The entrance hall is a very large and low vestibule, paved with dove-coloured marble, communicating with two staircases, which lead to the chambers of the commons and the senate. In conformity with the anti-aristocratic spirit of the constitution, which declares the equality of all orders, the chamber of the upper house has nothing in its furniture to distinguish it from the lower, except, indeed, that the latter is by far the larger and more handsome apartment of the two. That of the senate is a moderate sized square room, with a green table surrounded by chairs. That of the commons is a semi-circle, lighted from above, surrounded by columns which support the roof, and fitted up with benches covered with green morocco, with conveniences for paper and writing materials before each member, and in front of these is the chair of the President, and the tribune to which each orator advances in succession to address the house. It is in the latter chamber that the King opens and closes, in person, the sittings of the Assembly, at the commencement and end of each session.
Instead of the anomalous hours and seasons of the British Parliament, those of the Belgian Assemblies are in winter, and at mid-day, and its discussions open to the public, with a power invested in any ten members, to demand a vote of the Chamber for the exclusion of strangers during any particular debate. The secretaries at the table, are members of the House, and take share in its proceedings. The number of representatives is regulated by the amount of population, in the proportion of one member for every 40,000 inhabitants; and that of the senate is one half the number of the other House. The latter are chosen for eight years, and the former for four, and the elections take place for the senate every fourth year, when one half retire, and for the commons, every second. The qualification of a senator, is the payment of 1,000 florins a-year of direct taxes, whilst that of a representative is only two hundred, or about £10. The members of the lower House receive each 200 florins a-month, during the sitting of the house; a distinction is conferred on the members of the upper of having neither pay nor perquisites. The ministers have seats in both assemblies, and a right to be heard in their discussions, should they require to speak, but no power to vote in the divisions; either chamber may, also, require their presence and explanations if essential to its deliberations.
The elective franchise, I forgot to state, varies in amount in the different provinces, but in all it requires the elector to be twenty-five years of age, and by birth or naturalization, a Belgian. A distinction is also made between the electors of the towns and the peasants of the same province who vote for the same member. Thus, for the province of Antwerp, the elector for the city must pay, as his qualification, eighty florins of direct taxes, annually, whilst the peasant is only required to pay thirty. In Brussels and Ghent, the sum is the same as in Antwerp; in Liege, it is seventy florins; in Bruges, sixty; in Courtrai, fifty; and in Ostend, forty, down to thirty-five for some of the smaller city constituencies. The scale seems to be regulated, throughout, in proportion to the agricultural or commercial reputation of the electoral district; Luxembourg and Namur, for instance, are the lowest in the list, and their peasantry pay but twenty florins, or something less than twenty shillings a-year; whilst in Limbourg, the qualification is twenty-five, and thirty in each of the other six provinces of the kingdom.
The lower chamber was, till lately, decorated with two paintings of the battles of Nieuport and Waterloo. In the latter, the principal figure was that of the Prince of Orange, at the moment of his receiving his wound in the action. This unhappy painting seems to have been a source of some embarrassment—to keep such a conspicuous memento of the expelled dynasty, and that, too, recording its strongest claim upon the gratitude of the nation; and, above all, to leave it suspended in the very midst of the revolutionary leaders, must have been peculiarly awkward. But then, this objection did not extend to the battle of Nieuport—one of the most decisive victories of the patriots over the Spaniards in the war of liberation, and to take down the one without the other would have looked peevish. The difficulty seems, however, to have been surmounted, for we found them both gone; and that of Waterloo, we saw in a back apartment, awaiting, perhaps, its removal to some still more secluded depository.
The Park, which forms the centre of the square, which is flanked by these public buildings, is the favourite promenade of the Bruxellois—the Tuilleries’ garden of their little Paris, and, in fact, it is a garden, its dimensions being too small to merit its more dignified title. Without being either Dutch or cockney, it contains as many varieties of ornament as could well be disposed of in so small a space—broad green slopes, tall trees and shaded walks, with fountains, busts and statues in abundance. Within the gardens, there is a miniature theatre and a café, and a ball-room, called La Salle du Wauxhall, and in summer, a military band plays during the evening promenade. This little “pleasance” was, in 1830, the focus of the revolutionary riot, where the Dutch troops, under the command of Prince Frederick, made their unfortunate entry into the city, and after an interval of carnage and incendiarism, retired, without a demonstration of their strength, or a vigorous effort to crush the revolt. The houses and trees still bear traces of these sanguinary “three days,” the latter having their wounds still bound up with plates of lead and iron nailed over the spots which were torn by the balls.
The scene which this now peaceful spot presented on the morning after the departure of the Dutch troops, is thus described by an eye witness. “In the park, the statues, trees, gates, and ornaments were shattered or defaced; the walks, alleys, and hollows were strewed with fragments of fire-arms, gun-carriages, weapons, and military equipments. Here the mangled bodies of dead horses obstructed the path; there lay a still palpitating, half-stripped corpse, and beside them a dozen others, barely covered with a few hands-full of earth or leaves. Ensanguined and discoloured streaks marked the trace where some wounded victim had dragged himself from the scene of combat; and deep indentures in the sand, with dark coagulated pools, covered by myriads of insects, indicated the spots where other gallant men had made their last death struggle.”[1]
In the very midst of this scene of commotion and carnage, the Hôtel de Bellevue, the favourite resort of the English, was occupied, at the moment, by a party of our fellow countrymen, and a few females of distinction. In a pamphlet which I picked up at Brussels, published at the period, I found the following graphic detail of the siege which they sustained—a chapter of real romance, such as occurs in the lives of but few of the generations of tourists who annually swarm in Brussels. It professes to be written by an English officer, who was one of the party.
“When the King’s troops commenced the attack on Brussels, on the morning of the 23d., the English in the Hôtel de Bellevue consisted of Lady Charles Bentinck, niece to the Duke of Wellington, and two daughters, the eldest about thirteen, Mr. and Mrs. George Harley Drummond, Mrs. and Miss Wolseley, (an interesting girl), Captains Dent and Sibbourn, and their respective servants. The cannonading had scarcely begun near the Schærbeck gate, when Captains Dent and Sibbourn hurried to the boulevards, behind the palace of the Prince of Orange, to observe, if possible, the advance of the troops, and to see a nine-pounder belonging to the bourgeois pointed and served. In a few minutes, however, they heard the grape-shot rattling in the trees over their heads, which induced them to return to the hotel, when, just as they were turning the corner of the house, a shell burst within a few yards of them. This sufficed to show, that on the part of the troops, the most hostile dispositions had been determined on. Shells and grape-shot were thrown in abundance from the rising ground outside the gate of Schærbeck, along the Rue Royale, towards the Place Royale. From the hotel, we had a good view of the advance of the troops, who were received by a brisk fire from the bourgeois, who occupied houses on each side of the street, and who made great havoc amongst the military; but the latter, by dint of superior numbers, were not long in reaching the park, which the bourgeois had, most unfortunately for themselves, and most unaccountably, neglected to occupy. They rushed through the park, and took possession of the King’s palace, which was also unoccupied. Rapid, however, as was this success, they were never able, during the four day’s fighting, to proceed in this direction, and all their attempts to gain the Place Royale proved fruitless, notwithstanding the very brisk fire they incessantly kept up against the burghers. It is a curious fact, that not more than about two hundred of the latter were upon the Place Royale, when repeated attacks were made upon it by the military, but they had three or four nine-pounders remarkably well served.
With a view to take possession of these guns, a party of not more than forty lancers, advanced along that part of the Hôtel de Bellevue facing the park; but they had scarcely reached the corner, and got into the fire, when they faced about, and hastily retreated as far as the King’s palace. A sharp fire of both cannon and small arms now commenced, which continued without interruption until the final retreat of the troops. The situation of the English ladies in the Hôtel de Bellevue became very critical at this moment. We had all removed to a room on the second floor, facing the Place Royale, but some of the burghers having entered the house, commenced firing from the roof, which naturally drew upon the building the fire from the troops.
The rapid succession of shots from and against the hotel, and the constant fire of artillery close to its gates, with the shouting of the people, were enough to intimidate the stoutest female heart. We found it absolutely necessary to take the ladies to a lower part of the house more under cover, though in descending the great staircase, they became exposed to a sharp fire of musketry. However, we succeeded in getting them safe down. The place of refuge was the cook’s garde-manger, a sort of cellar, on a line with, but a few steps lower than the kitchen. Being vaulted and under ground, we remained there in comparative safety until the afternoon of Saturday the 25th. The ladies gradually became accustomed to the noise of the fire over their heads, and as two of them were naturally of a very lively turn of mind, the cellar presented occasionally a scene of hilarity, fun, and good humour, which strongly contrasted with the more frequent one of alarm, fear, and despondency. It must not be supposed that the ladies were confined prisoners during the whole time in the cellar; curiosity prevailed, even at the risk of life, and there was many a creep up stairs to gain a peep at the scene without. At the same time, it would be unjust to attribute this motive to one lady, Mrs. Drummond, whose kind heart and genuine philanthrophy induced her to visit the wounded whom they were constantly bringing into the hall, and to render every assistance in her power to those brave fellows who though in agony, silently but significantly expressed their gratitude.