Brussels.

Dear Charley:—

The fine weather, and the advantage of having pleasant company, has induced us to leave Paris and pursue our journey, leaving many things to see in the great metropolis when we return. I forgot to tell you that in Paris I had the pleasure to meet an English clergyman, a relative of mine, who was there passing the honey-moon. This gentleman and his lady joined our party; and we are now to go together as far as Antwerp, certainly. We took the rail from Paris direct to Brussels,—a distance of two hundred and thirty miles,—and passed through Amiens, Arras, Douai, Valenciennes, Quievrain, St. Jemappes,—here King Louis Philippe, with General Dumourier, in 1792, gained a battle over an Austrian army, and so gained Belgium to France, little thinking that his son-in-law would be its king,—Mons, Bruin le Compte, Halle, and so to Brussels. At Quievrain we found the custom-house of Belgium, and the little river, called Aunelle, is the boundary of the republic. Mons is a fine-looking place, fortified strongly. The region is one entire coal field, and there are many pits in operation. Ten miles from Mons Marlborough fought the battle of Malplaquet, in 1709. When we passed, the town was in great commotion with the trial of Count BocarmÉ and his wife for the murder of her brother. She was by some means acquitted, but he was convicted and executed by the guillotine.

As soon as we entered Belgium, we were struck with the improvement of the lands. The small towns look remarkably thrifty, and every place seems to speak of manufactures and industry.

At Brussels, we put up at the Hotel Bellevue, in the Place Royale. The situation is good. In a large square, and in front of our hotel, is the magnificent statue, in bronze, of Godfrey, Duke of Boulogne, the cast of which we so admired as the Crusader, in the exhibition. In this square Leopold was inaugurated King of Belgium.

Every traveller enters Brussels with expectation of pleasure. He has heard that it is Paris in miniature; and then Byron has thrown around it his witchery of song. I can see but a dull and dim resemblance to Paris. Brussels, with its suburbs, which are quite large, has only a population of one hundred and thirty thousand. The town is very clean, looks cosy, and has some very beautiful edifices. But you come here full of fancy about "Belgium's capital," "her beauty and her chivalry," and the "windowed niche of that high hall," and you see at first only a plain, good, comfortable town. However, there is quite enough of romance, after all, in this same place; and when you traverse it thoroughly, you find enough to call out deep interest; and before you leave it you are much gratified, and, in all probability, feel desirous to see it again. I like to be in places that have a history; and this Brussels has. Let me tell you about this place. It stands on the brow of a high bill, and the upper and lower towns are different affairs entirely. The summit is covered with palaces, public buildings, boulevards, parks, &c., and the lower part is in the valley of the River Senne. Brussels was a city in 709. In 976, the Emperor Otho held his court there; in 1044, it was fortified and had seven gates; in 1405, a fire destroyed fourteen hundred houses; and in 1549, it suffered from two earthquakes. But still it grew and flourished under the dukes of Burgundy, and became famous for tapestry, lace, and fire-arms. In the days of Charles V., the city of Brussels was at its zenith. Philip II., his son, and his infamous general, the Duke of Alva, ravaged this city and vicinage. The people were fanatical, and the rulers cruel. In 1695, the city was besieged, and four thousand houses destroyed by the bombardment. In 1794, Belgium was annexed to France. After the battle of Waterloo, the Prince of Orange was proclaimed sovereign of Belgium. In 1830, the revolution displaced the Orange dynasty, and Belgium broke off from Holland; and in 1831, the people chose Leopold for their king. The first thing I wanted to see was the Hotel de Villa, which, many years ago, pleased me exceedingly; and I think all our party have been delighted with it. This is the noblest civil building in Belgium; it stands in a fine square, and is a glorious specimen of the Lombardy Gothic school. The spire is of open fretwork, and the sun shines through it. It has long been esteemed as one of the most precious works of architecture in Europe. The extreme height is three hundred and sixty-four feet, and it was erected in 1444. On the spire is a gilt statue of St. Michael, seventeen feet high, which turns with the wind. In front of this town hall Counts Egmont and Horn were executed, under the eye of Alva; but they were nobly avenged by William of Orange. At the head of a very steep and narrow street stands a most imposing structure. It is the Cathedral Church of St. Gudule. The foundation was laid in 1010. The front view is very much like that of Notre Dame, at Paris. This church is occasionally called St. Michael's in old writers, as it had a double consecration to the archangel and Gudule. The interior of this cathedral is very impressive, although the architecture is simple. The pillars supporting the roof are massive, and must receive the admiration of all spectators. There are brackets attached to them, on which stand finely-executed figures of the Savior, the Virgin Mary, and the Apostles, executed by the following renowned sculptors: Vandelyn, Quellyn, Tobias, and Duquesnoy. The pulpit is regarded as the finest in Europe, and is the most elaborate composition of sculpture in wood that is extant. It is the work of the great Verbruggen, and was originally executed for a Jesuit society at Louvain, in 1699. The art is exquisite, and far superior to the taste which is exhibited. The pulpit represents the expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise by the angel. Death is seen in pursuit of the guilty fugitives; and on the extreme summit is the Virgin Mary, bruising the serpent's head with a cross. On the steps and balusters are various beasts and birds; the owl, ape, and peacock are conspicuous. We found preparations for a great church holiday, to be observed the next day; and the Virgin Mary was gayly decked out in embroidery, lace, and jewelry.

A monument to Count Merode, in a chapel, is a most exquisite production, and was executed by Geefs. Here Charles V., in 1616, held a chapter of the Golden Fleece. The restoration of this beautiful church has been carefully attended to lately, and the new windows of painted glass are very fine; but some of the old windows, by Weyde, are grand indeed.

In this church the famous sacramental wafers are placed away as relics of inestimable value. Perhaps you recollect the story of the Jews who purloined them, and profanely stuck the consecrated bread with knives; when, lo, a miracle! blood came from the incision, and the unbelievers were smitten down. Of course, they were taken, and tormented, and burnt. This was at the close of the fourteenth century. The great celebration of this Popish imposition of a miracle is kept up in July every year.

All one side of this noble building is a set of mean, low, one and two-story shanties, which deface the appearance of the venerable pile.

While in the church, we saw vast numbers of boys and girls, who had come to make their confession and prepare for their first communion, to take place next day. We often saw in the streets of Paris and Brussels girls dressed in white, with wreaths of flowers, and boys, with dresses that looked as if they were bound to a wedding; these were young people going to communion. The poor children in this church looked as funny on the occasion, sitting and chatting, waiting for their turn to confess, as the priest looked tired and indifferent.

We spent much of our leisure time walking in the noble park and gardens. O, when shall we have in America such care taken of our few green spots, in our great cities, as is here displayed? No lady can be more chary of the order of her drawing-room than are the authorities at Brussels of these beautiful promenades. Then, too, here are avenues of trees that make you in love with the city as you enter it. I do wish all our towns would raise committees of public-spirited men, who should undertake, by voluntary contributions, or town action, to plant the roadsides that form the entrances to these places. I was delighted, some months ago, to hear that a few gentlemen at Haverhill, in Massachusetts, had banded together for this purpose. Charley, if you live to take an active share in the business of life, try and do something for the place you live in that shall appear after you have gone; make the spot of your residence better, because you have once lived in it. We are too selfish; we do not fulfil our duty to those who are to come after us; we do not, even in the matters of this present state, live up to the great law of our being—"No man liveth to himself."

Leopold's Palace is exceedingly plain and unpretending for a royal residence. It was originally composed of two wings, through which a street ran its course; but they are now united by a central building, with a handsome portico, having for its support six Corinthian pillars. The edifice is about three hundred and ninety feet in length; and, while the front is on the Park, the rear opens on an extensive garden. At the opposite side of the Park is the Chamber of Representatives. In the Park, and near to the Palace, is the prettiest glen and bit of miniature wood I know of.

We found our accomplished representative, the Hon. Mr. Bayard, kind and attentive. He lives in a charming part of the city; and his position must be a pleasant one, having good society in the place, and near to Paris.

Yours affectionately,

j.o.c.