After Waterloo: Reminiscences of European Travel 1815-1819. William Edward Frye
quartered in her house told me in speaking of them: "Monsieur, ce sont de si bonnes gens; ils sont doux comme des agneaux." "Ils n'en seront pas moins des lions an jour du combat," was my reply.
I have amused myself with visiting most of the remarkable objects here, but you must not expect from me a detail of what you will find in every description book. You wish to have my ideas on the subjects that most strike me individually, and those you shall have; but it would be very absurd and presumptuous in me to attempt to give a catalogue raisonné of buildings and pictures and statues, or to set up as a connoisseur when I know nothing either of sculpture, of architecture or painting; nor am I desirous of imitating the young Englishman, who, in writing to his father from Italy, described so much in detail, and so scientifically, every production, or staple, peculiar to the cities which he happened to visit, that he wrote like a cheese-monger from Parma, like a silk mercer from Leghorn, like an olive and oil merchant from Lucca, like a picture dealer from Florence, and like an antiquarian from Rome.
BRUXELLES, May 10.
The Hôtel d'Angleterre where we are lodged is within four minutes walk from the finest part of the city, where the Parc and Royal Palace is situated. The Parc is not large, but is tastefully laid out in the Dutch style, and is the fashionable promenade for the beau monde of Bruxelles. The women, without being strikingly handsome, have much grace; their air, manner and dress are perfectly à la francaise. A good café and restaurant is in the centre of one of the sides, and the buildings on the quadrangle environing the Parc, which form the palace and other tenements are superb. The next place I went to see was the Hôtel de Ville and its tower of immense height. It is a fine Gothic building, but that which should be the central entrance is not directly in the centre of the edifice, so that one wing of it appears considerably larger than the other, which gives it an awkward and irregular appearance. On the Place or Square as we should call it, where the Hôtel de Ville stands, is held the fruit and vegetable market, and a finer one or more plentifully supplied I never beheld. This Place is interesting to the historian as being the spot where Counts Egmont and Hoorn suffered decapitation in the reign of Philip II of Spain, by order of the Duke of Alva, who witnessed the execution from a window of one of the houses. The conduct of these noblemen at the place of execution was so dignified that even the ferocious duke could not avoid wiping his eyes, hardened as his heart was by religious and political fanaticism; and though he held them in abhorrence as rebels and traitors a tear did fall for them down his iron cheek. How fortunate for the liberties of Holland that William the Taciturn did not also fall into the claws of that Moloch Philip! I next visited the museum and picture gallery, where I witnessed the annual exposition of the modern school of painting. The specimens I saw pleased me much, particularly because the subjects were well chosen from history and the mythology, which to me is far more agreeable than the subjects of the paintings of the old Flemish school; but I am told often that I know nothing about painting, so I shall make no further remarks but content myself with sending you a catalogue, with the pictures marked therein which made most impression on me. With respect to the churches of Brussels those of Ste. Gudule and of the Capuchins are the finest and most remarkable. In the former is the Temptation of Adam by the Serpent, richly carved in wood in figures as large as life grouped round the pulpit.[4]
The Place du Sablon is very striking from the space it occupies, and on it is a fountain erected by Lord Bruce.[5] The fountains which are to be met with in various parts of the city are highly ornamental, and among them I must not omit to mention a singularly grotesque one which is held in great veneration by the lower orders of the Bruxellois and is by them regarded as a sort of Palladium to the city. It is the figure of a little boy who is at peace, according to the late Lord Melville's[6] pronunciation of the words, and who spouts out his water incessantly, reckless of decorum and putting modesty to the blush. What would our vice-hunters say to this? He is a Sabbath breaker in the bargain and continues his occupation on Sundays as well as other days and in fine he rejoices in the name of Mannekenpis.
The ramparts, or rather site of the ramparts (for the fortifications of Bruxelles no longer exist), form an agreeable promenade; but the favourite resort of all the world at Bruxelles in the afternoon is the Attee verte. Here all classes meet; here the rich display their equipages and horses; and the lower orders assemble at the innumerable guinguettes which are to be met with here, in order to play at bowls, dominoes, smoke and drink beer, of which there is an excellent sort called Bitterman. The avenues on each side of the carriage road are occupied by pedestrians, and on one side of the road is the canal, covered at all times with barges and boats decked with flags and streamers. At the cabarets are benches and tables in the open air under the trees; and here are to be seen the artisan, the bargeman and the peasant taking their afternoon délassement, and groups of men, women and children drinking beer and smoking. These groups reminded me much of those one sees so often in the old Flemish pictures, with this difference, that the old costume of the people is almost entirely left off. Female minstrels with guitars stroll about singing French romances and collecting contributions from this cheerful, laughter-loving people. The dark walk, as it is called, near the park is a favourite walk of the upper classes in the evening. There his Grace of Wellington is sometimes to be seen with a fair lady under his arm. He generally dresses in plain clothes, to the astonishment of all the foreign officers. He is said to be as successful in the fields of Idalia as in those of Bellona, and the ladies whom he honours with his attentions suffer not a little in their reputations in the opinion of the compères and commères of Bruxelles.
I have only been twice to the theatre since I have been here. The Salle de Spectacle is indifferent, but they have an excellent company of comedians. The representations are in French. I saw the Festin de Pierre of Corneille exceedingly well performed. The actors who did the parts of Don Juan and Sganarelle were excellent, and the scene with M. Dimanche, wherein he demands payment of his bill, was admirably given. I have also seen the Plaideurs of Racine, a very favourite piece of mine; every actor played his part most correctly, and the scene between the Comtesse de Pimbeche and Chicaneau and L'Intimé wherein the latter, disguised as a Bailli, offers himself to be kicked by the former, was given in very superior style. The scene of the trial of the dog, with the orations of Petit Jean as demandeur and L'Intimé as défenseur, were played with good effect. I never recollect having witnessed a theatrical piece which afforded me greater amusement.
NAMUR, May 12.
We left Brussels yesterday afternoon, and having obtained passports to visit the military posts we went to Genappe, a small village half-way between Bruxelles and Namur, where we brought to for the night at a small but comfortable inn called Le Roi d'Espagne. Two battalions of the regiment Nassau-Usingen are quartered in Genappe. We arrived at Namur this morning at nine o'clock and put up at the Hôtel d'Arenberg. On the road we stopped at a peasant's house to drink coffee; and we were entertained by our hostess with complaints against the Prussians, who commit, as she said, all sorts of exactions on the peasantry on whom they are quartered. Not content with exacting three meals a day, when they were only entitled to two, and for which they are bound to give their rations, they sell these, and appropriate the money to their own use; then the demand for brandy and schnapps is increasing. But what can be expected from an army whose leader encourages them in all their excesses? Blucher by all accounts is a vandal and is actuated by a most vindictive spirit. The Prussians reproach the Belgians with being in the French interest; how can they expect it to be otherwise? They have prospered under French domination, and certainly the conduct of the Prussians is not calculated to inspire them with any love towards themselves nor veneration for the Sovereign who has such all-devouring allies. I asked this woman why she did not complain to the officers. She answered! "Hélas, Monsieur, c'est inutile; on donne toujours la même réponse: 'Nichts verstehn,'" for it appears when these complaints are made the Prussian officers pretend not to understand French.
Namur is now the head-quarters of Marshal Blucher, who is in the enjoyment of divers noms de guerre, such as "Marshall Vorwärts," "Der alte Teufel." On the high road, about two miles and a half before we reached Namur, we met with a party of Prussian lancers, who were returning from a foraging excursion. They were singing some warlike song or hymn, which was singularly impressive. It brought to my recollection the description