534 Antwerp-Cathedral - Citadelle - Politics. [December, great affair, when such things be.' It will lose all its romance; and the book-making tourist's occupation' will be gone' for ever! It's lucky I came before a consummation so devoutly to be wished.' The low countries are, of course, well adapted for rail-roads and canals. There is scarcely an elevation of six feet on the whole course from Brussels to Anvers.* This rail-road is under excellent regulations. The train consisted of fifteen cars, part of which were open; and the fare was only about twenty-five cents. You may breakfast in Brussels, go to Antwerp to church, and return to Brussels before dinner, with the greatest ease. I had seen the opening ceremonies of a Catholic holy-day, at the church of St. Michael, in the capital, and now I have been to see them finished in the cathedral of Antwerp. I went into this grand temple just at sunset, when they were performing Te Deum on the immense organ, accompanied by a large vocal choir; and nearly thirty persons in gorgeous robes were officiating around the altar. This is one of the largest churches in the world. The spire is far-famed for its immense height and graceful design. Among the gems of art to be seen in the interior, is the celebrated chef d'œuvre of Rubens, the Descent from the Cross. I walked out this evening to the citadelle which sustained, under Gen. CHASSE, the terrible siege of the French, in 1832. It is a mile in circumference, and is enclosed by five bastions. The walls and the houses in the vicinity yet bear sad traces of the bombardment. During the seige, which lasted a month, including ten days of incessant cannonading, sixty-three thousand cannon balls were fired by the French into the citadel, and often no less than a dozen bombs were seen in the air at once. The interior of the fortress, and several warehouses near by, were reduced to a heap of ruins, before the resolute Dutch general surrendered. Such an affair is more in keeping with the days of Louis XIV., than with our own. The diplomatists have not yet settled matters amicably between Holland and Belgium. King William and several of the despotic powers refuse to recognise Belgium's independence, and there is little or no intercourse between the two countries. Travellers are not permitted to enter Holland from this side, without special permission from his Dutch majesty, for a Belgian passport is good for nothing. Leopold, le premier, may thank his stars if he continues secure on the throne he acquired so easily; for there is apparently much discontent among the people, especially the trading classes, who feel the loss of the market for their goods at the Dutch sea-ports. The Antwerpers, at least, are decidedly inclined towards Holland. The French and German names of several places are puzzling- as for instance: Aix la Chapelle, Aachen; Liege, Lutchen; Mayence, Mentz; Ghent, Gand; Munich, Munchen; Antwerp, Anvers. The coins, too, of the various states, are a great annoyance. None but French and English gold, and five-franc pieces, are universally current. The Swiss batzen will not pass in Germany, nor the Prussian kreutzers, groschen, florins or thalers, in Belgium. Each state, dutchy, and canton, has a different currency. See KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE for February, 1833, for a full account of this memorable siege, and a spirited portrait of its brave hero, one of the race of those from whom sprang the genuine KNICKERBOCKERS. 1837.] Rubens Church Tower — Chimes. 535 Antwerp, which in the sixteenth century was one of the most important commercial places in the world, has long been on the decline. It once contained more than two hundred thousand inhabitants - now, scarcely sixty thousand; and it is said there are no less than eight hundred houses at present tenantless. Its docks, once crowded with vessels, laden with the wealth of the Indies, are now almost deserted; and the streets are strangely quiet, for a place even of its present size. The chief curiosities are the churches, for which Antwerp is renowned. But I have already inflicted enough of this topic upon you, and the Antwerp churches are much like those I have written about, save that they are yet more rich and profuse in their decorations. Those of St. Jacques, St. Paul, and the Jesuits, are the principal. Superb altars, and pillars of the finest marble, statues and paintings, in every variety, are to be seen in them. In St. Jacques, I stood on the tomb of Rubens, who was a native of Antwerp, and of a patrician family. Over his monument is a fine picture, by himself, of his wife and children. In the church-yard of St. Pauls is a fearfully vivid representation of Mount Calvary, the crucifixion and entombment of Christ, and of purgatory! While gazing at the lofty tower of the Cathedral, I was accosted by a cicerone: Voulez vous mounter?' Combien demandez vous? Deux francs.' Trop beaucoup?' 'Oui, Monsieur; mais tres belle vue; magnifique; vous pouver voir Bruxelles. Eh bien, je veux mounter.' This is the way they get one's francs away; for, as the book says, the Belgian lions must be fed as well as others. The view is certainly very extensive, though Brussels, I must say, was rather indistinct. But the Tower of Malines, or Mechlin, (that famous place for lace,) was very conspicuous, though twelve miles off. The prospects over such a country as Belgium are more extensive than varied. Antwerp is situated near the mouth of the Scheld, and the windings of the river may be seen for several miles toward Ghent and the sea-board. The tops of the houses in the city are mostly covered with red tiles. In the tower, I saw a chime of no less than forty-six bells, and was shown the operation of winding the clock, with a weight of one thousand pounds attached. The large bell, meanwhile, struck eleven, and all the rest followed like dutiful children. Somewhat of a sound they made, sure enough! Chimes originated in this country, and all the churches have them, playing at concert every half hour. This tower is ascended by six hundred and twenty-six steps. I went to the very top, thinking of some one's exclamation at the cathedral of Cologne, 'What will not man achieve!' From thence, made a call at Ruben's house, which still remains, and then looked in at the Museum, where are three hundred 'tableaux,' comprising eighteen pictures by Rubens, and six by Van Dyck. In the garden adjoining, is a bronze statue of Mary of Burgundy, on her tomb. GHENT, (or GAND,) Sept 19. His majesty of Holland not seeing fit to admit me into his dominions, from his late rebellious territory of Belgium, the alternative was to cross over Flanders, by Ghent and Bruges, to Ostend, and there embark, instead of at Rotterdam, for London. A ferry-boat took passengers over the Scheld to the Tête de Flandre,' where the diligence was in waiting. We 'niggled' over a flat, fertile country, at the five-mile pace, seeing nothing very strange until nine P. M., when we passed through a long village of one-story houses, rattled over an excellent stone-bridge, and found ourselves in the worthy old town of Ghent, or rather Gand; but if the people are ganders, they have shown some wisdom, nevertheless, in making so many nice, large, opens quares, in their respectable city. OSTEND, 20th. This morning was to be my last on the continent. I rose at six from my last coucher, in the fifth story, took my last breakfast in the salle à manger, made my last visit to cathedrals, paid my bill at the Hotel de Vienne, and took my diligence seat for the last time. The last trunk was placed on the top, the last passenger took his place, the three lazy horses were affixed, the postillion mounted, the diligence rumbled forward, crossed two or three spacious squares, and as many bridges, (for the river or canals pass in several places through the town,) entered the great archway under the ramparts, and proceeded with slow and stately step toward Bruges. The whole of the road is broad, well paved, lined with rows of elms and poplars, aud for several miles keeps along the banks of the broad canal connecting Ghent with Bruges; and so level is the soil, that the towers of Ghent were in full view for six miles. Bruges, or Brugge, is a beautiful town, replete with reminiscences of the Counts of Flanders; yet it is far from being what it once was, in wealth and importance. Like Antwerp, there is an unnatural stillness in the streets; you would almost think an epidemic had depopulated them. And yet there are many handsome private dwellings, and many wealthy people in Bruges. It has also a consderable number of English residents. Ostend is dull enough. The harbor is bad, not admitting large vessels, except at high tide; otherwise, this place would improve rapidly; for, save Antwerp and Dunkirk, it is the only sea-port of Belgium. When the rail-road to Brussels is finished, Ostend will begin to look up. The Belgians have always been a manufacturing rather than a commercial people; but now they are cut off from exporting their goods from the ports of Holland, they must necessarily build up a commerce of their own. They are now engaged in improving the harbor, etc, of Ostend. As an evidence of the discontent caused by the depression of trade since the revolution, it is said Leopold was grossly insulted by the people of Ghent, about a year since. He was on a visit there, and was going to the theatre; but the Ganders hired all the best boxes, and locked them up! The Ostenders, however, are more loyal. The king and queen were greeted at the theatre here, a few evenings since, with a poetical address. The queen is here now; but her consort has gone to England to negotiate, as the papers say, for the Princess Victoria, in behalf of his nephew. Whether he or his be loved cousin of Orange will succeed, yet remains a problem. 1837.] Retrospective. 537 Well - Bologne was the Alpha, and now, after travelling two thousand miles, the Omega of my continental tour. To imitate the lofty style of Chateaubriand's preface to his memoirs : I have been solitary in crowded cities, and in the recesses of the Highlands of Scotland, and the Alps of Switzerland; I have promenaded the Regentstreet of London, and the Boulevards of Paris; the parks of Brussels, the Canongate of Edinburgh, the ramparts of Stirling and Geneva; sailed on Loch Katrine and Lake Leman, on Loch Lomond and 'fair Zurich's waters ;' slept on the Great St. Bernard, and by the side of Lock Achray. I have gazed on magnificent panoramas of cities, mountains, lakes, valleys, from the summits of the Trosachs and the Rhigi, from St. Paul's and Notre Dame, from the towers of Antwerp, and Edinburgh, of Stirling and Windsor. I have sailed on the Tay and the Rhine, the Clyde, the Thames, the Rhone, the Seine ; scaled rocky heights on the Swiss mule and the Highland pony; climbed to the sources of glaciers, water-falls, and the Frozen Sea. I have been in the princely halls of Windsor and Versailles, of Warwick, Scone, and Holyrood; the Louvre, Tuilleries, and Luxembourg; rambled amidst the ruins of Melrose and Kenilworth; of Dryburgh and the Drachenfels. I have heard the loud anthem' in the splendid temples of York and Antwerp, Westminster and Notre Dame, St. Paul's and Cologne. I have stood over the ashes of Shakspeare and of Scott; of the poets and heroes of England and France. I have gazed on the works of Raphael and Angelo, of Reynolds and Rubens, of Flaxman and Canova. My hand has been in Rob Roy's purse, and on the skull of Charlemagne; on Bonaparte's pistols, and Hofer's blunderbuss; on the needle-work of the Queen of Scots, and the school compositions of the great Elizabeth; on the crown of the Spanish Isabella, and the spear of Guy, Earl of Warwick! I have traversed the battle fields of Bannockburn and of Morat, of Leipsic and of Waterloo. I have seen men and women of all grades, from the monarch to the chimney-sweep; kings, queens, princes, heirs apparent, nobles and duchesses; and I have seen Daniel O'Connell! I have been preached to by the plain presbyters of Scotland, and the portly bishops of England; and heard mass in the convent in sight of Italy, and in the gorgeous cathedrals of Belgium. I have seen wretchedness and magnificence in the widest extremes. I have been dazzled by the splendors of royalty, and have shuddered at the misery of royalty's subjects. In short, (for I am giving you a pretty specimen of egotism,) I have seen much, very much, to admire; much that we of the New World' might imitate with advantage, and more still to make me better satisfied than ever that we are, on the whole, or ought to be, the happiest people in the world. Let us but pay a little more attention to our manners, (for they certainly may be much improved,) and let us check the spirit of lawless and fanatical agrarianism, which has shown itself to be already dangerous to our liberties and prosperity, and we may with conscious pride take our station first among the nations of the earth. Yes, my dear I now feel more than ever, that 'Midst pleasures and palaces though I may roam, LITERARY NOTICES. ERNEST MALTRAVERS. By the author of 'Pelham,' ' Eugene Aram,' 'Rienzi,' etc. In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 411. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS. THIS novel is but half finished. At the conclusion of the second volume, Mr. Bulwer remarks: 'Here ends the first portion of this work; it ends with what, though rare in novels, is common in human life; the affliction of the good, the triumph of the unprincipled. Ernest Maltravers, a lonely wanderer, disgusted with the world, blighted prematurely in a useful and glorious ambition; remote, unfriendly, melancholy;' Lumley Ferrers, prosperous and elated; life smiling before him; rising in the councils of the proudest and perhaps the wisest of the European nations, and wrapped in a hardy stoicism of levity and selfishness, that not only defied grief, but silenced conscience. If the reader be interested in what remains- if he desire to know more of the various characters which have breathed and moved throughout this history he soon will be enabled to gratify his curiosity, and complete what the author believes to be a faithful survey of the Philosophy of Human Life.' Such is the author's apology for one of the most dangerous and seductive books which it has ever been our fortune to read. Let us examine its plan. Alice Darvil, a beautiful child of nature, wholly uneducated and perfectly innocent, saves the life of Ernest Maltravers, an English graduate of a German university, who had sought shelter at her father's cottage. The murderous and revengeful barbarity of the father compels the daughter to desert him, and she is immediately thrown in the way of the student. Impelled by gratitude and pity, Maltravers shelters the destitute beauty, takes her to a country-seat, which he purchases on purpose, teaches her music, elevates her benighted and earthward mind to heaven, falls in love with, and seduces her! The father of Alice goes on from crime to crime, till his burglaries extend to the cottage of Maltravers' mistress, and his own child, who, in the temporary absence of her lover, is carried away beyond his protection. Maltravers returns, misses his Alice, grows melancholy, visits Paris in company with an impertinent and selfish acquaintance, Lumley Ferrers, falls in love with another man's wife, is rejected by her, quits Paris in disgust, goes to Italy, forms an affectionate, platonic attachment for another married lady, and then returns to London. In the meanwhile, Alice flies from her father a second time, with Maltravers' child at her breast. She seeks the cottage-scene of her early and unsophisticated enjoyments, finds it occupied by other tenants, and is finally thrown on the fostering protection of a saint-like banker, who makes her Mrs. Templeton. While the foregoing events are taking place, Maltravers falls in love again, and as he is on his knees, kissing the hand of his mistress, Alice, who happens to be in the next room, enters, is heart broken, goes away and gets married, as aforesaid. Among other important characters now introduced, is the Lady Florence Lascelles, a great beauty, and a greater fortune, who scorns all the fascinations of rank, and falls so in love with Maltravers, that she writes to him ardently and anonymously. But as other beauties sometimes are, this one, though her whole soul is filled with |