Every step towards this comfortable city lies through a country too well
known to need description, and too beautiful to be ever described as it
deserves. _Les Vues de Flandres_ are bought by the English, admired by
the Italians, and even esteemed by the French, who like few things out
of their own nation; but these places once belonged to Louis Quatorze,
and the language has taken such root it will never more be eradicated.
Here are very fine pictures in many private hands; Mr. Danot’s collection
does not want me to celebrate its merits; and here is a lovely park,
and a pleasing coterie of English, and a very gay carnival as can be,
people running about the streets in crowds; but their theatre is a vile
one: after Italy, it will doubtless be difficult to find masques that can
amuse, or theatres that can strike one. But never did nation possess a
family more charming than that of _La Duchesse d’Arenberg_, who, graced
with every accomplishment of mind and person, devotes her time and
thoughts wholly to the amusement of her amiable consort, calling round
them all which has any power of alleviating his distressful condemnation
to perpetual darkness, from an accident upon a shooting party that cost
him his sight about six or seven years ago. Mean time her arm always
guides, her elegant conversation always soothes him; and either from
_gaieté de cœur_, philosophical resolution to bear what heaven ordains
without repining, or a kind desire of corresponding with the Duchess’s
intentions, he appears to lose no pleasure himself, nor power of pleasing
others, by his misfortune; but dances, plays at cards, chats with his
English friends, and listens delightedly (as who does not?) when charming
Countess Cleri sings to the harpsichord’s accompaniment, with all
Italian taste, and all German execution. By the Duke D’Aremberg we were
introduced to Prince Albert of Saxony, and the Princesse Gouvernante,
whose resemblance to her Imperial brother is very striking; her hand
however, so eminently beautiful, is to be kissed no more; the abolition
of that ceremony has taken place in all the Emperor’s family. The palace
belonging to these princes is so entirely in the English taste, with
pleasure grounds, shrubbery, lawn, and laid out water, that I thought
myself at home, not because of the polite attentions received, for those
I have found _abroad_, where no merits of mine could possibly have
deserved, nor no services have purchased them. Spontaneous kindness,
and friendship resulting merely from that innate worth that loves to
energize its own affections on an object which some circumstances had
casually rendered interesting, are the lasting comforts I have derived
from a journey which has shewn me much variety, and impressed me with an
esteem of many characters I have been both the happier and the wiser for
having known. Such were the friends I left with regret, when, crossing
the Tyrolese Alps, I sent my last kind wishes back to the dear state
of Venice in a sigh; such too were my emotions, when we took leave last
night at Lady Torrington’s; and resolving to quit Brussels to-morrow for
Antwerp, determined to exchange the brilliant conversation of a _Boyle_,
for the glowing pencil of a _Rubens_.