not go
over the old ground again. We revisited some of the more prominent
places of interest, and went to a few others that were neglected on
former occasions. Among the rest we took a look at the public
picture-gallery, which greatly disappointed us. The Flemish school
naturally awakened our expectations, but a fine Gerard Douw and a few
other old paintings were all that struck us, and as a whole, we gave a
preference to the paintings of the present day.

The King appears to be personally popular, even those who have no faith
in the duration of the present order of things, and who politically are
his opponents, speaking well of him. The town has but few strangers,
though the presence of a court renders it a little more gay than it was
last year. The aspect of everything is gloomy, for the country may be
again engaged in a war of existence, in a week. Many still think the
affair will end in a partition; France, Prussia, and Holland getting the
principal shares. I make no doubt that everybody will profit more by the
change than they who brought it about.

LETTER IX.

Malines.--Its Collection of Pictures.--Antwerp.--The Cathedral.--A
Flemish Quack.--Flemish Names.--The Picture Gallery at Antwerp.--Mr.
Wapper's Carvings in Wood.--Mr. Van Lankeren's Pictures.--The Boulevards
at Brussels.--Royal Abodes.--Palace of the Prince of Orange.--Prince
Auguste d'Ahremberg's Gallery of Pictures.--English Ridicule of America.

Dear ----,

After a consultation with Francois, I sent the carriage to get a set of
entirely new wheels, Brussels being a coach-making town, and taking a
_voiture de remise_, we drove down to Antwerp. While the horses rested,
we looked at the pictures in Malines. The "Miraculous Draught of Fishes"
is thought by many to be the chef-d'oeuvre of Rubens, but, after
conceding it a hardy conception and magnificent colouring, I think one
finds too much of the coarse mannerism of the artist, even for such a
subject. The most curious part of the study of the different schools is
to observe how much all have been influenced by external objects, and
how completely conventional, after all, the _beau ideal_ of an artist
necessarily becomes. It would be impossible, for one who knew the
several countries, to mistake the works of Murillo, Rubens, or Raphael,
for the works of artists of different schools, and this without
reference to their peculiar manners, but simply as Flemings, Spaniards,
and Italians. Rubens, how