Towering above two of the main arteries in Brussels like some sort of crown centerpiece of Brussels, or perhaps a gateway into the EU Quarters, is the Cinquantenaire Arch, named for the park in which it sits. The Arch reminds people of either the Brandenburg Gate in Germany or the Arch du Triomphe in Paris, and though it's its own thing, it is just as monumental and demanding of attention from the average tourist. My favorite way to see the Arch and the Parc du Cinquantenaire in which it stands is from the Merode Metro station, because it feels like you are kind of entering the city in a real triumph.
The park itself is split up by the Arch and museum complex. On one side is the Square de la Bouteille (Square of the Bottle) with a grand fountain. It's part of the Etterbeek neighborhood, and here and the grand plaza is where a great number of festivals are held throughout the year. When there's no festival, it retains the feeling because people like to sprawl out here and sunbathe or sit around with a bottle of wine.
This is true on the other side of the Arch as well. On sunny afternoons, locals sprawl across the manicured lawns, their picnic blankets dotting the grass like colorful confetti. Kids kick soccer balls while couples strolled hand-in-hand beneath the towering chestnut trees. And you can tell who's a local Belgian on warm (not hot) days because they all huddle in the shade like vampires, unused as they are to the sun.
The sprawling, 30-hectare park was built in 1880 to commemorate—you might have guessed it—the 50th Anniversary of the Kingdom of Belgium, which declared its independence in 1830. The triumphal arch, though, wasn't completed until a few years later, not until 1905. The park was originally a “Field of Mars”, that is, a military parade and training ground, and as such, you’ll find the Military Academy on the north face of the park. In 2030, Belgium will mark its 200th anniversary. So, until then, they’ll be doing random renovations, pop-up sculptures and beergardens, and so on to give the park a fresh new flavor.
By the way, you can walk through all this yourself with me as your audio guide with the VoiceMap app on your phone! Check it out here.
The Arch
The crowning element, featuring a chariot driver at its summit, bears the name "Brabant Raising the National Flag," crafted by artists Jules Lagae and Thomas Vincotte. As Belgium's richest and most pivotal territory, Brabant has consistently maintained its grip on authority in this nation, serving as the historic duchy where Brussels resides. When the Belgian nation emerged in 1830, the selection of Brabant and Brussels as the kingdom's capital was an obvious decision.
Notice the big lady statues at the bases? If you look closely at the inscriptions, you’ll see that each one represents a different region of Belgium. When the monument was built, Belgium was composed of 9 provinces, Brabant being just one. But in 1995, they divided up Brabant to Flemish Brabant and Wallonian Brabant, so the counting is a bit off now.
Leopold II, the Builder King, was the man with the plan (funded by a "unique" rubber trade, more on that later). His original idea was for a single arch, like the Arch du Triomphe in Paris, and only the pavilions were completed in 1880. They succeeded in constructing a wooden prototype of the lone archway for the 1897 World's Fair, but following the death of Gedeon Bordiau, the initial architect, in 1904, his French successor Charles Girault preferred a more original three-arch set-up. Consequently, they dynamited the whole thing and began anew in 1905.
The King wasn’t overly happy about all this and demanded that it absolutely had to be finished for the 75th year anniversary the next year. Girault had to round up 450 workers to get the arches and the arcade completed in time. The whole affair became a tourist attraction in its own right. The workers were on shifts 24 hours a day and lighting rigs had to be strewn up. They also built a three-level suspension bridge to get the most work possible done at once.
The Museums
When approaching the arch from Merode, you'll find yourself standing on a grand plaza in a U-shaped complex that houses three world-class museums (all available on the Museum Pass).
The first one, through the Arch and on the left are the Royal Museums of Art and History, which hold prehistoric and artifacts from the Merovingian age (remember Clovis from the history chapter?), as well as some from Egypt and Iran. And a lot of rotating global exhibitions.
Then there is the Military Museum of Belgium and Autoworld, both buildings date to 1880. If you’re at all interested in military history, the Military Museum is a must, with uniforms and armor that dates all the way back to the medieval ages and also including weapons and armor from Congo. And then, in a big hall, there are planes, boats, and tanks. If you know French or Dutch, then there’s also a great exhibition on World War II. There's also a huge hall with a collection of World War I weaponry, including all kinds of zany tank designs and aqua suits for Belgian marines to surprise the Germans from the dykes.
The entry to the Military Museum also includes a grand panorama view from the very top, just under the quadriga (the four-horse chariot). The city stretches out before you with a patchwork of medieval spires, Art Nouveau facades, and gleaming EU buildings. On clear days, the vista extends all the way to the Port of Antwerp.
Autoworld has a collection of about a thousand automobiles. They’ve got some of the first cars ever made to the most recent, and examples from all over the world. It's interesting for car fans, but if you're not one and you don't have the Museum Pass, then it's a hard pass, since at an 18-euro entry it's pretty costly. They also often use the big plaza for car exhibitions. I remember once, there was a swarm of Volkswagens that descended upon Brussels—apparently, there was a Beetle convention.
The Monument to the Belgian Pioneers of the Congo
Again, starting from Merode, going through the arches, and wandering to the leftmost far corner of the park, you'll find a few more monuments. Weird ones. The first on that list, is the Monument to the Belgian "Pioneers" of the Congo, which showcases Congolese slaves and crocodiles.
This fountain monument was originally built for the “explorers” of the Congo behind the murder and ravishing of massive populations of the region. This included the enslavement of the locals for a growing rubber trade under King Leopold II’s private enterprise. The monument says nothing of the dark history behind the rubber and slave trades, and as such only stands in praise of the imperial system and not a true telling of history. It’s often defaced, with red paint thrown over it, especially since the Black Lives Matter protests in the United States triggered a movement in Europe to re-examine some of their own public spaces.
Rubber from the Congo is what made Belgium rich and is what paid for all the beautiful buildings in this park and many more throughout Brussels, earning King Leopold II the title of "Builder King". You can find more on this history under the King Leopold II statue entry in the Upper Town part of this book.
For a long time, there's been a missing inscription on monument. You might notice the removed bits at the inscription on the bottom left. It mentioned the Belgian “explorers” “wiping out the Arab slave trader” (which is also true, though they just replaced the Arabs in that trade). The mention was removed in 1988 because the residents at the Grand Mosque were offended. This, of course, makes the monument all that more unusual. Both Arabs and Europeans had a huge hand in the slave trade in Africa, so you’d think the monument would be most offensive to the ones who were made slaves, that is, the Africans themselves…
The Grand Mosque
The Mosque has a kind of an interesting Art Deco style going on—though originally in a neo-Moorish style by Ernest Van Humbeeck. It was built in 1897 to house a huge painting by Belgian artist Emile Wauters, which had gone on quite a tour of Europe before coming back to Belgium. The painting ended up in the hands of Count Louis Cavens, who had this imitation mosque built to house the painting.
The Mosque-as-exhibition center eventually fell into disrepair, eventually, the painting disappeared, and in 1963 the doors were closed for good. In 1967, King Baudouin lent it to King Faisal ibn Abd al-Aziz of Saudi Arabia in exchange for some oil contracts.
The imitation mosque thus became a real mosque. Unfortunately, rather than a peaceful form of Islam, the extremist Salafism was preached here for the longest time. Two worshippers from this service would later become the terrorists behind the Belgian bombing in 2016, and many more had gone on to join ISIS and other Middle East wars.
So, in 2018, the Saudis were forced to relinquish control. It was handed over to a new non-profit Islamic group that was much more Eurocentric, but it’s since been discovered they were riddled with Moroccan and Turkish intelligence agents. Who knows about the future of the mosque and if state actors will ever just let average people get on with their worship.
The Temple of Human Passions
Awkwardly situated next to the Grand Mosque is Victor Horta's "Temple of Human Passions". This neo-classical slash art nouveau temple was built by the famed architect in 1896. Inside it holds a gigantic marble relief by Jef Lambeaux. Take a close look at the temple and notice there is an excess of slightly off right angles and slightly bent lines, despite appearing classical. That’s part of the art nouveau touch. Everything is just slightly off.
Horta had originally designed it without the front wall so that it’d be open. But Lambeaux wanted his piece to be more exclusively accessed, and eventually Horta had to slap a wall up after Lambeaux died. The building was given to the Sauds as part of the lease with the mosque, who gave it to the Royal Museums of Art and History after their run.
The interior statue was commissioned in 1890 by King Leopold II about all the “passions” of mankind. Rather fitting to the King, it also included the negative passions like war, rape, and suicide. Nobody liked it, and everyone was glad when Horta finally covered it up. You probably can’t see the frieze now as it remains locked through most of the year, but you can look it up online.
Beer Gardens
There are two beer gardens here in the park (and really, that's not enough as they remain quite packed throughout the season). The best one, Chez Maurice, is near the EU Quarters entrance to the park in the Southwest corner. It's in a forested area and they've got great burgers.
The other "beer garden", La Guingette du Peristyle, is a new affair, and the first year was the year of my writing this. It may or may not exist in the years to come, depending on how successful the model is. The cafe is hidden up in the History Museum side of the gallery. If it's open, you'll see a huge scaffolding staircase that leads up to it. They've got the same menu and prices as the forested beer garden.
Gates to Schuman
If you're standing with the Arch at your back, then the sculpture you see on the right is called "Summer" by Jean Canneel. The one on the left is "Autumn" by Gustave Fontaine, both made in the mid-1900s.
Canneel was a Belgian sculptor coming from a family of artists. He fought in World War I, got injured, and did mostly cubist and expressionist forms afterward. In 1957, he traveled to the Congo for a brief stint doing some awkward sculptures of colonial leaders.
Fontaine was another Belgian artist who also did work in Paris and Italy. You can find another famous piece of his in Liege—a huge Lady of Belgium standing at the post of the bridge.
