Church of Our Lady of Laeken

Start with the stone. Run your eyes up the pale grey facade and notice how it narrows into points and pinnacles. Up close, the surface is cool and slightly rough, weathered by more than a century of Brussels rain. Traffic hums along the wide avenue behind you, but here, at the foot of the steps, the sound drops away. This is the Church of Our Lady of Laeken. It is a parish church, a royal burial place, and a monument to a single grief.

The story begins with a queen. Louise-Marie of Orléans was the first queen of the Belgians, the wife of King Leopold I. She died in 1850, still young, and she was deeply loved by ordinary Belgians. Her wish was to be buried in Laeken, the quiet district north of the city centre where the royal family lived. The old village church here was small and modest. The king decided that his wife deserved something far grander.

So Leopold commissioned a new church, and the job went to a young architect named Joseph Poelaert. Remember that name. Poelaert later designed the enormous Palace of Justice that looms over the south of Brussels. That building is one of the largest constructed in the nineteenth century. Here, though, he worked in a different mood. He chose the neo-Gothic style, a nineteenth-century revival of the pointed arches and soaring verticals of medieval cathedrals.

The first stone was laid in the 1850s, and the work moved slowly. The church was consecrated in the early 1870s, but it was not truly finished then. The tall tower and spire came much later, completed only in the early twentieth century. Many people who prayed here in the early decades saw a building still under construction. That long gap is common for big Gothic Revival projects. Money, politics and changing tastes all slowed the masons down.

Look closely at the facade now. Notice the deep central portal, framed by layers of pointed arches that step inward toward the doors. Above it, the windows climb toward the gable, and slim turrets stand on either side. Gothic builders used these vertical lines to pull the eye upward. Poelaert followed the same logic. Even from the bottom of the steps, the whole front seems to lean toward the sky. Step back across the square and the spire comes fully into view.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. This church does not stand alone in its story. Walk around to the back, and you will find the old Laeken cemetery. Inside it stands the surviving choir of the earlier church, the one Louise-Marie knew. It is much smaller and much older. Seeing the two side by side tells you a lot. The modest village chapel stays behind, while the royal church rises in front of it.

That cemetery holds a second surprise. Among the tombs stands a bronze cast of The Thinker, the famous seated figure by the French sculptor Auguste Rodin. It sits on a private grave, chin on hand, among the moss and old stone crosses. Most people associate the statue with museums in Paris. Finding it here, in a quiet Brussels graveyard, feels almost unreal. The cemetery is also known for its nineteenth-century funerary art, so take your time there.

Now return to the church itself, and to its deepest purpose. Behind the choir lies the Royal Crypt, the burial place of the Belgian royal family. Leopold I and Louise-Marie rest there, together. So do later kings, including Leopold II, Albert I, Leopold III and Baudouin. Queen Astrid, who died in a car accident in Switzerland in 1935, is buried here too. Her death shocked the country, and Belgians still remember her with real tenderness.

The crypt is not open every day. Access is limited to certain dates and periods, so check ahead if you hope to go down. Even when it is closed, you can sense its weight. The royal family returns here for funerals and remembrance services. When King Baudouin died in 1993, crowds lined the streets of Laeken. For many Belgians, this building is linked to those moments of national mourning more than to any architectural style.

The church is also about something older than the monarchy. Its full dedication is to Our Lady of Laeken, and devotion to the Virgin Mary here goes back many centuries. Laeken was a place of pilgrimage long before any king arrived. Legend has it that the Virgin herself marked out the plan of the first church with a thread. It is a folk story, not history. But it shows how long ordinary people have treated this spot as sacred.

If the doors are open, step inside. The interior is tall and fairly austere, with clustered columns rising into ribbed vaults. Coloured light falls through the stained glass and moves slowly across the stone floor. Look for the venerated statue of Our Lady, the focus of that old pilgrimage tradition. Listen, too. A large neo-Gothic nave carries every footstep and cough. Voices drop to a whisper here, almost without anyone deciding to lower them.

It helps to place this church in its neighbourhood. Laeken feels very different from the old centre of Brussels. It is greener and more spacious, shaped by royal estates and wide avenues. The Royal Palace of Laeken, the family's residence, lies not far away. So do the park, the Royal Greenhouses and, further on, the Atomium. In a sense, this church is the spiritual anchor of a royal quarter that grew up around the king's household.

Before you leave, stand at the bottom of the steps one more time. Look up at the spire, then down at the worn stone under your feet. Thousands of mourners have stood exactly here, for queens and kings, but also for their own families. Behind you the traffic continues, and the city goes on with its day. As you walk away, glance back once. The pale tower will stay on the skyline for a long time.