The Spell of Flanders / An Outline of the History, Legends and Art of Belgium's Famous Northern Provinces

by Edward Neville Vose

Since this chapter was written the ill-fated city of Malines has been swept with shot and shell for many days together, its once happy and prosperous inhabitants driven far and wide—many of them into foreign lands—and it is doubtful if a single one of the various ancient edifices which we visited last June has escaped injury. Notwithstanding these sad facts it has seemed best to retain the chapter substantially as it was written, inasmuch as it affords a pen picture of the old town as it looked on the very eve of its destruction. Let us hope that when the war is over it will be found that most, if not all, of its famous old structures can be restored again. As the scene of some of the most stubborn conflicts of the great war, it is likely that the city will be more generally visited by tourists than was the case when its architectural and artistic treasures were uninjured, save by the gentle hand of time. To those who thus visit it the following account of the Malines that was may prove interesting.

Situated midway between Antwerp and Brussels, on a route formerly traversed by scores of rapides every day, the ancient city of Malines—which is the French spelling, the Flemish being Mechelen—was exceptionally easy to visit, yet during the three days that we spent wandering along its entrancing old quays and streets and inspecting its many “monuments” we saw not a single tourist. This was the more remarkable because Malines is not only one of the very oldest cities in Northern Europe, but was for centuries among the most famous. For a considerable period it was the capital of all the Netherlands, and it is still the religious capital of Belgium—the archbishop of its cathedral church exercising authority over the bishops of Bruges, Ghent, Liége, Namur and Tournai.

No matter from which side one approaches the city the first object to be seen is the vast square tower of the Cathedral of St. Rombaut, and as this huge structure—the eighth wonder of the world, according to Vauban—dominates the town, so the church itself has dominated the history of the city on the River Dyle for more than eleven centuries. According to tradition St. Rombaut, or Rombold, to use the English spelling, sought to convert the savage tribes inhabiting the marshes that extended along the river about the middle of the eighth century, the date of his martyrdom being placed at 775. A Benedictine abbey was shortly afterwards established near his tomb, which steadily grew in importance and power until by the twelfth century it had become one of the most important religious institutions in the region. During the thirteenth century the prince-bishops of Malines became the virtual sovereigns of the city, one of them—Gauthier Berthout, sometimes called the Great—defeating the Duke of Gueldre, who attempted in 1267 to assert his authority over that of the prelate. At this period many of the religious institutions of Malines were established under the patronage of Gauthier Berthout and his successors.

CATHEDRAL OF ST. ROMBAUT. MALINES.

Meanwhile the comparative immunity of the city from the ravages of the wars that so often raged at that period between the various feudal lords of the region caused great numbers of artisans to settle there, particularly weavers, while the cloth merchants’ guild came to be recognised as entitled to a voice in the civil affairs of the commune. Ships, according to the chronicles, came up the River Dyle in such numbers as to make the commercial activity of the town rival that of Antwerp—a statement that is hard to believe when one gazes at the tiny River Dyle of to-day. However, the ships in those days were very small, and the river, like so many others in Belgium, was no doubt broader then than it is now that the marshes have all been drained. The weavers and other artisans were a turbulent lot, and it soon became evident that the bishops lacked the power to hold them in check.

This led to a series of alienations of the temporal power over the commune to neighbouring princes whose armies were strong enough to keep the unruly burghers in restraint. The first of these was effected in the year 1300 between the prince-bishop, Jean Berthout, and Jean II, Duke of Brabant. In 1303 the news of the great victory gained over the nobility by the Flemish communes at Courtrai caused the citizens to revolt against their new master, the Duke, who besieged the city and finally reduced it by starvation. Until this time the Dyle had never been bridged, its waters flowing over a broad marshy bed. This made the siege the more difficult as the attacking forces were separated by the river, and it was five months before the sturdy burghers yielded. To this day an annual procession, called the peysprocessie, perpetuates the memory of this famous siege.

During the next half century the civil authority over the city became a veritable shuttlecock of politics and war, shifting back and forth between the Dukes of Brabant and the Counts of Flanders. It was bought and sold like a parcel of real estate, but eventually rested with the Counts of Flanders, who had first acquired it by purchase in 1333, and were finally left in undisputed possession by a treaty signed in 1357. Four years later a violent insurrection of the weavers and other artisans broke out that was only mastered after the city had been in their possession fifteen days, but with the advent of the Dukes of Burgundy to the supreme power over all of Flanders, Brabant, Hainaut and Holland, the unruly workmen were no longer strong enough to resist these redoubtable princes. Great numbers of them emigrated to other cities, and the cloth industry, after languishing for a time, finally disappeared.

Like most Flemish towns, Malines has its principal railway station located on its very outskirts, and as far as possible from the Grande Place. A tram car was standing in front of the station on the morning of our first visit, but it seemed that it did not start for ten minutes. A score of roomy two-seated carriages invited our patronage, but we valiantly decided to walk. We soon regretted our decision as the walk proved to be long and hot, with very little of interest to see, as the houses in this part of the town are comparatively modern. At the bridge across the Dyle we paused for a few moments to admire the fine views that can here be had of the old Church Notre Dame au delà de la Dyle to the westward and the equally picturesque Notre Dame d’Hanswyck to the eastward. Just beyond the river is the entrance to the Botanical Gardens, and as our first visit chanced to be on a Friday we walked in unmolested and enjoyed the welcome shade and the beautiful landscape effects of this charming little park. Later on we learned that Friday is the only week-day on which admission is free, a fee of ten cents being exacted on other days.

As is the case in most Belgian cities, the street from the station to the heart of the town, although continuous and straight, changes its name more than once. At the outset it is the rue Conscience, then the rue d’Egmont, and from the bridge across the Dyle to the Grande Place it is named Bruul. Entering the Place from this side we paused to admire the tremendous tower of the cathedral which here burst upon us in all its majestic grandeur, although the edifice is situated a little to the west of the Place itself. In front of us, on the right, was a singularly dilapidated ruin, which we learned was the old Cloth Hall. Part of it is used as a police station, part is vacant with its window openings devoid of sashes or glass staring blankly at the sky, while part is devoted to housing a small museum of municipal antiquities. The first Cloth Hall at Malines was destroyed by fire in 1342, and the new one that was begun to replace it was never finished, owing to the ruin of the cloth industry during the struggles between the artisans and their overlords, and a belfry which it was proposed to erect similar to that at Bruges was never begun. The museum contains a number of pictures by Malines artists, of historical rather than artistic interest, a “Christ on the Cross,” by Rubens, and a variety of relics of the city’s famous past. Curiously enough, there is not a single piece of lace in the collection, nor anything to represent the great cloth weaving industry—the two branches of manufacture to which the city owes so much of its former wealth and fame.