Hardly less interesting is the ancient church of Notre Dame d’Hanswyck, situated on the same side of the Dyle as the other Notre Dame just described. A chapel was erected on the site of this church soon after the country was converted from paganism by St. Rombaut, and a large church was built near the end of the thirteenth century. This, however, was pillaged by the iconoclasts in 1566, riddled by shot from the cannon of the Prince of Orange in 1572, and finally completely demolished eight or nine years later by the Gueux. It was not until 1663 that the present edifice was begun. It was designed by Luke Faid’herbe, the famous sculptor of Malines and a pupil of Rubens, and was built under his personal supervision. The church itself is a veritable museum of the works of this master. The finest and most famous of these are the two bas-reliefs in the dome, one showing “The Nativity,” and the other “The Saviour Falling Under the Burden of the Cross.” The pulpit, by Theodore Verhaegen, is a fine example of Flemish wood carving. In this church the chief treasure, from the standpoint of its priests and parishioners, is the miraculous statue of the Virgin, which dates from 988, or earlier, according to some authorities. It is made of wood, painted and gilded, and is life size. Not the least miraculous feat of this interesting relic of the Middle Ages is its escape from destruction, at the hands of the iconoclasts, the Gueux, and the French revolutionists. At the period when the church itself was destroyed the statue was hidden in a secret subterranean passage for nearly a century; during the French Revolution it was successively lodged in various houses in the rue d’Hanswyck—each time being replaced in the church, after the danger was over, amid great popular rejoicing.
Another church that is a small art gallery is that of St. Jean, not far from the cathedral. Here is the fine “Adoration of the Magi,” by Rubens, which many critics consider one of the four best of his ceremonial works. It was painted in 1617, the year before “The Miraculous Draught of Fishes,” at Notre Dame de la Dyle, when the artist was fresh from his studies in Italy, and before his success had caused him to employ a throng of students to assist in the production of his works. Furthermore, it was executed for this very church, which still possesses his receipt for the final payment, written in Flemish, dated March 24, 1624, and signed by the artist, “Pietro Paulo Rubens.” The price was eighteen hundred florins, but for good measure the church obtained three small paintings by the great master to be hung below the triptych. In 1794 these pictures were taken to Paris and the “Adoration of the Magi” was not restored to its original position until after the fall of Napoleon. Two of the small pictures, “The Adoration of the Shepherds” and “The Resurrection,” are now in the museum of Marseilles—having never been returned—while the third, “Christ on the Cross,” after changing hands several times, was at last purchased by an amateur who recognised its authorship and history and restored it to the church of St. Jean. The two little pictures on either side of it, often attributed to Rubens, are by Luc Franchoys the younger. This church also boasts some marvellous Flemish wood carvings. Around the two pillars of the transept where it intersects the nave are some bas-reliefs, six altogether, by Theodore Verhaegen and his pupils, that if there was nothing else to see would alone justify a visit to St. Jean, while the pulpit by the same master, representing “The Good Shepherd Preaching to His People,” is one of the most noteworthy of the numerous examples of pulpit carving to be seen in Flanders. Below the organ are two more admirable bas-reliefs carved in Flemish oak by Pierre Valckx, a pupil of Verhaegen.
Of the many other churches in the old town it would be tedious to speak. Nowhere in all Flanders did we see so many black-robed priests walking solemnly about—although they do not lack in any part of the country. All Belgium, in fact, is full of priests, monks and nuns, owing to the expulsion of the religious orders from France some years ago. We frequently engaged them in conversation to ascertain more about the monuments we were visiting and invariably found them courteous and well-informed, and not infrequently we were indebted to them for suggestions or information of much value. At the same time, it must be said that it seems to a layman as though there are far too many for so small a country, but their fine spirit of devotion during the war—when thousands of them shared cheerfully the hardships of the soldiers—will never be forgotten.
Of the civil edifices in Malines the most important is the Hotel de Ville. Architecturally it is disappointing, save for the older portion, which was called Beyaerd, and was purchased by the commune in 1383. The greater part of the edifice was reconstructed during the eighteenth century. The many rooms in the interior are pleasing but hardly notable, nor are the paintings and sculptures important save to the historian. In the Vieux Palais, the room in which the Great Council of the Netherlands held its sessions from 1474 to 1618, is still preserved in its original state, while one of the ancient paintings on the wall shows the Council in session. In this building also is the curious statuette of the Vuyle Bruydegom called “Op-Signorken,” whose grinning face and quaint mediæval costume are reproduced on many postcards. The history of this worthy is best told in French—and in whispers!
IN HET PARADIJS AND MAISON DES DIABLES: TWO FIFTEENTH CENTURY HOUSES, MALINES.
In our tramps around the narrow, crooked streets of the old town, and along its picturesque quays, we found many fine examples of fifteenth and sixteenth century architecture. On the Quai au Sel is the House of the Salmon, the ancient guildhouse of the fishmongers, which dates from 1530, and on the Quai aux Avoines we visited the little estaminet entitled In het Paradijs, with its two painted reliefs of the Fall and Expulsion from Eden, and the Maison des Diables—so called from the carved devils that decorate its wooden façade of the sixteenth century. The Grand Pont across the Dyle to these old quays itself dates from the thirteenth century, as its grimy arches testify.
After the defeat and death of Charles the Bold at Nancy his widow, Margaret of York, transferred her residence to Malines, and here she raised and educated the two children of her daughter, Marie of Burgundy, Philip the Handsome and Margaret of Austria. Their father, the Emperor Maximilian, was so occupied with affairs of state over his widely scattered realm that he seldom came to the city, but from 1480 onward the States General of the Netherlands often met here, and in 1491 Philip the Handsome presided at a chapter of the Order of the Golden Fleece at the cathedral of St. Rombaut. On his premature death, in 1506, Maximilian again became Regent, as Philip’s eldest son Charles was barely six years old. The following year Maximilian made his daughter Margaret of Austria Governess-General of the Netherlands and guardian of Philip’s children. Margaret at once chose Malines, where she had herself been educated, as her seat of government and there she reigned as Regent until her death twenty-three years later. This period was the golden age in the history of the city on the Dyle, its brief day of splendour.
In her infancy Margaret had been betrothed to the son of the King of France, Louis XI—the cunning enemy of her house whose plots had brought about the ruin of her grandfather, Charles the Bold. She was only three, and the Prince Dauphin, afterwards Charles the Eighth, was only twelve. Nine years later a more advantageous alliance caused him to renounce this betrothal, and Margaret was subsequently married by proxy to the son of the King of Spain. On her voyage from Flushing to Spain a storm arose which nearly wrecked her ship, and after it had somewhat subsided she and her companions amused themselves by each writing her own epitaph. That composed by Margaret, then a sprightly girl of eighteen, is well known: