Antwerp’s Cathedral of Our Lady is an unusually large building, the largest Gothic structure in the Low Countries, which reflects Antwerp’s medieval power and ambition. It’s considered one of the peak achievements of Gothic architecture… and yet we’re lucky it’s still there at all.
Changing fortunes over the last ten centuries have led it to fires, plunder and iconoclasm almost too many times to imagine; at one point, it was even slated for demolition by French rulers in 1798.
To give it its local name, it’s the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekathedraal, a sharp reminder that Antwerp is the largest city of Belgium’s Flanders region and firmly Flemish-speaking, despite the tendency of many people, myself included, to somehow think of Belgium as all French-speaking.
Several paintings by Peter Paul Rubens were commissioned for the cathedral and still hang there (although they spent years in French captivity). Above, Descent from the Cross, and Elevation of the Cross
Facing the Rubens ‘Descent’ in which Jesus is borne from the Cross, Jan Fabre‘s ‘Man who Bears the Cross’ reflects the artist’s need to balance duty and faith.
Like nearly every other major religious monument in Europe, it started small, with the arrival of Christian missionaries in the 600s. They built a parish church on the site. Nearly razed by Vikings in 836 (Antwerp is well-located for all sorts of invasions), it was rebuilt. In the 11th century a church split resulted in a new chapel, the first Our Lady, on an adjoining spot.
That church represented the losing side in the split, but the winning side in history. Its popularity grew, and by 1124 work started on the first version of the present building, with plans so grand that the width—not the length!—of the church was almost half the length of a football field.
The work of the original builders, and the architect/stonemasons Jan and Pieter Appelmans is honored by this 1930s sculpture near the main entrance
The construction moved along with considerable speed, relatively, from start to near-finish (is one of these ever really finished?) in only 170 years, and in 1521 it was dedicated and fully occupied. Fast forward to 1533, and a fire destroyed most of the church’s fittings, though the building was saved.
Within 25 years or so, the church was restored, and in 1559, it became a cathedral for the new diocese of Antwerp. But, times were tight, and the money for the restoration was the money that was meant to build the second tower, now a long-abandoned project. The 17th-century engraving by Wenceslaus Hollar shows how it was meant to look. The complete tower was one of the world’s tallest when built.
But those were years of political and religious unrest, often connected as Protestant and Catholic princes seized power and mobs often seized churches to clear out what they considered idolatry. This iconoclasm hit Our Lady twice, in 1566 and 1581, and only stopped when Catholic rule returned in 1585.
Speaking of the tower, we should mention the bells. There’s a carillon of 49 bells, of which the largest, Karolus, was cast in 1507. It weighs over seven tons by itself, and tolling it takes sixteen bell-ringers. Karolus is mostly what you hear in the first two minutes of the first video, but by minute five, the others have (ha-ha!) chimed in. If you’ve less patience, the second one is a sample.
And then the French Revolution, with invading French troops plundering the cathedral in 1794, followed by a 1798 plan by revolutionary authorities to tear it down. It probably owes its survival to Napoleon’s coming to power the next year. While the French Revolution rejected religion, Napoleon did not reject the potential value of support from Rome, and an 1801 Concordat left the cathedral alone, although no longer seat of a bishop. Antwerp didn’t become a separate diocese again until 1961.
The unusual onion-shaped dome that can be seen from the outside only hints at its existence, inside. It was added during the 1500s restoration; its several courses of windows feed a lot of light into the building, especially on sunny days.
A wonderfully fanciful pulpit mixes statuary and nature to almost seem as if it were growing out of the cathedral floor. Below, choir stalls with a miniature of the the cathedral tower, and a handsome set of confessionals that might not seem so attractive if you are carrying a heavy load of sins.
Extensive stained glass of different periods; a number of windows such as the one in the title image and this one are narratives of historic and religious events in amazing detail, while others are more restrained images of rulers and saints.
Not unexpectedly, quite a number of burials and memorials, both free-standing and in the floor. On the other hand, during the various attacks on the building quite a bit of older funerary sculpture disappeared.
Restorations in the 19th and 20th centuries have included some archaeological work under the present building. The picture below shows the footing under one of the pillars; a nearby small stairway gives access to a small area of the large space still to be explored underneath.
And, in another area, some older decoration of the walls has been retrieved from under more recent coatings.
And a few more views…
Once again, a rebuttal of the idea that if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all!
