J.B. Houwaert Bust

Johan Baptista Houwaert, a man of letters and contradictions, stares out at you from his bust. Here, in the heart of Brussels, his presence whispers tales of a tumultuous past. The J.B. Houwaert Bust commemorates a complex figure, a man who straddled the worlds of art, politics, and religious upheaval in 16th-century Brabant. Born in Brussels in 1533, Houwaert, a member of the wealthy Sweerts patrician family, enjoyed the privileges of his status. He married into further wealth, acquiring properties like the Wijngaardsberg estate, which he transformed into his personal “Kleyn Venegien” (Little Venice). His writings often extolled the beauty of his beloved Brussels, particularly the Maalbeek Valley, which he considered one of Europe’s most beautiful locales. Yet, beneath the veneer of a successful poet and playwright, a storm brewed. Houwaert, while outwardly Catholic, held sympathies for the burgeoning Lutheran movement. This dangerous flirtation with reform caught the attention of the Duke of Alva, who imprisoned him in the Treurenborch (Tower of Tears) on suspicion of heresy. To escape execution, Houwaert recanted his Protestant leanings, only to later support William of Orange, a champion of the Protestant cause. His final work, however, reaffirmed his Catholic faith, adding another layer of complexity to his already enigmatic persona. J.B. Houwaert’s legacy is as convoluted as his life. His prolific writings, ranging from epic poems like “Pegasides pleyn, ende den lust-hof der maeghden” to politically charged works like “Milenus clachte”, earned him both acclaim and controversy. He was hailed as a new Homer by some, while others dismissed his work as old-fashioned rhyme. He navigated the treacherous waters of the Reformation, switching allegiances and ultimately leaving behind a puzzle for historians to decipher. The J.B. Houwaert Bust serves not just as a memorial to the man, but also as a reminder of a turbulent era, a time of shifting loyalties and ideological clashes. As you gaze upon his likeness, imagine the whispers of his poetry, the echoes of political intrigue, and the weight of his internal conflicts. They all converge here, frozen in time, in the heart of Brussels.