Poverty and Romance

Mercy is the mother of salvation

From time to time, I walk through Utrecht as a city guide. I take along family, friends, or acquaintances to the places where the city’s soul can still be felt. No two walks are ever the same, yet I always begin on Dom Square. For me, this is where Utrecht truly began. Two thousand years ago, the Romans built their fort here, the castellum Traiectum, beside a ford in the Rhine that marked the northern frontier of the Roman Empire. From its ramparts, soldiers kept watch against Frisian and Saxon incursions. Centuries later, another story unfolded on this very site: the coming of Christianity. Around 695, the missionary Willibrord crossed from England, commissioned by the pope to convert the Frisians, and Utrecht became his base. Amid the remains of the Roman fort, he built his first church—St. Martin’s. Not a grand cathedral, but a modest chapel that proved to be a turning point: the first episcopal seat of the Northern Netherlands. From there, Utrecht grew into the spiritual heart of the Low Countries. In time, the Dom Church and Dom Tower would rise upon the very foundations of Willibrord’s mission.

Wealthy Benefactors and the Hope of Heaven
The founding of courtyards and alms-houses was never pure selflessness. It fitted neatly within the Catholic faith of the time. Sharing wealth with the poor was thought to improve one’s chances of heaven. In this, Utrecht followed the example of its patron saint, St. Martin, the soldier who divided his cloak with a freezing beggar. In his spirit, the city became a place where charity and salvation intertwined. Often, residents of a courtyard were required to pray daily for the soul of their benefactor. A courtyard was thus not only shelter for the poor, but a living monument of reciprocity: the poor prayed for the rich, and the rich hoped to draw closer to heaven’s gate.

selflessness. It fitted neatly within the Catholic faith of the time. Sharing wealth with the poor was thought to improve one’s chances of heaven. In this, Utrecht followed the example of its patron saint, St. Martin, the soldier who divided his cloak with a freezing beggar. In his spirit, the city became a place where charity and salvation intertwined. Often, residents of a courtyard were required to pray daily for the soul of their benefactor. A courtyard was thus not only shelter for the poor, but a living monument of reciprocity: the poor prayed for the rich, and the rich hoped to draw closer to heaven’s gate.

Landmarks of Charity
One striking example is the Bruntenhof, founded in 1621 by the lawyer Frederik Brunt. He had fifteen modest houses built for impoverished widows, who were given free lodging along with fuel and food. To this day, thanks to his centuries-old will, money is still distributed to elderly people who are poor or in poor health.

The Alms-houses of Jan van Campen on Schalkwijkstraat tell a similar story. In the sixteenth century, this clergyman began building small homes for those struggling to get by. For centuries, people lived here in frugal simplicity, often relying on the care of wealthier citizens. That the houses still survive is remarkable, for in the 1960s and 70s demolition threatened much of the city. Today, some are lived in again—sometimes even by artists, yet the atmosphere of simplicity and vulnerability lingers.

Then there is the Leeuwenbergh, a hospice founded in 1562 by Agnes van Leeuwenbergh. It provided shelter for the poor, the homeless, and plague victims. For many, there was no hope of recovery, but there was care—and that mattered most of all. Together, these places tell the larger story of Utrecht: a city where faith and compassion took on stone form.

Why Preserve Them?
Courtyards and alms-houses are more than old houses. They are heritage—silent reminders that Utrecht grew not only through trade and power, but through compassion. Step inside a courtyard and the city’s noise falls away. You enter a secluded world where time seems to move more slowly. For me, these are moments of romance and nostalgia. I still recall how some courtyards looked in my youth: neglected, with crooked doors and peeling walls. It felt as though the city had turned its back on them, ready to sacrifice this heritage to concrete. Fortunately, they have since been restored, refurbished, and inhabited once more. Where I once saw decay, I now see beauty and pride. That is why we must cherish these places. They bring balance to a city that is constantly changing. Without courtyards and alms-houses, Utrecht would lose not only part of its heritage, but part of its soul.

And for me, as a photographer, they are endlessly photogenic. The play of light and shadow, the old stone façades, the greenery pressing through cracks in the walls—they are images that keep speaking. In these courtyards and alms-houses lies the essence of Utrecht: restrained, humane, and brimming with untold stories. They show that faith and self-interest, compassion and devotion, have always coexisted. And that is the most precious legacy of my city: that compassion is not a relic of the past, but something we are invited to practice repeatedly.

Misericordia est mater salutis

Used sources

Images:
Photos: 1-3 by André Brockbernd © unless otherwise stated.
Photo No 4:
Schalkwijkstraat | Kameren van Jan van Campen | door C. Stevens | 1962
Het Utrechts Archief | Cataloque no 22105

Consulted literatur:
Hofjes van Utrecht
(in Dutch)
door: W. Thoomes
Uitgeverij Matrijs – Utrecht | 1984

You can also read this post in Dutch, click here.