Brower did not continue long in the hospitable mansion of Rubens, whose
refined and elegant manners, love of literature, and domestic happiness
were less congenial to this erratic genius than the revels of his
pot-companions. Brower soon became weary of his situation, and returned
to his vicious habits, to which he soon fell a victim in 1640, at the
early age of 32 years. He died in the public hospital at Antwerp, and
was buried in an obscure manner; but when Rubens knew it, he had the
body reinterred, with funeral pomp, in the church of the Carmelites; and
he intended also to have erected a superb monument to his memory, had he
lived to see it executed; though Sandrart says there was a magnificent
one over his tomb, with an epitaph to perpetuate his honor.