Hans Memling. Alfred Michiels
all aspects of her figure. In the Mystic Marriage of Saint Catherine, and in The Adoration of the Magi, which The St John’s Hospital possesses, both works painted in 1479, we see her occupying the Virgin’s throne and carrying her first born, who portrays the infant Messiah. The latter painting proves that she was very young. But the piece in which we can best study her nature and her physiognomy is a portrait of her alone, which bears the number NG709 in the National Gallery in Britain. Here she is painted in much larger proportions than anywhere else.
In this effigy, she has perfectly regular features, an ample forehead, thin eyebrows, large, well-drawn eyes; a pure and delicate nose, a charming mouth, a small, coquettish chin, and an oval silhouette. Her flowing red hair falls in streams over her shoulders. The painter lovingly displayed her beautiful hands and fingers.[24] Her expression is one of a serious and reflective person. A modest grace, a certain refinement, proves that she was hardly from the lower class, but came from a good family.
The child, whom she carries on her knees and who appears to be one year old at the most, does not resemble her much, although there are several similarities, notably in the shape of his eyes. He has a round, heavy-set face that is not oval-shaped like his mother’s: it makes one think of the physical description of the anonymous traveller, and of his father, “rather plump and rubicund”. This toddler, when he became bigger, must have had, like the celebrated painter, a portliness and a rosy cheeks.
Justus of Ghent, Saint Augustine, c. 1475. Oil on wood panel, 118 × 62 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Justus of Ghent, Saint Jerome, c. 1475. Oil on wood panel, 116 × 68 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.
Hans Memling, Saint Benedict (left shutter of the Benedetto Portinari Triptych), 1487. Oil on wood, 45.5 × 34.5 cm. Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence.
We find these two figures again in all of Memling’s works after the year 1477; there is always a signature on the paintings from this period. If we do not know the dating of his earlier works, we do know at least a few for which the date can be fixed. But we can see how the panels in which the Virgin and her Son are represented compare with other figures; chronological clues serve to determine birthdates, or to certify the missing pieces, in order to prove the accuracy of my remarks.
The documents found in Bruges’ religious and civil archives confirm all my reasoning with regard to Memling’s biography: they tell us that in 1480 he owned two houses situated on Pont-Flamand Street, that they were next to each other and that least one was inhabited by him. Nothing indicates the period when he bought them, but the accounts from Saint Donat church attest that he paid, for the first time on 24 June 1480 a sum of thirty-four deniers, which was paid every year by the owner of these buildings. That same year, the artist gave the town a loan of twenty escalins for the costs of the war that the town then supported along with the rest of the nation. Two hundred and forty-seven people also aided the council of the deputy mayor, and added to the 500,000 livres already being used for the same goal. Memling was reimbursed the next year. Then from September 1482 to September 1483, the town paid him six escalins, in order to compensate him for a quarter of the expenses that he had incurred on his roof, where he replaced the thatch with tiles. Since almost all the houses were covered in straw, the regency, in order to prevent fires, had offered an incentive to the citizens who made use of more solid and less dangerous materials. Simon Marmion (circa 1425–1489) also received a sum for the same reason.
Other information comes to us from diverse sources. During the year 1480, which was of such high importance for Memling, Adrien Reims, administrator of St John’s Hospital, resolved to have a splendid reliquary made, to be used for Saint Ursula’s relics, and commissioned Memling to produce the paintings that would decorate it. Because the legend’s main scenes take place on the banks of the Rhine, Reims thought it indispensable that the artist go to see the country, and especially Cologne, where the pious heroine had been welcomed by Queen Sigillindis, at whose home she would die at the hands of barbarians. The ecclesiastical dignitary paid the expenses of Memling’s voyage. And furthermore, since the first excursion did not suffice, Memling returned to the banks of the great river: Reims again gave him the necessary funds.[25]
Memling then roamed, full of enthusiasm, next to the waves, where the Lorelei fairy played, where two chains of hills threw their shadow and displayed their heads crowned with vineyards. He depicted their image in his works. Cologne, the holy city, city of arts, birthplace of the Germanic ideal in painting, forest of Romanesque bell towers or Gothic towers, nest of marvellous legends, city of sorcerer kings and Saint Ursula; in a word, nothing surprised him, nothing charmed him less; it enthroned him with its perspectives, with its diadem of spires and crenellations. There he admired the noble works of William and Etienne that were under the double influence of Germany and the Netherlands;[26] Memling, whom grace had given such marvellous talents at birth, he whom a ingenious dreamer accompanied on every path, who experienced an intimate joy before these figures, loved the genre of beauty, and it was a profound emotion that agitated his heart. One said that a celestial dew, a springtime dew invigorated his intelligence and lit up his most mysterious abilities. This action fortified the recent bonds between the Flemish and Germanic schools.
A manuscript seems to witness his passage to the banks of the great river. It is a book of prayers in Latin, in quarto format. It was found at the residence of Pastor Fochen, in Cologne, and passed into the collection of the University of Oxford library. It is believed to have previously been the property of Marie de Medici, who died in Cologne. Not only are all the initials of the chapters covered in gold and painting, but the indents of the first lines of the paragraphs are decorated in an equally elegant manner. On these parallel borders, arabesques unfurl, forming groups as long as columns of writing and a third as wide. The bottom is a dusky gold: on the field, flowers, fruit, and every type of bird shine in whimsical designs. At the beginning of the chapters and prayers, one admires large historical scenes, whose subjects come from the Bible and the lives of saints. The richness of invention, grace, and the truth of the order, of the figures, outfits, and landscapes, give these miniatures, which bear the seal of Memling’s style, the utmost value. We do not know the name of the masters who helped him in this work, and we cannot say which paintings are exclusively from his hand. The most beautiful of all depicts the descent of the Holy Spirit, in the painting, the mystical dove spills out of the divine light and perfection.[27]
Returning to Bruges, Memling worked for several years on a poem about Saint Ursula. He finished it in 1486. One must nonetheless state that this work did not absorb all of his time; in 1484 he bought and read, at the Saint Julien hospice, the admirable Saint Christopher, which the Bruges Museum now possesses.
Hans Memling, Saints John the Baptist and Lawrence (shutters of the Pagagnotti Triptych), c. 1480. Oil on oak panel, 57.5 × 17.1 cm. The National Gallery, London.
Hubert and Jan Van Eyck, Triptych of the Adoration of the Lamb known as the Ghent Altarpiece, 1432. Oil on wood panel, 350 × 461 cm. Saint Bavo’s Cathedral, Ghent.
Hans Memling, The Virgin and Child with Angels, after 1479. Oil on wood, 57.6 × 46.4 cm. National Gallery of Art, Washington, D. C.
Hans Memling, The Virgin and Child with Saint Anthony Abbot and a Donor, 1472. Oil on inlaid wood, 92.7 × 53.6 cm. National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa.
Robert Campin, The Annunciation Triptych, c. 1425. Oil on wood, 64.5 × 117.8 cm (central panel: 64.1 × 63.2 cm; shutter: 64.5 × 27.3 cm). The Cloisters
The French can admire these exquisite hands in the painting in the Louvre, which was owned at one time by the Count Duchâtel.
The Mother Superior who communicated these facts to the critic Passavant told him that she had taken them from the hospital archives, to which she refused him entrance. The traveller put them in an article for
Guillaume de Herle, based in Cologne and claimed by Germany as one of their own, was in fact Flemish; he was born in the Flemish-speaking village of Herle (now Heerlen), in the Dutch province of Limburg, three leagues from Maastricht.
“Le peintre de sainte Ursule, dit Nagler, aimait les bords du Rhin, et ses paysages en rappellent les sites. Ce fut dans ces régions qu’il trouva les types des personnages figurés sur la châsse. La ville de Cologne ellemême y est représentée deux fois d’une manière exacte avec quelques-uns de ses principaux monuments. Rien, au contraire, n’atteste la connaissance des anciens édifices de Rome.” (“The painter of Saint Ursula, says Nagler, loved the banks of the Rhine, and these landscapes evoke these places. It was in these regions that he found the types of people featured on the shrine. The city of Cologne itself is represented twice in a precise way with some of its principal monuments. Nothing, in fact, demonstrates knowledge of the ancient edifices of Rome.”)