Marie, Charles’ only daughter, was left by his sudden and unexpected death “the greatest heiress in Christendom,” but also well-nigh helpless to rule over or even hold her widespread dominions. To prevent the King of France from taking advantage of this situation her Flemish counsellors advised her to accept an offer of marriage from Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederick III, and in August of the same year that saw the battle of Granson they were quietly married at Bruges. This event made Flanders a still smaller unit than before in a vast aggregation of states that in the course of events was being combined under the rule of the House of Hapsburg, nor did Marie’s untimely death, less than five years later, in any wise delay the process of consolidation.
Bruges, during the stormy reign of Charles the Bold and the quarter of a century of anxiety and troubles for its burghers that followed after the battle of Nancy, was steadily losing its population and material prosperity, and, at the same time, acquiring its greatest claim to fame—for it was between the year 1462 and 1491 that Memling, the foremost of the early Flemish painters, executed the wonderful series of masterpieces that have come down to us. And it is to Bruges that the student of art must come to see the famous Fleming at his best, for there are more of his important works here than in all the rest of the world put together.
In common with many others in the early Gothic school very little is known of the early life of Hans Memling, but the recent discovery in an old manuscript of a note stating that he was born at or near Mayence gives a most interesting clue both as to his birthplace and the origin of his name. In the Rhineland district near Mayence there is a small tributary to the great river called Memling, and a village named Memlingen. It is probable, therefore, that—just as the brothers Van Eyck called themselves Hubert and Jean of Eyck—so their most famous successor called himself Hans of Memling. For lack of authentic details regarding his early career legend has supplied a most interesting history—that he was wild and dissolute in his younger days, was wounded while fighting with Charles the Bold at Nancy, dragged himself to the door of the hospital of St. Jean at Bruges, and was there tenderly nursed back to health and strength, in gratitude for which he painted for the kind sisters the little gallery of fine works that are still preserved in the original chapter house of the institution. All of this romance, and that of his love for one of the sisters, makes a charming background for many of the accounts of his life and work, but the painstaking scholarship of modern days has shown that at the time when he was supposed to be lying wounded and destitute at the hospital he was in fact very prosperous, having lately bought the house in which he lived and his name appearing as one of the leading citizens of whom the commune had borrowed money. It is perhaps pleasanter on the whole to think of the artist as rich and honoured instead of at the other extreme of the social scale—but the legend is, after all, so much more romantic that we cannot give it up without regret.
At Bruges the first spot for the admirer of Memling to visit is, of course, the hospital of St. Jean, and at the hospital the first thing to see is the world-famous shrine of St. Ursula. Little it is, yet beyond price in value. It was constructed as a casket to contain the relics of the Saint and was completed in 1489. In design it is a miniature Gothic chapel two feet ten inches high and three feet long, with three little panels on each side which contain Memling’s famous pictures setting forth the life and martyrdom of the Saint and the eleven thousand other virgins who shared her fate. The story of the famous pilgrimage to Rome and its melancholy ending at Cologne has been told so often that it need not be repeated here. Ask one of the sisters to tell it to you in her charming broken French—for they are Flemish, these sweet-faced sisters, and, as a rule, understand neither French nor English.
SHRINE OF ST. URSULA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JEAN, BRUGES.
This fact is said to have served them in good stead on the terrible day when the bandit-soldiery of the French Republic clamoured at the doors of the hospital in 1494. “The shrine! the shrine!” they cried, “give us the shrine!” (“La châsse, la châsse, donnez nous la châsse!”) The nuns, who had never heard it called by that name, but knew it only by its Flemish name of Ryve, replied that they did not possess such a thing as a châsse, and their voices and expressions so clearly showed their truthfulness and innocence of any deceit that the rabble of soldiers went away and the shrine was saved. Early in the nineteenth century the Mother Superior refused a most tempting offer to purchase the shrine, replying, “We are poor, but the greatest riches in the world would not tempt us to part with it.”
While the paintings on the shrine are the most famous of Memling’s works, they are not regarded by the critics as being his best. As Mr. Rooses expresses it, “The artist seems to have been less intent on perfection of detail for each figure than on the marvellous polychromy of the whole.” The hospital of St. Jean possesses three of the master’s greatest works—two triptychs entitled “The Marriage of St. Catherine” and “The Adoration of the Magi,” and the diptych representing the Madonna and Martin Van Nieuwenhove. The museum at Bruges contains still another masterpiece, a picture showing in the centre St. Christopher, St. Maurus and St. Giles—the first bearing the Infant Christ upon his shoulders—while the two shutters contain the usual portraits of the donors. One of Memling’s most important works was a picture of “The Last Judgment” which was painted for an Italian, Jacopo Tani, and placed on board ship to be sent to Florence by sea. The ship was captured by privateers in the English Channel, and as its owners were citizens of Dantzig it was presented by them to the Church of Our Lady in that city, where it still remains. There are several admirable works by this master at the museums of Brussels and Antwerp, while others are scattered throughout Europe, and one particularly fine example of his art was brought to America by the late Benjamin Altman and now hangs in the Altman collection at the Metropolitan Museum at New York.
While the chief interest to the visitor at the hospital of St. Jean is the remarkable collection of works by Memling, the old buildings themselves merit more than a casual glance. Some of them date from the twelfth century, and the view looking back at the ancient waterfront from the bridge by which the rue St. Catherine here crosses the river is particularly picturesque. The old brick structures go down to the very water’s edge, and sometimes below it, and the entire pile from this side must look much as it did in Memling’s day.
Another artist whose work sheds lustre on the old town of Bruges was Gheerhardt David. For nearly four centuries his name and even his very existence were forgotten, his paintings being attributed to Memling—in itself a high evidence of their merit. Recent studies by James Weale and other scholars have given us quite a complete life of this artist, who lived between 1460 and 1523, and a number of his works have been identified. All of these seem to have been painted at Bruges, and some of the more notable ones still remain there. The municipal authorities commissioned him to paint two great pictures representing notable examples of justice such as Van der Weyden had done for the Hotel de Ville at Brussels. These depict the flaying alive of the unjust Judge Sisamnes by Cambyses, King of Persia, and are still preserved in the museum at Bruges. The museum also possesses another masterpiece by this artist, “The Baptism of Christ.” Others that have been identified through painstaking study of the old archives of the city and contemporary sources are located in the National Gallery at London and in the museum of Rouen.