On the far side of a table covered with a green cloth and strewn with various objects, which include a crystal cup and a circular mirror, are seated the banker, wearing a dark blue robe edged with fur, and his wife who is turning over the leaves of an illuminated book of hours. At the back are shelves, on which are displayed books and many decorative objects.
Painted in oil on panel.
Signed on a roll of paper in the background:—“quentin matsys, schilder, 1514.”
2 ft. 5¼ in. × 1 ft. 11¾ in. (0.74 × 0.60.)
BAREND VAN ORLEY
Of the school that flourished in Brussels before Italianism appeared in the person of Barend van Orley (c. 1495–1542), the only name that has come down to posterity is that of Rogier van der Weyden’s follower, Colin de Coter, thanks to the clear inscription
Colin de Coter pinxit me in Brabancia Bruxelle
on the hem of the dress of the kneeling Magdalen in The Holy Women (No. 1952b), which, with The Trinity (No. 1952a) and another lost panel, probably originally formed a triptych. The signed wing was presented to the Gallery in 1903; whilst the Trinity centre-piece was bought two years later from the Abbé Toussaint at St. Omer for £120.
Like Mabuse, Barend van Orley, after showing in his early work clear traces of his descent from the Flemish primitives, drank deeply at the fountain of Italian art. He was profoundly impressed by Raphael, from whom he endeavoured, with a certain degree of success, to learn the noble flow of drapery and the harmonious disposition of the design. On the other hand, he sacrificed the lustrous richness of Early Flemish colour and became addicted to dull grey shadows and pinkish lights. His Holy Family (No. 2067a) does not rank with his finest works, The Last Judgment at Antwerp and the Holy Family at Liverpool. The architectural setting, with a statue of Neptune in a square in the background, indicates the advent of the Renaissance. The picture was bought at the Otlet sale in Brussels, in 1902, for £540. With Barend van Orley closes the chapter of the Early Flemish school. Indeed, he was rather the first of the new era than the last of the primitives.
