(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
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The first great figure in Flemish painting who appears to owe little to either of the Van Eycks is Hans Memlinc (c. 1430-94), who probably studied at Cologne before he settled in Bruges about 1467. His paintings in the Hospital of St. John’s at Bruges are world famous, and round them has been woven a pretty legend.
Young Memlinc, the story goes, while fighting as a soldier of Charles the Bold, was desperately wounded and dragged himself to the Hospital of St. John at Bruges, where he was kindly received and his wounds tended. When cured, out of gratitude for no fee, he painted the picture still to be seen in the Hospital.
Unfortunately, historical research has demolished the legend and reveals Memlinc as no soldier of fortune but a prosperous citizen and house-owner in Bruges. Yet the legend well accords with the character of Memlinc’s paintings, which have been likened to ‘the visions of a sick man in convalescence’.
Just as the name of Michael Angelo is indissolubly linked to the Sistine Chapel in Rome, so is that of Memlinc to the Hospital of St. John at Bruges. But while we are awed by the heroic figures and magnitude of the Italian’s paintings at Rome, in Bruges we are fascinated and bewitched by the bijou qualities of the Fleming’s art. Memlinc’s large triptych in the Hospital, ‘The Virgin and Child Enthroned’ with panels on either side of ‘St. John the Baptist’ and of ‘St. John the Evangelist at Patmos,’ is not the work that takes our breath away: it is the ‘Shrine of St. Ursula,’ a wonderfully painted casket—made to hold relics of the saint. Though only 3 feet long and less than 3 feet high, this casket is covered with eight panel paintings, and six medallions on the roof slopes.
Looking at these poetical pictures of a romantic story, it seems ungracious to recall that the legend of St. Ursula, according to modern science, rests on no surer foundation than the discovery in medieval times of an old Roman burial ground. From these unknown remains, it is now said, the tale of Ursula and her 11000 virgins was constructed. Many versions of the legend are in existence; but none nearer than five or six centuries to the date when the events were supposed to have happened. This is the version followed by Memlinc.
Ursula, daughter of a King of Brittany or Cornwall, either to delay marriage with a pagan prince, or alternately to escape the persecution of the British Emperor Maximian, was enjoined to go on a pilgrimage and make 11000 virgins her companion. The company sailed up the Rhine via Cologne to Basle, and thence went by foot to Rome, where they were received by the Pope with every honor and attention. Returning, they sailed up the Rhine from Basle, with papal benedictions, but on arriving at Cologne, they were slaughtered by the Huns. After the martyrdom, their relics were piously collected and buried.
That is the story, and it will be noted that Memlinc, to show how absolutely the Pope was in sympathy with St. Ursula, actually makes him embark with her at the start of the return journey. Incidentally these miniature paintings show that Memlinc knew Cologne well, for in all the scenes which take place in the city he was effectively introduced the Cathedral and other of its principal buildings.
The spirituality of Memlic’s portraiture, his power to paint the soul as well as the surface, is beautifully exemplified in ‘The Duke of Cleves’. His romanticism, a new note which Memlinc definitely contributed to painting, is bewitchingly exhaled from his ‘Betrothal of St. Catherine’ and the ‘Legend of St. Ursula,’ both of which are touching in their simplicity, their freshness, and miniature daintiness.
Already the city, so wealthy in the days of the Van Eycks, had become in the time of Memlinc Bruges-la-Morte. Something of its sad poetic solitude pervades his pictures. The great house of the Medici had collapsed, the rich merchants had gone elsewhere, and the next great Flemish painter, Quinten Massys (1466-1530), was domiciled in Antwerp.
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