Hans Memling

“ This unusual tenderness of feeling is probably also the origin of the legend that Memling was taken into the Hospital of S. John at Bruges—where he painted most of his masterpieces—as a sick soldier after the battle of Nancy. In feeling for beauty and grace he was more gifted than any painter except Hubert Van Eyck, and this quality, conspicuous amid the somewhat ugly realism of most of his contemporaries, has ensured him perhaps a little more popularity than is rightly his share. ”

“ That art dealer said I was a bad painter. Those art dealers always say that of truly great painters at first. What if I should paint so much better than the men whose pictures I’m to disguise, that I should feel it my duty to art not to rub out my own pictures?”
“Well, I should worry!”
V. In the emerald depths of Fontainebleau Forest, Memling sat painting the portrait of an ancient oak, a veritable grand duke of a tree. Nellie was sitting on the turf, watching him. ”

“ As Memling unslung his canvas from his back, he bowed to the old artist who lived at their little hotel, a genial patriarch who was so kindly of soul that Memling felt ashamed of himself for not admiring the veteran’s art as much as his heart.
Nellie had quite fallen in love with him. Old Henri la Berthe—which Nellie called “Ornery lar Boit—knew a little English, and enjoyed trying to make Nellie understand it. He even enjoyed trying to comprehend her. It was a sort of game of chess. To-day he insisted on seeing Memling's work, and it evoked his intense enthusiasm. ”

“ When it comes to art, commend us to Dirk Memling. If he paints a picture it is a real painting, not a daub. His heart is in it; his soul. This is the story of how, during his stay in the beautiful city on the Seine, he painted, alas, too well
IF I’d ’a’ been slammed ashore on Robinson Caruso’s island all by me lonesome, I couldn’t feel lonesomer than what I feel lonesome now.” Nellie Gaskell was mumbling to herself for company. Crowds surrounded her, but she knew nobody. She faced the city of Cherbourg, and was afraid of it. ”

“ Memling sighed dismally: "The circumstances are not particularly conducive to a jocund entente."
Nellie threw him a startled look. "I got the woid 'soicumstances,' but after that I fell off. But I think the soicumstances are such that we all got a right to be full of glee and moith. Here's you, the greatest sculptor in the woild, making the portrait bust of a grande dame—I suppose swells don't call it bust, but boist—anyway, you ought to be happy dabbling in clay again, but you act like you was kneading red-hot mush and it boint your fingers. ”

“ He and the artist exchanged rapid-fire chatter that evidently sent Memling into the seventh heaven of pride. Later he said to Nellie:
“The old man’s a bad painter, but he’s a good judge of what other people do.”
“Not knocking your own woik, at all,” Nellie had to say. But Memling was soaring too loftily to be brought down by any little shaft of irony.
The next morning he was up with the sun, for artists are Parsees by profession; they must serve in the temple of light while their god is there. ”

“ It was evident that during the night a cordon had been drawn around the Worthington estate. They were under siege.
Believing that the best defense is attack, Memling determined to make a sally. After an examination through the commodore's marine glasses, he decided that the man on the front beach was Lieutenant Melick himself in plain clothes. He decided to beard the lion before the lion sprang at him. Nellie protested frantically, but Memling answered that if they were to be taken it would happen inside the house or out. ”

“ I got into the main station at Cherbourg a few minutes ago, and took a cab to the dock, hoping against hope that you would have stayed. And you did. God bless you, you did!”
“I’ve loined that when you say ‘Meet me at a soitain spot,’ that’s the spot I’m supposed to meet you at.”
“Weren’t you worried sick?”
“Oh, no; I was simply in a Toikish bath, that’s all. But the main thing is, we’ve met up again. Let’s get a pair of handcuffs and lock ourselves together, and throw the key away, so we won’t lose us any more.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Memling, locking hands with her. “Jump in the cab.” ”

“ The commodore looked disappointed, and insisted. While he was urging her, Nellie was remembering that absence is said to make the heart grow fonder. She wondered if it would not be the best tactics to leave Memling alone with his old "frump of a grande damn"—Nellie thought of her now with an "n." She knew that Memling had a gift for jealousy, and she sometimes felt that she neglected it too much. If he really loved her, he would think more about her if she were out yachting with another man than if she were helplessly sulking in a chair while he sculped another woman. ”

“ He poured forth a French rhapsody which Memling translated to Nellie in the crevices of the conversation.
“He says it’s wonderful—I’ve got the texture—better than Diaz, he says—no, not the Mexican—Diaz, the immortal painter—he says Diaz’s trees were too velvety—too plushy. But he says I ought to get the human note in—just a picture of a tree is not popular—he suggests a nymph or something—a dryad—or a Watteau shepherdess—not a bad idea—fun to do, anyway.” ”

“ As soon as the trunk was taken to her room at the hotel Memling had selected, she was all for venturing forth again.
Refreshed by her sleep on the train, and stimulated by the ozone of Paris air, she had the mood of a summer dawn. And Mending, renewing his acquaintance with the Paris of his young art-student days, felt youth throbbing again in his arteries.
He kept full stride with Nellie’s zestful pace, and the sidewalk café, which was such a joyous discovery to her, was a paradise regained to him. ”

“ Memling vowed.
“Do what again?”
“Use forethought and caution, and all that sort of thing. Every time I take old Father Time by the forelock, he knees me in the stomach. Never in my life did I set out extra early to make a train that I didn’t get left.”
“There’s sumpum in what you say, Doik,” Nellie philosophized. “Trust to luck and you got a chance—not much, but some. But use your brain and it seems like you was challengin’ the Fates to a duel. They feel they gotta show you what a woim you really are.” ”

“ Memling beamed. "I don't know much about police affairs, but with so many policemen going to Sing Sing promotions must be very rapid, and you look to me like an ambitious man. You leave no stomach unturned—I mean no stone unturned. Fancy, now, you're being so thorough as to visit the home of so prominent a man as Commodore Worthington and accuse a starving sculptor of having carried off a whole storage warehouse. ”

“ Memling answered with a bow.
“Paris is doin’ you good already,” Nellie beamed. “Keep right on.”
“I painted a portrait of you, and showed it to old Vervins. He said: ‘You are a very poor painter, monsieur, but if you can remove what you put on, I shall do myself the honor of calling you a great artist.’”
Nellie was furious. “He’s got a noive! Why didn’t you smack his fat face off for him?” she demanded. “Telling you you weren’t a great painter. Didn’t you tell him you were a great sculptor?” ”

“ Worthington was worn to peevishness, and she observed contemptuously:
"They show their lack of intelligence in attempting the crime in the first place. And as for imagination, if they had any they would realize that they are bound to be caught."
"Not necessarily," said Memling, "for the people who are set to catch them are sometimes even less intelligent and even less imaginative. And the coarsest work sometimes goes undetected, the plainest clews overlooked. ”

“ Success meant so much; failure meant the end of everything except life—and what was life without liberty and the pursuit of happiness?
IV. The commodore was fortunately called to a meeting of the house committee of his yacht club, and the evening was devoted to perfecting the alibi.
A complete series of events was constructed and memorized, rehearsed, altered, and rerehearsed. Memling tried to forestall every possible flaw in the story. He played the part of an imaginary detective, and put Mrs. Worthington, Nellie, and himself through grueling cross-examinations. ”

“ The commodore, Mrs. Worthington, and Nellie made themselves conspicuous on the veranda.
Memling reached the pier without being held up, and the motor boat hastened him to the yacht. The anchor came up with a rush, and the vessel turned her nose to New York. Memling retired to a stateroom and emerged in his own clothes. The yacht dropped him in a dinghy at an unfrequented slip, and he made his way to his club, found in his letter box the self-addressed envelope containing the safe-deposit keys, and took a taxicab to the warehouse. ”

“ And her shoes were too tight. And her other shoes were in her trunk. And she didn’t know where her trunk was.
After the harrowing series of mishaps that had attended her efforts to reach Paris with Dirk Memling, it seemed hardly possible that Fate should have another knife up her sleeve. She and Dirk had managed to get themselves separated in New York, and take different ships oversea. That ought to have been enough. But evidently it was not. Nellie bitterly recalled her motto:
“Poik up, old goil, the woist that ever was can always get a little woisser.”
But Doik hadn’t otta not met her. ”

“ Nellie turned to Memling: "I knew it! They can disguise anything except their feet." She turned to Berthe: "And what did he have to say for himself, Boit?"
"Nossing for himself, madame. Me, I do not go to the door, but I hear heem ask the second man much question—when are you come here, how long you stay, and I do not know what."
"What did the second baseman say?"
"He say you are come feerst for Saturday a week ago, and then you are come back for veesit and make the bust of madame."
Nellie sighed with relief. "Doik, you'll have to slip that second baseman a little extra pin money. ”

“ All that day the cordon remained. And the next morning the same figures were visible like hungry wolves on the prowl about a sheepfold.
VI. "Doik, we gotta do sumpum to shake off that Melick mut," said Nellie. "We can't stay here forever. I think I'd rather be in the pen than spend a life sentence here watching Mrs. Worthington pouring the love light from her eyes on you, and dodging the old commodore's impoitinent advances to me."
"If I only had those documents of Melick's here, I could scare him to death. I wasn't as wise as I thought I was when I put them in the Continental Warehouse. ”

“ Every head, hand, and drapery, are thoroughly studied. Dark rocks, lofty cypresses, and distant hills, make up a landscape which adds solemnity and depth of colour. Within a few minutes' walk of the Marien Kirche and this Pietà still remains Memling's masterpiece, which, as already related, had deeply impressed the youthful painter while yet in the Lübeck home, but allegiance had been long, we know, transferred from old German to Italian art, and accordingly the style adopted recalls well‐remembered compositions by Francia, Fra Bartolommeo, and Perugino. ”

“ Ursula, an oblong tabernacle of carved oak with gabled ends, for which Memling did a series of miniatures, is one of the most beautiful accomplishments of this kind in the world. In very contracted panels, Memling has placed hundreds of beautiful faces and details of architecture, shipping and water scenes that must be seen to be appreciated. "It has been said that Van Eyck, even when painting religious subjects, only awakes earthly ideas, whilst Memling, even when painting earthly scenes, kindles thoughts of heavenly things. ”

“ As a rule, the Madonna is the least interesting part of all Flemish painting; and after her, the women, especially the young ones. The men’s faces are best, and better when old: character, not beauty, is what the painter cares for. This is most noticeable in Van Eyck, but is true in part even of Memling.
At the end of the room is the magnificent *triptych painted by Memling for the High Altar of the Church of this Hospital. This is the largest of his works, and it is dedicated to the honour of the two saints (John the Evangelist and John the Baptist) who are patrons of the Hospital. ”

“ Critical opinion has been unanimous in assigning the altarpiece of Danzig to Memlinc; and by this it affirms that Memlinc was a resident and a skilled artist at Bruges in 1473; for there is no doubt that the “Last Judgment,” was painted and sold to a merchant at Bruges, who shipped it there on board of a vessel bound to the Mediterranean, which was captured by a Danzig privateer in that very year. ”

“ Worthington began to complain of brain fag, and Nellie to grow hysterical. Memling himself felt the invasion of panic.
"It's small wonder that crime is difficult," he mused aloud, "for the criminal has to take things as they come. A playwright can imagine his own people and his own plot, and then, after he has worked over it for years, and after a company has rehearsed it for weeks—when it is played it may be found so full of contradictions that the lowest brow in the gallery won't accept it. And yet some people blame criminals for lack of imagination and intelligence." ”

“ Worthington planned. For when Nellie returned, she heard Mrs. Worthington chattering like a magpie, and Memling laughing with more than polite interest.
Mrs. Worthington was saying:
"After all, there isn't any figure more picturesque than Claude Duval, or Dick Turpin, do you think so? If one is a gentleman it doesn't matter so much about his profession, does it? I always believe that manners are far more important than morals, don't you? In fact, they are the highest kind of morals—don't you think so? ”