Altar of the Last Judgment in Beaune, general view, open altar. Rogier van der Weyden

1448-1451, oil on panel, about 215 × 560 cm
Beaune, Hôtel-Dieu
Client: Chancellor Rolin, World Court Altar for the hospice he founded in Beaune
Style: Old Dutch painting

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Altar des Jüngsten Gerichtes in Beaune, Gesamtansicht, geöffneter Altar. Rogier van der Weyden

1448–1451, Öl auf Holz, etwa 215 × 560 cm
Beaune, Hôtel-Dieu
Auftraggeber: Kanzler Rolin, Weltgerichtsaltar für das von ihm gestiftete Hospiz in Beaune
Stil: Altniederländische Malerei

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. Ρόχιερ φαν ντερ Βάιντεν

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The Beaune Altarpiece (c. 1445–50), often called The Last Judgement, is a large polyptych altarpiece by the Early Netherlandish artist Rogier van der Weyden. It was painted in oil on oak panels, with parts later transferred to canvas. It consists of fifteen paintings on nine panels; six are painted on both sides. It retains some of its original frames.[1]

Art Image

Altar of the Last Judgment: Angel

Art Image

Altar of the Last Judgment: Paradise

Six outer panels (or shutters) are hinged; when folded they show an exterior view of saints and the donors. The inner panels contain scenes from the Last Judgement arranged across two registers. The large central panel that spans both registers shows Christ seated on a rainbow in judgment, with his feet resting on a golden globe. Below him the Archangel Michael holds scales as he weighs souls. The panel on Christ's far right shows the gates of Heaven, that to his far left the entrance to Hell. The panels of the lower register form a continuous landscape, with figures depicted moving from the central panel to their final destinations after receiving judgement.

The altarpiece was commissioned in 1443 for the Hospices de Beaune by Nicolas Rolin, Chancellor of the Duchy of Burgundy, and his wife Guigone de Salins, who is buried in front of the altarpiece's original location in the hospice.[2] It is one of van der Weyden's most ambitious works, equal to his Prado Deposition and lost Justice of Trajan and Herkinbald.[3] It remains in the hospice today, although not in its original position. It is in poor condition and was moved in the 20th century to shield it from sunlight and better protect it from the almost 300,000 visitors it receives annually.[2] It has suffered from extensive paint loss, the wearing and darkening of its colours, and an accumulation of dirt. In addition, a heavy layer of over-paint was applied during restoration. The two painted sides of the outer panels have been separated so both can be shown simultaneously; traditionally, the shutters would have been opened only on selected Sundays or church holidays.

Commission and hospice

Nicolas Rolin was appointed Chancellor of Burgundy by Philip the Good in 1422, a position he held for the next 33 years.[4] His tenure with the duke made him a wealthy man, and he donated a large portion of his fortune for the foundation of the Hôtel-Dieu in Beaune.[5] It is not known why he decided to build in Beaune rather than in his birthplace of Autun. He may have chosen Beaune because it lacked a hospital and an outbreak of the plague decimated the population between 1438 and 1440.[6] Furthermore, when in 1435 the Treaty of Arras failed to bring a cessation to the longstanding hostility and animosity between Burgundy and France, the town suffered brutal ravages and famine from écorcheurs (marauding bands) who roamed the countryside during the late 1430s and early 1440s.[7] The hospice was built after Rolin gained permission from Pope Eugene IV in 1441,[8] and it was eventually consecrated on 31 December 1452. In conjunction, Rolin established the religious order of "Les sœurs hospitalières de Beaune".[6] Rolin dedicated the hospice to St Anthony Abbot, who was commonly associated with sickness and healing during the Middle Ages.[9]
Courtyard of the Hôtel-Dieu

In the hospice's founding charter, signed in August 1443, Rolin wrote that "disregarding all human concerns and in the interest of my salvation, desiring by a favourable trade to exchange for celestial goods temporal ones, that I might from divine goodness render those goods which are perishable for ones which are eternal ... in gratitude for the goods which the Lord, source of all wealth, has heaped upon me, from now on and for always, I found a hospital."[10][11] In the late 1450s, only a few years before he died, he added a provision to the hospital charter stipulating that the Mass for the Dead be offered twice daily.[12] Rolin's wife, Guigone de Salins,[A] played a major role in the foundation, as probably did his nephew Jan Rolin. De Salins lived and served at the hospice until her own death in 1470.[4]

Documents regarding the artwork's commissioning survive and, unusually for a Netherlandish altarpiece, the artist, patron, place of installation and date of completion are all known.[8] It was intended as the centrepiece for the chapel,[1] and Rolin approached van der Weyden around 1443, when the hospital was founded. The altarpiece was ready by 1451, the year the chapel was consecrated.[8] Painted in van der Weyden's Brussels workshop – most likely with the aid of apprentices – the completed panels were then transported to the hospice.[13] The altarpiece is first mentioned in a 1501 inventory, when it was positioned on the high altar.[1]
Patients of the Hotel-Dieu in their Beds, folio 77, 1482, Livre de vie active, by Jehan Henry, shows nurses attending the dying in a Paris hospital. Patients are two to a bed, except for a dying woman.[14]

The polyptych was commissioned to provide both comfort and warning to the dying.[15] It was intended to remind them of their faith, and direct their last thoughts towards the divine. This is evident in its positioning in the chapel, within view of the patients' beds.[14] Rolin specified that 30 beds be placed within sight of the altarpiece for those too ill to walk,[16] where it was visible to them through a pierced screen.[17] There were usually only two patients per bed, luxurious at a time when six to fifteen in a large bed was more common.[14] Medical care was expensive and primitive in the 15th century; the spiritual care of patients was as important as the treatment of physical ailments.[15]

Saints Sebastian and Anthony represent healing. Both were associated with bubonic plague, and intended to reassure the dying as intercessors with the divine.[14] St Michael developed a cult following in 15th-century France, most likely because he was thought to have appeared to Joan of Arc. He was seen as a guardian of the dead, a crucial role given the disasters wrought by plague in the region. There was a severe outbreak in 1441–42, just before Rolin founded the hospital. Pilgrimage to Mont Saint-Michel, Normandy reached a peak around this time. According to Barbara Lane, patients were unlikely to survive their stay, yet St Michael offered consolation as they could "gaze on his figure immediately above the altar of the chapel every time the altarpiece was opened. Like Saints Anthony and Sebastian on the exterior of the polyptych, the archangel offered ... hope that they would overcome their physical ills."[18]
Description

The altarpiece comprises fifteen separate paintings placed on nine panels. Six are painted on both sides.[1] When the outer wings are folded in, or, the paintings on the two upper and four lower panels become visible. The upper panels contain paintings on either side and are separately hinged and able to close independently of the others. When all the shutters are opened, the viewer is exposed to the expansive "Last Judgement" interior panels.[19] These document the possible spiritual fates of the viewers: that they might reach Heaven or Hell, salvation or damnation; stark alternatives appropriate for a hospice. The exterior panels serve as a funerary monument for the donors. Art historian Lynn Jacobs believes that the "dual function of the work accounts for the choice of the theme of the Last Judgement on its interior".[20]

The work clearly distinguishes between figures of the divine, earthly and hellish realms.[21] Perhaps following Jan van Eyck's c. 1432 Ghent Altarpiece, the polyptych wings form an inverted T-shape. When the shutters are closed the panels resemble an upside-down cross, a form common in 15th-century carved retables:[22] an elevated central panel allowed additional space for a narrative scene, to depict a heavenly vista, a single large figure, or a crucifixion with space for the cross to extend above the other panels, an innovation seen in van der Weyden's Descent from the Cross. This shape echoes typical configuration of Gothic churches, where the naves often extended past the aisles into the apse or choir. The imagery of the outer panels is set in the earthly realm with the donors, and saints painted in grisaille to imitate sculpture.[23]
Inner panels
Van der Weyden disregarded division between panels; on the top left the apostle's robes flow onto the adjoining panel, on the bottom left a man is seemingly cut in two, and on the right the tip of angel's trumpet is visible.

According to Jacobs, the treatment of the panels as a whole with van der Weyden's "elimination of thresholds is quite remarkable and indeed astonishing in the history of the triptych."[24] As with his Braque Triptych, the background landscape extends across each panel of the lower register.[25] The celestial sphere, towards which the saved move, is dramatically presented with a "radiant gold background, spanning almost the entire width of the altarpiece".[26]

Motifs and arrangements of figures extend along the lower panels from one to the next,[21] to the extent that the separations between panels are ignored with the intersections cutting figures in two.[25] This is particularly evident on the lower register where each panel division intersects figures, so that parts of figures are painted on two adjoining panels;[24] whereas Christ and St Michael are enclosed within the single central panel, giving emphasis to the iconography.[27]

The lower register presents Earth, with its exits to Heaven and Hell. The imposing figure of Christ above indicates the "reign of heaven is about to begin."[28] The distinction between the earthly and heavenly realms creates a sense of order. Christ, raised high above the altarpiece, "exudes calm and control", and creates a sense of balance and movement throughout the other panels.[29]
Gislebertus's Last Judgement, west tympanum of Autun Cathedral, 12th century

The manner with which van der Weyden presents the resurrection of the dead across the five lower panels is reminiscent of a Gothic tympanum, specifically that at Autun Cathedral. Rolin would have been familiar with the Autun Cathedral entrances, which may have motivated his decision to commission a Last Judgement for the hospice from van der Weyden.[29]

Rolin was aware of the liturgy associated with the Mass for the Dead, and would have known Last Judgement scenes associated with the Mass from 15th-century illuminated manuscripts, such as the full-page Last Judgement in the Hours of Catherine of Cleves which shows Christ placed in a similar position, sitting above as the dead rise from the ground.[30]
Upper register
Jesus Christ and the Archangel Michael in judgement. The blessed are to their right, the condemned to their left.

Jesus sits in judgement in the upper centre panel. He holds a lily in his right hand and a sword in his left, and sits on a rainbow extending across two panels, while his feet rest on a sphere. His right hand is raised in the act of blessing, his left hand lowered. These positions indicate the act of judgement; he is deciding if souls are to be sent to Heaven or Hell,[31] his gestures echoing the direction and positioning of the scales held by the Archangel Michael beneath him. His palms are open, revealing the wounds sustained when they were nailed to the cross, while his cope gapes in places making visible the injury caused by the lance, which pours deep-red blood.[32] Christ's face is identical to the representation in van der Weyden's Braque Triptych, completed just a few years later in 1452.[33] Christ, placed so high in the pictorial space and spanning both registers, orchestrates the entirety of the inner panels. Whereas earlier Last Judgements might have seemed chaotic, here Christ brings a sense of order.[29]

The two upper register wings on either side of Jesus show a pair of angels holding the instruments of the Passion.[2] These include a lance, crown of thorns and a stick with a sponge soaked in vinegar. The angels are dressed in white liturgical vestments.[32]

Angels holding symbols of the Passion

Deësis to Christ's left

Two angels carrying the pillar on which Christ was scourged

The Archangel Michael, the embodiment and conduit of divine justice, is positioned directly below Christ, the only figure to reach both Heaven and Earth. He wears a dispassionate expression as he holds a set of scales to weigh souls. Unusually for Christian art, the damned outweigh the blessed; Michael's scales have only one soul in each pan, yet the left pan tips below the right. Michael is given unusual prominence in a "Last Judgement" for the period, and his powerful presence emphasises the work's function in a hospice and its preoccupation with the liturgy of death. His feet are positioned as if he is stepping forward, almost about to move out of the canvas and he looks directly at the viewer, giving the illusion of judging not only the souls in the painting but also the viewers.[26] Michael, like Sebastian and Anthony, was a plague saint and would have been visible to inmates through the openings of the pierced screen as they lay in their beds.[34] Michael is painted with iconographic elements associated with paintings of the Last Judgement,[20] and is by far the most beautifully and colourfully painted figure; he is dressed in a red cope with woven golden fabrics over a shining white alb, which dominates the lower panels, "hypnotically attracting the viewer's glance" according to Lane. He is surrounded by four cherubs, playing trumpets to call the dead to their final destination.[35] Michael's role in the Last Judgement is emphasised through van der Weyden's use of colour: Michael's gleaming white alb contrasts with the cherub's red vestments, set against a blue sky directly below heaven's golden clouds.[36]

Beneath Michael, souls scurry left and right. The saved walk in single file towards the gates of Heaven where they are greeted by a saint; the damned arrive at the mouth of Hell and fall en masse headlong into damnation.[29] The souls balanced in the scales are naked. The blessed look towards Christ, the banished look downwards. Both groups are tilted in the direction of Christ's hands.[B] Reinforcing this, inscriptions around the groupings read VIRTUTES (Virtues) and PECCATA (sins).[37]
Lower register

The Virgin Mary, John the Baptist, the twelve Apostles and an assortment of dignitaries are positioned at either side of Michael in a Deësis. The apostles are seated in a semicircle; Peter, dressed in red, is on the far left, and Paul, dressed in green, is on the far right. The seven haloed dignitaries, dressed in contemporary clothing, are unidentified but include a king, a pope, a bishop, a monk, and three women. Rather than general representative types, they are portraits of specific unidentified individuals, according to Shirley Blum.[38]
The damned walk towards Hell
The damned before their fall
The damned, crowded together, fall into Hell

The dead rise from their graves around Michael's feet; some emerge to walk towards Heaven, others towards Hell. They are tiny compared to Christ and the saints. Lorne Campbell notes that these panels display a deeply pessimistic view of humanity, with the damned far outnumbering the saved,[37] especially compared to Stefan Lochner's Cologne panel, where the saved crowd the entrance to Heaven.[35] The dead undergo a gradual transformation as they move from panel to panel. The souls rising at Michael's feet show little expression, becoming more animated as they move to either side; horror and desperation become especially visible on the faces of the damned as they move towards Hell.[39] On the left, the saved all have, according to Jacobs, "the same beatific expressions", but their postures gradually change from facing Christ and Michael to looking towards Heaven's gate, notably with the couple below Mary – the man turns the woman's gaze away from Michael, towards Heaven.[39] This contrasts with another couple on the opposite panel who face Hell; the woman is hunched over as the man raises his hand in vain to beseech God for mercy.[40]
Entrance to Heaven

Heaven is represented by an entrance to the Heavenly City, which is in a contemporary Gothic style illuminated by long, thin rays of light. The saved approach clasping their hands in prayer, and are greeted at the entrance by an angel.[37] Only a few souls pass through the heavenly gates at a time.[35] The imagery of a church as an earthly representation of Heaven was popularised in the 13th century by theologians such as Durandus;[41] the gate to Heaven in this work resembles the entrance to the Beaune hospice.[42] The way to Heaven is shown clearly as a gilded church – the saved ascend a set of steps, turn right, and disappear from sight.[43] It is fully enclosed in a single panel, whereas Hell extends onto the adjoining panel, perhaps hinting that sin contaminates all around it.[44]

Van der Weyden depicts Hell as a gloomy, crowded place of both close and distant fires, and steep rock faces. The damned tumble helplessly into it, screaming and crying. The sinners descend into Hell with heads mostly bowed, dragging each other along as they go.[36] Traditionally, a Last Judgement painting would depict the damned tormented by malevolent spirits; yet here the souls are left alone, the only evidence that they are tormented is in their expressions.[37] The hellscape is painted so as to instil terror, but without devils.[45] Erwin Panofsky was the first to pick up on this absence, and proposed that van der Weyden had opted to convey torment in an inward manner, rather than through elaborate descriptions of devils and fiends. He wrote, "The fate of each human being ... inevitably follows from his own past, and the absence of any outside instigator of evil makes us realize that the chief torture of the Damned is not so much physical pain as a perpetual and intolerably sharpened consciousness of their state".[46] According to Bernhard Ridderbos, van der Weyden accentuated the theme by "restricting the number of the dead and treating them almost as individuals. As the damned approach the abyss of hell they become more and more compressed."[36]
Exterior panels
Detail showing Saints Sebastian and Anthony

The exterior consists of the two donor wings, a pair of saints, and two panels with Gabriel presenting himself to Mary. The donors are on the outer wings, kneeling in front of prayer books. Four imitation statues in grisaille make up the inner panels. The lower two depict Saint Sebastian and Saint Anthony.[47] Sebastian was the saint of plagues and an intercessory against epidemics, Anthony the patron saint of skin diseases and ergotism, known in medieval times as St Anthony's Fire.[48] The two saints had strong associations with the Burgundian court as well: Philip the Good was born on St Anthony's day, he had an illegitimate son named Anthony, and two of Rolin's sons were named Anthony. St Sebastian was the patron saint of Philip the Good's chivalric Order of the Golden Fleece, of which Rolin was a member.[49]

The two small upper register panels show a rather traditional Annunciation scene, with the usual dove representing the Holy Spirit near Mary.[1] The two sets of panels, unlike those on the interior, are compositionally very different. The figures occupy distinctly separate niches and the colour schemes of the grisaille saints and donors contrast sharply.[20]

Like many mid-15th century polyptychs, the exterior panels borrow heavily from the Ghent Altarpiece, which was completed in 1432. The combination of naturalistic donor portraits with grisaille imitation statues of saints is borrowed from that work, as is the treatment of the Annunciation.[47] Van der Weyden used iconography in the Beaune exterior panels not found in his other works, which suggests Rolin may have commissioned the altarpiece to follow van Eyck's example.[19] Van der Weyden was not inclined merely to imitate though, and arranged the panels and figures in a concentrated and compact format.[47] Jacobs writes that "the exterior presents the most consistent pictorial rendering of trompe l'oeil sculpture to date". Gabriel's scroll and Mary's lily appear to be made of stone; the figures cast shadows against the back of their niches, creating a sense of depth which adds to the illusion.[20]
Detail of Nicolas Rolin in prayer, wearing fur-lined black robes

The exterior panels are drab, according to Blum, who writes that on Rolin's panel the most colourful figure is the red angel, which, with its gold helmet and keys, "emerges like an apparition".[19] Rolin and de Salins can be identified by the coats-of-arms held by the angels;[1] husband and wife kneel at cloth-covered prie-dieux (portable altars) displaying their emblems. Although De Salins was reputedly pious and charitable, and even perhaps the impetus for the building of the hospice, she is placed on the exterior right,[19] traditionally thought of as an inferior position corresponding to Hell, linking her to Eve, original sin and the Fall of man.[44]
Detail of Guigone de Salins, who was buried in front of the altarpiece's original location in the hospice

Van Eyck had earlier portrayed Rolin in the c. 1435 Madonna of Chancellor Rolin, and the patron is recognizable from that work; both portraits show similar lips, a large chin and somewhat pointed ears. In van Eyck's portrait, Rolin is presented as perhaps pompous and arrogant; here – ten years later – he appears more thoughtful and concerned with humility.[50][51] Campbell notes wryly that van der Weyden may have been able to disguise the sitter's ugliness and age, and that the unusual shape of his mouth may have been downplayed. He writes that while "van Eyck impassively recorded, van der Weyden imposed a stylised and highly personal vision of the subject". Van Eyck's depiction was most likely the more accurate; van der Weyden embellished, mainly by lengthening the nose, enlarging the eyes and raising the eyebrows.[50]
Inscriptions

The panels contain quotations in Latin from several biblical texts. They appear either as lettering seemingly sewn into the edges of the figures' clothes (mostly hidden in the folds), or directly on the surface of the central inner panel.[52] The latter occur in four instances; two pairs of text float on either side of Christ, two around Michael. Beneath the lily, in white paint[36] are the words of Christ: VENITE BENEDICTI PATRIS MEI POSSIDETE PARATUM VOBIS REGNUM A CONSTITUTIONE MUNDI ("Come ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world"). The text beneath the sword reads: DISCEDITE A ME MALEDICTI IN IGNEM ÆTERNUM QUI PARATUS EST DIABOLO ET ANGELIS EJUS ("Depart from me ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels").[C]

The inscriptions follow the 14th-century convention of showing figures, imagery and motifs associated with the saved to Christ's right, and those of the damned to his left. The words beneath the lily (the benedicti) read upwards towards Heaven, their curves leaning in towards Christ. The text to the left (the maledicti) flows in the opposite direction; from the highest point downwards. The inscriptions to Christ's right are decorated in light colours, to the extent that they are usually difficult to discern in reproductions. The lettering opposite faces downwards, and is applied with black paint.[53]
Condition

A number of panels are in poor condition, owing variously to darkening of the colours, accumulated dirt, and poor decisions during early restorations.[54] The altarpiece stayed in the chapel from the time of its installation until the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution, when it was hidden in the attic for decades. When it was brought out, the nude souls – thought to be offensive – were painted over with clothing and flames; it was moved to a different room, hung 3 metres (10 ft) from the ground, and portions were whitewashed. In 1836, the Commission of Antiquities retrieved it and began plans to have it restored.[55] Four decades later it underwent major restoration – between 1875 and 1878 – when many of these additions were removed, but not without significant damage to the original paintwork,[54] such as the loss of pigment to the wall-hangings in the donor panels, which were originally red and gold.[56] In general, the central inside panels are better preserved than the interior and exterior wings.[54] De Salins' panel is damaged; its colours have darkened with age; originally the niche was a light blue (today it is light green) and the shield held by the angel was painted in blue.[54]

The panels were laterally divided so that both sides could be displayed simultaneously,[1] and a number of the panels were transferred to canvas.[55]
Sources and influences
Stefan Lochner, Last Judgement, c. 1435. Wallraf-Richartz Museum, Cologne

Since before 1000 the Last Judgement had been developing as a complex subject in art, and from the 11th century became a very common subject as a wall-painting in churches, typically placed over the main door in the west wall, where it would be seen by worshippers as they left the building.[57] Elements of the image had gradually been added, with Saint Michael weighing the souls a late arrival, first seen in 12th-century Italy. Since it has no biblical basis it is often thought to draw from pre-Christian parallels, such as depictions of Anubis performing a similar role in Ancient Egyptian art.[58] In medieval English a wall-painting of the Last Judgement was called a doom.[59]

Van der Weyden may have drawn influence from Stefan Lochner's c. 1435 Last Judgement, and a similar c. 1420 painting now in the Hotel de Ville, Diest, Belgium. Points of reference include Christ raised over a Great Deësis of saints, apostles and clergy above depictions of the entrance to Heaven and the gates of Hell. In both earlier works Christ perches on a rainbow; in the Deësis panel he also is above a globe. While these two earlier works are filled with dread and chaos, van der Weyden's panels display the same sorrowful, but self-controlled dignity of his best works. This is most evident in the manner in which the oversized and dispassionate Christ orchestrates the scene from Heaven.[60]

The work's moralising tone is apparent from some of its more overtly dark iconography, its choice of saints, and how the scales tilt far lower beneath the weight of the damned than the saved. The damned to Christ's left are more numerous and less detailed than the saved to his right. In these ways it can be compared to Matthias Grünewald's Isenheim Altarpiece, which served much the same purpose, having been commissioned for the Monastery of St. Anthony in Isenheim, which cared for the dying.[14]
Hans Memling, Last Judgement, late 1460s, National Museum, Gdańsk

The similarities between the altarpiece and the c. late 1460s Last Judgement by van der Weyden's apprentice Hans Memling has led art historians to suggest a common tie, Florentine banker Angelo Tani, gave commissions to van der Weyden before his death in 1464. Because Memling's apprenticeship post-dated the completion and installation of the altarpiece, art historians speculate that Tani or Memling would have seen it in situ, or that Memling came into possession of a workshop design.[61] Two additional works with similar depictions of Christ – a Martin Schongauer at the Louvre dated c. 1469 and another in Germany from about 1493 – suggest the existence of the input of members of his workshop.[62] In Memling's work the Deësis and Christ's placement, above St Michael with his scales, are almost identical to the Beaune Altarpiece.[35] Despite the marked similarities, the crowded scenes in Memling's Last Judgement contrast sharply with "the hushed serenity of Rogier's composition," according to Lane,[35] and in a mirror image of van der Weyden's altarpiece, Memling shows the saved outweighing the damned in St Michael's scales.[61]
References
Notes

Scholars are unsure where she was Rolin's second or third wife. See Lane (1989), 169
Technical analysis shows that the scales were at first tilted in the opposite direction.

Both inscriptions quote from Jesus' discourse on The Sheep and the Goats (Matthew 25), see Ridderbos et al. (2005), 35

Citations

Campbell (2004), 74
Campbell (2004), 78
Campbell (2004), 26
Smith (1981), 276
Vaughan (2012), 169
Blum (1969), 37
Vaughan (2012), 94
Lane (1989), 167
Hayum (1977), 508
Smith (2004), 91
Lane (1989), 168
Lane (1989), 169
Jacobs (1991), 60; Lane (1989), 167
Lane (1989), 170
Lane (1989), 171–72
Hayum (1977), 505
Lane (1989), 177–8
Lane (1989), 180
Blum (1969), 39
Jacobs (2011), 112
Jacobs (1991), 60–61
Jacobs (1991), 33–35
Jacobs (1991), 36–37
Jacobs (2011), 98
Jacobs (2011), 97
Lane (1989), 177
Blum (1969), 43
Jacobs (2011), 60
Lane (1989), 172
Lane (1989), 176–77
Upton (1989), 39
McNamee (1998), 181
Blum (1969), 30
Lane (1989), 178
Lane (1991), 627
Ridderbos et al. (2005), 35
Campbell (2004), 81
Blum (1969), 42
Jacobs (1991), 98–9
Jacobs (2011), 114
Jacobs (1991), 47
Blum (1969), 46
Jacobs (2011), 115
Jacobs (1991), 100
Drees (2000), 501
Panofsky (1953), 270
Campbell (2004), 21
Lane (1989), 170–71
Blum (1969), 40–41
Campbell (2004), 22
Smith (1981), 273
Acres (2000), 86–7
Acres (2000), 87
Campbell (2004), 77
Ridderbos et al., (2005), 31
Campell (1972), 291
Hall (1983), 138–143
Hall (1983), 6–9
OED "Doom", 6
Lane (1989), 171
Lane (1991), 629

Lane (1991), 628

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Campbell, Lorne. Van der Weyden. London: Chaucer Press, 2004. ISBN 1-904449-24-7
Campbell, Lorne. "Early Netherlandish Triptychs: A Study in Patronage by Shirley Neilsen Blum" (review). Speculum, Volume 47, No. 2, 1972
Drees, Clayton. The Late Medieval Age of Crisis and Renewal, 1300–1500. Westport CT: Greenwood, 2000. ISBN 0-313-30588-9
Hall, James. A History of Ideas and Images in Italian Art. London: John Murray, 1983. ISBN 0-7195-3971-4
Hayum, Andrée. "The Meaning and Function of the Isenheim Altarpiece: The Hospital Context Revisited". Art Bulletin, Volume 59, No. 4, 1977
Jacobs, Lynn. Opening Doors: The Early Netherlandish Triptych Reinterpreted. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011. ISBN 0-271-04840-9
Jacobs, Lynn. "The Inverted "T"-Shape in Early Netherlandish Altarpieces: Studies in the Relation between Painting and Sculpture". Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, Volume 54, No. 1, 1991
Lane, Barbara. "Requiem aeternam dona eis: The Beaune Last Judgment and the Mass of the Dead". Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art, Volume 19, No. 3, 1989
Lane, Barbara. "The Patron and the Pirate: The Mystery of Memling's Gdańsk Last Judgment". The Art Bulletin, Volume 73, No. 4, 1991
McNamee, Maurice. Vested Angels: Eucharistic Allusions in Early Netherlandish paintings. Leuven: Peeters Publishers, 1998. ISBN 90-429-0007-5
Panofsky, Erwin. Early Netherlandish Painting: Its Origins and Character. New York: Harper & Row, 1953
Ridderbos, Bernhard; Van Buren, Anne; Van Veen, Henk. Early Netherlandish Paintings: Rediscovery, Reception and Research. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2005. ISBN 0-89236-816-0
Smith, Jeffrey Chipps. The Northern Renaissance. London: Phaidon Press, 2004. ISBN 0-7148-3867-5
Smith, Molly Teasdale. "On the Donor of Jan van Eyck's Rolin Madonna". Gesta, Volume 20, No. 1, 1981
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Artist, Netherlands

Hellenica World - Scientific Library