ENIGMAS FOR ENTHUSIASTS & PILGRIMS:
Interpreting Hieronymus Bosch’s Strange Orthodox Christian World.
Iain McKillop
Hieronymus Bosch [c1450-1516] belongs to the generation of inventive Flemish artists after Robert Campin [1375 - 1444], Jan van Eyck [1370-1441], Dieric Bouts [1415-1475] and Rogier van der Weyden [1400-1464]. He was roughly contemporary with Hans Memling [1430-1494], Hugo van der Goes [1440-1482] and Gerard David, [1460-1523]. He flourished long before his artistic heirs Pieter Bruegel the Elder [1526-1569], a century before Pieter Brueghel the Younger [1564-1638]. Bosch worked for a distinctly Roman Catholic audience, but, as with his German contemporary Albrecht Dürer [1471-1528], (who he may have met,) religious and social reform was in the air, being explored in new spirituality movements as well as apocalyptic visions, images that called for moral behaviour and changes in social, personal and religious priorities. Bosch was almost exactly contemporary with Leonardo da Vinci [1452-1519] and Botticelli [1446-1510] but from a very different cultural background, with different artistic and theological aims.
The strange creatures, distorted human features and licentious activities in many of the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch have led some to consider that he had unorthodox spiritual beliefs or practices, was influenced by sects that were regarded as heretical by the Catholic Church or indulged in licentious behaviour himself. Although the documented facts of Bosch’s life are few, such suppositions seem to be far from the case. He, his art and his workshop flourished in a period and culture when license or heresy were exposed, rooted out and severely punished. He lived in a close-knit, religiously committed community, where any unorthodox behaviour would have been scrutinised. His art was admired and sought-after by
noble collectors with strong religious beliefs and convictions. He also became a distinguished member of a religious confraternity which commissioned art from him and would have rejected any beliefs, activities or work which did not conform to their ideas of strict Christian observance.
One unfortunate impression that one receives from studying his work is that Bosch may have enjoyed creating the hybrid monsters and wild flights of his apocalyptic imagination more than sober religious images. This does not quite conform to the theological or devotional intention or spiritual seriousness of moral paintings. Being entertained by his strange scenes of wild behaviour and grotesque creatures may also have been a secondary motive behind collectors who prized and sought out his work, like the Spanish royal family. It is a strange contradiction that subjects that are designed to morally challenge can also be so enticing to the senses and the imagination. However, there is another possible interpretation. In Bosch’s time it was believed that folly and sin were universal failings in humankind. Spirits tempting one to sin were considered to lurk everywhere; judgement and condemnation by God was believed to be the inevitable final destiny of the majority of humankind. If Bosch, as a devout member of his Christian brotherhood believed this, he was forming visualisations, however strange, of common, contemporary Christian beliefs about the future of most of humankind. Grotesque figures like those invented by his imagination were common in the marginal of mediaeval manuscripts; Bosch elevated them to become major protagonists in his panel paintings. The more otherworldly the creatures tempting or torturing people in his paintings might appear, the more the viewers of his work might be encouraged to resist temptations. Images like The Garden of Earthly Delights are beautiful and enticing, but this was not Neo-Platonic Italy, where beauty was considered to reflect inner spiritual purity. The mediaeval mind, still prevalent in Bosch’s culture, was suspicious that material beauty was manipulated by evil spirits to allure one away from correct, Christian, spiritual priorities.
Most rational believers today would regard Bosch’s representation of demons and the fallen world as superstitious, wildly imaginative and unrealistic. But in his time he would have been considered to be representing the world as it really was beneath the surface, tempted to sin, behaving badly, often succeeding in its attempts to hide its folly and facing judgement. One contemporary Spanish apologist and commentator, Fray José de Siguença, wrote in defence of his work after Bosch’s death, at a time when the Church was questioning such art: “others try to paint man as he appears on the outside, while he alone had the audacity to paint man as he is on the inside.” Bosch’s paintings were holding up a mirror to a world and displaying its distortions. Rational modern Christianity rightly attributes more of the evils in our world to human falseness, self-centred behaviour and hardening of conscience rather than to the influence of demons and invisible powers of evil permeating creation. But that was the worldview that was considered orthodox, of the Catholic Church to which Bosch and the majority of his patrons were committed. It was similarly part of the worldview of contemporary calls for spiritual revival and reform, like the Brotherhood of the Common Life with its practice of Devotio Moderna and The Imitation of Christ. This community had two houses in Bosch’s hometown. The Protestant Reformation which was beginning to emerge in Northern Europe was developing a call for a similar change in priorities and practices. So, although Bosch’s images seem so strange to modern eyes and their representation of Christian belief appears unusual, they were actually attempting to visualise the spiritual world as believers considered it to be.
Today we might imagine and interpret the psychological and spiritual problems of the world differently and more rationally. Yet Bosch’s work is still relevant, because he was not afraid of using his art to point out to all - commoners nobility and clerics issues of moral decay, wrong activity and religious corruption in his times. We often prefer art to be less didactic, to elevate or question in more subtle ways, but modern art principles also encourage art to challenge, not just by intellectual ideas and aesthetics. There is much that is wrong in the contemporary world and contemporary religion, which is not too different or distant from the society which Bosch’s images challenged.
BIOGRAPHY
Bosch is mentioned in about 50 surviving official documents over a period of about 42 years. But these contain no diaries, letters, personal reflections or personal theories on art. The most fruitful records are the account books of the Brotherhood of Our Lady, to which he belonged, but they give no details about his birth, character or life, merely record commissions, feasts which he attended or financed, etc. It is similarly difficult to certainly date his pictures, except to suppose a vague stylistic development. None are dated or personally signed, and many have been heavily restored, copied, or overpainted in ways that make it impossible to restore or re-imagine the original subtleties of style beneath. The works that do bear a signature are probably copies, works in his style, or not signed by him personally..
‘Hieronymus Bosch’ is only the name by which the painter came to be known, through linking his Christian name to the town where he was born and worked. His family name was ‘van Aken’. His proper full name was ‘Jheronimus Anthoniszoon van Aken’. From several documents we know that his family and fellow citizens shortened this name to ‘Joen’ or ‘Jeroen’.
Bosch has been calculated to have been born c1450-55, according to lease-payment documents, which he witnessed in 1474. In the Netherlands at that date, he must have been about 24 to be regarded as legally mature enough to give his official signature to a document.
His hometown was ’s-Hertogenbosch, locally known as ‘Den Bosch’, from which comes the other part of the painter’s common title. It was one of the four largest cities of Brabant, after Brussels, Antwerp and Lovain. Now in north Belgium, near the Dutch Border and Utrecht, it was then part of the territories of the dukes of Burgundy. The Netherlands was not divided into unified countries until much later in history. Some art-historians once suggested that the remoteness of his workplace from centres of artistic culture could account for the development of such a unique style and approach to subject matter. But ’s-Hertogenbosch was then an important commercial town, with strong trade connections with many cities in Northern Europe, and Italy. It may not have housed a noble court or bishop’s palace, but it had many well-educated middle class inhabitants who gained their wealth from commerce and it had connections through trade, education, religious houses and confraternities with many European cultural centres and noble families.
Archives make no mention of Bosch’s personal education, but it is presumed that he was educated at the city’s well-known Latin School, due to his background, later career, intellectual abilities, scholarly references in his work and his acceptance into the elite Brotherhood of Our Lady, which only accepted well-established members of society. The city also had a ‘Chamber of Rhetoric’' / ‘rederijker kamers’ which encouraged educated debate, the development of literature, and sponsored poetry and dramatic performances.
The city also thrived as a religious centre, with a large number of monasteries convents and Christian confraternities. It has been calculated that around the time that the artist died, one in every nineteen inhabitants of the city belonged to a religious order. This was not altogether popular with the other inhabitants, who were expected to support them financially and spiritually. There was hostility, criticism and some cynicism in the wider society, which may account for some satirical and sceptical jokes within Bosch’s images, referring to lack of integrity among some clerics and religious orders. (See, for example, the figures in the right foreground of The Haywain. The faith and the moral authority of the Catholic Church was nevertheless, still a feature of faith in the Netherlands. The commercial guilds of the city were all dedicated to a particular patron saint who was celebrated on feast-days. The whole city celebrated the major ecclesiastical feasts. So the power of the Church, especially the main church of the city Saint John / ‘Sint Jan’, was strong. The churches, particularly Saint John’s, were filled with artefacts from civic benefactors and patrons including the guilds, which swelled the sense of civic pride. Parallels have been drawn between the imaginative figures and monsters of Bosch’s painting s and the gargoyles, grotesques and monsters on Saint John’s church, but they were probably just influenced by similar superstitions.
Hieronymus started his painting career in the workshop of his father Anthonius van Aken, alongside other apprentices. Hieronymus was the 4th generation of the most respected painting workshop in the town. His family name suggests that they originated in Aachen. Bosch’s great-grandfather may have moved from Aachen to ’s-Hertogenbosch in 1404. Bosch’s grandfather Jan van Aken established himself in ’s-Hertogenbosch from Nijmegen in 1427; the first certain reference to him is in archives of 1430-1. He gained important commissions, including a mural in the City Church of St John. Four of Jan’s five sons became painters, of which Anthonius seems to have been the most successful, before the career of his own son Hieronymus. His family lived in the Market Place (now No. 29), which Hieronymus’ brother Goessen inherited after their father’s death in 1478, then left to his own son Jan in 1498.
In 1474 The Brotherhood of Our Lady, called on Anthonius’ advice over the commissioning of an altarpiece for their chapel in the city church, then in 1475-6 commissioned paintings for the altarpiece from the van Aken family and woodwork from the Utrecht wood-carver Adrien van Wesel. Sadly these have not been traced.
There is no mention of Hieronymus in the town archives from 1474-81. Some have suggested that he might have been travelling to gain experience, but he may just have been regarded as an employee in the workshop. It has been inferred that he may have visited Utrecht due to stylistic influences on his early work. His more mature style shows the influence of art from the southern Netherlands and Venice, which leads some commentators to believe that at some time he travelled south or even visited Italy. As there are also no records of him ever leaving his home-town, he may well simply have known these styles from seeing the work elsewhere, perhaps more locally, in the houses of collectors who commissioned his work, or in transit with the many Italian nobles, diplomats, merchants and traders who lived in and traded with the Netherlands.
c1480 Bosch married Aleyt Goijaert van der Meervenne of a prosperous merchant family. She was some years older than him, and brought the painter wealth and social stability. She had inherited several properties from her father around 1474, including her family house called ‘ ’t Root Cruys’ / ‘The Red Cross’.in the Schilderstrat, where they lived initially.
In 1481 Bosch sold his wife’s share in a country estate to his brother-in-law, then sold off a few other properties over the next 2 years. This gave them independence. & enabled them to set up an independent workshop in a 4 storey home in the Market Place into which they moved in 1483 - ‘In den Salvatoer ’/ ‘At the Sign of Our Saviour’. With outbuildings this gave the family a space of about 650 sq. m. They lived in relative prosperity; from records, we know that Bosch paid about nine times more tax than the average citizen..
1486-7 Bosch became a member of the Brotherhood of Our Lady. By 1488 when he became a member of the inner circle of the Brotherhood, he probably had reached the status of ‘master’ as a painter, though he is never referred to as anything but ‘painter’ in documents.
1504 Bosch was paid 36 Guilders for a Last Judgement triptych for Philip the Handsome, the Habsburg ruler living in Brussels. The total cost of the work came to 360 guilders, at a time when to buy a trading ship would cost between 30 & 150 Guilders. This commission probably brought the painter to the notice of other courtly patrons. We know that many courts of Europe sought works by him: Margaret of Austria owned a Temptation of St Anthony/ Isabella of Spain also owned work by him. His triptych of St Julia may have been commissioned for a northern Italian patron and his work became particularly popular in Spanish courts..
There is no record of the exact date of Bosch’s death, but his funeral and burial was held on 9th August 1516 with an elaborate Brotherhood Funeral Mass, the accounts for which survive. Generous payments were made from his estate to all involved: musician, assistants, celebrants and alms were given to each pauper present. (This was a common occurrence, but seems particularly relevant as ordinary peasants were such a feature of his art!) The Dominicans in Brussels also instituted Masses for Bosch himself after death, suggesting the spiritual value which was put upon him.
So Hieronymus Bosch was famous in Europe during his lifetime, in the Netherlands, Spain & Italy especially. Vasari mentions him despite referring to few Northern European painters. (He possibly only knew Bosch’s engravings.)
In the Brotherhood’s book of members Hieronymus is given the inscription: ‘seer vermaerd Schilder’ / ‘celebrated painter’. If there had been any doubts about the orthodoxy of his faith, he would not have become so promoted. He was copied, imitated and pastiched. Only towards the end of the 16th Century, with the rise of the Inquisition, suspicion and persecution of heresies and reform movements throughout Europe was there any suspicion or challenge to the orthodoxy of the religious content of his works. The Council of Trent published rules about what was appropriate in works of religious art and a few questioned whether some of his works were ‘tainted with heresy’. Other religious commentators and apologists rigorously defended Bosch’s paintings, particularly Fray Jose de Sigũenza in 1605, as mentioned in the introduction.
In his time, and afterwards Bosch was admired for his originality But tastes change and by the mid-17th Century the City Church of Saint John no longer liked the naked figures on his Creation picture. In 1671 the wings of the high altar were sold, and have disappeared. Sometime after 1626 his altarpiece in the Dominican friary in Brussels also disappeared. Some panels of the Brotherhood’s altar have been identified – John the Baptist in the Wilderness and John on Patmos, with a painting of the Pelican in its piety on the reverse, surrounded by scenes of Christ’s Passion in sepia. Many of his works may also have been destroyed in the enthusiastic iconoclasm of the Reformation. Thankfully, at the Spanish court, admiration for Bosch’s imaginative and detailed work continued, which accounts for the large number of works which were bought for the royal collections, and are now the pride of The Prado and L’Escorial. Of the many images that have been attributed to Bosch through history, modern research clearly identifies only about 24 works to him, including fragments.
STYLE
Bosch’s works are innovatory, particularly in the fantasy elements and strange creatures that he invented, but he was also strongly influenced by Southern Netherlands painters. In Spain he became associated with visions and nightmares in Spanish literature. It is interesting to speculate whether Goya’s later etchings and paintings of the horrors of war or witchcraft would have been created without that artist knowing Bosch’s work in the Spanish royal collection.
Like most artists of the time Bosch would have been expected to work in a number of media. In 1487 he painted a wall hanging for the ‘Geefhuis’ / ‘House of Giving’. He is recorded as renovating an antler-chandelier, originally painted by his grandfather. He also designed a stained glass window for the Brotherhood, made by Willem Lombart, and ceremonial shields for guild members. The Brotherhood also commissioned a ‘Cross’ /‘vanden cruce’ (1511-12), which some believe was a design for a cope, and a brass chandelier (1512-13). Through members of the Brotherhood he would have gained other commissions. He probably designed sets and costumes for the religious plays, tableaux and processions which the Brotherhood sponsored. Diego de Guevara joined the ‘s-Hertogenbosch Brotherhood in 1498-9. A member of the court of Philip the Handsome and well known to Spanish kings and the royal family, he was in a good position to negotiate commissions from Bosch.
Bosch seems to have worked on many ecclesiastical commissions in ’s-Hertogenbosch, both for the Brotherhood and the City Church with its 50 altars. An inventory by Jean-Baptiste Gramaye of 1610 records several altarpieces by him: -the main altar in the Upper Choir, dedicated to the Virgin and Saints Catherine and Barbara; a larger altar in the Brotherhood chapel, recording the six days of Creation, the legend of Abigail and scenes of David and Solomon; a smaller altarpiece of the Magi; and the altar of St Michael, with scenes of Judith ad Holofernes and the triumph of Esther and Mordechai.
Ugliness as a feature of some of Bosch’s work, emphasised the reality of mediaeval life. Like Grũnewald, he did not idealise, unlike Italian painting. We must recognise that many seemingly-grotesque human faces that he painted may not have been so unusual to the people of his day. There was far more malformation and distortion of features, due to the health-care of the time and neglect of the poor and needy.
Bosch used fairly conventional subject-matter and developed upon traditional iconography but treated it in an original way. He depicted the lives of popular saints from traditional texts of their lives, but he represented them unconventionally, often telling their stories in a lively way rather than making the image too quietly devotional.
In his grisaille images, like the life of St James the Greater on the wing of the Last Judgement Triptych, he does not imitate sculpture, unlike van Eyck, but just represents the narratives in monochromatic paint. Art imagery in religious art had multiplied in complexity through the 15th Century. This sparked debates in the church about the cult of images. As Europe moved towards Reformation, even Roman Catholic theologians were emphasising that saints should not be worshipped and their images should not be venerated but that saints should be taken as examples for Christians. Erasmus of Rotterdam’s Handbook of a Christian Knight emphasised that Christ should be the focus of worship, and Christian people should work to improve their lives by emulating those examples, not rely on veneration of images of saints. He called the cult of images ‘superstitious’ and ‘mindless’ in In Praise of Folly [1511]. Erasmus had satirised the idea that images of a powerfully built St. Christopher could protect people. This may have been an influence on Bosch’s painting of the saint [c1500] as a fairly ordinary bearded man, leaning for strength on his staff as he labours under the weight to carry an innocent, weak-looking devotional figure of the Christ-child. Only the tiny figure on the river-bank, of the hermit who converted St. Christopher, gives us a sense of the large scale of the subject..
Bosch’s images were not always innovatory. His painting of St. John on Patmos is derived from a popular etching by Martin Schongauer; his small Crucifixion was based on a larger work by his grandfather in the City Church. He also includes many contemporary references: He makes reference to Turkish details in the flag in Ecce Homo and on a persecutor in The Mocking of Christ. These are probably references to the Turkish occupiers of Palestine, which was seen as a growing threat to Christendom.
In composition Bosch arranged pictorial space to place emphasis on scenes, groups of people and different stories within his pictures, rather than making his space as realistic as those of Van Eyck or Van der Weyden. He retained a sense of perspective, but often exaggerated this and enlarged certain figures and scenes. He used a high horizon to increase the field in which he could show his figures and scenes. Technically his colours blend and colour schemes meld or gradate into each other. He must have worked into the paint while still wet, rather than building them up in layers as van Eyck or van der Weyden had done.
Natural landscape and vegetation in Bosch’s paintings are often more like imagined plants or late Gothic ornament rather than precise observation of nature, making the scenes seem more visionary than naturalistic. This may be to emphasise that the settings in the Middle East are exotic. However many of the animals, birds and insects are represented in extremely naturalistic detail, probably drawn from close observation. This is probably to demonstrate that he is representing the world as it truly is, not a world of fantasy.
Hybrid creatures and grotesques had been used before Bosch to characterise elements of evil. Bosch elaborated this tradition. The introduction to Horace’s Ars Poetica condemned monstrosities, as the Council of Trent and the Inquisition were to do. Yet popular beliefs of the time considered the invisible and spiritual world to be populated by creatures distorted by evil. It was believed that when the Rebel Angels fell from heaven their forms became deformed and ugly, generating the monsters which Bosch imagined.
THEOLOGY
The extant archival sources suggest that Bosch was fairly intellectually educated, and piously religious. His affiliations, like most of his patrons were from the Roman Catholic Church. We do not know details of any requirements placed upon Bosch by those who commissioned his work. It is therefore difficult to assess how much of the style and subject matter came from his imagination and how much was directed by his patrons. However the way that most subjects were interpreted the subjects implies that the works were commissioned and considered more from a moral perspective than as devotional pieces, or to promote theological education. This moral priority is similar to some of the European writings of the time, which Bosch may have known: Sebastian Brant’s ‘Ship if Fools’ [1494], Pico della Mirandola’s ‘Oration on the Dignity of Man’ [1486]. Henry Suso’s Horologium Sapientiae (Clock of Wisdom), Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ and Thomas a Kempis ‘The Imitation of Christ’.
The emphasis on strange, demons formed like hybrid monsters in Bosch’s iconography may be related to the emphasis on rooting out witchcraft, sorcery and heresy in the contemporary Church. Jacob Sprenger and Heinrich Kramer’s ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ / ‘The Hammer of Witchcraft’ first published in Nuremberg in 1494, described in detail the nature of witches, and how they could be recognised. It examined their involvement with the Devil and his cause, and listed the tests and punishments to be used. Thomas Aquinas had speculated that witches and sorcerers were the first progeny of the Fallen Angels breeding with the daughters of men to form giants, as in the legend of Gen.6:1-6. The evil-spiritual monsters of the mediaeval imagination were further engendered by such superstitions.
After Bosch’s death the Council of Trent [1545-63] explicitly condemned the over-imaginative excesses of some religious pictures from this time as did several Reformation leaders. Yet Catholic kings in Spain particularly continued to love them and the contemporary Spanish apologist Fray José de Siguença used this as a proof that there was no suspicion of heresy about them, since it was believed that the king was appointed and guided by God. De Siguença’s astute observation, referred to previously, that “others try to paint man as he appears on the outside; while he alone had the audacity to paint man) as he is on the inside.” is particularly useful in a modern interpretation of Bosch’s work. In the Brotherhood’s book of members his inscription: ‘seer vermaerd Schilder’ / ‘celebrated painter’ helps to confirm that if there had been any doubts about the orthodoxy of his faith, he would not have become so well-known, so promoted by religious bodies, or so popular among his contemporaries. He was widely copied, imitated and pastiched, which few would have dared to do of an artist suspected of being unorthodox or heretical. Such was the power and infiltration of the Inquisition at the time that he would have been prevented from working and patrons who bought his works would have been prosecuted. There was regular debate about the purpose, use and abuse of images by the Inquisition, the Council of Trent and other religious bodies at the time, and he was widely known, so if his work have been in any way regarded as problematic, it would have been rejected or more likely destroyed. High-ranking collectors would have avoided him and not competed for his works as leading collectors and princely courts did. None of these difficulties appear to have occurred, so it is likely that he was considered ‘safe’ and of spiritual value at the time. Devout people probably used his pictures to examine their consciences, as well as being entertained by the invention and imagination in his images.
About the year 1560, the commentator Felipe de Guevara justified Bosch’s work “he painted strange figures, but he did so only because he wanted to portray scenes of Hell and for that subject matter it was necessary to depict devils and imagine them in unnatural compositions…. He paid as much attention to propriety and always assiduously stayed within the limits of naturalness as much as, and even more so, than any fellow artist.” This emphasis on ‘naturalness’ may be rather exaggerated in order to justify the work to the royal court for whom Guevara was writing, or to the Inquisition.
Some critics and commentators, particularly Fräenger, have tried to identify the sexual scenes in some of Bosch’s images with the ‘Brethren of the Free Spirit’ or ‘Adamites’, whose unorthodox mystical teachings, they suggest, are reflected in his themes and subjects. The Brethren of the Free Spirit were not a single movement, and had varied beliefs, doctrines, ideas and practices, but were condemned as an heretical movement by the Catholic Church at the Council of Vienne between 1311–12 in a bull ‘Ad nostrum’. Some of them advocated a return to the innocent condition of Adam, lack of shame in nudity and sexual freedom. Several more orthodox groups shared similar, though more ethical ideas about spiritual freedom, including Meister Eckhart, the Beguines, Beghards and Marguerite Porete. Other commentators also link Bosch to esoteric circles, like the Cathars, astrology, alchemy and psychedelic visions. Yet when you remove from consideration the works once dubiously attributed to Bosch but now doubted, you find that the majority of his paintings follow traditional Christian motifs, even if his approach is innovatory. If he had been associated by contemporaries with ‘dubious’ groups who were suspected of heresies, Bosch would not have received the commissions or been collected by several of the collectors who admired his work, including Catholic princes and nobles and Cardinal Domenico Grimany, in whose Italian place hung the pictures of the Inferno and Jonah and the Whale in 1521. Bosch’s Ecce Homo seems to have a patron in Dominica robes in the foreground. Certainly the Brotherhood of Our Lady were closely associated with the Dominicans in ’s-Hertogenbosch. As the Dominicans were particularly rigorous about discerning and rooting-out heresy, it is very unlikely that they would have had anything to do with Bosch if there was any worry about his works containing unorthodox beliefs. Similarly Philipp II of Spain was rigorous in his Catholicism, yet collected some of Bosch’s most challenging works.
In 1486-7 Bosch joined ‘The Brotherhood of our Lady’ and remained a member until his death in 1516. He seems to have quickly advanced within the Order, becoming a member of the inner circle in 1488. He shared the bill (with 6 other members) for a formal meal to celebrate his new social position, to which the secretary to the Emperor Maximilian I was invited. The Brotherhood had been founded before 1318 and was dedicated to the veneration of Mary. They were encouraged to follow her example in caring for the poor and other charitable works, and were rigorous in their commitment to worship. An image of the Virgin -‘Zoete Lieve Vrouw’ - in Saint John’s Church was believed to work miracles, and attracted visitors and members of the Brotherhood from a wide area. The Brotherhood made vows of commitment to attend Sunday services, Vespers on Tuesday and Wednesday, with Mass and Vespers on 20 religious feast days through the year, as well as three annual processions. They sponsored choirs, musicians and compositions for these services. Every six or 8 weeks they hosted communal meals as well as commissioning and supporting passion plays. The Brotherhood of Our Lady also fostered close links with other local religious institutions and groups to which about 1,100 inhabitants of the city were committed. They felt particular affinity to the Dominican friars and several guilds, including De Passiebloem, a chamber of rhetoric, which staged religious plays.
Though founded in 1318, the Brotherhood of Our Lady grew rapidly in the years before 1500, due probably to the spiritual revival encouraged by two houses of the Brotherhood of the Common Life in ’s-Hertogenbosch. Bosch’s Brotherhood had 50-60 inner members and several thousand ‘outer members’. Members came primarily from the upper class elite: minor nobility, bishops and priests both from the local diocese and beyond, theologians, lawyers, merchants, doctors, apothecaries town administrators and craftsmen. The poor could not afford membership, so were banned. Bosch was the only painter among the local Brotherhood at the time, and probably gained membership through his educational knowledge and the social position gained thorough his inherited wealth. In March 1510 he is recorded as paying for and hosting the sumptuous feast following the requiem Mass for a knight, Jan Backs.
The Brotherhood commissioned many works of art for the Church of Sint-Jan (Saint John) in ’s-Hertogenbosch, particularly for their Brotherhood chapel of Our Lady. In 1478 they commissioned a more splendid chapel for their Brotherhood on the north side of the Choir, from the architect Alart du Hamel. Bosch’s father Anthonius was involved in discussions for its new altarpiece. Anthonius may have acted as on of the Brotherhood’s artistic advisors. Through his membership of the Brotherhood, Hieronymus gained access to more secular and religious patrons, and commissions like the decoration of St John’s Church. He would also have become known by members of the Brotherhood further afield: Brothers included members of the Habsburg and Burgundian court. Diego de Guevara, the steward of Philipp the Handsome and Hendrick III Prince of Nassau may have been involved in commissioning The Garden of Earthly Delights. Nothing can be proved to have survived of Bosch’s commissions in Saint John’s, which may have been stolen or destroyed around 1629, when Prince Frederick Henry took the city from the Spanish and imposed Calvinist principles.
There was no Painters’ Guild in Den Bosch, but as an avowed ‘Brother’ of the Brotherhood of Mary, he would not have had obligations to a guild. As a member of the Brotherhood he would have made oaths to follow and carry out many religious duties. As there is no record of Bosch ever having sanctions against him, it is probable that he took his duties and vows to the Brotherhood seriously. Members wore a cope on ceremonial occasions, which changed liturgical colour on the Feast of John the Baptist on June 24th each year. The copes were variously green, red, violet, white, blue, with a silver badge with the moto: ‘Sicut lilium, inter spinas’ / ‘As a lily among thorns’. [Song of Songs]. As a member of the Brotherhood he may also have been regarded as a cleric, even though he was married and was not required to be celibate. In this position he would probably have had a tonsure and held an office in the church (to read the Bible during services, keep order, or serve as an acolyte or server. Some members were exorcists – an interesting connection, considering Bosch’s esoteric subject matter.
We do not know the detail of Bosch’s theological training within the Order, but he would have received basic theological education. He would have known the Devotio Moderna reform movement, popular in the area at the time based on piety like the Desert Fathers, who encouraged a mystical and personal relationship with Christ. As the Brethren and Sisters of the Common Life had two houses in ’s-Hertogenbosch, Bosch is likely to have known Thomas à Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ [c1418-1427]. Some references to it have been interpreted within his works. His patrons would certainly have known of their teaching and spirituality. They contributed to a spiritual revival in thought and devotion during Bosch’s lifetime.
Some of the many writings of Dionysius van Rijkel (Denis the Carthusian - died 1471), who founded the ’s-Hertogenbosch Carthusian Monastery have also been associated with Bosch’s work. Dionysius van Rijkel wrote 187 books including ‘On Contemplation’; ‘On Contempt for the World’; and writings on the Virtues and Vices. One emphasis of local spirituality of the time was on turning contemplative prayer into righteous social action. This is reflected in Bosch’s symbolic images of righteous and unrighteous actions, and his ironic references to ecclesiastical corruption and spiritually false activities of clerics.
Art was part of the encouragement to spirituality. Paintings of the Gospel scenes or the lives of the saints were believed to convey religious and moral teaching. They were thought to communicate directly through the eyes as well as encouraging religious thoughts. Bosch may have met Erasmus of Rotterdam who studied in ’s-Hertogenbosch from 1484-7. Erasmus himself painted and had an interest in art and artists.
Bosch would have inherited the belief that earthly life was filled with temptation, pain and troubles. If you did not overcome these by holiness the next life would be worse. Some believed that the evil went directly to hell. Others went to Purgatory in the meantime, where it was possible for you in your time there, and others still alive praying for you, to atone for your sins. The prayers and Masses said for you in church could help purify you and mitigate the suffering of the fires of Purgatory which were needed to destroy Original Sin. These purgatorial fires recur regularly in the backgrounds of Bosch’s paintings, as well as the more permanent fires of Hell. The altarpieces and patrons displayed within them perpetuated the memory of the deceased and encouraged continued prayer for them.. God would finally establish his order on earth and in the Day of Judgement and Resurrection.
Contemporary theology taught that scripture could and should be interpreted on four levels, as God intended when he created everything with meaning in the world. (The four varieties of meaning may have been suggested by the four Gospels, and the idea that the number four expressed a universal approach – 4 Elements; 4 Temperaments; 4 points of the compass etc.) Scripture was interpreted according to:
· The letter or literal meaning of the words or what the stories tell;
· The allegorical meaning behind the subject.
· The morality suggested within, or taught by the passage.
· The analogies that the story offers, with which to interpret the world now and the world of the future.
The meanings of Bosch’s pictures might have been interpreted along similar lines. There may not be one definitive meaning to the many symbols and references in his images. They can be interpreted in many and varied ways. They seem to be deliberately complex, esoteric and multi-layered, in order to encourage thoughts, challenges and puzzles. But each scene is intended to lead the viewer to consider ways to follow the example of Christ, the saints, or the moral teaching of the story or scene. They are not intended to lead the viewer heretical into beliefs or speculations that might focus away from orthodox Christian faith. The pictures may contain references to alchemy, astrology or heretical subjects of the time, but Bosch wasn’t using them to promote non-orthodox beliefs or practices. He may have been using the subjects of unorthodox practices and nightmares as warnings to the viewers. This seems particularly true of the Lisbon Temptation of St. Anthony, which is thought to contain several alchemic references.
Although we cannot be certain of the precise meaning of his paintings, and they are full of personal inventiveness, they are steeped in the culture of his time, so we have many sources and clues, which help to interpret them. He was part of a culture in which many might have been able to understand certain references, of which we are now unaware, even if they did not understand all or the whole. He seems to have referred to or referenced many sources:
· Religious Legends – particularly the Golden Legend and other Lives of the Saints.
· Bestiaries and Floras, which interpreted all aspects of God’s Creation.as having symbolic, ethical or theological meaning.
· Fables
· Proverbs. There were Dutch books of Proverbs of Bosch’s day including Heinrich Bebel’s Proverbia Germanica published in Leiden in 1508.
· Folk Legends
· Local traditions
· Mediaeval fascination with dreams, nightmares, astronomy, astrology, alchemy and contemporary scientific understanding. These were all often associated with theological beliefs. As well as his own vivid ideas and fantasies.
WORKS
A number of works originally attributed to Bosch are now believed to be copies, or painted by workshop assistants. There was a thriving trade in copyists in Antwerp particularly from the third quarter of the 16th Century. Many other works are now known only through engravings or copies, or descriptions in archives of past collections. Because of the growth of Bosch’s fame, many works were attributed to him, and inscribed with false signatures. Finished drawings like the Tree Man, Death and the Miser and Hearing Forest and the Seeing Field seem to have been created to be sold to collectors.
In 1504 Philip the Handsome commissioned a Last Judgement triptych. In 1508-9 the Brotherhood of Our Lady approached him and the architect Jan Heyn over the design of a new altarpiece (believed to be the Altar of Our Lady by the carpenter Adriaen van Wesel, a project which appears to have been later abandoned, due to cost.
ADORATION OF THE MAGI
Philadelphia Museum of Art. Oil on Panel. 74 cm. x 54 cm.
In this fairly early work, the aged Joseph stands at the far side of the table, humbly covering his head, or pulling back his hood with his hand, in reverence for the visitors. Jesus reaches out enthusiastically to the goblet which the magus has just opened. Two figures look on from the stable have been variously identified as shepherds or peasants. But one appears to be dressed more sophisticatedly and the other is a helmeted soldier. Are these spies for Herod, or may the man in black implied to be the presence of Herod himself, not actually in the biblical story but whose threat is present in the story? While this appears on the surface to be a fairly conventional scene, Bosch’s work already contains novelties and enigmas as well as originality in the ways that he interprets the religious scene.
ECCE HOMO
Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main. Oil on Panel. 75 cm. x 61 cm. (Another version is in Boston Museum of Fine Art.)
Again this is a fairly conventional composition of a common scene in religious art. Pilate presents Jesus ot the crowd, who present an interesting variety of examples of late-mediaeval society. But there are few peasants among them; they seem to be mostly nobles, merchants, figures in foreign dress and soldiers. The inscriptions read “Crufige Eum” / “Crucify Him” and Pilate’s words “Ecce Homo” / “Behold the Man!”, while above the figures of the donors is written: “Salve nos Christe redemptor” / “Save us Christ Redeemer”.
The foreign character of the figures in the crowd is emphasised by the non-European nature of the dress they are given: turbans, helmets and weapons. Their evil nature is represented by their expressions and also the owl in the window or niche near Pilate. The owl in the mediaeval Bestiary was often used as an anti-Semitic symbol for Jews, who it was believed preferred to remain in spiritual darkness than to accept the light of God revealed in Christ. On a soldier’s shied is a toad, a symbol of evil waiting to pounce on its prey. From a building in the city square beyond, hangs a Turkish crescent flag, reminding the viewer of the contemporary occupiers and governors of Jerusalem, who were regarded as a threat to Christendom.
CHRIST CROWNED WITH THORNS
National Gallery, London. Oil on Panel 73 cm x 59 cm
Christ Crowned with Thorns, (c1495) is Bosch’s earliest surviving half-length painting of Christ’s Passion, a style that was fashionable in Flanders. Christ is depicted as an example of Christian humility in the face of persecution. The four figures that surround him have several potential interpretations: They display the facial features, complexions and colour-schemes of the Four Temperaments: Choleric, Melancholic, Phlegmatic and Sanguine They react to Jesus with different tempers, and have symbols that might seem to identify them: The arrow and armoured fist of a warmonger, The Black Oak sprig, denoting the Rovere Family, then controlling the papacy. This figure carries a club and wears a ‘besague’ or armoured shoulder plate and spiked dog-collar, The latter has been variously identified as a reference to the Dominicans (‘domini-cani ‘/‘ the dogs of the Lord’, or the violence of hounds persecuting the Messiah in the words of Psalm 22:16: “For dogs surround me; a band of evil men encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet.”) This figure has a determined, sly, untrustworthy expression. The lean elderly man with wispy white beard has a more venomous stare and is identified by the Islamic crescent on his headdress. The more active persecutor in the lower right, who appears to rip at Jesus’ light-flesh-coloured robe seems to be intended to have a Semitic profile, to show him as one of the Jews molesting Christ.
In the Monastery of San Lorenzo, El Escorial is a roundel of the same subject with similar symbolism, which is generally attributed to Bosch but is more portrait-like in detail than most of his works.
CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Musée des Beaux-Arts. Ghent. Oil on Panel. 74 cm. x 81 cm.
The attribution of Christ Carrying the Cross in the Musée des Beaux-Arts, Ghent has been disputed, but is generally accepted by many scholars as by Bosch. Its faces are far more grotesque and caricatured than his other work, so, if it is by him, it is probably a late work. It may be the work seen by Durer in Italy in 1506 or pained even later, perhaps after 1510, adopting the style of exaggeration for which he became famous and admired. Some experts suggest that it is a studio variation of a now-lost work.. Dendrochronology has suggested that the panels may be from wood cut after Bosch’s death. It is unlike the style of Bosch’s other pictures, or the style of any other work of Christian Devotional art in the history of painting, so if it is not by Bosch or his assistants there is little to help its identification..
Even the face of Christ, while demurely lowered, is less calm or placid than Bosch’s London panel Christ Crowned with Thorns, though Jesus’ temperaments are obviously meant to be in more balance than the other figures in the painting. Their sneering gap-toothed mouths, swollen lips, ugly visages, staring eyes, hooked noses and deformities are less subtle than the London panel and more like caricatures. It is less easy to detect their different temperaments, other than to see that in all of them their humours are unbalanced. They may be intended to represent different characters: cruelty, foolishness, cowardice, bestiality – animal sides of the human condition. The bound Penitent Thief, dark and scared confesses to a priest in the upper right, who looks more evil than the thief. In the lower right the snub-nosed, more securely bound Unrepentant Thief snarls at his taunters. They may be figures inspired by a Passion play, the productions of which were rarely subtle drama.
The exception is the figure of Veronica, in the lower left-hand corner, whose lean, almost serene face turns away from the horrors and violent characters surrounding the Saviour. She smiles slightly as she turns to her maid and displays the image miraculously imprinted on her cloth. This draws attention to the contrast between the features of the good and evil in the painting.
A mid-14th Century treatise on physiognomy: Den mensche te bekennen bi vele tekenen quotes Hippocrates interpretation of human features: “Hippocrates warned his pupils to beware those who are naturally pale, for those are liable to do wrong and to sin… Those who have large eyes, bulging outward, and of an ugly shape, are ill-tempered, lecherous and disobedient… Those who have eyes like those of an ass are foolish and cruel in character. People who have hard eyes, the look of which is sharp and lively, are thieves, dishonest and shiftless… A pointed nose signifies ill-temper. A long nose extending past the mouth signifies malevolence, pride and wickedness. A bent nose signifies malice, violence in anger and hastiness… Those who have thin and pale faces are stubborn, reckless and fond of fighting, livers of falseness and impure of body… Those who have large wide mouths are pugnacious, wicked and deceitful. Those who have large lips are foolish and slow in all things… Those who have short, squat necks are foolish and weak in the head…etc.” Most of the characters surrounding Christ and Veronica in this painting could almost be illustrations of that manual.
WAY OF THE CROSS / CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Oil on Panel. 57.2 cm x 32 cm.
The panel Way of the Cross was originally the left wing of a small triptych. On the reverse is an unusual picture of a child with a walking-frame, holding what appears to be a toy windmill. It has been variously interpreted as an allegory or emblem of ‘innocence’ or ‘foolishness’, but the association of the arms of a windmill with the Cross suggest that the child is meant to be interpreted as Christ . It is noticeable that the pose of the toddler’s legs is almost that of Christ carrying the Cross on the other side of the panel. It seems likely that this represents, or is an allegory of, the Christ-child learning to walk the way of God and following the inspiration of the breath or wind of the Spirit that would eventually lead him on his journey towards Calvary. The windmill as a symbol of the Cross, is found in the many windmill buildings painted in the background of Flemish paintings of the Road to Calvary. The child’s hesitant steps in learning to walk may be being compared with the struggle and agony of Jesus under the weight of the Cross. It would be fascinating to know what the other panels of the triptych depicted.
Christ’s own suffering, as he carries the cross is exacerbated by blocks of wood, covered in nails, which appear to be bound to his waist to hang down to lacerate his ankles and feet. This was a feature of some mediaeval forms of punishment for offenders, which Bosch must have witnessed. It is depicted in works of art by other Dutch painters. Its inclusion in this painting may be to intentionally exaggerate the suffering which Christ’s persecutors forced him to endure. Jesus is being drawn to Calvary by a turbaned soldier who carries a shield on his back with a toad painted or impaled upon it, as in the Frankfurt-im-Main Ecche Homo..
In the foreground of the Way of the Cross the Penitent Thief confesses his sins to a benign priest (a cultural and historical anachronism, as we are viewing First-Century, pre-Church Israel), while the bonds of the Unrepentant Thief are tightened by two soldiers.
Bosch’s earlier, much large Christ Carrying the Cross shows an elderly, figure of Simon of Cyrene helping to take the weight of the Cross. He appears to have very Jewish-features. On the right wing Mary collapses beneath John’s feet.
MARRIAGE FEAST AT CANA
Museum Boymans-van-Beuyningen, Rotterdam Oil on Panel. 93 cm. x72 cm.
This appears to have been painted late in Bosch’s early period. Its condition is poor, having had its upper corners removed and much repainting, including much later additions like the dogs in the foreground (probably 18th Century). On either side of Jesus sit men in contemporary dress, who may have been the donors of the painting. The L-shape of the table is unusual, though may have been a local tradition. Its composition does allow equal focus to be given to both Christ and the wedding couple. Jesus sits under a canopy, with richly decorated cloth of gold behind him; more the setting for a royal throne or for a noble bridal couple. There may be an intended allegory here of the Church as the Bride of Christ.
The picture’s mood is particularly serious for a picture of a wedding feast - even sombre in places, rather than celebratory. The exceptions are the grinning musician playing bagpipes in the upper left, the animated older couple in front of the table, and the three figures in front of the servants who process in the platters with a boar’s head and swan One servant looking up at the musician may be singing. In the distance the host appears to indicate a sumptuously arranged array of wedding gifts on a sideboard or cupboard. The only feature which resembles Bosch-like grotesquery is alongside the bagpiper, where a strange goblin-like putto-sculpture atop a pillar appears to have come alive and fired an arrow at the statue opposite, which wisely retreats into the hole behind it. This may be a humorous reference to cupid, firing arrows of love during the wedding banquet.
A possible interpretation has been offered to account for the seriousness of the scene: A contemporary tradition held that the bridegroom at Cana was John the Evangelist. At the conclusion of the feast, the tradition claimed that Jesus called him to leave his wife and follow Christ to a higher form of spiritual wedding in following God’s mission. Apart from the church teaching that chastity was a greater calling, this seems a rather cruel interpretation of a story, which John’s Gospel presents as a celebration of marriage, as well as celebrating the scene as Christ’s first miracle - the first of John’s seven signs of Christ’s divinity. If the interpretation of the picture as a celebration of chastity is true, it would certainly account for the unhappy faces of the bride and Mary’s serious expression and gesture.
A more likely reason for the glum atmosphere could be that the expressions are intended to represent growing gloom at the diminished supply of wine. Mary seems to be indicating towards Jesus, who can do something to alleviate the situation, and Jesus’ hand is raised in blessing immediately above the head of the servant pouring the water into wine jars. The woman in an oriental head-dress behind this servant is in immediate line with Jesus’ hand. She may be tasting the first sip of new wine, or the last sip of the earlier inferior wine. Her companion on another oriental hat appears to be reacting to her tasting the wine. The servant talking to the bridegroom may be announcing the good news, hence the bridegroom’s smile. The three figures to the left of the painting, and the two in front of them, may be discussing it. This animated talk is taking place in front of the procession of the platters of swan and boar’s head, which may indicate that the celebration can now continue in joy. I believe this to be a more probable interpretation than celebration of chastity. Above the bridal couple one of the statuettes being displayed on a sideboard or cupboard by the host represents two figures dancing, which would again indicate the celebration of human love. Another represents the Pelican in its piety, an indication of Jesus’ own sacrifice of his life-blood, with its parallel in the wine of the Eucharist
In front of the wedding couple and Mary, with his back to us, a small figure robed in green appears to be a finely dressed and crowned child. He probably represents the Master of the feast, holding up the cup to exclaim that the newly-drawn, miraculous wine is the finest yet served at the feast. But from his size he is either a diminutive man, or a child who has been made master of the feast, as in the traditions of a ‘lord of misrule’ or a ‘child bishop’, enthroned for a day of celebration. His green is the colour of fertility. Beside him on the floor sits either his golden throne or a reliquary, which appropriately faces Christ, pointing to the fact that Jesus is the most special divine guest at the table. This green-robed figure wears the white stole of a deacon. The animated older couple beside him may be reacting to hearing his exclamation about the wine and
EPIPHANY TRIPTYCH
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. Wings 138 cm. x 33cm. Central Panel 138 cm. x 72 cm.
While representing a common theme in mediaeval art, Bosch makes many unusual additions to the composition and the iconography, including its unusual elongated form . In the wings the donors, man and wife are accompanied by St. Peter and St. Agnes with her lamb. They may be the couple’s patron saints, or those of the chapel for which it was intended, or they may refer to the names of the now-unknown donors. The coats of arms behind each are those of the Bronckhorst and Bosschuyse families, but the precise identities have been unidentified, so the details of the commission remain obscure, as does its date, though recent research suggests that it was painted for Antwerp,
This is a more formal Epiphany than the Philadelphia panel. The Magi approach more formally, Mary and Jesus receive them in a more stiff position and the donors watch with reverence. Only the surrounding figures are less formal. The shepherds or local peasants climb onto the balding thatched roof, crowd round the side of the building or peep through a hole in the wattle and daub to watch the unusual encounter. Joseph, unusually, keeps at a distance in the left-hand wing, drying a cloth against a fire, beneath a lean-too shelter. Further in the distance two groups of horsemen charge at each other, while another group gathers beyond the sand-pits in the distance. Are these the magi’s entourage, coming from different directions, armies or hunters preparing for an affray, or perhaps soldiers sent out by Herod to seek the child. Jerusalem appears in the background, under the Epiphany star, like an exotic city of domes and pinnacles, as it does in the background of Bosch’s Christ on the Cross with Donors and Saints in the Royal Fine Art Museum, Brussels.
The strangest addition to the iconography is a lean, half-naked figure watching from the doorway behind the Magi. While the Magi have removed their headdresses in reverence, he retains his crown, the form of which suggests that he is either a king or a high-priest. Some interpret him as Herod, with his spies hiding beyond him in the darkness. (In the Gospel narrative, Herod was not physically at the scene though his threat was present). No attempts at identifying him are fully convincing. He carries a three-tiered crown, like a false papal crown decorated with monkeys or demons. On his belt are other demon figures standing on their heads. His bare leg displays a crescent-shaped wound that appears to be encased in a glass or crystal cylinder, almost like a reliquary. He is therefore attired and decorated with what seem to be blasphemous parodies of Christian symbolism. This suggests to some interpreters that he might represent the Antichrist, surrounded by the powers of darkness and looking on in order to plan how to deceive the world. He appears to have Jewish or Turkish features, which would link him with contemporary anti-Semitic superstition that the Antichrist would originate in the Tribe of Dan and be born of a Jewish whore. Others relate his attire and features to the Turks who still occupied Jerusalem and were considered a threat to Christendom. They were associated in the mediaeval theological imagination with Gog and Magog [Rev.20:8; Ezek.38 & 39; Gen.10:2], prophesied to appear at the final Apocalyptic battle. Behind the stable roof the two armies charging towards each other may relate to this, adding an Apocalyptic element to this Adoration of the Magi. Such an interpretation does not comfortably fit the theme, though it may have referred to some local superstition that the end was near. The star that led the Magi was sometimes related to the stars that heralded the coming of the Messiah in the Last Days [Rev. 6:13; 8:10-12; 9:1. Eventually Christ would be revealed as the “bright morning star” Rev.22:16.] Another interpretation links the half-naked figure with Balaam in Num.14:17 and his companions as Moabite ambassadors sent by King Balak, but this again is a rather convoluted interpretation.
Whatever his meaning, his presence is obviously meant to be sinister. By contrast the magi were considered in medieval tradition, recounted in the Golden Legend, to have been converted from a past in pagan sorcery, by their encounter with the truth in the Christ-child. There are threatening presences elsewhere within the triptych. Behind Joseph in the left-hand wing demons crawl around the gateway, The peasant dance in the fields beyond could represent the joy of the world at the coming of the Messiah, but it is accompanied by bagpipes, which in the background of the Pilgrim in the Haywain, suggest that the joy is carnal. The lamb of St Agnes in the right wing points to Christ as the sacrificial lamb, often shown in paintings of the Adoration of the Shepherds. In the distance, above the figure of Agnes wolves attack and have separated a man and woman, who flee from them as Joseph and Mary will soon have to flee their native land. A pagan idol with its pole, in the distance, recalls the mediaeval legend, recorded in many paintings of the Flight into Egypt, that as Jesus and Mary crossed into the foreign land its idols fell on their faces in his divine presence and were broken.
Closed Wings
On the back of the wings of the altarpiece Bosch depicts the Eucharist of Pope Gregory the Great [c540-604], where Christ was said to have appeared to confirm his presence in the Eucharistic elements. Gregory, an example of the pope as God’s representative on earth, is positioned so that he exactly covers the position of the Antichrist on the main panel, when the wings are closed. (This is unintentionally ironic in the light of later critical images of the Pope from the Protestant Reformation which identified the papacy with the Antichrist.) Above, when the wings are closed, a crucifix covers the exact position of the star of Bethlehem over the stable. Both the figure of Christ on the crucifix and his figure as the Man of Sorrows above the altar open up to reveal the scene with the Magi. This suggests theologically that the sacrifice of Christ opens our ability to approach God through Jesus, as the Magi did, who were also Gentiles like most of us. This breaking open of the body of Christ, like the fracturing of the Host in the Mass, is also a feature of the crucifix in Grünewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece [1512-1516].
This link between the Epiphany and the Mass is found in several mediaeval writers and was a theme in the woodcut images of the popular mediaeval ‘Biblia Pauperum’, where theological parallels were drawn between Old and New Testament scenes. There the Visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon and Abner’s Approach to David in Homage were represented as prefiguring the Epiphany. Both these scenes from the Hebrew Scriptures are depicted on the richly embroidered collar of the second magus in Bosch’s painting. The Sacrifice of Isaac is the carving presented at the feet of Mary, presumably representing the gift of Myrrh and symbolising the sacrifice which Christ will make on the Cross.
ST CHRISTOPHER CARRYING THE CHRIST-CHILD
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 113 cm. x 71.5 cm.
As mentioned earlier, the sense of scale of St Christopher is not recognised until one compares him with the tiny figure of the hermit on the river-bank below him. The painting includes several strange elements, which are typical of the way Bosch elaborated stories to bring out their supernatural implications. Some relate to contemporary theological ideas, but most derive from the Golden Legend and other mediaeval references to the saint.
Christopher, according to legend, was supposed to have been an enormous Canaanite, ‘five cubits’ or seven and a half feet tall, reputedly with a more frightening face than Bosch gave him. He was said to have sought to serve the greatest master – one who was powerful and worthy enough to follow. At first he served the king of Canaan but when he saw that the king crossed himself in fear at hearing the Devil’s name, he recognised that the Devil must be greater than his master. He therefore sought out the Devil, finding him among an evil troupe of marauders, and Christopher turned to served him. On discovering that is new master avoided passing a Cross and feared Christ, he left the Devil in search of an even greater master. In his search he met a hermit who introduced him to the Christian faith and converted him. Christopher asked how he might best actively serve Christ, rather than by passive prayer and fasting. The hermit suggested that Christopher could serve Christ by using his strength and size to help travellers to cross a dangerous river, where many had died. After time in this service, a small child requested that he would carry him across the river. While crossing, the child grew heavier in weight and the river swelled to a flood, causing Christopher to struggle under the burden. On managing to reach the bank he questioned the child, saying that he felt that he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The child replied that Christopher had been carrying not the whole world, but the One who created it. The child, before vanishing, revealed himself to be Christ the king, who the giant had been serving. Later Christopher moved on to comfort persecuted Christians in Lycia, where he was offered enticements to convert to paganism by the king. The saint refused and converted many in the city to Christianity before himself being martyred.
Bosch’s composition depicts Christopher’s world as dominated by evil. Its dangers are apparent: Behind and in front of Christopher, are the masts of two sunken ships, showing the danger of the crossing, and suggesting the danger of our own journey in the world . There are other symbols of threat in the picture. In the distance, across the river a dragon appears over the ruined walls of a large, castle-like building, terrifying the swimmer below him. The town beyond is threatened by fire, Nearer, a huntsman strings-up a captured bear on a tree. The dangers are also moral: above the hermit the enormous pot hanging in the tree identifies it as a strange tavern with a roast chicken cooking in its cracked side. It is reached by a precarious broken ladder. This may be a sign of lost innocence, debauchery and unchastity, which Christopher and the hermit try to avoid but are dangers on life’s journey. Above the pot is a dovecote, then higher in the tree a daring, naked figure attempts to climb a near-vertical branch to raid a woven bee skep – presumably a sign both of his drunkenness and sinful humanity’s precarious climb to find ‘sweetness’.
Christopher is often represented crossing water with fish swimming around his feet. In Bosh’s picture some fish seem stranded on the shore, but he also carries a dead fish from his staff The iconography is uncertain; it looks more like the fish traditionally carried by Tobias or the healing of Tobit’s blindness. Here it may refer to Christ, the ICTHUS, as well as being a possible narrative element- holy food being brought home to make a meal for the hermit, himself and the child, rather than the defiling produce of the tavern.
Despite the many threats, the Christ-child is protected by St. Christopher, and Christopher by the Christ-child. The intention of this painting may be to encourage prayer and vigilance, requesting similar protection from Christ and the saint on journeying through life, travelling, trading or living in a world of natural, physical or spiritual dangers. As we know ’s-Hertogenbosch was on important trade routes. Large murals of St. Christopher near the doorways of many mediaeval churches were used for prayer before many went on journeys or pilgrimages, or were generally prayed to for protection. This panel was probably used either privately or in a chapel for a similar purpose.
JEROME AT PRAYER.
Museum of Fine Art, Ghent. Oil on Panel. 77 cm. x 59 cm. c1495.
Rather than show him resplendent in cardinal’s robes, Bosch shows Jerome as having discarded these, and laid down his copy of the scriptures, which he translated. He prostrates himself in his under-shift upon the crucifix, kissing the legs of the Saviour. His lion companion, so prominent in many paintings of the saint, is relegated to the left edge of the panel, and is only the size of a small dog. It lowers its head, presumably in reverence. The only surreal elements are a strange, insect-like plant form over the left-hand edge of Jerome’s cave and a large empty red shell, flower, fruit or nut in the left foreground. These might be intended to suggest the saint’s exotic location in Palestine, God’s miraculous provision for the hermit in his rocky environment, or indulgent, sensuous temptations, which Jerome was resisting by prayer, fasting, study and devotion to Christ in his suffering. The landscape in the background of the scene, is verdant and peaceful, suggesting that Jerome would not need to go far to secure common provisions. This is very different from the ‘wilderness’ which Jerome described in his letters, where he was besieged by various temptations, including that of lust.
In the distance a large bird has built a substantial nest among the branches on the summit of a rock. This may be a reference to Jesus teaching about the natural world having their homes, but the Son of Man having nowhere to rest his head [Matt.8:20]. Jerome is emulating this deprivation to encourage his spiritual focus. He has found refuge in a rock with many openings, which may be windows for his light, or home for other creatures who share his retreat: These creatures surround him in an apparent state of peace: A lizard crawls up his rock above the lion, an owl sits of the dead tree near a titmouse, which might otherwise have been his prey; a sleeping fox lies near a cockerel, which pecks at the ground secure. In his Letter to Eustochium Jerome described how in his “wilderness” he “had no companions but scorpions and wold beasts… there I made my oratory, there the house of correction for my unhappy flesh.” [Letters of Jerome 22.]. The cave, hollow stumps and discarded, broken shells of exotic fruit are the main symbols of the wilderness to which Jerome went to subdue his flesh and concentrate on Christ. The Owl, as a Bestiary symbol for the Jews, may be included to denote that this scene is set in Palestine, or that Jerome has found Christian enlightenment here, whereas his neighbours had not yet responded to Christ’s light.
TRIPTYCH OF ST JULIA OF CORSICA or ST. WILGEFORTIS
Gallerie dell’Accademia, Venice. Oil on oak panel, Left wing 105.2 × 27.5 cm, Central panel 105.2 × 62.7 cm, Right wing 105 cm × 28 cm,
This small triptych was probably designed for private devotion. It had been heavily repainted but was carefully restored between 2013 -15. Few female martyrs were crucified, so this triptych is thought to represent either Saint Julia of Corsica, mostly venerated in Southern Europe , or more likely Saint Wilgefortis, a fictional saint popular in Northern Europe in Bosch’s time, also known as Saint Uncumber, Ontkommer (Dutch), Kümmernis (German) or Liberata. She was revered in Germany and the Netherlands.
Julia of Corsica died c439, crucified after being tortured and flogged. Her symbols are a martyr’s palm-branch or a cross. A legend said that as she died a dove emerged from her mouth. Little of this is represented in the painting.
Legends of Saint Wilgefortis, date from the 1300s, though now she has been abandoned officially by the Church, due to her fictional status. Her legend states that, having taken a vow of virginity, her father promised her in marriage to a pagan king. She prayed for God to mar her appearance, to make her repulsive to any lover, and thus prevent her marriage, so that she could remain virginal for God. As a result she grew a beard, which is shown as quite black in most images of her, but not strongly painted in Bosch’s. Her father, in rage, demanded that she be crucified. She preached from the cross for three days before she died, converting many, including her father, who repented of his impulsive decision to kill her.
Scenes from her life may have been included on the wings of the triptych. One may have been a painting of the storm sent by God to punish her persecutors. Infra-red scans of the triptych show that drastic changes have been made to its wings particularly. The two side panels were overpainted at an early date, either before the commission left Bosch’s workshop, or soon afterwards. The original intention may have been to show the two donors or two patronal saints on the side panels with background scenes related to their origins and local references. When the full length figures were overpainted, images of Saint Anthony seem to have been chosen to be added, making the links of the background scenes seem more obscure and difficult to interpret.
Some scholars believe that this triptych is partly painted by Bosch’s workshop under his direct guidance, though much of the painting may be by the master himself. The over-painting is so close in style to the rest of the work that it was probably carried out by Bosch and his assistants, so perhaps the commission, patron or buyer changed before the triptych left the workshop. The exterior of the triptych may well have been originally painted in grisaille. Some of the original work may have been removed in Vienna as late as 1838 to 1919, before it entered Venice’s Accademia Collection
Central Panel - The main focus of the central panel is the young woman saint with long brown hair. She is tied by each wrist, rather than nailed to a ‘Tau’ cross. Her expression is sad and plaintive as she looks up to the right and speaks. Her feet (not visible beneath her robes) would be the centre of the panel. She wears a crown and distinctive robes which may be intended to represent her wedding garments. Beneath her long red, split dress with a modest V-neck and wide sleeves, is a dark blue under-dress decorated with a silver foliate pattern in silver. Her fabric belt is fastened with a brooch.
At the foot of the cross, nine hostile men accuse her, while on the left, about fourteen other men seem to be coming from the trunk of a large hollow tree. Another man appears to have collapsed at the foot of the cross, while two men support and attempt to revive him. This is probably the girl’s fiancé, as his tights are similar to the saint’s under-garments. Or it may be her father, who, in the legend, after conversion died of grief at what he had done. Some of the figures to the left also seem distressed by the woman’s crucifixion.
On a small cliff in the middle distance and on the ruins of an old, overgrown tower are some of Bosch’s strange plants with fungoid-shapes and flowers, perhaps suggesting the exoticism of the setting. . A distant town, set in a plain surrounded by green rolling countryside, woods and forests.
The themes of the side panels now seem little-related to the central panel:
Left Panel - The left panel shows white-haired and bearded man, dressed in a black hooded robe, sitting on a rendered wall. He leans forward holding a goblet or chalice and a small bell, looking at a strange hybrid creature below. He is similar to Saint Anthony in the Hermit Saints Triptych, and his bell, strange creatures and fire could be St Anthony’s symbols though the identification with Anthony is not made obvious. The creature that he watches, with just a head, silver-brimmed hat and arms holding a crossbow could be one of the creatures of St. Anthony’s temptation.
Behind him is a fire-lit night scene of a semi-ruined tower, inhabited by men, one with another crossbow, birds, and more strange creatures. To its left are figures and creatures around a bridge. Beyond, a fortified gatehouse leads to a road and another bridge along which pass lines of figures carrying bundles of goods. In the far distance, a burning and smoking town lights the night, The whole scene suggests distress and danger, perhaps oncoming threat.. It has been suggested that the fire is a reference to an historical or local event, possibly even the fire which swept through ’s-Hertogenbosch when Bosch was young. This might indicate that it was created for a local commission.
Right Panel - The right panel shows a coastal landscape with two men walking beyond a rendered wall. One appears to be an executioner with an ugly spiked cudgel over his shoulder and a sheathed, curved sword. The more distant man dressed in brown robes, points to the crucifixion on the central panel. These two men appear to have little relation to the story, unless they represent her former torturers or other disrespectful figures who have come to witness the execution. They help to direct focus onto the central scene.
In the rocky landscape beyond, a hunter tries to spear a small mammal, while another figure with a large sword attempts to attack the hunter. A wolf stands over another creature’s carcass in a field of crows, while above, a figure hangs from a tree branch. On a small beach in the distance, eight to ten figures with ropes, drag a large whale. There is a shipwreck high in the water in the distant sea with bows masts and ragged sails. Perhaps the ship collided with the whale. It still flies its long, red, limp pennant. Another strangely formed ship with a curved rear tower and large jaws is being rowed across the harbour, surrounded by towers, buildings and several smaller ships. In the far distance the green rolling landscape of the central panel continues. The whole scene seems uneasy. The only religious connection which has been offered as a possible explanation is the legend of Jonah and the whale, However the image on the panel does not seem to reflect any aspect of that story, or be relevant to the whole theme. Some commentators have tried to relate the scene to European whaling, in which the Dutch and Basques were involved, including the port of Bruges, but again, the links to the subjects of the triptych seem tenuous.
One of Bosch’s enigmatic owls is added to the image, accompanied by a scroll, which was probably originally inscribed. Most commentators believe the owl to be symbolic of a warning or to represent ignorance or evil, but its precise relevance here appears unclear. It may be a ‘signature’ symbol for the presence of the artist and his thoughts. The owl recurs so often in his pictures that it may have been regarded by the artist as his emblem or a motif for the enigmatic nature of his images. The whole triptych remains enigmatic and hard to interpret.
FALL OF THE REBEL ANGELS and NOAH’S ARK ON MOUNT ARARAT 1510-15
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 69 cm. x 35/38 cm.
These were the panels to a triptych which may have originally had a carving at its centre, though the subject of the main panel is not known. They have been sawn down on three edges and are in bad condition, with much paint-loss.
The identification of the scene depicted in the panel known as The Fall of the Rebel Angels is far from clear. Some believe it to be a scene of Hell, but it contains no scenes of the persecution or torture of the damned. The Fall of the Rebel Angels was taught by some mediaeval theologians to have happened on the third Day of Creation, bringing evil into the world and thus corrupting Creation at an early stage. Other mediaeval theologians suggested that it happened around the same time as the creation of Eve, which may be why it is shown in the background of most of Bosch’s scenes of Eden.
The painting of the Ark shows its inhabitants spreading back out into the world to populate the renewed earth.
Reverse of the Panels:
On the reverse of these panels are 4 allegorical roundels painted in grisaille, which represent:
· Demons beat the inhabitants, gaining possession of a farm or city and driving away its owners or tenants. This roundel shows a figure in the pose of Bosch’s St. John on Patmos kneeling before a woman in white running from persecution.
· A demon persecutes and unseats a ploughman from his horse, who falls onto the harrow being dragged behind. (a scene repeated on the back of the Noah’s Ark and Fall of the Rebel Angels panels in the Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam.)
· Demons besetting a traveller.
· The final scene, like the conclusion of Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, shows Christ blessing a kneeling man, perhaps welcoming the Christian soul, while another soul is being robed in a white garment by an angel [Rev.6:11].
These have been variously identified as scriptural or other parables, scenes of exorcism from St. Augustine’s City of God or scenes form the Book of Job, showing him suffering and tormented by the powers of evil yet being declared righteous before God in the last roundel. The first could be Lot and his wife or a scene from the Apocalypse. None of the suggested identifications are sufficiently convincing. However, they do make it clear that the pictures on the front of the panels should be interpreted as a spiritual metaphor or allegory, as well as literally. Three of the relatively monochromatic images show spiritual threats to ordinary human beings on the journey of life, but we cannot be sure of the precise intended relationship of these scenes to the main pictures,
As we do not know the subject of the main panel, it is hard to interpret the intended relationship of the two side wings to the whole. If it was, as some believe, a Last Judgement, they may have represented the origin of sin, punishment for sin and the means of redemption, where Christ was shown as triumphing over evil.
TRIPTYCH OF HERMIT SAINTS c 1504
Palazzio Ducale, Venice. Oil on Panel. Wings 86 cm x 20 cm; Central Panel 86 cm x 60 cm
This was probably painted in the middle of Bosch’s career. The Central Panel shows St Jerome. On the left wing is the Temptation of St Anthony, with the Temptation of St Giles on the right wing. The hermit saints were recommended as examples for devotion and emulation. Thomas à Kempis, Dionysius van Rijkel and other Devotio Moderna writers pointed to the Desert Fathers as models for focused prayer, simplicity of life, resisting the regular onslaughts of temptation to sin, commitment to purity, and mortifying the flesh to remain dedicated to Christ amid worldly or spiritual temptations These were seen by Thomas à Kempis as features of Christian zeal to progress and grow spiritually. It is likely that this triptych was designed as a commission for a small private chapel or domestic room, to encourage the patron’s spiritual growth.
Left-Hand Panel
The Temptation of St Anthony became a popular theme in contemporary art. He is shown resisting the advances of an amorous demon-queen.
Right-Hand Panel
St Giles is shown praying before an altar in a cave. The arrow through his breast signifies a previous incident, when he was accidentally shot by a hunter.
Central Panel
St Jerome mortifies his flesh by beating his breast with a stone while focusing attention on the Crucifix . His chair, throne or prie-dieu before which he kneels is engraved with reliefs of Judith and Holofernes and a man taming a unicorn - a symbol of purity and chastity. Another man crawls into a beehive or woven bee-skep (a motif also found in Bosch’s panel of St Christopher). His bare bottom sticks out of the skep, being too large to enter, which is probably a sign of his impurity in his fruitless search for ‘sweetness’. In a surviving drawing by Bosch of the motif, he is about to be beaten on the bottom by a man wielding a mandolin. He may be a symbol of gluttony, driven in by a foolish greed for honey. An owl sits on a branch that grows out of the woven bee-skep, surrounded by birds that persecute it, as in the Bestiary symbolism of the Owl, where it is not a symbol of wisdom, but an anti-Semitic symbol of heresy, suggesting people who prefer darkness to God’s light. This may imply a temptation to intellectual blindness, which Jerome overcame through his studies and devotion.
In Jerome’s letters he described the erotic visions in the wilderness, which attempted to interrupt his spiritual meditations. The women who tempted him are not present in the picture, but around him the wilderness is scattered with many ugly details. In the foreground two small monsters fight and devour each other; the skeleton of another lies nearby. Beneath them an archway feels like a prison rather than a place of shelter. As Jerome was said to have done some of his meditation among tombs this could represent a grave or the entrance to the underworld or Hell, from which the creatures and temptations emerge. Behind Jerome, a glass jar represents a figure praying to the stars, which may indicate that the hermit’s thoughts are raised to higher contemplation..
JOHN THE BAPTIST IN THE WILDERNESS
Museo Lazario Galdiano, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 48.5 cm. x 40 cm. c.1490-95
This is one of Bosch’s most exotic paintings, probably produced as a commission for the Brotherhood of Our Lady. John sits contemplating the Lamb of God in a golden setting, surrounded by luxuriant trees with a strange rocky outcrop in the distance. It is hardly a ‘desert’ or ‘wilderness’, but some other Netherlandish painters, notably Geertgen tot Sint Jans, also represented John the Baptist in a lush green landscape, though without the imaginative exotic plants. By John’s side an exotic plant grows, rather like the gourd in the Jonah legend. It is imaginatively invented, with spiny, twisting stems, broad leaves and giant fruit, filled with seeds, like a pomegranate. A bird feasts on it and sucks its dripping nectar or honey while another bird at the top of the plant sits on the dried shell of the fruit. Honey drips from the dried fruit, suggesting that bees have made their net in it. The bird seems to have hung two large flying insects onto an upper spine, perhaps to feed its young. Are these the locusts and honey on which John was supposed to survive? At the base of the plant is a small, dark mammal, perhaps a mole representing the life of the underworld. It is suggested that the plant may be a symbol of the sweet pleasures of earth which are full of danger. As the plant is so dominant in the composition it must be intended to have important significance in the meaning of the painting. As John so clearly ignores its presence, while looking and pointing towards the Lamb of God he is probably rejecting the temptations of the pleasures of the world. In the distant landscape various animals graze. A black bear climbs a tree, a grey bear or large wolf devours the remains of a deer.
John rests his head on his hand, leaning on a grey slab, out of which a root grows that appears to be a mandrake, superstitiously believed to breach prisons and be a sign of Resurrection. If the stone slab is that of a tomb it may imply that after John’s imprisonment and death the Resurrection of Christ will redeem and free him to eternal life. A dead bird seems to be lying on the slab, perhaps a foretaste of John or Jesus’s future. Apart from the exoticism of the setting it is hard to interpret the intention of the panel other than as an encouragement to meditate on St. John and follow his spiritual discipline and aims. But these are hardly represented in the image. John is robed in red finery rather than camel-skin, the robes of a martyr. Only his right sleeve suggests that he wears another garment beneath. It is only the lamb in the foreground that makes obvious the identification of John the Baptist as the subject of the painting.
TEMPTATION OF ST ANTHONY TRIPTYCH
Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, Lisbon. Oil on Panel. Wings 131.5 cm. x 53 cm. Central Panel 131.5 cm. x 119 cm.
The Temptation of St Anthony was an apt subject for Bosch’s imaginative fantasies. He returned to it is several works, of which this is the finest and most complex. It was also one of Bosch’s most influential and imitated paintings: over 30 relatively contemporary copies survive. Versions attributed to him at the time were in many collections throughout Europe. The original was probably acquired in late 1505 as a gift for his father by Philip the Handsome, who paid 312 guilders for it to the aldermen of the free council in Bruges
It was unusual to devote a whole triptych to scenes from St. Anthony’s life, though he was an influential patron saint, both as an example in resisting temptation and as a healer. His aid was particularly invoked against ‘ergotism’, the prevalent, agonising and hallucinatory nerve disease ‘St. Anthony’s Fire’, caused by eating bread made from damp mouldy grains. Even Grunewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece, for a monastic hospital chapel dedicated to the saint, where the disease was treated, includes images of Christ’s redemption. Bosch’s commission only has small images of Christ’s Passion on its external panels, only seen when the triptych was closed. The saint may have been related to the name or devotion of the original patron or donor, or the subject could have had some other special relevance.. It may even have been commissioned or collected more out of curiosity and fascination with the grotesquery and imagination in the works of art than as a devotional image.
Bosch probably derived the ideas and some details for his scenes from popular tales and superstitions about St. Anthony, as well as Dutch translations of the Golden Legend and ‘The Lives of the Fathers’. However he elaborated them from his own imagination and sense of drama.
External Wings
The outer wings painted in grisaille, illustrate the Passion of Christ – his Arrest on the left panel and Carrying the Cross on the right. They are not as carefully composed as many of Bosch’s other scenes, suggesting that the commission may have been started and worked on in a hurry. The images compare the passivity of Christ with the anger, violence and guilt of those surrounding and persecuting him. It feels as though the scenes are intended to encourage us to feel thankful for God’s grace towards us, and increase our imitation of Christ’s character and responses, more than to deepen our sense of guilt at our failings. Christ’s Passion relates ot the inner images of the struggles of St. Anthony to be worthy of and to emulate the purity and suffering which his Saviour endured for him.
Left Outer Wing:
This panel represents the struggles of Christ in Gethsemane, suggesting parallels with St. Anthony’s struggles in the desert. In the foreground Peter attacks the High Priest’s servant with his sword, cutting off his ear, as the servant drops his dark lantern. Across the plank bridge, behind them soldiers and servants persecute, taunt and kick Jesus as he still kneels on the ground A figure, who is perhaps John, walks away to the left, leaving part of his cloak lying on the ground by the bridge. The entrance to the garden of Gethsemane is marked by a canopied gateway, while in the background we see a cross already erected on Calvary and Jerusalem is represented as a northern European city in the distance.
Right Outer Wing
In the middle distance, at the same position as the crowd around the persecuted Christ in the left panel, Christ is surrounded by a lean angry crowd forcing him towards Calvary. He has fallen and Simon of Cyrene is helping to take the weight of the Tau Cross. Veronica kneels before him, holding out her veil. Looking on is a large woman with two small children, one on her shoulders, the other holding her hand. She probably represents one of the Daughters of Jerusalem to whom Christ offered warning, advice and solace [Lk.23:28].
The scenes in the foreground of this panel are less easy to interpret. They possibly represent the death of Judas, expressing regret to two priests on the left, then fallen from a collapsed gibbet in the right foreground, But the figure on the left with the priests could be Peter denying Christ, as the scene behind him seems to show the bound and blindfolded Christ, held by a soldier, being slapped by a priest and taunted to identify who hit him [Lk.24:64].
The strangest addition to the scene is a crow watching the beheaded head of a woman impaled on a tree form which a pot hangs. This sign is difficult to interpret. It could represent the fate of Jerusalem of which Jesus had warned its daughters [LK.23:22] or be a symbol of Calvary itself - ‘the place of the skull’. It is probable that such public display of beheaded miscreants was used in Bosch’s own society as a warning, just as the bodies of the hanged were left on display on gibbets or wheels.
Left-Hand Wing
In the sky of the left hand panel the flying vessels and creatures which torment Anthony are composed of fish, a pan, a snarling fox’s head, insect legs and other abstract objects. According to legend, while praying in the shelter of an old tomb a horde of demons overwhelmed and beat the saint, leaving him for dead. When he returned to his place of prayer a second time they raised him in the air, but divine light from the tomb dispersed them. In the upper part of this scene Anthony has been caught up into the air by flying fish-demons to be thrown to the ground. The main group of human figure at the centre of the panel shows him being helped to walk away by companions in the robes of the Antonite Order. One, whose face is clearest has been suggested to be a self-portrait by Bosch, since it resembles the supposed portrait drawing of him in the Bibliothèque Municipale d’Arras.
Beneath the bridge over which the group walk over three characters are reading One is a priest, who may be holding out an indulgence or confession (the writing is illegible), the other two are creatures, one a hybrid between a robin and a rat, the other face in the darkness behind has ears and a mouth rather like a bat or bear. In front of them a skating bird-like creature with a conical hat holds out another manuscript. The writing on this is clearer, but not easily deciphered, so has been variously interpreted as Bosch’s signature, a reference to simony, a letter of protest or an allusion to laziness. His hat, a metal funnel, is like that of the bogus doctor in Casting the Stone / The Stone Operation.
Many of the figures of fiends and creatures are hybrids, formed of various animate creatures, or parts of them, and inanimate objects. Some of them may not have particular meanings, but be designed to entrance the viewer’s sense of fantasy. But others, perhaps most, probably had meaning for the artist and his contemporary viewers, some of which we can only imagine today as we no longer know the sayings, motifs proverbial phrases or symbols on which they were based.
In the left foreground a bird with a huge head, which may be the mate of the robin eats its young as they appear from the egg. Higher above near the bay, a white fish in an elaborate wheeled and pinnacle shell swallows another fish. Higher above him a figure with a flaming head-dress plays bagpipes while squirting from its fat rectum. All the creatures on the extreme left of the panel seem to be either cannibalistic or performing ugly activities.
To the right of the panel a strange procession of pseudo-religious creatures moves towards a cave, formed by the naked backside of a man, crawling under a hill, with a bolt fired into his head. The procession is led by a figure in a sorcerer’s hat, a nun’s wimple and a scarlet cloak. Another, also in scarlet, has the head of an antlered deer, while the other, dressed as a hooded monk, has an elongated snout, rather like a spoonbill or the demon riding on the cart in the Haywain. From the woman looking through the window, the ale-jug and the symbols outside, it has been suggested that the cave they enter is a brothel or disreputable inn rather than a place of faith; its entrance may be a sign of sodomy. This interpretation of the goal of the procession as one of destruction is heightened by the false beacon, high on a hill above, which is luring ships to their doom on the rocks below.
Right-Hand Wing
In the right hand panel, a naked woman comes to Anthony from a richly draperied hollow tree. According to legend, this was Satan in disguise as a beautiful, innocent saint-like queen, bathing in a river. She took the hermit saint to her city, showing him all her good and charitable works. He recognised her true intentions when she attempted to allure and seduce him. To resist temptation the saint reads, turning his head towards us, away from the temptation of desire and lust. A debauched orange demon holds open the temptress’s tent as his wine bowl is filled by a queen-like figure, dressed in blue, who may be intended to be read as parodying Mary. Another demon crawls out from under the tent with a silver platter, into which Cupid seems to have already fired his arrow of list and missed his target. . On a branch above the naked woman’s tent a European kingfisher perches, which may symbolise the sex offered within. (The swallowing of a fish as a symbol of the sexual act.)
In the sky an obese man with a fire-pot on a pole, carries off an elegant woman, riding on a fish. Fish here are probably intended as sexual symbols, both as phallic references and related to the smell of spent semen. (Shakespeare used the same imagery of Caliban’s lechery in The Tempest, when Trinculo emphasises his smelling of fish [Act2: Scene2].) The flying man’s fire-pot probably represents smouldering passion.
Behind Saint Anthony, an elderly man or demon, doubled up and swathed for warmth, struggles to walk with a wheeled walking frame, similar to that used by the child on the reverse of the Vienna ‘Christ Carrying the Cross. The struggle to learn to walk through life has come full circle. At his side hangs a pot with a spout, presumably to stop him dribbling as he drinks. This reminds me of the descriptions of the frustrations of failing abilities in old age in the final chapter of Ecclesiastes [Eccl.12:1-8].
The scene in the foreground is more obscure. A meagrely but expensively spread table of bread, wine and herbs is carried above three naked men, in tortured positions. This may be a parody of the Eucharist, with a golden flask and two baps, offered to be shared between Anthony and the naked demon-queen. One man blows an elaborate horn to distract Anthony from his studies and prayer, one has a dagger through his head and carries what seems to be a scimitar, The central nude has his hands tied behind his back, one leg in a pot and the other leg is wounded, like that of the Pilgrim / Wanderer. The most grotesque figure in the picture, beneath Anthony, has a huge arse for a head, with a dagger sticking out of its anus. It has no body, but the head-dress of a nobleman, red like the tent of the naked woman, to whom the dagger points. It may be a reference to sodomy, then considered a sin punishable by death.
On first view, the city scene in the background, presumably the queen’s city, with its windmills, towers and market square, seems a fairly innocent image of a northern-European town. However, on closer inspection it is a threatening atmosphere: the lake is populated by sea-monsters against which one knight battles. The city walls are crowded with battling solders, the market-square is almost deserted and may contain a canon. Atop one of the towers is a building that looks like a huge bee-skep (suggesting sweetness within the city) but it is on fire. This may be intended to be interpreted as showing that the sweetness offered here is destructive and would lead to Hell. The city could almost be intended as an image of Sodom or Gomorrah.
Central Panel
The scenes in the central panel are far more complex. Bosch seems to have been inventing ideas as he went along, as many changes were made in the process of painting. He did not always keep close to the drawing beneath the paint, and several pentimenti show how he changed the image as he painted. St Anthony, in the exact centre of the central composition, signs a blessing, while surrounded by a host of strange scenes and creatures From a rich family, Anthony gave up half his inherited fortune and assumed the life of a hermit, where he was tempted and tormented by the Devil in various guises, and through different demons and monsters. This central panel focused on his steadfastness In the distance is a fiery city either the destruction of the world, the flames of Purgatory or Hell itself.
Demons in a huge variety of types come out of the air, water and land to distract and tempt him from his devotions beside a ruined tomb – the place of Anthony’s contemplation of mortality. Behind him an elaborate wedding feast, similar to that at the front of the right-hand wing, is celebrated by a richly attired couple. Behind them a creature with the nose of a shawm or similar wind instrument plays his ugly sensual music, similar to the figure accompanying the lovers on top of The Haywain. Their black servant holds up a platter on which a frog, in turn, holds up an egg. A pig-like relative, laden with jewels and with a barn-owl perched on its head, dances sedately. She has a small dog on a lead, dressed in a fool’s cap, as is the dog in The Conjuror. She carries a lute, which the man behind with a hurdy-gurdy attempts to grab. He has a crippled and putrescent leg and a lizard-like tail. Ravenously entering at the side are a riotous creatures carrying instruments of torture. A ‘tree-man’ with a metal gauntlet holds a monstrous, snarling hound, which has huge ears in the form of a crow and the swift legs of a hind. These probably all represent aspects of sensuous and sensual violent appetites. In the front left, from out of the rotting shell of an exotic fruit or giant strawberry, a demon drives a chariot drawn by a plucked roast chicken and a skeletal animal into the frozen water. These possibly represent the death to which those with false appetites are drawn. Beneath the fruit lurk two drunken demons, but a goldfinch also looks out, a recognisable symbol for Christ. The finch finding nourishment among thistles and thorns, despite pricking its breast and head was generally an analogy to the Crucifixion. As the Goldfinch is present in the midst of the temptation, perhaps it suggests that Anthony may find solace hidden within his trials.
Before the chapel a greedy nun before Anthony is being offered a bowl from this feast by an elaborately head-dressed young woman, with a pointed tail to her dress, resembling a reptile. He is encouraged to partake by the nun and the noble who sit with him. However a smaller figure of Christ, almost hidden in the depth of the chapel before him, focuses his thoughts on the Crucifix and Anthony resists the offered drink and any associated temptations..
A direct diagonal line between the upper right and lower left corners of the panel from Christ to St Anthony, extends further to a small enigmatic figure who is easy to miss within the scene, though he is dressed in red. This is a top-hatted man with a small gold sword and a kerchief spread on the floor before him. He leans against the parapet of the bridge and is partly hidden. His top-hat makes him seem like a modern addition, or a master of ceremonies. The cloth before him could be a cloth on which is spread a morsel from the feast, but in fact it holds a severed foot, its ankle-bone devoid of flesh We are not given a clue whether it is his own. Perhaps like Ugolino della Gherardesca in Dante he eats his kin or gnaws at himself.
Meanwhile a sacrilegious liturgy is being spoken by the two animal demons, who stand at the front edge of the platform on which Anthony kneels. One, with a monk’s tonsure and a rat’s face, wears a chasuble embroidered with a butterfly’s wings and recites from an elaborately illuminated tome. His companion wears a funnel, like the robin on the left wing and the false doctor in Casting the Stone/ The Stone Operation.
To the right of the panel is an even more crowded and elaborate scene. A city, of rich, carved architecture dominates the landscape. It may represent the wealth of Jerusalem, the East, Rome, or the Church. Naked figures live in and climb on it; one appears about to dive from its parapet or perhaps is hanging from a rope. Behind him on the roof, a monk and a nun dine together. The relief carvings on the walls of the round tower may help in its identification. Two are scenes from the Hebrew Scriptures: The uppermost level shows the Idolisation and Adoration of the Golden Calf in the wilderness. Beneath this is a pagan scene of idolatry, with a group offering oblations to an enthroned ape. The lower level represents Joshua’s spies returning from Canaan, laden with grapes which declared the fruitfulness of the land. The latter was regarded in the Biblia Pauperum as a parallel to the Eucharist and a prefiguration of Christ bearing his Cross, which was represented on the outer wings of this triptych. It is probable that the city is intended to represent the corrupted ideal of what Jerusalem and the Church should have been – the place of God’s presence and his peace.
The figures beneath these buildings are strange hybrids. An armoured figure with the head of a thistle, wings of a butterfly for arms and human legs, rides a creature with the legs and torso of a pig and a poring jug for a bottom A woman, riding on a giant rat has the body of a tree, a lizard’s tail, and carries a baby. Another child stands below in the water. A ghost-like courtier-demon, richly dressed in silver stands by the side of another figure in armour,
In the frozen dirty water before them are three sailing vessels. One is part-fish, another part-headless-duck, the last a tiny coracle holding a child with a large head. The fish is laden with jewels and armour, the duck is driven by a fool, blowing at a skate for its sail and with a strange figure half human, half- plant, manning the rudder. The meaning of these is unclear. In the sky fly more unusual creature-vessels. One is a cross-between a sea-monster and a stork, rather like the cannibalistic white fish in the left-hand panel.
The burning city in the background may be Hell or Purgatory, or is a reminder of the fire which almost destroyed s’-Hertogenbosch during Bosch’s early years. It is being fanned by monstrous creatures in the sky above, which may be allusions to the fires from heaven which were sent to torch the earth in Revelation 8. Parallels have also been drawn with the fire of nerve-agony endured by sufferers of ‘St. Anthony’s Fire’ or ‘Ergotism’.
These extraordinary images of the torments of earth and the temptations of the saint may seem extravagant. But they remind us of the superstitions that accompanied the Christian faith in Bosch’s day, and still do in some irrational believers. It was believed by many that God allows the Devil and demons to tempt and persecute those who are called to be saints, so that they might grow in grace through resisting outward temptation. [cf. Augustine, City of God xx:8]. This was an exaggeration of biblical teaching, based on superstition. The Epistle of James gives a much more reasonable description of temptation: “Blessed is anyone who endures temptation for. Such a one has stood the test and will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him. But no one, when tempted, should say, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil and he himself tempts no one. One is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it; then, when that desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin, and that sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death. Do not be deceived, my beloved. Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfilment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.” [James 1:12-1].
The main focus of the altarpiece is to encourage the believer to trust that the sufferings of Christ, to follow his holy example as, represented on the outer panels, and to emulate the model of his followers like St. Anthony, ultimately protects us from the excesses, powers, dangers and threats represented in the inner panels. But the mediaeval world was a dangerous one to live in: illness, disease fire, warfare, robbery social inequality and other threats meant that life-expectancy was short and suffering was common. It is understandable that both the less-educated peasants and better educated nobles, who bought Bosch’s paintings clung onto any idea that would give them hope of survival and triumph after death.
Drawing THE HEARING FOREST AND THE SEEING FIELD
c1500- 1505, Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen, Berlin. 202 cm. x 127 cm. Ink on Paper
This finished drawing, a double sided artwork, is based on the proverb ‘Campus habet oculos, silva aures’ / ‘The woods have eyes and the woods ears’, suggesting that we should not do anything in secret that we would not do in the open, since someone may be about, and God will observe.
Unlike the face drawings on the verso, which is probably by assistants this pen and ink drawing appears to be entirely by Hieronymus. Once again it has an owl at its centre, perhaps denoting the artist but primarily suggesting that God sees both in the day and night. Ears sit in the background trees implying that everywhere his senses are aware.
At the top of the drawing a legend reads: "... For poor is the mind that always uses the ideas of others and invents none of its own...". This is based on a 13th Century religious quotation. Other writing on the verso refer to the dating of the end of the world.
Several different interpretations of the drawing have been offered, including the suggestion that it is an allegorical or emblematic self-portrait. Perhaps it represents artist watching and warning the lives and work of those in his studio or household. Another dubious interpretation found, in the various elements of the picture, words that together produce the name of his city ‘ 's-Hertogenbosch’ but the contortions within this make it unlikely.
THE CONJUROR
Musée Municipal, Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Oil on Panel. 53 cm. x 65 cm.
The original of this painting is lost but it survives in several copies. The most faithful of these may be that in the Musée Municipal, Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
As an elderly gentleman greedy for gain watches the Conjuror performing the infamous the cup trick, his purse is being stolen by his well-dressed accomplice thief. As a sign of his foolishness, a frog appears from the dupe’s mouth. Behind him another man steals a woman’s jewellery from her neck or perhaps is taking to opportunity to fondle her breast while the attention of the rest of the crowd is focused elsewhere . Below the table a child pokes the gentleman with a stick to divert his attention. The features of the Conjurer imply that he is of a different race, perhaps another of Bosch’s Jewish images, as he has an owl hidden within his basket. Or perhaps the owl just signifies the presence of hidden guile rather than wisdom.
The small, harnessed dog at the Conjuror’s feet, in the shadow of the table, dressed in a fool’s cap, seems to be waiting to perform, perhaps to jump through the hoop, which leans by him, in order to provide added distractions.
The whole design appears to be a warning against gullibility and the false tricks of the world.
DEATH AND THE MISER c1500-1510
National Gallery of Art, Washington. Oil on Panel. 93 cm. x 31 cm.
This seems to have been a wing of a triptych, of which the Ship of Fools and the Allegory of Gluttony and Lust may have been the other wing. We do not know the theme of the central panel, though it has been suggested that this might have been the Marriage Feast at Cana [Jn.2:1-11], known now only through copies. The painting of the Marriage Feast at Cana was an image of love in a committed chaste relationship, moderation at the feast, and support of one’s neighbour. So it might have seemed relevant to show the opposite on the side panels.
A detailed drawing survives for this work, painted with a brush and grisaille ink. As it is so close to Bosch’s painting on panel, it may have been a visualisation for the panel painting or a commissioned finished drawing made after it.
In the scene Death is near, already entering the door of the bedchamber of the miser, with his arrow ready in his hand, as in a scene in The Seven Deadly Sins. The roof and window of this chamber resemble the nave of a church, so the picture may be making some parallel reference to the attitude of the church to wealth, or the hypocrisy of wealthy church-goers. Above the door by which Death enters, is a crucifix in the arched window, the light of which shines down on the miser. The angel attempts to point the old man’s gaze towards the crucifix to focus his reliance on Christ on the Cross. But rather than rely on the salvation he offers, the dying man seems to prefer to attempt to bargain with the devil or demon emerging from under the bed-curtain, by trying to bribe him with a bag of money. Another demon looks down from the canopy above the bed.
In the foreground the old man’s companion by the chest may be seeking his legacy early, preferring to search the miser’s store of worldly goods rather than pray for the dying man’s soul. He neglects the rosary hanging at his waist. Alternatively this figure could be a second image of the miser prior to his death-bed, since he has similar features and is weak, supported by a stick. The chest at the foot of the bed is presided over by another demon who holds up some of the wealth to him, of which the figure holds a large gold coin. He may be placing the coin into the demon’s bag, if this is a comment on or reference to the wealth of the church. Beneath the chest Bosch’s strange demonic creatures lurk. One demon emerges from under the chest holding up what may be the old man’s sealed will or pledge. If this were a scene like the later legend of Faustus it could even be the pact signed by the miser to gain his wealth. In the foreground are arranged objects, which could be the spiritual armour that would protect a Christian soldier, but which have been neglected by those who focused on wealth. They lie among other objects of wealth and vanity, including rich robes hanging over the frame which demons and other creatures inhabit. The miser and his companion would need to reject these, to rely totally on God’s grace in order to receive the blessing of salvation. Over the foreground ledge a small cowled and winged figure, probably another demon, leans his head on his hand in apparent frustration. (Perhaps the angel’s spiritual influence is working on the old man).
The theme of the picture is similar to the theme of some contemporary devotional writings, religious treatises, court poetry and images like ‘The Dance of Death’ and ‘memento mori’ on tombs, in pictures or books. It particularly resembles a work popularly reprinted in Germany and the Netherlands: ‘Ars Moriendi’ / ‘The Art of Dying Well’. This explained in narrative form that temptations and demons surround the bed of the dying, while true faith and the aid of angels can strengthen and console us to withstand the onslaught. The conclusion of the small book described the victory of the angel, carrying the soul to heaven and leaving despairing demons frustrated below. Perhaps the winged demon in the foreground is bewailing his ultimate failure.
SHIP OF FOOLS c1500-1510
Louvre, Paris. Oil on Panel. 58 cm. x 32.5 cm
This panel was originally larger. The Allegory of Gluttony and Lust, discussed below, was probably its lower section. However, a grisaille drawing in the Louvre, Cabinet des Dessins illustrates only this part of the composition. Sebastian Brandt’s ‘Das Narrenschiff’ / ‘Ship of Fools’ was first published in Basel in 1494 and ran quickly into six editions and many translation, including Latin and Dutch, but its theme was already common in Northern Europe. Even if Bosch did not know Brandt’s publication, the theme was often used in the Middle Ages. A boat had frequently been regarded as a metaphor the Church: The architectural term ‘Nave’ is based on the form of a boat, and the clergy were often referred to as responsible for bringing Christian Souls safely to the port of Heaven. The Cross was also seen as a metaphor for the keel, mast or rudder of the ship, guiding it securely, as in ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ by Guillaume de Deguilleville, published in Dutch translation in Haarlem in 1486.
In the painting the failings of the religious and secular world are critiqued, for entertainment, for moral improvement, and to show up the failings of different aspects and groups within contemporary society From the mast a pink pennant flaps, not emblazoned with a Cross, but a Turkish or Islamic Crescent. These occupants of the boat, even the members of religious Orders do not seem to care much about any religious or ethical commitments. The owl amid the foliage on the mast may be an anti-Semitic symbol, or just represent the lack of wisdom of the clerics and others on board who have abandoned their spiritual and ethical responsibilities and are joining in with the worldly celebrations together. A nun accompanies the singing on a lute, while a monk and peasant join in. Between them a man appears to inflate a bladder on a string, which may imply the fatuous air of their celebrations. Or this may be a loaf of bread which they are all attempting to nibble at the same time, rather like bobbing for apples.
It is likely that some of the imagery relates to a few, if not all of the Seven Deadly Sins, particularly Gluttony and Lust. Due to the competition between religious orders, the nobility and the wealth of the guilds in the 15th Century, members of the monastic orders in various houses were often cynically accused of dissolute behaviour. We know that there was hostility in ’s-Hertogenbosch from the town fathers who tried to limit the wealth and influence of the many religious groups, so this commission may be related to such feelings. On the table between the monk and nun is a bowl of cherries, which could refer to joining in love or the sin of Lust, as represented in iconography of the ‘Garden of Love’. The wine jug suspended over the prow of the boat, perhaps implies that love, which may have been fuelled by drink, needs to be cooled. Two naked men swim in the water alongside the ship, one reaches up for replenishment of his wine-bowl. Gluttony is represented by the peasant cutting down the roast goose tied to the mast, while another man vomits over the back of the boat that is being guided by a giant spoon as its rudder. A jester with asses ears poking through his hat, sits on a branch enjoying his drink, as does a woman near the prow, offering drink to the man cooling the wine-bottle. Amid the lower foliage on the mast we see the small head of a nun on the jester’s pole. In this picture the ‘religious’ are not regarded as ‘wise’. The foliate mast may refer to spring-time festivals, which were both religious and folk celebrations and renowned for their moral licence. The drinkers ignore the fish hanging from a branch, which would give more sustenance. If this fish represents the ICTHUS, the significance of ignoring it is even stronger.
ALLEGORY OF GLUTTONY AND LUST
c1500-1510 Yale University Gallery, New Haven. Oil on Panel. 36cm x 32 cm.
This is thought to be the lower section of the ‘Ship of Fools’ wing discussed above. An obese helmeted man sits astride a wine barrel surrounded by thinner, naked swimming figures attempting to drink from it. Closer to shore an elderly man carries away on his head a platter with a meat pie. On the shore are the discarded clothes, clogs, hats, belts and undergarments of the swimmers. From beneath the hat a wooden instrument emerges, which I have been unable to identify or decode.
On shore, beneath a canopy an amorous couple embrace as they drink from a cup. They may continue the theme of lust fuelled by drink. The roof of the tent is richly decorated with jewelled decorations, which implies that they are of a wealthier class than the revellers beyond. The foolishness of the whole scene reaches across all levels of society.
CASTING THE STONE / THE STONE OPERATION.
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 48 cm. x 35 cm.
Eight versions of this image survive, and the theme was repeated by other Netherlandish artists including Pieter Bruegel the Elder. One version belonged to Philip of Burgundy, youngest illegitimate son of Philip the Good. The figures in the Prado version may be by assistants with the landscape background by Bosch.
Like The Conjuror, it explores human gullibility. The scene shows a fictional quack operation to relieve a man of his stupidity by removing a stone of folly from his brain. The man is tied to a chair, while a monk and nun observe. The inscription reads: ‘Meester snijt die key eras, Mijne name Is lubbert das.’ / ‘Master cut away the stone, my name is Lubbert Das’ Lubbert is also the name given to other stupid characters in Dutch literature and folk plays of the time. The painting is based on a Dutch proverb implying that stupid people had stones in their heads. The stupidity included his belief that an operation like this could improve intelligence. The stupidity of the surgeon is also implied by the unusual iconography of the funnel on his head, similar to a fool’s head-dress. He extracts from the skull a flower, not a stone. The same type of flower lies on the table; it is probably a tulip, as the Dutch word for the flower may also be used to refer to foolishness and stupidity.
The picture also appears to include Bosch’s scepticism about the holiness of clerics, as the figure in monk’s habit may be blessing or anointing the victim, getting him drunk from the wine-jug to relieve the pain of the operation, or indulging in the wine himself and looking on with approval.
The woman leaning on the table has a book on her head is interpreted by some to be a nun. She is in the pose of ‘Sloth’, with her chin resting on her hand. Some commentators believe the book refers satirically to a Flemish custom of wearing amulets made out of books or texts of scripture for luck, rather like phylacteries, She may depict religious folly. We do not know her relationship to the man enduring the operation. If she is his wife, the bulging purse at her waste, may suggest that if the outcome of the operation is disastrous, she will not need to be too concerned. The patient’s wealth may be referred to in the decorative purse-belt hanging on the operating chair. His rather exaggerated bulging cod-piece may be jokingly intended to relate directly to the purse at the woman’s waste, as they are both compositionally aligned. I can find no precedent for the iconography of the book on her head, nor the funnel on the surgeon’s head. The book may refer to her failure or disinclination to read, thus increasing her folly. The figures imply than none here are scholars, and may relate to another contemporary proverb. I doubt if it refers to the far later tradition of walking with a book on the head to learn posture, as books at the time were too precious objects to drop.
Similar images of the foolishness of the world were common in Northern Europe, in literature, like Sebastian Brandt’s Ship of Fools, engravings and paintings [1494]. Images of Folly, like the courtly fool, set up a mirror to daily life and challenged people to reflect on and amend their lived, faith, values, priorities and activities. Behind the head of the bogus doctor, a gallows may suggest the ultimate outcome of foolishness, dishonesty and the failings and corruption of the world in which the figures live. The gallows point upward to the city beyond. The church towers and spires suggest that spiritual truth is more important than the money-making foolish enterprises in which these figures are engaged.
THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE FOUR LAST THINGS c1505-1510
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 120 cm x 150 cm
This work is painted on a table-top. It entered the Spanish royal collection at the Escorial in 1574 and was hung in the king’s bedroom at the king’s orders. We do not know its original owner, but it was possibly commissioned as a piece of furniture for the home of a wealthy Northern collector. It was probably designed by Bosch but completed by himself with workshop assistants. It was copied in several versions. The Prado original is mostly thought to date from Bosch’s early period, due to the flatness of some colour. It lacks his later sophistication in handling of paint. However some of the costumes may not have entered general fashion until about 1490, so it may belong to his ‘middle period’ up to 1500.
The scenes, each labelled in Latin, are arranged around a circle, formed as the eye of God, with Christ resurrected from the tomb (or in the position which he takes in representations of the ‘Mass of St. Gregory’) in the centre of the pupil. The eye is labelled: ‘Cave, cave, deus videt’ / ‘Beware, beware, God is watching’. The table is a mirror in which the world is meant to view itself as they believed God views it. The German humanist Jakob Wimpheling [14560-1528] is among several writers and preachers who used this theme.
In roundels around the pupil of the eye are ranged examples of the activities of various social classes in the world, which God scrutinises – rich and poor, monks and nuns, charlatans and fools. This wheel-like arrangements is found in other mediaeval representations of the subject, and may be intended to indicate that such sins are universal. Above and below the eye scrolls are inscribed: Above : “For they are a nation void of counsel, neither is there any understanding in them.” “O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end.” Below is a quotation from Deut.32:28-29: “I will hide my face from them; I will see what their end shall be.”
This end is represented around the corners of the table in four other roundels - ‘Four Last Things’, representing the inevitable outcome of falling into the sins: Death Judgement, Hell and Heaven or Paradise. These images may reflect the late teachings of Denis the Carthusian [1420-1471], who wrote in a local Dutch monastery towards the end of his life. They are less finely painted than the Seven Deadly Sins, so are thought to be painted by Bosch’s workshop. Surprisingly the representation of Hell is not populated by the plethora of strange beasts common in Bosch’s later works.
The scenes around the pupil are set in the contemporary landscape or urban environment:
· Gluttony - men eating greedily all that a wife brings to the table.
· Sloth - A robed man, perhaps an ecclesiastic, dozes by the fire neglecting his spiritual duties as a nun holds out a rosary to encourage him to pray.
· Lust - Several couples making love in and around a tent
· Pride - A lady admiring vainly her new headgear in a mirror which is held by a half-hidden demon, also wearing an elaborate headdress in mockery.
· Anger - Drunk men arguing and brawling outside a tavern
· Avarice - A judge accepting bribes
· Envy - A rejected lover jealously watching his more successful rival wooing a woman at her window.
ST. JOHN ON PATMOS
Gemaldegalerie, Berlin. Oil on Panel. 63 cm. x 43 cm.
Considering the wild potential for Bosch of illustrating the range of visions in the Apocalypse, his panel of St. John on Patmos is particularly reserved. The saint dressed in flesh colour, looks up from his rock. His gaze is directed by a blue angel towards a vision of the Christ-child on Mary’s lap in heaven. Mary sits on a crescent moon, linking her to the woman and her child of Revelation 12:1-16. In the distance we see what appear to be the towers of a Flemish town, so this is hardly the Aegean isle of the saint’s banishment. It may imply that we too in our environment could have as clear visions of heaven as were granted to John. However, in the scene there are signs of threat; among the sailing ships are some which are burning, as in the vision of the Second Trumpet [Rev.8:8-9], where a third of the ships of the sea are burned. The artist did not use this as an excuse to fill his composition with the horrors of Revelation. His intention seems to have been more subtle, to create a contemplative devotional image.
John is poised at the point of writing down what he receives from heaven. His pen-case with lid is at his feet, point a compositional focus towards the demonic figure behind him. Bosch was not always original and innovatory in his compositions. (The figure of Christ, the composition in his small Crucifixion painting seems to have been influenced by woodcut prints and a mural in the City Church of St. John in ’s-Hertogenbosch c1455 by his grandfather Jan van Aken.) He sometimes developed ideas from contemporary engravings and the marginal illustrations in manuscripts. St. John’s figure is almost identical to Martin Schongauer’s engraving of St. John on Patmos c.1480. This also included a wispy tree and the vision of Mary and Jesus, though in the engraving Mary is standing. The angel of Revelation and the demon are additions from Bosch’s imagination. In Schongauer’s engraving St John’s symbol of an eagle is more prominent and higher in the composition, acting as the revelatory spirit, above which the heavenly vision appears. Bosch’s St. John is watched from the foreground by a black raptor, far smaller than his traditional symbol of an eagle. It looks more like a hawk which Bosch would have seen used for hunting. Perhaps its relative smallness was intentional, to focus the viewer’s contemplative attention on St. John and his vision rather than his emblem.
The bird’s full attention and expression of distaste, is focused towards the only surreal Bosch-like element in the picture, which stands on the ground behind John. This strange hybrid, black-and-white armoured creature is part insect, part lizard or wasp,, with a human head and glasses. It may represent the evil which exiled John on Patmos, though it hardly depicts one of Domitian’s Roman Imperial military soldiers. It is more likely to represent an Apocalyptic creature. In that case, it most resembles the swarming locusts with scorpion tails, iron breast-plates and wings of the Vision of the Fifth Trumpet [Rev.9:3-11] “Then from the smoke came locusts on the earth, and they were given authority like the authority of scorpions of the earth… On their heads were what looked like crowns of gold; their faces were like human faces… they had scales like iron breastplates, and the noise of their wings was like the noise of many chariots with horses rushing into battle. They have tails like scorpions, with stingers, and in their tails is their power to harm people for five months]. but there the resemblance ends, for the creature does not fit other aspects of the description: “ In appearance the locusts were like horses equipped for battle… their hair like women’s hair, and their teeth like lions’ teeth… They have as king over them the angel of the bottomless pit; his name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek he is called Apollyon.” The figure does not swarm, but in his hand he holds a barbed iron bar, like those used for torture in many of Bosch’s visions of Hell, based on instruments used for ripping cooked meat off a roast.
This small panel is most likely to be intended as an encouragement to meditation on a vision of heaven, encouraging the contemplative viewer to consider the future and pray for a clear insight into faith and direction for life. The demonic figure is a warning, but his lack of dominance in the painting shows that Christ’s spiritual world will ultimately triumph.
CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Palacio Real, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 150 cm x 94 cm
This very concentrated composition is set against the exotic architecture of Jerusalem, as in the background of the Prado Epiphany Triptych and Brussels Christ on the Cross with Donors and Saints. Between Jerusalem and the Road to Calvary Jesus’ mother kneels weeping in the arms of John. Their isolation from the rest of the scene helps to focus contemplative attention and empathy upon these two small figures, without distraction from the larger face of Christ immediately below them in the composition. The whole composition is far more focused than the busy earlier Christ Carrying the Cross in Vienna. It seems more sensitively designed for contemplative devotion than most of Bosch’s works apart from the London ‘Christ Crowned with Thorns’. The viewer was obviously intended to empathise with Christ and his mother, but also to imitate Jesus in the patience with which he endured suffering, as Thomas a Kempis and other contemplative mystics encouraged.
The figures are condensed into a compositional triangle in the upper left of the panel, formed by the bar of the Tau Cross, while a solder walks before. The soldier looks out at us, and seems the most portrait-like of all Bosch’s figures. Christ alone occupies the lower half of the composition, which focuses attention on him. Like the London Christ Crowned with Thorns, Jesus is the only figure whose features seem patient and calm, with a sense of at peace and wholeness, despite his suffering. As with the Vienna Christ Carrying the Cross, Jesus’ steps endure extra torture, through spiked blocks hanging to bang on his ankles and soles. All the other characters in the crowd seem distorted in character and physiognomy in some way. The soldier, while a handsomely painted portrait, has cold eyes and a firm-set jaw. Simon of Cyrene, portrayed as an elderly man in white, determinedly helps to carry the weight of the base of the Cross. He is being commanded reprimanded or accused by a bearded elderly man in blue, with a ‘besague’ armour-plate on his shoulder, like that of the figure in black in the National Gallery’s Christ Crowned with Thorns.
The crowd seem to represent different facets of society, but none appear to be poor. Nobles, merchants, visitors in foreign headdresses, two more soldiers behind the crowded heads and a bald figure whipping Jesus, who is dressed more like a noble or priest than as a soldier. Only Christ himself is dressed in a in drab, humble colour, the brown of a Franciscan, while Simon of Cyrene’s white robes suggest his innocence within the scene.
LAST JUDGEMENT 1505
Akademie der bildenden Kunst, Vienna. Oil on Panel. Central Panel 164 cm. x 127 cm. Wings 167 cm x 60 cm.
A triptych of this subject was commissioned by Philip the Handsome in 1504 at the price of 36 guilders. The main panel of that commission was described as being 9 foot high and 11 ft. wide. But that was probably not the triptych in Vienna, which is of a slightly smaller size, though still the largest of Bosch’s surviving works. Philip’s altarpiece is probably lost, though some believe the panel in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich to be a fragment of the original. The Vienna triptych may be a replica on a smaller scale or it may be a completely different work for a different commission.
Outer Wings
The saints in grisaille on the outer face of the wings of the triptych suggest that it may well have been for the Habsburg dynasty or a noble Flanders patron. Sadly the saddle-shaped coats of arms in the arches below are empty, so do not help us identify the patron. The figures represent St. James the Great, patronal Saint of Spain, and St Bavo, revered in Holland and patron saint of Ghent, where Charles, Philip’s son and heir had been born in 1500. (This saint has also been possibly identified as St Hippolytus, who shares with Bavo the symbol of a falcon.) St James walks as a pilgrim through the landscape carrying a cloak on his staff. St Bavo, in more contemporary dress, stands in an arch, giving to the poor, the widow and the orphans from his purse, with urban houses in the background. He holds his falcon on his arm. These calm grisaille images are quieting, while the open triptych is a riot of colour and action, depicting the First and Last Things.
Left-Hand Wing
The depiction of Paradise on the left wing shows, in the foreground, the creation of Eve, through whom the Fall was thought to have come, the Temptation to eat the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and the Expulsion from Eden. Above is depicted the Expulsion of the Rebel Angels from heaven falling from the clouds below a glowing vaguely painted figure of God the Father, crowned with a triple crown, similar to that of a mediaeval pope. The fall of human beings is being paralleled with that of the angels, whose leader, in legend envied Adam’s relationship with God so caused his fall. One legend popular in the Middle Ages suggested that God created Adam and Ever to fill the earth and replace the emptiness caused by the Rebel Angels’ fall from grace. The figure creating Eve in the foreground is closer in resemblance to the figure of Christ in glory in the central panel. Noticeably his features are very similar to those of Adam, suggesting that he is ‘created in his image’.
Central Panel
The imagery of heaven in the upper section of the central panel is less imaginatively detailed than the depictions of the judged Earth below and Hell in the right-hand wing. It leaves more to the worshipper’s or viewer’s imagination. Scenes of the bliss of heaven are hardly described in scripture and are less easy to imagine and visualise than scenes of suffering. Perhaps, as Thomas Aquinas suggested, the viewer is intended to trust the promise of heaven rather than imagine it too closely. The foreground of the left wing would suggest that we await a return to the Paradise relationship with God, which was lost when Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden. In his depiction of heaven Bosch suggests bliss more by painting heavenly light around Christ, following Aquinas’ imagery of heaven as a place where the redeemed are bathed in the divine light of God’s presence. We see only a handful of souls enjoying this light, whereas most of the central panel and the right hand panel depict various forms of temptation to evil and the punishments for them. In a panel in Venice from a lost triptych, the light is shown as a vortex towards which souls are raised by the angels. In the central panel, few find their way from the judgements and temptations of the world below to the more distant view of a handful of blessed around Christ’s throne in the upper segment of the picture. This reflects the contemporary belief that in judgement a far greater number would be condemned than saved. Most of the central panel is devoted to the scenes of degradation on earth which Christ is judging from above. The condemnation for these extends onto the right wing.
Below heaven, in the central panel the majority of humankind, having indulged in false practices, are being judged and punished accordingly. Figures are mutilated, burnt by fire, imprisoned in torturous cages, tread spiked wheels which run engines of torture, are fried in pans, roasted on spits, drowned and boiled in barrels, beaten impaled on wheels or thorn trees. Some of the weapons of the demonic army resemble engines of war: cannons, early tanks, battering rams, impaling lances and blades. One wonders whether Goya’s later series of prints ‘Disasters of War’ or other imaginative horrors were partly influenced by viewing similar works in the Spanish Royal collection.
As in many mediaeval descriptions of Hell, each sin appears to be given its own punishment, though may cannot be precisely identified. We see Gluttony fed by slithering snakes or made to constantly drink from a huge barrel, A Slothful man is endlessly carried around on the back of a demon in a basket. The Lustful are ogled by monsters, impaled, sucked at and ridden by toads; Anger is beaten by demons. Many other figures are impaled, tortured or abused in violently imaginative ways that presumably suggest their besetting earthly sins.’
Right hand Panel
In the right hand panel Bosch portrayed the damned descending to the pit of hell to contrast the rise of soul in the central panel. The distance may represent the mountain of purgatory from which flames emerge. In front of this a ship disgorges people in to the water who emerge naked and wade towards the mountain.
The fires of hell are bursting through the surface of the Earth in places, setting the background buildings of the environment in silhouette. They resemble a war-torn land or the imagery of the 13th Century hymn ‘Dies Irae’ / ‘The Wrath of God’, of the world dissolving in glowing ashes. Around this desolate landscape many smaller figures rise from graves or receive their punishment in groups rather like prisoner-of-war.
The depictions of the horrors of Hell might have been inspired by contemporary writers such as Jan van Ruysbroek, Dionysius van Rijkel, The Vision of Tnugdalus, or Henry Suso. They are emotive, conforming to Thomas Aquinas call for religious painting in churches not just to instruct, but to “stir devout passion.” William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum’ stated his belief that the human spirit could be more moved by viewing an image than through scripture [Lib.i, chap. iii, sect.4].
Figures in the picture are in many different proportions, some huge, like the green figure in the centre right breathing fire and the sorcerer above him. In the centre a crawling figure in green with a dark cowl and black lion-like face has an amorphous body. The black demons are depicted in many different forms and textures
The excessive emphasis on judgement and punishments is far from the focus of modern Christian preaching and teaching, where more emphasis is placed on God’s grace and our positive call to begin to build God’s Kingdom now and to enjoy and anticipate salvation. Modern Christianity is more embarrassed about speaking of Judgement and Hell, particularly because of the excesses of emphasis in past Church preaching on flights of fancy about judgement as though works like these by artists like Bosch would be literal. James Joyce expressed his sarcasm at this emphasis in writing the Jesuit Hell-fire sermon of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
THE HAYWAIN
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel, Central Panel 135 cm x 100 cm
Monastery of San Lorenzo, El Escorial. Oil on Panel. Central Panel 140 x 100 cm. Wings 147 cm. x 66 cm.
Two versions of The Haywain survive in the Escorial (after 1496) and the Prado (1508). The dating and authorship of both paintings have been disputed, as there are discrepancies in style, which lead critics to believe that they are both by assistants. Both are in poor condition, having been heavily restored at various times and the wings of both appear to be by workshop assistants.. The Escorial version is more carefully painted and detailed than most of Bosch’s work. The Prado version, by contrast, is more heavily and thickly painted than is common in Bosch’s other panels. Another version bought by the widow of Hendrick III of Nassau-Breda was lost during its original delivery.
Like Casting the Stone, the main panel is based on a Netherlandish proverb. The work includes many themes grouped around the ideas of sin and redemption. Around the hay wagon are many scenes figures indulging themselves without thought that God might be viewing and assessing (rather like the theme of The Table of the Seven Deadly Sins). This metaphorical image interprets the wealth and pleasures of the world as a hay-cart. Later the image influenced several Flemish engravings of about 1550, which use a similar metaphor.
Closed Wings
On the closed outer wings, A traveller with a journeyman’s basket on his back (perhaps a pilgrim, a journey-man-worker, a merchant or just a man on his travels), fends-off a dog with the heavy butt of his staff. A surviving fragment of another work [c1515-16] discussed below as ‘The Pilgrim / Wayfarer’ also shows the same figure. This could be a representation of any of us on the pilgrimage of life. He is about to cross a bridge. .In the middle-background of this scene a group have robbed and stripped a man and are in the process of tying him to a tree. In another field a shepherd and his wife dance together to another man’s bagpipes and neglect their responsibility to their sheep. In the far distance is a gibbet and cross show the inevitable end for sinners, but may also be intended to point the viewer’s mind towards Calvary. In the immediate foreground the traveller’s staff point towards an animal skeleton, probably a sheep.
Left-Hand Wing
When open, the triptych should be read from left to right as was Bosch’s Triptych of the Last Judgement. Like the left panel in that triptych, the scenes represent the Creation of Eve and the Fall, but in the reverse of the earlier triptych. Here the Expulsion from Eden is in the foreground, Eating the Fruit of the Tree of Good and Evil in the middle and the Creation of Eve in the distance. This makes sense, since Adam and Eve’s family then expand to populate the earth in the central panel. Above the image of Eden, the Fall of the Rebel Angels appears more like a swarm of vicious, monstrous insects invading the earth below. According to St Augustine, when the angels fell they lost their beauty and became monstrous.
Central Panel
In the central panel many groups of figures from different sections of society are shown indulging in all the broad activities of earth. The heavily laden harvest wagon, represents the full bounty of Creation. It is followed by a procession of important figures on horseback. They are led by an Emperor and a Pope (identified by some scholars as Alexander VI), closely followed by a prince with a monk as his advisor and a richly dressed noble. Behind are members of court and figures from various religious orders. All these, as the owners of land, its wealth and its bounty, should be responsibly stewarding the resources of the world, not ignoring sin or remaining proudly aloof. Immediately in front of this procession is a group of soldiers and other religious figures, including one in the dress of an Eastern patriarch or Jewish High Priest. He is posed like Christ facing by his persecutors. Another similarly clad figure stumbles over a ladder and falls under the front wheel of the cart. His pose also resembles the iconography of the fallen Christ being led to Calvary. Those leading him and helping to draw the cart are a wild array of hybrid creatures: a fish with legs, a human with the head of a mouse, a man with tree branches for limbs, a cat in a priest’s cowl, and several other strangely masked or grinning monsters.
The scene before the cart contains many scenes of vice. The ‘great and the good’ processing with the cart should be preventing this and acting responsibly as the leaders of the land, but they seem oblivious to what they are witnessing. Most of the figures around the harvest wagon are grabbing at lumps of hay, as if enjoying what is reaped and gleaned from the earth. But they are also acting licentiously. They hay may be a metaphor for the worthlessness of worldly possessions. A Netherlandish song of about 1470 used the haystack as metaphor for Creation, which God had stacked up for the benefit of humankind. But it also described all worldly wealth as: ‘al hoy’ / all hay’. This implies that what we desire to retain for ourselves is ultimately worthless. From 1563 records survive of a religious carnival procession in Antwerp featuring a hay-cart ridden by a demon labelled ‘Deceitful’, from which people plucked hay to play out the meaninglessness of possessions. This may have been influenced by Bosch’s work or they might both have been influenced by a common contemporary tradition in plays or tableaux. A similar allegory is also found in Petrarch’s Triumphs, and is represented in several other contemporary works, including tapestries and engravings.
The scene includes various sins, but focuses particularly on Avarice and the desire for physical gain. From this general self-centred sin, many other sins and vices develop, as described in Laurent Gallus’ King’s Dream’ [1279] or Guillaume de Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ [1330-35]. On top of the wagon of hay ride a group of lovers. One young noble serenades his love with a lute, while his music is being attentively pointed-out by a younger man, perhaps a music tutor. Behind them is a less courtly image of love in a more rustic couple who embrace amorously, spied on by an old man from behind the bush. Out of the tree emerges a golden bottle on a stick, implying that an elixir of love, or more likely ‘drink’ is fuelling this amorous adventure. On the other side of the tree an owl of neglected wisdom is persecuted by birds and below him a winged demon plays through his elongated nose the real tune that is igniting their passions. This demonic figure may be the character of ‘Deceitful’ from the Antwerp procession, described in the last paragraph.
Below the wagon, on the ground, monks and a woman brawl, a straw-hatted man holds a knife at the throat of another on the ground, a woman attacks an obese man with a knife, while he wields a stick at her. Beside them a man reclines with his head under the sumptuous skirts of a woman. In the foreground some of the scenes seem at first innocuous. A top-hatted man leads a child, while carrying a baby in his hood; two women, one noble, the other a servant or nurse greet, in the iconographic pose of the Visitation of Mary and Elizabeth. Another nurse beside them bathes a baby, as in the iconography of the Nativity. However each of these elements of the scene may well represent the abandoning of responsibility for children, as another baby clings neglected behind the noble-woman’s dress. In the centre a quack doctor has set up a stall with potions and pseudo-scientific diagrams, and is treating a helpless victim. His purse is filled with straw, implying the illegitimacy of his treatment and the meaninglessness of any wealth obtained by it. To the right a group of nuns fill sacks with hay. One (the Church gathering in its wealth) holds her rosary while an obese monk neglects his own rosary in order to ask her for a drink. (This resembles the scene of Sloth in Bosch’s Seven Deadly Sins.) Another nun holds a rope attached to the belt of a blue-robed fool playing bagpipes, suggesting that all happening here is foolishness, even the gleanings of the Church.
Only the angel on the cart prays and draws attention to the Man of Sorrows in the clouds of the heavens above, who is raising his hands in judgement. However none of those active in the scene pay any attention to the angel’s example and encouragement towards piety. They are too involved in enjoying the surface pleasures of earth.
Like The Garden of Earthly Delights, this painting appears to have been designed to be viewed close-up by a connoisseur, rather than just from a distance at an ecclesiastical altar. It may have been intended for a private chapel, where it could be viewed and considered in greater detail, or a secular room, where it might have acted as a moral reminder, like a ‘memento mori’.
Right-Hand Wing
The scene of Hell on the right-hand wing is simpler than the Vienna Last Judgement., perhaps to balance the simplicity of the composition of Eden in the left-hand wing. A ruined building is silhouetted against the red flames of Hell or Purgatory in the distance. Below this, naked figures struggle in water, as in the Vienna panel. Demons are helping to construct an enormous round tower, perhaps intended to represent the ‘castle-keep of Hell. This may be intended to represent an infernal counter-part to the ‘heavenly mansions’ promised to the faithful in John 14:2, which Gregory the Great had described as built of ‘golden stones created by good deeds on earth’. Here it rises, strengthened by evil deeds. It has also been interpreted as being a symbol of the Pride of the condemned. Such Pride was at the core of the tower of Babel, attempting but failing to reach heaven by worldly means and ambition. Now the demons are building their own imperial palace or fortress, but it will not be able to withstand God’s judgement.
Below the tower is a lecher being sucked by a demonic toad. Demons drive a naked figure carrying a chalice and riding a cow over a bridge. In the mediaeval vision of Hell by Tundale, such a figure is tormented for having stolen a cow on earth, by being forced to ride across a precariously narrow bridge over the mouth of Hell. On that bridge were others of the damned who had committed sacrilegious acts and robbed churches, which may account for the inclusion of the chalice In the foreground Bosch painted Greed, tortured by being consumed by a monstrous, obese fish. Another man, perhaps representing Bestiality, is being attacked by dogs and a creature with antlers at both ends, pursued by a large hunter-demon which seems to be using a skinny man as a prop to direct his spear. The man has been eviscerated and gutted like a hunter’s trophy..
The whole triptych is full of disparate detail, but its main message is clear, to emphasise that pursuing worldly pleasure is dehumanising and leads to sin and judgement.
THE PILGRIM / WAYFARER
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 71.5 cm. roundel.
On surface-reading this appears to be one of Bosch’s simplest images, but it is also enigmatic. The figure is a reworking of the figure represented on the outer wings of The Haywain, but his identity and the purpose of the image are uncertain. Beside his spoon the pelt of a cat, (not present in The Haywain) hangs from his journey-man’s basket. He may make a living partly by such merchandise as catskins were used in popular medicine for protection against rheumatism. But the skin could also be a symbol of the futility of passion (like a ‘tom-cat’) or a hint that human life is precarious, as cats could be signs of bad luck. The knife at the man’s belt is more prominently displayed than in the Haywain. This could be for protection or for his itinerant work. The awl with waxed thread, prominently displayed in his hat suggests that he may make or mend shoes as part of his living. He fends off the brindled dog, which growls at him rather than snapping at his stick in the former painting. The role of a travelling peddler, tinker or journeyman, though common in that society, was despised. They were often considered to be swindlers or ruffians, and were banned from some Netherlandish towns. However the figure here seems to have a more iconic meaning, as though we are to look at him to consider the morality and precarious nature of life and journeying.
The traveller appears to have just passed a tavern and be looking back hesitantly. The jug displayed on a pole on the roof of the building identifies it as an inn. It is not apparent whether he has stopped there, though his expression seems apprehensive, yet with a slight smile. It is similarly unclear whether he is waving his cap at the woman who watches him through the window, accompanied by another woman in the shadows of the room. Is he allured by the possibilities or temptations there, waving goodbye or resisting the temptations offered? The house does not appear particularly alluring, but his ripped clothes imply that he may not be able to afford to be choosy. The building is in disrepair, with leaky broken thatch; unhinged shutters hanging loose and the windows have broken panes of glass. It appears to be a house of ill-repute, judging from the armoured soldier giving a woman a last embrace in the doorway and a peasant urinating around the corner. Outside hangs the sign of a duck or deformed swan, perhaps denoting that this is a house of foolishness or vanity. The caged magpie by the door may suggest that this could also be a place of entrapment and evil potential. The magpie’s mate looks on and awaits the traveller by the gate. The dove on the edge of its cote in the gable of the inn may be threatened by a hawk in the sky above - innocence threatened by sin. (In many Netherlandish paintings the hawk may also represent Christ hunting down sin, but there the victims of the hawk are usually a duck or other less innocent birds than a dove.)
In the courtyard a cockerel stands on a mound of grain in front of the empty barrel, which may be its coop. The family of pigs eating at a trough has led some to interpret the traveller as the Prodigal Son in the process of returning to his father after resorting to feeding with swine. The painting was given that title for many years. But this interpretation is probably not the case. He is not in as dishevelled and ragged as is common in most images of the Prodigal Son, and no other symbols in the painting refer to the biblical parable.
The traveller’s poverty is noted by his ripped trousers and odd shoes. A popular Netherlandish expression: “op een slof en een schoen” / “on a slipper and a shoe” alluded to being “down at heel”. However, a sexual connotation is also possible as “to wear out one’s shoes” and “to wear slippers” / “auslatcshen”, in popular German of the time could mean to have excessive illicit relations. It is suggested that he may have dressed to depart in a hurry. His bandaged calf implies that he has been wounded through some troubles on his journey. The meaning of his expression is far from clear: we do not know whether he regrets passing or is leaving the inn? Is he relieved to have passed without incident? Is he perhaps considering turning aside from his journey to enter the inn? Or have his wounds been received at the inn, perhaps from the soldier at the door? His cap points him forward, and the awl stuck prominently in it suggests that he is travelling off to make his living.
His journey ahead seems far from easy. The bull and the magpie at the gate imply that there may be threats ahead. Above him on the dead branch of a tree an owl watches, but it is not clear whether it is watching him or the Great Tit pecking below it, which it may be preparing to attack (another symbol of possible further threats to the traveller. Whatever the case, the picture suggests that on his future journey he will face difficulties, temptations, dangers and possible evils. The gate to the field ahead of him may have further spiritual connotation: Perhaps it represents Christ as the Gate through which one can find shelter or pasture [Jn.10:9], the gate to the ‘narrow way, which leads to life’ [Matt.7:13-14; Lk.13:24]; the gate to eternal life into which the righteous shall enter [Psalm 118:20] or the gateway to the path that may lead to destruction or Hell. Prominent above the gate, in the distance Bosch has placed the pole and wheel on which the bodies of the executed were displayed. Further on is a church or fortified house which might represent the security of a spiritual alternative for him.
Dangers were common to any contemporary traveller or pilgrim in Bosch’s time and ’s-Hertogenbosch was on a regular international trade route. The scenes of robbery, debauched pleasure and dangers to life in the background of the Pilgrim/Wayfarer on the closed panels of The Haywain represent some of these dangers. Similar problems were included in writings about the spiritual challenges to humankind in the tales of ‘Elckerlijc or Jedermann (the Netherlandish and German equivalents to ‘Everyman’). On a spiritual level the metaphor of human life as a ‘pilgrimage’ was considered in works like Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ or the mystical German Dominican writings of Henry Suso [c1295-1366] (also known as Heinrich von Berg / Heinrich Seuse, who wrote under the name ‘Amandus’). The latter described human beings as “miserable beggars who wander wretchedly in our sorrowful exile.” (This could have become the conclusion of those who came to their senses after the pleasures of The Garden of Earthly Delights have lost their thrill.)
Whatever the precise interpretation, it is evident that the panel suggests that the pitfalls that beset us on the journey of life are spiritual as well as physical, so our protection needs to be spiritual, prayerful and watchful. In a similar way to the painting of St Christopher, this picture was probably intended to encourage such prayers.
THE GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS.
Prado: Madrid. Oil on Panel. Central panel 220 cm. x 195 cm. Side panels 220 cm x 97 cm.
The complicated yet unified composition and the sophisticated universally-embracing iconography of this triptych suggests that it was painted late in Bosch’s mature career, sometime after 1500. It is Bosch’s masterpiece and most famous work, though many of its precise references and meanings remains obscure. We cannot be sure who commissioned it: many noble Burgundian families had a taste for unusual and often obscure allegories. The rhetorical schools of Flanders influenced many courtiers in Malines, Brussels and further afield.. Shortly after Bosch’s death, we know that in 1517 it was owned by the connoisseur collector Hendrick III of Nassau-Breda in his sumptuously decorated palace of Brussels. It was describes there by an Italian visitor, Antonio de Beatis. After Hendrick’s death and that of his son it passed to his nephew, William of Orange. The Duke of Alba then confiscated it. In 1591 Philipp II gained it from the Alba estate. Through all its various ownerships it was obviously treasured, as it is in far better condition than many of Bosch’s other large paintings.
Outer Panels:
The closed outer panels show the world on the evening of the third day of Creation, with the land emerging from the waters, surrounded by the firmament and light and darkness. At the top is a quotation from Ps.33:9 “Ipse dicit et facta sunt, Ipse mandavit et create sunt”: “For he spoke and it was done; he commanded and it stood fast”. Next to this inscription is a small representation of God the Father overseeing all. The firmament is represented as a globe shining like glass or a water-droplet. Dark clouds open in the firmament, nearest the figure of God the Father, shining light within sphere, illuminating the waters and waves from which the earth has emerged. The earth is a flat round plate, suspended between the upper firmament and the waters beneath, broken by sharp mineral outcrops and rolling hills. On its surface trees and strange exotic growths are already forming, which are fully realized in colour in the inner panels.
Left-Hand Wing:
The inner panel of the left-hand wing depicts Paradise in bright colour: the greyness of outer panel of the earth is brought alive by the light of God as the triptych opens. The centre of the scene depicts the Creation of Eve, but unlike Bosch’s other triptychs this does not include the Fall and the Expulsion from Paradise. Perhaps these are merely implied in the subject of the whole triptych. This world around Adam and Eve is populated by beautifully detailed creatures, including strange imaginative birds, reptiles and animals, as well as creatures obviously derived from Bestiary illustrations – an elephant, giraffe, unicorn and porcupine. Out of the water on the right strange monstrous creatures emerge, one with three heads, another with bloated egg-like body. These may be unidentified monsters from the bestiary, but to modern post-evolutionary-theory eyes, they remind us of primaeval life emerging from the waters, about which Bosh, of course would have no clue. For him they probably referred to the Genesis account of Creation. But their deformity may suggest the mediaeval belief that when the Rebel Angels fell, they not only became monsters themselves, but corrupted, interbred with and distorted God’s Creation. The pink rock onto which they climb may be intentionally meant to resemble the profile of a human face. In the distance another strange-shaped pink rock is spiralled by a huge flock of birds. A procession of black birds (possibly crows) enters a cave in the base of the rock then emerges as the spiralling flock in flight.
At the centre of the water is the fountain of life that God has formed to nurture creation, of which the fountain-like pavilions in The Garden of Earthly Delights panel seem like heavy parodies. All the trees behind the Creator are fruitfully laden with red, shiny fruit. There seems to be no reason why Adam and Eve should need to bother with the fruit of the exotic tree of life growing behind Adam’s back, which looks more like an Aloe or member of a cactus family. Enough has been provided for all.
It may not be too far-fetched to interpret the scene behind the Creation of Eve as a progressive depiction of the products of the 6 days of Creation: air, rocks, plants, creatures within the waters, birds, animals, the fountain and garden of Eden, then creation of Adam and Eve surrounded by the creatures they were to name. In the central panel this creation has gone topsy-turvy, with large creatures dominating human beings, the fruit and pursuits of the earth being abused, the fountain of life being turned into a love-nest theme park. The Creator looking on replaced by sensuality. Some of the creatures created by God are being ridden or used by the humans but others have turned to control or even persecute humans. This is a reverse of the mediaeval idea of the natural order of Creation, based on Genesis 1:28-30 and 2:15, where humans should rule over and use nature while stewarding of God’s gifts responsibly.
In the Creation wing Adam looks enticingly beyond God, in the form of Christ, towards Eve, who, for the moment kneels demurely before her Creator. It is perhaps not accidental that behind her hand are a warren of rabbits, which implies, in terms of mediaeval Bestiary symbolism, that humankind is designed to reproduce and “fill the earth” [Gen.1: 28], but that sexuality will turn humankind’s attention away from the spiritual towards the sensual. This appears to be a message of the rest of the Earthly Delights triptych. St. Augustine believed that the Fall took place at the exact moment when Adam turned his eyes away from God and focused on woman as his companion, which appears to be what Bosch has depicted here. The population of this world of earthly delights have all turned their eyes away from God and are focused on enjoying, with their companions, the delights of the world. Creation was designed for them to enjoy and use but human sin perspective has put greater emphasis and focus on the Creation rather than the Creator. The triptych could almost be a visual commentary on Romans 1:18-32:
18“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of those who by their wickedness suppress the truth. 19 For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. 20 Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; 21 for though they knew God, they did not honour him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. 22 Claiming to be wise, they became fools; 23 and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling a mortal human being or birds or four-footed animals or reptiles. 24 Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the degrading of their bodies among themselves, 25 because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.
26 For this reason God gave them up to degrading passions. Their women exchanged natural intercourse for unnatural, 27 and in the same way also the men, giving up natural intercourse with women, were consumed with passion for one another. Men committed shameless acts with men and received in their own persons the due penalty for their error. 28 And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind and to things that should not be done. 29 They were filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, covetousness, malice. Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, craftiness, they are gossips, 30 slanderers, God-haters, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, rebellious toward parents, 31 foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. 32 They know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die—yet they not only do them but even applaud others who practice them.”
Central Panel:
Many of the details of the central panel is esoteric and not easy to interpret. The scene is is brightly lit, painted in strong, stimulating colours, without shadows, perhaps intended deliberately to entice the eye, as the subjects and activities are shown to have enticed the inhabitants of the earth. The details of flowers, pavilion-like buildings and fruit gleam as if to stimulate the senses. Different groups of naked men and women, in the prime of life frolic throughout the panels. There appear to be no children or older people, but include figures from different races: three very dark-skinned figures are equally spaced in the foreground. On the back of the mallard a white man and a black woman kiss, perhaps watched jealously by the man on the back of the goldfinch who seems resigned to despair. It has been suggested that the hairy couple in a cave in the immediate lower right-hand corner may be Adam and Eve, the progenitors of all this activity. The figure behind them has been interpreted by some as Noah in whose time humanity was given a second-chance, after the flood of destruction, before humans returned to the self-centred ways depicted here.
Many of the figures touch each other, sometimes erotically or in play, a few stand on their hands gymnastically; others are feeding or being fed on the exotic fruits lying around them. The whole scene seems one of surface joy and active pleasure. The erotic allusions are particularly the reason for some commentators trying to relate Bosch to the unorthodox, loving practices and ideas of the Brethren of the Free Spirit or ‘Adamites’ The number of naked figures holding flowers and engaging in ‘love-ins’ does resemble the hippy, ‘free-love’ movements of the 1960s. However the scene also contains many disquieting details which make it fairly obvious that Bosch did not intend this to represent innocent enjoyment of pleasure, as some scholars have suggested. The Mediaeval mind-set primarily considered that since the fall nakedness was shameful. The imagery and particularly the Judgement panel imply that this represents a wide variety of the vices of humankind. Many of the figures are in close proximity to fish or other objects, either carrying them or on their heads. Being out of water, these fish may be dead or dying; they are ‘out of their intended natural element’, just as the humans represented are living out of contact with the spiritual world intended as the element for their true thriving and fulfilment. The exotic fruit the people eat may represent the expansion of humanity’s tendency to indulge in the forbidden fruit, which caused their original expulsion from Paradise.
Some figures are among birds of enormous comparative proportions. The detailed observation of all the creatures is superb, demonstrating that Bosch worked closely from nature as well as the imagination. In the centre foreground a man sitting in an enormous pot and holding a pair of cherries (symbols of being united love), is fed a berry by a duck. This is probably a symbol of the passing on of foolishness, since he neglects the naked woman standing behind him. The pair of cherries on her head implies that she would be his ideal partner. A man and a kingfisher ride in on the back of a mallard, whose mate swims nearby, surrounded by a crowd of men. This may refer to the ease by which we follow foolishness. In the centre left the pair of Hoopoes, Kingfisher, Woodpecker, Robin and Goldfinch all have benign attributes which relate to Christ in the mediaeval Bestiary. These faithful qualities may be being neglected by those indulging in more earthly pleasures. Each bird is ridden by a man, some with strange bulb-like headgear. A depressed man sits on the back of the Goldfinch, head-in-hands, while the Goldfinch seems to inadvertently feed three demons who separate him from a couple making love in the water. The couple, in their desire for one another, neglect to help a man in distress, perhaps even drowning in a barrel behind them. The imagery of the cask may imply that he is a drunkard.) The Jay and Owl suggest more of a threat, as they are negative Bestiary symbols of predating and ‘those who prefer darkness to light’. The owl may be a key to the meaning of the whole: “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” [Jn.9:19-21]
The colouring of the panel implies that the scene is full of light but this is enjoyment of sensuous and sensual light and colour rather than spiritual light. At the centre of the Fountain of Life in the Paradise wing, an owl emerges from a hole. In the centre left of the Central Panel, a man embraces an owl. Centre-right another owl sits on a transparent pink egg, covering the heads and torsos of three entangled couples dancing blindly with fruit. This probably relates to the scene immediately behind them, where couples pick fruit from trees and picnic together. As these fruiting trees are so similar to those behind Adam and Eve in the left-hand panel, that they probably relate to the fruit of Paradise. To modern eyes the three look more like a many-armed Hindu god, but are probably a parody of the dance of the Three Graces in the garden of love, as described by Hesiod and Seneca. These are often representing as dancing with fruit or fruit-sized balls, as here. Before them a naked man on his back struggles to offer the same fruit to a naturalistically-sized Falcon sitting on his foot. The Jay, towards the centre of the panel, appears to be feeding a crowd of bathers rather like its young in a nest; he could be either fattening them up, or have lost his tendency to predation and now be as benign as the smaller song-birds . Near him a finely detailed butterfly, which may be a reference to the human soul. feeds from a thistle. One possible interpretation of this reversal in the proportions of nature could be that humanity, by its licentious behaviour has lost the moral dominance and superiority, which it once was considered to have within God’s creation. Now even the ‘bird-brained’, the hunted, and creatures once used for eating have gained dominance and value. In the modern world, aware of the ecological imbalance created by human neglect and abuse of the world, this interpretation is appealing.
Hesiod described a ‘Golden Age’ when beasts and people lived together in peace, enjoying the fruitful abundance which the earth provided. Bosch’s classical education may have meant that he knew this source, or it may have ben suggested by a patron’s intellectual advisors. But almost universal mediaeval ideas of the shame of nakedness and the superiority of virginity over sexual activity lead us to assume that Bosch is not depicting an innocent utopian ideal. As the painting is the centre of a triptych representing the loss of Paradise and the torments of Hell, this garden of love must be intended as a warning, especially against the sins of Lust and self-indulgence. The scene of Eden on the left-hand wing makes it obvious that this central panel is not a just depiction of an idyllic world untouched by sin. The cat killing a mouse or rat beside the Creation of Eve shows that the Fall is just about to happen or has begun to take place. In the mediaeval Bestiary the cat and mouse could also be symbolic of Christ hunting-down sin. A cat is also present in The Garden of Earthly Delights rising on the strange shell or scorpion-like creature carried into the circular ride by a group of men in the centre-right. Unlike his Last Judgement Triptych and more like the Haywain Triptych, Bosch shows that not all sin or evil is ugly, in fact most of the ‘delights’ in this picture are enticing.
In the middle-distance a circle of many men ride around a round pool of bathing naked women. They are mounted on a variety of creatures, horses, deer, camels, a unicorn, lion, pig and gryphon. Some of these creatures may represent the animal appetites of the riders, as riding was also sometimes used as a metaphor for sexual activity. Ibis, which also ride on the heads of the women, join in the circular ride, on the back of a goat and storks on the back of a boar. Some men carry emblems on poles, others try to impress by their prowess in riding with no-hands or in acrobatic positions. Above them soar other birds, while flying higher are stranger winged figures. Throughout the painting figures make love in a variety of ways, groupings and settings – in an organic bubble growing from an exotic flower; a muscle-shell, inside half-eaten exotic fruit, beneath a transparent umbrella, inside exotic tents, beneath canopies, hats or fruit.
‘The Garden of Love’ or the spiritual ‘Rose Garden’ are used as symbols in many mediaeval writings and artworks. Either was often used as a metaphor for living in the spiritual presence of God. It was also an image in popular poems of courtly love, as in ‘The Romance of the Rose’, originally written in the 13th Century. This was known in translations throughout Europe, including the Netherlands. Here courtly love was allegorically related to viewing the beauty of flowers or picking and savouring their scent. Bosch’s allegory interprets this far more physically and sensuously. In some manuscripts of ‘City of God’, St. Augustine’s criticism of the orgies of Ancient Rome were illustrated by nudes cavorting in a garden. Here Bosch’s image seems to be representing false ideas of Paradise.
Many of the fruits probably represent the sweetness and sensuality of temptations to pleasure. A group in the water, and those in the centre foreground enjoy grapes, while one man has the juice of the bunch squeezed into his mouth. Cherries, as mentioned earlier refer to being paired in love. Strawberries are the scent and sweet sharpness of pleasure. One male lover, near the owl-dance, appears to have a large sloe or grape over his head. The more exotic fantasy fruit probably relate to the exoticism of the setting, as in Bosh’s visionary fruit in his representations of Palestine. Some of the symbols have been identified as relating to contemporary Netherlandish sayings, popular slang, songs and proverbs. Fish were sometimes referred to as phallic symbols, or of smelling like sex. Plucking fruit and flowers sometimes referred euphemistically to the act of sex. It has been suggested that the hollow fruit may be a play on the similarity between two old Dutch words “schel” and “schil” which could mean the ‘rind’ or ‘shell’ of a fruit or to struggle with another person, including quarrelling, wrangling and wrestling in the act of love. Discarded shells of fruit might also be symbolic of feeling ultimately unsatisfied as a result of the worthlessness of the attempt at finding fulfilment solely in sensuous or sensual behaviour, outside a spiritual context.
Several mediaeval proverbs described a world turned upside-down, which may be why a number of the figures in the picture are upside-down or the morality in the scenes seems reversed, and figures and objects seem out of scale. Many of the small scenes within the painting seem to be allegories of unchastity and moral decline which may be the intention of the whole panel. The sensuous delights of the world in the central panel are being acted out within the perspective of the two wings - God’s original paradisal intention for humankind and God’s judgement upon the world’s foolishness in following its physical rather than spiritual desires. The fountains and pavilions in the background, which seem to be made of Coral, Lapis Lazuli and other semi-precious materials may be sensuous parodies of the mansions of heaven and the fountain of life at the centre of the Garden of Eden, from which life flowed to water the earth. The round pool where the women bathe, or the water in the foreground in which couples bathe and frolic together may also relate to the ‘Pool of Youth’ through which human beings were said to grow to maturity. In the central round pool the girls are not merely admired by the men who ride round to impress them and stir up their longings. The Ibises on the women’s heads indicate that they too are out to impress and entice. In the Bestiary symbolism the White Ibis stalks and feeds on serpents and their eggs, so was sometimes used as an image of Christ destroying sin, as snakes were said to flee from it. However in this ‘world-turned-upside-down’ the women are themselves shown as temptresses. The Nile ibis was also said in the Bestiary to stay near the edge of water, looking for dead fish, snakes’ eggs and carrion to scavenge. It did not know how to swim, and lazily made no effort to learn to do so. As a result it could not feed on clean fish in deep water. Though created white, it was considered to be among the filthiest of birds due its feeding on corpses, though it purged itself with its beak. Allegorically it was associated with unrepentant sinners who sought only the fruit of the flesh, rather than entering the water of baptism and feeding on the fruits of the spirit to be found there. The parallel with the temptations offered by women in the pool therefore become obvious. The men, however, do not need any persuading; they are already vigorously showing-off their prowess.
Right-Hand Wing:
The right-hand wing moves from an sensuous dream of The Garden of Earthly Delights to nightmare forms and activities, where people receive the inevitable outcome of their neglect of spiritual truth.
The scenes of Hell include many realistic elements – contemporary musical instruments, kitchen implements, eggs, rabbits or hares, but the everyday objects are being used against or in opposition to human beings, and have become threatening. Familiar objects from everyday life have changed use or scale to become alien and violent. It is almost as though the environment and human creations have tuned against those who have abused their use. The Hawk, rather than being enthroned. should be helping humans to hunt songbirds, not devouring humans in a way that makes them fart out blackbirds, as seen here. This depiction of a reversal of what were then considered the natural order, seems relevant in today’s context of environmental disasters and social threats.
Among the tortures of Hell some may relate to the five senses as well as reflecting the particular sins being punished:
Sight: The whole picture is a riot of sights, some enticing, others revolting. Particular reference to sight as well as Lust, may be the nude woman beneath the hawk’s throne, who is embraced by a dog-like demon. She is a symbol of vanity as she looks into a convex mirror in the bottom of a green demon.
Sound: A naked man is tied by demons to the neck of a lute, another to the shaft of a chanter, into which a smaller figure has been stuffed. Two are squashed in a hurdy-gurdy, one is imprisoned in a drum being beaten by a rat-like creature, another is stretched on a harp, as on a rack. The figures around them try to close their ears to the noise of a golden horn blown by an obese figure in a baby’s cap, over which flies a blue pennant emblazoned with the Turkish crescent. Mediaeval writers on morality often called Lust the “music of the flesh”. The figures closing their ears, suggest that the sounds and cries of Hell are a cacophony, which the combined sound of drums, bagpipes, hunting horns, torturing harps, screaming victims etc. would certainly be. As with the birds in The Garden of Earthly Delights, nature has been reversed: musical instruments, which should be played by human beings with joyful expression to reflect the harmony of the spheres, are now turned and become animated to torture humans and reflect their anguish.
Feeling: In the presence of the fires of Hell, the lake is frozen, with figures skating on it, one man is marooned on a boat, another has capsized into the ice. Dutch like English uses the phrase “to skate on thin ice” as a metaphor for dicing with danger. A man tries to escape by climbing the mast of another boat, but the boat is one of the pairs of floating clogs of a great white monster, the ‘Tree Man’ in the centre with trees for legs and a seed form for a body or brain. In shape he forms the profile of a human skull. Figures drink around a circular table in his seed-like brain cavity, while more figures are climbing in up a ladder. Demons force men to play enormous bagpipes on his hat. The bagpipes were commonly, the instrument of dunces or fools, who sang lewd songs, encouraging lechery. To the right side of the Tree-Man, above the lake, hangs an open lantern into which people are enticed or pushed by demons, where they will be damaged like moths attracted to a flame. The monstrous imaginative form, the enigmatic ‘Tree Man’ also survives in a detailed drawing by Bosch [Albertina, Vienna c1505-1510], but has never been satisfactorily interpreted, though many have tried. He looks backwards, perhaps watching the breaking-up of his own body. On his head in the drawing is a different headgear to that in the painting - a cogged wheel topped with an enormous pot from which a man on a ladder climbs as though building in the air with a plumb-bob. An owl mobbed by birds looks on, perhaps surprised by the man’s audacity.
Smell and Taste: A large hawk-like figure enthroned near the front-right is fed human beings, instead of a hawker’s lure and defecates them in a transparent bubble or chamber-pot, which empties into a fetid round pit filled with gasping figures, into which the greedy are being made to vomit and the avaricious shit gold coins. The hawk has a cauldron for a helmet, pots for shoes and his latest victim, as he enters the beak, perhaps in fear, expels a flock of blackbirds from his bottom. This balances the flock of birds swirling from the rock in the background of Paradise on the left wing.
In the middle-background a great war, perhaps Armageddon, is being waged in front of the burning cities of Hell or Purgatory. An enormous knife-blade like a war-engine is being wheeled out, with ears for wheels. Like the blade in the front right of the Vienna Last Judgement, this may be intended to have deliberately phallic connotations. The ears crush the minions beneath it, but the blade may be an enormous threat to castrate those sinners who have indulged the flesh.
The painting includes more of Bosch’s anticlerical references. In the foreground right, a pig dressed as a nun lasciviously encourages a sinner to sign a paper. This may be a sealed confession, vow, will or certificate of indulgence. Her companion may be a monk or other religious figure. The ink is provided by walking monster in armour, carrying a huge ink-pot in his mouth, while another man holds his own sealed confession or certificated vow above his head. Before him another man is crucified to an upturned table by an armoured mouse.
Behind the table various figures are tortured in ways that relate to their sins. One woman who was obviously a gambler and drinker, has a dice is impaled in her head and carries a flagon. Beside her a naked hunter has been impaled by his rabbit/hare quarry, dressed for a hunt and blowing a hunting-horn. He hangs from a pole like an eviscerated animal. Another man is consumed by his hunting dogs; his mailed glove formed into a fist may suggest that he represents the sin of Anger.
Bosch’s contemporaries admired inventiveness, which may explain the complicated content and elaborate composition of this triptych. Theologians also wrote about the way that art could communicate aspects of faith through “ the enjoyment of the eye” /’concupiscentia oculorum’. The scenes entice the viewer and engage the imagination to try to interpret them. Despite the nakedness and sexual references the paintings are far from obscene or pornographic; rather they encourage consideration of the morality of the scenes and desires represented. Bosch challenges the ethics of the values of the court or community of Christians to which the painting belonged and the society over which the noble members of the court had oversight and responsibility. Courtly life was partly centred around pleasure and entertainment. This triptych encouraged nobles to consider the morality of their pleasure, including contemporary ideas of courtly love, in the light of God’s intentions for the lives of human beings. The Haywain encouraged a similar questioning, by challenging the lives, activities priorities and values of a broader class of society, including peasants, merchants, nobility and religious Orders.
CONCLUSION
The above interpretations of Hieronymus Bosch’s paintings seem to me the most reasonable, after much thought and research. The more reasonable and orthodox interpretations are often likely to be the most true. However, the wealth of scholarship, debate and argument about the meaning of his paintings over many years affirms that there are multiple potential readings of his symbolism. Bosch’s work may seem strange, surreal, even blasphemous to some modern eyes. But he was representing the popular orthodox Christian beliefs of his time. In a world of dangers, when life-expectancy was short, faith in the ultimate victory of God over the forces of evil was important. To be assured of salvation was especially significant, since it was believed that few would ultimately be saved and the majority of humanity would fail. Judgement, demonic temptation, Satan, and Hell were believed in as constantly present physical realities. The temptations of the world, the flesh and the Devil were seen as the everyday lot of human beings. If one died suddenly, by accident, attack or in journeying, and were unshriven or un-absolved one’s eternal fate lacked hope. The Antichrist could come any day; he might even be in the world, in the form of a ruling despot or the persecutors among the Islamic Turks or Jews, who were considered a present threat to Christendom. The Judgement Day would follow soon after the destructive, persecuting, apparent-triumph of the Antichrist. To survive such dangers demanded orthodoxy of belief, righteous behaviour, the prayers of one’s neighbours and the intervention of the Saviour and the saints. It is no wonder that Bosch’s paintings are filled with religious and popular superstitions. They represent a full gamut of the allures that distracted away from the faith and the results of failure to follow the ways intended for human beings. Many of the mediaeval superstitions which he represented have been transformed today into more reasonable, contemporary, acceptable forms of Christianity, but irrational superstitions still persist in all factions in the worldwide Church.
Already in the Europe of Bosch’s time, many of the principles for which the Roman Catholic Church stood were being questioned by reformers in attempts to purify Christianity both in its doctrines and activities. Many Catholic reform movements were developing, like the Brotherhood of the Common Life, following the Dominican and Franciscan lead, to attempt to bring the Church closer and more in alignment with the teachings and example of Jesus AND St. Paul. Most of the religious Orders had ‘observant’ or ‘reforming’ groups which sought to return them to their founding principles or the model offered by Christ. Enthusiastic, devout secular and clerical believers joined confraternities like Bosch’s Brotherhood of Our Lady, in order to keep alive, revive and promote pious religious devotion. Rationalists like Erasmus were trying to encourage beliefs that were less superstitious and to encourage moral behaviour alongside sincere faith as a way of ensuring salvation. In 1517, a year after Bosch’s death Luther would nail his ‘95 Theses’ as proposals for debate to the door of Wittenberg Church, calling for reform of the church and a re-thinking of several of the superstitions which inhabited Bosch’s images. He called for a restoration of biblically-based faith and religious practices. The Roman Catholic Council of Trent and the Inquisition were also to call fro reform. Some of the contemporary criticisms of the clergy, state, ethics, superstitions and Church activities are present in Bosch’s imagery.
The biggest question in assessing Bosch’s art for our very different time and culture is perhaps: ‘Is Bosch’s imagery still relevant to the Christian Church and Christian believers today?’ It certainly provides valuable warnings about not trying to frighten modern thinking people into believing. There was too much superstition and Hell-fire preaching in past religion. Short-sighted attempts at playing on people’s fears and using creative imagination to conjure up horrors that might emotionally convince people to make commitments to faith are usually counter-productive in the modern, thinking world. The Church needs a far more reasoned apologetic, to explain the value of the Christian faith to contemporary people. Those churches that still attempt to encourage fear often simply convince those to whom they are trying to witness, that their faith is not reasonable or in touch with contemporary needs and thinking.
However, the call for morality that Bosch includes in his work is as needed as ever, though many off the issues of morality have changed. Our ethical issues have altered in many ways in the 500 years that separate Bosch’s world from ours. While some who call themselves Christians are still stuck in mediaeval ethics and limited reading of scripture and sexuality especially, a large number in the Church now recognise that some of the sexual issues, which Bosh’s society would not have accepted, are socially and spiritually acceptable today, since we understand human psychology better. There is still as much hypocrisy in Churches and individual Christians as Bosch criticised in his contemporary clerics; still as much naivety in society. The self-centred greed and duplicity which he represented in works like The Haywain and The Conjuror are perhaps even more apparent in society, politics, the financial and business sectors and among ordinary people. The shallow greed for finance, position and power, while neglecting true spirituality, as represented by the religious in the foreground of The Haywain is as strong among Protestants and Evangelicals as it is in Catholic and Charismatic circles. The emphasis on exploiting the delights and resources of the world, without being wise stewards of those earthly resources with which we have been entrusted, is perhaps even more relevant today than when Bosch painted The Garden of Earthly Delights and The Haywain. The dangers of the human and faith journey through the world are perhaps even stronger than those represented in The Pilgrim / Wander.
Bosch was presenting warnings and images of what he believed to be the spiritual reality beneath the world, seen through his expansive imagination. The hybrid creatures which he imagined arose form the idea that when the Rebel Angels and human beings fell Creation became corrupted: The fallen spiritual beings took monstrous forms and their sinful influence led to the physical and spiritual disfigurement of humans and nature. Though these almost caricatured images are entertaining today, and probably also entertained those who collected and saw the works during and soon after Bosch’s time, they had serious purpose. They represented the underlying fallen nature of the spiritual world, just as his representations of human activity represented the inner nature and corrupt actions of human life. As a member of the Brotherhood of Our Lady, Hieronymus Bosch was dedicated to vows that he would worship and venerate God sincerely and soundly. Whether he succeeded in living up to this personal righteousness we cannot know, as so little biographical detail is known. He was certainly regarded in his time as a distinguished member of inner circle of the Brotherhood. But we all fail in keeping our spiritual vows, so the likelihood is that Bosch, like all of us, knew failings similar to some of those he represented in his paintings. That recognition of truth may account for how well the images communicate today, even if the precise interpretations and their context in society may have been lost.
In his life-time Bosch was a sought-after artist. He became wealthy through his inheritance and careful stewardship of his wife’s possessions. He may well have known the temptations to greed represented in the Table of the Seven Deadly Sins, The Haywain as well as The Death of the Miser. In these painting he showed that he recognised the dangers in contemporary society, perhaps even in his own life. It might be relevant to make similar works to speak to the issues of today. Unlike the political cartoonist who can be much more overt in criticising contemporary figures and problems, Fine Art communicates best through more subtle means. Fine Art metaphors, allegories, allusions need to ‘suggest’ rather than illustrate or directly depict the challenges in society. One of the great qualities of Bosch’s art is that it catches the viewers’ eyes and imagination, to communicate through intriguing visual allegories and metaphors without being too direct. We are left to think of the paintings’ relevance and associations to our time and our personal lives, rather than having the corruption or problems of the world represented too directly or precisely. Bosch anticipated later fine artists with deep social content and commitment like Brueghel, Jan Steen, Hogarth or the German Expressionists.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Interpreting Hieronymus Bosch’s Strange Orthodox Christian World.
Iain McKillop
Hieronymus Bosch [c1450-1516] belongs to the generation of inventive Flemish artists after Robert Campin [1375 - 1444], Jan van Eyck [1370-1441], Dieric Bouts [1415-1475] and Rogier van der Weyden [1400-1464]. He was roughly contemporary with Hans Memling [1430-1494], Hugo van der Goes [1440-1482] and Gerard David, [1460-1523]. He flourished long before his artistic heirs Pieter Bruegel the Elder [1526-1569], a century before Pieter Brueghel the Younger [1564-1638]. Bosch worked for a distinctly Roman Catholic audience, but, as with his German contemporary Albrecht Dürer [1471-1528], (who he may have met,) religious and social reform was in the air, being explored in new spirituality movements as well as apocalyptic visions, images that called for moral behaviour and changes in social, personal and religious priorities. Bosch was almost exactly contemporary with Leonardo da Vinci [1452-1519] and Botticelli [1446-1510] but from a very different cultural background, with different artistic and theological aims.
The strange creatures, distorted human features and licentious activities in many of the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch have led some to consider that he had unorthodox spiritual beliefs or practices, was influenced by sects that were regarded as heretical by the Catholic Church or indulged in licentious behaviour himself. Although the documented facts of Bosch’s life are few, such suppositions seem to be far from the case. He, his art and his workshop flourished in a period and culture when license or heresy were exposed, rooted out and severely punished. He lived in a close-knit, religiously committed community, where any unorthodox behaviour would have been scrutinised. His art was admired and sought-after by
noble collectors with strong religious beliefs and convictions. He also became a distinguished member of a religious confraternity which commissioned art from him and would have rejected any beliefs, activities or work which did not conform to their ideas of strict Christian observance.
One unfortunate impression that one receives from studying his work is that Bosch may have enjoyed creating the hybrid monsters and wild flights of his apocalyptic imagination more than sober religious images. This does not quite conform to the theological or devotional intention or spiritual seriousness of moral paintings. Being entertained by his strange scenes of wild behaviour and grotesque creatures may also have been a secondary motive behind collectors who prized and sought out his work, like the Spanish royal family. It is a strange contradiction that subjects that are designed to morally challenge can also be so enticing to the senses and the imagination. However, there is another possible interpretation. In Bosch’s time it was believed that folly and sin were universal failings in humankind. Spirits tempting one to sin were considered to lurk everywhere; judgement and condemnation by God was believed to be the inevitable final destiny of the majority of humankind. If Bosch, as a devout member of his Christian brotherhood believed this, he was forming visualisations, however strange, of common, contemporary Christian beliefs about the future of most of humankind. Grotesque figures like those invented by his imagination were common in the marginal of mediaeval manuscripts; Bosch elevated them to become major protagonists in his panel paintings. The more otherworldly the creatures tempting or torturing people in his paintings might appear, the more the viewers of his work might be encouraged to resist temptations. Images like The Garden of Earthly Delights are beautiful and enticing, but this was not Neo-Platonic Italy, where beauty was considered to reflect inner spiritual purity. The mediaeval mind, still prevalent in Bosch’s culture, was suspicious that material beauty was manipulated by evil spirits to allure one away from correct, Christian, spiritual priorities.
Most rational believers today would regard Bosch’s representation of demons and the fallen world as superstitious, wildly imaginative and unrealistic. But in his time he would have been considered to be representing the world as it really was beneath the surface, tempted to sin, behaving badly, often succeeding in its attempts to hide its folly and facing judgement. One contemporary Spanish apologist and commentator, Fray José de Siguença, wrote in defence of his work after Bosch’s death, at a time when the Church was questioning such art: “others try to paint man as he appears on the outside, while he alone had the audacity to paint man as he is on the inside.” Bosch’s paintings were holding up a mirror to a world and displaying its distortions. Rational modern Christianity rightly attributes more of the evils in our world to human falseness, self-centred behaviour and hardening of conscience rather than to the influence of demons and invisible powers of evil permeating creation. But that was the worldview that was considered orthodox, of the Catholic Church to which Bosch and the majority of his patrons were committed. It was similarly part of the worldview of contemporary calls for spiritual revival and reform, like the Brotherhood of the Common Life with its practice of Devotio Moderna and The Imitation of Christ. This community had two houses in Bosch’s hometown. The Protestant Reformation which was beginning to emerge in Northern Europe was developing a call for a similar change in priorities and practices. So, although Bosch’s images seem so strange to modern eyes and their representation of Christian belief appears unusual, they were actually attempting to visualise the spiritual world as believers considered it to be.
Today we might imagine and interpret the psychological and spiritual problems of the world differently and more rationally. Yet Bosch’s work is still relevant, because he was not afraid of using his art to point out to all - commoners nobility and clerics issues of moral decay, wrong activity and religious corruption in his times. We often prefer art to be less didactic, to elevate or question in more subtle ways, but modern art principles also encourage art to challenge, not just by intellectual ideas and aesthetics. There is much that is wrong in the contemporary world and contemporary religion, which is not too different or distant from the society which Bosch’s images challenged.
BIOGRAPHY
Bosch is mentioned in about 50 surviving official documents over a period of about 42 years. But these contain no diaries, letters, personal reflections or personal theories on art. The most fruitful records are the account books of the Brotherhood of Our Lady, to which he belonged, but they give no details about his birth, character or life, merely record commissions, feasts which he attended or financed, etc. It is similarly difficult to certainly date his pictures, except to suppose a vague stylistic development. None are dated or personally signed, and many have been heavily restored, copied, or overpainted in ways that make it impossible to restore or re-imagine the original subtleties of style beneath. The works that do bear a signature are probably copies, works in his style, or not signed by him personally..
‘Hieronymus Bosch’ is only the name by which the painter came to be known, through linking his Christian name to the town where he was born and worked. His family name was ‘van Aken’. His proper full name was ‘Jheronimus Anthoniszoon van Aken’. From several documents we know that his family and fellow citizens shortened this name to ‘Joen’ or ‘Jeroen’.
Bosch has been calculated to have been born c1450-55, according to lease-payment documents, which he witnessed in 1474. In the Netherlands at that date, he must have been about 24 to be regarded as legally mature enough to give his official signature to a document.
His hometown was ’s-Hertogenbosch, locally known as ‘Den Bosch’, from which comes the other part of the painter’s common title. It was one of the four largest cities of Brabant, after Brussels, Antwerp and Lovain. Now in north Belgium, near the Dutch Border and Utrecht, it was then part of the territories of the dukes of Burgundy. The Netherlands was not divided into unified countries until much later in history. Some art-historians once suggested that the remoteness of his workplace from centres of artistic culture could account for the development of such a unique style and approach to subject matter. But ’s-Hertogenbosch was then an important commercial town, with strong trade connections with many cities in Northern Europe, and Italy. It may not have housed a noble court or bishop’s palace, but it had many well-educated middle class inhabitants who gained their wealth from commerce and it had connections through trade, education, religious houses and confraternities with many European cultural centres and noble families.
Archives make no mention of Bosch’s personal education, but it is presumed that he was educated at the city’s well-known Latin School, due to his background, later career, intellectual abilities, scholarly references in his work and his acceptance into the elite Brotherhood of Our Lady, which only accepted well-established members of society. The city also had a ‘Chamber of Rhetoric’' / ‘rederijker kamers’ which encouraged educated debate, the development of literature, and sponsored poetry and dramatic performances.
The city also thrived as a religious centre, with a large number of monasteries convents and Christian confraternities. It has been calculated that around the time that the artist died, one in every nineteen inhabitants of the city belonged to a religious order. This was not altogether popular with the other inhabitants, who were expected to support them financially and spiritually. There was hostility, criticism and some cynicism in the wider society, which may account for some satirical and sceptical jokes within Bosch’s images, referring to lack of integrity among some clerics and religious orders. (See, for example, the figures in the right foreground of The Haywain. The faith and the moral authority of the Catholic Church was nevertheless, still a feature of faith in the Netherlands. The commercial guilds of the city were all dedicated to a particular patron saint who was celebrated on feast-days. The whole city celebrated the major ecclesiastical feasts. So the power of the Church, especially the main church of the city Saint John / ‘Sint Jan’, was strong. The churches, particularly Saint John’s, were filled with artefacts from civic benefactors and patrons including the guilds, which swelled the sense of civic pride. Parallels have been drawn between the imaginative figures and monsters of Bosch’s painting s and the gargoyles, grotesques and monsters on Saint John’s church, but they were probably just influenced by similar superstitions.
Hieronymus started his painting career in the workshop of his father Anthonius van Aken, alongside other apprentices. Hieronymus was the 4th generation of the most respected painting workshop in the town. His family name suggests that they originated in Aachen. Bosch’s great-grandfather may have moved from Aachen to ’s-Hertogenbosch in 1404. Bosch’s grandfather Jan van Aken established himself in ’s-Hertogenbosch from Nijmegen in 1427; the first certain reference to him is in archives of 1430-1. He gained important commissions, including a mural in the City Church of St John. Four of Jan’s five sons became painters, of which Anthonius seems to have been the most successful, before the career of his own son Hieronymus. His family lived in the Market Place (now No. 29), which Hieronymus’ brother Goessen inherited after their father’s death in 1478, then left to his own son Jan in 1498.
In 1474 The Brotherhood of Our Lady, called on Anthonius’ advice over the commissioning of an altarpiece for their chapel in the city church, then in 1475-6 commissioned paintings for the altarpiece from the van Aken family and woodwork from the Utrecht wood-carver Adrien van Wesel. Sadly these have not been traced.
There is no mention of Hieronymus in the town archives from 1474-81. Some have suggested that he might have been travelling to gain experience, but he may just have been regarded as an employee in the workshop. It has been inferred that he may have visited Utrecht due to stylistic influences on his early work. His more mature style shows the influence of art from the southern Netherlands and Venice, which leads some commentators to believe that at some time he travelled south or even visited Italy. As there are also no records of him ever leaving his home-town, he may well simply have known these styles from seeing the work elsewhere, perhaps more locally, in the houses of collectors who commissioned his work, or in transit with the many Italian nobles, diplomats, merchants and traders who lived in and traded with the Netherlands.
c1480 Bosch married Aleyt Goijaert van der Meervenne of a prosperous merchant family. She was some years older than him, and brought the painter wealth and social stability. She had inherited several properties from her father around 1474, including her family house called ‘ ’t Root Cruys’ / ‘The Red Cross’.in the Schilderstrat, where they lived initially.
In 1481 Bosch sold his wife’s share in a country estate to his brother-in-law, then sold off a few other properties over the next 2 years. This gave them independence. & enabled them to set up an independent workshop in a 4 storey home in the Market Place into which they moved in 1483 - ‘In den Salvatoer ’/ ‘At the Sign of Our Saviour’. With outbuildings this gave the family a space of about 650 sq. m. They lived in relative prosperity; from records, we know that Bosch paid about nine times more tax than the average citizen..
1486-7 Bosch became a member of the Brotherhood of Our Lady. By 1488 when he became a member of the inner circle of the Brotherhood, he probably had reached the status of ‘master’ as a painter, though he is never referred to as anything but ‘painter’ in documents.
1504 Bosch was paid 36 Guilders for a Last Judgement triptych for Philip the Handsome, the Habsburg ruler living in Brussels. The total cost of the work came to 360 guilders, at a time when to buy a trading ship would cost between 30 & 150 Guilders. This commission probably brought the painter to the notice of other courtly patrons. We know that many courts of Europe sought works by him: Margaret of Austria owned a Temptation of St Anthony/ Isabella of Spain also owned work by him. His triptych of St Julia may have been commissioned for a northern Italian patron and his work became particularly popular in Spanish courts..
There is no record of the exact date of Bosch’s death, but his funeral and burial was held on 9th August 1516 with an elaborate Brotherhood Funeral Mass, the accounts for which survive. Generous payments were made from his estate to all involved: musician, assistants, celebrants and alms were given to each pauper present. (This was a common occurrence, but seems particularly relevant as ordinary peasants were such a feature of his art!) The Dominicans in Brussels also instituted Masses for Bosch himself after death, suggesting the spiritual value which was put upon him.
So Hieronymus Bosch was famous in Europe during his lifetime, in the Netherlands, Spain & Italy especially. Vasari mentions him despite referring to few Northern European painters. (He possibly only knew Bosch’s engravings.)
In the Brotherhood’s book of members Hieronymus is given the inscription: ‘seer vermaerd Schilder’ / ‘celebrated painter’. If there had been any doubts about the orthodoxy of his faith, he would not have become so promoted. He was copied, imitated and pastiched. Only towards the end of the 16th Century, with the rise of the Inquisition, suspicion and persecution of heresies and reform movements throughout Europe was there any suspicion or challenge to the orthodoxy of the religious content of his works. The Council of Trent published rules about what was appropriate in works of religious art and a few questioned whether some of his works were ‘tainted with heresy’. Other religious commentators and apologists rigorously defended Bosch’s paintings, particularly Fray Jose de Sigũenza in 1605, as mentioned in the introduction.
In his time, and afterwards Bosch was admired for his originality But tastes change and by the mid-17th Century the City Church of Saint John no longer liked the naked figures on his Creation picture. In 1671 the wings of the high altar were sold, and have disappeared. Sometime after 1626 his altarpiece in the Dominican friary in Brussels also disappeared. Some panels of the Brotherhood’s altar have been identified – John the Baptist in the Wilderness and John on Patmos, with a painting of the Pelican in its piety on the reverse, surrounded by scenes of Christ’s Passion in sepia. Many of his works may also have been destroyed in the enthusiastic iconoclasm of the Reformation. Thankfully, at the Spanish court, admiration for Bosch’s imaginative and detailed work continued, which accounts for the large number of works which were bought for the royal collections, and are now the pride of The Prado and L’Escorial. Of the many images that have been attributed to Bosch through history, modern research clearly identifies only about 24 works to him, including fragments.
STYLE
Bosch’s works are innovatory, particularly in the fantasy elements and strange creatures that he invented, but he was also strongly influenced by Southern Netherlands painters. In Spain he became associated with visions and nightmares in Spanish literature. It is interesting to speculate whether Goya’s later etchings and paintings of the horrors of war or witchcraft would have been created without that artist knowing Bosch’s work in the Spanish royal collection.
Like most artists of the time Bosch would have been expected to work in a number of media. In 1487 he painted a wall hanging for the ‘Geefhuis’ / ‘House of Giving’. He is recorded as renovating an antler-chandelier, originally painted by his grandfather. He also designed a stained glass window for the Brotherhood, made by Willem Lombart, and ceremonial shields for guild members. The Brotherhood also commissioned a ‘Cross’ /‘vanden cruce’ (1511-12), which some believe was a design for a cope, and a brass chandelier (1512-13). Through members of the Brotherhood he would have gained other commissions. He probably designed sets and costumes for the religious plays, tableaux and processions which the Brotherhood sponsored. Diego de Guevara joined the ‘s-Hertogenbosch Brotherhood in 1498-9. A member of the court of Philip the Handsome and well known to Spanish kings and the royal family, he was in a good position to negotiate commissions from Bosch.
Bosch seems to have worked on many ecclesiastical commissions in ’s-Hertogenbosch, both for the Brotherhood and the City Church with its 50 altars. An inventory by Jean-Baptiste Gramaye of 1610 records several altarpieces by him: -the main altar in the Upper Choir, dedicated to the Virgin and Saints Catherine and Barbara; a larger altar in the Brotherhood chapel, recording the six days of Creation, the legend of Abigail and scenes of David and Solomon; a smaller altarpiece of the Magi; and the altar of St Michael, with scenes of Judith ad Holofernes and the triumph of Esther and Mordechai.
Ugliness as a feature of some of Bosch’s work, emphasised the reality of mediaeval life. Like Grũnewald, he did not idealise, unlike Italian painting. We must recognise that many seemingly-grotesque human faces that he painted may not have been so unusual to the people of his day. There was far more malformation and distortion of features, due to the health-care of the time and neglect of the poor and needy.
Bosch used fairly conventional subject-matter and developed upon traditional iconography but treated it in an original way. He depicted the lives of popular saints from traditional texts of their lives, but he represented them unconventionally, often telling their stories in a lively way rather than making the image too quietly devotional.
In his grisaille images, like the life of St James the Greater on the wing of the Last Judgement Triptych, he does not imitate sculpture, unlike van Eyck, but just represents the narratives in monochromatic paint. Art imagery in religious art had multiplied in complexity through the 15th Century. This sparked debates in the church about the cult of images. As Europe moved towards Reformation, even Roman Catholic theologians were emphasising that saints should not be worshipped and their images should not be venerated but that saints should be taken as examples for Christians. Erasmus of Rotterdam’s Handbook of a Christian Knight emphasised that Christ should be the focus of worship, and Christian people should work to improve their lives by emulating those examples, not rely on veneration of images of saints. He called the cult of images ‘superstitious’ and ‘mindless’ in In Praise of Folly [1511]. Erasmus had satirised the idea that images of a powerfully built St. Christopher could protect people. This may have been an influence on Bosch’s painting of the saint [c1500] as a fairly ordinary bearded man, leaning for strength on his staff as he labours under the weight to carry an innocent, weak-looking devotional figure of the Christ-child. Only the tiny figure on the river-bank, of the hermit who converted St. Christopher, gives us a sense of the large scale of the subject..
Bosch’s images were not always innovatory. His painting of St. John on Patmos is derived from a popular etching by Martin Schongauer; his small Crucifixion was based on a larger work by his grandfather in the City Church. He also includes many contemporary references: He makes reference to Turkish details in the flag in Ecce Homo and on a persecutor in The Mocking of Christ. These are probably references to the Turkish occupiers of Palestine, which was seen as a growing threat to Christendom.
In composition Bosch arranged pictorial space to place emphasis on scenes, groups of people and different stories within his pictures, rather than making his space as realistic as those of Van Eyck or Van der Weyden. He retained a sense of perspective, but often exaggerated this and enlarged certain figures and scenes. He used a high horizon to increase the field in which he could show his figures and scenes. Technically his colours blend and colour schemes meld or gradate into each other. He must have worked into the paint while still wet, rather than building them up in layers as van Eyck or van der Weyden had done.
Natural landscape and vegetation in Bosch’s paintings are often more like imagined plants or late Gothic ornament rather than precise observation of nature, making the scenes seem more visionary than naturalistic. This may be to emphasise that the settings in the Middle East are exotic. However many of the animals, birds and insects are represented in extremely naturalistic detail, probably drawn from close observation. This is probably to demonstrate that he is representing the world as it truly is, not a world of fantasy.
Hybrid creatures and grotesques had been used before Bosch to characterise elements of evil. Bosch elaborated this tradition. The introduction to Horace’s Ars Poetica condemned monstrosities, as the Council of Trent and the Inquisition were to do. Yet popular beliefs of the time considered the invisible and spiritual world to be populated by creatures distorted by evil. It was believed that when the Rebel Angels fell from heaven their forms became deformed and ugly, generating the monsters which Bosch imagined.
THEOLOGY
The extant archival sources suggest that Bosch was fairly intellectually educated, and piously religious. His affiliations, like most of his patrons were from the Roman Catholic Church. We do not know details of any requirements placed upon Bosch by those who commissioned his work. It is therefore difficult to assess how much of the style and subject matter came from his imagination and how much was directed by his patrons. However the way that most subjects were interpreted the subjects implies that the works were commissioned and considered more from a moral perspective than as devotional pieces, or to promote theological education. This moral priority is similar to some of the European writings of the time, which Bosch may have known: Sebastian Brant’s ‘Ship if Fools’ [1494], Pico della Mirandola’s ‘Oration on the Dignity of Man’ [1486]. Henry Suso’s Horologium Sapientiae (Clock of Wisdom), Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ and Thomas a Kempis ‘The Imitation of Christ’.
The emphasis on strange, demons formed like hybrid monsters in Bosch’s iconography may be related to the emphasis on rooting out witchcraft, sorcery and heresy in the contemporary Church. Jacob Sprenger and Heinrich Kramer’s ‘Malleus Maleficarum’ / ‘The Hammer of Witchcraft’ first published in Nuremberg in 1494, described in detail the nature of witches, and how they could be recognised. It examined their involvement with the Devil and his cause, and listed the tests and punishments to be used. Thomas Aquinas had speculated that witches and sorcerers were the first progeny of the Fallen Angels breeding with the daughters of men to form giants, as in the legend of Gen.6:1-6. The evil-spiritual monsters of the mediaeval imagination were further engendered by such superstitions.
After Bosch’s death the Council of Trent [1545-63] explicitly condemned the over-imaginative excesses of some religious pictures from this time as did several Reformation leaders. Yet Catholic kings in Spain particularly continued to love them and the contemporary Spanish apologist Fray José de Siguença used this as a proof that there was no suspicion of heresy about them, since it was believed that the king was appointed and guided by God. De Siguença’s astute observation, referred to previously, that “others try to paint man as he appears on the outside; while he alone had the audacity to paint man) as he is on the inside.” is particularly useful in a modern interpretation of Bosch’s work. In the Brotherhood’s book of members his inscription: ‘seer vermaerd Schilder’ / ‘celebrated painter’ helps to confirm that if there had been any doubts about the orthodoxy of his faith, he would not have become so well-known, so promoted by religious bodies, or so popular among his contemporaries. He was widely copied, imitated and pastiched, which few would have dared to do of an artist suspected of being unorthodox or heretical. Such was the power and infiltration of the Inquisition at the time that he would have been prevented from working and patrons who bought his works would have been prosecuted. There was regular debate about the purpose, use and abuse of images by the Inquisition, the Council of Trent and other religious bodies at the time, and he was widely known, so if his work have been in any way regarded as problematic, it would have been rejected or more likely destroyed. High-ranking collectors would have avoided him and not competed for his works as leading collectors and princely courts did. None of these difficulties appear to have occurred, so it is likely that he was considered ‘safe’ and of spiritual value at the time. Devout people probably used his pictures to examine their consciences, as well as being entertained by the invention and imagination in his images.
About the year 1560, the commentator Felipe de Guevara justified Bosch’s work “he painted strange figures, but he did so only because he wanted to portray scenes of Hell and for that subject matter it was necessary to depict devils and imagine them in unnatural compositions…. He paid as much attention to propriety and always assiduously stayed within the limits of naturalness as much as, and even more so, than any fellow artist.” This emphasis on ‘naturalness’ may be rather exaggerated in order to justify the work to the royal court for whom Guevara was writing, or to the Inquisition.
Some critics and commentators, particularly Fräenger, have tried to identify the sexual scenes in some of Bosch’s images with the ‘Brethren of the Free Spirit’ or ‘Adamites’, whose unorthodox mystical teachings, they suggest, are reflected in his themes and subjects. The Brethren of the Free Spirit were not a single movement, and had varied beliefs, doctrines, ideas and practices, but were condemned as an heretical movement by the Catholic Church at the Council of Vienne between 1311–12 in a bull ‘Ad nostrum’. Some of them advocated a return to the innocent condition of Adam, lack of shame in nudity and sexual freedom. Several more orthodox groups shared similar, though more ethical ideas about spiritual freedom, including Meister Eckhart, the Beguines, Beghards and Marguerite Porete. Other commentators also link Bosch to esoteric circles, like the Cathars, astrology, alchemy and psychedelic visions. Yet when you remove from consideration the works once dubiously attributed to Bosch but now doubted, you find that the majority of his paintings follow traditional Christian motifs, even if his approach is innovatory. If he had been associated by contemporaries with ‘dubious’ groups who were suspected of heresies, Bosch would not have received the commissions or been collected by several of the collectors who admired his work, including Catholic princes and nobles and Cardinal Domenico Grimany, in whose Italian place hung the pictures of the Inferno and Jonah and the Whale in 1521. Bosch’s Ecce Homo seems to have a patron in Dominica robes in the foreground. Certainly the Brotherhood of Our Lady were closely associated with the Dominicans in ’s-Hertogenbosch. As the Dominicans were particularly rigorous about discerning and rooting-out heresy, it is very unlikely that they would have had anything to do with Bosch if there was any worry about his works containing unorthodox beliefs. Similarly Philipp II of Spain was rigorous in his Catholicism, yet collected some of Bosch’s most challenging works.
In 1486-7 Bosch joined ‘The Brotherhood of our Lady’ and remained a member until his death in 1516. He seems to have quickly advanced within the Order, becoming a member of the inner circle in 1488. He shared the bill (with 6 other members) for a formal meal to celebrate his new social position, to which the secretary to the Emperor Maximilian I was invited. The Brotherhood had been founded before 1318 and was dedicated to the veneration of Mary. They were encouraged to follow her example in caring for the poor and other charitable works, and were rigorous in their commitment to worship. An image of the Virgin -‘Zoete Lieve Vrouw’ - in Saint John’s Church was believed to work miracles, and attracted visitors and members of the Brotherhood from a wide area. The Brotherhood made vows of commitment to attend Sunday services, Vespers on Tuesday and Wednesday, with Mass and Vespers on 20 religious feast days through the year, as well as three annual processions. They sponsored choirs, musicians and compositions for these services. Every six or 8 weeks they hosted communal meals as well as commissioning and supporting passion plays. The Brotherhood of Our Lady also fostered close links with other local religious institutions and groups to which about 1,100 inhabitants of the city were committed. They felt particular affinity to the Dominican friars and several guilds, including De Passiebloem, a chamber of rhetoric, which staged religious plays.
Though founded in 1318, the Brotherhood of Our Lady grew rapidly in the years before 1500, due probably to the spiritual revival encouraged by two houses of the Brotherhood of the Common Life in ’s-Hertogenbosch. Bosch’s Brotherhood had 50-60 inner members and several thousand ‘outer members’. Members came primarily from the upper class elite: minor nobility, bishops and priests both from the local diocese and beyond, theologians, lawyers, merchants, doctors, apothecaries town administrators and craftsmen. The poor could not afford membership, so were banned. Bosch was the only painter among the local Brotherhood at the time, and probably gained membership through his educational knowledge and the social position gained thorough his inherited wealth. In March 1510 he is recorded as paying for and hosting the sumptuous feast following the requiem Mass for a knight, Jan Backs.
The Brotherhood commissioned many works of art for the Church of Sint-Jan (Saint John) in ’s-Hertogenbosch, particularly for their Brotherhood chapel of Our Lady. In 1478 they commissioned a more splendid chapel for their Brotherhood on the north side of the Choir, from the architect Alart du Hamel. Bosch’s father Anthonius was involved in discussions for its new altarpiece. Anthonius may have acted as on of the Brotherhood’s artistic advisors. Through his membership of the Brotherhood, Hieronymus gained access to more secular and religious patrons, and commissions like the decoration of St John’s Church. He would also have become known by members of the Brotherhood further afield: Brothers included members of the Habsburg and Burgundian court. Diego de Guevara, the steward of Philipp the Handsome and Hendrick III Prince of Nassau may have been involved in commissioning The Garden of Earthly Delights. Nothing can be proved to have survived of Bosch’s commissions in Saint John’s, which may have been stolen or destroyed around 1629, when Prince Frederick Henry took the city from the Spanish and imposed Calvinist principles.
There was no Painters’ Guild in Den Bosch, but as an avowed ‘Brother’ of the Brotherhood of Mary, he would not have had obligations to a guild. As a member of the Brotherhood he would have made oaths to follow and carry out many religious duties. As there is no record of Bosch ever having sanctions against him, it is probable that he took his duties and vows to the Brotherhood seriously. Members wore a cope on ceremonial occasions, which changed liturgical colour on the Feast of John the Baptist on June 24th each year. The copes were variously green, red, violet, white, blue, with a silver badge with the moto: ‘Sicut lilium, inter spinas’ / ‘As a lily among thorns’. [Song of Songs]. As a member of the Brotherhood he may also have been regarded as a cleric, even though he was married and was not required to be celibate. In this position he would probably have had a tonsure and held an office in the church (to read the Bible during services, keep order, or serve as an acolyte or server. Some members were exorcists – an interesting connection, considering Bosch’s esoteric subject matter.
We do not know the detail of Bosch’s theological training within the Order, but he would have received basic theological education. He would have known the Devotio Moderna reform movement, popular in the area at the time based on piety like the Desert Fathers, who encouraged a mystical and personal relationship with Christ. As the Brethren and Sisters of the Common Life had two houses in ’s-Hertogenbosch, Bosch is likely to have known Thomas à Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ [c1418-1427]. Some references to it have been interpreted within his works. His patrons would certainly have known of their teaching and spirituality. They contributed to a spiritual revival in thought and devotion during Bosch’s lifetime.
Some of the many writings of Dionysius van Rijkel (Denis the Carthusian - died 1471), who founded the ’s-Hertogenbosch Carthusian Monastery have also been associated with Bosch’s work. Dionysius van Rijkel wrote 187 books including ‘On Contemplation’; ‘On Contempt for the World’; and writings on the Virtues and Vices. One emphasis of local spirituality of the time was on turning contemplative prayer into righteous social action. This is reflected in Bosch’s symbolic images of righteous and unrighteous actions, and his ironic references to ecclesiastical corruption and spiritually false activities of clerics.
Art was part of the encouragement to spirituality. Paintings of the Gospel scenes or the lives of the saints were believed to convey religious and moral teaching. They were thought to communicate directly through the eyes as well as encouraging religious thoughts. Bosch may have met Erasmus of Rotterdam who studied in ’s-Hertogenbosch from 1484-7. Erasmus himself painted and had an interest in art and artists.
Bosch would have inherited the belief that earthly life was filled with temptation, pain and troubles. If you did not overcome these by holiness the next life would be worse. Some believed that the evil went directly to hell. Others went to Purgatory in the meantime, where it was possible for you in your time there, and others still alive praying for you, to atone for your sins. The prayers and Masses said for you in church could help purify you and mitigate the suffering of the fires of Purgatory which were needed to destroy Original Sin. These purgatorial fires recur regularly in the backgrounds of Bosch’s paintings, as well as the more permanent fires of Hell. The altarpieces and patrons displayed within them perpetuated the memory of the deceased and encouraged continued prayer for them.. God would finally establish his order on earth and in the Day of Judgement and Resurrection.
Contemporary theology taught that scripture could and should be interpreted on four levels, as God intended when he created everything with meaning in the world. (The four varieties of meaning may have been suggested by the four Gospels, and the idea that the number four expressed a universal approach – 4 Elements; 4 Temperaments; 4 points of the compass etc.) Scripture was interpreted according to:
· The letter or literal meaning of the words or what the stories tell;
· The allegorical meaning behind the subject.
· The morality suggested within, or taught by the passage.
· The analogies that the story offers, with which to interpret the world now and the world of the future.
The meanings of Bosch’s pictures might have been interpreted along similar lines. There may not be one definitive meaning to the many symbols and references in his images. They can be interpreted in many and varied ways. They seem to be deliberately complex, esoteric and multi-layered, in order to encourage thoughts, challenges and puzzles. But each scene is intended to lead the viewer to consider ways to follow the example of Christ, the saints, or the moral teaching of the story or scene. They are not intended to lead the viewer heretical into beliefs or speculations that might focus away from orthodox Christian faith. The pictures may contain references to alchemy, astrology or heretical subjects of the time, but Bosch wasn’t using them to promote non-orthodox beliefs or practices. He may have been using the subjects of unorthodox practices and nightmares as warnings to the viewers. This seems particularly true of the Lisbon Temptation of St. Anthony, which is thought to contain several alchemic references.
Although we cannot be certain of the precise meaning of his paintings, and they are full of personal inventiveness, they are steeped in the culture of his time, so we have many sources and clues, which help to interpret them. He was part of a culture in which many might have been able to understand certain references, of which we are now unaware, even if they did not understand all or the whole. He seems to have referred to or referenced many sources:
· Religious Legends – particularly the Golden Legend and other Lives of the Saints.
· Bestiaries and Floras, which interpreted all aspects of God’s Creation.as having symbolic, ethical or theological meaning.
· Fables
· Proverbs. There were Dutch books of Proverbs of Bosch’s day including Heinrich Bebel’s Proverbia Germanica published in Leiden in 1508.
· Folk Legends
· Local traditions
· Mediaeval fascination with dreams, nightmares, astronomy, astrology, alchemy and contemporary scientific understanding. These were all often associated with theological beliefs. As well as his own vivid ideas and fantasies.
WORKS
A number of works originally attributed to Bosch are now believed to be copies, or painted by workshop assistants. There was a thriving trade in copyists in Antwerp particularly from the third quarter of the 16th Century. Many other works are now known only through engravings or copies, or descriptions in archives of past collections. Because of the growth of Bosch’s fame, many works were attributed to him, and inscribed with false signatures. Finished drawings like the Tree Man, Death and the Miser and Hearing Forest and the Seeing Field seem to have been created to be sold to collectors.
In 1504 Philip the Handsome commissioned a Last Judgement triptych. In 1508-9 the Brotherhood of Our Lady approached him and the architect Jan Heyn over the design of a new altarpiece (believed to be the Altar of Our Lady by the carpenter Adriaen van Wesel, a project which appears to have been later abandoned, due to cost.
ADORATION OF THE MAGI
Philadelphia Museum of Art. Oil on Panel. 74 cm. x 54 cm.
In this fairly early work, the aged Joseph stands at the far side of the table, humbly covering his head, or pulling back his hood with his hand, in reverence for the visitors. Jesus reaches out enthusiastically to the goblet which the magus has just opened. Two figures look on from the stable have been variously identified as shepherds or peasants. But one appears to be dressed more sophisticatedly and the other is a helmeted soldier. Are these spies for Herod, or may the man in black implied to be the presence of Herod himself, not actually in the biblical story but whose threat is present in the story? While this appears on the surface to be a fairly conventional scene, Bosch’s work already contains novelties and enigmas as well as originality in the ways that he interprets the religious scene.
ECCE HOMO
Städel Museum, Frankfurt am Main. Oil on Panel. 75 cm. x 61 cm. (Another version is in Boston Museum of Fine Art.)
Again this is a fairly conventional composition of a common scene in religious art. Pilate presents Jesus ot the crowd, who present an interesting variety of examples of late-mediaeval society. But there are few peasants among them; they seem to be mostly nobles, merchants, figures in foreign dress and soldiers. The inscriptions read “Crufige Eum” / “Crucify Him” and Pilate’s words “Ecce Homo” / “Behold the Man!”, while above the figures of the donors is written: “Salve nos Christe redemptor” / “Save us Christ Redeemer”.
The foreign character of the figures in the crowd is emphasised by the non-European nature of the dress they are given: turbans, helmets and weapons. Their evil nature is represented by their expressions and also the owl in the window or niche near Pilate. The owl in the mediaeval Bestiary was often used as an anti-Semitic symbol for Jews, who it was believed preferred to remain in spiritual darkness than to accept the light of God revealed in Christ. On a soldier’s shied is a toad, a symbol of evil waiting to pounce on its prey. From a building in the city square beyond, hangs a Turkish crescent flag, reminding the viewer of the contemporary occupiers and governors of Jerusalem, who were regarded as a threat to Christendom.
CHRIST CROWNED WITH THORNS
National Gallery, London. Oil on Panel 73 cm x 59 cm
Christ Crowned with Thorns, (c1495) is Bosch’s earliest surviving half-length painting of Christ’s Passion, a style that was fashionable in Flanders. Christ is depicted as an example of Christian humility in the face of persecution. The four figures that surround him have several potential interpretations: They display the facial features, complexions and colour-schemes of the Four Temperaments: Choleric, Melancholic, Phlegmatic and Sanguine They react to Jesus with different tempers, and have symbols that might seem to identify them: The arrow and armoured fist of a warmonger, The Black Oak sprig, denoting the Rovere Family, then controlling the papacy. This figure carries a club and wears a ‘besague’ or armoured shoulder plate and spiked dog-collar, The latter has been variously identified as a reference to the Dominicans (‘domini-cani ‘/‘ the dogs of the Lord’, or the violence of hounds persecuting the Messiah in the words of Psalm 22:16: “For dogs surround me; a band of evil men encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet.”) This figure has a determined, sly, untrustworthy expression. The lean elderly man with wispy white beard has a more venomous stare and is identified by the Islamic crescent on his headdress. The more active persecutor in the lower right, who appears to rip at Jesus’ light-flesh-coloured robe seems to be intended to have a Semitic profile, to show him as one of the Jews molesting Christ.
In the Monastery of San Lorenzo, El Escorial is a roundel of the same subject with similar symbolism, which is generally attributed to Bosch but is more portrait-like in detail than most of his works.
CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Musée des Beaux-Arts. Ghent. Oil on Panel. 74 cm. x 81 cm.
The attribution of Christ Carrying the Cross in the Musée des Beaux-Arts, Ghent has been disputed, but is generally accepted by many scholars as by Bosch. Its faces are far more grotesque and caricatured than his other work, so, if it is by him, it is probably a late work. It may be the work seen by Durer in Italy in 1506 or pained even later, perhaps after 1510, adopting the style of exaggeration for which he became famous and admired. Some experts suggest that it is a studio variation of a now-lost work.. Dendrochronology has suggested that the panels may be from wood cut after Bosch’s death. It is unlike the style of Bosch’s other pictures, or the style of any other work of Christian Devotional art in the history of painting, so if it is not by Bosch or his assistants there is little to help its identification..
Even the face of Christ, while demurely lowered, is less calm or placid than Bosch’s London panel Christ Crowned with Thorns, though Jesus’ temperaments are obviously meant to be in more balance than the other figures in the painting. Their sneering gap-toothed mouths, swollen lips, ugly visages, staring eyes, hooked noses and deformities are less subtle than the London panel and more like caricatures. It is less easy to detect their different temperaments, other than to see that in all of them their humours are unbalanced. They may be intended to represent different characters: cruelty, foolishness, cowardice, bestiality – animal sides of the human condition. The bound Penitent Thief, dark and scared confesses to a priest in the upper right, who looks more evil than the thief. In the lower right the snub-nosed, more securely bound Unrepentant Thief snarls at his taunters. They may be figures inspired by a Passion play, the productions of which were rarely subtle drama.
The exception is the figure of Veronica, in the lower left-hand corner, whose lean, almost serene face turns away from the horrors and violent characters surrounding the Saviour. She smiles slightly as she turns to her maid and displays the image miraculously imprinted on her cloth. This draws attention to the contrast between the features of the good and evil in the painting.
A mid-14th Century treatise on physiognomy: Den mensche te bekennen bi vele tekenen quotes Hippocrates interpretation of human features: “Hippocrates warned his pupils to beware those who are naturally pale, for those are liable to do wrong and to sin… Those who have large eyes, bulging outward, and of an ugly shape, are ill-tempered, lecherous and disobedient… Those who have eyes like those of an ass are foolish and cruel in character. People who have hard eyes, the look of which is sharp and lively, are thieves, dishonest and shiftless… A pointed nose signifies ill-temper. A long nose extending past the mouth signifies malevolence, pride and wickedness. A bent nose signifies malice, violence in anger and hastiness… Those who have thin and pale faces are stubborn, reckless and fond of fighting, livers of falseness and impure of body… Those who have large wide mouths are pugnacious, wicked and deceitful. Those who have large lips are foolish and slow in all things… Those who have short, squat necks are foolish and weak in the head…etc.” Most of the characters surrounding Christ and Veronica in this painting could almost be illustrations of that manual.
WAY OF THE CROSS / CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna. Oil on Panel. 57.2 cm x 32 cm.
The panel Way of the Cross was originally the left wing of a small triptych. On the reverse is an unusual picture of a child with a walking-frame, holding what appears to be a toy windmill. It has been variously interpreted as an allegory or emblem of ‘innocence’ or ‘foolishness’, but the association of the arms of a windmill with the Cross suggest that the child is meant to be interpreted as Christ . It is noticeable that the pose of the toddler’s legs is almost that of Christ carrying the Cross on the other side of the panel. It seems likely that this represents, or is an allegory of, the Christ-child learning to walk the way of God and following the inspiration of the breath or wind of the Spirit that would eventually lead him on his journey towards Calvary. The windmill as a symbol of the Cross, is found in the many windmill buildings painted in the background of Flemish paintings of the Road to Calvary. The child’s hesitant steps in learning to walk may be being compared with the struggle and agony of Jesus under the weight of the Cross. It would be fascinating to know what the other panels of the triptych depicted.
Christ’s own suffering, as he carries the cross is exacerbated by blocks of wood, covered in nails, which appear to be bound to his waist to hang down to lacerate his ankles and feet. This was a feature of some mediaeval forms of punishment for offenders, which Bosch must have witnessed. It is depicted in works of art by other Dutch painters. Its inclusion in this painting may be to intentionally exaggerate the suffering which Christ’s persecutors forced him to endure. Jesus is being drawn to Calvary by a turbaned soldier who carries a shield on his back with a toad painted or impaled upon it, as in the Frankfurt-im-Main Ecche Homo..
In the foreground of the Way of the Cross the Penitent Thief confesses his sins to a benign priest (a cultural and historical anachronism, as we are viewing First-Century, pre-Church Israel), while the bonds of the Unrepentant Thief are tightened by two soldiers.
Bosch’s earlier, much large Christ Carrying the Cross shows an elderly, figure of Simon of Cyrene helping to take the weight of the Cross. He appears to have very Jewish-features. On the right wing Mary collapses beneath John’s feet.
MARRIAGE FEAST AT CANA
Museum Boymans-van-Beuyningen, Rotterdam Oil on Panel. 93 cm. x72 cm.
This appears to have been painted late in Bosch’s early period. Its condition is poor, having had its upper corners removed and much repainting, including much later additions like the dogs in the foreground (probably 18th Century). On either side of Jesus sit men in contemporary dress, who may have been the donors of the painting. The L-shape of the table is unusual, though may have been a local tradition. Its composition does allow equal focus to be given to both Christ and the wedding couple. Jesus sits under a canopy, with richly decorated cloth of gold behind him; more the setting for a royal throne or for a noble bridal couple. There may be an intended allegory here of the Church as the Bride of Christ.
The picture’s mood is particularly serious for a picture of a wedding feast - even sombre in places, rather than celebratory. The exceptions are the grinning musician playing bagpipes in the upper left, the animated older couple in front of the table, and the three figures in front of the servants who process in the platters with a boar’s head and swan One servant looking up at the musician may be singing. In the distance the host appears to indicate a sumptuously arranged array of wedding gifts on a sideboard or cupboard. The only feature which resembles Bosch-like grotesquery is alongside the bagpiper, where a strange goblin-like putto-sculpture atop a pillar appears to have come alive and fired an arrow at the statue opposite, which wisely retreats into the hole behind it. This may be a humorous reference to cupid, firing arrows of love during the wedding banquet.
A possible interpretation has been offered to account for the seriousness of the scene: A contemporary tradition held that the bridegroom at Cana was John the Evangelist. At the conclusion of the feast, the tradition claimed that Jesus called him to leave his wife and follow Christ to a higher form of spiritual wedding in following God’s mission. Apart from the church teaching that chastity was a greater calling, this seems a rather cruel interpretation of a story, which John’s Gospel presents as a celebration of marriage, as well as celebrating the scene as Christ’s first miracle - the first of John’s seven signs of Christ’s divinity. If the interpretation of the picture as a celebration of chastity is true, it would certainly account for the unhappy faces of the bride and Mary’s serious expression and gesture.
A more likely reason for the glum atmosphere could be that the expressions are intended to represent growing gloom at the diminished supply of wine. Mary seems to be indicating towards Jesus, who can do something to alleviate the situation, and Jesus’ hand is raised in blessing immediately above the head of the servant pouring the water into wine jars. The woman in an oriental head-dress behind this servant is in immediate line with Jesus’ hand. She may be tasting the first sip of new wine, or the last sip of the earlier inferior wine. Her companion on another oriental hat appears to be reacting to her tasting the wine. The servant talking to the bridegroom may be announcing the good news, hence the bridegroom’s smile. The three figures to the left of the painting, and the two in front of them, may be discussing it. This animated talk is taking place in front of the procession of the platters of swan and boar’s head, which may indicate that the celebration can now continue in joy. I believe this to be a more probable interpretation than celebration of chastity. Above the bridal couple one of the statuettes being displayed on a sideboard or cupboard by the host represents two figures dancing, which would again indicate the celebration of human love. Another represents the Pelican in its piety, an indication of Jesus’ own sacrifice of his life-blood, with its parallel in the wine of the Eucharist
In front of the wedding couple and Mary, with his back to us, a small figure robed in green appears to be a finely dressed and crowned child. He probably represents the Master of the feast, holding up the cup to exclaim that the newly-drawn, miraculous wine is the finest yet served at the feast. But from his size he is either a diminutive man, or a child who has been made master of the feast, as in the traditions of a ‘lord of misrule’ or a ‘child bishop’, enthroned for a day of celebration. His green is the colour of fertility. Beside him on the floor sits either his golden throne or a reliquary, which appropriately faces Christ, pointing to the fact that Jesus is the most special divine guest at the table. This green-robed figure wears the white stole of a deacon. The animated older couple beside him may be reacting to hearing his exclamation about the wine and
EPIPHANY TRIPTYCH
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. Wings 138 cm. x 33cm. Central Panel 138 cm. x 72 cm.
While representing a common theme in mediaeval art, Bosch makes many unusual additions to the composition and the iconography, including its unusual elongated form . In the wings the donors, man and wife are accompanied by St. Peter and St. Agnes with her lamb. They may be the couple’s patron saints, or those of the chapel for which it was intended, or they may refer to the names of the now-unknown donors. The coats of arms behind each are those of the Bronckhorst and Bosschuyse families, but the precise identities have been unidentified, so the details of the commission remain obscure, as does its date, though recent research suggests that it was painted for Antwerp,
This is a more formal Epiphany than the Philadelphia panel. The Magi approach more formally, Mary and Jesus receive them in a more stiff position and the donors watch with reverence. Only the surrounding figures are less formal. The shepherds or local peasants climb onto the balding thatched roof, crowd round the side of the building or peep through a hole in the wattle and daub to watch the unusual encounter. Joseph, unusually, keeps at a distance in the left-hand wing, drying a cloth against a fire, beneath a lean-too shelter. Further in the distance two groups of horsemen charge at each other, while another group gathers beyond the sand-pits in the distance. Are these the magi’s entourage, coming from different directions, armies or hunters preparing for an affray, or perhaps soldiers sent out by Herod to seek the child. Jerusalem appears in the background, under the Epiphany star, like an exotic city of domes and pinnacles, as it does in the background of Bosch’s Christ on the Cross with Donors and Saints in the Royal Fine Art Museum, Brussels.
The strangest addition to the iconography is a lean, half-naked figure watching from the doorway behind the Magi. While the Magi have removed their headdresses in reverence, he retains his crown, the form of which suggests that he is either a king or a high-priest. Some interpret him as Herod, with his spies hiding beyond him in the darkness. (In the Gospel narrative, Herod was not physically at the scene though his threat was present). No attempts at identifying him are fully convincing. He carries a three-tiered crown, like a false papal crown decorated with monkeys or demons. On his belt are other demon figures standing on their heads. His bare leg displays a crescent-shaped wound that appears to be encased in a glass or crystal cylinder, almost like a reliquary. He is therefore attired and decorated with what seem to be blasphemous parodies of Christian symbolism. This suggests to some interpreters that he might represent the Antichrist, surrounded by the powers of darkness and looking on in order to plan how to deceive the world. He appears to have Jewish or Turkish features, which would link him with contemporary anti-Semitic superstition that the Antichrist would originate in the Tribe of Dan and be born of a Jewish whore. Others relate his attire and features to the Turks who still occupied Jerusalem and were considered a threat to Christendom. They were associated in the mediaeval theological imagination with Gog and Magog [Rev.20:8; Ezek.38 & 39; Gen.10:2], prophesied to appear at the final Apocalyptic battle. Behind the stable roof the two armies charging towards each other may relate to this, adding an Apocalyptic element to this Adoration of the Magi. Such an interpretation does not comfortably fit the theme, though it may have referred to some local superstition that the end was near. The star that led the Magi was sometimes related to the stars that heralded the coming of the Messiah in the Last Days [Rev. 6:13; 8:10-12; 9:1. Eventually Christ would be revealed as the “bright morning star” Rev.22:16.] Another interpretation links the half-naked figure with Balaam in Num.14:17 and his companions as Moabite ambassadors sent by King Balak, but this again is a rather convoluted interpretation.
Whatever his meaning, his presence is obviously meant to be sinister. By contrast the magi were considered in medieval tradition, recounted in the Golden Legend, to have been converted from a past in pagan sorcery, by their encounter with the truth in the Christ-child. There are threatening presences elsewhere within the triptych. Behind Joseph in the left-hand wing demons crawl around the gateway, The peasant dance in the fields beyond could represent the joy of the world at the coming of the Messiah, but it is accompanied by bagpipes, which in the background of the Pilgrim in the Haywain, suggest that the joy is carnal. The lamb of St Agnes in the right wing points to Christ as the sacrificial lamb, often shown in paintings of the Adoration of the Shepherds. In the distance, above the figure of Agnes wolves attack and have separated a man and woman, who flee from them as Joseph and Mary will soon have to flee their native land. A pagan idol with its pole, in the distance, recalls the mediaeval legend, recorded in many paintings of the Flight into Egypt, that as Jesus and Mary crossed into the foreign land its idols fell on their faces in his divine presence and were broken.
Closed Wings
On the back of the wings of the altarpiece Bosch depicts the Eucharist of Pope Gregory the Great [c540-604], where Christ was said to have appeared to confirm his presence in the Eucharistic elements. Gregory, an example of the pope as God’s representative on earth, is positioned so that he exactly covers the position of the Antichrist on the main panel, when the wings are closed. (This is unintentionally ironic in the light of later critical images of the Pope from the Protestant Reformation which identified the papacy with the Antichrist.) Above, when the wings are closed, a crucifix covers the exact position of the star of Bethlehem over the stable. Both the figure of Christ on the crucifix and his figure as the Man of Sorrows above the altar open up to reveal the scene with the Magi. This suggests theologically that the sacrifice of Christ opens our ability to approach God through Jesus, as the Magi did, who were also Gentiles like most of us. This breaking open of the body of Christ, like the fracturing of the Host in the Mass, is also a feature of the crucifix in Grünewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece [1512-1516].
This link between the Epiphany and the Mass is found in several mediaeval writers and was a theme in the woodcut images of the popular mediaeval ‘Biblia Pauperum’, where theological parallels were drawn between Old and New Testament scenes. There the Visit of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon and Abner’s Approach to David in Homage were represented as prefiguring the Epiphany. Both these scenes from the Hebrew Scriptures are depicted on the richly embroidered collar of the second magus in Bosch’s painting. The Sacrifice of Isaac is the carving presented at the feet of Mary, presumably representing the gift of Myrrh and symbolising the sacrifice which Christ will make on the Cross.
ST CHRISTOPHER CARRYING THE CHRIST-CHILD
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 113 cm. x 71.5 cm.
As mentioned earlier, the sense of scale of St Christopher is not recognised until one compares him with the tiny figure of the hermit on the river-bank below him. The painting includes several strange elements, which are typical of the way Bosch elaborated stories to bring out their supernatural implications. Some relate to contemporary theological ideas, but most derive from the Golden Legend and other mediaeval references to the saint.
Christopher, according to legend, was supposed to have been an enormous Canaanite, ‘five cubits’ or seven and a half feet tall, reputedly with a more frightening face than Bosch gave him. He was said to have sought to serve the greatest master – one who was powerful and worthy enough to follow. At first he served the king of Canaan but when he saw that the king crossed himself in fear at hearing the Devil’s name, he recognised that the Devil must be greater than his master. He therefore sought out the Devil, finding him among an evil troupe of marauders, and Christopher turned to served him. On discovering that is new master avoided passing a Cross and feared Christ, he left the Devil in search of an even greater master. In his search he met a hermit who introduced him to the Christian faith and converted him. Christopher asked how he might best actively serve Christ, rather than by passive prayer and fasting. The hermit suggested that Christopher could serve Christ by using his strength and size to help travellers to cross a dangerous river, where many had died. After time in this service, a small child requested that he would carry him across the river. While crossing, the child grew heavier in weight and the river swelled to a flood, causing Christopher to struggle under the burden. On managing to reach the bank he questioned the child, saying that he felt that he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The child replied that Christopher had been carrying not the whole world, but the One who created it. The child, before vanishing, revealed himself to be Christ the king, who the giant had been serving. Later Christopher moved on to comfort persecuted Christians in Lycia, where he was offered enticements to convert to paganism by the king. The saint refused and converted many in the city to Christianity before himself being martyred.
Bosch’s composition depicts Christopher’s world as dominated by evil. Its dangers are apparent: Behind and in front of Christopher, are the masts of two sunken ships, showing the danger of the crossing, and suggesting the danger of our own journey in the world . There are other symbols of threat in the picture. In the distance, across the river a dragon appears over the ruined walls of a large, castle-like building, terrifying the swimmer below him. The town beyond is threatened by fire, Nearer, a huntsman strings-up a captured bear on a tree. The dangers are also moral: above the hermit the enormous pot hanging in the tree identifies it as a strange tavern with a roast chicken cooking in its cracked side. It is reached by a precarious broken ladder. This may be a sign of lost innocence, debauchery and unchastity, which Christopher and the hermit try to avoid but are dangers on life’s journey. Above the pot is a dovecote, then higher in the tree a daring, naked figure attempts to climb a near-vertical branch to raid a woven bee skep – presumably a sign both of his drunkenness and sinful humanity’s precarious climb to find ‘sweetness’.
Christopher is often represented crossing water with fish swimming around his feet. In Bosh’s picture some fish seem stranded on the shore, but he also carries a dead fish from his staff The iconography is uncertain; it looks more like the fish traditionally carried by Tobias or the healing of Tobit’s blindness. Here it may refer to Christ, the ICTHUS, as well as being a possible narrative element- holy food being brought home to make a meal for the hermit, himself and the child, rather than the defiling produce of the tavern.
Despite the many threats, the Christ-child is protected by St. Christopher, and Christopher by the Christ-child. The intention of this painting may be to encourage prayer and vigilance, requesting similar protection from Christ and the saint on journeying through life, travelling, trading or living in a world of natural, physical or spiritual dangers. As we know ’s-Hertogenbosch was on important trade routes. Large murals of St. Christopher near the doorways of many mediaeval churches were used for prayer before many went on journeys or pilgrimages, or were generally prayed to for protection. This panel was probably used either privately or in a chapel for a similar purpose.
JEROME AT PRAYER.
Museum of Fine Art, Ghent. Oil on Panel. 77 cm. x 59 cm. c1495.
Rather than show him resplendent in cardinal’s robes, Bosch shows Jerome as having discarded these, and laid down his copy of the scriptures, which he translated. He prostrates himself in his under-shift upon the crucifix, kissing the legs of the Saviour. His lion companion, so prominent in many paintings of the saint, is relegated to the left edge of the panel, and is only the size of a small dog. It lowers its head, presumably in reverence. The only surreal elements are a strange, insect-like plant form over the left-hand edge of Jerome’s cave and a large empty red shell, flower, fruit or nut in the left foreground. These might be intended to suggest the saint’s exotic location in Palestine, God’s miraculous provision for the hermit in his rocky environment, or indulgent, sensuous temptations, which Jerome was resisting by prayer, fasting, study and devotion to Christ in his suffering. The landscape in the background of the scene, is verdant and peaceful, suggesting that Jerome would not need to go far to secure common provisions. This is very different from the ‘wilderness’ which Jerome described in his letters, where he was besieged by various temptations, including that of lust.
In the distance a large bird has built a substantial nest among the branches on the summit of a rock. This may be a reference to Jesus teaching about the natural world having their homes, but the Son of Man having nowhere to rest his head [Matt.8:20]. Jerome is emulating this deprivation to encourage his spiritual focus. He has found refuge in a rock with many openings, which may be windows for his light, or home for other creatures who share his retreat: These creatures surround him in an apparent state of peace: A lizard crawls up his rock above the lion, an owl sits of the dead tree near a titmouse, which might otherwise have been his prey; a sleeping fox lies near a cockerel, which pecks at the ground secure. In his Letter to Eustochium Jerome described how in his “wilderness” he “had no companions but scorpions and wold beasts… there I made my oratory, there the house of correction for my unhappy flesh.” [Letters of Jerome 22.]. The cave, hollow stumps and discarded, broken shells of exotic fruit are the main symbols of the wilderness to which Jerome went to subdue his flesh and concentrate on Christ. The Owl, as a Bestiary symbol for the Jews, may be included to denote that this scene is set in Palestine, or that Jerome has found Christian enlightenment here, whereas his neighbours had not yet responded to Christ’s light.
TRIPTYCH OF ST JULIA OF CORSICA or ST. WILGEFORTIS
Gallerie dell’Accademia, Venice. Oil on oak panel, Left wing 105.2 × 27.5 cm, Central panel 105.2 × 62.7 cm, Right wing 105 cm × 28 cm,
This small triptych was probably designed for private devotion. It had been heavily repainted but was carefully restored between 2013 -15. Few female martyrs were crucified, so this triptych is thought to represent either Saint Julia of Corsica, mostly venerated in Southern Europe , or more likely Saint Wilgefortis, a fictional saint popular in Northern Europe in Bosch’s time, also known as Saint Uncumber, Ontkommer (Dutch), Kümmernis (German) or Liberata. She was revered in Germany and the Netherlands.
Julia of Corsica died c439, crucified after being tortured and flogged. Her symbols are a martyr’s palm-branch or a cross. A legend said that as she died a dove emerged from her mouth. Little of this is represented in the painting.
Legends of Saint Wilgefortis, date from the 1300s, though now she has been abandoned officially by the Church, due to her fictional status. Her legend states that, having taken a vow of virginity, her father promised her in marriage to a pagan king. She prayed for God to mar her appearance, to make her repulsive to any lover, and thus prevent her marriage, so that she could remain virginal for God. As a result she grew a beard, which is shown as quite black in most images of her, but not strongly painted in Bosch’s. Her father, in rage, demanded that she be crucified. She preached from the cross for three days before she died, converting many, including her father, who repented of his impulsive decision to kill her.
Scenes from her life may have been included on the wings of the triptych. One may have been a painting of the storm sent by God to punish her persecutors. Infra-red scans of the triptych show that drastic changes have been made to its wings particularly. The two side panels were overpainted at an early date, either before the commission left Bosch’s workshop, or soon afterwards. The original intention may have been to show the two donors or two patronal saints on the side panels with background scenes related to their origins and local references. When the full length figures were overpainted, images of Saint Anthony seem to have been chosen to be added, making the links of the background scenes seem more obscure and difficult to interpret.
Some scholars believe that this triptych is partly painted by Bosch’s workshop under his direct guidance, though much of the painting may be by the master himself. The over-painting is so close in style to the rest of the work that it was probably carried out by Bosch and his assistants, so perhaps the commission, patron or buyer changed before the triptych left the workshop. The exterior of the triptych may well have been originally painted in grisaille. Some of the original work may have been removed in Vienna as late as 1838 to 1919, before it entered Venice’s Accademia Collection
Central Panel - The main focus of the central panel is the young woman saint with long brown hair. She is tied by each wrist, rather than nailed to a ‘Tau’ cross. Her expression is sad and plaintive as she looks up to the right and speaks. Her feet (not visible beneath her robes) would be the centre of the panel. She wears a crown and distinctive robes which may be intended to represent her wedding garments. Beneath her long red, split dress with a modest V-neck and wide sleeves, is a dark blue under-dress decorated with a silver foliate pattern in silver. Her fabric belt is fastened with a brooch.
At the foot of the cross, nine hostile men accuse her, while on the left, about fourteen other men seem to be coming from the trunk of a large hollow tree. Another man appears to have collapsed at the foot of the cross, while two men support and attempt to revive him. This is probably the girl’s fiancé, as his tights are similar to the saint’s under-garments. Or it may be her father, who, in the legend, after conversion died of grief at what he had done. Some of the figures to the left also seem distressed by the woman’s crucifixion.
On a small cliff in the middle distance and on the ruins of an old, overgrown tower are some of Bosch’s strange plants with fungoid-shapes and flowers, perhaps suggesting the exoticism of the setting. . A distant town, set in a plain surrounded by green rolling countryside, woods and forests.
The themes of the side panels now seem little-related to the central panel:
Left Panel - The left panel shows white-haired and bearded man, dressed in a black hooded robe, sitting on a rendered wall. He leans forward holding a goblet or chalice and a small bell, looking at a strange hybrid creature below. He is similar to Saint Anthony in the Hermit Saints Triptych, and his bell, strange creatures and fire could be St Anthony’s symbols though the identification with Anthony is not made obvious. The creature that he watches, with just a head, silver-brimmed hat and arms holding a crossbow could be one of the creatures of St. Anthony’s temptation.
Behind him is a fire-lit night scene of a semi-ruined tower, inhabited by men, one with another crossbow, birds, and more strange creatures. To its left are figures and creatures around a bridge. Beyond, a fortified gatehouse leads to a road and another bridge along which pass lines of figures carrying bundles of goods. In the far distance, a burning and smoking town lights the night, The whole scene suggests distress and danger, perhaps oncoming threat.. It has been suggested that the fire is a reference to an historical or local event, possibly even the fire which swept through ’s-Hertogenbosch when Bosch was young. This might indicate that it was created for a local commission.
Right Panel - The right panel shows a coastal landscape with two men walking beyond a rendered wall. One appears to be an executioner with an ugly spiked cudgel over his shoulder and a sheathed, curved sword. The more distant man dressed in brown robes, points to the crucifixion on the central panel. These two men appear to have little relation to the story, unless they represent her former torturers or other disrespectful figures who have come to witness the execution. They help to direct focus onto the central scene.
In the rocky landscape beyond, a hunter tries to spear a small mammal, while another figure with a large sword attempts to attack the hunter. A wolf stands over another creature’s carcass in a field of crows, while above, a figure hangs from a tree branch. On a small beach in the distance, eight to ten figures with ropes, drag a large whale. There is a shipwreck high in the water in the distant sea with bows masts and ragged sails. Perhaps the ship collided with the whale. It still flies its long, red, limp pennant. Another strangely formed ship with a curved rear tower and large jaws is being rowed across the harbour, surrounded by towers, buildings and several smaller ships. In the far distance the green rolling landscape of the central panel continues. The whole scene seems uneasy. The only religious connection which has been offered as a possible explanation is the legend of Jonah and the whale, However the image on the panel does not seem to reflect any aspect of that story, or be relevant to the whole theme. Some commentators have tried to relate the scene to European whaling, in which the Dutch and Basques were involved, including the port of Bruges, but again, the links to the subjects of the triptych seem tenuous.
One of Bosch’s enigmatic owls is added to the image, accompanied by a scroll, which was probably originally inscribed. Most commentators believe the owl to be symbolic of a warning or to represent ignorance or evil, but its precise relevance here appears unclear. It may be a ‘signature’ symbol for the presence of the artist and his thoughts. The owl recurs so often in his pictures that it may have been regarded by the artist as his emblem or a motif for the enigmatic nature of his images. The whole triptych remains enigmatic and hard to interpret.
FALL OF THE REBEL ANGELS and NOAH’S ARK ON MOUNT ARARAT 1510-15
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 69 cm. x 35/38 cm.
These were the panels to a triptych which may have originally had a carving at its centre, though the subject of the main panel is not known. They have been sawn down on three edges and are in bad condition, with much paint-loss.
The identification of the scene depicted in the panel known as The Fall of the Rebel Angels is far from clear. Some believe it to be a scene of Hell, but it contains no scenes of the persecution or torture of the damned. The Fall of the Rebel Angels was taught by some mediaeval theologians to have happened on the third Day of Creation, bringing evil into the world and thus corrupting Creation at an early stage. Other mediaeval theologians suggested that it happened around the same time as the creation of Eve, which may be why it is shown in the background of most of Bosch’s scenes of Eden.
The painting of the Ark shows its inhabitants spreading back out into the world to populate the renewed earth.
Reverse of the Panels:
On the reverse of these panels are 4 allegorical roundels painted in grisaille, which represent:
· Demons beat the inhabitants, gaining possession of a farm or city and driving away its owners or tenants. This roundel shows a figure in the pose of Bosch’s St. John on Patmos kneeling before a woman in white running from persecution.
· A demon persecutes and unseats a ploughman from his horse, who falls onto the harrow being dragged behind. (a scene repeated on the back of the Noah’s Ark and Fall of the Rebel Angels panels in the Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam.)
· Demons besetting a traveller.
· The final scene, like the conclusion of Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, shows Christ blessing a kneeling man, perhaps welcoming the Christian soul, while another soul is being robed in a white garment by an angel [Rev.6:11].
These have been variously identified as scriptural or other parables, scenes of exorcism from St. Augustine’s City of God or scenes form the Book of Job, showing him suffering and tormented by the powers of evil yet being declared righteous before God in the last roundel. The first could be Lot and his wife or a scene from the Apocalypse. None of the suggested identifications are sufficiently convincing. However, they do make it clear that the pictures on the front of the panels should be interpreted as a spiritual metaphor or allegory, as well as literally. Three of the relatively monochromatic images show spiritual threats to ordinary human beings on the journey of life, but we cannot be sure of the precise intended relationship of these scenes to the main pictures,
As we do not know the subject of the main panel, it is hard to interpret the intended relationship of the two side wings to the whole. If it was, as some believe, a Last Judgement, they may have represented the origin of sin, punishment for sin and the means of redemption, where Christ was shown as triumphing over evil.
TRIPTYCH OF HERMIT SAINTS c 1504
Palazzio Ducale, Venice. Oil on Panel. Wings 86 cm x 20 cm; Central Panel 86 cm x 60 cm
This was probably painted in the middle of Bosch’s career. The Central Panel shows St Jerome. On the left wing is the Temptation of St Anthony, with the Temptation of St Giles on the right wing. The hermit saints were recommended as examples for devotion and emulation. Thomas à Kempis, Dionysius van Rijkel and other Devotio Moderna writers pointed to the Desert Fathers as models for focused prayer, simplicity of life, resisting the regular onslaughts of temptation to sin, commitment to purity, and mortifying the flesh to remain dedicated to Christ amid worldly or spiritual temptations These were seen by Thomas à Kempis as features of Christian zeal to progress and grow spiritually. It is likely that this triptych was designed as a commission for a small private chapel or domestic room, to encourage the patron’s spiritual growth.
Left-Hand Panel
The Temptation of St Anthony became a popular theme in contemporary art. He is shown resisting the advances of an amorous demon-queen.
Right-Hand Panel
St Giles is shown praying before an altar in a cave. The arrow through his breast signifies a previous incident, when he was accidentally shot by a hunter.
Central Panel
St Jerome mortifies his flesh by beating his breast with a stone while focusing attention on the Crucifix . His chair, throne or prie-dieu before which he kneels is engraved with reliefs of Judith and Holofernes and a man taming a unicorn - a symbol of purity and chastity. Another man crawls into a beehive or woven bee-skep (a motif also found in Bosch’s panel of St Christopher). His bare bottom sticks out of the skep, being too large to enter, which is probably a sign of his impurity in his fruitless search for ‘sweetness’. In a surviving drawing by Bosch of the motif, he is about to be beaten on the bottom by a man wielding a mandolin. He may be a symbol of gluttony, driven in by a foolish greed for honey. An owl sits on a branch that grows out of the woven bee-skep, surrounded by birds that persecute it, as in the Bestiary symbolism of the Owl, where it is not a symbol of wisdom, but an anti-Semitic symbol of heresy, suggesting people who prefer darkness to God’s light. This may imply a temptation to intellectual blindness, which Jerome overcame through his studies and devotion.
In Jerome’s letters he described the erotic visions in the wilderness, which attempted to interrupt his spiritual meditations. The women who tempted him are not present in the picture, but around him the wilderness is scattered with many ugly details. In the foreground two small monsters fight and devour each other; the skeleton of another lies nearby. Beneath them an archway feels like a prison rather than a place of shelter. As Jerome was said to have done some of his meditation among tombs this could represent a grave or the entrance to the underworld or Hell, from which the creatures and temptations emerge. Behind Jerome, a glass jar represents a figure praying to the stars, which may indicate that the hermit’s thoughts are raised to higher contemplation..
JOHN THE BAPTIST IN THE WILDERNESS
Museo Lazario Galdiano, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 48.5 cm. x 40 cm. c.1490-95
This is one of Bosch’s most exotic paintings, probably produced as a commission for the Brotherhood of Our Lady. John sits contemplating the Lamb of God in a golden setting, surrounded by luxuriant trees with a strange rocky outcrop in the distance. It is hardly a ‘desert’ or ‘wilderness’, but some other Netherlandish painters, notably Geertgen tot Sint Jans, also represented John the Baptist in a lush green landscape, though without the imaginative exotic plants. By John’s side an exotic plant grows, rather like the gourd in the Jonah legend. It is imaginatively invented, with spiny, twisting stems, broad leaves and giant fruit, filled with seeds, like a pomegranate. A bird feasts on it and sucks its dripping nectar or honey while another bird at the top of the plant sits on the dried shell of the fruit. Honey drips from the dried fruit, suggesting that bees have made their net in it. The bird seems to have hung two large flying insects onto an upper spine, perhaps to feed its young. Are these the locusts and honey on which John was supposed to survive? At the base of the plant is a small, dark mammal, perhaps a mole representing the life of the underworld. It is suggested that the plant may be a symbol of the sweet pleasures of earth which are full of danger. As the plant is so dominant in the composition it must be intended to have important significance in the meaning of the painting. As John so clearly ignores its presence, while looking and pointing towards the Lamb of God he is probably rejecting the temptations of the pleasures of the world. In the distant landscape various animals graze. A black bear climbs a tree, a grey bear or large wolf devours the remains of a deer.
John rests his head on his hand, leaning on a grey slab, out of which a root grows that appears to be a mandrake, superstitiously believed to breach prisons and be a sign of Resurrection. If the stone slab is that of a tomb it may imply that after John’s imprisonment and death the Resurrection of Christ will redeem and free him to eternal life. A dead bird seems to be lying on the slab, perhaps a foretaste of John or Jesus’s future. Apart from the exoticism of the setting it is hard to interpret the intention of the panel other than as an encouragement to meditate on St. John and follow his spiritual discipline and aims. But these are hardly represented in the image. John is robed in red finery rather than camel-skin, the robes of a martyr. Only his right sleeve suggests that he wears another garment beneath. It is only the lamb in the foreground that makes obvious the identification of John the Baptist as the subject of the painting.
TEMPTATION OF ST ANTHONY TRIPTYCH
Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, Lisbon. Oil on Panel. Wings 131.5 cm. x 53 cm. Central Panel 131.5 cm. x 119 cm.
The Temptation of St Anthony was an apt subject for Bosch’s imaginative fantasies. He returned to it is several works, of which this is the finest and most complex. It was also one of Bosch’s most influential and imitated paintings: over 30 relatively contemporary copies survive. Versions attributed to him at the time were in many collections throughout Europe. The original was probably acquired in late 1505 as a gift for his father by Philip the Handsome, who paid 312 guilders for it to the aldermen of the free council in Bruges
It was unusual to devote a whole triptych to scenes from St. Anthony’s life, though he was an influential patron saint, both as an example in resisting temptation and as a healer. His aid was particularly invoked against ‘ergotism’, the prevalent, agonising and hallucinatory nerve disease ‘St. Anthony’s Fire’, caused by eating bread made from damp mouldy grains. Even Grunewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece, for a monastic hospital chapel dedicated to the saint, where the disease was treated, includes images of Christ’s redemption. Bosch’s commission only has small images of Christ’s Passion on its external panels, only seen when the triptych was closed. The saint may have been related to the name or devotion of the original patron or donor, or the subject could have had some other special relevance.. It may even have been commissioned or collected more out of curiosity and fascination with the grotesquery and imagination in the works of art than as a devotional image.
Bosch probably derived the ideas and some details for his scenes from popular tales and superstitions about St. Anthony, as well as Dutch translations of the Golden Legend and ‘The Lives of the Fathers’. However he elaborated them from his own imagination and sense of drama.
External Wings
The outer wings painted in grisaille, illustrate the Passion of Christ – his Arrest on the left panel and Carrying the Cross on the right. They are not as carefully composed as many of Bosch’s other scenes, suggesting that the commission may have been started and worked on in a hurry. The images compare the passivity of Christ with the anger, violence and guilt of those surrounding and persecuting him. It feels as though the scenes are intended to encourage us to feel thankful for God’s grace towards us, and increase our imitation of Christ’s character and responses, more than to deepen our sense of guilt at our failings. Christ’s Passion relates ot the inner images of the struggles of St. Anthony to be worthy of and to emulate the purity and suffering which his Saviour endured for him.
Left Outer Wing:
This panel represents the struggles of Christ in Gethsemane, suggesting parallels with St. Anthony’s struggles in the desert. In the foreground Peter attacks the High Priest’s servant with his sword, cutting off his ear, as the servant drops his dark lantern. Across the plank bridge, behind them soldiers and servants persecute, taunt and kick Jesus as he still kneels on the ground A figure, who is perhaps John, walks away to the left, leaving part of his cloak lying on the ground by the bridge. The entrance to the garden of Gethsemane is marked by a canopied gateway, while in the background we see a cross already erected on Calvary and Jerusalem is represented as a northern European city in the distance.
Right Outer Wing
In the middle distance, at the same position as the crowd around the persecuted Christ in the left panel, Christ is surrounded by a lean angry crowd forcing him towards Calvary. He has fallen and Simon of Cyrene is helping to take the weight of the Tau Cross. Veronica kneels before him, holding out her veil. Looking on is a large woman with two small children, one on her shoulders, the other holding her hand. She probably represents one of the Daughters of Jerusalem to whom Christ offered warning, advice and solace [Lk.23:28].
The scenes in the foreground of this panel are less easy to interpret. They possibly represent the death of Judas, expressing regret to two priests on the left, then fallen from a collapsed gibbet in the right foreground, But the figure on the left with the priests could be Peter denying Christ, as the scene behind him seems to show the bound and blindfolded Christ, held by a soldier, being slapped by a priest and taunted to identify who hit him [Lk.24:64].
The strangest addition to the scene is a crow watching the beheaded head of a woman impaled on a tree form which a pot hangs. This sign is difficult to interpret. It could represent the fate of Jerusalem of which Jesus had warned its daughters [LK.23:22] or be a symbol of Calvary itself - ‘the place of the skull’. It is probable that such public display of beheaded miscreants was used in Bosch’s own society as a warning, just as the bodies of the hanged were left on display on gibbets or wheels.
Left-Hand Wing
In the sky of the left hand panel the flying vessels and creatures which torment Anthony are composed of fish, a pan, a snarling fox’s head, insect legs and other abstract objects. According to legend, while praying in the shelter of an old tomb a horde of demons overwhelmed and beat the saint, leaving him for dead. When he returned to his place of prayer a second time they raised him in the air, but divine light from the tomb dispersed them. In the upper part of this scene Anthony has been caught up into the air by flying fish-demons to be thrown to the ground. The main group of human figure at the centre of the panel shows him being helped to walk away by companions in the robes of the Antonite Order. One, whose face is clearest has been suggested to be a self-portrait by Bosch, since it resembles the supposed portrait drawing of him in the Bibliothèque Municipale d’Arras.
Beneath the bridge over which the group walk over three characters are reading One is a priest, who may be holding out an indulgence or confession (the writing is illegible), the other two are creatures, one a hybrid between a robin and a rat, the other face in the darkness behind has ears and a mouth rather like a bat or bear. In front of them a skating bird-like creature with a conical hat holds out another manuscript. The writing on this is clearer, but not easily deciphered, so has been variously interpreted as Bosch’s signature, a reference to simony, a letter of protest or an allusion to laziness. His hat, a metal funnel, is like that of the bogus doctor in Casting the Stone / The Stone Operation.
Many of the figures of fiends and creatures are hybrids, formed of various animate creatures, or parts of them, and inanimate objects. Some of them may not have particular meanings, but be designed to entrance the viewer’s sense of fantasy. But others, perhaps most, probably had meaning for the artist and his contemporary viewers, some of which we can only imagine today as we no longer know the sayings, motifs proverbial phrases or symbols on which they were based.
In the left foreground a bird with a huge head, which may be the mate of the robin eats its young as they appear from the egg. Higher above near the bay, a white fish in an elaborate wheeled and pinnacle shell swallows another fish. Higher above him a figure with a flaming head-dress plays bagpipes while squirting from its fat rectum. All the creatures on the extreme left of the panel seem to be either cannibalistic or performing ugly activities.
To the right of the panel a strange procession of pseudo-religious creatures moves towards a cave, formed by the naked backside of a man, crawling under a hill, with a bolt fired into his head. The procession is led by a figure in a sorcerer’s hat, a nun’s wimple and a scarlet cloak. Another, also in scarlet, has the head of an antlered deer, while the other, dressed as a hooded monk, has an elongated snout, rather like a spoonbill or the demon riding on the cart in the Haywain. From the woman looking through the window, the ale-jug and the symbols outside, it has been suggested that the cave they enter is a brothel or disreputable inn rather than a place of faith; its entrance may be a sign of sodomy. This interpretation of the goal of the procession as one of destruction is heightened by the false beacon, high on a hill above, which is luring ships to their doom on the rocks below.
Right-Hand Wing
In the right hand panel, a naked woman comes to Anthony from a richly draperied hollow tree. According to legend, this was Satan in disguise as a beautiful, innocent saint-like queen, bathing in a river. She took the hermit saint to her city, showing him all her good and charitable works. He recognised her true intentions when she attempted to allure and seduce him. To resist temptation the saint reads, turning his head towards us, away from the temptation of desire and lust. A debauched orange demon holds open the temptress’s tent as his wine bowl is filled by a queen-like figure, dressed in blue, who may be intended to be read as parodying Mary. Another demon crawls out from under the tent with a silver platter, into which Cupid seems to have already fired his arrow of list and missed his target. . On a branch above the naked woman’s tent a European kingfisher perches, which may symbolise the sex offered within. (The swallowing of a fish as a symbol of the sexual act.)
In the sky an obese man with a fire-pot on a pole, carries off an elegant woman, riding on a fish. Fish here are probably intended as sexual symbols, both as phallic references and related to the smell of spent semen. (Shakespeare used the same imagery of Caliban’s lechery in The Tempest, when Trinculo emphasises his smelling of fish [Act2: Scene2].) The flying man’s fire-pot probably represents smouldering passion.
Behind Saint Anthony, an elderly man or demon, doubled up and swathed for warmth, struggles to walk with a wheeled walking frame, similar to that used by the child on the reverse of the Vienna ‘Christ Carrying the Cross. The struggle to learn to walk through life has come full circle. At his side hangs a pot with a spout, presumably to stop him dribbling as he drinks. This reminds me of the descriptions of the frustrations of failing abilities in old age in the final chapter of Ecclesiastes [Eccl.12:1-8].
The scene in the foreground is more obscure. A meagrely but expensively spread table of bread, wine and herbs is carried above three naked men, in tortured positions. This may be a parody of the Eucharist, with a golden flask and two baps, offered to be shared between Anthony and the naked demon-queen. One man blows an elaborate horn to distract Anthony from his studies and prayer, one has a dagger through his head and carries what seems to be a scimitar, The central nude has his hands tied behind his back, one leg in a pot and the other leg is wounded, like that of the Pilgrim / Wanderer. The most grotesque figure in the picture, beneath Anthony, has a huge arse for a head, with a dagger sticking out of its anus. It has no body, but the head-dress of a nobleman, red like the tent of the naked woman, to whom the dagger points. It may be a reference to sodomy, then considered a sin punishable by death.
On first view, the city scene in the background, presumably the queen’s city, with its windmills, towers and market square, seems a fairly innocent image of a northern-European town. However, on closer inspection it is a threatening atmosphere: the lake is populated by sea-monsters against which one knight battles. The city walls are crowded with battling solders, the market-square is almost deserted and may contain a canon. Atop one of the towers is a building that looks like a huge bee-skep (suggesting sweetness within the city) but it is on fire. This may be intended to be interpreted as showing that the sweetness offered here is destructive and would lead to Hell. The city could almost be intended as an image of Sodom or Gomorrah.
Central Panel
The scenes in the central panel are far more complex. Bosch seems to have been inventing ideas as he went along, as many changes were made in the process of painting. He did not always keep close to the drawing beneath the paint, and several pentimenti show how he changed the image as he painted. St Anthony, in the exact centre of the central composition, signs a blessing, while surrounded by a host of strange scenes and creatures From a rich family, Anthony gave up half his inherited fortune and assumed the life of a hermit, where he was tempted and tormented by the Devil in various guises, and through different demons and monsters. This central panel focused on his steadfastness In the distance is a fiery city either the destruction of the world, the flames of Purgatory or Hell itself.
Demons in a huge variety of types come out of the air, water and land to distract and tempt him from his devotions beside a ruined tomb – the place of Anthony’s contemplation of mortality. Behind him an elaborate wedding feast, similar to that at the front of the right-hand wing, is celebrated by a richly attired couple. Behind them a creature with the nose of a shawm or similar wind instrument plays his ugly sensual music, similar to the figure accompanying the lovers on top of The Haywain. Their black servant holds up a platter on which a frog, in turn, holds up an egg. A pig-like relative, laden with jewels and with a barn-owl perched on its head, dances sedately. She has a small dog on a lead, dressed in a fool’s cap, as is the dog in The Conjuror. She carries a lute, which the man behind with a hurdy-gurdy attempts to grab. He has a crippled and putrescent leg and a lizard-like tail. Ravenously entering at the side are a riotous creatures carrying instruments of torture. A ‘tree-man’ with a metal gauntlet holds a monstrous, snarling hound, which has huge ears in the form of a crow and the swift legs of a hind. These probably all represent aspects of sensuous and sensual violent appetites. In the front left, from out of the rotting shell of an exotic fruit or giant strawberry, a demon drives a chariot drawn by a plucked roast chicken and a skeletal animal into the frozen water. These possibly represent the death to which those with false appetites are drawn. Beneath the fruit lurk two drunken demons, but a goldfinch also looks out, a recognisable symbol for Christ. The finch finding nourishment among thistles and thorns, despite pricking its breast and head was generally an analogy to the Crucifixion. As the Goldfinch is present in the midst of the temptation, perhaps it suggests that Anthony may find solace hidden within his trials.
Before the chapel a greedy nun before Anthony is being offered a bowl from this feast by an elaborately head-dressed young woman, with a pointed tail to her dress, resembling a reptile. He is encouraged to partake by the nun and the noble who sit with him. However a smaller figure of Christ, almost hidden in the depth of the chapel before him, focuses his thoughts on the Crucifix and Anthony resists the offered drink and any associated temptations..
A direct diagonal line between the upper right and lower left corners of the panel from Christ to St Anthony, extends further to a small enigmatic figure who is easy to miss within the scene, though he is dressed in red. This is a top-hatted man with a small gold sword and a kerchief spread on the floor before him. He leans against the parapet of the bridge and is partly hidden. His top-hat makes him seem like a modern addition, or a master of ceremonies. The cloth before him could be a cloth on which is spread a morsel from the feast, but in fact it holds a severed foot, its ankle-bone devoid of flesh We are not given a clue whether it is his own. Perhaps like Ugolino della Gherardesca in Dante he eats his kin or gnaws at himself.
Meanwhile a sacrilegious liturgy is being spoken by the two animal demons, who stand at the front edge of the platform on which Anthony kneels. One, with a monk’s tonsure and a rat’s face, wears a chasuble embroidered with a butterfly’s wings and recites from an elaborately illuminated tome. His companion wears a funnel, like the robin on the left wing and the false doctor in Casting the Stone/ The Stone Operation.
To the right of the panel is an even more crowded and elaborate scene. A city, of rich, carved architecture dominates the landscape. It may represent the wealth of Jerusalem, the East, Rome, or the Church. Naked figures live in and climb on it; one appears about to dive from its parapet or perhaps is hanging from a rope. Behind him on the roof, a monk and a nun dine together. The relief carvings on the walls of the round tower may help in its identification. Two are scenes from the Hebrew Scriptures: The uppermost level shows the Idolisation and Adoration of the Golden Calf in the wilderness. Beneath this is a pagan scene of idolatry, with a group offering oblations to an enthroned ape. The lower level represents Joshua’s spies returning from Canaan, laden with grapes which declared the fruitfulness of the land. The latter was regarded in the Biblia Pauperum as a parallel to the Eucharist and a prefiguration of Christ bearing his Cross, which was represented on the outer wings of this triptych. It is probable that the city is intended to represent the corrupted ideal of what Jerusalem and the Church should have been – the place of God’s presence and his peace.
The figures beneath these buildings are strange hybrids. An armoured figure with the head of a thistle, wings of a butterfly for arms and human legs, rides a creature with the legs and torso of a pig and a poring jug for a bottom A woman, riding on a giant rat has the body of a tree, a lizard’s tail, and carries a baby. Another child stands below in the water. A ghost-like courtier-demon, richly dressed in silver stands by the side of another figure in armour,
In the frozen dirty water before them are three sailing vessels. One is part-fish, another part-headless-duck, the last a tiny coracle holding a child with a large head. The fish is laden with jewels and armour, the duck is driven by a fool, blowing at a skate for its sail and with a strange figure half human, half- plant, manning the rudder. The meaning of these is unclear. In the sky fly more unusual creature-vessels. One is a cross-between a sea-monster and a stork, rather like the cannibalistic white fish in the left-hand panel.
The burning city in the background may be Hell or Purgatory, or is a reminder of the fire which almost destroyed s’-Hertogenbosch during Bosch’s early years. It is being fanned by monstrous creatures in the sky above, which may be allusions to the fires from heaven which were sent to torch the earth in Revelation 8. Parallels have also been drawn with the fire of nerve-agony endured by sufferers of ‘St. Anthony’s Fire’ or ‘Ergotism’.
These extraordinary images of the torments of earth and the temptations of the saint may seem extravagant. But they remind us of the superstitions that accompanied the Christian faith in Bosch’s day, and still do in some irrational believers. It was believed by many that God allows the Devil and demons to tempt and persecute those who are called to be saints, so that they might grow in grace through resisting outward temptation. [cf. Augustine, City of God xx:8]. This was an exaggeration of biblical teaching, based on superstition. The Epistle of James gives a much more reasonable description of temptation: “Blessed is anyone who endures temptation for. Such a one has stood the test and will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him. But no one, when tempted, should say, “I am being tempted by God”; for God cannot be tempted by evil and he himself tempts no one. One is tempted by one’s own desire, being lured and enticed by it; then, when that desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin, and that sin, when it is fully grown, gives birth to death. Do not be deceived, my beloved. Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfilment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.” [James 1:12-1].
The main focus of the altarpiece is to encourage the believer to trust that the sufferings of Christ, to follow his holy example as, represented on the outer panels, and to emulate the model of his followers like St. Anthony, ultimately protects us from the excesses, powers, dangers and threats represented in the inner panels. But the mediaeval world was a dangerous one to live in: illness, disease fire, warfare, robbery social inequality and other threats meant that life-expectancy was short and suffering was common. It is understandable that both the less-educated peasants and better educated nobles, who bought Bosch’s paintings clung onto any idea that would give them hope of survival and triumph after death.
Drawing THE HEARING FOREST AND THE SEEING FIELD
c1500- 1505, Kupferstichkabinett, Staatliche Museen, Berlin. 202 cm. x 127 cm. Ink on Paper
This finished drawing, a double sided artwork, is based on the proverb ‘Campus habet oculos, silva aures’ / ‘The woods have eyes and the woods ears’, suggesting that we should not do anything in secret that we would not do in the open, since someone may be about, and God will observe.
Unlike the face drawings on the verso, which is probably by assistants this pen and ink drawing appears to be entirely by Hieronymus. Once again it has an owl at its centre, perhaps denoting the artist but primarily suggesting that God sees both in the day and night. Ears sit in the background trees implying that everywhere his senses are aware.
At the top of the drawing a legend reads: "... For poor is the mind that always uses the ideas of others and invents none of its own...". This is based on a 13th Century religious quotation. Other writing on the verso refer to the dating of the end of the world.
Several different interpretations of the drawing have been offered, including the suggestion that it is an allegorical or emblematic self-portrait. Perhaps it represents artist watching and warning the lives and work of those in his studio or household. Another dubious interpretation found, in the various elements of the picture, words that together produce the name of his city ‘ 's-Hertogenbosch’ but the contortions within this make it unlikely.
THE CONJUROR
Musée Municipal, Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Oil on Panel. 53 cm. x 65 cm.
The original of this painting is lost but it survives in several copies. The most faithful of these may be that in the Musée Municipal, Saint-Germain-en-Laye.
As an elderly gentleman greedy for gain watches the Conjuror performing the infamous the cup trick, his purse is being stolen by his well-dressed accomplice thief. As a sign of his foolishness, a frog appears from the dupe’s mouth. Behind him another man steals a woman’s jewellery from her neck or perhaps is taking to opportunity to fondle her breast while the attention of the rest of the crowd is focused elsewhere . Below the table a child pokes the gentleman with a stick to divert his attention. The features of the Conjurer imply that he is of a different race, perhaps another of Bosch’s Jewish images, as he has an owl hidden within his basket. Or perhaps the owl just signifies the presence of hidden guile rather than wisdom.
The small, harnessed dog at the Conjuror’s feet, in the shadow of the table, dressed in a fool’s cap, seems to be waiting to perform, perhaps to jump through the hoop, which leans by him, in order to provide added distractions.
The whole design appears to be a warning against gullibility and the false tricks of the world.
DEATH AND THE MISER c1500-1510
National Gallery of Art, Washington. Oil on Panel. 93 cm. x 31 cm.
This seems to have been a wing of a triptych, of which the Ship of Fools and the Allegory of Gluttony and Lust may have been the other wing. We do not know the theme of the central panel, though it has been suggested that this might have been the Marriage Feast at Cana [Jn.2:1-11], known now only through copies. The painting of the Marriage Feast at Cana was an image of love in a committed chaste relationship, moderation at the feast, and support of one’s neighbour. So it might have seemed relevant to show the opposite on the side panels.
A detailed drawing survives for this work, painted with a brush and grisaille ink. As it is so close to Bosch’s painting on panel, it may have been a visualisation for the panel painting or a commissioned finished drawing made after it.
In the scene Death is near, already entering the door of the bedchamber of the miser, with his arrow ready in his hand, as in a scene in The Seven Deadly Sins. The roof and window of this chamber resemble the nave of a church, so the picture may be making some parallel reference to the attitude of the church to wealth, or the hypocrisy of wealthy church-goers. Above the door by which Death enters, is a crucifix in the arched window, the light of which shines down on the miser. The angel attempts to point the old man’s gaze towards the crucifix to focus his reliance on Christ on the Cross. But rather than rely on the salvation he offers, the dying man seems to prefer to attempt to bargain with the devil or demon emerging from under the bed-curtain, by trying to bribe him with a bag of money. Another demon looks down from the canopy above the bed.
In the foreground the old man’s companion by the chest may be seeking his legacy early, preferring to search the miser’s store of worldly goods rather than pray for the dying man’s soul. He neglects the rosary hanging at his waist. Alternatively this figure could be a second image of the miser prior to his death-bed, since he has similar features and is weak, supported by a stick. The chest at the foot of the bed is presided over by another demon who holds up some of the wealth to him, of which the figure holds a large gold coin. He may be placing the coin into the demon’s bag, if this is a comment on or reference to the wealth of the church. Beneath the chest Bosch’s strange demonic creatures lurk. One demon emerges from under the chest holding up what may be the old man’s sealed will or pledge. If this were a scene like the later legend of Faustus it could even be the pact signed by the miser to gain his wealth. In the foreground are arranged objects, which could be the spiritual armour that would protect a Christian soldier, but which have been neglected by those who focused on wealth. They lie among other objects of wealth and vanity, including rich robes hanging over the frame which demons and other creatures inhabit. The miser and his companion would need to reject these, to rely totally on God’s grace in order to receive the blessing of salvation. Over the foreground ledge a small cowled and winged figure, probably another demon, leans his head on his hand in apparent frustration. (Perhaps the angel’s spiritual influence is working on the old man).
The theme of the picture is similar to the theme of some contemporary devotional writings, religious treatises, court poetry and images like ‘The Dance of Death’ and ‘memento mori’ on tombs, in pictures or books. It particularly resembles a work popularly reprinted in Germany and the Netherlands: ‘Ars Moriendi’ / ‘The Art of Dying Well’. This explained in narrative form that temptations and demons surround the bed of the dying, while true faith and the aid of angels can strengthen and console us to withstand the onslaught. The conclusion of the small book described the victory of the angel, carrying the soul to heaven and leaving despairing demons frustrated below. Perhaps the winged demon in the foreground is bewailing his ultimate failure.
SHIP OF FOOLS c1500-1510
Louvre, Paris. Oil on Panel. 58 cm. x 32.5 cm
This panel was originally larger. The Allegory of Gluttony and Lust, discussed below, was probably its lower section. However, a grisaille drawing in the Louvre, Cabinet des Dessins illustrates only this part of the composition. Sebastian Brandt’s ‘Das Narrenschiff’ / ‘Ship of Fools’ was first published in Basel in 1494 and ran quickly into six editions and many translation, including Latin and Dutch, but its theme was already common in Northern Europe. Even if Bosch did not know Brandt’s publication, the theme was often used in the Middle Ages. A boat had frequently been regarded as a metaphor the Church: The architectural term ‘Nave’ is based on the form of a boat, and the clergy were often referred to as responsible for bringing Christian Souls safely to the port of Heaven. The Cross was also seen as a metaphor for the keel, mast or rudder of the ship, guiding it securely, as in ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ by Guillaume de Deguilleville, published in Dutch translation in Haarlem in 1486.
In the painting the failings of the religious and secular world are critiqued, for entertainment, for moral improvement, and to show up the failings of different aspects and groups within contemporary society From the mast a pink pennant flaps, not emblazoned with a Cross, but a Turkish or Islamic Crescent. These occupants of the boat, even the members of religious Orders do not seem to care much about any religious or ethical commitments. The owl amid the foliage on the mast may be an anti-Semitic symbol, or just represent the lack of wisdom of the clerics and others on board who have abandoned their spiritual and ethical responsibilities and are joining in with the worldly celebrations together. A nun accompanies the singing on a lute, while a monk and peasant join in. Between them a man appears to inflate a bladder on a string, which may imply the fatuous air of their celebrations. Or this may be a loaf of bread which they are all attempting to nibble at the same time, rather like bobbing for apples.
It is likely that some of the imagery relates to a few, if not all of the Seven Deadly Sins, particularly Gluttony and Lust. Due to the competition between religious orders, the nobility and the wealth of the guilds in the 15th Century, members of the monastic orders in various houses were often cynically accused of dissolute behaviour. We know that there was hostility in ’s-Hertogenbosch from the town fathers who tried to limit the wealth and influence of the many religious groups, so this commission may be related to such feelings. On the table between the monk and nun is a bowl of cherries, which could refer to joining in love or the sin of Lust, as represented in iconography of the ‘Garden of Love’. The wine jug suspended over the prow of the boat, perhaps implies that love, which may have been fuelled by drink, needs to be cooled. Two naked men swim in the water alongside the ship, one reaches up for replenishment of his wine-bowl. Gluttony is represented by the peasant cutting down the roast goose tied to the mast, while another man vomits over the back of the boat that is being guided by a giant spoon as its rudder. A jester with asses ears poking through his hat, sits on a branch enjoying his drink, as does a woman near the prow, offering drink to the man cooling the wine-bottle. Amid the lower foliage on the mast we see the small head of a nun on the jester’s pole. In this picture the ‘religious’ are not regarded as ‘wise’. The foliate mast may refer to spring-time festivals, which were both religious and folk celebrations and renowned for their moral licence. The drinkers ignore the fish hanging from a branch, which would give more sustenance. If this fish represents the ICTHUS, the significance of ignoring it is even stronger.
ALLEGORY OF GLUTTONY AND LUST
c1500-1510 Yale University Gallery, New Haven. Oil on Panel. 36cm x 32 cm.
This is thought to be the lower section of the ‘Ship of Fools’ wing discussed above. An obese helmeted man sits astride a wine barrel surrounded by thinner, naked swimming figures attempting to drink from it. Closer to shore an elderly man carries away on his head a platter with a meat pie. On the shore are the discarded clothes, clogs, hats, belts and undergarments of the swimmers. From beneath the hat a wooden instrument emerges, which I have been unable to identify or decode.
On shore, beneath a canopy an amorous couple embrace as they drink from a cup. They may continue the theme of lust fuelled by drink. The roof of the tent is richly decorated with jewelled decorations, which implies that they are of a wealthier class than the revellers beyond. The foolishness of the whole scene reaches across all levels of society.
CASTING THE STONE / THE STONE OPERATION.
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 48 cm. x 35 cm.
Eight versions of this image survive, and the theme was repeated by other Netherlandish artists including Pieter Bruegel the Elder. One version belonged to Philip of Burgundy, youngest illegitimate son of Philip the Good. The figures in the Prado version may be by assistants with the landscape background by Bosch.
Like The Conjuror, it explores human gullibility. The scene shows a fictional quack operation to relieve a man of his stupidity by removing a stone of folly from his brain. The man is tied to a chair, while a monk and nun observe. The inscription reads: ‘Meester snijt die key eras, Mijne name Is lubbert das.’ / ‘Master cut away the stone, my name is Lubbert Das’ Lubbert is also the name given to other stupid characters in Dutch literature and folk plays of the time. The painting is based on a Dutch proverb implying that stupid people had stones in their heads. The stupidity included his belief that an operation like this could improve intelligence. The stupidity of the surgeon is also implied by the unusual iconography of the funnel on his head, similar to a fool’s head-dress. He extracts from the skull a flower, not a stone. The same type of flower lies on the table; it is probably a tulip, as the Dutch word for the flower may also be used to refer to foolishness and stupidity.
The picture also appears to include Bosch’s scepticism about the holiness of clerics, as the figure in monk’s habit may be blessing or anointing the victim, getting him drunk from the wine-jug to relieve the pain of the operation, or indulging in the wine himself and looking on with approval.
The woman leaning on the table has a book on her head is interpreted by some to be a nun. She is in the pose of ‘Sloth’, with her chin resting on her hand. Some commentators believe the book refers satirically to a Flemish custom of wearing amulets made out of books or texts of scripture for luck, rather like phylacteries, She may depict religious folly. We do not know her relationship to the man enduring the operation. If she is his wife, the bulging purse at her waste, may suggest that if the outcome of the operation is disastrous, she will not need to be too concerned. The patient’s wealth may be referred to in the decorative purse-belt hanging on the operating chair. His rather exaggerated bulging cod-piece may be jokingly intended to relate directly to the purse at the woman’s waste, as they are both compositionally aligned. I can find no precedent for the iconography of the book on her head, nor the funnel on the surgeon’s head. The book may refer to her failure or disinclination to read, thus increasing her folly. The figures imply than none here are scholars, and may relate to another contemporary proverb. I doubt if it refers to the far later tradition of walking with a book on the head to learn posture, as books at the time were too precious objects to drop.
Similar images of the foolishness of the world were common in Northern Europe, in literature, like Sebastian Brandt’s Ship of Fools, engravings and paintings [1494]. Images of Folly, like the courtly fool, set up a mirror to daily life and challenged people to reflect on and amend their lived, faith, values, priorities and activities. Behind the head of the bogus doctor, a gallows may suggest the ultimate outcome of foolishness, dishonesty and the failings and corruption of the world in which the figures live. The gallows point upward to the city beyond. The church towers and spires suggest that spiritual truth is more important than the money-making foolish enterprises in which these figures are engaged.
THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE FOUR LAST THINGS c1505-1510
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 120 cm x 150 cm
This work is painted on a table-top. It entered the Spanish royal collection at the Escorial in 1574 and was hung in the king’s bedroom at the king’s orders. We do not know its original owner, but it was possibly commissioned as a piece of furniture for the home of a wealthy Northern collector. It was probably designed by Bosch but completed by himself with workshop assistants. It was copied in several versions. The Prado original is mostly thought to date from Bosch’s early period, due to the flatness of some colour. It lacks his later sophistication in handling of paint. However some of the costumes may not have entered general fashion until about 1490, so it may belong to his ‘middle period’ up to 1500.
The scenes, each labelled in Latin, are arranged around a circle, formed as the eye of God, with Christ resurrected from the tomb (or in the position which he takes in representations of the ‘Mass of St. Gregory’) in the centre of the pupil. The eye is labelled: ‘Cave, cave, deus videt’ / ‘Beware, beware, God is watching’. The table is a mirror in which the world is meant to view itself as they believed God views it. The German humanist Jakob Wimpheling [14560-1528] is among several writers and preachers who used this theme.
In roundels around the pupil of the eye are ranged examples of the activities of various social classes in the world, which God scrutinises – rich and poor, monks and nuns, charlatans and fools. This wheel-like arrangements is found in other mediaeval representations of the subject, and may be intended to indicate that such sins are universal. Above and below the eye scrolls are inscribed: Above : “For they are a nation void of counsel, neither is there any understanding in them.” “O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end.” Below is a quotation from Deut.32:28-29: “I will hide my face from them; I will see what their end shall be.”
This end is represented around the corners of the table in four other roundels - ‘Four Last Things’, representing the inevitable outcome of falling into the sins: Death Judgement, Hell and Heaven or Paradise. These images may reflect the late teachings of Denis the Carthusian [1420-1471], who wrote in a local Dutch monastery towards the end of his life. They are less finely painted than the Seven Deadly Sins, so are thought to be painted by Bosch’s workshop. Surprisingly the representation of Hell is not populated by the plethora of strange beasts common in Bosch’s later works.
The scenes around the pupil are set in the contemporary landscape or urban environment:
· Gluttony - men eating greedily all that a wife brings to the table.
· Sloth - A robed man, perhaps an ecclesiastic, dozes by the fire neglecting his spiritual duties as a nun holds out a rosary to encourage him to pray.
· Lust - Several couples making love in and around a tent
· Pride - A lady admiring vainly her new headgear in a mirror which is held by a half-hidden demon, also wearing an elaborate headdress in mockery.
· Anger - Drunk men arguing and brawling outside a tavern
· Avarice - A judge accepting bribes
· Envy - A rejected lover jealously watching his more successful rival wooing a woman at her window.
ST. JOHN ON PATMOS
Gemaldegalerie, Berlin. Oil on Panel. 63 cm. x 43 cm.
Considering the wild potential for Bosch of illustrating the range of visions in the Apocalypse, his panel of St. John on Patmos is particularly reserved. The saint dressed in flesh colour, looks up from his rock. His gaze is directed by a blue angel towards a vision of the Christ-child on Mary’s lap in heaven. Mary sits on a crescent moon, linking her to the woman and her child of Revelation 12:1-16. In the distance we see what appear to be the towers of a Flemish town, so this is hardly the Aegean isle of the saint’s banishment. It may imply that we too in our environment could have as clear visions of heaven as were granted to John. However, in the scene there are signs of threat; among the sailing ships are some which are burning, as in the vision of the Second Trumpet [Rev.8:8-9], where a third of the ships of the sea are burned. The artist did not use this as an excuse to fill his composition with the horrors of Revelation. His intention seems to have been more subtle, to create a contemplative devotional image.
John is poised at the point of writing down what he receives from heaven. His pen-case with lid is at his feet, point a compositional focus towards the demonic figure behind him. Bosch was not always original and innovatory in his compositions. (The figure of Christ, the composition in his small Crucifixion painting seems to have been influenced by woodcut prints and a mural in the City Church of St. John in ’s-Hertogenbosch c1455 by his grandfather Jan van Aken.) He sometimes developed ideas from contemporary engravings and the marginal illustrations in manuscripts. St. John’s figure is almost identical to Martin Schongauer’s engraving of St. John on Patmos c.1480. This also included a wispy tree and the vision of Mary and Jesus, though in the engraving Mary is standing. The angel of Revelation and the demon are additions from Bosch’s imagination. In Schongauer’s engraving St John’s symbol of an eagle is more prominent and higher in the composition, acting as the revelatory spirit, above which the heavenly vision appears. Bosch’s St. John is watched from the foreground by a black raptor, far smaller than his traditional symbol of an eagle. It looks more like a hawk which Bosch would have seen used for hunting. Perhaps its relative smallness was intentional, to focus the viewer’s contemplative attention on St. John and his vision rather than his emblem.
The bird’s full attention and expression of distaste, is focused towards the only surreal Bosch-like element in the picture, which stands on the ground behind John. This strange hybrid, black-and-white armoured creature is part insect, part lizard or wasp,, with a human head and glasses. It may represent the evil which exiled John on Patmos, though it hardly depicts one of Domitian’s Roman Imperial military soldiers. It is more likely to represent an Apocalyptic creature. In that case, it most resembles the swarming locusts with scorpion tails, iron breast-plates and wings of the Vision of the Fifth Trumpet [Rev.9:3-11] “Then from the smoke came locusts on the earth, and they were given authority like the authority of scorpions of the earth… On their heads were what looked like crowns of gold; their faces were like human faces… they had scales like iron breastplates, and the noise of their wings was like the noise of many chariots with horses rushing into battle. They have tails like scorpions, with stingers, and in their tails is their power to harm people for five months]. but there the resemblance ends, for the creature does not fit other aspects of the description: “ In appearance the locusts were like horses equipped for battle… their hair like women’s hair, and their teeth like lions’ teeth… They have as king over them the angel of the bottomless pit; his name in Hebrew is Abaddon, and in Greek he is called Apollyon.” The figure does not swarm, but in his hand he holds a barbed iron bar, like those used for torture in many of Bosch’s visions of Hell, based on instruments used for ripping cooked meat off a roast.
This small panel is most likely to be intended as an encouragement to meditation on a vision of heaven, encouraging the contemplative viewer to consider the future and pray for a clear insight into faith and direction for life. The demonic figure is a warning, but his lack of dominance in the painting shows that Christ’s spiritual world will ultimately triumph.
CHRIST CARRYING THE CROSS
Palacio Real, Madrid. Oil on Panel. 150 cm x 94 cm
This very concentrated composition is set against the exotic architecture of Jerusalem, as in the background of the Prado Epiphany Triptych and Brussels Christ on the Cross with Donors and Saints. Between Jerusalem and the Road to Calvary Jesus’ mother kneels weeping in the arms of John. Their isolation from the rest of the scene helps to focus contemplative attention and empathy upon these two small figures, without distraction from the larger face of Christ immediately below them in the composition. The whole composition is far more focused than the busy earlier Christ Carrying the Cross in Vienna. It seems more sensitively designed for contemplative devotion than most of Bosch’s works apart from the London ‘Christ Crowned with Thorns’. The viewer was obviously intended to empathise with Christ and his mother, but also to imitate Jesus in the patience with which he endured suffering, as Thomas a Kempis and other contemplative mystics encouraged.
The figures are condensed into a compositional triangle in the upper left of the panel, formed by the bar of the Tau Cross, while a solder walks before. The soldier looks out at us, and seems the most portrait-like of all Bosch’s figures. Christ alone occupies the lower half of the composition, which focuses attention on him. Like the London Christ Crowned with Thorns, Jesus is the only figure whose features seem patient and calm, with a sense of at peace and wholeness, despite his suffering. As with the Vienna Christ Carrying the Cross, Jesus’ steps endure extra torture, through spiked blocks hanging to bang on his ankles and soles. All the other characters in the crowd seem distorted in character and physiognomy in some way. The soldier, while a handsomely painted portrait, has cold eyes and a firm-set jaw. Simon of Cyrene, portrayed as an elderly man in white, determinedly helps to carry the weight of the base of the Cross. He is being commanded reprimanded or accused by a bearded elderly man in blue, with a ‘besague’ armour-plate on his shoulder, like that of the figure in black in the National Gallery’s Christ Crowned with Thorns.
The crowd seem to represent different facets of society, but none appear to be poor. Nobles, merchants, visitors in foreign headdresses, two more soldiers behind the crowded heads and a bald figure whipping Jesus, who is dressed more like a noble or priest than as a soldier. Only Christ himself is dressed in a in drab, humble colour, the brown of a Franciscan, while Simon of Cyrene’s white robes suggest his innocence within the scene.
LAST JUDGEMENT 1505
Akademie der bildenden Kunst, Vienna. Oil on Panel. Central Panel 164 cm. x 127 cm. Wings 167 cm x 60 cm.
A triptych of this subject was commissioned by Philip the Handsome in 1504 at the price of 36 guilders. The main panel of that commission was described as being 9 foot high and 11 ft. wide. But that was probably not the triptych in Vienna, which is of a slightly smaller size, though still the largest of Bosch’s surviving works. Philip’s altarpiece is probably lost, though some believe the panel in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich to be a fragment of the original. The Vienna triptych may be a replica on a smaller scale or it may be a completely different work for a different commission.
Outer Wings
The saints in grisaille on the outer face of the wings of the triptych suggest that it may well have been for the Habsburg dynasty or a noble Flanders patron. Sadly the saddle-shaped coats of arms in the arches below are empty, so do not help us identify the patron. The figures represent St. James the Great, patronal Saint of Spain, and St Bavo, revered in Holland and patron saint of Ghent, where Charles, Philip’s son and heir had been born in 1500. (This saint has also been possibly identified as St Hippolytus, who shares with Bavo the symbol of a falcon.) St James walks as a pilgrim through the landscape carrying a cloak on his staff. St Bavo, in more contemporary dress, stands in an arch, giving to the poor, the widow and the orphans from his purse, with urban houses in the background. He holds his falcon on his arm. These calm grisaille images are quieting, while the open triptych is a riot of colour and action, depicting the First and Last Things.
Left-Hand Wing
The depiction of Paradise on the left wing shows, in the foreground, the creation of Eve, through whom the Fall was thought to have come, the Temptation to eat the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and the Expulsion from Eden. Above is depicted the Expulsion of the Rebel Angels from heaven falling from the clouds below a glowing vaguely painted figure of God the Father, crowned with a triple crown, similar to that of a mediaeval pope. The fall of human beings is being paralleled with that of the angels, whose leader, in legend envied Adam’s relationship with God so caused his fall. One legend popular in the Middle Ages suggested that God created Adam and Ever to fill the earth and replace the emptiness caused by the Rebel Angels’ fall from grace. The figure creating Eve in the foreground is closer in resemblance to the figure of Christ in glory in the central panel. Noticeably his features are very similar to those of Adam, suggesting that he is ‘created in his image’.
Central Panel
The imagery of heaven in the upper section of the central panel is less imaginatively detailed than the depictions of the judged Earth below and Hell in the right-hand wing. It leaves more to the worshipper’s or viewer’s imagination. Scenes of the bliss of heaven are hardly described in scripture and are less easy to imagine and visualise than scenes of suffering. Perhaps, as Thomas Aquinas suggested, the viewer is intended to trust the promise of heaven rather than imagine it too closely. The foreground of the left wing would suggest that we await a return to the Paradise relationship with God, which was lost when Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden. In his depiction of heaven Bosch suggests bliss more by painting heavenly light around Christ, following Aquinas’ imagery of heaven as a place where the redeemed are bathed in the divine light of God’s presence. We see only a handful of souls enjoying this light, whereas most of the central panel and the right hand panel depict various forms of temptation to evil and the punishments for them. In a panel in Venice from a lost triptych, the light is shown as a vortex towards which souls are raised by the angels. In the central panel, few find their way from the judgements and temptations of the world below to the more distant view of a handful of blessed around Christ’s throne in the upper segment of the picture. This reflects the contemporary belief that in judgement a far greater number would be condemned than saved. Most of the central panel is devoted to the scenes of degradation on earth which Christ is judging from above. The condemnation for these extends onto the right wing.
Below heaven, in the central panel the majority of humankind, having indulged in false practices, are being judged and punished accordingly. Figures are mutilated, burnt by fire, imprisoned in torturous cages, tread spiked wheels which run engines of torture, are fried in pans, roasted on spits, drowned and boiled in barrels, beaten impaled on wheels or thorn trees. Some of the weapons of the demonic army resemble engines of war: cannons, early tanks, battering rams, impaling lances and blades. One wonders whether Goya’s later series of prints ‘Disasters of War’ or other imaginative horrors were partly influenced by viewing similar works in the Spanish Royal collection.
As in many mediaeval descriptions of Hell, each sin appears to be given its own punishment, though may cannot be precisely identified. We see Gluttony fed by slithering snakes or made to constantly drink from a huge barrel, A Slothful man is endlessly carried around on the back of a demon in a basket. The Lustful are ogled by monsters, impaled, sucked at and ridden by toads; Anger is beaten by demons. Many other figures are impaled, tortured or abused in violently imaginative ways that presumably suggest their besetting earthly sins.’
Right hand Panel
In the right hand panel Bosch portrayed the damned descending to the pit of hell to contrast the rise of soul in the central panel. The distance may represent the mountain of purgatory from which flames emerge. In front of this a ship disgorges people in to the water who emerge naked and wade towards the mountain.
The fires of hell are bursting through the surface of the Earth in places, setting the background buildings of the environment in silhouette. They resemble a war-torn land or the imagery of the 13th Century hymn ‘Dies Irae’ / ‘The Wrath of God’, of the world dissolving in glowing ashes. Around this desolate landscape many smaller figures rise from graves or receive their punishment in groups rather like prisoner-of-war.
The depictions of the horrors of Hell might have been inspired by contemporary writers such as Jan van Ruysbroek, Dionysius van Rijkel, The Vision of Tnugdalus, or Henry Suso. They are emotive, conforming to Thomas Aquinas call for religious painting in churches not just to instruct, but to “stir devout passion.” William Durandus’ Rationale Divinorum Officiorum’ stated his belief that the human spirit could be more moved by viewing an image than through scripture [Lib.i, chap. iii, sect.4].
Figures in the picture are in many different proportions, some huge, like the green figure in the centre right breathing fire and the sorcerer above him. In the centre a crawling figure in green with a dark cowl and black lion-like face has an amorphous body. The black demons are depicted in many different forms and textures
The excessive emphasis on judgement and punishments is far from the focus of modern Christian preaching and teaching, where more emphasis is placed on God’s grace and our positive call to begin to build God’s Kingdom now and to enjoy and anticipate salvation. Modern Christianity is more embarrassed about speaking of Judgement and Hell, particularly because of the excesses of emphasis in past Church preaching on flights of fancy about judgement as though works like these by artists like Bosch would be literal. James Joyce expressed his sarcasm at this emphasis in writing the Jesuit Hell-fire sermon of Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
THE HAYWAIN
Prado, Madrid. Oil on Panel, Central Panel 135 cm x 100 cm
Monastery of San Lorenzo, El Escorial. Oil on Panel. Central Panel 140 x 100 cm. Wings 147 cm. x 66 cm.
Two versions of The Haywain survive in the Escorial (after 1496) and the Prado (1508). The dating and authorship of both paintings have been disputed, as there are discrepancies in style, which lead critics to believe that they are both by assistants. Both are in poor condition, having been heavily restored at various times and the wings of both appear to be by workshop assistants.. The Escorial version is more carefully painted and detailed than most of Bosch’s work. The Prado version, by contrast, is more heavily and thickly painted than is common in Bosch’s other panels. Another version bought by the widow of Hendrick III of Nassau-Breda was lost during its original delivery.
Like Casting the Stone, the main panel is based on a Netherlandish proverb. The work includes many themes grouped around the ideas of sin and redemption. Around the hay wagon are many scenes figures indulging themselves without thought that God might be viewing and assessing (rather like the theme of The Table of the Seven Deadly Sins). This metaphorical image interprets the wealth and pleasures of the world as a hay-cart. Later the image influenced several Flemish engravings of about 1550, which use a similar metaphor.
Closed Wings
On the closed outer wings, A traveller with a journeyman’s basket on his back (perhaps a pilgrim, a journey-man-worker, a merchant or just a man on his travels), fends-off a dog with the heavy butt of his staff. A surviving fragment of another work [c1515-16] discussed below as ‘The Pilgrim / Wayfarer’ also shows the same figure. This could be a representation of any of us on the pilgrimage of life. He is about to cross a bridge. .In the middle-background of this scene a group have robbed and stripped a man and are in the process of tying him to a tree. In another field a shepherd and his wife dance together to another man’s bagpipes and neglect their responsibility to their sheep. In the far distance is a gibbet and cross show the inevitable end for sinners, but may also be intended to point the viewer’s mind towards Calvary. In the immediate foreground the traveller’s staff point towards an animal skeleton, probably a sheep.
Left-Hand Wing
When open, the triptych should be read from left to right as was Bosch’s Triptych of the Last Judgement. Like the left panel in that triptych, the scenes represent the Creation of Eve and the Fall, but in the reverse of the earlier triptych. Here the Expulsion from Eden is in the foreground, Eating the Fruit of the Tree of Good and Evil in the middle and the Creation of Eve in the distance. This makes sense, since Adam and Eve’s family then expand to populate the earth in the central panel. Above the image of Eden, the Fall of the Rebel Angels appears more like a swarm of vicious, monstrous insects invading the earth below. According to St Augustine, when the angels fell they lost their beauty and became monstrous.
Central Panel
In the central panel many groups of figures from different sections of society are shown indulging in all the broad activities of earth. The heavily laden harvest wagon, represents the full bounty of Creation. It is followed by a procession of important figures on horseback. They are led by an Emperor and a Pope (identified by some scholars as Alexander VI), closely followed by a prince with a monk as his advisor and a richly dressed noble. Behind are members of court and figures from various religious orders. All these, as the owners of land, its wealth and its bounty, should be responsibly stewarding the resources of the world, not ignoring sin or remaining proudly aloof. Immediately in front of this procession is a group of soldiers and other religious figures, including one in the dress of an Eastern patriarch or Jewish High Priest. He is posed like Christ facing by his persecutors. Another similarly clad figure stumbles over a ladder and falls under the front wheel of the cart. His pose also resembles the iconography of the fallen Christ being led to Calvary. Those leading him and helping to draw the cart are a wild array of hybrid creatures: a fish with legs, a human with the head of a mouse, a man with tree branches for limbs, a cat in a priest’s cowl, and several other strangely masked or grinning monsters.
The scene before the cart contains many scenes of vice. The ‘great and the good’ processing with the cart should be preventing this and acting responsibly as the leaders of the land, but they seem oblivious to what they are witnessing. Most of the figures around the harvest wagon are grabbing at lumps of hay, as if enjoying what is reaped and gleaned from the earth. But they are also acting licentiously. They hay may be a metaphor for the worthlessness of worldly possessions. A Netherlandish song of about 1470 used the haystack as metaphor for Creation, which God had stacked up for the benefit of humankind. But it also described all worldly wealth as: ‘al hoy’ / all hay’. This implies that what we desire to retain for ourselves is ultimately worthless. From 1563 records survive of a religious carnival procession in Antwerp featuring a hay-cart ridden by a demon labelled ‘Deceitful’, from which people plucked hay to play out the meaninglessness of possessions. This may have been influenced by Bosch’s work or they might both have been influenced by a common contemporary tradition in plays or tableaux. A similar allegory is also found in Petrarch’s Triumphs, and is represented in several other contemporary works, including tapestries and engravings.
The scene includes various sins, but focuses particularly on Avarice and the desire for physical gain. From this general self-centred sin, many other sins and vices develop, as described in Laurent Gallus’ King’s Dream’ [1279] or Guillaume de Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ [1330-35]. On top of the wagon of hay ride a group of lovers. One young noble serenades his love with a lute, while his music is being attentively pointed-out by a younger man, perhaps a music tutor. Behind them is a less courtly image of love in a more rustic couple who embrace amorously, spied on by an old man from behind the bush. Out of the tree emerges a golden bottle on a stick, implying that an elixir of love, or more likely ‘drink’ is fuelling this amorous adventure. On the other side of the tree an owl of neglected wisdom is persecuted by birds and below him a winged demon plays through his elongated nose the real tune that is igniting their passions. This demonic figure may be the character of ‘Deceitful’ from the Antwerp procession, described in the last paragraph.
Below the wagon, on the ground, monks and a woman brawl, a straw-hatted man holds a knife at the throat of another on the ground, a woman attacks an obese man with a knife, while he wields a stick at her. Beside them a man reclines with his head under the sumptuous skirts of a woman. In the foreground some of the scenes seem at first innocuous. A top-hatted man leads a child, while carrying a baby in his hood; two women, one noble, the other a servant or nurse greet, in the iconographic pose of the Visitation of Mary and Elizabeth. Another nurse beside them bathes a baby, as in the iconography of the Nativity. However each of these elements of the scene may well represent the abandoning of responsibility for children, as another baby clings neglected behind the noble-woman’s dress. In the centre a quack doctor has set up a stall with potions and pseudo-scientific diagrams, and is treating a helpless victim. His purse is filled with straw, implying the illegitimacy of his treatment and the meaninglessness of any wealth obtained by it. To the right a group of nuns fill sacks with hay. One (the Church gathering in its wealth) holds her rosary while an obese monk neglects his own rosary in order to ask her for a drink. (This resembles the scene of Sloth in Bosch’s Seven Deadly Sins.) Another nun holds a rope attached to the belt of a blue-robed fool playing bagpipes, suggesting that all happening here is foolishness, even the gleanings of the Church.
Only the angel on the cart prays and draws attention to the Man of Sorrows in the clouds of the heavens above, who is raising his hands in judgement. However none of those active in the scene pay any attention to the angel’s example and encouragement towards piety. They are too involved in enjoying the surface pleasures of earth.
Like The Garden of Earthly Delights, this painting appears to have been designed to be viewed close-up by a connoisseur, rather than just from a distance at an ecclesiastical altar. It may have been intended for a private chapel, where it could be viewed and considered in greater detail, or a secular room, where it might have acted as a moral reminder, like a ‘memento mori’.
Right-Hand Wing
The scene of Hell on the right-hand wing is simpler than the Vienna Last Judgement., perhaps to balance the simplicity of the composition of Eden in the left-hand wing. A ruined building is silhouetted against the red flames of Hell or Purgatory in the distance. Below this, naked figures struggle in water, as in the Vienna panel. Demons are helping to construct an enormous round tower, perhaps intended to represent the ‘castle-keep of Hell. This may be intended to represent an infernal counter-part to the ‘heavenly mansions’ promised to the faithful in John 14:2, which Gregory the Great had described as built of ‘golden stones created by good deeds on earth’. Here it rises, strengthened by evil deeds. It has also been interpreted as being a symbol of the Pride of the condemned. Such Pride was at the core of the tower of Babel, attempting but failing to reach heaven by worldly means and ambition. Now the demons are building their own imperial palace or fortress, but it will not be able to withstand God’s judgement.
Below the tower is a lecher being sucked by a demonic toad. Demons drive a naked figure carrying a chalice and riding a cow over a bridge. In the mediaeval vision of Hell by Tundale, such a figure is tormented for having stolen a cow on earth, by being forced to ride across a precariously narrow bridge over the mouth of Hell. On that bridge were others of the damned who had committed sacrilegious acts and robbed churches, which may account for the inclusion of the chalice In the foreground Bosch painted Greed, tortured by being consumed by a monstrous, obese fish. Another man, perhaps representing Bestiality, is being attacked by dogs and a creature with antlers at both ends, pursued by a large hunter-demon which seems to be using a skinny man as a prop to direct his spear. The man has been eviscerated and gutted like a hunter’s trophy..
The whole triptych is full of disparate detail, but its main message is clear, to emphasise that pursuing worldly pleasure is dehumanising and leads to sin and judgement.
THE PILGRIM / WAYFARER
Boymans-van-Beuningen Museum, Rotterdam. Oil on Panel. 71.5 cm. roundel.
On surface-reading this appears to be one of Bosch’s simplest images, but it is also enigmatic. The figure is a reworking of the figure represented on the outer wings of The Haywain, but his identity and the purpose of the image are uncertain. Beside his spoon the pelt of a cat, (not present in The Haywain) hangs from his journey-man’s basket. He may make a living partly by such merchandise as catskins were used in popular medicine for protection against rheumatism. But the skin could also be a symbol of the futility of passion (like a ‘tom-cat’) or a hint that human life is precarious, as cats could be signs of bad luck. The knife at the man’s belt is more prominently displayed than in the Haywain. This could be for protection or for his itinerant work. The awl with waxed thread, prominently displayed in his hat suggests that he may make or mend shoes as part of his living. He fends off the brindled dog, which growls at him rather than snapping at his stick in the former painting. The role of a travelling peddler, tinker or journeyman, though common in that society, was despised. They were often considered to be swindlers or ruffians, and were banned from some Netherlandish towns. However the figure here seems to have a more iconic meaning, as though we are to look at him to consider the morality and precarious nature of life and journeying.
The traveller appears to have just passed a tavern and be looking back hesitantly. The jug displayed on a pole on the roof of the building identifies it as an inn. It is not apparent whether he has stopped there, though his expression seems apprehensive, yet with a slight smile. It is similarly unclear whether he is waving his cap at the woman who watches him through the window, accompanied by another woman in the shadows of the room. Is he allured by the possibilities or temptations there, waving goodbye or resisting the temptations offered? The house does not appear particularly alluring, but his ripped clothes imply that he may not be able to afford to be choosy. The building is in disrepair, with leaky broken thatch; unhinged shutters hanging loose and the windows have broken panes of glass. It appears to be a house of ill-repute, judging from the armoured soldier giving a woman a last embrace in the doorway and a peasant urinating around the corner. Outside hangs the sign of a duck or deformed swan, perhaps denoting that this is a house of foolishness or vanity. The caged magpie by the door may suggest that this could also be a place of entrapment and evil potential. The magpie’s mate looks on and awaits the traveller by the gate. The dove on the edge of its cote in the gable of the inn may be threatened by a hawk in the sky above - innocence threatened by sin. (In many Netherlandish paintings the hawk may also represent Christ hunting down sin, but there the victims of the hawk are usually a duck or other less innocent birds than a dove.)
In the courtyard a cockerel stands on a mound of grain in front of the empty barrel, which may be its coop. The family of pigs eating at a trough has led some to interpret the traveller as the Prodigal Son in the process of returning to his father after resorting to feeding with swine. The painting was given that title for many years. But this interpretation is probably not the case. He is not in as dishevelled and ragged as is common in most images of the Prodigal Son, and no other symbols in the painting refer to the biblical parable.
The traveller’s poverty is noted by his ripped trousers and odd shoes. A popular Netherlandish expression: “op een slof en een schoen” / “on a slipper and a shoe” alluded to being “down at heel”. However, a sexual connotation is also possible as “to wear out one’s shoes” and “to wear slippers” / “auslatcshen”, in popular German of the time could mean to have excessive illicit relations. It is suggested that he may have dressed to depart in a hurry. His bandaged calf implies that he has been wounded through some troubles on his journey. The meaning of his expression is far from clear: we do not know whether he regrets passing or is leaving the inn? Is he relieved to have passed without incident? Is he perhaps considering turning aside from his journey to enter the inn? Or have his wounds been received at the inn, perhaps from the soldier at the door? His cap points him forward, and the awl stuck prominently in it suggests that he is travelling off to make his living.
His journey ahead seems far from easy. The bull and the magpie at the gate imply that there may be threats ahead. Above him on the dead branch of a tree an owl watches, but it is not clear whether it is watching him or the Great Tit pecking below it, which it may be preparing to attack (another symbol of possible further threats to the traveller. Whatever the case, the picture suggests that on his future journey he will face difficulties, temptations, dangers and possible evils. The gate to the field ahead of him may have further spiritual connotation: Perhaps it represents Christ as the Gate through which one can find shelter or pasture [Jn.10:9], the gate to the ‘narrow way, which leads to life’ [Matt.7:13-14; Lk.13:24]; the gate to eternal life into which the righteous shall enter [Psalm 118:20] or the gateway to the path that may lead to destruction or Hell. Prominent above the gate, in the distance Bosch has placed the pole and wheel on which the bodies of the executed were displayed. Further on is a church or fortified house which might represent the security of a spiritual alternative for him.
Dangers were common to any contemporary traveller or pilgrim in Bosch’s time and ’s-Hertogenbosch was on a regular international trade route. The scenes of robbery, debauched pleasure and dangers to life in the background of the Pilgrim/Wayfarer on the closed panels of The Haywain represent some of these dangers. Similar problems were included in writings about the spiritual challenges to humankind in the tales of ‘Elckerlijc or Jedermann (the Netherlandish and German equivalents to ‘Everyman’). On a spiritual level the metaphor of human life as a ‘pilgrimage’ was considered in works like Deguilleville’s ‘Pilgrimage of the Life of Man’ or the mystical German Dominican writings of Henry Suso [c1295-1366] (also known as Heinrich von Berg / Heinrich Seuse, who wrote under the name ‘Amandus’). The latter described human beings as “miserable beggars who wander wretchedly in our sorrowful exile.” (This could have become the conclusion of those who came to their senses after the pleasures of The Garden of Earthly Delights have lost their thrill.)
Whatever the precise interpretation, it is evident that the panel suggests that the pitfalls that beset us on the journey of life are spiritual as well as physical, so our protection needs to be spiritual, prayerful and watchful. In a similar way to the painting of St Christopher, this picture was probably intended to encourage such prayers.
THE GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS.
Prado: Madrid. Oil on Panel. Central panel 220 cm. x 195 cm. Side panels 220 cm x 97 cm.
The complicated yet unified composition and the sophisticated universally-embracing iconography of this triptych suggests that it was painted late in Bosch’s mature career, sometime after 1500. It is Bosch’s masterpiece and most famous work, though many of its precise references and meanings remains obscure. We cannot be sure who commissioned it: many noble Burgundian families had a taste for unusual and often obscure allegories. The rhetorical schools of Flanders influenced many courtiers in Malines, Brussels and further afield.. Shortly after Bosch’s death, we know that in 1517 it was owned by the connoisseur collector Hendrick III of Nassau-Breda in his sumptuously decorated palace of Brussels. It was describes there by an Italian visitor, Antonio de Beatis. After Hendrick’s death and that of his son it passed to his nephew, William of Orange. The Duke of Alba then confiscated it. In 1591 Philipp II gained it from the Alba estate. Through all its various ownerships it was obviously treasured, as it is in far better condition than many of Bosch’s other large paintings.
Outer Panels:
The closed outer panels show the world on the evening of the third day of Creation, with the land emerging from the waters, surrounded by the firmament and light and darkness. At the top is a quotation from Ps.33:9 “Ipse dicit et facta sunt, Ipse mandavit et create sunt”: “For he spoke and it was done; he commanded and it stood fast”. Next to this inscription is a small representation of God the Father overseeing all. The firmament is represented as a globe shining like glass or a water-droplet. Dark clouds open in the firmament, nearest the figure of God the Father, shining light within sphere, illuminating the waters and waves from which the earth has emerged. The earth is a flat round plate, suspended between the upper firmament and the waters beneath, broken by sharp mineral outcrops and rolling hills. On its surface trees and strange exotic growths are already forming, which are fully realized in colour in the inner panels.
Left-Hand Wing:
The inner panel of the left-hand wing depicts Paradise in bright colour: the greyness of outer panel of the earth is brought alive by the light of God as the triptych opens. The centre of the scene depicts the Creation of Eve, but unlike Bosch’s other triptychs this does not include the Fall and the Expulsion from Paradise. Perhaps these are merely implied in the subject of the whole triptych. This world around Adam and Eve is populated by beautifully detailed creatures, including strange imaginative birds, reptiles and animals, as well as creatures obviously derived from Bestiary illustrations – an elephant, giraffe, unicorn and porcupine. Out of the water on the right strange monstrous creatures emerge, one with three heads, another with bloated egg-like body. These may be unidentified monsters from the bestiary, but to modern post-evolutionary-theory eyes, they remind us of primaeval life emerging from the waters, about which Bosh, of course would have no clue. For him they probably referred to the Genesis account of Creation. But their deformity may suggest the mediaeval belief that when the Rebel Angels fell, they not only became monsters themselves, but corrupted, interbred with and distorted God’s Creation. The pink rock onto which they climb may be intentionally meant to resemble the profile of a human face. In the distance another strange-shaped pink rock is spiralled by a huge flock of birds. A procession of black birds (possibly crows) enters a cave in the base of the rock then emerges as the spiralling flock in flight.
At the centre of the water is the fountain of life that God has formed to nurture creation, of which the fountain-like pavilions in The Garden of Earthly Delights panel seem like heavy parodies. All the trees behind the Creator are fruitfully laden with red, shiny fruit. There seems to be no reason why Adam and Eve should need to bother with the fruit of the exotic tree of life growing behind Adam’s back, which looks more like an Aloe or member of a cactus family. Enough has been provided for all.
It may not be too far-fetched to interpret the scene behind the Creation of Eve as a progressive depiction of the products of the 6 days of Creation: air, rocks, plants, creatures within the waters, birds, animals, the fountain and garden of Eden, then creation of Adam and Eve surrounded by the creatures they were to name. In the central panel this creation has gone topsy-turvy, with large creatures dominating human beings, the fruit and pursuits of the earth being abused, the fountain of life being turned into a love-nest theme park. The Creator looking on replaced by sensuality. Some of the creatures created by God are being ridden or used by the humans but others have turned to control or even persecute humans. This is a reverse of the mediaeval idea of the natural order of Creation, based on Genesis 1:28-30 and 2:15, where humans should rule over and use nature while stewarding of God’s gifts responsibly.
In the Creation wing Adam looks enticingly beyond God, in the form of Christ, towards Eve, who, for the moment kneels demurely before her Creator. It is perhaps not accidental that behind her hand are a warren of rabbits, which implies, in terms of mediaeval Bestiary symbolism, that humankind is designed to reproduce and “fill the earth” [Gen.1: 28], but that sexuality will turn humankind’s attention away from the spiritual towards the sensual. This appears to be a message of the rest of the Earthly Delights triptych. St. Augustine believed that the Fall took place at the exact moment when Adam turned his eyes away from God and focused on woman as his companion, which appears to be what Bosch has depicted here. The population of this world of earthly delights have all turned their eyes away from God and are focused on enjoying, with their companions, the delights of the world. Creation was designed for them to enjoy and use but human sin perspective has put greater emphasis and focus on the Creation rather than the Creator. The triptych could almost be a visual commentary on Romans 1:18-32:
18“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of those who by their wickedness suppress the truth. 19 For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. 20 Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made. So they are without excuse; 21 for though they knew God, they did not honour him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. 22 Claiming to be wise, they became fools; 23 and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling a mortal human being or birds or four-footed animals or reptiles. 24 Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the degrading of their bodies among themselves, 25 because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.
26 For this reason God gave them up to degrading passions. Their women exchanged natural intercourse for unnatural, 27 and in the same way also the men, giving up natural intercourse with women, were consumed with passion for one another. Men committed shameless acts with men and received in their own persons the due penalty for their error. 28 And since they did not see fit to acknowledge God, God gave them up to a debased mind and to things that should not be done. 29 They were filled with every kind of wickedness, evil, covetousness, malice. Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, craftiness, they are gossips, 30 slanderers, God-haters, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, rebellious toward parents, 31 foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. 32 They know God’s decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die—yet they not only do them but even applaud others who practice them.”
Central Panel:
Many of the details of the central panel is esoteric and not easy to interpret. The scene is is brightly lit, painted in strong, stimulating colours, without shadows, perhaps intended deliberately to entice the eye, as the subjects and activities are shown to have enticed the inhabitants of the earth. The details of flowers, pavilion-like buildings and fruit gleam as if to stimulate the senses. Different groups of naked men and women, in the prime of life frolic throughout the panels. There appear to be no children or older people, but include figures from different races: three very dark-skinned figures are equally spaced in the foreground. On the back of the mallard a white man and a black woman kiss, perhaps watched jealously by the man on the back of the goldfinch who seems resigned to despair. It has been suggested that the hairy couple in a cave in the immediate lower right-hand corner may be Adam and Eve, the progenitors of all this activity. The figure behind them has been interpreted by some as Noah in whose time humanity was given a second-chance, after the flood of destruction, before humans returned to the self-centred ways depicted here.
Many of the figures touch each other, sometimes erotically or in play, a few stand on their hands gymnastically; others are feeding or being fed on the exotic fruits lying around them. The whole scene seems one of surface joy and active pleasure. The erotic allusions are particularly the reason for some commentators trying to relate Bosch to the unorthodox, loving practices and ideas of the Brethren of the Free Spirit or ‘Adamites’ The number of naked figures holding flowers and engaging in ‘love-ins’ does resemble the hippy, ‘free-love’ movements of the 1960s. However the scene also contains many disquieting details which make it fairly obvious that Bosch did not intend this to represent innocent enjoyment of pleasure, as some scholars have suggested. The Mediaeval mind-set primarily considered that since the fall nakedness was shameful. The imagery and particularly the Judgement panel imply that this represents a wide variety of the vices of humankind. Many of the figures are in close proximity to fish or other objects, either carrying them or on their heads. Being out of water, these fish may be dead or dying; they are ‘out of their intended natural element’, just as the humans represented are living out of contact with the spiritual world intended as the element for their true thriving and fulfilment. The exotic fruit the people eat may represent the expansion of humanity’s tendency to indulge in the forbidden fruit, which caused their original expulsion from Paradise.
Some figures are among birds of enormous comparative proportions. The detailed observation of all the creatures is superb, demonstrating that Bosch worked closely from nature as well as the imagination. In the centre foreground a man sitting in an enormous pot and holding a pair of cherries (symbols of being united love), is fed a berry by a duck. This is probably a symbol of the passing on of foolishness, since he neglects the naked woman standing behind him. The pair of cherries on her head implies that she would be his ideal partner. A man and a kingfisher ride in on the back of a mallard, whose mate swims nearby, surrounded by a crowd of men. This may refer to the ease by which we follow foolishness. In the centre left the pair of Hoopoes, Kingfisher, Woodpecker, Robin and Goldfinch all have benign attributes which relate to Christ in the mediaeval Bestiary. These faithful qualities may be being neglected by those indulging in more earthly pleasures. Each bird is ridden by a man, some with strange bulb-like headgear. A depressed man sits on the back of the Goldfinch, head-in-hands, while the Goldfinch seems to inadvertently feed three demons who separate him from a couple making love in the water. The couple, in their desire for one another, neglect to help a man in distress, perhaps even drowning in a barrel behind them. The imagery of the cask may imply that he is a drunkard.) The Jay and Owl suggest more of a threat, as they are negative Bestiary symbols of predating and ‘those who prefer darkness to light’. The owl may be a key to the meaning of the whole: “And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” [Jn.9:19-21]
The colouring of the panel implies that the scene is full of light but this is enjoyment of sensuous and sensual light and colour rather than spiritual light. At the centre of the Fountain of Life in the Paradise wing, an owl emerges from a hole. In the centre left of the Central Panel, a man embraces an owl. Centre-right another owl sits on a transparent pink egg, covering the heads and torsos of three entangled couples dancing blindly with fruit. This probably relates to the scene immediately behind them, where couples pick fruit from trees and picnic together. As these fruiting trees are so similar to those behind Adam and Eve in the left-hand panel, that they probably relate to the fruit of Paradise. To modern eyes the three look more like a many-armed Hindu god, but are probably a parody of the dance of the Three Graces in the garden of love, as described by Hesiod and Seneca. These are often representing as dancing with fruit or fruit-sized balls, as here. Before them a naked man on his back struggles to offer the same fruit to a naturalistically-sized Falcon sitting on his foot. The Jay, towards the centre of the panel, appears to be feeding a crowd of bathers rather like its young in a nest; he could be either fattening them up, or have lost his tendency to predation and now be as benign as the smaller song-birds . Near him a finely detailed butterfly, which may be a reference to the human soul. feeds from a thistle. One possible interpretation of this reversal in the proportions of nature could be that humanity, by its licentious behaviour has lost the moral dominance and superiority, which it once was considered to have within God’s creation. Now even the ‘bird-brained’, the hunted, and creatures once used for eating have gained dominance and value. In the modern world, aware of the ecological imbalance created by human neglect and abuse of the world, this interpretation is appealing.
Hesiod described a ‘Golden Age’ when beasts and people lived together in peace, enjoying the fruitful abundance which the earth provided. Bosch’s classical education may have meant that he knew this source, or it may have ben suggested by a patron’s intellectual advisors. But almost universal mediaeval ideas of the shame of nakedness and the superiority of virginity over sexual activity lead us to assume that Bosch is not depicting an innocent utopian ideal. As the painting is the centre of a triptych representing the loss of Paradise and the torments of Hell, this garden of love must be intended as a warning, especially against the sins of Lust and self-indulgence. The scene of Eden on the left-hand wing makes it obvious that this central panel is not a just depiction of an idyllic world untouched by sin. The cat killing a mouse or rat beside the Creation of Eve shows that the Fall is just about to happen or has begun to take place. In the mediaeval Bestiary the cat and mouse could also be symbolic of Christ hunting-down sin. A cat is also present in The Garden of Earthly Delights rising on the strange shell or scorpion-like creature carried into the circular ride by a group of men in the centre-right. Unlike his Last Judgement Triptych and more like the Haywain Triptych, Bosch shows that not all sin or evil is ugly, in fact most of the ‘delights’ in this picture are enticing.
In the middle-distance a circle of many men ride around a round pool of bathing naked women. They are mounted on a variety of creatures, horses, deer, camels, a unicorn, lion, pig and gryphon. Some of these creatures may represent the animal appetites of the riders, as riding was also sometimes used as a metaphor for sexual activity. Ibis, which also ride on the heads of the women, join in the circular ride, on the back of a goat and storks on the back of a boar. Some men carry emblems on poles, others try to impress by their prowess in riding with no-hands or in acrobatic positions. Above them soar other birds, while flying higher are stranger winged figures. Throughout the painting figures make love in a variety of ways, groupings and settings – in an organic bubble growing from an exotic flower; a muscle-shell, inside half-eaten exotic fruit, beneath a transparent umbrella, inside exotic tents, beneath canopies, hats or fruit.
‘The Garden of Love’ or the spiritual ‘Rose Garden’ are used as symbols in many mediaeval writings and artworks. Either was often used as a metaphor for living in the spiritual presence of God. It was also an image in popular poems of courtly love, as in ‘The Romance of the Rose’, originally written in the 13th Century. This was known in translations throughout Europe, including the Netherlands. Here courtly love was allegorically related to viewing the beauty of flowers or picking and savouring their scent. Bosch’s allegory interprets this far more physically and sensuously. In some manuscripts of ‘City of God’, St. Augustine’s criticism of the orgies of Ancient Rome were illustrated by nudes cavorting in a garden. Here Bosch’s image seems to be representing false ideas of Paradise.
Many of the fruits probably represent the sweetness and sensuality of temptations to pleasure. A group in the water, and those in the centre foreground enjoy grapes, while one man has the juice of the bunch squeezed into his mouth. Cherries, as mentioned earlier refer to being paired in love. Strawberries are the scent and sweet sharpness of pleasure. One male lover, near the owl-dance, appears to have a large sloe or grape over his head. The more exotic fantasy fruit probably relate to the exoticism of the setting, as in Bosh’s visionary fruit in his representations of Palestine. Some of the symbols have been identified as relating to contemporary Netherlandish sayings, popular slang, songs and proverbs. Fish were sometimes referred to as phallic symbols, or of smelling like sex. Plucking fruit and flowers sometimes referred euphemistically to the act of sex. It has been suggested that the hollow fruit may be a play on the similarity between two old Dutch words “schel” and “schil” which could mean the ‘rind’ or ‘shell’ of a fruit or to struggle with another person, including quarrelling, wrangling and wrestling in the act of love. Discarded shells of fruit might also be symbolic of feeling ultimately unsatisfied as a result of the worthlessness of the attempt at finding fulfilment solely in sensuous or sensual behaviour, outside a spiritual context.
Several mediaeval proverbs described a world turned upside-down, which may be why a number of the figures in the picture are upside-down or the morality in the scenes seems reversed, and figures and objects seem out of scale. Many of the small scenes within the painting seem to be allegories of unchastity and moral decline which may be the intention of the whole panel. The sensuous delights of the world in the central panel are being acted out within the perspective of the two wings - God’s original paradisal intention for humankind and God’s judgement upon the world’s foolishness in following its physical rather than spiritual desires. The fountains and pavilions in the background, which seem to be made of Coral, Lapis Lazuli and other semi-precious materials may be sensuous parodies of the mansions of heaven and the fountain of life at the centre of the Garden of Eden, from which life flowed to water the earth. The round pool where the women bathe, or the water in the foreground in which couples bathe and frolic together may also relate to the ‘Pool of Youth’ through which human beings were said to grow to maturity. In the central round pool the girls are not merely admired by the men who ride round to impress them and stir up their longings. The Ibises on the women’s heads indicate that they too are out to impress and entice. In the Bestiary symbolism the White Ibis stalks and feeds on serpents and their eggs, so was sometimes used as an image of Christ destroying sin, as snakes were said to flee from it. However in this ‘world-turned-upside-down’ the women are themselves shown as temptresses. The Nile ibis was also said in the Bestiary to stay near the edge of water, looking for dead fish, snakes’ eggs and carrion to scavenge. It did not know how to swim, and lazily made no effort to learn to do so. As a result it could not feed on clean fish in deep water. Though created white, it was considered to be among the filthiest of birds due its feeding on corpses, though it purged itself with its beak. Allegorically it was associated with unrepentant sinners who sought only the fruit of the flesh, rather than entering the water of baptism and feeding on the fruits of the spirit to be found there. The parallel with the temptations offered by women in the pool therefore become obvious. The men, however, do not need any persuading; they are already vigorously showing-off their prowess.
Right-Hand Wing:
The right-hand wing moves from an sensuous dream of The Garden of Earthly Delights to nightmare forms and activities, where people receive the inevitable outcome of their neglect of spiritual truth.
The scenes of Hell include many realistic elements – contemporary musical instruments, kitchen implements, eggs, rabbits or hares, but the everyday objects are being used against or in opposition to human beings, and have become threatening. Familiar objects from everyday life have changed use or scale to become alien and violent. It is almost as though the environment and human creations have tuned against those who have abused their use. The Hawk, rather than being enthroned. should be helping humans to hunt songbirds, not devouring humans in a way that makes them fart out blackbirds, as seen here. This depiction of a reversal of what were then considered the natural order, seems relevant in today’s context of environmental disasters and social threats.
Among the tortures of Hell some may relate to the five senses as well as reflecting the particular sins being punished:
Sight: The whole picture is a riot of sights, some enticing, others revolting. Particular reference to sight as well as Lust, may be the nude woman beneath the hawk’s throne, who is embraced by a dog-like demon. She is a symbol of vanity as she looks into a convex mirror in the bottom of a green demon.
Sound: A naked man is tied by demons to the neck of a lute, another to the shaft of a chanter, into which a smaller figure has been stuffed. Two are squashed in a hurdy-gurdy, one is imprisoned in a drum being beaten by a rat-like creature, another is stretched on a harp, as on a rack. The figures around them try to close their ears to the noise of a golden horn blown by an obese figure in a baby’s cap, over which flies a blue pennant emblazoned with the Turkish crescent. Mediaeval writers on morality often called Lust the “music of the flesh”. The figures closing their ears, suggest that the sounds and cries of Hell are a cacophony, which the combined sound of drums, bagpipes, hunting horns, torturing harps, screaming victims etc. would certainly be. As with the birds in The Garden of Earthly Delights, nature has been reversed: musical instruments, which should be played by human beings with joyful expression to reflect the harmony of the spheres, are now turned and become animated to torture humans and reflect their anguish.
Feeling: In the presence of the fires of Hell, the lake is frozen, with figures skating on it, one man is marooned on a boat, another has capsized into the ice. Dutch like English uses the phrase “to skate on thin ice” as a metaphor for dicing with danger. A man tries to escape by climbing the mast of another boat, but the boat is one of the pairs of floating clogs of a great white monster, the ‘Tree Man’ in the centre with trees for legs and a seed form for a body or brain. In shape he forms the profile of a human skull. Figures drink around a circular table in his seed-like brain cavity, while more figures are climbing in up a ladder. Demons force men to play enormous bagpipes on his hat. The bagpipes were commonly, the instrument of dunces or fools, who sang lewd songs, encouraging lechery. To the right side of the Tree-Man, above the lake, hangs an open lantern into which people are enticed or pushed by demons, where they will be damaged like moths attracted to a flame. The monstrous imaginative form, the enigmatic ‘Tree Man’ also survives in a detailed drawing by Bosch [Albertina, Vienna c1505-1510], but has never been satisfactorily interpreted, though many have tried. He looks backwards, perhaps watching the breaking-up of his own body. On his head in the drawing is a different headgear to that in the painting - a cogged wheel topped with an enormous pot from which a man on a ladder climbs as though building in the air with a plumb-bob. An owl mobbed by birds looks on, perhaps surprised by the man’s audacity.
Smell and Taste: A large hawk-like figure enthroned near the front-right is fed human beings, instead of a hawker’s lure and defecates them in a transparent bubble or chamber-pot, which empties into a fetid round pit filled with gasping figures, into which the greedy are being made to vomit and the avaricious shit gold coins. The hawk has a cauldron for a helmet, pots for shoes and his latest victim, as he enters the beak, perhaps in fear, expels a flock of blackbirds from his bottom. This balances the flock of birds swirling from the rock in the background of Paradise on the left wing.
In the middle-background a great war, perhaps Armageddon, is being waged in front of the burning cities of Hell or Purgatory. An enormous knife-blade like a war-engine is being wheeled out, with ears for wheels. Like the blade in the front right of the Vienna Last Judgement, this may be intended to have deliberately phallic connotations. The ears crush the minions beneath it, but the blade may be an enormous threat to castrate those sinners who have indulged the flesh.
The painting includes more of Bosch’s anticlerical references. In the foreground right, a pig dressed as a nun lasciviously encourages a sinner to sign a paper. This may be a sealed confession, vow, will or certificate of indulgence. Her companion may be a monk or other religious figure. The ink is provided by walking monster in armour, carrying a huge ink-pot in his mouth, while another man holds his own sealed confession or certificated vow above his head. Before him another man is crucified to an upturned table by an armoured mouse.
Behind the table various figures are tortured in ways that relate to their sins. One woman who was obviously a gambler and drinker, has a dice is impaled in her head and carries a flagon. Beside her a naked hunter has been impaled by his rabbit/hare quarry, dressed for a hunt and blowing a hunting-horn. He hangs from a pole like an eviscerated animal. Another man is consumed by his hunting dogs; his mailed glove formed into a fist may suggest that he represents the sin of Anger.
Bosch’s contemporaries admired inventiveness, which may explain the complicated content and elaborate composition of this triptych. Theologians also wrote about the way that art could communicate aspects of faith through “ the enjoyment of the eye” /’concupiscentia oculorum’. The scenes entice the viewer and engage the imagination to try to interpret them. Despite the nakedness and sexual references the paintings are far from obscene or pornographic; rather they encourage consideration of the morality of the scenes and desires represented. Bosch challenges the ethics of the values of the court or community of Christians to which the painting belonged and the society over which the noble members of the court had oversight and responsibility. Courtly life was partly centred around pleasure and entertainment. This triptych encouraged nobles to consider the morality of their pleasure, including contemporary ideas of courtly love, in the light of God’s intentions for the lives of human beings. The Haywain encouraged a similar questioning, by challenging the lives, activities priorities and values of a broader class of society, including peasants, merchants, nobility and religious Orders.
CONCLUSION
The above interpretations of Hieronymus Bosch’s paintings seem to me the most reasonable, after much thought and research. The more reasonable and orthodox interpretations are often likely to be the most true. However, the wealth of scholarship, debate and argument about the meaning of his paintings over many years affirms that there are multiple potential readings of his symbolism. Bosch’s work may seem strange, surreal, even blasphemous to some modern eyes. But he was representing the popular orthodox Christian beliefs of his time. In a world of dangers, when life-expectancy was short, faith in the ultimate victory of God over the forces of evil was important. To be assured of salvation was especially significant, since it was believed that few would ultimately be saved and the majority of humanity would fail. Judgement, demonic temptation, Satan, and Hell were believed in as constantly present physical realities. The temptations of the world, the flesh and the Devil were seen as the everyday lot of human beings. If one died suddenly, by accident, attack or in journeying, and were unshriven or un-absolved one’s eternal fate lacked hope. The Antichrist could come any day; he might even be in the world, in the form of a ruling despot or the persecutors among the Islamic Turks or Jews, who were considered a present threat to Christendom. The Judgement Day would follow soon after the destructive, persecuting, apparent-triumph of the Antichrist. To survive such dangers demanded orthodoxy of belief, righteous behaviour, the prayers of one’s neighbours and the intervention of the Saviour and the saints. It is no wonder that Bosch’s paintings are filled with religious and popular superstitions. They represent a full gamut of the allures that distracted away from the faith and the results of failure to follow the ways intended for human beings. Many of the mediaeval superstitions which he represented have been transformed today into more reasonable, contemporary, acceptable forms of Christianity, but irrational superstitions still persist in all factions in the worldwide Church.
Already in the Europe of Bosch’s time, many of the principles for which the Roman Catholic Church stood were being questioned by reformers in attempts to purify Christianity both in its doctrines and activities. Many Catholic reform movements were developing, like the Brotherhood of the Common Life, following the Dominican and Franciscan lead, to attempt to bring the Church closer and more in alignment with the teachings and example of Jesus AND St. Paul. Most of the religious Orders had ‘observant’ or ‘reforming’ groups which sought to return them to their founding principles or the model offered by Christ. Enthusiastic, devout secular and clerical believers joined confraternities like Bosch’s Brotherhood of Our Lady, in order to keep alive, revive and promote pious religious devotion. Rationalists like Erasmus were trying to encourage beliefs that were less superstitious and to encourage moral behaviour alongside sincere faith as a way of ensuring salvation. In 1517, a year after Bosch’s death Luther would nail his ‘95 Theses’ as proposals for debate to the door of Wittenberg Church, calling for reform of the church and a re-thinking of several of the superstitions which inhabited Bosch’s images. He called for a restoration of biblically-based faith and religious practices. The Roman Catholic Council of Trent and the Inquisition were also to call fro reform. Some of the contemporary criticisms of the clergy, state, ethics, superstitions and Church activities are present in Bosch’s imagery.
The biggest question in assessing Bosch’s art for our very different time and culture is perhaps: ‘Is Bosch’s imagery still relevant to the Christian Church and Christian believers today?’ It certainly provides valuable warnings about not trying to frighten modern thinking people into believing. There was too much superstition and Hell-fire preaching in past religion. Short-sighted attempts at playing on people’s fears and using creative imagination to conjure up horrors that might emotionally convince people to make commitments to faith are usually counter-productive in the modern, thinking world. The Church needs a far more reasoned apologetic, to explain the value of the Christian faith to contemporary people. Those churches that still attempt to encourage fear often simply convince those to whom they are trying to witness, that their faith is not reasonable or in touch with contemporary needs and thinking.
However, the call for morality that Bosch includes in his work is as needed as ever, though many off the issues of morality have changed. Our ethical issues have altered in many ways in the 500 years that separate Bosch’s world from ours. While some who call themselves Christians are still stuck in mediaeval ethics and limited reading of scripture and sexuality especially, a large number in the Church now recognise that some of the sexual issues, which Bosh’s society would not have accepted, are socially and spiritually acceptable today, since we understand human psychology better. There is still as much hypocrisy in Churches and individual Christians as Bosch criticised in his contemporary clerics; still as much naivety in society. The self-centred greed and duplicity which he represented in works like The Haywain and The Conjuror are perhaps even more apparent in society, politics, the financial and business sectors and among ordinary people. The shallow greed for finance, position and power, while neglecting true spirituality, as represented by the religious in the foreground of The Haywain is as strong among Protestants and Evangelicals as it is in Catholic and Charismatic circles. The emphasis on exploiting the delights and resources of the world, without being wise stewards of those earthly resources with which we have been entrusted, is perhaps even more relevant today than when Bosch painted The Garden of Earthly Delights and The Haywain. The dangers of the human and faith journey through the world are perhaps even stronger than those represented in The Pilgrim / Wander.
Bosch was presenting warnings and images of what he believed to be the spiritual reality beneath the world, seen through his expansive imagination. The hybrid creatures which he imagined arose form the idea that when the Rebel Angels and human beings fell Creation became corrupted: The fallen spiritual beings took monstrous forms and their sinful influence led to the physical and spiritual disfigurement of humans and nature. Though these almost caricatured images are entertaining today, and probably also entertained those who collected and saw the works during and soon after Bosch’s time, they had serious purpose. They represented the underlying fallen nature of the spiritual world, just as his representations of human activity represented the inner nature and corrupt actions of human life. As a member of the Brotherhood of Our Lady, Hieronymus Bosch was dedicated to vows that he would worship and venerate God sincerely and soundly. Whether he succeeded in living up to this personal righteousness we cannot know, as so little biographical detail is known. He was certainly regarded in his time as a distinguished member of inner circle of the Brotherhood. But we all fail in keeping our spiritual vows, so the likelihood is that Bosch, like all of us, knew failings similar to some of those he represented in his paintings. That recognition of truth may account for how well the images communicate today, even if the precise interpretations and their context in society may have been lost.
In his life-time Bosch was a sought-after artist. He became wealthy through his inheritance and careful stewardship of his wife’s possessions. He may well have known the temptations to greed represented in the Table of the Seven Deadly Sins, The Haywain as well as The Death of the Miser. In these painting he showed that he recognised the dangers in contemporary society, perhaps even in his own life. It might be relevant to make similar works to speak to the issues of today. Unlike the political cartoonist who can be much more overt in criticising contemporary figures and problems, Fine Art communicates best through more subtle means. Fine Art metaphors, allegories, allusions need to ‘suggest’ rather than illustrate or directly depict the challenges in society. One of the great qualities of Bosch’s art is that it catches the viewers’ eyes and imagination, to communicate through intriguing visual allegories and metaphors without being too direct. We are left to think of the paintings’ relevance and associations to our time and our personal lives, rather than having the corruption or problems of the world represented too directly or precisely. Bosch anticipated later fine artists with deep social content and commitment like Brueghel, Jan Steen, Hogarth or the German Expressionists.
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