In order to understand why the painter would create a mute symbolism, the art historian sorted through the whole body of paintings, separating those of enigmatic content from those that contain little or none. Only if the “freakish riddles” on which Bosch’s reputation was founded occurred in all of the paintings could they be called “the irresponsible phantasmagoria of an ecstatic”. Fränger found that the deviant content existed only in a clearly defined group of altarpieces-the three large triptychs of the Garden of Earthly Delights, the Lisbon Temptation of Saint Anthony, and the Hay-Wain.[11] In contrast, there was only a small amount of this symbolism in such paintings as the Epiphany triptych in the Prado and the Venice Martyrdom of Saint Julia. The remaining paintings, including those of the Passion and Adoration of the Magi themes, had little or none. He concluded, therefore, that an arbitrary distinction could be made between two main groups – the generally traditional, obviously created for the church, and the non-traditional, disparate ones.
Fränger concentrated on the second group, proposing that they could not have been made for a church congregation since they contained anti-clerical polemic such as would be implied by monks and nuns depicted in disgusting attitudes. Nor could these altarpieces have been made for pagan worship, since they also attacked pagan “priests” and their ritualistic excesses. Altarpieces, however, pointed to some kind of devotional patronage. The polar targets of their attack must have meant a group outside the church, at once inveighing against ecclesiastical offences and at the same time fighting the abundant mystery cults of the period. The only kind of society that could possibly answer the problem, according to Fränger, would be a militant heretical sect. Setting up an ideal contrary to the teachings of the Church, such a sect would be forced to fight the all – powerful tradition, but on the other hand, would find pagan abominations equally abhorrent. If Bosch should paint a devotional altarpiece for a society of this kind, he would mirror their “dual warfare, with all its polar tension” and his “eccentricities” would be explained.
21. The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, oil on panel, 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
22. Detail of the central panel of The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, oil on panel, 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
23. Detail of the central panel of The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, oil on panel, 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
24. Detail of the central panel of The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, op. 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
25. Detail of the left panel of The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, op. 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
According to the scholar, all previous interpretations of Bosch erred that did not approach his symbolism with this frame of reference. Because Bosch was not intelligible to them, most commentators assumed that he had not intended to communicate – and that the creatures he let loose in these paintings were mere “phantoms of hell.” This thinking placed an emphasis on the hell scenes that Bosch might not have intended. True, there are scenes which are set in the most horrific of all hells, but they are always balanced on the other side of the altarpiece by “an impeccable anchorite, or by Mount Ararat, or by the Garden of Eden.” In other words, if Bosch gave equal weight to the opposed “ideal scenes,” could we not assume that he intended to emphasize these scenes by their very contrast with Hell? This added further weight to Fränger’s theory of the heretical sect, because Bosch’s more positive scenes would reflect the idealism of such a society.
The author believed that one of the most widely misinterpreted of Bosch’s paintings was The Garden of Earthly Delights triptych. In fact, he concentrated the remainder of his study of Bosch’s ideation upon a new interpretation of this painting. The reason for the confusion, he thought, was that it had for centuries been thoughtlessly associated with another of more obvious message, the Hay-Wain. Both triptychs have flanking panels of a Garden of Eden scene on the left and a hell scene on the right – thus, the message was assumed to be much the same.[12] Fränger saw many differences, however, that would belie the dual association. The Eden panel of the Hay-Wain contains sequences of the Fall of the Rebel Angels, the Creation of Eve, the Temptation, and the Expulsion from the Garden which are placed on a vertical axis in the same garden landscape. The grouping is traditional, but there is some Boschian originality in their presentation, as the “rebel angels” are presented as insects falling in swarms from Heaven and there is a peculiar rock formation at the site of the Creation of Eve, presaging the even stranger ones to be seen in The Garden of Earthly Delights. Nevertheless, little to be found in this panel is incomprehensible. The central painting, now supposed to be an illustration of the Flemish proverb: “the world is a haystack; everyone takes what he can grab thereof,”[13] is dominated by a gigantic hay wagon which, according to Jacques Combe, “evok[es] at the same time the late Gothic motive of the procession of pageant, and the Renaissance Triumph… drawn by semi-human, semi-animal monsters and headed straight for hell, followed by a cavalcade of ecclesiastical and lay dignitaries. From all sides of the wagon men scrabble over one another to pull hay from the giant stack. The only heed they take of their fellows is to thrust them out of their way or to raise hands against them. One sticks a knife into the throat of the unfortunate competitor whom he has pinned to the ground.”
Many among the greedy mob wear ecclesiastical garb, indicating Bosch’s attitude that the holy as well as profane are involved in this scavenging. A fat monk sits in a large chair and lazily sups a drink while several nuns do service for him, packing bundles of hay into the bag at his feet. One of his nuns turns to the lure of sexual enticement symbolized by the fool playing a bagpipe, to whom she offers a handful of hay in hopes of winning his favors.
26. Detail of the right panel of The Epiphany, or The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, oil on panel, 138 × 72 × 144 cm, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
27. The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, exterior view: The Mass of Saint Gregory, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
28. Detail of exterior view of The Adoration of the Magi, the Brouchorst Bosschuyse Triptych, Museo nacional del Prado, Madrid
29. Martyrdom of Saint Julia, or Crucified Martyr, central part of a triptych with “Saint Anthony,” left, and “Soldier Led by a Monk,” right, oil on panel, 104 × 119 cm, Ducal Palace, Venice
The clergy seem to be in the majority among the wicked brought under Bosch’s scathing attack in this altarpiece, but there are others, too, of the devil’s earthly disciples. There is a quack toothpuller whose hay filled pocket refers to the fees that have “lined his pockets,” garnered as they are from the gullible populace. There are gypsies, women and children, figures always suspect as servitors of Satan and a blind beggar led by a child to his share of the spoils. Two idling lovers embrace on top of the hay pile while two others enjoy the delights of music, played for their pleasure by a troubadour and a demon who fingers his own pipe-shaped snout. All are caught in a snare laid by Satan and ignore the angel who implores them to look to Heaven for their souls’ sake. Above them, an image of Christ in the clouds shows to