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THE PICTORIAL LANGUAGE OF HIERONYMUS BOSCH |
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la. THE PICTURE OF THE PRODIGAL SON
Plate A. HIERONYMUS BOSCH: The Prodigal Son. Rotterdam, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen.
As has been said, to understand Hieronymus Bosch, it is necessary to develop a method of observation which will gain insight into the world philosophy, or language, of the Master and reveal his pictorial method of expression. Once such a method has been developed, and if the sources whence he took his inspiration have been divined, the interpretation of one of his last and maturest works should become relatively simple. This book will be devoted to furnishing proofs of the method used by the author to discover the painter's hidden message. The method can be used for all this painter's works; he used the same symbols quite consistently throughout. The original title of the picture, The Prodigal Son, is the most suitable and a reference to the parable (Luke 15, 11-32) is essential at this point, as the title of the picture in fact refers to this. Readers who wish to pursue a study of the external aspects of the subject are referred to Der Verlorene Sohn, E. Vetter [62]. As we proceed it will become clear that the Master, Bosch, has not occupied himself with the ordinary outward concept of Christ's parable, but has pursued an inner spiritual meaning. Bosch sees the "son of man" in humanity as such, wandering lost about the dark earth, cut off from any connection with the spiritual world, and longing to find it again. As Bosch did not paint abstractions, he shows a person, or rather the portrait of an individual soul on the threshold of death, swaying between Good and Evil. An understanding of the portrait of the soul of this person will also allow us some insight into the man Jeroen van Aken (alias Hieronymus Bosch). The painting will first be analysed point by point, and the last section will present a summary of the picture's theme as a whole. 1b. THE PARABLE OF THE PRODIGAL SON (from the Authorised Version, Luke 15, 11-32).
Bosch's direct grasp of the spiritual essence of a theme is shown in the way in which he deals with the parable of the Prodigal Son. This painting is another example of the vividness, power and depth of imagination which he was able to bring into his artistic compositions. Bosch's version differs in more than one respect from other well-conceived and executed presentations of this theme. The result of his vision contrasts strongly with worldly conventions. This in itself gives an indication how profoundly the painter was moved by this parable. 2. MAN ON THE THRESHOLD BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH, BETWEEN HERE AND HEREAFTER In this picture, Bosch shows his conception of those experiences that take place within the human soul at the moment of departure from earthly life, according to occult teaching. As has been explained elsewhere [65] the "tree-man" on the right-hand side of The Hortus Deliciarum [i], in the part that depicts Purgatory, also represents an image or allegory, of a real process connected with these experiences (Fig. 29). For a painting such as this to convey more than mere allegory, i.e. to portray real experience, it must bear the stamp of a quite impersonal and objective kind of self-examination, and evaluation. One can only examine oneself quite as thoroughly as this. At the threshold of the spiritual worlds real self-knowledge has become possible, because the grip of opposing spiritual forces has been loosened. It certainly is not an everyday experience for anyone to reach a point where really objective self- judgment has become possible. Such knowledge depends essentially upon the qualities and power of concentration of the individual, on the degree of self-consciousness which he has developed. Consciousness is inner light. The more strongly it burns and the wider it casts its light, the more accurate and true the objective picture of the self will be; it becomes more than mere intellectual self- criticism; it becomes illuminated in a quite concrete way. The self begins to be seen by the individual as though he were looking at it from the outside. Bosch's self-criticism is by no means gentle, rather the opposite! The parable of the prodigal son had become for Bosch a picture of human life on earth. Living on earth certainly implies that one is far from the spiritual world and it also means that one is exposed to the influence of opposing spiritual forces, is tapping about in the dark, and lives in misery. It is interesting that the German word "Elend" (used in the parable in German to describe the prodigal's misery), once bore the meaning of exile -- he who lives in "Elend" or exile experiences doubts, deprivation and want. Once man ate off the tree of knowledge, and since then the desire and need for earthly experience has been increasingly forced upon him. Earth has become his inheritance. Increasingly independent, liberated more and more from the guidance of the spiritual divine hierarchies, i.e. living in lands far away from God, abandoned by God, he too easily becomes a victim of error, and runs the danger of heaping one mistake upon another. And yet, it is only in this way that man can find his way ultimately to real freedom. 4. MAN ON EARTH IS THE PRODIGAL SON However fateful man's errors and weaknesses, at the end of every life-span on earth he returns to the house of his Father and his heavenly Father receives him there. For man brings back into the spiritual world, as the result of his life on earth, such experiences as can only be won "in exile". However poor these fruits may appear at first glance, it is these that matter. This same law of winning freedom by experience on earth, does not apply to the sphere of the angels. These must live either in the light or the darkness; they are not permitted the freedom to make a choice, to decide between good and evil. In some respects, these beings are man's older brothers, sons of one father [54]. This is possibly what is meant in the parable, where it speaks of the older brother of the prodigal son who remained in the house of their father. These comments, which are derived from Rosicrucian thinking and teaching, are important for the understanding of what follows. They also make it clear why the "prodigal son" -- man-- standing at the point of return to the land of his Father, cannot have a very good impression of himself. Saints are few in number, and Bosch did not wish to represent an "ideal" man here any more than in the "tree-man" (Hortus Deliciarum); rather a striving human-being in all his ambivalent manifestation. This human-being, this prodigal son, is a sinner who shows the characteristics of his imperfections. Knowing this, it becomes comprehensible why, recently this painting has had other names, such as "The Fool" "The Rogue", "The Vagabond", "The Beggar" "The Hawker", etc. All these, however, are but half truths and do not encompass the full reality. The original title The Prodigal Son is preferred for this study, as the picture is packed with hidden significance even in its smallest details, as also is the parable of the New Testament. The mood of this painting expressed in the lighting appears to be of eventide -- or is it the beginning of the dawn? Both interpretations will be shown to be right. Whoever is about to leave the earthly world, experiences his own eventide. He who is about to be reborn into the spiritual world of the Father, experiences his new day. The canvas is in the shape of a medallion, but the surround has eight sides. Possibly the painting itself also had eight sides originally. However, the frame is not original and so this form may have been added later. This need not imply that the original shape of the picture was round; the original form may still have been eight-sided. This geometric form can have profound significance. It is often used as the ground plan of baptisteries, for example, because this form was thought to be able to express geometrically the process of the incarnation of the human-being into his physical body. These ideas were derived as follows: The earth is often represented symbolically as a square in occult drawings, the four elements -- fire, air, water and earth, each occupying one side or angle (see Fig. 2). At birth, man enters the world of the physical elements, i.e. he leaves the spiritual world in which the archetypes of these four elements reign. The eight-sided geometric figure can be pictured as two squares, of which one has been pushed out and rotated by the other (Fig. 3). The picture we are studying portrays a man who is about to lay down his physical body, to excarnate. Bosch shows that this death is also a re-birth and it is for this reason that one can assume he may have used the eight-sided boundary for the picture, as this could be the most appropriate. Another indication of this aspect of the meaning of the painting is the foot of a stag, a hart, which protrudes from the individual's shirt. This will be discussed in detail later. The prodigal son stands in the centre of the picture. He looks back with a melancholy and somewhat glassy gaze. This expression is intensified by a slight pallor around the mouth. His thoughts hover between past and future. The soul can apprehend the inevitability of what is to come.
Fig. 2. Christ at the centre of the four elements (i.e. here "In the body of Jesus").
Fig. 3. The ground plan of Baptisteries -- Octagon. 7. OWL AND COALTIT AS SOUL-BIRDS In a previous work [65] some research findings were described regarding Bosch's use of various birds to symbolise mood states in the human soul, as a sort of commentary on the inner dynamic of what is taking place in a scene he is depicting. Here above the weary traveller's head, we find an owl and a coaltit on the branches of a tree. The owl is always used by this painter to represent human everyday intelligence. It could also be called the bird representing the souls of many natural scientists. It gazes out of semi-darkness with huge eyes. In this picture it is in an excited state, with feathers fluffed out, for that part of the intelligence which is only interested in sense-impressions cannot cope with situations in which the other world is already playing an active part. Anyone who has studied testaments and wills from a psychological point of view, can tell how frequently confused and obscure concepts seem to lead to conflict and confusion in the soul of the testator. The other bird, the coal-tit, an extremely mobile bird, which constantly twists and turns, is used here as an illustration of the imaginative thinking life of a man who is lacking direction and self-control. (For a full discussion of the various "soul-birds", see the author's first book [65] and Note 2.) The penitent St. Jerome (Hieronymus) is inwardly in a similar state to that of the prodigal son, and for this reason, Bosch has also depicted him with owl and coaltit (Fig. 4, on the dead tree).
Fig. 4. HIERONYMUS BOSCH: St. Jerome. Ghent, Museum voor Schone Kunsten. Bosch uses the black and white magpie to symbolise the doubting mood in the soul of man. This bird was already known to Wolfram Von Eschenbach (singer of Parcival) as the bird of doubt. It need be no matter of surprise that this magpie appears twice. It can be seen in a cage by the awful house and also free on the lowest bar of the gate which we must now study more particularly. On the one hand the soul still feels trapped in a cage -- in the house formed by the physical body -- on the other it is about to become free, at the threshold of the other world. A gate, door, or portal, always divides yet unites different spaces. A threshold also exists at the meeting point of different spheres, although it may not be outwardly perceptible. Thus we speak of the gate of Paradise, the doors of Heaven, and the doors of Hell. Some examples can be shown to illustrate this. Mary, the mother of God, is found on "the other side" in her "garden" -- he who would come to her must pass through the "gate" (Fig. 5 and Fig. 6, see also Fig. 7).
Fig. 5. HUGO VAN DER GOES, 1440-1482: Adoration of the Shepherds. Portinari Altar (detail). Florence, Uffizzi Gallery. In the present picture, the gate has a purely symbolic significance (cf. Roemer Visscher Sinnepoppen [63] -- this writer lived a century after Bosch and was in his time, the head of the Rosicrucian movement in Holland. His book contains pictures and sayings teaching sobriety and morality. (See Fig. 9 and Fig. 108 and Note 3.) Here there is no logical explanation of the presence of the gate, no continuation to left or right, whether in the form of hedge or fence. Standing thus by itself, this gate can only be taken to represent a dividing point, a threshold. The Torii of the Shinto temples have stood amidst the fields in Japan until the present time in splendid isolation. They, too, form a barrier between the sacred realm and the profane. Another example can be found in the sanctuary of the Cathars at Ussat les Bains (Ariege, France), a place renowned for the last defence of the Albigenses [LC-1] during the tragic crusade against the Cathars in the first half of the thirteenth century. The loose stone wall which marked the border between "within" and "without" can be seen to this day. (A. Gadal, personal communication.)
The design of this particular gate is not arbitrary. It can be seen from the examples illustrated here that other contemporary painters used the same pattern. Bosch himself painted this same kind of gate in several pictures. It is divided into six fields with a triangle superimposed, and this numerical and geometrical arrangement clearly has significance; however, the details of this cannot be further elucidated here. It may be that the large sow with six piglets (section 11) represents the negative side of the same symbol. The cow appears in other pictures by Bosch (Temptations of St. Anthony, the Hay Wain). It is the representative in pictorial imagination, of the vital nourishing life-forces. The ancient Germanic tribes told of Audumla, the giver of milk, the holy cow. She liberated the ancestor of Odin, father of the Gods, from the ice of the world by her licking. The ancient Egyptians revered the cow of heaven, Hathor, as the giver of the forces of life. To the present day, the cow represents the essence of the Hindu religion. The modern painter, Marc Chagall, makes use of the picture of the cow in the same way, to represent the forces of living vitality. Man's catabolic processes -- the result of his physical life on earth -- are constantly being balanced and counteracted by the metabolic processes that rebuild his physical body. In the pictorial language used here man is constantly nourished by "the cow" (Fig. 8). According to the teaching of occult schools, at death the spiritual and soul parts of man's organism leave the physical body, but they remain connected for a few days with its vital forces. After 3-5 days, these dissolve and merge into the general stream of "life forces" that are present in the world (the etheric forces [51], [58], [59]). This process is hinted at by Bosch here. The living aspect -- or "life- forces" -- of the world can be pictured imaginatively as green fields. Towards these the man is turning his steps and here the waiting cow will still nourish him for about 3 days. The same theme can be found in The Temptations of St. Anthony, with a slight variation -- there the cow bears the shrunken being of man across the bridge into the other world. As Bosch paints real not abstract imaginations, the cow's back is stretched out quite unnaturally (Fig. 102 and Fig. 103).
Fig. 6. Nativity Showing the gate to "the other world" from the small Book of Beels (9).
Fig. 7. JOACHIM PATINIR: Christophorus. Joachim Patinir, 1480?-1524, shows evidence in his picture of Christophorus that he was one of the few contemporaries of Bosch who understood something of what Master Bosch was trying to show. The soul house in the tree, the gate, the tree as the vegetative growth forces of the physical body, the holy white egret or heron, the iris, symbol of purity and resurrection, even the hound which has intruded into the mystic area and is persecuting the white lambs, these symbols which are nearly all to be found in Bosch, are also here employed quite correctly. Madrid, Escorial, reproduction authorized by El Patrimonio Nacional. This cow could also allude to the "fatted calf" which the Father orders to be sacrificed on the return of his son. If one tries to get back to the archetypal meaning of that scene as it is described in the Bible, one cannot imagine that it refers only to a physical calf. There also the parable has a deeper meaning which has to he fathomed. More will be said about this in section 16. One could almost expect to see the Father's house behind the gate in our picture. A post such as could be used for hoisting a lantern, stands on a hill in the landscape. They were used in Holland as sign posts by night to point the way. Here it stands also as a symbol of new strength to be given the traveller, the counterpart in answer to the leaning spear outside the old house. The spear is generally used by this painter to denote the personality or individual (see also Temptations of St. Anthony). As man on earth is subject to the influence of the material world surrounding him, to his health, and to feelings of pleasure and pain, the ego or individuality of man can hardly ever remain erect by its own efforts under the onslaught of the impressions and problems coming from his vulnerable physical organism. On the left, behind the wayfarer there is an inn, a seedy rundown neglected ale-house. Instead of a flag, an empty can is turned upside down over the flagpole, the barrel outside the house is also empty. The roof leaks and the windows rattle and hang by only one hinge. The whole house reeks of decay. People are flirting in the doorway, a man is unashamedly relieving himself in the corner. The trousers hanging from an upstairs window may be taken to indicate a fairly unconventional menage. This picture of an hostelry is possibly intended to represent an old saying to to be found in the collection Sinnepoppen by Roemer Visscher, which was mentioned previously. The content is roughly as follows: -- "The feast is over, no more wine will flow". However if the housekeeping has been so carelessly done by the "innkeeper" that the baker and brewer will no longer deliver any goods, then it is said that "The sow has run off with the tap and the host has urinated (pissed) on the wall before daybreak and has paid his dues with his bedstraw" (Fig. 9). If one assumes that Bosch, who was a Rosicrucian, knew this saying, as is very likely, then the man relieving himself is mine host of the inn, who has to leave his house because he has run up too many "debts". Debts, these, to Him (God) who delivers all (Bread and wine, translator's note). In this case the inn becomes a symbol of his physical body which has harboured him for a time but which has become used up, ruined, as had the "innkeeper", because of his careless housekeeping and the debts he has thus accumulated.
Fig. 8. Bull's heads with the signs of the life-force (10).
Figs. 10 and 11. Two old pictures on which the Signs of the Zodiac appear assigned to the various parts of the body on which they were held to have an influence. In this painting of the prodigal son, the wayfarer sees himself and his life in a tableau, looking back on himself. It should be noted that he and mine host wear similar clothes. Like mine host, who has run up debts, -- i.e. who owes much to the spiritual world -- he must leave the house -- his body -- which has sheltered him. He has experienced much within it. Love-making -- and much else that belongs to impulse and instinct. His soul, the "woman at the window of the soul" has watched many storms come, play themselves out and vanish. Now the house of the physical body has become old and fragile. He can no longer remain upright within it. The spear, symbol of his individuality, leans sideways; he himself was the soldier who carried that spear in his youth, when the forces of Mars were uppermost in him. An empty wooden trough, such as builders used in the past to carry pointing mortar, is also leaning against the house, it is empty, and obviously disused. The forces needed to build up the body (the house) are failing. There is an upturned empty can on the roof, and an empty barrel before the house. All these details can be taken together to mean that the life-forces, out of which all creative activities flow, have been exhausted. There is nothing left to build with, and no soul strength to draw on. This individual, who is on the threshold of Death, can no longer be creative on this earth. A sow and her six piglets feed from a trough in front of the house. (See comment in section 9, regarding the numerical relationships of the parts of the gate.) This is an eloquent scene in the language of the Rosicrucians. We must consider the significance of the number 7 in their terms to understand it further. According to their teaching, seven organs of the body are under the special influence of seven planets, and this influence not only extends to their formation, it also has its effects in the way these organs can affect the mood, or soul-state, of the person. Thus the Moon was held to be connected especially with the brain, the lungs with Mercury, kidneys with Venus, the heart with the Sun, the gall-bladder with Mars, Jupiter with the liver, and Saturn with the spleen. (The use of such phrases as to be "galled", or a "sunny-tempered" person recalls this kind of psychology to this day.) These planetary influences were of course as potent according to this teaching in the lower as in the higher emotional (or soul-) life of the individual. (See Fig. 10 and Fig. 11.) The impulses inherent in the sensual organisation of man are denoted by the picture of the pig. (This is ancient tradition, not only of the Rosicrucians.) The wayfarer is looking back on his seven-fold life of impulse and instinct. The trough is still not quite empty, but soon it will be as empty as the upturned soul-vessel on the roof, or the barrel outside the house. A cock stands on a small midden not far from the sow. The lower aspect of the ego, insofar as it is bound to the masculine instinctual (sexual) nature, appears in the symbol of the cockerel in myth and fairy tale. This soul bird too is left behind by the man. Anyone who really understands Bosch will know that he never paints only decay, or only the negative aspect. What is positive and will work for the future is also included, but the symbols which he uses to depict this aspect are small and unobtrusive, like small dark seeds. Where then does the inner eye recognise the positive sense of all these experiences as it looks back? On the right hand wall of the house, there hangs the inn sign, in an excellent state of preservation, with a white swan painted on it. Beneath this, a small apple tree is in full flower, fresh as spring itself. Both these themes must be taken together.
A general view of The Prodigal Son. Rotterdam, Museum. Boymans van Beuningen. The swan generally is used to symbolise the higher aspect of the human being, the living spiritual aspect. This is well-illustrated for example in the legend of Lohengrin. Even in the present day, inns, especially in the country, bear names such as "The Swan", "The Red Lion", "The Bear", "The Eagle", etc. All these are symbols derived from ancient lore. The inspiration for such names often came from alchemists in the Middle Ages. "The Swan" was an especially popular name for an hostelry, and a Dutch term for a good guest-house is still "a good Swan". It is known that Bosch was elevated to the rank of "Knight of the Swan" in the Brotherhood of Our Lady after only a year's membership. The apple tree has, from ancient times, been regarded as the tree of knowledge of Good and Evil and the apple has been regarded as the fruit of the Fall of Man (see Genesis). From the botanical aspect, the apple is a pseudo-fruit, for the fruit is not developed from the seed capsule only, as in a true fruit, but it also incorporates the structures immediately below it, i.e. it grows both upwards and downwards. Also the fruit of the apple forms a double layer around its seed capsule. It is for these reasons that the apple was taken as a suitable symbol of the Fall of Man. It seems to give a concrete picture of an ambivalent situation by its botanical structures, viz.: Man descends from a "higher" other world (the literal translation of Paradise, is, on the other side of the day), into a "nether", here and now world. The "fall into sin" really means a "fall into separation" (from the Spirit). Man's spiritual individuality (ego) can be regarded symbolically as a pseudo-fruit with higher and lower aspect. In Latin, the apple's name is "malum" -- Evil. Applying the logic of this study, the flowering apple tree below the sign of the swan can be read to mean that even if the wayfarer's backward glance beholds the decay of the body, yet the (his) tree of knowledge is flourishing and in blossom; it has borne fruit and will continue to do so. Life on earth for man is intended to enable him to gather knowledge. It is won in the right way if man extends his consciousness ever further into the higher spiritual worlds -- i.e. if he follows "the swan within himself" (thus overcoming the effect of the fall into sin, or separation). 12. IS THE PRODIGAL SON A FOOL? Turning now to the central human figure of the painting we see a man who wearily turns from ordinary everyday life and pursues a path which leads him from the unpleasant hostelry to the gate behind which the cow is awaiting him. In his right hand, he holds a clubbed staff with which he is fending off the attentions of an aggressive dog. We will return to this animal in due course. The staff is reminiscent of the well-known staff of fools, and this is probably the reason why the picture is sometimes called "The Fool", an inappropriate title. The significance of this staff can be grasped through a study of the myth whence the symbol is derived, namely, the story of Theseus and the Minotaur (man/ bull, literally translated). This Minotaur reigned within the Labyrinth; he was a mighty bull to whom seven youths and seven maidens had to be sacrificed every year. Theseus, the hero, plans to slay this Minotaur with his club. He is saved from losing himself in the Labyrinth by the king's daughter Ariadne, who gives him a thread by means of which he finds his way back out of the darkness. At the cost of ruining the artistic impact of this story, we must undertake an interpretation for the sake of our further studies.
Fig. 12. Theseus and the Minotaur. Representation on a Greek vase from "Symbols and Mythology of Ancient Peoples" by CREUZER [20] Plate LV. Looked at meditatively, in the way described in the introduction, the powerful will-forces of the individual which govern the impulsive instinctual and procreative life of man, can be impersonated by the concept of the bull (we speak of the strength of an ox, for example). As is well-known, these will-forces can become "wild", ungoverned and ungovernable. They can dominate a man's thinking and eventually destroy him. In such an event, the virginal forces of the soul and spirit of man which should mature and bear fruit within him, are sacrificed to the instinctual impulses. The Labyrinth can be taken as a pictorial representation of the human brain, which is easily ruled by the bull if he is not kept under control. Theseus is represented in the myth as the founder of the Greek culture of thought, of philosophy. He unrolls the ball of thread which Ariadne has given him, i.e. the development of logical and connected thought processes begins in him. It is the logical sequence of thoughts which forms the thread that rescues the hero and saves him from losing himself in the labyrinth (of his brain). Theseus's weapon is the club (Fig. 12). It is also the weapon of Herakles, another hero. The club is the symbol of the power that comes to a man who is able to act out of his personal individual decision (will) rather than because he is driven by his impulses. In ancient times, it was only the hero, or initiate, who was empowered to act by means of this force. Today, everyone must learn to act through it. This theme can be found in other ancient religions. An Indian version of it is shown in Fig. 13. The Goddess Mahishasura kills the Minotaur -- like Theseus i.e. the excessive "bull-forces" in man. Note the three flames at the head of the staff. This can be read to signify that truly ego-controlled decisions must work through the individuals' thinking, feeling and will -- the three aspects of activity which comprise his soul's life. The Goddess is supported by a lion. The soul needs to be courageous to win the battle and to be able to act through knowledge. This courage is here symbolised by the representation of the "Lion".
Fig. 13. Cult figure, probably 11th century A.D. The Goddess Mahishasura Mardini, Calcutta, Indian Museum, (No. 6314). Although at first glance the staff which the wayfarer carries seems to resemble a fool's staff, the characteristic symbolic details are found to be missing on closer inspection. Also the bearer shows no faintest resemblance to the traditional fool. This can be seen more clearly by an examination of the traditional attributes of staff and clothing of a Fool, which Bosch himself painted in The Ship of Fools (see Fig. 14).
Fig. 14. HIERONYMUS BOSCH. Detail from The Ship of Fools, Paris, Musee du Louvre. The motley of the fool had as formal a tradition as did the royal robes of the king, and the fool's staff was his badge of office. The fool only rode into combat on his faculties of wit and derision. It was his quickness of repartee that gave him his freedom of action as a fool. This was his weapon. For the fool, the club of the ego-controlled will-forces became the staff of the joker and mocker. The fool's staff is a "caricature" of the club of the initiate, its obverse and counterpart. One may ask why Bosch paints such an ambivalent representation in The Prodigal Son when the picture of the fool in The Ship of Fools is so clearly and obviously delineated. This question will be answered at the conclusion of this study. Fig. 15 and Fig. 16 show the correct details of the traditional fool's garb. At the top of the staff, there is usually a bead, but sometimes it is the buttocks that are uppermost. The picture of The Ship of Fools (the society of man) presents a situation in which the human will is too weak to prove a directive force, the group has lost control. The ship sails they know not where, while all aboard gossip, eat and drink. Their actions are reflex responses to instinctual needs and immediate stimuli. High up in the tree can be seen the cause of this disastrous situation, Satan (Ahriman) himself. He has made himself at home there, and is gleefully surveying the impending chaos. The cleverest of the bunch, the Fool, who has quick wits and can respond to situations, is doused with wine. He ignores the cherries, the fruit of real thinking, and, like the rest, has a good time. They think they are fulfilling big tasks.
Fig. 15. QUENTIN METSYS (also written MASSYS) 1465/6-1530: Allegory of Folly, painted about 1510-1420. New York, Coll. J. Held (Mondeken toe means keep your mouth shut!)
Fig. 16. ALBRECHT DURER, 1471-1528: The Holiday Fool. Woodcut in: Sebastian Brant, The Ship of Fools. Basel, Kupferstichkabinett. 14. IS THE PRODIGAL SON A BEGGAR OR VAGRANT? The title of the painting has been queried, among others, by Ludwig von Baldass [3]. He calls the painting "The Vagrant". However, the sketches which Bosch himself has made of vagrants contradict this interpretation (see illustrations No. 130, No. 131 in the same book, Brussels: Cabinet des Estampes & Vienna, Albertina). The wayfarer's uniform habit of dress is also against his being a beggar or a vagrant. It does not give the impression of having been collected by begging. Also the heavy basket under which his body is bent hardly fits with the concept of a beggar, let alone the purse which be carries. On the other hand, the artist has expressed in masterly fashion that this individual has amassed a great many things in the course of his life which he has to drag about with him. From this point of view, the label of vagrant is understandable but inadequate. The basket will be discussed presently. 15. IS THE PRODIGAL SON A MATCHMAKER? [ii] As man approaches the end of his life, his thoughts are turned to the spiritual (other) world. He no longer stands as firmly in this world, and he begins to feel that his foothold has become precarious. He becomes insecure and begins to limp. With this in mind, it becomes clear to us why this weary traveller drags himself along with a shoe on one foot and a slipper on the other. In our picture, the right foot wears an excellent shoe, the left one an equally excellent slipper -- the quality of both again proves that he is no beggar. A shoe is worn outside the house, a slipper indoors. The shoe indicates the relationship to earthly life. One could regard this combination as indicating that this man is already moving in two worlds. The Dutch saying "To walk on one shoe and one slipper", today means that the individual has no money. This situation however can arise because the particular individual did not keep both feet on the ground in ordinary everyday life. Many a person has landed in a financial mess because he was unable to keep apart what belongs to God and what belongs to mammon or to match them correctly (Translator's note: Christ also drove the merchants from the Temple, Luke 19/45 and 46). The real matchmaker works in quite a different sphere. _______________ Notes: i. The Garden of Heavenly Delights. ii. A go-between who arranged marriages. Albigenses, by NewAdvent.org (Catholic Encylcopedia) (From Albi, Latin Albiga, the present capital of the Department of Tarn). A neo-Manichæan sect that flourished in southern France in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The name Albigenses, given them by the Council of Tours (1163) prevailed towards the end of the twelfth century and was for a long time applied to all the heretics of the south of France. They were also called Catharists (katharos, pure), though in reality they were only a branch of the Catharistic movement. The rise and spread of the new doctrine in southern France was favoured by various circumstances, among which may be mentioned: the fascination exercised by the readily-grasped dualistic principle; the remnant of Jewish and Mohammedan doctrinal elements; the wealth, leisure, and imaginative mind of the inhabitants of Languedoc; their contempt for the Catholic clergy, caused by the ignorance and the worldly, too frequently scandalous, lives of the latter; the protection of an overwhelming majority of the nobility, and the intimate local blending of national aspirations and religious sentiment. Principles Doctrinal The Albigenses asserted the co-existence of two mutually opposed principles, one good, the other evil. The former is the creator of the spiritual, the latter of the material world. The bad principle is the source of all evil; natural phenomena, either ordinary like the growth of plants, or extraordinary as earthquakes, likewise moral disorders (war), must be attributed to him. He created the human body and is the author of sin, which springs from matter and not from the spirit. The Old Testament must be either partly or entirely ascribed to him; whereas the New Testament is the revelation of the beneficent God. The latter is the creator of human souls, which the bad principle imprisoned in material bodies after he had deceived them into leaving the kingdom of light. This earth is a place of punishment, the only hell that exists for the human soul. Punishment, however, is not everlasting; for all souls, being Divine in nature, must eventually be liberated. To accomplish this deliverance God sent upon earth Jesus Christ, who, although very perfect, like the Holy Ghost, is still a mere creature. The Redeemer could not take on a genuine human body, because he would thereby have come under the control of the evil principle. His body was, therefore, of celestial essence, and with it He penetrated the ear of Mary. It was only apparently that He was born from her and only apparently that He suffered. His redemption was not operative, but solely instructive. To enjoy its benefits, one must become a member of the Church of Christ (the Albigenses). Here below, it is not the Catholic sacraments but the peculiar ceremony of the Albigenses known as the consolamentum, or "consolation," that purifies the soul from all sin and ensures its immediate return to heaven. The resurrection of the body will not take place, since by its nature all flesh is evil. Moral The dualism of the Albigenses was also the basis of their moral teaching. Man, they taught, is a living contradiction. Hence, the liberation of the soul from its captivity in the body is the true end of our being. To attain this, suicide is commendable; it was customary among them in the form of the endura (starvation). The extinction of bodily life on the largest scale consistent with human existence is also a perfect aim. As generation propagates the slavery of the soul to the body, perpetual chastity should be practiced. Matrimonial intercourse is unlawful; concubinage, being of a less permanent nature, is preferable to marriage. Abandonment of his wife by the husband, or vice versa, is desirable. Generation was abhorred by the Albigenses even in the animal kingdom. Consequently, abstention from all animal food, except fish, was enjoined. Their belief in metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls, the result of their logical rejection of purgatory, furnishes another explanation for the same abstinence. To this practice they added long and rigorous fasts. The necessity of absolute fidelity to the sect was strongly inculcated. War and capital punishment were absolutely condemned. Origin and history The contact of Christianity with the Oriental mind and Oriental religions had produced several sects (Gnostics, Manichæans, Paulicians, Bogomilae) whose doctrines were akin to the tenets of the Albigenses. But the historical connection between the new heretics and their predecessors cannot be clearly traced. In France, where they were probably introduced by a woman from Italy, the Neo-Manichæan doctrines were secretly diffused for several years before they appeared, almost simultaneously, near Toulouse and at the Synod of Orléans (1022). Those who proposed them were even made to suffer the extreme penalty of death. The Council of Arras (1025), Charroux, Dep. of Vienne (c. 1028), and of Reims (1049) had to deal with the heresy. At that of Beauvais (1114) the case of Neo-Manichæans in the Diocese of Soissons was brought up, but was referred to the council shortly to be held in the latter city. Petrobrusianism now familiarized the South with some of the tenets of the Albigenses. Its condemnation by the Council of Toulouse (1119) did not prevent the evil from spreading. Pope Eugene III (1145-53) sent a legate, Cardinal Alberic of Ostia, to Languedoc (1145), and St. Bernard seconded the legate's efforts. But their preaching produced no lasting effect. The Council of Reims (1148) excommunicated the protectors "of the heretics of Gascony and Provence." That of Tours (1163) decreed that the Albigenses should be imprisoned and their property confiscated. A religious disputation was held (1165) at Lombez, with the usual unsatisfactory result of such conferences. Two years later, the Albigenses held a general council at Toulouse, their chief centre of activity. The Cardinal-Legate Peter made another attempt at peaceful settlement (1178), but he was received with derision. The Third General Council of the Lateran (1179) renewed the previous severe measures and issued a summons to use force against the heretics, who were plundering and devastating Albi, Toulouse, and the vicinity. At the death (1194) of the Catholic Count of Toulouse, Raymond V, his succession fell to Raymond VI (1194-1222) who favoured the heresy. With the accession of Innocent III (1198) the work of conversion and repression was taken up vigorously. In 1205-6 three events augured well for the success of the efforts made in that direction. Raymond VI, in face of the threatening military operations urged by Innocent against him, promised under oath to banish the dissidents from his dominions. The monk Fulco of Marseilles, formerly a troubadour, now became Archbishop of Toulouse (1205-31). Two Spaniards, Diego, Bishop of Osma and his companion, Dominic Guzman (St. Dominic), returning from Rome, visited the papal legates at Montpellier. By their advice, the excessive outward splendour of Catholic preachers, which offended the heretics, was replaced by apostolical austerity. Religious disputations were renewed. St. Dominic, perceiving the great advantages derived by his opponents from the cooperation of women, founded (1206) at Pouille near Carcassonne a religious congregation for women, whose object was the education of the poorer girls of the nobility. Not long after this he laid the foundation of the Dominican Order. Innocent III, in view of the immense spread of the heresy, which infected over 1000 cities or towns, called (1207) upon the King of France, as Suzerain of the County of Toulouse, to use force. He renewed his appeal on receiving news of the assassination of his legate, Peter of Castelnau, a Cistercian monk (1208), which judging by appearances, he attributed to Raymond VI. Numerous barons of northern France, Germany, and Belgium joined the crusade, and papal legates were put at the head of the expedition, Arnold, Abbot of Cîteaux, and two bishops. Raymond VI, still under the ban of excommunication pronounced against him by Peter of Castelnau, now offered to submit, was reconciled with the Church, and took the field against his former friends. Roger, Viscount of Béziers, was first attacked, and his principal fortresses, Béziers and Carcassonne, were taken (1209). The monstrous words: "Slay all; God will know His own," alleged to have been uttered at the capture of Béziers, by the papal legate, were never pronounced (Tamizey de Larroque, "Rev. des quest. hist." 1866, I, 168-91). Simon of Monfort, Earl of Leicester, was given control of the conquered territory and became the military leader of the crusade. At the Council of Avignon (1209) Raymond VI was again excommunicated for not fulfilling the conditions of ecclesiastical reconciliation. He went in person to Rome, and the Pope ordered an investigation. After fruitless attempts in the Council of Arles (1211) at an agreement between the papal legates and the Count of Toulouse, the latter left the council and prepared to resist. He was declared an enemy of the Church and his possessions were forfeited to whoever would conquer them. Lavaur, Dep. of Tarn, fell in 1211, amid dreadful carnage, into the hands of the crusaders. The latter, exasperated by the reported massacre of 6,000 of their followers, spared neither age nor sex. The crusade now degenerated into a war of conquest, and Innocent III, in spite of his efforts, was powerless to bring the undertaking back to its original purpose. Peter of Aragon, Raymond's brother-in-law, interposed to obtain his forgiveness, but without success. He then took up arms to defend him. The troops of Peter and of Simon of Montfort met at Muret (1213). Peter was defeated and killed. The allies of the fallen king were now so weakened that they offered to submit. The Pope sent as his representative the Cardinal-Deacon Peter of Santa Maria in Aquiro, who carried out only part of his instructions, receiving indeed Raymond, the inhabitants of Toulouse, and others back into the Church, but furthering at the same time Simon's plans of conquest. This commander continued the war and was appointed by the Council of Montpellier (1215) lord over all the acquired territory. The Pope, informed that it was the only effectual means of crushing the heresy, approved the choice. At the death of Simon (1218), his son Amalric inherited his rights and continued the war with but little success. The territory was ultimately ceded almost entirely by both Amalric and Raymond VII to the King of France, while the Council of Toulouse (1229) entrusted the Inquisition, which soon passed into the hands of the Dominicans (1233), with the repression of Albigensianism. The heresy disappeared about the end of the fourteenth century. Organization and liturgy The members of the sect were divided
into two classes: The "perfect" (perfecti) and the mere "believers"
(credentes). The "perfect" were those who had submitted to the
initiation-rite (consolamentum). They were few in number and were
alone bound to the observance of the above-described rigid moral
law. While the female members of this class did not travel, the men
went, by twos, from place to place, performing the ceremony of
initiation. The only bond that attached the "believers" to
Albigensianism was the promise to receive the consolamentum before
death. They were very numerous, could marry, wage war, etc., and
generally observed the ten commandments. Many remained
"believers" for years and were only initiated on their deathbed. If
the illness did not end fatally, starvation or poison prevented
rather frequently subsequent moral transgressions. In some instances
the reconsolatio was administered to those who, after initiation,
had relapsed into sin. The hierarchy consisted of bishops and
deacons. The existence of an Albigensian Pope is not universally
admitted. The bishops were chosen from among the "perfect." They had
two assistants, the older and the younger son (filius major and
filius minor), and were generally succeeded by the former. The
consolamentum, or ceremony of initiation, was a sort of spiritual
baptism, analogous in rite and equivalent in significance to several
of the Catholic sacraments (Baptism, Penance, Order). Its reception,
from which children were debarred, was, if possible, preceded by
careful religious study and penitential practices. In this period
of preparation, the candidates used ceremonies that bore a striking
resemblance to the ancient Christian catechumenate. The
essential rite of the consolamentum was the imposition of hands. The
engagement which the "believers" took to be initiated before death
was known as the convenenza (promise). Properly speaking, Albigensianism was not a Christian heresy but an extra-Christian religion. Ecclesiastical authority, after persuasion had failed, adopted a course of severe repression, which led at times to regrettable excess. Simon of Montfort intended well at first, but later used the pretext of religion to usurp the territory of the Counts of Toulouse. The death penalty was, indeed, inflicted too freely on the Albigenses, but it must be remembered that the penal code of the time was considerably more rigorous than ours, and the excesses were sometimes provoked. Raymond VI and his successor, Raymond VII, were, when in distress, ever ready to promise, but never to earnestly amend. Pope Innocent III was justified in saying that the Albigenses were "worse than the Saracens"; and still he counselled moderation and disapproved of the selfish policy adopted by Simon of Montfort. What the Church combated was principles that led directly not only to the ruin of Christianity, but to the very extinction of the human race.
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