Hieronymus Bosch: Garden of Earthly Delights

by Hans Belting, Hieronymus Bosch

Hans Belting avoids interpreting Hieronymus Bosch's triptych, The Garden of Earthly Delights, as a heretical masterpiece, a personal examination of the church's dogmas, or as an opulent illustration of the Creation. Instead, he sees the panels as a painted Utopia, reflecting the zeitgeist of the period. He links the work to the humanist theories of Thomas More and Willibald Pirckheimer and examines the question that Bosch "What would the world have been like without the Fall?" In addition, the author determines the secular patron and analyses the intended purpose of the painting.

Genres: Art, Nonfiction, Art History

125 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2002

About the author

Hans Belting is a German art historian and theorist of medieval and Renaissance art, as well as contemporary art and image theory.

He was born in Andernach, Germany, and studied at the universities of Mainz and Rome, and took his doctorate in art history at the University of Mainz. Subsequently he has held a fellowship at Dumbarton Oaks (Harvard University), Washington, D.C.

Reviews

[Kalliope · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a 5 star book for a 10 star painting.


Hans Belting offers in this wonderful book a careful analysis and a rather plausible explanation of one of the most enigmatic paintings that have survived and by one of the most enigmatic painters that have been recorded.

It should be of no surprise that its not quite appropriate title of The Garden of Earthly Delights was not given by its creator Hieronymus Bosch (1450-1516). It was appended later on. The painting currently stands in the Prado Museum in Madrid where it is catalogued with the more apt name of El jardín de las delicias. Belting’s analysis led me to believe that this is a better name.

Bosch stands alone in the History of Art. Only Brueghel continued to use some of Bosch’s traits, but cannot be considered as a follower. And yet, Bosch was highly admired during his lifetime and many of his paintings were copied soon after he produced them. This particular painting was reproduced both as a painting (there is a partial copy in the Germanisches Nationalmuseum in Nürembertg), and as a tapestry (in the Palacio Real in Madrid also).

In spite of the contemporary admiration that Bosch’s works elicited no other artist continued Bosch’s steps and we know of no pupils.

The painting belonged to Hendrick III (1483-1538) the nephew and heir of the Count of Nassau, Engelbrecht (d. 1504). It is thought that Hendrick commissioned it directly to Bosch. Hendrick was very well connected. His uncle Engelbrecht had belonged to the circle of the Emperor Maximilian, and he himself was friends with Philip the Fair, the Emperor’s son and father of the future Charles V for whom Hendrick also became a confidant. There is documentation that Philip had commissioned a parallel work, but it is not extant and it may have never existed.

The painting is first documented in 1517 (one year after Bosch’s death) in a letter by Cardinal Luis de Aragón), and although its oak panels have been dated to around 1460s, it is thought to have been finished around 1504, when Hendrick inherited from his uncle and became master of the Palace Nassau. The painting formed part of the collection of extraordinary items in the Kunstkammer.

The painting is a triptych, the format used in the Middle Ages and Renaissance for Altarpieces, and it is very large (2.2 x 1.95m, or 87 x 77 in). It has five painted panels (two outer and three inner), but normally only the external panels would be on view since it would be kept closed. Ideally we would like to be able to view it similarly to the way for which it was conceived. This is unfortunately difficult now, since in the Prado it is kept always open and with the outer panels immobile at 45º to the central panel. Only a difficult sideways and split glimpse of the outer paintings is now possible—(peeking first on one side and then walking over to the other side and peeking again). And what a shame this is, because the outside is a fantastic representation that could be used as cover for science fiction books.



The outer wings show, in grisaille or monochrome painting, a view of a spherical glass world inside which a flat horizontal surface is the stage on which strange vegetation has grown. This world is surrounded by waters, and therefore follows the Ptolemaic convention. On the upper right hand corner we see a little cloud in which a minute God oversees his Creation on its Third Day, as the Book of Genesis tells us, when life has already sprung but in which no animals and certainly no humans are yet present. This God the Maker has lost its prime position for current viewers at the Prado. The fixed angle of the opened wings has relegated him to a hidden corner.

Although Bosch is following the Book of Genesis, the two inscriptions at the top are quotes from one of the Psalms of David.

For he spake and it was done
He commanded and it stood fast

Hendrick kept this treasure in his Wunderkammer, together with other fantastic and precious objects, to show them off to notable visitors, amongst whom was Dürer. This triptych therefore was no Altarpiece. Its purpose was very different from that of a religious painting. It was used neither for private prayer nor for liturgical services. This triptych was conceived to be admired in itself. When the gray outer wings were opened it was not to a direct way to God, but to invite a more abstract meditation with or without theological implications. The theatrical act of disclosure would gain in its impact as the monochrome hues would blossom into an explosion of color--in which blue, green and pink pastel tones vied with each other for dominance.



Once we have recovered from the surprise that the inner panels present to us, we can see on its left wind the Creation of Man and Woman in a beautiful and serene landscape with some extraordinary growths. The scene shows in the foreground a God of human aspect who presents a kneeling Woman to a seating and somewhat baffled Man. All three are of the same size and only God is dressed. Behind them we see a fantastic Fountain of Life, and many creatures nicely spread around the garden. Some of these creatures we may recognize as common animals, but some we may not. Adam had to give a name to all of them, as the Third Book of Genesis says. In this scene there is no tension, no serpent, no Sin, no Fall of man and no foreboding. In contrast, in a comparable altarpiece now in Vienna in the Akademie der Künste, Bosch shows, using narrative vignettes, the Expulsion of the first couple.




Not so in the Madrid painting. The newly met couple is there to enjoy bliss

The opposite of bliss is in the opposite panel. There, at our right, we see Hell. It is night at the Inferno and what we can see is a series of detached episodic groupings with no unifying narrative. Humans suffer various torments in a dry and arid landscape in which all the lush vegetation of Eden and heavenly light has disappeared. Only ominous fires shine in the horizon. The instruments of torture are either sharp blades or instruments of music, such as the crucifying harp. Pleasure has definitely turned against man.



This world in darkness becomes all the more spooky because so many elements are from our world but have turned awry, against us. Of all the deadly sins, lust is the one that stands out most, although Bosch knew how to illustrate them all, as the painted Capital Vices Table that stands in front of this triptych in the Prado, testifies.



In the middle ground, matching the Fountain of Life on the Eden scene, we have a monstrous Tree with the face of a man that watches us with an ironic and knowing smile, and which Belting takes as a Bosch’s self-portrait. Has Bosch portrayed himself as the Lord of the Underworld?. He towers over the God of the opposing wing!

But if both the Eden and particularly the Hell scenes offer some highly original elements, they still follow traditional arrangements of paintings with the Last Judgment. In this work it is the central panel where the kernel of the enigma is to be searched. When the painting began to be copied, it was this central panel that was reproduced (and painting and tapestry mentioned above are such samples). And the objects found at the Prado gift-museum select elements from this central panel.



The middle scene shows a landscape that continues the same elevated ground and the same horizon line as the Eden scene. It is illuminated by the same golden light, and similar pastel colors dominate. Are we to consider it as a continuation of Eden? There is even a group of figures in the extreme left of the foreground who are pointing at Eden. This garden however offers a strong contrast in that it is a lot more crowded than Eden. We see many groups of humans – men, women, white and black, all ageless adults wearing no clothes—who mix both with recognizable animals and birds of varying sizes and with unrecognizable creatures. The different inhabitants keep very active. They dance, ride, frolic, and engage in various sexual behaviors, all openly. And to add to this festivity of joy and fruitfulness, abundant and colorful fruits, such as straw- and other types of berries and nicely ripe cherries participate in this exuberant bounty. This is a party of the senses, but in which guilt and sin are absent—but may be also individuality.

In the background there is a lake with a fantastic Tree of Life or Fertility in the middle and in which active couples are enjoying themselves. Four rivers open out to water this delightful garden. Following the Bible, these rivers correspond to those going to Havilah, Ethiopia, Assyria and the Euphrates.

So, what is this painting about? Ever since the monk José de Sigüenza interpreted, early in the seventeenth century, Bosch’s “disparates” as portraying moral lessons, this line of understanding has set the subsequent views.

And this is where Belting differs and where the greatest attraction of this book lies. For Belting the middle panel is a representation of U-topia and U-chronia – a place outside of geography and of time. Although the side wings represent the history of humanity, with its Sin-free Paradise eventually closed in by the horrific Inferno, the Madrid work lacks the middle Climax present in the Vienna triptych. In the Prado work Bosch has put in the center a place that might have been but never was, and is therefore outside of history and human narrative.

How would the world, and our lives, have been had there be no Sin?, What if the world had populated directly out of the creation of the first Man and Woman? What kind of paradise would it have been, in which pleasure of all kinds would be innocent? In presenting this hypothesis Bosch is not being heretical, as many feared (Siguenza’s concern). He was again following the Bible, the Vulgata, second book of genesis which speaks of a Paradisum Voluptatis.

After this interpretation of the panel that has puzzled theologians, moralists, and art critics, Belting shows us that Bosch did it in such a way, that while daring to show things no one had seen, he still followed Scripture. We have to conceive of Bosch and his work as standing at a cultural crossroads.

Belting then gives a complementary account of the Renaissance texts that dealt with Utopia, naming Sebastian Brant’s The Ship of Fools, Erasmus’s In Praise of Folly, and Thomas More’s Utopia<7i>. And although he is not proposing direct links amongst any of them he is presenting Bosch’s preoccupations in the midst of his times. Additionally, the author reminds us that this was the age of geographical discoveries in which European travel was encountering new worlds untouched by their “civilization” and was rapidly affecting the Weltanschauung of the period. Hendrick in his Wunderkammer kept this painting together with other marvels from the Outre-Mer.

Belting’s contextualizing, however, is the weaker part of the book. He provides ancillary chapters on relevant themes during Bosch’s time, but they are somewhat disconnected. They function more as appendixes. And may be a bit more on information on Bosch himself, given that so very little is known, would not have been too laborious to add.

Belting’s interpretation then takes us back to the choice of titles for this work. And yes, the English version should drop the “Earthly” word and the painting is to remain in our memories as The Garden of Delights as that which Might Have Been.

This book has been a great enjoyment to read, with its beautiful illustrations. It is not easy to find.


And I am planning a visit to the Prado this coming Sunday with friends from London and we will go and contemplate what we are never to have and the wonderful delights we are missing.

[L.A. Starks · Rating 5 out of 5]

Note that after seeing this painting in the original--very layered and fascinating--I am skimming one of the better-recommended books about it.

Relevant to mystery/thriller readers how? Fans of Michael Connelly his protagonist's, Harry Bosch, is actually named Hieronymus Bosch--because Harry's mother was inspired by this artist.

[Mikey B. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is mostly about the triptych painting “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Hieronymus Bosch. And what an extravaganza it is! An outburst of creativity, an orgy of frolicking – at least in the large middle panel. The first panel is an Adam and Eve depiction and this is crazy! The last panel is “Hell” and this, too, is beyond wild!

Bosch lived from 1450 to 1516 and in many ways was the Salvador Dali of his time. However not much is known of his personal life and how his art was received. I suspect Bosch had protectors (aristocratic art buyers), as his works would have been considered heretical by many in his day.

He also made two other triptych’s which are briefly discussed in this book. The “Garden of Earthly Delights” is presented in detail with various portions of the painting pictured in this book. This is excellent because the entire painting is just over-filled with so many details that it is impossible to view it as a totality. So it is necessary, as this book does, to break down and analyze (if this is possible) the individual portions. As the author points out the painting is filled with young adults in various states that range from pleasure to pain – no children or older people.

The chapters at the end about the book “Utopia” by Thomas More were of no interest to me. They were intended to show the context of Bosch’s era.





Detail from middle panel of "Garden of Earthly Delights"





Detail from middle panel of "Garden of Earthly Delights"





Detail from third panel of "Garden of Earthly Delights"

[AC · Rating 4 out of 5]

The best thing is simply to refer the reader to Kalliope's wonderful review here:
http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/...

For my part, I found the latter portion of the book, discussing Erasmus and More and the imaginary spaces of paradise to be somewhat oversubtle and hard to follow. This, of course, may simply have been due to my own failure of attention. The first part, however, gives a marvelously clear account of the picture, and the reproductions (of the whole and of the details) are simply awesome.

[Nostalgia Reader · Rating 2 out of 5]

Much more scholarly (read: dense and not good for casual reading) than I was expecting. And while the ultimate conclusion was a bit ambiguous, it wasn't at all a revelation to me. Essentially, the middle panel of Garden is supposed to show a paradoxical Paradise/Utopia that existed outside the realm of reality, rather than in Earthly or Biblical history. Not really shocking. I agree with other readers who have said the last two chapters on More's Utopia really weren't interesting--they helped support the Utopia idea, but refused to make direct comparisons to the painting.

I'm not sure if it's because this is a translated work, or if it's just Belting's style, but the whole thing was very clunky and had less narrative flow than the painting in question does.

There are some great closeups of the painting throughout, and the chapter devoted to breaking down each panel of the painting was fairly good, hence the 2 stars. But it just was more based in scholarly theoreticals rather than a symbolic analysis or general history of the painting that I thought it would be.

[Julie · Rating 3 out of 5]

While I understood and appreciated the compare/contrast with More/Erasmus and Utopia and the whole idea of fictional realities, I wanted to know more about the subtleties within the painting itself. After all, the fabulous up-close illustrations were made for just such an analysis. The parts that dealt with this in the book were the most interesting to my mind.

[Leanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

As Kalliope says below: this is a five star book for a ten star painting! Bosch is unexpected in so many ways: coming on the scene almost out of nowhere, he was a wealthy member of the social elite and belonged to one of the religious brotherhoods popular in the middle ages. His work was seemingly very popular during his lifetime--being collected by kings, numerous copies of his triptychs were made immediately, including costly tapestry cycles. Discussed and collected by kings and nobles, his style really saw few followers--maybe until the surrealists of the 20th century? Not much is really known about him and his unique style and of his work, the Garden of Earthly Delights remains an utter mystery. The narrative of the three panels doesn't function in the way we expect from Fall to Judgement to Hell. Scholars remain mainly befuddled by the work. Some have insisted that within this work are keys to secret knowledge (religious heresy) but this seems rather unlikely given how popular his work was in Spain during the height of the Inquisition. By Philip II's day, 26 out 40 extant works were held in Spain. And I have read (in another book) that Philip II was so devoted to this work of art that he requested it brought to him as he was dying.

Belting's interpretation are extremely interesting. Basically, he views the middle panel as being a version of utopia (u-chronia and u-topia). The outside wings depict the world on the third day before God created light. It is a monochrome orb surrounded by water. A Ptolemic version of the world. And yet, by Bosch's day the New World had indeed been discovered (and the picture is dated because of new world pineapples shown in the central panel). Columbus set sail to the indies but he also suspected that an earthy paradise existed in the waters antipodal of Jerusalem, as Dante described. The earthly paradise was a garden paradise outside of civilization in much the way depicted in the middle panel.

But what is Bosch trying to say? I don't think anyone knows. Belting wonders if this is not a world of "what if..." The Bible declared that all men were descended from Adam but if Columbus had only just crossed the oceans how could Adam's descendants have made it to the antipodes? This was a serious blow to the people of the time since the earthly paradise was shown to be in human imagination alone. This is a world that could have been, if there had been no sin? This is Belting's main contention.

I found it fascinating to learn that the triptych was never used in a church (it is hard to imagine it as an altar piece anyway) but was instead shown along with exotic items in the wunderkammer original owner (and probably the person who commissioned the work) Hendrick III (1483-1538) the nephew and heir of the Count of Nassau, Engelbrecht (d. 1504). Now, that is interesting! This is in the days before Kunstkammer were really even a thing--but Belting describes Durer's astonishment when visiting the castle and seeing the wild animals and all manner of exotic things from the new word and beyond. As Kalliope says:

"Belting then gives a complementary account of the Renaissance texts that dealt with Utopia, naming Sebastian Brant’s The Ship of Fools, Erasmus’s In Praise of Folly, and Thomas More’s Utopia. And although he is not proposing direct links amongst any of them he is presenting Bosch’s preoccupations in the midst of his times. Additionally, the author reminds us that this was the age of geographical discoveries in which European travel was encountering new worlds untouched by their “civilization” and was rapidly affecting the Weltanschauung of the period. Hendrick in his Wunderkammer kept this painting together with other marvels from the Outre-Mer."

I am now going to look into reading more from Belting. I am also hoping to see the Grimani Altarpiece in Venice and will definitely see the Triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony in Lisbon after seeing the Garden of Earthy Delights in Madrid next week. Kalliope is right, El jardín de las delicias is a better name for the work.

[Erik Champenois · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of the paintings I was most fascinated by when visiting the Prado Museum in Madrid was (as is not unusual) Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. This brief (122-page) book explains the painting itself, covers some of what little we know about Bosch, and then connects him to his time period, with a side discussion of Thomas More's utopia. Belting convincingly argues that the center panel of the Garden of Earthly Delights portrays a utopia that never was: what the Garden of Eden would have looked like had Adam and Eve not fallen, and had their descendants (all of us) continued to live in Paradise.

One of the best parts of the book is the close-up pictures of parts of the painting. Unfortunately, not every part of the painting is given attention here, but most of it is. The playfulness of the details Bosch painted are clearer when one can actually see more of the picture. Unfortunately, the book only covers the meanings of the painting in broad strokes: there is little coverage of the meaning of the eggs, the glass containers, and other elements. Still, this is a nice overview and a wonderful way to (re-)explore this unique painting.

[Kirk Johnson · Rating 3 out of 5]

The reproductions are well done but it could use more in the way of details. Less than half the book is a deep dive into the painting. The other more-than-half covers the environment (literary, artistic, political) in which it was painted and the history of the physical painting even after Bosch's death. This is all well and good and appreciated, and Belting's writing style does not make one suffer.

Where this book falls off the rails is the extended portion on Sir Thomas More's (and company's) Utopia, and the three friends involved in its writing. Belting really geeks out over this, and I forgive this because it's entertaining, but I can't quite forgive - maybe because i'm jaded - trying to tie it in with Garden by endlessly circling around half explaining that they're both some sort of John Barth meta breakthrough masterpieces. He may as well have added another circling twenty pages discussing Giles Goat-Boy while he was at it.

[Xavier Gutiérrez lc · Rating 2 out of 5]

Es difícil escribir un libro serio sobre una obra tan enigmática, pero el autor divaga demasiado. La primera mitad del libro vale la pena (cuando habla de la obra), el resto es relleno. Además, su explicación me parece poco convincente a la luz de sus mismos presupuestos: no podemos proyectar en la obra ideas posteriores a la misma. Me convencen más las explicaciones alegóricas en clave cristiana teniendo en cuenta el fondo radicalmente católico del Bosco.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nice attempt on explaining why Bosch's work amazes both his contemporaries and the later generation. The trophy of imagination symbolises the freedom of art as a form of literature.

[Dila · Rating 3 out of 5]

He likes the word œuvre

[Àngels · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked up this book on the garden of earthly delights because this enigmatic painting fascinates me as much as anyone who has ever seen the central or hell panels. Belting is a great writer who explains Bosch's vision as well as his environment and the contemporary lines of thought. The first part of the book is dedicated to the paradise, hell, and then central portions of the triptych with an explanation of how the outer panels were used for a 'wow' factor. The rest appeals to the humanistic side and depicts Bosch's town and his connections to the Count of Nassau and his Late Medieval understanding of the bible passages.

[carelessdestiny · Rating 4 out of 5]

it's a very deeply thought out account of the painting which accepts the limitations of knowledge about it and Bosch's life. It also made me realise how the Lynda Harris book overstates the case for Bosch as a secret heretic. The last sentence of the part on Thomas More's "Utopia" is just perfect : The author relates with the voice of another and the reader can only travel by reading.

[Daniel · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very dense and difficult read. Some good info here and there.