Iconology of the Wayfarer Triptych

Lafond [Lafond, 1914, 79-80] voit ici une interprétation de la Nef des Fous de l’humaniste Sébastien Brant (Das Narrenschiff), ouvrage paru à Bâle en 1494… Avant Lafond [Lafond, 1914, 79-80], [Maeterlinck, 1907, 218-219] avait signal. l’importance du livre de Brant et son influence sur l’art de Bosch, sans toutefois le rattacher à notre tableau, encore inconnu à cette époque. Demonts [Demonts, 1919, 3-8; 296-298] reprend cinq ans plus tard la même interprétation du tableau du Louvre, y voyant non seulement l’influence de l’œuvre de Brant, mais aussi celle, plus précise, d’une suite à la Nef des Fous publiée en 1498 par l’écrivain Josse Bade: la Nef des Folles. Trois gravures en auraient fourni des motifs à Jérôme Bosch. (pp.21-22)

Interprétant l’œuvre comme une satire de la gourmandise, voit dans le mât l’arbre symbolique du Paradis terrestre et dans la tête de squelette le serpent. Demonts [Demonts, 1919, 3-8; 296-298] mentionne aussi les sujets analogues traités par Bosch et connus par des gravures, la Barque bleue et l`Écaille voguant sur Veau, ou par des copies, le Concert dans l’œuf (p.22)

[Schu_rmeyer, 1923, 67] le tableau de Bosch serait une illustration de la Blauwe Schuit, mais ce dernier ignore ce qu’est cette _ Barque bleue _. Enklaar [Enklaar, 1933, 37-64, 145- 161, 21, 35-85] se livre à une étude approfondie de cette société, à partir du poème de Jacob van Oestvorcn, Blauwe Scuut, rédigé à la manière d’un statut, en l’an 1413, à l’occasion d’un tournoi organisé par ses membres en Zélande. Elle groupait tous ceux qu’animait la joie de vivre jusqu’à l’excès, qui faisaient fi des conventions et des convenances et qui prisaient plus la folie que la sagesse; elle comptait des membres dans toutes les classes sociales, y compris le clergé; en _taient exclus les voleurs, les assassins, les femmes de mauvaise vie… Plus large qu’une compagnie de carnaval, la Blauwe Schuit .tait une troupe de joyeux compères qui vivaient, en bohémiens, de représentations théâtrales parodiant la société et les événements importants. Son existence est signalée dans plusieurs villes des Dix-sept Provinces : sûrement à Anvers et à Utrccht, sans doute à Bréda et à Nimègue et, l’auteur le suppose, aussi à Bois-le-Duca. Des sociétés analogues ont existé en France, notamment la gilde des _ Enfants-sans-Souci _ à Paris. Le choix du bateau comme emblème, de même que celui de la couleur bleue, reste assez obscur. L’auteur pense reconnaître une Blauwe Schuit dans le tableau du Louvre. Les personnages se retrouveraient, selon lui, dans le poème de J. van Oestvorcn, sauf peut-être le fou lui-même. Pour étayer son hypothèse, il signale d’autres œuvres, de Bosch ou exécutées d’après cet artiste, qui reçoivent une interprétation plausible quand on y voit des représentations similaires : le Concert dans l’œuf (Senlis, collection Pontalba) et une série de gravures éditées par Jérôme Gock. L’une d’elles porte une inscription indiquant le nom de la barque : Die blau schuyte. (p.22)

Une autre, représentant une écaille voguant sur l’eau, avec tout un équipage [Lafond, 1914, 100], pourrait être mise en rapport avec la société joyeuse de Lyon, intitulée _ La Coquille _. Le tableau serait un symbole de la Blauwe Schuit et non une figuration réaliste car l’auteur pense que la compagnie participait aux carnavals avec des bateaux sur chars plutôt qu’avec de véritables bateaux. En effet, dans Varende Luyden [Enklaar, 1937, 78-79; “Carrus Navalis in Schönbartbuch”, 16th century], il signale un manuscrit conservé à la Bibliothèque universitaire de Hambourg, du X V Ie siècle, le Schônbartbuch, où sont rapportées les mascarades annuelles des bouchers de Nuremberg fêtant le retour du printemps. Une miniature montre un bateau bleu, monté sur roues et tiré à l’aide de cordes. Il est attaqué. par des hommes en armure et défendu par des personnages fantastiques, entre autres par des fous. Une oriflamme rouge avec croissant de lune le surmonte. L’auteur pense que le problème est définitivement résolu : la Blauwe Schuit était un carrus navalis. L’image de la barque figurant l’association de personnes partageant le même but ou le même sort est familière au moyen âge. L’auteur en cite plusieurs exemples, entre autres la Barque de l’Eglise, l’Arche de Noé, le voyage sur mer de sainte Dymphne. (pp.22-23)

Vermeylen [Vermeylen, 1939, 16-18] partage cette opinion. Il pense également que le mât pourrait être du noisetier, arbre qui dans la littérature populaire a reçu une signification symbolique, mais M. A. Lawalrée, directeur de laboratoire au Jardin botanique de l’Etat, Bruxelles, le nie : le mât et le buisson n’en ont ni les feuilles ni le port; il s’agirait plutôt d’aulne (communication orale du 27 janvier 1961). S’il s’agissait tout de même dans l’esprit du peintre de coudrier (les deux arbres se ressemblent), Delevoy [Delevoy, 1960, 31] y verrait une représentation symbolique de la bêtise. (p.23)

Celle-ci pourrait être germanique et remonter à l’époque de Tacite, quand défilaient de nombreux cortèges de printemps, avec un bateau sur un chariot, en l’honneur de la déesse Nerthus. Ces festivités païennes auraient survécu pendant le moyen âge: on pourrait signaler au X I I e siècle l’arrivée, à Maastricht et dans les Pays-Bas du sud, d’un vaisseau sur roues, venant d’Aix-la-Chapelle, qui mit tout le pays en émoi et fut la cause d’excès déplorés par l’abbé. Rudolfus de Saint-Trond (+ 1138), auteur de la Gesla Abbalum Trudonensiutn. Ce fut un événement de caractère social, essentiellement dirigé contre les tisserands, forcés de traîner et de garder le char durant tout le périple. Cependant le professeur P. Bonenfant [Bonenfant, 1958, 99-109] combat la thèse de l’origine antique de la _ nef des tisserands _ et constate que les bateaux de carnaval n’étaient pas encore connus au XIIc siècle. (p.23)

Le sens amer de l’œuvre est mis en relief par Brion [Brion, 1938, 24], qui, replaçant la Nef des Fous dans l’ensemble de l’œuvre de Bosch, y reconnaît _ un résumé de toute l’humanité. Une société d’insensés embarqués dans une barque imbécile, sans voile et sans gouvernail. Une barque qui porte en elle le naufrage; avec ses passagers buvants et hurlants, affairés à des sottises, perdus dans leurs bruyantes querelles. Jamais le pessimisme des satiristes les plus douloureux n’aurait inventé cette synthèse de l’absurdité de la vie _. De même, pour van den Bossche [van den Bossche, 1944, 14, 17, pl. III], le tableau est la stigmatisation de la sottise, cause unique du mal et que Bosch décèle partout. (p.23)

Pour Combe [Combe, 1946, 20-21], le tableau est une illustration du thème pascalien de la poursuite par l’homme du bonheur illusoire, cherché dans le divertissement et qui l’amène à oublier le caractère précaire de sa condition et l’empêche d’envisager sa fin. (p.24)

Mosmans [Mosmans, 1947, 70, note 30] pense que le tableau est plutôt une illustration d’une _ kermesse _ que du carnaval. Celle de Bois-le-Duc avait lieu le 24 juin, date qui convient mieux à la richesse du feuillage de l’arrière-plan. Elle donnait lieu à des excès dans le boire et le manger et à des déguisements, réprouvés par les bons catholiques. Or plusieurs auteurs ont l’impression que les passagers de la Nef des Fous sont déguisés. De Boschère [de Boschère, 1947, 19-20] parle des passagers comme _ d’exceptionnelles figurations de déséquilibre mental _ tandis que Fierens [Fierens, 1947, 54-55, pl. X IX] y voit _ une allégorie de la vie des insouciants qui n’ont ni boussole ni gouvernail et qui fatalement se briseront un jour sur l’écueil de la male mort _, opinion partagée par Leymarie [Leymarie, 1949, VIII-IX, pl 21]. (p.24)

Bax [Bax, 1949, 189-196] préfère donner à l’œuvre une explication symbolique. Chacun des personnages, qui sont stéréotypés, et des éléments du décor, serait un emblème de la folie, de l’intempérance, de la débauche; l’auteur justifie ses assertions par des références à la littérature populaire flamande. De même la barque pourrait ne pas être une embarcation plus réelle que l’écaillc de moule ou la coquille d’œuf de certaines autres compositions. Selon lui, l’artiste n’aurait pas eu en vue une fête détermine. (p.24)

En 1957, Benesch [Benesch, 1957, 28, 33-34] accepte le rapprochement entre l’oeuvre littéraire de Sébastien Brant et le tableau [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510, “The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things”]. Celui-ci pourrait avoir fait partie d’une série des Péchés capitaux et signifier la gourmandise. L’auteur y verrait une transcription assez littérale du poème de Brant intitulé Dass Schluraffen Schiff car le peintre aurait transposé les jeux de mots de Brant : Nargon et Naragun dérivés du mot _ Aragon _, par allusion au mot germanique Narr, fou; de même Montflascun pour Montefiascone est une allusion à l’italien fiascone, grosse bouteille de vin… Benesch aussi avait d.j. constat. une certaine similitude entre la Nef des Fous et l’Allégorie dans laquelle il voit la peinture d’une nuit d’orgie. (p.25)

Dans notre tableau, le fou est un simple élément, un personnage irréel et symbolique chargé d’éclairer le sens de l’œuvre; les autres personnages ne sont pas des fous. Ils sont rassemblés dans une barque, suivant l’idée, commune à l’époque dans le monde entier, de réunir les êtres insociables dans un bateau ; on retrouve même cette idée dans des ivoires chinois, ainsi que le signale Jurgis Baltrusaitis [Baltrusaitis, 1955, 125]. Le même auteur nous montre aussi l’universalité de la figuration de thèmes tels que celui d’arbres où poussent des visages humains, ce qui est le cas dans notre tableau. La tête que l’on aperçoit ici dans le feuillage a été diversement interprétée par les auteurs qui ont voulu y voir soit une tête de mort, soit une chouette (traduction du nom de Bosch en grec). Les personnages de la barque boivent et chantent : nous aurions ici non seulement une satire contre les moines ainsi que Bosch en avait exécutées selon le témoignage des gravures que nous avons citées, mais plutôt une satire dirigée contre l’ivrognerie qu’on leur reprochait. En effet, toutes les gravures, même tardives, illustrant l’ivresse, représentent des tonneaux, des cruches renversées, des joueurs de luth; l’un des buveurs y a souvent un verre sur la tête. Or, tous ces éléments se retrouvent dans notre tableau. (pp.28-29)

D’autre part, l’ivresse porte à la colère, ce qui permet d’interpréter le geste du personnage qui frappe le jeune garçon avec une cruche. (p.29)

Il est encore plus facile d’expliquer celui de l’homme qui se trouve à côté du tonneau, et qui se penche pour vomir. En résumé, tous les actes des personnages s’appliquent à notre hypothèse, et les faces rouges ne peuvent que la confirmer. Ainsi ces moines ont perdu le contrôle de leurs sens et de leur âme; le fou, irréel, qui boit, est là comme un signe qui nous rappelle que l’ivresse engendre la folie. Les moines ivres ne pensent pas à leur nourriture : comme des moineaux, ils mangent des cerises. (p.29)

…tandis que les moines essayent vainement d’attraper de leurs bouches avides un objet suspendu au cordage et que, dans leur esprit illuminé, ils pensent être destiné à assouvir leur passion. Ce même objet, nous le retrouvons porté au bout du bâton d’un homme monté avec une femme sur un poisson volant, dans un volet de la Tentation de saint Antoine de Lisbonne [Bosch, ca. 1500 (Temptations of St. Anthony)]. (p.29)

M. Camille Benoit, à Paris, possède un panneau en hauteur, peut-être un volet de triptyque, qui figure une barque voguant sur l’eau, pleine de passagers, incontestablement un souvenir de la Nef des fous de Sébastien Brandt [Brant, 1962]… (p. 79)

Concert dans une barque (La Nef des Fous) [Brant, 1962] (p. 114)

Il ne semble d’abord qu’une fantaisie satirique contre la gourmandise, plus spécialement contre la gourmandise des moines, et telle qu’on en trouve dans les manuscrits du xive siècle et surtout dans les sculptures sur bois : miséricordes, stalles et culs-de-lampe. (p.3)

Il existe, au cabinet d’Amsterdam, une rare estampe d’après Jérôme Bosch [van der Heyden, 1562], et qui représente dans une grande écaille formant nacelle une société de religieuses et de moines gourmands. Comme dans notre tableau, le mât de cette étrange nef consiste en un arbre, mais celui-ci dénudé; un hareng y est également suspendu; on y boit, on y vomit, on y chante, la guitare y est seulement remplacée par un gril. (p. 4)

La première gravure de cet ouvrage représente « la plus grande des folies humaines, dont la première femme, Eve, fut la cause originaire » [”La barque d’Ëve”, ca. 1510-1520; Badius, 1498]. La nef qui porte cette première folle a pour mât l’arbre symbolique où se tient caché le serpent tentateur, qui, selon l’usage du Moyen âge, porte une tête humaine; deux demons guident la barque; ils sont en costumes de fous, portent la cape à grelots; à la poupe flotte un pavillon où se dessine la silhouette d’un dragon infernal; au fond est esquissé un paysage. Jérôme Bosch aura sans doute emprunté à cette gravure l’étrange mât feuillu de sa barque, où le serpent aura été remplacé par la tête de mort que nous y voyons’; il lui aura emprunté le pavillon qui flotte à la poupe, la forme caractéristique de sa rame, et le fou avec ses grelots. (p. 6)

La composition principale eût représenté toutes les folies humaines, empruntées à l’oeuvre de Sébastien Brant [Brant, 1962] plutôt qu’à celle de Badius, et se dirigeant dans des centaines d’embarcations vers la grande- nef qui va faire voile vers l’ile de Narragonie, ou, selon les termes de la vieille traduction française, « le grand naufrage des fols qui sont en la nef naviguant en la mer de ce monde ‘. (p. 8)

La Nef des fous transporte au pays de Narragonie de grossiers paysans, des riches égoïstes, des docteurs bavards et des moines gourmands; mais on n’y châtie plus leurs vices : on s’en moque; on ne les nomme même plus des vices : ce sont des défauts, presque de simples « ridicules ». Voici venir le sceptique et humoriste Éloge de la folie d’Erasme [Erasmus, 1913], avec son persiflage à la moderne et son paradoxe, qui n’est plus pour les masses : le bonheur, dit-il, que goûtent les mortels de tout état est en proportion de la puissance qu’exerce la folie sur leurs âmes. C’est déjà la philosophie de La Fontaine [Jean de La Fontaine’s philosophy, 17th century]: une claire vue des choses et leur acceptation. (p. 10)

In 1919 Demonts [Demonts, 1919, 4] related the painting to the illustrations in Josse Bade’s French edition of 1498, and interpreted the theme on gluttony. (p.272)

Some of the motifs in the Louvre painting have striking connections with Flemish manuscript illuminations of Bosch’s own day. Monks in a boat shown parallel to the picture plane, as in Bosch’s panel, can be found in several manuscripts that illustrate the Miracles de Nostre Dame [Le Tavernier & Miélot, ca. 1456; Le Tavernier & Miélot, ca. 1470]. One of these, now in Paris, and probably made in the Tavernier shop in Bruges in the 1470’s, shows a group of monks on a pleasure outing in a boat [Delaissé, 1959, pl. 59]. They are frightened by the sight of devils carrying off the soul of an apostate. In fear of drowning from demonic attack, they pray to the Virgin for aid, which is given to them [Laborde, 1929, I; 33ff]. The scene is clearly not an exact parallel to Bosch’s painting, but it does portray monks in a boat engaged in what the text implies is pleasure-seeking, and thus sinful behavior. From this we may conclude that a boating party and sinful monks were readily associated ideas in Bosch’s time (p.273)d

One may view the work in the same light as Bosch’s Lisbon triptych of the Temptation of St. Anthony, to which it may be reated in time and style. As the Lisbon triptych presents a synthesis of medieval belief and the several themes of St. Anthony’s temptations, so the Louvre work forms a whole in which the monk and his companions are, according to Bosch, fools like those who go on musical boating parties, which lead the participants into sinful behavior. A conclusion that Bosch was a fifteenth-century Anthony Comstock seems particularly apt at this point [Panofsky, 1953, 357]. (p.274)

The Washington panel, whose theme is the deadly sin of avarice, has been related to the popular Ars moriendi, or the Art of Dying Well [Ars moriendi, ca. 1415-1450], which was illustrated in woodcuts and engravings. Tervarent [de Tervarent, 1945, 61ff.], however, preferred to see its source in a death scene in a German miniature of the second quarter of the fifteenth century, in which he found a greater number of motifs related to the painting than can be discovered in Ars moriendi scenes. Bax [Bax, 1948, 244], however, cited a death scene from the Miracles de Nostre Dame in which a figure looks into a chest placed at the foot of the dying man’s bed; this he thought even more closely related to Bosch’s painting than the miniature cited by Tervarent. However, in these two scenes the chest is not that of a miser, which it certainly is in Bosch’s panel. (p.275)

The illustration to Chapter XVII of Brant’s work, entitled Of Useless Riches, seems to be related compositionally to the Washington panel, and the final lines of the accompanying text present the moral… [Brant, 1944, 101] This chapter, significantly, follows one which castigates drunkenness and feasting, whose sinful overindulgence Bosch also warned against in the Louvre and Yale panels. Bosch, one may conclude, drew upon his memory of the Narrenschiff when he sketched out the composition of the Washington panel. Bosch’s miser is in keeping with the tradition of La Somme le Roi illustration, but is more subtly expressed than the obvious fool’s capped figure from the Narrenschiff. (p.275)

…in this world greed and falsity go hand in hand in evil union. This allegorical statement was even stronger as Bosch first conceive it. The underdrawing, revealed by infrared photography [”Detail, infrared reflectogram image of Death and the Miser”, 1982], shows that the dying man in bed holds the viaticum in his hand, but in the final rendition the greedy sinner is still more interested in the moneybag offered by the demon than in the salvation the angel vainly tries to make him see might be his. Bosch had thus originally indicated that the avaricious would sell even the viaticum. (p.275-276)

Viewed in this light, the association of the appurtenances of knighthood with the main theme of Avarice becomes understandable. This is not a social satire of the nobility, as Tolnay [de Tolnay, 1965, 25] thought, but a satire on the greed of false knights; it is also a statement of Bosch’s inherent pessimism. That all life leads to death is a truism, he seems to say, but men’s actions, because of the enormity of their sins, lead to an everlasting death without hope of resurrection to a new and better life. The baleful little man on the far side of the cloth hung over the low wall (a visual anticipation of the mounted skull-topped armored figure trailing a long cloth in the Lisbon panel) is a pictorial exposition of Bosch’s meaning, for in his thinking all the things of this world are permeated with evil. (p.276)

The association of the paraphernalia of knighthood with the actions of the miser and the standing figure may seem illogical to the modern mind, but surely it was not so for Bosch. What is seen here is the leap characteristic of his symbolically oriented thinking. He used his motifs with full knowledge of their traditional significations, but so combined them in his unprecedented moralizing pictures that the motifs take on allusive rather than explicit import. For him, apparently, their intrinsic meanings were not changed by the alteration or removal of their traditional framework, but for us they have become so transformed by time that they are almost unintelligible. (p.276)

His symbolism has received many interpretations including psychoanalytic explanations for the erotic images. Yet a simpler and perhaps more reliable approach to understanding Bosch’s imagery is offered by Sebastian Brant’s Das Narrenschiff (Ship of Fools) [Bax, 1948, 199]. (p.18)

Although not a real ship, the barrel adrift at sea may refer to the ship of fools portrayed by Brant in the Prologue [Brant, 1498 (Frontispiece)] (p.18)

In Bosch’s painting, the vessel appears far too small partly because of the obesity of the seafarer [Brant, 1962, 58]. The barrel has room only for the Man sitting on top while his skinny companions push him along. The very image of gluttony, he seems as full as the barrel with his puffed-out cheeks and round paunch. Both the glutton and his round wine cask have reached the bursting point, for he spews music from a long trumpet just as the barrel spews wine. With eyes nearly popping out of his head and his stomach stretching tight the strings of his vest, he epitomizes the greedy, obese Christian. (p.18)

The smooth, generalized surface of his round face and stomach form an odd contrast with his delicate, insect-like hands and his spindly legs, which barely seem capable of supporting the huge burden above. Brant warns of the folly of gluttony.[Brant, 1962, 98] (p.20)

By his mere physical size he seems about to topple over into the sea. But he remains oblivious to the danger and unaware that his companions may pose a threat to his security. His fine and sleek paunch may incur the envy and jealousy of his retinue, whose partially hidden faces suggest a note of conspiracy. He appears unaware that they are already sneaking wine from the cask, right from under his nose [Brant, 1962, 283]. (p.20)

The glutton’s strange paraphernalia may signify another aspect of his corruption. He sports curious head-gear, an inverted funnel that often alludes to man’s madness or mere folly [Cuttler, 1957, 122]. The funnel signifies a make-shift fool’s cap as Brant suggests [Brant, 1962, 314]. (p.20)

Despite his position and propriety, the glutton must wear a funnel as if he, too, lacks the cloth for a cap. Using the same image, Brant attacks those who do not revere one true God while Bosch satirizes the selfish gluttony of all Christians [Brant, 1962, 314]. (p.20)

An image like the trumpet protuding from his mouthless, pneumatic face further parodies the glutton’s pomposity. A long, slender pipe appears frequently in Bosch’s art, usually connected with folly [Cuttler, 1957, 122]. The Man seems so preoccupied with his pipe that he fails to see where they are headed… His eyes bulging out from blowing, he cannot see past the end of his trumpet. His preoccupation leaves him oblivious to the men around him or the leak in the barrel. His folly represents that of all Christians who ignore the possibility of their own destruction while pursuing a vain and frivolous purpose [Brant, 1962, 187]. (pp.20-21)

The narrow pipe and the slender stick held delicately in his hand are as tooth- picks compared to his inflated face and body. Striking his formal pose, he carries the branch like a proper banner, recalling another fool from Brant’s poem… [Brant, 1962, 187] Unable to play a harp and evoke heavenly music, the man instead must play with toys such as pipe and branch. Supporting a ball (perhaps an apple) on a string, the branch may signify a distant relative of the Tree of Life which led to the fall of man; the ball hangs above the noses of the swimmers as if alluding to the first temptation. (p.21)

The relation of the fully-dressed Man to the naked skinny men pushing him suggests a proverbial contrast between the lesser and the greater in size, dress, and occupation. The glutton rides along while they toil away much like the peasants Brant describes [Brant, 1962, 242]. (p.21)

Though certainly no priest, the glutton appears to be the lazy leader of the crew. Flourishing wand and pipe, he seems content to play the lord, but never work while his minions strain to push him. But despite his lordly manner, the glutton is in a precarious position. He tempts fate by sitting fully clothed and balanced only by his spindly legs. His foolishness recalls Brant’s comment [Brant, 1962, 122, 273]. (p.21)

Whether he symbolizes a lord or a priest, he remains unprotected from the possible treachery of those accompanying him. Already his victimized crew seems on the verge of mutiny with their eyes on the wine spilling out and the ball dangling above them. The imagery illustrates Brant’s message that man can trust his fellow man only so far [Brant, 1962, 58]. (p.22)

The glutton allows the men to direct the rudderless ship wherever they please. He overlooks the possibility that his wealth or wine or position may arouse the envy of the others, a fatal oversight, according to Brant [Brant, 1962, 333]… The companions glance up at the Anti-christ with almost conspiratorial intent while one sneaks a bowl of wine from the barrel. But the glutton is unaware of their antics; even if he could see past the end of his trumpet, he could not distinguish between real friendship and deceit. (p.22)

The glutton appears oblivious to the intentions of his skinny friends, a dubious-looking crew at best. One untrustworthy type wears only a hood, perhaps that of an acrobat or jongleur. Another catches the leaking wine, while his companion chases an unseen object through the water. The latter merits particular attention, for he wears on his head a covered dish with a duck or goose underneath. Although he seems to be blinded by the hat and unable to see where he is, the man pursues his object with arms outstretched and groping, recalling Brant’s portrait of those who act like geese [Brant, 1962, 141]. (p.22)

By wearing odd and cumbersome headgear, the man seems as brainless as the bird on his head. Like him, all the other characters in the picture act blind and fail to realize where they are headed. Except for the glutton-who cannot see past the end of his trumpet anyway-their eyes remain dim brown shadows. They fail to recognize any possible danger, disregarding Brant’s warning in The Schluraffen Ship (Ship of Apes). (p.22)

Apart from the moral threat of damnation, Bosch creates a mute, uneasy feeling that man’s well-being is threatened. More subtle than Brant, he blurs the boundary between animate and inanimate forms. The similarity of the glutton’s sphere-like form to the round barrel almost dissolves the distinction between human and non-human. The glutton himself, with his expansive paunch and rigid, twig-like fingers, suggests not a human figure but some strange insect. The three men leaning against the barrel produce only a tiny wave, as if no human force attached to their actions. They seem to be mere shadows, their faces blurred and indistinct and their eyes unable to focus. Their lack of expression or muscular force deprives their actions of meaning or vitality. While they act their rôles, the figures threaten to drift away from each other like separate and unrelated marionettes. (p.22)

The clothes and landscape in the foreground enhance this sense of unease by acquiring a life of their own. The mound or boulder nudging its way under the tent is a mysterious and silent force. The clothes parade from left foreground toward the ten in spaced intervals. One shoe almost walks through the tent doorway, while the other pair of shoes hangs strategically on the tree and points to the pig’s trotter over the tent, a sign of the devil. Though the clothes clearly belong to the naked swimmers, the ambiguity of their placement connects the two scenes of folly. In their steady march across the picture, the clothes seem a threat to both the men and the lovers and perhaps capable of some sudden rebellion. In Bosch’s painting no safety can be found on wisdom’s shore as Brant suggests, for the shore itself appears menacing. (p.22)

Surmounted by the sign of a cleft hoof, the pink tent represents a house of drink and lust. The fragile decoration tracing the edges of the roof, the square hole in the roof and absence of a door suggest the impermanence of the dwelling in which the couple carelessly celebrates. Brant describes a similar abandonment to pleasure in Of the Power of Fools [Winkler, 1951, 13; Brant, 1962, 169]. (p.23)

The tent of mirth and the train of clothes leading up to it allude to a seduction. (p.23)

Bosch implies a connection between drinking and love-making in the tent o mirth through the erotic symbol of a jug upon the table. Framed by the door, the whispering couple stands alone in the tent’s dim interior, involved in a private tête-à-tête. Light fails to pierce the black-reddish depths of the murky space behind the lovers, enhancing the sense of forbidden mystery within. Yet the couple does not appear to enjoy their moment of secret passion. The onslaught bold and blind remains more blind than bold, for the lovers appear sightless, their eyes blurred by shadow. Though the woman makes a small gesture towards the man (or towards the cup of wine) , she turns her face away and avoids looking at him. (p.23)

…these ‘children of the moon’ are obsessed by the thought of food and drink… the whole digestive system, the stomach, stomach ailments and nausea were subject to the moon’s control [Agrippe, 1910, 1, 62; de Saint-Marc, 1880, 180-183; Saintyves, 1937,139, 149, 191]. ‘Picatrix’ [Ritter, Plessner & Mayriti, 212] records that ‘children of the moon’ are characterized by their gluttony and drunkenness, and Abraham Ibn Ezra [Abraham, Levy & Cantera, 1939, 201] also notes their gluttony… Of the seven deadly sins, each of which was associated with one of the planets, it was gluttony that fell to the moon [Boll, 1913, 37]. (pp.62-63)

The dominating figure in Bosch’s boatload of phlegmatics is the jester sitting on the withered branch, drinking from a bowl, and it is this figure, linked with the lunar symbolism, that gives the work its decidedly moralizing meaning. In the 15th and 16th centuries the jester was represented at the feet of the so-called anatomical man, for he signified a wandering mind and was subject to the influence of the moon as the planet which provokes mental illness [Saintyves, 1937, 139, 151, 189; Lacombe, 1963, Pls. 18, 22, 42]… It is thus no mere accident that Bosch’s jester, the symbol of lunar folly, is a hunchback. Jesters were also represented in illustrations of the phlegmatic temperament, for, according to traditions reaching back to Hippocrates, phlegma was the source of mental deficiency [Hildegarde, 1903, 74; O’Brien-Moore, 1924, 26; Klibansky, Panofsky & Saxl, 1964, fig 90b] (p.64)

The jester-fool was the type of the sinner who was subject not to the direction of the spirit but to sublunar matter, which the moon dispensed with its characteristic inconstancy [Swain, 1932, passim]… The moon is always interpreted as meaning human nature and the sun, the source of light, signifies God [Erasmus, 1828]. Thus in medieval literature the basic characteristics of stupidity were recognized as being derived from the inconstancy of the moon. Bosch has represented them in his lunar boat full of phlegmatics by the figure of a jester… The fool’s boat, in which the dominating figure of the jester symbolizes the folly derived from the moon as the source of sin and death. (pp.65-66)

Clearly, the principal deathbed temptation here is avarice, although pride might also be suggested by the foreground trappings of status and power, in the form of knightly jousting equipment (hardly of any use to such an old man) and the official, seal-marked documents that demons display along with moneybags in the strongbox at the foot of the bed [vandenbroeck, 1987, 96-97.]. What this painting makes clear is that the issue of choice, expressed in the form of right seeing, is still being offered to this dying man, who opts in the (very) end for the sinful temptations of a demon rather than the way of the cross and the light urged by the angel. (p.630)

… worldly vice of luxury…show the combination of lust and indulgence known among the Seven Sins as luxuria. We can easily compare the scene of Luxuria from the Seven Deadly Sins panel, which displays a similar combination of rich costume, taste, and eros [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510]. (p.630)

Coats of arms on the tent (Yale) or wine tankard (Prado) point to titled nobles and the tradition of the courtly gardens of love. This class satire on the part of Bosch is reinforced in the Seven Deadly Sins [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510] through the presence of foppish archaic costume as well as a costumed fool (with ass’s ears and coxcomb, like the fool in Massys’s III-Matched Pair) [Massys, ca. 1520-1525]. (p.630)

… worldly vice of luxury…show the combination of lust and indulgence known among the Seven Sins as luxuria. We can easily compare the scene of Luxuria from the Seven Deadly Sins panel [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510], which displays a similar combination of rich costume, taste, and eros…we find there some of the same costly foodstuffs (especially cherries and roast fowl) and wine flasks, as well as a fool in his standard costume. (p.630)

Music (often an emblem of wasteful indulgence in Bosch, especially in the Hell wing of The Garden of Earthly Delights triptych) is common to both worlds of luxury, but the Prado panel contains both harp and recorder, while the Paris panel has only a lute. (p.630)

Ironically, these instruments tend to occur in images with angelic musicians in 15th-century Flemish paintings, presumably as prestige instruments associated with (heavenly) court life, in contrast to the more vulgar bagpipes and other peasant instruments. [Winternitz, 1967, 66-85, 129-149; Hammerstein, 1962; Brant, 1944, 186.] (p.647, note 19)

The presence of monks and nuns in the Ship of Fools further underscores the hypocrisy and folly of wrong behavior and personal indulgence (emblematized in the center of the boat by the giant hanging pancake, the traditional indulgence food of carnival). (p.630)

…the Paris-New Haven wing embodies a deadly sin here, luxury, both of gourmandise (rather than the sin of gluttony, with its own segment on the circle of sins) and of sexuality (note that the scene of the punishment for luxury in the Hell roundel of the Prado sins consists of a fornicating couple in bed with demons[Bosch, ca. 1505-1510, “The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things”]). (p.630)

…depicts sloth, careless selfishness, as displayed by the passengers in the boat… (p.31)

…unchaste love, as represented by the couple in the tent. This couple could be regarded as the core from which all sins derive, hence this wing could aptly be titled Luxuria…(pp.31-32)

…it is a pig’s trotter, which can be explained by the image of the pig as a symbol of gluttony. Jews are often depicted in a disreputable way by being linked to the pig [Shachar, 1974, 5; Fabre-Vassas, 1997]. Pigs’ trotters always crop up in Bosch’s work wherever gluttony or impending poverty are concerned [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510; Cinotti, 1966, cin. 2, cin. 43; Follower of Pieter Bruegel, ca. 1550-1575; Bosch, ca. 1520-1545″; Lugt, 1968, 25; Koldeweij, Kooij & Vermet, 2001, 160], since it is this small residue of the pig that could be given away to the poor. (pp. 34-35)

The barrel-rider also belongs to this context of gluttony as a parody of Bacchus. But since he wears a funnel, a Jewish allusion is possible: Jews are depicted with a pointed hat. There could be an allusion to the “avarus” too, who, according to the ancients, was seen as a dropsy sufferer: the more he drank, the thirstier he became. In other words, the more money he has, the more he wants [Newhauser, 1986, 320 ff..]. (p. 36)

La Nef des fous [Brant, 1962], qui pendant l’époque de production artistique de Bosch et de Breughel eut une si grande popularité, doit certes avoir influencé ces artistes. Ce livre était d’ailleurs illustré par une série de gravures sur bois hardiment exécutées. Prenant pour point de départ les paroles du prédicateur : Stultorum numerus est infinitus, Brand montre, sous toutes les formes, la folie de ses contemporains et en met les causes à nu. Les gravures qui l’ornent constituent de véritables tableaux satiriques du temps. (p. 219)

On the board between them, which does duty for a table, is a dish of cheeries (symbol of sensual pleasure). (p. 31)

Surrounded by a shipload of grotesque characters plainly the worse for drink, they sit face to face, singing lustily to the sound of a lute (which at the time had erotic associations). (p. 31)

Under a pink pennon bearing the Crescent, corrupt humanity embarks in a nutshell and abandons itself to the pleasure of gluttony unaware that it is drifting to its doom. The clergy occupies the place of honour in this scapha gustationis, which was probably once part of a triptych made up of other ‘ships of fools’ depicting various sensual pleasures. (p. 92)

It illustrates, long before Pascal, the Pascalian theme of man’s pursuit of illusory happiness, seeking it in entertainment which makes him forget the precariousness of his condition and diverts his mind from the contemplation of his end, an idea familiar to Bosch and his contemporaries. It underlies the Praise of Folly by Erasmus [Erasmus, 1913]. The ardor with which men run after happiness is proportionate to their degree of folly. (p. 24)

And Sebastian Brant, in his Ship of Fools first printed in 1494 [Brant, 1962], devotes each chapter to the description of a different sort of folly, the absorption in which distracts men from Truth and the attainment of salvation. He imagines them all sailing in a fleet of ships, all adrift in the dark, foolishly given up to merrymaking and carnal delights, careless of ever getting into port. (p. 24)

The tree which serves as a mast [de Tolnay, 1937, note 66; “La barque d’Ëve”, ca. 1510-1520] seems derived from the Tree of Life, which, in the first of those woodcuts, rigs the boat in which Adam is tempted by Eve, the very first voyage towards the mirage of a world of vain appearances. With Bosch, the staring owl, the bird of darkness, takes the place of the wily serpent. (p. 24)

He again makes use of a crescent-bearing oriflamme, and the motley fool, perched on a spar with his cap, bells and bauble, is the twin brother of the mariners in Josse Bade’s work [Badius, 1498]. Each of the subsequent prints represents the folly of one or other senses and it has been suggested [Demonts, 1919, 1 ff] that Bosch, adopting this idea, depicted here the follies of ear and taste, and that the panel might well be one of the wings of a triptych illustrating the topic to a finish. (pp. 24-25)

In de Ommegang, die IS Augustus 1563 ter ere van Maria te Antwerpen gehouden werd, hekelde men ook de zotheid [van Duyse, 1908, 198]. Op een wagen werd de kei gesneden [Bax, 1952, 206]. Daarachter reed te paard iemand ,,int Boonstroo[Woordenboek der Nederlandsche Taal III, 1912, 1, 444; von Fallersleben, 1855, nr LIV], een ander ,,inden Haeseler, dus in een hazelaarsstruik of versierd met hazelaarstakken, en een derde ,,met een Muelen inde hant bestooven sijnde met den Meelbuydel omdat de sulcke haer wijsheyt verloren hebben [Woordenboek der Nederlandsche Taal II, 1882, 2, 2185; Veurman & Bax, 1944, 95, 117, 224]. De hazelaar is dus bier een symbool van de dwaasheid, wat hij ook is in De Roovere’s spel Quiconque vult sa/vus esse, waar iemand beet ,,Half-Dul-Half-Vroet in den haselare ende meer andre weghen, d.w.z. iemand die half zot, half wijs is ,,in den haselare en op andere manieren [Enklaar, 1937, 71, note 3]. Op welke wijze men zot is, als men ,,in den haselare is, leert ons bet volgende. (p. 192)

In de 16de eeuw betekent ,,in de hazelaar klimmen ook toornig worden [Woordenboek der Nederlandsche Taal IV, 1916, 162; Lyna & van Eeghem, 1932, r. XVI, 31]. Nu blijkt uit een 16de-eeuws referein, waarin o.m. zot genoemd wordt ,,Tvolck dat duer berespen in dhazeler clemt, dat ook zij die oplopend van aard zijn, door de 16de-eeuwers tot de zotten gerekend werden [Heremans, 1877, 64]. In bet genoemde Vastenavondlied betekent de uitdrukking ,,lopen inden top (nl. van de hazelaar) [Heremans, 1877, Verse 2:5 acc] dan ook: zot worden, dwaze dingen gaan doen, doordat men toornig is, en de uitdrukking ,,in den haselaer sijn [Heremans, 1877, Verse 7:5 acc]: zot zijn, dwaze dingen doen, doordat men toornig is. Elders in bet lied betekenen dergelijke gezegden met hazelaar eenvoudig: zot, dwaas zijn, soms met onkuise bijbetekenis. (p. 192)

Het is niet onmogelijk, dat soortgelijke uitdrukkingen ontstaan zijn, omdat de hazelaar als erotisch motief kon dienen [Bax, 1949, Bosch, ca. 1512-1515, Brands, 1921, de Tollenaere, 1941, Kalff, 1907], welke symboliek weer zijn oorsprong lijkt te vinden in bet vroege bloeien van de boom (eind Januari en in Februari, v66rdat de bladeren verschijnen), waardoor hij tot een zinnebeeld van bet nieuwe leven en de vruchtbaarheid werd. (p. 192)

De bedoelde ontwikkeling kan zich aldus hebben voorgedaan: in de hazelaar klimmen = het spel der minne spelen >zot zijn (vgl. dat sotte ghewerc dat sotte dinc = bijslaap, [Verwijs & Verdam, 1885-1929, 1589])> wild, opvliegend, toornig zijn. Men denke aan vechten in onkuise zin [Bax, 1952, 65]. Op de overgang naar ,,zot zijn kan het woord „haas als symbool van de dwaasheid (vgl. Hgd. Hase = gek, zot: [Enklaar, 1937, 71]; betekent „haze [Lyna & van Eeghem, 1932, r. XC, 46] ook „zot?) van invloed zijn geweest. (p. 196, note 74)

De mast zelf wordt terecht beschouwd als een zinnebeeld van de dwaasheid [Demonts, 1919, 11; Enklaar, 1937, 71], en vergeleken met een plaats uit een esbatement, waarmee de Bossche kamer ,,Moyses Doorn op bet Landjuweel te Antwerpen in 1561 de hoogste prijs behaalde: Des keyaerts mast staet bier doorvast, Daer ghy u aen moet houwen, enz. [Hermans, 1867, 295]. (p. 192)

…de uil in de mastkruin dat der dwaasheid [Bax, 1949, 159] (p. 193)

…de pollepel die als stuurriem dient, symboliseert onmatigheid, verkwisting, dwaasheid en losbandigheid [Bax, 1949, 165] (p. 193)

Men meent de meesten terug te vinden in de bemanning van de Blauwe Schuit van Jacop van Oestvoren[van Oestvoren, 1413; Brant, 1962; Badius, 1498; Maeterlinck, 1907, 219; Gossart, 1907, 191; Demonts, 1919, 6 ff.; de Tolnay, 1937, 28, 64, note 65; van der Heyden, 1562; van der Heyden, 1559; Combe, 1946, 36, 66, note 128]… De nar en de naakte kerels ontbreken echter. Reeds bleek ons, dat vele leden van de bemanning, die volgens Jacops gedicht de Blauwe Schuit vullen moet, nooit tot het Brabantse Carnavalsgezelschap behoord zullen hebben, maar dat zij genoemd worden om de sfeer van losheid en dwaasheid weer te geven, welke de club nastreefde. Zij zijn geijkte typen, die voor de 15de-eeuwers zinnebeelden waren van het lichte en losse leven, en ook de sujetten van Bosch lijken zulke stereotiepe figuren. De vent „inden haselare, de nar met zijn marot, de zijn maag legende vraat, de man die de grote pollepel hanteert, zuster Lute en haar verlopen monnik, de jolige drinkebroer met de op een stok gestoken kan, de drank- en minlustige bagijn, de neergevallen dronkaard en de twee naakte boeven, die gaarne bij het nat zijn, zij allen waren voor van Akens tijdgenoten symbolen. Zo’n stelletje heeft men in werkelijkheid nooit te zamen gezien, evenmin als de bemanning van de Blauwe Schuit uit het gedicht, behalve dan wellicht in een schuit als die te Nijmegen of Bergen-op-Zoom, waarin men hen kan nagebootst en gehekeld hebben. Maar indien ooit echte fuifnummers in een schuit door een stad getrokken zijn, waren zij niet zulke symbolen als de pretmakers van Jeroen [Bax, 1949, 196:note 112]. (p. 194)

In het gedicht van Jacop van Oestvoren vindt men de personen terug, die Bosch afgebeeld heeft. De monnik op den voorgrond beantwoordt aan de beschrijving van de ,,papen ende clercken… [Verwijs, 1871, 96:vs. 53-55] (p. 146)

van dergelijke „moniken ende begheven lude zegt de dichter… [van Oestvoren, 1413; Verwijs, 1871, 96:vs. 74-84] (p. 147)

Dus zouden wij de Blauwe Schuit, zooals wij haar op het schilderij van Bosch zien, als een reëele weergave hebben te aanvaarden; ook de beide zwemmers op den voorgrond. Voor de authenticiteit van dergelijke groteske figuren bij vertooningen van dezen aard hebben wij een bewijs in het in 1445 uitgevaardigde verbod van den aartsbisschop van Sens, waarbij de lieden veroordeeld werden, die min of meer naakt — „sine verendorum tegmine” — met hun wagenspelen door de stad trokken, „in curribus et vehiculis sordidis” [de Julleville, 1889, 40]. In hun naaktheid heeft men slechts een uiting van de naieve, populaire zinnelijkheid te zien, die een zonderlinge tegenstrijdigheid vormt met het sterke schaamtegevoel, dat het tijdvak overigens vertoont. Professor Huizinga, die deze eigenaardigheid bij veel tableaux-vivants der teneinde loopende Middeleeuwen gesignaleerd heeft, wees er tevens op, dat zij niets te maken heeft met Griekschen schoonheidszin of platte onbeschaamdheid [Huizinga, 1919, 521 ff.]. (p. 155-156)

In het gedicht van Jacop van Oestvoren vindt men de personen terug, die Bosch afgebeeld heeft [van Oestvoren, 1413]. De monnik op den voorgrond beantwoordt aan de beschrijving van de „papen ende clercken”… [Verwijs, 1871, 96:vs. 53-55] (p. 68)

van dergelijke „moniken ende begheven lude” zegt de dichter… [van Oestvoren, 1413; Verwijs, 1871, 96:vs. 74-84] (p. 68)

The Ship of Fools in the Louvre has been rightly pointed out as an illustration to Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff, the Ship of Fools, and to the Dutch popular conception of The Blue Barge. It too may once have formed part of a series of deadly sins and have signified greed and gluttony. (pp. 33-34)

Die Narrheit ist eine schwere Krankheit des Menschengeschlechtes, welches ohne Steuer und Segel im Narrenschiff dahinfähr (p. 13)

Der seines Inhalts entleerte Krug ist ein Sinnbild der Torheit und der vanitas, so beim Narrenschiff… Wo das lebenspendende Naß nicht in Ehren gehalten wird, breitet sich das von Dämonen entfachte Feuer aus. (p. 13)

Der seines Inhalts entleerte Krug ist ein Sinnbild der Torheit und der vanitas, so … beim Verlorenen Sohn. Wo das lebenspendende Naß nicht in Ehren gehalten wird, breitet sich das von Dämonen entfachte Feuer aus. (p. 13)

Nuns and monk were not always as pious as they promised to be. These two are having more fun than people then thought they should. (p. 24)

La Nef des Fous de Jerôme serait dans la realite ime coquilletrop etroite pour contenir ses lunatiques passagers. Où a-t-on vu plus d’inconscience que dansde comportement des misérables réunis dans cet esquif, qui serait un parfait frontispicepour le livre de Brant [Brant, 1944]? Lequel de ces écervelés a induit lesautres à se confier à ce bateau minuscule, sans gouvernail ni voile? Le dieu de la folie les gardera-t-il jusqu’à leur retotirdans leur cambuse defaite, leur couvent anarchique, ou leurboutique poussiereuse perdue de desordre? (p. 1)

Si lepanneauavait la propriété d’émettre des sons, entendrionsnous des cris désordonnés, apanage d’une telle societe ? Sauf nos quatre bouches ouvertes, rien ne fait supposer que soit rompu le triste silence. Bosch a-t-il voulu nous faire entendre que, entre deux bouchees arrachées a la tarte, ces bouches chanteraient avec accoinpagnement de guitare ? L’une des figures lève haut la main comme pour-accueillir d’autres fous, mais, comme il s’agit de I’un de ceux qui convoitent la tarte, de sa bouche ouverte ne sortiront peut-etre que de sottes revendications. C’est encore la tarte suspendue comme un appat qui distrait le seul de tous ces nautes eberlues qui se soit inquiete de la navigation. Une palette de boulanger, dans ses mains, a d’abord servi de rame. II la laisse maintenant trainer dans I’eau sombre, humiliee de porter cette potee d’ignorants qui bafouent la poesie des flots. Les seuls de ces desequilibres dont on atten-, dait des cris, se disputent en silence. Les levres trop serrees meme pour que s’en echappe un murmure, une femme menace d’une enorme cniche de gres un lourdaud, accroupi, qui projetait de s’attaquer a une grosse fiasque de gervoise, boisson de I’epoque, ou de vin, moins probablement. La bouteille trempe dans I’onde que l’on suppose fralche, malgrd la fievre bouillante qui s’agite dans I’esquif voguant à la déive. (p. 3)

The profligacy and lust featured on the left were traits especially associated to youth. (p. 191)

A pewter beaker and a plate of cherries, symbols of carnal lust [Vandenbroeck, 1989, 162f], stand between them (the friar and nun) on a plank that projects out over the side of the boat like a springboard. (p. 191).

To the right of the main group, perched on a branch that projects from the stern of the boat like a mast or bowsprit, is a personification of Folly, a jester sipping reflectively from a bowl. (p. 191)

…dressed in red and holding a knife in one hand, is scaling the main mast in order to cut down a trussed and plucked chicken: a symbol of Gluttony. (p. 191)

…a barrel in the boat, a fish dangling from the right branch and a jug hanging upside down at the end of a long branch rising diagonally upwards on the left: a symbol of Lust. (p. 191)

…a barrel in the boat, a fish dangling from the right branch and a jug hanging upside down at the end of a long branch rising diagonally upwards on the left: a symbol of Lust. (p. 191)

…a barrel in the boat, a fish dangling from the right branch and a jug hanging upside down at the end of a long branch rising diagonally upwards on the left: a symbol of Lust. (pp. 191-192)

The foreground scene at the bottom of the panel treats the theme of Lust in a manner similar to that of the exemplum in The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things. On the bank near the water a man and woman, whose style of dress suggests that they belong to the middle classes, have withdrawn into a furnished, pale red tent for a tête-à-tête. On the ground in front of the tent entrance are wooden clogs, a hat in the Burgundian style on top of a belt, and a section of trumpet. Further items of clothing, probably belonging to the swimmers, are draped over the withered half of an otherwise leafy tree and scattered on the ground nearby. (p. 192)

Here, too, a jug is hooked upside down over a branch. The association of drinking, eating, music-making and lust is one we have already encountered in the Garden of Earthly Delights [Bosch, ca. 1490-1500]. Here, as there, flourishing nature becomes a symbol of the uncurbed human instincts that seek only sensual pleasure. (p. 192)

The left exterior shutter shows the life of excess, and above all lechery, associated with youth… (p. 192)

Various material analyses have proved that this small oak panel, depicting allegories of the deadly sins of Gluttony (gula) and Lust (luxuria) (p. 256)

Various material analyses have proved that this small oak panel, depicting allegories of the deadly sins of Gluttony (gula) and Lust (luxuria) (p. 256)

He explored the connection between vice or evil behaviour and folly or stupidity specifically in such paintings as Extracting the stone of madness [Bosch, ca. 1501-1505], The blind leading the blind (known through an engraving by Pieter van der Heyden) [van der Heyden, ca. 1551-1570] and The Ship of Fools, but it is also present in countless symbolic details in other works. (p. 96)

…work is opposed to idleness, wealth to poverty, thrift to avarice or prodigality. Here Bosch’s position was more moderate: he seems to have condemned the love of gain for its own sake but was even more opposed to extravagance. The poverty of those on the lowest rung of the social ladder was regarded as largely self-inflicted and ascribed to vices from the first two categories – drunkenness, whoring, excessive merrymaking. In contrast, Bosch commended a positive attitude to work and moderation in the spending and acquisition of money and property. All this is reflected in The Haywain [Bosch, ca. 1512-1515]. The Death of the Miser and Scenes of Idleness (known only through sixteenth-century prints). (p. 99)

Bosch also did not ignore the worldly side of the temptation to commit deadly sins. For avarice, he depicted The Death of a Miser on a panel that was surely the shutter of a triptych configuration, viewed obliquely leftwards in terms of its perspective [Marijnissen, 2007, 320-324]. The dying man lies in his bed amidst a cluttered room of stored legal papers with seals, knightly armour and bags of money in locked chests, Demons hover around all of these worldly trophies, and a second standing old figure, despite a rosary at his waist, holds a coin in his hand above a moneybag. One other demon at this last moment still offers the dying old man a moneybag, to which he reaches even now. At the same time, he stares obsessively at the shrouded, skeletal figure of Death in the open doorway, who bears a mortal arrow aimed at him. Consequently both of these conflicting preoccupations preclude the old man from seeing what viewers can – namely, a guardian angel behind him, who attempts to redirect his vision upwards to the window above that doorway, where divine light enters the room across a hanging crucifix. Even at the very last moment, demons and worldly temptations can distract errant humanity into deadly sin, here avarice. Scholars have rightly invoked the fifteenth-century text Ars moriendi (How to die) [Ars moriendi, ca. 1415-1450], where a Christian on his deathbed is tempted to sin by demons but is ultimately consoled and saved by Christ and his angelic forces [Tentler, 2005; Olds, 1966; Ariès, 1981, 107-110]. (p. 129)

Attached to a stick stuck through the roof of the tent is a wreath with a pig’s trotter, signalling yet again that this is a celebration of debauchery [Lammertse, 2017, 301, note 20]. (p. 298)

Two traditions are of importance in interpreting the merrymakers in the boat in particular. First of all, the branches, as well as the cherries on the plank that serves as a makeshift table, clearly show that these people have set out on a pleasure trip. Especially in the spring, highborn youngsters amused themselves by flirting and making music while sailing around in boats decorated with foliage. This happened in real life, but it was also portrayed in numerous book of hours as illustrations of the month of May. Those depictions, however, invariably show elegantly dressed boys and girls, whose polished manners cannot be compared with the debauched doings of Bosch’s figures. Merrymaking monks and nuns never appear in such scenes [Bax, 1949, 194; de Bruyn, 2001, 80-83; Silver, 2006, 243-252; Ilsink et al., 2016, 212] yet they are part of the other tradition from which this painting seems to derive. Revellers in boats or barges who flout the norms and values of society are known from countless sixteenth-century poems, prints and religious processions. Again and again, social norms were ridiculed by displays of dissolute behaviour, by showing how not to do it, by acting out the topsy-turvy world. For those receptive to the message, it was immediately clear where such behaviour would finally lead – to perdition [Pleij, 1979; Lammertse & van der Coelen, 2015, 62]. (p. 298)

The fool in Bosch’s ship stresses the revellers’ folly. (p. 298)

Another figure, possibly the old man’s alter ego, stands at the foot of the bed. With one hand he puts coins into a chest, where a rat-faced creature collects them in a large pot; in the other hand he holds a rosary. Here, too, the scene seems to revolve around religious faith versus material possessions. (p. 298)

The composition recalls illustrations in the Ars moriendi manuals – popular in Bosch’s day- which taught readers the art of dying. A typical illustration in such a book presented a man on his deathbed, with a devil tempting him into choosing material things and an angel pointing out that there is still time to repent and that the dying man’s eternal salvation is much more important than his worldly goods. The Washington panel can be compared to the depiction of a dying man with both a devil and an angel sitting on the headboard of his bed on The Table of the Seven Deadly Sins [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510; Hand & Wolff, 1986; Lammertse & van der Coelen, 2015, 62; Ilsink et al., 2016, 212-215]. (p. 298)

Whereas the left wing seems to depict mainly the sins of gluttony (gula) and lust (luxuria)… (p. 298)

“Whereas the left wing seems to depict mainly the sins of gluttony (gula) and lust (luxuria)… (p. 298)”

… the right wing features avarice (avaritia). (p. 298)

It is possible that the pieces of knightly armour lying in the foreground stand for vainglory or pride (superbia) or alternatively anger (ira). (p. 298)

Remarkably, the underdrawing of the painting in Washington reveals that the dying man had originally accepted the money pouch from the devil and was holding in his other hand a costly goblet. At first, therefore, Bosch had spelled out the old man’s ill-advised decision. Evidently the artist found this too obvious, though, and changed the composition in such a way as to leave his fate up in the air [Hand & Wolff, 1986, 19]. (p. 298)

… the sinful behaviour of the menymakers… (p. 299)

“Whereas the left wing seems to depict mainly the sins of gluttony (gula) and lust (luxuria)… (p. 298)”

… the sinful behaviour of the merrymakers… (p. 299)

… the sinful behaviour of the merrymakers… (p. 299)

… the choices made by the dying man… (p.299)

More depictions of fools were used in imagery, such as Bosch’s Ship of Fools, which, just like Concert in an egg [Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1561], is a vilifying presentation of foolish behaviour, an allegorical scene that satirizes the gluttony of the clergy and rejects exuberance. It was a popular subject at around ,1550-60, of which Hieronymus Cock’s engraving of Musicians in a mussel shell [van der Heyden, 1562] is also an example. (p. 370)

The rejection of enjoyment and lust is expressed in Bosch’s work in themes like the Allegory of Gluttony (and Lechery) and the Ship of Fools (originally together on one panel); Shrove Tuesday, Singers in an Egg [Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1561], Mock Tournament on the Ice [Follower of Pieter Huys, ca. 1560] and Tavern Scene – all of which only survive in the form of copies; the drawings of the Tree-Man [Bosch, ca. 1505] and the Witches [Bosch, 15th century] (who may also represent people celebrating Shrove Tuesday); and the Blue Ship [van der Heyden, 1559] and Merrymakers Sailing in a Mussel Shell [van der Heyden, 1562], which survive in the form of prints… They tell us how human beings fall into such misbehaviour when they fail to resist the blandishments of their senses [Badius, 1502; Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1555-1575]. (p. 123ff)

The rejection of enjoyment and lust is expressed in Bosch’s work in themes like the Allegory of Gluttony (and Lechery) and the Ship of Fools (originally together on one panel); Shrove Tuesday, Singers in an Egg [Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1561, “Concert in the egg”], Mock Tournament on the Ice [Follower of Pieter Huys, ca. 1560, “Grotesque Duel on the Ice”] and Tavern Scene – all of which only survive in the form of copies; the drawings of the Tree-Man [Bosch, ca. 1505, “The Tree man”] and the Witches [Bosch, 15th century, “Sorcières et monstres (Witches and monsters)”] (who may also represent people celebrating Shrove Tuesday); and the Blue Ship [van der Heyden, 1559, “Die Blau Schuyte (Ship of Fools)”] and Merrymakers Sailing in a Mussel Shell [van der Heyden, 1562, “Merrymakers in a mussel shell”], which survive in the form of prints… They tell us how human beings fall into such misbehaviour when they fail to resist the blandishments of their senses [Badius, 1502; Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1555-1575, “Shrovetide and Lent”]. (p. 123ff)

The rejection of enjoyment and lust is expressed in Bosch’s work in themes like the Allegory of Gluttony (and Lechery) and the Ship of Fools (originally together on one panel); Shrove Tuesday, Singers in an Egg [Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1561], Mock Tournament on the Ice [Follower of Pieter Huys, ca. 1560] and Tavern Scene – all of which only survive in the form of copies; the drawings of the Tree-Man [Bosch, ca. 1505] and the Witches [Bosch, 15th century] (who may also represent people celebrating Shrove Tuesday); and the Blue Ship [van der Heyden, 1559] and Merrymakers Sailing in a Mussel Shell [van der Heyden, 1562], which survive in the form of prints… They tell us how human beings fall into such misbehaviour when they fail to resist the blandishments of their senses [Badius, 1502; Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1555-1575]. (p. 123ff)

Bosch champions a quietist attitude: do nor pursue the things of this world – money, possessions and pleasure because the reward will be eternal damnation. A similar idea is expressed in Death and the Usurer… The dying man originally clutched a precious chalice, which was only executed in the underdrawing. The chalice and the money-bags recall a passage from the Middle Dutch ‘Book of God’s Providence’ [Faris, 1914], in which a section with ‘instructive examples’ refers to a rich man who speaks the following words on his deathbed: Fetch my money and see if it can help me, as I hope. The money was duly brought to him and the rich man spoke again: Oh, my money, can ‘t you help me not to die, for you know how much I love you in order to get you, and I took great care of you, wherever I was.’ When his money proves unable to help him, he has ‘all of his jewels and silver dishes’ brought to him. And these cannot save him either, he bites a dish and dies. (p. 136)

Various 15th-century Ars moriendi books ( on the subject of dying and death) describe how the devil encourages dying people to worry about their money. Similar deathbed images occur very frequently in 15th-century Books of Hours, such as the Hours of Catherine of Cleves (which also has a man placing something in or removing something from a treasure-chest in the foreground) [”Deathbed, from The Hours of Catherine of Cleves”, ca. 1440], of Rohan (with Death entering a barrel-vaulted room holding an arrow and coffin) [”Death, from Grandes heures de Rohan”, ca. 1401-1500] and the Hours of Margaret of York (with similarities of composition co Bosch’s scene – the four-poster bed and the striking foreshortening of the barrel-vaulted room) [Follower of Dreux Jean, ca. 1468-1477]. Bosch evidently drew inspiration from a miniature of this type. (p. 136)

The general character of the panel has always been understood – the dying man between the angel (pointing towards the crucifix in the window and the ray of light ic emits), Death (entering the room) and demons. One demon offers him a money-bag, another holds up a document, a third disappears beneath the treasure chest, another sits inside it, a fifth leans its head melancholically on the low wall at the front, while a final demon sits on the canopy of the bed with a brazier. The overall theme is plainly avarice. (p. 136)

The different objects, especially the weapons, proved more difficult to identify. Anne Morganstern has demonstrated in a short but persuasive study that the dying man was a pawnbroker [Morganstern, 1982]… A copy (?) after Bosch – the Seven Deadly Sins in a Globe Shell [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510] illustrates Avaritia by means of a pawnbroker, surrounded by clothes, a sword and coins, who is about to take a belt from an old lady. Consequently, the dying miser is not just guilty of avarice in general, but of the specific sub-form of usury, which in Bosch’s time was considered profoundly wicked. Requiring the payment of interest or the pledging of security was contrary to the teachings of the Church. (pp. 137 -138)

… the pendant of Death and the Usurer as a panel that was sawn in two – the Ship of Fools and the Allegory of Gluttony. Together, the two scenes must have constituted a satire of licentious merrymakers, in which Bosch attacked the opposite of avarice – the intoxication of prodigality. (p. 139)

… the pendant of Death and the Usurer as a panel that was sawn in two – the Ship of Fools and the Allegory of Gluttony. Together, the two scenes must have constituted a satire of licentious merrymakers, in which Bosch attacked the opposite of avarice – the intoxication of prodigality. (p. 139)

A soldier who has leaned his over long lance against the wall fondles a woman in the doorway. (p.56)

Dat de kroeg op het schilderij een verdacht huis is, onthult niet alleen de juffrouw – een kellnerin? —, die in de deur door een landsknecht geknuffeld wordt [Langendijk, 1715, vs. 8; Hildebrand, 1911, 333]… Dat een landsknecht het er eens van nam, zijn speer op zij zette, om een juffer in de bouten te vatten, zal ook in een gewone herberg geen uitzondering geweest zijn. (p. 80-82)

Maar het suspecte karakter van de gelegenheid wordt buiten eiken twijfel gesteld door den mand met den vogel, die naast de deur hangt. Hetzelfde teeken ziet men ook op de schilderijen van Hemessen te Karlsruhe en te Berlijn [Friedländer, 1935, 81; van Hemessen, ca. 1540; Monogrammist, ca. 1530]. Het is mogelijk, dat dit ook in het werkelijke leven het teeken is geweest, waarmede dergelijke huizen zich afficheerden, te vergelijken met het groote huisnummer onzer dagen. Maar dan zit er toch zeker een woordspeling in. In Manken van Nieumeghen insinueert de moeye, dat haar nichtje „yewers in een camer ghemuyt si, daer men sulken tijtkens om een grootken speet”, d.w.z. zulke „kippetjes” voor een gering bedrag aan het spit steekt [Leendertz Jr., 1907, 292]. Hetzelfde beeld „ghemuyt” oftewel gekooid gebruikt Heynken de Luyere, in alle gelegenheden van dit slag thuis, als hij op zoek naar een op het breede pad geraakte „nichte, die schoon van aenschijn was ende van leven lichte” [Crul, 1920, 11]… Ook de duiven, waarvan er een rondvliegt en een ander onder den nok van het huis op til zit, bedoelen aan te duiden, dat in de kroeg gelegenheid tot het plegen van ontucht wordt gegeven; duiven op zolder houden, is tot den huidigen dag een euphemisme voor: een publiek huis houden [Woordenboek der Nederlandsche Taal III, 1912, col. 3561; Harrebomée, 1858, 159] (p. 82)

Wat in het gedicht uitgedrukt wordt door het beeld van den roodgekamden haan, verbeeldt ook wel het dier op het schilderij, dat daar bovenop den mesthoop prijkt [Bisschop & Verwijs, 1870, 173]. (p. 83)

De varkens bij den trog vormen de eenige rechtstreeksche toespeling op het bijbelsche verhaal [English Standard Version Bible, 2001, Luke, 15:16]; zij verbeelden, hoe de zondaar, naar het woord van den dichter, „o wellust, uit uw trog den draf der zwijnen dronk” [Gossaert, 1919, 126]. (p. 83)

La mort de l’avare (p. 70)

Folly herself describes human weakness and stupidity with a delicate irony, often implying that folly, after all, is the natural and note entirely undesirable conidtion of mankind. This tolerant approach is absent in the blunter, more caustic verses of the Ship of Fools. For Brant [Brant, 1944; Brant, 1962], folly is not amusing, but equated with sin and punished in Hell, a harsher attitude which also characterizes Bosch’s castigation of the loose morals of monks and nuns. (p. 44)

… the pendant of Death and the Usurer as a panel that was sawn in two – the Ship of Fools and the Allegory of Gluttony. Together, the two scenes must have constituted a satire of licentious merrymakers, in which Bosch attacked the opposite of avarice – the intoxication of prodigality. (p. 139)

That man persists in his folly even at the moment of death, when the eternities of Heaven and Hell hang in the balance, is the subject of the Death of the Miser. The dying man lies in a high, narrow bedchamber, into which Death has already entered at the left. His guardian angel supports him and attempts to draw his attention to the crucifix in the window above, but he is still distracted by the earthly possessions he must leave behind; one hand reaches out almost automatically to clutch the bag of gold offered by a demon through the curtain. Another demon, delicately winged, leans on the ledge in the foreground, where the rich robes and knightly equipment probably allude to the worldly rank and power which the miser must also abandon. The battle of angels and devils for the soul of the dying man occurs also in the Prado Tabletop (where the traditional figure of Death armed with an arrow likewise appears), and both scenes reflect a popular fifteenth-century devotional work [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510], the Ars moriendi or Craft of Dying [Ars moriendi, ca. 1415-1450], which was printed many times in Germany and the Netherlands. (p. 46)

…the issue of the struggle is far from certain. An opened money chest can be seen at the foot of the bed, where an elderly man, perhaps the miser shown a second time, places a gold piece into a bag held by a demon. He seems little concerned with the rosary hanging from his waist. In representing the money chest so prominently, Bosch may have been thinking of the passage in Matthew 6:21, ‘For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also’ [English Standard Version Bible, 2001, Matthew, 6:21], and of the quaint’ but edifying legend, common in medieval sermons, of the miser who dies unrepentant and whose heart is found buried in his strong-box. (p. 47)

… Ship of Fools… provides a mirror wherein we may see reflected the folly of man. (p. 86)

… The Death of the Miser… provides a mirror wherein we may see reflected the folly of man. (p. 86)

Cuttler found in the foreground objects a veiled disparagement of knights and chivalry, similar to that found in Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff [Brant, 1944; Brant, 1962], and viewed the entire painting as a satire on the greed of false knights [Cuttler, 1969, 275]. (p. 18)

That man persists in his folly even at the moment of death, when the eternities of Heaven and Hell hang in the balance, is the subject of the Death of the Miser. The dying man lies in a high, narrow bedchamber, into which Death has already entered at the left. His guardian angel supports him and attempts to draw his attention to the crucifix in the window above, but he is still distracted by the earthly possessions he must leave behind; one hand reaches out almost automatically to clutch the bag of gold offered by a demon through the curtain. Another demon, delicately winged, leans on the ledge in the foreground, where the rich robes and knightly equipment probably allude to the worldly rank and power which the miser must also abandon. The battle of angels and devils for the soul of the dying man occurs also in the Prado Tabletop (where the traditional figure of Death armed with an arrow likewise appears), and both scenes reflect a popular fifteenth-century devotional work [Bosch, ca. 1505-1510], the Ars moriendi or Craft of Dying [Ars moriendi, ca. 1415-1450], which was printed many times in Germany and the Netherlands. (p. 32)

…the issue of the struggle is far from certain. An opened money chest can be seen at the foot of the bed, where an elderly man, perhaps the miser shown a second time, places a gold piece into a bag held by a demon. He seems little concerned with the rosary hanging from his waist. (p. 32)

…the dying man and the one rummaging in his strongbox are one and the same person, in either guise, oscillates between sanctimoniousness and avarice without noticing the bloated monsters lurking in every corner (pp. 18-19)

Certainly the monk and nun make up the central focus of an overtly satirical picture. It remains unclear if they are singing to each other or, with others of their silly company, are bobbing at the cake dangling between them. Whichever it may be, nothing here is to be taken as realistica. Everything becomes a sign alluding to something else: the swimmers, the fool on the mast, the man losing his dinner overboard, the one who crawls about in the bottom of the boat with a huge jug on a cord and over whom a woman is leaning-none of them can be taken as literal and real. (p. 66)

Is the subject gluttony or lunacy? Certainly the small handful of cherries is more likely to exasperate the already desperate desire of these madmen than to satisfy their stomachs, as Cinotti [Cinotti, 1966] points out. (p. 66)

That even this highly eccentric-seeming Ship of Fools has to do with some activity connected with either the deadly sins or the seasons is suggested by an exploration of the new iconography of the Months introduced at the end of the fourteenth century. As Pächt shows, depictions of the activities of each month had been done mostly in the form of wall paintings until the fifteenth century, when they began to appear in manuscript miniatures [Pächt, 1948]. There are Books of Hours from the time when Bosch began his career in which, as Cuttler found, the month of May was generally illustrated with a boating party [Cuttler, 1969]. From the same period there are also pictures of groups of monks in boats, and since the devils always busy themselves with such lusty companies, these would appear to be meant as disreputable. It is a safe assumption that, in Bosch’s time, such an association of boat trips with sinful monks was widespread. Nevertheless much remains to be explained here, especially since in another source one finds a monk and nun cooperating (or worse) in some blasphemous action. In which case the cake suspended from above would be the host and the board between the two an altar table set with chalice and paten. Yet there are others in the picture, and their only message seems to be that “where ignorance is bliss, ‘Tis folly to be wise.” (p. 66)

The panel may have been part of a diptych or triptych dedicated to the theme of folly [Demonts, 1919; de Tolnay, 1937]: represented here is the rudderless boat drifting perhaps towards fools’ paradise, Brant’s Narragonia [Brant, 1944; Brant, 1962]; Helene Adhémar [Adhémar, 1962] thinks it is the Ship of the Church, and on the point of being wrecked. Attempts have been made to interpret the painting in a psychoanalytic key by identifying the erotic symbols [Solier, 1961]; but the various elements are better explained in the climate of the period, as a satire on one of the seven sins or of the five senses. Represented here are ‘Gula’ and ‘Luxuria’; most of the characters are intent on food and drink- one has had too much and is vomiting over the boat’s side. (p. 93)

Ira’ is also shown, in the detail of the woman threatening the man on the left. (p. 93)

Bosch’s other versions of the theme, now lost: among them the engravings by P. van der Heyden published by Cock at Antwerp, one in 1559 [van der Heyden, 1559], with the inscription die blau Schuyte, the other in 1562 [van der Heyden, 1562], wherein the boat is an open mollusc valve, an obvious erotic reference; both show the score of a song being sung, in accordance with an inspiration traceable to The Concert [Follower of Jheronimus Bosch, ca. 1561], where the egg also conveys an erotic meaning. (p. 93)

… was first published by Tolnay [de Tolnay, 1937], who suggested it might depict an episode concerning the Prodigal Son… Adhémar… believed it to have been a whole symbolising May or Spring) [Adhémar, 1962; Bosch, ca. 1475-1500, “La Nef des fous (The Ship of Fools)”]… Baldass believed it, instead, to be part of a panel illustrating the Deadly Sins [Baldass, 1959]. Bax (1949) viewed it as the summer feast of a merry party, and interpreted the various objects as symbols of forbidden love. The fragment depicts in a lively style akin to that of The Ship of Fools [Bosch, ca. 1475-1500, “La Nef des fous (The Ship of Fools)”] and with a delightful lightness of touch, Lust (a couple of lovers under a tent) and Gluttony, in the shape of a sort of Flemish Silenus [Seymour, 1961] bestriding a floating cask from which wine spills: this figure inspired the ‘Carnival’ of Bruegel’s Carnival and Lent in Vienna [Bruegel, 1559, “The Fight between Carnival and Lent”]. (p. 93)

… was first published by Tolnay [de Tolnay, 1937], who suggested it might depict an episode concerning the Prodigal Son… Adhémar… believed it to have been a whole symbolising May or Spring) [Adhémar, 1962; Bosch, ca. 1475-1500]… Baldass believed it, instead, to be part of a panel illustrating the Deadly Sins [Baldass, 1959]. Bax (1949) viewed it as the summer feast of a merry party, and interpreted the various objects as symbols of forbidden love. The fragment depicts in a lively style akin to that of The Ship of Fools [Bosch, ca. 1475-1500] and with a delightful lightness of touch, Lust (a couple of lovers under a tent) and Gluttony, in the shape of a sort of Flemish Silenus [Seymour, 1961] bestriding a floating cask from which wine spills: this figure inspired the ‘Carnival’ of Bruegel’s Carnival and Lent in Vienna [Bruegel, 1559 (The Fight between Carnival and Lent)]. (p. 93)

Bosch did not just take influences from Leonardo. He also gave some back. There is a good likelihood that the Italian artist based his undated drawing at Windsor called Allegory with a Wolf and Eagle [da Vinci, ca. 1591-1624] on an early version of Bosch’s frequently depicted Ship of Fools. In the painting at the Louvre, which is the best known best example of Bosch’s depictions of the Ship of Fools, the gluttonous and lustful figures ride on a boat which has a tree for a mast. Leonardo’s wolflike creature, which represent humanity;s animal side, rides on a similar boat. Leonardo’s version of the scene is more optimistic than Bosch’s, however. Bosch’s fools are determinedly unaware, but Leonardo’s animal steers its way by an eagle, a symbol of the higher self. (p. 79)

…the treasure chest into which a gaunt, housebound old man, leaning on his stick and smiling a wornout smile, drops the guilder he has managed to save. This touching figure might have stepped straight from the pages of Jacob Grimm’s Rede über das Alter where Grimm, then an old man of seventy-five himself expatiates soberly on the vexations of avaritia senilis, the avarice of old age [Grimm, 1911, 137]. Despite its austere economy the figure is boldly drawn; all the signs of decrepitude have been intimately experienced: the sunken temples, the toothless mouth and the already Hippocratic nose the exaggeratedly careful movement of the hand, and the shuffling, crooked stance. This old man is a pictorial rendering of the “vain show” of the Psalmist: “Surely every man walketh in a vain show; surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them” [English Standard Version Bible, 2001, Psalm, 39:6]. (pp. 298-299)

What is funny at one point in time may not be regarded as remotely amusing at another. When Jheronimus Bosch painted a monk having fun with a nun in The Ship of Fools, most viewers would have seen the joke. Idling, merrymaking friars and lovesick pastors were among the stock characters in fiftheenth-century anecdotes, poems and farces. (p. 49)

The illustrations show that the link between music, love, folly, spring and May boats was a relatively common one. The boat decorated with branches and the musicians we find in Bosch’s Ship of Fools mean we need to take this aspect into account when interpreting the painting, which also shows someone playing the lute. In the May boat image, the lute no doubt represents the harmony of the music itself and between the lady who plays the instrument and her lover. The nun and the monk in the Ship of Fools also sing along to the strains of the lute – less mellifluously, we imagine – but here the allusion can only be to indecency. (p. 328)

A reprint of a sixteenth-century engraving which, according to an inscription, was made after an invention by Bosch, states above the image where a boat like this, full of good-for-nothings, is headed. The boat is named the Blau Schuyte (‘blue barge’), referring to a tradition of worldturned- upside-down festivities and literature; as if that were not enough, inscriptions in Latin, French and Dutch specify that the boat is heading ad perditionem (to perdition) [van Oestvoren, 1413; Pleij, 1983; Bass & Wyckoff, 2015, 158-163; Ilsink, 2013, 250-251].Many viewers of the Ship of Fools will also have made the association, lastly, with the story of the satirical ‘Sint Reynuut’ and his boat [van Leyden, ca. 1520-1530]. Reynuut – a contraction of the words rein uit, meaning wholly empty – is a fictional saint, the patron of all those whose drunkenness leaves them destitute. His shrine is located on the island of the same name, to which he sails on his ship the Quat Regement (Bad Government). The drunkards in Bosch’s painting are certainly devoted to this saint. Sebastian Brant pithily sums up the moral of all these images in his Ship of Fools: ‘Who takes his place on the ship of fools sails laughing and singing to hell.’ [Brant, 1500, fol. p. iiii, cap. 109] (p. 328)

The figure that is a both an apt translation of the text and a subtle tribute to Brant’s supplementary woodcut is Bosch’s image of the gluttonous man. This man reflects the qualities Brant describes in his chapter “Gluttony and Feasting,” where he addresses the issue of consuming wine in excess [Brant, 2011, 97]… The resulting character is not simply a glutton, but is commonly understood as an allegory of Gluttony itself [Morganstern, 1984, 300]. Here, Gluttony appears as an overweight man who is observably “round and staunch,” yet must be deduced to be one who “neglects his friends” through his expressed ignorance to those swimming beneath him. In a subtle dissonance of word against image, Gluttony recalls the “silly swine” through his pink garments and pig-like facial structure, yet fails to embody the literal visual translation for Brant’s line of text as he is not an actual swine [Brant, 2011, 97]. In further referential detail, Gluttony rides aboard a leaking barrel in a sea of wine, honoring Brant’s earlier description of the “wise man” Noah. Conversely to the sober Noah, this gluttonous man is entirely obedient to wine’s wiles, and is slowly sinking to his death in the very thing he desires, unable to navigate the wine-filled “ocean deep” [ [Brant, 2011, 97]]. In the hands of Bosch as mediator, Gluttony is at the complex intersection of a well-divined metaphor and a veritably human fool, the latter expected by the viewer, having read Brant. (pp. 29-30)

…in the case of Bosch’s singing group, the major depicted details are drawn primarily from Brant’s woodcuts. This detail, making up the center of the painting, portrays a group of singers: mouths open, instruments poised, gazes falling on the pancake that hangs between them. Amongst this group, the two identifiable characters are the monk and nun sitting in the front—each recognizable by their traditional garments. This formulation of characters, of a group singing in a circular formation, is taken directly from the composition of the woodcut that accompanies Brant’s chapter “Of Serenading at Night” [Dürer, 1494 (Of Serenading at Night)]… Bosch’s group serenades in complete ignorance to their surroundings and Bosch’s furthest left singer bears the very same guitar… Bosch’s portrayal of the singers can be condensed to a primary compositional reference to a woodcut from The Ship of Fools, and only a singular line of text [Brant, 2011, 206, 207]. (p. 33)

The third figure representation at the inn is a man relieving himself. This figure is not represented inside the building as are the others, but appears outside. It seems to be similar to them also in its meaning and it, too, may refer to what the peddler has done in the activity of his does not seem to be a professional one in the the word but rather a typical vice which is characteristic connected with the profession of a peddler. A figure relieving himself frequently occurs in art in drinking [Philip, 1958, 19:note 39-40, 70:note 147; Lafond, 1914, 86-87; Hollstein, 1949, VI, 22; du Hameel, ca. 1478-1506; Donatello, ca. 1457-1464; Titian, 1518; Michelangelo, 1533]. Surely the peddler had had his share of drinks Many of his attributes point to this, and even the wound the result of a fall during drunkenness. That the peddler also been assumed by Bax [Philip, 1958, 70:note 148; Bax, 1949, 224f.; Hauber, 1916, 75; Panofsky, Giehlow & Saxl, 1923, 27]. It is again in this characterization ard that the figure corresponds to the conjurer [Bosch, ca. 1475], for distinctly characterized as a glutton [Philip, 1958, 34:note 66]. (pp. 69-70)

In der Ausgestaltung des «Narrenschiff» von Bosch findet sich einigesbei Brant wieder. Zum Beispiel im ersten Titelblatt von 1494 [Dürer, 1494 (Frontispiece of Daß Narrenschyff ad Narragoniam)], sind die Elemente Musik, Wimpel und Zaungäste vergleichbar. Andere Gemeinsamkeiten ergeben sich mit dem Titelblatt der lateinischen Ausgabe Basel 1497 [Brant, 1498 (Frontispiece)]: eine ähnliche Anzahl von Personen, ein trinkender Mönch sowie einige Gesten, wie die erhobenen Arme und das Über-dieReling-Hängen. Die weiblichen Passagiere kann Bosch in einer Pariser «Narrenschiff»-Ausgabe von 1500 gefunden haben, in den «Stultiferae naves» des Humanisten und Verlegers Jodocus Badius [Badius, 1500; Renouard, 1964, 197-213, 2, Nr. C 1, 77f.; Universitätsbibliothek Basel & Universitätsbibliothek Freiburg im Breisgau, 1994, Nr. 110, 206f.]. Hier zeigen die Illustrationen Närrinnen auf Booten. Sie sind Allegorien der «Fünf Sinne», angeleitet von Eva als Ursünderin. Das «Eva»-Boot hat mit Boschs Bild den laubgeschmückten Mast gemeinsam, einen Paradiesbaum mit Schlange. Das «Geschmacks»-Boot («Scapha gustationis stultae») hat mit Boschs Schiff den Wimpel und die ähnliche Bootsform gemeinsam [Scaha gustationis sultae, 1500]. Auch die Gesten der Narren und Närrinnen entsprechen sich, insbesonderewenn man den Holzschnitt spiegelverkehrt betrachtet: Ein närrischer Passagier speist selbstzufrieden, ein anderer, offensichtlich betrunken, legtsich schlafen, eine Närrin verlangt mit erhobener Hand Wein, zwei anderesitzen sich am gedeckten Tisch gegenüber, und in der Mitte erhebt eine Närrin voll Freude ihr Glas. Bosch geht aber über diese Vorlage hinaus und nimmt noch Elemente aus der Maifeier hinzu, die er parodistisch abwandelt. (p. 163)

Mit den «Müßiggängerschiffen» (heißen sie nun «Narrenschiff»,«Leichtschiff», «Schluraffen Schiff», «Sint Reynuut» oder «Blauwe Schuit»)sollen die Müßiggänger satirisiert werden, die sich von der übrigen Gesellschaftabsondern. Das «Narrenschiff» wurde hauptsächlich gegen die Müßiggänger aufgerichtet. Die Passagiere dieser Fahrzeuge streben ein irdisches Paradies an, sie leben ms «Blaue» hinem [Leeber, 1939-1940; Enklaar, 1937, 35-85; Enklaar, 1940, 111], achten Jedoch nicht aufden «gemeinen Nutz» (res publica) und vergessen vor allem das Himmelreich. Sie ahnen nicht, daß die dünne Schale ihres Gefährtes sie nur wenigeZentimeter vom Tode trennt. Ihr sinnliches Treiben 1st Selbstbetrug, da ihr Ende naht. Diese – nach Meinung der Humanisten um 1500 – gottlosen Prasser und Schlemmer segeln ohne Steuer und Kompaß auf dem «Meerder Welt» ihrem sicheren Untergang entgegen. Die «Müßiggängerschiffe» sollen in satirisch-didaktischer Absicht sowohl vor dem persönlichenSchiffbruch wie vor dem «Schiffbruch» der Gemeinschaft und des Staateswarnen. Sie enthalten ein Gleichnis für «jedermann», um sich selbst zu erkennenund Maß zu halten. Diesem Impetus folgt auch Boschs «Narrenschiffo,das zu einem Laster-Triptychon gehört, das vor gefährlicher Armutund übertriebenem Reichtum warnen will. (pp. 167-168)

Das “Narrenschiff” schildert ein sehr “irdisches Paradies” mit allen Elementen der Ausschweifung und deutlichen Hinweisen auf närrisches und gottloses Treiben. (p. 182)

… Ship of Fools might well carry a humorous critique of folly along with a sterner moral indictment… (p. 29)

The Allegory of Gluttony… might well carry a humorous critique of folly along with a sterner moral indictment… (p. 29)

The Allegory of Gluttony… might well carry a humorous critique of folly along with a sterner moral indictment… (p. 29)

Equally ominous is the owl nestled amidst the top branches of the tree. We have already met Bosch’s use of the owl in his Garden of Earthly Delights [Bosch, ca. 1490-1500], even within the settng of Eden [Vandenbroeck, 1985]. This nocturnal animal consistently brings the negative connotation of darkness to its settings to suggest folly or even evil. (p. 252)