Figure 5.1 Antwerp Passion Altarpiece, c.1525, Saint Victor’s Cathedral, Xanten
(Photo: Ulrich Schäfer)
In addition to its use in southern German retables, the Tree of Jesse motif can be found in a large number of Antwerp carved altarpieces of the early sixteenth century, yet this has never been investigated as part of an iconographical study.1 In order to try to establish why the theme became such a speciality of some southern Netherlandish workshops, this chapter will adopt a slightly different approach to the earlier ones. It will begin with a brief consideration of the nature of the Antwerp art market, followed by an examination of how the Tree of Jesse was typically employed by carvers. It will then focus on three works: the Pailhe, Bocholt and Gifhorn altarpieces, which all feature the subject at the centre of the caisse. Although the Bocholt retable was exhibited as part of the 1993 Antwerp Altarpiece Exhibition, and the Pailhe retable was the subject of an article by Ria de Boodt in 1996, there is little other recent literature regarding these works, and they have never been considered in relation to their specific subject matter.2 Previous scholarship has tended to assume that, in order to speed up production, there was a great degree of standardisation between Antwerp altarpieces. A detailed analysis of these works will try to ascertain to what extent this hypothesis might be true, proposing, at least with regard to these particular examples, that this theory may be overly reductive.
The function of Tree of Jesse iconography in Antwerp altarpieces will then be considered in light of contemporary theological concerns, particularly the Lutheran doctrine of the Theology of the Cross. It will be argued that Luther’s teachings must have had an impact on many of the iconographic choices made by patrons sympathetic to his ideas, both at home and abroad. In addition, the possibility of a link between Antwerp Tree of Jesse altarpieces and the Advent liturgy will also be explored. It is hoped that the examination of physical and iconographic evidence, presented in this chapter, will contribute to the debate regarding the production, patronage and function of Antwerp altarpieces.
Decline in the demand for cloth from the southern Netherlands in the fourteenth century forced many towns to diversify and, by the early fifteenth century, the cities of Brabant had developed as major centres of the manufacture, sale and distribution of luxury goods, including carved altarpieces.3 Initially, the carved altarpiece industry was dominated by Brussels, although this was to change with the growth of Antwerp’s economy.4 Encouraged to a great extent by the large number of foreign merchants who visited the city to attend its biannual trade fairs, by the 1470s Antwerp had become a significant centre of production.5 Works of art were sold at the specialised public art market, Our Lady’s Pand, a purpose-built building in the grounds of the church of Our Lady. From 1484, a municipal decree was issued that prohibited the sale of art during the fairs at any other location.6 The Pand made it easy for clients to purchase small and easily transportable objects on spec, and it seems that merchants or dealers may have frequently bought works in quantity for resale.7 Larger works, such as carved wooden altarpieces, could also be purchased at the Pand and, in addition to local demand, it appears that customers may have travelled some distance. This is evident from the widespread distribution of surviving altarpieces, which can be found predominantly in Germany, particularly in the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, but also as far afield as Sweden, Denmark and Poland, reaching their destinations via the internal waterways and roads that linked up with the major shipping routes.8
The introduction of the Antwerp open hand carver’s mark as a visible sign of authenticity and quality was first introduced in 1470, and can be found branded onto the heads of some of the figures in the caisse, or onto the base of some of the carved sections. A further stamp, the municipal coat of arms, which is comprised of a castle with two small hands above it, was stamped on to the side of the caisse as a guarantee for the polychromy of the finished work. To date, one hundred and seventy-nine surviving Antwerp altarpieces have been identified, and these marks have proved invaluable in establishing the provenance of the vast majority of works.9 Although these retables only represent a fraction of the original output, a very high percentage (22%) have, or had, some kind of representation of the Tree of Jesse in their carved caisse (Appendix 2.1). This is clearly significant, as by comparison a catalogue of sixty-eight Brussels altarpieces does not feature a single example of a carved Tree of Jesse.10 This discrepancy may be partly explained by the more formulaic structure of Antwerp altarpieces. Like the Brussels retables, the Antwerp caisse was usually divided into three vertical bays of virtually equal width, the central bay usually a third, or sometimes a half, taller than those flanking it. However, unlike the majority of Brussels altarpieces, it became fashionable, in the course of the sixteenth century, for the Antwerp caisse to be divided again on a horizontal access, creating a minimum of six compartments. The compartments on the side bays are of approximately equal height, yet the subdivision of the central bay usually creates a narrower lower compartment beneath a much taller upper compartment. This arrangement suited the vertical nature of the Tree of Jesse motif, where Jesse is commonly depicted in the compartment of the lower register, with the branches of the tree acting as a framing device for the principal subject in the upper register. In this way the carver could link the subjects of the lower and upper caisse, while the motif’s decorative qualities provided a complex and visually pleasing effect. There is an obvious affinity between the Tree of Jesse and its depiction in carved wood and, although technically complex, the organic nature of the subject lends itself to this three dimensional medium. The carver is therefore given the opportunity to display his skill, not only enhancing the appearance of the work, but also adding to its meaning.
Approximately one third of surviving Tree of Jesse Antwerp altarpieces have imagery focused on the Virgin, with a single retable devoted to Saint Anne.11 The large majority of remaining works depict scenes from the Passion in the upper register, as can be seen in the altarpiece in Saint Victor’s Cathedral, Xanten (Figure 5.1). The most common arrangement is for the left compartment to contain the Way to Calvary, with Christ carrying his Cross, the centre to contain the Crucifixion,
Figure 5.1 Antwerp Passion Altarpiece, c.1525, Saint Victor’s Cathedral, Xanten
(Photo: Ulrich Schäfer)
and the right compartment to feature the Deposition and/or the Lamentation. Jesse is depicted in the lower register and the branches of the tree, which support the royal ancestors of Christ, rise up either side of the Crucifixion. This visual connection between the Tree of Jesse, the sufferings of Christ and the Cross had its theological roots in the writings of Peter Damian, the eleventh-century monastic leader and a Doctor of the Church. Damian introduced his homily De exaltatione Sanctae Crucis, with the maxim ‘De virga Jesse devenimus ad virgam crucis, et principium redemptionis fine concludimus’ (Out of the ‘virga’ of Jesse we came to the ‘virgam’ of the cross and the beginning of redemption was the conclusion). Damian saw the rod of Jesse as the beginning of the story of salvation, leading to man’s redemption through the rod of the Cross.12 This association underlines the messianic nature of Isaiah’s prophecy and reaffirms the link between the Incarnation and Redemption; yet it seems that visual representations of the Tree of Jesse with the Crucifixion were scarce before the fifteenth century. A rare example can be found in a Speculum humanae salvationis, dated 1330, from the Benedictine Abbey of Kremsmünster in upper Austria, (Codex Cremefanensis 243, fol.55r) (Figure 5.2).13 Fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century examples however can often be found on Netherlandish and German liturgical vestments, where the Tree of Jesse was embroidered onto the cross on the back of a chasuble (Figure 5.3).14 The chasuble is the outer garment worn by the priest during the celebration of the Mass, when his back is towards the congregation. The function of this iconography was, therefore, not only to act as a reminder of the Crucifixion, which is re-enacted in the bloodless sacrament of the Mass, but also to encapsulate the whole story of salvation in a single image.
Due to the nature of the Antwerp art market during the early sixteenth century, much of the recent literature has assumed a certain degree of standardisation between carved altarpieces. It is argued that to meet demand, great efforts were made to rationalise production, with the increased use of standard sizes and models, and the division of labour within workshops based on specialisation.15 Furthermore, it has been suggested that a standardisation of subject matter also occurred, ensuring that any altarpiece could be suitable for any altar, wherever its location, so easy to sell ready-made on the open market.16 Lynn Jacobs has even gone as far as to suggest that more than 70% of full-sized Netherlandish altarpieces were produced without a specific buyer in mind and sold in this way.17 The prevalence of Tree of Jesse iconography in Antwerp altar-pieces could be seen to support this argument, as the use of the motif with the Passion, or Life of the Virgin, makes coherent iconographic sense. In addition, representations tend to follow a similar format, with Jesse seated under a tent-shaped canopy, surrounded by prophets and the tree, which supports twelve kings, crowned by the Virgin and Child.18 It could be considered likely, therefore, that different workshops were following some sort of common model. However, even though iconographic programmes that include the Passion or Life of the Virgin, combined with the Tree of Jesse, would have been universally popular themes and in great demand, none of this necessarily precludes the personal involvement of a patron in the choice and treatment of the subject matter for their particular altarpiece. To assume that the vast majority of these large and expensive
Figure 5.2 Speculum humanae salvationis, 1330, Benedictine Abbey of Kremsmünster
Stiftsbibliothek Kremsmünster, Austria, CC 243, fol.55r
works were created on a completely non-commissioned basis, for sale on the mass market, seems rather implausible.19
Figure 5.3 Chasuble, Italy (Velvet), Flanders (Embroidered Orphrey), Fifteenth Century
© RMN-Grand Palais (Musée de Cluny—Musée national du Moyen Âge)/Gérard Blot
Although Tree of Jesse iconography was usually restricted to the lower register, a detailed comparison of three surviving altarpieces, which feature the subject in the centre of the caisse, provides an opportunity to consider in some detail exactly how much standardisation there was between works. While ostensibly similar in subject matter, an examination of their secondary iconography also allows us to evaluate to what extent their patrons may have been involved in the final appearance of these altarpieces.
The Gifhorn Altarpiece was acquired by the Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum in Hannover in 1955 (Figure 5.4). The Bocholt Altarpiece is currently in the church of Saint Laurence, Bocholt in Belgium (Figure 5.5), whilst the Pailhe Altarpiece was bought in the mid-nineteenth century by the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium (Figure 5.6). The condition of each of the altarpieces is varied. Pailhe is the work best conserved in its original state, although it has been restored on three separate occasions.20 Bocholt underwent extensive restoration in 1903–5, which involved replacing thirteen of the carved figures, and several of the other decorative details also received treatment.21 When the Gifhorn altarpiece was described by Hector Wilhelm Mithoff in 1877, it is clear that it was already missing many of its carved figures.22 In addition, much of the architectural decoration has been lost, and parts of the caisse have been replaced, although it does seem that the remaining polychromy and gilding are, on the whole, original.23
All three retables retain primary evidence of their Antwerp origin, although the Pailhe and Bocholt altarpieces are more comprehensively marked than the Gif-horn work. The Antwerp open hand carver’s mark, made with seven different tools, has been found on seventy-five of the eighty-four carved sections of the Pailhe altarpiece, the majority clearly visible on the heads of the figures.24 Fur thermore, the municipal coat of arms (a double hand and castle) can also be found on the exterior left-hand side of the caisse, establishing beyond doubt its Antwerp provenance. The origin of the Bocholt altarpiece is also incontrovertible: the double hand and castle has been preserved on the back of the restored wooden facing, and the Antwerp open hand can be observed on seven of the carved sculptural groups. The origin of the Gifhorn altarpiece is slightly more problematic: although the municipal coat of arms has been identified on the frame, no marks can be observed on any of the remaining carved figures.25 Nevertheless, it is generally accepted on stylistic grounds that these too are of Antwerp origin and original to the work.
Figure 5.4 The Gifhorn Antwerp Altarpiece, c.1510–20
(Size of Caisse: 193 × 187 cm) © Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover (Photo: Susan Green)
Establishing the first owners of these retables is less straightforward. Prior to being acquired by the Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum in Hannover, the Gifhorn altarpiece had been in the possession of the Welfen family, who themselves had acquired it from the estate of Castle Gifhorn in c.1863.26 It is extremely unlikely, however, that the altarpiece was originally purchased for Gifhorn, as a fire in 1519, which burnt much of the castle and estate, would have also almost certainly destroyed it.27 In addition, the chapel to the castle was not built until c.1547. Consequently, it is more likely that the altarpiece was acquired for another location and moved to Gifhorn sometime after this date. Even so, it does seem possible that the altarpiece was originally obtained for a German church or chapel, as more than a third of all surviving Antwerp altarpieces can still be found in Germany, with the
Figure 5.5 The Bocholt Antwerp Altarpiece, c.1525–30, Church of Saint Laurence, Bocholt, Belgium
(Size of Caisse: 276 × 246 × 36 cm) (Photo: © KIK-IRPA, Brussels)
majority of Tree of Jesse altarpieces found in the region between the Rhine and the Meuse, particularly along the route to Cologne, with another large cluster in the Julich area.28
Figure 5.6 The Pailhe Antwerp Altarpiece, c.1510–30
(Size of Caisse: 260 × 239 × 28 cm) Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium, Brussels (Photo: © KIK-IRPA, Brussels)
The earliest piece of documentary evidence for the Bocholt altarpiece dates from 1864, when it was recorded in the Loozen Chapel, now the Velthoven Chapel, in the town of Bocholt in the north of Belgium, not far from the German border.29 It is believed that before this it belonged to the town’s main parish church, Saint Laurence, but that it was removed in the eighteenth century, when the church was re-fitted with a new Baroque altar and choir.30 Even though the painted wings do depict Saint Laurence, it seems they are not original to the work, but are made up of five painted panels, also from the Loozen Chapel, which were added, along with a neo-Gothic predella, by Pierre Peeters during restoration in 1903–5.31 It is believed that these panels must have originally belonged to another, larger retable, which was dedicated to the patron saint of the parish and probably stood on the main altar.32 If this was the case, then the Bocholt altarpiece may have resided on one of the side altars in the church. It was moved back to Saint Laurence after its restoration in 1905.
Although now in the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium in Brussels, the Pailhe altarpiece was in the church of the Assumption of Our Lady in Pailhe, in the province of Liege, until the mid-nineteenth century.33 Considered unsuitable to decorate the altar of the new parish church, which was built in the neoclassical style, it was sold to the museum in 1849. Even though the Pailhe altarpiece features scenes from the Life of the Virgin and decorated the high altar of a church dedicated to the Virgin, this does not necessarily mean that it was originally acquired with this church in mind, and it may have been moved to Pailhe from another location sometime after its acquisition.34
Scale could give some indication of the original location of these altarpieces. However, although Gifhorn, at 193 × 187 cm, is slightly smaller than either the Bocholt or Pailhe altarpieces, which measure 276 × 246 cm and 260 × 239 cm respectively, all three are medium sized works that could have been placed on either the high altar of a small parish church or private chapel or, alternatively, on the side altar of a much larger church. The retables would have also originally been furnished with painted wings and a predella, which would have expanded their iconographic programmes. Unfortunately, all three works have lost their original predellas and Gifhorn is the only altarpiece to retain its original wings.35 As a result, any further evidence that could have been useful in identifying the original owners or location of the works, such as coats of arms or inscriptions, is now lost.
The dating of these altarpieces is associated to a great extent with their shape and format. Gifhorn is of a traditional inverted T-shape and its elevated centre, approximately half as high again as the side sections, provides additional vertical space for the main sculptural theme. The caisse has been divided vertically to create three bays of approximately equal width, and the central compartment has been divided again, in the lower part, to create three separate niches. Although no dendrochronological analysis is available, this format and the style of dress on the painted wing panels support the accepted date of c.1510–20.
While still maintaining the basic T structure, the shape of carved altarpieces changed slightly from c.1515, with the application of decorative mouldings to the upper edge of the caisse. The curving profile of Bocholt, with its series of three ogee arches coming to a point at the top of the upper compartment, demonstrates this development. Like Gifhorn, the caisse was divided vertically into three bays; however, as was increasingly popular, all three bays were then divided again to create six compartments in total, the two central compartments being both higher and wider than the two side ones. Dendrochronological analysis confirms that the tree was felled in c.1517 and, although we have no information regarding the time elapsed between the felling and completion of the carving, evidence from the study of other altarpieces suggests that it was not unusual for this to take up to ten years.36 Despite the elaborate oriental costumes of many of the figures, their poses remain static and conventional, demonstrating none of the excesses typical of Antwerp mannerism. As this trend reached its peak just after c.1530, it appears that a date of c.1525–30 is relatively accurate for the Bocholt work, and in line with other altarpieces of a similar shape.
The shape of the Pailhe altarpiece is similar to that of Bocholt, although the raised central section has a semi-circular crown, rather than a pointed moulding, on its upper edge.37 Once again, the caisse has been divided vertically into three bays, but, instead of these bays being divided horizontally to create six compartments, the central compartment has been divided again, so that there are in fact seven compartments in total. Pailhe has been dated to c.1510–30, although it has been suggested that this particular altarpiece shape did not come into fashion until the 1530s, which would place it towards the end of this period.38 In addition, as Borch-grave d’Altena observed, Pailhe expresses many elements of the ‘new manner’.39 Several of the carved figures, such as the shepherds on either side of the Nativity, and the figure to the right of the priest in the Circumcision, display the characteristic exaggerations associated with Antwerp Mannerism in the 1530s, although other figures appear more traditional. It seems likely then that the Pailhe altarpiece is a work of the early 1530s.40 Consequently, even though only the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe altarpieces survive today, it seems that the use of Tree of Jesse iconography as the principal subject of an Antwerp altarpiece may have remained fashionable for a period of at least ten to twenty years. Further evidence for the popularity of this arrangement is provided by the existence of several other Antwerp Jesse fragments of a similar date, whose size suggests that they also once came from the centre of a carved altarpiece caisse.41
Despite their different production dates, the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe altar-pieces share several physical characteristics.42 For example, the compartments of each altarpiece have been similarly constructed, with steeply inclined floors and walls tilted inwards to give the impression of a realistic physical space. All have significant architectural decoration and employ specific decorative techniques. For instance, while the dominant colour inside each of the caisses is gold, the use of sgraffito engraving, in red and blue, has been used to provide elaborate borders to the draperies of the carved figures.43 Paint has also been used for some details and to indicate the undersides of the fabrics, as well as flesh tones and facial features. In all three altarpieces, however, it is only the male figures that have been individualised; the women tend to have rather doll-like faces, with arched eyebrows, sharp noses and receding chins.44
While some of the similarities in scale and technique that can be observed from a physical examination of the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe altarpieces may be indicative of a certain amount of standardisation among Antwerp carvers and polychromists in the early sixteenth century, they do not provide proof of the semi-industrial level of production suggested by some authors. The presence of the Antwerp carver’s mark, and/or the municipal coat of arms on all three works, also gives little indication as to whether or not they were specific commissions, as these marks can be found on the majority of Antwerp altarpieces, even the few for which the original contracts still survive.45 Furthermore, although some tenuous conclusions can been drawn, the lack of documentary evidence means that the original owners or location of these works is unknown. Therefore, in order to establish whether or not the altarpieces were non-commissioned works, produced according to some pre-prescribed formula for sale ready-made on the open market, it is necessary to conduct a detailed comparison of their iconography.
The representation of the Tree of Jesse appears relatively consistent in all three works. A bearded Jesse can be seen asleep, sitting on his chair under a tent-shaped canopy. In the Bocholt and Gifhorn altarpieces he rests his head in his left hand, while in the Pailhe altarpiece, he rests his head in his right. His other hand either grasps the base of the tree trunk that grows from his chest or rests on the arm of his chair. In the Bocholt and Pailhe works the trunk then splits into two main branches, which reach up to fill the remainder of the compartment and support the ancestors of Christ, while in the Gifhorn work the branches have been lost.
In the Pailhe altarpiece, the kings are arranged in flower blossoms; David can be identified by his attribute of a harp, while the figure opposite him wears a turban and may represent Solomon. Although only eleven kings can be seen here, visual analysis suggests that one of the smaller branches on the tree has broken off; this must have originally supported a twelfth king. Four figures with scrolls stand, two either side of Jesse; three of these figures wear archaic dress, suggesting that they are likely to represent prophets or patriarchs. Unfortunately, only the scrolls held by the figure to Jesse’s immediate right is still legible, it reads ‘egredietur virga de radice jesse’, clearly indicating that he is meant to represent the prophet Isaiah. The fourth figure appears to be wearing a cope and mitre and is likely to represent Aaron.46
The arrangement of the kings is very similar in the Bocholt altarpiece, although the tree is given more physical space.47 An inscription on Jesse’s robe clearly relates to Isaiah’s prophecy, ‘Flos nat… ejus… endre… flos’ (Flower born … of him … unknown … flower) and, once again, four standing figures appear with scrolls, two either side of Jesse. Although the inscriptions on three of these scrolls are still legible, we must bear in mind that this altarpiece has undergone considerable restoration and, consequently, their authenticity may be open to question.48 In both the Pailhe and Bocholt works, the Virgin appears as the supreme flower of the Tree, supporting the Christ Child on her lap.
Although little remains of the Jesse compartment of the Gifhorn altarpiece, it is still possible to make a comparison with the Pailhe and Bocholt works, and similarities in representation suggest that it is reasonable to assume that the branches of the tree must have once reached up into the upper part of the compartment, supporting twelve kings and, in all likelihood, crowned by a seated Virgin and Child. On the base of Jesse’s robe can be seen part of the angelic salutation ‘R.A. G… PLENA DOMINUS TE’, more commonly reserved for depictions of the Annunciation. However, as these words also form part of the rosary cycle of prayers, they may be indicative of a special devotion of the donor’s.49 Once again, the figures either side of Jesse hold scrolls. The inscription on the scroll held by the figure to Jesse’s right reads ‘egredietur virga de radice jesse’, identifying him as Isaiah, while the figure to Jesse’s left is dressed in a cope and mitre, and is therefore probably meant to represent Aaron. The text on his scroll is taken from Amos 9:13 and reads ‘stillabunt montes dulcedinem’.50 It seems likely, therefore, based on the Bocholt and Pailhe representations, that there were originally four figures in total. Small figurative scenes would have also once appeared in the now empty niches beneath the central Jesse compartment.51
From this comparison we can see that the representation of the Tree of Jesse is similar in each of the altarpieces, despite their different production dates. While this does seem to suggest the use of a common model, the depictions are not completely identical, implying the carver was able to exercise some artistic freedom. Comparison of the subject matter of the secondary scenes in each retable also identifies several similarities. For example, the Circumcision appears in all three works and is depicted in a fairly uniform manner. The week-old Christ can be seen on an altar, held by the Virgin, while a priest operates with a very large knife. The figures of the Pailhe group, however, are more expressive than those of the Bocholt group, while the Gifhorn group has lost most of its original polychromy and gilding, and all the secondary figures are missing. It also appears that the three works once featured the Nativity, but the Pailhe composition is the only group to retain all its original figures. In the Bocholt work, the Virgin and Child, as well as the shepherd in the background on the left, are twentieth-century replacements, and little remains in the Gifhorn compartment other than a relief carving of the Procession of the Kings on the back wall.52 In addition to the Nativity and Circumcision, both the Pailhe and Bocholt works feature representations of the Adoration of the Magi, Christ’s Presentation in the Temple and the Death of the Virgin. These follow standard depictions of the subject, and all the primary figures tend to display similar characteristics, although the arrangement of the secondary figures is quite different.53
While there is nothing that is particularly extraordinary about these secondary scenes, the Pailhe altarpiece, with its complex visual narrative and its extra compartment at the top of the central bay containing the Crucifixion, may well reflect the specifications of a special commission. The Crucifixion is positioned directly above the Tree of Jesse, which in turn appears above the Nativity; this is an unusual juxta-position of themes (Appendix 2.2).54 Furthermore, the scenes in the compartments of the side bays predominantly combine episodes from the childhood of Christ in which Mary is also an important figure: the Adoration of the Magi, the Circumcision and the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. The inclusion of the Death of the Virgin within this cycle seems rather incongruous. The Crucifixion is the most important scene in Passion altarpieces; while the Death of the Virgin, often combined with the Assumption, fulfils this role in Marian altarpieces, to have both together is a rare occurrence. When considering how the Pailhe altarpiece should be viewed, it appears that the vertical central axis is designed to be read from bottom to top, while the narrative sequence in the secondary compartments reads counterclockwise: from the Circumcision to the Death of the Virgin. Conversely, six small figurative scenes that can be seen in the recesses are designed to be read clockwise: from the Marriage of the Virgin to the Angel appearing to Joseph, presumably advising the Return to Nazareth.55 This atypical division of compartments, in conjunction with the curious arrangement of subjects, appears to be unique.56
Examination of the Bocholt altarpiece reveals that its narrative deviates from Pailhe in two main respects: its exclusion of the Crucifixion and its arrangement of scenes (Appendix 2.3). The Death of the Virgin is given prominence, beneath the Tree of Jesse in the central compartment of the lower register, while the Nativity is moved to the side. The main emphasis of this work is focused on the Virgin and her unique role in the salvific process; following her death and assumption, she can be seen crowning the Tree of Jesse as Queen of Heaven.57 The obvious inclusion of rosary beads, which are held by several of the figures in the Death of the Virgin compartment, may again imply the involvement of a patron, perhaps indicating that the altarpiece was commissioned for a confraternity associated with this particular cult. As with the Pailhe altarpiece, the central bay is designed to be read vertically from bottom to top. However, the sequence of the secondary scenes, which start from the left and move to the right side of the altarpiece, is also read vertically, although in this instance from top to bottom.
Although the Gifhorn altarpiece is in a very dilapidated state, the existence of the original painted wings provides useful information regarding the overall icono-graphic programme of the work (Appendix 2.4). The wings consist of two panels hinged together on either side of the caisse, with two smaller wings attached to the top extension of the raised central section. The scale of the figures on the wings is much larger than those of the caisse and both present events in a different physical space, although this disparity is not uncommon. The two panels on the left wing depict the Presentation and Marriage of the Virgin, while the upper wing depicts the Birth of the Virgin. The right-hand wing depicts Christ’s Presentation in the Temple and the Massacre of the Innocents, while the top features the Flight into Egypt. Designed to be read from left to right when open, the wings on the left depict episodes from the Life of the Virgin, leading to the Nativity, while those on the right depict episodes from the Life of Christ following his Circumcision. The Tree of Jesse, the genealogical tree of both Christ and His mother at the centre of the caisse, gives a theological coherence to the work. The representation of the Massacre of the Innocents, derived from the text in Matthew 2:16–18, is not only a rare theme in Antwerp altarpieces, but also presents an iconographical peculiarity.58 Usually the mothers of the murdered children are portrayed grief stricken, pleading and lamenting, whereas here, a mother has her child’s murderer by the hair and is beating him with her shoe. It has been suggested that these paintings may be related to the circle of Goswijn (Goossen) van der Weyden, who was active in Antwerp in the early sixteenth century, although it is also possible that the wings were commissioned from a German artist and attached at a later date.59 Possible evidence of a German origin for these wings is provided by a panel painting of the Massacre of the Innocents, dated 1462, attributed to the Master of the Freising Visitation, which also features a mother attacking the murderer of her children.60 Whatever the source, this unusual iconography may well reflect the input of a patron, perhaps with a special devotion to the Holy Innocents.61
Consequently, despite the many similarities between the iconography of the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe works, there are also many disparities, which may be a reflection of the individual requirements of their patrons. Even with their differing dates of production, however, similarities in representation and subject matter do support the premise that workshops were using common models.62 It may be the case, therefore, that ready-made sections were combined with customised elements. The modular format of the caisse meant this could be easily implemented, and works could have also had specially commissioned wings and a predella, which may or may not have been executed in Antwerp.63 A patron could select different elements of the altarpiece according to his own iconographic preferences and the amount he wished to spend, and a ready-made work in the marketplace could have acted primarily as a sample of a workshop’s production. This theory may be supported by an entry that appeared in the accounts of the Brotherhood of Our Lady,’s-Hertogenbosch (1475–6), which discusses the preparations for the commission of a new altarpiece for the chapel of the Brotherhood. Folio 207v states that a panel was inspected in Antwerp, ‘to decide whether we wanted to have a similar one made’.64
As the previous chapters have demonstrated, there had been renewed interest in Tree of Jesse iconography across a wide range of media, in the Low Countries and Germany, by the early sixteenth century, linked to the cult of the Virgin and escalating devotion to her mother, Saint Anne. Its adoption by Antwerp carvers in altarpieces devoted to the Virgin can be seen as part of this overall phenomenon, where the function of the motif is to confirm the Mother of Christ’s Davidic ancestry and highlight her role in the Incarnation, the fulfilment of Isaiah’s prophecy. However, it seems that the motif can most often be found in altarpieces focused on the Passion. The popularity of these Antwerp Passion altarpieces may, therefore, be partly a reflection of contemporary theological concerns.
Luther’s Theologia Crucis, Theology of the Cross, was first fully articulated in the Heidelberg Disputation of 1518, and became a fundamental doctrine of the Lutheran church.65 Luther stated that it is only in the contemplation of the sufferings of Christ on the Cross that God is revealed, and argued that through this meditation the believer would be able to understand the extent of human sin and the generosity of divine redemption. The Cross was the foundation and focus of Lutheran faith and worship, and it seems likely that this would have had an impact on the iconographic choices made by German patrons sympathetic to these ideas.66 In addition, Antwerp’s exceptional economic growth at the beginning of the sixteenth century had also witnessed an equally spectacular rise in its printing activities, and it was not long before the commercial potential of Lutheran texts was recognised by the city’s printers.67 During the winter of 1520–21, one press alone published five works by Luther, and by 1524 many more of Luther’s works had appeared in Dutch. This, combined with the urban character of Antwerp, which was a natural breeding ground for new ideas, meant that as early as 1519 Luther had gained many followers there.68 It is not a coincidence that more than 60% (one hundred and twelve) of the one hundred and seventy-nine surviving Antwerp altarpieces feature the Passion, and it seems probable that both Antwerp carvers and their customers, at home and abroad, were influenced by Luther’s Theology of the Cross. In Passion altarpieces, where Jesse occupies the central compartment of the lower register, scenes of the Nativity and Infancy of Christ usually appear on either side. The branches of the tree then rise up to frame the Crucifixion, which is flanked by other scenes of the Passion. As with the conflation of these themes on the back of a chasuble, these Antwerp altarpieces not only highlight the humanity of Christ, but also encapsulate the whole story of salvation in a single image. On Sundays and feast days, when the altarpiece stood open during the celebration of the Mass, the congregation were reminded of the messianic nature of Isaiah’s prophecy and of Christ’s ultimate sacrifice for the sake of mankind.
Although there were no rules about the form or content of carved altarpieces, their primary role was to support the liturgy and convey the message of the Gospels.69 These altarpieces had to function throughout the ecclesiastical year and be appropriate to the celebration of all the major Christian feasts. However, detailed examination of the iconography of the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe retables suggests that these works may be designed around the season of Advent, which marked the beginning of the liturgical calendar. For example, the text on Jesse’s robe in the Gifhorn altarpiece, the angelic salutation, is clearly associated with the Nativity, and the inscription on Aaron’s scroll, ‘the mountains shall drop sweetness’, can also be seen to refer to the Rorate Caeli, the words of Isaiah used daily throughout Advent.70 Furthermore, the inclusion of the text from Micah 5:2 on the Bocholt altarpiece which prophesises that a promised ruler will come from Bethlehem is frequently used in the Advent and Christmas liturgy.71
Advent began on the fourth Sunday before Christmas Day and lasted until Christmas Eve; this was followed by a series of feasts, the most important of which was the Nativity on the 25th December. After this there was the celebration of the Holy Innocents on the 28th December, Christ’s Circumcision on the 1st January72 and the Epiphany on the 6th January, which commemorated the manifestation of Christ, beginning with the revelation to the Magi. The last feast in the sequence, on the 2nd February, celebrated Christ’s Presentation in the Temple. The proximity of these feasts in the liturgical calendar seems to have led to their association with Advent and Christ’s incarnation, clearly reflected in the scenes represented within the three altarpieces. The caisse of the Gifhorn work features the Nativity and Circumcision, while the Massacre of the Holy Innocents, the Presentation of Christ and the Adoration of the Magi appear on the painted wings. The Bocholt and Pailhe altarpieces, although they exclude the Massacre of the Holy Innocents, feature the other four scenes within their carved caisses. In addition, given its association with the Tree of Jesse, it seems significant that the Feast of the Conception of the Virgin also fell during Advent, on the 8th December, although its lack of scriptural foundation meant that it was suppressed by the Lutheran church.73
The textual basis for the altarpieces’ imagery fundamentally derives from the Gospels of Saint Matthew and Saint Luke, which both also describe Christ’s genealogy, although neither covers all the events. It appears, therefore, that the function of these altarpieces may have been to provide the viewer with a more comprehensive and ordered version of the narrative than is portrayed in either of the Gospels. In this context, the use of the Tree of Jesse is also relevant. The prophecy of Isaiah is directly connected with the Advent liturgy, and the Lesson on the second Sunday of Advent is taken from Saint Jerome’s commentary, in which he interprets the Virgin as ‘the rod out of the root of Jesse’. During Vespers in the last week of Advent, the Tree of Jesse is recalled once again in one of the Greater Antiphons, O Radix Jesse.74 The presence of the prophets, depicted on either side of Jesse, may also be seen as a reference to Advent and Christmas, evoking the dramatic tradition of the Procession of the Prophets, which usually took place during Matins on Christmas Day. This involved each prophet being summoned by the choir or preacher to deliver his prophecy in the middle of the nave, and it always included the prophecy of Isaiah.75
Although the interior of the altarpieces would have been seen only on Sundays and feast days, the iconography on the exterior of the wings would normally act as a reminder to the congregation of the Incarnation and Epiphany. This is demonstrated by the depiction of the Adoration of the Magi on the exterior of the Gifhorn wings, and it may be that the Bocholt and Pailhe altarpieces also featured similar iconography on the exteriors of their wings. Unfortunately, with the loss of the wings and predellas it is difficult to draw any further conclusions as to how these altarpieces might have functioned in relation to the liturgical year. It is also hard to understand how the inclusion of the Death of the Virgin relates to the Advent theme, although it may be significant that the Assumption of the Virgin, on the 15th August, was one of the few Marian festivals retained by the Lutheran church.
Of the one hundred and seventy-nine surviving Antwerp carved altarpieces dating from the early sixteenth century, 22% have, or had, some kind of representation of the Tree of Jesse. Approximately one third of these Tree of Jesse altarpieces are devoted to the Virgin, although the vast majority feature the Passion. Typically, Jesse appears in the lower register of the caisse, with the tree framing the Crucifixion in the upper register. With their multi-compartmental format, the Antwerp altarpieces were thus able to encompass the two major themes of Christian doctrine (Incarnation and Salvation), while the Tree of Jesse provided a coherent and decorative visual device to link the two subjects. Examination of the iconography of the Gifhorn, Bocholt and Pailhe retables also suggests that some of these works may have been particularly designed around the season of Advent, which marked the beginning of the liturgical year.
The popularity of Passion altarpieces in the early sixteenth century may be a reflection of contemporary interest in Luther’s Theology of the Cross, which could have influenced the iconographic choices made by patrons sympathetic to Lutheranism. Moreover, although iconic elements were not completely excluded by Luther’s teachings, the popularity of these altarpieces may have also been related to changing ideas regarding the use of religious imagery. The fashion in Germany for altarpieces that consisted of a series of life-size statues of the holy figures was attracting criticism from reformers. Antwerp carved altarpieces, with their small narrative scenes, must have seemed a pleasing and less controversial option for patrons.76 In addition, the extensive use of gold within the caisse meant that the miniaturised images could not be perceived of as real and, with the inclusion of typological motifs such as the Tree of Jesse, there was no danger of them being misconstrued.
Similarities in construction and subject matter have led to the assumption that, in order to speed up production, there was a great deal of standardisation between Antwerp altarpieces. A detailed study of the Bocholt, Pailhe and Gifhorn works, where the Tree of Jesse appears in the centre of the caisse, provides a useful opportunity to test this hypothesis. All three works originated in Antwerp between c.1510 and c.1530. Not only does the physical evidence reveal original markings that identify them, but also all three share similar physical characteristics. However, due to losses, any evidence that might have provided information regarding the original ownership or location of the works is missing, and their iconographic programmes are also incomplete. Nevertheless, although similarities do indicate that common workshop models were used over a period of at least ten to twenty years, significant differences also suggest that these altarpieces may have been modified to suit the specific iconographic requirements of a patron. The complex visual narrative of the Pailhe altarpiece seems unique, while the prominent display of rosary beads in the Bocholt work implies that its patron may have been associated with that particular cult. Furthermore, the angelic salutation found on the hem of Jesse’s robe and the unusual iconography of the Massacre of the Innocents on the painted wings of the Gifhorn work could also be significant. It seems that it may be the case that rather than workshops producing ready-made altarpieces for sale on the open market, it was more commonplace for ready-made sections to be combined with customised elements, creating a unique altarpiece that was made to order.
The popularity of the Tree of Jesse motif among Antwerp carvers and their patrons in the early sixteenth century can, therefore, be explained by the fact that it was an extremely useful and decorative tool, one highly suited to the structure of Antwerp altarpieces, that could be used to link together the iconographic elements of the carved caisse. Ultimately, however, the progress of the Reformation, particularly in Germany and Sweden, led to a reduction in demand for Antwerp altarpieces and, following the iconoclastic fury in Antwerp in 1566, the local market was also affected. Elsewhere, carved altarpieces were increasingly considered old fashioned and contemporary taste turned in favour of painted triptychs or Italian models.77
1. These works were, however, the subject of this author’s master’s thesis, Susan L. Green, ‘O Radix Jesse’: The function of the Tree of Jesse motif in three Antwerp carved altar-pieces of the early sixteenth century (MA Thesis: Courtauld Institute of Art, London, 2007).
2. Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th Centuries and Ria de Boodt, ‘Bijdrage tot de studie van de iconografie en de historiek van het Antwerps retabel van Pailhe (ca.1510–1530)’, Bulletin des Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Parc du Cinquantenaire, Bruxelles, Vol. 67 (1996), 121–133.
3. See Susie Nash, ‘Centres’, in Northern Renaissance Art (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 71–85.
4. Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th Centuries, 17.
5. The Pentecost Fair (Sinxenmarkt) began on the second Sunday before Pentecost and the Saint Bavo’s Fair (Bamismarkt) began on the second Sunday after Assumption. Typically these fairs lasted for approximately six weeks and were part of an annual cycle of fairs in Brabant. From 1468 Antwerp had repeatedly extended its fair times, becoming essentially a permanent marketplace by 1520. For more information see Léon Voet, ‘Antwerp, the Metropolis and Its History’, in Jan van der Stock ed., Antwerp: Story of a Metropolis, 16th–17th century, Exh. Cat. (Ghent: Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 1993), 14–16 and Filip Vermeylen, ‘Exporting Art across the Globe, The Antwerp Art Market in the Sixteenth Century’, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, Vol. 50 (1999), 13–29.
6. For full details see Dan Ewing, ‘Marketing Art in Antwerp, 1460–1560: Our Lady’s Pand’, Art Bulletin, Vol. 72, No. 4 (December 1990), 558–584.
7. See Lorne Campbell, ‘The Art Market in the Southern Netherlands in the 15th Century’, The Burlington Magazine, Vol. 118, No. 877 (April 1976), 188–198 and, Nash, Northern Renaissance Art, 85.
8. Few of these altarpieces were in their current locations in the sixteenth century, but large geographical concentrations, combined with some iconographic and documentary evidence, provides proof that they were widely exported, particularly to Germany and Scandinavia. For the provenance of several of these altarpieces see Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th Centuries. For a discussion of the specific problems that are associated with the study of carved altarpieces, including location, see Carl van de Velde, ‘Art-Historical Study of Brabantine Wooden Altarpieces’, in Carl van de Velde et al. eds., Constructing Wooden Images (Brussels: VUB Brussels University Press, 2005), 1–17.
9. For the most up-to-date inventory see Ria de Boodt and Ulrich Schäfer, Vlaamse retabels. Een internationale reis langs laatmiddeleeuws beeldsnijwerk (Leuven: Davidsfonds, 2007), 281–291. Of the one hundred and seventy-nine altarpieces identified, one hundred and fifty-seven have Antwerp marks.
10. Brigitte d’Hainaut-Zveny ed., Miroirs du Sacré, Les Retables sculptées à Bruxelles XVe–XVIe siècles (Brusells: CFC-É ditions, 2005). The only altarpiece to feature the iconography is the Saluces retable (Musée de la Ville, Brussels), where it appears on the closed view of the painted wings, attributed to the Brussels artist Valentin van Orley.
11. The Saint Anne altarpiece can be found in the Propsteikirche Sankt Mariae Geburt in Kempen (North Rhine-Westphalia).
12. Peter Damian, Homilia de exaltatione sanctae crucis (Sermo XLVIII.I) in Migne, S.Petri Damiani Patrologia Latina, Vol. 144, col. 761.
13. A facsimile of this manuscript, with commentary, can be found in Willibrord Neumüller, Speculum humanae salvationis: Codex Cremifanensis 243 des Benediktinerstiftes Kremsmünster (Graz: Akademische Drucku. Verlagsanstalt, 1997). A second early fourteenth-century example can be found in the Bruentto Latini Le Livre du Trésor (BL Yates Thompson 19, fol.18r).
14. Examples can be found in the Saint Viktor Cathedral Treasury, Xanten; the Münster Treasury in Essen; the parish church of Heinsberg, North Rhine-Westphalia; Saint Peter’s church in Leuven; the church of Sint-Gertrudis, Machelen; the church of Saint Lambert in Nismes; the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium in Brussels; and the Musée nationale du Moyen Âge, Paris.
15. Guild registers specifically list ornamental architectural carvers and specialist caisse makers. See J. van Damme, ‘Omtrent het aandeel van de Antwerpse schrijnwerkers in de retabelproduktie’, in Hans Nieuwdorp ed., Antwerpse retables, 15de–16de eeuw, Vol. 2, Essays (Antwerp: Muzeen voor Religieuze Kunst, 1993), 54–56. The flexibility of the Antwerp Guild of Saint Luke meant that both carvers and painters belonged to the same guild, hence co-operation on works was easy to organise and artists were able to work together for mutual profit in fully integrated workshops. This was different to the situation in other cities, such as Brussels, where painters and sculptors were enrolled in different guilds and therefore competed with each other. See Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces, 19.
16. Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces, 19–20 and Alfons Thijs, ‘Antwerp’s Luxury Industries: The Pursuit of Profit and Artistic Sensitivity’, in Jan van der Stock ed., Antwerp: Story of a Metropolis, 16th–17th century Exh. Cat. (Ghent: Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, 1993), 105.
17. She supports this argument by citing documents, including individual sales records, guild agreements and listings of non-resident sales, which she claims indicate that altarpieces were sold without commissions. Lynn Jacobs, ‘The Marketing and Standardisation of South Netherlandish Carved Altarpieces: Limits on the Role of Patron’, Art Bulletin, Vol. 71, No. 2 (June 1989), 208–229 and Lynn Jacobs, ‘The Commissioning of Early Netherlandish Carved Altarpieces: Some Documentary Evidence’, in Gregory T. Clark et al. eds., A Tribute to Robert A. Koch, Studies in the Northern Renaissance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 83–111 (especially 104). Much of this research is discussed again in Lynn Jacobs, Early Netherlandish Carved Altarpieces 1380–1550, Medieval Tastes and Mass Marketing (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998).
18. The origin and dissemination of this form of representation is discussed in some detail in the following chapter.
19. More recent research by Natasja Peeters and Maximiliaan Martens has suggested that the quantity of Antwerp altarpieces must have been considerably smaller than proposed in previous studies and, therefore, to talk of mass production is misleading. See Natasja Peeters and Maximiliaan Martens, ‘A Cutting Edge? Wood-Carvers and their Workshops in Antwerp 1453–1579’, in Carl van de Velde et al. eds., Constructing Wooden Images, 75–92.
20. In 1940, 1969 and in 2002–2004. This final restoration returned the altarpiece to its original state as far as was possible, and the discovery of an original number system meant previous mounting errors could be corrected. See the 2004 Pailhe Conservation Report at IRPA in Brussels.
21. Pierre Peeters’ 1903–5 restoration programme is quoted at length in Antwerp Altarpieces, 1993, 93, note 12. The altarpiece was restored again in 1953 to repair fire damage following the Second World War, and then again in 1992 in preparation for the Antwerp Altar-piece exhibition, although intervention was kept to a minimum. For a full discussion of the restoration of this altarpiece see Myriam Serck-Dewaide, ‘Examen et Restauration de huit retables anversois’, in Hans Nieuwdorp ed., Antwerpse retables, 15de–16de eeuw, Vol. 2, Essays (Antwerp: Muzeen voor Religieuze Kunst, 1993), 133–134.
22. Hector Wilhelm Mithoff, Kunstdenkmale und Alterthümer in Hannoverschen (Hannover: Helwing, 1877), 80. Hans Georg Gmelin notes that the altarpiece was restored by the restorer Felis in Hannover, although the museum has no record of this. Gmelin, Spätgotische Tafelmalerei in Niedersachsen und Bremen (Munich and Berlin: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1974), 651.
23. This was based on a physical examination with the conservator, Iris Herpers, at the Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum on the 4th May, 2007.
24. An index of all these different marks can be found in the Pailhe 2004 Conservation Report at the Institut Royal Du Patrimoine Artistique (IRPA), Parc du Cinquantenaire, Brussels.
25. Michael Wolfson, Die deutschen und niederlandischen Gemalde bis 1550, Kritischer Katalog mit Abbildungen aller Werke bearbeitet (Hannover: Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, 1992), 228. This was confirmed by Ulrich Schäfer following his examination of the altar-piece in 2007.
26. Mithoff, Kunstdenkmale und Alterthümer im Hannoverschen, 78.
27. Gert von der Osten, Katalog der Bildwerke in der Niedersächsischen Landesgalerie (Munich: Bruckmann Verlag, 1957), 171.
28. As discussed in the Introduction, this pattern of survival relates to a large extent to the events of the Reformation. The Rhineland remained mostly Catholic, with some pockets of Lutheranism, which meant that on the whole the churches in this area remained un-desecrated.
29. Bulletin des Commissions Royales d’Art et D’Archeologie, 3, 1864, p. 435.
30. R. Kremer, ‘Le Retable de Bocholt’, Bulletin des Métiers D’Art (January 1903), 193
31. Christina Ceulemans, ‘Bocholt, Virgin Mary Altarpiece’, in Hans Nieuwdorp ed., Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th centuries, Exh. Cat. (Antwerp: Muzeen voor Religieuze Kunst, 1993), 84. See also Buyle and Vanthillo, Retables Flamands et Brabançons, 134–135.
32. Serck-Dewaide, suggests that these wings probably came from a rectangular Brussels altar-piece of c.1510. See ‘Examen et Restauration de huit retables anversois’, 133.
33. Boodt, ‘Bijdrage tot de studie van de iconografie’, 129–130.
34. A report of a visit to the church by archdeacons from the Condroz in 1754 refers to an old altar table, a tabula altaris est antiqua, this has been seen by Boodt as a possible reference to a wooden retable, which may indicate that the altarpiece was on the high altar of the old church in Pailhe by the mid-eighteenth century. No other documents relating to the history of this work survive. See Boodt, ‘Bijdrage tot de studie van de iconografie’, 131–133.
35. The Pailhe altarpiece is displayed with neither wings nor a predella, although hinge marks on the sides of the caisse indicate that wings were once attached.
36. For details of dendrochronological analysis see Jozef Vynckier, ‘Notes on the Dendrochronological Examination of Several Carved Antwerp Altarpieces From the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries’, in Hans Nieuwdorp ed., Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th Centuries, Exh. Cat., 189–191.
37. The 2004 Conservation Report at IRPA makes a comparison with the slightly later Passion altarpiece of d’Oplinter, also in the Royal Museums of Fine Arts in Brussels, suggesting its curved shape may reflect the influence of the Renaissance.
38. Nieuwdorp, Antwerp Altarpieces 15th–16th Centuries, 22.
39. Jospeh Borchgrave D’Altena, ‘A propos du Retable de Pailhe’, Bulletin Des Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Bruxelles (September–October, 1940), 114.
40. Ria de Boodt et al., have suggested that the hand of maybe three or even four carvers can be identified. See ‘Reconstruction and Deconstruction: Interdisciplinary Research on the Altar-pieces of Bassine, Pailhe and Gaasbeek’, in Carl Van de Velde ed., Constructing Wooden Images, 175.
41. A Jesse fragment at the Victoria and Albert museum in London measures 58 × 28 cm, approximately the same size as the Jesse in the Bocholt altarpiece, see Paul Williamson, Netherlandish Sculpture, 1450–1550 (London: V&A Publications, 2002), 88. Another Jesse fragment in the Staatliche Mussen zu Berlin measures 43 × 33 cm, Antwerp Altar-pieces 15th–16th Centuries, 148. A third fragment, in Groot Kasteel van Loppem in Belgium, measures 42 × 28 cm.
42. For a more detailed physical description of all three altarpieces see Green, ‘O Radix Jesse’.
43. This technique was particularly popular with Antwerp polychromists and replaced the more time consuming applied brocade technique still used by the Brussels workshops. See Myriam Serck-Dewaide, ‘Support and Polychromy of Altarpieces From Brussels, Mechlin and Antwerp, Study, Comparison and Restoration’, in Valerie Dorge ed., Painted Wood: History and Conservation (Los Angeles: Getty Conservation Institute, 1998), 90.
44. When discussing the Passion altarpiece now at Radley College, Kim Woods has associated this female facial type with the style of the Antwerp painter Quinten Metsys, see ‘Some Sixteenth-Century Antwerp Carved Wooden Altarpieces in England’, The Burlington Magazine, Vol. 141, No. 1152 (March 1999), 154.
45. See for example the Saint Gregory (Holy Sacrament) Altarpiece of Averbode (1513–14) in the Musée nationale du Moyen Âge, Paris, or the Passion Altarpiece (1517–18) in the church of Saint Martin and Saint Severus, Münstermaifeld, which both have Antwerp marks. The contracts for these altarpieces are discussed in Jacobs, ‘The Commissioning of Early Netherlandish Carved Altarpieces: Some Documentary Evidence’, 83–111.
46. As discussed in the Introduction, Aaron often features in Tree of Jesse iconography.
47. The king holding a model church, opposite David with his harp, is likely to represent Solomon, although both figures are twentieth-century replacements.
48. The scroll held by the figure to Jesse’s left reads Septuaginta, perhaps simply conveying that what follows is taken from the Septuagint, the oldest Greek version of the Old Testament. The scroll of the prophet in front of him, reads ‘ex te mihi egredietur qui sit dominator’, referring to a text from Micah 5:2, which discusses a promised ruler coming from Bethlehem. On Jesse’s right, the scroll held by the foremost prophet reads ‘femina circumdabit virum’, which is taken from Jeremiah 31:22, ‘for the Lord hath created a new thing upon the earth: A woman shall compass a man’. The text on the scroll of the prophet behind Jeremiah is obscured and cannot be read.
49. As discussed in Chapter Three, the cult of the rosary had spread rapidly in the latter quarter of the fifteenth century, following the foundation of the first confraternity of the rosary in Cologne in 1475.
50. Amos 9:13 ‘and the mountains shall drop sweetness’.
51. Incised lines on the back of the niches denoted the areas to be gilded; the visible outlines suggest that the spaces contained small sculptural groups as opposed to individual holy figures. A small statuette of Saint Peter, which appeared in the central niche prior to 1955, was presumably removed when it was discovered that it was made of poplar and therefore not original to the work.
52. It is assumed that this compartment would have originally featured a Nativity, as the Adoration of the Magi appears on the exterior of the wings.
53. The black king and his page in the Bocholt compartment are twentieth-century replacements, as is the soldier behind Joseph.
54. It has been suggested by Boodt that this may indicate that the altarpiece was commissioned for a cult with a special veneration for the Birth of Christ and the Immaculate Conception, although there is no evidence for this assumption. Boodt, ‘Bijdrage tot de studie van de iconografie’, 133.
55. There were originally eight recess scenes, but two are now missing.
56. Very few Antwerp altarpieces are divided in this way, although other examples are the Zülpich Saints altarpiece and the Linnich Saint Catherine altarpiece, which, in view of their specific iconography, are likely to have been commissioned works. See Boodt, ‘Bijdrage tot de studie van de iconografie’, 123. The Münstermaifeld Passion altarpiece, commissioned from the Antwerp sculptor Jan Genoots, also has a relatively similar seven part arrangement and features a Tree of Jesse in its lower register. See Ulrich Schäfer, ‘Is It Possible to Describe the Personal Style of an Antwerp Carver’, in Carl van de Velde et al. eds., Constructing Wooden Images, 27–50.
57. There is no scriptural foundation for the Death of the Virgin or for the Assumption, although the Feast of the Assumption, the principal feast of the Virgin, is celebrated on the 15th August, three days after her supposed death. See Thomas J. Heffernan and E. Ann Matter, The Liturgy of the Medieval Church (Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 2001, 483.
58. The feast of the Holy Innocents is celebrated on the 28th December; it was kept within the octave of Christmas because the Holy Innocents were believed to have given their lives for the newborn Saviour. It may also be significant that the Lutheran liturgy continued to recognise this feast. See Frank C. Senn, Christian Liturgy: Catholic and Evangelical (Minneapolis: Fortress Press), 1997, 342.
59. The object file in the museum contains letters from Friedrich Winkler in 1928, Jaap Leeuwenberg in 1953 (Conservator of the Rijkmuseum in Amsterdam) and Max Friedlander in 1954, that all suggest that the paintings may be related to the circle of Goswijn van der Weyden. Wolfson, on the other hand, believes that the panels appear to have been influenced by the style of the Master of the Saint Catherine Legend. See Wolfson, Die deutschen und niederlandischen Gemalde bis 1550, 229.
60. Freising is a town in Bavaria, north of Munich.
61. When closed, the exterior of all four large panels depict the Adoration of the Magi, now badly damaged, while the two small upper wings contain hovering angels. The back of the caisse has a painted crucifix and the sides have the remains of painted apostles. These are painted over parts of the caisse that have clearly been replaced at some point and, although old, cannot be original.
62. A drawing in the British Museum (Inv.1895–9–15–1005) is so similar to the Antwerp altar-piece representations of the Tree of Jesse that it may well have acted as one such model.
63. Yao-Fen You reached a similar conclusion following her study of Netherlandish altarpieces in Rhineland Germany. See ‘The “Infinite Variety” of Netherlandish Carved Altarpieces’, in Ethan Matt Kavaler, Frits Scholten and Joanna Woodall eds., Netherlandish Sculpture of the 16th Century, Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art, Vol. 67 (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 35–73.
64. A copy of these accounts can be found in Carol M. Richardson, Kim W. Woods and Michael W. Franklin eds., Renaissance Art Reconsidered: An Anthology of Primary Sources (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing in association with the Open University, 2006), 74–75.
65. For a full discussion of the emergence of this theology between 1514 and 1519, see Alister E. McGrath, Luther’s Theology of the Cross, Martin Luther’s Theological Breakthrough (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell 2011), 201–211.
66. Although the dating of the large majority of Passion altarpieces is not precise enough to know exactly whether they came before or after the Heidelberg Disputation, Luther’s ideas regarding his new theology had been formulating for many years prior to this date.
67. Duke, Reformation and Revolt in the Low Countries, 16.
68. Voet, ‘Antwerp, the Metropolis and its History’, 16.
69. Colum Hourihane ed., Objects, Images and The Word, Art in the Service of the Liturgy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003), 5. For the function of altarpieces see also Beth Williamson, ‘Altarpieces, Liturgy, and Devotion’, Speculum 79 (2004), 341–406.
70. Isaiah 45:8: ‘Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the just: let the earth be opened, and bud forth a saviour: and let justice spring up together: I the Lord have created him’.
71. Micah 5:2: ‘And Thou, Bethlehem Ephrata, art a little one among the thousands of Juda: out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be the ruler in Israel: and his going forth is from the beginning, from the days of eternity’.
72. The Circumcision was considered significant as it was the first shedding of Christ’s redemptive blood.
73. Senn, Christian Liturgy, 344.
74. Heffernan and Matter, The Liturgy of the Medieval Church, 192.
75. Karl Young, ‘The Procession of Prophets’, in The Drama of the Medieval Church, Vol. II (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1933), 125–171.
76. Life-size statues seem to have been a particular target for the iconoclasts. The sixteenth-century historian Marcus Van Vaernewijck states repeatedly that works attacked were ‘large as life’. See Van die beroerlicke tijden in die Nederlanden en voornamelijk in Ghendt, 1566–1568 (edited by Ferdinand Vanderhaeghen), Vol. 1 (Ghent: Annoot-Braeckman, 1872), 128–131, 142, 146–147, 149, 155–156, 158, 161.
77. Thijs, ‘Antwerp’s Luxury Industries’, 109.