15 | Hieronymus
Bosch, Saint Liberata tryptich. Venezia, Palazzo Ducale, cat. 2045.
16 | a Mathis Grünewald, Saint George and other six Holy Helpers, 1503. Lindenhardt, Parish church.
b Mathis Grünewald, Saint Denys and other six Holy Helpers, 1503. Lindenhardt, Parish church.
in white, to Judas (identifyable by the money purse and the yellow garment),35 is, if I am not mistaken, more reminiscent of Flemish, rather than German, style. How could Mathis have known this, or other analogous works by Bosch?
We have already mentioned the extreme freedom, perhaps aided by the type of training he received, our painter was able to maintain from the very beginning with the figurative examples around him. But, above all, it is probable that Mathis also spent his period of apprenticeship outside his city as normally provided for in guild statutes.36 This could explain the influence of Bosch. Bosch’s Conjurer was quite popular, as proved by the surviving copies, and so it would not be surprising if Mathis had known it, directly from the original (now considered lost, due to doubts about the copy in Saint-Germain-en-Laye) or at least a copy. It is of extreme importance to note that at least two works by Bosch, today lost, were placed in the Bonn cathedral (a triptych with Stories of Jesus and Christ Bearing the Cross), one acquired in 1518 and the other mentioned in 1584. Therefore, it is not necessarily true that Grünewald would have seen them in his youth. However, they indicate the early popularity of Bosch’s works in areas not distant from where Mathis was. Moreover, we should not forget that the works of this great Dutch painter could, and still can, be seen in
Venice, and this is where Albrecht Dürer encountered them during his hypothetical first voyage in Italy. In short, information about him was not lacking in Germany.
Among Bosch’s works in Venice is the St. Liberata Triptych (today in the Palazzo Ducale collection, cat. 2045) [fig. 15], dated ca. 1500.37 Compared to The Conjurer (confirmed to be an earlier work), Bosch has profoundly innovated both the luminist timbre, here more delicate and mellow, and the drawing, which became more fluid and
to the presence in the city of a Nicolas von Rhine de Haguenau “dit Grünwalt”, who purchased land in Hochfeld.12 The city and the name are the same as the sculptor of the statues in the Isenheim Altarpiece, but it should be clarified whether the Nicolas de Haguenau documented in 1429 is the grandfather or other relative of the sculptor, and if there is proof that the surname Grünwalt is also linked to the Hagnower family. It should be said that in the signatures left by Niklaus on his works, this name never appears, and that he, himself, had to acquire Strasbourg citizenship, suggesting that he arrived there from some other place. But if it were the case, however, a plausible hypothesis could be that the now-lost frame of the Isenheim Altarpiece bore the signature of the sculptor, whose surname would later be transferred to the sculptor of the more famous painted panels.13 The not-infrequent presence of the surname Grünewald or Grünwalt in Strasbourg and Aschaffenburg may have contributed to Sandrart’s error.14
The probable, though not definite, consequence deriving from the logic of the altar’s construction, is that Grünewald had not painted the enormous panels in Mainz and then transported them to Isenheim, but rather produced them directly on-site. Or, as Béguerie-De Paepe suggests, in Strasbourg in the workshop of Niclaus, whose
83 | Niclaus Hagnower (and Mathis Grünewald?), The Saints Anthony the Abbott, Augustine, Jerome with the preceptor Guy Guers (or Jean d’Orlier) and a peasant, and Jesus with the Twelve Apostles (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1513. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
Reviewing the limited known dates, besides Guers’s death in 1516, we know of two contracts in Mathis’s post mortem inventory with carpenter Michael von Altkirch in 1513 and Michael Wesser in 1515, almost certainly the same person. If Grünewald safeguarded these documents, it means they were important to him. Almost certainly he was personally involved in maintaining for a certain number of years something which, in turn, required him to subcontract a part to this Michael Wesser.20 For those who have some experience with notarial documents from the early 1500s (even, as in my case, more Italian than German), it does not seem at all strange that a major altarpiece would be entrusted entirely to a painter who would personally have to see to its installation and maintenance and, in turn, would have to assign the woodworking to a carpenter he trusted, from whom he would require similar guarantees. This is probably why Mathis retained these documents that were so important to him, and it is difficult to think that in the period 1513–1515, these could have pertained to anything but the Isenheim Altarpiece 21 Unfortunately, the inventory does not provide a summary of the two contracts, but it would seem probable that in 1513 Mathis had ordered the panels he was to paint (it should be recalled that the strict regulations of the German guilds required the separation of the work of sculptors and painters, thus Niclaus Hagnower could not have prepared them), and the 1515 contract could be for the installation of the painted panels. In addition—and this seems to me to be a decisive point—Altkirch is a city in Upper Alsace not far from Isenheim. It is hard to see in what other context Mathis could have contacted a master carpenter in that area. This would give us a chronology of 1513–1515, a 2 to 3-year period essentially compatible with the requirements of a work of that size, with the date of “1515” seemingly inscribed on Mary Magdalene’s ointment jar in the Crucifixion. If, as will be seen, there was a short extension in this period, it was not long enough to impact the time frame we are proposing at all.
In addition, as has been noted a number of times, there were hearings in Frankfurt in 1514 in the trial regarding work on the Aschaffenburg castle fireplace, and from these acts, we gather, among other things, news about activities of the Dominicans in 1511. Mathis is mentioned several times as a key witness, but he never appeared, evidently because he was away or perhaps he never even received the summons.
Deviating somewhat from the process used to this point, I suggest a different approach for the altar: first, examine it as a liturgical object, attempting to indicate, in a general way, the iconography. Then, analyse in detail the scenes individually from the perspective of style and materials used, no longer following the iconographical order, but rather the most likely internal chronology.
The altarpiece was the visual culmination of a quite exceptional decorative effort.
95 | Mathis Grünewald, Annunciation (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1513. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
in Latin, featured plates he would have understood at sight. Alternatively, he might have found it in the library of the Isenheim monastery.
However, the real spatial indicator is color, even in its internal references: the red of the angel and of the taut curtain against the blue of the Virgin Mary and the darkness of the shadowed sections of the wall and the vaulting. As well as the elements of virtuosity, such as the unstable dancing of the light on the high Gothic sculpture of the Prophet Isaiah (who, according to the Christian interpretation, foretold in his book the incarnation of the Messiah in a virgin: Isaiah, 7:14, the excerpt also seen in tiny Gothic characters in the book Mary is reading, in which it is also repeated twice)34 [fig. 100].
After completing this image, Mathis certainly began work on the other side of the panel and, together with another of similar size, conceived his grand and terrifying Crucifixion (overall, 258 × 307 cm) [fig. 101].
This is what the faithful, pilgrims, the sick waiting to be cured (often attained, or only hoped for, through devastating amputations),35 and the dying, saw before them for the greater part of the year as they prayed in church. An imposing Christ,
101 | Mathis Grünewald, Crucifixion (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1513–1514. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
104 | Mathis Grünewald, Crucifixion (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece). ca. 1513–1514. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
C HAPTER
overlapping of the muscles and nerves on the feet, almost bound by the oval nail: the sooty shadow measures the hollows and depressions with a cartographer’s precision.
We may also get an initial glimpse of Johann Staupitz’s thoughts, particularly evident in the popular and influential sermons given in Salzburg in 1512, just prior to when Mathis began painting the Isenheim panels.40 Staupitz emphasizes the importance of contemplating Christ’s suffering, first externally and then internally, as the key to being able to savor God’s “sweetness”. He dwells (sermon 11) on horrific aspects, such as the extreme tension in Jesus’s crucified body which even leads to the fracturing of his bones,41 or the decomposition of his flesh, but then immediately interprets this from a metaphysical point of view (sermon 7):
From all [of Christ’s] veins and bones his divine blood, which has the taste of the divine mercy, flows out. Nowhere [on his body] is there any wound or opening that would be too small to enter. So enter in and advance to the soul [of Christ] and through his soul to his divinity. There you shall taste and try his most sweet mercy. God may grant this to me and to you. Amen.42
105 | Mathis Grünewald, Crucifixion (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1513–1514. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
113 | Mathis Grünewald, Resurrection of Christ (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
amazed thinking that at the same moment in which Grünewald was painting the Resurrection in Isenheim, Raphael was also planning one that was never realized, but whose preparatory drawing (Bayonne, Musèe Bonnat, inv. 635 [fig. 112]) is filled with ideas in certain ways parallel to those of Grünewald, and later partially included in the Transfiguration 66 Suffice it to say that these two painters, extreme opposites from an aesthetic point of view, were the most profound interpreters, from Germany and Rome, of their era. In essence, this was already said by Roberto Longhi in a passage memorable in a number of ways in Arte italiana e arte tedesca (1941):
129 | Mathis Grünewald, Meeting of the Saints Anthony the Abbott and Paul the Hermite (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514. Colmar, Muséè d’Unterlinden.
132 | Mathis Grünewald, Allegory of the Incarnation (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514–1515. Colmar, Muséè d’Unterlinden.
left behind the buck seen in the clearing to sit at the feet of St. Paul, are all explicit indications of this inclination. The excruciating digging into the human figure is no longer enough for Mathis who, as he was painting the Isenheim Altarpiece began to experience a growth in his artistic ambitions and figurative emancipation.
Often, this face is held to be the portrait of Preceptor Guy Guers, given the advanced age and the fact that at the feet of the saint, his coat of arms is painted on the panel, on the back of a hand mirror leaning against the rock used as a seat [fig. 82]. But the opportune mention of Béguerie-De Paepe of the 1478 Antonite statutes that forbade monks from having beards93 is enough to exclude this possibility.
The face of the elderly St. Paul, busy explaining to his fellow hermit his own, very personal food delivery service,94 also seems more idealized than based on an actual model [fig. 130]. There are noted facial similarities with a drawing in the collection of the Erlangen University Library (black chalk and white lead, partially inked with brown ink, 208 × 150 mm, inv. II F 18), depicting a painter and “authenticated” with the monogram MG and dated 1529, both apocryphal [fig. 131].95 The attribution of the drawing is still uncertain and it received some popularity, including visual, as a
133 | Mathis Grünewald, Allegory of the Incarnation (detail. from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514–1515. Colmar, Muséè d’Unterlinden.
134 | Mathis Grünewald, Allegory of the Incarnation (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514–1515. Colmar, Muséè d’Unterlinden.
135 | Mathis Grünewald, Allegory of the Incarnation (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1514–1515. Colmar, Muséè d’Unterlinden.
146 | Mathis
Grünewald, Temptations of Saint Anthony (from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1515. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
147 | Mathis Grünewald, Temptations of Saint Anthony (detail, from the Isenheim altarpiece), ca. 1515. Colmar, Musée d’Unterlinden.
203 | Mathis Grünewald, Head of a sneering man, ca. 1520. Berlino, Staatliche Museen, Kupferstichkabinett, KdZ 1070 recto.
204 | Mathis Grünewald, Head of a crying man, ca. 1520. Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. KdZ 12319.
205 | Leonardo, Study for the Battle of Anghiari, ca. 1504–1505. Budapest, Szépműveszéti Műzeum, inv. D_1775.
206 | Mathis Grünewald, Female head, ca. 1520. Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Kupferstichkabinett, inv. KdZ 1070 verso.
The nobly melancholic face could be that of the Madonna in adoration, even if it seems, above all, to be a beautiful, serene portrait. Mathis’s portrayal of women appears more intimate, emotional and aware. Whether a calm middle-class matron, a sweet elderly woman, or an ardent young woman in prayer, his depictions no longer represent the elegant manikins of his youthful drawings, but instead pulsating, alive and worldly-wise individuals—not the idealized women of Dürer, or the erotic or necrotic obsessions of Baldung Grien.
The panel painted for the collegiate church in Halle an der Saale, dedicated to St. Maurice, the city’s patron saint, and Mary Magdalene, was installed by 1525, the year which is already mentioned in the inventory. The panel depicts the Meeting of Saints Erasmus and Maurice (Munich, Alte Pinakothek, inv. 1044, 226 × 176 cm) [fig. 207], commissioned by Albrecht von Brandenburg who ordered the inclusion of the coats of
