Balaam and the Ass

This image appears in an illustrated Weltchronik, probably produced in Regensburg, Bavaria, between 1400 and 1410, with a further addition in 1487. It is one of a number of manuscript versions of the Austrian poet Rudolf von Ems’s (c.1200–c.54) compilation of salvific events in world history.

Balaam’s inclusion in a history of salvation points to a positive appreciation on the poet’s part, despite the judgement of the biblical record that Balaam was a bad prophet. We might conclude that Rudolf was looking to Numbers 24:17, where Balaam prophesies that ‘a star shall come out of Jacob, and a sceptre shall rise out of Israel’. Christian tradition took this up as a messianic reference and associated it typologically with the star observed by the Magi.

The artist has shown only the three central figures in the episode—Balaam, the ass, and the angel—and the illustrator subverts the prophet’s dignity in several ways. The viewer is drawn immediately to the fierce intentness of the gazes of prophet, ass, and angel. But while the ass trains her eyes on the angel, and the angel looks directly at Balaam, Balaam’s angle of vision is oblique and suggests that he is not seeing what the ass sees.

Their difference of vision is counterbalanced by the physical similarities that link prophet and creature. The coarse fur of Balaam’s hat is picked out in vertical brush strokes, replicating the hairy ears and straight forelock of the ass. While Jewish men were usually shown by medieval artists wearing round hats tapering to a high point, Polish and Lithuanian Jews were not subjected to the strict identifying dress codes operating in other parts of Europe. Has the Austro-German artist chosen to suggest both Jewish identity and foreignness in this way, consistent with the biblical Balaam who obeys the God of Israel, yet lives far away from the Israelite people?

The angel is caught in flight over the path between schematically painted vineyards. His sword blade points upward, menacingly close to Balaam, but his left hand seems to stretch almost tenderly towards the ass. Perhaps the angel has understood her fear and indignation and is poised to console her by stroking her muzzle.

References

Aust, Cornelia. 2019. ‘From Noble Dress to Jewish Attire: Jewish Appearances in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and the Holy Roman Empire’, in Dress and Cultural Difference in Early Modern Europe, ed. by Cornelia Aust, Denise Klein, and Thomas Weller (Berlin: De Gruyter Oldenbourg), pp. 90–112

Getty. n.d. ‘MS 33 (88.MP.70)’, available at https://www.getty.edu/art/collection/object/103RWQ [accessed 22 July 2024]

Rowe, Nina. 2018. ‘Devotion and Dissent in Late Medieval World Chronicles’, Art History, 41.1: 12–41

[Charles Blakeman window in St Etheldreda’s, Ely Place (1953-1958) depicts the Magi and the angel, with Balaam and the ass in the far left. The star is placed centrally over the angel’s head: https://loandbeholdbible.com/2017/08/19/balaam-foresees-a-star-numbers-221-2425/ ]

Gladwyn K. Bush, nicknamed ‘Miss Lassie’, was a fourth generation Cayman Islander. Self-taught, she began to paint at the age of 62 and had a prolific career until her death in 2003. This extended beyond individual works to her wattle and daub house, decorated with the same vitality evident in her treatment of Balaam and the Ass (1995).

The Cayman National Cultural Foundation honours her as a distinctively Carib artist and has preserved the house, while the National Gallery of the Cayman Islands displays several of her paintings in their collection of ‘Intuitive Art and Early Pioneers’.

The naïve style of her treatment of Balaam and the Ass might suggest to the viewer at first glance, a child-like response to the story. Yet, it is much more than a colourful tableau.

As in the Weltchronik illumination, elsewhere in this exhibition, only the three leading characters appear, arranged in a horizontal plane. Balaam and the angel look towards the viewer, but the ass has apparently unseated Balaam and, with her back turned to him, is forthrightly speaking her mind in the direction of the angel. Her pink tongue extending from her open mouth invites us to imagine her noisy defiance. She is not a frightened animal.

The V-shaped addition to Balaam’s forehead perhaps borrows from depictions of Moses wearing horns—the consequence of the late fourth-century Vulgate mistranslation of a Hebrew word in Exodus 34:29–35, which can mean both ‘shining’ and ‘horned’. Context makes it clear that ‘shining’ is intended, but artistic tradition followed Jerome in turning Moses’s shining face into a horned head. Would Miss Lassie have been inspired by versions of this in locally available books illustrated with western religious art, or has she playfully shown the speaking ass to be more resourceful than the man with animal features?

The angel, clad in white picked out with gold, could credibly adorn a Christmas tree. She is impassive and doll-like, her crown balancing Balaam’s horns.

A glowing sun in a bright blue sky forms a backdrop to the three figures, while a row of sturdy flowering plants in strong colours, echoing the native plant life of the islands, appears in the foreground. A linking motif in the whole composition is the use of yellow-gold in the angel’s costume, the flowers, the labelling of the subject, and in the bolder of the artist’s two signatures. This device traces the dynamic interplay of divine presence, scripture, natural life, and artistic creativity.

References

Jefferson, Lee M. 2023. ‘The Horns of Moses, May 03, 2023’, Bible History Daily, available at https://www.biblicalarchaeology.org/daily/people-cultures-in-the-bible/people-in-the-bible/the-horns-of-moses/ [accessed 22 July 2024]

Rembrandt van Rijn produced his painting of Balaam and the Angel in 1626, four years after his teacher Peter Lastman had addressed the same subject.

Rembrandt introduced a dynamism into his composition that was lacking in Lastman’s by organising all the figures as players in a real-time drama. The angel moves from the right of the canvas to the left, and stands behind the prophet, his sword about to descend. The Moabite representatives move from a distant position to participate in the action. Balaam’s two young servants stand as shadowy presences between them and Balaam on the ass.

Rembrandt’s treatment has elements of sheer comic hyperbole—in Bruce Bernard’s words, ‘the extrovert miller’s son amusing himself’ (Bernard 1988: 282). He has exploited the motif of sight to the full: the professional seer does not see the angel, yet the female animal does, as her wide-open eyes bear witness. Balaam’s eyes, by contrast, are small dark cavities.

What the Moabites and the servants see is cause for embarrassment and consternation. The man who has set out in expensive clothing made of rich fabrics and trimmed with fur is suddenly flailing about on the back of a collapsed donkey, having lost a shoe. Dressed in sober colours, the three turbaned Moabites behind him, one mounted on a well-bred horse and appearing to look down his nose, are eloquent simply by their presence. Should they be surprised? The leather satchel, bulging with papers and a wooden staff, has all the signs that any available aids to divination have been hastily stuffed into it.

The angel is a commanding presence almost against the odds. His muscular build is flimsily covered by a precariously attached white garment and he wears exaggerated wings suggestive of a great bird of prey. The ass is captured in the act of speech, fearful of the blow about to descend on her, yet defiant. The detail of her furry ears and the ruff running the length of her throat perhaps nods to the fur trim on Balaam’s sleeve.

Who speaks and sees truly in this story of a prophet?

References

Bernard, Bruce. 1988. The Bible and Its Painters (London & Sydney: Mcdonald Orbis)