The Blessed

In 1279, the Dominican Frère Laurent wrote (or perhaps compiled) the Somme le roi, a moral treatise on the vices and virtues, for King Philippe III of France. At least 15 copies of the treatise included a variation of this illumination, the Virtue Garden, including this copy from 1295 (Kosmer 1978: 303).

The seven virtues depicted in the garden are the virtues associated with the Beatitudes. But why seven, when there are eight Beatitudes? The Somme follows a tradition laid down in the early fifth century by Saint Augustine of Hippo, who counted them as seven, rather than eight, treating the eighth Beatitude as a recapitulation of the first, since both name the same reward (‘theirs is the kingdom of heaven’). Augustine also, innovatively, paired the seven Beatitudes with the seven petitions of the Lord’s Prayer and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit as found in Isaiah 11. The symbolism of the Virtue Garden springs from these sets of sevens.

Seven trees in the garden represent the seven Beatitudes and their associated virtues—for example, ‘those who mourn’ corresponds to the virtue of patience (Kosmer 1978: 304). An eighth tree in the garden is taller than the rest; its leafy crown breaks through the top frame. The text below the Virtue Garden explains that this one represents Christ, ‘under whom the virtues grow’.

The seven women represent the seven petitions of the Lord’s Prayer; they water the trees with streams of water representing the gifts of the Spirit. In this way, the garden depicts a petition producing a spiritual gift, which in turn ‘waters’ the virtue of each Beatitude. For example, praying ‘Deliver us from evil’ produces the gift of wisdom, which nurtures poverty of spirit (Matthew 5:3), that is, the virtue of humility. According to the Somme, the seven trees (the Beatitudes) bear the fruit of eternal life. Thus, the keeping of the Beatitudes begins in prayer and ends in the reward of eternal happiness with God. In this way, the Virtue Garden points to the necessity of God’s grace and Christ’s help in becoming meek, merciful, and pure in heart.

References

Kosmer, Ellen. 1978. ‘Gardens of Virtue in the Middle Ages’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 41: 302–7

The Ghent Altarpiece is a hinged altarpiece with multiple panels. When open, the five panels of the lower half display various groups approaching in order to worship the slain Lamb (a figure for Christ) in the central panel—a scene known as the Adoration of the Lamb and drawn from Revelation 7:9–17. Original inscriptions (now lost) identified the approaching groups as representatives of the eight Beatitudes (Philip 1971: 105–6).

On the left-hand side of the central panel three groups represent three Beatitudes: those who mourn are the prophets, shown kneeling in the left foreground and holding books representing their prophetic words. Immediately behind them stand those who hunger and thirst for righteousness—the Old Testament patriarchs, in bright multicoloured robes. Off in the distance, toward the top left of the panel, are the confessors (those who suffered persecution for their faith but did not die as martyrs)—these are the peacemakers.

On the right-hand side of the central panel are another three groups: the kneeling twelve apostles (plus Saints Paul and Barnabas) are the poor in spirit. Those persecuted for righteousness’ sake are the martyrs, who stand behind the apostles clothed in the vibrant red of martyrdom. Some bear the symbols of their martyrdom, like Saint Livinus, who holds his tongue in the pincers that tore it out. The pure in heart are the female martyrs and saints, who stand farther off toward the top right of the panel, opposite the confessors.

In the two left-wing panels, to the left of the Adoration of the Lamb, are two groups seated on horses and collectively representing the merciful: just judges on the far left, and next to them knights bearing banners (hinting at the ongoing Crusades). In the right-wing panels are the meek: on the outer right are the pilgrims, led by Saint Christopher (reported to be a giant), and next to them the hermits, including two women in the background (Mary Magdalene and, perhaps, Mary of Egypt).

The Ghent Altarpiece presents us with a puzzle: why are the Beatitudes depicted in a scene from Revelation 7?

Laura James, a contemporary American artist, merges the style of Ethiopian Christian art with scenes from the eighteenth-century American South, when the transatlantic slave trade sold millions of Africans into slavery in the Americas. Not surprisingly, given the cruelty of American plantation slavery, James’s work emphasizes the blessings for the persecuted (Matthew 5:10–12). The connection to Africa also renders James’s use of Ethiopic tradition particularly powerful.

In the large central canvas, a black Christ delivers a snippet from the Sermon on the Mount to groups of assembled enslaved people, many in chains. He gives them the exhortation that follows the blessing on the persecuted: ‘Rejoice and be glad…’ (Matthew 5:12) and then the famous ‘salt and light’ sayings (Matthew 5:13–14). The smaller images surrounding the central scene depict nine (rather than eight) Beatitudes. The two blessings on the persecuted, usually treated together as the eighth and final Beatitude (Matthew 5:10–11), are depicted separately in two scenes at the lower right. One shows a slave auction and the other a man lashing his enslaved fellow while being watched by the white master who commanded him to do so (in the latter, one may understand the persecuted as both the enslaved person receiving the punishment and the one forced to mete it out).

In each scene, those receiving Christ’s blessings are African men and women at various stages of their enslavement, with the exception of a white man (‘the merciful’) who conceals two enslaved people under a blanket in the bottom of his boat. Of all the individual Beatitude scenes, the largest appears just above the central section; those who mourn witness a lynching while two white men observe with folded arms.

Representing Christ as an African places him in solidarity with those enslaved. Unlike them, he is not barefoot, perhaps gesturing ever so quietly to the promise of the black spiritual that ‘All God’s Children Got Shoes’. The work’s title points both to the past (enslaved Africans) and to present-day African American viewers (‘our ancestors’). The message is clear: the suffering enslaved, and their present-day descendants who suffer still, are the blessed.