A Nativity that sends shivers down the spine

Hieronymus Bosch was not a natural painter of religious images. His terrifying visions of Hell may have helped to keep congregations on the path of righteousness, but they did not inspire feelings of devotion – which could explain why none of the large altarpieces he painted remained over their altars after his death. In the eyes of the church, his Last Judgments were titillating: one painting showing ‘monstrous creatures from the underworld’ was removed from a church in his native ‘s-Hertogenbosch during his lifetime by officials offended by its orgy of nudity. Even his ‘Adoration of the Magi’ (c.1494) did not stay long above the Antwerp altar for which it was painted; it was snaffled by Philip II for his collection and now hangs with ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’, and ‘The Haywain Triptych’, in the Prado.

Devotees of surrealism who make the pilgrimage to Madrid to worship before these two famous paintings don’t tend to linger over the master’s ‘Adoration’ which – with its dearth of monstrous creatures – appears disappointingly conventional. At first glance it has all the standard ingredients: dilapidated stable, splendid kings, sweet-faced Virgin and Child and, around the corner, a dutiful Joseph – in the absence of a midwife – drying the towel used at the birth over a fire.

So far, so relatively traditional. On closer inspection, though, some elements are missing – there are no angels and, mysteriously, no ox. But more disturbing than these omissions is the addition of what appears to be an extra king. Standing inside the entrance to the stable, between the black king Balthasar and the other two, is a curious figure in a bizarre headdress wearing an off-the-shoulder red cloak and very little else (detail of the central panel below).