Deception and Misdirection: Hieronymus Bosch’s The Conjuror
By Philip McCouat For readers' comments on this article, see here
Introduction: the painting you can’t see
There’s a famous painting by Hieronymus Bosch which you will probably never see in person. It’s locked in a safe, in the Municipal Museum of Saint-Germain-en-Laye in France, and the museum is hardly ever open, except on special occasions.
The painting -- see Fig 1 -- depicts a trickster fooling a gullible spectator with a magic trick involving a disappearing ball, while at the same time making him vomit. Another person (the trickster’s accomplice?) is surreptitiously stealing the spectator’s purse. But there is nothing remotely shocking or obscene about the painting, so why such secrecy?
The answer to this lies in a scandalous event which happened 47 years ago. On 1 December 1978 the painting, valued at that time at the high price of $680,000 – the equivalent of many millions today -- was stolen from the museum in a two-man raid by political extremists (some specify the terrorist faction Action Directe). It was a peculiar coincidence that a painting that depicted a disappearing ball had itself been “disappeared” [1].
Over the next few weeks, the thieves’ attempt to sell the easily-identifiable painting failed until, somehow, it ended up in the home of a policeman, who returned it to the museum on 2 February 1979. From then up to this day, the painting has remained under lock and key “for security reasons”.
All this fuss is even more surprising when you realise that even If you actually did get to see the painting, you would not be looking at the original. The original disappeared centuries ago. The painting at St-Germain is therefore just a copy, and one of many. However, expert opinion, based partly on painting style, quality and timelines, appears to be fairly united in its belief that this is the “best” copy of the original.
You may also be wondering how this extraordinarily valuable 15th century work, copy though it may be, got to be hanging in this rather obscure museum in the first place. The answer seems to be that the painting was donated to the museum two centuries ago, as part of bequest by Louis Ducastel, who was also a council member of the town and mayor in the 1830s. He in turn had inherited it from his father John Ducastel, who was a painter and collector [2].
The answer to this lies in a scandalous event which happened 47 years ago. On 1 December 1978 the painting, valued at that time at the high price of $680,000 – the equivalent of many millions today -- was stolen from the museum in a two-man raid by political extremists (some specify the terrorist faction Action Directe). It was a peculiar coincidence that a painting that depicted a disappearing ball had itself been “disappeared” [1].
Over the next few weeks, the thieves’ attempt to sell the easily-identifiable painting failed until, somehow, it ended up in the home of a policeman, who returned it to the museum on 2 February 1979. From then up to this day, the painting has remained under lock and key “for security reasons”.
All this fuss is even more surprising when you realise that even If you actually did get to see the painting, you would not be looking at the original. The original disappeared centuries ago. The painting at St-Germain is therefore just a copy, and one of many. However, expert opinion, based partly on painting style, quality and timelines, appears to be fairly united in its belief that this is the “best” copy of the original.
You may also be wondering how this extraordinarily valuable 15th century work, copy though it may be, got to be hanging in this rather obscure museum in the first place. The answer seems to be that the painting was donated to the museum two centuries ago, as part of bequest by Louis Ducastel, who was also a council member of the town and mayor in the 1830s. He in turn had inherited it from his father John Ducastel, who was a painter and collector [2].
What the painting depicts
Fig 1: Hieronymus Bosch, The Conjuror (unsigned copy, after 1475), 53 x 65 cms (21 x 26 in), Musée Municipal, St.-Germain-en-Laye, oil on wood
The centre of the painting is dominated by the wooden table. This divides the trickster (on our right) and the onlookers, on our left. The trickster, in a red cloak with black top hat reminiscent of a circus ringmaster, is holding up a shining little ball between his thumb and forefinger. Hanging from his belt is a wicker basket with what looks like an inquisitive owl poking its head up. The trickster’s expression is, to my eyes, rather sly, and he has a slight smirk (Fig 2). His large nose is hooked, a feature traditionally associated with Jews in medieval painting but, by Bosch’s time, more likely a general reference to deceit, equating moral and physical crookedness [3]. At the trickster’s feet is a small dog, dressed in what appears to be a joker’s outfit.
Fig 2: Detail of trickster holding shiny ball
The onlookers represent a cross-section of the public. Notably they include a nun, with her white cowl, and a well-dressed patrician lady whose companion’s hand rests on her shoulder as he points to something, possibly the actions of the thief [4].
Bent over the table, with eyes fixed on the trickster is the dupe, a person of indeterminate gender [5], who is vomiting out what close examination reveals is a glistening dark frog (Fig 3). Drool drips down the dupe’s front. A child crouches at the dupe’s feet, toy whirligig in hand, looking up at the dupe with an expression of bemusement at his/her folly and, maybe, of the credulousness of the other adults.
Bent over the table, with eyes fixed on the trickster is the dupe, a person of indeterminate gender [5], who is vomiting out what close examination reveals is a glistening dark frog (Fig 3). Drool drips down the dupe’s front. A child crouches at the dupe’s feet, toy whirligig in hand, looking up at the dupe with an expression of bemusement at his/her folly and, maybe, of the credulousness of the other adults.
Fig 3: Detail of dupe’s face, with frog and drool
On the extreme left is a spectacled man in a monk-like outfit with a white robe, black jerkin and a brown headdress. He is staring over-innocently up into the sky (or maybe pretending he is blind), as he surreptitiously cuts the dupe’s purse from his belt. Interestingly, he closely resembles the art-fancier in Pieter Bruegel's later The Painter and the Connoisseur (c 1565) [5a].
Fig 4: Detail of thief stealing purse
On the table are two small white upturned containers (one with a small ball on top), a larger brass container, two more balls, a wand, and another frog, which presumably has been previously vomited up by the dupe. A round hoop rests against the front of the table, presumably intended for performing tricks with the dog.
In the background is a high dark wall, ill-kempt, with weeds growing on it, under a glowering sky which gives a claustrophobic effect to the whole scene. At the top left is an obscure circular window, with an indistinct image of a crane perched, looking upwards. There is little else in this background to distract our attention from the action of the trickster.
In the background is a high dark wall, ill-kempt, with weeds growing on it, under a glowering sky which gives a claustrophobic effect to the whole scene. At the top left is an obscure circular window, with an indistinct image of a crane perched, looking upwards. There is little else in this background to distract our attention from the action of the trickster.
A matter of interpretation
As you look at this painting you may notice some oddities. Why is that little owl in the trickster’s basket? Why depict a frog coming out of the dupe’s mouth? And so on. Are these just colourful diversions, or are they intended to signify something deeper and more meaningful?
You may not be surprised to hear that there are numerous views about what Bosch was intending to convey in the painting. Part of the reason for this is that we don’t actually know how true the copy is to the original. Nor do we know who commissioned the painting or where it was supposed to be hung – both factors that would have clarified its purpose. In addition, many of the items in the painting are capable of bearing multiple and conflicting meanings.
With all these reservations in mind, let’s now identify the main interpretations that have been placed on the painting.
#1 An amusing scene of street life?
The first interpretation, and the simplest, is that this is simply a “genre painting” that represents an experience that would commonly be seen on the streets of any town in that era. An entertainer is fooling the public by getting them to gamble on which beaker the little ball was hiding under – a version of the card trick sometimes called the “three-card monte”. Depictions of such a scene have been known for some time. There is even a tarot card which shows a similar scene (Fig 5) --- it is called “The Magus” or “Conjuror” [6], referring to the figure who would later turn up in card games as the Joker [7].
You may not be surprised to hear that there are numerous views about what Bosch was intending to convey in the painting. Part of the reason for this is that we don’t actually know how true the copy is to the original. Nor do we know who commissioned the painting or where it was supposed to be hung – both factors that would have clarified its purpose. In addition, many of the items in the painting are capable of bearing multiple and conflicting meanings.
With all these reservations in mind, let’s now identify the main interpretations that have been placed on the painting.
#1 An amusing scene of street life?
The first interpretation, and the simplest, is that this is simply a “genre painting” that represents an experience that would commonly be seen on the streets of any town in that era. An entertainer is fooling the public by getting them to gamble on which beaker the little ball was hiding under – a version of the card trick sometimes called the “three-card monte”. Depictions of such a scene have been known for some time. There is even a tarot card which shows a similar scene (Fig 5) --- it is called “The Magus” or “Conjuror” [6], referring to the figure who would later turn up in card games as the Joker [7].
Fig 5: Tarot card for Le Bateleur (Magician), Jean Noblet (1650)
The trickster may also be profiting from his supposed associate’s deft picking of the dupe’s pocket. So, the message of the painting, if anything, is that we are expected to smile at the stupidity and gullibility of the dupe, and of the other spectators. And that’s as far as it goes.
This interpretation is echoed by comments made by Adrian Maben, a filmmaker of Bosch's life and work, who is quoted as saying “It's a secular painting and has got away from the moralising and religious pose which one normally associates with Bosch. This genre painting became very popular in the Netherlands and the north in general, because it was opposed to the mythological painting of Italy. Here you had scenes from everyday life, it was getting away from the porcelain-like saints, down into the street. I think it was very modern" [8].
#2 A prudent warning?
The second interpretation, a little more layered, is that the painting is intended to be a lesson in commonsense and morality. Thus, the painting is said to exemplify various proverbs and homilies. For example, the Flemish proverb “He who lets himself be fooled by a conjuring trick loses his money and become the laughingstock of children” [9] is in fact quite specifically acted out in the painting, right down to the laughing child who crouches next to the table, looking up with the clarity of childhood, bemused at the dupe’s vomiting. As another proverb popular at that time says, “No one is so much a fool as a wilful fool”.
According to this interpretation, Bosch was not just depicting a humorous street performance, but was specifically warning people of the moral and financial folly of being tricked by charlatans. This interpretation is supported by a later engraving of the painting (Fig 6), which includes the following homily in the top right corner:
“O dear, what jugglers where are found In the world
Who with their conjuror’s bags can work miracles
And with their sly inventions make people
Spew forth wonders on the table by which they earn a living
Therefor trust them not at any time
For, if you lose your purse, it would rue thee” [10].
This interpretation is echoed by comments made by Adrian Maben, a filmmaker of Bosch's life and work, who is quoted as saying “It's a secular painting and has got away from the moralising and religious pose which one normally associates with Bosch. This genre painting became very popular in the Netherlands and the north in general, because it was opposed to the mythological painting of Italy. Here you had scenes from everyday life, it was getting away from the porcelain-like saints, down into the street. I think it was very modern" [8].
#2 A prudent warning?
The second interpretation, a little more layered, is that the painting is intended to be a lesson in commonsense and morality. Thus, the painting is said to exemplify various proverbs and homilies. For example, the Flemish proverb “He who lets himself be fooled by a conjuring trick loses his money and become the laughingstock of children” [9] is in fact quite specifically acted out in the painting, right down to the laughing child who crouches next to the table, looking up with the clarity of childhood, bemused at the dupe’s vomiting. As another proverb popular at that time says, “No one is so much a fool as a wilful fool”.
According to this interpretation, Bosch was not just depicting a humorous street performance, but was specifically warning people of the moral and financial folly of being tricked by charlatans. This interpretation is supported by a later engraving of the painting (Fig 6), which includes the following homily in the top right corner:
“O dear, what jugglers where are found In the world
Who with their conjuror’s bags can work miracles
And with their sly inventions make people
Spew forth wonders on the table by which they earn a living
Therefor trust them not at any time
For, if you lose your purse, it would rue thee” [10].
Fig 6: 16th century engraving of copy of Hieronymus Bosch ‘The Conjuror’
Supporting this view is the suggestion that the various creatures in the painting -- the owl, the dog and the frog -- all had negative connotations in the indigenous folklore of the Netherlands, being associated with darkness, credulity, secrecy and greed [11].
#3 A depiction of sacrilege and heresy?
The third, more serious, interpretation suggests that the painting is not just a warning about mere folly, but about positively sinful and heretical behaviour. On this interpretation, the scene depicted in Conjuror can be likened to an evildoer’s perverted version of a priest conducing a Christian mass [12]. It is perverted because a mere trickster has taken the place of the priest, is resorting to magic and trickery instead of faith, and has induced his fooled audience, even including a nun, into the folly of false belief. On this interpretation, Bosch is attacking the folly of a belief in heretical and false dogma, and is adopting the role of “a defender of Christian orthodoxy and traditional beliefs about sin and the dire consequences that faced those who deviate”. What the dupe stands to lose here is not just purse and self-esteem -- they stand to lose their soul [13].
Certainly, we can see some similarities between the trickster’s performance and a religious event. Elina Gertsman, for example, notes that it is similar to many woodcut depictions of Christ performing miracles and addressing a crowd, and it is possible to identify some specific features suggesting that the painting has a profound religious aspect [14]. These include:
#3 A depiction of sacrilege and heresy?
The third, more serious, interpretation suggests that the painting is not just a warning about mere folly, but about positively sinful and heretical behaviour. On this interpretation, the scene depicted in Conjuror can be likened to an evildoer’s perverted version of a priest conducing a Christian mass [12]. It is perverted because a mere trickster has taken the place of the priest, is resorting to magic and trickery instead of faith, and has induced his fooled audience, even including a nun, into the folly of false belief. On this interpretation, Bosch is attacking the folly of a belief in heretical and false dogma, and is adopting the role of “a defender of Christian orthodoxy and traditional beliefs about sin and the dire consequences that faced those who deviate”. What the dupe stands to lose here is not just purse and self-esteem -- they stand to lose their soul [13].
Certainly, we can see some similarities between the trickster’s performance and a religious event. Elina Gertsman, for example, notes that it is similar to many woodcut depictions of Christ performing miracles and addressing a crowd, and it is possible to identify some specific features suggesting that the painting has a profound religious aspect [14]. These include:
- a figure with a raised hand (similar to the trickster; Fig 2) is a standard trope for depictions of Christ performing a miracle on one side of the picture and addressing a crowd on the other side
- the round, hypnotically shiny object held up by the trickster between his thumb and index finger, with the rest of the fingers extended, corresponds to the gesture prescribed for the priest during a “real” mass as he holds the host at the moment of consecration [15]
- the dupe’s vomiting up of frogs (Fig 3) reflects earlier woodcuts of Christ casting out demons by having them jump out of men’s mouths. Jeffery Hamburger also suggests that the fact that it was a frog being vomited has particular significance, arguing that “frogs conjured up in the medieval mind a broad range of associations, nearly all of them evil and demonic” [16]. Vomiting of frogs was even mentioned in the Bible, which refers to “unclean spirits like frogs emerging from the mouth of the beast” (Book of Revelation/ The Apocalypse16: I3)
- the table bisecting the painting appears to mimic an altar or preacher’s lectern, though populated by the trickster’s paraphernalia. Even the gold hoop against the side of the table can possibly be seen as a halo that has been cast aside.
Fig 7: Detail of Hieronymus Bosch, The Temptation of St Anthony, central panel (c 1500)
Hamburger says that these similarities are important, because in St Anthony, Bosch’s intention is “unambiguously” clear -- he is contrasting the “true mass” and altar, to which St Anthony points, to the false table with its obvious symbols of evil and corruption [18]. A similar interpretation, he argues, should therefore be applied to Conjuror.
#4 An attack on the Church?
Of course, it is also possible that the anti-mass that is arguably depicted in Conjuror can be interpreted not just as a warning to potential dupes against evil beliefs, but also as a warning to the Church itself not to slip into unchristian practices. So, for example, the Hagens suggest that the thief is dressed in a robe that “strongly resembles” the habit of a lay brother of the Dominican order, which officially controlled the feared and controversial Inquisition. Bosch may therefore have intended that the painting was attacking their Inquisitorial role, or their association with oppressing the people and stealing their money [19]. The presence of the nun in the audience might also be interpreted as indicating that the church itself has been blinded.
#5 A matter of retribution?
There is another factor which further muddies the waters. As previously mentioned, there are numerous copies or versions of the painting, and they are still being discovered, even as recently as in 2016. The most interesting of these, currently in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, is a significantly expanded version of the St-Germain painting, and it may add to our interpretation of what Bosch may have been intending to say, or what people at the time thought he was saying [20].
#4 An attack on the Church?
Of course, it is also possible that the anti-mass that is arguably depicted in Conjuror can be interpreted not just as a warning to potential dupes against evil beliefs, but also as a warning to the Church itself not to slip into unchristian practices. So, for example, the Hagens suggest that the thief is dressed in a robe that “strongly resembles” the habit of a lay brother of the Dominican order, which officially controlled the feared and controversial Inquisition. Bosch may therefore have intended that the painting was attacking their Inquisitorial role, or their association with oppressing the people and stealing their money [19]. The presence of the nun in the audience might also be interpreted as indicating that the church itself has been blinded.
#5 A matter of retribution?
There is another factor which further muddies the waters. As previously mentioned, there are numerous copies or versions of the painting, and they are still being discovered, even as recently as in 2016. The most interesting of these, currently in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, is a significantly expanded version of the St-Germain painting, and it may add to our interpretation of what Bosch may have been intending to say, or what people at the time thought he was saying [20].
Fig 8: The Conjuror (The Prestigitator),16th century, copy after Hieronymus Bosch, Philadelphia Museum of Art
In this Philadelphia version, the scene of the trickster and onlookers, so central in the St- Germain painting, is relegated to just the left-hand side of the canvas, with the right side being devoted to a completely new scene of activity. This shows three men sitting at a table. The one on the left has his head thrown back, possibly snoozing, reminiscent of the sky-gazing thief. The other two men are chatting, one gesturing towards the sleeper, the other wearing a high pointed hat [21]. Beyond them is a dark room, and a partial grill, on top of which sits the ever-present owl. Behind the grill, an ox is reading or singing from a choir book. Going back to the centre of the painting, beyond the high dark wall is a town scene with a gibbet and a culprit apparently about to be hanged.
Make of all this what you will, but it may be somehow suggesting that someone is paying for their sins [22]. One speculation along these lines is that the additional scene telescopes a number of incidents that take place in the future – the lazily sleeping man is the thief, the gesturing man is informing on him to the bailiff, leading to a prison sentence (maybe represented by the bars of the grill), and ultimately execution on the gibbet.
Make of all this what you will, but it may be somehow suggesting that someone is paying for their sins [22]. One speculation along these lines is that the additional scene telescopes a number of incidents that take place in the future – the lazily sleeping man is the thief, the gesturing man is informing on him to the bailiff, leading to a prison sentence (maybe represented by the bars of the grill), and ultimately execution on the gibbet.
Conclusion
Trying to draw conclusions from this fundamentally confused situation is fraught. The basic problem, which cannot be escaped, is that we really don’t know what the real original looked like, and we are reduced to informed speculation based on subsequent versions or copies. For myself, I have to be content that we can at least discern the various possible interpretations, form our own subjective opinions, and be prepared to just live with the uncertainty.
© Philip McCouat (2025). First published March 2025
This article may be cited as Philip McCouat, “Deception and Misdirection: Hieronymus Bosch’s The Conjuror”, Journal of Art in Society, April 2025
We welcome your comments on this article here.
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© Philip McCouat (2025). First published March 2025
This article may be cited as Philip McCouat, “Deception and Misdirection: Hieronymus Bosch’s The Conjuror”, Journal of Art in Society, April 2025
We welcome your comments on this article here.
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End Notes
[1] “The Conjuror Vanished”, Radio France website, radiofrance, 1 January 2017. The French title for the painting is L’Escamoteur which includes the idea of spiriting something away from you without your noticing. The theft is therefore sometimes half-jokingly referred to as “L'Escamoteur escamoté”]
[2] Blandine Landau & Ors, Tours et Détours de L’Escamoteur de Bosch à Nos Jours (Exhibition catalogue), 2016
[3] Jeffrey Hamburger, “Bosch’s ‘Conjuror’: An Attack on Magic and Sacramental Heresy” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 14, no. 1 (1984): 5, at 16
[4] It has also been suggested, unconvincingly, that he is fondling the woman or stealing her necklace].
[5] Though often identified as female
[5a] https://gerryco23.wordpress.com/2015/07/05/bruegel-in-vienna-part-3-peasant-bruegel/
[6] French “le Bateleur”), referring to the figure who would later turn up in card games as the “Joker”
[7] Rose-Marie and Rainer Hagen, “Hocus-pocus, Inquisition and Demons”, in What Great Paintings Say, Vol 1, Taschen, Cologne, 2003, 68, at 73
[8] “Bosch”, BBC Documentaries, 3 May 2006
[9] Elina Gertsman, "Illusion and Deception: Construction of a Proverb in Hieronymus Bosch's The Conjurer", Athanor, Vol 22 (2004) 31, at 32
[10] Translation by JG van Gelder, in L Brand Philip. “The ‘Peddler’ by Hieronymus Bosch, a Study in Detection” in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (NKJ) / Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 9 (1958, 1. The engraving, which dates about 50 years later than the original, differs in some ways. First, it introduces an extra figure at far left, who is evidently assisting the thief with extracting the dupe’s purse. The dark background wall has been reduced, and we can see buildings and countryside beyond the trickster
[11] Gertsman, op cit
[12] Gertsman, op cit
[13] Hamburger, op cit at 17
[14} Gertsman, op cit
[15] Hamburger, op cit
[16] Hamburger, op cit at 8
[17] Hamburger, op cit
[18] Hamburger, op cit at 7,13
[19] Hagen, op cit at 70, 71
[20] I refer to this painting as a “version”, not a copy, as it is so extensively altered by additional content. Another copy/version, currently in Israel, appears to be a cut-down version of the Philadelphia painting
[21] The hat is vaguely suggestive of a victim of the Inquisition
[22] L Brand Philip. “The ‘Peddler’ by Hieronymus Bosch, a Study in Detection” in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (NKJ) / Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 9 (1958): 1, at 29,37.
© Philip McCouat (2025). First published March 2025
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[2] Blandine Landau & Ors, Tours et Détours de L’Escamoteur de Bosch à Nos Jours (Exhibition catalogue), 2016
[3] Jeffrey Hamburger, “Bosch’s ‘Conjuror’: An Attack on Magic and Sacramental Heresy” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History of Art 14, no. 1 (1984): 5, at 16
[4] It has also been suggested, unconvincingly, that he is fondling the woman or stealing her necklace].
[5] Though often identified as female
[5a] https://gerryco23.wordpress.com/2015/07/05/bruegel-in-vienna-part-3-peasant-bruegel/
[6] French “le Bateleur”), referring to the figure who would later turn up in card games as the “Joker”
[7] Rose-Marie and Rainer Hagen, “Hocus-pocus, Inquisition and Demons”, in What Great Paintings Say, Vol 1, Taschen, Cologne, 2003, 68, at 73
[8] “Bosch”, BBC Documentaries, 3 May 2006
[9] Elina Gertsman, "Illusion and Deception: Construction of a Proverb in Hieronymus Bosch's The Conjurer", Athanor, Vol 22 (2004) 31, at 32
[10] Translation by JG van Gelder, in L Brand Philip. “The ‘Peddler’ by Hieronymus Bosch, a Study in Detection” in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (NKJ) / Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 9 (1958, 1. The engraving, which dates about 50 years later than the original, differs in some ways. First, it introduces an extra figure at far left, who is evidently assisting the thief with extracting the dupe’s purse. The dark background wall has been reduced, and we can see buildings and countryside beyond the trickster
[11] Gertsman, op cit
[12] Gertsman, op cit
[13] Hamburger, op cit at 17
[14} Gertsman, op cit
[15] Hamburger, op cit
[16] Hamburger, op cit at 8
[17] Hamburger, op cit
[18] Hamburger, op cit at 7,13
[19] Hagen, op cit at 70, 71
[20] I refer to this painting as a “version”, not a copy, as it is so extensively altered by additional content. Another copy/version, currently in Israel, appears to be a cut-down version of the Philadelphia painting
[21] The hat is vaguely suggestive of a victim of the Inquisition
[22] L Brand Philip. “The ‘Peddler’ by Hieronymus Bosch, a Study in Detection” in Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (NKJ) / Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 9 (1958): 1, at 29,37.
© Philip McCouat (2025). First published March 2025
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