The problem of the Dog-legged Gate, stated simply is—“Why was it built that way?” The structure does not seem to make sense. It contains an extra joint and therefore requires more labor to build for no apparent advantage. The peculiar construction that defines a Dog-legged Gate is unlike the construction of the rustic gates that can be seen throughout the 20th century western United States (and I’ve built a few of them), and which are surely based on the prototypical rustic gate that has been keeping cows or sheep in or out for centuries and which I’m going to call the Standard Gate. Pictorial evidence of the Standard Gate can be found before and after the Era of the Dog-legged Gate (as well as during). What were those farmers thinking when they built those dog-legged gates? And why did they change? These are just some of the topics we will be exploring as we journey to the bottom of the problem of the Dog-legged Gate (and its appearance in paintings about the time of Bosch and Bruegel).
The Dog-legged Gate is visually distinct: the upright hinge-post of the gate is not straight but veers off at a rakish angle to meet the diagonal-- not unlike a dog’s leg, if the dog were standing on his head with his back along the gate-post with his hind leg extended--a clear example can be seen in Fig.{2}, Bosch’s Prodigal Son (Rotterdam, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, ca.1510) directly under the out-stretched hat of the title character, and restraining a cow.
In contrast, on the Standard Gate the hinge-post upright is straight and meets the gate’s diagonal some way above the top rail. An example of this type of gate appears in Rogier van der Weyden, Triptych of the Adoration of the Magi (Munich, Alte Pinakothek, ca. 1455), in the central panel above Mary’s head, through the opening in the wall of the rather sturdy stable, in the middle-distance, directly behind the white horse, Fig. {1}.
Let us now consider an incomplete catalog of some of the interesting examples of this case of curious carpentry known as the Dog-legged gate. Bosch has pictured the gate several times. In the Epiphany in Madrid’s Prado, Fig. {3} we see one in the distance beyond the hovel where poor Joseph is seen doing the laundry and glancing over his shoulder in bewildered resignation at the snappily dressed St. Peter and a kneeling Donor who have come to take in the Mystery of the Baby, along with quite a few other characters. The gate lies beyond a field where some folk appear to be dancing. The painting is dated 1510 by Tolnay and 1490 by Baldass. I always go with Baldass myself. Bosch’s Prodigal Son of 1502 has already been mentioned.
In Bosch’s St. Jerome in Prayer, 1505, [Ghent, Musee des Beaux-Arts], Fig. {4} a small gate can be seen beyond the field almost directly above the Saint’s tonsured and earnest head.
The Temptation of St. Anthony, 1505, Fig. {5} is found in the Prado in Madrid. This particular St. Anthony shows only the upper half of the Saint. Above his left shoulder is a barn with an old ladies head for a hayloft. In the doorway a naked woman appears to be offering herself while in the water in front of her a man appears to be drowning. The Saint may be praying that his loaf of bread gets bigger, if that’s what that is in front of his hands. The dog-legged gate appears behind his right shoulder, between the two buildings at the end of the path. It looks like a nice farm if it weren’t for the insects and the fire they seem to have started.
There may also be such a gate pictured in the upper roundel on the reverse of the panel known as either Hell, or Fall of the Rebel Angels, found in Rotterdam at the Museum Boymans-van Beuningen and dated ca. 1515, Fig. {6}. A man kneels in prayer as his wife runs toward him and the farm goes to hell—the cattle have died, a devil is beating a worker and the barn is on fire. Behind the man’s back may be a gate but then again it might be the roof-line of a shed seen through a fence. In any case the picture was badly damaged when found (it was discovered in the late 1920s) and according to the pictures published in the Museum Boymans-van Beuningen’s own book the reproductions in Bosing and Tolnay show considerable repainting, some in the very region under discussion. The attribution to Bosch has likewise traveled down a rocky road. Friedlander declared the paintings original in 1937; that same year Tolnay expressed the view that they were not by Bosch. Shortly thereafter Baldass made a detailed study and concluded that they were authentic—an assertion borne out by a dating of the wood panels on which the pictures are painted and in a study of the under painting (made visible in an infrared reflectogram) where it was concluded that “those parts which have remained intact bear ample witness to the painter’s (Bosch’s) outstanding talent and brilliant artistry.”
Predating the work of Bosch (and probably unseen by him) Hugo van der Goes painted a dog-legged gate in his Portinari Triptych, center panel The Adoration of the Shepherds, ca. 1475?, Florence, Galleria degli Uffizi, Fig. {7}. The gate can be seen above the out-stretched hand of the dark-haired shepherd.
Besides Bosch and Bruegelther artists who pictured a dog-legged gate include Joachim Patinir, Landscape with Cliffs, ca. 1510—25, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, Rotterdam and the same artist’s St. Christopher, ca. 1520, Escorial, Madrid; Leonhard Beck, St. George and the Dragon, ca. 1515, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna [it is too small to be seen in the reproduction but trust me, I saw it]; Anonymous, Landscape with Ships, Fol. 38 from the “Errera Sketchbook,” sometime after 1535, Museum voor Schone Kunsten van Belgie, Brussels, Fig. {11};
and the same artist (Anonymous) as a sculptor, The saints Ursula, Catharine and Elisabeth of Hungary, early 1500s, Malines, Museum van de Commissie voor Openbare Onderstand, Fig. {12};
Hans Bol, The Four Seasons: Winter, Residenz, Munich, ca. 1584, Fig. {13};
and finally (before getting to Bruegel) Cornelius Massys, The Virgin and St. Joseph arriving at the Inn in Bethlehem, ca. 1538, Staatliche Museen, Berlin-Dahlem.
Bruegel presented us with several dog-legged gates. First to be considered is a drawing dated ca. 1554: Cow Pasture before a Farmhouse, now at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., Fig. {15}, the dog-legged gate can be found left of center, before the farm house, with some folk leaning on it.
Next are a couple of engravings: Nunindae rusticorum, 1556, Bibliotheque Royal Albert I, Brussels and Euntes in Emaus, also 1556 and also in Brussels, Fig. {17}.
In the first there are two dog-legged gates—one left and one right in the middle-distance. In the second picture the gate is near the center, confining some cows.
Winter Landscape with Skaters and a Bird-Trap was painted in 1565, and is in the F. Delporte collection in Brussels, Fig {18}. The dog-legged gate is between the two groups of trees on the left of the picture.
The most prominently pictured dog-legged gate to be found in Bruegel, however, is in the Haymaking, 1565, in the National Gallery, Prague, Fig. {19}. The gate lies in the lower left corner, behind the fellow hammering on his scythe. The gate appears to be hanging from only its top hinge but it doesn’t matter now because there are no cows in the field. This painting is one of the series of the seasons that includes the Harvest (at the Metropolitan Museum, New York) and the Hunters in the Snow (in Vienna).
After Pieter Bruegel the Elder came Pieter Bruegel the Younger and he painted a dog-legged gate in his The Village Fair, Musee de Beaux Arts, Brussels, Fig. {20}. The work is quite derivative of his father’s paintings; the gate is below the boy in the tree and above the central-most red flag. It was probably painted around 1600.
About 1625 an engraving by Schelte a Bolswert, (after a painting by P. P. Rubens), The Return from the Fields, depicts a Standard Gate Fig. {21} and thus brings to a close the Era of the Dog-legged Gate. At least I have not found evidence of them later. Why is that?
At some point the dog-legged gate went extinct and we must find out why. And why did they start up in the first place? I throw the problem out to the B & B Society at large. Obviously, it is important that we solve this problem, not just for our own peace of mind, but for future generations.