666 = Satan’s Song? Part 2: The Just Judges and Otto Rahn

 

Paintings, paintings, and more paintings

The story of Rennes-le-Château is full of paintings: from Poussin, via Teniers, to “acquisitions” that have been added to it in the course of “investigations”. But once upon a time, one of the “Priory of Sion codes” resulted in a statement that Saunière visited Paris and while there, bought reproductions of two paintings. One of these was supposedly a picture of Pope Celestine V, a pope that ruled at the end of the 13th century. Few – if any – were able to make sense of it within the larger context of the Priory mythology.
The painting in question is supposed to be “Allegory of the Coronation of Celestine V”, which is a French painting of the 16th century, located in the Louvre, Paris. There is no history of it as far as who owned or painted it.
As “Mark Harlem”, Hammer suggested that the painting’s real creator was Barthélemy van Eyck, a nephew of Jan van Eyck. Barthélemy van Eyck was “peintre et valet de chambre” (painter and chamberlain) at the court of René d'Anjou – a man who is well-known within the Priory mythology. Although popular belief has it that René d’Anjou illustrated and painted his written manuscripts himself, the professional art opinion is that he could not have possibly done so. Hence, it is felt that “his” works are more likely from the hand of Barthélemy van Eyck. A further intriguing aspect is that René d'Anjou was at the time imprisoned by Duke Philip the Good, whose “peintre et valet de chambre” was Jan van Eyck. It almost seems like a family affaire.

One problem, two points of view

Within the context of the Priory of Sion mythology and the aftermath of The Da Vinci Code, introducing another painter and another painting in the mixture of the legend seems simple enough. Indeed, one might argue that with the choice of Notre-Dame de Marceille and Van Eyck’s painting, Hammer merely copied two aspects of esoteric history and made it his own. Furthermore, Hammer being Dutch, he could easily have been exposed to material that I and others have – since 1996 in private, and 1999 in public –been arguing about, namely that there are unknown aspects to Van Eyck, and specifically to Van Eyck’s Adoration of the Lamb.
Indeed, the above would be the sceptics’ perspective. Hammer on the other hand might argue that, in fact, Tom R. knew that certain paintings held key information, which he then re-used into creating false leads: he substituted Van Eyck for Poussin and Teniers – and da Vinci was automatically added later on. Hence, the core elements of the puzzle remained, but were applied on the wrong painting(s). It is, indeed, a classic disinformation trick and sounds entirely logical – if Tom R.’s story is true.

Templar Revelations

In 1995-6, Clive Prince and Lynn Picknett drew my attention towards paintings that appeared to hint at a certain heretical knowledge that involved John the Baptist. At the time, I highlighted the importance of Jan Van Eyck and his Adoration of the Lamb. Furthermore, the panel depicting John the Baptist had been one of two stolen in 1934 – the other the Just Judges. When the thief entered in correspondence with the authorities, he knew he had to have a means of distinguishing himself from the dozens if not hundreds of claimants, and hence, he surrendered the Baptist panel back to the authorities. However, during the ensuing discussions, the thief argued that though he would dearly like to give the remaining panel back, in return for money, the methodology proposed by the police could not be adhered to. As a result, negotiations floundered and the Just Judges would never be returned, as the negotiator – if not thief – Arsène Goedertier – died shortly afterwards.

At the time, Clive Prince queried whether perhaps the theft of the Baptist panel was a clue in itself as to who was behind it, and whether its return was also a sign (Goedertier could just as well have returned the Just Judges).
In early October 2007, during Karl Hammer’s interview for Radio Rennessence, the theft got discussed, as it forms a large portion of his book. Hammer seemed unaware that I had worked with some of the leading researchers in the field, such as Karel Mortier, and hence I was surprised to find that in his discussion, he hinted that the Just Judges was not the most important panel, but that another panel was very important too. Hammer implied he was unwilling to provide further detail, but I queried whether this was the John the Baptist panel, which surprised him, and to which he did not want to give a reply – though silence, one might suggest, spoke a thousand words. The silence was all the more remarkable as in the book itself, he had explained that both panels seemed to contain a code that lead to the location of the Arma Christi, a “fact” Tom R. had discussed shortly after the war with his CIA handlers. The conclusion that Hammer draws in the book is that Van Eyck was one of the initiates who knew the true whereabouts of the Arma Christi.

Who’s the man?

The Italian 16th century art historian Giorgi Vasari described Van Eyck as “an alchemist”, which suggests that he was exposed to non-orthodox material – which is exactly what the then secret societies were all about. This statement, that Van Eyck was an alchemist, was echoed by Karel van Mander in 1604. One group of modern Freemasons has also noted that Van Eyck is also the only painter who, as far as they have been able to trace, actually depicted a working lodge: a sheltered place at the foot of a tower, in a drawing by Van Eyck of Saint Barbara. Saint Barbara was considered by many to be the patron saint of alchemists (though this was of course never officially ratified by the Church!) and she also features on the Ghent Altarpiece. Saint Barbara, is an important saint in Aragon, and hence, Perillos, where one of the three churches is dedicated to her.

Little if anything is known about the circumstances in which Van Eyck made “The Adoration of the Lamb” – and whether he himself painted it or merely finished the painting that had been started by his brother Hubert, as an inscription on the painting suggests.
What is known, is that in 1430, when Van Eyck was working on his masterpiece, his patron Philip the Good established the Order of the Golden Fleece, a chivalric order based on the English Order of the Garter. The order was created to celebrate Philip’s marriage to the Portuguese princess Isabel of Aviz. Why he settled on the image of the Golden Fleece has never been fully explained. Let us add that Philip the Good himself was interested in alchemy and it is known that in his palace in Brussels, he had asked for the installation of an “alchemical room”.

Clues to the treasure

Philip the Good

Philip had no fixed capital and moved the court between various palaces, the main urban ones being Brussels, Lille and Bruges. He held grand feasts to show off his power to his subjects, and the knights of his Order frequently travelled throughout his territory participating in tournaments.
Van Eyck had entered the service of Philip the Good following the death of John of Bavaria in 1425. He resided in Lille for a year and then moved to Bruges, where he lived until his death in 1440. Intriguingly, where precisely Van Eyck lived in Bruges has never been established.
In 1428, Van Eyck travelled to Portugal to paint King John I's daughter Isabella before Philip married her – the marriage that would result in the creation of the Order of the Golden Fleece. It is a key event, for it is not entirely sure why Van Eyck travelled to Portugal. Hammer adds further speculation on this episode, by claiming Van Eyck was surrounded by cartographers and that this mission was vital in the codification of the whereabouts of the Arma Christi into the painting – which hence did indeed become a treasure map… or treasure painting.

A privileged painter

As a painter and chamberlain, Van Eyck was exceptionally well paid and he felt no need to inscribe himself in the local guild of painters. His annual salary was quite high when he was first engaged, but it doubled twice in the first few years and was often supplemented by special bonuses. An indication that he was held in extraordinarily high regard is a document from 1435, in which the Duke scolded his treasurers for not paying Van Eyck his salary, claiming that Van Eyck would leave and that he would nowhere be able to find his equal in his “art and science”. The use of the word “science” may refer to Van Eyck’s revolutionary painting techniques, but it would suggest knowledge outside the confines of painting.
Though no-one doubts that Van Eyck performed certain missions other than painting portraits for the Duke, the exact nature of these missions is unknown. Finally, it is clear that both men were very close, for the Duke served as godfather to one of Van Eyck's children, supported his widow upon the painter's death and years later helped one of his daughters with the funds required to enter a convent. One could almost argue that the two were like “Brothers”…

The Adoration of the Lamb

If there is any evidence of an “esoteric predisposition” in Van Eyck, it is indeed the “Adoration of the Lamb” that was the only painting where Van Eyck would be able to express it – as all of his other paintings were portraits.
Officially, “The Adoration of the Lamb” is a commission for the Vijdt family, though it is known that Van Eyck, at the time of painting it, was actually employed by Philip the Good. Whereas it would not have been impossible for Vijdt to commission Van Eyck (definitely not if Vijdt was on friendly terms with the Duke), Van Eyck was largely a portrait painter. And a portrait took far less time than the enormous amount of time and energy that Van Eyck spent on painting this altarpiece. It is therefore clear that Vijdt would have had at least the consent of Philip – even if Jan Van Eyck was “merely” completing what Hubert had begun.
Rather than a short diversion of a few weeks or even a few months, this commission would take him years to complete. Would his patron and friend have agreed to such a commission? Or was his patron instead in agreement that this work was somehow special and “had” to be done?

Jesus, but not as we know him

Apart from direct though obscure references to the Knights Templar and John the Baptist, the three central upper panels should be our main focus of attention – though Hammer directs his reader’s attention elsewhere. The altarpiece was closed during the week (revealing the Vijdt family adoring the two Johns), but open on Sundays, when it showed this central upper panel. It had the Virgin Mary to the left, (another depiction of) John the Baptist to the right, with the central figure normally identified as Jesus. Though some elements of this figure could refer to Jesus, other elements clearly refer to God, or a king – the consensus thus opting for “Jesus depicted as king”. But equally, it is noted that though Van Eyck wanted to paint a figure that could be identified – or misidentified – as both Jesus and God, this was actually uncommon in medieval or Gothic paintings.

The Arma Christi, once again

What to think of the presence of the lamb which is bleeding and whose blood is captured in chalices? Are these references to the Holy Grail? For Hammer, the answer is no: in his mind, all the “Weapons of Christ” can be found in this painting and is, to him, an indication that the painting and Van Eyck are relevant to the quest.
Though the list of “esoteric coincidences” is growing longer, the key is actually hidden in one of the tiles of a floor, in which almost invisible and definitely not meant to be obvious to the eye, the word “AGLA” was written. AGLA was a protective magical formula, a Kabbalistic acronym of the biblical phrase “Ateh Gibor Le-olam Adonai”, “The Lord is mighty forever”. And though it may not appear to be much, with the presence of a magical formula, suddenly, it is obvious – proven – that this painting is indeed a magical talisman, in the same category as Bottticelli’s paintings that would inspire some to label him a grandmaster of the mythical Priory of Sion.
But for Hammer – who also uses this key – it is much more than that. He argues that the “Allahists”, these protectors of the Arma Christi, in fact derived their name from Agla, Agla-ists, which was misunderstood to be Allah-ists. They are the secret society that protected the Arma Christi and the incorporation of the word AGLA in the painting is thus seen as further confirmation of Van Eyck’s true allegiance.

Christ, according to Van Eyck

Hammer underlines that the Allahists/Agla-ists/Ebionites have a specific interpretation of Jesus that differs from the “corrupted” and accepted version promoted by the Vatican. Hence, how Van Eyck depicted Jesus – i.e. in an unorthodox, or rather Orthodox, fashion – is of direct interest.
Jesus’ depiction seems to have been inspired by Byzantine iconography – taking us back to the likely origins from where the heretical knowledge entered 14th century Europe. But of specific interest is Revelations 19:12-16: “His eyes [were] as a flame of fire, and on his head [were] many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself. And he [was] clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is called The Word of God. And the armies [which were] in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. And out of his mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. And he hath on [his] vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS.” Though we do not see his thigh, Van Eyck did write a sentence from these verses on this figure’s “vesture” – his mantle – evidence that we are indeed in front of the “King of Kings”…

A preventive theft

Arsène Goedertier

Though dozens of books have been written on the theft of the painting, Hammer does provide a new twist to most proposed “solutions”. He argues that the theft was largely a “preventive theft”: certain people stole it, so that others, who were planning on stealing it, would not get their hands on it. Specifically, Hammer argues that the Nazi regime, and Otto Rahn specifically, were preparing to steal it, in their efforts to discover the Arma Christi and use them for their own nefarious means.
Rahn, of course, is a well-known figure in the story of Rennes-le-Château. Though he is mostly known for his exploits around Montségur, it is known that he personally knew Déodat Roché. As André Douzet, who personally knew Roché and his entourage, has underlined: for a man like Roché to meet with a man whose political points of view he despised, there must have been a very important reason. Some researchers have also alleged that Rahn met with Marie Denarnaud, a statement which is not supported by the most solid of evidence, but which is nevertheless within the realm of the possible.

A first test of faith

Hammer alleges that it was the co-operation between Rahn and his superior Himmler that created the plan to steal the Just Judges. He states that Rahn was in Ghent, on orders of Himmler, in the fall of 1933, in preparation for the theft, which was likely to occur in the spring of 1934 – the actual “preventive theft” occurring on April 10, 1934.
Rahn’s whereabouts are relatively well-known and published by such researchers as Nigel Graddon. Consulting Graddon’s knowledgebase, he never mentions Ghent. One chapter in Graddon’s book, focussing on the period 1933-1935 is titled “a precious treasure”, suggesting that Rahn in that period of his life was indeed looking for something – of which the Arma Christi might have been an (important) part… but that treasure is never identified as such either.
Rahn had returned from France to Germany in early 1933. He corresponded with Gadal in the South of France, often complaining about how poor he was and how busy he was, but at the same time, he was friends with the son of Hjalmar Schacht, one of Hitler’s chief financiers. It was furthermore in the early autumn of 1933 that Rahn completed his first book, “Kreuzzug gegen den Gral” and part of his time that fall was spent promoting the book. Though it is clear that Rahn moved in and through the upper echelons of the Nazi Party and did work for Himmler, there is nothing to suggest that Rahn was in Ghent – though, in theory, it is possible that he could have been.

The larger framework

Otto Rahn

Despite such an apparent setback, Graddon is one of those authors who believes that what Rahn was searching for, was actually linked with the “mystery of Rennes-le-Château” – an intriguing conclusion to draw, and which sits well within the larger framework of Hammer’s work. It is, indeed, a recurring motive in trying to verify Satan’s Song: the feeling that the entire story could be true, but often is contrary to known details on certain aspects. But that despite being “wrong”, somehow, the theory as a whole is not only plausible, but verifiable. This, of course, brings us back to the art of disinformation, or “reverse disinformation”: information? In the case of Satan’s Song, it appears as if the conclusion is true, and can be validated, whereas the individual elements appear to be wrong!

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Filip Coppens