Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

J >> Julia De Wolf Addison >> Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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The earliest sculptures in France were very rude,--it was rather
a process than an art to decorate a building with carvings as the
Gauls did! But the latent race talent was there; as soon as the
Romanesque and Byzantine influences were felt, a definite school
of sculpture was formed in France; almost at once they seized on
the best elements of the craft and abandoned the worthless, and
the great note of a national art was struck in the figures at
Chartres, Paris, Rheims, and other cathedrals of the Ile de France.

Prior to this flowering of art in Northern France, the churches
of the South of France developed a charming Romanesque of their
own, a little different from that in Italy. A monk named Tutilon,
of the monastery of St. Gall, was among the most famous sculptors
of the Romanesque period. Another name is that of Hughes, Abbot of
Montier-en-Der. At the end of the tenth century one Morard, under
the patronage of King Robert, built and ornamented the Church of St.
Germain des Pres, Paris, while Guillaume, an Abbot at Dijon, was
at the head of the works of forty monasteries. Guillaume probably
had almost as wide an influence upon French art as St. Bernward
had on the German, or Nicola Pisano on that of Italy. In Metz were
two noted architects, Adelard and Gontran, who superintended the
building of fourteen churches, and an early chronicler says that
the expense was so great that "the imperial treasury would scarce
have sufficed for it."

At Arles are two of the most famous monuments of Romanesque art,
the porches of St. Trophime, and of St. Gilles. The latter exhibits
almost classical feeling and influence; the former is much blunter
and more Byzantine; both are highly interesting for purposes
of study, being elaborately ornamented with figure sculptures and
other decorative motives.

Abbot Suger, the art-craftsman par excellence of the Ile de France,
was the sculptor in chief of St. Denis from 1137 to 1180. This
magnificent facade is harmonious in its treatment, betokening plainly
that one brain conceived and carried out the plan. We have not the
names of the minor architects and sculptors who were employed,
but doubtless they were the scholars and followers of Suger, and
rendered work in a similar manner.

There are some names which have been handed down from early times
in Normandy: one Otho, another Garnier, and a third, Anquetil,
while a crucifix carved by Auquilinus of Moissac was popularly
believed to have been created by divine means. If one will compare
the statues of St. Trophime of Arles with those at St. Denis, it
will be found that the latter are better rounded, those at St.
Trophime being coarsely blocked out; although at first glance one
would say that there was little to choose between them.

The old font at Amiens is very ancient, older than the church. It
is seven feet long, and stands on short square piers: it resembles
a stone coffin, and was apparently so made that a grown person
might be baptized by immersion, by lying at full length. Angels
holding scrolls are carved at its four corners, otherwise it is
very plain. There is an ancient Byzantine crucifix at Amiens, on
which the figure of Our Lord is fully draped, and on his head is
a royal crown instead of thorns. The figure, too, is erect, as if
to invite homage by its outstretched arms, instead of suggesting
that the arms had to bear the weight of the body. Indeed, it is a
Christ triumphant and regnant though crucified--a very unusual
treatment of the subject in the Middle Ages. It was brought from the
East, in all probability, by a returning warrior from the Crusades.

The foundation of Chartres was very early: the first Bishop St.
Aventin occupied his see as early as 200 A. D. The early Gothic type
in figure sculpture is always characterized by a few features in
common, though different districts produced varying forms and facial
expressions. The figures are always narrow, and much elongated, from
a monumental sentiment which governed the design of the period. The
influence of the Caryatid may have remained in the consciousness of
later artists, leading them to make their figures conform so far as
expedient to the proportions of the columns which stood behind them
and supported them. In any case, it was considered an indispensable
condition that these proportions should be maintained, and has come
to be regarded as an architectural necessity. As soon as sculptors
began to consider their figures as realistic representations of
human beings instead of ornamental motives in their buildings,
the art declined, and poor results followed.

The west porch of Chartres dates from the twelfth century. The church
was injured by fire in 1194. In 1226 certain restorations were made,
and an old chronicle says that at that time it was quite fire-proof,
remarking: "It has nothing to fear from any earthly fire from this
time to the day of Judgment, and will save from fires eternal the
many Christians who by their alms have helped in its rebuilding."
The whole edifice was consecrated by St. Louis on Oct. 17, 1260.
The King gave the north porch, and several of the windows, and the
whole royal family was present at this impressive function.

About the time of William the Conqueror it became customary to
carve effigies on tombstones, at first simple figures in low relief
lying on flat slabs: this idea being soon elaborated, however,
into canopied tombs, which grew year by year more ornate, until
Gothic structures enriched with finials and crockets began to be
erected in churches to such an extent that the interior of the
edifice was quite filled with these dignified little buildings.
In many instances it is quite impossible to obtain any view of
the sanctuary except looking directly down the central aisle; the
whole ambulatory is often one continuous succession of exquisite
sepulchral monuments.

[Illustration: TOMB OF THE SON OF ST. LOUIS, ST. DENIS]

Perhaps the most satisfying monument of French Gothic style is
the tomb of the elder son of St. Louis at St. Denis. The majesty
of the recumbent figure is striking, but the little procession of
mourners about the main body of the tomb is absolutely unrivalled
in art of this character. The device of little weeping figures
surrounding the lower part of a tomb is also carried out in an exquisite
way on the tomb of Aymer de Valence in Westminster.

Some interesting saints are carved on the north portal of Amiens,
among others, St. Ulpha, a virgin who is chiefly renowned for having
lived in a chalk cave near Amiens, where she was greatly annoyed
by frogs. Undaunted, she prayed so lustily and industriously, that
she finally succeeded in silencing them!

The thirteenth century revival in France was really a new birth;
almost more than a Renaissance. It is a question among archaeologists
if France was not really more original and more brilliant than Italy
in this respect. A glance at such figures as the Virgin from the
Gilded Portal at Amiens, and another Virgin from the same cathedral,
will show the change which came over the spirit of art in that one
city during the thirteenth century. The figure on the right door
of the western facade is a work of the early part of the century.
She is grave and dignified in bearing, her hand extended in favour,
while the Child gives the blessing in calm majesty. This figure has
the spirit of a goddess receiving homage, and bestowing grace: it
is conventional and monumental. The Virgin from the Gilded Portal
is of a later generation. Her attention is given to the Child,
and her aspect is human and spirited,--almost merry. It may be
said to be less religious than the other statue, but it is filled
with more modern grace and charm, and glorifies the idea of happy
maternity: every angle and fold of the drapery is full of life
and action without being over realistic. There is much in common
between this pleasing statue and the Virgins of the Pisani in Italy.

Professor Moore considers the statue of the Virgin on the Portal
of the Virgin at the west end of Notre Dame in Paris as about the
best example of Gothic figure sculpture in France. He says further
that the finest statues in portals of any age are those of the
north porch at Paris. The Virgin here is marvellously fine also.
It combines the dignity and monumental qualities of the first of
the Virgins at Amiens, with the living buoyancy of the Virgin on
the Gilded Portal. It is the clear result of a study of nature
grafted on Byzantine traditions. It dates from 1250.

While sculpture was practised chiefly by monastic artists, it retained
the archaic and traditional elements. When trained carvers from
secular life began to take the chisel, the spirit of the world
entered in. For a time this was a marked improvement: later the
pendulum swung too far, and decadence set in.

A favourite device on carved tympana above portals was the Last
Judgment. Michael with the scales, engaged in weighing souls, was
the tall central figure, and the two depressed saucers of the scales
help considerably in filling the triangular space usually left
over a Gothic doorway. At Chartres, there is an example of this
subject, in which Mortal Sin, typified by a devil and two toads, are
being weighed against the soul of a departed hero. As is customary
in such compositions, a little devil is seen pulling on the side
of the scale in which he is most interested!

One of the most cheerful and delightful figures at Chartres is
that of the very tall angel holding a sun dial, on the corner of
the South tower. A certain optimistic inconsequence is his chief
characteristic, as if he really believed that the hours bore more
of happiness than of sorrow to the world.

There is no limit to the originality and the symbolic messages
of the Gothic grotesques. Two whole books might be written upon
this subject alone to do it justice; but a few notable instances
of these charming little adornments to the stern structures of
the Middle Ages must be noticed here. The little medallions at
Amiens deserve some attention. They represent the Virtues and Vices,
the Follies, and other ethical qualities. Some of them deal with
Scriptural scenes. "Churlishness" is figured by a woman kicking
over her cup-bearer. Apropos of her attitude, Ruskin observes that
the final forms of French churlishness are to be discovered in
the feminine gestures in the can-can. He adds: "See the favourite
print shops in Paris." Times have certainly changed little!

One of these Amiens reliefs, signifying "Rebellion," is that of a
man snapping his fingers at his bishop! Another known as "Atheism"
is variously interpreted. A man is seen stepping out of his shoes at
the church porch. Ruskin explains this as meaning that the infidel
is shown in contradistinction to the faithful who is supposed
to have "his feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace;"
but Abbe Roze thinks it more likely that this figure represents
an unfrocked monk abandoning the church.

One of these displays the beasts in Nineveh, and a little squat
monkey, developing into a devil, is wittily characterized by Ruskin
as reversing the Darwinian theory.

The statues above these little quatrefoils are over seven feet
in height, differing slightly, and evidently portrait sculptures
inspired by living models, adapted to their more austere use in
this situation.

A quiet and inconspicuous example of exquisite refinement in Gothic
bas-relief is to be seen in the medallioned "Portail aux Libraires"
at the Cathedral in Rouen. This doorway was built in 1278 by Jean
Davi, who must have been one of the first sculptors of his time.
The medallions are a series of little grotesques, some of them
ineffably entertaining, and others expressive of real depth of
knowledge and thought. Ruskin has eulogized some of these little
figures: one as having in its eye "the expression which is never
seen but in the eye of a dog gnawing something in jest, and preparing
to start away with it." Again, he detects a wonderful piece of
realism and appreciative work in the face of a man who leans with
his head on his hand in thought: the wrinkles pushed up under his
eye are especially commended.

In the south transept at Amiens is a piece of elaborate
sculpture in four compartments, which are the figures of many saints.
There is a legend in connection with those figures: when the millers
were about to select a patron saint, they agreed to choose the saint
on whose head a dove, released for the purpose, should alight;
but as the bird elected to settle on the head of a demon, they
abandoned their plan! The figures in these carvings are almost
free of the ground; they appear to be a collection of separate
statuettes, the scenes being laid in three or four planes. It is
not restrained bas-relief; but the effect is extremely rich. The
sculptures in high relief, but in more conventional proportion
than these, which occur on the dividing wall between the choir and
the north aisle, are thoroughly satisfactory. They are coloured;
they were executed in 1531, and they represent scenes in the life
of the Baptist. In the panel where Salome is portrayed as dancing,
a grave little monkey is seen watching her from under the table.
The similar screen surrounding the sanctuary at Paris was the work
of the chief cathedral architect, Jean Renoy, with whom worked
his nephew, Jehan le Bouteiller. These stone carved screens are
quite usual in the Ile de France. The finest are at Chartres, where
they go straight around the ambulatory, the whole choir being fenced
in, as it were, about the apse, by this exquisite work. This screen
is more effective, too, for being left in the natural colour of
the stone: where these sculptures are painted, as they usually
are, they suggest wood carvings, and have not as much dignity as
when the stone is fully recognized.

The Door of St. Marcel has the oldest carving on Notre Dame in
Paris. The plate representing the iron work, in Chapter IV., shows
the carving on this portal, which is the same that has Biscornette's
famous hinges. The central figure of St. Marcel himself presents
the saint in the act of reproving a naughty dragon which had had
the indiscretion to devour the body of a rich but wicked lady. The
dragon is seen issuing from the dismantled tomb of this unfortunate
person. The dragon repented his act, when the saint had finished
admonishing him, and showed his attachment and gratitude for thus
being led in paths of rectitude, by following the saint for four
miles, apparently walking much as a seal would walk, beseeching
the saint to forgive him. But Marcel was firm, and punished the
serpent, saying to him: "Go forth and inhabit the deserts or plunge
thyself into the sea;" and, as St. Patrick rid the Celtic land of
snakes, so St. Marcel seems to have banished dragons from fair
France.

[Illustration: CARVINGS AROUND CHOIR AMBULATORY, CHARTRES]

At Chartres there are eighteen hundred statues, and almost as many
at Amiens and at Rheims and Paris. One reason for the superiority
of French figure sculpture in the thirteenth century, over that
existing in other countries, is that the French used models. There
has been preserved the sketch book of a mediaeval French architect,
Vilard de Honcourt, which is filled with studies from life: and why
should we suppose him to be the only one who worked in this way?

Rheims Cathedral is the Mecca of the student of mediaeval sculpture.
The array of statues on the exterior is amazing, and a walk around
the great structure reveals unexpected riches in corbels, gargoyles,
and other grotesques, hidden at all heights, each a veritable work
of art, repaying the closest study, and inviting the enthusiast
to undue extravagance at a shop in the vicinity, which advertises
naively, that it is an "Artistical Photograph Laboratory."

On the door of St. Germain l'Auxerrois in Paris, there is a portrait
statue of St. Genevieve, holding a lighted candle, while "the devil
in little" sits on her shoulder, exerting himself to blow it out!
It is quite a droll conceit of the thirteenth century.

Of the leaf forms in Gothic sculpture, three styles are enough to
generalize about. The early work usually represented springlike
leaves, clinging, half-developed, and buds. Later, a more luxuriant
foliage was attempted: the leaves and stalks were twisted, and
the style was more like that actually seen in nature. Then came
an overblown period, when the leaves were positively detached,
and the style was lost. The foliage was no longer integral, but
was applied.

There is little of the personal element to be exploited in dealing
with the sculptors in the Middle Ages. Until the days of the Renaissance
individual artists were scarcely recognized; master masons employed
"Imagers" as casually as we would employ brick-layers or plasterers;
and no matter how brilliant the work, it was all included in the general
term "building."

The first piece of signed sculpture in France is a tympanum in the
south transept at Paris, representing the Stoning of Stephen. It
is by Jean de Chelles, in 1257. St. Louis of France was a patron of
arts, and took much interest in his sculptors. There were two Jean
de Montereau, who carved sacred subjects in quite an extraordinary
way. Jean de Soignoles, in 1359, was designated as "Macon et Ymageur."
One of the chief "imageurs," as they were called, was Jacques Haag,
who flourished in the latter half of the fifteenth century, in
Amiens. This artist was imprisoned for sweating coin, but in 1481
the king pardoned him. He executed large statues for the city gates,
of St. Michael and St. Firmin, in 1464 and 1489. There was a sculptor
in Paris in the fourteenth century, one Hennequin de Liege, who
made several tombs in black and white marble, among them that of
Blanche de France, and the effigy of Queen Philippa at Westminster.

It was customary both in France and England to use colour on Gothic
architecture. It is curious to realize that the facade of Notre
Dame in Paris was originally a great colour scheme. A literary
relic, the "Voyage of an Armenian Bishop," named Martyr, in the
year 1490, alludes to the beauty of this cathedral of Paris, as
being ablaze with gold and colour.

An old record of the screen of the chapel of St. Andrew
at Westminster mentions that it was "adorned with curious carvings
and engravings, and other imagery work of birds, flowers, cherubims,
devices, mottoes, and coats of arms of many of the chief nobility
painted thereon. All done at the cost of Edmond Kirton, Abbot, who
lies buried on the south side of the chapel under a plain gray
marble slab." H. Keepe, who wrote of Westminster Abbey in 1683,
mentioned the virgin over the Chapter House door as being "all
richly enamelled and set forth with blue, some vestigia of all
which are still remaining, whereby to judge of the former splendour
and beauty thereof." Accounts make frequent mention of painters
employed, one being "Peter of Spain," and another William of
Westminster, who was called the "king's beloved painter."

King Rene of Anjou was an amateur of much versatility; he painted
and made many illuminations: among other volumes, copies of his own
works in prose and verse. Aside from his personal claim to renown
in the arts, he founded a school in which artists and sculptors
were included. One of the chief sculptors was Jean Poncet, who
was followed in the king's favour by his son Pons Poncet. Poor
Pons was something of a back-slider, being rather dissipated; but
King Rene was fond of him, and gave him work to do when he was
reduced to poverty. The monument to his nurse, Tiphanie, at Saumur,
was entrusted to Pons Poncet. After the death of Pons, the chief
sculptor of the court was Jacques Moreau.

CHAPTER VIII

SCULPTURE IN STONE

(_England and Germany_)

A progressive history of English sculpture in stone could be compiled
by going from church to church, and studying the tympana, over
the doors, in Romanesque and Norman styles, and in following the
works in the spandrils between the arches in early Gothic work.
First we find rude sculptures, not unlike those in France. The
Saxon work like the two low reliefs now to be seen in Chichester
Cathedral show dug-out lines and almost flat modelling; then the
Norman, slightly rounded, are full of historic interest and
significance, though often lacking in beauty. The two old panels
alluded to, now in Chichester, were supposed to have been brought
from Selsea Cathedral, having been executed about the twelfth century.
There is a good deal of Byzantine feeling in them; one represents
the Raising of Lazarus, and the other, Our Lord entering the house
of Mary and Martha. The figures are long and stiff, and there is
a certain quality in the treatment of draperies not unlike that
in the figures at Chartres.

Then follows the very early Gothic, like the delightful
little spandrils in the chapter house at Salisbury, and at Westminster,
familiar to all travellers. They are full of life, partly through the
unanatomic contortions by means of which they are made to express
their emotions. Often one sees elbows bent the wrong way to emphasize
the gesture of denunciation, or a foot stepping quite across the
instep of its mate in order to suggest speed of motion. Early Gothic
work in England is usually bas-relief; one does not find the statue
as early as in France. In 1176 William of Sens went over to England,
to work on Canterbury Cathedral, and after that French influence
was felt in most of the best English work in that century. Before
the year 1200 there was little more than ornamented spaces, enriched
by carving; after that time, figure sculpture began in earnest,
and, in statues and in effigies, became a large part of the
craftsmanship of the thirteenth century.

The transition was gradual. First small separate heads began to
obtain, as corbels, and were bracketed at the junctures of the
arch-mouldings in the arcade and triforium of churches. Then on
the capitals little figures began to emerge from the clusters of
foliage. In many cases the figures are very inferior to the faces,
as if more time and study had been given to expressing emotions
than to displaying form. The grotesque became very general. Satire
and caricature had no other vehicle in the Middle Ages than the
carvings in and out of the buildings, for the cartoon had not yet
become possible, and painting offered but a limited scope to the
wit, especially in the North; in Italy this outlet for humour was
added to that of the sculptor.

Of the special examples of great figure sculpture in England the
facade at Wells is usually considered the most significant. The
angel choir at Lincoln, too, has great interest; there is real
power in some of the figures, especially the angel with the flaming
sword driving Adam and Eve from Eden, and the one holding aloft a
small figure,--probably typical of the Creation. At Salisbury, too,
there is much splendid figure sculpture; it is cause for regret
that the names of so few of the craftsmen have survived.

Wells Cathedral is one of the most interesting spots in which to
study English Gothic sculpture. Its beautiful West Front is covered
with tier after tier of heroes and saints; it was finished in 1242.
This is the year that Cimabue was three years old; Niccola Pisano
had lived during its building, Amiens was finished forty-six years
later, and Orvieto was begun thirty-six years later. It is literally
the earliest specimen of so advanced and complete a museum of sculpture
in the West. Many critics have assumed that the statues on the West
Front of Wells were executed by foreign workmen; but there are
no special characteristics of any known foreign school in these
figures. Messrs. Prior and Gardner have recently expressed their
opinion that these statues, like most of the thirteenth century
work in England, are of native origin. The theory is that two kinds
of influence were brought to bear to create English "imagers."
In the first place, goldsmiths and ivory carvers had been making
figures on a small scale: their trade was gradually expanded until
it reached the execution of statues for the outside ornament of
buildings. The figures carved by such artists are inclined to be
squat, these craftsmen having often been hampered by being obliged
to accommodate their design to their material, and to treat the
human figure to appear in spaces of such shapes as circles, squares,
and trefoils. Another class of workers who finally turned their
attention to statuary, were the carvers of sepulchral slabs: these
slabs had for a long time shown the effigies of the deceased. This
theory accounts for both types of figures that are found in English
Gothic,--the extremely attenuated, and the blunt squat statues. At
Wells it would seem that both classes of workmen were employed,
some of the statues being short and some extremely tall. They were
executed, evidently, at different periods, the facade being gradually
decorated, sometimes in groups of several statues, and sometimes
in simple pairs. This theory, too, lends a far greater interest
to the west front than the theory that it was all carried out at
once, from one intentional design.

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