Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

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Jean Troupin, a "simple workman at the wages of three sous a day,"
was added to the staff of workers in 1516, and in one of the stalls
he has carved his own portrait, with the inscription, "Jan Troupin,
God take care of thee." In 1522 the entire work was completed, and
was satisfactorily terminated on St. John's day, representing the
entire labour of six or eight men for about fourteen years.

In the fifteenth century Germany led all countries in the art of
wood carving. Painting was nearly always allied to this art in
ecclesiastical use. The sculptured forms were gilded and painted,
and, in some cases, might almost be taken for figures in faience,
so high was the polish. Small altars, with carved reredos and
frontals, were very popular, both for church and closet. The style
employed was pictorial, figures and scenes being treated with great
naturalism. One of the famous makers of such altar pieces was Lucas
Moeser, in the earlier part of the fifteenth century. A little later
came Hans Schuelein, and then followed Freidrich Herlin, who carved
the fine altar in Rothenburg. Jorg Syrlin of Ulm and his son of the
same name cover the latter half of the century.

Bavaria was the chief province in which sculptors in wood flourished.
The figures are rather stumpy sometimes, and the draperies rather
heavy and lacking in delicate grace, but the works are far more
numerous than those of other districts, and vary enormously in
merit.

Then followed the great carvers of the early Renaissance--Adam
Kraft, and Veit Stoss, contemporaries of Peter Vischer and Albrecht
Duerer, whom we must consider for a little, although they hardly
can be called mediaeval workmen.

Veit Stoss was born in the early fifteenth century, in Nueremberg.
He went to Cracow when he was about thirty years of age, and spent
some years working hard. He returned to his native city, however,
in 1496, and worked there for the rest of his life. A delicate
specimen of his craft is the Rosenkranztafel, a wood carving in
the Germanic Museum, which exhibits medallions in relief, representing
the Communion of Saints, with a wreath of roses encircling it. Around
the border of this oblong composition there are small square reliefs,
and a Last Judgment which is full of grim humour occupies the lower
part of the space. Among the amusing incidents represented, is that
of a redeemed soul, quite naked, climbing up a vine to reach heaven,
in which God the Father is in the act of "receiving" Adam and Eve,
shaking hands most sociably! The friends of this aspiring climber
are "boosting" him from below; the most deliciously realistic proof
that Stoss had no use for the theory of a winged hereafter!

Veit Stoss was a very versatile craftsman. Besides his wonderful
wood carvings, for which he is chiefly noted, he was a bridge-builder,
a stone-mason, a bronze caster, painter of altars, and engraver on
copper! Like all such variously talented persons, he suffered somewhat
from restlessness and preferred work to peace,--but his compensation
lay in the varied joys of creative works. His naturalism was marked
in all that he did: a naive old chronicler remarks that he made
some life-sized coloured figures of Adam and Eve, "so fashioned
that one was _afraid_ that they were alive!" Veit Stoss was an
interesting individual. He was not especially moral in all his ways,
narrowly escaping being executed for forgery; but his brilliancy as
a technician was unsurpassed. He lived until 1533, when he died
in Nueremberg as a very old man. One of his most delightful
achievements is the great medallion with an open background, which
hangs in the centre of the Church of St. Lorenz. It shows two large
and graceful figures,--Mary and the Angel Gabriel, the subject
being the Annunciation. A wreath of angels and flowers surrounds
the whole, with small medallions representing the seven joys of the
Virgin. It is a masterly work, and was presented by Anton Tucher
in 1518. Veit Stoss was the leading figure among wood carvers of
the Renaissance, although Albrecht Duerer combined this with his
many accomplishments, as well.

Some of the carvings in wood in the chapel of Henry VII. at Westminster,
are adapted from drawings by Albrecht Duerer, and are probably the
work of Germans. Two of these, Derrick van Grove and Giles van
Castel, were working at St. George's, Windsor, about the same time.

The very finest example of Nueremberg carving, however, is the famous
wooden Madonna, which has been ascribed to Peter Vischer the Younger,
both by Herr von Bezold and by Cecil Headlam. It seems very reasonable
after a study of the other works of this remarkable son of Peter
Vischer, for there is no other carver of the period, in all Nueremberg,
who could have executed such a flawlessly lovely figure.

One of the noted wood carvers in Spain in the Renaissance, was
Alonso Cano. He was a native of Granada and was born in 1601. His
father was a carver of "retablos," and brought the boy up to follow
his profession. Cano was also a painter of considerable merit, but
as a sculptor in wood he was particularly successful. His first
conspicuous work was a new high altar for the church of Lebrija,
which came to him on account of the death of his father, who was
commencing the work in 1630, when his life was suddenly cut off.
Alonso made this altar so beautifully, that he was paid two hundred
and fifty ducats more than he asked! Columns and cornices are arranged
so as to frame four excellent statues. These carvings have been
esteemed so highly that artists came to study them all the way from
Flanders. The altar is coloured, like most of the Spanish retablos.
Cano was a pugnacious character, always getting into scrapes, using
his stiletto, and being obliged to shift his residence on short
notice. It is remarkable that his erratic life did not interfere with
his work, which seems to have gone calmly on in spite of domestic and
civic difficulties. Among his works at various places, where his
destiny took him, was a tabernacle for the Cathedral of Malaga.
He had worked for some time at the designs for this tabernacle,
when it was whispered to him that the Bishop of Malaga intended
to get a bargain, and meant to beat him down in his charges. So,
packing up his plans and drawings, and getting on his mule. Cano
observed, "These drawings are either to be given away for nothing,
or else they are to bring two thousand ducats." The news of his
departure caused alarm among those in authority, and he was urged
to bring back the designs, and receive his own price.

Cano carved a life-size crucifix for Queen Mariana, which she presented
to the Convent of Monserrati at Madrid. Alonso Cano entered the
Church and became canon of the Cathedral of Granada. But all his
talents had no effect upon his final prosperity: he died in extreme
want in 1667, the Cathedral records showing that he was the recipient
of charity, five hundred reals being voted to "the canon Cano,
being sick and very poor, and without means to pay the doctor."
Another record mentions the purchase of "poultry and sweet-meats"
also for him.

Cano made one piece of sculpture in marble, a guardian angel for
the Convent at Granada, but this no longer exists. Some of his
architectural drawings are preserved in the Louvre. Ford says that
his St. Francesco in Toledo is "a masterpiece of cadaverous ecstatic
sentiment."

The grotesques which played so large a part in church art are bewailed
by St. Bernard: "What is the use," he asks, "of those absurd
monstrosities displayed in the cloisters before the reading monks?...
Why are unclean monkeys and savage lions, and monstrous centaurs
and semi-men, and spotted tigers, and fighting soldiers, and
pipe-playing hunters, represented?" Then St. Bernard inadvertently
admits the charm of all these grotesques, by adding: "The variety
of form is everywhere so great, that marbles are more pleasant
reading than manuscripts, and the whole day is spent in looking
at them instead of in meditating on the law of God." St. Bernard
concludes with the universal argument: "Oh, God, if one is not
ashamed of these puerilities, why does not one at least spare the
expense?" A hundred years later, the clergy were censured by the
Prior de Coinsi for allowing "wild cats and lions" to stand equal
with the saints.

[Illustration: MISERERE STALL; AN ARTISAN AT WORK]

The real test of a fine grotesque--a genuine Gothic monster--is, that
he shall, in spite of his monstrosity, retain a certain anatomical
consistency: it must be conceivable that the animal organism could
have developed along these lines. In the thirteenth century, this
is always possible; but in much later times, and in the Renaissance,
the grotesques simply became comic and degraded, and lacking in
humour: in a later chapter this idea will be developed further.

The art of the choir stalls and miserere seats was a natural ebullition
of the humourous instinct, which had so little opportunity for
exploiting itself in monastic seclusion. The joke was hidden away,
under the seat, out of sight of visitors, or laymen: inconspicuous,
but furtively entertaining. There was no self-consciousness in its
elaboration, it was often executed for pure love of fun and whittling;
and for that very reason embodies all the most attractive qualities of
its art. There was no covert intention to produce a genre history of
contemporary life and manners, as has sometimes been claimed. These
things were accidentally introduced in the work, but the carvers
had no idea of ministering to this or any other educational theory.
Like all light-hearted expression of personality, the miserere
stalls have proved of inestimable worth to the world of art, as a
record of human skill and genial mirth.

[Illustration: MISERERE STALL, ELY: NOAH AND THE DOVE]

A good many of the vices of the times were portrayed on the miserere
seats. The "backbiter" is frequently seen, in most unlovely form,
and two persons gossiping with an "unseen witness" in the shape
of an avenging friend, looking on and waiting for his opportunity
to strike! Gluttons and misers are always accompanied by familiar
devils, who prod and goad them into such sin as shall make them
their prey at the last. Among favourite subjects on miserere seats
is the "alewife." No wonder ale drinking proved so large a factor in
the jokes of the fraternity, for the rate at which it was consumed,
in this age when it took the place of both tea and coffee, was
enormous. The inmates of St. Cross Hospital, Winchester, who were
alluded to as "impotents," received daily one gallon of beer each,
with two extra quarts on holidays! If this were the allowance of
pensioners, what must have been the proportion among the well-to-do?
In 1558 there is a record of a dishonest beer seller who gave only a
pint for a penny drink, instead of the customary quart! The subject
of the alewife who had cheated her customers, being dragged to hell
by demons, is often treated by the carvers with much relish, in
the sacred precincts of the church choir!

[Illustration: MISERERE STALL; THE FATE OF THE ALE-WIFE]

At Ludlow there is a relief which shows the unlucky lady carried
on the back of a demon, hanging with her head upside down, while a
smiling "recording imp" is making notes in a scroll concerning her!
In one of the Chester Mysteries, the Ale Wife is made to confess
her own shortcomings:

"Some time I was a taverner,
A gentle gossip and a tapster,
Of wine and ale a trusty brewer,
Which woe hath me wrought.

Of cans I kept no true measure,
My cups I sold at my pleasure,
Deceiving many a creature,
Though my ale were nought!"

There is a curious miserere in Holderness representing a nun between
two hares: she is looking out with a smile, and winking!

At Ripon the stalls show Jonah being thrown to the whale, and the
same Jonah being subsequently relinquished by the sea monster. The
whale is represented by a large bland smiling head, with gaping
jaws, occurring in the midst of the water, and Jonah takes the
usual "header" familiar in mediaeval art, wherever this episode is
rendered.

A popular treatment of the stall was the foliate mask; stems issuing
from the mouth of the mask and developing into leaves and vines.
This is an entirely foolish and unlovely design: in most cases
it is quite lacking in real humour, and makes one think more of
the senseless Roman grotesques and those of the Renaissance. The
mediaeval quaintness is missing.

At Beverly a woman is represented beating a man, while a dog is
helping himself out of the soup cauldron. The misereres at Beverly
date from about 1520.

Animals as musicians, too, were often introduced,--pigs playing
on viols, or pipes, an ass performing on the harp, and similar
eccentricities may be found in numerous places, while Reynard the
Fox in all his forms abounds.

The choir stalls at Lincoln exhibit beautiful carving
and design: they date from the fourteenth century, and were given by
the treasurer, John de Welburne. There are many delightful miserere
seats, many of the selections in this case being from the legend
of Reynard the Fox.

Abbot Islip of Westminster was a great personality, influencing
his times and the place where his genius expressed itself. He was
very constant and thorough in repairing and restoring at the Abbey,
and under his direction much fine painting and illuminating were
accomplished. The special periods of artistic activity in most of
the cathedrals may be traced to the personal influence of some
cultured ecclesiastic.

A very beautiful specimen of English carving is the curious oak
chest at York Cathedral, on which St. George fighting the dragon
is well rendered. However, the termination of the story differs
from that usually associated with this legend, for the lady leads
off the subdued dragon in a leash, and the very abject crawl of
the creature is depicted with much humour.

Mediaeval ivory carving practically commenced with the fourth century;
in speaking of the tools employed, it is safe to say that they
corresponded to those used by sculptors in wood. It is generally
believed by authorities that there was some method by which ivory
could be taken from the whole rounded surface of the tusk, and then,
by soaking, or other treatment, rendered sufficiently malleable to
be bent out into a large flat sheet: for some of the large mediaeval
ivories are much wider than the diameter of any known possible tusk.
There are recipes in the early treatises which tell how to soften
the ivory that it may be more easily sculptured: in the Mappae
Clavicula, in the twelfth century, directions are given for preparing
a bath in which to steep ivory, in order to make it soft. In the
Sloane MS. occurs another recipe for the same purpose.

Ahab's "ivory house which he made" must have been either covered
with a very thin veneer, or else the ivory was used as inlay, which
was often the case, in connection with ebony. Ezekiel alludes to
this combination. Ivory and gold were used by the Greeks in their
famous Chryselephantine statues, in which cases thin plates of
ivory formed the face, hands, and exposed parts, the rest being
overlaid with gold, This art originated with the brothers Dipoenus
and Scillis, about 570 B. C., in Crete.

"In sculpturing ivory," says Theophilus, "first form a tablet of
the magnitude you may wish, and superposing chalk, portray with
a lead the figures according to your pleasure, and with a pointed
instrument mark the lines that they may appear: then carve the
grounds as deeply as you wish with different instruments, and sculp
the figures or other things you please, according to your invention
and skill." He tells how to make a knife handle with open work
carvings, through which a gold ground is visible: and extremely
handsome would such a knife be when completed, according to Theophilus'
directions. He also tells how to redden ivory. "There is likewise
an herb called 'rubrica,' the root of which is long, slender, and
of a red colour; this being dug up is dried in the sun and is pounded
in a mortar with the pestle, and so being scraped into a pot, and a
lye poured over it, is then cooked. In this, when it has well boiled,
the bone of the elephant or fish or stag, being placed, is made red."
Mediaeval chessmen were made in ivory: very likely the need for a red
stain was felt chiefly for such pieces.

The celebrated Consular Diptychs date from the fourth century onwards.
It was the custom for Consuls to present to senators and other
officials these little folding ivory tablets, and the adornment
of Diptychs was one of the chief functions of the ivory worker.
Some of them were quite ambitious in size; in the British Museum
is a Diptych measuring over sixteen inches by five: the tusk from
which this was made must have been almost unique in size. It is
a Byzantine work, and has the figure of an angel carved upon it.

Gregory the Great sent a gift of ivory to Theodolinda, Queen of
the Lombards, in 600. This is decorated with three figures, and
is a most interesting diptych.

The earliest diptych, however, is of the year 406, known as the
Diptych of Probus, on which may be seen a bas-relief portrait of
Emperor Honorius. On the Diptych of Philoxenus is a Greek verse
signifying, "I, Philoxenus, being Consul, offer this present to
the wise Senate." An interesting diptych, sixteen inches by six,
is inscribed, "Flavius Strategius Apius, illustrious man, count
of the most fervent servants, and consul in ordinary." This
consul was invested in 539; the work was made in Rome, but it
is the property of the Cathedral of Orviedo in Spain, where it
is regarded as a priceless treasure.

Claudian, in the fourth century, alludes to diptychs, speaking of
"huge tusks cut with steel into tablets and gleaming with gold,
engraved with the illustrious name of the Consul, circulated among
great and small, and the great wonder of the Indies, the elephant,
wanders about in tuskless shame!" In Magaster, a city which according
to Marco Polo, was governed by "four old men," they sold "vast
quantities of elephants' teeth."

Rabanus, a follower of Alcuin, born in 776, was the author of an
interesting encyclopaedia, rejoicing in the comprehensive title,
"On the Universe." This work is in twenty-two books, which are
supposed to cover all possible subjects upon which a reader might
be curious.... The seventeenth book is on "the dust and soil of
the earth," under which uninviting head he includes all kinds of
stones, common and precious; salt, flint, sand, lime, jet, asbestos,
and the Persian moonstone, of whose brightness he claims that it
"waxes and wanes with the moon." Later he devotes some space to
pearls, crystals, and glass. Metals follow, and marbles and _ivory_,
though why the latter should be classed among minerals we shall
never understand.

[Illustration: IVORY TABERNACLE, RAVENNA]

The Roman diptychs were often used as after-dinner gifts to
distinguished guests. They were presented on various occasions.
In the Epistles of Symmachus, the writer says: "To my Lord and
Prince I sent a diptych edged with gold. I presented other friends
also with these ivory note books."

While elephant's tusks provided ivory for the southern races, the
more northern peoples used the walrus and narwhale tusks. In Germany
this was often the case. The fabulous unicorn's horn, which is so
often alluded to in early literature, was undoubtedly from the
narwhale, although its possessor always supposed that he had secured
the more remarkable horn which was said to decorate the unicorn.

Triptychs followed diptychs in natural sequence. These, in the Middle
Ages, were usually of a devotional character, although sometimes
secular subjects occur. Letters were sometimes written on ivory
tablets, which were supposed to be again used in forwarding a reply.
St. Augustine apologizes for writing on parchment, explaining, "My
ivory tablets I sent with letters to your uncle; if you have any
of my tablets, please send them in case of similar emergencies."
Tablets fitted with wax linings were used also in schools, as children
now use slates.

Ivory diptychs were fashionable gifts and keepsakes in the later
Roman imperial days. They took the place which had been occupied
in earlier days by illuminated books, such as were produced by
Lala of Cyzicus, of whom mention will be made in connection with
book illuminators.

[Illustration: THE NATIVITY; IVORY CARVING]

After the triptychs came sets of five leaves, hinged together;
sometimes these were arranged in groups of four around a central
plaque. Often they were intended to be used as book covers.
Occasionally the five leaves were made up of classical ivories
which had been altered in such a way that they now had Christian
significance. The beautiful diptych in the Bargello, representing
Adam in the Earthly Paradise, may easily have been originally
intended for Orpheus, especially since Eve is absent! The treatment
is rather classical, and was probably adapted to its later name.
Some diptychs which were used afterwards for ecclesiastical
purposes, show signs of having had the Consular inscription erased,
and the wax removed, while Christian sentiments were written or
incised within the book itself. Parts of the service were also
occasionally transcribed on diptychs. In Milan the Rites contain
these passages: "The lesson ended, a scholar, vested in a surplice,
takes the ivory tablets from the altar or ambo, and ascends the
pulpit;" and in another place a similar allusion occurs: "When the
Deacon chants the Alleluia, the key bearer for the week hands the
ivory tablets to him at the exit of the choir."

Anastatius, in his Life of Pope Agatho, tells of a form of posthumous
excommunication which was sometimes practised: "They took away from
the diptychs... wherever it could be done, the names and figures
of these patriarchs, Cyrus, Sergius, Paul, Pyrrhus, and Peter,
through whom error had been brought among the orthodox."

Among ivory carvings in Carlovingian times may be
cited a casket with ornamental colonettes sent by Eginhard to his
son. In 823, Louis le Debonaire owned a statuette, a diptych, and
a coffer, while in 845 the Archbishop of Rheims placed an order
for ivory book covers, for the works of St. Jerome, a Lectionary,
and other works.

The largest and best known ivory carving of the middle ages is
the throne of Maximian, Archbishop of Ravenna. This entire chair,
with an arched back and arms, is composed of ivory in intricately
carved plaques. It is considerably over three feet in height, and is
a superb example of the best art of the sixth century. Photographs
and reproductions of it may be seen in most works dealing with
this subject. Scenes from Scripture are set all over it, divided
by charming meanders of deeply cut vine motives. Some authorities
consider the figures inferior to the other decorations: of course
in any delineation of the human form, the archaic element is more
keenly felt than when it appears in foliate forms or conventional
patterns. Diptychs being often taken in considerable numbers and
set into large works of ivory, has led some authorities to suppose
that the Ravenna throne was made of such a collection; but this
is contradicted by Passeri in 1759, who alludes to the panels in
the following terms: "They might readily be taken by the ignorant
for diptychs.... This they are not, for they cannot be taken from
the consular diptychs which had their own ornamentation, referring
to the consultate and the insignia, differing from the sculpture
destined for other purposes. Hence they are obviously mistaken who
count certain tablets as diptychs which have no ascription to any
consul, but represent the Muses, Bacchantes, or Gods. These seem
to me to have been book covers." Probably the selected form of an
upright tablet for the majority of ivory carvings is based on
economic principles: the best use of the most surface from any
square block of material is to cut it in thin slices. In their
architecture the southern mediaeval builders so treated stone, building
a substructure of brick and laying a slab or veneer of the more
costly material on its surface: with ivory this same principle
was followed, and the shape of the tusk, being long and narrow,
naturally determined the form of the resulting tablets.

The Throne of Ivan III. in Moscow and that of St. Peter in Rome
are also magnificent monuments of this art. Ivory caskets were the
chief manifestation of taste in that medium, during the period of
transition from the eighth century until the revival of Byzantine
skill in the tenth century. This form of sculpture was at its best
at a time when stone sculpture was on the decline.

There is a fascinating book cover in Ravenna which is a good example
of sixth century work of various kinds. In the centre, Christ is
seen, enthroned under a kind of palmetto canopy; above him, on
a long panel, are two flying angels displaying a cross set in a
wreath; at either end stand little squat figures, with balls and
crosses in their hands. Scenes from the miracles of Our Lord occupy
the two side panels, which are subdivided so that there are four
scenes in all; they are so quaint as to be really grotesque, but
have a certain blunt charm which is enhanced by the creamy lumpiness
of the material in which they are rendered. The healing of the
blind, raising of the dead, and the command to the man by the pool
to take up his bed and walk, are accurately represented; the bed
in this instance is a form of couch with a wooden frame and
mattress, the carrying of which would necessitate an unusual amount
of strength on the part of even a strong, well man. One of the most
naive of these panels of the miracles is the curing of "one
possessed:" the boy is tied with cords by the wrists and ankles,
while, at the touch of the Master, a little demon is seen issuing
from the top of the head of the sufferer, waving its arms proudly
to celebrate its freedom! Underneath is a small scene of the three
Children in the Fiery Furnace; they look as if they were presenting
a vaudeville turn, being spirited in action, and very dramatic.
Below all, is a masterly panel of Jonah and the whale,--an old
favourite, frequently appearing in mediaeval art. The whale,
positively smiling and sportive, eagerly awaits his prey at the
right. Jonah is making a graceful dive from the ship, apparently
with an effort to land in the very jaws of the whale. At the
opposite side, the whale, having coughed up his victim, looks
disappointed, while Jonah, in an attitude of lassitude suggestive
of sea-sickness, reclines on a bank; an angel, with one finger
lifted as if in reproach, is hurrying towards him.

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