Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

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An ingenuous ivory carving of the ninth century in Carlovingian
style is a book cover on which is depicted the finding of St. Gall,
by tame bears in the wilderness. These bears, walking decorously
on their hind legs, are figured as carrying bread to the hungry
saint: one holds a long French loaf of a familiar pattern, and
the other a breakfast roll!

Bernward of Hildesheim had a branch for ivory carving in his celebrated
academy, to which allusion has been made.

Ivory drinking horns were among the most beautiful and ornate examples
of secular ivories. They were called Oliphants, because the tusks
of elephants were chiefly used in their manufacture. In 1515 the
Earl of Ormonde leaves in his will "a little white horn of ivory
garnished at both ends with gold," and in St. Paul's in the thirteenth
century, there is mention of "a great horn of ivory engraved with
beasts and birds." The Horn of Ulphas at York is an example of the
great drinking horns from which the Saxons and Danes, in early
days, drank in token of transfer of lands; as we are told by an old
chronicler, "When he gave the horn that was to convey his estate,
he filled it with wine, and went on his knees before the altar...
so that he drank it off in testimony that thereby he gave them
his lands." This horn was given by Ulphas to the Cathedral with
certain lands, a little before the Conquest, and placed by him
on the altar.

Interesting ivories are often the pastoral staves
carried by bishops. That of Otho Bishop of Hildesheim in 1260 is
inscribed in the various parts: "Persuade by the lower part; rule
by the middle; and correct by the point." These were apparently
the symbolic functions of the crozier. The French Gothic ivory
croziers are perhaps more beautiful than others, the little figures
standing in the carved volutes being especially delicate and graceful.

[Illustration: PASTORAL STAFF; IVORY, GERMAN, 12TH CENTURY]

Before a mediaeval bishop could perform mass he was enveloped in
a wrapper, and his hair was combed "respectfully and lightly" (no
tugging!) by the deacon. This being a part of the regular ceremonial,
special carved combs of ivory, known as Liturgical Combs, were used.
Many of them remain in collections, and they are often ornamented in
the most delightful way, with little processions and Scriptural scenes
in bas-relief. In the Regalia of England, there was mentioned among
things destroyed in 1649, "One old comb of horn, worth nothing."
According to Davenport, this may have been the comb used in smoothing
the king's hair on the occasion of a Coronation.

The rich pulpit at Aix la Chapelle is covered with plates of gold
set with stones and ivory carvings; these are very fine. It was
given to the cathedral by the Emperor Henry II. The inscription
may be thus translated: "Artfully brightened in gold and precious
stones, this pulpit is here dedicated by King Henry with reverence,
desirous of celestial glory: richly it is decorated with his own
treasures, for you, most Holy Virgin, in order that you may obtain
the highest gain as a future reward for him." The sentiment is
not entirely disinterested; but are not motives generally mixed?
St. Bernard preached a Crusade from this pulpit in 1146. The ivory
carvings are very ancient, and remarkably fine, representing figures
from the Greek myths.

Ivory handles were usual for the fly-fan, or flabellum, used at
the altar, to keep flies and other insects away from the Elements.
One entry in an inventory in 1429 might be confusing if one did not
know of this custom: the article is mentioned as "one muscifugium
de pecock" meaning a fly-fan of peacock's feathers!

Small round ivory boxes elaborately sculptured were used both for
Reserving the Host and for containing relics. In the inventory of
the Church of St. Mary Hill, London, was mentioned, in the fifteenth
century, "a lytill yvory cofyr with relyks." At Durham, in 1383,
there is an account of an "ivory casket conteining a vestment of
St. John the Baptist," and in the fourteenth century, in the same
collection, was "a tooth of St. Gendulphus, good for the Falling
Sickness, in a small ivory pyx."

[Illustration: IVORY MIRROR CASE; EARTH 14TH CENTURY]

Ivory mirror backs lent themselves well to decorations of a more
secular nature: these are often carved with the Siege of the Castle
of Love, and with scenes from the old Romances; tournaments were
very popular, with ladies in balconies above pelting the heroes
with roses as large as themselves, and the tutor Aristotle "playing
horse" was a great favourite. Little elopements on horseback were
very much liked, too, as subjects; sometimes rows of heroes on steeds
appear, standing under windows, from which, in a most wholesale
way, whole nunneries or boarding-schools seem to be descending to
fly with them. One of these mirrors shows Huon of Bordeaux playing
at chess with the king's daughter: another represents a castle,
which occupies the upper centre of the circle, and under the window
is a drawbridge, across which passes a procession of mounted knights.
One of these has paused, and, standing balancing himself in a most
precarious way on the pommels of his saddle, is assisting a lady to
descend from a window. Below are seen others, or perhaps the same
lovers, in a later stage of the game, escaping in a boat. At the
windows are the heads of other ladies awaiting their turn to be
carried off.

[Illustration: IVORY MIRROR CASE, 1340]

An ivory chest of simple square shape, once the property of the Rev.
Mr. Bowle, is given in detail by Carter in the Ancient Specimens,
and is as interesting an example of allegorical romance as can
be imagined. Observe the attitude of the knight who has laid his
sword across a chasm in order to use it as a bridge. He is proceeding
on all fours, with unbent knees, right up the sharp edge of the blade!

Among small box shrines which soon developed in Christian times
from the Consular diptychs is one, in the inventory of Roger de
Mortimer, "a lyttle long box of yvory, with an ymage of Our ladye
therein closed."

The differences in expression between French, English, and German
ivory carvings is quite interesting. The French faces and figures
have always a piquancy of action: the nose is a little retroussee
and the eyelids long. The German shows more solidity of person,
less transitoriness and lightness about the figure, and the nose
is blunter. The English carvings are often spirited, so as to be
almost grotesque in their strenuousness, and the tool-mark is visible,
giving ruggedness and interest.

Nothing could be more exquisite than the Gothic shrines in ivory
made in the thirteenth century, but descriptions, unless accompanied
by illustrations, could give little idea of their individual charm,
for the subject is usually the same: the Virgin and child, in the
central portion of the triptych, while scenes from the Passion
occupy the spaces on either side, in the wings.

Statuettes in the round were rare in early Christian times: one of
the Good Shepherd in the Basilewski collection is almost unique,
but pyxes in cylindrical form were made, the sculpture on them
being in relief. In small ivory statuettes it was necessary to
follow the natural curve of the tusk in carving the figure, hence
the usual twisted, and sometimes almost contorted forms often seen
in these specimens. Later, this peculiarity was copied in stone,
unconsciously, simply because the style had become customary. One
of the most charming little groups of figures in ivory is in the
Louvre, the Coronation of the Virgin. The two central figures are
flanked by delightful jocular little angels, who have that
characteristic close-lipped, cat-like smile, which is a regular
feature in all French sculpture of the Gothic type. In a little
triptych of the fourteenth century, now in London, there is the
rather unusual scene of Joseph, sitting opposite the Virgin, and
holding the Infant in his arms.

Among the few names of mediaeval ivory carvers known, are Henry de
Gres, in 1391, Heliot, 1390, and Henry de Senlis, in 1484. Heliot
is recorded as having produced for Philip the Bold "two large ivory
tablets with images, one of which is the... life of Monsieur St.
John Baptist." This polite description occurs in the Accounts of
Amiot Arnaut, in 1392.

A curious freak of the Gothic period was the making of ivory statuettes
of the Virgin, which opened down the centre (like the Iron Maiden
of Nueremberg), and disclosed within a series of Scriptural scenes
sculptured on the back and on both sides. These images were called
Vierges Ouvrantes, and were decidedly more curious than beautiful.

In the British Museum is a specimen of northern work, a basket cut
out from the bone of a whale; it is Norse in workmanship, and there
is a Runic inscription about the border, which has been thus
translated:

"The whale's bones from the fishes' flood
I lifted on Fergen Hill:
He was dashed to death in his gambols
And aground he swam in the shallows."

Fergen Hill refers to an eminence near Durham.

[Illustration: CHESSMAN FROM LEWIS]

Some very ancient chessmen are preserved in the British Museum, in
particular a set called the Lewis Chessmen. They were discovered
in the last century, being laid bare by the pick axe of a labourer.
These chessmen have strange staring eyes; when the workman saw
them, he took them for gnomes who had come up out of the bowels
of the earth, to annoy him, and he rushed off in terror to report
what proved to be an important archaeological discovery.

One of the chessmen of Charlemagne is to be seen in Paris: he rides
an elephant, and is attended by a cortege, all in one piece. Sometimes
these men are very elaborate ivory carvings in themselves.

As Mr. Maskell points out that bishops did not wear mitres, according
to high authority, until after the year 1000, it is unlikely that
any of the ancient chessmen in which the Bishop appears in a mitre
should be of earlier date than the eleventh century. There is one
fine Anglo-Saxon set of draughts in which the white pieces are
of walrus ivory, and the black pieces, of genuine jet.

Paxes, which were passed about in church for the Kiss of Peace,
were sometimes made of ivory.

There are few remains of early Spanish ivory sculpture. Among them
is a casket curiously and intricately ornamented and decorated,
with the following inscription: "In the Name of God, The Blessing
of God, the complete felicity, the happiness, the fulfilment of
the hope of good works, and the adjourning of the fatal period
of death, be with Hagib Seifo.... This box was made by his orders
under the inspection of his slave Nomayr, in the year 395." Ivory
caskets in Spain were often used to contain perfumes, or to serve as
jewel boxes. It was customary, also, to use them to convey presents
of relics to churches. Ivory was largely used in Spain for inlay
in fine furniture.

King Don Sancho ordered a shrine, in 1033, to contain the relics
of St. Millan. The ivory plaques which are set about this shrine
are interesting specimens of Spanish art under Oriental domination.
Under one little figure is inscribed Apparitio Scholastico, and
Remirus Rex under another, while a figure of a sculptor carving a
shield, with a workman standing by him, is labelled "Magistro and
Ridolpho his son."

Few individual ivory carvers are known by name. A French artist,
Jean Labraellier, worked in ivory for Charles V. of France; and
in Germany it must have been quite a fashionable pursuit in high
life; the Elector of Saxony, August the Pious, who died in 1586,
was an ivory worker, and there are two snuff-boxes shown as the
work of Peter the Great. The Elector of Brandenburgh and Maximilian
of Bavaria both carved ivory for their own recreation. In the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there were many well-known
sculptors who turned their attention to ivory; but our researches
hardly carry us so far.

For a moment, however, I must touch on the subject of billiard
balls. It may interest our readers to know that the size of the
little black dot on a ball indicates its quality. The nerve which
runs through a tusk, is visible at this point, and a ball made from
the ivory near the end of the tusk, where the nerve has tapered
off to its smallest proportions, is the best ball. The finest balls
of all are made from short stubby tusks, which are known as "ball
teeth." The ivory in these is closer in grain, and they are much
more expensive. Very large tusks are more liable to have coarse
grained bony spaces near the centre.

CHAPTER X

INLAY AND MOSAIC

There are three kinds of inlay, one where the pattern is incised,
and a plastic filling pressed in, and allowed to harden, on the
principle of a niello; another, where both the piece to be set
in and the background are cut out separately; and a third, where
a number of small bits are fitted together as in a mosaic. The
pavement in Siena is an example of the first process. The second
process is often accomplished with a fine saw, like what is popularly
known as a jig saw, cutting the same pattern in light and dark
wood, one layer over another; the dark can then be set into the
light, and the light in the dark without more than one cutting
for both. The mosaic of small pieces can be seen in any of the
Southern churches, and, indeed, now in nearly every country. It
was the chief wall treatment of the middle ages.

[Illustration: MARBLE INLAY FROM LUCCA]

About the year 764, Maestro Giudetto ornamented the delightful
Church of St. Michele at Lucca. This work, or at least the best of
it, is a procession of various little partly heraldic and partly
grotesque animals, inlaid with white marble on a ground of green
serpentine. They are full of the best expression of mediaeval art.
The Lion of Florence, the Hare of Pisa, the Stork of Perugia, the
Dragon of Pistoja, are all to be seen in these simple mosaics,
if one chooses to consider them as such, hardly more than white
silhouettes, and yet full of life and vigour. The effect is that
of a vast piece of lace,--the real cut work of the period. Absurd
little trees, as space fillers, are set in the green and white
marble. Every reader will remember how Ruskin was enthusiastic over
these little creatures, and no one can fail to feel their charm.

The pavements at the Florentine Baptistery and at San Miniato are
interesting examples of inlay in black and white marble. They are
early works, and are the natural forerunners of the marvellous
pavement at Siena, which is the most remarkable of its kind in the
world.

The pavement masters worked in varying methods. The first of these
was the joining together of large flat pieces of marble, cut in
the shapes of the general design, and then outlining on them an
actual black drawing by means of deeply cut channels, filled with
hard black cement. The channels were first cut superficially and
then emphasized and deepened by the use of a drill, in a series
of holes.

[Illustration: DETAIL OF PAVEMENT, BAPTISTERY, FLORENCE]

Later workers used black marbles for the backgrounds, red for the
ground, and white for the figures, sometimes adding touches of
yellow inlay for decorations, jewels, and so forth. Some of the
workers even used gray marble to represent shadows, but this was
very difficult, and those who attempted less chiaroscuro were more
successful from a decorator's point of view.

This work covered centuries. The earliest date of the ornamental
work in Siena is 1369. From 1413 to 1423 Domenico del Coro, a famous
worker in glass and in intarsia, was superintendent of the works. The
beauty and spirit of much of the earlier inlay have been impaired
by restoration, but the whole effect is unique, and on so vast a
scale that one hesitates to criticize it just as one hesitates
to criticize the windows at Gouda.

One compartment of the floor is in genuine mosaic, dating from
1373. The designer is unknown, but the feeling is very Sienese;
Romulus and Remus are seen in their customary relation to the
domesticated wolf, while the symbolical animals of various Italian
cities are arranged in a series of circles around this centrepiece.
One of the most striking designs is that of Absalom, hanging by
his hair. It is in sharp black and white, and the foliage of the
trees is remarkably decorative, rendered with interesting minutiae.
This is attributed to Pietro del Minella, and was begun in 1447.

A very interesting composition is that of the Parable of the Mote and
the Beam. This is an early work, about 1375; it shows two gentlemen
in the costume of the period, arguing in courtly style, one apparently
declaiming to the other how much better it would be for him if
it were not for the mote in his eye, while from the eye of the
speaker himself extends, at an impossible angle, a huge wedge of
wood, longer than his head, from which he appears to suffer no
inconvenience, and which seems to have defied the laws of gravitation!

The renowned Matteo da Siena worked on the pavement; he designed
the scene of the Massacre of the Innocents--it seems to have been
always his favourite subject. He was apparently of a morbid turn.

In 1505 Pinturicchio was paid for a work on the floor: "To master
Bernardino Pinturicchio, ptr., for his labour in making a cartoon
for the design of Fortune, which is now being made in the Cathedral,
on this 13th day of March, 12 Lires for our said Master Alberto."
The mosaic is in red, black, and white, while other coloured marbles
are introduced in the ornamental parts of the design, several of which
have been renewed. Fortune herself has been restored, also, as have
most of the lower figures in the composition. Her precariousness
is well indicated by her action in resting one foot on a ball, and
the other on an unstable little boat which floats, with broken
mast, by the shore. She holds a sail above her head, so that she
is liable to be swayed by varying winds. The three upper figures
are in a better state of preservation than the others.

[Illustration: DETAIL OF PAVEMENT, SIENA; "FORTUNE," BY PINTURICCHIO]

There was also in France some interest in mosaic during the eleventh
century. At St. Remi in Rheims was a celebrated pavement in which
enamels were used as well as marbles. Among the designs which appeared
on this pavement, which must have positively rivalled Siena in its
glory, was a group of the Seven Arts, as well as numerous Biblical
scenes. It is said that certain bits of valuable stone, like jasper,
were exhibited in marble settings, like "precious stones in a ring."
There were other French pavements, of the eleventh century, which
were similar in their construction, in which terra cotta was employed
for the reds.

"Pietra Dura" was a mosaic laid upon either a thick wood or a marble
foundation. Lapis lazuli, malachite, and jasper were used largely,
as well as bloodstones, onyx, and Rosso Antico. In Florentine Pietra
Dura work, the inlay of two hard and equally cut materials reached
its climax.

Arnolfo del Cambio, who built the Cathedral of Sta. Maria Fiore in
Florence, being its architect from 1294 till 1310, was the first
in that city to use coloured slabs and panels of marble in a sort
of flat mosaic on a vast scale on the outside of buildings. His
example has been extensively followed throughout Italy. The art
of Pietra Dura mosaic began under Cosimo I. who imported it, if
one may use such an expression, from Lombardy. It was used chiefly,
like Gobelins Tapestry, to make very costly presents, otherwise
unprocurable, for grandees and crowned heads. For a long time the
work was a Royal monopoly. There are several interesting examples
in the Pitti Palace, in this case in the form of tables. Flowers,
fruits, shells, and even figures and landscapes have been represented
in this manner.

Six masters of the art of Pietra Dura came from Milan in 1580,
to instruct the Florentines: and a portrait of Cosimo I. was the
first important result of their labours. It was executed by Maestro
Francesco Ferucci. The Medicean Mausoleum in Florence exhibits
magnificent specimens of this craft.

In the time of Ferdinand I. the art was carried by Florentines
to India, where it was used in decorating some of the palaces.
Under Ferdinand II. Pietra Dura reached its climax, there being
in Florence at this time a most noted Frenchman, Luigi Siries,
who settled in Florence in 1722. He refined the art by ceasing to
use the stone as a pigment in producing pictures, and employing
it for the more legitimate purposes of decoration. Some of the
large tables in the Pitti are his work. Flowers and shells on a
porphyry ground were especially characteristic of Siries. There was
a famous inlayer of tables, long before this time, named Antonio
Leopardi, who lived from 1450 to 1525.

The inlay of wood has been called marquetry and intarsia, and was
used principally on furniture and choir stalls. Labarte gives the
origin of this art in Italy to the twelfth century. The Guild of
Carpenters in Florence had a branch of Intarsiatura workers, which
included all forms of inlay in wood. It is really more correct
to speak of intarsia when we allude to early Italian work, the
word being derived from "interserere," the Latin for "insert;"
while marquetry originates in France, much later, from "marqueter,"
to mark. Italian wood inlay began in Siena, where one Manuello is
reported to have worked in the Cathedral in 1259. Intarsia was
also made in Orvieto at this time. Vasari did not hold the art in
high estimation, saying that it was practised by "those persons who
possessed more patience than skill in design," and I confess to a
furtive concurrence in Vasari's opinion. He criticizes it a little
illogically, however, when he goes on to say that the "work soon
becomes dark, and is always in danger of perishing from the worms
and by fire," for in these respects it is no more perishable than
any great painting on canvas or panel. Vasari always is a little
extreme, as we know.

The earliest Italian workers took a solid block of wood, chiselled
out a sunken design, and then filled in the depression with other
woods. The only enemy to such work was dampness, which might loosen
the glue, or cause the small thin bits to swell or warp. The glue
was applied always when the surfaces were perfectly clean, and
the whole was pressed, being screwed down on heated metal plates,
that all might dry evenly.

In 1478 there were thirty-four workshops of intarsia makers in
Florence. The personal history of several of the Italian workers
in inlay is still available, and, as it makes a craft seem much
more vital when the names of the craftsmen are known to us, it
will be interesting to glance at a few names of prominent artists
in this branch of work. Bernardo Agnolo and his family are among
them; and Domenico and Giovanni Tasso were wood-carvers who worked
with Michelangelo. Among the "Novelli," there is a quaint tale
called "The Fat Ebony Carver," which is interesting to read in this
connection.

Benedetto da Maiano, one of the "most solemn" workers in intarsia in
Florence, became disgusted with his art after one trying experience,
and ever after turned his attention to other carving. Vasari's
version of the affair is as follows. Benedetto had been making
two beautiful chests, all inlaid most elaborately, and carried
them to the Court of Hungary, to exhibit the workmanship. "When
he had made obeisance to the king, and had been kindly received,
he brought forward his cases and had them unpacked... but it was
then he discovered that the humidity of the sea voyage had softened
the glue to such an extent that when the waxed cloths in which
the coffers had been wrapped were opened, almost all the pieces
were found sticking to them, and so fell to the ground! Whether
Benedetto stood amazed and confounded at such an event, in the
presence of so many nobles, let every one judge for himself."

A famous family of wood inlayers were the del Tasso, who came from
S. Gervasio. One of the brothers, Giambattista, was a wag, and
is said to have wasted much time in amusement and standing about
criticizing the methods of others. He was a friend of Cellini, and
all his cronies pronounce him to have been a good fellow. On one
occasion he had a good dose of the spirit of criticism, himself,
from a visiting abbot, who stopped to see the Medicean tomb, where
Tasso happened to be working. Tasso was requested to show the stranger
about, which he did. The abbot began by depreciating the beauty of
the building, remarking that Michelangelo's figures in the Sacristy
did not interest him, and on his way up the stairs, he chanced to
look out of a window and caught sight of Brunelleschi's dome. When
the dull ecclesiastic began to say that this dome did not merit
the admiration which it raised, the exasperated Tasso, who was
loyal to his friends, could stand no more. Il Lasca recounts what
happened: "Pulling the abbot backward with force, he made him
tumble down the staircase, and he took good care to fall himself
on top of him, and calling out that the frater had been taken mad,
he bound his arms and legs with cords... and then taking him,
hanging over his shoulders, he carried him to a room near,
stretched him on the ground, and left him there in the dark, taking
away the key." We will hope that if Tasso himself was too prone to
criticism, he may have learned a lesson from this didactic monastic,
and was more tolerant in the future.

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