Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

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Theophilus instructs his craftsman how to make the
handles of the chalice as follows: "Take wax, form handles with
it, and grave upon them dragons or animals or birds, or leaves--in
whatever manner you may wish. But on the top of each handle place a
little wax, round like a slender candle, half a finger in length,...
this wax is called the funnel.... Then take some clay and cover
carefully the handle, so that the hollows of the sculpture may
be filled up.... Afterwards place these moulds near the coals,
that when they have become warm you may pour out the wax. Which
being turned out, melt the silver,... and cast into the same place
whence you poured out the wax. And when they have become cold remove
the clay." The solid silver handles are found inside, one hardly
need say.

In casting in the "cire perdu" process, Benvenuto Cellini warns
you to beware lest you break your crucible--"just as you've got
your silver nicely molten," he says, "and are pouring it into the
mould, crack goes your crucible, and all your work and time and
pains are lost!" He advises wrapping it in stout cloths.

The process of repousse work is also much the same to-day as it
has always been. The metal is mounted on cement and the design
partly beaten in from the outside; then the cement is melted out,
and the design treated in more detail from the inside. Theophilus
tells us how to prepare a silver vessel to be beaten with a design.
After giving a recipe for a sort of pitch, he says, "Melt this
composition and fill the vial to the top. And when it has become
cold, portray... whatever you wish, and taking a slender ductile
instrument, and a small hammer, design that which you have portrayed
around it by striking lightly." This process is practically, on a
larger scale, what Cellini describes as that of "minuterie." Cellini
praises Caradosso beyond all others in this work, saying "it was just
in this very getting of the gold so equal all over, that I never knew
a man to beat Caradosso!" He tells how important this equality of
surface is, for if, in the working, the gold became thicker in one
place than in another, it was impossible to attain a perfect finish.
Caradosso made first a wax model of the object which he was to
make; this he cast in copper, and on that he laid his thin gold,
beating and modelling it to the form, until the small hollow bas-relief
was complete. The work was done with wooden and steel tools of
small proportions, sometimes pressed from the back and sometimes
from the front; "ever so much care is necessary," writes Cellini,
"...to prevent the gold from splitting." After the model was brought
to such a point of relief as was suitable for the design, great
care had to be exercised in extending the gold further, to fit
behind heads and arms in special relief. In those days the whole
film of gold was then put in the furnace, and fired until the gold
began to liquefy, at which exact moment it was necessary to remove
it. Cellini himself made a medal for Girolamo Maretta, representing
Hercules and the Lion; the figures were in such high relief that
they only touched the ground at a few points. Cellini reports with
pride that Michelangelo said to him: "If this work were made in
great, whether in marble or in bronze, and fashioned with as
exquisite a design as this, it would astonish the world; and
even in its present size it seems to me so beautiful that I
do not think even a goldsmith of the ancient world fashioned aught
to come up to it!" Cellini says that these words "stiffened him
up," and gave him much increased ambition. He describes also an
Atlas which he constructed of wrought gold, to be placed upon a
lapis lazuli background: this he made in extreme relief, using
tiny tools, "working right into the arms and legs, and making all
alike of equal thickness." A cope-button for Pope Clement was also
quite a _tour de force_; as he said, "these pieces of work are often
harder the smaller they are." The design showed the Almighty seated
on a great diamond; around him there were "a number of jolly little
angels," some in complete relief. He describes how he began with a
flat sheet of gold, and worked constantly and conscientiously,
gradually bossing it up, until, with one tool and then another, he
finally mastered the material, "till one fine day God the Father
stood forth in the round, most comely to behold." So skilful was
Cellini in this art that he "bossed up in high relief with his
punches some fifteen little angels, without even having to solder
the tiniest rent!" The fastening of the clasp was decorated with
"little snails and masks and other pleasing trifles," which suggest
to us that Benvenuto was a true son of the Renaissance, and that his
design did not equal his ability as a craftsman.

Cellini's method of forming a silver vase was on this wise. The
original plate of silver had to be red hot, "not too red, for then
it would crack,--but sufficient to burn certain little grains thrown
on to it." It was then adjusted to the stake, and struck with the
hammer, towards the centre, until by degrees it began to take convex
form. Then, keeping the central point always in view by means of
compasses, from that point he struck "a series of concentric circles
about half a finger apart from each other," and with a hammer,
beginning at the centre, struck so that the "movement of the hammer
shall be in the form of a spiral, and follow the concentric circles."
It was important to keep the form very even all round. Then the
vase had to be hammered from within, "till it was equally bellied
all round," and after that, the neck was formed by the same method.
Then, to ornament the vase, it was filled with pitch, and the design
traced on the outside. When it was necessary to beat up the ornament
from within, the vase was cleared out, and inverted upon the point
of a long "snarling-iron," fastened in an anvil stock, and beaten
so that the point should indent from within. The vase would often
have to be filled with pitch and emptied in this manner several
times in the course of its construction.

Benvenuto Cellini was one of the greatest art personalities of all
time. The quaintness of the aesthetic temperament is nowhere found
better epitomized than in his life and writings. But as a producer of
artistic things, he is a great disappointment. Too versatile to be a
supreme specialist, he is far more interesting as a man and craftsman
than as a designer. Technical skill he had in unique abundance. And
another faculty, for which he does not always receive due credit, is
his gift for imparting his knowledge. His Treatises, containing
valuable information as to methods of work, are less familiar to most
readers than his fascinating biography. These Treatises, or directions
to craftsmen, are full of the spice and charm which characterize his
other work. One cannot proceed from a consideration of the bolder
metal work to a study of the dainty art of the goldsmith without a
glance at Benvenuto Cellini.

The introduction to the Treatises has a naive opening: "What first
prompted me to write was the knowledge of how fond people are of
hearing anything new." This, and other reasons, induced him to
"write about those loveliest secrets and wondrous methods of the
great art of goldsmithing."

Francis I. indeed thought highly of Cellini. Upon viewing one of his
works, his Majesty raised his hands, and exclaimed to the Mareschal
de France, "I command you to give the first good fat abbey that
falls vacant to our Benvenuto, for I do not want my kingdom to
be deprived of his like."

Benvenuto describes the process of making filigree work, the principle
of which is, fine wire coiled flat so as to form designs with an
interesting and varied surface. Filigree is quite common still, and
any one who has walked down the steep street of the Goldsmiths in
Genoa is familiar with most of its modern forms. Cellini says: "Though
many have practised the art without making drawings first, because the
material in which they worked was so easily handled and so pliable,
yet those who made their drawings first did the best work. Now give
ear to the way the art is pursued." He then directs that the craftsman
shall have ready three sizes of wire, and some little gold granules,
which are made by cutting the short lengths of wire, and then subjecting
them to fervent heat until they become as little round beads. He
then explains how the artificer must twist and mould the delicate
wires, and tastily apply the little granules, so as to make a graceful
design, usually of some floriate form. When the wire flowers and
leaves were formed satisfactorily, a wash of gum tragacanth should
be applied, to hold them in place until the final soldering. The
solder was in powdered form, and it was to be dusted on "just as
much as may suffice,... and not more,"... this amount of solder
could only be determined by the experience of the artist. Then came
the firing of the finished work in the little furnace; Benvenuto is
here quite at a loss how to explain himself: "Too much heat would
move the wires you have woven out of place," he says, "really it is
quite impossible to tell it properly in writing; I could explain it
all right by word of mouth, or better still, show you how it is
done,--still, come along,--we'll try to go on as we started!"

Sometimes embossing was done by thin sheets of metal being pressed
on to a wooden carving prepared for the purpose, so that the result
would be a raised silver pattern, which, when filled up with pitch
or lead, would pass for a sample of repousse work. I need hardly
say that a still simpler mechanical form of pressing obtains on
cheap silver to-day.

So much for the mechanical processes of treating these metals. We
will now examine some of the great historic examples, and glance
at the lives of prominent workers in gold and silver in the past.

One of the most brilliant times for the production of works of art
in gold and silver, was when Constantine, upon becoming Christian,
moved the seat of government to Byzantium. Byzantine ornament lends
itself especially to such work. The distinguishing mark between
the earlier Greek jewellers and the Byzantine was, that the former
considered chiefly line, form, and delicacy of workmanship, while
the latter were led to expression through colour and texture, and
not fineness of finish.

The Byzantine emperors loved gold in a lavish way, and on a superb
scale. They were not content with chaste rings and necklets, or
even with golden crowns. The royal thrones were of gold; their
armour was decorated with the precious metal, and their chariots
enriched in the same way. Even the houses of the rich people
were more endowed with precious furnishings than most of the churches
of other nations, and every family possessed a massive silver table,
and solid vases and plate.

The Emperor Theophilus, who lived in the ninth century, was a great
lover of the arts. His palace was built after the Arabian style,
and he had skilful mechanical experts to construct a golden tree
over his throne, on the branches of which were numerous birds,
and two golden lions at the foot. These birds were so arranged
by clockwork, that they could be made to sing, and the lions also
joined a roar to the chorus!

A great designer of the Middle Ages was Alcuin, the teacher of
Charlemagne, who lived from 735 to 804; he superintended the building
of many fine specimens of church plate. The school of Alcuin, however,
was more famous for illumination, and we shall speak of his work
at more length when we come to deal with that subject.

Another distinguished patron of art was the Abbot Odo of Cluny,
who had originally been destined for a soldier; but he was visited
with what Maitland describes as "an inveterate headache, which, from
his seventeenth to his nineteenth year, defied all medical skill,"
so he and his parents, convinced that this was a manifestation of
the disapproval of Heaven, decided to devote his life to religious
pursuits. He became Abbot of Cluny in the year 927.

[Illustration: CROWN OF CHARLEMAGNE]

Examples of ninth century goldsmithing are rare. Judging from the
few specimens existing, the crown of Charlemagne, and the beautiful
binding of the Hours of Charles the Bold, one would be inclined to
think that an almost barbaric wealth of closely set jewels was the
entire standard of the art of the time, and that grace of form or
contour was quite secondary. The tomb was rifled about the twelfth
century, and many of the valuable things with which he was surrounded
were taken away. The throne was denuded of its gold, and may be seen
to-day in the Cathedral at Aachen, a simple marble chair plain and
dignified, with the copper joints showing its construction. Many of
the relics of Charlemagne are in the treasury at Aachen, among other
interesting items, the bones of the right arm of the Emperor in a
golden shrine in the form of a hand and arm. There is a thrill in
contemplating the remains of the right arm of Charlemagne after all
the centuries, when one remembers the swords and sceptres which have
been wielded by that mighty member. The reliquary containing the
right arm of Charlemagne is German work (of course later than the
opening of the tomb), probably between 1155 and 1190. Frederic
Barbarossa and his ancestors are represented on its ornamentation.

There is little goldsmith's work of the Norman period in Great
Britain, for that was a time of the building of large structures,
and probably minor arts and personal adornment took a secondary
place.

[Illustration: BERNWARD'S CROSS AND CANDLESTICKS, HILDESHEIM]

Perhaps the most satisfactory display of mediaeval arts and crafts
which may be seen in one city is at Hildesheim: the special richness
of remains of the tenth century is owing to the life and example
of an early bishop--Bernward--who ruled the See from 993 to 1022.
Before he was made bishop, Bernward was tutor to the young Emperor
Otto III. He was a student of art all his life, and a practical
craftsman, working largely in metals, and training up a Guild of
followers in the Cathedral School. He was extremely versatile: one
of the great geniuses of history. In times of war he was Commander
in Chief of Hildesheim; he was a traveller, having made pilgrimages
to Rome and Paris, and the grave of St. Martin at Tours. This wide
culture was unusual in those days; it is quite evident from his
active life of accomplishment in creative art, that good Bishop
Bernward was not to be numbered among those who expected the end of
the world to occur in the year 1000 A. D. Of his works to be seen
in Hildesheim, there are splendid examples. The Goldsmith's School
under his direction was famous.

He was created bishop in 992; Taugmar pays him a tribute, saying:
"He was an excellent penman, a good painter, and as a household
manager was unequalled." Moreover, he "excelled in the mechanical
no less than in the liberal arts." In fact, a visit to Hildesheim
to-day proves that to this man who lived ten centuries ago is due
the fact that Hildesheim is the most artistic city in Germany from
the antiquarian's point of view. This bishop influenced every branch
of art, and with so vital an influence, that his See city is still
full of his works and personality. He was not only a practical
worker in the arts and crafts, but he was also a collector, forming
quite a museum for the further instruction of the students who came
in touch with him. He decorated the walls of his cathedral; the great
candelabrum, or corona, which circles above the central aisle of the
cathedral, was his own design, and the work of his followers; and
the paschal column in the cathedral was from his workshop, wrought
as delightfully as would be possible in any age, and yet executed
nearly a thousand years ago. No bishop ever deserved sainthood
more, or made a more practical contribution to the Church. Pope
Celestine III. canonized him in 1194.

Bernward came of a noble family. His figure may be seen--as near
an approach to a portrait of this great worker as we have--among
the bas-reliefs on the beautiful choir-screen in St. Michael's
Church in Hildesheim.

[Illustration: BERNWARD'S CHALICE, HILDESHEIM]

The cross executed by Bernward's own hands in 994 is a superb work,
with filigree covering the whole, and set with gems _en cabochon_,
with pearls, and antique precious stones, carved with Greek divinities
in intaglio. The candlesticks of St. Bernward, too, are most
interesting. They are made of a metal composed of gold, silver,
and iron, and are wrought magnificently, into a mass of animal
and floriate forms, their outline being well retained, and the
grace of the shaft and proportions being striking. They are partly
the work of the mallet and partly of the chisel. They had been
buried with Bernward, and were found in his sarcophagus in 1194.
Didron has likened them, in their use of animal form, to the art
of the Mexicans; but to me they seem more like delightful German
Romanesque workmanship, leaning more towards that of certain spirited
Lombard grotesques, or even that of Arles and certain parts of
France, than to the Aztec to which Didron has reference. The little
climbing figures, while they certainly have very large hands and
feet, yet are endowed with a certain sprightly action; they all
give the impression of really making an effort,--they are trying
to climb, instead of simply occupying places in the foliage. There
is a good deal of strength and energy displayed in all of them,
and, while the work is rude and rough, it is virile. It is not
unlike the workmanship on the Gloucester candlestick in the South
Kensington Museum, which was made in the twelfth century.

Bernward's chalice is set with antique stones, some of them carved.
On the foot may be seen one representing the three Graces, in their
customary state of nudity "without malice."

Bernward was also an architect. He built the delightful church of
St. Michael, and its cloister. He also superintended the building
of an important wall by the river bank in the lower town.

When there was an uneasy time of controversy at Gandesheim, Bernward
hastened to headquarters in Rome, to arrange to bring about better
feeling. In 1001 he arrived, early in January, and the Pope went
out to meet him, kissed him, and invited him to stay as a guest
at his palace. After accomplishing his diplomatic mission, and
laden with all sorts of sacred relics, Bernward returned home, not
too directly to prevent his seeing something of the intervening
country.

A book which Bishop Bernward had made and illuminated in 1011 has the
inscription: "I, Bernward, had this codex written out, at my own cost,
and gave it to the beloved Saint of God, Michael. Anathema to him who
alienates it." This inscription has the more interest for being the
actual autograph of Bernward.

He was succeeded by Hezilo, and many other pupils. These men made
the beautiful corona of the cathedral, of which I give an illustration
in detail. Great coronas or circular chandeliers hung in the naves
of many cathedrals in the Middle Ages. The finest specimen is this
at Hildesheim, the magnificent ring of which is twenty feet across,
as it hangs suspended by a system of rods and balls in the form
of chains. It has twelve large towers and twelve small ones set
around it, supposed to suggest the Heavenly Jerusalem with its many
mansions. There are sockets for seventy-two candles. The detail
of its adornment is very splendid, and repays close study. Every
little turret is different in architectonic form, and statues of
saints are to be seen standing within these. The pierced silver
work on this chandelier is as beautiful as any mediaeval example
in existence.

[Illustration: CORONA AT HILDESHEIM (DETAIL)]

The great leader of mediaeval arts in France was the Abbot Suger
of St. Denis. Suger was born in 1081, he and his brother, Alvise,
who was Bishop of Arras, both being destined for the Episcopate.
As a youth he passed ten years at St. Denis as a scholar. Here he
became intimate with Prince Louis, and this friendship developed
in after life. On returning from a voyage to Italy, in 1122,
he learned at the same time of the death of his spiritual father,
Abbot Adam, and of his own election to be his successor. He
thus stood at the head of the convent of St. Denis in 1123.
This was due to his noble character, his genius for diplomacy
and his artistic talent. He was minister to Louis VI., and afterwards
to Louis VII., and during the second Crusade, he was made Regent
for the kingdom. Suger was known, after this, as the Father of his
Country, for he was a courageous counsellor, firm and convincing
in argument, so that the king had really been guided by his advice.
While he was making laws and instigating crusades, he was also
directing craft shops and propagating the arts in connection with
the life of the Church. St. Bernard denounced him, as encouraging
too luxurious a ritual; Suger made a characteristic reply: "If
the ancient law... ordained that vessels and cups of gold should
be used for libations, and to receive the blood of rams,... how
much rather should we devote gold, precious stones, and the rarest
of materials, to those vessels which are destined to contain the
blood of Our Lord."

Suger ordered and himself made most beautiful appointments for the
sanctuary, and when any vessel already owned by the Abbey was of
costly material, and yet unsuitable in style, he had it remodelled.
An interesting instance of this is a certain antique vase of red
porphyry. There was nothing ecclesiastical about this vase; it was
a plain straight Greek jar, with two handles at the sides. Suger
treated it as the body of an eagle, making the head and neck to
surmount it, and the claw feet for it to stand on, together with
its soaring wings, of solid gold, and it thus became transformed
into a magnificent reliquary in the form of the king of birds. The
inscription on this Ampula of Suger is: "As it is our duty to present
unto God oblations of gems and gold, I, Suger, offer this vase unto
the Lord."

Suger stood always for the ideal in art and character. He had the
courage of his convictions in spite of the fulminations of St.
Bernard. Instead of using the enormous sums of money at his disposal
for importing Byzantine workmen, he preferred to use his funds
and his own influence in developing a native French school of
artificers.

It is interesting to discover that Suger, among his many adaptations
and restorations at St. Denis, incorporated some of the works of
St. Eloi into his own compositions. For instance, he took an ivory
pulpit, and remodelled it with the addition of copper animals.
Abbots of St. Denis made beautiful offerings to the church. One of
them, Abbot Matthiew de Vendome, presented a wonderful reliquary,
consisting of a golden head and bust, while another gave a reliquary
to contain the jaw of St. Louis. Suger presented many fine products
of his own art and that of his pupils, among others a great cross
six feet in height. A story is told of him, that, while engaged in
making a particularly splendid crucifix for St. Denis, he ran short
of precious stones, nor could he in any way obtain what he required,
until some monks came to him and offered to sell him a superb lot of
stones which had formerly embellished the dinner service of Henry
I. of England, whose nephew had given them to the convent in exchange
for indulgences and masses! In these early and half-barbaric days of
magnificence, form and delicacy of execution were not understood.
Brilliancy and lavish display of sparkling jewels, set as thickly
as possible without reference to a general scheme of composition,
was the standard of beauty; and it must be admitted that, with
such stones available, no more effective school of work has ever
existed than that of which such works Charlemagne's crown, the
Iron Crown of Monza, and the crown of King Suinthila, are typical
examples. Abbot Suger lamented when he lacked a sufficient supply
of stones; but he did not complain when there occurred a deficiency
in workmen. It was comparatively easy to train artists who could
make settings and bind stones together with soldered straps!

In 1352 a royal silversmith of France, Etienne La Fontaine, made
a "fauteuil of silver and crystal decorated with precious stones,"
for the king.

The golden altar of Basle is almost as interesting as the great
Pala d'Oro in Venice, of which mention is made elsewhere. It was
ordered by Emperor Henry the Pious, before 1024, and presented to
the Prime Minister at Basle. The central figure of the Saviour
has at its feet two tiny figures, quite out of scale; these are
intended for the donors, Emperor Henry and his queen, Cunegunda.

Silversmith's work in Spain was largely in Byzantine style, while
some specimens of Gothic and Roman are also to be seen there. Moorish
influence is noticeable, as in all Spanish design, and filigree work
of Oriental origin is frequently to be met with. Some specimens of
champleve enamel are also to be seen, though this art was generally
confined to Limoges during the Middle Ages. A Guild was formed in
Toledo which was in flourishing condition in 1423.

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