Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

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While the monasteries undoubtedly controlled most of the art education
of the early middle ages, there were also laymen who devoted themselves
to these pursuits. John de Garlande, a famous teacher in the University
of Paris, wrote, in the eleventh century, a "Dictionarius" dealing
with various arts. In this interesting work he describes, the trades
of the moneyers (who controlled the mint), the coining of gold and
silver into currency (for the making of coin in those days was
permitted by individuals), the clasp makers, the makers of cups
or hanaps, jewellers and harness makers, and other artificers.
John de Garlande was English, born about the middle of the twelfth
century, and was educated in Oxford. In the early thirteenth century
he became associated with the University, and when Simon de Montfort
was slain in 1218, at Toulouse, John was at the University of
Toulouse, where he was made So professor, and stayed three years,
returning then to Paris. He died about the middle of the thirteenth
century. He was celebrated chiefly for his Dictionarius, a work on
the various arts and crafts of France, and for a poem "De Triumphis
Ecclesiae."

During the Middle Ages votive crowns were often presented to churches;
among these a few are specially famous. The crowns, studded with
jewels, were suspended before the altar by jewelled chains, and often
a sort of fringe of jewelled letters was hung from the rim, forming
an inscription. The votive crown of King Suinthila, in Madrid, is
among the most ornate of these. It is the finest specimen in the
noted "Treasure of Guerrazzar," which was discovered by peasants
turning up the soil near Toledo; the crowns, of which there were
many, date from about the seventh century, and are sumptuous with
precious stones. The workmanship is not that of a barbarous nation,
though it has the fascinating irregularities of the Byzantine style.

Of the delightful work of the fifth and sixth centuries there are
scarcely any examples in Italy. The so-called Iron Crown of Monza
is one of the few early Lombard treasures. This crown has within
it a narrow band of iron, said to be a nail of the True Cross;
but the crown, as it meets the eye, is anything but iron, being
one of the most superb specimens of jewelled golden workmanship,
as fine as those in the Treasure of Guerrazzar.

[Illustration: THE TREASURE OF GUERRAZZAR.]

The crown of King Alfred the Great is mentioned in an old inventory
as being of "gould wire worke, sett with slight stones, and two
little bells." A diadem is described by William of Malmsbury, "so
precious with jewels, that the splendour... threw sparks of light
so strongly on the beholder, that the more steadfastly any person
endeavoured to gaze, so much the more he was dazzled, and compelled
to avert the eyes!" In 1382 a circlet crown was purchased for Queen
Anne of Bohemia, being set with a large sapphire, a balas, and four
large pearls with a diamond in the centre.

The Cathedral at Amiens owns what is supposed to be the head of
John the Baptist, enshrined in a gilt cup of silver, and with bands
of jewelled work. The head is set upon a platter of gilded and
jewelled silver, covered with a disc of rock crystal. The whole,
though ancient, is enclosed in a modern shrine. The legend of the
preservation of the Baptist's head is that Herodias, afraid that
the saint might be miraculously restored to life if his head and
body were laid in the same grave, decided to hide the head until
this danger was past. Furtively, she concealed the relic for a time,
and then it was buried in Herod's palace. It was there opportunely
discovered by some monks in the fourth century. This "invention of
the head" (the word being interpreted according to the credulity of
the reader) resulted in its removal to Emesa, where it was exhibited
in 453. In 753 Marcellus, the Abbot of Emesa, had a vision by means
of which he re-discovered (or re-invented) the head, which had in
some way been lost sight of. Following the guidance of his dream,
he repaired to a grotto, and proceeded to exhume the long-suffering
relic. After many other similar and rather disconnected episodes,
it finally came into possession of the Bishop of Amiens in 1206.

A great calamity in early times was the loss of all the valuables
of King John of England. Between Lincolnshire and Norfolk the royal
cortege was crossing the Wash: the jewels were all swept away.
Crown and all were thus lost, in 1216.

Several crowns have been through vicissitudes. When Richard III.
died, on Bosworth Field, his crown was secured by a soldier and
hidden in a bush. Sir Reginald de Bray discovered it, and restored
it to its rightful place. But to balance such cases several of the
queens have brought to the national treasury their own crowns.
In 1340 Edward III. pawned even the queen's jewels to raise money
for fighting France.

The same inventory makes mention of certain treasures deposited
at Westminster: the values are attached to each of these, crowns,
plates, bracelets, and so forth. Also, with commendable zeal, a
list was kept of other articles stored in an iron chest, among which
are the items, "one liver coloured silk robe, very old, and worth
nothing," and "an old combe of horne, worth nothing." A frivolous
scene is described by Wood, when the notorious Republican, Marten,
had access to the treasure stored in Westminster. Some of the wits
of the period assembled in the treasury, and took out of the iron
chest several of its jewels, a crown, sceptre, and robes; these
they put upon the merry poet, George Withers, "who, being thus
crowned and royally arrayed, first marched about the room with a
stately gait, and afterwards, with a thousand ridiculous and apish
actions, exposed the sacred ornaments to contempt and laughter."
No doubt the "olde comb" played a suitable part in these
pranks,--perhaps it may even have served as orchestra.

One Sir Henry Mildmay, in 1649, was responsible for dreadful vandalism,
under the Puritan regime. Among other acts which he countenanced was
the destruction and sale of the wonderful Crown of King Alfred,
to which allusion has just been made. In the Will of the Earl of
Pembroke, in 1650, is this clause showing how unpopular Sir Henry
had become: "Because I threatened Sir Henry Mildmay, but did not
beat him, I give L50 to the footman who cudgelled him. Item, my
will is that the said Sir Harry shall not meddle with my jewels. I
knew him... when he handled the Crown jewels,... for which reason
I now name him the Knave of Diamonds."

Jewelled arms and trappings became very rich in the fifteenth century.
Pius II. writes of the German armour: "What shall I say of the
neck chains of the men, and the bridles of the horses, which are
made of the purest gold; and of the spears and scabbards which are
covered with jewels?" Spurs were also set with jewels, and often
damascened with gold, and ornamented with appropriate mottoes.

An inventory of the jewelled cups and reliquaries of Queen Jeanne
of Navarre, about 1570, reads like a museum. She had various gold
and jewelled dishes for banquets; one jewel is described as "Item,
a demoiselle of gold, represented as riding upon a horse, of mother
of pearl, standing upon a platform of gold, enriched with ten rubies,
six turquoises and three fine pearls." Another item is, "A fine rock
crystal set in gold, enriched with three rubies, three emeralds,
and a large sapphire, set transparently, the whole suspended from
a small gold chain."

It is time now to speak of the actual precious stones themselves,
which apart from their various settings are, after all, the real
jewels. According to Cellini there are only four precious stones:
he says they are made "by the four elements," ruby by fire, sapphire
by air, emerald by earth, and diamond by water. It irritated him
to have any one claim others as precious stones. "I have a thing
or two to say," he remarks, "in order not to scandalize a certain
class of men who call themselves jewellers, but may be better likened
to hucksters, or linen drapers, pawn brokers, or grocers... with a
maximum of credit and a minimum of brains... these dunderheads...
wag their arrogant tongues at me and cry, 'How about the chrysophrase,
or the jacynth, how about the aqua marine, nay more, how about the
garnet, the vermeil, the crysolite, the plasura, the amethyst?
Ain't these all stones and all different?' Yes, and why the devil
don't you add pearls, too, among the jewels, ain't they fish bones?"
Thus he classes the stones together, adding that the balas, though
light in colour, is a ruby, and the topaz a sapphire. "It is of the
same hardness, and though of a different colour, must be classified
with the sapphire: what better classification do you want? hasn't
the air got its sun?"

Cellini always set the coloured stones in a bezel or closed box
of gold, with a foil behind them. He tells an amusing story of
a ruby which he once set on a bit of frayed silk instead of on
the customary foil. The result happened to be most brilliant. The
jewellers asked him what kind of foil he had used, and he replied
that he had employed no foil. Then they exclaimed that he must have
tinted it, which was against all laws of jewelry. Again Benvenuto
swore that he had neither used foil, nor had he done anything forbidden
or unprofessional to the stone. "At this the jeweller got a little
nasty, and used strong language," says Cellini. They then offered
to pay well for the information if Cellini would inform them by what
means he had obtained so remarkably a lustre. Benvenuto, expressing
himself indifferent to pay, but "much honoured in thus being able to
teach his teachers," opened the setting and displayed his secret,
and all parted excellent friends.

Even so early as the thirteenth century, the jewellers of Paris had
become notorious for producing artificial jewels. Among their laws
was one which stipulated that "the jeweller was not to dye the
amethyst, or other false stones, nor mount them in gold leaf nor other
colour, nor mix them with rubies, emeralds, or other precious stones,
except as a crystal simply without mounting or dyeing."

One day Cellini had found a ruby which he believed to be set
dishonestly, that is, a very pale stone with a thick coating of
dragon's blood smeared on its back. When he took it to some of
his favourite "dunderheads," they were sure that he was mistaken,
saying that it had been set by a noted jeweller, and could not be
an imposition. So Benvenuto immediately removed the stone from
its setting, thereby exposing the fraud. "Then might that ruby have
been likened to the crow which tricked itself out in the feathers
of the peacock," observes Cellini, adding that he advised these
"old fossils in the art" to provide themselves with better eyes
than they then _wore_. "I could not resist saying this," chuckles
Benvenuto, "because all three of them wore great gig-lamps on their
noses; whereupon they all three gasped at each other, shrugged
their shoulders, and with God's blessing, made off." Cellini tells
of a Milanese jeweller who concocted a great emerald, by applying a
very thin layer of the real stone upon a large bit of green glass:
he says that the King of England bought it, and that the fraud
was not discovered for many years.

A commission was once given Cellini to make a magnificent crucifix
for a gift from the Pope to Emperor Charles V., but, as he expresses
it, "I was hindered from finishing it by certain beasts who had the
vantage of the Pope's ear," but when these evil whisperers had so
"gammoned the Pope," that he was dissuaded from the crucifix, the
Pope ordered Cellini to make a magnificent Breviary instead, so
that the "job" still remained in his hands.

Giovanni Pisano made some translucid enamels for the decorations of
the high altar in Florence, and also a jewelled clasp to embellish
the robe of a statue of the Virgin.

Ghiberti was not above turning his attention to goldsmithing, and
in 1428 made a seal for Giovanni de Medici, a cope-button and mitre
for Pope Martin V., and a gold nutre with precious stones weighing
five and a half pounds, for Pope Eugene IV.

Diamonds were originally cut two at a time, one cutting the other,
whence has sprung the adage, "diamond cut diamond." Cutting in
facets was thus the natural treatment of this gem. The practise
originated in India. Two diamonds rubbing against each other
systematically will in time form a facet on each. In 1475 it was
discovered by Louis de Berghem that diamonds could be cut by their
own dust.

It is an interesting fact in connection with the Kohinoor that
in India there had always been a legend that its owner should be
the ruler of India. Probably the ancient Hindoos among whom this
legend developed would be astonished to know that, although the
great stone is now the property of the English, the tradition is
still unbroken!

Marco Polo alludes to the treasures brought from the
Isle of Ormus, as "spices, pearls, precious stones, cloth of gold
and silver, elephant's teeth, and all other precious things from
India." In Balaxiam he says are found "ballasses and other precious
stones of great value. No man, on pain of death, dare either dig
such stones or carry them out of the country, for all those stones
are the King's. Other mountains also in this province yield stones
called lapis lazuli, whereof the best azure is made. The like is
not found in the world. These mines also yield silver, brass, and
lead." He speaks of the natives as wearing gold and silver earrings,
"with pearls and-other stones artificially wrought in them." In
a certain river, too, are found jasper and chalcedons.

Marco Polo's account of how diamonds are obtained is ingenuous
in its reckless defiance of fact. He says that in the mountains
"there are certain great deep valleys to the bottom of which there
is no access. Wherefore the men who go in search of the diamonds
take with them pieces of meat," which they throw into this deep
valley. He relates that the eagles, when they see these pieces of
meat, fly down and get them, and when they return, they settle on
the higher rocks, when the men raise a shout, and drive them off.
After the eagles have thus been driven away, "the men recover the
pieces of meat, and find them full of diamonds, which have stuck to
them. For the abundance of diamonds down in the depths," continues
Marco Polo, naively "is astonishing; but nobody can get down, and
if one could, it would be only to be incontinently devoured
by the serpents which are so rife there." A further account proceeds
thus: "The diamonds are so scattered and dispersed in the earth,
and lie so thin, that in the most plentiful mines it is rare to
find one in digging;... they are frequently enclosed in clods,...
some... have the earth so fixed about them that till they grind
them on a rough stone with sand, they cannot move it sufficiently
to discover they are transparent or... to know them from other
stones. At the first opening of the mine, the unskilful labourers
sometimes, to try what they have found, lay them on a great stone,
and, striking them one with another, to their costly experience,
discover that they have broken a diamond.... They fill a cistern
with water, soaking therein as much of the earth they dig out of
the mine as it can hold at one time, breaking the clods, picking
out the great stones, and stirring it with shovels... then they
open a vent, letting out the foul water, and supply it with clean,
till the earthy substance be all washed away, and only the gravelly
one remains at the bottom." A process of sifting and drying is then
described, and the gravel is all spread out to be examined, "they
never examine the stuff they have washed but between the hours of
ten and three, lest any cloud, by interposing, intercept the brisk
beams of the sun, which they hold very necessary to assist them
in their search, the diamonds constantly reflecting them when they
shine on them, rendering themselves thereby the more conspicuous."

The earliest diamond-cutter is frequently mentioned as Louis de
Berquem de Bruges, in 1476. But Laborde finds earlier records of
the art of cutting this gem: there was in Paris a diamond-cutter
named Herman, in 1407. The diamond cutters of Paris were quite
numerous in that year, and lived in a special district known as "la
Courarie, where reside the workers in diamonds and other stones."

Finger rings almost deserve a history to themselves, for their
forms and styles are legion. Rings were often made of glass in the
eleventh century. Theophilus tells in a graphic and interesting
manner how they were constructed. He recommends the use of a bar
of iron, as thick as one's finger, set in a wooden handle, "as a
lance is joined in its pike." There should also be a large piece
of wood, at the worker's right hand, "the thickness of an arm,
dug into the ground, and reaching to the top of the window." On
the left of the furnace a little clay trench is to be provided.
"Then, the glass being cooked," one is admonished to take the little
iron in the wooden handle, dip it into the molten glass, and pick
up a small portion, and "prick it into the wood, that the glass
may be pierced through, and instantly warm it in the flame, and
strike it twice upon the wood, that the glass may be dilated, and
with quickness revolve your hand with the same iron;" when the
ring is thus formed, it is to be quickly thrown into the trench.
Theophilus adds, "If you wish to vary your rings with other colours...
take... glass of another colour, surrounding the glass of the ring
with it in the manner of a thread... you can also place upon the
ring glass of another kind, as a gem, and warm it in the fire that
it may adhere." One can almost see these rings from this accurate
description of their manufacture.

The old Coronation Ring, "the wedding ring of England," was a gold
ring with a single fine balas ruby; the pious tradition had it
that this ring was given to Edward the Confessor by a beggar, who
was really St. John the Evangelist in masquerade! The palace where
this unique event occurred was thereupon named Have-ring-at-Bower.
The Stuart kings all wore this ring and until it came to George
IV., with other Stuart bequests, it never left the royal Stuart
line.

Edward I. owned a sapphire ring made by St. Dunstan. Dunstan was
an industrious art spirit, being reported by William of Malmsbury
as "taking great delight in music, painting, and engraving." In
the "Ancren Riwle," a book of directions for the cloistered life
of women, nuns are forbidden to wear "ne ring ne brooche," and
to deny themselves other personal adornments.

Archbishops seem to have possessed numerous rings in ancient times.
In the romance of "Sir Degrevant" a couplet alludes to:

"Archbishops with rings
More than fifteen."

Episcopal rings were originally made of sapphires, said to be typical
of the cold austerity of the life of the wearer. Later, however,
the carbuncle became a favourite, which was supposed to suggest fiery
zeal for the faith. Perhaps the compromise of the customary amethyst,
which is now most popularly used, for Episcopal rings, being a
combination of the blue and the red, may typify a blending of more
human qualities!

[Illustration: HEBREW RING]

In an old will of 1529, a ring was left as a bequest to a relative,
described as "a table diamond set with black aniell, meate for my
little finger."

The accompanying illustration represents a Hebrew ring, surmounted
by a little mosque, and having the inscription "Mazul Toub" (God
be with you, or Good luck to you).

It was the custom in Elizabethan times to wear "posie rings" (or
poesie rings) in which inscriptions were cut, such as, "Let likinge
Laste," "Remember the ? that is in pain," or, "God saw fit this
knot to knit," and the like. These posie rings are so called
because of the little poetical sentiments associated with them.
They were often used as engagement rings, and sometimes as wedding
rings. In an old Saxon ring is the inscription, "Eanred made me and
Ethred owns me." One of the mottoes in an old ring is pathetic;
evidently it was worn by an invalid, who was trying to be patient,
"Quant Dieu Plera melior sera." (When it shall please God, I shall
be better.) And in a small ring set with a tiny diamond, "This
sparke shall grow." An agreeable and favourite "posie" was

"The love is true
That I O U."

A motto in a ring owned by Lady Cathcart was inscribed on the occasion
of her fourth marriage; with laudable ambition, she observes,

"If I survive,
I will have five."

It is to these "posie rings" that Shakespeare has reference when
he makes Jaques say to Orlando: "You are full of pretty answers:
have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned
them out of rings?"

In the Isle of Man there was once a law that any girl who had been
wronged by a man had the right to redress herself in one of three
ways: she was given a sword, a rope and a ring, and she could decide
whether she would behead him, hang him, or marry him. Tradition
states that the ring was almost invariably the weapon chosen by
the lady.

Superstition has ordained that certain stones should cure certain
evils: the blood-stone was of very general efficacy, it was claimed,
and the opal, when folded in a bay leaf, had the power of rendering
the owner invisible. Some stones, especially the turquoise, turned
pale or became deeper in hue according to the state of the owner's
health; the owner of a diamond was invincible; the possession of an
agate made a man amiable, and eloquent. Whoever wore an amethyst
was proof against intoxication, while a jacynth superinduced sleep
in cases of insomnia. Bed linen was often embroidered, and set with
bits of jacynth, and there is even a record of diamonds having
been used in the decoration of sheets! Another entertaining instance
of credulity was the use of "cramp rings." These were rings blessed
by the queen, and supposed to cure all manner of cramps, just as the
king's touch was supposed to cure scrofula. When a queen died, the
demand for these rings became a panic: no more could be produced,
until a new queen was crowned. After the beheading of Anne Boleyn,
Husee writes to his patroness: "Your ladyship shall receive of this
bearer nine cramp rings of silver. John Williams says he never
had so few of gold as this year!"

A stone engraved with the figure of a hare was believed to be valuable
in exorcising the devil. That of a dog preserved the owner from
"dropsy or pestilence;" a versatile ring indeed! An old French book
speaks of an engraved stone with the image of Pegasus being particularly
healthful for warriors; it was said to give them "boldness and swiftness
in flight." These two virtues sound a trifle incompatible!

The turquoise was supposed to be especially sympathetic. According
to Dr. Donne:

"A compassionate turquoise, that cloth tell
By looking pale, the owner is not well,"

must have been a very sensitive stone.

There was a physician in the fourth century who was famous for his
cures of colic and biliousness by means of an iron ring engraved
with an exorcism requesting the bile to go and take possession of
a bird! There was also a superstition that fits could be cured
by a ring made of "sacrament money." The sufferer was obliged to
stand at the church door, begging a penny from every unmarried
man who passed in or out; this was given to a silversmith, who
exchanged it at the cathedral for "sacrament money," out of which
he made a ring. If this ring was worn by the afflicted person,
the seizures were said to cease.

The superstition concerning the jewel in the toad's head was a
strangely persistent one: it is difficult to imagine what real
foundation there could ever have been for the idea. An old writer
gives directions for getting this stone, which the toad in his life
time seems to have guarded most carefully. "A rare good way to get
the stone out of a toad," he says, "is to put a... toad... into
an earthen pot: put the same into an ant's hillocke, and cover
the same with earth, which toad... the ants will eat, so that the
bones... and stone will be left in the pot." Boethius once stayed
up all night watching a toad in the hope that it might relinquish
its treasure; but he complained that nothing resulted "to gratify
the great pangs of his whole night's restlessness."

An old Irish legend says that "the stone Adamant in the land of
India grows no colder in any wind or snow or ice; there is no heat
in it under burning sods" (this is such an Hibernian touch! The
peat fuel was the Celtic idea of a heating system), "nothing is
broken from it by striking of axes and hammers; there is one thing
only breaks that stone, the blood of the Lamb at the Mass; and
every king that has taken that stone in his right hand before going
into battle, has always gained the victory." There is also a
superstition regarding the stone Hibien, which is said to flame
like a fiery candle in the darkness, "it spills out poison before
it in a vessel; every snake that comes near to it or crosses it
dies on the moment." Another stone revered in Irish legend is the
Stone of Istien, which is found "in the brains of dragons after
their deaths," and a still more capable jewel seems to be the Stone
of Fanes, within which it is claimed that the sun, moon, and twelve
stars are to be seen. "In the hearts of the dragons it is always
found that make their journey under the sea. No one having it in
his hand can tell any lie until he has put it from him; no race or
army could bring it into a house where there is one that has made
way with his father. At the hour of matins it gives out sweet music
that there is not the like of under heaven."

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