Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

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Niello, with which the chalice of Theophilus is also to be enriched,
stands in relation to the more beautiful art of enamel, as drawing
does to painting, and it is well to consider it here. Both the
Romans and the Anglo-Saxons understood its use. It has been employed
as an art ever since the sixth and seventh centuries. The term
"niello" probably is an abbreviation of the Italian word "nigellus"
(black); the art is that of inlaying an engraved surface with a
black paste, which is thoroughly durable and hard as the metal
itself in most cases, the only difference being in flexibility;
if the metal plate is bent, the niello will crack and flake off.

[Illustration: FINIGUERRA'S PAX, FLORENCE]

Niello is more than simply a drawing on metal. That would come
under the head of engraving. A graver is used to cut out the design
on the surface of the silver, which is simply a polished plane. When
the drawing has been thus incised, a black enamel, made of lead,
lamp black, and other substances, is filled into the interstices,
and rubbed in; when quite dry and hard, this is polished. The result
is a black enamel which is then fused into the silver, so that
the whole is one surface, and the decoration becomes part of the
original plate. The process as described by Theophilus is as follows:
"Compose the niello in this manner; take pure silver and divide
it into equal parts, adding to it a third part of pure copper,
and taking yellow sulphur, break it very small... and when you
have liquefied the silver with the copper, stir it evenly with
charcoal, and instantly pour into it lead and sulphur." This niello
paste is then made into a stick, and heated until "it glows: then
with another forceps, long and thin, hold the niello and rub it
all over the places which you wish to make black, until the drawing
be full, and carrying it away from the fire, make it smooth with a
flat file, until the silver appear." When Theophilus has finished
his directions, he adds: "And take great care that no further work
is required." To polish the niello, he directs us to "pumice it
with a damp stone, until it is made everywhere bright."

There are various accounts of how Finiguerra, who was a worker
in niello in Florence, discovered by its means the art of steel
engraving. It is probably only a legendary narrative, but it is
always told as one of the apocryphal stories when the origin of
printing is discussed, and may not be out of place here. Maso
Finiguerra, a Florentine, had just engraved the plate for his famous
niello, a Pax which is now to be seen in the Bargello, and had
filled it in with the fluid enamel, which was standing waiting
until it should be dry. Then, according to some authorities, a
piece of paper blew upon the damp surface, on which, after carefully
removing it, Maso found his design was impressed; others state that
it was through the servant's laying a damp cloth upon it, that
the principle of printing from an incised plate was suggested.
At any rate, Finiguerra took the hint, it is said, and made an
impression on paper, rolling it, as one would do with an etching
or engraving.

In the Silver Chamber in the Pitti Palace is a Pax, by Mantegna,
made in the same way as that by Finiguerra, and bearing comparison
with it. The engraving is most delicate, and it is difficult
to imagine a better specimen of the art. The Madonna and Child,
seated in an arbour, occupy the centre of the composition, which
is framed with jewelled bands, the frame being divided into sixteen
compartments, in each of which is seen a tiny and exquisite picture.
The work on the arbour of roses in which the Virgin sits is of
remarkable quality, as well as the small birds and animals
introduced into the composition. In the background, St. Christopher
is seen crossing the river with the Christ Child on his back, while
in the water a fish and a swan are visible.

In Valencia in Spain may be seen a chalice which has been supposed
to be the very cup in which Our Saviour instituted the Communion.
The cup itself is of sardonyx, and of fine form. The base is made
of the same stone, and handles and bands are of gold, adorned with
black enamel. Pearls, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds are set in
profusion about the stem and base. It is a work of the epoch of
Imperial Rome.

In England, one of the most perfect specimens of fine, close work,
is the Wilton Chalice, dating from the twelfth century. The Warwick
Bowl, too, is of very delicate workmanship, and both are covered
with minute scenes and figures. One of the most splendid treasures
in this line is the crozier of William Wyckham, now in Oxford.
It is strictly national in style.

The agreement entered into between Henry VII., and Abbot Islip,
for the building of the chapel of that king in Westminster, is
extant. It is bound in velvet and bossed with enamels. It is an
interesting fact that some of the enamels are in the Italian
style, while others are evidently English.

Limoges was the most famous centre of the art of enamelling in
the twelfth century, the work being known as Opus de Limogia, or
Labor Limogiae. Limoges was a Roman settlement, and enamels were
made there as early as the time of Philostratus. Champleve enamel,
while it was not produced among the Greeks, nor even in Byzantine
work, was almost invariable at Limoges in the earlier days: one
can readily tell the difference between a Byzantine enamel and an
early Limoges enamel by this test, when there is otherwise sufficient
similarity of design to warrant the question.

Some of the most beautiful enamels of Limoges were executed in what
was called basse-taille, or transparent enamel on gold grounds, which
had been first prepared in bas-relief. Champleve enamel was often
used on copper, for such things as pastoral staves, reliquaries, and
larger bits of church furniture. The enamel used on copper is usually
opaque, and somewhat coarser in texture than that employed on gold
or silver. Owing to their additional toughness, these specimens
are usually in perfect preservation. In 1327, Guillaume de Harie,
in his will, bequeathed 800 francs to make two high tombs, to be
covered with Limoges enamel, one for himself, and the other for
"Blanche d'Avange, my dear companion."

[Illustration: ITALIAN ENAMELLED CROZIER, 14TH CENTURY]

An interesting form of cloisonne enamel was that known as "plique
a jour," which consists of a filigree setting with the enamel
in transparent bits, without any metallic background. It is
still made in many parts of the world. When held to the light
it resembles minute arrangements of stained glass. Francis I.
showed Benvenuto Cellini a wonderful bowl of this description,
and asked Cellini if he could possibly imagine how the result
was attained. "Sacred Majesty," replied Benvenuto, "I can
tell you exactly how it is done," and he proceeded to explain
to the astonished courtiers how the bowl was constructed, bit by
bit, inside a bowl of thin iron lined with clay. The wires were
fastened in place with glue until the design was complete, and
then the enamel was put in place, the whole being fused together at
the soldering. The clay form to which all this temporarily adhered
was then removed, and the work, transparent and ephemeral, was
ready to stand alone.

King John gave to the city of Lynn a magnificent cup of gold, enamelled,
with figures of courtiers of the period, engaged in the sports of
hawking and hare-hunting, and dressed in the costume of the king's
reign. "King John gave to the Corporation a rich cup and cover,"
says Mackarel, "weighing seventy-three ounces, which is preserved
to this day and upon all public occasions and entertainments used
with some uncommon ceremonies at drinking the health of the King
or Queen, and whoever goes to visit the Mayor must drink out of
this cup, which contains a full pint." The colours of the enamels
which are used as flat values in backgrounds to the little silver
figures, are dark rose, clear blue, and soft green. The dresses of
the persons are also picked out in the same colours, varied from
the grounds. This cup was drawn by John Carter in 1787, he having
had much trouble in getting permission to study the original for
that purpose! He took letters of introduction to the Corporation,
but they appeared to suspect him of some imposture; at first they
refused to entertain his proposal at all, but after several
applications, he was allowed to have the original before him, in
a closed room, in company with a person appointed by them but at
his expense, to watch him and see that no harm came to the precious
cup!

The translucent enamels on relief were made a great deal by the
Italian goldsmiths; Vasari alludes to this class of work as "a
species of painting united with sculpture."

As enamel came by degrees to be used as if it were paint, one of
the chief charms of the art died. The limits of this art were its
strength, and simple straight-forward use of the material was its
best expression. The method of making a painted enamel was as follows.
The design was laid out with a stilus on a copper plate. Then a
flux of plain enamel was fused on to the surface, all over it. The
drawing was then made again, on the same lines, in a dark medium,
and the colours were laid flat inside the dark lines, accepting
these lines as if they had been wires around cloisons. All painted
enamels had to be enamelled on the back as well, to prevent warping
in the furnace when the shrinkage took place. After each layer of
colour the whole plate was fired. In the fifteenth century these
enamels were popular and retained some semblance of respect for the
limitation of material; later, greater facility led, as it does in
most of the arts, to a decadence in taste, and florid pictures, with
as many colours and shadows as would appear in an oil painting,
resulted. Here and there, where special metallic brilliancy was
desired, a leaf of gold was laid under the colour of some transparent
enamel, giving a decorative lustre. These bits of brilliant metal
were known as _paillons_.

When Limoges had finally become the royal manufactory of enamels,
under Francis I., the head of the works was Leonard Limousin, created
"Valet de Chambre du Roi," to show his sovereign's appreciation.
Remarkable examples of the work of Leonard Limousin, executed in
1547, are the large figures of the Apostles to be seen in the church
of St. Pierre, at Chartres, where they are ranged about the apsidal
chapel. They are painted enamels on copper sheets twenty-four by
eleven inches, and are in a wonderful state of preservation. They
were the gift of Henri II. to Diane de Poictiers and were brought
to Chartres from the Chateau d'Anet. These enamels, being on a
white ground, have something the effect of paintings in Faience;
the colouring is delicate, and they have occasional gold touches.

A treatise by William of Essex directs the artist how to prepare
a plate for a painted enamel, such as were used in miniature work.
He says "To make a plate for the artist to paint upon: a piece of
gold or copper being chosen, of requisite dimensions, and varying
from about 1/18 to 1/16 of an inch in thickness, is covered with
pulverized enamel, and passed through the fire, until it becomes
of a white heat; another coating of enamel is then added, and the
plate again fired; afterwards a thin layer of a substance called
flux is laid upon the surface of the enamel, and the plate
undergoes the action of heat for a third time. It is now ready for
the painter to commence his picture upon."

Leonard Limousin painted from 1532 until 1574. He used the process
as described by William of Essex (which afterwards became very
popular for miniaturists), and also composed veritable pictures
of his own design. It is out of our province to trace the history
of the Limoges enamellers after this period.

CHAPTER IV

OTHER METALS

The "perils that environ men that meddle with cold iron" are many;
but those who attempt to control hot iron are also to be respected,
when they achieve an artistic result with this unsympathetic metal,
which by nature is entirely lacking in charm, in colour and texture,
and depends more upon a proper application of design than any other,
in order to overcome the obstacles to beauty with which it is beset.

"Rust hath corrupted," unfortunately, many interesting antiquities
in iron, so that only a limited number of specimens of this metal
have come down to us from very early times; one of the earliest
in England is a grave-stone of cast metal, of the date 1350: it
is decorated with a cross, and has the epitaph, "Pray for the soul
of Joan Collins."

The process of casting iron was as follows. The moulds were made
of a sandy substance, composed of a mixture of brick dust, loam,
plaster, and charcoal. A bed of this sand was made, and into it
was pressed a wooden or metal pattern. When this was removed, the
imprint remained in the sand. Liquid metal was run into the mould
so formed, and would cool into the desired shape. As with a
plaster cast, it was necessary to employ two such beds, the sand
being firmly held in boxes, if the object was to be rounded, and
then the two halves thus made were put together. Flat objects,
such as fire-backs, could be run into a single mould.

Bartholomew, in his book "On the Properties of Things," makes certain
statements about iron which are interesting: "Though iron cometh of
the earth, yet it is most hard and sad, and therefore with beating
and smiting it suppresseth and dilateth all other metal, and maketh
it stretch on length and on breadth." This is the key-note to the
work of a blacksmith: it is what he has done from the first, and
is still doing.

In Spain there have been iron mines ever since the days when Pliny
wrote and alluded to them, but there are few samples in that country
to lead us to regard it as aesthetic in its purpose until the fifteenth
century.

For tempering iron instruments, there are recipes given by the
monk Theophilus, but they are unfortunately quite unquotable, being
treated with mediaeval frankness of expression.

St. Dunstan was the patron of goldsmiths and blacksmiths. He was
born in 925, and lived in Glastonbury, where he became a monk rather
early in life. He not only worked in metal, but was a good musician
and a great scholar, in fact a genuine rounded man of culture. He
built an organ, no doubt something like the one which Theophilus
describes, which, Bede tells us, being fitted with "brass pipes,
filled with air from the bellows, uttered a grand and most sweet
melody." Dunstan was a favourite at court, in the reign of King
Edmund. Enemies were plentiful, however, and they spread the report
that Dunstan evoked demoniac aid in his almost magical work in its
many departments. It was said that occasionally the evil spirits
were too aggravating, and that in such cases Dunstan would stand
no nonsense. There is an old verse:

"St. Dunstan, so the story goes,
Once pulled the devil by the nose,
With red hot tongs, which made him roar
That he was heard three miles or more!"

The same story is told of St. Eloi, and probably of most of the
mediaeval artistic spirits who were unfortunate enough to be human
in their temperaments and at the same time pious and struggling. He
was greatly troubled by visitations such as persecuted St. Anthony.
On one occasion, it is related that he was busy at his forge when
this fiend was unusually persistent: St. Dunstan turned upon the
demon, and grasped its nose in the hot pincers, which proved a most
successful exorcism. In old portraits, St. Dunstan is represented
in full ecclesiastical habit, holding the iron pincers as symbols
of his prowess.

He became Archbishop of Canterbury after having held the Sees of
Worcester and London. He journeyed to Rome, and received the pallium
of Primate of the Anglo-Saxons, from Pope John XII. Dunstan was a
righteous statesman, twice reproving the king for evil deeds, and
placing his Royal Highness under the ban of the Church for immoral
conduct! St. Dunstan died in 988.

[Illustration: WROUGHT IRON HINGE, FRANKFORT]

Wrought iron has been in use for many centuries for hinges and
other decorations on doors; a necessity to every building in a
town from earliest times. The word "hinge" comes from the Saxon,
_hengen_, to hang. Primitive hinges were sometimes sockets cut
in stone, as at Torcello; but soon this was proved a clumsy and
inconvenient method of hanging a door, and hinges more simple in
one way, and yet more ornate, came into fashion. Iron hinges were
found most useful when they extended for some distance on to the
door; this strengthened the door against the invasion of pirates,
when the church was the natural citadel of refuge for the inhabitants
of a town, and also held it firmly from warping. At first single
straps of iron were clamped on: then the natural craving for beauty
prevailed, and the hinges developed, flowering out into scrolls and
leaves, and spreading all over the doors, as one sees them constantly
in mediaeval examples. The general scheme usually followed was a
straight strap of iron flanked by two curving horns like a crescent,
and this motive was elaborated until a positive lace of iron, often
engraved or moulded, covered the surface of the door, as in the
wonderful work of Biscornette at Notre Dame in Paris.

Biscornette was a very mysterious worker, and no one ever saw him
constructing the hinges. Reports went round that the devil was helping
him, that he had sold his soul to the King of Darkness in order to
enlist his assistance in his work; an instance of aesthetic altruism
almost commendable in its exotic zeal. Certain jealous artificers
even went so far as to break off bits of the meandering iron, to
test it, but with no result; they could not decide whether it was
cast or wrought. Later a legend grew up explaining the reason why
the central door was not as ornate as the side doors: the story was
that the devil was unable to assist Biscornette on this door because
it was the aperture through which the Host passed in processions. It
is more likely, however, that the doors were originally uniform,
and that the iron was subsequently removed for some other reason.
The design is supposed to represent the Earthly Paradise. Sauval
says: "The sculptured birds and ornaments are marvellous. They are
made of wrought iron, the invention of Biscornette and which died
with him. He worked the iron with an almost incredible industry,
rendering it flexible and tractable, and gave it all the forms
and scrolls he wished, with a 'douceur et une gentillesse' which
surprised and astonished all the smiths." The iron master Gaegart
broke off fragments of the iron, and no member of the craft has
ever been able to state with certainty just how the work was
accomplished. Some think that it is cast, and then treated with
the file; others say that it must have been executed by casting
entire, with no soldering. In any case, the secret will never be
divulged, for no one was in the confidence of Biscornette.

Norman blacksmiths and workers in wrought iron were more plentiful
than goldsmiths. They had, in those warlike times, more call for
arms and the massive products of the forge than for gaudy jewels and
table appointments. One of the doors of St. Alban's Abbey displays the
skill of Norman smiths dealing with this stalwart form of ornament.

Among special artists in iron whose names have survived is that
of Jehan Tonquin, in 1388. Earlier than that, a cutler, Thomas
de Fieuvillier, is mentioned, as having flourished about 1330.

[Illustration: BISCORNETTE'S DOORS AT PARIS]

Elaborate iron work is rare in Germany; the Germans always excelled
rather in bronze than in the sterner metal. At St. Ursula's in
Cologne there are iron floriated hinges, but the design and idea
are French, and not native.

One may usually recognize a difference between French and English
wrought iron, for the French is often in detached pieces, not an
outgrowth of the actual hinge itself, and when this is found in
England, it indicates French work.

Ornaments in iron were sometimes cut out of flat sheet metal, and
then hammered into form. In stamping this flat work with embossed
effect, the smith had to work while the iron was hot,--as Sancho
Panza expressed it, "Praying to God and hammering away." Dies were
made, after a time, into which the design could be beaten with
less effort than in the original method.

One of the quaintest of iron doors is at Krems, where the gate is
made up of square sheets of iron, cut into rude pierced designs,
giving scenes from the New Testament, and hammered up so as to be
slightly embossed.

The Guild of Blacksmiths in Florence flourished as early as the
thirteenth century. It covered workers in many metals, copper,
iron, brass, and pewter included. Among the rules of the Guild
was one permitting members to work for ready money only. They were
not allowed to advertise by street crying, and were fined if they
did so. The Arms of the Guild was a pair of furnace tongs upon a
white field. Among the products of the forge most in demand were
the iron window-gratings so invariable on all houses, and called
by Michelangelo "kneeling windows," on account of the bulging shape
of the lower parts.

One famous iron worker carried out the law of the Guild both in
spirit and letter to the extent of insisting upon payment in advance!
This was Nicolo Grosso, who worked about 1499. Vasari calls him
the "money grabber." His specialty was to make the beautiful torch
holders and lanterns such as one sees on the Strozzi Palace and
in the Bargello.

In England there were Guilds of Blacksmiths; in Middlesex one was
started in 1434, and members were known as "in the worship of St.
Eloi." Members were alluded to as "Brethren and Sisteren,"--this
term would fill a much felt vacancy! Some of the Guilds exacted
fines from all members who did not pay a proper proportion of their
earnings to the Church.

Another general use of iron for artistic purposes was in the manufacture
of grilles. Grilles were used in France and England in cathedrals.
The earliest Christian grille is a pierced bronze screen in the
Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.

In Hildesheim is an original form of grille; the leaves and rosettes
in the design are pierced, instead of being beaten up into bosses.
This probably came from the fact that the German smith did not
understand the Frankish drawing, and supposed that the shaded portions
of the work were intended to be open work. The result, however,
is most happy, and a new feature was thus introduced into grille
work.

[Illustration: WROUGHT IRON FROM THE BARGELLO, FLORENCE]

Many grilles were formed by the smith's taking an iron bar and,
under the intense heat, splitting it into various branches, each
of which should be twisted in a different way. Another method was
to use the single slighter bar for the foundation of the design,
and welding on other volutes of similar thickness to make the scroll
work associated with wrought iron.

Some of the smiths who worked at Westminster Abbey are known by
name; Master Henry Lewis, in 1259, made the iron work for the tomb
of Henry III. A certain iron fragment is signed Gilibertus. The iron
on the tomb of Queen Eleanor is by Thomas de Leighton, in 1294.
Lead workers also had a place assigned to them in the precincts,
which was known as "the Plumbery." In 1431 Master Roger Johnson
was enjoined to arrest or press smiths into service in order to
finish the ironwork on the tomb of Edward IV.

Probably the most famous use of iron in Spain is in the stupendous
"_rejas_," or chancel screens of wrought iron; but these are nearly
all of a late Renaissance style, and hardly come within the scope
of this volume. The requirements of Spanish cathedrals, too, for
wrought iron screens for all the side chapels, made plenty of work
for the iron masters. In fact, the "_rejeros_," or iron master, was
as regular an adjunct to a cathedral as an architect or a painter.
Knockers were often very handsome in Spain, and even nail heads
were decorated.

An interesting specimen of iron work is the grille that surrounds
the tomb of the Scaligers in Verolla. It is not a hard stiff
structure, but is composed of circular forms, each made separately,
and linked together with narrow bands, so that the construction is
flexible, and is more like a gigantic piece of chain mail than an
iron fence.

Quentin Matsys was known as the "blacksmith of Antwerp," and is
reported to have left his original work among metals to become a
painter. This was done in order to marry the lady of his choice, for
she refused to join her fate to that of a craftsman. She, however,
was ready to marry a painter. Quentin, therefore, gave up his hammer
and anvil, and began to paint Madonnas that he might prosper in his
suit. Some authorities, however, laugh at this story, and claim
that the specimens of iron work which are shown as the early works
of Matsys date from a time when he would have been only ten or
twelve years old, and that they must therefore have been the work
of his father, Josse Matsys, who was a locksmith. The well-cover
in Antwerp, near the cathedral, is always known as Quentin Matsys'
well. It is said that this was not constructed until 1470, while
Quentin was born in 1466.

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