Arts and Crafts in the Middle Ages

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

The iron work of the tomb of the Duke of Burgundy, in Windsor,
is supposed to be the work of Quentin Matsys, and is considered
the finest grille in England. It is wrought with such skill and
delicacy that it is more like the product of the goldsmith's art
than that of the blacksmith.

[Illustration: MOORISH KEYS, SEVILLE]

Another object of utility which was frequently ornamented was the
key. The Key of State, especially, was so treated. Some are nine
or ten inches long, having been used to present to visiting grandees
as typical of the "Freedom of the City." Keys were often decorated
with handles having the appearance of Gothic tracery. In an old
book published in 1795, there is an account of the miraculous Keys
of St. Denis, made of silver, which they apply to the faces of
these persons who have been so unfortunate as to be bitten by mad
dogs, and who received certain and immediate relief in only touching
them. A key in Valencia, over nine inches in length, is richly
embossed, while the wards are composed of decorative letters, looking
at first like an elaborate sort of filigree, but finally resolving
themselves into the autographic statement: "It was made by Ahmed
Ahsan." It is a delicate piece of thirteenth or fourteenth century
work in iron.

Another old Spanish key has a Hebrew inscription round the handle:
"The King of Kings will open: the King of the whole Earth will
enter," and, in the wards, in Spanish, "God will open, the King
will enter."

The iron smiths of Barcelona formed a Guild in the thirteenth century:
it is to be regretted that more of their work could not have descended
to us.

A frank treatment of locks and bolts, using them as decorations,
instead of treating them as disgraces, upon the surface of a door,
is the only way to make them in any degree effective. As Pugin has
said, it is possible to use nails, screws, and rivets, so that
they become "beautiful studs and busy enrichments." Florentine
locksmiths were specially famous; there also was a great fashion
for damascened work in that city, and it was executed with much
elegance.

In blacksmith's work, heat was used with the hammer at each stage
of the work, while in armourer's or locksmith's work, heat was
employed only at first, to achieve the primitive forms, and then
the work was carried on with chisel and file on the cold metal.
Up to the fourteenth century the work was principally that of the
blacksmith, and after that, of the locksmith.

The mention of arms and armour in a book of these proportions must
be very slight; the subject is a vast one, and no effort to treat
it with system would be satisfactory in so small a space. But a
few curious and significant facts relating to the making of armour
may be cited.

The rapid decay of iron through rust--rapid, that is to say, in
comparison with other metals--is often found to have taken place when
the discovery of old armour has been made; so that gold ornaments,
belonging to a sword or other weapon, may be found in excavating,
while the iron which formed the actual weapon has disappeared.

Primitive armour was based on a leather foundation, hence the name
cuirass, was derived from _cuir_ (leather). In a former book I have
alluded to the armour of the nomadic tribes, which is described by
Pausanias as coarse coats of mail made out of the hoofs of horses,
split, and laid overlapping each other, making them "something like
dragon's scales," as Pausanias explains; adding for the benefit
of those who are unfamiliar with dragons' anatomy, "Whoever has
not _yet_ seen a dragon, has, at any rate, seen a pine cone still
green. These are equally like in appearance to the surface of this
armour." These horny scales of tough hoofs undoubtedly suggested,
at a later date, the use of thick leather as a form of protection,
and the gradual evolution may be imagined.

The art of the armourer was in early mediaeval times the art of the
chain maker. The chain coat, or coats of mail, reached in early
days as far as the knees. Finally this developed into an entire
covering for the man, with head gear as well; of course this form
of armour allowed of no real ornamentation, for there was no space
larger than the links of the chain upon which to bestow decoration.
Each link of a coat of mail was brought round into a ring, the ends
overlapped, and a little rivet inserted. Warriors trusted to no
solder or other mode of fastening. All the magnificence of knightly
apparel was concentrated in the surcoat, a splendid embroidered or
gem-decked tunic to the knees, which was worn over the coat of
mail. These surcoats were often trimmed with costly furs, ermine
or vair, the latter being similar to what we now call squirrel,
being part gray and part white. Cinderella's famous slipper was
made of "vair," which, through a misapprehension in being translated
"verre," has become known as a glass slipper.

[Illustration: ARMOUR, SHOWING MAIL DEVELOPING INTO PLATE]

After a bit, the makers of armour discovered that much tedious
labor in chain making might be spared, if one introduced a large
plate of solid metal on the chest and back. This was in the thirteenth
century. The elbows and knees were also treated in this way, and in
the fourteenth century, the principle of armour had changed to a set
of separate plates fastened together by links. This was the evolution
from mail to plate armour. A description of Charlemagne as he appeared
on the field of battle, in his armour, is given by the Monk of
St. Gall, his biographer, and is dramatic. "Then could be seen
the iron Charles, helmeted with an iron helmet, his iron breast
and broad shoulders protected with an iron breast plate; an iron
spear was raised on high in his left hand, his right always rested
on his unconquered iron falchion.... His shield was all of iron,
his charger was iron coloured and iron hearted.... The fields and
open spaces were filled with iron; a people harder than iron paid
universal homage to the hardness of iron. The horror of the dungeon
seemed less than the bright gleam of iron. 'Oh, the iron! woe for
the iron!' was the confused cry that rose from the citizens. The
strong walls shook at the sight of iron: the resolution of young
and old fell before the iron."

By the end of the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries, whole
suits of armour were almost invariable, and then came the opportunity
for the goldsmith, the damascener, and the niellist. Some of the
leading artists, especially in Italy, were enlisted in designing
and decorating what might be called the _armour-de-luxe_ of the
warrior princes! The armour of horses was as ornate as that of
the riders.

The sword was always the most imposingly ornamented
part of a knight's equipment, and underwent various modifications
which are interesting to note. At first, it was the only weapon
invariably at hand: it was enormously large, and two hands were
necessary in wielding it. As the arquebuse came into use, the sword
took a secondary position: it became lighter and smaller. And ever
since 1510 it is a curious fact that the decorations of swords
have been designed to be examined when the sword hangs with the
point down; the earlier ornament was adapted to being seen at its
best when the sword was held upright, as in action. Perhaps the
later theory of decoration is more sensible, for it is certain
that neither a warrior nor his opponent could have occasion to
admire fine decoration at a time when the sword was drawn! That
the arts should be employed to satisfy the eye in times of peace,
sufficed the later wearers of ornamented swords.

Toledo blades have always been famous, and rank first among the
steel knives of the world. Even in Roman times, and of course under
the Moors, Toledo led in this department. The process of making a
Toledo blade was as follows. There was a special fine white sand
on the banks of the Tagus, which was used to sprinkle on the blade
when it was red hot, before it was sent on to the forger's. When
the blade was red hot from being steeped four-fifths of its length
in flame, it was dropped point first into a bucket of water. If it
was not perfectly straight when it was withdrawn, it was beaten
into shape, more sand being first put upon it. After this the
remaining fifth of the blade was subjected to the fire, and was
rubbed with suet while red hot; the final polish of the whole sword
was produced by emery powder on wooden wheels.

[Illustration: DAMASCENED HELMET]

Damascening was a favourite method of ornamenting choice suits
of armour, and was also applied to bronzes, cabinets, and such
pieces of metal as lent themselves to decoration. The process began
like niello: little channels for the design were hollowed out, in
the iron or bronze, and then a wire of brass, silver, or gold, was
laid in the groove, and beaten into place, being afterwards polished
until the surface was uniform all over. One great feature of the art
was to sink the incision a little broader at the base than at the top,
and then to force the softer metal in, so that, by this undercutting,
it was held firmly in place. Cellini tells of his first view of
damascened steel blades. "I chanced," he says, "to become possessed
of certain little Turkish daggers, the handle of which together
with the guard and blade were ornamented with beautiful Oriental
leaves, engraved with a chisel, and inlaid with gold. This kind of
work differed materially from any which I had as yet practised or
attempted, nevertheless I was seized with a great desire to try my
hand at it, and I succeeded so admirably that I produced articles
infinitely finer and more solid than those of the Turks." Benvenuto
had such a humble opinion of his own powers! But when one considers
the pains and labour expended upon the arts of damascening and
niello, one regrets that the workers had not been inspired to attempt
dentistry, and save so much unnecessary individual suffering!

On the Sword of Boabdil are many inscriptions, among them, "God is
clement and merciful," and "God is gifted with the best memory."
No two sentiments could be better calculated to keep a conqueror
from undue excesses.

Mercia was a headquarters for steel and other metals
in the thirteenth century. Seville was even then famous for its
steel, also, and in the words of a contemporary writer, "the steel
which is made in Seville is most excellent; it would take too much
time to enumerate the delicate objects of every kind which are
made in this town." King Don Pedro, in his will, in the fourteenth
century, bequeathes to his son, his "Castilian sword, which I had
made here in Seville, ornamented with stones and gold." Swords
were baptized; they were named, and seemed to have a veritable
personality of their own. The sword of Charlemagne was christened
"Joyeuse," while we all know of Arthur's Excalibur; Roland's sword
was called Durandel. Saragossa steel was esteemed for helmets,
and the sword of James of Arragon in 1230, "a very good sword,
and lucky to those who handled it," was from Monzon. The Cid's
sword was similar, and named Tizona. There is a story of a Jew who
went to the grave of the Cid to steal his sword, which, according
to custom, was interred with the owner: the corpse is said to have
resented the intrusion by unsheathing the weapon, which miracle
so amazed the Jew that he turned Christian!

[Illustration: MOORISH SWORD]

German armour was popular. Cologne swords were great favourites
in England. King Arthur's sword was one of these,--

"For all of Coleyne was the blade
And all the hilt of precious stone."

In the British Museum is a wonderful example of a wooden shield,
painted on a gesso ground, the subject being a Knight kneeling
before a lady, and the motto: "Vous ou la mort." These wooden shields
were used in Germany until the end of Maximilian's reign.

The helmet, or Heaume, entirely concealed the face, so that for
purposes of identification, heraldic badges and shields were displayed.
Later, crests were also used on the helmets, for the same purpose.

Certain armourers were very well known in their day, and were as
famous as artists in other branches. William Austin made a superb
suit for the Earl of Warwick, while Thomas Stevyns was the coppersmith
who worked on the same, and Bartholomew Lambspring was the polisher.
There was a famous master-armourer at Greenwich in the days of
Elizabeth, named Jacob: some important arms of that period bear
the inscription, "Made by me Jacob." There is some question whether
he was the same man as Jacob Topf who came from Innsbruck, and
became court armourer in England in 1575. Another famous smith
was William Pickering, who made exquisitely ornate suits of what
we might call full-dress armour.

Colossal cannon were made: two celebrated guns may be seen, the
monster at Ghent, called Mad Meg, and the huge cannon at Edinburgh
Castle, Mons Meg, dating from 1476. These guns are composed of steel
coils or spirals, afterwards welded into a solid mass instead of
being cast. They are mammoth examples of the art of the blacksmith
and the forge. In Germany cannon were made of bronze, and these
were simply cast.

Cross bows obtained great favour in Spain, even after the arquebuse
had come into use. It was considered a safer weapon to the one
who used it. An old writer in 1644 remarks, "It has never been
known that a man's life has been lost by breaking the string or
cord, two things which are dangerous, but not to a considerable
extent,"... and he goes on "once set, its shot is secure, which
is not the case with the arquebus, which often misses fire." There
is a letter from Ambassador Salimas to the King of Hungary, in
which he says: "I went to Balbastro and there occupied myself in
making a pair of cross bows for your Majesty. I believe they will
satisfy the desires which were required... as your Majesty is annoyed
when they do not go off as you wish." It would seem as though his
Majesty's "annoyance" was justifiable; imagine any one dependent
upon the shot of a cross bow, and then having the weapon fail to
"go off!" Nothing could be more discouraging.

[Illustration: ENAMELLED SUIT OF ARMOUR]

There is a contemporary treatise which is full of interest,
entitled, "How a Man shall be Armed at his ease when he shall Fight
on Foot." It certainly was a good deal of a contract to render
a knight comfortable in spite of the fact that he could see or
breathe only imperfectly, and was weighted down by iron at every
point. This complete covering with metal added much to the actual
noise of battle. Froissart alludes to the fact that in the battle of
Rosebeque, in 1382, the hammering on the helmets made a noise which
was equal to that of all the armourers of Paris and Brussels working
together. And yet the strength needed to sport such accoutrements
seems to have been supplied. Leon Alberti of Florence, when clad
in a full suit of armour, could spring with ease upon a galloping
horse, and it is related that Aldobrandini, even with his right
arm disabled, could cleave straight through his opponent's helmet
and head, down to the collar bone, with a single stroke!

One of the richest suits of armour in the world is to be seen at
Windsor; it is of Italian workmanship, and is made of steel, blued
and gilded, with wonderfully minute decorations of damascene and
applique work. This most ornate armour was made chiefly for show,
and not for the field: for knights to appear in their official
capacity, and for jousting at tournaments, which were practically
social events. In the days of Henry VIII. a chronicler tells of
a jouster who "tourneyed in harneyse all of gilt from the head
piece to the sabattons." Many had "tassels of fine gold" on their
suits.

Italian weapons called "lasquenets" were very deadly. In a letter
from Albrecht Duerer to Pirckheimer, he alludes to them, as having
"roncions with two hundred and eighteen points: and if they pink a
man with any of these, the man is dead, as they are all poisoned."

Bronze is composed of copper with an alloy of about eight or ten
per cent. of tin. The fusing of these two metals produces the brown
glossy substance called bronze, which is so different from either of
them. The art of the bronze caster is a very old and interesting one.
The method of proceeding has varied very little with the centuries. A
statue to be cast either in silver or bronze would be treated in
the following manner.

A general semblance of the finished work was first set up in clay;
then over this a layer of wax was laid, as thick as the final bronze
was intended to be. The wax was then worked with tools and by hand
until it took on the exact form designed for the finished product.
Then a crust of clay was laid over the wax; on this were added other
coatings of clay, until quite a thick shell of clay surrounded
the wax. The whole was then subjected to fervent heat, and the wax
all melted out, leaving a space between the core and the outer
shell. Into this space the liquid bronze was poured, and after it
had cooled and hardened the outer shell was broken off, leaving
the statue in bronze exactly as the wax had been.

Cellini relates an experience in Paris, with an old man
eighty years of age, one of the most famous bronze casters whom
he had engaged to assist him in his work for Francis I. Something
went wrong with the furnace, and the poor old man was so upset and
"got into such a stew" that he fell upon the floor, and Benvenuto
picked him up fancying him to be dead: "Howbeit," explains Cellini,
"I had a great beaker of the choicest wine brought him,... I mixed
a large bumper of wine for the old man, who was groaning away like
anything, and I bade him most winning-wise to drink, and said:
'Drink, my father, for in yonder furnace has entered in a devil,
who is making all this mischief, and, look you, we'll just let him
bide there a couple of days, till he gets jolly well bored, and
then will you and I together in the space of three hours firing,
make this metal run, like so much batter, and without any exertion
at all.' The old fellow drank and then I brought him some little
dainties to eat: meat pasties they were, nicely peppered, and I
made him take down four full goblets of wine. He was a man quite
out of the ordinary, this, and a most lovable old thing, and what
with my caresses and the virtue of the wine, I found him soon moaning
away as much with joy as he had moaned before with grief." Cellini
displayed in this incident his belief in the great principle that
the artist should find pleasure in his work in order to impart
to that work a really satisfactory quality, and did exactly the
right thing at the right minute; instead of trusting to a faltering
effort in a disheartened man, he cheered the old bronze founder
up to such a pitch that after a day or two the work was completed
with triumph and joy to both.

In the famous statue of Perseus, Cellini experienced much difficulty
in keeping the metal liquid. The account of this thrilling experience,
told in his matchless autobiography, is too long to quote at this
point; an interesting item, however, should be noted. Cellini used
pewter as a solvent in the bronze which had hardened in the furnace.
"Apprehending that the cause of it was, that the fusibility of
the metal was impaired, by the violence of the fire," he says, "I
ordered all my dishes and porringers, which were in number about
two hundred, to be placed one by one before my tubes, and part of
them to be thrown into the furnace, upon which all present perceived
that my bronze was completely dissolved, and that my mould was
filling," and, such was the relief that even the loss of the entire
pewter service of the family was sustained with equanimity; the
family, "without delay, procured earthen vessels to supply the place
of the pewter dishes and porringers, and we all dined together very
cheerfully." Edgecumb Staley, in the "Guilds of Florence," speaks
of the "pewter fattened Perseus:" this is worthy of Carlyle.

Early Britons cast statues in brass. Speed tells of King Cadwollo,
who died in 677, being buried "at St. Martin's church near Ludgate,
his image great and terrible, triumphantly riding on horseback,
artificially cast in brass, was placed on the Western gate of the
city, to the further fear and terror of the Saxons!"

In 1562 Bartolomeo Morel, who made the celebrated statue of the
Giralda Tower in Seville, executed a fifteen branched candelabrum
for the Cathedral. It is a rich Renaissance design, in remarkably
chaste and good lines, and holds fifteen statuettes, which are
displaced to make room for the candles only during the last few
days of Lent.

A curious form of mediaeval trinket was the perfume ball; this consisted
of a perforated ball of copper or brass, often ornamented with
damascene, and intended to contain incense to perfume the air, the
balls being suspended.

The earliest metal statuary in England was rendered in latten, a
mixed metal of a yellow colour, the exact recipe for which has not
survived. The recumbent effigies of Henry III. and Queen Eleanor
are made of latten, and the tomb of the Black Prince in Canterbury
is the same, beautifully chased. Many of these and other tombs were
probably originally covered with gilding, painting, and enamel.

The effigies of Richard II. and his queen, Anne of Bohemia, were
made during the reign of the monarch; a contemporary document states
that "Sir John Innocent paid another part of a certain indenture
made between the King and Nicolas Broker and Geoffrey Prest,
coppersmiths of London, for the making of two images, likenesses
of the King and Queen, of copper and latten, gilded upon the said
marble tomb."

There are many examples of bronze gates in ecclesiastical
architecture. The gates of St. Paolo Fuori le Mura in Rome were
made in 1070, in Constantinople, by Stauracius the Founder. Many
authorities think that those at St. Mark's in Venice were similarly
produced. The bronze doors in Rome are composed of fifty-four small
designs, not in relief, but with the outlines of the subjects inlaid
with silver. The doors are in Byzantine taste.

The bronze doors at Hildesheim differ from nearly all other such
portals, in the elemental principle of design. Instead of being
divided into small panels, they are simply blocked off into seven
long horizontal compartments on each side, and then filled with a
pictorial arrangement of separate figures; only three or four in
each panel, widely spaced, and on a background of very low relief.
The figures are applied, at scattered distances apart, and are
in unusually high modelling, in some cases being almost detached
from the door. The effect is curious and interesting rather than
strictly beautiful, on the whole; but in detail many of the figures
display rare power of plastic skill, proportion, and action. They
are, at any rate, very individual: there are no other doors at
all like them. They are the work of Bishop Bernward.

Unquestionably, one of the greatest achievements in bronze of any
age is the pair of gates by Lorenzo Ghiberti on the Baptistery
in Florence. Twenty-one years were devoted to their making, by
Ghiberti and his assistants, with the stipulation that all figures
in the design were to be personal work of the master, the
assistants only attending to secondary details. The doors were in
place in April, 1424.

[Illustration: BRUNELLESCHI'S COMPETITIVE PANEL]

The competition for the Baptistery doors reads like a romance,
and is familiar to most people who know anything of historic art.
When the young Ghiberti heard that the competition was open to
all, he determined to go to Florence and work for the prize; in
his own words: "When my friends wrote to me that the governors
of the Baptistery were sending for masters whose skill in bronze
working they wished to prove, and that from all Italian lands many
maestri were coming, to place themselves in this strife of talent,
I could no longer forbear, and asked leave of Sig. Malatesta, who
let me depart." The result of the competition is also given in
Ghiberti's words: "The palm of victory was conceded to me by all
judges, and by those who competed with me. Universally all the
glory was given to me without any exception."

[Illustration: GHIBERTI'S COMPETITIVE PANEL]

Symonds considers the first gate a supreme accomplishment in bronze
casting, but criticizes the other, and usually more admired gate, as
"overstepping the limits that separate sculpture from painting," by
"massing together figures in multitudes at three and sometimes four
distances. He tried to make a place in bas-relief for perspective."
Sir Joshua Reynolds finds fault with Ghiberti, also, for working at
variance with the severity of sculptural treatment, by distributing
small figures in a spacious landscape framework. It was not really
in accordance with the limitations of his material to treat a bronze
casting as Ghiberti treated it, and his example has led many men of
inferior genius astray, although there is no use in denying that
Ghiberti himself was clever enough to defy the usual standards
and rules.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22