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

Fonts were sometimes made in bronze. There is such a one at Liege
cast by Lambert Patras, which stands upon twelve oxen. It is decorated
with reliefs from the Gospels. This artist, Patras, was a native
of Dinant, and lived in the twelfth century. The bronze font in
Hildesheim is among the most interesting late Romanesque examples in
Germany. It is a large deep basin entirely covered with enrichment
of Scriptural scenes, and is supported by four kneeling figures,
typical of the four Rivers of Paradise. The conical cover is also
covered with Scriptural scenes, and surmounted by a foliate knob.
Among the figures with which the font is covered are the Cardinal
Virtues, flanked by their patron saints. Didron considers this a most
important piece of bronze from an iconographic point of view
theologically and poetically. The archaic qualities of the figures
are fascinating and sometimes diverting. In the scene of the Baptism
of Christ the water is positively trained to flow upwards in pyramidal
form, in order to reach nearly to the waist, while at either side it
recedes to the ground level again,--it has an ingenuous and almost
startling suddenness in the rising of its flood! An interesting
comment upon the prevalence of early national forms may be deduced,
when one observes that on the table, at the Last Supper, there
lies a perfectly shaped pretzel!

The great bronze column constructed by St. Bernward at Hildesheim
has the Life of Christ represented in consecutive scenes in a spiral
form, like those ornamenting the column of Trajan. Down by Bernward's
grave there is a spring which is said to cure cripples and rheumatics.
Peasants visit Hildesheim on saints' days in order to drink of
it, and frequently, after one of these visitations, crutches are
found abandoned near by.

Saxony was famous for its bronze founders, and work was sent forth,
from this country, in the twelfth century, all over Europe.

[Illustration: FONT AT HILDESHEIM, 12TH CENTURY]

Orcagna's tabernacle at Or San Michele is, as Symonds
has expressed it, "a monumental jewel," and "an epitome of the
minor arts of mediaeval Italy." On it one sees bas-relief carving,
intaglios, statuettes, mosaic, the lapidary's art in agate; enamels,
and gilded glass, and yet all in good taste and harmony. The sculpture
is properly subordinated to the architectonic principle, and one
can understand how it is not only the work of a goldsmith, but
of a painter.

Of all bronze workers, perhaps Peter Vischer is the best known
and is certainly one of the best deserving of his wide fame. Peter
Vischer was born about the same time as Quentin Matsys, between
1460 and 1470. He was the most important metal worker in Germany.
He and Adam Kraft, of whom mention will be made when we come to
deal with sculptural carving, were brought up together as boys,
and "when older boys, went with one another on all holidays, acting
still as though they were apprentices together." Vischer's normal
expression was in Gothic form. His first design for the wonderful
shrine of St. Sebald in Nuremberg was made by him in 1488, and
is still preserved in Vienna. It is a pure late-Gothic canopy,
and I cannot help regretting that the execution was delayed until
popular taste demanded more concession towards the Renaissance,
and it was resolved in 1507, "to have the Shrine of St. Sebald
made of brass."

Therefore, although the general lines continue to hold a Gothic
semblance, the shrine has many Renaissance features. Regret, however,
is almost morbid, in relation to such a perfect work of art. Italian
feeling is evident throughout, and the wealth of detail in figures
and foliate forms is magnificent. The centre of interest is the
little portrait statuette of Peter Vischer himself, according to his
biographer, "as he looked, and as he daily went about and worked in
the foundry." Though Peter had not been to Italy himself, his son
Hermann had visited the historic land, and had brought home "artistic
things that he sketched and drew, which delighted his old father, and
were of great use to his brothers." Peter Vischer had three sons, who
all followed him in the craft. His workshop must have been an ideal
institution in its line.

Some remnants of Gothic grotesque fancy are to be seen on the shrine,
although treated outwardly with Renaissance feeling. A realistic
life-sized mouse may be seen in one place, just as if it had run
out to inspect the work; and the numbers of little tipsy "putti"
who disport themselves in all attitudes, in perilous positions
on narrow ledges, are full of merry humour.

The metal of St. Sebald's shrine is left as it came from the casting,
and owes much of its charm to the lack of filing, polishing, and
pointing usual in such monuments. The molten living expression is
retained. Only the details and spirit of the figures are Renaissance;
the Gothic plan is hardly disturbed, and the whole monument is
pleasing in proportion. The figures are exquisite, especially that
of St. Peter.

[Illustration: PORTRAIT STATUETTE OF PETER VISCHER]

A great Renaissance work in Germany was the grille
of the Rathaus made for Nuremberg by Peter Vischer the Younger. It
was of bronze, the symmetrical diapered form of the open work part
being supported by chaste and dignified columns of the Corinthian
order. It was first designed by Peter Vischer the Elder, and revised
and changed by the whole family after Hermann's return from Rome
with his Renaissance notions. It was sold in 1806 to a merchant
for old metal; later it was traced to the south of France, where
it disappeared.

Another famous bronze of Nuremberg is the well-known "Goose Man"
fountain, by Labenwolf. Every traveller has seen the quaint half-foolish
little man, as he stands there holding his two geese who politely
turn away their heads in order to produce the streams of water!

With the best bronzes, and with steel used for decorative purposes,
the original casting has frequently been only for general form,
the whole of the surface finishing being done with a shaping tool,
by hand, giving the appearance of a carving in bronze or steel. In
Japanese bronzes this is particularly felt. The classical bronzes
were evidently perfect mosaics of different colours, in metal. Pliny
tells of a bronze figure of a dying woman, who was represented
as having changed colour at the extremities, the fusion of the
different shades of bronze being disguised by anklets, bracelets,
and a necklace! A curious and very disagreeable work of art, we
should say. One sometimes sees in antique fragments ivory or silver
eyeballs, and hair and eyelashes made separately in thin strips and
coils of metal; while occasionally the depression of the edge of
the lips is sufficient to give rise to the opinion that a thin
veneer of copper was applied to give colour.

The bronze effigies of Henry III. and Eleanor, at Westminster, were
the work of a goldsmith, Master William Torel, and are therefore
finer in quality and are in some respects superior to the average
casting in bronze. Torel worked at the palace, and the statues were
cast in "cire perdue" process, being executed in the churchyard
itself. They are considered among the finest bronzes of the period
extant. Gilding and enamel were often used in bronze effigies.

Splendid bronzes, cast each in a single flow, are the recumbent
figures of two bishops at Amiens; they are of the thirteenth century.
Ruskin says: "They are the only two bronze tombs of her men of the
great ages left in France." An old document speaks of the "moulds
and imagines" which were in use for casting effigy portraits, in
1394.

Another good English bronze is that of Richard Beauchamp at Warwick,
the work of Thomas Stevens, which has been alluded to. In Westminster
Abbey, the effigy of Aymer de Valence, dating from 1296, is of
copper, but it is not cast; it is of beaten metal, and is enamelled,
probably at Limoges.

Bells and cannon are among the objects of actual utility which
were cast in bronze. Statues as a rule came later. In the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries in England, bronze was used to such an
extent, that one authority suggested that it should be called the
"Age of Bronze." Primitive bells were made of cast iron riveted
together: one of these is at the Cologne museum, and the Irish bells
were largely of this description. A great bell was presented to the
Cathedral of Chartres in 1028, by a donor named Jean, which affords
little clue to his personality. This bell weighed over two tons.

There is considerable interest attaching to the subject of the
making of bells in the Middle Ages. Even in domestic life bells
played quite a part; it was the custom to ring a bell when the
bath was ready and to announce meals, as well as to summon the
servitors. Church bells, both large and small, were in use in England
by 670, according to Bede. They were also carried by missionaries;
those good saints, Patrick and Cuthbert, announced their coming
like town criers! The shrine of St. Patrick's bell has been already
described. Bells used to be regarded with a superstitious awe, and
were supposed to have the ability to dispel evil spirits, which were
exorcised with "bell, book, and candle." The bell of St. Patrick,
inside the great shrine, is composed of two pieces of sheet iron,
one of which forms the face, and being turned over the top, descends
about half-way down the other side, where it meets the second sheet.
Both are bent along the edges so as to form the sides of the bell,
and they are both secured by rivets. A rude handle is similarly
attached to the top.

A quaint account is given by the Monk of St. Gall
about a bell ordered by Charlemagne. Charlemagne having admired
the tone of a certain bell, the founder, named Tancho, said to
him: "Lord Emperor, give orders that a great weight of copper be
brought to me that I may refine it, and instead of tin give me as
much silver as I need,--a hundred pounds at least,--and I will
cast such a bell for you that this will seem dumb in comparison
to it." Charlemagne ordered the required amount of silver to be
sent to the founder, who was, however, a great knave. He did not
use the silver at all, but, laying it aside for his own use, he
employed tin as usual in the bell, knowing that it would make a
very fair tone, and counting on the Emperor's not observing the
difference. The Emperor was glad when it was ready to be heard,
and ordered it to be hung, and the clapper attached. "That was soon
done," says the chronicler, "and then the warden of the church,
the attendants, and even the boys of the place, tried, one after
the other, to make the bell sound. But all was in vain; and so
at last the knavish maker of the bell came up, seized the rope,
and pulled at the bell. When, lo! and behold! down from on high
came the brazen mass; fell on the very head of the cheating brass
founder; killed him on the spot; and passed straight through his
carcase and crashed to the ground.... When the aforementioned weight
of silver was found, Charles ordered it to be distributed among
the poorest servants of the palace."

There is record of bronze bells in Valencia as early as 622, and
an ancient mortar was found near Monzon, in the ruins of a castle
which had formerly belonged to the Arabs. Round the edge of this
mortar was the inscription: "Complete blessing, and ever increasing
happiness and prosperity of every kind and an elevated and happy
social position for its owner." The mortar was richly ornamented.

At Croyland, Abbot Egebric "caused to be made two great bells which
he named Bartholomew and Bethelmus, two of middle size, called
Turketul and Tatwyn, and two lesser, Pega and Bega." Also at Croyland
were placed "two little bells which Fergus the brass worker of St.
Botolph's had lately given," in the church tower, "until better
times," when the monks expressed a hope that they should improve
all their buildings and appointments.

Oil that dropped from the framework on which church bells were
hung was regarded in Florence as a panacea for various ailments.
People who suffered from certain complaints were rubbed with this
oil, and fully believed that it helped them.

The curfew bell was a famous institution; but the name was not
originally applied to the bell itself. This leads to another curious
bit of domestic metal. The popular idea of a curfew is that of
a bell; a bell was undoubtedly rung at the curfew hour, and was
called by its name; but the actual curfew (or _couvre feu_) was an
article made of copper, shaped not unlike a deep "blower," which
was used in order to extinguish the fire when the bell rang. There
are a few specimens in England of these curious covers: they stood
about ten to fifteen inches high, with a handle at the top, and
closed in on three sides, open at the back. The embers were
shovelled close to the back of the hearth, and the curfew, with the
open side against the back of the chimney, was placed over them,
thus excluding all air. Horace Walpole owned, at Strawberry Hill,
a famous old curfew, in copper, elaborately decorated with vines
and the York rose.

[Illustration: A COPPER "CURFEW"]

[Illustration: SANCTUARY KNOCKER, DURHAM CATHEDRAL]

The Sanctuary knocker at Durham Cathedral is an important example
of bronze work, probably of the same age as the Cathedral door on
which it is fastened. They both date from about the eleventh
century. Ever since 740, in the Episcopate of Cynewulf, criminals
were allowed to claim Sanctuary in Durham. When this knocker was
sounded, the door was opened, by two porters who had their
accommodations always in two little chambers over the door, and
for a certain length of time the criminal was under the protection
of the Church.

In speaking of the properties of lead, the old English Bartholomew
says: "Of uncleanness of impure brimstone, lead hath a manner of
neshness, and smircheth his hand who toucheth it... a man may wipe
off the uncleanness, but always it is lead, although it seemeth
silver." Weather vanes, made often of lead, were sometimes quite
elaborate. One of the most important pieces of lead work in art
is the figure of an angel on the chewet of Ste. Chapelle in Paris.
Originally this figure was intended to be so controlled by clockwork
that it would turn around once in the course of the twenty-four
hours, so that his attitude of benediction should be directed to
all four quarters of the city; but this was not practicable, and
the angel is stationary. The cock on the weather vane at Winchester
was described as early as the tenth century, in the Life of St.
Swithin, by the scribe Walstan. He calls it "a cock of elegant
form, and all resplendent and shining with gold who occupies the
summit of the tower. He regards the world from on high, he commands
all the country. Before him extend the stars of the North, and all
the constellations of the zodiac. Under his superb feet he holds
the sceptre of the law, and he sees under him all the people of
Winchester. The other cocks are humble subjects of this one, whom
they see thus raised in mid-air above them: he scorns the winds,
that bring the rains, and, turning, he presents to them his back.
The terrible efforts of the tempest do not annoy him, he receives
with courage either snow or lightning, alone he watches the sun as
it sets and dips into the ocean: and it is he who gives it its first
salute on its rising again. The traveller who sees him afar off,
fixes on him his gaze; forgetting the road he has still to follow,
he forgets his fatigues: he advances with renewed ardour. While he
is in reality a long way from the end, his eyes deceive him, and he
thinks that he has arrived." Quite a practical tribute to a weather
cock!

The fact that leaden roofs were placed on all churches and monastic
buildings in the Middle Ages, accounts in part for their utter
destruction in case of fire; for it is easy to see how impossible
it would be to enter a building in order to save anything, if, to
the terror of flames, were added the horror of a leaden shower
of molten metal proceeding from every part of the roof at once!
If a church once caught fire, that was its end, as a rule.

The invention of clocks, on the principle of cog-wheels and weights,
is attributed to a monk, named Gerbert, who died in 1013. He had
been instructor to King Robert, and was made Bishop of Rheims,
later becoming Pope Sylvester II. Clocks at first were large affairs
in public places. Portable clocks were said to have been first made
by Carovage, in 1480.

[Illustration: ANGLO SAXON CRUCIFIX OF LEAD]

An interesting specimen of mediaeval clock work is the old Dijon time
keeper, which still performs its office, and which is a privilege
to watch at high noon. Twelve times the bell is struck: first by a
man, who turns decorously with his hammer, and then by a woman,
who does the same. This staunch couple have worked for their living
for many centuries. Froissart alludes to this clock, saying: "The
Duke of Burgundy caused to be carried away from the market place at
Courtray a clock that struck the hours, one of the finest which could
be found on either side of the sea: and he conveyed it by pieces in
carts, and the bell also, which clock was brought and carted into the
town of Dijon, in Burgundy, where it was deposited and put up, and
there strikes the twenty-four hours between day and night." This was
in 1382, and there is no knowing how long the clock may have performed
its functions in Courtray prior to its removal to Dijon.

The great clock at Nuremberg shows a procession of the Seven Electors,
who come out of one door, pass in front of the throne, each turning
and doing obeisance, and pass on through another door. It is quite
imposing, at noon, to watch this procession repeated twelve times.
The clock is called the Mannleinlauffen.

In the Statutes of Francis I., there is a clause stating that
clockmakers as well as goldsmiths were authorized to employ in their
work gold, silver, and all other materials.

In Wells Cathedral is a curious clock, on which is a figure of a
monarch, like Charles I., seated above the bell, which he kicks
with his heels when the hour comes round. He is popularly known as
"Jack Blandiver." This clock came originally from Glastonbury. On
the hour a little tournament takes place, a race of little mounted
knights rushing out in circles and charging each other vigorously.

Pugin regrets the meaningless designs used by early Victorian clock
makers. He calls attention to the fact that "it is not unusual to
cast a Roman warrior in a flying chariot, round one of the wheels
of which on close inspection the hours may be descried; or the whole
front of a cathedral church reduced to a few inches in height,
with the clock face occupying the position of a magnificent rose
window!" This is not overdrawn; taste has suffered many vicissitudes
in the course of time, but we hope that the future will hold more
beauty for us in the familiar articles of the household than have
prevailed at some periods in the past.

CHAPTER V

TAPESTRY

A study of textiles is often subdivided into tapestry, carpet-weaving,
mechanical weaving of fabrics of a lighter weight, and embroidery.
These headings are useful to observe in our researches in the mediaeval
processes connected with the loom and the needle.

Tapestry, as we popularly think of it, in great rectangular
wall-hangings with rather florid figures from Scriptural scenes,
commonly dates from the sixteenth century or later, so that it is
out of our scope to study its manufacture on an extensive scale.
But there are earlier tapestries, much more restrained in design,
and more interesting and frequently more beautiful. Of these earlier
works there is less profusion, for the examples are rare and precious,
and seldom come into the market nowadays. The later looms were of
course more prolific as the technical facilities increased. But
a study of the craft as it began gives one all that is necessary
for a proper appreciation of the art of tapestry weaving.

The earliest European work with which we have to concern ourselves
is the Bayeux tapestry. Although this is really needlework, it
is usually treated as tapestry, and there seems to be no special
reason for departing from the custom. Some authorities state that
the Bayeux tapestry was made by the Empress Matilda, daughter of
Henry I., while others consider it the achievement of Queen Matilda,
the wife of William the Conqueror. She is recorded to have sat
quietly awaiting her lord's coming while she embroidered this quaint
souvenir of his prowess in conquest. A veritable mediaeval Penelope,
it is claimed that she directed her ladies in this work, which is
thoroughly Saxon in feeling and costuming. It is undoubtedly the most
interesting remaining piece of needlework of the eleventh century,
and it would be delightful if one could believe the legend of its
construction. Its attribution to Queen Matilda is very generally
doubted by those who have devoted much thought to the subject. Mr.
Frank Rede Fowke gives it as his opinion, based on a number of
arguments too long to quote in this place, that the tapestry was
not made by Queen Matilda, but was ordered by Bishop Odo as an
ornament for the nave of Bayeux Cathedral, and was executed by
Norman craftsmen in that city. Dr. Rock also favours the theory
that it was worked by order of Bishop Odo. Odo was a brother of
William the Conqueror and might easily have been interested in
preserving so important a record of the Battle of Hastings. Dr.
Rock states that the tradition that Queen Matilda executed the
tapestry did not arise at all until 1730.

The work is on linen, executed in worsteds. Fowke gives the length
as two hundred and thirty feet, while it is only nineteen inches
wide,--a long narrow strip of embroidery, in many colours on a cream
white ground. In all, there are six hundred and twenty-three figures,
besides two hundred horses and dogs, five hundred and five animals,
thirty-seven buildings, forty-one ships, forty-nine trees, making in
all the astonishing number of one thousand five hundred and twelve
objects!

The colours are in varying shades of blue, green, red and yellow
worsted. The colours are used as a child employs crayons; just as
they come to hand. When a needleful of one thread was used up,
the next was taken, apparently quite irrespective of the colour or
shade. Thus, a green horse will be seen standing on red legs, and
a red horse will sport a blue stocking! Mr. J. L. Hayes believes
that these varicoloured animals are planned purposely: that two
legs of a green horse are rendered in red on the further side, to
indicate perspective, the same principle accounting for two blue
legs on a yellow horse!

[Illustration: DETAIL, BAYEUX TAPESTRY]

The buildings are drawn in a very primitive way, without consideration
for size or proportion. The solid part of the embroidery is couched
on, while much of the work is only rendered in outline. But the
spirited little figures are full of action, and suggest those in
the celebrated Utrecht Psalter. Sometimes one figure will be as
high as the whole width of the material, while again, the people
will be tiny. In the scene representing the burial of Edward the
Confessor, in Westminster Abbey, the roof of the church is several
inches lower than the bier which is borne on the shoulders of men
nearly as tall as the tower!

The naive treatment of details is delicious. Harold, when about
to embark, steps with bare legs into the tide: the water is laid
out in the form of a hill of waves, in order to indicate that it
gets deeper later on. It might serve as an illustration of the Red
Sea humping up for the benefit of the Israelites! The curious little
stunted figure with a bald head, in the group of the conference of
messengers, would appear to be an abortive attempt to portray a
person at some distance--he is drawn much smaller than the others
to suggest that he is quite out of hearing! This seems to have
been the only attempt at rendering the sense of perspective. Then
comes a mysterious little lady in a kind of shrine, to whom a clerk
is making curious advances; to the casual observer it would appear
that the gentleman is patting her on the cheek, but we are informed
by Thierry that this represents an embroideress, and that the clerk
is in the act of ordering the Bayeux Tapestry itself! Conjecture
is swamped concerning the real intention of this group, and no
certain diagnosis has ever been pronounced! The Countess of Wilton
sees in this group "a female in a sort of porch, with a clergyman
in the act of pronouncing a benediction upon her!" Every one to
his taste.

A little farther on there is another unexplained figure: that of
a man with his feet crossed, swinging joyously on a rope from the
top of a tower.

Soon after the Crowning of Harold, may be seen a crowd of people
gazing at an astronomic phenomenon which has been described by an
old chronicler as a "hairy star." It is recorded as "a blazing
starre" such as "never appears but as a prognostic of afterclaps,"
and again, as "dreadful to be seen, with bloudie haires, and all
over rough and shagged at the top." Another author complacently
explains that comets "were made to the end that the ethereal regions
might not be more void of monsters than the ocean is of whales and
other great thieving fish!" A very literal interpretation of this
"hairy star" has been here embroidered, carefully fitted out with
cog-wheels and all the paraphernalia of a conventional mediaeval
comet.

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