Jewelled robes were often seen in the Middle Ages; a chasuble is described as having been made for the Abbot of St. Albans, in the twelfth century, which was practically covered with plaques of gold and precious stones. Imagine the unpleasant physical sensation of a bishop in 1404, who was obliged to wear a golden mitre of which the ground was set with large pearls, bordered with balas rubies, and sapphires, and trimmed with indefinite extra pearls!
The body of St. Cecilia, who was martyred in 230, was interred in a garment of pure woven gold.
The cloth of solid gold which was used for state occasions was called "tissue;" the thin paper in which it was wrapped when it was laid away was known as tissue paper, and Mr. William Maskell states that the namehas clung to it, and that is why thin paper is called "tissue paper" to-day.
St. Peter's in Rome possessed a great pair of silver curtains, which hung at the entrance to the church, given by Pope Stephen IV. in the eighth century.
Vitruvius tells how to preserve the gold in old embroidery, or in worn-out textiles where the metal has been extensively used. He says: "When gold is embroidered on a garment which is worn out, and no longer fit for use, the cloth is burnt over the fire in earthen pots. The ashes are thrown into water, and quicksilver added to them. This collects all particles of gold, and unites with them. The water is then poured off, and the residuum placed in a cloth, which, when squeezed with the hands suffers the liquid quicksilver to pass through the pores of the cloth, but retains the gold in a mass within it."
An early allusion to asbestos woven as a cloth is made by Marco Polo, showing that fire-proof fabrics were known in his time. In the province of Chinchintalas, "there is a mountain wherein are mines of steel... and also, as was reported, salamanders, of the wool of which cloth was made, which if cast into the fire, cannot burn. But that cloth is in reality made of stone in this manner, as one of my companions a Turk, named Curifar, a man endued with singular industry, informed me, who had charge of the minerals in that province. A certain mineral is found in that mountain which yields threads not unlike wool; and these being driedin the sun, are bruised in a brazen mortar, and afterwards washed, and whatsoever earthy substance sticks to them is taken away. Lastly, these threads are spun like ordinary wool, and woven into cloth. And when they would whiten those cloths, they cast them into the fire for an hour, and then take them out unhurt whiter than snow. After the same manner they cleanse them when they have taken any spots, for no other washing is used to them, besides the fire."
In the Middle Ages it would have been possible, as Lady Alford suggests, to play the game "Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral" with textiles only! Between silk, hemp, cotton, gold, silver, wool, flax, camel's hair, and asbestos, surely the three elements all played their parts.
Since the first record of Eve having "sewn fig leaves together to make aprons," women have used the needle in some form. In England, it is said that the first needles were made by an Indian, in 1545, before which time they were imported. The old play, "Gammer Gurton's Needle," is based upon the extreme rarity of these domestic implements, and the calamity occasioned in a family by their loss. There is a curious old story about a needle, which was supposed to possess magic powers. This needle is reported to have worked at night while its owner was resting, saving her all personal responsibility about her mending. When the old lady finally died, another owner claimed this charmed needle, and began at once to test its powers. But, dowhat she would, she was unable to force a thread through its obstinate eye. At last, after trying all possible means to thread the needle, she took a magnifying glass to examine and see what the impediment was, and, lo! the eye of the needle was filled with a great tear,—it was weeping for the loss of its old mistress, and no one was ever able to thread it again!
Embroidery is usually regarded as strictly a woman's craft, but in the Middle Ages the leading needleworkers were often men. The old list of names given by Louis Farcy has almost an equal proportion of workers of both sexes. But the finest work was certainly accomplished by the conscientious dwellers in cloisters, and the nuns devoted their vast leisure in those days to this art. Fuller observes: "Nunneries were also good shee-schools, wherein the girls of the neighbourhood were taught to read and work... that the sharpnesse of their wits and suddennesse of their conceits (which even their enemies must allow unto them!) might by education be improved into a judicious solidity." In some of these schools the curriculum included "Reading and sewing, threepence a week: a penny extra for manners." An old thirteenth century work, called the "Kleine Heldenbuch," contains a verse which may be thus translated:
"Who taught me to embroider in a frame with silk?And to draw and design the wild and tameBeasts of the forest and field?Also to picture on plain surface:Round about to place golden borders,A narrow and a broader one,With stags and hinds lifelike."
A study of historic embroidery should be preceded by a general knowledge of the principle stitches employed.
One of the simplest forms was chain stitch, in which one stitch was taken through the loop of the stitch just laid. In the Middle Ages it was often used. Sometimes, when the material was of a loose weave, it was executed by means of a little hook—the probable origin of crochet.
Tapestry stitch, of which one branch is cross-stitch, was formed by laying close single stitches of uniform size upon a canvas specially prepared for this work.
Fine embroidery in silk was usually executed in long smooth stitches of irregular length, which merged into each other. This is generally known as satin stitch, for the surface of the work is that of a satin texture when the work is completed. This was frequently executed upon linen, and then, when the entire surface had been hidden by the close silk stitches, it was cut out and transferred on a brocade background, this style of rendering being known as appliqué. Botticelli recommended this work as most durable and satisfactory: it is oftenest associated with church embroidery. A simple appliqué was also done by cutting out pieces of one material and applying them to another, hiding the edge-joinings by couching on a cord. As an improvement upon painted banners to be used in processions, Botticelli introducedthis method of cutting out and resetting colours upon a different ground. As Vasari says: "This he did that the colors might not sink through, showing the tint of the cloth on each side." But Dr. Rock points out that it is hardly fair to earlier artificers to give the entire credit for this method of work to Botticelli, since such cut work or appliqué was practised in Italy a hundred years before Botticelli was born!
Sometimes solid masses of silk or gold thread were laid in ordered flatness upon a material, and then sewn to it by long or short stitches at right angles. This is known as couching, and is a very effective way of economizing material by displaying it all on the surface. As a rule, however, the surface wears off somewhat, but it is possible to execute it so that it is as durable as embroidery which has been rendered in separate stitches.
In Sicily it was a common practice to use coral in embroideries as well as pearls. Coral work is usually called Sicilian work, though it was also sometimes executed in Spain.
The garments worn by the Byzantines were very ornate; they were made of woven silk and covered with elaborate devices. In the fourth century the Bishop of Amasia ridiculed the extravagant dress of his contemporaries. "When men appear in the streets thus dressed," he says, "the passers by look at them as at painted walls. Their clothes are pictures, which little children point out to one another. The saintlier sort wear likenesses of Christ, the Marriage of Galilee, andLazarus raised from the dead." Allusion was made in a sermon: "Persons who arrayed themselves like painted walls" "with beasts and flowers all over them" were denounced!
In the early Dark Ages there was some prejudice against these rich embroideries. In the sixth century the Bishop St. Cesaire of Arles forbade his nuns to embroider robes with precious stones or painting and flowers. King Withaf of Mercia willed to the Abbey of Croyland "my purple mantle which I wore at my Coronation, to be made into a cope, to be used by those who minister at the holy altar: and also my golden veil, embroidered with the Siege of Troy, to be hung up in the Church on my anniversary." St. Asterius preached to his people, "Strive to follow in your lives the teachings of the Gospel, rather than have the miracles of Our Redeemer embroidered on your outward dress!" This prejudice, however, was not long lived, and the embroidered vestments and garments continued to hold their popularity all through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.
It has been said on grave authority that "Woman is an animal that delights in the toilette," while Petrarch, in 1366, recognized the power of fashion over its votaries. "Who can see with patience," he writes, "the monstrous fantastical inventions which people of our times have invented to deform rather than adorn their persons? Who can behold without indignation their long pointed shoes, their caps with feathers, their hairtwisted and hanging down like tails,... their bellies so cruelly squeezed with cords that they suffer as much pain from vanity as the martyrs suffered for religion!" And yet who shall say whether a "dress-reform" Laura would have charmed any more surely the eye of the poet?
Chaucer, in England, also deplores the fashions of his day, alluding to the "sinful costly array of clothing, namely, in too much superfluity or else indisordinate scantiness!" Changing fashions have always been the despair of writers who have tried to lay down rules for æsthetic effect in dress. "An Englishman," says Harrison, "endeavouring some time to write of our attire... when he saw what a difficult piece of work he had taken in hand, he gave over his travail, and onely drue a picture of a naked man unto whom he gave a pair of shears in the one hand and a piece of cloth in the other, to the end that he should shape his apparel after such fashion as himself liked, sith he could find no garment that could please him any while together: and this he called an Englishman."
Edward the Confessor wore State robes which had been beautifully embroidered with gold by his accomplished wife, Edgitha. In the Royal Rolls of Edward III., in 1335, we find allusion to two vests of green velvet embroidered respectively with sea sirens and coats of arms. The tunics worn over armour offered great opportunities to the needleworker. They were richly embroidered, usually in heraldic style. When Symon,Bishop of Ely, performed the ceremony of Churching for Queen Philippa, the royal dame bestowed upon him the gown which she wore on that occasion; it is described as a murrey-coloured velvet, powdered with golden squirrels, and was of such voluminous pattern that it was cut over into three copes! Bridal gowns were sometimes given to churches, as well.
St. Louis of France was what might be called temperate in dress. The Sire de Joinville says he "never saw a single embroidered coat or ornamented saddle in the possession of the king, and reproved his son for having such things. I replied that he would have acted better if he had given them in charity, and had his dress made of good sendal, lined and strengthened with his arms, like as the king his father had done!"
At the marriage of the Lord of Touraine in 1389, the Duke of Burgundy presented magnificent habits and clothing to his nephew the Count of Nevers: among these were tunics, ornamented with embroidered trees conventionally displayed on their backs, fronts, and sleeves; others showed heraldic blazonry, while a blue velvet tunic was covered with balas rubies set in pearls, alternating with suns of solid gold with great solitaire pearls as centres. Again, in 1390, when the king visited Dijon, he presented to the same nephew a set of harnesses for jousting. Some of them were composed largely of sheets of beaten gold and silver. In some gold and silver marguerites were introduced also.
Savonarola reproved the Florentine nuns for employingtheir valuable time in manufacturing "gold laces with which to adorn persons and houses." The Florentine gold lace was very popular in England, in the days of Henry VIII., and later the art was taken up by the "wire-drawers" of England, and a native industry took the place of the imported article. Among prohibited gowns in Florence was one owned by Donna Francesca degli Albizi, "a black mantle of raised cloth: the ground is yellow, and over it are woven birds, parrots, butterflies, red and white roses, and many figures in vermilion and green, with pavilions and dragons, and yellow and black letters and trees, and many other figures of various colours, the whole lined with cloth in hues of black and vermilion." As one reads this description, it seems as though the artistic sense as much as conscientious scruples might have revolted and led to its banishment!
Costumes for tournaments were also lavish in their splendour. In 1467 Benedetto Salutati ordered made for such a pageant all the trappings for two horses, worked in two hundred pounds of silver by Pollajuolo; thirty pounds of pearls were also used to trim the garments of the sergeants. No wonder Savonarola was enthusiastic in his denunciation of such extravagance.
Henry VIII. had "a pair of hose of purple silk and Venice gold, woven like a caul." For one of his favoured lady friends, also, there is an item, of a certain sum paid, for one pound of gold for embroidering a nightgown.
The unrivalled excellence of English woollen cloths was made manifest at an early period. There was a fabric produced at Norwich of such superiority that a law was passed prohibiting monks from wearing it, the reason being that it was considered "smart enough for military men!" This was in 1422. The name of Worsted was given to a certain wool because it was made at Worsted, a town in Norfolk; later the "worsted thread" was sold for needleworkers.
Ladies made their own gold thread in the Middle Ages by winding a fine flat gold wire, scarcely of more body than a foil, around a silk thread.
Patches were embroidered into place upon such clothes or vestments as were torn: those who did this work were as well recognized as the original designers, and were called "healers" of clothes!
Embroidered bed hangings were very much in order in mediæval times in England. In the eleventh century there lived a woman who had emigrated from the Hebrides, and who had the reputation for witchcraft, chiefly based upon the unusually exquisite needlework on her bed curtains! The name of this reputed sorceress was Thergunna. Bequests in important wills indicate the sumptuous styles which were usual among people of position. The Fair Maid of Kent left to her son her "new bed curtains of red velvet, embroidered with ostrich feathers of silver, and heads of leopards of gold," while in 1380 the Earl of March bequeathed his "large bed of black satin embroidered with whitelions and gold roses, and the escutcheons of the arms of Mortimer and Ulster." This outfit must have resembled a Parisian "first class" funeral! The widow of Henry II. slept in a sort of mourning couch of black velvet, which must have made her feel as if she too were laid out for her own burial!
A child's bedquilt was found mentioned in an inventory of furniture at the Priory of Durham, in 1446, which was embroidered in the four corners with the Evangelistic symbols. In the "Squier of Lowe Degree," a fifteenth century romance, there is allusion to a bed, of which the head sheet is described "with diamonds set and rubies bright." The king of England, in 1388, refers, in a letter, to "a bed of gold cloth." Wall hangings in bedrooms were also most elaborate, and the effect of a chamber adorned with gold and needlework must have been fairly regal. An embroiderer named Delobel made a set of furnishings for the bedroom of Louis XIV. the work upon which occupied three years. The subject was the Triumph of Venus.
In South Kensington Museum there is a fourteenth century linen cloth of German workmanship, upon which occurs the legend of the unicorn, running for protection to a maiden. An old Bestiary describes how the unicorn, or as it is there called, the "monocerus," "is an animal which has one horn on its head: it is caught by means of a virgin." The unicorn and virgin, with a hunter in pursuit, is quite a favourite bit of symbolism in the middle ages.
Another interesting piece of German embroidery in South Kensington is a table cloth, worked on heavy canvas, in heraldic style: long decorative inscriptions embellish the corners. A liberal translation of these verses is given by Dr. Rock, some of the sentences being quaint and interesting to quote. Evidently the embroideress indulged in autobiography in the following: "And she, to honour the esquire her husband, wished to adorn and increase his house furniture, and there has worked, with her own hand, this and still many other pretty cloths, to her memory." And in another corner, "Now follows here my own birthday. When one wrote 1565 my mother's heart was gladdened by my first cry. In the year 1585 I gave birth my self to a daughter. Her name is Emilia Catharina, and she has been a proper and praiseworthy child." Then, to her children the following address is directed: "Do not forget your prayers in the morning. And be temperate in your pleasures. And make yourselves acquainted with the Word of God.... I beseech you to be sincere in all matters. That will make you great and glorious. Honour everybody according to his station: it will make you honourably known. You, my truly beloved sons, beware of fiery wines... you, my truly beloved daughters, preserve and guard your honour, and reflect before you do anything: many have been led into evil by acting first and thinking afterwards." In another compartment, a lament goes up in which she deplores the death of her husband. "His age was sixty and eightyears," she says. "The dropsy has killed him. I, his afflicted Anna Blickin von Liechtenperg who was left behind, have related it with my hand in this cloth, that might be known to my children this greater sorrow which God has sent me." The cloth is a naïve and unusual record of German home life.
Ecclesiastical embroidery began in the fourth century. In earliest days the work was enhanced with quantities of gold thread. The shroud in which St. Cuthbert's body was wrapped is a mass of gold: a Latin inscription on the vestments in which the body was clad may be thus translated: "Queen to Alfred's son and successor, Edward the Elder, was one Aelflaed, who caused this stole and maniple to be made for a gift to Fridestan consecrated Bishop of Winchester, A. D. 905." The maniple is of "woven gold, with spaces left vacant for needlework embroidery." Such garments for burial were not uncommon; but they have as a rule perished from their long residence underground. St. Cuthbert's vestments are splendid examples of tenth century work in England. After the death of King Edward II., and his wife Aelflaed, Bishop Frithestan also having passed away, Athelstan, as King, made a pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Cuthbert and bestowed these valuable embroideries there. They were removed from the body of the saint in 1827. The style of the work inclines to Byzantine. The Saxon embroideries must have been very decorative: a robe is described by Aldhelme in 709, as "of a most delicate thread of purple, adorned withblack circles and peacocks." At the church at Croyland some vestments were decorated with birds of gold cut out and appliqué and at Exeter they had "nothing about them but true needlework."
In the "Liber Eliensis," in the Muniment room at Ely, is an account of a gift to the church by Queen Emma, the wife of King Knut, who "on a certain day came to Ely in a boat, accompanied by his wife the Queen Emma, and the chief nobles of his kingdom." This royal present was "a purple cloth worked with gold and set with jewels for St. Awdry's shrine," and the Monk Thomas assures us that "none other could be found in the kingdom of the English of such richness and beauty of workmanship."
The various stitches in English work had their several names, the opus plumarium, or straight overlapping stitches, resembling the feathers of a bird; the opus pluvarium, or cross stitch, and many others. A great deal of work was accomplished by means of appliqué in satin and silk, and sometimes the ground was painted, as has already been described in Italian work. In the year 1246 Matthew Paris writes: "About this time the Lord Pope, Innocent IV., having observed that the ecclesiastical ornaments of some Englishmen, such as choristers' copes and mitres, were embroidered in gold thread, after a very desirable fashion, asked where these works were made, and received in answer, 'England.' Then," said the Pope, "England is surely a garden of delight for us; it is truly a never failing Spring, andthere where many things abound much may be extorted." This far sighted Pope, with his semi-commercial views, availed himself of his discovery.
In the days of Anastatius, ecclesiastical garments were spoken of by name according to the motive of their designs: for instance, the "peacock garment," the "elephant chasuble," and the "lion cope." Fuller tells of the use of a pall as an ecclesiastical vestment, remarking tersely: "It is made up of lamb's wool and superstition."
Mediæval embroiderers in England got into certain habits of work, so that there are some designs which are almost as hall-marks to English work; the Cherubim over the wheel is especially characteristic, as is also the vase of lilies, and various heraldic devices which are less frequently found in the embroidered work of European peoples.
The Syon Cope is perhaps the most conspicuous example of the mediæval embroiderer's art. It was made by nuns about the end of the thirteenth century, in a convent near Coventry. It is solid stitchery on a canvas ground, "wrought about with divers colours" on green. The design is laid out in a series of interlacing square forms, with rounded and barbed sides and corners. In each of these is a figure or a scriptural scene. The orphreys, or straight borders which go down both fronts of the cope, are decorated with heraldic charges. Much of the embroidery is raised, and wrought in the stitch known as Opus Anglicanum. The effectwas produced by pressing a heated metal knob into the work at such points as were to be raised. The real embroidery was executed on a flat surface, and then bossed up by this means until it looked like bas-relief. The stitches in every part run in zig-zags, the vestments, and even the nimbi about the heads, are all executed with the stitches slanting in one direction, from the centre of the cope outward, without consideration of the positions of the figures. Each face is worked in circular progression outward from the centre, as well. The interlaces are of crimson, and look well on the green ground. The wheeled Cherubim is well developed in the design of this famous cope, and is a pleasing decorative bit of archaic ecclesiasticism. In the central design of the Crucifixion, the figure of the Lord is rendered in silver on a gold ground. The anatomy is according to the rules laid down by an old sermonizer, in a book entitled "The Festival," wherein it is stated that the body of Christ was "drawn on the cross as a skin of parchment on a harrow, so that all his bones might be told." With such instruction, there was nothing left for the mediæval embroiderers but to render the figure with as much realistic emaciation as possible.
The heraldic ornaments on the Syon Cope are especially interesting to all students of this graceful art. It is not our purpose here to make much allusion to this aspect of the work, but it is of general interest to know that on the orphreys, the devices of most of the noble families of that day appear.
English embroidery fell off greatly in excellence during the Wars of the Roses. In the later somewhat degenerate raised embroidery, it was customary to represent the hair of angels by little tufted curls of auburn silk!
Many of the most important examples of ancient ecclesiastical embroidery are in South Kensington Museum. A pair of orphreys of the fifteenth century, of German work (probably made at Cologne), shows a little choir of angels playing on musical instruments. These figures are cut out and applied on crimson silk, in what was called "cut work." This differed entirely from what modern embroiderers mean by cut work, as has been explained.
The Dalmatic of Charlemagne is given by Louis Farcy to the twelfth century. He calls it the Dalmatic of Leo III. But Lady Alford claims for this work a greater antiquity. Certainly, as one studies its details, one is convinced that it is not quite a Gothic work, nor yet is it Byzantine; for the figures have all the grace of Greek work prior to the age of Byzantine stiffness. It is embroidered chiefly in gold, on a delicate bluish satin ground, and has not been transferred, although it has been carefully restored. The central ornament on the front is a circular composition, and the arrangement of the figures both here and on the back suggests that Sir Edward Burne Jones must have made a study of this magnificent dalmatic, from which it would seem that much of his inspiration might have been drawn. The composition is singularly restful and rhythmical.The little black outlines to the white silk faces, and to the glowing figures, give this work a peculiarly decorative quality, not often seen in other embroideries of the period. It is unique and one of the most valuable examples of its art in the world. It is now in the Treasury of the Vatican. When Charlemagne sang the Gospel at High Mass on the day of his Coronation, this was his vestment. It must have been a strangely gorgeous sight when Cola di Rienzi, according to Lord Lindsay, took this dalmatic, and placed it over his armour, and, with his crown and truncheon, ascended to the palace of the Popes!
A very curious Italian piece of the fourteenth century is an altar frontal, on which the subjects introduced are strange. It displays scenes from the life of St. Ubaldo, with some incidents also in that of St. Julian Hospitaler. St. Ubaldo is seen forgiving a mason who, having run a wall across his private grounds, had knocked the saint down for remonstrating. Another scene shows the death bed of the saint, and the conversion of a possessed man at the foot of the bed: a lady is throwing her arms above her head in astonishment while the evil spirit flies from its victim into the air. Later, the saint is seen going to the grave in a cart drawn by oxen.
The peacock was symbolical both of knightly vigilance and of Christian watchfulness. An old Anglo-Norman, Osmont, writes: "The eye-speckled feathers should warn a man that never too often can he have his eyes wide open, and gaze inwardly upon his own heart." Thesedear people were so introspective and self-conscious, always looking for trouble—in their own motives, even—that no doubt many good impulses perished unnoticed, while the originator was chasing mental phantoms of heresy and impurity.
Painting and jewelry were sometimes introduced in connection with embroideries. In the celebrated Cope of St. John Lateran, the faces and hands of the personages are rendered in painting; but this method was more generally adopted in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when sincerity counted for less than effect, and when genuine religious fervour for giving one's time and best labour to the Lord's service no longer dominated the workers. Gold thread was used extensively in English work, and spangles were added at quite an early period, as well as actual jewels set in floral designs. The finest work was accomplished in the Gothic period, before the Renaissance came with its aimless scrolls to detract from the dignity of churchly ornament.
In the sixteenth century the winged angels have often a degenerate similitude to tightly laced coryphées, who balance themselves upon their wheels as if they were performing a vaudeville turn. They are not as dignified as their archaic predecessors.
Very rich funeral palls were in vogue in the sixteenth century. A description of Prince Arthur's burial in 1502 relates how numerous palls were bestowed, apparently much as friends would send wreaths or importantfloral tributes to-day. "The Lord Powys went to the Queere Doore," writes Leland, "where two gentlemen ushers delivered him a riche pall of cloth of gould of tissue, which he offered to the corpse, where two Officers of the Armes received it, and laid it along the corpse. The Lord Dudley in like manner offered a pall... the Lord Grey Ruthen offered another, and every each of the three Earls offered to the corpse three palls of the same cloth of gould... all the palls were layd crosse over the corpse."
The account of the obsequies of Henry VII. also contains mention of these funeral palls: the Earls and Dukes came in procession, from the Vestry, with "certain palls, which everie of them did bring solemnly between their hands and coming in order one before another as they were in degree, unto the said herse, they kissed their said palls... and laid them upon the King's corpse." At Ann of Cleves' burial the same thing was repeated, in 1557. Finally these rich shimmering hangings came to be known in England as "cloth of pall," whether they were used for funerals or coronations, for bridals or pageants.
The London City Guilds possessed magnificent palls; especially well known is that of the Fishmongers, with its kneeling angels swinging censers; this pall is frequently reproduced in works on embroidery. It is embroidered magnificently with angels, saints, and strange to say, mermaids. The peacock's wings of the angels make a most decorative feature in this famouspiece of old embroidery. The Arms of the Company are also emblazoned.
French embroiderers are known by name in many instances; in 1299 allusion was made to "Clement le Brodeur," who furnished a cope for the Count of Artois, and in 1316 a magnificent set of hangings was made for the Queen, by one Gautier de Poulleigny. Nicolas Waquier was armourer and embroiderer to King John in 1352. Among Court workers in 1384 were Perrin Gale, and Henriet Gautier. In the "Book of Rules" by Etienne Boileau, governing the "Embroiderers and embroideresses of the City of Paris," one of the chief laws was that no work should be permitted in the evening, "because the work of the night cannot be so good or so satisfactory as that accomplished in the day." When one remembers the facilities for evening lighting in the middle ages, one fully appreciates the truth of this statement.
Matthew Paris, in his Life of St. Alban, tells of an excellent embroideress, Christine, Prioress of Margate, who lived in the middle of the twelfth century. In the thirteenth century several names occur. Adam de Bazinge made, in 1241, by order of Henry III. of England, a cope for the Bishop of Hereford. Cunegonde, Abbess of Goss, in Styria, accomplished numerous important works in that period. Also, Henry III. employed Jean de Sumercote to make jewelled robes of state.
On a certain thirteenth century chasuble are the words"Penne fit me" (Penne made me), pointing to the existence of a needleworker of that name. Among the names of the fourteenth century are those of Gautier de Bruceles, Renier de Treit, Gautier de Poulogne, and Jean de Laon, while Jean Harent of Calais is recorded as having worked, for Mme. d'Artois, in 1319, a robe decorated "a bestelettes et a testes." These names prove that the art had been taught in many cities and countries: Ogier de Gant, Jean de Savoie, Etienne le Hongre, and Roger de Varennes, all suggest a cosmopolitan and dispersed number of workers, who finally all appeared in Paris.
René d'Anjou had in his employ a worker in embroidery, named Pierre du Villant. This artist executed a set of needlework pieces for the Cathedral of Angers, of such important proportions that they were known collectively as "La Grande Broderie." In 1462, when they were put in place, a special mass was performed by way of a dedication. The letter which accompanied this princely donation contained the following sentences: "We, René, by the Grace of God... give... to this church... the adornments for a chapell all composd of golden embroidery, comprising five pieces" (which are enumerated) "and an altar cloth illustrated with scenes from the Passion of Our Saviour.... Given in our castle in Angers, the fourth day of March, 1462. René."
In 1479 another altar frontal was presented. Two other rich chapels were endowed by René. One wasknown as La Chapelle Joyeuse, and the other as La Grande Chapelle des Trépassés. It is likely that the same embroiderer executed the pieces of all these.
A guild of embroiderers was in standing in Seville in 1433, where Ordinances were enforced to protect from fraud and otherwise to regulate this industry. The same laws were in existence in Toledo. One of the finest and largest pieces of embroidery in Spain is known as the Tent of Ferdinand and Isabella. This was used in 1488, when certain English Ambassadors were entertained. The following is their description of its use. "After the tilting was over, the majesties returned to the palace, and took the Ambassadors with them, and entered a large room... and there they sat under a rich cloth of state of crimson velvet, richly embroidered, with the arms of Castile and Aragon."
A curious effect must have been produced by a piece of embroidery described in the inventory of Charles V., as "two little pillows with savage beasts having the heads of armed men, and garnished with pearls."
After the Reformation it became customary to use ecclesiastical ornaments for domestic purposes. Heylin, in his "History of the Reformation," makes mention of many "private men's parlours" which "were hung with altar cloths, and their tables and beds covered with copes instead of carpetts and coverlids."
Katherine of Aragon, while the wife of Henry VIII., consoled herself in her unsatisfactory life by needlework: it is related that she and her ladies "occupied themselvesworking with their own hands something wrought in needlework, costly and artificially, which she intended to the honour of God to bestow upon some churches." Katherine of Aragon was such a devoted needlewoman, in fact, that on one occasion Burnet records that she stepped out to speak to two ambassadors, with a skein of silk about her neck, and explained that she had been embroidering with her ladies when they were announced. In an old sonnet she is thus commemorated:
"She to the eighth king Henry married wasAnd afterwards divorced, when virtuously,Although a queen, yet she her days did passIn working with the needle curiously."
Queen Elizabeth was also a clever embroiderer; she worked a book-cover for Katherine Parr, bearing the initials K. P., and it is now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford.
Mary Queen of Scots was also said to be skilful with her needle; in fact it seems to have been the consolation of most queens in their restricted existence in those centuries. Dr. Rock considers that the "corporal" which Mary Queen of Scots had bound about her eyes at the time of her execution, was in reality a piece of her own needle-work, probably wrought upon fine linen. Knight, in describing the scene in his "Picturesque History of England," says: "Then the maid Kennedy took a handkerchief edged with gold, in which the Eucharist had formerly been enclosed, and fastened itover her eyes;" so accounts differ and traditions allow considerable scope for varied preferred interpretation.
It is stated that Catherine de Medicis was fond of needlework, passing her evenings embroidering in silk "which was as perfect as was possible," says Brantôme.
Anne of Brittany instructed three hundred of the children of the nobles at her court, in the use of the needle. These children produced several tapestries, which were presented by the queen to various churches.
The volatile Countess of Shrewsbury, the much married "Bess of Hardwick," was a good embroideress, who worked, probably, in company with the Queen of Scots when that unfortunate woman was under the guardianship of the Earl of Shrewsbury. One of these pieces is signed E. S., and dated 1590.
A form of intricate pattern embroidery in black silk on fine linen was executed in Spain in the sixteenth century, and was known as "black work." Viscount Falkland owns some important specimens of this curious work. It was introduced into England by Katherine of Aragon, and became very popular, being exceedingly suitable and serviceable for personal adornment. The black was often relieved by gold or silver thread.
The Petit Point, or single square stitch on canvas, became popular in England during the reign Elizabeth. It suggested Gobelins tapestry, on a small scale, when finished, although the method of execution is quite different, being needlework pure and simple.
In Elizabeth's time was incorporated the LondonCompany of Broderers, which flourished until about the reign of Charles I., when there is a complaint registered that "trade was so much decayed and grown out of use, that a great part of the company, for want of employment, were much impoverished."
Raised embroidery, when it was padded with cotton, was called Stump Work. This was made extensively by the nuns of Little Gidding in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Decided changes and developments took place in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in all forms of embroidery, but these are not for us to consider at present. A study of historic samples alone is most tempting, but there is no space for the intrusion of any subject much later than the Renaissance.
SCULPTURE IN STONE
(France and Italy)
Sculpture is not properly speaking the "plastic art," as is often understood. The real meaning of sculpture is work which is cut into form, whereas plastic art is work that is moulded or cast into form. Terra cotta, which is afterwards baked, is plastic; and yet becomes hard; thus a Tanagra figurine is an example of plastic art, while a Florentine marble statuette is a product of sculpture. The two are often confounded. We shall allude to them under different heads, taking for our consideration now only such sculpture as is the result of cutting in the stone. The work of Luca Della Robbia will not be treated as sculpture in this book. Luca Della Robbia is a worker in plastic art, while Adam Kraft, hewing directly at the stone, is a sculptor.
We have no occasion to study the art of the sculptor who produces actual statues; only so far as sculpture is a companion to architecture, and a decorative art, does it come within the scope of the arts and crafts. Figure sculpture, then, is only considered when strictly of a monumental character.
In attacking such a subject as sculpture in the Middle Ages it is impossible to do more than indicate the general tendencies in different countries. But there are certain defined characteristics an observance of which will make clear to any reader various fundamental principles by which it is easy to determine the approximate age and style of works.
In the first place, the great general rule of treatment of stone in the North and in the South is to be mentioned. In the Northern countries, France, Germany, and England, the stone which was employed for buildings and their decorations was obtainable in large blocks and masses; it was what, for our purposes, we will call ordinary stone, and could be used in the solid; therefore it was possible for carving in the North to be rendered as deeply and as roundly as the sculptor desired. In Southern countries, however, and chiefly in Italy, the stone used for building was not ordinary, but semi-precious stone. Marble, porphyry, and alabaster were available; and the use of such material led to a different ideal in architecture and decoration,—that of incrustation instead of solid piling. These valuable stones of Italy could not be used, generally speaking, in vast blocks, into which the chisel was at liberty to plough as it pleased; when a mass of marble or alabaster was obtained, the æsthetic soul of the Italian craftsman revolted against shutting up all that beauty of veining and texture in the confines of a solid square, of which only the two sides should ever be visible, and oftenonly one. So he cut his precious block into slices: made slabs and shallow surfaces of it, and these he laid, as an outward adornment to his building, upon a substructure of brick or rubble.
It is easy to perceive, then, the difference of the problem of the sculptors of the North and the South. The plain, solid Northern building was capable of unlimited enrichment by carving; this carving, when deeply cut, with forcible projection, acted as a noble embellishment in which the principal feature was a varied play of light and shade; the stone having little charm of colour or texture in itself, depended for its beauty entirely upon its bold relief, its rounded statuary, and its well shaped chiselled ornament. The shallow surface, already beautiful, both in colour and texture, in the Southern building material, called only for enrichment in low relief: ornament only slightly raised from the level or simply perforating the thin slab of glowing stone on which it was used was the more usual choice of the Italian craftsman.
This statement applies, of course, only to general principles of the art of sculpture; there is some flat bas-relief in the North, and some rounded sculpture in the South; but as a rule the tendencies are as they have just been outlined.
Another difference between sculpture in the North and South is due to the fact that in Italy the work was individual, as a rule, and in France it was the labour of a Guild or company. In Italy it is usually known whowas the author of any striking piece of sculpture, while in France it is the exception when a work is signed, or the names of artisans recorded. In Italy, then, each piece was made more with a view to its own display, than as a part of a building, while in France statuary was regarded as an integral part of the architecture, and rows of figures were used as commonly as rows of columns in Italy. It is tragic to think of the personal skill and brilliancy of all these great French craftsmen being absorbed in one general reputation, while there were undoubtedly among them great art personalities who would have stood equally with the Pisani if they had been recognized.
A good deal of flat carving, especially in the interlace and acanthus of Ravenna, was accomplished by commencing with a series of drilled holes, which were afterwards channelled into each other and formed patterns. When the subsequent finish is not particularly delicate, it is quite easy to detect these symmetrical holes, but the effect, under the circumstances, is not objectionable.
The process of cutting a bas-relief was generally to outline the whole with an incision, and then cut away the background, leaving the simple elevated flat value, the shape of the proposed design. The modelling was then added by degrees, until the figure looked like half of a rounded object. While it is often unpractical to refer one's readers to examples of work in far and various countries, and advise them instantly to examine them, it is frequently possible to call attention to well-produced
plates in certain modern art books which are in nearly every public library. To understand thoroughly the use of the drill in flat sculpture, I wish my readers would refer to Fig. 121 in Mr. Russell Sturgis's "Artist's Way of Working," Vol. II.
In a quaint treatise on Belles Lettres in France nearly two centuries ago, by Carlencas, the writer says: "It is to no great purpose to speak of the Gothick sculptures: for everybody knows that they are the works of a rude art, formed in spite of nature and rules: sad productions of barbrous and dull spirits, which disfigure our old churches." Fie on a Frenchman who could so express himself! We recall the story of how Viollet le Duc made the people of Paris appreciate the wonderful carvings on Notre Dame. All the rage in France was for Greek and Roman remains, and the people persisted in their adoration of the antique, but would not deign to look nearer home, at their great mediæval works of art. So the architect had plaster casts made of the principal figures on the cathedral, and these were treated so as to look like ancient marble statues; he then opened an exhibition, purporting to show new discoveries and excavations among antiques. The exhibition was thronged, and everyone was deeply interested, expressing the greatest admiration for the marvellously expressive sculptures. Viollet le Duc then admitted what he had done, and confessing that these treasures were to be found in their native city, advised them to pay more attention to the beauties of Gothic art in Paris.
We will not enter into a discussion of the relative merits of Northern and Southern art; whether the great revival really originated in France or Italy; but this is certain: Nicolo Pisano lived in the latter half of the thirteenth century, while the great sculptures of Notre Dame, Paris, and those of Chartres, were executed half a century earlier.
But prior to either were the Byzantine and Romanesque sculptures in Italy and Southern France. Our attention must first be turned to them. Charles Eliot Norton's definition of this word Romanesque is as satisfactory as any that could be instanced: "It very nearly corresponds to the term of Romance as applied to language. It signifies the derivation of the main elements, both in plan and construction, from the works of the later Roman Empire. But Romanesque architecture" (and this applies equally to sculpture) "was not, as it has been called, a corrupted imitation of the Roman architecture, any more than the Provençal or the Italian language was a corrupted imitation of the Latin. It was a new thing, the slowly matured product of a long period of many influences."
All mediæval carving was subordinate to architecture, therefore every piece of carving was designed with a view to being suitable to appear in some special place. The most striking difference between mediæval and later sculpture is that the latter is designed as a thing apart, an object to be stood anywhere to be admired for its intrinsic merit, instead of being a functional componentin a general scheme for beautifying a given building.
The use of the interlace in all primitive arts is very interesting. It undoubtedly began in an unconscious imitation of local architecture. For instance, in the British Isles, the building in earliest times was with wattles: practically walls of basket work. William of Malmsbury says that Glastonbury was "a mean structure of wattle work," while of the Monastery of Iona, it is related that in 563, Columba "sent forth his monks to gather twigs to build his hospice." British baskets were famous even so far away as Rome. So the first idea of ornament was to copy the interlacing forms. The same idea was worked out synchronously in metal work, and in illuminated books. Carving in stone, wood, and ivory, show the same influence.
Debased Roman sculptural forms were used in Italy during the fourth and fifth centuries. Then Justinian introduced the Byzantine which was grafted upon the Roman, producing a characteristic and fascinating though barbaric combination. This was the Romanesque, or Romano-Byzantine, in the North of Italy generally being recognized as the Lombard style. The sculptures of this period, from the fifth to the thirteenth century, are blunt and heavy, but full of quaint expression due to the elemental and immature conditions of the art. Many of the old Byzantine carvings are to be seen in Italy.
The Lombards, when invading Northern Italy,brought with them a mighty smith, Paul the Deacon, who had much skill with the hammer. When these rude Norsemen found themselves among the æsthetic treasures of Byzantium, and saw the fair Italian marbles, and the stately work of Theodoric and Justinian, they were inflamed with zeal for artistic expression, and began to hew and carve rough but spirited forms out of the Pisan and Carrara stones. The animals which they sculptured were, as Ruskin has said, "all alive: hungry and fierce, wild, with a life-like spring." The Byzantine work was quiescent: the designs formal, decent, and monumental. But the Lombards threw into their work their own restless energy, and some of their cruelty and relentlessness. Queen Theodolinda, in her palace at Monza, encouraged the arts; it was because of her appreciative comprehension of such things that St. Gregory sent her the famous Iron Crown, of which a description has been given, on the occasion of the baptism of her son. Under the influence of these subsequently civilized barbarians many of the greatest specimens of carving in North Italy came into being. The most delightful little stumpy saints and sacred emblems may be found on the façade of St. Michele at Pavia, and also at Lucca, and on the Baptistery at Parma. The sculptor who produced these works at Parma was a very interesting craftsman, named Antelami. His Descent from the Cross is one of the most striking pieces of early sculpture before the Pisani. He lived in the twelfth century. The figures are ofByzantine proportions and forms, but have a good deal of grace and suggestion of movement.
Among the early names known in Italy is that of Magister Orso, of Verona. Another, in the ninth century, was Magister Pacifico, and in the twelfth there came Guglielmus, who carved the charming naïve wild hunting scenes on the portal of St. Zeno of Verona. These reliefs represent Theodoric on horseback, followed by an able company of men and horses which, according to legend, were supplied by the infernal powers. The eyes of these fugitives have much expression, being rendered with a drill, and standing out in the design as little black holes—fierce and effective.
There is a fine round window at St. Zeno at Verona, designed and executed by one Briolottus, which, intended to represent the Wheel of Fortune, is decorated all over with little clinging figures, some falling and some climbing, and has the motto: "I elevate some mortals and depose others: I give good or evil to all: I clothe the naked and strip the clothed: in me if any one trust he will be turned to derision."
Perhaps the most wonderful carvings on the church of St. Zeno at Verona are over the arched entrance to the crypt. These, being chiefly grotesque animal forms, are signed by Adaminus. Among the humourous little conceits is a couple of strutting cocks carrying between them a dead fox slung on a rod. Ruskin has characterized the carvings at Verona, especially those on the porch, as being among the best examples of the true functionof flat decorative carving in stone. He says: "The primary condition is that the mass shall be beautifully rounded, and disposed with due discretion and order;... sculpture is essentially the production of a pleasant bossiness or roundness of surface. The pleasantness of that bossy condition to the eye is irrespective of imitation on one side, and of structure on the other." The more one considers this statement, the more he is convinced of its comprehensiveness. If the lights and shadows fall pleasantly, how little one stops to inquire, "What is the subject? Do I consider that horse well proportioned, or do I not? Is that woman in good drawing?" Effectiveness is almost independent of detail, except as that detail affects the law of proportion. There are varying degrees of relief: from flat (where the ornament is hardly more than incised, and the background planed away) to a practically solid round figure cut almost entirely free of its ground.
In Venice, until the revival in the thirteenth century, the Greek Byzantine influence was marked. There is no more complete storehouse of the art of the East adapted to mediæval conditions than the Church of St. Mark's. If space permitted, nothing could be more delightful than to examine in detail these marvellous capitals and archivolts which Ruskin has so lovingly immortalized for English readers. Of all decorative sculpture there is none more satisfying from the ornamental point of view than the Byzantine interlace and vine forms so usual in Venice. The only place wherethese may be seen to even greater advantage is Ravenna. The pierced marble screens and capitals, with their restful combinations of interlacing bands and delicate foliate forms, are nowhere surpassed. The use of the acanthus leaf conventionalized in a strictly primitive fashion characterizes most of the Byzantine work in Italy. With these are combined delightful stiff peacocks, and curious bunches of grapes, rosettes, and animal forms of quaint grotesqueness. Such work exemplifies specially what has been said regarding the use of flat thin slabs for sculptural purposes in the South of Europe. Nearly all these carvings are executed in fine marbles and alabasters. The chief works of this period in the round are lions and gryphons supporting columns as at Ancona and Perugia, and many other Italian cities.
In Rome there were several sculptors of the name of Peter. One of them, Peter Amabilis, worked about 1197; and another, Peter le Orfever, went to England and worked on the tomb of Edward the Confessor at Westminster.
In Bologna is an interesting crucifix probably carved in the eighth or ninth century. Christ's figure is upon the cross and that of his mother stands near. The sculptor was Petrus Albericus. On the cross is an inscription in the form of a dialogue: "My son?" "What, Mother?" "Are you God?" "I am." "Why do you hang on the cross?" "That Mankind may not perish."
The Masters of Stone and Wood were among the early Guilds and Corporations of Florence. Charlemagnepatronized this industry and helped to develop it. Of craftsmen in these two branches exclusive of master builders, and recognized artists, there were, in 1299, about a hundred and forty-six members of the Guild.
Italy was backward for a good while in the progress of art, for while great activities were going on in the North, the Doge of Venice in 976 was obliged to import artists from Constantinople to decorate St. Mark's church.
The tombs of this early period in Italy, as elsewhere, are significant and beautiful. Recumbent figures, with their hands devoutly pressed together, are usually seen, lying sometimes on couches and sometimes under architectural canopies.
The first great original Italian sculptor of the Renaissance was Nicola Pisano. He lived through almost the whole of the thirteenth century, being born about 1204, and dying in 1278. What were the early influences of Nicola Pisano, that helped to make him so much more more modern, more truly classic, than any of his age? In the first place, he was born at the moment when interest in ancient art was beginning to awaken; the early thirteenth century. In the Campo Santo of Pisa may be seen two of the most potent factors in his æsthetic education, the Greek sarcophagus on which was carved the Hunting of Meleager, and the Greek urn with Bacchic figures wreathing it in classic symmetry. With his mind tuned to the beautiful, the boy Nioola gazed at the work of genuine pagan Greek artists,who knew the sinuousness of the human form and the joy of living with no thought of the morrow. These joyous pagan elements, grafted on solemn religious surroundings and influences, combined to produce his peculiar genius. Basing his early endeavours on these specimens of genuine classical Greek art, there resulted his wonderful pulpits at Pisa and Siena, and his matchlessly graceful little Madonnas denote the Hellenistic sentiment for beauty. His work was a marked departure from the Byzantine and Romanesque work which constituted Italian sculpture up to that period. An examination of his designs and methods proves his immense originality. By profession he was an architect. Of his pulpit in Siena Charles Eliot Norton speaks with much appreciation. Alluding to the lions used as bases to its columns, he says: "These are the first realistic representations of living animals which the mediæval revival of art has produced; and in vivacity and energy of rendering, and in the thoroughly artistic treatment of leonine spirit and form, they have never been surpassed." It is usually claimed that one may learn much of the rise of Gothic sculpture by studying the models in the South Kensington Museum. In a foot-note to such a statement in a book edited by Ruskin, the indignant editor has observed, "You cannot do anything of the kind. Pisan sculpture can only be studied in the original marble: half its virtue is in the chiselling!" Nicola was assisted in the work on his shrine of St. Dominic at Bologna by one Fra Guglielmo Agnelli, a monk ofa very pious turn, who, nevertheless, committed a curious theft, which was never discovered until his own death-bed confession. He absconded with a bone of St. Dominic, which he kept for private devotions all his subsequent life! An old chronicler says, naïvely: "If piety can absolve from theft, Fra Guglielmo is to be praised, though never to be imitated."
Andrea Pisano was Nicola's greatest scholar, though not his son. He took the name of his master after the mediæval custom. His work was largely in bronze, and the earlier gates of the Baptistery in Florence are by him. We have already alluded to the later gates by Ghiberti, when speaking of bronze. Andrea had the honour to teach the celebrated Orcagna,—more painter than sculptor,—whose most noted work in this line was the Tabernacle at Or San Michele. Among the loveliest of the figures sculptured by the Pisani are the angels standing in a group, blowing trumpets, on the pulpit at Pistoja, the work of Giovanni. Among Nicola's pupils were his son Giovanni, Donatello, Arnolfo di Cambio, and Lorenzo Maitani, who executed the delightful sculptures on the façade of the Cathedral of Orvieto,—perhaps the most interesting set of bas-reliefs in detail of the Early Renaissance, although in general symmetrical "bossiness" of effect, so much approved by Ruskin, they are very uneven. In this respect they come rather under the head of realistic than of decorative art.
Lorenzo Maitani was a genuine leader of his guild of craftsmen, and superintended the large body of architectswho worked at Orvieto, stone masons, mosaicists, bronze founders, painters, and minor workmen. He lived until 1330, and practically devoted his life to Orvieto. It is uncertain whether any of the Pisani were employed in any capacity, although for a time it was popularly supposed that the four piers on the façade were their work. An iconographic description of these sculptures would occupy too much time here, but one or two features of special interest should be noted: the little portrait relief of the master Maitani himself occurs on the fourth pier, among the Elect in heaven, wearing his workman's cap and carrying his architect's square. Only his head and shoulders can be seen at the extreme left of the second tier of sculptures. In accordance with an early tradition, that Virgil was in some wise a prophet, and that he had foretold the coming of Christ, he is here introduced, on the second pier, near the base, crowned with laurel. The incident of the cutting off of the servant's ear, by Peter, is positively entertaining. Peter is sawing away industriously at the offending member; a fisherman ought to understand a more deft use of the knife! In the scenes of the Creation, depicted on the first pier, Maitani has proved himself a real nature lover in the tender way he has demonstrated the joy of the birds at finding the use of their wings.
The earliest sculptures in France were very rude,—it was rather a process than an art to decorate a building with carvings as the Gauls did! But the latent race talent was there; as soon as the Romanesque andByzantine influences were felt, a definite school of sculpture was formed in France; almost at once they seized on the best elements of the craft and abandoned the worthless, and the great note of a national art was struck in the figures at Chartres, Paris, Rheims, and other cathedrals of the Ile de France.
Prior to this flowering of art in Northern France, the churches of the South of France developed a charming Romanesque of their own, a little different from that in Italy. A monk named Tutilon, of the monastery of St. Gall, was among the most famous sculptors of the Romanesque period. Another name is that of Hughes, Abbot of Montier-en-Der. At the end of the tenth century one Morard, under the patronage of King Robert, built and ornamented the Church of St. Germain des Près, Paris, while Guillaume, an Abbot at Dijon, was at the head of the works of forty monasteries. Guillaume probably had almost as wide an influence upon French art as St. Bernward had on the German, or Nicola Pisano on that of Italy. In Metz were two noted architects, Adelard and Gontran, who superintended the building of fourteen churches, and an early chronicler says that the expense was so great that "the imperial treasury would scarce have sufficed for it."
At Arles are two of the most famous monuments of Romanesque art, the porches of St. Trophime, and of St. Gilles. The latter exhibits almost classical feeling and influence; the former is much blunter and more Byzantine; both are highly interesting for purposesof study, being elaborately ornamented with figure sculptures and other decorative motives.
Abbot Suger, the art-craftsman par excellence of the Ile de France, was the sculptor in chief of St. Denis from 1137 to 1180. This magnificent façade is harmonious in its treatment, betokening plainly that one brain conceived and carried out the plan. We have not the names of the minor architects and sculptors who were employed, but doubtless they were the scholars and followers of Suger, and rendered work in a similar manner.
There are some names which have been handed down from early times in Normandy: one Otho, another Garnier, and a third, Anquetil, while a crucifix carved by Auquilinus of Moissac was popularly believed to have been created by divine means. If one will compare the statues of St. Trophime of Arles with those at St. Denis, it will be found that the latter are better rounded, those at St. Trophime being coarsely blocked out; although at first glance one would say that there was little to choose between them.
The old font at Amiens is very ancient, older than the church. It is seven feet long, and stands on short square piers: it resembles a stone coffin, and was apparently so made that a grown person might be baptized by immersion, by lying at full length. Angels holding scrolls are carved at its four corners, otherwise it is very plain. There is an ancient Byzantine crucifix at Amiens, on which the figure of Our Lord is fully draped, and on hishead is a royal crown instead of thorns. The figure, too, is erect, as if to invite homage by its outstretched arms, instead of suggesting that the arms had to bear the weight of the body. Indeed, it is a Christ triumphant and regnant though crucified—a very unusual treatment of the subject in the Middle Ages. It was brought from the East, in all probability, by a returning warrior from the Crusades.
The foundation of Chartres was very early: the first Bishop St. Aventin occupied his see as early as 200 A. D. The early Gothic type in figure sculpture is always characterized by a few features in common, though different districts produced varying forms and facial expressions. The figures are always narrow, and much elongated, from a monumental sentiment which governed the design of the period. The influence of the Caryatid may have remained in the consciousness of later artists, leading them to make their figures conform so far as expedient to the proportions of the columns which stood behind them and supported them. In any case, it was considered an indispensable condition that these proportions should be maintained, and has come to be regarded as an architectural necessity. As soon as sculptors began to consider their figures as realistic representations of human beings instead of ornamental motives in their buildings, the art declined, and poor results followed.
The west porch of Chartres dates from the twelfth century. The church was injured by fire in 1194. In1226 certain restorations were made, and an old chronicle says that at that time it was quite fire-proof, remarking: "It has nothing to fear from any earthly fire from this time to the day of Judgment, and will save from fires eternal the many Christians who by their alms have helped in its rebuilding." The whole edifice was consecrated by St. Louis on Oct. 17, 1260. The King gave the north porch, and several of the windows, and the whole royal family was present at this impressive function.
About the time of William the Conqueror it became customary to carve effigies on tombstones, at first simple figures in low relief lying on flat slabs: this idea being soon elaborated, however, into canopied tombs, which grew year by year more ornate, until Gothic structures enriched with finials and crockets began to be erected in churches to such an extent that the interior of the edifice was quite filled with these dignified little buildings. In many instances it is quite impossible to obtain any view of the sanctuary except looking directly down the central aisle; the whole ambulatory is often one continuous succession of exquisite sepulchral monuments.
Perhaps the most satisfying monument of French Gothic style is the tomb of the elder son of St. Louis at St. Denis. The majesty of the recumbent figure is striking, but the little procession of mourners about the main body of the tomb is absolutely unrivalled in art of this character. The device of little weeping figuressurrounding the lower part of a tomb is also carried out in an exquisite way on the tomb of Aymer de Valence in Westminster.
Some interesting saints are carved on the north portal of Amiens, among others, St. Ulpha, a virgin who is chiefly renowned for having lived in a chalk cave near Amiens, where she was greatly annoyed by frogs. Undaunted, she prayed so lustily and industriously, that she finally succeeded in silencing them!
The thirteenth century revival in France was really a new birth; almost more than a Renaissance. It is a question among archæologists if France was not really more original and more brilliant than Italy in this respect. A glance at such figures as the Virgin from the Gilded Portal at Amiens, and another Virgin from the same cathedral, will show the change which came over the spirit of art in that one city during the thirteenth century. The figure on the right door of the western façade is a work of the early part of the century. She is grave and dignified in bearing, her hand extended in favour, while the Child gives the blessing in calm majesty. This figure has the spirit of a goddess receiving homage, and bestowing grace: it is conventional and monumental. The Virgin from the Gilded Portal is of a later generation. Her attention is given to the Child, and her aspect is human and spirited,—almost merry. It may be said to be less religious than the other statue, but it is filled with more modern grace and charm, and glorifies the idea of happy maternity: every angle andfold of the drapery is full of life and action without being over realistic. There is much in common between this pleasing statue and the Virgins of the Pisani in Italy.