THE ARTS IN THE MIDDLE AGES,
AND AT THE PERIOD OF THE RENAISSANCE.

THE ANNUNCIATION.

Fac-simile of a Miniature from the “Hours” of Anne de Bretagne formerly belonging to Catherine de Medicis

(Library of M. A. Firmin Didot.)

THE ARTS
IN
THE MIDDLE AGES,
AND AT THE PERIOD OF
THE RENAISSANCE.

By PAUL LACROIX
(Bibliophile Jacob),
CURATOR OF THE IMPERIAL LIBRARY OF THE ARSENAL, PARIS.
Illustrated with
NINETEEN CHROMOLITHOGRAPHIC PRINTS BY F. KELLERHOVEN
AND UPWARDS OF
FOUR HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD.
FOURTH THOUSAND.
LONDON:
BICKERS AND SON, 1, LEICESTER SQUARE.

PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.

It may fairly be presumed that The Arts in the Middle Ages will find equal favour in England, where so much attention has of late years been given to the subject in all its various ramifications; and where,—in our National Museum, Kensington, especially,—we are accumulating so extensive and valuable a collection of objects associated with the epochs referred to by M. Lacroix.

In preparing these sheets for the press, my task has been little more than to put an excellent and conscientious literal translation of the French text into language somewhat in harmony with the construction of our own. In so doing, however, it has been my object to retain, as far as practicable, the peculiar—sometimes the quaint—phraseology of the original writing. A few notes are added when they appeared necessary by way of explaining terms, &c., or to render them more intelligible to the general reader. But some words are used by the Author for which no English equivalent can be found: these have been allowed to stand without note or comment.

JAMES DAFFORNE.

Brixton, February, 1870.

PREFACE TO THE SECOND FRENCH EDITION.

This exceptional result, especially as regards a publication of such extent, induces us to believe that our work, thus known and appreciated by the learned, may and ought henceforth to have still greater success by addressing itself to a yet larger number of readers.

With this conviction we now present to the public one of the principal portions of that important work, and perhaps the most interesting, in a form more simple, easier, and more pleasing; within the reach of youth who desire to learn without weariness or irksomeness, of females interested in grave authors, of the family that loves to assemble round a book altogether instructive and attractive. We would speak of the “Arts in the Middle Ages, and at the Period of the Renaissance.” After having reunited the scattered materials on this subject, we have ranged them each in its own rank, taking care to discard all crudity of learning and to preserve in our work the brilliant colouring in which it was first clothed.

All the Arts are interesting in themselves. Their productions awaken attention and excite curiosity. But here it is not one Art only that is treated of. We pass in review all the Arts, starting from the fourth century to the second half of the sixteenth—Architecture raising churches and abbeys, palaces and public memorials, strong fortresses and the ramparts of cities; Sculpture adorning and perfecting other Arts by its works in stone, marble, bronze, wood, and ivory; Painting, commencing with mosaic and enamels, contributing to the decoration of buildings jointly with stained glass and frescoes, embellishing and illuminating manuscripts before it arrived at its highest point of perfection, with the Art of Giotto and Raphael, of Hemling and Albert Dürer; Engraving on wood and metal, with which is associated the work of the medallist and the goldsmith; and after attempting to touch upon Playing-cards and Niello-work, we suddenly evoke that sublime invention destined to change the face of the world—Printing. Such are, in brief, some of the principal features of this splendid picture. One can imagine what an infinity, what variety and richness, of details it should contain.

Our subject presents, at the same time, another kind of interest more elevated and not less alluring. Here each Art appears in its different phases and in its diversified progress. It is a history, not alone of the Arts, but of the epoch itself in which they were developed; for the Arts, regarded in their generality, are the truest expression of society. They speak to us of tastes, of ideas, of character: they exhibit us in their works. Of all an age can leave to the future concerning itself, that which represents it most vividly is Art: the Arts of an epoch revivify it, and bring it back before our eyes.

It is this which forms our book. Yet, we must remark, here its interest is redoubled, for we retrace not only a single era, but two eras very distinct from each other. In the first, that of the Middle Ages, which followed the invasion of the Northmen, society was in a great measure formed of new and barbarous elements, which Christianity laboured to break up and fashion. In the second epoch, on the contrary, society was organised and firmly established; it enjoyed peace, and reaped its fruits. The Arts followed the same phases. At first rude and informal, they rose slowly and by degrees, like society, out of chaos. At length they nourished in perfect freedom, and progressed with all the energy of which the human mind is capable. Hence the successive advances whose history presents a marvellous interest.

During the Middle Ages, Art generally followed the inspirations of that Christian spirit which presided at the formation of this new world. It arose to reproduce in an admirable manner the religious ideal. Only towards the end of that period it searched out for beauty of form, and began to find it when the Renaissance made its appearance: the Renaissance, that is, the intellectual revolution, which, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, restored among modern nations the sceptre to Literature and the Arts of antiquity. Then, with the Renaissance, the Arts changed their direction, and especially the principal Arts, those by which the genius of man expresses most forcibly his ideas and his feelings. Thus, in the Middle Ages, a new style of architecture is created that rapidly attained the highest degree of perfection, the ogival (later Gothic or flamboyant), of which we see the chefs-d’œuvre in our cathedrals: at the Renaissance, this was replaced by architecture derived from that of the Greeks and Romans, which also produced admirable works, but almost always less in harmony with the dignity and splendour of worship. In the Middle Ages, Painting chiefly applied itself to represent the beau idéal of the religious mind reflecting itself in the countenance; at the Renaissance, it is the beauty of the physical form, so perfectly expressed by the ancients. Sculpture, which comes nearer to Painting, followed at the same time all similar phases, drawing the art of Engraving with it. Do not the diversified changes through which the Arts passed, as retraced in this book during two epochs, present to the intelligent reader a succession of facts of the highest interest and a history most instructive?

Our work is the only existing one on this great and magnificent subject, of which the materials are scattered through a multitude of volumes. Thus for the success of this undertaking it became necessary to unite with us in our task men most distinguished by their learning and talents: we are permitted to cite the names of MM. Ernest Breton, Aimé Champollion, Champollion-Figeac, Pierre Dubois, Duchesne, Ferdinand Denis, Jacquemart, Arch. Juvinal, Jules Labarte, Lassus, Louandre, Prosper Mérimée, Alfred Michiels, Gabriel Peignot, Riocreux, De Saulcy, Jean Designeur, le Marquis de Varennes. After such a list we record our own name only to acknowledge that we have gone over and recast these various works, and presented them in a form which gives them more unity, but owes to them all the interest and all the charm it may offer.

The numerous illustrations that adorn the work will engage the eye, while the text will speak to the intelligence. The designs in chromolithography are executed by M. Kellerhoven, who for several years has made the art one of a high order, worthy to shine among the finest works of our greatest painters, as is proved by his “Chefs-d’œuvre of the Great Masters,” “Lives of the Saints,” and “Legend of St. Ursula.”

No one is ignorant of the attention given in these days to archæology. Information about objects of antiquity is necessary to every instructed person. It ought to be studied so far as to enable us to appreciate, or at least to recognise, the examples of olden time in Architecture, Painting, &c., that present themselves to our notice. Thus it has become for the young of each sex indispensable to good education. The perusal of this book will be for such an attractive introduction to that knowledge which for too long a time was the exclusive domain of the learned.

PAUL LACROIX
(Bibliophile Jacob).

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE ARTS IN THE MIDDLE AGES,
AND AT THE PERIOD OF
THE RENAISSANCE.

FURNITURE:
ORDINARY HOUSEHOLD, AND APPERTAINING TO ECCLESIASTICAL PURPOSES.

Simplicity of Furniture among the Gauls and Franks.—Introduction of costly taste in articles of Furniture of the Seventh Century.—Arm-chair of Dagobert.—Round Table of King Artus.—Influence of the Crusades.—Regal Banquet in the time of Charles V.—Benches.—Sideboards.—Dinner Services.—Goblets.—Brassware.—Casks.—Lighting.—Beds.—Carved Wood Furniture.—Locksmith’s Work.—Glass and Mirrors.—Room of a Feudal Seigneur.—Costliness of Furniture used for Ecclesiastical Purposes.—Altars.—Censers.—Shrines and Reliquaries.—Gratings and Iron-mountings.

Then succeeded the Roman Conquest. Originally, and long subsequent to the formation of their warlike republic, the Romans had also lived in contempt of display, and even in ignorance of the conveniences of life. But when they had subjugated Gaul, and had carried their victorious arms to the confines of the world, they by degrees appropriated whatever the manners and habits of the conquered nations disclosed to them of refined luxury, material progress, and ingenious devices for comfort. Thus, the Romans brought with them into Gaul what they elsewhere had acquired. Again, when, in their turn, the semi-barbarous hordes of Germany and of the Northern steppes invaded the Roman empire, these new conquerors did not fail to accommodate themselves instinctively to the social condition of the vanquished.

This, briefly stated, is an explanation—we admit, rather concise—of the transition connecting the characteristics of the society of olden days with those of modern society.

Society in the Middle Ages—that social epoch which may be compared to the state of a decrepid and worn-out old man, who, after a long, dull torpor awakes to new life, like an active and vigorous child—society in the Middle Ages inherited much from preceding times, though, to a certain extent, they were disconnected. It transformed, perhaps; and it perfected, rather than invented; but it displayed in its works a genius so peculiar that we generally recognise in it a real creation.

Proposing rapidly to pursue our archæological and literary course through a twofold period of birth and revival, we cannot indulge the belief that we shall succeed in exhibiting our sketches in a light the best adapted to their effect. However, we will make the attempt, and, the frame being given, will do our best to fill in the picture.

If we visit any royal or princely abode of the Merovingian period, we observe that the display of wealth consists much less in the elegance or in the originality of the forms devised for articles of furniture, than in the profusion of precious materials employed in their fabrication and embellishment. The time had gone by when the earliest tribes of Gauls and of Northmen, who came to occupy the West, had for their seats and beds only trusses of straw, rush mats, and bundles of branches; and for their tables slabs of stone or piles of turf. From the fifth century of the Christian era, we already find the Franks and the Goths resting their muscular forms on the long soft seat which the Romans had adopted from the East, and which have become our sofas or our couches; changing only their names. In front of them were arranged low horse-shoe tables, at which the centre seat was reserved for the most dignified or illustrious of the guests. Couches at the table, suited only to the effeminacy induced by warm climates, were soon abandoned by the Gauls; benches and stools were adopted by these most active and vigorous men; meals were no longer eaten reclining, but sitting: while the thrones of kings, and the chairs of state for nobles, were of the richest sumptuousness. Thus, for instance, we find St. Eloi, the celebrated worker in metals, manufacturing and embellishing two state-chairs of gold for Clotaire, and a throne of gold for Dagobert. The chair ascribed to St. Eloi, and known as the Fauteuil de Dagobert ([Fig. 1]), is an antique consular chair, which originally was only a folding one; the Abbé Suger, in the twelfth century, added to it the back and arms. Artistic display was equally lavished on the manufacture of tables. Historians tell us that St. Remy, a contemporary of Clovis, had a silver table decorated all over with sacred subjects. The poet Fortunat, Bishop of Poitiers, describes a table of the same metal, which had a border representing a vine with bunches of grapes.

Fig. 1.—The Curule Chair called the “Fauteuil de Dagobert,” in gilt bronze, now in the Musée des Souverains.

Coming to the reign of Charlemagne, we find, in a passage in the writings of Eginhard, his minister and historian, that, in addition to a golden table which this great monarch possessed, he had three others of chased silver; one decorated with designs representing the city of Rome, another Constantinople, and the third “all countries of the universe.”

Fig. 2.—Chair of the Ninth or Tenth Century, taken from a Miniature of that period (MS. de la Bibl. Imp. de Paris).

The chairs or seats of the Romanesque period ([Fig. 2]) exhibit an attempt to revive in the interior of the buildings, where they were used, the architectural style of contemporary monuments. They were large and massive, and were raised on clusters of columns expanding at the back in three semicircular rows. The anonymous monk of Saint-Gall, in his chronicle written in the ninth century, alludes to a grand banquet, at which the host was seated on cushions of feathers. Legrand d’Aussy tells us, in his “Histoire de la Vie Privée des Français,” that at a later date—referring to the reign of Louis le Gros, in the beginning of the twelfth century—the guests were seated, at ordinary family repasts, on simple stools; but if the party was more of a ceremonious than intimate character, the table was surrounded with benches, or bancs, whence the term banquet is derived. The form of table was commonly long and straight, but on occasions of state it was semicircular, or like a horse-shoe in form, recalling the Romanesque round table of King Artus of Brittany ([Fig. 3]).

Fig. 3.—Round Table of King Artus of Brittany, from a Miniature of the Fourteenth Century (MS. de la Bibl. Imp. de Paris).

The Crusades, bringing together men of all the countries of Europe with the people of the East, made those of the West acquainted with luxuries and customs which, on returning from their chivalrous expeditions, they did not fail to imitate. We find feasts at which they ate sitting cross-legged on the ground, or stretched out on carpets in the Oriental fashion, as represented and described in miniatures contained in the manuscripts of that period. The Sire de Joinville, the friend and historian of Louis IX., informs us that this saintly king was in the habit of sitting on a carpet, surrounded by his barons, and in that manner he dispensed justice; but at the same time the practice of using large chaires, or arm-chairs, continued, for there still is to be seen a throne in massive wood belonging to that period, and called le banc de Monseigneur St. Louis, embellished with carvings representing fanciful and legendary birds and animals. It is unnecessary to add that the lower orders did not aspire to so much refinement. In their abodes the seats in use were settles, chests, or at best benches, the supports of which were, to a slight extent, carved.

This was the period when the practice commenced of covering seats with woollen stuffs, or with silk figured on frames, or embroidered by hand, displaying ciphers, emblems, or armorial bearings. From the East was introduced the custom of hangings for rooms, composed of glazed leather, stamped and gilt. These skins of the goat or sheep were called or basané, because plain gilt; or embossed leather, in gold colour, was made from them. Or basané was also used to conceal the bare look of arm-chairs. Towards the fourteenth century, tables of precious metals disappeared, in consequence of fashion ruling in favour of the stuffs which covered them; tapestry, tissues of gold, and velvets thenceforth formed the table-cloths. On great occasions, the place of the principal guests was distinguished by a canopy, more or less rich, erected above their seats, as represented in the account of the sumptuous feast given by King Charles V. to the Emperor Charles of Luxemburg, in the great hall of the palace. M. Fréguier thus describes the banquet from contemporary documents in the “Histoire de l’Administration de la Police de Paris:”—

“The dinner was served on a marble table. The Archbishop of Rheims, who had officiated that day, first took his place at table. The Emperor then sat down, then the King of France, and the King of Bohemia, the son of the Emperor. Above the seat of each of the three princes was a separate canopy of gold cloth, embroidered all over with fleurs-de-lis. These three canopies were surmounted by a larger one, also of cloth of gold, which covered the whole extent of the table, and was suspended behind the guests. After the King of Bohemia, three bishops took their place, but far removed from him, and near the end of the table. Under the nearest canopy the Dauphin was seated, at a separate table, with several princes or nobles of the Court of France, or of the Emperor. The hall was adorned with three buffets, or dressers, covered with gold and silver plate; these three dressers, as well as the two large canopies, were protected by a railing, to prevent the intrusion of the crowds of people who had been permitted to witness the magnificence of the display. Finally, there were to be seen five other canopies, under which were assembled princes and barons round private tables; also numerous other tables.”

It is noteworthy that from the time of St. Louis these same chairs and seats, carved, covered with the richest stuffs, inlaid with precious stones, and engraved with the armorial bearings of great houses, issued for the most part from the workshops of Parisian artisans. Those artisans, carpenters, manufacturers of coffers and carved chests, and furniture-makers, were so celebrated for works of this description, that in inventories and appraisements of furniture great care was taken to specify that such and such articles among them were of Parisian manufacture; ex operagio Parisiensi ([Fig. 4]).

Fig. 4.—Louis IX. represented in his Regal Chair, tapestried in fleurs-de-lis, from a Miniature of the Fourteenth Century. (MS. de la Bibl. Imp. de Paris.).

The following extract, from an invoice of Etienne La Fontaine, the royal silversmith, affords, in terms which require no comment, an idea of the costliness lavished on the manufacture of an arm-chair, then called faudesteuil, intended for the King of France, in 1352:—

“For making a fauteuil of silver and of crystal decorated with precious stones, delivered to the said seigneur, of which the said seigneur ordered the said goldsmith to make the framework, who ornamented it with several crystals, illuminated pieces, many designs, pearls, and other stones.... VIIᶜ LXXIIIIᵐ (774 louis).

“For illuminated pieces placed under the crystals of the said fauteuil, of which there are 40 of the armorial bearings of France, 61 of the prophets holding scrolls, 112 half-length figures of animals on gold ground, and 4 large representations of the judgments of Solomon.... VIˣˣᵐ (620 louis).

“For twelve crystals for the said fauteuil, of which five are hollow to hold the bâtons, six flat, and one round,” &c.

Fig. 5.—Seats from Miniatures of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries.

It was only towards the commencement of the fifteenth century that chairs stuffed with straw or rushes first appeared; they folded in the form of the letter X ([Fig. 5]); the seats and arms being stuffed. In the sixteenth century chairs with backs (chaires or chayeres à dorseret), in carved oak or chestnut, painted and gilt, fell into disuse, even in the royal castles, as being too heavy and inconvenient, and on account of their enormous size ([Figs. 6] and [7]).

The dresser, which has just been described as used at the grand feast of Charles V., and which moreover has been retained, altered to a sideboard with shelves, almost to our time, was an article manufactured much less for use than for show. It was upon this dresser,—the introduction of which does not appear to go further back than the twelfth century, and the name whereof sufficiently describes its purpose,—that there was displayed, in the vast halls of manorial residences, not only all the valuable plate required for the table, but many other objects of goldsmith’s work which played no part in the banquet—vases of all sorts, statuettes, figures in high relief, jewels,

Fig. 6.—Christine de Pizan, contemporary with Charles V. and Charles VI., seated on a Chair in carved wood with back and canopy, and tapestry of worsted or figured silk. The box or chest which formed the writing-table contained books. (Miniature from a MS. in the Bibl. of Burgundy-Bruxelles, Fifteenth Century.)

and even reliquaries. In palaces and mansions, the dressers were of gold, silver, or copper gilt; as were previously the tables. Persons of inferior rank had only wooden tables, but they were scrupulous in covering them with tapestry, embroidered cloth, and fine table-cloths. At one time the display of wealth on the dressers in ecclesiastical establishments attained to such a point, that we are reminded, among other censures levelled against that fashionable exhibition of vanity, of the expostulations of Martial d’Auvergne, author of the historical poem, “Les Vigiles de Charles VII.,” addressed to the bishops on the subject. One item significant enough is mentioned in ancient documents; it is the tribute of half-a-dozen small bouquets, which the inhabitants of Chaillot were bound to tender annually to the Abbey of Saint-German des Prés, to decorate the dressers of Messire the Abbot.

Fig. 7.—Louise de Savoie, Duchess of Angoulême, mother of Francis I., seated in a high-backed Chair of carved wood. (Miniature from a MS. in the Imp. Bibl. of Paris.)

More plain, but also more useful, were the abace and the crédence, other kinds of sideboards which generally stood at a little distance from the table; on one of these were placed the dishes and plates for removes, on the other the goblets, glasses, and cups. It may be added that the crédence, before it was introduced in the dining-halls, had from very remote times been used in churches, where it was placed near the altar to receive the sacred vessels during the sacrifice of mass.

Posidonius, the Stoic philosopher, who wrote about a hundred years before the Christian era, tells us that, at the feasts of the Gauls, a slave used to bring to table an earthenware, or a silver, jug filled with wine, from which every guest quaffed in turn, and allayed his thirst. We thus see the practice of using goblets of silver, as well as of earthenware, established among the Gauls at a period we consider primitive. In truth, those vessels of silver were probably not the productions of local industry, but the spoil which those martial tribes had acquired in their wars against more civilised nations. With regard to the vases of baked clay, the majority of those frequently exhumed from burial-grounds prove how coarse they were, though they seem to have been made with the help of the potter’s wheel, as among the Romans. However that may be, we think it best to omit the consideration of the question in this place, and to resume it in the chapter on the Ceramic Art. But we must not forget to notice the custom which prevailed among the earliest inhabitants of our country, of offering to those most renowned for their valour beverages in a horn of the urus, which was either gilt or ornamented with bands of gold or silver. The urus was a species of ox, now extinct, that existed in a wild state in the forests with which Gaul was then partly covered. This horn goblet long continued to be the emblem of the highest warlike dignity among the nations who succeeded the Gauls. William of Poitiers relates, in his “Histoire de Guillaume le Conquérant,” that towards the end of the eleventh century, this Duke of Normandy still drank out of the horn of a bull, when he held his full court at Fécamp.

Our ancient kings, whose tables were made of the most precious metals, failed not also to display rare magnificence in the plate that stood on those superb tables. Chroniclers relate, for example, that Chilperic, “on the pretext of doing honour to the people whom he governed, had a dish made of solid gold, ornamented all over with precious stones, and weighing fifty pounds;” and again, that Lothaire one day distributed among his soldiers the fragments of an enormous silver basin, on which was designed “the world, with the courses of the stars and the planets.” In the absence of any authentic documents, it must be presumed that, in contrast to this regal style, or rather far removed therefrom, the rest of the nation scarcely used any other utensils but those of earthenware, or wood; or else of iron or copper.

Advancing in the course of centuries, and till the period when the progress of the ceramic art enabled its productions at length to rank among articles of luxury, we find gold and silver always preferred for dinner services; but marble, rock crystal, and glass appeared in turn, artistically worked in a thousand elegant or singular forms, as cups, ewers, large tumblers, goblets, &c. (Fig 8).

Fig. 8.—A State Banquet in the Fifteenth Century, with the service of dishes brought in and handed round to the sound of musical instruments. (Miniature from a MS. in the Imp. Lib. in Paris.)

To the goblet, especially, seem to belong all honorary privileges in the etiquette of the table; for the goblet, a sort of large chalice on a thin stem, was more particularly regarded as an object of distinction by the guests, on account of the supposed antiquity of its origin. Thus we see represented among the presents given to the Abbey of St. Denis by the Emperor Charles the Bald, a goblet which is alleged to have belonged to Solomon, “which goblet was so marvellously wrought, that never (oncques) was there in all the kingdoms of the world a work so delicate (subtile).”

The goldsmiths, sculptors, and workers in copper had recourse to all the devices of art and imagination to embellish goblets, ewers, and salt-cellars. We find allusions, in the recitals of chroniclers, the romances of chivalry, and especially in old invoices and inventories, to ewers representing men, roses, and dolphins; to goblets covered with flowers and animals; to salt-cellars in the form of dragons, &c.

Several large pieces of gold plate, discontinued at a later period, glittered then at grand banquets. Especially may be noted the portable fountains raised in the middle of the table, and from which, during the repast, flowed several sorts of beverages. Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, had one in the form of a fortress with towers, from the summit of which the figure of a woman poured out hippocras (spiced wine) from her bosom, and that of a child, which sprinkled perfumed water.

There were also plate-holders, well described by Du Cange as large dishes made to contain vessels, cups, knives; comfit-boxes, which have been replaced by our modern bonbonnières, and which formerly were valuable caskets chased and damaskeened; and lastly, almsboxes, a description of metal-urns, richly chased; these were placed before the guests in order that, according to an ancient custom, each might place therein some portions of meat, to be subsequently distributed to the poor.

If we glance at the other minor objects which completed the table-service—knives, spoons, forks, bottle-stands, plate-mats, &c.—we shall see that they no less indicate refinement and luxury. Forks, that now seem to us so indispensable, are mentioned for the first time in 1379, in an inventory of Charles V. They had only two prongs, or rather two long sharp points. As for knives, which, with spoons, had to supply the place of forks for the guests to eat with, their antiquity is undoubted. Posidonius, whom we have already quoted, says, when speaking of the Celts:—“They eat in a very slovenly manner, and seize with their hands, like lions with their claws, whole quarters of meat, which they tear in pieces with their teeth. If they find a tough morsel, they cut it with a small knife which they always carry in a sheath at their side.” Of what were these knives made? Our author does not tell us; but we may assume that they were of flint or of polished stone, like the hatchets and arrow-heads so frequently found where these ancient people dwelt, and which bear testimony to their industry.

In the thirteenth century mention is made of knives, under the name of mensaculæ and artavi, which a little later were known by the word kenivet, from which evidently is derived canif. To complete this connection, we may remark that it is to be gathered, from a passage by the same author, that the blades of some knives of that period were made to slide into the handle by means of a spring, like our pocket-knives.

Spoons, which necessarily were used by all nations as soon as dishes more or less liquid were introduced, are described from the date of almost our earliest history. Accordingly, we see, in the “Life of St. Radegonde,” that that princess, who was constantly engaged in charitable acts, used a spoon for feeding the blind and the helpless whom she took under her care.

At a very remote period we find in use turquoises, or nut-crackers. Cruet-stands were, excepting in form, very similar to stands for two bottles; for they are thus described:—“A kind of double-necked bottle in divisions, in which to place two sorts of liquors without mixing them.” The plate-mats were our dessous de plat, made of wicker, wood, tin, or other metal.

The manufacture of the greater number of these articles, if intended for persons of rank, did not fail to engage the industry of artisans and the talent of artists. Spoons, forks, nut-crackers, cruet-stands, sauce-boats, &c., furnished inexhaustible subjects for embellishment and chasing; knife-handles, made of ivory, cedar-wood, gold, or silver, were also fashioned in the most varied forms. Until ceramic art introduced plates more or less costly, they naturally enough followed the shape of dishes, which in fact they are, on a small scale. But if the dishes were of enormous size, the plates were always very small.

If from the dining-room we pass to the kitchen, so as to form some idea of culinary utensils, we must admit that, anterior to the thirteenth century, the most circumstantial documents are all but silent on the subject. Nevertheless, some of the ancient poets and early romancers allude to those huge mechanical spits on which, at one and the same time, large joints of different kinds, entire sheep, or long rows of poultry and game, could be roasted. Moreover, we know that in palaces, and in the mansions of the nobility, copper cooking-utensils possessed real importance, because the care and maintenance of the copper-ware was entrusted to a person who bore the title of maignen, a name still given to the itinerant tinker. We also find that from the twelfth century there existed the corporation of braziers (dinans), who executed historical designs, in relievo, by the use of the hammer in beating out and embossing copper,—designs that would bear comparison with the most elaborate works produced by the goldsmith’s art. Some of these artisans obtained such reputation that their names have descended to us. Jean d’Outremeuse, Jean Delamare, Gautier de Coux, Lambert Patras, were among those who conferred honour on the art of brazier’s work (dinanderie).

From the kitchen to the cellar the distance is usually but short. Our forefathers, who were large consumers, and in their way had a delicate appreciation, of the juice of the vine, understood how to store the barrels which contained their wines in deep and spacious vaults. The cooper’s art, when almost unknown in Italy and Spain, had existed for a long time in France, as is attested by a passage taken from the “Mémoires de l’Académie des Inscriptions:”—“We see by the text of the Salic law that, when an estate changed hands, the new proprietor gave, in the first place, a feast, and the guests were bound to eat, in the presence of witnesses, a plate of boiled minced meat. It is remarked in the ‘Glossaire de Du Cange’ that, among the Saxons and Flemings, the word boden means a round table; because the peasantry used the bottom of a barrel as a table. Tacitus says that for the first meal of the day the Germans had each their own table; that is to say, apparently a full or empty barrel placed on end.”

A statute of Charlemagne alludes to bons barils (bonos barridos). These barrels were made by skilled coopers ([Fig. 9]), who gave all their care to form of staves, hooped either with wood or iron, the casks destined to hold the produce of the vintage. According to an old custom, still in vogue in the south of France, the inside of the wine-skin used to be painted with tar, in order to give a flavour to the wine; to us this would perhaps be nauseous, but at that time it was held in high favour. In alluding to wine-skins, or sewn skins coated with pitch, we may remark that they date from the earliest historic times. They are still employed in countries where wine is carried on pack-animals, and they were much used for journeys. If a traveller was going into a country where he expected to find nothing to drink, he would fasten a wine-skin on the crupper of his horse’s saddle, or, at least, would sling a small leather wine-skin across his shoulder. Etymologists even maintain that from the name of these light wine-skins, outres légères, was derived the old French word bouteille; that, first having been designated bouchiaux, and boutiaux, they finally were named bouties and boutilles. When, in the thirteenth century, the Bishop of Amiens was setting out for the wars, the tanners of his episcopal town were bound to supply him with two leathern bouchiaux—one holding a hogshead, the other twenty-four setiers.

Fig. 9.—A Cooper’s Workshop, drawn and engraved, in the Sixteenth Century, by J. Amman.

Some archæologists maintain that, when there had been a very abundant vintage, the wine was stored in brick-built cisterns, such as are still made in Normandy for cider; or that they were cut out of the solid rock, as we see them sometimes in the south of France; but it is more probable that these ancient cisterns, which are perhaps of an earlier date than the Middle Ages, were more especially intended for the process of fermentation—that is to say, for making wine, and not for storing it; which, indeed, under such unfavourable circumstances, would have been next to impossible.

What light did our ancestors use? History tells us that at first they used lamps with stands, and hanging lamps, in imitation of the Romans; which, however, must not lead us to the conclusion that, even in the remotest times of our annals, the use of fat and wax for such purposes was absolutely unknown. This fact is the less doubtful because, from the time when trade corporations were formed, we find the makers of candles and wax-chandlers

Figs. 10 and 11.—Hanging Lamps of the Ninth Century, from Miniatures in the Bible of Charles the Bald (Bibl. Imp. de Paris).

of Paris governed by certain statutes. As for the lamps, which, as in ancient times, were on stands placed for this purpose in the houses, or were suspended by light chains ([Figs. 10] and [11]), they were made in accordance with the means of those for whom they were intended, and were of baked earth, iron, brass, and gold or silver, all more or less ornamented. Lamps and candlesticks are not unfrequently mentioned in the inventories of the Middle Ages. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, German artisans made torch-holders, flambeaux, and chandeliers in copper, wrought and embellished with representations of all kinds of natural or fantastic objects; and in those days these works of art were much in request. The use of lamps was all but general in the early days of the monarchy; but as the somewhat dim and smoky flame which they furnished did not give sufficient brilliancy to the entertainments and solemn assemblies held in the evening, it became an established custom to add to these lamps the light of resinous torches, which serfs held in their hands. The tragic episode of the Ballet des Ardents, as told by Froissart—which we shall hereafter relate in the chapter on Playing Cards—shows that this custom, which we already see alluded to in Grégoire de Tours, our earliest historian, was in fashion until the reign of Charles VI.

In subjugating the East, the Romans assumed and brought back with them extreme notions of luxury and indolence. Previously their bedsteads were of planks, covered with straw, moss, or dried leaves. They borrowed from Asia those large carved bedsteads, gilt and plated with ivory, whereon were piled cushions of wool and feathers, with counterpanes of the most beautiful furs and of the richest materials.

These customs, like many others, were handed down from the Romans to the Gauls, and from the Gauls to the Franks. With the exception of bed-linen, which came into use much later, we find, from the time of our earliest kings, the various sleeping appliances nearly as they are now—the pillow (auriculare), the foot-coverlet (lorale), the counterpane (culcita), &c. No mention, however, is made of curtains (or courtines).

At a later period, while still retaining their primitive furniture, bedsteads vary in their shapes and dimensions: those of the poor and of the monks are narrow and homely; among kings and nobles they, in process of time, became veritable examples of the joiner’s work, and only to be reached by the aid of stools, or even steps ([Fig. 12]). The guest at a château could not receive any greater honour than to occupy the same bed as the lord of the manor; and the dogs by whom the seigneurs—all great sportsmen—were constantly surrounded had the privilege of reposing where their masters slept. Hence we recognise the object of these gigantic bedsteads, which were sometimes twelve feet in width. If we are to believe the chronicles, the pillows were perfumed with essences and odoriferous waters; this we can understand to have been by no means a useless precaution. We see, in the sixteenth century, Francis I. testifying his great regard for Admiral Bonnivet by occasionally admitting him to share his bed.

Having completed our review of furniture, properly so called, we have now to treat of that which may be termed highly artistic articles of furniture—that is, those on which the workers in wood exercised their highest talents—elevated seats of honour, chairs and arm-chairs, benches and trestles; all of which were frequently ornamented with figures in relief, very elaborately sculptured with a knife (canivet); the bahuts, a kind of chest with either a flat or convex top, resting on feet, and opening on the upper side, whereon were placed stuffed leather cushions ([Fig. 13]); tubs, buffets,

Fig. 12.—Bed furnished with Canopy and Curtains, from a Miniature at the end of the Fourteenth Century. (MS. de la Bibl. Imp. de Paris.)

presses, coffers both large and small, chess-boards, dice-tables, comb-boxes, which have been superseded by our dressing-cases, &c. Many specimens of these various kinds of furniture have descended to our time; and they prove to what a degree of perfection and of elaborate finish the art of cabinet-making and of inlaying had attained in the Middle Ages. Elegance and originality of design in inlaid metals, jasper, mother-of-pearl, ivory; carving, various kinds of veneering, and of stained woods, are all found combined in this description of furniture; some of which was ornamented with extreme delicacy of taste (Plate I.), and still remains inimitable, if not in all the details of execution, at least in rich and harmonious effect.

At the time of the Renaissance, cabinets with numerous drawers and in several compartments were introduced: these were known in Germany by the name of artistic cabinets (armoires artistiques): the sole object of the maker was to combine in one piece of furniture, under the pretext of utility, all the fascination and gorgeous caprices of decorative art.

To the Germans must be awarded the merit of having been the first to distinguish themselves in the manufacture of these magnificent cabinets, or presses; but they soon found rivals in both the French ([Fig. 14]) and Italians ([Fig. 15]), who proved themselves equally skilful and ingenious in the execution of this kind of manufacture.

Fig. 13.—Chest shaped like a Bed, standing in front of a Fireplace, and a Chair with cushions, in carved wood, from Miniatures of the Fifteenth Century. (Bibl. Roy. de Bruxelles.)

The art of working in iron, which can legitimately rank as one of the most notable industries of the Middle Ages, soon came to lend its aid to that of cabinet-making, both in embellishing and giving solidity to its chefs-d’œuvre. The ornamentation of cabinets and coffers was remarkable for the good taste and the high finish displayed in them.

DISTAFF OF WOOD, Turned and Carved. Sixteenth Century. Size of the Original.

In the hands of skilful artisans, of unknown artists dating from the twelfth to the sixteenth century, iron seemed to assume great ductility—indeed, we might say unprecedented submission. Observe, in the gratings of courtyards, in the iron-work of gates, how those lines are interlaced, how attractive are those designs, how those wrought stems are delicately lengthened out, at once strong but light, and finally how they expand with natural grace into leaves, fruits, and symbolic figures.

Fig. 14.—Small Cabinet for Jewels, in carved wood, after the style of Jean Goujon, from the Château d’Ecouen, and which formerly belonged to the Montmorency family. (In the Collection of M. Double.)

Moreover, the workers in metal did not confine themselves to the application of iron on articles already prepared and manufactured by other artisans; they had also to originate and execute, to ornament caskets and reliquaries: but their special art was to manufacture bolts ([Fig. 16]), locks, and keys; examples of this kind of ancient work will always be admired. “Locks,” says M. Jules Labarte, “were at that time carried to such a degree of perfection, that they were considered as veritable objects of art; they were carried from place to place, as would have been done with any other valuable article of furniture. Nothing could be more artistic than the figures in high relief, the armorial bearings, the letterings, the ornaments and the engravings which embellished that portion of the key which the fingers grasp (Fig. 17), and for which we have substituted a common ring.”

Fig. 15.—Cabinet in Damaskeened Iron, inlaid with gold and silver. An Italian work of the Sixteenth Century.

Glass and glazing claim particular notice. It may be said that glass was known in the remotest ages, for Phœnicia and ancient Egypt were, in the time of Moses, renowned for their innumerable productions in vitrified sand. In Rome they cast, cut, and engraved glass—they even worked it with the hammer, if we are to believe Suetonius, who relates that a certain artist had discovered the secret of making glass malleable. This industrial art, which extended and improved under the emperors, found its way to Byzantium, where it flourished during several centuries; until Venice, claiming as she then did a prominent position in the history of the arts, imported the process of the Byzantine method of making glass, and in her turn excelled in this manufacture. Although articles in glass and crystal, painted, enamelled, and engraved, are frequently alluded to in historical and poetical narratives, and also in the inventories of the Middle Ages, we know they were all the result of Greek or Venetian manufacture. In this art France especially seems to have been somewhat late in taking her first artistic step; such

Fig. 16.—Bolt of the Sixteenth Century, with Initial of Henry II.

(In the Castle of Chenonceaux.)

Fig. 17.—Key of the Thirteenth Century, with two Figures of Chimeras, back to back.

(Soltykoff Collection.)

objects as were manufactured for the use of the rich never passed beyond the limits of the rudest art. We should, however, observe that France must have long been acquainted with the art of glazing, for in the middle of the seventh century we find St. Benoît—called Biscop, who built so many churches and convents in England—coming to France in search of workmen for the purpose of glazing the church and the cloisters of his abbey at Canterbury. And it is also mentioned in the chronicles of the Venerable Bede, that the French taught their art to the English glaziers.

Towards the fourteenth century the windows of even the commonest houses were generally glazed; at that date glass manufactories were found in operation everywhere; and although they may not have rivalled in a remarkable degree their predecessors of the Merovingian period, they nevertheless made in large quantities all kinds of articles ordinarily in use, as we can judge by the terms of a charter, dated 1338, by which one Guionnet, in order to have the privilege of establishing a glass factory in the forest of Chambarant, was bound to furnish as an annual due to his seigneur, Humbert, Dauphin of Viennois, one hundred dozen glasses in the shape of a bell, twelve dozen small shallow glasses, twenty dozen goblets, twelve dozen amphoræ, twenty dozen lamps, six dozen candlesticks, one dozen large cups, one large stand (or nef), six dozen dishes without borders, twelve dozen jars, &c.

We have alluded to Venice and the celebrity she attained in the art of working glass. It was especially for the manufacture of mirrors and looking-glasses that this large and industrious city made herself renowned over all the world. If we are to believe Pliny, the Romans purchased their glass mirrors at Sidon, in Phœnicia, where, in the remotest ages, they had been invented. At this time were these mirrors silvered? We must believe that they were, for a plate of glass, without quicksilvering, could never be anything than glass more or less transparent, and would permit of the light passing through, without reflecting objects. But Pliny asserts nothing of the kind; and, moreover, as the practice of using mirrors of polished metal, which was taken from the Romans, was for a long time maintained among modern nations, we may conclude either that the invention of glass mirrors was not a great success, or that the secret of making them was lost. In the thirteenth century an English monk wrote a treatise on optics, in which allusion is made to mirrors lined with lead. Nevertheless, mirrors of silver continued in use among the rich, and of iron and polished steel by the poorer classes, till the time when glass became less expensive, and Venetian looking-glasses were introduced, or cleverly imitated, in all European countries; metal mirrors, which easily became dim, and did not give the natural colour to reflected objects, were then discontinued. At the same time, the elegant shape of the ancient hand-mirrors was retained, the workers in gold and silver still continuing to encircle them with most graceful designs; the only difference being that the surface of polished steel or silver was replaced by a thick and bright piece of Venetian glass, sometimes ornamented with reflected designs produced in the coating of quicksilver ([Fig. 18]).

Fig. 18.—Hand or Pocket Mirror in gold or chased silver, from an Engraving by Etienne Delaune, a celebrated French goldsmith and engraver (Sixteenth Century).

From all these details, the reader will have the gratification of ascertaining at a glance the general effect of furniture in use for domestic purposes; and thus, after the analysis, he will have its opposite. Fig. 19, a reproduction, taken from the “Dictionnaire du Mobilier Français,” by M. Viollet-le-Duc,

Fig. 19.—Dwelling room of a Seigneur of the Fourteenth Century.

represents a dwelling-room of a rich nobleman in the fourteenth century. What we now designate as a bedroom, and which was then called simply cambre or chambre, contained, besides the bed—which was very large—a variety of other furniture in use for the ordinary requirements of daily life; for the time that was not given to business, to out-door amusements, to state receptions, and to meals, was passed, both by nobles and citizens, in this room. In the fourteenth century requirements for comfort had developed themselves in a remarkable degree in France. To be convinced of this, we have only to glance at the inventories, to read the romances and narratives of the day, and to study with some little care the mansions and houses erected in the reign of Charles V. A huge chimney admitted many persons to the fireside. Near the hearth was placed the chaire (seat of honour) of the master or of the mistress. The bed, which usually stood in a corner, surrounded by thick curtains, was effectually screened, and formed what was then called a clotet; that is, a sort of small room enclosed by tapestry. Near the windows were bancals, or benches with backs covered with drapery, on which persons could sit and talk, read, or work, while enjoying the view. A dresser was ranged along one side of the room, and on its shelves were placed pieces of valuable plate, dishes for comfits, and flower-vases. Small stools, arm-chairs, and, especially, numerous cushions were placed here and there in the room. Flemish carpets, and those which were called sarrasinois, covered the floor; this was composed of enamelled tiles; or, in the northern provinces, of thick squares of polished oak. These large, lofty, wainscoted rooms always communicated with private staircases, through dressing-rooms and wardrobes in which were located the domestics in immediate attendance.

Let us now pass from domestic furniture to that used for ecclesiastical purposes. We now leave the palaces of kings, the mansions of nobles, and the dwellings of the rich, and enter the buildings consecrated to worship.

We know that in the early ages of Christianity religious ceremonies were characterised by the greatest simplicity, and that the buildings in which the faithful were wont to assemble were for the most part devoid of any kind of decoration. By degrees, however, rich display entered into churches, and pomp accompanied the exercise of religious worship, especially at the period when Constantine the Great put an end to the era of persecutions and proclaimed himself the protector of the new faith. It is related that among the rich presents which this emperor distributed throughout the Christian temples in Rome, were a golden cross weighing two hundred pounds, patens of the same metal, lamps representing animals, &c. At a later period, in the seventh century, St. Eloi, who was a celebrated goldsmith before he became Bishop of Noyon, gave his whole mind and talents to the manufacture of church ornaments. He enlisted from among the monks of the various monasteries that were subject to his episcopal authority, all those whom he fancied had an aptitude for these works of art; he instructed and directed them himself, and made them excellent artists; he transformed entire monasteries into gold and silver-smiths’ workshops; and numerous remarkable works increased the splendour of the Merovingian basilicas; such, for example, were the shrine of St. Martin of Tours, and the tomb of St. Denis, the marble roof of which was profusely ornamented with gold and precious stones. “The bounty of Charlemagne,” says M. Charles Louandre, “added new riches to the immense wealth already accumulated in the churches. Mosaics, sculpture, the rarest kinds of marble, were lavished on those basilicas for which the emperor evinced partiality; but all these treasures were dispersed by the Norman invasions. From the ninth to the eleventh centuries it would seem that, with the exception of a few shrines and crosses, objects employed for ecclesiastical purposes were not enriched by the addition of anything note-worthy; at any rate, the works of that period and those of anterior date have not been handed down to us, if we except some rare fragments. The reason is, that, independently of the constant causes of destruction, the furniture of churches was renewed towards the end of the eleventh century, when the edifices themselves were rebuilt; and it is only from the date of this mystical Renaissance that we begin to find in the texts precise indications, and in museums or temples perfectly preserved monuments.”

Ecclesiastical appendages include altars, altar-screens, the pulpit, monstrances, chalices, incense-burners, candlesticks or lamps, shrines, reliquaries, basins for containing holy water, and some other objects of lesser relative importance, as crosses, bells, and banner-poles. To these we may add votive offerings, which were generally either of gold or silver.

In the infancy of religious worship the altar took two distinct shapes; sometimes the form of a table, with a top of stone, wood, or metal supported by legs or by columns; sometimes it resembled an ancient tomb, or a long coffer, narrowed at the base, and surmounted by a similar covering, which invariably formed the upper portion, or the table, of the altar.

In addition to altars, more or less monumental, which were fixtures in the churches, and which, from the earliest period, were placed under ciboria (a kind of dais or canopy supported by columns), small portable altars were employed, in order to meet the requirements of the service. They were intended to accompany the bishops, or the ordinary clergy, who had to preach the faith in countries where no churches existed. These altars, which were alluded to when the Christian religion had made but slight progress, were no longer seen after it became general; but we again find them at the time of the Crusades, when pious pilgrims, who journeyed from place to place preaching the Gospel, were obliged to say mass in fields and public places, where the faithful assembled to hear them, and to “take up the cross.” M. Jules Labarte gives the following summary description of a portable altar of the twelfth century:—“It consists of a slab of lumachella marble, set in a box of gilt copper, 36 centimètres in height by 27 in width, and 3 in thickness. The top of the box is cut in such a manner as to leave uncovered the stone on which the chalice was placed during the celebration of mass.”

Throughout all the periods of the Middle Ages, the ardent faith of which seemed to consider sufficient honour could never be rendered to the real presence of God in the holy sacrifice, the ornamentation of the altar was everywhere looked upon as an object of the most extraordinary pomp and of the most elevated artistic taste. Among the marvels of this kind we must name, as occupying a leading place, the gold altar of St. Ambrose, in Milan, which dates from 835, and those of the cathedrals of Basle and Pistoia, which belong to the eleventh and twelfth centuries. These gold altars, wrought with the hammer, were chased and sometimes enamelled, and in addition to remarkably well executed designs in carved work, taken from religious books, they usually also had on them portraits of the donors.

The altars and tabernacles were executed with an equal amount of art and costliness; and from the earliest period of the fabrication or the importation of carpets, embroideries, and gold and silver fabrics, we see them employed for the purpose of covering, adorning, and of rendering more striking and imposing the altar and its accessories, to which the name of chancel was given ([Fig. 20]).

The chalice and the altar-vessels, which date from the very cradle of Christian worship, since without these sacred vases the fundamental services of the religion of Jesus Christ could not have been performed, perhaps owe it to this exceptional fact that they are not spoken of before the eleventh century ([Fig. 21]). In truth, nowhere do we find an indication of their ordinary shape, nor of the mode of their manufacture in early times; but it is reasonable to suppose that the chalice originally was identical, as it was in times approaching nearer to our own, with the goblet of the ancients; or perhaps, to define it more particularly, was the well-known hanap (drinking-cup), the earliest type of which tradition endeavours to trace to so early a date. At a later period, and until the time when the artists of the Renaissance period were called upon to remodel sacred ornaments, and they transformed them into marvels of art on which were lavished all the resources of casting, chasing, and glyptic, we observe that chalices continued to be manufactured with the greatest care, adorned with exquisite elegance, and enriched with all the brilliancy that art can give them.

Fig. 20.—An Altar-cloth embroidered in silver on a black ground, representing the procession of a friar of the Abbey of St. Victor. Fifteenth Century (copied from the original belonging to N. Achille Jubinal).

All that can be said regarding the chalice applies equally to the monstrances and the pyxes employed to contain and to exhibit the consecrated wafers, as also to the censers, which originated in the Jewish form of worship, and which, in accordance with the successive epochs of Christianity, affected different mystical and symbolic shapes ([Fig. 22]). Of these M. Didron gives the following description:—“They were first formed of two open-work spheroids, in cast and chased copper, ornamented with figures of animals and inscriptions.” Originally they were suspended by three chains, which, according to tradition, signified “the union of the body, the soul, and the divinity in Christ.” At another period the censers represented, in miniature, churches and chapels with pointed arches. Again, at the Renaissance, they took the form of that now in use.

Fig. 21.—An Altar-Tray and Chalice, in enamelled gold, supposed to be of the Fourth or Fifth Century, found at Gourdon, near Chalon-sur-Saône, in 1846. (Cabinet des Antiques, Bibl. Imp. de Paris.)

From the first, the lighting of churches was, to a certain extent, carried out on much the same principle as that employed in princely abodes and important mansions. Fixed or movable lamps were used; also wax candles in chandeliers, for the ornamentation of which pious donors and pious artisans, the former paying the latter, vied with each other in skill and liberality. We may here observe that even in the early days of Christianity, numerous candlesticks were generally employed both by day and by night. The candlesticks on the altar represented the apostles surrounding Christ; thus their number ought to be twelve. Placed around the dead, they signified that the Christian finds light beyond the grave. To the faithful they typified the day which shines brightly in celestial Jerusalem.

The worship of relics, established in the early days of the Church, subsequently led to the introduction of shrines and reliquaries, a kind of portable tomb which the disciples of the Gospel devoted to the memory, and in honour, of martyrs and confessors of the faith. Thus from the first, in collecting these holy relics, to which the faithful attached every kind of miraculous powers, they dedicated what, according to ecclesiastical writers, had been the temple of the living God, a gorgeous sanctuary, worthy of so many virtues and miracles. Hence the introduction of shrines into churches, and reliquaries into private houses.

Fig. 22.—Censer of the Eleventh Century, recalling the shape of the Temple of Jerusalem, in copper repoussé. (Formerly in Metz Cathedral, now at Trèves.)

Owing to the care bestowed on some of these by St. Eloi, from the seventh century, they had become real marvels of intrinsic richness and artistic finish. Nevertheless we are unacquainted with the shape which, in accordance with the Christian liturgy, was originally given to the shrines and reliquaries, although the Latin word capsa, from which the word châsse (shrine) is derived, conveys the idea of a kind of box or coffer. Indeed this shape was retained for a long time by the whole of Christendom; but the majority of shrines in gold and silver work which do not date further back than the eleventh or twelfth century represent tombs, chapels, and even cathedrals. This symbolic shape continued in use to the time of the Renaissance, but with successive modifications suggested by the architectural style of each period. We thus see there was no precious material or delicate workmanship which was not employed to contribute in making the shrines and reliquaries more magnificent. Gold, silver, rare marbles, precious stones, were lavished on their construction; the chaser and enameller embellished with figures and emblems, with incidents taken from Holy Writ and from the lives of saints, the shrines in which are deposited their remains.

Figs. 23 and 24.—Stall and Reading-desk in carved wood, from the Church of Aosta (Fifteenth Century).

We know that in the early days of Christianity the rite of baptism was performed by immersion in rivers or in fountains, but at a period nearer to our own time, basins or vessels of various dimensions were placed in a small detached edifice, by the side of the church; into these the neophytes were plunged when receiving the first sacrament. These baptistries disappeared as soon as the practice of sprinkling holy water on the forehead of the catechumen was definitely substituted for that of immersion. Baptismal fonts then became what they now are, that is, a kind of small erection above the level of the floor—piscinas, shells (vasques), or basins, recalling to our minds, though on a reduced scale, the primitive baptistries. They were placed inside the church, either near the entrance, or in one of the side-chapels. At various periods they were made of stone, marble, or bronze; and were ornamented with subjects relating to the rite of baptism. It was the same with the holy-water basins, which, according to ancient custom, were placed at the entrance to the church, and generally assumed the form of a shell, or of a large amphora, when not made simply of a hollowed stone to recall the ancient baptismal vessels.

Fig. 25.—Bas-relief in carved wood, representing a Domestic Scene, from the Stalls called “Miséricordes,” in the Choir of the Cathedral of Rouen (Fifteenth Century).

We must not overlook the altar and procession-crosses, which, as being typical of the divine emblem of the Christian faith, could not fail to become real objects of art even from the time of the catacombs. It would be needless repetition to enumerate here the different materials used in the manufacture of crosses, the various shapes that were given to them, according to the purpose for which they were intended, and the subjects and figures they represented. The sculptor, the modeller, the chaser, the enameller, and even the painter, were associated with the goldsmith in producing most exquisite works of this kind. The art of the wood-carver and that of the worker in iron, which we have seen executing such marvels for household furniture, could not fail to find scope in the manufacture of objects used for religious purposes. It was especially in making pulpits, ornamental screens, wainscoting, and stalls, that the art of the wood-carver became renowned; he was no longer simply an artisan, but became an artist of the highest order. In the ornamentation of railings of choirs and tombs, the iron-work on doors, of bolts, locks, and keys, the remarkable talent of the locksmiths of the Middle Ages was displayed. Let us here remark, that in the early days of worship the pulpit was simply a kind of stool on which the preacher stood in order that his congregation might see him. By degrees the pulpit was raised on supports or columns; and later again, but only towards the end of the fifteenth century, we find it fixed at a great height against one of the central pillars of the church, and usually magnificently carved, as was also the dais, and the sounding-board by which it was surmounted.

To form an idea of the degree of perfection attained in wood-carving from the thirteenth to the fourteenth century, we ought to inspect the stalls of St. Justine, at Padua, those of the cathedrals of Milan and Ulm, the church of Aosta ([Figs. 23] and [24]), &c., and the stalls of the churches of Rodez, Albi, Amiens, Toulouse, and Rouen ([Fig. 25]). And if we would examine a very ancient example of the art attained by workers in iron, we have but to notice the hinges, dating from the thirteenth century, which stretch, in arabesque designs, over the panels of the western door of Notre-Dame, Paris.

Fig. 26.—Design on the Stalls in the Church of St. Benoît-sur-Loire.

TAPESTRY.

Scriptural Origin of Tapestry.—Needlework Embroidery in Ancient Greek and Roman Times.—Altalic Carpets.—Manufacture of Carpets in Cloisters.—Manufactory at Poitiers in the Twelfth Century.—Bayeux Tapestry, named “De la Reine Mathilde.”—Arras Carpets.—Inventory of the Tapestries of Charles V.; enormous Value of these Embroidered Hangings.—Manufactory at Fontainebleau, under Francis I.—The Manufacture of the Hôpital de la Trinité, at Paris.—The Tapestry Workers, Dubourg and Laurent, in the reign of Henry IV.—Factories of Savonnerie and Gobelins.

Let us first open the Bible, the oldest of all historical documents; we read therein of woven fabrics, not only worked on the loom, but also made by hand, that is, richly embroidered in needlework on linen or canvas. These magnificent fabrics, which were laboriously and minutely executed, represented all kinds of designs in relief and in colours; they were used as decorations for the holy temple, and as ornamental garments for the priests who performed the religious ceremonies. Indubitable proof of this is the description, in the book of Exodus, of the curtains surrounding the tabernacle. Some of these embroideries, in the manufacture of which gold and silver thread, combined with dyed wools and silk, was used, were named opus plumarii (work in imitation of bird’s plumage); others—such, for example, as the veil of the Holy of Holies, which represented cherubim in the act of adoration—were called opus artificis (work of the artisan), because they were made by the weaver on the loom; and, with the aid of numerous shuttles, the woof of wools and silks of various hues was introduced.

In the traditions of the magnificent city of Babylon we also find figured tapestry delineating the mysteries of religion, and handing down to us the recollection of historical incidents. “The palace of the kings of Babylon,” says Philostratus, in the “Life of Apollonius of Tyana,” “was ornamented with tapestries in gold and silver tissues, which recorded the Grecian fables of Andromeda, of Orpheus, &c.” The Greek poet Apollonius of Rhodes, who wrote a century before our era, relates in his poem of “The Argonauts” that the women of Babylon excelled in the execution of these gorgeous textures. The famous tapestries which were sold in the time of Metellus Scipio for 800,000 sesterces (about 165,000 francs), and a hundred years later were purchased for the exorbitant sum of two million sesterces (about 412,000 francs) by Nero, to place on his festive couches, were of Babylonian workmanship.

Ancient Egypt, which would seem to have been the early cradle of an advanced civilisation, was also renowned for this marvellous art, the invention of which the Greeks attributed to Minerva, and to which allusion is frequently made in their mythology. Penelope’s web, whereon were delineated the exploits of Ulysses, has remained the most celebrated among them all. It was on a similar web that Philomela, in her prison, illustrated in embroidery the narrative of her misfortunes, after Tereus had cut out her tongue, to prevent her telling her sister Progne the outrage she had suffered at his hands.

Throughout the poems of Homer we find embroidery of this kind either mentioned, or described as made with the needle or loom, and intended for decorative drapery, or as garments for men and women. During the siege of Troy, Helen embroidered, upon a fine tissue, the sanguinary combats of the heroes who were destroying each other for her sake. The cloak of Ulysses represents a dog pulling down a fawn, &c.

The custom of embroidering such scenes as combats and hunting-incidents seems to have lasted during a long time. According to Herodotus, certain races bordering on the Caspian Sea were accustomed to have figures of animals, flowers, and landscapes delineated on their garments. This custom is mentioned among the pagans by Philostratus, and among Christians by Clement of Alexandria. Pliny, the naturalist, who lived in the first century of our era, also alludes to it on several occasions in his works. Three hundred years later, Amasius, Bishop of Amasia, deplores the folly which “set a great value on this art of weaving, a vain and useless art, which by the combination of the warp and woof imitates painting.” “When persons thus dressed appear in the street,” adds the pious bishop, “the passers-by look at them as walking pictures, and the children point at them with their finger. We see lions, panthers, bears, rocks, woods, hunters; the religiously inclined have Christ, his disciples, and his miracles figured on their garments. Here we see the wedding of Cana, and the pitchers of water turned into wine; there we have the paralytic carrying his bed, or the sinner at the feet of Jesus, or Lazarus being raised from the dead.”

We have only to look into the works of the writers of the time of Augustus to learn that the halls in the houses of the wealthy were always hung with tapestry; and that the tables, or rather the beds, upon which the guests were seated, were covered with carpets.

The Attalian carpets, which were thus named because they came from the inheritance bequeathed to the Roman people by Attalus, King of Pergamos, were indescribably magnificent. Cicero, who was a connoisseur in such matters, speaks of them with enthusiasm in his works.

Under Theodosius I., that is to say, at the time of the decline of the great empire which was soon to break up and be separated, and at last to merge into new nationalities, a contemporaneous historian shows us “the youth of Rome engaged in making tapestry-work.”

In the early period of French history, this ingenious and delicate work would seem to have been mainly carried on by women, and especially by those of the highest rank. At any rate it is a fact that rich tapestries were in common use, both in private houses and for ecclesiastical purposes, as early as the sixth century; for Gregory of Tours does not fail to tell us of the embroidered hangings, and also of the tapestry, in most of the ceremonies which he describes. When King Clovis renounced paganism and asked to be baptised, “this intelligence was the greatest joy to the bishop; he orders the sacred fonts to be prepared; the streets overhung with painted cloths; the churches ornamented with hangings.” When the abbey-church of St. Denis had to be consecrated, “its walls are covered with tapestry embroidered in gold and ornamented with pearls.” These tapestries were for a long time preserved in the abbey-treasury. Subsequently, this same treasury received, as a present from Queen Adelaide, the wife of Hugh Capet, “a chasuble, a valance, as also some hangings, worked by her own hand;” and Doublet, the historian of this ancient abbey, states that Queen Bertha (the same whom the old French proverb makes an indefatigable worker with her needle) embroidered on canvas a series of historical subjects, depicting the glorious deeds of the family.

Nevertheless, there is no written authority for asserting that in France the manufacture of tapestries and hangings worked on the loom can be traced beyond the ninth century; but at this period, and a little later, we find some documents which are as precise as they are curious—proving that this industry, the principal object of which, at that period, was the ornamentation of churches, had to a certain extent obtained a footing, and was flourishing in religious establishments. The ancient chronicles of Auxerre relate that St. Anthelm, the bishop of that city, who died in 828, caused to be made, under his own directions, numerous rich carpets for the choir of his church.

One hundred years later we find a regular manufactory established at the monastery of St. Florent, at Saumur. “In the time of the abbot Robert III.,” says the historian of this monastery, “the vestry (fabrique) of the cloister was further enriched by magnificent paintings and pieces of sculpture, accompanied by legends in verse. The above-mentioned abbot, who was passionately devoted to similar works, sought for and purchased a considerable quantity of magnificent ornaments, such as large dorserets[1] in wool, curtains, canopies, hangings, bench-covers, and other ornaments, embroidered with various devices. Among other objects, he caused to be made two pieces of tapestry of large size and of admirable quality, representing elephants; and these two pieces were joined together with a rare kind of silk, by hired workers in tapestry. He also ordered two dorserets in wool to be manufactured. It happened that, during the time one of these was being completed, the above-mentioned abbot went to France. The ecclesiastic left in charge took advantage of his absence to forbid the artisans to work the woof according to the customary method. ‘Well,’ said they, ‘in the absence of our good abbot we will not discontinue our employment; but as you thwart us we shall make quite a different kind of fabric.’ And this now admits of proof. They made several square carpets, representing silver lions upon a field of gules (red), with a white border covered with scarlet animals and birds. This unique piece of workmanship was looked upon as a perfect specimen of this kind of fabric, until the time of the abbot William, when it was considered the most remarkable piece of tapestry belonging to the monastery. In fact, on the occasions of great solemnities the abbot had the elephant tapestry displayed, and one of the priors showed that on which were the lions.”

From the ninth or tenth century there was also a manufactory at Poitiers; and its fabrics, on which figured kings, emperors, and saints, were of European celebrity, as appears to be attested, among other documents, by a remarkable correspondence which took place, in 1025, between an Italian bishop, named Léon, and William IV., Count of Poitou. To understand rightly this correspondence, it must be borne in mind that at the time Poitou was as famous for its mules as for tapestry. In one of his letters, the bishop begs the count to send him a mule and a piece of tapestry, both equally marvellous (mirabiles), and for which he has been asking six years. He promises to pay whatever they may cost. The count, who must have had a facetious disposition, replied, “I cannot, at present, send you what you ask, because for a mule to merit the epithet of marvellous, he would require to have horns, and three tails, or five legs—and this I should not be able to find in our country. I shall therefore content myself with sending you one of the best I can procure. As to the tapestry, I have forgotten the dimensions you desire. Let me have these particulars again, and it will then soon be sent to you.”

But this costly industry was not limited to the French provinces. In the “Chronique des Ducs de Normandie,” written by Dudon, in the eleventh century, it is stated that the English were clever workers in this art; and when designating some magnificent embroidery, or rich tapestry, it was described as of English work (opus Anglicanum). Moreover, the same chronicle relates that the wife of Richard I.,[2] the Duchess Gonnor, assisted by her embroiderers, made hangings of linen and of silk, embellished with images and figures representing the Virgin Mary and the Saints, to decorate the church of Notre Dame, Rouen.

The East, also, which from the earliest times had been renowned for the art of producing beautiful embroidered fabrics, became still more famous during the Middle Ages for those of wool and silk, embroidered with silver and gold. It was from the East were brought the rich stuffs covered all over with emblazonments, and with figures of animals, and probably also embroidered in open-work: these fabrics were called étoffes sculptées, or pleines d’yeux.

The librarian Anastasius, in his book the “Lives of the Popes,” which undoubtedly was written before the eleventh century, gives, when describing church decorations, some curious and circumstantial details regarding the subject we are now discussing. According to him, as early as the time of Charlemagne (eighth century), Pope Leo III. “had a veil made of purple worked in gold, on which was the history of the Nativity and of Simon, having in the centre the Annunciation of the Virgin.” This was to ornament the principal altar of the Holy Mother of God, at Rome. He also ordered for the altar of the church of St. Laurence, “a veil of silk worked in gold, having on it the histories of the Passion of our Saviour and of the Resurrection.” He placed on the altar of St. Peter’s “a veil of purple of a remarkable size, worked in gold and ornamented with precious stones; on one side was seen our Saviour giving St. Peter the power to bind and to loose, on the other the Passion of St. Peter and St. Paul.” In the same book, several other pieces of tapestry are described in such terms that it seems difficult to realise the richness and the beauty of finish of these artistically-worked fabrics, which for the most part came from Asia or Egypt. It was only in the twelfth century, after the return from the first crusades had enabled Western nations to admire and to appropriate to themselves luxuries quite new to them, that the custom of using tapestry, while becoming far more general in churches, found its way also into private dwellings. If, in the cloisters, the monks, in order to find employment, lavished their utmost care on the weaving of wool and of silk, there was the more reason why this occupation should prove pleasing to the noble châtelaines who were confined to their feudal castles. It was then, when surrounded by their tire-women, as in earlier times were the Roman matrons by their slaves, that these fair dames, while listening to the reading of tales of chivalry which deeply interested them, or inspired by a profound faith, gave themselves to the task of reproducing with the needle either the pious legends of the saints or the glorious exploits of warriors. The bare walls, when thus draped with touching incidents or warlike memorials, assumed a peculiar eloquence which doubtless inspired the mind with grand visions, and aroused noble sentiments in the heart.

Among the finest specimens of this kind is one which, owing to its really exquisite character, has escaped what would have seemed inevitable destruction. We allude to the famous Bayeux tapestry called “de la Reine Mathilde” (of the wife of William the Conqueror). This work represents the conquest of England by the Normans. If we are to accept the ancient traditions to which it owes its name, it must date from the last half of the eleventh century.

In these days we may be permitted to doubt, in consequence of the many discussions that have taken place among the learned, if this embroidery is as ancient as was at one time supposed. And although we first find it alluded to in an inventory (prepared in 1476) of the treasury of Bayeux Cathedral, we may venture, with a certain degree of confidence, to believe that it was made in the twelfth century by Englishwomen, who at that time were particularly famous for their needlework; an opinion confirmed by more than one author contemporaneous with William and Matilda.

This tapestry, which is 19 inches in height, by nearly 212 feet in length, is a piece of brown linen, on which are embroidered with the needle, in wool of different colours (and these seem to have lost none of their early freshness), a series of seventy-two groups or subjects, with legends in Latin interspersed with Saxon, embracing the whole history of the Conquest, as related by the chroniclers of the period ([Figs. 27] and [28]).

At the first glance, this embroidery may seem to be but a rudely executed grouping of figures and animals; nevertheless there is character throughout, and the original outline, discoverable beneath the intersections of the wool, is not wanting in a certain accuracy that brings to our mind the vigorous simplicity of the Byzantine style. The decoration of the double border, between which is delineated a drama wherein 530 figures are introduced, is the same as those of the paintings in manuscripts of the Middle Ages. And, in short, failing any exact proof, if we are determined not to deprive this immense work of its traditional antiquity, it might, with much probability, be attributed to a female embroiderer of Queen Matilda, named Leviet, whose skill has rescued her name from oblivion. It may also be well to observe that at the time it is first alluded to in history, this tapestry is found belonging to the very church in which Matilda desired to be buried.

We have already seen (in the chapter on Furniture) that towards the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, under the influence of Eastern habits and

Fig. 27.—A piece of the Bayeux Tapestry, representing the construction of Boats for William (with Border).

customs, the practice of sitting on carpets was established at the court of our kings. From this date rich tapestries were frequently used for making tents for campaigning or for hunting. They were displayed on festive occasions; as, for instance, when princes were entering a town, the object being to hide the bare walls. The dining-halls were hung with magnificent tapestries, giving additional splendour to the interludes (entremets, or intermèdes) performed during the repast. The champions in the lists saw glittering around them, suspended from the galleries, fabrics on which heroic deeds were embroidered. Lastly, the caparison of the charger (the war-horse’s garb of honour) displayed its brilliant emblazonings to the eyes of admiring crowds.

Fig. 28.—A portion of the Bayeux Tapestry, representing two mounted men of Duke William’s army armed from head to foot, and in the act of fighting.

It was moreover the custom that the tapestries made for noblemen should bear their respective armorial devices, the object being, no doubt, that it might be known to whom they belonged when used on the occasion of the entry of royal and other distinguished personages in solemn processions; and also at jousts and tournaments.

In the fourteenth century the manufactories of Flanders, which were of considerable reputation even about the twelfth century, made great advance, and the success of the Arras tapestries became so general that the most handsome hangings were called Arras tapestry, although the greater part of them did not come from that city. It may here be noticed that the term Arrazi is, in Italy, still synonymous with valuable tapestry ([Fig. 29]).

These fabrics were generally worked in wool, and sometimes in flax and linen: but at the same period Florence and Venice, which had imported this industry from the East, wove tapestries wherein gold and silk were blended.

Fig. 29.—Marriage of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany. Tapestry in wool and silk, with a mixture of gold and silver thread. Made in Flanders the end of the Fifteenth Century. (Lent by M. Achille Jubinal.)

An inventory, dated 21st January, 1379, contained in a manuscript now in the “Bibliothèque Impériale,”—in which are enumerated “all the jewels in gold and silver, all the rooms with embroidery and tapestries belonging to Charles V.,”—gives us an idea not only of the multiplicity of hangings and tapestries that appertained to the personal property of royalty, especially at the Hôtel Saint-Pol, but it also shows us the variety

THE ADORATION OF THE MAGI.

Tapestry of Berne of the fifteenth Century

(Communicated by M. Achille Jubinal.)

of subjects therein represented. A few of these pieces of tapestry are still preserved, but among some which have been destroyed or lost we may mention those representing the Passion of our Saviour, the Life of St. Denis, the Life of St. Theseus, and that entitled Goodness and Beauty—all these were of large dimensions. Then again, the tapestry of the Seven Mortal Sins, two pieces of the Nine Bold Knights, that of the ladies hunting and flying (qui volent), in other words, hawking; that of the Wild Men; two of Godfrey de Bouillon; a white tapestry for a chapel, in the centre of which was seen “a compass with a rose,” emblazoned with the arms of France and of Dauphiny, this was three yards square; one large handsome piece of tapestry, “the king has bought, which is worked with gold, representing the Seven Sciences and St. Augustin;” the tapestry of Judith (the queen who subsequently appears on playing-cards); a large piece of Arras cloth, representing the Battles of Judas Maccabæeus and Antiochus; another of “the Battle of the Duke of Aquitaine and of Florence;” a piece of tapestry “whereon are worked the twelve months of the year;” another of “the Fountain of Jouvent” (Jouvence), a large piece of tapestry “covered with azure fleurs-de-lys, which said fleurs-de-lys are mingled with other small yellow fleurs-de-lys, having in the centre a lion, and, at the four corners, beasts holding banners, &c.”—in fact, the list is endless. We must still, however, add to these figured tapestries those with armorial bearings, made for the most part with “Arras thread,” and bearing the arms of France and Behaigne (the latter being those of the queen, daughter of the King of Bohemia). There was also a piece of tapestry “worked with towers, fallow bucks and does, to put over the king’s boat.” The tapestry called velus, or velvet, which now we call moquettes, was as commonly seen as any other kind. There were also to be noticed the Salles d’Angleterre, or the tapestries from that country, which, as we have said, had previously acquired a great celebrity in that art. Among these one was “ynde (blue), with trees and wild men, with wild animals, and castles;” others were vermilion, embroidered with azure, having vignette borders, and in the centre lions, eagles, and leopards.

In addition to these, Charles V. possessed at his castle of Melun many “silken fabrics and tapestries.” At the Louvre one could but admire, among other magnificent pieces of tapestry, “a very lovely green room, ornamented with silk covered with leaves; and representing in the centre a lion, which two queens were in the act of crowning, and a fountain wherein swans were disporting themselves.”

Yet we must not be led away with the idea that it was only the royal palaces which presented such sumptuousness; for it would be easy to enumerate many instances similar to those we have given, by looking over the inventories of the personal property of nobles, or those of the treasuries of certain churches and abbeys. In one place the tapestries represent religious subjects taken from the Bible, the Gospels, or the legends of the saints; in another the subjects are either historical or relating to chivalry, more especially battles or hunting scenes (Fig. 30).

We are thus justified in asserting that the luxury of tapestry was general among the higher classes. An expensive taste it was; because not only does an examination of these marvellous works show us that they could have been purchased only at a very high price, but in old documents we find more than one certain confirmation of this fact. For example, Amaury de Goire, a worker in tapestry, received in 1348, from the Duke of Normandy and Guienne, 492 livres, 3 sous, 9 deniers, for “a woollen cloth,” on which were represented scenes from the Old and New Testaments. In 1368, Huchon Barthélmy, money-changer, received 900 golden francs for a piece of “worked tapestry, representing La Quête de St. Graal (the search for the blood of Christ); and in 1391, the tapestry exhibiting the history of Theseus, to which we have already alluded, was purchased by Charles V. for 1,200 livres; all these sums, considering the period, were really exorbitant.

The sixteenth century, remarkable for the progress and the excellence to which the arts of every kind had attained, gave a renewed impulse to that of tapestry. A manufactory was established by Francis I., at Fontainebleau, where the tapestry was woven in one entire piece, instead of being made up, as had been the practice, of separate pieces matched and sewn together. In this new fabric gold and silver threads were mixed with silk and wool.

When Francis sent for the Primate from Italy, he commissioned him to procure designs for several pieces of tapestry, to be made in the workshops of Fontainebleau. But, while liberally rewarding the Italian or Flemish artists and artisans collected in the dependencies of his château, the king still continued to employ Parisian tapestry-workers; proof of which is to be found in a receipt of the sieurs Miolard and Pasquier, who give an

Fig. 30.—Tapestry representing a Hunting Scene, from the Château d’Effiat. (In the possession of M. Achille Jubinal.)

acknowledgment of having been paid 410 livres tournois, “to begin the purchase of materials and other requisites for a piece of silk tapestry, which the said seigneur had ordered them to make for his coronation, according to the patterns which the said seigneur has had prepared for this purpose, and on which must be represented a Leda, with certain nymphs, satyrs, &c.”

Fig. 31.—The Weaver. Drawn and Engraved by J. Amman.

Henry II. did even more than maintain the establishment at Fontainebleau; in addition he instituted, in compliance with the request of the guardians of the Hôpital de la Trinité, a manufactory of tapestry in Paris, in which the children belonging to the hospital were employed in dyeing wool and silk, and in weaving them in the loom with a high and low warp.

The new manufactory, whether on account of the excellence of its productions, or from influential patronage, obtained so many privileges that the public peace was on several occasions seriously disturbed by the jealousy of the guild of tapestry-workers; an ancient and numerous corporation still possessing great authority and influence.

The manufactory of the Hôpital de la Trinité continued to flourish during the reign of Henry III.; and Sauval, in his “Histoire des Antiquités de

PLAN OF PARIS IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY,

WITH THIS LEGEND:

Mil cinq cents ans quarante et neuf passez
Du déluge: Paris le noble roy
Dix-huitième: fonda en grand arroy
Ville et cité de Paris belle assez
Devant que Rome eust des gens amassez
Six cent cinquante et huit ans comme croy.

TRANSLATION.

One thousand five hundred and forty-nine years after the Deluge, the noble King Paris, the eighteenth of his name, founded with great pomp the fine town and city of Paris, anterior to the foundation of Rome, which took place, as I think, 658 (?) years before Jesus Christ.

PLAN OF PARIS IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.

Beauvais Tapestry (Communicated by M. Achille Jubinal.)

Paris,” informs us that in the following reign it reached its highest point of prosperity. In 1594, Dubourg made in these workshops, from the designs of Lerembert, the beautiful tapestries which, to a date very near our own, decorated the Church of Saint-Merry. Henry IV., says Sauval, hearing this work much spoken of, desired to see it, and was so pleased therewith that he resolved to restore the manufactories in Paris, “which the disorder of preceding reigns had abolished.” He therefore established Laurent, a celebrated tapestry-worker, in the maison professe of the Jesuits, which had remained closed since the trial of Jean Chastel. He allowed one crown a day, and one hundred francs a year, as wages to this skilful artist; his apprentices receiving ten sous a day, and his fellow-workmen twenty-five, thirty, and even forty sous, according to their skill. At a later period Dubourg and Laurent, who had entered into partnership, were both installed in the galleries of the Louvre. Henry IV., following the example of Francis I., brought from Italy skilled workers in gold and in silk. These he lodged in the Hôtel de la Maque, Rue de la Tisseranderie: the special works they made were hangings in fine cloth of gold and silver (frisé).

Fig. 32.—Banner of the Tapestry Workers of Lyons.

Subsequently to the sixteenth century, the tapestries fabricated at the manufactories of the Savonnerie, the Gobelins, and at Beauvais, &c., although more perfect as regards the weaving, and therefore presenting greater regularity of design and a better comprehension of colour and perspective, unfortunately lost the original simplicity which characterized them in olden times. Approaching the reign of Louis XIV., under the influence of the school of Le Brun,[3] they affected an imitation of Greek and Roman forms, which seem out of place in France. Handsome countenances are the result, out accompanied by meaningless figures; the frankness of truth gives place to staid coldness, the ideal usurps the place of nature, conventionality that of spontaneity. We find them ingenious, pretty, and even beautiful productions, but wanting character, the real soul of works of art.

CERAMIC ART.

Pottery Workshops in the Gallo-Romano Period.—Ceramic Art disappears for several Centuries in Gaul: is again found in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries.—Probable Influence of Arabian Art in Spain.—Origin of Majolica.—Luca della Robbia and his Successors.—Enamelled Tiles in France, dating from the Twelfth Century.—The Italian Manufactories of Faenza, Rimini, Pesaro, &c.—Beauvais Pottery.—Invention and Works of Bernard Palissy; his History; his Chefs-d’œuvre.—The Faïence of Thouars, called “Henri II.”

Nevertheless, it is certain that at the Gallo-Romano period—that is to say, when the Romans, having made themselves masters of that country, had introduced their customs and their industry—Gaul possessed numerous and considerable pottery workshops, which produced vessels and vases of all kinds. Maintaining the ancient forms and processes of manufacture, these factories continued to furnish, till about the sixth century, amphoræ, basins, cups on stems, dishes, plates, and bottles. They were made, with the aid of the potter’s wheel, of grey, yellow, or brown clay. Some of the finest quality were covered with a brilliant varnish, resembling red sealing-wax both in colour and appearance; and these articles were often ornamented with much care and delicacy. We find vases surrounded with garlands of leaves, cups embellished with figures of men and animals; these are so many proofs that this was a manufacture to which the influence of art was by no means unknown.

Yet it is also evident that this industry—one of a sufficiently elevated kind—nearly disappeared about the period of the invasions and wars amidst the tumult of which French monarchy had its birth; and there remained but the simple art that provided for ordinary requirements an assemblage of articles rude and devoid of character.

It must be remembered, however, that the ceramic art which had flourished in the West merely migrated, instead of becoming extinct; and it found, like so many other arts, a new country in that Byzantium destined to be the sanctuary of ancient magnificence. Whatever may be the reason, ceramic art disappeared from the soil of France during a long period; and it is still a question what was the real origin of its revival. Did it revive of itself, or was it under the influence of example? Did it owe its resuscitation to any immigration of artisans, or to the importation of some process of manufacture? These questions still remain unanswered.

Fig. 33.—Vases of ancient shape, represented in the decorative sculpture of the Church of St. Benoît, Paris. (Twelfth Century.)

The ceramic art, which perhaps we somewhat wrongly style modern, is characterized by the use of enamel, or overlaying articles with a glaze having a metallic basis; this the fire of the oven vitrifies; it is a process of which the ancients were entirely ignorant.

But, in searching the tombs that belonged to the ancient abbey of Jumièges (in Normandy), and which date from the year 1120, there have been found fragments of pottery of a fine but porous clay, covered with a glazing somewhat similar to that now used.

Moreover, we read in a chronicle of the ancient province of Alsace, that in the year 1283 “died a potter of Schelestadt, who was the first to cover earthen vessels with glass.”

But we also know that at the time when these isolated attempts were being carried out in France, the Persians and Armenians had long before discovered the art of making magnificent enamelled ware for covering the exterior of their monuments; and that the Arabs settled in Spain produced wonderful examples of painted and enamelled earthenware, with which they decorated and furnished those palaces whose grand ruins are still to us like the fairy visions of a dream or of enchantment. The vases of the Alhambra, types of an art as original as it was singularly ingenious, claim, and doubtless will always claim, the admiration of minds that can appreciate the beautiful in whatever form it may present itself.

Fig. 34.—Vases of ancient form, represented in the decorative sculptures of the Church of St. Benoît, Paris. (Twelfth Century.)

And now, are we to suppose that the intercourse between nations and the transactions of commerce must necessarily have made western Europe acquainted with the enamelled dishes of Asia, or the chefs-d’œuvre of the African race in Spain? Or, on the other hand, shall we say that it was by a spontaneous effort of invention that our forefathers opened up the road to a new domain of art? In the one case we have the opinion, deservedly respected, of Scaliger, who affirms the fact, apparently very significant, that during the Middle Ages there existed in the Balearic Islands manufactories of pottery of Arab origin; our learned author even adds, that in accordance with the most probable etymology, the name of Majolica, which was first given to Italian ware (the earliest in the European revival of the ceramic art), was derived from Majorca, the largest, as we know, of the Balearic Islands, in which locality the principal manufactory of these pottery wares was situated. But, on the other hand, a comparative examination of Arab and Italian wares excludes all idea not only of affiliation, but even of imitation or reminiscence between them.

In the face of such contradictory coincidence, if we may say so, it would be as difficult as it would be rash to pronounce an opinion; we consider it better, while disregarding problematical indications, to boldly face a train of facts now determined by historical proof.

“At the commencement of the fifteenth century”—we cannot do better than borrow from M. Jacquemart a passage which he himself took from the Italian work by Passeri, on Majolica (Pesaro, 1838, in 8vo.)—“Luca della Robbia, the son of Simone di Marro, apprenticed himself to a Florentine goldsmith, Leonardo, the son of Giovanni; but disliking the confinement of a laboratory, he soon became a pupil of the sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti, who made the gates of the Baptistry at Florence. His rapid progress under so able a master placed him in a position, when he could not have been more than fifteen years old, to undertake the task of ornamenting a chapel for Sigismond Malatesta, at Rimini. Two years later, Pietro di Medici, who was having an organ erected in Santa-Maria dei Fiori, at Florence, directed Luca to execute some marble sculptures in that church. The fame which he gained by these works drew everybody’s attention to the young sculptor. Orders reached him in such numbers that he clearly saw the impossibility of executing them in marble or in bronze; added to this, he bore with impatience the restraint imposed by working with such rigid materials, of which the laborious handling trammelled the flights of his imagination. Soft and plastic clay was a material far better suited to his readiness of conception. At the same time, Luca dreamt of the future, and of glory; and thus having in view the object of executing works which, though less perishable, might be rapidly executed, he devoted all his efforts to discover a coating which would give to clay the polish and the hardness of marble. After many trials, a varnish made of tin (étain), which was white, opaque, and of a resisting nature, furnished him with the result he hoped for. The art of producing fine earthenware was discovered, which first received the name of vitrified clay (terra invetriata).

“Luca’s enamel was a most perfect white; he first used it alone for figures, in semi-relief, which were raised on a blue background. At a later period he ventured to colour his figures, and Pietro di Medici was one of the first who encouraged this kind of work for the decoration of palaces. The fame of this novel art spread with rapidity; all the churches were anxious to possess some specimen of the master, so that Luca was soon compelled to associate with himself his two brothers Ottaviano and Agostino, in order to keep pace with the requirements of the public. He endeavoured, nevertheless, to extend the application of his discovery by painting flowers and groups of figures on a smooth surface; but in the year 1430 death cut short his remarkable career, and stayed, in the hands of the inventor, the progress of enamelled pottery ([Fig. 35]).

Fig. 35.—Enamelled Terra-cotta, by Luca della Robbia.

“The family of Luca, however, made public the secret of his discovery. His two nephews, Luca and Andrea, produced some figures and designs of singular merit in terra-cotta. Luca ornamented the floor of the Loggia of Raphael. Girolumo, a relative of Luca, come to France, where he decorated the château of Madrid, in the neighbourhood of Paris. Two females, Lisabetta and Speranza, added to the renown of the family Della Robbia.”

Such is the history of the revival, or rather of the creation, of ceramic art in Italy, as briefly recorded by a man thoroughly acquainted with the subject. An ancient author, and, moreover, a competent writer, instances some monuments of an earlier date; among others a tomb at Bologna, in which were tiles covered with a green and yellow varnish, and vessels (écuelles) of the same kind inserted in the façades or porticoes of the churches of Pesaro and the abbey of Pomposa. But to the honour of Luca della Robbia it may be remarked, that these specimens of an earlier industry differed essentially from his productions; because the glazing that covered them, the basis of which was lead, was so transparent, that through it could be seen either the clay or the colours underneath; whereas the enamel discovered by Luca, the basis of which was tin, had, on the contrary, for its essential character, an opacity which may be termed intense. Let us observe, moreover, that in order to embellish his productions with paintings, Luca was accustomed to apply colours to the first and general coating, which became fixed by a subsequent process of baking.

It is by recognising the distinction we have just laid down between these two processes, that the productions of Italian ceramic art are ordinarily classified: the demi-majolica, with transparent glaze, somewhat like the Spanish-Arabian pottery, and also, perhaps, like Asiatic tiles; then the majolica, by which we understand fine earthenware, where the clay is covered with a coating of opaque varnish, distinguishing the invention due to Luca della Robbia.

Having given priority of invention to Luca della Robbia, it is as well, nevertheless, here to state, that from the eleventh and twelfth centuries there existed in France a kind of ceramic art employed especially in the manufacture of varnished pottery-tiles. Many, of baked clay, have been found with drawings and designs in black or brown on a white or yellow ground (Plate IV.). At a later period these tiles, of which we see such brilliant specimens in the small pictures in manuscripts, especially in those

PAVING TILES OF THE FOURTEENTH AND FIFTEENTH CENTURIES.

of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, were embellished with designs, emblems, armorial bearings, and scrolls. As already stated, in the passage from the author whom we have taken as our guide, the impulse which Luca della Robbia gave to ceramic art extended itself with rapidity in every direction; and if any other reason were wanting, beyond the intrinsic value of this art, to account for its development, we should say that the circumstances in the midst of which Luca made his discovery were eminently favourable to its advancement.

Luxurious display was, at that time, prominent among the classes who aspired to ostentation. When writing of furniture, we saw to what a pitch of splendid profusion kings, princes, and nobles carried the mania for displaying their wealth. We particularly pointed out sideboards in the dining-rooms, covered with plate and all kinds of objects, which were only placed there to dazzle the eyes. The custom of these displays having been introduced, it could nevertheless be only indulged in by those in possession of considerable fortunes, and therefore it will be readily understood how quickly fashion affected the productions of ceramic art; which, in addition to being recognised as works of art, were singularly well suited, both in character and by their comparative cheapness, to the spirit of ostentation which had taken possession of people of inferior rank. It was sufficient that some piece of majolica should have found a place on the sideboard of a prince amidst the gold and the silver which hitherto had alone enjoyed this privilege, for the lower ranks of the bourgeoisie and the tiers-état to adopt the fashion, in their dining-rooms, of decorating them either with majolica alone, or associated with plate.

And admitting this fact, that the productions of ceramic art were thus allowed to find admittance, and, as it were, in some measure an equally distinguished position, amidst plate and objects of precious metals, it resulted that this new industry, supported by the best artists, soon became remarkable for works which were at the same time most beautiful and original.

As something new in history, we find simple pieces of pottery—to give them their generic name—passing as valuable offerings among the great, and employed on very many occasions to denote ardent admiration in the world of courtly gallantry. It is thus we have handed down to us, principally on cups by renowned masters, portraits of the beauties who in those times adorned the ranks of the nobility: the Dianas, the Francescas, the Lucias, the Proserpines, whom their admirers caused to be portrayed in order to offer them their own likenesses.

It was at Florence, about the year 1410, that Luca della Robbia first introduced his invention; but as soon as the process became known, the greater part of the towns of Italy, especially those of Tuscany, established manufactories, among which a remarkable rivalry soon arose: Pesaro, Gubbio, Urbino, Faenza, Rimini, Bologna, Ravenna, Ferrara, Citta Castellana, Bassano, Venice, emulated each other, and almost all succeeded in giving, as it were, an individual character to their productions.

Pesaro—the place were the earliest workshops of ornamental pottery in Italy were seated, and the processes of which (derived from Luca della Robbia) seem to have blended with the ancient Spanish, or Majorquaises—presents to us a design of a rather harsh and stiff character. “The outlines of figures,” adds M. Jacquemart, “are drawn in manganese black, the flesh is the colour of the enamel, and the drapery alone is of uniform tint.”

It was at Pesaro that the celebrated Lanfranco flourished. The ceramic museum of Sèvres has two of his pieces: it was he who invented the method of applying gold to earthenware, at a time when the early processes of ornamenting this manufacture had ceased to be employed, and had given place to delicate paintings, which, although no longer executed by the most renowned artists of Italy, were nevertheless the work of intelligent pupils who had received the benefit of their teaching and example.

The manufactory at Gubbio had for its founder Giorgio Andreoli, who, both as a sculptor and an artist in majolica, executed works as remarkable in form as in effect. “The palette of mineral colours adopted by Andreoli was the most perfect of the period; and coppery yellows, ruby reds, are frequently used in his works.” There are still extant some works signed by this master (a title officially conferred on him by a patent of nobility); one is a slab in the Sèvres collection, and another a tablet representing the Holy Family.

Urbino—of which the dukes, especially Guidobaldo II., signalized themselves as the most zealous patrons of ceramic art—became famous through the works of Francesco Xanto, who executed historical subjects on enamelled clay. Xanto had as a successor Orazio Fontana, who has been named “the Raphael of Majolica,” and who produced, among other magnificent objects, some vases which, when subsequently seen by Christina of Sweden, so impressed her by their beauty that she offered to exchange for them silver vases of equal size.

It was at the manufactory of Deruta that imaginative subjects on majolica were first introduced; Bassano was famous for its landscapes with ruins; Venice became celebrated for delicate ware with repoussé reliefs; Faenza is still proud of her Guido Salvaggio; Florence of her Flaminio Fontana, &c.

Majolica attained to its highest point of brilliancy under the Duke of Urbino whom we have already named, Guidobaldo II., who was ever ready to make any sacrifice in order that this art might be introduced into the manufactories under his patronage. He even obtained from Raphael and Giulio Romano some original drawings to serve as examples; and this feeling having once been inculcated, we soon find artists of renown, such as Batista Franco and Raphael del Colle, tendering their services for the ornamentation of majolica. Thus the productions of this period are distinguishable among all others for harmony of composition and accurate drawing, qualities which render them specially noteworthy (Fig. 36). Then, almost immediately, followed the decline of this art. While flourishing more and more until the middle of the sixteenth century, the art of making majolica had fallen, at the termination of that epoch, into a kind of degenerate industry, swayed by the caprice of fashion, and thereby reduced to mannerism.

Nearly at the commencement of the renovation of ceramic art, Italian artisans had established themselves in various places, which then became so many artistic centres. Eastern Europe had for its earliest instructors three brothers, Giovanni, Tiseo, and Lazio, who settled at Corfu. Flanders was indebted for the knowledge of these processes to Guido of Savino, who took up his abode at Antwerp. And about the year 1520 we find a manufactory at Nuremberg, of which the ware, though materially differing in character from Italian majolica, may still very probably have been derived from Italy.

We may add that letters of the King of France mention that from 1456 there were certain revenues derivable from the “Beauvais Potteries;” and in the twenty-seventh chapter of the first book of “Pantagruel,” published in 1535, Rabelais places among the various articles composing the trophy of Panurge, “a saucer, a salt-cellar of clay, and a Beauvais goblet;” which proves, as M. de Sommerard remarks, “that as early as this date, there were manufactured in this city vessels of clay sufficiently good in quality to be placed on the table with silver and pewter utensils;” but it does not naturally follow that France had not long to wait for the man of genius who would soon leave her nothing to covet from Italy.

Fig. 36.—Cup, Italian Ware. In the Collection of Baron Alph. Rothschild. Taken from MM. Carle Delange and C. Borneman’s work.

About the year 1510, in a small village in Périgord, a child was born who, after receiving the rudiments of education, was obliged while still quite young to try to gain a livelihood by his own industry. This child’s name was Bernard Palissy. He first learnt the trade of a glazier, or rather of a glass-fitter and painter. This trade, while it initiated him into the principles of drawing, and gave him a certain insight into chemical manipulations, at the same time aroused in him a taste for art and the study of natural sciences. While “painting figures in order to gain his daily bread,” as he himself tells us in one of the works he has left behind him, and which gives us the highest opinion of his simple yet energetic nature, he applied himself to the study of the true principles of art in the works of the great Italian painters—the only artists then in repute. Owing to various circumstances the trade of glazier proving unprofitable, he at once began the study of geometry, and soon obtained credit, in the part of the country wherein he dwelt, as “a clever draughtsman of plans.” Such comparatively mechanical labour as this could not long suffice for the active vigour of a mind thirsting after progress and discovery. Moreover, Palissy, while employed on his calling as a land-surveyor, had never ceased to give close observation to the structure and composition of geological strata. With the purpose of dispelling the doubts in his mind, and also with the object of obtaining substantial confirmation regarding the system he had already originated, he began to travel. The result of his journeyings was the inauguration of a theory which, after having long been contemptuously rejected by the learned, was nevertheless destined to form the foundation of principles which are now considered as the basis of modern geological science.