If the various works of useful and ornamental art discovered in the
sepulchres of nations long since fallen into oblivion, were of no
other value, at the present day, than merely to be applied to the
purposes which they were originally intended to subserve; if they did
not elucidate the manners, customs, and progressional refinement of
men with passions and feelings similar to our own; the labour and
expense incurred by their exhumation would be thrown away. It is not,
then, for the intrinsic value of the specimens to be produced, neither
is it for any very particular admiration of the 'good old times,' but
to exhibit and illustrate a very general and exceedingly active phase
of our ancestors' minds, that, turning over the refuse materials of
history, we proceed to disinter, from their worm-eaten pages, the dead
and almost forgotten art of Device--an art that once claimed an
extensive literature, and canons of criticism, peculiarly its own.
From about 250 to 400 years ago, were the high and palmy days of this
'dainty art.' Then, the learned and subtile schoolmen of the age did
not disdain to write upon it, with ink scarcely dry upon the pens with
which they had been discussing the most abstruse dogmas of theology;
then, not unfrequently, the cureless curate, by the concoction of a
happy device for a generous patron, found himself a beneficed bishop.
Nor is such preferment to be wondered at. The qualifications
considered necessary to constitute a device-maker, were fully equal to
those which Imlac described to Rasselas as requisite to form a poet.
'Philosophy and poetry,' wrote Père le Moyne, 'history and fable, all
that is taught in colleges, all that is learned in the world, are
condensed and epitomised in this great pursuit; in short, if there be
an art which requires an all-accomplished workman, that art is
device-making.' Ruscelli says: 'It belongs only to the most exquisite
wits and best-refined judgments to undertake the making of devices.'
Yet, though the learned doctors of Padua, Wirtemberg, and the
Sorbonne, engaged in deep disquisitions on the emblematical
properties, natural and mythical, of cranes and crescents, sunflowers
and salamanders, pelicans and porcupines--the length and language of
mottoes--how the wind should be pictorially portrayed, with many other
equally weighty considerations, still the chivalrous knights of the
tournay, and the fair ladies of their _devoirs_, attained proficiency
in the art. Wolf of Wolfrath, the lute-player, records, that at a
grand tournament held at Vienna in 1560, crowns of laurel were awarded
to the knights who wore the wittiest devices, as well as to those who
excelled in feats of arms.
'But,' the reader very probably exclaims, 'what was this art of
device?'
It consisted in translating an idea into a symbol, and illustrating
that symbol by a tersely-expressed motto. 'The object of a device,'
according to the Lord of Fossez, 'was to express covertly, by means of
a picture and words, a conception of human wit;' and it was
distinguished from an emblem, inasmuch as the emblem demonstrated
something universal, whereas the device was peculiarly appropriate to
the person who wore it. The old writers glory in its antiquity, citing
many instances of its having been known and used by both Greeks and
Romans. Even during the dark ages it was not entirely lost; it merely
slumbered until the _renaissance_, and the invasions of Italy under
Charles VIII. and Louis XII., when it awoke to a vigorous existence.
Thus, though of much greater antiquity than heraldic blazonry, which
only dates from the time of the Crusades, it was not hereditary, could
be adopted or changed at pleasure, and did not define the rank of the
wearer. Shakspeare, who well understood the nature of the device,
distinguishes between it and armorial bearings in the passage where
Bolingbroke recounts his injuries:
'Disparked my parks, and felled my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my household coat,[4]
Razed out my impress'----
The old heralds, however, looked upon the device with but little
favour. Camden sneeringly says, that 'Armes were most usual among the
nobility in wars till about some hundred years since, when the French
and Italians, in the expedition of Naples, beganne to leave armes,
haply for that many of them had none, and to bear the curtaines of
their mistresses' beddes, their mistresses' colours, as impresses in
their banners, shields, and caparisons.' Daniel, one of our earliest
English writers on the subject, is worth quoting for a definition of
the impress, and to shew the exclusive spirit of the age. He says:
'_Impresa_, used of the Italians for an enterprise taken in hand, with
a firm and constant intent to bring the same to effect. As if a prince
or captaine taking in hand some enterprise of war, or any other
perticulaire affaire, desirous by some figure and motto to manifest to
the world his intent, this figure and motto together is called an
impress, made to signify an enterprise, whereat a noble mind levelling
with the aime of a deep desire, strives with a steely intent to game
the prize of his purpose. For the valiant and hautie gentlemen,
disdayning to conjoine with the vile and base plebeians in any
rustique invention, have procured to themselves this one most
singulare.'
Paul Jovius, a celebrated Italian historian and bishop, in his
treatise on devices, says, that the figure or emblem, which he terms
the _body_ of the device, must be exactly fitted to the motto, which
he terms its _soul_; and though it should not be so obscure as to
require a sibyl to explain it, yet the motto ought to be in a foreign
or dead language, so that it may not be comprehended by the
vulgar--'such dainties not being intended for vulgar appetites.' The
human figure, also, should never be introduced into the emblem, and
the motto ought not to contain more than three or four words. These
rules, however, were not strictly adhered to, even by Jovius himself.
The treatise is written in the form of a dialogue between the bishop
and his secretary; its gossipping manner, quaint style, and the great
importance attributed to the subject-matter, remind us exceedingly of
the _Complete Angler_ of our old English friend Izaak Walton. As an
example of a perfect device, Jovius mentions one worn in the Italian
wars by Antonio Colonna, the friend of Michael Angelo. It represented
a branch of palm laid across a branch of cypress, with the motto,
_Erit altera merces_ (There will be another reward.) Another, highly
praised by the old device-writers 'for being of subtle invention, and
singular in outward view,' was assumed by a Spanish knight, Don Diego
Mendoza, to signify the slight encouragement he received from the fair
lady who was mistress of his affections. It represented a well, with a
circular machine for raising water, full buckets ascending and empty
ones going down, the motto, _Los llenos de dolor, y los vazios de
esperanza_ (The full one is grief; the empty, hope.) By the way, we
find a similar figure in _Richard II._, where the unfortunate monarch
says:
'Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owns two buckets, filling one another--
The emptier ever dancing in the air,
The other down, unseen, and full of water:
That bucket down and full of tears am I,
Drinking my grief while you mount up on high.'
Jovius also warmly commends a device worn by Edward Stuart, Lord of
Albany, a famous captain of tried valour in the French army, during
their Italian campaigns. Of the blood-royal of Scotland, being cousin
to James IV., he wore, as his arms, a lion rampant in a field argent;
and as his device, a buckle, with the motto, _Distantia jungit_;
'thereby implying that he was the bond which held united the kings of
France and Scotland, to countervail the forces of their natural enemy,
the king of England.'
A quaint bit of romance, in connection with a lady's device, is
perhaps worthy of notice. Hippolita Fioramonda excelled all the ladies
of her day in beauty and courtesy, and wore, as her device, moths,
embroidered in gold, on a sky-blue robe--a warning to the amorous not
to approach too closely the light of her beauty, lest, like moths
attracted by a lamp, they should be burned. There being no motto, one
of her admirers, the Lord of Lesui, a brave knight, famous for his
horsemanship, asked her for an explanation of such a singular and
imperfect device. She replied: 'It is to use the like courtesy to
gentlemen who call to see me, as you do to those who ride in your
company; you being accustomed to put on the tail of your horse a small
rattle, to make him more fierce in kicking, so as to warn any who may
approach you of the danger of his heels, thereby causing them to keep
aloof.' Notwithstanding this repulse, the knight persevered, though
unsuccessfully, in his suit, until he fell mortally wounded at the
battle of Pavia. Then the lady Fioramonda relenting, had him sought
for on the sanguinary field, and carried to her own house, where, to
his great contentment, he died in her arms. Such imperfect devices,
however, were considered unworthy of the name, unfit for men of
gravity, and suited but to make sport with ladies. Of this description
was that of Augustine Porco, a gentleman of Verona, who, being in love
with a lady named Bianca, wore in his scarlet cap a small, real, white
wax-candle, and perseveringly followed the lady to every place of
public resort she visited. To the inquiries of his friends respecting
this extraordinary device, he merely replied, that it signified
_Candela bianca_ (A white candle), and, consequently, doubts were
entertained of the eccentric gallant's sanity. At last, though love is
proverbially blind, the lady--probably she had a prompter--discovered
that the true meaning was _Can de la Bianca_ (The dog of Bianca), and
with her hand rewarded the ingenuity and perseverance of Signor Porco.
Through devices we obtain glimpses at the morals, as well as the
manners, of a foreign people and a bygone age. The amorous devices of
many ecclesiastical dignitaries afford a capital reason for the rule,
that the motto should not be comprehensible 'by the vulgar.' That of
Cardinal Medici, who loved the lady Julian Gonzago, was a comet
surrounded by stars, the motto, _Micat inter omnes_ (It shines among
them all), from the lines of Horace:
Micat inter omnes Julium sidus
Velut inter ignes luna minores.
The allusion to the star of Julius in connection with the lady's name
renders this device, in our opinion, rather neat and classical.
A still more startling sign of the times is exhibited by the
device-loving bishop. He relates that one Mattei, a man of noble
courage, when waiting with dissimulation and patience an opportunity
to murder a person by whom he had been insulted, applied to him
(Jovius) for an appropriate device; and the bishop, 'wishing to shew
that a noble mind has power to _digest_, with time, every grievous
injury,' designed an ostrich devouring a nail, with the motto,
_Spiritus durissima conquit_. Mattei wore the device, and ultimately
succeeded in assassinating his victim; and 'so much was this noble
revenge commended,' that the pope promoted the ruffian to be captain
of his guard--the family of the murdered man signing an agreement to
cancel all future quarrels.
Great care was requisite, when framing a device, lest any part of it
could be turned into ridicule by a witty or spiteful enemy. Charles
the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, bore a flint and steel, with the motto,
_Ante ferit quam flamma micet_ (As he strikes, the fire flashes); and
when defeated, and slain at the battle of Nancy, the day being cold,
with snow on the ground, his triumphant enemy, the Duke of Loreno,
said: 'This poor man, though he has great need to warm himself, has
not leisure to use his tinder-box.'
However puerile the 'art' may appear to us now, there can be little
doubt, that the construction of devices, as an incentive to the
acquisition of general knowledge, and as a kind of mental training,
was not altogether useless in its day, and formed a link, were it ever
so slender, in the development of the human mind. Estienne, a noted
French device-author, observes, that 'to express the conceptions of
our own mind in the most perfect device, there is nothing so proper,
so _gentile_, so powerful, or so witty, as the similitudes we discover
when walking in the spacious fields of Nature's wonderful secrets; for
the grace of a device, as well as the skill of him who makes it,
consists in discovering the correspondence of natural qualities and
artificial uses with our own thoughts and intentions.'
The old scholastic logic was freely employed in the arguments by which
the device-authors advanced their own opinions, or attacked those of
their contemporaries. Ammirato condemns the unphilosophical definition
of Jovius--that the emblem is the body, and the motto, the soul of a
device. With long, and, we must acknowledge, to us at least, not very
intelligible argument, he maintains, that 'the motto is the _major_
part of a syllogism, and the emblem the _minor_; from the conjunction
of which the conclusion is drawn.' Unprofitable and uninteresting are
these discussions. We shall, in preference, mention the canons of
device-criticism, which were of most general prevalence.
Comparison was considered an essential property of a perfect device.
Thus the Pillars of Hercules, with the motto, _Plus ultra_ (More
beyond), adopted by Charles V., in allusion to the Spanish discoveries
and conquests in America, and still to be seen on the coin of that
nation, was, by the connoisseurs, termed a mere conceit. The scholar's
two pens, with _His ad aethera_ (By these fame), being also devoid of
comparison, was equally inferior. Not more than three figures were
permissible in the emblem, unless the greater number were of the same
species. A device portraying an elephant, with a flock of sheep
grazing quietly around, the motto, _Infestus infestis_ (Hostile only
to the wicked), was strictly correct, as the sheep, being all of one
species, were recognised merely as one figure. Metaphor was not
allowed in the motto: a device faulty in this respect, represented a
ball of crystal, the motto, from Plautus, _Intus et in cute_ (The same
within and without); crystal being devoid of skin (_cutis_), the
expression was metaphorical. The introduction of negatives into the
motto was considered good: as a sundial, with _Ne aspiciatur non
aspicitur_ (Unless looked upon--by the sun--it is not esteemed, or is
of no use), a good device for a king's favourite; a flame of fire,
with _Nunquam deorsum_ (Never downwards); a gourd floating on a
stream, with _Jactor non mergor_ (Abandoned, but not sunk.) When the
motto was taken from a well-known classic, fewer words were required:
thus in a device representing a flame blown upon by the wind, with
_Lenis alit flammas, grandior aura necat_ (A gentle wind nourishes
flame, a stronger, extinguishes), the words, _grandior necat_ (a
stronger, extinguishes) would have been sufficient. Nice
discrimination was required in selecting the most suitable language
for a motto. According to Contile, the Spanish was most suitable for
love-matters; the Italian, for pleasant conceits; the Greek, for
fiction; and the Latin, for majesty. Household furniture, and
implements of husbandry, were considered improper subjects for the
emblem of a device; consequently, that of the Academia della Crusca
was set down as decidedly vulgar, it being a sieve, with _Il piu bel
fior ne coglie_ (It collects the finest flour of it)--a play on the
word _crusca_ (bran), assumed as the title of the Academy, from its
having been instituted for the express purpose of purifying (sifting)
the Italian language.
Objects that were not recognisable unless painted in colours, were
also inadmissible; thus the otherwise clever device of the Earl of
Essex--a rough diamond, with the motto, _Dum formas minuis_ (In
fashioning, you diminish), came under the censure of the critics. In
like manner, objects not easily distinguishable from others, were
liable to the same condemnation. The celebrated device assumed by Mary
Queen of Scots on the death of her first husband, Francis II.,
representing a liquorice-plant, with _Dulce meum terra tegit_ (The
earth covers my sweet), was pronounced faulty, because the
liquorice-plant could not be readily distinguished from other shrubs,
the roots of which wanted the property of sweetness so necessary to
give point to the device. Unnatural or chimerical figures could not be
admitted, excepting those to which tradition or classical authors had
given fixed forms and attributes--as the mermaid, harpy, phoenix;
consequently, a device representing a winged tortoise, the motto,
_Amor addidit_ (Love has added them), was improper. Qualities ascribed
to animate or inanimate bodies by the ancients, were considered
legitimate, though known by the moderns to be fictitious. Thus the
dolphin, from the story of Arion, appears in devices as the friend of
the distressed; the salamander, living in fire, typifies the strong
passions, natural, yet destructive to their victim; the young stork,
carrying the old one, illustrates filial piety; the crane, which,
according to Pliny, holds a stone in its claw to avert sleep, is a fit
emblem of watchfulness; the pomegranate, king of fruits, wears a regal
crown; the crocodile, symbol of hypocrisy, sheds deceitful tears. In
short, almost everything that was in the heavens above, in the earth
beneath, and in the waters under the earth, was seized by the
device-maker, and converted into a symbol of some virtue, vice, or
other quality of the mind. Nor was there only one emblem taken from
each object; by varying the circumstances, they were multiplied to an
enormous amount. Menestrier gives no less than 514 different devices,
founded upon the properties of the sun alone.
Though devices previous to the reign of Henry VIII. were seldom worn
in England, yet the insignia of the order of the Garter, instituted in
1350, in connection with its well-known motto and assumed origin, may
be considered a genuine device. The next earliest we meet with was
worn by Henry IV., and represented a blazing beacon, the motto, _Une
sans plus_ (One alone.) This motto has been termed inappropriate; but,
considering that beacons were always placed at considerable distances
from each other--one sufficing for a considerable district--we may
conclude that the usurping Henry implied, that there was only one king
in England, and that one was himself. Richard Duke of York, when he
took up arms against Henry VI., assumed, as his device, a sun, partly
visible only through thick clouds, with the motto, _Invitis nubibus_
(Obscured by clouds.) After his death, his son Edward, in consequence
of the success of the Yorkist cause, changed this device to a full sun
unobscured. This was the sun of York so frequently alluded to by
Shakspeare, and such a stumbling-block to his commentators. Henry
VIII., on the occasion of his visiting Francis I. at the field of the
Cloth of Gold, wore an English archer, dressed in Lincoln green,
drawing his arrow to the head, the motto, _Cui adhereo præest_ (He
whom I aid, conquers); a very significant intimation to Charles V. and
Francis, both of whom were anxious for Henry's alliance against each
other. Ann Boleyn wore a white-crowned falcon standing on a golden
stem, from which sprouted red and white roses, with the motto, _Mihi
et meae_ (To me and mine.) This device of the fair and unfortunate Ann
has survived to the present day. Now, emblematical of her fall, as it
was once of her high station, it is degraded to be the sign of an
ale-house, and known to the village topers as the _Magpie and Stump_!
'The gentle Surrey of the deathless lay,' one of the last victims of
the tyrant Henry, wore a broken pillar, with the motto, _Sat super
est_ (Enough remains.) One of the charges brought against him, when
arraigned for high treason, was for wearing this very device. Mary,
when she ascended the throne, wore a representation of Time drawing
Truth out of a well, with the words, _Veritas temporis filia_ (Truth
is the daughter of Time); and Cardinal Pole wore a serpent surrounding
the terrestrial globe, with the motto, _Estote prudentes_ (Be ye
cunning.) Both of those devices were very significant of the period
and of their wearers.
The romantic amusements of Queen Elizabeth raised the device to the
highest pinnacle of importance it ever possessed in this country,
Hentzner, a German traveller, who visited the palace of Whitehall in
1598, says, that he saw in her majesty's bedroom 'a variety of devices
on paper, cut in the shape of shields, with mottoes, used by the
nobility at tilts and tournaments, hung up there for a memorial.' As
to Elizabeth herself, Camden states, that the enumeration of the
various devices worn by her would fill a large volume. The generality,
however, of the devices of that reign were fulsome flatteries,
allusive to the Maiden Queen; such as--the moon, with the words, _Quid
sine te coelum?_ (What would Heaven be without thee?) or, Venus seated
on a cloud, with, _Salva, me Domina!_ (Save me, O lady!) The best of
the time was worn by the impetuous and ill-starred Essex, to signify
his grief on one of the occasions when he had lost the queen's favour.
It represented merely a sable field, surrounded by the words. _Par
nulla figura dolori_ (Grief cannot be painted.) The 'English Bayard,'
Sir Philip Sidney, does not appear to great advantage in his devices.
One, we presume intended to shew the steadfastness of his purpose,
represented the tideless Caspian Sea, the motto, _Sine refluxa_
(Without ebb.) Another of 'that famous soldier, scholar, and poet,'
throws a curious light on the manners of the age. Camden tells us that
Sir Philip, 'who was a long time heir-apparent to the Earl of
Leicester (his uncle), after the earl had a son born to him, used at
the next tilt-day following the motto, _Speravi_ (I had hoped), with a
dash across the word, thereby signifying that his hope was dashed.'
Would any gentleman now thus publicly express his disappointment at
such an event?
The pedantry of the first James was almost as favourable to devices as
the pageantry of Elizabeth; but the days of chivalry, the glories of
the _triumph_ and the tilt-yard, were fast passing away, while the new
arts of wood and copper-plate engraving were rising into eminence; and
consequently devices, instead of being worn singly on the shields and
trappings of knights and maskers, were soon found collected, and
seasoned with poetry on the pages of printed books. These books of
emblems, as they were termed, are by no means uninteresting; haply, at
a future time, we may have an opportunity of referring to them. The
early printers, we should observe, were the first who used devices on
paper, each having a distinguishing emblem and motto, which they
displayed on the title-pages of their works. We read of only one
device worn by James; it represented the Scottish thistle united with
red and white roses, the motto, _Rosas Henricus, regna Jacobus_,
implying that as Henry united roses, James united kingdoms. Though
foreign to our subject, we may mention here, as it is not generally
known, that it was James who removed the red dragon of the Tudors from
the royal arms, placing as a supporter in its stead the unicorn of
Scotland. We meet with only one device of the unfortunate Charles. It
represented a snake that had just cast its skin, the motto, _Paratior_
(More ready.) During the civil war, many mottoes and figures were
adopted by both the royalist and parliamentary parties, but few of
them can be termed regular devices. With the Restoration, a new
description of court amusement came into fashion, and the device soon
became a prey to 'dull forgetfulness.' Many emblems, however, were
then and subsequently assumed as crests, and a great number of mottoes
were taken to point the moral, if any, of heraldic blazonry. Though
repudiated and unrecognised by the strict herald, they are now
generally considered to be the particular property and distinguishing
ensign of certain surnames and families, and as hereditary as the
quaint and fanciful charges and quarterings of coat-armour itself.