CHAPTER VII.

ART INDUSTRIES IN THE NUNNERY.

‘Spernere mundum, spernere nullum, spernere sese,

Spernere sperni se, quatuor haec bona sunt.’ _Herrad._

§ 1. Art Industries generally.

From consideration of the nuns of different orders we turn to enquire more

closely into the general occupations and productive capacities of nuns

during early Christian times and the Middle Ages. It seems worth while

collecting the information scattered here and there on the work done by

these women, since the grouping together of various notices gives some,

though necessarily an incomplete, idea of the pursuits to which nuns were

devoted when not engaged in religious service. The work done, as we shall

see, includes art productions of every kind, weaving, embroidery, painting

and illuminating as well as writing, which during the period under

consideration must be looked upon as an art.

From the first monastic life had been dominated by the idea that idleness

is at the root of all evil. In a well ordered religious house the times

for work and for leisure, for eating, sleeping and for attendance at

divine service were fixed by custom and were enforced by routine; we shall

treat later of the way in which the day was divided by the canonical

hours. The purpose of the ordinary settlement, beyond observing the hours,

was to educate girls, to train novices and to provide suitable occupation

for the nuns of the convent. In all houses reading and copying books of

devotion was included among the occupations, and in some, the cultivation

of art in one or more of its branches. Between the 8th and the 14th

century religious settlements were the centres of production in

handicrafts and in art industry; to study the art of this period, it is

necessary to study the productions of the monasteries.

A sense of joint ownership united the members of each of the religious

settlements, and this was especially true of the older Benedictine houses

which have fitly been likened to small republics. To the convent inmate

the monastery was the centre of his interests and affections, and the

house’s possessions were in a sense his own. He was proud of them and

proud if he could add to their store. Increased communication with the

south and the east brought books, materials and other beautiful objects

which the inmates of the religious settlement zealously copied and

multiplied. During times of political and social unrest, while states were

in their making, the goldsmith, the scribe, the illuminator, and the

embroiderer, all found protection and leisure in the religious house. The

so-called dark ages, the centuries between 800 and 1200, cease to be dark

as soon as one enquires into the contents of monastic libraries, and the

monotony of convent routine ceases to appear monotonous on entering one of

the old treasuries and reflecting on the aims and aspirations which were

devoted to producing this wealth in design and ornamentation, the bare

fragmentary remains of which are to us of to-day a source of unending

delight and wonder.

Some of the houses ruled by women like so many of those ruled by men

became important centres of culture, where the industrial arts were

cultivated, and where books were prized, stored and multiplied. Nuns as

well as monks were busy transcribing manuscripts, a task as absorbing as

it was laborious, for the difficulties in the way of learning to write can

hardly be overestimated considering the awkwardness of writing materials

and the labour involved in fabricating parchment, ink and pigment. But as

the old writer with a play on the words _armarium_, book-case, and

_armatorium_, armoury, remarks, ‘a monastery without its book-case is what

a castle is without its armoury.’ And all houses, whether for monks or

nuns, took rank as centres of culture in proportion to their wealth in

books.

Of the books over which the early scribe spent so much time and trouble,

comparatively speaking only a few survive. All books are worn out by use,

especially books of devotion; many were destroyed when printing came in

and parchment was handy to the book-binder; many when the Reformation

destroyed convents. The early scribe usually omitted to add his name to

the book he was copying. In the books which are preserved the names of men

scribes are few, and the names of women scribes fewer still, though they

do occasionally occur. Wattenbach, a student of manuscripts and of the

mediæval art of writing, has collected a number of names of women whom he

has found mentioned as scribes. He gives them, adding the remark that

other books no doubt were written by nuns where mention of the fact is

omitted[602].

It will be profitable to recall these names and examine the references to

work done by nuns as calligraphists and miniature painters, for here and

there women attained great proficiency in these arts. The amount of

writing done in women’s houses compared with that done by men was no doubt

small, for it was not in this direction that the industry of the nun lay.

But what remains shows that where scope to activity was given talents of

no mean kind were developed.

In some departments of art industry, especially in weaving church

hangings, and embroidering altar cloths and church vestments, nuns greatly

distinguished themselves. In his comprehensive work on church furniture

Bock is eloquent on the industry of nuns. He first praises their early

proficiency in the art of weaving and passes on to the art of embroidery.

‘This art also,’ he says, ‘was chiefly cultivated in religious houses by

pious nuns up to the 12th century. The inmates of women’s establishments

were especially devoted to working decorations for the altar. Their

peaceful seclusion was spent in prayer and in doing embroidery. What work

could seem worthier and nobler than artistic work intended for the

decoration of the altar? It is in the nunnery that the art of design as

well as the technique of weaving were brought to their highest

perfection[603].’

Owing to the perishable material of this work the amount which was done of

course far exceeded what has been preserved. We often come across remarks

on such work, rarely across remains of it, and we are obliged to take on

trust the praise bestowed by early writers as so little exists by which we

can judge for ourselves. But enough remains to bear out the praise which

contemporaries bestow on the beauties of hangings and vestments

manufactured by nuns, and to give us the highest opinion of their industry

and their artistic skill.

Among women generally embroidery has always had votaries, and in the

nunnery it found a new development. During early Christian ages nuns

worked large hangings for decorating the basilica walls, and short

hangings for the square altar; and when the Gothic style took the place of

the earlier Byzantine in architecture, rendering such hangings

superfluous, they devoted their energies to working church vestments and

furniture.

The proficiency acquired by the girl in the convent was not lost if she

returned to the world. We hear a good deal of badges and standards worked

by ladies at baronial courts during the age of romance, and their work was

no doubt influenced by what had been evolved in church decoration.

In studying the art industry of the convent, we needs must treat of work

produced with the brush and the pen side by side with work produced with

the needle. At two periods in history, the 8th and 13th centuries, England

takes the lead in art industry, and at both periods there is reference to

excellent work done by nuns.

A former chapter has mentioned how Eadburg, the friend of Boniface, was at

work in her monastery in Thanet in the 8th century, transcribing

scriptural writings on parchment in gold lettering, an art in which she

excelled[604]. Among the gifts sent to Boniface by lady abbesses in

England vestments and altar-cloths are mentioned which had without a doubt

been worked in the houses over which these ladies presided if not actually

made by themselves[605].

The importance and the symbolical meaning which early Christians attached

to death supplies the reason why the abbess of Repton in Mercia sent a

winding-sheet to St Guthlac during his lifetime[606]. Cuthberht of

Lindisfarne was wrapped in a shroud which his friend Aelflaed, abbess of

Whitby, had sent[607]. Both were of linen, for early Christians, who were

content to wear rough woollen clothes during their lifetime, thought it

permissible to be buried in linen and silk. Thus we read that Aethelthrith

the abbess of Ely sent to Cuthberht a present of silk stuffs which she

decorated with gold and jewels and which were shown at his resting-place

at Durham till the 12th century[608]. The silk robe on which the body of

Wilfrith († 709) had been laid was sent as a present to an abbess

Cynethrith[609].

About this time silk, which had been rarely seen north of the Alps, was

frequently sent from the east and was greatly prized. It has been

mentioned in a previous chapter how Radegund at Poitiers received a gift

of silk from a relation in Constantinople[610], and among the charges

brought by the turbulent Chrodield against the abbess Leubover was that

she had appropriated part of an altar-cloth to make a robe for her niece.

Caesarius of Arles in his rule for women forbade their working embroidery

except for purposes of church decoration. Repeated complaints were made

during the early ages in England against nuns for wearing embroidery and

silks. The council of Cloveshoe of the year 747 censures the undue

attention given to dress. ‘Time shall be devoted more to reading books and

to chanting psalms than to weaving and decorating (plectendis) clothes

with various colours in unprofitable richness[611].’ But to control the

standard of clothes remained a standing difficulty in all convents, and

especially in those of women[612].

Apart from personal decoration the arts of weaving and embroidering were

encouraged in every way. ‘Towards the 10th century the art of making large

hangings had so far progressed in England,’ says Bock, ‘that large scenes

with many figures were represented[613].’

Inside the cloister and out of it the art flourished, and the mention of

gifts of hangings becomes frequent. Thus Ealdhelm in his ‘Praise of

Virginity’ (c. 7) speaks of hangings made by the nuns, while reference is

made to secular women at the time of the Conquest who did remarkable work.

Among them were Alwid and Liwid who practised the air of embroidery and

taught it[614]. Emma, otherwise Aelfgifu († 1052), after her marriage to

King Knut, made a gift of hangings and vestments to the abbey of Ely, some

of which were embroidered with gold and jewels on silk, others of green

and purple colour were of such splendour that their like could not be

found elsewhere in England[615]. Again, Aelflaed, the wife of Edward the

Confessor († 1066), made hangings with pictures of the apostles for

Frithstan of Winchester.

‘We know,’ says Michel in his work on silk and the use of it in

embroidery[616], ‘that the women of England, long before the Conquest,

worked assiduously at weaving and embroidering, and that they were as

distinguished in this branch of art as men were in others.’ Unfortunately

no specimens of the work done in religious settlements during this early

period have been preserved, so far as I am aware. We do not know what

artist designed and executed the famous Bayeux tapestry which is worked in

woollen cross-stitch on a strip of linen; but it was certainly not the

work of nuns.

The references to weaving and embroidering during the later period are

fewer, but a certain amount of the work done in England has been

preserved, though the clue as to where and by whom it was done is

generally wanting. While weaving and embroidery were throughout important

branches of home industry, art-needlework seems to have owed its higher

development to nuns.

In connection with the prioress Christina of Mergate we hear that she had

worked three mitres and several pairs of sandals in wonderful work (operis

mirifici) as a present for Pope Hadrian IV († 1159), who was of English

origin, and perhaps known to her. Her work was carried to Rome by the

abbot of St Albans, who had affronted Hadrian in early days and wished to

propitiate him; we hear that the Pope was so delighted with the work that

he could not refuse the present[617].

England was, indeed, at this time famous for its embroidery, and her

products were much admired abroad. In the words of Prof. Middleton:

‘Another minor branch of art, in which England during the 13th century far

surpassed the rest of the world, was the art of embroidering delicate

pictures in silk, especially for ecclesiastical vestments. The most famous

embroidered vestments now preserved in various places in Italy are the

handiwork of English embroiderers between 1250 and 1300, though their

authorship is not as a rule recognized by their present possessors. The

embroidered miniatures on these marvellous pieces of needlework resemble

closely in style the illuminations in fine Anglo-Norman manuscripts of the

13th century and in many cases have obviously been copied from manuscript

miniatures[618].’

A conclusion to be possibly drawn from this is that some of the early work

which has come back to this country from Italy may in reality be English.

There is no doubt it is curiously like the work done in England[619]. In a

footnote to the above passage Prof. Middleton points out that the Popes of

the period, on sending the pall to a newly elected English archbishop,

suggested that they would like in return embroidered vestments of English

work, ‘opus anglicum,’ a term at one time applied to work done in a

special style[620]. Its peculiarity seems to have consisted in the working

of figures in coloured floss silk on a piece of material, generally linen;

on this the silk was worked in close-lying chain stitches, which,

following the contours of face and drapery, entirely covered the material

just as the strokes of a brush in a miniature cover the parchment. The

background to these figures was also covered with coloured floss silk, but

this was not worked in chain stitch but in various styles of straight

close-lying stitches in diaper pattern. Prof. Middleton, in the passage

quoted above, says that the embroiderer copied the miniature painter; in

composing scenes and arranging figures this would of course be the case.

But considering the styles of some of the backgrounds, it seems possible

that in his turn the miniature painter borrowed from the embroiderer, by

taking the idea of filling up the background to his figures with lines and

diagonal patterns, which lines and patterns had been suggested to the

embroiderer by the texture of the stuff he was covering. Gold and silver

threads were liberally used in the ‘opus anglicum[621],’ and even jewels

may have been introduced[622]. The general effect was that of a shining,

glossy picture, and the care and industry needed to produce it exceeded

even that required in miniatures.

The English monk Matthew Paris († 1259) describes an incident illustrating

at once the excellence of the embroidery done in England and the rapacity

of Pope Innocent IV. The Pope he tells us was struck by the splendour of

the embroidery worn by the English clergy who came to Rome in the year

1246, and asked where it was made. ‘In England,’ he was told. He replied,

‘England is really a storehouse of delight; truly it is an inexhaustible

fountain, and where there is so much, much can be taken.’ And he sent

letters to the abbots of the Cistercian houses in England, ordering them

to forward to him gold embroidery of this kind, ‘as though they could

get it for nothing.’ Curiously enough it was supplied to them by London

merchants[623].

A certain number of pieces of early English embroidery now form part of

the collection of art-needlework on view at South Kensington. Among them

is a cope, nine feet seven by four feet eight; it is considered a splendid

example of the ‘opus anglicum,’ and as is suggested ‘may have been worked

by the nuns of some convent which stood in or near Coventry[624].’ There

was no nunnery in Coventry in the Middle Ages, the nearest nunnery of

importance would be the one at Wroxhall. ‘This handsome cope,’ says Dr

Rock, ‘so very remarkable on account of its comparative perfect

preservation, is one of the most beautiful among the several liturgic

vestments of the olden period anywhere to be now found in

Christendom[625].’ It is made of linen entirely covered with embroidery in

floss silk. The space is divided up into barbed interlacing quatrefoils,

of which in the present state of the cope there are fifteen. These enclose

pictures representing Michael overcoming Satan, the Crucifixion, the risen

Christ, Christ crowned as King, Christ in the garden, the death of the

Virgin, her burial, and single figures of the apostles which are placed in

the quatrefoils along the lower edge of the cope. Among them are St

Philip, St Bartholomew, St Peter and St Andrew. Other pictures of the

apostles are wanting, for the lower edge in some places is cut away. The

faces, hands and coloured draperies of these figures are worked in

coloured floss silk in the way described above, and the background of all

the quatrefoils is in diaper pattern, worked in short straight stitches in

a dark green colour. The spaces between the quatrefoils were filled with

crimson silk which has faded to a rich brown, and in each of these spaces

stands a winged angel, those nearest Christ standing on a wheel. Their

faces and draperies are worked in similar style to those of the other

figures, and the dividing bands which mark off the quatrefoils are worked

in a variety of stitches; sometimes loose threads are laid on and sewn

over, sometimes gold thread is worked in. In spite of many colours having

faded the effect of the work is splendid; no textile fabric of any period

exceeds it in evenness and finish, to say nothing of beauty of design.

The edge of the cope in one place is mended by cutting and sewing

together. A band of embroidery which represents a succession of armorial

bearings worked in small cross-stitch is carried right round it. This band

is considered to be fifty years later in date than the cope, and is

somewhat different in style. Its addition suggests that some accident

happened to the cope, perhaps by fire, and that a piece had to be cut away

and a new finish given to the edge.

At the time of the dissolution this cope was in the possession of the nuns

of Sion, a house founded under peculiar circumstances as late as the 15th

century. Its inmates left England in a body and carried the cope away with

them in their wanderings. They finally settled at Lisbon, where the house

continued to be recruited by English women. At the beginning of this

century they returned to England, and the cope was acquired by the Museum

authorities.

In looking at this piece of work it is distressing to think of the way in

which the property of monasteries in England was appropriated, scattered,

and destroyed at the dissolution. In no European country was the heirloom

of mediæval art so uniformly effaced and defaced. The old inventories give

some idea of the art treasures that had accumulated in monasteries in the

course of centuries, but very few fragments were saved from the rapacity

of Henry VIII and his agents.

From England we pass to Germany to consider the remains of decorative work

done by nuns in various departments of art between the 8th and the 14th

centuries. Influence from two sides gave a new direction to art-industry;

on one side was the influence of Roman art due to contact with France; on

the other the influence of Byzantine art due to intercourse with the East.

A high standard of work was soon attained in France; and at Bourges, early

in the 7th century, we hear of the abbess Eustadiola making many gifts to

her settlement, vases of gold and silver ornamented with jewels, crosses,

candelabra and chalices. ‘Also she made holy vestments,’ says her

biographer[626], ‘and decked the altar with costly hangings which with her

own hands and through the help of her women she embellished with

embroidery and with gold fringes; besides the hangings with which she

decorated the walls.’

This active interest spread from France into the convents of the Low

Countries during the 8th century, in one of which the sisters Harlind and

Reinhild did excellent work, which is highly praised. They were

contemporaries of Boniface and Willibrord, who visited and consecrated

them in their settlement at Maaseyck.

There is extant an account, written between 850 and 880, of the education

they received and the work to which they were devoted[627]. We learn from

this account that Harlind and Reinhild showed a serious disposition at a

youthful age, and that their parents were persuaded to send them to the

religious house for women at Valenciennes on the river Schelde, where, in

the words of the 9th century writer, ‘they were instructed in reading, in

chanting (modulatione), in singing the psalms and also in what now-a-days

is deemed wonderful, in writing and in painting (scribendo atque

pingendo), a task laborious even to men. Likewise they were carefully

trained in every department of work such as is done by women’s hands, in

various designs, in different styles; so that they attained a high

standard of excellence in spinning, weaving, designing, sewing, and

embroidering with gold and jewels on silk[627].’

When their education was finished the girls returned to their parents, but

they found no scope for their energies at home and decided to devote

themselves to religion. Their parents agreed to found a settlement for

them at Maaseyck, where at first they had twelve women with them. But many

noble as well as freeborn girls placed a black veil on their heads, as the

biographer says, and came to them hoping to be taken into the settlement.

We hardly need to be told that these gifted sisters abhorred idleness and

were devoted to work. Their energies were given to weaving, embroidering

and writing. Among other things they had woven with their own hands short

curtains, intended no doubt for the altar, which were splendidly

embroidered with a variety of designs[628]. These, in the words of their

biographer, ‘the holy women embroidered with God and his saints ornate

with gold and jewels, and left them behind them in their house. The four

gospels, which contain the words and actions of Jesus Christ our Lord,

they transcribed with commendable zeal. Likewise a book of psalms, such as

we call a psalter, they worked (stylo texuerunt), as well as many other

holy writings, which to this day remain in that same place, and are

resplendent in new and shining gold, and glowing with jewels, so that the

work might almost have been done to-day.’

Thus writes the 9th century chronicler. It seems from a remark made by

Stadler that some of the vestments they made were sent as a present to

Boniface, and samples of their work, it is not stated of what kind, are

preserved to this day in the little church of Maaseyck[629].

A previous chapter has dealt with the rapid development of women’s houses

in Saxony in the 10th and 11th centuries. References to the encouragement

of art in these convents are numerous; they became storehouses of wealth,

partly through gifts bestowed on them by their abbesses and partly owing

to the industry of the nuns. The marriage of Otto II with a Greek princess

brought Greek decorative work into fashion, and workmen came from Greece

into Germany, where they were patronised by bishops and lady abbesses.

Thus at Essen, one of the great Saxon abbacies for women, the art treasury

to this day contains the celebrated bronze candelabra made at the command

of the abbess Mathilde († 1011)[630], and a golden crucifix of Greek

workmanship of great beauty which, as its inscription says, was the gift

of the abbess Theofanu (1039-1054)[631]. This abbess was the granddaughter

of Otto II and his Greek wife, and her appointment to the abbacy marks a

great advance in the prosperity of the house. The treasury at Essen also

contains a Bible cover carved in ivory, which represents the abbess

Theofanu depositing a book at the feet of the Virgin[632].

An account of the great power and wealth of the abbey at Quedlinburg has

already been given. Its treasury (zither) still contains many interesting

specimens of early art industry collected in the days of its

prosperity[633]. The splendid cloak worked with figures from the

Apocalypse belonging to Otto III was probably made under the direction of

his aunt Mathilde, abbess of Quedlinburg († 999). Somewhat later we hear

of another sumptuous cloak which the Empress Kunigund († 1040) had made

for her husband Heinrich II, and of the wonderful embroidery done in gold

on purple by Heinrich’s sister Gisela († 1037), the wife of Stephen, king

of Hungary, which seems to have been embroidered in imitation of a

painting on stuff preserved at a Benedictine convent near Raab. To the

present day this embroidery forms part of the Hungarian coronation

robes[634]. It is not directly stated where this work was made, but the

general excellence of the work done by nuns[635], and the connection of

Saxon princesses with convents, suggest the possibility that the work was

done in convents.

One of these Saxon princesses, Hedwig († 994), sister of the abbess

Gerberg and duchess of Swabia, gave the monks of St Gallen some vestments

which she had embroidered herself[636]. Among them was a white stole

(stola) on which were worked in gold a series of pictures representing the

‘Marriage of Philology to Mercury,’ a subject taken from a story by

Martianus Capella, a writer of the 5th century, whose works were much read

in nunneries. The story was afterwards translated into German by Notker (†

1022), a monk of St Gallen.

A peculiar interest attaches to Agnes, abbess of Quedlinburg (1184-1203).

She encouraged art industry in all its branches and under her the nuns

made large curtains for church decoration. Some of these are still in

existence, and Kugler, the art student, considers them as of great value

in the study of the art industry of that period. Agnes herself wrote an

account of the property she bequeathed to the monastery, and in it she

mentions a golden cup, several silken covers (dorsalia), and

hangings[637]. Her chronicler credits her with writing and illuminating

with her own hands books for divine service; and a copy of the gospels,

said to have been written by her, is still preserved[638]. But the great

work of her life was the manufacture of wall-hangings, which she and her

nuns worked together. One set was intended for the Pope, but was never

forwarded to him. Like the vestments made by Hedwig, the subject taken for

them was the ‘Marriage of Philology to Mercury.’

One curtain still exists measuring twenty-four feet by twenty; it is of a

coarse woollen material, into which large figures are woven, which Kugler

thinks must have been designed by two different hands. ‘While some of the

work,’ he says[639], ‘is in no way superior to other pictorial

representations of the time, and only here and there in details shows

superior skill, other parts though retaining the peculiar style of

Byzantine art, show a grace and dignity in the arrangement of the figures,

and a perfection in the drawing of drapery, which in works of such an

early period arouse admiration in the beholder.’ In his handbook on

painting Kugler further says that we probably have in them the nearest

approach of the art of the time to full perfection.

In describing the curtain he tells us of a manly bearded figure with

raised hand, probably intended for the writer Martianus himself; near him

stands Mercury half covered by a well-draped toga, a very youthful figure

in accordance with the author’s description. These and other figures hold

scrolls on which their names are woven, but owing to the worn state of the

hanging some of the names are gone and some are illegible. Three female

figures are designated as ‘Manticen,’--whom Mercury would have married had

she not preferred Apollo; ‘Sichem,’--a name standing for Psyche, whom

Cupid had already enticed away according to Martianus; and ‘Sophia,’--whom

Mercury likewise desired to marry but in vain. All these figures are

described by Kugler as splendid, especially that of ‘Sichem’ whose pose

and drapery he pronounces most beautiful.

A crowned figure of a man comes next, with a scroll bearing the words

‘happy in wealth’ (qua felix copia talis), whom Kugler supposes to be

Hymenaeus, and a man and woman joining hands, who are designated as

Mercury and Philology. Similar allegorical figures fill the other parts of

the curtain. In Kugler’s estimation the figures of ‘Prudentia’ and

‘Fortitudo’ are strikingly grand; while others, ‘Justitia,’ ‘Temperantia,’

and ‘Philologia’ with her mother ‘Pronesis,’ are of inferior design.

There is another set of hangings preserved at Halberstadt, which, if the

remark of an early chronicler may be believed, was also the work of the

abbess Agnes and her nuns[640]. Kugler however, apparently unacquainted

with this statement, places these hangings at a somewhat earlier date,

since they are of less finished workmanship, but he admits that ‘in spite

of their faded colours and their roughness of design, a certain severe

dignity cannot be denied to these figures which with wide-open eyes stare

at the beholder[641].’

We have a description of these curtains from Büsching, who travelled in

quest of monastic treasures in the beginning of this century[642]. They

measure three-and-a-half by fifteen feet. On the centre piece a king

(God?) is represented on a throne, with one hand raised, the other holding

a sceptre; Cato and Seneca, each bearing a written scroll, sit on either

side. Next to them come six apostles, sitting two and two under a canopy,

each bearing a scroll with his name--another instance of how readily art

in the 12th century grouped together figures of Christian and classical

origin, where it was an object to unite the conceptions of religion and

philosophy; then Christ, pictured under a rainbow arch, which is supported

by angels. On Christ’s further side come the other six apostles similarly

arranged, and then follow scenes illustrating Old Testament history, such

as Jacob’s dream; Abraham visited by angels; the sacrifice of Isaac;--in

these scenes the figures are comparatively small and of inferior design to

the larger ones. Judging from Büsching’s description, the style of the

tapestry is the same as that of the manuscript illustrations of the time.

The background is uniformly of one colour, and the contours of the figures

and their draperies are in thick brown outline, the intervening spaces

being filled with different colours. Kugler compares the pictorial effect

of these hangings with that of the miniatures contemporaneously painted in

the abbey of Hohenburg under the abbess Herrad, of whose work we shall

speak presently. They recall the dignified and somewhat sombre character

of Byzantine art.

There is plenty of information from the Continent to show that nuns

belonging to houses of different religious orders were equally industrious

at the loom and with the needle.

Thus at Göss, formerly a Benedictine nunnery near Loeben in Steier, the

church still treasures a complete set of vestments, ‘ornatus integer,’

worked by the nuns between 1275 and 1300 during the rule of ‘abbatissa

Chunegundis.’ Bock describes them as most curious and beautiful, worked on

linen with coloured silks in a design of fantastic animals and

flowers[643].

Again at Wienhausen near Celle several ancient wall-hangings are preserved

which were woven by the nuns of the Cistercian settlement there, and show

their industry and skill, and the readiness with which secular subjects

were treated in the convent. On one which dates from the 14th century the

story of Tristan and Isold is represented; on another hunting scenes; and

on a third the figures of the prophets[644].

At Heiningen near Wolfenbüttel, a house of Austin nuns, the inmates wove

hangings with allegorical figures which are still in existence. At Lüne,

Wende, Erfurt and at the Cistercian house of Ebsdorf wall-hangings were

made which are still preserved, and show the ability of the nuns who

worked at the loom between the 13th and 15th centuries[645]. We are

indebted to Bock for a comprehensive treatise on church decoration and

vestments. He also made a large collection of specimens of such work, but

it has apparently been scattered. Some part of it has been acquired by the

authorities at the South Kensington Museum where it is at present on view.

From these examples of art-needlework and tapestry, we must turn to the

art of writing and decorating books. We hear of a woman calligraphist in

connection with one of the ancient monasteries in Bavaria, the fame of

whose industry was carried on through centuries[646]. The monastery of

Wessobrunn had been founded in the 8th century; it included a community of

nuns as well as of monks, the dwelling allotted to the nuns being spoken

of as the Parthenon, a term sometimes applied to a religious house for

women in these districts. In the words of the monkish historian who wrote

about 1513: ‘the dwellings of the monks were where they are now, but those

of the nuns where the parish church now stands.’ Here between the years

1057 and 1130 Diemud the nun was active as a scribe, the amount of whose

work in the estimation of many ‘exceeded what could be done by several

men.’ She had become a professed nun at an early age and ‘was most skilful

in the art of writing; for while she is not known to have composed any

work of her own, yet she wrote with her own hand many volumes in a most

beautiful and legible character both for divine service and for the

library of the monastery, which volumes are enumerated in a list written

by herself in a certain _plenarius_.’ This list which is extant includes

works to the number of forty-five, which were highly prized during the

nun’s lifetime and had a considerable market value. We find in the list ‘a

Missal with Gradual and Sequences’ given to the bishop of Trier, and a

‘book of Offices with the Baptismal Service,’ given to the bishop of

Augsburg. A ‘bibliotheca,’ that is, a Bible, in two volumes, written by

Diemud, was given by the monastery of Wessobrunn in exchange for an estate

at Peissenburg. Besides these works the list mentions another Bible in

three volumes, books containing the gospels and lessons, writings of

Gregory and Augustine, and the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius. In

course of time these books were scattered, lists of those which remained

at Wessobrunn being made from time to time. At the sequestration of the

monastery at the beginning of the 19th century only fifteen volumes

written by Diemud remained, which were taken to Munich. They are said to

be of rare beauty, distinguished by highly ornate initial letters and by

small writing which is most elegant[647]. An example of this writing was

reproduced by Hefner in the hope that it might lead to the identification

of other books written by Diemud which may have found their way into other

libraries and be still in existence.

Contemporaneously with Diemud we find another Bavarian nun, Leukardis,

active as a scribe at Mallersdorf; she is said to have been of Scottish

origin and she knew Scotch (or Irish?), Greek, Latin, and German, and did

so much good work that the monk Laiupold, who was also devoted to writing,

established an anniversary in her memory[648].

The nuns of Admunt in Bavaria are also spoken of as devoted to

transcribing, and Wattenbach comments on the neat and elegant way in which

they mended the parchment leaves of their manuscripts with coloured silken

thread[649].

Again a manuscript written for Marbach about the year 1149 by Gutta von

Schwarzenthan is described as splendid. It contains the martyrology of

Usuard, the Rule of St Augustine with the comments of Hugo of St Victor,

the constitutions of Marbach and a homily for every day in the year[650].

We hear of Emo, abbot of Wittewierum (1204-34), a Premonstrant house which

contained men and women, that ‘not only did he zealously encourage his

canons (clericis) to write, acting as their instructor, but taking count

of the diligence of the female sex he set women who were clever at writing

to practise the art assiduously[651].’ Wattenbach considers that nuns

were especially clever in copying books for choir use, and in decorating

them.

These notices must suffice. They prove that women leading cloistered lives

took an active interest in art-industry in all its branches and that

productiveness in their houses was controlled by the same causes which led

to the development and decay of art-industry in the houses of men.

Excellent work was done in Benedictine houses during early Christian

times, that is between the 8th and the 11th centuries; the revival of

monastic life in the Middle Ages gave a new impulse to art-industry and

the highest degree of excellence was reached in the first half of the 14th

century. After that there are signs of a steadily accelerated decline. The

reason of this, as a later chapter will show, lies chiefly in the changed

conditions of life outside the convent, which made it easier for artisans

in the townships to practise those arts and crafts which had hitherto been

practised in religious settlements. Writing, decorating, and

book-binding[652], as well as weaving and embroidering[653], were taken up

by secular workers and were practised by them on a far larger scale; the

spread of education in lay circles and the greater luxury in home

surroundings having created a new taste and a new market for artistic

productions. The taste of this wider public naturally influenced the

character of the work which was produced; cheapness and splendour, if

possible the combination of the two, were the qualities chiefly aimed at.

These are valuable qualities no doubt in their way, but insistence on them

had a discouraging effect on the productiveness of the convent. During the

14th and 15th centuries convents gave up their artistic pursuits. The

self-denying industry and unobtrusive earnestness which set the stamp of

excellence on the productions of the old hand-worker were no more, for the

spirit which looked upon the production of things beautiful as a matter of

religion had died out.

§ 2. Herrad and the ‘Garden of Delights.’

A work produced at Hohenburg, a nunnery in Elsass, in the 12th century

confirms the belief that given favourable conditions it is possible for

women to produce good work and to help to accumulate knowledge. Herrad,

the abbess of this house, conceived the idea of compiling for the use of

her nuns an encyclopædic work which should embody, in pictures and in

words, the knowledge of her age. The importance of this work has long

survived the attainment of its original purpose, for with its hundreds of

illustrations and its copious text it has afforded a wealth of information

on the customs, manners, conceptions and mode of life of the 12th century,

to which many students of archæology, art and philology have gone for

instruction and for the illustration of their own books. ‘Few illuminated

manuscripts had acquired a fame so well deserved as the “Garden of

Delights,” the _Hortus Deliciarum_, of Herrad,’ says the editor of the

great collection of reproductions of the pictures which illustrated her

work[654]. For the work itself is no more. The MS. was destroyed in the

fire which broke out in the library of Strasburg when that city was

bombarded by the Germans in 1870, and with it perished a complete copy of

the text. Our knowledge of the work is therefore limited to the remarks of

those who had studied it and to those portions of it which had been copied

or transcribed previous to its destruction. The ‘Society for the

Preservation of the Monuments of Elsass’ is at present collecting and

publishing a reproduction of all existing tracings and copies of the

pictures or of parts of them, and this collection already numbers nearly

two hundred. They are mere fragments of course of the work itself, and yet

they are of the highest interest. For Herrad’s ‘Garden of Delights’ with

its apt illustrations gave a complete picture of life in its domestic and

out-of-door aspects as it presented itself in the 12th century. It showed

what conceptions and ideas were then attractive to nuns and their

estimation of knowledge, and it has given greater insight than any other

production into the talents, the enthusiasm and the industry which were

found at this period in a nunnery.

The religious settlement at Hohenburg[655] was an ancient foundation

situated on the flat summit of a spur of the Vosges mountains, which here

rise abruptly to a height of over two thousand five hundred feet from the

wide expanse of the valley of the Rhine below. The wooded heights on

either side of the Rhine were the favourite haunts of missionaries in

early times, who settled there and appropriated sites in close proximity

to the castles or strongholds of the landed gentry. At one time there were

as many as sixty religious settlements in the Rhine valley between Basel

and Mainz and over a hundred castles or burgs. The nunnery of Hohenburg

was of high rank among these religious settlements owing to its extensive

property and to its commanding situation. The summit of the hill was

surrounded by an ancient wall dating from pre-Christian times which is

still known as the heathen wall; it enclosed a wide clearance of fields

and meadows, and the numerous buildings of the convent settlement. This

height was the goal of numerous pilgrimages and had various associations

dating from heathen times. It is at the present day a favourite health

resort on account of its aspect and romantic surroundings.

From historical information recently collected by Roth[656] we gather that

a religious settlement of women existed on the Hohenburg as early as the

9th century. Judith, the wife of Ludwig the Pious († 1840), took some

interest in it. Legendary lore has spun many webs about the religious

settlements in the Rhine district including that of Hohenburg, and the

majority of modern historians have taken no trouble to unravel them.

Legend[657] tells us that a holy maiden St Odilia fled from the

persecution of a cruel father and came to the Hohenburg, where she settled

and gathered many women about her. Various stories more or less fanciful

are told of her. She was cured of blindness and baptized by Archbishop

Hildulf of Trier and Bishop Erhard of Regensburg--who are unknown to

history; she was carried down the river in a chest and educated at the

convent of Beaume or Palma; and she has been given as a relative to St

Leodgar bishop of Autun († 678) and as a daughter to Eticho duke of the

Allemanni. Besides these stories we find the name Odilia locally

associated with a cave, a well, three linden-trees and a stone of peculiar

shape which are obviously heathen survivals, and encourage the view that

Odilia is the representative of some pre-Christian divinity. Roth has

shown that the name Odilia is nowhere on record in these districts before

the 10th century, and it occurs in connection with Hohenburg only in the

11th century, that is three or four hundred years after the saint’s

reputed foundation of the house. When Pope Leo IX (1048-1054), who was an

Alsatian, visited his home he was presented with a rhymed ‘responsarium’

on the local saints of the district. Among them was Odilia, who at that

time was directly associated with the nunnery. A hundred years later when

the convent was better known through the influence and activity of its

abbesses Relind and Herrad, St Odilia was looked upon as the daughter of

Duke Eticho and the founder of the house--this will be shown from pictures

preserved in Herrad’s work. But evidently this abbess had no knowledge of

the saint’s blindness and sufferings, nor of her connection with St

Leodgar and other prelates, which are all described in her legend written

another hundred years later.

In the year 1154 Relind[658], abbess of Berg, a nunnery near Neuburg on

the Danube, was appointed abbess at Hohenburg in accordance with the wish,

it is said, of the emperor Friedrich Barbarossa (1152-1190). Her influence

was most beneficial; many daughters of the surrounding gentry came to

study under her, and among them Herrad of the family of Landsperg. The

term nun must be applied to these women with a reservation; some writers

speak of them as Austin canonesses on account of the liberties they

enjoyed. In Herrad’s ‘Garden’ the picture of her nuns represents them

wearing clothes that differ little from those worn by women in other walks

of life. Their dresses are of different colours, their cloaks are

generally brown, and their veils are always brilliantly coloured, some

red, some purple[659]. The only detail of dress which they have in common

is a white turban or head-dress, over which the veil is thrown. They wear

no wimples. The establishment of the house under Herrad’s rule consisted

of forty-seven nuns and thirteen novices (or lay sisters?) who are

represented as wearing clothes similar to those of the nuns.

Herrad’s admission to the house furthered its prosperity in every way, for

besides literary and artistic abilities she had considerable powers of

management. She succeeded Relind as abbess in 1167, and in 1181 she

founded a settlement of Austin canons at Truttenhausen, and later another

at St Gorgon, both of which are situated not far below the summit of the

hill. The canons of these settlements took it in turn to read mass in the

women’s chapel. Roth speaks of other improvements which Herrad carried out

with the help of her diocesan, the bishop of Strasburg.

The consecration of a church at Niedermünster, situated below the

Hohenburg, also falls within the term of Herrad’s rule. A second nunnery

was founded there as a dependency, which was separated from the parent

house probably during Herrad’s lifetime, owing to the efforts of the

abbess Edelind (1195-1200), who according to Gérard was also of the family

of Landsperg[660]. The claim of this abbess to the attention of posterity

rests on her having been the possessor of a still extant chased case

several feet high, which she had made to hold a fragment of the Holy Cross

which a camel was alleged to have brought to Niedermünster of its own

accord in the time of Karl the Great. This case is covered with many

figures worked in relief and is praised by art students as a curious

example of early metal work[661].

The history of Hohenburg and Niedermünster in the sequel offers much that

is interesting. For while the nuns at Niedermünster accepted the rule of

St Benedict, the nuns on the Hohenburg persisted in their independent

course. At Niedermünster a stone monument is still to be seen which

experts declare to be 13th century work, and which gives a clue to the

association of St Odilia with Leodgar, to whom the church at Niedermünster

was dedicated. Three sides of this monument are covered with figures. On

one stands St Leodgar; on the next St Odilia with long tresses, and Duke

Eticho; on the third the Virgin, also with long tresses, and below her the

abbesses Relind and Herrad holding a book. Both these abbesses are

designated by name, and wear convent garb and wimples utterly different

from the clothes worn by them in the pictures of Herrad’s book[662].

From these general remarks we turn to the great work of Herrad’s life, to

which she herself gave the title of the ‘Garden of Delights.’ It consisted

of 324 parchment leaves of folio size, which contained an account of the

history of the world founded on the Biblical narrative, with many

digressions into the realm of philosophy, moral speculation, and

contemporary knowledge--and with numerous pictures in illustration of it.

The book was so arranged that the pictures stood alongside of the text;

and the pages of the work which were devoted to illustrations were in most

cases divided into three sections by lines across, so that the pictures

stood one above the other. The figures in each picture were about four

inches high. There were, however, a certain number of full-page

illustrations with larger figures, and it is among these that the greatest

proofs are given of Herrad’s imaginative powers and the range of her

intellectual abilities.

Engelhardt, to whom we are indebted for the fullest description of the

‘Garden of Delights,’ made tracings of a number of pictures and copied

their colouring[663]. He comments on the brilliant smoothness and finish

of the original miniature paintings. Only the silver, he says, was

tarnished; the gold was undimmed and all the colours preserved their full

brilliancy, when he had the work before him in the early part of this

century. According to him the method of painting was as follows. First the

figures were drawn in dark outline, then the colouring was filled in bit

by bit; shadows and high lights were next laid on, and then the dark

outlines were again gone over.

The question has naturally arisen whether Herrad did the whole of the work

herself. The text which stood at the beginning and at the end of it

referred to her as its sole author. Students are generally agreed that the

outline drawing and the writing were entirely her work, but the colours

may or may not have been laid on by her. For the work was wonderfully

complete in plan and execution--the conception of one mind, which laboured

with unceasing perseverance to realize the conception it had formed.

The style in which the pictures were drawn has likewise been the occasion

of much comment. We are here on the border-land between the conventional

Byzantine and the realistic Gothic styles. ‘We see very clearly,’ says

Woltman[664], ‘how the new ideas which scholastic learning and poetry had

generated required new modes of expression, and led to conceptions for

which the older art yielded no models and which had to be taken from real

life.’ In most cases Herrad no doubt had a model before her and adhered to

the traditional rendering, but where the model was wanting she may have

drawn on her powers of imagination and supplied details from her

surroundings. Thus incidents of Biblical history are represented by her in

a manner familiar to the student of early Christian art. A grave and

serious dignity which recalls the wall mosaics at Ravenna characterizes

the figures of God, Christ, Mary, and the angels; Engelhardt has pointed

out the close similarity of Herrad’s picture of the Annunciation to that

contained in a Greek MS. of the 9th century[665]. But in other cases

Herrad either composed herself or else drew from models which were nearer

to her in time and place. Thus the picture of the sun-god Apollo

represents him in a heavy mediaeval cart drawn by four horses, and the men

and women in many pictures are dressed in the fashion of the time. The

pictures drawn from real life especially delight the archæological

student. A water-mill grinding corn, men at the plough, soldiers on the

march and fighting, are drawn with minute exactness and with considerable

skill. Some of these scenes are powerfully realistic in spite of a certain

awkwardness in the figures; for example, that of a traveller who is

waylaid by robbers, coupled with the story of the good Samaritan, which is

illustrated by a series of pictures. In the first of these a man is

depicted lying by the roadside; in the second we see him on a horse which

is led by the Samaritan, and in the third he has arrived at the inn and is

being lifted down from the horse.

Herrad executed her work between 1160 and 1170, but additional entries

were made as late as 1190. This period falls in the reign of the emperor

Friedrich Barbarossa (1152-1190), which followed upon that of the luckless

Konrad III, and was one of comparative quiet and prosperity in Germany.

The power of the Pope had passed its climax, there was schism in the

Papacy, which was greatly aggravated by the line of conduct Friedrich

adopted, but the scene of their struggle had shifted to the cities of

northern Italy. We shall see later on that political changes were watched

with much interest in some nunneries, and that the conduct of the Emperor,

the Pope, and the bishops was keenly criticised among nuns. It is

difficult to tell how far events affected Herrad. The prose narrative

which her work contained, as far as we know, has perished and we have no

definite clue to her interpretation of contemporary affairs, but probably

she was content to devote her energies to rearranging and interpreting the

intellectual wealth of the age without entering into party conflicts. The

illustrations of the ‘Garden of Delights’ which have been preserved are

invaluable for the study of contemporary life, but they contain no

information as to contemporary events.

The study and enjoyment of the work in its original form were facilitated

by the addition to the picture of the name of every person and every

implement in Latin or in German, sometimes in both; and in many cases an

explanatory sentence or a moral maxim was introduced into the picture, so

that the nun who studied the work naturally picked up Latin words and

sentences. Through the industry of Engelhardt all these sentences and

words have been preserved, and the coupling of implements with their

names forms a valuable addition to our knowledge of terms as applied in

early mediaeval times. The book also originally contained a continuous

history in Latin for more advanced students, but unfortunately that is

lost. Engelhardt says that it described the history of the world from the

Creation to the coming of Antichrist, with many extracts from various

writers. He enumerates twenty writers from whose works Herrad quotes.

Among them are Eusebius Pamphili († c. 350), Jerome († 420), Isidor of

Seville († 636), Bede († 735), Frechulf († 838), and others who were her

contemporaries, such as Petrus Lombardus († 1164) and Petrus Comestor (†

1198). When quoting from secular writers the abbess invariably made

mention of the fact. In one instance she remarked that ‘all these things

have been described by philosophers by aid of their worldly wisdom (per

mundanam sapientiam), but this was the product of the Holy Spirit also.’

The attitude which Herrad assumed towards learning generally can be

studied in the pictures which deal with abstract conceptions. They are

usually of folio size and contain illustrations which are instructive to

the student of mediaeval scholasticism. Two pictures introduced into the

history of the Tower of Babel which illustrate the falling away from true

faith deserve especial attention. The one is a representation of the ‘Nine

Muses’; on it female heads of quaint dignity in medallions are arranged in

a circle. The other represents the ‘Seven Liberal Arts,’ in accordance

with the mediaeval interpretation of the teaching of Aristotle[666]. On it

Philosophy, a female figure, is seated in the centre of the picture

wearing a crown with three heads. These heads are designated as ‘ethica,

logica, phisica’; by means of these three branches of learning philosophy

adds to her powers of insight. Socrates and Plato, who are designated as

‘philosophers,’ sit below, and from the figure of Philosophy ‘seven

streams of wisdom flow which are turned into liberal arts’ as the text

explains. These arts are personified as female figures in 12th century

dress, and are so arranged that each figure stands in a separate division

forming a circle round Philosophy and the philosophers. The Liberal Arts

are robed in different colours, and each holds an emblem of her power.

‘Grammar,’ dressed in dark red, has a book and a birch rod; ‘Geometry,’ in

light red, has a measuring rod and a compass; ‘Arithmetic,’ in light blue,

holds a string of alternate white and black beads; ‘Music,’ dressed in

purple, has a lyre, a zither and a hurdy-gurdy; ‘Astronomy,’ in dark

green, holds a measure and looks up at the stars; ‘Rhetoric,’ in dark

blue, has a stilus and a writing-tablet (tabula); and ‘Dialectic,’ in

light green, holds the head of a howling dog. Each figure is encircled by

a sentence explaining the special nature of her power. In the lower part

of the picture are four men, seated at desks, with books, pens and

penknives, engaged in reading and writing. These are the ‘poets or magi,

who are filled with a worldly spirit’; black birds appear to be whispering

in their ears.

The whole of this picture is doubtless traditional; its admission into the

work shows that Herrad’s conception of ‘profane’ learning was one of

distinct appreciation. The idea conveyed by means of the pictures to the

young women students was by no means superficial or derogatory to

learning. On the contrary, we see them under the influence of a teacher

through whom their respectful attitude towards the means and modes of

knowledge was assured.

Another picture of folio size, called ‘The Ladder to Perfection,’ shows

that Herrad accepted a critical attitude towards the members of religion.

A ladder is drawn diagonally across the page and a number of figures are

seen ascending it on their way towards heaven. The highest rung has been

reached by Christian love (Caritas) personified as a woman to whom a crown

is proffered from heaven. Below her stand the representatives of different

branches of the religious profession and laymen arranged in order of

excellence, and with each is given a picture of the temptation which

prevents him from ascending further up the ladder. Among these the hermit

(heremita) stands highest, but he is held back by the charms of his

garden. Below him stands the recluse (inclusus), whose temptation is

slothfulness, which is represented by a bed. Then comes the monk

(monachus), who leans towards a mass of gold; ‘he is typical of all false

monks,’ says Herrad, ‘whose heart is drawn from duties by the sight of

money, and who cannot rise above greed.’ The nun (sanctimonialis) and the

cleric (clericus) have reached the same rung on the ladder. She is the

representative of false nuns who yield to the temptation of persuasion and

gifts, and return to their parents, never attaining the crown of life; he

is drawn away by the allurements of the table, and by a woman (amica) who

stands below. There are also figures of a lay woman and a soldier who are

respectively attracted by the charms of a city and of war. They are

absorbed by vanities, and we are told ‘rarely reach the crown of life

through contemplation.’ The picture is further crowded with demons who are

attacking and angels who are defending the people on the ladder. The devil

lurks below in the form of a dragon ready to seize upon those who fall.

In further illustration of Herrad’s attitude towards the clergy,

Engelhardt cites a passage from her work in which she severely censures

the customs which the clergy tolerate in church on festal days. In company

with laymen and loose women they eat and drink, and indulge in jokes and

games which invariably end in uproariousness. ‘How worthy of praise,’ she

exclaims, ‘if the spiritual princes of the Church (principes ecclesiae

spirituales) restored the evangelical teaching of early times in the place

of such customs[667].’

From these general remarks we turn to the pictures which illustrate the

Biblical narrative in a number of scenes containing a store of imagery and

a wealth of design. We cannot but admire the ready brush of the abbess and

the courage with which she grappled with difficulties, drawing with equal

skill human figures and divine personifications, dramatic incidents and

allegorical combinations.

The pictures which illustrated the Creation were led up to by a number of

diagrams and digressions on astronomy and geography, with lists of

technical terms in Latin and their German equivalents. Among these was a

picture of the signs of the zodiac and a ‘computus’ or table for

determining the festal days of the year. The desire to fix the date of

incidents of Old and New Testament history absorbed much attention at this

period, and Herrad’s table of computation was looked upon as so important

that it was recently used by Piper as the starting-point for an

investigation on the Calendar generally[668]. In Herrad’s table the date

of Easter was worked out for a cycle of 532 years, that is from 1175 till

1706; leap-years were marked, and the day of the week on which Christmas

fell was given for the whole period.

The history of the Biblical narrative opens with a picture illustrating

the creation of the animals. The lion, the elephant, the unicorn and the

giraffe are most fantastic, but the ox, the ass, the horse, the domestic

fowl, the sylvan animals of northern latitudes, and fish, are drawn with

tolerable correctness. God is represented in classical robes moving slowly

across a wave of the waters. In another picture He is depicted in a

simpler manner seated and fashioning the small figure of Adam, which He

holds between His knees. Again He is seen breathing life into Adam’s

nostrils, and then holding in His hand a rib out of which projects the

head of Eve, while Adam is lying asleep on the ground. There is a series

of pictures illustrating the temptation and expulsion from Paradise. A

full-sized one gives the Tree of Life, which has many ramifications out of

which human faces are peeping. Adam and Eve are throughout pictured as of

the same height and are several times drawn in the nude. There is a very

graceful picture in which Adam is seen delving while Eve spins.

Poems on the First Man and on the Fall accompanied by musical notation are

here introduced. The poems are preserved, the music is apparently lost; it

is not stated whether Herrad wrote the music herself.

The story of Noah and his sleeping in the vineyard, and the building of

the Tower of Babel, are illustrated by scenes details of which are

presumably drawn from real life. Here we see wooden vats and buckets, the

various implements used in the vintage, pictures of masons at work dressed

in short kirtles, and the various implements and arrangements for

building.

After the pictures on secular learning above referred to the thread of

Biblical narrative is resumed, and there are many scenes from the lives of

the patriarchs, such as Jacob giving his blessing, a picture of Jacob’s

dream, Pharaoh seated on his throne with sumptuous surroundings, and the

passage over the Red Sea, in which the soldiers are clad in chain-mail and

march with standards borne aloft. Soldiers similarly accoutred are drawn

in one picture fighting under the leadership of Joshua; in another picture

they are seen attacking a city, a scene taken from the story of the

assault of Dan. The adoration of the golden calf gave occasion for a

picture which also illustrates contemporary manners. Men and women dressed

in the costume of the day are seen joining hands in a ring and dancing

round the idol. We also have pictures of the Holy Ark and of the

Tabernacle; the seven-branched candlestick is most elaborately drawn, and

the twelve tribes of Israel are grouped in medallions around it.

The next remarkable picture is the burial of Moses. In a solitary rocky

surrounding God lays the patriarch in his grave, while a demon holds him

by the legs and is pushed away by an angel. The demon was obviously a

living reality to Herrad, and he frequently appears in her pictures with

his wide mouth, long nose, pointed ears and green-coloured body, a figure

grotesque rather than terrible. When the moment of death is represented he

invariably puts in an appearance and claims the soul, which in one case

escapes from the dying person’s mouth in the shape of a small black demon.

In another picture the soul is wrapped in swaddling clothes and is borne

aloft by angels. This was a pre-Christian conception, that life is a small

living thing which dwells inside a human being and escapes at death. On

classic soil one comes across escaping life represented as a babe; in

German folk-lore it is often a mouse or a toad.

The story of Goliath and of David is also illustrated. David is a

diminutive figure wearing a kirtle, Goliath is huge and clad in

chain-mail. Another picture represents David playing on the harp. There

were also a number of scenes from the books of Kings, of Job, and of

Tobit; none of these have as yet been reproduced. A picture of the

prophets has, however, been published, in which a number of figures of

different ages are depicted in different attitudes standing side by side.

One of the most curious and dramatic pictures is the full-page

illustration of Jonah being cast up by the fish. The fish is a carp of

huge size, but it is designated as a whale.

The New Testament pictures follow on the Old Testament, but between them

stand several which illustrate their unity. One is an allegorical figure

with two heads, the one the head of Moses, the other that of Christ. There

is also a picture in folio size of the mystic family of Christ. At the

bottom is Abraham, who holds the mystic vine which grows upwards and

divides into beautiful twisted ramifications forming circles, and in these

are arranged the heads of patriarchs, kings, and groups of other members

of Christ’s family. A picture of Leviathan is extremely curious. He is

depicted floating below. God stands above with a rod and line, and uses

the cross as a fish-hook, dragging out of the huge creature’s mouth the

heads of the prophets which are strung together in a row.

The history of Christ was led up to by an account of the birth of John the

Baptist. The Nativity was celebrated by several poems, the words of which

have come down to us; the music which accompanied them is apparently lost.

Among the most realistic pictures preserved is that of the ‘Murder of the

Innocents’; agony is characteristically expressed in the attitude and

faces of the mothers who watch the soldiers fulfilling their task.

Other pictures, copies of which have been preserved, illustrate the

arrival of the three kings and Christ’s baptism. In this latter picture

the Jordan is personified as a river-god sitting in the water; the doors

of heaven above are wide open and a dove drawn in the accepted style is

descending. Christ’s parables gave the abbess many occasions for depicting

scenes taken from real life, many of which in their simplicity are truly

delightful. Biblical stories were supplemented by incidents taken from

legendary history, which were likewise accompanied by pictures, few of

which seem to have been preserved. The story of the healing power of the

statue of Christ, the legend of the Vernacle, and the story of the True

Cross were all illustrated. There was Adam planting the Tree of Life, King

Solomon fetching its wood to Jerusalem and making a bridge over the river

with it, and the Queen of Sheba coming on a visit and hesitating to cross

the bridge.

The pictures of the story of the Agony, the Resurrection, and the Acts of

the Apostles met with great praise from all who saw them. There were

folio-sized pictures setting forth the Universality of the Church, and the

Contending of Virtues and Vices[669]. Of this latter series several

pictures have just appeared in reproduction; some are arranged in pairs,

facing each other. The chief Vices, each with a band of attendants, are

depicted confronting and then overcome by the chief Virtues; all are

represented as women. Thus Pride, ‘Superbia,’ seated on horseback on a

lion’s skin and brandishing a spear, is leading a band of women, who are

clad in chain-mail with robes flowing about their feet and carrying

spears, against a band of Virtues similarly attired but carrying swords. A

most interesting picture is that of Luxury, ‘Luxuria,’ who is seen with

fourteen attendant Vices riding in a sumptuous four-wheeled car; Luxury is

in front throwing violets. She is confronted by a band of Virtues led by

Temperance, ‘Temperantia,’ who are in front of the horses and hold up

their hands in reprobation. On the next picture the car of Luxury is

smashed, the horses are overturned, and she herself is under the wheels.

Of her attendants ‘Voluptas’ has cast aside her rings and ornaments and is

caught in a briar-bush, ‘Amor’ has thrown away bow and quiver, and

‘Avaritia’ is seizing upon what the others have dropped. On another

picture Liberality, ‘Largitas,’ has stripped Rapine and Avarice, and has

transfixed Avarice with a spear.

Some of the pictures which illustrate Solomon in his glory and Solomon’s

Vanity of Vanities have also been preserved. Among them is Solomon lying

on a sumptuous couch and surrounded by his warriors. A representation of

two mannikins occurs among the Vanities; these mannikins were moved by

threads, exactly like a modern toy. The pictures illustrating the

experiences of the Church, the position of her members from Pope to

cleric, the means of repentance, and the coming of Antichrist, all roused

the enthusiasm of those who saw them; none of these have till now been

reproduced. Gérard, who was probably the last to see and handle the work

of Herrad, was especially struck by the pictures of the Last Judgment and

of Heaven and Hell. His descriptions of them were lying in the library at

the time of the bombardment, and were only rescued by the devotion of a

friend[670]. On the strength of these pictures he numbers Herrad among the

most imaginative painters the world has known. Engelhardt also was greatly

struck by them. He describes a picture of Hell in the following terms (p.

51):

‘A mass of rocks was arranged so as to make a framework to this picture,

in the chasms of which rocks flames were flaring and the condemned were

seen suffering torments. Rivers of flame divided the inner part of the

picture into four divisions. In the lowest of these, at the bottom of

Hell, sat Lucifer or Satan in chains holding Antichrist in his lap. Next

to him a demon carried along a covetous monk, whose punishment was then

represented: he lay on his back without clothes and a demon poured molten

gold into his mouth. In the second division counting from below two

boiling caldrons hung suspended: in the one were Jews, in the other

soldiers (the text says ‘milites vel armati’). Demons stood by holding men

of either kind ready to add them to those already in the caldrons; other

demons were stirring the caldrons with forks. In front of the Jews’

caldron a demon was depicted holding a naked sinner to whom he

administered punishment by beating him. In the division above this a

usurer had hot gold poured into his hand; a slanderer was made to lick a

toad; an eaves-dropper had his ears pinched; a vain woman was assisted at

her toilet by demons (they seemed to be lacing her); the woman who had

murdered her child was forced to devour it. The following peculiar picture

filled the highest division: a rope was drawn through chasms in the rocks

so as to form a swing; on this a grinning demon sat swinging. At the ends

of the rope which hung on the other side of the rocks two sinners were

hanging bound head and foot so as to balance each other; demons held them

by the hair. Another sinner hung suspended by his feet, with a block of

stone hanging from his neck on which a demon was swinging. Sensual

pleasures personified were wound around and bitten by snakes, and a man

who had committed suicide was depicted plunging a knife into his own

body.’

These pictures illustrated with forcible directness conceptions which were

current throughout the religious world and served as a means of teaching

the lesson of reward and punishment in the world to come. Later on in

treating of mysticism we shall again see these conceptions stimulating the

imaginative powers of women living in convents.

Copies of the last pages of the ‘Garden of Delights,’ which are devoted to

a representation of the Hohenburg and of its convent of women, have

fortunately been preserved. Here we see the settlement as it presented

itself to Herrad and the thoughts she associated with it. The picture is

the size of two folio pages. High above in the centre stands Christ in

front of the convent church, holding in His right hand a golden staff

which is touched by the Virgin and St Peter, and the end of which is

supported by Duke Eticho, whom Herrad looked upon as the father of St

Odilia. St John the Baptist and St Odilia are seen standing on the other

side of Christ. A green hill is represented below roughly studded with

bushes or brambles,--this is the hill of the Hohenburg. On one slope of it

Duke Eticho is seated, and he hands the golden key of the convent to St

Odilia, who advances towards him followed by a band of women. Relind,

Herrad’s teacher and predecessor, also stands on the hill with her hand

resting on a cross on which are inscribed verses addressed to the nuns.

The fact that she restored the church and the discipline at Hohenburg,

which had fallen entirely into decay, is commemorated in a sentence which

is placed on the other side of her. Over against her stands Herrad

herself, who also holds verses addressed to the nuns. And between these

two abbesses all the members of Herrad’s congregation are drawn, six rows

of women’s heads placed one above the other. There is no attempt at

portraiture, but the name of each nun and each novice is added to her

picture. Among these names are those of families of the surrounding landed

gentry, from which we gather that the nunnery was chiefly for the upper

classes. The nuns in the picture address lines to Christ begging Him to

number them among the elect.

Such in rough outline was the ‘Garden of Delights,’ the loss of which is

greatly to be deplored, both from the point of view of culture in general,

and from that of women in particular. But even in its fragments the work

is a thing to dwell upon, a monument which bears the stamp of wide

knowledge and lofty thought. It shows how Herrad found her life’s interest

in educating the young women given into her care, how anxious she was that

they should be right-minded in all things, and how she strove to make

their studies delightful to them. The tone which she took towards her

congregation is apparent from the words in which she directly addressed

them. For besides occasional admonitory words, two long poems, one at the

beginning, the other at the end of the work, are devoted to the admonition

of the nuns. Herrad’s poems are composed in different metres; some have

the dignity of the hexameter, some the easier flow of shorter-lined

dactylic verse. The poems addressed to her nuns are of the latter kind.

Their incisive rhythm and ringing rhyme, in which their value chiefly

lies, make a translation difficult. Still a version of the first of these

poems in English prose will help to give the reader some idea of the tone

of the abbess; the form of address is necessarily determined by the mode

of expression of the 12th century, the meaning of the original is by no

means always clear.

This is: ‘The rhyme of Herrad, the abbess, in which she lovingly greets

the young maidens (virgunculas) of the Hohenburg and invites them to their

weal to faith and love of the true Bridegroom.

‘Hail, cohort of Hohenburg virgins, white as the lily and loving the Son

of God, Herrad, your most devoted, your most faithful mother and

handmaiden sings you this song. She greets you times countless and daily

prays that in glad victory you may triumph over things that pass. O,

mirror of many things, spurn, spurn those of time, and garner virtues,

Band of the true Bridegroom. Press on in the struggle to scatter the dread

foe, the King of Kings aids you for His desire is towards you. He Himself

strengthens your soul against Satan; He Himself will grant the glory of

His kingdom after victory. Delights await you, riches are destined for

you, the court of heaven proffers you countless joys. Christ prepares

espousals wondrous in delights, and you may look for this prince if you

preserve your chastity. Mean time put around you noble circlets (?) and

make your faces to shine fair, freed from mental strife. Christ hates spot

or stain, He abhors time-worn lines (of vice); He desires beauteous

virgins and drives forth women who are unchaste. With a dove-like faith

call upon that your Bridegroom, that your beauty may become an unbroken

glory. Living without guile, be admonished by praisegiving, so that you

may complete your best works of ascent. Do not hesitate amidst the

doubtful currents of the world, the truthful God holds out rewards after

danger. Suffer hardships now, despising the world’s prosperity, be now

fellow of the cross, hereafter sharer of the kingdom. Steer across the

ocean freighted with holiness, till you leave the bark and land in Sion.

May Sion’s heavenly castle with its beauteous halls be your home when the

term of life is past. May there the virgin Ruler, Mary’s Son, receive you

in His embrace and lift you up from sadness. Setting aside all the wiles

of the mean tempter, you will be abundantly glad, sweetly rejoicing. The

shining Star of the Sea, the one virgin Mother will join you to her Son in

bond eternal. And by your prayer do not cease to draw me with you to the

sweetest Bridegroom, the Son of the Virgin. As He will be partner of your

victory and of your great glory, He will draw you from earthly things.

Farewell, chaste band, you my exceeding joy, live without offence, ever

love Christ. May this book prove useful and delightful to you, may you

never cease to ponder it in your breast. May forgetfulness not seize you

like the ostrich (more Struthineo)[671], and may you not leave the way

before you have attained. Amen.’

This address in verse was followed by these lines in prose--‘Herrad, who

through the grace of God is abbess of the church on the Hohenburg, here

addresses the sweet maidens of Christ who are working as though in the

vineyard of the Lord; may He grant grace and glory unto them.--I was

thinking of your happiness when like a bee guided by the inspiring God I

drew from many flowers of sacred and philosophic writing this book called

the ‘Garden of Delights’; and I have put it together to the praise of

Christ and the Church, and to your enjoyment, as though into a sweet

honeycomb. Therefore you must diligently seek your salvation in it and

strengthen your weary spirit with its sweet honey drops; always be bent

on love of your Bridegroom and fortified by spiritual joys, and you will

safely pass through what is transitory, and secure great and lasting

happiness. Through your love of Christ, help me who am climbing along a

dangerous uncertain path by your fruitful prayer when I pass away from

this earth’s experiences. Amen.’

Thus far we have followed Herrad in her work and in her relations towards

her nuns; the question naturally arises, What inner experiences prompted

her to her great undertaking and in what spirit did she carry it through?

It has been noticed that a sombreness is characteristic of certain parts

of the work, and is peculiar to some of her poems also. Two short verses

which occur in the work seem to reflect her mental state. The one urges

great liberality of mind. It discusses the basis of purity, and comes to

the conclusion that purity depends less on actions than on the spirit in

which they are done. The other follows the mind through its several stages

of development and deserves to be chronicled among the words of wisdom. It

runs as follows: ‘Despise the world, despise nothing, despise thyself,

despise despising thyself,--these are four good things.’