CELTIC ILLUMINATION--_continued_
The Iona Gospels--Contrast with Roman and Byzantine--Details--Treatment
of animal forms--Colour schemes--The Gospel-book of St. Columbanus--That
of Mael Brith Mac Durnan--The Lindisfarne Gospels--_Cumdachs_--Other
book-shrines.
We have seen that in both Roman and Byzantine MSS. the titles and
beginnings of books were merely distinguished by a lettering in red or
gold, rather smaller, in fact, than the ordinary text, but rendered
distinct by the means referred to. The handwriting, too, is clear and
legible, whether capital, uncial, or minuscule.
In absolute contrast to all this the Iona Gospels have the first page
completely covered with ornament. On the next the letters are of an
enormous size, followed by a few words, not merely in _uncials_, but in
characters varying from half an inch to two inches in height. The page
opposite to each Gospel is similarly filled with decoration, separated
into four compartments by an ornamented Greek cross. This may, of
course, be simply a geometrical device in no way connected with Greece,
but, taken in connection with other features, we see in it an indication
of contact with Byzantine work and the side of illumination which deals
rather with the tabular enrichment of the page than the development of
the initial. Further, the writing, though large, is not easily legible,
for it is involved, enclaved, and conjointed in a manner sufficiently
puzzling to those who see it for the first time.
The plaiting and inlaying are certainly borrowed from local usages, and
the survival of the same kind of interlaced plaiting in the Scottish
tartans is some evidence of the long familiarity of the Celtic race with
the art of weaving. When we remember that some of the early illuminators
were also workers in metals, we can understand that penmen like Dagæus,
Dunstan, and Eloy had designs at their command producible by either
method. So we see, both in the MS. and in the brooch and buckle, the
same kind of design. Among the earliest animals brought into this Celtic
work we find the dog and the dragon; the latter both wingless and
winged, according to convenience or requirement. The dog is so common in
some of the Celto-Lombardic MS., of which examples still exist at Monte
Cassino, as almost to create a style; while the dragon survives to the
latest period of Gothic art.
Whatever is introduced into a Celtic illumination is at once treated as
a matter of ornament. When the human figure appears it is remorselessly
subjected to the same rules as the rest of the work; the hair and beard
are spiral coils, the eyes, nostrils, and limbs are symmetrical
flourishes. Colour is quite regardless of natural possibility. The hair
and draperies are simply patterned as compartments of green or blue, or
red or black, as may be required for the _tout ensemble_; the face
remains white. Lightened tints are preferred to full colours, as pale
yellow, pink, lavender, and light green. A very ludicrous device is made
use of to denote the folds of the drapery; they are not darkened, there
is no light and shade in Celtic work, but are simply lines of a strongly
contrasting colour. The blue and red appear to be opaque, and therefore
mineral colours; the rest are thin and transparent. Nothing can be more
wayward than the colouring of the symbolic beasts of the Gospels. In the
Evangeliary of St. Columbanus (not Columba, but the founder of Luxeuil
and Bobbio, who died in 614) the Lion of St. Mark is an admirable beast
in a suit of green-and-red chain armour in the form of mascles or
lozenges. (See the illustration in Westwood's _Palæographia Sacra
Pictoria_ of a figure page from the Gospels of Mael Brith Mac Durnan for
a typical example.)[12]
[12] See also an article by Westwood in _Journal Archæol. Inst._, vii.
17, on "Irish Miniatures."
The only point that might argue the freedom in Celtic work from
Byzantine influence is the absence of gold, but perhaps this was only
because the earlier Irish illuminators could not obtain it; we find it
later on. In the Book of Kells and the Lambeth Gospels there is no gold.
The former dates somewhere in the seventh century, not the sixth, as
sometimes stated; the latter, shortly before 927. In the Lindisfarne
Gospels (698-721) gold is used. In the Psalter of Ricemarchus, now in
Trinity College, Dublin, are traces of silver. It is in connection with
these Irish MSS. that decorated and jewelled cases, called _cumdachs_,
make their appearance, such as the one attached to the Gospels of St.
Moling in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin. These book-shrines are
almost exclusively an Irish production. In other countries the idea was
to adorn the volume itself with a splendid and costly binding, perhaps
including gold, silver, and gems. In Ireland the idea of sacredness was
carried out in another way. Instead of decorating the covers of the book
itself, it was held, as in such a MS., for instance, as the Book of
Durrow, to be too venerable a relic to be meddled with, and a box or
case was made for it, on which they spent all their artistic skill.
Generally the case is known as a _cumdach_; but one kind, called the
_cathach_, was so closed that the book was completely concealed, and it
was superstitiously believed that if it were opened some terrible
calamity would overtake its possessors. Such was the _cathach_ of
Tyrconnell. We must remember, however, that in this instance the keepers
were not men of book-learning, but hardy warriors who carried the
_cathach_ into battle as a charm and an incitement to victory.
Of similar shrines, which were made for precious books by both the
Greeks and Lombards, the oldest and most famous is that made for
Theudelinde, wife of Agilulf, King of the Lombards, and given by her, in
616, together with the famous iron crown and other relics, to the
Cathedral of Monza, where they are still to be seen.
The enrichment of the covers of books themselves, as distinct from the
use of cases or shrines, has been usual in almost all ages and styles of
decoration. When we come to speak of Carolingian MSS. we shall find
several remarkable instances.
We must now pass on from this curiously attractive theme of Celtic
calligraphy to its contemporary styles of France, Germany, Spain, and
Italy, only remarking by the way that no other style of its time had so
marked an influence on the local _scriptoria_ into which it was
introduced as this same Celtic of Ireland. It is not only traceable, but
easily recognised all along the Rhine, in Burgundy, the Swiss Cantons,
and Lombardy, until at length overwhelmed by the general introduction of
Romanesque or Byzantine, which was restored and filtered through the
Exarchate and the Lombard schools during the early days of the new
Carolingian Empire.