HIGH GOTHIC
The wonderful time of the Burgundian dukes is gone; Charles le
Temeraire leaves the world at Nancy, where the pitying have set up a
cross in memory of his unkingly death, and where the lover of things
Gothic may wander down a certain way to the exquisite portico of the
Ducal Palace and, entering, find the Gothic room where the duke's
precious tapestries are hung. In this sympathetic atmosphere one may
dream away hours in sheer joy of association with these shadowy hosts
of the past, the relentless slayers in the battle scenes, relentless
moralists in the religious subjects--for morality plays had a parallel
in the morality tapestry, issuing such rigid warnings to those who
make merry as is seen in _The Condemnation of Suppers and Banquets_,
_The Reward of Virtue_, _The Triumph of Right_, _The Horrors of the
Seven Deadly Sins_, all of which were popular subjects for the weaver.
With the artists who might be called primitives we have almost
finished in the end of the Fifteenth Century. The simplicity of the
very early weavers passed. They were content with comparatively few
figures, and these so strongly treated that in composition one scarce
took on more importance than another. When Arras and other Flemish
towns, as well as Paris and certain French towns, developed the
industry and employed more ambitious artists, the designs became more
crowded, and the tendency was to multiply figures in an effort to
crowd as many as possible into the space. When architecture appeared
in the design, towers and battlements were crowded with peeping heads
in delightful lack of proportion, and forests of spears springing from
platoons of soldiers, filled almost the entire height of the cloth.
The naive fashion still existed of dressing the characters of an
ancient Biblical or classic drama in costumes which were the mode of
the weaver's time, disregarding the epoch in which the characters
actually lived.
An adherence to the childlike drawing of the early workers continues
noticeable in their quaint way of putting many scenes on one tapestry.
Interiors are readily managed, by dividing--as in _The Sacraments_ set
in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York--with slender Gothic
columns, than which nothing could be prettier, especially when framed
in at the top with the Gothic arch. In outdoor scenes the frank
disregard of the probable adds the charm of audacity. Side by side
with a scene of carnage, a field of blood with victims lying prone, is
inserted an island of flowers whereon youths and dogs are pleasantly
sporting; and adjoining that may be another section cunningly
introduced where a martyred woman is enveloped in flames which spring
from the ground around her as naturally as grass in springtime.
[Illustration: DAVID AND BATHSHEBA
Flemish Tapestry, late Fifteenth Century]
[Illustration: HISTORY OF ST. STEPHEN
Arras Tapestry, Fifteenth Century]
And flowers, flowers everywhere. Those little blossoms of the Gothic
with their perennial beauty, they are one of the smiles of that far
time that shed cheer through the centuries. They are not the
grandiose affairs of the Renaissance whose voluptuous development
contains the arrogant assurance of beauty matured. They do not crown a
column or trail themselves in foliated scrolls; but are just as Nature
meant them to be, unaffected bits of colour and grace, upspringing
from the sod. In the cathedral at Berne is a happy example of the use
of these sweet flowers, as they appear at the feet of the sacred
group, and as they carry the eye into the sky by means of the feathery
branches like fern-fronds which tops the scene; but we find them
nearer home, in almost every Gothic tapestry.
It was about the end of the last Crusade when Italy began to produce
the inspired artists who broke the bonds of Byzantine traditions and
turned back to the inspiration of all art, which is Nature. Giotto,
tending his sheep, began to draw pictures of things as he saw them,
Savonarola awoke the conscience, Dante, Petrarch, Boccaccio--a string
of names to conjure with--all roused the intellect. The dawn of the
Renaissance flushed Europe with the life of civilisation. But before
the wonderful development of art through the reversion to classic
lines, came a high perfection of the style called Gothic, and with
that we are pleased to deal first. It is so full of beauty to the eye
and interest to the intellect that sometimes we must be dragged away
from it to regard the softer lines of later art, with the ingratitude
and reluctance of childhood when torn from its fairy tales to read of
real people in the commonplace of every day.
We are now in the time when the perfection of production was reached
in the tapestries we call Gothic. Artists had grown more certain of
their touch in colour and design, and weavers worked with such
conscientious care as is now almost unknown, and produced a quality of
tapestry superior to that of their forebears. The Fifteenth Century
and the first few years of the Sixteenth were spent in perfecting the
style of the preceding century, and so great was the perfection
reached, that it was impossible to develop further on those lines.
It must not be supposed from their importance that Brussels and Bruges
were the sole towns of weavers. There were many high-warp looms, and
low-warp as well, in many towns in Flanders and France, and there were
also beginnings in Spain, England and Germany. Italy came later. The
superb set in the Cluny Museum in Paris, _The Lady and the Unicorn_,
than which nothing could be lovelier in poetic feeling as well as in
technique, is accorded to French looms. But as it is impossible in a
cursory survey to mention all, the two most important cities are dwelt
upon because it is from them that the greatest amount of the best
product emanated.
Tapestries could not well decline with the fortunes of a town, for
they were a heavy article of commerce at the time when Louis XI
attacked Arras. Trade was made across the Channel, whence came the
best wool for their manufacture; they were bought by the French
monarchs and nobility; many drifted to Genoa and Italy, to be sold by
the active merchants of the times to whoever could buy. When,
therefore, Arras was crushed, her able workmen flew to other centres
of production, principally in Flanders, notably to Bruges and
Brussels, and helped to bring these places into their high position.
[Illustration: VERDURE
French Gothic Tapestry]
[Illustration: "ECCE HOMO"
Brussels Tapestry, about 1520. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New
York]
Stories of kings and their magnificence breathe ever of romance, but
kings could not be magnificent were it not for the labour of the
conscientious common people, those who go daily to their task, asking
nothing better than to live their little span in humble endeavour. The
weavers, the tapissiers of that far-away time in Flanders are
intensely appealing now when their beautiful work hangs before us
to-day. They send us a friendly message down through the centuries. It
is this makes us inquire a bit into the conditions of their lives, and
so we find them scattered through the country north of France working
with single-hearted devotion toward the perfection of their art. That
they arrived there, we know by such tapestries as are left us of their
time.
Bruges was the home of a movement in art similar to that occurring in
Italy. Old traditions of painting were being thrown aside--the
revolution even attacking the painter's medium, tempera, which was
criticised, discarded and replaced by oil on the palettes. Memling,
the brothers Van Eyck, were painting things as they saw them, not as
rules prescribed. Bernard Van Orley was at work with bold originality.
It were strange if this Northern school of painters had not influenced
all art near by. It is to these men that Brussels owes the beauty of
her tapestries in that apogee of Gothic art which immediately preceded
the introduction of the Renaissance from Italy.
Cartoons or drawings for tapestries took on the rules of composition
of these talented and original men. Easily distinguishable is the
strong influence of the religious feeling, the fidelity to standards
of the church. When a rich townsman wished to express his praise or
gratitude to God, he ordered for the church an altar-piece or dainty
gilded Gothic carving to frame the painted panels of careful
execution. When Jean de Rome executed a cartoon, he treated it in much
the same way; built up an airy Gothic structure and filled the spaces
with pretty pictures. The so-called Mazarin tapestry of Mr. Morgan's
shows this treatment at its best. Unhappily, the atelier of Jean de
Rome or Jan von Room is too sketchily portrayed in the book of the
past; its records are faint and elusive. We only hear now and then an
interested allusion, a suggestion that this or that beautiful specimen
of work has come from his atelier.
Cartoons at the beginning of the Sixteenth Century were not all
divided into their different scenes by Gothic column and arch. In much
of the fine work there was no division except a natural one, for the
picture began to develop the modern scheme of treating but one scene
in one picture. Although this might be filled with many groups, yet
all formed a harmonious whole. The practice then fell into disuse of
repeating the same individual many times in one picture.
A good example of the change and improvement in drawing which assisted
in making Brussels' supremacy and in bringing Gothic art to
perfection, is the fine hanging in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.
(Plate facing page 57.) It depicts with beautiful naivete and much
realism the discomfiture of Pharaoh and his army floundering in the
Red Sea, while the serene and elegant children of Israel contemplate
their distress with well-bred calm from the flowery banks of an
orderly park.
[Illustration: ALLEGORICAL SUBJECT
Flemish Tapestry, about 1500. Collection of Alfred W. Hoyt, Esq.]
[Illustration: CROSSING THE RED SEA
Brussels Tapestry, about 1500. Boston Museum of Fine Arts]
This tapestry illustrates so many of the important features of work
during the first period of Brussels' supremacy that it is to be
lingered over, dissected and tasted like a dessert of nuts and wine.
Should one speak first of the cartoon or of the weave, of the artist
or of the craftsmen? If it is to be the tapissier, then to him all
credit, for in this and similar work he has reached a care in
execution and a talent in translation that are inspired. Such quantity
of detail, so many human faces with their varying expressions, could
only be woven by the most adroit tapissier.
The drawing shows, first, one scene of many groups but a sole
interest, with none but probable divisions. Much grace and freedom is
shown in the attitudes of the persons on the shore, and strenuous
effort and despair among the engulfed soldiers. Extreme attention to
detail, the making one part as finished as another, even to the least
detail, is noticeable. The exaggerated patterns of the stuffs
observable in earlier work is absent, and a sense of proportion is
displayed in dress ornament. The free movement of men and beasts, and
the variety of facial expression all show the immense strides made in
drawing and the perfection attained in this brilliant period.
It was a time when the artist perfected the old style and presaged the
new, the years before the Renaissance had left its cradle and marched
over Europe. This perfection of the Gothic ideal has a purity and
simplicity that can never fail to appeal to all who feel that
sincerity is the basic principle of art as it is of character. The
style of Quentin Matsys, of the Van Eycks, was the mode at the end of
the Fifteenth Century and the beginning of the Sixteenth, and after
all this lapse of time it seems to us a sweet and natural expression
of admirable human attributes.
In the new wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, the
labels of certain exhibits, purchases and loans allude briefly to
"studio of Jean de Rome." It is an allusion which especially interests
us, as our country now holds examples of this atelier which make us
wish to know more about its master. He was a designer in the
marvellous transition period of about 1500, when art trembled between
the restraint of ecclesiastic Gothic and the voluptuous freedom of the
Renaissance; hesitated between the conventions of religion and the
abandonment to luxury, to indulgence of the senses. It is the fashion
to regard periods of transition as times of decadence, of false
standards of hybrid production, but at least they are full of deepest
interest to the student of design who finds in the tremulous dawn of
the new idea a flush which beautifies the last years of the old
method.
[Illustration: THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN
Flemish Tapestry, about 1510. Collection of J. Pierpont Morgan,
Esq., New York]
Attributed to this newly unearthed studio of Jean de Rome hangs a
marvellous tapestry in the new wing alluded to, one which deserves
repeated visits. (Plate facing page 58.) Indeed, to see it once
creates the desire to see it again, so beautiful is it in drawing and
so exquisite in colour and weave. It is suggested that Quentin
Matsys is responsible for the drawing, and it is known that only
Bruges or Brussels could produce such perfection of textile. Indeed,
Jean de Rome is by some authorities spoken of as Jean de Brussels, for
it is there that he worked long and well, assisting to produce those
wonders of textile art that have never been surpassed, not even by the
Gobelins factory in the Seventeenth Century. The tapestry in the
Metropolitan Museum is now the property of J. Pierpont Morgan, Esq.,
but began life as the treasure of the King and Queen of Spain who, at
the time when Brussels was producing its best, were sitting firmly on
a throne but just wrested from the Saracenic occupancy. Spain, while
unable to establish famous and enduring tapestry factories of her own,
yet was known always as a lavish buyer. Later, Cardinal Mazarin, with
his trained Italian eye, detected at once the value of the tapestry
and became possessed of it, counting it among his best treasures of
art. It is a woven representation of the triptych, so favourite in the
time of the Van Eycks, and is almost as rich with gold as those
ancient altar decorations. The tapestry is variously called _The
Kingdom of Heaven_, and _The Adoration of the Eternal Father_ and is
the most beautiful and important of its kind in America. Fortunate
they who can go to the museum to see it--only less fortunate than
those who can go to see it many times.
In the private collection of Martin A. Ryerson, Esq., of Chicago, are
three examples of great perfection. They belonged to the celebrated
art collection of Baron Spitzer, which fact, apart from their beauty,
gives them renown. The first of these (plate facing page 60) is an
appearance of Christ to the Magdalen after the Entombment, and is
Flemish work of late in the Fifteenth Century. It is woven in silk and
gold with infinite skill. With exquisite patience the weaver has
brought out the crowded detail in the distance; indeed, it is this
background, stretching away to the far sky, past the Tomb, beyond
towns and plains of fruited trees to yet more cities set on a hill,
that constitutes the greatest charm of the picture, and which must
have brought hours of happy toil to the inspired weaver.
The second tapestry of Mr. Ryerson's three pieces is also Flemish of
the late Fifteenth Century. (Plate facing page 61.) This small group
of the Holy Family shows at its best the conscientious work of the
time, a time wherein man regarded labour as a means of worshipping his
God. The subject is treated by both artist and weaver with that loving
care which approaches religion. The holy three are all engaged in
holding bunches of grapes, while the Child symbolically spills their
juice into a chalice. Other symbols are found in the book and the
cross-surmounted globe. A background of flat drapery throws into
beautiful relief the inspired faces of the group. Behind this
stretches the miniature landscape, but the foreground is unfretted by
detail, abounding in the repose of the simple surfaces of the garments
of Mother and Child. By a subtle trick of line, St. Joseph is
separated from the holier pair. The border is the familiar
well-balanced Gothic composition of flower, fruit, and leaf, all
placed as though by the hand of Nature. The materials used are silk
and gold, but one might well add that the soul of the weaver also
entered into the fabric.
[Illustration: FLEMISH TAPESTRY, END OF FIFTEENTH CENTURY
Collection of Martin A. Ryerson, Esq., Chicago. Formerly in the
Spitzer Collection]
[Illustration: THE HOLY FAMILY
Flemish Tapestry, end of Fifteenth Century. Collection of Martin
A. Ryerson, Esq., Chicago. Formerly in the Spitzer Collection]
The third piece from the Spitzer collection bears all those marks of
exquisite beauty with which Italy was teeming in the Fifteenth
Century. (Colour plate facing page 82.) Weavers from Brussels went
down into Italy and worked under the direction of Italian artists who
drew the designs. Andrea Mantegna was one of these. The patron of the
industry was the powerful Gonzaga family. This tapestry of _The
Annunciation_ which Mr. Ryerson is so fortunate as to hang in his
collection, is decorated with the arms of the Gonzaga family. The
border of veined marble, the altar of mosaics and fine relief, the
architecture of the outlying baptistry, the wreathed angel, all speak
of Italy in that lovely moment when the Gothic had not been entirely
abandoned and the Renaissance was but an opening bud.
The highest work of painter and weaver--artists both--continued
through thirty or forty years. Pity it is, the time had not been long
enough for more remains of it to have come to us than those that
scantily supply museums. After the Gothic perfection came the great
change made in Flanders by the introduction of the Renaissance.
It came through the excellence of the weavers. It was not the worth of
the artists that brought Brussels its greatest fame, but the humbler
work of its tapissiers. Their lives, their endeavours counted more in
textile art than did the Flemish school of painting. No such weavers
existed in all the world. They were bound together as a guild, had
restrictions and regulations of their own that would shame a trades
union of to-day, and in change of politics had scant consideration
from new powers. But in the end they were the ones to bring fame to
the Brussels workshops.
In 1528 they were banded together by organisation, and from that time
on their work is easily followed and identified. It was in that year
that a law was made compelling weavers--and allowing weavers--to
incorporate into the encompassing galloon of the tapestry the Brussels
Brabant mark of two B's with a shield between. And it was about this
time and later that the celebrated family of weavers named Pannemaker
came into prominence through the talent of Wilhelm de Pannemaker, he
who accompanied the Emperor Charles V on his expedition to Tunis.
This expedition flaunts itself in the set of tapestries now in Madrid.
(Plate facing page 62.) The emperor seems, from our point of view, to
have done it all with dramatic forethought. There was his special
artist on the spot, Jan Vermeyen, to draw the superb cartoons, and
accompanying him was Wilhelm de Pannemaker, the ablest weaver of his
day, to set the loom and thrust the shuttle. Granada was the place
selected for the weaving, and the finest of wool was set aside for it,
besides lavish amounts of silk, and pounds of silver and gold. In
three years, by the help of eighty workmen, Pannemaker completed his
colossal task. Such was the master-weaver of the Sixteenth Century.
[Illustration: CONQUEST OF TUNIS BY CHARLES V (DETAIL)
Cartoon by Jan Vermeyen. Woven by Pannemaker. Royal Collection at
Madrid]
As for Pannemaker's imperial patron, John Addington Symonds
discriminatingly says of him: "Like a gale sweeping across a forest of
trees in blossom, and bearing their fertilising pollen to far distant
trees, the storm of Charles Fifth's army carried far and wide through
Europe the productive energy of the Renaissance."