INLAY AND MOSAIC
There are three kinds of inlay, one where the pattern is incised,
and a plastic filling pressed in, and allowed to harden, on the
principle of a niello; another, where both the piece to be set
in and the background are cut out separately; and a third, where
a number of small bits are fitted together as in a mosaic. The
pavement in Siena is an example of the first process. The second
process is often accomplished with a fine saw, like what is popularly
known as a jig saw, cutting the same pattern in light and dark
wood, one layer over another; the dark can then be set into the
light, and the light in the dark without more than one cutting
for both. The mosaic of small pieces can be seen in any of the
Southern churches, and, indeed, now in nearly every country. It
was the chief wall treatment of the middle ages.
[Illustration: MARBLE INLAY FROM LUCCA]
About the year 764, Maestro Giudetto ornamented the delightful
Church of St. Michele at Lucca. This work, or at least the best of
it, is a procession of various little partly heraldic and partly
grotesque animals, inlaid with white marble on a ground of green
serpentine. They are full of the best expression of mediæval art.
The Lion of Florence, the Hare of Pisa, the Stork of Perugia, the
Dragon of Pistoja, are all to be seen in these simple mosaics,
if one chooses to consider them as such, hardly more than white
silhouettes, and yet full of life and vigour. The effect is that
of a vast piece of lace,--the real cut work of the period. Absurd
little trees, as space fillers, are set in the green and white
marble. Every reader will remember how Ruskin was enthusiastic over
these little creatures, and no one can fail to feel their charm.
The pavements at the Florentine Baptistery and at San Miniato are
interesting examples of inlay in black and white marble. They are
early works, and are the natural forerunners of the marvellous
pavement at Siena, which is the most remarkable of its kind in the
world.
The pavement masters worked in varying methods. The first of these
was the joining together of large flat pieces of marble, cut in
the shapes of the general design, and then outlining on them an
actual black drawing by means of deeply cut channels, filled with
hard black cement. The channels were first cut superficially and
then emphasized and deepened by the use of a drill, in a series
of holes.
[Illustration: DETAIL OF PAVEMENT, BAPTISTERY, FLORENCE]
Later workers used black marbles for the backgrounds, red for the
ground, and white for the figures, sometimes adding touches of
yellow inlay for decorations, jewels, and so forth. Some of the
workers even used gray marble to represent shadows, but this was
very difficult, and those who attempted less chiaroscuro were more
successful from a decorator's point of view.
This work covered centuries. The earliest date of the ornamental
work in Siena is 1369. From 1413 to 1423 Domenico del Coro, a famous
worker in glass and in intarsia, was superintendent of the works. The
beauty and spirit of much of the earlier inlay have been impaired
by restoration, but the whole effect is unique, and on so vast a
scale that one hesitates to criticize it just as one hesitates
to criticize the windows at Gouda.
One compartment of the floor is in genuine mosaic, dating from
1373. The designer is unknown, but the feeling is very Sienese;
Romulus and Remus are seen in their customary relation to the
domesticated wolf, while the symbolical animals of various Italian
cities are arranged in a series of circles around this centrepiece.
One of the most striking designs is that of Absalom, hanging by
his hair. It is in sharp black and white, and the foliage of the
trees is remarkably decorative, rendered with interesting minutiæ.
This is attributed to Pietro del Minella, and was begun in 1447.
A very interesting composition is that of the Parable of the Mote and
the Beam. This is an early work, about 1375; it shows two gentlemen
in the costume of the period, arguing in courtly style, one apparently
declaiming to the other how much better it would be for him if
it were not for the mote in his eye, while from the eye of the
speaker himself extends, at an impossible angle, a huge wedge of
wood, longer than his head, from which he appears to suffer no
inconvenience, and which seems to have defied the laws of gravitation!
The renowned Matteo da Siena worked on the pavement; he designed
the scene of the Massacre of the Innocents--it seems to have been
always his favourite subject. He was apparently of a morbid turn.
In 1505 Pinturicchio was paid for a work on the floor: "To master
Bernardino Pinturicchio, ptr., for his labour in making a cartoon
for the design of Fortune, which is now being made in the Cathedral,
on this 13th day of March, 12 Lires for our said Master Alberto."
The mosaic is in red, black, and white, while other coloured marbles
are introduced in the ornamental parts of the design, several of which
have been renewed. Fortune herself has been restored, also, as have
most of the lower figures in the composition. Her precariousness
is well indicated by her action in resting one foot on a ball, and
the other on an unstable little boat which floats, with broken
mast, by the shore. She holds a sail above her head, so that she
is liable to be swayed by varying winds. The three upper figures
are in a better state of preservation than the others.
[Illustration: DETAIL OF PAVEMENT, SIENA; "FORTUNE," BY PINTURICCHIO]
There was also in France some interest in mosaic during the eleventh
century. At St. Remi in Rheims was a celebrated pavement in which
enamels were used as well as marbles. Among the designs which appeared
on this pavement, which must have positively rivalled Siena in its
glory, was a group of the Seven Arts, as well as numerous Biblical
scenes. It is said that certain bits of valuable stone, like jasper,
were exhibited in marble settings, like "precious stones in a ring."
There were other French pavements, of the eleventh century, which
were similar in their construction, in which terra cotta was employed
for the reds.
"Pietra Dura" was a mosaic laid upon either a thick wood or a marble
foundation. Lapis lazuli, malachite, and jasper were used largely,
as well as bloodstones, onyx, and Rosso Antico. In Florentine Pietra
Dura work, the inlay of two hard and equally cut materials reached
its climax.
Arnolfo del Cambio, who built the Cathedral of Sta. Maria Fiore in
Florence, being its architect from 1294 till 1310, was the first
in that city to use coloured slabs and panels of marble in a sort
of flat mosaic on a vast scale on the outside of buildings. His
example has been extensively followed throughout Italy. The art
of Pietra Dura mosaic began under Cosimo I. who imported it, if
one may use such an expression, from Lombardy. It was used chiefly,
like Gobelins Tapestry, to make very costly presents, otherwise
unprocurable, for grandees and crowned heads. For a long time the
work was a Royal monopoly. There are several interesting examples
in the Pitti Palace, in this case in the form of tables. Flowers,
fruits, shells, and even figures and landscapes have been represented
in this manner.
Six masters of the art of Pietra Dura came from Milan in 1580,
to instruct the Florentines: and a portrait of Cosimo I. was the
first important result of their labours. It was executed by Maestro
Francesco Ferucci. The Medicean Mausoleum in Florence exhibits
magnificent specimens of this craft.
In the time of Ferdinand I. the art was carried by Florentines
to India, where it was used in decorating some of the palaces.
Under Ferdinand II. Pietra Dura reached its climax, there being
in Florence at this time a most noted Frenchman, Luigi Siriès,
who settled in Florence in 1722. He refined the art by ceasing to
use the stone as a pigment in producing pictures, and employing
it for the more legitimate purposes of decoration. Some of the
large tables in the Pitti are his work. Flowers and shells on a
porphyry ground were especially characteristic of Siriès. There was
a famous inlayer of tables, long before this time, named Antonio
Leopardi, who lived from 1450 to 1525.
The inlay of wood has been called marquetry and intarsia, and was
used principally on furniture and choir stalls. Labarte gives the
origin of this art in Italy to the twelfth century. The Guild of
Carpenters in Florence had a branch of Intarsiatura workers, which
included all forms of inlay in wood. It is really more correct
to speak of intarsia when we allude to early Italian work, the
word being derived from "interserere," the Latin for "insert;"
while marquetry originates in France, much later, from "marqueter,"
to mark. Italian wood inlay began in Siena, where one Manuello is
reported to have worked in the Cathedral in 1259. Intarsia was
also made in Orvieto at this time. Vasari did not hold the art in
high estimation, saying that it was practised by "those persons who
possessed more patience than skill in design," and I confess to a
furtive concurrence in Vasari's opinion. He criticizes it a little
illogically, however, when he goes on to say that the "work soon
becomes dark, and is always in danger of perishing from the worms
and by fire," for in these respects it is no more perishable than
any great painting on canvas or panel. Vasari always is a little
extreme, as we know.
The earliest Italian workers took a solid block of wood, chiselled
out a sunken design, and then filled in the depression with other
woods. The only enemy to such work was dampness, which might loosen
the glue, or cause the small thin bits to swell or warp. The glue
was applied always when the surfaces were perfectly clean, and
the whole was pressed, being screwed down on heated metal plates,
that all might dry evenly.
In 1478 there were thirty-four workshops of intarsia makers in
Florence. The personal history of several of the Italian workers
in inlay is still available, and, as it makes a craft seem much
more vital when the names of the craftsmen are known to us, it
will be interesting to glance at a few names of prominent artists
in this branch of work. Bernardo Agnolo and his family are among
them; and Domenico and Giovanni Tasso were wood-carvers who worked
with Michelangelo. Among the "Novelli," there is a quaint tale
called "The Fat Ebony Carver," which is interesting to read in this
connection.
Benedetto da Maiano, one of the "most solemn" workers in intarsia in
Florence, became disgusted with his art after one trying experience,
and ever after turned his attention to other carving. Vasari's
version of the affair is as follows. Benedetto had been making
two beautiful chests, all inlaid most elaborately, and carried
them to the Court of Hungary, to exhibit the workmanship. "When
he had made obeisance to the king, and had been kindly received,
he brought forward his cases and had them unpacked... but it was
then he discovered that the humidity of the sea voyage had softened
the glue to such an extent that when the waxed cloths in which
the coffers had been wrapped were opened, almost all the pieces
were found sticking to them, and so fell to the ground! Whether
Benedetto stood amazed and confounded at such an event, in the
presence of so many nobles, let every one judge for himself."
A famous family of wood inlayers were the del Tasso, who came from
S. Gervasio. One of the brothers, Giambattista, was a wag, and
is said to have wasted much time in amusement and standing about
criticizing the methods of others. He was a friend of Cellini, and
all his cronies pronounce him to have been a good fellow. On one
occasion he had a good dose of the spirit of criticism, himself,
from a visiting abbot, who stopped to see the Medicean tomb, where
Tasso happened to be working. Tasso was requested to show the stranger
about, which he did. The abbot began by depreciating the beauty of
the building, remarking that Michelangelo's figures in the Sacristy
did not interest him, and on his way up the stairs, he chanced to
look out of a window and caught sight of Brunelleschi's dome. When
the dull ecclesiastic began to say that this dome did not merit
the admiration which it raised, the exasperated Tasso, who was
loyal to his friends, could stand no more. Il Lasca recounts what
happened: "Pulling the abbot backward with force, he made him
tumble down the staircase, and he took good care to fall himself
on top of him, and calling out that the frater had been taken mad,
he bound his arms and legs with cords... and then taking him,
hanging over his shoulders, he carried him to a room near,
stretched him on the ground, and left him there in the dark, taking
away the key." We will hope that if Tasso himself was too prone to
criticism, he may have learned a lesson from this didactic monastic,
and was more tolerant in the future.
Of the work of Canozio, a worker of about the same time, Matteo
Colaccio in 1486, writes, "In visiting these intarsiad figures I
was so much taken with the exquisiteness of the work that I could
not withold myself from praising the author to heaven!" He refers
thus ecstatically to the Stalls at St. Antonio at Padua, which
were inlaid by Canozio, assisted by other masters. For his work
in the Church of St. Domenico in Reggio, the contract called for
some curious observances: he was bound by this to buy material
for fifty lire, to work one third of the whole undertaking for
fifty lire, to earn another fifty lire for each succeeding third,
and then to give "forty-eight planks to the Lady," whatever that may
mean! Among the instruments mentioned are: "Two screw profiles: one
outliner: four one-handed little planes: rods for making cornices:
two large squares and one grafonetto: three chisels, one glued and
one all of iron: a pair of big pincers: two little axes: and a bench
to put the tarsia on." Pyrography has its birth in intarsia, where
singeing was sometimes employed as a shading in realistic designs.
In the Study of the Palace at Urbino, there is mention of "arm
chairs encircling a table all mosaicked with tarsia, and carved
by Maestro Giacomo of Florence," a worker of considerable repute.
One of the first to adopt the use of ivory, pearl, and silver for
inlay was Andrea Massari of Siena. In this same way inlay of
tortoise-shell and brass was made,--the two layers were sawed out
together, and then counterchanged so as to give the pattern in
each material upon the other. Cabinets are often treated in this
way. Ivory and sandal-wood or ebony, too, have been sometimes thus
combined. In Spain cabinets were often made of a sort of mosaic of
ebony and silver; in 1574 a Prohibtion was issued against using
silver in this way, since it was becoming scarce.
In De Luna's "Diologos Familiarea," a Spanish work of 1669, the
following conversation is given: "How much has your worship paid
for this cabinet? It is worth more than forty ducats. What wood
is it made of? The red is of mahogany, from Habaña, and the black
is made of ebony, and the white of ivory. You will find the
workmanship excellent." This proves that inlaid cabinets were
usual in Spain.
Ebony being expensive, it was sometimes simulated with stain. An
old fifteenth century recipe says: "Take boxwood and lay in oil
with sulphur for a night, then let it stew for an hour, and it
will become as black as coal." An old Italian book enjoins the
polishing of this imitation ebony as follows: "Is the wood to be
polished with burnt pumice stone? Rub the work carefully with canvas
and this powder, and then wash the piece with Dutch lime water so
that it may be more beautifully polished... then the rind of a
pomegranate must be steeped, and the wood smeared over with it,
and set to dry, but in the shade."
Inlay was often imitated; the elaborate marquetry cabinets in Sta.
Maria della Grazia in Milan which are proudly displayed are in
reality, according to Mr. Russell Sturgis, cleverly painted to
simulate the real inlaid wood. Mr. Hamilton Jackson says that these,
being by Luini, are intended to be known as paintings, but to imitate
intarsia.
Intarsia was made also among the monasteries. The Olivetans practised
this art extensively, and, much as some monasteries had scriptoria
for the production of books, so others had carpenter's shops and
studios where, according to Michele Caffi, they showed "great talent
for working in wood, succeeding to the heirship of the art of tarsia
in coloured woods, which they got from Tuscany." One of the more
important of the Olivetan Monasteries was St. Michele in Bosco, where
the noted worker in tarsia, Fra Raffaello da Brescia, made some
magnificent choir stalls. In 1521 these were finished, but they were
largely destroyed by the mob in the suppression of the convents in
the eighteenth century. In 1812 eighteen of the stalls were saved,
bought by the Marquis Malvezzi, and placed in St. Petronio. He tried
also to save the canopies, but these had been sold for firewood at
about twopence each!
The stalls of St. Domenico at Bologna are by Fra Damiano of Bergamo;
it is said of him that his woods were coloured so marvellously
that the art of tarsia was by him raised to the rank of that of
painting! He was a Dominican monk in Bologna most of his life.
When Charles V. visited the choir of St. Domenico, and saw these
stalls, he would not believe that the work was accomplished by
inlay, and actually cut a piece out with his sword by way of
investigation.
Castiglione the Courtier expresses himself with much admiration
of the work of Fra Damiano, "rather divine than human." Of the
technical perfection of the workmanship he adds: "Though these
works are executed with inlaid pieces, the eye cannot even by the
greatest exertion detect the joints.... I think, indeed, I am certain,
that it will be called the eighth wonder of the world." (Count
Castiglione did not perhaps realize what a wonderful world he lived
in!) But at any rate there is no objection to subscribing to his
eulogy: "All that I could say would be little enough of his rare and
singular virtue, and on the goodness of his religious and holy life."
Another frate who wrote about that time alluded to Fra Damiano as
"putting together woods with so much art that they appear as pictures
painted with the brush."
In Germany there was some interesting intarsia made by the Elfen
Brothers, of St. Michael's in Hildesheim, who produced beautiful
chancel furniture. Hans Stengel of Nüremberg, too, was renowned
in this art.
After the Renaissance marquetry ran riot in France, but that is
out of the province of our present study.
The art of mosaic making has changed very little during the centuries.
Nearly all the technical methods now used were known to the ancients.
In fact, this art is rather an elemental one, and any departure
from old established rules is liable to lead the worker into a
new craft; his art becomes that of the inlayer or the enameller
when he attempts to use larger pieces in cloissons, or to fuse
bits together by any process.
Mosaic is a natural outgrowth from other inlaying; when an elaborate
design had to be set up, quite too complicated to be treated in
tortuously-cut large pieces, the craftsman naturally decided to
render the whole work with small pieces, which demanded less accurate
shaping of each piece. Originally, undoubtedly, each bit of glass or
stone was laid in the soft plaster of wall or floor; but now a more
labour saving method has obtained; it is amusing to watch the modern
rest-cure. Instead of an artist working in square bits of glass to
carry out his design, throwing his interest and personality into the
work, a labourer sits leisurely before a large cartoon, on which he
glues pieces of mosaic the prescribed colour and size, mechanically
fitting them over the design until it is completely covered. Then
this sheet of paper, with the mosaic glued to it, is slapped on to
the plaster wall, having the stones next to the plaster, so that,
until it is dry, all that can be seen is the sheet of paper apparently
fixed on the wall. But lo! the grand transformation! The paper is
washed off, leaving in place the finished product--a very accurate
imitation of the picture on which the artist laboured, all in place in
the wall, every stone evenly set as if it had been polished--entirely
missing the charm of the irregular faceted effect of an old
mosaic--again mechanical facility kills the spirit of an art.
Much early mosaic, known as Cosmati Work, is inlaid into marble,
in geometric designs; twisted columns of this class of work may be
seen in profusion in Rome, and the façade of Orvieto is similarly
decorated. Our illustration will demonstrate the technical process
as well as a description.
The mosaic base of Edward the Confessor's shrine is inscribed to
the effect that it was wrought by Peter of Rome. It was a dignified
specimen of the best Cosmati. All the gold glass which once played
its part in the scheme of decoration has been picked out, and in
fact most of the pieces in the pattern are missing.
[Illustration: AMBO AT RAVELLO; SPECIMEN OF COSMATI MOSAIC]
The mosaic pavement in Westminster Abbey Presbytery is as fine
an example of Roman Cosmati mosaic as one can see north of the
Alps. An inscription, almost obliterated, is interpreted by Mr.
Lethaby as signifying, that in the year 1268 "Henry III. being
King, and Odericus the cementarius, Richard de Ware, Abbot, brought
the porphyry and divers jaspers and marbles of Thaso from Rome." In
another place a sort of enigma, drawn from an arbitrary combination
of animal forms and numbers, marks a chart for determining the end
of the world! There is also a beautiful mosaic tomb at Westminster,
inlaid with an interlacing pattern in a ground of marble, like the
work so usual in Rome, and in Palermo, and other Southern centres
of the art.
While the material used in mosaic wall decoration is sometimes a
natural product, like marble, porphyry, coral, or alabaster, the
picture is composed for the most part of artificially prepared
smalts--opaque glass of various colours, made in sheets and then
cut up into cubes. An infinite variety in gradations of colour
and texture is thus made possible.
The gold grounds which one sees in nearly all mosaics are constructed
in an interesting way. Each cube is composed of plain rather coarse
glass, of a greenish tinge, upon which is laid gold leaf. Over
this leaf is another film of glass, extremely thin, so that the
actual metal is isolated between two glasses, and is thus impervious
to such qualities in the air as would tarnish it or cause it to
deteriorate. To prevent an uninteresting evenness of surface on
which the sun's rays would glint in a trying manner, it was usual
to lay the gold cubes in a slightly irregular manner, so that
each facet, as it were, should reflect at a different angle,
and the texture, especially in the gold grounds, never became
monotonous. One does not realize the importance of this custom
until one sees a cheap modern mosaic laid absolutely flat, and then
it is evident how necessary this broken surface is to good effect.
Any one who has tried to analyze the reason for the superiority of
old French stained glass over any other, will be surprised, if
he goes close to the wall, under one of the marvellous windows
of Chartres, for instance, and looks up, to see that the whole
fabric is warped and bent at a thousand angles,--it is not only
the quality of the ancient glass, nor its colour, that gives this
unattainable expression to these windows, but the accidental warping
and wear of centuries have laid each bit of glass at a different
angle, so that the refraction of the light is quite different from
any possible reflection on the smooth surface of a modern window.
The dangers of a clear gold ground were, felt more fully by the
workers at Ravenna and Rome, than in Venice. Architectural schemes
were introduced to break up the surface: clouds and backgrounds,
fields of flowers, and trees, and such devices, were used to prevent
the monotony of the unbroken glint. But in Venice the decorators
were brave; their faith in their material was unbounded, and they
not only frankly laid gold in enormous masses on flat wall and
cupola, but they even moulded the edges and archivolts without
separate ribs or strips to relieve them; the gold is carried all
over the edges, which are rounded into curves to receive the mosaic,
so that the effect is that of the entire upper part of the church
having been _pressed_ into shape out of solid gold. The lights on
these rounded edges are incomparably rich.
It is equally important to vary the plain values of the colour,
and this was accomplished by means of dilution and contrast in
tints instead of by unevenness of surface, although in many of the
most satisfactory mosaics, both means have been employed. Plain
tints in mosaic can be relieved in a most delightful way by the
introduction of little separate cubes of unrelated colour, and
the artist who best understands this use of mass and dot is the
best maker of mosaic. The actual craft of construction is similar
everywhere, but the use of what we may regard as the pigment has
possibilities similar to the colours of a painter. The manipulation
being of necessity slow, it is more difficult to convey the idea
of spontaneity in design than it is in a fresco painting.
To follow briefly the history of mosaic as used in the Dark Ages,
the Middle Ages, and the period of the Renaissance, it is interesting
to note that by the fourth century mosaic was the principal decoration
in ecclesiastical buildings. Contantine employed this art very
extensively. Of his period, however, few examples remain. The most
notable is the little church of Sta. Constanza, the vaults of which
are ornamented in this way, with a fine running pattern of vines,
interspersed with figures on a small scale. The Libel Pontificalis
tells how Constantine built the Basilica of St. Agnese at the request
of his daughter, and also a baptistery in the same place, where
Constance was baptized, by Bishop Sylvester.
Among the most interesting early mosaics is the apse of the Church
of St. Pudentiana in Rome. Barbet de Jouy, who has written extensively
on this mosaic, considers it to be an eighth century achievement.
But a later archæologist, M. Rossi, believes it to have been made
in the fourth century, in which theory he is upheld by M. Vitet. The
design is that of a company of saints gathered about the Throne on
which God the Father sits to pass judgment. In certain restorations
and alterations made in 1588 two of these figures were cut away, and
the lower halves of those remaining were also removed, so that the
figures are now only half length. The faces and figures are drawn
in a very striking manner, being realistic and full of graceful
action, very different from the mosaics of a later period, which
were dominated by Byzantine tradition.
In France were many specimens of the mosaics of the fifth century.
But literary descriptions are all that have survived of these works,
which might once have been seen at Nantes, Tours, and Clermont.
[Illustration: MOSAIC FROM RAVENNA; THEODORA AND HER SUITE, 16TH
CENTURY]
Ravenna is the shrine of the craft in the fifth and sixth centuries.
It is useless in so small a space to attempt to describe or do
justice to these incomparable walls, where gleam the marvellous
procession of white robed virgins, and where glitters the royal
cortège of Justinian and Theodora. The acme of the art was reached
when these mural decorations were planned and executed, and the
churches of Ravenna may be considered the central museum of the
world for a study of mosaic.
Among those who worked at Ravenna a few names have descended. These
craftsmen were, Cuserius, Paulus, Janus, Statius and Stephanus,
but their histories are vague. Theodoric also brought some mosaic
artists from Rome to work in Ravenna, which fact accounts for a
Latin influence discernible in these mosaics, which are in many
instances free from Byzantine stiffness. The details of the textiles
in the great mosaics of Justinian and Theodora are rarely beautiful.
The chlamys with which Justinian is garbed is covered with circular
interlaces with birds in them; on the border of the Empress's robe
are embroideries of the three Magi presenting their gifts; on one
of the robes of the attendants there is a pattern of ducks swimming,
while another is ornamented with leaves of a five-pointed form.
There is a mosaic in the Tomb of Galla Placida in Ravenna, representing
St. Lawrence, cheerfully approaching his gridiron, with the Cross
and an open book encumbering his hands, while in a convenient corner
stands a little piece of furniture resembling a meat-safe, containing
the Four Gospels. The saint is walking briskly, and is fully draped;
the gridiron is of the proportions of a cot bedstead, and has a raging
fire beneath it,--a gruesome suggestion of the martyrdom.
No finer examples of the art of the colourist in mosaic can be
seen than in the procession of Virgins at San Apollinaire Nuovo
in Ravenna. Cool, restrained, and satisfying, the composition has
all the elements of chromatic perfection. In the golden background
occasional dots of light and dark brown serve to deepen the tone
into a slightly bronze colour. The effect is especially scintillating
and rich, more like hammered gold than a flat sheet. The colours
in the trees are dark and light green, while the Virgins, in brown
robes, with white draperies over them, are relieved with little
touches of gold. The whole tone being thus green and russet, with
purplish lines about the halos, is an unusual colour-scheme, and
can hardly carry such conviction in a description as when it is
seen.
In the East, the Church of Sta. Sophia at Constantinople exhibited
the most magnificent specimens of this work; the building was
constructed under Constantine, by the architects Anthemius and
Isidore, and the entire interior, walls and dome included, was covered
by mosaic pictures.
Among important works of the seventh century is the apse of St.
Agnese, in Rome. Honorius decorated the church, about 630, and it
is one of the most effective mosaics in Rome. At St. John Lateran,
also, Pope John IV. caused a splendid work to be carried out,
which has been reported as being as "brilliant as the sacred waters."
In the eighth century a magnificent achievement was accomplished
in the monastery of Centula, in Picardie, but all traces of this
have been lost, for the convent was burnt in 1131. The eighth was
not an active century for the arts, for in 726 Leo's edict was sent
forth, prohibiting all forms of image worship, and at a Council
at Constantinople in 754 it was decided that all iconographic
representation and all use of symbols (except in the Sacrament) were
blasphemous. Idolatrous monuments were destroyed, and the iconoclasts
continued their devastations until the death of Theophilus in 842.
Fortunately this wave of zeal was checked before the destruction of
the mosaics in Ravenna and Rome, but very few specimens survived
in France.
In the ninth century a great many important monuments were added,
and a majority of the mosaics which may still be seen, date from
that time: they are not first in quality, however, although they
are more numerous. After this, there was a period of inanition,
in this art as in all others, while the pseudo-prophets awaited
the ending of the world. After the year 1000 had passed, and the
astonished people found that they were still alive, and that the
world appeared as stable as formerly, interest began to revive,
and the new birth of art produced some significant examples in the
field of mosaic. There was some activity in Germany, for a time,
the versatile Bishop Bernward of Hildesheim adding this craft to
his numerous accomplishments, although it is probable that his
works resembled the graffiti and inlaid work rather than the
mosaics composed of cubes of smalt.
At the Monastery of Monte Cassino in the eleventh century was an
interesting personality,--the Abbé Didier, its Superior. About
1066 he brought workers from Constantinople, who decorated the apse
and walls of the basilica under his direction. At the same time,
he established a school at the monastery, and the young members
were instructed in the arts and crafts of mosaic and inlay, and
the illumination of books. Greek influence was thus carried into
Italy through Monte Cassino.
In the twelfth century the celebrated Suger of St. Denis decorated
one of the porches of his church with mosaic, in smalt, marbles,
and gold; animal and human forms were introduced in the ornament.
But this may not have been work actually executed on the spot,
for another narrator tells us that Suger brought home from Italy,
on one of his journeys, a mosaic, which was placed over the door
at St. Denis; as it is no longer in its position, it is not easy
to determine which account is correct.
The mosaics at St. Mark's in Venice were chiefly the work of two
centuries and a half. Greek artists were employed in the main,
bringing their own tesseræ and marbles. In 1204 there was special
activity in this line, at the time when the Venetians took
Constantinople. After this, an establishment for making the smalts
and gold glass was set up at Murano, and Venice no longer imported
its material.
The old Cathedral at Torcello has one of the most perfect examples
of the twelfth century mosaic in the world. The entire west end of
the church is covered with a rich display of figures and Scriptural
scenes. A very lurid Hell is exhibited at the lower corner, in the
depths of which are seen stewing, several Saracens, with large
hoop earrings. Their faces are highly expressive of discomfort.
This mosaic is full of genuine feeling; one of the subjects is
Amphitrite riding a seahorse, among those who rise to the surface
when "the sea gives up its dead." The Redeemed are seen crowding
round Abraham, who holds one in his bosom; they are like an infant
class, and are dressed in uniform pinafores, intended to look like
little ecclesiastical vestments! The Dead who are being given up by
the Earth are being vomited forth by wild animals--this is original,
and I believe, almost the only occasion on which this form of literal
resurrection is represented.
In the thirteenth century a large number of mosaic artists appeared
in Florence, many of whose names and histories are available. In the
Baptistery, Andrea Tafi, who lived between 1213 and 1294, decorated the
cupola. With him were two assistants who are known by name--Apollonius
a Greek, which in part accounts for the stiff Byzantine figures in
this work, and another who has left his signature, "Jacobus Sancti
Francisci Frater"--evidently a monastic craftsman. Gaddo Gaddi
also assisted in this work, executing the Prophets which occur
under the windows, and professing to combine in his style "the
Greek manner and that of Cimabue." Apollonius taught Andrea Tafi
how to compose the smalt and to mix the cement, but this latter
was evidently unsuccessful, for in the next century the mosaic
detached itself and fell badly, when Agnolo Gaddi, the grandson
of Gaddo, was engaged to restore it. Tafi, Gaddi, and Jacobus were
considered as a promising firm, and they undertook other large works
in mosaic. They commenced the apse at Pisa, which was finished
in 1321 by Vicini, Cimabue designing the colossal figure of Christ
which thus dominates the cathedral.
Vasari says that Andrea Tafi was considered "an excellent, nay,
a divine artist" in his specialty. Andrea, himself more modest,
visited Venice, and deigned to take instruction from Greek mosaic
workers, who were employed at St. Mark's. One of them, Apollonius,
became attached to Tafi, and this is how he came to accompany him
to Florence. The work on the Baptistery was done actually _in situ_,
every cube being set directly in the plaster. The work is still
extant, and the technical and constructive features are perfect,
since their restoration. It is amusing to read Vasari's patronizing
account of Tafi; from the late Renaissance point of view, the mosaic
worker seemed to be a barbarous Goth at best: "The good fortune
of Andrea was really great," says Vasari, "to be born in an age
which, doing all things in the rudest manner, could value so highly
the works of an artist who really merited so little, not to say
nothing!"
Gaddo Gaddi was a painstaking worker in mosaic, executing some
works on a small scale entirely in eggshells of varying tints. In
the Baroncelli chapel in Florence is a painting by Taddeo Gaddi,
in which occur the portraits of his father, Gaddo Gaddi, and Andrea
Tafi.
About this time the delightful mosaic at St. Clemente, in Rome,
was executed. With its central cross and graceful vine decorations,
it stands out unique among the groups of saints and seraphs, of
angels and hierarchies, of most of the Roman apsidal ornaments. The
mosaic in the basilica of St. John Lateran is by Jacopo Torriti.
In the design there are two inconspicuous figures, intentionally
smaller than the others, of two monks on their knees, working,
with measure and compass. These represent Jacopo Torriti and his
co-worker, Camerino. One of them is inscribed (translated) "Jacopo
Torriti, painter, did this work," and the other, "Brother Jacopo
Camerino, companion of the master worker, commends himself to the
blessed John." The tools and implements used by mosaic artists are
represented in the hands of these two monks. Torriti was apparently
a greater man in some respects than his contemporaries. He based his
art rather on Roman than Greek tradition, and his works exhibit
less Byzantine formality than many mosaics of the period. On
the apse of Sta. Maria Maggiore there appears a signature, "Jacopo
Torriti made this work in mosaic." Gaddo Gaddi also added a composition
below the vault, about 1308.
The well-known mosaic called the Navicella in the atrium of St.
Peter's, Rome, was originally made by Giotto. It has been much
restored and altered, but some of the original design undoubtedly
remains. Giotto went to Rome to undertake this work in 1298; but the
present mosaic is largely the restoration of Bernini, who can hardly
be considered as a sympathetic interpreter of the early Florentine
style. Vasari speaks of the Navicella as "a truly wonderful work,
and deservedly eulogized by all enlightened judges." He marvels
at the way in which Giotto has produced harmony and interchange of
light and shade so cleverly: "with mere pieces of glass" (Vasari
is so naïvely overwhelmed with ignorance when he comes to deal
with handicraft) especially on the large sail of the boat.
In Venice, the Mascoli chapel was ornamented by scenes from the
life of the Virgin, in 1430. The artist was Michele Zambono, who
designed and superintended the work himself. At Or San Michele in
Florence, the painter Peselli, or Guliano Arrigo, decorated the
tabernacle, in 1416. Among other artists who entered the field of
mosaic, were Baldovinetti and Domenico Ghirlandajo, the painter who
originated the motto: "The only painting for eternity is mosaic."
In the sixteenth century the art of mosaic ceased to
observe due limitations. The ideal was to reproduce exactly in
mosaic such pictures as were prepared by Titian, Pordenone, Raphael,
and other realistic painters. Georges Sand, in her charming novel,
"Les Maitres Mosaïstes," gives one the atmosphere of the workshops
in Venice in this later period. Tintoretto and Zuccato, the aged
painter, are discussing the durability of mosaic:--"Since it resists
so well," says Zuccato, "how comes it that the Seignory is repairing
all the domes of St. Mark's, which to-day are as bare as my skull?"
To which Tintoretto makes answer: "Because at the time when they
were decorated with mosaics, Greek artists were scarce in Venice.
They came from a distance, and remained but a short time: their
apprentices were hastily trained, and executed the works entrusted
to them without knowing their business, and without being able
to give them the necessary solidity. Now that this art has been
cultivated in Venice, century after century, we have become as
skilful as even the Greeks were." The two sons of Zuccato, who
are engaged in this work, confide to each other their trials and
difficulties in the undertaking: like artists of all ages, they
cannot easily convince their patrons that they comprehend their art
better than their employers! Francesco complains of the Procurator,
who is commissioned to examine the work: "He is not an artist.
He sees in mosaic only an application of particles more or less
brilliant. Perfection of tone, beauty of design, ingenuity of
composition, are nothing to him.... Did I not try in vain the
other day to make him understand that the old pieces of gilded
crystal used by our ancestors and a little tarnished by time,
were more favourable to colour than those manufactured to-day?"
"Indeed, you make a mistake, Messer Francesco," said he, "in
handing over to the Bianchini all the gold of modern manufacture.
The Commissioners have decided that the old will do mixed with
the new."... "But did I not in vain try to make him understand
that this brilliant gold would hurt the faces, and completely ruin
the effect of colour?"... The answer of the Procurator was, "The
Bianchini do not scruple to use it, and their mosaics please the
eye much better than yours," so his brother Valerio, laughing,
asks, "What need of worrying yourself after such a decision as
that? Suppress the shadows, cut a breadth of material from a great
plate of enamel and lay it over the breast of St. Nicaise, render
St. Cecilia's beautiful hair with a badly cut tile, a pretty lamb
for St. John the Baptist, and the Commission will double your salary
and the public clap its hands. Really, my brother, you who dream
of glory, I do not understand how you can pledge yourself to the
worship of art." "I dream of glory, it is true," replied Francesco,
"but of a glory that is lasting, not the vain popularity of a day.
I should like to leave an honoured name, if not an illustrious
one, and make those who examine the cupolas of St. Mark's five
hundred years hence say, 'This was the work of a conscientious
artist.'" A description follows of the scene of the mosaic workers
pursuing their calling. "Here was heard abusive language, there
the joyous song; further on, the jest; above, the hammer: below,
the trowel: now the dull and continuous thud of the tampon on the
mosaics, and anon the clear and crystal like clicking of the glassware
rolling from the baskets on to the pavement, in waves of rubies and
emeralds. Then the fearful grating of the scraper on the cornice,
and finally the sharp rasping cry of the saw in the marble, to say
nothing of the low masses said at the end of the chapel in spite
of the racket."
[Illustration: MOSAIC IN BAS-RELIEF, NAPLES]
The Zuccati were very independent skilled workmen, as well as being
able to design their own subjects. They were, in the judgment of
Georges Sand, superior to another of the masters in charge of the
works, Bozza, who was less of a man, although an artist of some
merit. Later than these men, there were few mosaic workers of high
standing; in Florence the art degenerated into a mere decorative
inlay of semi-precious material, heraldic in feeling, costly and
decorative, but an entirely different art from that of the Greeks
and Romans. Lapis-lazuli with gold veinings, malachite, coral,
alabaster, and rare marbles superseded the smalts and gold of an
elder day.