in the _Alcuin Bible_, a Carolingian manuscript of the ninth
century; but to any one interested in printing, this huge volume
at the British Museum cannot be overlooked. In the eighth century
the Irish and Anglo-Saxon missionary artists transplanted their
work to their settlements on the Continent, out of which sprang the
Carolingian School in France,--so named in honor of Charlemagne. Sacred
compositions, derived largely from Latin and Byzantine sources, were
now added to the highly ornamental letters. Solid backgrounds were
abandoned, and handsome architectural designs were used to frame the
miniatures.
If you will examine the _Alcuin Bible_ with me, you will note
what a tremendous advance has been made. The manuscript is a copy
of the Vulgate said to be revised and amended by Alcuin of York to
present to Charlemagne on the occasion of that monarch’s coronation.
Some dispute this tradition altogether; some claim that a similar
Bible, now in Rome, is entitled to the honor; but the controversy does
not detract from the interest in the book itself. This Alcuin of York
was the instrument of Charlemagne in establishing the reform in hand
lettering, which has been of the utmost importance in the history of
printing. Starting with the foundation of the School of Tours in 796,
the _minuscule_, or lower-case letter, which is the basis of our
modern styles, superseded all other forms of hand lettering. By the
twelfth century the clear, free-flowing form that developed from the
Caroline minuscule was the most beautiful hand ever developed, and was
never surpassed until the humanistic scribes of the fifteenth century
took it in its Italian form as their model and perfected it.
The volume is a large quarto, 20 by 14¼ inches in size, splendidly
written in double column in minuscule characters with uncial initials
(_opp. page_). There are four full-page illuminations, and many
smaller miniatures, with characteristic architectural detail that show
Roman influence, while the decorations themselves are reminiscent of
the Byzantine and the Celtic Schools.
[Illustration: ALCUIN BIBLE. _Carolingian_, 9th Century
_Showing the Caroline Minuscule_
(Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 10546. 20 × 14¼ inches)]
It is the hand lettering rather than the illumination or the decoration
that particularly interests me. When I first began my work in
designing my Humanistic type, I was amazed that the humanistic scribes
of the fifteenth century, upon whose letters I based my own, could have
so suddenly taken such a stride forward. The mere fact that there was a
greater demand for their work did not seem to explain the phenomenon.
Then I discovered that these fifteenth-century artists, instead of
adapting or copying the Caroline minuscule, set about to perfect it.
They mastered the principles upon which it was based, and with the
technical advantages that had come to them through the intervening
centuries, brought the design to its fullest beauty.
* * * * *
To supplement my study of the _Alcuin Bible_, I turn to the
masterpiece of the Carolingian School in the Bibliothèque Nationale
in Paris. _The Golden Gospels of Saint Médard_ belongs to the
same period as the _Alcuin Bible_, and its hand letters are of
the same beautiful design, but more brilliant in that they are written
throughout in gold. In spite of the crude and unnatural figures, I am
always impressed with a feeling that the artist is, for the first time,
making a definite effort to break away from past tradition toward more
natural design. The Byzantine atmosphere still clings to the work as a
whole (_opp. page_), but in the frames and the backgrounds there
is an echo of the ivory carving and the architecture of the new Church
of San Vitale at Ravenna, and the powerful influence of the early
Christian symbolism asserts itself in the miniatures.
[Illustration: GOLDEN GOSPELS OF ST. MÉDARD.
_Carolingian_, 9th Century
(Bibl. Nat. MS. Lat. 8850. 12 × 7½ inches)]
The hand-lettered pages are enclosed in plain borders of green or red
tint, with outside rules of gold. Each picture page covers the entire
leaf. Every now and then, superimposed upon the solid background of the
margins, are tiny figures so far superior in freedom of design to the
major subjects as to make one wonder why the more pretentious efforts
are not farther advanced than they are. Yet why should we be surprised
that an artist, under the influence of centuries of precedent and the
ever-present aversion to change, should move slowly in expressing
originality? As it is, the pages of _Saint Médard_ give us for the
first time motivation for the glorious development of the art to come
in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
* * * * *
The rise of Gothic influence forms the great dividing line between the
old, or ecclesiastic, and the new, or naturalistic, spirit in monastic
art. The _Psalter of Saint Louis_, a Gothic manuscript of the
thirteenth century, in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, is an
example of this transition that I like to study.
By the beginning of the thirteenth century the initial--which in the
Celtic style had dominated the entire page--was losing its supremacy,
becoming simply one factor in the general scheme. A delicate fringe
work or filigree of pen flourishes, which had sprung up around the
initial as it became reduced in size, was later to be converted into a
tendril or cylindrical stem, bearing a succession of five leaves and
leaflets of ivy, usually entirely filled with burnished gold. Small
figures, and, later, groups of figures, take the place of the linear
ornament in the interior of the letter, and calligraphy and miniature
painting become successfully fused. An exact date cannot be assigned,
as it was the result of a slow and gradual growth.
From certain references made in the Calendar pages of the
_Psalter_, it is evident that the manuscript was copied and
illuminated between the year 1252, when Queen Blanche of Castile died,
and the death of Saint Louis in 1270. What a story this book could
tell! Written in French in red ink on one of the front end leaves is
this inscription:
_This Psalter of Saint Louis was given by Queen Jeanne d’Evreux
to King Charles, son of King John, in the year of our Master,
1369; and the present King Charles, son of the said King
Charles, gave it to Madame Marie of France, his daughter, a nun
at Poissy, on Saint Michel’s Day, in the year 1400_
The _Psalter_ contains 260 leaves of parchment, 8½ by 6 inches.
Of these, seventy-eight are small, beautiful miniatures, depicting the
principal scenes in the early books of the Old Testament, and eight are
illustrations to the Psalms (_page 132_), the remaining leaves
being occupied by the text. In these miniatures is shown a refinement
and delicacy of treatment combined with unusual freedom in execution.
Here is one of the best examples of the reflection of the stained-glass
windows of the Gothic cathedrals (_opp. page_), to which reference
has already been made. There is no shading whatever. The body color is
laid on the design in flat tints, finished by strokes of the pen.
[Illustration: PSALTER OF SAINT LOUIS. _Gothic_, 13th Century
_Abraham and Isaac_
(Bibl. Nat. MS. Lat. 10525. 8½ × 6 inches)]
[Illustration: PSALTER OF SAINT LOUIS. _Gothic_, 13th Century
_Psalms_ lxviii. 1-3
(Bibl. Nat. MS. Lat. 10525. 8½ × 6 inches)]
All this is interesting because this period marks the end of the
needless limitations illuminators placed upon themselves. Working on
vellum as a medium instead of in glass with lead outlines, should be a
much simpler operation! Still, one can’t help reveling in the bright
scarlet and the rich blue of the stained glass, and would be loath to
give it up.
The volume is bound in old boards, covered with blue and rose material
embossed with silver and reinforced with velvet. The clasps are gone.
* * * * *
The style of illumination in the thirteenth century shows no distinct
national characteristics, for, even in England, some of the work was
executed by French artists. The initial is usually set within a frame
shaped to its outline, the ground being either of gold, slightly raised
or burnished, or of color, especially dark blue and pale tints of
salmon, gray, or violet, sometimes edged with gold.
_Queen Mary’s Psalter_, a superb example of the English School in
the early fourteenth century, is a landmark in our pilgrimage because,
in addition to its surpassing beauty, it is an example of illumination
sought for its own artistic value instead of being associated wholly
with devotional manuscripts. No one can examine the charming series
of little tinted drawings in the margins of the Litany without being
convinced that the artist, whoever he may have been, was quite familiar
with the world outside the Church (see _frontispiece_).
The earliest note of ownership in this manuscript is of the sixteenth
century:
_This boke was sume tyme the Erle of Rutelands, and it was his
wil that it shulde by successioun all way go to the lande
of Ruteland or to him that linyally suceedes by reson of
inheritaunce in the saide lande._
How fascinating these records are, made by different hands as the
precious manuscripts are passed on down the ages! Even though we have
no absolute knowledge of which Rutland is meant, an added personality
is given to the pages we are now permitted to turn and to admire. In
this manuscript there is also a second note, written in Latin on the
fly leaf at the end, paying a tribute to a certain Baldwin Smith, “an
honest customs officer,” who frustrated an attempt to ship the volume
out of England, and presented it to Queen Mary. It is now in the
British Museum.
Whether or not this was Queen Mary’s first acquaintance with the
manuscript is not known, but from the binding she put on it she surely
considered it a highly prized personal possession. It would naturally
be of special interest to her because of its connection with the old
liturgy she was so anxious to restore. The silver-gilt clasp fittings
are missing now. The crimson velvet with the pomegranate, the Queen’s
badge, worked in colored silks and gold thread on each cover, are
worn and shabby; but on the corner plates the engraved lion, dragon,
portcullis, and fleur-de-lys of the Tudors are still triumphant.
The manuscript, executed upon thin vellum, and consisting of 320 leaves
about 11 by 7 inches, opens with a series of 228 pen and ink drawings.
In most cases there are two designs on each page, illustrating Bible
history from the Creation down to the death of Solomon (_page
134_). With the drawings is a running description in French,
sometimes in prose, sometimes in rhyme, which in itself is interesting,
as the story does not always confine itself strictly to the Biblical
records but occasionally embodies apocryphal details.
The drawings themselves are exquisite, and in the skill of execution
mark another tremendous advance in the art of illumination. They are
delicately tinted with violet, green, red, and brown. The frame is a
plain band of vermilion, from each corner of which is extended a stem
with three leaves tinted with green or violet.
Following the series of drawings comes a full page showing the Tree of
Jesse, and three other full pages depicting the Saints,--one page of
four compartments and two of six. The text, from this point, represents
the usual form of the liturgical Psalter, the Psalms being preceded
by a Calendar, two pages to a month, and followed by the Canticles,
including the Athanasian Creed, and then by the Litany. In the Psalter,
the miniatures show incidents from the life of Christ; the Canticles
depict scenes from the Passion; while in the Litany are miniatures
of the Saints and Martyrs. The initials themselves are elaborate,
many containing small miniatures, and all lighted up with brilliant
colors and burnished gold. In the Litany, in addition to the religious
subjects, there are splendid little scenes of every-day life painted
in the lower margins which make the manuscript unique,--illustrations
of the Bestiary, tilting and hunting scenes, sports and pastimes,
grotesque figures and combats, dancers and musicians. The manuscript
ends with the Miracles of the Virgin and the Lives and Passions of the
Saints.
In _Queen Mary’s Psalter_, and in manuscripts from this period
to those of the sixteenth century, we find ourselves reveling in
sheer beauty. “Why not have started here?” asks my reader. Perhaps we
should have done so; but this is a record not of what I ought to do,
but of what I’ve done! To see one beautiful manuscript after another,
without being able to recognize what makes each one different and
significant, would take away my pleasure, for the riotous colors and
gold would merge one into another. Is it not true that there comes
greater enjoyment in better understanding? We admire what we may not
understand, but without understanding there can be no complete
appreciation. In this case, familiarity breeds content!
[Illustration: QUEEN MARY’S PSALTER. _English_, 14th Century
_From the Life of Joseph_
(Brit. Mus. Royal MS. 2B vii. 11 × 7 inches)]
* * * * *
After studying the best of fourteenth-century English illumination in
_Queen Mary’s Psalter_, I like to turn to the _Bedford Book of
Hours_, to make comparison with one of the most beautiful French
manuscripts of a century later. This is also at the British Museum,
so in the brief space of time required by the attendant to change the
volumes on the rack in front of me, I am face to face with the romance
and the beauty of another famous volume, which stands as a memorial of
English domination in France.
Fashions change in illuminated manuscripts, as in all else, and books
of hours were now beginning to be the vogue in place of psalters. This
one was written and decorated for John, Duke of Bedford, son of Henry
IV, and was probably a wedding gift to Anne, his wife. This marriage,
it will be remembered, was intended to strengthen the English alliance
with Anne’s brother, Philip of Burgundy. On the blank page on the back
of the Duke’s portrait is a record in Latin, made by John Somerset,
the King’s physician, to the effect that on Christmas Eve, 1430, the
Duchess, with her husband’s consent, presented the manuscript to the
young King Henry VI, who was then at Rouen, on his way to be crowned
at Paris. Such notes, made in these later illuminated volumes, are
interesting as far as they go, but there is so much left unsaid! In
the present instance, how came the manuscript, a hundred years later,
in the possession of Henri II and Catherine de’ Medici, of France?
After being thus located, where was it for the next hundred years,
before it was purchased by Edward Harley, 2d Earl of Oxford, from Sir
Robert Worsley’s widow, to be presented to his daughter, the Duchess
of Portland? These are questions that naturally arise in one’s mind
as he turns the gorgeous pages, for it seems incredible that such
beauty could remain hidden for such long periods. Now, happily, through
purchase in 1852, the manuscript has reached its final resting place.
[Illustration: BEDFORD BOOK OF HOURS. _French_, 15th Century
_Showing one of the superb Miniature Pages_
(Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 18850. 10¼ × 7¼ inches)]
Like other books of hours, the _Bedford_ opens with the Calendar
pages, combining the signs of the Zodiac with beautifully executed
scenes typical of each month. Then follow four full-page designs
showing the Creation and Fall, the Building of the Ark, the Exit from
the Ark, and the Tower of Babel. The Sequences of the Gospels come
next; then the Hours of the Virgin, with Penitential Psalms and Litany;
the Shorter Hours; the Vigils of the Dead; the Fifteen Joys; the
Hours of the Passion; the Memorials of the Saints; and various Prayers.
Throughout the 289 leaves, a little larger than 10 by 7 inches, are
thirty-eight full-page miniatures that are masterpieces,--particularly
the Annunciation, with which the Hours of the Virgin begin. Every page
of text is surrounded by a magnificent border, rich in colors and
gold, with foliage and birds, and with the daintiest little miniatures
imaginable. While these borders are based upon the ivy-leaf pattern,
it resembles the style that carries the illumination through the leaf,
bud, and flower up to the fruit itself, which one associates more with
the Flemish than the French School. The work is really a combination
of the French and Flemish Schools, but is essentially French in its
conception and execution.
It was the custom, in these specially created manuscripts, to
immortalize the heads of the family by including them with other,
and, perhaps in some cases, more religious subjects. In this _Book
of Hours_, the Duke of Bedford is depicted, clad in a long,
fur-lined gown of cloth-of-gold, kneeling before Saint George, and the
portrait is so fine that it has been frequently copied. The page which
perpetuates the Duchess is reproduced here (at _page 136_). Clad
in a sumptuous gown of cloth-of-gold, lined with ermine, she kneels
before Saint Anne; her elaborate head-dress supports an artificial
coiffure, rich in jewels; on her long train, her two favorite dogs are
playing. The Saint is clad in a grey gown, with blue mantle and white
veil, with an open book in front of her. At her left stands the Virgin
in white, with jeweled crown, and the infant Christ, in grey robe. His
mother has thrown her arm affectionately about Him, while He, in turn,
beams on the kneeling Duchess. In His hand He carries an orb surmounted
by a cross. Saint Joseph stands at the right of the background, and
four angels may be seen with musical instruments, appearing above the
arras, on which is stamped the device and motto of the Duchess.
Surrounding the miniature, worked into the border, in addition to
the Duke’s shield and arms, are exquisite smaller pictures, in
architectural backgrounds, showing Saint Anne’s three husbands and her
sons-in-law. The pages must be seen in their full color, and in their
original setting, to be appreciated.
The manuscript is bound in red velvet, with silver-gilt clasps, bearing
the Harley and the Cavendish arms, and dates back to the time of the
Earl of Oxford.
[Illustration: ANTIQUITIES OF THE JEWS. _French Renaissance_, 15th
Century
_Cyrus permits the Jews to return to their own Country, and to rebuild
the Temple of Jerusalem_
(Bibl. Nat. MS. Français 247. 16¼ × 11½ inches)]
In the _Antiquities of the Jews_, Jean Foucquet’s masterpiece at
the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, we find the French Renaissance
School. This manuscript interests me for several and different reasons.
In the first place, Foucquet was one of the founders of the French
School of painting, and had his masterpieces been painted on canvas
instead of on vellum, his name would have been much more familiar
to art lovers than it is today. The high degree attained by the art
at Tours, which had become the center of the Renaissance in France,
demanded a setting for the miniatures different from the Flemish type
of decoration that had so dominated illumination in general. This it
found in the Italian style, which at that time was first attaining its
glory.
The book itself was originally bound in two volumes, being a
French translation by an unknown writer of Flavius Josephus’
_Antiquities_ and _War of the Jews_, the subject being the
clemency of Cyrus toward the captive Jews in Babylon. It is in folio
(a little larger than 16 by 11 inches), written in double column, and
contains superb initials, vignettes, and miniatures (_page 138_).
The work was begun for the Duc de Berry, but was left unfinished at
his death in 1416. Later it came into the possession of the Duc de
Nemours. Can one imagine a more aristocratic treasure for a cultured
gentleman to own! It was probably begun very early in the fifteenth
century, and completed between the years 1455 and 1477. A note at
the end of the first volume (which contains 311 leaves) by François
Robertet, secretary of Pierre II, Duc de Bourbon, states that nine of
the miniatures are “by the hand of that good painter of King Louis XI,
Jean Foucquet, native of Tours.”
For over two hundred years this first volume, containing Books I to XIV
of the _Antiquities of the Jews_, has been in the Bibliothèque
Nationale. It is bound in yellow morocco, and bears the arms of
Louis XV. The second volume was considered lost. In 1903 the English
collector, Mr. Henry Yates Thompson, purchased the missing copy in
London, at a sale at Sotheby’s. This contained Books XV to XX of the
_Antiquities of the Jews_ and Books I to VII of the _War of the
Jews_; but it was imperfect in that a dozen pages of miniatures had
been cut out. Two years later, Sir George Warner discovered ten of
these filched leaves in an album of miniatures that at some time had
been presented to Queen Victoria, and were in her collection at Windsor
Castle.
As soon as Mr. Thompson heard of this discovery, he begged King Edward
VII to accept his volume, in order that the leaves might be combined.
The English monarch received the gift with the understanding that he,
in turn, might present the restored manuscript to the President of
the French Republic. This gracious act was accomplished on March 4,
1906, and now the two volumes rest side by side in the Bibliothèque
Nationale, reunited for all time after their long separation. If books
possess personalities, surely no international romance ever offered
greater material for the novelist’s imagination!
* * * * *
Now our pilgrimage takes us from Paris to Venice, to study that
priceless treasure of the Library of San Marco, the _Grimani
Breviary_, the gem of the Flemish School (which should properly
be called “Netherlandish”). This style overlapped, distinctly,
into Germany and France, and further complicated any certainty
of identification by the fact that the number of Netherlandish
illuminators was large, and they scattered themselves over Europe,
practising their art and style in France, Germany, and Italy. They all
worked with the same minute care, and it is practically impossible to
identify absolutely the work even of the most famous artists. There
has always been a question whether the chief glory of the _Grimani
Breviary_ belonged to Hans Memling or to Gerard Van-der-Meire, but
from a study of the comparative claims the Memling enthusiasts would
seem to have the better of the argument.
Internal and external evidence place the date of the execution of the
_Grimani Breviary_ at 1478 to 1489,--ten years being required for
its completion. It is believed that the commission was given by Pope
Sixtus IV. The Pontiff, however, died before the volume was finished,
and it was left in the hands of one of the artists engaged upon it.
Antonello di Messina purchased it from this artist, who is supposed to
have been Hans Memling, and brought it to Venice, where he sold it for
the sum of 500 ducats to Cardinal Domenico Grimani, whose name it bears.
[Illustration: GRIMANI BREVIARY. _Flemish_, 15th Century
_La Vie au Mois de Janvier_
(Biblioteca San Marco, Venice. 10 × 9 inches)]
This Cardinal Grimani was a man noted not only for his exemplary piety
but also as a literary man of high repute, and a collector of rare
judgment. When he died, the _Breviary_ was bequeathed to his
nephew, Marino Grimani, Patriarch of Aquileia, on the condition that
at his death the precious manuscript should become the property of the
Venetian Republic. Marino carried the _Breviary_ with him to Rome,
where it remained until his death in 1546. In spite of his precautions,
however, this and several other valuable objects would have been
irretrievably lost had not Giovanni Grimani, Marino’s successor as
Patriarch at Aquileia, searched for it, and finally recovered it at
great cost to himself.
In recognition of his services, Venice granted Giovanni the privilege
of retaining the manuscript in his possession during his lifetime.
Faithful to his trust, Giovanni, fearing lest the volume be again
lost, on October 3, 1593, sent for his great friend, Marco Antonio
Barbaro, Procurator of Saint Mark’s, placed the treasure in his hands,
and charged him to deliver it to the Doge Pasquale Cicogna in full
Senate. This was done, and the volume was stored in the Treasury of
the Basilica for safe keeping. Here it remained through the many
vicissitudes of Venice, and even after the fall of the Republic, until
the librarian Morelli persuaded the authorities to allow its removal to
the Library of San Marco, whither it was transferred October 4, 1797.