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.