Arts and crafts in the Middle Ages

by Julia de Wolf Addison

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 Lapis-lazuli with gold veinings, malachite, coral, alabaster, and rare marbles superseded the smalts and gold of an elder day.

CHAPTER XI

ILLUMINATION OF BOOKS

One cannot enter a book shop or a library to-day without realizing how many thousands of books are in constant circulation. There was an age when books were laboriously but most beautifully written, instead of being thus quickly manufactured by the aid of the type-setting machine; the material on which the glossy text was executed was vellum instead of the cheap paper of to-day, the illustrations, instead of being easily reproduced by photographic processes, were veritable miniature paintings, most decorative, ablaze with colour and fine gold,—in these times it is easy to forget that there was ever a period when the making of a single book occupied years, and sometimes the life-time of one or two men.

In those days, when the transcription of books was one of the chief occupations in religious houses, the recluse monk, in the quiet of the scriptorium, was, in spite of his seclusion, and indeed, by reason of it, the chief link between the world of letters and the world of men.

The earliest known example of work by a European monk dates from the year 517; but shortly after this there was a great increase in book making, and monasteries were founded especially for the purpose of perpetuating literature. The first establishment of this sort was the monastery of Vivaria, in Southern Italy, founded by Cassiodorus, a Greek who lived between the years 479 and 575, and who had been the scribe (or "private secretary") of Theodoric the Goth. About the same time, St. Columba in Ireland founded a house with the intention of multiplying books, so that in the sixth century, in both the extreme North and in the South, the religious orders had commenced the great work of preserving for future ages the literature of the past and of their own times.

Before examining the books themselves, it will be interesting to observe the conditions under which the work was accomplished. Sometimes the scriptorium was a large hall or studio, with various desks about; sometimes the North walk of the cloister was divided into little cells, called "carrels," in each of which was room for the writer, his desk, and a little shelf for his inks and colours. These carrels may be seen in unusual perfection in Gloucester. In very cold weather a small brazier of charcoal was also introduced.

Cassiodorus writes thus of the privilege of being a copyist of holy books. "He may fill his mind with the Scriptures while copying the sayings of the Lord; with his fingers he gives life to men and arms against the wiles of the Devil; as the antiquarius copies the word of Christ, so many wounds does he inflict upon Satan. What he writes in his cell will be carried far and wide over distant provinces. Man multiplies the word of Heaven: if I may dare so to speak, the three fingers of his right hand are made to represent the utterances of the Holy Trinity. The fast travelling reed writes down the holy words, thus avenging the malice of the wicked one, who caused a reed to be used to smite the head of the Saviour."

When the scriptorium was consecrated, these words were used (and they would be most fitting words to-day, in the consecration of libraries or class rooms which are to be devoted to religious study): "Vouchsafe, O, Lord, to bless this workroom of thy servants, that all which they write therein may be comprehended by their intelligence, and realized by their work." Scriptorium work was considered equal to labour in the fields. In the Rule of St. Fereol, in the sixth century, there is this clause: "He who doth not turn up the earth with his plough, ought to write the parchment with his fingers." The Capitulary of Charlemagne contains this phrase: "Do not permit your scribes or pupils, either in reading or writing, to garble the text; when you are preparing copies of the Gospels, the Psalter, or the Missal, see that the work is confided to men of mature age, who will write with due care." Some of the scribes were prolific book transcribers. Jacob of Breslau, who died in 1480, copied so many books that it is said that "six horses could with difficulty bear the burden of them!"

The work of each scriptorium was devoted first to the completion of the library of the individual monastery, and after that, to other houses, or to such patrons as were rich enough to order books to be transcribed for their own use. The library of a monastery was as much a feature as the scriptorium. The monks were not like the rising literary man, who, when asked if he had read "Pendennis" replied, "No—I never read books—I write them." Every scribe was also a reader. There was a regular system of lending books from the central store. A librarian was in charge, and every monk was supposed to have some book which he was engaged in reading "straight through" as the Rule of St. Benedict enjoins, just as much as the one which he was writing. As silence was obligatory in the scriptorium and library, as well as in the cloisters, they were forced to apply for the volumes which they desired by signs. For a general work, the sign was to extend the hand and make a movement as if turning over the leaves of a book. If a Missal was wanted, the sign of the cross was added to the same form; for a Gospel, the sign of the cross was made upon the forehead, while those who wished tracts to read, should lay one hand on the mouth and the other on the stomach; a Capitulary was indicated by the gesture of raising the clasped hands to heaven, while a Psalter could be obtained by raising the hands above the head in the form of a crown. As the good brothers were not possessed of much religious charity, they indicated a secular book by scratching their ears, as dogs are supposed to do, to imply the suggestion that the infidel who wrote such a book was no better than a dog!