Arts and crafts in the Middle Ages

by Julia de Wolf Addison

This extract is made from a book in one of the early monastic libraries. "Oh, Lord, send the blessing of thy Holy Spirit upon these books, that, cleansing them from all earthly things, they may mercifully enlighten our hearts, and give us true understanding, and grant that by their teaching they may brightly preserve and make a full abundance of good works according to Thy will." The books were kept in cupboards, with doors; in the Customs of the Augustine Priory of Barnwell, these directions are given: "The press in which the books are kept ought to be lined with wood, that the damp of the walls may not moisten or stain the books. The press should be divided vertically as well as horizontally, by sundry partitions, on which the books may be ranged so as to be separated from one another, for fear they be packed so close as to injure one another, or to delay those who want them."

We read of the "chained books" of the Middle Ages, and I think there is a popular belief that this referred to the fact that the Bible was kept in the priest's hands, and chained so that the people should not be able to read it for themselves and become familiar with every part of it. This, however, is a mistake. It was the books in the libraries which were chained, so that dishonest people should not make way with them! In one Chapter Library, there occurs a denunciation of such thieves, and instructions how to fasten the volumes. It reads as follows: "Since to the great reproach of the Nation, and a greater one to our Holy Religion, the thievish disposition of some who enter libraries to learn no good there, hath made it necessary to secure the sacred volumes themselves with chains (which are better deserved by those ill persons, who have too much learning to be hanged, and too little to be honest), care shall be taken that the chains should neither be too long nor too clumsy, more than the use of them requires: and that the loops whereby they are fastened to the books may be rivetted on such a part of the cover, and so smoothly, as not to gall or graze the books, while they are moved to or from their respective places. And forasmuch as the more convenient way to place books in libraries is to turn their backs out showing the title and other decent ornaments in gilt work which ought not to be hidden, this new method of fixing the chain to the back of the book is recommended until one more suitable shall be contrived."

Numerous monasteries in England devoted much time to scriptorium work. In Gloucester may still be seen the carrels of the scribes in the cloister wall, and there was also much activity in the book making art in Norwich, Glastonbury, and Winchester, and in other cities. The two monasteries of St. Peter and St. Swithin in Winchester were, the chronicler says, "so close packed together,... that between the foundation of their respective buildings there was barely room for a man to pass along. The choral service of one monastery conflicted with that of the other, so that both were spoiled, and the ringing of their bells together produced a horrid effect."

One of the most important monasteries of early times, on the Continent, was that conducted by Alcuin, under the protection of Charlemagne. When the appointed time for writing came round, the monks filed into the scriptorium, taking their places at their desks. One of their number then stood in the midst, and read aloud, slowly, for dictation, the work upon which they were engaged as copyists; in this way, a score of copies could be made at one time. Alcuin himself would pass about among them, making suggestions and correcting errors, a beautiful example of true consecration, the great scholar spending his time thus in supervising the transcription of the Word of God, from a desire to have it spread far and wide. Alcuin sent a letter to Charlemagne, accompanying a present of a copy of the Bible, at the time of the emperor's coronation, and from this letter, which is still preserved, it may be seen how reverent a spirit his was, and how he esteemed the things of the spiritual life as greater than the riches of the world. "After deliberating a long while," he writes, "what the devotion of my mind might find worthy of a present equal to the splendour of your Imperial dignity, and the increase of your wealth,—at length by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, I found what it would be competent for me to offer, and fitting for your prudence to accept. For to me inquiring and considering, nothing appeared more worthy of your peaceful honour than the gifts of the Sacred Scriptures... which, knit together in the sanctity of one glorious body, and diligently amended, I have sent to your royal authority, by this your faithful son and servant, so that with full hands we may assist at the delightful service of your dignity." One of Alcuin's mottoes was: "Writing books is better than planting vines: for he who plants a vine serves his belly, while he who writes books serves his soul."

Many different arts were represented in the making of a mediæval book. Of those employed, first came the scribe, whose duty it was to form the black even glossy letters with his pen; then came the painter, who must not only be a correct draughtsman, and an adept with pencil and brush, but must also understand how to prepare mordaunts and to lay the gold leaf, and to burnish it afterwards with an agate, or, as an old writer directs, "a dogge's tooth set in a stick." After him, the binder gathered the lustrous pages and put them together under silver mounted covers, with heavy clasps. At first, the illuminations were confined only to the capital letters, and red was the selected colour to give this additional life to the evenly written page. The red pigment was known as "minium." The artist who applied this was called a "miniator," and from this, was derived the term "miniature," which later referred to the pictures executed in the developed stages of the art. The use of the word "miniature," as applied to paintings on a small scale, was evolved from this expression.

A SCRIBE AT WORK: 12TH CENTURY MANUSCRIPT

The difficulties were numerous. First, there was climate and temperature to consider. It was necessary to be very careful about the temperature to which gold leaf was exposed, and in order to dry the sizing properly, it was important that the weather should not be too damp nor too warm. Peter de St. Audemar, writing in the late thirteenth century, says: "Take notice that you ought not to work with gold or colours in a damp place, on account of the hot weather, which, as it is often injurious in burnishing gold, both to the colours on which the gold is laid and also to the gilding, if the work is done on parchment, so also it is injurious when the weather is too dry and arid." John Acherius, in 1399, observes, too, that "care must be taken as regards the situation, because windy weather is a hindrance, unless the gilder is in an enclosed place, and if the air is too dry, the colour cannot hold the gold under the burnisher." Illumination is an art which has always been difficult; we who attempt it to-day are not simply facing a lost art which has become impossible because of the changed conditions; even when followed along the best line in the best way the same trials were encountered.

Early treatises vary regarding the best medium for laying leaf on parchment. There are very few vehicles which will form a connecting and permanent link between these two substances. There is a general impression that white of egg was used to hold the gold: but any one who has experimented knows that it is impossible to fasten metal to vellum by white of egg alone. Both oil and wax were often employed, and in nearly all recipes the use of glue made of boiled-down vellum is enjoined. In some of the monasteries there are records that the scribes had the use of the kitchen for drying parchment and melting wax.

The introductions to the early treatises show the spirit in which the work was undertaken. Peter de St. Audemar commences: "By the assistance of God, of whom are all things that are good, I will explain to you how to make colours for painters and illuminators of books, and the vehicles for them, and other things appertaining thereto, as faithfully as I can in the following chapters." Peter was a North Frenchman of the thirteenth century.

Of the recipes given by the early treatises, I will quote a few, for in reality they are all the literature we have upon the subject. Eraclius, who wrote in the twelfth century, gives accurate directions: "Take ochre and distemper it with water, and let it dry. In the meanwhile make glue with vellum, and whip some white of egg. Then mix the glue and the white of egg, and grind the ochre, which by this time is well dried, upon a marble slab; and lay it on the parchment with a paint brush;... then apply the gold, and let it remain so, without pressing it with the stone. When it is dry, burnish it well with a tooth. This," continues Eraclius naïvely, "is what I have learned by experiment, and have frequently proved, and you may safely believe me that I shall have told you the truth." This assurance of good faith suggests that possibly it was a habit of illuminators to be chary of information, guarding their own discoveries carefully, and only giving out partial directions to others of their craft.