December Labours - a correction

Remember this prosperous gentleman complete with cat, enjoying his December feast?  I not only got the wrong month, but also the wrong manuscript., for which I apologise to my readers.   

 In fact it illustrates the Calendar month of January (where the year frequently begins with feasting) and comes from the Spinola Hours, one of the finest of the surviving Books of Hours.

Here is the December Calendar page from the series, which shows unsurprisingly,  pigs being slaughtered, a well set-up bakehouse, and a lovely wintry river in the background.  The borders contain scenes from the Gospels and saints,  and Capricorn is shown as land-based hairy goat.

December Calendar page from the Spinola Hours, Flemish c. 1510-20, Workshop of the Master of James IV of Scotland.  Courtesy of the Getty Museum

For anyone who would like to know more about these fascinating medieval illuminated manuscripts,  I can only recommend Christopher de Hamel's book Meetings with Remarkable Manuscripts; there is still time to add it to your Christmas list.  

December Labours: the close of the year

The main December labour for the peasant farmers in many Books of Hours seems to repeat November, with the killing of pigs.   But the wealthy who would commission and use these wonderful illuminated manuscripts ( and lived in the castles often shown in the background) would hunt the wild boar.  

December, a boar hunt. Hennessy Book of Hours, Simon Bening 1530-40

© Royal Library of Belgium, Brussels

This forest image is from the Hennessy Book of Hours: the lord's huntsman blows the 'mort' for the death of the boar, and other handlers hold back the dogs to preserve the carcass, while his master is shown with his long spear on a prancing horse:  "they blew the death of the boar, On blaring horns". *  

The artist, Simon Bening, suggesting different phases of the chase, contrasts the vivid colour and action of the hunt with the delicacy of the winter forest foliage and the castle turrets behind.

   December,  from the Tres Riches Heures de Duc de Berry   

attrib. Bartelemey d'Eyck c. 1440s  © Musee Condé, Chantilly France

This earlier miniature, with its equally expensive and vivid blues and scarlets, includes the zodiac signs, showing Capricorn, the sea-goat, as the calendar enters December.  The castle is Charles V's Chateau de Vincennes.

Boar hunts not only provided food for the rich man's feast, but culled the wild boar who would damage woodlands and next year's crops.  The famous Boar's Head Carol was first printed in 1521, celebrating the Queen's College Oxford student who, confronted by a wild boar in the woods, thrust his Aristotle text into the boar's mouth, saying 'Graecum Est' (very loosely translated as 'Meet the Greeks') as it choked.  But the Boar's head Feast is closely linked with the older pagan Yuletide, as the Norse Goddess, Freya, is shown riding on a wild boar.

Other calendar illustrations for December show a scurry of manual activities before the winter closes in, and in preparation for the Christmas and New Year feasts.

Farmers and labourers are usually shown bleeding the domestic pig's throat.  

According to region and climate, some are digging and ploughing for next year's crops,  chopping wood, still cutting pigs' throats for blood sausage (black pudding), baking bread, or already feasting. Below is an image from warmer climes - the pigs are still happily feeding while the farmer digs, ready for planting next year's crops.

December, digging.  Luca della Robbia ceramic ceiling plaque for Piero de Medici c. 1450-56

© Victoria & Albert Museum

A master baker at work,  Hours of Charles d'Angouleme c. 1475-1500

© National Library of France

Note the very clear image of Capricorn with its spiral tail.

These medieval bakers would be in a castle,  or a large town, with quantities to feed.  The dough trough has changed little in shape through the centuries.  (image wikimedia commons)

And finally the feasting, at court, or in prosperous comfort:

Those luxury embroidered table cloths come from Perugia in Italy (image wikimedia commons)

Here is December feasting for the wealthy, in fine domestic comfort, complete with cat.  

Rothschild Book of Hours c. 1500-1520   (see National Library of Australia)

Perhaps this December page from The Golf Book best sums up the end of the year activities and the annual cycle of Labours.  While the huntsmen chase the deer in the background, the farmer prepares his supplies of bread and pork, so there will be plenty of bacon sandwiches to enjoy in the last  month of the year.    

From the late 14th century English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. see blog, 24 Dec. 2017 

November Labours: Martinmas, killing pigs and swingling flax

Traditonally, November is the month for killing cattle and pigs to preserve their meat,  when there was little fodder to spare for livestock and the main drive was to lay in provisions  to last the household through the harsh winter months.  Many Calendars show pigs, as in the fifteenth century rhyme,
 "At Martinesmasse [11th November] I kylle my swine".
This medieval manuscript decoration shows a labourer with what might be a poleaxe, stunning the pig before it is despatched with the blade.

(Wikimedia commons)

Other Calendar versions for November show pigs still being  herded in the woodlands,  as in this late fifteenth century French calendar, with the zodiac sign of Sagittarius clearly having loosed his arrow below.  And is the young man in the background out to catch a bird?

Heures de la Reine Anne de Bretagne, Paris

© National Library of France

Anne of Brittany (1477-1514) was Queen Consort to two kings of France, Charles VIII and then his succeeding cousin Louis XII. Four surviving  Books of Hours bear her name. By the sixteenth century royal collectors liked their new style printed books to have hand-painted illustrations, and also still commissioned traditional illuminated manuscripts.

For those who did not have to labour, hunting was a source of meat as well as a pastime, and this later Venetian image for November shows a very relaxed young man with his dogs and hunting horn and again with a small bird - sparrow hawk, delicacy or pet?

Month of November,  oil painting, Venice c. 1580

© National Gallery London

And this November image from  the Da Costa Hours  is unusual as it shows an image from textile production - the preparation of flax, an important crop for seed (linseed oil), straw and linen. Flanders, where this painting was done, was a centre for the linen trade. 

Detail from November: Swingling Flax, Da Costa Book of Hours c.1515  Ghent

After being retted, which used water or outside weathering to soften the stalks, the flax was beaten to break up the fibres and separate them from the straw and woody stems.  

This "swingling" was done with a heavy ridged or toothed tool, although probably not in such an artistically neat circle as this. A scutching tool was also used to dress the flax, with a thin edge one side like knife.   The woman in the background is using one.  Finally the fibres would be combed, or "heckled" to remove the last shreds of straw and wood.  

It is clearly a winter occupation as the manuscript pages below are consecutive,  with bare trees and the pigs in the farmyard, and the actual calendar page ends with a fine Sagittarius as the zodiac tailpiece.

November illustration from the Da Costa Book of Hours, Simon Bening, Ghent c. 1515. 

From the coats of arms on the cover,  thought to be made for a wealthy family in Porto, Portugal, and then owned by Don Alvaro da Costa, the King's chamberlain.   © Morgan Library, NYK

From the Da Costa Book of Hours, as above.

October Labours: "And I sow my whete so rede (red)"

October is still the month when in the northern hemisphere we prepare for the winter ahead.  In medieval Europe the essential  second sewing of winter wheat or rye took place,  pigs were fattened on fallen acorns or mast before killing, and wood was stored for ovens and stoves.

In the scene below, ploughing and sewing seed for winter wheat takes front of stage: the skilled sewer will first have measured out the steps per furrow, so that the precious grain is broadcast evenly by handful per number of steps.  The harrow was used to loosen and then rake over the soil to protect the seed from eager birds.  In the background, a man is knocking down acorns or nuts to fatten the pigs rooting among the dead leaves and autumn fungi. Peasants would pay "pannage" for the right to forage their pigs in the landlord's woodland.

Golf Book of Hours, workshop of Simon Bening, Bruges, c. 1520-30

©  British Library Add. MS 24098

In the Golf Book of Hours, this is in fact the illustration for September, with October devoted to the vintage.   Other calendars also show the grape harvest in October,  with winter wheat sewing and pannage activities spread across the three autumn months, according to regional climate and custom.   

This decorated calendar page for October  emphasises the all-important autumn ploughing and sewing, to provide grain through the late winter months.  It also includes the zodiac sign of Scorpio against the same fertile landscape.

October Calendar page with Saints' Days 

©  Morgan Library, USA

And this cheerful, fifteenth-century stained glass Labour for October makes the harrow and the evenly scattered seed into a decorative pattern. Notice the extra large sack of seed,  all part of the pattern, along with the mettlesome horses and the fortified city.  

Painted and stained glass roundel, unknown maker, English c. 1450-75, probably based on woodblock engraving.  The skilled artist has used scratching, stippling and smearing of the brown pigment for shading and emphasis. 

© V&A Museum

September Labours: "Pass the rosy wine"* (Charles Dickens)

Charles Dickens' phrase captures the essence of this month's scenes. Traditionally, September shows the last medieval major harvest of the year, the vintage. Wine was not just used for merriment,  (it was drunk new and so less alcoholic, and could be partly watered), but was also important for medicinal uses and religious rituals, particularly for celebrating Mass in Catholic Europe.  This fine sculpture from Ferrarra shows the bunches of grapes being collected in a woven basket by a careful worker wearing a cap to cover his head from falling fruit.

Master of the Months,  September, c. 1230   from Ferrara Cathedral Museum   

 He is clearly ready to climb into a larger wine barrel once full, as he is barefoot with his tunic turned up for the pressing of the grapes.  Here are the preceding Months from this unknown sculptor's Labours cycle, which originally decorated the Cathedral's Porta dei Pellegrini (pilgrims).  As well as their unusually detailed realism, the subjects would have a keen religious significance for christian pilgrims.  August is unusual as it shows the harvesting of figs, a Mediterranean crop, and the Bible is full of references to fig trees, as well as corn and wine.

July, August and September,  Master of the Months  c.1230,  from Ferrara Cathedral Museum

There was a separate frieze of the 12 monthly zodiac signs, but only a few survive.

The September vintage was celebrated across western Europe,  as in these wood carvings of monthly labours.  Both are from misericords or mercy seats, designed originally for monks who had to stand for very long services.  This one shows the process from basket of grapes, to pressing (and testing) the harvest, and a cooper with one of his wooden barrels.

Misericord from Abbey de la Trinite, c. 1522-29, Vendome, France    (Wikimedia, R. Kelley)

The medieval misericord carvers indulged in popular, often vulgar humour, from dragons to drunkards, mermaids to musical pigs, like the strange animals and humans tucked amid the foliage in illuminated manuscripts. And here is a Worcester man enjoying the fruits of harvest, with grapes as large as his coat buttons.

September Misericord,  Malvern Priory Church of St Michael and St Mary, English, fifteenth century.  The same anonymous carver probably also worked at Worcester Cathedral.      

*from "The Old Curiosity Shop", Charles Dickens

July Labours: "bright, glittering, joyous art"

Although Jean, Duc de Berry, brother of the French king Charles V, was an important figure in the 100 Years' War  between France and England (from the Edward the Black Prince to Henry V),  his international fame is based on his patronage of the arts, most particularly for his exquisite Book of Hours, the Tres Riches Heures, and its 12 monthly Calendar pages painted in glowing colours by the Dutch brothers, Paul, Jean and Herman Limbourg, around 1412-1416.

July:  Harvesting and sheep shearing, probably painted by Paul de Limbourg  

Institut de France, Musee Conde, Chantilly 

Here two larger-than-life reapers are cutting the corn, one of whom is cutting out the poppies and cornflowers, beside the river Boivre with its swans, reeds, and pollarded willows, while on the other bank sheep are being sheared.  In the background is the famous triangular castle of Poitiers, one of the Duke's many castles which are shown in most of these monthly calendar pages.  He renovated and extended the existing castle, adding two more towers, which the artist has portrayed in its finest International Gothic style. The zodiac signs above show Cancer the Crab waning and Leo the Lion ascending, while the Sun is pulled by the god Phoebus, with his carriage.

Strategically placed at the confluence of two rivers, midway between Paris and Bordeaux,  Poitiers was an important fortress and town in Aquitaine.  In 1356 the Duke's father, King John II had been captured

The Gothic Cathedral of St. Pierre, west front, Poitiers, 12th-16th centuries

by the English, led by Edward III's son the Black Prince, at the Battle of  Poitiers, and eventually died in England.  As an elder statesman almost sixty years later, Duke Jean wisely persuaded his nephew Charles VI not to take part and risk capture at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415.

While Jean de Berry was Count of Poitiers, and a discerning collector and patron, the town also grew as a centre of art and learning.    With his revenues from Poitiers and produce from his many other domains, like wheat, wool, meat and wine, he could afford to employ the best illuminators and provide them with the finest materials.  The vellum pages of his Tres Riches Heures are each cut to size from the centre of best calfskins, with no ragged edges or noticeable blemishes, and the piercing blue of the zodiac calendar and the shearer's robe  (that rich colour on a peasant an artistic device) would be from rare imported ultramarine*.

Both the Duke of Berry and the Limbourg brothers died in 1416, probably of the plague, and his wonderful Book of Hours was completed by other leading artists later, passing to his descendant by marriage,  Margaret of Austria, Regent of the Netherlands in the 1500s.   She was also a discerning patron of the arts, with careful inventories of her collections, but the Duc de Berry's jewel of a manuscript then disappeared from record, only resurfacing in Genoa in the nineteenth century.   It was purchased by Henri d'Orleans, Duc d'Aumale in 1856 and bequeathed to the Institut de France.  Now its dazzling images can be enjoyed around the world, thanks to those French peasants labouring in the fields every month.

"All over the intelligent world was spread this bright, glittering, joyous art, which had now reached its acme of elegance and beauty."
William Morris on International Gothic art. 

*Ultramarine was sourced from Afghanistan lapis lazuli, at huge expense, so some blues may be copper-based azurite, although Duke Jean did own two pots of ultramarine.

June Labours: "scents, like a new-made haycock"

As the Labours of the Months are frequently linked with the zodiac signs, here for June, accompanying the mower scything is Cancer the Crab, .  Was this strange humanoid figure copied from a church carving, or a confusing description?  The face suggests that it was a stock image from a copy of a bestiary of the period, when many 'foreign' creatures (like the crocodile) were given these stylised faces.

Charite sur Loire Psalter c. 1175  BL. Hartley 2895 © British Library

Some cycles show the shearing of sheep, another important June activity providing a cash crop and warm clothing for the cold winter months.

June: Book of Hours of Agnes le Dieu, Bourges, 1500s

Utopia armarium codicum bibliophilorum, Stanford collection

The Cancer sign marks the summer solstice, when harvesting the hay crop would be at its height,  absolutely essential fodder for horses and cattle through the winter.  While the central figure is working, the man on the right is hammering the chine (blade) of his scythe, ready to fix to its long handle, the snaithe. The forked sticks the women are holding could be used for separating out weeds, or for raking up the mown hay.  Because the hay had to be cut and dried while the weather stayed fair,  traditionally for centuries women join with the men to get the harvest in.  The mowers are often shown barelegged or with stockings rolled for such hot work, but normally wearing shoes for protection. Is the fully dressed man with the large hat and puffed sleeves the owner of the meadow,  also hoping to make hay while the sun shines?  

French Book of Hours,  Nantes? fifteenth century,  Library of Geneva

Then here we can see the mowers, with legs bared and a variety of hats, working in rhythm while  women rake the dried grass into heaps, or mows, with the cart ready for loading later.  They are also well supplied with ale in wooden flasks.  In many areas haymaking traditionally began on St Barnabas Day, 11th June, but depending on region and weather, haymaking was also done in July.

                           Hours of Henry VIII, c. 1500  by Jean Poyer    Morgan Library

Centuries later haymaking was still a social occasion, although perhaps not quite so imperative a crop as in the past.  Mary Mitford writes (in 1832) about haymaking in Berkshire as "more of an innocent merriment, more of the festivity of an outdoor sport, and less of the drudgery and weariness of actual labour, than any of the other occupations of husbandry."  All the neighbours come to enjoy the party: 

 " Farmer Bridgwater set six men on to mowing by a little after sunrise, and collected fourteen efficient haymakers by breakfast time.  Fourteen active haymakers for our poor three acres! not to count the idle assistants; we ourselves, with three dogs and two boys to mind them, advisers who came to find fault and look on, babies who came to be nursed, children who came to rock the babies, and other children who came to keep the rockers company and play with the dogs; to say nothing of this small rabble, we had fourteen able-bodied men and women in one hay-field, besides the six mowers who had got the grass down by noon, and finding the strong beer good and plentiful, magnanimously volunteered to stay and help to get in the crop."

Our Village Mary Russell Mitford 

Aquarius, the water carrier: "this frosty night"

Aquarius, from a set of zodiac plates, designed by James Thornhill* 1711
© British Museum

(of whom more anon.)

This is the penultimate zodiac sign I have featured, and this poem by Robert Graves brings many of their stars together on a frosty night. The  fishy last verse will lead us into Pisces, the twelfth sign, in February.

Star Talk

"'Are you awake, Gemelli,

This frosty night?'

'We'll be awake till reveille,

Which is Sunrise,' say the Gemelli,

'It's no good trying to go to sleep:

If there's wine to be got we'll drink it deep,

But rest is hopeless tonight,

But rest is hopeless tonight.'

'Are you cold too, poor Pleiads,

This frosty night?'

'Yes, and so are the Hyads:

See us cuddle and hug,' say the Pleiads,

'All six in a ring: it keeps us warm:

We huddle together like birds in a storm:

It's bitter weather tonight,

It's bitter weather tonight.'"

 Constellation of Aquarius  (from Secrets of Space)

'What do you hunt, Orion,

This starry night?'

'The Ram, the Bull and the Lion,

And the Great Bear,' says Orion,

'With my starry quiver and beautiful belt

I am trying to find a good thick pelt

To warm my shoulders tonight,

To warm my shoulders tonight.'

'Did you hear that, Great She-bear,

This frosty night?'

'Yes, he's talking of stripping me bare

Of my own big fur,' says the She-bear.

'I'm afraid of the man and his terrible arrow:

The thought of it chills my bones to the marrow,

And the frost so cruel tonight!

And the frost so cruel tonight!'

'How is your trade, Aquarius,

This frosty night?'

'Complaints are many and various

And my feet are cold,' says Aquarius,

There's Venus objects to Dolphin-scales,

And Mars to Crab-spawn found in my pails,

And the pump has frozen tonight,

And the pump has frozen tonight.'"

Star Talk  Robert Graves

The stars of Aquarius  (from ScienceandArt.com)

Sagittarius: the Archer

The Fair Toxophilites   William Powell Frith 1872

© Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter

It was Roger Ascham, tutor and later secretary to Queen Elizabeth I,  who coined the word "toxophily".  In 1545 he published his treatise on archery -- "Toxophilus", -- from toxon, the Greek word for bow, rather than the Latin arcus. His book takes the form of a debate between Philologus, the scholar, and Toxophilus the archer, on the respective virtues of learning versus shooting.  Toxophilus is clearly no mean scholar himself, drawing on as many classical writers - Plato, Aristotle, Hesiod and more - as the book-loving Philologus.  This was the first handbook on archery written in English, and Ascham's dialogue format was soon copied by other writers, including Izaak Walton in his Compleat Angler in 1653.

the Moon goddess, late 17th century engraving

The constellation of Sagittarius takes its name from the Latin for arrow, sagitta, and is often portrayed (as above) as a centaur, that half-man, half-horse beast from Greek mythology;   although it is perhaps that other archer,  Cupid, who is the more popular figure in western art and literature.

"With what sad steps, O Moon! thou climb'st the skies!

How silently! and with how wan a face!

What! may it be that even in heavenly place

That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?"

Sonnet 31, Astrophel and Stella  Sir Philip Sidney

Scorpio: death and danger

October sees the meteor showers from the constellation of Orion, the Greek hunter of myth who was said to have been killed by Scorpio, the scorpion, this month's Zodiac sign.

Carved Scorpion sign,  on the Royal Portal voussoirs, Chartres Cathedral

The medieval figures show the signs of the Zodiac, interspersed with the traditional Labours of the Months: a Book of Hours for the populace, as well as the super-rich, representing the heavenly and earthly cycles of the year.

To cross the Scorpion was always dangerous.  The Egyptian goddess Serket with her scorpion headdress, protects the dead, as in Tutankhamens' tomb figures and inscriptions, while in his epic poem Metamorphoses, the Roman writer Ovid vividly recounts how Phaeton met his fate, recklessly driving his father the sun god's chariot across the heavens.

 Bk 2. The Fall of Phaethon:
"To add to his fear, he now perceived the monstrous beasts of huge size which lay scattered over the spangled face of heaven.  There is a certain place where the Scorpion stretches out his pincers in two hollow arcs, and with his tail and curving claws outspread on either side sprawls over two signs of the Zodiac.  When the boy saw him, exuding his baneful poison and menacing him with his curved sting, he was so completely unnerved and numb with fear that he dropped the reins.  They fell from his hands and lay loose on the horses' backs.  At once, the team galloped away out of their course.  With none to restrain them, they sped through regions of air unknown, and rushed wherever their headlong career carried them, quite beyond control. They dashed against the stars set in highest heaven, and hurled the car along where there was no pathway, now soaring up to the heights of the sky, now hurtling down its steep incline, to be borne along close to the earth,  The moon was amazed to see her brother's horses lower than her own, and smoke rose from the scorched clouds." © translation M.M.Innes

Detail from Horoscope from Book of Birth of Iskander
Wellcome  Library Images

"Driv'n by the spheres"

"…...Time in hours, days, years,

Driv'n by the spheres

Like a vast shadow mov'd; in which the world

And all her train were hurled."    

from The World,  Henry Vaughan

St. Mark's Clocktower, Piazza San Marco, Venice 

We are now halfway through the celestial Zodiac, when the sequence turns from the northern hemisphere to the southern, Time marking the move from summer to winter as the autumn equinox approaches.
On a more prosaic note than the seventeenth century poet Henry Vaughan,  the late Victorian Rev. E.C. Brewer (in his Dictionary of Phrase and Fable) provides this helpful mnemonic for the monthly astrological signs:

"Our vernal signs the RAM begins,

Then comes the BULL, in May the TWINS;-

The CRAB in June, next LEO shines,

And VIRGO ends the northern signs.

The BALANCE brings autumnal fruits,

The  SCORPION stings, the ARCHER shoots,

December's GOAT brings wintry blast,

AQUARIUS rain, the FISH come last."

Leonine stories

Persian Astrological illustration for Leo,  gouache, c. 1800s. 

(from the Wellcome Library Images ) 

 This is the time when the constellation of Leo is in the ascendent.  There are many examples of the kingly Lion as a symbol from myth and legend, from the lion-killing hero in the Epic of Gilgamesh, or the Old Testament's  Samson and David, or the Greek Hercules, all often shown wearing a lion skin.  Gentler heroes are St. Jerome, who befriended a lion by removing a thorn from its paw, a story taken from the classics and reimagined by G. B. Shaw in Androcles and the Lion,  and of course, the fourth Gospel-maker, St. Mark and his winged lion, historically associated with Venice. 

But for my Lion illustration I have gone back to the Babylonian myth of the tragic lovers, a tale popular in the  later Renaissance: 

"In such a night  

Did Thisbe fearfully overtrip the dew, 

And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 

And ran dismayed away."  (Merchant of Venice  Act V)

Pyramus and Thisbe, maiolica plate from Urbino, c. 1550s  © Fitzwilliam Museum

As Ovid recounts, the eloping lovers are due to meet at Ninus' fountain outside Nineveh, but Thisbe, arriving first, is frightened by a bloody-mouthed lion and flees, dropping her cloak. Pyramus arrives, sees the lion mauling Thisbe's bloodstained cloak, and, most true lover, falls on his sword.   Here we see Thisbe returning and desperately following  Pyramus' example, watched by Cupid.

Not the finest rendering in maiolica - a very cluttered image with all the city backdrop encroaching.  The painter (or his customers) obviously liked scenes of impalement, but the lion has not got Thisbe's bloodstained cloak in its mouth, in fact Thisbe still seems to have a cloak around her; nevertheless the painter has captured the popular tragedy with dramatic 3D effect.  According to Ovid, a mulberry tree grew beside the fountain and, drenched in the lovers' blood, its white berries were ever after deep purple.

There are other finer maiolica examples in e.g. the Wallace Collection, and this popular story appears in paintings, mosaics, on Venetian glassware and French tapestry, although you sometimes have to look hard to spot the deadly lion.

I could not resist this Footnote:  a fresco by Benozzo Gozzoli, c. 1425, from Montefalco, Italy.