INLAY AND MOSAIC

There are three kinds of inlay, one where the pattern is incised, and a plastic filling pressed in, and allowed to harden, on the principle of a niello; another, where both the piece to be set in and the background are cut out separately; and a third, where a number of small bits are fitted together as in a mosaic. The pavement in Siena is an example of the first process. The second process is often accomplished with a fine saw, like what is popularly known as a jig saw, cutting the same pattern in light and dark wood, one layer over another; the dark can then be set into the light, and the light in the dark without more than one cutting for both. The mosaic of small pieces can be seen in any of the Southern churches, and, indeed, now in nearly every country. It was the chief wall treatment of the middle ages.

About the year 764, Maestro Giudetto ornamented the delightful Church of St. Michele at Lucca. This work, or at least the best of it, is a procession of various little partly heraldic and partly grotesque animals, inlaid with white marble on a ground of green serpentine. They are full of the best expression of mediÆval art.

The Lion of Florence, the Hare of Pisa, the Stork of Perugia, the Dragon of Pistoja, are all to be seen in these simple mosaics, if one chooses to consider them as such, hardly more than white silhouettes, and yet full of life and vigour. The effect is that of a vast piece of lace,—the real cut work of the period. Absurd little trees, as space fillers, are set in the green and white marble. Every reader will remember how Ruskin was enthusiastic over these little creatures, and no one can fail to feel their charm.

The pavements at the Florentine Baptistery and at San Miniato are interesting examples of inlay in black and white marble. They are early works, and are the natural forerunners of the marvellous pavement at Siena, which is the most remarkable of its kind in the world.

The pavement masters worked in varying methods. The first of these was the joining together of large flat pieces of marble, cut in the shapes of the general design, and then outlining on them an actual black drawing by means of deeply cut channels, filled with hard black cement. The channels were first cut superficially and then emphasized and deepened by the use of a drill, in a series of holes.

Later workers used black marbles for the backgrounds, red for the ground, and white for the figures, sometimes adding touches of yellow inlay for decorations, jewels, and so forth. Some of the workers even used gray marble to represent shadows, but this was very difficult, and those who attempted less chiaroscuro were more successful from a decorator's point of view.

This work covered centuries. The earliest date of the ornamental work in Siena is 1369. From 1413 to 1423 Domenico del Coro, a famous worker in glass and in intarsia, was superintendent of the works. The beauty and spirit of much of the earlier inlay have been impaired by restoration, but the whole effect is unique, and on so vast a scale that one hesitates to criticize it just as one hesitates to criticize the windows at Gouda.

One compartment of the floor is in genuine mosaic, dating from 1373. The designer is unknown, but the feeling is very Sienese; Romulus and Remus are seen in their customary relation to the domesticated wolf, while the symbolical animals of various Italian cities are arranged in a series of circles around this centrepiece. One of the most striking designs is that of Absalom, hanging by his hair. It is in sharp black and white, and the foliage of the trees is remarkably decorative, rendered with interesting minutiÆ. This is attributed to Pietro del Minella, and was begun in 1447.

A very interesting composition is that of the Parable of the Mote and the Beam. This is an early work, about 1375; it shows two gentlemen in the costume of the period, arguing in courtly style, one apparently declaiming to the other how much better it would be for him if it were not for the mote in his eye, while from the eye of the speaker himself extends, at an impossible angle, a huge wedge of wood, longer than his head, from which he appears to suffer no inconvenience, and which seems to have defied the laws of gravitation!

The renowned Matteo da Siena worked on the pavement; he designed the scene of the Massacre of the Innocents—it seems to have been always his favourite subject. He was apparently of a morbid turn.

In 1505 Pinturicchio was paid for a work on the floor: "To master Bernardino Pinturicchio, ptr., for his labour in making a cartoon for the design of Fortune, which is now being made in the Cathedral, on this 13th day of March, 12 Lires for our said Master Alberto." The mosaic is in red, black, and white, while other coloured marbles are introduced in the ornamental parts of the design, several of which have been renewed. Fortune herself has been restored, also, as have most of the lower figures in the composition. Her precariousness is well indicated by her action in resting one foot on a ball, and the other on an unstable little boat which floats, with broken mast, by the shore. She holds a sail above her head, so that she is liable to be swayed by varying winds. The three upper figures are in a better state of preservation than the others.

There was also in France some interest in mosaic during the eleventh century. At St. Remi in Rheims was a celebrated pavement in which enamels were used as well as marbles. Among the designs which appeared on this pavement, which must have positively rivalled Siena in its glory, was a group of the Seven Arts, as well as numerous Biblical scenes. It is said that certain bits of valuable stone, like jasper, were exhibited in marble settings, like "precious stones in a ring." There were other French pavements, of the eleventh century, which were similar in their construction, in which terra cotta was employed for the reds.

"Pietra Dura" was a mosaic laid upon either a thick wood or a marble foundation. Lapis lazuli, malachite, and jasper were used largely, as well as bloodstones, onyx, and Rosso Antico. In Florentine Pietra Dura work, the inlay of two hard and equally cut materials reached its climax.

Arnolfo del Cambio, who built the Cathedral of Sta. Maria Fiore in Florence, being its architect from 1294 till 1310, was the first in that city to use coloured slabs and panels of marble in a sort of flat mosaic on a vast scale on the outside of buildings. His example has been extensively followed throughout Italy. The art of Pietra Dura mosaic began under Cosimo I. who imported it, if one may use such an expression, from Lombardy. It was used chiefly, like Gobelins Tapestry, to make very costly presents, otherwise unprocurable, for grandees and crowned heads. For a long time the work was a Royal monopoly. There are several interesting examples in the Pitti Palace, in this case in the form of tables. Flowers, fruits, shells, and even figures and landscapes have been represented in this manner.

Six masters of the art of Pietra Dura came from Milan in 1580, to instruct the Florentines: and a portrait of Cosimo I. was the first important result of their labours. It was executed by Maestro Francesco Ferucci. The Medicean Mausoleum in Florence exhibits magnificent specimens of this craft.

In the time of Ferdinand I. the art was carried by Florentines to India, where it was used in decorating some of the palaces. Under Ferdinand II. Pietra Dura reached its climax, there being in Florence at this time a most noted Frenchman, Luigi SiriÈs, who settled in Florence in 1722. He refined the art by ceasing to use the stone as a pigment in producing pictures, and employing it for the more legitimate purposes of decoration. Some of the large tables in the Pitti are his work. Flowers and shells on a porphyry ground were especially characteristic of SiriÈs. There was a famous inlayer of tables, long before this time, named Antonio Leopardi, who lived from 1450 to 1525.

The inlay of wood has been called marquetry and intarsia, and was used principally on furniture and choir stalls. Labarte gives the origin of this art in Italy to the twelfth century. The Guild of Carpenters in Florence had a branch of Intarsiatura workers, which included all forms of inlay in wood. It is really more correct to speak of intarsia when we allude to early Italian work, the word being derived from "interserere," the Latin for "insert;" while marquetry originates in France, much later, from "marqueter," to mark. Italian wood inlay began in Siena, where one Manuello is reported to have worked in the Cathedral in 1259. Intarsia was also made in Orvieto at this time. Vasari did not hold the art in high estimation, saying that it was practised by "those persons who possessed more patience than skill in design," and I confess to a furtive concurrence in Vasari's opinion. He criticizes it a little illogically, however, when he goes on to say that the "work soon becomes dark, and is always in danger of perishing from the worms and by fire," for in these respects it is no more perishable than any great painting on canvas or panel. Vasari always is a little extreme, as we know.

The earliest Italian workers took a solid block of wood, chiselled out a sunken design, and then filled in the depression with other woods. The only enemy to such work was dampness, which might loosen the glue, or cause the small thin bits to swell or warp. The glue was applied always when the surfaces were perfectly clean, and the whole was pressed, being screwed down on heated metal plates, that all might dry evenly.

In 1478 there were thirty-four workshops of intarsia makers in Florence. The personal history of several of the Italian workers in inlay is still available, and, as it makes a craft seem much more vital when the names of the craftsmen are known to us, it will be interesting to glance at a few names of prominent artists in this branch of work. Bernardo Agnolo and his family are among them; and Domenico and Giovanni Tasso were wood-carvers who worked with Michelangelo. Among the "Novelli," there is a quaint tale called "The Fat Ebony Carver," which is interesting to read in this connection.

Benedetto da Maiano, one of the "most solemn" workers in intarsia in Florence, became disgusted with his art after one trying experience, and ever after turned his attention to other carving. Vasari's version of the affair is as follows. Benedetto had been making two beautiful chests, all inlaid most elaborately, and carried them to the Court of Hungary, to exhibit the workmanship. "When he had made obeisance to the king, and had been kindly received, he brought forward his cases and had them unpacked... but it was then he discovered that the humidity of the sea voyage had softened the glue to such an extent that when the waxed cloths in which the coffers had been wrapped were opened, almost all the pieces were found sticking to them, and so fell to the ground! Whether Benedetto stood amazed and confounded at such an event, in the presence of so many nobles, let every one judge for himself."

A famous family of wood inlayers were the del Tasso, who came from S. Gervasio. One of the brothers, Giambattista, was a wag, and is said to have wasted much time in amusement and standing about criticizing the methods of others. He was a friend of Cellini, and all his cronies pronounce him to have been a good fellow. On one occasion he had a good dose of the spirit of criticism, himself, from a visiting abbot, who stopped to see the Medicean tomb, where Tasso happened to be working. Tasso was requested to show the stranger about, which he did. The abbot began by depreciating the beauty of the building, remarking that Michelangelo's figures in the Sacristy did not interest him, and on his way up the stairs, he chanced to look out of a window and caught sight of Brunelleschi's dome. When the dull ecclesiastic began to say that this dome did not merit the admiration which it raised, the exasperated Tasso, who was loyal to his friends, could stand no more. Il Lasca recounts what happened: "Pulling the abbot backward with force, he made him tumble down the staircase, and he took good care to fall himself on top of him, and calling out that the frater had been taken mad, he bound his arms and legs with cords... and then taking him, hanging over his shoulders, he carried him to a room near, stretched him on the ground, and left him there in the dark, taking away the key." We will hope that if Tasso himself was too prone to criticism, he may have learned a lesson from this didactic monastic, and was more tolerant in the future.

Of the work of Canozio, a worker of about the same time, Matteo Colaccio in 1486, writes, "In visiting these intarsiad figures I was so much taken with the exquisiteness of the work that I could not withold myself from praising the author to heaven!" He refers thus ecstatically to the Stalls at St. Antonio at Padua, which were inlaid by Canozio, assisted by other masters. For his work in the Church of St. Domenico in Reggio, the contract called for some curious observances: he was bound by this to buy material for fifty lire, to work one third of the whole undertaking for fifty lire, to earn another fifty lire for each succeeding third, and then to give "forty-eight planks to the Lady," whatever that may mean! Among the instruments mentioned are: "Two screw profiles: one outliner: four one-handed little planes: rods for making cornices: two large squares and one grafonetto: three chisels, one glued and one all of iron: a pair of big pincers: two little axes: and a bench to put the tarsia on." Pyrography has its birth in intarsia, where singeing was sometimes employed as a shading in realistic designs.

In the Study of the Palace at Urbino, there is mention of "arm chairs encircling a table all mosaicked with tarsia, and carved by Maestro Giacomo of Florence," a worker of considerable repute. One of the first to adopt the use of ivory, pearl, and silver for inlay was Andrea Massari of Siena. In this same way inlay of tortoise-shell and brass was made,—the two layers were sawed out together, and then counterchanged so as to give the pattern in each material upon the other. Cabinets are often treated in this way. Ivory and sandal-wood or ebony, too, have been sometimes thus combined. In Spain cabinets were often made of a sort of mosaic of ebony and silver; in 1574 a Prohibtion was issued against using silver in this way, since it was becoming scarce.

In De Luna's "Diologos Familiarea," a Spanish work of 1669, the following conversation is given: "How much has your worship paid for this cabinet? It is worth more than forty ducats. What wood is it made of? The red is of mahogany, from HabaÑa, and the black is made of ebony, and the white of ivory. You will find the workmanship excellent." This proves that inlaid cabinets were usual in Spain.

Ebony being expensive, it was sometimes simulated with stain. An old fifteenth century recipe says: "Take boxwood and lay in oil with sulphur for a night, then let it stew for an hour, and it will become as black as coal." An old Italian book enjoins the polishing of this imitation ebony as follows: "Is the wood to be polished with burnt pumice stone? Rub the work carefully with canvas and this powder, and then wash the piece with Dutch lime water so that it may be more beautifully polished... then the rind of a pomegranate must be steeped, and the wood smeared over with it, and set to dry, but in the shade."

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.

The mosaic pavement in Westminster Abbey Presbytery is as fine an example of Roman Cosmati mosaic as one can see north of the Alps. An inscription, almost obliterated, is interpreted by Mr. Lethaby as signifying, that in the year 1268 "Henry III. being King, and Odericus the cementarius, Richard de Ware, Abbot, brought the porphyry and divers jaspers and marbles of Thaso from Rome." In another place a sort of enigma, drawn from an arbitrary combination of animal forms and numbers, marks a chart for determining the end of the world! There is also a beautiful mosaic tomb at Westminster, inlaid with an interlacing pattern in a ground of marble, like the work so usual in Rome, and in Palermo, and other Southern centres of the art.

While the material used in mosaic wall decoration is sometimes a natural product, like marble, porphyry, coral, or alabaster, the picture is composed for the most part of artificially prepared smalts—opaque glass of various colours, made in sheets and then cut up into cubes. An infinite variety in gradations of colour and texture is thus made possible.

The gold grounds which one sees in nearly all mosaics are constructed in an interesting way. Each cube is composed of plain rather coarse glass, of a greenish tinge, upon which is laid gold leaf. Over this leaf is another film of glass, extremely thin, so that the actual metal is isolated between two glasses, and is thus impervious to such qualities in the air as would tarnish it or cause it to deteriorate. To prevent an uninteresting evenness of surface on which the sun's rays would glint in a trying manner, it was usual to lay the gold cubes in a slightly irregular manner, so that each facet, as it were, should reflect at a different angle, and the texture, especially in the gold grounds, never became monotonous. One does not realize the importance of this custom until one sees a cheap modern mosaic laid absolutely flat, and then it is evident how necessary this broken surface is to good effect. Any one who has tried to analyze the reason for the superiority of old French stained glass over any other, will be surprised, if he goes close to the wall, under one of the marvellous windows of Chartres, for instance, and looks up, to see that the whole fabric is warped and bent at a thousand angles,—it is not only the quality of the ancient glass, nor its colour, that gives this unattainable expression to these windows, but the accidental warping and wear of centuries have laid each bit of glass at a different angle, so that the refraction of the light is quite different from any possible reflection on the smooth surface of a modern window.

The dangers of a clear gold ground were, felt more fully by the workers at Ravenna and Rome, than in Venice. Architectural schemes were introduced to break up the surface: clouds and backgrounds, fields of flowers, and trees, and such devices, were used to prevent the monotony of the unbroken glint. But in Venice the decorators were brave; their faith in their material was unbounded, and they not only frankly laid gold in enormous masses on flat wall and cupola, but they even moulded the edges and archivolts without separate ribs or strips to relieve them; the gold is carried all over the edges, which are rounded into curves to receive the mosaic, so that the effect is that of the entire upper part of the church having been pressed into shape out of solid gold. The lights on these rounded edges are incomparably rich.

It is equally important to vary the plain values of the colour, and this was accomplished by means of dilution and contrast in tints instead of by unevenness of surface, although in many of the most satisfactory mosaics, both means have been employed. Plain tints in mosaic can be relieved in a most delightful way by the introduction of little separate cubes of unrelated colour, and the artist who best understands this use of mass and dot is the best maker of mosaic. The actual craft of construction is similar everywhere, but the use of what we may regard as the pigment has possibilities similar to the colours of a painter. The manipulation being of necessity slow, it is more difficult to convey the idea of spontaneity in design than it is in a fresco painting.

To follow briefly the history of mosaic as used in the Dark Ages, the Middle Ages, and the period of the Renaissance, it is interesting to note that by the fourth century mosaic was the principal decoration in ecclesiastical buildings. Contantine employed this art very extensively. Of his period, however, few examples remain. The most notable is the little church of Sta. Constanza, the vaults of which are ornamented in this way, with a fine running pattern of vines, interspersed with figures on a small scale. The Libel Pontificalis tells how Constantine built the Basilica of St. Agnese at the request of his daughter, and also a baptistery in the same place, where Constance was baptized, by Bishop Sylvester.

Among the most interesting early mosaics is the apse of the Church of St. Pudentiana in Rome. Barbet de Jouy, who has written extensively on this mosaic, considers it to be an eighth century achievement. But a later archÆologist, M. Rossi, believes it to have been made in the fourth century, in which theory he is upheld by M. Vitet. The design is that of a company of saints gathered about the Throne on which God the Father sits to pass judgment. In certain restorations and alterations made in 1588 two of these figures were cut away, and the lower halves of those remaining were also removed, so that the figures are now only half length. The faces and figures are drawn in a very striking manner, being realistic and full of graceful action, very different from the mosaics of a later period, which were dominated by Byzantine tradition.

In France were many specimens of the mosaics of the fifth century. But literary descriptions are all that have survived of these works, which might once have been seen at Nantes, Tours, and Clermont.

Ravenna is the shrine of the craft in the fifth and sixth centuries. It is useless in so small a space to attempt to describe or do justice to these incomparable walls, where gleam the marvellous procession of white robed virgins, and where glitters the royal cortÈge of Justinian and Theodora. The acme of the art was reached when these mural decorations were planned and executed, and the churches of Ravenna may be considered the central museum of the world for a study of mosaic.

Among those who worked at Ravenna a few names have descended. These craftsmen were, Cuserius, Paulus, Janus, Statius and Stephanus, but their histories are vague. Theodoric also brought some mosaic artists from Rome to work in Ravenna, which fact accounts for a Latin influence discernible in these mosaics, which are in many instances free from Byzantine stiffness. The details of the textiles in the great mosaics of Justinian and Theodora are rarely beautiful. The chlamys with which Justinian is garbed is covered with circular interlaces with birds in them; on the border of the Empress's robe are embroideries of the three Magi presenting their gifts; on one of the robes of the attendants there is a pattern of ducks swimming, while another is ornamented with leaves of a five-pointed form.

There is a mosaic in the Tomb of Galla Placida in Ravenna, representing St. Lawrence, cheerfully approaching his gridiron, with the Cross and an open book encumbering his hands, while in a convenient corner stands a little piece of furniture resembling a meat-safe, containing the Four Gospels. The saint is walking briskly, and is fully draped; the gridiron is of the proportions of a cot bedstead, and has a raging fire beneath it,—a gruesome suggestion of the martyrdom.

No finer examples of the art of the colourist in mosaic can be seen than in the procession of Virgins at San Apollinaire Nuovo in Ravenna. Cool, restrained, and satisfying, the composition has all the elements of chromatic perfection. In the golden background occasional dots of light and dark brown serve to deepen the tone into a slightly bronze colour. The effect is especially scintillating and rich, more like hammered gold than a flat sheet. The colours in the trees are dark and light green, while the Virgins, in brown robes, with white draperies over them, are relieved with little touches of gold. The whole tone being thus green and russet, with purplish lines about the halos, is an unusual colour-scheme, and can hardly carry such conviction in a description as when it is seen.

In the East, the Church of Sta. Sophia at Constantinople exhibited the most magnificent specimens of this work; the building was constructed under Constantine, by the architects Anthemius and Isidore, and the entire interior, walls and dome included, was covered by mosaic pictures.

Among important works of the seventh century is the apse of St. Agnese, in Rome. Honorius decorated the church, about 630, and it is one of the most effective mosaics in Rome. At St. John Lateran, also, Pope John IV. caused a splendid work to be carried out, which has been reported as being as "brilliant as the sacred waters."

In the eighth century a magnificent achievement was accomplished in the monastery of Centula, in Picardie, but all traces of this have been lost, for the convent was burnt in 1131. The eighth was not an active century for the arts, for in 726 Leo's edict was sent forth, prohibiting all forms of image worship, and at a Council at Constantinople in 754 it was decided that all iconographic representation and all use of symbols (except in the Sacrament) were blasphemous. Idolatrous monuments were destroyed, and the iconoclasts continued their devastations until the death of Theophilus in 842. Fortunately this wave of zeal was checked before the destruction of the mosaics in Ravenna and Rome, but very few specimens survived in France.

In the ninth century a great many important monuments were added, and a majority of the mosaics which may still be seen, date from that time: they are not first in quality, however, although they are more numerous. After this, there was a period of inanition, in this art as in all others, while the pseudo-prophets awaited the ending of the world. After the year 1000 had passed, and the astonished people found that they were still alive, and that the world appeared as stable as formerly, interest began to revive, and the new birth of art produced some significant examples in the field of mosaic. There was some activity in Germany, for a time, the versatile Bishop Bernward of Hildesheim adding this craft to his numerous accomplishments, although it is probable that his works resembled the graffiti and inlaid work rather than the mosaics composed of cubes of smalt.

At the Monastery of Monte Cassino in the eleventh century was an interesting personality,—the AbbÉ Didier, its Superior. About 1066 he brought workers from Constantinople, who decorated the apse and walls of the basilica under his direction. At the same time, he established a school at the monastery, and the young members were instructed in the arts and crafts of mosaic and inlay, and the illumination of books. Greek influence was thus carried into Italy through Monte Cassino.

In the twelfth century the celebrated Suger of St. Denis decorated one of the porches of his church with mosaic, in smalt, marbles, and gold; animal and human forms were introduced in the ornament. But this may not have been work actually executed on the spot, for another narrator tells us that Suger brought home from Italy, on one of his journeys, a mosaic, which was placed over the door at St. Denis; as it is no longer in its position, it is not easy to determine which account is correct.

The mosaics at St. Mark's in Venice were chiefly the work of two centuries and a half. Greek artists were employed in the main, bringing their own tesserÆ and marbles. In 1204 there was special activity in this line, at the time when the Venetians took Constantinople. After this, an establishment for making the smalts and gold glass was set up at Murano, and Venice no longer imported its material.

The old Cathedral at Torcello has one of the most perfect examples of the twelfth century mosaic in the world. The entire west end of the church is covered with a rich display of figures and Scriptural scenes. A very lurid Hell is exhibited at the lower corner, in the depths of which are seen stewing, several Saracens, with large hoop earrings. Their faces are highly expressive of discomfort. This mosaic is full of genuine feeling; one of the subjects is Amphitrite riding a seahorse, among those who rise to the surface when "the sea gives up its dead." The Redeemed are seen crowding round Abraham, who holds one in his bosom; they are like an infant class, and are dressed in uniform pinafores, intended to look like little ecclesiastical vestments! The Dead who are being given up by the Earth are being vomited forth by wild animals—this is original, and I believe, almost the only occasion on which this form of literal resurrection is represented.

In the thirteenth century a large number of mosaic artists appeared in Florence, many of whose names and histories are available. In the Baptistery, Andrea Tafi, who lived between 1213 and 1294, decorated the cupola. With him were two assistants who are known by name—Apollonius a Greek, which in part accounts for the stiff Byzantine figures in this work, and another who has left his signature, "Jacobus Sancti Francisci Frater"—evidently a monastic craftsman. Gaddo Gaddi also assisted in this work, executing the Prophets which occur under the windows, and professing to combine in his style "the Greek manner and that of Cimabue." Apollonius taught Andrea Tafi how to compose the smalt and to mix the cement, but this latter was evidently unsuccessful, for in the next century the mosaic detached itself and fell badly, when Agnolo Gaddi, the grandson of Gaddo, was engaged to restore it. Tafi, Gaddi, and Jacobus were considered as a promising firm, and they undertook other large works in mosaic. They commenced the apse at Pisa, which was finished in 1321 by Vicini, Cimabue designing the colossal figure of Christ which thus dominates the cathedral.

Vasari says that Andrea Tafi was considered "an excellent, nay, a divine artist" in his specialty. Andrea, himself more modest, visited Venice, and deigned to take instruction from Greek mosaic workers, who were employed at St. Mark's. One of them, Apollonius, became attached to Tafi, and this is how he came to accompany him to Florence. The work on the Baptistery was done actually in situ, every cube being set directly in the plaster. The work is still extant, and the technical and constructive features are perfect, since their restoration. It is amusing to read Vasari's patronizing account of Tafi; from the late Renaissance point of view, the mosaic worker seemed to be a barbarous Goth at best: "The good fortune of Andrea was really great," says Vasari, "to be born in an age which, doing all things in the rudest manner, could value so highly the works of an artist who really merited so little, not to say nothing!"

Gaddo Gaddi was a painstaking worker in mosaic, executing some works on a small scale entirely in eggshells of varying tints. In the Baroncelli chapel in Florence is a painting by Taddeo Gaddi, in which occur the portraits of his father, Gaddo Gaddi, and Andrea Tafi.

About this time the delightful mosaic at St. Clemente, in Rome, was executed. With its central cross and graceful vine decorations, it stands out unique among the groups of saints and seraphs, of angels and hierarchies, of most of the Roman apsidal ornaments. The mosaic in the basilica of St. John Lateran is by Jacopo Torriti. In the design there are two inconspicuous figures, intentionally smaller than the others, of two monks on their knees, working, with measure and compass. These represent Jacopo Torriti and his co-worker, Camerino. One of them is inscribed (translated) "Jacopo Torriti, painter, did this work," and the other, "Brother Jacopo Camerino, companion of the master worker, commends himself to the blessed John." The tools and implements used by mosaic artists are represented in the hands of these two monks. Torriti was apparently a greater man in some respects than his contemporaries. He based his art rather on Roman than Greek tradition, and his works exhibit less Byzantine formality than many mosaics of the period. On the apse of Sta. Maria Maggiore there appears a signature, "Jacopo Torriti made this work in mosaic." Gaddo Gaddi also added a composition below the vault, about 1308.

The well-known mosaic called the Navicella in the atrium of St. Peter's, Rome, was originally made by Giotto. It has been much restored and altered, but some of the original design undoubtedly remains. Giotto went to Rome to undertake this work in 1298; but the present mosaic is largely the restoration of Bernini, who can hardly be considered as a sympathetic interpreter of the early Florentine style. Vasari speaks of the Navicella as "a truly wonderful work, and deservedly eulogized by all enlightened judges." He marvels at the way in which Giotto has produced harmony and interchange of light and shade so cleverly: "with mere pieces of glass" (Vasari is so naÏvely overwhelmed with ignorance when he comes to deal with handicraft) especially on the large sail of the boat.

In Venice, the Mascoli chapel was ornamented by scenes from the life of the Virgin, in 1430. The artist was Michele Zambono, who designed and superintended the work himself. At Or San Michele in Florence, the painter Peselli, or Guliano Arrigo, decorated the tabernacle, in 1416. Among other artists who entered the field of mosaic, were Baldovinetti and Domenico Ghirlandajo, the painter who originated the motto: "The only painting for eternity is mosaic."

In the sixteenth century the art of mosaic ceased to observe due limitations. The ideal was to reproduce exactly in mosaic such pictures as were prepared by Titian, Pordenone, Raphael, and other realistic painters. Georges Sand, in her charming novel, "Les Maitres MosaÏstes," gives one the atmosphere of the workshops in Venice in this later period. Tintoretto and Zuccato, the aged painter, are discussing the durability of mosaic:—"Since it resists so well," says Zuccato, "how comes it that the Seignory is repairing all the domes of St. Mark's, which to-day are as bare as my skull?" To which Tintoretto makes answer: "Because at the time when they were decorated with mosaics, Greek artists were scarce in Venice. They came from a distance, and remained but a short time: their apprentices were hastily trained, and executed the works entrusted to them without knowing their business, and without being able to give them the necessary solidity. Now that this art has been cultivated in Venice, century after century, we have become as skilful as even the Greeks were." The two sons of Zuccato, who are engaged in this work, confide to each other their trials and difficulties in the undertaking: like artists of all ages, they cannot easily convince their patrons that they comprehend their art better than their employers! Francesco complains of the Procurator, who is commissioned to examine the work: "He is not an artist. He sees in mosaic only an application of particles more or less brilliant. Perfection of tone, beauty of design, ingenuity of composition, are nothing to him.... Did I not try in vain the other day to make him understand that the old pieces of gilded crystal used by our ancestors and a little tarnished by time, were more favourable to colour than those manufactured to-day?" "Indeed, you make a mistake, Messer Francesco," said he, "in handing over to the Bianchini all the gold of modern manufacture. The Commissioners have decided that the old will do mixed with the new."... "But did I not in vain try to make him understand that this brilliant gold would hurt the faces, and completely ruin the effect of colour?"... The answer of the Procurator was, "The Bianchini do not scruple to use it, and their mosaics please the eye much better than yours," so his brother Valerio, laughing, asks, "What need of worrying yourself after such a decision as that? Suppress the shadows, cut a breadth of material from a great plate of enamel and lay it over the breast of St. Nicaise, render St. Cecilia's beautiful hair with a badly cut tile, a pretty lamb for St. John the Baptist, and the Commission will double your salary and the public clap its hands. Really, my brother, you who dream of glory, I do not understand how you can pledge yourself to the worship of art." "I dream of glory, it is true," replied Francesco, "but of a glory that is lasting, not the vain popularity of a day. I should like to leave an honoured name, if not an illustrious one, and make those who examine the cupolas of St. Mark's five hundred years hence say, 'This was the work of a conscientious artist.'" A description follows of the scene of the mosaic workers pursuing their calling. "Here was heard abusive language, there the joyous song; further on, the jest; above, the hammer: below, the trowel: now the dull and continuous thud of the tampon on the mosaics, and anon the clear and crystal like clicking of the glassware rolling from the baskets on to the pavement, in waves of rubies and emeralds. Then the fearful grating of the scraper on the cornice, and finally the sharp rasping cry of the saw in the marble, to say nothing of the low masses said at the end of the chapel in spite of the racket."

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.