AS we were intensely interested in tapestries we often went to the Museum to study and admire the most famous set in Brussels, an early Renaissance series of four pieces, called Notre Dame du Sablon.

These hangings illustrate an old fourteenth-century story, which I condense from Hunter’s delightful work on “Tapestries.” Beatrix Stoelkens, a poor woman of Antwerp, was told by the Virgin in a dream to get from the church of Notre Dame a little image of the Madonna. In obedience to the vision she obtained the statuette and took it to a painter, who decorated it in gold and colours. After Beatrix had returned it to the church, the Virgin clothed it with such grace that it inspired devotion in all who saw it. Then Our Lady appeared a second time to Beatrix, and directed her to carry the statue to Brussels. When she attempted to get it, the warden of the church interfered, but he found himself unable to move, and Beatrix bore away the little Madonna in triumph. She embarked for Brussels in an empty boat, which stemmed the current as if piloted by unseen hands. On arriving at her destination, she was received by the Duke of Brabant and the magistrates of the city, and the precious little statue was carried in procession to the church of Notre Dame du Sablon.

This set bears the date 1518, when Brussels was no longer under a Burgundian Duke, but Charles V was ruler of the Netherlands. The designer of the set followed the Gothic custom of representing the story under the forms of his own day, so, instead of the Duke of Brabant, Philip the Fair, father of Charles V, is pictured receiving the Madonna from the hands of Beatrix at the wharf, Charles V and his brother Ferdinand are bearing it in a litter to the church, and Margaret of Austria, aunt of Charles, kneels in prayer before the niche where the sacred image has been placed.

When in New York it always gives us pleasure to go to the Metropolitan Museum to see the finest Belgian set in the United States, the Burgundian Sacraments, woven in the early fifteenth century. This splendid example of Gothic workmanship was made in the days when Philip the Good had brought the power of Burgundy to its zenith. When the great Duke wanted to have magnificent hangings for the chamber of his son (who was afterward Charles the Bold), he ordered a set of tapestries from the weavers of Bruges. All that remains of this splendid work of art is now in the New York Museum—five pieces, which form half of the original set. The complete series consisted of two rows of scenes, the upper seven representing the Origin of the Seven Sacraments, the lower, the Seven Sacraments as Celebrated in the Fifteenth Century. This set shows wonderful weaving, “with long hatchings that interpret marvelously the elaborately figured costumes and damask ground.”

There are other exquisite tapestries in America, too, for the Committee of Safety in 1793 imported some American wheat into France, and when the time came to pay it proffered assignats. Naturally enough, the Americans objected, but there was no money. “Then they offered, and the United States was obliged to accept in payment, some Beauvais tapestries and some copies of the Moniteur.”

Tapestries required muscular strength, for the material was heavy, and so men were given this work in town workshops. The ladies did the needle, bobbin and pillow work in the castles and convents. True tapestry is always woven on a loom, and is a combination of artistic design with skill in weaving.

This tapestry industry was introduced into Western Europe in the Middle Ages by the Moors, but we can trace the art of making woven pictures to much earlier times. The ancient Romans had them. Ovid describes the contest in weaving between Arachne and Pallas, in which the maiden wrought more beautifully than the goddess. Pallas in anger struck the maid, who hanged herself in her rage because she dared not return the blow. The goddess, relenting, changed Arachne into a spider, and she continues her weaving to this day.

But a much earlier poet has described the making of tapestry. We read in the Odyssey that, when the return of Ulysses to his native land was long delayed, his faithful wife Penelope postponed a decision among the suitors who importuned her by promising to make a choice when she had finished weaving the funeral robe for Laertes, her husband’s father. The robe was never completed, for each night she took out the work of the day before.

It is a very interesting fact that a Grecian vase has come down to us on which is a painting of Penelope and her son Telemachus. Penelope is seated at what the experts say is certainly a tapestry loom, though somewhat different from those used at a later day.

We have no large pieces done by the Greeks and the Romans, but many small bands for use as trimmings of robes. Some of these were woven by the Greeks as early as the fourth century B.C., others were made in Egypt under Roman rule some centuries later, and are called Coptic. From these one can trace the series through the silken Byzantine, Saracenic and Moorish dress tapestries to the Gothic fabrics of the fourteenth century.

The Flemish and Burgundian looms were those of Arras, Brussels, Tournai, Bruges, Enghien, Oudenarde, Middlebourg, Lille, Antwerp, and Delft in Holland. The value of the tapestry industry to Flanders may be judged from the fact that Arras, a city of no importance whatever, from which not a single great artist had come, led all Europe for about two centuries in tapestry weaving.

Although some fine pieces were woven in the fourteenth century, as far as known, only two sets of Arras tapestries of this period are left. One set is at the cathedral of Angers in rather bad condition, for they were not appreciated at one time, and were used in a greenhouse and cut up as rugs. Fortunately, they have been restored and returned to the cathedral. The other set of early Arras hangings is to be found at the cathedral of Tournai, in Belgium. A piece of this set bore an inscription—which has fortunately been preserved for us—stating, “These cloths were made and completed in Arras by Pierrot FÉrÉ in the year one thousand four hundred two, in December, gracious month. Will all the saints kindly pray to God for the soul of Toussaint Prier?” Toussaint Prier, a canon of the cathedral in 1402, was the donor of the tapestries.

When Louis XI of France captured Arras, in 1477, and dispersed the weavers, Tournai, Brussels, Oudenarde and Enghien took up the work. The oldest Brussels tapestries known belong to the latter part of the fifteenth century. Two of these sets were painted by Roger van der Weyden and celebrated the Justice of Trajan and the Communion of Herkenbald. Some have tried to prove that other important tapestries were designed by the great primitives, but Max Rooses assures us the resemblance to their work comes from the fact that their characteristics, “careful execution, extreme delicacy of workmanship, and brilliancy of colour,” pervaded every branch of art at that period.

Brussels and Oudenarde held the lead throughout the sixteenth century. The Bruxellois wove vast historical compositions to decorate the palaces of kings; the weavers of Oudenarde produced landscapes, “verdures” and scenes from peasant life for the homes of burghers.

Tapestries are at their best as line drawings; when more complicated effects are sought “confusion and uncertainty follow.” The finest ever woven were produced during the last half of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth centuries, when Gothic tapestries gradually ceased to be made and Renaissance pieces began to take their place. During that hundred years, when the weavers were most skilful and were still satisfied with line drawings, many of the finest tapestries combined the characteristics of both styles.

In the sixteenth century, the weavers had such marvelous skill, however, that they actually reproduced the shadow effects of Italian designs. Even such great artists as Raphael and Michael Angelo drew cartoons, and stories of ten, twenty or even thirty scenes were woven, all showing the distinctive characters of Renaissance art. They combined breadth of composition and lively action with the introduction of nude figures and elaborate landscape and architectural settings. But in trying to copy painting too closely, they departed from the best traditions of tapestry technique, and deterioration was sure to follow in time.

After the desolating wars of the sixteenth century, when arts and industries revived under the Archdukes Albert and Isabella, Brussels weavers set up their looms again, and “Rubens brought new life into tapestry manufacture. He supplied the Brussels workshops with four great series—the History of Decius Mus, destined for some Genoese merchants; the Triumphs and Types of the Eucharist, ordered by the Infanta Isabella for the convent of the Clares at Madrid; the History of the Emperor Constantine, executed for Louis XIII; and the History of Achilles, for Charles I.... The Triumphs and Types of the Eucharist are the most powerful allegories ever created to glorify the mysteries of the Catholic religion.”[4]

Jacob Jordaens also designed tapestry cartoons, but the most popular artist among the weavers at the end of the seventeenth and in the eighteenth centuries was David Teniers. He did not himself make designs, but the manufacturers, especially at Oudenarde, borrowed his subjects, which were drawn largely from peasant and village life.

One reason why we have so few of the really antique tapestries is that in 1797 the market for them was so dead—owing to the increasing use of wall-papers and canvases painted in oils—that the French decided it would be better to burn them for the gold and silver they contained. Accordingly, “One hundred and ninety were burned. During the French Revolution, a number of tapestries that bore feudal emblems were also burned at the foot of the Tree of Liberty.” At this time, when they were not in fashion, many rare old hangings were cut up by the inartistic or the ignorant and used as rugs and curtains.

But in recent years, we are told, the Brothers BraqueniÉ have set up a workshop at Malines, where they have produced a fine series for the HÔtel de Ville in Brussels, called “Les Serments et les MÉtiers de Bruxelles.” The cartoons for this set were made by Willem Geefs, the painter.

As to the material, there is a great difference. Gothic tapestries are composed of woolen weft on linen, or woolen on hemp warp, and are often enriched with gold and silver thread. These are not used today, as they are considered too expensive. Since the sixteenth century, Brussels, Gobelins, and Mortlake have used a great deal of silk. In the fifteenth century fifteen or twenty colours were employed, in the Renaissance period, twenty or thirty.

“Both high warp and low warp antedated the shuttle. In other words, they use bobbins that travel only part way across instead of shuttles that travel all the way across.” The high warp loom was also in use before the treadle. “In the low warp loom the odd threads of the warp are attached to a treadle worked with the left foot, the even threads of the warp to a treadle worked with the right foot, thus making possible the manipulation of the warp with the feet and leaving both hands free to pass the bobbins. In the high warp loom, that has no treadle, the warps are manipulated with the left hand while the right hand passes the bobbins back and forth. The term high warp means that the warp is strung vertically, low warp horizontally.”

Both are woven with the wrong side toward the weaver. “The wrong side in all real tapestries is just the same as the right side except for reversal of direction and for the loose threads.... In the high warp loom, the outline of the design is traced on the warp threads with India ink from tracing paper, and the coloured cartoon hangs behind the weaver, where he consults it constantly. In the low warp loom, the coloured cartoon is usually beneath the warp, and often rolls up with the tapestry as it is completed.”[5] In the eighteenth century, the low warp loom was considered better than the haute lisse, or high warp.

Great care has to be taken in dyeing the threads of the weft, which are much finer than those of the warp. Vegetable dyes, such as cochineal, madder, indigo, etc., must be used, for permanent colours can never be obtained with aniline dyes. The old Spanish dyes were considered the best. In this country, one sometimes gets the fine colours in an old Mexican serape or a prized Navajo blanket. The wool that is used to mend old tapestries in the American museums is coloured with dyes made by Miss Charlotte Pendleton in her workshop near Washington, which I have visited.

The Arras tapestries have a better and more attractive texture than any others. “Arras tapestries are line drawings formed by the combination of horizontal ribs with vertical weft threads and hatchings. There are no diagonal or irregular or floating threads, as in embroideries and brocades. Nor do any of the warp threads show, as in twills and damasks. The surface consists entirely of fine weft threads that completely interlace the coarser warp threads in plain weave (over and under alternately), and also completely cover them, so that only the ribs mark their position—one rib for each warp thread. Every Arras tapestry is a rep fabric, the number of ribs eight to twenty-four to the inch.” The finely woven textures are not always considered the best. “The most marvelous tapestries of the fifteenth century were comparatively coarse (from eight to twelve ribs), and of the sixteenth were moderately coarse (from ten to sixteen).”

Many of the early Gothic tapestries had inscriptions woven at the bottom or the top, but had no borders. It was not until toward the end of the fifteenth century that they began to develop these. They first had narrow verdure edgings, until Raphael introduced compartment borders in the set of the Gates of the Apostles, the most famous tapestries of the world. The most noted cartoons in existence are the designs for this set, in the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington. Renaissance borders were much wider than the Gothic, and were filled with greens and flowers. At the end of the seventeenth century the borders took the form of imitation picture frames.

Gothic verdures are in reality coloured drawings in flat outline of trees and flowers with birds and animals. Renaissance verdures have more heavily shaded leaves and look more true to nature.

The majority of Gothic tapestries are anonymous as regards both maker and designer. With the Renaissance began the custom in Brussels and other Flemish cities of weaving the mark of the city into the bottom selvage, and the monogram of the weaver into the side selvage on the right. This custom was established by a city ordinance of Brussels in 1528. An edict of Charles V made it uniform, in 1544, for the whole of the Netherlands. After another century, weavers began to sign their full names or their initials in Roman letters, and monograms were discarded.

When the weavers of Arras took refuge in other countries, after the capture of that town by Louis XI, they went by thousands to England and France. In this way the French looms at Gobelins, Beauvais, and Aubusson were started, and those at Mortlake, in England.

As early as the fourteenth century, there was at least one eminent master weaver in Paris, Nicolas Bataille, in whose factory part of the remarkable Apocalypse set of the cathedral of Angers was woven. But even in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, French tapestries were far from equaling those of Flanders. In 1667, Colbert “established in the buildings of the Gobelins the furniture factory of the Crown under the direction of Charles Lebrun.”

The great establishment of “Les Gobelins,” by the way, has an interesting history. Jean and Philibert Gobelin built a dyehouse in the fifteenth century by the little stream of the BiÈvre, in the Faubourg, whose waters had peculiar qualities that gave special excellence to their dyes. The family found dyeing so profitable that they were able to become bankers, and at the beginning of the seventeenth century they sold the establishment, which, however, still kept their name. Here Comans and Planche, tapestry weavers from Flanders, opened a factory in 1601. The edict of Henri Quatre by which they were incorporated gave them important privileges, but also obliged them to train apprentices and to establish the craft in the provinces.

During the Spanish occupation of the Netherlands, many tapestries were taken to Spain, where the finest in existence today are to be found. They may be seen in the churches and draping the balconies over the streets of a fÊte day. King Alfonso owns seven miles of gold and silver thread hangings. But these are only the remnant of what Spanish royalty formerly possessed. Charles V, Philip II, and many others of the ruling house were indefatigable collectors. The famous Conquest of Tunis, in twelve pieces, was woven by Willem de Pannemaker, the most noted of the master-weavers, for Charles V. The cartoons for this set are in the Imperial Museum in Vienna and the tapestries in the royal palace in Madrid. “Many pieces that formerly belonged to the kings of Spain have been destroyed by fire; others have been worn out by long and frequent use. For these tapestries did not remain in a fixed place: they were hung in halls and apartments on festive occasions; they were taken down and rolled up when they had done service; they were used on journeys to furnish the lodgings en route; they were packed with the campaign-baggage to garnish the tents; they decorated the jousting lists and the streets and squares when the sovereigns made their entries.”

Tapestries can also be found in Russia in palaces and museums, for Peter the Great sent for weavers from Flanders. England, too, was dependent upon the Flemings, for the noted weaver, Philip de Maecht, came from the atelier of Comans and Planche to become head of the works at Mortlake.

In 1376, the Court of Savoy ordered many tapestries from the great manufacturer, Nicolas Bataille, but later factories were opened in Italy. About 1455, Renard de Marncourt, another Flemish weaver, made in Rome for Pope Nicholas V the marvelous set of the Creation of the World. There were also tapestry works at Ferrara with prominent Flemings at their head. Nicholas and Jean Karcher were employed there by Duke Hercules II. Jean Roost, of Brussels, was head of a factory at Florence, in which work was continued for over two hundred years. Cardinal Francisco Barberini, after his visit to France in 1633, when he became interested in the works of Comans and Planche, started another factory in Rome. Nicholas Poussin and Pietro de Cortona supplied designs, the art director was Jean FranÇois Romanelli, and the manager Jacopo della Riviera.

Among our own tapestries, the Diana set of eight pieces came from the Barberini collection. The cartoons of these were done by du Breuil. This series possesses remarkable decorative qualities and is of great historical importance. The panels were woven in Brussels at the close of the sixteenth or the beginning of the seventeenth century, in the ateliers of Jacques Geubles and Jean Raes, who were among the most famous weavers of their time. The mark of Brussels and Brabant is woven in the bottom galon of every one of the pieces, and the monograms of the authors, that of Raes in the upper part and that of Geubles in the lower part, although it is most unusual to find all the panels signed by the artists collaborating in their production. The original linings of these tapestries bore the stamped monogram of Cardinal Francisco Barberini and also that of Cardinal Antonio Barberini. In MSS. XLVIII of Vol. 141, preserved in the Barberini library, these tapestries are mentioned as having been “presented by the most Christian King Louis XIII of France to Cardinal Barberini, Legate to France, 1625.”

Cardinal Francisco Barberini, when he visited the Court of France in 1625, went as Legate of his uncle, Pope Urban VIII, to settle upon terms of peace for Europe. These hangings then became part of the collection owned by the princely Barberini of Rome, which in time came to be renowned and was regarded as one of the most splendid in the world.

The subjects seem to be allegorical representations of the Loves of Henry of France and Diana of Poictiers, as has been agreed by some of the most important authorities who have studied them, for the faces in the tapestries show a distinct resemblance to portraits of the King and his favourite. Engravings of the heads of Henry and Diana, as can be seen in the Gazette des Beaux Arts, exhibit striking likenesses to those on the woven fabric. In the Gazette there is an illustration which shows the chÂteau of Anet, with gardens such as are represented in the tapestries, with a fountain, and Diana standing with the crescent in her hair, her bow in her hand and a quiver at her back, wearing a costume similar in style and character. Montaiglon writes of the chÂteau of Anet, that the altars were destroyed and the statues torn from their bases and carried off in pieces, as is suggested in one panel which represents a rushing river sweeping away columns and statues from their foundations. Mythology teaches that the legendary Diana punished mothers who deserted their children, and succoured their offspring, as is again suggested in this same panel of Diana of Poictiers, who did more, history relates, to bring up the children of the King than did the Queen. The beautiful Madame d’Estampes and her coterie did everything in their power to destroy Diana; pasquinades and libelous brochures were levied against her. The dragon in one panel represents jealousy, spite and vindictiveness in its flaming eyes, scaly hide and protruding tongue. Also, in allegorical manner, nothing could better express the triumph which the King accorded Diana when he “broke her enemies and humiliated them,” than the picture of the King slaying the dragon. The set is full of interesting detail—there are dogs and hares, nymphs and satyrs. All the details combine to tell the story, and in one piece the monarch wears a crown, which emphasizes the royalty of the lover.

Seven of the tapestries were originally acquired from the Princess Barberini, although inventories suggested that there were eight in the full series; strangely enough, several years later, the missing one was discovered by another collector in Amsterdam, but this had had its border cut off, as would naturally be the case in a stolen tapestry. We were able to get it, so that now the set is once more complete after hundreds of years.

The David and Goliath series is also in our possession, and is a representative set. These tapestries illustrate prominent events in the story of David and Goliath, and were made in Flanders in the second half of the sixteenth century. They are in excellent condition, without repair, and possess borders of delicious character.

This set was presented by Cardinal d’Este, Papal Legate at the Court of Charles IX of France, to Count Flaminio Mannelli, who was then his secretary and had filled in various ways honourable offices at the Court and in the service of the Dowager Queen Catherine de Medici.

A record of the period shows that about 1587 the hangings were brought to Count Mannelli’s palace, in the Marche of Italy, where they remained until 1898, when we purchased them from the Marquis Pianetti of Jesi, who had come into possession of the set. The six different panels depict literally the scenes described in the Bible. The titles are: David before Saul, the Challenge of Goliath of Gath, the Battle between Goliath and David, the Beheading of Goliath, the Triumph of David, and the Madness of Saul.

When we were in Belgium, the home of tapestry, I was surprised to find comparatively few pieces there. Many more, as I have said, are seen in Italy and Spain, some in France and England, and a few in America, where we are beginning to appreciate them.