Section I Manuscripts Decorated With Miniatures by Tory
1. COMMENTAIRES DE CÉSAR.
2. TRIOMPHES DE PÉTRARQUE.
For a description of these two manuscripts299 I cannot do better than transcribe in this place the interesting work of Comte Léon de Laborde. I print this work just as it was published several years ago, having no authority to modify it. But I think that I may venture to say that if it had been prepared since the publication of my book on Tory, it would contain a judgement in his favour. That seems to me to be the result of my conversations with M. de Laborde. My friend M. Jules Renouvier, whose death is so deeply to be deplored, and in whose company I examined the volume of the ‘Commentaires’ in the Bibliothèque Nationale, was entirely of my opinion. He spoke of the manuscript in question in these terms in a critical review of the first edition of my book on Tory, printed in the ‘Revue Universelle des Arts’ for September, 1857 (vol. v, no. 6, p. 511):—
‘The point that we knew least about was Tory’s début in the career of an artist. It was most brilliant if we agree with M. Bernard that he was the author of the miniatures found in two well-known manuscripts, the “Commentaires de César” in three volumes and the “Triomphes de Pétrarque,” in which we find the signatures “G,” and “Godefroy,” and the dates 1519 and 1520. M. de Laborde has recently described them with all the care that they deserve, without discovering who this Godefroy was. He was no other than Geofroy Tory, says M. Bernard, and this opinion is plausible; for, if the subsequent work of the engraver on wood does not fulfil the promise of the miniaturist, the drawing is governed by identical characteristics, and the similarity of style is striking, especially when we consider the engravings that are nearest in point of time, as those of “Champ fleury,” dated 1526. Considered from this point of view, Geofroy Tory is the most precocious of the artists of the Renaissance: before the masters of Fontainebleau, he introduced the stately, graceful and individualized figures, which aroused enthusiasm in the time of François I, to which Italy lent much of her style, and Germany a little of her force, but which were more thoroughly French than is generally admitted. It is well known, moreover, that these miniatures were originally, even in the “camaieu” process, heightened in effect by chatoyant tones, with subtleties of drawing which denote a hand more apt to handle the pencil than the brush, and altogether adapted to the tools of the engraver. The draughtsman loses a part of his distinction in passing from a privileged to a commonplace form of art; but so the progress of art willed.’
The work of M. Léon de Laborde follows:—
GODEFROY, PAINTER TO FRANÇOIS I.
Godefroy has left us, in four small volumes,—the first three entitled ‘Commentaires de César,’ the fourth ‘Triomphes de Pétrarque’—the proof of a fruitful imagination, of a talent in portrait-painting no less flexible than varied, and of a superiority original with himself, and thoroughly French,—a very unusual combination of the qualities peculiar to our school prior to the formation of the school of Fontainebleau, and of the qualities—or, to speak more accurately, the defects—which that colony of foreign artists was soon to introduce in our midst.
These four volumes, after divers vicissitudes, repose at last, at the end of their journeyings and safe from the risk of destruction, the first in the British Museum at London, the second in the Bibliothèque Nationale at Paris, the third in the collection of H. R. H. the Duc d’Aumale, and the fourth in the Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal. I will describe first the ‘Commentaires de César,’ a beautiful manuscript, the three volumes of which I have had before me one by one. There are in this work three things worthy of remark, to which I shall direct the reader’s attention for a brief space. First, the composition of the work; second, the painting of the decorations; and lastly, the portraits.
The author, a native of Flanders or Artois, transplanted to the Court of France, displays no overplus of wit or imagination. He supposes that King François I, in one of his excursions, or while hunting, meets Julius Cæsar, and that they converse. The subject of their dialogue is the Gallic war; it is a sort of commentary on Cæsar’s Commentaries, with transparent allusions to the events of the reign of François I. It is in these allusions that we detect the author’s predilection for the Belgæ,300 with whose country he is familiar, and particularly for the city of Tournay,301 which may well have been his native place. I do not propose to draw any inference from his hatred of the English302; although more violent in our northern provinces than elsewhere, that sentiment was then universal in France. It would seem, at least so far as the implements of war are concerned, that the painter who was employed to embellish the manuscript worked under the author’s direction. We find in several places remarks like this: ‘The tower is sufficiently described by the engines that I have caused to be drawn herein.’
For the rest, we feel that we have to do with a conscientious author; and simply by the extracts which follow, we may recognize the man who is uncertain and hesitates, the student who leaves every one in possession of his rights and who confides his doubts to the reader. On the eighth leaf of volume two he has instructed Godefroy, the painter, to reproduce an antique medallion; he writes in the margin: ‘I fear that it is not that Cassius who was a conspirator in the death of Cæsar, for his name was Caius Cassius, and I find on the medallion Quintus Cassius.’ As to one of the pictures of machines of war he makes this comment: ‘Certain pictures of implements of war, as they are portrayed by Frère Jocunde in book x of Vitruvius.’ Beside another, he says: ‘I am not the inventor of the machines which follow, for I found them in a book that I secured long ago at Chastellerault, at the Lyon d’or.’
To this curious piece of information let us add another,303 which tells us that the author of the book was in relations with an artist of Blois, a clock-maker and inventive genius: ‘The two pictures that follow [two warlike machines] were taken from a book that Julian, clock-maker at Bloys, gave me.—Julian is a man of great wit and knows many things.’
A passage on folio xxii verso of the second volume seems to prove that the manuscript was written during the years 1519 and 1520: ‘By the map [a map of Gaul] placed at the beginning of the translation of the first book made at Saint Germain en Laye in the month of April in the year one thousand five hundred nineteen, you will see clearly who the Belgæ are.’
After the author, it is proper to speak of the calligrapher who wrote the manuscript; but there is nothing to be said save that it is in a fair hand. The painter Godefroy deserves more consideration and careful attention. Let us not forgot that we are dealing with a perfectly well-fixed time, limited to the years 1519 and 1520; let us, at the same time, recall the great national movement in art in France from 1450 to 1500, the Italian campaigns, the arrival of artists and objects of art from Italy during the reigns of Charles VIII and Louis XII, and lastly, and above all, the sojourn in France of the two great Italian masters, Leonardo da Vinci and Andrea del Sarto, from 1515 to 1518. Born and trained amid such influences, a French painter undertakes to decorate a manuscript for King François I. What does he do to satisfy the prevailing taste, the fashion, without denying his past? He divides his talent into two parts,304 and devotes one, the French part, to the portraits, the other, the Italian imitation, to the decorations; in both he gives proof of abundant talent. In the one case, an exact, shrewd observer, he paints faces by faithfully reproducing their individual traits; in the other, fertile, never the same, abounding in resources in the ensemble and the details of his compositions, he is the pupil of Leonardo da Vinci, with suggestions of Mantegna and the artists of the first Italian Renaissance in the proportion of the figures, in the ungracefulness of the attitudes, and in the types of the heads.
From this period, from these influences, and not from Primaticcio, who was himself subjected to them, dates the Fontainebleau school. It was adapted to the figure and the type of beauty of Diana de Poitiers; she encouraged it; but, I say again, it was formed, it was current, before the reign of the mistress of Henri II and before the painter who is its most characteristic expression. If we seek to discover what method of execution was adopted by Godefroy, we see that his portraits are charming miniatures, comparable with the finest examples that we have of French miniature-painting; as for the drawings,305 there are some that are almost grisailles, almost coloured—a mongrel and conventional scheme, of very doubtful taste. The painter drew his whole subject with the pen, with a sureness of touch which, it must be said, has no parallel in such microscopical dimensions, especially with respect to the faces and the landscapes; then he laid in the general outline, with the brush and with sepia, in flat tones, rather lacking in life. Thus far he did not depart from the canons of art; but he added coloured costumes, suits of armour, gilded trappings, and a multitude of details which flutter about in his grisaille and depart from nature in a most extraordinary way. I have said that his figures are reminiscences of Italian works. We find among them Donatellesque forms, profiles perdus, and bold gestures that recall Mantegna, Perugino-like graceful attitudes and ways of carrying the head, and, in spite of everything, a French background, and points of resemblance to Holbein, which might be taken to signify that Godefroy had never seen Italy. Our national Renaissance had made such progress in nearly a century that our artists needed only a few drawings, a few engravings, with the impulsion given by Leonardo da Vinci and Andrea del Sarto, to enter that Italian current. It may be that our compatriot, like Holbein, was subjected to this influence from afar, at second hand, without having crossed the mountains.
First volume.306—The book opens with a map of Gaul, and we read on the verso of the first leaf the following passage, written within a cartouche: ‘Françoys, by the grace of God, King of France, a second Cæsar, vanquisher and subduer of the Souycez [Swiss], on the last day of April, one month after the birth of his second son, in his park of Sainct-Germain-en-Laye, fell in with Julius Cæsar and questioned him shrewdly concerning the contents of the first book of the Commentaries.’ In another cartouche is a passage of which we need transcribe no more than the first words: ‘Cæsar, first subjugator of the Helvecez [Helvetii, Swiss], graciously made reply to him,’ etc.
On the third leaf Godefroy has painted the portrait of François I, head and shoulders alone, in a medallion. He wears his usual costume and the cap, without a feather, adorned with a banner. His features and his whole countenance are idealized—they are a little stiff and sharp; the artist has sought to produce an ideal antique head. The first miniature, on the verso of the fifth leaf, bears the date 1519, with no monogram; the others—folios 9, 13, 17, 21, 23, 31, 33, 36, 43, 53, 60, and so on to the end—are signed with a G, and dated the same year. On the miniature painted on the recto of folio 53, the initial of the artist’s name is traced on the trunk of a tree from which hangs a small cartouche with the words, ‘Besanson, 1519.’ To be sure, the corresponding passage in the text requires that the miniature in question should represent that venerable city, but a certain precision in the details, and a sort of predilection manifested in the care bestowed upon the execution, lead me to believe that the view was painted after nature, and that Godefroy was attached to that city by some bond.
I have already spoken of the special characteristics of these miniatures, and I will mention here only the one on folio 23, which represents the building of a bridge over the Saône. In the foreground we see figures reminiscent of the painter Mantegna in their activity, their vigour, and a certain almost antique grace. The artist has retained the long pointed shoes to mark the Frenchman; this is an ill-timed display of archæological learning.
The volume, a large octavo, shaped like a notebook, contains 76 leaves, including the map. It is in its original binding of red morocco, with ornaments of wreaths of fleurs-de-lis, stamped with small tools. One can see the marks of the ribbons which were used to close it and to keep the vellum from puckering. On the recto of the first leaf, below the map of Gaul, are the words: ‘Bibliothecæ Christophori Justelli.’ This note, while it establishes the antiquity of the manuscript, also explains its emigration to England. Christophe Justel, Councillor and Secretary to the King, died at Paris in 1649, at the age of seventy, leaving to his son, together with the taste for study, a valuable collection of books and manuscripts. Among the latter was this first volume of the ‘Commentaires de César.’ Henri Justel succeeded his father in the office of Secretary to the King; also in his literary studies and in the liberality with which his library and house were thrown open to scholars. The letters of all the learned men of the time bear witness to his hospitality offered to learning.
He published at Paris, in 1661, the ‘Bibliotheca juris canonici veteris ex antiquis codd. mss. bibliothecæ Christophori Justelli,’ in two folio volumes, and he seemed destined to pursue in peace his erudite career. But the tempest called the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes was preceded, for far-seeing Protestants, by premonitory signs which were enough for Henri Justel. He packed up his books and crossed to England, where he was appointed Librarian to the King—an office which he held until his death in 1698. The manuscript of the ‘Commentaires’ was probably purchased at the sale of his library by Robert Harley, Earl of Oxford. The Lord Treasurer of England (1661-1724) found consolation for the ingratitude of men in forming that magnificent collection, which retains the name of the Harleian Collection in the British Museum.
Our manuscript, however, reached that haven only with the second part of Robert Harley’s books and manuscripts, in 1754.
Second Volume.307—The first miniature represents François I on horseback, in hunting costume, wearing the chapeau with plumes. The King is urging his horse to the right. Above his head a crowned F in gold stands out against the blue background of a shield. This was a device for disclosing his identity to those who were not struck by the likeness. In the middle distance is a huntsman, galloping in the same direction as the King and blowing his horn. Over his head floats a banderole, bearing the name ‘PEROT.’308 On a stone between the legs of the King’s horse is the initial letter of the artist’s name; and beneath, in a frame (separated, however, by a running dog), the date 1519. The border is of the utmost grace of design, and leaves room for a few words of the text, which begins thus:—
‘Françoys, by the grace of God King of France, desiring to exercise his lusty youth by violent labour, early in the month of August in the year one thousand five hundred nineteen, went forth to course the stag in the forest of Byevre, and gave order that on that day those dogs should course which he had chosen to lead the pack, because they are surer than the others. Gaillart was of the number, as was Gallehault, and pretty Rameau. Arbault, Gerfault, and Billehault went in their company.
‘The King was following the stag very close and was riding at full speed when he fell in with the chaste Diana. The King was overcome with joy, and having forgotten his quarry, he was all amazed that the vision vanished and he remained all alone in deepest thought. But soon after he saw beside him an ancient man of venerable aspect. He knew upon hearing him speak that it was his friend Julius Cæsar, whom he had met in like manner, only three months before, in his park at Sainte-Germain-en-Laye.’
Thereupon they enter into conversation upon Cæsar’s campaigns.
Godefroy’s plates, almost all of which are signed with a G and dated 1519, are on these leaves: 2 verso, 3 verso, 4 verso, 5 verso, 7 verso, 9 verso, 20 recto, 22 verso, 28 recto, 33 verso, 34 verso, 36 verso, 37 verso, 43 recto, 46 verso, 48 verso, 59 verso, 62 verso, 78 verso, 90 recto.
The medallions, which are copied from the antique, are admirably executed in gold on a blue ground, the models being delicately outlined in sepia. They are on leaves 6 verso, 8 recto, 9 verso, 10 verso, 11 recto and verso, 12 recto and verso, 13 recto and verso.
Warlike machines, copied from other drawings, and consequently lacking the life imparted by the representation of real objects, fill leaves 39 recto and verso, 40 recto and verso, 41 recto, 91 recto and verso, 92 recto and verso, 93 recto and verso, 94 recto.
Lastly, the portraits may be found on the leaves which I am now about to enumerate. I will add nothing to what I have said of their perfection, generally speaking, reserving my comments for the points of interest suggested by the manuscript itself. These portraits, as one might have anticipated, and as is proved by leaf 52 most directly, are copies of originals which antedate the manuscript. They are painted in miniature, surrounded by three circles of black and gold; the whole medallion is fifty-two millimeters in diameter, the miniature forty.
Leaf 25 verso: Quintus Pedius. Such is the title given by the scribe; but a different hand has written in the margin, in cursive characters: ‘Le grand maistre de Boissy, aged 41 years.’ I am inclined to see in these marginal annotations the hand of the author rather than that of the artist. This portrait is three-quarters full, turned to the left, with a cap on its head, the hair in a net, a collar of some order around the neck, face tranquil, expression shrewd.
Leaf 35 recto: Le Fiable Divitiacus Dautun. (‘Admiral de Boissy, seigneur de Bonivet, aged 34 years.’) Three-quarters full, turned to the right.
Leaf 36: Quintus Titurius Sabinus. (‘Odet de Foues, Sieur de Lautrec, aged 41 years.’) Three-quarters full, turned to the left.
Leaf 42: Iccius. (‘Le mareschal de Chabanes, seigneur de la Palice, aged 57 years.’) Three-quarters full, turned to the left, expression slightly haughty.
Leaf 52: Lucius Aruculeius Cotta. (‘Anne de Montmorency, aged 22 years, afterwards connestable de France.’)
Leaf 73: Publius Sextius Baculus. (‘Le mareschal de Fleuranges, son of Robert de la Marche, first seigneur de Sedan, aged 24 years.’) Three-quarters full, turned to the left.
Leaf 76 verso: Publius Crassus. (‘Le sieur de Tournon who was killed at the battle of Pavia, aged 36 years.’) Three-quarters full, turned to the left.
On the verso of leaf 89 we find these words: ‘Thus Cæsar made an end of speaking and forthwith disappeared. The radiant Diana, who knew the paths of the forest of Bièvre, and of all time was privy to and understood the laws of the chase, remounted, and by so straight a course led the King, who had lost the dogs, that within a few hours, near the forest of Fontainebleau, he saw them hunting better than before. And he was the first of all at the death of the stag, but he had with him only pretty Arbault and the beautiful Greffière, for Diana and Aurora had left him and had gone their ways.’
The two dogs are represented in the miniature; they are attacking the stag, while the King makes ready to stab him.
This volume, containing 98 leaves, is bound in black morocco, which has grown rusty; it bears these words stamped in the leather: ‘Tomus Secundus.’ It is catalogued in the Supplément Français, as no. 1328. Its history, as told among the habitués of the Bibliothèque Nationale, is as follows: M. Van-Praët appeared at the Conservatoire one day with an exultant air; he had this fascinating manuscript in his hand, and announced that he had purchased it for the Bibliothèque for 1200 francs. He expected to gladden the hearts of his comrades, to call forth expressions of gratitude; far from it; on the contrary, they found fault both with that method of purchasing, without authority, and with the price that he had paid. M. Van-Praët made haste to banish the scruples of his inflexible directors, and to put an end to the unpleasant discussion that was beginning, by declaring that the purchase had been made for himself and not for the Bibliothèque; then, when the meeting was adjourned, he hastened to his friends the brothers Debure, and, with a bursting heart, told them of his misadventure. They appreciated Van-Praët’s regrets too thoroughly to try to calm them; but they knew also that he was not rich enough to keep the manuscript, and they bought for their own little collection, at the price that he had paid, that charming product of French art, still bleeding from the reception that it had met with at the hands of the great so-called ‘national’ collection. Years and years had passed since this strange performance, when, in 1852, a small package was brought to M. Naudet, with the information that M. Debure, by his last will, had ordered that this manuscript, embellished with paintings by Godefroy, which had been purchased for the Bibliothèque and spurned by it, should be restored to it as its property.
One does not know which to admire more in this testamentary disposition of the famous bookseller—the keenness of his irony or the nobility of his act. Without exerting itself overmuch to decide that point the Conservatoire of the Bibliothèque Impériale welcomed the prodigal child and deposited it in the Supplément Français. But, with a lingering remnant of spite, its light was hidden under the bushel of ‘la réserve’; which is one way of preventing people from having access to it with the facility which assists investigations, under the protection of that liberality which is one of our claims to honour among foreign nations, and which the government of the Bibliothèque should have preserved, even at the price of the inconvenience that it might have caused.
Third Volume.309—Original binding, with the title: ‘Cæsaris liber tertius.’ The text begins thus:—
‘On the twenty-seventh day of February, one thousand five hundred XX, the King being in his park of Congnac, seeing that the splendour of his entry was like to be marred by the inclemency of the weather, took shelter in the house of the labyrinth, having with him monsieur l’Admiral and the young and discreet Sieur de la Rochepot. At the entrance to the lower room he feels and hears so violent a wind that it seems to him “quam spiritu vehementi” the lofty trees fall to the earth as on Friday the ninth day of March one thousand VᶜᶜXX in divers places about Paris.’
The result of all this uproar is the appearance of Julius Cæsar. François I questions him as to what he did after pacifying Gaul. Whereupon Cæsar replies:—
‘I tell you that, after divers victories won by me, so high an opinion of me and so great renown were spread among the barbarian peoples, that ambassadors were sent to me by the nations beyond the Rhine, who in the name of their cities promised to give hostages to me and to obey my commands. But, for that I was in haste to go thence, I bade them return to me in the summer season. Thereafter I led my legions to winter quarters in the land of Touraine and in the duchy of Madame your mother. And that done, I went hence to Italy.’
This volume is supplied with two maps: one, of Aquitaine, is at the beginning, the other, of Bretagne, at the end of the volume, which contains also no less than twelve large miniatures. The King, in hunting costume, figures again and again in them. The execution is as careful, and the paintings of the same type, as in the two earlier volumes. All the miniatures and the maps are signed with a G, and some of them are dated 1520. On folio 52, the painter’s name is written in full: ‘Godefroy.’
The former owner of this fine manuscript writes to me: ‘I cannot furnish you with any interesting information concerning the manuscript of the “Commentaires de César.” It was given to me, only the slightest importance being attached to the gift, by a resident of Tours, who owned no books, and who had kept it for forty years in his closet. To tell you how it came into my hands would be the more difficult because that person has long been dead. The volume was delivered to me in very bad condition. I employed Duru to repair the back and to rebind it, leaving intact the covers, which were of the original sixteenth-century binding. A small engraving, which resembled niello-work, but was recognized as the work of Étienne de Laulne, an engraver of Orléans, was at the beginning of the book.’
Obliged, in 1850, by circumstances which it is needless to detail, although they were to his honour, to part with this precious volume, its owner sent it to Paris, to M. Techener, for sale on commission. He wanted 2000 francs for it, and first of all the bookseller offered it to the Bibliothèque Nationale. The Conservatoire of that great collection could not find that amount in its annual credit of 80,000 francs, and it renewed the old joke which had temporarily banished the second volume. Unfortunately one does not meet every day, to repair its errors, generous booksellers like M. Debure, or those who have it in their power to be as generous as he; and M. Techener, who was richer than our rich collection of books for the purpose of purchasing this manuscript, was not rich enough to present it to that collection. He advertised it in the ‘Bulletin du Bibliophile’ for 1850 (no. 1222), for 3000 francs. During a whole year, artists and curious folk (I was among the latter) were at liberty to examine it at leisure and to lament the advent of English dealers who threatened every moment to take it from us. At last, Monseigneur le Duc d’Aumale added it to his treasures of printed books and manuscripts, and, although in England, one may say now that it belongs to France. Indeed, it may be that M. Debure’s example will be followed some day, and that this third volume will come to join the second on the shelves of our magnificent department of manuscripts, awaiting the time when the fortunate result of negotiations with the British Museum shall permit the consummation of the work by means of exchanges.310
Godefroy’s facile talent could not fail to be fruitful of results, and some of his works may be found in several collections. The Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal owns one of them, the ‘Triomphes de Pétrarque,’ which seems, in view of the exuberance of the subjects, the exaggeration of the artist’s defects, and the laxness of execution, to be of later date than the ‘Commentaires de César’; and, whether because the artist had visited Italy, or because, the better to interpret the poet’s ideas, he sought inspiration in Italian works, it is certain that he is less French in the illustrations of this manuscript than in the others. He is more perfect, too, in the art of composition, his distances are more accurately measured, his groups are more in harmony with one another; in a word, he displays an inspiration, or resources, altogether new: such, for example, as the device of cutting off the figures in the foreground at the waist, by means of rising ground, whereby he is able to give them strongly proportioned frames without filling up his whole picture.
I will describe this manuscript briefly. It is a small octavo volume of ten leaves (not including the covers), written on fine parchment. It is about 10 centimetres in height by 8 in width. It was rebound in the eighteenth century, in lemon-colored morocco.
‘Here followeth the first of the six triumphs of the most illustrious and venerable poet Messire Francisque Petrarque: the which is the triumph of Love and containeth four chapters.’
Chapter I. A miniature painted on pages 2 and 3, which face each other. It represents the triumph of Love, with a deal of disorder and somewhat licentious details. The G can be seen in the foreground, in the centre of the picture, on the ground.
Chapter II. The miniature has been removed.
Chapter III. The miniature occupies the verso of the title of the chapter. In the foreground are amorous couples discoursing together, some seated, some walking about. The men wear caps with long feathers, as in the bas-reliefs of the hôtel de Bourgtheroude. The architectural arrangement in the background is charming. Beside a triumphal arch rises the tower of love. Flames are darting from all its windows, and meanwhile a long procession of women rushes through the door, followed by a Cupid with bandaged eyes. The artist has painted his initial on the tower.
Chapter IV. In this miniature, Petrarch’s face, twice repeated, seems to be a reproduction of an original portrait. The G can just be distinguished on a rock in the foreground; it has been effaced.
‘Here followeth the second triumph of Messire Francisque Petrarque, the which is the triumph of Chastity.’
The miniature occupies two facing pages, but it forms two distinct pictures. The buildings in the background are arranged in a quasi-Italian style, but are not a reproduction of any known structure. Godefroy has placed his G on a tree, at the left, accompanied by three lizards—a detail which should not be passed over, for it is repeated several times, as if the name of those creatures bore some relation to that of the artist.
‘Triumph of Death, the which is the third triumph of Petrarque.’
[Chapter I.] This miniature is one of the most interesting and best preserved. Death, grasping his scythe, stands over the body of a young woman lying dead on the triumphal chariot. It is, in fact, the Italian triumph, as we have it represented in so many works. In this case the miniature is in duplicate, as well as the painting. The G is at the bottom.
Chapter II. Miniature on a single page: the death of Laura. The young woman is lying on the bed of death. She is surrounded by her friends, with palms in their hands. Above, in the sky, is seen the form of the Virgin. It is a very pleasing composition, nearly filling the frame, and the effect is charming.
Chapter III. Petrarch and Laura are seated in the shade of tall trees, on the bank of a pond in which two swans are floating. The same two persons are seen farther back, twice repeated, and diminishing in size according to the distance. An architectural structure, decidedly Italian in type, closes the view at the back. The G is painted on a stone at the feet of Petrarch and Laura. Evidently Godefroy had studied several portraits of the two, and he copies them with some success in their various attitudes. The trees are done so skilfully that one might well believe that he could recognize the touch of a landscape artist, and a generally happy effect gives to this miniature all the value of a painting.
‘Here followeth the fifth triumph of Messire Francisque Petrarque, the which is the triumph of Time.’
The miniature occupies two pages and includes two subjects. In one, Time, represented by the signs of the zodiac, and by the allegorical figures of antiquity, marks his progress in the sky; mortals undergo his influence on the earth. The artist has signed his work at the right, at the foot of the picture, this time with his full name: ‘Godefroy.’ In the other miniature the triumph of Time is represented. He is passing in his chariot, drawn by four horses at a gallop, between the four Seasons. On the left, at the foot, we see a G and two lizards.
‘Here followeth the sixth and last triumph of Messire Francisque Petrarque, the which is the triumph of the Deity.’
This title is followed by a double miniature. In one, we see God the Father and Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit soaring above their heads, seated on the globe and presiding at the last day. Flames fall from the skies upon mankind, who are divided into the good and the bad; angels tranquilly lead the former, while devils brutally pursue the others. At the foot, on the right, is the G. On the other page, God the Father and God the Son (the Holy Spirit hovering over them as before) are seated in a triumphal chariot drawn by the ox, the lion, the eagle, and the angel, which are the symbols of the evangelists. They come forward, surrounded by all the dignitaries of the Church. Pagan Love, with bandaged eyes, lies dead on the ground near the chariot wheels; a long procession of saints, male and female, concealed below the waist by an elevation, are following the course of the chariot in the foreground. This arrangement made it possible for the artist to make his figures larger and to delineate their features with care. The G is at the foot of the miniature, on the ground.
All these miniatures, painted in grisaille, with blue skies and water, and with some few details in colour, are 86 millimetres high and 68 wide.
Comte Léon de Laborde.
3
In the catalogue of the library of M. Firmin Didot père, sold in 1811, is the following description of a magnificent manuscript:311—
‘The first three books of Diodorus Siculus, translated from Latin into French by Antoine Macault. Small folio, in blue morocco, with dentelles, lavé, réglé, bound with the arms of François I, whose cipher it bears on the back and on the cover.
‘A superb manuscript on vellum, presented to François I, containing 173 leaves, 30 lines to the page. It is illustrated with miniatures and with a large number of initial letters painted with the utmost care. The first miniature represents François I surrounded by the nobles and scholars of his court; it is 10 inches high and 6½ wide. This painting, of the most finished workmanship, has the additional merit of presenting the features of several great men of that time. All the pages on which chapters begin are set in fillets of gold and ultramarine. The initials are 19 lines high and 12 wide. More than fifty of these initials represent the principal subjects of their respective chapters. The third book is especially noteworthy, for, beginning with page 130, there is a series of small miniatures, admirable in execution and of the greatest exactness in respect of forms.
‘This manuscript has the advantage of being in a most excellent state of preservation.’
It was sold to M. Brunet, author of the ‘Manuel du Libraire,’ for 1476 francs (not including the usual expenses); he bought for William Beckford, Esq., of Fonthill Abbey in the County of Wilts, of which Salisbury is the shire town. The author of the ‘Repertorium Bibliographicum,’ printed at London in 1819, informs us that Macault’s manuscript was at that time in the library of that distinguished collector, which is described on pages 203 to 230 of the ‘Repertorium.’312
The description of the manuscript is as follows:—
DIODORE.—LES TROIS PREMIERS LIVRES DE DIODORE SICILIEN, HISTORIOGRAPHE GREC DES ANTIQUITEZ DEGIPTE, ETHIOPIE ET AUTRES PAYS DASIE ET DAFFRIQUE. TRANSLATEZ DE LATIN EN FRANCOYS PAR MAISTRE ANTHOINE MACAULT, NOTAIRE, SECRETAIRE ET VALET DE CHAMBRE ORDINAIRE DU ROY.
‘Folio, ms. on vellum, in the original binding; the sides strewn with fleurs-de-lis and the initial letter F. On one side, in a square compartment, in gold letters: DIODORE SICILIEN. On the opposite side: AV ROY FRANCOYS PREMIER.
‘This fine manuscript, formerly in the possession of Francis the First, appears to have been executed by his express command. Prefixed to the history is a painting of the King seated under a canopy powdered with fleurs-de-lis, surrounded by his courtiers: his three sons, the Dauphin Francis, Henry, afterwards Henry II, and Charles, Duke of Orleans, dressed in rich habits, appear in the foreground. The King seems to direct his attention to a person reading, dressed as an ecclesiastic, probably the translator of the History. A beautiful greyhound on the floor, and a marmoset, sitting on the table, near the King’s left hand, are prominent figures in the groupe [sic]. In addition to this exquisite illumination, the volume is enriched with numerous large initial letters, painted with peculiar delicacy, representing occurrences described in the book, manners of various nations, and portraits of their early emperors and kings.’313
This description is accompanied by an engraving on copper of the figure of François I, after the Macault MS. The King is depicted full face, seated before a table on which, near his left hand, is a monkey. The background is a tapestry covered with fleurs-de-lis. This engraving is dated July 1, 1817, and is the work of M. Behnes. It differs from the engraving on wood found in Macault’s printed volume, not only in that it does not include the various persons of the original drawing, but also in the details of the King’s costume. I have every reason to believe that the wood engraving is a faithful reproduction of the original, just as the book itself is a reproduction of the manuscript, except for the other drawings, which were omitted, from economical motives, no doubt.
Macault’s volume is a quarto, consisting of 8 leaves of preface, 154 of text (signatures A to Q), and 8 of index. The author’s preface begins with an S from which depends a shield (probably Macault’s), bearing two fasces accompanied by nine bezants arranged in threes, and having for a motto the Greek word ΜΗΚΕΤΙ (not at all). The letter is repeated on folio 148. The first page has a border in the shape of a portico, like those in the opuscula published by Tory in 1531 and described on pp. 202-203. At the foot is the date 1535. On the verso we find the final border of ‘Champ fleury,’ within which are drawn, in the vellum copy preserved at the Bibliothèque Nationale, the royal arms of England, with the motto DIEV EST [sic] MON DROICT, below.314
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PAULI JOVII NOVOCOMENSIS VITÆ DUODECIM VICECOMITUM MEDIOLANI PRINCIPUM.
Folio manuscript of 137 leaves. Bibliothèque Nationale.
This manuscript is enriched with ten portraits of dukes of Milan, painted from originals, of each of which Paulus Jovius gives the abiding-place.
1. Otho archiepiscopus.
2. Matthæus magnus.
3. Galeacius [Galeazzo] primus.
4. Actius.
5. Luchinus.
6. Joannes archiepiscopus.
7. Galeacius secundus.
8. Barnabas.
9. Jo. Galeacius [Gian Galeazzo] primus.
10. Philippus.
The dedicatory epistle of this book, which was at first intended to be addressed to François’s third son, Charles de Valois, as the author informs us, was addressed to the Dauphin, Henri, afterwards Henri II, who succeeded to the rights of his elder brother, deceased in 1536, and of his younger brother, who died in 1545. It is dated at Rome, the 4th of the Kalends of April (March 29), 1547.
It is not certain that Tory did any work on this manuscript, but I mention it because of the engravings of the portraits, which appeared in the edition published in 1549.315
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RECUEIL DES ROIS DE FRANCE, LEURS COURONNE ET MAISON, etc., by Jean du Tillet, register in chief of the Parliament of Paris.
Large folio manuscript on vellum; Bibliothèque Nationale. It is the original manuscript given to Charles IX, to whom it is dedicated. It is bound in red morocco, with that prince’s arms.316
This manuscript is embellished with a large number of miniatures and with thirty full-length portraits of kings of France, very carefully executed, which remind one of the portraits accompanying the manuscript of the ‘Commentaires de César.’ We also find there the escutcheons of the principal officers of the crown.
Here is the list of the kings represented: each portrait occupies a full page.
1. Clovis.
2. Clotaire I.
3. Sigebert.
4. Chilpéric and Frédégonde.
5. Clotaire III.
6. Charlemagne.
7. Louis le Débonnaire.
8. Charles le Chauve.
9. Charles le Simple.
10. Raoul.
11. Louis d’Outre Mer.
12. Lothaire.
13. Philippe I.
14. Louis le Gros.
15. Louis le Jeune.
16. Philippe-Auguste.
17. Louis, père de Saint-Louis.
18. Saint-Louis.
19. Philippe le Bel.
20. Louis le Hutin.
21. Philippe le Long.
22. Charles le Bel.
23. Philippe de Valois.
24. Jean.
25. Charles V.
26. Charles VI.
27. Louis XI.
28. Charles VIII.
29. Louis XII.
30. François I.
As we see, the book was originally intended to stop with François I; but as circumstances prevented the author from printing it thus, du Tillet included the reigns of Henri II, François II, and Charles IX, who succeeded one another at brief intervals. The work was still unpublished when the author died, in 1570; it would seem, however, that he had long been preparing to print, since we find in the edition of 1580 engravings signed with the Lorraine cross.317
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In ‘Les Récréations historiques,’ by Dreux Duradier, on page 102 of volume one, we read:
‘In the manuscript of the late M. Lancelot, written, it is said, by the hand of G. Tory, with the date of 1546, is found this ballad in honour of the Virgin:—
‘“Balade de Lyon Jamet sur la Vierge:
Qui me crea je l’ai conçu,” etc.’
I have vainly sought this manuscript among all those of Lancelot owned by the Bibliothèque, of which there is a special catalogue; but I have been unable to find it.
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In order to omit nothing, I will also mention here another valuable manuscript of the Bibliothèque Nationale, on one of the miniatures of which is a G, followed by a small T or F, which may fairly be attributed to Geofroy Tory. It is a translation of Livy, in two large folio volumes, on vellum, acquired from the Bibliothèque de la Sorbonne, and enriched with magnificent engravings, attributed to Jean Fouquet, which, however, cannot be his, for the book has, on the first page, the arms of François de Rochechouart and Blanche d’Aumont, who were married about 1480 and died, both, in 1530. Evidently it was not in the early years of their marriage that the book was written; and, as it must have occupied several years, and, in fact, was never finished, there is nothing extraordinary in the idea that Tory may have executed some of the miniatures about 1520. Furthermore, in order to place the reader in a position to judge for himself, I will add that the cipher mentioned above is painted on the leg of the figures in the miniature on page 123 of volume one.318