The Pirate Map used by the Visitor (before aging with tea, water, dirt, crumpling and folding). The Tropics of Newport are to the east; flying pigs, muddy banks and Larry the Ferryman are on the north bank. The swine whales live near the ‘O’s on the river. The visitor’s skiff has passed the Licking River and is between the ‘R’ and ‘I’.
My internet service was out for a while and I wasn’t able to respond to the comments to Chris’ reading of “A Visitor Comes to Covington” or to the backstory of the book. Thank you for the many very kind comments.
I wasn’t sure how the book would be received. In the letter sent with the book my suggestion was to put it on a high shelf in the library, push it well to the back and put something heavy on it. Alternatively, it could be buried in the basement. Fortunately, the Stick Chair Badge Approval & Distribution Committee (Chris and Megan) liked the book and I heard there was a bit of teary-eyedness when each had read the book. I didn’t intend to make anyone cry but have to confess I got a bit of moisture around my eyes when Chris read the book.
Below is a photo of my last cat, Bunky Beanie Bronzini. He was a big and solid 15-pounder capable of herding me towards the kitchen when he thought I might be headed in the wrong direction. If he had lived another few years he would gained another name or two. This was his “No, absolutely not,” expression.
From The American Anti-Slavery Almanac for 1840, Vol.I, No.5.
One of the arguments used by pro-slavery groups was the idea if enslaved people were granted their freedom they would not be able to take care of themselves. Abolitionists like to point out exactly who was doing the work in the states where slavery thrived. A portion of the counter argument is below.
After gaining his freedom Henry Boyd headed on foot to Cincinnati. He arrived in 1825 or 1826 ready to work. From a young age he had worked on a farm, sometime in his teens he was hired out to work at the Kanawha saltworks and he had learned carpentry (likely from an apprenticeship). He could also read and write, which was allowed under Kentucky laws.
The Initial Years Navigating a Hostile City
In a city growing as rapidly as Cincinnati in the mid-1820s there was plenty of carpentry work available, unless you were a Black man. When Boyd arrived in the city the Black population was just under 700 (4.5 percent), compared to a total population of 15,540. He was refused work and white men would not work beside him. Skilled or not, Boyd and other recently freed Black workers were left to seek lower-paying jobs. There was also direct competition with newly arrived immigrants from Europe.
Boyd eventually worked as a laborer along the riverfront. The “Proceedings of the Ohio Anti-Slavery Convention of April 1835” provide this detail:
By 1829 the Black population of the city was 2,258, approximately 9.4 percent of the total, an alarming number to much of the white residents. In June of that year the decision was made to “rigidly enforce” the requirement of a $500 surety bond, one of the Black Laws of 1807. Black residents were given 30 days to comply. Rigid enforcement was taken to mean violence would be used. Previous to this announcement Black leaders had been working to help residents establish their own communities outside of Cincinnati and others were negotiating land purchases in Canada. They asked for more time. By August the city was restive and some residents evacuated.
The attacks began on August 15 and continued until the 22nd. Mobs of white, mostly working-class men, moved through the Fourth Ward attacking Black residents and burning houses and businesses. The police did not intervene and city officials and business leaders stayed quiet. The newspapers of Cincinnati did not publish accounts of the riots, but the newspapers outside the city did. The number of people killed, white or Black is unknown.
Between 1,100 and 1,500 Black residents left Cincinnati. The city lost a large labor pool, entrepreneurs, businesses and taxes. Between the years 1830-1860 the Black population was never more than 4.8 percent of the total population.
Henry Boyd stayed in Cincinnati. By 1829 he was likely married to Keziah and was supporting her and Sarah Jane, his stepdaughter. He had work and was saving to buy the freedom of his sister and brother. At age 27 he probably had a very good idea of the obstacles he would continue to encounter in Cincinnati.
A view of Cincinnati in 1830, from the Cincinnati & Hamilton County Public Library.
A variety of documents from the 1830s provide some good detail on Boyd activies during his first full decade in Cincinnati. It was a decade of intense labor and consequent reward for Henry Boyd.
Boyd is not listed in the 1829 city directory (the earliest available) and a directory is not available for 1830. His first listing is in 1831.
He is living and working from New Street, between Sycamore and Broadway (“do” is an abbreviation for ditto). His city directory listings remain the same until 1839.
The Cholera Epidemic
In the summer of 1832 newspapers reported the outbreak of cholera in New York and other cities. With its location on the Ohio River, it was not of matter of if, but when, cholera would reach Cincinnati. The epidemic began in the city in October.
Medical authorities of the time were correct that cholera was not transmitted from person to person, instead it was thought to be airborne. The air in the poorest sections of the city, the miasma, was suspected to be a cause. It was true the communities most affected by cholera outbreaks were those in lower-lying and crowded areas populated by they poor, but sanitation was lacking throughout the city. One thing the epidemic revealed in Cincinnati and other prosperous cities was a misery that had mostly been hidden.
Henry Boyd may not have been the only Cincinnati resident that thought cholera was spread through water, but he took the extraordinary step of communicate his idea to the editor of one of the city’s newspapers. From the Liberty Hall and Cincinnati Gazette of October, 1832:
We don’t know how many people followed this simple life-saving solution. His solution was certainly undercut by how it was introduced. It would be another 22 years before it was definitively proven that cholera was contracted in contaminated water.
George Porter and the Bedstead Fastener Patent
The patent for his bedstead fastener was likely submitted sometime in 1831 or 1832 and was granted on December 30, 1833. The listing can be found in the List of Patents for Inventions and Designs Issued by the United States from 1790 – 1847.
The patent is No. 7911X and a copy of the patent application with drawings is unavailable. A fire in December 1836 destroyed almost all of the records at the U.S. Patent Office. A request was made to all patentees to send patent documents to the Patent Office for copying. It doesn’t seem George Porter or Henry Boyd complied with this request.
Close up of the fastener from the Boyd bedstead in the collection of the Smithsonian.
George Porter was a Massachusetts cabinetmaker, active from 1817-1849. He arrived in Cincinnati around 1823 and by 1826 was operating a his own furniture shop at the “Sign of the Golden Eagle” at the corner of Main and Seventh Streets. Porter’s shop was just a hop, skip and jump from Boyd’s house on New Street.
Why isn’t the patent under Henry Boyd’s name? Although Henry Boyd was legally able to apply for a patent, as could any Black inventor, enslaved or free, he may not have known this. He may have been denied help from a patent lawyer and/or been given false information about the process. Porter, a trained cabinetmaker with an established business, seems to be the logical person to ask for help. It is apparent they knew each other and Porter may have sent work Boyd’s way. The two may also have had a financial agreement.
An English Abolitionist Visits
E.S. Abdy visited the United States between April 1833 and October 1834. He met with several men from Lane Seminary (later, the abolitionist Lane Rebels) and was taken to visit Henry Boyd at his home in New Street. From Abdy’s Journal of a Residence and Tour in the United States of North America from April 1833 to October 1834, Vol. 2 we have this description:
This passage verifies when Henry Boyd purchased is own freedom, “about eight years before” and that he had also freed his sister and brother. It is also the first description we have that verifies Boyd is running his own shop and is employing both white and Black men.
Henry Boyd, House Builder
Tax assesment records for 1835-1838 show Henry Boyd paying taxes in an area named Burrows Smith. Was this his home location or where he had a separate shop? Fortunately, the Cincinnati History Library and Archives sent me a copy of a law suit filed by Henry Boyd and the Burrows Smith mystery was solved.
Boyd built a frame house for James Carr on the north side of New Street in the subdivision (or plats) of Burrows Smith. The house was finished on May 14, 1836, and other than receiving $6.34 from Carr, Boyd was owed $334.76. Boyd filed the suit for payment on May 22, 1836 and a full account of materials, labor and costs are listed.
The wood frame house was built on the east half of plat 11. The front footage of the lot was 15 feet and the depth 90 feet. The house had two stories with upper and lower porches. The exterior had weatherboarding applied and the roof had wood shingles. The house builders among you can revel in the rest of the details.
The suit against James Carr verified the kind of work done by Henry Boyd prior to opening his bedstead factory and that he was working from a shop at his home on New Street and not at a separate location. The detailed list of the cost of materials and labor demonstrate he had the necessary accounting skills for a self-employed mechanic.
Towards the end of my research on Henry Boyd I found an article that provided more background on how he became a house builder.
In 1877, the Cincinnati Commercial newspaper published a biography of the now-retired Boyd.
House Builder No More
In the city directory for 1839-1840 Henry Boyd had two listings.
In the main section was his residence:
The publisher of this directory included a Colored Section and here is Boyd’s second listing:
Henry Boyd had opened his bedstead factory at the corner of Broadway and Eighth.
This map from the Library of Congress is dated 1838. The color dots show the location of George Porter’s shop at the corner of Main and Seventh (green dot), Henry Boyd’s home on New Street between Sycamore and Broadway (blue dot) and the bedstead factory at the corner of Broadway and Eighth (red dot). Plat 11 on New Street is where Boyd built the house listed in the 1836 suit. You can also see where Henry lived and worked in relation to the Public Landing on the Ohio River. Click on the map for a closer look.
Within a span of 13 to 14 years Henry Boyd gained his freedom, found steady work and a home, married, freed his sister and brother from slavery, patented a bedstead fastener and opened his bedstead factory.
It is safe to say Henry Boyd could take care of himself.
Early visitors to the new western cities of America were willing to travel by coach, wagon,horseback, boats and on foot to see and report on the westward growth of their new and independent country. They kept detailed diaries and turned their experiences into published travelogues. A minister would include the social aspects of the settlements, whereas an engineer would take note of the topography, soil conditions and geology. Publishers of almanacs and directories recorded annual growth of population, commerce and manufacturing.
Pittsburgh was, as an early traveler from Boston noted, the “key to the Western Territory.” This was especially true for travelers from New England, New York and the Mid-Atlantic states, for Pittsburgh was the stopping point to resupply and get repairs before continuing their overland westward journeys. Once steamboat travel was available, Pittsburgh was the embarkation point to begin a trip on the Ohio River and onward to the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers.
David Thomas (1776-1859) was a Quaker from Cayuga County in western New York. Traveling by horseback, he departed his home in the summer of 1816 on a trip that would ultimately take him to western parts of the Indiana Territory. He kept a diary and made note of the geology, agriculture, wildlfe, commerce and industry he observed during his travels. His notes and observations were published in 1819. He arrived in Pittsburgh around June 7, 1816, and described it as such:
Wraught Nails to Cut Nails
The new towns and cities of the “Western Country” needed a huge supply of well-made nails and they needed them fast. By 1807 there were four nail factories, all worked by hand. In 1811 Charles Cowen opened a slitting and rolling mill that included the manufacturing of nails. By 1814, the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory was owned by William Stackpole and Ruggles Whiting, both originally from the Boston area. Their factory was steam powered and they installed Jacob Perkins’ patented cut nail machines. Thomas visited the Stackpole & Whiting rolling mill and nail manufactory and observed the manufacture of cut nails.
Jacob Perkins invented the nail machine in 1790 and patented it in 1795. His invention was reportedly able to cut 500 nails per minute.
An advertisement in a Lexington, Kentucky, newspaper, circa 1815, for goods from the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory.
The Stackpole & Whiting mill was located at the corner of Penn Street and Cecil Avenue. In 1818 they bought steamboats at foreclosure and began to build their own boats. They went into bankruptcy in 1819 and relocated their boatbuilding business to Louisville, Kentucky. The rolling mill was later taken over by Richard Bowen.
The Mechanic’s Retreat
In 1815 an outlet tract (land cleared for farming) across the river in Allegheny Town was subdivided and developed as a residential area for workers employed by some of the early industries located a short distance away along the banks of the Ohio River. The area was bounded by Pasture Lane (now Brighton Road) and the North Commons (now North Avenue). The houses were modest in an otherwise undeveloped rural setting. Mechanics Retreat Park, at the corner of Buena Vista and Jacksonia streets, is a small remnant of the original development.
Also in 1815, Mr. James Jelly opened a three-story steam-powered factory for the carding, spinning and weaving of cotton. The next year an advertisement for a different kind of Mechanic’s Retreat ran in a local newspaper.
The Quality of Local Goods
Thaddeus M. Harris, a Unitarian minister from Boston, along with several companions, left his home in the spring of 1803 to visit the territory northwest of the Allegheny Mountains. His party arrived in Pittsburgh on April 15. After experiencing an eight-day journey over the mountains he remarked about the expense of moving goods overland from Philadelphia and Baltimore. The expense of transporting heavy goods, such as furniture, might cost more than that of the furniture.
As the business class gained wealth they sought to furnish their homes with high-style furniture as was made in Philadelphia and Baltimore. Skilled craftsmen from both cities, as well as those from other cities and towns on the Atlantic Seaboard, moved to the new western cities seeking the same opportunities as other new settlers. In 1803 Harris noted the quality and woods used to make furniture.
Fourteen years later, Cramer’s Magazine Almanac of 1817 provides more detail about the types of furniture being made. One indication of the growing wealth of some customers, and cabinet makers, was the use of mahogany for furniture. Mahogany was transported by steamboat from New Orleans, a river distance of almost 2,000 miles.
The Mechanics
Before city directories were published there were other publications touting the growth of the western cities. Matthew Carey’s American Museum, or Universal Magazine provides this accounting of the mechanics working in Pittsburgh in 1792:
Zadoc Cramer, publisher of an annual almanac, reported $33,900 worth of goods were made by the carpenters and furniture makers of Pittsburgh in 1803.
By 1810 Pittsburgh was established as a manufacturing center and the population was approximately 4740. The population grew to 8,000 in 1816 and to 9,000 in 1819 (the population in outlying areas was not always included). Pittsburgh was incorporated as a borough in 1816 and the following year a survey of the manufacturies operating in the city was commissioned. The account was published in the city directory fro 1819 (only woodworking and related trades are shown below:
Three cabinet makers had advertisements in the 1819 city directory. Joseph Barclays’s ad included a pointing finger (manicule) causing some irregular, although eye-catching, spacing. In the directory William Crawford’s ad was turned 90° sideways, a technique to allow more text and also to attract interest. Liggett’s ad includes an illustration and was likely the most expensive. The illustration has a roomful of furniture at the top, including a disassembled bedstead with headboard, posts and rails. Liggett was also offering mahogany furniture.
It can be difficult to determine how a 19th-century craftsman and his business fared. City directories were not published each year (especially in the earliest years of settlement) and some directories only listed householders. We do know not every person in a town was counted or listed.
A craftsman might move to an outlying area and have a thriving business and not be documented in the Pittsburgh directory. It also wasn’t uncommon for a craftsmen to move elsewhere for a better opportunities, to change to a different type of employment and there’s also the ever-present disease and death that ended a career. Efforts weren’t usually made to collect directories and other ephemera until decades later when copies might already be scarce.
Here’s what a quick search revealed about the cabinet makers in the three advertisements:
John Barclay appeared in the 1815 and 1819 directories only. William Crawford was in the 1819 and 1826 directories only.
The Liggett family had the longest presence in the city. John Liggett was probably the father and James was his brother or son, both were cabinet makers. A third Ligget was Thomas, likely John’s son (initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter) had the longest series of listings. All three started at the same address, south side of Second Street between Wood and Market streets.
James, the advertiser, was in the 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. The 1819 listing shows him just a short distance from the Second Street address. John Liggett was in the 1812, 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. Thomas, initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter, was in the 1812-1826 directories with his last listing in the 1837 directory. He was not in the next directory from 1841, but may have worked beyond 1837, giving him at least a 25-year run.
William Scott had a long career as a plane maker, possibly starting before 1807 and at least until 1839. Charles W. Pine, Jr. wrote an article about early Pittsburgh plane makers and you can find that article here.
The Swetman & Hughes ad ran in the Pittsburgh Gazette. I used Pine’s article to get a lead on the short-lived partnership of Swetman & Hughes. The partnership of James Swetman and William P. Hughes employed three other plane makers: Thomas Clark, Samuel Richmond and Benjamin King. None of the five plane makers show up in the 1815 city directory and only Thomas Clark was found in the 1826 directory for Pittsburgh. Nothing more showed up for Samuel Richmond, but there are some details available for Swetman, Hughes and King.
James Swetman was born in England, arrived in America in 1809 and worked in Baltimore with William Vance until 1816. The Pittsburgh parnership of Swetman and William P. Hughes lasted about two years, until 1820. Swetman then made his way to Montreal and is believed to be the first plane maker in Canada. The Tools and Trades Society has an article about four Bath minor plane makers and includes a short history of James Swetman (you can read the article here).
William P. Hughes was originally from Maryland and likely met Swetman while they were both in Baltimore. After the partnership was dissolved, Hughes moved to Cincinnati. He appears in the 1829 and 1831 city directories, each time at a different address. In subsequent listings, if it is the same person, he had moved on to other occupations.
Benjamin King, also originally from Maryland,was much more successful in Cincinnati. He is listed as a plane maker in the city directories from 1825 to 1844. Beginning in the 1831 directory and onward, he was listed at the same address, on Abigail Street, between Broadway and Sycamore, indicating he found a level of stability in Cincinnati.
Economic Distress and the Formation of a Cooperative
In 1815, after two years of war with America, the warehouses of British manufacturers were bursting. There was a rush to sell these goods, even at a loss, and ship them to America. American markets, with little or no protective tariffs, were flooded with British-made products. One group of manufacturers hit hard were the cotton mills. James Jelly’s cotton mill (across from the advertised Mechanics Treat tavern) began operation in 1815. Soon, his mill, along with more established mills, were struggling to compete with imported textiles. Overall, despite the influx of imported goods, Pittsburgh continued to grow, although moderately, until the Panic of 1819.
In this front-page notice from the February 1819 edition of the Pittsburgh Weekly Gazette a group of craftsmen endorsed sandpaper made by Thomas Bryan. They emphasized it was equal to any imported sandpaper. This was an important means of offering support to a fellow craftsmen, and it telegraphed to the public that good-quality materials were being used in local workshops.
The numbers employed by the city’s manufacturers dropped from 1,960 in 1815 to 672 at the end of 1819. The population fell from about 9,000 in 1819 to 7,248 in 1820.
A farmer wrote to Cramer’s Magazine Almanac in a letter dated July 19, 1819. It was published in the 1820 edition of the almanac:
The farmer had read about an Agricultural Society that might serve as a remedy: “The plan designs to make the society a means of promoting domestic manufacturers as well as to patronise a better system of agriculture.”
The idea of forming a cooperative for the goods made by individual craftsmen and manufactories was also percolating. In April of 1819 the Pittsburgh Manufactory Association was formed. Samual Jones reported on the Association in the 1823 city directory:
The association opened a large brick warehouse on Wood Street between Front and Second streets. In an article about the beginnings of cooperatives in the Pittsburgh area, John Curl detailed the products sold and the the early success of the association:
Samuel Jones (in the 1823 directory) had a few more things to say about buying local:
First Impressions Are Important
David Thomas, the visitor from 1816, made note of two characteristics of the people of Pittsburgh.
First, the vile language:
And, several paragraphs later:
I lived and worked in Pittsburgh for a few years and can attest to the kindness and generous nature of the citizens of the Burgh. As for vile language, I heard none unless a few Ranger fans had the temerity to come to town for a match up with the Pens.
— Suzanne Ellison
A detailed map of Pittsburgh from 1830, courtesy of the University of Pittsburgh Library System can be found here.
Misericord from Sint-Petruskerk, Oirschot, Netherlands. Photo from the Elaine C. Block Database of Misericords held by Princeton University.
While sorting through a file of misericords (originally amassed in 2016 for a three-part series on the woodworkers found in misericords), I rediscoverd this photo and decided to find out more about it.
The Message in the Misericord
Part of the study of misericords involves determining which parable, proverb or fable is depicted. With the mouse on the table we know this is a cat and not a fox, dog or bear. Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s “Nederlandse Spreekwoorden” (Netherlandish Proverbs) painted in 1559 is once source used to match a misericord to a proverb. The only proverb in the painting involving a cat is this one:
To “bell a cat” (even if one is armed to the teeth) is interpreted as carrying out a dangerous plan, or a plan doomed to failure. There is also the proverb “while the cat is away, the mice will play” or the alternative “when the cat is at home the mice are afraid.” None of these options apply to this misericord. One writer thought perhaps the cat was reading a Bible which would be an example of “the world turned around” with an animal performing human activities. The reading of this misericord may be to show the stark contrast between a well-fed cat studying in a comfortable setting compared to its normal “job” of being a mouser. This would be a reminder to a cleric or monk that the effort to study should be taken seriously, whereas a cat has no choice but to work continuously for its next meal. Not all scenes can be deciphered to have a particular meaning and this misericord may just show the typical cat trait of curiosity and their annoying habit of taking over their owner’s chair.
The History of This Misericord
The misericord was carved in oak by Jan Borchmans between 1508-1511. He worked in churches in Oirschot, Netherlands, and in Averbode and Aarschot, both in Belgium. The photograph was taken in 1941 by Martien Coppens. In 1943 Hans Sibbelee also photographed the church in Oirschot as part of a war-time effort to document important monuments and works of art. We are fortunate to have this photographic record. On October 2, 1944, Sint-Petruskerk was shelled during the Battle of the Scheldt, the World War II campaign to free Belgium and the Netherlands. The shelling caused a fire that destroyed all the choir carvings and misericords. Twenty-two days later and after tremendous losses, Oirschot was liberated on October 24, 1944.
Although the story of this misericord is poignant, we have a photograph that allows us to appreciate Jan Borchmans’ craftmanship and perhaps his sense of humor. He very kindly provided a footstool to accommodate this well-fed cat’s very large hind feet.
I don’t know about you, but this misericord has three elements that remind me of a workshop on Willard Street in Covington, Kentucky, where chairs are made, books are edited and cats roam free.
–Suzanne Ellison
P.S. If you would like to check out my 2016 series on misericords featuring woodworkers you can read about them here (the woodworkers), here (the carvers) and here (the workbenches). The Carvers post includes these misericord carvers:
Church of Notre-Dame des Grands-Andelys, France, dated 1413.
Christopher Schwarz also wrote something about workbenches and misericords and you can read about it here. Altogether that should take care of your weekend activities.
Michael Rimmer’s book about the angel roofs in East Anglia led me to take a closer look at the many carved wood angels to found in houses of worship. I narrowed a very large field of heavenly hosts to three that were made between 1450 and 1540: one plump, one commanding and one broken. All are small carvings made by highly-skilled craftsmen whose names we will never know. (Note: no stone angels. Thank you very much, Dr. Who.)
The Plump Messengers in a National Treasure
In the Marwood Church of St. Michael in Devon, England there is a 16th-century rood screen. The screen is a riot of carved foliage and fantastic figures of demons and spirits. The construction follows the classic form of canapy, vaulting, supporting columns, carved lower section (dado) and elaborate footings. The screen is dated 1535-1540 and was given to the church by Reverend Sir John Beauple. In the mid-19th century the screen was destroyed by the church’s vicar and only one portion was saved.
The rood screen. Devon Historic Churches Trust.
Just where the ribs of each vault descend and gather to meet the capital of the column there stands a small plump angel.
Unlike the other carved figures on the screen, the four angels, each holding a tablet, appear to be stoic and almost static. They seem to be an anomaly, but they are not. They are right where they should be between the vertical supporting column and arched vault. Just as arches in church buildings draw our eye upwards, so too, do the vaults in a rood screen. The angels help direct our eyes and thoughts heaven-ward.
The wood carvers did not neglect these plump little angels. They gave them fabulous and flowing hair.
An Archangel Appears
Saluzzo Altarpiece, Brussels City Museum. Photos copyright Y. Peeters and A. Dohet.
The Saluzzo Altarpiece is dated 1500-1510 and was possibly made in the Borman workshop in Brussels (the workshop origin is disputed). The carved side shows the life of Mary, the reverse is painted and depicts the life of Joseph. The painting was done by Valentine van Orley. The altarpiece was made for the Pensa di Mondovi family in Saluzzo Italy. The altarpiece returned to Brussels late in the 19th century.
In the mid-15th century, tableaux within altarpieces were often carved from one block of walnut. By the end of the century construction of altarpieces became more complex and the Saluzzo altarpiece is a prime example. Each scene usually has several figures, they gesture and the faces are animated. The backgrounds are complex with furniture, drapery and architectural elements. Textures are added to add dimension and richness. Figures were carved individually from quarter-sawn oak and made to exact measurements in order to fit together in their respective scenes. When new, the checkered floors between the figures would appear to be seamless. Now, after 500 years, we can see gaps between the figures.
The following is a description of how the figures were made. It is from “Late Medieval German Sculpture: Materials and Techniques” by Julien Chapuis, Department of Medieval Art and The Cloisters, Metropolitan Museum of Art.
“A standing figure was typically cut from a halved section of a tree trunk, clamped horizontally in an adjustable workbench that allowed the block to be rotated. Working from this angle, the sculptor was able to envision the figure in strong foreshortening, much as the viewer would when the finished work was installed above eye level; thus the sculptor could compensate for visual distortions by adjusting proportions and modeling. After marking the contours of the figure on the block with calipers and compasses, he roughed out the form with a variety of tools: two types of axes, curved and straight adzes used in an overhand chopping motion, broad chisels, and mallets. The deeper recesses were created with augers and hand-cranked borers. Various chisels and gouges were used for the elaboration of forms, working from the highest point to the deepest. Certain parts of a figure, such as hands, attributes, and protruding folds of drapery, were carved separately and attached to the figure with dowels. The backs of figures were normally hollowed out to prevent the wood from cracking as it aged. The carvings were meticulously finished with knives and scrapers, exploiting the contrast between broad, smooth areas and incisive details. Last, decorative patterns were either appliquéd or cut or pressed into the surface with punches. Before a figure left the sculptor’s workshop, the eyes and lips were often tinted.”
The Bishop, originally from an altarpiece, now in the collection of the Museum of Cultural History, University of Oslo, Norway.
The photo on the left is an example of how dowels were used to attach hands. On the right is the hollowed-out back of the figure. The drapery piece on the left may have been separately carved and attached, or may just be cracked.
Guild laws in Brussels regulated how each component of the altarpiece was to be marked to ensure both quality and place of origin. The hutch maker (a medieval term for a cabinetmaker that crafted altarpieces among other things) marked the altarpiece case and other elements with a compass and plane. Carved figures were marked with a mallet. The polychromy was punched with “BREUSEL” in the gilding. All of these marks have been found on the Saluzzo altarpiece during restorations and cleanings.
Diagram of markings from “Support and Polychromy of Altarpieces from Brussels, Mechlin and Antwerp” by Myriam Serck-Dewaide. The two lower marks are probably personal marks of craftsmen.
Thanks to a Getty Institute publication, “The Conservation of Medieval Polychrome Wood Sculpture” by Michele D. Marincola and Lucretia Kargère, we have photographs of the maker marks from two altarpieces made in Brussels.
Top: the hutch makers’s compass and plane from the Saluzzo Altarpiece. Bottom: the mallet mark of the sculptor of a figure from a different altarpiece. Copyright the J. Paul Getty Trust.
The Annunciation is one of the most repeated themes in religious art and the Saluzzo altarpiece has an outstanding depiction. I think of it as the “action panel.”
The carver of the Archangel Gabriel had the task of capturing both the moment and movement as the angel arrives in Mary’s chamber. Gabriel’s wings are still aloft, his mantle and gown swirl around him and his hair flows back from his face. He begins to speak his message as represented by the ribbon he holds. Mary, kneeling at her prie-dieu, turns to face Gabriel.
Layers of white ground (chalk and animal glue) are applied to the wood sculpures prior to the application of polychrome and gilding. Gabriel was given finely arched brows, his eye lids painted to give them depth and his cheeks have a delicate blush. His mantle is enriched with brocade pressed into the gilding. Gabriel’s beauty and the power of his arrival dominate this panel of the altarpiece. His presence emphasizes the immense importance of the message he carried to Mary.
The Lone Gitternist
Angels were often shown playing musical instruments, either alone or in groups. Unfortunately, as with choir stalls, misericords, rood screens and other church fittings, the groups were often broken up.
French, circa 1450-1500, Metropolitan Museum of New York.
This angel plays a gittern, a forerunner of the guitar. The face is captivating with rounded cheeks, a faraway look and a crown of wild curls.
Feathered, but clipped wings.
He has the posture of a musician, focused on his performance. Sadly, the other musicians are missing, but not due to creative differences causing a rift between members. Sculptures with multiple figures, as this probably was, were sawed apart and sold to collectors.
The side views.
This angel has such a strong presence that it is surprisingly just how small it is. The dimensions are only 16-1/8 x 15-13/16 x 3-3/8 inches (41 x 40.1 x 8.5 cm).
Alone, forever separated from his group, he can play power solos to his heart’s content.
Rock on, angel.
–Suzanne Ellison
In the gallery below are a few more photos of the rood screen including the canopy and vaults; photos of the Saluzzo Altarpiece closed, the painted side (with the Joseph Cycle) and a screen shot of a video when the altarpiece was being dusted – it shows the immense size of the altarpiece.
