Stop and Look – The Month of May by the Limbourg brothers
A Book of Hours was a common possession among the very well-to-do in the late Middle Ages. The “Hours” in question were those of the offices of the Church: a book such as this was a kind of devotional almanac giving the texts of the services, and sometimes, as in this case, informing the owner of the events, social and agricultural, of the different seasons, and the progress of the constellations with the signs of the Zodiac.
It was something the owner could carry around as an intimate personal possession and was precious not only for its spiritual value but often also for its physical beauty. Some of the most accomplished artists of the time lavished their talents on these books, and the Limbourg brothers count among the finest of all.
They came from Nijmegen in the Netherlands and trained as artists and draughtsmen in Paris. They were drawn into the entourage of Jean de France, Duc de Berri. They so became closely involved in the splendid culture of the Burgundian kingdom that dominated the Low Countries and Eastern France at the time when the High Renaissance was beginning to establish itself in Italy.
Paul, Jean and Herman de Limbourg were young artists who seem to have been born specifically to celebrate the flamboyant and yet humane civilisation of the Burgundian kings. Technically, they were masters of their chosen medium: opaque water-based pigment, strengthened with gum, on vellum (calf-skin); and masters too of the miniature scale: books of hours were by definition comfortably portable, for use in the intimate contexts of private life, and these young men knew how to translate their keen observation of the world around them, both natural and man-made, into ravishing images that are both decorative and informative.
The Limbourgs were adept at making the most of the potential of tempera for brilliant colour and crisp, sparkling detail. Their Très Riches Heures is an exceptionally large book of its kind. In it, they portray the life of Duke Jean’s court, its activities at different seasons of the year and the agricultural economy of the woods and fields that surrounded the splendid castles that he either owned or had connections with all over France.
On this page, we are shown the extremely glamorous procession, accompanied by musicians with trumpets, with which the Duke goes into the countryside outside Paris to celebrate the beginning of Summer. The ladies and gentlemen all have garlands of greenery arranged over their elaborate headgear. In the background rise the turrets of the Duke’s Paris residence, the Hotel de Nèsle.
As we look at this festive procession through the countryside, we in England probably can’t help being reminded of Chaucer’s description of a springtime pilgrimage through the newly-awakened landscape to pay devotions at the site of the martyrdom of St Thomas à Becket in Canterbury Cathedral. The almost-shocking difference is in the wonderfully varied cast of Chaucer’s characters, taken from all walks of life. The Limbourgs’ procession is very aristocratic indeed. But the ordinary people aren’t ignored in the Très Riches Heures. Several of its pages depict the life of the peasants and their neat husbandry in fields and orchards.
Chaucer’s description of the spring landscape in The Canterbury Tales is a month earlier than this, April not May, but it has many of the same features, including the signs of the Zodiac.
Each plate in the Très Riches Heures shows the signs of the Zodiac for the relevant month in an arch above the main scene. The symbols for the month of May are the bull, Taurus, and the twins, Gemini. In the centre of the arch, an unchanging feature of the design from month to month is the personification of the sun in a chariot drawn by four winged horses. His identity is elided with that of the Holy Church itself, presented almost as though he were the Pope, and indeed the Pope, the greatest bridge-builder between man and God (“Pontifex Maximus”), had a place similar to the sun in the Christian cosmos of late Medieval Europe.
Andrew Wilton was the first Curator of the Clore Gallery for the Turner Collection at Tate Britain and is the author of many works on the artist.