…Even the Church was in trouble: it was rumored that not one soul had entered paradise since the Great Schism began. Outbreaks of the plague were common, taxes were high, and political stability unknown. In such a world, a beautiful Book of Hours provided welcome escape, at least for the few who could afford one.
If art can be said to reveal the spirit of an age, then the decorated pages of the “Belles Heures” of the Duc de Berry are proof only that the fifteenth-century in France was a period of extraordinary contrasts. Certainly the sparkling miniatures of the saints and angels seem to have little to do with the mundane horrors that people faced. By all accounts, the dawn of the fifteenth-century was a time of chronic war, injustice, misery, and pestilence.
The Belles Heures is the first of two Books of Hours with miniatures by the Limbourg brothers, artists in the service of the Duc de Berry. Rich in marvelous and often bloody detail, the lives of the saints made a Bok of Hours enjoyable as a storybook as well as a spiritual guide. Since there was no prescribed iconography for a Book of Hours, the artists who illustrated them were free, within the confines of the patron’s wishes, to introduce new subjects and designs. The person commissioning these works knew the result would be a truly original piece of art.
Not all the miniatures of the Belles Heures are religious in nature. Scenes from the secular life- threshing of wheat, trampling of grapes, slaughtering of a pig- mark the seasons on the pages of a calendar. The first of the two portraits of the duke depicts him in a splendid blue robe and kneeling at prayer in his private oratory. A grand and vigorous seignior, he appears to be in his late thirties or early forties. The Limbourg brothers must have known the value of flattery, for the duke was about sixty-five at the time. Since the portrait faces one of Jeanne de Boulogne, Berry’s second wife, then in her twenties, youthful appearance was important.
In 1466 another scourge of the age- epidemic disease- apparently took the lives of all three of the Limbourg brothers. Within six months, their patron was himself dead at the age of seventy-five. His vast collection was dispersed, of which not much is known except in the nineteenth-century it passed into the hands of Baron Edmund de Rothschild and later to The Cloisters in New York.
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