In my days studying medieval literature in graduate school, I spent a lot of time in archives working with manuscripts. One phenomenon I studied in particular that is still relevant to today was medievalism, or the representation of the medieval period outside of the period itself. Because many of the texts I find most inspiring are medieval, I found it appropriate to discuss some of that interest here in this beautiful and niche literary community. The following is an archive writing I did on a particular rendition of The Canterbury Tales that I found beautiful in its needlessness and extravagance. I wrote this little blurb at a time when I was reading socialist theory from the Decadent period of literature, which is evident in the archive material as well as in my own writing. With the weather turning cold, I found myself wanting to go inward and remember writings of phases past. So, needless to say, I've changed a lot since what I wrote below.
The Kelmscott Press, founded by William Morris, produced in the year 1896 an edition of The Canterbury Tales[1] that was a clear attempt to restore the mastery of old printing, text, and simple but evocative art.[2] As can be seen from the “broadside illustrating two stages in the design of the Kelmscott Chaucer,” William Morris’ attention to detail carried into even his choice of fonts, as he researched 15th century font-types. His desire for such close emulation also explains his choice in the actual text, as The Canterbury Tales is quintessentially Medieval and had already long been canonized as such.
The highly decorated pages of the Kelmscott Chaucer quite successfully create a clearly medieval aesthetic, with grape vines and leaves weaving throughout and clearly religious imagery being used in the prints themselves, which are mostly done in clear and bold linework. In creating this aesthetic, however, Morris seems to have strayed slightly from what Medieval manuscripts truly looked like. Another copy of The Canterbury Tales, printed in 1598 in London, lacks the ornateness found throughout Morris’ version,[3] except in the pages telling of Chaucer’s progeny at the beginning of the text. The copy from 1598 is messy: the text lines are clearly hand-drawn; the cutting of the pages is not perfectly uniform; and the watermark appears on only one page, messily done, as opposed to the beautiful and rather large watermark that can be found on every page of the Kelmscott Chaucer. Differences in pagination between the two (folio pages in the 1598, modern pages in the Kelmscott) also speaks to the idea that Morris, in his attempt and desire to emulate old masterful ways of creating books, made some very thoughtful changes to the process. He retains none of the messiness of Medievalism.
Even in looking at an example of a book highly decorated from the Medieval period (a Book of Hours[4]), clear differences in aesthetics can be seen. The Book of Hours, the most commonly owned text in the Medieval era, is ornately covered with leafy drawings, golden embellishments, and inks of many colors. All is hand drawn in a way that makes clear the ameteur skill of the artist. There is no simplicity of line work, as in the Kelmscott Chaucer, but instead there can be seen a busyness of pattern that, at times, serves as distraction from the text. None of the pages are decorated equally; some are nearly entirely covered in artwork, while others are utterly bare. Because the Book of Hours was unfinished, it is impossible to know if this is on purpose, but it does provide an alarmingly different perspective on Medieval text artwork than does the neatness and evenness of the Kelmscott.
Thus, Morris has created, in his attempt at replication, an entirely new kind of Medieval aesthetic. On the topic of replication, Peter Haidu says that “being similar to something else is, to some extent, to be that thing, but it is also to not be that thing since it is only being similar,”[5] which is to say that Morris created something that is both purely Medieval but also purely not Medieval. It is Medieval within the imagination of the decadents, but only within that imagination. As it relates to socialism, to create something so ornate and to use the tools that have been made outdated all for the simple pleasure of creating it is highly anti-capitalist, as it “constitutes a further revelation of value”[6] on something that has no value under capitalism, being both rather unuseful and also utterly old. Capitalism values the new, and Morris rejected this in favor of something he loved.
To place the Kelmscott Chaucer within the greater scope of society and decadence at the time, we must consider what Suzanne O’Rourke Scanlon says, that “Morris used Medievalism in his art and social activism to express his dissatisfaction with the problems he perceived in Victorian society and his vision for reform.”[7] Morris believed that under capitalism, true beauty was impossible, but under socialism “life should be pleasant, generous, and beautiful.”[8]Thus, decadence requires socialism to function healthfully, as beauty cannot be enjoyed or even properly created under a society which values production above all else. Here is where the Kelmscott Chaucer becomes a truly iconic wonder: it is a glimpse into the possibilities of beauty under socialism, of what decadent objects can be created if we are free from capitalism. It allows for its reader to experience the kind of self-fulfilling creation that can be attained if the chains of production are released. The Kelmscott Chaucer is a decadent relic made for the sake of making it, for the journey of creating something in a way no longer used, for the experience of having something that speaks to the past for only our enjoyment. The excess of grape leaves, the beautifully ornate watermark, even the creation of the font and paper give to us, even now, a hope for self fulfillment through creation not bogged down by production.
[1] Chaucer, G., In Ellis, F. S., Burne-Jones, E. C., Hooper, W. H., Morris, W., Wilcox, M., & Kelmscott Press,. (1896). The works of Geoffrey Chaucer, now newly imprinted. Hammersmith, Middlesex: Printed by me William Morris at the Kelmscott Press, Upper Mall, Hammersmith, in the County of Middlesex. [2] Morris, W., Chaucer, G., Kelmscott Press., Grabhorn Press., & Book Club of California. (1934). A William Morris broadside illustrating two stages in the design of the Kelmscott Chaucer. San Francisco: Grabhorn Press. [3] Chaucer, G., Bishop, G., In Speght, T., In Stow, J., In Thynne, W., & Lydgate, J. (1598). The workes of our antient and lerned English poet, Geffrey Chavcer, newly printed. Londini: Impensis Geor. Bishop. [4] [Incomplete illuminated manuscript]. (n.d.). [5] Haidu, P. (1977). Repetition: Modern Reflections on Medieval Aesthetics. MLN, 92(5). 878 [6] Haidu, P. (1977). Repetition: Modern Reflections on Medieval Aesthetics. MLN, 92(5). 880. [7] Scanlon, S. O. (2013). The Medievalism of William Morris. XXII, 153-167. Retrieved from https://history.sfsu.edu/sites/default/files/EPF/2015/2013_Suzanne O'Rourke Scanlon.pdf. 154. [8] Morris, W. (1887). How We Live and How We Might Live. Commonweal. 12.
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