This is the second post for A Year in the Library. The plan is to share with you images of books and objects (accompanied by commentary) from my library and collections based on a theme. Some of these themes will be esoteric, others pedestrian, but I hope you’ll enjoy them all.
Initially I had planned for this post to cover some pulpy European ephemera but given the current state of world affairs (i.e., the COVID-19 virus if you’re reading this in the distant future), I decided to review something more apropos. Do not despair, Euro-Horror will eventually receive its due in a later post. And with that, I present for you the Danse Macabre (and related themes).
The Momento Mori (remember that you die) tradition goes back thousands of years (if not further). The moralizing premise is that it’s important for us to remember that we all die, and thus we should live our lives accordingly while we can (even more so if you happen to believe in an afterlife where you might be held accountable for your time on earth). In visual representation, Momento Mori themes usually include people contemplating skulls or skeletons and hourglasses to symbolize mortality and the quickness with which time passes.
During the early part of the 15th century, likely in France, an iconographic variation on this theme emerged. The Danse Macabre (a.k.a. Dance of Death) took a more individualized approach to the Momento Mori theme. Here corpses or skeletons are depicted dancing with men and women from various stations in life. Emperors and paupers, none are exempt from their turn. Images of the Danse Macabre depict corpses dancing together in a group or paired with individuals and are typically created in series that cover a broad range of occupations.
Some antiquarian images of the Danse Macabre...
A Danse Macabre (1483).
Woodcut on paper leaf from the Nuremburg Chronicle, Latin Edition. About 32 x 45 cm.
The Nuremberg Chronicle is a Christian illustrated history of the world from biblical creation to the Last Judgment. This woodcut by Michael Wolgemut of corpses in varying states of decay playing instruments and dancing over a grave is the prototypical Danse Macabre. They all do seem a bit too happy though...
The Three Living and the Three Dead (late 15thCentury).
Two prints on paper leaves from a Book of Hours. About 11 x 18 cm.
Another variant of the Momento Moir theme is the Medieval story of the Three Living and the Three Dead. The parable relates how three kings became separated from their party while hunting in the woods. Three gruesome corpses appeared to them and revealed themselves to be the kings’ ancestors, extoling them to remember their mortality and to pray for their forefathers. A precursor to word balloons, the banderols above the Corpses’ and Kings’ heads reinforce the message, (in translation) “death is inevitable” and “time is uncertain”, etc.
Death Casting a Net (1737).
Print on a paper leaf from a Dutch edition of Abraham Santa Clara's De Kapelle der Dooden (Chapel of the Dead) on paper. About 10 x 16 cm.
A clever variation on the Danse Macabre, here death is depicted casting a net in which he’s collected hats representative of many walks of life. The devil may need to use bait when he fishes, but Death’s net ensnares everyone.
Corpse Musicians (c. 1830).
Print on a paper leaf from a Danse des Morts à Basle de Jn. Holbein. About 28 x 36 cm.
Designed by Hieronymus Hess, the elongated limbs and flowing drapery make this pair seem particularly animated in their playing as they pass before a charnel house brimming with skulls. On the page are couplets in French, German, and English. The foxing (brown spots) add to the page’s decayed appearance.
O man be wise, Hier this figure, Do not despise, Of ever creature
Death will take, Soon or late, Like the flowers, In the field does fade.
Death and the Blind Man (1843).
Print on paper leaf from Danse des Morts à Basle de Jn. Holbein. About 22 x 29 cm.
This print, from a different edition than the previous entry, depicts a dog leading a blind man towards an open grave. Death is shown cutting the dog’s leash thereby sealing the man’s fate. At least the dog seems to have made it through unharmed...
Corpse Musicians (1867).
Print on paper leaf. About 39 x 28 cm.
Here the merry band of former people dance about in a circle playing musical instruments (including a triangle!) and holding tools associated with death. The scene is framed by two ornamented triangles which act almost like curtains that reveal the macabre tableau.
Dancing Skeletons (1960s).
Cardboard Halloween decoration. About 22 x 16 cm.
Lest you think the Danse Macabre is a thing of the past, here’s a pair of dancing skeletons at a sock hop from the 1960s. Nothing is new; nothing ever disappears (except us, of course).
Some books about the Danse Macabre...
The Dance of Death (early 19th c.?)
Hardcover book. About 17 x 19 cm. 82 pp.
So this one requires a bit of explaining. This is a 19th century commentary in English on a mid-17th century interpretation of a very popular and influential 16th century Danse Macabre by Hans Holbein. Got it? Not only does the title page contain some beautifully-spaced typography, but also an owner’s inscription which adds to the overall aesthetics of the book as a design object.
From Hollar’s series, here’s a depiction of the Emperor, meting out justice while death upsets his crown.
Here the Miser is about to lose more than his cherished gold.
Dance of Death (1983)
Hardcover book. Abbeville. About 23 x 28 cm. 136 pp.
Ostensibly a collection of wood engravings by Fritz Eichenberg, most of this book consists of an illustrated historical overview of the Dance of Death by the artist/author. The latter portion reproduces a series of 17 of Eichenberg’s well-rendered satirical prints. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, representations of the Danse Macabre seem to have evolved from individuals dancing with death to more elaborate socio-political commentaries on war and human misery. This book provides a good popular introduction to the topic.
Danza Macabra Europea (2008)
Softcover book. Le Mani. About 17 x 24 cm. 180 pp.
This Italian volume reproduces five series of Alberto Martini’s macabre satires of the “Great War” (i.e., World War I). The first half of the book is composed of essays on the Danse Macabre and Martini’s life and career. In the second half, across 54 postcards illustrations in color, Martini reveals the graphic horrors of war in a style that reminds me of the stippled prints Boris Artzybasheff and Basil Wolverton (if you don’t know these guys, use your Google, people. Or wait for a later post...).
The Dance of Death in the Middle Ages: Image, Text, Performance (2010).
Hardcover book. Brepols. About 22 x 28 cm., 356 pp.
This hefty volume is well-illustrated collection of academic essays on the topic at hand issued by Brepols, a venerable Belgian publisher. I wouldn’t recommend this as an introductory text, but it does contain some interesting studies. I did the maths for you; there are 92 black and white figures, 45 color plates, and 4 foldouts. While the images are useful, this is not a coffee table picture book. Most amusing to me is the acknowledgement at the beginning, “Publication of this book was assisted by a subvention from the Medieval Academy of America”. So much more elegant than “grant”. Full disclosure: (many) years ago, I was a dues-paying member of the MAA.
Truth be told, I do have (more than a few) more images of the Danse Macabre and its kin, but I don’t want you to think I’m overly obsessed with this topic. I implore you to wait until more posts have accumulated before assessing my collecting proclivities and predilections.
Too long? Too gruesome? Let me know what you think. I hope that you enjoyed this post and that you might consider coming back to see what’s next.
Thank you for visiting.
de Gustibus
“Nothing is but what is not.”