In the miniature below, a nude lady is dancing cheerfully in front of a gold background embellished with three trees. Her arms are raised in enthusiasm as she and her red-dressed companion gaze intently at the unicorn. Why is the unicorn, which has a great smile of his face, so happy to see the nude lady? The unicorn and the unclothed lady greet each other so cordially that, we might presume, they must recognize each other. But a sprightly nude dancing lady in a devotional manuscript?

_{Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library – Beinecke MS 404 folio 51r (detail & full page) – Rothschild Canticles – Flanders or Rhineland – circa 1300 – (the last illustration gives an indication of the size – 118mm x 84mm)}

The above miniatures originate from a 14th century manuscript, The Rothschild Canticles, created in Flanders or the Rhineland. It is a highly unusual manuscript, possibly made for a nun or a noble woman and meant, considering its minute size, for personal devotion. Apart from a fascinating series of full-page Trinitarian miniatures, The Rothschild Canticles overflows in mystical imagery where animals, clergy, unicorns, nude figures, hybrids, grotesques, musicians and entertainers abound.

The lower register (second slide in the slideshow) clarifies, at least partially, the upper register. The wilful unicorn has fallen into a trap. A dressed woman, looking remarkably similar to the nude woman of the first register, is cradling the unicorn while a hunter stabs it with a spear. It is now obvious that her dancing, where she used her sensual female charms to the full, was intended seduce the unknowing unicorn. This miniature is full of Christian symbolism. The double register miniature relates the familiar legend that only a virgin can tame the wild, often unmanageable mythological unicorn. Once captured the animal is doomed to suffer. Taking this thought a little further the virgin in the miniature symbolizes Maria, the unicorn the Passion of Christ and the pail, into which the wounded unicorns blood drips, the chalice. Similar miniatures, illustrating the capture of the unicorn, appear in diverse manuscripts, but, as far as I know, the virgin is always clothed. There is one exception; a nude virgin appears in the Rochester Bestiary (B.L. Royal MS 12F XIII) but she merely restrains the unicorn and there is absolutely no suggestion of any kind of seduction or dancing.

The artist of the following three full-page miniatures celebrates dance. Each miniature illustrates a passage in the scriptures. In folio 13r the nine women, who incidentally bear more than a slight resemblance in both movement and features the nude dancer with the unicorn, dance spontaneously to the music played by the angel in the right hand corner. The artist has translated their joy, their exaltation, their vivacity into spirited movement. This anonymous medieval artist swings, to use a 20th century expression, to the outer edges of the frame. The women intertwine, overlap, hold hands, sway their arms, whirl their hips, shoulders and torsos to the rhythm of the heavenly violist. This exuberant miniature illustrates the Virgins of Revelation or the souls of chaste believers.

The lower two registers of this three register miniature tells the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. In the top register six figures, the souls dancing in heaven, are arranged in a line dance. Three pillars divide the space which gives the impression that we are looking at three couples dancing even though all the dancers connect with each other, either by holding hands or reaching outwards. But how can one envisage souls dancing in heaven? Would a generous helping of decorum be appropriate? This dance, on sacred ground, is especially lighthearted, the dancers swinging their hips, inclining their torsos and focusing their entire attention on their partner, independent of gender. Looking at them you would almost forget that ghastly figure at the bottom left of the page pocking his lance at one of the foolish virgins.

The figures at the base of Mount Sion are just as animated as the dancers in the previous miniatures. As Mary stands on Mount Sion the three men rock from side to side inclining deeply, or as the centre man, leap into the air. On either side of the mountain there is a figure dancing to his heart’s content, swinging and waving his arms in adoration. In all the above miniatures the artist displays flair for drawing dynamic and elated movement; in each case as an expression of religious adoration. Besides the above miniatures The Rothschild Canticles has, among its marginalia, more dance and dance-related illustrations. I have discussed these in my blog The Acrobatic Dancer.

The longest iconographic cycle of the Book of Revelation, made during the Middle-Ages, is the Apocalyse de S. Jean, en français created for Isabelle de France, wife of Edward II of England, in 1313. The first half of the manuscript is full the most magnificent miniatures. On every second page there is a full-page vivid coloured visualization from the Book of Revelation and on most other pages a smaller miniature showing Saint John actually writing the text. The manuscript, with its many beautiful, but equally many horrific scenes of hell and damnation, was signed and dated by its illuminator, a certain Colin Chadewe born in the Mosan region and working in Liège. Only one miniature involves dancing: The Marriage Supper of The Lamb. The table is set, the Lamb is located centre stage and the feast is in progress. At this sacred marriage, angels sound their trumpets and the one figure, who has no halo, dances. She, most probably a guest, is the only figure to be seen from the back and the only one who neither carries an instrument nor a utensil. Her hair is carefully groomed in a delicate roll at the back of her head. Her gown, not dissimilar to that of the angels, swings around her lifted leg. Her dancing is joyful and carefree, but none of the dignitaries at the table appear to notice her or her dancing. The artist has staged the miniature in three layers; music and dance occupy the lowest layer thus our dancer looks as if she is dancing under the edge of the table looking at the table cloth. This use of layers is, of course, is just a technical device; a medieval tool to create an impression of perspective.

The artists of the most famous illuminated manuscripts, Les Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, the brothers Limbourg, left but one dance image. On a large miniature in Les Belles heures du Duc de Berry we find Saint Jerome in an awkward predicament. The church father, St Jerome, often depicted in red, cardinal garb with his lion at his feet, is being tempted by two dancing girls. In this miniature, St Jerome resists the temptation, returns to the church, all the while being tormented by a devil forcefully turning the saint’s head in the direction of the girls. Even though the devotional text and the legend of St Jerome’s exile in the wilderness, informs us that these women are dancers, I find these girls very statuesque and not all enticing. Nothing in the miniature indicates dance; placid posture, no essence of movement, eyes cast down and no music or musician. The ornate castle is totally disproportional. The elongated figures of the exquisitely dressed women recall the typical female stance common to International Gothic art where tall and slender women, with tiny waistlines, stand poised in a slight s-curve. One could wonder why these supposedly alluring women appear so lifeless, so motionless. I could only guess that the patron, the Duke de Berry, approved and was delighted with the distinguished elegance of this artistic style.

In another manuscript, Les Petites heures du Jean de Berry, commissioned by the bibliophile Jean de Berry, Salome dances before Herod. Like the dancing girls enticing Saint Jerome, she stands in a gentle s-curve. Contrary to those femmes fatales this young girl really dances; you can practically see her moving across the floor, graciously beating her tambourine.

It continues to be difficult to pinpoint with an exactitude which medieval artist created a particular work. This manuscript was illustrated by a team of artists led by the Frenchmen Jean le Noir. Various experts attribute the Salome miniature to Jacquemaat de Hesdin, a Flemish artist working in France.

This post started with some thoughts about the nude dancer in a devotional manuscript. To conclude, let us take a quick look at a very small miniature from an historical bible where two rows of three bare figures perform like revue dancers in a musical. These androgynous characters, their bald heads and vague body shape giving little clue to their gender, advance forward along the base of the miniature. We can dispute if these figures are actually dancing but they are unmistakably moving in unison. Both the right and left trio have the same bare foot placed forward and in both cases the legs are modestly overlapping. These amusing figures have their eyes open, but their mouths are closed so we can exclude the possibility of them praying or singing. The fact that they hold their hands folded together may suggest a position of reverence or that they are clapping in exaltation. The context eludes me. Do these figures actually occur in the scriptures? Or are they a symbolic or metaphorical allusion? It remains bizarre, that these cartoon-like figures are juxtaposed against the enthroned Virgin and child, a chalice and a worried God that towers down from a great height over a curly velvety-like collar.