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t appears the unicorn
has been around for as long as 5,000 years. That's the
approximate date of the oldest surviving works of art depicting this imaginary
creature, which scholars believe may have its origins in fanciful descriptions
of the rhinoceros. But artists, adventurers and other dreamers needed
a creature more charming and graceful than the rhino—too swift to be
captured, too fierce to be tamed, too beautiful to be forgotten, too mysterious
to be understood.

eauty
and mystery also surround the most famous works of art to picture these
animals, the seven Unicorn Tapestries. Woven about 1500, probably in Brussels,
the tapestries are mostly wool with some silk and metallic threads. All
of their myriad colors were derived from only three dye plants: madder
(reds), weld (yellows), and woad (blues). All seven have sustained some
damage and only fragments of the fifth have survived. Two of the tapestries,
the first and seventh, incorporate wonderful examples of the stylized millefleurs
(thousand flowers) design as backgrounds. The others depict realistic woodland
and garden settings. The tapestries have been housed at The Cloisters,
a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, since it opened in 1938. They
are exhibited in a specially built room with a volcanic stone doorway topped
by carved unicorns, a limestone fireplace, stained-glass Gothic windows and
period furnishings intended to suggest a nobleman's chambers, including a
beaker from the 1600s believed at the time to be the horn of a unicorn (since
determined to have been made from the elongated and spiraled tusk of a narwhal).
he
tapestries have provided
both pleasure and puzzle for years: Nobody knows who created them or why,
nor exactly what they mean. The iconography of the tapestries suggests that
they were created to celebrate a marriage. An inventory dated 1680 (almost
two centuries after they were made) records that the tapestries belonged
to François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld (author of the
Maximes). They
were taken from the family's château at Verteuil in 1793, during the
French Revolution. They were rediscovered in the 1850s on a farm where
they had been used for 50 years—to cover potato crops! In
1922 they were purchased from the de La Rochefoucauld family by John D. Rockefeller. They hung in his Manhattan townhouse until
he donated them to the museum
in 1937.
or anyone accustomed to
seeing images of the Unicorn Tapestries on note cards or in art books, reality
can be a shock. First off, they are huge—so huge that even standing six
feet back, you have to tilt your head all the way back to see the top. (They
differ in size, but 12 feet by 12 feet is the average.) Second, the weaving
is so spectacular you may think you are looking at a painting. The designs
are brightly colored and so extraordinarily detailed that more than 100
species of plants appear, 85 of which have been identified. One of the gardens
at The Cloisters has been planted, with as many of the plants as can be found,
in a design as close as possible to the "Unicorn in the Garden" tapestry.
our of the seven segments
tell the story of a hunt for the elusive unicorn, but the subjects are richly
allegorical. The
Christian interpretation was that the capture, death, and restoration of the unicorn (as
the symbol of purity representing Christ) represented the
incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus. At the same time, many of
the tapestries' motifs contain well defined meanings related to courtly
love, marriage, and fertility. The pomegranate, for example, prominent in
the seventh tapestry, represented the church, Jesus, the promise of immortality,
and human fertility. Other scholars believe the tapestries mingle various
symbolisms, such as Passion, Resurrection (The Unicorn in Captivity) and
even as a metaphor for love. While the
tapestries were at one time believed to be part of the same series, this
has been much debated in recent years.
n
"The Unicorn in Captivity",
the red stains on his flank are, according to a label on the wall in the
museum, juice from ripe pomegranates. But couldn't they be blood from
his wounds? Is he really a happy pet in the colorful garden, or is he
trapped and misunderstood, gathering his strength to take the leap over
his pen, to escape his captors?
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