Feeling at home with objects of devotion

In the Emma Bridgewater range of pottery and cutlery, are some forks that have on the handle “Eat with me” and knives with “Chop chop.” They are fun, but I expect that if you often had them on the table the messages would go unread.

I was reminded of these by a marvellous item in the fascinating exhibition on at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge until June 4. Four lovely table knives with handles of ebony and ivory have engraved on their wide steel blades staves of music and the words of grace before and after meals. The four knives give the four parts for Bassus, Tenor, Contratenor and Superius, providing a polyphonic arrangement of the simple graces. Quae sumpturi sumus benedicat trinus et unus Amen (“May the One and Trinity bless what we are about to receive. Amen”) and Pro tuis beneficiis deus gratias agimus tibi (“We give thee thanks, O God, for thy benefits”).

It is easy to imagine how pleasant it might have been Howard (the art historian probably best known for her books on Venice), says: “Because of the association of communal eating with the Last Supper and the Eucharist, a family meal could thus be invested with religious significance.” This is perfectly true. Yet I think the role of saying grace had long been wider. Eucharist does mean “thanksgiving”. But anything can be blessed (a marriage or a cow) and anything given thanks for (a day or a journey’s end). A meal is just the prime sort of thing to give thanks for.

What is striking about the Fitzwilliam exhibition is the integration of the religious and the mundane. A lovely double-sided ivory comb from the 15thcentury, perhaps part of a bride’s trousseau, is carved with the Annunciation on one side of the middle bar and the Nativity on the other, with the ass gently nuzzling the Child before whom Mary kneels. A 16th-century ruby ring has, on the back, known only to the wearer, the initials