wine-glasses are nearly as light in weight as ordinary letter-paper,
and the iridescence is most wonderful. One of the oldest forms has on
it red Indian girls, dressed like Italian ballet-dancers of a very
early period. There is reason to believe that this piece of glass was
made soon after the discovery of America, when the enthusiasm about
the region which the great Genoese had discovered filled all Italy.
It is very plain that no portraits of the squaws could have reached
the countrymen of Columbus when these dancers were designed. Mr. G. W.
Cooke, Academician and landscape-painter, had in early life a studio
in Venice, and he had a way of picking up bits of old glass in the
shops, the keepers of which were often willing, for a few soldi, to
part with things now worth (in some cases literally) their weight in
gold. Afterward he had, I believe, a studio in Agerola, and there also
found beautiful Italian glass. He collected in this way enough to fill
three or four large cases. After they were collected a considerable
quantity of ancient Spanish glass was obtained, and the fact was
made apparent that the latter was in some cases an imitation of the
former--the reverse being probably the case with the majolica, in which
Italy would seem to have imitated the Hispano-Moresque “lustre-wares.”
It is possible that a transfer of art-initiative from Spain to Italy
may have been one of the first bad results of the banishment of the
Moors, whose exquisite works are now models for our finest architects.
With reference to the hypothesis that the theatrical squaws are to be
referred to the interest that followed the discovery of America, I may
mention that there are several curious instances in the museum where
dates have been approximately fixed by the treatment of subjects. One
notable example is a Japanese dish, on which is a rude but reverent
representation of the baptism of Christ. Although certainty cannot
be reached yet in the matter, it is possible that this dish was made
before the extermination of Christianity from Japan (1641). However,
it is known that before the discovery of kaolin in Europe the English
and Dutch used to send over to China designs to be put on wares that
were ordered. There are various pieces of china which are marked with
English coats of arms, and a clergyman in Somersetshire has three
pieces marked with scenes of the Passion. But I believe there is no
instance where any such work is known to be Japanese, and, indeed, the
latter had not formerly any great reputation in England.
There are eight magnificent Japanese bronzes in the museum, of which
one is a figure of the beatified Buddha. It is impossible to gaze upon
this grand figure (about fifteen feet high), seated with crossed legs,
and open hands lying one in the other, without being impressed by a
certain majesty in the ideal it represents, as well as astonished
at the largeness of the undertaking which has produced a bronze of
such size. The figure is seated, as it were, on the ground, and the
round, infantine fulness and health of the face and the closed eyes
render it probable that it was meant to represent the supreme moment
when Sakya Muni attained, through humility and meditation, that sacred
Buddhahood (enlightenment) which he had vainly sought by practising
the severe asceticisms which the Brahmins enjoined upon him. “He met a
certain Brahmin,” says the Siamese version, “named Sotiya, and from him
accepted eight handfuls of long grass. The Master spread the grass on
the ground to the east of the Bo-tree, and sat thereon, and the grass
became a jewelled throne. The Lord, with well-steadied mind, turned
his whole thought to attain through purity and love the exaltation
of knowledge. And around him gathered the angels of many worlds
with fragrant offerings, and the strains of their celestial concert
resounded in the most distant universe.”
It is interesting to observe the strong impression made upon the casual
visitors by this face so sweetly serene, so free from the lines which
care and ambition trace upon the European face. I heard a little girl
of thirteen years say, after her silent gaze, “How I would like to
climb up and sit in his lap! Perhaps I would get some of his goodness.”
How many little ones of the East have felt the same as they looked upon
this face of perfect holiness!
The history of some of the other bronzes is as follows: An English
sea-captain saw three large bells, each seven or eight feet high, about
to be taken on a Japanese ship for ballast. He saw that they were of
antique and curious design, and was told that they had belonged to
a temple that had been destroyed. The Japanese seamen gladly parted
with them for a small sum, and told him of similar things near by.
These, which were two bronze vessels something like huge candlesticks,
each four and a half feet high--probably meant to support large masts
for flags--he found lying amidst rubbish of old metal. These noble
bronzes are elegantly modelled with dragon ornaments, and indicate a
development of skill in this direction which has never been equalled in
Europe. Besides these there are two large incense-burners eight feet
high, and wonderfully wrought with beautiful decorative and symbolical
forms.
[Illustration: MARBLE CANTORIA. BY BACCIO D’AGNOLO.]
But the indifference of the Japanese to their ancient relics is
paralleled by that which prevailed in the cathedral at Bois-le-Duc,
Holland, a few years ago, and led to the transfer to this museum of
one of the finest specimens of the French Renaissance that now exist.
In the rage for repairs the authorities of the cathedral pulled
down this, its magnificent rood-loft--which is marked 1623, and
consists of the finest colored marbles and many perfectly sculptured
statues--and substituted for it a conventional Gothic structure. This
great rood-loft--it covers one whole wall, sixty feet in width, and is
from thirty to forty feet high--was actually carted out in pieces as
rubbish, and lay in a corner of the cathedral yard, when some English
tourist, attracted by the beauty of one of the statues, made a small
offer for it, and finally purchased the entire structure for a few
pounds. Finding some difficulty in carrying it off, the tourist wrote
to the directors of the museum about it, and was overjoyed when they
agreed to purchase it for a thousand pounds. The museum was no less
happy in securing for a tithe of its value this unique and admirable
work, which is without damage of any kind, and stands in the New Court
just as it did in the cathedral which was unable to appreciate its
finest treasure. When the Queen of Holland recently visited the Museum,
she was not a little disgusted when she came to this rood-loft and
heard its history.
[Illustration: TABERNACLE. ANDREA FERRUCCI.]
[Illustration: ALTAR-PIECE--THE VIRGIN WITH THE INFANT
SAVIOUR.--ENAMELLED TERRA-COTTA, OR DELLA ROBBIA, IN HIGH RELIEF.--BY
ANDREA DELLA ROBBIA.]
Most of the “finds” by which the collection of ecclesiastical
architecture has been enriched have been made in Italy. One of the most
valuable of these is a Florentine “Cantoria,” which has been affixed
to the wall over the lower door-way of the North Court, and thus
supplying promenaders in the corridor above with a little balcony from
which the contents of the great room below may be best seen. This
singing-gallery was the work of Baccio d’Agnolo, and was set up in the
Church of Santa Maria Novella, in Florence, about the year 1500.
In the neighborhood of the same city, namely, at Fiesole, the Church of
San Girolamo was found willing, for small sums, to despoil itself of
two fine examples of its own great artist (1490), Andrea di Fiesole,
otherwise Ferrucci, and two works of the artist, not without honor
save in his own country--an altar-piece and a tabernacle--grace an
arcade of this museum. But the most precious possessions of this
character are the specimens of Della Robbia ware, of which this museum
has more than fifty examples. There were two men who gave this ware
its name--Luca and Andrea, uncle and nephew--and their work is almost
equally excellent. One of the pieces is a large terra-cotta medallion,
eleven feet in diameter, bearing the arms and emblems of King René of
Anjou, which was fixed in an exterior wall near Florence about fifty
years before America was discovered, and, after undergoing the weather
of over four centuries, its colors are as brilliant and its finest
mouldings as clear as if it had been made this year. An altar-piece,
probably by Andrea della Robbia, representing the Adoration of the
Magi, is certainly one of the finest works of art, pictorially as
well as in modelling, that have come to us from the era in which he
lived. There are some twenty figures in relief, and each face has
its own physiognomical distinctiveness, each head its phrenological
peculiarities, all as carefully portrayed as if Lavater and Spurzheim
had watched over the work. A figure of the Virgin and Child, with an
arched border of fruit and flowers, presents us with an expression
which could only be conveyed fully if the matchless colors could be
transferred to my page, but which entitles it to be classed among those
great Madonnas of art history which have influenced civilization.
[Illustration: HERCULES, THE DUKE OF FERRARA.]
The most conspicuous object in the North Court is the reproduction by
Mr. Franchi of a pulpit erected in the cathedral at Pisa by Giovanni
Pisano in 1302-11. A fire occurred in the cathedral in 1596 by which
this great work was damaged, and the panels--carvings in relief of
Scripture subjects--were deposited in the crypt; other parts of the
pulpit were removed to the arcades of the Campo Santo, and some others
incorporated in the new pulpit of the cathedral. Some ten years ago Mr.
Franchi, of whose wonderful skill the museum contains many evidences,
obtained from the cathedral authorities permission to take casts of
all these scattered parts of Pisano’s greatest work, and having done
so, he put them together; and now, more than two centuries and a half
after the structure vanished from Pisa, it has been set up at South
Kensington. The reproduction has been so perfect--even to the toning
of the marble (as it seems to be) by age--that no one could imagine it
to be a reproduction. And it was certainly worthy of all this care.
The supports of the circular tribune are groups of statues--Fortitude,
holding a lion by the tail, head downward; Prudence, with compass and
cornucopia; Justice, with scales; Charity, nursing twins; Temperantia,
who, oddly enough, is quite nude and in the Medicean attitude; and the
Evangelists. The statues, two-thirds the size of life, are grouped
around eight columns, which they nearly conceal. At the top of these
the tribune is enclosed by seven large panels, in which are finely
carved the Nativity, the Adoration of the Wise Men, the Presentation
in the Temple, the Massacre of the Innocents, the Betrayal, the
Crucifixion, the Resurrection. This noble work justifies the ancient
fame of Pisa as the home of sculpture.
The museum is particularly rich in Michael Angelos, considering that it
has had to glean after the Glyptothek of Munich, the Vatican, and the
Louvre. It possesses the beautiful Eros (see page 62) executed in the
great sculptor’s twenty-fourth year (1497), also his statuette of St.
Sebastian, unfinished, and showing the last touches of his chisel--as,
without the intervening appliances of modern sculpture, he carved his
idea directly on the marble. There is a female bust ascribed to him,
and another work in which he participated, which is quite unique: this
is a case of small models in wax and terra-cotta, of which twelve are
by Michael Angelo. This case was for a long time in the Gherardini
family, and was purchased by a Parliamentary grant in 1854 for the sum
of £2110. One of these little models is that of the slave. Buonarotti’s
two slaves or prisoners, the originals of which are in the Louvre,
are here in good copies, the one exhibiting the physical suffering of
the fettered man, the other the mental anguish of bondage. There are
also admirable casts of other works by the same artist, the finest
being the colossal figure of David, which stands in the new Tribune at
Florence. This copy was presented to the museum by the late Grand-Duke
of Tuscany, and is one of the many excellent fruits which have been
gathered from the international league which European princes have
entered into for the purpose of exchanging works of this character,
and reciprocally aiding in the work of enriching the museums which
constitute so important a feature of modern civilization. It is a happy
characteristic of this museum that one meets in it very few objects
whose interest or beauty is marred by association with war. The spoils
are few, the tokens of friendship with foreign nations innumerable.
Some pieces of work in gold brought back from Abyssinia and from the
kingdom of Ashantee--the latter close to the famous umbrella of King
Koffee--were exhibited, and a few of them remain here to show by their
exquisite chasing that blows aimed at so-called savages are likely to
fall upon the springing germs of civilization. The poorly designed but
wonderfully chased and jewelled symbols of Theodore excited general
admiration. The bird that was perched on the top of King Koffee’s
state chair is also of fine workmanship. It is rude in design, truly;
but it is hardly ruder than the gold dove, the ampulla which holds
the oil used at English coronations; and perhaps, like the latter, it
purposely imitated a primitive and consecrated form. These African
trophies are unpleasantly suggestive of the worst phase of British
policy, or impolicy; but they are slight incidents in a museum which
will forever be considered the ripest fruit of the long Victorian and
victorious era of Peace.
[Illustration: ASHANTEE RELICS.]
[Illustration: THE CELLINI SARDONYX EWER, MOUNTED IN ENAMELLED GOLD,
AND SET WITH GEMS--ITALIAN. SIXTEENTH CENTURY.]
It is quite impossible for me to invite my reader to an exploration
of the loan collections. Some of the ancient jewellery and gold work
which has been, or is, shown here is not only intrinsically priceless
and beautiful, but also historical, _e.g._, the Mexican sun-opal; the
largest known aqua-marine, set as a sword-hilt, formerly belonging
to the King of Naples (Joachim Murat); a cat’s-eye (largest known),
formerly belonging to King Candy; a piece of amber in which is a small
fish--all of which have been loaned by Beresford Hope, M.P. But the
great treasure belonging to this gentleman, and long exhibited here,
was the famous Cellini ewer. Previous to the great Revolution, it was
part of the crown-jewels of France, and Mr. Hope has recently sold it
to a collector in that country. This matchless work is ten and a half
inches in height; the body is formed of two convex pieces of carved
sardonyx, with a similar piece for pedestal; the handle and spout are
of gold, covered with masks and figures richly enamelled, and set with
rubies and diamonds. In place of this fragment of old French royalty,
which the explosion sent flying and the Republic has lured back, is
the brilliant gold missal case of Henrietta Maria. Some of the most
beautiful specimens of ancient _repoussé_ gold work and enamels were,
until recently, in a case made up chiefly from the collection of Mr.
Gladstone, whose fondness for things of this kind, though rather
indiscriminate, has done something to popularize the taste for them. In
a recent Christmas satire, “The Fijiad,” the Prime Minister has been
portrayed rather cleverly in his right environment:
“Great Homer’s bust upon the table stood--
Homer much talked of, little understood;
Around the bust were ranged, with curious care,
Gems of old Dresden or of Chelsea ware,
Cracked teapots, marvels of ceramic art,
Choice Faïence and Palissy set apart;
For great Gladisseus, warrior of renown,
For plates and pottery ransacked the town.
Made dowagers and virtuosi stare,
Collectors, jealous, tear their scanty hair.”
When the Gladstone collection was brought to the hammer, it did not
require many hours for the same cases to be refilled with objects quite
as beautiful from the large accumulation which the museum always has on
hand or obtainable in excess of its present room for their exhibition.
It is rather droll, however, to find one of Mr. Gladstone’s specimens
of sacred art replaced by a wonderful racing prize, a silver cup three
feet high, representing the “Birth of the Horse.” The winged steed
is rampant on top, while the gods and goddesses of Olympus gather
around it in homage. It is modern English work, and would do for an
allegorical representation of the august divinities of Parliament
adjourning to honor the American winged winner of the Derby in 1881.
[Illustration: CHÂSSE, OR RELIQUARY--LIMOGES ENAMEL. THIRTEENTH
CENTURY.]
One of the most important loan exhibitions ever opened at the museum
was completed at the end of May, 1881. It consists of Spanish and
Portuguese ornamental art. On my way to visit this exhibition I read
in a daily paper the invitation extended by the present King of Spain
to the Jews of Russia to take refuge from their persecutions in the
Peninsula from which they were so cruelly expelled three hundred
and eighty-nine years ago. The first object which met my eye in the
exhibition was traced with the spirit which led to that inhuman decree.
It is a large altar-piece, or retable, painted in distemper on panel,
in seventeen Gothic compartments, the subjects being from the legend
of St. George. It is of wood, twenty-two feet in height, sixteen feet
in width, and is from a destroyed church in Valencia. One of the three
centre compartments represents James I. of Aragon rescued by St. George
in battle against the Moors. At the bottom there are ten compartments
painted with subjects from the life of Christ. In these pictures the
figures and faces of the Jews have been carefully mutilated. Jesus and
his disciples remain to prove how beautifully the artist had done his
work; the hacked and scratched figures around them remain to attest
that in the fifteenth century, to which the work belongs, fanaticism
was strong enough in Spain to invade the altar and destroy the most
beautiful works by which Art was seeking to soften human ferocity.
In one of the panels Jesus, with a face of utmost benignity, is
represented receiving the kiss of Judas on his left cheek, and at the
same time extending his right hand to touch the ear of Malchus. This
servant of Caiaphas would seem, from so much of him as is left, to be
in a half-kneeling posture. Peter, with angry face, holds over Malchus
his short sword. One may see here the spirit of fanaticism making its
choice between the gentle healer of wounds and the fierce inflicter
of them. Upon this stony hatred the Inquisition built its church. The
knife which hewed and hacked the Jewish figures of these once beautiful
panels was presently mutilating the Spanish Jews themselves. In 1492
the greatness and littleness of Spain culminated together: by the
nobility of Isabella, Columbus was enabled to discover America; by the
meanness of Ferdinand, the Jews and the Moors were driven out of Spain
with every circumstance of inhumanity.
And now King Alfonso wants them back. There was once an Alfonso who
thought he could have suggested a better world than this, if the
Creator had consulted him; the present Alfonso will not be censured for
thinking he could have created a better Spain than was fashioned by the
Inquisitors. One need only look around upon this wonderful collection
of Spanish objects of art to see that it was Spain’s self as much as
Jews or Moors that the sword of fanaticism mutilated and disfigured.
Here is the splendid _débris_ of arts which Moorish genius and Jewish
wealth combined to render possible. From the time of their expulsion
Spanish art suffered a progressive decline. Dark and symbolical seems
the purple velvet banner of the “Holy Office” sent here by Madrid,
where it used to be carried in procession to every _auto-da-fé_. On it
embroidered angels hold the instruments of Christ’s suffering, which
Inquisitors turned upon humanity, and the inscription is, “Clamaus
voce magna emissit spiritum.” The color of this strange banner is that
of blood grown darker with time. It came from the side of crucified
humanity. But it was Spain that breathed out its spirit, now loudly
recalled.
Of the Moresque porcelain I have already spoken in pages of this work
written before the Loan Exhibition was opened. Suffice it to say that
there are here the best specimens of that lustre-ware in existence.
“During the sixteenth century,” says Senor Riaño, “the Spaniards
did nothing but imitate what was done in other countries.”[B] In
the seventeenth century, when a Spanish pictorial art was born with
Velasquez, Murillo, and Zurbaran, it was reflected in some of the
wood-carvings, notably in those of Alonso Cano. The most artistic piece
of such work at South Kensington is a statue of St. Francis of Assisi
by that artist; it is carved in walnut, and exquisitely painted. Lady
Charlotte Schreiber has loaned a remarkable circular jewel, sixteenth
century, of which there is a legend. When Charles V. was visiting the
northern towns of his paternal duchy, a Frisian gentleman, Governor of
Harlingen, named Humalda, warned him against embarking on the Zuyder
Zee with some troops he was despatching to the opposite shore. The
emperor reluctantly yielded; the tempest Humalda predicted arose, and
every man was lost. Charles said to Humalda, “Thou art my Star of the
Sea” (_sternsee_); and afterward had this jewel made for the Frisian,
who thenceforth assumed the name Sternsee, borne by his descendants.
The jewel represents Charles V. standing on a star-spangled orb, rocked
by the Devil from below, and at the sides figures of Death and War. The
inscription around it is, “Carolus V. Sternsee. In te Domine speravi.”
Many of the inscriptions found upon Spanish ornamental works were
in Cufic characters even after the banishment of the Moors. The
workmen seemed to realize the value of letters which made beautiful
fringes while they conveyed meanings. But it is only in ancient
Hispano-Moresque carvings that the Cufic inscriptions are found in
their perfection. An ivory casket, eleventh century, is covered with
deeply-cut figures of conventional birds and animals, and around the
margin of the lid is a Cufic inscription saying, “In the name of God.
The blessing of God, happiness, prosperity, good-fortune, perfect
health and peace of mind, perpetual pleasures and delight to the owner
of this casket.” Another ivory box has round its dome-shaped cover, “I
display the fairest of sights. Beauty has cast upon me a robe bright
with gems. Behold in me a vessel for musk, for camphor, and ambergris.”