CHAPTER I

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ARTS AND CRAFTS IN THE MIDDLE AGES

A Description of Mediaeval Workmanship in Several of the Departments

of Applied Art, Together with Some Account of Special Artisans in

the Early Renaissance

by

JULIA DE WOLF ADDISON

Author of "The Art of the Pitti Palace," "The Art of the National

Gallery," "Classic Myths in Art," etc.

[Illustration: EXAMPLES OF ECCLESIASTICAL METAL WORK]

INTRODUCTION

The very general and keen interest in the revival of arts and crafts

in America is a sign full of promise and pleasure to those who

are working among the so-called minor arts. One reads at every

turn how greatly Ruskin and Morris have influenced handicraft: how

much these men and their co-workers have modified the appearance

of our streets and houses, our materials, textiles, utensils, and

all other useful things in which it is possible to shock or to

please the æsthetic taste, without otherwise affecting the value

of these articles for their destined purposes.

In this connection it is interesting to look into the past, particularly

to those centuries known as the Middle Ages, in which the handicrafts

flourished in special perfection, and to see for ourselves how

these crafts were pursued, and exactly what these arts really were.

Many people talk learnedly of the delightful revival of the arts

and crafts without having a very definite idea of the original

processes which are being restored to popular favour. William Morris

himself, although a great modern spirit, and reformer, felt the

necessity of a basis of historic knowledge in all workers. "I do

not think," he says, "that any man but one of the highest genius

could do anything in these days without much study of ancient art,

and even he would be much hindered if he lacked it." It is but

turning to the original sources, then, to examine the progress

of mediæval artistic crafts, and those sources are usually to be

found preserved for our edification in enormous volumes of plates,

inaccessible to most readers, and seldom with the kind of information

which the average person would enjoy. There are very few books

dealing with the arts and crafts of the olden time, which are adapted

to inform those who have no intention of practising such arts,

and yet who wish to understand and appreciate the examples which

they see in numerous museums or exhibitions, and in travelling

abroad. There are many of the arts and crafts which come under

the daily observation of the tourist, which make no impression

upon him and have no message for him, simply because he has never

considered the subject of their origin and construction. After

one has once studied the subject of historic carving, metal work,

embroidery, tapestry, or illumination, one can never fail to look

upon these things with intelligent interest and vastly increased

pleasure.

Until the middle of the nineteenth century art had been regarded

as a luxury for the rich dilettante,--the people heard little of

it, and thought less. The utensils and furniture of the middle class

were fashioned only with a view to utility; there was a popular belief

that beautiful things were expensive, and the thrifty housekeeper who

had no money to put into bric-à-brac never thought of such things as

an artistic lamp shade or a well-coloured sofa cushion. Decorative

art is well defined by Mr. Russell Sturgis: "Fine art applied to the

making beautiful or interesting that which is made for utilitarian

purposes."

Many people have an impression that the more ornate an article

is, the more work has been lavished upon it. There never was a

more erroneous idea. The diligent polish in order to secure nice

plain surfaces, or the neat fitting of parts together, is infinitely

more difficult than adding a florid casting to conceal clumsy

workmanship. Of course certain forms of elaboration involve great

pains and labour; but the mere fact that a piece of work is decorated

does not show that it has cost any more in time and execution than if

it were plain,--frequently many hours have been saved by the device

of covering up defects with cheap ornament. How often one finds that

a simple chair with a plain back costs more than one which is

apparently elaborately carved! The reason is, that the plain one had

to be made out of a decent piece of wood, while the ornate one was

turned out of a poor piece, and then stamped with a pattern in order

to attract the attention from the inferior material of which it was

composed. The softer and poorer the wood, the deeper it was possible

to stamp it at a single blow. The same principle applies to

much work in metal. Flimsy bits of silverware stamped with cheap

designs of flowers or fruits are attached to surfaces badly finished,

while the work involved in making such a piece of plate with a

plain surface would increase its cost three or four times.

A craft may easily be practised without art, and still serve its

purpose; the alliance of the two is a means of giving pleasure

as well as serving utility. But it is a mistake to suppose that

because a design is artistic, its technical rendering is any the

less important. Frequently curious articles are palmed off on us,

and designated as "Arts and Crafts" ornaments, in which neither

art nor craft plays its full share. Art does not consist only in

original, unusual, or unfamiliar designs; craft does not mean hammering

silver so that the hammer marks shall show; the best art is that

which produces designs of grace and appropriateness, whether they

are strikingly new or not, and the best craftsman is so skilful

that he is able to go beyond the hammer marks, so to speak, and

to produce with the hammer a surface as smooth as, and far more

perfect than, that produced by an emery and burnisher. Some people

think that "Arts and Crafts" means a combination which allows of

poor work being concealed under a mask of æsthetic effect. Labour

should not go forth blindly without art, and art should not proceed

simply for the attainment of beauty without utility,--in other

words, there should be an alliance between labour and art.

One principle for which craftsmen should stand is

a respect for their own tools: a frank recognition of the methods

and implements employed in constructing any article. If the article

in question is a chair, and is really put together by means of

sockets and pegs, let these constructive necessities appear, and do

not try to disguise the means by which the result is to be attained.

Make the requisite feature a beauty instead of a disgrace.

It is amusing to see a New England farmer build a fence. He begins

with good cedar posts,--fine, thick, solid logs, which are at least

genuine, and handsome so far as a cedar post is capable of being

handsome. You think, "Ah, that will be a good unobjectionable fence."

But, behold, as soon as the posts are in position, he carefully lays

a flat plank vertically in front of each, so that the passer-by

may fancy that he has performed the feat of making a fence of flat

laths, thus going out of his way to conceal the one positive and

good-looking feature in his fence. He seems to have some furtive

dread of admitting that he has used the real article!

A bolt is to be affixed to a modern door. Instead of being applied

with a plate of iron or brass, in itself a decorative feature on

a blank space like that of the surface of a door, the carpenter

cuts a piece of wood out of the edge of the door, sinks the bolt

out of sight, so that nothing shall appear to view but a tiny

meaningless brass handle, and considers that he has performed a very

neat job. Compare this method with that of a mediæval locksmith,

and the result with his great iron bolt, and if you can not appreciate

the difference, both in principle and result, I should recommend a

course of historic art study until you are convinced. On the other

hand, it is not necessary to carry your artistry so far that you

build a fence of nothing but cedar logs touching one another, or that

you cover your entire door with a meander of wrought iron which

culminates in a small bolt. Enthusiastic followers of the Arts and

Crafts movement often go to morbid extremes. _Recognition_ of

material and method does not connote a _display_ of method and

material out of proportion to the demands of the article to be

constructed. As in other forms of culture, balance and sanity are

necessary, in order to produce a satisfactory result.

But when a craftsman is possessed of an æsthetic instinct and faculty,

he merits the congratulations offered to the students of Birmingham by

William Morris, when he told them that they were among the happiest

people in all civilization--"persons whose necessary daily work is

inseparable from their greatest pleasure."

A mediæval artist was usually a craftsman as well. He was not content

with furnishing designs alone, and then handing them over to men

whose hands were trained to their execution, but he took his own

designs and carried them out. Thus, the designer adapted his drawing

to the demands of his material and the craftsman was necessarily in

sympathy with the design since it was his own. The result was a harmony

of intention and execution which is often lacking when two men of

differing tastes produce one object. Lübke sums up the talents of

a mediæval artist as follows: "A painter could produce panels with

coats of arms for the military men of noble birth, and devotional

panels with an image of a saint or a conventionalized scene from

Scripture for that noble's wife. With the same brush and on a larger

panel he could produce a larger sacred picture for the convent

round the corner, and with finer pencil and more delicate touch

he could paint the vellum leaves of a missal;" and so on. If an

artistic earthenware platter was to be made, the painter turned

to his potter's wheel and to his kiln. If a filigree coronet was

wanted, he took up his tools for metal and jewelry work.

Redgrave lays down an excellent maxim for general guidance to designers

in arts other than legitimate picture making. He says: "The picture

must be independent of the material, the thought alone should govern

it; whereas in decoration the material must be one of the suggestors

of the thought, its use must govern the design." This shows the

difference between decoration and pictorial art.

One hears a great deal of the "conventional" in modern art talk. Just

what this means, few people who have the word in their vocabularies

really know. As Professor Moore defined it once, it does not apply

to an arbitrary theoretical system at all, but is instinctive. It

means obedience to the limits under which the artist works. The

really greatest art craftsmen of all have been those who have

recognized the limitations of the material which they employed. Some

of the cleverest have been beguiled by the fascination of overcoming

obstacles, into trying to make iron do the things appropriate only

to wood, or to force cast bronze into the similitude of a picture,

or to discount all the credit due to a fine piece of embroidery by

trying to make it appear like a painting. But these are the exotics;

they are the craftsmen who have been led astray by a false impulse,

who respect difficulty more than appropriateness, war rather than

peace! No elaborate and tortured piece of Cellini's work can compare

with the dignified glory of the Pala d'Oro; Ghiberti's gates in

Florence, though a marvellous _tour de force_, are not so satisfying

as the great corona candelabrum of Hildesheim. As a rule, we shall

find that mediæval craftsmen were better artists than those of the

Renaissance, for with facility in the use of material, comes always

the temptation to make it imitate some other material, thus losing

its individuality by a contortion which may be curious and interesting,

but out of place. We all enjoy seeing acrobats on the stage, but it

would be painful to see them curling in and out of our drawing-room

chairs.

The true spirit which the Arts and Crafts is trying to inculcate

was found in Florence when the great artists turned their attention

to the manipulation of objects of daily use, Benvenuto Cellini being

willing to make salt-cellars, and Sansovino to work on inkstands, and

Donatello on picture frames, while Pollajuolo made candlesticks.

The more our leading artists realize the need of their attention

in the minor arts, the more nearly shall we attain to a genuine

alliance between the arts and the crafts.

To sum up the effect of this harmony between art and craft in the

Middle Ages, the Abbé Texier has said: "In those days art and

manufactures were blended and identified; art gained by this affinity

great practical facility, and manufacture much original beauty."

And then the value to the artist is almost incalculable. To spend

one's life in getting means on which to live is a waste of all

enjoyment. To use one's life as one goes along--to live every day

with pleasure in congenial occupation--that is the only thing worth

while. The life of a craftsman is a constant daily fulfilment of

the final ideal of the man who spends all his time and strength

in acquiring wealth so that some time (and he may never live to

see the day) he may be able to control his time and to use it as

pleases him. There is stored up capital represented in the life

of a man whose work is a recreation, and expressive of his own

personality.

In a book of this size it is not possible to treat of every art

or craft which engaged the skill of the mediæval workers. But at

some future time I hope to make a separate study of the ceramics,

glass in its various forms, the arts of engraving and printing, and

some of the many others which have added so much to the pleasure

and beauty of the civilized world.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

INTRODUCTION

I. Gold and Silver

II. Jewelry and Precious Stones

III. Enamel

IV. Other Metals

V. Tapestry

VI. Embroideries

VII. Sculpture in Stone (France and Italy)

VIII. Sculpture in Stone (England and Germany)

IX. Carving in Wood and Ivory

X. Inlay and Mosaic

XI. Illumination of Books

Bibliography

Index

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Examples of Ecclesiastical Metal Work

Crown of Charlemagne

Bernward's Cross and Candlesticks, Hildesheim

Bernward's Chalice, Hildesheim

Corona at Hildesheim. (detail)

Reliquary at Orvieto

Apostle spoons

Ivory Knife Handles, with Portraits of Queen Elizabeth and James I. Englis

The "Milkmaid Cup"

Saxon Brooch

The Tara Brooch

Shrine of the Bell of St. Patrick

The Treasure of Guerrazzar

Hebrew Ring

Crystal Flagons, St. Mark's, Venice

Sardonyx Cup, 11th Century, Venice

German Enamel, 13th Century

Enamelled Gold Book Cover, Siena

Detail; Shrine of the Three Kings, Cologne

Finiguerra's Pax, Florence

Italian Enamelled Crozier, 14th Century

Wrought Iron Hinge, Frankfort

Biscornette's Doors at Paris

Wrought Iron from the Bargello, Florence

Moorish Keys, Seville

Armour. Showing Mail Developing into Plate

Damascened Helmet

Moorish Sword

Enamelled Suit of Armour

Brunelleschi's Competitive Panel

Ghiberti's Competitive Panel

Font at Hildesheim, 12th Century

Portrait Statuette of Peter Vischer

A Copper "Curfew"

Sanctuary Knocker, Durham Cathedral

Anglo-Saxon Crucifix of Lead

Detail, Bayeux Tapestry

Flemish Tapestry, "The Prodigal Son"

Tapestry, Representing Paris in the 15th Century

Embroidery on Canvas, 16th Century, South Kensington Museum

Detail of the Syon Cope

Dalmatic of Charlemagne

Embroidery, 15th Century, Cologne

Carved Capital from Ravenna

Pulpit of Nicola Pisano, Pisa

Tomb of the Son of St. Louis, St. Denis

Carvings around Choir Ambulatory, Chartres

Grotesque from Oxford, Popularly Known as "The Backbiter"

The "Beverly minstrels"

St. Lorenz Church, Nuremberg, Showing Adam Kraft's Pyx, and the Hanging

Medallion by Veit Stoss

Relief by Adam Kraft

Carved Box--wood Pyx, 14th Century

Miserere Stall; An Artisan at Work

Miserere Stall, Ely; Noah and the Dove

Miserere Stall; the Fate of the Ale-wife

Ivory Tabernacle, Ravenna

The Nativity; Ivory Carving

Pastoral Staff; Ivory, German, 12th Century

Ivory Mirror Case; Early 14th Century

Ivory Mirror Case, 1340

Chessman from Lewis

Marble Inlay from Lucca

Detail of Pavement, Baptistery, Florence

Detail of Pavement, Siena; "Fortune," by Pinturicchio

Ambo at Ravello; Specimen of Cosmati Mosaic

Mosaic from Ravenna; Theodora and Her Suite, 16th Century

Mosaic in Bas-relief, Naples

A Scribe at Work; 12th Century Manuscript

Detail from the Durham Book

Ivy Pattern, from a 14th Century French Manuscript

Mediæval Illumination

Caricature of a Bishop

Illumination by Gherart David of Bruges, 1498; St. Barbara

Choral Book, Siena

Detail from an Italian Choral Book

ARTS AND CRAFTS IN THE MIDDLE AGES

CHAPTER I

GOLD AND SILVER

The worker in metals is usually called a smith, whether he be

coppersmith or goldsmith. The term is Saxon in origin, and is derived

from the expression "he that smiteth." Metal was usually wrought

by force of blows, except where the process of casting modified

this.

Beaten work was soldered from the earliest times. Egyptians evidently

understood the use of solder, for the Hebrews obtained their knowledge

of such things from them, and in Isaiah xli. 7, occurs the passage:

"So the carpenter encouraged the goldsmith, and he that smootheth

with the hammer him that smote the anvil, saying, 'It is ready

for the soldering.'" In the Bible there are constant references

to such arts in metal work as prevail in our own times: "Of beaten

work made he the candlesticks," Exodus. In the ornaments of the

tabernacle, the artificer Bezaleel "made two cherubims of gold

beaten out of one piece made he them."

An account of gold being gathered in spite of vicissitudes

is given by Pliny: "Among the Dardoe the ants are as large as Egyptian

wolves, and cat coloured. The Indians gather the gold dust thrown up

by the ants, when they are sleeping in their holes in the Summer;

but if these animals wake, they pursue the Indians, and, though

mounted on the swiftest camels, overtake and tear them to pieces."

Another legend relates to the blessed St. Patrick, through whose

intercession special grace is supposed to have been granted to

all smiths. St. Patrick was a slave in his youth. An old legend

tells that one time a wild boar came rooting in the field, and

brought up a lump of gold; and Patrick brought it to a tinker,

and the tinker said, "It is nothing but solder. Give it here to

me." But then he brought it to a smith, and the smith told him it

was gold; and with that gold he bought his freedom. "And from that

time," continues the story, "the smiths have been lucky, taking

money every day, and never without work, but as for the tinkers,

every man's face is against them!"

In the Middle Ages the arts and crafts were generally protected by

the formation of guilds and fraternities. These bodies practically

exercised the right of patent over their professions, and infringements

could be more easily dealt with, and frauds more easily exposed, by

means of concerted effort on the part of the craftsmen. The goldsmiths

and silversmiths were thus protected in England and France, and in most

of the leading European art centres. The test of pure gold was made

by "six of the more discreet goldsmiths," who went about and

superintended the amount of alloy to be employed; "gold of the

standard of the touch of Paris" was the French term for metal of the

required purity. Any goldsmith using imitation stones or otherwise

falsifying in his profession was punished "by imprisonment and by

ransom at the King's pleasure." There were some complaints that

fraudulent workers "cover tin with silver so subtilely... that

the same cannot be discovered or separated, and so sell tin for

fine silver, to the great damage and deceipt of us." This state

of things finally led to the adoption of the Hall Mark, which is

still to be seen on every piece of silver, signifying that it has

been pronounced pure by the appointed authorities.

The goldsmiths of France absorbed several other auxiliary arts, and

were powerful and influential. In state processions the goldsmiths

had the first place of importance, and bore the royal canopy when

the King himself took part in the ceremony, carrying the shrine

of St. Genevieve also, when it was taken forth in great pageants.

In the quaint wording of the period, goldsmiths were forbidden to

gild or silver-plate any article made of copper or latten, unless

they left some part of the original exposed, "at the foot or some

other part,... to the intent that a man may see whereof the thing

is made for to eschew the deceipt aforesaid." This law was enacted

in 1404.

Many of the great art schools of the Middle Ages were established

in connection with the numerous monasteries scattered through all

the European countries and in England. The Rule of St. Benedict

rings true concerning the proper consecration of an artist: "If

there be artists in the monastery, let them exercise their crafts

with all humility and reverence, provided the abbot shall have

ordered them. But if any of them be proud of the skill he hath in

his craft, because he thereby seemeth to gain something for the

monastery, let him be removed from it and not exercise it again,

unless, after humbling himself, the abbot shall permit him." Craft

without graft was the keynote of mediæval art.

King Alfred had a monastic art school at Athelney, in which he had

collected "monks of all kinds from every quarter." This accounts

for the Greek type of work turned out at this time, and very likely

for Italian influences in early British art. The king was active in

craft work himself, for Asser tells us that he "continued, during

his frequent wars, to teach his workers in gold and artificers of

all kinds."

The quaint old encyclopædia of Bartholomew Anglicus, called, "The

Properties of Things," defines gold and silver in an original way,

according to the beliefs of this writer's day. He says of gold,

that "in the composition there is more sadness of brimstone than

of air and moisture of quicksilver, and therefore gold is more

sad and heavy than silver." Of silver he remarks, "Though silver

be white yet it maketh black lines and strakes in the body that

is scored therewith."

Marco Polo says that in the province of Carazan "the rivers yield

great quantities of washed gold, and also that which is solid, and

on the mountains they find gold in the vein, and they give one

pound of gold for six of silver."

Workers in gold or silver usually employ one of two methods--casting

or beating, combined with delicacy of finish, chasing, and polishing.

The technical processes are interestingly described by the writers

of the old treatises on divers arts. In the earliest of these, by

the monk Theophilus, in the eleventh century, we have most graphic

accounts of processes very similar to those now in use. The naïve

monastic instructor, in his preface, exhorts his followers to honesty

and zeal in their good works. "Skilful in the arts let no one glorify

himself," say Theophilus, "as if received from himself, and not from

elsewhere; but let him be thankful humbly in the Lord, from whom all

things are received." He then advises the craftsman earnestly to

study the book which follows, telling him of the riches of instruction

therein to be found; "you will there find out whatever... Tuscany

knows of mosaic work, or in variety of enamels, whatever Arabia

shows forth in work of fusion, ductility or chasing, whatever Italy

ornaments with gold... whatever France loves in a costly variety

of windows; whatever industrious Germany approves in work of gold,

silver or copper, and iron, of woods and of stones." No wonder the

authorities are lost in conjecture as to the native place of the

versatile Theophilus! After promising all these delightful things,

the good old monk continues, "Act therefore, well intentioned man,...

hasten to complete with all the study of thy mind, those things which

are still wanting among the utensils of the House of the Lord," and

he enumerates the various pieces of church plate in use in the Middle

Ages.

Directions are given by Theophilus for the workroom, the benches

at which the smiths are to sit, and also the most minute technical

recipes for "instruments for sculping," for scraping, filing, and

so forth, until the workshop should be fitted with all necessary

tools. In those days, artists began at the very beginning. There were

no "Windsor and Newtons," no nice makers of dividers and T-squares,

to whom one could apply; all implements must be constructed by the

man who contemplated using them.

We will see how Theophilus proceeds, after he has his tools in

readiness, to construct a chalice. First, he puts the silver in a

crucible, and when it has become fluid, he turns it into a mould

in which there is wax (this is evidently the "cire perdu" process

familiar to casters of every age), and then he says, "If by some

negligence it should happen that the melted silver be not whole,

cast it again until it is whole." This process of casting would

apply equally to all metals.

Theophilus instructs his craftsman how to make the

handles of the chalice as follows: "Take wax, form handles with

it, and grave upon them dragons or animals or birds, or leaves--in

whatever manner you may wish. But on the top of each handle place a

little wax, round like a slender candle, half a finger in length,...

this wax is called the funnel.... Then take some clay and cover

carefully the handle, so that the hollows of the sculpture may

be filled up.... Afterwards place these moulds near the coals,

that when they have become warm you may pour out the wax. Which

being turned out, melt the silver,... and cast into the same place

whence you poured out the wax. And when they have become cold remove

the clay." The solid silver handles are found inside, one hardly

need say.

In casting in the "cire perdu" process, Benvenuto Cellini warns

you to beware lest you break your crucible--"just as you've got

your silver nicely molten," he says, "and are pouring it into the

mould, crack goes your crucible, and all your work and time and

pains are lost!" He advises wrapping it in stout cloths.

The process of repoussé work is also much the same to-day as it

has always been. The metal is mounted on cement and the design

partly beaten in from the outside; then the cement is melted out,

and the design treated in more detail from the inside. Theophilus

tells us how to prepare a silver vessel to be beaten with a design.

After giving a recipe for a sort of pitch, he says, "Melt this

composition and fill the vial to the top. And when it has become

cold, portray... whatever you wish, and taking a slender ductile

instrument, and a small hammer, design that which you have portrayed

around it by striking lightly." This process is practically, on a

larger scale, what Cellini describes as that of "minuterie." Cellini

praises Caradosso beyond all others in this work, saying "it was just

in this very getting of the gold so equal all over, that I never knew

a man to beat Caradosso!" He tells how important this equality of

surface is, for if, in the working, the gold became thicker in one

place than in another, it was impossible to attain a perfect finish.

Caradosso made first a wax model of the object which he was to

make; this he cast in copper, and on that he laid his thin gold,

beating and modelling it to the form, until the small hollow bas-relief

was complete. The work was done with wooden and steel tools of

small proportions, sometimes pressed from the back and sometimes

from the front; "ever so much care is necessary," writes Cellini,

"...to prevent the gold from splitting." After the model was brought

to such a point of relief as was suitable for the design, great

care had to be exercised in extending the gold further, to fit

behind heads and arms in special relief. In those days the whole

film of gold was then put in the furnace, and fired until the gold

began to liquefy, at which exact moment it was necessary to remove

it. Cellini himself made a medal for Girolamo Maretta, representing

Hercules and the Lion; the figures were in such high relief that

they only touched the ground at a few points. Cellini reports with

pride that Michelangelo said to him: "If this work were made in

great, whether in marble or in bronze, and fashioned with as

exquisite a design as this, it would astonish the world; and

even in its present size it seems to me so beautiful that I

do not think even a goldsmith of the ancient world fashioned aught

to come up to it!" Cellini says that these words "stiffened him

up," and gave him much increased ambition. He describes also an

Atlas which he constructed of wrought gold, to be placed upon a

lapis lazuli background: this he made in extreme relief, using

tiny tools, "working right into the arms and legs, and making all

alike of equal thickness." A cope-button for Pope Clement was also

quite a _tour de force_; as he said, "these pieces of work are often

harder the smaller they are." The design showed the Almighty seated

on a great diamond; around him there were "a number of jolly little

angels," some in complete relief. He describes how he began with a

flat sheet of gold, and worked constantly and conscientiously,

gradually bossing it up, until, with one tool and then another, he

finally mastered the material, "till one fine day God the Father

stood forth in the round, most comely to behold." So skilful was

Cellini in this art that he "bossed up in high relief with his

punches some fifteen little angels, without even having to solder

the tiniest rent!" The fastening of the clasp was decorated with

"little snails and masks and other pleasing trifles," which suggest

to us that Benvenuto was a true son of the Renaissance, and that his

design did not equal his ability as a craftsman.

Cellini's method of forming a silver vase was on this wise. The

original plate of silver had to be red hot, "not too red, for then

it would crack,--but sufficient to burn certain little grains thrown

on to it." It was then adjusted to the stake, and struck with the

hammer, towards the centre, until by degrees it began to take convex

form. Then, keeping the central point always in view by means of

compasses, from that point he struck "a series of concentric circles

about half a finger apart from each other," and with a hammer,

beginning at the centre, struck so that the "movement of the hammer

shall be in the form of a spiral, and follow the concentric circles."

It was important to keep the form very even all round. Then the

vase had to be hammered from within, "till it was equally bellied

all round," and after that, the neck was formed by the same method.

Then, to ornament the vase, it was filled with pitch, and the design

traced on the outside. When it was necessary to beat up the ornament

from within, the vase was cleared out, and inverted upon the point

of a long "snarling-iron," fastened in an anvil stock, and beaten

so that the point should indent from within. The vase would often

have to be filled with pitch and emptied in this manner several

times in the course of its construction.

Benvenuto Cellini was one of the greatest art personalities of all

time. The quaintness of the æsthetic temperament is nowhere found

better epitomized than in his life and writings. But as a producer of

artistic things, he is a great disappointment. Too versatile to be a

supreme specialist, he is far more interesting as a man and craftsman

than as a designer. Technical skill he had in unique abundance. And

another faculty, for which he does not always receive due credit, is

his gift for imparting his knowledge. His Treatises, containing

valuable information as to methods of work, are less familiar to most

readers than his fascinating biography. These Treatises, or directions

to craftsmen, are full of the spice and charm which characterize his

other work. One cannot proceed from a consideration of the bolder

metal work to a study of the dainty art of the goldsmith without a

glance at Benvenuto Cellini.

The introduction to the Treatises has a naïve opening: "What first

prompted me to write was the knowledge of how fond people are of

hearing anything new." This, and other reasons, induced him to

"write about those loveliest secrets and wondrous methods of the

great art of goldsmithing."

Francis I. indeed thought highly of Cellini. Upon viewing one of his

works, his Majesty raised his hands, and exclaimed to the Mareschal

de France, "I command you to give the first good fat abbey that

falls vacant to our Benvenuto, for I do not want my kingdom to

be deprived of his like."

Benvenuto describes the process of making filigree work, the principle

of which is, fine wire coiled flat so as to form designs with an

interesting and varied surface. Filigree is quite common still, and

any one who has walked down the steep street of the Goldsmiths in

Genoa is familiar with most of its modern forms. Cellini says: "Though

many have practised the art without making drawings first, because the

material in which they worked was so easily handled and so pliable,

yet those who made their drawings first did the best work. Now give

ear to the way the art is pursued." He then directs that the craftsman

shall have ready three sizes of wire, and some little gold granules,

which are made by cutting the short lengths of wire, and then subjecting

them to fervent heat until they become as little round beads. He

then explains how the artificer must twist and mould the delicate

wires, and tastily apply the little granules, so as to make a graceful

design, usually of some floriate form. When the wire flowers and

leaves were formed satisfactorily, a wash of gum tragacanth should

be applied, to hold them in place until the final soldering. The

solder was in powdered form, and it was to be dusted on "just as

much as may suffice,... and not more,"... this amount of solder

could only be determined by the experience of the artist. Then came

the firing of the finished work in the little furnace; Benvenuto is

here quite at a loss how to explain himself: "Too much heat would

move the wires you have woven out of place," he says, "really it is

quite impossible to tell it properly in writing; I could explain it

all right by word of mouth, or better still, show you how it is

done,--still, come along,--we'll try to go on as we started!"

Sometimes embossing was done by thin sheets of metal being pressed

on to a wooden carving prepared for the purpose, so that the result

would be a raised silver pattern, which, when filled up with pitch

or lead, would pass for a sample of repoussé work. I need hardly

say that a still simpler mechanical form of pressing obtains on

cheap silver to-day.

So much for the mechanical processes of treating these metals. We

will now examine some of the great historic examples, and glance

at the lives of prominent workers in gold and silver in the past.

One of the most brilliant times for the production of works of art

in gold and silver, was when Constantine, upon becoming Christian,

moved the seat of government to Byzantium. Byzantine ornament lends

itself especially to such work. The distinguishing mark between

the earlier Greek jewellers and the Byzantine was, that the former

considered chiefly line, form, and delicacy of workmanship, while

the latter were led to expression through colour and texture, and

not fineness of finish.

The Byzantine emperors loved gold in a lavish way, and on a superb

scale. They were not content with chaste rings and necklets, or

even with golden crowns. The royal thrones were of gold; their

armour was decorated with the precious metal, and their chariots

enriched in the same way. Even the houses of the rich people

were more endowed with precious furnishings than most of the churches

of other nations, and every family possessed a massive silver table,

and solid vases and plate.

The Emperor Theophilus, who lived in the ninth century, was a great

lover of the arts. His palace was built after the Arabian style,

and he had skilful mechanical experts to construct a golden tree

over his throne, on the branches of which were numerous birds,

and two golden lions at the foot. These birds were so arranged

by clockwork, that they could be made to sing, and the lions also

joined a roar to the chorus!

A great designer of the Middle Ages was Alcuin, the teacher of

Charlemagne, who lived from 735 to 804; he superintended the building

of many fine specimens of church plate. The school of Alcuin, however,

was more famous for illumination, and we shall speak of his work

at more length when we come to deal with that subject.

Another distinguished patron of art was the Abbot Odo of Cluny,

who had originally been destined for a soldier; but he was visited

with what Maitland describes as "an inveterate headache, which, from

his seventeenth to his nineteenth year, defied all medical skill,"

so he and his parents, convinced that this was a manifestation of

the disapproval of Heaven, decided to devote his life to religious

pursuits. He became Abbot of Cluny in the year 927.

[Illustration: CROWN OF CHARLEMAGNE]

Examples of ninth century goldsmithing are rare. Judging from the

few specimens existing, the crown of Charlemagne, and the beautiful

binding of the Hours of Charles the Bold, one would be inclined to

think that an almost barbaric wealth of closely set jewels was the

entire standard of the art of the time, and that grace of form or

contour was quite secondary. The tomb was rifled about the twelfth

century, and many of the valuable things with which he was surrounded

were taken away. The throne was denuded of its gold, and may be seen

to-day in the Cathedral at Aachen, a simple marble chair plain and

dignified, with the copper joints showing its construction. Many of

the relics of Charlemagne are in the treasury at Aachen, among other

interesting items, the bones of the right arm of the Emperor in a

golden shrine in the form of a hand and arm. There is a thrill in

contemplating the remains of the right arm of Charlemagne after all

the centuries, when one remembers the swords and sceptres which have

been wielded by that mighty member. The reliquary containing the

right arm of Charlemagne is German work (of course later than the

opening of the tomb), probably between 1155 and 1190. Frederic

Barbarossa and his ancestors are represented on its ornamentation.

There is little goldsmith's work of the Norman period in Great

Britain, for that was a time of the building of large structures,

and probably minor arts and personal adornment took a secondary

place.

[Illustration: BERNWARD'S CROSS AND CANDLESTICKS, HILDESHEIM]

Perhaps the most satisfactory display of mediæval arts and crafts

which may be seen in one city is at Hildesheim: the special richness

of remains of the tenth century is owing to the life and example

of an early bishop--Bernward--who ruled the See from 993 to 1022.

Before he was made bishop, Bernward was tutor to the young Emperor

Otto III. He was a student of art all his life, and a practical

craftsman, working largely in metals, and training up a Guild of

followers in the Cathedral School. He was extremely versatile: one

of the great geniuses of history. In times of war he was Commander

in Chief of Hildesheim; he was a traveller, having made pilgrimages

to Rome and Paris, and the grave of St. Martin at Tours. This wide

culture was unusual in those days; it is quite evident from his

active life of accomplishment in creative art, that good Bishop

Bernward was not to be numbered among those who expected the end of

the world to occur in the year 1000 A. D. Of his works to be seen

in Hildesheim, there are splendid examples. The Goldsmith's School

under his direction was famous.

He was created bishop in 992; Taugmar pays him a tribute, saying:

"He was an excellent penman, a good painter, and as a household

manager was unequalled." Moreover, he "excelled in the mechanical

no less than in the liberal arts." In fact, a visit to Hildesheim

to-day proves that to this man who lived ten centuries ago is due

the fact that Hildesheim is the most artistic city in Germany from

the antiquarian's point of view. This bishop influenced every branch

of art, and with so vital an influence, that his See city is still

full of his works and personality. He was not only a practical

worker in the arts and crafts, but he was also a collector, forming

quite a museum for the further instruction of the students who came

in touch with him. He decorated the walls of his cathedral; the great

candelabrum, or corona, which circles above the central aisle of the

cathedral, was his own design, and the work of his followers; and

the paschal column in the cathedral was from his workshop, wrought

as delightfully as would be possible in any age, and yet executed

nearly a thousand years ago. No bishop ever deserved sainthood

more, or made a more practical contribution to the Church. Pope

Celestine III. canonized him in 1194.

Bernward came of a noble family. His figure may be seen--as near

an approach to a portrait of this great worker as we have--among

the bas-reliefs on the beautiful choir-screen in St. Michael's

Church in Hildesheim.

[Illustration: BERNWARD'S CHALICE, HILDESHEIM]

The cross executed by Bernward's own hands in 994 is a superb work,

with filigree covering the whole, and set with gems _en cabochon_,

with pearls, and antique precious stones, carved with Greek divinities

in intaglio. The candlesticks of St. Bernward, too, are most

interesting. They are made of a metal composed of gold, silver,

and iron, and are wrought magnificently, into a mass of animal

and floriate forms, their outline being well retained, and the

grace of the shaft and proportions being striking. They are partly

the work of the mallet and partly of the chisel. They had been

buried with Bernward, and were found in his sarcophagus in 1194.

Didron has likened them, in their use of animal form, to the art

of the Mexicans; but to me they seem more like delightful German

Romanesque workmanship, leaning more towards that of certain spirited

Lombard grotesques, or even that of Arles and certain parts of

France, than to the Aztec to which Didron has reference. The little

climbing figures, while they certainly have very large hands and

feet, yet are endowed with a certain sprightly action; they all

give the impression of really making an effort,--they are trying

to climb, instead of simply occupying places in the foliage. There

is a good deal of strength and energy displayed in all of them,

and, while the work is rude and rough, it is virile. It is not

unlike the workmanship on the Gloucester candlestick in the South

Kensington Museum, which was made in the twelfth century.

Bernward's chalice is set with antique stones, some of them carved.

On the foot may be seen one representing the three Graces, in their

customary state of nudity "without malice."

Bernward was also an architect. He built the delightful church of

St. Michael, and its cloister. He also superintended the building

of an important wall by the river bank in the lower town.

When there was an uneasy time of controversy at Gandesheim, Bernward

hastened to headquarters in Rome, to arrange to bring about better

feeling. In 1001 he arrived, early in January, and the Pope went

out to meet him, kissed him, and invited him to stay as a guest

at his palace. After accomplishing his diplomatic mission, and

laden with all sorts of sacred relics, Bernward returned home, not

too directly to prevent his seeing something of the intervening

country.

A book which Bishop Bernward had made and illuminated in 1011 has the

inscription: "I, Bernward, had this codex written out, at my own cost,

and gave it to the beloved Saint of God, Michael. Anathema to him who

alienates it." This inscription has the more interest for being the

actual autograph of Bernward.

He was succeeded by Hezilo, and many other pupils. These men made

the beautiful corona of the cathedral, of which I give an illustration

in detail. Great coronas or circular chandeliers hung in the naves

of many cathedrals in the Middle Ages. The finest specimen is this

at Hildesheim, the magnificent ring of which is twenty feet across,

as it hangs suspended by a system of rods and balls in the form

of chains. It has twelve large towers and twelve small ones set

around it, supposed to suggest the Heavenly Jerusalem with its many

mansions. There are sockets for seventy-two candles. The detail

of its adornment is very splendid, and repays close study. Every

little turret is different in architectonic form, and statues of

saints are to be seen standing within these. The pierced silver

work on this chandelier is as beautiful as any mediæval example

in existence.

[Illustration: CORONA AT HILDESHEIM (DETAIL)]

The great leader of mediæval arts in France was the Abbot Suger

of St. Denis. Suger was born in 1081, he and his brother, Alvise,

who was Bishop of Arras, both being destined for the Episcopate.

As a youth he passed ten years at St. Denis as a scholar. Here he

became intimate with Prince Louis, and this friendship developed

in after life. On returning from a voyage to Italy, in 1122,

he learned at the same time of the death of his spiritual father,

Abbot Adam, and of his own election to be his successor. He

thus stood at the head of the convent of St. Denis in 1123.

This was due to his noble character, his genius for diplomacy

and his artistic talent. He was minister to Louis VI., and afterwards

to Louis VII., and during the second Crusade, he was made Regent

for the kingdom. Suger was known, after this, as the Father of his

Country, for he was a courageous counsellor, firm and convincing

in argument, so that the king had really been guided by his advice.

While he was making laws and instigating crusades, he was also

directing craft shops and propagating the arts in connection with

the life of the Church. St. Bernard denounced him, as encouraging

too luxurious a ritual; Suger made a characteristic reply: "If

the ancient law... ordained that vessels and cups of gold should

be used for libations, and to receive the blood of rams,... how

much rather should we devote gold, precious stones, and the rarest

of materials, to those vessels which are destined to contain the

blood of Our Lord."

Suger ordered and himself made most beautiful appointments for the

sanctuary, and when any vessel already owned by the Abbey was of

costly material, and yet unsuitable in style, he had it remodelled.

An interesting instance of this is a certain antique vase of red

porphyry. There was nothing ecclesiastical about this vase; it was

a plain straight Greek jar, with two handles at the sides. Suger

treated it as the body of an eagle, making the head and neck to

surmount it, and the claw feet for it to stand on, together with

its soaring wings, of solid gold, and it thus became transformed

into a magnificent reliquary in the form of the king of birds. The

inscription on this Ampula of Suger is: "As it is our duty to present

unto God oblations of gems and gold, I, Suger, offer this vase unto

the Lord."

Suger stood always for the ideal in art and character. He had the

courage of his convictions in spite of the fulminations of St.

Bernard. Instead of using the enormous sums of money at his disposal

for importing Byzantine workmen, he preferred to use his funds

and his own influence in developing a native French school of

artificers.

It is interesting to discover that Suger, among his many adaptations

and restorations at St. Denis, incorporated some of the works of

St. Eloi into his own compositions. For instance, he took an ivory

pulpit, and remodelled it with the addition of copper animals.

Abbots of St. Denis made beautiful offerings to the church. One of

them, Abbot Matthiew de Vendôme, presented a wonderful reliquary,

consisting of a golden head and bust, while another gave a reliquary

to contain the jaw of St. Louis. Suger presented many fine products

of his own art and that of his pupils, among others a great cross

six feet in height. A story is told of him, that, while engaged in

making a particularly splendid crucifix for St. Denis, he ran short

of precious stones, nor could he in any way obtain what he required,

until some monks came to him and offered to sell him a superb lot of

stones which had formerly embellished the dinner service of Henry

I. of England, whose nephew had given them to the convent in exchange

for indulgences and masses! In these early and half-barbaric days of

magnificence, form and delicacy of execution were not understood.

Brilliancy and lavish display of sparkling jewels, set as thickly

as possible without reference to a general scheme of composition,

was the standard of beauty; and it must be admitted that, with

such stones available, no more effective school of work has ever

existed than that of which such works Charlemagne's crown, the

Iron Crown of Monza, and the crown of King Suinthila, are typical

examples. Abbot Suger lamented when he lacked a sufficient supply

of stones; but he did not complain when there occurred a deficiency

in workmen. It was comparatively easy to train artists who could

make settings and bind stones together with soldered straps!

In 1352 a royal silversmith of France, Etienne La Fontaine, made

a "fauteuil of silver and crystal decorated with precious stones,"

for the king.

The golden altar of Basle is almost as interesting as the great

Pala d'Oro in Venice, of which mention is made elsewhere. It was

ordered by Emperor Henry the Pious, before 1024, and presented to

the Prime Minister at Basle. The central figure of the Saviour

has at its feet two tiny figures, quite out of scale; these are

intended for the donors, Emperor Henry and his queen, Cunegunda.

Silversmith's work in Spain was largely in Byzantine style, while

some specimens of Gothic and Roman are also to be seen there. Moorish

influence is noticeable, as in all Spanish design, and filigree work

of Oriental origin is frequently to be met with. Some specimens of

champlevé enamel are also to be seen, though this art was generally

confined to Limoges during the Middle Ages. A Guild was formed in

Toledo which was in flourishing condition in 1423.

An interesting document has been found in Spain showing that craftsmen

were supplied with the necessary materials when engaged to make

valuable figures for the decoration of altars. It is dated May 12,

1367, "I, Sancho Martinez Orebsc, silversmith, native of Seville,

inform you, the Dean and Chapter of the church of Seville, that it

was agreed that I make an image of St. Mary with its tabernacle,

that it should be finished at a given time, and that you were to

give me the silver and stones required to make it."

In Spain, the most splendid triumphs of the goldsmith's skill were

the "custodias," or large tabernacles, in which the Host was carried

in procession. The finest was one made for Toledo by Enrique d'Arphe,

in competition with other craftsmen. His design being chosen, he

began his work in 1517, and in 1524 the custodia was finished. It

was in the form of a Gothic temple, six sided, with a jewelled

cross on the top, and was eight feet high. Some of the gold employed

was the first ever brought from America. The whole structure weighed

three hundred and eighty-eight pounds. Arphe made a similar custodia

for Cordova and another for Leon. His grandson, Juan d'Arphe, wrote

a verse about the Toledo custodia, in which these lines occur:

"Custodia is a temple of rich plate

Wrought for the glory of Our Saviour true...

That holiest ark of old to imitate,

Fashioned by Bezaleel the cunning Jew,

Chosen of God to work his sovereign will,

And greatly gifted with celestial skill."

Juan d'Arphe himself made a custodia for Seville, the decorations

and figures on which were directed by the learned Francesco Pacheco,

the father-in-law of Velasquez. When this custodia was completed,

d'Arphe wrote a description of it, alluding boldly to this work

as "the largest and finest work in silver known of its kind," and

this could really be said without conceit, for it is a fact.

A Gothic form of goldsmith's work obtained in Spain in the 13th,

14th and 15th centuries; it was based upon architectural models and

was known as "plateresca." The shrines for holding relics became

in these centuries positive buildings on a small scale in precious

material. In England also were many of these shrines, but few of

them now remain.

The first Mayor of London, from 1189 to 1213, was a goldsmith,

Henry Fitz Alwyn, the Founder of the Royal Exchange; Sir Thomas

Gresham, in 1520, was also a goldsmith and a banker. There is an

entertaining piece of cynical satire on the Goldsmiths in Stubbes'

Anatomy of Abuses, written in the time of Queen Elizabeth, showing

that the tricks of the trade had come to full development by that

time, and that the public was being aroused on the subject. Stubbes

explains how the goldsmith's shops are decked with chains and rings,

"wonderful richly." Then he goes on to say: "They will make you any

monster or article whatsoever of gold, silver, or what you will. Is

there no deceit in these goodlye shows? Yes, too many; if you will

buy a chain of gold, a ring, or any kind of plate, besides that you

shall pay almost half more than it is worth... you shall also perhaps

have that gold which is naught, or else at least mixed with drossie

rubbage.... But this happeneth very seldom by reason of good orders,

and constitutions made for the punishment of them that offend in

this kind of deceit, and therefore they seldom offend therein,

though now and then they chance to stumble in the dark!"

Fynes Moryson, a traveller who died in 1614, says that "the goldsmiths'

shops in London... are exceedingly richly furnished continually

with gold, with silver plate, and with jewels.... I never see any

such daily show, anything so sumptuous, in any place in the world,

as in London." He admits that in Florence and Paris the similar

shops are very rich upon special occasions; but it is the steady

state of the market in London to which he has reference.

The Company of Goldsmiths in Dublin held quite a prominent social

position in the community. In 1649, a great festival and pageant

took place, in which the goldsmiths and visiting craftsmen from

other corporations took part.

Henry III. set himself to enrich and beautify the shrine of his

patron saint, Edward the Confessor, and with this end in view he

made various extravagant demands: for instance, at one time he

ordered all the gold in London to be detailed to this object, and

at another, he had gold rings and brooches purchased to the value

of six hundred marks. The shrine was of gold, and, according to

Matthew Paris, enriched with jewels. It was commenced in 1241.

In 1244 the queen presented an image of the Virgin with a ruby

and an emerald. Jewels were purchased from time to time,--a great

cameo in 1251, and in 1255 many gems of great value. The son of

ado the Goldsmith, Edward, was the "king's beloved clerk," and was

made "keeper of the shrine." Most of the little statuettes were

described as having stones set somewhere about them: "an image of

St. Peter holding a church in one hand and the keys in the other,

trampling on Nero, who had a big sapphire on his breast;" and "the

Blessed Virgin with her Son, set with rubies, sapphires, emeralds,

and garnets," are among those cited. The whole shrine was described

as "a basilica adorned with purest gold and precious stones."

Odo the Goldsmith was in charge of the works for a good while. He

was succeeded by his son Edward. Payments were made sometimes in a

regular wage, and sometimes for "task work." The workmen were usually

known by one name--Master Alexander the King's Carpenter, Master Henry

the King's Master Mason, and so forth. In an early life of Edward the

Confessor, there is an illumination showing the masons and carpenters

kneeling to receive instruction from their sovereign.

The golden shrine of the Confessor was probably made in the Palace

itself; this was doubtless considered the safest place for so valuable

a work to remain in process of construction; for there is an allusion

to its being brought on the King's own shoulders (with the assistance

of others), from the palace to the Abbey, in 1269, for its consecration.

In 1243 Henry III. ordered four silver basins, fitted with cakes

of wax with wicks in them, to be placed as lights before the shrine

of Thomas à Becket in Canterbury. The great gold shrine of Becket

appears to have been chiefly the work of a goldsmith, Master Adam.

He also designed the Coronation Chair of England, which is now

in Westminster Abbey.

The chief goldsmith of England employed by Edward I. was one Adam

of Shoreditch. He was versatile, for he was also a binder of books.

A certain bill shows an item of his workmanship, "a group in silver

of a child riding upon a horse, the child being a likeness of Lord

Edward, the King's son."

A veritable Arts and Crafts establishment had been in existence

in Woolstrope, Lincolnshire, before Cromwell's time; for Georde

Gifford wrote to Cromwell regarding the suppression of this monastery:

"There is not one religious person there but what doth use either

embrothering, wryting books with a faire hand, making garments,

or carving."

In all countries the chalices and patens were usually, designed

to correspond with each other. The six lobed dish was a very usual

form; it had a depressed centre, with six indented scallops, and

the edge flat like a dinner plate. In an old church inventory,

mention is made of "a chalice with _his_ paten." Sometimes there was

lettering around the flat edge of the paten. Chalices were-composed

of three parts: the cup, the ball or knop, and the stem, with the

foot. The original purpose of having this foot hexagonal in shape

is said to have been to prevent the chalice from rolling when it

was laid on its side to drain. Under many modifications this general

plan of the cup has obtained. The bowl is usually entirely plain,

to facilitate keeping it clean; most of the decoration was lavished

on the knop, a rich and uneven surface being both beautiful and

functional in this place.

Such Norman and Romanesque chalices as remain are chiefly in museums

now. They were usually "coffin chalices"--that is, they had been

buried in the coffin of some ecclesiastic. Of Gothic chalices, or

those of the Tudor period, fewer remain, for after the Reformation,

a general order went out to the churches, for all "chalices to be

altered to decent Communion cups." The shape was greatly modified

in this change.

In the thirteenth century the taste ran rather to a chaster form

of decoration; the large cabochons of the Romanesque, combined

with a liquid gold surface, gave place to refined ornaments in

niello and delicate enamels. The bowls of the earlier chalices

were rather flat and broad. When it became usual for the laity to

partake only of one element when communicating, the chalice, which

was reserved for the clergy alone, became modified to meet this

condition, and the bowl was much smaller. After the Reformation,

however, the development was quite in the other direction, the bowl

being extremely large and deep. In that period they were known

as communion cups. In Sandwich there is a cup which was made over

out of a ciborium; as it quite plainly shows its origin, it is

naïvely inscribed: "This is a Communion Coop." When this change in

the form of the chalice took place, it was provided, by admonition

of the Archbishop, in all cases with a "cover of silver... which

shall serve also for the ministration of the Communion bread." To

make this double use of cover and dish satisfactory, a foot like

a stand was added to the paten.

The communion cup of the Reformation differed from the chalice,

too, in being taller and straighter, with a deep bowl, almost in

the proportions of a flaring tumbler, and a stem with a few close

decorations instead of a knop. The small paten served as a cover

to the cup, as has been mentioned.

It is not always easy to see old church plate where it originally

belonged. On the Scottish border, for instance, there were constant

raids, when the Scots would descend upon the English parish churches,

and bear off the communion plate, and again the English would cross

the border and return the compliment. In old churches, such as the

eleventh century structure at Torpenhow, in Cumberland, the deep

sockets still to be seen in the stone door jambs were intended

to support great beams with which the church had constantly to

be fortified against Scottish invasion. Another reason for the

disappearance of church plate, was the occasional sale of the silver

in order to continue necessary repairs on the fabric. In a church

in Norfolk, there is a record of sale of communion silver and "for

altering of our church and fynnishing of the same according to our

mindes and the parishioners." It goes on to state that the proceeds

were appropriated for putting new glass in the place of certain windows

"wherein were conteined the lives of certain prophane histories,"

and for "paving the king's highway" in the church precincts. At the

time of the Reformation many valuable examples of Church plate were

cast aside by order of the Commissioners, by which "all monuments

of feyned miracles, pilgrimages, idolatry, and superstition," were

to be destroyed. At this time a calf or a sheep might have been seen

browsing in the meadows with a sacring-bell fastened at its neck,

and the pigs refreshed themselves with drinking from holy-water

fonts!

Croziers of ornate design especially roused the ire of the Puritans.

In Mr. Alfred Maskell's incomparable book on Ivories, he translates

a satirical verse by Guy de Coquille, concerning these objectionable

pastoral staves (which were often made of finely sculptured ivory).

"The staff of a bishop of days that are old

Was of wood, and the bishop himself was of gold.

But a bishop of wood prefers gorgeous array,

So his staff is of gold in the new fashioned way!"

During the Renaissance especially, goldsmith's work was carried

to great technical perfection, and yet the natural properties of

the metal were frequently lost sight of, and the craftsmen tried

to produce effects such as would be more suitable in stone or

wood,--little architectonic features were introduced, and gold

was frequently made to do the work of other materials. Thus it

lost much of its inherent effectiveness. Too much attention was

given to ingenuity, and not enough to fitness and beauty.

[Illustration: RELIQUARY AT ORVIETO]

In documents of the fourteenth century, the following list of goldsmiths

is given: Jean de Mantreux was goldsmith to King Jean. Claux de

Friburg was celebrated for a gold statuette of St. John which he

made for the Duke of Normandy. A diadem for this Duke was also

recorded, made by Jean de Piguigny. Hannequin made three golden crowns

for Charles V. Hans Crest was goldsmith to the Duke of Orleans, while

others employed by him were Durosne, of Toulouse, Jean de Bethancourt,

a Flemish goldsmith. In the fifteenth century the names of Jean de

Hasquin, Perrin Manne, and Margerie d'Avignon, were famous.

Artists in the Renaissance were expected to undertake several branches

of their craft. Hear Poussin: "It is impossible to work at the

same time upon frontispieces of books: a Virgin: at the picture

for the congregation of St. Louis, at the designs for the gallery,

and for the king's tapestry! I have only a feeble head, and am

not aided by anyone!"

A goldsmith attached to the Court of King René of Anjou was Jean

Nicolas. René also gave many orders to one Liguier Rabotin, of

Avignon, who made him several cups of solid gold, on a large tray

of the same precious metal. The king often drew his own designs

or such bijoux.

Among the famous men of Italy were several who practised the art of

the goldsmith. Ugolino of Siena constructed the wonderful reliquary

at Orvieto; this, is in shape somewhat similar to the façade of

the cathedral.

Verocchio, the instructor of Leonardo da Vinci, accomplished several

important pieces of jewelery in his youth: cope-buttons and silver

statuettes, chiefly, which were so successful that he determined to

take up the career of a sculptor. Ghirlandajo, as is well known,

was trained as a goldsmith originally, his father having been the

inventor of a pretty fashion then prevailing among young girls of

Florence, and being the maker of those golden garlands worn on

the heads of maidens. The name Ghirlandajo, indeed, was derived

from these garlands (ghirlandes).

Francia began life as a goldsmith, too, and was never in after life

ashamed of his profession, for he often signed his works Francesco

Francia Aurifex. Francia was a very skilful workman in niello,

and in enamels. In fact, to quote the enthusiastic Vasari, "he

executed everything that is most beautiful, and which can be performed

in that art more perfectly than any other master had ever done."

Baccio Baldini, also, was a goldsmith, although a greater portion

of his ability was turned in the direction of engraving. His pupil

Maso Finniguerra, who turned also to engraving, began his career

as a goldsmith.

The great silver altar in the Baptistery in Florence occupied nearly

all the goldsmiths in that city. In 1330 the father of the Orcagnas,

Cione, died; he had worked for some years before that on the altar.

In 1366 the altar was destroyed, but the parts in bas-relief by

Cione were retained and incorporated into the new work, which was

finished in 1478. Ghiberti, Orcagna, Verocchio, and Pollajuolo,

all executed various details of this magnificent monument.

Goldsmiths did not quite change their standing and characteristics

until late in the sixteenth century. About that time it may be said

that the last goldsmith of the old school was Claude Ballin, while

the first jeweller, in the modern acceptation of the word, was Pierre

de Montarsy.

Silver has always been selected for the better household utensils,

not only on account of its beauty, but also because of its ductility,

which is desirable in making larger vessels; its value, too, is

less than that of gold, so that articles which would be quite out

of the reach of most householders, if made in gold, become very

available in silver. Silver is particularly adapted to daily use,

for the necessary washing and polishing which it receives keeps

it in good condition, and there is no danger from poison through

corrosion, as with copper and brass.

In the middle ages the customary pieces of plate in English homes

were basins, bottles, bowls, candlesticks, saucepans, jugs, dishes,

ewers and flagons, and chafing-dishes for warming the hands, which

were undoubtedly needed, when we remember how intense the cold

must have been in those high, bare, ill-ventilated halls! There

were also large cups called hanaps, smaller cups, plates, and

porringers, salt-cellars, spoons, and salvers. Forks were of much

later date.

There are records of several silver basins in the Register of John

of Gaunt, and also in the Inventory of Lord Lisle: one being "a

basin and ewer with arms" and another, "a shaving basin." John of

Gaunt also owned "a silver bowl for the kitchen." If the mediæval

household lacked comforts, it could teach us lessons in luxury

in some other departments! He also had a "pair of silver bottles,

partly gilt, and enamelled, garnished with tissues of silk, white

and blue," and a "casting bottle" for distributing perfume: Silver

candelabra were recorded; these, of course, must have been in constant

service, as the facilities for lighting were largely dependent upon

them. When the Crown was once obliged to ask a loan from the Earl

of Salisbury, in 1432, the Earl received, as earnest of payment,

"two golden candelabra, garnished with pearls and precious stones."

In the Close Roll of Henry III. of England, there is found an

interesting order to a goldsmith: "Edward, son of Eudo, with all

haste, by day and by night, make a cup with a foot for the Queen:

weighing two marks, not more; price twenty marks, against Christmas,

that she may drink from it in that feast: and paint it and enamel it

all over, and in every other way that you can, let it be decently

and beautifully wrought, so that the King, no less than the said

Queen, may be content therewith." All the young princes and princesses

were presented with silver cups, also, as they came to such age as

made the use of them expedient; Lionel and John, sons of Edward

III., were presented with cups "with leather covers for the same,"

when they were one and three years old respectively. In 1423 the

chief justice, Sir William Hankford, gave his great-granddaughter

a baptismal gift of a gilt cup and a diamond ring, together with a

curious testimonial of eight shillings and sixpence to the nurse!

Of dishes, the records are meagre, but there is an amusing entry

among the Lisle papers referring to a couple of "conserve dishes"

for which Lady Lisle expressed a wish. Husee had been ordered to

procure these, but writes, "I can get no conserve dishes... however,

if they be to be had, I will have of them, or it shall cost me hot

water!" A little later he observes, "Towards Christmas day they

shall be made at Bevoys, betwixt Abbeville and Paris."

Flagons were evidently a novelty in 1471, for there is an entry

in the Issue Roll of Edward IV., which mentions "two ollas called

silver flagons for the King." An olla was a Latin term for a jar.

Lord Lisle rejoiced in "a pair of flagons, the gilt sore worn."

Hanaps were more usual, and appear to have been usually in the form

of goblets. They frequently had stands called "tripers." Sometimes

these stands were very ornate, as, for instance, one owned by the

Bishop of Carpentras, "in the shape of a flying dragon, with a

crowned damsel sitting upon a green terrace." Another, belonging

to the Countess of Cambridge, was described as being "in the shape

of a monster, with three buttresses and three bosses of mother of

pearl... and an ewer,... partly enamelled with divers babooneries"--a

delightful expression! Other hanaps were in the forms of swans, oak

trees, white harts, eagles, lions, and the like--probably often

of heraldic significance.

A set of platters was sent from Paris to Richard II., all of gold,

with balas rubies, pearls and sapphires set in them. It is related

of the ancient Frankish king, Chilperic, that he had made a dish of

solid gold, "ornamented all over with precious stones, and weighing

fifty pounds," while Lothaire owned an enormous silver basin bearing

as decoration "the world with the courses of the stars and the

planets."

The porringer was a very important article of table use, for pap,

and soft foods such as we should term cereals, and for boiled pudding.

These were all denominated porridge, and were eaten from these vessels.

Soup was doubtless served in them as well. They were numerous in

every household. In the Roll of Henry III. is an item, mentioning

that he had ordered twenty porringers to be made, "like the one

hundred porringers" which had already been ordered!

An interesting pattern of silver cups in Elizabethan times were

the "trussing cups," namely, two goblets of silver, squat in shape

and broad in bowl, which fitted together at the rim, so that one

was inverted as a sort of cover on top of the other when they were

not in use. Drinking cups were sometimes made out of cocoanuts,

mounted in silver, and often of ostrich eggs, similarly treated,

and less frequently of horns hollowed out and set on feet. Mediæval

loving cups were usually named, and frequently for some estates

that belonged to the owner. Cups have been known to bear such names

as "Spang," "Bealchier," and "Crumpuldud," while others bore the

names of the patron saints of their owners.

A kind of cruet is recorded among early French table silver, "a

double necked bottle in divisions, in which to place two kinds

of liquor without mixing them." A curious bit of table silver in

France, also, was the "almsbox," into which each guest was supposed

to put some piece of food, to be given to the poor.

Spoons were very early in their origin; St. Radegond is reported

by a contemporary to have used a spoon, in feeding the blind and

infirm. A quaint book of instructions to children, called "The

Babee's Booke," in 1475, advises by way of table manners:

"And whenever your potage to you shall be brought,

Take your sponys and soupe by no way,

And in your dish leave not your spoon, I pray!"

And a later volume on the same subject, in 1500, commends a proper

respect for the implements of the table:

"Ne playe with spoone, trencher, ne knife."

Spoons of curious form were evidently made all the way from 1300

to the present day. In an old will, in 1477, mention is made of

spoons "wt leopards hedes printed in the sponself," and in another,

six spoons "wt owles at the end of the handles." Professor Wilson

said, "A plated spoon is a pitiful imposition," and he was right.

If there is one article of table service in which solidity of metal

is of more importance than in another, it is the spoon, which must

perforce come in contact with the lips whenever it is used. In England

the earliest spoons were of about the thirteenth century, and the first

idea of a handle seems to have been a plain shaft ending in a ball or

knob. Gradually spoons began to show more of the decorative instinct

of their designers; acorns, small statuettes, and such devices

terminated the handles, which still retained their slender proportions,

however. Finally it became popular to have images of the Virgin on

individual spoons, which led to the idea, after a bit, of decorating

the dozen with the twelve apostles. These may be seen of all periods,

differently elaborated. Sets of thirteen are occasionally met with,

these having one with the statue of Jesus as the Good Shepherd,

with a lamb on his shoulders: it is known as the "Master spoon."

[Illustration: APOSTLE SPOONS]

The first mention of forks in France is in the Inventory, of Charles

V., in 1379. We hear a great deal about the promiscuous use of

knives before forks were invented; how in the children's book of

instructions they are enjoined "pick not thy teeth with thy knife,"

as if it were a general habit requiring to be checked. Massinger

alludes to a

"silver fork

To convey an olive neatly to thy mouth,"

but this may apply to pickle forks. Forks were introduced from Italy

into England about 1607.

A curiosity in cutlery is the "musical knife" at the Louvre; the

blade is steel, mounted in parcel gilt, and the handle is of ivory.

On the blade is engraved a few bars of music (arranged for the

bass only), accompanying the words, "What we are about to take

may Trinity in Unity bless. Amen." This is a literal translation.

It indicates that there were probably three other knives in the

set so ornamented, one with the soprano, one alto, and one tenor,

so that four persons sitting down to table together might chant

their "grace" in four-part harmony, having the requisite notes

before them! It was a quaint idea, but quite in keeping with the

taste of the sixteenth century.

[Illustration: IVORY KNIFE HANDLES, WITH PORTRAITS OF QUEEN ELIZABETH

AND JAMES I. ENGLIS]

The domestic plate of Louis, Duke of Anjou, in 1360, consisted of

over seven hundred pieces, and Charles V. of France had an enormous

treasury of such objects for daily use. Strong rooms and safes were

built during the fourteenth century, for the lodging of the household

valuables. About this time the Dukes of Burgundy were famous for

their splendid table service. Indeed, the craze for domestic display

in this line became so excessive, that in 1356 King John of France

prohibited the further production of such elaborate pieces, "gold or

silver plate, vases, or silver jewelry, of more than one mark of gold,

or silver, excepting for churches." This edict, however, accomplished

little, and was constantly evaded. Many large pieces of silver made

in the period of the Renaissance were made simply with a view to

standing about as ornaments. Cellini alludes to certain vases which

had been ordered from him, saying that "they are called ewers, and

they are placed upon buffets for the purpose of display."

The salt cellar was always a _piece de resistance_, and stood in

the centre of the table. It was often in the form of a ship in

silver. A book entitled "Ffor to serve a Lorde," in 1500, directs

the "boteler" or "panter," to bring forth the principal salt, and to

"set the saler in the myddys of the table." Persons helped themselves

to salt with "a clene kniffe." The seats of honour were all about

the salt, while those of less degree were at the lower end of the

table, and were designated as "below the salt." The silver ship was

commonly an immense piece of plate, containing the napkin, goblet,

and knife and spoon of the host, besides being the receptacle for

the spices and salt. Through fear of poison, the precaution was

taken of keeping it covered. This ship was often known as the "nef,"

and frequently had a name, as if it were the family yacht! One is

recorded as having been named the "Tyger," while a nef belonging to

the Duke of Orleans was called the "Porquepy," meaning porcupine.

One of the historic salts, in another form, is the "Huntsman's

salt," and is kept at All Soul's College, Oxford. The figure of a

huntsman, bears upon its head a rock crystal box with a lid. About

the feet of this figure are several tiny animals and human beings,

so that it looks as if the intent had been to picture some gigantic

legendary hunter--a sort of Gulliver of the chase.

The table was often furnished also with a fountain, in which

drinking-water was kept, and upon which either stood or hung cups

or goblets. These fountains were often of fantastic shapes, and

usually enamelled. One is described as representing a dragon on

a tree top, and another a castle on a hill, with a convenient tap

at some point for drawing off the water.

The London City Companies are rich in their possessions of valuable

plate. Some of the cups are especially beautiful. The Worshipful

Company of Skinners owns some curious loving cups, emblematic of

the names of the donors. There are five Cockayne Loving Cups, made

in the form of cocks, with their tail feathers spread up to form

the handles. The heads have to be removed for drinking. These cups

were bequeathed by William Cockayne, in 1598. Another cup is in

the form of a peacock, walking with two little chicks of minute

proportions on either side of the parent bird. This is inscribed,

"The gift of Mary the daughter of Richard Robinson, and wife to

Thomas Smith and James Peacock, Skinners." Whether the good lady

were a bigamist or took her husbands in rotation, does not transpire.

An interesting cup is owned by the Vintners in London, called the

Milkmaid. The figure of a milkmaid, in laced bodice, holds above

her head a small cup on pivots, so that it finds its level when

the figure is inverted, as is the case when the cup is used, the

petticoat of the milkmaid forming the real goblet. It is constructed

on the same principle as the German figures of court ladies holding

up cups, which are often seen to-day, made on the old pattern. The

cups in the case of this milkmaid are both filled with wine, and

it is quite difficult to drink from the larger cup without spilling

from the small swinging cup which is then below the other. Every

member is expected to perform this feat as a sort of initiation.

It dates from 1658.

[Illustration: THE "MILKMAID CUP"]

One of the most beautiful Corporation cups is at Norwich, where

it is known as the "Petersen" cup. It is shaped like a very thick

and squat chalice, and around its top is a wide border of decorative

lettering, bearing the inscription, "THE + MOST + HERE + OF. + IS

+ DUNNE + BY + PETER + PETERSON +." This craftsman was a Norwich

silversmith of the sixteenth century, very famous in his day, and

a remarkably chaste designer as well. A beautiful ivory cup twelve

inches high, set in silver gilt, called the Grace Cup, of

Thomas à Becket, is inscribed around the top band, "_Vinum tuum bibe

cum gaudio_." It has a hall-mark of a Lombardic letter H, signifying

the year 1445. It is decorated by cherubs, roses, thistles, and

crosses, relieved with garnets and pearls. On another flat band

is the inscription: "_Sobrii estote_," and on the cover,

in Roman capitals, "_Ferare God_." It is owned by the Howard family,

of Corby.

Tankards were sometimes made of such crude materials as leather

(like the "lether bottel" of history), and of wood. In fact, the

inventory of a certain small church in the year 1566 tells of a

"penny tankard of wood," which was used as a "holy water stock."

An extravagant design, of a period really later than we are supposed

to deal with in this book, is a curious cup at Barber's and Surgeon's

Hall, known as the Royal Oak. It is built to suggest an oak tree,--a

naturalistic trunk, with its roots visible, supporting the cup,

which is in the form of a semi-conventional tree, covered with

leaves, detached acorns swinging free on rings from the sides at

intervals!

Richard Redgrave called attention to some of the absurdities of

the exotic work of his day in England. "Rachel at a well, under

an imitative palm tree," he remarks, "draws, not water, but ink;

a grotto of oyster shells with children beside it, contains... an

ink vessel; the milk pail on a maiden's head contains, not goat's

milk, as the animal by her side would lead you to suppose, but a

taper!"

One great secret of good design in metal is to avoid imitating

fragile things in a strong material. The stalk of a flower or leaf,

for instance, if made to do duty in silver to support a heavy cup or

vase, is a very disagreeable thing to contemplate; if the article

were really what it represented, it would break under the strain.

While there should be no deliberate perversion of Nature's forms,

there should be no naturalistic imitation.