JEWELRY AND PRECIOUS STONES
We are told that the word "jewel" has come by degrees from Latin,
through French, to its present form; it commenced as a "gaudium"
(joy), and progressed through "jouel" and "joyau" to the familiar
word, as we have it.
The first objects to be made in the form of personal adornment were
necklaces: this may be easily understood, for in certain savage
lands the necklace formed, and still forms, the chief feature in
feminine attire. In this little treatise, however, we cannot deal
with anything so primitive or so early; we must not even take time
to consider the exquisite Greek and Roman jewelry. Amongst the
earliest mediæval jewels we will study the Anglo-Saxon and the
Byzantine.
Anglo-Saxon and Irish jewelry is famous for delicate filigree, fine
enamels, and flat garnets used in a very decorative way. Niello
was also employed to some extent. It is easy, in looking from the
Bell of St. Patrick to the Book of Kells, to see how the illuminators
were influenced by the goldsmiths in early times,--in Celtic and
Anglo-Saxon work.
[Illustration: SAXON BROOCH]
The earliest forms of brooches were the annular,--that is, a long
pin with a hinged ring at its head for ornament, and the "penannular,"
or pin with a broken circle at its head. Through the opening in the
circle the pin returns, and then with a twist of the ring, it is
held more firmly in the material. Of these two forms are notable
examples in the Arbutus brooch and the celebrated Tara brooch. The
Tara brooch is a perfect museum in itself of the jeweller's art.
It is ornamented with enamel, with jewels set in silver, amber,
scroll filigree, fine chains, Celtic tracery, moulded glass--nearly
every branch of the art is represented in this one treasure, which
was found quite by accident near Drogheda, in 1850, a landslide
having exposed the buried spot where it had lain for centuries.
As many as seventy-six different kinds of workmanship are to be
detected on this curious relic.
[Illustration: THE TARA BROOCH]
At a great Exhibition at Ironmonger's Hall in 1861
there was shown a leaden fibula, quite a dainty piece of personal
ornament, in Anglo-Saxon taste, decorated with a moulded spiral
meander. It was found in the Thames in 1855, and there are only
three other similar brooches of lead known to exist.
Of the Celtic brooches Scott speaks:
"...the brooch of burning gold
That clasps the chieftain's mantle fold,
Wrought and chased with rare device,
Studded fair with gems of price."
One of the most remarkable pieces of Celtic jewelled work is the
bell of St. Patrick, which measures over ten inches in height.
This saint is associated with several bells: one, called the Broken
Bell of St. Brigid, he used on his last crusade against the demons
of Ireland; it is said that when he found his adversaries specially
unyielding, he flung the bell with all his might into the thickest
of their ranks, so that they fled precipitately into the sea, leaving
the island free from their aggressions for seven years, seven months,
and seven days.
One of St. Patrick's bells is known, in Celtic, as the "white toned,"
while another is called the "black sounding." This is an early and
curious instance of the sub-conscious association of the qualities
of sound with those of colour. Viollet le Duc tells how a blind man
was asked if he knew what the colour red was. He replied, "Yes:
red is the sound of the trumpet." And the great architect himself,
when a child, was carried by his nurse into the Cathedral of Notre
Dame in Paris, where he cried with terror because he fancied that
the various organ notes which he heard were being hurled at him
by the stained glass windows, each one represented by a different
colour in the glass!
[Illustration: SHRINE OF THE BELL OF ST. PATRICK]
But the most famous bell in connection with St. Patrick is the one
known by his own name and brought with his relics by Columbkille
only sixty years after the saint's death. The outer case is an
exceedingly rich example of Celtic work. On a ground of brass, fine
gold and silver filigree is applied, in curious interlaces and knots,
and it is set with several jewels, some of large size, in green,
blue, and dull red. In the front are two large tallow-cut Irish
diamonds, and a third was apparently set in a place which is now
vacant. On the back of the bell appears a Celtic inscription in most
decorative lettering all about the edge; the literal translation
of this is: "A prayer for Donnell O'Lochlain, through whom this
bell shrine was made; and for Donnell, the successor of Patrick,
with whom it was made; and for Cahalan O'Mulhollan, the keeper of
the bell, and for Cudilig O'Immainen, with his sons, who covered
it." Donald O'Lochlain was monarch of Ireland in 1083. Donald the
successor of Patrick was the Abbot of Armagh, from 1091 to 1105.
The others were evidently the craftsmen who worked on the shrine.
In many interlaces, especially on the sides, there may be traced
intricate patterns formed of serpents, but as nearly all Celtic
work is similarly ornamented, there is probably nothing personal
in their use in connection with the relic of St. Patrick! Patrick
brought quite a bevy of workmen into Ireland about 440: some were
smiths, Mac Cecht, Laebhan, and Fontchan, who were turned at once
upon making of bells, while some other skilled artificers, Fairill
and Tassach, made patens and chalices. St. Bridget, too, had a
famous goldsmith in her train, one Bishop Coula.
The pectoral cross of St. Cuthbert of Lindisfarne is now to be seen
in Durham. It was buried with the saint, and was discovered with
his body. The four arms are of equal length, and not very heavy in
proportion. It is of gold, made in the seventh century, and is set
with garnets, a very large one in the centre, one somewhat smaller
at the ends of the arms, where the lines widen considerably, and
with smaller ones continuously between.
Among the many jewels which decorated the shrine of Thomas à Becket
at Canterbury was a stone "with an angell of gold poynting thereunto,"
which was a gift from the King of France, who had had it "made
into a ring and wore it on his thumb." Other stones described as
being on this shrine were sumptuous, the whole being damascened
with gold wire, and "in the midst of the gold, rings; or cameos
of sculptured agates, carnelians, and onyx stones." A visitor to
Canterbury in 1500 writes: "Everything is left far behind by a
ruby not larger than a man's thumb nail, which is set to the right
of the altar. The church is rather dark, and when we went to see
it the sun was nearly gone down, and the weather was cloudy, yet
we saw the ruby as well as if it had been in my hand. They say
it was a gift of the King of France."
Possessions of one kind were often converted into another, according
to changing fashions. Philippa of Lancaster had a gold collar made
"out of two bottles and a turret," in 1380.
Mediæval rosaries were generally composed of beads of coral or
carnelian, and often of gold and pearls as well. Marco Polo tells
of a unique rosary worn by the King of Malabar; one hundred and
four large pearls, with occasional rubies of great price, composed
the string. Marco Polo adds: "He has to say one hundred and four
prayers to his idols every morning and evening."
In the possession of the Shah of Persia is a gold casket studded
with emeralds, which is said to have the magic power of rendering
the owner invisible as long as he remains celibate. I fancy that
this is a safe claim, for the tradition is not likely to be put
to the proof in the case of a Shah! Probably there has never been
an opportunity of testing the miraculous powers of the stones.
The inventory of Lord Lisle contains many interesting side lights
on the jewelry of the period: "a hawthorne of gold, with twenty
diamonds;" "a little tower of gold," and "a pair of beads of gold,
with tassels." Filigree or chain work was termed "perry." In old
papers such as inventories, registers, and the like, there are
frequent mentions of buttons of "gold and perry;" in 1372 Aline
Gerbuge received "one little circle of gold and perry, emeralds
and balasses." Clasps and brooches were used much in the fourteenth
century. They were often called "ouches," and were usually of jewelled
gold. One, an image of St. George, was given by the Black Prince to
John of Gaunt. The Duchess of Bretagne had among other brooches one
with a white griffin, a balas ruby on its shoulder, six sapphires
around it, and then six balasses, and twelve groups of pearls with
diamonds.
Brooches were frequently worn by being stuck in the hat. In a curious
letter from James I. to his son, the monarch writes: "I send for
your wearing the Three Brethren" (evidently a group of three stones)
"...but newly set... which I wolde wish you to weare alone in your
hat, with a Littel black feather." To his favourite Buckingham
he also sends a diamond, saying that his son will lend him also
"an anker" in all probability; but he adds: "If my Babee will not
spare the anker from his Mistress, he may well lend thee his round
brooch to weare, and yett he shall have jewels to weare in his
hat for three grate dayes."
In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the women wore nets in
their hair, composed of gold threads adorned with pearls. At first
two small long rolls by the temples were confined in these nets:
later, the whole back hair was gathered into a large circular
arrangement. These nets were called frets--"a fret of pearls" was
considered a sufficient legacy for a duchess to leave to her daughter.
In the constant resetting and changing of jewels, many important
mediæval specimens, not to mention exquisite vessels and church
furniture, were melted down and done over by Benvenuto Cellini,
especially at the time that Pope Clement was besieged at the Castle
of St. Angelo.
Probably the most colossal jewel of ancient times was the Peacock
Throne of Delhi. It was in the form of two spread tails of peacocks,
composed entirely of sapphires, emeralds and topazes, feather by
feather and eye by eye, set so as to touch each other. A parrot of
life size carved from a single emerald, stood between the peacocks.
In 1161 the throne of the Emperor in Constantinople is described
by Benjamin of Tudela: "Of gold ornamented with precious stones.
A golden crown hangs over it, suspended on a chain of the same
material, the length of which exactly admits the Emperor to sit
under it. The crown is ornamented with precious stones of inestimable
value. Such is the lustre of these diamonds that even without any
other light, they illumine the room in which they are kept."
The greatest mediæval jeweller was St. Eloi of Limoges. His history
is an interesting one, and his achievement and rise in life was very
remarkable in the period in which he lived. Eloi was a workman in
Limoges, as a youth, under the famous Abho, in the sixth century;
there he learned the craft of a goldsmith. He was such a splendid
artisan that he soon received commissions for extensive works on his
own account. King Clothaire II. ordered from him a golden throne,
and supplied the gold which was to be used. To the astonishment of
all, Eloi presented the king with _two_ golden thrones (although
it is difficult to imagine what a king would do with duplicate
thrones!), and immediately it was noised abroad that the goldsmith
Eloi was possessed of miraculous powers, since, out of gold sufficient
for one throne, he had constructed two. People of a more practical
turn found out that Eloi had learned the art of alloying the gold,
so as to make it do double duty.
A great many examples of St. Eloi's work might have been seen in
France until the Revolution in 1792, especially at the Abbey of St.
Denis. A ring made by him, with which St. Godiberte was married to
Christ, according to the custom of mediæval saints, was preserved at
Noyon until 1793, when it disappeared in the Revolution. The Chronicle
says of Eloi: "He made for the king a great numer of gold vesses
enriched with precious stones, and he worked incessantly, seated
with his servant Thillo, a Saxon by birth, who followed the lessons
of his master." St. Eloi founded two institutions for goldsmithing:
one for the production of domestic and secular plate, and the other
for ecclesiastical work exclusively, so that no worker in profane
lines should handle the sacred vessels. The secular branch was
situated near the dwelling of Eloi, in the Cité itself, and was
known as "St. Eloi's Enclosure." When a fire burned them out of
house and shelter, they removed to a suburban quarter, which soon
became known in its turn, as the "Clôture St. Eloi." The religious
branch of the establishment was presided over by the aforesaid
Thillo, and was the Abbey of Solignac, near Limoges. This school
was inaugurated in 631.
While Eloi was working at the court of King Clothaire II., St. Quen
was there as well. The two youths struck up a close friendship, and
afterwards Ouen became his biographer. His description of Eloi's
personal appearance is worth quoting, to show the sort of figure a
mediæval saint sometimes cut before canonization. "He was tall, with
a ruddy face, his hair and beard curly. His hands well made, and his
fingers long, his face full of angelic sweetness.... At first he
wore habits covered with pearls and precious stones; he had also
belts sewn with pearls. His dress was of linen encrusted with gold,
and the edges of his tunic trimmed with gold embroidery. Indeed, his
clothing was very costly, and some of his dresses were of silk. Such
was his exterior in his first period at court, and he dressed thus
to avoid singularity; but under this garment he wore a rough sack
cloth, and later on, he disposed of all his ornaments to relieve the
distressed; and he might be seen with only a cord round his waist
and common clothes. Sometimes the king, seeing him thus divested of
his rich clothing, would take off his own cloak and girdle and give
them to him, saying: 'It is not suitable that those who dwell for
the world should be richly clad, and that those who despoil
themselves for Christ should be without glory.'"
Among the numerous virtues of St. Eloi was that of a consistent
carrying out of his real beliefs and theories, whether men might
consider him quixotic or not. He was strongly opposed to the institution
of slavery. In those days it would have been futile to preach actual
emancipation. The times were not ripe. But St. Eloi did all that he
could for the cause of freedom by investing most of his money in
slaves, and then setting them at liberty. Sometimes he would "corner"
a whole slave market, buying as many as thirty to a hundred at a
time. Some of these manumitted persons became his own faithful
followers: some entered the religious life, and others devoted their
talents to their benefactor, and worked in his studios for the
furthering of art in the Church.
He once played a trick upon the king. He requested the gift of
a town, in order, as he explained, that he might there build a
ladder by which they might both reach heaven. The king, in the
rather credulous fashion of the times, granted his request, and
waited to see the ladder. St. Eloi promptly built a monastery.
If the monarch did not choose to avail himself of this species of
ladder,--surely it was no fault of the builder!
St. Quen and St. Eloi were consecrated bishops on the same day,
May 14, St. Quen to the Bishopric of Rouen, and Eloi to the See of
Noyon. He made a great hunt for the body of St. Quentin, which had
been unfortunately mislaid, having been buried in the neighbourhood
of Noyon; he turned up every available spot of ground around, within
and beneath the church, until he found a skeleton in a tomb, with
some iron nails. This he proclaimed to be the sacred body, for
the legend was that St. Quentin had been martyred by having nails
driven into his head! Although it was quite evident to others that
these were coffin nails, still St. Eloi insisted upon regarding his
discovery as genuine, and they began diligently to dismember the
remains for distribution among the churches. As they were pulling
one of the teeth, a drop of blood was seen to follow it, which
miracle was hailed by St. Eloi as the one proof wanting. Eloi had
the genuine artistic temperament and his religious zeal was much
influenced by his æsthetic nature. He once preached an excellent
sermon, still preserved, against superstition. He inveighed
particularly against the use of charms and incantations. But he had
his own little streak of superstition in spite of the fact that he
fulminated against it. When he had committed some fault, after
confession, he used to hang bags of relics in his room, and watch
them for a sign of forgiveness. When one of these would turn oily,
or begin to affect the surrounding atmosphere peculiarly, he would
consider it a sign of the forgiveness of heaven. It seems to us
to-day as if he might have looked to his own relic bags before
condemning the ignorant.
St. Eloi died in 659, and was himself distributed to the faithful
in quite a wholesale way. One arm is in Paris. He was canonized
both for his holy life and for his great zeal in art. He was buried
in a silver coffin adorned with gold, and his tomb was said to
work miracles like the shrine of Becket. Indeed, Becket himself
was pretty dressy in the matter of jewels; when he travelled to
Paris, the simple Frenchmen exclaimed: "What a wonderful personage
the King of England must be, if his chancellor can travel in such
state!"
There are various legends about St. Eloi. It is told that a certain
horse once behaved in a very obstreperous way while being shod; St.
Eloi calmly cut off the animal's leg, and fixed the shoe quietly
in position, and then replaced the leg, which grew into place again
immediately, to the pardonable astonishment of all beholders, not
to mention the horse.
St. Eloi was also employed to coin the currency of Dagobert and
Clovis II., and examples of these coins may now be seen, as authentic
records of the style of his work. A century after his death the
monasteries which he had founded were still in operation, and
Charlemagne's crown and sword are very possibly the result of St.
Eloi's teachings to his followers.
While the monasteries undoubtedly controlled most of the art education
of the early middle ages, there were also laymen who devoted themselves
to these pursuits. John de Garlande, a famous teacher in the University
of Paris, wrote, in the eleventh century, a "Dictionarius" dealing
with various arts. In this interesting work he describes, the trades
of the moneyers (who controlled the mint), the coining of gold and
silver into currency (for the making of coin in those days was
permitted by individuals), the clasp makers, the makers of cups
or hanaps, jewellers and harness makers, and other artificers.
John de Garlande was English, born about the middle of the twelfth
century, and was educated in Oxford. In the early thirteenth century
he became associated with the University, and when Simon de Montfort
was slain in 1218, at Toulouse, John was at the University of
Toulouse, where he was made So professor, and stayed three years,
returning then to Paris. He died about the middle of the thirteenth
century. He was celebrated chiefly for his Dictionarius, a work on
the various arts and crafts of France, and for a poem "De Triumphis
Ecclesiæ."
During the Middle Ages votive crowns were often presented to churches;
among these a few are specially famous. The crowns, studded with
jewels, were suspended before the altar by jewelled chains, and often
a sort of fringe of jewelled letters was hung from the rim, forming
an inscription. The votive crown of King Suinthila, in Madrid, is
among the most ornate of these. It is the finest specimen in the
noted "Treasure of Guerrazzar," which was discovered by peasants
turning up the soil near Toledo; the crowns, of which there were
many, date from about the seventh century, and are sumptuous with
precious stones. The workmanship is not that of a barbarous nation,
though it has the fascinating irregularities of the Byzantine style.
Of the delightful work of the fifth and sixth centuries there are
scarcely any examples in Italy. The so-called Iron Crown of Monza
is one of the few early Lombard treasures. This crown has within
it a narrow band of iron, said to be a nail of the True Cross;
but the crown, as it meets the eye, is anything but iron, being
one of the most superb specimens of jewelled golden workmanship,
as fine as those in the Treasure of Guerrazzar.
[Illustration: THE TREASURE OF GUERRAZZAR.]
The crown of King Alfred the Great is mentioned in an old inventory
as being of "gould wire worke, sett with slight stones, and two
little bells." A diadem is described by William of Malmsbury, "so
precious with jewels, that the splendour... threw sparks of light
so strongly on the beholder, that the more steadfastly any person
endeavoured to gaze, so much the more he was dazzled, and compelled
to avert the eyes!" In 1382 a circlet crown was purchased for Queen
Anne of Bohemia, being set with a large sapphire, a balas, and four
large pearls with a diamond in the centre.
The Cathedral at Amiens owns what is supposed to be the head of
John the Baptist, enshrined in a gilt cup of silver, and with bands
of jewelled work. The head is set upon a platter of gilded and
jewelled silver, covered with a disc of rock crystal. The whole,
though ancient, is enclosed in a modern shrine. The legend of the
preservation of the Baptist's head is that Herodias, afraid that
the saint might be miraculously restored to life if his head and
body were laid in the same grave, decided to hide the head until
this danger was past. Furtively, she concealed the relic for a time,
and then it was buried in Herod's palace. It was there opportunely
discovered by some monks in the fourth century. This "invention of
the head" (the word being interpreted according to the credulity of
the reader) resulted in its removal to Emesa, where it was exhibited
in 453. In 753 Marcellus, the Abbot of Emesa, had a vision by means
of which he re-discovered (or re-invented) the head, which had in
some way been lost sight of. Following the guidance of his dream,
he repaired to a grotto, and proceeded to exhume the long-suffering
relic. After many other similar and rather disconnected episodes,
it finally came into possession of the Bishop of Amiens in 1206.
A great calamity in early times was the loss of all the valuables
of King John of England. Between Lincolnshire and Norfolk the royal
cortège was crossing the Wash: the jewels were all swept away.
Crown and all were thus lost, in 1216.
Several crowns have been through vicissitudes. When Richard III.
died, on Bosworth Field, his crown was secured by a soldier and
hidden in a bush. Sir Reginald de Bray discovered it, and restored
it to its rightful place. But to balance such cases several of the
queens have brought to the national treasury their own crowns.
In 1340 Edward III. pawned even the queen's jewels to raise money
for fighting France.
The same inventory makes mention of certain treasures deposited
at Westminster: the values are attached to each of these, crowns,
plates, bracelets, and so forth. Also, with commendable zeal, a
list was kept of other articles stored in an iron chest, among which
are the items, "one liver coloured silk robe, very old, and worth
nothing," and "an old combe of horne, worth nothing." A frivolous
scene is described by Wood, when the notorious Republican, Marten,
had access to the treasure stored in Westminster. Some of the wits
of the period assembled in the treasury, and took out of the iron
chest several of its jewels, a crown, sceptre, and robes; these
they put upon the merry poet, George Withers, "who, being thus
crowned and royally arrayed, first marched about the room with a
stately gait, and afterwards, with a thousand ridiculous and apish
actions, exposed the sacred ornaments to contempt and laughter."
No doubt the "olde comb" played a suitable part in these
pranks,--perhaps it may even have served as orchestra.
One Sir Henry Mildmay, in 1649, was responsible for dreadful vandalism,
under the Puritan régime. Among other acts which he countenanced was
the destruction and sale of the wonderful Crown of King Alfred,
to which allusion has just been made. In the Will of the Earl of
Pembroke, in 1650, is this clause showing how unpopular Sir Henry
had become: "Because I threatened Sir Henry Mildmay, but did not
beat him, I give £50 to the footman who cudgelled him. Item, my
will is that the said Sir Harry shall not meddle with my jewels. I
knew him... when he handled the Crown jewels,... for which reason
I now name him the Knave of Diamonds."
Jewelled arms and trappings became very rich in the fifteenth century.
Pius II. writes of the German armour: "What shall I say of the
neck chains of the men, and the bridles of the horses, which are
made of the purest gold; and of the spears and scabbards which are
covered with jewels?" Spurs were also set with jewels, and often
damascened with gold, and ornamented with appropriate mottoes.
An inventory of the jewelled cups and reliquaries of Queen Jeanne
of Navarre, about 1570, reads like a museum. She had various gold
and jewelled dishes for banquets; one jewel is described as "Item,
a demoiselle of gold, represented as riding upon a horse, of mother
of pearl, standing upon a platform of gold, enriched with ten rubies,
six turquoises and three fine pearls." Another item is, "A fine rock
crystal set in gold, enriched with three rubies, three emeralds,
and a large sapphire, set transparently, the whole suspended from
a small gold chain."
It is time now to speak of the actual precious stones themselves,
which apart from their various settings are, after all, the real
jewels. According to Cellini there are only four precious stones:
he says they are made "by the four elements," ruby by fire, sapphire
by air, emerald by earth, and diamond by water. It irritated him
to have any one claim others as precious stones. "I have a thing
or two to say," he remarks, "in order not to scandalize a certain
class of men who call themselves jewellers, but may be better likened
to hucksters, or linen drapers, pawn brokers, or grocers... with a
maximum of credit and a minimum of brains... these dunderheads...
wag their arrogant tongues at me and cry, 'How about the chrysophrase,
or the jacynth, how about the aqua marine, nay more, how about the
garnet, the vermeil, the crysolite, the plasura, the amethyst?
Ain't these all stones and all different?' Yes, and why the devil
don't you add pearls, too, among the jewels, ain't they fish bones?"
Thus he classes the stones together, adding that the balas, though
light in colour, is a ruby, and the topaz a sapphire. "It is of the
same hardness, and though of a different colour, must be classified
with the sapphire: what better classification do you want? hasn't
the air got its sun?"
Cellini always set the coloured stones in a bezel or closed box
of gold, with a foil behind them. He tells an amusing story of
a ruby which he once set on a bit of frayed silk instead of on
the customary foil. The result happened to be most brilliant. The
jewellers asked him what kind of foil he had used, and he replied
that he had employed no foil. Then they exclaimed that he must have
tinted it, which was against all laws of jewelry. Again Benvenuto
swore that he had neither used foil, nor had he done anything forbidden
or unprofessional to the stone. "At this the jeweller got a little
nasty, and used strong language," says Cellini. They then offered
to pay well for the information if Cellini would inform them by what
means he had obtained so remarkably a lustre. Benvenuto, expressing
himself indifferent to pay, but "much honoured in thus being able to
teach his teachers," opened the setting and displayed his secret,
and all parted excellent friends.
Even so early as the thirteenth century, the jewellers of Paris had
become notorious for producing artificial jewels. Among their laws
was one which stipulated that "the jeweller was not to dye the
amethyst, or other false stones, nor mount them in gold leaf nor other
colour, nor mix them with rubies, emeralds, or other precious stones,
except as a crystal simply without mounting or dyeing."
One day Cellini had found a ruby which he believed to be set
dishonestly, that is, a very pale stone with a thick coating of
dragon's blood smeared on its back. When he took it to some of
his favourite "dunderheads," they were sure that he was mistaken,
saying that it had been set by a noted jeweller, and could not be
an imposition. So Benvenuto immediately removed the stone from
its setting, thereby exposing the fraud. "Then might that ruby have
been likened to the crow which tricked itself out in the feathers
of the peacock," observes Cellini, adding that he advised these
"old fossils in the art" to provide themselves with better eyes
than they then _wore_. "I could not resist saying this," chuckles
Benvenuto, "because all three of them wore great gig-lamps on their
noses; whereupon they all three gasped at each other, shrugged
their shoulders, and with God's blessing, made off." Cellini tells
of a Milanese jeweller who concocted a great emerald, by applying a
very thin layer of the real stone upon a large bit of green glass:
he says that the King of England bought it, and that the fraud
was not discovered for many years.
A commission was once given Cellini to make a magnificent crucifix
for a gift from the Pope to Emperor Charles V., but, as he expresses
it, "I was hindered from finishing it by certain beasts who had the
vantage of the Pope's ear," but when these evil whisperers had so
"gammoned the Pope," that he was dissuaded from the crucifix, the
Pope ordered Cellini to make a magnificent Breviary instead, so
that the "job" still remained in his hands.
Giovanni Pisano made some translucid enamels for the decorations of
the high altar in Florence, and also a jewelled clasp to embellish
the robe of a statue of the Virgin.
Ghiberti was not above turning his attention to goldsmithing, and
in 1428 made a seal for Giovanni de Medici, a cope-button and mitre
for Pope Martin V., and a gold nutre with precious stones weighing
five and a half pounds, for Pope Eugene IV.
Diamonds were originally cut two at a time, one cutting the other,
whence has sprung the adage, "diamond cut diamond." Cutting in
facets was thus the natural treatment of this gem. The practise
originated in India. Two diamonds rubbing against each other
systematically will in time form a facet on each. In 1475 it was
discovered by Louis de Berghem that diamonds could be cut by their
own dust.
It is an interesting fact in connection with the Kohinoor that
in India there had always been a legend that its owner should be
the ruler of India. Probably the ancient Hindoos among whom this
legend developed would be astonished to know that, although the
great stone is now the property of the English, the tradition is
still unbroken!
Marco Polo alludes to the treasures brought from the
Isle of Ormus, as "spices, pearls, precious stones, cloth of gold
and silver, elephant's teeth, and all other precious things from
India." In Balaxiam he says are found "ballasses and other precious
stones of great value. No man, on pain of death, dare either dig
such stones or carry them out of the country, for all those stones
are the King's. Other mountains also in this province yield stones
called lapis lazuli, whereof the best azure is made. The like is
not found in the world. These mines also yield silver, brass, and
lead." He speaks of the natives as wearing gold and silver earrings,
"with pearls and-other stones artificially wrought in them." In
a certain river, too, are found jasper and chalcedons.
Marco Polo's account of how diamonds are obtained is ingenuous
in its reckless defiance of fact. He says that in the mountains
"there are certain great deep valleys to the bottom of which there
is no access. Wherefore the men who go in search of the diamonds
take with them pieces of meat," which they throw into this deep
valley. He relates that the eagles, when they see these pieces of
meat, fly down and get them, and when they return, they settle on
the higher rocks, when the men raise a shout, and drive them off.
After the eagles have thus been driven away, "the men recover the
pieces of meat, and find them full of diamonds, which have stuck to
them. For the abundance of diamonds down in the depths," continues
Marco Polo, naïvely "is astonishing; but nobody can get down, and
if one could, it would be only to be incontinently devoured
by the serpents which are so rife there." A further account proceeds
thus: "The diamonds are so scattered and dispersed in the earth,
and lie so thin, that in the most plentiful mines it is rare to
find one in digging;... they are frequently enclosed in clods,...
some... have the earth so fixed about them that till they grind
them on a rough stone with sand, they cannot move it sufficiently
to discover they are transparent or... to know them from other
stones. At the first opening of the mine, the unskilful labourers
sometimes, to try what they have found, lay them on a great stone,
and, striking them one with another, to their costly experience,
discover that they have broken a diamond.... They fill a cistern
with water, soaking therein as much of the earth they dig out of
the mine as it can hold at one time, breaking the clods, picking
out the great stones, and stirring it with shovels... then they
open a vent, letting out the foul water, and supply it with clean,
till the earthy substance be all washed away, and only the gravelly
one remains at the bottom." A process of sifting and drying is then
described, and the gravel is all spread out to be examined, "they
never examine the stuff they have washed but between the hours of
ten and three, lest any cloud, by interposing, intercept the brisk
beams of the sun, which they hold very necessary to assist them
in their search, the diamonds constantly reflecting them when they
shine on them, rendering themselves thereby the more conspicuous."
The earliest diamond-cutter is frequently mentioned as Louis de
Berquem de Bruges, in 1476. But Laborde finds earlier records of
the art of cutting this gem: there was in Paris a diamond-cutter
named Herman, in 1407. The diamond cutters of Paris were quite
numerous in that year, and lived in a special district known as "la
Courarie, where reside the workers in diamonds and other stones."
Finger rings almost deserve a history to themselves, for their
forms and styles are legion. Rings were often made of glass in the
eleventh century. Theophilus tells in a graphic and interesting
manner how they were constructed. He recommends the use of a bar
of iron, as thick as one's finger, set in a wooden handle, "as a
lance is joined in its pike." There should also be a large piece
of wood, at the worker's right hand, "the thickness of an arm,
dug into the ground, and reaching to the top of the window." On
the left of the furnace a little clay trench is to be provided.
"Then, the glass being cooked," one is admonished to take the little
iron in the wooden handle, dip it into the molten glass, and pick
up a small portion, and "prick it into the wood, that the glass
may be pierced through, and instantly warm it in the flame, and
strike it twice upon the wood, that the glass may be dilated, and
with quickness revolve your hand with the same iron;" when the
ring is thus formed, it is to be quickly thrown into the trench.
Theophilus adds, "If you wish to vary your rings with other colours...
take... glass of another colour, surrounding the glass of the ring
with it in the manner of a thread... you can also place upon the
ring glass of another kind, as a gem, and warm it in the fire that
it may adhere." One can almost see these rings from this accurate
description of their manufacture.
The old Coronation Ring, "the wedding ring of England," was a gold
ring with a single fine balas ruby; the pious tradition had it
that this ring was given to Edward the Confessor by a beggar, who
was really St. John the Evangelist in masquerade! The palace where
this unique event occurred was thereupon named Have-ring-at-Bower.
The Stuart kings all wore this ring and until it came to George
IV., with other Stuart bequests, it never left the royal Stuart
line.
Edward I. owned a sapphire ring made by St. Dunstan. Dunstan was
an industrious art spirit, being reported by William of Malmsbury
as "taking great delight in music, painting, and engraving." In
the "Ancren Riwle," a book of directions for the cloistered life
of women, nuns are forbidden to wear "ne ring ne brooche," and
to deny themselves other personal adornments.
Archbishops seem to have possessed numerous rings in ancient times.
In the romance of "Sir Degrevant" a couplet alludes to:
"Archbishops with rings
More than fifteen."
Episcopal rings were originally made of sapphires, said to be typical
of the cold austerity of the life of the wearer. Later, however,
the carbuncle became a favourite, which was supposed to suggest fiery
zeal for the faith. Perhaps the compromise of the customary amethyst,
which is now most popularly used, for Episcopal rings, being a
combination of the blue and the red, may typify a blending of more
human qualities!
[Illustration: HEBREW RING]
In an old will of 1529, a ring was left as a bequest to a relative,
described as "a table diamond set with black aniell, meate for my
little finger."
The accompanying illustration represents a Hebrew ring, surmounted
by a little mosque, and having the inscription "Mazul Toub" (God
be with you, or Good luck to you).
It was the custom in Elizabethan times to wear "posie rings" (or
poesie rings) in which inscriptions were cut, such as, "Let likinge
Laste," "Remember the ? that is in pain," or, "God saw fit this
knot to knit," and the like. These posie rings are so called
because of the little poetical sentiments associated with them.
They were often used as engagement rings, and sometimes as wedding
rings. In an old Saxon ring is the inscription, "Eanred made me and
Ethred owns me." One of the mottoes in an old ring is pathetic;
evidently it was worn by an invalid, who was trying to be patient,
"Quant Dieu Plera melior sera." (When it shall please God, I shall
be better.) And in a small ring set with a tiny diamond, "This
sparke shall grow." An agreeable and favourite "posie" was
"The love is true
That I O U."
A motto in a ring owned by Lady Cathcart was inscribed on the occasion
of her fourth marriage; with laudable ambition, she observes,
"If I survive,
I will have five."
It is to these "posie rings" that Shakespeare has reference when
he makes Jaques say to Orlando: "You are full of pretty answers:
have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned
them out of rings?"
In the Isle of Man there was once a law that any girl who had been
wronged by a man had the right to redress herself in one of three
ways: she was given a sword, a rope and a ring, and she could decide
whether she would behead him, hang him, or marry him. Tradition
states that the ring was almost invariably the weapon chosen by
the lady.
Superstition has ordained that certain stones should cure certain
evils: the blood-stone was of very general efficacy, it was claimed,
and the opal, when folded in a bay leaf, had the power of rendering
the owner invisible. Some stones, especially the turquoise, turned
pale or became deeper in hue according to the state of the owner's
health; the owner of a diamond was invincible; the possession of an
agate made a man amiable, and eloquent. Whoever wore an amethyst
was proof against intoxication, while a jacynth superinduced sleep
in cases of insomnia. Bed linen was often embroidered, and set with
bits of jacynth, and there is even a record of diamonds having
been used in the decoration of sheets! Another entertaining instance
of credulity was the use of "cramp rings." These were rings blessed
by the queen, and supposed to cure all manner of cramps, just as the
king's touch was supposed to cure scrofula. When a queen died, the
demand for these rings became a panic: no more could be produced,
until a new queen was crowned. After the beheading of Anne Boleyn,
Husee writes to his patroness: "Your ladyship shall receive of this
bearer nine cramp rings of silver. John Williams says he never
had so few of gold as this year!"
A stone engraved with the figure of a hare was believed to be valuable
in exorcising the devil. That of a dog preserved the owner from
"dropsy or pestilence;" a versatile ring indeed! An old French book
speaks of an engraved stone with the image of Pegasus being particularly
healthful for warriors; it was said to give them "boldness and swiftness
in flight." These two virtues sound a trifle incompatible!
The turquoise was supposed to be especially sympathetic. According
to Dr. Donne:
"A compassionate turquoise, that cloth tell
By looking pale, the owner is not well,"
must have been a very sensitive stone.
There was a physician in the fourth century who was famous for his
cures of colic and biliousness by means of an iron ring engraved
with an exorcism requesting the bile to go and take possession of
a bird! There was also a superstition that fits could be cured
by a ring made of "sacrament money." The sufferer was obliged to
stand at the church door, begging a penny from every unmarried
man who passed in or out; this was given to a silversmith, who
exchanged it at the cathedral for "sacrament money," out of which
he made a ring. If this ring was worn by the afflicted person,
the seizures were said to cease.
The superstition concerning the jewel in the toad's head was a
strangely persistent one: it is difficult to imagine what real
foundation there could ever have been for the idea. An old writer
gives directions for getting this stone, which the toad in his life
time seems to have guarded most carefully. "A rare good way to get
the stone out of a toad," he says, "is to put a... toad... into
an earthen pot: put the same into an ant's hillocke, and cover
the same with earth, which toad... the ants will eat, so that the
bones... and stone will be left in the pot." Boethius once stayed
up all night watching a toad in the hope that it might relinquish
its treasure; but he complained that nothing resulted "to gratify
the great pangs of his whole night's restlessness."
An old Irish legend says that "the stone Adamant in the land of
India grows no colder in any wind or snow or ice; there is no heat
in it under burning sods" (this is such an Hibernian touch! The
peat fuel was the Celtic idea of a heating system), "nothing is
broken from it by striking of axes and hammers; there is one thing
only breaks that stone, the blood of the Lamb at the Mass; and
every king that has taken that stone in his right hand before going
into battle, has always gained the victory." There is also a
superstition regarding the stone Hibien, which is said to flame
like a fiery candle in the darkness, "it spills out poison before
it in a vessel; every snake that comes near to it or crosses it
dies on the moment." Another stone revered in Irish legend is the
Stone of Istien, which is found "in the brains of dragons after
their deaths," and a still more capable jewel seems to be the Stone
of Fanes, within which it is claimed that the sun, moon, and twelve
stars are to be seen. "In the hearts of the dragons it is always
found that make their journey under the sea. No one having it in
his hand can tell any lie until he has put it from him; no race or
army could bring it into a house where there is one that has made
way with his father. At the hour of matins it gives out sweet music
that there is not the like of under heaven."
Bartholomew, the mediæval scientist, tells narratives of the magical
action of the sapphire. "The sapphire is a precious stone," he
says, "and is blue in colour, most like to heaven in fair weather
and clear, and is best among precious stones, and most apt and able
to fingers of kings. And if thou put an addercop in a box, and
hold a very sapphire of India at the mouth of the box any while,
by virtue thereof the addercop is overcome and dieth, as it were
suddenly. And this same I have seen proved oft in many and divers
places." Possibly the fact that the addercop is so infrequent an
invader of our modern life accounts for the fact that we are left
inert upon reading so surprising a statement; or possibly our
incredulity dominates our awe.
The art of the lapidary, or science of glyptics, is a most interesting
study, and it would be a mistake not to consider it for a few moments
on its technical side. It is very ancient as an art. In Ecclesiasticus
the wise Son of Sirach alludes to craftsmen "that cut and grave
seals, and are diligent to make great variety, and give themselves
to counterfeit imagery, and watch to finish a work."
Theophilus on glyptics is too delightfully naïve for us to resist
quoting his remarks. "Crystal," he announces, "which is water hardened
into ice, and the ice of great age hardened into stone, is trimmed
and polished in this manner." He then directs the use of sandstone
and emery, chiefly used by rubbing, as one might infer, to polish the
stones, probably _en cabochon_ as was the method in his time; this
style of finish on a gem was called "tallow cutting." But when one
wishes to sculp crystal, Theophilus informs one: "Take a goat of two
or three years... make an opening between his breast and stomach, in
the position of the heart, and lay in the crystal, so that it may lie
in its blood until it grow warm... cut what you please in it as long
as the heat lasts." Just how many goats were required to the finishing
of a sculptured crystal would be determined by the elaboration of
the design! Unfortunately Animal Rescue Leagues had not invaded
the monasteries of the eleventh century.
In sculpturing glass, the ingenuous Theophilus is quite at his best.
"Artists!" he exclaims, "who wish to engrave glass in a beautiful
manner, I now can teach you, as I have myself made trial. I have
sought the gross worms which the plough turns up in the ground,
and the art necessary in these things also bid me procure vinegar,
and the warm blood of a lusty goat, which I was careful to place
under the roof for a short time, bound with a strong ivy plant.
After this I infused the worms and vinegar with the warm blood and
I anointed the whole clearly shining vessel; which being done, I
essayed to sculp the glass with the hard stone called the Pyrites."
What a pity good Theophilus had not begun with the pyrites, when
he would probably have made the further discovery that his worms
and goats could have been spared.
In the polishing of precious stones, he is quite sane in his directions.
"Procure a marble slab, very smooth," he enjoins, "and act as useful
art points out to you." In other words, rub it until it is smooth!
Bartholomew Anglicus is as entertaining as Theophilus regarding
crystal. "Men trowe that it is of snow or ice made hard in many
years," he observes complacently. "This stone set in the sun taketh
fire, insomuch if dry tow be put thereto, it setteth the tow on
fire," and again, quoting Gregory on Ezekiel I., he adds, "water
is of itself fleeting, but by strength of cold it is turned and
made stedfast crystal."
Of small specimens of sculptured crystal some little dark purple
beads carved into the semblance of human faces may be seen on the
Tara brooch; while also on the same brooch occur little purple
daisies.
The Cup of the Ptolemies, a celebrated onyx cup in Paris, is over
fifteen inches in circumference, and is a fine specimen of early
lapidary's work. It was presented in the ninth century by Charles
the Bald to St. Denis, and was always used to contain the consecrated
wine when Queens of France were crowned. Henry II. once pawned
it to a Jew when he was hard up, and in 1804 it was stolen and
the old gold and jewelled setting removed. It was found again in
Holland, and was remounted within a century.
In the Treasury of St. Mark's in Venice are many valuable examples
of carved stones, made into cups, flagons, and the like. These were
brought from Constantinople in 1204, when the city was captured
by the Venetians. Constantinople was the only place where glyptics
were understood and practised upon large hard stones in the early
Middle Ages. The Greek artists who took refuge in Italy at that time
brought the art with them. There are thirty-two of these Byzantine
chalices in St. Mark's. Usually the mountings are of gold, and precious
stones. There are also two beautiful cruets of agate, elaborately
ornamented, but carved in curious curving forms requiring skill
of a superior order. Two other rock crystal cruets are superbly
carved, probably by Oriental workmen, however, as they are not
Byzantine in their decorations. One of them was originally a vase,
and, indeed, is still, for the long gold neck has no connection
with the inside; the handle is also of gold, both these adjuncts
seem to have been regarded as simply ornament. The other cruet is
carved elaborately with leopards, the first and taller one showing
monsters and foliate forms. Around the neck of the lower of these
rock crystal cruets is an inscription, praying for God's blessing
on the "Imam Aziz Billah," who was reigning in Egypt in 980. This
cruet has a gold stand. The handle is cleverly cut in the same
piece of crystal, but a band of gold is carried down it to give it
extra strength. The forming of this handle in connection with the
rest of the work is a veritable _tour de force_, and we should have
grave doubts whether Theophilus with his goats could have managed
it!
[Illustration: CRYSTAL FLAGONS, ST. MARK'S, VENICE]
Vasari speaks with characteristic enthusiasm of the glyptics of
the Greeks, "whose works in that manner may be called divine."
But, as he continues, "many and very many years passed over during
which the art was lost".... until in the days of Lorenzo di Medici
the fashion for cameos and intaglios revived.
In the Guild of the Masters of Wood and Stone in Florence, the
cameo-cutters found a place, nevertheless it seems fitting to include
them at this point among jewellers, instead of among carvers.
The Italians certainly succeeded in performing feats of lapidary
art at a later period. Vasari mentions two cups ordered by Duke
Cosmo, one cut out of a piece of lapis lazuli, and the other from
an enormous heliotrope, and a crystal galley with gold rigging
was made by the Sanachi brothers. In the Green Vaults in Dresden
may be seen numerous specimens of valuable but hideous products
of this class. In the seventeenth century, the art had run its
course, and gave place to a taste for cameos, which in its turn
was run into the ground.
Cameo-cutting and gem engraving has always been accomplished partly
by means of a drill; the deepest point to be reached in the cutting
would be punctured first, and then the surfaces cut, chipped, and
ground away until the desired level was attained. This is on much
the same principle as that adopted by marble cutters to-day.
Mr. Cyril Davenport's definition of a cameo is quite satisfactory:
"A small sculpture executed in low relief upon some substance precious
either for its beauty, rarity, or hardness." Cameos are usually
cut in onyx, the different layers and stratifications of colour
being cut away at different depths, so that the sculpture appears
to be rendered in one colour on another, and sometimes three or
four layers are recognized, so that a shaded effect is obtained.
Certain pearly shells are sometimes used for cameo cutting; these
were popular in Italy in the fifteenth century. In Greece and Rome
the art of cameo cutting was brought to astonishing perfection, the
sardonyx being frequently used, and often cut in five different
coloured layers. An enormous antique cameo, measuring over nine
inches across, may be seen in Vienna; it represents the Apotheosis
of Augustus, and the scene is cut in two rows of spirited figures.
It dates from the first century A. D. It is in dark brown and white.
Among the treasures of the art-loving Henry III. was a "great cameo,"
in a golden case; it was worth two hundred pounds. This cameo was
supposed to compete with a celebrated work at Ste. Chapelle in Paris,
which had been brought by Emperor Baldwin II. from Constantinople.
[Illustration: SARDONYX CUP, 11TH CENTURY, VENICE]
In Paris was a flourishing guild, the "Lapidaries, Jewel Cutters,
and Engravers of Cameos and Hard Stones," in the thirteenth century;
glass cutters were included in this body for a time, but after 1584
the revised laws did not permit of any imitative work, so glass
cutters were no longer allowed to join the society. The French work
was rather coarse compared with the classic examples.
The celebrated Portland Vase is a glass cameo, of enormous proportions,
and a work of the first century, in blue and white. There is a
quaint legend connected with the famous stone cameo known as the
Vase of St. Martin, which is as follows: when St. Martin visited
the Martyr's Field at Agaune, he prayed for some time, and then
stuck his knife into the ground, and was excusably astonished at
seeing blood flow forth. Recognizing at once that he was in the
presence of the miraculous (which was almost second nature to mediæval
saints), he began sedulously to collect the precious fluid in a
couple of receptacles with which he had had the foresight to provide
himself. The two vases, however, were soon filled, and yet the
mystical ruby spring continued. At his wit's ends, he prayed again
for guidance, and presently an angel descended, with a vase of
fine cameo workmanship, in which the remainder of the sacred fluid
was preserved. This vase is an onyx, beautifully cut, with fine
figures, and is over eight inches high, mounted at foot and collar
with Byzantine gold and jewelled work. The subject appears to be
an episode during the Siege of Troy,--a whimsical selection of
design for an angel.
Some apparently mediæval cameos are in reality antiques recut with
Christian characters. A Hercules could easily be turned into a
David, while Perseus and Medusa could be transformed quickly into
a David and Goliath. There are two examples of cameos of the Virgin
which had commenced their careers, one as a Leda, and the other as
Venus! While a St. John had originally figured as Jupiter with his
eagle!
In the Renaissance there was great revival of all branches of gem
cutting, and cameos began to improve, and to resemble once more
their classical ancestors. Indeed, their resemblance was rather
academic, and there was little originality in design. Like most of
the Renaissance arts, it was a reversion instead of a new creation.
Technically, however, the work was a triumph. The craftsmen were
not satisfied until they had quite outdone the ancients, and they
felt obliged to increase the depth of the cutting, in order to show
how cleverly they could coerce the material; they even under-cut
in some cases. During the Medicean period of Italian art, cameos
were cut in most fantastic forms; sometimes a negro head would
be introduced simply to exhibit a dark stratum in the onyx, and
was quite without beauty. One of the Florentine lapidaries was
known as Giovanni of the Carnelians, and another as Domenico of
the Cameos. This latter carved a portrait of Ludovico il Moro on
a red balas ruby, in intaglio. Nicolo Avanzi is reported as having
carved a lapis lazuli "three fingers broad" into the scene of the
Nativity. Matteo dal Nassaro, a son of a shoemaker in Verona, developed
extraordinary talent in gem cutting.
An exotic production is a crucifix cut in a blood-stone by Matteo
del Nassaro, where the artist has so utilized the possibilities of
this stone that he has made the red patches to come in suitable
places to portray drops of blood. Matteo worked also in Paris, in
1531, where he formed a school and craft shop, and where he was
afterwards made Engraver of the Mint.
Vasari tells of an ingenious piece of work by Matteo, where he
has carved a chalcedony into a head of Dejanira, with the skin of
the lion about it. He says, "In the stone there was a vein of red
colour, and here the artist has made the skin turn over... and he
has represented this skin with such exactitude that the spectator
imagines himself to behold it newly torn from the animal! Of another
mark he has availed himself, for the hair, and the white parts
he has taken for the face and breast." Matteo was an independent
spirit: when a baron once tried to beat him down in his price for a
gem, he refused to take a small sum for it, but asked the baron to
accept it as a gift. When this offer was refused, and the nobleman
insisted upon giving a low price, Matteo deliberately took his
hammer and shattered the cameo into pieces at a single blow. His
must have been an unhappy life. Vasari says that he "took a wife in
France and became the father of children, but they were so entirely
dissimilar to himself, that he had but little satisfaction from
them."
Another famous lapidary was Valerio Vicentino, who carved a set
of crystals which were made into a casket for Pope Clement VII.,
while for Paul III. he made a carved crystal cross and chandelier.
Vasari reserves his highest commendation for Casati, called "el
Greco," "by whom every other artist is surpassed in the grace and
perfection as well as in the universality of his productions."...
"Nay, Michelangelo himself, looking at them one day while Giovanni
Vasari was present, remarked that the hour for the death of the
art had arrived, for it was not possible that better work could
be seen!" Michelangelo proved a prophet, in this case surely, for
the decadence followed swiftly.