UNCLE BOB AS STORY TELLER
Uncle Bob and his party remained in France several weeks, and during
that time visited the old French cathedrals with their interesting
windows; and saw in the Louvre much glass of early French make as well
as many beautiful Venetian mirrors with all sorts of unique histories.
One mirror was that famous seventeenth century possession of Marie de
Medici, a looking-glass set in a frame which represented a fortune of
over thirty thousand dollars. This mirror was of rock crystal combined
with cut and polished agates, and around it was a network of enameled
gold. Outside this inner frame was a larger one formed entirely of
precious stones. Three large emeralds as well as smaller diamonds and
rubies adorned it.
"Probably," said Mr. Cabot, "this is but one of many such examples of
ancient luxury. Unfortunately, however, most of these extravagant
affairs have been melted up by avaricious monarchs who coveted the gems
and gold. Such ornate mirrors are a relic of the Renaissance when each
object made was considered an art work on which every means of
enrichment was lavished. I do not know that I think it any handsomer
than are the simpler mirrors with their Venetian frames of exquisitely
carved wood, of which there are many fine specimens in the Louvre."
"Is the mirror that was given by the Republic of Venice to Henry the
Third in the Louvre?" asked Giusippe.
"No, that is in the Cluny Museum. You have heard of it, then?"
"Oh, yes; often in Venice. I have seen pictures of it, too," Giusippe
replied.
"We must see it before we leave France," declared Mr. Cabot. "It was,
as you already know, presented to Henry the Third on his return from
Poland. It is set in a wonderfully designed frame of colored and white
beveled glass, and the decoration is of alternating fleur-de-lis and
palm leaves, which are fastened to the frame by a series of screws. It
is quite a different sort of mirror from that of Marie de Medici."
"I should like to see it," Jean said.
"You certainly shall."
How rich France was in beautiful things! One never could see them all.
One of the sights that especially interested Jean and Hannah was the
imitation gems displayed in the Paris jewelry shops. These exquisite
stones, Uncle Bob told them, were made in laboratories by workmen so
skilful that only an expert could distinguish the manufactured gems
from the real, the stones conforming to almost every test applied to
genuine jewels. They were not manufactured, however, for the purpose of
deceiving people, but rather to be sold to those who either could not
afford valuable stones or did not wish the care of them. The imitation
pearls were especially fine, and by no means cheap either, as Hannah
soon found out when she attempted to purchase a small string.
But many as were the wonderful sights in France, the continent had soon
to be left behind, and almost before the travelers realized it the
Channel had been crossed and they stood upon English soil. As Uncle
Bob's time was limited they went direct to London, and when once there
one of the first things that Giusippe wished to see were the mosaics in
St. Paul's Cathedral of which he had heard so much. So they set out. On
reaching the church Giusippe regarded it with awe. How unlike it was to
his well loved St. Mark's. And yet how beautiful!
"These mosaics, like the ones we shall see at the Houses of Parliament,
were not first made and then put up on the walls as were those such as
Salviati and other Venetians shipped from Venice," explained Mr. Cabot.
"No, these were made directly upon the walls, the pieces of glass being
pressed into prepared areas of cement spread thickly upon the brickwork
of the building. The designs are simple, large and effective figures
being preferred to smaller and more intricate patterns. Millions of
pieces have been used to make the pictures, and if you will notice
carefully you will see that they have the rough surface which catches
the light as do all the early Venetian mosaics."
Giusippe nodded.
"There must also be some fine old glass windows in London," he
speculated. "Aren't there, Mr. Cabot?"
"Yes, some varieties that you did not have in Venice, too," declared
Uncle Bob. "You see other people did invent something, Giusippe. Here
in England in some of the older houses there are windows made of tiny
pieces of white glass leaded together; people were not able at that
time to get large sheets of glass such as we now use, and I am not sure
that these windows made of small leaded panes were not prettier. Then
you will find other windows made from what we call bull's eye glass.
These bull's eyes were the centers or waste from large discs of crown
glass after all the big pieces possible had been cut away. As most
glass comes now in sheets crown glass is little made, and therefore we
find bull's eyes rare unless manufactured expressly to imitate the
antique roundels."
"Of course there is lots of old stained glass in England, isn't there,
Uncle Bob?" Jean ventured.
"Yes, indeed. I am sorry to say, however, that much of it has been
destroyed before the public realized its value. At Salisbury Cathedral,
for instance, some of the fine old glass was taken down and beaten to
pieces in order that the lead might be used. At Oxford rare Gothic
windows were removed and broken up to give room for the more modern
work of the Renaissance. But you will still find at Canterbury and in
many other of the English churches stained glass which has escaped
destruction and come down to us through hundreds of years. And speaking
of how such things have been preserved I must tell you the wonderful
story of the east window in St. Margaret's Chapel at Westminster."
"Oh, do tell us!" begged Jean. "I love stories."
"This story is almost like a fairy tale, when one considers that it is
the history of such a fragile thing as a glass window," Mr. Cabot
began. "This window of which I am telling you was Flemish in design,
and is said to have been ordered by Ferdinand and Isabella when their
daughter Catherine was engaged to Arthur, the Prince of Wales. But for
some reason it was not delivered, and a Dutch magistrate later decided
to present it to King Henry the Seventh. Unfortunately the king died
before the gift arrived and it came into the hands of the Abbot of
Waltham. Now these were very troublous times for a stained glass window
to be traveling about the land; Cromwell was in power and his followers
believed it right to destroy everything which existed merely because of
its beauty. So the old abbot was afraid his treasure would be wrecked,
and to insure its safety he buried it."
"How funny!"
"Yes, wasn't it?"
"What happened then?"
"After the Restoration one of the loyal generals of the Crown had the
window dug up and placed in a chapel on his estate. But the house
changed hands and as its new owner did not like the window he offered
it to Wadham College. The college authorities, alas, did not care for
it, so it remained cased up for many years. Then by and by along came
an Englishman who had the courage to buy it and have it set up in his
house."
"Was that the end of it?" queried Giusippe.
"No, indeed. This person died, and his son took down the stained glass
heirloom and in 1758 sold it to a committee which was at that time busy
decorating St. Margaret's Chapel. Here at last it was set up and here
one cannot but hope it will remain. Certainly it has earned a long
rest."
"Shouldn't you think it would have been broken in all that time?"
ejaculated Jean.
"One would certainly have thought so," Uncle Bob agreed. "It seemed to
possess a charmed life. Most of that early glass was made by Flemish
refugees who had fled to England to escape religious persecution. Some
was designed for English monasteries. Houses, you know, did not have
glass windows at that time but depended for protection upon oiled paper
and skins. Glass was considered a luxury, and it was many, many years
before window glass or table glass was in use. Rich English families
bought glass dishes from galleys which, as Giusippe has told us, came
laden from Venice. Sometimes this Venetian glass was mounted in gold or
silver. There was, it is true, a little glass of English make, but no
one thought it worth using; in fact when the stained glass windows were
put into Beauchamp Chapel at Warwick it was expressly stated that no
English glass was to be used."
"How did glass ever come to be made here, then?" inquired Jean.
"Well, in time more Flemish Protestants fled to England and began
making stained glass at London, Stourbridge, and Newcastle-on-Tyne. In
1589 there were fifteen glass-houses in England. Then, because so much
wood had been used in the iron foundries, the supply became exhausted
and sea or pit coal had to be used instead. People were forced to try,
in consequence, a different kind of melting pot for their glass and a
new mixture of material; in this way they stumbled upon a heavy,
brilliant, white crystal metal which the French called 'the most
beautiful glassy substance known.' It was the pure white flint, or
crystal glass, for which England has since become famous. Immediately
it began to be used for all sorts of things. In 1637 the Duke of
Buckingham had flint glass windows for his coach, and he had some
Venetian workmen make mirrors out of it. So it went. A great many more
mirrors were made, great pier glasses with beveled edges. It is said
that some of those very mirrors are even now at Hampton Court. In the
course of time the English became more and more skilful at
glass-making, and when Queen Victoria came to the throne they were
manufacturing enormous cut glass ornaments and bowls, and decorating
their palaces and theaters with glass chandeliers which had myriads of
heavy, sparkling prisms dangling from them. You will remember that in
Venice you saw some glass chandeliers; and you may recall how
delicately fashioned they were and how their twisted branches were
covered with glass flowers in the center of which candles could be set.
But the English chandeliers were far more massive affairs than those.
And no sooner did English workmen find what they could do with this new
material than they went mad over glass-making. Why, in 1851 they
actually built for the first International Exhibit a Crystal Palace
with a big glass fountain in it. Its builder was James Paxton, and he
was knighted for doing it."
"I should think he deserved to be!" Jean said. "Who ever would have
thought of making a palace of glass!"
"This one attracted much attention, I assure you," said Uncle Bob.
"Later it was reconstructed at Sydenham and to this day there it
stands. England now makes the finest crystal glass of any country in
the world; but to-morrow I intend to take you to the British Museum and
show you that in spite of all that European nations have done there
were other very skilful glass-makers in the world before any of them
made glass at all."
"Before the time of the Greeks and Romans--before the people who made
the Naples Vase?" Jean asked.
"Yes, centuries before."
"Who were they?" demanded both Jean and Giusippe in the same breath.
"The Egyptians first; and after them the Phoenicians and Syrians. All
these peoples lived where they could easily get plenty of the fine
white sand necessary for glass-making. In some of the old tombs glass
beads, cups, drinking-vessels, and curiously shaped vials have been
found, many of them very beautiful in color. Some of this color is due
to the action of the soil and the atmosphere, for science tells us that
after glass has been buried in the earth many centuries and is then
exposed to the air it begins to decay and its color often changes. We
have in our museums many pieces of ancient glass which have changed
color in this way and have become far more beautiful than they
originally were. How these races that lived in the remote ages found
out how to make glass no one knows; but certain it is that the
Egyptians could fashion imitation gems, crude mosaics and various glass
vessels. Later the Phoenicians improved the art and afterward, as you
have seen, the Greeks and Romans took it up. There is a strange tale of
how, during the reign of Tiberius, a glass-maker discovered how to make
a kind of glass which would not break. It was a sort of malleable
glass."
"Oh, tell us about it, please, Uncle Bob."
"Certainly, if you would like to hear. This glass-maker made a cup for
the Emperor and tried a long time to get an audience at which to
present his new invention. Then at last the chance came, and thinking
to make himself famous the artisan contrived, as he passed the flagon
to his sovereign, to drop it on the marble floor. Of course every one
thought the glass was broken, and that is precisely what the
glass-maker wanted them to think. He picked it up, smoothed out with
his hammer the dent made in its side, and passed it once more expecting
to receive praise for his wonderful deed. Tiberius eyed him silently.
Then he asked; 'Does any one else know how to make glass like this?'
"'No one,' answered the glass-maker.
"'Off with his head at once!' cried the enraged monarch. 'If glass
dishes and flasks do not break they will soon become as valuable as my
gold and silver ones!'
"Despite his protests the poor glass-maker was dragged off and
beheaded. The rulers of those days were not very fair-minded, you see."
With so many interesting stories, and so many things to see, you may be
sure that neither Jean nor Giusippe found sightseeing dull. And the
next day Uncle Bob was as good as his word, and took the young people
to the British Museum, where he showed them some of the old Egyptian
and Græco-Syrian glass. There were little vases, cups, and flasks of
wonderful iridescent color, as well as many glass beads that had been
found upon Egyptian mummies.
"Now, Uncle Bob," Jean said, after they had looked at these strange old
bits of glass for some time, "you must take us to see the Portland
Vase. You promised you would, you know."
"Sure enough; so I did. I should have forgotten it, too, had you not
mentioned it."
Accordingly they hunted up the Gold Room where the vase stood.
Jean was very proud that she was able to point it out before she had
been told which one it was.
"You see," explained she shyly, "it is so much like the Naples Vase
that I recognized it right off."
It was indeed of the same dark blue transparent glass, and had on it
the same sort of delicate white cameo figures.
"This vase," Mr. Cabot said, "was found about the middle of the
sixteenth century enclosed in a marble sarcophagus in an underground
chamber which was located two and a half miles out of Rome. It was
taken to the Barbarini Palace, but later the princess of that noble
family, wishing to raise money, sold it to Sir William Hamilton, who
chanced to be at that time the English ambassador to Naples. From him
it passed to the Duchess of Portland, and at her death was sold at
auction to the new Duke of Portland. That is the way it got its name.
Now the Duke, desirous of putting his precious purchase in a safe
place, and also wishing to allow others to enjoy it, lent it to the
British Museum. Imagine his horror and that of the Museum authorities
when in 1845 a lunatic named Lloyd, who saw it, viciously smashed it to
pieces."
His hearers gasped.
"To see it you would not dream that it had ever been broken, would you?
Yes, it has been so carefully mended that no one could tell the
difference. It was this vase which the English potter, Wedgwood,
coveted so intensely that he bid a thousand pounds for it; the Duke of
Portland outbid him by just twenty-nine pounds. He was, however, a
generous man, and when at last the vase was his he allowed Wedgwood to
copy it. This took a year's time, and even then the copy was far less
beautiful than was the original. Many copies of it have been made
since, but never has any one succeeded in making anything to equal the
vase itself. You will see copies of it in almost all our American
museums."
"I mean to see when I get home if there is a copy of it in Boston,"
Jean remarked.
"You will find one at the Art Museum. And now while we are here there
is still that other famous vase which I mentioned once before and which
I should like to have you see. It is not, perhaps, as fine as the
Naples or the Portland, but it is nevertheless one celebrated the world
over. Like the Naples Vase it came from Pompeii, and like the Portland
Vase it has been skilfully mended. It is called the Auldjo Vase."
Uncle Bob was not long in finding where this treasure stood. It was
small--not more than nine inches in height, and like the other two was
of the familiar blue transparent glass with a white cameo design cut
upon it. Instead of having a Grecian decoration, however, the pattern
was of vines, leaves, and clusters of grapes.
"The Portland Vase, as I have already told you, was perfect when it was
unearthed," Mr. Cabot said. "And the Naples Vase you will remember was
also whole except that its base, or foot, which was probably of gold,
was missing. But the Auldjo Vase was in pieces, and it was only a
single one of these fragments that was bequeathed to the British Museum
by Miss Auldjo. Now when the Museum committee saw this single piece
nothing would do but they must have the others. They therefore bought
the rest, had the vase mended, and set it up here where people can see
it. It cost a great deal of money to purchase it."
"I think it is splendid of museums and of rich people to buy such
things and put them where every one can look at them!" exclaimed Jean.
"None of us could afford to and if those who owned them just kept them
in their own houses we should never see them at all."
"Yes. Remember that, too, in this day when there are so many persons
who begrudge the rich their fortunes. Remember if there were not
individuals in the world who possessed fortunes the poor would have far
less opportunity to see art treasures of every sort. And that is one
way in which those who are rich and generous can serve their country.
There are many different methods of being a good citizen, you see."
Mr. Cabot took out his watch and glanced at it thoughtfully.
"I think we shall have time to see just one thing more, and then we
must go back to the hotel. We have examined all kinds of glass
objects--so many, in fact, that it would seem as if there was no other
purpose for which glass could be used. And yet I can show you something
of which, I will wager, you have not thought."
"What is it?" questioned the two young people breathlessly.
Full of curiosity, Uncle Bob led them through several corridors until
he came to a large room that they had not visited. He conducted them to
its farther end and paused before a large sand glass.
"Before the days of clocks and watches," he began, "such glasses as
these were much in use for telling the time. Throughout the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries they had them in almost all the churches,
that the officiating clergyman might be able to measure the length of
his sermon."
Jean laughed.
"I wish they had them now," she declared mischievously.
"Sometimes I do," smiled Uncle Bob. "It is said the glasses were
originally invented in Egypt. Wherever they came from, they certainly
were a great convenience to those who had no other means of telling the
time. Charlemagne, I have read, had a sand glass so large that it
needed to be turned only once in twelve hours. Fancy how large it must
have been. At the South Kensington Museum is a set of four large sand
glasses evidently made to go together. Of course you have seen, even in
our day, hour, quarter-hour, and minute glasses."
"I used to practice by an hour glass," Jean replied quickly. "At least
it was a quarter-of-an-hour glass, and I had to turn it four times."
"It would be strange not to have clocks and watches, wouldn't it?"
reflected Giusippe as they walked back to the hotel.
"I guess it would!" Hannah returned emphatically. "The meals would
never be on time."
"One advantage in that, my good Hannah, would be that nobody would ever
be scolded because he was late," retorted Mr. Cabot humorously.
The three weeks allotted for the London visit passed only too quickly,
and surprisingly soon came the day when the travelers found themselves
aboard ship and homeward bound.
Perhaps after all they were not altogether sorry, for despite the
marvels of the old world there is no place like home. Hannah was eager
to open the Boston house and air it; Jean rejoiced that each throb of
the engine brought her nearer to her beloved doggie; Uncle Bob's
fingers itched to be setting in place the Italian marbles he had
ordered for the new house; and Giusippe waited almost with bated breath
for his first sight of America, the country of his dreams.
But a great surprise was in store for every one of these persons as the
mighty steamer left her moorings and put out of Liverpool harbor.
Across the deck came a vision, an apparition so unexpected that Jean
and Giusippe cried out, and even Uncle Bob muttered to himself
something which nobody could hear. The figure was that of a girl--a
girl with wind-tossed hair who, with head thrown back, stopped a moment
and looked full into the sunset.
It was Miss Ethel Cartright of New York, Giusippe's beautiful lady of
Venice!