"Why, as I think I told you, the Venetians began to make mirrors as early as 1300. Of course, señorita, they were crude affairs—not at all like the fine ones of to-day, but to people who had nothing better they were marvels. And indeed they were both clever and beautiful. For you must remember that ages ago there was no such thing as a looking-glass. Men and women could only see their reflections in streams, pools, and fountains. Then the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans began to make mirrors of burnished metal, using bits of brass or bronze often beautifully decorated on the back with classic Grecian figures. Rich women carried such mirrors fastened to their girdles or sometimes instead had them fitted into small, shallow boxes of carved ivory; sometimes too the mirror was set in a case of gold, silver, enamel, or ebony with intricate decoration on the outside. That was the first of mirror-making."
"How curious!"
"Later the Venetians experimented and began backing pieces of glass with mercury or tin. The surface was first covered with tinfoil and then rubbed down until smooth; then the whole was coated with quicksilver, which formed an amalgam with the tin. It does no harm to tell you about it now, señorita," added Giusippe a little sadly, "for every one knows. This process was slow and unsatisfactory, but it was the best the workmen then knew. These mirrors they set in elaborate frames of glass, silver, carved wood, mother-of-pearl, coral, tarsi, or into frames of painted wood. Some of them were sent by Venetian nobles as gifts to kings and queens of other countries; often they were purchased by royalties themselves. You can see many in the museums of France, Germany, or England."
"We will hunt them up, Jean," Uncle Bob declared.
"I'd love to see them," replied the girl.
"My father has told me that there were frequent quarrels between the glass-makers and the mirror-framers because, you see, the framers wanted to learn the secret of making the mirrors, and the mirror-makers were jealous of the skill of the framers and feared the frame would be more beautiful than the mirror itself and so overshadow it. Then in 1600 the French stole from our people the secret of mirror-making and began turning out mirrors not only as good, but in some respects better than the Venetian ones."
"Oh, Giusippe, how did they steal the secret?" Jean cried. "How dreadful!"
"It was through the treachery of our own countrymen, señorita," Giusippe confessed. "Yes, sorry as I am to say so, it was our own fault. The French, you see, as well as the Venetians, had long been experimenting with glass-making and since it was considered there, as here, an art, many penniless Huguenot gentlemen who had lost their fortunes took it up; for one might be a glass-maker and still retain his noble rank. Such was Bernard Palissy——"
"The potter!" interrupted Jean. "I learned all about him in my history."
Giusippe nodded.