It bears the date 1599, and is in general appearance like a fish, with a sort of scoop, or spoon-bowl, projecting from the mouth. There are indications that it was originally fashioned as a horn for blowing, but was afterwards converted to its present purpose. A small tablet of the same material represents ‘Orator’ Henley preaching. On the floor in the centre of the building, presumably Henley’s chapel in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, is seen an inscription indicating that the notorious Colonel Charteris lies buried there. Immediately in front of the preacher stands a bear on his hind-legs, holding a staff; and the congregation are represented with horns, exaggerated noses, heads of animals, and other deformities. The preacher appears to be uttering the words, ‘Let those not calumniate who cannot confute.’
In another part of the room is a choice collection of ancient watches, pocket dials, and timepieces of various descriptions, some of very eccentric character. There are oval watches, octagon watches, and cruciform watches; watches in the form of tulips and other flowers. There is a dial in the form of a star, and another in the shape of a lute. A gilt clock, of considerable size, in the form of a ship, with elaborate mechanical movements, is said to have been made for the Emperor Rudolf II. A pocket dial shown has a special interest, as having belonged to Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, some time favourite of Queen Elizabeth. This dial bears the arms of the ill-fated earl, together with an inscription showing that it was made by one James Kynvyn, in 1593.
Astrolabes, nocturnals, and other astronomical instruments, English and foreign, are largely represented. There are ancient chess and backgammon boards, with men carved or stamped in divers quaint fashions; and a number of drinking-cups in bronze, rock-crystal, and silver, among those of the last material being a small goblet of graceful fashion long known as the ‘Cellini’ cup, but believed to be in truth of German workmanship. An elegant tazza of rock-crystal, mounted with silver-gilt, has a medallion portrait of Queen Elizabeth in its centre; but whether it actually belonged to the Virgin Queen is uncertain.
The connoisseur in enamels will here find a large and varied collection, ranging from the cloisonné of the Byzantine to the champ levé of the early Limoges school, and the surface-painting of later artists. Some of the specimens shown are extremely beautiful; indeed, this collection alone would well repay the trouble of a visit. One of the earlier specimens, a plate of German enamel, represents Henry of Blois, Bishop of Winchester, and brother to King Stephen. Among the more curious specimens of this ancient art are sundry bishops’ crosiers of various dates, and a couple of ‘pricket’ candlesticks, in which the candle, instead of being dropped into a socket in the modern manner, is impaled upon an upright point.
A small pietà of the sixteenth century, placed in one corner of the room, deserves a special mention. The figures are in wax, skilfully draped with real silk and lace. Such a combination has usually a tawdry appearance, but it has no such effect in this instance. The name of the modeller has not been handed down to us, but he was unquestionably a true artist. The look of death on the Saviour’s face, and the heart-broken expression of the Madonna as she bends over to kiss his blood-stained brow, are almost painfully real. The power of the representation is the more remarkable from its small size, the whole group being only about eight inches square.
In a collection numbering many hundreds of items, it is obviously impossible even to mention more than a very small proportion of the whole. We have spoken more particularly of such as have some personal or historical association connected with them; but on the score of antiquity alone, such a collection as this must be full of interest to thoughtful minds. Who can gaze upon these relics of the distant past without yearning to look back into the far-off times when all these things were new? What would we give to see, ‘in their habit as they lived,’ the men who fashioned these ancient timepieces, who drank from these crystal cups, and played tric-trac on these quaint backgammon boards? It needs but small imagination to call up Burns and his boon-companions carousing around the marble punch-bowl, with ‘just a wee drap in their e’e;’ but who shall name the knights who wore this iron gauntlet or that repoussé breastplate? Their ‘bones are dust, their good swords rust,’ and yet here is part of their ancient panoply, well-nigh as perfect as when it left the armourer’s anvil four hundred years ago. Truly, they did good work, these mediæval artificers. The struggle for existence was not so intense; they did not hurry, as in these high-pressure days. Believing, with old George Herbert, that ‘we do it soon enough, if that we do be well,’ they wisely took their time, caring little to do quick work, so long as they did good work. And so their handiwork remains, monumentum ære perennius, a standing memorial of the good old time when ‘art was still religion,’ and labour was noble, because the craftsman put his heart into his work.
ONE WOMAN’S HISTORY.
A NOVELETTE.
BY T. W. SPEIGHT.