Numerous works in iron, of the twelfth century, many of great beauty —others in brass, silver, and gold, together with specimens of enamel and jewelry, of middle-age handling, were exhibited on this occasion. Few, however, of the curiosities of this period drew more attention than the manuscripts in simple scroll or illuminated. The greater portion of these came from the collections of M. Ambroise Firmin Didot or M. Le Carpentier. The Marquis de Ganay sent one article worth a hundred others, viz., the Books of the Gospels which had belonged to Charlemagne, and which, as tradition tells us, were wrung from the abbey of St. Maurice d'Argaune in the civil wars of the fourteenth century. On one side of its binding was a gold plate, impressed with the figure of Christ Blessing—a work of the ninth century. It was also adorned with a set of uncut precious stones, added in the twelfth century. Near to this were the Gospels, written in the eleventh century at the monastery of Ottenbeuren in Swabia, in characters of gold and silver. A copy of Josephus, from Saint-Tron in the province of Lemberg, Belgium, of the twelfth century, was also extremely fine. An Italian manuscript of the fourteenth century was also there, written on vellum, with ornamental capitals and miniatures—the revelations of St. Bridget Among these precious works not the least singular was a Livre d'heures on vellum, having 330 pages, illustrated and ornamented with as many different subjects. Of these, fifty-six were taken from the Dance of Death. This was a work of the fifteenth century, and, strange to say—whether in melancholy jest or otherwise—had been presented by Louis XV. to his physician Dr. Mead. The works of the renaissance and subsequent period, in this collection, [{278}] were most numerous in what may be termed miniature objects—light branches and lovely blossoms springing from the great main trunks of painting and sculpture. For them chiefly, so full of winning instructiveness, this Musée Retrospectif would seem to have been especially got up. They appeared in forms of gold, silver, and much more cherished bronze, in ivory, and again the happier vehicle wood, in crystal and in glass, in steel, in gems and miniatures, in enamelled terra cotta, in furniture, in time-pieces, in tapestry, and numberless other ways.
The bronzes, scattered among the collections on every side, were admirable. The miniature model of an equestrian statue—a condottiere leader by Donatello—was universally felt to be a model in that most difficult branch of art. It excited an absolute furore amongst the critics. In contrast to its graceful swing of boldness, there was a basso relievo from an unknown hand, representing the figure of Charity—a draped female figure—clasping a child to her bosom caressingly, while other fondlings of the like age cling round her neck and her knees. Exquisite sweetness of expression is here found united to perfection of form and masterly arrangement of elaborate drapery. Yet the author is wholly unknown. Numerous statuettes sustained the honor of this class. We pass them to note three busts—full size—which could not fail to arrest the attention and command the deep admiration of every amateur or artist who passed through these saloons. The first was that of Beneviani, an Italian noble of the fifteenth century; the second, of Jerome Beneviani, a poet and philosopher of the sixteenth century; the third, of the great Buonarotti. The rigid adherence to nature, full of sincere force of expression, impressed on all three, compelled one to pause and ponder and commune with character so deeply significant. Such busts leave impressions not easily to be effaced, and are most instructive to the sculptor.
The great strength of this Exhibition lay, however, not so much in the subjects to which we have alluded as in its singular profusion of examples in the vast field of pottery and Limoge enamelling. It is probable that never have so many and such various specimens of both these branches of art been hitherto brought together. It is but just to say, that by far the greater part of the voluminous array had attached to it the names of Baron G. Rothschild and M. Alphonso Rothschild. Every variety of pottery or porcelain having any claim to reputation (with the exception of our own English works) seemed to have here, in one quarter or another, its representative.
Here were Moorish and Hispano-moresque vessels, comparatively rude in design and tinting, from which the great susceptibility of Italian art drew its first inspirations. Then came the majolica, in all its progressive modifications; the varnished sculpture of Luca della Robbia; the relievo of Palissy, of which we had here every contrasted variety of subject, and all the different schools of Italy fully and most interestingly illustrated. The value attached to some of the rarer specimens might be thought fabulous were we not familiar with the extravagances into which the long-pursed amateurs are led, in their devotion to the singular, if not the unique. Thus there appeared in the treasury of the Rothschilds a morsel—a small candlestick—of the almost extinct faience of Henry II., to which, it was affirmed, the value of forty thousand francs was attached. If the whole thirty or so subsisting specimens of this rarity were swept away, what, in point of general grace of form, elegance of linear detail, or delicacy of color, would be lost to the world? Something infinitesimally inconsiderable. Around this precious relique there was a wondrous profusion of Limoges enamels, belonging to various persons, and exhibiting in every degree the beauties of that exquisite specialty of [{279}] art applied either to portraiture or five historic or sacred subject. These, indeed, deserve to be cherished with watchfulness and affection.
Among other contributions to this Exhibition were a large collection of fine Chinese and Japanese curiosities, to which with great truth the title Retrospectif could be affixed. They combined admirably great strength of construction with charming delicacy of embellishment.
In contrast to all these gentler productions of human genius came the special contribution of the emperor, presenting art and ingenuity as handmaidens to war—not as ministering to the amenities or luxuries of peace. In other words, it gave, in review, a complete array of the heaviest heavy armor of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries—some thirty suits, standing cap-à-pie—illustrating the period when almost the entire frame of the man militant was encased in metal plates; when, consequently, to fall in battle was but too much after the fashion of Lucifer—never to rise again, unless as a prisoner, or unless assisted from mid mêlée by the smart hands of some sturdy squire, and thus once more restored to the perpendicular on the back of that singular hippogriff, a horse in armor. In this collection of panoplies the variety of helmets was most striking—some singularly extravagant in their steel contour, and all with as little accommodation as possible for the functions of breathing or seeing. A few offered most ludicrous mockeries of the human face divine, a nose alone projecting in Roman ruggedness: truly an iron joke. Among the rest, a German tournament-casque was conspicuous. It belonged to the second half of the seventeenth century, was wholly of silver, and richly ornamented both in carving and indenture. This gem of the collection was, it appears, a present from the empress to the emperor.
The armor of the central and most conspicuous group in the saloon had the like honor. It presented a knight on horseback—man and horse in full panoply, and an attendant man-at-arms. It seemed intended to unite the aspect of lightness with genuine metallic strength. A tradition is connected with it: that at a period when the progressive development of the fatal use of fire-arms, of cannon, arque-buss, petronel, and pistol, had gradually weakened faith in the utility of the chivalric steel coat, Louis XIII. and his potent minister Cardinal de Richelieu were both staunchly true to the olden creed of the olden time, where
"None of your ancient heroes
Ere heard of cannon-ball.
Or knew the force of powder,
To slay their foes withal;"
and it was thought expedient by both that his majesty should have this splendid model-suit made, in order to use influence of the most potent kind against the new martial heterodoxy. The progress of time has proved how vainly the recalcitrant effort was made. The great explosive agent has prevailed—until at length, in our own time, the management of the bouches à feu is the beginning and end of all scientific strategy; and even the cuirassier—the last of the steel-clads—is surmised to be on his last legs.
While thus on one side of this saloon these numerous examples of armor were ranged—a terrible show—and the helmets occupied, in close muster, an encircling shelf, the arme blanche had its honors sustained by a series of radiating groups attached to the walls, in which blades of Italy, Germany, and France, with matchless Toledo rapiers, showed their quality unsheathed. The thrilling simplicity of the cold gleaming steel in these deadly implements was, in many instances, strangely contrasted with the exquisite artistic elaboration of ornament upon their hilts. This anomaly was completed by the adoption, for this purpose, of subjects taken from Holy Writ, and the most tender illustrations of religious charity, sculptured in gold or silver, or tinted in the most delicate enamel. Thus we found [{280}] upon one the for phases of the Prodigal Son's career admirably composed in miniature basso relievo. One sword of this kind could not fail to hold attention. It had been sent to Henry IV. by the pope on his abjuration. On its pommel two metals were inserted—the one having for its subject the Crucifixion, the other the Resurrection. On other metals, combined with the hilt, were represented the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Nativity, the Adoration of the Magi, and the Circumcision. Finally the portrait of Henry himself was introduced supported by Angels.