Here also was the blade of a different man, and of a different import, once grasped by the strong hand of Charles XII. Of Sweden, vigorous for cut, or subtly tempered for trust [thrust?]. No mincing ornament of delicate tracery embellished its hilt; but it was appropriately wreathed with oak foliage in iron, and it bore an interlaced cipher of C's, surmounted by the words, Soli Deo gloria.
This weapon,
"A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh,"
was worn by Charles at Bender, and was given by him to General Mayenfelt. It was presented to the Emperor Louis Napoleon by the present King of Sweden.
Associated with these specimens of the arme blanche were well-preserved examples of the cross-bow and earlier invented fire-arms, with their attendant accoutrements; the whole forming an extremely rich set of illustrations of the centuries to which it more especially referred.
Take it for all in all, this room was pregnant with suggestion. No extraordinary susceptibility of imagination was required for one lingering over its relics to shadow forth fearful episodes without number of tale or history connected with these crowded weapons of slaughter.
Independent of this splendid collection of arms, there were many others among the miscellanea of the Exhibition. By far the finest belong to the Marquis of Hertford, figuring conspicuously in the chamber specially devoted to chefs-d'-oeuvres contributed from that nobleman's collection; and evidencing that it was not alone on masterpieces of painting that it could depend for its well-merited celebrity. The most prominent arms here were Circassian helmets and sabres, all fresh in brilliant preservation, as if they had just come from the anvil or workshop; the former more particularly remarkable for their exquisite inlaid golden tracery, the latter for their gorgeous richness of minute carving. These, with many other specimens of Oriental ornament—creeses, poniards, or scimitars, here enclosed in glass cases—almost compelled one to the conclusion that in the East there is a more delicately inventive genius for ornamentation than can be found in Europe. This we may again see exemplified in the carpets of Persia, the shawls of Cashmere, and in the muslins of Hindostan, gleaming with fire-fly splendor of metallic foliage.
Having dwelt on the specialties of warlike equipment, the footsteps of the visitor were led to the last of the saloons, and found it dedicated, in almost monumental melancholy, to reminiscences of Polish royalty. Members of the Czartoriski family, Prince Ladislaus, and the Princess Iza, had furnished forth almost all the contents of the cases, which lined three sides of the apartment. A very copious miscellany of jewelry and ornaments in gold and silver—some singular for their artistic beauty, and others for their quaint antiquity—was here to be seen. Of special note amongst the former was a charming morceau of jewelry, wherein the letter A, standing for Auguste, was set in diamonds, and supported by two exquisite enamel infant figures, attributed to the hand of Benvenuto Cellini. Also a chain which had belonged to Maria Louisa Gonzaga, enameled and enriched with pearls and precious stones. [{281}] For purity of taste this could impeach with the best French works of its class of the sixteenth century. It was not, however, with a critic's eye, but with painful historic musing, that one contemplated these objects. Here was the ivory sceptre of King Frederick Augustus; and here also a flagolet, in the like ivory, that had been fingered and blown by the same sovereign. Here a great silver goblet, with portraits inserted in its indentures of two kings, Sobieski and Korybut. Here a fair cross of sapphire and a chain of Anne de Jagellon; and here, not the glass slipper, but the crimson-velvet shoe—thick, as if the Chinese model—of good Queen Hedwige. Here was the most splendid of field-marshal's batons—as long again as those of modern times—of ebony enriched with diamonds, and bearing a kingly cipher. Here were a brace of pistols that once had been clasped by the vigorous hand of Saxe; and here a watch and chain recall to mind the poets tribute—
"And freedom shrieked when Kosciusko fell."
These gems and all this orient pearl and gold once gave brilliancy to scenes such as are long since passed away from the festivities of Poland. These veteran sword-blades vainly remind us of the noble race of warriors by whom the reckless Turk was swept back from the walls of Vienna, and the possible conquest of Europe arrested. They all, however, tell the old and ever-to-be-repeated tale. Like other valuables of Royal Association, with which this Musée Retrospectif was in every quarter redundant—forgetting that pretty, ivory-piped cornemuse or bagpipe, knotted with its still unfaded green ribbons, which once made music to the touch of Marie Antoinette—they express with mute melancholy eloquence the stern old apothegm, Sic transit gloria mundi.