Part 68

In abbey-churches of the olden time the Chapter-house was always on the east side of the court. In establishments of secular canons it seems to have been always multisided, with a central pillar to support its groining, and a lofty, conical, lead-covered roof. In these instances it is placed in the open space eastward of the cloister, and is usually approached by a passage from the east side of the cloister court. In the houses of all the other orders the chapter-house is rectangular, even where the church is a cathedral. Usually, then, the chapter-house is a rectangular building on the east side of the cloister, and frequently its longest apsis is east and west--at Durham it has an eastern apsis. It was a large and handsome room, with a good deal of architectural ornament; often the western end of it is divided off as a vestibule or ante-room; and generally it is so large as to be divided into two or three aisles by rows of pillars. Internally, rows of stalls or benches were arranged round the walls for the convent; there was a higher seat at the east end for the abbot or prior, and a desk in the middle from which certain things were read. Every day after the service called Tierce, the convent walked in procession from the choir to the chapter-house, and took their proper places. When the abbot had taken his place, the monks descended one step and bowed; he returned their salutation, and all took their seats. A sentence of the rule of the order was read by one of the novices from the desk, and the abbot, or in his absence, the prior, delivered an explanatory or hortatory sermon upon it; then, from another portion of the book was read the names of brethren, and benefactors, and persons who had been received into fraternity, whose decease had happened on that day of the year; and the convent prayed a _requiescat in pace_ for their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed this life. Then members of the convent who had been guilty of slight breaches of discipline confessed them, kneeling upon a low stool in the middle, and on a bow from the abbot, intimating his remission of the breach, they resumed their seats. If any had a complaint to make against any brother, it was here made and adjudged. Convent business was also transacted. The woodcut gives an example of the kind. Henry VII. had made grants to Westminster Abbey, on condition that the convent performed certain religious services on his behalf; and in order that the services should not fall into disuse, he directed that yearly, at a certain period, the chief justice, or the king's attorney, or the recorder of London, should attend in chapter, and the abstract of the grant and agreement between the king and the convent should be read. The grant which was thus to be read still exists in the British Museum; it is written in a volume superbly bound, with the royal seals attached in silver cases; it is from the illuminated letter at the head of one of the deeds that our woodcut is taken. It rudely represents the chapter-house, with the chief-justice and a group of lawyers on one side, the abbot and convent on the other, and a monk reading the grant from the desk in the midst.

ANNE BOLEYN's GLOVES.

Anne Boleyn was marvellously dainty about her gloves. She had a nail which turned up at the side, and it was the delight of Queen Catharine to make her play at cards, without her gloves, in order that the deformity might disgust King Hal. The good Queen Bess was extravagant, fastidious, and capricious in the extreme, about her gloves. She used to display them to advantage in playing the virginal, and gloves at that time were expensive articles.

DELLA ROBBIA WARE.

Luca della Robbia, born in 1388, was an eminent sculptor in marble and bronze, and worked both at Florence and at Rimini. Having abandoned his original employment for that of modelling in terra cotta, he succeeded, after many experiments, in making a white enamel, with which he coated his works, and thus rendered them durable. Vasari writes of him, "che faceva l'opere di terra quasi eterne." His chief productions are Madonnas, Scripture subjects, figures, and architectural ornaments: they are by far the finest works ever executed in pottery. He adorned the Italian churches with tiles, as well as with altar-pieces, in terra cotta enamelled; and he is the founder of a school which produced works not much inferior to his own. The "Petit Chateau de Madrid," in the Bois de Boulogne, near Paris, received the appellation of "Chateau de Fayence," from having been ornamented with enamelled tiles, the work of an Italian artist, named Girolamo della Robbia, a grand nephew of Luca, whom Francis I. brought from Italy. This chateau is now wholly destroyed. The tiles seem to have been introduced into portions of the architectural composition, rather as accessory ornaments than as a "lining" or revetement of the walls. Analogous ornaments, the work of Luca de Maiano, 1521, were to be seen in the old gate, Whitehall, and at Hampton Court.

Luca della Robbia sometimes, though rarely, used a coloured instead of white enamel in his compositions. The above cut represents the altar-piece of San Miniato, near Florence, by him. The ground is blue, the figures white, the fruits, &c., gold colour, and the garlands green.

VOLCANIC ERUPTION IN JAPAN.

The peninsula of Wountsendake, and the greater part of Kewsew, bristle with volcanic mountains, some extinct, others still acting as safety-valves to the incomprehensible excitements of mother Earth; but of all the manifestations of her internal throes and torment, and their consequent desolation inflicted on the habitations of her children, that of 1792 was the most terrible for ages before.

"On the eighteenth day of the first month of that year," says the _Annals of Japan_, "the summit of the mountain was seen to crumble suddenly, and a thick smoke rose in the air. On the sixth of the following month there was an eruption in a spur on the eastern slope of the mountain. On the second of the third month an earthquake shook the whole island. At Simabara, the nearest town to the mountain, all the houses were thrown down, amidst a general terror and consternation, the shocks following each other with frightful rapidity. Wountsendake incessantly sent forth a hail-storm of stones, showers of ashes, and streams of lava, which devastated the country for many leagues round. At length, on the first day of the fourth month, there was a new commotion, which increased in intensity from moment to moment.

"Simabara was now a vast heap of ruins. Enormous blocks of rock, tumbling from the top of the mountain, crushed and ground to atoms all beneath them. Thunder rolled overhead, and dreadful sounds rumbled beneath the feet at one and the same time. All of a sudden, after an interval of calm, when men thought the scourge had passed over, the northern spur of Wountsendake, the Moikenyamma, burst forth with a tremendous detonation. A vast portion of that mountain was blown into the air. Colossal masses fell into the sea. A stream of boiling water rushed forth foaming from the cracks of this new volcano, and sped to the ocean, which at the same time advanced and flooded the land."

Then was seen a sight never seen before, intensifying the terror of the innumerable witnesses of that terrible day, which might well seem a Day of Judgment come. From the conflict of the boiling waters of the volcano with the cold waters of the tempestuous ocean, suddenly mingled, there arose waterspouts which ravaged the land in their devouring gyrations.

The disasters caused by this accumulation of catastrophes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, waterspouts, inundations, united together, exceed belief. Not a single house of Simabara and its environs was spared: only the citadel remained, whose Cyclopean walls were formed of gigantic blocks of stone. The convulsions of nature on that day so changed the coast-line, that the most experienced mariners could not recognise its once familiar shape and bendings.

Fifty-three thousand persons perished on that fatal day.

ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF MULGRAVE.

The first diving bell was nothing but a very large kettle, suspended by ropes, with the mouth downwards, and planks to sit on fixed in the middle of its concavity. The Greeks at Toledo, in 1588, made an experiment before the Emperor Charles V. with it, when they descended with a lighted candle to a considerable depth. In 1683 William Phipps, the son of a blacksmith, formed a project for unloading a rich Spanish ship, sunk at Hispaniola; Charles II. gave him a ship, with every necessary for the undertaking; but being unsuccessful, Phipps returned in great poverty. He then endeavoured to procure another vessel, but failing, he got a subscription, to which the Duke of Albemarle contributed. In 1687, Phipps set sail in a ship of 200 tons, having previously engaged to divide the profits according to the twenty shares of which the subscription consisted. At first all his labours proved fruitless, but at length, when he seemed almost to despair, he was fortunate enough to bring up so much treasure that he returned to England with L200,000 sterling. Of this sum he got about L20,000, and the Duke of Albemarle L90,000. Phipps was knighted by the king, and laid the foundation of the present house of Mulgrave.

SHRINE OF ST. SEBALD AT NUREMBURG.

The city of Nuremberg--the birthplace of Albert Durer--is enriched with many works of high art. The most remarkable is the bronze shrine of St. Sebald, the work of Peter Vischer and his five sons, which still stands in all its beauty in the elegant church dedicated to the saint. The sketch on next page is a correct representation of it.

The shrine encloses, amid the most florid Gothic architecture, the oaken chest encased with silver plates, containing the body of the venerated saint: this rests on an altar decorated with basso-relievos, depicting his miracles. The architectural portion of this exquisite shrine partakes of the characteristics of the _Rennaissance_ forms engrafted on the mediaeval, by the influence of Italian art. Indeed, the latter school is visible as the leading agent throughout the entire composition. The figures of the Twelve Apostles and others placed around it, scarcely seem to belong to German art; they are quite worthy of the best _Transalpine_ master. The grandeur, breadth, and repose of these wonderful statues, cannot be excelled. Vischer seems to have completely freed his mind from the conventionalities of his native schools: we have here none of the constrained, "crumpled draperies," the home studies for face and form so strikingly present in nearly all the works of art of this era, but noble figures of the men elevated above the earthly standard by companionship with the Saviour, exhibiting their high destiny by a noble bearing, worthy of the solemn and glorious duties they were devoted to fulfil. We gaze on these figures as we do on the works of Giotto and Fra Angelico, until we feel human nature may lose nearly all of its debasements before the "mortal coil" is "shuffled off," and that mental goodness may shine through and glorify its earthly tabernacle, and give an assurance in time present of the superiorities of an hereafter. Dead, indeed, must be the soul that can gaze on such works unmoved, appealing, as they do, to our noblest aspirations, and vindicating humanity from its fallen position, by asserting its innate, latent glories. Here we feel the truth of the scriptural phrase--"In his own image made he them."

The memory of Peter Vischer is deservedly honoured by his townsmen. The street in which his house is situated, like that in which Durer's stands, has lost its original name, and is now only known as Peter Vischer's Strasse; but these two artists are the only ones thus distinguished. Vischer was born in 1460, and died in 1529. He was employed by the warden of St. Sebald's, and magistrate of Nuremberg, Sebald Schreyer, to construct this work in honour of his patron saint; he began it in 1506, and finished it in 1519. Thirteen years of labour were thus devoted to its completion, for which he received seven hundred and seventy florins. "According to this tradition, Vischer was miserably paid for this great work of labour and art; and he has himself recorded, in an inscription upon the monument, that 'he completed it for the praise of God Almighty alone, and the honour of St. Sebald, Prince of Heaven, by the aid of pious persons, paid by their voluntary contributions.'" The elaboration of the entire work is marvellous; it abounds with fanciful figures, seventy-two in number, disposed among the ornaments, or acting as supporters to the general composition. Syrens hold candelabra at the angles; and the centre has an air of singular lightness and grace. It is supported at the base by huge snails. At the western end there is a small bronze statue of Vischer; he holds his chisel in his hand, and in his workman's dress, with capacious leather apron, stands unaffectedly forth as a true, honest labourer, appealing only to such sympathies as are justly due to one who laboured so lovingly and so well.

A GREAT RESULT FROM TRIVIAL CIRCUMSTANCES.

That magnificent institution of active benevolence, Guy's Hospital, is one among a numerous list of instances where trifling events have produced most disproportionate consequences.

Thomas Guy, of whom the above is a sketch, taken from an old print, was the son of Thomas Guy an Anabaptist, lighterman and coal-dealer, in Horsleydown, Southwark. He was put apprentice in 1660 to a bookseller in the porch of Mercer's Chapel, and set up trade with a stock of about two hundred pounds, in the house that forms the angle between Cornhill and Lombard-street. The English Bibles being at that time very badly printed, Mr. Guy engaged with others in a scheme for printing them in Holland and importing them; but this being put a stop to, he contracted with the University of Oxford for their privilege of printing them, and carried on a great Bible trade for many years to considerable advantage. He thus began to accumulate money, and his gains rested in his hands, for being a single man, and very penurious, his expenses were very trifling. His custom was to dine on his shop counter, with no other table-cloth than an old newspaper; he was also as little nice in regard to his dress. The bulk of his fortune, however, was acquired by the less reputable purchase of seamen's tickets during Queen Anne's wars, and by the South Sea stock in the memorable year 1720.

In proof of what we said at the outset, it is a fact that the public are indebted to a most trifling incident for the greatest part of his immense fortunes being applied to charitable uses. Guy had a maid-servant whom he agreed to marry; and preparatory to his nuptials he had ordered the pavement before his door to be mended as far as a particular stone which he marked. The maid, while her master was out, innocently looking on the paviours at work, saw a broken place they had not repaired, and mentioned it to them; but they told her that Mr. Guy had desired them not to go so far. "Well," says she, "do you mend it; tell him I bade you, and I know he will not be angry." It happened, however, that the poor girl presumed too much on her influence over her wary lover, with whom the charge of a few shillings extraordinary turned the scale against her, for Guy, enraged to find his orders exceeded, renounced the matrimonial scheme, and built hospitals in his old age. In 1707 he built and furnished three wards on the north side of the outer court of St. Thomas's Hospital, and gave one hundred pounds to it annually for eleven years preceding the erection of his own hospital.

Sometime before his death he erected the stately gate with the large houses on each side, at the expense of about three thousand pounds. He was seventy-six years of age when he formed the design of building the hospital near St. Thomas's, which bears his name. The charge of erecting this vast pile amounted to L18,793, besides L219,499 which he left to endow it, and he just lived to see it roofed in.

He erected and endowed an almshouse and library at Tamworth, the place of his mother's nativity, and which he represented in Parliament. It contains fourteen poor men and women, and the fund provides also for the apprenticing of poor children. He also bequeathed four hundred pounds a-year to Christ's Hospital.

Mr. Guy died December 17th, 1724 in the eighty-first year of his age, and his will bears date September 4th, in the same year.

PHAROS AT ALEXANDRIA.

To render the harbour safe of approach at all times, Ptolemy Soter, who, on the death of Alexander, obtained the government of Egypt, determined on erecting a lighthouse on the eastern extremity of the isle of Pharos, the celebrity of which has given the same name to all other lighthouses.

This "pharos" was in height 450 feet, and could be seen at a distance of 100 miles. It was built of several stories, decreasing in dimension towards the top, where fires were lighted in a species of lantern. The ground-floor and the two next above it were hexagonal; the fourth was a square with a round tower at each angle; the fifth floor was circular, continued to the top, to which a winding staircase conducted. In the upper galleries some mirrors were arranged in such a manner as to show the ships and objects at sea for some considerable distance. On the top a fire was constantly kept, to direct sailors into the bay, which was dangerous and difficult of access.

The whole of this masterpiece of art was exquisitely wrought in stone, and adorned with columns, balustrades, and ornaments, worked in the finest marble. To protect the structure from the ocean storms, it was surrounded entirely by a sea wall. Ancient writers say the building of this tower cost 800 talents, which is equivalent to L165,000, if Attic talents; but if Alexandrian, double that sum.

The building was not completed during the reign of the first Ptolemy, but was finished in the reign of his son Ptolemy Philadelphus, who put this inscription upon it:--

"King Ptolemy, to the Gods the Saviours, for the benefit of sailors."

Sostratus the architect, wishing to claim all the glory of the building, engraved his own name on the solid marble, and afterwards coated it with cement. Thus, when time had decayed the mortar Ptolemy's name disappeared, and the following inscription became visible:--

"Sostratus the Cnidian, to the Gods the Saviours, for the benefit of sailors."

Of this remarkable tower not a vestige remains, and history gives us no further information than we have here: of its gradual decay or of its violent destruction we have no record; but that such a structure as described stood there, there can be not a shadow of doubt, from the fact that all buildings for like purposes among the Greeks and Romans derive their designation from this.

SEPULCHRAL VASES OF ANCIENT EGYPT.

In ancient Egypt terra-cotta pottery was extensively made use of for vases or jars to hold the entrails of the dead. In order to preserve the body effectually, it was necessary to remove the softer portions, such as the thoracic and abdominal viscera, and these were embalmed separately. In some instances they were returned into the stomach, with wax models of four deities, commonly called the four genii of the Ament or Hades. It was, however, usual in the embalmment of the wealthier classes to soak them carefully in the requisite preparations, tie them up in neat cylindrical packets, and deposit them in vases having the shape of the four genii. The bodies of these deities, which were usually represented as mummied, formed the bodies of the vases, and were cylindrical below and rounded above. The mouths of the jars were sometimes countersunk to receive the lower part of the covers which fitted into them like a plug. The jar of the first genius, whose name was _Am-set_, "the devourer of filth," held the stomach and large intestines, and was formed at the top like a human head. This genius typified, or presided over the southern quarter of the compass. He was the son of Osiris or of Phtha Socharis Osiris, the pygmean god of Memphis. The second vase of the series was in the shape of the genius Hapi, the "concealed." Its cover was shaped like the head of a cynocephalus, and it held the smaller viscera. This genius presided over the north, and was also the son of Osiris. The third vase was that of the genius Trautmutf, "the adorer of his mother." We here annex an engraving of it. It had a cover in shape of the head of a jackal, and held the lungs and heart. This genius presided over the East, and was brother of the preceding. The last was that of the genius Kebhsnuf, the refresher of his brethren. It had a cover shaped like the head of a sparrow-hawk, and held the liver and gall-bladder. This genius presided over the west, and was also brother of the preceding. Three vases of a set, in the British Museum, have all human-shaped heads, and are provided with handles at the sides of the bodies. Specimens of a very unusual kind are also to be found in the same collection, having the whole body formed without a cover, in the shape of a dome above, and surmounted by a rudely modelled figure of a jackal, couchant upon a gateway, formed of a detached piece. The entrails were introduced by the rectangular orifice in the upper part. In some other instances the covers appear to have been secured by cords passing through them to the body of the vase. When secured, the vases were placed in a wooden box, which was laid on a sledge and carried to the sepulchre, where they were often taken out and placed, two on each side of the coffin. It was only the poorer classes that used pottery for these purposes. The viscera of high officers of state were embalmed in jars of fine white limestone, and the still more valuable oriental alabasters or arragonite, obtained from the quarries of Tel El Amarna, or the ancient Alabastron.

THE SACRO CATINO.

The celebrated "Sacro Catino," part of the spoil taken by the Genoese at the storming of Cesarea, which was believed to be cut from a single emerald, and had, according to tradition, been presented by the Queen of Sheba to Solomon, was for ages the pride and glory of Genoa, and an object of the greatest devotional reverence at the yearly exhibitions, which were attended with great pomp and ceremony. Such was the opinion of its intrinsic value, that on many occasions the republic borrowed half a million of ducats upon the security of this precious relic. When the French armies, during the first Revolution, plundered Italy of its treasures, it was sent with other spoils to Paris. Upon examination, it was, instead of emerald, proved to be composed of glass, similar to that found in the Egyptian tombs, of which country it was, no doubt, the manufacture. At the Restoration the Sacro Catino was returned in a broken state, and now lies shorn of all its honours, a mere broken glass vessel, in the sacristy of the Church of San Lorenzo.

DINNER PARTY IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.