or beating, combined with delicacy of finish, chasing, and polishing.
The technical processes are interestingly described by the writers of the
old treatises on divers arts. In the earliest of these, by the monk
Theophilus, in the eleventh century, we have most graphic accounts of
processes very similar to those now in use. The naïve monastic
instructor, in his preface, exhorts his followers to honesty and zeal in
their good works. "Skilful in the arts let no one glorify himself," say
Theophilus, "as if received from himself, and not from elsewhere; but
let him be thankful humbly in the Lord, from whom all things are
received." He then advises the craftsman earnestly to study the book
which follows, telling him of the riches of instruction therein to be
found; "you will there find out whatever... Tuscany knows of mosaic
work, or in variety of enamels, whatever Arabia shows forth in work of
fusion, ductility or chasing, whatever Italy ornaments with gold...
whatever France loves in a costly variety of windows; whatever
industrious Germany approves in work of gold, silver or copper, and
iron, of woods and of stones." No wonder the authorities are lost in
conjecture as to the native place of the versatile Theophilus! After
promising all these delightful things, the good old monk continues,
"Act therefore, well intentioned man,... hasten to complete with all the
study of thy mind, those things which are still wanting among the
utensils of the House of the Lord," and he enumerates the various
pieces of church plate in use in the Middle Ages.
Directions are given by Theophilus for the workroom, the benches at
which the smiths are to sit, and also the most minute technical recipes
for "instruments for sculping," for scraping, filing, and so forth, until
the workshop should be fitted with all necessary tools. In those days,
artists began at the very beginning. There were no "Windsor and
Newtons," no nice makers of dividers and T-squares, to whom one
could apply; all implements must be constructed by the man who
contemplated using them.
We will see how Theophilus proceeds, after he has his tools in
readiness, to construct a chalice. First, he puts the silver in a crucible,
and when it has become fluid, he turns it into a mould in which there is
wax (this is evidently the "cire perdu" process familiar to casters of
every age), and then he says, "If by some negligence it should happen
that the melted silver be not whole, cast it again until it is whole." This
process of casting would apply equally to all metals.
Theophilus instructs his craftsman how to make the handles of the
chalice as follows: "Take wax, form handles with it, and grave upon
them dragons or animals or birds, or leaves--in whatever manner you
may wish. But on the top of each handle place a little wax, round like a
slender candle, half a finger in length,... this wax is called the funnel....
Then take some clay and cover carefully the handle, so that the hollows
of the sculpture may be filled up.... Afterwards place these moulds near
the coals, that when they have become warm you may pour out the wax.
Which being turned out, melt the silver,... and cast into the same place
whence you poured out the wax. And when they have become cold
remove the clay." The solid silver handles are found inside, one hardly
need say.
In casting in the "cire perdu" process, Benvenuto Cellini warns you to
beware lest you break your crucible--"just as you've got your silver
nicely molten," he says, "and are pouring it into the mould, crack goes
your crucible, and all your work and time and pains are lost!" He
advises wrapping it in stout cloths.
The process of repoussé work is also much the same to-day as it has
always been. The metal is mounted on cement and the design partly
beaten in from the outside; then the cement is melted out, and the
design treated in more detail from the inside. Theophilus tells us how to
prepare a silver vessel to be beaten with a design. After giving a recipe
for a sort of pitch, he says, "Melt this composition and fill the vial to
the top. And when it has become cold, portray... whatever you wish,
and taking a slender ductile instrument, and a small hammer, design
that which you have portrayed around it by striking lightly." This
process is practically, on a larger scale, what Cellini describes as that of
"minuterie." Cellini praises Caradosso beyond all others in this work,
saying "it was just in this very getting of the gold so equal all over, that
I never knew a man to beat Caradosso!" He tells how important this
equality of surface is, for
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