LENT BY HER MAJESTY AND THE BOARD OF WORKS.

Tapestry;ground crimson, diapered with foliage; design, within a broad arch, a white panel, figured with Diana, and about her flowers, birds, and animals, dead and alive. At the right corner, on the lower hem, is inscribed, “Neilson, ex. 1786.” French, from the Gobelin factory.

Diana holds by a long blue ribbon a greyhound; below, are other two hounds and two little naked boys, of whom one is about to dart an arrow; the other, to shoot one from a bow at Diana herself, who, with her shadow cast upon a cloud, is holding her favourite dog by its blue string: at her feet lie her own bow and arrows. This piece is graciously lent by Her Majesty, and is a favourable specimen of the Gobelins royal manufactory, over which the Neilsons, father and son, presided, fromA.D.1749 till 1788. Most likely this piece was wrought by the elder Neilson, who, as well as his son, worked with the “basse lisse,” or low horizontal frame, as distinguished from the “haute lisse,” or high vertical one.

TapestryWall-hanging; design, a landscape with the figure of a man. French, 17th century.

The landscape is somewhat wild, but nicely rendered. In the foreground, sitting on a stone, we have a youth with both his hands upon a classic-shaped vase, standing between his feet. In the background areseen a few goats; and further on still, a building with pillars, very likely a well. This fancy piece is surrounded by a border figured with ornamentation, and though it be small and made to fit some panel in a room, is a good specimen of its time, and seems to have come from the same hands that designed and wrought the Diogenes pieces.

Tapestry;design, within a crimson border ornamented, in white, with scroll-work after a classic character, a large mythologic, perhaps Bacchanal subject. French, 17th century.

Upheld by pilasters and columns wreathed with branches of the vine, we see a wide entablature coloured crimson and blue, figured with tripods, vases, and other fanciful arabesque ornamentation, and amid these, heathen gods and goddesses, centaurs, birds, and groups of satyrs. Below, and between the pilasters and columns, a male figure is playing the double pipe, women are carrying fruits in dishes, another is dancing, and some high personages feasting at a table, with some men looking on. Lowermost of all is another scene, in which we have little naked boys, satyrs carrying grapes, and an ass laden with them, and other satyrs pouring into vases the red wine which they are getting from a fountain brim full of it. A border of a crimson ground figured in places with full-faced heads, and all over with small figures, the draperies of which are shaded in gold now quite black, and arabesques after a classic form, goes round the whole piece, which is fellow to another showing the labours of Hercules, in this collection. In the tapestry before us, all the subjects are so Bacchanalian that we must suppose that the designer meant to set forth the ways of the god of wine. Like the drawing in the Hercules piece, the drawing here is good; but the piece itself is in a somewhat bad condition.

TapestryWall-hanging; subject, the labours of Hercules. Flemish, late 17th century. 21 feet 6 inches by 16 feet.

This large piece is divided into three broad horizontal bands; on the first of these, upon a dark blue ground, amid arabesques and monsters after classic models, are observable the infant Hercules stranglingthe two serpents; in the middle, a female holding two ropes, and about her little boys carrying tall reeds, which at top expand into a cup full of fire, as she stands upright upon a pedestal over a doorway, in the tympanum of which, within a round hollow, is the bust of a man having a wine-jug on one side, and a dish filled with fire on the other; still further to the right, there is, within an oval, a child reading at a three-legged desk, and seated on the bending bough of a tree, at the foot of which is a book, and a comic mask. On the second band, the ground of which is light blue, within the doorway, coloured green, stands Hercules cross-legged, bearing in his right hand his club, and with the left upholding the lion-skin mantle. To the right, Hercules is seen wrestling; next, Hercules fighting the Nemean lion with his club; and then the hero shooting with his bow and arrows the Stymphalian birds, half human in their shape: to the left, Hercules is beheld strangling with his own hands the Nemean lion; then he is seen with this dead beast upon his shoulders as he carries it to Eurystheus; and lastly, he is shown loaded with a blue globe, marked with the signs of the zodiac, upon his back. On the third band, which is crimson, we find Hercules, leading by a chain the many-headed Cerberus from the lower world, having along with him Athena, who is seen with clasped hands, and Theseus, who is clad in armour with a reversed dart in his hand; in front lies a dead man. The middle of this band is filled in with architectural scroll-work, upon which are seated two half-bust winged figures, one male, the other female, and hanging between them a shield figured with the rape of Europa. After this central piece we come to the scene on the journey into exile of Hercules and his wife Deianira: the centaur Nessus is carrying the lady in his arms over the river Evenus, and while doing so insults her, whereupon Hercules lets fly an arrow, on hearing his wife’s screams, and shoots Nessus to the heart. The whole is enclosed within a border of a crimson ground, figured with arabesques and heads of a classic character. The third band has a hermes or terminal post at each end; and, curiously enough, in the top band, and resting on the foliations, are four nests of the pelican, billing its breast and feeding its young ones with its blood; besides this we see in places two lions rampant, and regularly languedgules, being caressed by a sort of harpy: all of which would lead us to think that in the bird and the animals we have the armorial charge upon the shield, and its supporters, of the noble, but now unknown, owner for whom this piece of tapestry was originally wrought. Its fellow-piece, figured not so much with the triumphs as the festive joys of Bacchus, is in this collection.

TapestryWall-hanging; ground, white; subject, the young Bacchus on a cloud, with a cup of wine in one hand, and the thyrsus-staff in the other; and all about, his symbols. French, or Gobelin, 18th century.

Within a rather broad panelled arch, wine-red in its tone, is figured the young Bacchus with a couple of thyrsus-staves, crossed saltire-wise above him: below, is a fountain with an animal’s face, from the mouth of which runs red wine, and by it two little satyrs playing with tigers, into whose open maws they are squeezing the juice of the purple grape. Within a tablet in the higher part are figured two letters M. M. seemingly the ciphers of the individual for whom this piece was woven.

TapestryWall-hanging; ground, white; subject, Venus surrounded by her emblems. French, or Gobelin, 18th century.

This is a fellow-piece to the foregoing one, and arranged in the same manner. Riding on a cloud, Venus holds a small dart, and leans upon a swan, with a Cupid by her feet. Like the other piece, it has the cipher M. M.

TapestryWall-hanging; ground, mostly white; subject, shepherds and shepherdesses sacrificing to Pan. French, or Gobelin, 18th century.

This large fine piece has a very cheerful tone, and the background is so managed as to be very lightsome in its skies, and hills, and water. In many parts of the costumes, and the vegetation, the colouring is warm without being dauby or garish.

TapestryWall-hanging; subject, Melchizedek bringing bread and wine to Abram after his victory. Flemish, late 17th century.

On a tablet at the top of the piece is this inscription:—“Sodomâ expugnatâ Lot capitur. Abram illum recepit. Rex Melchizedek victori Abram offert panem et vinum.” As the reader will easily bring to mind, the subject as well as the inscription are borrowed from the fourteenth chapter of Genesis. Supposing that Sodom, after the overthrow by Abram’s night attack of the four kings, had been retaken, and his nephew Lot and his substance freed from the hands of the four conquered princes, the artist has chosen that point of time in the story, when Melchizedek, the King of Salem and the Priest of the Most High, went out to meet Abram as he was coming from the slaughter; and bringing forth bread and wine, blessed him.The two principal personages occupy the centre of the foreground. Crowned as a king and wearing a costly sword, Melchizedek comes forth with outstretched right hand to welcome Abram, from whom he is separated by a highly ornamented tall vase full of wine. Behind this King of Salem one of his own serving men, who carries on his shoulders a basket full of food, is coming down the wide staircase from which his royal master has just issued, while outside a doorway, under an upper portico in the same palace, stand two men gazing on the scene below them. On the other side of the vase, Abram, holding a long staff in his right hand, is stepping forwards toward Melchizedek, whom he salutes with his lowered left hand, and behind him a second servant of Melchizedek has just set upon the ground a large hamper full of flat loaves of bread. A little higher in the piece, and somewhat to the left of this domestic, a group of soldiers are quenching their thirst gathered about an open tun of wine, which they drink out of a wide bowl; hastening towards the same spot, as if from an archway, flows a stream of other military men. Amid the far-off landscape may be seen banners flying, and beneath them all the turmoils of a battle raging at its height. To the right, the standard-bearers and some of the vanquished are seen in headlong flight.The deep golden-grounded border is parted at bottom by classic monstrous hermæ, male and female, each wearing a pair of wings by its ears. The spaces between these grotesques are filled in with femalefigures, mostly symbolizing vices. “Violentia” is figured by a youthful woman, who, with a sheathed sword by her side, is driving before her a captive young man, whom she holds by the cords which tie his hands behind him, and whom she hurries onwards by the blows from a thick staff that she wields in her uplifted right hand. “Depredatio,” with her fingers ending at their tips in long sharp ravenous nails, is riding astride a lion. “Gratitudo” is a gentle young maiden, who is seated with a bird in her lap, a stork, which she seems to be fondling. “Pugna,” or brawling, is shown by two middle-aged women of the lower class. With their dishevelled hair hanging all about their shoulders, they are in the height of a fight, and the woman with a bunch of keys hanging from her girdle has overcome the other, and is tugging at one of her long locks. “Tyrannis” is an old haggish female with dog-like feet, and she brandishes a sword; almost every one of the other women on the border has, curiously enough, one foot resembling that of an animal. In several parts of the composition besides the border, in the warp and for shading, golden thread has been woven in, but so scantily employed, and the gold itself of such a debased bad quality, that the metal from being tarnished to quite a dull black tone is hardly discernible.The costume, like the scenery and buildings, has nothing of an oriental character about it, but is fashioned after an imagined classic model.

The two principal personages occupy the centre of the foreground. Crowned as a king and wearing a costly sword, Melchizedek comes forth with outstretched right hand to welcome Abram, from whom he is separated by a highly ornamented tall vase full of wine. Behind this King of Salem one of his own serving men, who carries on his shoulders a basket full of food, is coming down the wide staircase from which his royal master has just issued, while outside a doorway, under an upper portico in the same palace, stand two men gazing on the scene below them. On the other side of the vase, Abram, holding a long staff in his right hand, is stepping forwards toward Melchizedek, whom he salutes with his lowered left hand, and behind him a second servant of Melchizedek has just set upon the ground a large hamper full of flat loaves of bread. A little higher in the piece, and somewhat to the left of this domestic, a group of soldiers are quenching their thirst gathered about an open tun of wine, which they drink out of a wide bowl; hastening towards the same spot, as if from an archway, flows a stream of other military men. Amid the far-off landscape may be seen banners flying, and beneath them all the turmoils of a battle raging at its height. To the right, the standard-bearers and some of the vanquished are seen in headlong flight.

The deep golden-grounded border is parted at bottom by classic monstrous hermæ, male and female, each wearing a pair of wings by its ears. The spaces between these grotesques are filled in with femalefigures, mostly symbolizing vices. “Violentia” is figured by a youthful woman, who, with a sheathed sword by her side, is driving before her a captive young man, whom she holds by the cords which tie his hands behind him, and whom she hurries onwards by the blows from a thick staff that she wields in her uplifted right hand. “Depredatio,” with her fingers ending at their tips in long sharp ravenous nails, is riding astride a lion. “Gratitudo” is a gentle young maiden, who is seated with a bird in her lap, a stork, which she seems to be fondling. “Pugna,” or brawling, is shown by two middle-aged women of the lower class. With their dishevelled hair hanging all about their shoulders, they are in the height of a fight, and the woman with a bunch of keys hanging from her girdle has overcome the other, and is tugging at one of her long locks. “Tyrannis” is an old haggish female with dog-like feet, and she brandishes a sword; almost every one of the other women on the border has, curiously enough, one foot resembling that of an animal. In several parts of the composition besides the border, in the warp and for shading, golden thread has been woven in, but so scantily employed, and the gold itself of such a debased bad quality, that the metal from being tarnished to quite a dull black tone is hardly discernible.

The costume, like the scenery and buildings, has nothing of an oriental character about it, but is fashioned after an imagined classic model.

TapestryWall-hanging; subject, the Progress of Avarice. Flemish, middle of the 17th century.

Up above within the border of this large piece is a tablet bearing this inscription:—“Semper eget sitiens mediis ceu Tantalus undisInter anhelatas semper avarus opes.”Beginning at the top left hand of the subject represented, we see a murky sort of vapour streaked by a flash of red lightning. Amid this brownish darkness, peopled with horrid little phantoms and small fantastic sprites, we discover a diminutive figure of Death wielding a long-handled curiously-headed scythe.Just below is a man pointing with his right hand up to Death, and with his left hand to a little harpy before him; behind him stands afigure with two heads, one a woman’s, the other a man’s, set together Januswise. Lower down, and of a much larger size, are three male figures, one a youth well clad, were it not for his ragged pantaloons, the next an old man wearing sandals and bearing in his right hand what looks like a reliquary glazed and coloured red, while in his left he holds two unfolded scrolls, the upper one of which is illuminated with a building like a castle, by the side of which stands a man, over whose head is the tau or T, with a bell hanging under it—the symbols of St. Anthony of Egypt.Beside the last personage stands the figure of a monk-like form, clasping in both hands a pair of beads or rosary. Next we have, half leaning from out her seat placed upon a car, and bending over an open chest, into which she is dropping golden pieces of money from her claw-like fingers, a female form with hideous wings and vulture feet, such as harpies have. The chariot drawn by a wyvern-like animal, with its fiery long tongue thrust out, has knocked down an elderly man, who, from the tonsure on his grey head, would seem to be a priest, and its wheel is going to crush a youth upon the ground, while the wyvern’s outstretched claws are about to gripe a ghastly cut-off head. Hanging on the mouldings of this car are empty money-bags, crumpled-up deeds, and a wide-open account book. Alongside of this fiendish hag trips a flaunting courtier; before her rides Midas with ass’s ears to his bloated face, unkempt locks falling down its sides, a royal diadem upon his head, and a withered branch in his hand; and, as if bound to her chariot, walks a king, having with him his queen. Before, but on one side, paces another crowned prince on horseback, while full in front rides a third king carrying in his arms a naked woman.Last of all and heading, as it were, this progress of Avarice, sits a female figure sidewise on a horse, which she has just reined up. In her right hand she bears a red standard emblazoned with a monkey on all fours, sharp clawed, and something which may be meant for gold pieces.Flying down from the skies comes an angel, who, with his outstretched right hand, seems to stay the march of the frightful woman in the chariot with her kingly rout, and forbid its onward progress.In the far-off landscape we discover a group of soldiers, near whom lies stretched out on the ground a dead body, upon which an angel gazes. Far to the right we find an open building, intended, may be, for a church; near it are two military men in armour; inside, a third seems holding out his hand as if he were leaving his offerings on the altar there. Outside, and not far from this same building, may be seenother four men, two of them pilgrims, of whom one kneeling before another looks as if he were making his confession.The broad border to this large piece is designed with elaborate care. At each of the two lower corners it is figured with the one same subject, which consists in a group of three naked winged boys or angels; of these one holds a short-stemmed cup or chalice, from out of which rises a host or large round altar bread, showing marked on it our Lord hanging upon the cross, between the B. V. Mary and St. John Evangelist; a second angel kneeling has in his hands an uplifted crown of thorns, while lying behind him are two books; and the third angel shows us a tablet written with the Greek letters Α Ω. All the rest of this frame-work is filled in with flowers, fruits, birds, and snakes. Of the flowers the most frequent are the fritillary, the rose, the lily, the amaryllis, poppies, white campanulas, large daisies, fleurs-de-lis, and corn-flowers. Among the fruits we see the pomegranate, of which some are split, pears, Indian corn, apples, plums, and figs. The birds are mostly parrots, woodpeckers, storks, cocks, doves, and some other birds of the smaller kinds. In places may be discovered a knot of snakes coiled about a garland made of yellow leaves.The allegory of the piece is read with ease. The progress of Avarice is headed by Wickedness, who carries aloft her blood-stained flag, emblazoned with the monkey, the emblem of moral ugliness and mischief. Hard upon the heels of Wickedness comes a lecherous potentate, the type of immorality. The crowned heads, whether mounted or on foot, that come next have for their brother-companion Midas, the emblem of the sensual miser’s greed of gold, to remind us how kings, nay queens too, sometimes thirst for their subjects’ wealth to gratify their evil wishes; and the gay young man behind them, coming by the chariot’s side, personates those courtiers who are reckless of what they do to help their royal masters in their love for lucre. Next we are told what harpy-avarice will not waver to execute while led on by wicked sovereigns. Look at those about and beneath her chariot: from them we learn that she beggars the nobility, and leaves them to walk through the world in rags; she destroys churches, and, when lacking other means for her fell purpose, will shed innocent blood and behead her opponents. But here below, Avarice and those who lead her on, though they be kings and queens, will have their day: Time will bring them to a stand. The rifled altar will be ornamented again, the rites of worship restored, and hospitals reopened. While an angel from heaven stops the progress of Avarice, high up in the eastern sky a thunder-storm is gathering; and on earth a man, whilst pointingwith one hand to grim Death, armed with his scythe, amid a cloud of loathsome winged things flitting around him, with the other that same person warns a harpy that her sister harpy Avarice will soon be overtaken; and just as the heathen Januslike figure close by—emblem of the past, and of a certain future—he also tells her of that just retribution which, by the hands of Death and in another world, will be dealt out to herself and all this miscreant company.It would seem that this piece was wrought to stigmatize the memory of some of those many wanton acts of spoliation perpetrated in France and Belgium during the latter years of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th centuries. Perhaps the clue to the history and import of this fine specimen of the Flemish loom may be found all about the person of that old man, who carries in one hand a reliquary so conspicuously painted red, and in the other two parchment scrolls, upon one of which we find a sort of sketch of some particular spot, with an important edifice on it. By its size and look it seems to be some great hospital, and from the presence there of a man having above his head the letter tau or T and a bell hanging to it, we are given to understand that this building belonged to some brotherhood of St. Anthony, in the service of the sick; and that its suffering inmates were principally those afflicted with erysipelas, a disease then, and even yet, called abroad St. Anthony’s fire, once so pestilential that it often swept away thousands everywhere. Near Vienne, in the South of France, stood a richly-endowed hospital, foundedA.D.1095, chiefly for those suffering under this direful malady. This house belonged to and was administered by Canons Regular of St. Anthony. The town where it stood was Didier-la-Mothe, better known as Bourg S. Antoine. During the troubled times in France this great wealthy hospital, here fitly represented like a town of itself, by those lofty walls and that tall wide gateway, had been plundered: hence, one of its brothers is shown upbraiding Avarice for her evil doings, of which those sad tokens of moneyless purses, well-searched rent-books, and ransacked title-deeds are still dangling on her car. If not all, most, at least, of the persons here figured are meant, as is probable, to be characterized as the likenesses of the very individual victims and the victimizers portrayed upon this tapestry.

Up above within the border of this large piece is a tablet bearing this inscription:—

“Semper eget sitiens mediis ceu Tantalus undisInter anhelatas semper avarus opes.”

“Semper eget sitiens mediis ceu Tantalus undis

Inter anhelatas semper avarus opes.”

Beginning at the top left hand of the subject represented, we see a murky sort of vapour streaked by a flash of red lightning. Amid this brownish darkness, peopled with horrid little phantoms and small fantastic sprites, we discover a diminutive figure of Death wielding a long-handled curiously-headed scythe.

Just below is a man pointing with his right hand up to Death, and with his left hand to a little harpy before him; behind him stands afigure with two heads, one a woman’s, the other a man’s, set together Januswise. Lower down, and of a much larger size, are three male figures, one a youth well clad, were it not for his ragged pantaloons, the next an old man wearing sandals and bearing in his right hand what looks like a reliquary glazed and coloured red, while in his left he holds two unfolded scrolls, the upper one of which is illuminated with a building like a castle, by the side of which stands a man, over whose head is the tau or T, with a bell hanging under it—the symbols of St. Anthony of Egypt.

Beside the last personage stands the figure of a monk-like form, clasping in both hands a pair of beads or rosary. Next we have, half leaning from out her seat placed upon a car, and bending over an open chest, into which she is dropping golden pieces of money from her claw-like fingers, a female form with hideous wings and vulture feet, such as harpies have. The chariot drawn by a wyvern-like animal, with its fiery long tongue thrust out, has knocked down an elderly man, who, from the tonsure on his grey head, would seem to be a priest, and its wheel is going to crush a youth upon the ground, while the wyvern’s outstretched claws are about to gripe a ghastly cut-off head. Hanging on the mouldings of this car are empty money-bags, crumpled-up deeds, and a wide-open account book. Alongside of this fiendish hag trips a flaunting courtier; before her rides Midas with ass’s ears to his bloated face, unkempt locks falling down its sides, a royal diadem upon his head, and a withered branch in his hand; and, as if bound to her chariot, walks a king, having with him his queen. Before, but on one side, paces another crowned prince on horseback, while full in front rides a third king carrying in his arms a naked woman.

Last of all and heading, as it were, this progress of Avarice, sits a female figure sidewise on a horse, which she has just reined up. In her right hand she bears a red standard emblazoned with a monkey on all fours, sharp clawed, and something which may be meant for gold pieces.

Flying down from the skies comes an angel, who, with his outstretched right hand, seems to stay the march of the frightful woman in the chariot with her kingly rout, and forbid its onward progress.

In the far-off landscape we discover a group of soldiers, near whom lies stretched out on the ground a dead body, upon which an angel gazes. Far to the right we find an open building, intended, may be, for a church; near it are two military men in armour; inside, a third seems holding out his hand as if he were leaving his offerings on the altar there. Outside, and not far from this same building, may be seenother four men, two of them pilgrims, of whom one kneeling before another looks as if he were making his confession.

The broad border to this large piece is designed with elaborate care. At each of the two lower corners it is figured with the one same subject, which consists in a group of three naked winged boys or angels; of these one holds a short-stemmed cup or chalice, from out of which rises a host or large round altar bread, showing marked on it our Lord hanging upon the cross, between the B. V. Mary and St. John Evangelist; a second angel kneeling has in his hands an uplifted crown of thorns, while lying behind him are two books; and the third angel shows us a tablet written with the Greek letters Α Ω. All the rest of this frame-work is filled in with flowers, fruits, birds, and snakes. Of the flowers the most frequent are the fritillary, the rose, the lily, the amaryllis, poppies, white campanulas, large daisies, fleurs-de-lis, and corn-flowers. Among the fruits we see the pomegranate, of which some are split, pears, Indian corn, apples, plums, and figs. The birds are mostly parrots, woodpeckers, storks, cocks, doves, and some other birds of the smaller kinds. In places may be discovered a knot of snakes coiled about a garland made of yellow leaves.

The allegory of the piece is read with ease. The progress of Avarice is headed by Wickedness, who carries aloft her blood-stained flag, emblazoned with the monkey, the emblem of moral ugliness and mischief. Hard upon the heels of Wickedness comes a lecherous potentate, the type of immorality. The crowned heads, whether mounted or on foot, that come next have for their brother-companion Midas, the emblem of the sensual miser’s greed of gold, to remind us how kings, nay queens too, sometimes thirst for their subjects’ wealth to gratify their evil wishes; and the gay young man behind them, coming by the chariot’s side, personates those courtiers who are reckless of what they do to help their royal masters in their love for lucre. Next we are told what harpy-avarice will not waver to execute while led on by wicked sovereigns. Look at those about and beneath her chariot: from them we learn that she beggars the nobility, and leaves them to walk through the world in rags; she destroys churches, and, when lacking other means for her fell purpose, will shed innocent blood and behead her opponents. But here below, Avarice and those who lead her on, though they be kings and queens, will have their day: Time will bring them to a stand. The rifled altar will be ornamented again, the rites of worship restored, and hospitals reopened. While an angel from heaven stops the progress of Avarice, high up in the eastern sky a thunder-storm is gathering; and on earth a man, whilst pointingwith one hand to grim Death, armed with his scythe, amid a cloud of loathsome winged things flitting around him, with the other that same person warns a harpy that her sister harpy Avarice will soon be overtaken; and just as the heathen Januslike figure close by—emblem of the past, and of a certain future—he also tells her of that just retribution which, by the hands of Death and in another world, will be dealt out to herself and all this miscreant company.

It would seem that this piece was wrought to stigmatize the memory of some of those many wanton acts of spoliation perpetrated in France and Belgium during the latter years of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th centuries. Perhaps the clue to the history and import of this fine specimen of the Flemish loom may be found all about the person of that old man, who carries in one hand a reliquary so conspicuously painted red, and in the other two parchment scrolls, upon one of which we find a sort of sketch of some particular spot, with an important edifice on it. By its size and look it seems to be some great hospital, and from the presence there of a man having above his head the letter tau or T and a bell hanging to it, we are given to understand that this building belonged to some brotherhood of St. Anthony, in the service of the sick; and that its suffering inmates were principally those afflicted with erysipelas, a disease then, and even yet, called abroad St. Anthony’s fire, once so pestilential that it often swept away thousands everywhere. Near Vienne, in the South of France, stood a richly-endowed hospital, foundedA.D.1095, chiefly for those suffering under this direful malady. This house belonged to and was administered by Canons Regular of St. Anthony. The town where it stood was Didier-la-Mothe, better known as Bourg S. Antoine. During the troubled times in France this great wealthy hospital, here fitly represented like a town of itself, by those lofty walls and that tall wide gateway, had been plundered: hence, one of its brothers is shown upbraiding Avarice for her evil doings, of which those sad tokens of moneyless purses, well-searched rent-books, and ransacked title-deeds are still dangling on her car. If not all, most, at least, of the persons here figured are meant, as is probable, to be characterized as the likenesses of the very individual victims and the victimizers portrayed upon this tapestry.

TapestryWall-hanging; subject, Abraham’s upper servant meeting Rebecca at the spring of water. Flemish, late 17th century.

At top, in the middle of the broad border, a tablet gives us the following inscription:—Cumque pervenisset (servus?) ad fontem et sibi (aquam?) petiisset et Batuelis filia Rebecca ex hydria potum dedisset et camelis haustis et filio Abrahe eam fore conjugem oraculo cognovit.In the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis we read how Abraham in his old age sent his eldest servant unto his own country and kindred, thence to bring back a wife for his son Isaac; and how that man, at his master’s behest, immediately took ten camels, carrying something of all his lord’s goods with him, and went on to Mesopotamia, to the city of Nahor; and how, when he had reached that place, and had made a halt without the town near a well of water, in the evening, at the time that women were wont to come out to draw water, he besought Heaven that the maid to whom he should say, “Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink, and she shall say, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also—let the same be she that Thou hast appointed for thy servant Isaac.” This faithful steward had not yet ended these words within himself, and behold Rebecca came out, the daughter of Bathuel the son of Milcha, wife to Nahor, the brother of Abraham, and spoke and did as this servant had wished: and then he gave her golden earrings and bracelets.As was fitting, the whole scene is laid in the open air, amid a charming landscape scattered all over with buildings. To the left, in the foreground, we behold a maid with a pitcher getting water out of a large square tank, ready, as it seems, for a second serving-woman to carry off, and who is coming back with another pitcher empty to be again refilled. In the middle ground a young woman, who carries a large pot of water on her head, is clambering over a wooden fence, and going towards an arch or bridge leading to a house.Right in the centre of the piece stands Rebecca, with one foot resting on a slab of veined marble, on which is placed a richly ornamented vase; and from out another like vessel, which she holds up in both her hands, she is giving drink to the steward Eliezer, who is respectfully bending forwards while carrying to his lips this same pitcher to slake his thirst. A kind of short sword, or anelace, dangles from his girdle, and a long stout staff lies by his feet upon the ground. Two tall trees with vinestwining about them overshadow the spot. In the distance stand several camels burdened; but behind him, some of his men, having unloaded one or two of those beasts, are opening certain gaily ornamented trunks, and looking out, no doubt, the bracelets and earrings to be afterwards given to Rebecca. In the background are fine large buildings, fortifications, a castle, and a palace-like erection conspicuous for its tall tower and cupola, besides the walls of a little town.The piece is framed with a very elaborately designed broad border, containing accessories which show a strong leaning towards the ornamentation that grew out of the classicism that burst forth at the end of the fifteenth century all over Europe.On the lower band, standing one at each side of a short pedestal, or rather low dado, are, back to back, two bearded grotesques, each of which is made up of a human head and face having three goats’ horns growing out of the forehead, and of a wyvern’s body, holding aloft in one of its claws a tall tapering torch. Further on comes a series of spaces peopled with emblematic personages, and separated from one another by two little naked winged boys standing on a highly elaborate zocle, and with the left hand swinging by a cord, at each end of which hang from a ring, and done up in bunches, fruits and flowers. In the first space is “Prudentia,” bearing in her right hand a long-handled convex mirror, in her left, a human skull; in the second space, upon a sort of throne, sits “Sollicitudo,” upholding in her right hand an oblong square time-piece, while on her left, with her elbow propped up by one arm of her chair, she leans her head as if buried in deep thought; in the third space sits “Animi-(Probitas)” with both her arms outstretched, as if reprovingly; in the fourth space we have “Ceres,” the heathen goddess of corn: crowned with a wreath of the centaurea flowers, she carries ears of wheat in her right hand, in her left, a round flat loaf of bread; in the fifth space, “Liberalitas,” who, from the emblems in her hands, must have been meant to personify not generosity but freedom, for in her right hand she shows us a hawk’s jesses, with the bells and their bewits, and on her left wrist, or, as it should be phrased, the “fist,” the hawk itself without jesses, bells, lunes, or tyrrits on—in fact quite free.At the left side of the upright portion of the border, stands first, within an architectural niche, “Circumspectio,” or Wariness, who, while she gathers up with her right hand her flowing garments from hindering her footsteps, with her left, holds an anchor upright, and carries on her wrist a hawk with two heads, one looking behind, the other before, fit token of keen-sightedness, which, from a knowledge of the past, strives to learn wisdom for the future. Higher up “Adjuratio” is standing, with herright hand outstretched afar, as if in warning of the awfulness of the act, and her left hand held upon her bosom in earnest of the truth of what she utters, whilst all about her head, as if enlightened from heaven, shines a nimb of glory. Last of all on this side, we have “Bonus zelus,” or Right-Earnestness, in the figure of a stout, hale husbandman, who is about clasping within his right arm two straight uprooted saplings, evidently apple-trees, by the fruit hanging from the wisp which binds them at their middle height.Going to the right-hand strip, we find, at the lower end, occupying her niche, “Pudicitias,” (sic), figured as a young maiden, who holds upon her breast with her left arm a little lamb, which, with her uplifted right hand, and the first two fingers put out according to the Latin rite, she seems to be blessing. In his own niche, and just overhead, we see “Requisicio,” or Hot-wishfulness, who is shown to us under the guise of a young knight, girt with an anelace, which hangs in front of him: in the hollow of his left outstretched hand he carries a heart—very likely as his own—all on fire. The last of this very curious series is “Diligentia,” as a matronly woman, who, with one hand keeping the ample folds of her gown from falling about her feet, carries the branch of a vine in the other hand.From the quantities of dulled and blackish spaces all over the border-ground, and amid the draperies upon the figures in this tapestry, it is evident that much gold thread was woven into it, so that when fresh from the loom it must have had a splendour and a richness of which at present we can image to ourselves but a very faint idea. Though the glitter of its golden material is gone for ever, its artistic beauty cannot ever fade. Much gracefulness in the attitudes, several happy foreshortenings, and a great deal of good drawing all about this design, show that the man who made the cartoon must have deeply studied the great masters of Italy, and, in an especial manner, those belonging to the Roman school: unfortunately, like all of them, he too had forgot to learn what was the real Oriental costume, and followed a classic style in dress, which, as he has given it, is often very incorrect.

In the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis we read how Abraham in his old age sent his eldest servant unto his own country and kindred, thence to bring back a wife for his son Isaac; and how that man, at his master’s behest, immediately took ten camels, carrying something of all his lord’s goods with him, and went on to Mesopotamia, to the city of Nahor; and how, when he had reached that place, and had made a halt without the town near a well of water, in the evening, at the time that women were wont to come out to draw water, he besought Heaven that the maid to whom he should say, “Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink, and she shall say, Drink, and I will give thy camels drink also—let the same be she that Thou hast appointed for thy servant Isaac.” This faithful steward had not yet ended these words within himself, and behold Rebecca came out, the daughter of Bathuel the son of Milcha, wife to Nahor, the brother of Abraham, and spoke and did as this servant had wished: and then he gave her golden earrings and bracelets.

As was fitting, the whole scene is laid in the open air, amid a charming landscape scattered all over with buildings. To the left, in the foreground, we behold a maid with a pitcher getting water out of a large square tank, ready, as it seems, for a second serving-woman to carry off, and who is coming back with another pitcher empty to be again refilled. In the middle ground a young woman, who carries a large pot of water on her head, is clambering over a wooden fence, and going towards an arch or bridge leading to a house.

Right in the centre of the piece stands Rebecca, with one foot resting on a slab of veined marble, on which is placed a richly ornamented vase; and from out another like vessel, which she holds up in both her hands, she is giving drink to the steward Eliezer, who is respectfully bending forwards while carrying to his lips this same pitcher to slake his thirst. A kind of short sword, or anelace, dangles from his girdle, and a long stout staff lies by his feet upon the ground. Two tall trees with vinestwining about them overshadow the spot. In the distance stand several camels burdened; but behind him, some of his men, having unloaded one or two of those beasts, are opening certain gaily ornamented trunks, and looking out, no doubt, the bracelets and earrings to be afterwards given to Rebecca. In the background are fine large buildings, fortifications, a castle, and a palace-like erection conspicuous for its tall tower and cupola, besides the walls of a little town.

The piece is framed with a very elaborately designed broad border, containing accessories which show a strong leaning towards the ornamentation that grew out of the classicism that burst forth at the end of the fifteenth century all over Europe.

On the lower band, standing one at each side of a short pedestal, or rather low dado, are, back to back, two bearded grotesques, each of which is made up of a human head and face having three goats’ horns growing out of the forehead, and of a wyvern’s body, holding aloft in one of its claws a tall tapering torch. Further on comes a series of spaces peopled with emblematic personages, and separated from one another by two little naked winged boys standing on a highly elaborate zocle, and with the left hand swinging by a cord, at each end of which hang from a ring, and done up in bunches, fruits and flowers. In the first space is “Prudentia,” bearing in her right hand a long-handled convex mirror, in her left, a human skull; in the second space, upon a sort of throne, sits “Sollicitudo,” upholding in her right hand an oblong square time-piece, while on her left, with her elbow propped up by one arm of her chair, she leans her head as if buried in deep thought; in the third space sits “Animi-(Probitas)” with both her arms outstretched, as if reprovingly; in the fourth space we have “Ceres,” the heathen goddess of corn: crowned with a wreath of the centaurea flowers, she carries ears of wheat in her right hand, in her left, a round flat loaf of bread; in the fifth space, “Liberalitas,” who, from the emblems in her hands, must have been meant to personify not generosity but freedom, for in her right hand she shows us a hawk’s jesses, with the bells and their bewits, and on her left wrist, or, as it should be phrased, the “fist,” the hawk itself without jesses, bells, lunes, or tyrrits on—in fact quite free.

At the left side of the upright portion of the border, stands first, within an architectural niche, “Circumspectio,” or Wariness, who, while she gathers up with her right hand her flowing garments from hindering her footsteps, with her left, holds an anchor upright, and carries on her wrist a hawk with two heads, one looking behind, the other before, fit token of keen-sightedness, which, from a knowledge of the past, strives to learn wisdom for the future. Higher up “Adjuratio” is standing, with herright hand outstretched afar, as if in warning of the awfulness of the act, and her left hand held upon her bosom in earnest of the truth of what she utters, whilst all about her head, as if enlightened from heaven, shines a nimb of glory. Last of all on this side, we have “Bonus zelus,” or Right-Earnestness, in the figure of a stout, hale husbandman, who is about clasping within his right arm two straight uprooted saplings, evidently apple-trees, by the fruit hanging from the wisp which binds them at their middle height.

Going to the right-hand strip, we find, at the lower end, occupying her niche, “Pudicitias,” (sic), figured as a young maiden, who holds upon her breast with her left arm a little lamb, which, with her uplifted right hand, and the first two fingers put out according to the Latin rite, she seems to be blessing. In his own niche, and just overhead, we see “Requisicio,” or Hot-wishfulness, who is shown to us under the guise of a young knight, girt with an anelace, which hangs in front of him: in the hollow of his left outstretched hand he carries a heart—very likely as his own—all on fire. The last of this very curious series is “Diligentia,” as a matronly woman, who, with one hand keeping the ample folds of her gown from falling about her feet, carries the branch of a vine in the other hand.

From the quantities of dulled and blackish spaces all over the border-ground, and amid the draperies upon the figures in this tapestry, it is evident that much gold thread was woven into it, so that when fresh from the loom it must have had a splendour and a richness of which at present we can image to ourselves but a very faint idea. Though the glitter of its golden material is gone for ever, its artistic beauty cannot ever fade. Much gracefulness in the attitudes, several happy foreshortenings, and a great deal of good drawing all about this design, show that the man who made the cartoon must have deeply studied the great masters of Italy, and, in an especial manner, those belonging to the Roman school: unfortunately, like all of them, he too had forgot to learn what was the real Oriental costume, and followed a classic style in dress, which, as he has given it, is often very incorrect.

TapestryWall-hanging; subject, Tobit, the father, sending his son to the city of Rages for the recovery of the moneys lent to Gabael. Flemish, late 17th century.

Sitting in the open air, we see first the elder Tobit. Well stricken in years, and blind, he is leaning his right hand upon a staff; in his lefthand he holds a folded document—the note-of-hand signed by Gabael. Thinking that he must die in a short time, he has called to his side his well-beloved child the young Tobias, and after having given him the most wholesome counsel for his religious and moral behaviour through life, speaks of his own burial, and how he wishes that when his wife Sarah’s days are done, the boy should lay his mother’s body by his father’s in the grave. As an ending to this discourse, the elder Tobias said, “‘I signify this to thee, that I committed ten talents to Gabael—at Rages in Media. Seek thee a man which may go with thee, whiles I yet live—and go and receive the money.”Then Tobias going forth, found a beautiful young man, standing girded, and as it were ready to walk; and not knowing that he was an angel of God, he saluted him and said: “Canst thou go with me to Rages, and knowest thou those places well?” To whom the angel said: “I will go with thee, and I know the way well.” Then Tobias going in told all these things to his father; and all things being ready, Tobias bade his father and his mother farewell, and he and the angel set out both together; and when they were departed, his mother began to weep; and Tobias went forward, and the dog followed him.—Book of Tobit, chapters iv. v.Seated, and leaning his right hand upon his staff, the old man is outstretching with his left to his starting son the note-of-hand to Gabael, behind him stands his wife Sarah weeping; before him is his son, who, leaning his long travelling staff against his shoulder, with his left hand is about to take the important document from his father, at the same time that he turns himself half round and points with his right hand to the angel behind him, as if to comfort his father in the knowledge that he is to have such a good companion for his guide. The angel, who carries a traveller’s staff in his left hand, holds out his right towards the young man, as telling his father and mother how carefully he would lead him to Rages, and bring him safely home again. Last of all, and standing beneath a tree we find a saddled ass with a large gaily ornamented pilgrim’s wooden bottle for water hanging by its side, and the ass’s head is turned round as if looking on the faithful dog that is lying on the ground ready to follow his young master on the way. Magnificent buildings arise as a background to the spot where we see old Tobit seated, and standing behind him his weeping wife Sarah. On the threshold of their own fine house behind them there stands in a niche the statue of Moses, who is figured with the two horns upon his forehead, as representing the light that shone about his face, and darted all around it in rays like horns, as he came from Sinai a second time with tables of the law: his left hand leans uponthose two tables that stand beside him; and on his right arm lies a long scroll.The borders all about the piece are made up of wreathed boughs of foliage, from out of which peep forth fruits and flowers. The left-hand strip shows a peacock perched upon the stem of a vine, and little boys are shooting blunt-headed arrows at it: on the strip to the right, other little boys are disporting themselves amid the branches, playing music, one beating a drum, a second blowing the flute, others clambering up amid the roses, fruits and flowers; one little fellow, conspicuous for his dress, is waving a flag in great delight: on the lower border children are at their gambols with equally graceful energy. At every one of the four corners is a large circle, wrought in imitation of bronze, all in gold, but now so faded that the smallest lustre from the metal is lacking. They were figured by the means of outlines done in brown silk, each with a subject drawn from the Book of Tobit. In the circle, at the upper left-hand corner, we observe the young Tobias going out from his father to seek, as he had bidden him, for some trusty guide to Gabael’s house; in the lower round of the same side the wished-for companion, Raphael in his angel shape, has been brought in, and is speaking with the blind old man. Looking at the circle on the upper right-hand of the border we see the same Tobit giving comfort to his sorrowing wife Sarah, just as both have been left by their son gone on his journey.Gold-covered thread has been much employed all about this fine specimen of tapestry; but, like too many other instances of misapplied economy in material, this exhibits nothing but blotches of dirty brownish black in those laces which should have shone with gold.

Then Tobias going forth, found a beautiful young man, standing girded, and as it were ready to walk; and not knowing that he was an angel of God, he saluted him and said: “Canst thou go with me to Rages, and knowest thou those places well?” To whom the angel said: “I will go with thee, and I know the way well.” Then Tobias going in told all these things to his father; and all things being ready, Tobias bade his father and his mother farewell, and he and the angel set out both together; and when they were departed, his mother began to weep; and Tobias went forward, and the dog followed him.—Book of Tobit, chapters iv. v.

Seated, and leaning his right hand upon his staff, the old man is outstretching with his left to his starting son the note-of-hand to Gabael, behind him stands his wife Sarah weeping; before him is his son, who, leaning his long travelling staff against his shoulder, with his left hand is about to take the important document from his father, at the same time that he turns himself half round and points with his right hand to the angel behind him, as if to comfort his father in the knowledge that he is to have such a good companion for his guide. The angel, who carries a traveller’s staff in his left hand, holds out his right towards the young man, as telling his father and mother how carefully he would lead him to Rages, and bring him safely home again. Last of all, and standing beneath a tree we find a saddled ass with a large gaily ornamented pilgrim’s wooden bottle for water hanging by its side, and the ass’s head is turned round as if looking on the faithful dog that is lying on the ground ready to follow his young master on the way. Magnificent buildings arise as a background to the spot where we see old Tobit seated, and standing behind him his weeping wife Sarah. On the threshold of their own fine house behind them there stands in a niche the statue of Moses, who is figured with the two horns upon his forehead, as representing the light that shone about his face, and darted all around it in rays like horns, as he came from Sinai a second time with tables of the law: his left hand leans uponthose two tables that stand beside him; and on his right arm lies a long scroll.

The borders all about the piece are made up of wreathed boughs of foliage, from out of which peep forth fruits and flowers. The left-hand strip shows a peacock perched upon the stem of a vine, and little boys are shooting blunt-headed arrows at it: on the strip to the right, other little boys are disporting themselves amid the branches, playing music, one beating a drum, a second blowing the flute, others clambering up amid the roses, fruits and flowers; one little fellow, conspicuous for his dress, is waving a flag in great delight: on the lower border children are at their gambols with equally graceful energy. At every one of the four corners is a large circle, wrought in imitation of bronze, all in gold, but now so faded that the smallest lustre from the metal is lacking. They were figured by the means of outlines done in brown silk, each with a subject drawn from the Book of Tobit. In the circle, at the upper left-hand corner, we observe the young Tobias going out from his father to seek, as he had bidden him, for some trusty guide to Gabael’s house; in the lower round of the same side the wished-for companion, Raphael in his angel shape, has been brought in, and is speaking with the blind old man. Looking at the circle on the upper right-hand of the border we see the same Tobit giving comfort to his sorrowing wife Sarah, just as both have been left by their son gone on his journey.

Gold-covered thread has been much employed all about this fine specimen of tapestry; but, like too many other instances of misapplied economy in material, this exhibits nothing but blotches of dirty brownish black in those laces which should have shone with gold.

TapestryWall-hanging; ground, rather white; subject, a feast. French, or Gobelin, 18th century. Lent by the Board of Works.

Within a large stone hall, roughly built and festooned, is spread a long well-provided table, at which the guests, male and female, are sitting: in the foreground are the servants, some of whom are shown in very daring but successful foreshortenings, reminding us somewhat, on the whole, of one of Paolo Veronese’s banquets, though here we behold a rustic building in a garden, not an architectural hall in a Venetian palace.

TapestryWall-hanging; ground, mostly white; subject, Cupid among the rustics. French, or Gobelin, 18th century. Lent by the Board of Works.

Amid the ruins of an Ionic temple in the foreground we have a shepherd and his dog fast asleep, while a winged youthful genius is hovering just above, and scattering very plentifully poppy-flowers all about the spot. Behind, a young little Cupid, seated on a cloud, is surrounded by a crowd of rustics, men and women, thronging, as it were, to hear him. As in the other fellow-piece to this, the colouring is cheerful and very pleasing, in parts so soft and well graduated in their tones, and so remarkable for their foreshortenings. From their large size they must have been intended for some great hall, and seemingly were all wrought for the same spacious room.

TapestryHangings for Pilasters; ground, brown; design, arabesques done in red, blue, and yellow. French, early 18th century. Lent by the Board of Works.

These two pieces seem to have been especially wrought to cover some pilasters in a hall, and not to border any larger production of the loom.

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