The Story of Glass Part 4

"Well, all I can say is that if anything had happened to you I never should have dared show my face to your Uncle Bob. And think of your Uncle Tom at home--he would have things to say! They would both blame me even if it was not my fault," sighed Hannah.

"Of course it wasn't your fault. How could you possibly be to blame if I was so heedless as to rush ahead without looking where I was going?

I'm always doing that, Hannah; you know I am. I am always in such a hurry to enjoy the things I like that I never can wait a moment. This is a good lesson for me. I just hope the salt water won't spoil my new tan shoes. Come! Let us talk of something pleasanter. Isn't it too perfectly lovely out here? Look back at the sh.o.r.e and see how St.

Mark's and the Campanile stand out. I know those already, because I remember seeing pictures of them in my geography. Oh, I am so glad we are here! I am sure we shall have a wonderful time in Venice even if I did begin by nearly drowning myself in the ca.n.a.l."

"It is all very well to laugh about it now," Hannah answered solemnly, "but it was no laughing matter when it happened--no laughing matter!"

CHAPTER III

GIUSIPPE TELLS A STORY

When Uncle Bob heard of Jean's adventure he lost no time, you may be sure, in hunting up Giusippe Cicone. A note was sent to Murano asking that the lad call at the hotel; and as the following day chanced to be a festa day the gla.s.s works were closed and Giusippe presented himself directly after breakfast. He was neatly although poorly clothed, and had he had no other claim to Mr. Cabot's good will than his frank face that would have won him a welcome. Perhaps added to Uncle Bob's grat.i.tude there was, too, a measure of the artist's joy in the beautiful; for Giusippe was handsome. Thick brown hair cl.u.s.tered about the well-formed head; his eyes were of soft hazel; and into his round olive cheek was steeped the rich crimson of the southern sun. More than all this, he was a well bred lad--manly, courteous, and proud. When Mr.

Cabot began to thank him for his service to Jean the boy made light of what he had done and once more refused to accept any reward.

Uncle Bob's curiosity was aroused.

Never before had he met an Italian who would not take money when it was offered him.

"Perhaps you would be willing, young man, to tell us more about yourself," said he at last. "You work in the gla.s.s factory, you say.

Have you been long there?"

Giusippe smiled, showing two rows of dazzling white teeth.

"So long, senor, that I cannot remember when I was not there. And before me was my father, and my grandfather; and before that his father; and so on back for years and years. There was always a Cicone at Murano. For you must know, senor, that gla.s.s-making has ever been the great art of Venice. When paintings began to take the place of the gla.s.s mosaics then came the height of fame for Venetian gla.s.s. For you will remember that for many years before artists could paint people made pictures out of bits of gla.s.s, and in this way represented to those who had no books scenes from the Bible or from history. Then wonderful painters were born in Italy and they crowded out the mosaic makers, who had previously decorated the churches, palaces, and public buildings. The making of gla.s.s mosaics died out and it was then that the Venetian artisans turned their attention and their skill to the making of other gla.s.s things--beads, mirrors, drinking cups, and ornaments. In fact," went on Giusippe, "there soon became so many gla.s.s houses in Venice that the Great Council feared a terrible fire might sweep the island, and in 1291, with the exception of a few factories for small articles, all the gla.s.s houses were banished to the island of Murano a mile distant where, if fire came, no destruction could be done to the city of Venice itself. Those factories which were allowed to remain had to have a s.p.a.ce of fifteen paces around them. By the decree of the Council the other gla.s.s houses were torn down."

"And it was thus that your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather was driven to Murano, was it?" queried Mr. Cabot.

"Yes. He was a member of the guild of bead-makers. For you know, senor, that in those days workmen were banded together in guilds, and kept the mysteries of their trade to themselves. The precious secret was handed down from father to son. So it was with my great-great-great-great-great-grandfather."

Giusippe drew himself up.

"Oh, it was a grand thing to be a gla.s.s-maker in those days, senor!"

continued the boy, his eyes glowing. "The members of the guilds were so honored in Venice that they were considered equal in birth to the n.o.blest families. They were gentlemen. A t.i.tled woman felt only pride in uniting herself with a gla.s.s-maker's family."

"Perhaps that is what your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother did," Jean said, half aloud.

"Yes, senorita," was Giusippe's simple answer. "And they say, too, she was beautiful. My ancestor was of the _pater-nostereri_; he was a maker of beads for rosaries. Then there were the _margaritai_, who made small beads; and the _fuppialume_, who made large blown beads. Each man was a skilled artist, you see, and did some one special thing. The _phiolari_ made vases, cups, and gla.s.s for windows; the _cristallai_ optical gla.s.s; and the _specchiai_ mirrors. No strangers were allowed to visit the gla.s.s works, and all apprentices must pa.s.s a rigid examination not only as to their skill, but as to their previous personal history. In 1495 the gla.s.s houses at Murano extended for a mile along a single street and the great furnaces roared night and day, so you can imagine how much gla.s.s was made on the island."

"My!" gasped Jean breathlessly.

"Absolute loyalty to the art was demanded of every man engaged in it,"

Giusippe said. "And you can see, senor, that this was necessary. Any workman carrying the secrets elsewhere was first warned to return to Venice; then, if he refused, his nearest relative was imprisoned; if he still refused to obey he was tracked down and killed. Often gla.s.s-makers were found in Padua, Ravenna, and other places stabbed through the heart, and the word _Traitor_ was fastened to the dagger."

Jean shuddered.

"Do not tremble, senorita," Giusippe said. "It was a just punishment.

You see the Council of Ten felt that the prosperity of the Venetians depended upon keeping their art away from all the outside world which was so eager to learn it. All knew the penalty for disloyalty. The decree read:

"'_If any workman conveys his art to a strange country to the detriment of the Republic he shall be sent an order to return to Venice. Failing to obey his nearest of kin shall be imprisoned. If he still persists in remaining abroad and plying his art an emissary shall be charged to kill him._'

"In this way the secrets of gla.s.s-making were kept in Venice and the Republic soon became famous and prosperous. As the reputation of the Venetian gla.s.s-makers spread an immense trade was established. My grandfather has often told me of the great numbers of beads which were sent everywhere throughout the East--sometimes to Africa and even to India. In 1764 twenty-two great furnaces were kept busy supplying the beads that were demanded. Frequently, they say, as many as forty-four thousand barrels were turned out in a single week."

"Why, I should think that everybody in the world would have been covered with beads!" Jean exclaimed, smiling.

"Ah, I can tell you something stranger than that, senorita. So popular did Venetian gla.s.s of every variety become that a foreign prince created a great sensation by appearing in Paris with curls of finely spun black gla.s.s."

Jean and Uncle Bob laughed merrily.

"I think myself he was silly," Giusippe declared, echoing their amus.e.m.e.nt. "He, however, was not alone in his admiration for the beautiful and ingenious workmanship of the people of my country, for even as far back as 1400 Richard the Second of England gave permission to our Venetian merchants to sell gla.s.s aboard their galleys, duty free; and King Henry the Eighth owned as many as four or five hundred Venetian drinking goblets, vases, dishes, and plates, some of which, they say, are still in the British Museum."

"We must see them when we go to London, mustn't we, Uncle Bob?" cried Jean eagerly.

"We surely must. All this is very interesting, Giusippe. You do well to remember so much of your country's history," said Mr. Cabot.

"I am proud of it, senor. Besides I have heard it many, many times. My people were never tired of telling over and over the story of the old days; the golden days of Venice, my father called them. The Republic might have retained its fame much longer had not some of our countrymen been persuaded to go to other lands and sell their secrets for gold. It was thus that the art of making mirrors was taken into France and Germany."

"Tell us about it, Giusippe," pleaded Jean.

"Why, as I think I told you, the Venetians began to make mirrors as early as 1300. Of course, senorita, they were crude affairs--not at all like the fine ones of to-day, but to people who had nothing better they were marvels. And indeed they were both clever and beautiful. For you must remember that ages ago there was no such thing as a looking-gla.s.s.

Men and women could only see their reflections in streams, pools, and fountains. Then the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans began to make mirrors of burnished metal, using bits of bra.s.s or bronze often beautifully decorated on the back with cla.s.sic Grecian figures. Rich women carried such mirrors fastened to their girdles or sometimes instead had them fitted into small, shallow boxes of carved ivory; sometimes too the mirror was set in a case of gold, silver, enamel, or ebony with intricate decoration on the outside. That was the first of mirror-making."

"How curious!"

"Later the Venetians experimented and began backing pieces of gla.s.s with mercury or tin. The surface was first covered with tinfoil and then rubbed down until smooth; then the whole was coated with quicksilver, which formed an amalgam with the tin. It does no harm to tell you about it now, senorita," added Giusippe a little sadly, "for every one knows. This process was slow and unsatisfactory, but it was the best the workmen then knew. These mirrors they set in elaborate frames of gla.s.s, silver, carved wood, mother-of-pearl, coral, tarsi, or into frames of painted wood. Some of them were sent by Venetian n.o.bles as gifts to kings and queens of other countries; often they were purchased by royalties themselves. You can see many in the museums of France, Germany, or England."

"We will hunt them up, Jean," Uncle Bob declared.

"I'd love to see them," replied the girl.

"My father has told me that there were frequent quarrels between the gla.s.s-makers and the mirror-framers because, you see, the framers wanted to learn the secret of making the mirrors, and the mirror-makers were jealous of the skill of the framers and feared the frame would be more beautiful than the mirror itself and so overshadow it. Then in 1600 the French stole from our people the secret of mirror-making and began turning out mirrors not only as good, but in some respects better than the Venetian ones."

"Oh, Giusippe, how did they steal the secret?" Jean cried. "How dreadful!"

"It was through the treachery of our own countrymen, senorita,"

Giusippe confessed. "Yes, sorry as I am to say so, it was our own fault. The French, you see, as well as the Venetians, had long been experimenting with gla.s.s-making and since it was considered there, as here, an art, many penniless Huguenot gentlemen who had lost their fortunes took it up; for one might be a gla.s.s-maker and still retain his n.o.ble rank. Such was Bernard Palissy----"

"The potter!" interrupted Jean. "I learned all about him in my history."

Giusippe nodded.

"So? Then you know how he struggled for years to solve the secret of making the enamel he had seen on a Saracen cup. Palissy also made some fine old stained gla.s.s, although few people seem to know this. Many another Frenchman tried to discover the Venetian's great secret. They sought to bribe our people to tell the process, but without success.

Then Colbert, the chief minister under Louis the Fourteenth, wrote the French amba.s.sador at Venice that he must obtain for France some Venetian workmen. The amba.s.sador was upset enough, as you may imagine, when he received the order. He said he could not do it. He dared not.

If found out he would be thrown into the sea."