Reliquary, c. 1220-1230. Gilt and nielloed silver,

gems, 24.1 x 13.4 cm. Musée de Cluny, Paris.

 

 

All these marvels have disappeared in the melting-pot, and have passed through the die of the mint. We are lucky enough to be able to form some idea of them from a splendid piece of tapestry, which represents that Louis XIV visited the manufactory of the Gobelins and observed the making of all the treasures destined for his Palace of Versailles.

Gobelins was, in fact, the grand school in which, drilled by Le Brun, the artists learned to give up their own individuality for the centralised genius of the king’s painter. However, gone were the days of prosperity; finances became more and more of a hindrance and prompt action had to be taken. We are all aware of what this action was: the Decree of the 3rd of December, 1689, which consigned to the mint all silver plate used in the rooms, such as mirrors, andirons, chandeliers, and vases of all kinds. The king set the example of this terrible sacrifice, which engulfed so many masterpieces yet only produced the insignificant sum of three million pounds. Although the church was spared, specimens of the churches’ gold and silver during the Louis XIV period are quite infrequent. We need not emphasise the scarcity of articles for civilian use, particularly considering that the only pieces that remain must have been preserved secretly.

Shorly after the death of Louis XIV, a notable change in style occurred. Shells and palmettes, masks and their garlands, acanthus and stems of foliage seemed cold and formal to society, who, wearied with the priestly demonstrations of the latter part of the king’s reign, was eager for a return to the animation and brilliancy which marked its early years. The Regent, essentially a man of pleasure, could scarcely help seconding the movement, and although with little inclination for art, he lent encouragement to the artists in their search for new creations. But the individual who carried the rocaille style to the most exaggerated length was Juste-Aurèle Meissonnier, who, taking advantage of the talent among the numerous engravers and chasers, made them put their full strength into works with complicated outlines, covered with rocailles, and bristling with details. The straight line disappeared beneath a mass profusion of endive ornamentation, where the eye wanders uneasily amid glittering confusion.

The latter part of the reign of Louis XV and that of Louis XVI have left us but few examples of gold and silver; still enough remains to mark the progress accomplished. When we see the silver following simple lines, covered with the finest ornamental chasing, and imagine a set table with the vases and biscuits of Sèvres, we dream of the most coquettish refinements of elegance, and see revived once more those forms illuminated by their beauty and the halo thrown around them despites their misfortunes.