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