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THE 

CRAFTSMAN 


VOLLMt:  FI\  E 


OCTOBER  1903  — MARCH    1004 


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THE     CRAFTS  M  A  N 


X'OLIMK    V 


CONTEXTS 

OCTOBER    Ulo;i-. MARCH    l'.)U4 


A  ]i  C  of  Decorati\c  art 
Adaplarion  of  Ornament  to  Space 

A  False  Effort  to  be  Fine 

A  For>;otten  Art 

Art  anil  the  Hfaut\  of  Fartii 

Arts  and  Crafts,  Hin^ham 

Arts  and  Crafts  Societies,  Fxhihitions  of 

Art  Industry  of  the  Bayous:  The  Pottery  of 

Newcomb  College 
Art,  Japanese.  The  L  kio -^'e  School  of 
Art  Nouveau,  L' 

Art  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 
Art.  Racial,  of  riie  Russians 

Art,  The  Silversmith's 


M.  P.-\'erneuil  (translated  from 
the  French  h\-  Irene  Sargent) 

Isabel  Moore 
\\'illiam  Morris 
C.  Chester  Lane 


289 

470 
621 
485 

.^97 
276 

315 


Irene  Sargent 

S.    Hing    (translated    from    the 
French  by  Irene  Sargent) 
Arthur  Spencer 

With  preface  and  adapted  from 
the  French  by  Irene  Sargent 
Jean  Schopfer   (translated  from 
the  French  by  Irene  Sargent) 


^^9 

I 

103 

43 


C.  Gadsden  Porcher 

Leon  Mead 

Frank  Chouteau  Brow  n 


In  the  Middle  Ages,  Twelfth  Century 

In  the  Thirteenth,  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth  Centuries 

In  the  Sixteenth.  Se\enteenth  and  Eighteenth  Centuries 

In  Contemporary   Prance 
Basketry  of  the  Aleutian  Islands 
HiKik  Illustrations,  Japanese 
Hiiok-Plate,  Decorati\e,  .A  Plea  for  the 
Book  Reviews 

Brouning's  Message  to  Artists  and  Crafts- 
men of  To-day 
Bvmgalow,  How  to  Build  a 
Canvas  Curtains  with  Linen  Applique 
Ceramic  Products  of  Sevres,  The  Latest 
Certain  Craftsman  Cottages 
Chests  and  Cabinets,  Ancient  and  Modern 
Chips  from  Ihe  Craftsman  Workshops 


1  '3 
217 

.^37 
433 

575 
144 


101,  2iX>.  417,  520,  O19 

George  Wharton  James  14'; 

253 
(32b 
378 
59^ 

Grace  L.  Slocum  26.?- 

l()0,  193.  309,  413,  518,  628 


'H7 


CONTENTS  —  Continued 


Ciphers,  The  Sacred 

Clay    Modeling,    \v\    Appreciation    cit    Its 

Value 
Color,  A  Note  of 
Color  Prints,  Japanese,  and  Some  of  Their 

Makers 
Commercial  Value  of  Design 
Concerning  Cottages  and  Content 
Craftsman  House:  Series  of  1904 

Number  One 

Number  Two 

Number  Three 
Craftsmanship  in  the  New  "^'ork  Schools 
Decorative  Artist,  A  Belgian,  Madame  de 
Rudder 

Dining  Room,  A  Simple 

Floors,  Hardwood 

Franciscan  Mission  Buildings  <if  California 

From  Merton  Abbey  to  Old  Deerfield 

Handicraft  in  the  Schools 

Handicraft  W'orkers  and  Ci\ic  Beauty 

History    of    \'illage    Improvement    in    the 

United  States 
Honu-builders'  Club,  A  Craftsman 
Indians  of  the  Franciscan  Missions 
Influence   of   the   Mission   Style   Upon   the 
Civic  and  Domestic  Architecture  of  Cal- 
ifornia 
Insect  in  Decoration,  The 

Inspiration  in  Materials 

Interior  Trcatnients,  Recent  English 

Jarvie,    Robert,    An    Appreciation    of    the 

\Vork  of 
Jewelry,  English,  Recent  Examples  of 
Lace  School,  A  Go\eriunent 
Lalique,  Rene 

Manual    Tr.-iining  and  the  Development  of 
Taste 


Caryl  Coleman 

C.  Valentine  Kirby 
Harvey  Ellis 

M.  Louise  Stowell 
Frederick  S.  Lamb 
Alice  ^I.  Rathbone 


Jacob  Milsner 


PAGE 

207 
490 

546 
593 

399 

499 
585 
305 


AVith  preface  and  translated  from 
the  French  h\  Irene  Sargent  171 

88 

164 

Ge(jrge  Wharton  James  321 

Jane  Pratt  183 

197 
Charles  Mulfortl  Robinson  235 


\Varren  H.  Manning 


George  Wharton  James 


4^3 
198 
599 


George  Wharton  James  438 

M.  P.-Verneuil  (translated  from 
the  French  b\-  Irene  Sargent)         563 
Charles  F.  Binns  260 

509 

^71 

Adapted  from  the  French  77 

From    the   German    of    Dr.    H. 
Pudor  6ig 

51  ^ 


CONTENTS  —  Continue  J 


Manual  Training  and  Citizenship 

Mark  of  Honor,  A 

Memorable  in  Magazines 

Municipal   Improvement,  The  Importance 

of 
Our  Correspondence 
Pictured  Poesies:  An  Essay  on  the  Rebus  in 

Art 
Pillows,  Craftsman 
Portieres,  Craftsman  Canvas 
Primitive  Inventions 
Rodin,  Auguste 


Sermons  in  Sim-Dried  Bricks,  from  the  Old 

Spanish  Missions 
Stenciled  Fabrics  in  Combination  with  Peas- 
ant Embroidery 
Structure  and  Ornament  in  the  Craftsman 

Workshops 
Table  Scarfs  with  Indian  Designs 
The  Child  Benefited  by  Simple  Toys 
Urbi  et  Orbi :  To  the  City  and  to  the  World 
Wall  Coverings,  Nursen%  in  Indian  Designs 
Was  Jesus  a  Carpenter? 
Watanabe,  Seitei 

What  may  be  Done  with  an  Ordinary  Room 
William  Morris:  His  Thoughts,  Theories 
and  Opinions  upon  \Vork  in  a  Factory 
Wood,  The  Use  of,  in  Switzerland 
Workingman's  Dwelling  in  France 


I'AGK 

407 

Ca:>  1  Coleman  17 

102,  204,  318,  42H,  523 

Jolin  DeWitt  AVarner  362 

199,  316 

Edith  Moore  239 

94 
169 

(jeorgc  \\'harton  James  125 

Jean  Schopfer  and  Claude  Anet 
( translated  from  the  French  b\ 
Irene  Sargent)  525 


Harvev  Ellis 


Ernest  Crosby 
Yone  Noguchi 


212 

286 

391 
507 
298 
358 
95 
138 
386 
167 


245 
Wendell  G.  Corthell  31 

Charles  Gans   (translated  from 
the  French  by  Irene  Sargent)         367 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE  PAGE 

Aleutian  Ulamls ;  >ee  Basketry  Sleigh    46 

Alt,  A  Fill-gotten  Terra  cottas 49 

Ga?ing  with  far-seeing  eyes 485  Comb  of  spinning-wheel 50 

Figurehead  of  H.  M.  S.  Edinburgh..   485  Musical  instrument 51 

Loft  of  Messrs.  Castle  and  Sons 486  Arts  and  Crafts,  Hingham;  see  Ilingham 

SnuHing   the   bree/e    across    a    London  Arts  aiui  Crafts 

thoroughfare 486  Art,  The,  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 

Messrs.  Castle  and  Sons,  Baltic  \\'harf,  Frederick  Law  Olmsted facing  105 

London,  main  entrance 486  The  Back  Bay  Fens io6 

Alone  in  his  neglected  corner 487  Woodside,  Franklin  Park 108 

A  group  of  ancient  friends 487  Meadow,  Franklin  Park no 

The  Temeraire  mantelpiece 48S  Basket:  see  Hingham  Arts  and  Crafts;  see 

Two  nameless  boon  companions 488  Inventions 

Star 4S9  BasketiN  of  the  Aleutian  Islands 

Art,  Decorati\e;  see  Decorative  .\rt  Fig.  i — Openwork   weave 577 

Art,    Indian;    see   Wall    Cmerings,    Nur-  Fig.  2 — Plain  twine  weave 578 

sery ;  see  Scarfs,  Table  Fig.  3 — Cigarette  case 578 

Art  Industry  of  the  Bayous,  An  Fig.  4 — Openwork  weave 578 

Pottery   School   of   Xewconib   College.  Fig.  5 — Wrapped  twine  weave 579 

Fulane  liiixeisity,  New  Orleans..      70  Fig.  6 — Types  of  Attn  and  Atka  work   580 

Potter\   School,  interior  view 72  Fig.  7 — Types     of     I'nalaska     Island 

Mugs   73  baskets  5S1 

lamp   74  Fig.  8 — Interior  of  "barabara"  at  Attn   582 

Jar 75,   76  Beetle;  see  Decoration,  The  Insect  in 

Art,  Japanese  ;    see   Watanabe,  Seitei  ;   see  Book  Illustrations,  Japanese 

Ukio-'Se  School ;  see  Book  Illustrations,  Bridges 145 

Japanese  Building 146 

Art  Nouveau,  L'  Men   147 

Necklace 2  Scenery 148 

Teapot 3  Book  Plate,  The  Decorative 

Brooch    3  Book  plates  of: 

Electric  lamp 4  E.  W.  1  ).  Brainard 552 

Hand-mirror   5  W-  .A.  Ramsey 553 

Pendant   6,  7  F.  W.  Ellis 553 

Plate    8  P.   B.   Brown 554 

Pendant 9  F.  C    Brown 554 

Interior    10  S.H.  Bunnell 555 

Toilet  box II  W.  P.  Frye 556 

Bouiloir  chair 12  ^^^  Kittredge 557 

Cabinet    13  A.   Farwell 557 

Jardiniere 14  F.   H.  Jackson 558 

Art  of  the  Russians,    I'lie  Racial  H,  Noel 558 

House  at    Falachkino 42  I.  M.  Lenox 559 

Table 44  B.B.Russell 559 

Approach  to  house  at  Talachkino.  ...      45  C.  C.  Brown 560 


ILIA'STKATIONS  — Cow/z/H/.v/ 


PACE 

T.  L.  Cushman 560 

H.  A.  Norris 561 

J.  C.  Plant 561 

C.  S.  Albert 561 

E.  S.  Belknap 562 

H.  \V.  Loomis 562 

Bricks,  Sun-Dried,  Sermons  in 

Mission  San  Luis  Rcy 213 

Mission  ot  La  Purisima  Concepcion..    214 

Mission  Santa  Barbara 215 

San  tiabriel  steps 215 

Bells  of  San  Gabriel 215 

Pala  belfry 2i6 

Mission  of  San  Gabriel 516 

Bunjxalow,  How  to  Build  a 

Elevation  of  front 25+ 

Klevation  of  side ! . . .   254 

From    255 

Floor  plans 257 

Fireplace  in  living  room 259 

Alcove  off  living  room 259 

Cabinets;  see  Chests  and  Cabinets 

Ceramic  Products  of  Sevres 

Porcelain  vase 379 

Terminal  statue,  Winter,  for  open  air 

decoration   3S0 

Terminal  statue.  Summer 3S1 

Biscuit  figurine:  "Palm  Sunday" 3S2 

Porcelain  vase 383,  384,  385 

Chests  and  Cabinets 

Carved  oak  cabinet,  ex-Gov.  Dyer's. .    263 
Hispano- Moresque     cabinet;      period 

1600   264 

Colonial   chest,   once   the   property  of 

Roger  Williams 265 

Italian  wedding  coffer 266 

Modern  King  Arthur  chest 267 

Russian  iron  treasure  chest 269 

Filipino  carved  chest,  owned  by  Col. 
Dyer 270 

Ciphers,  The  Sacred 

Cretan  coin  with  gammadion 207 

Forms  of  Constantinian  ciphers.   Ro- 
man catacombs 207 

Coin  of  Constantine,  with  labarum..    209 


Coin  of  Constantine  with  the  labarum 

on  the  helmet 209 

Coin  of  Fulvius  X'alerius  Conslantinus  210 
Coin  of  Constantine,  Emperor  holding 

labarum   210 

Coin  of  Constantine,  the  labarum  on 

reverse 2!o 

Early  Christian  gem 210 

Lamp  from  catacombs 21! 

Gem  from  early  Christian  ring 21  ) 

Christian  gems 2M 

Bottom  of  an  Agapae  glass 211 

Cornelian  seal  with  clirisina  and  pa'iU  211 

English  and  French  symbols 211 

English,  15th  century,  and  mediaeval 

symbols 211 

.■\rms  of  the  Company  of  Jesus 212 

Ciphers  of  Justinian 212 

Fhe  I.  H.  S.  of  St.  Bernardin  of  Siena  212 
Clay  Modeling 

Fig.  I — Tools 490 

Fig.  2 — Hand-modeled  vases 491 

Fig.  3 — Preparatory  clay  model,  com- 
pleted   hand-mirror   carved 

in  mahogany 492 

Fig.  4 — Iris  model,  animal  head 493 


Fig. 


-Plaster    mold    and    cast    from 


wax  model  494 

Fig.  6 — Vases     executed     entirely     by 

hand    496 

Color,  .\  Note  of 

A  note  of  color 152 

Elevation  of  front 154 

Elevation  of  east  side 155 

First  floor  plan 156 

Elevation  of  west  side 157 

Second  floor  plan 158 

Elevation  of  rear .    159 

Living  room 160 

Reception  alcove  from  hall 161 

Garden  front i<>2 

Color  Prints,  Japanese 
Prints  by: 

Hiroshigi 52,  55.  5*,  57 

Haranobu  .  .  S^i  ^3 


ILLUSTRATIONS  —  Continued 


[■AGE 

l^iyokuni    60 

Sadahidi   62 

Kunioslii   64 

Shunsho 66 

Coin;  see  Honor,  A  Mark  of;  see  Ciphers. 
The  Sacred 

Cottages,  Certain  Craftsman 

Exterior  of  Cottage  A 593 

Interior    595 

First  floor  plan 594 

Second   floor  plan 594 

Exterior  of  Cottage  B 595 

Interior 595 

First  floor  plan 596 

Seccjnd  floor  plan 596 

Exterior  of  Cottage  C 597 

Interior  598 

First  floor  plan 597 

Second  floor  plan 597 

Craftsmanship  in  the  New  York  Schools 

Side  wall  for  a  nurser\' 305 

Bencli    305 

Designs  for  chair  and  benches 306 

Work  of  high  school  classes 307 

\\'oik  of  college  classes 307' 

Side  wall  for  a  library 30S 

Curtains.  Canvas,  witli  Linen  Applique 

Lotus  curtain 626 

Nightbird   motif 627 

Tliuuderbird    627 

Decoration.  The  Insect  in 

Study  of  Locust 563 

Locust  buckle   565 

Locust   comb 565 

Study  of  Hercules  beetle 566 

Mantle  clasp   567 

Stag-beetle  posed  upon  sunflowers....  568 

Stud\   of  the  locust 569 

Stud\   of  the  praying  locust 570 

l'ra\ing  locust  in  the  attitude  of  com- 

I'at    571 

I.ocvist  comb 572 

Comb   572 

Comb  573 


Decoration;  see  Rudder.  Madame  de 
Decorative  Art,  The  A  B  C  of 

Arrangement  of  lines 289- 

Picture  of  LUamaro 

From  "The  Forty-Seven  Ronins" 

'The  Resurrection" 

Madonna  and  Infant 

"The   Transfiguration" 

The  Ship  of  Forttme 

Deerfield,  Old,  From  Merton  Abbey  to 

Deerfield  workers  in  "blue  and  white" 
embroidery   

Deerfield  art  exhibit  of  1901 

Deerfield  basket  makers 

A  Lleerfield  loom 

Dining  Rooin,  A  Simple 

The  room  as  a  whole 

Table    

Chairs    

Serving  Table   

China  cabinet 

Bufl^et  and  plate  rack 

Embroiders';     see     Hingham     Arts     and 

Crafts;  see  Stenciled  Fabrics 
English     Interiors;     see    Interiors,    Recent 

English 
Fabrics,  StencileLl ;  see  Stenciled  Fabrics 
FaKe  Effort  to  be  Fine,  .A 

No.  I — Chairs  and  sofa 

No.  2 — Chair    

No.  3 — Morris  chair   

No.  4 — Chair    

No.  5 — Sideboard    

No.  6 — Dining  table   

No.  7— Cask    

Figureheads;  see  .'\rt.  A  Forgotten 
Floors,  Hardwood 

Designs 164,  165,  166, 

Franciscan  Mission  Buildings  of  Califor- 
nia 

Santa  Barbara  Mission facing 

Cloisters  of  San  Juan  Capistrano 

Santa  Barbara,  fa(;ade 

Campanile  and  side  wall,  San  Gabriel 
Archangel    


290 
291 
292 
293 
294 
295 
296 


184 
187 
188 
190 

87 
88 
89 
90 
91 
93 


621 
621 
622 
623 
623 
624 
625 


167 


321 
322 
322 

323 


ILLUSTRATIONS  -  Co„tinu.:J 


PACE 

San  Luis  Rev,  lai^aile 32+ 

Santa  Inez,  facade 326 

Santa   Inez,   side   wall,   sIiowIeijj   but- 
tress construction 32S 

East  end,  San  Gabriel 329 

Church  of  San  Carlos  Borromeo 330 

San  Carlos  Borromeo  at  Monterey...   332 

Santa  Barbara,  rear  view 333 

Furniture ;  see  Art  Nouveau,  L' ;  see  House, 
A    Craftsman;    see   Interior,   An    Eng- 
lish; see  False  Effort.  A;  see  Structure 
and  Ornament;  see  Dining  Room 
Hardwood  Floors;  see  Floors,  Hardwood 
Hingham  Arts  and  Crafts 

Burned  reed  basket 277 

Baskets,  raffia,  mat  and  palm-leaf. . . .   278 

Netted  fringes  and  mat 279 

Embroidery  and  netted  fringes 280 

Embroiderv   281 

Honor,  .A  Mark  of 

Helios 16,  21 

Sun's  disk  from  Luxor 17 

Assyrian  solar  disk iS 

Ammon-Ra  19 

Coin  of  Trajan 19 

Coin  of  Antoninus  Pius 20 

Head  of  Christ  from  catacombs 20 

Assyrian  deity;   Nineveh 21 

Vedicgod;  Hindu  Pantheon 22 

Head  of  Christ;  French,  twelfth  cent- 
ury       23 

Head  of  the  Creator;  Assyrian 23 

Hand  of  God  the  Father;  tenth  cent- 
ury       23 

God  the  Son;  French,  twelfth  century     24 

God  the  Holy  Ghost 24 

From  a  picture  of  the  .Annunciation.  .     25 

Japanese  saint 25 

The  Christ  in  majesty 26 

Head  of  angel 26 

St.  Thomas  -Aquinas  in  glory 27 

Reli<)u.iry  and  Ciborium 28 

The  Ascension 29 

Sun's  disk,  Guatemala 30 


PAGE 

House,  .-\  Craftsman 
House  Number  One: 

Exterior    398 

Front  and  side  elevations 399 

Ground  floor  plan 400 

Second  floor  plan 401 

Section  of  living  room 402 

Section  of  dining  room 404 

House  Number  Two: 

Exterior    498 

Front   elevation    499 

Side   elevation 500 

Ground  floor  plan 501 

Second  floor  plan 502 

Living  room 503 

Corner  of  living  room 505 

House  Number  Three: 

Exterior    584 

Front  elevation   585 

Side  elevation   586 

Rear  elevation 587 

Floor  plans 588 

Living  room 589 

Dining  room 590 

House;  see  Cottages;  see  Bungalow;  see 
Color,  .A  Note  of;  see  Room.  An  Ordi- 
nary; see  Dining  Room,  .A  Simple 

Indian  Art;  see  Wall  Coverings,  Nur- 
sery; see  Inventions,  Primitive 

Indians,  The,  of  the  Franciscan  Missions 

Cahuilla  house 600 

Home  of  the   Havasupai   Indians  of 

Cataract  Canyon    601 

Ho-ihitch  and  his  wife 602 

.A  Palatingvva  man 603 

Old  man  of  the  Palating^va  tribe 604 

Women  winnowing  wild  seeds 605 

Mortar  with  basket  hopper 606 

Abandoned   bird-snare 607 

Jose-Pedro  Lucero,  a  rhapsode  of  the 

Saboba  Indians  608 

Medicine-man  of  the  Cahuillas 609 

Indian  Mission  graveyard 610 

Palating\va  village,  Warner's  Ranch.   611 
Hot  springs  on  Warner's  Ranch 613 


ILLUSTRATIONS  -  Coutmud 


PAGE 

Palatiii^wa  >cout  for  Gen.  Kearney..    619 

Insect  in  Decoration ;  see  Decoration 

Interior   rrcatnients.  Recent  En^jiish 

Dining  room 50S,  509 

N'urser)    510,  511 

Inventions,  Primitive 

Blanket  of  woven   sl<lns 124 

Preparing  splints  for  basket  making. .    126 

Woman  weaving  basket 127 

Dressing  buckskin   128 

Parching  corn 129 

Spinning   130 

Loom  used  by  Navaho  and  Hopi  In- 
dians     131 

Hopi  women  building  a  bouse 132 

A  primitive  mill 133 

Pounding  beans  in  a  mortar 134 

Mortar  made  from  lava 135 

Stone  mortar  with  basket  hopper 136 

Boiling  water  in  a  basket 137 

Japanese  Art;  see  Book  Illustrations,  Jap- 
anese :  see  W'atanabe,  Seitei ;  see  Ukio- 
Ve  School 

Japanese  Book  Illustrations;  see  Book 
Illustrations,  Japanese 

Japanese  Color  Prints;  see  Color  Prints, 
Japanese 

Jarvie,  Robert,  The  Work  of;  see  Work  of 
Robert  Jarvie 

Je\velr\  :  see  -Art  Nou\'eau.  L" ;  see  Deco- 
ration,  riie  Insect  in 

Jewel r\ ,  F.nglish 

( irnaments,  chains  and  pendants.  .  .  .68,  69 

I. ace  School,  .A  CSovernment 

Lace  Collar 77,  78,  79,  80 

Centerpiece    81 

Collar   82 

Border S3 

Centerpiece    84 

Collar   85 

Lalique,  Rene 619 

Locust;  see  Decoration,  The  Insect  in 

Manual  Training  and  Citizenship 

Design  for  seat 406,  407 

Chairs 407,  408,  409 


Tables  410,  41 1 

Manual  Training  and  the  Development  of 
Taste 

Plate-rack   513 

Bench    514 

Stool   515,  516 

Book-rack   517 

Mission;  see  Indians  of  the  Franciscan 
Missions 

Mission  Buildings;  see  Franciscan  Mis- 
sions 

Mission,  Spanish;  see  Bricks,  Sun-Dried 

Mission  Style,  The  Influence  of  the,  upon 
Civic  and  Domestic  -Architecture  of  Cal- 
ifornia 

.Main  entrance,  Glenwixid  Hotel 458 

Campanile,  Glenwood  Hotel 459 

Fhe  Colonnade,  Cilenwood  Hotel 460 

Library,  Riverside 461 

Bulla  residence,  Los  Angeles 462 

Consuelo  residence.  East  Los  Angeles.   463 

Home  of  General  Otis 464 

Woman's  Club  House 465 

Hospital  at  \'entura 465 

Harvard  Memorial  School 466 

Residence  of  Mrs.  Meeker 466 

"The  Cuno,"  Phoenix,  Arizona 467 

State    Technical     School,     San     Luis 

Obispo  468 

Design  for  public  library 468 

Design  for  a  count\  court  house 469 

Needlework.  Art,  in  Newcomb  College 

Frie/e  with  china  ball  tree  motif .  .  .  .   282 

Design  on  brown  homespun 282 

Wall-hanging 283 

.Applique  for  change  of  texture 2S3 

Wall-hanging 284 

Free  use  of  stitches  and  broken  color.   284 

^^'all-hanging,  magnolia  mollf 2S5 

Haning,  woodland  scene 2S5 

Newcomb  College;  see  Needlework;  see 
Art  Industry  of  the  BaMius 

Notes 

.\  dream  of  \A'histler 316 


-ILLUSTRATIONS  —  C',ntnuu;l 


I'AGE 

Olmsted,  Frederick  Law,  The  Art  of;  see 

Art  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 
Ornament ;  see  Structure  and  Ornament 

Centerpiece +49 

Ornament,   The  Adaptation  of,  to  Space 

Letter  head 470 

Designs  by: 

Verneuil    470 

Oufrene  4"°.  47' 

Bcncdictus 473,  474 

Mucha   475.  47* 

Auriol  477,  478 

Simas   479i  480 

Cirasset  4S1,  4S2 

Lalique  4^3 

Parks;  see  Art  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 
Pictured  Poesies 
Rebus  of: 

Beckv  ngton    24° 

Langton    241 

Ramridge    24' 

Islip 242,  243 

Bolton  243 

Arundel    243 

Newdigates   243 

Bolton    (detail) 244 

Shelton    244 

Pillows,  Three  Craftsman  Canvas 

Pillows,  Pine  Tree,  Deer,  Bear  motifs     94 
Portieres,  Craftsman  Canvas 

Pine  tree  curtains 160,  170 

Potterv;  see  Art  Nouveau,  L';  see  Art  In- 
dustry; see  Ceramic  Products;  see  Clay 
Modeling 
Primitive      Inventions;      See      Inventions, 

Primitive 
Rebus;  see  Pictured  Poesies 
Rodin,  Auguste 

Auguste  Rodin facing  525 

Panorama  of  Paris 526 

Rodin's  studio-museum 527 

Interior  of  studio-museum 528 

Rodin  at  work 529 

Statue  in  garden 53° 

Group,  Burghers  of  Calais 531 


I'ACF. 

Details  from  group 533,  534 

Portrait-bust.  Luxembourg 535 

Portrait-bust  of  Puvis  dc  Chavannes.    536 

Portrait-bust    537 

Statue  of  Balzac 538 

St.    John    Baptist,    from   the   Luxem- 

I'ourg 539 

The  bronze  age 540 

.■\  contracted  hand 541 

The  Waves 542 

The  Metamorphosis 543 

The  Kiss   544 

Room,  .\\\  Ordinary,  What  may  be  Done 
with 

View   ot    room 168 

Rudder,   Mailame  de,  .A   Belgian  Decora- 
tive .Artist 

Decorative  border:  Winter 171 

Prudence    172 

"There  was  a  Shepherdess" 173 

"In  the  Moonlight" 173 

Decorative  border:  .Autumn 174 

Panel:  Spring  175 

Panel:  Summer 177 

Panel :  .Autumn  .  .• 179 

Panel :  Winter  i8i 

Russians,  The  Racial  .Art  of  the 

Sacred  Ciphers;  see  Ciphers,  Sacred 

Scarfs,  Table,  with  Indian  Designs 

The  -'Cross  of  Life"  motij 507 

Thunder  bird 507 

Free  molij 5°? 

Schools,    Craftsmanship    in;    see    Crafts- 
manship in  New  York 

Shepherds,  The facing  207 

Silversmith's  .Art,  The 
In  the  Middle  Ages: 

Rock  crystal  vase ■  "4 

Porphyry  vase "5.  "<> 

Silver  crucifix    '17 

Chalice    of    Saint-Remy    processional 

cross    ''9 

Silver  reliquary '20 

Silver  reliquary  from  Charroux...i2i,  122 


ILLUSTRATIONS—  Co/;/////W 


Patriarchal    cross     in    gilded     silver, 

Louvre   123 

XIII,  XIV  and  XV  Centuries; 

Reliquary  from  Charroux 21S 

Samson  reliquar\',  Reims 219 

Flemish  reliquary 220 

Virgin  and  child  in  silver  repousse.  .  .    221 

(ierman  helt  and  buckle 224 

(lerman   wine   tankard 225 

tjerman  jug   226 

French  cruet 227 

Reliquary  containing  ]')f)rtion  of  arms 

of  saint 227 

French  reliquary   228 

Monstrance    228 

Chalice  229 

Shrine  of  St.  Taurin 230 

Reliijuary  ot  Sainte  .^Idegonde 232 

Monstrance 233 

XVI,  XVII  and  Will  Centuries: 

Group  in  silver  and  enamel 336 

Reli(|uary  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre 337 

\'essel  of  Saint  Ursula 338 

"Ship"  of  St.  Nicholas  of  the  Port.  .  .  .    339 

Farnese  siUer  casket .    340 

Centaur  Nessus  and  Dejanira 341 

Sih'er  plates    342 

Silver  e\ver 343 

Spoons  and   forks  from  Popen,  Cour- 

land    344 

Ebony  and  silver  reliquary 345 

Clborium  in  gilded  silver 346 

Chalice  346 

Casket  in  gold 347 

Cotfee  pot  and  chafing  dish 347 

Tankards   and    hanap 348 

Candlesticks 340,  349 

Milk  jug 351 

Tray  and  cruets 352 

Coffee  pot 353 

Soup  tureens 3  54 

Centerpiece  from  Riga 355 

Silver  vases  from  Cassel 356 

In  Contemporary  France: 

Mirror facing  423 


P.KC.t 

Reliquaries 433,  434 

Cross    434 

Shrines 435,  436 

Monstrances   437,  438 

\'irgin  and  child 439,  440 

Shrines 439,  440 

Reli<iuary  440 

Chapel  lamp   441 

Candlestick  and  urn 441 

Cruets    441 

Reliquary    tube    442 

Croziers    442 

Chalices  442,  443 

Tea  and  cotfee  ser\ice 443.   |  ]  ] 

Coffee  pot  444 

Tea  urn   443 

Centerpieces 445,  446,  447 

Servers 447,  448 

S\camore  tea  and  coffee  ser\'ice 

450,  451,  452 

\'ase   452,  453 

Sugar  bowl 433 

Goblet    453 

Mirrors    454 

Basket  454 

\'ases 454,  455 

Tea  service 456 

Jardiniere     456 

Powder  box   457 

Tray    458 

Egg  set 457 

Stenciled     Fabrics     in    Combination     with 
Peasant  Embroidery 

Portion  of  friezes 286,  2S7 

Cotton  velvet  tor  hangings 288 

Portiere    288 

Structure  and  Ornament  in  the  Craftsman 
Workshops 

Screen   390 

Chair   391 

Cabinet    392 

Table   393 

Desk  394 

Table    395 

Chair   396 


ILLUSTRATIONS  —  Cry////«//.v/ 


PACE 

"To  These  Belong  the  World  and  the  Fu- 
ture"  facing    I 

Toys,  Simple,  The  Child  Benefited  by 

Border  of  cats 298 

Scarecrow  man 298 

Basswood  beast   298 

Theological  bird   299 

Amafula  tree  299 

Fin-pendulum  man 299 

Jungleark    300 

Dinkey  bird  300 

Dresden  toy 300,  301 

Steam,  inlay  302 

Wind,  inlay  303 

Rooks,  inlay 304 

Village  Improvement  in  the  United  States 

Lexington  Common,  1775 +23 

Lexington  Common,  1904 425 

Diagram  of  open  spaces  of  Boston.  .  .  426 
Diploma  of  the  Springfield  Tree  Pro- 
tecting Society  428 

Newton  Highlands 429 

Kindergarten  at  Menomonie 430 

Main  St ,  South  Hadley,  Mass 431 

Wall  Coverings,  Nursery 

The  elements 95 

The  thunder  bird 96 

The  storm 97 

The  forest   98 


I'ACK 
rile  happy  luinting  grounds 99 

Waianabe,  Seitei 

Swallow  and  maple  tree 386 

Book-cover 387 

Birds    388 

Peonies 389 

Whistler ;  see  Notes 

Wood,  The  I'se  of,  in  Switzerland 

A  place  of  prayer 32 

A  village  in  the  Rhone  valley 32 

A  mountain  saw   mill 33 

Chalet   33 

A  chalet  balcony 34 

A  street  of  chalets 34 

A  harmony  of  nature  and  structure.  .      36 

Effect  of  timber  construction 36 

\N'ood-carver's  shop 38 

Chalet  with  side  entrance 38 

Door  of  an  old  chalet 40 

Wood-carvers  at  work 40 

Work  of  Robert  Jarvie 

Iron  grease  lamp 271 

Petticoat  lamp 272 

Dutch  lantern 273 

Candlestick 273,  274 

Iron  lantern 274 

Tin  grease  lamp 275 

Candlesticks 276 

Workers,  The  facing  1 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


Vol.   V 


OCTOHKH    i'.>();5 


No.   1 


L'ART  XOLVEAU\ 

S.  15 1  NO 
Translated  from  the  French  l>v  Ihexk  Saii<;kxt 


THE  CRAFTSMAN  liaving  decid- 
ed to  open  its  columns  to  a  discus- 
sion of  "L'Art  Nouveau:  its  Sig- 
nificance and  Value,"  the  initial 
article  appeared  in  December,  1902,  over 
the  signature  of  Professor  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin 
of  Columbia  University.  This  article  ac- 
tuated a  reph'  from  M.  Jean  Soliopfer  of 
Paris,  which  was  published  in  the  June 
issue,  1903.  And  now  it  would  seem  fit- 
ting, before  closing  the  debate,  to  hear  the 
argument  of  the  one  who,  eiglit  years  since, 
had  tiie  good  fortune  of  aiding  the  latent 
aspirations  of  the  period  to  assume  a  visible 
existence,  and  of  serving  as  sponsor  to  the 
new  life. 

The  article  of  Professor  Hamlin  is  with- 
out doubt  one  of  the  most  conscientious  and 
impartial  studies  of  the  question  that  have 
3'et   appeared.     I   am,   however,    far   from 

•  In  the  yeiir  1K95,  the  writer  of  these  pages 
founded  in  the  rue  de  Provence,  Paris,  a  center 
open  to  all  the  forces  of  artistic  innovation.  In 
order  to  desi^ate  the  tendencies  of  this  enter- 
prise, he  devised  the  title  of  L'Arl  Nouveau,  with- 
out suspecting  then  that  this  comhination  of  words 
would  gain  the  doubtful  honor  of  serving  as  a 
label  for  miscellaneous  creations,  some  of  whicli 
were  to  reach  the  limits  of  license  and  foUy. 


sharing  all  the  ideas  of  the  writer,  and, 
although  some  points  have  already  found 
an  eloquent  opponent  in  M.  Schopfer,  I 
willingly  again  revert  to  them. 

To  begin:  I  fully  support  Professor 
Hamlin,  when  he  opens  the  discussion  witii 
tlie  following  statement: 

"  ^L\trt  Xoureau'  is  the  name  of  a  move- 
ment, not  of  a  style;  it  has  come  into  use 
to  designate  a  great  variety  in  forms  and 
development  of  design,  which  have  in  com- 
mon little,  except  an  underlying  character 
against  the  commonplace.   .   .   ." 

I  interrupt  the  quotation  at  this  point 
because  I  do  not  agree  with  the  end  of  the 
sentence,  which  declares  that  the  followers 
of  the  movement  concur  only  in  "their  com- 
mon hatred  of  the  historical  style." 

Before  presenting  my  objections,  I  must 
say  tiiat  it  appears  to  me  illogical  to  apply 
the  same  scale  of  criticism  to  two  sides  of 
the  question  which  can  not  be  included 
within  the  same  field  of  vision.  A  separate 
judgment  nuist  be  granted  to  tiie  initial 
principle  of  the  movement  and  the  infinite 
multiplicity  of  its  applications,  which  are 
all  individual  and  a  forced  combination  of 
tiie  good,  the  indifferent  and  the  bad. 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 

1.    THK  P1UNC-IPL1-;  OF  L'AKT  NOUVEAU  ,.„^M  \,,,M   according  to  his  own  desires. 

IS  it  accurate  to  say  that  no  definite  aim  Therefore,  there  was  no  pre-conceived  idea, 

has  been  generated  by  L'Art  lYowtrae/,  no  restraint  as  to  tlie  form  of  expression, 

and  tliat  its  disciples  are  united  only  But  there  was,  nevcrtlieless,  a  common  idea : 

by  a  negation.''      The  truth  is  this:  that  no  differing  from  the  one  ascribed  to  the  fol- 

definite  style  was  prescribed,  since  the  work  lowers    of    L'Art    Nouveau    by    Professor 

to  be  done  was  a  work  of  liberation.      The  Hamlin.      The  true  bond  between  the  inno- 


Ni'i'klace:  gold  I'li.uiirl,  pcriils  and ili:iiiiciiiils:  designed  by  Cohinna 


title  of  L'Art  Xoii-,ran  designated  a  field  vators  resided  in  the  hatred  of  stagnation, 
lying  outside  tiie  narrow  boundaries  witiiin  If.  therefore,  Professor  Hamlin  is  right  in 
which,  beneath  the  pressure  of  a  time-  speaking  of  a  negation  as  the  point  of  de- 
honored  slavery,  a  class  of  tkgenerate  parture  of  the  new  movement,  this  negation 
prochicts  was  approaching  extinction.  It  consisted  solely  in  an  energetic  protest 
designated  a  free  soil  u})on  which  any  one  against    the    hiatus    wliich,    for    an    entire 


L'ART   XOl'VEAU' 


century,  had  suspended  animation  in  that 
brancli  of  art.  Far  from  proceeding  as 
Nihilists,  the  initiators  of  L'Art  Xom-eati 
sought  beneath   tlie   accumulated   asiies   of 


Teapot:  silver:  dt-si^iUMl  bv  ' 

old  systems  the  spark  of  that  former  life 
which  had  developed  the  arts  of  the  people, 
slowh',  generation  after  generation,  from 
the  distant  cradle  of  human  civilization 
down  to  the  sudden  paralysis  caused  by  the 
brutal  shock  of  the  French  Revolution. 

Here,  therefore,  side  by  side  with  the 
departure  "from  a  fixed  point"  there  is  a 
first  step  "toward  one:"  an  initial  agree- 
ment established  in  view  of  an  "affirmative 
purpose,"  consisting  in  the  determination 
not  to  despise  the  work  of  our  predecessors, 
but  to  do  what  they  would  have  done  in 
our  place:  they  who  would  never  have  de- 
based themselves  to  counterfeit  the  genius 
of  their  ancestors ;  who  would  never  have 
wished  to  sterilize  the  genius  of  their  own 
generation. 

But  our  minds  being  heavily  burdened 
with  old  memories,  how  was  it  possible  to 
resume  the  march  of  progress  so  long  in- 
terrupted?    Where     seek     a     trustworthy 


guide?  What  rules  were  to  be  observed? 
A  revei-sion  to  free  Nature  could  alone  re- 
store and  rejuvenate  our  spirits.  From 
this  infallible  code  of  all  the  laws  of  beauty 
we  were  forced  to  ask  the  secret  of  a  new 
advance,  capable  of  enriching  the  old  form- 
ulas with  a  new  power  of  development. 
And  this  development  it  was  necessary  to 
urge  forward  in  a  manner  conformable  to 
all  other  branches  of  contemporaneous 
aesthetics,  in  a  manner  adequate  to  our 
form  of  society  and  our  actual  needs.  In  a 
word,  we  were  forced  to  subordinate  tiie 
general  character  of  our  environment  to 
all  the  conditions  of  modern  life.  It  was 
necessary,  at  the  same  time,  to  restore  cer- 
tain essential  principles  which  had  long 
previously  fallen  into  neglect.  These 
necessities  were:  to  subject  each  object  to 
a  strict  system  of  logic  relative  to  the  use 


iirooch:  eoUl  c-uauiel  und  ivury,  by  Murccl  Uiuc 

for  which  it  is  destined  and  to  the  material 
from  which  it  is  formed;  to  emphasize 
purely  organic  structure,  especially  in  cab- 
inet-making; to  show  clearly  tiie  part 
played  by  every  detail  in  the  architecture 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


of  an  object;  to  avoid,  as  one  would  flee 
from  leprosy,  the  falsehood  of  a  fictitious 
luxury  consisting  in  falsifying  every  ma- 
terial and  in  carrying  ornament  to  ex- 
tremes. 

Such,  in  essence,  are  the  principles  which 
formed  the  basis  of  agreement  for  the  ini- 
tiators of  the  movement,  whose  effects,  dur- 
ing its  active  period,  we  are  now  to  observe. 

THE  PRODUCTIONS  OF  L'ART  NOUVEAU 

IT  has  seemed  to  me  judicious   not   to 
confuse  the  doctrines  which  gave  birth 
to  UArt   Nouvcau  with   the  applica- 
tions which  liavc  been  made  of  it.      I  shall 


Electri"-  I.aiiii':  "Pi'lTi-laine  Lciu-oik 
ilc-:sit,'Uoil  by  Culonua 


protest  much  more  strenuously  against  the 
custom  of  subjecting  all  these  productions 
indiscriminately    to    a    sole    and    summary 
judgment.     I    do    not    direct    my    protest 
against     Professor     Hamlin,     nor     solely 
against  the  very  limited  number  of  other 
writers  who  have  treated  the  question :     I 
accuse  the  whole  body  of  art  critics  of  hav- 
ing,   in    this    instance,    seriously    failed   in 
professional   duty.      In   the   presence   of  a 
sudden   and   disconcerting   growtli,   in   the 
face  of  the  daily  mounting  flood  of  produc- 
tions   contrasting   not   only    by    reason   of 
their  novelty  with  familiar  forms,  but  often 
also  differing  among  themselves,  the  critics 
have    left    the    public    absolutely    without 
guidance.      The    special    publications    de- 
voted to  applied  art,  which  ai'ose  in  great 
number,  had  no  object  other  than  to  make 
pass  in  review  before  the  eyes  of  the  reader 
(it  were  better  to  say  the  spectator),  after 
the  manner  of  a  kaleidoscope,  in  a  chance 
order  of  ajipearance,  the  assemblage  of  all 
new  efforts,  wlietlier  more  or  less  success- 
ful.     But   among  those   who   assumed   the 
somewhat  grave  responsibility  of  instruct- 
ing the  public  regarding  the  artistic  phe- 
nomena of  each  day,  among  those  even  who 
declared  with  emphasis  that  there  should  no 
longer  be  an  aristocratic  art,  and  that  all 
artistic  manifestations:  painting,  sculpture 
or  the  products  of  the  industrial  arts,  had 
equal   rank,   no  one  assumed  the  duty   of 
making  a  serious  study  of  this  subject, — 
that  is,  no  one  in  position  to  speak  with 
authority.     UArt  Nouveau,  it  is  true,  if  it 
be  considered  as  a  whole,  has  no  cohesive 
principle.*      It  could  not  have  such,  when 

♦Professor  Hamlin  rightfully  says:  "Its  ten- 
dencies are  for  tlie  present  divergent  and  separa- 
tive." 


L'ART   NOUVEAU 


employing  its  activity'  upon  a  virgin  soil, 
in  a  field  where  every  one  was  bound  to 
display  his  individual  temperament.  Hut 
in  the  midst  of  the  myriad  attempts  whose 
tangled  skein  can  not  be  straightened  by 
the  layman,  we,  the  critics,  point  out  cer- 
tain efforts,  each  one  of  which  in  the  re- 
spect that  concerns  it,  converges  toward  a 
definite  ideal,  an  aim  clearly  perceived. 
We  say:  Reject  the  mass  of  worthless 
efforts,  eliminate  all  abortive  work,  imita- 
tions, and  commercial  products,  but  save 
from  irreparable  destruction  anything  that 
can  contribute,  though  it  were  only  as  a 
very  germ,  to  future  fertility,  if  j-ou  do 
not  intend  to  pronounce  death  sentence 
upon  all  those  of  our  faculties  whose  exer- 
cise beautifies  our  dwellings ! 

It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  I  should 
produce  in  these  pages  an  extended  critical 
work.  Not  only  would  my  militant  atti- 
tude in  the  question  prevent  me  from  such 
audacitj',  but  such  an  endeavor  would  con- 
siderably exceed  the  limits  of  the  present 
plan.  I  shall  content  myself  with  making 
here  a  rapid  examination  of  the  path  fol- 
lowed by  L'Art  Nouveau:  beginning  with 
its  first  general  manifestation,  which,  as  I 
have  previouslj'  stated,  occurred  in  1895, 
in  the  galleries  of  the  Rue  de  Provence, 
Paris. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which,  for  the 
moment,  triuniplied  in  this  fateful  struytrle 
— tho  chorus  of  approval,  or  the  cries  of 
indignation.  The  fact  remains  that  the 
impression  then  made  was  powerful 
enough  to  create  a  large  following  of  re- 
cruits, impatient  to  enroll  themselves  be- 
neath the  banner  displayed  by  the  van- 
guard. Unhappily,  it  is  much  easier  to 
submit  a  new  order  of  productions  to  public 


examination  tiian  to  Tnako  the  public  un- 
derstand tiic  reasons  which  governed  the 
creation  of  such  objects  and  prescribed  to 
tliem  their  forms.      The  adepts  of  the  sec- 


Ilami-mirror:  silver  bi' 


id  liy  Mnrcc'l  BiiiK 


ond  hour  were  divided  into  different  classes. 
There  were  artists,  sculptors  or  painters 
whose  somewhat  vagabond  imagination  was 
more  familiar  with  dreams  and  poetry  than 
with  practical  ideas.  They  designed  tables 
supported  by  nymphs  with  soft,  sinuous 
bodies,  or  by  strange  figures  savage  in  their 
symbolism,  with  muscles  swollen  and  writh- 
ing  under  efforts   which   had   no  sign   of 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


humanity.  There  were  also  young  middle 
class  women  who  abandoned  tlie  needle,  the 
crochet-hook  and  the  piano, that  they  might 
pyrograve  leather,  or  hammer  cojiper  into 


l'riMl;iiii :  u>.hl  .  iMiiicl  and  iii-arl;  desigDed  liy  Coloniui 

works  wliich  were  almost  touching  in  their 
artistic  poverty :  all  these  being,  of  course, 
more  or  less  sedative  and  too  restricted  in 
their  reach  to  compromise  seriously  the 
good  cause  and  prevent  its  progress.  The 
dangerous  evil :  that  which  could  strike  at 
the  vital  part  of  the  idea,  and  possibly 
occasion  its  utter  failure,  was  to  arise  else- 
where. 

Throughout  the  course  of  history  no 
epoch-making  idea  of  idealistic  tendencies 
has  ever  arisen,  which  has  not  been  quickly 
counterfeited  by  the  armj'  of  profit-seekers 
who   have  enrolled   tliemselves   beneath   its 


banner  to  protect  their  purely  mercantile 
schemes.      But    never,    perhaps,    has    this 
phenomenon   been   so   strikingly    instanced 
as  in  the  case  in  point.      Owing  to  the  fee- 
ble state  of  certain  industries,  as,  for  exam- 
ple, that  of  cabinet-making, an  opportunity 
was  afforded  to   profit  by   the  effect   pro- 
duced by  the  rise  of  L'Art  Nouveau.     But 
it  must  not  be  believed  that,  spurred  by  this 
imjjulse,  the  leaders  of  industry  set  them- 
selves without  loss  of  time  to  a  deep  study 
of    the    necessary    principles.      Far    from 
that !      Nothing,  in  their  minds,  was  more 
easj^  than  to  produce  L'Art  Xoinrau,  since 
that,  according  to  tlieir  j)()int  of  view,  must 
be  simply  the  art  of  improvising  something 
else   than   tlie   works    of   yesterday.      They 
tiiereforc  gave  the  pencil  int<i  the  liands  of 
their  designers  with  orders  to  trace  upon 
the  paper  outlines  interlacing  in  all  direc- 
tions,  writhing   into   fantastic   expansions, 
meeting  in  snail-spirals,  framing  asymmet- 
rical panels  within  which  l)loomed  the  re- 
production of  some  natural  grow  th, exact  to 
the  point  of  photography.      In  fact,  it  was 
not  difficult  to  produce  L\irt  Nouveau  of 
this   species.      Nor   was   it   costly,   since   it 
required  neither  preliminary  studies,  nor  the 
use  of  valuable  material,  nor  great  care  in 
execution.      The    product    was    abundant, 
too   abundant,   and   the   public,    accepting 
the  name  for  the  thing  in  itself,  did  not 
hesitate  to  accept   this  product   under  the 
official  title  whicli  assured  its  success.      It 
need  not  be  explained  that  the  more  eccen- 
tric it  was,  the  more  quickly  it  was  received 
as   L'Art  Nouveau.     I   might — but   I   re- 
frain— cite  the  instance  of  a  museum,  the 
most  famous  of  its  class,  whose  representa- 
tive   selected    for    his    collections    a    coffer 
overburdened  with  fantastic  floriated  orna- 


I/AllT   NOUVEAU 


niciit,  preferably  to  a  wardrobe  full  of  sviii- 
nictrical  grace;  explaining  nieiinwhile  that 
the  character  of  tlie  latter  piece  was  not 
siitficiently  accentuated  to  deserve  the  name 
of  UArt  Xouvcau. 

But  slowly,  vision  having  grown  more 
experienced  and  critical,  begins  to  distin- 
guish the  true  from  the  false.  In  the 
midst  of  the  obscuring  chaos,  there  are  dis- 
cernible clear  ideals  of  art  tending  toward 
a  definite  purpose.  The  work  of  elimina- 
tion being  complete,  each  one  will  diooso 
the  species  of  production  tliat  slial!  ix^t 
adapt  itself  to  his  taste,  while  waiting  for 
future  generations — the  supreme  judges 
of  men  and  things — to  make  final  classifica- 
tion, according  to  degrees  of  merit.  Fu- 
ture judges  will  all  acknowledge  the  indeli- 
ble mark  of  our  epoch,  without  it  being 
necessary,  as  Professor  Hamlin  would  de- 
sire, for  all  our  artists  to  concur  in  an  abso- 
hite  identity  of  st_vle,  as  once  they  did. 
Such  freedom  will  leave  a  wider  field  open 
to  the  imagination  of  tiiose  who  create,  and 
will  permit  each  individual  to  impriss  his 
personality  upon  the  places  in  wliicli  he 
passes  his  life.  Far  from  regretting  this 
variety  in  the  forms  of  expression,  let  us 
enjoy  the  proffered  riches,  and  let  us  now 
seek  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  origin 
and  the  nature  of  these  divergences  as  well 
as  to  compare  their  merit. 

Two  principal  and  parallel  currents  can 
be  discerned  in  the  direction  of  the  move- 
ment :  the  .system  of  purely  ornamental 
lines  already  indicated  by  Professor  Ham- 
lin, and  the  svstem  of  floral  elements ;  each 
of  the  two  systems  having  fervent  cham- 
])ioiis  and  active  detractors.  In  every  new 
cause  it  is  well  that  uncompromising  ele- 
ments arise,  exaggerating  partial  virtues, 


which  later,  wisely  proportiom-d,  unite  in 
a  definitive,  well-balanced  whole.  The  diver- 
gence in  the  first  ])liasis  of  L'.lrt  Notaeau 
are  attrilnitable  less  to  questions  of  individ- 
ual temperament  than  to  questions  of  race. 
In  these  first  phases,  the  principal  ])art  was 
not  played  by  (he  country  which  had  long 
occupied  the  first  j)lace  in  Kurojican  deco- 
rative art.      France  remained  .ittaclK  il  «  llh 


I'endant:  cold  ciiiiinid  iin<I  pearl,  by  Marcel  Bine 

what  nnglit  almost  jje  termed  j)atriotic  ten- 
derness to  traditions  whose  roots  struck  into 
the  lowest  (lej)tlis  of  the  soil  of  the  father- 
land. 

The  initial  movement,  .is  Professor  Ham- 
lin himself  observes,  began  in  Kngland, 
under  the  influence  of  the  Prellaphaelites 
and  the  ideas  of  lluskin,  and  was  carri<'d 
into    jjractical    affairs    by    the    admirable 

7 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


genius  of  William  Morris.      But  if  insur-  To   Belgium   belongs   in   all  justice   the 

rection  arose  then  against  the  frightful  honor  of  having  first  devised  truly  modern 
ugliness  of  contemporary  productions,  it  formulas  for  the  interior  decoration  of 
did  not  declare  the   imperative  need   of  a      European  dwellings.  * 

renewal  of  youth  conformable  to  the  mod-  In  the  year  189-1<  there  was  founded  at 

crn  spirit.  Highly  aristocratic  natures,  Brussels,  under  the  guidance  of  M.  Octave 
who  would  willingly  have  witnessed  the 
destruction  of  railways  guilty  of  killing 
the  beauty  of  the  landscape — such  as  these 
necessarily  produced  works  echoing  the  art 
of  primitive  times  dominated  by  the  poetry 
of  an  abstract  dream.  They  projected 
over  the  world  a  soft  light,  full  of  charm 
indeed,  but  which,  as  a  distant  reflection  of 
extinct  suns,  could  not  have  a  ])rolonged 
existence,  nor  even  a  warmth  sufficient  to 
light  new  centers.  This  episode  will  re- 
main in  the  history  of  art  as  an  attractive 
clia2)ter  too  rapidly  closed.    Latterl}^  Eng" 


Platf :  "Porcelaiiie  Leuconoe";  desij^iu'd  by  di*  Feure 

Maus,  a  society  of  artists  designated  as 
La  librc  Esthctique,  having  as  its  object  to 
assemble  in  an  annual  exhibition  all  works 
of  essentially  modern  character.  This  was 
the  first  occasion  when  the  aristocratic  arts 
of  painting  and  sculjtture  admitted  without 
blushing  to  their  companionship  the  com- 
monalty of  industrial  productions.  Al- 
ready there  appeared  manifestations  of  a 
real  value,  the  outcome  of  reflective  minds 
steadily  pursuing  individual  aims.  I  have 
alwaj's  retained  a  most  favorable  memory 
of    certain    model    tenements    exhibited    at 

*In  order  not  to  extend  unduly  the  length  of 
this   article,   I   nmst   set   aside  architecture,   which, 


L.u, 


^'ihmI  Iiy  ( 'olinina 


land  has  taken  a  new  direction   under  the 

guidance    of     numerous     artists,     the     most  it  nmst  he  said,  has-  not  sufficiently  acknowledged 

.    J      „      ,                             ,.          1  I       T>      r  the   progress    of    other    branches    of   art    which    it 

noted  oi  whom  are  mentioned  by  1  rotessor  ,      ,,  ,              .  .    ,     .        ..   ,    ,       ,         ,     , 

should   have   assisted,  since    it    had    not,   as   leader 

Hamlin.      Among  them  only  a  fraction  are  ^nd  chief,  been  able  to  guide  them  by  a  bold  initi- 

faithful  to  the  Morris  traditions.  ative. 


I/AUT    NOUVEAU 


La  libie  Esthetique  by  Scrruricr-Rovv  of 
Liege,  who  had  succeeded  in  uniting  with 
a  low  net  cost  all  desirable  requisites  of 
beauty,  hygiene  and  comfort.  But  the 
man  sufficiently  gifted  to  engender  reallv 
bold  ideas  and  to  realize  them  in  all  the 
perfection  permitted  by  their  species,  was 
Henri  van  de  ^'elde,  professor  of  aesthetics 
at  one  of  the  free  institutions  at  Brussels. 
He  executed  in  1895  for  the  establishment 
of  L\4rf  Xonveau,  Paris,  a  series  of  inte- 
riors, which  he  followed  by  other  works  ex- 
hibited at  Dresden  in  1897,  and  which  not 
only  constituted  in  Europe  the  first  impor- 
tant examples  (ensembles)  of  modern  dec- 
orative art,  but  have  since  remained  the 
most  perfect  types  of  the  species.  This 
species  was  the  development  of  the  line — 
the  decorative  line  shown  in  its  full  and 
single  power. 

The  cradle  of  this  species  of  art  was, 
therefore,  Belgium,  the  country  belonging 
to  the  Flemish  race,  whose  tranquil  and 
positive  mind  demanded  an  art  of  austere 
character  adapted  to  patriarchal  customs : 
hostile  to  the  principles  of  the  light  fancv 
which  willingly  takes  inspiration  from  the 
slender  grace  of  the  flower.  If,  through 
an  apparent  failure  in  logic,  Fnincc  .served 
as  the  .stage  for  the  first  appearance  of  an 
art  so  little  French  in  its  essence,  it  was 
because  at  that  time,  only  eight  years  since, 
there  was  as  yet  nothing  beside  it;  no  con- 
ception sufficiently  mature  to  serve  the 
projected  uprisal  which  had  as  its  first 
aim  to  sound  the  awakening  call,  while 
waiting  to  give  later  an  impetus  and  aim 
more  conformable  to  the  national  spirit. 

In  Germany,  the  situation,  for  several 
rea.sons,  was  altogether  different.  First,  a 
close  relationship  unites  the  German   with 


the  Flemish  character.  Further,  it  must 
be  recognized  that  Germany,  long  wanting 
ill  intuition,  has  always  .shown  a  great  re- 
ceptivity toward  all  external  influences. 
Now,  the  novelty  .shown  in  the  exhibits  of 
L'Art  Xoui'eau,  Paris,  at  the  Dresden  Ex- 
position of  1897,  produced  an  impression 
strong  enough  to  be  echoed  throughout 
Germany :  this  was  the  real  point  of  de- 


Pi-n<lunt;  i^nld  t'liuliU'l,  by  Miin*<-I  (lim; 

parture  for  the  German  Art  Noux'enu,  to 
the  develoj)ment  of  which,  van  de  Veldc, 
afterward  called  into  the  country,  himself 
contributed.  Austria,  who,  in  previous 
vi'iir--.   Ii.-id   madly  abandoned   iiersclf  to  a 


■ — '^^^ 


10 


L'ART   NOUVEAU 


sort  of  art  l\)r  exportation  liovisid  by 
England  for  the  use  of  the  iintliink- 
in;^-  masses  of  tlie  continent.  foUowid, 
in  lier  turn,  the  same  path.  By  a  kind  of 
fatal  law  all  imitators  seem  condumnctl  to 
an  impulse  of  exaggeration,  wliicli  ciianges 
into  shocking  defects  all  doubtful  portions 
and  details  of  the  model.  It  was  thus  that 
in  Germany  and  especially  in  Austria  the 
insistent  scourge  of  tortured,  swollen  and 
tentacular  lines  grew  more  and  more  ag- 
gravated,   thus    causing    an     ai)use    most 


these  qualities,  if  tiiey  are  fornndated  into 
intangible  and  exclusive  rules,  gives  rise  to 
a  monotony  which  does  not  delay  its  aji- 
jiearance.  Quickly  the  artist  reaches  the 
limits  of  his  possibilities,  inspiration  ceases, 
and  astonishment  arises  at  the  fact  that  all 
power  was  expended  in  the  initial  effort. 

At  such  a  moment  it  is  evident  that  a 
return  to  Divine  Nature,  always  fresh  and 
new  in  her  counsels,  can  solely  and  inces- 
santly restore  failing  inspiration.  In  re- 
viewing the  history  of  the  decorative  art.s  in 


Tuilt-t  Httx;  porrflain 

harmful  to  the  reputation  of  L'Art  Nou- 
veau.  Artists  of  solid  worth  have,  never- 
theless, arisen  in  the  Teutonic  countries, 
but  they  have  need  of  casting  ott'  the  for- 
eign impedimenta  wliich  weights  their  in- 
spiration and  occasions  the  cruel  errors  by 
which  the  taste  of  Professor  Hamlin  is 
so  justly  offended  in  presence  of  the  works 
of  the  Darmstadt  colony :  a  body  now  dis- 
persed. 

To  sum  uj),  we  may  say  that  combina- 
tions purely  linear  permit  the  designer  to 
obtain,  particularly  in  cabinet-making, 
broad  and  robust  effects,  a  clear  and  logical 
structural    arrangement.      The    reverse    of 


.Icsiirn.-.i  l.y  (1.-  F.ur- 

France,  one  will  remark  that  always  the 
artists  of  this  country,  with  the  exception 
of  those  of  the  sixteenth  and  a  part  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  have  had  an  acute 
sense  of  this  truth.  By  receiving  inspira- 
tion from  these  lovers  of  nature,  the  artists 
of  our  own  time  will  accomplish  each  day 
more  hapjjily  a  difficult  task  which  they 
alone,  perhaps,  arc  capable  of  fulfilling. 
The  work  before  them  consists  in  fusing 
into  a  harmonious  whole  the  two  apparently 
hostile  principles  of  robustness  and  grace: 
the  solid  and  crude  art  asserted  by  the 
Northern  countries,  and  the  delicate  refine- 
ment pecidiar  to  the  Latin   races ;  it  con- 

II 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


sists  in  giving  prominence  to  the  strongest 
structural  laws  with  a  constant  regard  for 
practical  results ;  but,  at  tiie  same  time,  in 
banishing  all  heaviness  of  effect,  all  ster- 
ility of  line,  and,  if  the  limits  of  value  per- 
mit, in  adding  a  flavor  of  fine  elegance ;  it 
consists,  in  a  word,  in  satisfying  the 
demands  of  strict  logic,  in  providing 
pleasure  for  the  eye,  and  even  in  inviting 
the  caress  of  the  touch.  Thus  will  France 
prove  that,  during  her  long  sleep,  she  has 
not  allowed  the  qualities  with  which  Nature 


Boiidiiir  Chair:  desigiu'il  liy  do  Fi-ui' 


SO  generously  endowed  her  to  fall  into  de- 
cline. 

But  the  influence  of  France  will  never 
again  dominate  the  world  so  completely  as 
in  former  times.  As  communication  be- 
tween the  diff^erent  nations  becomes  easy 
and  constant,  as  frontiers  grow  nearer,  and 
tiie  exchange  of  ideas  multiplies,  one  may 
imagine  each  separate  people  as  fearing 
lest  the  formidable  leveling  wind  that  is 
now  passing  over  the  world,  seize  and  carry 
away  the  last  traces  of  independence.  As 
one  retires  from  the  great 
central  fires  of  humanity, 
lesser  flames  start  upward 
with  fuller  impetus  and  force. 
We  have  seen  Belgium  set 
up  within  her  narrow  limits 
an  art  possessing  a  distinct 
savor  of  the  soil,  but  still  an 
art  of  somewhat  broad  char- 
acteristics. Be\'ond  her  fron- 
tier, Holland,  on  the  contrary, 
engendered,  a  decade  since,  a 
local  st}de  extremely  accentu- 
ated, revealing  at  times  beau- 
ties too  striking  not  to  de- 
serve mention  in  every  study 
of  the  present  movement  and 
development.  It  is  the  more 
necessary  to  speak  of  these 
works  for  the  reason  that  they 
are  little  known  to  the  outside 
world.  Not  only  does  their 
strictly  national  character, 
strongly  marked  with  ances- 
tral Javanese  influence,  pre- 
destine them  to  local  adapta- 
tions within  the  frontier  lim- 
its, but  it  must  be  added  that 
the  greater  number  of  Dutch 


L'AllT    XOUVEAU 


ariists  show  a  mysterious  and  singular  dis- 
dain for  cosmopolitan  reputation.  There 
is  now  in  Holland  a  large  constellation  of 
talents  which  deserves  the  honor  of  a  mon- 
ograph. But  let  it  suffice  here  to  cite  as 
especially  worthy  of  mention  the  names  of 
Dysselhof,  Toorup,  Thorn-Prikker  and 
Huytema. 

Mounting  higher  toward  the  North,  we 
find  Denmark,  wlio,  beside  her  celebrated 
porcelains,  has  developed  in 
all  branches  of  her  art,  under 
the  wise  direction  of  Pietro 
Krohn,  the  affable  curator  of 
the  Museum  of  Decorative 
Arts,  Copenhagen,  a  national 
growth :  a  style  extremely 
pure  in  its  robustness.  Still 
farther  Northward,  Sweden 
and  Norway  have  partici- 
pated no  less  ardently  in  the 
universal  impulse  toward  a 
renewal  of  the  ancient  Scandi- 
navian art,  revived  without 
essential  weakening  of  its 
original  character. 

Finally,  it  would  be  want- 
ing in  strict  duty  to  pass  over 
in  silence  a  similar  movement 
of  the  highest  interest  which 
has  been  observed  for  several 
years  on  the  extreme  limits  of 
Northern  Europe:  that  is  to 
say,  in  Russia.  There,  in  the 
midst  of  a  peasant  population 
of  primitive  manners  and  cus- 
toms, great  colonies  of  art- 
workers — weavers,  embroider- 
ers, sculptors,  potters,  iron- 
workers and  cabinet-makers — 
have  been  founded  under  the 


patronage  of  the  highest  personalities  of 
the  Empire.  Artists  of  reputation — such 
as  Monsieur  S.  .Malioutini'  aiul  Mademoi- 
selle Davydotf — indicate  the  patlis  and 
the  models  to  be  followed.  The  enter- 
prise is  directed  with  unflinching  activity 
by  ladies  of  the  high  aristocracy,  among 
whom  it  is  impossible  not  to  mention 
the  Princess  Marie  Tenicheff,  the  gen- 
erous    founder    of     the     remarkable     peo- 


(  uiiiiu't:  <i»".ii:ii''i  "y  <i«'  it-urt- 


\■^ 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


pie's  workshops  at  Talaclikino,  and 
also  Madame  JakounchikofF,  founder  of 
the  workshops  at  Smolenka,  in  the  Gov- 
ernment of  TanibofF,  a  lady  who,  with  un- 
wearying devotion,  consecrates  her  life  to 
an  admirable  task.  The  productions  of 
these  colonies  are  not  repeated  and  unvary- 
ing copies  of  old  Russian  models,  nor 
are  they,  what  one  could  fear  still  more, 
pretentious  imitations  of  objects  more  re- 
cently created  in  Western  Europe.  There 
truly  exists  something  resembling  a  species 


esteem  of  all  friends  of  art.  To  limit 
myself  to  my  personal  knowledge,  I  shall 
mention  men  like  the  deceased  archeologist 
Moore,  like  John  La  Farge  and  Louis 
Tiffany,  whom  the  old  continent  would 
have  been  proud  to  possess,  and  I  shall 
point  to  industries  like  the  American  man- 
ufactures of  colored  glass,  the  Rookwood 
and  Grueby  potteries,  which  have  taken 
ecjual  rank  with  the  European  establish- 
ments of  similar  character.  But  the  branch 
in    which    the    Americans    have    passed    to 


Jardiniere:  pottery  moimted 

of  Russian  Art  Xoii-LTdii;  for  it  is  very  new 
and,  at  the  same  time,  thoroughly  Russian. 
It  is  possible  for  these  noble  institutions  to 
pass  onward  to  a  future  of  extraordinary 
possibilities,  if  no  social  catastrophe  occur 
to  destroy  them. 

I  have  waited  until  the  end  to  acknowl- 
edge that  America  has  already  furni.shed  a 
contribution  to  the  universal  efforts  of  our 
times,  which  is  now  sufficiently'  note- 
worthy and   valuable  to  merit  for  her  the 


in  silver:  desitjned  liy  Colunnn 

immediate  mastership  is  in  the  conception 
and  execution  of  objects  destined  for  pi'ac- 
tical  use  in  household  interiors.  No  de- 
signers have  more  clearly  understood  that 
the  first  impression  of  beauty,  of  the  most 
essential  beauty,  emanates  from  every  ob- 
ject which  assumes  the  exact  character  of 
its  use  and  purpose. 

I  express  the  conviction  that  America, 
more  than  any  other  country  of  the  world, 
is  the  soil  jjredestined  to  the  most  brilliant 


14 


L'ART   NOUVEAU 


bloom  of  ;i  future  art  wliicli  sliall  be  vitror- 
oils  aiul  prolific.  Wlicii  slic  shall  have  ac- 
(|uiro(l.  ill  till'  proviiu'c  of  ideal  aims,  a  con- 
sciousness of  her  own  possibilities,  as  pre- 
cise anil  clear  as  the  confiilence  already 
gaineil  in  other  domains  of  intellectual 
force,  she  will  quickly  cast  off  the  tutelage 
of  the  Old  World,  under  which  slie  put  forth 
her  first  steps  upon  the  sunlit  patli  of  art. 
America,  as  I  have  already  said  elsewhere, 
has  a  marked  advantage  over  us,  in  that 
her  brain  is  not  haunted  by  the  phantoms 
of  memory ;  her  j-oung  imagination  can 
allow  itself  a  free  career,  and,  in  fashioning 
objects,  it  does  not  restrict  the  hand  to  a 
limited  number  of  similar  and  conventional 
movements.  America,  taken  all  in  all,  is 
indeed  only  a  ramification  of  our  ancient 
sources,  and  consequently  the  heir  of  our 
traditions.  But  aoain,  she  has  a  special 
ilestiny,  occasioned  by  the  fact  that  she 
(Iocs  not  possess,  like  us,  the  cult,  the 
rdlgion  of  these  same  traditions.  Her  rare 
privilege  is  to  profit  by  our  old  maturity 
and,  mingling  therein  the  impulse  of  her 
vigorous  youth,  to  gain  advantage  from 
all  technical  secrets,  all  devices  and  process- 
es taught  by  the  experience  of  centuries, 
and  to  place  all  this  practical  and  proven 
knowledge  at  the  .service  of  a  fresh  mind 
which  knows  no  other  guide  than  the  intui- 
tions of  taste  and  the  natural  laws  of  logic. 

Editor's  Xote. — The  editors  of  The  Craftsman' 
regard  themselves  as  most  fortunate  to  have  been 
ahlc  to  present  in  the  pages  of  their  magazine  an 
extended  and  just  appreciation  of  a  great  art 
movement,  concerning  which  there  is  so  little 
definite  information   among  the  people. 

In  the  issue  of  December,  1902,  Professor  A.  D. 
I'".  Ilanilln  of  Columbia  University  offered  a  judg- 
ment of  L'.lrl  Siiurmu,  bearing  ]>rin('ipally  upon 
its  manifestations  in  architecture. 


Ibis  pai)er  cxcitcil  I  be  inlrresl  of  M'vcral  tllNlin- 
guislied  French  critics,  who,  while  awakened  to 
admiration  by  the  linowledge  and  justice  displayed 
by  the  American  writer,  found  yet  occasion  to 
illffei  with  his  o]>inion  that  L'.til  .Xuiictau  was 
based  upon  a  negation  and  tended  toward  no 
definite     aim. 

This  opinion  was  opposed  in  the  issue  of  .hily, 
ISKKi,  by  M.  Jean  Scliopfer,  a  Parisian  authority 
known  in  the  United  Stales  by  his  writings,  as 
well  as  by  his  repeated  appearance  in  the  lecture- 
rooms  of  the  Eastern  universities. 

AI.  Schopfer's  article  was  a  criticism  of  llic  .Irl 
Xoupcau  movement,  judged  from  the  historical 
point  of  view.  It  was  calm,  broad,  logical  ami 
masterly:  in  every  way  calculated  to  remove  the 
prejudice  created  in  .Vmeriea  tiy  the  vagaries  of 
those  whose  position  in  regard  to  the  movement 
may  lie  compared  to  that  of  the  lawless  camp- 
followers  of  a  well-disciplined  army  marching  to 
the  conijuest  of  lilierty.  This  second  article  was 
compreheusive  in  its  treatment  and  included  in  its 
survey  the  decorative  and  "lesser  arts."  It  was, 
therefore,  of  wide  general  interest,  and  it  obtained 
the  appreciation  and  comment  which  it  deserved. 

The  tliird  division  of  the  discussion  just  now 
presented  bears  the  signature  of  the  highly  ilis- 
tinguishcd  critic  and  patron  of  art,  M.  S.  Hing  of 
Paris.  He  it  was  who  gave  the  name  to  the  latest 
jihasc  of  modern  art :  watching  its  develo])mcnt 
from  germ  to  bloom;  seeing  abortive  growths  fall 
away  from  the  parent  source  of  life,  and  other 
fairer  types  poisoned  by  hostile  and  noxious  in- 
fluences; but  permitted  at  last  to  witness  the 
definite  success  of  a  persistent  and  healthy  organ- 
ism, whose  infancy  he  had  wisely  fostered.  .M. 
Hiiig's  article  appeals  not  alone  to  artists  and 
tiiosc  interested  in  U'stbetic  subjects:  through  it 
throbs  the  pulse  of  that  modern  life  which  is  su- 
]>remely  creative,  and  capable  of  reducing  the 
ideal  to  the  real,  the  definite  and  the  jiractical.  ,M. 
ISing  has  proven  that  L'.lrt  Xoureau  is  neither 
based  upon  a  negation,  nor  destructive  in  its  aims. 
He  gives  account  of  his  sponsorship  over  a  young 
cause  which,  a  decade  since,  agitated  within  the 
narrow  boundaries  of  an  olil  Parisian  street,  has 
since  spread  over  the  world.  He  makes  also  a 
prophecy  for  the  future  of  art  in  which  there  is 
no  racial  exclusiveness.  He  shows  that  nothing 
that   is  artistic  is   foreign  to  him. 


H?:LI0S  (THE  SUX)  WITH  HORSES: 
TEMPLE    OF    ATHENA,  I L  I  O  \ 


Sun's  Disk  from  Temple  of  Luxor.  1562  B.  C. 
"The  sun  of  righteousness  shall  rise  with  healing  in  his  wintrs 


Mai.  IV.  1 


A  MARK  OF  HONOR 


C.\RYI,  COLEMAN 


E\"ERY  one  will  remember  having 
seen  in  the  streets  of  our  principal 
cities,  Italian  vendors  of  plaster 
casts,  and  must  have  observed 
among  the  objects  on  the  peddlers'  trays 
figures  of  both  men  and  women,  whose 
heads  were  encircled  with  a  ring  of  brass 
or  gilded  plaster;  but  it  is  a  question  if 
thev  have  ever  reflected  that  this  ring  is 
the  survival  of  a  mark  of  honor  which  orig- 
inated in  the  remote  past,  a  symbolic  sign 
emplo3-ed  by  the  ancients  and  by  the  people 
of  the  Middle  Ages :  the  property  alike  of 
Pagan  and  Christian. 

It  always  has  been  and  is  still  a  common 
custom,  among  barbarous,  as  well  as  among 
civilized  peoples,  when  representing  a  god 
or  an  eminent  man  by  means  of  sculpture 
or  painting,  to  accompany  the  portrayal  by 
a  distinguishing  mark,  in  order  to  point  out 
the  sanctit}-,  rank,  or  degree  of  honor  be- 
longing to  the  person  depicted ;  among 
these  marks  there  is  none  more  universal 
than  this  very  ring  found  upon  the  plaster 
images  of  the  Italian. 


It  is  conjectured  by  many  scholars  that 
this  was  originally  the  symbolic  expression 
of  the  cloud  supposed  to  encompass  the 
body  or  head  of  a  divine  being,  whenever  a 
divinity  became  visible  to  man.  Hence  they 
have  called  it  a  nimbus:  a  Latin  word  of 
divers  meanings,  always  relating  to 
some  form  of  cloud  and  in  truth 
derived  from  the  same  root  as  7iubes. 
In  support  of  this  hypothesis  they 
quote,  together  with  other  citations  of  equal 
value,  the  following  lines  from  the  Tenth 
Book  of  the  Aeneid :  "Juno  spoke,  and 
forthwith  from  the  loftj'  sk}'  descended 
swift,  girt  with  a  tempestuous  cloud  (nimbo 
succincta),  driving  a  storm  before  her 
through  the  air."  It  would  seem  as  if  this 
were  a  mistake,  a  confounding  of  two 
tilings,  related,  yet  distinct,  viz.,  the  light 
about  the  head  (halo)  and  the  light  about 
the  body  (nimbus);  the  latter  is  often 
represented  in  art  by  hnninous  clouds  of 
various  and  varying  colors,  but  the  former 
never.  In  the  art  of  the  older  nations  of 
antiquity,    the    light   about   the   head    was 


17 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


invariably  used  as  a  pictorial  expression  of 
the  sun's  light,  and  always  confined,  as  all 
existing  examples  show,  to  the  head  of 
Helios  or  the  personification  of  some  emana- 
tion of  the  same.  Hence,  in  view  of  this, 
as  the  sign  primarily  is  intended  to  repre- 
sent, as  will  be  subsequently  demonstrated, 
the  light  immediately'  encircling  the  sun's 
disk,  it  would  seem  as  though  halo  were  a 
far  more  approjiriate  name  than  nimbus. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  halo,  which 
in  truth  belongs  to  the  God  of  the  Sun, 
should  ultimately  have  been  given  by  the 
ancients  to  all  the  gods,  goddesses  and  even 
to  men,  as  the  light  of  the  sun  was  to  them 
the  source  of  life  and  of  all  enersizins 
power.  "He  hath  rejoiced  as  a  giant  to 
run  his  course :  his  going  out  is  from  the 
end  of  heaven,  and  his  circuit  even  to  the 
end  thereof,  and  there  is  no  one  that  can 
hide  himself  from  his  heat."  A  belief 
graphically  described  in  a  hynm  of  1365 
B.  C,  written  by  King  Akiienaten  or  some 
one  of  his  court: 

Thou    art    very    beautiful,    brilliant,    and    exalted 

above  the  earth, 
Thy   beams   encomjiass   all   lands   which   thou   hast 

made. 
Thou  art  the  sun,  thou  settest  their  bounds, 
Thou   bindest   them   with  thy   love. 

How  many  are  the  things  which  thou  hast  made ! 
Thou  didst  create  the  land  by  thy  will,  tliou  alone. 
With  peoples,  herds,  and  flocks. 
Everything  on  the  face  of  the  earth  that  walketh 

on  its   feet. 
Everything  in  the  air  that  fiietb  with  wings. 

Thou  makest  the  seasons  of  the  year  to  create  all 

thy  works; 
The  Winter  making  them  cool,  the  Summer  giving 

warmth. 
Thou  ni.-uiest   the   far-oflf  heaven,   that   thou  niayest 

rise  in   it. 
That   thou  mayest   see  all  that   thou   madest   when 

thou   wast   alone 

18 


Moreover,  the  deities  of  Polytheism  were 
but  the  personifications  of  the  various  attri- 
butes of  that  same  central  force,  or  more 
accurately  they  were  "emanations  from  its 
substance  and  manifestations  of  its  inde- 
fatigable activity,"  or,  as  Lenormant  says, 
"in  that  body  the  ancients  saw  the  most 
imposing  manifestation  of  the  Deity  and 
the  clearest  e.xemjjlification  of  the  laws  that 
govern  the  world;  to  it,  therefore,  tliey 
turned  for  their  personification  of  the  divine 
power;"  or,  in  the  words  of  the  Egyptians  : 
"Ra  (the  sun)  creates  his  own  members, 
which  are  themselves  gods,  viz.,  the  morn- 
ing sun :  the  god  Horus ;  the  power  of  the 


Assyrian  sular  ilisr 

rising  sun :  the  god  Nefer-Atmu ;  tiie  light 
of  the  sun:  the  god  Shu;  the  beautifving 
power  of  the  sun :  the  goddess  Hathor ;  the 
power  of  light  and  heat  of  the  sun:  the 
goddess  Menhit;  tiie  heat  of  the  sun,  the 
producer  of  vegetation :  the  goddess  Bast ; 
the  violent  heat  of  the  sun:  the  god- 
dess Sechet ;  the  destroying  power  of  the 
sun :  the  god  Sebek ;  the  scorching  heat  of 
of  the  sun :  tlie  goddess  Serq ;  the  regulator 
of  the  sun's  movements :  the  goddess  Maat ; 
the  setting  sun :  the  god  Atmu ;  the  night- 
sun  :  the  god  Seker. 

Ra  is  "the  being  in  whom  every  god 
existeth ;  the  one  of  one,  the  creator  of  the 
things  which  came  into  being  when  the 
earth  took   form   in   the  beginning,   whose 


MARK    or    TTOXOR 


birtlis  are  hidden, whose  forms  are  manifold, 
and  whose  gro\vth  cannot  be  known."  It 
was  from  liim.  in  his  very  likeness,  tliat  men 
were  deified,  as  witness  the  words  of  the  god 
Amen-Ra,  in  a  song  of  deification  addressed 
to  Tahutmes  III  (B.  C.  1503-1449),  in- 
scribed on  the  walls  of  the  great  temple  at 
Karnak : 

I    iiiJide   them   rejrard   thy    Holiness  as   the   lilazing 

sun; 
Thou  shinest  in  siji^ht  of  them  in  my  form. 

Much  the  same  thought  is  expressed  by 
^'irgil  in  the  Aeneid  (XII.  163)  when  he 
says:  King  Latinus,  of  viajestic  frame, 
is  carried  in  a  chariot  druzcn  by  four 
steeds;  tu-elve  golden  beams  circle  his  daz- 
zling hroii's,  the  ensign  of  the  Sun,  kis 
grandsire. 

In  ^lesopotamian  art,  possibh"  Egj^ptian 
in  its  origin,  the  sun  held  an  important 
place,  and  there  are  some  remains  that 
point  toward  its  use  as 
a  mark  of  distinction, 
but  never  as  a  head  or- 
nament, not  even  like 
the  sun-disc  that  crowns 
the  Egyptian  deities, 
Ammon-Ra,  Isis,  Hathor, 
and  others,  but  it  hovers 
above  the  head  of  the 
Chaldaean  and  Assyrian 
gods  and  men  under  the 
form  of  a  winged  sun- 
disc,  or  ii  half-length 
figure  of  a  man 
within  a  winged 
Ammon-Ra.  1830  B.  c.  circle,  and  Some- 
times under  the  form  of  a  circle  of  rays 
placed  behind  tlie  personage  represented. 
In  Iranian  art  an  almost  similar  condi- 


tion is  found.  Tlic  religion  of  Iran,  as 
embodied  in  the  Avesta,  with  its  two  oppos- 
ing and  irreconcilable  principles :  Ahura- 
mazda,  the  god  of  light,  and  x\ngro-main- 


Coin  of  Trajan.  98  A.  I). 

yus,  the  god  of  darkness,  did  not  permit  of 
a  very  great  amount  of  material  expression. 
"Nevertheless,"  as  Perrot  and  Chipiez  re- 
mark, "here,  as  in  the  rest  of  the  world,  the 
mind  of  man  needed  a  tangible  form  that 
should  stand  for  and  reflect  the  image  of 
the  deit}'."  According  to  Iranian  belief, 
the  whole  circle  of  the  heavens  was  the 
Creator,  his  body  was  the  light,  his  gar- 
ment was  the  firmament,  and  when  he, 
Ahura-mazda,  gave  himself  a  personaUty, 
making  himself  known  to  mortal  ej'es,  he 
took  a  human  form,  which  in  art  was  por- 
trayed by  the  figure  of  a  man  rising  out  of 
a  winged  solar  disc  or  halo,  a  form  evidently 
borrowed,  with  slight  modification,  from  the 
plastic  art  of  Babylonia  and  Nineveh.  And 
in  the  administration  of  the  Universe  this 
onmiscient  force,  Ahura-mazda,  employed 
a  number  of  energies  to  preside  over  and 
guide  the  forces  of  Nature  and  the  life  of 
man,  and  these  manifestations  of  his  om- 
nipotent power  were  represented  in  art  by 
personifications,  both  masculine  and  femi- 
nine, and  were  usually  crowned  with  a  halo, 
as  for  example,  the  youth  Mithra :  the  god 

19 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


of  the  dawn,  and  the  nymph  Nana-Anahita : 
the  dispenser  of  fertility  and  love. 

Among  the  Greeks  the  halo  was  in  use, 
but  not  so  constantly  as  among  the  Romans, 


Coin  (if  Antoninus  Pius.  i:iS-ini  A.  1). 

who  even  used  it  to  crown  the  heads  of  the 
representations  of  their  emperors,  as  wit- 
ness the  bas-relief  of  Trajan,  on  the  arch 
of  Constantine  at  Rome,  which  is  crowned 
with  a  halo. anil, also, the  head  of  Antoninus 
Pius  on  the  coins  of  his  reign.  The  imag- 
ination of  the  Roman  people  was  so  imbued 
with  the  idea  that  the  halo  of  the  sun  was 
a  sign  of  power  and  god-like  quality,  that 
they  found  nothing  strange  in  the  follow- 
ing words  of  the  historian  Valloius  Pater- 
culus,  and  accepted  the  statement  without 
question :  "At  the  moment  when  Augustus 
entered  Rome,  the  arc  of  the  sun,  symmetri- 
cally curved  around  his  head,  was  seen  to 
form  a  crown  of  the  colors  of  the  rainbow." 
Even  in  their  oaths  the  Romans  alluded  to 
the  halo;  an  officer  of  the  law,  as  we  learn 
from  a  work  of  the  fourth  centur}',  said  to 
Callistratus  the  Carthaginian :  "Sacrifice, 
O  Callistratus,  to  the  gods — for  I  swear  by 
Artemis,  croKiicd  roith  rays  (halo)^ — unless 
thou  obeyest  me,  I  will  cut  thee  into  bits." 


The  secular  use  of  the  halo  as  a  sign  of 
apotheosis,  or  perhaps  a  mere  mark  of 
honor,  was  pushed  to  an  exti-eme  by  the 
Byzantines,  who  continued  so  to  employ  it 
long  after  the  advent  of  Christianit}'  down 
to  the  reign  of  Arcadius  and  Honorius,  the 
two  weakly  sons  of  Theodosius,  and  longer, 
for  we  find  the  representations  of  Justinian 
and  his  wife  Theodora,  in  the  wall  mosaics 
of  the  Church  of  San  Vitale  at  Ravenna, 
are  so  crowned.  Among  the  new  nations 
of  the  West  its  secular  use  survived  until 
the  time  of  the  rebuilding  of  the  Abbey  of 
S.  Germain  des  Pres  at  Paris  by  Morardus 
in  the  eleventh  century,  when  the  statues  of 
the  ]\Ierovingian  kings,  which  once  adorned 
the  main  entrance,  were  crowned  with  disc- 
like halos. 

The  sun  has  been  worshipped  in  India 
for    ages,    and    represented    symbolically, 


Head  of  Christ:  Catai-onilis.  Rome,  third  century 

from  the  most  remote  times,  by  a  disc ;  hence 
it  is  not  strange  to  find  that  the  halo  holds 
an  important  place  in  the  sacred  inconog- 
raphy  of  Hindostan.  As  many  of  the 
symbols  of  India  are  indisputably  of 
Mesopotamian  origin,  it  is  possible  the  halo 
was  derived  from  that  source,  but  at  best  its 


20 


MARK    OF    UOXOll 


liistorv  is  involved  in  the  greatest  obscurity, 

and  it  must  be  specially  studied  before  it 


Assyrian  deity:  Nineveh 

can  be  spoken  of  authoritatively,  except  to 
say  that  it  stands  for  light,  and  points  out 
the  fact  that  the  impersonation  it  crowns  is 
one  of  the  Dcva  ("the  siiining  ones"). 
Brahminism  passed  the  halo  on  to  Bud- 
dhism, whose  missionaries  in  turn  carried  it 
to  the  Far  East — China  and  Japan. 

Among  the  North  American  Indians,  the 
native  Mexicans  and  the  ]\Iayas,  tlie  rank 
of  the  persons  represented  in  their  pictures 
is  indicated  by  the  head  ornament  worn  by 
these  personages,  and  often  this  ornament 
is  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  halo,  as  for 
example,  when  the  Ojibwa  draws  a  picture 
of  a  medicine  man,  he  crowns  the  head  with 
radiating  lines,  similar  to  those  he  employs 
in  his  hieroglyph  of  the  sun. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  fullest  devel- 
opment, the  most  artistic  treatment,  and 
greatest  application  of  the  halo,  under  all 
its  various  forms,  is  to  be  found  in  Chris- 
tian Art. 

This  connection  between  Pagan  and 
Christian  Art,  the  minghng  of  the  old  wine 
with  the  new,  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  in 
view  of  tlie  fact  that  the  early  Christians, 
outlaws  in  the  eyes  of  the  State,  or  as  Sue- 
tonius says,  a  class  of  men  "Superstitionis 


novae  ct  maleficac"  and  cliarged  by  Tacitus 
with  the  "odium  humani  generis  "  were  com- 
pelled for  their  own  safety, — for  it  must  be 
remembered  that  from  "the  time  of  Domi- 
tian,  if  not  at  a  still  earlier  date,  the  very 
name  of  Christian  exposed  a  person  to  the 
penalty  of  death," — to  hide  their  religion 
from  the  governing  powers  and  tlie  aggres- 
sive paganism  of  the  vulgar  herd ;  more- 
over, in  practising  this  policy  of  conceal- 
ment they  were  complying  with  the  admo- 
nition of  their  founder:  "Give  not  that 
xi-hich  is  holy  unto  the  dogs,  neither  cast  ye 
your  pearls  before  sicine,  lest  they  trample 
them  under  their  feet  and  turn  again  and 
rend  you."  In  doing  this  the^'  Christian- 
ized, when  portraying  their  belief  under 
visible   representations,    many    signs,   sym- 


Helios:  Early  Greek  vase 

bols,  ornaments,  and  even  personages  be- 
longing to  pagan  art :  such  as  letters,  mon- 
ograms, and  ciphers,  circles,  triangles  and 
squares,  vines,  grapes,  and  palms,  anchors, 
crowns  and  solar-crosses,  doves,  phoenixes, 
and  pelicans,  Hermes  and  Orpheus.  In 
otiier  words,  tiiey  adopted  from  Paganism 
wliatever  might  aid  them  in  tlieir  mission  to 


.'I 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


mankind;  seldom  creating  independently 
for  themselves  the  outward  signs  of  their 
faith ;  their  guide  apparently  in  this  mat- 
ter was  the  imperial  motto :  ^^Incorporate 
into  the  State  all  that  anywhere  is  excel- 
lent."    Hence  tlicv  did  not  hesitate  to  use 


\-i-(iii- 


"1:  Hiiiilu  Pumhciin 


anything  and  everything,  so  long  as  there 
was  no  evil  in  the  things  themselves,  to 
teach  the  world,  or  to  recall  to  the  remem- 
brance of  the  faithful  the  dogmas  of  the 
faith.  Therefore,  when  the  Pagans  ac- 
cused the  Christians  of  celebrating  the 
festival  of  the  sun,  Augustine  of  Hippo  (A. 
D.  -iOO)  replied:  "We  solemnize  this  day, 
not,  like  the  heathen,  on  account  of  the  sun, 

22 


but  on  account  of  Him  who  made  the  sun." 
Among  the  symbolic  signs  they  borrowed 
from  antiquity  and  made  their  own  was 
the  halo ;  and  this  they  did  the  moi-e  easilj-, 
as  they  believed  they  saw  at  times  a  reful- 
gence of  light  encompassing  the  bodies  and 
heads  of  their  martyrs  and  saints.  Allu- 
sions to  this  phenomenon  are  met  with  very 
often  in  the  writings  of  the  early  Chris- 
tians. In  the  Acts  of  St.  Codratius  it  is 
stated  that  "the  heathen  began  to  see  the 
light  which  was  around  the  saints ;"  again 
in  the  Acts  of  St.  Callistratus,  the  narrator 
says :  "We  saw  the  light  which  shot  forth 
over  the  heads  of  the  Saints  ;"  again,  Sulpi- 
cius,  in  his  biography  of  St.  JMartin  of 
Tours,  says  he  saw  in  a  dream  the  "Holy 
Martin,  the  bishop,  clad  in  a  white  robe, 
with  his  face  like  a  flame,  eyes  like  stars, 
and  glittering  hair." 

The  halo  was  employed  in  accordance 
with  determined  and  fixed  rules :  rules  made 
by  the  Christians,  controlling  its  form, 
application  and  significance.  It  did  not, 
however,  come  into  general  use  until  after 
the  sixth  century,  although  it  was  occasion- 
ally employed  before  that  time,  as  may  be 
seen  from  monuments  dating  from  the 
fourth  century  and  possibly  earlier. 

In  Christian  art  the  halo  is  a  symbol  of 
light  (light,  in  turn,  is  a  mark  of  sanctitj- 
— given  and  received),  crowning  the  head 
of  a  representation  of  a  holj'  personage,  who 
may  be  either  living  or  dead :  the  halos  be- 
longing to  the  Persons  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
are  emanations,  while  those  about  the  heads 
of  the  saints  are  a  reflex  of  the  light  of 
celestial  glory :  "The  glory  which  Thou 
has  given  me,  I  give  to  them."  When 
Moses  had  been  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
on  Mount  Sinai,  for  forty  daj's  his  face 


MARK    OF    IIOXOU 


shone  with  a  great  light,  "And  wlicn  Aaron 
and  all   the  cliildren  of  Israel  saw  Moses, 


Head  of  Christ:  French:  twelfth  century 

behold  the  skin  of  liis  face  shone  and  they 
were  afraid  to  come  nigh  him." 

In  form  a  halo  may  be  triangular, 
square,  polygonal,  or  circular.  The  trian- 
gular halo  is  confined  in  its  application  to 
the  Godhead,  because  it  is  composed  of 
three  equal  parts  which  stand  for  the  three 
Persons  of  the  Trinitarian  Divinity.  The 
square  is  given  to  representations  of  living 
persons  who  are  believed  to  be  saintly,  as 
for  example :  the  portrait  of  Pope  Paschal 
I.  (817-82-1),  in  the  mosaic  he  caused  to  be 
erected  in  the  Church  of  Sta.  Maria  in  Do- 


Hand  of  the  Creator:  Assyrian 

minica  at  Rome,  is  crowned  with  a  square 
halo ;  and  there  is  also  a  bust  of  his  mother, 
in  the  church  of  Sta.   Prassede  at  Rome, 


placed  there  during  her  life-time,  similarly 

adorned.      The    square    form    is    employed 

because  it  symbolizes  terrestrial  life,  or  the 

earth — a  foursidod-world  : 

"A  tower  of  strength  that  stood 
Four  square  to  all  the  winds  that  hlow," 

a  thought  common  to  all  people  from 
Egypt  to  Yucatan :  the  Egyptians  held 
that  the  Universe  was  a  rectangular  box, 
that  the  earth  was  the  bottom  and  the  sky 
the  cover,  which  rested  on  four  columns  or 
tlie  horns  of  the  earth — Bakhu  (East), 
Manu  (West),  Apet-to  (South),  Naz-oritt 


Hand  of  God  the  Father:  tenth  century 

(North)  ;  a  thought  also  familiar  to  Chris- 
tians from  the  following  words  of  John : 
"I  saw  four  Angels  standing  on  the  four 
comers  of  the  earth,  holding  the  four  winds 
of  the  earth."  The  polygonal  halo  is  pure- 
h'  an  ornament,  iiaving  no  esoteric  mean- 
ing, seldom  used  out  of  Italy,  and  applied 
only  to  personifications. 

The  circular  form  is  given  to  the  halo 
of  Christ  and  the  saints,  as  a  circle  sj'mbol- 
ically  stands  for  heaven,  eternity,  and  celes- 
tial life,  and  is  obviously  the  most  common, 
and  is  usually  a  disc  or  a  ring,  which  varies 


£i 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


in  treatment :  at  first  it  was  simply  a  circu- 
lar transparent  field  of  light,  later  the  outer 
edse  was  decorated  and  the  center  filled 
with   countless   radiating  lines,   or  divided 


God  the  Son:  Frencli;  twelftli  cfiitury 

into  zones  by  concentric  circles,  often  the 
circumference  was  enriched  with  precious 
stones  and  enamels;  the  degree  of  enrich- 
ment increasing  with  the  hierarchical  status 
of  the  personage  it  crowned,  and  sometimes 
the  name  of  the  saint  was  inscribed  on  its 
outer  edge,  or  if  it  were  used  in  connection 
with  an  angel,  a  text  from  Holy  Scripture. 
The  ring  variety  was  a  creation  of  the 
Itahan  Renascence,  the  outcome  of  an  en- 
deavor on  the  part  of  the  artists  to  ethereal- 
ize  the  halo  and  make  it  express  more  clear- 
ly its  spiritual  signification.  They  were 
not,  however,  satisfied  with  eliminating  the 
field  and  leaving  a  circular  line  of  light, 
but  often  did  away  with  both  field  and 
circle,  surrounding  instead  the  heads  of 
their  representations  of  the  glorified  with 
luminous  flamboyant  rays,  which  gradually 
lose  themselves  in  the  background.  In 
Spain  there  are  a  number  of  examples  of 
circular  halos  where  the  field  is  segmented. 


the  segments  varying  in  color,  and  in  some 
cases  having  the  form  of  leaves. 

Color,  as  well  as  form,  plays  an  impor- 
tant i^art  in  the  composition  of  a  halo,  and 
is  used  in  such  a  way  as  to  denote  the  rank 
of  the  person  to  whom  it  belongs,  but  sel- 
dom at  the  expense  of  the  artistic  effect; 
hence,  where  the  symbolic  color  would  be 
inharmonious,  gold  is  substituted,  and  made 
to  answer  for  all  orders  and  degrees  of 
holiness.  Symbolically,  gold  is  the  color 
of  the  halos  of  the  Persons  of  the  Godhead, 
the  Holy  Mother,  apostles,  martyrs,  con- 
fessors and  virgins ;  silver,  of  the  prophets 
and  saints  of  the  Old  Law ;  green,  of  mar- 
ried saints,  other  than  ecclesiastics  and  mar- 
tyrs ;  and  red  or  yellow  slightly  tinted  with 
white,  of  penitents. 


(tuiI  till-  Holy  Ghost:  Byzaiitini.-;  sixth  century 

The  halo  used  in  connection  with  repre- 
sentations of  God  is  triangular,  or  more 
conunonly  circular,  the  same  as  that  of  an 
angel  or  saint,  except  that  the  field  is 
cliarged  with  the  three  limbs  of  a  Greek 
cross,  and  this  often  bears  on  its  branches 
Greek  or  Latin  letters,  wliich,  taken  togeth- 
er, form  a  word,  or  sentence.     The  Greek 


24 


.MAKK    OF    TIOXOll 


letters  are  OQN  (eyw  iifil  owy)  and  >t:ui(l 
for  tlie  words  God  used  when  He  revealed 
Himself  to  Moses:  /  am  that  I  am;  'J'lie 
Latin  are  I^  •  U  •  X,  and  sometimes  U  •  11  •  X, 


From  a  picture  of  the  Annunciation: 
French;  twelfth  century 

in  the  first  instjince  lig'hf.    mul   in   tlie  last 
kincr. 

The  triangular  halo  is  general]}'  worn 
exclusively  by  God  the  Father;  while  the 
circular  cruciform,  although  symbolically 
that  of  the  Second  Person,  is  alike  the 
property  of  all  Three  Persons  of  the  Trin- 
ity ;  it  is  also  used  with  figurative  represen- 
tations of  the  First  Person :  a  hand  with 
the  thumb  and  two  fingers  extended — a 
sj-mbol  of  the  creative  act ;  the  Second  Per- 
son: the  Agnus  Dei,  a  symbol  of  the  sacri- 
fice; and  the  Third  Person:  a  dove,  the 
symbol  of  divine  wisdom  and  grace. 

The  halos  of  the  saints,  as  was  said 
above,  are  circular,  and  often  decorated, 
the  decoration  changing  with  the  archi- 
tecture and  taste  of  the  period  to  which 
they  belong. 


The  traitorous  apostle,  Judas,  in  virtue 
of  his  office,  is  entitled  to  a  circular  halo, 
but  it  is  black — the  color  of  sin. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  must  not  be 
supposed  that  the  halo  is  always  confined 
to  the  head,  for  it  may  surround  the  entire 
body.  When  the  body  is  surrounded  by 
light,  and  this  light  is  made  up  of  luminous 
clouds  it  can  be  justly  described  as  a  nhn- 
hus,  but  where  they  are  absent  it  certainly 
cannot,  and  this  is  commonly  the  case. 
Christian  symbologists  designate  this  body 
of  encircling  light,  of  whatever  kind,  b}'  the 
word  Aureola  (aureolus),  because  it  is  gen- 
erally of  a  golden  tone.  This  mark  of 
honor,  although  known  to  the  ancients,  did 
not  make  its  appearance  in  ecclesiastical  art 
until  long  after  the  head-halo  had  come  into 
universal  use.     In  form  it  is  circular,  oval, 


.lapancHe  Saint:  eighteenth  century 

or  quatrefoil ;  and  is  generally  depicted  as 
a  blaze  or  scintillation  of  light,  and  some- 
times as  parallel  bands  of  symbolic  colors. 
The  lower  part   is  often   intersected  by   a 


is 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


circle  or  semi-circle,  usually  representing  a 
rainbow,  more  particularly  when  Christ  is 
enthroned  within  the  aureola,  as  if  in  allu- 
sion to  the  vision  of  S.  John :     "Behold  a 


T)ie  Christ  ill  Majesty:  Frciu'li:  twclftli  century 

throne  was  set  in  heaven,  one  sat  on  the 
throne — and  there  was  a  rainbow  I'ound 
about  the  throne,  in  sight  like  unto  an 
emerald."  In  use  it  is  exclusively  restricted 
to  the  Divine  Persons  of  the  Trinity,  to  the 
Virgin  Mother,  to  the  souls  of  the  redeemed 
ascending  into  heaven,  to  the  members  of 
the  celestial  hierarchy,  and  the  apotheosis 
of  a  saint.  The  Virgin  iVIother  is  thus  de- 
picted only  when  slie  is  represented  with  the 
Holy  Child  in  her  arms,  at  her  Assumption, 
and  when  she  is  portrayed  as  the  woman  of 
the  Apocalypse. 

Tiie  aureola  of  an  ascending  soul  is  com- 


posed of  yellow,  green  and  red  clouds  or 
raj's  of  light ;  tlie  colors  of  faith,  hope  and 
love,  the  three  virtues  with  which  a  soul 
must  be  clothed  in  order  to  gain  the  Beatific 
Vision.  It  will  be  I'emembered  that  when 
Beatrice  asked  to  have  Dante  admitted  to 
the  heavenly  banquet,  St.  Peter  examined 
him  as  to  his  faith : 

tlie  costly  jewel,  on  which 


is  founded  every  virtue  ■ 

Questa  cara  gioia, 

Sojira  la  quale  ogni  virtii  si   fonda. 

(Par.   XXV.) 

S.  James  next  interrogated  him  as  to  his 

hope : 

the  joy  to  come  a  sure  expectance, 

The  effect  of  grace  divine  and  merit  preceding. 
Speme,  diss'  io,  ed    uno  attender  certo 
Delia  gloria  futura,  il  qual  produce 
Grazia  divina  e  precedente  merto. 

(Par.   XXV.) 

Lastly,  S.  John  questions  him  as  to  his 
love : 

.\11  grappling  bonds,  that  knit  the  heart  to  God, 
Confederate   to  make   fast   our   charity. 

Tutti  quel  inorsi 

Che  posson  far  lo  cuor  volgere  a  Dio 
Alia  inia  caritate  son  concorsi. 

(Par.    XXVI.) 


Hi:i(l  i.f  Allfrel:   Henuzzi.   liuzzoli   (1424-140S) 

To  surround  the  body  with  an  aureola 
and  to  crown  the  head   with  a  halo  must 


26 


St.    I  hoMwis  .\(|uiniis  in   (ilorv 

Francesco  Traiiii;   I'isji,  Church  of  St.  C'lithcrinc 


it 


THE   CRAFTSMAX 


have  always  been  a  familiar  thought  to 
Christians,  made  so  !)_v  the  words  of  St. 
John  in  the  Book  of  Revelation,  where  lie 
says :      "There  appeared  a  great  wonder  in 


Reli<|\uir>'  :iiid  ( 'iln 


Kariy  lI:iU;ni  school 


heaven ;  a  woman  dothtd  icith  ihe  sun,  and 
the  moon  nnder  her  feet,  and  upon  her  head 
a  croicn  of  twelve  stars ;"  and  in  another 
place :  "I  saw  a  mighty  angel  coine  down 
from  heaven,  clothed  with  a  cloud :  and  a 
rainbow  was  upon  his  head,  and  his  face 
was  as  it  were  the  sun." 

Cherubim  and  seraphim,  when  symboliz- 
ing an  attribute  of  tlie  Deity,  are  enclosed 
in  red  ovoidal  aureolas, — because  light 
(divine  truth)  is  made  manifest  through 
fire  (love)  and  the  color  of  fire  is  red. 

When  the  head-halo  and  the  aureola  are 
employed  together,  their  union  is  called  a 
glory. 

It  must  be  conceded  by  all  that  this  in- 
quiry has  partially,  if  not  completely,  dem- 
onstrated the  universality  of  the  halo  and 
aureola  in  the  religious  art  of  all  peoples,  at 
all  times ;  and  that  what  is  now  needed,  in 
order  to  understand  the  matter  aright,  is  a 
thorough  archaeological  investigation  of 
existing  monuments,  together  with  a  judi- 
cious sifting  of  documentary  evidence :  a 
research  which  would  be  of  great  value  in 
the  elucidation  of  the  history  of  religion 
and  art,  and  to  which  this  article  is  a  mere 
introtluction. 

It  is  true  that  one  side  of  the  subject, 
that  is,  its  relationship  to  Christian  theology 
and  mysticism,  has  long  ago  been  seriously 
and  exhaustively  considered.  St.  Thomas 
Aquinas,  the  master  mind  of  mediaeval 
learning,  in  the  supplement  to  his  Summa 
Theologica  has  carefully  examined,  with 
his  usual  lucidity,  the  subject  of  halos  and 
the  reasons  for  their  being,  symbolism, 
varieties,  fruits,  and  applications.  His 
exposition  is  not  only  wonderfully  logical, 
admitting  the  })remises,  but  is  also  most 
interesting,  filled,  as   it  is,  with  beautiful 


28 


Benvcnuto  di  Giovanni  (School  of  Sicmi) 


.'!» 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


thoughts,  thoughts  provocative  of  pro- 
found reflection ;  moreover,  he  shows  that 
"it  is  not,"  as  D'Alviella  tersely  says,  "tlie 
vessel  that  is  important,  but  the  wine  which 
we  pour  into  it ;  not  the  form,  ijut  the  idea 
which  animates  and  transcends  that  form." 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  following  is  the 
logical  conclusion  to  be  deduced  from  the 


foregoing  facts  and  illustrations,  viz.,  that 
the  halo  of  to-day  is  a  survival  from  the 
remote  past,  by  the  road  of  conflicting  re- 
ligious systems,  of  a  mark  of  honor  of 
varying  potentiality,  and  inherently  sug- 
gestive of  glory,  from  its  having  been  in  its 
origin  the  highest  symbolic  expression  of 
solar  worship. 


Disr:  (iiiatfUKila 


:5(l 


THE  USE  OF  WOOD  IN  SWITZERLAND 


WENDELL  G.  COKTHELL 


THE  tourist  in  the  Bernese  Oberbind 
finding  on  every  liand  an  abun- 
dance of  wood  carving  concludes 
that  this  is  now  the  cliief  use  of 
wood  in  tliiit  Httle  counti-y.  He  also  judges 
from  the  many  wooden  clialcts  that  wood 
must  be  very  plentiful  in  the  land.  In 
both  he  is  mistaken.  Wood  carving  is, 
indeed,  a  growing  industry,  but  the  chief 
use  of  wood  is  still  in  the  construction  of 
homes.  Though  forests  are  seen  on  many 
a  mountain  side,  yet  four-fifths  of  all  the 
wood  used  is  imported.  When  centuries 
ago  the  forests  were  far  more  plentiful,  the 
taste  for  the  use  of  wood  was  formed,  and 
now  when  wood  is  scarce,  the  taste  remains 
and  the  demand  must  be  met  by  other  lands. 

Here  we  will  speak  of  the  forests  of 
Switzerland,  the  industry  of  wood  carving 
and  the  construction  of  chalets. 

In  our  own  country,  forests  are  mostly 
owned  by  individuals  who  can  do  with  them 
as  they  please,  but  in  Switzerland  they  are 
now  held  by  the  Communes,  the  Cantons, 
or  the  State,  and  are  all  conserved  for  the 
public  good.  Forests,  on  the  banks  of 
rivers  affected  by  the  melting  snows,  must 
be  preserved  to  prevent  floods  in  the  towns ; 
those  on  the  mountain  sides  must  guard 
from  the  destructive  avalanches ;  and  all 
must  be  maintained  with  skill  and  not  al- 
lowed to  disappear. 

The  Commune  in  Switzerland  is  an  ag- 
gregation of  villages,  and  each  member  is 
entitled   to  his  share  of  that  part  of  the 


forest  which  is  allowed  to  be  cut  down. 
AN'ood  for  building  and  for  fuel  may  be 
had,  but  new  trees  must  take  the  place  of 
those  destroyed,  the  forest  must  be  kept  up 
to  its  standard.  Schools  of  forestry  grad- 
uate men  whose  business  it  is  to  decide 
how  and  to  what  extent  the  forests  are  to 
be  maintained.  The  surplus  growth  is 
apportioned  among  the  people ;  not  among 
all  the  people,  but  onlj'  among  the  members 
of  the  Commune.  Every  member  must  be 
born  of  a  member,  or  become  a  member  by 
purchase  or  election.  In  a  Commune  like 
Berne,  for  instance,  composed  of  a  city, 
there  is  no  wood  to  divide.  The  forests 
there  are  really  wooded  parks  and  no  sur- 
plus wood  is  given  away. 

In  the  mountains,  however,  and  in  many 
farming  localities,  there  is  wood  enough  for 
the  villagers. 

Let  us  remember  that  the  life  in  Switzer- 
land is  distinctively  that  of  the  village. 
Here  is  the  only  true  republic  in  Europe,  a 
republic  of  far  more  freedom,  dignity  and 
real  democracy  than  that  of  France,  or  even 
than  that  of  our  own.  A  land  is  here  with- 
out a  "Boss,"  where  every  member  is  free 
to  cast  his  ballot  and  have  his  full  share  in 
tiie  general  corporation.  The  forests  are 
among  his  assets  and  all  are  interested  to 
have  tiiem  kept  at  tiieir  full  value. 

As  extensive  as  arc  the  wooded  heights 
in  this  model  land,  there  is  only  one-fifth 
enough  wood  to  "go  round."  Tiiis  condition 
becomes  all  tiie  more  serious  in  a  land  wiiich 


;<l 


A  place  nf  \v;iysidi'  prnyfr 


A  VilhiL'i'  ill  thciivpir  Kliunc-  Viilli-y: 

Til.-  rhuivli  .-uhI  til.-  sell....!  Lilly  of  stone 


3'2 


■■M^    -V^ 

■L   .'AJMH^dH 

Vv 

•> 

1 

^^^^^^^ 

B" 

^o^^^*^ 

-^^^^ 

.f^'^ 

^^^^^^^w^V-  s^^ 

5 

~f*i 

1        tT*  r^       ^ 

m| 

A  1 

'-'v.   .  -  - 

A  mountain  saw-niill 


A   lyl.iral  i-tial. 


Xi 


A  plcasiiii;  arrangement  of  the  elialet  lial.  iniy 


;h 


WOOD    1\    SWir/KKLAM) 


produces  no  coal.  Fire  wood  is  precious. 
Tlie  cold  of  winter  is  severe,  and  every  stick 
of  that  wjiich  o-ives  warmth  and  life  is  made 
to  vield  its  full  value. 

There  is  that  in  the  character  of  the  Swiss 
which  makes  of  him  the  true  craftsman. 
Shodily  goods  do  not  come  from  Switzerland. 
For  centuries  the  people  have  been  known 
for  tlieir  honesty.  They  have  been  doing 
lionest  work  for  tiioinselves  in  tlic  construc- 
tion of  roads  wliicli  \'iv  witli  the  famous 
Roman  roads  of  old,  in  terraced  vinej-ards 
that  serve  for  many  generations,  in  watches 
and  machinery  of  wonderful  accuracy  and 
solidity,  in  mountain  engineering,  which 
for  daring  and  safety  is  the  admiration  of 
tlie  woriil,  and  in  wooden  homes  that  need 
no  paint  to  hide  the  deficiencies  of  work- 
manship. 

Of  late  years,  wood  carving  has  taken  a 
new  impetus  and  grown  extensively.  In 
the  Oberland  the  peasants  have  for  cent- 
uries, during  the  long  evenings  of  winter, 
devoted  tliemselves  to  the  production  of 
articles  in  wood.  The  Swiss  pine  grew  at 
hand  and  lent  itself  to  the  ingenious  and 
skillful  use  of  the  knife. 

The  center  of  the  industry  has  long  been 
about  Interlaken,  and  near  by,  at  Brienz, 
a  wood  carving  school  has  become  a  great 
success.  It  has  not  only  turned  out  many 
scholars  who  can  make  good  things  and  a 
good  living,  but  the  influence  on  the  people 
has  been  elevating  and  beneficial.  Draw- 
ing inspiration  from  this  school,  more  tiian 
HOO  persons  are  at  work,  and  the  number 
is  constantly  increasing. 

The  work  is,  however,  almost  entirely 
tlone  in  the  homes.  Factories  do  not  flour- 
ish in  Switzerland.  Tiff'any  tried  this  in 
watchmaking  and  failed. 


The  school  itself  is  well  managed  and 
has  the  confidence  of  the  peo|)le.  It  is 
equipped  with  a  faculty  of  able  teachers, 
workrooms  and  proper  apparatus.  The 
Canton  and  Parish  contribute  lii)erally  to 
its  support.  The  course  is  either  three  or 
four  years.  There  is  a  small  entrance  fee, 
but  otherwise  instruction  and  material  are 
free.  From  the  second  year  pupils  receive 
one-half  the  proceeds  of  sales  of  their  work, 
and  also  premiums  for  meritorious  work. 

Brienz  has,  in  connection  witii  the  school, 
an  Industrial  Arts,  which  holds  a  sample 
exhibition  during  the  summer,  when  the 
tourists  visit  the  town. 

One  of  the  teachers  says:  "Without  the 
wood  carving  industry,  the  people  would 
have  to  emigrate  wholesale.  Not  only  do 
we  keep  our  population,  but  other  people 
come  from  different  parts  of  the  country, 
learn  the  industrj'  at  our  school,  and  settle 
here  for  good.  I  myself  am  an  outsider." 
Wherever  tourists  resort,  there  is  on  sale 
the  product  of  the  carver's  knife.  While 
far  behind  the  exquisite  work  of  Japan  or 
even  of  Italy,  the  work  is  yet  good  enough 
in  its  way  to  find  ready  sale  to  the  travellers 
from  man}'  lands.  Every  piece  is  just 
what  it  pretends  to  be.  There  is  no  pre- 
tense to  fine  art.  The  articles  are  mostly 
for  household  use,  such  as  salad  forks, 
plates,  chairs,  clocks,  canes,  book-racks, 
shelves,  frames,  etc.  Most  of  the  work  is 
done  in  the  village  homes.  Father  and  son 
work  together  in  the  front  room  of  tiie 
chalet,  while  the  product  of  their  tools  is 
spread  out  to  catch  the  attention  of  the 
passing  traveller.  Often  the  little  bench 
and  its  worker  are  moved  out  on  the  side- 
walk to  gain  more  light  and  advertise  the 
work  more  fully. 

Si 


A  iKiniMilij  I'l   natiirr  lui'l  slMlrtiwi 


All  cxccUiiit  cfffct  of  finilicT  coiistructiun 


36 


WOOD    IN    SWITZEULAM) 


The  industrial  schools  of  Switzerland 
are  nian\-.  There  are  schools  for  decorat- 
iiiii;  watches,  for  the  making  of  toys,  for 
basket  making,  for  joinerj',  wood  engrav- 
ing, art  cabinet  making,  and,  in  Geneva,  a 
large  and  flourishing  school  of  industrial 
art,  housed  in  a  building  costing  $1(50,000, 
and  ranking  with  the  one  at  Munich  as  the 
best  in  Europe. 

The  Swiss  village  home,  or  chalet,  is 
unique.  Cross  the  Alps  into  the  Canton 
of  Ticino  on  the  Italian  side  and  the  chalet 
disappears!  There  stones  take  its  place. 
The  village  is  there,  but  the  wood  has  given 
place  to  what  in  Italy  has  always  been  the 
building  material.  The  writer  has  stood 
on  Monte  Salvatore  near  Lugano  in  Ticino 
and  counted  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven 
stone  villages.  That  could  not  be  done  in 
any  part  of  Italy.  In  every  other  canton 
wood  is  the  favorite  material  for  the  village 
home.  Owing  to  the  original  abundance  of 
timber,  it  was  used  almost  exclusively  for 
the  building  of  houses,  and  the  famous 
chalets  have,  for  centuries,  been  the  homes 
of  the  people. 

In  every  Swiss  village  there  are  two  ex- 
ceptions to  the  public  use  of  the  wood.  The 
church  and  school  house  are  of  stone.  Re- 
ligion and  learning  are  too  precious  to  be 
at  the  risk  of  fire.  Not  that  fire  is  at  all 
common,  even  in  the  wooden  houses,  but 
there  is  a  feeling  of  security  in  a  stone 
building.  The  writer  has  spent  nearly  a 
year  in  Switzerland  and  has  seen  but  one 
fire,  and  that  was  in  a  hotel. 

In  1896  there  was  held  at  Geneva  a 
"National  Exposition,"  at  which  was  an 
accurate  reproduction  of  a  Swiss  village. 
The  chalets  were  copied  from  the  best  to 
be  found  all  over  the  country,   from  the 


richest  and  most  artistic  dwellings,  with 
their  carved  and  partially  painted  fa9ade3 
down  to  the  little  and  rude  mountain  shel- 
ters built  for  the  use  of  the  cowherds  in 
sunmier.  The  result  of  the  Swiss  village 
has  been  educational  and  stimulating  to  a 
renewal  of  the  older  forms  of  chalets. 
Architects  are  now  building  after  the  style 
of  one  hundred,  fifty  years  ago,  and 
man -^admirable  examples  are  to  be  found, 
and  a  better  art  is  manifested  than  in  the 
previous  twenty-five  years.  The  art  of 
building  in  wood  has  flourished  four  hun- 
dred years,  and  the  best  examples  belong  to 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 

We  lack  space  for  describing  technically 
tiie  construction  of  the  chalet.  A  few  gen- 
eral features  may,  however,  not  be  over- 
looked. 

A  true  chalet  does  not  cover  its  exterior 
with  paint,  or  hide  its  interior  wood  by 
paper  and  hangings,  which  can  never  be 
so  beautiful  as  the  natural  grain  of  the 
wood. 

Here  in  the  States,  we  often  spoil  our 
houses  with  paint  on  the  outside.  Many  a 
village  vies  with  the  rainbow  in  colors. 
Some  of  the  houses  are  bright,  some  faded, 
and  all  out  of  harmony.  How  much  better 
the  Swiss  custom  of  having  the  natural 
wood  merely  treated  with  refined  linseed  oil, 
and  then  leaving  time,  the  true  artist,  to 
use  its  sunshine  and  its  rain  to  mellow  the 
colors  of  the  wood  into  real  harmony  and 
beauty  ! 

Instead  of  liiding  the  materials  employed 
and  the  methods  of  their  employment,  every 
effort  is  made  to  show  the  joints  and  their 
fittings,  the  boards  and  timber,  so  that  what 
is  there  b}'  necessity  becomes  an  object  of 
decoration  and  harmony. 


-     -«(?^ 


A  wood-farvt'r's  shop 


WOOD    IX   SWITZKKLAXD 


Swiss  pine  in  age  takes  on  charming 
colors.  An  oriental  nig  is  not  more  sus- 
ceptible to  the  gentle  liaiul  ot"  time  than  is 
a  Swiss  chalet.  The  brush  of  the  years 
paints  in  charming  shades  of  tan,  sepia, 
grav  Riul  l>l;u'k.  Certainly  tlie  American 
village  paint  pot  may  well  retire  in  shame. 

As  may  be  seen  by  the  illustrations  there 
are  certain  distinctive  features  in  the 
ciialets.  The  foundations  are  of  stone  and 
often  go  half  way  up  the  first  story.  The.se 
are  generally  kept  whitewashed,  setting  off 
as  in  a  frame  all  the  woodwork  above. 
Stones  again  ai-e  often  found  on  the  roof. 
The  reason  of  this  is  chiefly  to  hold  the 
snow. 

In  the  plains,  where  there  is  nnicli  rain, 
the  roofs  are  steep,  to  throw  off  tiie  water, 
while  in  the  mountains,  where  there  is  much 
snow,  they  are  made  flat  and  dotted  with 
stones  to  hold  the  snow,  wiiich  aids  to  keep 
the  house  warm. 

The  wide,  overhanging  eaves,  from  tiiroe 
to  nine  feet,  which  are  universal,  are  to  ])ro- 
tcct  the  occupants  from  the  sununer  sun  and 
winter  snows.  In  sunnner  the  sun  runs 
high  and  is  kept  out,  while  in  winter  it 
runs  low  and  can  come  in. 

Balconies  are  also  ever  present.  A  chalet 
without  a  balcony  would  hardly  be  a 
chalet  at  all.  Here  the  entire  family  is 
accommodated.  It  is  the  den,  the  salon, 
the  sitting-room,  the  dining-room,  the  out- 
look, tiie  place  of  gossip,  the  place  for 
flowers  and  brilliant  color,  the  family  rest- 
ing place. 

In  many  of  the  chalets  the  chimney  is 
covered  with  a  board  which  can  be  raised 
one  side  or  the  other,  according  to  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wind. 

The  outside  staircase   is   very   connnon. 


The  entrance  is  usually  at  the  side,  some- 
times bv  stone  steps  to  tiie  tir>t  floor  and 
wood  stairs  to  the  second  floor. 

As  a  rule, the  windows  are  in  groups,  two, 
three  and  even  four  in  close  row,  and  then 
a  wide  space  of  Wood.  The  interiors  are 
finished  entirely  in  natural  wood.  In  the 
Museimi  at  Hale  are  various  rooms  finished 
and  furnislird  with  tlie  work  of  previous 
centuries.  Here  the  natural  wood,  mel- 
lowed by  age,  and  often  carved,  is  the  only 
decoration.  A  Swiss  would  find  it  difficult 
to  breathe  in  the  sturt'v  rooms  of  some  of 
our  modern  apartment  houses. 

He  is  accustomed  in  his  chalet  to  floors, 
uncarpeted,  of  creamy,  unpainted  pine 
wood,  and  very  clean,  to  low  raftered  ceil- 
ings and  walls,  decorated  with  the  natural 
grain  of  the  wood.  About  are  carvings  of 
maple,  beech,  or  waiiuit.  His  furniture  is 
jilso  of  wood,  solid  and  rich  in  ])laiiiness. 

Of  course  there  are  chalets  and  chalets. 
There  are  many  costing  from  ten  to  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  while  there  are  more,  like 
the  mountain  chalets,  for  instance,  occupied 
bv  the  herdsiiiiii,  without  ornament,  which 
may  be  built  for  tlirei'  iiiindrcd  dollars. 

Considering  that  Switzerland  is  the 
plavground  of  Europe,  and  that  tiie  rich 
and  prosperous  from  all  lands  are  constant- 
ly pouring  out  their  money  among  the 
Swiss  people,  it  is  remarkable  that  the  latter 
have  retained  their  habits  of  tlirift,  econ- 
omy, and  simplicity  of  life.  The  cost  of 
the  government  is  only  three  dollars  per 
capita  per  annum.  In  England  it  is  twelve 
dollars,  and  in  Erance  fiftei-ii  dollars. 

The  Swiss  are  a  nation  of  workers.  If 
there  is  a  leisure  class,  the  tourist  never  sees 
it.  No  one  is  ashamed  to  work,  no  one 
looks  down  on  tiie  craftsman. 


3!t 


40 


WOOD    I\    SWnZEULAXD 


Switzerland  has  no  castles,  no  walled 
towns.  She  has  been  governed  for  five  hun- 
dred years  by  her  own  people  and  without 
the  help  of  kings.  She  is  a  land  of  villages, 
of  homes.  Of  six  hundred  thousand  house- 
holders, five  hundred  thousand  own  a  bit  of 
land.      The  Swiss  are  the  freest  people  in 


the  world,  the  Athenians  of  moiluni  times. 
They  arc  the  most  universally  educated  of 
any  country,  it  being  their  boast  that  every 
one  who  is  not  mentally  incapacitated,  is 
able  to  read  and  write.  They  have  all  the 
virtues  and  none  of  the  vices  of  our  own 
political  life. 


I'^ditdr's  Note. — .\n  editorial  which  appeared  in 
tlie  Boston  I'ranscripl,  some  time  during  the  month 
of  August  last,  completely  justifies  the  statements 
made  by  Mr.  Corthell  regarding  the  prosperity  of 
Switzerland  and  the  causes  for  the  same. 

The  editorial  opens  with  a  quotation  from  Mr. 
Peek,  a  former  United  States  minister  to  the 
mountain  republic,  who  lately  said:  "There  is  no 
country,  no  nation  on  the  globe,  which  can  compare 
in  quality  and  number  of  educational  institutions 
with  those  of  Switzerland,  according  to  the  number 
of  inhabitants."  The  writer  of  the  article  then 
develops  a  comparison  between  Switzerland  and 
JIassachusetts,  in  both  of  which  commonwealths 
it  has  been  discovered  that  the  intelligence  of  the 
people  is  a  prime  cause  of  all  other  prosperity, 
material  as  well  as  moral. 

In  the  course  of  his  observations  the  writer  states 
that,  long  ago,  emigration  from  Switzerland  ceased, 
and  immigration  into  that  country  began;  since 
Germans,  French,  Italians  and  Slavs  were  and  are 
still  attracted  by  the  excellent  economic  conditions 
there  prevailing. 

The  democracy  of  the  European  state,  the  writer 
maintains,  is  much  more  essential  and  powerful 
than  that  of  Massachusetts:  popular  control  lieing 
now  almost  absolute,  and  preventing  the  use  of  the 


public  resources  for  the  selfish  advantage  of  the 
few.  These  conditions  are  maintained  by  means 
of  an  article  of  the  constitution,  tlie  Referendum, 
which  provides  that  all  measures  of  vital  import, 
ill  order  to  become  laws,  must  be  referred  to  tlic 
whole  body  of  the  citizens. 

The  editorial  closes  witli  a  second  ({notation  from 
.Mr.  Peek,  who  says  that  the  three  millions  of 
Swiss  consume  more  commodities  to-day  tlian  tlie 
fifteen  millions  of  Italians,  although  the  natural 
productiveness  of  the  two  countries  can  not  be 
compared. 

In  these  and  many  other  favorable  facts  to  be 
noted  in  the  present  condition  of  Switzerland  we 
may  discern  the  effects  of  good  government,  pure 
and  simple;  but  before  instituting  a  parallel  be- 
tween that  country  and  Italy  in  the  matter  of 
commercial  consumption,  the  geography  of  the  two 
countries  sliould  be  considered.  Switzerland  is 
protected  from  the  greed  of  the  continental  powers 
Ijv  a  natural  barrier.  Her  children  arc  thus  left 
free  to  cultivate  the  soil,  to  develop  manufac- 
tures, and  to  elevate  themselves.  On  the  contrarj-, 
Italy  is  now,  of  necessity,  an  armed  camp,  forced 
to  nourish  its  defenders,  who  are  drawn  away  from 
the  peaceful  life  of  the  fields  tliat  they  may  learn 
to  kill,  to  dev;istate  and  destroy. 


1_|BR  -^  ^    1 

SEP  '•>     1907 


/■^ 


.y 


w 


lioii'.c  at  Tal.-u-likiiic:  lU'siuiiiil  liy  8.  Jlalioiitiii 


THE  RACIAL  ART  OF  THE  RUSSIANS 

With  a  preface  and  adapted  from  the  French  by  Ihenk  Sabuknt 


THE  world,  it  would  seem,  is  weary 
of  precedent  and  tradition.  The 
most  refined  among  nations  and 
individuals  seek  freedom  and  de- 
mand a  simplicity  of  life,  thouglit  and  art 
verging  upon  crudeness.  Western  Europe 
turns  to  Russia  as  to  a  virgin  source  of 
ideas.  And  the  confidence  is  not  misplaced. 
In  the  vast  empire,  Slav,  Tartar,  ^longol 
and  Greek  have  mingled  their  elements  to 
produce  a  composite  population  most 
worthy  of  stiidy  and  most  fascinating  to 
the  man  of  less  complex  heredity.  The 
mental  superiority  of  mixed  races  is  ac- 
knowledged. The  receptivity  of  the  Russian 
has  been  discussed  by  historians  and  poi-- 
t  rayed  by  noveUsts.  The  latter,  especial!}-, 
once  delighted  in  representing  the  type  of 
the  noble  or  aristocrat :  subtle  and  assum- 
ing the  vices  of  older  civilizations  as  easily 
as  he  acquired  their  languages,  any  one  of 
which  he  spoke  without  the  accent  of  a  for- 
eigner. He  was  vicious,  cruel,  unbridled  in 
his  passions,  false  to  the  core, — such  as 
Cherbuliez  and  other  French  writers  of  two 
decades  since  represented  him,  in  stories  of 
sin  and  suffering  like:  "The  Count  Kostia." 
At  that  period,  also,  the  moiijik  or  peas- 
ant was  pictured  in  popular  tales  as  pos- 
sessed of  all  the  vices  generated  by  a  condi- 
tion of  servitude.  He  passed  his  life  in 
trying  to  deceive  the  master  whom  he  served 
and  the  saints  to  whom  he  prayed.  He  was 
the  fit  companion  of  the  dissolute  nobleman. 
Botii  were  accomplished  types  of  perverts. 


But  slowly  the  indigenous  art  of  the 
empire  li*as  revealed  a  different  Russian: 
the  suffering  sincere  peasant  of  Tolstoi's 
"(lospel  Tales,"  or  the  suffering  regenerate 
nobleman  of  the  same  great  writer's  "Res- 
urrection." The  aristocrat  has  been  puri- 
fied by  "going  to  the  people."  The  j)eople 
liave  been  found  to  possess  tiioughts  and 
ideas  worthy  not  only  of  expression,  but  of 
consideration ;  ideas  whicii,  whether  con- 
vej-ed  by  forms,  colors,  music  or  words, 
must  be  popularized  and  perpetuated  as 
examples  of  human  genius.  Art  is  the 
mirror  of  life  and  to  one  gifted  with  "the 
seeing  eye"  the  liistory  of  a  people  or  of 
an  individual  can  be  traced  in  the  works 
fashioned  by  the  human  hand,  for  all  ex- 
periences, all  memories,  all  aspirations  are 
contained  therein.  And  nowhere  are  these 
evidences  plainer  than  in  the  racial  art  of 
the  Russians  ;  in  the  products  of  their  iiand- 
icrafts,  in  tlieir  humble  objects  of  daily  ser- 
vice, as  well  as  in  their  churches  and  icons, 
brilliant  with  gold  and  jewels.  Russian 
art  is  eloquent.  Tartar  and  Northman 
speak  from  it  as  clcarl}'  as  words  can  say 
that  "ornament  is  the  first  spiritual  need  of 
the  barbarous  man."  This  barbarity  we 
find  in  the  use  made  in  Russian  enamels  and 
embroideries  of  the  primitive  colors,as  crude 
in  tone  and  as  boldly  combined  as  in  the 
decorative  schemes  of  the  North  American 
Indian.  On  the  contrary,  the  contact  with 
a  dominating  and  highly  civilized  influence 
•we  see  recorded  in  the  stiff  forms  and  pecu- 


Ll 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


liar  motifs  of  decoration  characterizing  the 
structural  efforts  of  the  Russian  peasants: 
their  houses,  tlieir  beds,  benches,  tables  and 
chairs,  or  other  things  wrought  in  wood. 
As  we  examine  these,  history  seems  vital. 


Table  siigerestive  of  the  Byxaiitine 
style:  designed  liy  .S.  Malimitiiie 

and  not  a  matter  of  dried  parchment  and 
crabbed  letters.  For  the  touch  of  the  By- 
zantine or  the  Greek  seems  yet  warm  upon 
the  object,  though  hundreds  upon  hundreds 
of  3'ears  have  elapsed  since  the  contact  oc- 
curred. 

This  singular  mingling  of  the  refined 
with  the  barbarian  element  is  certainly'  the 
great  source  of  attraction  in  the  Russian 
himself,  and  in  all  the  works  of  liis  imagi- 
nation and  intellect.  It  is  apparent  in  the 
splendid  religious  services  of  the  Orthodox 
Church,  which  offer  so  strong  a  contrast 
with  the  Roman  ritual,  and  carry  the  for- 
eigner who  witnesses  them  into  a  world  of 
sensuous  pleasure  quite  apart  from  that 
opened  by  the  organ  music  of  the  Latin 
mass.  The  impression  made  by  a  visit  to 
such  a  church  as  the  one  which  rears   its 


golden  domes  over  a  commonplace  boule- 
vard of  Paris  is  not  one  easily  cancelled  by 
years  of  ordinary  experiences.  The  bar- 
baric splendor  of  the  place  proves  that 
there  is  a  beauty  other  than  the  one  which 
is  subdued  by  rules  and  refined 
away  by  civilization.  The 
sensitive  heart  bounds  in  re- 
sponse to  the  unfamiliar, 
crude  modulations  of  the  un- 
accompanied chants ;  the  ej'e, 
grown  languid  by  delicate 
feasts  of  soft  shades,  receives 
a  vitalizing  shock  from  the 
almost  blinding  gold  and  the 
primary  colors  of  the  altar 
and  icons  and  vestments.  The 
ceremonies  conducted  b}'  the 
clergy,  the  almost  constant 
responsive  movements  of  the 
unseated  woi'shippers,  as  they 
prostrate  or  cross  themselves 
with  sweeping  gestures, — all  have  a  primi- 
tive, elemental  character  which  suggests  the 
wildness  and  freedom  of  the  steppes,  and 
open  vistas  into  past  ages,  when  the  pas- 
sions of  men  were  simpler  and  stronger,  and 
life  was  more  sincere  and  real. 

Movements  to  preserve  in  the  midst  of 
tiie  materializing  and  levelling  influences 
of  our  times  the  arts  of  primitive  peoples 
should  be  recognized  and  fostered,  whether 
the  arts  involved  are  those  of  the  Old  World 
or  the  New,  the  industries  and  handicrafts 
of  the  Russian,  or  those  of  the  North 
American  Indian.  For  such  movements 
are  purely  and  simply  the  expression  of  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  native  to  hu- 
manity. Art  is  as  necessary  to  life  as  food 
and  shelter,  and  whenever  its  abundance 
fails  and  its  fruits  wither,  life  is  robbed  of 


U. 


KACIAL  ART 

its  strongest  and  sweetest  sustenance.    This  universities  to  become  the  saviors  of  societv  ; 

fact,  altliough  carelessly  ignored,  has  per-  the  "new  art,"  smelling  of  the  soil,  fresh 

sisted  throughout   all   ages   and   types   of  from  the  hard  hands  of  peasants,  or  quick 

societj-.     Art,  religion  and  political  science  with  the  spirit  of  artists  who  worship  Na- 


Approach  to  house  at  Talachkinn:  desigrned  by  S.  Malioutine 


have  concurred  to  form  organic,  produc- 
tive periods.  The  three  are  inseparable 
companions  and  co-laborers.  Together 
they  assist  men  to  live  and  enjoy;  together 
they  leave  them  to  decline  and  suffer. 

At  the  present  moment  there  is  felt 
everywhere  the  vital  influence  of  the  three 
forces.  The  Gospel  of  the  Simple  Life, 
concurrent  with  the  Sermon  on  the  I\Iount, 
is  now  heard  from  the  Parisian  boulevards ; 
the  science  treating  the  relations  of  man  to 
man  as  those  of  brother  to  brother  is  the 
favorite  study  of  the  young  men  who  are  to 
go  out  from  the  Old-  and  the  New-World 


ture  instead  of  conventions,  is  coming  to 
be  acknowledged  as  the  legitimate  child  of 
the  people. 

It  is,  therefore,  as  a  significant  sign  of 
the  inspiring  age  about  to  be  that  we  should 
welcome  the  revival  now  in  progress  of  the 
racial  art  of  the  Russians  :  a  record  of  which 
appears  in  the  subjoined  article,  adapted 
from  the  French  of  M.  Gabriel  Mourcy, 
and  published  in  the  August  issue  of  the 
French  publication,  Art  ct  Decoration. 

Among  the  fatiguing  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  incoherent  fair  held  on  the  heights 
of  the  Trocadero,   Paris,  and  digiiitied  by 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


tlie  name  of  tlie  Exposition  of  1900,  be- 
hind the  great  palace  with  battlementcd 
facade,  lieavy  towers,  and  strange  spires 
capped  with  the  golden  figure  of  the  dou- 
ble-headed eagle,  there  was  a  quiet  spot,  a 
scene  of  charming  domesticity.  That  was 
the  Russian  village. 

Thev  were  indeed  exquisite,  those  wooden 
structures  with  their  roofs  marking  them, 
as  it  were,  with  a  foreign  accent ;  with  their 
exterior  staircases,  sheltered  by  carved 
hoods ;  with  their  small  porches  and  heavy 
balustrades  crudely  cut  and  carved.  Near 
the  miniature  church  flaming  with  the  gold 
and  enamels  which  constitute  the  Oriental 
sj)leiidor  of  the  orthodox  form  of  worship, 
one  found  the  restoration  of  a  rich  interior 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  a  display  of 
almost  barbarous  luxury:  sumptuous  stuffs, 
furniture,   coffers,  jewels,   costumes   heavy 


Sicit'li:   <lrMi.Mi.il   I, J    S.   .Malii.utll 


with  precious  stones — a  flashing  panorama 
of  tile  aristocratic  life  of  tliat  period,  brutal 
and  ostentatious.  But  very  near,  beneath 
the  balcony  of  a  bazar,  in  the  most  pictur- 
esque disorder,  was  amassed  the  merchandise 


of  a  market  day  in  some  village  of  Little 
Russia :  agricultural  implements,  household 
utensils,  shoes,  familiar  objects  in  metal- 
work,  wood,  leather,  and  papier  machc,  har- 
ness, knives,  clothing,  fur,  earthen-ware,  .  .  . 
a  confusion  of  primitive  forms  and  crude 
colors, — a  whole  of  curious,  ingenuous  sav- 
agery. 

It  was.  indeed,  the  great  isba  reserved 
for  Russian  decorative  art,  of  which  the 
lamented  Mile.  Helene  Polenoff  was  the 
restorer,  if  not  the  real  creator.  With  a 
rare  comprehension  of  the  genius  of  her 
race,  this  woman  understood — and  she  was 
the  first  thoroughly  to  understand  it  in 
Russia, — that  the  decorative  art  of  a  coun- 
try cannot  be  strong  and  significant,  unless 
it  express,  simply  and  plainly,  the  senti- 
ments, the  soul  of  all ;  unless  it  strike  its 
roots  into  the  very  hearts  of  the  people, 
and  take  its  inspiration  from 
their  traditions,  their  manners 
and  customs,  their  past,  his- 
toric and  moral :  otherwise,  it 
will  be  nothing  save  the  forced 
and  temporary  domination  of 
an  ordinary  fashion;  more 
tlian  ordinarily  dangerous, 
liowever,  since  it  threatens  to 
corrupt  the  soui'ces  of  inspi- 
ration and  the  taste  of  the 
masses.  jNIlle.  Polenoff,  it  is 
said,  had  a  thorough  ac- 
(juaintance  witli  Russian  his- 
tory and  archeology,  the 
methods  of  decoration,  the 
favorite  industries  of  each  district,  the 
spontaneous  and  accented  cliaracteristics  of 
the  work  done  by  these  village  artisans.  In 
a  word,  she  understood  all  that  is  implied 
by  peasant  art.     She  was  the  soul  of  that 


RACIAL  Airr 


movi'iiiont  whose  force  and  clianii  were  rc- 
vojikd  ill  the  Russian  village  of  the  Troca- 
(k'ro. 

In  1884,  Mile,  roleiioff  lie<j;iui  the  study 
of  tlie  decorative  motifs  of  the  peasants. 
I'his  study  was  partially  suggested  to  her 
l)y  the  initiative  of  a  friend,  ^Inie.  ^I.unon- 
toff,  who  had  just  founded  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  her  country  house,  at  Abraiutsevo, 
near  ^loscow,  a  scliool  of  wood-carvins  for 
the  young  peasants,  to  tiie  cyd  that  they 
might  have  a  regular  occupation  during 
the  winter.  As  a  consequence,  the  (piestion 
arose  as  to  what  motifs  would  best  respond 
to  the  public  taste;  the  intention  of  the 
founder  being  to  sell  the  objects  wrought 
at  the  school  in  the  shops  of  Moscow. 
Mine.  ManiontofF  and  Mile.  PolcnofF  de- 
cided, therefore,  to  visit  the  neighboring 
villages,  in  quest  of  utensils  in  carved  wood, 
of  salt-cellars,  spoons,  water-jugs  and  the 
like.  From  these  objects  I\Ille.  Polenoff 
sought  her  inspiration.  So  strong  and 
true  was  her  instinct  for  peasant  art,  that 
the  village  boys  found  keen  pleasure  in 
executing  her  designs,  because  her  compo- 
sitions recalled  vividly  the  things  familiar 
to  them  in  their  homes  since  childliood.    ' 

Such  then  was  the  initial  step  of  this 
movement.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  initia- 
tors could  not  do  otherwise  than  awaken 
respon.se.  At  Abramtsevo,  Mile.  Polenoff 
founded,  as  we  have  seen,  her  studios  for 
Wood-carving:  at  Sniolcnka,  in  the  Govern- 
ment of  Tanibotf,  a  studio  for  embroiderv 
was  opened  by  Mile.  JakounchikofF;  at 
'J'alachkino,  the  princess  Marie  Tenichcft", 
wlio  had  been  one  of  the  first  enthusiasts 
awakened  by  Mile.  Polenoff,  soon  followed 
the  example  of  the  latter  lady.  The  prin- 
cess had  already  established  on  her  domains 


a  school  of  agriculture  which  numl)ercd  two 
luindred  pupils,  boys  and  girls  alike,  to 
whom  she  afforded  a  complete  course  of 
study.  To  this  scliool  she  added  studios 
of  jicasant  art,  in  which  the  young  men 
and  boys  are  taught,  outside  of  their  hered- 
itary industry,  a  means  of  employment 
which  they  may  exercise  through  the  long 
winters.  In  this  way  they  become,  accord- 
ing to  their  tastes,  cabinet-makers,  smiths, 
harness-makers,  basket-weavers,  wood-carv- 
ers, or  decorators ;  while  the  girl-pupils  re- 
ceive instruction  in  sewing,  embroidery  and 
drawing. 

In  order  to  execute  this  sclieme,  at  once 
artistic  and  social,  tlie  jirincess  Tenicheff 
surrounded  herself  with  certain  associates 
who  were  capable  of  developing  the  artistic 
sentiment  in  these  peasant  children,  grad- 
ualh',  normally  and  according  to  the  nat- 
ural gifts  of  each  individual.  And,  as  it 
was  essential  from  the  first  to  determine  the 
direction  of  tlic  instruction,  a  museum  of 
archeology  was  established  at  Talachkino, 
in  which  architecture,  gold  and  silver  work, 
sculpture,  painting,  design,  the  textile  art 
iind  embroiderv  are  represented  by  charac- 
teristic and  instructive  works;  the  whole 
forming  an  eloquent  history  of  Russian 
art.  The  benevolence  of  such  an  institu- 
tion resting  on  deep  and  solid  bases,  could 
not  fail  to  be  appreciated  without  delav. 

The  illustrations  accompanying  these 
notes  give  an  idea  of  the  results  accom- 
plished. .And.  although  remote  from  us, 
from  our  traditions,  from  our  aesthetic  in- 
stincts, this  Russian  peasant  art,  by  its 
jirimitive  quality,  its  religious  fervor,  its 
love  of  the  mystic,  deserves  to  interest  us. 
It  is  lacking  in  refinement.  Its  utterances 
are  .sometimes  inarticulate,  but  the  phrases 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


that  it  spells  almost  painfully  have  the 
spontaneity  and  frankness  of  those  popular 
poems  and  melodies  in  which  the  soul  of  a 
race  perpetuates  itself.  It  has  an  irresist- 
ible eloquence  for  one  who  is  able  to  absent 
himself  from  a  conventional  environment, 
and,  laying  aside  class-prejudice,  to  enjoy 
such  strongly-flavored  ])roducHons.  In 
them  it  is  useless  to  seek  the  refinements 
given  elsewhere  to  decorative  art  by  cent- 
uries of  intensive  hereditary  culture  and 
of  forced  civilization,  by  the  insatialile 
desire     of    luxurv     and     elegance,     or     at 


museums.  One  must  not  exact  from  these 
village  and  peasant  craftsmen  more  than 
they  are  able  to  give  us.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  they  may  remain  sincere  and  simple  as 
they  now  are,  seeking  their  inspiration  only 
in  the  familiar  sights  of  their  life  and 
surrounding  nature,  allowing  their  racial 
imagination  to  flow  freely  through  their 
work. 

How  ingenuously  they  express  them- 
selves through  the  design  and  decoration  of 
their  embroideries,  architectural  details,  ob- 
jects of  household  furniture,  utensils,  pot- 


TlTnJ-i-.iMa.^  |.l.Miii.',-,l  II,  111,-  'I'ala.likill,,  workslioiis 

least    of    comfort,    wliich    is    characteristic  teries,  and  musical  instruments !      All  these 

of  our  time.      Neither  are  these  examples  are  extremely  simple,  absolutely  primitive, 

the    productions    of    trained    artists    who  with  the  essential  or  structural  idea  always 

breathe  the  air  of  cities  and  are  themselves  dominant,  and  sometimes  present  alone  with 

the    slowly-grown    fruits    of    schools    and  nothing  to  relieve  or  modify  it ;  with  a  sys- 


1.K 


RACIAL   ART 


tein  of  decoration  based  upon  the  earliest 
motifs  often  without  meaning, — tliat  is, 
representing  nothing  in  nature, — from 
which,  by  repetition,  tlie^y  succeed  in  com- 
posing very  successful  designs :  flowers 
crudely  conventionalized  placed  among 
combinations  of  hiaiiclios,  volutes  awkward- 
ly posed  as  units,  but  excellent  in  general 
effect ;  sometimes  fanciful  fish,  winged 
genii,  strange  animals,  landscapes  drawn 
with  child-like  simplicity — all  rendered  in 
striking  colors,  somewhat  barbarous,  but 
fused  into  a  hamnony,  attractive  because  of 
its  violent  contrasts.  Tlie  whole  forms  an 
art  expression,  frank  and  loyal,  hesitating 
in  its  utterance  like  the  speech  of  a  child, 
sometimes  also  like  a  child's  voice,  too  in- 
sistent and  noisy,  but  perfectly  sincere  and 
spontaneous,  with  phrases  of  incomparable 
piquancy.  This  is  truly  an  art  created 
by  the  people  for  the  people,  pleasure-giv- 
ing, because  it  is  healthy  and  honest.  It 
is  art  socialistic  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word,  and  the  initiative  of  those  who  have 
devoted  themselves  to  its  production  and 
propagation  must  be  applauded  without 
reserve. 

Beside  these  experiments  in  industrial 
and  decorative  art,  the  princess  TenichefF 
has  made  efforts  to  form  the  taste  and  exer- 
cise the  talents  of  the  Talachkino  peasants 
in  other  directions.  For  the  art-movement 
could  assume  the  activity  and  importance 
which  rightfully  belong  to  it,  only  through 
the  development  of  general  culture.  This 
lad}'  has,  therefore,  built  a  small  theatre  in 
which  the  peasant-students  present  national 
works,  comedies  and  dramas,  which  instruct 
them  in  the  heroic  legends  and  the  manners 
and  customs  of  their  great  country.  In 
the  same  community  popular  musi<;  receives 


much  attention.  There  exists  at  Talach- 
kino an  orchestra  of  thirty  musicians  who 
play  upon  the  hahihi'ika  (see  our  illustra- 
tion page  51 )  old  Russian  folk-melodies 
which  we  of  the  Western  world  know 
througii  the  composers  Balakirev  and  Run- 
sky-Kortchakoff.  This  music  has  a  pene- 
trating charm :  it  is  melanclioly,  strangely 
passionate,  and  wild  almost  to  savagery: 
possessing  at  once  the  most  subtile  har- 
monic refinement,  the  crudest  transitions 
and  a  most  characteristic  color-sense. 

But  the  masterpiece  of  this  restoration 
of  old  Russian  art, — a  work  which  owes 
absolutely  nothing  to  foreign  influence,  the 
most  complete  embodiment  of  the  racial 
])rinciples  which  has  been  attemyited  up  to 
the  present  moment,  is  the  church  now 
in  process  of  construction  at  Talachkino. 
It  was  begun  two  years  since,  and  will  re- 
quire an  equal  period  of  time  to  assure  its 
entire  completion. 

The  style  of  this  religious  edifice  must, 
it  is  said,  be  regarded  as  the  culmination  of 
the  results  accomplished  since- 188-t  by  the 
restorers  of  the  old  racial  art  which  had 
long  been  in  decline.  Aided  by  designers 
and  architects,  the  princess  Tenicheff, 
sought  throughout  Russia,  in  view  of  her 
scheme,  the  purest  and  most  brilliant  exam- 
ples of  the  old  art.  Of  these  she  caused 
elevations  to  be  executed,  casts  to  be  made, 
plans  to  be  drawn,  and  from  these  elements 
combined  and  fused  together,  tlie  idea  of 
the  church  at  Talachkino  arose. 

This  movement  of  intense  interest  is  one 
of  great  fertility,  for  it  has  its  source  in 
the  heart  of  the  people.  It  is  the  result  of 
the  traditions,  the  sentiments,  the  customs 
of  an  entire  race.  It  is  a  movement  which 
the    slowness    of    its    devel()])iiu'nt    and    the 


ifl 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


political  conditions  of  the  country  will  shel- 
ter for  a  long  time  from  exteriiiil  intlucnces, 
and  place  beyond  tlie  reach  of  the  seduc- 
tions of  cosmopolitan  degeneracy. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  such  initiatives 
bear  abundant  fruit. 

In  the  region  of  Tal.ichkino — and  the 
example     of  the     princess     TenichefF     has 


Colitliot  s[Mtiiiiiii:  wheel:  drsij^jietl 
hy  S.  Jlalioutiui- 

been  followed  qiiiekl_v  by  numerous  large 
rural  proprietors,  witiio\it  mention  of  the 
action  exerted  since  1888  by  the  iMinisters 
of  Agriculture  and  Domains — the  beneficial 
results  are  already  apparent:  tiie  children 
of  the  agriculturists  quickly   become  pro- 


ducers of  industrial  objects  upon  a  small 
scale,  supplying  the  necessities  of  current 
consumption  formerly  furnished  by  whole- 
sale industry  under  more  burdensome  condi- 
tions. These  small  producers  of  the  rural 
districts,  the  Koustori,  as  they  are  called, 
work  in  tiieir  own  houses  with  the  assistance 
of  their  families,  sometimes  even  employing 
one  or  several  workmen,  who  eat  at  the 
table  of  their  employer,  share  his  life  and 
aid  in  the  household  tasks.  Tiie  moral 
utility  of  such  conditions  is  evident,  since 
the  effect  of  manual,  personal  labor  thus 
understood  and  jjcrformed,  is  to  create  firm 
and  lasting  bonds  between  the  members  of 
a  social  class. 

Art,  thus  pursued,  exerts  its  true  civiliz- 
ing, refining  influence.  It  shares  in  life, 
it  becomes  an  integral  part  of  existence, 
instead  of  the  thing  of  luxury  wliich  we 
have  made  it.  It  becomes  the  recreation  at 
once  serious  and  joyous  which  all  human 
work  should  be.  Ruskin  liad  no  other 
dream  tlie  day  when  he  sought — alas,  with- 
out success — to  set  in  action  his  ideas,  his 
evangelical  conception  of  manual  labor. 
What  lie  was  not  able  to  realize,  others 
iiave  attempted,  in  other  countries,  in  more 
favorable  environment.  But  if  such  per- 
sons have  the  right,  like  the  princess  Teni- 
chefF, to  derive  a  certain  pride  and  satisfac- 
tion from  tiieir  triumph,  a  small,  perliaps  a 
large,  share  of  honor  should  be  paid  to  the 
autlior  of  Muncra  Pulvcr'ts  and  of  "Unto 
this  Last:"  to  the  man  who,  the  first  in 
Europe,  umkr  the  reign  of  literary  phari- 
saisni,  demanded  equally  for  all  the  right 
to  beauty,  to  pleasure  and  to  art. 

Tiierc  is  an  element  of  pathos  in  the 
activity  of  tiiese  humble  village  homes  into 
which  art  has  brought  a  ray  of  its  splendid 


.50 


IIACIAL   ART 


riuliance:  instead  of  idleness  and  of  tlie 
unhealthful,  depressing  effect  of  tiie  long 
winter  without  employment,  now  the  entire 
family- — women,  old  men,  children,  around 
the  stove,  beneath  the  evening  lamp,  fash- 
ion charming  things :  embroideries,  wooden 
utensils,  illuminations,  pieces  of  sculpture, 
or  cabinet-making.  The  artisans  offer  a 
wonderful  picture  in  themselves,  with  their 
crude  tj'pes  of  faces,  their  small  Slavonic 
e}"es,  heavy  with  dreams  and  melancholy. 
They  are  the  originals  of  the  Russian  peas- 
ants and  workmen  painted  by  the  masters  of 
romance,  Dostoievskj',  Tolstoi  and  Gorki, 
the  author  of  "Quicksands."  These  strange 
personalities,  intense  in  type,  in  life  and  in 
thought,  are  grouped  and  brought  into 
close  relationship  by  the  bond  of  happy 
labor.      A  young  woman  in  a  corner  of  the 


cottage  rocks  the  sleep  of  a  baby,  singing 
softly  a  melancholy  song  of  which  all  the 
others  repeat  the  refrain.  It  is  one  of 
those  moujik  or  boat-songs,  original  and 
striking,  which  have  been  sung  by  genera- 
tions upon  generations  of  human  beings.  It 
may  be  the  "Song  of  the  Little  Snow-ball," 
or  the  Lament  of  the  boatmen  of  the  Volga 
which  runs  through  Kecliutnikoffs  romance: 
"Those  of  Podlipnaia."  In  this  interior, 
this  genre  picture,  everything  accords  in 
perfect  harmony  with  the  rhythm  of  the 
song.  The  same  soul  is  manifest,  rejoices 
and  weeps  in  accents  of  the  most  touching 
sincerity.  It  is  the  fair,  ingenuous,  pas- 
sionate, childlike,  grave,  sorrowful  soul  of 
the  people  which  has  never  suffered  the  cor- 
rupting touch  of  high  civilization  and  the 
fatal  tvrannv  of  money. 


Balalaika  ^musical  instnimont):  decoration  by  Mile.  Uuvydoff 


jl 


JAPANESE  COLOR  PRINTS  AND  SOME 
OF  THEIR  MAKERS 


M.   LOUISE  STOWI.II. 


IN  order  to  understand  the  art  of  a 
people,  it  is  necessary  that  the  people 
themselves  should  be  understood,  not 
only  from  a  geographical  and  politi- 
cal standpoint,  but  in  those  higher  aspects 
which  arise  from  their  religious  and  aes- 
thetic ancestry. 

In  the  art  of  the  Japanese,  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  it  is  impossible  without  under- 
standing the  various  factors  which  have 
combined  to  make  this,  in  many  respects, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  peoples  in  all 
history. 

It  is  essential  that  we  should  become 
familiar  with  the  nature  of  the  Shinto 
teachings  in  order  that  we  may  comprehend 
the  all-pervading  spirit  of  reverence  that 
we  find  in  the  higher  types  of  Japanese  art. 
It  is  equall}'  essential  in  our  appreciation 
of  the  mystic  quality  in  that  same  art,  that 
we  should  be  acquainted  with  the  infiltra- 
tion of  Buddhist  teachings,  from  China 
through  the  Korean  peninsula,  to  Japan. 
The  insular  character  of  the  people  must 
also  be  given  great  weight  in  the  causes 
which  have  produced  their  art, — a  cause 
which  is  to  be  given  equal  prominence  with 
their  climatic  environment,  which  in  many 
respects  bears  a  curious  resemblance  to  that 
of  the  British  Isles. 

Also  in  the  study  of  this  art,  must  be 
taken  into  consideration  the  racial  charac- 
teristics   of    its    producers ;    having    their 


origin  as  they  did  in  tiie  Malay  peninsula, 
and  not  from  the  North  and  West,  as  com- 
luoniy  supposed.  They  have  retained  that 
sense  of  finesse,  diplomacy-  and  deportment 
which  seems  to  be  one  of  the  inherent  char- 
acteristics of  the  Malay  race  and  its  de- 
scendants. A  consideration  of  these  various 
factors  shows  us  that  the  Japanese  nmst, 
with  his  Shinto  tendencies,  reverence  his 
ancestors  and  delight  in  the  worship  of 
heroes.  From  his  Buddhist  teaching,  he 
has  an  almost  sensuous  delight  in  all  man- 
ner of  elusive  mysticisms.  The  supernal 
to  him  is  not  terrible,  but  familiar.  At  his 
nurse's  knee  the  rhymes  of  our  Mother 
Goose  are  supplanted  by  legends  'from  the 
Buddhist  mythology,  and  as  he  grows  older, 
it  is  not  the  ring  of  the  Nibelungen,  but  the 
tale  of  the  forty-seven  Ronins  that  inflames 
his  hoyisli  mind. 

In  his  childish  excursions  into  the  coun- 
try, which  is  circumscribed  in  area,  every 
material  feature  has  its  piquant  tale,  the 
hills  and  forests  their  gods  and  goddesses, 
and  the  streams  their  nymphs,  while  every 
cloud-form  reveals  a  deity. 

With  this  early  instruction,  it  is  but 
logical  that  every  phase  of  nature  should 
be  to  liim  simply  a  convention  which  stands 
for  a  legend  and  is  ever  associated  in  his 
mintl  with  that  particular  tradition.  Tiiis 
quality  of  mind  makes  him  a  devout  wor- 
shipjier  of  nature,  not  nature  per  se.  but 


.54 


COLOR  TRIXTS 


nature  as  the  connecting  link  with  that 
mvstic  world  of  which  he  learned  from  his 
mother's  lips :  in  this  being  analogous  to 
tiie  old  Greek  who  saw  the  nymph  in  every 
spring  and  the  dryad  in  every  tree.  As  a 
direct  issue  from  his  keenly  sensitive  mind 
and  the  tact  and  diplomacy  inherited  from 
his  Malacca  ancestry,  an  almost  infallible 
sense  of  proportion  is  common  to  him  and 
a  false  quantity  of  space  or  illy-opposed 
lines  are  as  grievous  to  his  aesthetic  sense 
as  would  be  a  discord  to  the  sensitive  ear 
of  a  musician.  If,  then,  we  set  aside  the 
unique  costumes,  the  unfamiliar  architec- 
ture, and  novel  landscape  contours,  and  bear 
in  mind  tlie  trend  of  the  Japanese  intellect, 
we  find  an  art  that  is  not  only  not  strange, 
but  which  is  intensely  real,  vital,  impres- 
sionistic, if  you  chose,  but  nevertheless,  the 
most  synthetic  and  fundamental  known  to 
historic  times.  This  art  display's  a  respect 
for  organic  form,  while  not  hesitating  to 
sacrifice  this  for  the  higher  qualities  of 
gracious  line,  well-disposed  space  and  beau- 
tiful color  which  may  be  in  separate  patch- 
es and  at  variance  with  Occidental  notions 
of  artistic  veracity,  yet  having  as  a  whole 
an  authoritativeness  and  finality  which 
stamp  it  as  one  of  the  world's  greatest  arts. 
It  is  only  necessary,  in  substantiation  of 
this  last  statement  to  establish  an  intimacy 
with  some  of  the  greatest  modern  French 
and  Englishmen.  If,  in  makiilg  a  critical 
estimate  of  Puvis  de  Chavannes,  Turner, 
Rossetti,  and  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones,  in- 
stead of  hunting  for  minor  defects,  as  the 
imperfect  drawing  of  a  buckle  and  the 
exact  color  of  an  unimportant  tree  trunk, 
we  approach  them  as  a  whole  and  take  into 
consideration  the  concession  to  chiaroscuro, 
which,    unfortunately    for    great    art,    has 


been  so  strongly  insisted  uj)on  since  the 
time  of  Leonardo  da  \'inci,  we  find  different 
motifs  ti-eatcd  in  precisely  the  same  way, 
and  so  sti'ong  is  tlie  relationship  between 
the  two  that  Turner  and  Iliroshigi  might 
have  changed  environments  without  detri- 
ment to  the  arts  of  their  respective  coun- 
tries. 

Jules  Breton  and  Utamaro  are  kindred 
spirits,  and  in  Puvis  de  Chavannes  is  to  be 
found  the  same  grasp  of  composition  and 
subtile  massing  of  dark  and  light  that  ob- 
tain in  the  fertile  Sesshu. 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  tliat  the  Jap- 
anese arti.st  is  unfamiliar  with  chiaroscuro, 
perspective,  or  in  fact,  any  of  the  illusive 
expedients  of  the  Western  painters,  but 
realizing,  as  he  docs,  that  an  exact  tran- 
script of  nature  is  to  a  certain  extent  anal- 
ogous to  that  form  of  music  which  renders 
the  crowing  of  cocks  and  the  squealing  of 
swine,  he  has  not  deemed  it  the  all  in  all. 

For  many  years  the  Shoguns  or  militar}^ 
hierarchy  had  their  court  painters,  who 
worked  exclusively  for  them  and  their 
friends  of  the  aristocracy,  until  the  common 
people  of  Japan  became  self-conscious 
through  the  frequent  visits  of  the  Dutch 
and  Portuguese  and  demanded  an  art  of 
their  own.  This,  of  course,  could  not  be 
satisfied  by  the  expensive  mural  decorations 
and  expensive  kakemona  on  silk,  for  the 
obvious  reason  of  the  cost  of  production. 

Hence  the  evolution  of  the  so-called 
broadsides  and  single-sheet  color  prints. 
The  latter  contain  a  subject  on  one  sheet, 
and  the  broadsides  have  the  subject  spread 
over  two  or  more  sheets  which,  when  placed 
together  in  their  proper  relations,  produce 
a  complete  composition  or  picture.  These 
prints,  while  being  generally  in  effect  col- 


Hiroshifii 


56 


COLOR    rUIXTS 


ored    wood-cuts,    are    vot 

so     inliereiitly     difforeiit, 

not  only  in  manufacture, 

but  in  result,  that  n  rudi- 

mentar}'   analysis    of   tiie 

operation  is  not  amiss  at 

this     point.       The     wood 

usually     employed     is     a 

variety     of    cherry,     the 

texture  of  which  must  be 

hard.     The  wood  is  first 

cut  into  planks,  and  these 

are     planed     until     they 

are    perfectly    level    and 

smooth,     free     from     all 

traces   of  the   plane   and 

show  some  lustre  on   the 

surface.      Both   sides    are 

finished  alike.      The  tools 

employed  are  knives  and 

chisels  of  the  best  quality. 

Written      characters      or 

pictures    are    then    drawn 

upon    a    certain    kind    of 

Japanese  paper,  and  the 

drawings   thus   made   arc 

pasted    face    down    upon 

a     prepared     plank     by 

means  of  .starched  pa.ste. 

The  plank  is  then  ready 

for   the    engraver.      This 

applies  to  prints  in  black 

only.      For    color    printing,    the    outlines      features    of    the   originals.      The    printing 

of  the  design  are  first  cut  and  printed  in      is    done    upon    moist    pai)er    with    water 

black  and  the  designer  of  the  picture  then      colors.    Five  colors  are  generally  employed : 

marks  on  different  sheets  the  parts  to  be      black,  white,  red,  yellow  and  blue,  all  mixed 

colored.      In    Japanese    wood-cutting,    the      with  the  necessary  quantity  of  water;  and 

direction   of  the   knife   is   almost   identical      the  various  hues,  shades  and  tints  are  ol)- 

with    that    of    the    brush,    and    wood-cuts      taincd   by    mixing   the   pigments   together. 

by  skilful  hands  therefore  show  the  exact      There  is  no  particular  method  of  producing 


llirnsliii^i 


Haraiiobu 


.W 


(()L()1{    I'HINrS 


these  colors.  The  result  depends  entirely 
uj)on  the  experience  of  the  printer,  who 
mixes  either  in  color-dishes  or  upon  the 
blocks  tiieniselves.  The  printer  places  his 
block  upon  the  table  before  him,  lays  on 
the  required  color  with  a  brush,  puts  a 
sheet  of  paper  down  upon  a  plank  and 
ligiitly  rubs  it  with  the  baren,  which  is  a 
small,  hard  shield,  consisting  of  a  stiff  disc 
covered  with  layers  of  paper  pasted  to- 
gether and  turned  up  on  the  edge,  and  cov- 
ered with  cotton  cloth  on  the  outside. 

A  second  disc  fits  into  this  shallow  recep- 
tacle and  is  held  in  place  by  a  bamboo 
sheatli  drawn  tightly  over  it  and  twisted 
together  to  form  a  handle.  This  rubbing 
with  the  baren  is  repeated  upon  a  number 
of  sheets  of  paper.  The  printer  then  takes 
up  another  plank,  makes  a  second  impres- 
sion upon  the  sheets  bearing  the  first  one, 
and  this  is  followed  by  a  third,  fourth,  etc., 
until  the  printing  is  completed.  Rice 
paste  is  sprinkled  over  the  pigment  upon 
the  block  and  the  brush  is  also  soaked  with 
this  paste  to  increase  the  brilliancy  of  the 
colors  and  to  fix  them  more  completely.  As 
each  color  requires  a  separate  cut,  each 
plank  must  have  certain  fixed  marks,  so  that 
all  the  sheets  may  be  laid  down  in  exactly 
the  same  position  to  ensure  the  fitting  of 
each  color  upon  the  others.  The  Japanese 
printer  depends  here  simply  upon  his  expe- 
rience :  the  registering  marks  on  the  block 
consisting  of  a  rectangular  notch  at  the 
right  and  a  straight  mark  at  the  left. 

It  is  evident  that  the  Japanese  printer 
must  be  an  accomplished  artist  to  be  able 
to  produce  with  his  brush  the  various  hues 
and  shades,  precisely  as  a  water-color 
painter  does.  lie  can  deposit  more  or  less 
pigment    on    the    block,    according    as    he 


needs  a  stronger  or  more  delicate  tint,  and 
can  also  produce  gradations  on  a  flat  block. 
To  produce  a  graduated  sky,  the  Japanese 
engraver  gives  the  printer  a  flat  block  on 
w  Inch  nierelj'  those  parts  are  cut  away  which 
correspond  to  objects  seen  against  the 
sky.  such  as  trees,  mountains,  houses,  etc., 
and  whicli  must  be  kept  free  from  the  blue 
sky  beliind  them.  On  this  block,  the  print- 
er stamps  the  gradations  needed,  and  if  he 
cannot  get  a  satisfactory  result  with  one 
printing,  he  uses  the  same  block  twice.  A 
block  may  be  printed  in  a  flat  tint  the  first 
time  and  then  charged  a  second  time  with 
another  color  gradation  and  printed  on 
top  of  the  first  to  produce  modulations. 
The  same  block  may  bo  printed  with  differ- 
ent colors  in  different  parts.  As  many  as 
one  hundred  and  twenty  impressions  or 
printings  have  been  known.  In  modern 
times  when  the  Japanese  needs  secondary 
or  tertiary  colors,  these  are  printed  by 
themselves,  though  in  the  old  prints  the 
printing  of  the  primaries  over  one  another 
to  produce  the  secondaries  occurs. 

The  wooden  blocks  naturally  soon  lose 
their  keen  edge,  and  in  first  editions  the 
printer  works  under  the  direct  supervision 
of  the  artist,  or  varies  the  color  composition 
to  please  his  own  fancy. 

The  later  editions  are  printed  more  care- 
lessly and  cheaply.  Good  specimens  of 
the  work  of  the  great  artists  may  be  yet 
procured,  but  are  growing  rarer  and  in- 
creasing in  value  every  year. 

In  the  earlier  period  of  Japanese  art, 
classic  standards  prevailed,  but  about  the 
year  1680  occurred  the  breaking  away 
from  old  traditions.  Numerous  schools 
and  styles  were  established. 

A  well-known  one  of  these  was  headed  by 


i» 


Toyokuiii 


fiO 


COLOK    rUlNTS 


Korin.  "  1k)  set  aside  tlie  rules  of  formalism 
ami  mux  be  described  as  an  ultra-impros- 
sionist,  but  still  one  who  was  imbued  with 
classic  feeling.  The  Kano  and  Tosa 
schools  held  sway  for  a  time.  Okio,  whose 
animals  and  birds  are  now  eagerly  sought 
by  collectors,  flourished  during  the  seven- 
teenth centur_v,  but  the  distinctive  school  of 
the  entire  period  is  that  of  Ukioye,  "The 
painting  of  the  floating  world,"  which  re- 
jects all  ideal  standards  and  mirrors  the 
passing  fashions  and  ordinary  recreations 
of  the  people  by  means  of  the  color  prints 
just  described.  These  prints,  which  pic- 
tured social  and  domestic  life  in  tlie  large 
cities,  were  sent  to  the  more  remote  towns, 
and  in  the  same  manner  as  we  now  preserve 
our  favorite  posters  and  book-plates,  were 
eagerl}'  treasured  bj-  the  people  for  the  de- 
light of  the  connoisseur  and  collector  of  the 
present  generation.  This  is  the  art  of  the 
common  people,  shaped  by  new  lines  pf 
intellectual  endeavor,  namely :  the  great  ex- 
pansion of  literary  works,  dramatization  of 
historic  events,  the  founding  of  theatres 
and  the  evolution  of  novels.  Stimulated 
by  these  resources,  tiie  people  began  to  ex- 
press themselves,  their  novel  sensations, 
their  new  activities.  Yeddo  during  this 
period  has  been  compared  to  Paris  during 
the  second  empire. 

Up  to  1T().5  the  art  of  printing  had  been 
confined  to  two  colors  with  black,  a  green 
and  a  pale  rose  or  beni.  Ilaranobu  great- 
ly improved  and  refined  the  art  of  printing, 
by  the  introduction  of  a  third  block  wliich 
permitted  the  use  of  olives,  lirowns  and 
grays.  In  consequence  of  this  innovation. 
a  wonderful  succession  of  fine  and  subtile 
color  passages  were  evolved  during  the  next 
three  years.     There  occurred  a  ripening  of 


process,  a  more  complete  understanding  of 
the  possibilities  of  the  color  blocks.  This 
was  the  flowering  of  the  Ukioye  period.  A 
season  of  fine  lino,  delicacy'  of  tint  and 
broad  color  eff"ects,  was  followed  by  a  reac- 
tion from  the  high  refinements  of  color; 
while  clever  but  coarse  rendering,  careless 
drawing  and  cheap  printing  became  preva- 
lent. The  leader  in  this  descent  was  Uta- 
maro,  although  the  downward  course  was 
partly  arrested  for  a  time  by  the  efforts  of 
that  galaxy  of  brilliant  names,  Hokusai, 
Hiroshigi,  Toyokuni,  Yeisen,  and  Kuna- 
sada,  great  masters,  whose  productions  de- 
serve tlie  most  careful  attention. 

Utamaro  was  born  in  1754  and  died  in 
1806.  Extremely  sensitive  to  line  and 
color,  he  was  illiterate  and  dissipated.  He 
produced  some  landscapes,  but  his  prints 
are  principally  portraits. 

Toyokuni  was  born  in  1768.  He  learned 
the  art  of  color  printing  and  distinguished 
iiiniself  by  its  aj)plication.  He  died  in 
1825,  and  is  remembered  by  his  portjaits 
of  actors  and  dramatic  scenes,  and  his  il- 
lustrations to  novels.  An  artistic  rivalry 
existed  between  hiin  and  Utamaro.  If 
Toyokuni  would  put  forth  illustrations  to 
a  story,  Utamaro  would  immediately  at- 
tempt the  same  subject  with  a  more  ideal 
and  romantic  treatment.  Where  Toyo- 
kuni emphasizes  the  humanity  of  his  crea- 
tions, Utamaro  poetizes  and  invests  them 
with  a  refinement  of  idealism.  Hokusai 
was  born  in  1760,  and  achieved  his  greatest 
results  in  color  prints  and  illustrated  books. 
Of  marvelous  versatility  and  remarkable 
genius,  he  seems  never  to  have  been  aware 
of  this  power  or  his  supreme  capabilities, 
and  we  find  him  ado])ting  difl^erent  masters 
and  not  always  those  of  the  highest  artistic 


(il 


Sadahiili 


COLOR    rU  I  NTS 


integritj- — and  swayed  by  tlie 
most  opposing  influences 
tliroughout  liis  entire  artistic 
career. 

He  Iiad  various  manners,  at 
times  almost  a  fatal  facility  of 
■dashing  off  his  clever  impres- 
sions, his  middle  period  being 
much  finer  in  artistic  concep- 
tion than  either  earlier  or  later. 
He  broke  from  all  art  tradition 
and  followed  inilependcnt  lines 
of  creation.      Many  interestine 
■anecdotes  are   related   of  him. 
Upon  one  occasion,  his  enemies, 
observing   that    he   could    pro- 
duce nothing  greater  than  the 
little  book  illustrations  then  in 
vogue,    he    confused    them    bv 
drawing  in  public  a  head  thir- 
ty-two feet  high.      On  another 
occasion,     he     drew    a     paper 
horse  as  large  as  an  elephant. 
and  immediatelj-   followed  this 
by    the    representation    on    a 
grain    of    rice    of    two    spar- 
rows   in    flight.     The    follow- 
ing   passage    is     recorded     of 
him:     "From    my    sixth    year 
I    had    a    i)erfect    mania    for 
drawing     everything     I     saw. 
When    I    reached    my    fiftieth 
year      I      had      published      a 
vast     quantity     of     drawings, 
but   I   am   dissatisfied   with   all 
that    I    produced    before    mv 
seventieth    year.     At    seventy- 
three    I    had    some    understanding    of    the      discovered 
power  and   real   nature  of  birds,   fisii   and      things. 

plants.      At  eighty    I    hope   to  have   made  "In  my  one  hundredth  year  I  shall  rise  to 

farther   progress,    and    at    ninety    to    have      yet  higher  spheres  unknown  and  in  mv  one 


II;. ran.. I. u 


the     ultimate     foundation     of 


(>:< 


64 


COLOR    rUINTS 


hundred  and  tenth,  every  stroke,  every 
point,  and  in  fact  everything  that  conies 
from  my  hand  will  be  alive.  Written  at  the 
age  of  sevent3--five,  by  me,  Hokusai,  the 
old  man  mad  with  drawing." 

He  changed  his  world,  as  the  Japanese 
have  it,  at  the  age  of  eighty-nine,  and  is 
buried  in  the  temple  at  Yeddo :  his  last  utter- 
ance lieing  the  plaintive  prayer  that  heaven 
would  but  grant  him  another  five  years  to 
become  a  great  artist.  Yeisen,  who  flour- 
islied  during  that  period,  had  an  interest- 
ing and  somewhat  unusual  personality. 
Born  of  cultured  parents,  he  was  filial, 
dutiful,  and  of  notable  success  as  both 
author  and  painter.  The  reputation  of 
his  color  prints  rests  on  his  portraits  of 
actors  and  beauties.  He  objected  to  be- 
coming famous,  and  would  abandon  com- 
missions from  his  publishers  to  devote  him- 
self to  jirojects  for  toys,  kites  and  designs 
behind  which  he  could  conceal  his  identity. 

Dissipation  claimed  him  time  and  again, 
and  he  at  length  retired  to  private  life, 
saying  that  fortune,  if  tempted  too  long, 
might  go  as  easily  as  it  had  come,  and  that 
it  were  better  for  him  to  discharge  his 
patrons  than  that,  by  reason  of  old  age  or 
incapacit}',  they  should  see  fit  to  discharge 
him.  The  date  of  birth  of  Hiroshigi,  the 
great  landscape  painter  of  Japan,  is  some- 
what of  a  mystery,  owing  to  the  existence 
of  two  or  possibly  three  artists  of  his  name 
who  worked  in  the  same  vein.  Not  much 
that  is  authentic  can  be  stated  of  his  per- 
sonality, but  it  seems  certain  that  one  of 
the  Hiroshigi  died  about  1846.  His  con- 
vincing landscapes  have,  to  quote  Mr.  Ed- 
ward Strange,  "all  the  simplicity  of  a 
master  and  every  fault  known  to  European 
canons  of  criticism." 


One  marvels  ceaselessly  at  the  breadth  of 
his  color  passages,  the  taste  which  selects 
and  combines  these  tones,  the  interdepend- 
ence of  which  may  be  seen  by  covering  with 
the  hand  some  one  of  the  man}'  patches  of 
color  and  noting  how  the  whole  design  has 
lost  something  which  can  be  obviated  only 
by  the  restoration  of  the  missing  patch. 
In  examination  of  these  prints,  even  if  we 
do  not  accept  the  convention,  we  are  im- 
pressed b}'  the  fine  dexterity  of  the  artist 
and  his  intuitive  knowledge  of  his  craft. 
He  attempts  nothing  beyond  what  can  be 
rendered  by  lines  and  flat  masses,  and  the 
j)rints  are  to  be  enjoyed  as  we  enjoy  a  rug, 
for  their  physical  beauty  only ;  for  the 
Japanese  print  does  not  attempt  a  moral, 
and  seldom  tells  a  tale,  but  in  its  abstract 
beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being.  The 
law  of  art  in  Japan  is  manifestly  the  same 
as  that  law  in  Egypt,  in  France,  in  Amer- 
ica, but  one  sees  this  law  so  absolutely 
obej'ed  in  the  production  of  the  best  Jap- 
anese art  that  one  is  apt  to  set  down  its 
application  as  universal  in  the  latter  coun- 
try. There  exist  certain  lines  and  shapes 
which  are  universally  and  inherently  recog- 
nized as  good. 

The  reason  for  tiieir  excellence  must  be 
sought  in  the  foundations  of  the  world  and 
the  construction  of  our  nervous  systems. 

The  combination  of  these  elements  in 
such  wise  that  each  shall  enhance  the  other, 
while  from  this  combination  arises  the  sin- 
gle characteristic  unit  upon  which  all  minor 
qualities  depend,  constitutes  that  upon 
which  the  production  of  u  good  j)icture 
rests. 

The  mode  of  combining  these  elements 
varies  with  the  power  of  the  individual — 
the  greater  the  faculty  of  a  wise  selection 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


this    distinction,    art    is    synthetic, 
science  is  analytic. 

As  science  is  analytic,  we  can 
add  to  it,  subtract  from  it,  multi- 
ply it,  or  divide  it.  From  art  the 
synthetic,  we  can  remove  no  ele- 
ment without  agitating  the  equi- 
librium of  the  whole,  since  each 
element  is  sensitive  to  every  other 
element. 

Reducing  to  their  simplest  form 
these  Japanese  color  prints,  we  ar- 
ri\e  at  the  skeleton  construction  or 
line  idea  of  the  composition.  We 
find  lines  and  shapes  inherently 
good,  acting  upon  our  emotions 
and  giving  us  pleasure,  because  so 
combined  by  the  skilful  hand  of  the 
artist  that  a  synthesis  is  produced 
in  which  each  line  is  virile.  The 
quality  of  the  line  should  be  con- 
sidered. According  to  his  temper- 
ament the  Japanese  so  renders  this, 
that  it  is  bold,  rugged,  massive,  or 
tender,  delicate,  poetic. 

Observing  next  the  dark  and 
light  elements  of  the  print,  we  are 
delighted  by  the  same  skilful 
choice  of  masses  of  dark  vibrating 
against  masses  of  light.  Be  it 
said  here  that  the  Oriental  has 
never  considered  the  representation 
of  cast  shadows  as  a  thing  of  serious 
and  rejection,  the  greater  the  technique.  importance.  All  impermanent  manifesta- 
The  composition  of  art  form  is  identical,  tions  of  nature  representing  a  mood,  are 
whether  the  creative  impulse  is  expressed  discarded  in  his  scheme.  Thunder,  light- 
by  means  of  sculpture,  poetry,  music,  ning  and  tlie  like  phenomena,  when  oc- 
painting  or  architecture;  each  of  these  curring  in  the  prints,  are  to  be  re- 
mediums  having  its  special  advantages  as  garded  as  symbols  and  interpreted  for 
well  as  its  limitations.  Art  is  individual,  their  esoteric  significance.  Black  and  white 
science    is    cooperative.      Proceeding    with      is  a  principle  to  be  studied  for  its  own  sake, 


Shiinslio 


^6 


COLOR   rUIXTS 


a  field  of  creation  as  important  as  line  or 
color,  while  distinct  from  it.  The  third 
great  clement  which  arrests  our  attention 
is  that  of  color,  full,  rich,  free,  or  sub- 
dued, mellowed,  tender,  but  always  har- 
monious. The  Japanese  artist  does  not 
consider  the  independent  colors  of  the  ob- 
jects with  which  he  deals,  but  devotes  his 
energies  to  the  final  result  of  his  combina- 
tions: the  various  color  patches  undergoing 
modification  by  their  juxtaposition,  and 
the  outcome  being  the  value  of  the  separate 
combinations,  plus  the  value  of  the  sum 
total  of  their  combinations. 

This  is  the  tru.e  Japanese  idea  of  a  syn- 
thetic harmony  as  exemplified  in  these 
prints  by  Hokusai,  Hiroshigi,  etc. — one  in 
which  no  single  element  can  be  taken  away 
without  depriving  the  whole  of  its  wonder- 
ful strength.  If  it  were  passible  to  alter- 
nate the  art  of  the  Japanese  with  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  primitive  Italians,  in  other 
words,  the  painters  prior  to  the  time  of 
Raphael,  it  would  be  instructive  to  notice 
tiie  striking  similarity  in  the  reverential 
way  in  which  these  two  races  uttered  their 
messages :  first,  the  quality  of  having  some- 
thing to  saj' ;  and  next,  the  direct,  forceful 
and  simple  manner  in  which  it  is  said.  The 
absolute  insistence  upon  every  fact  and 
detail  which  make  the  utterance  clearer 
and  the  ruthless  suppression  and  elimina- 
tion of  everything  that  tends  to  interfere 
with  or  obscure  the  intent  of  the  artist. 
Also  the  same  disregard  for  academic  con- 
ventionalities, so  often  the  refuge  for  the 
impotent,  and  in  each  a  simplicity  that  al- 
most leads  the  critic  to  exclaim,  if  it  were 
not  blasj)hemous,  "Except  ye  become  as 
little  children,  ye  may  not  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  art."  It  is  a  fact  as  well 
established  as  the  geological  epochs  of  the 


world's  history,  that  we  have  first  the  long- 
ing to  express  b}'  sj'mbols  the  ideas  teem- 
ing in  the  brain  of  man,  next  the  sophisti- 
cation in  the  practice  of  these  symbols,  fol- 
lowed b}'  the  period  when  the  art  of  the 
craftsman  assumes  greater  proportions 
than  the  idea  to  be  expressed,  again  fol- 
lowed by  the  utter  degeneracy  and  chaos 
of  the  art,  which  in  time  is  succeeded  by  a 
period  of  artistic  death  only  quickened  by 
the  desire  again  to  say  something.  This 
evolution,  which  is  common  to  all  of  the 
arts,  and  literature  as  well,  has  not  in  the 
history  of  the  world  hitherto  been  coinci- 
dent in  time:  the  one  country  seeming  to 
have  grasped  the  sacred  fire  when  it  was 
laitl  ilown  in  the  artistic  tluath  throes  of 
another.  This,  with  sorrow  be  it  said,  is 
the  case  with  the  art  now  under  considera- 
tion. Contact  with  the  Western  world  hav- 
ing revealed  to  the  Oriental  artist  new  and 
untried  possibilities  of  technique,  he  imme- 
diately strove  as  a  matter  of  pride  to  emu- 
late, if  not  outdo,  the  work  of  the  foreign 
devils,  with  the  result  that  in  grasping  for 
these  novelties  of  technique,  he  relinquished 
the  great  and  vital  principles  of  his  ances- 
tors and  too  late  discovered  that,  like  Esau, 
he  had  bartered  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of 
distinctU'  inferior  pottage.  At  the  present 
time  the  more  enlightened  of  the  Japanese, 
including  their  wise  IMikado,  perceiving  the 
disaster  that  has  overtaken  the  national 
art,  are  trying  to  restore  it  to  its  former 
lofty  position,  but  with  only  a  questionable 
success,  and  it  is  nnich  to  be  feared  that  not 
in  our  time  or  generation  will  again  be  seen 
the  glory  of  line  and  color  that  blazed 
across  the  artistic  firmament  during  the  ex- 
istence of  the  great  "Painting  of  the  Float- 
ing World,"  the  Ukioye  of  Japan. 

(i7 


lUX  ENT  EXAMPLES  OF  ENGLISH  JEWELRY 

These  illustrations,  which  first  appeared  in  a  recent  number  of  the  occasional  publication, 
L'er  Moderne  Stil  of  Stuttgart,  will  be  found  deserving  of  study  by  lovers  of  history,  as 
weU  as  by  those  interested  as  craftsmen  in  the  production  of  artistic  personal  ornaments.  The 
originals  of  the  illustrations  were  designed  and  executed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Gaskin  of 

Acocks  Green,  Worcester- 
shire, England,  and  were 
shown  at  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Exhiliition,  held  in 
London,  in  January  of 
tlie  present  j'ear. 

The  ornaments  are,  in 
every  case,  pleasing  and 
lefmed;  showing  an  inti- 
mate knowledge,  an  ex- 
tremely close  study  on  the 
part  of  the  designers  of 
the  styles  of  various  jje- 
riods  and  peoples,  as  well 
as  of  the  development  of 
the  goldsmitli's  art.  They 
can,  of  course,  be  criti- 
cised as  timid  in  design, 
when   compared   with   the 


^     'y^'^ti 


(>H 


brilliant  work  of  M.  Lallque;  but  such  u  comparison  would  be  plainly  unjust.  This  for  the 
reason  that  the  Frenchman's  art  and  craftsmanship  are  both  phenomenal,  and,  also,  because 
in  the  English  work  I'.trt  XouKcau  appears  as  a  modifying,  not  as  a  direct  influence.  The  de- 
sign at  the  right  of  the  illustration  numbered  11.  is  an  agreeable  bit  of  Celtic  ornament,  a  re- 
vival of  which  is  now  in  progress  in  England,  as  is  evidenced  l>y  the  new  Liberty  silverware 
and  other  significant  productions. 

In  numbers  1\'.  and  V.  the  medisval  quality  is  a|>pareiit  in  the  use  of  the  human  figure; 
the  design  recalling  many 
seen  in  the  gem-cabinets 
of  continental  museums. 
But  the  strongest  influ- 
ence revealed  throughout 
the  work  is  that  of  tlie 
period  of  the  Emperor 
Charles  Eifth:  when  the 
materials  for  goldsmitlTs 
work  were  furnisheil  by 
a  vast  empire  upon  which 
the  sun  never  set.  Cu- 
rious workmanship,  col- 
ored gems  and  baroque 
pearls  arc  now  lending 
gre;it  beauty  to  those  ol)- 
jects  of  personal  adorn- 
ment which  have  been  too 
often  a  barbaric  display 
of  wealth. 


ffi*ap. 


«     > 


C!) 


POTTERY  SCHOOL  OF   NEWCO.MB  COLLEGE, 
TULAN'K   UXIVEUSITY,    NEW   ORLEANS 


AN  ART  IXDrSTin'  OF  THE  BAYOUS 

Tin:  roTTKUv  or  nkwco.mb  college 

IKKNK  SARGENT 


A  S    we    continue    our    studies    of    the 

/^k  potter's  art  in  the  United  States, 
/  ^L  we  find  that  no  region  of  our 
country  can  chiini  exclusive  right 
to  eitlier  tlie  art  idea  or  the  technical  skill 
which  produces  the  beautiful  vessel  of  cla}-. 
The  conditions  of  art,  science  and  industry 
now  prevailing  among  us,  appear  to  have 
set  in  action  Longfellow's  poem  of  Kera- 
mos.  The  whir  of  the  fashioning  wheel  is 
heard  alike  in  East,  West  and  South. 

In  the  last  named  section,  a  most  interest- 
ing and  practical  enterprise  has,  for  some 
years,  been  in  operation,  and  has  already 
reached  a  marked  degree  of  success. 

The  enterprise  originated  in  the  art 
school  of  the  H.  Sophie  Xewcomb  Memorial 
College,  at  New  Orleans,  which  is  itself  a 
department  of  the  Tulane  University  of 
Louisiana.  The  school,  founded  in  1887, 
first  directed  its  efforts  to  educate  teachers 
of  the  fine  arts  and  to  become  a  center  of 
aiesthetic  culture.  These  aims  were 
proven  to  be  somewhat  lacking  in  prac- 
tjcalit}'.  It  became  evident  to  the  founder 
and  the  instructors  that  the  work  of  the 
school,  as  at  first  planned,  could  not  be 
widel}'  useful,  until  there  should  arise  such 
active  demand  for  the  productions  of  ar- 
tists, as  would  justify  the  study  of  art  to 
those  desirous  of  becoming  creative  painters 
and  designers,  ratlier  than  teachers. 

It  was  therefore  decided  by  those  having 


the  control  of  the  school  to  give  the  instruc- 
tion an  industrial  direction ;  to  lend  an 
impetus  toward  founding,  throughout  the 
Soutii,  manufactures  which  demand  the 
exercise  of  taste  and  skill  in  the  producer, 
develop  critical  power  in  the  public,  and 
largely  increase  the  prosperity  of  tlie 
locality  in  which  they  are  situated.  With 
these  purposes  in  view,  in  1896,  a  pottery 
was  establislied  as  a  dependency  of  the 
school,  into  which  were  received  to  be  in- 
structed classes  of  young  women  for  whom, 
by  reason  of  their  own  slender  financial  re- 
sources, as  well  as  the  economic  and  artistic 
status  of  the  section,  fine  art  courses,  as 
distinguished  from  art  courses  having  an 
industrial  character,  would  have  been  im- 
practicable and  unwise.  There  ensued  a 
natural,  unavoidable  period  of  experiment, 
which  has  alread}'  been  followed  by  most 
hopeful  conditions  and  excellent  positive 
attainment.  Within  the  seven  years  of 
its  active  existence,  the  pottery  has  sent 
out  a  number  of  students  who  have  gained 
both  profitable  employment  and  reputa- 
tion; while  the  products  of  the  pottery  re- 
ceived a  medal  at  Paris  in  1900,  and  again 
at  the  Pan-American  in  1901. 

The  same  wise  policy  which  gave  an 
industrial  tendency  to  the  art  teaching  of 
the  college,  determined  the  aims  to  be  pur- 
sued in  the  pottery,  which  is  virtually  a 
school.     A  strict  supervision  over  the  cera- 


71 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


mic  products  was  early  established,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  over-development  of  the 
commercial  spirit,  which  was  the  greatest 
evil  to  be  avoided.  Another  equally  wise 
provision  of  the  policy  was  made  in  the 
interest  of  what  may  be  called  sectional 
patriotism.  It  was  an  effort  to  create  an 
artistic  industry  whicli  should  utilize  native 
raw  material,  develop  native  talent,  and  so 
symbolize  the  place  of  its  activity  as  to 
attract  and  enlist  the  attention  of  the  out- 
side world.  With  these  projects  before 
them,  the  artists  in  charge  of  the  school 
gave  much  thought  to  the  designs  to  be 
employed  in  the  pottery.  Acceding  to  the 
new  art  movement,  which,  felt  throughout 
the  world,  is  a  return  to  Nature  as  the 
source    of    inspiration,    the    designers    se- 


lected their  decorative  motifs  from  the 
vegetation  indigenous  to  the  entire  South ; 
making,  of  course,  special  reference  and 
allusion  to  the  flora  of  Louisiana.  The 
question  of  material  was  met  by  a  choice  of 
clay  taken  from  the  Bayou  Tchulakabaufa 
in  ]Mississippi,  and  thus  was  created  an 
artistic  industry,  which  took  its  higher 
qualities,  its  suggestiveness,  as  well  as  its 
body  of  clay,  from  the  section  in  which  it 
was  destined  to  flourish. 

A  third  provision  instituted  for  its  edu- 
cational intent,  as  well  as  a  preventive 
against  degeneracy  in  the  products  of  the 
pottery,  is  worthy  to  be  noted.  It  is  a  rule 
insuring  that  each  piece  shall  be  original 
and  never  duplicated ;  that  it  shall  bear  the 
monograms  of  the  college,  the  designer  and 


•i-f-H 


Pottery  srhodl:  interior  view 


ART    IXDISTRV 


the  potter,  so  tliat  it  may  prove  a  source  of 
responsibility  to  the  institution  and  the 
individuals  producing  it,  and,  if  wortliv, 
become  a  means  of  gaining  reputation  for 
its  producers. 

Tlie  decorative  motifs  enij)loycd  in  the 
Newcomb  pottery,  belong  to  one  of  the 
two  divisions  of  the  modern  school ;  that  is, 
the  one  which  bases  all  design  upon  plant- 
forms,  as  distinguished  from  jjurely  linear 
ornament. 

The  floral  forms  used  in  the  pottery 
under  consideration  are  simple,  and  con- 
ventionalizetl  only  to  a  barely  necessary 
degree.  They  show  the  plant  as  a  whole, 
rather  than  a  section  or  the  detail  of  a 
flower,  which  latter  is  the  manner  of  the 
Paris  and  Dresden  schools  of  design.  This 
movement  toward  simplicity  is  judicious, 
since  many  of  the  pieces  are  the  work  of 
.students  and  experimentalists,  rather  than 
of  accomplished  artists ;  also,  because 
through  the  employment  of  more  highly 
developed  design,  the  potter}'  would  lose  its 
distinctivelv  sectional  character.      It  would 


be  much  less  a  product  of  the  region. 
These  floral  decorative  motifs  are  ap- 
plied to  the  ware  by  various  methods. 
Sometimes  they  appear  modeled  in  low 
relief ;  sometimes  they  are  incised ;  in  other 
instances,  they  are  painted ;  or  yet  again, 
the  three  methods  are  found  in  combination 
upon  a  single  vase.  By  such  treatment, 
the  designer  asures  the  pleasure  of  the  eye, 
which,  otherwise,  in  some  cases,  might  not 
be  suflicient,  owing  to  the  simplicity  of  the 
motifs  of  ornament. 

A  corresponding  freedom  in  the  choice  of 
color  was  at  first  encouraged ;  but  condi- 
tions such  as  the  composition  of  the  paste 
and  other  technical  requisites  have  estab- 
lished a  blue-green  tone,  which  is  not  to  be 
regretted  as  monotonous,  since  it  unites 
with  the  design  itself  and  the  methods  of 
applying  the  design,  in  forming  the  dis- 
tinctive character  of  the  Newcomb  pottery. 
But  it  must  not  he  understood  that 
potter^'  of  the  characteristic  bhie-green 
alone  bears  the  mark  of  Newcomb  College. 
A   notable   exception   to   the   favorite   and 


;:< 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


seductive  tone  exists  in  pieces  having  a 
soft  yellow-gray  body,  upon  which  the 
decoration  appears  painted  in  a  rich  cream- 
white  "slip."  It  must  also  be  added  that 
pieces  not  intended  to  be  decorated,  receive 
glazes  which  run  an  extended  gamut  of 
color  effects,  and  as  often  owe  their  charm 
to  "accidents"  of  firing,  as  to  premeditated 
and  carefulh'  prepared  results. 

The  shapes  of  the  vessels,  in  man}'  in- 
stances, equal  in  simplicity  the  decorative 
motifs  employed.  They  have  the  struct- 
ural quality  which  characterizes  a  large 
proportion  of  the  recent  products  of  indus- 
trial art.  They  are  determined,  first  of 
all,  by  requirements  of  solidity  and  ser- 
vice. They  are  afterward  softened  and 
refined  by  lines  and  modeling,  introduced 


as    necessary    and    willing    concessions    to 
beauty. 

As  an  example  of  this  class  of  shapes 
may  be  instanced  a  simple  jug  or  pitcher 
shown  in  a  brochure  lately  published  by 
the  Tulane  University  Press  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  pottery  school.  It  is  based 
upon  the  quasi  cylinder  type,  in  the  pro- 
portions indicated  as  correct  by  M.  Charles 
Blanc,  after  his  deep  study  of  Greek 
ceramics.  A  moulding  or  rim  is  added  at 
the  upper  edge  in  the  manner  of  certain  of 
the  simpler  classical  shapes.  This  is  done 
to  emphasize  the  form,  to  oppose  a  hori- 
zontal to  a  vertical  line,  to  cast  shadow — 
in  a  word,  to  parallel  in  miniature  the  func- 
tion of  the  frieze  in  architecture.  The 
handle  and  spout  ai-e  added  unobtrusively 
to  the  body,  both  combining  admirably 
with  the  modeling  of  the  rim.  In  this 
piece  the  decoration  enhances  the  effect  of 
the  shape.  Long  stems  of  the  snow-drop 
rise  from  the  base, — like  the  lotus  stalks 
from  the  floor  of  the  Egyptian  temple,— - 
telling  the  story  of  natural  growth,  and 
giving  no  suspicion  of  applied  ornament. 

Other  shapes  recall  Greek  and  Roman 
jars  and  vases;  the  form  of  the  models 
being  somewhat  obscured  and  simplified. 
Among  these  are  recognizable  museum 
types  of  wine  vessels,  the  tear-bottle  and 
the  olpe,  or  gladiator's  oil  bottle.  Oriental 
lines  do  not  seem  to  have  attracted  the  de- 
signers to  any  marked  degree,  and,  in  gen- 
eral, the  same  observations  can  be  made 
upon  the  shapes  as  upon  the  decorative 
motifs.  Both  are  taken  largely  as  found : 
the  shapes  as  they  are  necessitated  by 
structure,  or  as  they  occur  in  certain  pleas- 
ing models ;  the  motifs  of  ornament  as  they 
are  seen  in  Nature.     Neither  are  subjected 


71 


ART    INDUSTRY 


to  long  evolution  of  form  nuirle  by  repented 
ilruH  ing  and  the  accentuation  of  some  })iir- 
tion  or  feature,  according  to  the  system 
employed  in  the  design  of  certain  otiier 
American  ceramics,  notably  the  \  an  Hrig- 
gle  faience.  In  the  Newcoml)  potterv  that 
which  is  simple  and  familiar,  provided  it 
be  structurally  and  decoratively  good,  ap- 
})ears  to  hold  preference  over  that  which  is 
e(|ually  good,  but  rarer  and  more  complex. 
Indeed,  tlie  founders  of  th.e  courses  of  in- 
struction in  the  art  school,  the  designers 
and  the  chemists  of  the  pottery  appear  all 
to  have  shaped  their  policy  upon  the  prin- 
ciple of  "that  is  best  which  iieth  nearest." 

The  etForts  of  these  sectional  patriots  did 
not  remain  long  without  appreciation  and 
success.  In  1899.  only  three  years  after 
the  inception  of  their  enterprise,  two  among 
the  highest  American  authorities  acknowl- 
edged by  letter  the  excellent  results  of  the 
Southern  experiments  in  ceramics.  One  of 
these  critics,  ^Ir.  Edward  S.  Morse  of  the 
Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  wrote  to  the 
instructors  at  Newcomb  College: 

"I  mu.st  express  my  admiration  for  the 
very  beautiful  essays  of  your  oven.  It  al- 
ways seems  strange  to  me  that  in  a  nation 
of  seventy  millions  of  people  there  are  so 
few  potteries  worthy  of  recognition.  Now 
the  South  enters  the  lists,  and  in  your  work 
we  have  forms  and  glazes  which  must  ap- 
j)eal  to  the  critical  eye  even  of  the  old 
potters  of  Japan." 

The  second  authority,  ^Ir.  Arthur  W. 
Dow  of  the  Pratt  Institute,  Brooklyn,  gave 
equal  encouragement  and  praise.  Mis  en- 
dorsement showed  his  appreciation  of  the 
enterprise  from  several  equally  significant 
points  of  view.  His  words  were  so  perti- 
nent to  the  occasion  that  thej'  deserve  to  be 


(pioted  in  full.  He  wrote:  "All  who  have 
at  heart  the  development  of  art  industries, 
wiio  recognize  the  value  of  beauty  in  its  re- 
lation to  every-day  life,  will  be  interested 
ill  the  Newcomb  j)ottery.  It  is  a  serious 
effort  in  the  direction  of  uniting  art  and 
handicraft.  The  examples  which  I  have 
seen  were  beautiful  in  form  and  color,  sini- 
plc  in  design  and  of  cxciHent  worknian- 
shi[)." 

To  these  flattering  tributes,  called  forth 
i)y  merit,  the  public  added  its  patronage. 
The  Xcwcomb  pottery  promptly  found  a 
market  in  all  the  larger  American  cities, 
.ind  began  to  receive  attention  in  the  art 
centers  of  England  and  the  continent.  The 
latter  success  is  not  surprising,  since  re- 
cently the  attituile  of  entire  Europe  toward 
the  United  States  is  changing  in  all  that 
regards  intellectual  and  artistic  subjects. 
The  superciliousness  of  great  men  like 
Rtiskin.    who    included    "things    American, 


;j 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


French  and  cockney"  in  one  category,  is 
not  likely  to  be  repeated.  France — witli 
her  Art  Nouveati  school,  of  which  one 
branch  admits  no  design  save  that  founded 
upon  plant-structure  and  plant-forms — is 
especially  friendly  to  all  art  productions  in 
which  the  historic  styles  play  little  or  no 
part.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Belgium, 
that  laborious  little  country,  teeming  with 
aesthetic  and  industrial  ideas.  The  people 
of  the  North  German  empire  are  following 
the  initiative  of  their  Kaiser  in  the  study  of 


our  institutions  and  products  ;  while  Austria 
and  the  small  states  of  the  Danube  are,  in 
their  own  way,  striving  to  cause  art  to  seek 
her  inspiration  in  Nature  and  to  ally  her 
with  handicraft.  It  is  thus  evident  that 
all  experiments  like  the  Newcomb  pottery, 
having  an  educational  and  artistic  intent, 
conducted  in  the  modern  spirit,  and  wisely 
directed, will  not  oidy  find  appreciation  both 
at  home  and  abroad,  but  will  be  important 
as  examples  and  as  factors  in  the  develop- 
ment of  our  national  economic  resources. 
They  are  to  be  encouraged  as  sources  of 
public  education,  happiness  and  wealth. 

The  rapid  rise  of  the  Southern  industry 
as  here  recorded,  determined  the  directors 
of  Newcomb  College  to  provide  a  suitable 
building  in  which  to  house  their  artistic  in- 
dustry. This  purpose  was  accomplished  a 
year  since,  and  the  home  of  the  pottery  is 
now  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  important 
and  effective  "Arts  and  Crafts"  structures 
in  the  country.  It  is  an  excellent  repre- 
sentative of  the  Spanish-Colonial  type  of 
architecture  peculiar  to  New  Orleans ;  a 
structure  which,  eloquent  of  the  past, 
is  yet  perfectly  fitted  to  the  needs  of  the 
present.  Unlike  many  examples  of  historic 
styles  accenting  the  sky-line  of  our  streets, 
it  offers  no  details  which,  adapted  to  earlier 
forms  of  civic  life,  now  obtrude  themselves 
upon  us  in  the  character  of  relics ;  similar 
to  those  traces  of  long-disused  or  of  em- 
bryo organs  which  scientists  find  in  the 
human  bod^'  as  it  is  now  constituted.  The 
Spanish-Colonial  style,  as  typified  in  the 
house  seen  in  our  illustration,  is  as  fitting 
to  the  soil  of  Louisiana  as  the  mocking-bird 
to  her  atmosphere.  To  have  erected  this 
chaste  and  simple  building  is  a  special  honor 
for  the  art  school  of  Tulane  University. 


A  GOVERNMENT  LACE  SCHOOL 


Adapted  from  the  French 


A  N  interesting  and  significant  exliibi- 
/%  tion  of  laces  was  made  at  Paris 
±  ^^  in  1900,  under  the  auspices  of 
tlie  Austrian  Ministry  of  Public 
Instruction.  These  fabrics  were  conceded 
by  all  to  be  faultless  from  the  point  of 
\'iew  of  composition  and  execution.  But, 
although  the  execution  was  exquisite,  the 
principal  charm  of  the  work  lay  in  the 
originality  of  the  composition.  These 
laces,  bearing  no  historic  designs,  had  yet 
the  utmost  distinction.  They  were  in  no 
wise  copies  or  adaptations  of  familiar  pat- 
terns. Their  designers,  turning  to  Nature 
for  elements  of  decoration,  had  been  re- 
warded b}-  freshness  and  beauty  of  thought. 
The  results  attained  were  unique,  and,  fur- 
thermore,   skilfully     planned;    since    even 


those  who  were  hostile  to  modern  art,  ac- 
knowledged in  them  the  charm  of  harmo- 
nious line  and  of  graceful  arrangement. 

The  visitors  to  the  Exposition  were,  to 
some  degree,  careless  of  the  designers  and 
executants  of  these  laces,  who  are  as  inter- 
esting in  themselves  as  in  their  products, 
and  who  indicate  the  great  efforts  now 
making  in  Austria  for  the  restoration  and 
advancement  of  a  great  artistic  industry. 

In  the  capital  city,  Vienna,  instruction 
in  decorative  art  is  divided  into  two  de- 
partments :  the  artistic  and  the  technical. 
In  the  first  are  included  the  Museum  of  Art 
and  Industry,  and  tiie  School  of  Arts  and 
Crafts;  in  the  second  are  nuinbercil  tlie 
three  schools  of  lace-making,  embroidery 
and      weaving.      These      institutions     offer 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


thoroughly   practical  courses  and  are  des-  of   embroidery    and   lace-making   were   ex- 

tined  to  further  materially  the  interests  of  ceedingly     prosperous     in     Austria.      The 

the  Government  from  the  point  of  view  of  Empress  Elizabeth,  like  Queen  Victoria  in 

economics  as  well  as  of  art.  England,  did  much  to  encourage  the  na- 

Some  years  since,  various  local  industries  tive  craftswomen  and  to  create  a  market  for 


GOVERX.MKXT  LACE   SCHOOL 

their   products    by    forming    a    consumers'  cess„ntlv  repeated  in  -rent  qu/intitv,  grad- 

assocation  among  the  ladies  of  the  Aus-  unlly    wearied   the   pubHc,    and   patronage 

trian    court    and    aristocracy.      Rut    wliile  failed. 

the  technique  of  both  indu.stries  remained  To  arrest  tiiis  decadence  and  to  infuse 

practically    faultless,  the  same  designs   in-  new   blood    into   those    industries,   vigorous 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


measures  were  devised  and  executed  with 
signal  success.  To  render  still  more  per- 
fect the  excellent  technique  prevailing 
among  the  lace-makers  and  embroiderers, 
provincial  schools  of  both  industries  were 
founded,  in  order  to  train  skilful  workers 
who  should  possess  all  the  resources  of  their 
artistic  trade.  The  most  expert  among  the 
provincial  workers  thus  trained  were  sub- 
sequently sent  to  Vienna,  where  they  were 
placed  in  the  Government  Schools  before 
mentioned.  Then,  having  finished  their 
studies  and  become  thoroughly  skilled  ex- 
ecutants, they  returned  to  their  homes  to 
teach,  in  their  turn,  in  the  provincial 
schools.  From  these  workers  came  the 
Austrian  laces  so  much  admired  at  the  Paris 
Exposition. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  means  taken 
in  order  to  renew  the  designs,  and  the  deco- 
rative elements.  There  was  formed  at  the 
Museum  of  Industrial  Art  a  committee 
composed  of  excellent  artists  who  fur- 
nished, without  remuneration,  to  the  schools 


the  models  needed  for  the  work.  This 
measure  was  necessary,  since  the  purpose 
of  the  school  is  not  to  form  artists,  but 
rather  to  train  skilled  executants,  capable 
of  collaborating  usefully  and  intelligently 
with  artists.  Such  executants  are  too  often 
lacking,  and,  by  reason  of  their  absence, 
artists  too  frequently  see  their  best  compo- 
sitions completely  misapprehended  by  un- 
skilful and  unintelligent  workers. 

Such  in  essence  are  the  principles  of  in- 
struction throughout  the  lace-schools  of 
Austria.  The  practical  workings  of  the 
school  at  Vienna  are  no  less  interesting  to 
observe.  There,  a  single  artist  occupies 
the  principal  place  and  the  same  one  was 
the  chief  restorer  of  the  artistic  and  luci'a- 
tive  industry ;  since,  through  his  influence, 
copying  and  imitation  were  set  aside,  and 
the  evils  ignored  even  by  those  who  were 
interested  in  the  revival  of  lace-making  in 
Austria,  were  permanently  arrested. 

A  change  of  instructors  at  the  School  of 
Arts  and  Crafts,  the  election  of  M-  Hrd- 


GOVEUNMEXT  LACE   SCHOOL 

licka,  had  the  effect  of  changing  completely  of  grace  and  character,  and  thereby  effcct- 

the  artistic  direction  of  the  movement,  and  ing  a  revolution  in  an  art  circumscribed  by 

of  causing  the  real  revival  to  which  pre-  precedent.      Like  Rene  Lalique  in  the  gold- 

vious  reference  has  been  made.  smith's    and    jeweler's    art,    M.     Hrdlicka 


Breaking  resolutely  and  conijiletely  with 
Renascence  designs,  Professor  Hrdlicka 
made  a  return  to  Nature,  gaining  from  her 
inexhaustible  storehouse  new  elements  full 


sought  his  decorative  motifs  in  the  fields 
and  along  the  highways :  poppies  and  the 
light  umbels  of  weeds,  thistles,  wild  roses, 
nettles  and  convolvuli,  sometimes  even  con- 


Hl 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


ventionalized    floral    details,    single    or    in' 
combination. 

The  impulse  having  been  thus  given  by 
M.  Hrdlicka,  the  work  progressed  so  rapid- 
ly that  it  was  rewarded  by  a  grand  prix  at 
Paris  in  1900.  The  movement  itself  was 
assured  permanence  by  the  double  organi- 
zation of  the  schools,  and  the  committee  of 
design,  both  before  mentioned.  It  must 
be  added  that  the  students  of  the  Vienna 
lace-school  are  divided  into  two  classes, 
according  as  they  work  with  bobbins  or 
with  the  needle,  and  that  all  are  afforded 
instruction  in  design;  since  it  is  recognized 
that  such  knowledge  is  requisite  to  the 
proper  execution  of  a  piece  following, 
a  given  pattern.  As  in  every  other 
branch  of  industrial  art,  it  is  here  rec- 
ognized that  the  maker  should  be  an  intel- 
ligent co-laborer  with  the  designer;  that 
the  former  should  understand  the  composi- 
tion to  be  reproduced,  and  not  reproduce  it 
mechanically.  Toward  this  end  all  pro- 
visions and  rules  of  the  school  tend,  and 


further  to  assure  the  best  results,  no  prod- 
ucts of  the  students  are  thrown  upon  the 
general  market:  a  disposition  which  would 
have  the  effect  of  commercializing  them, 
and  of  occasioning  conditions  similar  to 
those  which  now  exist  in  Belgium,  where  the 
decadence  of  the  lace-industry  can  be  posi- 
tively traced  to  deterioration  in  design.  In 
the  villages  of  that  country,  isolated  parts 
of  patterns,  such  as  roses  and  foliage,  are 
made  by  separate  families  in  which  work  in 
these  details  is  hereditary.  Afterward, 
these  isolated  parts  are  taken  to  the  cities, 
like  Brussels,  Antwerp  and  Ghent,  where 
they  are  combined  by  designers  whose  ob- 
ject is  not  to  attain  artistic  effect,  but 
rather  to  increase,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
money  value  of  the  lace.  To  prevent  the 
rise  of  such  conditions,  discouraging  from 
the  economic,  as  well  as  from  the  artistic 
point  of  view,  the  Austrian  Government  has 
thus,  as  it  were,  assumed  control  of  the  two 
lucrative  artistic  mdustries  of  lace-making 
and  embroidery. 


■6i 


GOVERNMENT   LACE   SCHOOL 


The  products  of  these  schools  are  sucli 
distinctive  and  distinguished  specimens  of 
L'Art  Xouvcau  in  its  best  sense,  that  it  will 
be  interesting  to  study  a  series  of  designs 
first  presented  in  the  August  issue  of  the 
French  Magazine:  Art  et  Decoration. 

Our  first  illustration  is  a  design  for  a 
fan-cover.  It  is  a  pleasing,  well-balanced, 
rich,  but  not  overburdened  composition. 
Conventionalized  thistles  are  seen  in  combi- 
nation with  light  foliage  disposed  in  grace- 
ful   curves.      The    effect    is    one    of    finelv 


shown  are  of  shapes  necessarily  growing 
out  of  the  demands  of  the  floral  motifs 
employed,  and  are  therefore  structural  and 
good.  Both  are  arrangements  of  simple — 
one  might  better  saj-- — of  humble  flowers, 
and  the}'  so  add  one  more  proof  to  the  evi- 
dences which  to-da3-  surround  us  of  the 
growing  democracy  of  art,  not  considered 
as  to  its  wide  diffusion  among  the  people, 
but  as  to  the  means  and  symbols  which  it 
employs  in  expression. 

The  third  example  is  a  fan-cover,  excel- 


alternated  "lights  and  darks,"  of  open  and 
close  meshes.  The  work  is  a  happy  union 
of  the  artistic  with  the  technical. 

Then  follow  two  collars :  long  disused 
objects  of  feminine  adornment,  whose  res- 
toration must  be  welcomed  by  all  lovers  of 
art.  The  effect  of  beautiful  lace  as  a  fit- 
ting frame  for  a  woman's  head  was  appre- 
ciated by  the  great  Netherland  and  Vene- 
tian masters  of  portraiture,  and  it  is  com- 
ing again  to  be  recognized  by  those  inter- 
ested in  costume.     The  two  specimens  here 


lently  composed  of  rose  motifs.  The  ar- 
rangement of  the  four  parts  is  well  defined, 
without  crudeness,  and  very  successful. 
The  original  note  of  the  composition  is 
struck  by  the  treatment  of  the  stems  of  the 
rose-plant.  These  are  joined  together  by 
long  thorns  which  form  meshes,  and,  as  in 
another  instance  already  noted,  satisfy  at 
once  an  artistic  and  a  technical  necessity. 
They  unify  the  design  and  actually  make 
lace. 

Next  follows  a  piece  designed  for  table 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


decoration.  It  is  heavier  and  firmer  in 
texture,  as  is  fitting  for  an  article  of  ser- 
vice. It  is  ingenious  in  composition ;  tlie 
idea  of  the  designer  appearing  to  have  been 
to  vary  the  means  of  execution  placed  at 
his  disposal.  Differing  meshes  produce  a 
well-defined  sj'stem  of  shading,  a  fine  com- 
bination of  light  and  dark,  which  might 
almost  be  called  a  color-scheme.      They  at 


the  same  time  emphasize  an  effective  com- 
position. 

The  sixth  example  is  a  fan-cover  deco- 
rated with  motifs  drawn  from  a  plant  na- 
tive of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  the  Freesia. 
Tiie  floral  forms  are  here  skilfully  com- 
bined, but  the  composition  may  be  criticised 
as  heavy  in  general  effect,  as  well  as  in 
exterior  outline. 


H+ 


GOVERNMENT  LACE  SCHOOL 


Much  more  successful  is  the  subtile 
translation  into  lace  of  the  White  Nettle 
which  follows  the  Frcesia  design.  The 
happ}-  disposition  of  the  light  spirals  of 
grasses  breaks  the  stiffness  which  would 
result  from  the  bare  presentation  of  the 
principal  motif,  and  completes  a  composi- 
tion in  which  there  is  nothing  to  regret  but 
the  unaccented  line  of  the  lower  edge  with 
its  scarceh'  defined  points. 

The  handkerchief  next  in  order  has  both 
character  and  charm.  Two  plants  enter  into 
the  design :  the  leaves  of  the  buttercup  in  the 
inner  band,  and  the  modest  Herb  Robert  of 
the  woods  cxquisitel3-  treated  in  the  border. 

The  last  example,  shown  in  illustration, 
again  uses  a  humble  flower  as  means  of 
ornament.  It  is  the  rose-colored  convolvulus 
which  makes  bright  with  its  blossoms  many 
lonely  places  of  the  continent.  It  is  here 
used  most  artistically  with  its  foliage,  sug- 
gesting somewhat  the  treatment  of  the 
morning-glory   so   frequent   in   VArt   Xou- 


veau.  Furthermore,  in  common  with  sev- 
eral of  the  curlier  designs  illustrated,  it 
produces  a  fine  ornamental  motif,  and  it 
makes  lace. 

From  this  brief  study  of  an  Austrian 
lace-school  it  will  be  seen  how  much  pleasure 
and  profit  may  be  gained  by  a  country  and 
people  from  a  wise  development  of  an  art 
industry-.  It  is  an  example  to  be  studied 
to  be  paralleled  in  America  in  a  direction 
suited  to  the  conditions  of  our  national 
customs  and  life. 

As  an  expression  of  Austrian  art  these 
laces  will  appeal  to  that  division  of  the 
followers  of  VArt  Xouveau  who  have  de- 
clared for  floral  forms  as  against  linear 
composition.  Coming  as  they  do  from  the 
capital  city,  which  is  the  center  of  a  school 
of  ornament  based  upon  linear  combina- 
tions, they  show  a  versatility,  an  under- 
standing of  the  law^s  of  adaptation,  and 
above  all  a  love  of  nature  which  are  elo- 
quent of  originality  and  life. 


THE  j)iano  of  our  illustration,  in  the  simple  structural  style,  is  a  pleasing 
contrast  to  the  ordinary  case  which  is  unworthy  artistically  of  the  great 
possibilities  of  music  contained  within  it.  The  case  here  represented  is 
built  of  dark  "fumed"  oak,  plainly  paneled  and  grooved.  The  marquetcrie 
above  the  key-board  i.s  executed  in  colored  woods,  emphasized  by  delicate  trac- 
ings of  pe»ter  and  coj>per.  The  music-rack  is  a  repetition  in  miniature  of  the 
case  itself,  being  a  strong  opposition  of  the  vertical  to  tlie  horizontal.  As 
a  whole  the  instrument  is  to  be  praised  for  its  unobtrusiveness  which  will  not 
deflect  the  thoughts  of  the  listener  from  tlie  performer  and  the  performance. 


86 


A  SIMPLE  DINING-ROOM 


To  people  of  limited  resources 
the  architectural  and  decorative 
schemes  offered  bv  professionals, 
or  displaj'ed  in  current  publica- 
tions, seem  often  like  the  recipes  in  the 
cookerj-book  which  a  noted  character  of 
fiction,  who  knew  nothing  of  housewifery, 
consulted,  in  her  attempts  to  provide  pala- 
table meals  for  her  husband.  One  of  these 
recipes  began  :  "Take  a  salamander  !"  And 
the  reader  commented,  as  if  addressing  the 
author  of  the  book :  "Oh,  you  donkey  !  How 
am  I  to  catch  him?" 


Equally  impossible,  equally  beyond  the 
financial  resources  of  many  men  and  women 
who  desire  tasteful  surroundings,  are  those 
plans  or  schemes  which  require  for  their 
foundation  a  new  site,  an  unfinished  ulte- 
rior, a  certain  disposition  of  doors  and  win- 
dows, or  any  other  conditions  which  may 
not  be  controlled  save  by  persons  of  wealth. 

Great  numbers  of  professional  and  em- 
ployed people — individuals  possessed  of 
education  and  culture — residing  in  cities  or 
large  towns,  where  they  are  restricted  to 
narrow    quarters,    demand,    for   their    con- 


8S 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


tentmeiit  and  pleasure,  interiors  which  sliall, 
to  some  degree,  respond  to  WilHam  Morris's 
conception  of  a  place  in  which  to  live  and 
work. 

Therefore,  to  meet  the  requirements  of 
this  large  class,  who  can  not  build  their 
houses  according  to  their  wishes,  or  even 
materially  alter  their  dwelling-places.  The 
Craftsman  presents  as  the  first  of  a  series 
of  interiors,  a  dining  room  which  may  be 
arranged,  at  a  slight  expense,  in  any  ordi- 
nary private  or  apartment  house. 


As  in  every  room,  the  first  essential  is 
here  to  provide  a  suitable  background  for 
the  movable  objects.  This  is  obtained  by 
covering  the  walls  with  an  imported  canvas 
of  artistic  weave  and  agreeable  tone.  The 
ceiling  is  covered  with  canvas,  painted,  in 
order  to  produce  the  effect  of  rough  plaster, 
and  to  this  are  applied,  at  even  distances, 
boards  of  "fumed  oak"  corresponding  in 
finish  with  the  furniture  to  be  introduced. 
A  canvas  frieze,  fitted  about  the  top-casings 
of  the  doors  and  windows,  is  then  prepared ; 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


the  floor  is  stained  in  yellow-green,  and  the 
back-ground  is  complete. 

The  canvas  frieze,  like  the  nursery  wall- 
coverings described  in  a  preceding  article, 
is  decorated  with  North  American  Indian 
motifs,  stenciled  in  dyes.  These  motifs  are 
derived  from  the  basketry  of  the  Pueblo 
tribes,  and  may  be  varied  according  to  indi- 
vidual taste ;  but  for  the  corner  ornaments 
no  design  is  more  satisfactory  than  the 
Swastika,  or  sign  of  life,  variants  of  which 
are  given  in  our  illustrations.  The  win- 
dows are  hung  with  a  textile  similar  to  that 
of  the  wall-covering  in  weave  and  tone,  but 
lighter  in  weight  and  finer  in  quality.  The 
rug  has  a  brown  center  sufficiently  lighter 
in  shade  to  accentuate  the  furniture  of 
"fumed"  oak,  while  its  border  shows  a  pre- 
dominance of  blue,  with  occasional  notes  of 
green  and  red. 

The  movable  furnishings,  according  to 
the  William  Morris  principle,  admit  no 
piece  which  does  not  literally  earn  its  liv- 
ing: that  is,  render  some  actual  service  to 
the  frequenters  of  the  room.  The  decora- 
tive value  of  each  of  the  few  pieces  is  thus 
preserved,  and  free  space  made  to  become 
the  ally  of  art.  Other  important  advan- 
tages gained  by  this  simplicity  and  spare- 


ness,  are  the  comfort  of  the  guests  and  the 
convenience  of  the  servant,  who,  if  crowded 
among  buffets,  china-cabinets,  chairs,  and 
tables,  requires  the  dexterity  of  a  gypsy  in 
the  egg-dance  to  avoid  breakage  and  dis- 
aster. Care  has  also  been  taken  properly 
to  adjust  the  movable  furnishings  to  the 
size  of  the  room :  as  apparent  space  may  be 
rapidly  diminished  by  the  introduction  of 
pieces  too  large  and  too  massive. 

With  this  effect  to  be  avoided,  the  buffet 
has  been  so  constructed  as  to  present  no 
solid  front  of  wood ;  the  plate-rack  has  been 
separated  from  its  old  companion,  the  dres- 
ser, and  is  found  suspended  by  a  metal 
chain  from  the  walls ;  the  china  cabinet  by 
the  wide  concave  curve  of  its  base,  adds  to 
the  general  appearance  of  lightness,  as  do 
also  the  chairs  with  their  open  backs  and 
their  rush  seats. 

Altogether,  this  modest  interior  would 
seem  to  be  a  step  toward  the  substitution  of 
the  luxury  of  taste  for  the  luxury  of  cost; 
an  end  toward  which  every  Am.erican  archi- 
tect, decorator,  and  owner  of  a  home  should 
work,  as  an  effort  against  the  materialism 
which  threatens  our  rapidly  developing  and 
prosperous  countr}-. 


92 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 
THREE    "CRAFTSMAN   CANVAS"    PILLOWS 


CANVAS  fabrics  of  artistic  weaves  and  in  an 
extended  gamut  of  color  have  recently  been 
introduced   from  abroad  into  The  Crafts- 
man Workshops.     They  have  the  soft  dull 
colors  and  shades  found  in  the  old  I<"rench  tapes- 


greater  strength  and  durabilitj',  and  are  not  liable 
to  crumple  and  crack,  as  their  qualities  of  texture 
forbid  such  evidences  of  wear. 

As  their  name  implies,  they  are  particularly 
adapted  to  receive  embroidery  in  cross-stitch,  done 
in  linen  flosses  which  agree  with  the  substance  of 
their  own  threads,  better  than  embroidery  silks 
could  do,  with  their  gloss  raising  the  color- 
note. 

The  pillows  shown  in  the  accompanying  illustra- 
tions are  made  respectively  of  pomegranate,  a  blue- 
green,  and  a  brown  fabric.  They  are  embroidered 
with  North  American  Indian  motifs  derived,  as  in 
the  case  of  the  nursery  wall-hangings  also  illus- 


tries:  the  pomegranates,  the  blue-greens,  the  "king's 
yellow,"  the  foliage  browns;  thus  constituting  a  full 
palette  from  wliich  the  artist  in  needlework  may 


choose,  as  a  painter  selects  from  his  color-tubes. 
They  are  more  than  substitutes  for  silk  fabrics  in 
many    houseliold    uses,    since    they    possess    much 


trated  in  the  present  number  of  The  Craftsman, 
from  the  l)asketry  and  pottery  of  the  Pueblo 
trilics. 

The  pillow  showing  the  pine-tree  design  has  the 
mountain-symbol  worked  in  red,  with  the  trees  in 
yellow-green;  the  embroidery  being  very  effective 
against  the  "old  blue"  background. 

The  deer  motif  is  worked  upon  a  moss  green 
background:  the  deer  and  the  Indian's  body  in 
brown;  the  sun's  disc,  bow,  arrow,  and  Indian's 
head  in  red,  and  the  sun's  rays  and  mountain-line 
in  yellow. 

The  bear  motif  appears  on  a  pomegranate 
ground,  with  the  animal  and  outlining  of  the 
quadrilateral  figures  in  dark  purplish  blue,  and 
the  bear  tiacks  in  clav-brown. 


NURSER^'  WALL  CO\  ERINGS 


IN    INDIAN    DESIGNS 


THE  accompanving  illustrations  for 
nursery    wall-coverings    are    pre- 
sented b}'  The  Craftsman  witli  an 
educational  as  well  as  an  artistic 
purpose.     They    are    based    upon    North 
American   Indian   decorative  motifs,   which 
offer  rich  opportunities  in  both  symbolism 
and  ornament.      These  motifs,  known  and 
valued  by  ethnologists,  have  been  neglected 
bj-    artists.     But   thej'    are   worthy    to    be 
ranked   with   the   Briton   and 
Celtic  systems,  which  are  now 
in  active,  enthusiastic  revival 
in   England,    furthered   alike 
by  the  guilds  and  by  individ- 
ual    artists     and     craftsmen. 
'The  pages  of  Racinet  and  of 
Owen  Jones  are  brilliant  with 
the  ornament  of  the  barbarous 
Gaul  and  Teuton.    They  show 
the  textiles  and  the  elaborate- 
ly   incised    war-clubs    of    the 
savages    of    Oceanica ;    while 
the  basketr}-  and  pottery  of 
the  red  races  of  America  re- 
ceive     adequate      illustration 
only    in    the    reports    of    the 
Government  Bureau  of  Eth- 
nology, and  are  therefore  lit- 
tle known  save  to  the  learned 
few.     Pictographs  are  one  of 
the    most    fruitful    primary 
sources  of  historic  knowledge, 
and  those  originating  among 
the  sierras  and  on  tiie  mesas  of      ^^^^  .-i.nieiii» 


the  New  World,  arc  as  eloquent  as  those 
which  were  composed  In  the  Nile  vallc}^,  even 
if  they  reveal  the  spirit  of  a  far  less  gifted 
race.  The  fact  remains  that  they  are  re- 
plete with  nature-worship.  They  are  tlie 
external  signs  of  occult  forces  and  things, 
which  attract  for  the  very  reason  that  they 
are  secret.  They  belong  to  our  own  coun- 
try, and  are  a  part  of  our  historical  in- 
heritance;  so   that   the   same   spirit    which 


9.> 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


prompts  us  to  search  genea- 
logical records,  and  to  at- 
tempt to  locate  the  habitat 
from  which  our  ancestors 
migrated,  should  inspire  us 
with  interest  and  love  for 
American  antiquities. 

It  is  said  by  scientists  that 
an  affinity  for  plant  forms 
(pliyllomorplis)  in  ornament 
is  tlie  mark  of  a  superior 
race;  tliat  animal-forms 
(zoomorphs),  wlien,  in  tlie 
ornament  of  a  people,  they  s(j 
predominate  over  plant-forms 
as  almost  to  exclude  tliem 
from  the  system,  plainly 
reveal  the  limited  mental  ca- 
pacity of  their  producers. 
The  first  statement  is  sup- 
ported by  the  great  lotus  de- 
sign of  the  Egyptians  and 
the  honeysuckle  pattern  of 
the  Greeks.  The  second  state- 
ment is  an  argument  against  the  capabili- 
ties of  civilization  possessed  by  our  pre- 
historic forest  people.  But  even  if  it  be 
true,  the  study  of  Indian  pictographs  need 
be  no  less  delightful  for  designers  and  ama- 
teurs, or  less  valual)le  to  seekers  after  his- 
torical knowledge.  This  study,  if  rightly 
presented  to  the  child,  will  appeal  to  him 
through  his  imagination,  and  develop  him 
without  awakening  in  him  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  is  doing  work.  If  he  be  led 
from  the  plainer,  more  pictorial  sj'mbols, 
such  as  are  offered  in  our  illustrations,  up 
to  the  highly  conventionalized  representa- 
tions of  natural  objects  found  in  both  the 
basketry  and  pottery  of  the  Indians,  and 
shown    to    him    in    the    decoration    of    the 


thimtltT  1 


things  of  his  daily  use,  he  will  learn  un- 
consciously to  seek  the  meaning  of  more 
important  things,  and  to  make  tlie  most  of 
his  powers  of  observation.  He  will  also 
receive  preparation  for  the  historical  and 
literary  studies  which  await  him.  Caesar 
among  the  Gauls  will  be  for  him  like  the 
white  man  among  the  Indians,  and  the 
grind  of  Latin  construction  be  lessened  by 
the  impetus  of  the  tale  of  adventure.  The 
beginnings  of  the  stories  of  races  and  na- 
tions will  not  be  dry  and  hateful  to  him,  for 
the  memories  of  his  earlier  childhood  will 
give  him  a  means  of  comparison  residing  in 
all  that  he  learned,  by  legend  and  bright- 
colored  symbol,  of  the  primitive  people  of 
his  own  country. 


96 


WALL    COVERINGS 


What  the  colored  map  and  the  illustrated 
chart  are  to  the  school-room,  the  wall-cover- 
ings of  the  nursery  may  become  to  the 
home.  They  may  be  made  an  effective 
means  of  attracting  the  restless  fancy  of 
the  child  and  of  opening  to  him  vistas  of 
thouglit  which  will  educate  his  most  valu- 
able faculties. 

Tlie  designs  here  presented  are  intended 
to  be  stenciled  with  dyes,  upon  a  canvas- 
like fabric.  They  are  adapted  from  the 
pictographs  of  the  Hopi  Indians  of  North- 
ern Arizona,  as  well  as  from  those  of  cer- 
tain Californian  tribes.  In  some  instances, 
as  in  the  case  of  tlie  men  and  the  deer,  the 
forms  have  been  slightly  modeled,  lest 
their  utter  lack  of  suggestive- 
ness  and  realism  might  make 
them  uninteresting  to  the 
child. 

Tlie  first  design,  named 
"The  Elements,"  is  virtually 
a  direct  transcript  from  the 
altar  of  the  Antelope  Frater- 
nitj-,  at  Shipauluvi,  a  village 
of  the  Hopi  Indians,  in  Ari- 
zona, at  which  the  harvest 
festival,  involving  the  snake- 
dance,  is  celebrated.  Three 
units  of  design, — at  least,  one 
whole  and  two  portions — are 
seen  in  the  illustration.  The 
semi-circles  attached  to  the 
horizontal  bands  are  the  swol- 
len rain-clouds,  from  which 
issues  the  lightning  symbol. 
The  semi-circular  form  of 
cloud  is  peculiar  to  the  Ilopi, 
who  substituted  it,  in  the  pic- 
tographs of  the  region,  for 
the  earlier  terraced  form  often 


seen  in  basketr^'.  It  may  be  noted  in 
passing  that  the  use  of  symbols  to  tvi)ifv 
the  elements  is  not  confined  to  strictly  prim- 
itive forms  of  art,  since  the  same  use  occurs 
in  the  much-admired  work  of  the  Japanese 
artists  who  flourished  from  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  to  the  middle  of  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

The  color-scheme  chosen  for  the  design 
of  "The  Elements"  is  wrought  upon  a  dull 
red  background.  The  sun  appears  in 
Indian  yellow,  the  rain  (vertical  lines)  in 
gray  green,  tiie  earth  and  mountains  (hori- 
zontal bands  and  terraces)  in  warm  brown, 
the  thunder  bolts  in  dull  blue. 

The  second  illustration  is  one  of  a  highlv 


y; 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


interesting  class  of  designs 
found  in  all  spontaneous, 
racial  art.  It  belongs  to  the 
same  class  as  the  alligator 
design  in  Oriental  rugs,  which 
has  been  subjected  to  such 
long  evolution  that,  in  many 
cases,  onlj'  a  herring-bone 
pattern  and  a  dot  remain  to 
indicate  the  notched  profile 
and  the  scales  of  the  beast. 
The  Thunder-Bird,  as  repre- 
sented in  our  illustration,  has 
not  entirely  lost  its  avian 
form,  as  is  true  of  many 
birds,  like  the  Man-Eagle, 
found  in  the  art  of  the  Hopis 
and  other  Indian  tribes, 
where  sweeping  curves  serve 
as  the  bare  symbol  of  the 
bird-shape:  all  features  and 
organs  of  the  species  having 
been  lost  in  the  evolutionary 
process.  The  legend  of  the 
Thunder-Bird,    found    as    far 


JE^S£ 


J-^^^=; 


The  Korest 

North    as 

among  the  Esquimaux,  would  appear  to  be 
that  of  a  dreaded  monster  which  swoops 
without  warning  from  the  sky  to  carry 
away  the  whale,  the  largest  of  the  sea-born 
creatures. 

The  color-scheme  of  the  design  shows  a 
gray-blue  background,  with  the  Bird  in 
indigo  blue  (darker  tone)  and  warm  brown 
(lighter  tone)  ;  while  thr  thunder-bolts  and 
balance  of  the  forms  appear  in  gray-green. 

The  third  illustration,  "The  Storm,"  is 
a  variant  and  combination  of  the  two  pre- 
ceding designs.  It  therefore  requires  no 
explanation  as  a  pictograph.  The  back- 
ground is  here  a  straw-colored  fabric, 
against  which  the  indigo  blue  of  the  dark- 
98 


est  clouds  and  the  thunder-bolts  show  in 
strong  contrast.  The  vertical  lines  of  the 
rain  are  done  in  gray-green ;  the  Thunder- 
Bird  and  the  medium  clouds  in  peacock 
blue. 

"The  Forest"  is  adapted  from  a  picto- 
graph found  in  the  basketry  of  a  Califor- 
nian  tribe.  In  this,  the  principal  motif  rep- 
resents a  bush  or  shrubbery ;  while  the  her- 
ring-bone pattern  used  to  divide  the  units 
of  design  is,  in  the  lower  unit,  a  cloud- 
symbol,  while,  in  the  upper,  it  typifies  the 
earth,  or  a  hill.  The  design  is  thrown 
upon  a  warm  green  background,  with  the 
shrubs  in  golden  brown  and  the  men  in 
dull  red. 

"The  Happy  Hunting  Ground"  is  again 


WALL    COA'KIUXGS 


a  transcript  from  the  basketry  of  the  Cal- 

ifornian  Indians ;  the  second  and  fourth 
bands  (counting  from  the  base  of  the  de- 
sign) being  respectively  a  mountain  and  a 
cloud  sj'mbol,  while  the  third  band  is  the 
pictograph  of  a  flight  of  wild  geese,  occur- 
ring in  the  art  of  the  Sacramento  Valley. 

The  color-scheme  is  wrought  upon  a 
brown  back-ground ;  with  the  mountains 
and  clouds  in  red ;  the  trees  on  the  moun- 
tains, the  men  and  the  deer  in  blue ;  and  the 
flying  geese  in  peacock  blue. 

This  last  illustration  is,  perhaps,  the 
most    pleasing    and    skilful    of   the    series, 


since  it  unites  a  strong  decorative  efl'ect 
with  an  equally  strong  imaginative  idea. 
The  Indian  is  here  pictured  in  the  midst  of 
all  that  he  loves  best :  he  has  the  objects  of 
his  greatest  pleasure  near  him,  while  about 
him  lies  infinite  space. 

These  tiesigns,  which  may  he  executed  at 
little  co.st,  if  hung  upon  our  nursery-walls, 
might  show  the  Indian  to  our  children  in  a 
new  and  better  light:  no  longer  as  the 
scalper  of  men  and  the  murderer  of  chil- 
dren, but  as  a  being  of  simple  life,  possess- 
ing crafts,  arts,  a  system  of  morals  and  a 
religious  faith  not  to  be  despised. 


TLe  tiaptjy  liuuliui;  t£ruuiid& 


eg 


CHIPS  FROM  THE  CRAFTSMAN 
WORKSHOP 


NOTHING   is  so   conducive   to   thought — it 
were  better  to  say  meditation — as  worliing 
with  tlie  hands.     This  union  is  the  "inte- 
gral education"  of  Kropotkin.     It  was  the 
unfailing  source  of  Hans  Sach's  homely  philosophy 
which  streamed  from  his  brain,  as  he  cobbled  and 
sang  in  the  old  craft-city  of  Nuremberg. 

In  the  society  of  to-day — that  is,  before  tlie 
realization  of  the  great  Russian's  ideal,  and  long 
after  the  days  when  labor  was  accepted  as  a  dig- 
nified, essential  part  of  civic  life — it  is  indeed 
difficult  to  gain  a  point  of  view,  a  coign  of  vantage, 
from  which  rightly  to  see  and  to  judge  the  human 
pageant  as  it  defiles  along  the  highways  of  the 
world. 

It  is  difficult,  l)ut  not  impossible  to  attain  tliis 
point  of  view.  The  attainment  lies  open  to  all, 
through  a  reversion  to  the  simple  life.  And, 
strange  to  say,  it  is  a  Parisian  who  has  indicated 
the  path.  We  have  used  the  word  reversion,  but  it 
is  no  backward  way  tliat  leads  to  the  simple  life. 
It  has  often  been  trodden  before,  but  always  by 
the  pure,  the  exalted  of  the  earth,  who  have  re- 
moved the  stones,  thrust  aside  the  brambles,  and 
jirepared  an  easier  passage  for  those  who  should 
follow  them. 

The  lovers  of  simplicity  are  then  the  best  fitted 
of  all  men  to  understand,  to  estimate  and  to  ad- 
vance human  endeavor.  But  who  are  these  persons 
so  distinguished,  and  where  may  they  be  found?  It 
must  be  said  tliat  they  differ  with  the  times;  that 
they  partake  of  their  period  sufficiently  to  feel  its 
inspirations  acutely  and  to  know  its  dangers,  while 
remaining  too  loyal  to  humanity  and  themselves  to 
succumb  to  its  dangers. 

They  were  the  lovers  of  simplicity  of  whom  it 
was  said  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount:  "Blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart;  for  they  shall  see  God."  These 
were  they  whose  vision  was  not  distracted  by  n 
complexity  of  objects,  nor  obscured  liy  the  glitter 


of  riches.  In  the  Roman  times,  they  were  the 
sages  and  students  who  deserted  tlie  luxury  and 
movement  of  the  great  capital,  that  they  might  sit 
at  the  imboughten  feast  of  the  faniihouse,  or  who 
pursued  calmly,  in  the  midst  of  degenerate  com- 
panions, those  refining  studies  of  language  and 
literature  which  "nourish  youth,  delight  old  age, 
adorn  prosperity,  and  offer  consolation  in  times 
of  adversity."  At  that  turning  point  of  the  world's 
history,  called  the  thirteenth  century,  the  lovers  of 
simplicity  were  those  who,  with  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi,  put  on  the  hair-cloth  shirt  and  girded 
themselves  with  the  knotted  rope;  taking  mean- 
while the  vows  of  poverty,  chastity  and  obedience. 
Later,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  these  same  lovers  of 
simplicity  were  the  guildsmen  who  appreliended 
the  full  meaning  of  citizen-liberty  and  who  allied 
art  to  labor  and  both  to  life:  making  a  threefold 
unity  whose  destruction  was  one  of  the  most  de- 
l)loral)le  results  of  the  negative  Renascence.  To- 
day again,  the  lovers  of  simplicity  have  changed 
their  outward  aspect.  But  they  are  the  same  in 
heart  and  soul.  They  rule  their  wants  and  feel 
no  dominant  passion.  If  they  are  rich  and  con- 
tent, it  is  because  they  are  superior  to  their  sur- 
roundings, and  not  because  they  have  wealth.  If 
they  are  poor,  they  also  rule  their  wants:  never 
passing  the  limits  of  honesty,  and  looking  upon 
the  possession  of  riches  as  an  accident,  not  as  an 
essential.  They  are  those  whose  ideals  are  clearly 
defined  and  fixed  in  place;  who  stand  "four-square 
to  the  blows  of  Fortune:"  the  lords  of  their  own 
hands  and  the  masters  of  their  own  fate.  They  are 
found  in  all  ranks  and  among  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men.  They  are  not  of  necessity  poor,  and, 
if  rich,  there  is  no  "eye  of  the  needle"  through 
which  they  must  pass  to  gain  the  heaven  of  the 
simple  life.  Simplicity  does  not  belong  to  certain 
classes  of  society.  It  is  a  spirit  possessed  by  cer- 
tain chosen  individuals. 

To  define  the  modern  lover  of  simplicity  we 
can  not  do  better  than  turn  to  the  thoughts  of 
Charles  Wagner,  who  says:     "People  are  tempted 


100 


BOOK  REVIEWS 


to  believe  that  simplicity  presents  certain  external 
characteristics  by  which  it  may  be  recognized  and 
in  which  it  really  consists.  Simplicity  and  lowly 
station,  plain  dress,  a  modest  dwelling,  slender 
means,  poverty — these  things  seem  to  go  togeth- 
er. Xevertheless,  tliis  is  not  the  case.  Just 
now  I  passed  three  men  in  the  street:  the  first  in 
his  carriage;  the  other  on  foot,  and  one  of  them 
shoeless.  The  shoeless  man  does  not  necessarily 
lead  the  least  complex  life  of  the  three.  It  may  be, 
indeed,  that  he  who  rides  in  his  carriage  is  sincere 
and  unaffected,  in  spite  of  his  position,  and  is  not 
at  all  the  slave  of  his  wealth;  it  may  be  also  that 
the  pedestrian  in  shoes  neither  envies  him  wlio 
rides  nor  despises  him  who  goes  unshod,  and  lastly 
it  is  possible  that  under  his  rags,  his  feet  in  the 
dust,  the  third  man  has  a  hatred  of  simplicity,  of 
labor,  of  sobriety,  and  that  he  dreams  only  of 
idleness  and  pleasure." 

From  this  definition  so  logically  given,  so  force- 
fully illustrated,  we  gain  the  conviction  that  to 
lead  the  simple  life  is  but  to  be  master  of  one's 
own  desires;  to  recognize  what  is  best  for  one's 
own  well-being,  culture  and  progress;  to  set  up 
before  one's  vision  honest  standards  and  high  ideals, 
and  to  remain  loyal  to  them. 

As  a  deduction  from  the  same  definition  we  gain 


a  description  of  the  man  of  luxury.  Me  is  first 
of  all  a  slave,  bound  by  a  chain  of  circumstance 
which  checks  and  annoys  him  at  every  step.  His 
vision  is  clouded  and  his  gaze  uncertain,  since  his 
standards  and  ideals  are  changing,  at  every  mo- 
ment, like  marsh-fires  burning  above  the  decay  and 
corruption  from  which  they  arc  generated.  If 
poor,  he  believes  that  happiness  resides  in  material 
prosperity  alone.  If  he  advance  to  riches,  he  so 
multiplies  his  wants  that  his  means  are  as  inade- 
((uate  to  supply  them  as  they  were  in  his  former 
condition  of  life.  If  rich  by  birth  and  elevated  in 
station,  he  mistakes  the  transient  for  the  perma- 
nent, indulging  himself  for  the  moment  and  be- 
yond bounds,  without  thought  for  the  day  after, 
when  passion  shall  have  cooled  into  satiety  and  the 
fertile  superfluity  whose  fruits  he  grasped  at, 
tasted,  and  threw  away,  shall  bear  for  him  only 
apples  of  Sodom. 

The  simple  life  is  therefore  the  perfect  synonym 
of  eivilization,  and  for  one  of  the  greatest  prohpets 
of  our  race  and  time,  William  Morris,  civilization 
meant:  "peace  and  order  and  freedom,  the  attain- 
ment of  the  good  life  which  these  things  breed; 
not  more  stuffed  chairs  and  more  cushions,  and 
more  carpets  and  gas,  and  more  dainty  meat  and 
drink — and  therewithal  more  and  sharper  differ- 
ences between  class  and  class." 


BOOK  REVIEWS 


A  T  the  present  time,  when  public  interest  is  so 
/_%  great  in  all  that  attaches  to  the  name  of 
L  .^  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  the  recently  is- 
sued volume  upon  the  work  and  life  of  his 
student  and  professional  partner,  Charles  Kliot,  has 
deep  significance,  other  than  that  which  centers  in 
the  principal  subject  of  its  pages.  The  book  by  its 
sub-title  explains  itself  more  clearly  than  could  be 
done  by  any  long  review.  Following  the  name  of 
the  young  man  whom  it  commemorates,  there  ap- 
pear, somewhat  after  the  manner  of  an  inscription, 
these  exquisitely  combined  words:  "A  lover  of 
Nature  and  of  his  kind,  who  trained  himself  for  a 
new  profession,  practised  it  happily,  and  through 
it  wrought  much  good."  Here  the  touch  of  Presi- 
dent Eliot  of  Harvard,  father  of  the  one  commem- 
orated, may  be  recognized;  for  it  is  the  same  as 


that  which  gave  a  power  and  dignity  rivaling  the 
Greek  of  SImonides  to  the  ascription  of  the  Sol- 
diers' Monument  on  Boston  Common. 

The  record  of  the  laborious  young  life  is  made 
largely  by  means  of  extracts  from  a  diarj-,  which 
are  bound  togetlier  by  threads  of  biography.  The 
opening  paragraph  is  quaint  enough  to  belong  to 
an  old  New  England  chronicle,  containing  state- 
ments couched  in  unusual  terms,  like  the  following: 
"Iliis  father  came  from  a  line  of  Boston  Eliots 
who,  for  several  generations,  had  been  serviceable 
and  influential  people,  and  on  the  maternal  side 
from  a  line  of  I^j-mans  who  had  been  useful  and 
successful   in   life." 

Midway  in  the  book  occurs  n  valuable  outline  of 
the  histor)'  of  I.and.scape  Gardening,  together  with 
a  bibliography  of  the  same,  both  prepared  by  Mr. 


101 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Kliot  for  the  publication,  "Garden  and  Forest." 
These  are  of  unmistaliable  value  to-day,  when  ques- 
tions as  to  the  means  of  preserving  and  heightening 
the  beauties  of  Nature  are  agitated  in  all  sections 
of  our  extensive  coinitry. 

There  are  other  chapters  of  special  interest,  such 
as  those  descriptive  of  the  architect's  study  of 
landscape  gardening,  pursued  in  European  coun- 
tries; not  only  in  the  usually  visited  capitals,  but 
along  the  Riviera,  in  the  south  of  England,  in 
Denmark,  Sweden  and  Russia.  Later,  there  is 
much  valuable  information  to  be  gained  from  the 
discussion  of  the  Charles  River  Improvement 
scheme,  the  artistic  treatment  of  Revere  Beach,  and 
of  the  landscape  forestry  in  the  Metropolitan 
(Boston)   Reservation. 

Altogether  the  book  is  an  important  document  in 
the  history  of  American  art.  [Charles  Eliot: 
Houghton,  MifHin  &  Company,  1903.  Size,  6x9; 
illustrated  with  plates  and  maps;  760  pages;  price 
$3..50. 

The  Old  China  Book  is  a  thick  volume  com- 
piled with  great  labor,  treating  of  Staffordshire, 
Wedgewood,  Lustre,  and  other  English  Pottery  and 
Porcelain.  It  is  an  excellent  text-book  for  those 
who  would  enjoy  intelligently  such  collections  as 
those  of  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  or  of 
the  Metroi>olitan  Museum,  New  York.  Mingled 
with  the  detailed  accounts  of  the  marks  of  identity 
by  which  the  various  wares  may  be  recognized,  are 
many  anecdotes  such  as  the  one  connected  with 
"Great  Aunt  Thankful's  Jug,"  which  are  peculiarly 
interesting  to  the  reader  of  New  England  blood. 
Characteristic  also  is  the  story  of  the  housewife 
who  would  not  part  with  a  lustre  mug  simply  be- 
cause "molasses  had  always  been  kept  in  it."  The 
illustrations  of  the  Wedgewood  Jasper  are  especial- 
ly well  chosen,  as  are  also  those  of  the  Spode, 
Lowestoft  and  old  Chelsea  wares.  The  Stafford- 
shire potteries  too  receive  extended  notice  as  the 
source  of  the  widely  known  and  interesting  series 
in  blue  and  white  representing  the  principal  events 
of  the  Revolution  and  the  noted  buildings  of  the 
older  American  cities.  [The  Old  China  Book  by 
N.  Hudson  Moore.  New  York:  Frederick  A. 
Stokes  Company.  Size  5y„x8;  pages  300;  pro- 
fusely illustrated;  price  $2.00  net. 

Ho^rE  Arts  and  Crafts,  edited  and  compiled  by 
Montague  Marks.  This  is  a  manual,  profusely 
illustrated,   containing  minutely   detailed   descrip- 


tions of  processes  in  modeling  in  clay,  wax  and 
gesso;  in  wood-carving,  pyrogravure  and  metal- 
work.  The  descriptions  are  followed  by  short  treat- 
ises upon  applied  design  under  the  sub-divisions  of 
natural  and  conventional  ornament,  the  construc- 
tion of  ornament,  wall-paper,  textile  and  tile  de- 
signing, and  the  preparation  of  working  designs. 
Its  scheme  and  table  of  contents  are  most  attrac- 
tive. Its  value  must  be  determined  by  practical 
use.  But  the  name  of  its  publishers  should  be  a 
guarantee  of  tried  worth.  [Philadelphia  &  London. 
J.  B.  Lippincott  Company.  Size  714XIO;  pages  H9; 
price  .$1.50  net. 

Jay  Chambers,  His  Book-Plates,  by  Wilbur 
Macey  Stone.  This  is  an  attractive  little  book, 
printed  on  dark  cream  paper  against  which  the 
black  of  the  drawings  is  effectively  relieved.  The 
designs,  all  the  work  of  a  student  of  Howard  Pyle, 
show  the  influence  of  the  supreme  old  master,  Al- 
brecht  Diirer,  with  here  and  there  a  trace  of  the 
Colonial  style,  or  a  wayward  touch  of  L'Art  Nou- 
veau.  Among  the  most  pleasing  of  the  plates  may 
be  mentioned  the  one  bearing  the  name  of  T.  Henry 
Norton,  which  seems  like  a  sketch  of  Puvis  de 
Chavannes  laid  over  another  by  some  artist  of  the 
Barbizon  School.  [Published  for  The  iriptypch 
by  Randolph  R.  Beam,  New  York,  1902.  Size  5x8; 
price  $1.25. 

MEMORABLE  IN  THE  SEPTEMBER 
MAGAZINES 

THE   Brookline   (Mass.)    Chronicle  of   Sep- 
tember 5,  contained  a  remarkable  editorial 
upon    Frederick    Law    Olmstead,    recently 
deceased,  which  is  of  deep  significance,  in 
these  days  when  civic  improvement  and  municipal 
art  are  questions  rivaling  in  public  interest  politi- 
cal issues  and  financial  problems. 

Of  Mr.  Olmsted's  influence  the  writer  says:  "On 
nearly  every  Dublic  park  of  importance  in  the 
United  States,  his  individuality  impressed  itself, 
either   directly  or  through  the  imitation  of  some 

disciple His    genius    was    like    an    unseen 

agency  shaping  great  social  destinies  whose  import 
could  at  the  time  be  only  dimly  perceived.  Though 
a  lover  of  humanity,  he  was  a  servant  of  progress. 
The  present  was  not  all  important  to  him,  as  to 
most  men;  the  future  for  whose  good  he  wrought, 
w£is  everything."  Later  in  the  editorial  appears 
the   quotation   of   Mr.    Olmslead's   own   words   re- 


loi 


HOOK  REVIEWS 


garding  the  eflfect  of  Central  Park  upon  the  popu- 
lation of  New  York,  when  he  said:  "No  one  can 
doubt  that  it  exercises  a  distinctly  harmonizing  and 
refining  influence  upon  the  most  unfortunate  and 
most  lawless  classes  of  the  city — an  influence  favor- 
able to  courtesy,  self-control,  and  temperance." 

The  editorial  closes  with  a  parallel  wliich  is  most 
interesting  and  apparently  quite  justified:  "In  liis 
work  Mr.  Olmstead  resembled  in  some  respects 
William  Morris.  The  two  were  utterly  unlike  in 
temperament — one  visionary  and  enthusiastic,  the 
other  cool-lieaded  and  practical,  but  both  were  in- 
tellectually akin  to  each  other  as  master  craftsmen 
employing  different  artistic  media  for  the  attain- 
ment of  ends  distinctly  human.  Both  wrought  to 
divert  men  from  the  patlis  of  sordidness  and  mate- 
rialism: one  avowcilly,  the  other  in  silence.  Both 
sought  something  far  more  precious  than  fame  or 
riches,  and  achieved  that  place  in  the  select  com- 
pany of  the  immortals  which  is  the  reward  of  those 
whose  greatness  of  heart  and  noliility  of  soul  have 
helped  life  to  become  sweeter  and  purer,  and  have 
created  a  debt  which  the  remembrance  and  grati- 
tude of  men  can  only  feebly  repay." 

The  Chautauocas,  always  a  leader  in  social 
progress,  contains  "A  Survey  of  Civic  Better- 
ment," in  which  Mr.  D.  C.  Heath,  the  educational 
publisher  of  Boston,  gives  utterance  to  sentiments 
which  should  serve  as  an  inspiration  to  the  people 
of  every  thickly  populated  area  of  our  country. 
He  writes:  "I  consider  the  securing  of  public 
play-grounds  for  children  in  the  cities  the  best 
work  that  has  been  done  in  the  last  fire  years  in 
the  direction  of  civic  improvement.  It  is  because 
the  child  is  father  to  the  man.  Horace  Mann  once 
said  essentially  'one  former  is  worth  a  thousand 
reformers.'  I  believe  in  spending  ten  thousand 
dollars  on  children  where  we  spend  one  thousand 
on  adults.  The  older  we  grow  the  more  and  more 
evident  it  becomes  to  us  that  our  chief  function  in 
life  is  the  putting  of  the  next  generation  upon  the 
stage." 

To  the  same  branch  of  education  and  civic  bet- 
terment Harper's  for  Septeml)er  devotes  a  consid- 
erable space  occupied  by  the  simple,  clear  account, 
by  Stoddard  Dewey,  of  "A  Paris  Vacation  School 
Colony."  It  is  an  article  which  makes  one  better 
for  the  reading.  It  offers  an  excellent  j)ortrait  of 
the  happy,  yet  grave,  philosophizing  French  child 
of  the  people,  and  its  attractiveness  is  greatly 
increased  by  a  .series  of  illustrations  from  the  pen- 


cil of  that  inimitable  delineator  of  children,  Boutet 
de  Monvel. 

The  .Vhesa,  in  its  last  issue,  contains  five  ap- 
jircciations  by  eminent  men  upon  John  Ward  Stim- 
son's  recently  ]>ublished  book:  "The  Gate  Beauti- 
ful." Among  these  criticisms  that  of  tlie  Uev.  R. 
Heber  Newton  is,  perliaps,  the  most  sympathetic 
and  timely.  In  allusion  to  Mr.  Stimson's  return  to 
.Vmcrica  after  yeiirs  of  study  in  Paris,  Mr.  Newton 
savs:  "Tlie  artist  recognized  our  industrial  inferior- 
ity in  all  the  manufactures  wherein  beauty  is  a  use. 
He  .noted  our  manufacturers  importing  trained 
workmen  for  tlie  handicrafts  wliich  seek  to  give 
charm  to  life.  He  detected  the  presence  of  the 
veins  of  wealth  to  be  found  in  men  and  women 
capable  of  such  artistic  work.  He  recognized  that 
llie  true  democracy  must  make  of  the  beautiful,  as 
of  every  otlier  real  wealth  of  life,  a  communal  pos- 
session of  the  people.  He  perceived  the  truth  that 
art  can  only  flourish  when  it  is  not  an  exotic  of  the 
salon,  but  a  native  product  in  the  homes  of  the 
people;  when  it  is  not  the  potted  plant  in  the  pal- 
ace of  the  rich,  but  a  sturdy  out-of-door  growth  in 
the  yards  of  the  poor,  rooting  in  the  common  soil 
of  earth;  that  we  can  only  have  an  art  of  the  peo- 
ple when  we  have  a  people  capable  of  art,  living 
neither  in  sordidness  nor  squalor,  but  in  the  modest, 
honest  riches  which  leave  the  soul  of  man  capable 
of  discerning  that  there  is  a  wisdom  more  to  be 
desired  than  gold." 

Handichaft  for  September  publishes  an  article 
upon  "Stained  Glass,"  written  by  Mrs.  Sarah  Whit- 
man, the  Boston  artist,  which  is  beyond  all  doubt 
the  best  of  the  many  upon  the  subject  found  in 
the  American  magazines  of  the  present  year.  It 
shows  the  ample  technical  knowledge  and  the  ex- 
perience of  wide  travel  necessary  to  the  writer  who 
would  attempt  such  criticism,  joined  to  a  fervor 
which  comes  alone  from  the  worker  who  luis  toiled 
through  difficulties  to  success.  It  has,  withal,  a 
poetic  quality  in  the  "cut  of  the  phrase"  and  tlie 
<-hoice  of  words  which  causes  the  pages  to  "read 
tliemselves."  It  offers  bits  of  criticism  that  de- 
serve to  be  separately  preserved  by  all  students  of 
the  history  of  stained  glass,  and  it  should  be  de- 
veloped by  the  author  into  an  extended  monograph. 
It  contains  a  number  of  exceedingly  interesting 
statements,  among  which  the  following  will  be  wel- 
come to  many  readers: 

lOS 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


"I  have  thought  that  a  little  square  window  by 
Burne-Jones,  which  may  be  seen  in  the  Baptistry 
of  Trinity  Church,  Boston,  was  perhaps  the  most 
perfect  illustration  of  his  work  in  glass.  The  sub- 
ject is  Solomon  instructing  the  young  David  in  the 
building  of  the  Temple.  The  color  in  this  window 
is  very  beautiful,  and  the  composition  singularly 
elegant  and  harmonious.  The  figures  are  drawn 
in  the  semi-mystical  maimer  so  characteristic  of 
their  author,  and  the  method  of  painting  the  shad- 
ows and  details  is  quiet  and  restrained,  so  that  the 
mass  is  kept  very  flat.  In  work  within  the  lines  of 
Gothic  tracery,  Burne-Jones  often  showed  a  slight- 
ly flamboyant  or  half  grotesque  manner  of  treat- 
ing details,  but  here  everything  is  sustained  within 
severe  lines,  and  the  effect  both  in  line  and  color 
is  elegant,  simple,  and  full  of  religious  feeling." 

Architectuee  presents,  as  usual,  a  series  of  fine 
elevations  and  plans :  the  former  of  club  and  coun- 
try houses,  public  buildings,  and  formal  gardens. 
It  prints  also  an  article  upon  "Handicraft  in  De- 
sign," which  is  a  plea  for  the  simple  structural 
style,  and  as  such  readable  and  enlightening.  At 
the  same  time,  the  author  of  this  article  misappre- 
hends the  New  Art  of  France  in  tliat  he  mistakes 
the  vagaries  of  certain  individuals  for  the  general 
principles  of  the  school,  and  so  condemns  where 
there  is  much  to  admire  and  to  incorporate  into 
Ijoth  the  fine  and  the  industrial  arts,  as  a  perma- 
nent legacy  and  capital. 

House  and  Garden  contains  an  admirable  ar- 
ticle upon  "Old  Pewter,"  by  Dr.  Edwin  A.  Barber 
of  the  Pennsylvania  Museum,  at  Fairmount  Park, 
Philadelphia.  Dr.  Barber  is  known  as  the  author 
of  the  most  valuable  contribution  as  yet  made  to 


the  scanty  history  and  criticism  of  American  cera- 
mics. His  article  is  a  short  account  of  craftsmen, 
Oriental,  European  and  American,  who  have  distin- 
guished themselves  as  workers  in  the  metal  which 
is  an  inexpensive  substitute  for  silver.  Accom- 
panying the  text,  there  are  beautiful  illustrations 
of  colonial  trenchers  and  tankards,  Chinese  shrine 
services,  continental  flagons  of  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury, and  one  example  of  that  lovely  old  German 
vase- form,  called  the  hanap. 

The  Critic  offers  an  unusual  fragment  of  com- 
ment on  illustration  in  "Whistler's  Butterflies," 
by  Annie  Nathan  Meyer,  in  which  the  author  of 
the  comment,  by  means  of  a  stickful  of  type  and 
a  choice  made  from  "the  delightful  and  impossible 
butterflies"  scattered  over  the  margins  of  the 
"Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies,"  provides  the 
readers  of  the  magazine  with  a  quarter-hour  of 
exquisite  pleasure. 

The  International  Studio,  in  its  special  mid- 
summer number,  is  composed  of  three  artist  bio- 
graphies and  criticism,  dealing  respectively  with  J. 
S.  Cotman,  David  Cx)x  and  Peter  De  Wint:  the 
first  namcci  being  a  particularly  valuable  contribu- 
tion to  art  history,  since  it  treats  of  a  man  of  great 
ability  concerning  whom  little  has  been  written. 
The  September  issue  of  the  same  publication  is  re- 
markable for  two  most  attractive  articles:  "A  Mod- 
ern Spanish  Painter:  Ignacio  Zoloaga,"  by  Henri 
Frantz,  and  "The  Vellucent  (transparent  vellum) 
Process  of  Bookbinding." 

In  summing  up,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Septem- 
ber harvest  of  periodical  literature  offers  some- 
thing for  all  classes  of  readers:  the  student  of 
sociologi,-,  the  artist  and  the  connoisseur,— unhap- 
]>ily,  also,  much  for  the  devourer  of  crude  fiction. 


IM 


I'KEDKHICK    LAW    01,.MSTED 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


\'<.i.  \' 


X  ()  \'  1-:  M  P,  K  K     1  '.>();5 


X 


(>  . 


THE  ART  OF  FREDERICK  LAW 

OLMSTED 


HV  AHTHrK   SPKNCKK 


POPE,  wlio  loved  foniKil  luxury  in 
nature  as  well  as  in  verse,  took 
o;reat  pleasure  in  laving  out  the 
famous  garden  at  Twickenham. 
.V  friend  expressed  regret  that  having  com- 
pleted everything  he  would  find  nothing 
more  to  engage  his  attention.  "I  have 
nothing  left  me  to  do,"  said  Pope,  ''but  to 
add  a  little  oi'nament  or  two  at  the  line  of 
the  Thames."  On  each  side  of  the  landing 
place  he  intended  to  put  a  swan,  in  the  atti- 
tude of  flying  into  the  river,  and  behind 
them,  on  the  bank,  the  statues  of  two  river 
gods ;  then  there  were  to  be  two  corner  sejits 
or  temples,  with  urns  bearing  Latin  inscrip- 
tions, in  the  niches  of  the  grove  busts 
of  Homer  and  \'ergil,  and  higher  up  those 
of  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Cicero. 

Similar  preciosity  marked  the  treatment 
adopted  by  Walpole  at  Strawberry  Hill. 
and  even,  in  a  slightly  less  degree,  that  car- 
ried out  by  Shenstone  on  his  rural  seat  of 
three  hundred  acres  at  Leasowes.  Such 
examjiles  of  the  artificial-natural  l)elong  to 
the  first  stage  in  the  evolution  of  informal 
landscape  gardening  in   England.      Grad- 


ually, in  the  course  of  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury, the  art  lost  its  jiseudo-classical  bar- 
barity, and  grew  more  dignified  and  sin- 
cere. Sir  Humphrey  Repton  .ind  J.  C 
Loudon  in  the  early  nineteenth  century 
substituted  art  for  artificiality,  and  Down- 
ing, the  greatest  American  landsca])c  archi- 
tect of  his  time,  successfully  applied  the 
principles  which  they  had  developed.  But 
the  art  of  Repton,  Loudon,  and  Downing, 
though  it  glorified  nature,  was  consciously 
technical  and  pcrseveringly  sojihisticated. 
It  was  an  art  which  concentrated  itself 
largely  ujion  details,  and  lacked  the  bumjine 
breadth  requisite  to  adapt  it  to  the  wants 
of  a  democratic  community.  To  ])oint  the 
way  to  tiic  higher  possibilities  of  an  art 
whose  goal  should  be  nature,  and  whose 
means  of  attaining  that  goal  should  be 
adaptable  to  every  conceivable  condition  of 
humanity,  there  wa^  needed  a  new  master, 
greati-r  than  his  predecessors,  who  should 
deal  with  the  art  of  landscape  in  the  iiian- 
mr  of  the  statesman  and  the  lover  of  his 
kin<l. 

IJi'ed  in  the  bustling  conunercial  eiiviron- 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


It   .-rrrk    h.in 


■i\   1.; 


THE   HACK   i; 
suit  llii-iiiluw  s  all 


AV  I  i;ns 

1   lew.  \vi....l. 


iivi-lly  i-i.li;.- 


-Oliiisti-ii. 


nicnt  of  tlir  iiiiicteeiitli  ceiitiirv,  Frederick 
Law  Olnistiil  « UN  ;ui  unsophisticated  child 
of  his  age,  permeated  bv  its  utihtarian  and 
practical  spirit.  Ai  a  time  when  society 
was  ]e>N  tainted  >\ith  snrdiihu'ss  and  luxtirv 
than  now,  his  character  matured  without 
losing  any  of  its  iiatiye  sim])licity  and  pu- 
rity, and  as  it  deyelo])ed,  resisted  the  ener- 
vating influences  of  fashionable  and  sophis- 
ticated .-irtifieiality.  Without  fear  of  in- 
nii\ation.  he  created  a  new  art  and  gave  it 
a  new  ntune — a  name  that  could  not  s\ig- 
gost  dilettantism,  a  name  tliat  substituted 
serious  design  fiir  mincing  e\()ui.^itelle^s. 
A  dignified  arciiitectiiral  conception  of  tlie 
art  of  unfolthug  to  men  tlie  l)eautie.s  of 
nature  took  the  pl.acc  of  the  less  straight- 
forward, gardeiies(|ue  ideal  which  to  some 
extent  had  iiifleeiieed  e\eii  tlie  best  of  liis 
predecessors.  With  striking  ingeiniity 
and  abundant  cdinmon-sense  inherited  from 


a  thrifty  and  practical  ancestry,  he  laid 
before  his  countrymen  the  merits  of  the  new 
art.  Ilis  forceful  arguments  won  an  at- 
teiitixc  audience.  Everywhere  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  the  aid  of  his  fine 
discrimination  was  sought,  and  the  greater 
portion  of  his  life  was  s])ent  in  designing 
the  public  jiarks  with  which  his  ntune  will 
forcyer  be  associated  in  the  minds  of  the 
peoj)le. 

In  the  dedication  of  the  fifth  volume  of 
Professor  Sargent's  "Silva  of  North  Amer- 
ica," Olmsted  was  described  as  the  "great 
arti>t  whose  love  for  nature  has  been  a 
jiriceless  benefit  to  his  fellow  countrymen." 
From  early  youth  lie  had  been  possessed 
of  a  passion  for  natural  scenery.  It  had 
led  him  to  spend  many  da_ys  in  the  open,  to 
make  ilist.ant  pilgrimages  to  nature's  most 
beautiful  spots,  and  to  read  with  avidity  all 
the  works  that  he  could  obtain  on  the  sulj- 


10(> 


FKKDKKIt  K    LAW     ( )I  ..MS  ri:i ) 


ject  of  landscape.  Before  lie  was  fifteen 
he  had  read  tlie  chief  books  on  landscape 
gardenintj;  tliat  had  been  written.  Yet  it 
was  the  beaiitv  of  Thomson's  "jrrcat  sim- 
ple country,"  rather  than  the  tutored  ele- 
gance of  the  garden,  or  the  nigged  pictur- 
esqueness  of  the  wilderness  that  he  cliiotiv 
loved.  The  reposeful,  pastoral  scenery  of 
his  native  state  of  Connecticut,  rich  in  the 
beauties  of  meadow,  orcliard,  stream,  and 
lane,  he  loved  not  less  than  the  charms  of 
the  great  mountain  and  mighty  rivers. 
"No  gravel  paths,"  he  wrote,  "are  half  so 
charming  as  the  turfed  wood  roads  of  New 
England  farms,  no  sliruiihcry  so  jileasing 
as  that  which  nature  rears  along  farmers' 
walls,  no  pools  so  lovely  as  those  wliicli. 
fringed  with  natural  growth,  fill  and  drain 
away  according  to  the  season  and  the  sup- 
j)ly  of  rain." 

That  a  man  with  this  delicate  artistic 
feeling  for  landscape  should  have  been  able 
to  impress  the  stamp  of  his  individuality  on 
the  entire  public  park  policy  of  the  United 
States  seems  wonderful,  till  one  compre- 
hends that  the  secret  of  it  was  the  sentiment 
of  human  brotherhood  wliicli  prevented  him 
from  professing  any  taste  which  the  uncul- 
tivated might  not  share.  Instead  of  per- 
mitting a  gulf  to  separate  him  from  his 
clients,  he  adopted  their  own  point  of  view. 
Nature,  he  confessed,  had  never  appealed 
to  him  in  quite  the  same  way  as  to  the 
liotanist  or  the  naturalist,  nor  did  he  claim 
intimate  companionship  with  nature  in  the 
same  sense  as  Tlioreau,  Bryant,  or  Bur- 
roughs. In  this  unsophisticated  way,  pro- 
fessing no  closer  acquaintance  with  birds 
and  trees,  no  more  cultured  connoisseurship 
of  landscape,  than  the  generality  of  men 
living   in   cities,   he   invited   the   untutored 


common  jieople,  greatly  his  inferiors  in 
aesthetic  jierceptions,  to  foster  a  delight  in 
nature  wliich  might  be  utterly  free  t'rom 
affectation  or  iiypocrisy.  This  fact  ac- 
counts for  the  marvellous  impetus  and  in- 
spiration which  the  American  park  inove- 
iiient  received  at  his  hands.  Cities  entered 
cordially  into  co()j)erati()n  with  him,  and 
there  were  few  recommendations  that  he 
made  ^^hich  tliey  did  not  adopt.  This  re- 
sult was  brought  about  through  his  own 
modesty  and  sound  judgment.  A  trained 
man  of  affairs,  disciplined,  as  he  liad  been, 
by  such  great  undertakings  as  the  super- 
vision of  the  construction  of  Central  Park 
and  tlie  organization  of  tlie  work  of  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  he  was  able,  tbrougli 
his  knowledge  of  his  fellows  and  his  fac- 
ulty for  sane  and  convincing  argument,  to 
achieve  what  no  avowed  champion  of  a 
Tiovel  cult,  hiding  from  ])lel)eian  ridicule 
behind  a  screen  of  professional  sanctitv, 
could  ever  have  accomplished. 

As  for  the  art  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted, 
one  of  its  methods  may  be  said  to  have  con- 
sisted in  substituting  the  simplicity  of 
utility  for  the  ornateness  of  artifice.  Cleve- 
land, an  American  landscape  architect, 
whose  ideals  had  much  in  common  with 
tiiose  of  Mr.  Olmsted,  wrote  of  ^Ir.  "('aj)a- 
bility"  Brown,  the  English  gardener,  as 
falling  into  one  fault  in  his  zeal  to  avoid 
another.  For  geometrical  angles  Brown 
attempted  to  substitute  graceful  curves,  so 
that  it  was  remarked  of  his  ser|)entine  paths 
and  canals  that  "you  might  walk  from  one 
end  to  the  other,  stepping  first  upon  zig, 
and  then  upon  zag,  for  the  entire  length." 
Similar  scenic  effects,  at  least  witii  respi-ct 
to  ingenuity,  must  have  characterized  the 
extraordinary      fortifications      in      I'ncle 

U17 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


A    WdODSlliK. 

■•,M;iiiily,  rh.-  viilur  ..f  a   |iii]-k  .lc|.rii<N  ..li  llic  ili.' 


FRANKLIN    I'AK'K 

position  anil  qnality  of  its  wiH.ds.  ati'i  tlic  n-latinn 


of  it^  \v i--  ti)  utiii-r  natural  fi-aTiin 


-Olnisti-.l 


Toljv's  nariliii.  In\  ariald  V  \\ill  they  be 
ciicount-crrd  ulicn  tlie  t'undaiiu'iital  ini])or- 
taiicc  i)t'  utility  is  f'()i'<;'i>tten. 

All  of  .Mr.  Olmsted's  work  was  desioiud 
first  of  all  with  a  view  to  utility.  With 
that  ])rin('i])le  as  his  slartiiii;'  jxiiiit.  Ins  aim 
was  to  reprodiiei-  the  lieaiitv  of  nature. 
'I'lie  materials  of  his  art  were  primarily, 
with  onlv  easiial  exce])tioiis  of  minor  sig- 
nitii-ance.  (ihvsical  rather  than  formal,  and 
his  art  itself  was  an  adaptation  and  ar- 
rangement, rather  than  a  counterfeit  or 
modification  of  those  eli-meiits.  If  the  norm 
ot'  his  workm/uiship  did  not  exist  in  nature, 
approximations  to  it  wen.'  to  he  foi'iid 
e\'er\\\  here  ;  not  smijilv  in  the  forests  ot 
.Maine  or  on  the  rock-girdi'd  shore  of  (ape 
.\inie.  \\  here  nature  retained  mucli  of  In  v 
]irimitive  aspect,  hut  on  the  chariniiig  hilk 
sides  of  I,<'no\,  and  the  hroad  farming  lands 


of  ( 'onnecticut.  where  man  had  left  the 
marks  of  his  Inishandry.  Open  meadow, 
e\cn  thorgh  at  a  remote  period  it  may  have 
lieen  ])roduced  hv  clearing  awav  the  primc- 
\al  forest,  supplied  him  with  material  not 
less  legitimati'  than  the  tnnhrageous  dells 
and  ledge-capped  highlands  of  the  Adiron- 
dack wilderness.  He  did  not  adopt  a  .scien- 
tific formula,  and  aim  simply  to  reproduce 
the  normal  pi-ocesses  of  nature.  So  he  did 
not  sci-up!e  to  substitute  a  gentle  slope  for 
the  harsh  contour  of  a  moraine,  or  to  re- 
mo\e  stones  from  a  gravellv  field  and  re- 
surface it  with  loam.  The  artificiality  of 
the  town  was  mainly  what  he  wished  to 
avoid. 

Uemarkable  as  were  the  effects  whicli 
\\(  re  secured  in  the  treatment  of  forest,  sea- 
side, and  stream,  jirobably  the  most  delight- 
ful   work    of    Olmsted — at    all    events    that 


i 


FUKDKUKK    LAW     Ol.MSTKl) 

uliicli  (lailv  I'liriiishes  the  oreatost  onjoy-  s_vsti-m  of  lioston  iniliodios  pcrluips  tlie 
mint  to  larii'o  tliroii<;fs  of  pleasure  st'ckiTs —  most  satisf viiiji;  expression.  In  its  innii- 
-  to  be  found  in  such  ample  park  meadows  nierable  contrasts  of  form  and  arranifement, 
as  he  desifrned  for  Central  Park  in  New  in  its  variety  of  scenery,  in  its  manifold 
York,  and  Prospect  Park  in  Brooklyn.  The  ojjportunities,  on  the  one  hand  for  an  ex- 
same  treatment,  which  is  essentially  a  trans-  quisite  treatment  of  limited  areas,  on  the 
~i'ript  of  the  broad  Hekls  of  tiie  New  Kng-  other  for  l)roa(l  itrcets  of  composition  in 
land  farm,  is  to  be  enjoyed  in  the  beautiful  laroe  tracts  of  woodland  and  field,  it  is 
Ellicot  Dale  of  l-'ranklin  I'ark.  in  the  citv  (|uite  unlike  the  public  <rrounds  ol'  anv 
of  Boston.  other  city.  Such  a  combination  of  sea- 
These  beautiful  park  meadows,  however,  shore,  streamside,  meadow,  and  forest 
with  their  charminji'  vistas  and  broad  ex-  scenery  is  doubtless  to  be  found  nowhere  in 
panscs  of  turf,  could  not  have  been  j)ro-  ([uite  the  form  in  which  ;\Ir.  Olmsted  ar- 
duced  from  the  crude  features  of  the  land-  ranoed  it  in  Boston.  Later  his  disciple, 
scape  in  its  orif^inal  condition,  had  not  Hie  lamented  Charles  I-^liot,  continued  the 
Olmsted  been  true  to  Loudon's  doctrine  that  work  which  his  own  failing  health  com- 
"the  recognition  of  art  is  a  first  principle  jielk-d  him  to  relinquish.  Olmsted's  treat- 
in  landscape  gardening."  Refraining  not  ment  of  the  Marine  Park  at  City  Point  fur- 
less  from  a  mechanical  imitation  of  nature  nished  Eliot  with  a  suggestion  for  the 
tlian  from  the  use  of  superadded  orna-  lievire  JJeach  and  Nantasket  reservations, 
ment.  he  endeavored  to  give  his  work  the  Often  the  elder  architect,  as  in  the  case  of 
stamp  of  a  common  idea.  If  a  landscape  Hie  improvement  of  the  shores  of  Charles 
gave  the  lie  in  one  place  to  what  was  said  River,  began  work  which  was  to  be  carried 
in  another,  the  delightful  impression  would  forward  by  the  younger  to  a  termination 
be  destroyed.  So  he  was  always  careful  to  wjiicli  could  come  oiilv  after  manv  vears. 
avoid  the  presence  of  incongruous  elements.  It  was  the  park  system  of  Boston,  iiowever. 
At  Easton's  Pond  in  Newport,  he  remarked  which  furnished  the  pattern  for  that  metro- 
to  Charles  Eliot, — who  was  destined  after-  jjolitan  system  which  ha>,  more  than  once. 
ward  to  follow  this  advice  at  Revere  Beach  been  declared  tiic  model  park  svstem  of 
near  Boston. — that  any  large  structure,  like  .\merica. 

a  bathhouse,  would  look  wholly  incongruous  The  Back  Bay  l-"en>.  the  Kiverwav.  and 

on  the  gravelly  beach  close  to  the  open  sea.  Olmsted    Park,    ai'i-   chietly    remarkable    for 

Likewise    he    insisted    on    the    necessitv.    in  tiie    beautiful    eti'ect^    whicii    were    secured, 

public   park.s,   of  screening   plantations  to  notwithstanding   a    radical    transformation 

shut  out  from  view  the  objects  of  the  town,  of  many  acres  of  the  region.    Difficult  engi- 

and  whatever  might  be  unfavorable,  in  his  neering  proijlems  confronted  the  architect, 

own  phrase,  ''to  a  continuous  impression  of  and  were  solved  by  the  same  skill  in  dealing 

consistent  sylvan  scenery."  with  artificial  drainage  which  was  siiown  at 

Of  the  art  of  Olmsted, — of  which  jHiblic  Belle    Isle    Park    in    Detroit,    and    at    the 

parks  afford,  if  not  the  most  excellent,  ccr-  grounds   of   the   Cohnnbiaii    Exj)ositioii    in 

taiiily  the  most  notable  examj)les, — the  park  Chicago.      In   the  I'V'Us,  every  s(|uare  yard 

1(p:i 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


(i\KK    I'lll-:   MKAlHiW,   1-I(A,\KLIN    I'AUK 

"A  l>n:i.ltli  <if  view— wliii'li  in  spite  of  necessarily  limad  roads  ami  amy 
wallis  i-.  verv  refresliin?.  interesting;,  and  liea\itifnl 
in  a  lii^'li  desfree."-(llTlist.d 

of  thu  surface  was  ciitirflv  cliang't'd.  'VW 
ultimate  aj)[)eai"ance  of  the  ])ark,  as  it  looks 
to-da_v,  was  thus  forecast  by  its  creator: 
"It  is  designed  to  appear  u  fortunate  ]5rcs- 
ervatioii  of  a  typical  hit  of  New  Eu^'laud 
seashoiT  landscape,  inchiding,  as  it  will,  a 
salt  cicek  hordered  by  salt  meadows  and 
low.  wooded,  f^ravelly  ridp;es.  There  will 
be  in  it  no  sliavi'ii  kiwns  or  pastured  mea- 
dows, the  plantetl  ground  above  tlie  salt  art  that  he  practised.  "Mainly,"  lie  said, 
marsh  being  occu])ied  by  trees,  underwood,  "the  value  of  a  park  depends  on  the  dispo- 
and   low,   creeping,   flowering   plants    in   a      sition   and   quality    of   its   woods,   and   the 


condition       suooestive       of 
natural  wildness," 

Here,     as     elsewhere     in 
the  ])arks  of  Boston,  we  see 
the     true     American     land- 
sca))e.      No    American    he- 
fore  Olmstetl,  not  even  the 
eclectic  and  elegant  Down- 
ing,  had   clearly    perceived 
the  necessity  of  heeding  the 
demand  of  his  native  land 
for    worthy    artistic    treat- 
ment.      Olmsted    loved    the 
broad   meadow,    richly   car- 
petial    with    turf,    and    the 
great-     tree      standing      in 
stately  solitude  in  the  midst 
of   tiie  gently   undulating, 
wood-bordered      field.      He 
ri'.Hli/i'd  that  in  those  parts 
of  the  coiuitry   which  have 
long  undergone  cultivation, 
.ind  .are  in  certain  features 
similar   to    sections   of   the 
Old  World,  the  bi'oad,  open 
treatment,    with    views    of 
striking  isolated  objects  like 
trees  or  boulders,  might  be 
appropriate.     Nevertheless, 
in  designing  parks  and  laving  out  private 
estates  he  was  extremely  loath  to  introduce 
any  elements  of  landscape  which  would  seem 
foreign    to    their    region.      While    he    was 
f.amiliar    with    the    technical    principles    of 
Knglish  landscape  art,  he  was  never,  in  any 
sense,  a  mere  inn'tator  of  the  English  style. 
If  he  had  a  theory  of  landscape,  it  was 
;i   simj)le   one,   as   free   from  artifice  as  the 


no 


l-'REDKKKK    LAW     OL.MS TKIJ 


relation  of  its  woods  to  otlicr  imtiiral  foii- 
turcs,"  tliiis  showing  ]iis  beliot'  in  tlic  fun- 
damental importance  of  trees  as  a  principal 
source  of  beauty.  The  character  of  his 
work  rcndei's  apparent  his  preference  for 
the  dull,  cool  colors  of  the  forest,  rather 
than  the  warm,  striking  hues  of  the  varie- 
gated flower  garden.  Potted  plants,  for- 
mal flower  beds,  and  closely  trimmed  grass 
he  tiiought  suggested  the  town,  or  at  least 
the  suburb.  In  Franklin  Park  is  to  he 
seen  precisely  that  sort  of  scenery  that  he 
loved — broad,  slightly  hollowed  expanses 
of  open  country,  set  off  by  a  background 
of  dull,  cool-colored  woodsides,  the  top  of 
the  forest  presenting  a  gracefully  undulat- 
ing sky  line.  Here  is  to  l)e  found,  in  liis 
own  words,  "a  leafy  screen  which  hides  the 
town,  a  breadth  of  view,  an  openness,  a 
peculiar  kind  of  scenery,  which  in  spite  of 
necessarily  broad  roads  and  gra\-el  walks, 
is  very  refreshing,  interesting,  and  !)eau- 
tiful  in  a  high  degree."  Broad  vistas  and 
glades  have  been  opened  up  by  the  removal 
of  knolls  and  other  obstructions,  and  trees 
and  shrubs  have  been  planted  where  the 
effect  of  shadow  would  enhance  tjie  charm 
of  the  sunny  meadow.  In  the  woods  a 
thicket  of  low.  sturdy  buslics  adds  to  tlic 
picturesqneness  and  harmoniousness  of  the 
perenially  interesting  scenery.  Here,  per- 
haps, we  find  the  type  of  his  ideal.  Sim- 
plicity of  treatment  was  for  him  the  key  to 
the  problem  of  the  reconciliation  of  beaut v 
and  utility.  Roads,  walks,  and  all  formal 
and  architectural  elements  he  admitted  into 
the  park  design  only  to  the  extent  to  which 
they  were  necessary  to  enable  people  to 
enjoy  the  best  views,  and  to  obtain  rest  and 
nourishment ;  they  were  the  impediments  of 
out-of-door  art  rather  than  its  essentials. 


In  the  national  reservations  of  lln'  \v\- 
lowstone.  Niagara,  and  Yosemite,  «lu-re 
nature  had  done  all  that  was  to  he  done. 
Mr.  Olmsted's  work  ^•oll^iste(l  in  little  more 
than  ill  suggesting  how  to  make  their 
beauty  available  for  public  enjoyment.  In 
the  designing  of  municipal  parks,  he  was 
in  a  province  which  was  distinctly  his  own 
demesne,  wherein  his  talent  could  have  free 
play.  Hut  his  achievements  in  tJie  fre- 
quently slighted  field  of  domestic  areiiitec- 
ture  nnist  not  be  forgotten.  Mere  he  did 
much  to  foster  a  taste  more  robust  and 
more  American  than  that  which  tolerates 
the  imported  Italian  garden  and  ncrudes- 
cent  pergola.  He  threw  aside  the  technical 
rules  governing"appro])riati()n  of  ground.'' 
and  recognized  wjiat  might  i)e  called  an 
aj)plication  to  landscape  art  of  Uuskin's 
saying,  "architecture  does  not  begin  luitil 
the  utility  of  the  structure  has  been  pro- 
vided i'or."  If  this  rule  was  valid,  the 
importance  of  defining  clearly  the  line  of 
division  between  what  belonged  to  the  home, 
and  what  did  not.  was  greater  than  that  of 
forming  a  beautiful  prospect  in  which  the 
relation  of  the  house  to  its  surroundings 
should  be  permitted  to  become  confused. 
The  treatment  without  the  house,  he  be- 
lieved, should  conform  to  the  treatment 
within,  and  should  adapt  itself  first  of  all. 
to  a  pure  and  refined  domestic  life.  lie 
revolted  from  the  Old  World  methods  that 
Parmenter  had  ]>ractisi'(l.  and  gave  the  art 
of  domestic  gardening  an  entirely  new 
character. 

Throughout  the  country  he  left  memo- 
rials of  his  taste  and  skill :  in  the  grounds  of 
colleges  and  public  buildings,  railway  sta- 
tions and  private  residences,  in  siujiptuous 
country  estates,  and  in  the  gracefully  out- 


Ill 


THE   CRAFTSMAX 

lined  roads  of  subvirbuu  .settlements.      But  sessed.  in  a  way,  much  the  same  sort  of  coii- 

his  name  will  always  be  chiefly  associated  viction  regarding  the  vital  needs  of  man's 

with    the    ])ui)lic    ])arks    of    America.       His  higher  nature,  as  held  men  like  [Morris  and 

love  for  his  fellow  men.  his  ardent  interest  ]{u>kin  in  sway.      While  he  little  resenibleil 

in    the    welfare   of    societw    his    courage    in  them  in  temi)erament.  he  was  one  with  them 

facing   the    ridicule   that    the   Central    Park  in  thinking  of  life  as  far  greater  than  art. 

inidertaking  ;it   first  eiicountei-ed.  as  well  as  lie   sought    to   Impress   upon   his   age,   with 

the   patience   and    foresight   with   whic-h    he  the  judicious  calculation  of  the  man  of  af- 

was  content  to  do  work  which  only  the  hand  fairs,  rather  than  the  impetuous  zeal  of  the 

of   time    cindd    hi'iiig    to    completeness    ami  reformer,    the    highest    ethical    teaching   of 

retouch   in   mellow   coloi's  -all    these  things  those    who    choose    to    worship    ;irt    at    tlie 

made  him  the  chief  su]>]iort,  as  well  as  the  shrine  of  n.ature,  and  wish   to  bring  about 

principalinsjtirat  ion,of  tin'  |).ark  m(nement.  the  ;i«akeniiig  of  men's  souls  to  the  beaut^' 

Art   with   him   could   exist  (udy    for  man's  of  the  world  about  them. 

sake,  and  must  be  tledicated  to  the  object  of  Bacon  \\  rote  in  his  curious  essay  on  gar- 

])roducing    not    merely    new    pleasures.    I)ut  dening:  "When   ages  grow   to  civility  and 

new  powers  and  new    })erce])tions.      He  saw  elegance,  men  come  to  buihl  stately  sooni'r 

the  dangers  of   the   bustling,   artificial   life  than    to    garden    finely — as    if    gardening 

of  connnerce.  and  the  need  of  a  strong  force  were  the  greater  perfection."     To  the  mind 

to    coiuitei'act   a    perverted   exercise   of   the  of  Olmsted,  landsca]ie  art  was  worthy  of  a 

instinct  of  self-preservation.      Vet  to  check  nobler  use  than  thai  of  the  fussv  and  elabo- 

tlie  sjjread  of  a  sordid  niaterialisni  nothing  rate  ornamentation  to  which  Bacon  was  ac- 

could  be  so  effective,  he  knew,  as  the  (level-  customed.     It  deserved  to  rank  with  ])oetrv, 

opnient  of  new  habits,  new    tastes,  and  new  nuisic.    sculpture,    .and    ]iainting,    not    with 

capacities    for   action    and    for    enjoyment.  jierfumei-y  and  costumes.     So  he  re-created 

Simple  and  noble  pleasures,  substituted  fen-  .anew    the  art  of  landscape  gardening,  giv- 

wasteful     and     degrading     luxuries,     could  ing  it  ,a  foi-m   |ireeminentlv  adapted  to  his 

better  man's  condition,  and  such  ]ile;isures  own    land   and   epoch.      Working   with    n;i- 

were  to  be  found  in  the  very   foi-nrs  of  ac-  ture's   own   materials,   he   sketched  the  ont- 

tixity     and     recreation     which     contributed  lines  of  .an   infinite   variety  of  compositions 

most    t<i  his   physic.d  and   moral   well-i)eing.  of  lieroic  size,  leaving  her  to  fill  in  the  col- 

This   w;is   the   ide.al    which   <  )lmsted   sought.  (u's.       I''verv    sunnner    she    retouches    them, 

with     laborious     e.arnestness.     to     inculcate  ever  and  ,im)n  .adding  strokes  which  bring 

throughout   his   profession.al   career.      A^'ith  them  closer,  \i-.ar  bv  year,  to  the  result  that 

a    m.anly    conlinuily    of    pur|)ose,    he    ne\er  he     intend<'d:    .and    with    the    coming    anfl 

forgot    its    import.ance.      The    f.iculties    of  going  of  every  season,  the  illusion  of  the  .ab- 

;in    .acute    .and    \igorous    mind    .and    .a    \irile  sence  of  hum.an  design  sttvulilv  grows  more 

and   liuin.-ine  cli.ir.u-tei'  wore  themscKi's  out  complete.       It     is    e\(ai    as    he    would    liave 

in    the    splendid    task    of    ])opularizing    this  wished — to   obliter.att'   himself  utterly,   that 

ideal  .among  the  Anua'a-.m  ])eo])le.     He  pos-  the  .art  which  he  lo\ed  might  be  glorified. 


1 IV 


THE   SILNERSMITHS    ART 

i\  'I'HK  Minni.K  ACEs-riiK  r\\  KLi'iii  c  i:\ii  i{v 

JKAN  S(  IIOIMI.K 
Traiislatid   fri>iii   the   I'rtncli   In    liiisi:  SAiiiiKNT 

THE  <irva\:  inovciiifnt  uliicli  is  oh-  evorv  suhstaiicr  or  iiiatii-ial.  the  nik's  wliiclu 
served  to-dav  in  tile  iiulustrial  arts.  more  or  liss  eoiisci()usl\ .  workers  in  tlio 
and  wliii'li.  under  tlie  name  of  industrial  arts  liave  followed  in  ereatinff 
L'.irt  Soiii'cau,  lias  excited  so  tlieir  works :  rules  wliicii  are  to-dav.  as  tliev 
many  arguments,  interests  all  serious  minds;  were  yesterday  and  will  be  to-morrow,  irood 
because,  by  whatever  name  one  designates  and  stable,  sinci'  they  proceed  from  (|uali- 
it,  it  is  a  real  revival  of  the  decorative  ties  jieculiar  to  the  method  employed,  which 
styles  which  our  predecessors  had  allowed  remains  invariable  throughout  time;  gold 
to  reach  tile  final  degree  of  decadence.  We  being  gold,  to-dav,  as  it  was  tweiitv  cent- 
know  well  that  we  arc  not  crcatin":  a   new  uries  am). 

art;  we  know  that  time  is  a  necessary  co-  It  is.  therefore,  in  the  past  that  we  must 

adjutor:   but   we   are   certain   that    we   are  seek  rules  fin- the  art  of  the  future. 

right  ill  not  contenting  ourselves  with  what  "Tlu'  studv  of  the  })a>t"-   one  might  ob- 

exists.   and   in   striving   to   do   better:    that  ject — "Again  and  always!      It  appears  to 

thus,  in  the  great  work  of  civilization,  we  have  been  done  so  tlioroughlv  that  there  is 

^hall    not    be   ;in   ob.stacle   to   jirogress,   but  no  return  to  be  made  to  it.      W'v  have  been 

rather    that    we    shall    lighten    the    task    of  nourished  upon  the  past,  until  it  no  longer 

those  who  shall  succeed  us.  contains    sustenance.      The    past,    it    would 

The  duty  of  the  critic,  the  function  of  seem,  is  precisely  what  we  should  avoid  I" 

the  art    reviews,   is   to  exercise  a  judicious  Now,  in  truth,  there  is  nothing  less  known 

■i-n.sorship  over  the  productions  of  artists,  than     the     jiast.      During    the    nineteenth 

and  thus  to  contribute  toward  forming  the  century,    for   examjile.    the    industrial    arts 

public  taste.      But   criticism    is   valid   only  re|)rodiiced  only  a   i\\\    unvarying  models, 

when   it   is  based  upon   princijlles  firm,  evi-  each    of    which,    enjoyed,    one    knows    not 

dent,  and  of  value  recognized  by  all.      15ut  why.  the  singula)-  privilege  of  re|)resent  iiig 

where   shall    we   find    rules    and    principles''  an   ejiocli.      One   had   thus  a  (iothic  colfer. 

We  shall  not  form  them  a  priori,  through  a  two  or  three  hujfcts  in  the  IJeiiascence  style, 

process  of  pure   reasoning.      W'e  can   dis-  a    Louis    XI\.    writing-desk    and    chairs, 

cover  them  only  by  examining  the  beautiful  Louis    X\'.    silver,      and    we    were    gi-eatly 

works  of  the  jiast.      The  attentive,   intelli-  si;i-|)rised  on  entering  a  imisenm  to  uitness 

gent  examination  of  old  master-pieces  will  the  largi-  liberty  ri-igning  in  the-,e  styli's,  of 

jjcnnit    us   to   establish    for   every    art,    for  » hieh  the  modern  imitators  riproduicil  onlv 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


;i  (V'W  of  the  more  stnkinu,'  cli.-iractcriNtio. 
Till'  (lcror.'iH\r  ai'ti-.ts  liail  no  ])n;ci^e  know  I- 
odi;'!'  of  tile  riclir>  of  Hir  past.  'I'lifV  had 
hcfoiT  tlicin  oiil\'  a  few  ])ieces  uliicli  tasliion 
rcciuiriil  Hu'iii  to  reproducr. 

Hut  tluTi'  was  a  still  o-raver  aspect  of  tlie 
existint;-  eoudltions.       Artists  knew  the  past 


.\iitiqiH  \  ;i>t' III"  rui'k  rr>  ^tal.  mouiiti-il  iii  >ilvfr  diif 
in^  tliu  twelfth  rentury:  t'runi  tlie  Treasury  uftlir 
Ablieynf  St.  Denis,  near i'ari.^:  now  in  the  cralleries 

..f   til.'   I.i.livre 


only  t(j  eop\-  it.  Instead  of  stitdi/ing  tlie 
old  models,  thev  e\ertt-d  all  their  efforts  to 
reproduee  them  with  understanding  and 
.aei'uracy.  They  fashined  works  of  co])y- 
ists.  and  not  of  creators.  In  that  fact  lav 
their  ])rinci])al  error.  A  decoratixe  art 
uliicli  t'nters  the  path  of  reproduction  is  a 
dead  art.  They  copied  so  exten.sivcly  that, 
when  the  innovators  appeared,  these  latter 
\\v]\-  thoroui^hlv  .alienated  from  the  ])ast 
which  existed  only  in  dead  remains,  and  of 
which  the  same  examples  were  offered  in 
endless  series.  Affected  by  such  conditions, 
m.anv  of  those  who  cast  themselves  on  the 
side  (jf  the  new  art,  said:  "I.ct  us  fix  our 
gaze  upon  the  present  !  I>et  us  no  longer 
have  considei'ation  for  the  ])ast,  which  has 
heen  for  us  a  frightftd  burden!  lA't  our 
«(irk  l)c'  iiidej)endent  and  original!" 

Hut  ,1  stvie  can  not  be  improvised.  There 
arc'  rules  uhicli  go\ern  the  production  of  a 
\.ise,  a  dresser,  an  arm-chair,  just  as  there 
ai'e  I'ules  for  building  a  house.  Imagina- 
tion .aloiic'  and  un.aided  is  impotent,  danger- 
ous, lawless.  Let  us  praise  the  artists  who 
s.av  :  "Let  us  fix  our  gaze  u])on  the  present," 
hut  let  us  com])lete  their  unfinished  formula. 
\\'e  shall  say:  "Let  us  fix  our  gaze  ii])on 
the  present,  with  eyes  that  have  studied  the 
[)ast."  If  we  wish  our  nKxlern  work  to  be 
strong  and  lasting,  it  must  not  l)c  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  changeless  rules  of  art.  It  is 
to  seek  these  rules  that  we  study  tlie  past. 

In  reviewing  fine  models  of  historic  styles, 
we  should  iK)t  regard  them  as  objects  to  be 
coi)ied.  Our  aim  is  not  imitation.  We 
s,iv:  "Here  are  admirable  ])roductions ; 
but  if  you  wish  in  turn  to  create  a  reallv 
bi-autiful  work,  deserving  to  be  preserved 
and  made  known,  understand  that  you  will 
not    gain    your    end   by    copying,    but    by 


n  I 


rilK.    S1L\  i:i{S.MI  I  II  S    AKI" 


receiving  inspii-iition  from  tlip  lessons  wliicli 
tiie  past  can  give  \ou.*'  Tiiese  lessons,  it  is 
our  duty,  as  historians  and  critics,  to  speci- 
t'v.  "riie  artist  who  inadf  tiiis  object,"  wo 
shall  sav,  "produced  a  work  of  art.  because, 
first  of  all.  he  j)ossessed  an  exact  knowledge 
of  the  material  he  iMuployid.  Each  mate- 
rial has  its  qualities  and  its  defects.  He 
has  avoided  the  latter,  and  thrown  the  for- 
mer into  strong  relief.  The  decorative  ef- 
fects which  he  has  attained  are  precisely 
tiiosc  which  can  be  drawn  from  that  special 
material  and  from  no  other  medimn.  Fur- 
thermore, he  has  shown  respect  for  iiis  ma- 
terial. He  has  treated  it  honestly,  without 
subterfuge  or  deceit.  Thirdly,  in  order  to 
create  his  work,  he  has  sought  inspiration 
only  from  the  functions  which  the  object  of 
his  labors  was  to  serve.  I^tility  dictated  to 
him  the  choice  of  forms,  which  are  beauti- 
ful, because  they  are  necessary.  Again,  he 
has  understood  the  part  to  lie  played  by 
ornament,  which  should  not  i)e  applied  arti- 
ficially upon  the  object,  but  rather  should 
form  an  integral  part  of  it,  issuing  from  it 
as  the  leaf  and  flower  issue  from  the  stem, 
of  wliich  they  are  the  expansion. 

"This  is  not  all ;  the  artist-workman  has 
^hown  respect  for  himself.  He  would  lia\i 
abased  himself  in  his  own  opinion  by  copy- 
ing an  earlier  work.  He  recognized  the 
dignity  of  his  art  which  resides  in  the  in- 
vention of  beautiful  shapes.  Therefore,  he 
disdained  even  to  repeat  himself.  And  in 
case  of  the  smallest  ornament  he  submitted 
himself  to  the  task  of  creating.  Conse- 
quently, in  the  minutest  detail,  there  ha> 
resulted  an  indefinable  savor  of  originality. 
of  personality. 

"Lastly,  he  has  respected  his  trade,  his 
craft.      He  has  employed  only  the  best  an<! 


surest  processes,  although  thev  might  be 
the  longest  and  the  most  costly.  He  es- 
teemed time  spent  as  of  little  cons((|ueiice, 
provided  the  resulting  work  were  iieauti- 
ful." 

.Many  more  ])oints  remain  to  lie  noted, 
and  they  are  those  of  j)rim.irv  im|)ortance. 
All  these  things  the  past  can  teach  us.  The 
lessons  which  we  are  to  seek  therein  are  not 
in  the  least  dead  or  withered  things.  'I'hey 
are  ))rinciples  valuable  for  us:  of  |)res(iit 
value,  since  they  are  constant  and  change- 
less. This  is  the  way  in  which  to  (ji.'estion 
the  past,  the  method  bv  which  we  are  here 
to  studv  one  of  the  most  fruitful  of  the 
industrial  arts:  that  of  the  silversmith,  as 
developed  in  France  from  the  Middle  Ages 
to  our  own  times. 


AniiMui- vu~r  lit"  i»ir|>liyry.  iiioiiiiti'il  in  silver  iliirliit' 
till-  twt'Iftii  ct-iilury:  now  in  tin*  CHlliTlfH  uf  iIm- 
I.iiiivri'  Hn<i  known  ii*<  Itn'  "  Siicrr  Va--"-  " 


Hi 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Tile  jir<Tious  iiiftaU,  i;'<>l<l  .'ind  >il\iT.  were      tliox.'  who  study  tlie  history  of  work  in  thu 
<iii)ilii\  c(l    li\-    niiii    a>    soon    as    tiii-v    (.'ould       pn.'Cious  metals. 

fashion  and  ornament  ohjects.      The  desire  Thi'    l)arl)arian     in\asions    ensued.      The 

of  ple.asinu;  innate  in  l)otii  sexes,  tlie  ]iride  anticjue  wDrld  crumbled  away.  The  over- 
whelming' floods  of  devastating'  peojiles 
|)assi<I  o\er  the  world  and  renewed  its  face, 
it  is  not  u  ithin  the  limits  of  our  subject  to 
studv  here  that  which  these  barbarians 
liroug'ht  « ith  them  :  the  Goths,  A'isigochs, 
l,i)mi)ards,  l-'ranks,  Saxons,  Burg'undians 
.and  Normands,  of  whom  wo  are  the  sons. 
'I'hey  had  a  taste  for  art  which  they  trans- 
lated in  a  mannt'r  both  original  and  beauti- 
I'ul.  We  miglit  indeed  show  specimens  of 
thi'ir  work  «hich  are  related  to  tlie  gold- 
and  silversmith's  .art.  and  date  from  IVIcro- 
\uigian  times:  that  is  to  sav,  which  are 
anterior  to  tlu'  ninth  century.  For  exam- 
ple, i)in(hngs  of  missals,  whose  silver  set- 
tings, encrusted  with  uncut  gems  or  colored 
glass,  framed  some  Byzantine  ivory  carv- 
ing. There  are  also  beautiful  examples  of 
llii'  ( '.irolingian  period.  But  we  wish  to 
begin  with  finished  uorks,  which  will  show 
lis  the  |ierfectioii  of  the  new  civilization  in 
modern  l-'.urope.  \Ve  shall,  therefore,  open 
this  study  with  the  twelfth  century, 
of  displaviiig  riches.  Ii.ixc   placed  jcwils  m  This    pmod.    it    is   true,   epitomizes   m   a 

the  iiumlier  of  the  oldest  documents  that  \\v  masterly  way,  the  life  of  the  previous  Chris- 
have  iircsrrM'd  regarding  priniiti\e  human-  tian  ciaituries.  It  attained  the  ])oint  of 
itv.  \^'l■.apons  Were  eliisilcd  .at  ,an  earh  |(erfi'etioii  tow.ard  which  the  arts  uncon- 
period.  b',\ er\oiie  is  .ae(|uaintiil  with  the  sciousl  ,•  tended  from  the  time  when  a  new 
Homeric  descriptions  of  sccaies  from  the  lives  civilization  arose.  We  may  call  the  twelfth 
of  the  gods  reprisriite<l  on  the  shields  of  the  great  Century  of  the  jNIiddle  Ages.  And 
hei'ors.  In  Ihc  period  of  the  high  (ireeL  with  truth,  since,  if  it  shows  us  the  height 
.and  Roman  ei\  ilization.  Iii\ur\  engendered  of  attainment  of  the  preceding  ages,  it 
siiperl)  works  of  the  goldsmith's  and  sihrr-  gives  also  the  ])oiiit  of  departure:  it  opened 
smilh's  ;irls.  of  which  onlv  a  few  speei-  a  long  path  for  civilization.  It  was  the 
mens  are  ext.iiit.  b'or  a  Later  period  of  twelfth  century  which  gave  the  solution  of 
Kom.iii  ei\  ili/al  ion.  the  Hosco  litiilf  collec-  the  architectural  problem  of  vaulting,  in  a 
lion  olfeis  .1  sriies  of  important  pieces  i'ov      manner,  solid,  economical  and  beautiful,  the 

I  Hi 


Antique  v;isf  i.f  |Mir-i>liy  }■>  ,  iiu'iiiiIimI  in  sil\i-r  diiriii: 

till-    twi-lftl litilry:     now    in   lln-    iraili-rii-s   i.f  tin 

I  ,on\  i-i-  ami  kln>\\  li  as  tin    "  SniT'-f  V.-isn  " 


TIIK  SIi.\  KKSMl  riis   Airr 


srciit  eilifices  (iovoted  to  reliji-ion.  The  stvle 
called  Gothic  put  forth  its  first  attempts 
during-  tlie  first  lialf  of  the  twelftli  century, 
in  tlie  province  of  tlie  lie  de  France,  of  which 
Paris  was  the  capital.  In  sculpture,  there 
was  a  similar  development.  Monmnental 
sculpture  arose  in  France  in  the  twelfth 
century.  The  thirteentli  merely  continued 
in  the  path  already  traced.  As  for  the 
industrial  arts,  they  liad  then  reached  such 
a  degree  of  perfection  that  it  can  he  af- 
firmed that  there  has  since  been  no  progress, 
and  too  often  only  decadence.  As  for  work 
in  the  precious  metals,  the  pieces  which  we 
illustrate  have  never  been  surpassed. 

There  were  then,  as  now,  two  principal 
methods  of  working  silver:  the  one  casting; 
the  other  beating  the  metal  in  a  thin  sheet 
over  a  hard  form  or  matrix.  In  iioth  cases, 
the  silver  was  retouched  by  the  chisel  after 
being  cast  or  beaten.  Finally,  the  twelfth 
and  the  thirteenth  century  silversmiths  used 
extensively  patterns  in  relief,  and  also  silver 
filigree,  which  they  riveted  upon  the  body 
of  the  piece,  or.  «  ith  great  skill,  soldered  to 
it.  Often,  also,  they  retouched  their  pieces 
with  the  graving-tool,  and  traced  decora- 
tive motifs  on  flat  surfaces.  Silver,  has, 
indeed,  defects  as  a  material.  It  docs  not 
coat,  like  ivory,  bronze  and  copper.  I' 
stains  easily.  When  jjolished.  it  glistens 
with  high-liglits  which  sometimes  change 
the  appearance  of  the  shapes.  To  over- 
come these  defects  tlierc  has  been  devised  an 
entire  .series  of  ingenious  methods:  incising, 
hammering  and  engraving,  which  flull  the 
surfaces. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  none  of  these  pro- 
ces.ses  were  neglected.  The  delicacy  of  the 
work  is  astonishing.  Time  was  then  an 
unimportant  factor.      The  artisan  proceed- 


ed slowly  and  worked  through  ilays  and 
weeks  necessary  to  complete,  according  to 
rule,  the  piece  upon  which  he  was  engageil. 
We.  on  the  contrarv,  <'conomize  time  alwavs 
and  everywhere.  For  us  time  is  the  only 
j)reci()us  thing.  We  are  forced  to  create 
nuich,  and  consequently  quickly.  To  )iro- 
duce  the  greatest  quantity  in  the  least  time, 
at  the  cheapest  rate:  such  is  the  desire  of 
the  manufacturei's  who  have  industrialized 
the  art  of  our  times  and  who.  in  doing  this, 
have  killed  it. 

In  the  [Middle  Ages,  other  conditions  ])\\- 
vailed.  Time  had  not  the  same  value.  The 
artisan  neglected  nothing  to  render  perfect 
the  object  which  lie  fashioned.  There  are 
many  individuals  who  form  an  indefinite, 
sublime  idea  of  art.  and  persuade  themselves 
that    it    is  above  and   indepcndi'iit   of  small 


( 'riii-ilix  in  iril«l«'<l  ^ii\i 
Ciitli.-.lrul  of  Sili> 


from  thf    Tri'itMirj 


.f'  lli< 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


tlmlu•^  of  ciMf'tMiiaiisliij).      Tliis  is  a   o-ra\i' 
ciTor.      Art  resides  first  of  all  in  a   fa\iltless 


■^JSE^JJJ'll:; 


'^X>0W. 


The  siwnlk-(l  "t'liuh f  Saiiit-K'ciM.v  " ;  fnini  tin- 

Tn-:i'<iir.v  i.f  tin'  Crilli.  .IimI  of  K',.ini> 

execution,  in  a  ])erfect  knowk'dg'e  of  tccli- 
iiical  jirocrssis,  «  lutlKT  it  is  a  ([uostion  of  a 
picture  or  of  a  |e\veM)o\.  These  terliiiieal 
processes  wcri'  traiisimtted  from  i^'eiieratioii 
to  generation  ni  tlie  workshops  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ao-es.  'i'he  practical  study  of  tlie  craft 
constituted  tlie  laitire  a])j)rentii-esliip  ot'  the 
aspirants  to  ai't.  ^^'hen  the  apjirentici' 
knew  his  craft  thoi'ong'hlv.  he  g'amed  the 
mastership,  and  it  resultt'd  that  the  ohjects 
made  with  so  much  care  and  material  labor 
were  also  works  of  art. 

In  our  o\\  n  time,  art  is  taught  m  schools. 
]{ut  technical  ])rocess  has  deg'enerated  to 
nothinfi,-.  What  industrial  art  shall  we 
leave  after  us.  in  s])ite  of  the  lessons  g'iven 
in   our  schools  l)\'   verv   learned  artists  who 


write  Ai't  with  a  capital  A?  Let  us  first 
learn  from  the  ^liddle  Ages  respect  for 
qualities  of  craftsmanship  which  are  indis- 
peiisahle  in  the  industrial  arts,  and  without 
whicli  tlie  highest  gifts  of  invention  and 
I'ompoMt ion  are  useless. 

We  >how  first  in  illustration  two  antiques 
mounted  in  the  twelfth  century,  at  the  time 
« hen,  under  the  influence  of  the  abbot 
Suger.  minister  of  T.ouis  ^  II.,  the  arts  re- 
ceived great  encouragement  in  France. 

In  the  eighteenth  century,  under  I.,ouis 
X\'.  and  Louis  X\'I..  lieautiful  Chinese 
porcelain  vases  were  mounted  ni  chiseled 
bronze.  Such  are  now  highly  prized  by 
connoisseurs.  In  the  twelfth  century  the 
degree  of  relilleiilellt  was  e(iual,  if  not  su- 
pei-ior.  There  were  antique  vases  of  por- 
pliyiy  or  rock-crystal  mounted  in  ])recious 
metal,  or  classic'  cameos  framed  in  gold  and 
precious  stones.  ()f  these  cert;iin  ])ieces 
h.-ive  been  preserved. 

The  first  example  which  we  illustrate 
(Plate  1)  comes  from  the  old  l^reasury  of 
Saint  Denis,  and  is  now  in  the  Museum  of 
the  Loii\re.  It  was  mounted  in  silver,  at 
the  middle  of  the  twelfth  Century.  It  shows 
the  (lecor.iti\e  taste  peculiar  to  the  times 
and  the  methods  of  work  then  employed. 
As  in  the  earlier  centuries,  uncut  gems  were 
held  in  high  favor:  garnets,  amethysts,  tur- 
quoises, sapphires  and  opals  were  encrusted 
in  the  metal.  This  is  a  decorative  method, 
characteristic  of  the  barbarian  styles  and 
observed  from  the  jVIerovingian  period 
downward.  Instituted  by  craftsmen  of  un- 
erring taste,  it  produced  a  rich  and  striking 
effect.  I  see  no  reason  why  the  artists  of 
our  own  time  should  not  return  to  it,  and 
why  they  should  not  study  from  this  point 
of  \  iew    the  work  of  tlie  craft.smen  in  the 


118 


THE    SIL\  KKSMITIIS    Al{r 


jirccious  metals  up  to  tlu>  twelf'tli  centurv. 
\Ve  shall  present  here  examples  of  the  same 
style  more  accentuated  and  complete. 

We  find,  also,  upon  the  mountiniif  of  the 
vase,  applied  silver  ornaments  in  relief,  siicli 
as  occur  throughout  this  period.  The  man- 
ner in  whicii  thev  are  either  riveted  or  sol- 
dered to  the  hackfjjround  is  very  remark- 
able. But  aside  from  the  workmanshij), 
every  one  capable  of  appreciating  artistic 
things,  recognizes  the  beauty  and  l)readth 
of  style  of  the  vase,  the  bold  character  of 
the  ornament,  the  accentuation  of  its  con- 
tours. We  should  carefully  study  Hie 
models  of  this  period  to  understand  what 
style  is,  to  appreciate  the  delicacy  of  taste 
which  can  be  emplojxd  in  the  composition 
of  an  object  of  art. 

The  following  example  (Plates  II  and 
III)  is  again  an  antique  vase,  this  time  in 
porphyry,  belonging  to  the  first  half  of  the 
twelfth  century,  and  known  as  the  Suger 
\'ase.  It  is  preserved  in  the  ^luseum  of  the 
I.ouvre.  This  piece  of  gilded  silver  is  one 
of  the  treasures  of  the  Apollo  Gallery,  in 
which  arc  assembled  all  tiie  objects  of  art 
in  the  Louvre.  It  has  a  character  wliollv 
different  from  any  of  the  other  pieces  wjiicii 
we  illustrate,  and  it  shows  how  perfect! v 
tiic  art  of  the  twelfth  century  could  inter- 
l)ret  animate  Nature.  There  are  no  geo- 
metric designs,  no  uncut  gems,  no  volutes 
or  spirals.  An  eagle  is  represented.  The 
neck  continues  the  neck  of  the  vase,  the 
wings  arc  attached  to  the  liandles,  the  vase 
itself,  supported  by  powerful  claws,  does 
not  lose  its  original  character.  It  is  a  work 
of  striking  individuality  and  singular 
force.  The  head  rises  majestically;  the 
widely  opened  beak  is  effective;  aljove  all. 
the  eye,  set  in  the  flat  skull,  is  eloquent  and 


threatening.  It  is  a  magnificent  work  of 
art,  unequalcd  in  modern  limes  in  both 
strength  and  restraint.  To  find  its  rivals 
we  must  seek  among  the  bronzes  of  the 
great  periods  of  Japanese  art. 

In  the  series  of  crosses  with  figures  of 
tlie  same  period  we  give  a  ])iece  from  the 
Treasury  of  the  cathedral  of  Sens,  which 
is  of  a  sinq)le  and  beautiful  design  (Plate 
n).  An  opal  is  encrusted  at  the  extrem- 
ity of  e.u'h  of  the  branches  of  the  cross  upon 


'rit«-(-*si(.iiiiI   (TOSH   (4'rt'i\  rlc  <']atnii(irai- 1  froiri  tin 
riiuri'lt  uf  N'tlru  Duiiif  at  Saini  *  ►im-r 


II!) 


^ 


lii-li.|\i;ir.v  ill  iril.l.il  >ih cr:  frmn  iIm-  rliun-h  ,,f  S:iint  .M.-iclion,  at  Har-Mir-A>ibi 


■I  JO 


TliK    Sll.N  KKSMI'MIS    ART 


which  tlic  Christ  is  extended,  at'tir  the  man- 
ner of"  the  statues  of  the  time.  Crosses  of 
the  twelfth  century  are  still  numerous  in 
I'rance  and  Germany. 

But  let  us  fii-st  examine  attentively  the 
series  of  works  in  which  the  representation 
of  the  human  figure  does  not  enter.  W'l 
find,  indeed,  fewer  figures  in  tlie  gold  and 
silver  work  of  the  period  which  we  are 
studying,  than  in  the  following  centuries, 
when  the  human  figure  begins  to  he  the 
niost  important  part  of  the  work  of  the 
craftsman  in  the  precious  metals.  (Jener- 
ally  speaking,  the  works  of  the  twelfth 
century  sliow  a  ])urelv  decor.itive  treatment 
which  has  never  been  surpassed. 

As  an  example  of  such  treatment  we  may 
cite  the  chalice  of  Saint  Remy  (Plate  \), 
which  is  preserved  in  the  cathedral  of 
Reims.  It  is  a  characteristic  work  of  the 
twelfth  century,  very  rich  in  decoration. 
exquisitely  finished,  and  treate<l  in  the 
grand  style.  Wc  find  here  jigain,  disposed 
with  sure  and  sumptuous  taste,  the  delicate 
filigree  and  the  uncut  gems  which  ^\^c  have 
observed  in  our  previous  examples.  This 
j)iece  and  the  one  following  it  arc  eloquent 
in  themselves.      No  description  is  necessary. 

The  second  piece,  similar  in  style,  is  the 
Cross  of  Clairmarais  (Plate  A  I),  preserved 
in  the  Treasury  of  the  church  of  Notre 
Dame  at  Saint  Omer.  Tt  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  typical  work  in  precious  metals  of  the 
period.  It  is,  at  all  events,  the  one  which 
gives  the  strongest  impression  of  the  ])ecul- 
iar  style  of  decoration:  the  volutes,  the  ap- 
plied filigree,  the  deeply-.set  stones  so  char- 
acteristic of  the  art  of  the  twelfth  century. 
The  powerful  general  effect,  tiie  strong,  re- 
strained outlines  are  allied  to  the  most  deli- 
cate grace,  to  the  most  aiiundant  richness  of 


]\rliiiuary  ill  triltli-'l   silvtT  'Oin-ii  ami  (■l».>^-»i  \u-rt.-»i; 
from  a  ohurrl)  at  Cliarroux  uii-partnifiit  of  Vii-nntM 

detail.  Scrolls  winding  al)out  the  jirecious 
gems,  terminate  in  clusters  of  berries,  or  in 
floral  forms  resembling  daisies. 

At  Har-snr-Anbe,  we  find  a  beautiful 
exampU'  of  the  same  period.  It  is  a  reli- 
(|Uarv  of  Saint  Alaclou,  in  the  church  (jf 
the  same  name  (Plate  \'II  ).  It  is  of  ele- 
gant l"orm,  rich  also  as  to  decoration,  and. 
like  all  the  works  of  this  period,  it  is  snp- 
j)orted  u])on  a  solid  basi'  of  considerable 
diameter  and  excellent  lines. 

We  now  reach  a  chnniiing  work  t>\'  the 
end  of  tiic  sami'  century.      It   is  a  reli(iuary 

l.'l 


THE   CKAITSIMAN 


in  gilded  silver,  wliit'li  is  one  of  the  treas- 
ures of  the  chui-ch  of  C'harroiix  (Plates 
VIII  and  IX).  It  is  ,i  work  perfect  in 
composition  and  execution.  Plate  ^'III 
represents  the  reliquary  as  closed.  It  is 
decorated  with  silver  filigree  of  exquisite 
workmanship.  The  receptacle,  when  opened. 
(Plate  IX)  shows  two  angels  displa_ying 
the  relics  of  the  saint.  The  front  face  of 
the  plates  of  the  cover  hears  engraved  fig- 
ures of  the  Christ  and  the  kneeling  donors. 
It  is  a  singularity  of  the  art  of  the  ^liddle 
Ages  that  it  almost  never  offers  representa- 
tions of  God.  The  only  form  in  which  He 
.appears,  and  rarely  then,  is  that  t)f  a  hand. 
Was  it  because  the  men  of  that  period  did 
not  d.-ire  to  attem]>t  to  figure  forth  the 
Almightv'"'  I  do  not  believe  that  to  be  thi' 
reason.  The  sculjjtors  and  the  painters  of 
windows  preferred  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
AI.'Ui.  and  His  ^lother,  the  ^'irg•in.  who  wei-c 


Kcliqiijiry  ill  iril"lf"i  ^il\  II-  lopi-ii  ami  i-l(i>t'<l  vif\v>): 
frciii  a  <-liuri-li  :i1  ('liarrnUN  i  ih-partim-iit,  of  X'irlint' I 


nearer  humanitv  and  who  ajipcared  to  them 
the  most  effectual  mediators  between  them 
•and  (iod  the  Father. 

We  present,  as  a  final  example,  a  beauti- 
ful cross  of  the  same  yieriod,  preserved  in 
the  Museum  of  the  Louvre  (Plate  X).  It 
is  a  perfect  type  of  the  silver  work  of  the 
last  part  of  the  twelfth  century.  It  is  dec- 
orated in  filigree  and  uncut  gems,  and  also 
with  figures:  the  crucified  Christ, — not  the 
dying  Savior,  but  the  \'ictor  over  death: 
then,  on  two  branches  rising  from  the  central 
svi])])ort,  St.  John  and  the  Virgin  in  the  atti- 
tude of  grief,  excjuisite  in  line  and  expres- 
sion. Uj)()n  the  foot  of  the  cross  there  are 
plates  of  silver  enamel  in  a  style  wliich  ])ro- 
duced  master])iei'es  of  media'v.-d  art.  But 
,is  this  work  nia\'  he  cl.'issi'd  under  the  head 
(if  rn.'uiu'ling.  rather  than  under  silver,  we 
sli.-dl  not  further  (lescril)e  it. 

We  are  now  to  lea\e  the  twelfth  century. 
Fi-om  the  jjoint  of  \  iew  of  workmanship  in 
gold  and  silver,  it  is  perha]is  the  greatest 
ernturv  that  wr  ini'hidr  in  our  studv.  We 
h,-ne.  therefore,  lingert-d  here,  .and  m;ule  it 
the  suijjeet  of  an  entire  article. 

Beside  the  (|ualitics  which  we  have  al- 
rc.iih'  iintcd  in  the  objects  illustr.ated,  there 
is  yet  one  of  great  im])ortance  of  which  we 
h.ave  not  spoken.  This  is  that  the  objects 
fashioned  at  this  period,  while  differing 
greatly  among  themselves,  have  yet  a  com- 
mon characteristic:  they  were  designed  with 
the  solo  intention  of  discovering  forms  to 
which  the  metal  most  easily  adajits  itself, 
,ind  which,  furthermore,  are  suited  to  the 
pr<i]«)>ed  use  of  the  object.  Neither  forms 
nor  decoration  wi're  borrowed  from  any 
.illied  art.  They  are  peculiar  to  work  in 
the  ])recious  metals.  They  are  excellent. 
It  might  appear  that  to  reserve  for  each 


1  i> 


THE    S1I,\  KHS.MITirs    AIM' 


art  the  forms  jK-ciiliar  to  it  would  l)e  a  sini-       I  lie  finlsliod  tvjus  of  an  art  w 


pic  matter.  In  fact,  iiotliiiiii;  is  more  rare. 
Tiio  arts  incessantly  borrow  from  allied 
arts,  and  the  thin<;'s  Ijorrowed.  for  the  most 
part,  briny  misfortune.  They  seek  to  ap- 
propriate to  themselves  foreion  and  hostile 
forms.  For  exam])le.  woodin  fi:rnilui'e  has 
lon_n'  nnitated  architecture.  Our  dressers 
and  butl'ets  boastfully  display  lines  which 
were  created  for  architecture  pure  and  sim- 
ple, and  architecture  in  stone  only.  Inverse 
l_y,  at  a  certain  i)eriod  of  the  Uenasc'ence. 
the  fa(^ade  of  palaces  inntated  the  fronts  of 
coffers.      Stone  was  treated  like  wood. 

In  work  in  the  ])recious  mitals.  the  same 
conditions  have  obtained.  Heginniny  with 
the  thirteentii  century,  this  art  borrowed 
also  forms  from  architect  uri'.  We  sh.ill  see 
appear  in  objects  wrought  from  metal  the 
pointed  arches,  the  ])innacles.  the  sculp- 
tured gables  peculiar  to  the  (iotliic  style. 
liven  entire  monuments  will  be  imitated. 
We  shall  have  dwarf  chapels  and  miniaturi' 
churches,  the  whole  wrou<i.ht  with  remark- 
able skill  and  delicacy.  But  (herein  lav 
the  danger.  The  art  of  the  smith  in  i)n- 
cious  metals  departed  from  the  rules  which 
had  goycrned  it  up  to  that  time,  rendering- 
it  so  beautiful  throughout  the  twelfth  cent- 
ury. It  was  about  to  lose  its  originality. 
We  .sjiall  meet  with  e.\cellent  work  in  the 
three  closing  centuries  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
But  we  siiall  find  no  more  works  as  perfect 
as  those  whicii  nvc  have  already  examined. 

It  is,  tiicrefore,  the  art  of  the  twelfth 
century  tliat  the  modern  craftsman  nnist 
study  with  the  greatest  care.  For,  it  is 
necessary  in  all  things,  to  reach  jirimarv 
sources.  It  is  there  that  we  find  the  purest 
and  clearest  water.  The  work  in  the  pre- 
cious metals  of  the  twelfth  century  offers  us 


in  all  it 


s  ricinie.ss,  as  also  ui  al 


liich  was 
its  purit 


then 
v. 


I'atrinrcli.il  i-r.i-.^  in  l'iI'I'  '1  ^iK 
it".  I.I'  ihf  Loiivri- 


I-.  H'pw    In   tin-  u'ltlli-i-. 


I.'U 


A. 


1^ 


'.•'-fi    *  --*■ 


l^-C^ 


--    "^v' 


tWA^.?^^>'-^ 


¥?"ljhri:k^  *" 


^  /» 


■  N 


A. 


llil.    :,.  I'.I.MlkrI     nl     W,.V.H     sk 


PRLMITI\'E  IW  EXTIOXS 


GKOIiC.K  \Vn\l;l()N    .1  AMI'.S 


WHEN  docs  the  age  of  inven- 
tion begin.'  Could  we  but 
look  back  into  tlie  far  awav 
dim  ages  of  the  past  and 
watcli  tiie  ascent  of  man  from  barbarism  to 
civilization,  how  fascinating  the  occupation 
would  be!  Especially  would  our  keenest 
interest  be  aroused  at  those  epoch-making- 
periods  in  which  some  small  but  important 
discoverv  was  on  the  vcrfjc  of  bein"'  made : 
when  humanity  was  stumbling  toward  some 
great  fact  that,  once  seized,  was  to  revolu- 
tionize future  methods.  Who  would  not 
delight  in  such  occupation,  were  he  able  to 
take  with  him  into  those  dark  days  the  light 
of  present  day  knowledge.'' 

How  did  men  invent  fire.-'  \\'lien,  where 
and  how  did  they  first  make  any  kind  of 
clothing  or  house?  Under  what  circum- 
stances did  they  fashion  the  first  weapon.' 
When  consciously  grind  corn.'  Weave  bas- 
kets.- Make  pottery.^  And  the  thousand 
and  one  other  things  that  the  little  bronze 
women  and  men  have  handed  down  to  us.^ 

I  can  conceive  of  few  things  as  interest- 
ing as  these  in  all  human  progress.  How 
one's  heart  would  beat  in  high  expectation, 
knowing  what  was  to  come,  when  the  naked 
aborigine  first  began  to  shape  a  bow  and 
arrow,  a  throwing  .stick,  a  war  club,  a  bat- 
tle-axe! How  many  attempts  there  were 
before  success  crowned  the  first  efforts :  or. 
alas !  how  often  the  thing  had  to  be  given 
up  until  some  future  time,  perliaps  cent- 
uries  later!     How   the   primitive   inventor, 


j)rompted  i)y  sonu-  filling,  he  knew  not 
what,  working  solely  for  his  own  interest 
and  profit,  without  thought  of  financial  re- 
ward, or  the  liiy-Jur  incitement  of  tloins 
good  to  his  fellows,  blindly  groped  along, 
confident  that  he  <'ould  succeed  where  suc- 
cess had  never  yet  beckoned:  assured  that 
he  could  accomplish,  wlurc  none  as  vet  had 
accomplished ! 

In  the  arts  of  hunting  and  war  man  has 
always  been  th(>  inventor — those  were  his 
])rerogatives.  In  the  arts  of  ])eace,  the 
domestic  arts,  woman  was  the  pioneer;  she 
was  in  her  peculiar  province.  It  is  a  tend- 
ency of  our  latter-day  civilization  that  man 
claims  chief tainshij)  in  the  arts  of  peace; 
but  in  reality  he  is  there  an  intruder,  an 
usui'per.  \\'oman  was  the  originator,  the 
pioneer,  the  inventor.  ^lan  is  the  reaper, 
the  enjover,  and,  sad  to  say,  often  the 
claimant  and  the  boaster,  forgetful  that  he 
inli(  riled  u  hat  he  has  and  knows  from  his 
(juieter  and  less  arrogant    feiiude  ancestor. 

Diu'ing  the  last  few  years  a  great  wave 
of  righteous  sentiment  has  been  aroused  in 
favor  of  the  Noi'th  American  Indian.  As 
never  before  in  our  history,  we  are  seeking 
to  do  ji.'stice  to  the  |)eo])les  we  have  dispos- 
.sessed.  And  not  nurclv  in  the  lower  forms 
of  justice — as  honesty  i:i  treating  with 
them  about  their  lamls — bnt  in  the  higher 
forms,  such  as  the  I'lcognilion  of  what  j)or- 
tion  of  our  advarici-ment  we  o«e  to  their 
hitherto  almost  unrecognized  struggles  ami 
labors. 


I.'.! 


THE    CRAFTSIMAX 


W'l'  jiriilc  ourM'lvcs  upon  our  advanccil 
civilization,  and  in  ^onK'  things  trutlit'ullv. 
it"  not  wisely.  But  how  many  of  us  liave 
ever  considered  tile  questions:  To  what  do 
we  owe  our  hiyli  position  among  the  civil- 
izations of  the  world?  Where  tlid  our  civ- 
ilization come  from?  Who  first  groped 
the  wa^-  out  of  primitive  ignorance,  and 
made  our  present  methods  possible?     Some- 


I'jir.  1      < 'liiirirtiut\  i  \v..in;iii  I. II  ihf   ('..Itiriulo  River 
|ir<'!);iriin.'  splints  foi-  huskct  makilii^ 

one  had  to  begin.  The  trackless  country 
is  not  built  over  with  cities  all  at  once. 
First,  the  exj)loivr  must  go  over  it;  then 
follow  the  jiioneer  and  colonizer;  finally, 
when  everything  is  known  to  be  reasonably 
safe,  the  multitudes  pour  in.  So  it  is  in 
the  march  of  the  world's  civilization.  There 
have  been  explorers  to  blaze  the  trails,  and 
pioneers  to  suggest  ])ossibilities,  and,  in 
our   race   struggU's,   the   little   brown   man 


and  woman  whom  we  know  as  North  Amer- 
ican Indians,  have  played  a  noteworthy 
part.  It  is  high  time,  therefore,  tliat  we 
I'ecognize  this  and  express  our  gratitude 
for  what  they  have  done. 

We  too  often  think  of  our  primitive 
tribes  as  dull,  stolid,  unthinking,  unimag- 
inative. Nothing  can  be  farther  from  the 
facts.  They  are  (juick-witted,  observant, 
thinking,  imaginative,  poetic.  The}^  set 
the  ball  of  progress  rolling;  indeed,  they 
first  made  the  ball,  then  started  it  and  indi- 
cated its  general  direction. 

(ii\en  a  Franklin,  a  Joseph  Henrv.  and 
a  Morse,  the  work  of  Edison,  Gray,  Bell, 
.Marconi  and  Pupin  is  possible.  But  where 
would  the  second  group  have  begun  if  the 
first  had  never  been?  One  mind  may  iii- 
riiience  millions.  Stephenson  and  Fulton 
changed  the  history  of  the  world;  yet  they 
were  only  men,  not  gods :  men  whose  brains 
weighed  but  an  infinitesimal  fraction  more 
than  those  of  other  men. 

It  is  to  the  Indian  that  we  owe  the  begin- 
nings of  the  things  we  have  carried  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree  of  perfection.  Thev 
were  the  original  inventors,  the  suggestors, 
the  "imaginators"  ( if  I  may  coin  an  ex- 
pression). We.  the  highly  cultured  and 
civilized,  are  tlie  followers;  they  the  lead- 
ers. We  reap  the  rewards  in  the  fields  they 
grubbed,  plowed,  harrowed  and  sowed.  A 
second  crop  is  easy  when  the  first  hard  work 
of  clearing  is  done.  So,  while  we  compla- 
cently boast  of  the  crops  we  now  reap,  let 
us  not  forget  the  day  when  our  fields  were 
wild  swam])S,  rugged  mountain  slopes,  or 
densely  covered  forest-growths.  And  in 
remembering,  let  us  give  due  thanks  to  the 
long-ago  aboriginal  toiler,  wlio,  imcon- 
sciouslv  working  to  improve  his  own  condi- 


l'i(i 


rHLMlTIVK   i\\  Kxrioxs 


tioii.  unconsciously  workcil  to  improve  ours 
also. 

This  upward  impulse  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  facts  of  all  life.  "Onwanl. 
ever  onward  I  I'pward.  ever  upward!"  the 
iiidiien  impulse  uryes,  and  the  races  have 
been  compelled  to  obey.  Necessity  may 
have  been  the  spur.  'I'liat  matters  not. 
Something;  kept  ur^-ino-.  and  we  are  what 
we  are  to-da_v  because  of  it.  and  because  the 
little  bron/e  man  and  woman  obeyed  imper- 
ative commands  from  some  hioli  and  un- 
known power. 

It  must  have  been  in  the  early  days  of 
the  race  that  a  vehicle  for  carryino;  was 
first  discovered.  The  bird's  nest,  the  tan- 
gled vines,  the  spider's  wei), — who  knows.' 
— may  have  suggested  to  tlu>  uiulixtlopid 
mind  of  the  early  woman  of  the  race  the 
first  net  or  basket,  and  aroused  in  her  the 
desire  to  construct  something  that  sliouid 
enable  her  to  carrv  niaiiv  small  things  to- 
getlier.  The  desire  awakened,  she  was 
forced  to  carry  it  out.  Howr  What  ma- 
terial could  she  use?  What  shape  follow?' 
.\t  the  very  outset  she  was,  by  necessity,  an 
.•idaj)ter,  an  inventor.  So  she  set  to  work, 
trying  a  variety  of  materials,  experiment- 
ing again  and  again,  until  she  found  what 
she  judged  to  be  the  best.  And  now  we 
have  learned  that  tliosc  native  materials 
which  she  judged  "best"  for  constructive 
purposes,  modern  science  has  accepted  as 
having  no  superiors.  Rapidly  looking 
over  tlie  field  of  the  Indian  basket-maker  of 
to-day,  we  find  that  .she  has  tested  every 
available  material.  She  has  covered  the 
ground  most  thoroughly.  The  s])lint  of 
willow,  cedarbark,  spruce-root,  yucca-fiber, 
ash,  hickory,  slougli-root,  tule-root,  corn- 
husk,  squaw-grass,   inaiden-hair   firn   stem, 


red-in:d,  and  a  thousand  and  one  other  veg- 
etable growths  cause  the  stuilent  to  wonder 
at  the  wide  reach  of  the  Amerind's  knowl- 
edge of  maferi.ils.  TIkti-  is  nolliing  th.it 
she  has  left  untested.  I'lviry  ])ossii)lc  arti- 
cle has  been  tried  and  proven. 

Having  obtained  tin-  best  possii)le  ui.de- 
rial,  the  primitive  woman  |)roceetied  to  the 
invention  of  forms.  Mere  Nature  was  her 
teacher.    The  primitive  art-instinct  is  to  imi- 


Kiir.  'J.     Ilopi  wuinan  wt-avin:;  Im^kii 

fate.  The  eyes  fall  ujion  some  object  that 
is  ])leasing.  The  object  arouses  a  desire  to 
co])y  it.  True  art  insjjiration  can  i)e  best 
obtained  in  Nature.  All  the  great  masters 
of  our  later  times  li.ave  returned  to  the 
gi'eat  source  of  life.  Cloister-fed  f.-incie- 
may  have  pleased  cloister-trained  minik, 
but  the  great  world  has  never  been  moved 
bv  anything  but  that  whi<'h  has  been  in- 
>pin(l    bv    Nature.      It    is    "one    touch    of 


Ij; 


THE    CUAFTS.MAX 


Xatiirr  that  iiiako  tliu  uiiolc  \\(irlcl  kin." 
Our  lianiiful  (li\  i  ri^'encics  lie  in  heiiiij;  arti- 
ticiai.  Tlie  Ainrrind.  fi)rtunatcl_v,  had  no 
art  schools;  no  tfachcrs,  with  tlu'nrirs  and 
systems  deflecting'  the  mind  from  I'lidetiled 
soui'i'cs  of  inspiration:  no  hooks  confnsmu; 
liv  their  attempted  explanations.  \o  I  slie 
had  nothing,'  hut  pure.  s\\eet.  rui;-i;ed.  tern- 
pest-tossi'd.   sun-kissed    Nature.      Nature  in 

.all     her    m Is.       .Motliei-    N.aturc  :     I'ather 

Nature;  sunshine  and  storm;  everlasting- 
hills  and  e.arth(|uakes  ;  waviiifj;  tjrass-tields 
and  tornadoes;  Howiui;'  streams  and  tidal 
waves;  toueriuj^'  trees  and  modest  flowers. 
Mere  was  her  school  of  .art  .and  desii;'n  ;  here 
Were  her  models.  She  s.aw  the  spider's  wcl). 
and  she  constructed  tlu'  "reiLa"  or  net.  She 
saw  ;i  n'onrd.  and  pi'oceeiled  to  iii.ake  a 
water  hottle  sh.aped  like  it.  and  thus  invent- 
ed a  sh.ape  strut-tnr.al  .and  then'fcu-e  perma- 


nent :  .at  once  useful  and  graceful.  For, 
should  this  Vessel  f.all  from  the  saddle,  such 
is  its  shape  th;it  it  would  inunedi.atelv  right 
itself,  so  that  ijut  little  of  its  precious  con- 
tents would  lie  wasted:  a  desideratum  in  the 
desert,  where  water  is  most  valuable. 

Thus,  one  hv  one,  nature-shajies  were 
ado))ted,  until  now  the  number  .and  variety 
of  them  are  almo-^t  bevond  enumer.ation. 
The  shapes  alone  of  a  good  basketry  collec- 
tion would  number  many  hunilreds.  And, 
remarkable  to  say. — or,  rather,  it  would  be 
remark.able,  w ei'e  it  not  that  N.ature  never 
ei'rs,  .and  th.at  in  cop\'ing  Nature  the 
^Vmeruid  has  avoided  our  errors — there  is 
not  .1  single  shape  that  is  ugly  or  inappro- 
pri.ate  to  the  «cn'k  for  which  it  is  needed. 
\Vater-bottle.  treasure-basket,  cooking- 
b;i-,ket,  mush-bowl.  carrving-basket,  meal- 
fr.ay,  hat,  roasting-bowl,  gambling-plaque, 
fish-b;isket  :  .all  are  jierfecf  ni  s]iape,  .and  in 
adaptation  to   use. 

'I'he  Indian  wom.an.  h.i\'ing  chosen  her 
m.aterial  and  iii\ented  her  sh.ajjes,  next  con- 
sidei-ed  the  kind  of  stitches  to  be  put  into 
liir  work.  .Nature  did  not  give  lier  models 
from  which  closelv  to  copy  here,  so  she  ex- 
jierimeufed  .and  invented.  The  spider  wel) 
was  to  lua'  a  mere  suggestion,  but  that  is 
.all.  So  also  the  l)ird"s  nest.  Therefore, 
our  patient  inventm'  s.at  down,  luidiscour- 
aged  l.v  lua'  task.  and.  year  after  year. 
I'aithful  and  ]iatient,  she  tried,  again  and 
.'ig.'iin,  e\'erv  we.'ixe  .-ind  ^titeh  that  occurred 
to  her.  Who  c;in  imagine  what  this  meant? 
Which  of  us,  to-dav,  would  like  to  be  re- 
quired to  invent  ,'i  new  stitch  or  weave.-"  At 
first,  one  natur.'dly  thinks  that  there  c;ui 
be  few  varietit's  of  stitches;  yet  the  North 
.\merican  Indian  invented  the  sim])le  mat 
wi'.'ive,  and  then  played  yariations  upon  it 


riu.MiTn  K  i\\K\  rioNs 


l)v  cli;ui<>Mii<i-  till'  ordiT  ot"  intersect  ion  of 
the  splints ;  siie  passed  to  the  net  weave, 
witli  its  intinitude  of  clianges;  tlie  phiit  or 
braid  witli  its  <jreat  diversity;  tiie  coil  w  itji 
its  score  or  more  of  varieties;  the  wei)  with 
its  endless  series  of  modifications.  Indeed,  it 
may  confidently  be  said  that  there  is  not  a 
single  stitch  or  weave  known  to  modern  art. 
made  with  loom  however  complicated,  that 
the  Indian  woman  did  not  invent,  and  has 
not  had  in  actual  use  for  cent\iries.  Is  she 
not.  then,  entitled  to  our  esteem  and  grati- 
tude for  her  accomplishments  in  this  direc- 
tion, i'ov  what  would  the  man  of  to-dav  be 
without  his  textiles  varied?  He  is  indebted 
to  the  Indian  woman,  as  to  other  invintors 
of  j)rimitive  times,  for  that  which  givt's 
him  his  clothing,  napery,  bedding,  and 
ujjholsterv. 

Hasketrv  and  fabric  weaving  are  closelv 
related.  It  is  probable  that  basketry  was 
invented  first,  and  that  weaving  came  much 
later.  T'ndoubtcdly,  the  first  garments, 
after  fig  leaves,  were  skins  of  animals. 
Men  killed  the  animals,  and  tiny,  togethei' 
with  the  women,  dressed  the  skins ;  though, 
as  belonging  to  the  province  of  the  hunter, 
it  was  purely  optional  with  tlic  woman 
whether  or  not  she  touched  the  skiu.  'Ihis 
division  is  clearly  marked  even  to  this  day 
among  the  Ilavasupais:  every  man  dress- 
ing the  skins  which  are  the  nsult  of  his 
own  hunting,  and  the  women  having  no 
part  in  their  preparation.  The  ])rocess  is 
simi)le,  yet  ])erfect.  No  machinery  or 
modern  process  c;in  ])ro(luce  hcttii-.  if  as 
good,  buckskin,  as  that  which  is  made  by 
these  jjrimitive  people.  Its  (juality  is 
known  and  coveted  by  tribes  a  thousand 
miles  away.  The  green  skin  is  soaked  in 
water  until   the  hair   is   loose.      Then,   with 


a  ])nir  oi  ji-i-i-xo-o  (bone  knives  made  from 
the  ribs  of  a  horse),  the  skin  is  scraped  un- 
til perfectly  clean.  .\nother  brief  soaking 
and  tile  skin  is  nadv  to  lie  dre>sed.  'i'liis 
is  ilone  by  pulling,  slrilching  and  working 
the  skin  lutween  the  fingers,  hour  after 
hour,  until  it  is  as  soft  and  pliable  as  de- 
sired. M;iiiy  a  time  at  .-i  jiow-wow  or 
council,  I  have  seen  the  iiu-ii  occupii'tl  in 
quietly  rubbing  and  stretching  the  buck- 
skin which  tluv  had  in  ])nparati()n.      (See 

I'ig-.  .'i.) 

^Vmong  the  Ilavasupais  also,  one  ma\' 
see  the  means  still  in  use  by  which  pottery 
probably  came  into  existence.  The  term, 
"B.isketry  the  Mother  of  Tottery,"  is  more 
real  than  imaginative.  The  basket  was  the 
matrix  of  the  pot.  Not  long  ago  I  saw  a 
Ilavasiipai  woman  parching  corn  in  a 
basket.      This  slii'  lined   with  a  mixture  of 


iipiii  \\i'iiiaii  ii;ir'-lnnL'  •■'•rti  Inn  liif.kt! 


li'J 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


n.-ukI  anil  flav,  in  order  t(i  prevent  it  from 
crackin;;',  and  tluii  tlirrw  into  it  a  handful 
of    corn    and    a    scatterinti'    of    live    coals. 


Fiir.fi.      X;i\-;iti.>  [li'll;ili  v)iiiitiiiii: 

]{lo\vino'  into  the  basket,  slie  kept  the  con- 
tents vvliirlini;'  i)v  a  circular  motion  of  the 
JiarKJs,  until  tlie  corn  was  properlv  ])arclied. 
Finallv,  with  a  de.xtrous  swiny,  the  corn 
and  coals  were  separated;  the  latter  was 
thrown  out,  and  the  parched  corn  remainetl. 
In  due  prot-ess  of  time  the  clav  lining', 
under  siK'li  treatment,  hardens,  hakes,  and 
separates  itself  from  the  h.asket.  What 
must  have  hi'en  the  th(.ni<;-ht  of  the  first 
Indian  corn  parclier  when  she  found  a  new 
and  convenient  vessel,  made  \vithout  tlie 
lahor  of  weaviiii;-,  shaped  and  |)erfect  at 
her  li.ands,  readv  lor  carrvinjj,'  water  or 
anvtliing  else  that  she  chose  to  ])lace  there- 
in?     That    was    a    triumph    of    accidental 


iuMiition.  But  scientific  research  has 
shown  that,  vohuitarilv,  for  centuries, 
aboriginal  pottery  was  niatle  in  basket  or 
net  moulds,  and  I  have  myself  seen  the 
Zuni.  Laguiia,  Hopi,  Navaho,  Aconia  and 
other  Iruhan  j)otters,  coiling  the  clay  in 
ropes  in  exact  imitation  of  their  method  of 
making  hasketrv. 

liut  now  let  us  hrieflv  return  to  tex- 
tiles. Before  skins  were  dressed,  they 
w  ere  Used  for  clothing :  first,  initloubtedly, 
in  their  rude  entirety,  afterward  subjected 
to  some  jirocess  of  cutting,  and  sha])ing  to 
the  l)o<lv  of  the  wearer.  But  this  assumes 
the  skins  to  \iv  of  a  size  large  enough  to 
be  so  used.  What  of  the  skins  of  smaller 
animals,  such  as  the  go])her,  beaver,  rabbit, 
raccoon,  etc.''  'I'lu'se  are  too  small  for 
garments.  Something  was  necessarv  to 
make  them  broadiv  useftd.  So  the  wits  of 
the  ]irimitive  inventors  were  set  to  work, 
and  how  sl(jw  ly  or  how  rapidly  the  idea 
came  we  do  iKjt  know,  but,  eventually,  we 
find  the  aborigine  taking  the  .small  skins, 
and  sewing  or  tying  them  together  luitil  he 
had  a  long  rope:  then,  on  a  crude  frame, 
actually  weaving  them  into  a  blanket,  such 
as  that  worn  l)y  the  ]\Iohave  Indian  in 
Fig.  5. 

Later  came  the  spinning  and  weaving  of 
vegetable  fibre,  and  what  a  memorial  we 
owe  to  the  long  forgotten,  if  ever  known, 
discoverers  of  these  processes!  !Mv  heart 
has  often  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  the  great 
monuments  of  the  world  erected  in  honor  of 
the  slayers  of  mankind,  our  warriors ;  and 
I  have  silently  shed  tears  as  I  have  watched 
loving  hands  strew  the  graves  of  uid<nown 
soldiers  with  flowers.  But  now  when  I  see 
the  mausoleums,  triumphal  arches,  columns, 
statues,  memorial  bronzes,  I  say  to  myself: 


i:i() 


rKI.MITn'K    1\\  l.X  I'lOXS 


"How  unjust,  liow  foolish  is  mankind  I 
Scores  of  inonunionts  to  the  slayers  ot"  men, 
juul  nothing-  hut  curses  ami  anathemas  for 
the  busy-minded  inventors  of  flie  arts  of 
peace.  If  we  must  lionor  tiie  slayers,  hv 
no  means  let  us  forget  the  conservers  of 
life." 

IIow  did  the  primitive  spinner  work? 
Watch  him  to-day.  He  is  a  Navaho. — 
lie  or  liis  wife,  sometimes  one,  sometimes  tiie 
other.  The  process  followed  is  the  primi- 
tive one  invented  in  the  dawn  of  history. 
The  Navaho  and  his  neiohhor,  the  Ilopi. 
grew  and  spun  cotton  long  l)efore  a  uhih> 
man's  dreams  saw  a  passage  to  India  by 
way  of  the  North  West.  When  Spanish 
colonization  began,  and  sheep  were  l)r()ught 


into  this  Western  world,  three  inuuired  or 
more  years  ago.  llopi  and  Navidio  were 
(|uiek  to  see  the  advantage  the  long,  (ine 
wool  .•.ta|)le  had  over  the  fiiin'  of  the  cotton. 
IJut  (HMginally  it  was  yucca-hbre  and  cot- 
ton. And  the  s|)inning  wheel.''  See  it  bv 
tile  side  of  the  Navaho  in  I  ig.  ().  It  is  a 
smooth  stick  on  which  a  circular  disc  of 
wood  is  fastened.  It  is  held  in  the  left  hand 
and  rapidly  twirled  on  the  knee,  with  the 
cotton  or  wool  in  tiie  right  hand;  so  that 
the  yarn  can  be  stretched  to  the  rrcjuired 
thickness. 

l-",\er\  tiling  is  now  readv  for  tiie  weav- 
ing. The  loom  on  which  the  skin  bhinket, 
alreadv  described  w.as  made.  was.  jierhaps, 
the    iiii)>t    priinifivi'    of    all.       It     is    still    in 


Kiir.  ".     I'riinitiv**  loom  iiHcd  l»y  th<-  Naviilio  uikI  Ilopi  lii<liaiis 


i:<l 


THE   CRAFTSIMAX 


usf  liv  .several  tnlirs  of  Indians  ol'  tliu 
youtlnvest.  It  consists  ot"  four  pi-'n's 
(Irivrn  into  the  !j;ronii(l  to  liold  tlie  tour 
fonu'i-s  of  the  article  to  lie  woven,  and 
eom])letelv  around  tliese  one  strand  of  the 
skin  ro|)e  is  tij^-jitiv  stretched.  'I'his  forms 
the  edi^e  for  sides,  top  and  hottoin.  and 
tile  to|i  and  hottoin  strands  also  act  as 
hascs  for  the  stretching-  of  the  war]) 
strands.  As  soon  ;is  these  .'ire  in  pl.-ice,  the 
weft  strands  are  wovt^n  over  and  under  the 
\\.ir)>.  until  the  whole  square  is  filled.  I^ittle 
li\  little.  iiii)iro\  emeiits  on  this  priinitive 
loom  were  iii.ade.  The  lieddle  was  invented. 
.111(1  .-111  artu'le  of  maiiv  jiaeres.  with  m.anv 
illustr.it ions,  could  he  « I'ltteii  upon  this 
suhject  .alone.      The  primitive  loom  as  it   is 


used  by  the  Xavalio  ;ind  Ilopi.s  of  to-dav 
is  a  crude  and  simple,  vet  most  effective 
contriv.-ince.  On  it  the  most  marvellous 
blankets  are  woven.  I  have  carried  water 
seven  miles  in  a  blanket  of  Indian  con- 
striK'tion.  Yet  the  whole  affair  i.s  made 
by  the  Indi.an  woman  weaver  with  ;i  i'vw 
])oles  cut  from  the  nearest  ^-rove,  antl  a 
t'oujile  of  r.-iw  hide  ro])es.  IXsinp;  two  of 
the  heaviest  ])oles  as  upri^'hts,  she  fa.stcns 
the  third  across  the  top,  and  a  fourth 
across  the  bottom.  Below  the  U])per  cross- 
beam, another  be.am  is  suspended  h\  lash- 
iiiys  of  rawhides,  and  to  this  the  yarn  beam 
is  fastened.  On  this  yarn  beam  the  ver- 
tical threads  of  the  war])  .are  tied  to  a 
coi'res])ondiiiL;'    beam    .answering'    the    same 


;ililiiiir  a  hoiivr 


i:^ 


i:« 


THE    CRAFTSIMAN 


j)Lirposc  at  the  Ixittoni.  Tlir  rawliidc 
above  serves  to  draw  the  tlireads  tio-ht,  and 
wlien  thus  fixed,  the  loom  is  ready  for  the 
weaver.      (See  Fiff.  7.) 

Witli  lier  different  •-.shuttles"  of  yarn 
she  sits  on  ti)e  fj;round,  tadcu'  fashion,  and. 
thrustino-  a  >tiei<  throuf;-h  tlie  warp,  divides 
the  cords,  so  that  slie  can  run  througii 
them  witiiout  delay  the  (htferent  tlireads  of 
the  wool.      'J"he  "sluittle"   is  a   simple  ])iece 


of  stiek.  on  the  end  of  wliieh  the  yarn  has 
been  wound.  As  soon  as  the  thread  is 
pl.'U'ed  in  j)osition.  ;i  "iiatteii  stiek"  (  u  hieh. 
like  the  woof  stick,  is  al\\a\s  kept  in  the 
warp)  is  hroug'ht  down  uith  such  great 
force  as  to  wedge  the  thread  into  a  firm  and 
close  position.  And  tluis  everv  tlire.nd  is 
'"battened  down"  with  such  energv  th.at 
one    iloes    not    uonder    to    find    the    blanket 


when  finislied,  im2)ervious  to  the  heaviest 
rains. 

Uf  the  invention  of  designs  for  Indian 
bl.anketry,  basketry  and  pottery  I  hope  to 
write  later.  The  subject  is  one  of  gi'eat 
f.ascinati(m  and  the  more  it  is  studied  the 
more  does  it  revolutionize  many  of  our 
ideas  regarding  the  development  of  the 
aesthetic   faculties. 

1'he  pojiul.ir  conception  of  the  Indian 
is  that  the  man,  the  buck,  is  a  monarch, 
rude  and  savage,  and  tlic  woman,  the  squeaw, 
is  a  slave,  abject  and  servile.  Jake  so  many 
other  "pojiular"  conceptions  based  upon 
ignoraiH'e  or  sujierficial  observation,  this  is 
an  error.  Almost  without  exception,  the 
higher  class  of  explorers,  Livingstone, 
S[)eke,  Burton,  and  otliers,  tell  of  the  free- 
dom and  equality  of  the  primitive  woman. 
I'lie  general  error  seems  to  lia\e  had  its  birth 
and  growth  from  the  failure  of  early 
writers    to    recoi>ni/e    the    fact    th.at    among 

rs  o 

thi'  Indi.ins  .a  distinct  division  of  labor  was 
iinariablv  observed,  and  that  neither  sex 
e\er  intruded  u])on  the  work  of  the  otJier. 
l-'.\en  to-d.-iy  misunderstandings  of  this 
charat'ter  are  constantly  liable  to  arise. 
Sujipose  a  person  unacquainted  with  the 
laistoiiis  of  the  Ho]ii  to  have  witnessed  the 
scene  pii-tured  in  1' ig.  S.  Here  a  score  of 
women  are  seen  engaged  in  building  a 
liouse.  'I'hey  mix  their  own  mortar, 
gather  or  (ju.arrv  their  own  stones,  are 
their  own  hod  carriers,  and  neither  seek  nor 
expect  the  slightest  lielj)  fi-oiii  the  men. — 
who  sit  calmly  smoking  near  them.  With 
such  a  scene  before  him.  the  unacquainted 
observer  would  grow  angi'v  at  the  indolence 
of  the  men.  .and  their  brut.ality  in  compel- 
ling tluir  women  to  do  such  hard  work 
while  thev  sit  idlv  bv. 


13.+ 


PKIMITIVE    IWEXTIOXS 


But  this  would  be  a  waste  of  svmpatliy, 
and  a  clear  evidence  of  the  observer's  igno- 
rance. Hopi  women,  in  building  their 
houses,  do  not  desire  aid  from  the  men. 
The  women  are  the  owniers  of  the  domiciles ; 
therefore,  what  more  natural  than  that 
they  shall  build  them.'' 

This  very  act  of  house-buildintr  is  a 
jiroof  of  the  Hopi  woman's  equality  with 
iier  husband,  and,  possibly,  her  superiority 
over  him.  For  within  the  walls  of  the 
house  she  is  supreme.  Except  the  per- 
sonal, ceremonial,  hunting  and  war  be- 
longings of  her  husband,  everything 
brought  within  belongs  to  her,  or  is  under 
her  control.  Even  the  corn  of  the  field, 
planted  and  gathered  by  her  husband,  once 
put  into  the  corn-storage  room,  is  no 
longer  at  his  disposal. 

With  the  neij;h!)orintr  nomad  Navalio 
tiie  same  equality  of  the  sexes  obtains,  and 
I  can  imagine  the  laugh  of  scorn  that  a 
person  would  meet,  who  would  question  the 
Hopi  or  Navaho  woman  as  to  her  degraded 
and  suljordinate  position. 

Among  the  aborigines,  the  sex  division 
of  labor  was  instituted  according  to  the 
law  of  natural  selection  of  work ;  woman, 
the  home-maker,  the  child-bearer,  remain- 
ing behind,  while  the  men  wont  abroad  to 
hunt  or  to  make  war. 

As  the  food  provider,  the  Indian  woman 
has  always  been  the  beast  of  burden,  ^he 
has  not  only  been  compelled  to  find  the 
food,  but  also  to  transport  it  to  her  home 
(to  this  the  results  of  the  cha.se  arc  the 
main  exception,  woman  never  having  been 
a  hunter).  For  methods  of  transportation 
alone  we  owe  man}-  valuable  inventions  to 
primitive  women,  and  bearing  upon  this 
subject,    Professor   Mason    of    the    Smith- 


sonian Institute,  has  written  n  lengthy 
illustrated  article  of  groat  interest  and 
value. 

The  food  having  hnn  carried  lioiiio,  it 
was  necessary  for  it  to  be  prepared ;  and 
here  was  large  scope  for  the  exercise  of  the 
])rimitive  inventor's  faculties.  How  was 
corn  to  be  ground?  I  low  cooked.''  How 
j)reserved.'  Aboriginal  woman  was  the 
first  miller.      She  took  a  flat  slab  of  rock. 


riiatif  t'r-'tii  l;4\  ;4 

sloj)od  it  to  a  convenient  angle,  took  a 
smaller  slab  to  act  as  a  grinding  stone,  and, 
placing  the  corn  between  the  two,  rubbed 
the  one  rock  over  the  other,  until  the  grain 
became  meal.  Every  Indian  of  the  South- 
west to-da}'  uses  these  primitive  mills,  as 
seen  in  Fig.  9. 

Some  grains  were  found  unfitted  for 
grinding.  They  were  better  crushed  by 
pounding,  and  tho  Indi.in   woiiicii   invented 


THE   CKAFTSMAN 


tlic  mortar  and  pcstlo.  ]\Iaiiy  i>f  the 
mortars  still  in  use  are  made  from  tree 
trunks  cut  oif  near  the  root  and  hollowed 
out,  so  that  the  gnarled  twistings  at  the 
l)ottom  form  a  solid  pounding  base.  (See 
Fig.  10.)  I^ater,  mortars  were  cut  out  of 
solid  rock.  (See  Fig.  11.)  The  process 
was  slow  and  laborious,  and  a  well  prepared 
mortar  meant  the  hard  work  of  many 
months.  On  Santa  Catalina  Island,  just 
off  the  coast  of  Southern  California,  a 
jirimitive  quarry  of  these  mortars  was 
recently  tliscovered.  'J"he  material  is  a 
kinil  of  soap-stone,  and  l)ears  the  marks 
of  the  excavation  of  many  mortars.  Others 
were  in  the  j)rocess  of  renio\al  at  the  time 
of  the  abandonment  of  the  (juarry.  If  one 
could  draw  back  the  veil  of  the  past,  what 
interesting  disclosures  might  this  aban- 
doned fjuarry  i-i'veal !     Was  it  war  or  ])esti- 


Vis.  11a.    .\    Suulhi-i'ii    (';tlir»iniiu   siunr   inortaf  witli 


IciuT  that  moved  the  (juarriers  and  left 
tlieir  work  uncompleted.''  Did  they  start 
to  cross  to  the  main  land  in  their  frail 
boats,  and  meet  death  in  some  sudden 
storm?  Alas,  we  can  only  conjecture,  for 
there  is  no  record  to  tell  us  how  this  change 
came   about. 

The  food  ground,  how  must  it  be  cooked? 
Here  primitive  woman  had  to  use  her  facul- 
ties, and  she  became  an  adept  at  broiling, 
boiling,  steaming  and  baking.  Although 
still  witiiout  potteiT  or  metal  utensils,  the 
Indian  woman  of  to-day  boils  water  in  a 
basket,  heating  it  far  more  quickly  than 
can  be  done  bv  the  means  of  gas  stove  or 
electrical  aj)paratus.  At  her  camp  fire 
she  always  kee})s  a  number  of  fair  sized 
stones,  and  close  by  is  lier  basket  full  of 
water.  As  soon  as  the  stones  are  lieated 
tlioroughlv.  she  takes  a  stick  with  a  loop  at 
one  end.  and,  with  a  tlextrous  twist,  picks 
u])  one  of  the  stones  uj)on  the  loop  and 
throws  it  into  the  basket.  As  long  as  it 
"si/./les,"  she  stirs  it  to  keep  it  from  burn- 
ins  the  bottom  of  the  basket.  When  it  is 
cooled,  it  is  rapidly  jerked  out  and  an- 
other hot  stone  takes  its  ])lace.  In  this 
u;iv  the  water  is  maile  to  boil  quickly. 
Many  times  I  ha\e  seen  acorn  and  other 
iiuish  cooked  in  this  way;  the  hot  stones 
being  stirred  into  the  food  until  it  was 
thoroughly  cooked.      (See  Fig.   1^.) 

Kven  in  the  inventions  of  necessary  toilet 
articles,  the  primitive  woman  has  had  her 
share.  As  we  use  the  delicately  scentei! 
I,ubin"s  or  I'ears's  soap,  we  are  not  liable  to 
he  grateful  to  the  greasy  little  primitive 
woman  of  lono-  eenturies  ago. 

Jkit  we  are  so  indebted.  It  was  she,  not 
our  refined  ancestors,  who  invented  soap. 
'I'hey   have   invented   new   methods   of   pre- 


lafi 


TRIM ITIVE    INVENTIONS 


paring  it.  hut  tiie  finest  and  best  soap  made 
even  to-da_v,  is  the  same  as  that  which  was 
prepared  by  tlie  bronze  woman  of  the  wilds. 
She  took  tlio  root  of"  tlio  aniole  (a  species 
of   viK'ca),   l)ruist'cl   and   macerated   it,   and 


Fit'.  12.  Iiiiliaii  wuiaan  builius;  water  in  u  basktl 

tlien  heat  it  vij)  and  down  in  her  Ijowl  of 
water.  Slie  tlnis  made  better,  sweeter  and 
more  agreeable  soap  than  comes  from  the 
French  or  English  perfumer  of  reputation. 


I  have  thus  rapidly  outlined  a  few  of  the 
tilings  wliich  we  owe  to  primitive  woman. 
The  list  might  be  lengthened  ten  times.  I 
have  said  nothing  of  Ihe  instruments  for 
iiiakin"'  fire,  the  iiand  drill,  the  makinji  of 
skin  and  bircii  bark  canoes  and  other  ves- 
sels, the  work  in  metals,  the  taming  of  wild 
animals,  the  cultivation  of  plants,  the  dis- 
covery of  medicines  and  of  their  methods  of 
application. 

IJiit  even  \\  itii  these  things  the  list  would 
l)f  inadequate.  1'he  inventiveness  of  the 
primitive  woman  was  never  more  wonder- 
fully siiown  than  in  religion  and  philos- 
ophy. She  devised  a  system  of  religion  to 
account  for  all  the  fearful  phenomena  that 
slie  observed.  She  was  the  inventor  of  the 
storv-telling  art,  and,  indeed,  tiie  first 
teacher  of  language.  She  excelled  in  the 
art  of  representing  human  thought  bj'  pic- 
ture-writing, out  of  which  the  alphabet  was 
slowly  de\e!o{)ed.  Therefore,  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  we  owe  a  vast  amount 
of  gratitude  to  the  ignored  women  of 
the  dawn  of  historv'.  If,  in  future,  we  find 
ourselves  unable  to  speak  a  good  word  for 
the  Indian,  our  American  representative  of 
a  jirimitive  race,  we  shall  no  longer  be  able 
to  plead  ignorance.  We  shall  at  least 
"have  awakened  our  senses,  that  we  may 
better  judge." 


I5Y  HEHOI.DING  THUK  I$K.\l  TV  W  ITIl  Till.  i:V|-,  OF  THK  .MIND,  WE 
WILL  BE  ENABLED  TO  BRING  FORTH  NOT  L\I.\GES,  BUT  REALTIES, 
AND  BRINGING  FORTH  AND  NOLRI.SIIIXC  TRIE  VIRTUES,  TO  BECOME 
THE  FRIENDS  OF  GOD. 

PLATO 


137 


WAS  JESUS  A  CARPENTER? 


ERNKST   CUOSBV 


JESUS  is  usually  said  to  have  been  a 
carpenter.  This  assertion  is  based 
chiefly  upon  a  single  passage  in  the 
Gospel  of  St.  i\Iark  (vi.  8),  where 
the  people  listening  to  his  ]ireacliiiig  in  the 
synagogue  in  "his  own  country,"  were  as- 
tonished and  cried:  "What  is  the  wisdom 
that  is  given  unto  this  man,  and  what  mean 
such  mighty  works  wrought  by  his  hands.'' 
Is  not  this  the  carpenter,  the  son  of  Marj'  ?" 
Taken  by  itself  this  text  is  by  no  means 
decisive,  for  it  is  not  a  statement  that  Jesus 
was  a  carpenter,  but  merely  that  his  audi- 
tors called  him  such,  and  they  might  have 
been  mistaken  or  inaccurate.  If  we  turn 
to  the  parallel  passage  in  the  Gospel  of  St. 
Matthew,  we  find  an  almost  identical  account 
of  the  same  episode.  "And  coming  into 
his  own  country  he  taught  them  in  tlieir 
sj'nagogue,  insomuch  that  they  were  aston- 
ished, and  said,  Whence  hath  this  man  this 
wisdom  and  these  mighty  works.?  Is  not 
this  the  carpenter's  son.''  is  not  his  mother 
called  Mary .?"  (Mat.  xiii,  5-1-5.)  The  two 
phrases,  "Is  not  this  the  carpenter.''"  and 
"Is  not  this  the  carpenter's  son?"  are  clear- 
ly variations  of  what  was  historically  a 
single  question,  and  in  the  original  Greek 
they  are  equally  similar :     oi' ^  ovT<k  co-tiv  o 

r€KT(l>l'/     iind    OV^    Ol'TOS    ifTTLl'   O    TOV   TCKTOl'O?    1'109, 

The  people  evidently  made  one  of  these 
remarks  and  not  the  other,  and  the  differ- 
ence is  due  to  the  error  of  one  of  the  re- 
corders. Which  version  is  the  more  likely 
to  be  correct?     It  is  impossible  for  us  to 


determine,  but  it  is  at  least  just  as  prob- 
able tliat  tlie  designation  of  "carpenter" 
was  applied  to  his  father  as  to  himself,  and 
we  must  still  consider  the  question  of  liis 
calling  an  open  one.  There  is  a  passage 
in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  wliich  seems  to 
have  been  derived  from  the  same  source, 
and  it  reads  as  follows :  "And  they  said, 
'Is  not  this  Jesus,  the  son  of  Joseph,  whose 
father  and  mother  we  know?'"  Here  the 
words,  "the  son  of  Joseph,"  might  be  re- 
garded as  a  paraphrase  of  the  words,  "the 
carpenter's  son,"  which  would  make  this 
reading  of  St.  ]\Iatthew"s  appear  to  be  the 
most  authentic,  and  if  this  conclusion  be 
correct,  all  proof  of  the  fact  tiiat  Jesus 
was  a  carpenter  would  disappear  from  the 
Gospels. 

The  word  t(ktu>v  which  is  correctly  trans- 
lated in  our  versions  of  the  New  Testament 
as  "carpenter,"  has  etymologically  a  some- 
what broader  meaning,  denoting  any  kind 
of  ci'aftsman,  the  same  root  appearing  in 
our  word  "architect,"  which  comes  from  the 
Greek  np;)(irt'Kr<or,  a  master-craftsman.  In 
the  time  of  Jesus  it  undoubtedly  designated 
any  worker  in  wood, — cabinet-maker,  wood- 
carver,  or  builder  as  the  case  might  be, — 
but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  practi- 
cally all  the  houses  of  Palestine  were  built 
of  stone,  that  material  being  very  plentiful, 
while  timber  was  rare.  Justin  Martyr,  who 
lived  in  the  second  century,  refers  in  his 
"Dialogue  with  Tryj)]io"  to  the  trade  of 
Jesus.     "And  when  Jesus  came  to  the  Jor- 


J.S8 


WAS   .lESrS   A   CARPEXTEIJ  ? 


dan,"  he  says,  "lie  was  considered  to  be  the 
son  of  Joseph  the  carpenter,  .  .  .  and  he 
was  deemed  a  carpenter  (for  he  was  in  the 
liahit  of  working  as  a  carpenter  when 
among  men,  making  plougiis  and  yokes ; 
by  whicli  he  taught  the  symbols  of  right- 
eousness and  an  active  life)."  (Chapter 
88. )  In  the  absence  of  other  confirmatory 
evidence  this  passage  does  not  seem  to  be 
conclusive.  The  phrase  "he  was  deemed  a 
carpenter,"  suggests  uncertainty  on  the 
part  of  the  writer,  and  the  imputation  of 
s_vmbolism  to  the  mechanical  work  of  Jesus 
has  a  certain  fantastic  air  which  would  tend 
to  classify  the  stor^-  with  the  legends  of  the 
apocryphal  Gospels.  The  four  canonical 
Evangelists  make  no  further  allusion  to  his 
trade  or  occupation.  They  pass  over  his 
life  from  his  early  infancy  until  his  thir- 
tieth year,  in  a  few  words,  and  it  does  not 
appear  that  during  the  period  of  his  min- 
istry he  engaged  in  any  manual  labor,  or  at 
any  rate  if  he  did,  the  fact  is  not  mentioned. 
Let  us  turn  from  these  unsatisfactory 
proofs  to  the  internal  evidence  afforded  by 
the  words  of  Jesus  himself.  His  discourses, 
conversations  and  observations  have  l)een 
preserved  in  great  fullness  as  recorded  by 
various  liearers,  and  we  may  be  sure  that 
we  have  a  quite  complete  compendium  of 
his  entire  thought  as  expressed  in  language. 
Let  us  examine  the  Gospels  and  read  his 
sayings  with  the  hope  of  extracting  from 
them  some  hints  of  the  work  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  perform,  day  after  day,  dur- 
ing his  3'outh  and  early  manhood.  And 
we  are  surprised  first  of  all  not  to  find  a 
single  word  which  points  to  either  car- 
pentry or  to  any  handicraft  whatever. 
He  shows  deep  familiarity  with  almost 
every  other  phase  of  life:  domestic,  com- 


mercial, professional,  agricultural ;  for  no 
man  ever  entered  more  fully  into  the  dailv 
routine  of  existence  around  him  and  re- 
flected it  more  vividly  in  his  every  utter- 
ance. How  often  ho  may  have  seen  his 
mother  hide  the  leavon  in  three  measures  of 
meal !  and  how  clearly  the  use  of  the  defi- 
nite number  "three"  gives  the  color  of  an 
actual  experience  to  the  parable !  And  so 
he  speaks  of  "two"  women  grinding,  and 
we  find  the  same  precision  in  the  story  of 
the  man  who  comes  to  his  neighbor's  house 
at  midnight,  and  cries :  "Friend,  lend  me 
three  loaves,  for  a  friend  of  mine  is  come  to 
me  from  a  journey,  and  I  have  nothing  to 
set  before  him."  Jesus  had  .seen  children 
asking  their  fathers  for  bread,  and  he  takes 
this  commonest  of  foods  as  a  symbol  of 
himself:  "I  am  the  bread  of  life."  He 
speaks  familiarly  of  the  household  supplies 
and  articles  :  of  salt,  and  candles  and  bushel- 
measures  ;  of  the  mending  of  clothes  and 
the  washing  of  cups  and  platters ;  and  when 
he  tells  us  of  the  woman  who  called  in  her 
friends  to  rejoice  with  her  after  she  had 
found  the  lost  piece  of  silver,  we  may  well 
suppose  that  he  is  recalling  some  actual 
event.  Nothing  in  the  home  life  of  his  own 
family  or  of  his  friends  escaped  him,  and 
all  that  he  observed  was  impressed  upon  his 
mind  so  that  he  could  use  it  as  occasion 
offered  in  parable  an<l  metaphor. 

He  shows  an  acquaintance  also  with  the 
mercantile  life  of  towns ;  he  tells  of  the 
merchant  seeking  pearls,  of  bankers  and 
money-lenders  and  usurers,  and  he  knows  the 
price  of  sparrows  in  the  market :  "Are  not 
two  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing.''"  (Mat. 
X,  29. )  "Are  not  five  sparrows  sold  for 
two  farthings?"  (Luke  xii,  6.)  He  speaks 
of  judges  and  officers  of  the  law,  and  of 

V.V.I 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


physicians.  He  has  seen  children  playing 
in  the  market-place,  and  Pharisees  praj'ing 
at  the  street  corners  and  in  the  Temple,  and 
he  remembei's  the  details  of  feasts  and 
weddings,  the  order  of  the  guests  at  table, 
and  the  style  of  garment  required.  He 
can  u.se  for  illustration  the  sepulchres  on 
the  hillside,  the  wars  of  kings  of  which  he 
has  read,  or  the  latest  tale  of  robbery, 
cither  of  the  highwayman  or  of  the  burglar 
who  breaks  through  (or  rather  "digs 
through"),  and  steals. 

But  of  all  this  nothing  seems  as  yet  to 
suggest  a  regular  occupation  on  the  part 
of  Jesus.  Such  callings  as  have  been  re- 
ferred to  by  him  so  far  are  evidently  looked 
at  from  the  outside.  The  references  are 
those  of  an  observer  and  not  of  an  actor. 
When  we  turn  however  to  his  allusions  to 
the  rural  world  of  corn-field  and  vineyard 
and  sheepfold,  we  seem  to  enter  a  new  re- 
gion of  which  he  speaks  with  the  technical 
knowledge  of  an  expert.  With  what  par- 
ticidarity  he  details  the  incidents  of  the 
sower's  day's  work !  Nothing  could  be 
more  certain  than  that  Jesus  had  often 
sown  seed  himself  and  seen  the  birds  devour 
that  which  fell  by  the  wayside,  and  had 
watched  the  fortunes  of  the  crop  from  day 
to  <lay,  and  noted  how  the  sun  scorched  the 
blades  which  came  up  in  I'ocky  places,  "be- 
cause they  had  no  deepness  of  earth,"  and 
how  they  withered  away,  "because  they  had 
no  root,"  and  how  the  thorns  clicked  the 
seed  that  fell  among  them.  And  he  knew 
exactly  how  much  that  which  fell  in  good 
ground  should  yield:  "some  a  hundredfold, 
some  sixty,  some  thii'ty."  When  tares 
grow  in  a  field,  he  was  aware  that  it  is  best 
not  to  attempt  to  root  them  out,  but  to  wait 
until  the   harvest   and   then  to  say   to  the 

1+0 


reapers  :  "Gather  up  first  the  tares,  a7id  bind 
them  in  bundles  and  burn  them ;  but  gather 
the  wheat  into  my  barn."  And  he  had 
often  watched  with  wonder  the  miracle  of 
the  growth  of  grain,  whicli,  while  the  farm- 
er goes  about  his  duties,  springs  up  and 
grows,  "he  knoweth  not  how."  And  he  had 
followed  the  fate  of  the  "gi-ass  of  the  field," 
"which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into 
the  oven"  as  fuel.  He  knows  that  the 
"mustard-seed"  is  the  smallest  of  seeds,  and 
he  has  seen  the  birds  light  in  the  branches 
of  the  tree  which  springs  from  it.  He  has 
remarked  the  fowls  of  the  air,  and  their 
nests :  the  spaiTows,  the  eagles  feeding  on 
carrion,  the  fox  and  his  hole,  and  the  lily  of 
the  field.  He  has  lived  out  of  door  and 
studied  the  action  of  sun  and  rain  and 
lightning:  he  knows  that  a  cloud  rising  in 
the  West  portends  a  shower,  and  a  south 
wind  scorching  heat,  and  that  when  the  fig- 
trees  shoot  forth,  smnmer  is  nigh  at  hand. 
He  has  seen  oxen  and  asses  watered  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  has  probably  done  it  himself. 
They  are  "loosed"  from  the  stall  and  led 
away  to  watering.  He  is  conversant  with 
the  custom  which,  when  the  servant  comes 
in  from  plowing,  requires  him  first  to  pre- 
pare his  master's  supper.  Jesus  knows  well 
the  great  estates  of  the  rich  with  their 
stewards  and  overseers,  and  it  is  such  prod- 
ucts of  husbandry  as  oil  and  wheat  which 
formed  the  debts  reduced  by  the  "unjust 
steward."  He  knows  «ell  the  rich  man  who 
builds  great  barns  and  fills  them  with  his 
crops,  when  his  soul  is  required  of  him. 
Country  sights  of  all  kinds  furnish  him 
with  ready  images :  the  man  who  puts  his 
hand  to  the  plough  and  turns  back,  the 
treasure  found  in  the  field,  the  ox  or  the 
ass  fallen  into  the  well.      He  appears  also 


WAS   JEST'S   A    CARPKXTEU  ? 


to  have  liad  some  kiiowlc(i<>'e  of  fishinj;,  and 
of  the  way  in  wliioli  the  fisliermen  draw  tlie 
net  up  on  tlie  beacli,  and  tln-ow  a«av  the 
bad  t\s\\  wliile  tlicv  fijatlicr  the  <>;ooil  into 
vessels,  and  wlien  lie  advises  Peter  at  their 
first  nieetin<r  where  to  cast  liis  net,  the  result 
is  successful. 

No  less  marked  is  the  familiarity  of 
Jesus  with  fruit-culture.  A  fi<^-trce  which 
ha^  not  home  fruit  for  several  years  must 
he  di^-^ed  about  and  fertilized.  A  o-ood 
tree  brin^-s  forth  good  fruit,  and  a  corrupt 
tree  evil  fruit,  and  the  latter  must  be  hewn 
down.  ^len  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns 
nor  figs  of  thistles.  Jesus  knows  how  labor- 
ers are  hired  in  the  marketplace  to  work  in 
vineyards,  and  how  a  man  employs  his  own 
sons  in  such  work,  and  he  tells  a  parable  of 
a  househokler  who  planted  a  vineyard  and 
set  a  hedge  about  it,  and  digged  a  wine-press 
in  it,  and  built  a  tower,  and  let  it  out  to 
husbandmen.  He  likens  himself  to  a  vine. 
\'ine-branches  that  bear  no  fruit  are  taken 
away,  while  thosi_'  that  hear  are  cleansed  so 
that  they  may  bear  more,  and  the  withei'ed 
branches  arc  burned.  The  new  wine  must 
be  put  into  new  leathern  bottles,  as  it  would 
burst  old  bottles. 

Jesus  also  shows  special  knowledge  of 
the  duties  of  a  shepherd.  A  sheep  may  be 
lifted  out  of  a  pit  on  the  Sabbath.  He  is 
himself  the  good  shepherd.  The  porter  of 
the  shcepfold  opens  the  door  to  the  shep- 
herd, but  the  robber  climbs  uj)  some  other 
way.  The  sheep  recognize  their  shepherd's 
voice,  and  he  calls  them  by  name  and  leads 
them  out.  When  he  has  brought  out  all 
his  own  sheep,  leaving  behind  those  of  the 
other  shepherds,  he  goes  before  them  and 
they  follow  him,  for  they  know  his  voice. 
But  they  will  flee  from  a  stranger,  because 


they  do  not  know  his  voice.  lie  likens  him- 
self, too,  to  the  door  of  the  fold.  The  good 
^lieplurd  gives  his  life  for  the  sheep,  if 
they  are  his  own  sheeji,  but  a  mere  hireling 
runs  away  from  the  wolf,  and  the  wolf 
snatches  them  and  scatters  them.  Wiien 
the  owner  of  an  hundred  sheep  loses  one,  he 
leaves  all  the  rest  and  searches  for  the  lost 
one  in  the  mountains  until  he  finds  it,  and 
then  he  rejoices  over  it  more  than  over  the 
other  ninety-nine.  Jesus  sends  his  disci- 
j)les  forth  as  sheep  in  the  midst  of  wolves, 
and  he  warns  them  against  false  prophets 
which  come  in  sheep's  clothing,  but  inward- 
ly are  ravening  wolves,  and  he  tells  how 
shepherds  separate  the  sheep  from  the 
goats. 

We  have  now  given  a  fairly  complete 
resume  of  the  references  which  Jesus  makes 
to  the  popular  life  around  him.  It  is  won- 
derful what  a  living  ])ictui'e  we  can  con- 
struct from  it  of  the  society  of  his  time. 
Only  one  feature  is  absent, — almost  totally 
absent, — antl  that  is  any  hint  of  craftsman- 
ship of  any  kind.  In  om.-  place  he  speaks 
of  the  two  men  who  built  houses  on  the  rock 
and  on  the  sand,  but  not  a  single  detail  of 
the  construction  is  given.  It  is  the  fall  of 
the  house  on  the  sand  which  is  described, 
and  how  the  rain  descended  and  the  floods 
came  and  the  wind  blew  and  smote  ujion 
that  house.  All  his  attention  is  fixed  on 
the  work  of  nature.  In  another  place  he 
tells  of  the  building  of  a  tower,  but  he  only 
refers  to  it  for  the  purpose  oi  dwelling  upon 
the  necessity  of  counting  the  cost  before- 
hand, lest  it  be  left  unfinished.  It  is  cer- 
tainly astounding  that  whatever  his  occu- 
pation, Jesus  never  alludes  to  the  work  of 
an  artificer.  A  carpenter's  trade  offers  al- 
most as  many  opportunities  for  parable  and 

I II 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


parallel  as  the  farmer's.  The  difference  in 
the  fibre  of  woods,  the  seasoning  of  timber 
and  its  warping,  the  use  of  the  various  tools, 
the  adaptation  of  the  parts  of  the  article 
manufactured  to  the  wliole, — surely  here 
was  a  field  worth  cultivating !  Is  it  not 
inconceivable  that  Jesus  should  have  been 
a  craftsman  and  vet  have  failed  to  say  one 
word  of  his  craft?  His  mind  seems  to  have 
turned  almost  invariably  to  the  world  of  the 
farm  for  his  similes ;  the  scenes  of  farm  life 
were  always  haunting  him,  and  he  recurred 
to  them  with  evident  affection.  Even  the 
excuses  given  by  the  wedding-guests  were 
agricultural  excuses :  "I  have  bought  a 
field,  and  I  must  needs  go  out  and  see  it,"  "I 
have  bought  five  yoke  of  oxen,  and  I  go  to 
prove  them."  It  is  noticeable  in  this  con- 
nection that  Justin  Martyr  ascribes  to 
Jesus  the  trade  of  making  yokes  and 
ploughs,  both  of  them  agricultural  imple- 
ments. If  this  really  was  his  occupation,  it 
would  give  additional  interest  to  his  injunc- 
tion :  "Take  my  yoke  upon  j'ou,  .  .  .  for 
my  yoke  is  easy,"  but  if  he  had  intended  to 
speak  of  his  trade  he  would  hardly  have 
added  the  irrelevant  phrase,  "and  my  bur- 
den is  light,"  as  the  burden  drawn  by  the 
yoke  was  not  manufactured  by  the  maker 
of  the  yoke.  The  carpenters  of  Nazareth 
to-day  make  little  miniature  yokes  and 
ploughs  which  are  sold  to  pilgrims  and 
travelers,  and  I  possess  one  of  each  which 
I  bought  there  some  years  since.  They 
have  taken  their  idea  from  Justin  IMartyr. 

In  only  one  place  do  we  find  Jesus  con- 
fronted with  craftsmanship  or  with  plastic 
arts  in  any  form,  and  that  was  when  he  was 
going  forth  from  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem, 
and  "some  spake  of  the  temple,  how  it  was 
adorned  with  goodly  stones  and  offerings" 


(that  is,  votive  offerings),  or  said  to  him,  as 
it  is  given  in  another  Gospel :  "jMaster,  be- 
hold, what  manner  of  stones  and  what  man- 
ner of  buildings  !"  But  Jesus  does  not  ex- 
press any  admii'ation.  "Seest  thou  these 
great  buildings.'^"  he  says.  "Tliere  shall 
not  be  left  hero  one  stone  upon  another 
which  shall  not  be  tlu'own  down."  That 
this  temple  of  Herod  was  a  most  magnifi- 
cent building  we  learn  from  the  writinffs  of 
Josephus.  Mr.  James  Ferguson,  a  compe- 
tent authorit}',  concludes  in  his  description 
of  it  that  "it  nuist  have  formed,  when  com- 
l)ined  with  the  beauty  of  the  situation,  one 
of  the  most  splendid  architectural  combina- 
tions of  the  ancient  world."  It  seems  safe 
then  to  infer  that  Jesus  was  indifferent  to 
architecture  and  to  craftsmanship  gener- 
ally. I  have  looked  through  the  "logia" 
of  Jesus  (that  is,  tlie  sayings  attributed  to 
him  on  good  authority,  but  not  contained 
in  the  Gospels),  and  have  only  succeeded  in 
finding  in  one  of  tiiem  any  reference,  direct 
or  indirect,  to  handicraft.  Resell,  in  his 
"Agra])ha"  (Leipzig,  1889)  gives  sixty- 
two  fairly  authentic  sayings  of  tjiis  kind, 
but  none  of  them  is  to  the  point.  In  the 
winter  of  1896-7,  however,  a  manuscript, 
dating  probably  from  the  third  century, 
was  discovered  in  Egyj)t  by  ]\Iessrs.  Grcn- 
fell  and  limit  of  the  Egypt  Explorati<ni- 
Fund,  which  contained  among  other  ''login" 
the  following  sentence,  "Jesus  saith:"  (and 
then  follow  some  undecipherable  words) 
"Raise  the  stone  and  there  thou  shalt  find 
me,  cleave  the  wood  and  there  am  I."  The 
authenticity  of  this  text  is  exceedingly 
doubtful,  but  it  should  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration in  determining  whether  Jesus  was 
a  carpenter  or  not. 

The  conclusion  to  which  I  am  disposed  to 


WAS   JESUS   A   C  AllPEXTEH  ? 


come  is  that  Jesus  was  not  a  carpenter,  and 
tliat  if  iiis  fatlier  ever  was  one,  he  luid  ceased 
to  ply  his  trade  before  Jesus  was  old  enough 
to  pay  attention  to  his  work;  for  otiierwise 
the  early  impressions  of  the  craft  would 
have  impressed  themselves  upon  his  mind. 
Tlie  tradition,  in  fact  is,  that  Joseph  was  a 
very  old  man  and  that  he  died  while  Jesus 
was  still  a  lad.  It  seems  prett}-  certain  on 
tiie  other  hand  that  Jesus  had  earned  his 
living  in  agriculture,  vine-dressing  and 
sheep-raising,  so  that  not  onlj'  were  all  the 
details  of  these  occupations  at  his  fingers' 
iiids,  but  they  afforded  him  with  the  rich 
stock  of  illustrations  upon  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  draw.      The  Jews  have  never 


been  preeminent  as  craftsmen,  for  which 
fact  the  ])roscriptioii  of  graven  images  may 
he  in  part  responsible,  and  the  idea  of  "joy 
in  work,"  as  presented  by  Ruskin  and  Mor- 
ris is  peculiarly  Western  and  modern.  That 
Jesus  was  an  artist  from  the  literary  point 
of  view,  no  one  who  reads  the  parable  of  the 
''Prodigal  Son"  can  doubt,  but  in  the  world 
of  the  senses  it  was  nature,  and  not  art,  that 
attracted  him.  lie  had  no  taste  for  crafts- 
manship, and  it  is  altogether  unlikely  that 
he  ever  was  a  craftsman.  From  his  cradle 
in  the  manger  of  the  oxen  to  his  tomb  in  a 
"garden"  (k^ttos,  orcliard  or  })lantation), 
his  life  savored  of  the  soil  and  of  its  pri- 
marv  and  essential  travail. 


AND  TllK  INDIVIDf.VI.  IX  WHOM  .SIMl'I.I-:  lASTKS  A\n  SUSCKPTI- 
BILITY  TO  ALL  THE  GREAT  HU.MAX  INFLUENCES,  OVEUPOWER  THE 
ACCIDENTS  OF  A  LOCAL  AND  SPECIAL  CI'LTIMIE,  IS  THE  Kl'.ST  CRITIC 
OF  ART.  THOUGH  WE  TRA\EL  THE  WORLD  OVER  TO  FIND  TIIE  BE.VU- 
TIFUL.  WE  MUST  CARRY  IT  WITH  IS,  OR  WE  FIND  IT  NOT. 

K.M.I'H     WAI.no    KMKIl.SON 


u:< 


JAPANESE  BOOK  ILLUSTRATIONS 


LKON  MEAD 


WK  sliould  not,  judge  Japaucso 
j)ictiiros  solely  by  oui-  own 
canons.  To  understand  what 
Japanese  art  means  we  should 
know  sonietiiiug'  of  the  national  spirit  of 
the  jieople,  tiieir  temperament,  their  cus- 
toiHs,  tiieii'  traditions  ;  for  tlieir  jrreat  paint- 
ers and  carvers  and  craftsmen  have  put  all 
these  and  nnich  more  into  tlieir  work.  The 
history  of  .Ta])an  may  he  said  to  he  per- 
petuated in  her  works  of  art  ;  and  amoTlg' 
the  latter  may  he  classed  dc  liijc  books — 
made  chietlv  for  rich  foreigners,  as  the 
a\'erage  native  cannot  aff'oi'd  them.  Cer- 
tain wealthy  Ja])anese  saxants,  iiowever, 
haxe  s])ecial  books,  with  fine  illustrations, 
made  for  tlieir  libraries. 

Tiiey  ])ossess  in  .T.ip.ui  tiie  skill  and  facil- 
ities to  turn  out  ex([uisite  vellum  editions. 
Xylog-raphy  has  made  giant  strides  tliere, 
and  their  colortyjie  jjrinting,  done  by  hand 
on  crej)e  paper,  is  rich  and  glowing  in 
effect — almost  like  embossed  enamels.  The 
reproductions  here  presented  of  course  give 
no  idea  of  the  hrilli;int  color  schemes  of 
their  originals,  which  as  specimens  of  artis- 
tic illustration,  however,  do  not  belong  to 
the  highest  class.  They  may  serve  to  sug- 
gest the  general  merit  of  the  works  that  are 
sold  to  foreigners  as  souvenir  volumes  at 
moderate  prices.  The  dc  lii.vc  edition.s  have 
far  more  delicate  tints  and  elaborate  con- 
trasts, not  to  say  embellishments,  and  much 
decorative  gold  work,  like  some  of  the  medi- 
eval mis.sals  of  Europe. 


Alany  of  these  souvenir  books  are  merely 
a  series  of  pictures,  witliout  any  text,  except 
a  t't^w  exj)lanatoi-y  words  in  Japanese  on  the 
margins,  "i'hey  usually  give  a  ]iictorial 
version  of  some  popular  old  legend  or  cele- 
brate the  exploits  of  some  Shinto  god  or 
historic  hero.  The  Huddhist  mythology  is 
also  often  represented,  but  artists  nowadays 
are  leaving  such  lore  alone;  as  Buddhism  is 
under  the  ban  of  the  government. 

Formerly,  painting  was  not  considered  a 
vocation  by  itself  in  Japan,  but  a  branch  of 
decorative  art.  For  this  reason  some  of  the 
foremost  artists  in  the  "Land  of  the  Risina- 

o 

Sun"  never  attempted  an  ambitious  subject 
on  canvas,  but  painted  birds  and  flowers  on 
china  and  porcelain,  or  quaint  designs  on 
lacquer,  or  executed  superb  carvings  on 
ivory.  The  artistic  bent  of  others  was  ex- 
ercised in  the  work  of  painting  pictures  on 
paper-lanterns,  fans,  parasols  and  screens, 
or  in  weaving  gorgeous  brocaded  silks  and 
priceless  tapestries  and  mats. 

Aliout  one  hundred  years  ago  such  art- 
tists  as  Hoven,  Yusei  and  Hokusai  begfan 
to  break  away  from  the  trammels  of  the  old 
schools  and  conventions,  and  to  take  up 
free-hand  drawing.  This  was  intended  to 
be  a  popular  art  and  of  necessity  economy 
was  an  imjiortant  factor:  therefore,  the 
process  of  printing  with  color  blocks  was 
evolved.  Four  printings  in  the  hands  of 
an  ex])ert  workman  are  all  that  is  necessary 
to  })roduce  color  combinations  of  the  ut- 
most  subtlety    and   power.      To    the   Occi- 


JAPANESE    l?OOK  ILLUSTRATIONS 

dental  miiul  the  crudeness  of  tlie  process  is  only  tiie  trained  skill  of  the  printer  as  a 

startling,   and   to   those   who   arc   familiar  means  of  register,  are  j)ro(iiicod  these  prints 

with  machine  processes,  possibly  appalling.  wliicli   rank   in  the  art  world   in  the  same 

Imagine    an    engraver   with    a    piece    of  plane  wit li  tlie  etchings  of  Rembrandt, 

cherry  plank,  on  the  flat  side  of  tlie  same  I'rior  to  Korin  the  art  of  tlic  Japanese 

carving,    with    the    utmost    precision,    lines  was  essentially   classic  and  a   continuation 


^m''lff& 


-»<*,. 


W\ 


the  most  comprehensive  that  the  art  of  the 
world  has  ever  seen,  with  a  Japanese  jack- 
knife.  This  process  includes  what  is 
known  as  the  black  or  outline  block,  and 
others  which  carry  the  different  colors  to 
be  j)rinted  each  over  the  other.  Then  with 
the  combination  of  the  simplest  possible 
colors  mixed  with   a   little  rice  paste,   and 


of  the  conventions  hroiiglit  to  their  coun- 
try by  the  Chinese,  through  the  medium  of 
their  Buddhist  Priests.  It  was  character- 
ized by  extreme  angularity  of  form,  rigid 
conventions  and  symbolism  of  an  involved 
and  pronounced  tj-pe.  With  the  advt-iit 
of  Korin,  who  was  the  first  master  and 
greatest    influence    in    the    life    and    art    of 


11.-. 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 

Hokusai.   came  the  response  to  a  demand  Great  art  is  in  no  sense  psychologically 

for  a  popular  art ;  the  old  being  done  en-  narrow  or  insular.      It  is  not  impossible  for 

tirely   at   the   request   of   Sliogun    and   his  Western    artists   to   absorb   the   essence   of 

noble  associates.  Japanese   art.      Moreover,    certain    Japan- 

The  Ukioye,  or  "Floating  World,"  had  ese  artists,  such  as  Genjiro  Geto,  who  have 

then  its  origin  in  Korin,  from  whom  came  studied  in  this  country  and  Europe,  have 

an  artistic  descent  of  most  illustrious  mas-  shown   a   quick   aptitude   in   acquiring  the 


^r^ 


:V" 


ters.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned : 
Hokusai,  Toyokuni,  Kunasada  and  Hiro- 
shisi,  with  whom  color  printing,  as  a  great 
art,  perished  in  the  middle  of  the  last 
century ;  there  being  at  the  present  time 
strenuous  but  tentative  efforts  on  the  part 
of  the  Imperial  Government  to  revive  it. 


essential  details  of  the  three  chief  schools 
of  Occidental  art.  Many,  too,  have  sought 
to  combine  the  features  that  distinguish  the 
best  W'orks  of  Japanese  and  of  Western 
painters ;  but  the  results  thus  obtained  are 
hybrid  and  promise  no  supreme  achieve- 
ments.     The    Japanese    would    better   con- 


UK 


JAPANESE    BOOK  ILLUSTRATIONS 

fine  tlicMiiselves  to  tlieir  own  style  and  not  they  exaggerate  those  features  which  they 

try  to  blend  with  it  an  exotic  taste;  or  if  think  make  for  beauty.     For  instance,  tiiey 

tliey   prefer  Western    ideals   and   methods,  regard  a  long  nose  as  aristocratic,  a  sign  of 

they  would  better  follow  them  exclusively.  high  birth;  hence  they  make  long  noses  in 

The  range  of  Japanese  .subjects  for  the  tlieir    pictures,    although,    as    everyone    is 

brush,   for  wash  drawings,   for  dry   point  aware,  the  people  have  short,  stul)by  noses. 


etchings,  etc.,  is  not  wider  than  their  treat- 
ment. In  dramatic  painting,  amazing  ver- 
satility is  evinced.  Human  violence  is  one 
of  their  favorite  themes.  In  painting  wind 
storms — typhoons,  as  they  are  called  in  the 
Orient — the  Japanese  are  not  equaled  by 
Western  painters.  To  American  eyes  tlieir 
portraits  are  little  short  of  caricatures ;  for 


If  you  have  studied  at  first  hand  the 
characteristics  of  the  Japanese,  you  are  bet- 
ter prepared  to  judge  of  their  art.  If  you 
know  that  as  a  people  they  are  imaginative, 
humorous,  emotional,  aesthetic,  and  very 
much  like  children,  the  motifs  they  intro- 
duce in  their  book  illustrations  and  the  ex- 
j)ression  of  their  thoughts  and   fancies  in 


147 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


color  have  for  you  ;i  clearer  ami  more  seri- 
ous signiHcaiice.  But  even  then,  at  times, 
from  inability  to  command  their  ])oint  of 
view  in  art,  we  miss  some  of  the  sugg'cstioiis 
of  their  svmholism. 

Only  the  Japanese  temperament  can 
grasp  the  ethical  or  ai'tistic  purj)ose  back  of 
those  jiictures  which  to  us  seems  merely 
bizarre  and  elusive  in  meaning.  We  laugh 
at  their  jierspectives  and  their  figures, 
whii-li,  according  to  our  ideas,  ai'e  out  of 
drawing.      l?ut  we  must  reniemhi'r  that  the 


Japanese  artist  purjjoselv  axoids  what  we 
call  Greek  symmetry :  that  in  the  irregular 
line  he  makes  his  most  effective  appeal  to 
the  appreciation  of  his  countrymen.  He 
interprets  life  and  nature,  illustrates  poems, 
legends  and  stories  from  a  point  of  view 
into  which  enter  a  tliousand  convictions  and 
actuations  more  or  less  opposed  to  oiu'  own ; 
though  in  a  final  analysis  these  differences 
are  fountl  to  be  merely  radiations  wliicli  are 
traceable  back  to  the  same  source.  Only 
the  eternal  human  soul  is  unresolvable. 


UH 


BROWNING'S  MESSAGE  TO  ARTISTS 
AND  CRAFTSMEN  OF  TO  DAY 


BY  gf.(m«;k  whautox  .iamks 


1 1 1 1',    poet,    tliL'    |)r()j)liet.    tlic    seor. 


How  often  lie  writes  in  one  age,  far 


T 

M  ill  iidvance  of  liis  time,  the  peculiar 
message  needed  for  the  next. 
Hrowning  is  gone,  but  his  message  lives. 
It  had  power  and  force  when  he  wrote  it. 
It  has  greater  potency  to-dav.  It  is  need- 
ed more  to-day  than  then.  He  was  no 
trifler  with  life  and  its  duties.  He  was  no 
unthinking  optimist.  He  believed  in  direct- 
ing natural  impulses,  making  the  most  of 
them,  getting  tiie  best  out  of  them.  In 
effect,  he  said,  "We  are  going  along  well 
only  if  we  get  well  out  of  our  going.  We 
ru'ed  not  worry  about  the  future  if  we  are 
doing  our  best  now.  But  let  us  be  sure  that 
we  are  doing  our  best." 

In  "Andrea  del  Sarto,"  hi.s  great  poem 
on  the  faultless  painter,  he  preaches  his 
powerful  sermon  to  the  Artists  and  Crafts- 
men of  to-day. 

Hear  ye  then  and  heed ! 

No  one  questioned  the  work  of  Andrea, 
liven  in  his  own  day  his  technique  was  re- 
garded as  perfect,  "faultless."  Pigments, 
canvas,  brushes,  lent  themselves  to  him  and 
obeyed  his  every  behest.  He  thought  and 
ilesired.  and  inmiediately  his  tiiouglits  and 
desires  were  made  manifest  upon  the  bril- 
liant and  striking  canvas  upon  his  easel. 

Tlie  world  came  and  worshipped  at  his 
>lirinc;  bowed  at  his  feet,  flattered,  feted, 
praised   him.      Monev    flowed    int<j   his   cof- 


fers. His  fellow  painters  envied  him,  con- 
gratul.it((l  him  up(m  his  godlike  and  perfect 
gifts,  hated  him  for  his  suj)rem,-icv  over 
tiiem.  Yet  his  good  will,  his  courtosv,  his 
high  breeding,  his  gentleness,  in  a  measure 
won  tiieni  and  softened  the  fi'i'V  of  their 
envv,  and  assuaged  somewhat  tlu'  pangs  of 
their  jealousy.  Yet,  ])oor  fellow,  he  felt  as 
none  of  them  dreamed  he  felt.  He  had  a 
personal  skeleton  in  his  own  closet,  he,  the 
happy.  to-l)e-envied,  the  elect.  Sadness  and 
sorrow  were  his  constant  companions. 
Kvery  new  achievement  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world  was  a  new  sorrow  to  himself.  Every 
new  triumph  was  a  new  failure  to  him. 

l''or  lie  felt  that  he  did  not  possess  that 
heaven-born  aspiration. —  desire,  longing, 
jiassion, — that  alone  makes  work  worthy. 
With  consummate  art  and  skill  Hrowning, 
the  most  conscientious  poet  of  all  lime,  re- 
veals the  ])aintt'r's  inner  soul,  shows  his 
secret  sorrow. 

"I  often  .im  imuli  wearier  tli:m  vou  tliiiil^, 
'I'liis  cvcniiifr  more  tli.iii  iisii.il."" 

Yes !  who  knows,  who  can  know,  the  sor- 
row of  the  soul  looking  uj)on  its  own  glar- 
ing imperfections,  incompletenesses.  And 
the  keenness  of  such  sorrow  is  the  fact  th:it 
it  is  for  what  the  world  never  dreams  to 
exist.  The  cry  of  weakness  of  the  man  who 
leads,  like  Savonarola,  or  Cromwell.  The 
cry  of  uncertainty  of  the  dogmatist,  like 
Cahin.      The  crv  for  wisdom  in  him  whom 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


the  world  counts  wise.    The  cry  of  inabihty 
in  whom  the  w^orld  counts  its  most  able. 

Del  Sarto  knew  his  ability  from  the 
world's  standpoint.  He  had  seen  even  the 
critical  world  pass  sentence  on  the  vulgar 
mass  called  his  "work." 

"Tilings  done,  that  took  the  eye  and  had  the  price; 
O'er  wliicli,  from  level  stand. 
The  low  world  laid  its  hand, 

Found  straiglitway  to  its  mind,  could  value  in  a 
trice." 

He  was  no  fool.  He  could  truthfully 
exclaim : 

"I  am  hold  to  say, 
I  can  do  with  my  pencil  what  I  know, 
What  I  see,  what  at  bottom  of  my  heart 
I  wish  for,  if  I  ever  wish  so  deep- 
Do  easily,  too,— when  I  say,  perfectly, 
I  do  not  lioast,  perhaps." 

He  could  compare  his  own  work  with  that 
of  his  compeers.  He  knew  well  enough  that 
when  the  critics  praised  their  work  they 
were  praising  his.  And  there  was  no  boast- 
ing in  recognizing  acknowledged  facts. 

And  he  knew,  too,  how  easily  such  mas- 
terly work  flowed  from  his  fingers.      It  was 

easy there   was   no   effort.      It   seemed   as 

if  everything  lent  itself  to  his  moods  when 
work  was  to  be  done.  Pigments  mixed 
easily;  tlie  subtlest  colors  came  without 
thought ;  brushes  obeyed  his  lightest  touch. 
Other  men  struggled  for  years  to  find  the 
right  pigments,  and  when  they  thought 
they  liad  succeeded,  weary  hours  were  spent 
in  trying  to  compel  certain  color  combina- 
tions which  would  not  come,  yet  to  Andrea 
these  things  came  without  thought,  witliout 
struggle. 

"I  do  what  many  dream  of,  all  their  lives, 
Dream? — Strive  to  do,  and  agonize  to  do, 
And  fail  in  doing.     I  could  count  twenty  such 
On  twice  your  fingers,  and  not  leave  this  town, 


Who  strive— You  don't  know  how  the  others  strive 
To  paint  a  little  thing  like  that." 

Conscious  power!  "I  do  what  many 
dream  of."  Uream!  nay.  they  strive  and 
agonize  to  do.  "You  don't  know  how  the 
others  strive."  It  is  impossible  to  conceive 
the  effort,  the  anguish,  the  heart-rending 
struggle  of  some  souls  to  accomplish  what 
to  them  is  ideal,  and  yet  wliat  to  others,  to 
the  Andrea  del  Sartos,  comes  so  easily.  And 
in  that  fact  the  truly  humble  masters  ex- 
claim with  him : 

"I  am  judged. 
There  burns  a  truer  light  of  God  in  them. 
In  their  vexed  beating  stuffed  and  stopped-up  brain. 
Heart,  or  whate'er  else,  than  goes  on  to  prompt 
This    low-pulsed    forthright    craftsman's    hand    of 
mine." 

Yes!  he  knew  that  it  was  aspiration, 
longing,  soul's  desire  that  counted.  A 
quarter-farthing  rushlight  kept  as  fully 
aflame  as  possible  was  more  worthy  in  the 
great  master  artist's  eyes  than  a  two-penny 
candle  guttered  and  flaring  with  charred 
wick.  His  hand  was  that  of  a  "forthright 
craftsman,"  but  its  pulse  was  low.  It  is 
the  high  pulse  that  counts,  the  throbbing 
brain,  the  anxious,  rcaching-out  heart,  the 
straining  nerves. 

How  goes  it.  brother  craftsman  of  to- 
day? Are  you  a  "low-pulsed  forthright 
craftsman,"  content  with  your  own  achieve- 
ments;  self  contented  in  the  admiring 
o-ratulations  of  those  who  do  not  know  what 
you  feel  they  ought  to  know?  Are  you 
resting  upon  something  found  made,  m- 
stead  of  reaching  out.  even  though  it  be 
through  "acts  uncouth,"  to  something 
higher  and  better?  Rest  assured  if  you 
are  of  the  self-contented  class  you  will  never 
know  the  jov  of  soaring  heavenward. 


1 ,50 


1?1U)\\  \  1  Ncrs    M  KSSAGE 


Poor  Andrea  could  see  that : 

"Their  works  drop  groundward,  bid    tlirinsi'lves,    1 
know, 
Reach  many  a  time  a  heaven  that's  sliid  to  me. 
Enter  and  take  tlieir  plaee  there  sure  enough. 
Though  they  eome  baek  and  eannot  tell  the  worlil." 

Ah,  ves!  Tlic  striving  soul  enters  hea- 
ven, even  though  its  achievement  be  small, 
(xod  measures  by  effort,  not  accomplish- 
ment.     For: 

"What  is  our  failure  here  but  a  triuni|)irs  evidence 
For  the  fullness  of  the  days?" 

"\\hat  I  aspired  to  be, 
And  was  not,  comforts  me." 

Andrea  knew  tiiat  though  his  "works 
were  nearer  heaven,"  he  "sat  here." 

And  where  was  the  joy  of  having  his 
works  approach  heaven  if  he  himself  were 
tied  down  to  earth?  The  artist  is  greater 
and  of  nuire  importance  than  the  art.  It  is 
he  that  should  be  in  hea\en.  or  going  thith- 
erwards, through  his  art,  and  not  his  art 
^oaring  higher  than  himself. 

Then  that  cry  of  passionate  admiration 
for  the  "sudden  blood"  of  the  striving  art- 
ists: 

"The  sudden  blood  of  these  men !  at  a  word — 
Praise  them,  it  boils,  or  blame  them,  it  boils  too." 

'J'hey  live  intensel}',  fiercely,  furiously. 
A  word  of  either  praise  or  blame  .stirs  the 
blood  to  frenzy.  That  is  life!  That  is  to 
abound  in  life!  Oh,  for  the  quick,  living, 
pulsing  blood,  the  pouring  stream  that 
flows,  flows  swift,  fast,  strong. 

Andrea  knew  the  difference  between  them 
.md  himself: 


"I,  painting  from  myxlf  .irul  In  myself. 
Know  what  I  do,  am  nnmoveil  by  men's  blame 
( )r  their  prai.se  either." 

Hut  he  lacked  the  (ire,  tiie  life,  the  all- 
abounding  vigor  and  aspiration  that  stir 
the  soul  to  its  deepest  de[)tlis  and  make  its 
highest  flights  possiiile.  He  could  do  what 
he  desired,  what  he  willed,  but  was  that 
enough.' 

"All  I  but  a  man's  reach  should  exceed  his  gras]>. 
Or  what's  a  heaven  for?" 

Then  read  his  mournful  crit  icism  of  his 
fellow  jiaiiiter's  work.  In  techniiiue  im- 
perfect, in  detail  faidty.  it  yet  possessed  the 
greatest  quality  of  all.  As  Andrea  could 
see,  this  imperfect  draughtsman  "poured 
his  soul  out  that  heaven  might  so  replenish 
him."  An  arm  here  is  wrongly  put,  the 
body  is  wrongly  drawn,  but,- -and  here  is 
the  imjiortant  point, — the  soul  is  iiffht. 
"He  means  riglit     thai,  a  child  may  understand." 

Andrea  could  alter  the  arm  and  make  the 
body's  lines  perfect,  but  "all  the  ]>Iay,  the 
insight  and  the  stretch,"  the  passion  and 
the  creative  power  were  not  in  him.  Poor 
Andrea !  And  that  power  comes  alone  of 
love.  Love,  love,  love,  love  is  the  moving, 
the  creative,  the  godlike  power. 

To  the  Artist  and  Craftsman,  Browning 
should  ever  be  an  inspiration.  His  three 
poems,  Andrea  del  Sarto,  Abt  \'ogler  and 
Rabbi  Hen  Ezra  should  be.  by  them,  learned 
bv  heart  and  recited  daily.  T.ike  a  cold 
bath  to  the  body  they  tone  up  the  nerves  of 
the  .soul,  quicken  the  inner  pulses  and  stim- 
ulate them  to  higher  endeavors,  and  moie 
god-like  achievements. 


l.il 


A  NOTE  OF  COLOR 


IIARVl.V    I.LLIS 


THE  design  for  a  Iioum'  of  niodcrato 
oust,  siibinittud  hv  Tlio  Craftsman 
for  Noveiiil)i.'r,  is  intended  simply 
to  advance  certain  ideas  as  to  the 
use  of  color,  as  color,  on  the  exterior  of 
buildino-s  and,  as  well,  to  siigo-est  tiie  de- 
sira!)ilit_v  of  the  "sun-parlor"  in  tiie  houses 
of  tliis  class. 

It  is  intended  that  the  house  shall  l)e 
liuilt  of  "run  of  the  kiln"  stock  brick. 
l'})on  this  brick  foundation  will  be  placed, 
in  tile  ii>iial  maniier,  with  t'xpanded  metal 
lath,  etc.,  an  outer  covering  of  cement,  to  hv 
later  described.  The  roof  is  of  tin,  painted 
black,  while  the  exterior  wood-work  is  white. 

At  the  time  of  the  Renascence,  form  was 
thought  to  be  the  chief  requisite,  and  the 
monotonous  graj'  and  jellow"  structures 
built  from  the  sixtccntii  ccntur}'  down  to 
the  present  time,  while  interesting  as  studies 
in  proportion  and  formal  composition,  have 
Httle  more  vitality  than  the  skeleton  of  a 
mastodon.  In  fact,  were  it  not  for  the 
accumulation  of  the  grime  which  has  found 
lodgment  in  the  recesses  of  the  carvings  and 
mouldings,  most  of  them  would  be  no  more 
interesting  to  tlie  average  observer  than  a 
problem  in  Kuclid. 

In  a  half-hearted  way,  the  men  oi  the 
N'ictorian  Gothic  revival  attempted  tiie  use 
of  color  in  their  works,  but  the  result  was 
too  tentative  to  he  taken  with  serious  con- 
sideration: since  these  architects  lacked  tiie 
calculated  audacity  of  the  Arab  designers, 
wiio,  combining  tiie  pure  primary  colors  in 


small  (luaiit  it  ies,  produced  decorative  re- 
sults, refined,  iiarmonious  and  glowing. 

Tile  element  of  cost  is,  of  course,  a  seri- 
ous consideration  in  domestic  work,  and  tlie 
methods  of  color  decoration,  just  mentioned, 
would,  for  this  reason  at  least,  lie  practi- 
cally prohiljited  in  our  own  countr}'. 

In  tiic  design  here  presented,  an  effort 
lias  iieeii  made  to  plan  a  house  of  moderate 
cost,  whit'li  shall  have  an  adequate  amount 
of  coloration  evolved  from  tiie  materials 
theinselves.  and  attained  without  .anv  extra 
exjiense,  save  that  which  is  tiie  accompani- 
iiieiit  of  tiiougiitful  stiuiy. 

It  will  be  discovered  by  tiic  careful  stii- 
(liiit  that  the  .Xrali  designers  distinguisiied 
siiar])ly  lietween  exterior  and  interior 
schemes  of  decoration  :  the  interiors  lieing 
literally  embroidered  witli  all-over  patterns 
of  exceeding  intricacy,  done  with  comple- 
mentary colors  in  tlieir  pure  state.  Tiiese 
interiors,  owing  to  climatic  conditions,  as 
far  as  ciiiaroscuro  is  concerned,  are  in  a 
state  of  half  tone,  and  this  fact,  togetiier 
witii  the  smallness  of  tlie  particles  of  pure 
color,  and  tlieir  close  jiroximity,  causes  them 
literallv  to  mix  in  the  evi':  a  condition  abso- 
lutely impossible  in  tliis  climate,  wiiere  tlie 
marked  preponderance  of  gray  days  makes 
anytiiing  like  tlie  deliberate  planning  of 
colors  impossible,  save  at  sufficient  distance 
for  tiie  atmospiiere  to  lend  assistance;  nor 
is  it  possiiiie  to  accept  for  ourselves  tiie 
strong  wiiite,  vivid  reds  and  raw  greens, 
wiiicii,   in   warm  climates,  are  iirougiit  to  a 


1  .■.:( 


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THE   CRAFTSMAN 


lianiKiiiiims  wlmlr  liv  tlie  color-di'stroviufi; 
(Hialitics  of  l)rilli,-iiit  suiisliini'.  We  shall 
find  aid  in  our  prohleiii  in  the  siin|)li',  iv- 
strained  color  sclu'ines  found  in  the  hettcr 
.lapanc  sr  eohu'  print--.  Here  we  have  colors 
of  the  utmost  .sui)tlety  combined  frankly 
with  that  delicate  ajipreciation  of  the  inti- 
mate relations  of  tones  whicli  is  the  despair 
of  the  ( )ecidental  decorator. 

Therefore,  actin^f  upon  the  suo'o-estions 
of  these  inspired  workmen,  let  us  study  the 
simple  materials  at  our  command. 

Cement,  in  its  various  brands,  possesses, 
within  a  limited  ran<j;e,  colors  which  may  be 
modified  or  accentuated,  as  desired,  by  the 
aid  of  earth  colors,  such  as  yellow  ochre, 
burnt  sienna,  raw  umber,  and  kindred  jiig- 
meiits  :  excepting-,  of  coiu'se.  the  modifica- 
tions duo  to  the  liglit  and  dark  arrange- 
ments of  the  elevations. 


Let  thei'e  be  a])plie(l  on  the  darkest  por- 
tions of  the  rough  brick  skeleton,  a  cement 
which,  having  been  lowered  to  a  half  tone 
with  raw  uml)er,  jiroduces  a  full  olive  brown. 
Those  parts  which  show  white  in  the  draw- 
ings are  covered  with  ])ure  La  Farge  ce- 
ment, wliich,  wlien  set,  gives  a  fine,  creamy 
white.  Lnbeddcd  in  this  latter,  on  the  front, 
is  a  combination  cement  inlay  in  sgraff'itto 
work,  not  at  all  difficult  of  execution  by  the 
ordinary  mason,  and  absolutely  permanent 
when  com])leted.  The  body  of  this  decora- 
tion is  of  2>alc  yellow  ochre.  When  it  is  set 
and  thoroughly  liard,  the  design  is  pounced 
on  the  same  from  tiie  cartoon  and  afterward 
deeplv  traced  with  a  chisel.  That  portion 
of  the  design  which  has  the  conventional 
tree-to])s  is  removed  and  replaced  by  a  sage 
green  cement  ;  while  the  deeply  incised  lines 
ai'e   filled    with   .a    cement   darkened   heavily 


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THE   CRAFTSMAN 


uitli  laiiijililni-k  111  iii'ilrr  to  insure  a  strong 
outliiir.  Tlic  i^'aiimt  <it'  warm  tones  is  now- 
well  begun,  hut  it  laeks  a  note  of  orange 
and  a  cool  color  to  gi\e  value  to  the  liar- 
iHonv.  wiiich,  while  pleasant  enough  in  it- 
self, needs  the  vitality  to  be  gained  only  by 
()j)])osition.  An  examination  of  the  design 
indicates  the  front  door  as  the  focal  ])oint 
for  the  orange  note;  which  is  su])])lied  by  a 
co])j)er  sheathing  with  repousse  ornamenta- 
tion. This,  with  the  foundation,  ste))s, 
front  door  frame,  copings,  window  caps, 
etc.,  in  Hudson  River  blue  stone,  or  its 
e((uivalent,  completes  the  chord  of  color. 

The  interior,  as  an  inspection  of  the 
j)lans  will  show,  is  absolutely  simjile  and 
strictlv  conforms  to  the  recjuirements  of  use- 
fulness and  economy. 

The  house  is  i-ntered  at  the  centi/r.  with 
the  main  staircase  loi'ated  in  front  and 
Hanking  the  front  door.  Directly  opposite 
is  the  reception  alcove  wiili  a  tire-])!ace,  and 
on  the  left  of  the  hall  I  he  morning  room, 
which  is  more  than  ordinarily  import.-int  for 


a  residence  of  this  size.  This  room  has  for 
its  purely  decorative  feature  a  frieze  of 
mofif.i  adaj)ted  from  the  symbolic  ornament 
of  the  North  American  Indians.  It  is 
formed  of  asbestos  tiles  in  shades  of  dull 
blue,  sage  green  and  lemon  yellow.  The 
walls  of  the  room,  up  to  the  frieze,  are  cov- 
ereil  w  ith  Craftsman  canvas  of  pomegranate 
shade.  The  facing  of  the  large  fire-place  is 
also  of  asbestos  tiles  in  varying  shades  of 
deep  French  blue  and  moss  green.  Hero  the 
woodwoi-k,  as  also  in  the  hall  and  dining- 
room,  is  of  fumed  oak ;  the  design  of  the 
floor,  with  the  modifications  incident  to  the 
different  dimensions,  being  illustrated  in 
another  pcn'tion  of  the  present  issue  of  The 
Craftsman.  'J'he  ceiling  of  this  room  is 
finished  with  iil.ister  with  the  color  of  pale 
lemon  v<'llo\v. 

The  liall  is  treated  witli  extreme  simplic- 
ity, being  wainscoted  to  the  ceiling  with 
wide  boards  of  fumed  oak,  having  vertical 
semi-beaded  joints.  The  ceiling  is  beanu'd. 
with    vellow     •i)utclier's     paper"    carefully 


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Hi.' 


A    XO'l'K    Ui"    C()IA)H 

Imtt- joiiitrd    botwi'eii    tlie    sanu'.    «lillo    tlio  contains   n    lai'j>o   sloiv-rooiii    and    an    addi- 

floor  is  of  cbonized  clierrv.  tionul  servant's  bed-room. 

Tlic  walls  of  the  dining-room  aro  coxcri'd  Tiie  "sun-parlor,"  located, for  privacy, in 
with  sand-finished,  orange-colored  plaster,  tlu'  second  story,  has,  as  siiown.  a  front  and 
and  decorated  at  irregular  intervals  with  a  roof  of  glass  :  that  of  the  roof  being  ham- 
Craftsman  tapestries  of  varying  sizes,  illus-  mered,  and  constructeil  in  the  manner  usual 
trating  episodes  in  the  life  of  Sir  (tawain,  and  proper  for  sky-lights,  and  j)rovided 
the  Green  Knight.      The  ceiling  is  paneled  w  ith  proper  drainage. 

with   wooden   beams   and   is   tinted   in   pale  The  interior  walls  are  finished  in  Harvard 

tones  of  green  and  old  rose,  while  the  floor  brick;  pale  yellow  for  the  body  of  the  walls 

is  of  brown  fumed  oak.  and  with  a  pal  tern  in  brown  .md  iilack  for  a 

The  kitchen  and  its  dependencies  are  fin-  frieze,      'i'he  floor   is  laid   in  large  cement 

ished  in  Georgia  pine,  with  the  exception  of  tiles  (fourteen  by  fourteen  inches)  with  two 

the  floors,   which   are  of  hard   maple,   and  and  one-quarter  inch  joint  lietwciri :  the  lat- 

stained    with    Prussian    blue    to    the    color  ter  filled  with  ordinary  hard  burnt  red  brick, 

known  as  moss-green.  sj)lit  lengthwise  and  set  on  edge.    The  glaz- 

The  decoration  of  the  entrance   hall   is  ing  of  the  front  of  the  "sun-parlor"  is  so 

continued  uj)  the  staircase,  and  through  the  adjusted  as  to  be  removable  in  warm  weath- 

hall  on  the  second  floor.      The  bed-rooms,  er,  by  which  device  the  sj)ace  is  converted 

bath-room,  etc.,  are  finished  in  ash,  having  into  a  quasi  roof-garden.      This  makes   it 

a  warm  olive  tone;  the  walls  being  covered  practicable    to    dispense    with    tlu'    too    in- 

with  sand-finished  plaster,  stained  with  shel-  tiniate  front  porch,  which  is  not  only  objec- 

lac,  tempered  with  such  ])igmcnts  as  may  be  tionable   from   an  aesthetic   point  of  view, 

desired,   according   to   the    location   of  the  but,   in    many    respects,   a   positive   att'ront 

room.      The  attic,  which  is  not  illustrated,  to  the  passerby. 


I  NOW  RKQUIHE  TillS  OF  ALL  PICTUHKS,  THAT  THEY  DOMESTI- 
CATE ME,  NOT  THAT  THEY  DAZZLE  MK.  I'ICTUUES  MUST  NOT  HE 
TOO  PICTURESQUE.  NOTHING  ASTONISHES  MEN  SO  MUCH  AS  COM- 
MON SENSE  AND  I'l.AlX  DEALING.  ALL  GUKAI  ACTIONS  HAVE 
BEEN  SIMPLE,  AND  ALL  (Ilil'.AT  PICTUKES  AUE. 

KAI.I'II      \\'.\l,l)0     IISIKUSOX 


HARDWOOD  FLOORS 


PHOHAIJIA'  till'  most  ahiisrd  insti- 
tiitlon  m  coniU'ction  \\  itli  Iniildiiii;' 
()|Hrati(iiis  IS  Hie  hardwood  floor. 
\\'liik'  otiicr  |)ortioiis  of  tlic  Imild- 
ing'  arc  f^iveii  tlioui;'lit,  carr,  and  personal 
di'sioii,  tile  hard«<iod  floor  is  si'leeted  in  a 
perfunctorv  manner  from  one.  or  possihly 
two  cafalof^'ues  issued  iiv  makers  of  hard- 
wood floors;  therehv  laiHinj;'  it  in  the  same 
Ciite<);orv  with  stoek  mantel-pieces,  pressed 
mouldings  and  like  ahominatioirs  that  flood 
the  land  to  the  utter  destruction  of  the  in<li- 
vidualitv  of  the  axera^'e  home. 

It  would  sccin   that  the  floor,  which  is  as 
import.ant  from  the  structur.al  ))oint  of  view 


as  the  ceiling',  and  more  often  seen,  should 
he  treated  with  a  certain  .■unount  of  courtesy 
liy  the  desin-ner.  Thi'  architect,  or  whoso- 
ever lays  out  the  structure,  approaches  the 
design  of  the  ceiling  with  more  or  less  rever- 
ence and  invests  fidly  as  much  thought  on 
this  portion  of  tlie  structure  as  on  any  other. 
The  ordinary  hardwood  floor  seems  to 
l)ear  no  more  relation  to  the  room  in  which 
it  is  ])lace(l  than  so  much  oil-cloth  or  lino- 
leum, which  indeed  it  very  much  reseinhles, 
although  the  oil-cloth  is  usually  much  bet- 
ter in  design  th.aii  the  stock  floor. 

In  the  m.aking  of  these  flooi's  the  jierson 
who  IS  responsihle  for  them  seems  to  he  in  a 
delightful  st.ate  of  UlU'er- 
taiiity  as  to  whether  they 
are  a  structural  element  of 
the  house  or  simply  a 
wooden  mosaic,  and  with 
this  uncertainty  in  mind 
attempts  to  ride  the  two 
liorses  going  in  opposite 
directions,  with  the  usual 
distressing  result. 

The  hardwood  floor  is, 
of  course,  in  the  jiropcrly 
constructed  iiuilding,  laid 
on  to[)  of  a  sub-floor  of  a 
cheaper  m.aterial,  as  a  sup- 
])ort,  thus  indicating  at 
once  that  the  superimposed 
is  a  wood  mosaic  pure  and 
simple,  or.  if  the  term  is 
more  pleasing,  a  wooden 
rug.      Accepting  this  fact, 


IIAHDWOOI)    rrooHs 


why  then  are  not  wood 
floors  di'sifjnccK  as  ru^'s 
uoulil  \k\  witli  a  (letiiiiti'lv 
considurud  pattorn  tliat 
sliall  take  into  considera- 
tion tlic  materials  in  wliich 
it  is  made,  as  vou  would 
consitJer  the  wool  in  tlie 
rno\  instead  of  putting 
down  an  absolutely  mean- 
ingless border,  lifted  with- 
out any  too  nuicii  intelli- 
gence from,  it  niav  be,  the 
Saracenic  nv  Renascence 
motives,  and  put  down, 
without  riiyme  or  reason, 
in  a  house  that  is  trying 
iionestly  to  be  itself  with- 
out regard  to  precedent  or 
styles,  thus  ruining  any 
claim  tiiat  the  building 
may  advance  to  jjossess 
style. 

With  these  tliouglits  in 
mind  tlie  accompanying 
designs  are  presented, 
wiiich  are  the  products  of 
tlie  Craftsman  Shops,  and 
are,  so  far  as  tlie  pattern 
is  concerned,  self-explana- 
tory. These  designs  have 
l)een  in\ariably  reproduced 
in  ash,  oak  or  cherry,  tin 
latter  being  used  only 
where  the  floor  is  ebonized, 
as  is  the  ca.se  in  the  last  de- 
sign rej)roduccd  in  this  ar 
tide.  This  particular  pat- 
tern has  some  features 
which  entitle  it  to  especial 
mention. 


THK    CRAFTSMAN 


Till-  McKir  l)ii,n-(ls,  winch 
nrv  twelve  iiu'lies  in  w  iiUh, 
are  of  clierry,  cbonized, 
and  have  between  tlieni 
stri[)s  of  whitewood  three- 
quarters  of  an  incli  in 
widtli  :  and  at  eacli  end  of 
every  other  hoard  is  a 
panel,  as  miheatec]  liv  the 
drawiiio-,  niade  up  of 
<-lierr_Y  and  wliitewood. 

Tlie  wliitewood  is  left  in 
its  natural  state,  and  the 
result  is  extremely  attract- 
ive, in  s])ite  of  the  seeming 
audiu'ity  of  the  combina- 
tion. 'I'he  jiroblem  pre- 
sented by  the  finish  of  tlie 
same  is,  however,  consider- 
ably more  com})licated  and 
demands  careful  attention. 
The  usual  methods  of 
preparing'  hardwood  floors 
involves  generally  the  use 
of  varnishes  or  wax,  both 
cullino-  for  constant  care 
to  preserve  anything  like 
their  ordinary  states;  both 
are  slippery  and  difficult 
to  walk  upon  and,  when 
new,  offensively  brilliant, 
and  when  worn,  offensively 
-lull. 

The  floors  illustratetl  in 
thi.s  article  are  first  treated 
witb  an  a])plication  of 
t»entv->ix  jiroof  annnonia, 
thereby  gi\ing  tlieiii  the 
desiivd  shade  of  color, 
which  is  known  as  fumed; 
the    name    obviously    bein<T 


Kit; 


A\   ORDIXAKV    HOO.M 


(lcri\i(l  t'roni  tlio  punii-ont 
gas  given  ofi'  hv  the  am- 
monia. I'pon  tiiis  is 
placed  shellac,  treated  in 
such  a  manner  that  while 
the  shellac  retains  the  pro- 
tective qualities  of"  a  hard 
varnish,  the  surface  is  ai)- 
solutelv  matt  and  has  no 
more  polish  than  the  sur- 
face of  an  egg  shell.  This 
finish,  which  is  peculiar  to 
the  Craftsman  Shops,  has 
the  merit  of  being  easilv 
and  quickly  applied  and 
absolutely  permanent,  as 
well  as  requiring  no  weekly 
polishing  or  other  of  the 
heartrending  operations  in- 
cident to  the  care  of  the 
usual  hardwood  floor. 


WHAT  MAY  BE  DONE  WITH  AN 
ORDINARY  ROOM 


THE  scheme  of  decoration  and  fur- 
nishing herewith  illustrated  is  a 
solution  of  a  problem  presented  to 
The  Craftsman  within  the  recent 
month.  The  room  in  itself,  minus  the  dec- 
oration, is  the  ordinary,  average  room 
found  in  the  average  liou.ses  that  abound  in 
every  city.  The  walls  arc  the  usual  lime 
putty  hard  finish  plaster;  the  ceiling  of 
the  same,  and  the  floors  of  (ieorgia  pine. 

In  connection  with  the  prime  considera- 
tion of  the  decoration  of  the  room  was  inti- 
mately related  the  factor  of  economy.  Hav- 
ing this  in  mind,  the  walls,  up  to  the  bottom 


of  the  frieze,  were  covered  with  cartridge 
paper  of  a  half-tone  green,  upon  which 
was  outlined  and  stenciled  a  formal  floral 
pattern  of  considerable  dignity.  The  leaf- 
age of  this  pattern  is  of  blue  inclining  to 
])urp!e,  with  lemon  yellow  flowers  and  dull 
l)urnt  orange  .stems;  all  vigorously  outlined 
in  dark  brown. 

The  ceiling  was  tinteil  uj)on  the  hard  fin- 
isli,  a  j)ale,  somewhat  warm-toned  gray,  and 
the  floor  was  of  Georgia  pine,  stained 
to  a  rich  warm  brown.  The  casings  and 
base  board,  which  had  formerly  been  paint- 
ed a  not  too  agreeable  shade  of  gray,  were 


Ki; 


^^s 

SI 

BB 

m 

9- 

Eil__ 

'  >     J.-'  -.--"Hmss 

^fe 

=— 

v^^~-S~'=^**^=a^ 

«te^-- 

p* 

^ 

1^^ 

i-a»:' 

.. 

CAXVAS   rORTIERES 


replaced  with  facings  of  tlic  sjime  design, 
of  Georgia  pine,  and  treated  in  a  manner 
identical  with  the  floor. 

Upon  liglit  brass  rods  tlie  window  open- 
ings are  draped  with  Ciiina  silk  in  delicate 
shades  of  English  red,  turquoise  blue  and 
a  pale  tawny  vellow.  This  scheme  of  color 
is  continued  in  the  Albee  rug,  with  a  body 
of  subdued  yellow  and  a  border  of  cool 
tones  of  blue  and  green.  These  vai'yiiig 
colors  are  brought  together  and  focused  in 
the  Craftsman  pillows,  shown  in  the  design, 
which  are  of  hues  of  pomegranate,  pale  tan, 
purple  and  blue.  The  furniture  of  the 
room,  which  consists  of  a  bookcase,  settle, 
three  chairs  and  a  table,  is  finished  in  fumed 
oak,  which  iiannonizes  most  admirably  with 
the  rest  of  the  woodwork.  The  screen 
of  Craftsman  canvas,  and  the  lamp  of  brass 
are  also  productions  of  the  Craftsman 
Shops.  The  result,  wliile  produced  with 
extreme  economy,  is  most  satisfactoi-y  and 
is  recommended  to  the  careful  attention  and 
studj-  of  the  readers  of  this  magazine  as 
an  example  of  what  ma}'  be  done  in  a  rather 
commonplace  room  by  the  exercise  of 
trained  judgment  and  a  practical  knowl- 
edge of  the  relationship  between  fabrics, 
furniture  and  fixtures. 


crafts:man  canvas 
portieres 

1  OVERS    of    primitive    simplicity    in 
household  decoration  find  a  charni 
^  in  tiie  pillows,  covers  and  hangings 
tliat  are  being  designed  and  made 
in     the     Craftsman     Workshops.     Three 
unique  designs  for  pillows  appeared  in  the 
September  Craftsman. 


This   month   we   present    illustrations  of 
two  pairs  of  portieres  that  are  very  effec- 


tive in  the  quaint  .-^Miibolisni  of  their  pat- 
tern, and  the  skilful  blending  of  their 
colors.  They  are  made  entirely  by  hand, 
and  could  easily  be  reproduced  in  the  home. 

The  pictures  fail  to  tell  the  story  of  tiie 
soft,  firm,  pliable  fabrics,  in  exquisite  warm 
colorings  and  soft  dull  half-tones.  Neither 
do  they  suggest  the  durability  that  is  a 
point  of  merit  in  these  Craftsman  canvases. 

The  patterns  are  in  tiie  spirit  of  the  art 
of  the  Pueblo  Indian  tribes,  as  shown  in 
their  basketry  and  pottery. 

The  pine-tree  curtain — whose  primitive 
motif  is   descril)ed   by   tlie   designer  as   "a 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


glorification  of  tlie  j)ine-tree" — is  in 
Craftsman    canvas    in    tlio    soft    ivd    shade 


known  as  pomogranato.  The  wavv  liands 
— sucTCTcstine-  water — and  the  sun  ami  moon 
are  in  applique ;  the  water  lieing  in  old  blue. 


ade  of  the  sun  in  natural  canvas,  and  the  moon  in 
old  blue  with  dull  green  crescent  shadow. 
The  pine-trees  are  embroidered  in  olive 
green  linen  floss.  The  large  pine-tree  out- 
line, which  seems  to  unify  the  whole  pattern, 
is  worked  in  natural  floss.  All  other  out- 
lines are  in  natural  floss,  except  the  edge 
and  ravs  of  the  sun,  which  are  clear  yellow, 
and  the  small  figures  above  the  water  and 
inside  the  little  squares,  which  are  olive 
green. 

Tlu'  other  portiere,  embroidered  in  moun- 
tain-ash design,  has  a  gray  green  canvas 
f(n-  its  foundation — a  soft,  cool,  willow 
shade.  The  outlines  are  all  traced  in  dull 
yellow  green,  as  are  the  little  trees.  The 
large  tree  symbols  are  ajipliqucS  of  canvas 
in  a  greenish  blue;  and  the  warm  crimson 
of  the  clusters  of  berries  strikes  a  note  of 
rich  color  that  gratifies  tlie  eye  with  a  pleas- 
ing sense  of  contrast.  The  jagged  bands, 
a  conventionalized  cloud  effect,  are  of  nat- 
ural canvas,  applique,  and  their  tiny 
squares  and  the  round  berries  near  the  bot- 
tom of  the  curtain  are  worked  in  the  crim- 
son floss. 

The  berries  embroidered  in  clusters  on 
the  (lull  blue  trees  are  done  in  French  knots ; 
all  the  rest  of  the  needlework  is  in  simple 
outline  stitch. 


TOO  PHEVALKXT  IS  THF,  CONVICTION  TH.VT  GOOD  ART  DOKS  NOT 
DO  SO  VERY  MUCH  GOOD,  AND  THAT  BAD  ART  DOES  NOT  DO  SO 
VERY  MUCH  HARM.  THE  EXCELLENCE  AND  VERITY  OF  ART,  NEXT 
TO  MORALS.  IS  THE  HUMAN  SOUL'S  SALVATION. 

GEOnC.F.     W.     CABLE 


no 


Dfforativc  border.  Winter 


A  BELGIAN  DECORATIVE  ARTIST 
MADAME  DE  RUDDER 

With  a   prt-tacf  and   translatrd   frinn   tlii'   Fri-iicli   by    IiiKXK  Sakgest 


THE  C-RAFTS:MAX  for  October 
presented  illustrations  of  the  racial 
art  of  the  Russians,  which  was  seen 
to  be  barbaric — as  one  might  say, 
elemental, — vigorous,  full  of  accent,  and 
characterized  by  a  passion  for  crude  color. 
From  such  a  study  it  is  interesting  to  turn 
to  a  wholly  opposite  evidence  of  the  aesthet- 
ic sense,  as  shown  b}'  a  tj-pical  representa- 
tive of  a  people  of  liigh  civilization  and  old 
artistic  culture;  by  one  in  whom  are  revived 
the  qualities  which  produced  the  civic  splen- 
dor of  the  Low  Countries.  The  Belgian 
needlewoman,  whose  work  is  about  to  be 
discussed,  received  her  genius  from  hercditv. 
and  her  inspiration  from  iier  environment; 
while  her  patience  is  the  very  same  as  that 
which  animated  the  old  craftsmen  of  the 
teeming,  laborious  cities  of  the  Netherlands, 
who  wrought  when  art  was  still  religion ; 
who  diligently  fought  and  repaired  the  in- 


roads of  the  sea,  and  disputed  the  soil  of 
the  Fatherland. incii  by  inch, with  the  Span- 
ish usurper. 

It  is  hopeful  tiius  to  note  among  widelv 
differing  peoples  the  renewal  of  their  early 
and  strong  characteristics.  It  is  a  sisn 
that  their  old  spirit  which  marked  them  off 
from  other  groups  and  nations,  and  created 
tlieir  distinctive  life,  is  now  rising,  like  sap 
in  springtime,  to  j)ro(luoe  new  blossoms  and 
fruit. 

So  judged,  the  work  of  INIme.  de  Rudder 
becomes  for  us  simply  the  latest  stage  in  a 
characteristic  art  which  is  the  outcome  of 
tlie  guild-.system  and  of  many  other  deeply- 
concealed  causes  which  exist  in  the  Flemish 
nature,  like  iiidden  rivers  flowing  beneath 
the  streets  of  a  populous  town. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  the  production  of 
textiles  made  the  Low  Countries  famous  and 
rich;     while     their     geographical     position 


171 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


(IfC'orativc  tapestry,  and  sent  out  from  its 
looms  tlie  translations  into  textiles  of  tlie 
great  cartoons  of  Rapliael.  Her  art  is 
appreciated  by  lier  countrymen,  and  her 
works    are   received    into   the    places   whicli 


facilitated    the    disposal    of    their    finished 

fabrics.      For  hundreds  of  years  the  patient 

weavers  went  on  perfecting  their  craft,  un- 
til  in  the   sixteenth   century,   the   wars   of 

religion   stretched   an    iron   hand   over   the 

Catholic  provinces,  and  the  gossiping  looms 

of  Antwerp  and  Ghent  lapsed  into  deatli- 

like  silence.      But  there  had  been  no  decay 

or  degeneracy  in  the  craft.      The  memory 

of  the  skill  attained  by  such  expenditure  of 

time,    energy    and    intelligence,    remained 

with    the    people    as    an    inspiration.      The 

guild-spirit,  which,  at  its  best,  was  an  un- 
remitting effort  toward  perfection,  lived  on 

in  the  masterpieces  which  it  liad  produced 

in  both  the  fine  and  the  industrial  arts. 
These  facts  will  account  for  tlie  technical 

perfection  wliicli  characterizes  the  Flemish, 

or  rather  Belgian  textiles  of  to-day.  Their 
artistic  qualities  proceed  from  equally  re- 
mote and  e(|ually  vital  causes.  The  love  of 
beautiful  stuffs  was  developed  among  the 
Flemings  by  their  early  commercial  rela- 
tions with  Italy  and'the  East.  The  eyes  of 
the  people  living  in  an  atmosphere  of  mists 
and  clouds,  found  intense  pleasure  in  sump- 
tuous color,  while  the  gradations  of  tone 
were  not  lost  upon  these  sensitive  organs,  as 
upon  the  Italians  living  in  an  atmosphere 
suffused  with  light  and  therefore  destruc- 
tive of  local  color.  The  aesthetic  sense  of 
the  Flemings  has  .shown  itself  as  persistent 
as  their  manual  skill,  and  both  are  evi- 
denced to  a  high  degree  in  the  personality 
and  work  of  the  Belgian  needlewoman  who 
stands  as  the  first  representative  of  her 
craft  in  the  modern  world,  while  she  has 
devised,  invented  and  improved,  until  none 
who  have  preceded,  can  be  compared  with 
her.      She  is  a  typical  child  of  her  country, 

one  of  whose  cities.  Arras,  gave  its  name  to         i>ru.lfiu-i-;  Province  House,  Gheut 


I  7-i 


MADA.MK    1)K    iUDDEK 


I'herc  was  a 

tlicv  best  ileserve  and  deconitu.  In  tlie  re- 
vival of  civic  pride  and  municipal  beautv 
at  present  sweeping  through  the  old  Flem- 
ish provinces,  now  constituted  into  the  king- 
dom of  Belyium,  ^Ime.  de  Kudder  is  recoe- 
nized  as  an  important  factor.  Her  tapes- 
tries adorn  the  Town  Hall  of  Brussels  and 
the  Province  House  of  Ghent,  recalling  the 
old  racial  art  of  Flanders,  but  adding  there- 
to the  modern  spirit  which  sliows  the  touch 
of  the  creative  genius. 

The  work  of  this  artist  has  been  effect- 
ively studied  b_v  IM.  ^'erneuil,  and  it  is  his 
appreciation  which  we  offer,  adapted  from 
the  original  French,  in  which  it  appeared 
in  the  September  issue  of  Art  et  Decoration. 

It  is  seldom  that  an  artist  really  worthy 
of  the  name :  that  is,  one  who,  having  ac- 
quired a  solid  and  deep  knowledge  of  the 
art  of  drawing,  painting  or  sculpture,  re- 
signs himself  to  produce  decoration,  before 
having  attempted  what  the  world  at  large 
calls  "grand  art." 

Few     j)ersons     feel     spontaneously     the 


.-hcphi  nil,-- 

charms  of  aj)plied  art ;  few  apprehend  the 
j)leasures  that  it  procures  for  its  fervent 
disciples.  Almost  ail,  on  tlie  contrary, 
dazzled  by  the  brilliant,  but  all  too  rare 
glories  of  painting  or  scul])ture,  burn  their 
wings  at  this  splcndiil  but  deceptive  torch, 
only  to  return  disillusionized  to  an  art 
wortiiy  nevertheless  of  attracting  them  be- 
fore all  others. 

For  this  reason  we  should  honor  those 
enthusiasts  who  understand  without  experi- 
ence the  high  mission  of  the  decorator;  who 
are  able  to  enjoy  the  simple  pleasures  of 
industrial  art.  Among  such  nnist  be  placed 
Madame  de  Rudder,  who  has  restored  the 
beautiful  art  of  embroidery  and  has  equaled 
by  her  work  tlie  finest  pieces  as  yet  pro- 
duced. 

This  artist  has  already  hatl  a  busy  and 
successful,  although  short  career,  upon 
which  it  may  be  well  to  cast  a  rapid  glance. 
Her  first  studies  were  pursued  in  a  profes- 
sional school  at  Brussels,  in  conjunction 
with  private  lessons  in  drawing  and  paint- 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


i  »<'ci)r;iri\*-  l>«>rilfi  :  Autiiiirii 


iiig  received  l>y  her  from  ]Mlle.  ]\I.irla  <le 
Rudder,  lierM'lf  the  piijiil  of  lier  own  broth- 
er, tlie  well  known  J{elj;i,ui  sculptor.  Hut 
no  idea  of  utili/.in;;-  her  aciiuiremeuts  had 
iMitered  the  mind  of  the  young  girl,  when 
she  married  the  brother  of  her  instructor, 
and  thus  became  IVIme.  de  Rudder.  The 
newlv  married  artists  at  cnice  felt  the  charm 
of  collaboration,  but  it  was  oidy  after  a 
period  of  indii'ect  elfcn-ts  that  their  real 
vocation  was  discoxcred. 

These  first  attempts  were  simple  embroid- 
eries designed  to  decorate  furniture:  chairs 
and  similar  piet-es  ;  such,  although  interest- 
ing, did  not  vet  ])romise  the  artistic  devel- 
opment which  was  to  follow  tliese  still  timid 
ert'orts.  But  the  thougb.t  came  to  the  nee- 
dlewoman that  what  she  did  for  flowers  she 
might  accom|ilisli  for  a  figure  or  a  heatl. 
In  this  new  departure  she  was  successful, 
.■mil  her  path  o})ened  before  her. 

At  thaf  time,  she  wished  to  })rep.-ire  a 
significant  gift  for  ,M.  C'oiirtens.  the  Bel- 
gian p.ainter,  who,  at  the  Paris  Exposition 
of  1889,  had  won  the  medal  of  honor  by 
his  picture,  entitled:  "The  Rain  of  Ciold," 
an  alletrorv  of  autumn  and  of  the  fall  of 
the  leaves.  ]Mme.  de  Rudiier  therefore 
chose  a  similar  sul)ject,  and  embroidered  a 
rain   of  flowers   in   a  scheme   of  sumptuous 


color.  'I'lie  recipient  of  the  gift,  "SI.  four- 
tens,  was  most  enthusiastic  over  the  result 
of  the  work,  and  strongly  counselled  the 
sculptor  and  his  wife  to  follow  the  way 
which  so  auspiciously  opened  before  them: 
the  way  which,  being  followed,  led  to  the 
splendid  accomplishments  which  are  here  to 
be  described. 

The  first  example  of  this  collaboration 
was  shown  at  the  exliibition  of  the  associa- 
tion Pour  VArt.  held  in  1894.  It  was  a 
])anel  entitled:  "Eagle  and  Swan;'"  the  de- 
sign being  embroidered  upon  an  effective 
faliric  as  a  background.  The  same  piece 
was  afterwaril  seen  at  the  Secessionist  Ex- 
position, at  \'ienna,  and  there  purchased  by 
an  amateur  of  reputation.  Pieces  of  the 
same  character  quickly  followed  one  anoth- 
er; originality  and  merit  increasing,  as  is 
too  seldom  the  case,  with  the  number  of  the 
works  produced. 

Resolutely  attacking  difficulties  before 
which  less  CDurageous  workers  would  have 
retired,  ^Ime.  de  Rudder  composed  a  screen 
from  the  subject  of  the  "Eates,"  which,  like 
the  story  of  Penelope  and  the  fable  of 
Arachne,  is  one  of  the  most  appropriate  in 
the  wliole  range  of  literature  for  treatment 
in  needlework.  In  the  execution  of  this 
screen  the  artist  used,  for  tiie  first  time,  a 


17+ 


17.-. 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


method  wliicli  she  h.is  since  Ifirgelv  em- 
ployed. In  lier  panel  of  the  "Eagle  and 
Swan,"'  she  had  simply  embroidered  the 
decorative  motif  upon  a  fabric  background  ; 
but  in  the  "Fates"'  screen  she  enlarged  the 
possibilities  of  her  effects  b}-  an  appliqiu' 
of  stuff's  differing  in  texture.  P^or  the 
draperies  of  the  goddesses,  she  chose  old 
Flemish,  French,  and  Italian  silks,  certain 
of  which  lieing  torn,  she  was  forced  to  sup- 
plement through  the  addition  of  decorative 
7iiotifs:  these  liiding  the  defects  of  the 
fabrics,  and,  at  the  same  time,  creating  a 
new  resource  for  the  needlewoman,  who  had 
thus  at  lier  disposal  three  methods :  embroid- 
ery upon  a  simple  background ;  fabric  ap- 
plied upon  fabric;  and  supplementary  em- 
broidery u])on  the  fabric  applied. 

The  screen  of  the  Fates,  finished  in  1896, 
was  exliibited  at  the  Artists'  Club  of  Brus- 
sels, where  it  attracted  the  attention  of  M. 
Buls,  then  burgomaster  of  tiie  cit}',  who 
recognizeil  at  once  the  possibilities  of  the 
artist  and  of  her  new  methods.  He  there- 
fore commissioned  her  to  jjrovide  the  deco- 
ration for  the  Marriage  Hall  of  the  great 
]Municij)al  Building.  In  consequence,  IMme. 
de  Rudder  and  her  husband  executed  in 
collaboration,  during  the  year  1896,  a 
charming  work  which  honors  not  only  the 
artists  who  conceived  and  executed  it,  but 
also  the  official  whose  discrimination  caused 
it  to  be  ci'eated. 

This  period  was  for  Mme.  de  Rudder  a 
time  of  constant,  rapid,  almost  feverish 
production.  Almost  simultaneously  with 
the  commission  for  the  Town  Hall  of  Brus- 
sels, she  received  from  M.  Yan  Yssendvck, ' 
architect  of  the  Province  House  of  Ghent, 
the  order  to  design  and  embroider  six  large 
allegorical  panels.      These  works  represent ; 

nti- 


Wisdom  under  the  guise  of  a  modernized 
]\Iinerva,  bearing  an  olive  branch;  Justice 
holding  a  thistle  and  the  s^-mbols  of  the 
Law ;  Eloquence  crowned  with  roses  and 
with  a  lyre  in  her  hand ;  Force  bending  a 
branch  of  oak  ;  Truth  witli  a  cornucopia 
and  holly. 

These  six  panels  are  remarkable  for  the 
subtile  decorative  sentiment  evident  through- 
out the  composition,  as  well  as  for  their  per- 
fect execution.  The  three  methods  :  applique, 
simple  embroidery,  and  embroidery  upon 
tiie  applique,  alternated  at  the  will  of  the 
executant,  concur  in  a  singularh'  harmo- 
nious effect.  But  it  is  noticeable  that,  con- 
trary' to  the  scheme  followed  in  the  "Fates," 
all  the  flesh  parts  are  here  embroidered. 

From  time  to  time,  the  artist  sought  re- 
lief from  the  fatigue  resulting  from  lier 
great  commissions,  by  composing  small 
panels,  which  l)ear  the  same  relation  to  her 
serious  work  that  light  comedy  bears  to  the 
drama.  Among  such  may  be  mentioned  a 
cat.  wiiich  is  a  marvel  of  patient,  artistic 
embroidery,  together  with  a  number  of 
little  scenes  illustrating  folk-songs  and 
luirsery  rhymes,  like  "There  was  a  shep- 
herdess," "In  the  moonlight."'  and  "We 
siiall  go  to  the  forest  no  more." 

Finally,  as  a  last  trial  of  incessant  activ- 
ity, the  artist  executed  for  the  Congo  Free 
State,  eight  large  panels  destined  to  deco- 
rate a  hall  in  the  Brussels  Exposition. 

These  ])anels.  now  in  the  Museum  at 
Tervueren.  Belgium,  are  most  interest- 
ing. Measuring  two  and  one-half  metres 
in  height,  by  one  and  one-fifth  in  width, 
they  are  executed  in  pure  applique,  with 
outline  embroidery.  They  are  typical  ex- 
hibition pieces,  very  interesting  as  such,  in 
both     composition     and    execution.      They 


17T 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


represent  the  triuiiij)h  ot"  civilization  over 
barbarism.  The  nude  and  the  negro  are 
originally  treated,  and  certain  panels, — as 
for  example  the  one  typifying  fetish-wor- 
ship— are  singular  and  striking. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  effort,  ]\Iine.  de 
Rudder  resolved  to  make  a  farther  step  in 
advance  by  attempting  great  works  of  dec- 
oration, bv  ])r()dncing  things  never  before 
accomplished  l)v  needlewomen.  Choosing 
the  Seasons  as  a  theme,  slie  designed  four 
panels,  each  two  metres  in  height,  by  tlu'ee 
in  width,  to  tinisli  which  she  devoted  seven 
years  of  close  labor;  working  as  always  in 
companionship  witli  her  husband,  but  in 
tliis  case  e\en  in  closer  artistic  sympathy 
with  him.  Tlu'se  jianels  constitute  the  most 
decisive  work  of  the  artistic  pair,  who  gave 
their  best  efforts  to  arrange  a  new  treatment 
of  an  old  theme.  They  thus  produced 
compositions  of  great  originality,  which 
form  a  complete  ])ocm,  a  cycle  of  human 
life.  In  these  compositions  all  is  carefully 
considered;  no  element  or  detail  residts  from 
cli.uice,  and  much  is  emblematic. 

Of  the  four  i)anels,  all  here  illustrated, 
the  first  two  comjileted.  Spring  and  Sum- 
mer, were  shown  at  tiie  Tui'in  Kxposition 
of  190!.'. 

The  panel  of  Spring  is  a  ])icture  of 
youth.  In  a  smiling  landsca])e,  amid  banks 
of  flowers,  children  play,  dance,  sing  and 
crown  themselves  with  blossoms.  A  sister 
just  verging  upon  womanliood,  holds  a 
child  frighft'ued  l)y  the  plav  of  a  young- 
goat,  while  su])erb  white  swans  are  swim- 
ming among  tall  iris  plants.  Sucli  is  the 
central  com|)osition,  brilliant  with  high- 
lights. This  is  enclosed  by  a  wide  border, 
which  is  in  itself  a  pastoral  poem,  like  an 
eclogue  of  Theocritus  (n-  Virgil.     The  up- 

I7S- 


per  part  of'  the  border  displavs  the  signs 
of  the  zodiac  framed  in  lilies  of  the  valley; 
swallows,  the  symbols  of  bright  davs  to 
come,  are  seen  in  tliglit,  while  other  birds 
are  making  their  nests.  The  vertical  bands 
of  the  frame  are  formed  by  decorative  ar- 
rangements of  flowers ;  the  low  er  part, 
scattered  with  lotus-blossoms,  suggests  the 
spring-tide  appearance  of  the  .streams  and 
ponds. 

In  the  panel  entitled  Sunmier,  the  color 
grows  w^armer.  Harvesters  reap  the  grain. 
Youths  are  bathing ;  a  fair,  yoinig  shepherd 
tells  his  love  to  his  shepherdess,  amid  the 
tall  flowers,  and  with  his  dog  at  his  feet. 
The  animal  is  a  marvel  of  color  and  needle- 
work. But  the  same  might  be  said  of  the 
whole  panel.  The  flowers  so  perfectly 
stutlied — lilies,  clematis,  thistles,  sun-tiow- 
ei's,  daisies,  poppies, — as  well  as  all  other 
details,  reveal  a  ]);itient  observation  of  na- 
ture, as  also  a  truthful  and  decorative 
interpretation  of  the  objects  represented. 
The  same  general  scheme  is  continued  in 
the  border.  Wheat-ears  and  daisies  frame 
the  signs  of  the  zodiac  at  the  top,  while 
hops  and  eglantine  roses  form  the  side 
bands;  the  base  showing  seaweed,  fish, 
crabs,  frogs  and  turtles,  as  symbols  of 
aquatic  life. 

The  panel  of  Autunui  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  successful  of  the  series.  A  3'oung 
mother  nurses  her  infant,  while  a  larger 
child  plavs  with  clusters  of  grapes  hanging 
from  a  trellis,  upon  which  rests  a  superb 
])eacock.  Oj)posite  the  peacock  and  bal- 
ancing it  in  color  and  richness  of  embroid- 
ery, there  is  a  magnificent  study  of  still 
life:  ])heasants  and  wild  boars,  hares  and 
ducks,  recalling  the  spoils  of  the  hunt,  are 
rendered  in  a  range  and  beauty  of  coloring 


i;!t 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


which  are  remarkable,  effective  and  sump- 
tuous. In  the  border,  fruits  with  birds 
pecking  at  tlicm,  surround  the  astronomical 
emblems  of  the  months;  squirrels  play 
among  ash  and  medlar  trees ;  a  flight  of 
wild  geese  traverses  the  roeds. 

The  panel  of  Winter  is  an  interior  scene. 
Two  old  people  arc  seated  by  the  fireside. 
A  sheaf  of  chrysanthcnunns  sounds  a  note 
of  color  in  one  corner  of  the  composition. 
A  young  child,  the  symbol  of  renewed  exist- 
ence, offers  to  her  grandmother  a  branch  of 
mistletoe.  The  grandfather,  nearer  the 
fire,  is  somnolent,  as  typical  of  slowly  wast- 
ing life:  thus  contrasting  with  the  child 
whose  buovancy  is  restrained  by  the  sign  of 
silence  made  by  the  grandmother.  Through 
the  windows,  a  snowy  landscape,  delicate 
and  soft,  is  admirably  rendered.  The  signs 
of  the  zodiac  are  here  joined  with  poppies 
symbolizing  the  sleep  of  Nature.  Ivy  and 
pine,  as  tlie  oidy  plants  whose  verdure  re- 
sists the  cold,  are  introduced  with  bats,  in 
suspended  animation,  lianging  to  their 
branches.  Below,  treated  as  a  frieze,  crows 
and  a  large  bird  of  prey  are  disputing  over 
the  nnitilatcd  l)odies  of  small  birds. 

Like  the  jianel  of  Autunni,  that  of  Win- 
ter contains  a  deep  symljolism.  which  is  as 
worthy  to  be  studied  as  the  decorative  ef- 
fects produced  by  the  embroidery.  It  may 
be  said  that  throughout  the  work,  inspira- 
tion and  execution  go  hand  in  hand  and  are 
worthy  the  one  of  the  other.  These  two 
essentials  combine  to  make  a  strong,  impor- 
tant piece,  clearly  conceived  and  splendidly 
executed.  The  two  artists  laboi*ed  togeth- 
er as  bi'ain  and  hand,  in  perfect  understand- 
ing, although  here  the  executant  was  fully 
endowed  with  creative  faculties. 

Simultaneously    with    these    four    panels. 


Mme.  de  Rudder  embroidered  for  a  rich 
amateur  a  screen  of  one  and  one-fifth 
metres  in  height,  by  seventy  centimetres  in 
breadth.  This  work,  fine  in  color  and  execu- 
tion, represents  Penelope  undoing  at  night 
the  well  wrought  by  her  during  the  day. 
The  robe  of  green,  the  tawny  hue  of  the 
hunting  dog,  the  metallic  effects  of  the 
lamp  from  which  issue  three  jets  of  bright 
flame,  unite  in  a  color-scheme  most  pleasing 
and  beautiful,  although  nuich  simpler  than 
that  belonging  to  the  panels  of  the  Seasons. 
Such  are  the  latest  works  of  the  s-reat 
Belgian  needlewoman  who  has  surpassed  all 
her  European  predecessors.  She  has  also, 
in  certain  j)oints,  excelled  the  masters  of  her 
art  in  Japan ;  for  while  the  latter  seem  now 
to  seek  fineness  of  execution,  even  to  the 
injury  of  artistic  sentiment,  Mme.  de  Rud- 
der, although  complete  mistress  of  a  flexi- 
ble, beautiful,  powerful  execution,  exercises 
her  accomplishments  only  to  produce  works 
worthy  of  a  true  artist :  decorative,  versa- 
tile and  subtile.  She  shoidd  be  congratu- 
lated for  the  possession  of  genius.  She 
should  receive  gratitude  for  havina-  revived 
and  carried  forward  to  new  successes  a 
beautiful  and  useful  art. 

[Editor's  Note. — It  is  intci-esting  to  note 
in  the  work  of  Mme.  de  Rudder  a  point  of 
difference  whicli  sharply  distinguishes  the 
European  from  the  American  artist.  That 
is:  her  versatility,  her  evident  desire  to  lay 
aside,  at  certain  moments,  her  graver  stud- 
ies, in  order  to  treat  tlie  lightest  and  most 
childish  themes,  which  she  renders  with  a 
characteristic  spirit  and  grace.  She  pic- 
tures the  heroes  of  village  fairs  and  nursery 
tales  with  the  same  devotion  that  she  evi- 
dences in  her  representations  of  the  Cardinal 


ISO 


IKI 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Virtues  intended  to  decorate  some  splendid 
town-hall  of  her  native  country.  Siie  has 
tiiat  simplicity,  that  joyousness  of  mood, 
u  hicii  keeps  the  men  and  women  of  the  con- 
tinent young,  long  after  tiie mature  Ameri- 
can has  lost  the  power  to  smile  and  to  be 
amused.  Among  the  illustrations  here  pre- 
sented of  allegorical  and  sentimental  sub- 
jects treated  in  large,  two  small  embroidered 
pictures  are  introduced.  They  do  not 
strike  a  false  note  among  their  more  ambi- 
tious companions.  They  serve  tlie  same 
purpose  as  the  bright  bit  of  comedy  which 
illuminates  tlie  sombre  grandeur  of  the 
Shakspeari:ni  (h'.ima.  One  of  these  sub- 
jects, illustrating  the  old  French  nursery 
song:  //  I'tdif  line  hcrffcrc.  has  also  Ijeen 
treated  iiv  that  inimitable  painter  of  cliil- 
dren,  Boutet  de  IVIonvel,  in  a  series  of  the 
drollest  possible  pictures,  winch  tell  the 
story  of  the  shepherdess  and  her  prying 
cat.  But  as  the  versos  whicii  so  annise 
French  children  and  even  their  parents, 
are  not  wldrly  known  in  America,  the  pic- 
ture will  be  better  \uiderstood  if  the  diame- 
ters of  the  little  tale  be  fully  described.  So, 
in  explanation,  a  ])ai'apliase  of  the  song  is 
hei'e  given,  with  the  unavoidable  loss  of  the 
rhyming  syllables  which  form  the  most 
amusing  feature  of  the  French  origin:d  : 

Tlu'i'c  w.-is  a  shejihcrd  maid 
Wlio  fed  her  lamlis  and  sheep 

III  wiiiid  and  ciicil  ijrfeii  glade, 
( tn  hill-sifk%   roiifili   and  steeii. 


She  milked  her  patient  ewes 
And  made  eiirds  rieh  of  taste: 

She  sought  no  drop  to  lose, 
Xo  morsel  small  to  waste. 

'I'he  eat,  with  roguish  air, 

Watched  shepherdess  and  curd; 

Though  seeming  not  to  earc 
For  aught  lie  saw  and  heard. 

The  maid  said:  "If  yiui  steal 

^'our  ]iM\v  to\v:ird  that   fair  dish, 

Yn\ir  hack  my  stick  shall  feci, 
I  'ntil    for  dcatli  you   wish." 

The  (/at   pid   not   his  ]>aw 

The  savory  dish  within: 
He  tried  to  keej)  the  l:iw 

Ih'  thrusting  in  his  chin. 

The  maid  then  angry  grew. 

She  cried:  "Take  that  :ind  that!" 

Till  with  her  stick  she  slew 
Her  naughty  pussy-cat. 

The  other  sm;dl  ])ieture  is  a  scene  from 
the  story  of  Harlequin  (or  Pierrot)  ;ind 
Colombine,  two  of  the  more  pathetic  cliar- 
acters  of  the  village-fair  repertory.  In 
this  INIme.  de  Rudder  has  chosen  to  empha- 
size the  comic  element,  to  give  the  heavy, 
Low  Country  features  and  forms  to  the 
lovers;  so  differing  from  certain  French  il- 
lustrators and  poets  who  ha\e  made  real 
trage<ly  out  of  these  humblest  and  poorest 
of  elements.  She  thus  acknowledges  a  view 
of  life  taken  in  a  ]al)orious  country,  in 
which  melancholy,  born  of  idleness,  is  an 
almost  unknown  evil. 


IH2 


FROM  MERTON  ABBEY  TO  OLD 
DEERFIELD 


JAM-:    PUATT 


WILLIAIM  MORRIS,  poet,  so- 
cialist,   craftsniun,    dreaiiiccl 
man}'  cli-eams ;    also,  he  had 
a    magic    gift    for    making 
dreams  come  true. 

In  the  year  1881,  when  he  was  forty- 
eiglit  years  old,  lie  bouglit  some  disused 
print-works  on  tlie  Httle  river  Wandle  in 
Surrey,  only  seven  miles  from  London,  and 
set  up  there  the  Merton  Abbey  Works. 
Here  formerly  Merton  Abbe}'  had  stood; 
nothing  remained  of  it  then  except  a  bit  of 
crumbling  wall.  But  when  Morris  brought 
his  looms  and  frames  from  London  and  put 
them  into  the  long,  low  buildings  beside  the 
mill  pond,  the  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
the  Middle  Ages  of  the  poet's  imagination, 
settled  down  over  this  quiet  enclosure  among 
the  trees. 

It  was  to  media?val  times  that  IMorris  and 
his  associates  looked  for  inspiration.  Rus- 
kin  had  pointed  out  the  way  to  them,  and 
I'.e  had  not  preached  in  vain ;  here  at  Mer- 
ton Abbey  was  craftsmanship  joined  with 
art  and  workmen  haj)py  in  their  work.  In- 
stead of  tall  chimneys  belching  smoke,  there 
were  poplars  and  willows  hiding  the  build- 
ings from  the  road ;  instead  of  the  rumble 
and  roar  of  pitiless  machines  there  was  tlie 
sociable  whir  of  hand-looms  and  the  song 
of  the  birds;  instead  of  dust  and  unwhole- 
some fumes,  there  were  fresh  air,  sunshine, 
and  the  odor  of  the  flowers  in  the  old-fash- 


ioned garden ;  instead  of  pale  workmen, 
dendenod,  yet  alert,  each  one  chained  to  his 
great  monster  of  a  machine,  there  were 
ruddy-faced  men  and  girls  interested  in 
what  they  were  doing,  and  seeing  the  beau- 
tiful fabrics  grow  under  their  hands  with  a 
sort  of  personal  affection. 

Wlieii  William  Morris  moved  his  manu- 
factures from  London  to  INIcrton  Abbey,  the 
business  was  already  well  established,  and  a 
circular  sent  out  at  the  time  recounted  that 
the  firm  was  prepared  to  furnish  jiainted 
glass  windows,  arras  tapestr}',  carpets,  em- 
broidery, tiles,  furniture,  printed  cotton 
goods,  paper  hangings,  figured  woven 
stuffs,  and  furniture  velvets  and  cloths. 

Burne-Jones,  Morris's  dearest  friend 
from  Oxford  dav\s,  painted  the  cartoons  for 
the  stained  glass  windows ;  but  little  furni- 
ture was  made,  and  that  not  from  Morris's 
designs ;  it  was  to  the  embroidery,  the  car- 
pets, the  tapestry,  the  figured  cloths  and 
the  wall-papers  that  he  gave  most  personal 
attention. 

And  personal  attention  meant  a  great 
deal  to  William  Morris.  "One  secret  of 
the  excellence  of  Morris's  own  designs," 
says  his  biographer,  "was  that  he  never  de- 
signed anything  which  he  did  not  know 
how  to  produce  with  his  own  hands.  He 
had  mastered  the  arts  of  dyeing  and  weav- 
ing before  he  began  to  produce  designs  for 
dyed  and  woven  stuffs  to  be  made  in  his 


IKS 


Deerfickl  wurUcrs  in  "liluc  .-iiul  wliid-"'  embroidery 
1H4. 


OLD    DEKIJ FIELD 


workshops."  Wlien  lie  was  reviving  the 
use  of  tlic  old  vegetable  dyes, — "I  mj-self 
li.ive  (hed  wool  by  the  self -same  process  that 
the  Mosaical  dyers  used,"  he  said.  His 
hands  were  constaiith-  in  the  vats  and  dis- 
colored accordingh'.  "I  am  dyeing,  I  am 
il^eing,  I  am  dyeing,"  shouted  the  burly, 
sea-faring  looking  man  to  a  friend  come  to 
see  him  at  the  factory. 

Color  was  a  sort  of  passion  with  hiin, 
good,  pure,  permanent  color.  The  faded 
blues  and  sage-greens  of  his  earlier  period 
w  ere  bj-  no  means  his  ideals,  they  were  only 
the  best  he  could  get  at  the  time.  "If  you 
want  dirt,"  he  raged  to  a  customer  who  was 
talking  about  subdued  shades,  "3'ou  can 
find  that  in  the  street."  Each  new  color  he 
courted  like  a  lover.  "The  setting  of  the 
l)lue-vat,''  he  wrote  in  his  essay  on  dyeing, 
"is  a  tickUsh  job,  and  requires,  I  should 
say,  more  experience  than  any  other  dyeing 
process." 

"There  was  a  peculiar  beauty  in  his  d^'e- 
ing,"  sa^'s  a  Mrs.  Holida)-,  one  of  the  most 
skilful  of  his  pupils  in  embroidery,  "that 
no  one  else  in  modern  times  has  ever  at- 
tained to.  He  actually  did  create  new  col- 
ors;  then,  his  amethysts  and  golds  and 
greens  were  different  from  anything 
I  have  ever  seen;  he  used  to  get  a  marvel- 
lous play  of  color  into  them.  The  ame- 
thyst had  flushings  of  red;  and  his  gold 
(one  special  sort),  when  spread  out  in  the 
large  rich  hanks,  looked  like  a  sunset  sky. 
When  he  got  an  unusually  fine  piece  of 
color  he  would  send  it  off  to  me  or  keep  it 
for  me;  when  he  ceased  to  dj'e  with  his  own 
hands  I  soon  felt  the  difference.  1'he  col- 
ors themselves  became  perfectly  level  and 
had  a  monotonous,   prosy   look ;    the  very 


lustre  of  the  silk  was  less  beautiful.  When  I 
complained,  he  said :  'Yes,  they  have  grown 
too  clever  at  it — of  course,  it  means  they 
don't  love  color,  or  they  wouldn't  do  it.'  " 

It  was  just  the  same  when  he  became  in- 
terested in  weaving.  He  had  a  loom  set  up 
in  his  bedroom  and  often  began  weaving  as 
early  as  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  In 
makino-  the  designs  for  liis  Ilanmiersmith 
carpets,  he  first  made  a  drawing,  which  he 
carefully  colored  himself.  One  of  his  as- 
sistants then  eidarged  this  design  on  "point 
paper,"  each  point  representing  a  single 
knot  of  the  carpet.  This  point  paper  was 
at  first  laboriously'  made  by  ]\Ir.  Morris 
himself,  but  he  gradually  trained  men  to 
do  it  for  him. 

The  historv  of  his  revival  of  the  almost 
lost  art  of  tapcstr}'  weavii\g  is  another 
romance  of  the  work-shop,  and  not  the  least 
interesting  of  the  sights  to  the  visitor  at 
]\Ierton  Abbey  Works  were  the  looms  bear- 
ing these  pictured  splendors. 

The  pattern-stamping  rooms  showed  a 
different  process.  Here  his  famous 
chintzes, — the  cotton  being  clamped  down 
on  long  tables, — were  stamped  witii  a  hand- 
block  on  which  the  design  was  cut,  and 
velvets  and  other  fabrics  were  similarly 
treated.  Elsewhere,  the  hand-painted  wall 
papers  were  decorated. 

The  productions  of  this  socialist,  this 
friend  of  the  poor,  were  expensive,  and 
their  decorations  were  rich  and  lavish,  yet 
nobody  decried  more  than  he  an  accunmla- 
tion  of  senseless  superfluities.  "Have  noth- 
ing in  your  houses,"  he  said,  "that  you  do 
not  know  to  be  useful  or  believe  to  be  beau- 
tiful". His  taste  in  furniture  was  for  so- 
lidity, straight  lines,  and  great  simjilicity. 

18J 


186 


OLD   DEERI-IELD 


An  old-fashioned  countr}'  kitchen  he  could 
admire;  the  foolish  bric-a-brac  of  an  ordi- 
nary- drawing-room  he  despised. 

Most  of  all  he  insisted,  as  did  others  of 
the  I're-Kaphaelitcs,  that  the  true  root  of 
all  arts  lay  in  the  handicrafts,  and  that  a 
great  art  could  never  grow  up  in  a  countr}' 
whose  workmen  were  mere  machines,  un- 
happy drudges.  Meanwliile,  as  a  step 
toward  making  craftsmen  artists,  as  well 
as  for  the  delight  and  the  jrood  of  the 
doing,  the  artists  turned  craftsmen.  The 
result  was  the  formation  of  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  Exhibition  Society,  which  held  its 
first  exhibition  in  London  in  the  autumn  of 
1S88.  Ever  since  that  time,  there  has  been 
an  increasing  interest  in  England  and  liere 
in  America  in  societies  of  Arts  and  Crafts, 
so-called,  for  the  production  of  houscliold 
decorations  of  good  design  and  of  hand 
workmanship. 

One  old  town  espccialJv-,  Dcerfield  in 
Western  Massachusetts,  has  done  most  ex- 
cellent service  in  this  revival  of  the  old  arts. 
But  Deerfield  was  not  a  frontier  town  in 
tlie  sixteen  hundreds,  and  old  at  the  time  of 
the  Revolution,  for  notliing ;  nor  does  it 
neglect  to  draw  conclusions  from  the  re- 
minders of  this  history  shown  in  its  Me- 
morial Hall.  Deerfield  is  no  blind  follower 
of  Mediaeval  Italians  or  English  Pre-Ilaph- 
aelites.  As  Ruskin  and  Morris  liked  to 
talk  of  that  wonderful  Tliirtecntli  Century, 
when  men  loved  tlicir  work  and  took  pride 
in  it,  so  the  Deerfield  embroiderers  and 
weavers  feel  themselves  true  descendants  of 
the  Colonial  women,  who,  after  their  baking 
and  brewing,  their  scouring  and  scrubbing, 
were  glad  to  sit  down  in  their  great,  clean, 
sunny,  shining  kitchens  and  study  out  some 
new  design  for  a  blue  and  white  coverlet,  or 


sew  together  long  strips  of  carpet  rags  for 
which  the  butternut  dye  was  alread}'  wait- 
ing. 

Pleasure  in  their  work.'  Of  course  they 
took  pleasure  in  their  work,  the  men  and 
women  of  that  old  time.  Those  drj'  Puri- 
tans and  the  Englis'li  Higli  Churchman, 
the  "idle  singer  of  an  empty  day,"  were  at 
one  in  that.  They  gloried  in  the  work  of 
their  hands,  those  New  Englanders.  Wliat 
jollifications  tliey  had  at  tlieir  "raisings," 
wlien  tiie  great  timbers  of  their  noble  Colo- 
nial houses  were  hoisted  into  place.  Husk- 
ing bees  in  the  autumn,  quilting  bees  in  the 
winter,  sugaring-off  in  the  spring:  festivals 
of  labor  blossomed  out  all  along  tlieir  sober- 
colored  3'ear.  And  while  recreation  and 
labor  were  thus  joined,  labor  and  love,  too, 
often  went  side  by  side.  As  somebody  has 
said,  it  was  before  mother  and  daughter 
power  was  superseded  by  water  and  steam 
power.  If  the  son  were  going  away  from 
home  his  motlier  and  sisters,  letting  tlieir 
grief  but  quicken  their  fingers,  spun  the 
thread  and  wove  the  cloth  which  was  to 
make  him  a  coat;  the  little  girl  worked 
samplers  and  pricked  her  poor  little  fingers 
sewing  a  fine  shirt  for  her  father,  of  which 
he  and  she  were  very  proud. 

Outside  of  the  house,  too,  the  country 
town  had  many  industries  in  the  days  be- 
fore the  giant  steam  carried  them  all 
off  to  the  cities.  Deerfield  now  is  the  quiet- 
est of  farming  towns,  but  as  late  as  tlie 
earh'  part  of  the  last  century,  it  was  a  com- 
munity of  varied  activity.  We  hear  of 
brooms,  hats,  saddles,  wagons  and  chaises, 
plows  and  cultivators,  pewter  buttons, 
bricks,  gravestones,  coflSns,  made  here — and 
all  made  by  hand,  mind  you ;  of  cord- 
wainers,     tanners,     curriers,     blacksmiths. 


187 


Dccrtit-ld  basket  makers 


IS8 


OLD    DEERFIELD 


wlieelwriglits,  cahiiiet-niakcrs,  coopers, 
printers,  hook-hinders,  jewelers,  watcli- 
makcrs,  wlio  worked  in  Old  Deerfiold  when 
nohodv  talked  of  art,  hut  every  man  did 
his  work  well. 

Then  Decrfield  was  indeed  a  husy  place. 
The  boats  came  up  the  Connecticut  and 
unloaded  at  Cheapside ;  the  stage  from 
Boston  hrouo-ht  the  latest  traveller  and 
the  latest  news.  The  old  Academy,  when 
founded  in  1799,  attracted  j'oung  life  from 
all  the  country  round,  and  the  older  genera- 
tion lacked  not  dignity  and  wit  to  keep  up 
with  the  liveliest.  So,  with  busy  hands  and 
witii  busy  minds  the}'  lived  and  found  life 
good. 

But  the  century  which  saw  the  great 
industrial  revolution  and  the  development 
of  the  Western  States,  made  a  great  change 
in  Dcerfield,  as  it  did  in  many  another 
country  town.  Cheapside  stands  no  longer 
at  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Connecti- 
cut. Deerfield's  fat  cattle  are  no  longer 
famous  in  the  Boston  markets.  Its  pros- 
perous farmers  no  longer  rank  as  river 
gods.  Its  many  old  industries  have  de- 
parted. 

The  Deerfield  of  to-daj'  is  loved  of  artists 
and  other  clever  folk,  some  of  whom  have 
bought  and  restored  old  houses  standing 
hospitable  under  the  elms.  To  this  present 
day  Deerfield,  verj'  quiet  and  just  a  little 
lonesome  after  the  sunnner  houses  are  closed 
and  the  summer  people  are  gone,  the  new 
artistic  crafts  have  been  a  real  blessing. 

o 

It  is  alwa3's  the  little  spark  from  outside 
which  kindles  the  fire,  the  drifting  pollen 
which  best  fertilizes  the  seed,  and  it  was  two 
adopted  daughters  of  Deerfield,  of  modern 
artistic  training,  but  of  old  New  England 


stock,  who  started  the  Blue  and  White 
Society.  Tiieir  idea  found  a  fertile  soil  in 
which  to  grow. 

Even  before  the  formation  of  the  Blue 
and  White  Society,  indeed,  a  Deerfield  lady 
had  been  for  some  time  making  rugs,  for 
which  strips  of  cloth  were  cut  and  woven 
as  they  were  for  the  old  rag  carpet,  only 
with  greater  care,  and  for  which  the  colors 
were  selected  and  conil)ined  with  artistic 
taste.  But  the  founders  of  the  Blue  and 
White  Society,  which  aimed  to  revive  the 
household  embroideries  of  Colonial  and  later 
days,  immediately  began  to  employ  3oung 
women  of  the  village  to  execute  its  designs. 
'I'lie  doilies,  centre-pieces,  table-covers,  bed- 
spreads, and  so  forth,  were,  for  the  most 
part,  of  white  linen  embroidered  with  blue, 
but  sometimes  greater  variety  was  allowed 
in  the  colors.  With  the  Decrfield  workers, 
too,  as  well  as  with  their  English  predeces- 
sors, the  methods  of  the  old  dyers  are  nmch 
studied,  and  Deerfield  has  furnished  at  least 
two  enthusiasts  in  indigo,  madder  and  fus- 
tic. An  embroiderer  for  the  Blue  and 
White  Society  in  its  earlier  days  remembers 
how,  it  having  been  discovered  that  the 
color  of  the  embroider}-  linen  used  in  a 
large  bedspread  was  not  absolutely'  unfada- 
blc,  every  stitch  so  carefull}-  put  in  was 
laboriously  taken  out.  This  is  the  spirit 
of  the  Deerfield  industries. 

In  the  old  times,  before  the  War,  the  girls 
of  the  ^'alley  used  to  earn  the  money  for  a 
winter's  tuition  at  the  Academy  by  braiding 
palm-leaf  hats.  One  of  them  who  had 
never  lost  her  fondness  for  the  pretty  old 
fanc3--work,  coming  back  to  tiie  town  when 
it  was  in  the  fervor  of  its  new  work — not 
only  were  the  rugs  and  the  blue  and  white 


IH!I 


A   Ueertield  loom 
19P 


OLD    DKERFIELD 


embroider^'  finding  eager  and  appreciative 
purchasers,  but  Deerfield  was  counting  as 
its  own  the  marvellous,  imaginative  metal 
work  done  b_v  the  two  friends  who  were  of 
Boston  and  Chicago  in  the  winter,  and  it 
had  just  been  discovered  by  somebody  that 
a  Magyar  liired  man,  a  blacksmith  who 
lived  across  the  river,  was  more  or  less  a 
genius  in  fashioning  iron  into  beautiful 
forms — coming  then  into  this  vivid  and 
eager  atmosphere,  she,  who  had  been  a  girl 
in  Deerfield  before  the  War,  found  herself 
reviving  the  i)raiding  of  palm-leaf,  only 
instead  of  hats,  the  new  braiders  made 
baskets  and  made  them  well  in  all  sorts  of 
forms.  From  this  it  was  an  easy  step 
to  the  rafBa  baskets,  in  which  some  beauti- 
ful and  original  work  has  been  done. 

Since  then  there  has  been  a  class  in 
Swedish  weaving  in  town.  But  the  Swed- 
ish weaving  has  been  found  to  be  just  the 
old-fashioned  New  England  weaving ;  so 
looms  have  been  taken  down  from  attics, 
and  not  only  are  rugs  woven,  hut  bed- 
spreads, curtains,  and  table-covers,  firm  and 
good,  are  made  on  smaller  looms,  and  col- 
ored, when  they  are  colored,  with  natural 
dyes. 

These  are  the  main  industries  of  Deer- 
field, though  one  lad}-  makes  a  specialty  of 
netting,  another  of  embroidered  card  cases, 
not  unlike  the  embroidered  pocketbooks 
which  they  used  to  make  there  in  old  times, 
and  two  of  the  men  of  the  town,   inspired 


by  the  atmosphere  of  the  place,  liave  done 
some  excellent  cabinet  work. 

But  for  the  most  part,  it  is  the  women 
who  carry  on  the  new  industries,  and 
though,  like  those  Colonial  women  of  old, 
they  are  notable  housewives,  the}'  find  their 
new  avocations  most  engrossing.  Like  the 
Mediaeval  craftsmen  they  have  their  guilds. 
Not  onh'  is  there  the  Blue  and  White  Soci- 
ety, but  the  rug  makers  have  a  society,  and 
the  basket  makers  have  two  associations : 
one  for  the  workers  in  raffia  and  one  for 
those  in  palm-leaf.  Each  of  these  societies 
carries  on  its  dealings  with  the  public  ac- 
cording to  its  own  rules. 

As  to  the  work,  it  is  done  at  home  in  the 
pleasant  old  houses  of  the  elm-shaded  street, 
or  in  the  adjoining  villages.  Ever\'  summer 
an  exhibition  is  held,  but  winter  and  sum- 
mer the  Deerfield  women  seem  alwaj-s  to  be 
behind  their  orders.  From  California  and 
Florida,  from  New  York  and  Seattle,  the 
orders  come  and  keep  coming:  an  evidence 
that,  even  in  practical  America,  there  is  a 
very  real  and  steady  demand  for  good  hand 
work. 

Deerfield's  crafts  seem  small  and  unim- 
portant when  compared  with  Morris's  rich 
productions ;  j'et  Deerfield  is  sending  all 
over  the  country  beautiful  things,  each  one 
breathing  that  indefinable  odor  of  person- 
ality which  makes  Oriental  wares  so  charm- 
ing, and  so  is  helping  to  bring  back  some- 
thing of  lost  poetry  to  the  earth. 


I»l 


Art  for  art's  sake  may  be  very  fine, 
•*-  ^  but  art  for  progress  is  finer  still. 
To  dream  of  castles  in  Spain  is  well; 
to  dream  of  Utopia  is  better  .  .  .  Some 
pure  lovers  of  art  .  .  .  discard  the  for- 
mula "Art  for  Progress,"  the  Beau- 
tiful Useful,  fearind  lest  the  useful 
should  deform  the  beautiful.  They 
tremble  to  see  the  drudge's  hand  at- 
tached to  the  muse's  arm.  They  are 
solicitous  for  the  sublime  if  it  de- 
scends as  far  as  to  humanity.  Ah! 
they  are  in  error.  The  useful,  far  from 
circumscribing  the  sublime,  enlarges 
it  .  .  .  Is  Aurora  less  splendid,  clad 
less  in  purple  and  emerald;  suffers 
she  any  diminution  of  majesty  and  of 
radiant  ^race — because,  foreseeing  an 
insect's  thirst,  she  carefully  secretes 
in  the  flower  the  dewdrop  needed  by 
the  bee?  -victor  hl go 


CHIPS  FROM  THE  CRAFTSMAN 
WORKSHOP 


THE   Craftsinun,   fiiithfiil  to  his  prototype, 
Hans  Sachs,  sat  the  otiier  day  in  his  worli- 
shop,  laboring  hard  at  his  piece  in  hand, 
and,  at  the  same  lime,  reasoning  much  of 
human   life,   when   the   sound  of  enthusiastic   ap- 
plause rose  to  him  from  the  neighboring  square. 

There,  a  concourse  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of 
men  was  listening  to  the  first  citizen  of  the  United 
States.  The  President  was  not  making  the  rostrum 
a  focus  of  party-venom.  He  stood  spiritually,  as 
well  as  literally,  above  the  heads  of  his  hearers. 
He  was  not  playing  upon  their  passions  with  ora- 
torical power,  nor  seeking  to  turn  aside  the  sharp 
edge  of  their  reasoning  faculties  by  the  parry  and 
thrust  of  anecdote.  He  was  not  even  dealing  with 
the  political  questions  of  the  passing  hour.  He 
did  not  speak  of  taxes  and  crops  to  the  farmer,  of 
tariff  to  the  industrial  and  mercantile  elements  of 
his  audience,  of  organization  and  methods  to  the 
party-leaders  among  the  throng.  He  had  indeed  a 
word  for  all  and  each.  But  it  was  a  collective 
message.  He  stood  as  one  qualified  by  professed 
principles,  by  education,  experience  and  right  liv- 
ing, teaching  tliose  surrounding  him  the  elements 
of  nation-building. 


In  listening  to  him  the  citizen,  the  most  pessi- 
mistic concerning  the  future  of  the  country,  could 
take  heart ;  for,  first  of  all,  he  could  not  doubt  the 
sincerity  of  the  man  whose  every  word  rang  clear 
and  true.  Further  than  that,  he  could  not  regard 
the  President,  if  judged  by  these  .same  sincere 
words,  as  a  prejudiced  partisan,  or  even  ;is  a  stu- 
dent of  a  special  school  of  governmental  science, 
warped  by  theories,  and  bound  to  maintain  certain 
economic  and  social  principles.  Finally,  if  the 
pessimist  were  well  informed  in  history,  he  could 
not  do  otherwise  than  recognize  in  the  words  of 
the  simple,  forceful  speaker  the  condensed  wisdom 
of  all  epoclis  and  all  schools  of  political  thought, 
which  had  passed  through  the  clear  medium  of  a 
vigorous  intellect.     Here  appeared  no  trace  of  the 


demagogue,  fanatic,  pedant.  Instead,  every  con- 
ce])t  was  stamped  with  the  sterling  mark  of  truth. 
But  it  was  truth  of  a  practical  nature,  with  no 
visionary  quality.  An  Ideal  Republic  was  certainly 
outlined  by  the  President's  words,  but  it  was  a 
modern  state,  thoroughly  possible  of  construction, 
and  if  once  built  u]i,  capable  of  long  existence  by 
reason  of  its  vigor  and  purity. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  there  were  scoffers 
in  the  throng:  first,  members  of  different  social 
classes,  united  for  tlie  moment  by  party-spirit. 
Then,  more  to  be  condemned  than  the  others,  be- 
cause tliey  were  not  l)liiided  by  prejudice,  came 
those  whom  a  little  learning  had  made  dangerous; 
men  of  minds  immature  either  by  reason  of  youth, 
or  of  arrested  development;  for  the  most  part, 
those  for  whom  the  college  was  not  yet  seen  in  the 
proper  perspective;  those  who  felt  themselves  far 
above  the  "mechanical"  element  of  the  concourse, 
and  too  wise  to  be  taught  by  that  sinqjlicity  of 
statement  which  they  cliose  to  call  platitude.  The 
representatives  of  this  class  commented:  "The 
President  says  nothing  new.  He  speaks  to  us  as 
if  we  were  children.  His  ideas  can  be  summed  up 
in  wliat  our  nurses  told  us  when  we  were  yet  in 
kilts:  'Be  good,  and  you  will  be  happy.'  As  adult 
thinkers  we  demand  something  stronger.  We  do 
not  want  a  lurid  of  mental  Mellin's  Food." 

The  injustice  of  such  criticism  can  best  be  shown 
by  direct  quotation  from  the  President's  ojjinions, 
as  he  gave  them  that  day,  upon  men  and  women, 
capitalists  and  laborers,  legislation  and  govern- 
ment. Aphoristic  sentences,  worthy  to  be  treas- 
ured in  the  minds  of  Americans,  irrespective  of 
class  or  condition,  occurred  at  short  intervals, 
throughout  the  discourse,  and  among  these  The 
Craftsman  chose  such  as  seemed  most  in  accord- 
aiu-e  with  his  individual  views  of  life  and  society. 
.As  a  rei)resentative  of  the  people,  as  one  working 
hard  for  his  maintenance,  yet  having  a  deep  sense 
of  the  dignity  of  labor,  he  delighted  in  the  follow- 
in)^  thought  express<d  in  the  hunidiest  of  language: 


lil.S 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


"Our  average  fellow-citizen  is  a  sane  and  healthy 
man,  who  believes  in  decency  and  has  a  wholesome 
mind." 

This    sentence,    strong    in    itself,    redoubled    its 
meaning  on  the  lips  of  the  President,  in  his  cliar- 
acter  of  a  former  city  official  who  abolished  cer- 
tain  of  the  worst   evils   of  metropolitan   life.     It 
showed  him  as  belonging  to  that   very  small  and 
infinitely     valuable     class,     typified     in     Chaucer's 
"Poure    Parsoun,"    whom    the    Father   of    English 
glorified,  because:  "first  he  wrought  and  afterward 
he   taught."     It    was   directly   in   accord   with   the 
ideal  which  he  outlined  when  he  characterized  Jacob 
Riis  as  "the  most  useful  citizen  of  New  York;" 
afterward    receiving    from    a    Harvard    professor, 
who    failed    to    apprehend    the    manliness    of    the 
Roosevelt  ideal,  the  criticism  that  this  opinion  Wiis 
"a  generous  exaggeration."    But  is  not  such  warmth 
of  expression  more  praiseworthy  than  the  indiffer- 
ence of  the  aristocrat?     And  what  citizen-type,  if 
judged  by  works  alone,  ought  we  to  place  before 
the  journalist  Riis,  who  was  the  means  of  provid- 
ing  a   pure   water-supply    for   the   metropolis   of 
America    and    of   securing   parks    for   its    vicious 
quarters;    who    obtained    by    legislation    light    for 
dark    tenements    and    thus    destroyed   the   prolific 
breeding-places  of  vice  and  filth;"  who  drove  the 
bakeries  with  their  fatal  fires  from  tenement  base- 
ments;   who   worked    for    the    abolition    of    child- 
labor,  and,  when  a  law  tending  toward   this   end 
was  enacted,  compelled  its  enforcement?     In  view 
of   these   actions,   was   the   estimate   of   President 
Roosevelt   "a   generous   exaggeration,"   and   is   not 
the  man  who  accomplished  such  great  good,  worthy 
to  be  honored,  as  a  defender  and  preserver  of  the 
country  and  Constitution,  equally  with  those  types 
of  different  valor  whose  deeds  are  recorded  in  ex- 
quisite Latin  on   the   frieze  of  the   Memorial   Hall 
at  Harvard? 

The  simple,  sane  judgment  of  the  President  re- 
garding the  beneficent  citizen  was  matched  by  his 
description  of  the  types  noxious  to  the  State."  Of 
these  he  said: 

"The  unscrupulous  rich  man  who  seeks  to  exploit 
and  oppress  those  who  are  less  well  off,  is  in  spirit 
not  opposed  to,  but  identical  with,  the  unscrupu- 
lous poor  man  who  desires  to  plunder  and  oppress 
those  who  are  better  off." 

194 


In  this  statement.  The  Craftsman,  content  with 
his  own  condition  and  station,  found  much  to  ad- 
mire. First  of  all,  here  was  a  brief,  clear  expla- 
nation of  the  destructive  nature  of  two  opposing 
forces:  oppression  and  revolution.  Because  so 
simple  and  brief,  it  was  suited  to  the  audience  be- 
fore whom  it  was  given.  It  condensed  into  two 
score  words  a  whole  thesis  against  Nihilism  or  a 
volume  upon  the  French  Revolution.  Far  from 
being  condemned  for  its  simplicity  of  thought,  for 
its  homeliness  of  expression,  it  was  to  be  honored 
because  of  these  very  qualities.  For  the  simple 
things  are  the  great  things.  They  either  come 
into  l)eing  at  the  white  heat  of  genius,  and,  so,  are 
uiufied  and  indivisible;  or  they  are  slowly  and  care- 
fully perfected,  until  everything  foreign  is  elimi- 
nated and  thought  and  expression,  or  thought  and 
execution,— if  the  creation  be  a  visible  object,— are 
structurally  and  indissolubly  united. 

From  these  flawless  d&scriptions  of  the  nation- 
Iniilder  and  the  nation-destroyers  the  President 
passed  on  to  the  consideration  of  the  family  as  the 
foundation  of  the  State.  At  this  point  his  tre;it- 
ment  of  the  truth  he  wished  to  convey  was  as  pop- 
ular as  in  the  previous  instances,  but  it  was  equally 
enlightened  and  thoughtfid.      His  words  were  these: 

"Tlie  woman  who  has  borne,  and  «ho  has  reared 
as  they  should  be  reared,  a  family  of  children, 
has,  in  the  most  emphatic  manner,  deserved  well 
of  the  republic.  Among  the  benefactors  of  the 
land  her  place  must  be  with  those  who  have  done 
the  best  and  the  hardest  work,  whether  as  law- 
givers or  as  soldiers,  whether  in  public  or  in  pri- 
vate life." 

This  thought  also  contains  a  fund  of  sound 
economic  principles.  It  is  primitive  truth  borne  out 
by  the  experience  of  the  strongest  and  most  highly 
civilized  nations.  As  the  critics  of  the  President 
might  urge,  the  statement  contains  nothing  new, 
but  as  the  conditions  with  which  it  deals  will  always 
affect  society,  so  it  will  always  have  meaning  and 
force.  Beside,  the  words  in  which  it  is  clothed 
have  an  attractiveness  resulting  from  simplicity 
such  as  is  found  in  the  classics.  For  example,  the 
expression:  "the  woman  who  has  deserved  well  of 
the  Republic,"  suggests  the  strong  Roman  matron 
whose  virtues  gleam  with  the  white  light  of  purity 
amid  the  rough  iron  and  bronze  of  the  citizen  and 
warrior-character. 


CHIPS 


Again,  according  to  the  system  of  contrast 
wliich  seemed  to  underlie  tlie  President's  discourse, 
tlie  useless  and  noxious  elements  of  the  State  were 
paralleled  with  the  constructive  forces.  The  para- 
site the  speaker  denounced  in  these  emphatic  terms: 

"There  is  no  room  in  our  healthy  American  life 
for  the  mere  idler,  for  the  man  or  the  woman 
whose  object  it  is,  throughout  life,  to  shirk  the 
duties  which  life  ought  to  bring." 

In  this  sentence,  as  perhaps  in  no  other  of  the 
wliole  argument,  was  displayed  the  heroic  nature 
of  the  man  who  stood  pleading  for  the  highest 
good  and  development  of  his  jieople.  He  spoke  out 
of  the  fullness  of  personal  observation.  As  the 
representative  of  the  leisuristic  class,  he  offered  an 
example  of  energ)-,  industry,  self-sacrifice  and  en- 
thusiasm, brilliant  and  rarely  equalled:  a  type  to 
be  specially  honored  at  a  time  when  the  tendency 
of  the  rich  and  cidtured  of  our  cities  is  to  forsake 
America  witli  its  democratic  institutions  for  the 
courts  and  the  parasitic  society  of  European  cap- 
itals. 

Joined  with  this  denunciation  of  the  idler  there 
occurred  another  proof  of  the  President's  austerity 
of  thought,  refreshing  and  invigorating  like  a 
breath  of  wind  from  the  sea.  It  was  an  utterance 
worthy  of  a  modern  Saint  Francis;  recognizing  and 
honoring  the  first  essential  of  human  happiness, 
health  and  life,  and  so  expressed  that  all  might 
understand  and  take  it  to  their  hearts.     It  ran: 

"No  man  needs  sympathy  because  he  has  to  work; 
because  he  has  a  burden  to  carry.  Far  and  away 
the  best  prize  that  life  offers  is  the  chance  to  work 
hard  at  work  worth  doing." 

As  these  sentenoes  fell  upon  his  ear,  The  Crafts- 
man rejoiced  at  the  certainty  that  a  new  name  had 
been  added  to  the  list  of  great  presidents;  that  a 
worthy  successor  had  arisen  to  the  martyr  who  had 
malice  toward  none  and  charity  for  all. 

THE  FLOOD  OF  FICTION 

THE  annual  flood  of  fiction  has  swept  over 
the  country.     It  began  in  the  springtime 
with  the  patter  of  light  leaves  sent  out  by 
publishers  well  known  and   unknown.     It 
grew  more  serious  when  the  summer  came,  bring- 


ing the  long  vacation  days.  It  increased  in  volume 
until  midsummer,  when  literary  landmarks  were 
obliterated,  and  "all  things  became  as  one  deep 
sea" — of  romance. 

.Vt  the  present  moment,  we  can  record  the  sub- 
sidence of  the  waters.  Solid  literature  lifts  its 
head  from  tlie  deluge,  like  another  Mt.  Ararat, 
and  the  first  signs  of  fertility  appear.  The  flood 
of  fiction  numbers  its  victims  by  thousands,  and 
few  there  are  who  have  escaped  its  crushing  power; 
who  have  been  prudent  and  foresighted  enough  to 
l)rcserve  the  literary  species  which  are  necessary 
to  the  intellectual  life  and  pleasure  of  the  world, 
as  Xoah  of  Holy  Writ  once  preserved  the  clean 
and  the  unclean  types  of  animal  existence. 

The  comparison  between  the  midsummer  flood 
of  fiction  and  the  Biblical  deluge  is  no  work  of  the 
idle  imagination.  It  is  justifiable  and  sane,  by 
reason  of  the  destroying  power  of  each  of  the 
agents  compared.  Fiction,  as  it  is  now  produced 
in  enormous  quantities  and  at  rapid  rates,  is  a  real 
peril  to  the  country;  too  subtle  to  be  met  by  legis- 
lation, too  well  disguised  to  cause  suspicion,  and 
too  attractive  to  be  resisted  by  those  whom  it 
makes  mad  and  destroys. 

The  last  word  "destroys"  is  not  too  strong  a 
term.  There  is  the  fiction  that  teaches,  upUfts, 
inspires.  There  is  also  the  fiction  that  causes 
mental  degeneracy  and  disease.  In  the  latter  class 
we  are  not  now  including  the  so-called  "immoral" 
romances,  which  are  often  decried  flippantly  by 
persons  incapable  of  gaining  tlic  point  of  view  of 
a  humanitarian  author  who  would  right  some  cry- 
ing social  wrong.  We  wish  to  consider  merely 
those  minor  works  of  fiction,  those  "short  stories," 
which  are  circulated  by  book  clubs  in  the  homes  of 
the  million,  since  they  are  regarded  as  fitted  for 
"family  reading."  Mother  and  daughter  indulge 
in  them  often  to  excess,  while  the  college  boy  and 
even  the  father  are  not  insensible  to  their  allure- 
ments. This  is  the  fiction  which  is  a  threatening 
evil;  threatening  to  the  producer,  and  doubly  so 
to  the  consumer.  The  evil  to  the  producer  may 
be  indicated  by  reference  to  a  species  of  novels 
which  has  lately  "increased  and  multiplied" — not 
to  say  swarmed.  All  these  books  have  a  common 
ancestor  in  Anthony  Hope's  "Prisoner  of  Zcnda," 
which  was  vitalized,  full  of  invention  and  touched 
with  a  genius  which  atoned   for  extravagance  and 


las 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Inaccuracy.  The  imitations  of  this  tale  of  adven- 
ture, according  to  an  invariable  law  noted  by 
critics  of  art  and  literature,  exaggerated  the  de- 
fects of  their  model,  while  they,  in  no  case,  equaled 
the  smallest  of  its  merits.  So,  there  ensued  a 
succession  of  impossible  tales  like  "Graustark," 
"Castle  Craneycrow,"  and  their  relatives:  notable 
only  for  their  weak,  servilely  imitated  plot  and 
situations,  for  their  personages  without  personality 
and  for  their  stilted  dialogue.  In  modeling  them- 
selves upon  Anthony  Hope,  in  making  these  copies 
of  his  clever  romance,  the  imitators  were  dishonest 
to  themselves;  they  killed  whatever  originality  lay 
within  them;  they  started  upon  a  course  from 
which,  once  they  had  entered  it,  they  could  not 
retire.  The  imitations  continue,  and  the  imitators, 
if  judged  by  the  fact  of  their  admission  to  certain 
popular  magazines,  are  reaping  rich  rewards  in 
good  coin  of  the  commonwealth. 

Originality    is    the    life-force    of    every    created 
tiling.     Were   we   to   meet   in   our   daily   walk   and 
conversation,     numerous     individuals     with     faces, 
voices,   manners   and   thoughts   closely    resem'iliug 
one   another,   how   hateful   would   society   become! 
Originality  is  the  vital  principle  of  the  handicraft 
movement   of  to-day   which   decries — and  justly — 
the  machine  and  the  copy;  prizing  the  weak  and 
lambent  flame  of  life  in  the  crudest  original  form 
of  art  above  the  most  perfect  and  deceptive  copy  of 
a  masterpiece.     Originality  in  fictional  literature  is 
the  only  promise  of  life.     It  is  the  strength  which 
resists  what   might   be   called  the   "children's   dis- 
eases" of  novelists,  carrying  a  certain  percentage 
of   individuals   onward   to   a   period   of   maturity, 
while,  all  around,  the  "slaughter  of  the  innocents," 
that  is,  of  the  weaklings,  proceeds  without  stay  or 
truce.     For  the  producer  of  fiction  originality  is, 
therefore,  nothing  lower  than  the  price  of  life,  and 
no  stretch  of  the  imagination  is  required  to  foretell 
the  end  of  four-score  from  every  hundred  of  those 
whose  names  now  compose  the  list  of  contriljutors 
to  the  American  magazines  of  light  literature. 

For  the  consumer  the  perils  of  the  deluge  of 
fiction  are  even  greater  than  for  the  producer. 
And  these  dangers  are  further  increased,  if  the 
consumer  be  young  and  modestly  conditioned. 
The  midsummer  issues  of  the  magazines, — and  this 
is  true  of  the  leaders  as  well  as  those  of  lesser 
importance, — were  filled  with  novelettes  provocative 
of  false  views  of  life.  The  sight  of  a  young 
woman  stretched  at  ease  in  a  steamer  or  veranda 


chair,  partaking  with  equal  freedom  of  the  con- 
tents of  a  thick  brochure  held  in  her  hand,  and 
of  those  of  a  heavy  box  of  bonbons  lying  in  her  lap, 
was  a  sight  to  be  greatly  regretted.  This  consumer 
of  sweets  lay  in  double  peril,  and  the  dangers  in- 
curred by  her  mental  powers  of  digestion  and 
assimilation  were  more  to  be  feared  than  the  super- 
natural dreams  and  visions  which  might  result 
from  indulgence  in  a  collection  of  dainties  rival- 
ling those  enumerated  by  Keats  in  his  Eve  of 
St.  Agnes. 

It  is  easy  to  attack  the  summer-born  fiction  of 
the  current  year.  It  is  vulnerable  at  the  vital 
point,  even  though  in  many  cases  it  stands  "under 
the  shadow  of  mighty  names."  And  since  it  is  more 
generous  to  aim  at  the  strong  than  at  the  defence- 
less, let  us  select  a  work  signed  by  one  of  these 
names  of  reputation,  and  subject  it  to  censure 
which  shall  be  both  sincere  and  friendly. 

Let  us  take  for  our  purpose  the  serial  novel,  by 
Henry  Harland,  now  in  course  of  publication  in 
McClure's  Magazine,  under  the  name  of  "Jly 
Friend  Prospero."  First  of  all,  it  must  be  freely 
admitted  that  the  work  is  not  without  attractions. 
The  scene,  laid  in  Northern  Italy,  is  described 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  lover  of  that  fair  region, 
— of  a  lover  who  does  not  want  for  words.  Fur- 
thermore, the  descriptions  of  nature  bear  con- 
vincing evidence  of  having  been  written,  or  at 
least  outlined,  when  the  author  stood  under  the 
spell  of  beauty.  This  element  of  the  work  it 
would  be  unjust  to  criticise,  except  possibly  for 
an  over-exuberance  of  style,  which,  here  permissi- 
ble, becomes  a  positive  and  aggressive  defect,  when 
it  occurs  in  the  dialogue  or  the  descriptions  of  the 
characters  entering  into  the  action  of  the  story. 

The  agreeable,  even  beautiful  placing  of  the 
action  is  matched  by  certain  of  the  character  ele- 
ments. Th.erefore,  the  great  fault  of  the  work  lies 
in  the  misuse  of  the  excellent  material  chosen. 
Misuse  is  certainly  not  too  strong  a  term,  for  the 
last  trace  of  the  supposable  is  absent  from  details 
of  the  treatment  which  might  have  been  made 
effective  and  realistic.  Among  such  details  may 
be  particularly  instanced  the  conversations  between 
the  hero  and  little  Annunziata,  who  is  the  most 
thoroughly  studied  character  of  the  work, — the 
only  one  indeed  who  lends  it  a  warm  human  inter- 
est;    the    others    being    Lady    Blanchemain,    the 


196 


c  iiirs 


I'rinccss  of  Zctt-Xeumiiister,  the  Imiulsoiuc  young 
lieir-presumptive  to  an  Knglish  title  held  in  abey- 
ance, and  an  Italian  parish  priest:  all  personages 
who,  for  tlie  last  century  and  under  thin  disguises, 
have  filled  tlieir  parts  in  novels  with  tlie  versatility 
and  the  indilTcrence  of  the  actors  of  a  stock  coni- 
l)any.  These  people  are  types  rather  tlian  individ- 
iluals,  and  a  better  eonii>arison  tlian  tlic  one  just 
made  between  them  and  tlie  actors  of  a  stock  com- 
pany, might  be  instituted  by  likening  tliem  to  tlie 
lay-iigures  of  a  studio:  those  representations  of 
human  beings,  which  by  a  change  of  dress,  and  a 
new  twist  of  the  arms  and  legs,  are  transformed, 
at  the  will  of  the  artist,  from  person  to  person, 
and  carried  from  situation  to  situation. 

Sharply  differing  from  generalities  such  as  these, 
the  little  Annunziata  stands  in  Mr.  Harland's 
novel  like  a  real  child  among  marionettes.  She 
is  an  exijuisite  little  creature,  studied  from  the  life, 
and  ilaliaiiisiima.  She  could  not  be  improved  as 
an  example  of  that  strange  mingling  of  the  Pagan 
and  the  Christian,  which  is  found  in  every  peasant 
of  lier  country.  She  is  a  being  of  fire  and  flame, 
responsive  to  every  passing  influence.  She  is  very 
near  to  the  angels,  and  wise  in  a  kind  of  philoso- 
phy of  life  peculiar  to  the  Latin  races.  She  stands 
on  the  verge  of  insanity,  as  Itahans  of  all  ages  and 
conditions  are  wont  to  do;  since  in  their  natures 
emotion  crowds  reason  into  such  narrow  space  that 
it  rebels  at  the  compression. 

Having  thus  created  a  character  so  true,  so  per- 
fect that  the  reader  returns  again  and  again  to  the 
passages  of  the  novel  which  she  illuminates  by  the 
record  of  her  actions  and  words,  Jlr.  Harland 
cruelly  mars  his  artistic  effect  by  imagining  con- 
versations between  Annunziata  and  the  hero  which 
pass  the  limits  of  the  ridiculous.  In  these  dia- 
logues the  little  girl  maintains  the  probable  and 
the  fitting  element,  while  the  hero  represents  the 
fantastic  and  the  impossible.  The  coinmnnication 
between  the  two  is  supposedly  carried  on  through 
the  medium  of  the  Italian  language;  therefore, 
had  the  author  been  alive  and  sensitive  to  artistic 
effect,  he  would  have  given  no  prominence  to  the 
words,  or  to  the  English  forms  of  expression.  In- 
stead, he  has  involved  the  thought,  tortured  the 
grammatical  construction,  and  introduced  learned 
figures  and  phrases,  until  there  are  but  two  sup- 
positions to  make  regarding  the  apparently  simple 
peasant-child    Annunziata:     either    that    she    is    a 


Professor  Laiiciaiii  in  disguise,  or  that  "the  gift 
of  tongues"  descends  at  moments  miraculously 
upon  her.  The  height  of  this  artistic  falsity  lies 
in  the  fact  that  Annunziata  pursues  the  expression 
of  her  thoughts  as  if  she  were  alone;  that  the 
simplicity  of  speech  fitted  to  her  age  and  her 
nationality,  when  contrasted  with  the  outpourings 
of  I'rospero's  lover-spirit,  give  the  effect  of  a 
lark  mounting  the  sky  in  singing,  while  a  Hamlet, 
standing  solitary  in  the  fields  might  deliver  liis 
famous  monologue  upon  human  existence.  When 
Annunziata  simply  says  that  something  is  mys- 
terious, her  friend  Prospero  replies  that  it  is 
"cryptic,  enigmatic,  esoteric  to  the  last  degree." 
When  she  speaks  of  holy  apparitions  with  the  sim- 
ple credulity  of  the  peasant,  he  discourses  learn- 
edly upon  "the  terminology  of  ghost-lore."  The 
hero  leaves  no  fragment  of  possibility  to  the  sit- 
uation, and  so  reduces  himself  to  a  phantom,  while 
he  reveals  in  his  creator,  .Mr.  Harland,  a  serious 
lack  of  artistic  perception. 

Is  it  too  much  to  ask  of  authors  that  we  may 
have  "a  new  art"  in  fiction,  as  we  have  in  other 
provinces  of  aesthetics:  an  art,  structural,  simple 
and  characterized  by  common  .sense? 

HANDICHAl'l'   IN     Till:  SCHOOLS 

BllLlK\'lN(j  in  the  high  educational  value 
of  correlated  brain  and  hand  work,  and 
feeling  that  the  ideals  of  freedom  and 
simplicity  that  characterize  the  new  art 
must  be  fostered  among  our  students  if  America 
would  have  an  art  of  her  own.  The  Craftsman  will 
open,  in  the  December  issue,  a  department  for  the 
schools. 

It  is  hoped  by  means  of  tliis  department  to  grow 
in  closer  touch  with  the  elementary,  secondary  and 
technical  schools  of  our  land.  The  aims  will  be: 
to  gi\e  our  readers  a  general  survey  of  the  progress 
of  the  new  art  in  the  schools  of  America  and  the 
Old  World;  to  co-operate  with  teachers  and  stu- 
dents to  the  end  of  encouraging  original  and  varied 
work  in  design  and  advancing  ideals  for  handi- 
craft; to  present  drawings  of  work  done  in  the 
schools;  to  publi.sh  Craftsman  designs  adapted  to 
afforti  suggestions  for  students;  and  to  demonstrate 
to  our  readers  that  art  training  and  handicraft 
have  a  direct  disciplinary  value  for  the  young. 

In  this  endeavor  we  hope  to  have  the  support  of 
experienced  directors  and  teachers  of  art. 


I9T 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Frequent  requests  are  received  from  public  and 
normal  school  instructors  for  Craftsman  designs 
suitable  for  use  in  the  schools.  This  demand  we 
hope  to  supply,  in  connection  wilh  the  projected 
department. 

Simple  designs  for  various  pieces  of  household 
furniture  will  be  presented,  adapted  for  reproduc- 
tion by  students,  and  for  suggestion  in  original 
work.  These  designs,  made  by  our  artists  with 
special  reference  to  the  schools,  are  all  working 
drawings,  of  things  actually  made.  They  are, 
therefore,  in  every  instance,  practical  for  repro- 
duction. They  exemplify  the  Craftsman  ideal  of 
simple  structural  beauty  rather  than  ornateness. 
We  are  trying  to  make  in  our  Shops  things  that 
are  adequate— not  things  that  are  startling.  We 
are  glad  to  give  teachers  and  students  the  results  of 
our  experiments  in  the  working  out  of  these  ideals. 

Another  feature  of  the  department  will  be  a 
series  of  Prize  Competitions  in  design.  The  aim  of 
this  endeavor  is  to  aiford  an  incentive  to  original 
work  among  students.  Art  is  an  expression  of 
individuality.  It  is  as  much  an  individual  thing 
as  is  the  exhalation  of  the  breath,  the  tone  of  a 
voice,  the  fragrance  of  a  flower.  Each  student 
must  be  encouraged  to  express  himself  in  his  art — 
in  all  work  with  his  hands.  Art  that  is  merely  imi- 
tative is  worse  than  useless,  for  it  defeats  the  end 
of  art  training,  (which  is  the  end  of  all  education), 
—that  of  making  each  student  a  creative  workman. 

The  Craftsman  invites  all  students  to  submit 
original  designs  in  accordance  with  the  rules  of 
the  Competition,  which  may  be  found  at  the  close 
of  this  issue.  The  judges  of  the  competition  will 
look  for  a  degree  of  the  freedom,  spontaneity  and 
originality  of  the  new  art,  in  the  designs  submitted. 
Efforts  wluch  are  deemed  especially  worthy  will 
receive  honorable  mention. 

In  this  special  appeal  to  students.  The  Crafts- 
man invites  the  co-operation  of  all  schools  whose 
endeavor  tends  toward  the  development  of  the  cre- 
ative artist  that  is  in  every  boy  or  girl. 


A  CRAFTSMAN  HOMEBUILDERS' 
CLUB 

THE  CRAFTSMAN  is  In  daily   receipt  of 
letters  bearing  requests  from  readers  for 
suggestions    in    the    building,    decorating 
and   furnishing  of  a  "Craftsman  House." 
These  demands  having  become  too  pressing  to  ad- 


mit of  a  personal  reply  in  every  instance,  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  meet  them  through  the  columns 
of  the  magazine. 

It  is  purposed  to  publish  every  month,  beginning 
with  the  January  issue,  designs  of  detached  resi- 
dences, the  cost  of  which  shall  range  from  two 
thousand  to  fifteen  thousand  dollars.  The  order  in 
which  these  houses  will  be  presented  will  depend 
upon  the  demands  of  our  correspondents. 

The  Craftsman  invites  all  readers  who  are  in- 
terested in  housebuilding  and  decoration  to  con- 
sider themselves  members  of  a  Craftsman  Home- 
BUiLDEBs'  Club,  the  condition  imposed  being  that 
each  shall  send  one  new  subscription  to  the  maga- 
zine at  the  usual  terms  ($3.00).  Each  member  is 
privileged  to  correspond  with  The  Craftsman  in 
regard  to  the  designs  to  be  presented,  as  the  aim 
of  this  endeavor  is  to  offer  practical  solutions  to 
actual   personal   problems. 

Every  correspondent  may  state  personal  prefer- 
ences concerning  the  design  in  which  he  is  inter- 
ested: the  cost  of  the  house,  the  materials  desired, 
the  locality,  peculiar  climatic  conditions,  and  what- 
ever else  is  necessary  to  be  considered  in  the  work- 
ing out  of  his  particular  project.  So  far  as  prac- 
ticable, the  houses  planned  will  be  based  upon  the 
preferences  suggested  in  the  letters. 

Any  New  Subscriber,  according  to  the  usual 
subscription  terms  ($3.00),  who  desires  to  cooper- 
ate with  the  Homebuilders'  Club,  and  who  would 
like  more  specific  guidance  in  making  a  Craftsman 
House,  will  be  supplied,  on  request,  with  blue- 
prints embodying  complete  plans  and  specifications 
of  any  one  of  the  twelve  houses  pulilished  during 
the  year  1904. 

The  plans  will  comprehend  simple  landscape 
gardening,  in  harmony  with  the  architectural 
scheme;  also  complete  motifs  for  decoration,  with 
colored  perspective  of  interior;  to  which  special 
consideration  has  been  given  in  the  Craftsman 
shops. 

This  offer  gives  the  homebuilder  an  opportunity 
to  command  our  best  thought  and  our  varied  expe- 
rience, in  cooperation  with  his  personal  preference. 
It  makes  it  possible  for  him  to  build,  at  a  desired 
cost,  a  Craftsnuin  House,  in  which  he  may  express 
his  own   individuality. 

Every  reader  subscribing  with  this  end  in  view 
should  state  in  his  application  that  he  desires  to 
be  enrolled  on  the  Homebuilders'  list.  His  re- 
quest for  plans  and  specifications  will  be  received 
any  time  during  the  year  of  1904,  as  the  plans  are 


19« 


CHIPS 


published  from  month  to  rnoiitli,  and  will  l)e  given 
prompt   attention. 

An  early  correspondence  is  invited,  since  tlie 
preparation  of  the  designs  involves  much  thought 
and  attention,  and  at  least  one  month's  time  is 
required  for  the  production  of  one  of  "The  Crafts- 
man" Houses. 

Oril  CORRESPONDENCE 

TO  meet  tlie  specific  needs  of  the  makers  of 
liomes,  Tlie  Craftsman  purposes  opening 
its  columns  to  a  correspondence  with  read- 
ers. 
We  invite  all  who  are  interested  in  question.-; 
coming  within  our  scope,  to  confer  with  us  con- 
cerning problems  wliich  we  are  trying,  in  our  own 
way,  to  solve.  If  Tlie  Craftsman  point  of  view 
throws  light  upon  some  of  the  difficulties  confront- 
ing you  in  making  your  home,  the  service  will  be 
general  rather  than  personal;  for  a  discussion  of 
your  needs  will  carry  suggestion  to  other  home- 
builders.  In  return.  The  Craftsman  will  have  the 
advantage  of  learning  liow  it  may  better  serve  all 
classes  of  its  readers. 

Attention  will  be  given  by  our  artists  and  de- 
signers to  any  question  in  regard  to  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  movement — its  spirit,  aims  and  practical 
workings;  and  to  individual  problems  in  house- 
building and  decoration.  Suggestions  will  be  made, 
upon  request,  concerning  furniture,  wall-coverings, 
hangings  or  color  schemes  for  a  particular  liome 
or  room  in  a  home. 

All  letters  should  be  concise  and  pointed.  If 
you  want  suggestions  for  an  interior,  your  letter 
must  convey  a  clear  and  definite  impression  of  the 
room  in  question:  its  situation,  size,  proportions, 
lighting  and  any  other  conditions  to  be  taken  into 
consideration  in  furnishing  and  decoration.  Pho- 
tographs might  in  some  cases  be  helpful  in  mak- 
ing the  situation  plain. 

Any  question  that  comes  within  the  province  of 
The  Craftsman  will  be  answered  as  promptly  and 
explicitly  as  the  circumstances  of  the  case  will 
allow.  If  your  question  does  not  suggest  a  plan 
of  some  general  interest,  or  if  the  department  be- 
comes unduly  crowded,  you  will  receive  a  reply  by 
personal  letter,  providing  you  are  a  regular  sub- 
scriber (and  have  enclosed  sufficient  postage). 

Tliis  invitation  is  extended  in  response  to  a  grow- 
ing demand.  The  Craftsman  is  daily  receiving  let- 
ters from  readers  who  are  striving  to  simplify  their 


lives  by  ridding  themselves  of  the  meaningless  in 
their  surroundings.  It  is  gratifying,  in  an  age  of 
accumulation  and  di.splay,  to  receive  assurance  that 
here  and  there  in  our  land  men  and  women  are 
trying  to  make  homes  that  are  a  simple  expression 
of  their  individuality. 

The  ideal  of  a  Craftsman  house,  applied  to  every 
part,  is  fitness  for  service.  A  Craftsman  chair  is 
made  for  firm  support  and  for  comfort;  a  table, 
to  afford  support  and  breadth  of  surface.  The 
beauty  of  the  chair  and  the  table  is  structural 
rather  than  superficial.  If  each  is  made  with  a 
view  to  perfect  adaptability  to  the  end  wliich  it  is 
intended  to  serve,  it  is  in  good  taste. 

Necessity  is  the  Craftsman  criterion  of  beauty. 
.Vnything  which  would  obtrude  itself  on  the  notice 
because  not  necessary  to  a  definite  end,  is 
avoided. 

It  may  be  well  to  call  attention  here  to  the  fact 
that  the  question  of  good  art  in  tlie  home  is  not 
one  of  expense.  A  bumble  home  may  be  ineiLSured 
by  the  Craftsman  standard;  it  may  reflect  the 
charm  of  sincerity  which  is  found  more  often  in 
jirimitive  con<iitions  than  in  expressions  of  luxury. 
The  old  idea  tiiat  the  good  things  are  always  the 
tilings  for  which  we  must  pay  dear,  has  wrought 
the  undoing  of  many  a  man.  Cost  is  an  arbitrary 
standard  of  value,  upon  which  it  is  never  safe  to 
depend. 

Water  and  sunshine  arc  none  the  less  good  for 
yimr  physical  being  because  they  are  abundant. 
Canvas  curtains  in  your  sitting-room  may  be  in 
better  taste  than  the  richest  tapestry.  A  wood  that 
is  inexpensive  because  it  grows  jilenti  fully  may 
lend  itself  to  a  charming  scheme  of  decoration.  A 
useful  thing,  carefully  wrought  out  of  inexpensive 
material,  may  be  more  pleasing  than  its  costly  pro- 
totype. 

We  need  a  new  standard  of  values  in  regulating 
our  lives  and  beautifying  our  surroundings.  We 
need  to  abate  our  passion  for  mere  possession;  to 
call  a  halt  in  our  feverish  pursuit  of  baubles.  We 
need  to  utter  a  protest  against  the  bewildering 
complications  into  which  we  are  constantly  in  dan- 
ger of  being  drawn  by  the  conditions  of  our  mod- 
ern civilization. 

The  Craft.sman  invites  conference  with  any 
reader  who  is  in  sympathy  with  its  ideals  for  home 
making  and  who  desires  a  wider  knowledge  of  the 
application  of  those  ideali. 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


A  COLLECTION  OF  CRAFTSMAN 
DRAWINGS 

ACOI-LECTION    of    hand-colored    drawings, 
selected  from  our  best  Craftsman  designs 
^   with  a  special  view  to  adaptability  for  use 
in   the   schools,   is   being   comiiilcd    in    re- 
sjjonse  to  repeated  requests. 

These  drawings  show  not  only  separate  pieces  of 
furniture,  but  a  number  of  interior  views  as  well. 
The  latter  present,  in  each  instance,  a  complete 
room,  with  careful  attention  to  every  detail.  They 
are  marked  by  original  and  unusual  effects  in 
wood-work,  wall-coverings,  hangings,  casement 
windows,  fire-places  and  floor-coverings.  Now 
and  then  a  simple  frieze,  in  quaint  illustrative  or 
decorative  pattern,  relieves  the  limitation  of  a 
wall.  .Vgain,  a  flight  of  martins  across  a  window 
or  a  pleasing  arrangement  of  a  fireside  corner  adds 
to  the  individuality  of  the  whole. 

The  color  combinations  are  the  result  of  special 
thought  and  have  attracted  nuich  favorable  com- 
ment. The  tones  are,  in  the  main,  soft  and  cool, 
with  exquisite  blendings  of  half-tones;  but  here 
.TTid  there  a  bolder  note  is  struck  bv  a  bit  of  warm 


color.  The  hues  of  the  autumn  woods  are  favored 
in  many  of  the  schemes:  the  cadenza  of  browns 
and  yellows  and  greens,  brightened  l)y  an  occa- 
sional gleam  of  red,  that  makes  the  charm  of  an 
autumn  landscape.  The  flat  tones,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  Japanese  color  prints,  give  the  sense  of 
permanence  that  the  Japanese  court  in  their  art. 

These  primitive,  suggesti%-e  effects  in  color  and 
form  arc  offered  as  a  substitute  for  the  highly 
realistic,  elaborated  objects  with  which  we  some- 
times surround  children.  The  simple  mind  of  a 
child  should  not  be  confused  with  complex  ideas 
in  art  and  household  furnishings.  As  an  inspira- 
tion to  work  in  design,  this  collection  of  simple 
drawings  is  adapted  to  appeal  to  students  of  every 
a  ge. 

The  drawings  ai'e,  in  general,  10  x  13  inches,  and 
are  on  detached  sheets  with  wide  white  margins, 
convenient  for  use  in  the  school-rooms.  There  are 
ten  sheets  in  the  collection;  several  of  them  includ- 
ing groups  of  separate  piece.s,  an  interesting  vari- 
ety, in  all,  being  presented. 

The  collection  will  be  given  for  one  new  sub- 
scriber to  The  Craftsman. 


BOOK  RE\  lEWS 


THE  G-4TE  Beautiful,  being  Principles 
AND  Methods  in  Vital  Art  Education. 
By  Profes.sor  John  Ward  Stimson.  To 
offer  a  criticism  upon  the  life-work  of 
Professor  Stimson,  "The  Gate  Beautiful,"  after  it 
has  formed  the  subject  of  a  symposium  in  The 
.\rena,  is  almost  a  misdirected  effort.  In  the  maga- 
zine mentioned,  it  was  treated  by  a  noted  professor 
of  aesthetics,  by  a  clergi|-raan  of  wide  reputation, 
and  by  the  former  president  of  an  Eastern  college, 
as  well  as  more  briefly  by  two  Californian  poets.  It 
is  interesting  to  note  the  individual  points  of  view 
taken  by  these  men  of  authority,  and  it  is  not  dis- 
paraging the  merit  of  the  otlier  writers  to  say  that 
the  art  professor  in  this  instance  ranks  first.  As 
is  natural,  his  is  the  most  specific  appreciation,  the 
one  which  liest  sums  up  the  characteristics  and 
best  indicates  the  scope  and  value  of  the  slowly 
and  reverently  prepared  work. 

Professor  Stimson's  hook  reveals  more  clearly, 
perhaps,  than  any  art-treatise  of  our  times  the 
character  and  soul  of  its  author.     He  is  a  mystic 


with  a  love  of  form  rising  to  a  passion,  it  were 
lietter  to  say  to  a  religion.  He  is  also  deeply  read 
in  the  literature,  history  and  phalosophy  of  all 
ages  and  peoples,  although  it  must  be  admitted 
that  he  uses  his  acquirements  as  an  instrument 
upon  which  he  alone  can  play.  It  may  also  be 
said  that  liis  great  wealth  of  quotation  turns  the 
reader  aside  from  the  path  of  consecutive  thought 
with  a  frequency  that  is  somewhat  disturbing:  a 
fact  which  gives  rise  in  the  mind  of  the  student  to 
the  wish  that  argument  «ere  more  often  substi- 
tuted for  statement.  But  these  are  minor  defects 
and  they  may  well  be  apparent  only  to  those  who 
demand  truths  simply  expressed  and  reason  with- 
out adornment.  Beside,  an  absolute  originality  of 
treatment,  a  compelling  power  in  word-combina- 
tions that  can  not  be  defined,  an  unusual  use  and 
assemblage  of  forms:  all  these  qualities  will  im- 
press the  most  careless  of  readers,  and,  in  many 
cases,  cause  him  to  seek  again  and  again  a  special 
page  recording  an  old  truth  in  a  new  and  attrac- 
tive mystic   garment  of  expression.     Among  Pro- 


800 


BOOK   KK\IE\VS 


fessor  Stimson's  critics  none,  strange  to  say,  has 
publicly  noted  the  resemblance  of  this  modern  ex- 
perimentalist to  I,eonardo  da  Vinci.  And  yet  such 
a  resemblance  exists  and  is  strong.  "Tlie  Gate 
Beautiful"  is  but  a  note  book,  like  Leonardo's,  com- 
posed of  sketch,  explanation  and  detailed  draw- 
ing, developed  more  fully  than  the  Italian's,  simply 
becavise  the  world  is  older,  science  more  perfect, 
and  all  knowledge  less  obscure.  The  comparison, 
easily  acknowledged  as  a  general  truth,  extends  to 
significant  details.  Professor  Stimson  follows  a  pro- 
gression of  forms  throughout  the  gamut  of  matter, 
studying  with  loving  care  snowflakes  and  crystals, 
sea-shells  and  fishes,  seed-vessels  and  curiously 
marked  insects,  just  as  Leonardo  is  known  to  have 
done  throughout  his  rich,  but  solitary  and  mis- 
judged, life.  It  results,  therefore,  that  in  turning 
the  leaves  of  "The  Gate  Beautiful,"  the  imaginative 
art  student  loses  himself  to  the  degree  that  he  be- 
lieves himself  in  tlic  presence  of  the  curious  back- 
handed writing  and  the  reversed  hatching  of  the 
drawing  which  were  the  signs  manual  of  the  great- 
est genius  of  the  Renascence.  [A.  Brandt,  Tren- 
ton, N.  J.  430  pages,  profusely  illustrated.  Size, 
9x12  inches.     Cloth,  price  $7,50  net;  paper,  .$3.50. 

Hephakstus  is  the  title  of  a  finely  printed,  thin 
volume  of  _  pentameter  verse,  written  by  Arthur 
Stringer.  The  versification  of  the  author  is  smooth, 
and  his  thought  refined.  Considered  as  a  study, 
the  work  is  credit.ible,  in  the  way  that  an  accu- 
rate cast-drawing  from  the  antique  is  worthy  of 
praise.  But  the  drawing,  although  possessed  of 
merit,  is  a  student's  effort,  pure  and  simple:  an 
effort  to  grasp  the  principles  of  art.  In  the  same 
degree,  Mr.  Stringer's  poems  of  "Hephacstos," 
"Persephone  at  Enna"  and  "Sai)i)ho  at  Leucadia" 
are  the  work  of  a  student  in  tlie  classics  who  is 
seeking  to  perfect  his  literary  form  and  facility. 
As  such  work  they  must  be  considered,  for  they 
lack  the  originality  which  justified  Matthew  Ar- 
nold and  Arthur  Clough  in  choosing  classical  sub- 
jects, and  which  rai.scd  their  writings  to  the  dig- 
nity of  literature.  [.Methodist  Book  and  Pulilish- 
ing  House,  Toronto.  43  pages.  Size,  5i/j,x7% 
inches.     Price  §1.00  net. 

Homes  and  Their  Decor.\tioss,  by  Lillie  Hamil- 
ton French,  is  a  book  written  by  a  woman  with  w  ide 
experience  in  her  profession,  who,  according  to  her 
own  acknowledgment,  has  made  no  attempt  to  dis- 


cuss architectural  periods  or  problems.  That  she 
has  advanced  to  a  point  beyond  many  of  her 
brothers  and  sisters  in  art  is  evident  from  a  pas- 
sage really  delightful  to  meet,  at  a  moment  when 
the  fever  for  the  historic  styles  and  "old  mahog- 
any" is  still  an  epidemic  of  virulent  type.  The 
passage  in  substance  says  that  "Desks,  once  used 
by  kings  or  magnates  of  importance,  and  which, 
like  those  shown  in  the  Louvre,  are  beautiful  ex- 
amples of  a  distinct  and  sumptuous  period  in  art, 
would  be  beyonil  the  reach  of  i)eo|)lc  of  moderate 
means.  Their  imitations  would  be  worthy  of 
blame.  They  arc.  therefore,  not  to  l)e  considered. 
The  mahogany  desk,  common  to  New  Kngland 
aiid  the  Southern  States  during  the  early  history 
of  our  country,  delightful  and  much  to  be  desired 
as  tliey  are,  adapt  themselves  to  those  rooms  oiUy 
in  which  the  rest  of  the  furniture  is  in  Iiarmony." 
It  were  well  if  these  o])inions  could  be  pi)])ular- 
i/.ed  among  those  who  retrench  the  conveniences  of 
their  kitchens,  that  they  may  possess  drawing 
rooms  "fine  and  French";  still  better,  among  the 
equally  large  class  of  Americans  wliose  ambitions 
reside  in  vain  aspirations  toward  the  ])osscssion  of 
a  colonial  ancestor  and  "a  grandfather's  clock." 
It  may  be  added  that  in  Mrs.  Frencli's  amply  illus- 
trated book,  the  most  attractive  picture  shows  a 
kitchen  with  its  chimney-piece  hung  with  copper 
cooking  utensils  and  quite  suggesting  the  interiors 
of  the  Dutch  painters.  [Dodd,  Mead  &  Co.,  New 
York.  '  430  pages,  illustrated.  Size,  3%x8Vi 
inches.     Price  $3.00. 

A  Book  of  Couxtby   Houses,  compuisiso   N'ixe- 

TEEN     l^'.XAMPI.ES    II.I.lSTIl ATEn    OS'    SiXTV-TWO    Pl.ATES, 

by  Ernest  Newton.  This  Book  Beautiful  is  a  collec- 
tion of  plans  and  elevations  of  English  houses  in 
the  countryside,  notably  in  Kent,  Hampshire, 
Yorkshire  and  the  Channel  Islands.  It  is  ad- 
dressed to  architects  and  would-be  possessors  of 
homes,  since  other  than  a  foreword  and  a  short 
explanation  of  the  plates,  there  is  no  descriptive 
text.  In  the  former  there  occurs  a  quotation 
worthy  to  be  repeated,  and  reading:  "To  be  happy 
at  home  is  the  ultimate  result  of  all  ambition"; 
there  is  also  in  the  same  paragraph  a  humorous 
word  of  warning  which  should  be  hung  in  all  of- 
fices devoted  to  the  production  of  domestic  archi- 
tecture. It  runs:  "The  most  commonplace  little 
wants  in  a  house  must  be  considered  and  the  plan- 
ner nmst  not  have  such  a  soaring  soul  that  he  Is 
unabfe  to   bring   himself  to  consider   them."     The 


•01 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


houses  here  presented  are  planned  with  picturesque 
roofs  and  provision  for  ample  lighting,  while  the 
structural  materials  are  for  the  most  part  red  brick, 
granite  and  red  tiles.  [John  l.ane.  New  York. 
Size,  11x14  inches. 

Industbi-\l-Social  Education,  by  William  A. 
Baldwin.  This  book  has  a  modestly  written  pre- 
face which  carries  conviction.  It  is  edited  by  Mr. 
William  A.  Baldwin,  the  principal  of  the  State 
Normal  School  at  Hyannis,  Massachusetts,  who,  in 
speaking  of  the  scheme  of  industrial-social  educa- 
tion in  which  he  is  so  deeply  interested,  makes  the 
following  statement:  "I  believe  that  we  are  work- 
ing in  right  lines,  even  if  our  work  is  crude;  that 
our  faces  are  toward  the  light,  and  that  our  work 

is   very  important This  book  is  an   attempt 

to  explain  to  any  who  may  be  interested  in  educa- 
tional development,  what  we  are  attempting  to  do 
by  way  of  the  application  of  the  principles  of  Pes- 
talozzi  and  Froebel."  The  body  of  the  book  is  pre- 
ceded by  an  introduction  in  the  most  fervent  style 
of  Mr.  Henry  Turner  Bailey,  and  the  illustrations 
of  the  various  crafts  as  practiced  at  the  Hyannis 
school  add  much  to  the  description  of  the  work. 
[Milton-Bradley  Co.,  Springfield,  Mass.  145  pages. 
Size,  7x9  inches. 

Vacation  Days  in  Greece,  by  the  noted  archae- 
ologist. Dr.  Rufus  B.  Richardson,  is  a  record  of 
periodical  visits  to  various  localities  in  Greece 
not  commonly  known  to  travelers  in  the  Hellenic 
peninsula.  In  a  residence  of  eleven  years  in  Greece 
the  author  made  these  journeys  the  subjects  of 
descriptive  articles  contributed  to  various  period- 
icals; and  at  the  suggestion  of  many  members  of 
the  American  School  of  Classical  Studies  at  Athens 
they  are  now  put  into  this  form.  "For  the  most 
part,"  the  author  explains,  "I  have  avoided  what  has 
been  most  frequently  described.  Athens,  Olympia 
and  the  much-visited  Argive  plain,  I  have  not 
touched  upon,  because  I  did  not  wish  to  swell  the 
book  by  telling  thrice-told  tales.  I  tell  of  what  I 
have  most  enjoyed,  in  the  hope  that  readers  may 
feel  with  me  the  charm  of  the  poet's  land,  which 
has,  more  than  any  other,  'infinite  riches  in  little 
room.' "  Dr.  Richardson  has  much  to  tell  of  the 
hospitality  of  the  Greeks,  the  charm  of  the  scenery 
and  the  glories  of  centuries  long  gone  by;  and  with 
the  zeal  of  the  archaeologist,  he  brings  a  frequent 
touch  of  research  to  bear  upon  scenes  made  fa- 
mous in  classic  song  and  story.     Among  chapters 


of  especial  value  are  those  which  recount  "A  Day 
in  Ithaca,"  "A  Climb  Over  Taygetos  and  Kithae- 
ron,"  "A  Journey  from  Athens  to  Eretria"  and 
"An  Unusual  Approach  to  Epidauros."  A  chapter 
each  is  also  devoted  to  Sicily  and  Corfu.  The  illus- 
trations are  out  of  the  ordinary,  abundant  and  well 
chosen,  and  the  book  will  appeal  with  equal  reason 
to  the  general  reader,  the  student  of  classic  litera- 
ture, or  the  archaeologist.  [Charles  Scribner's 
Sons.     Size,  51/2x8.     Price  $3.00. 

Tolstoy  and  His  Mes3.\ge.  That  no  man  may 
live  unto  himself;  that  everyone  must,  whether  he 
wills  it  so,  or  no,  breathe  a  message  to  those  with 
whom  he  comes  in  daily  contact,  is  strongly  set 
forth  in  this  sketch  of  Tolstoy  by  his  "leading  dis- 
ciple in  America,"  Ernest  Crosby.  To  bring  the 
reader  to  a  more  clear  understanding  of  the  spirit 
of  the  great  and  gentle  philosopher,  Mr.  Crosby 
recounts,  briefly  and  simply,  his  early  life,  giving 
in  an  opening  chapter  this  incident:  At  eighteen,  on 
a  memorable  night,  when  with  other  young  noble- 
men he  had  spent  the  hours  in  feasting,  he  found 
his  peasant-coachman  half  frozen,  and  with  diflB- 
culty  brought  him  back  to  consciousness.  Then 
and  there,  he  took  the  lesson  of  selfish  luxury  to 
lieart  and  went  down  to  his  estates  with  the  deter- 
mination to  devote  his  life  to  the  serfs,  whose  in- 
terest became  to  liim  a  sacred  trust.  Mr.  Crosby 
follows  him  through  boyhood  and  manhood;  re- 
counts his  temptations,  and  gives  the  story  of  his 
spiritual  unrest,  and  of  the  crisis  through  which  he 
passed  to  find  his  true  self.  "I  do  not  live  when 
I  lose  faith  in  the  existence  of  God,"  he  said;  "I 
only  really  live  v\hen  I  seek  Him.  To  know  God 
and  to  live,  are  one."  He  renounced  the  life  of 
his  own  class,  which  for  its  very  luxury  prevented 
the  possibility  of  understanding  life,  and  became 
as  a  simple  peasant;  "as  one  of  those  who  produce 
life  and  give  it  meaning."  It  is  against  class  dis- 
tinctions, as  the  cause  of  enmity  among  men,  and 
the  chief  peril  to  brotherly  love,  that  Tolstoy  sets 
himself.  "I  can  no  longer,"  he  claims,  "try  to  rise 
above  other  men,  to  separate  myself  from  them; 
nor  can  I  admit  either  rank  or  title  for  myself  or 
others,  except  the  title  of  'man.'  I  cannot  help 
seeking  in  my  way  of  life,  in  its  surroundings,  in 
my  food,  my  clothes,  my  manners,  to  draw  nearer 
to  the  majority  of  men,  and  to  avoid  all  that  sep- 
arates me  from  them."  Certainly,  Tolstoy's  mes- 
sage to  the  world  is  most  eloquently  set  forth  in 
the  life  he  lives,  and  Mr.  Crosby  has  given  it  a 


90S 


BOOK   REVIEWS 


worthy   interpretation.     [Funk   &   Wagnalls   Com- 
pany.    Sire,  -tV'oxT;  pages,  93.     Price  50  cents. 

"How  TO  Judge  ARCiiiTECTrBE,"  by  Russell  Stur- 
gis,  the  leading  critic  of  art  and  architecture  in 
.\merica,  is  a  book  which  may  be  read  with  profit 
by  those  wlio  "have  eyes  and  see  not."  The  object 
of  this  attractive  volume,  as  given  by  the  author,  is: 
"to  help  the  reader  to  acquire,  little  by  little,  such 
an  indejiendent  knowledge  of  the  essential  charac- 
teristics of  good  buildings,  and  also  sucli  a  sense  of 
the  possible  differences  of  opinion  concerning  ines- 
sentials, that  he  will  always  enjoy  the  sight,  the 
memory,  or  the  study  of  a  noble  structure,  without 
undue  anxiety  as  to  whether  he  is  right  or  wrong. 
Rightncss  is  relative.  To  have  a  trained  observa- 
tion, knowledge  of  principles,  and  a  sound  judg- 
ment as  to  proprieties  of  construction  and  design, 
is  to  be  able  to  form  your  opinions  for  yourself, 
and  to  understand  that  you  come  nearer  month  by 
month,  to  a  really  complete  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
ject, seeing  clearly  what  is  good,  and  the  causes  of 
its  goodness ;  and  also  the  not-so-good  which  is  there, 
inevitably  there,  as  a  part  of  the  goodness  itself." 
Taking  the  early  Greek  temple  as  the  most  per- 
fect thing  that  decorative  art  has  produced  and 
about  which  there  is  no  serious  dispute,  Mr.  Sturgis 
notes  its  extreme  simplicity,  and  points  out  that  this 
simplicity  is  to  be  taken  as  not  having  led  to  bare- 
ness, lack  of  incident,  or  lack  of  charm;  but  has 
served  to  give  the  Greek  artist  an  easy  control  over 
details  and  their  organization  into  a  comi)lete  whole. 
From  this  beginning,  aided  by  a  large  number  of 
illustrations,  there  are  brought  to  the  reader's  view 
characteristic  structures,  ancient  and  modern,  from 
which  one  may  come  to  know  of  each,  what  was  its 
reason  for  being,  its  limitations,  its  possibilities. 
The  Greek  temple,  ancient  cathedral,  or  modern 
business  building,  has  its  own  message  to  give,  its 
own  lesson  of  good  or  bad  in  art  to  teach.  From 
these,  Mr.  Sturgis  has  evolved  some  easily  com])re- 
hended  rules,  by  which  one  may  form,  as  it  were, 
an  architectural  judgment.  He  deplores  the  fact 
that  the  architect  of  the  present  century  has  so  little 
opportunity  to  "retire  unto  himself,"  to  lock  his 
door  and  give  himself  up  to  uninterrupted  thought, 
which  alone  can  help  him  to  bring  out  his  design  in 
its  artistic  sense.  Having  read  this  Ijook,  one  may 
have  courage  to  begin  to  think  for  himself,  and  to 


enjoy  with  an  intelligence  unbiased  by  schools  or 
traditions  such  buildings  as  come  before  him  In  his 
daily  walk;  and  they  will  have  for  him  a  now  mean- 
ing and  a  new  interest.  [New  York:  The  Baker  & 
Taylor  Company.  Size,  (i'/^,x!>U,;  pages,  21i;  abun- 
dantly illustrated.     Price  $1.50. 

One  of  the  most  profitable  books  of  travel  that 
liavc  a])pcarcd  this  season  is  Hili.  Towns  ok  Italy, 
by  I'.gerton  U.  Williams,  Jr.  It  is  an  exceedingly 
readable  volume  of  fifteen  varied  chapters  devoted 
to  personal  observation  based  upon  a  spring  and 
summer  spent  in  the  historical  towns  of  the  Apen- 
nines, between  Rome  and  Florence.  The  book  em- 
braces a  province  too  seldom  covered  in  usual  dis- 
cussions of  Italian  life  and  art;  and  he  who  would 
study  old  F.truria  discerningly  and  relatedly  owes 
a  real  debt  to  the  author.  In  the  preface  we  find 
a  clear  statement  of  the  claims  of  these  tomis  to 
the  consideration  of  the  traveler;  their  high  state 
of  civilization  before  the  founding  of  Rome,  when 
they  controlled  Italy  and  the  seas;  their  guardian- 
ship of  civilization  after  the  downfall  of  the  Ro- 
man empire;  the  protection  of  learning  in  their 
churches  and  monasteries  during  the  ensuing  dark 
ages;  the  sturdy  resistance  that  in  time  availed  to 
throw  oif  the  yoke  of  Frank  and  German  and  en- 
able them  to  constitute  themselves  into  free  repub- 
lics; and  their  impulse  to  our  civilization  of  to-day 
through  the  Renascence,  to  which  marvelous  move- 
ment they  not  only  gave  birth — "they  bound  it  into 
the  very  fibres  of  their  bodies  and  the  principles  of 
their  existence."  The  writer  is  keenly  sensitive  to 
the  natural  beauties  of  the  town-dotted  slopes  over 
which  he  leads  us;  he  dwells  often, — sjiupathetic- 
ally  and  informally,  rather  than  technically, — on 
the  art  of  these  old  centers  of  civilization  made  sa- 
cred by  the  occasional  touch  of  a  Perugino,  a  Cim- 
abue  or  a  Fra  Angelico;  but  the  charm  that  he 
finds  inevitably  for  us  in  this  enchanting  land  is 
in  the  wide  significance  of  its  past.  Throughout 
the  pilgrimage,  we  are  never  long  permitted  to  for- 
get, in  our  keen  enjoyment  of  the  present  asjiect  of 
"lovely  Spoleto,"  "holy  Assisi,"  or  "proud  Siena," 
its  "marvelous  past  of  thirty  centuries."  The  text 
is  pleasingly  illuminated  by  varied  illustrations 
from  photographs.  (Houghton,  MifTlln  &  Co.,  Oc- 
tober, 1903.  Size,  5'/jx8%i  390  pages.  Price  S3.00 
net. 


tos 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


MEMORABLE  IN  THE  OCTOBER 
MAGAZINES 

THE  Sportsman's  Number  of  The  Century 
has  a  "woodsy,  wild  and  lonesome  air" 
fitting  to  its  title.  Old  England  and  Fair 
France  join  with  our  own  country  in 
offering  pictures  of  forests  and  types  of  un- 
tamed existence  which  are  pleasant  things  to 
contemplate  while  the  harvest  moon  rides  high  in 
the  heavens.  There  are  many  of  these  attractive 
illustrations,  such  as  the  hunting  dogs  of  Madame 
la  Duchcsse  d'Uzes,  straining  at  their  leashes,  or 
marshalled  before  their  kennels.  There  are  also 
enchanting  little  studies  of  birds  mounting  to  their 
nests  with  their  prey  of  insects,  or  trying  their 
timid  young  wings  in  flight.  The  text  joins  with 
the  illustrations  (among  which  the  beautiful  wood- 
scene  of  the  frontispiece  must  not  he  forgotten) 
in  making  the  Sportsman's  Number  a  brilliant  suc- 
cess. The  enterprise  should  be  paralleled  the 
coming  spring  by  an  i.ssue  devoted  to  the  pleas- 
ures of  that  "sweet  season." 

The  Review  of  Reviews  in  its  table  of  contents 
honors  the  humanitarian  tendency  which  is  gather- 
ing force  daily  and  accomplishing  much  toward 
the  removal  of  the  plague-spots  from  our  cities, 
as  well  as  toward  the  urbanizing  of  the  country 
population:  the  great  purpose  to  which  the  la- 
mented Frederick  Eaw  Olmsted  acknowledged  tliat 
he  devoted  his  l)est  efforts.  The  very  titles  of  the 
articles  offered  by  the  Review  are  so  inspiring  that 
to  recall  them  is  to  realize  the  beneficent  activity 
now  at  fever  heat  among  us.  They  are:  "What  the 
Low  Administration  Has  Done  for  New  York's 
Masses,"  "The  New  Education  for  Farm  Children" 
and  "Learning  by  Doing  for  the  Farmer  Boy." 
By  the  nmltiplication  of  means  such  as  are  dis- 
cussed in  these  articles  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
melancholy  incident  to  the  country  and  the  vicious- 
ness  peculiar  to  the  city  may  be  absorbed  and  lost 
in  healthful  activity  as  a  mist  rolls  away  before 
the  sun. 

Bhush  and  Pencil,  in  accordance  with  the  stand- 
ard of  excellence  apparently  set  in  the  October 
magazines  of  the  country,  presents  an  unusual  list 
of  articles.  One  of  these,  entitled  "Children's 
Books  for  Children,"  is  illustrated  with  clever 
drawings  of  animals  by  W.  W.  Denslow,  and  a 
series  of  figure-studies  by  Boutet  de  Monvel.     The 


charm  of  the  latter  artist  is  impossible  to  describe, 
but  it  is  none  the  less  strong  and  real  for  this  pe- 
culiarity. The  most  pleasing  of  the  series  is  a  re- 
production in  pen  and  ink  of  a  group  of  French 
children  of  the  poor  surrounding  the  cage  of  a  bird 
merchant.  The  backs,  the  legs,  the  arras  of  the 
children,  eagerly  leaning  forward  to  study  the 
finches,  are  so  thoroughly  French,  that  one  listens 
involuntarily  for  the  clear,  shriU  voice  which 
should  accompany  some  quaint  little  figure  of  the 
group.  Another  valuable  article  treats  a  phase  of 
the  civic  improvement  movement,  dealing  with 
three  cities  differing  so  widely  in  size,  character  of 
population,  and  situation  as  North  Billerica,  Mass., 
Harrisburg,  Pa.,  and  St.  Louis. 

The  CHAUTAuau.\N,  in  its  "Survey  of  Civic  Bet- 
terment," quotes  the  following  words  from  Wil- 
liam PL  Maxwell,  Sui)c>rintendent  of  the  Schools 
of  New  York:  "It  is  admitted  so  generally  that 
children  in  the  schools  should  be  taught  something 
about  the  government  of  the  city  in  which  they 
live,  that  the  statement  is  practically  a  truism.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  like  many  of  those  patriotic 
generalities,  to  the  effect  that  love  of  country 
should  be  inculcated  in  the  young,  this  truism  also 
is  couched  in  most  abstract  terms.  Little  or  noth- 
ing is  said  as  to  practical  ways  and  means  of  teach- 
ing these  things.  It  is  just  here  that  the  Commit- 
tee on  Instruction  in  Municipal  Government  thinks 
that  its  work  begins.  It  must  take  these  patriotic 
utterances  and  civic  truisms  and  make  from  them 
practical  suggestive  courses  of  study  for  the  use 
of  teachers,  the  benefit  of  the  children,  and  the 
advantage  of  the  municipality.  The  committee 
hopes  to  he  able  to  say  to  the  teacher:  'Teach  the 
child  this  thing  and  that  thing  about  the  city,  and 
preferably  in  the  way  that  is  judged  to  be  the  best 
to  make  an  interested  and  worthy  junior  citizen.' 
This,  I  think,  will  be  a  welcome  substitute  for  the 
glittering  generalities  ordinarily  promulgated  for 
the  guidance  of  instructors." 

The  Metropolitan  Magazine  contains,  like  many 
of  its  contemporaries  in  their  corresponding  issue, 
things  that  are  eloquent  of  the  open,  of  free  air 
and  of  large  liberty.  In  this  publication  we  find 
an  article  very  attractively  illustrated  upon  the  vil- 
lage gardens  of  the  old  French  province  of  Brit- 
tany, where  the  people  are  distinctly  Celtic,  and 
the  last  but  powerful  traces  of  feudalism  and  the 
Middle  Ages  remain  to  give  color  to  the  life.     The 


204 


1?0()K   REVIEWS 


article  and  pictures,  interesting  in  themselves,  ac- 
quire a  further  charm  by  recalling  the  peasant- 
types  of  that  most  genial  of  all  French  painters, 
,hil*s  Breton,  and  that  saddest  of  all  French  writ- 
ers, Pierre  I.oti,  if  he  be  judged  by  his  Brittany 
masterpiece,  "The  Iceland  Fishennan." 

• 

An  attractive  article  in  Good  Housekeepixg  for 
Octol)er  is  "In  the  Homes  of  Japan,"  by  Florence 
Peltier,  with  illustrations  by  G.  Yets.  The  writer 
describes  the  homes  of  the  gentle  little  Oriental 
people  as  "superior  in  artistic  worth  to  the  homes 
of  other  lands."  She  shows  how  the  national  rev- 
erence for  beauty  combines  with  peculiar  natural 
conditions  to  foster  simplicity  in  Japanese  homes. 
On  account  of  the  ever-present  menace  of  earth- 
quakes, homes  must  be  lightly  built,  to  avoid  harm 
to  the  inhabitants  in  the  contingency  of  falling 
walls.  As  these  light  structures  are  quickly  de- 
stroyed by  fire,  "very  little  be-sides  the  articles  ac- 
tually required  for  daily  use  are  found  in  the  ma- 
jority of  Japanese  homes As   these  people 

are  ever  looking  for  beauty  in  the  most  ordinary 
things,  every  commonplace  utensil  in  the  house- 
hold has  been  made  an  object  upon  which  to  exer- 
cise skill  in  decoration,  and  everj'  natural  beauty  is 
seized  upon  and  used  to  advantage.  Where  wood 
is  employed  in  building,  its  grain  and  even  the 
pretty  markings  made  upon  it  by  worms  are  left 
to  be  admired,  and  not  vulgarly  covered  with  putty 

and   paint The   interior   arrangement   of   a 

Japanese  house  may  seem  to  us,  at  first  glance,  bare 
and  uncomfortable,  but  after  becoming  accustomed 
to  it  one  turns  to  the  stuffy  rooms  of  the  western 
world  with  weariness."  A  pretty  expression  of  the 
.lapanese  instinct  for  beauty,  appreciatively  touched 


upon  in  the  article,  is  "the  chamber  of  the  inspiring 
view"  in  nearly  every  home,  the  essential  require- 
ment of  which  is  that  from  it  one  may  look  out 
upon  something  of  picturesque  value.  Here,  we 
are  told,  "when  there  is  something  of  particular 
interest  to  see,  the  family  and  guests  gather,  and 
the  screens  are  rolled  back,  that  these  beauty 
worshippers  may  delight  in  the  moonlight,  a  blos- 
soming cherry  tree,  or  the  newly  fallen  snow." 
Madeline  Yale  Wynne  contributes  "The  Influence 
of  Arts  and  Crafts,"  looking  back  to  the  early 
days  when  art  and  craft  were  a  part  of  the  daily 
doings  of  the  thrifty  housewife,  the  village  silver- 
smith or  cal>inet-maker, — "a  beautiful,  unconscious, 
natural  thing;  it  had  no  name,  it  bad  not  been  in- 
terWewed,  written  up,  it  was  not  a  cult.  It  was 
l)iit  the  work  of  a  man's  hand  done  of  necessity,  to 
fill  a  need,  beautiful  of  necessity,  for  beauty  is 
close  friend  to  the  work  that  is  done  imder  whole- 
some conditions  and  in  a  cheerful  spirit."  The 
writer  spc;iks  of  the  disappearance  of  arts  and 
crafts  coincident  with  the  perfection  of  machinery, 
and  of  its  recent  reappearance  in  the  midst  of 
complicated  conditions;  she  utters  a  discriminating 
protest  against  the  current  flood  of  machine-made 
products  in  imitation  of  hand-work. 

In  The  HorsE  Beautiiui.  for  October,  Gardner 
C.  Teall  writes  appreciatiNely  of  the  life  and  work 
of  Bernard  Palissy,  potter.  An  interesting  ac- 
count is  given  of  the  endurance  and  the  success  of 
this  sturdy  sixteenth  century  artist-craftsman,  who, 
self-taught  in  his  art,  found  experience  a  dear 
school,  if  a  successful  one.  Virginia  Dare,  in 
"Curio  Hunting  on  the  Pacific  Coast,"  tells  of  rare 
treasures  to  be  dug  out  of  dingy  cellars  and  dusty 
slii)]is  in  San  Francisco. 


■iOi 


THE  CRAFTSMAN  PRIZE 
COMPETITION 


THE  aim  and  spirit  of  these  compe- 
titions are  elaborated  elsewhere  in 
the  School  Department.  It  is  par- 
ticularly lioped  that  the  interest 
of  the  schools  may  be  engaged  and  that 
many  students  will  be  encoui'aged  to  com- 
pete. Other  prizes  will  be  offered  from 
month  to  month  if  the  interest  shown  by 
art  students  warrants  the  continuation  of 
the  series. 

The  competitions  opened  in  the  present 
issue  are  as  follows: 

Competition  A. — Design  for  a  Hall  Clock. 
Fir.tt  Pri~e:    $15.     Second  Prize:    $10. 

Competition  B. — Design  for  a  Set  of 
Furniture  for  Child's  Bedroom.  First 
Prize:    $25.     Second  Prize:    $15. 

The  following  rules  will  govern  the 
Competitions : 

1.  Any  regular  subscriber  to  The 
Craftsman  is  eligible  to  compete. 

2.  All  designs  must  be  original.  They 
should  be  in  the  spirit  of  the  New  Art, 
which    breaks    away    from    historic    styles. 

Address : 

COMPETITION 


206 


Nothing  will  be  considered  that  can  be 
traced  to  existing  patterns.  The  designs 
should  also  be  simple,  in  accord  with  the 
Arts  and  Crafts  ideal  of  structural  beauty 
as  opposed  to  superficial  adornment.  The 
fanciful  and  ornate  will  not  be  favored. 
(It  is  suggested,  in  the  case  of  Competition 
B,  that  appropriate  nursery  pictures  form 
a  feature  of  the  decorative  scheme.) 

3.  The  proprietor  of  The  Craftsman 
reserves  the  right  to  withhold  any  or  all 
prizes,  in  case  the  drawings  are  found  by 
the  judges  to  violate  the  rules  of  the  com- 
petition, or  to  be  of  insufficient  merit.  All 
prize  designs  become  the  property  of  the 
proprietor  of  The  Craftsman. 

4.  Each  drawing  should  be  of  suitable 
size  for  the  pages  of  The  Craftsman  (not 
smaller  than  twice  nor  larger  than  tliree 
times  the  size  of  a  page),  and  should  be 
sent  packed  flat. 

5.  No  drawing  will  be  returned  to  com- 
petitor unless  accompanied  by  postage. 

6-  Every  design  must  be  received  as 
early  as  January  1,  lOOi. 

DEPARTMENT, 

THE    CRAFTSMAN, 

SvR.\cusE,    New    Vokk. 


i 


I 


T  H  E    S  H  K  P  II  I',  U  U  S 

I'nim  a  \vnfi-r  ocilor  l)y  Hakvey  Elms 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


V..1 


T 


111:     SACKED    CIPIIERS 
CARYL  COLEMAN. 


DEC  K  M  1?EK 
HY 


1  '.M);5 


N 


;j 


Ai.i.  >tu(lints  of  oni.uiiont,  sooner 
or  later,  ask  themselves  if  the  sole  object  of 
ornainentation  is  to  gratify  mankind's  love 
for  the  beautiful.  The  more  profound 
their  study,  the  greater  their 
rescarcli,  the  oftener  will  the 
question  come  into  their 
minds,  until  they  are  forced 
to  admit  that  there  may  be 
some  other  object,  some  other 
aim :  tliat  underneath  the 
form  a  truth  mav  he  hidden  Different 

of  far  more  importance  than  mere  beauty : 
in  other  words,  that  all,  or  almost  all,  orna- 
mentation is  primarily  symbolical,  and 
that  in  all  probability  tlie  true  object  of 
tiic  original  designer  was  to  tcacli  a  given 
truth,  or  what  he  believed  to  be  a  trutli,  and 
that  the  oniaiiiciit  he  created  was  only  an 
instrument  with  whicli  to  gain  the  attention 
of  men :  an  appeal  to  their  sipritual  nature 
through  a  material  form. 

One  of  the  proofs  of  the  above  supposi- 
tion is  the  persistency  and  universality  of 
certain  ornaments,  which  are  admittedly 
symbols.  Not  that  they  always  stand  for  the 
same  thought,  but  simply  they  sugge.st  to 
the  mind  something  else  than 
the  object  they  actually  rep- 
resent. For  the  ])urp()sc  of 
studying  this  proof  take 
„  ...    some      ornament      which      is 

Cretan  <*oiii   witli 

camnm<li..n  widely  distrilnited  over  the 
world,  such  as  the  gammadion,  and  no 
better  choice  could  be  made,  as  it  is  to  be 


seen  uj)i)ii  tlie  di'ess  of  the  Ilittite  kings, 
upon  the  archaic  pottery  of  Greece  and 
Cyprus,  upon  the  coins  of  Magna  Graecia, 
upon  the  gold  jewelry  of  the  Etruscans, 
upon  the  sword-hilts,  belts  and  sepulchral 
monuments  of  the  Celts  and  Anglo-Saxons, 
upon  the  vases  of  China  and  Japan,  in  fact, 


forms  of  Constantinian  cipliers.  Ri>ni.Tii  eataooniljs 

it  has  been  a  decorative  mofif  from  the 
earliest  time,  and  is  found  upon  all  kinds  of 
objects,  among  all  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
except  the  Egyptians,  Chaldeans  and  As- 
syrians. Moreover,  it  has  been  used  in- 
difFcrently  by  pagan,  Rrahmin,  Buddhist 
and  Christian. 

The  ornamental  value  of  tlie  gammadion 
is  .self-evident,  but  not  its  significance,  for 
its  esoteric  meaning  depends  upon  the 
people  employing  it.  Hence  it  has  various 
svniholic  values:  at  one  time  it  is  a  symbol 
of  fecundity,  at  anotiier  of  prosperity,  and 
at  another  of  salvation ;  often,  it  is  a  mere 
sign  of  talismanic  import,  standing  as  an 
exponent  of  a  truth,  or  a  falsehood,  or  a 
sui)erstition,  as  the  case  may  be.  It  seems 
to  belong  peculiarly  to  the  Aryan  division 
of  tlie  human  family,  the  ])ro])erty  alike  of 
the  semi-civili/.ed  and  the  civilized,  coming 
to  a  race  by  nu"gration,  or  by  spontaneous 
creation  ;  for  the  gammadion,  like  all  other 
ornament,  comes  under  the  universal  law  of 


ioi 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


consequence,  viz. :  that  like  conditions  pro- 
duce like  results.  In  the  first  instance,  it 
represented  the  sun  and  solar  movement,  and 
in  the  last  Clirist,  the  Corner-stone,  and  the 
Apostles,  the  foundation  stones  of  the  Hea- 
venly Jerusalem. 

Just  as  the  gammadion  has  both  a  deco- 
rative and  a  .symbolic  side,  so  have  all,  or 
almost  all,  other  ornaments;  just  as  the 
gaiiniKiiliiin  existed  before  the  advent  of 
Cin-istianity,  so  did  the  Sacred  Ciphers; 
just  as  the  g(iiiniiii(lion  had  one  or  more 
significations  under  paganism  and  another 
among  the  Christians,  so  had  the  Sacred 
Ciphers;  tlie  later  meaning  having  nothing 
whatever  to  do  with  the  ])revious  ones;  it 
was  not  the  outcome  of  a  migration  or  a 
development,  or  a  paganizing  of  Christian- 
ity, but  simply  the  borrowing  of  a  form 
and  the  gift  to  it  of  an  absolutely  new  sym- 
bolic value. 

In  the  Sacred  Cipliers  the  Christians 
found  sonirthing  ready,  at  hand,  which  they 
could  use  as  monogramatized  aiibreviations 
of  the  two  names  of  the  IMaster,  and  they 
wisely  employed  them;  moreover,  they  be- 
]ii'\eil  that  the  use  of  the  Sacred  Cipher, 
the  Chrisma,  was  sanctioned  by  Heaven  it- 
self. 

The  first  cijiher  used  by  tlie  early  Chris- 
tian was  practically  a  six-pointed  star, 
familiar  to  the  pagan  world  as  a  symbolic 
thunderbolt,  and  wlu'n  confined  within  a 
circle,  as  a  syml)ol  of  the  sun:  the  amulet 
par  (WccUcncc  of  the  Gauls,  but  in  it  the 
Christian  foimd  a  compendious  form  of 
writing  the  Sacred  Names;  for  when  they 
reduced  it  to  its  com])onent  jiarts,  they 
foimd  it  was  a  coinliination  of  I  and  X,  the 
initial  letters  in  Greek  of  the  two  words 
Jesus    Christ    (  I?;(Tor?    Xfjiortk.).      Just    the 


time  it  was  first  employed  in  this  way  is  not 
known;  it  occurs,  however,  on  inscriptions 
as  early  as  the  ^-ear  268,  and  forms  an 
integral  part  of  the  same,  even  when  the 
inscrij)tion  was  written  in  Latin,  as  the 
following  epitaph  from  the  Cemetery  of 
Thraso  demonstrates : 

Prima  vivis  in  gloria  Dei  et  in  pace  Dom- 
ini  Nostri. 

"Prima,  thou  livest  in  the  glory  of  God, 
and  in  the  peace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

This  cipher  was  of  great  value  to  the 
primitive  Christians,  as  they  were  compelled 
when  giving  public  expression  to  their  dog- 
mas, to  use  symbols,  in  order  to  guard  their 
more  sacred  doctrine  from  the  profanation 
of  their  pagan  contemporaries. 

To  change  this  cipher  into  the  Chrisma 
of  Constantine  was  an  easy  matter.  All  that 
was  necessary  was  to  add  a  loop  to  the  top 
of  the  I  (iota), the  middle  spoke  of  the  solar- 
wheel,  and  in  this  way  create  an  abbrevia- 
tion of  the  official  name  of  the  Holy  One  of 
Isi-acl,  a  monogram  of  the  word  XPICTOC 
(Christos),  formed  by  a  union  of  the  first 
two  letters :  the  X  and  the  P.  This  mono- 
gram, liowever,  was  in  use  long  before  the 
days  of  Constantine,  even  prior  to  the 
Christian  era,  for  it  is  found  upon  the  coins 
of  Ptolemy  I,  823  B.  C,  and  upon  those  of 
the  Bactrian  king  Hippostratos,  130  B.  ('., 
and  it  also  appears  upon  a  coin  struck  at 
Maconia  in  Lydia  by  Dccius,  the  great 
})ersecut()r  of  the  Christians.  It  stood  in 
all  these  cases  for  the  Greek  word  Xpiut,  lo 
anoint.  It  was  first  used  by  the  Christians 
after  it  became  a  part  of  the  labarum  of 
Constantine,  who  placed  it  uj)on  his  stand- 
ard because  of  a  vision  and  dream.  It  is 
said  that  when  Constantine  was  about  to 
attack  the   forces  of  Maxentius,  there  ap- 


208 


SACKED    CIPHERS 


A  coin  iif  (.'uiijitantine.    On  tlu-  rcv^-rsc  the  lubaniin 


peared  in  the  skv.  at  midday,  in  sig-lit  of  standard:  liilxirni.  Constantino  not  only 
his  army,  tlic  Cln-isma  with  the  words:  madr  the  laharum  tlie  iinj)erial  ensitrn,  but 
"By  this  Conquer."'  Subsequently  he  iiad  a  lie  also  commandeil  it  to  be  useti  as  tlie 
dream  coiicirning-  it,  as   related  by   Euse-      insignia  of  tiic  military  order  of  tlic  Lnhnri, 

an  organization  instituted  for 
the  defense  of  Christianity. 

In  posl-Constantinian  times 
the  Sacred  Cij)h(r  was  often 
accompanied  by  the  Alpha 
and  Omega,  in  allusion  to  the 
two  words;  /  iiiii  tlic  Alpha 
and  the  Oiiicffii.  the  first  and 
the  last,  and  in  tliat  way 
setting  forth  the  eternity  of 
the  Word  and  the  equality  of 
bius,  Socrates  and  Lactantius;  the  latter  the  Son  witii  the  Father :  The  same  was  in 
writer  says  in  the  De  Mortib/is  Persecu-  the  heginn'mg  Kith  God.  All  things  were 
torium  that  "Constantinc  was  admonished  made  by  him;  and  u-ithout  him  -u-as  made 
in  sleep  to  mark  the  heavenly  sign  of  God  nothing  that  xcas  made.  Sometimes  the 
on  the  shields,  and  so  to  engage  the  enemy,  cipher  was  also  combined  with  the  letter  N 
He  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  marked  the  (nu),  the  initial  of  the  word  Nika  (con- 
name  of  Christ  on  the  shields,  by  the  letter  (juor).  IJoth  ciphers  are  often  found  in 
X  drawn  across  them,  with  the  top  circum-  union  with  this  word  in  decorations,  in- 
flexed.*'  Whether  or  not  this  vision  and  scriptions  and  ui)on  various  objects. 
dream  are  myths  is  of  no  moment,  for  the  In  addition  to  the  above  described  ciphers 

fact  remains  that  Constantine 
caused  a  cavalry  standard 
(vexillum)  to  be  surmounted 
with  a  golden  garland,  set 
with  precious  stones,  in  the 
center  of  which  was  placed  the 
Chrisma,  and  further,  that  he 
adopted  it  as  the  imperial  en- 
sign, and  ordered  it  to  be  car- 
ried at  the  head  of  his  army, 
appointing  fifty-two  selected  "^ ''"'"  "^ •^""'"""ti'H' «i'i'  '!"■  lai.an.n, „„  Uk- iMi.„.-t 

soldiers  to  act  as  the  body  guard.  This  there  is  a  third  one,  which  is  far  more 
standard  was  known  as  the  labarum,  not  a  familiar,  as  it  is  employed  to-day  extensive- 
a  new  word,  but  of  foreign  origin,  and  ly  in  church  decorations,  in  ecclesiastical 
probably  derived  from  the  Basque  word  for     embroidery  and  upon  all   kinds  of  church 


'209 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


funiifuiv,  viz.:  tlic  monogram  formt'd  with 
the    letters  I  H   S.      This    cipher    is    sup- 


re. in  uf  Fuh-ius  \';il>'i-ius  Ciinst;ililnius 
posetl  l)_v  tlie  ignorant  to  stand  for  tlie  Eng- 
lisli  sentence:  "I  have  suffered,"  or:  "I  have 
saved,"  and,  among  the  more  intelHgont,  for 
the  Latin  sentence:  "Jesus  Hominum  Salva- 
tor"  (Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  men),  while  in 
truth  it  is  an  abbreviation  of  the  name  Jesus 
in  Greek,  the  first  three  letters  of  the  word. 
Among    the    early    Christians    the    name 


Coin  of  Ct.nstiintirif.    Th.    Knipcmr  licMiiii;  thr  hil.arum 

Jesus  was  not  written  in  this  way  Ij^o-ofs, 
but  with  uncials,  large  letters,  something  be- 
tween ca})itals  and  small  lettei-s :  IIICOA'C. 
hence  the  contraction  was  IHC,  the  Greek 
sigma  taking  the  form  of  the  Latin  C.  In 
time,  this  abbreviation  with  its  monograms 
became  so  fixed  in  the  Christian  mind,  and 
was  so  universally  used,  it  took  its  ])lace  as 


C.iin  iil'Cciii-tantiiii'.  tin-  laliaruni  on  the  ri'vcrsc 

a  symbol;  so  much  so  that  scriljes,  in  their 
Latin  manuscripts,  employed  it,  even  when 

810 


writing  with  small  letters,  and  often  they 
changed  the  uncial  form  of  the  sigma  from 
C  to  that  of  the 
Latin  S,  its  proper 
sound ;  moreover, 
the  ju'esence  of  the 
letter  h  in  this 
lower-case  abbrevi- 
ation led  English 
writers  of  the  ]\I id- 
die  Ages  to  spell 
the    Sacred    Name 


An  oariy  Cliristian  yi-ni 


Ihcsus.      The  use  of  the  forms  ihc  and  ihs 
was  by  no  means  confined  to  Latin  manu- 


A  lamp  from  tlie  Konian  catai'omlps,  third 
i-cntury— the  Chrisma  with  the  Alpha 
anil  (Jmeffa 

scripts,  but  was  emjiloyed  in  many  ways: 

in  England,  at  Parham  in  Sussex,  there  is 

a    leaden    font    of    1351 

which  bears  the  following 

legend:       "Ihc       Nazar" 

(Jesus     Nazarenus);     at 

Cheam,    in    Surrey,   there 

is    a    memorial    brass    of 

1420     on     which     is     en- 

eraved  a   heart    with   the 

inscription:  Ihc  e.ft  mitor     .hristiau  nns;  with 

t  thei  name    oi     the 

iiii-,   and  on   its  four  cor-     possessor 

ners    are    the    abbreviations:    "Ihc    Mcy" 

(Jesus  Mercy)  ;  at  St.  John's  College,  Cam- 


SACKKD    CIPHERS 


bridge,  tlierc  is  ;iii  English  priiyer-book  of 
1400  in  wliich  tlic  name  Jesus  is  often  writ- 


A  Christian  tjciii 


Cliristian  irt-ni.  A. 
I>.  325;  llic  niar- 
tyrehmi  of  :i 
>n\ut 


ten  ihc:  at  midday  uurc  lord  the  was  naijled 
on  the  roode  betTv'txt  tweye  thefts;  at  Cob- 
Imni  there  is  a  pre-Refornuition  palimpsest 
brass  wlierc  the  sigma  has  been  given  the 
form  of  the  Latin  S :  a  vested  priest  is  hold- 


Thf  tn'ttoiii  »t(  an  AgaiKic  j^Iass; 
third  century 

ing  a  chalice  and  wafer;  on  tlie  chalice  are 
the  words  '"Esto  in  Ihs"  and  on  tiie  wafer 
"Ihs ;"  at  Venice  on  the  movable  reredos  of 
the  high  altar  of  St.  Mark's,  accompanying 
tlie  figure  of  the  Saviour, 
are  tiie  abbreviations:  IHS 
XI'S  (Jesus  Christ);  and 
many  other  examples  could 
be  added  to  the  above  list 
from  every  part  of  mediae- 
val (  liristendom. 

The  use  of  the  IHS 
cipher  became  so  popular  that  it  ultimately 
took  precedence  of  the  Ciirisma  among  ec- 


A  Cornelian  seal 
witli  tlie  enrisuia 
mill  paint,  t  h  e 
syniti'il  of  vic- 
tory: 1th  century 


clesiologists  ;  the  sermons  ol'  St.  Bcrnardin 
of  Siena  no  doui)t  largely  eontriiiuted  to 
this  preferenee.  as  lie  was  in  tin-  habit,  on 
the  completion  of  liis  discourses,  to  exhibit 
to  his  audiences,  and  tliey  were  tliousands 
ill  luiiiiber.  a  board  bearing  lliis  eijiher  in- 


hA 


2^^ 


A 


V 


r 


Kreiu'h;  Mediaeval 


English;  15th  century 

scribed  in  letters  of  gold,  and.  at  the  same 
time,  distributing  among  the  people  small 
tablet.s  or  c-ards  jjearing  the  same  device. 

It  is  not  denied  that  the  IHS  may  in 
some  cases  stand  for  the  words  lesns  Horn- 
inum  Salvator,  but  when  so  intended,  usual- 
ly each  of  the  first  two  letters  is  followed  by 
a  period  sign:  I.  H.  S..  or  the  H  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  cross,  and  beneath  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  three  nails  of  the  crucifix- 
ion, as  may  be  seen  in  the  well  known  arms 
or  seal  of  the  Company  of  Jesus. 

The  foregoing  has  conclusivelv  demon- 
strated   the    Greek    origin    of    the    Sacred 


Knirlish;  l.ith  century  .Mi-dieaval  MS. 

Ciphers ;  and  that,  as  soon  as  their  symbolic 
value  was  recognized  by  the  early  Chris- 
tians, they  were  employed  extensively  by 
epitaphists    and    decorators;    until    in    the 


311 


TFIE  CIJAFTSMAN 


course  of  time,  by  constant  use  tliroughout 
the  world,  it  was  forgotten  that  they  were 
a  contraction  of  Greek  words,  and  thev  be- 


Aniis  of  the  C'onii'aiiy  of  Jt-sii-- 

cunie  mere  symbols,  which  conveyed  one  and 
tiie  same  meaning  to  Christians  of  evorv 
nation  and  language. 

The  Sacred  Ciphers  were  so  ])leasing  to 
the  subtile  minds  of  the  Oriental  Christians 
that  they  are  seldom  absent  from  Byzan- 
tine ecclesiastical  ornamental  sculpture. 
mosaics,  illuminations,  embroidery  and 
metal  work ;  moreo\er,  they  led  to  the  nfon- 
ogramatizing  of  many  secular  names, 
such  as  those  of  the  Emperor  Justinian  and 
his  wife  Theodora,  carved  u|)on  the  capitals 
of  the  great  columns  of  the  nave  of  the 
churcii  of  Sancta  So})hia  at  Constantinople. 


*  'ipInTs  iif  .Iij^t  ini;iti 

This  custom  of  using  secular  monograms, 
as  well  as  the  Sacred  Ciphers,  in  architect- 
ural decorations  passed  from  tlie  East  to 
the  West,  and  l)ecame  a  common  usage  at 
an  early  date  all  over  Eurojie.      The  one 

212 


best  known  of  these  Western  secular  ciphers 
is  that  of  Charlemagne. 

To-day  the  use  of  the  Sacred  Ciphers  is 
very  nnich  in  vogue  in  all  the  various  de- 
])artments  of  ecclesiastical  art,  but  too 
often    tlicv   are   wrontrlv   used,   and   all   bc- 


Tlir  I  }I  S  u-^imI  l.y  8t,  i;i-ni:ir<liii  of  Sit-iui 

cause  many  architects,  designers  and  deco- 
rators are  deeply  ignorant  of  the  first  prin- 
ci])les  of  ecclcsiology,  lience  do  not  fear  to 
walk  "uhere  angels  fear  to  tread." 


s 


er:\i()Xs  in  sun  dried 
ukicks.  irom  the  old 
spanish  missions.  by 
harvey  ellis. 


WiiKX  the  earnest  and  God-fearing  mis- 
sionaries from  S])ain  came  among  the  In- 
dians, in  what  was  then  INIexico,  the  least 
ex])ectetl  result  of  tiicir  embassy  was  that 
their  building  of  the  places  of  worship 
known  as  the  "jMissions"  would  in  the  far 
future  make  a  lasting  im])ression  on  mod- 
ern architecture  and  give  a  siin]>Ie,  straight- 
forward solution  of  an  architectural  prob- 
lem not  any  too  easy. 

These  Fathers,  while  remembering  the 
intricate    embroideries    of    the    Plateresque 


SU\    DKIKl)    BRICKS 


style  and  no  doubt  willing  to  pLTputuiitL'  it 
in  the  new  country,  were  inipedoil  by  the 
lack  of  skilled  labor,  tiie  inability  to  j>ru- 
curc  materials,  and  the  lack  of  trained 
jirchitccts ;  and  no  doubt  largely  due  to  the 
latter  fact,  were  able  to  produce  architec- 
ture. With  the  sun-dried  i)ricks,  the  aid  of 
peon  labor  and  the  absolute  fulfilment  of 
the  requirements,  they  produced  buildings 
that  for  positive  frankness  of  expression  of 
purpose,  have  never  been  equaled  in  the 
history  of  the  building  crafts.  The  exact 
adaptation  of  these  works  to  the  climatic 
conditions  and  the  functions  involved  make 
them  classics  equally  with  the  Parthenon 
and  its  Roman  successor,  the  I'aiithion. 
This  statement,  while  seeming  a  trifle  au- 
dacious and  in  conflict  with  accepted  tradi- 
tions, is  thought  to  be,  nevertheless,  suscep- 
tible of  demonstration.  It  is  deemed  by 
every  writer  on  the  subject  of  architecture, 
from  A'itruvius  to  Fergusson,  that  the  art. 
as  an  art,  consists  pri- 
marily in  accommodat- 
ing the  requireiiicnts ; 
and  in  addition  to  this. 
in  the  discreet  and 
tasteful  disposition  of 
the  structural  materials. 
Having  this  in  mind, 
the  dignity  of  these 
compositions,  the  ma- 
jestic simj)licity  and 
the  breadth  of  simple 
wall  surface  siioidd  be  a 
source  of  inspiration  to 
the  designer  of  monu- 
mental structures. 

There  is  no  doul)t 
that  the  restrictions  im- 
posed   by    the    materials 


enqiloyed  are  I  lie  salvation  of  tiiese  build- 
ings, as  in  one  or  two  instances  where  there 
has  been  an  ell'ort,  «illioul  success,  to  deco- 
rate these  buildings  externally,  the  failure 
has  been  so  lanuiitable  that  there  is  much 
cause  for  gratification  that  skilled  work- 
men were  scarce  in  Old  .Mexico.  The  longf, 
beautiful  arcades  and  cloisters  of  these 
^lissions  have  all  the  simplicity  and  im- 
pressiveness  of  the  lloman  acjtieduct.  A 
conspicuous  example  of  this  is  to  be  found 
in  the  ^lission  of  La  Pnrisinia  Conception, 
which, with  its  crude  workmanshij)  and  sun- 
dried  brick,  covered  with  « liili-u  ash,  is,  or 
should  i)e,  a  veritable  sermon  to  the  men 
who  are  disfiguring  our  cities  with  more  or 
less  successfully  warmed-over  j)rojects  from 
the  publications  of  the  "Intime  Club," 
which  is  presumed  to  express  the  aims,  as- 
pirations and  works  of  the  Ecole  des  Beaux 
Arts. 

While    in    a    tentative    way    efforts    have 


,\|i..>iori  Sun  l,ui>  l{i--y 


.'13 


*^     «  * 


^^  1 


a. 


o 
u 


Cm 

o 


S14 


tis 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Jji'eli  made  to  (lesif;'ii  with 
the  same  ,s])irit  that  iiit'oniis 
these  stnu'tures,  ouinjL;;  to 
over-sopliisticatioii.  the  suc- 
cess achieved  ha-~  oiilv  Ijeeii 
■estimated.  In  some  instances, 
particularly  in  the  neig-hhor- 
hood  of  Los  An^i'i'les,  resi- 
dences and  other  sti"uctui'es 
havi'  been  huilt  that  possess 
nuich  of  the  gracious  charm 
■of  tlie  old  works. 

I'lie  solution  of  tlie  prolj- 
lem     of     domestic     architec- 
ture    based     upon,     hut     in     no     sense     in 
Servile   imitation   of,   the  old   S])anish   type, 
is  to  be  found  in  the  extremely  personal  and 
interesting  creations  of  some  of  the  younger 


i'ala  I'.ilfry 


.Mivsiiin  ..f  Smii  (ialuii'l 

ai'chitects  of  Chicago,  who  are  really  giving 
lione>t  and  purposeful  expression  of  art  as 
a])plied  to  domestic  engineering.  It  is 
curious  in  this  instance  to  note  how  the 
s])irit  of  tlie  Renascence,  as  expressed  bv 
these  Fathers  of  the  missions,  and  combined 
with  the  curiously  Gothic  trend  of  imagina- 
tion, has  produced  the  splendid  and  appro- 
]iriate  art  of  Louis  Sidlivan,  who  since  these 
Mission  Fathers,  seems  to  be  one  of  the  few 
men  in  tlie  United  States,  at  all  events,  who 
have  comprehended  the  meaning  of  the  word 
architecture,  or  in  other  words,  who  have 
forgotten  the  schools  and  become  architects 
of  equal  ability  with  the  good  Franciscan 
Father  Junij)ero  Serra.  the  moving  spirit  in 
the  designing  and  construction  of  the  mis- 
sions. 

The  Spanish  clerical  architects  brought 
with  them  from  their  fatherland  the  tradi- 
tions of  a  building  art  suited  to  the  climatic 
conditions  and  the  face  of  their  adopted 
country.  Therefore,  their  works,  although 
strongly  reminiscent,  arose  strong;  and  vital. 
Even  to-day  they  have  lost  nothing  of  their 
force,  and  are  worthy  of  the  study  of  our 
vouno-  architi'cts. 


-21  e 


I 


SILVEUS.MITIIS    AHT 


THE       SlI.MlKS.Mrril'S      ART: 
THE    THlH'l'EENTH.    lOlR- 
TEEXTH  AM)  FH-TEENTH 
CENTnUES.         15Y         JEAN 
SCHOPEER.     TRANSLATED    ERO.M 
THE     FRENCH     BY     IRENE     SAR- 
GENT. 

Thk  Editors  of  The  Cuaftsmax  he- 
gaud  THEMSELVES  AS  PECLLIAKLY  FOUTI"- 
XATE  IX  BEING  ABLE  TO  OFFER  TO  THEIK 
READERS  THE  EXTENDED  HISTORY  OF  THE 
silversmith's  art  IX  ErROI'E,  WITH  SPE- 
CIAL REFERENCE  TO  FrAXCE,  WRITTEX  BY 
THE     DLSTINCriSHED     PARISIAN     CRITIC,     Mr. 

Jeax  Schopfer.  The  series  begax  in 
THE  November  issue  with  a  profusely 
illustrated  review  of  the  beautiful 
ecclesiastical  work  of  the  twelfth 
century.  The  present  i'aper,  the 
second  of  the  proposed  four,  is  of  evex 
deeper  ixterest  than  the  first  ;  since 
it  deals  with  a  great  architectural 
period,  the  thirteenth  century,  which 
influenced  to  the  further.\nce  of 
strength  and  beauty.  the  ad.junct  and 
lesser  arts.  tlie  third  and  fourth 
division's  of  the  subject,  yet  to  be  pub- 
lished, treat  respectively  the  silver- 
smith's art  in  the  sixteenth,  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  cextl'ries,  and 
the  work  of  our  own  time. 

The  st.ate.ments  of  M.  Schopfer,  it 
IS  needless  to  say,  are  most  authorita- 
tive.    The  INFORM.A.TION  THUS  collated 

BY     HIM     has     hitherto     EXISTED,     HIDDE.V 

and  fragmentary,  in  rare  and  costly 
books.     His  treatment  of  the  subject 

IS  characterized  by  the  GRACE,  ACCU- 
KACY  AND  delicacy  WHICH  ARE  ATTAINED 
ONLY  BY  LONG  AND  CAREFUL  STUDIES  PIR- 
S0ED     IN      A      SYMPATHETIC      E.N  VIKON.M  ENT, 


AND  WITH  A  PURPOSE  UUITE  APART  FROM 
THAT  WHICH  ANI.MATKS  Till'.  HASTILY 
FOIt.MKl)  ART  CUrrlC  WHOSK  llUniKST  AI.M  IS 
FIXAXCLAL  SUCCESS. 

Ix    REXDERING    M.     ScHOPFKlt's    STUDIES 

INTO   English,   the  translator    keenly 

RKlUtETS  THE  NECESSARY  LOSS  OF  SOME  I'Olt- 
TION  OF  THE  VERBAL  BEAUTY  OF  THE  ORIG- 
INAL, .\S  -ALSO  THE  ABSENCE  OF  AN  ENGLISH 
EQUIV.ALENT  FOR  THE  FrENCH  WORD 
OHFEVh'Kin  h:.  WHICH,  ALTHOUGH  DERIVED 
FROM  THE  LATIN  Al'UIS  ((;()|.I))  AND  F M' K f 
(to  .make),  APPLIES  EQUALLY  TO  WORK  IN- 
GOLD  AND  IN  SlI.VKlt.  AND  AVOIDS  THE  PARA- 
PHRASE WHICH  A  TltANSLATOU  IS  FORCED  TO 
EMPLOY. 

A  S  we  liavc  alnadv  iiulicatid  in  our  pre- 
/-%  ceding  article,  tlie  art  of  tlic  worker 
in  tlie  precious  metals  changes  with 
the  thirteenth  century :  it  can  not  exist  side 
hy  side  with  its  o])ulcnt  and  imposing  neigh- 
bor, architecture,  witliout  borrowing  from 
it. 

Let  us  examine  tiie  ciiaracteristics  of  the 
tiiirteeiitli  century  in  the  domain  of  art. 
We  find  first  the  exi)ansion  of  pointed 
(Gothic)  architecture,  whicli  dates  from  the 
first  half  of  the  twelfth  century.  At  this 
))eri()d,  tlu'oughout  France,  there  arose 
ciuirches  and  cathedrals  constructed  accord- 
ing to  the  new  formula.  Secondly,  we  find 
the  complete,  perfected  development  of 
ornamental  statuary.  Here,  again,  tlic 
j)oiiit  of  departure  is  the  twelfth  century. 
The  portals  of  the  cathedrals  of  ]\Ioissac, 
of  \'ezelay,  of  Autun,  show  the  direction 
which  the  thirteenth  century  was  destined 
to  follow.  Then,  later,  we  have  tlie  incom- 
parable masterpieces  of  statuary  offered  by 
Notri'  Dame,   Paris,  and  bv   tiie  cathedrals 


ai7 


THE  CRAl  rSMAN 


of  Reims, 
We  find 


Amiens,   Bourges  and  Ciiartres. 
the   same   characteristics   in   tlie 


I.    Kc-li'iuary  i 


<  harrous,  France 


art  iif  the  silversmith.  It  becomes  archi- 
tectural in  the  sense  that  it  copies  more 
aceiiratelv  churches  and  chapels.  Further- 
more, statuary,  properly  speaking, — that 
is,  the  representation  of  the  human  form 
and  face, — acquires  a  new  and  considerable 
iin])ortance.  The  art  of  the  worker  in  the 
precious  metals  becomes,  as  it  were,  an  ex- 
tension of  sculpture.  It  produces  real  mas- 
terpieces whicli,  with  equal  justice,  can  be 
included  in  the  history  of  the  silversmith's 
art  and  in  that  of  sculpture.  As  an  exam- 
ple, among  the  masterpieces  may  be  cited 
ll;e  silver  figure  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  from 
the  treas\u-y  of  Saint  Denis,  which  is  now 
preserved  in  the  Louvre. 

Together  with  the  representation  of  the 
human  figure,  that  of  the  animal  becomes 
frequent.         We   no   longer   meet    beautiful 
works  of  pi.n-e  metal-work,  like  the  cro.ss  of 
(  lairmarais  at  Saint-Omer,  the  reliquary  of 
Har-sur-Aube,or  the  reliquary  of  Charroux, 
in  which  silver  scroll-  and  filigree-work  sur- 
round incrusted  precious  stones,  thus  form- 
in--  a  whole  of  extreme  decorative  riclmess. 
.\nother   relicpiary    from   Charroux,   but 
one  of  a  later  century,  shows  the  advance 
made  by  the  silversmitirs  art,  as  well  as  its 
new    tendencies.      It    is   a   beautiful   object, 
lii;t    one    ([uite    different    from    the    works 
Avliieli   we  have  already  studied.      Set  upon 
:i   highly   decorated  base,  a  circular  chapel 
rises,    having    small    towers    and    crocketed 
gables    which    are    supported    upon    small, 
slender   colunms.  as   we  find  this  detail  in 
the  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  Paris.      Four 
statuettes  of  saints  or  m<mks.  in  picturesque 
attitude,  support  a  little  edifice  containing 
the  relics.      The  piece,  therefore,  partakes 
at  once  of  both  architecture  and  sculpture. 
.\nd  if  our  readt'rs  will  refer  to  our  preced- 


21S 


SlI.VKHSMITirS    ART 


ing  article,  iuid  conipnro  tliis  work  of  the 
thirteentli  ceiiturv  with  the  twclftli  ointurv 
reliquary  which  we  have  tiiere  represented, 
the  objects  themselves  will  explain  more 
clearlj-  then  pages  of  commentary  could  do, 
the  distinctive  taste  and  style  of  eacli  period. 

If  it  he  j)ermittcd  to  the  historian  to  jiass 
jiido-nient,  I  must  hasten  to  add  that  the 
three  centuries  about  to  he  reviewed  in  the 
present  article  possess  a  liberty,  an  imag- 
inative quality,  a  richness  of  invention 
which  are  surprising,  and  that  the  critic 
placed  in  presence  of  the  works  of  this 
j)oriod.  finds  them  so  charming,  so  graceful 
and  so  delicately  executed,  that  he  accepts 
them  witiiout  reservation. 

These  works,  like  those  previously  exam- 
ined, belong  to  the  religious  department  of 
the  silversmith's  art.  The  works  of  the 
secular  division  have  not  been  ,ibl(>  to  resist 
the  political  and  economic  vicissitudes  of 
five  centuries.  It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted 
that  nothing  has  been  preserved  of  tlic  col- 
lections of  Charles  P'ifth.  or  of  tlie  i-ich 
treasures  of  his  brother,  the  duke  of  An  jou  ; 
that  the  Swiss,  after  the  battles  of  :Morat 
and  (Irandson,  let  [xrish  the  superl)  objects 
in  gold  and  silver  work  belonging  to  Charles 
the  Bold,  duke  of  Burgundy,  the  richest 
prince  of  his  time  in  entire  Eurojie.  Of  all 
these  beautiful  creations  nothing  remains. 
For  silver  and  gold  objects  have  always  been 
threatened  with  sudden  destruction,  since, 
independently  of  their  artistic  worth,  they 
possess  an  intrinsic  value  estimated  in 
weight,  which  is  immediately  realizable. 
Trom  this  fact  it  resulted  that  a  prince 
whose  purse  was  empty,  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  of  providing  himself  with 
money,  by  causing  his  silver  ])late  to  be 
melted.        We    .shall    witness    later,    under 


Louis  XI\. 
(Ir>l  ruct  ioii> 
"  ilh  meagre  result 


.ind    Louis     X\'.,    the    stupid 
o    which    tluse    princes    resort 


II.    The  Sniiison  Ri-lii|iiar.v:    traii^ilioiiiil   -lylr 
I'litlii'ilriil  of  Uiiiiis.  I'riii 


.'19 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


III.     ]'liii]i-h  rili.iuary  in  I.. nil  nl'  n  tiiptyrli  lioiii  tin-  Aliliry  ..f  Kl.intri-:   Ki.llisi'liilil  (■(.lUifii.ii,  L.mvn-,  P.-iris 

In  tliu  ]\Ii(l(llc  At^vs  coin  was  rare.      Thi'  to  tlu'sc  works,  it  was  necessarv  for  gold  and' 

fortuiU'  of  a   princL',  of  a   nohlu.  of  a   rich  siKir    to    possess    an    absolute    value    which 

merchant,    often    consisted    lart;ilv     in    his  could   not   'or  rnoditied   1)V   the  smiths  theni- 

plate.      If  li!.' had  snrjihis  money,  he  ordered  selves.      If  these   latter   had   i)een   left    free- 

the  execution  of  a  sihrr  taiile  service,  m-  an  to   act,   thev    would   shortly    have   produced 

ewer.      If  he  needed  monev.  he  ordered  tile  works   in  which  the  proportion  of  silver  or 


meltiiii;'  of   certain    pieces   chosen    from   the 
ornaments    of    his    dressers:    makiiiu'    such 


i;'old    would    have    been    insignificant.      But 
the  very  vigorous  statutes  which  governed' 


choice  without    i-egard  to  the  ai'tistic  value  the    guild    of    the    gold-    and    silversmiths 

of     the     ohiects     destined     to     destruction.  (which     statiites     we     shall     treat     later), 

'I'herefore,  when  e\  il  times  came,  and  thev  ])rt)vided    that     the    workers    were    obliged 

came  often,  the  tn-asures  of  the  gold-  an<l  always   to   use   the   purest   quality   of   gold 

silversmith's  art  disa])peai-ed.  and   silver.      And   these   strict   measures   of 

To  ensure  a  standard. and  unv.ariahle  \alue  superxision      were     enacted      in     order     to- 

220 


I\.      \'ir;rin  ;md  rliild   in   silvi-r  n jf'nis.^(  ;   Ltuivrt-,    I*aris 


2n 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


leave  no  room  for  the  least  possible  fraud. 
These  facts  show  the  reason  why  mediae- 
val work  in  the  precious  metals  designed  for 
secular  uses  has  practically  disappeared. 
We  have,  therefore,  to  confine  our  examina- 
tion to  objects  devoted  to  religious  service. 
But  even  of  these  many  examples  have 
failed  to  escape  the  ravages  of  time  and  of 
enemies.  The  Revolution,  indeed,  tlestroyed 
a  certain  number  of  pieces.  But  it  must  be 
confessed  that  the  kings  were  infinitely  more 
destructive  than  the  revolutionary  spirits, 
and  that  even  under  the  most  pious  rulers, 
gold  and  silver  objects  devoted  to  religious 
uses  were  not  respected  wjien  tlie  need  of 
money  grew  insistent.  When  Richai'd 
C'oeur  de  Lion  had  been  captured  by  the 
Saracens,    his    ransom    was    placed    at    one 


\'I.     I'yi vsional  i-riiss 

iiundred  fifty,  or  two  hundred  thousand 
marks  silver,  and  the  rich  abbeys  knew  to 
their  sorrow  what  sacrifice  of  tiieir  treasures 
was  occasioned  by  this  misfortune.  When 
Saint  Louis  was  made  prisoner  during  his 
Crusade,  no  less  than  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand besants  of  golil  were  necessary  to  re- 
lease him  from  the  hands  of  the  heathen. 
Such  ransoms  were  disastrous  for  the  gold 
and  silver  work  existing  in  both  France  and 
England. 

Nevertheless,  we  have  remaining  a  consid- 
erable number  of  specimens  of  each  of  the 
three  centuries  with  which  we  are  now  to 
deal. 

We  have  already  mentioned  the  reliquary 
of  Charroux,  a  most  characteristic  work  of 
the  thirteenth  century.  Our  second  illus- 
tration is  the  so-called  reliquary  of  Samson, 
preserved  in  the  Cathedral  of  Reims.  This 
example,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  work  of  the 


SILVKRSMITirs    AIM' 


angels.  Ih-rc.  as  I  liavc  alreadj'  observed, 
the  work  of  (lie  silversmitli  resembles  that 
of"  tiie  sculptor.  'J"ho  qualities  of  the  sculp- 
tor were  required  for  the  chiseling  of  these 
exquisite  figures.  The  style  of  the  dra- 
peries is  excellent,  worthy  of  the  time,  wliicll 
is  a  period  of  culmination.  The  ornament 
is  of  extreme  richness,  and  the  object  as  a 
«  hole  in  one  of  I  he  mediaeval  masterpieces  of 
the  goldsmith's  art. 

From  this  time  onward  a  great  impor- 
tance was  given  to  shrines  and  reliciuarles. 
'I'he^'  became  monuments  in  miniaturi'. 
Around  the  central  portion  containing  the 
relics,  there  appeared  scenes  from  the  life  of 
the  .saint  so  honored,  and  in  these  scenes  the 
figures  were  executed  in  hitjh  relief.      We 


\'l  ti,     i*ruct'ssj»»iial  cross. 

transition  period,  in  wliich  we  recognize  the 
greater  number  of  the  characteristics  of  the 
twelfth  century :  incrusted  stones,  filigree, 
and  applied  ornaments  in  silver.  It  has  a 
foothold  in  both  centuries,  the  stronger  be- 
ing in  the  twelfth. 

The  reliquary  in  the  form  of  a  triptych, 
originally  from  the  Abbey  of  Floreffe  and 
now  belonging  to  the  Rothschild  collection 
in  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre,  is,  on  the 
contrary,  an  excellent  and  most  important 
example  of  the  thirteenth  century  (Plate 
III).  It  is  of  Flemish  workmanship,  and, 
without  doubt,  the  most  significant  produc- 
tion of  the  time  and  place.  Two  angels 
support  the  cross.  The  wings  of  tlie  trip- 
tych show  scenes  from  tlie  life  of  Christ: 
the  Crucifixion,  the  Descent  from  the  Cross, 
the    Holy    Women,    other    personages    and 


\"ii.    i-i 


.'23 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


liiive  (Irscrijitions  of  lari^c  sliriiu's   luadr  to  Hie     clxic     bodies.      The     \'irgiu     in     silver 

receive  tlie  relies  of  Saint  Louis,  at  tiie  end  npo/i-ssr  formerly  l)el<)n<;-ini;-  to  the  treasury 

of  the  thirteenth  and  the  beginning  of  tlie  of  the  Abbey  of  Saint  Denis  and  now  in  the 

fourteenth  centurv.      They  were  ornament-  Museum  of  the  Louvre   (Plate  IX.),  shows 

ed  with  vi'rv  numerous  figures  of  saints  and  at  onee  the  jierfeetion  of  workmanship  and 
njiostles,     as     well     as     of     the     kings     and 


the  excjuisite  development  wliieh  the  plastic 
sentiment  attained  in  th.e  Middle  Ages.  JJut 
one  faet  regarding  the  piece  must  Ije  con- 
fessed. There  is  no  reason  uhv  this  work 
should  be   in   silver,   rather  than    in   marble 


princessses  who  weri'  the  donors  of  tlu'se 
marvellous  works  of  art.  Portraiture  en- 
tered into  met.-d  work  .iiid  into  sculpture  at 
the  same  time.  The  (Mrjiorat ion  of  the  gold- 
and  sibersmiths  was  among  the  strongest  of      and  ivory.      That   is:  it   is  a  work  of  pure 

sculpture.  15ut  owing  to  the 
m.itrrial  in  which  it  is  execut- 
ed, we  have  the  right  to  treat 
it  here,  and  to  rank  it  among 
the  mastt'rpieces  of  the  metal 
worker's   art. 

It  belongs  to  the  beginning 
of  the  fourteenth  centlU'V. 
We  ha\e  its  exact  date.  It 
w.-is  I'xecuted  in  1;).'}9.  at  the 
command  of  the  queen.  Jeanne 
d'Evreux.  Without  the  date. 
the  stvle  alone  would  sutlice  to 
fix  the  e])och  of  the  work.  It 
belongs  to  the  fo'irteenth 
centurv  b\'  the  slight  svm- 
metrv  caused  bv  the  jirojec- 
tion  of  one  liij)  of  the  ^'irgin; 
iiy  the  caressing  and  charm- 
ing gesture  of  the  Clirist- 
cliild  who  lays  ids  hand  upon 
the  lips  of  his  mother;  by  the 
l<'iigth  of  the  draperies,  of 
which  the  folds  ;ire  broken  at 
the  ground-line:  by  the  slight 
inclination  of  the  Virgin's 
head:  all  characteristic  of  the 
fourteenth  centurv  and  of 
this  period  alone.  But  the 
object  has  neither  the  affecta- 


SILN'KRSMITHS    AKT 


tioii  nor  tlio  complexity,  nor  n  curtiiiii 
ciryiie-ss  that  one  sees  too  often  arise  in 
the  works  of  this  time.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  preserves  tlie  perfect  distinction 
of  hue,  tlie  pure  grace,  the  simplicit3',  which 
impart  to  tlie  works  of  this  period  an  im- 
{)erisiial)le  aroma.  The  face  of  the  Virgin, 
ra<Hant  with  tender  goodness,  is  that  of  a 
motlier  of  the  period.  It  was  among  the 
])('()l)le  that  the  sculptor  found  his  )iiodels. 
It  was  in  the  depths  of  the  sentiments  which 
all  shared  and  which  made  of  Europe  a 
whole  constituting  what  was  named  Christ- 
endom that  the  artist  souglit  liis  ins])iration. 
lie  had  no  desire  to  appropriate  to  himself 
beauty  foreign  and  dead.  The 
dream  of  restoring  antiquity, 
— a  deceptive  dream  which 
the  Renascence  was  to  j)ur- 
sue, — had  not  as  yet  arisen. 
Tiiere  was  a  secret  harmony 
Ijetween  the  artists  and  those 
for  whom  he  wrouglit.  The 
former  found  in  themselves  all 
tliat  was  sure  to  please  the 
])eoj)le.  Tliere  was  no  effort, 
no  ))edantry.  no  archaism. 
As  \'iollet-le-Duc  has  said, 
the  work.s  of  that  period 
looked  neither  backward  nor 
forward.  All  lasting  works 
of  art,  whether  antique  and 
Greek,  whether  mediaeval,  or 
modern, have  alwa3^s  addressed 
themselves  to  the  present  times 
whicii  produce  them. 

The  sj)ecial  characteristic 
of  the  statuette  of  the  Virgin 
under  consideration,  the  char- 
acteristic which  makes  it  rele- 
vant to  our  present  subject,  is 


tlie  materi.d  in  which  It  is  wrought.  'I'his 
material  sihir — enabled  the  artist  to  give 
an  excjuislte  finish  to  the  work  :  the  draperies 
are  tinely  sculptured  in  concave  lines,  the 
face  and  the  hair  arc  rendered  witii  extreme 
delicacy,  and  if  we  were  to  compare  this 
figure  with  an  ivory  \irgin  of  the  same 
period,  the  differences  in  execution,  result- 
ing from  file  difference  in  materi.il.  would 
be  \('ry  mai'ked  in  favor  of  the  silver  stat- 
uette. 

I''()llowing,  we  have  a  series  of  crosses 
(I'lat.s  v..  VI.  and  \II.).  The  treasuries 
of  our  c.ithedrals  and  churches  still  pos.sess 
a    considerable    number    of    these    objects 


l.\.     (M-nimli   \\l?i»-  liirikani:    M  i|..tiini   I'l    l.n 


■325 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


X.    Gt.-rniaji  jiii::  Museinu  of  i;..^l;ii' 


wliic'li  iiiiglit  afford  exci'lk'iit  models  for  ec- 
clesiastical metal  work  in  our  own  time.  We 
find  tliere  different  methods  of  treatment. 
But  the  favorite  process  of  all  was  that 
of  liammering  the  metal  over  a  matrix 
(rt'puiissc).  The  workshops  of  the  Middle 
Ages  kept  thus  matrices  of  a  certain  numher 
of  models  for  the  more  usual  objects:  vases, 
cups,  basins,  ewers.  The  silver  in  a  thin 
sheet  was  hammered  (repousse)  over  the 
hard  form  ;  then,  it  was  further  worked  with 
the  chisel  and  the  graving-tool.  Retouch- 
ing and  finishing  at  this  time  were  very 
important.  By  these  means  the  workman 
gave  to  the  object  a  personal  character, 
which,  in  a  measure,  re-created  it.  As  I 
have  previously  said,  the  expenditure  of 
time  was  not  considered  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
In  this  respect  there  was  no  exercise  of 
econoni}'. 

If  thus  the  art  of  the  worker  in  precious 
metals  allied  itself  on  the  one  hand  with 
sculpture,  it  did  nut  the  less  preserve  its  own 
domain.  VVe  illustrate,  as  an  example  of 
purely  decorative  metal  work  (Plate  VIII.), 
a  superb  belt  and  buckle  of  German  origin, 
which  date  from  the  end  of  the  fourteenth 
century.  Throughout  the  Middle  Ages, 
Germany  excelled  in  metal  work,  and  the 
history  of  iironze  in  ])articu!ar  can  not  be 
written  without  involving  the  special  study 
of  the  German  masterpieces. 

Another  specimen  of  German  workman- 
shij)  (Plate  IX)  is  of  nuich  later  origin, 
since  it  belongs  to  the  sixteenth  century. 
15ut  in  Germany  the  line  of  demarcation  be- 
tween the  ]\Iiddle  Ages  and  the  llenascence 
is  much  less  sharply  defined  than  in  France 
and  in  Italy.  Throughout  the  sixteenth, 
and  even  during  the  seventeenth  century, 
the  mediaeval  series  of  obiects  for  ordinarv 


SIL\'KRSMITirS    ART 


XI.     Friiuh  cruet:  Hotel  Oicu.  Keinis 

uses  were  continued.  The  love  of  the  old 
forms  w;is  jjreservcd.  Tlie  wine  tankard 
here  reproduced,  which  exists  in  tlie  Mu- 
seum of  Lubeck,  shows  a  singular  mingling 
of  Teutonic  thought,  mediaeval  taste,  and 
free  imagination,  united  with  certain  mem- 
ories of  the  antique,  found  in  the  scrolls  of 
foliage  encircling  the  expansion  of  tiie  cup. 
With  the  exception  of  this  ornament,  the 
composition  as  a  whole  and  the  decorative 
details  are  altogether  in  the  style  of  the 
Middle  Ages:  possessing  that  richness  and 
exuberance  which  sometimes,  even  often,  in 
German  works,  injure  the  principal  lines 
and  mar  the  precision  of  the  swell. 

Tlie  (icrinan  jug  of  the  Museum  of  Gos- 
lar  (Plate  X.)  has  greater  refinement.  The 
open-work  decoration  is  of  extreme  deli- 
cacy ;  figures  mingle  with  foliage,  and  be- 
neath the  little  spires  that  crown  the  piece, 
a  bold  rider  is  mounted  upon  a  prancing 
horse.     The  handle  of  the  jug  is  formed  by 


a  dragon  witii  yawning  tliroat.  The  beak 
of  the  jug  is  iilso  composed  of  a  fantastic 
animal.  Tlic  dragon,  as  is  «cll  known, 
I)layed  a  most  important  part  in  the  tleco- 
rativc  art  of  the  Middle  Ages,  beginning 
with  the  earliest  times  of  that  period.  In 
the  popular  imagination,  it  had  a  real,  ani- 
mate existence.  It  appears  in  works  of  the 
plastic  arts,  strong,  muscular,  scaled  and 
frightful.  In  modern  art,  it  has  become 
lymphatic  and  sluggish.  It  swells  and 
{)ants,  but  it  can  no  longer  terrify.  In  the 
j)l;istic  sense  it  has  lost  all  force,  all  energy. 
We  no  longer  believe  in  the  evil  powers  and 
the  existence  of  fantastic  animal  types,  and 
the  abortive  attempts  of  contemporary  dec- 
(H'ative  art  will  not  renew  in  us  the  terrors 
which  have  faded  from  our  minds. 


[  -V.  w 


XII.     Upliqiinry  cuntainine  u  piirtiiiii  of  llii'  nriiis 
a  .sttini:  Saiiil  I'l'tiT'.t  ('liurcli,  Varzy,  Kraiiee 


2^7 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Tliori)ii^lilv  Fri'iicii,  restrained  and  witli- 
oiit  onianii'iit.  we  (ind  tlic  cruet  wliieli  is  pre- 
served in  the  chapel  of  the  Hotel  Dicu,  at 
Reims  ( Plate  XI).  It  possesses  a  charniiny 
simplicity  of  form  and  a  rare  orace  of  flex- 
ible line.  As  we  examine  it,  we  ren'ret  that 
our  modern  coffee-pots  do  not  jjossess  the 
same  ])leaslii<v  contours. 

The  Middle  A^-es  believed  in  saints  and 
relics.      There   were    few    churches    witlioiit 


:'^j.. 


Xlll      ricni-li  n-lii|uiir.v;  Clu'rcli  at  Aiiribeiui 


ntury 


the  honored  ])ossession  of  miracle-working- 
i-cmembrances  of  holy  personages.  To  en- 
sure tlieir  ])reservation  the  clergy  and  ]ieo- 
|)le  commissioned  the  workers  in  precious 
metals  to  execute  beautiful  rcccjjtacles,  and 
thus  the  religious  fervor  of  Christians  has 
handed  down  to  us  exquisite  examples  of  tlie 


2--'S 


SIL^'Kus^nTI^s  art 


silversniitlvs  skill,  .\iiil  in  no  otlicr  <lL])!irt- 
inent  of  art  do  we  find  tlio  then  provailing 
liberty  of  invention  better  instanced  tiian  in 
tiiesc  same  objects.  A  case  in  point  resides 
in  the  reliquary  arms  (Plate  XII),  con- 
taine<l  in  Saint  Peter's  chiircli  at  Varzv.  A 
considi'i'able  ninnber  of  such  oljjects,  sim- 
ilar in  form,  are  still  extant.  As  mig-ht  bo 
supposed,  they  contain  a  jxirtion  of  the 
arms  of  a  saint.  Those  shown  in  our  illus- 
tration date  from  the  thirteenth  century, 
and  preserve,  to  a  certain  degree,  the  ap- 
jjcarance  of  works  of  the  preceding  century. 
We  find  here  precious  stones  incrusted  and 
uncut,  as  we  have  so  often  seen  them,  and, 
upon  the  ri<>ht  arm  we  see  scrolls  of  filigree 
work.  The  gesture  of  the  hand  extended  in 
benediction  is  dignified  and  imposing. 

The  Church  of  Aurihcau  lias  preserved  a 
reli(ji.!arv  of  the  beginning  of  tlie  fourteenth 
century,  which  is  of  a  beautiful,  j)urc  style 
(Plate  XIII).  The  ba.se  is  bold  and  admir- 
able. Here  attention  should  be  directed  to 
the  fine  relief  shown  in  the  moldings  decor- 
ating mediaeval  works.  The  concaves  are 
deep,  and  tlio  convex  portions  well  accent- 
uate<l.  ^Vith  these  the  moldings  uj)i)n 
modern  works  offer  a  contrast  to  their  own 
detriment.  They  are  uniformly  flat.  We 
have  lost  the  taste  for  the  pronounced  jiro- 
files  distinguishing  the  structural  ])roduc- 
tions  of  the  ^liddle  Ages.  And  tliis  is  a 
general  characteristic  observed  not  alone  in 
our  metal  work,  but  also  in  our  furniture, 
.md  in  the  decoration  of  stone,  plaster  and 
wood.  In  mediaeval  times,  and  down  to  the 
middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  crafts- 
men hanflled  their  material  vigorously. 
Shadows  are  strong  and  accents  vigorous. 

The  same  features  are  shown  in  the  mon- 
strance and  the  chalice  of  the   church   of 


Saint  Sauveur  (I'late  Xl\.);  the  first  of 
which  belongs  to  liie  fourteenth,  and  the 
second  to  the  thirteenth  centurv.  The 
chalice  is  remarkable  by  the  clear  distinc- 
tion of  its  parts,  by  its  elegance  of  contour 
.111(1  by  the  j)iii'ity  of  the  composition  as  a 
whole.      Between   this  chalice  and  the  cups 


.\l\'  ./.     Fiviu-lc  .-hali. 


Iliirh-<-iiUi  mitury 


iiKinufacturcd  by  modern  silversmiths  for 
))rizes  in  athletic  contests  an  instructive 
comparison  might  be  instituted. 

To  terminate  this  rai)id  review  of  the 
silversmitlrs  art  in  the  Middle  Ages  we 
shall  illustrate  three  important  works,  re- 
sjiectively  of  the  thirteenth,  fourteenth  and 

009 


XV.     Shrine  of  Saint  Taurin   :  thirtccntli  century;  Evreux,   France 


230 


SII.\  KHS.MlTirS    ART 


i  fif'teentli  century,  which  epitomi/o  to  some 
degree  tlie  tendencies  of  art  during  these 
three  inijxn'tant  centuries. 

Tlie  first  of  these  is  the  celebrated  slirine 
of  Saint  Taurin.  at  Evreux  (Plate  X\'.). 
It  is  in  the  most  ornate,  richest  and  most 
sumptuous  style  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  maker  of  this  beau- 
tiful piece  had  wished  to  of^'cr  an  example 
of  the  various  methods  of  treatment  in 
which  the  silversmiths  of  that  period  ox- 
celled.  The  general  plan  is  that  of  a 
church,  with  great  doors,  buttresses  sur- 
mounted by  finely  composed  pinnacles,  and 
a  spire.  \Vc  find  here  again  the  incrusted 
stones,  the  filigree  scroll-work  of  the  twelfth 
century  ;  also,  silver  placqiies.  engraved  and 
in  niello  work,  delicate  leaves  applied  to  the 
background,  in  fact,  a  whole  sturdy,  liglit 
and  graceful  system  of  plant-forms  which 
bloom  upon  the  arches  and  twine  about  the 
great  volutes,  like  convolvuli  around  a 
branch.  Finally,  as  prescribed  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  the  shrine  is  completed  by 
figures  in  the  round  and  by  bas-reliefs  rep- 
resenting the  saint  and  scenes  from  his  life. 
Here,  all  tiiat  is  statuesque  is  excellent,  witli 
no  lingering  trace  of  awkwardness  or  inex- 
perience, and  shows  a  truly  perfected  style. 
This  shrine  is  indeed  a  finished  example, 
marking  the  culminating  point  attained 
by  the  silversmith's  art  in  the  thirteenth 
century. 

The  relicjuary  of  Sainte  Aldegonde  (Plate 
XVI.),  at  ^laubeuge,  is  a  charming  work 
of  the  fourteenth  century.  It  is  a  marvel 
of  grace  and  elegance,  and  very  character- 
istic of  the  art  of  this  period.  It  has  not 
the  distinction  and  dignity  of  the  shrine  of 
Saint  Taurin.  It  is  tall  and  slender,  light, 
delicate.      The  two  angels  that  support  the 


rcliciuary  j)ro])er  are  attract ivi'  and  typical 
figures.  Their  heavy  vestnunts  f.iij  in 
rlongated  folds  over  their  feet ;  thev  are 
iialf  kneeling,  and  tiieir  bodies  ajipear  tense, 
sujjple  and  sinewy.  'I'iiis  piece  is  a  lovely 
flower  of  the  art  of  the  ^liddle  Ages. 

The  last  example  is  a  monstrance  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  found  in  the  Museum  of 
the  Louvre  (Plate  XVII.).  It  is  certainly 
less  perfect  and  complete  than  the  two  pre- 
ceding works.  But  it  is  still  an  excellent 
architectural  composition.  It  has  beside  the 
merit  of  recalling  to  us,  as  we  are  .ibout  to 
leave  the  three  centuries  which  we  have 
studied  in  our  jjresent  article,  one  of  the 
characteristics  of  mediaeval  art  which  I  in- 
dicated at  the  beginning  of  our  study:  that 
is,  the  loan  made  by  the  art  of  the  silver- 
smith from  architectural  forms,  and  the 
taste  for  the  erection  of  miniature  chapels 
wliich  were  executed  with  an  extreme  care 
and  minuteness  reaching  to  the  smallest  de- 
tails. 

We  now  approach  the  Renascence,  the 
beginning  of  modern  times,  the  opening  of 
the  period  during  which  the  arts,  fine  and 
decorative,  have  suffered  the  most  serious 
crises.  It  is  necessary  before  we  leave  the 
centuries  that  we  have  just  now  studied,  to 
cast  upon  them  a  retrospective  and  sweep- 
ing glance.  This  glance  will  |)rovoke  the 
question  : 

What  lesson  can  the  artisans  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  teach  us  modern  men  who  wish  to 
j)repare  a  future  better  and  brighter,  a 
more  abundant  life  for  the  decorative  arts, 
which  shall  thus  reassumc  in  the  lives  of  our 
children  the  place  lost  by  them  so  many 
generations  since? 

I  have  said  art'isdus.  'i'he  word  artist 
did  not  exist.     r"urtliermore,  we  apph'  the 

.'.11 


X\l.      Kiliiiu.iry   uf   Saiiitc   Akk-Koiuic,    Maubriifjx-.    I'r.iiu-i 


asi- 


SIL\  KKS.MI  Ills    ART 


noble  term  of  artist  to  him  alone  who  de-      their  j)iiblic  sIiojjs  only.      Thev   could  not 

votes  himself  to  pure  art,   that    is.   to  the      melt    their 

painter,  the  sculptor,  or  tlu'  musician.      The 

men  of  the  Middle  Ao'cs  did  not  possess  the 

word.      IJut    they   owned    the    thin<r    itself. 

The  second  is  more  important  than  the  first. 

The  com])arison  between  our  decorative 
art  and  that  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  very 
humiliating  for  us.  who  boast  nevertheless 
of  belonging  to  a  highly  civili/ed  period 
and  speak  scornfully  of  the  barbarity  and 
the  darkness  of  mediaevalisni. 

It  is.  however,  necessary  to  understand 
that  one  of  the  strongest  reasons  for  the 
excellence  of  the  mediaeval  arts  lay  in  the 
organization  of  work  which  was  altogether 
different  from  the  system  obtaining  in  our 
own  day. 

The  workers  in  the  precious  metals,  in 
common  with  all  other  artisans,  formed  a 
corporation,  and  they  alone  who  were  mem- 
bers of  this  body  possessed  the  right  to 
fashion  objects  in  gold  and  silver.  This 
provision  constituted  a  })rivilege  which,  ac- 
cording to  our  modern  ideas,  w.is  harmfi;! 
to  society,  since  it  prevented  all  liberty  of 
trade.  But  the  privilege  possessed  by  the 
corporation  entailed  corresponding  duties. 
The  corporation  was  inspired  as  if  bv  a 
sense  of  common  and  personal  honor,  and 
it  exerted  every  effort  to  maintain  a  stand- 
ard excellence  of  production.  Thus,  there 
resulted  a  strict  constitution  of  laws  to 
which  all  members  were  subject.  I  have 
already  alluded  to  the  rules  which  governed 
the  alloy  of  the  precious  metals,  in  my  state- 
ment that  the  corporation  permitted  the  u.se 
of  gold  and  silver  only  in  the  purest  state 
compatible  with  effective  work.  In  order 
to  facilitate  supervision,  the  furnaces  of  the 
gold-    and   silversmiths   could   be    j)laced    in 


X  S'  1 1 .     M 


^33 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


cellar,  r'urthcrmorc,  the  period  of  ap- 
prenticeship and  of  "companionship"  was 
strictly  fixed.  And  tlli^  ])eriod  accomplished, 
tlie  aspirant  became  a  master,  upon  present- 
infif  to  the  corporation  a  work  created  with 
the  view  of  ])rovino-  that  lie  understood 
thoroughly  the  trade  wiiich  lie  was  about  to 
exercise  in  the  cupacitv  of  an  expert. 

I  (1(5  not  believe  that  the  jurors  to  whom 
such  works  were  submitted  were  greatly 
preoccupied  uitji  (juestions  of  pure  art. 
What  they  demanded  principally  of  an 
oliject  was-  tliat  it  should  l)e  technically 
jierfect.  There  are  in  all  tr.ades  honest 
nietiiods  and  ])rocesses,  which  are  more  or 
less  slow,  difficult  and  costly.  There  is,  on 
the  otlier  hand,  wliat  may  lie  termed 
juggling  or  tricking  the  difficultv.  The 
exclusive  use  of  the  best  and  most  honest 
methods  was  demanded  from  those  who 
])resented  tliemselves  as  candidates  for  the 
mastership.  The  fraternity  taught  respect 
for  the  trade  which  it  rejjresented. 

In  modern  workshops  these  principles  are 
scarcely  understood.  Labor  is  so  regulated 
that  the  smallest  object  passes  through  the 
hands  of  ten  workmen,  each  of  whom  lias 
his  specialty.  The  drawing  is  made  by  the 
chief  designer,  who  is  confined  to  his  paper 
and  wlio  would  be  quite  unable  to  execute 
the  thing  which  he  conceives.  Machines 
produce  the  desired  object  which  is  scarcely 
retouched,  except  to  receive  cleansing  and 
polish.  The  result.s  of  such  methods  speak 
for  themselves. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  the  artisan  loved  his 
trade,  and  wlien  he  set  his  hand  to  an  object, 
he  finished  it  himself;  devoting  to  it  the 
time  necessary  to  its  completion  and  perfec- 
tion. 

Tlie  art  of  the  future  can  not  be  made 
23+. 


the  subject  of  prophecy.  But  I  feel,  I 
know  well,  that  we  can  never  possess  a  deco- 
rative art  worthy  of  the  name,  until  we 
shall  have  formed  a  new  class  of  artisans 
who  shall  be  inspired  by  the  respect  and  the 
love  of  their  trade.  For  such  conditions 
time  is  necessary.  But  we  see  clearly  the 
end  before  us.  Of  what  import  is  the  time 
spent  in  its  attainment.^  The  essential 
point  is  to  reach  it. 

A  beautiful  work,  falling  outside  the  pe- 
riod and  the  scope  of  M.  Scliopfei''s  article, 
but  nevertheless  recalled  by  his  writing  and 
illustrations,  is  the  reliquary  preserved  in 
the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Blood,  at  Bruges, 
Belgium.  It  was  executed  by  a  Flemish 
artisan,  Jan  Crabbe,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  but  it  shows  the 
style  of  a  much  earlier  date.  It  is  wrought 
in  silver-gilt,  and  has  the  form  of  a  Gothic 
chapel,  like  many  of  the  French  reliquaries 
described  by  M.  Schopfer.  It  is  ornamented 
something  after  the  manner  of  a  Milan  ca- 
thedral in  miniature,  with  statues  of  saints 
and  angels  set  upon  the  roofs  and  pinnacles. 
These  small  figures  are  of  solid  gold,  and  a 
large  ninnbcr  of  costly  gems  are  set  along 
the  base  and  in  other  portions  of  the  work. 
The  stones  ai'e  very  characteristic  of  the 
times,  and  consist  largely  of  rubies  and 
emeralds;  these  jewels  are  uncut  and  set 
in  heavy  bands  of  gold.  It  is  one  of  the 
richest  of  rcli(juaries,  and  it  is  honored  by 
a  special  festival  occurring  annually  on  the 
first  Sunday  after  the  second  of  May,  when 
it  is  carried  in  solemn  procession  through 
the  streets  of  the  city ;  the  festival  consti- 
tuting the  most  brilliant  period  of  the  year 
in  the  old  town  which  has  received  the  name 
of  Bruges  the  dead. 


Cl\  R     HKAITV 


H 


A  N  D I C  R  A  F  T  W  O  R  K  E  R  S 
AM)  CIVIC  BEAUTY.  HY 
CHARLES  MULEORD  ROB- 
INSON.* 


OxE  of  the  national  organizations  en- 
gaged in  furtliering  tlie  cause  of  civic 
beauty  reports  tliat  it  has  found  no  riclicr 
field  for  recruits  than  among  the  workers 
in  handicraft.  It  has  even  discovered  that 
in  furthering  the  arts  and  crafts  movement, 
it  furthers  its  own  movement  for  beautify- 
ing towns  and  villages.  So  certain  has 
proved  this  connection  that  it  has  estab- 
lished an  Arts  and  Crafts  Section  as  one  of 
the  regular  dejiartments  of  its  activity. 

\'cry  little  thought  will  dissipate  the  sur- 
prise that  may  at  first  be  felt  in  discovering 
such  a  connection.  For  what  could  be  more 
natural  than  tiiat  those  who  work  patiently 
with  their  hands,  to  the  end  that  personality 
and  beauty — whose  sum  is  art — may  enter 
into  their  product,  should  be  quick  to  see 
and  deplore  all  the  uncalled-for  ugliness  of 
town  and  city  life,  and  should  long  for  the 
substitution  of  the  beautiful  where  there  is 
now  the  unnecessarily  hideous?  These 
workers  are  trained  critics.  Thev'  cannot 
help  recognizing  the  success  or  the  short- 
comings in  the  work  around  them  ;  all  the 
force  of  their  training,  in  supplementing 
their  natural  taste,  has  made  them  love  the 
true  and  hate  the  false,  and  the  genuineness 
and  intensity  of  their  feeling  constrains  to 
protest. 

The  workers  arc,  however,  or  rightfullv 
ought  to  be,  something  more  than  critics. 
They  should  be  the  leaders  in  taste  of  the 
community,  with  the  leadership  thrust  upon 
them  because  they  know.     To  lead  is  not  to 


their  own  advantage,  except  as  they  are 
members  of  an  afflicted  community  ;  it  is  to 
the  community's  profit.  The  leadership 
which  essentially  iKlongs  to  expert  knowl- 
edge ought  to  be  given  to  them;  but  if  it  is 
not  given,  it  is  their  right  to  take  it — not 
through  self  pride,  but  through  public 
spirit.  Knowledge,  we  have  to  remember, 
involves  not  only  power  but  responsibility. 
To  know  the  truth  and  not  brand  the  false, 
is  to  lie;  to  behold  the  hideous  and  sec  with- 
out protest  how  it  may  be  made  beautiful,  is 
a  greater  crime  than  ignorantly  to  create 
the  hideous.  So  tho.se  who  know  have  to 
speak.  The  handicraft  worker  does  know, 
if  it  is  the  real  art  impulse  that  has  put  him 
to  work  and  not  a  fad  or  fashion.  He  has 
to  be  a  critic  of  the  hurried,  thoughtless, 
heartless  work  about  him,  and  he  has  to  be 
critical  not  only  because  the  spirit  moves 
him,  but  because  of  his  obligal  ion  to  the 
communit}-. 

Hence  it  is  that  that  movement  for  "a 
more  beautifulAmerica," which  is  finding  its 
chief  field  of  activity  in  the  villages,  towns 
and  cities  of  tiic  land,  discovers  a  host  of 
valuable  allies  among  the  handicraft  work- 
ers. They,  happily,  are  in  these  very  vil- 
lages, towns  and  cities;  and  in  appealing  to 
them  for  aid,  we  are  asking  that  the}'  beau- 
tif  V  their  own  loved  home  and  its  surround- 
ings. A  warm  personal  interest  is  thus  sure 
to  enhance  the  general  interest  that  they 
would  naturally  feel ;  and  it  is  not  in  the 
least  extraordinary  that  they  furnish  many 
and  good  recruits  to  a  movement  that  must 
so  heartily  enlist  their  sympathy. 

But  the  critic's  role  is  a  thankless  one, 
and  he  does  scant  service  to  the  public  or  to 
himself  wiio  bv  his  criticism  inerelv  destroys 


•Author  of  "Tlif  Iiiiprovi'imiit  of  Towns  himI  ritifs"  iitid  "Moilirij  t'ivir  .\rl." 


^35 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 

without  creatiiifi;,  who  !)lot■k^  one  way  and  tion  «  itii  the  arts  anil  crafts.  The  wrought 
2>oints  out  no  other.  This  cliarge  can  hard-  iron  of  the  street  lantern  iiL  the  wall  of  the 
1_V  be  laid  at  the  door  of  the  worker  in  the  Strozzi  ])alaee  in  Florence,  and  of  the  well 
arts  and  crafts.  The  greater  knowledge  of  (()uinten  JNIatsys  in  Antwerj) — which  are 
which  is  recjuired  to  create  than  to  denounce  still  the  delight  of  artists — or  the  terra 
lie  abundantly  ])ossesses  ;  an('  that  jnililic  cotta  reliefs  of  I>uca  della  Robbia, — are  not 
obligation  which  is  his  higher  call  to  the  these,  th.e  products  of  handicraft,  quite  as 
scryice  of  criticism  is  his  warrant  for  dedi-  inseparable  a  factor  in  the  glory  of  that 
eating  to  the  community's  use  the  taste,  skill  ancient  ci\  ic  Renascence  as  is  t'\en  the  dome 
and  knowledge  he  possesses.  If  the  famil-  of  Hrnnelleschi  or  town  hall  in  Louyain? 
iar  utilities  of  the  street  are  needlessly  hid-  Indeed,  Rlashtield.  in  his  "Italian  Cities," 
cous.  if  the  electric  light  pole  is  graceless,  says  of  the  Moreiitine  artist:  "Art  did  not 
the  trolley  ]>oli'  an  eyesore,  the  advertise-  mean  the  production  of  ])ictures  and  stat- 
meiit  bai-baric.  the  strict  name-sign  a  blot  ues  onlv;  it  meant  a  jiractical  application 
on  the  \ista  of  the  way.  it  is  his  duty  to  do  of  the  knowledge  of  the  bciUitiful  to  the 
something  more  than  say  so  with  tremeii-  needs  of  daily  life.  ...  If  orders  came  in 
dous  energy.  He  must  make  a  lietter  street  his  absence,  the  apjirentices  were  to  accept 
furnishing,  or  show  how  it  can  be  made;  them  all,  even  those  for  insignificant  trifles  ; 
and  he  must  do  this  fearlessly,  without  re-  the  master  would  furnish  the  design  and  the 
gai'd  to  the  \cry  ])robable,  but  incidental,  pu])il  would  execaite.  .  .  .  There  were  con- 
aihantage  to  hnnself  in  so  doing.  stant  o])])ortunities.  .  .  .  Now  it  was  a 
This  is  the  higher  call  to  the  craftsman.  grouj)  of  brown  Carmelities  who  called  nias- 
as  distinguished  from  other  men  and  women.  ter  and  men  to  their  church,  to  be  at  once 
for  an  interest  in  ciyic  art.  That  there  ai'e  scene-setters,  costumers,  carpenters  and 
opportunities  for  great  personal  advantage  machinists  during  the  Ascension  Day  cere- 
in  the  movement  do  not  invalidate  the  high-  monies,  and  for  the  angel-filled  scaffolding 
er  call,  and  in  almost  every  individual  case  from  w  liich  \arious  sacred  personages  would 
they  nuist  sti-engthen  it.  The  fairly  ccr-  mount  to  heaven  .  .  .  Some  wealthy  mer- 
tain  reward  is,  indeed,  a  proper  fee  for  the  chant,  /pist  made  purveyor  of  Florentine 
great  service  which  the  arts  and  crafts  may  goods  to  the  most  Holy  Father,  would  ])ut 
lend  to  cixic  art:  and  so  there  is  emphasized  the  papal  escutcheon  on  the  cornice  of  his 
the  interdependence — or  at  least  the  mutual  house,  and  wish  to  know  what  the  master 
assistance- -of  the  two  moyements.  might  demand  for  bis  drawing.  .  .  .  Some- 
Modern  ci\'ic  art  has  been  described  as  "a  times  there  would  come  an  embassy  in  gowns 
ciyic  renascence."  The  jihrase  suggests  a  of  state  from  some  neighboring  city,  with 
turning  b.ack  for  jirecedents  to  the  great  armed  guards  and  sealed  jiarchnients,  bring- 
Renasceiice  when  l;iaiity  woke  again  to  the  ing  a  commission  for  the  painting  of  the 
world  at'ter  lur  sleep  through  the  dark  ages.  church  or  town  hall."  To  these  Renascence 
Then,  wlien  civic  art  Last  Houi-ished  so  not-  artists  art  was,  j)lainlv.  not  a  thing  apart 
ably  in  Italian  and  !■  lemisli  cities,  there  was  and  distinct  from  daily  life:  it  was  the  em- 
clearly  proved  the  closeness  of  its  coiniec-  bellishment  of  that  life.  Hence  the  glory 
236 


CIVIC  BEAT  TY 


and  vitality  of  tlicir  art.  and  lience  the 
prominence  in  it  of  tlie  arts  and  crafts,  and 
the  inseparahleness  of  the  products  of 
craftsmansliip  from  the  lovely  civic  art  of 
the  time. 

Nor  was  this  merel}-  an  accident.  The 
artists  interpreted  "art"  as  broadly  as  they 
did  because  they  loved  tlie  town  or  city,  and, 
lover-like,  found  no  task  too  mean  or  small 
if  so  they  gave  pleasure  to  her.  And  by 
their  love  they  transformed  tiie  task  that 
had  been  mean  and  small  until  it  became  the 
wortiiy  ])rodiK't  of  tiieir  skill.  Lucca  has 
been  immortalized  by  a  Lucchesan  artist 
who,  with  the  exception  of  six  statues  for  a 
chapel  in  the  Duomo  at  Genoa,  did  no  work 
that  was  not  destined  for  his  native  city  and 
its  territory.  "To  this  day,  outside  Lucca," 
says  Carmichael,  "one  cannot  well  stud^' 
Civitali."  Florence  owes  her  proud  title  of 
"The  Beautiful"  to  the  circumstance  that 
the  artist  who  was  the  greatest  of  her  sons, 
freel}'  as  he  scattered  his  riches  over  Italy, 
reserved  for  his  own  city  his  most  precious 
gifts. 

There  is,  then,  splendid  precedent  for  an 
assertion  that  civic  art  and  the  arts  and 
crafts  are  mutually  concerned.  But  the 
connection  had  been  obvious  without  a  pre- 
cedent, which  is,  therefore,  of  only  historical 
interest ;  and  the  interdependence  steadily  is 
growing  in  closeness  as  urban  evolution  adds 
more  furnishings  to  the  street. 

It  is  significant  in  this  connection  that 
tiie  civic  art  crusade  in  Belgium,  which  was 
started  in  1894  and  {)romptly  secured  so 
notable  a  revival  of  the  Flemish  art-of-the- 
town,  began  with  the  following  as  the  ex- 
pressed purposes  of  I/Oeuvre  Nationale 
Beige,  the  national  society'  that  was  organ- 
ized to  further  it: 


'l"o  clotiu'  in  an  artistic  form  all  that 
progress  has  made  useful  in  the  public  life. 

To  transform  the  streets  into  picturesque 
museums  comprising  various  elements  of 
education  for  the  people. 

To  restore  to  art  its  one  time  social  mis- 
sion, etc. 

To  make  advertisements  artistic  and  to 
secure  the  competition  of  advertisers  in  art 
and  beauty  instead  of  in  size  and  hideous- 
ncss ;  to  obtain  gracef  id  electric  light  poles, 
artistic  flag  staffs, correctly  designed  kiosks, 
street  signs  and  trolkn-  poles,  were  the  first 
and  the  most  popular  steps  which  the  soci- 
ety took  to  bring  art  into  the  street  and  to 
revive  the  ancient  glory  of  the  Flemish 
cities.  That  in  every  one  of  these  efforts 
there  is  an  opportunity  for  the  arts  and 
crafts  movement,  in  the  extension  of  its 
field  and  the  bestowal  upon  it  of  civic  use- 
fulness, requii'es  no  explanation.  Belgium 
has  been  already  so  far  educated,  by  these 
men  who  dared  to  be  leaders,  that  she  en- 
trusts, on  occasion,  the  ])reparation  of  her 
civic  pageants  to  the  artists;  she  has  learned 
that  the  artistic  in  public  work  is  as  cheap 
as  is  the  hideous  and  is  far  more  to  be 
desired;  and  she  has  convinced  the  world  of 
the  interest  and  value  of  municipal  exhibi- 
tions, so  that  now  our  own  St.  Louis  is  to 
follow  with  a  special  section  the  examples 
set  succe.ssively,  and  more  generously,  by 
Brussels,  Paris,  and  Dresden,  not  to  say 
Turin. 

The  work  that  has  been  done  in  Belgium 
points  the  way,  with  sufficient  certainty,  to 
the  work  that  may  be  done  here.  But  long 
before  it  is  made  with  us  a  national  move- 
ment, in  the  sense  not  so  much  of  extent  as 
of  organization,  it  may  be  locally  under- 
taken wherever  there  is  an  arts  and  crafts 


^37 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


society,  or  a  liamlicraftsiiian.  In  the  case 
of  tlie  society,  it  not  only  may  be  under- 
taken, but  it  should  he.  There  is  no  better 
field  of  activity  than  the  town  itself,  nor  is 
there  any  which  is  worthier  of  the  crafts- 
man's zeal,  nor  any  toward  which  he  has  a 
more  definite  obligation. 

If  in  the  village  or  small  town  tliere  are 
lackinc  some  of  the  utilities  of  the  street 
that  in  cities  present  an  opportunity,  there 
still  are  many  possessed  in  common,  and 
always  there  are  the  civic  celebrations  to  be 
arranged  artistically.  The  small  conmni- 
nity  lias,  too,  some  furnishings  to  take  the 
place  of  the  urban  utilities.  It  is  not  many 
months  since  the  club  women  of  a  New  Eng- 
land state  otFered  a  prize  for  the  most  artist- 
ically designed  guide  and  finger  posts  for 
country  roads.  In  tiie  town  bulletin  board, 
which  is  the  feature  of  the  village  green, 
and  in  the  bulletin  board  which  i.s  fastened 
so  conscpicuoulsy  to  many  a  church,  there 
is  afforded  another  chance.  The  fountain 
and  the  bandstand  are  still  more  conspicu- 
ous. The  waste  receptacle  1)}'  its  ])resent 
slipshod  construction  gives  more  often  an 
impression  of  untidiness  than  of  the  reverse. 
The  planting,  that  is  properly  coming  to  be 
considered  a  form  of  handicraft,  is  always 
of  importance,  in  the  private  home  grounds, 
since  they  border  the  street,  as  well  as  in  the 
public  places.  If  there  must  be  billboards, 
these  can  be  made  neater,  more  attractive, 
and  harmonious  than  they  are;  and,  in  at 
least  the  cities  and  larger  towns,  the  crest  or 
arms  of  the  nuuiicipality  can  be  fittingly 
worked  into  the  design  of  all  the  municipal 
furnishings. 

The  great  merit  of  all  this  work,  its  spe- 
cial advantages  and  invitation  to  the  crafts- 
man, is  that,  if  the  object  is  to  be  really  a 
238 


work  of  art,  it  must  be  made  to  suit  the  spot 
for  which  it  is  designed.  This  exact  fit- 
ting to  environment,  which  means  not  only 
the  adjustment  of  proportions  and  the  har- 
monizing of  colors  and  materials,  but  also 
the  welding  into  its  construction  of  the 
spirit  of  the  place,  makes  it  just  the  prob- 
lem that  the  artist  loves,  gives  to  it  the 
possibility  of  personality,  and  insures  it 
against  the  successful  competition  of  the 
tiesign  which,  in  another  town  or  among 
other  surroundings,  has  proved  to  be  of 
value.  The  arts  and  crafts  workers  of 
every  town  have  their  chance. 

It  often  happens,  too,  that  the  great  art 
objects  of  the  towns  call  so  loudly  for 
beauty  in  these  smaller  objects,  in  order  that 
tiuir  own  beauty  may  be  perfected,  that  the 
battle  of  the  public  spirited  craftsman  has 
been  half  won  before  he  begins  to  fight. 
General  opinion  already  sides  with  him  and 
there  is  needed  onl}'  the  good  design.  Take, 
for  exanijjle,  the  case  of  the  Library,  which 
an  exhaustless  liberality  is  now  making  the 
familiar  art  object — the  one  consciously 
beautiful  civic  structure — of  so  many  towns 
and  cities.  How  often  the  impression  which 
its  chaste  and  snowy  beauty  ought  to  give  is 
marred  by  the  ugliness  of  the  trolley  poles 
before  it,  by  the  cheap  and  ill-proportioned 
street  lamps,  by  the  crude  wooden  bench  for 
waiting  or  transferring  passengers,  by  the 
gaunt  telegraph  pole,  the  glaring  letterbox, 
or  the  slovenly  waste  can  or  barrel !  Would 
the  liberality  that  gave  the  lovely  building 
have  stopped  at  the  slight  additional  ex- 
pense that  could  have  substituted  an  appro- 
priate and  well  designed  street  furnishing 
for  that  which  now,  necessarily  in  the  fore- 
groimd,  detracts  so  sadly  from  the  effect 
wiiich  the  architect  desired;  or  would  the 


ri(  TUllEI)   POESIES 


civic  pride  and  public  spirit  that  gave  the 
site  and  a  promise  of  maintenance — and 
that  perhaps  also  built  the  structure — have 
hesitated  to  round  out  and  complete  its  good 
work  at  so  small  an  extra  cost?  Plainly, 
there  was  lacking  only  the  timely  provision 
of  the  correct  design  ;  and  even  now,  if  onl}' 
it  be  furnished,  there  will  be  found  the 
means  to  remed}'  the  errors  of  the  past  as 
well  as  to  secure  the  better  result  for  the 
future. 

The  thouglit  of  what  a  little  care  in 
craftsmanship  can  do  at  this  point,  in  en- 
hancing the  impression  made  by  a  whole 
building,  or  in  changing  from  half  good  to 
wholly  good  tile  effect  of  the  town's  most 
strikinjT  scene,  is  a  sufj^estion  of  how  (jreat 
is  the  opportunity  of  him  wiio,  thinking, 
puts  his  soul  into  the  work  tliat  his  hands  do 
for  the  communit}'.  It  is  a  two-fold  oppor- 
tunity. It  is  personal,  in  the  chance  to 
make  a  lovely  work  of  art,  as  Matsj's  made 
his  well ;  it  is  civic,  in  the  effect,  far  out- 
reaching  the  article  itself,  which  his  good 
work  may  have.  The  craftsman  does  some- 
thing more  now  than  make  a  clever  thing. 
He  adorns  the  town,  the  town  he  loves,  as  a 
lover  adorns  his  mistress,  and  thereafter  he 
forgets  the  beauty  of  the  jewel  he  has  given 
to  her  in  the  heightened  beauty  of  the  whole 
effect. 

In  such  work,  finally,  must  there  not  come 
into  the  act  of  labor  an  exhilaration  that 
gladdens  and  lightens  it.^  How  j)altry  by 
comparison  seems  his  former  task,  of  add- 
ing something  to  the  beauty  of  a  rich  man's 
room,  of  contributing  another  precious 
thing  to  the  clo.sed  treasury  of  wealth ! 
Here  is  work  to  invite  his  consecration,  to 
enlist  the  whole  strength  of  his  artistic 
spirit,  the  whole  might  of  his  zeal.     He  is 


doing  this  not  for  an  individual,  but  for  all 
the  people;  he  is  making  a  utility  beautiful 
and  is  making  his  beautiful  object  for  a 
public  place,  where  it  will  be  seen  by  many 
and  not  shut  away,  and  where  its  educa- 
tional inHuence  will  reach  out  further  than 
he  can  guess,  among  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men ;  and  finally,  it  is  to  be  placed  where 
he  himself  may  enjoy  it;  it  will  not  be  lost 
to  him,  but  as  if  he  had  made  it  for  his  own 
delight  he  will  be  ;i  j)art  owner  of  it. 

There  enters,  too,  another  factor  into  the 
attractiveness  of  civic  work  for  craftsmen. 
This  is  its  quality  of  relative  permanency, 
and  constancy  of  ownership.  There  is  no 
passing  to  less  appreciative  hands,  no  buy- 
ing or  selling  into  less  favorable  surround- 
ings, no  fickleness  of  taste  or  fortune  to 
endanger  its  serene  existence  in  the  place 
for  which  it  was  designed. 

The  concern  of  the  handicraft  worker 
with  civic  beaut\-  is,  then,  ver}'  near.  There 
is  much  to  call  him  to  bear  a  part  in  the 
great  movement,  now  gathering  allies  from 
so  many  sources ;  and  upon  him  and  his 
interest  the  movement  waits  for  its  com- 
pleter triumph. 


P 


UTLKED  rOESIES:  AN  ES- 
SAY ON  THE  REBUS  IN 
AKT.     15  V     EUITH     MOORE. 


The  word  ''rebus"  (hardly  to  be  recog- 
nized under  the  above  title)  calls  to  mind 
the  last  page  of  a  Roys'  or  Girls'  Magazine, 
where  it  presides  over  a  series  of  little  pic- 
tures and  stray  .syllables  which  convey  a 
meaning  only  to  the  diligent  inquirer.  Yet 
it  represents  a  most  venerable  and  distin- 
truisiied  form  of  anuisement.  Tiie  ereat 
orator  Cicero  was  wont  to  use  as  his  sifina- 


231> 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


tiiro  tlie  picture  of  a  cliick-pea  or  vetch,  lesse  poesie,  they  wliich  lackt  wit  to  express 
called  Cicer  in  Latin ;  while  Julius  Caesar  their  conceit  in  speech  did  use  to  depaint 
stamped  ujion  his  coins  an  elephant,  the  it  out,  as  it  were,  in  pictures ;  which  thcv 
Mauritanian  word  for  which  is  Caesar.  called  rebus  by  a  Latine  name  well  fitting 
Even  in  the  Catacombs  (one  of  the  last  their  device:"  in  fact,  speaking  "by 
places   in   which  one  might  expect  to  dis-      things." 

cover  puns),  we  find  the  maiden,  Porcella,  In    a   time   when   the   generality    of   the 

figured  by  a  little  sculptured  pig ;  and  the  people  could  neither  read  nor  write,  much 
man.  Onager,  by  a  wild  ass.  was  tauglit  in  this  manner,  and  anyone  wlio 

The  word  "rebus"  is  derived  from  the  is  on  tiie  lookout  for  them  may  discover 
Latin  res — a  thing;  and  Camden,  the  anti-  plenty  of  these  "speechlesse  poesies"  in  old 
quarian,  explains  that  "whereas  poesie  is  a  churches,  scliools,  and  colleges.  Some  of 
speaking  picture,  and  a  picture  a  speech-      them  are  very  amusing,  for  the  old  monks 

and    bishops    liad    curious 

ideas    as    to    .spelling,    and 

used   letters   and   combina- 

;    '  ■  tions     of     letters     without 

'  i  reference  to  any  precedent, 

but  just  as  their  taste  and 
fancy  dictated. 

Rebuses  were  introduced 
into  England  from  Picardy 
by  Edward  the  Tliird,  so 
there  are  none  in  England 
older  than  the  fourteenth 
century.  Soon  after  their 
introduction  they  became 
very  common,  evidently 
pleasing  the  fancy  of  the 
bookmen  and  clerks.  These 
scholars,  who  could  not 
carry  tlieir  punning  de- 
vices into  battle  on  their 
shields,  or  wear  them  as 
crests  on  their  helmets, 
carved  tliem  on  their  win- 
dow-frames, or  in  the 
chapels  that  they  built. 
The      time      of      blazoned 


Sl5.rvd3 


No    1 


shields    is    now 
by ;    but    still 


long    gone 
in    Abbott 


i>-tu 


PICTURED  POESIES 


Islip's   cliapol   and  Prior   Bolton's   window 
we  can  see  the  odd  bits  of  luunour  which 


cf^T^ 


No.  2. 


make  history  live  for  us  in  the  personalities 
of  these  old  builders  who  seem  to  have  en- 
joyed a  joke  as  much  as  we  do. 

On  the  Rector's  lodgings  in  Lincoln  Col- 
lege, is  the  mark  of  Tliomas  Beckyngton, 
Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells.  He  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  building  of  the  college 
which  bears  in  token  tliereof  his  device  of 
a  beacon  and  tun  or  barrel  (111.  1),  with  T 
at  the  side  to  suggest  his  Christian  name. 
No  doubt  this  device  seemed  to  him  to  fulfil 
every  requirement  of  sense  and  sound  and 
to  be,  withal,  a  pleasing  idea. 

Queen's  College  affords  several  examples 
of  the  "rebus;"  but  perhaps  the  most 
famous  of  these  is  not  a  picture  but  a  cus- 
tom still  observed.  Long  ago  Bishop 
Eglefeld  (now  spelt  Eglesfield)  founded 
the  college  with  the  help  of  the  good  Queen 
Philippa.  His  eagle  is  still  seen  in  the 
crest,  on  the  arms,  and  on  the  college  furni- 
ture and  plate ;  but  as  a  further  perpetua- 
tion of  his  name  a  needle  and  thread,  or  in 
the  court  language  of  the  period  an  aiguille 
filee,  is  still  given  on  Christmas  day  to  every 
scholar  in  residence  with  the  admonition : 
"Be  Thrifty."  The  thread  has  its  own 
meaning,  and  should  be  three-fold, — scar- 
lot,  black,  and  blue, — in  token  of  Art, 
Divinity,  and  Law.  Henr\'  Bost,  the 
twelfth  Provost  of  the  College,  presented 
to  it  the  horn  of  a  "bos"  mounted  as  a 
drinking  horn,  in  alhi>ion  to  his  name. 
This    is    still    treasured    and    produced    on 


great   occasions.      Robert   Langton    placed 

in  each  of  the  windows  he  gave  the  letters 

TON  (111.  2),  which  to  his  simple 

mind   plainly    showed    forth    long   or 

long-ton. 

In  England's   other  great   Univer- 
sity. John  Alcock,   founder  of  Jesus 
College,  left  his  sign  of  a  cock  perched  on 
a  glove  conspicuous  everywhere.     On  one 
window  is  a  cock  holding  in  his  beak  a  label 
with  a  Greek  inscription ;  a  rival  bird  defies 
him  on  tlie  opposite  side  with  a  correspond- 
ing motto  which  Lower  has  translated  as: 
"I  am  a  cock,  the  one  doth  cry ; 
And  t'other  answers,  So  am  I." 
Litchfield  Cathedral  has  several  of  these 
interesting  punning  devices.     James  Den- 


No.  3 


2n 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


ton,  one  time  Dean,  placed  in  the  clioir  a 
copper  statue  of  himself  haliited  as  a  pil- 
grim, ■ttitli  scrip,  staff,  and  scallop  shells. 
The  last  was  an  important  emblem,  for  it 
signified  that  the  pilgrim  had  visited  the 
shrine  of  St.  James  of  Compostella.  This 
figure  being  ])laccd  ujion  tlie  convenient 
and  familiar  '"tun,"  the  name  it  depicted 
must  have  been  clear  to  the  meanest  under- 
standing— James  Dean-ton  !  In  the  same 
Cathedral  the  emblem  of  Roger  Wall  is 
emblazoned  on  a  window  on  the  South  side ; 
it  is  "a  fair  embattled  wall"'  with  a  roe-buck 
Ivinsc  near  on  whose  back  the  concluding 


a  very  clear  representation  of  his  name  (111. 
3).  As  support  to  a  shield  stands  a  cheer- 
ful-looking ram  on  a  rocky  ridge  holding 


\...  4 

syllable  ger  is  inscribed.  Not  far  off  John 
Ap  Harry  confides  his  name  to  an  intelli- 
gent posterity  under  the  pleasing  veil  of 
an  Eagle,  an  Ape  and  a  Hare  supporting 
a  bundle  of  rj'e ;  the  Eagle  is  of  course  the 
well  known  emblem  of  St.  John  the  Evan- 
gelist. Some  mental  strain  is  necessary 
fully  to  appreciate  all  of  these,  but  Dean 
Yolton's  Yol  on  a  tu7i  speaks  for  itself: 
with  this  exception,  the  most  of  the  devices 
of  these  Cathedral  dignitaries  remind  one 
of  Humpty  Dumpty  in  "Alice  through  the 
Looking  Glass,"  when  he  says  somewhat 
scornfully :  "My  words  mean  « hat  I  want 
'em  to  mean,  neither  more  nor  less." 

At  St.  Albans,  Abbot  Ramridge  has  left 


.N'o.  .5  .No.  6 

in  his  forefeet  an  Abbot's  crozier.  The 
Abbot  of  Ramsay  used  for  his  seal  a  ram 
in  the  sea  with  the  motto  in  Latin:  "He 
whose  sign  I  bear  is  leader  of  the  flock,  as 
I  am." 

Abbot  Islip's  Chapel  in  Westminster 
Abbey  affords  some  very  good  examples  of 
rebuses.  This  Abbot  lived  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  the  Seventh  and  did  much  for  the 
Abbey.  He  laid  the  first  stone  of  the 
jjresent  Lady  Chapel  and  carved  his  rebus 
and  initials  over  his  own  Chapel  and  over 
that  of  St.  Erasmus :  he  took  the  name  of 
his  birth-place,  a  small  village  near  Oxford, 
and  found  several  possible  interpretations. 
In  one,  a  little  man,  believed  to  be  a  portrait 
of  the  Abbot,  is  represented  as  slipping  out 
of  a  tree,  thus  showing  "/-«Zip"  (111.  4). 
We  must  hope  that  the 
likeness  is  not  a  faithful 
one  or  else  that  his  men- 
tal and  moral  charms 
compensated  for  his  lack 
of  physical  beauty.  In 
another  a  large  and 
somewhat  fishy  eye 
stands  for  the  first  letter 
and  a  hand  grasps  a  slip  of  a  tree  to  com- 
plete the  word  (111.  5).  The  third  is 
merelv  a  slifjht  variation  of  the  second,  the 


J43 


riCTUREl)   POESIES 


liand  catching  at  a  l)rancli  as  if  slipping, 
and  tlio  ove  again  useful  (111  (i).  A  mono- 
gram (111.  7)  and  a  beautiful  an-angement, 
deeply  under-carved,  of  his  full  name  (111. 
8)  complete  his  "picture  poesies"  outside; 
but  within  his  little  Chapel  it  may  be  seen 
that  the  roof  is  beautifully  carved  at  regu- 
lar intervals  with  this  same  monogram  and 
name  arrangement. 

In  the  fine  old  church  of  St.  Bartholomew 
the  Great,  West  Smithfield,  Prior  Bolton 
has  left  a  treasure  in  the  shape  of  a  loveh 
stone-cased  window,  high  up  in  the  choir 
(111.  9),  with  his  rebus  below:  a  bird  i)i)lt 
through  a  tun  (111.  10). 

Bebuses  were  favorite  devices  with  print- 
ers and  booksellers,  as  well  as  with  church 


the  intellect  .so  much  as  the  seal  of  the  Sur- 
rey Newdigates, — their  choice  being:  "An 


Xo.  8.    In  the  Islip  Chapel 

dignitaries.  We  hear  from  Peacham  that 
JMr.  Jugge,  the  printer,  expressed  his 
name  in  many  of  his  books  by  a  nightingale 
sitting  on  a  bush  with  a  rose  in  his  mouth, 
whereupon  was  written:  "Jugge,  jugge, 
jugge,"  in  supposed  inu'tation  of  the  night- 
ingale's song.  Newberry,  the  stationer, 
arranged  for  himself,  as  Lower  tells  us,  "an 
Ew  (Yew)  Tree  with  the  berries,  and  a 
great  \  hanging  upon  a  snag  in  the  midst 
of  the  tree,  which  could  not  chuse  but  make 
New  berry."  A  simple  emblem  was  enough 
for  Thomas,  Earl  of  Arundel's  pleasure; 
an  A  in  a  roundlet  or  rundle  does  not  tax 


ES^Mi- 


RHSinfTT"f""»"^'*»-* 


N'".  n.     Prior  Bolton's  window  with   rehus.  in  81.  Rar- 
tholoniew'.s 

Ancient  Portcullis-Gate"  with  n  iv  at  the 
to])  and  a  capital  I)  in  the  middle:  Ncw-D- 
Gate  (111  '[':>).  On  tlie  parsonage  gate  at 
(ireat  Snoring  in  Norfolk  a  shell  surmount- 
ing a  tun, — that  ever  useful  tun — is  deeply 
cut  in  the  stone  (111.  13),  and  plainly  testi- 
fies that  the  name  of  the  builder  was  Shel- 
ton. 

"You  may  imagine,"  says  Camden  in  his 
quaint  way,  "that  Francis  Cornefield  did 
scratch  his  elbow  when  he  had  sweetly  in- 
vented to  figure  his  name  St.  Francis  with 
his  Fiery  Kowle  in  a  Cornefield.-"  It  must 
iiave  been  difl^icult  to  particularize  the  Saint 
even  with  his  "Kowle ;"  it  assuredly  was  not 
a  device  that  he  who  ran  might  read.  An 
exceptionally    pretty    rebus    is    on    an    old 


No.  II.     Eiirlof  Arunilcl 


.N'o.  12.    Thi-  NfWiliL'iitis 
•2\H 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


i 

\ 


t5.''  No.  10.    Detail  of  Priur  Bnlton's  ■n-iiidnvr 

Isliiiirton   house:   <a   rose,   a   twisted  bit   of  nowadays!      And  we  also  hear  of  a  South 

cord,  and  a  «ing,  whicli  being  interpreted  Down    lass    who    replied    with    eommend- 

is  "l{ose  Knotwing."      Another  story  is  of  able  brevity  to  an  offer  of  marriage  with  a 

a  gallant  w  ho  loved  a  maid  called  Rose  Hill,  stroke  made  by  the  end  of  a  burnt  stick  and 

and  to  show  his  devotion  to  her  he  had  a  a   lock   of  wool   pinned   to  the   paper — "I 

rose,    a   hill,    an   eye,   a   loaf,   and   a   well,  wull." 

painted  on  his  gown,  signifying  "Rose  Hill,  To  quote  again  from  the  old  anticjuarian : 

I  love,  well."      How  exciting  our  friends'  "thus  for  rebus  may  suffice,  and  yet  if  there 

•new  clothes  would  be  if  they  displayed  their  were  more  I  think  some  lippes  would  like 

sentiments  with  the  same  charming  candor,  such  kind  of  lettice." 


241 


Ko.  13.    The  Shelton  relms 


WILTvIA.M     MOKKIS 


WILLIAM      MOKKIS:      HIS 
THOUGHTS,  TIIEOKIES 
AND     OPINIONS     UPON 
WORK  IN  A   FACTORY. 

TllUOrC.H  THE  COURTESY  AXn  GOOD  WII.T, 

OK  Ml!.  J.  Si'AitGO  OF  New  Youk,  the 
Editors  of  The  Crafts.man  have  ob- 
tained A  VALU.XBLE  LITERARY  DOCUMENT, 
'  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  WHICH  IS  K.VOWK  TO 
COMPARATIVELY  FEW   HEADERS.        ItS  OKICIN 

and  significance  are  explained  by'  the 
following  facts,  .\lso  furnished  by' 
.Mr.  Spargo.  On  January  19,  1894, 
there     was     published     in     england, 

MAINLY  THROUGH  THE  GENEROSITY  OF  Mr. 

Edward  C.\rpenter,  the  first  issue  of 
A    WEEKLY'    Socialist    paper,    "Justice," 

WHICH  STILL  survives  THE  VICISSITUDES  OF 
THE    STRUGGLE    CO.MMON    TO    SUCH    P.VPEKS. 

The  EDITORS  of  the  paper  were  Wil- 
LL\M  Morris,  H.  M.  Hynd.man  and  J. 
Taylor.     In   .addition   to   the   le.\ding 

editorial  article,  WHICH  BEARS  THE 
N.\ME  of  all  THREE,  THE  P,\PER  CON- 
TAINED A  SIGNED  ARTICLE  BY'  WiLLIAM 
]\IoRRIS:    HIS    FR.\KKLY'    AVOWED    SOCIALIST 

writing.  to  this  little  journal,  mor- 
ris  contributed  a  great  many  .^v^rticles 
and  some  of  his  most  charming  poems. 
In  April  of  that  same  ye.\r,  the  first 

OF  THE  FOLLOWING  PAPERS  APPEARED.   In 

after  y'ears,  when  questioned,  ]\Iorris 
frequently'  referred  to  the  papers  on 
Work  in  a  F.\ctorv  as  it  ^Iight  Re,  as 
his   jtost   definite   and   explicit   state- 

.MENT  ok  THE  SUBJECT.  BECAUSE  OF  THEIR 
INTEREST  AS  THE  OPINION  OF  THE  GREAT 
■  ARTIST  CRAFTSMAN,  THEY  ARE  HERE  RE- 
PRINTED. TlIKY  POSSESS  THE  FERVOR 
WHICH     .MADE     ALL     THE      UTTERANCES     OF 


WlLLl.\M      ]\IoRRlS      VITAL     AND     INSPIRING. 

They    are    saturate    with    the    rough 

VIGOR  OF  THE  AnGLO-SaXON  AND  THE 
PRACTICAL  SENSE  OF  THIC  ADVANCED  ECON- 
OMIST. 

WHY  NOT? 

A'i'  a  iiiectiiifr  of  tlic  Conimons  Pres- 
ervation Society,  I  heard  it  as- 
sumed by  a  clever  speaker  that  our 
f^reat  cities,  London  in  ])articidar,  were 
hi)iiiid  to  go  on  increasing  witlioiit  any 
limit,  and  those  present  accepted  that  as- 
sumption complacently,  as  I  think  people 
usually  do.  Now,  under  the  j)rcsent  Capi- 
talist .system,  it  is  difficult  to  see  anything 
which  might  stop  the  growth  of  these  horri- 
ble brick  Qncampments ;  its  tendency  is 
undoubtedly  to  depopulate  the  country  and 
small  towns  for  the  advantage  of  the  great 
connnercial  and  manufacturing  centres; 
but  this  evil,  and  it  is  a  monstrous  one,  will 
be  no  longer  a  necessary  evil  when  we  have 
got  rid  of  land  monopoly,  manufacturing 
for  the  profit  of  individuals,  and  the  slupiil 
waste  of  competitive  distribution;  and  it 
seems  probable  that  the  development  of 
electricity  as  a  motive  power  will  make  it 
easier  to  undo  the  evils  brought  upon  us 
by  capitalist  tyranny,  when  we  regain  our 
senses  and  determine  to  live  like  human 
beings;  but  even  if  it  turns  out  that  we 
must  still  be  dependent  on  coal  and  steam 
for  force,  much  could  still  be  done  toward 
making  life  pleasant,  if  universal  co-opera- 
tion in  manufacturing  and  distribution 
were  to  take  the  place  of  our  present  com- 
petitive anarchy.  At  the  risk  of  being 
considered  dreamers  therefore,  it  is  impor- 
tant for  us  to  try  to  raise  our  ideals  of  the 
y)lcasun'  of  life;  because  one  of  the  dangers 
which  tiie  social  revolution  runs  is  that  the 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


generation  wliicli  sees  the  fall  of  Capital- 
ism, educated  as  it  will  have  been  to  bear 
the  thousand  miseries  of  our  present  sys- 
tem, will  have  far  too  low  a  standard  of 
refinement  and  real  pleasure.  It  is  nat- 
ural that  men  who  are  now  beaten  down 
by  the  fear  of  losing  even  their  present 
pitiable  livelihood,  should  be  able  to  see 
nothing  further  ahead  than  relief  from 
that  terror  and  the  grinding  toil  under 
which  they  are  oppressed ;  but  surely  it  will 
be  a  different  story  when  the  community  is 
in  possession  of  the  machinerv,  factories, 
mines,  and  land,  and  is  administering  them 
for  the  benefit  of  the  community;  and 
when,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  men  find 
that  the  ])roviding  of  the  mere  necessaries 
of  life  will  be  so  far  from  being  a  burden- 
some task  for  the  people  tliat  it  will  not 
give  due  scope  to  their  energies.  Surely 
when  this  takes  place,  in  other  words  when 
thev  are  free,  they  will  refuse  to  allow 
themselves  to  be  surrounded  by  ugliness, 
squalor  and  disorder  either  in  their  leisure 
or  their  working  hours. 

Let  us,  therefore,  ask  and  answer  a  few 
questions  on  tlie  conditions  of  manufacture, 
so  as  to  put  iieforc  us  one  branch  of  the 
pleasure  of  life  to  be  looked  forward  to  by 
Socialists. 

Why  are  men  huddled  together  in  un- 
manageable crowds  in  the  sweltering  hells 
we  call  big  towns? 

For  profit's  sake ;  so  that  a  reserve  army 
of  labour  mav  always  bo  ready  to  hand  for 
reduction  of  wages  under  the  ii'on  law,  and 
to  supply  the  sudden  demand  of  the  capi- 
talist gamblers,  falsely  called  "organisers 
of  labour." 

Why  are  these  crowds  of  competitors  for 
subsistence  wages  housed  in  wretched  shan- 


ties which  would  be  a  disgrace  to  the  Flat- 
head Indians.^ 

For  ])rofit's  sake ;  no  one  surely  would 
build  such  dog-hutches  for  their  own  sake; 
there  is  no  insuperable  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  lodging  people  in  airy  rooms  decently 
decorated,  in  providing  their  lodgings  not 
only  with  good  public  cooking  and  washing 
rooms,  but  also  with  beautiful  halls  for  the 
connnon  meal  and  other  purposes,  as  in  the 
Colleges  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  which 
it  would  be  a  pleasure  merely  to  sit  in. 

Why  should  any  house,  or  group  of 
lodgings,  arranged  in  Hats  or  otherwise, 
be  without  a  pleasant  and  ample  garden, 
and  a  good  playground.'' 

Because  profit  ami  competition  rents  for- 
l)id  it.  Why  should  one-third  of  England 
be  so  stified  and  poisoned  with  smoke  that 
over  the  greater  part  of  Yorkshire  (for 
instance)  the  general  idea  must  be  that 
shcc])  are  natiu-ally  black?  and  why  must 
Yorkshire  and  Lancashire  rivers  run  mere 
filtli  and  i\yc? 

Profit  will  have  it  .so :  no  one  any  longer 
pretends  that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  pi'e- 
vent  such  crimes  against  decent  life :  but  the 
"organisers  of  labour,"  who  might  I)ettcr 
be  called  "organisers  of  filth,"  know  that 
it  wouldn't  pay  ;  and  as  tiiey  are  for  the 
most  part  of  the  year  safe  in  their  country 
seats,  or  shooting — crofters'  lives — in  the 
Highlands,  or  yachting  in  the  Mediter- 
ranean, they  rather  like  the  look  of  the 
smoke  country  for  a  change,  as  something, 
it  is  to  be  supposed,  stimulating  to  their 
imaginations  concerning — well,  we  mu.st 
not  get  theological. 

As  to  the  factories  themselves :  why 
should  there  be  scarcely  room  to  turn 
round  in  them?     Why  should  they  be,  as 


'246 


^VILLIAM    MORRIS 


in  the  case  of  the  weaving  slicds  of  over- 
sized cotton-factories,  hot  houses  for  rheu- 
matism? Whv  sliould  tln'v  he  such  miser- 
able prisons.  Profit-grindincf  compels  it, 
that  is  all :  thei'e  is  no  other  reason  why 
there  should  not  he  ample  room  in  them, 
abundant  air,  a  minimum  of  noise:  nay. 
they  might  he  beautiful  after  their  kind, 
and  surrounded  by  trees  and  gardens :  in 
man}'  cases  tlie  very  necessities  of  manufac- 
ture might  be  made  use  of  for  beautifying 
their  surrovmdings ;  as  for  instance  in  tex- 
tile printing  works,  which  require  large 
reservoirs  of  water. 

In  such  factories  labour  inight  be  made, 
not  only  no  burden,  but  even  most  attrac- 
tive ;  young  men  ajid  women  at  the  time  of 
life  when  pleasure  is  most  sought  after 
would  go  to  their  work  as  to  a  pleasure 
partv:  it  is  most  certain  that  labour  may 
be  so  arranged  that  no  social  relations 
could  be  more  delightful  tlian  commun- 
ion in  liopefid  work ;  love,  friendship, 
famih'  affection,  might  all  be  quickened 
by  it;  joy  increased  and  grief  lightened 
by  it. 

Where  are  the  material  means  to  come 
from  for  bringing  this  about.''  Fellow- 
workers,  from  the  millions  of  surplus  value 
wrung  out  of  your  labour  by  the  "organi- 
sers of  filth  ;"  screwed  out  of  you  for  the 
use  of  tools  and  machines  invented  by  the 
gathered  genius  of  ages,  for  the  use  of 
your  share  of  Earth,  the  Common  Mother. 

It  is  worth  while  thinking  about,  fellow- 
workers  !  For  while  theologians  are  dis- 
puting about  the  existence  of  a  hell  else- 
where, we  are  on  the  way  to  realising  it 
here:  and  if  capitalism  is  to  endure,  what- 
ever may  become  of  men  when  they  die,  they 
will   come   into   hell    when    they    are   boru. 


'I'liink  of  tliat  ami  devote  yourselves  to  the 
spread  of  the  Keligion  of  Socialism  ! 

A    FACTORY    .\S    IT    .MK'.UT    BF, 

WF  Socialists  are  ofter  reproached 
with  giving  no  details  of  the 
state  of  things  which  would  fol- 
low ujjon  the  destruction  of  that  system  of 
waste  and  «ar  which  is  sometimes  dignified 
by  the  lying  title  of  the  iiarmonious  combi- 
nation of  capital  and  labour:  many  worthy 
people  say,  "Wc  admit  tiiat  the  present  sy.s- 
tem  has  produced  unsatisfactory  results,  but 
at  least  it  is  a  system  ;  you  ought  to  be  able  to 
give  us  somedefinite  idea  of  the  results  of  that 
reconstruction  wiiich  you  call  Socialism." 

To  this  Socialists  answer,  and  rightly, 
that  we  have  not  set  ourselves  to  build  up 
a  system  to  please  our  tastes,  nor  arc  we 
seeking  to  impose  it  on  the  world  in  a 
mechanical  manner,  but  rutlur  tiiat  we  are 
assisting  in  bringing  about  a  development 
of  history  which  woidd  take  ])lace  without 
our  hel]).  but  which  nevertheless  compels  us 
to  hel})  it.  and  that  under  these  circmn- 
stances  it  would  be  futile  to  map  out  the 
details  of  life  in  a  condition  of  things  so 
different  from  that  in  wiiich  we  have  been 
born  and  bred.  Those  details  will  be  taken 
care  of  by  the  men  who  will  be  so  lucky  as 
to  be  born  into  a  society  relieved  of  the 
oj)pression  which  crushes  us,  and  who 
surely  will  be  not  less,  but  more  prudent 
and  reasonable  than  we  are.  Nevertheless, 
it  seems  clear  that  the  economical  changes 
which  are  in  progress  must  be  accompanied 
by  corresponding  developments  of  men's 
as[)irations  ;  and  the  knowledge  of  I  heir  ]iro- 
gress  caiuiot  fail  to  arouse  our  imaginations 
in  picturing  for  ourselves  that  life  at  once 
happy  and  manly,  which  we  know  social  revo- 
lulion  will  put  within  the  reach  of  all  men. 

.'+7 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Of  course  tlie  pictures  so  drawn  will  vary 
according  to  tlie  turn  of  mind  of  the  pic- 
turcr.  but  I  have  already  tried  to  show  in 
Justice  that  healthy  and  undomineering 
individuality  will  I)e  fostered  and  not 
crushed  out  by  Socialism.  I  will,  therefore, 
as  an  artist  and  handicraftsman,  venture  to 
develop  a  little  the  hint  contained  in  this 
journal  of  Ajiril  12th  on  the  conditions  of 
pleasant  work  in  the  days  when  we  shall 
work  for  livelihood  and  i)leasurc  and  not 
for  "profit." 

Our  factory  then,  is  in  a  pleasant  place: 
no  very  difficult  matter,  when  as  I  have  said 
before  it  is  no  longer  necessary  to  gather 
people  into  miserable  sweltering  hordes  for 
profit's  sake :  for  all  the  country  is  in  itself 
pleasant  or  is  capable  of  being  made  pleas- 
ant with  very  little  pains  and  forethouglit. 
Next,  our  factory  stands  amidst  gardens 
as  beautiful  (climate  apart)  as  those  of 
Alcinoiis,  since  there  is  no  need  of  stinting 
it  of  ground,  profit-rents  being  a  thing  of 
the  past,  and  tlie  labour  on  such  gardens 
is  like  enough  to  be  pui'ely  voluntary,  as  it 
is  not  easy  to  see  the  day  when  seventy-five 
out  of  every  hiuidrod  people  will  not  take 
delight  in  the  pleasantest  and  most  innocent 
of  all  occupations ;  and  our  working  people 
will  assuredly  want  open  air  relaxation  from 
their  factory  work. 

Even  now,  as  I  am  told,  the  Nottingham 
factory  hands  could  give  many  a  hint  to 
professional  gardeners  in  spite  of  all  the 
drawbacks  of  a  great  manufacturing  town. 
One's  imagination  is  inclined  fairly  to  run 
riot  over  the  pictui-c  of  beauty  and  pleasure 
offered  by  tlie  thought  of  skilful  co-opera- 
tive gardening  for  beauty's  sake,  which 
beauty    would    by    no    means    exclude    the 

248 


raising  of  useful  produce  for  the  sake  of 
livelihood. 

Impossible !  I  hear  an  anti-Socialist  say. 
My  friend,  please  to  remember  that  most 
factories  sustain  to-day  large  and  hand- 
some gardens,  and  not  seldom  parks  and 
woods  of  many  acres  in  extent ;  with  due 
apj^urtenances  of  highly  paid  Scotch  pro- 
fessional gardeners,  wood-reeves,  bailiffs, 
gamekeepers,  and  the  like ;  the  whole  being 
managed  in  the  most  wasteful  way  con- 
ceivable ;  only  the  said  gardens,  etc.,  are 
say,  twenty  miles  away  from  the  factory, 
out  of  the  smoke,  and  are  kept  up  for  one 
viemher  of  the  factory  only,  the  sleeping 
partner  to  w  it,  who  may,  indeed  double  that 
part  by  organizing  its  labour  (for  his  own 
profit ) ,  in  which  case  he  receives  ridiculously 
disproportionate  pa}'  in  addition. 

Well,  it  follows  on  this  garden  business 
that  our  factory  must  make  no  sordid  lit- 
ter, befoul  no  water,  nor  poison  the  air 
with  smoke.  I  need  say  nothing  more  on 
that  point,  as  "profit"  apart,  it  would  be 
easy  enough. 

Next,  as  to  the  buildings  themselves,  I 
must  ask  leave  to  say  something,  because 
it  is  usually  supposed  that  they  must  of 
necessity  be  ugly,  and  truly  they  are  al- 
most always  at  present  mere  nightmares; 
but  it  is,  I  must  assert,  by  no  means  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  ugly,  nay,  there 
would  be  no  serious  difficulty  in  making 
them  beautiful,  as  every  building  might  be, 
which  serves  its  purpose  duly,  which  is 
built  generously  as  regards  material,  and 
which  is  built  with  pleasure  by  the  builders 
and  designers;  indeed,  as  things  go,  those 
nightmare  buildings  aforesaid  sufficiently 
typify  the  work  they  are  built  for,  and  look 
Avhat  they  are :  temples  of  overcrowding  and 


WILLIAM    MOUIUS 


adulteration  and  over-work,  of  unrest  in  n 
word;  so  it  is  not  difficult  to  think  of  our 
factor}'  buildings,  showing  on  their  out- 
side, what  they  are  for:  reasonable  and 
light  work,  cheered  at  every  step  by  hope 
and  pleasure.  So  in  brief,  our  buildings 
will  be  beautiful  with  their  own  beauty  of 
simplicity  as  workshops,  not  bedizened 
with  tomfoolery  as  some  are  now,  which  do 
not  any  the  more  for  that,  hide  their  repul- 
siveness ;  but,  moreover,  beside  the  mere 
workshops,  our  factory  "ill  have  other 
buildings  which  may  carry  ornament 
further  than  that ;  for  it  will  need  dining 
hall,  liiirary,  school,  places  for  study  of 
various  kinds,  and  other  such  structures ; 
nor  do  I  see  why,  if  we  have  a  mind  for  it, 
we  should  not  emulate  the  monks  and  crafts- 
men of  the  Middle  Ages  in  our  ornamenta- 
tion of  such  buildings ;  why  we  should  be 
shabby  in  housing  our  rest  and  pleasure 
and  our  search  for  knowledge,  as  we  may 
well  be  shabby  in  housing  the  shabb}-  life 
we  have  to  live  now. 

And  again,  if  it  be  doubted  as  to  the 
possibility  of  getting  these  beautiful  build- 
ings on  the  score  of  cost,  let  me  once  again 
remind  you  that  every  great  factory  does 
to-day  sustain  a  palace  (often  more  than 
one)  amidst  that  costly  garden  and  park 
aforesaid  out  of  the  smoke;  but  that  this 
palace,  stuffed  as  it  is  with  all  sorts  of 
costly  things,  is  for  one  member  of  the 
factory  only,  the  sleeping  partner, — use- 
ful creature!  It  is  true  that  the  said 
palace  is  mostly,  with  all  it  contains,  beastly 
ugly ;  but  this  ugliness  is  but  a  part  of  the 
bestial  waste  of  the  whole  sj-stem  of  profit- 
mongering,  which  refuses  cultivation  and 
refinement  to  the  workers,  and  therefore  can 
have  no  art,  not  even  for  all  its  money. 


So  we  have  come  to  the  outside  of  our 
l''actory  of  the  Future,  and  have  seen  that 
it  does  not  injure  the  beauty  of  the  world, 
i)ut  adds  to  it  rather.  On  another  occasion, 
if  I  ma}^,  I  will  try  to  give  a  picture  of  liow 
the  work  goes  on  there. 

(WOHK  1X1   A  I  ACTORY  AS  IT  MICIIT  ni", 

IN  a  recent  article  we  tried  to  look 
through  tiie  present  into  the  future 
and  see  a  factory  as  it  might  be,  and 
got  as  far  as  the  surroundings  and  out- 
siile  of  it ;  hut  those  externals  of  a  true 
palace  of  intlustry  can  be  only  realised 
naturally  and  without  affectation  b}-  the 
work  which  is  to  be  done  in  them  being  in 
all  ways  reasonable  and  fit  for  human 
beings ;  I  mean  no  mere  whim  of  some  one 
rich  and  philanthroj)Jc  manufacturer  will 
make  even  one  factor^'  permanently  pleas- 
ant and  agreeable  for  the  workers  in  it; 
he  will  die  or  be  sold  up,  his  heir  will  be 
poorer  or  more  singlehcarted  in  his  devo- 
tion to  profit,  and  all  the  beauty  and  order 
will  vanish  from  the  short-lived  dream ; 
even  the  external  beauty  in  industrial  con- 
cerns must  he  the  work  of  society,  and  not 
of  individuals. 

Now  as  to  the  work  !  First  of  all  it  will 
be  useful,  and  therefore  honourable  and 
honoured ;  because  there  will  be  no  tempta- 
tion to  make  mere  useless  toj's,  since  there 
will  be  no  rich  men  cudffellinsr  their  brains 
for  means  for  spending  superfluous  money, 
and,  consequently,  no  "organisers  of  la- 
bour" pandering  to  degrading  follies  for 
the  sake  of  profit,  wasting  their  intelligence 
and  energy  in  contriving  snares  for  cash  in 
the  shape  of  trumpery,  which  they  them- 
selves heartily  despise.  Nor  will  the  work 
turn  out  trash;  there  will  be  no  millions  of 


U9 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


poor  to  make  a  market  for  wares  whicli  no 
one  would  clioose  to  use  if  he  were  not  driv- 
en to  do  so ;  every  one  will  be  able  to  afford 
tlunu's  ecood  of  their  kind,  and,  as  will  be 
shown  hereafter,  will  have  knowledge  of 
goods  enough  to  reject  what  is  not  excel- 
lent; coarse  and  rough  wares  may  be  made 
for  rough  or  temporary  puri^oscs,  but  they 
will  openly  proclaim  themselves  for  what 
they  are;  adulteration  will  bo  unknown. 

Furthermore,  machines  of  the  most  ingen- 
ious and  best  a])proved  kinds  will  be  used 
when  necessary,  but  will  be  used  simply  to 
save  human  labour;  nor  indeed  could  they 
l)e  used  for  anything  else  in  such  well-or- 
dered work  as  we  are  tiiinking  about;  since, 
jjroHt  being  dead,  there  woukl  be  no  tempta- 
tion to  pile  up  wares  wliose  apparent  value 
as  articles  of  use,  their  conventional  value 
as  such,  does  not  rest  on  tlie  necessities  or 
reasonable  desires  of  men  for  sucli  things, 
but  on  artificial  habits  forced  on  the  public 
bv  tile  craving  of  the  capitalists  for  fresli 
and  e\  er  fresh  profit  ;  these  things  have  no 
real  value  as  things  to  be  used,  and  their 
conventional  (let  us  say  sham)  utility-value 
has  been  bred  of  their  value,  as  articles  of 
exchange  for  profit,  in  a  society  founded  on 
profit  mongering. 

Well,  the  mainif'acture  of  useless  goods, 
whether  harmful  luxuries  for  tlie  ricli  or 
disgraceful  make-shifts  for  the  poor  having 
come  to  an  end,  and  we  still  being  in  pos- 
session of  the  machines  once  used  for  mere 
profit  grinding,  liut  now  used  only  for  sav- 
ing human  labour,  it  follows  that  much  less 
laljou.r  will  be  necessary  for  each  workman  ; 
all  the  more, as  we  are  going  to  get  rid  of  all 
nonworkers,  and  busy-idle  people;  so  that 
the  working  time  of  each  member  of  our 


factory  will  be  very  short,  say,  to  be  much 
w  ithin  the  mark,  four  hours  a  day. 

Now  next  it  may  be  allowable  for  an  ar- 
tist, that  is  one  whose  ordinary  work  is 
pleasant  and  not  slavish,  to  hope  that  in  no 
factory  will  all  the  work,  even  that  neces- 
sary four  hours  work,  be  mere  machine- 
tentling ;  and  it  follows  from  what  was  said 
above  about  machines  being  used  to  save 
labour,  tliat  there  would  be  no  work  which 
would  turn  men  into  mere  machines ;  there- 
fore at  least  some  portion  of  the  work,  the 
necessary  and  in  fact  compulsory  work,  I 
mean,  would  be  pleasant  to  do  ;  the  machine- 
tending  ought  not  to  require  a  very  long 
apprenticeship;  therefore  in  no  case  should 
any  one  person  be  set  to  run  up  and  down 
after  a  machine  through  all  his  woi-king 
hours  every  day,  even  so  shortened  as  we 
have  seen ;  now  the  attractive  work  of  our 
factory,  that  which  was  pleasant  in  itself  to 
do,  would  be  of  the  nature  of  art ;  therefore, 
all  slavery  of  work  ceases  under  such  a  sys- 
tem, for  whatever  is  burdensome  about  the 
factory  would  be  taken  turn  and  turn 
about,  and,  so  distributed,  would  cease  to  be 
a  burden,  would  be  in  fact  a  kind  of  rest 
from  the  more  exciting  or  artistic  work. 

Thus  then  would  the  sting  be  taken  out 
of  the  factory  system;  in  which,  as  things 
now  are,  the  socialisation  of  labour,  which 
ought  to  have  been  a  blessing  to  the  com- 
munity, has  been  turned  into  a  curse  by  the 
appropriation  of  the  products  of  its  labour 
by  individuals,  for  the  purpose  of  gaining 
for  them  tlie  very  doubtful  advantages  of 
a  life  of  special  luxury  and  often  of  mere 
idleness ;  the  result  of  which  to  the  mass  of 
the  workers  has  been  a  dire  slavery,  of 
which  long  hours  of  labour,  ever  increasing 
strain   of   labour  during  those  hours,  and 


'2.V1 


WILLIAM     MOKKIS 


complete   repulsiveness   in   tlic   work   itself 
luive  been  the  g-reatcst  evils. 

It  remains  for  me  in  another  article  to 
-it  forth  niv  hopes  of  the  wav  in  which  tiie 
iratiierinif  together  of  people  in  sucii  social 
bodies  as  proper!}-  ordered  factories  might 
l)e,  may  be  utilised  for  increasing  the  gen- 
eral ])]easuro  of  life  and  raising  its  stand- 
ard, material  and  intellectual;  for  creating 
in  slxH't  that  life  rich  in  incident  and  varie- 
ty, but  free  from  the  sti'ain  of  mere  sordid 
trouble,  the  life  which  the  Individualist 
vainly  babbles  of,  but  which  the  Socialist 
aims  at  directly  and  will  one  diiy  attain  to. 

I  WORK    IN)    A   FACTORY   AS   IT  .MIGHT   HF, 

Ill-V\  E  tried  to  show  in  former  articles 
that  in  a  duly  ordered  society,  in  which 
people  would  work  for  a  livelihood  and 
not  for  the  profit  of  another,  a  factory 
might  not  only  be  pleasant  as  to  its  sur- 
roundings and  beautiful  in  its  architecture, 
but  that  even  the  rough  and  necessary  work 
done  in  it  might  be  so  arranged  as  to  be 
neither  burdensome  in  itself  nor  of  long 
duration  for  each  worker;  but  furtiiermore 
the  organisation  of  such  a  factory,  that  is 
to  say  of  a  group  of  people  working  in  har- 
monious cooperation  towards  a  useful  end, 
would  of  itself  afford  oppurtunities  for  in- 
creasing the  pleasure  of  life. 

To  begin  with,  such  a  factory  will  surely 
be  a  centre  of  education;  anj'  children  who 
-eem  likely  to  develop  gifts  toward  its 
Npecial  industry'  would  gradually  and  with- 
out pain,  amidst  their  book  learning  be 
drawn  into  technical  instruction  which 
would  bring  them  at  last  into  a  tiun'ough 
apprenticeship  for  their  craft;  therefore, 
the  bent  of  each  child  having  been  consid- 
ired  in  choosing  its  instruction  and  occupa- 


tion, it  is  not  too  much  to  expect  that  chil- 
tlren  so  etlucated  will  look  forward  eagerlv 
to  the  time  when  they  will  be  allowed  to  work 
at  turning  out  real  useful  wares;  a  child 
whose  manual  dexterity  has  been  developed 
without  undue  forcing  side  by  side  with 
its  mental  intelligence,  would  surely'  be  as 
eager  to  handle  shuttle,  liaiiiiiur,  or  w  hat  not, 
for  the  first  time  as  a  real  workman,  and  be- 
gin making,as  a  yoiuig  gentleman  now  is  to 
get  hold  of  his  first  gun  and  begin  killing. 

This  education  so  begun  for  the  child 
will  continue  for  the  grown  man,  who  will 
have  every  opportunity  to  practise  the  nice- 
ties of  his  craft,  if  he  be  so  minded,  to 
carry  it  to  the  utmost  degree  of  j)erfection, 
not  for  the  purpose  of  using  his  extra 
knowledge  and  skill  to  sweat  his  fellow- 
workman,  but  for  his  own  pleasure,  and 
honour  as  a  good  artist.  Similar  oppor- 
tunities will  be  afforded  him  to  study,  as 
deeply  as  the  subject  will  bear,  the  science 
on  which  his  craft  is  founded:  beside,  a 
good  library  and  help  in  studying  it  will  be 
provided  by  every  productive  group  (or 
factory),  so  that  the  worker's  other  volun- 
tary work  may  be  varied  by  the  study  of 
general  science  or  literature. 

liut  further,  the  factory  could  supply- 
another  educational  want  by  showing  the 
general  public  iiow  its  goods  are  made. 
('()mj>etition  i)eing  tlead  and  bin'ied,  no  new 
process,  no  (litaij  of  improvements  in  ma- 
chinery, would  be  hidden  from  the  first  re- 
(juirer ;  the  knowledge  which  might  thus  be 
imparted  would  foster  a  general  interest  in 
wr)rk  and  in  the  realities  of  life,  which  would 
surely  tend  to  elevate  labour  and  create  a 
standard  of  excellence  in  maiuifucture, 
wiiich  in  its  turn  would  breed  a  strong 
motive  towards  exertion  in  tiie  workers. 


•ij\ 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


A  strange  contrast  sucli  a  state  of  things 
would  be  to  tliat  now  existing  !  For  to-da_y 
tlie  public,  and  especially  that  part  of  it 
which  does  not  follow  any  manual  occupa- 
tion, is  grossly  ignorant  of  crafts  and  pro- 
cesses, even  when  they  are  carried  on  at 
its  own  doors  ;  so  that  most  of  the  middle 
class  are  not  only  defenceless  against  the 
most  palpable  adulterations,  but  also,  which 
is  far  more  serious,  are  of  necessity  whole 
worlds  i-emovcd  from  any  sympathy  with 
the  life  of  the  workshop. 

So  managed,  therefore,  the  factory,  by 
cooperation  with  other  industrial  groups, 
will  provide  an  education  for  its  own  work- 
ers and  contribute  its  share  to  the  education 
of  citizens  outside ;  but  further,  it  will,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  find  it  easy  to  jn-ovide 
for  mere  restful  amusements,  as  it  will  have 
ample  buildings  for  library,  school-room, 
dining  hall,  and  the  like;  social  gatherings, 
musical  or  dramatic  entei'tainments  will 
obviously  be  easy  to  manage  under  such 
conditions. 

One  pleasure — antl  that  a  more  serious 
one — I  must  mention :  a  pleasure  which  is 
unknown  at  present  to  the  workers,  and 
which  even  for  the  classes  of  ease  and  lei- 
sure only  exists  in  a  miserably  corrupted 
and  degraded  form.  I  mean  the  practice  of 
the  fine  arts :  jieople  living  untler  the  condi- 
tions of  life  above-mentioned,  havuig  man- 
ual skill,  teclmical  and  general  education, 
and  leisure  to  use  these  advantages,  are 
(luite  sure  to  develop  a  love  of  art,  that  is 
to  say,  a  sense  of  beauty  and  interest  in  life, 
which,  in  the  long  run  must  stimulate  them 
to  the  desire  for  artistic  creation,  the  satis- 
faction of  which  is  of  all  pleasures  the 
greatest. 

I  have  started  by  supposing  our  group 


of  social  labour  bu.sying  itself  in  the  pro- 
duction of  bodily  necessaries ;  but  yve  have 
seen  that  such  work  will  only  take  a  small 
part  of  the  workers'  time :  their  leisure, 
beyond  mere  bodily  rest  and  recreation,  I 
have  supposed,  some  would  employ  in  per- 
fecting themselves  in  the  niceties  of  their 
craft,  or  in  research  as  to  its  principles; 
some  would  stop  tiiere,  others  would  take  to 
studying  more  general  knowledge,  but  some 
— and  I  think  most — would  find  themselves 
impelled  towards  the  creation  of  beauty, 
and  would  find  their  opportunities  for  this 
under  their  hands,  as  they  woi'ked  out  their 
due  quota  of  necessary  work  for  the  com- 
mon good ;  these  would  amuse  themselves  by 
ornamenting  the  wares  they  made,  and 
would  t)nly  be  limited  in  the  quantity  and 
quality  of  such  work  by  artistic  considera- 
tions as  to  how  much  or  what  kind  of  work 
reallv  suited  the  wares  ;  nor,  to  meet  a  possi- 
ble objection,  would  there  be  any  danger  of 
such  ornamental  work  degenerating  into 
mere  amateur  twaddle,  such  as  is  now  in- 
fiicted  on  the  world  by  fine  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen in  search  for  a  refuge  from  bore- 
dom ;  because  our  workers  will  be  thorough- 
ly educated  as  workers  and  will  know  well 
what  good  work  and  true  finish  (not  trade 
finish)  mean,  and  because  the  public  being 
a  body  of  workers  also,  everj'one  in  some 
line  or  other,  will  well  understand  what 
real  work  means.  Our  workers,  therefore, 
will  do  their  artistic  work  under  keen  criti- 
cism of  themselves,  their  workshop  com- 
rades, and  a  public  composed  of  intelligent 
workmen. 

To  add  beauty  to  their  necessary  daily 
work  will  furnish  outlet  for  the  artistic 
aspirations  of  most  men;  but  further,  our 
factory,  which  is  externally  beautiful,  will 


BUILDING   A   BUNGALOW 


not  be  inside  like  a  clean  jail  or  workhouse; 
the  architecture  will  come  inside  in  tiic  form 
of  sucli  oninuieut  as  may  be  suitable  to  the 
special  circumstances.  Nor  can  I  sec  why 
the  highest  and  most  intellectual  art,  pic- 
tures, sculpture,  and  the  like,  should  not 
adorn  a  true  palace  of  industry.  People 
living  a  manly  and  reasonable  life  would 
have  no  difficulty  in  refraining  from  over- 
doing both  these  and  other  adornments ; 
here  then  would  be  opportunities  for  using 
the  special  talents  of  the  workers,  especially 
in  cases  where  the  daily  necessary  work 
afforded  scant}'  scope  for  artistic  work. 

Thus  our  Socialistic  factory,  besides 
turning  out  goods  useful  to  the  community, 
will  provide  for  its  own  workers  work  light 
in  duration,  and  not  oppressive  in  kind, 
education  in  childhood  and  youth:  Serious 
occupation,  amusing  relaxation,  and  mere 
rest  for  the  leisure  of  the  w  orkers,  and  with- 
al that  beauty  of  surroundings,  and  the 
power  of  producing  beauty  which  are  sure 
to  be  claimed  by  those  who  have  leisure, 
education,  and  serious  occupation. 

No  one  can  say  that  such  things  arc  not 
desirable  for  the  workers ;  but  we  Socialists 
are  striving  to  make  tiioni  seem  not  only 
desirable,  but  necessary,  well  knowing  that 
under  tiie  present  sj-steni  of  society  they  arc 
impossible  of  attainment — and  why?  Be- 
cause we  cannot  afford  the  time,  trouble, 
and  thought  necessary  to  obtain  them. 
Again,  why  cannot  we.'  Because  xce  are  at 
-iCar,  class  against  class  and  man  against 
man ;  all  our  time  is  taken  up  with  that ;  wc 
are  forced  to  busy  ourselves  not  with  the 
arts  of  peace,  but  with  the  arts  of  war, 
which  are  briefly,  trickery  and  oppression. 
Tender  such  conditions  of  life  labour  can 
but  be  a  terrible  burden,  degrading  to  the 


workers,  more  degrading  to  those  who  live 
upon  their  work. 

This  is  the  system  which  we  seek  to  over- 
throw, and  supplant  by  one  in  which  labour 
will  no  longer  be  a  l)urden. 


H 


OW  TO   BUILD   A   BUNGA- 
LOW. 


The  term  "Bungalow"  in  the 
process  of  transplantation  from  the  banks 
of  the  Ganges  to  the  shores  of  Saranac 
Lake  and  other  summer  abiding  places,  has 
lost  its  significance  in  a  large  measure;  the 
American  bungalow  being  nothing  more  or 
less  than  a  summer  residence  of  extreme 
simplicity,  of  economic  construction  and 
intended  for  more  or  less  primitive  living. 
In  too  many  instances  the  summer  residence, 
in  spite  of  the  every  appeal  from  the  woods, 
the  streams  and  the  rocks  for  simplicity,  is 
but  an  illy-designed  suburban  ho\ise  taken 
bodil}',  in  many  instances,  from  architect- 
ural pattern  books. 

In  response  to  many  requests  The 
Craftsman  presents  herewith  various  draw- 
ings in  which  it  is  intended  to  give  a  solu- 
tion of  the  proljlcin.  The  exterior  presents 
a  combination  of  materials  easily  obtainable 
in  any  locality,  which  may  be  put  together 
by  any  man  having  the  slightest  knowledge 
of  mason-work  and  carpentry.  Tlie  build- 
ing is  constructed  in  the  usual  manner  of 
the  balloon  framed  houses,  covered  with 
sheathing  tarred  paper,  over  which  are 
placed  large  pine,  cedar,  or  red-wood  shin- 
gles, as  arc  most  available  in  the  locality  in 
which  the  building  is  situated.  It  is 
jHirposed  to  stain  these  shingles  a  dull 
burnt  sienna  color,  and  the  roof  in  a  color 
technically    known    as    silver-stain.      This 


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ELEVAJIOIV  OrrRONT 


rLnrVATIOIf  OF  SIDE: 


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THE   CRAFTSMAN 


sienna  color,  in  a  very  sliort  time,  comes  to 
look  like  an  autumn  oak  leaf;  and  this, 
together  with  the  rough  stone  of  the  large 
chimney,  tends  to  tie  the  building  to  its 
surroundings  and  to  give  it  the  seeming  of 
a  growth  rather  than  of  a  creation.  It  is  a 
curious  fact  that  the  principles  laid  down 
by  the  late  lamented  Frederick  Law  Olm- 
sted, relative  to  the  coloration  of  buildings 
with  regard  to  their  surroundings, — princi- 
ples so  capable  of  demonstration  and  so 
obvious, — should  meet  with  so  little  recogni- 
tion ;  and  that,  instead  of  structures  which 
seem  to  grow  from  the  plain  or  the  forest 
and  become  a  part  of  the  landscape,  we 
have  otherwise  admirable  architectural  ef- 
forts that  affront  the  sensitive  eye;  crying 
aloud  in  white  lead  and  yellow  ochre  the 
blindness  of  the  owner  to  even  the  A  B  C 
of  decorative  fitness.  The  large  and  spa- 
cious veranda,  the  simple  forms  of  the  roof, 
and  the  short  distances  between  joints 
(eight  feet,  six  inches)  tend  to  give  the 
construction  an  air  of  genuine  homeliness: 
a  quality  in  design  much  to  be  sought  for 
and  not  always  attained.  It  is,  however, 
a  subject  for  congratulation  that  the  coun- 
try side  is  no  longer  affronted  with  lean, 
narrow,  two-story  houses  surmounted  by 
mansard  roofs,  and  situated  on  farms  of 
anywhere  from  seventy-five  to  two  hundred 
acres;  the  designers  of  these  monstrosities 
seeming  to  have  forgotten  that  the 
mansard  roof  was  the  result  of  the  endeavor 
to  evade  the  Ijuilding  laws  of  Paris,  and 
equally  seeming  to  be  unconscious  of  the 
fact  that  the  building  laws  on  the  average 
farm  are  not  quite  so  stringent. 

The  interior  is  as  simple  as  the  outside, 
and  while  presenting  no  particular  novelty 
of   plan   or   construction,   is    deemed   wor- 


thy of  consideration.  In  order  that  the 
sylvan  note  may  be  retained  equally  as  in 
the  outside,  the  interior,  as  far  as  its  color 
is  concerned,  aspires  to  harmonize  with  the 
dull  but  rich  tones  of  autumnal  oak  leaves. 
This  quality,  which  is  only  too  often  neg- 
lected, should  be  strongly  insisted  upon  in 
all  structures  of  this  nature,  as  it  is  not  easy 
of  accomplishment  to  be  in  touch  with 
Nature  and  at  the  same  time  to  live  in  an 
environment  of  white  and  gold,  accented 
with  Louis  XV.  furniture. 

The  large  general  living  room,  with  an 
ample  fire-place  and  the  bookcase  for  the 
few  necessary  volumes  of  summer  reading, 
together  with  the  other  features  indicated 
by  the  perspective  drawing,  gives  it  a  cer- 
tain distinction  that  is  oftentimes  lacking  in 
erections  of  this  class.  The  walls  of  this 
room  are  sheathed  and  covered  with  burlap 
of  a  dull  olive  yellow,  while  the  exposed 
construction  of  the  ceiling  is  stained  a  wet 
mossy  green  color,  by  a  mixture,  which, 
while  inappropriate  to  side  walls,  seems  on 
the  ceiling,  where  it  may  not  be  handled,  to 
serve  the  purpose  better  than  anything 
else.  Water  color  tempered  with  glycerine, 
— the  glycerine  never  drying  as  oils  would 
do. — in  this  instance  serves  the  purpose  very 
much  better  and  gives  to  the  color  incorpor- 
ated in  it  a  suggestion  of  the  woodland  to 
be  obtained  in  no  other  manner.  The  floor 
is  of  hard  maple,  and  will  receive  a  dark 
shade  of  brown,  considerably  lower  in  value 
than  any  other  color  in  the  room.  The 
balance  of  the  woodwork  throughout  the 
house  is  preferably  of  cypress ;  but  should 
contingencies  require,  it  may  be  of  hem- 
lock. The  visible  stone-work  of  the  fire- 
place (if  it  can  be  obtained),  will  be  of  lime- 
stone  that   has   weathered   by    exposure   a 


GFiOU/VZ)  rLQDJ^i-  f'LA.N 


SECOND  rLa:>R2^JM<r 


9J7 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


sufficient  length  of  time  to  give  it  that 
characteristic  spongy  look  found  in  the 
strippings  of  Hmestone  quarries.  This 
treatment,  if  used  with  raked-out  joints,  is 
extremely  effective  and  will  harmonize  ad- 
mirably with  the  simplicity  cf  th<4  plans  of 
the  house,  and,  at  the  same  time,  give  a 
strong  masculine  note.  From  the  height 
of  the  top  of  tlie  door  to  the  underside  of 
the  ceiling  extends  a  frieze  in  stencil,  of 
conventional  objects  relating  to  primitive 
life,  done  in  the  same  straight-forward 
manner  as  the  balance  of  the  struc- 
ture. In  this  decoration  the  slightest  at- 
tempt at  anything  beyond  pure  symbolism 
would  result  in  disaster,  as  the  building  is 
essentially  primitive  in  its  general  design, 
and  equally  so  should  be  the  decoration. 
This  arrangement,  together  with  window 
hangings  of  extreme  simplicity,  such  as  a 
figured  creton  in  varying  shades  of  pale 
3'ellow  accented  with  dull  red,  should  satis- 
factorily complete  the  room. 

The  dining-alcove,  opening  from  this 
apartment,  being  a  continuation  of  the 
living  room,  is  treated  in  the  same  manner. 
The  permanent  fittings  of  the  alcove  con- 
sist of  a  primitive  sideboard  and  a  conven- 
ient and  unobtrusive  serving  shelf. 

The  alcove,  separated  from  the  living 
room  by  the  arch  and  two  posts,  as  indicated 
in  the  drawing,  is  so  arranged  that  it  may 
be  used  either  as  a  portion  of  the  living 
room,  or  as  a  provision  for  guests,  as  a 
bedchamber.  It  is  provided  with  a  couch, 
which  may  serve  as  a  bed,  a  chest  of  draw- 
ers, a  pier  glass  and  a  writing  desk ;  the 
pier  glass  facing  the  large  fireplace  in  the 
living  room  and  reflecting  the  same.  The 
kitchen,  and  its  accompanying  offices,  are, 
as  this  bungalow  is  intended  for  summer 

238 


occupation  only,  semi-detached  and  only 
connected  by  means  of  a  covered  way,  from 
which,  except  in  inclement  weather,  the 
glass  and  sash  are  removed.  For  obvious 
reasons  the  cellarage  for  the  kitchen  is 
omitted  and  such  storage  as  is  desired  is 
provided  for  on  the  ground  floor.  The  bed 
rooms  are  moderately  spacious  and  easy  of 
ventilation.  The  treatment  of  the  bed 
room,  as  far  as  material  and  color  are  con- 
cerned, is  identical  with  that  of  the  living 
room:  viz.,  burlap  side  walls  and  stained 
construction  of  the  ceiling ;  the  former  of 
olive  green ;  the  latter  of  moss  green. 

Tiie  sanitary  arrangements  of  the  bun- 
galow consist  of  a  single  bath  room  on  the 
second  story,  supplied  with  a  tub  and  an 
earth  closet,  together  with  a  lavatory  on 
the  ground  floor;  and  the  provisions  for 
water  are  made  by  the  wind-mill  shown. 

In  connection  with  these  drawings  is  a 
sclieme  which,  for  the  usual  site  in  which 
this  bungalow  would  be  built,  seems  ade- 
quate, proper,  and  tending  to  unite  the 
structure  to  its  surroundings  without  the 
usual  abrupt  transition  from  handicraft  to 
Nature. 

THE   BUNGALOW'S  FURNITURE 

If,  after  having  been  built  with  great  re- 
spect for  harmony  and  appropriateness,  the 
bungalow  should  be  filled  with  the  usual  col- 
lection of  badly  designed  and  inadequate 
furniture,  the  ensemble  would  be  distress- 
ing, and  the  thought  involved  in  the  struc- 
ture of  the  building  thrown  away.  The 
term  furniture  implies,  per  se,  movable  por- 
tions of  the  building,  and,  as  such,  should  be 
conceived  by  the  designer.  Otherwise,  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  an  unpleasant  sense  of  in- 
congruity   prevails.     The    importance    of 


^?^-^8P"?v5 


Kirfpl.'UH^  in  iivin;;  n-oni 


i    11  wiiL'    I 1 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


unity  between  the  furniture  and  the  struc- 
ture, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  every  writer 
on  the  topic  has  insisted  u])on  it,  in  the  ma- 
jority of  instances  is  further  from  realiza- 
tion tlian  it  was  in  the  Stone  Age,  when,  by 
force  of  circumstances,  liarmony  of  man- 
ners, methods  and  materials  was  a  necessity. 
It  is  not  intended  by  tliis  to  suggest  that  we 
should  return  to  tiiat  period,  but  to  empha- 
size the  fact  that  necessity  invoK'es  simplic- 
ity and  that  simplicity  is  the  key  note  of 
harmony.  This  furniture,  while  adapted 
with  much  ])recision  to  its  various  func- 
tions, is  of  almost  primitive  directness.  It 
is  done  in  oak  with  a  pale  olive  Craftsman 
finish,  and  tluis  becomes  an  integral  part 
of  the  bungalow. 

Whatever  hardware  is  used  in  connection 
with  this  furniture  is  of  wrought-iron, 
in  tile  "Russian  Hnish,"  which  falls 
into  place  very  readily  in  the  general 
scheme. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  in  furnishing 
this  bungalow  to  omit  every  article  that 
is  not  absolutely  essential  to  the  comfort 
or  the  convenience  of  the  occupants,  it  not 
being  intended  to  make  the  building  in  a 
small  way  a  cheap  nuiseum  to  be  indiffer- 
ently managed  by  an  amateur  curator,  as  is 
usually  the  case  in  urban  residences  and 
frequently  happens  in  the  summer  cottage, 
to  the  great  disturbance  of  the  simple  life. 


I 


XSPIR.VTION      IN      MATERIAL. 
BY    CHARLES    F.    BINNS. 


"All  flesh  is  not  the  s.\me  flesh  : 
but  there  is  oxe  kind  of  flesh  of  men, 
.\x0thkk  fi.esh  of  beasts,  another  of 
fishes  and  another  of  birds.  tliere 
are    also    celestial    bodies    and    bodies 


TERRESTRIAL:  BUT  THE  GLORY  OF  THE 
CELESTIAL  IS  ONE  AND  THE  GLORY  OF  THE 
TERRESTRIAL  IS  ANOTHER." St.   PauL. 

This  is  true,  but  not  always  logically  rec- 
ognized. When  he  who  casts  a  metal  col- 
umn says:  "I  will  paint  it  to  resemble 
wood,"  when  the  worker  in  glass  obscures  its 
brilliance  that  it  may  pass  for  porcelain, 
when  the  maker  of  furniture  covers  his 
woodwork  with  bronze,  they  are  jointly  and 
severally  engaged  in  falsifying  their  mate- 
rials and  denying  that  bodies  celestial  or 
bodies  terrestrial  have  any  inalienable  right 
to  appear  in  propria  persona. 

A  glance  over  the  pursuit  of  industrial 
art  as  illumined  by  the  light  of  history,  will 
serve  to  show  that  when  the  creations  of 
men  were  uninfluenced  by  the  vagaries  of 
fashion  and  their  creators  unaware  of  an 
insensate  demand  for  novelty,  the  material 
in  which  they  wrouglit  was  the  source  of 
their  inspiration. 

To  the  Egyptian  sculptor  the  unyielding 
rock  suggested  massive  features  and  solid 
form.  His  colossal  figures  are  wrested 
from  the  granite  as  by  Titanic  force. 
Lnmobilo  and  immutable  they  serve  the 
world,  suggesting  a  rule  pitiless  and  un- 
yielding, hard  as  the  nether  millstone. 

Nurtured  in  a  milder  age  and  caressed 
by  the  hand  of  luxury,  the  Greek  touched 
tile  marble  with  the  breath  of  genius  and  it 
lived.  The  material  demanded  grace  and 
detail.  It  responded  to  his  very  thought 
and  the  result  called  forth  the  wonder  of 
an  admiring  world. 

In  like  manner  the  most  successful  work- 
ers in  metal,  in  glass  and  in  wood  are  those 
who  have  sought  their  inspiration  in  the 
material    itself,    scorning  concealment   and 


26(t 


IXSriKATlON    IN    MATERIAL 


asserting  with  persistent  power  tlic  sub- 
stance wlierein  tlicv  wrouerlit. 

The  nature  of  this  inspiration  is  plain. 
Ever}'  material  wliicli  can  he  hrought  into 
obedient  service  hy  man  has  its  possibilities 
and  its  limitations.  One  possesses  beauti- 
ful color  but  fragile  substance.  One  is 
rigid,  one  plastic.  One  is  wrought  with  a 
needle,  one  with  a  lianimer,  and  anotlier  with 
a  cliisel.  One  can  be  drawn  out,  another 
can  be  carved,  and  a  tiiird  melted.  And 
each  one  has  a  limit  beyond  which  the 
craftsman  cannot  go.  It  is  by  an  intuitive 
sense  of  these  possibilities  and  limitations 
tluit  the  critic  is  able  to  discriminate  be- 
tween fit  and  unfit — to  refuse  the  evil  and 
to  choose  the  good.  The  possibilities 
of  production  take  more  than  one  direc- 
tion. A  substance  may  be  viewed  as 
a  source  of  beauty,  strength,  or  utility. 
It  may  be  beautiful  because  of  form,  color, 
or  texture,  or  the  method  of  its  formation 
may  lend  to  it  a  peculiar  charm.  This  is 
illustrated  by  the  special  beauty  of  Vene- 
tian glass.  The  artificers  gave  full  Jjlay 
to  tlie  ductile  quality  of  the  hot  materia], 
and  produced  results  which  could  not  have 
been  attained  in  another  medium.  In  like 
manner  the  beautiful  vietro  di  trina,  or  lace 
glass,  is  an  inspiration  drawn  from  material 
and  method.  Impossible  in  any  other  sub- 
stance, it  displaA's  to  the  full,  the  quahties 
belonging  to  the  glass  itself. 

Of  all  the  materials  whicii  lend  them- 
selves to  the  iiand  of  the  craftsman  there  is 
none  with  greater  possibilities  than  clay. 
In  all  ages  the  fictile  art  has  flourished,  and 
the  delight  of  working  in  a  plastic  medium 
has  captivated  the  mind  of  man  throughout 
the  world.  The  inspiration  of  clay  pro- 
ceeds from  many  sources.     The  abundant 


material  and  its  apparent  worthlessness  is 
in  itself  full  of  fascination.  Its  docility 
and  tiie  after  possibility  of  permanence  by 
fire  constitute  a  considerable  claim  to  no- 
tice. Clay  lends  itself  to  the  inspiration 
of  form  and  of  color  alike  and  there  is, 
further,  an  unrivaled  opportunity'  for  in- 
dividual expression. 

The  modern  clay-worker  belongs  to  an 
ancient  clan.  In  the  dim  distance  of  the 
forgotten  past  the  first  potter  toiled.  We 
know  not  liis  name  nor  flie  place  of  his 
al)ode,  but  the  work  wliicii  lie  inaugurated 
lias  proved  tiie  most  fertile  intiex  to  the 
characteristics  of  the  nations.  What  an 
inspiration  is  here!  From  Assyria  to 
Athens,  througii  Italy,  France  and  Hol- 
land, tlie  long  procession  comes.  It  num- 
bers in  its  colunms  a  llaphael,  a  ^lichel- 
angelo,  a  Pallisy,  beside  rank  upon  rank 
of  men  whose  names  have  been  forgotten, 
Imt  whose  work  is  still  known  and  beloved. 

Clay  is  one  of  the  most  bountiful  provis- 
ions of  Nature.  It  is  often  of  no  apparent 
\alue.  A'ast  sup])lies  of  it  lie  in  every  val- 
ley awaiting  use.  How  estimable  then  is 
tiiat  art  which  seizes  upon  this  common 
tiling  and  transforms  it  into  buildings, 
subways,  and  articles  useful  and  ornamen- 
tal. To  tile  artist,  clay  affords,  in  a  higher 
(Kgree  than  anv  other  substance,  the  in- 
spiration of  form.  It  leads  to  a  realization 
of  solid  thinking  and  enables  him  to  offer 
his  ideas  to  the  world  in  fact  rather  than  in 
representation.  The  willing  clay  is  quick 
to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  master  mind.  Its 
ready  sympathy  appeals  to  his  imagination 
and  the  expression  of  an  idea  becomes  easy. 
Form  is  realized  througii  method.  The 
built  jar  of  the  Indian  is  as  expressive  in 
its  way  as  the  wheel-fashioned  work  of  the 

■jai 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Greek.  The  quality  of  each  depends  abso- 
lutely upon  the  means  employed.  In  the 
former,  there  is  a  plastic  suggestion,  a  vi- 
brant irregularity  of  sui-facc,  which  could 
not  have  been  produced  in  any  other  way. 
The  hand  reveals  itself  in  evci-y  curve  and 
undulation,  not  asserted  with  affectation  or 
aggrcsively  claiming  attention,  but  with 
subtile  art  displaying  its  skill. 

The  wheel  work  is  equally  expressive. 
Here  quality  of  line  and  texture  of  surface 
call  for  notice.  The  result  impresses  one 
with  the  idea  of  refinement.  A  pure  line 
has  been  conceived  and  its  realization  made 
possible  by  the  method  employed. 

The  play  of  color  in  burned  clay  is  most 
suo-srestive  and  inspirational.  So  restful 
is  it  and  yet  full  of  variety  that  one  is 
tempted  to  wonder  why  those  who  essay  to 
build  are  always  seeking  for  new  color 
effects.  Color  effects  can  be  easily  secured 
by  painting,  but  the  natural  variation  in  a 
brick  wall  cannot  be  reproduced  by  any 
artificial  process.  A  craze  for  uniform 
color  in.  roofing-tile  has  resulted  in  making 
some  of  these  perfect  products  look  like 
painted  tin.  How  much  more  beautiful  is 
the  tile  when  advantage  is  taken  of  the 
changes  wrought  by  fire!  A  gentle  undu- 
lation of  light  flows  over  the  whole  work. 
The  result  is  repose,  but  not  monotony. 

From  the  earliest  times  .the  natural  color 
of  clay  has  been  esteemed:  sometimes  set 
off  by  a  contrast,  as  in  the  Greek  black 
glazed  vases,  sometimes  .enriched  liy  subse- 
(|uent  treatment,  as  in  tlie  Aretine  red  ware. 
Too  often  artificial  colorings  have  been 
demanded  and  it  cannot  be  a  matter  for 
wonder  that  the  effect  is  strained  and  un- 
natural. But  while  this  is  true  of  the  clay 
itself,  it  is  the  glory  of  pottery  that  a  sur- 


face of  almost  any  character  and  quality 
may  legitimately  be  added.  In  glaze,  no 
color  is  artificial  which  will  stand  the  fire, 
and  hence  a  wide  range  of  effects  in  color 
and  texture  becomes  possible.  Primarily  a 
glaze  is  utilitarian  in  its  purpose.  Its 
function  is  to  keep  the  piece  of  pottery 
from  absorbing  liquids  and  to  afford  a  sur- 
face which  shall  be  easily  cleaned.  Such  a 
surface  is,  however,  brilliant  and  pleasing. 
The  play  of  light  upon  it  affords  satisfac- 
tion, and  it  becomes  valuable  by  reason  of 
quality.  As  soon  as  a  comparative  stand- 
ard is  reached,  competition  begins  and  one 
producer  vies  with  another  in  securing  the 
best  results.  An  inspiration  is  therefore 
found  in  the  glaze;  and  when  to  the  quality 
of  the  surface  is  added  color,  it  will  be  seen 
that  supreme  satisfaction  is  possible. 

The  inspiration  arising  from  color  unit- 
ed witii  a  brilliant  surface  is  quite  diflPerent 
from  that  i-esiding  in  the  soft  tones  of 
textile  fabrics.  Each  has  its  place.  The 
latter  is  passive,  retiring,  restful,  harmoni- 
ous ;  the  former  is  assertive,  strong.  The 
radiance  emanating  from  it  is  at  once  ex- 
pressive and  individual.  A  piece  of  pot- 
tery thus  becomes  a  leading  feature  in  a 
scheme  of  decoration,  and  this  fact  is  in 
itself  an  inspiration  to  the  maker. 

The  inspiration  of  material  consists  botii 
in  possibility  and  limitation.  The  way  of 
production  is  barred  in  one  direction,  it  is 
025cn  in  another.  To  force  the  bars  is  to 
produce  an  unnatural  result  and  to  court 
defeat.  To  follow  the  line  of  least  resist- 
ance is  obvious  and  natural.  Unhampered 
bv  technical  difficulties,  the  craftsman  can 
accomplish  his  ends  and  give  to  the  world 
that  which  is  fit  and  therefore  fine. 

For  those  who  desire  that  their  clay  pro- 


262 


CHESTS    AXD    CAIUXKTS 


ductions  shall  be  restful  ratiicr  tlian  assor-  ao;ain.st  iier  bridal,  and  was  the  prototype 
tive,  there  are  great  possibilities  in  gla/es  of  of  the  modern  article  wliich  has  come  to 
dead  surface.  These  must  not  be  compared  serve  a  similar  purpose;  made  of  old  oak, 
with  the  quality  of  the  unglazed  clay,  clamped  with  iron,  it  was  used  as  a  treasure 
Their  texture  is  rather  that  of  marble. 
With  all  the  advantage  of  brilliant  jrlazes 
as  regards  color,  they  have  a  charm  of 
their  own  in  the  soft  sliccn  which  seems  to 
radiate  iis  light  from  a  bright  surface. 
One  does  not  wonder  that  artists  and  crafts- 
men have  assiduous]}-  sought  for  these  tex- 
tures. Whether  in  bold  architecture  or 
simple  household  goods,  they  are  cliarming 
in  their  quiet  beauty. 

With  such  possibilities  witliin  liis  reach, 
the  artist-potter  of  the  twentictli  century 
has  no  need  to  envy  him  of  the  sixteenth. 
With  the  traditions  of  a  glorious  past  he 
may  be  confident  of  a  still  more  glorious 
future  when  sham  and  shoddy  shall  alike 
be  destroyed,  when  the  emancipated  arti- 
san shall  become  the  artist,  and  all  things 
made  by  man  shall  be  in  very  truth  wliat 
thev  seem. 


A 


NCIENT  AND  :\IODERN 
CHESTS  AND  CABINETS. 
HV   GRACE   L.    SLOCUM. 


All  furniture,  it  has  been  said,  has 
evolved  from  the  chest,  which  in  its  origi- 
nal form  was  used  for  every  conceivable 
purpose.  It  was  found  in  the  houses  of 
the  poor  and  of  the  ricli,  in  court,  in 
church,  and  in  hall.  Placed  against  the 
walls,   or   elsewhere,   it   served   as   seat    or 

wardrobe,  bench  or  .settle,  for  chairs  were     chest    or    traveling    chest    by    kings    and 
not  known  until  the  beginning  of  the  four-      nobles;  and  it  was  used  in  churches  to  store 
teenth  century  ;  made  of  cypress,  cedar,  or      rich  vestments,  silver  and  relics  of  saints, 
ebony,  it  was  used  by  the  Italian  maiden,  to  The  earliest  mention  of  a  chest  in  history 

store  away  the  linen  which  she  accumulated      is    found    in    the   story    of   the   "Chest   of 


2G3 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


tlie    second    century,    A.    D.,    and    i 
wliich  many  legends  were  woven. 

In  an  old  MS.,  attributed  to  P;iu.sanias, 
at  Loyden,  Holland,  it  is  described  as  "a 
chest  of  cedar  wood,  and  upon  it  are 
wroua'ht    fiffures,   some   of   ivory,   some   of 


Kypselos,"  which  was  seen  at  Olympia  in      gold,  and  some  of  the  cedar  wood  itself. 

nd  In  this  chest,  Kypselos,  the  tyrant  of  Cor- 
inth, was  hidden  by  his  mother  when,  at  his 
birth,  the  Bacchiadae  sought  to  find  him.  .  . 
Most  of  the  figures  on  the  chest  have  in- 
scriptions in  archaic  characters." 

The  stor}',  as  told  in  this  old  MS.,  is 
embodied  in  an  article  in  a 
"Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies," 
wherein  the  writer  strives  to  re- 
construct this  magnificent  relic 
of  old  Greek  art,  which  in  beauty 
and  workmanship  must  have  far 
surpassed  anything  of  the  kind 
of  which  we  have  now  any  knowl- 
edge. 

According  to  tradition,  the 
Bacchiadae,  having  been  told  by 
the  Delphic  Oracle  that  the  child 
would  chastise  Corinth,  sought 
to  kill  him ;  and  his  mother  hid 
liim  in  the  chest.  Thereafter,  he 
was  called  Kypselos,  the  name 
given  by  the  Corinthians  to  this 
article  of  furniture.  The  chest 
was  dedicated  at  Olympia,  in 
memory  of  his  deliverance,  and 
stood  in  the  Heraion. 

It  is  uncertain  when  the  legend 
Was  attached  to  the  chest — prob- 
ably not  before  the  Hellenistic 
period.  But  the  evidence  goes 
to  show  that  the  chest  was  a 
Corinthian  work  of  art  of  the 
'  arly  archaic  period  dating 
[iroljably  from  the  first  decade 
of  the  sixth  century  B.  C. 
Judging  from  the  representa- 
tions on  old  vases  and  the  evi- 
dence of  the  inscription,  it  was 
a  rectangular  chest,  such  as  that 


Hi^i»anu-.Muiuhquc  cabinet;  ptrriud  1000 


26i 


CHESTS    AM)    t  AIUXKTS 


in  which,  according  to  the  old  m^-th,  Danae 
put  to  sea.  It  was  probably  about  five  feet 
long,  half  as  wide,  and  three  feet  high. 
There  were  five  horizontal  bands,  orna- 
mented with  scenes  from  Homer,  and  other 
symbolical  representations,  and  with  various 
devices  and  inscriptions,  the  letters  thereof 
inlaid  with  gold.      The  pictures  include  the 


carved  receptacle  of  English  workmanship 
extant  that  is  in  a  fair  state  of  preserva- 
tion. The  carvings  represent  severally 
Romulus  and  Remus  suckled  by  the  wolf; 
the  Adoration  of  the  Magi ;  the  beheading 
of  St,  John  the  Baptist  (doubtful),  and  an 
episode  from  the  Teutonic  legend  of  Egil. 
They  are  accompanied  l)y    inscriptions   in 


,Si^. 


(.'olonial  chest  ouce  tlie  property  of  Kocer  Williains 


Trojan  cycle,  a  representation  of  Peleus 
and  Thetis,  the  Judgment  of  Paris,  Mene- 
laos  and  Helen,  Ajax  and  Cassandra,  and 
the  Marriage  of  Medea  and  Jason. 

One  of  the  most  unique  examples  of  the 
ancient  coffer  is  the  little  one  in  the  British 
Museum  carved  out  of  whalebone  and  beau- 
tifully polished.  According  to  Roc's  ac- 
count in  his  "Ancient  Coffers  and  Cup- 
boards,"   it   is   believed   to   be   the   earliest 


Anglo-Saxon  runes  in  the  Northumbrian 
dialect.  The  coffer  belongs  probably  to 
tiie  sixth  century. 

It  was  not  until  the  tenth  century  that 
we  find  the  first  mention  of  the  chest  as  an 
article  of  dome.stic  furniture.  Even  the 
wealthy  classes  had  little  furniture,  and  the 
chest  served  as  a  packing  box,  trunk,  or 
strong  box,  in  which  the  worldly  possessions 
of  the  household  in  the  line  of  fine  linens 


if(i.i 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


and  woolens  (spun  by  the  women  of  the 
household),  were  stored  for  safekeeping,  or 
for  transportiition.  From  this  ])riniitive 
form  was  evolved  the  bench  or  settle  with  a 


Italian  wrililni: 


i>tTVr  nr  ( liiicvra  rlu-!s  t;  culli-criun  of  H.  Anthony  Dyur 


during  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth ;  and 
the  cabinet. 

The  fifteenth  century  showed  great  in- 
crease in  the  manufacture  of  cliests.  These 
pieces  were  often  beautifully 
carved,  or  painted,  or  otherwise 
ornamented.  Examples  of  the 
different  styles  of  the  earliest 
periods  ai'e  to  be  found  in  the 
museums  of  Europe  and  in 
the  old  churches  in  England, 
Normandy  and  elsewhere  ;  but 
the  specimens  to  be  found  in 
this  country  are  few  and  far 
between.  A  beautiful  example 
of  the  gilt  and  painted  "crt«- 
soni"  of  the  Italians  is  to  be 
seen  at  "Fenway  Court,"  Mrs. 


panel  back  and  arms  at  the  ends ;  the  high- 
backed  chair  with  box  seat  used  for  storage 
purposes ;  the  dressing  table  of  the  seventh 
century,  with  drawers;  and  the  high  chest 
of  drawers,  the  chiffonier,  and  the  ward- 
roije. 

Tliere  are  many  varieties  of  the  chest 
itself,  each  having  its  own  peculiar  name. 
In  its  first  form  it  was  little  more  than  a 
strong  box  with  a  lock,  made  of  boai'ds 
pegged  together,  and  clamped  and  bound 
with  iron ;  the  corner  pieces  and  hinges 
often  elalioratelv  wrought  by  the  artist 
craftsman.  '^I'his  was  known  as  a  "coffer," 
a  ""trussing  chest,"  or  a  "Bride  wain;"  the 
latter  term  being  applied  in  northern  coun- 
tries to  the  marriage  coffer.  Then  there 
were  the  "credence,"  a  sort  of  combination 
of  table  and  cupboaril,  the  prototype  of 
the  modern  buffet,  or  sideboard;  the  food 
lockers  or  "dole  cupboards,"  used  during 
the  Middle  Ages;  the  "armoire"  or  ward- 
robe;   the    "court    cupboard,"    introduced 

■i(it) 


John  L.  Gai"dner's  Venetian  Palace  in  Bos- 
ton. It  is  a  Florentine  marriage  coffer  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  gilded  all  over  and 
further  ornamented  with  paintings. 

The  oldest  coffers  showing  traces  of 
decorative  carvings  are  to  be  found  in  Kent, 
Sussex  and  Surrey  Churches,  England. 
The  carving  was  first  introduced  on  the 
panels,  in  the  sjjaces  between  the  framings ; 
while  the  framings  themselves  were  grooved 
or  scratched  in  the  shape  of  moldings.  An 
example  of  this  type,  which  was  brought 
over  by  the  early  settlers,  is  shown  in  the 
illustration.  It  is  now  in  the  possession  of 
I'^^x-Govcrnor  Dyer  of  Rhode  Island,  and  is 
said  to  have  held  the  clothing  of  his  ances- 
tor, Roger  Williams,  the  founder  of  Rhode 
Island  and  Providence  Plantations. 

I\Iost  of  the  old  chests  were  made  of  oak, 
which  was  universally  used  throughout 
Europe;  and  as  the  artisans  grew  in  skill, 
thev  wei'e  embellished  more  and  more,  with 
most  elaborate  carvings.     In  the  finer  chests 


CHESTS    AM)    C  A  HI  NETS 


of  the  earlier  part  of  the  seventeenth  century 
there  are  deeply  cut  moldinf^s,  recessed 
panels,  arches,  and  pilasters,  with  the  inter- 
vening spaces  carved  in  figures  after 
1-leniish  models,  or  bcautifidly  inlaid 
with  pear,  holh',  and  bog  oak.  Additional 
value  and  interest  was  given  to  these 
specimens  by  having  the  initials  of  the  first 
owner  and  a  date  carved  on  the  rail  under 
tlie  lid. 

Little  of  this  carved  oak  furniture  of  tlie 
jieriod  before  or  after  the  seventeenth 
century  is  now  to  be  found  b}'  the  collector. 
The  importation  of  mahogany  from  the 
West  Indies  finally  did  away  with  the  use 
of  old  oak,  and  many  a  costly  chest  and 
cabinet  found  its  way  from  mansion  to 
cottage  to  make  way  for  tlie  new  wood. 
Indeed,  no  other  articles  of  ancient  domestic 
furniture  were  so  common  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  as  these  oak  chests. 
•\lmost  every  household  pos- 
sessed several. 

During    the    Middle    Ages 
chests  of  cypress  wood  were 
imported    in    which    to    store 
tapestry    and    woolen    goods. 
These     Italian     chests     were 
elaborately  carved  or  painted. 
They     liad     short      legs     to 
lift     them     from     the     floor, 
or     they     were     placed     on 
a   sort   of   dais   covered   with 
beautiful  pieces  of  brocade  or    r 
velvet.     They  were  presented    t 
to  the  daughters  of  a  house  to 
be    used    as    wedding    coffers. 
One  of  them,  shown  in  the  illustration,  is 
now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  H.  Anthony 
Dyer,  the  artist,  of  Providence.      It  is  of 
the  fifteenth   or  sixteenth   century,   a   fine 


specimen  made  of  old  walnut,  black  with 
age,  and  beautifully  carved  in  convention- 
alized fruit  and  flower  design  after  the 
Italian  Renascence.  It  is  further  embel- 
lished with  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  family 
to  which  it  belonged.  It  was  found  by  its 
present  owner  in  an  old  curiosity  shop  in 
Home,  where  the  possessions  from  the  palace 
of  some  Italian  noble  had  been  placed  for 
sale. 

The  Spanish  chest  of  tiie  fifteenth  cent- 
tury  was  a  sort  of  chest  and  cabinet  com- 
bined, of  semi-Moresque  design  and  orna- 
mentation. Kxami^lcs  of  this  type  are  very 
rare.  The  present  owners  of  the  one  rep- 
resented in  the  illustration  know  of  but  one 
other  of  the  kind  in  this  country.  This  sec- 
ond cabinet  was  in  James  Russell  Lowell's 
old  house,  and  a  picture  of  it  is  to  be  found 
in  Edward  Everett  Ilale's  life  of  the  author. 


.\  irnnU'rii  KiDir  Artliur  t'lu•^t 

The  Hispano-Morcsque  cabinet  repre- 
sented is  owned  b}'  Mr.  Charles  Mattack, 
of  IJoston.  wlio  discovered  it  in  Madrid  some 
years  ago.      It  is  of  old  oak  with  a  heavy 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


lid  wliicli  forms  the  face  of  tlie  upper  part 
wlicn  tlie  cal)inct  is  closed,  and  a  writing 
table  when  it  is  let  down.  The  upper  half 
of  the  cabinet  thus  disclosed  has  an  elab- 
orate arran<;enient  of  little  drawers  and 
cupboards,  and  is  beautifully  carved  and 
ornamented,  and  the  miniature  Moorish 
arches  and  pillars  are  overlaid  with  gold 
leaf  which  is  still  untarnished.  When  the 
cabinet  is  closed,  the  face  of  the  lid  is  seen 
to  be  ornamented  with  designs  in  wrought 
iron  over  rich  crimson  velvet. 

The  manner  of  using  openwork  patterns 
in  iron  over  red  cloth  or  velvet  is  said  to 
have  been  first  used  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  The  iron  ornaments  on  this  cab- 
inet were  originally  overlaid  with  gold  leaf, 
of  wliich  some  traces  still  remain.  The  old 
lock  is  in  the  centre  ornament,  and  there  is 
a  great  wrought  iron  key.  The  lower  half 
of  the  cabinet  is  divided  into  larger  com- 
partments, and  the  face  of  it  is  inlaid  in  old 
ivory  and  painted  wood  in  red  and  black,  in 
geometrical  design. 

Another  remarkably  fine  specimen,  owned 
by  a  well  known  collector  in  New  England 
is  the  Russian  iron  treasure  chest  shown  in 
the  illiisti-ation.  It  is  a  wonderful  example 
of  the  woi'k  of  the  artist-craftsman  of  Rus- 
sia, or  perhaps  of  Germany,  with  its  com- 
plicated spring  lock,  its  grill  work,  its 
scutcheons  and  key,  and  carved  bands  and 
ornaments,  all  hand  wrought  in  the  most 
exquisite  fashion.  It  was  evidently  made  to 
carry  the  treasure  of  some  grandee  back  and 
forth,  and  is  fitted  up  with  broad  iron  bands 
and  hajis  and  padlocks, and  heavy  iron  rings 
and  handles  by  which  it  might  be  lifted.  It 
weighs  (Hie  hundred  thirty  pounds.  There 
are  also  holes  in  the  bottom  so  that  it  might 
be  screwed  to  the  deck  when  on  shipboard. 

268 


On  the  cover  is  an  elaborate  crest  of  double 
eagle,  sword  and  sceptre,  exquisitely 
wrought,  in  the  most  delicate  and  intricate 
ornamental  fashion.  The  great  iron  key 
is  also  curiously  wrought,  and  the  machin- 
ery of  the  spring  lock  occupies  the  entire 
inner  space  of  the  cover,  locking  in  twelve 
places.  This  machinery  is  covered  with  a 
beautiful  piece  of  grill  work.  The  columns 
on  the  corners  are  carved,  as  are  the  han- 
dles on  the  ends,  which  are  also  surrounded 
with  ornamentation.  The  front  is  similar- 
ly ornamented,  and  here  are  two  great  iron 
rings.  The  back  is  a  replica  of  the  front, 
and  the  top  and  sides  are  further  embel- 
lished with  ilelicatoly  wrought  ornament. 
Its  present  owner  asserts  that  it  is  two  or 
three  hundred  years  old,  and  it  is  probably 
of  even  greater  antiquity. 

In  Northamptonshire,  England,  there  is 
a  very  ancient  coffer  bound  with  iron  work, 
which  is  supposed  to  belong  to  the  twelfth 
century.  This  iron  treasure  chest  prob- 
ably dates  from  somewhere  near  this  period, 
though  I  have  not  been  able  to  fix  the  date. 

The  plain  ironbound  coffers  arc  of  great 
antiquity,  but  the  best  authorities  claim  that 
those  with  locks  could  hardly  have  been 
made  before  the  latter  part  of  the  four- 
teenth century.  Carved  treasure  chests 
covered  with  ironwork  were  manufactured 
in  Germany  during  the  fifteenth  century ; 
and  according  to  Mr.  Roe,  there  is  a  strong 
box  in  Cawdor  Castle  in  which  it  is  said 
that  the  Thane  William  transported  his 
treasure  when  the  castle  was  built  in  the 
middle  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Another 
strong  box  is  said  to  have  served  as  the 
travelling  coffer  of  Edward  III  of  England. 

]\Iuch  of  romance  and  history  is  con- 
nected   with    these    ancient    chests ;    and 


RUSSIAN    IKON     ri'J-.ASlHK    CIIKST 


j(>!) 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


those  who  are  fortunate  enougli  to  own  one. 
regard  it  as  among  their  most  precious 
possessions. 

The  fashion  to  hark  back  to  earlier  tlaj's, 
not  only  for  itleas  in  decoration,  but  also 
for  furniture  itself,  is  one  of  the  causes  of 
the  recent  revival  of  the  chest.  Many  fine 
specimens  are  turned  out  by  the  modern 
artist  craftsman.      One  of  these,  which  was 


Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  Launcelot, 
Galahad,  Gawain,  Bors,  etc.,  are  carved  on 
tlic  ends.  The  shields  are  painted  in 
enamels. 

Another  modern  specimen  of  unique  in- 
terest, is  the  beautifully  carved  chest  from 
the  Philippines.  It  was  brought  home  by 
an  officer  who  was  stationed  at  Manila  dur- 
u\a  the  late  war.      It   is  in  two  shades  of 


.\  Filil»ino 


rvcd  clH'st.  (iwntd  liy  C'ol.  Dyer. 


designed  by  Mr.  Sidnev  R.  Burleigh,  a  mahogany,  beautifully  carved  on  the  top 
Rhode  Island  artist  and  carved  bv  Miss  and  sides.  The  work  was  done  by  hand 
Mauran,  an  expert  in  this  line,  is  also  by  the  Filipinos,  who  hold  the  piece  of  fur- 
shown.  It  is  known  as  the  "King  Arthui""  niture  between  their  feet  while  they  work. 
chest,  and  has  panels  carved  in  relief  with  It  is  an  exquisite  piece  of  workmanship  and 
the  Pendragon  in  the  centre  of  the  front  is  evidence  of  the  degree  of  artistic  excel- 
panel,  and  the  heads  of  Arthur  and  Guine-  lence  attained  by  these  supposedly  semi- 
vere  on  either  side  of  it.      The  arms  of  the  civilized  peoples. 

270  . 


WORK    OF    IJOI^KKT    .lAKVIE 


A 


N     ArPHECIATION     OF     THE 
WOHK  OF  ROBERT  JARVIE. 


To  the  true  student  tlie  more 
difficult  the  task  of"  obtaining  knowledge  on 
any  subject,  the  more  interesting  and  dili- 
gent becomes  the  pursuit.  The  task  of 
discovering  any  authentic  and  connected 
information  relating  to  the  history  of  the 
lighting  of  homes  and  public  buildings  is 
most  difficult.  Practically'  nothing  impor- 
tant concerning  it  lias  been  written  in  Eng- 
lish,  and  those  who  would  know  more  of  the 
means  used  by  the  ancients  and  by  our  own 
ancestors  to  dispel  the  shades  of  darkness, 
have  been  obliged  to  content  thmeselves  with 
stories  of  ancient  times,  pictures  of  primi- 
tive interiors,  stray  articles  concerning  the 
customs  of  our  forefathers,  and  the  few 
genuine  relics  which  have  re- 
mained. 

Mr.  Robert  Jarvie,  of  Chi- 
cago, became  interested  in  this 
study  almost  by  accident. 
Although  a  business  man,  he 
possesses  a  strong  artistic  im- 
pulse; from  his  boyhood  he 
has  been  fond  of  "making 
things,"  and  has  devoted  much 
time  to  various  forms  of  art: 
— cabinet  making,  pen  and 
ink  sketches,  and  book  bind- 
ing, in  a  desultory  way.  He 
chanced  one  day  into  the  an- 
tique shoj)  of  a  friend  who 
asked  him  where  an  iron  lan- 
tern might  be  found, — one 
with  horn  lights  like  the  old 
Dutch  lanterns.  Without 
hesitation  he  replied  that  he 
could  get  one  made,  and  would 


design  it  from  an  old  cut.  There  was  no 
iloubt  in  his  mind  that  to  get  a  simple  iron 
frame  made  would  be  an  easy  matter,  and 
horn, — were  not  thousands  of  cattle  slain 
each  day  at  the  Stock  Yards  .^ — surely  they 
could  be  had  in  abundance.  An  old  Hol- 
lander was  found  whose  confidence  in  his 
own  ability  to  make  a  Dutch  lantern  was 
unbounded.  Fie  received  the  order,  and  Mr. 
Jarvie  hurried  away  for  the  horn.  He 
found  horns  in  abundance,  but  horns  just  off 
the  liead  are  far  from  being  nicely  polished 
pieces  for  lantern  lights.  He  bought  sever- 
al specimens,  however,  and  took  them  home, 
but  after  a  few  sad  experiments  gave  up 
his  attempts  to  cut  and  polish  this  very  raw 
material.  His  discouragement  was  further 
enlianced  by  a  visit  to  the  old  Dutchman, 
whose  idea  of  a  lantern   was   far  removed 


Ir-iji  irrfa«>i'  lump.  iHTiml  IWK) 


J71 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


from  the  one  entertained  by  Mr.  Jarvie, 
and  wlio,  unfortunately,  was  one  of  those 
jjersons  not  amenable  to  criticism. 

Determined  to  succeed — being  a  Scotch- 
man— Mr.  Jarvie  purchased  sheet  iron  and 
rivets,  and  at  a  temporary  ^\'ork  bencli  set 


I'cttiiM.at  lamp:    tilr;   lH-ri<"I  ISOU 

11])  in  one  corner  of  the  dining-room  of  liis 
a]>artment,  liegan  his  serious  work  as  a 
craftsman.  Only  the  angels  who  hover 
about  the  earnest  arts  and  crafts  workers 
can  tell  wiiy  he  was  not  driven  fortii  from 
that  building  by  the  irate  tenants  below, 
27'.' 


when  nightly  tlie  sound  of  his  liammer  was 
persistently  heard.  After  much  difficulty, 
he  succeeded  in  getting  Hat  pieces  of  pol- 
ished horn  which  he  bent  himself.  At  last, 
the  lantern  stood  before  him  complete, — as 
shown  in  illustration — and  it  soon  hung  in 
front  of  his  friend's  shop. 

The  making  of  this  lantern 
not  only  revealed  to  Mr.  Jar- 
vie his  ability  to  do  good  work 
in  metal,  but  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  interior  illumination. 
He  began  to  haunt  libraries, 
art  galleries  and  antique 
shops  in  an  endeavor  to  dis- 
cover the  history  of  this  most 
interesting  subject,  from  tlie 
fires  lighted  on  the  domestic 
altars  of  the  ancients, — 
which  served  for  illumination 
as  well  as  religious  observance 
• — and  the  blazing  pine  torch- 
es thrust  into  the  clay  walls 
of  the  primitive  log  cabins  of 
our  own  country  to  the  deli- 
cately shaped  modern  elec- 
troliers. He  has  succeeded 
so  well  that  he  expects  soon  to 
publish  tlie  results  of  his  re- 
searches. In  his  workshop 
may  be  seen  an  interesting 
collection  of  American  lamps, 
from  the  queer  little  iron 
grease  lamps  of  the  sixteenth 
century  to  the  modern  kero- 
sene oil  lamps. 

One  blessing  which  the  taste  for  "old 
things"  has  brought  lies  in  the  more  artistic 
lighting  of  our  homes ;  for  in  place  of  the 
high,  flaring  gas  jets  and  glaring  electric 
bulbs  we  mav  now  have  the  mellow  light  of 


"^S^^^^ll 

■■.  -fx-jmtgw 

-'  '-t"^!! 

^iT 

*,    '  > 

--'■^^ 

■■-■-a 

M 

» 

«-  ■"•«. 

^^           MM 

■\~iM 

^^■1 

VIM 

9PI 

tn^Tm 

WORK    OF    KOHKKT    JAUVIE 


candles  and  of  lamps  practically,  as  well  as      hu  designed  and  made  a  brass  candlestick. 


artistically  shaded.      \Ve  may  have  even  the 


Its  success  was  so  great  that  others  soon  fol- 
lowed, and  ]\Ir.  Jarvie  earned  for  himself 
the  sobriquet  of  "'riie  Candlestickmaker." 
Nearly  all  this  work  is  of  cast  brass  or  cop- 
per, brush  polished,  a  process  which  leaves  the 
metal  with  a  dull  glow.  Some  pieces  are  cast 
in  bronze  and  their  unpolished  surfaces  are 
treated  with  acids  w  hicli  produce  an  e.\(juisitc 
anti(jue  green  finish.  'J'here  is  also  a  quaint 
design  in  spun  brass:  a  low  candlestick 
with  a  handle,  quite  different  from  the  tall 
ones.  The  charm  of  these  candlesticks  is 
in  their  simplicity  and  purity  of  form.  The 
graceful  outlines  /uul  soft  lustre  of  the 
unembellished     metal     combine    to    produce 


Diifli  Imiteni.  iron  with   linru  lielits 

ijayberry  candles  with  their  faint  green 
tinge  and  delightful  fragrance  so  cher- 
ished by  pioneer  housewives,  the  making  of 
which  craftswomen  in  the  East  have  re- 
vived. But  .Mr.  Jarvie  was  not  satisfied  with 
the  modern  candlesticks  he  found  in  the 
shops,  and  following  his  custom  of  making  dignity  as  well  as  beauty,  and  the  possessor 
for  himself  what  he  cannot  find  elsewhere,      of  one  of  the  Jarvie  candlesticks  must  feel 


L'liuilk'stick:    spun  Uriisr,.  ti  inrlifs  liiirli 


i73 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


that   nothing   tawdry   or   frivolous   can   be 
placed  by  its  side. 

While  most  of  Mr.  Jarvie's  productions 


and  design  and  make  for  it  a  shade,  not  only 
artistic  and  harmonious,  but  practical  as 
well.  The  material  for  these  shades  is 
opalescent  glass,  put  together  with  narrow 
copper  strips  or  fine  lead.  One  has  but  to 
visit  the  department  and  even  the  so-called 
art  stores  crowded  with  impossible  creations 


Slum  Iti'ass,   ]:{  iiicln-s   liiirh 


Iron  laiitt-ni  with  li'ini  liglits 


are  candlesticks,  his  greatest  personal  inter- 
est is  in  lamps  and  lamp  shades,  and  nothing 
delights  him  more  than  to  discover  a  suit- 
able vase  or  jar,  to  convert  it  into  a  lamp, 


of  metal,  gauze,  silk,  beads  and  paper,  in 
order  to  appreciate  the  quiet  but  satisfying 
beauty  of  ]\Ir.  Jarvie's  lampshades. 

The  motive  in  all  Mr.  Jarvie's  work  is 


i15 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


utility  iind  simple  beauty  rather  than  a 
striving  for  striking  effects.  He  believes 
that  a  candlestick  is  not  the  place  for  the 
display  of  the  iiuinan   form,  and  that  sea 


I  :nidh'sticks:  brusli  tiiiislii'il  liniss 

shells  and  mushrooms  should  be  viewed  in 
their  native  element  rather  than  as  shades 
for  lamps. 


H 


INGHAM  ARTS  AND 
CRAFTS.  THEIR  AIMS 
AND  OBJECTS.  BY  C. 
CHESTER   LANE. 


The  Hingham  Society  of  Arts  and 
Crafts  was  organized  two  years  ago.  Its 
object  is  "to  promote  artistic  work  in  all 
branches  of  handicraft.  It  hopes  to  bring 
designers  and  workmen  into  mutually  help- 
ful relations,  and  to  encourage  workmen  to 
execute  designs  of  their  own.  It  endeavors 
to  stimulate  an  appreciation  of  the  dignity 
and  value  of  good  design,  and  to  establish 


a  medium  of  exchange  between  the  producer 

and  the  consumer."* 

'I'he  movement  started  among  a  few  peo- 

])le  who  realized  the  possibilities  of  indus- 
trial development  in  the  old 
town.  Hingham  was  one  of 
the  earliest  settled  points  on 
the  Massachusetts  coast,  and 

fis  rich  in  historical  associa- 
tions. The  early  inhabitants 
were  industrious,  intelligent, 
and  well-to-do.  They  brought 
with  them  from  the  mother 
country  not  only  a  knowledge 
of  farming,  but  also  a  fair 
proficiency  in  the  mechanical 
arts.  As  time  went  on,  spe- 
cial lines  of  industry  came 
into  prominence,  and  Hing- 
ham manufactures  were  wide- 
ly known  and  widely  used. 
The  Hingham  bucket  was  es- 
pecially famous  and  found  its 
way  into  almost  every  household  in  New 
pjUgland. 

Other  manufactures  were  more  or  less 
successful,  but  the  perfecting  of  machinery 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century 
threw  nuich  of  the  costlier  handmade  pro- 
duct out  of  the  market.  America  has  had 
her  Dark  Ages  of  workmanship  and  de- 
sign, when  houses  were  filled  with  ugly,  ill- 
made  furniture  and  crude  decorations.  The 
ginger  jars  and  drain  pipes  covered  with 
gaudv  pictures  and  varnished  with  a  heavy 
glaze,  the  viacrcniu-  lambrequins  which  hid 
the  beautiful  lines  of  colonial  mantelpieces, 
the  sideboards  and  rocking-chairs  with  no 
semblance  of  beauty   or  usefulness :  these, 

*From  the  circular  issued  by  the  Society  of  Arts 
and  Crafts,  Hingham,  Mass. 


2T6 


IIlXC;iIA.M    ARTS    AND    CKAITS 


liappily,  are  things  of  the  past.  And  with 
the  hifrhcr  ideals,  came  a  revival  of  interest 
in  domestic  handicraft.  Bits  of  old  needle- 
work and  embroidery  were  brought  down 
from  dusty  attics  for  admiration  and  imita- 
tion. Chairs  and  tables,  of  exquisite  de- 
sign and  honest  purpose,  took  the  place  of 
flimsy  and  over-decorated  furniture,  llnnil- 
mado  articles  began  to  have  a  new  value 
and  significance  in  the  face  of  so  much  that 
was  cheaj)  and  worthless.  At  the  opening 
of  the  twentieth  century,  public  interest 
was  thoroughly  aroused  in  more  than  one 
locality,  by  what  had  been  accomplished 
among  a  few  earnest  workers.  Tlio  little 
town  of  Deerfield,  in  the  western  part  of 
^lassachusetts,  offered  for  exhibition  ex- 
quisite baskets,  attractive  rugs,  and  beauti- 
ful embroidery,  in  proof  that  a  revival  of 
these  once  famous  industries  was  practica- 
ble, and  there  were  those  who  were  convinced 
that  in  Hingham  lay  similar  possibilities. 

The  feeling  gradually  gained  ground, 
until  in  November.  1901,  it  took  shape  in 
the  formation  of  the  Hingham  Society  of 
Arts  and  Crafts.  The  management  of  the 
now  society  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  a 
council  of  fifteen  persons,  whose  decisions 
relate  to  membership,  general  aims,  and  all 
financial  questions.  This  council  includes 
the  president,  secretary,  and  treasurer,  which 
officers  the  council  elects  annually. 

Each  handicraft  is  under  the  charge  of 
a  special  committee,  and  each  committee  is 
represented  in  the  council  by  at  least  one 
member,  usually  by  the  chairman.  In  this 
way.  the  council  exercises  such  an  over- 
sight of  the  sub-committees  as  to  insure  the 
smooth  and  harmonious  advancement  of  the 
dierent  branches  of  the  work. 

The  Deerfield  Society  organized  after  the 


various  industries  were  well  started.  The 
Hingham  Society  began  with  its  organiza- 
tion, and  felt  its  way  gradually  along  the 
(littVroiit  avenues  of  work  which  were  open 
to  it.  The  members  owned  frankly  that  it 
was  an  experiment,  but  two  years  of  grow- 
ing usefulness  have  justified  their  faith. 

It  was  determined  that  a  high  standard 
of  excellence  should  be  set  up,  and  onlj' 
those  products  are  offered  for  sale  which 
receive  the  approbation  of  the  committee. 


Hiirncd-ri'iMl  Imvki-i 

The  aim  of  the  Society  has  not  been  merely 
to  establish  a  market  for  salable  goods. 
Many  articles  would  find  a  readv  sale  which 
are  not  within  the  scoj)e  of  such  an  asso- 
ciation. Nor  is  it  a  philanthropic  institu- 
tion, and  while  it  endeavors  to  help  crafts- 
men to  find  a  market  for  their  goods,  it  does 
not  hesitate  to  reject  inferior  or  inartistic 
productions. 

This  was  a  point  which  at  first  there  was 
some    difficulty     in     making    plain.      If    a 


.'77 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


worker  made  a  rug  or  a  basket  wliich  she 
was  confident  would  sell,  slie  could  not  un- 
derstand why  the  connnittee  sliould  reject 
it.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a  needy  and 
deserving  person  offered  inferior  or  unsuit- 
able work,  it  was  not  always  easy  to  make 
the  decisions  seem  just  and  equitable.  These 
problems,  however,  are  working  out  their 
own  solutions,  and  the  judgments  of  the 
committees  are  regarded  with  greater  con- 


Mrginia,  by  invitation  of  that  institution, 
and  there  gave  a  course  of  lectures  and 
demonstrations  on  the  art  of  vegetable  dye- 
ing. It  was  only  after  much  experiment- 
ing and  painstaking  effort  that  a  process 
was  discovered  by  which  these  desirable 
shades  arc  produced,  and  the  achievement 
deserves  full  recognition. 

The  making  of  baskets  was  one  of  the 
first  of  the  various  activities  in  which  the 


Katli:!   I^^^l<,•l^,   iiKil.  ali.l    pahii-li^ir  ha>krl 


fidence    and    resj)ect    as    time    proves    their 
value. 

The  association  in  Hingham  is  still  too 
young  to  have  developed  very  many  suc- 
cessful branches  of  industry,  but  it  feels 
just  pride  in  what  it  has  accomplished. 
One  of  the  most  important  of  its  branches 
has  been  the  making  of  vegetable  dyes. 
Raffia  in  soft,  durable  colors  is  offered  in 
a  dozen  accepted  shades,  and  fabrics  for 
rugs  or  embroideries  are  d3'ed  to  order.  The 
official  dyer  went  last  autunm  to  Hampton, 


society  is  now  engaged.  For  this  purpose 
reed,  burned-reed,  palm  leaf,  and  raffia  are 
used.  Of  these  baskets,  those  made  from 
burned-reed  are  by  far  the  most  artistic, 
being  unique  and  singularly  rich  in  color- 
ing and  design.  The  raffia  baskets  are 
colored  with  the  vegetable  dyes  and  give 
very  pleasing  effects.  This  industry  offers 
great  scope  for  individual  and  original 
work,  as  has  been  amply  shown  at  the  exhi- 
bitions held  each  August  by  the  Society. 
Much  attention  has  been  given  to  form,  as 


HlXGllA.M    ARTS    AM)    CRAFTS 


lotliinr 


clotlung.  Bead  work, — in  woven  clmins, 
bags,  necklaces,  card  cases,  belts,  fobs,  etc., 
— presents  great  variety  of  coloring  and 
tlesign.  Candles,  made  of  bayberry  wax, 
are  in  demand,  and  for  tliese  large  orders 


well   as   to   coloring   and   design,   and   tlie 
results  are  liighly  creditable. 

The  manufacture  of  rag  rugs  has  pre- 
sented more  than  the  usual  number  of  diffi- 
culties.     The  unattractiveness  of  the  work 
and    the    limitations    imposed 
by    the    material    have    been 
great  obstacles  to  the  artistic 
results  desired  by  the  Society. 
By  proper  effort,  however,  it 
is     possible     to     make     rugs 
wliich     are     light,     dui-able. 
cleanl}-,     and     of     attractive 
coloring.     Here     again     tlic 
vegetable  dyes  come  into  pla\ . 
and  the  rugs  may  be  made  in 
any  color  scheme  desired. 

The  workers  in  embroidery 
have  tried  to  revive  the  old 
needlework  of  colonial  davs. 
adapting  the  designs  to  mod- 
ern uses  and  convenience. 
Original  designs  of  great 
beauty  are  also  furnished,  and 
deserve  much  praise.  Bed 
spreads,  table  covers,  bags, 
and  center  pieces  have  gone 
far  to  establish  the  deftness 
and  industry  of  our  modern 
needlewomen.  The  old-time 
netting  and  fringes,  made  bv 
several  members  of  the  Soci- 
ety, prove  as  popular  now  as 
in  the  days  of  our  grand- 
mothers, who  also  appreciated 
daintiness  and  durability.  The  accompany-  have  been  filled.  These  "bayberry  dips" 
ing  illustrations  show   the  quality   of  the      are  a  delicate  green  in  color,  and  give  out 


Xittid  friiiKi's  ami  luiit 


work  done. 

Spinning  and  weaving  have  only  lately 
been  undertaken,  but  fabrics  of  great  prom- 
inence  are    produced   for   embroidery    and 


a  faint,  pleasing  fragrance. 

Cabinet  work  represents  one  of  the  most 
interesting  phases  of  the  Society's  activity. 
In   this   department,   beside  artistic   furni- 

279 


■,:,M 


^-'4^ 


1    <,  "'.•••.  -^- 


"•■•■t> -.•■." 


•vf'''MtSf^^^ 


J- 


K.MBKOIDKKV   AND   NETTED   FRINGES 


i.'8(l 


HIXGllAM    ARTS    AND    CHAirs 


ture,  old-fasliionod  buckets,  tubs,  cliurns, 
and  piggins  are  made.  Great  iiigeiuiitv 
lias  been  sliown  in  the  manufacture  of  tins, 
and  tin}-  buckets  and  ne-sts  of  boxes,  sucli  as 
delighted  the  liearts  of  children  half  a  cent- 
ury ago,  have  been  successfully  reproduced. 

One  of  the  members  of  the  Society  has 
done  excellent  work  in  iron ; 
and  another  has  produced 
beautiful  effects  in  copper  and 
silver.  Doubtless,  as  time  goes 
on,  new  lines  of  activity  will 
develop,  and  other  talents  will 
provetobelatent  in  the  Society. 

It  is  frequently  asked: 
What  is  the  financial  basis  of 
the  Society,  and  what  is  done 
with  its  profits.'  The  whole 
arrangement  is  a  very  simple 
one.  Whether  or  not  it  proves 
to  be  permanent,  depends 
upon  various  circumstances, 
but,  at  present,  this  is  the 
plan  upon  which  the  Society 
conducts  its  business.  Every 
article, before  it  can  be  marked 
with  the  Society's  stamp, —  .i 
Hingham  bucket, — nmst  be 
brought  before  a  committee 
qualified  to  judge  of  its  artis- 
tic excellence  and  its  satisfac 
tory  workmanship.  The  pric( 
is  then  fixed,  and,  in  most 
cases,  the  article  i.s  put  on  sali 
at  the  annual  exbibition.  Tin 
money  paid  for  it  goes  to  the 
worker;  the  Society,  at  present,  asking  no 
commission.  The  running  expenses  are  met 
by  the  admission  fees  to  the  exhibition,  as 
well  as  by  those  to  the  Society  itself.  The 
latter  are  not  annual  dues,  and  as  by  this 


time,  a  great  lunnber  of  the  capable  towns- 
folk are  already  eiu'olled  as  members,  it  is 
possible  that  a  commission  may  eventually  be 
charged  to  defray  the  many  small  expenses. 
Kven  the  most  skeptical,  however, are  by  this 
time  convinced  of  the  unselfish  quality  of 
the  Society's  interest  in  the  movement.      It 


is  always  the  work,  and  not  the  organization, 
that  is  looked  upon  as  most  important.  Tliis 
feeling  has  made  it  possii)le  for  the  Society 
to  attain  signal  successes,  and  will  pave  tiie 
way  to  still  more  worthy  achievements. 

2KI 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Friuzt.-  with  chiiia-ball-trce  motif 


A 


RT    NEEDLEWORK    IN 
CO.AIB  COLLEGE. 


NEW- 


Ec'oxojiic.s  are  involved  in  tlic 
effort  to  produce  a  liarmonious  relation 
between  art-scjiool  standards  and  a  pur- 
chasing appreciation  from  the  public.  The 
problem  in  art  needlework  is  to  combine  the 
merits  of  excellent  color  and  designs  with 


l>fsjtjrii 


irowii  Ikuiicsiuiii  in  fjrcoji.  jiohl  and  Iplark 
t'V  Lillian  (iusdrv 


durable  materials  and  stitching;  rather 
than  to  achieve  wonderful  execution,  show- 
ing perfection  in  difficult  and  elaborate 
combinations.  Abandoning  the  popular 
idea  that  the  chief  attraction  in  work  lies 
in  the  hope  of  earnings,  yet  holding  that 
art  ideas  cannot  be  truly  separated  from  ab- 
solute utility,  we  must  always  recognize  the 
dignity  of  the  worker  who  feels  a  pride  in 
making  beautiful  every  work  of  his  hands. 

The  real  artist  delights  to  become  the 
craftsman.  The  craftsman  finds  his  keen- 
est joy  in  work  which  appeals  to  the  artist 
within  him. 

It  has  been  decided  by  the  Art  Depart- 
ment of  Newcomb  College  that  a  student  of 
ability  liavinghad  four  years' training  in  its 
courses  in  drawing,  color  and  design,  must 
l)c  })romise'd  some  definite  remunerative  re- 
sult.     Teaching  is,  of  course,  always  open 


28> 


NEEDLEWORK 


to  those  wlio  are  by  nature  qualified  to  follow 
it.  For  the  majority  who  prefer  studio  occu- 
pation, the  pottery,  already  mentioned  in  this 
.Magazine,  was  installed.  It  is  now  an  ac- 
complished factor,  artistically  and  econom- 
ically, operated  on  the  college  grounds,  by 
workers  trained  in  the  Art  Department. 
Two  j-ears  ago  the  opportunity  for  wider 
choice  in  the  application  of  art  was  made 
possible,  by  the  formation  of  a  needlework 
class,  meeting  the  needs  of  those  whose  per- 
sonal interest  in  that  art  gave  promise  of 
important  developments.  What  could  be 
more  natural  for  a  school  of  artist  women  .^ 
The  comparative  ease  with  which  the  small 
necessary  equipment  is  controlled  em])hasizcs 
the  freedom  and  independence  of  the  pro- 
ducer, thereby  adding  happiness  to  the  labor. 


Wall  }i!mtriii;r 

It  is  the  variety  of  materials  used,  to- 
gether with  this  scope  for  individual  crea- 
tion, that  enables  needle-craft  to  take  its 
high  place  among  the  so-called  lesser  arts. 


.\|>|j|ii]iu-  for  cliuiiirt-  "I   Ifxllin' 


^h:{ 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


FrtM*  virif  of  ^ititclit's  iiii<l  l>rr»k('il  color 


The  cluinii  of  the  older  embroideries  never 
fails.  Is  it  not  bccuuse  they  have  some- 
thing to  say  P  We  recognize  in  even  their 
simj^lest  forms  of  expression  an  excellence 
rej^lete  witli  sentiment  and  sincerity.  The 
rambling,  often  iniequal  treatment  of  sur- 
face, shows  joy  and  ])ride  of  personality. 
The  paralysis  of  imitation  did  not  cripple 
the  mind  which  elected  a  change  of  coloring 
at  intervals  in  the  rejx'tition.  nor  was  stag- 
nation possible  where  natural  forms  were 
controlled  in  design  s])acings,  as  freely  as 
notes  in  a  musical  scale. 

It  is  upon  the  excellence  of  design  that  than  an  aggregation  of  conventional  forms ; 
Newcomb  especially  builds  its  school  of  that  it  represent  the  ego  of  the  period  in 
needlework.  It  recognizes  that  nature  alone  mIucIi  it  is  created,  as  well  as  that  of  the 
initiates.      It   asks   that   ornament   be   more      creator.      A  satisfactory  result  presupposes 

sane  and  intelligent  discrimi- 
nation among  wide  tradi- 
tions, and  ability  to  adajit 
those  natural  forms  which 
loving  and  intimate  associa- 
tion have  made  most  familiar, 
to  materials  which  combine 
use  and  beauty.  There  can 
i)e  no  real  fixity  of  design  or 
treatTnent  in  work  that  is 
|iro(hice(l  by  hand.  It  is  j)os- 
sible  and  often  desirable  to 
make  changes  as  the  work 
])roceeds,  and  the  best  results 
are  often  those  in  which  de- 
tails have  evolved  themselves 
in  the  general  progression. 
This  freedom  in  individual 
expression  keeps  the  artistic 
instinct  ever  on  the  alert. 

Sj)ecial  endeavor  is  made  to 
select  stuffs  of  sound  quality 
and  good  color.  Native  cot- 
tons,    from    which     nnich    is 


Wnll-liaiiiriui;:  crepe-iiiyrtle-trt'e  mntif  spun,  woven  and  di'signi'd 
l>y  (i.  R.  Smith 


9H4. 


XEKDLKWOKK 


Oesigrned  and  execiite<i  by  ^I.  Dclavi^ne 


expected,  are  used,  as  well  as 
linen  and  rough  silks.  Diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  these  with 
unequal  weaves  which  lend 
themselves  to  varying  treat- 
ment, suggested  the  use  of  the 
loom,  and  of  such  simple  dyes 
as  Ilati^■e  vegetable  matter  af- 
fords. 

In  the  wall  hanging  shown 
the  material,  woven  by  the 
same  hand  that  planned  and 
carried  out  the  design,  plaj's 
perfectly  into  the  crepe-myr- 
tle-tree motif.  Fabric  and  de- 
sign are  as  much  a  part  each 
of  the  other,  as  if  the  hanging 
were  tapestry ;  while  interest 
in  the  fabric  has  been  pre- 
.served  by  restrained  treatment  of  the  sub-  adjustment  of  materials  that  we  see  the 
ject,  unusual  richness  is  given  bj'  the  use  tiioughtfulness  of  the  workers.  In  their 
of  broken  color.  Much  really  valuable  ex-  skilfiil  hands,  each  design  becomes  indi- 
periment  has  been  carried  on  in  this  use  vidual  and  unique.  Planned  for  its  best 
of  silks,  without  in  any  way  transcending  service,  however  simple,  it  is  recognized  as 
the  inevitable  limitations  of  cloth  and  a  creation ;  and  the  signature  of  the  creator 
threads.      Indeed,  it  is  in  a  fine,  harmonious      is  stitched  into  the  design,  as  well   as  the 

mark  of  college  a])j)robation, 
\.  T.  X. 

In  the  magnolia  motif  wall 
li-mging  is  shown  one  of  the 
t  r((jn(iit  uses  of  a])plied  tex- 
lili^.  Here  the  quiet  over- 
tones of  greens  and  greys 
'  ive  been  sligiitly  reinforced 
I'V  stitching. 

The  china-ball-trif  motif 
shows  a  very  satisfactory  ar- 
rangement of  the  design  for 
]tractical   use  as  wall   protec- 

Wall-haneini:  with  matmolia  molif.  appliiiiie  of  imiet  crt-i-im  uiiil  en-y        tion,  beililld  a  buffet  or  shelf  on 


295 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


wliich    objects,    already    placed,    may    not 
break  the  lines  of  ornament. 

Reproduction  fails  whore  color  occupies 
the  important  place,  as  is  necessarily  the 
case   in    needlework.      It   is   regretted   that 


elementary  knowledge  of  design  and  of  the 
laws  of  color.  Having  such  knowledge,  .she 
would  do  well  to  follow  the  process  which 
is  here  subjoined  in  detail: 

The  design  having  been  made  of  the  size 


even  design  values  suffer  material  change  in  of  the  work  to  be  executed,  the  portions 

the    examples    shown.      In    reviewing    the  intended  for  applique  are  cut  according  to 

work,  however,  we  feel  that  the  care  with  the  models  contained  in  the  cartoons.   These 

which  over-decoration  has  been  eliminated,  shapes  are  "caught  down"  smoothly  upon 

distinguishes  it  as  possessed  of  high  artistic  the  background,  and  are  outlined  in  a  long 

qualities.  running  stitch,  with  a  worsted  cord,  about 

A  quiet  reserve  in  design,  combined  with  three-sixteenths  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  For 

execution  whicli  duly  recognizes  the  limita-  the    applied    portions    of    the    design    the 

tions  of  textiles,  is  perhaps  the  most  marked  Craftsmen  linens  are  effectively  used  upon 

characteristic  of  what  this  organized  effort  a  background  of  heavy  canvas. 


las  already  accomplished. 


s 


TENC'ILED  FABRICS  IN  COM- 
BINATION WITH  PEASANT 
E.AI  BROIDERY. 


The  design  having  been  chosen,  the  color 
scheme  must  be  fixed.  This  may  be  based 
upon  either  contrasts  or  harmonies :  the 
former  basis  demanding  great  discretion 
and  a  fine  sense  of  proi)ortion  on  the  part 


The  needlework  which  passes 
under  the  name  of  peasant  em- 
broidery consists  of  applique' 
used  to  introduce  changes  of 
color,  and  combined  with  stencil- 
work  in  patterns  conventional- 
ized from  natural  forms. 

The  Craftsman  fabrics  upon 
which  this  method  is  successfullv 
employed,  have  variations  in 
tone  and  color  suggesting  tin 
backgrounds  of  the  finer  Orien- 
tal rugs.  The  method  is  simple 
and  the  results  most  effective, 
especially  when  compared  witii 
the  small  outlay  of  time,  skill 
and  money  necessary  to  accom- 
plish them. 

To  produce  this  embroidery 
the  needlewoman'  must  possess  an 

^86 


-      -v-^  — ft*^ 


I'ortion  of  a  friez 


lltfliter  bluc^  aud  pale  t^old 


STEXC 1 1 . ED     FA  IHl  I C  S 


of  tlie  ncodlowoman ;  tlie  latter 
beiii^  more  easily  lianrlled,  as 
It  involves  only  closely  related 
color-elements,  as,  for  example, 
olive  green  and  Prussian  blue ; 
French  blue  and  emerald 
green ;  raw  uinher  and  loiiioii 
yellow.  This  portion  of  the 
work  maj'  become  a  highly 
educative  study,  and  place 
the  needlewoman  in  possession 
of  a  valuable  and  extensive 
knowledge  of  the  laws  and 
possibilities  of  color.  To  fur- 
ther this  end  the  old  French 
tapestries  and  the  combina- 
tions of  the  Venetian  painters, 
euch  as  Titian  and  Veronese, 
should  be  carefully  examined 
with  the  view  of  surprising 
the  secrets  of  their  full  orches- 
tration of  color. 

Great  care  should  also  be 
given  to  the  method  of  sten- 
ciling. The  colors  to  be  used 
should  be  mixed  dry  with 
white  lead  and  turpentine  to 
the  consistency  of  thick 
cream ;  the  white  lead  having 
been  previously  spread  upon 
sheets  of  blotting  paper  to 
extract  the  oil  which  it  con- 
tains. The  stencil  plate  is 
made  from  tough,  thin  j)ap(  r. 
rendered  non-absorbent  by 
treatment  with  paraffine.  The 
design  is  then  placed  in  the 
desired  position,  the  fabric 
held  upright,  and  the  colors 
pounced  or  rubbed  through 
the  plate  upon  the  fabric ;  the 


m 


Portion  of  a  frieze.    Fabric:  olive  green  cauvasf  stenciled  design  in 

I'l-ii-k  rt_-il,iM;i'-.K-k  I'liif  !iii<l  i^'-ru 


J'uriioii  ui  a  li it^ /.t 


Oobi'lin  blue,  brick  red  uud  urumre 


L'lK'tt  .tllM^ll    Hi 


987 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


amount  of  pressure  required  being  deter- 
mined by  judgment  and  experience. 

It  may  be  said  in  conclusion  that  this 
work  increases  in  interest  as  it  proceeds. 
Tiie  needlewoman  wiio  labors  intelligently 
to  produce  these  coinl)inations  of  form  and 
color  will  find  that  sjie  may  advance  from 
tiie  little  to  the  large,  that  by  these  means 
she  may  acquire  together  with  manual  skill, 
an  envialjle  critical   power. 


'#.  " ,    # 


.J 


r..tt(.]i  vi-Ivri  I'r.r  hniiL'iiiirs:    sn-m-iltMl  dcsiirii  with 
riiiliroiilf-red  diM-s 


288 


l'..ni<.if,     I'aiirif;    ><\d  tiiniuoise  l)liu'  ranvas; 
stouciltMl  tU-sitrii  ill  gokk'U  brown  and  C-crn 


DECORATIVE    ATIT 


T 


HE  A  B  C  OF  DECORATIVE 
ART. 


supplement  cacli  oflicr.      A   fiilso  qtiaiititv 


TiijiRE  are  certain  maxims  relative 
to  tlie  decorative  arts,  the  non-acceptance  or 
(lisregaril  of  wliicli  is  ahsohitely  fatal,  and 
makes  the  word  "decoration"  almost  as  much 
a  term  of  contempt  as  the  word  "artistic." 

Decoration  in  its  simplest  and  tlierefore 
its  best  and  most  extended  sense  is  the  plac- 
inp".  hy  means  of  handicraft  upon  an  object 


* 

or  surface,  of  something  which  shall  en- 
hance its  value  and  make  that  particular 
place  or  object  more  interesting  to  live  with. 
Decoration  reduced  to  its  simplest  element 
is,  aside  from  the  color,  nothing  more  or  less 


ill  a  decoration  is,  or  should  be,  as  unpleas- 
ant as  an  improjier  use  of  counterpoint  in 
the  sister  art  to  which  it  bears  so  much  re- 
semblance. In  spite  of  the  time  honored 
aphorism  that  "genius  knows  no  laws,"  the 
basic  principles  of  decorative  art  are,  within 
certain  well  defined  limits,  as  accurately 
doteniiined  us  the  law  for  tiie  resolution  of 
an   equation   of  the  second   degree.      Even 


with  a  limited  knowledge  of  the  operations 
of  nature,  one  readily  determines  that  abso- 
lute symmetry  is  almost  as  nnich  abhorred  as 
the  vacuum ;  and  it  might  also  be  said  that 
Nature  was  the  inventor  of  the  diminished 
seventh,  and  tiiat  .she  charms  invariably  by 
than  an  arrangement  of  spaces,  which  like  the  qtudity  of  the  unexpected.  While  Nature 
tlic  notes  in  a  musical  chord,  arc  related  each  is  in  no  sense,  in  spite  of  various  writers,  to 
to  the  other  and  not  only  complement,  but      be  taken  as  the  authority   in  art  matters, 

i?«9 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


iievortlielcss,  slie  furnishes  one  of  tlie  most      oreHon   of  tlie  designer,  who  must  aU^^ays 


valuable  of  the  tools,  and  should  be  treated 


with  respect  aeeordino-ly :  borrowed  from, 
but  not  imitated.  With  this  tliouc^jit  in 
mind,  turnin£f  to  the  simplest  proposition 
— for  instance,  the  division  of  a  rectangle — 
the  very  novice  recognizes  the  monotony  of 
the  line  wliich  divides  it  through  the  center. 
'i'lie  moving  of  the  dividing  lino  to  one  side 
or  the  (.)ther,  as  shown  by  the  second  illustra- 


tion, excites  curiosity  and  the  I'esult  is  in- 
teresting. This  division,  while  not  being 
absolutely  sterile  of  the  decorative  element, 
can  be  made  more  pleasing  by  a  re-division 
of  one  of  the  two  spaces  along  the  same  lines, 
as  that  of  the  first  implacement,  by  which 
means  variety  is  gained  and  space  arrange- 
ment of  a  simple  kind  is  approached.  These 
subdivisions  may  be  continued  at  the  dis- 


remember,  however,  that  an  excess  of  sub- 
division becomes  an  artistic  vice. 

Heretofore  we  have  dealt  with  the  same 
simple  problem  of  the  subdivision  of  a 
rectangular  space  by  means  of  riglit  lines, 
which  treatment,  in  spite  of  the  severity  of 


the  coiiiljination,  lacks  the  element  of  con- 
trast by  which  alone  its  importance  may  be 
.■i])})reciated.  If  it  is  particularly  desired 
to  lieighten  the  severity  of  the  composition, 
each  line  thereof  becomes  intensely  rigid  by 
the  introduction  of  some  one  curved  form 
for  an  accent.  We  now  come  to  the  condi- 
tion where  the  line  which  divides  these  sim- 
ple shapes  from  absolute  decoration  is 
hardly  jjerceptible.      With  the  triangle,  the 


horizontal  line,  the  circle  and  the  addition 
of  a  small  amount  of  detail,  which  in  many 


Utamaro 


.111 


292 


DECORATIVE  ART 

instances  explains  too  iiuuli.  it  is  possible  to  l)W'ii   laid  down.      Let  us   now  analyze  the 

construct  a  landscape  or  figure  composition  decoration  entitled  "The  Resurrection,"  by 

of  the  first  rank.      The  genesis  of  mural,  or  (riotto:  the  lines  of  this  composition  justify 

in  fact  of  any  decoration,  from  the  simplest  and  corroborate  our  argument  with  all  the 

elements  to  the  completed  work,  will  possi-  force  of  fact.     It  has  been  assci'tcd  of  this 

bl\-  be  better  comprehended  by  the  accom-  composition, and  with  considerable  authority. 


tfc^  ?. 


r^^ 


'I 


"  viieniiamittm 

^iSiSSi 

■1 

panying  illustrations,  which  are  numbered  that  early  Italian  art  produced  nothing  ex- 

1  to  8,  than  it  could  be  by  an  eyen  more  ex-  ceeding  it  in  perfection  of  arrangement  and 

tended  analysis.  «  deconitiyc  proprietj' :  wiiich  qualities  tentl  to 

It  is  curious  to  notice  how  the  works  of  make  it  one  of  the  great   j)ictures  of  tlie 

the  great  masters  inyariably  explain  these  worlfi  and  not  to  be  neglected  in  any  serious 

seemingl}-  simple  propositions  which  have  study  of  the  Fine  Arts.     Equally  striking 

293 


il9-i 


DECORATIVE  ART 

is  the  result  obtained  from  the  study  of  tlie  id  oiico  a  very  iiuportunt  factor  in  the  corn- 
arrangement  of  "The  Transfiguration,"  by  position  and  a  ricli  source  of  symbolic  mean- 
Fra  Angelico:  a  picture  whose  composition  ing,  since  it  suggests  the  Great  Sacrifice, 
would  add  furtlicr  proof  to  our  argument,  In  "The  ^ladonna  and  Infant  Child,"  bv 


if  proof  were  needed;  the  plans  of  curved  ('arpaccio,the  results  arrived  at  are  planned 

and   straight   lines    forming   a    remarkable  with  a  precision  that  would  be  creditable  in 

decorative  scheme,  and  the  upright  figure  a  strain  sheet  by  a  modern  engineer.      In 

of  the  Saviour  with  outstretched  arms  being  this  design  the  subtile  symmetry,  the  oppo- 


29S 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


sltion  of  triangles  and  the  segment  of  circle 
are  all  enipliasized  by  the  rigid  lines  of  the 
architectural  forms ;  the  banner-staff  held 
b}'  the  Doge  and  the  brand  carried  by  St. 
C'liristoplier  are  splendid  examples  of  the 
intelligent  use  of  decorative  materials.  The 
architectural    quality    found    in    the    "Ship 


equaled  in  the  history  of  art.  With  their 
traditions  modified  and  the  sacred  element 
eliminated,  the  basic  principles  retained 
made  ])ossible  the  splendidly  decorative  ser- 
mons in  the  color  prints  of  Japan ;  the 
production  of  which,  after  covering  a  pe- 
riod of  one  hundred  and  tiftv  vears,  became 


Thf  Ship  of  Fortuui'.    Piiituriocliio 


of  Fortune"  by  I'inturicchio,  are  almost 
startling  in  their  relationship  to  the  compo- 
sitions of  the  old  Buddhist  priests  and  art- 
ists, who  possessed  this  quality  in  the  high- 
est form,  and  whose  productions,  insjjired 
b}'  a  most  subtile  appreciation  of  the  deco- 
rative requirements,  have  almost  never  been 

2f)ti 


practically  extinct  in  the  middle  of  the 
last  century  owing  to  the  introduction  of 
allegeil  civilization.  While  Commodore 
I'erry,  no  doubt,  is  entitled  to  the  dis- 
tinguished consideration  of  the  outside 
world,  the  disastrous  influences  which  came 
in  his  train  are  only  to  be  equaled  by  the 


DECC)RAT1\  K   ART 


artistic  vandalism  of  the  Rof'ormation  ;  in 
both  of  wliicli  instances  art  lias  suffered 
blows,  not  likely  within  our  time,  at  least, 
to  he  wiioUy  healed. 

As  a  proof  of  the  statement  made  above 
regarding  the  art  of  Japan,  a  reproduction 
of  a  color  print  by  Hiroshigi  is  presented. 
This  picture  is  a  successful  accomplishment 
of  the  difficult  task  set  before  tlic  artist. 
If  there  be  any  doubt  as  to  iiis  mastery  in 
this  instance,  let  the  student  attempt  an 
alteration  in  the  arrangement,  no  matter 
how  very  slight,  and  note  the  disastrous 
results.  Equally  is  this  point  explained 
in  that  celebrated  series  of  drawings  illus- 
trating.silk  culture  and  done  by  I'tamaro. 
when  at  the  zenith  of  his  powers.  In  fact, 
it  may  be  said  with  truth  that  all  the  great 
arts  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  the  influences 
of  enviromnent,  temperament  and  religion, 
have  been  based  upon  exactly  the  same 
formulae;  and  a  Japanese  color  print,  an 
etching  bj*  Rembrandt  and  a  Greek  vase, 
of  the  best  period,  may  be  viewed  side  by 
side  and  give  to  the  beholder  an  absolute 
sense  of  unity,  for  their  makers  being 
true  artists,  were  of  necessity  artful,  To 
repeat,  artfid  art  of  all  times,  in  all  coun- 
tries, and  by  all  races,  is  and  of  necessity 
must  be  built  on  the  same  foundations. 

The  j)r<»i)lem  of  decoration,  wliile  depend- 
ing primarily  upon  the  arrangement  of 
spaces,  relies  much  upon  the  two  elements 
known  to  the  Japanese  as  Notaii  and  siuisu. 
Xotan  pertains  to  the  arrangement  inde- 
pendently of  the  chiaroscuro  of  tlie  picture, 
the  lights  and  darks:  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
delineation  of  a  man,  who  might  be  attired 
in  a  black  coat,  gray  trousers  and  white 
vest,  but  who  may  be  recjuired  by  the  artistic 
exigencies  to  wear  a  white  coat,  gray  vest 


and  black  trousers.  It  is  in  the  determina- 
tion of  this  fact  that  the  Notan  exists. 
Siutsu  performs  the  same  functions  for  the 
arrangement  of  the  color. 

It  is  to  the  study  of  the  works  of  these 
great  men  of  the  East  that  a  returning 
comprehension  of  the  needs  of  our  modern 
decorative  art  is  due.  Yet  in  spite  of  these 
sermons  which  are  found  at  every  hand,  the 
walls  of  our  private  and  j)ublic  structures 
present  not  one-half  of  the  genuine  decora- 
tive art  that  is  found  in  the  small  illustra- 
tions by  men  like  Steinlein  and  A'allaton; 
and  indeed  it  is  doubted  if  another  Occi- 
dental has  ever  appreciated  tiu-  j)ossibilities 
of  line,  s])ace  and  Notan  as  did  tlie  altogeth- 
er too  short-lived  Aubrey  Heardsley,  whose 
every  composition  from  first  to  last  abounds 
in  food  for  reflection.  Equally  true  is  it 
that  these  principles  apply  to  all  forms  of 
domestic  art  as  well  as  to  the  surface  decora- 
tion of  walls;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
modern  craftsman  seems  to  have  a  very 
much  better  comprehension  of  them  than  the 
man  who  bears  dubiously  the  title  of  "an 
artist."  With  regret  be  it  said  that  in  only 
too  many  instances  the  soiled  worker  in 
metal,  the  designer  of  fabrics,  the  joiner  of 
furniture,  and  their  kindred  craftsmen,  are 
more  nearly  in  sympathy  with  the  great 
masters  than  are  the  men  wlio  j)ompously 
display  their  mediocrity  upon  the  walls  of 
our  public  buildings. 

It  is  intended  in  future  issues  of  The 
Craftsman  to  embody  these  decorative  prin- 
cil)ies  in  a  series  of  articles  which  sliall 
advocate  the  neix^sity  f"or  the  exercise  of 
care  and  knowledge  in  tiie  designing  of  all 
objects  intended  for  household  service, 
and  press  the  claims  of  the  simple  thing 
against  the  ugly  and  the  complex. 

297 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


T 


HE    CHILD    BENEFITED    BY 
SIMPLE  TOYS. 


"Tlie  world  is  so  full  of  a  number  of  tilings, 
I'm  sure  we  should  all  be  as  happy  as  kings." 

So  saj's  in  his  heart  the  normal  child 
— the  child  that  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
knew,  and  tliat  Kenneth  Grahame,  in  these 
later  days,  has  rediscovered.      But  we  who 


cjireiTow  man 


have  so  efFectually  grown  up  that  we  have 
forgotten  tlie  magical  things  whicii  filled  that 
enchanted  world  of  the  child-mind — we  are 
prone  to  crowd  it  arbitrarily  with  irrelevant 
tilings.  It  is  a  sad  confession,  but  an  inev- 
itable one,  that  few  of  us  succeed  in  cherish- 
ing in  our  hearts  that  boyish  freshness  and 
exuberance  that  enabled  Stevenson  to  put 
iiimself  in  the  place  of  the  child  and  to 
speaks  trulv  from  the  depths  of  the  child- 
mind. 

And  so,  oblivious  to  the  real  nature  of 
the  realm  in  which  the  little  one  is  king,  we 
all  seem  bent,  this  Christmas  season,  upon 
diverting  him  from  the  spell  of  that  land  by 

■2m 


thrusting  him  into  the  world  of  the  actual, 
the  matter-of-fact.  To  this  end,  we  sur- 
round him  with  objects  that  are  as  exact  a 
reproduction  of  real  things  as  it  is  possible 
to  make ;  and  we  bid  him  "play"  with  these 
literal  fac-similes  of  things  which  he  sees 
around  him. 

We  haunt  the  toy  shops  in  search  of 
animals  with  real  fur,  little  French  lassies 
tliat  can  walk  and  talk  and  go  to  sleep,  and 
wonderful  mechanical  toys  that  seem  almost 
possessed  of  intelligence ;  and  because  these 
cleverly  constructed  automata  interest  and 
divert  us,  we  think  that  they  are  adapted  as 
playthings  for  the  children.  We  take  them 
home  and  enjoy  them  while  the  little  ones 
marvel  at  them  for  an  hour.  To-morrow 
they  are  cither  taken  to  pieces  to  gratify  a 
scientific  impulse,  or  laid  upon  a  shelf.  And 
the  children,  until  the  next  periodical  rain 
of   costly   gifts   descends,   happily   pursue 


The  basswood  beast 


SIMPLK   TOYS 


tlieir  games  witli  the  aid  of  the  crude  ob-      to   consist   in   the  Iiandling   and  seeing  of 
jects  whicli  tliey  have  fashioned  for  them-      attractive  real  objects — and  notliing  could 


Hi 


>lit  that  the  play  consists  in  the 


Tlie  Tli.-ulosriial  l.ir.l 

selves  out  of  a  board,  a  stick,  a  piece  of 
string,  or  whatever  else  may  have  been 
available  in  completing  some  comprehensive 
plan. 

Wherein  does  the  trouble  lie?  Why  is 
there  such  a  breach  between  our  choice  for 
the  child,  and  the  child's  own  instinct?  Be- 
cause we  have  ignored  a  law  of  the  child's  tilings  that  the  child  has,  that  he  touches, 
nature.  We  have  been  ignorant  as  to  the  that  he  sees.  On  tiie  contrary,  it  consists 
meaning,  the  real  essence  of  play.  We  in  the  things  that  he  has  not,  that  he  cannot 
have  fallen  into  the  mistake  of  a.ssuming  it     haiidic    or    mm-.      And    the    play-instinct    is 

^99 


Tlic  i)iii-piii<liil"m  iniin 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


'I'lir  .luiitrleark 

tlnvjirted  if  every  adjunct  is  literally  sup- 
plied. 

We  talk  a  j^^reat  deal  to-day  about  the 
necessity  of  promoting  the  self-activity  of 
the  child;  and  we  iire  learning,  through  the 


kindergartners,  tliat  the  play  element  is  the 
greatest  factor  in  quickening  such  activity. 
The  little  one,  through  his  games,  is  becom- 
ing fitted  for  the  larger  play  of  life,  as  met 
in  the  home,  in  society,  in  the  state.  And 
if  AVordsworth  seems  to  deplore  the  "ear- 
nest pains"  with  which  the  child, — 
"As  if  his  whole  vocation 
Wan  endless  imitation," — 

provokes  "the  years  to  bring  the  inevitable 
yoke,"  by  ])laying  all  the  parts  of  human 
life,  we  are  still  forced  to  acknowleda-e  that 


|rafM-WM'  I  '^-*'8 


Tlii-  Dink.  J-  l.inl 


Dre.-iileu  toy  from  tlie  IiiteniatiiuKil  Studio,  clesisfiied 
liy  Eii'liroilt 

this  play  is  Nature's  method  of  training  him 
for  the  work  whose  counterpart  in  nn'nia- 
turc  it  is.  But  we  do  not  always  set  about 
intelligently  to  further  these  beautiful  illu- 
sions that  foreshadow  real  life,  and  through 
which  the  child  unconsciously  merges  into 
the  responsible  member  of  society.  And  it 
is  in  the  matter  of  toys,  perhaj)s,  that  we 
display  the  least  intelligence. 

It  is  to  be  questioned  if  we  do  not  more 
often  consult  our  own  delight  in  the  selec- 
tion of  Christmas  toj's  than  the  preference 


•Mm 


SLM1M,K    TO^'S 


of  the  children.  A  significant  httle  story 
was  toll!  in  one  of  tiie  hohday  magazines  of 
a  year  or  two  ago.  A  crowd  of  zealous 
parents  and  uncles  and  aunts  were  "making 
a  Ciiristmas"  for  tlie  small  son  of  the  fam- 
ily, who  was  shut  out  from  all  the  merr}'- 
making  attendant  upon  the  trimming  of  a 
wonderful  tree.  He  roamed  the  house  dis- 
consolately while  shrieks  of  laughter,  alter- 
nating   with    certain     mysterious     sounds, 


train  of  cars  and  with  starting  off  the  little 
engine  on  its  course  down  the  hall,  when 
some  one  said:  "But  where  is  the  boy.'"' 
The  boy  had  disappeared.  After  some 
search,  they  found  him  in  the  kitchen,  fight- 
ing an  exciting  naval  battle  with  pieces  of 
coal  and  a  stick,  with  an  old  comrade  of 
many  victories.  Somewliat  discomfited,  they 
retreated  silently  and  left  him  to  the  realities 
that  they  had  not  been  able  to  find  for  him. 


Drcs(ii-n  toys  from  the  International  stuiiio:  ilcsii;rii-il  liy  Eichrodt 


readied  his  ears  from  the  secret  ciiamber. 
After  what  .seemed  interminable  hours  of 
banishment,  the  time  came  when  he  was 
admitted,  to  reap  the  fruits  of  their  toil. 
The  enthusiastic  relatives,  all  chattering  at 
once  and  indulging  in  peals  of  laughter, 
began  to  operate  the  various  startling  toys 
that  were  to  edify  the  youtliful  recipient. 
They    were   much    engrossed    with    a    long 


It  is  true  that  a  realistic,  elaborate  toy 
may  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  child  at  first;  but 
it  seldom  affords  him  a  moans  of  play — and 
sui'ely  a  toy  is  intended  for  a  plaything. 
The  highly  perfected  toy  is  to  the  child 
something  desirable  to  own,  to  look  at  occa- 
sionally, to  lay  carefully  away.  It  is  sel- 
dom something  to  play  with,  to  live  with, 
to  build  worlds  around.      How  should  it  be,' 


301 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Nothing  is  left  to  build.  Everything  is 
done  for  the  child — and  mucii  of  it,  to  his 
simple  mind,  vainly  done.  His  eye  is  not 
yet  trained  to  a  keen  perception  of  form 
and  color,  and  the  perfection  of  finish  is 
wasted  on  him. 

It  cannot  be  gainsaid  that  tiie  young 
child  is  a  savage — the  history  of  the  race 
repeats  itself  in  the  individual.  In  the  art 
expressions    of    primitive    peoples    may    be 


For  after  all,  your  little  child,  like  your 
primitive  man,  is  the  greatest  idealist.  His 
strivings  for  realism,  when  his  soldier  must 
have  the  prescribed  number  of  arms  and 
legs,  and  eyes  and  teeth,  come  later.  The 
imagination  of  the  most  youthful  artist  can 
build  a  man  upon  a  single  line;  if  the  man 
is  in  motion,  it  is  necessary  only  to  slant 
the  line. 

This  striving  of  the  imagination  of  the 


Steam  :   Iiihiy  liy  Yoysey 


found  the  key  to  the  thing  that  appeals  to 
the  imagination  of  the  child.  In  confirma- 
tion of  this  fact,  compare  the  first  crude 
drawings  of  a  child  with  those  of  a  primi- 
tive man.  You  will  see  in  both  the  en- 
deavor to  tell  a  story — not  to  perfect  form. 
A  straight  line,  with  another  at  right  an- 
gles, may  represent  a  soldier  with  a  gun, 
and  tell  a  real  story  to  the  child. 


little  idealist  should  be  constantly  encofir- 
aged  by  supplying  simple  frameworks  about 
which  it  may  build.  We  have  all  known 
boys  for  whom  a  rough  stick,  as  a  hobby 
horse,  possessed  more  endearing  and  endur- 
ing charm  than  the  realistic  horse  with  tail 
and  mane  of  real  hair.  Many  a  little  lassie 
has  lavished  a  wealth  of  affection  upon  a 
quaintly   crude  old   rag  doll  that  a  large 


302 


SIMPLE  TOYS 


collection   of   Parisimi   jiaragons    failed  to 
command. 

Stevenson  knew  the  meaning  of  the  true 
play  spirit  of  the  child;  and  he  reflects  it 
here  and  there  in  tiiose  charming  little 
verses  that  proved  him  to  be  one  of  the  few 
"grown  ups''  who  could  completely  bridge 
the  chasm  separating  most  of  us  from  our 
childhood.     He  has  succeeded  in  recalling 


"the  Inst  is  the  king. 
For   there's   very    few    children    possess   such   a 

thing; 
And  tliat  is  a  chisel,  lioth  handle  and  blade. 
Which  a  man  who  was  really  a  carpenter  made;" 

in  "The  Land  of  Story  Books,"  found  by  the 

cliild  in  tile  dark  corners  of  the  room  while 

iiis  parents  sit  around  the  fire  "and  do  not 

play  at  anytjiing" — everywhere,  we  are  met 

l)v  the  same  convincing  ingenuousness. 


Wind:  inlay  by  Vuysey 


perfectly  the  consciousness  of  the  child ; 
nowhere  do  we  find  a  false  note.  Especially 
do  our  hearts  recognize  the  truthfulness  of 
the  child  attitude  toward  playthings,  sug- 
gested now  and  then  in  the  verses.  In  the 
"Block  City"  by  the  sea,  which  the  child 
builds  and  peoples  with  blocks,  with  sf)fa 
for  mountains  and  carpet  for  sea;  in  "Mv 
Treasures,"  of  wliich 


These  are  real  children,  wlio  live  in  the 
real  child  world  of  imagination;  to  whom 
wali\ing  and  talking  toys  would  mean  little; 
who  need  next  to  nothing  as  a  nucleus  about 
which  to  construct  vivid,  vital  scenes.  Tlie 
toys  with  which  the  young  ruler  of  "Coun- 
terpane Land"  whiles  away  the  tedious 
hours  of  a  day  in  bed,  l)lay  a  small  jiart  in 
creating  the  illusion;  in  their  absence,  al- 

303 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


most  anything  would  serve  as  a  substitute ; 

"And  sometimes  for  an  hour  or  so, 
I  watched  my  leaden  soldiers  go, 
AVith  different  uniforms  and  drills, 
Among  the  lied-clothes,  through  the  hills. 

"And  sometimes  sent  my  sliipF  in  fleets 
All  up  and  down  among  the  sheets; 
Or  brought  my  trees  and  houses  out, 
And  planted  cities  all  about. 

"I  was  the  giant  great  and  still 
That  sits  upon  the  pillow-hill. 
And  sees  before  him,  dale  and  plf(in, 
Tlie  pleasant  land  of  Counterpane." 

Toys  need  not  be  meaningless  in  order  to 
be  simple.  Tliey  may  be  so  constructed  on 
simple,  vital  lines  as  to  suggest  life,  activ- 
ity, strength.  Why  not  tlirect  a  little  at- 
tention toward  securing  the  embodiment  of 
simple  art  principles  in  the  toys  with  which 
the  children  are  to  live? 

The  Dresden  toys  shown  in  the  illustra- 
tion are  an  example  of  primitive  simplicity 
that  appeals  to  the  child  mind.  They  are, 
moreover,  works  of  art.  The  animals  are 
alive  and  can  move.  Every  object  has  a 
quaint  charm  that  is  quite  distinct  from  the 
limited  prettiness  of  many  of  our  realistic 
toys.  The  jolly  dachshund  is  another  il- 
lustration of  the  Dresden  toys.      The  life. 


vigor  and  alertness  of  this  amiable  animal 
cannot  but  fascinate  the  child. 

For  further  illustrations  of  the  same  sim- 
ple appealing  qualities  that  are  found  in  all 
good  art  for  children,  observe  the  to}'  vil- 
lage and  the  rooks  with  trees,  reproduced 
from  the  inlays  on  a  cabinet  designed  by 
Voysey,  the  distinguished  English  crafts- 
man. The  fric7,e  of  cats  is  taken  from  a 
])ublicati()n  worthv  of  mention  in  this  con- 
nection :  "Paper  Doll  Poems,"  by  Pauline 
King,  in  which  the  decorative  arrangement 
of  the  drawings  is  a  sermon  in  simplicity 
and  propriety.  The  beginning  of  the  dedi- 
cation explains  this  attitude  exactly:  "This 
book,  written  by  a  big  child  for  little  ones," 
etc.  The  directness  of  the  drawings,  and 
their  complete  relevancy  to  the  text,  make 
them  an  important  addition  to  the  imple- 
ments in  the  instruction  and  amusement  of 
the  child. 

It  is  significant  that  most  children  find 
a  keener  delight  in  playing  with  paper  dolls 
than  with  any  other  kind.  This  is  but 
an  added  confirmation  of  the  fact  that  the 
imagination  of  the  child  loves  best  a  few 
direct  lines  that  it  may  clothe  with  contours 
of  limitless  beauty  and  charm. 


304. 


RouUs:  inl:i.v  by  Voysey 


CRAFTSMANSHIP    IN    SCHOOLS 


Side  wall  f.ir  :i  imrsfr.v.iili'''ii;nLMl  liy  a  stuclent  in  lii 


uf  Di'i'orative"an<i  Applieil 


c 


RAITSMAXSIIIP  IN  THE 
NEW  YORK  SCHOOLS.  BY 
JACOB   I.   MILSNEK. 


After  four  hundred  ycam  of  reform  in 
Education,  we  are  onh'  now  awakening  to  a 
realization  of  tlie  fact  that  the  study  of  the 
arts  and  crafts  is  an  imj)ortant  factor  in 
the  development  of  the  human  being.  The 
introduction  of  work  in  freehand  drawinff 
.uifl  design   into  this  country  was  brought 


about  by 'those  educators  who  thought  that 
our  3'oung  men  could  be  so  trained  as  to 
compete  successfully  witli  the  designers 
brouglit  from  Europe.  Soon  after,  me- 
ciianical  drawing  was  introduced  into  the 
schools;  then  manual  training;  and  it  is 
only  within  the  last  decade  that  any  work 
has  been  done  at  all  toward  correlatinir 
beauty  of  line  and  color  with  craftsman- 
sliip. 

Among  the  revolutionary  changes  made 
in  the  teaching  methods  in  this  countrv,  the 
greatest  has  been  effected  in  the  methotls  of 
teaching  art.  Formerly  to  study  art  was 
to  spend  years  in  study  of  the  antique,  of 
artistic  anatom}'  and  of  painting;  as  if 
everyone  with  artistic  ability  could  become 
successful  as  a  painter  pure  and  simple. 
The  work  was  distinctly  j)ictorial ;  there  was 
no  attempt  to  ai)i)ly  tile  art  to  everyday 
life.  Now,  the  j)upils  of  the  different 
schools  are  taught  not  only  to  appreciate 
the  beautiful,  but  also  to  acquire  that  tech- 

:}()5 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


nical  knowledge  which  is  necessary  for  prac- 
tical, as  well  as  for  artistic  handiwork. 
]\Ianual  training  should  mean  the  training 
wjiich  will  cnalile  one  not  onl_v  to  make  a 
well  constructed  article  of  practical  utility, 
but  also  a  piece  beautiful  to  look  upon. 
This  training  gives  freedom  of  expression, 
and  also  that  knowledge  of  form,  line  and 
color  so  necessary  to  the  craftsman. 

In    this    new   movement    New   York   has 


LLC  KEAFfMEY 


/ 


ject  in  the  school  curriculum  has  undergone 
greater  changes  than  the  drawing  and  con- 
structive work.  And  in  no  subject  has  the 
change    been    more    beneficial.      Some    ten 


Stii.liiit  w.irk  ill  till'  Ili^'h  S(lio,.l   .if  (.■.■iiiiiHTCc 

done  not  a  little  toward  setting  before  the 
American  ])ublic  the  great  educational  value 
of  craftsmanship.  In  a  brief  n'xiiwt'  of 
what  the  New  York  schools  are  doing,  such 
as  I  liave  attiMujited  here,  it  is  not  the  inten- 
tion to  exjilain  all  the  methods  by  wliich  the 
residts  shown  have  been  obtained,  iDut  sim- 
])lv  to  give,  largely  by  the  aid  of  drawings 
and  photographs,  a  slight  hint  of  what 
can  be  accomplished  by  educators  in  this 
new  phase  of  art.      I  reiterate  that  no  sub- 

lidrt 


years  ago  arithmetic  was  placed  at  the  head 
in  lists  showing  proportionately  the  choice 
made  l)y  children  in  different  subjects; 
while  drawing  stood  nearly  at  the  foot. 
But  now  we  find  in  those  scliools  in  wliich 
the  arts  anil  crafts  are  tauti'ht,  that  tlrawing; 
is  voted  by  a  majority  of  the  pupils  to  be 
the  most  interesting  study. 

The    arts    and    crafts    movement    in    the 
public  schools  had  its  beginning  eighteen 


n 


years  ago  when  a  svstem  of  manual  training 
was  inaugurated.  At  first,  onlv  bench  work 
was  attempted  and  if  we  were  to  look  at 
some    of   the    specimens    produced    by    the 


CRAFTSMANSHIP    IX    SCHOOLS 


pupils  of  that  day,  we  sliould  find  tliat  the      vears  inaking"  designs  ;  at  first, such  articles  as 
only  aim  was  to  give  practice  in  the  use  of      tov  brooms  and  baskets;  working  up  later 

to  completely  finislud  pieces 
tor  home  use :  such  as  brack- 
ets, book-racks,  and  pillow 
rases,  which  arc  not  onlj'  well 
constructed  but  also  appro- 
))riately  decorated.  This 
transition  was  b\'  no  means 
an  easy  one.  For  many  years 
those  educators  who  recom- 
mended the  new  movement 
were  called  "faddists"  and 
other  opprobrious  names  ;  and 
it  is  only  now  after  many 
years  that  the  grade  teachers 
have  been  convinced  of  the 
value  of  this  work  as  giving 
to    the    child   that    power    of 

W  ork  of  high  school  classes  i)f  lloia<c   -Mann  School.     Photographeii  by  .... 

Heniraii  Bmiicr  Originality    and    self-reliance 

the  different  tools:  in  other  words,  the  prac-      whicii  was  never  before  suspected, 
tice  necessary  to  make  a  good  carpenter  or  Why  lias  this  work  been  so  successful  in 

cabinet  maker.  The  draw- 
ings from  which  the  model 
was  to  be  made  were  executed 
by  the  teacher,  and  afterward 
copied  b\-  the  einbr^-o  carpen- 
ter. No  j)upil  made  his  own 
design,  and  afterward  carried 
it  out  in  the  necessary  mate- 
rial. This  correlation  of  the 
arts  and  crafts  did  not  be- 
come a  factor  in  the  manual 
training  schools  of  the  city, 
until  Dr.  J.  P.  Hancy  became 
supervisor.  Under  liis  effi- 
cient direction  the  work  in 
drawing  and  design  was  cor- 
related with  the  handwork, 
and  now  we  have  the  unusual  spectacle  of  the  elementary  schools?  Simply  because 
all  children  from  the  age  of  si.\  to  fourteen      the  activities  of  the  child  have  been  recog- 

307 


Work  of  coUcifc  cllL-incs  in     Iruiuiiiu    c<t:uuoi.     1  iioioi;ra(iiic(i    uy 
HtTiiian  Huchor 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Snlt'  whU  for  a  library.  dL'sii^ut.'ii  l)y  a  ■srii'lcut  iii  tin'  Sclmol  of  Decorativr  and  Apiilie<i  Art 


aizcd  and  allowed  to  run   in  their  proper 
* 
cliannels.      From    time    immemorial    it    has 

been    known    that    children    love    to    make 

things  and  to  decorate  tliem ;  yet  it  is  only 

within  the  past  decade  that  we  have  come 

to  utilize  this  knowledge. 

That  tliis  knowledge  of  the  wonderful 
effect  of  the  manual  arts  on  the  child's  de- 
velopment has  been  overlooked,  I  can  only 
attribute  to  prejudice  on  the  part  of  the 
"intellectual"  class  who  have  ever  regarded 
manual  labor  as  degrading  and  demoraliz- 
ing. It  was  thus  with  the  Greeks,  and  it  is 
so  even  to  this  day  with  a  large  majority  of 
our  people. 

New  York,  I  regret  to  say,  has  been  slow 
to  recognize  the  practical  utility  of  High 
Schools,  in  which  the  arts  and  crafts  may 
be  taught;  but  its  one  Manual  Training 
High  School  (in  Brooklyn)  has  been  doing 
remarkably  clever  work.  This  institution 
was  one  of  the  first  to  acknowledge  that  art 
and  manual  training  cannot  be  separated. 
Therefore,  the  embryo  designers  are  also 

308- 


skilled  craftsmen ;  making  their  designs  in 
wood,  metal  or  brass,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  subject. 

Beside  these  courses  in  the  elementary 
and  high  scliools,  the  technical  and  normal 
schools  are  also  doing  their  share  in  promul- 
gating the  principles  of  the  new  art.  Con- 
spicuous among  the  normal  schools  are  The 
Teachers'  College  and  Pratt  Institute.  The 
examples  which  are  given  from  the  Teach- 
ers' College  show,  I  believe,  a  tendency 
toward  simple  designing,  according  to  cor- 
rect structural  principles  a  method  which 
dilfers  radically  from  the  kind  of  work  pro- 
duced by  many  of  our  so-called  furniture 
designers  and  manufacturers. 

The  latest  school  to  open  its  doors  to 
those  who  wish  to  prepare  themselves  for 
work  in  the  arts  and  crafts,  is  the  School 
of  Decorative  and  Applied  Art  which  is 
affiliated  with  the  Chase  School  of  Art. 
This  institution  is  unique  in  that  it  is  the 
first  one  whose  aim  is  solely  to  teach  handi- 
craftsmanship.     Work    in    the    theory    of 


CHirs 


design  Ims  beyiiii  alroailv,  and  soon  a  de- 
partment of  loom  weaving  will  be  added. 
ISaskctry,  furniture  designing  and  embroid- 
ery will  also  be  taken  up  as  soon  as  is  prac- 
ticable. The  two  drawings  pre.sented  are 
fair  examples  of  the  work  in  interior  deco- 
ration and  show  the  true  principles  of  the 
new  art. 

Tile  outlook  then  in  New  York,  at  least, 
is  very  encouraging:  the  new  movement 
has  passed  the  experimental  stage  in  tlie 
schools,  and  if  we  expect  an}'  great  success 
in  the  art  world,  we  must  certainl}'  look  to 
the  educators.  If  there  have  been  such 
great  advances  in  the  past  few  j'ears,  what 
ouffht  we  not  to  await  from  the  future? 


c 


HIPS    FRO:\I    THE    CRAFTS- 
.MAN  ^^  OKKSHOP. 


The  Craftsman,  although  lov- 
ing his  work  and  content  in  his  workshop, 
feels  keenU'  the  necessity  of  entering  at 
times  into  a  broad  horizon.  He  longs  after 
full,  open-air  hght,  under  which  to  make 
comparisons  and  examine  truths.  His  im- 
pulse is  irresistible.  He  needs  imperatively 
the  companionship,  the  inspiration  of  others 
whose  thoughts,  aims  and  life  are  similar 
to  his  own. 

For  such  gratification  it  is  natural  fh.it 
he  should  turn  to  an  older  country  tlian 
America :  one  which  possesses  noble  mem- 
ories of  art  and  labor,  and  has  given  birth 
to  generation  after  generation  of  the  aris- 
tocrats of  toil ;  one  also  which  values  these 
old  traditions,  and  continues  them  by  ad- 
vancing to  new  accomplishments  worthy  of 
the  present  times,  when  science  and  inven- 
tion stand  at  the  disposition  of  any  man 
who  calls  intelligently  upon  their  aid. 


A  country  fulfilling  these  requirements 
([iiite  to  the  inaxiiiium  is  Relgimn,  whose  old 
cities  and  fertile  lands  tell  one  and  the  same 
story  of  a  never  relaxing  effort  to  make  the 
best  of  existing  conditions,  and  to  improve 
and  beautify  everything  touched  by  the 
human  liand.  Belgium  and  its  inhabitants 
arc  now  made  tlie  subject  of  deep  study  by 
artists  and  agriculturists,  by  those  devoted  to 
economics  and  sociology  who  seek  through 
learned  methods  to  discover  the  secrets  by 
wliich  land  and  people  have  attained  their 
success. 

Therefore,  what  more  natural  than  that 
The  Craftsman  should  follow  the  wise  men 
of  his  time — altiiough  he  proceed  with  un- 
etjual  steps — in  his  effort  to  gain  such  por- 
tion of  homely  wisdom  as  might  serve  for  a 
long  time  to  illuminate  his  workshop — nay, 
to  make  its  very  walls  transparent,  so  that 
he  should  recognize  liimself  as  no  longer 
solitary,  but  as  a  member  of  a  vast  guild  or 
brotherhood  laboring  to  increase  tiie  worth 
of  life  and  the  beauty  of  the  world.' 

The  waj'  was  pointed,  and  the  benefits  of 
the  journey  foreseen.  But  the  anticipated 
good  fell  far  short  of  the  real  pleasure  and 
profit.  Each  day,  each  stage  of  the  route 
revealed  the  richest  material  for  thought 
and  stud}-,  wliich  awaited  to  be  mined,  mint- 
ed and  put  into  circulation  by  the  traveler 
whose  ambition  should  not  end  with  the  con- 
(juest  of  hours  of  pleasure. 

First  of  all,  tiie  landscape,  the  open  coun- 
try, the  fields,  here  offer  the  strongest  of  les- 
sons. The  hostility  of  Nature  toward  the 
region  is  everywhere  apparent.  Organiza- 
tion, co-operation,  patience  have  alone  been 
able  to  create  a  habitable  soil  from  a  chaos 
of  forest  and  morass.  The  men  of  Belgium, 
since  the  epoch  of  the  lloman  invasion,  have 

309 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


steadily  fought  material  obstacles.  They 
have  dyked  streams,  opposed  tides,  drained 
marshes,  turned  wind,  water  and  argilla- 
ceous nnul  from  hostile  to  friendly  agents, 
built  canals,  mills  and  ships,  made  brick, 
reared  flocks  and  herds,  and,  later,  organized 
industrial  and  commercial  enterj)rises  of 
world-wide  importance  ami  utility. 

Among  these  accomplishments  two  may 
be  taken  as  examples  showing  the  use  made 
by  this  people,  in  their  battle  for  shelter, 
food  and  clothing,  of  natural  disadvantages 
to  which  less  discreet  and  patient  races 
would  have  yielded  early  in  the  struggle. 
The  obstacle  offered  by  the  wind,  to  which 
the  flat,  low-lying  country  gives  an  unlim- 
ited sweep,  they  converted  into  a  working 
force  by  erecting  mills  along  the  canals  and 
on  the  height  of  city-walls,  and  making  the 
destructive  element  turn  their  wings.  The 
other  natur.'d  obstacle  tiiev  met  in  a  way  no 
less  ingenious.  Belgium  contains  no  stone : 
the  soil  being  composed  of  a  thick,  adhesive 
clay,  niir^'  and  viscous.  But  the  people, 
rich  in  expedients,  baked  the  apparently 
useless  substance,  and  so  produced  brick 
and  tile,  which  are  the  best  of  defences 
against  dampness.  Thus,  constantly  in 
presence  of  real  enemies  whose  substance  or 
whose  effects  they  saw  with  corporeal  vision, 
these  men  gradually  acquired  minds  wholly 
positive  and  ])ractical.  And  the  obstacles 
being  of  durable  nature,  the  qualities  of 
those  who  resisted  them  became  alike  per- 
manent :  a  fact  accounting  for  the  high  po- 
sition which  Belgium  to-day  occupies  in 
finance,  industry,  applied  science  and  com- 
merce. The  universities  and  technical 
schools  of  the  country  deal  with  the  prob- 
lems which  actually  confront  the  people, 
and  the  enlightened  sovereign   devotes  his 

310 


life  and  fortune  to  further  the  prosperity 
of  his  kingdom.  Belgian  discoveries,  in- 
ventions and  processes  are  accepted  in  all 
countries  in  which  progress  and  intelligence 
are  active.  Belgian  jiroducts  and  manu- 
factures are  creating  markets  at  remote 
points  of  the  less  accessible  continents ; 
while  the  enormous  capital  amassed  by  the 
same  laborious  people  is  seeking  productive 
employment  in  the  financial  and  industrial 
centers  of  both  worlds.  Therefore,  the  les- 
son to  be  gained  by  a  passage  through  the 
little  kingdom,  even  though  no  descent 
should  be  made  from  the  railway  train,  is 
one  that  must  be  mastered  by  every  indi- 
vidual who,  surrounded  bj'  obstacles,  yet 
aspires  to  success.  The  scene  spread  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  the  traveler  is  a  vital  proof 
that  the  bitterest  and  most  searching  trials 
can  be  changed  into  triumjihs  through 
tlie  exercise  of  supreme  patience,  constant 
watchfulness  and  alert  intelligence.  The 
Belgians  have  practically  discovered  the 
iniignain  opus  of  the  old  alchemists,  by 
which  it  was  believed  that  vile  matter  could 
l)e  converted  into  pure  gold.  They  have 
the  genius  of  connnon  sense. 

The  system  of  agriculture  practised  in 
the  country  and  its  remarkable  results  merit 
special  attention.  Of  the  entire  area  of 
the  kingdom  only  one-half,  or  less,  offers 
conditions  favorable  to  cultivation.  The 
remaining  half  consists  of  a  gravelly  soil, 
or  sands,  the  natural  sterilit}'  of  which  can 
be  overpowered  only  by  heavy  composts. 
The  most  unproductive  of  such  lands  are 
naturally  those  which  extend  along  the 
coast  and  have  been  thrown  up  by  the  ac- 
tion of  wind  and  waves.  At  first,  they  are 
unresponsive  to  cultivation,  and  ott'er  little 
support  to  vegetable  life.      But  being  sub- 


CHIPS 


jccted  to  the  most  skill'ul  and  patient  treat- 
ment, tlicy  are  gradually  developed  and  fer- 
tilized. To  this  end,  thev  are  annually 
sown  with  the  plants  which  most  readily 
take  root  in  sterile  soil,  such  as  the  reed- 
grass,  whose  tough  fibres,  spreading  in  all 
directions,  finally  consolidate  the  sand, 
create  a  rudimentary  vegetable  soil,  and 
thus  prepare  the  land  to  nourish  higlier 
forms  of  plant-life.  The  treatment  is  thus 
progressive,  and  the  ultimate  result  is  the 
formation  of  an  agricultural  district,  smil- 
ing and  fertile. 

If  the  barren  lands  are  thus  caused  to 
change  their  character,  those  naturally  cul- 
tivable are  made  to  multiply-  their  product- 
ive powers  by  a  system  of  "intensive  agri- 
culture," which  has  been  slowh'  and  .solidly 
constructed  from  the  experience  of  farmers 
who  never  relax  their  vigilance,  or  yield  to 
their  fatigue.  The  results  obtained  from 
Belgian  and  French  lands  is  contrasted  by 
Prince  Kropotkin  in  his  '"Fields,  Factories 
and  \Vork.shops"  with  the  conditions  pre- 
vailing in  England.  In  that  work,  he  al- 
ludes to  London  as  "a  city  of  five  million 
inhabitants,  supplied  with  Flemish  and  Jer- 
sey potatoes,  French  salads  and  Canadian 
apples."  He  views  with  great  regret  the 
extensive  idle  areas  lying  about  the  capital, 
which  only  need  human  labor  to  become  an 
inexhaustible  source  of  golden  crops,  and 
writes  that  his  counsels  were  met  by  the 
reply  of  "Heavy  Cla},"  which  was  prompt- 
ed by  pure  ignorance;  since  in  the  hands 
of  man  there  are  no  unfertile  soils.  He  con- 
tinues that  man,  not  Nature,  has  given  to 
the  Belgian  lands  their  pre.sent  productive- 
ness, and  concludes  by  the  statement  that 
with  this  artificial  soil  and  intense  human 
labor,  Belgium  succeeds  in  supplying  near- 


ly all  the  food  of  a  jiopulation  which  is 
denser  than  that  of  England  and  Wales, 
niunbering  five  hundred,  forty-four  inhab- 
itants to  the  square  mile. 

But  these  are  dry  statistics  incapable  of 
conveying  a  definite,  concrete  idea  save  to 
the  mind  of  the  investigator  alone.  The 
ordinary  person,  to  appreciate  this  intensive 
agriculture,  must  see  displayed  before  his 
eyes  the  synnnetry,  the  rich  color-schemes, 
the  luxuriance  of  the  Belgian  fields.  It  is 
a  picture  never  to  be  forgotten ;  a  beauti- 
ful expression  of  Nature's  gratitude  to- 
ward man's  labor.  Water-courses,  green 
fields,  wind-mills  and  willow  trees  present 
themselves  in  endless  succession,  throughout 
the  kingdom,  to  tlie  eyes  of  the  traveler: 
each  feature  of  the  landscape  having  a  dis- 
tinct value  both  economic  and  aesthetic ;  as, 
for  example,  the  willows,  which,  here,  fully 
as  decorative  as  are  the  poplars  to  the  Lom- 
bard plain,  are  specially  cultivated  in  order 
to  provide  the  basketry  necessary  to  render 
the  dykes  firm  and  durable.  The  country 
lies,  delicately-tinted  and  broad,  like  a  pic- 
ture by  Ilobbema,  enlarged  and  animated. 
It  needs  no  figures  in  the  landscape  to  re- 
lieve the  solitude.  For  the  spirit  of  hu- 
manity is  inijiressed  upon  it  by  innumerable 
evidences  of  labor.  It  is  cheerful  and  in- 
spiring, causing  one  to  forget  the  only  un- 
happy condition  attendant  upon  Flemish 
agriculture:  that  is,  the  steady  and  heavy 
increase  of  rent,  in  the  face  of  which  many 
farmers  have  lately  abstained  from  further 
improvements.  But  for  the  foreigner  and 
spectator,  unaffected  by  this  condition, 
there  is  no  more  encouraging  sight  than  is 
offered  by  a  passage  through  Belgium.  He 
realizes  the  possibilities  of  lands  which,  to 
borrow  the  expression  of  the  British  econo- 

311 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


mist,  James  Caird,  are  not  stoned  of  human 
labor,  as  also,  the  possibilities  of  comfort 
and  contentment  to  be  reached  in  a  country 
in  which  the  agricultural  classes  should  not 
be  drawn  away  by  false  hopes  to  reinforce 
tiie  ranks  of  the  unemployed  in  great  cities. 
Also  another  source  of  keen  pleasure  to 
the  traveler  originates  in  the  people  and  the 
jiroducts  of  the  country.  This  is  afforded 
by  the  open-air  markets  overflowing  witli 
fruits  and  vegetables,  and  teeming  with 
])easant-t_ypes  which  cause  the  visitor  to 
wonder  whether  the  figure-models  and  the 
still-life  studies  of  the  old  Netherland  paint- 
ers have  not  been  preserved  down  to  tlie 
twentieth  century  b}'  some  system  of  spir- 
itual cold  storage.  Here  are  tlie  very  wo- 
men of  Hans  Memling  and  Quinten  Matsys, 
with  their  florid  flesh-tints,  their  round  blue 
eyes,  their  high  and  protuberant  cheek- 
bones, and,  above  all,  their  red-gold  hair, 
which  suggested  the  insignia  of  the  Order 
of  the  Golden  Fleece.  They  offer,  in  their 
somewhat  harsh  and  guttural  tongue,  the 
originals  of  the  cabbages,  onions  and  salad, 
which  the  traveler  has  just  seen  pictured 
down  to  the  very  snail  crawling  on  the  leaf, 
in  the  Fine  Arts  Museum  of  the  city.  It 
appeai-s  almost  impossible 'that  centuries, 
witli  their  religious,  political  and  social 
vicissitudes,  have  passed  over  the  heads  of 
the  people  without  changing  materially 
their  physical  appearance,  or  their  manners 
and  ways  of  life.  The  old  artists  of  the 
Netherlands — painters  and  carvers — sought 
their  models  in  public  gatherings :  in  church 
and  guild-house,  in  the  moving  throngs  of 
street  and  square.  They  painted  what  they 
saw:  idealizing  nothing,  rendering  the  ugly 
with  truth  and  courage,  and  so  producing 
an    art    consonant    with    all    else    that    has 


sprung  from  the  brain  of  the  race.  They 
were  as  practical,  as  patient,  as  observant, 
as  lacking  in  mysticism,  as  the  Netherland 
])easant,  who  to-day  sj)ends  a  world  of  in- 
telligent labor  upon  the  composition  of  a 
fertilizer  by  which  to  produce  a  succulent 
vegetable,  or  a  splendid,  hardy  flower 
which  shall  add  to  the  wealth  and  reputa- 
tion of  his  fatherland.  In  these  countries, 
traditions  are  strong,  in  fact,  almost  un- 
broken from  the  Middle  Ages ;  progress 
advances  logically,  and  the  sense  of  solid- 
ity in  all  things  inspires  confidence  and 
contentment.  Life  to  the  Netherlander  con- 
sists in  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of 
material  things.  With  his  practical  sense 
of  value  he  makes  good  and  beautiful  what- 
ever his  hand  touches,  whether  he  is  a  son 
of  the  soil,  an  artisan,  or  3'et  a  producer  of 
"grand  art."  So,  the  Belgian  streets  are 
themselves  museums,  and  the  traveler, 
weary  of  walls  and  waxed  floors,  can  find 
the  same  artistic  types  and  subjects  offered 
in  the  open  market-place,  as  in  the  church 
or  gallery.  The  hcguine,  the  cloaked 
bourgcoise,  the  fishwife  witii  her  basket  on 
iier  arm,  the  smoker  in  a  darkened  estam- 
inet.  the  opulent  citizen  honored  for  his 
public  gifts :  all  these  are  seen  equally 
within  frames  whose  extreme  richness  wit- 
nesses the  value  of  the  canvas  enclosed,  and 
in  living  presence,  threading  the  thorough- 
fares of  the  towns  and  fulfilling  the  tasks 
of  their  station  and  calling. 

One  picturesque  feature  of  the  streets 
of  the  Belgian  cities — and  one  onlj* — 
causes  regret  to  rise  in  the  heart  of  every 
sympathetic  visitor :  that  is,  the  employ- 
ment of  dogs  as  beasts  of  burden.  It  mat- 
ters not  that  the  animals  of  the  species  per- 
forming: the  heaviest  labor  have  been  fitted 


312. 


CHIPS 


to  their  condition  by  iiercditv  ;  tluit  tliey 
are  large,  strong  and  long-lived,  in  spite 
of  the  hardsiiips  to  which  thej'  are  subject- 
ed. Tiie  soft  paw  of  the  dog  is  a  mark  set 
upon  him  by  tlie  Divine  Intelligence  as  a 
token  that  he  should  not  labor.  The  sight 
of  these  animals  with  straining  muscles  and 
feet  flattened  against  the  pavement,  draw- 
ing the  milk-carts,  which,  heavy  in  them- 
selves, are  still  more  heavily  laden  with 
great  brass  vessels,  is  little  short  of  agoniz- 
ing. The  memory  of  the  novelist  who 
espoused  the  cause  of  these  ill-paid  laborers, 
comes  to  the  mind  of  the  spectator,  who 
sees  in  each  dumb  suff'erer  Ouida's  dog-hero 
of  Flanders,  Patrasche.  JIuzzled  while 
they  work,  the  dogs  become  dangerous  when 
they  are  released  from  their  harness ;  they 
seem  always  at  the  point  of  making  attack, 
and  snarl  when  approached  however  gently. 
They  have  the  faces  of  malcontents,  and 
their  condition  seems  hopeless,  since  they 
lack  that  resource  of  oppressed  human  la- 
borers which  resides  in  organization.  But 
V'et  it  is  an  exaggeration  to  sa\'  that  there 
is  no  hope  for  these  speechless  workers  in  a 
country  which  keeps  its  traditions  with  un- 
broken tenacity.  The  hope  conies  from  the 
Humane  Society,  which  is  now  rising  to  ac- 
tivity throughout  Belgium:  interfering 
with  the  cruelty  of  the  peasants  and  dis- 
playing in  the  great  squares  of  the  cities, 
on  structures  as  conspicuous  as  the  Belfry 
of  Bruges,  the  merciful  warning:  '''Traitez 
lea  animaux  avec  douceur." 

The  warning  just  quoted  appears  in 
French,  as  do  the  official  notices  and  ordi- 
nances, which  in  Belgium,  as  in  many  other 
countries  of  the  continent,  so  deface  the 
walls  of  public  buildings.  But  in  spite  of 
the    wide    and    old-established    use   of    the 


court  language  and  of  tiie  jirepondcrance 
of  Brussels,  the  capital,  which  closely  re- 
sembles a  French  city,  there  is  now  in  pro- 
gress a  Flemish  revival  which  promises  to 
renew  the  people  and  country,  in  all  tiiat 
concerns  citizenship,  civic  art  and  the  sense 
of  nationality.  In  the  year  ISDi,  a  body 
of  learned  men  and  artists  was  commis- 
sioned by  the  Government  to  preserve  and 
restore  the  monuments,  both  civic  and  eccle- 
siastical, of  the  Belgian  cities,  as  well  as  to 
make  sightly  and  beautiful  all  those  new 
features  of  municipal  life  which  are  neces- 
sitated by  modern  ideas  of  convenience  and 
progress.  The  results  already  attained  by 
the  commission  are  such  as  to  awaken  en- 
thusiasm in  any  heart  capable  of  patriotism 
and  sensitive  to  beauty.  Relieved  of  the 
defacement  inflicted  by  time  and  enemies, 
the  old  guild-houses  now  surround  the 
squares,  quaint  with  their  insignia  and  de- 
vices, strongly  accented  with  their  minutely 
restored  Flemish  features,  and  made  attrac- 
tive with  dates  and  inscriptions.  Foun- 
tains and  statues  rise  from  market-places 
and  at  street-angles,  perpetuating  local 
legends  and  honoring  local  heroes.  Ever^'- 
where,  the  same  story  is  told,  the  same  sen- 
timents are  expressed,  the  same  memories 
evoked.  In  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries,  the  states  now  constituting  Bel- 
gium, in  many  respects,  held  the  first  rank 
among  European  powers.  Nowhere  was 
civil  liberty  more  extended  or  more  secure. 
The  people  of  these  regions  participated  in 
their  own  government.  The  rich  com- 
munes possessed  woolen  and  linen  industries 
which  were  without  rivals  in  the  world.  The 
names  of  the  Flemish  merchant  princes  were 
absolutely  guarantees  of  good  faith.  The 
arts    flourished,    and    religious    dissensions 

313 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


were  not  as  yet  pronounced,  scarcely  even 
manifest.  A  great  citizen,  Jacques  van 
Artevelde,  already  in  the  fourteenth  cent- 
ury, had  a  vision  of  a  Belgian  fatherland, 
since  he  allied  together  in  close  treaty  the 
principal  elements  of  the  nation  as  now 
constituted.  Bruges  and  Ghent  stood  be- 
fore the  world  as  models  of  municipal  con- 
stitution, of  civic  splendor,  of  financial 
liont)r  and  success.  Traditions  of  govern- 
ment antl  society,  of  art  and  craftsmanship 
were  founded,  too  strong  to  be  effaced  in 
hereditary  mind  of  the  j)eople  by  wars  or 
revolutions  and  the  ciiaos  resulting  there- 
from. Communal  liberty  cast  out  such 
deep  roots  that  wars,  persecutions,  the  po- 
litical injustice  of  neighboring  nations 
were  not  sufficient  to  destroy  the  sturdy  or- 
ganism. The  wars  of  religion  waged  in 
all  sections  of  the  country  and,  prolonged 
bevond  all  measure,  destroyed  agriculture. 
Spanish  jjersecutiim  provoked  emigration, 
so  that  thousands  of  skilled  Flemish  arti- 
sans sought  personal  safety  in  France, 
England  and  Holland.  The  pillage  of 
Antwerp,  tlie  closing  of  the  Schelde  to  nav- 
igation, the  blockade  of  the  Flemish  coasts 
paralvzed  commerce.  The  adroit  policy  of 
Louis  Fourteenth,  by  attracting  to  France 
the  most  skilful  artists  and  artisans,  ruined 
Flemish  industries  by  a  pitiless  system  of 
competition. 

But  through  all  misfortunes  the  civic 
idea  persisted.  At  the  slightest  indication 
of  calmer  and  hapj)ier  times  the  old  spirit 
grew  exuberant.  Within  seventy  years 
from  the  present  time,  the  fourteenth- 
century  concept  of  the  Belgian  fatherland 
has  been  realized  and  the  nation  consoli- 
dated, commerce  and  industry  reorganized, 
and  the  fine  arts  revived.      Latest  of  all  has 


occurred  the  renascence  of  that  architecture 
which  is  so  inseparably  connected  with  the 
history    of    civic    liberty.      Interest    again 
centers  in  the  belfries,  the  town-halls,  the 
corj)oration-houses,  and   with   the   concern 
for  the  edifice,  there  also  rises  regard  for 
the  principle  of  liberty  and  progress  which 
it  represents.      Thus  the  chimes  with  their 
peculiarly   sonoi'ous   metal   speak   with   re- 
newed eloquence  of  the  resistance  to  foreign 
tvranny  made  by  the  guild-mastei's  and  pro- 
claimed by  their  own   far-reaching  voices. 
The  walls  and  ceilings  of  the  town-halls  are 
being  spread  by  the  hands  of  the  most  noted 
painters  with  scenes  of  old  glory  and  splen- 
dor, picturing  great  ejDochs  or  moments  in 
municipal  history.      The  corporation  houses, 
])erhai)s  the  dearest  of  all  structures  to  the 
truly  Flemish  heart,  have  been  protected  by 
a  government  decree  from  all  change,  ex- 
cept that  of  restoration.      Advisedly  be  it 
said  that  these  houses  were  so  cherished  in 
times  long  since  vanished.      They  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  olijects  of  the  tenderest 
solicitude,  since  they  stood  for  all  that  was 
brightest  in  the  lives  of  the  old  Flemish  cit- 
izens.     These  were  the  places  of  their  per- 
sonal triumph.s,  as  when  they  presented  to 
the    guild-jury    the    pieces    of  their    work 
which    should    entitle    them    to    mastership 
in  their  chosen  art  or  craft.      The  houses 
were  consecrated  as  the  homes  of  their  fra- 
ternities,  and   associated  in   a   less   serious 
way  with  their  memories  of  famous  feasts. 
They  are  now  revered,  like  the  town-halls, 
for  the  idea  which  they  represent,  and  which 
has  yet  to-day  more  than  a  sentimental  value : 
since  organization  is  still  a  passion  with  the 
Belgian  citizen,  who  allies  himself  with  as- 
sociations whose  object  may  be  the  cultiva- 
tion  of  music   or   flowers,   the   practice   of 


311 


ARTS   A\D  CRAFTS 


archery,  or  the  breeding  of  homing  pigeons 
or  singing  birds.  Nor  is  the  spirit  of  ri- 
\ii\ry  between  corporations  extinct.  It  still 
often  approaclies  the  ludicrous,  and  some- 
times the  dangerous,  as  may  be  learned 
from  the  romances  of  the  Brussels  advocate, 
Leon  Couroubles,  who  is  now  lending  him- 
self heart  and  soul  to  the  Flemish  Re- 
nascence. 

This  movement,  if  considered  in  tlie  re- 
stricted sense  of  literature,  began  far  back 
in  the  nineteenth  century  with  the  poet 
Willems,  whose  dignified  monument  stands 
in  the  cathedral  square  of  Ghent,  showing 
tiie  figure  of  Flanders,  typified  by  a  woman 
in  mediaeval  garb,  attended  by  a  youthful 
and  athletic  champion.  And  many  such 
tiiere  are,  not  only  in  the  cause  of  literature, 
but  also  in  that  of  the  language,  which, 
owing  to  cert;iin  religious  and  political  rea- 
sons, degenerated  with  the  Flemings  into  a 
patoix.  while  in  Holland,  having  been  puri- 
fied by  scholars  and  scientists,  it  was  em- 
Ijellished  by  writers  of  j)ure  literature.  To- 
day in  Relgivun  the  Vlaomsche  Bcxceg'ing 
( 1' lemish  movement)  is  broadcasting  its 
})rinciples,  chief  among  which  is  the  substi- 
tution of  Flemish  for  French  in  the  higher 
j)olitical  and  social  circles,  in  the  theatres, 
and  in  the  offices  of  the  government.  But  it 
does  not  necessarily  express  hostility  to  the 
\Valloon  element.  It  is  simply  a  single 
manifestation  of  that  multiform  national 
spirit  whose  enthusiasm  has  produced  such 
miracles  of  labor,  discovery,  invention  and 
art. 

From  the  review  of  a  movement  such  as 
this,  it  would  appear  that  in  the  little  king- 
dom of  Belgium  history  is  actively  making 
and  society  rapidly  advancing.  Therefore, 
The  Craftsman   returned   to  his  workshop 


bearing  with  him  a  store  of  rich  material 
which  he  nuist  laboriously'  liammer  and  weld 
into  form ;  bearing  also  tiie  conviction  that 
for  him,  as  for  Goethe's  Wajjner  bendine: 
over  a  rare  old  manuscript,  the  winter 
nights  to  be  spent  at  the  forge  or  the  bench 
"ill  "take  on  a  loveliness  untold." 


R 


i:CENT  EXHIBITIONS  OF 
ARTS  AND  CRAFTS  SOCIE- 
TIES. 


Tile  formation  of  numerous  arts  and 
crafts  societies  throughout  the  countrv,  and 
the  announcements  of  exhibitions  held  alike 
l)y  the  older  and  the  newer  of  such  associa 
tioiis.  are  encouraging  signs  of  the  times. 
Among  these  exhibitions  may  be  mentioned 
those  recently  held  by  the  Rhode  Island 
School  of  Design  (Autunni  Exhibition  of 
Paintings)  ;  the  Industrial  Art  League  of 
Chicago;  the  Guild  of  Arts  and  Crafts, 
San  Francisco ;  the  Woman's  Auxiliary, 
Ciiurcli  of  thr  Holy  Coimnniiioii,  St.  Peter, 
]\Iinii. :  The  Women's  Club,  ]\Iuskegon, 
Mich ;  The  Ladies'  Aid  Society,  Compton 
Heights  Christian  Church,  St.  Louis,  Mo. ; 
the  Richmond  Sketch  Club,  Richmond,  In- 
diana, and  an  exhibition  of  art-craftsman- 
ship, at  Pinebluff,  N.  C. 

All  the.se  enterprises  must  be  regarded  as 
prompted  by  the  active,  widely-j)reyailing 
desire  to  further  the  cause  of  art  allied  to 
labor.  But  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  the 
larger  portion  of  the  objects  so  exhibited 
are  of  bad  or  indifferent  workmanship, 
made  from  illy-combined  materials,  and  are 
anything  but  simple. 

The  error  of  many  of  these  exhibitors 
lies  in  their  ])resum])tioii.  They  may  be 
possessed  of  ideas  and  capacity,  but  they 


SIJ 


THE   CRAFTSIMAN 


lack  the  technical  skill  resulting  from  labor 
and  experience,  and  which  can  not  be  sup- 
j)lied  from  otlicr  sources. 

In  many  instances,  we  find  an  assemblage 
of  materials  having  among  themselves  no 
reciprocal  relationship,  such  as  should  al- 
ways exist ;  we  perceive  no  fitness  of  the 
object  to  its  use  and  no  nicety  of  execu- 
tion which  speaks  of  pleasure  in  labor. 
Once  again,  we  find  a  false  value  placed 
upon  many  of  these  objects,  which  is  based 
upon  the  time  consumed  in  making  them,  or 
upon  the  cost  of  the  materials  used ;  no  ac- 
count being  taken  of  the  completed  object, 
considered  as  to  its  artistic  effect,  or  the 
quality  of  its  workman.ship. 

For  the  success  of  the  arts  and  crafts 
movement,  which  is  capable  of  effecting 
much  good,  both  financial  and  aesthetic,  for 
the  entire  country,  it  is  necessary  to  raise 
the  standards  of  work,  even  though  to  en- 
force this  measure  were  to  dampen  the  en- 
thusiasm of  many  workers.  In  order  to 
gain  this  end,  co-operation  is  the  first  essen- 
tial. Before  us  lies  the  need  of  a  central- 
ized national  arts  and  crafts  society,  which 
shall  be  authoritative  and  powerful  enough 
to  formulate  sound  and  stable  principles,  to 
establish  ideals  of  conception  and  execution, 
regulate  the  production  of  work,  and  give 
direction  to  progress. 


Gardner  C.  Tcall.      The  portrait  first  ap- 
peared in  one  of  the  early  numbers  of  the 


N 


OTES. 


At  this  time,  when  all  that  attaches 
to  the  memory  of  Whistler  is  greeted  with 
so  much  interest,  it  seems  fitting  to  repro- 
duce one  of  the  most  truthful,  character- 
istic portraits  existing  of  the  lamented 
painter.  Our  illustration  is  here  presented 
by    permission    of    the    artist    and    writer, 

310 


A  dream  of  Whistler;  (iarduer  C.  Teall 

''Chap-Book,"  which  was  formerly  pub- 
lished in  Chicago.  Its  decorative  qualities 
are  excellent  and  it  merits  consideration  as 
an  example  of  the  proper  use  of  line  and 
spacing. 


c 


ORRESPONDENCE 


The  Editors  of  The  Cr.\ftsman 
find  pleasure  in  printing  a  letter  re- 
CENTLY   RECEIVED    BY    THEM    FROM    ]Mr.    F. 

H.  Daniels,  director  of  dr.\wixg  in  the 

PFBLIC  SCHOOLS  OF  SpRINGFIELD,  MASSA- 
CHUSETTS. Mr.  Daniels'  letter  is  writ- 
ten IN  A  spirit  of  courteous  and  friend- 
ly cRiTicisji.  It  witnesses  a  kind  of  in- 
terest,  WHICH,  WERE  IT  MORE  FREQUENT- 


CORRESPONDENCE 


LY  EXERTED,  WOULD  EFFECT  MANY  GOOD 

RESULTS.      Such    interest,    by    calling 

ATTENTION  TO  THE  QUALITIES  OF  THE 
OBJECTS  OF  SERVICE  AND  ORNAMENT  WHICH 
WE  INTRODUCE  INTO  OUR  HOMES,  WOULD 
AID  GREATLY  IN  FORMING  THE  POPULAR 
TASTE.  And  WITHOUT  .\  rUHLIC  OF  CRITICS 
THE  ARTIST  .AND  THE  .\RT-ARTIS-\N  C.\N 
NOT  EXIST.  ThEIK  POWERS  OF  PRODUCTION 
FAIL,  IF  THEY  BE  NOT  CONSTANTLY  FED, 
STRENGTHENED  AND  RENEWED  BY  ENTHT'- 
SIASM. 

The      LETTER      IS     SUBJOINED      IN      FULL. 

while  following  it  appears  -a.  reply  to 
the  severest  strictures  which  it  con- 
t.xins,  m.ade  not  with  the  desire  to  con- 
tinue the  -argument,  but  as  honest 
suggestions  prompted  by  the  criticism.. 
]Mr.  Gustav  Stickley, 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 

M;j  Dear  Sir:- — The  November  number 
of  Tlie  Craftsman  is  exceedingly  interest- 
ing. It  deals,  it  seems  to  me,  with  the 
practice,  the  art  of  home  making.  One 
cares  not  so  much  as  to  how  furniture  is 
made  for  use  in  Berlin,  or  Paris,  or  Vienna 
arts  and  crafts  exhibitions,  as  for  sim23le 
wording  and  illustrative  material  relating 
to  tried  and  successful  experiments  in  the 
fashioning  of  the  American  home.  I  con- 
gratulate you  upon  the  practical  helpful- 
ness of  your  magazine. 

I  am  looking  forward  with  interest  to 
tiie  publication  of  Craftsman  plans  for  a 
$2,000  to  $3,000  house.  As  far  as  I  know, 
the  problem  of  building  a  simple  house  for 
little  money  has  never  been  approached. 

To  some  of  us  whose  business  it  is  to 
preach,  as  best  we  may,  of  the  eternal  fit- 
ness of  things  as  a  text  in  the  gospel  of 
beauty,  it  would  appear  that  in  one  field 


you  are  producing  things  unworthv  to  be 
classed  with  other  Craftsman  products: 
things  which  must  sooner  or  later  bring 
criticism.  As  an  example,  may  I  give  rea- 
sons for  calling  your  jiiiiow  designs  (on 
page  94  of  the  Octolicr  Craftsman)  inade- 
quate? 

1.  A  sofa  cushion  is  not  made,  as  is  a 
picture,  to  be  placed  one  side  up  only,  hence 
a  sofa  cushion  whicli  violates  this  simple 
principle  of  fitness  to  pur])oso  is  as  incor- 
rect as  a  carpet  p;ittern  which  can  he  cor- 
rect]}' seen  from  one  side  of  tlio  room  onlv. 

2.  A  bear,  a  deer,  or  a  pine  tree,  has  no 
more  sj-mbolic  relation  to  your  home  life  or 
mine  than  a  roll-top  desk  would  have  to  the 
Pueblo  Indians.  Such  symbols  arc  entirclv 
out  of  place  in  our  houses.  'I'liey  serve 
merely  as  childish  curiosities  which  demand 
unceasing  explanation  and  apology  to  all 
who  dare  question. 

3.  The  design  for  a  sofa  cushion  should 
be  definitely  related  to  the  square  form  of 
the  cushion. 

It  seems  superfluous  to  add  that  a  con- 
ventional design  sliould  be  consistently  re- 
lated to  the  enclosing  form. 

It  is  only  because  your  products  are,  as 

a  rule,  inspiring  to  teachers  that  I  tiike  the 

liberty  of  writing  as  I  lune ;  even  tliough 

you   invite  criticism.     Criticism  is  usually 

a  thankless  task  at  the  best. 

Sincerely  \-ours, 

FRED  H.  D.V.NIKLS, 
Sprinpfield,  Mass. 

'J'lic  ])()iiit  numbered  one  in  Mr.  Daniels' 
letter  is  just  and  well  taken,  if  judged  by 
the  princijilcs  of  design  alone.  But  it  may 
be  urged  that  as  continued  usage  sometimes 
justifies  a  pronunciation  condemned  b}'  the 
purists,  so  a  parallel  case,  at  rare  intervals, 

31T 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


occurs  in  matters  of  art.  The  sofa-pillow 
has  become  as  essential  a  part  of  the  college 
boy's  outfit,  as  his  "trot"  to  the  classics,  and 
a  faithful  son  of  any  great  institution 
would  never  invert  the  symbol  of  his  gra- 
cious Foster-^Iother.  He  at  once  recog- 
nizes that  a  pillow,  like  a  wall-  or  door- 
hanging,  like  a  mussulnian's  prayer-carpet 
also,  may  have  toji  and  bottom  definitely 
fixed.  The  sofa -pillow  is  an  old  trespasser 
upon  the  laws  of  decorative  art.  The 
Craftsman  design  has  but  "followed  the 
multitude  to  do  evil."' 

In  point  two,  Mr.  Daniels  is  unjustly 
severe.  He  also  resorts  to  an  oratorical 
trick  bv  attempting  to  deflect  attention 
from  the  ijuestion  involved.  The  allusion 
to  the  combinatiiiu  of  roll-top  desk  and 
Fuei)lo  Indian  is  calculated  to  cast  ridicule 
upon  his  opponent.  By  such  a  method  in- 
justice is  done  to  the  ijuestion  under  discus- 
sion. Fui'ther,  j\Ir.  Daniels  errs  in  criticis- 
ing the  decorative  motif  itself,  rather  than 
the  form  in  whii-h  it  here  a])])ears.  He  is 
wrong  when  he  says  that  the  deer,  the  bear, 
the  ])ine-tree,  and  other  symliols  of  the  kind, 
have  no  ))lace  in  our  homes.  For  should  he 
succeed  in  excluding  these,  why  not  extend 
his  crusade  to  the  alligator  design,  existing, 
more  or  less  disguised,  in  almost  every  Ori- 
ental rug?  Tiiis,  too,  if  examined  with 
the  sami'  critical  eve  that  condemns  the 
Indian  forest-symbols,  may  also  be  stig- 
matized as  a  "childish  curiosity"  demanding 
increasing  explan.ation  and  a])ology.  The 
motifs  introduced  upon  the  pillow  illustrat- 
ed in  the  October  Craftsman,  are  as  easily 
justifialile  as  any  others  which  might  have 
been  used  in  their  stead.  They  were  a  mat- 
ter of  choice,  pure  and  simple.  "The  Hap- 
py Hunting  Ground"  is  as  noble  a  theme  as 

318. 


the  Egyptian  lotus.  Both  are  subjects  to 
be  honored,  because  they  are  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  religions  of  primitive 
peoples. 

The  method  of  employing  the  Indian 
motifs  upon  the  jjillow  was  frankly  tenta- 
tive. The  symbols  contiiuie  to  be  used 
similarly,  in  the  hope  that  some  one  of  their 
combinations  may  parallel  the  successful 
exj)ci-iment  of  Beau  BrumuKTs  valet,  who, 
one  day,  after  tying  his  master's  cravat, 
pointed  to  a  mass  of  crumpled  linen  on  his 
arm,  saying:  "These  are  our  failures." 

The  third  point  maintained  by  Mr.  Dan- 
iels is  well  grounded ;  in  the  present  case 
unanswerable.  The  rules  with  which  he 
deals  are  set  uj)  in  the  Forum  of  Art,  "plain 
for  all  eyes  to  see."  Again  he  is  to  be 
thanked  for  his  eai'nest  endeavor  to  instruct 
the  people  in  the  law  of  aesthetic  criticism. 
By  those  whom  ho  has  censured  he  is  dis- 
missed with  the  Aral)  I)ene(liction  :  "]\Iay 
his  tril)e  increase !" 


M 


I',:\IOBABLF  IN  THE  NOVEM- 
BER MAGAZINES. 


'I'lu'  leading  article  in  Sri!inxKu"s  for  No- 
x'ember  is  an  estimate  of  the  painter  Sargent 
by  Royal  Cortissoz.  The  writer  indicates 
the  debt  of  ]\Ir.  Sargent  to  ^^elasquez  and 
Franz  Hals,  and  to  the  modern  portrait- 
artist,  Carolus-Duran.  He  continues  by 
paying  tribute  to  the  technical  Cjualities  of 
the  American,  making  special  reference  to 
his  accomplishments  in  nuiral  painting, 
which  have  powerfully  aided  the  United 
States  to  take  a  leading  place  among  the 
nations  in  this  important  branch  of  art. 
The  writer,  although  sound  in  criticism,  is 
far  from  justifiable  in  style.     He  lacks  re- 


liOOK   REVIEWS 


finenit'iit  of  expression,  showing  an  extrava- 
gant use  of  the  adjective,  and  introducing 
fantastic  assemblages  of  words.  As  an  ex- 
ample of  the  last  defect  tiie  following  sen- 
tences mav  be  quoted:  In  Sargent's  work 
"there  are  none  of  those  disorderly  flights 
of  fancy,  of  those  wild  cavortings  in  the 
clouds,  of  those  grotesque  bodily  foreshort- 
enings  and  scandalous  reversals,  which  the 
European  painters  have  inherited  from  their 
forerunners  of  tlie  late  Renascence  and  the 
Decadence." 

The  Akt  Portfolio  of  the  Interna- 
tional Studio,  sent  out  by  John  Lane,  is 
deserving  of  extended  appreciation.  Some 
of  the  subjects  here  included  have  appeared 
in  the  magazine,  but  the  greater  nuinber  of 
them  are  new  to  the  general  public.  The 
processes  used  in  reproduction  are  excellent, 
and  the  rearrangement  in  color  of  the  cover- 
design  by  H.  Anning  Bell  is  especially 
pleasing. 

As  commendation  can  never  come  too  late, 
a  tardy  mention  of  the  October  number  of 
The  Studio  will  not  here  be  out  of  place. 
Its  principal  feature  of  interest  is  the  re- 
new of  the  life  and  work  of  the  recently  de- 
ceased painter  and  etcher,  Whistler;  the 
text  of  the  article  being  accurate  and  of 
great  interest,  and  the  colored  plates  of  re- 
markable beauty. 

The  Keramic  Studio  for  November  of- 
fers a  number  of  fine  plates,  with  some  of 
them  in  color.  Among  the  best  of  these  is 
the  "Conventional  Design  for  a  Stein,"  by 
Sara  Wood-Safford,  reproduced  upon  a 
supplementary  sheet.  The  merit  of  this 
design  lies  in  its  unity:  the  grapes  which 
are  used  as  a  decorative  motif  being  so  ar- 


ranged as  to  form  a  structural  part  of  the 
vessel. 

The  November  number  of  Handicraft 
consists  of  a  monograph  upon  "The  Silver- 
smith's Tools."  This  is  an  exhaustive 
treatise  upon  the  subject  chosen,  containing 
full  technical  explanations,  made  in  the 
sim2)lest  way  and  in  the  plainest  terms,  and 
illustrated  by  attractive  line-cuts.  It  is 
written  in  excellent  English:  an  essential 
too  often  lacking  in  craftsman  literature. 

The  occasional  publications  of  Julius 
Hoffman,  issued  at  Stuttgart  and  entitled 
Der  ]\Ioderne  Stil  and  Moderne  Baufor- 
MEN,  continue  to  be  progressive  and  inter- 
esting. They  contain  large  and  carefully 
selected  collections  of  designs  and  plans, 
which  do  credit  to  the  diligence,  judgment 
and  good  taste  of  the  compiler. 

In  Out  West  for  October,  there  occurs 
an  article  of  more  than  ordinary  value,  by 
Grace  Ellery  Channing.  It  is  entitled: 
"What  we  can  learn  from  Rome,"  and  treats 
of  the  great  water-system  of  the  ancient  and 
the  modern  city.  From  facts  relative  to  the 
influence  of  an  ample  water-supply  upon 
the  life  of  the  Romans,  the  writer  draws  a 
lesson  for  the  people  of  our  own  country. 
She  says :  "We  have  already  the  climate  of 
Rome  and  her  natural  beauty  ....  With 
water.  Southern  California  would  be  unap- 
proachable— the  finest  southern  country 
given  to  man."  In  conclusion.  Miss  Chan- 
ning ventures  a  prophecy  that  "the  time 
will  come  when  every  work  of  utility'  will  be 
a  work  of  beauty,  like  the  Roman  aqueduct." 
She  says  truly  that  the  palaces  were  for  the 
Caesars,  the  churches  were  for  the  purple 
hierarchy,  the  temples  were  for  the  gods  and 


SIS 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


the  trophies  of  the  conquerors,  the  water 
was  for  all,  the  one  copious  blessing  of  the 
wretched  plebs." 

The  editorial  columns  of  The   Basket 
contain  an  explanation  of  the  charm  that 
the  world  is  now  finding  in  the  basketry, 
blankets  and  pottery  of  the  primitive  Amer- 
ican race.      The  writer,  unquestionably  Mr. 
George  Wharton  James,  finds  this  explana- 
tion in  the  principle  of  individualism  which 
was  developed  in  the  Indian  artist-crafts- 
woman   by   the   lack   of   regular   training, 
books,     and     comparative      solitude.      She 
found  and  collected  her  own  materials,  made 
and  used  her  own  dyes,  conceived  her  own 
designs  and  afterward  realized  them  in  her 
work.      She  was  thus  self-made  and  power- 
ful, and  gave  to  her  creations  that  vitality 
without  which  no  object  fashioned  by  the 
human  hand   can  have   lasting  interest  or 
value. 

A  late  number  of  The  Coxgregation- 
ALisT  AND  Christian  World  presents  an 


article,    sympathetic    and    inspiring,    upon 
"The   Friiits   of   Work,"   by   the   eminent 
Scottish  divine,  Hugh  Black.     This  writer 
investigates  the  causes  of  the  mental  health- 
fulncss   of   labor.      "In   work,"   he    writes, 
"we   are   taken   out   of   ourselves,   removed 
from   petty   annoyance,   and   all  the   small 
personalities  that  embitter  life.      The  direst 
misery  is  the  result  of  a  self-centered  hfe. 
Unhappiness  can  not  exist  in  the  keenest 
form   where   self   is   forgotten,   and   in  all 
work  worth  doing  there  is  concentration  of 
all  the  powers,  and  a  forgetf ulness  of  every- 
thing, except  how  to  do  it  well.     True  work 
means  independence  of  outside  criticism  and 
outside  interference.     A  worker  has  no  time 
to  brood  over  fancied  slights ;  he  can  forget 
the  world  in  doing  his  duty.      Things  done 
well,   and  with  a  care,   exempt  themselves 
from    fear."     These   are   thoughts   seldom 
met   in  the   materialistic  world  of  to-day. 
They  are  positive  aids  to  existence,  as  neces- 
sary in  their  way  as  oxygen,  as  invigorat- 
ing and  life-supporting. 


3S0 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Vol 


.1  AX   I    A  K  V      1  It  0  4 


Xo.    4 


THE  1  KANC  ISC  AN  MISSION  BUILD- 
INGS OF  CALIFOKNIA.  15Y  (iEORGE 
AVIIAKION  .lA.MKS 

The  article  now  offered  upon  the  ^lissions 
of  California,  is  one  of  a  series  to  he  written 
for  The  Craftsman  hy  Mr.  Georg-e  Wharton 
James.  This  writer  purposed  at  first  to 
confine  himself  to  the  suhject  of  tlie  ])resent 
article,  hut  in  consequence  of  the  rapid  rise 
of  Ills  enthusiasm,  he  decided  to  extend  his 
limits  to  include  the  Missions  of  Arizona, 
New  Mexico  and  Texas.  For  nearly  twenty 
years,  'Sir.  James  has  heen  a  student  of  these 
localities,  but  during  the  publication  of  his 
papers,  lie  will  revisit  them  in  order  tliat  no 
detail  of  genei-al  or  specific  importance  he 
omitted  from  his  work. 

The  second  article,  to  aj)pear  in  tlie  Feb- 
ruary' issue  of  the  magazine,  will,  of  neces- 
sity, attract  a  wide  circle  of  readers,  both 
lay  and  jirofessional,  since  it  will  treat: 

"The  Influence  of  the  Mission  Style  upon 
the  Modern  Civic  and  Domestic  Architecture 
of  California." 


MANY  and  diverse  are  the  elements 
which  have  gone  into  the  making 
of  that  "State  of  the  Golden 
Gate"  of  which  Americans  gen- 
erally are  so  proud.  It  lias  been  the  stage 
upon  wiiicli  strangely  different  actors  have 
played  their  part — important  or  insignifi- 
cant— and  left  their  imjiress  where  they 
played.  It  has  been  a  composite  canvas 
upon  which  painters  of  every  school  have 


practised  their  art:  a  vivid  mass  of  color 
here,  a  touch  there,  a  single  stroke  of  the 
brush  yonder.  Then,  too,  look  at  it  as  you 
will,  stage  or  canvas,  it  had  a  marvellous 
n.-dural  setting.  Curtains,  side-wings, 
drops,  scenes,  accessories,  suitable  for  every 
play,  adequate  for  every  requirement. 
Tragedy.''  Great  mountains,  awful  snow 
storms,  trackless  sand-wastes,  fearful 
deserts,  limitless  canj-ons,  more  ocean  line 
than  an}-  other  of  the  North  American 
States,  and  the  densest  forests.  Comedy? 
Semi-tropical  verdure,  orange  blossoms, 
carj)ets  of  flowers,  delicate  waterfalls,  the 
singing  of  a  thousand  varieties  of  birds, 
the  gentlest  zephyrs,  the  bluest  of  blue 
skies.  What  wonder,  then,  as  its  history  is 
studied,  as  a  whole  or  in  parts,  that  it  is 
unusually  fascinating,  and  that  it  presents 
features  of  uni(iue  interest.'' 

The  country  itself  and  its  aboriginal  pop- 
ulation were  long  a  source  of  attraction  to 
the  Spanish  conquerors  of  the  New  World. 
Cabrillo  and  A'iscaino  had  sailed  uj)  its 
coast:  Alarcon  uj)  its  gulf  and  strange 
Eastern  river,  now  known  as  the  Colorado, 
and,  just  about  the  time  the  birth  agonj'  of 
a  new  country  was  beginning  on  the  West- 
ern shores  of  the  Atlantic,  events  were  shap- 
ing on  the  Eastern  shores  of  the  Pacific 
which  were  materially  to  affect  the  ultimate 
destiny  of  the  as  yet  unborn  nation.  It  is 
well  to  remember  these  two  simultaneous 
sj)heres  of  activity :  each  working  unknown 
to  the  other,  and  sej)arated  by  a  vast  conti- 
nent which  was  eventually  to  be  one  undi- 
vided counlrv:  great  battlefields,  ])regnant 

S91 


1^-. 

^.>- 

'^            -r;. 

-■'■  - ^-^- 

^' 

Fii^uiv 

.     San 

Juan 

( 'apistraim:   i 

loistei-s 

Fit'iirr  11.     Santa  HarlMla:  laraile 


S22 


FHAXCISC'.W     MISSION     I'.r  I  I .  I  )I  \(,S 


Kisruiv  III      Sail  (iiilirifl  ArL-hangi'l:  ciimpunile  and  side   wall 


events,  majestic  participants,  totally  differ- 
ing consequences.  On  the  Atlantic,  Patrick 
Henry,  Payne,  Jefferson,  Washington,  Ben- 
edict Arnold,  Andre,  Howe,  Cornwallis, 
Burgoyne,  Continentals,  English,  Hessians, 
Bunker  Hill,  Boston  Bay,  Trenton,  York- 
town,  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the 
abolishment  of  the  colonics,  the  l)irtli  of  tlie 
United  States:  all  these  are  keywords  and 
names  which  bring  before  us  the  greatest 
histor3--making  epochs  of  that  century. 

On  the  Pacific,  names  and  events,  less 
important,  yet  full  of  dignity  and  power: 
Serra,  Crespi,  Palou,  Portala,  Fages,  San 
Diego,  San  Francisco,  Monterey,  San  Gab- 
riel Archangel,  San  Juan  Capistrano,  and 
the  aliorigines  of  a  score  of  different  lin- 
guistic families. 


The  briefest  historical  outline  of  the 
founding  of  the  missions  is  all  that  can  be 
given  here.  The  Jesuits  had  planted  mis- 
sions in  Baja  (Lower)  California,  now 
known  to  us  as  the  Peninsula,  and  belonffinff 
to  Mexico.  In  the  religious  controversies 
of  the  time  the  Jesuits  were  expelled  from 
Mexico.  The  Dominicans  and  Franciscans 
were  allowed  to  remain.  To  them  naturally 
fell  the  care  of  the  deserted  Missions,  and 
the  work  of  founding  others  already  pro- 
jected. To  the  Franciscans  Alta  (upper) 
California,  or  what  is  now  the  state  of  Cali- 
fornia, was  allotted.  In  the  search  for  a 
suitable  president,  the  choice  of  the  College 
of  San  Fernando,  in  the  City  of  Mexico  (I  he 
head  of  the  Franciscan  f)rder  in  the  new 
world),  fell  upon  Padre  Junipero  Serra,  a 

3^3 


3-'-l. 


IRANCISCAN    .MISSION     151   II.DIXGS 


Spanish  priest  of  grout  eloquence,  intense 
fervor,  missionary  zeal  and  general  capa- 
hiiitv. 

The  expedition  for  the  christianizing  and 
colonizing  of  California  set  out  by  both  land 
and  sea  in  various  divisions.  Three  vessels 
sailed  respectivelx-  on  January  9.  February 
15.  and  June  16,  1769,  only  two  of  which 
reached  tiieir  destination  ;  tlie  third  being 
lost  and  never  again  iiearil  from.  Two  land 
expeditions  started,  in  one  of  wliich  was 
Serra,  who,  although  suffering  terribly 
from  an  ulcerated  kg,  persisted  in  walking 
all  the  way. 

On  July  1.  17(i!).  Serra  reached  San 
Diego,  and  on  the  Kith  of  the  same  month 
founded  the  mission  of  that  name.  Then, 
in  as  raj)id  succession  as  possible,  the  other 
missions  were  established,  the  Indians 
brought  under  control,  and  the  active  work 
of  christianizing  them  was  begun. 

The  picture  is  a  fascinating  one.  A 
handful  of  priests, hampered  by  long  gowns, 
in  a  far  away,  strange  land,  surrounded  by 
a  vast  population  of  aborigines  neither  as 
wild  and  ferocious,  nor  as  dull  and  stupid  as 
various  writers  have  described  them,  yet 
brave,  courageous,  liberty-loving  and  self- 
willed  enough  to  render  their  subjugation  a 
difficult  matter.  With  a  courage  that  was 
sublime  in  its  very  boldness,  and  which,  bet- 
ter than  ten  thousand  verbal  eulogies,  shows 
the  self-centered  confidence  and  mental 
poise  of  the  men,  this  handful  of  priests 
grappled  with  their  task,  brought  the  vast 
horde  of  untamefl  Indians  under  subjection, 
trained  them  to  systematic  work,  and,  in  a 
few  short  years,  so  thoroughlj-  accomplished 
wliat  they  had  determined,  that  the  Mission 
building  was  erected  l)y  these  former  sav- 


ages, who  were  made  useful   workers   in  a 
large  diversity  of  fields. 

For  the  i)uiklings  themselves — let  the  pic- 
tures, in  the  main,  make  their  own  explana- 
tion. It  will  be  well,  however,  to  call  atten- 
tion to  some  distinctive  features.  As  a 
ruK'.  the  Missions  were  built  in  the  form  of 
a  hollow  square:  the  Church  representing 
the  fa(,-a(le,  with  the  priests'  quarters  and 
the  houses  for  the  Indians  forming  tiie 
wings.  These  quarters  were  generally  col- 
onnaded or  cloistered,  with  a  series  of  semi- 
circular arches,  and  i-oofed  with  red  tiles 
(See  Figure  I).  In  the  interior  was  the 
j)iiti()  or  court,  which  often  contained  a 
foiuitain  and  a  gai-den.  Upon  this  patio 
opened  all  the  apartments:  those  of  the 
fathers  and  of  the  major-domo,  and  the 
guest-rooms,  as  well  as  the  workshops, 
school-rooms  and  storehouses. 

The  Indians'  quarters  were  generally  the 
most  sechided  parts  of  the  premises.  The 
young  girls  were  separated  rigidly  from 
the  boys  and  youths ;  the  first  named  being 
uiidiT  tjie  guardiansliii)  of  staid  and  trust- 
worthy Indian  women.  The  young  charges 
were  taught  to  weave,  spin,  sew,  embroider, 
make  bread,  cook,  and  to  engage  generally 
in  domestic  tasks,  and  were  not  allowed  to 
leave  the  "convent"  until  they  married. 

From  Figure  II,  showing  the  fa(^ade  of 
the  Santa  Barbara  Mission,  a  few  details 
mav  be  noted.  Here  the  engaged  colunms 
form  a  striking  feature,  there  being  six  of 
them,  three  on  cither  side  of  the  main  en- 
trance. The  ca])ital  here  used  is  the  Ionic 
volute.  The  entablature  is  somewhat  Gre- 
cian, the  decoration  being  a  variant  of  the 
Greek  fret.  The  pediment  is  simple,  with 
heavv  dentals  under  the  cornice.  A  niche 
containing  a  statue  occupies  the  center. 

H25 


336 


I'KAXCISCAX     MISSION     IIT  I  1 .1  )l  XCJS 


Tlic  first  story  of  the  towers  is  a  Iijii-li, 
plain,  solid  wall  with  a  simply  molded  cor- 
nice, composed  of  few,  but  heavy  ,uul  simple 
members,  upon  wliicli  rest  the  second  and 
third  stories,  each  receding  about  half  tlie 
thickness  of  the  walls  below.  Each  stor}^ 
is  furnislied  with  a  cornice  similar  to  the  one 
below,  and  the  two  upper  stories  are  pierceti 
with  semi-circular  arches  for  bells.  The 
walls  of  the  second  story  are  four  feet  three 
inches  in  thickness,  and  the  lower  walls  arc 
sustained  b_y  massive  buttresses  at  the  sides. 
Both  towers  are  surmounted  by  semi-circular 
domes  of  masonry  construction  with  cement 
finish,  above  which  rests  the  lantern  sur- 
mounted by  the  cross.  This  lantern  is  a 
marked  feature  of  ]Mission  construction.  It 
is  seen  above  the  domes  at  San  Buenaven- 
tura, San  Luis  Rey,  San  Xavier  del  Bac 
(Arizona),  as  well  as  on  one  or  two  of  the 
old  churches  at  San  Antonio,  Texas. 

Anotlier  Mission  feature  is  the  addition 
to  the  pediment.  This  consists  of  a  part  of 
the  main  front  wall  raised  above  the  pedi- 
ment in  pedestal  form,  and  ta])erin<r  in  small 
steps  to  the  center,  upon  whicli  rests  a  larfje 
iron  cross.  This  was  undoubtedly  a  simple 
contrivance  for  effectively  supporting  and 
raising  the  iMnblem  of  Salvation,  in  order 
thereby  more  impressively  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  Indian  beholder. 

This  illustration  also  shows  the  style  of 
connecting  tlie  priests'  quarters  in  the  man- 
ner before  described.  There  is  a  colonnade 
with  fourteen  semi-circular  arches,  set  back 
from  the  main  facade,  and  tili'd,  as  are  the 
roofs  of  all  the  buildings. 

The  careful  observer  may  ncjte  anotlier 
distinctive  feature  which  is  seldom  absent 
from  tlie  Mission  domes.  This  is  tlie  scries 
of  steps  at  each  "corner"  of  the  half  dome. 


Several  eminent  architects  have  told  me  that 
the  purpose  of  tliese  steps  is  luiknown,  but 
to  my  simple,  lay  iiiiiid  it  is  evident  lli.it  tjiey 
were  jilaced  there  purposely  by  the  clerical 
architects  to  afford  easy  access  to  tlie  sur- 
mounting cross :  so  that  any  accident  to  tliis 
sacred  symbol  could  l)e  speedily  remedied. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  tlie  fathers  were 
skilled  ill  reading  some  phases  of  the  Indian 
mind.  They  knew  that  an  accident  to  the 
Cross  might  work  a  coiii])Iete  revolution  in 
the  minds  of  the  superstitious  Indians  whose 
conversion  they  sought.  Hence  common, 
practical  sense  demandt^d  speedy  and  easy 
access  to  the  cross  in  case  such  emergency 
arose. 

Entirely  different,  yet  clearly  of  the  same 
school,  is  the  Mission  San  (xabriel  Arcli- 
angel.  The  Mission  it.self  was  founded  in 
1771.  l)ut  the  stone  church  here  pictured 
was  not  conijjletcd  until  1785.  In  this  the 
striking  feature  is  the  campanile,  from 
which  the  tower  at  the  Glcnwood  Hotel,  Riv- 
erside, was  undoubtedly  modeled.  This 
ci)ii>triKf ion  consists  of  a  solid  wall,  pierced 
at  irregular  intervals,  witii  arches  iiuilt  to 
correspond  to  tiie  si/e  of  tiie  bells  which  were 
to  be  hull"'  within  them.  The  bells  bcinc  of 
varying  sizes,  there  could  be  no  regularity 
in  the  arrangement  of  the  arches,  yet  the 
whole  bell  tower  is  beautiful  in  outline  and 
harmonious  in  general  effect.  On  the  left, 
the  wall  is  stej)j)ed  back  irregularly  up  to 
the  center  bell-aperture,  each  step  capped 
with  a  simple  projecting  molded  cornice,  a.s 
at  Santa  Barbara.  'I'hc  upper  aperture  is 
crowned  with  a  j)lain  masonry  elliptical 
arch,  uj)on  which  rests  a  wrought  iron  finial 
in  the  form  of  a  cross. 

The  walls  of  San  (labriel  are  supported 
by   ten   buttresses   with   pyramidal   copii  gs 

327 


3-^b 


FRAXCISCAX    .MISSION     l!riLI)I\(;S 


Sail  (_iabriel:  east  end 


(see  l-'igure  III).  Projecting  ledges  di- 
vide the  pyramids  into  tliree  unequal  por- 
tions. In  some  of  these  buttresses  are 
niches,  embellished  with  pilasters  wiiicji  sup- 
port a  complete  entablature.  At  the  base 
of  these  niclies  is  a  projecting  sill,  undoubt- 
edly a  device  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
greater  space  or  depth  in  whicli  to  place 
statues.  On  the  concave  surfaces  of  these 
niches  and  the  entablatures  it  is  j)ossible 
that  the  architects  designed  to  have  frescoes, 
as  such  decoration  is  often  found  on  both 
exterior  and  interior  walls,  although  some- 
times it  has  been  covered  by  vandal  white- 
washers.  In  several  of  the  Missions,  the 
spandrels  of  the  arches  show  evidence  of 
having  been  decorated  with  paintings,  frag- 
ments of  which  still  remain. 


I'igiirc  1\'  represents  San  Luis  Key,  by 
many  regarded  as  the  king  of  California 
Mission  structures.  In  this  illustration  will 
be  seen  one  of  the  strongest  features  of  this 
style,  and  one  that,  as  I  shall  show,  in  mv 
following  article,  has  had  a  wide  influence 
upon  our  modern  architecture.  This  fea- 
ture consists  of  the  stepped  and  curved  sides 
of  the  pediment. 

I  know  no  commonly  received  architect- 
ur;il  term  to  designate  this,  yet  it  is  found  at 
San  I, Ills  Key, San  Antonio  de  Padua,  Santa 
Inez,  and  at  other  places.  At  San  Luis  Rev. 
it  is  the  dominant  feature  of  the  extension 
wall  to  the  right  of  the  fa(;-adc  of  the  main 
building. 

On  this  San  Luis  j)ediment  occurs  a  lan- 
tern which  architects  regaril  as  mis|)laced. 

3i9 


-JH^ 


v.* 


^ 


'4-a 


330 


FRANC  IS(  AN    MISSION    111   Il.DlNC.S 


Yut  the  r'atlars'  inotivc  lor  its  pre-oiicc  is 
clear:  tliat  is.  tiio  upliftincr  of  the  Sign 
whcrchv  thu  Iiuliaiis  could  alone  find  salva- 
tion. 

In  the  f'a(|'a(le  at  San  Luis  there  are  three 
niches  for  statues:  c)ne  on  either  side  of  the 
doorway,  and  one  in  tlie  center  of  the  pedi- 
ment. It  will  be  noticed  that  the  facade  is 
(li\i(ie(l  into  three  unequal  portions.  The 
ends  of  the  two  outer  walls  of  the  main 
l)uildin<>;  arc  faced  with  jiiiasters  whicli  sup- 
])ort  the  cornice  of  the  jjedinient.  Below 
tile  cornice  and  above  the  entablature  is  a 
circular  window.  The  entablature  is  sup- 
ported by  eno-aged  columns,  upon  which 
rests  a  heavily  molded  cornice :  the  whole 
forming  a  j)lcasing  architectural  effect 
about  the  doorway,  the  semi-circular  arch 
of  which  is  especially  fine. 

It  will  be  noticed  by  reference  to  Figure 
1\'  that  on  the  towers  at  Santa  Barbara 
there  is  a  chamfer  at  each  corner.  At  San 
Luis  Rev  this  detail  is  different,  in  that  the 
chamfer  is  replaced  by  an  entiri'  flat  surface. 
The  tower  thus  becomes  an  irregular  octa- 
gon, with  four  greater  and  four  lesser  sides. 
These  smaller  sides  answer  the  same  decora- 
tive purpose  as  the  chamfer  at  Santa  Bar- 
bara. The  same  idea  is  also  worked  out  in 
the  dome,  which  is  not  a  hemisphere,  but 
which  prolongs  the  exaggerated  chamfers 
of  the  stories  below. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  the  original 
design  provided  for  a  second  tower  to  be 
erected  at  San  Luis  Key,  uniform  with  the 
existing  one. 

Santa  Inez,  shown  in  l-igures  ^'  and  \  I. 
presents  pleasing  features.  Here  the  fa\'ade 
is  exceedingly  simple:  the  bell  tower  being 
a  plain  wall  pierced  as  at  San  Gabriel.  The 
same    pyramidal    feature,    used    here   as    an 


ornament  for  the  four  corners,  and  the- 
curved  pediment  please  the  e^'e,  and  satisfy 
the  desire  for  strength  and  grace.  The  rear 
view,  Figure  ^'I,  shows  the  massiveness  of 
the  walls  and  the  extra  reinforcement  of 
tluiu  i)y  means  of  the  buttresses. 

While  simple  .'ind  chaste,  the  two  churches 
of  San  Carlos  Borromeo — one  in  the  ancient 
town  of  Montere}-,  and  the  other  seven  miles 
away  in  Kl  Carmelo  A'allc}' — have  a  peculiar 
interest  and  fascination,  since  they  were  the 
home-churches  of  the  sainth'  Serra  himself. 
At  the  Valley  church,  Figure  VII,  lovingly 
called  Carmelo  by  the  neighboring  people, 
Serra  lived,  worked,  prayed,  died  and  was 
buried.  By  Padre  Casanova  it  was  restored 
some  fifteen  years  ago.  and  the  body  of 
Serra  was  sought,  identified  and  recovered. 
Here  the  egg-shaped  dome,  surmounted  b}' 
an  ornament  holding  up  the  cross,  is  the 
principal  architectural  attraction,  although 
the  starred  window  of  the  facade,  under  the 
semi-circular  cornice,  and  the  ornamental 
doorway  are  also  striking  and  pleasing  fea- 
tures. 

At  San  Carlos  de  j\Ionterey  the  facade 
and  tower  arc  of  entirely  different  character, 
although  superficial  observers  remark  upon 
the  similarity  of  these  features  to  those  of 
the  \'allcy  church.  The  tiled  pyramidal 
covering  of  the  tower  is  especially  pleasing 
as  is  seen  in  Figure  \'III. 

Padre  Mestris.  the  lineal  successor  of 
Padre  Serra  in  the  control  of  the  sj)iritual 
and  temporal  affairs  of  this  Mission,  is  now 
contempating  an  addition  to  the  church  at 
Monterey.  His  plan  is  to  build  a  house  for 
himself  and  his  associates,  and  to  connect  it 
with  the  church  by  means  of  an  arched  and 
tiled  corridor;  the  whole  to  be  in  harmony 
with   the  existing  architecture.      A   distin- 


,'\--^ 


't 


/I 


![■ 


^14.' 


L 


\      ^ 


:ifi.' 


FllAN'CISCAX    MISSION     IIT  1 1 .1  )l  X(.S 


guishcd  firm  of  architects  lias  sul)mitted  a 
plan  sliowing  tlie  new  buildings  on  a  front 
line  with  the  old  Mission.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  the  additional  buildings  will 
be  thrown  back,  in  order  that  the  church 
facade  miiy  not  be  impaired  in  effect.  If 
erected  as  the  architects  have  suggested,  in 
line  with  the  chiu'ch  facade,  the  result  woidd 
be  to  decrease  the  importance  of  the  main 
structure.  As  this  would  be  an  unfortunate 
condition,  Padre  Mestris  is  resolved  to  lose 
space  by  retreating  the  new  buildings,  as  he 
can  thereby  retain  tlic  cliarm  and  dignity  of 
the  old  ^lission. 

I  have  thus,  in  a  hasty,  and  in  my  judg- 
ment— inadequate  manner,  given  to  the 
readers  of  The  Craftsman  a  glance  into  the 
mere  existence  of  these  Mission  structures. 
Later  articles  will,  I  trust,  enlarge  the  liori- 
zon. 


Ill  colK•iu^ion,  let  me  ask  a  few  iiioiiieiits 
in  wliich  to  make  reply  to  those  who  igno- 
rant ly  reproach  tlii'  work  of  those  wise  and 
devoted  priests. 

It  is  often  asked  by  those  who  would 
resent  classification  with  superficial  think- 
ers: "What  good  did  the  Mission  I-^itiiers 
accomplish.^  Their  aim,  jierhajjs,  was  high, 
but  what  actual  work  ditl  they  ])erform? 
Where  are  the  Indians?  How  were  they 
benefited.'"'  And  these  fiucstions  are  as 
often  carelessly  answcretl  as  thoughtlessly 
asked.  It  is  contended  that  the  usolcssness 
of  tiie  work  of  the  Mission  Fathers  is  clearly 
shown  by  the  rajiid  abasement  of  the  Indians 
into  the  frightful  mire  of  sensuality  and 
intem]>erance,  a>  soon  as  restraining  hands 
uere  removed  from  Ihem. 

According  to  the  most  conservative  esti- 
mates, there  must  have  been  many  thousand 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Indians  under  tlie  control  ot'  tliu  jMissions, 
at  the  beginning  of  tliis  century.  To-day, 
how  many  are  there?  I  have  .spent  long 
da_y.s  in  the  different  i\Ii.s,sion  localities,  ardu- 
ously searching  for  Indians,  but  oftentimes 
oidy  to  fail  of  my  purpose.  In  and  about 
San  Francisco,  there  is  not  one  to  be  found. 
At  San  Carlos  Borromeo,  in  both  ]\Iontei-oy 
and  the  C.-irnielo  \'alley,  except  for  a  few 
half-lini(l>.  11(1  one  of  Indian  Mood  can  he 
discovered.  It  is  the  same  at  San  jNIigucl, 
San  Luis  ()l)is])o  and  Santa  Barbara.  At 
Pala.  th.-it  rom.-intic  ch.'qiel.  where  once  the 
visiting  j)riest  from  San  Luis  Rcy  found  a 
congreg.ation  of  sever.d  hundreds  awaiting 
his  ministrations,  the  land  was  recently  pur- 
chased from  wliite  men.  liy  the  United  States 
Indian  Commission,  as  a  new  home  for  the 
evicted  Palatingwa  Indians  of  Warner's 
Ranch.  These  latter  Indians,  in  recent  in- 
terviews with  me,  h;i\e  ])ertineiitly  asked: 
"Where  did  the  white  men  get  this  land,  so 
thev  could  sell  it  to  the  Government  for  us? 
Indians  lived  here  many  centuries  before  a 
white  man  had  ever  seen  tlie  "land  of  the 
sundown  sea.'  When  the  'long  gowns' 
first  c;ime  here,  there  were  many  Indians  at 
Pal.-i.  X(iw  tlie\'  are  .'dl  gone.  Where.'' 
And  how  do  we  kimw  tli.at  before  long  we 
shall  not  be  dri\en  out.  and  be  gone,  as  they 
were  driven  out  and  are  gone?" 

At  S.-ui  liuis  Rey  and  San  Diego,  there 
are  a  i'fw  scattered  f.aniilies.  but  vi'ry  few, 
and  most  ot'  these  havi'  tied  far  back  uitu  the 
desert,  (ir  to  the  high  mount.-iins.  as  f.ar  as 
possible  out  (if  reacli  of  the  civilization  th.it 
demoralizes  and  exteniiin.ates  them. 

A  few  scattered  remnants  are  all  th;it 
rcm.iin. 

Let  US  discover  why. 

Tlie  system  of  the  Mission   Fathers  was 


])atriarchal,  paternal.  Certain  it  is  that 
the  Indi.ans  were  largely  treated  as  if  they 
were  children.  No  one  questions  or  denies 
this  statement.  Few  question  that  the 
Indians  were  happy  imder  this  system,  and 
all  will  concede  that  they  made  wonderful 
progress  in  the  so-called  arts  of  civilization. 
From  crude  savagery  they  were  lifted  by 
the  training  of  the  Fathers  into  usefulness 
and  productiveness.  Thev  retained  their 
health,  vigor  and  virility.  They  were,  by 
necessity  perhaps,  but  still  undeniably, 
chaste,  virtuous,  temperate,  honest  and  rea- 
son.'dilv  truthful.  'J'liey  were  good  fathers 
and  mothers,  obedient  sons  and  daughters, 
amenable  to  authority,  and  respectful  to  the 
counsels  of  old  age. 

^\11  this  and  iiKU'e.  may  unreservedly  be 
said  for  the  Indians  while  they  were  under 
the  control  of  the  Fathers.  That  there  were 
occasionally  individual  cases  of  liarsh  treat- 
ment is  possible.  The  most  loving  and  in- 
dulgent parents  are  now  and  again  ill-tem- 
pered, fretful  or  nervous.  The  Fathers 
Were  men  sv.bject  to  all  the  limitations  of 
other  men.  (rrantiiig  these  limitations  and 
making  due  .illow.ince  for  human  imperfec- 
tion, the  rule  of  the  Fathers  must  still  be 
admired  for  its  wisdom  and  commended  for 
its  immediate  results. 

Now  comes  the  order  of  secularization, 
and  .1  little  later  the  domination  of  the 
Americans.  Those  opposed  to  the  control 
of  the  Fathers  are  to  sec  the  Indians  free. 
Thev  .'ire  to  be  "removed  from  under  the 
irksome  restraint  of  cold-blooded  ])riests  who 
lia\c  held  them  in  bondage  not  far  removed 
from  slavery."  They  are  to  have  unre- 
strained liberty,  the  broadest  and  fullest  in- 
tercourse with  the  great  American  people. 


334. 


FH. WllSCAN     MISSION     HT  1  1 .1  )1  \(.S 


tliu    wliite,    (.'aucasiiui    Amoricui.    not    tlie 
(lark-skinned  ^lexican. 

The  antliority  of  tlio  priistliood  hiino- 
al)olislK'cl,  tliis  beneHcent  intercourse  liej^ins. 
Now  see  tlie  rapid  elevation  in  morals, 
lionor,  chastity,  integrity  and  all  the  vir- 
tues !  Gaze  with  amazement  and  delight 
upon  tlie  glorious  blessings  conferred  ujion 
the  weak  by  the  strong  race!  Thank  (iod. 
with  u))-lifted  eyes  and  hand,  for  all  the 
mental  and  spiritual  graces  that  begin  to 
pour  into  the  minds  and  souls  of  those  be- 
nighted heathen,  when  they  are  removed 
from  the  benumbing  influences  of  supersti- 
tious and  ignorant  Catholicism.  Yes,  in- 
deed, let  us  sing  paeans  of  joyous  praises 
for  the  good  that  tin-  aborigines  now  hold  in 
free  and  absolute  mastery. 

Ah!  hypocrites  and  vile!  How  1  could 
wish  for  the  power  of  Shaksj)ere  to  sliow  vou 
in  your  true  light.  How  wduld  I  |Kiiir  u])oii 
you  such  curses  as  should  make  tame  and 
insipid  those  which  Lady  Amie,  Queen  Mar- 
garet and  the  Duchess  of  York  pronounced 
upon  Richard  of  Gloster.  Kicliard  was  not 
so  vile  a  murderer,  so  ruthless  a  destroyer, 
so  black-lieai'ted  a  villain,  so  contenijitible  a 
plotter,  so  mean  a  layer  of  snares  as  the 
white  race  has  been  wlu'rebv  to  traj),  entan- 
gle and  exterminate  the  dusky  race  whose 
lands  they  coveted  and  determined  to  pos- 
sess. 

Had  they  been  left  in  the  hands  of  the 
Mission  Fathers,  the  Indians  woulfl  slowly 
but  surely  have  progressed  to  racial  man- 
hood. Given  over  to  our  own  tender  mer- 
cies, they  have  been  liurried  down  an  incline 
smeared  by  white  men  with  every  known 
form  of  slippery  evil,  in  onlci-  that  tlnir 
destruction  might  be  the  more  i-a])i(I  and 
complete.      T'ntil  we  are  able,  nationally,  to 


cleanse  our  own  skirts  from  the  blood  of 
these  tru>tful.  weak,  heljjless  aborigines,  let 
us  not  insult  the  iiieiiiory  of  the  Mission 
I'athers  i)y  asking,  parrot-like:  "For  what 
end.'" 


IN  eonnrction  with  Mr. 
James's  article  upon  tlie 
Spanish  ^lissions  of  C'ali- 
toi'nia.  it  seems  fitting  to  print 
tile  \erses  of  Hret  Harte,  which, 
.it  one  time  often  heard  upon  the 
tongue^  of  the  peo])le,  are  now 
seairely  ever  recalled.  \Vritten 
liy  a  true  child  of  Nature,  with 
small  care  for  literary  art  or 
inicislon.  their  harmonious  qual- 
ity .-itl  r.iclcd  the  attention  of  the 
great  French  composer.  Charles 
Gounod,  who  set  them  to  music. 

TUK 
MISSKtS:    IIEI.I.S   OK   JIONTKUKY 

()   l)clls   that   rang,   O  bells   that   sang 
\l)<)vc    the    martyr's    wilderness. 

Till   from  that  reddened  const-line  sprantr 
The  Gosjiel  seed   to  cheer  and  hless. 

What  are  your  garnered  sheaves  to-day? 

()   Mission   bells!     Klci.son   bells! 

O  .Mission   bells  of  Monterey! 

()  lulls  that   die,  so   far,  so  nigh. 
Come  back  once  more  across  the  sea; 
Not    with   the  zealot's   furious   cry, 
XcpI   with   the  creed's  austerity; 
I'omc  with   His  love  alone  to  stay, 
<)   Mi-.sion   bcll>I     |-;ieison   bells! 
()  Mi--i<iii  liclls  (if  .Monlcrev  ! 


Xi3 


Plate  VI.      Group   in      iIm  r  j;ilt    .irHl  cii.uiul :   (  Mrin.Lii ;   rnd  <<(  sixttiiitli   cciitury 


SlLNKHSMlTirs    ART 


THE  SILVERSMITH'S  ART:  I'm". 
SIXTEENTH.  SEVENTEENIll  AM) 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURIES.     JEAN 

scHori  i;k.     translated  from 

I  HE  IRENCII  RY  IRENE  SARGENT 


w 


E  now  enter,  with  tlie  Renas- 
cence, into  modern  times.  No 
revolution    was    ever    ffraver. 


miiul.  Tlie  ^Middle  .Vyes  liad  followed  an 
excellent  way  of"  life,  in  seekin<>-  to  realize  an 
ideal  of  hcautv  hi'lonj^-iiifr  and  pceuliar  to 
it.  Tlure  are  no  anaclironism.s  in  the  works 
of  the  i\Iiddle  A^es.  The  excjiiisitc  ^■irnfins 
carved  on  the  portals  of  the  cathedrals  of 
Paris,  C'hartres  and  Reims  have  typically 
Erench  faces;  in  them  we  find,  refined  and 
beautified  hy  art.  the  characteristics  of  a 
race.      It   is  plain  that  the  models  of  these 


deeper,  more  radical  than  tiie  fi^-ures  were  choMii   from  amony   tiie  wry 

one  experienced  hy  civilization  in  the  six-  people   who   came   to   prav   in   the   church, 

teenth    century.      Eurthernun-e.    no    revolu-  Eurthermore.  the  subjects  then   chosen   hy 

tion  was  ever  more  necessary  for  the  libera-  art    were    episodes    of    a    reli^-ious    history 

tion  of  the  human  mind.      In  its  strugfrle  familiar  to  all,  and  whose  events  found  an 

against   the   authority,   the   ignorance,   the  echo  in  the  heart  of  every  person.      One  of 

spiritual  tyranny  of  the  Church,  the  six-  the  most  cherished  of  these  subjects  was  the 

teenth  century  supported  itself  upon  antiq-  Life  and  Passion  of  our  l.oicl;  another,  the 

uity.      The  ancients  seemed  to  have  receive<l  life  of  the  Mrgin.for  wiiom  the  ;Mid<lle  Ages 


from  Nature  that  peculiar  human   wisdom 
which  the  men  of  the  then  newly-awakened 
Europe     wished     to     acquire. 
The   universal    desire   was    to 
restore,  to  revive  antiquity. 

The  Renascence,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  Reformation,  on  the 
other,  created  the  modern 
world.  To  these  two  move- 
ments we  owe  the  final  con- 
quest of  intellectual  freedom 
and  the  unlimited  progress  of 
science ;  to  the  Reformation 
which  reacted  upon  the  Cath- 
olic world,  we  owe  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  higher  morality. 

In  the  domain  of  art,  above 
all.  in  the  domain  of  the  deco- 
rative arts,  we  can  not,  in  the 
least,  congratulate  ourselves 
upon  the  revolution  which 
then  occurred  in  the  world  of 


showed    fervent    devotion:    tiien    again,    ac- 
cording to  the  localitv.  the  edifyinff  adven- 


>>r  iIk'  Holy  .S,. pill,  III'.'.  |,n'>.MiU'<l   l>: 
i>f  Kniiifp  to  the  riitluMlrul  of  KciniH 


337 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


turos  of  some  saint,  a  uativc  of  the  region  in 
wlucli  lie  «  as  so  profoundly  venerated.  Such 
were  tlie  suljjeets  eagerly  seized  upon  hy 
art.  'J'lu'V  net'ded  no  exj)lanation  :  an  illit- 
erate woman,  a  child,  the  ignorant  and  the 
lowlv  understood  thrni  as  easily  as  did  a  lord 
or  a  hishoj).  Thence  resulted  Hie  universal 
popularity  of  the  art  of  tin-   Middle  Ages; 


,„_— ^ -----Mr-, 


,1    I'r-  ii];i     :;ill   .it    11-  i' 
(;;Uli.-.iriil  i.f  Ki-iTli> 


thence,  also,  its  vitality,  its  force.  It  re- 
mained in  constant  and  direct  communica- 
tion with  the  people.  The  artist  (since  it  is 
necessary  to  use  this  term  )  knew  that  he  was 
laiioring  for  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
.111(1,  according  to  the  expression  of  La 
Uruyere.  he  was  himself  an  integral  part  of 

the   |ieo])le. 

With  the  Renascence  every- 
thing changed.  Two  distinct 
classes  segregated  and  consol- 
idated. In  one  of  these  were 
the  rich  and  cultivated;  in  the 
other,  the  common  ])eo])le.  As 
was  natural,  the  artists  no 
longer  worked  except  for  the 
very  restricted  rich  class :  a 
class  which  more  than  any 
other  lies  at  the  mercy  of 
fashion  and  caprice;  which  is 
led  1)V  certain  narrow  ideas; 
uhich,  at  all  costs,  demands  to 
i)e  amused;  which  believes  it- 
self of  finer  essence  and  re- 
fuses to  share  its  joys  and 
pleasures  with  the  people. 
Popular  art  was  henceforth 
extinct.  Charming,  ingen- 
uous, serious,  exquisite,  it 
passed  away.  Then,  aristo- 
cratic art  came  to  its  birth. 
^\nd  soon,  under  Louis  XI^'., 
it  displayed  red  heels  and  a 
wig. 

The  line  of  separation 
grew  wider  and  wider.  In- 
vead  of  establishing  an  ideal- 
ized race-type  like  that  which 
was  given  to  us  bv  the  ]\Iiddle 
Ages,  art,  boginnino;  witli  tlic- 
Ronascence,  attempted  to  ap- 


I  r  aiire  ti»  the 


SILVEKS.MITHS    AllT 


jiroacli  the  ideal  of  beauty  conceived  l)_v 
antiquity.  No  attempt  could  be  more  use- 
less, none  more  perilous.  What  then  was 
this  dead  beauty  which  the  Renascence 
raised  from  the  tombs.''  The  French,  the 
Italians,  the  Germans  of  the  sixteenth  cent- 
ury, did  they  not  have  a  type,  an  ideal  of 
beauty  })eculiar  to  tlicm.'*  Did  not  these 
strong,  young  races  offer  adequate  models.^ 
t'ould  the  world  return  to  the  times  when 
the  youths  thronged  the  open-air  gynnia- 
siums.  and  went  clothed  in  robes  with  supjile 
folds.-  It  would  be  as  reasonable  to  ask 
that  the  ilelicateiy  veiled  atmosphere  of 
Paris,  or  the  murky  sky  of  London  should 
show  us  the  dazzling  azure  of  Attica. 

As  for  the  sul)ject,  it  became  antique,  like 
the  plastic  type  itself.  Instead  of  the 
sacred  stories  of  the  Biljle,  we  have  now  talcs 
from  ancient  mythology.  Instead  of  scenes 
from  the  Passion  of  Our  Lord  wc  have  the 
metamorphoses  of  Jupiter,  king  of  gods  and 
men.  Homer,  Virgil,  Ovid  especially,  these 
are  the  authors  constanth'  consulted  as 
sources  of  themes  for  illustrations.  In  pres- 
ence of  plastic  works,  the  student  must  now 
read  commentaries.  Otherwise  he  will  bo  at 
a  loss  to  understand  them.  What  idea  can  a 
peasant  woman  gather  from  the  sight  of  a 
marble  bull  represented  as  carrying  away  a 
nude  maiden?  Contrary  to  former  condi- 
tions, tlie  learned  alone  are  at  ease  in  pres- 
ence of  a  work  of  art.  For  them  alone  it  is 
clear  and  comprehensible.  This  is  deplor- 
able. The  birth  of  aristocratic  art,  the 
death  of  the  art  of  the  people — such  con- 
stitutes our  debt  to  the  Renascence. 

The  life  of  the  decorative  arts  was  grave- 
ly affected  i)y  the  movement.  One  has  only 
to  examine  the  plates  which  illustrate  our 
present  article,  in  order  to  feel  the  entrance 


into  a  new  world.  ^\•t  in  the  art  of  liie 
silversmith  tlu're  is  scarcely  .•mvthing  new 
except  works  destined  for  the  Church  and 
therefore  religious,  at  least  in  subject. 
^^'hat  should  we  find,  therefore,  if  wi'  were 
treating  here  >culpturc  or  ])aintingr' 


f  to 


Pint.-    III. 


'Ship"  of  Siiiiit  Nicliolus  of  the  Port: 
sixtiTiith  I'fiitiiry 


There  are,  it  is  needless  to  say,  shades  of 
differences  to  be  observed.  In  the  sixteenth 
century.  a>  uc  >liall  find  in  our  >ludv  of  the 
woi-k>,  the  influences  of  the  Middle  .Vges  are 
still  strong.  In  art,  as  in  Nature,  advance 
is  not  made  by  sudiien  leaps.      In  the  "Sep- 

333 


THE   C  KAFTSIMAN 


iilclires,"  for  cxaiu])le,  iii  that  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Reims,  or  the  little  "Ships"  of  the 


i 


■xists  in  the  Reliquary  of  the  Holy  Sepul- 
■hre.  presented  by  Henry  Second  to  the 
Cathedral  of  Reims  (Plate  I.). 
The  recumbent  soldiers  sleep- 
ing near  the  tomb  of  the  Sav- 
iour, are  robust  peasants,  ren- 
dered with  commendable  sin- 
cerity and  truth.  The  Christ 
Himself  is  treated  with  an 
appealing  realism,  and  shows 
in  His  emaciation  the  body 
which  suffered  for  the  salva- 
tion of  men.  The  decorative 
element  is  not  neglected.  We 
find  again  the  great  uncut 
stones  embedded  in  silver,  of 
which  we  know  the  origin. 
The  entire  work  has  retained  a 
strong  savor  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  New  ideas  are  absent. 
The  vessel  of  Saint  Ursula, 
which  was  given  by  Henry 
treasuries  of  the  churches,  there  is  still  a  re-  Third  to  the  same  cathedral,  is  also  a  charm- 
ligious,  popidar.  ingenuous  inspii-ation  that  ing  piece.  o})ening  for  us  the  long  series  of 
is  wholly  lacking  in  the  small  mythological  "Shijjs,"  of  which  we  find  so  many  examples 
groups  of  the  end  of  the  century,  which  we  in  the  precious  metals,  fi'om  the  sixteenth 
also  illustrate.      In  the  seventeenth  century,      century  onward.      It  is  a  work  in  which  the 


the  anti(|ue  triumphed.  In  the  eighteenth, 
it  still  reigned,  but  there  arose  then  a  move- 
ment as  of  the  sap  in  springtime,  a  fanciful- 
ness,  which,  in  sj)itc  of  all  resistance,  made 
itself  evident,  anil  rococo  came  into  beinff. 


sihersmith  was  aided  by  the  enamelcr.  The 
figures  of  Saint  Ursula  and  the  virgins,  her 
companions,  have  enameling  upon  their 
draperies  and  their  faces.  There  is  beside 
a    fresh,   attractive   quality   pervading   the 


Finally,  manual  skill  and  craftsmanship  re-  piece.      These  works  were  comprehensible  to 

suiting  from  the  organization  of  labor  and  all.  and  gave  pleasure  to  the  humble,  as  well 

the  rules  of  tlie  guilds,  remained  incompar-  as  to  the  rich.      They  followed  the  mediaeval 

able  and  perfect.  tradition. 

Having   thus   jirejjared   and    cleared    our  This  tradition  is  lost,  or  at  least  greatly 

path.  We  can  now  advance  more  rajiidly  in  obscured  in  the  Ship  of  St.  Nicholas  of  the 

the  cxann'nation  of  works.  Port  (Plate  HI.),  which  dates  from  the  end 

An  admirable  exam])le  of  the  silversmith's  of  the  same  century.      There  are.  certainly, 

art,  as  regards  both  work  and  inspiration,  liberty  and  grace  in  this  little  "Ship."      The 

3+0 


SlI.XKKSMIIirs    ART 


figures  are  quaintly  grouped,  ami  are  repre- 
sentative of  their  period.  IJut  tiie  concep- 
tion of  the  whole  is  less  happy  ;  the  design 
of  this  shell,  mounted,  like  a  miniature  car- 
riage, upon  four  wlieels,  is  in  doubtful  taste. 
It  is  a  somewhat  childish  fancy.     The  dcco- 


lulnutcd  Komau  xilditr.  and,  to  crown  the 
wiioie.   a    Hercules    in    re})()se.      The   whole 


is  rich  to  the  point  of  sumptnousness.  We 
sec  at  the  first  glance  that  this  is  art  for  the 
yery  rich  and  the  cultured;  since  it  is  mani- 
fest that  Ww  ])e()ple.  the  simple  and  unlet- 

ration  assumes  an  antique  character.    There      tered    folk,    will   understand    nothing    here. 

is,  in  the  center,  the  nude  torso  of  a  woman      They  will  admire  confidently,  because  they 

which  is  not  of  French  inspir.it  ion.  and  has      haye  l)iin  told  that  it  was  beautiful ;  because 

no  reason  for  existence. 

But  we  must  now  cxaminr 

a  piece  from  which  all  trace> 

of  the  Jliddle  Ages  are  absent : 

a  work  strongly  indicative  of 

the   new   era   inaugurated   b\ 

the    Renascence    in    both    tin 

tine   and    the    decorative    arts. 

Therefore,  we  must  pass  intd 

Itah".      In  that   country,   for 

many  reasons,  the  worshij)  of 

antiquity  was  instituted.      Wi 

find,  for  example,  the  Fames. 

Cixsket  (Plate  IV.),  in  gilded 
silver,  preserved  in  the  Na- 
tional Museum  of  Naples,  and 
attributed  falsely  to  that  fiery 
spirit,  Benvenuto  Cellini,  hut 
which  is  the  authentic  work  of 
Johannes  de  Bernardi. 

We  aie  here  immersed  in 
the  antique.  The  structural 
portion  is  composed  from  ill- 
chosen  cla.ssical  loans.  The 
decoration  is  also  borrowed 
from  antique  architecture. 
We  find  festoons  of  roses, 
Ionic  and  Composite  capitals, 
antique  masks,  Caryatides. 
si)hinses,  sleeping  genii,  Latin 
inscriptions,  antique  allegor- 
ical   figures,    a    half-nude    and  l'l»f   V.    Thi- (•.•nluur  .\.»»ii»  nmlDijuiiira.  aiiriliiil..!  t.,  .I.-hh  ..f 


341 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


in  tlie  miild  of  the  untique. 
()iKT  this  ca>kct  i>  seen  and 
stuilied,  there  is  scarcely  need 
t'(ir  Us  to  explain  the  other 
works  of  the  sixteenth  centurv 
«hieli  we  illustrate  hero.  The 
uniforniity  of  the  neo-classic 
style  is  such  that,  being  in 
presence  of  an  oh  ject  of  art  of 
this  time,  one  scarcely  knows 
whether  one  is  in  France  or  in 
Italy. 

Nevertheless.  we  ])rescnt 
t\V()  sni.all  and  (|uite  tv])ical 
i;roups.  ( )ne.  attributed  to 
John  of  Holoo-na  (Plate  V.). 
exists  in  the  ]\Ii.'seuin  of  the 
I,ou\  re.  Its  subject  is  the 
ciiitaur  Xessus  carrying  away 
])c'ianii-a.  All  former  collegi- 
ans know,  or  should  know,  this 


they  .see  that  it  must  have  been 
costly ;  but  tlie  new  art  sings  a 
strange  melody  of  which  the_\ 
cannot  follow  the  words.  This 
is  an  excellent  type  of  the 
work  of  the  Renascence  period. 
In  the  Sepulchre  presented  by 
Henry  Second  to  the  'i'reasury 
of  the  Cathedral  of  Reims,  the 
sleeping  soldiers  are  gooil 
cavalrymen  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  stiffened  in  their 
cuirasses,  and  with  faces 
copied  from  those  of  the 
throng  daily  seen  by  the  artist. 
But  in  the  Farnesc  casket  we 
have  a  Roman  soldier,  almost 
nude,  wlio  mounts  guard  as  if 
he  were  about  to  defend  for 
centuries  the  new  art  conceived 
342- 


ri.itfVlll.     I'hitf  ill  sjlvi-r-Kilt;  Fri-m-li;  >i.\ti'i-iitli 


Sll.\  KKSMIIirS    Ai{r 


fanciful  loficml.  From  tlic  point  of  view  \\iv  otluT  is  a  bas-ri'liof  carefully  uiulcrcut. 
of  sculpture,  it  is  i-omarkably  skilful.  It  in  wliicli  tlie  silvorsuiitirs  art  Ijccomus  almost 
evidences  great  learning  and  most  accurate  a  rival  of  jjainllng.  There  are  also  several 
knowledge  of  tlie  nude  on  tlie  part  of  the 
sculptor,  although  it  is  plain  that  he  studied 
especially  the  nude  of  the  classic  decadence. 
But  in  spite  of  this,  the  work  is  very  strong. 
It  is  the  tyi)e  and  model  for  the  show-piece 
of  the  financier's  palace. 

A  companion-piece  for  the  group  of  Nes- 
sus  and  Dejanira  is  found  in  an  Ama/ou 
mounting  a  prancing  liorse  (Plate  \I.).  It 
dates  from  the  end  of  the  same  century,  and 
is  preserved  in  tlu'  Museum  of  the  Louvre. 
This  is  plainly  a  (lerman  work.  The  Renas- 
cence indeed  laid  hold  of  Germany,  al- 
though that  country  struggled  beneath  its 
grasp.  The  Amazon  is  antique  in  concep- 
tion, as  is  also  the  horse  with  small  head  and 
strong  neck ;  the  human  figure  is  half  nude, 
also  an  antique  characteristic;  but,  as  in  all 
German  works,  there  is  a  Teutonic  flavor 
constantly  ])erceptible  and  very  agreeable. 
In  Germany,  that  which  is  natural  reas- 
sumed  its  rights.  In  the  eyes  of  the  nun 
of  the  times  this  characteristic  was  undoubt- 
edly a  defect.  In  our  sight,  it  is  the  highest 
quality.  The  Amazon  shows  in  her  face  a 
certain  Teutonic  ingenuousness.  Her  hand 
is  too  strong,  and  her  extended,  flattened 
toes  are  far  outside  the  classic  canon.  She 
is  less  perfect  than  the  Dejanira  attributed 
to  John  of  Bologna,  but  her  very  defects 
give  her  stronger  vitality. 

We  dismiss  quickly  the  silver  jilales:  the 
one  of  Italian  (Plate  \II.),  the  other  of 
French  workmanship  (Plate  VIII.).  Tliey 
are  both  very  learned,  very  skilful  has-  similar  basins  and  buckleis  upon  which  bat- 
reliefs,  and  the  Italian  piece  is  a  work  of  ties  and  victories  of  the  period  are  minutely 
pure  sculpture — such  being  the  direction  represented.  These  objects  have  no  great 
taken  hv  the  silversmith's  art  of  the  time; —      interest,  and  I  do  not  believe  that  the  silver- 


313 


THE    tllAFTSMAN 


Pliitc  X.     Spiiuiis  ini'l  I'l'rks  troiii  ruiM-ii,  ( ■uiirlaiHl;  sixTi-t'iith  cfntui'> 

smitli's   art    of   tlie    jireseiit    will    uiulcTtakc 
similar  works. 

An  ewer  in  silver-<rilt.  cnibellislicd  witli 
enamels,  «liicli  was  exociitod  at  Antwerp 
and  is  now  ])reserved  in  the  iMuseum  of  the 


silversmiths  of  our  time  might, 
perhaps,  find  it  well  to  adopt 
certain  models  of  spoons  and 
forks  of  the  Renascence  period 
and  the  Middle  Ages,  instead 
of  constantly  copying  the  ser- 
\iccs  in  the  Louis  XV.  and 
Louis  XVI.  styles. 

Let  us  now  enter  into  the 
seventeenth  century,  during 
which  the  art  of  the  silver- 
smith was  held  in  high  honor: 
although  there  only  remains  a 
somewhat  restricted  number  of 
the  works  of  this  period :  a 
fact  for  which  we  shall  pres- 
ently accoinit. 

Tiie  religious  pieces  of  this 
jjeriod    are    without    interest. 
They  were  still  produced,  but 
the  Ilenascence  began  to  bear 
its  fruits.      The  religious  art 
was  essentially  popular.   Aris- 
tocratic  art    was    restored  by 
till-   revival   of   leai-ning,   and 
being    restored,    it   made   war 
upon    popular    art    from    the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century.      As  a 
consequence,  there  was  no  longer  any  relig- 
ious art.      Without  doubt,  the  chapters  of 
the  churches  still  ordered  the  execution  of 
crosses  and  reliquaries.      But,  taste  became 


Louvre  (Plate  IX. ),  shows  a  more  vigorous  so  degenerate  that  the  exquisite  works  of  the 

style,  although  a  somewliat  decadent  taste.  ^liddle  Ages  were  despised  to  the  degree  that 

Its  decoration   is  fatiixuino;  because  it  has  often  an  old  cross  or  a  shrine  was  melted, 

become  commonplace  through  familiarity.  in  order  to  remodel  it  into  a  similar  object 

]5<'fore    passing    on    to    the    seventeenth  rejiresentative  of  tlie   taste  of  the  period, 

centurw     let    us    examine    some    forks    ;uid  But.  indeed,  there  is  no   longer  life  in  the 

spoons    preserved    at    Popen    in    C'ourland  religious  pieces.      The  silversmiths  were  too 

(Plate  X.).      They  date  from  1567.      The  much  occupied  in  satisfying  the  tastes  of 
344 


SII-\  KKSMITHS    ART 


ricli  ami  idle  clients  at  the  courts,  wlio  liviil 
I'or  display  and  vied  with  one  another  in 
luxury  and  spKiulor. 

We  illustrate,  in  order  to  show  the  style 
of  the  religious  pieces  of  the  period,  a  large 
shrine  of  St.  Antony  (Plate  XI.), a  ciboriuni 
in  gilded  silver  from  the  same  church,  and  a 
fine  chalice  (Plate  XII.), more  animated  and 
interesting,  from  the  cathedral  of  Tours. 
These  are  the  only  illustrations  tiiat  we  sliall 
give  of  works  of  the  two  i-emaining  centu- 
ries. As  may  be  seen,  they  arc  heavy,  stolid, 
learned  and  tiresome  in  style.  Rut,  at  the 
same  time,  they  are  altogetiur  superior  in 
sense  of  proportion,  in  boldness  of  relief,  in 
composition,  to  similar  pieces  coming  from 
the  workshops  of  our  own  times. 

Contrary  to  the  religious  braiu-ji  of  tlic 


art,  the  secular  branch  advanced  consider- 
ably, and  a  certain  number  of  interesting- 
pieces  have  been  j)reserved :  for  exan)[)!e, 
a  casket  in  chiseled  and  hamnured  gold,  onCL- 
bolonging  to  Anne  of  Austria,  which  is  now 
in  the  ^luseum  of  the  Louvre  (Plate  XIll. ). 
It  is  a  work  of  extreme  richness,  with  thick, 
luxuriant  decoration,  and  it  shows  delicate- 
skill  in  workmansiii]).  It  has,  nevertheless, 
a  certain  sonuliiing  too  complicated,  too 
florid,  which  marks  it  as  an  example  of  the 
tasti'  of  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

At  tile  court  of  Louis  XI\.,  tiie  "Sun- 
Iving,"  luxury  developed  to  an  incredil)l(- 
extent,  especially  during  the  first  thirty 
years  of  the  reign.  NO  exjjcnse  was  sparetL 
in  order  tiiat  Versailles  might  be  constructed. 


I'ljili-  \l       Kclinijiiry  111  flHdiy  anil   Hil\.-r:  i'lmrcli  ^il   Saini   A  nt.-iii'-.   I-'  n  .'1  rum- 


34i 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Hir  tniys;  standards  of  silver  hearing  great 
siher  eliaiideliers;  silver  candelabra  stand- 
ing \i|ii>n  gilded  stands;  silver  hearths  two 
feet  in  height  hy  three  and  one-half  in 
ilianieti'r. 

"In  the  thronc-rooni.  the  table,  the  stands, 
the  ehinniev-pieee  (U-nanients.  and  the  great 
ehandeher  ari'  of  silver.  A  silver  throne 
eight  feet  high  is  in  the  ce'uter.  At  cither 
side  <if  the  throne,  u]>on  the  dais,  two  silver 
stools  hearing  s(;uares  (U-  rugs  of  velvet. 
Four  eh.'indeliers.  set  iipon  silver  stands  six 
feet  in  height,  .adorn  the  four  eorncrs  of  the 
hall. 

"In  the  hed-elianiber,  a  silver  balustrade 
two  and  a  half  feet  liigh,  ui)on  which  are  set 


I'hilr  Xll.i.    (  il., .111111,  >ii  mlilrd  siIvct;  Churcli  ui 
S.'unt  AiiliiiiH'.  IsL-ri'.  France 


Sibcr-work  received  its  sli.are  of  eneour.age- 
nient,  .and  it  i-.  interesting  to  note  the  nuni- 
Ixr  of  objects  \\hich  wrVr  then  ni.ule  from 
silvei-.  I  (piote  from  a  journ.d  of  the 
period.  "!.'■  Mc  rcurc  (i.ilant."  fcu'  th(;  years 
16Hl-!^->.  which  drs<-ril)es  in  det.ail  the  fur- 
nishings of  till'  p.d.icc  of  \  ersaiUr^. 

In  the  gallrry  ; 

"Travs  of  silver  bearing  c,andel;ilir;i  ; 
orailge-tree  iioM's  in  silver,  set  upon  bases  of 
the  same  mi-t.d  :  silvii-  v.ases  acconi]).anying 


^^^:i^^^>^' 


l'l:ilr  XIIA.     Cli.'Uic-e  from  tlu'  Catlifdial  of  Tours 


;34e 


SIL\  KHS.MITirs    AWT 


Plate  XIII.     Caskel  in  chisulcil  i^oltl.  oin-e  Ix-Ioiif^in^  to  Amic  nf  Aii^tj-iu 


eifjht  diandcliiTs  of  tlie  same,  e;u-li  two  feet 

liifi'li.      In  till'  corners,  silver  pedestals  bear- 

in<r  braziers  five  feet  liigh ;  ami  basins,  tliree 

feet  in  diameter,  bearing  vases 

in  ])roportion.      Tlie  firc-doo-s 

measure  four  feet :  the  cliande- 

lier  lias  eighteen  candles ;  the 

mirror-frames  are  nine  feet  in 

luiglit,    and    the    whole    is    of 

silver. 

■"In  the  Hall  of  Diana  and 
in  the  Hall  of  \'emis,  as  well 
as  in  the  room  of  the  buffets, 
there  is  a  great  display  of 
stands,  chandeliers,  candel- 
abra, trays,  vases,  cassolettes 
and  orange-tree  boxes  of  sil- 
ver. There  is  no  silver  piece 
without  decoration  in  figure- 
work.      There  are  chandeliers 


which  represent  the  twiKc  months  of  the 
year  :  otliers,  the  Seasons,  aiul  still  others,  to 
tlu'  iuiiiil)er  of  more  than  twelve,  the  T^abors 


n»i.-  XI \. 


:U7 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


of  Herciilo.  It  i>  tlie  same  with  tlic  ru- 
maiiidcr  of  tlR'  silver.  All  thu.sf  pieces  were 
fxecuted  at  the  (iobelins,  after  the  designs 
of  Monsit'ur  le  Bnin." 

Of  these  treasures  of  the  silversmith's  art 
none  remain.  The  defeats  of  the  last  years 
of  the  reign,  the  poverty  ])revalent-  through- 
out the  kingdom  decided  the  King  to  order 
the  melting  of  all  the  silver  plate  helonging 


4S.#^^ 


Plat.    XV.     TiiiikalM-   :iim1    Hariap  :   Ci-rman;    M'Vi-liti- 

to  him.  Even  jirivate  individuals  were 
counseled  to  send  their  silverware  to  the 
mint.  Thus,  an  enormous  and  systematic 
destruction  progressed  during  the  last  twen- 
ty years  of  the  King's  life.  It  was  an 
absurd  act  of  \-.and.ili>m  ;  for  the  objects  sent 
in  this  way  to  the  melting  pot  had  great 
artistic  v.alui',  by  reason  of  both  style  and 
workm.aiiship.  So  were  brought  to  destruc- 
tion siUrr  piece-,  whose  artistic  v.-ilue  mount- 

348 


ed  ])erhap.s  to  ten  millions  of  francs,  while 
their  intrinsic  worth  in  weight  of  silver  was 
less  than  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  The 
same  destructive  measures  were  renewed  un- 
der Louis  X\'. 

W'v   have,   therefore,    nothing   remaining 
from   the  treasures   of   ^'ers.ailles.      But   we 
ha\e  emunerated  these  ])ieces,  in  order  that 
the   re.uler   may   gain   an    idea   of  the   wide 
diversity   of   objects,   even   of 
those  of  furnituiv.  which  were 
included    among   the    produc- 
tions of  the  silversmith. 

From  the  entire  secular 
work  of  the  seventeenth  cent- 
ury we  illustrate  only  a  gold 
coffee-pot  with  its  chafing-dish 
rlate  XI\.  );  a  charming 
])iece,  contrasting  quite 
strongly  with  the  German 
works  of  the  same  period, 
which  are  worthy  of  being 
shown  here.  These  latter  are 
preserved  at  Riga,  and  are: 
the  one  of  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth,  the  other  of  the 
beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century  (Plate  XV. )  ;  both  of 
them  being  rich  and  orn.ite. 
The  cup  occujning  the  mid- 
■utli  .Tiitury  tile   space  shows,   on   the   con- 

trary, (ierman  rococo  influence,  which  we 
shall  find  .also  in  similar  work  produced  in 
France. 

There  ;ire  three  phases  to  be  observed  in 
the  French  decorative  art  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  lender  the  Regent,  there  is  still 
a  survival  of  the  former  style  ;  something  of 
the  grandeur  and  dignity  of  the  art  under 
Louis  XIV. 


SIL\  KI{ SMITH  S    ART 


Tlu'ii  follows  a  complete  revolution,  heiid-      essential  rules  of  construction.      It  is  neces- 
ed  bv  decorative  artists  like  Oppenard  and      sary  that  solids  and  voids  follow  one  another 

in  a  certain  iiannony  :  tjiat  the  masses  he  well 
distributed;  that  decoration  he  in  its  place. 
Fancifulne.ss,  with  OpiH'iiard  and  Meis- 
.sonnier,  took  the  place  of  all  rules,  and  this 
revolution  attained  a  not  iiisi<rnificant  suc- 
cess.     Their     innovations     were     <fraceful, 


riiitc-  XVI.  «.    Candli-.stick:  periuii  nf  tlif  KeKcncy 

ileissonnier.  Both  of  these  men  were  arch- 
itects, and  yet  they  introduced  into  the  deco- 
rative arts  a  contempt  for  architecture. 
They  did  not  construct.  Lines  no  longer 
followed  necessity  and  jrood  sense,  but  sim- 
ply the  fancy  of  tlie  desiffner.  We  have 
said  that  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  art 
of  the  silversmith  approached  architecture, 
and  that  this  tendency  was  erroneous.  Hut 
the  way  in  which  it  later  .sejiarated  itself 
from  the  building-art  was  a  remedy  worse 
than  the  evil  itself.  In  the  execution  of  iirighl,  diverting,  and  filled  tlie  place  of  all 
every  object,  there  are  to  be  observed  certain      that  was  lost.      .\nd  yet  there  were  criticisms 

:<t9 


rim.-  .\\ 


llisli.k:  piTiiid  ..f  l.iiTiis  .\V1 


THE    CKAFTSMAN 


expri-sscd 
uation  :  of 


in  tlie  midst  of  the  general  infat- 
these  I  shall  (juote  one  as  ajjplica- 


stvle  known  under  the  name  of  Louis  XVI. 
This  style  marks  a  return  to  the  antique, 
hut  aNo  to  good  sense.  There  are  no  longer 
contorted  and  luireasonahle  hnes ;  there  is  a 
more  restrained,  more  refined  and  purer 
taste.  .V  certain  gi-a\  ity,  elegant  and 
foi-eef'ul,  eharai-teri/.es  the  last  stage  of 
development  of  decorative  art  in  France. 
The  illustrations  which  we  offer  render  this 
(jualitv   aj)parent. 

We  reproduce,  th.i'refore  (Plate  XVI.), 
two  candelabra  :  the  one  of  tlie  beginning  of 
tlie  centurv.  bifore  tlie  rococo  period;  tlie 


l)le  in  our  ouii  tmics.  It  occui's  in  the 
counsels  of  an  artist  jii'lilishnl  ni  "Lr  Aler- 
cure  (ialant  for  17.")4>."  in  (U'der  to  create 
res])ect  for  certain  rules  of  decoration. 

■■Silvci'siiiiths  .-ire  re(|uested.  \vlien  upon 
the  co\'er  of  an  oil-cruet  or  other  piece,  thev 
execute  an  artichoke  or  a  celerv-stalk  of 
actual  size,  not  to  place  near  it  a  hare  the 
size  of  tlie  linger,  a  lark  of  natural  size,  and 
a  plu  asaiit.  one-foiirtli  or  one-tifth  of  its 
true  proportiims  ;  or  children  of  the  same 
height  as  a  \ine-leaf  :  or  again  figures  sup- 
posed lo  lie  of  iiatui'al  size  upon  a  decorative 
leaf  which  could  barely  siip])ort.  without 
bending,  the  smrdlest  bird  :  or  trees  of  whicli 
the  trunk  is  not  so  large  as  one  of  its  leaves, 
and  other  things  ecjuallv  logical." 

There  ai'i'  things  to  hi'  remembered  in 
these  witt\    words  of  advice. 

.\fler  the  rococo  phase,  stvle  changed. 
There  ensued  a  new  destruction  conseijuent 
upon  the  geiiei-al  poverty  of  ITfiO.  When 
better  times  ri'turned.  the  sil\  ersiniths  began 
anew  to  W(n-k.  but  taste  liad  alteri'd,  .and  other  of  the  T>ouis  X\'I.  type.  The  latter 
novelty     was    demanded.      Then     arose    the       has   its  base  decorated  witll  the  garland  of 


riiile  .Will../.    (■;.H.II,sli<-k:    l.irin.l  of  the  Uiu'elli-y 


SILVERSMITHS   AKT 


oak-lc!ives  whicli  Wiis  so  extensively  used  in 
tliis  style,  often  oceurrino-  in  the  furniture 
of  the  same  epoch.  The  candlestick  of  the 
Regency  retains  the  shells  which  compose  a 
decorative  motif  tj'rtath   honored  in  the  time 

of  Louis  xn'. 

AVe  illu--tratr  cither  candlol  ick>  of  the 
same  century  (Plate  X\'II.),  preserved  at 
Troyes,  which  are  fine  examj)les  of  the  Louis 
XA'I.  style;  also  another  candlestick  of  the 
period  (if  tile  ]{en;iiicy,  ton'cther  with  a  milk 
jun',  which  leads  us  to  the  rococo  style. 

There  is  scarcely  need  to  comment  ;  for 
works  brought  thus  together  are  themsclyes 
eloquent.  At  the  side  of  tlu'  heavy  dignity 
of  the  Regency  candlestick  we  note  the 
somewhat  careless  grace  of  the  rococo  milk- 
jug,  with  its  weak,  contorted  lines,  its  ab- 
sence of  synmietrical  composition  and  the 
floral  decoration  which  invades  its  surface, 
as  if  by  chance;  its  lack  of  strength  also  in 
design,  and  the  \uiexj)ected  entrance  of  cer- 


I'hilc  Will.   I, 


l.iiii  iiHxplicable  decorative  motifs.  All 
these  characteristics  comj)ose  the  rococo 
si  vie,   uhich   was   set    in    fashion   in    France 


riiit<-  .\I.\.     Service  ill  silvj-rcilt  c-xct-iitccl  liy  ( 'ciihiiii-t,  in  lTa;i.  fm-  Ijci.iii  Miiiic-  l.c-./inskii 


321 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


imilcr  T.oui-.  X\  .,  wliicli  imadt'il  tlie  WDi'ltl. 
and  lias  Ict'l,  ilouii  Id  niir  own  tmics,  ili'cj) 
and    I'ctii'rttahlr    tl'aiTs. 

^\Im).  in  tlic  iMcoco  >l  \]r  IS  a  service  m 
silv.T-^-ilf  (I'latr  XIX.),  inailc-  li_v  Cousinet 
ill  17!ii),  fi>r  the  iiiieen,  ^Marie  Lecziiiska 
(Cliahriere-Artes  ).  Rococo  certainly,  l)ut 
possessed  witlial  of  a  certain  dii;nit_v.  a  cer- 
tain imposing'  st\]e.  And  if  the  decoration 
he  "hollv  accordint''  to  the  new  taste,  tluTC 


ri.ilf  XX.     Tray  and  .iiiit--  fn.in  tlj.'  ('alliidral  of  N.-iiii-y 

still  resides  in  the  work  as  a  whole  a  certain 
sense  of  coiii|iosition,  s\  ininctrv  and  ])ro])or- 
tioii  which  niiist  he  noted  with  ple.asiire. 

In  ;i  iiiiK'li  freer,  niueh  less  successful  .■iiid 
less  yracefiil  species  of  rococo,  hut  vet  cliar- 
acteristii'  .and  t\])ic:il  of  ,i  period,  we  find 
the  silver  tr.i\  and  the  cruets  from  the 
C.athedr.al  of  X.ancy   (Plate  XX.). 

The  works  ri'inainino-  to  he  examined  are 
iiKU'e  n'r.aerful.  For  exampli',  the  silver 
coffe -pot     d-ntint;'    from    the    time    of    IjOUis 


X\  I.,  hut  ret.aiiiiiif4'  in  the  sweep  of  its  lines 
.a  rememhr.ince  of  rococo  (Plate  XXI.).  It 
is  ,a  tvpe  which,  orin'in.allv  ])leasiiio'.  Las 
heiai  re|iroduccd  in  oi'r  own  times,  until  it 
has  heconie  tiresome  ,and  c:)inmoiiplace. 

A  sou])-tureeii  of  the  s.ame  ])eriod  (Plate 
XXII.),  is  more  restrained  in  style  and  cle- 
H'.aiit  in  form.  Hut  of  this  type,  the  most 
important  ])iece  is  the  soup-tureeii  (Plate 
XXIII.),  tlir  work  of  (iermain,  who  was  a 
cilehr.ited  t;'old  .and  silver- 
smith of  the  kiiii;'  .ahout  the 
ve.ar  ITTo.  It  is  a  \erv  beau- 
tiful piece,  hiii'hlv  ornament- 
ed, hut,  .at  the  s.ame  time,  well 
com])osed, solid  ,aiid  structur.al. 
'Pile  t\\o  follow  mo-  plates 
(Pl.ate-,  XXIW  .and  XXV.) 
rrprescait  tlu'  rocot'o  stvie  out- 
side of  I'r.ance:  the  first  one 
helllt;'  .111  old  ceiiter-piece,  pre- 
served .at  Riii'.i.  The  second 
pl.att'  ri'prodiices  \  ases  that 
js^  e\ist      ,at      C.assel.      Ill      these 

<L,  worL>     we     see     the     too     ricll, 

too    cxulier.anf.     oveiiiurckned 
f.aiicv  of  (irrm.an  rococo.      'Po 
the  Last  ex.ample  especi.ally  the 
criticisms      which      we      have 
(|iioti'd      from      "Le      ^lercaire 
(i.alant,"     apply     with     pe(aili.ar     jirecision. 
'Phese  wise  counsels  may  he  re.ad  with  ])rofit 
in   |)resence  of  one  of  tlu'  ])ieces  in  which  ;i 
child  is  seen  driving'  se.a-lioi'ses  twice  sm.aller 
th.aii  himself. 

We  li.ax'e  now  p.asseil  in  review,  with  oiii- 
readers,  the  seven  centuries  which  the  history 
of  the  sihersimtirs  art  .assii^n^  to  the  Chris- 
tian wiu'ld.  We  li,a\e  show  n  .all  the  notable 
works    which    constitute    the    pridi'    of    the 


il 


SILVKKS.MITHS    AKT 


Middle  Ayes,  of  tlu'  Ui'iiasciiu'c  piriod,  and 
of  modern  times;  .■md  \M'  liave  strivi'ii.  in  tiie 
course  of  this  nipid  review,  to  place  under 
full,  clear  li<jht  the  dominant  ideas  which 
ins])ired  the  old  workers  in  the  precious 
metals.  We  have  also  exercised  our  ri^'ht 
of  judo-nierit.  Such  examinations  of  the 
productions  of  the  past  would  he  a  steriU' 
annisenient.  if  we  did  not  have  constant Iv  in 
siirjit  our  principal  ohject,  wliich  is  to  ex- 
tract from  the  work  of  so  nianv  centuries  all 
that  can  he  useful  and  yood  for  ourselves. 

There  now  remains  for  us  to  discover 
what  the  nineteenth  centurv.  of  which  we 
are  the  chil(!ren  and  to  which  we  are  attached 
i)y  so  many  honds.  has  done  with  the  gold- 
and  silversmith's  art.  once  so  ma^niHcent. 

Such  will  he  the  ohject  of  a  final  article, 
■uid  thus  we  shall  o-ive  to  this  historical 
stud  V  a  necessary  conclusion  :  which  is  the 
art  of  the  i)resent. 


:\I.  SCHOPFKirS  Interestino-  account  of 
the  destruction  of  noted  works  of  the  silver- 
smith's art,  recalls  \'ictor  lIu<;"o's  famous 
sayin<^  that  "time  is  oni-dv.  hut  man  <;reed- 
ier."  We  are  wont  to  <reneralize  over  the 
losses  effected  by  wars  and  revolutions,  with- 
out forming  a  concrete  idea  of  what  these 
losses  are.  Second  onlv  to  the  waste  of 
human  life,  must  he  ranked  the  waste  of 
human  endeavor.  Soldiery,  fanatics  and 
^till  more  guilty  .sovereigns  have  done  all  in 
tiieir  j)ower  to  sweep  awa}'  the  world's  fund 
of  beauty.  This  is  especially  true  in  all 
that  concerns  works  of  industrial  art,  since 
the  materials  emjjjoyed  to  create  them  have 
a  distinct  and  oftentimes  a  high  conunerc-ial 
value.  .\n  illustration  of  such  destruction 
is  given  by  M.  Schopfer  in  alluding  to  the 


lack  of  coined  money  diiring  the  .Middle 
Ago.  He  w  rites  that  when  a  kinu-  or  mreat 
nohli'  found  liimsclf  conlVontnl  hv  debt,  his 
first  act  was  to  send  his  gold  and  silver  plate 
to  the  melting  j)ot ;  that  w  hen  ln'  again  grew 


I'iaiiN.XI.    CcilTii-iMit  III  silvi-r:  pi-rioil  of  Louis  XVI 

atiluent,  he  calleil  in  his  woiker  in  the  ])re- 
cious  metals  to  comert  his  surplus  coin  into 
some  rarelv  beautiful  article  for  the  ailorn- 
miiil  of  his  table,  or  his  bedchamber.  ^'et 
ill  \  iew   of  the  unhappy  fate  which  threat- 

353 


I'lat.'   XXII.     S" 


(lM 


rhitc  XXlll.     s.iLiii  tuni'U  by  (ifrniuiii.  guUlsmith  of  the  Kiiii;  of   Fi':iin-i-.  1775 


SH 


30j 


356 


SIT.VERS^riTTTS    ART 

cnf<l   and    most    ot'ti'ii    struck    tlifsc   master-  clinicnt,  arc  vet  sensitive  to  svmholism  and 

])ieccs,   tlioy   contitnied    to   l)e   made   hy    the  heauly.       I'roni    Ills    slud\     of    tiie    inferiors 

artists  witli  tlii'  most   lavisii  expenditnro  of  and    accessories    of    l''leniisii    c-luirclies,    tliis 

talent  and  time:  doubtless  also  in  that  spirit  artist  derived  a  rich  fund  of  material  u])on 

ot    hope(ulne»   which   exjiects   to   a\ert    for  «hicli  he  drew  iii  creatiiio-  some  of  liis  most 

one's  own  the  evils  that  fall  upon  otiiors.  satisfyinj;'  works;  as  for  example,  his  treat 

As  yi.  Sciiopfcr  has  shown,  the  ecclesias-  iiient  of  the  'J'ree  of  Life,  the  inspiration  for 

tical  vessels  were  much  safer  from  vandalism  \\liicli  he  found  in  the  cai'xed  oaken  pulpits 

than    were   the    objects   of    secular    use,    al-  of  the  old  o-iiild-masters.  \\  ho  t  hemseUes  de- 

thoutfh  in  moments  of  necessitv,  the  former  rixi-d  the  s\iiii)cil    from   the  earliest   a<);es  of 

also   passed   into   the  crucible.      Rut   when-  the  (  luircli. 

ever  possible,  the  crosses,  altar  uti'iisils  and  'l"he  practical  \alue  to  desio-ners  of  such 
reliquaries  were  re<rarde(l  as  the  holy  treas-  examples  of  eci-lesiastical  art  as  have  been 
ures  of  God  and  the  people,  and  as  such  illustrated  bv  ^I.  Sclioiifer  in  the  course  of 
were  held  inviolate.  This  fact  has  preserved  his  >erie>  can  scarcelv  be  over-estimated, 
to  us  the  fine  models  which  still  exist  in  Tlii'V  are  here  found  in  historical,  and,  there- 
number,  and  from  which  the  desio-ners  of  fore,  in  lonieal  si'i|iieiice.  Tliev  are,  further 
our  own  day  draw  such  valuable  lessons.  mori',  examined  as  to  their  structi;ral  and 
Hut  the  tradition  of  these  beautiful  objects  decorative  (pialities  b\  a  critic  who  has  bitii 
seems  to  li;i\e  descended  more  directlv  .and  t  lioroiiii,lil  v  formed  bv  trainiiiLC,  studv  .and 
purely  in  the  An^-lican  than  in  the  Roman  experience. 

Churcli;  the  taste  of  the  latter  havino-  been  I'p  to  the  present  point  in  the  criticism 
corrupted  by  the  meretricious  stvle  of  the  there  h.is  been  ;i  forced  scarcitv  of  secular 
eif^hteenth  century.  To  accept  tliesi-  medi-  illusti-ations.  IJul  if  will  be  iii.ade  pl.iiii 
aevai  works  as  perfect  models  of  tluir  kind  from  the  lU'xt  and  concludiiif;'  article  of  flu- 
is  not  to  eoj)y  servilelv.  It  is  no  use  of  t\.':it\  ^erie--  that  while  this  loss  is  irreparable,  it  is 
symbolism,  for  the  Church  is  immiit.-ibK'  in  vet  not  without  minor  t'e.-itiiri-s  of  coiiip(-nsa- 
principle:  tiierefore  its  art,  as  one  of  its  tioii.  l"or  h;id  the  examples  enumerated  in 
most  important  media  of  expn-ssion,  must  the  inxeiitoiy  of  the  Palace  of  A'ersailles 
not  assume  the  clianojeful  fasliions  of  the  been  spared  from  tin-  disastrous  effects  of 
world.  Ciiristi.-mit v  was  \niified  in  the  the  policv  of  the  "Sun-lvinn'.""  their  "liraiid 
^liddle  Affes,  and  Christian  art  then  at-  art"  miffht  have  sterilized  the  fancy  of  motU 
f.iined  its  liifrhest  exj)ri'ssion.  Therefore,  irn  desin-uers  to  a  <>reater  de<^ree  than  lias 
those  who  would  to-d;iy  produce  succcssfid  act iiall v  bien  doiu- bv  tht- « ork  of  the  "jiow- 
objects  destined  to  tiie  service  of  the  Church,  der,  patch  and  jieriw  io-  eijocli."'  For  in 
must  first  master  tlie  history,  but  more  espe-  secular  and  social  afl'airs  traditions  .-ire 
ciallv  the  s])irit  of  the  times  of  tin- Keforma-  broken  bc-twic-n  the  seventeenth,  eighteenth 
tion.  Sudi  masterv  was  the  secret  of  the  .-irf  .-ind  twinliefh  ceiituriis,  aiwl  ;i  new  art  as 
of  Burne-Jones.  who  therefrom  attained  a  the  expression  of  a  niw  life,  must  witness 
mysticism  which  attracts  alike  the  devout  existinff  facts  and  ideals, 
and  those  who.  unaffected  by  the  relipfious 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


IKUI    i:i'  Olilil.   'I'O  ■I'lIF,  (  ITV  AND 
TO  'J'HE  WORLD 

Till-",  CiU  is  a  liiylilv  (ii'i;'.-ilii/c(l  tv|ic 
(if  the  o-fiirral  life  of  an  'pocli  di' 
people.  It  was.  so  to  speak,  the 
germ-cell  of  the  antitjiie  civiliza- 
tion. As  snch.  that  is.  as  the  ])arent  of 
social  life,  it  i-ect'ivetl  a  ])rofonn(l  venei'a- 
tion  which  .approached  worship.  It  was  set 
npdii  an  hill,  spiritually,  as  well  .as  phvsi- 
e.alU.  It  I'epi'esented  to  the  (ireek  or  the 
Hiini.an  .ill  tii.at  is  he.uitiful,  s.afe.  sanified. 
ple.asnralile.  n'lnrions.  During  the  second 
organii-  period  of  society,  that  is,  the  ^liddle 
Ages,  it  w.as  coiisecr.ated  .anew,  passuig  on, 
like  .1  f.-iir  .and  vigorous  ]),ag.'in,  to  canon- 
iz.ation.  Till'  Holy  City  and  the  Church 
together  formed  one  grt'.at  i'once])t,  so  tli.at 
Be.atrit'e,  the  personitic.ation  of  Heaxenly 
Wisdom,  called  uj)on  the  ]iuritied  soul  of 
Dante:  "Conie.  .and  I  will  ni.aki'  you  a 
hurgher  of  tli.at  City.  « hereof  Christ  is  a 
Roman." 

The  ('itv  therefore  repi'esents  thi'  highest 
form  .aiiil  ilegree  of  socialism,  if  that  term 
he  t.aken  ill  its  primitive  sense  of  com- 
jianionship.  solid.arity.  organized  life  .and 
effort.  Rut  with  the  rise  .and  grmvth  of 
iiiili\  ido.alisiii.  the  ide.al  h.as  suffered.  Con- 
se(|Uellt]\.  the  re.alit\.  file  couia-ete  thing 
standing  for  the  ide.al.  h.as  lost  .a  portion  of 
its  foi'ce  .'iiid  lif'e.  The  Cits  li.as  no  longta'. 
as  a  whole,  the  religions,  p.atriotic.  artistic 
ch.ar.acter  uliich  onei'  stiuiulated  .and  ])os- 
sesseil  it. 

To  restore  tli.at  ch.ar.acter  in  such  modified 
form  .as  ma\'  he  adapted,  service.ahle.  essiai- 
ti.al  to  modi  rii  society  is  now  the  ohject  of 
,a  nio\emeiit  which  is  .active  .  it  were  hetter  to 
say.  irresist  ilile,  in  hoth  lieiiiisphrres.  In 
358 


Europe,  the  movement  is  most  inspiring,  as 
it  is  evidenced  in  Paris,  that  type  of  high 
municipal  organization,  in  Berlin,  the  ca])i- 
t.al  created  hy  men  of  lilood  and  iron  in  the 
face  of  natuivd  dis.adv.antages,  in  Dresden, 
that  fostering  mother  of  cidture,  and 
throughout  the  teeming,  laborious  cities  of 
]}elgiuiii.  will  re  the  Flemish  Renascence  an<l 
the  new  art  have  met  together  in  the  work 
of  restor.ation  .and  ])i'ogress.  In  America, 
the  movement,  the  s.ime  in  spirit,  ditl'ers  nec- 
ess.arily  in  external  evidences.  It  is  a  work 
of  expansion  and  develojjinent,  tending  to- 
ward tlie  emhellishment.  the  sanitation  of 
the  city,  and  the  conse(|uent  moraliz.ation  of 
the  urh.iii  jiopul.ation.  With  lis.  the  man 
w  ho  ni.av  he  called  the  institutor  of  the  niove- 
ment,  has  aln-ady  passed  to  his  reward. 
But  his  works  rem.ain  in  the  great  trihntes  to 
Xatui'c.  "more  enduring  than  bronze." — 
because  they  throb  with  Divine  life. — which 
he  has  liter.allv  pl.anted  in  the  lie.art  of  our 
cities.  The  l.al)(H's  dropped  liy  ()linsted  at 
his  death  arc  rapidly  .advaniang  among  us, 
to  ••flic  ruralizing  of  the  city,"  but  no  less 
toward  the  "urli.anizing  of  the  country." 
which,  by  his  own  confession,  he  regarded  ;is 
.111  ei|ual,  if  not  a  greater  task. 

It  would  therefore  seem  as  if  we  must 
ag.ain  accejit  tlie  ide.al  city  as  the  germ- 
cell  of  our  ci\  ili/.ation  -  not  ag.ain  to  wor- 
ship it  blindly  as  a  fetish,  but  to  hoiKU-  it 
with  a  calm,  scientific  spirit,  to  recognize 
111  it  the  essence  of  Law.  order  and  lailighten- 
nient. 

The  govi'rning  j)riiici])les  of  the  new  uiii- 
xers.al  iiii])etus  tow.ard  civic  miproMiiieiit 
.and  municip.al  art.  are  .admir.ablv  and  ]iri- 
ciselv  formulafi'd  in  the  constit''tion  of  the 
Nation.al  Society  of  Belgium.  They  are  of 
general     a  j)plic.at  ion.     containing     nothing 


UK  HI  i:t  ok  hi 


foroiju'ii,  and  nothing  irrelevant  to  our  own 
j)urposes  and  desires. 

Among  these  principles  and  plans  of  ac- 
tion, the  most  vital  and  significant  of  them 
is  that  one  which  purposes  "to  clothe  in  ar- 
tistic form  all  that  progress  has  made  useful 
in  modern  life."  This  principle,  if  judged 
superficiall>s  might  be  characterized  as  a 
simple  effort  to  transform  the  prosaic  into 
the  picturesque.  But  it  is  something  far 
beyond  this,  or  rather  such  transformation 
is  in  itself  a  great  moral  agent.  For  the 
evil  effects  caused  b_v  the  sordid  aspect  of 
city  districts  abandoned  to  elevated  railways 
and  other  means  of  rapid  transit  and  com- 
munication, are  too  deep  and  wide-spread  to 
be  calculated.  Depressing  as  such  districts 
are  to  the  visitor,  who  regards  them  as  pop- 
ulous deserts  through  which  he  must  pass  to 
reach  his  objective  point,  they  are,  beyond 
all  doubt,  the  active  source  of  despair  to  the 
forced  inhabitant,  who,  becoming  the  victim 
of  his  environment,  is  led  on  to  vice,  and  it 
may  be,  to  crime.  It  becomes,  tlien,  a  public 
dut^-  to  create  symmetry,  sunniness,  conven- 
ience, gaiety  and  variety  out  of  inveterate 
confusion ;  to  entrust  the  solution  of  this  in- 
tricate problem  to  the  finest  brains  and  the 
warmest  hearfcs :  so  that  we  may  multiply 
such  results  as  that  effected  by  the  genius  of 
Olmsted,  when  he  turned  to  a  decorative  pur- 
pose the  car-tracks  on  the  Beacon  Street 
Boulevard,  Boston :  causing  them  to  be  laid 
in  a  strip  of  turf  at  the  road's  edge,  and 
thus  making  brilliant  lines  through  the 
green  which  the  eye  follows  with  a  sense  of 
pleasure,  almost  of  mystery.  Reasoning 
from  such  a  result,  one  arrives  at  the  con- 
clusion that  "to  clothe  in  artistic  form  all 
that  progress  has  made  useful  in  modern 
life"  is  a  work  worthy  of  the  highest  talent, 


of  the  most  subtile  faculties  of  the  age;  a 
work  also  that  brings  with  it  the  greatest  of 
rewards :  that  is,  the  increase  of  happiness 
among  the  people. 

There  are  indeed  materialists  enough  and 
to  spare  who  scoff  at  the  project  of  making 
electric  light  poles  graceful,  and  street  ad- 
vertisements beautiful,  but  few  there  are 
who  do  not  imconsciously,  or  in  spite  of 
their  boasted  hardness,  turn  eagerly  to  the 
bits  of  beauty  which  are  scattered  through 
prosaic  New'  York ;  who  do  not  greet  with 
pleasure  the  old  trees  of  Washington  Square 
and  the  Dewey  Arch,  as  they  appear  in  vista 
from  the  elevated  trains :  a  view  grateful 
and  tonic  to  the  eye  distressed  by  the  almost 
uninterrupted  panorama  of  poor  domestic 
secrets  and  industrial  slavery,  wliich  defiles 
along  miles  of  the  upper  stories  of  tene- 
ments and  factories.  For  such  centers  of 
population  as  our  sea-board  cities,  civic 
improvement  is  a  means  of  salvation  to  be 
viewed  on  the  same  plane  as  the  agencies  of 
religion,  law  and  philanthropy,  with  all  of 
which  it  is  closely  and  vitally  connected. 

A  second  principle  of  the  great  movement, 
less  applicable  in  a  certain  restricted  sense 
to  our  own  country  than  to  Europe,  can  yet 
be  broadly  interpreted  among  us.  This,  as 
fonmilatcd  by  the  Belgian  Society,  is  "to 
transform  the  streets  into  picturesque  mu- 
seums comprising  various  elements  of  edu- 
cation for  the  people." 

Prominent  among  "these  various  elements 
of  education"  is  the  effort  to  strengthen  the 
sense  of  nationality  by  restoring  as  far  as 
may  be  the  external  glories  of  the  old  Flem- 
ish towns.  The  effort  is  made  with  the 
jiractical  good  sense  marking  all  Belgian 
governmental  schemes,  and  the  result,  it 
must  be  believed,  will  not  only  justify,  but 

359 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


also  reward  the  effort.  The  restoration  of 
town-halls  and  corporation-houses,  now  so 
active  throughout  the  small  country  of  what 
may  almost  be  called  city-republics,  is  no 
attempt  to  galvanize  a  dead  civic  life.  The 
"museums  of  the  streets"  residina;  in  the 
restored  public  buildings  stand  as  familiar 
and  powerful  witnesses  of  the  times  when 
Ghent  and  Bruges,  Brussels  and  Antwerp 
stood  before  the  world  as  models  of  munici- 
pal constitution,  of  financial  honor  and  suc- 
cess. They  suggest  to  the  alert,  intelligent, 
laborious  people  who  daily  throng  the 
squares  above  which  they  rear  their  high- 
stepped  gables  and  their  brilliantly  gilded 
fafades,  the  possibilities  of  industrial  enter- 
prise and  colonization.  The  memories  of 
the  Oriental  and  Italian  commerce  so  suc- 
cessfullj'  pursued  by  the  Fleming  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  inspire  the  Belgian  of  to-day 
who  transfers  his  capital  to  the  Congo  Free 
State  or  to  the  forests  of  Canada. 

The  extension  of  this  principle  to  Amer- 
ica in  a  broad,  general  sense  is  both  possible 
and  practicable,  as  has  been  proven  by  a 
number  of  highly  successful  experiments. 
A  strong  sense  of  nationality  is  an  impera- 
tive need  in  our  cities  of  the  coast,  and  the 
Middle  West,  which  receive  the  first  force 
of  the  shock  sustained  by  our  institutions 
from  the  contact  of  immense  masses  of  for- 
eigners. Our  "Americans  in  process"  re- 
quire that  "element  of  education"  which 
resides  in  sucli  memorials  as  the  Shaw  Tab- 
let in  Boston,  the  figure  of  Nathan  Hale  in 
tlie  City  Hall  Square,  New  York,  and  the 
great  Lincoln  statue  in  Chicago.  It  can 
not  be  regarded  otherwise  than  as  a  melan- 
choly fact  that  the  historic  quarter  of  Bos- 
ton has  been  abandoned  to  a  population  of 
poor  Hebrews,  Italians  and  Portuguese; 
360 


that  the  belfry  which  stands  as  a  beacon- 
light  in  our  history,  now  sends  out  the  voices 
of  its  bells  to  mingle  with  the  Yiddish  of  the 
Ghetto.  "The  museum  of  the  street,"  as 
constituted  by  the  "Old  North  Church,"  is 
even  more  necessary  to  the  place  which  it 
consecrates  than  are  the  town-halls  and  the  , 
corporation-houses  to  the  public  squares  of  * 
Belgium;  since  tiie  Church  represents  the 
jiurest  and  highest  ideal  of  self-sacrifice,  of 
devotion  to  an  uncertain  cause,  and  of  a 
patriotism  sentimental,  lofty,  and  far  re- 
moved from  a  love  of  city  or  country  which, 
if  closely  studied,  is  found  to  have  its  root  in 
the  impulse  to  accumulate  riches  and  to 
surpass  one's  rival  in  splendor. 

Surely  the  "museum  of  the  street"  is  a 
crying  need  of  our  cities.  But  in  our  new 
coiMitry,  it  must  serve  a  new  purpose.  It 
nnist  be  oriented  toward  the  future,  rather 
than  toward  the  past.  Its  task  is  not  to 
restore,  but  to  educate.  There  must  be  no 
"art  for  art's  sake"  in  the  studio  accept- 
ance of  the  term :  that  is  no  tours  de  force 
of  the  architect,  sculptor,  or  decorator, 
should  be  imposed  upon  the  public  by  mu- 
nicipal authorities,  who  must,  if  worthy,  be 
at  once  the  guardians  of  funds  and  the  pro- 
moters of  taste.  Let  us  hope  that  the  pres- 
ent impulse  toward  civic  improvement  may 
lie  carried  forward  to  all  that  it  now  prom- 
ises;  so  that,  at  no  distant  day,  the  typical 
American  street  may  display  a  simple, 
structural  style  of  architecture  expressing 
our  national  ideals  of  democracy ;  that  our 
city  parks,  by  their  unadorned  beauty,  may 
jierpetuate  the  memory  of  the  great  lover  of 
Nature  who  devoted  his  life  to  create  them 
wherever  population  had  massed  itself; 
finally,  that  our  public  squares  may,  in  their 
monuments  and  statues,  witness  the  influence 


URBI    ET   ORIU 


of  the  grave  genius  of  Saiiit-Gaudoiis,  the 
American  sculptor,  who  to  tlie  pure  sim- 
plicity of  the  Greek  joins  the  intensity  of 
the  modern  man.  In  a  word,  let  us,  like 
the  nations  of  older  civilization,  cultivate 
an  art  which  shall  not  rise  and  fall  with  the 
vicissitudes  of  private  fortunes,  but  rather 
be  "a  fire  built  upon  the  market  place,  where 
every  one  ma^-  light  his  torch." 


In  full  sympathy  with  the  American 
movement  toward  civic  improvement  and 
the  establishment  of  a  purer,  higher  type  of 
municipal  art.  The  Craftsman  proceeds  to 
the  formation  in  its  columns  of  a  depart- 
ment devoted  to  the  treatment  of  all  ques- 
tions relative  to  the  cause.  In  this  under- 
taking, by  which  it  is  hoped  to  render  a  real 
service  to  the  public,  the  Editors  will  reh' 
for  support  and  success  upon  the  constant 
cooperation  of  a  large  number  of  the  ablest 
architects,  sculptors  and  decorative  artists 
of  our  country,  as  well  as  upon  the  occa- 
sional aid  of  foreign  writers  of  distinction. 

To  open  the  series  there  has  been  chosen 
an  architect  who  is  now  president  of  the  Art 
Commission  of  the  City  of  New  York,  and 
the  former  president  of  the  Municipal  Art 
Society,  and  of  the  Reform  Club.  Mr. 
Warner,  for  several  decades,  has  been  iden- 
tified, almost  to  the  degree  of  leadership, 
with  nearly  every  important  question  of 
urban  improvement.  He  is,  therefore,  in 
authoritative  position  to  discuss  the  subject 
which  he  has  accepted.  In  his  article  en- 
titled "The  Importance  of  Municipal  Im- 
provements," he  develops  the  idea  of  the 
city,  from  the  time  when  it  was  but  a  fort- 
ress, a  seat  of  power,  temporal  or  spiritual, 
or  a  focus  of  commerce,  down  to  our  own 


day,  when  a  more  complex  concept  can 
alone  satisfy  the  needs  of  civilization.  lie 
writes  that  "tlie  twentieth  century  city  must 
be  planned  and  studied  as  the  normal  focus 
of  a  constantly  growing  proportion  of  the 
whole  life  of  a  people — in  which  there  is  no 
excuse  for  sacrificing  all  other  ends  to  any 
one;  but  rather  an  obvious  need  and  grow- 
ing disposition  to  sec  how  far  all  uses  may 
be  at  once  accommodated."  He  treats  of 
the  means  of  ingress  and  egress  and  of  in- 
terior transport,  as  the  basis  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  any  given  city ;  placing  next  in 
importance,  after  the  proper  development 
of  these  facilities,  the  provision  for  an  at- 
mosphere unsullied  by  smoke,  for  cheap  fuel, 
clean  streets  and  an  abundant  water-supply. 
He  emphasizes  the  necessity  of  creating 
Civic  Centers :  that  is,  the  use  of  natural 
places  of  public  rcsoi't  as  sites  for  great 
public  buildings.  Such  treatment,  he  just-* 
ly  says,  "shows  the  ideal  of  a  cit}'  to  be  that 
of  an  organism  rather  than  of  an  aggre- 
gation ;"  distinguishing  it  from  "the  mass- 
ing of  iuimanity  that  has  sometimes  been 
called  such,  as  a  definite  head,  with  well 
defined  subordinate  centers,  distinguishes  a 
man  from  a  jelly-fish." 

Adjunct  to  Mr.  Warner's  treatment  of 
the  city  as  a  vitalized,  self-conscious  whole, 
a  special  question,  insistent  in  every  center 
of  population,  is  discussed  by  M.  Charles 
Gans,  doctor  of  laws,  and  advocate  at  the 
Appellate  Court  of  Paris.  M.  Gans's  paper 
upon  "The  Workingman's  Dwelling  in 
France"  is  the  substance  of  the  thesis  pre- 
sented by  him  to  the  University  of  Paris,  in 
candidacy  for  the  doctorate.  It  is  a  solid 
contribution  to  the  literature  of  its  species. 
It  reveals  depth  of  research  and  power  of 
logic;  while  it  exhales  a  love  of  humanity 

361 


THE   CKAFTSMAN 


wliich  argues  well  for  the  intellectual  and 
moi-al  attitude  of  republican  France.  It 
also  abounds  in  quotable  passages  which 
deserve  place  beside  certain  chapters  in 
Ruskin's  latter-day  gospel.  Such,  strong 
and  exquisite  in  their  simplicity,  are  expres- 
sions of  pure,  generous  thought  like  these : 

"The  people  have  the  right, 
not  only  to  knowledge,  but  also,  and  to  a 
still  higher  degree,  to  beauty.  To  socialize 
science  is  well,  but  beauty  also  demands  and 
requires  to  be  socialized." 

"Society,  if  it  imposes  duties 
upon  tlie  individual,  also  contracts  toward 
him  obligations :  the  first  of  which  is  to 
associate  him  in  the  general  progress." 

"All  human  beings  have  need 
■of  casting  aside  the  material  cares  of  exist- 
ence ;  of  raising  the  soul  toward  the  Ideal ; 
of  refreshing  it  at  that  soiuxe  of  pure  de- 
light which  is  the  art-sensation." 

"The  enjoyment  afforded  by 
beauty  is  no  sterile  pleasure.  It  is,  on  the 
contrary,  the  mother  of  intellectual  force 
and  of  moral  purity." 

From  such  encouraging  beginnings  as 
are  made  by  the  papers  of  Mr.  Warner  and 
M.  Gans,  it  is  hoped  that  The  Craftsman's 
sympathy  with  one  of  the  greatest  of  mod- 
ern movements  will  be  productive  of  a  good 
appreciable  and  measurable ;  that  it  may  be 
translated  from  words  into  action. 

The  series  of  jjapers  upon  cognate  sub- 
jects will  continue  throughout  the  j'car 
1904,  and,  as  now  proposed,  stands  as  fol- 
lows as  to  subject,  each  paper  to  be  written 


liy  a  recognized  authoritj'  in  his  own  field: 
First  Group 

I.  The  Importance  of  Municipal  Improve- 

ments. 

II.  The  History  of  Village  Improvement  in 
the  United  States. 

III.  The  Commercial  A'alue  of  Design. 

Second  Group 

IV.  City  Plan. 

V.  Parks. 

VI.  Street  Fixtures. 

Third  Group 

ATI.   Architecture;  foreign  point  of  view. 

VIII.  Architecture ;     American     point     of 
\iew. 

IX.  Painting  ;  foreign  point  of  view. 

X.  Painting ;  American  point  of  view. 

XI.  Scul])ture;  foreign  point  of  view. 

XII.  Scu]j)turc;  American  point  of  view. 


THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  MUNICIPAL 
IMPROVEMENTS.  JOHN  DEWITT 
WARNER 

IN  its  essentials,  the  city,  as  an  institu- 
tion, is  as  old  as  the  race.  But  the 
present  problem  is  peculiarly  a  Twen- 
tieth Century  one.  Not  but  that  great 
and  beautiful  cities  have  existed,  by  whose 
experience  we  may  be  guided  as  to  one  or 
another  of  even  the  more  important  items 
with  which  we  have  to  deal:  but  that,  until 
now,  municipal  development,  so  far  as  con- 
sciously planned,  has  been  but  an  incident 
of  self-defense,  government,  religion,  or 
commerce.  Indeed,  in  their  more  important 
aspects,  most  cities  now  existing  are  the  un- 
calculated   "survival  of  the   fittest"   in  the 


MUNlLirAL    IMrUON'EiMENTS 


attrition  of  human  aggregates — the  later 
incidents  of  original  development  as  a  fort- 
ress, a  court,  a  temple,  a  market,  a  workshop, 
with  a  tendency  toward  combination  of  sev- 
eral or  all  of  those  ;  but  of  gravitation  rather 
than  conscious  mutual  intent. 

Of  the  old  cities  now  extant  two  charac- 
teristics are,  therefore,  common — one  the 
virtual  combination  of  all  the  principal  fea- 
tures of  cities ;  and  the  other  the  frequently 
grotesque  unfitness  of  each,  as  an  original 
proposition,  for  what  to-day  are  the  princi- 
pal ends  it  serves — commerce,  for  example, 
being  hopelessly  handicapped  at  a  site 
chosen  for  a  fortress  that  is  now  in  ruin,  or 
for  a  cathedral  now  long  the  memorial  of 
burned  out  zeal,  or  for  a  court  of  an  extinct 
local  dynasty. 

The  Twentieth  Century  City  must  be 
planned  and  studied  as  the  normal  focus  of 
a  constantly  growing  proportion  of  the 
whole  life  of  a  people — in  wliicli  there  is  no 
excuse  for  sacrificing  all  otlier  ends  to  any 
one ;  but  rather  an  obvious  need,  and  grow- 
ing disposition  to  see  how  far  all  uses  may 
be  at  once  accommodated.  For  the  condi- 
tions of  modern  civilization  leave  ever  more 
hopelessly  in  the  rear  the  city — no  matter 
how  ideally  fitted  for  one  use — that  is  so 
situated  as  not  to  be  generally  available  for 
others.  To  thrive,  therefore,  a  city  must 
be  made  attractive  for  all  purposes — not  all 
purposes  that  cities  have  some  time  served ; 
but  those  that  cities  now  serve. 

In  our  greatest  cities — London,  New 
York,  Paris,  Vienna,  Berlin,  Constantinople, 
Pekin,  Chicago,  St.  Petersburg,  Glasgow, 
St.  Louis,  Buenos  Ayres,  we  have  survivals 
or  examples  of  every  class — but  all  now 
thoroughly  modern  in  this — that,  however 
the}'  were  originally  developed,   no   really 


great  city  is  now  dependent  upon  remaining 
a  center  of  war,  government  or  religion  ;  or 
would  not  survive  the  loss  of  all  such  advan- 
tages; or  would  not  he  ruined  by  failure  of 
her  comnicrce,  and  crippled  by  that  of  her 
manufactures  ;  or  where,  with  late  raising  of 
standards  of  life  and  comfort,  the  extent  to 
wliich  it  is  the  chosen  residence  of  those  who 
are  free  to  go  elsewhere  is  not  a  great  and 
increasing  factor  in  its  prosperity  and  pros- 
pects. 

In  short,  as  contrasted  with  the  city  of 
the  past,  the  city  of  to-daj'  is  best  charac- 
terized by  the  dwindling  of  military,  politi- 
cal and  ecclesiastical  factors,  and  the  growth 
of  business  and  domestic  ones.  Less  and 
less  can  it  be  "left  to  grow."  More  and 
more  must  it  be  planned  and  built.  To  the 
essential  use  of  each  old  city  other  uses  were 
casually  added.  In  the  new  city,  mutual 
cooperation  towards  service  of  all  interests 
must  be  its  foundation  principle. 

Perhaps  the  most  important  point  to  be 
kept  in  mind  is  that  late  increase  in  facilities 
for  communication  and  transport  has  made 
of  each  city  a  potential  center  for  a  wider 
district  than  it  used  to  reach,  and  at  the 
same  time  has  left  it  rivaled  by  others,  and 
itself  in  danger  of  losing  influence,  in  the 
very  field  where  it  has  hitherto  been  supreme. 
This  means  that,  for  an  indefinite  time  to 
come — until  the  world  is  thoroughly  read- 
justed  as  a  single  limited  country — a  city 
cannot  stand  still.      It  must  grow  or  decay. 

It  can  never  be  too  often  recalled  that  Art 
is  not  a  thing  to  be  done,  but  the  right  wav 
to  do  whatever  is  to  be  done.  Municipal 
Art  is,  therefore,  simply  the  best  way  to 
make  a  city  what  it  ought  to  be — best  fitted 
for  all  ends  of  a  city — a  city  of  to-day — a 
city  of  the  future. 

363 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


First  and  most  important  of  all  are  the 
means  of  ingress  and  egi'ess,  and  of  trans- 
port within  the  city.  Upon  such  develop- 
ment of  the  former  as  make  it  a  center  for  a 
locality,  a  state,  a  continent,  a  world — 
absolutely  depend  the  possibilities  of  any 
given  city.  Upon  the  latter  cquall}'  de- 
pends the  economy  of  a  city's  life  and  busi- 
ness— in  tlie  long  run  the  extent  to  which  its 
possibilities  shall  be  realized.  Tliese,  there- 
fore, are  the  first  essentials  of  a  city  plan — 
the  data  with  relation  to  which  all  develop- 
ment must  be  had. 

These  possibilities,  however,  are  those  of 
a  home,  a  shop,  a  caravansary-,  a  place 
for  the  life,  the  work,  the  culture  and 
the  entertainment  of  human  beings,  ever 
more  and  more  free  to  choose  the  best  op- 
portunities anywhere  offered.  The  pros- 
perity of  a  city  will,  therefore,  ever  more 
and  more  depend  upon  the  extent  to  which 
such  demands  are  met.  Next  after  the  gen- 
eral features  of  a  city's  plan  come,  tiiei-efore, 
bright  skies  and  abundant  water ;  and — 
scarcely  less  essential — cheap  fuel  and  clean 
streets. 

No  mistake  could  be  greater  than  that 
which  assumes  Municipal  Art  engrossed 
with,  or  mainly  interested  in,  mere  decora- 
tive features.  Rather  is  it  true  that  in  its 
more  essential  features,  a  city  must  fairly 
have  achieved  dignity  and  beauty  and  order 
and  cleanliness  and  convenience,  before  it  is 
fit  to  be  generally  decorated,  or  decoration 
can  be  made  really  effective.  These  essen- 
tials provided  for,  the  beautiful — not  as 
opposed  to  the  useful,  but  useful  in  whole  or 
in  part  because  it  is  beautiful — can  then  well 
he  sought,  and  such  civic  adornment  had  as 
shall  serve  religion — as  atAthens, civic  pride 
— as  in  Florence  or  Buda-Pesth,  or  offer 
364' 


hospitable  welcome  and  attraction  for  resi- 
dence and  amusement — as  at  Paris ;  or  ex- 
press national  ideals — as  at  Washington  or 
Berlin  ;  or  more  or  less  equably  meet  or  serve 
all  these — as  at  Rome  or  Vienna. 

Of  this,  perhaps  the  most  essential  item  is 
proper  emphasis  of  Civic  Centers — the  arch- 
itectural treatment  of  the  city  considered  as 
a  whole.  Indeed,  this  might  well  have  been 
included  in  the  prerequisites  for  adornment. 
And  tlie  finest  examples  of  such  emphasis, 
serving  as  they  do  the  convenience  and  the 
dignity  of  the  city,  are  striking  arguments 
for  the  truth  that,  in  its  last  analysis,  fitness 
for  use  is  the  normal  of  beauty.  That 
public  business  can  best  be  transacted  at  the 
most  natural  place  for  greatest  public  re- 
sort; that  tlie  various  classes  of  such  busi- 
ness can  be  ti'ansacted  most  conveniently  in 
the  neighborhood  of  each  other ;  that,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  variety  and  amount  of  public 
business  to  be  provided  for,  economy  per- 
mits and  popular  sentiment  dictates  exten- 
sive and  im])osing  architectural  groups,  with 
park  and  ])laza  treatment ;  ajid  that  foci 
thus  developed  are  the  points  at  which  may 
best  be  located  the  more  important  transport 
connections — each  is  obvious.  Combined, 
they  show  the  ideal  of  a  city  to  be  that  of  an 
organism,  rather  than  of  an  aggi'egation. 
From  the  standpoint  of  utility  as  well  as  of 
art,  a  thoroughly  developed  and  dignified 
civic  center  with  secondary  local  ones,  as 
naturally  characterizes  an  ideal  "city"  of 
to-day,  and  distinguishes  it  from  the  mere 
massing  of  humanity  that  has  sometimes 
been  called  such,  as  does  a  definite  head  with 
well  defined  subordinary  vital  centers  a  man, 
as  distinguished  from  a  jelly  fish. 

As  to  the  general  importance  of  beauty 
to  a  city's  welfare,  there  are  few  who  do  not 


MIN  K  U'AL     IMTKON  KM  FATS 


feel  it  without  waiting  to  reason  it  out,  and 
probabl}'  none  wlio,  having  tliought,  will 
raise  an^'  question.  Take  growth  in  pros- 
perous citizenship.  Tiie  individual  factors 
of  .such  citizenship,  wherever  they  may  liavc 
attained  their  prosperity,  arc  precisely  those 
«  ho  have  thereb}'  become  most  free  to  choose 
the  location  of  their  residence,  and  most  dis- 
po.sed  to  do  so  with  reference  to  pleasant  life 
for  themselves  or  other  families.  As  be- 
tween any  given  city  and  every  otlier  at 
which  such  citizens  might  settle,  there  is, 
therefore,  a  most  practical  rivalry  as  to 
which  shall  offer  the  most  potent  attractions. 
To  most,  this  will  largely  mean  the  most 
beautiful,  healthful  and  comfortable  place 
of  residence.  And  it  goes  without  saying 
that  far  more  than  residence  is  thus  involved. 
For  in  proportion  as  one  is  held  at  a  citj-,  or 
brought  back  to  it  by  his  comfort — his 
tastes — his  home  associations,  in  like  pro- 
portion will  that  city  tend  to  be  the  place  of 
his  investments,  the  arena  of  his  enterprise, 
the  beneficiary  of  his  bounty. 

As  a  business  proposition,  therefore, 
Municipal  Art  in  its  widest  sense  is  the  most 
tempting  investment  possible  for  a  city  so 
favored  as  easily  to  be  made  beautiful — a 
most  essential  one  for  one  less  fortunately 
placed,  and  one  of  the  most  profitable  possi- 
ble that  either  can  make. 

Again :  The  principle  of  democracy — 
that  the  public  expenditure  should  be  most 
favored  that  most  equally  benefits  the  great- 
est number — suggests  adequate — liberal — 
investment  in  public  art.  For,  after  all,  at- 
tracted and  held  as  are  the  well  to  do  by  its 
aggregate  at  a  given  city  or  neighbor- 
hood, keen  enjoyment  of  its  details  cliarac- 
terizcs  our  ma.s.ses  far  more  than  our  classes. 
In  our  courts,  on  our  exchanges,   in   our 


legisl.'itures,  at  work  in  our  laboratories,  wc 
find  many  distinguished  and  worthy  men 
wiio  have  cultivated  one  or  a  few  senses  at 
the  expense  of  the  rest,  and  who  have  become 
blind  to  color,  deaf  to  music,  or  dumb  to  feel- 
ing. Rut  your  average  fellow-citizen  is  not 
so.  Nine  out  of  ten,  taken  at  random  from 
your  schools,  your  workshops,  3'our  holiday 
crowd.s,  can  still  see  and  hear;  and  their 
heartstrings  sound  true  to  evcrj-  touch  of 
sentiment.  The  masses  of  no  city  liavc  ever 
failed  to  appreciate  a  great  temple,  a  beau- 
tiful park,  a  dignified  statue,  an  effective 
historic  painting,  a  stirring  drama,  a  strain 
of  lofty  music,  or  a  rhyme  that  deserved  to 
be  popular. 

Not  only  tiiis,  but  public  art  is  peculiarly 
for  the  enjoyment  and  profit  of  the  great 
masses  of  those  in  straitened  or  moderate 
circumstances,  rather  than  of  the  well-to-do. 
One  whose  home  is  one  of  ideal  comfort, 
and  filled  with  art  and  literature,  is  so  far 
independent  of  outside  conditions  as  to  be 
least  affected  by  them — and  too  often  least 
concerned  in  them.  With  the  average  citi- 
zen, however,  such  of  art  as  he  can  gather  at 
his  home  is  far  too  little  to  satisfy  him.  It 
is,  therefore,  the  great  masses  of  our  people 
— wage  earners  in  especial- — the  very  ones 
whose  home  resources  are  most  limited — who 
most  appreciate  and  are  most  interested  in 
the  public  art  upon  which  they  must  depend 
to  gratify  their  sense  of  beaut}',  to  rouse 
their  civic  pride,  to  stir  their  public  spirit. 

And,  finally,  for  the  perpetuation  of  its 
ideals  and  the  culture  it  prizes,  each  city 
should  cherish  public  art.  We  cannot  tell 
precisely  what  fathers  or  mothers  are  now 
roaring  those  who  shall  control  its  affairs 
fifty  years  hence.  But  one  thing  we  do 
know,  beyond  peradventure, — that  they  will 

305 


THE   CHAFTSMAN 


be  almost  exclusivol}',  not  of  those  who  have 
crucified  tlieir  senses  to  serve  their  ambition, 
but  those  wlio  are  _yet  in  toucli  with  nature. 
It  is  upon  public  art,  therefore — the  art  that 
inspires  the  ''proletariat,"  the  thousands 
from  whom  will  rise  the  leaders  of  the  future 
- — that  we  must  rely  for  any  inspiration 
broad  enough  or  virile  enough  to  count  in 
culture. 

Art  for  the  city's  sake — Art  for  its  peo- 
ple's sake.  Such  is  the  end  sought.  But 
in  seeking  it  there  is  found,  more  certainly 
than  in  any  other  way,  the  most  effective 
promotion  of  what  we  hear  called  "Art  for 
Art's  sake" — much  or  little  as  one  may  care 
therefor.  For  Public  Art  is  the  only  great 
Art,  the  inspirer  of  all  other  Art.  On  the 
Acropolis,  in  our  cathedrals,  in  sculptural  or 
mural  addniment  of  buildings  dedicated  to 
church  or  state,  we  find  the  ark  of  the  old 
covenant  between  humanity  and  beauty,  and 
the  evangel  of  the  new  one.  Shut  in,  as  it 
were,  to  serve  its  owner,  private  art  is  but  a 
hearth  fire  that  warms  only  its  builder,  and 
leaves  but  few  or  no  embers  that  can  ever 
glow  again  after  the  breath  of  his  fortunes 
has  ceased  to  fan  it.  But  Public  Art  is  a 
fire  built  in  the  market  place,  from  which 
eacli  citizen  borrows  live  coals  for  his  own 
home ;  an  inspiration  of  those  whose  tastes 
and  impulses  are.  in  the  future,  to  represent 
the  private  as  well  as  the  public  culture  of 
Art  among  us — of  those  through  whom 
every  cult  of  the  beautiful  can  in  the  end  be 
best  promoted,  and  by  whom  must  be  cher- 
ished if  it  is  to  prosper. 

If  the  general  proposition  needed  further 
support,  it  could  be  found  in  the  recent  and 
growing  practice  throughout  the  world. 
During  the  past  generation  Vienna  has  been 
re-planned  and  decorated — not  especially  as 

366 


a  national  stronghold,  a  cathedral  town,  an 
imperial  residence,  a  university  center,  but 
as  all  these  at  once;  and  more  than  all  as  an 
attractive  jilacc  for  residence,  business  and 
sojourn  of  "the  million,"  who  but  shortly 
since  would  have  been  left  to  themselves  as 
far  as  concerned  provision  for  art  or  beauty. 
Berlin  lias  been  similarly  developed  until,  in 
aught  but  the  ripening  of  time,   it  rivals 
Paris.      Paris,  more  largely  from  business 
considerations,  has  been  so  constantly  add- 
ing to  her  attractions  that  it  has  been  fairly 
re-transfigured  since  the  days  of  the  empire. 
In  London,  the  (apparently)  most  hopeless 
of  prol)lems  in  city  beautification  has  been 
radically    attacked    by   the    cutting   of   an 
avenue  from  the  Strand  to  High  Holborn. 
In   New  York,   Chicago  and   Boston,   ring 
systems  of  park  areas — inland  and  water 
front — have  been  laid  out,  within  which,  on 
scale  never  before  conceived  of,  these  cities 
are  transforming  themselves  on  more  or  less 
systematic   plans.      Washington,   from   the 
first  a  "show"  city,  has  so  proved  itself  com- 
modious and  convenient,  about  in  proportion 
to  its  show  features,  as  to  have  practically 
decided  Congress  on  a  scheme  of  extension 
and  beautification  not  before  or  elsewhere 
had ;  while  in  such  cases  as  that  of  Cleve- 
laiid,  Springfield,  and  many  another  larger 
or  smaller  city,  the  tendency  of  our  time  is 
shown.      It  may,  therefore,  now  be  assumed 
that  the  business  instinct  of  our  city  coun- 
cils,  popular  interest   among  our  citizens, 
and  art  in  its  broadest  sense  are  at  agree- 
ment   and    effectively    cooperating  toward 
beaiftification  of  our  cities. 

The  richness  and  variety  of  the  resources 
to  be  exploited  are  as  yet  scarcely  appre- 
ciated by  those  who  have  studied  the  sub- 
ject.     Not   until   to   an   understanding   of 


WORKIXGIMAN'S     DWELLING 


the  street  systems  of  Wasliingtoii  and  Pivris, 
and  tlie  art  of  designing  civic  groups — such 
as  at  ^'icnna  is  largely  realized,  at  Berlin 
promised,  developing  at  Washington,  and 
dreamed  of  at  New  York — are  added  use 
of  color  as  lavish  as  at  Moscow,  but  better 
guided ;  the  harmonics  and  contrasts  of  such 
park  schemes  as  tiiose  of  Boston  and  New 
York ;  river  treatments  as  elaborate  and 
characteristic  as  those  of  Paris  and  New 
York ;  the  subtile  fitness,  each  for  its  place, 
of  scores  of  richly  decorated  plazas  and  ap- 
propriate adornment  of  their  civic  buildings 
that  dignifv  and  grace  the  cities  best  en- 
titled  to  be  called  such — can  one  see,  even 
in  his  mind's  e^-e,  the  City  of  the  Future — 
the  beaut}-,  the  wonder,  and  the  glory  that  it 
is  to  be. 


THE  WORKINGMAN'S  DWELLING 
IN  FRANCE.  BY  CHARLES  GANS. 
TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 
BY  IRENE  S.\RGENT 

THE  future  historian  wlio  shall  stud\' 
our  epoch  in  sufficient  perspective 
to  include  its  entirety  in  one  glance, 
and  shall  sweep  away  the  minor 
facts  obscuring  it,  will  try  to  understand  the 
philosophy  of  our  contemporaneous  social 
history.  He  will  .see,  without  doubt,  one 
dominant  idea  rise  and  prevail:  that  is,  the 
principle  first  accepted  by  our  times  of  the 
right  of  every  man  to  existence.  The  work- 
ing classes,  that  is,  the  very  considerable 
portion  of  the  world's  population  who  live 
solely  upon  the  product  of  manual  labor, 
have  been  too  long  misunderstood  and  sacri- 
ficed. Furthermore,  it  is  incontestable  that 
they  themselves  have  been  largely  responsi- 


ble for  this  situation.  Submitting  for 
centurier,  to  injustice,  the^'  had  accustomed 
themselves  and  others  to  the  idea  that  their 
own  social  state  was  normal,  inevitable  and 
unsusceptible  to  change.  Again,  the  work- 
ing classes  had  no  share  of  profit — although 
they  suffered — in  the  social  revolutions 
which  occurred  at  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  The  Revolution  of  1789 
was  effected  outside  their  limits.  They 
could  not  or  would  not  profit  by  it,  and  the 
middle  classes  who  effected  it  for  their  own 
advantage,  continued  to  regard  the  work- 
ingnian  as  an  indeterminate  quantity,  as  a 
being  who,  iiaving  his  hunger  and  thirst 
satisfied,  ought  to  be  contented  and  happy. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  however,  the  working  classes  awak- 
ened suddenly  to  a  sense  of  their  condition. 
But  quickly  they  relapsed  into  their  former 
state  of  apathy. 

It  is  only  within  a  period  of  thirty  v'ears 
that  this  unfortunate  condition  has  begun 
to  modify.  On  one  hand,  education  becom- 
ing gradually  more  general  and  almost 
compulsory  among  these  classes,  created  new 
needs,  and  also  new  aspirations.  On  the 
other  hand,  men  of  liberal  mind,  of  broad 
intelligence  and  free  from  old-time  preju- 
dices, arising  outside  the  working  classes, 
appreciated  and  approved  the  demands  new- 
ly formulated.  The  convictions  of  such 
men  swept  others  into  the  movement,  and, 
little  by  little,  a  principle  to-day  undisputed, 
acquired  strength  and  controlling  power: 
the  principle  of  the  right  of  every  man  to 
existence,  that  is,  to  physical  and  moral 
health. 

This  dominant  thought  had  important 
consequences  in  France,  where  individuals 
friendly  to  such  ideas  necessarily  existed  in 

3C7 


THE   CRAFTSINIAN 


larger  numbers  than  elsewhere.  It  created 
a  movement  wliicli  rapidly  spread  and  devel- 
oped. Scarcely  instituted,  it  was  propa- 
gated from  man  to  man.  All  those  who 
think,  all  those  who  comprehend,  wei-e  led 
away  by  the  beauty  of  the  idea.  And  now, 
to-day,  in  all  classes  of  society,  among 
tradespeople,  manufacturers,  authors,  scien- 
tists, and  artists,  there  are  men,  who,  con- 
vinced of  the  justice  of  the  theory,  are  mak- 
ing interesting  and  serious  attempts  to  ac- 
comphsh  what  tliey  lielieve  to  be  a  social 
duty.  Carried  forward  by  the  movement, 
the  legislator  has  been  forced  to  aid  it,  and 
of  late  years  numerous  laws  have  been  en- 
acted w  ith  the  object  of  bettering  the  condi- 
tion of  the  working-man.  This  universal 
impulse,  still  active,  has  produced  excellent 
results. 

The  thought  which,  of  necessity,  came 
first  to  the  original  apostles  of  the  principle 
of  the  riglit  to  existence  was  the  imperative 
need  of  removing  the  workingman  from  the 
dwelling  then  inhal)ited  by  him,  which  was 
not  only  unhealthy  for  his  body,  but  de- 
structive to  his  mind.  It  appeared  impos- 
sible to  reformers  to  afford  to  the  human 
being  a  healthy  moral  and  intellectual  exist- 
ence, if  his  nuderial  existence  were  not  first 
sanified  b}'  removing  him  from  the  hovel  in 
which  he  was  confined,  and  which  ren- 
dering home-life  impossible,  attracted  him 
to  the  vulgar  and  demoralizing  but  in- 
expensive jileasures  alone  within  his 
means  and  reach.  The  reformers  easily 
understood  that  before  adorning  the  minds 
of  the  poor,  it  was  necessary  to  cleanse  them, 
and  that  beings  born  in  vile  places,  deprived 
of  family  life,  constrained  during  childhood 
and  youth  to  wander  in  the  street,  and  later 
to  lounge  and  prowl  about  the  wineshops, 

3(i8 


were  incapable  of  the  effort  of  reflexion 
which  alone  could  afford  them  intellectual 
and  moral  existence.  This  thought  was 
afterward  followed  by  effective  realization. 
At  this  time,  the  question  formulated  it- 
self in  terms  much  more  simple  than  those 
in  wliicli  it  is  to-day  included.  It  was  then 
a  mere  question  of  removing  the  working- 
man  from  tliose  odious  tenements  in  the 
artisan-quarters  of  cities,  which  confined 
within  four  cracked  and  damp  walls  an 
incredible  number  of  individuals.  It  was  a 
question  of  creating  a  hearth  for  the  work- 
ingman, of  inspiring  him  with  a  taste  for 
family  life  and  home  pleasures.  Since  then, 
this  idea  has  become  definite;  this  conception 
has  broadened.  But,  at  first,  the  only 
thought  was  to  provide  for  the  workingman 
a  dwelling  in  which  comfort  and  hygienic 
measures  should  operate  alike  upon  his 
moral  and  his  physical  health.  This  was 
only  a  begiiniing,  but  yet  a  movement  which 
necessitated  a  pronounced  effort. 

The  houses  inhabited  by  the  workingmen 
were  most  defective  in  arrangement.  Some- 
times they  were  old  buildings,  dating  from 
times  when  the  respect  for  cleanliness  and 
sanitation  did  not  as  yet  exist.  The  neces- 
sity of  fitting  them  to  contain  a  large  num- 
ber of  tenants  had  made  them  still  more  to 
be  condemned.  There  were  other  houses 
which  had  been  built  for  the  express  purpose 
of  lodging  workingmen,  and  with  the  sole 
aim  of  utilizing  every  inch  of  ground.  But 
whatever  their  origin,  their  appearance, 
sometimes  picturesque,  revealed  an  absolute 
contempt  for  the  rules  of  hygiene  and  even 
of  the  most  rudimentary  morals.  It  must 
be  added  tliat  many  of  these  houses  still 
exist.  Their  condition  is  pitiable.  In 
Paris,   thev    consist   generally    of   immense 


WORKIXGMAN'S     DWELLING 


buildings  into  whicli  one  penetrates  by  a 
narrow  alley,  damp  and  dark,  closed  by  a 
gate.  At  the  very  entrance  one  is  stifled  by 
a  mixture  of  nauseating  odors.  Advancing 
with  uncertaintj-  in  tiie  gloom,  one  stumbles 
upon  the  first  steps  of  a  decayed  staircase. 
Often,  one  cannot  reach  these  halls  without 
first  passing  through  the  shop  of  a  wine- 
seller.  In  some  instances,  the  entrance  is 
wide,  but  gives  into  a  court  containing  all 
the  closets  of  the  house,  and  into  which  flows 
the  polluted  water  which  has  served  domestic 
purposes,  while  here  also  the  artisan  tenants 
ply  their  various  trades :  all  of  which  influ- 
ences burden  the  air  with  reeking  odors  and 
germs  of  disease.  Finally',  if  one  succeeds 
in  penetrating  into  the  separate  lodgings, 
one  notes  that  thej'  are  almost  all  composed 
of  a  single  room,  in  which  an  entire  famiW 
is  confined.  This  observation  is  corrobo- 
rated by  the  tables  prepared  in  1891  by  Dr. 
Bertillon,  which  show  that  28,475  families 
of  three  persons,  10,-iT9  families  of  four, 
3, 462  of  five,  1,161  of  six,  and  504  of  more 
than  seven  individuals,  were  occupying  in 
Paris  lodjjinffs  consisting  of  a  single  room. 
In  the  provinces,  the  same — sometimes  even 
worse — conditions  obtained.  Therefore, 
one  can  readily  conceive  that  against  such 
evils  the  first  struggle  was  instituted. 

"I  regard  the  enterprise  of  constructing 
cheap  dwellings,"  said  the  celebrated  econo- 
mist, Jules  Simon,  "as  the  most  worthy  that 
can  be  undertaken.  I  regard  it  as  a  work 
of  life-saving  among  morally  abandoned 
children.  The  famih'  must  everywhere  be 
reconstructed.  We  say  to  the  workman 
who  labors  hard,  who  exercises  an  exacting 
trade :  'Stay  at  home  after  your  day's  work. 
Take  your  recreation  in  your  own  lodgings !' 
But  what  are  these  lodgings.''     What  is  this 


room  in  which  air  does  not  circulate,  light  is 
wanting,  smoke  stifles  the  occupants,  and 
vile  odors  pursue  them;  in  which  the  entire 
family- -father,  mother,  children  of  diff'er- 
ent  sex,  well  and  ill,  large  and  small,  grovel 
together  in  a  promiscuousness  dangerous 
alike  for  health  and  morals.'"' 

To  the  men  of  high  purpose  who  resolved 
to  accoiii})lish  this  task,  a  single,  practical 
means  was  offered  in  Paris  and  the  large 
cities.  It  was  necessary  to  construct  large, 
economical  and  well-arranged  buildings  in 
which  each  family  might  secure  at  a  low 
rent  two  well  ventilated  rooms.  This  enter- 
prise was  the  beginning  of  the  Working- 
man's  Dwelling  (maison  ouvriere).  It  was 
already'  a  step  in  advance,  but  j-et  onl}'  a 
single  stage,  on  the  long  voute  which  was 
then  projected. 

The  idea  of  the  Workingman's  Dwelling 
was  not  wholly  new.  The  Emperor  Napo- 
leon Third  who,  having  at  once  fear  and 
need  of  the  working  classes,  ordered  the  con- 
struction of  lodgings  destined  for  them.  A 
inmihor  of  such  hou.ses  were  therefore  built 
on  the  Boulevard  Mazas,  in  the  Rue  Roche- 
chouart,  and  on  the  Boulevard  des  Bati- 
gnolles.  They  were  of  immense  size  and  • 
were  let  at  rentals  within  the  means  of  all 
purses.  But  the  question  of  finding  tenants 
for  them  became  a  serious  one,  since  work- 
ingmen  refused  to  enter  them.  Thej'  felt 
-a  deep  aversion  toward  living  in  these  great 
houses  of  which  the  exteriors,  resembling 
barracks,  repelled  them  almost  as  much  as 
the  fear  of  being  constantly  under  the  sur- 
veillance— then  so  severe — of  the  police 
authorities.  The  Emperor's  project  was 
necessarily  abandoned. 

The  workingman  of  the  present  day  can 
not  experience  the  same  fear  from  the  polit- 


369 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


ical  point  of  view.  Siiliseqiient  to  tlie  cstab- 
lisliment  of  tlie  Republic,  the  reformer  liad 
no  longer  to  make  allowance  for  this  obsta- 
cle. But  the  other  difficulty  continued  to 
exist.  It  was  of  first  necessity  to  give  to 
these  tenements  an  appearance  agreeable  at 
least,  if  not  attractive.  This  problem  was 
not  without  presenting  great  difficulties. 

However  well-intentioned  builders  may 
be,  tlicv  are  controlled  by  an  important 
consideration  for  which  they  must  first  of 
all  make  allowance.  This  is  the  question 
of  cost.  They  must  arrive  at  a  very  low 
cost  price.  Otherwise,  the  desired  end  will 
not  be  reached.  It  is  further  necessary  that 
the  rentals  be  sufficient  in  number  to  com- 
pose an  amount  representing  interest- 
monev  proportionate  to  the  capital  invested. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  not  losing  an  inch  of 
ground,  of  lodging  the  greatest  number  of 
persons  possible,  with  the  sole  reservation  of 
leaving  to  each  a  space  sufficient  to  satisfy 
the  requirements  of  hygiene  and  morality. 
These  are  obligations  which  relegate  aes- 
thetic considerations  to  a  secondary  place. 
On  one  hand,  the  tenement  liouse,  that  is  to 
say,  the  building  several  stories  high,  des- 
tined to  lodge  numerous  families  at  a  small 
cost,  can  not  derive  beauty  from  either  its 
form  or  its  structural  materials.  Certainly, 
a  skilled  architect  can,  bj'  certain  simple  ar- 
rangements, produce  an  interesting  effect, 
but  this  effect  will  be  one  which  will  appeal 
only  to  critics  and  experts. 

Tlie  builders  had,  therefore,  the  choice 
between  two  courses :  either  to  leave  the 
house  absolutely  plain,  or  to  apply  to  it 
ornamentation  at  low  cost,  of  which  the 
general  pretension  to  elegance  would  be  far 
from  justified. 

Of  these  two  solutions,  it  is  plain  that  the 

370 


first  is  the  better  and  worthier.  Extreme 
simplicity  is  much  nearer  beauty  than  the 
pretentious  and  often  ludicrous  attempts 
made  to  give  a  semblance  of  elegance  to  a 
fa(,-ade.  Unhappily  man}'  builders  have 
believed  themselves  justified  in  making  con- 
cessions to  the  bad  taste  which  is  too  fre- 
quent among  the  people,  and  have  souglit  to 
attract  tenants  by  the  pretended  richness  of 
their  exteriors. 

Workingmen's  dwellings,  dating  from 
different  periods,  are  found  in  considerable 
number,  in  the  large  cities,  notabl}'  in  Paris, 
Lyons,  Bordeaux  and  Marseilles. 

In  Paris,  in  the  Rue  du  Chateau  des  Ren- 
tiers, that  is  to  say  in  the  heart  of  an  artisan 
quarter,  tenement  houses  among  the  first  of 
the  reformed  type  were  constructed  by  M. 
Odelin.  They  are  seven  stories  in  height, 
with  a  facade  which  strives  to  be  in  the 
Louis  Thirteenth  style.  The  stories  are 
2m. 65  in  height.  Each  apartment  consists 
of  an  ante-room,  a  iied-room,  a  dining-room 
and  a  kitchen.  The  walls  are  papered  and 
the  ceiling  ornamented  with  a  cornice.  Gas 
and  water  are  carried  throughout  the  build- 
ing, and  the  largest  I'ent  is  six  hundred 
francs  the  year.  From  the  point  of  view 
of  space  and  price,  as  well  as  of  hygiene, 
these  apartments  are  excellently  designed. 
But  they  have  tlic  defect  to  which  we  have 
already  alluded :  the  desire  of  affording  them 
an  attractive  appearance  and  a  cheap  ele- 
gance led  the  builders  astray,  and  if  the 
lodgings  have  a  healthful  influence  upon 
the  minds  of  tenants,  the  Louis  Thirteenth 
facade  and  the  attempt  at  fictitious  luxury 
have  a  deploi-able  effect  upon  their  taste. 

The  tenements  erected  in  Paris  by  the 
Piiilanthropic  Society  arc  much  more  simple 
in  appearance.      They  are  massive,  square 


WORKIXGMANS     DWELLING 


constructions,  of  ciglit  stories,  cacli  storj' 
beino-  yni.()0  in  lieiglit.  The  front  walls  are 
of  ]ilain  brici<,  with  cornice  and  trimmings 
of  cut  stone.  Tliis  Society  lodges  six  iiun- 
dred  persi)ns  in  four  tenements.  l""roni  the 
strictly  piiilantiiropic  point  of  view,  as  well 
as  from  that  of  ingenuit_y  of  consti'uction, 
the  result  is  worthy  of  great  praise.  It  is 
otlicrwise  from  the  social  point  of  view. 
Such  crowding  of  tenants  removed  from 
them  the  possibility  of  moral  isolation  and 
mental  calm,  which  siiould  be  among  the 
objects  sought  by  those  who  construct  work- 
in  jjmcn's  dwellings. 

This  defect  being  almost  unavoidable,  it 
follows  that  the  tenement  house  can  not  be 
other  than  an  expedient,  a  makeshift.  It  is 
always  unsatisfactory  to  rent  to  a  working- 
man  a  portion  of  a  story  in  a  house  which, 
althoiigi)  logically  constructed,  has  required 
the  builder  to  economize  space  to  the  utmost 
limits:  as  a  consequence,  to  multiply  the 
number  of  tenants  to  the  point  of  almost 
restricting  them  to  a  life  in  common. 

Therefore,  those  who  had  this  question  at 
iieart  soon  directed  their  efforts  to  create  the 
individual  habitation. 

Already,  in  England,  under  royal  patron- 
age, serious  efforts  of  this  nature  had  been 
made.  In  France,  at  Mulhouse,  at  Noisiel. 
and  elsewhere,  industrial  proprietors  had 
built  little  villages,  in  which  the  well-con- 
structed houses  were  destined  solely  for  their 
workmen.  But  the  very  fact  that  the  pro- 
prietor owned  the  houses  somewliat  disaf- 
fected the  tenants.  Furthermore,  it  is  in- 
disputable that  this  situation  was  quite 
otherwise  than  agreeable,  or  even  beneficial 
for  them.  Beside,  the  associated  life  of  the 
factory  was  thus,  in  a  certain  .sense,  contin- 
ued during  the  hours  of  recreation  and  rest. 


the  workmen  were  bound  to  their  employer, 
whom  they  could  not  leave,  without  leaving 
also  liie  iicartli  to  which  they  had  grown 
accustomed. 

The  problem  was  not  yet  solved. 

Philanthropists  bent  their  energies  to 
overcome  the  difficulty.  They  sought  to 
realize  a  double  purpose  which,  at  the  begin- 
ning, must  have  appeared  to  them  so  dis- 
tant, so  difficult  of  attainment,  that  too 
much  praise  cannot  be  accorded  to  their 
efforts.  They  decided  to  find  means  to 
construct  for  the  workingman  an  individual 
dwelling  which  should  offer  shelter  alone  to 
him  and  his  family,  and  of  which  he  should 
become  the  owner. 

The  individual  dwelling  alone  permits  the 
workman  to  acquire,  together  with  the  sense 
of  being  at  home,  that  moral  calmness  which 
is  the  parent  of  mental  equilibrium.  The 
possibility  of  becoming  the  owner  of  the 
house  which  he  occupies,  gives  the  workman 
the  desire  of  making  it  beautiful,  of  adorn- 
ing it,  and  consequently  of  spending  at 
home  with  his  family  his  hours  of  recreation. 
But  still,  and  above  all,  it  was  necessary 
that  tiie  expenses  entailed  should  not  be 
beyond  his  resources. 

The  experiment  was  made  and  proved 
decisive.  Official  investigations  show  that 
the  system  which  allows  the  workingman  to 
become  the  owner  of  his  dwelling,  produces 
excellent  results. 

The  French  Company,  for  the  construc- 
tion of  low-priced  dwellings,  founded  in 
1889  with  the  view  of  giving  impulse  to  the 
movement  in  favor  of  an  idea,  at  that  time 
scarcely  outlined,  obtained,  in  ISO-l,  the 
passage  of  a  law  having  as  its  object  to 
further,  as  far  as  possible,  the  efforts  al- 
ready undertaken,  by  favoring  the  ])urchase 

371 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


of  real  estate,  by  giving  credit  to  purchasers, 
and  by  modifying  to  tlieir  advantage  the 
laws  of  inlieritancc.  The  Company  has 
pursued  witli  directness  and  dignity  the 
policy  to  which  it  is  bound.  The  effects  of 
the  law  already  mentioned  and  of  the  vigi- 
lant and  repeated  efforts  of  the  Company 
and  its  members  liave  been  important.  In 
1894,  there  existed  only  twenty-eight  asso- 
ciations for  the  building  of  low-priced  dwell- 
ings. In  1902,  they  liad  increased  to  nearly 
cigiity ;  while  to-day  they  number  one  hun- 
dred fifty  seven.  The  greater  part  of  these 
companies  are  so  organized  as  to  permit 
tlieir  tenants  io  purchase  dwellings  upon  a 
system  of  annual  liquidation  usually  dis- 
tributed over  a  period  of  twenty  years,  and 
which  allows  payments  to  be  made  in  small 
sums :  these  payments  added  to  a  low  rent, 
comjjosc  a  total  not  exceeding  the  price  paid 
by  an  ordinary  tenant  for  a  lodging  of 
equal  value.  Fiu'thermore,  if  these  associa- 
tions have  become  so  numerous,  it  is  because 
it  has  been  demonstrated  through  the  efforts 
of  the  promoters  of  this  idea,  that  these 
buildings  are  something  more  than  the  real- 
ization of  a  philanthropic  idea:  that  they 
are  an  excellent  financial  investment.  Thus, 
in  every  direction,  there  have  arisen  houses 
of  varying  models,  responding  in  each  local- 
ity to  the  demands  of  climate  and  of  man- 
ners and  customs,  as  also  to  the  tastes  of  the 
inhabitants. 

This  is  indeed  an  important  point.  The 
architect  who  has  conceived  a  type  at  once 
simple  and  elegant,  comfortable  and  eco- 
nomical of  a  workingman's  dwelling,  has 
done  nothing  useful,  if  he  has  not  first 
considted  the  tastes  and  the  customs  of  the 
region  in  which  the  dwelling  is  to  be  located. 
For  these  elements  are  essentially  variable. 

37-2 


If,  for  example,  houses  of  such  character  are 
to  be  built  in  the  North  of  France,  where 
miners  are  in  great  number,  it  will  be  possi- 
ble to  attract  occupants  only  by  making 
]3rovision  for  the  keeping  of  domestic  ani- 
mals which  these  laborers  need,  and  also  by 
providing  a  bright,  cheerful  room  which  the 
tenants  may  adorn  according  to  tlieir  de- 
sires. Thus,  some  time  since,  the  Mining 
Association  of  Anzin  abandoned  what  are 
called  foroK.s;  that  is  to  say,  an  assemblage 
of  similar  houses  forming  in  reality  one  vast 
tenement,  a  single  story  in  height,  and  divid- 
ed into  adjacent  courts.  This  Association 
devised  separate  houses  for  each  family,  in 
accordance  with  the  conditions  and  tastes  of 
the  region.  Each  house  includes  a  large 
liviiio-  room  and  a  smaller  room  on  the 
ffi'ound-floor ;  then,  two  rooms  on  the  second 
floor.  The  small  garden  contains  a  laundi-y, 
a  piggery,  a  chicken  coop  and  a  rabbit  war- 
ren. Further,  it  is  arranged  so  as  to  allow 
the  cookins:  to  be  done  outside  in  favorable 
weather.  Thus  the  principal  room  can  be 
arranged  as  a  parlor,  and  adorned  as  seems 
best  to  the  occupants. 

In  the  South  of  France,  open-air  life  is 
more  usual,  but  it  is  necessary  for  the  house 
to  be  well  ventilated,  and  arranged  so  as  to 
be  easily  cleaned,  since  housewifery  in  this 
region  is  less  conscientious  than  in  the 
North. 

In  certain  districts  families  are  large,  and 
the  plan  must  be  so  arranged  as  to  increase 
the  number  of  rooms.  In  other  localities  it 
is  indispensable  to  provide  a  flower  and 
vegetable  garden. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  types  of  working- 
men's  dwellings  actually  existing  are  numer- 
ous and  varied.  To  create  them,  associa- 
tions, industrial  proprietors  and  philanthro- 


WORKIXGMANS     DWELLING 


pists  have  devoted  tlieir  best  powers.  For 
a  long  time,  the  g-eneral  principle  observed 
was  the  grouping  of  tiie  individual  houses. 
Space  was  thus  economized,  as  well  as  the 
study  of  plans  and  tlic  expense  of  materials. 
The  small  dwellings,  exactly  similar,  placed 
side  by  side,  formed  a  block. 

Tliis  was  a  defective  system,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  tlie  flaw  became  evident.  If 
the  dwellings  were  individual  in  the  sense 
that  a  single  family  inhabited  each,  they 
lacked  individuality  in  that  each  one  pre- 
cisely resembled  its  neighbor.  No  one  had 
suspected  that  this  might  be  a  serious  fault. 
But  it  was  quickly  seen  that  The  absolute 
similarity  of  these  buildings  was  to  be  re- 
gretted, not  only  by  reason  of  their  non- 
adaptability  to  tlie  tastes  of  the  separate 
occupants,  but  also  and  above  all,  because 
this  similarity  destroyed  the  effect  of  rela- 
tive isolation  of  which  every  one  has  need, 
who  has  worked  all  daj',  surrounded  by  other 
individuals. 

This  defect  was  far  from  being  compen- 
sated by  economy  of  construction.  It  was 
necessary  to  provide  a  remed}'.  Purchasers 
were  therefore  jriven  their  choice  between 
two  or  three  types  of  buildings.  The  results 
were  excellent.  The  association  of  Passy- 
Auteuil  made  a  point  of  differentiating  their 
houses  to  however  slight  a  degree,  and  the 
"Societe  du  Nouveau  Persan,"  founded 
more  recently  at  Persan,  in  the  department 
of  Seine  et  Oise,  has  built  fourteen  houses 
presenting  great  (Hversity  of  type,  and 
varying  in  j)rice  from  .5,200  to  9.100 
francs,  purchasable  by  annual  payments 
composed  of  3.25  of  the  price,  for  rental, 
3.25  for  liquidation,  and  1.50  for  general 
expenses. 

But  the  best  system  j'ct  put  into  effect  is 


the  1)1)1(1  ami  very  successful  attempt  of  ^[. 
Leenliardt,  an  arcliitect  at  Montpellier.  In 
tiiat  city,  in  1901,  he  built  fourteen  houses, 
leaving  to  each  purchaser  the  liberty  of 
choosing  tlie  interior  arrangement  of  his 
dwelling.  Tiiis  is,  without  doubt,  a  scheme 
wliich  will  find  imitators. 

But  there  is  a  tendency  still  more  inter- 
esting, as  well  for  its  immediate  residts,  as 
for  its  possible  consequences.  This  is  the 
effort  to  make  the  dwelling  beautiful. 

Up  to  a  very  recent  point  of  time,  the 
general  defect  of  the  dwellings,  however 
practical  they  were,  was  that  they  had  been 
conceivefl  by  men  in  w^hom  the  desire  for 
economy — a  perfectly  legitimate  one — ex- 
cluded the  desire  for  beauty.  Aestlietic 
considerations  were  purposely  neglected. 
Tills  conception  was  necessarily  modified  by 
a  current  of  ideas  which  must  be  noted  here. 

The  apostle  of  the  princij)les  of  the  Con- 
vention, Danton,  said  of  education  that, 
after  bread,  it  was  the  first  necessity  of  man. 
In  recent  years,  under  the  influence  of  cer- 
tain enlightened  men,  the  consciousness  has 
arisen  that  if  knowledge  is  a  necessity,  it  is 
also  one  of  the  rights  of  man.  Society,  if  it 
imposes  duties  upon  the  individual,  also  con- 
tracts toward  liim  obligations,  the  first  of 
which  is  to  associate  liim  witli  the  general 
progress.  This  simple  idea,  as  soon  as 
formulated,  developed  rapidly.  An  im- 
portant movement  took  form  and,  in  all 
directions,  there  arose  associations  of  scien- 
tists, students,  thinkers,  whose  aim  was  to 
communicate  to  the  workingmen  the  knowl- 
edge which  they  themselves  had  ignored. 
Tliis  is  not  the  time  or  place  to  describe  in 
detail  tiie  interesting  movement  whose  result 
was  the  creation  of  the  People's  University, 
and  the  Societes  de  Conferences,  wliere,  anv 


373 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


evening  after  work,  tlic  artisan  may  rest  his 
bod^'  by  occupying  his  mind. 

Subsequently,  certain  men,  for  the  most 
I^art  artists,  conceived  and  developed  the 
idea  that  the  people  liave  the  right  not  only 
to  knowledge,  but  also,  and,  to  a  still  hiu'lier 
degree,  to  beauty.  To  socialize  science  is 
well,  but  beauty  also  demands  and  requires 
to  be  socialized. 

Up  to  a  recent  point  of  time,  the  j)rivi- 
legcd  few  could  alone  profit  by  efforts  made 
toward  the  ideal  of  artistic  beauty.  Art,  in 
all  its  forms,  was  reserved  for  this  class 
alone.  The  people  were  deprived  of  it.  In 
such  deprivation  lay  not  only  injustice,  but 
absolute  cruelty.  It  is  incontestable  that 
all  human  beings  have  need  of  casting  aside 
the  material  cares  of  existence,  of  raising 
the  soul  toward  the  Ideal,  and  of  refreshing 
it  at  that  source  of  pure  delight  which  is  the 
art-sensation.  It  is  so  true  that  this  need 
exists,  that,  in  all  countries,  among  all  peo- 
ples, and  under  all  forms  and  degrees  of  civ- 
ilization, we  find  artistic  efforts:  clothed,  it 
is  true,  in  a  wide  diversity  of  forms,  but 
resulting  from  an  analogous  need.  And 
the  heavier  the  cares  of  material  life,  the 
greater  the  needs  created  by  an  advanced 
civilization,  so  the  more  necessary  does  it 
become  to  allow  men  to  participate  in  efforts 
directed  toward  idcalit_y. 

The  enjoyment  afforded  by  beauty  is  no 
sterile  pleasure.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  the 
mother  of  intellectual  force  and  moral 
purity.  It  is  for  the  mind  all  that  rational 
athletics  are  for  the  body.  Too  long  and 
wrongfully  has  the  idea  been  current  that 
art  has  solely  for  its  aim  and  result  to  satisfy 
caprice  and  to  procure  pleasure.  To  argue 
that  its  only  effect  is  to  afford  enjoyment  is 
to  admit  that  it  contains  its  purpose  within 

374 


itself:  a  conclusion  both  inexact  and  unjust. 
It  has  an  end  and  purpose  more  complete 
and  less  abstract:  the  satisfaction  of  a  need. 
And  this  i^  so  true,  that  having  no  access  to 
the  manifestations  of  art  which  the  wealthy 
classes  reserved  for  themselves,  the  working- 
man  had  created  for  himself  pleasures  anal- 
ogous, but  within  the  I'each  of  his  purse  and 
intelligence,  and  which,  after  having  per- 
verted his  taste,  began  to  render  him  insensi- 
ble to  enjoyments  of  a  higher  order.  It  was 
necessary  to  react  with  energy  and  by  sep- 
arating beauty  from  the  plutocracy,  to 
grant  it  a  social  function.  Certain  men 
consecrated  themselves  to  tlie  cause  of  this 
vigorous  conception,  creating  thereby  one 
of  the  most  important  of  movements.  They 
dill  not  allow  themselves  to  be  repelled  by 
the  difficulties  and  discouragements  which 
assailed  them  at  the  beginning.  It  was 
indeed  a  difficult  task  to  determine  those  who 
devote  themselves  to  art  in  its  various  forms, 
to  work  for  the  people,  to  popularize  their 
productions.  But  this  difficulty  was  as 
notiiing  in  comparison  with  those  presented 
by  the  deplorable  taste  which  had  taken  root 
in  the  brain  of  the  workingman.  Many 
among  the  most  ardent  ])romoters  of  the 
movement,  discouraged  at  last,  abandoned 
their  efforts.  But  an  idea  of  this  order  is 
always  fertile.  It  did  not  fail  to  bear 
abundant  fruit. 

After  a  few  trial  attempts,  the  principal 
effort  was  directed  toward  that  which  imme- 
diately influences  the  workingman:  that  is 
his  material  surroundings — his  house  and 
his  furniture.  Such,  in  reality,  is  the  most 
effective  means  of  action.  It  is  thus  that  it 
will  be  possible,  by  popularizing  the  good 
and  the  true,  to  effect  the  aesthetic  education 
of  the  people,  to  expel  from  their  minds  the 


WORKIXCiMAXS    DWELLING 


taste  for  false  luxury-,  for  pretended  ele- 
gance, which  is  the  opposite  and  the  enemy 
of  the  beautiful,  and  which  too  long  has  been 
dominant. 

The  effort  just  described  was  counte- 
nanced by  that  contemporaneous  conception 
of  art  which,  returning  to  pure  principles 
long  abandoned  and  forgotten,  recognizes 
that  art  resides  in  harmony,  and  not  in 
brilliancy  and  richness ;  in  the  purity  of 
lines,  and  their  adaptation,  as  adequate  as 
may  be,  to  the  object  to  be  attained,  and  not 
in  ornament  more  or  less  successful.  The 
respect  for  line,  the  adaptation  of  form  to 
the  desired  purpose  and  to  the  nature  of  the 
materials  employed:  such  is  the  fornmla 
which  the  modern  architect  should  adopt  as 
his  working  basis.  Beauty,  far  from  being 
the  opponent  of  simplicity,  is  often  its  im- 
mediate resultant.  To  employ  solid  but 
economical  materials,  to  derive  from  their 
judicious  use  and  arrangement  a  pleasing, 
beautiful  effect :  such  is  the  purpose  estab- 
lished by  those  of  the  modern  architects 
whose  intelligence  is  adequately  developed. 

By  combining  the  practice  of  these  prin- 
ciples with  the  progress  of  industry,  build- 
ers have  succeeded,  as  was  inevitable,  in  pro- 
ducing the  beautiful  and  the  inexpensive. 
At  the  Universal  Exposition  of  1900,  where, 
in  the  Annex  of  \'incennes,  the  most  varying 
types  of  workingmen's  dwellings  were 
shown,  but  especially  at  a  recent  special 
exposition,  where  examples  of  dwellings 
proposed  or  actually'  built,  were  seen,  re- 
produced in  photographs,  described  by 
plans,  or  even  executed,  one  could  judge  of 
the  results  thus  far  attained.  I'hese  results 
testify  to  an  already  successful  effort,  as 
they  also  announce  a  still  farther  advance. 

Certainly  perfection  is  still  distant  and 


progress  is  necessary'.  But  an  important 
step  has  alreaily  been  taken  toward  ttie  solu- 
tion of  the  question  thus  rationally  pro- 
posed. It  is  just  to  state  that  the  principles 
adopted  by  builders  are,  for  the  most  part, 
sound  and  reasonable.  The  materials  em- 
ploj-ed  are  simple  in  nature  and  few  in  num- 
ber. Whatever  they  may  be,  they  are  ap- 
parent, show  themselves  frankly,  and  do 
not  mas(juu  tliemselves  beneath  a  coating  of 
plaster  or  other  falsifying  substance.  The 
arrangement  and  form  of  the  openings — 
doors  and  windows — the  roof-line,  and 
otlier  details  of  construction,  intelligently 
treated,  afford  the  onl}'  decoration  required. 
A  certain  architect  at  the  last  exposition 
presented  a  most  interesting  house  which,  if 
one  can  reach — as  it  is  possible  to  do — -a 
strict  economy  in  construction,  will  servo  as 
a  model, — at  least  in  principle — for  builders 
of  workingmen's  dwellings.  It  is  con- 
structed entireh'  of  white  brick.  The  fa^'ade 
is  agreeably  accented  by  a  large  round- 
arched  ba}-  and  two  small  windows.  The 
projecting  roof  is  at  once  elegant  and  ra- 
tional— since  it  permits  the  immediate  dis- 
charge of  rain-water.  In  the  interior,  a 
large  room  occupies  the  entire  height  of  the 
house,  of  which  it  claims  nearly  two-thirds 
the  space  in  breadth.  In  this  living  room, 
the  occupants  take  their  meals,  meet  togeth- 
er, and  entertain  their  friends.  Very  well 
lighted  and  ventilated,  it  is  cheerful  and 
comfortable.  The  kitchen  is  at  one  side. 
One  of  the  angles  of  the  room  is  pierced  by 
a  wooden  staircase  which  leads  to  a  corridor 
giving  access  to  the  bedrooms,  the  windows 
of  which  open  uj)on  the  side  opposite  to  that 
which  is  cut  by  the  bay  of  the  living  room. 
This  arrangement  is  comfortable  and  home- 
like. 

37S 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


But  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  restrict 
examination  to  exhibitions,  in  order  to  find 
working-men's  dwellings  planned  in  ac- 
cordance witli  the  most  advanced  and  ra- 
tional formulas.  Among  the  recently  built 
houses  of  this  class,  there  are  very  interest- 
ing specimens ;  notably  those  of  M.  Leen- 
hardt  at  Montpellier. 

This  architect  we  have  already  mentioned 
as  one  who,  in   1900-1901,  built  fourteen 
houses,  with  this  distinctive  point:  that  he 
o-ave  each   purchaser  the   right  to   choose, 
under  his  own  supervision,  the  interior  ar- 
rangement which  best  pleased  him.      These 
houses,  whether  detached  or  grouped,   are 
situated  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  thus 
having  a  hold  upon  both  town  and  country, 
and  standing  upon  elevated  ground.      The 
walls  are  built  of  the  gray,  mottled  stone  of 
the  region,  without  exterior  coating  ;  so  that 
the   structural   material   remains   agreeably 
apparent  to  the  eye.      The  decoration  con- 
sists princij)ally  in  the  effect  produced  by 
the  projections  of  the  variegated  stones  set 
with   "raked-out"   joints,   and   also   in   the 
color.      The  ornamental  features  are  com- 
pleted bv   a  band  of  cement  marked  with 
moldings,  uji  to  which  reach  all  the  windows 
of  the  first  story.      The  roof,   projecting, 
tiled,  having  apparent  rafters  and  ironwork, 
and    provided   with    an   eaves-trough,    sur- 
mounts the  whole  with  strong,  simple  and 
beautiful    effect.      The    woodwork,    treated 
only   with   boiling   water,   has   retained   its 
natural  color.    The  ironwork,  simply  black- 
ened, projects  vigorously  from  a  light  back- 
ground.     The    interior    staircases    are    in 
stone, — since  wood  is  little  used  in  the  South 
— and  have  iron  balusters,  with  a  handrail 
of  walnut.   The  whole  has  a  charming  effect. 


is  solidly  constructed,  and  is  reasonable  in 
price  (5,100  to  8,000  francs). 

Thus  the  advance  made  in  several  years 
has  been  considerable;  it  has  followed  a  con- 
stant direction,  owing  to  the  efforts  of  those 
who  are  interested  in  the  work,  owing  also 
to  the  skill  of  certain  architects  who  devote 
themselves  to  it. 

It  has  seemed  advisable  to  ask  the  opinion 
upon  this  question  of  a  most  skilful  archi- 
tect, whose  mind  is  particularly  open  to  new 
ideas  and  to  interesting  artistic  efforts:  M. 
Louis  Bonnier. 

"It  is  necessary  above  all,"  he  said,  "to 
interest  the  workingman  in  his  dwelling,  and 
for  that  reason  to  give  to  the  construction 
an  aerceable  effect;  but,  at  the  same  time, 
to  avoid  all  ornament  which  is  useless :  that 
is  to  say,  without  practical  utility.  Indeed, 
there  must  be  nothing  which  does  not  serve 
a  well-defined  purpose.  Every  ornament 
which  serves  no  structural  end  is  an  expense 
incurred  to  the  injury  of  comfort.  One 
must  build  to  produce  the  simple  and  the 
comfortable.  Furthermore,  the  artistic  im- 
pression gains  more  from  simplicity  well 
understood,  than  from  ornament  more  or 
less  successful. 

"Certainly  it  is  impossible  to  establish 
absolute  rules.  Construction  must  vary 
according  to  the  climate,  to  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  people,  and  to  the  materials 
found  in  the  region,  which  should  always 
have  the  preference. 

"Still,  the  tastes  of  the  inhabitants  should 
not  be  absolutely  respected,  since  it  is  neces- 
sary to  educate  the  masses  in  an  artistic 
sense,  and  there  is  no  better  means  of  ac- 
complishing this  purpose,  than  to  approach 
the  people  on  the  side  of  their  interest,  by 
offering  them  comfortable  and  inexpensive 


376 


AVOKKIX(;.MAXS   DWELLING 


dwellings.  Therefore,  the  house  must  be 
in  keeping  with  the  chnnicter  and  aspect  of 
the  region,  but  it  must  also  be  modified  by 
the  taste  and  judgment  of  the  builder. 

"From  the  practical  point  of  view  tlie 
walls  must  be  as  thick  as  possible.  Between 
two  combinations  of  equal  price,  that  one 
should  be  chosen  which  will  permit  the 
thicker  walls.  For  example,  a  wall  0.22 
centimeter  thick,  in  brick,  costing  as  much 
as  a  wall  O.-IO  thick,  in  rubble,  should  be 
rejected  in  favor  of  the  stone.  Indeed,  the 
thick  wall  gives,  both  summer  and  winter,  a 
temperature  opposite  from  that  of  the  ex- 
terior ;  thus  representing  in  winter  an  im- 
portant saving  of  coal. 

"The  house  should  be  carefully  isolated 
from  the  soil,  and  the  windows  of  different 
dimensions,  according  to  the  size  of  the 
room  to  be  ventilated,  and  also  according  to 
the  point  of  compass  and  the  view. 

"The  interior  should  contain  a  large  room 
in  which  the  cooking  is  done.  This  kitchen 
should  occupy  a  considerable  part  of  the 
house.  I'he  small  bed-rooms  are  more  easily 
ventilated.  The  walls  may  be  tinted  in 
colors  calculated  to  influence  happily  the 
taste  of  the  workingman. 

"It  is  well  to  give  each  individual  a  house 
which  differs  in  some  slight  degree  from 
that  of  his  neighbor.  But  it  is  costly  to 
differentiate  too  markedly.  A  simple  and 
practical  means,  is  to  assure  the  individual- 
ity of  one  of  these  houses  by  different 
groupings,  by  a  reversion  of  arrangement : 
both  of  which  devices  allow  the  use  of  the 
same  materials,  without  such  similarity  be- 
coming too  apparent." 

Such  is  the  Workingman's  Dwelling  as 
devised  by  ^I.  Bonnier,  who  has  himself 
built  a  small  house  of  attractive  appearance, 


the  elegance  of  which  results  from  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  roof,  from  the  careful  use 
of  the  mill-stone  of  the  district,  as  well  as 
of  small  brick  arches  which  are  not  satisfied 
to  adorn,  but  which  play  a  practical  part  in 
the  structural  scheme.  Tims,  for  -1, 000 
francs,  this  architect  has  been  able  to  build 
a  house  including  four  rooms,  with  the 
additions  of  a  stable  and  a  carriage  reposi- 
tory. 

So,  from  timid  beginnings,  constant  ef- 
forts and  a  great  display'  of  energy  upon 
one  side,  and  artistic  taste  upon  the  otlier, 
the  formula  of  construction  for  the  work- 
ingman's dwelling  seems  to  have  been 
evolved.  Simple  and  apparent  structural 
materials,  no  applied,  and,  therefore,  use- 
less ornament,  the  exact  adaptation  of  form 
to  purpose:  such  are  the  factors  of  this 
formula.  The  required  and  desirable  beauty 
will  result  inevitably  from  the  skilful  ar- 
rangement of  the  functional  parts  which 
have  been  happily  conceived. 


IN  feudal  times  there  were  tolls  upon 
everything.  A  high  civilization  abol- 
ishes tolls  and  furnishes  the  necessaries 
of  life  to  all  equally.  Now  air,  light,  roads 
and  water  stand  on  a  different  footing  from 
food  and  clothes.  Food  and  clothing  are 
produced  in  separate  pieces,  are  infinitely 
varied,  and  are  adapted  to  an  infinite  variety 
of  personal  wants  and  tastes.  Air,  light, 
water  passage  (in  their  ])uiilic  and  collective 
use)  have  not  this  character:  and  their  pub- 
lic use  should  be  free  to  all  citizens. 

FIlEDEItlr    HARRISON TIIK    IDKAI,    CITY 


377 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


THE  LATEST  CERAMIC  PRODUCTS 
OF  SEVRES 

Tlie  following  article,  printed  in  the 
French  magazine,  "Art  ct  Decoration,"  for 
November,  1904^,  is  partially  reproduced  in 
English.  It  offers  intei'est  as  a  proof  of 
the  force  and  pervasiveness  of  the  new  art 
movement  wiiich  has  seized  and  possesses  one 
of  the  firmest  strongholds  of  tradition.  The 
illustrations,  selected  from  a  large  number 
shown  in  the  French  article,  if  unaccom- 
panied by  the  text,  would  fail  to  be  recog- 
nized as  to  their  origin  bj'  those  who  are 
familiar  with  the  historical  products  of  the 
Sevres  manufactorv. 


IT  is  now  three  years  since  the  close 
of  the  Universal  Exposition  of  1900, 
which  marked  a  distinct  technical  and 
artistic  progress  in  the  work  of  the 
Sevres  manufactory.  This  result  was  the 
fruit  of  pi'olonged  efforts,  pursued  now  in 
this,  and  now  in  that  direction,  but  with  a 
success  which,  although  varying,  seemed  to 
prove  that  an  institution  already  very  old, 
had  still  within  it  germs  of  vitality. 

The  effects  of  these  sustained  efforts  were 
seen  in  1900 ;  so  that  Sevres,  having  modi- 
fied its  work,  appeared,  even  to  its  worst  de- 
tractors, to  have  entered  into  a  second 
youth. 

Perfection  had  not  been  reached  in  the 
new  work,  and  there  were  yet  many  points 
open  to  criticism  ;  but  it  was  evident  that  the 
State  establishment  had  broken  with  the 
traditions  of  works  which  might  be  classed 
as  official  and  puerile:  that  is,  the  small 
coffee-cups   in    king's   blue,   and   the   vases 

878 


destined  for  gifts  to  the  Ministers  and  the 
President  of  the  Republic. 

It  has  been  said  somewhat  maliciously 
that  if  the  royal  manufactory  of  Copen- 
hagen had  not  shown  its  porcelains  in  1889, 
the  exhibit  of  the  Sevres  manufactory  of 
1900  could  not  have  been  made.  This  is  a 
statement  without  basis;  for  in  full  justice 
to  the  recent  accomplishments  and  the  pres- 
ent work  of  the  Danish  manufactorj',  it  may 
be  said  that  these  products  are  good,  not  for 
the  reason  that  they  were  made  in  Copen- 
hagen, but  because  they  are  specimens  of  a 
modern  and  vitalized  art ;  because  this  estab- 
lishment, instead  of  producing  pieces  of  a 
superannuated  style,  devoted  itself  to  the 
decoration  of  porcelain  in  accordance  with 
the  artistic  tendencies  of  the  nineteenth 
century. 

At  the  moment  when  the  Sevres  manufac- 
tory broke  with  official  and  stupid  tradi- 
tions, and  with  errors  resulting  from  a 
fault}'  organization,  it  was  fitted,  owing  to 
the  laboratories  and  workshops  which  it  pos- 
sessed, to  enter  upon  experiments  much  more 
significant  than  those  lying  within  the  pos- 
sibilities of  other  establishments. 

It  can  not  be  said  that  works  such  as  those 
produced  at  Copenhagen  have  been  without 
influence  upon  the  experiments  at  Sevres ; 
but  tliis  influence  proceeds  less  from  Copen- 
hagen, considered  in  itself,  than  from  the 
principles  of  which  this  manufactory,  for  a 
brief  space,  was  one  of  the  few  worthy  rep- 
resentatives. Therefore,  fi'om  the  time 
when  Sevres  acknowledged  these  principles, 
it  was  able  to  apply  them  with  greater  pre- 
cision and  immediately  to  create  works, 
which  by  beauty  of  substance,  richness  of 
decoration,  perfection  of  workmanship,  can 
be    classed    with    the    ceramic    masterpieces 


CERAMIC    PRODUCTS 


produced  at  Sevres  durin<^  the  eigliteentli 
century',  wliose  claim  to  merit  lies  in  the  fact 
that  they  belong  absolutely  to  their  period : 
representing  it  faithfully  in  both  defects 
and  qualities.  The  same  can  not  be  said 
of  the  works  which  issued  from  the  manu- 
factory during  the  greater  part  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  The  latter  indicated  noth- 
ing, not  even  the  taste  of  the  period  of  tlieir 
birth :  for,  from  the  artistic  point  of  view, 
they  were  always  behind  their  time.  They 
were  types  of  those  works  to  which  the  title 
of  official  or  governmental  can  be  justly  ap- 
plied. They  represented  routine  rather 
than  art.  As  the  products  of  administra- 
tors who  seemed  much  less  interested  in  their 
art  than  in  gaining  their  rights  to  retire- 
ment and  pension,  they  cast  reproach  and 
discredit  upon  an  establishment,  which,  by 
virtue  of  the  scientific  researches  there  pur- 
sued, ranks  as  the  first  porcelain  manufac- 
tory of  the  world. 

To-day,  we  find  altogether  different  con- 
ditions. Sevres  is  no  longer  an  isolated 
place  of  activity.  It  is  friendly  to  all  inno- 
vations, to  all  experiments.  In  this  old 
home  of  tradition,  Cros  has  recently  worked 
at  his  glass  pastes,  and  Thesmar  at  his  cloi- 
sonne enameled  upon  soft  paste.  Porcelain 
has  been  set  aside  for  gres;  sculptors  of  all 
styles  furnish  models  for  biscuit  ware,  and, 
indeed,  in  all  that  concerns  modern  ceramic 
art,  there  are  few  experiments  that  have  not 
been  made  at  Sevres. 

If,  then,  the  products  of  the  manufactory 
are  not  always  above  reproach,  one  can  no 
longer,  with  justice,  as  would  have  been  the 
case  twenty  years  since,  blame  the  manufac- 
tory itself,  but  rather  the  times  in  which  we 
live.  Sevres  participates  in  the  movement 
which  forces  art  into  new  paths,  and  if  one 


criticises  tlie  manufactory  itself,  one  can  ex- 
tend the  judgment  in  a  general  way  to  mod- 
ern art,  which  the  products  of  Sevres  thor- 
oughly represent ;  since  the  defects  found  in 
these  ceramics  are  faults  common  to  all  con- 
temporaneous works.  This  fact  should 
please  us,  as  it  argues  well  for  the  future  of 
the  institution :  indicatino-  ih:d   it   is  thor- 


I'orcelain  vase  by  .M.  Liulili  iii 


379 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


oughly  vitalized  and  that  it  is  obedient  to 
the  evolution  of  art.  It  is  praiseworthy  for 
such  an  institution  not  to  arrest  its  own  de- 
velopment ;  to  open  wide  its  doors  to  artists 
who  are  not  marshalled  in  the  forces  of  the 
manufactory,  and  to  give  these  artists  the 
power  to  translate  their  thought  into  reality 
through  tlie  aid  of  processes  elaborated  in  a 
scientific    laboratory    unique    of    its    kind; 


1  4;jif*J!.^»J(-;«i^-.-3 


:| 


Terminal  statue.  Winter,  for  open-air  decoration, 
execnted  in  lira's:  Henri  Cros 


through  the  aid  also  of  hands  exquisitely 
skilful.  Such  indeed  are  the  true  functions 
of  a  State  establishment. 

As  in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  manu- 
factory of  Sevres  does  not  to-daj'  derive  its 
models  from  a  single  official  artist  or  even  a 
small  group  of  designers.  It  pursues  a 
broader  policj-  and  whenever  a  sculptor  pre- 
sents a  model  adapted  to  execution  in  cer- 
amics, he  is  sure  to  be  well  received. 

The  manufactory  is  sometimes  criticised 
for  producing  pieces  other  than  duplicates 
of  those  which  were  made  for  Pomjjadour  or 
Du  Barry.  At  the  present  time  it  would 
not  be  difficult  for  the  Sevres  establishment, 
with  its  great  scientific  resources,  to  effect 
such  reproductions,  since  private  industries 
sometimes  successfully  accomplish  the  same 
ungrateful  task.  But  if  this  policy  were 
followed,  the  same  reproach  would  be  made 
as  that  which  is  often  addressed  to  the  royal 
Dresden  manufactory :  namely,  that  of  de- 
basing, by  copies  more  or  less  perfect,  the 
old  pieces  produced  in  the  eighteenth  cent- 
ury. But  the  day  when  Sevres  should  en- 
gage in  such  a  policy  ought  to  be  the  last 
one  of  its  existence. 

Instead,  the  manufactory  lives,  and  al- 
though sometimes  producing  questionable 
works,  it  shows  that  it  has  left  the  beaten 
path  of  old  ideas  to  follow  the  call  of  mod- 
ern influences. 

Up  to  the  most  recent  years,  the  produc- 
tion of  biscuit  ware  at  Se\Tes  was  almost  en- 
tirely limited  to  the  rendering  of  certain  old 
models, — some  of  them  good,  the  others 
verging  upon  mediocrity.  The  really  fine 
models  preserved  in  the  IMuseum  were  often 
neglected,  because  much  time  and  money 
would  have  been  required  to  re-establish 
their  production.      The  sj'stem  of  repetition 


380 


CERAMIC    rUODUCTS 


has  now  been  largely  abandoned,  except  in 
the  case  of  certain  stanilard  pieces  which 
will  probably  continue  to  be  made,  as  long 
as  the  nianufactorj-  shall  exist. 

Since  Sevres  has  begun  to  produce  mod- 
ern examples  of  biscuit,  it  has  been  success- 
ful in  most  cases ;  while  certain  new  models, 
such  as  the  dancing  figures  of  Leonard, 
have  made  a  most  deserved  reputation.  This 
success  has  not  been  arrested  on  the  way,  for, 
if  one  examines  the  productions  of  the  years 
1900-1903,  one  reaches  the  conclusion  that 
a  number  of  the  models  have  been  well 
chosen ;  that  other  large  pieces  of  sculpture 
which  promised  only  indifferent  results, 
have  singularly  gained  by  reproduction, 
and  above  all  by  translation  into  a  substance 
which  refines  the  model  and  gives  it  a  cer- 
tain cultured  grace.  The  future  of  this 
ware  promises  well,  as  the  establishment  has 
gained  the  approval  of  the  French  sculp- 
tors, and,  therefore,  it  will  not  fail  to  receive 
models. 

Furthermore,  it  has  at  its  disposition  not 
only  contemporaneous  works,  but  also  sculp- 
tures which  are  relatively  old;  as,  for  ex- 
ample, from  the  work  of  Carpeaux  excellent 
models  are  now  drawn,  with  a  reserve  of 
many  more  equally  excellent. 

Another  innovation,  relative  to  pedestals 
for  the  supjJort  of  vases,  or  biscuit  figures, 
has  recently  been  made  at  Sevres.  Under 
the  old  system,  such  pieces  almost  invariablj- 
consisted  of  bases  in  king's  blue,  or  shafts 
of  columns  accompanied  by  more  or  less 
elaborate  moldings.  But  recently  M.  Guil- 
lot  has  furnished  four  different  models  of 
consoles  which  promise  to  be  very  service- 
able. These,  by  their  proportions  and  va- 
ried types,  are  adapted  to  different  uses :  a 
head  of  a  smiling  woman,   surrounded  by 


braids  of  hair,  forms  a  support  for  a  vase  of 
wide  expansion;  a  similar  use  is  suggested 
by  the  figure  of  a  child  wlio  appears  to  be 
struggling  to  sustain  a  heavy  burden. 
Lighter,  more  delicate  works  will  find  a 
support  in  consoles  ornamented  by  female 
figures,  projected  upon  backgrounds  of 
foliage.      These  figures  are  graceful  mod- 


/;v 


{    \ 


Terminal  si.i'      .  -        n         :    r     i  .  n-air  ilfcnrHtion. 
execulcil  in  (/r^s;  HiMiri  C'ros 


381 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


ern  caryatides  wliosc  licavv  hips  recall  the 
innovations  in  sculpture  made  by  Carpcaux, 
who  dared  to  represent  women  as  they  are, 
and  not  as  they  appear  in  academic  draw- 
ings, or  in  cold,  greco-ronian  statues  which 
are  the  parallels  of  these. 

Sevres  has  produced  bears,  dogs,  cats, 
birds  and,  lastly,  the  pigs  of  M.  Cordier. 
Such  models  provoke  the  question  why  these 


I'.hiirsy 


animals  have  hitherto  been  despised  by 
sculptors,  who  have  limited  themselves  to  a 
mere  sketch  of  the  wild  boar.  The  domestic 
pig  is  certainly  interesting  in  both  form  and 
movement,  and  it  is  not  his  fault  if  man  has 
applied  an  evil  sense  to  his  name.  He  is 
very  interesting  in  his  attitudes  and  action, 
which  reveal  an  animal  capable  of  develop- 
ment, if  he  were  confided  to  persons  more 
intelligent  than  his  usual  keepers.  It  re- 
mains for  art  as  well  as  for  pork-butchers 
to  rehabilitate  the  pig,  and  for  the  former 
to  sweep  away  the  foolish  prejudice  which 
has  heretofore  admitted  him  to  her  province, 
only  upon  condition  that  he  was  wild  and 
dressed  in  bristles  which  spoiled  the  effect  of 
his  anatomy. 

But  the  Sevres  biscuit  ware  is  not  con- 
fined to  representations  of  animals,  single 
or  in  groups.  It  is  found  in  busts  ap- 
proaching the  natural  size  of  human  heads. 
Among  these,  several  charming  models  must 
l)e  mentioned,  as,  for  example,  "Love,"  by 
Leonard,  f(n"  which  some  sprite  or  valkyr  of 
tlie  fountain  in  the  Rue  de  Grenelle  would 
seem  to  have  posed.  This  work  is  exquisite 
and  altogether  worthy  of  Sevres.  A  bust 
of  a  little  boy  by  Houssin  is  equally  delicate 
in  modeling,  but  the  artist  has  hesitated  in 
face  of  certain  details :  as,  for  instance,  the 
hair,  which  he  might  have  rendered  more 
minutely,  while  retaining  a  breadth  of  treat- 
ment peculiar  to  the  ceramic  art.  Masters 
such  as  Houdon,  and  before  him  the  sculp- 
tors of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries, 
did  not  fear  to  admit  such  details  and  to 
translate  them  with  scrupulous  precision. 
But  they  did  not  therefore  fall  into  dryness 
and  triviality.  This  is  a  criticism  of  small 
points,  but  they  are  still  points  of  value. 
Biscuit  ware,  like  marble,  demands  of  the 


CERAMIC    rilODUCTS 


artist  that  he  shall  not  mass  too  freely.  A 
work  of  sculpture  is  not  a  sketch,  and  this 
fact  is  ignored  to-daj-  bj'  certain  sculptors 
who  allow  workmen  to  translate  literally  into 
marble  a  rough  draft  in  claj'  or  wax. 

Expressly  for  Sevres,  M.  Larche  has  ex- 
ecuted a  centerpiece  indicative  of  thought 
and  talent.  He  has  grouped  about  a  fe- 
male figure,  symbolizing  the  year,  other 
graceful  and  smaller  forms  tj'pifj'ing  the 
seasons ;  while  children,  whose  faces  cluster 
about  the  central  figure,  represent  the  days. 

The  conception  is  a  happy  one,  and,  taken 
separately,  each  one  of  the  figures  has  real 
merit.  The  whole  result  is  less  satisfying, 
when  the  figures  are  assembled  and  grouped, 
by  reason  of  a  very  apparent  fault  of  scale ; 
the  central  figure  being  too  small  for  the 
length  of  base.  In  this  fact  lies  a  serious 
error  in  architecture,  and  even  in  sculpture : 
for  in  attempting  to  group  figures,  the  art- 
ist falls  under  fixed  laws  of  proportion. 

Still  farther  in  the  series  of  biscuit  pieces, 
SevTes  has  issued  a  large  class  of  statuettes, 
among  which  may  be  mentioned  "Disdain,'" 
by  Riviere,  whose  "Phryne"  is  so  popular 
in  reproduction ;  "Pierrot,"  by  Puech ; 
"Ecstasy,"  by  Saint-Marceaux,  and  "Palm 
Sunday,"  by  Laporte-Blairsy.  This  last, 
the  figure  of  a  Brittany  peasant,  draped  in 
her  mantle,  is,  plainly,  more  refined  than  the 
original,  but  this  departure  from  the  truth 
of  Nature  is  admissible,  since  delicacy  is  a 
requisite  of  work  in  biscuit. 

Sculpture  in  large,  as  well  as  in  minia- 
ture, is  now  activelj'  pursued  at  Se%Tes,  but 
only  in  the  medium  of  gres.  The  manufac- 
tory has  just  completed  a  series  of  figures  in 
this  material,  executed  by  Dubois  for  the 
tomb  of  La  Moriciere ;  it  reproduces  colossal 
figures  of  Boucher,  which  have  many  times 


been  sculptured  in  marble;  it  even  sends  out 
original  works,  and  Henri  Cros,  known  for 
liis  experiments  in  glass  pastes,  has  just 
modeled  four  terminal  statues,  the  seasons, 
in  fine  half-antique,  half-modern  style,  re- 
plete with  that  indefinable  charm  which  is 
peculiar  to  him.  The  eff'ect  of  these  works, 
standing  in  the  shade  of  a  park,  would  be 
admirable:  their  light  bronze  color  would 
unite  admirabU'  with  the  hues  of  verdure 
and  flowers.  In  the  direction  of  sculpture, 
the  manuf  actor}-  enters  upon  a  new  path : 
since  it  competes  with  marble,  bronze,  stone, 
and  lead, — the  only  materials,  which,  up  to 
the  present  time,  if  one  except  the  works  of 
the  della  Robbia  and  Paliss}', — have  been 


Porcelain  vnso.  >>>•  M.  Viuin-t  lui'i  .'in',  iuuilt 


S8S 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


permitted  to  provide  open-air  decorative 
sclienies. 

Interior  decoration  also  receives  attention 
at  the  manufactory,  wliicli  has  just  sent  out 
four  large  panels,  executed  for  the  Palais- 
Bourbon. 

Thus  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  institution 
is  dead,  nor  even  that  it  sleeps.  It  is  simply 
following  the  evolutionary  process  mani- 
fested in  every  liiniian  being. 

If  we  cast  a  glance  at  the  porcelains 
proper,  we  find  them  equally  encouraging, 
and  the  manufactory  has  no  reason  to  regret 
either  the  administration  of  i\I.  Baumgart, 
or  the  ai-tistic  and  scientific  supervision  of 
M.  Sandier  and  i\I.  ^'ogt.  Under  this  triple 
govermneiit,  the  improvements  ah'eady  so 
marked  in  1900,  continue  to  progress. 

In  1900,  the  critics,  although  recogniz- 


ing, as  was  just,  the  great  advance  made  by 
the  manufactory  in  the  direction  of  modern 
art.  cast  blame  upon  its  somewhat  pale  color- 
system.  If  this  style,  which  may  be  named 
chlorotic,  and  which  is  not  native,  but  rather 
due  to  foreign  influence — notably  the  Eng- 
lish influence — was  able  for  a  time  to  de- 
liffiit  art  lovers,  for  whom  vigor  and  ro- 
bustness  appeared  then  almost  vulgar,  the 
pervasive  blanching  and  degeneracy  have 
brought  about  distaste  and  fatigue.  Such 
glorification  of  an  optical  disease — for  dis- 
ease it  certainly  is — could  not  last,  and  the 
national  preference  has  returned  for  the 
stronger  colors  permitted  by  the  atmosphere 
of  France  which,  thank  God.  is  not  always 
veiled  with  vapors  and  fog.  Sevres  has 
followed  this  movement ;  so  that  richer  and 
more  vigorous  tones,  better  adapted  to  cei*- 
amic  decoration,  appear  in  delicate  touches 
upon  its  vases.  This  is  not  to  say  that 
tones  as  rich  as  are  supported  by  faience, 
can  be  given  to  porcelain,  but  there  .still  re- 
mains between  brilliant  color-notes  and  dead 
or  dying  tones,  a  happy  medium  that  the 
Sevres  ceramists  are  upon  the  point  of  at- 
taining. 

As  to  form  the  vases  are  generally  good. 
A  restriction  to  this  statement  may  be 
made  in  the  case  of  an  ambitious  attempt  of 
^I.  Guimard,  who  shows  a  tendency  toward 
the  horril)le  "modern  style,"  now  at  the 
point  of  death,  in  spite  of  the  eflports  of 
certain  artists  who  would  have  done  better 
to  devote  their  real  talents  to  the  study  of 
nature,  rather  than  to  the  bones  of  horses ; 
for  such  remembrances  are  called  to  mind 
bv  erroining's  and  branches  which  lead  to 
nothing  and  fill  no  architectural  purpose ; 
which  disturb  the  eye  and  spoil  the  simple 
contours  upon  which  they  are  superposed. 


384- 


CERAMIC   PKODUCTS 


But,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  well  for  Sevres  to 
have  given  liospitality  to  several  specimens 
of  this  species.  It  was  necessary  to  make 
the  experiment,  and  the  result  shows  better 
than  any  argument  could  do,  how  freely  the 
manufactory  is  open  to  all  influences  of 
progress,  all  manifestations  of  modern  art, 
and  how  absolutely  it  has  cast  aside  the  tra- 
ditions of  more  than  two  centuries. 


WITH  the  aid  of  the  municipal  au- 
thorities of  Paris,  a  group  of 
artists  and  savants  have  recently 
founded  a  so-called  Academy'  of  the  Art  of 
the  Flower  and  the  Plant,  to  which  has  been 
assigned  a  large  area  in  the  floricultural 
establishment  of  the  city. 

The  purpose  of  the  Academy  is  to  assem- 
ble in  this  beautiful  environment  of  plants 
all  divisions  of  artists  who  derive  their  in- 
spiration from  the  vegetable  kingdom. 
Such  are : 

I.  Imitators  (painters,  sculptors,  designers, 

florists,  botanists)  ; 

II.  Interpreters   (designers  and  decorators 
of  all  kinds). 

Bv  this  means  the  Academy  expects  to 
create  a  special  artistic  center,  enthusiastic 
and  prolific,  whose  results  may  be  happy 
equally  for  the  artists  themselves  and  for 
the  development  of  their  art. 

The  active  members  of  the  Academy  are 
divided  into  three  classes : 

I.  Masters,  or  titular  members ; 

II.  Adjunct  members  and  unclassified  stu- 
dents ; 

III.  Pupils. 

The  masters  are  artists  or  scientists  of 
authoritative  talent  and  reputation, each  one 


of  whom  must,  wiicn  summoned  by  the  char- 
ter nu'inbors,  present  to  tlie  nniseiun  or  the 
library  one  or  several  works  representative 
of  his  capacity  and  skill. 

This  group  constitutes  the  Academy 
proper. 

The  members  assemble  at  stated  periods, 
to  study  (juestions  relative  to  the  arts  in- 
volving the  plant.  A  bulletin  will  also  be 
issued  to  record  antl  extend  the  work  of  the 
Academy. 

A  system  of  instruction  has  been  ar- 
ranged, which  is  materially  aided  by  the 
floral  riches  of  the  municipal  establishment 
and  by  the  valuable  museum  and  library. 
The  instruction  is  advanced  and  is  offered 
only  to  students  of  solid  artistic  education. 

The  lectures  are  given  preferably  upon 
Sundaj'  and  are  open  to  the  public. 


iji£^f3 

HfflW^&lH 

^^H 

'                                     '  Jrn\M 

..'A^iA     /A     ill 

K,  T^/ui 

i  'KyA'^^m 

A^ 

.    A    J 

A| 

B 

1              ^  1 

^             m 

,.   --^          -«r^ 

rorciliiiii  vasi-  liy  M.  I'llmlii-  »ii'l  Miiir 

hiToilX 

385 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


SEITEI  WATANABE. 
NOGUCHI 


BY     YONE 


THE  modern  Japan   found  a  satis- 
factory expression  of  art  in  Seitei 
Watanabe.      Tlie    imagination    of 
Japan    has    been    growing    wider 
and  wider  under  tlie  influence  of  Western 


You  will  find  here  and  there  in  Watanabe 
the  sure  trace  of  a  certain  classic  school ;  a 
graceful  solitariness,  like  that  of  Tosa ;  a 
far  away  imaginativeness,  like  that  of 
Kano ;  the  memory,  as  it  were,  of  an  old 
lover,  which  w'ill  not  be  put  aside.  Again, 
in  Watanabe,  the  old  conventionalism  turns 
delightfully  into  a  hint  of  dignity,  and  un- 
intelligible sj-mbolism  into  deep  poetry. 
This  artist  would  keep  the  essence  of  each 
school  for  his  own  use.  Basho  Matsuo,  the 
great  Japanese  poet,  once  compared  the 
poets  and  artists  to  a  beggar's  bag,  because 
they  gather  whatever  beauty  and  truth  they 
may,  from  anything.  Seitei  Watanabe  used 
to  laugh  at  the  artists  of  particular  schools. 
He  declared  that  he  did  not  belong  to  any 


J/ 


Swallows  .SMii  llialili-    tri'f  drawn   liy 
S<.'iti-i   Wataiial'e 

thought.  Her  temperament,  naturally 
humorous,  is  becoming  sunny  and  less  emo- 
tional, while  the  dark  intensity  and  uncom- 
fortable rigidity  of  ancient  times  are  loosen- 
ing their  folds.  Her  customs  are  changed. 
However,  she  is  pathetically  clinging  to  lier 
old  traditions  with  a  somcwliat  apologetic 
smile.  What  vast  learning  she  has  gained 
in  the  last  thirty  years  !  Happilj',  she  is 
breaking  away  from  the  prejudices  which 
she  unreasonably  cherished  for  centuries  and 
centuries.  Such  is  Japan.  Such  is  the  ai't 
of  Seitei  Watanabe. 
386  • 


i 


«■  *#"'3!l^''- 


."N#^^ 


''*:^ 


Art  is  not  the  expression  of  one  school, 
but  the  interpretation  of  the  world  and  life. 
It  should  be  universal.  Some  years  since 
we  used  to  despise  the  artists  of  Ukio-ye 
("Floating  World  Pictures"),  calling  them 
artisans.  We  denounced  their  art  as  vul- 
garity. But  Watanabe  rushed  among 
them,  carrying  his  high  ideals  and  superbly 


SEITEI    WATANABE 


I 


^  .^ 

% 

#. 

^^    •<     .1 

/ 

1       -0     ^ 

// 


Design  for  the  book  cover  of  Bimyo  Yama's  novel:  "  Kyoshi  no  Saninia"     (For  Teaching's  Sakei 


trained  hands.  He  said  art  was  nothing  if 
it  was  not  an  expression  of  our  liunian  life. 
He  appHcd  his  best  art  to  depicting  subjects 
common  in  streets  and  home.  He  put  his 
hand  to  book  illustrations. 

He  is  the  great  leader  of  tlie  illustrators 
to-da}-.  How  our  old  artists  persisted  in 
drawing  only  the  scenery  of  mountains  and 
rivers !  How  they  protected  themselves 
from  approach  to  the  every-day  subject  of 
human  life ! 

The  designers  were  not  classed  with  the 
"artists"  some  years  ago.  Watanabe,  who 
never  has  any  prejudice,  tried  at  once  to 
spread  his  own  wings  into  the  designing  art. 
He  was  commissioned  by  "Kosho  Kaisha" 


(a  chinawarc  and  lacquer-work  factory) 
in  1875,  to  work  for  the  advancement 
of  design.  Nearly  all  the  best  designs  of 
chinaware  or  lacquer  work  which  are  seen  in 
the  Japanese  shops  in  this  country  are  from 
his  originals.  Sosuke  Naniikawa  made  him 
a  head  designer  for  his  cloisonne  factory. 
The  reputation  which  the  Japanese  cloisonne 
has  gained  abroad  is  largely  due  to  his  art. 
He  has  received  a  imndred  medals  from 
various  societies  and  expositions. 

He  is  the  most  versatile  artist  in  subject 
as  well  as  treatment,  that  Japan  has  ever 
produced.  He  is  authoritative  also  in  the 
historical  ])icture.  His  art  made  an  epoch,  it 
is  said,  when  he  returned  fioiii  France,  some 

387 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


ten  years  ago.  He  learned  the  laws  of 
perspective,  and  light  and  shadow.  His 
clever  adaptation  never  shows  cruditj-.  That 
ho  never  exposes  the  Western  influences 
ahruptly  in  his  choicest  art.  AVhat  a  well- 
bred  atmosphere  in  his  picture !  And  what 
an  abundance  of  suggestion  !  His  single 
lines  are  charmingly  sure.  However,  I 
cannot  understand  why  he  falls  suddenly 
into  the  hereditary  formalism  of  making  an 
iinjjossible  face,  when  he  draws  the  human 
figure. 

If  onlv  you  could  see  his  pictures  of  birds 
and  flowers!     Where  have  we  his  superior.? 

A  certain  count,  wlio^e  taste  was  not 
poetical,  built  a  vill.i.  It  happened  that 
the  screens  of  his  private  chaniijcr  were 
beautiful  with  Watanabe's  fishes  and  lotos. 
Gradually  his  art  worked  a  charm.  The 
count's  love  of  art  increased.  His  temper- 
ament was  soon  pacified.  Finally  he  gave 
up  his  hunting  guns  and  political  speech, 
and  became  a  student  of  Seitei.      Now  the 


^HB^^ 


I)r:twu  t'V  Scitfi  Wataliali" 


Drawn  liy  Seiti-i  Watanalu' 

count  is  known  as  an  artist.  It  is,  as  I 
licar,  a  story  that  he  tells  with  great  delight. 

Seitei  Watanabe  counts  the  Russian  and 
Italian  ministers  to  Japan  among  his  chief 
admirers.  It  has  been  a  custom  of  foreign 
travelers  in  Japan  for  some  years  to  secure 
Watanabe's  pictures.  His  art  demands  a 
high  price.  A  picture  which  he  can  dash 
off  in  ten  minutes  commands  more  than  fifty 
dollars  in  American  gold. 

Watanabe  studied  under  Yosai  Kikuchi, 
one  of  the  greatest  masters,  who  has  been 
dead  now  some  years.  He  was  born  in 
Tokyo,  some  fifty-five  years  ago.  He  served 
in  a  certain  shop  as  an  errand  boy  until 
lie  was  sixteen.  His  brother,  who  was  keen 
to  perceive  his  genius,  assured  his  place  in 
the  world  of  art. 


38g 


REALISTIC   JAPANESE   ART 


it^ 


:.\^^ 


I        'f 


i'eouies  drawn  by 

THE  UKIO-YE  SCHOOL  OF  JAPAN- 
ESE ART  (1700-1867) 

TOWARD  t\m  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  tlie  first  faint  traces 
of  an  influence  of  Western  picto- 
rial art  became  palpable.  Tlie 
artist,  Iwasa  Matahei,  was  probably  one  of 
tlie  first  who  became  interested  in  Occidental 
laws  of  composition,  his  knowledge  being 
gathered  largely  from  stray  copper  engrav- 
ings which  the  Tortuguese  and  Dutch 
traders  had  brought  with  them  to  Jajjan. 
Although  these  experiments  had  at  the 
start  no  decided  effect  on  the  Japanese  style, 
they  helped  to  free  it  more  and  more  from 
the  shackles  of  Chinese  tradition.  The 
artists  were  initiated  into  the  laws  of  pcr- 


Seitei  W'alitnabo 

spective  and  foreshoi-tcning;  beconn'nfr  ac- 
qiiainted  with  the  study  from  nature  and 
life  as  practised  by  Western  artists. 

Iwasa  Matahei,  who  became  famous  about 
16-iO,  was  the  first  Japanese  painter  who 
tried  to  repi-escnt  realistic  scenes.  One  of 
the  common  people,  he  threw  himself  whole- 
heartedly into  study  of  the  many  entertain- 
ing phases  of  simple  life.  The  idyl  of  a 
rustic  love,  the  sports  of  ciiildren,  the  dance, 
the  songs,  the  display  of  crowded  market- 
places, and  also  the  somewhat  shadier  sides 
of  life:  these  apcpaled  to  him,  overwhelmed 
his  enthusiasm  and  captured  his  dreams. 
Such  subjects  justify  the  title  of  "Floating 
World  Pictures." 

—  From  J(i//tim>in!  Aria  liij  Siidaklrlii  llarliiuitiii 


389 


390 


STRUCTURE  AND  ORNAMENT 


STRUCTURE   AND  ORNAMENT   IN 
THE  CRAi'TSMAN  WORKSHOFS 

TO  retain  a  structural  plan  which 
may  be  easily  read  by  the  untrained 
eye  is  the  ambition  of  all  modern 
architects.  When  they  place  upon 
street  or  square  an  imposing  public  build- 
ing, they  wish  it  to  tell,  in  its  own  words, 
whether  it  is  a  church,  a  town-hall,  or  a 
theatre,  and  this  as  plainly  as  if  it  were  a 
roadside  cottage.  Complication,  that  other 
name  for  confusion,  is  ever\'- 
where  avoided  as  a  matter  of 
principle.  This  course  is  in 
accordance  with  the  strict  neces- 
sities of  the  times.  It  is,  doubt- 
less, an  outcome  of  the  multiple 
modern  development  of  the 
means  of  transit  and  communi- 
cation. The  traveler  must 
be  able  instantly  to  determine 
the  direction  which  he  is  to  fol- 
low ;  while  the  reader  of  the 
public  prints  demands  head- 
lines which  shall  give  him  the 
news  of  the  world  conveyed  in 
the  most  compact  form  of  ex- 
pression. Such  impulses  to 
directness  and  simplicity  being 
contagious  and  rapidly  propa- 
gated, the}-  have  already  in- 
vaded all  provinces  of  life. 
thought  and  art. 

Sharply  defined  ideas  trans- 
mitted tlirough  a  medium  of 
transparent  words  are  now  de- 
manded everywhere  from  tin 
writer,  the  preacher  and  tin- 
teacher.  Simple,  structural 
plans,  with  an  absence  of  ap- 


plied ornament,  are  required  from  the  con- 
structors of  tilings  made  by  hands,  whether 
these  tiu'ngs  arc  greater  or  smaller:  the 
house  to  live  in,  the  bed  to  lie  in,  or  the  desk 
or  table  at  which  to  work. 

It  so  appears  that  the  simple  and  the 
structural  are  a  spontaneous  expression  of 
the  times,  strong  almost  to  the  point  of 
vehemence,  and  which  no  conventionality  or 
expedient  can  suppress.  They  are  not 
tlie  outcome  of  a  deliberate  purpose;  nor 
are    they    imposed    for    a    season    bv    the 


391 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


caprices  of  fashion.  They  mark  an  epoch, 
a  distinct  stage  in  tlie  world's  pro- 
gress. 

Simplicity  has  ever  been  its  own  justifica- 
tion, but  at  the  present  moment,  tliis  is 
doubly  true.  The  oldest  nations  are  seek- 
ing to  return  to  it,  while  the  newer  ones  are 
trying  to  retain  it  witliin  their  grasp.  A 
Parisian  now  points  the  way  to  "The  Simple 


Life,"  while  the  Russians,  elemental  in  their 
passions,  are  attracting  universal  admira- 
tion by  the  manifestations  of  their  ingenu- 
ous, racial  art.  Tiie  movement  is  world- 
wide, and  it  advances,  destroying  the  old 
limits  and  barriers  of  artificiality  and  affec- 
tation. 

From  these  convincing  conditions,  it  is 
plain  that  those  who  strictly  follow  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  simple  and  tlie  structural, 
whatever  may  be  their  chosen  medium 
of  expression,  do  this  with  no  fixed  in- 
tention of  creating  a  so-called  style. 
They  act  in  obedience  to  their  own 
impulses  and  the  requirements  of  the 
moment.  In  a  word,  they  are  the  in- 
struments, the  translators  of  thought ; 
not  the  tyrants  of  taste,  whose  down- 
fall is  plotted  by  the  public  in  the 
same  instant  that  they  are  raised  to 
power. 

Thus  a  positive  conviction,  a  real- 
ity, has  served  as  the  inspiration  for 
the  several  pieces  of  cabinet-work  here 
iUustrated,  which  are  among  the  most 
iiccnt  productions  of  The  Craftsman 
^liops.  These  pieces,  in  every  case, 
boldly  assert  the  purpose  for  which 
they  are  designed.  The  chair  does 
not  reach  out  after  the  attributes  of 
the  table ;  nor  yet  does  the  round  table 
purloin  the  characteristics  of  the 
square  object  of  its  own  kind.  Each 
specimen  preserves  a  structural  dis- 
tinction as  marked  as  that  which  sep- 
arates, one  from  the  other,  the  species 
and  varieties  of  the  animal  and  the 
vegetable  kingdoms.  The  principles 
upon  which  they  are  based  follow 
Nature,  and  must,  therefore,  be  sound 
and  true. 


392 


393 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


On  tlie  otlicr  liand,  it  niight  be  urced 
against  tlicni  tliat  tlicy  are  primitive;  that 
is,  too  close  to  the  work  of  tlie  original 
maker  of  a  chair  or  a  table ;  that  as  Nature 
herself  develops  and  disguises,  so  ought  to 
do  also  the  builder,  the  craftsman  of  a 
highly  civilized  period.  But  this  objection 
can  be  answered  briefly :  the  works  of  Na- 
ture are  living,  and  each  moment  of  life 
brings  with  it  its  own  degree  and  point  of 
interest ;  wliilc  the  works  of  man  can  promise 
nothing  be^'ond  the  qualities  which  they 
possess  at  their  completion.  Their  first 
essential  then  is  unity,  and  the  harmony 
which  flows  therefrom  :  a  blending  of  jiarts 
like  that  resulting  from  the  union  of  the 
three  notes  of  the  common  chord  in  music. 
Moreover,  the  complete  justification  of 
structural  simplicity,  one  might  almost  say 
of  structural  crudit}',  resides  in  the  archi- 


tecture of  the  most  artistic  race  appearing 
in  history.  The  most  highly  developed 
Greek  temple  in  marble  preserved  in  its  plan 
the  elementary  qualities  of  timber  construc- 
tion ;  while  its  ornament  was  the  elaboration 
and  accent  given  to  certain  structural  de- 
tails :  such  ornament  never  disguising  or 
interfering  with  the  simplicity  and  signifi- 
cance of  line  and  contour.  ,?uch  were  the 
flutings  of  the  columns  typifying  the 
g-rooved  bark  of  forest  trees ;  such  also  the 
triglyphs  or  upright  markings  of  the  frieze 
which  recalled  the  primitive  ceiling  of  the 
ccUa  or  sanctuarj'. 

In  a  similar  manner,  the  pieces  of  cabinet- 
work, here  illustrated,  will  be  seen  to  have 
received  their  ornament.  It  is  used,  as 
was  decoration  with  the  Greeks,  to  relieve 
and  make  interesting  what  otherwise  would 


394 


39a 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


have  been  a  too  large  area  of  plain,  flat  sur- 
face. It,  in  every  case,  emphasizes  the 
structural  lines ;  accenting  in  most  instances 
the  vertical  elements,  and  so  giving  a  cer- 
tain slenderness  of  effect  to  a  whole  which 
were  otherwise  too  solid  and  heavy. 

Further,  this  ornament,  like  that  of  the 
Greeks,  appears  to  proceed  from  within 
outward.  It  bears  no  trace  of  having  been 
applied.  It  consists  of  fine  markings,  discs, 
and  other  figures  of  pewter  and  copper, 
which,  like  the  stems  of  plants  and  obscured. 


simplified  floral  forms,  seem  to  pierce  the 
surface  of  the  wood  from  beneath,  as  the 
edges  of  planks  and  the  round  ends  of  tree- 
trunks  continued  in  semblance  to  pierce  the 
Greek  frieze,  even  after  the  translation  of 
the  original  timbers  into  marble. 

In  the  ornament  of  the  cabinet-work,  the 
silvery  lines  with  their  expanded  terminals 
of  bright  bronze  or  colored  woods,  contrast 
well  with  the  gray-brown  of  the  oak  which, 
in  every  example  shown,  provides  the  build- 
ing material.  This  native  product,  the 
qualities  of  which  are  now  receiving  deserved 
attention,  is,  so  to  speak,  the  most  human  of 
woods,  that  is,  the  most  amenable  to  the 
educative  process :  the  literal  drawing  out 
of  all  that  constitutes  its  value.  Under  the 
action  of  "fuming"  and  of  other  chemical 
processes,  whicli  might  be  compared  to  the 
experiences  and  trials  of  an  individual,  it 
discloses  unsuspected  qualities  of  beauty 
previously  lying  concealed  within  its  heart. 

There  remains  only  to  note  certain  details 
of  the  pieces  which  make  for  usefulness. 
The  closed  desk  shows  a  hinge  which,  by  its 
placing  and  construction,  does  away  with 
the  brace  usually  employed  to  hold  the  door 
in  horizontal  position  ;  permitting  the  latter, 
when  let  down,  to  pass  under  the  body  of  the 
desk.  It  may  also  be  noted  that  tlie  interior 
witli  its  small  drawers,  is  made  from  the 
odorous  red  cedar.  Again,  the  chairs  are 
provided  with  cane  bottoms,  woven  in  large 
open  squares,  and  thus  affording  seats  at 
once  cool  and  pliant.  The  screen  also 
justifies  itself,  in  tiiat  it  appears  light  and 
portal:)lo. 

Altogctiier,  it  is  hoped  that  these  few 
examples  may  plead  strongly  for  the  simple 
and  tlie  structural  as  against  the  ornate  and 
tile  complex. 


39e 


THE   BEAUTY   OF    EARTH 


AliT  AND  THE  BEAUTY  OF  EAIITH : 
WILLIAM  jMORRIS 

SLTIELY  tliere  is  no  square  mile  of 
earth's  inhabitable  surface  that  is 
not  beautiful  in  its  own  way,  if  we 
men  will  only  abstain  from  wilfully 
destrojing  that  beauty  of  the  earth  that  I 
claim  as  the  right  of  every  man  who  will 
earn  it  by  due  labor;  a  decent  house  with 
decent  surroundings  for  every  honest  and 
industrious  family ;  that  is  the  claim  which 
I  make  of  j'ou  in  the  name  of  art.  Is  it  such 
an  exorbitant  claim  to  make  of  a  civiliza- 
tion that  is  too  apt  to  boast  in  after-dinner 
speeches ;  too  apt  to  thrust  her  blessings  on 
far-off  peoples  at  the  cannon's  mouth  before 
she  has  improved  the  quality  of  those  bless- 
ings so  far  that  they  are  worth  having  at 
any  price,  even  the  smallest? 

Well,  I  am  afraid  that  claim  is  exorbitant. 
Both  j'ou  as  representatives  of  the  manu- 
facturing districts,  and  I  as  representing 
the  metropolis,  seem  hitherto  to  have  as- 
sumed that,  at  any  rate ;  nor  is  there  one 
family  in  a  thousand  that  has  established  its 
claim  to  the  right  aforesaid. 

Look  j'ou,  as  I  sit  at  work  at  home,  which 
is  at  Hammersmith,  close  to  the  river,  I 
often  hear  go  past  the  window  some  of  that 
ruffianism  of  wliich  a  good  deal  has  been  said 
before  at  recurring  intervals.  As  I  hear 
the  yells  and  shrieks  and  all  the  degrada- 
tions cast  on  the  glorious  tongue  of  Shak- 
spere  and  Milton,  as  I  see  the  brutal,  reckless 


faces  and  figures  go  past  me,  it  rouses  the 
recklessness  and  brutality  in  me  also,  and 
fierce  wrath  takes  possession  of  me  till  I 
remember,  as  I  hope  I  mostly  do,  that  it  was 
my  good  luck  only  of  being  born  respectable 
and  rich  that  has  put  me  on  this  side  of  the 
window  among  delightful  books  and  lovely 
works  of  art,  and  not  on  the  other  side,  in 
the  empty  street,  the  foul  and  degraded 
lodgings.  What  words  can  say  what  all 
tliat  means.''  Do  not  think,  I  beg  of  ^ou, 
that  I  am  speaking  rhetorically  or  saying 
that,  when  I  think  of  all  this,  I  feel  that  the 
one  great  thing  I  desire  is  that  this  great 
countrj-  should  shake  off  from  her  all  for- 
eign and  colonial  entaglements,  and  turn 
that  might}'  force  of  her  respectable  people 
to  giving  the  children  of  the  poor  the  pleas- 
ures and  the  hopes  of  men.  Is  that  really 
impossible.''  Is  there  no  hope  of  it?  If  so. 
I  can  only  say  that  civilization  is  a  delusion 
and  a  lie ;  there  is  no  such  thing  and  no  hope 
of  such  a  thing. 

But  since  I  wish  to  live,  and  even  to  be 
happy,  I  can  not  believe  it  impossible.  I 
know  by  my  own  feelings  and  desires  what 
these  men  want,  what  would  have  saved  them 
from  this  lowest  depth  of  savagery :  employ- 
ment which  would  foster  their  self-respect 
and  win  the  praise  and  sympathy  of  their 
fellows,  and  dwellings  which  they  could  come 
to  with  pleasure,  surroundings  which  would 
soothe  and  elevate  them,  reasonable  labor, 
reasonable  rest.  There  is  only  one  thing 
tliat  can  give  them  this,  and  that  thing  art. 


397 


'A 


396 


A   CRAFTSMAN    HOUSE 


A  eK.\i TSMAN  HOUSE :  SERIES  OF 
1904,  NUMBER  ONE 

THE  CRAFTS:\rA\  for  Xovoinhcr, 
iy03,  contained  detailed  infornui- 
tion  regarding  the  founding  of  a 
Homebuilders'  Club,  to  lie  conduct- 
ed under  the  auspices  of  tlie  Magazine. 

Announcement  was  tlien  made  of  the  pur- 
pose to  publish,  during  tlie  year  1904,  in 
each  monthly  issue,  the  design  of  a  detached 
residence  of  which  the  cost  shovdd  range 
between  two  and  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

It  was  further  announced  tiiat  one  of  the 
twelve  proposed  designs,  including  complete 
plans  and  specifications,  would  be  furnished 
to  any  member  of  the  Club ;  the  choice  to  be 
made  by  the  member  proffering  the  request. 

In  accordance,  therefore,  with  these  state- 
ments, the  first  Craftsman  House  of  the 
1904  secies,  is  hero  presented,  in  the  belief 
that  its  simplicity,  its  vigorous  style,  and 
its  picturesque  quality,  will  find  immediate 
favor. 


Jcg 


plete  as  to  enable  any  one  familiar  with 
building  easily  to  e.xecute  them  without 
error. 

The  structure  here  illustrated  is  a  some- 
what heavy  balloon-framed  house ;  the  frame 
being  sheathed  and  covered  with  expanded 
metal  lath,  a!id  the  whole  coated  witii  cement. 


Front  eleTation 
The  accompanying  designs  represent  a 
house  which  can  be  constructed  for  the  ap- 
proximate cost  of  $6,500 ;  the  slight  element 
of  uncertainty  residing  in  the  prices  of 
materials  and  of  lal^or,  which  vary  accord- 
ing to  locality.  In  the  present  instance,  as 
in  all  succeeding  examples,  it  is  intended 
that  the  plans  may  be  easily  read ;  that  the 
drawings  and  specifications  may  be  so  com- 


.-^^^ 


n 


Side  elevation 

The  roof  of  strong  projection,  but  neitiier 
"scowling"  nor  "frowning,"  as  Ruskin 
nn'glit  sa}-,  is  covered  with  unglazed  red 
Spanish  tile  in  the  usual  lap-rolled  pattern, 
with  ridge  rolls  and  cresting. 

All  the  exterior  cement  work  is  left  rough, 
"under  the  trowel:"  a  treatment  producing 
quality  and  texture  which  are  difficult  to 
obtain  bj'  any  other  method,  and  to  which 
time  and  weather  give  additional  beauty. 

The  necessary  decorative  clement  in  the 
exterior  is  furnished  by  a  structural  neces- 
sity ;  a  carefully  designed  system  of  doors 
and  Avindows  giving  a  pleasing  effeect  of 
mass  b}'  the  proper  alternation  of  voids  and 
solids. 

It  \v  ill  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the  problem 
of  the  exterior  has  been  brought  to  a  solu- 
tion by  the  judicious  working  of  three  fac- 
tors :  simplicity  of  building  materials ;  the 
employment  of  constructive  features  as  the 
only  means  of  decoration  ;  a  recognition  of 
the  color-element  which  plays  so  prominent 
a  part  in  all  satisfactory  modern  architec- 
ture, whether  monumental  or  domestic. 

The  treatment  of  the   interior  is  based 

399 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


GROUND  riSDR 
PLAN 


■        -■ 


upon  tlie  same  principles ;  the  essential  ques- 
tion being  one  of  economy  in  the  aftistic 
sense :  that  is,  how  to  obtain  the  maximum 
effect  from  the  materials  eniplojed,  these  to 
be  comparatively  few  in  number,  and  com- 
paratively inexpensive. 

The  middle  section  of  the  advanced  por- 
tion of  the  fa9ade  is  pierced  by  three  bays: 
a  central  door  flanked  by  round  arches. 
These  openings  give  into  a  rectangular 
porch,  the  floor  of  whicli  is  covered  with  an 
interesting  new  composition,  known  as 
Asbestorazza. 

From  this  porcli,  advancing  into  the  true 
400 


interior,  we  find  the  vestibule,  hall,  living 
and  dining  rooms  furnished  in  selected 
cliestnut  of  a  brown-gray  tone,  upon  which 
no  oil  or  varnish  has  been  used.  It  has  been 
tri'ated  instead  witli  a  species  of  lacquer,  a 
preparation  wliich  does  not  produce  lustre, 
which  dries  perfecly  "dead,"  and,  further, 
preserves  the  wood  from  moisture  and  spot- 
ting. 

In  the  second  story,  the  hall  continues  the 
chestnut  of  the  ground  floor,  while  the 
"trim"  of  the  four  principal  bedrooms  is  of 
hazelwood,  finished  to  a  green-gray  by  ap- 
plication of  the  lacquer  before  mentioned. 


A   CRAFTSMAN    HOUSE 


SEC9ND  FICOR 
PLAN 


I3£,D  PlOiW^ 
/4'0'x  /Z'O 


BSD  FlCOt^ 
/Jr-'o  X  /3'o' 


The  remaining  bedrooms,  as  well  as  the 
cloak-room,  kitchen,  serving-room,  and 
pantr}-,  are  finished  in  Georgia  pine,  stained 
golden-green.  The  "trim"  of  the  bath- 
room is  of  hazelwood,  but  here  the  walls  to 
a  height  of  five  feet,  as  well  as  the  floor,  are 
covered  with  Asbestorazza  of  a  pleasing 
Gobelin  blue  tone. 

The  floors  of  the  living  room,  the  dining 
room  and  the  halls,  both  the  upper  and  the 
lower,  are  of  white  oak,  fumed  nut  brown  ; 
while  those  of  the  bedrooms  are  of  Georgia 
pine,  stained  j'ellow-greon. 

The  ceilings  of  the  living  room,  the  din- 


ing room,  and  the  liall  are  beamed  with 
lacquered  chestnut ;  the  plaster  between  the 
beams  being  left  "under  the  trowel."  and 
coated  with  a  thin  covering  of  brown  shellac. 
The  fireplace  of  the  living  room  is  built 
in  red  Harvard  brick;  a  picturesque  effect 
being  secured  by  accepting  the  bricks  as 
tiiey  come  from  the  kiln,  witiiout  regard  to 
their  color;  the  alternation  of  "lights  and 
darks"  being  much  more  pleasing  to  tlie  eve 
than  a  uniformity  of  shade.  Above  the  fire- 
place, there  is  a  wooden  shelf  fixed  to  the 
masonry,  and  supported  by  simply  cut  cor- 
bels of  gray  stone. 

401 


o 


4,02- 


A   CRAFTSMAN    HOUSE 


Passing  now  from  the  interior  finish  to 
consider  tlie  decorative  scheme  and  the  mov- 
able furnishings,  we  find  a  continuance  of 
tlie  rule  of  simplicity :  the  absence  of  every- 
thing superfiuous,  and  the  pleasure  of  the 
eye  obtained  through  bold,  plain  structural 
features,  tempered  by  the  judicious  use  of 
color. 

In  the  living  room,  the  walls  are  covered 
with  moss  green  canvas,  divided  into  panels, 
and  reacliing  to  a  frieze  of  the  same  fabric 
in  tan  color,  upon  which  is  stenciled  a  deco- 
rative viofif,  adapted  from  the  "feather 
desig-n"  of  the  Zuni  Indians.  The  focus 
of  color  is  afforded  by  copper  electric  lan- 
terns with  shades  of  soft  yellow  glass,  which 
are  suspended  from  the  ceiling  by  iron 
chains. 

The  lone  seat  cushions  at  cither  end  of 
the  room  are  covered  with  ]>omegranate  red 
canvas ;  the  pillows  showing  tlie  same  color, 
and  also  a  gray-green  which  liarnionizes 
admirably  with  the  pomegranate.  The  floor 
is  laid  with  rugs  in  warm  reds  and  browns, 
heightened  by  the  contrast  of  green ;  the 
windows  arc  hung  with  long  sash  curtains 
of  unbleached  linen,  upon  which  is  traced 
a  poppy  motif,  done  in  rose-tints  and  green, 
accented  here  and  there  with  blue. 

The  movable  furnishings  of  tliis  room 
consist  of  book-cases  standing  at  either  side 
of  the  chimney  piece,  a  round  table  with 
leather  top,  and  easy  chairs  cushioned  in 
soft  leather  of  a  delicate  green.  The  wood 
of  all  these  pieces  is  fumed  oak  and  the  book 
cases  have  glass  doors  divided  into  two 
unequal  panels,  the  upper  and  shorter  one 
being  leaded  in  small  squares. 

The  hall  has  its  side  walls,  above  the 
wainscoting,  covered  with  yellow-green  can- 
vas ;  while  the  adjacent  dining  room  pro- 


duces in  combination  with  this  a  very  har- 
monious effect  by  its  walls  of  dull  peacock- 
l)luc ;  the  grayish  quality  of  the  fabric  being 
iiere  especially  valuable  to  the  artistic  result. 
The  curtains  of  the  dining  room  are  of  blue 
linen,  figured  in  rose  and  green ;  the  seat 
cushion  is  yellow-green,  and  the  pillows  are 
brown,  blue  and  yellow.  The  movable  fur- 
nishings arc  of  fumed  oak  and  the  cliairs 
have  rush  seats. 

Bedrooms  A  and  li  are  treated,  as  to  their 
walls,  the  first  in  moss  green,  and  the  second 
in  golden  green ;  both  having  stenciled 
friezes  of  burnt  orange  and  brown,  ceilings 
in  old  ivory,  and  their  floors  laid  with  red 
and  brown  rugs.  The  curtains  are  of  plain, 
self-colored  linen  with  drawn  work  borders, 
done  with  yellow-brown  floss. 

In  both  rooms  all  the  furniture  is  of  oak 
fumed  to  a  nut  brown. 

Bedroom  C  has  walls  of  soft  old  rose,  with 
rujxs  in  designs  of  the  same  color,  yellows 
and  greens.  Here  the  old  rose  forms  an 
exquisitelv  contrasting  background  for  the 
majile  furniture  of  satin  finish  and  yellow- 
green  tone. 

Bedroom  I)  has  old  Gobelin  blue  walls, 
pale  lemon-yellow  ceiling,  and  linen  cur- 
tains w  ith  blue  dr;»Nn-work.  The  furniture 
is  silver  gray  maple,  inlaid  with  designs  in 
peacock-blue  wood,  pewter  and  copper.  The 
scheme  of  this  room  is  one  of  peculiar  re- 
finement and  can  not  fail  to  please  those  who 
favor  English  ideas  of  decoration. 

The  servants'  bedrooTns,  marked  on  the 
plans  E  and  F,  have  tinted  walls  in  plain 
colors  which  contrast  with  the  wood-work  of 
Georgia  pine. 

In  conclusion  it  is  necessary  to  say  that 
certain  essentials  of  the  house,  such  as  the 

403 


V. 


i04 


MINOR   RESIDENTIAL   STREETS 


divisions  of  the  cellar  and  the  provision  for 
the  water-supply,  have  been  purposely'  left 
untreated,  since  they  can  be  determined  only 
by  locality  and  situation.  It  is,  however. 
Intended  that  the  heating  system  shall  be  a 
liot-air  furnace,  which  is  demanded  b}'  the 
general  arrangement  of  tiie  house. 

These  and  all  other  necessar^^  details  of 
plan,  construction  and  mechanical  device 
uill  be  supplied  to  the  Ilomcbuildcr,  when 
lie  shall  iiave  determined  the  site  of  his 
house,  and  furnished  a  basis  of  calculation 
to  the  draugiitsincn  of  the  Craftsman  work- 
shops. 

ON  .MINOR  RESIDENTIAL  STREETS 

IF  the  town  existed  merely  for  business — 
ill  trade  or  manufacture — there  would 
lie  scant  gain  in  making  handsome 
tlioroughfares;  and  if  it  existed  merely  as 
a  rendezvous  for  the  rich,  tliey  might  be  left 
to  seek  beauty  elsewhere.  But  the  city 
lirings  together  as  the  major  part  of  its 
population,  those  who,  having  to  work  in- 
deed, are  something  better  than  machines — 
nun  and  women  who  dream  dreams,  little 
cliildrcn  in  whose  faces  the  wonder  and  glory 
of  Paradise  should  linger  still,  youths  with 
love's  refining  finger  on  their  souls,  the  aged 
in  whose  hearts  tiie  vision  of  the  city  of  God 
is  cherished  expectantly.  Upon  these,  the 
irmltitudes  of  the  city,  rests  more  than  ever 
before  the  liope  of  humanity.  They  arc 
now  the  straining  vanguard  of  mankind. 
"He  who  makes  the  city  makes  the  world," 
for  he  makes  the  environment  of  these 
world's  workers.  As  this  environment  is 
lovely  and  uplifting,  or  mean  and  depress- 
ing, as  it  feeds  or  starves  the  brains  and 
spirits  whose  outlook  upon  earth   it   com- 


passes, it  may  be  supjjosed  to  influence  tiic 
battle — to  help  the  forward  or  retrograde 
movement  of  the  race.  So  a  new  dignity,  a 
moral  quality,  conies  into  the  plea  for  civic 
art  when  it  touches  the  homes  of  the  people. 

And  is  there  no  desire  for  beauty  and  the 
comfort  of  peace  and  harmony  in  the  lionKi' 
We  recognize  it  too  well  to  make  the  question 
deserve  an  answer.  The  unexplained  but 
long  observed  and  well-nigh  unanimous 
growtii  of  cities  to  tlic  westward,  by  the 
addition  to  their  west  side  of  the  homes  of 
tliose  who  are  able  to  choose,  seems  like  an 
unconscious  yielding,  after  the  weariness 
and  toil  of  the  day,  to  the  beckoning  (|niit 
and  beauty  of  the  sunset.  Is  it  not  tlie 
consistent  repetition  of  that  beauteous  sign 
in  the  sky,  when  work  is  done,  that  uncon- 
.sciously  calls  men  thither.'' 

Civic  art  has,  then,  a  new  and  liigher  im- 
pulse when  it  comes  to  the  homes  of  tiu- 
workers,  and  it  finds  a  field  waiting  and 
ready.  Its  problem  is  not  the  collective, 
civic,  and  splendid,  as  on  the  great  avenues; 
it  is  not  to  teach  and  incite,  as  in  the  business 
district.  It  is  to  harmonize  individual  ef- 
forts in  order  that  private  endeavor  may 
serve  the  public  end.  The  exterior  of  voiir 
home,  said  Ruskin,  is  not  private  j)roj)crtv. 
So  he  stated,  boldly  and  strikingly,  a  prin- 
ciple that  has  wide  legal  recognition — that 
the  outside  of  the  house  and  such  part  of  the 
grounds  as  may  be  seen  from  the  street  are 
the  very  real  concern  of  the  neighbors.  ■  On 
that  firm  basis,  then,  of  give  and  take — a 
dependence  somewhat  surer  than  unselfish- 
ness, if  not  so  lovely — rests  the  inviting 
character  of  the  minor  residential  street,  in 
so  far  as  it  depends  on  individual  homes. 
— Modem  Civic  Art, 

Charles  Mulford  Roh'nxnn 


405 


[ 

;  zrr-  ----==  --  ----------",^5; 

in '      ■ 

r 

i 

1 
1 
I 

t 
I 

[ 

j .  1                v.  .t^^;  ;  '  : 

406 


MANUAL   TRAIMXG 


AIA^XAL  TRAINING  AND  CITIZEN- 
SHIP 

IN  response  to  many  requests  from 
teachers  in  the  public  school-system,  as 
well  as  from  amateur  workmen,  The 
Craftsman  opens  in  its  first  issue  for 
1904,  a  series  of  illustrated  papers  treating 
the  construction  of  things  necessary  in 
every  household.  It  is  believed  by  the  Edi- 
tors that  tliese  papers  will  fill  an  actual  need 
and  produce  results  greatlj-  to  be  desired. 
Technical  training  is  now  demanded  alike 
by  educators  and  by  those  to  be  educated; 
while  the  workshop  is  rising  slowly  to  its  old 
and  natural  place  beside  the  school.  The 
two  means  of  instruction  are  coming  to  be 
recognized  as  coordinate;  since  in  order  to 
prevent  waste  of  human  power,  communica- 
tion between  the  brain  and  the  hand  must  be 
ra{)id,  clear  and  complete.  The  apostle  of 
this  principle,  the  Russian  prince  Kropot- 
kin,  who  long  preached  in  tlie  wilderness, 


has  gathered  about  him  a  company  repre- 
senting all  nationalities  and  all  classes  of 
society.  The  thoughtful  of  both  hemi- 
spheres admit  tliat  to  impart  manual  skill  is 
to  multiply  the  resources  of  the  individual. 


107 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


not  only  as  regards  his  power  to  accumulate 
wealth,  hut  also  permanently  to  acquire 
happiness.  The  desire  to  create,  to  exter- 
nalize, to  make  an  idea  visible  and  tangible, 
which  is  strong  in  the  child,  makes  for  the 
prosperity  or  the  misforune  of  the  man,  ac- 
cording if,  througli  the  formative  period, 
it  be  directed  well  or  ill.  The  child  or  youth 
who  builds,  will  not  deface  or  destroy.  A 
quality  or  impulse  has  alwaj's  its  co-relative, 
or  opposite,  and  tiie  mature,  the  trained, 
408' 


who  are  sensible  of  this  undoubted  fact, 
should  carefully  guard  and  direct  the 
3'ounger. 

Thus  there  are  botii  positive  and  negative 
reasons  for  insisting  upon  the  development 
throughout  our  country  of  the  manual 
training  idea.  The  kind  of  education  which 
the  system  involved  in  tlie  idea  produces,  is 
as  necessary  to  the  villager  and  the  farmer, 
as  to  the  townsman.  Manual  training  for 
tlie   child   of   the   city   slum    is   almost   an 


MANUAL   TUAIMXC; 


equivalent  of  life-saving.  It  prevents  him 
from  falling  into  idleness,  not  by  forbidding 
him  to  divert  himself,  but  by  enjoining  him 
to  do  so.  It  encourages  him  to  adorn  his 
tenement-home  with  the  small  results  of  his 
handicraft.  It  teaches  him  the  principles 
of  construction  which,  having  applied  to 
one  material  or  mcdivmi,  he  will  invariably 
adapt  to  another;  thus  acquiring  a  fund  of 
information  which,  in  its  growth,  will  expel 
evil  from  his  mind,  and  develop  powers  use- 
ful to  himself  and  otiicrs,  as  he  advances  to 
the  duties  of  his  mature  life:  as  he  becomes 


11) 


a  workman,  the  sustaining  member  of  a 
family,  and  a  citizen  of  th.e  Republic. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  man- 
ual training  is  not  alone  a 
means  of  child  saving  in  the 
city  slum.  In  the  same 
problematic  district,  it  may 
become  also  a  means  of  nat- 
uralizing our  Americans  in 
process,  bv'  increasing 
among  the  foreign  poor 
thrift,  the  desire  for  order 
and  cleanliness  which  comes 
tln-ough  the  possession  of 
cherished  objects,  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  ability  to 
produce  something  useful, 
and,  not  least,  that  content 
which  springs  from  a  defi- 
nite aim  and  a  constant,  not 
'  lo   laborious  employment 

409 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


a 


which  the  Christian  world  is  historically  re- 
sponsible. What  is  true  of  the  Hebrew 
children,  is  also  true,  with  slight  differences, 
of  the  other  non-amalgamated  elements  of 
our  youthful  population.  Therefore,  with 
two  equally  important  aims,  we  must  insist 
upon  the  development  of  manual  training 
among  our  city  poor:  first,  as  a  means  of 
acquiring  skill  and  happiness  which  we  owe 
to  the  defenseless  and  the  ignorant ;  second, 
as  a  means  of  preserving  the  integrity  of  the 
Republic. 

In  the  rural  districts,  necessity  for  the 
establishment  of  the  same  system  is  equally 
great,  although  it  arises  from  wholly  differ- 
ent causes.  As  we  counteract  the  evil  in- 
fluences of  the  herding  and  crowding  of 
humanity  in  the  large  cities,  so  we  must  also 
set  ourselves  to  "urbanize  the  country  :"  that 
is,  we  must  pass  on  to  the  tillers  of  the  soil 
all  the  advantages  which  progress  affords  in 
the  centers  of  research  and  experiment.  As, 
in  the  city,  manual  training,  through  the 
inventive  quality  and  the  self-reliance  culti- 


Manual  training  has  been  recognized  as 
especially  beneficent  in  its  effects  among  the 
young  Hebrews  in  our  cities,  who,  for  the 
most  part,  children  of  Russian  parents,  are 
without  traditions  of  handicraft,  and  resort, 
if  left  to  themselves,  to  money-getting  by 
means  of  petty  barter  and  trade:  occupa- 
tions which  intensify  their  worst  character- 
istic, and  one,  be   it   said   in  passing,   for 


410 


MANUAL   TRAINING 


vated  b}'  it,  acts  as  a  safe-guard  against  evil 
companionsliip,  so,  in  the  country,  it  dimin- 
ishes the  depressing  effects  of  isolation.  '  If 
developed  upon  its  artistic  side,  it  will  create 
a  taste  for  good  books,  enlarge  the  horizon 
of  the  rural  craftsman  by  making  him  feel 
that  he  is  associated  in  the  world's  work, 
and,  in  all  ways,  act  as  a  bulwark  against 
the  "urban  drift,"  that  magnetizing  of  the 
population  to  the  towns,  which  is  watched 
with  so  much  alarm  by  economists.  It  will 
become  a  powerful  instrument  to  create 
hope,  content  and  beauty,  and,  therefore, 
aid,  as  in  the  city,  to  preserve  the  integrity 
of  the  Republic  by  harmonizing  its  varied 
elements. 

With  this  recognition  of  the  power  of 
the  idea  of  manual  training  The  Craftsman 
casts  whatever  energ}'  and  influence  it  may 
possess  into  tliis  movement,  whose  greatest 
present  defect  is  the  lack  of  cooperation  and 
centralization.  As  earlier  stated,  the  Mag- 
azine will,  hereafter,  in  each  issue,  present 


I 


1^ 

a  simply-written,  thoroughly  illustrated 
article  which,  it  is  hoped,  will  be  as  effective 
in  its  teaching  as  a  class-room,  or  better,  a 
workshop  lesson.  P'or  a  beginning,  cabinet- 
work has  been  chosen,  since  it  involves  an 
easily  treated  material  which  is  the  first  es- 
sential of  the  human  dwelling.  It  is  further 
chosen  for  the  admirable  lessons  which  it 
affords  in  all  that  concerns  structure,  and 
for  its  equally  valuable  teachings  against 
the  misuse  of  ornament. 

The  lessons  thus  proposed  will  proceed 


+11 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


from  very  simple  problems  to  those  which 
demand  a  greater  skill  in  execution :  so  that 
they  may  be  progressively  followed  from 
the  grade  to  the  purely  trade  or  technical 
school,  and  end  by  forming  the  fully 
equipped  craftsman,  who  shall  be  able,  not 
only  to  construct,  but  also  to  judge;  who 
shall  unite  in  himself  executant  and  critic, 
and  therefore  be  the  censor  of  his  own 
errors. 

It  is  also  intended  to  extend  the  lessons  to 
metal-work  and  the  employment  of  fabrics 
as  a  means  of  decoration.  But  these 
mediums  have  been  reserved  for  later  consid- 
eration ;  since  in  the  first  case,  the  shop  of 
the  metal-worker  is  somewhat  expensive  to 
create  and  conduct ;  while  in  the  second  case, 
the  medium  of  work  is  less  important  than 
the  otlicr  two  to  be  treated. 

The  first  lesson,  as  here  developed  by 
pictures,  is  divided  into  the  heads  of  utility, 
simplicity,  and  honesty  in  the  use  of  mate- 
rial. The  forms  of  the  settle,  chairs  and 
tables  are  primitive,  almost  such  as  would 
have  suggested  themselves  to  the  first  maker 
of  these  objects.  They  are  therefore  fitted 
to  be  placed  before  the  unspoiled  eyes  of 
children  and  amateur  craftsmen.  They  in- 
corporate no  vagaries  of  design  and  plainly 
express  conceptions  of  rest  and  convenience. 

Beyond  all  this,  they  do  not  falsify.  The 
separate  pieces  which  compose  them  are 
fitted  to  one  another,  not  assembled  loosely ; 
while  the  more  important  members  are  mor- 
tised and  pinned  together  with  a  real  struc- 
tural purpose ;  so  that,  in  examining  them, 
the  critic  passes  in  thought  from  the  small 
and  homely  objects  to  great  examples  of 
constructional  harmony,  like  the  music  of 
Beethoven  and  the  nave  of  Amiens  Cathe- 
dral. 


THE  STRENUOUS  LIFE.     BY  THEO- 
DORE ROOSEVELT 

A  LIFE  of  ignoble  ease,  a  life  of  that 
peace  which  springs  merely  from 
lack  either  of  desire  or  of  power  to 
strive  after  great  things,  is  as  little  worthy 
of  a  nation  as  of  an  individual.  I  ask  only 
that  what  every  self-respecting  American 
man  demands  from  himself,  and  from  his 
sons,  shall  be  demanded  of  the  American 
nation  as  a  whole.  Who  among  you  would 
teach  your  boys  that  ease,  that  peace  is  to  be 
the  first  consideration  in  your  eyes — to  be 
the  ultimate  goal  after  which  they  strive? 

.  .  .  You  work  yourselves,  and  you  bring 
up  your  sons  to  work.  If  you  are  rich,  and 
are  worthy  your  salt,  you  will  teach  your 
sons  that  though  they  may  have  leisure,  it  is 
not  to  be  spent  in  idleness ;  for  wisely  used 
leisure  merely  means  tliat  those  who  possess 
it,  being  free  from  the  necessity  of  working 
for  their  livelihood,  are  all  the  more  bound 
to  carry  on  some  kind  of  non-renmnerative 
work  in  science,  in  letters,  in  art,  in  explora- 
tion, in  historical  research — work  of  the 
type  we  most  need  in  this  country,  the  suc- 
cessful carrying  out  of  which  reflects  most 
honor  upon  the  nation. 

We  do  not  admire  the  man  of  timid  peace. 
We  admire  the  man  who  embodies  victorious 
effort ;  the  man  who  never  wrongs  his  neigli- 
bor ;  who  is  prompt  to  help  a  friend ;  but 
who  has  those  virile  qualities  necessary  to 
win  in  the  stern  strife  of  actual  life.  It  is 
hard  to  fail ;  but  it  is  worse  never  to  have 
tried  to  succeed.  In  this  life  we  get  noth- 
ing save  by  effort.  Freedom  from  effort  in 
the  present,  merely  means  that  there  has 
been  stored  up  effort  in  the  past. 


iW 


CIIIl'S 


CHIPS     FROM     THE     CRAFTSIMAN 
WORKSHOP 

THE  CRAFTSMAN,  as  he  turned 
the  leaves  of  a  Cliristmas  book, 
chanced  upon  a  quotation  from 
\'ictor  Hugo's  Jean  Valjean,  which 
cut  a  new  channel  for  his  thoughts ;  sending 
them  awaj'  from  the  traditional  pastoral 
scene  into  stem  and  sorrowful  places. 

Tiie  quotation  read  :  "There  is  no  think- 
er who  has  not  at  times  contemplated  the 
magnificence  of  the  lower  classes." 

It  was  the  word  "magnificence,"  appear- 
ing in  an  unusual  sense  and  connection, 
which  proved  so  compelling.  The  Crafts- 
man had  just  thrown  aside,  with  a  feeling 
of  discouragement,  a  criticism  of  the  Ameri- 
can production  of  the  "Parsifal,"  in  which 
the  writer  suspended  all  judgment  of  the 
piece  and  its  effect,  until  he  had  first  treated 
the  question  of  afternoon,  as  against  even- 
ing dress,  and  noted  the  millionaires  of  the 
audience. 

A  picture  of  such  magnificence  as  that 
produced  b}'  the  description  of  an  uncqualed 
New  York  "first  night,"  the  consciousness 
that  neither  the  spiritual  sense,  nor  yet  the 
artistic  quality  of  the  music-drama  had 
broken  the  tj'rannj-  of  money  and  fashion, 
so  disheartened  the  solitary  workman  that 
he  reached  after  the  new  interpretation  of 
the  word,  as  if  to  grasp  a  saving  grace.  In 
this  mood,  half -depressed  and  half-inquir- 
ing, he  closed  his  workshop  and  went  to  gain 
a  new  conception  of  magnificence  in  the  poor 
quarter  of  his  own  city. 

His  was  a  strange  quest  to  be  undertaken 
at  the  Holiday  season.  Arrived  at  his  des- 
tination, he  found  himself  in  an  atmosphere 
burdened  with  what  the  German  sociologists 


have  well  named  the  "world-sorrow."  In- 
stead of  magnificence,  he  saw  everywhere 
traces  of  the  daily  Crucifi.xion  of  Toil:  the 
scars  and  marks  which  hard  physical  labor, 
unsanitary  food  and  surroundings  leave 
upon  the  human  frame,  the  ignominy  of 
dirt,  and  the  despair  which  comes  of  forced 
confinement.  Such  conditions  were  far  from 
the  idea  of  magnificence.  On  all  sides,  in 
the  streets,  in  the  poor  shops,  in  the  door- 
wa3-s  of  the  tenements,  les  miserahles  were 
congregated. 

At  this  sight,  the  memory  of  a  second 
master  of  thought  rose  to  the  mind  of  the 
Craftsman.  This  time  also  it  was  a  fiery 
spirit,  an  intensely  sympathetic  nature,  who 
gave  his  best  thought  to  his  brothers  of 
unhappy  fate.  Once  again,  as  if  with  his 
physical  voice,  William  Morris  spoke  from 
his  window  at  Hammersmith,  looking  out 
from  among  "delightful  books  and  lovely 
works  of  art,"  upon  the  "sordid  streets,  the 
drink-steeped  shops,  the  foul  and  degraded 
lodgings."  He  seemed  again  to  ask  that 
rich  and  powerful  governments  should  give 
the  children  of  these  poor  folk  the  pleasures 
and  the  hopes  of  men ;  emploj-mcnt  which 
would  foster  their  self-respect  and  win  the 
praise  and  sj'mpathy  of  their  fellows ; 
dwellings  to  which  they  could  come  with 
pleasure;  surroundings  which  would  soothe 
and  elevate  them ;  reasonable  labor  and  rea- 
sonable rest.  He  further  cried  out  in  his 
sorrow  over  prevailing  conditions,  that  if 
the  things  which  he  so  ardently  desired  were 
impossible,  then  civilization  was  a  delusion, 
a  mockery,  absolutely  non-existent. 

The  words  of  the  two  great  humanitarians 
gave  the  Craftsman  much  material  for  re- 
flection, while  the  surroundings  clarified  his 
thoughts    and    quickened    his    sympathies. 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Consideration  being  allowed  for  the  exalted 
state  of  mind  in  which  both  enthusiasts 
wrote,  they  yet  had  right  upon  their  side. 
It  became  plain  to  the  seeker  after  truth 
that  the  "magnificence  of  the  lower  classes" 
lay  in  the  fortitude  born  of  labor  which  is 
the  basis  of  all  value ;  that  the  artisans  were 
rightly  understood  as  a  class  by  the  old 
philosopher  who  made  them  the  base  and 
support  of  his  ideal  republic;  that,  this 
being  true,  in  their  improvement,  their  real 
education,  lay  the  prosperity  of  the  coun- 
try, or  conversely  in  their  perversion,  its 
downfall. 

Again,  the  words  of  William  Morris  re- 
curred to  the  mind  of  the  Craftsman,  this 
time  offering  a  remedy — in  his  mind,  the 
sole  and  certain  one — for  the  regeneration 
of  the  laboring  classes.  As  argued  in  one  of 
his  most  forceful  discourses,  it  is  through 
art  that  this  happy  state  is  to  be  established. 

The  utterance  is  like  that  of  a  prophet; 
Ifke  the  description  of  one  who  sees  in  dim 
vista ;  catching  only  the  salient  points  of 
the  object  upon  which  his  gaze  is  fixed,  yet 
certain  of  its  existence,  although  he  be  the 
only  one  to  descry  it.  As  such,  it  was  un- 
derstood and  accepted  by  the  Craftsman. 
He  extended  the  meaning  of  art  to  interpret 
it  as  cleanliness  and  the  beauty  which  springs 
from  it,  as  decent  and  healthful  living,  as 
work  for  the  sake  of  producing  honestly  and 
well,  as  the  fitting  of  self  to  sphere,  and 
there  remaining  content  and  hopeful. 

Yet  the  question  of  effecting  such  a  result 
seemed  of  doubtful,  if  not  impossible  solu- 
tion to  the  one  walking  in  this  tenement 
district,  dull  with  the  grime  of  railway  en- 
gines and  factories,  demoralized  by  the 
saloon  and  the  cheap  vaudeville  house.  But 
as  ideas  of  escape  are  generated  by  the  mere 


presence  of  danger,  so,  here,  the  conditions 
themselves  made  the  mind  fruitful  in  expe- 
dient. If  an  artist  had  indicated  the  solu- 
tion of  the  most  difficult  of  modern  problems, 
it  was  plain  that  the  economists  alone  could 
work  it  to  a  conclusion ;  that  the}'  onl_v  pos- 
sessed the  practicality,  the  precision  of 
method,  the  knowledge  of  the  factors  neces- 
sary' for  the  long  and  complicated  process 
before  them. 

Among  the  recollections  of  other  writings, 
the  statement  recently  made  by  a  French 
student  of  sociology,  became  dominant  in 
the  mind  of  the  Craftsman. 

This  author,  young,  earnest  and  repre- 
senting the  newest  thought  of  his  nation, 
had  asserted  that  the  workingman  was,  in 
a  measure,  responsible  for  the  evils  of  his 
condition ;  that  he  had  accepted  them  when 
he  was  powerless  to  do  otherwise,  and  had 
grown  to  believe  them  to  be  a  part  of  his 
existence.  The  statement  was  made  with 
reference  to  material  surroundings,  but  why 
could  it  not  be  extended  so  as  to  include  the 
concerns  of  the  mind,  as  well  as  of  the  body.' 
From  the  wretched  housing  of  the  artisan 
class,  all  too  general  in  his  own  country  at 
the  present  time,  the  French  writer  deduced, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  whatever  immor- 
ality, mental  dullness  and  lack  of  thrift 
exist  within  its  boundaries.  The  Crafts- 
man, as  an  American,  could  go  still  farther. 
He  could  make  the  workingman  responsible 
to  some  degree  for  the  dissatisfaction  which 
pi'oduces  among  us  those  economic  evils  of 
intense  gravity  known  as  "labor  troubles." 
For  the  thoughtful  must  recognize  that  by 
his  own  act  the  laborer  has  deprived  himself 
largely  of  the  hope  of  advancement,  and 
consequently  of  the  incentive  to  intelligent, 
enthusiastic  effort.      This  act,  furthermore. 


CHIPS 


is  not  one  wliich  can  be  partijxlly  excused 
through  its  commission  in  a  period  of  less 
enhghtenment  than  our  own.  It  is  no  relic 
of  a  measure  wliich  has  outlived  its  purpose 
and  function,  and  remains,  through  simple 
neglect  of  removal,  to  obstruct  the  workings 
of  the  actual  social  system.  It  is  of  mod- 
ern origin,  ill-advised  and  certain,  in  the 
natural  course  of  events,  to  injure  its  pro- 
jectors. It  is  that  law  of  the  trades  unions 
which  regulates  the  wage  of  workingmen : 
dividing  them  into  the  two  classes  of  ap- 
prentices and  journeymen,  and  within  these 
classes,  establishing  a  uniformitj'  of  price 
for  the  labor  of  the  skilful  and  unskilful. 
Such  a  regulation  condemns  itself,  since  it 
is  directly  against  the  higher  ideas  of 
equity.  It  may  be  said  that  as  the  world 
of  matter  abhors  a  vacuum,  so  the  world  of 
mind  abhors  the  empty  conception  of  equal- 
ity ;  that  as  one  man  differs  from  another  in 
{ihysical  advantages,  in  the  strength  and 
alertness  which  make  for  attractiveness  and 
usefulness,  so  also  there  are  various  degrees 
in  the  mental  and  manual  capacity  of  work- 
men, which  should  be  recognized  and  re- 
warded according  to  their  productive  value. 
As  a  consequence,  when  constituted  authori- 
ties fail  to  observe  these  natural  distinctions, 
the_v  remove  the  greatest  spur  to  activity, — 
that  is,  hope — from  every  individual  of  the 
class  whom  they  seek  to  benefit,  but  against 
whom  the}'  are  actuall}'  legislating  with 
injurious  and  destructive  effect.  A  dead 
level  of  wages  is  as  dispiriting  to  the  mental 
prospect  of  the  workman,  as  a  desert  waste 
to  the  physical  eye  of  the  traveler.  In 
either  case,  there  are  no  half-hidden  possi- 
bilities which  excite  interest  and  the  hope  of 
turning  their  element  of  danger  into  an 
element  of  success.    The  workingman  whose 


wages  arc  limited  by  law  or  regulation,  can 
not  fail  to  lose  his  individuality,  to  approach 
more  or  less  to  the  type  of  the  human  ma- 
chine. Unless,  as  in  rare  exceptions,  he 
iiave  in  liim  something  of  the  mediaeval 
craftsman,  some  uncontrollable  desire  to 
create  the  accurate,  the  refined  and  the 
beautiful,  he  will,  as  his  youth  leaves  him, 
grow  to  despise  his  own  skill  as  non-produc- 
tive and  useless,  at  least  in  its  finer  manifes- 
tations. His  inventive  quality,  also,  he  will 
account  as  valueless,  since  he  does  not  exer- 
cise the  right  of  ownership  over  it.  The 
small  devices  which  he  may  employ  to  light- 
en or  perfect  his  work,  the  personality  which 
he  may  impart  to  the  objects  which  he 
creates,  stand  unrecognized  in  the  economic 
world  of  which  he  is  a  productive  unit.  As 
a  result,  he  feels  aggrieved  or  indifferent. 
His  labor,  if  pursued  perfunctorily,  obtains 
the  same  reward  at  the  end  of  the  week  or 
the  month,  as  that  of  his  neighbor  at  the 
bench,  the  forge,  or  the  machine,  wlio  de- 
votes himself  to  his  task  witli  true  artist- 
enthusiasm.  He  becomes  as  sordid,  and,  were 
it  possible,  he  would  be  as  merciless  as  the 
millionaire  whose  uses  and  virtues  he  misap- 
prehends, and  in  whom  he  sees  nothing  but 
crying  faults.  He  differs  from  the  typical 
mone^'-king  only  in  his  unit  of  value:  he  sees 
in  small,  wliile  tiie  range  of  his  fancied  nat- 
ural enemy  is  unlimited  in  field  and  free 
from  obstructions. 

Therefore,  as  the  tendency'  of  labor 
unions  is  toward  a  level  of  wages,  so  this 
tendency  is,  at  the  same  time,  toward  a  stag- 
nation involving  enthusiasm  for  good  work, 
talent,  inventive  quality  and  individuality : 
a  condition  much  more  dangerous  than  re- 
volt, since  fermentation  is  but  the  process 
preparatory  to  a  new  state;  while  stagna- 


4i; 


THE   CRAFTSISIAN 


tion  and  suspended  activity  arc  the  forei'un- 
ners  of  death. 

Real  and  grave  dangers  then  threaten  the 
modern  workman, — as  real  and  grave  as  he 
imagines  them  to  be, — but  they  do  not  lie 
wholly  in  the  quarter  from  which  he  awaits 
them.  They  are  partly  of  his  own  making 
and  will  gather  strength  with  time.  He 
must  fear  himself  and  his  fellows  equally 
with  the  great  allied  forces  of  capital  which 
he  regards  as  threatening  slavery  to  the 
world's  myriads  of  toilers.  He  should 
study,  to  his  great  enlightenment,  the  course 
of  the  first  great  Revolution  of  the  people : 
learnins  from  it  the  lesson  that  an  exchange 
of  tj'rants  is  no  improvement  of  condition ; 
that  the  execution  of  the  king  and  the  abol- 
ishment of  the  court  did  not  constitute  free- 
dom for  the  revolutionists  who  fell  under 
their  own  tyranny,  and  advanced  to  frenzied 
excesses  which  could  not  have  been  imagined 
by  the  originators  of  the  movement. 

It  would  seem,  thei'efore,  reasoned  the 
Craftsman,  that  the  present  duty  of  the 
workingmaii  is  to  resist  tyranny  which 
threatens  him  in  a  three-fold  aspect:  the 
arrogance  of  capital,  the  equally  to  be 
dreaded  despotism  of  organized  labor,  and 
the  pernicious  tendencies  which,  owing  to 
the  conditions  existing  about  him,  develop 
within  his  own  brain  and  heart. 

This  train  of  thought  again  recalled  the 
French  student  of  social  science  who  has 
been  earlier  quoted.  In  the  same  luminous 
thesis,  he  observed  that  if  the  individual,  by 
reason  of  his  sole  existence,  contracts  duties 
toward  society,  so  the  latter  is  gravely  re- 
sponsible to  the  individual ;  that  every  man 
has  the  right  to  happiness,  and  that  the  first 
human  requirement,  bread  excepted,  is  edu- 
cation. 

416 


Such,  indeed,  the  truth  would  seem  to  be, 
and  such  it  must  be  confessed  by  every  just 
intellect  and  generous  heart. 

Tlic  education  of  the  workingman  must 
be  conducted  by  society  as  a  bodj",  and  not 
by  a  governing  class,  along  paths  of  peace 
and  pleasantness,  and  must  lead  to  the  old 
recognition  of  the  dignity  of  labor.  In 
place  of  discontent,  the  supporters  of  our 
fabric  of  government  must  be  given  hope 
and  the  incentive  to  reasonable  and  healthful 
exertion.  This  result  must  be  accomplished 
by  raising  the  workshop  to  its  old-time  place 
beside  the  school ;  by  placing  the  factory  in 
the  fields  whenever  it  is  possible  to  do  this, 
by  giving  the  workingman  a  separate  house 
of  which  he  may  become  the  owner,  instead 
of  leaving  him,  as  now,  to  fret  away  what 
should  be  his  hours  of  rest  and  recreation, 
amid  the  irritating,  riotous  throng  of  a  city 
tenement. 

All  this  and  more,  concluded  the  Crafts- 
man, could  be  effected  through  govern- 
mental provision  and  philanthropic  initia- 
tive. Science  in  its  application  to  the 
rapidity  and  multiplication  of  means  of 
transit  here  concurs,  as  is  usual,  with  phil- 
anthropy. The  same  is  true  of  educators  ; 
while  the  impetus  toward  civic  improvement, 
now  so  strong  throughout  the  country,  pro- 
ceeds directly  from  the  love  of  nature  and  of 
humanity.  The  ideal  conceived  by  William 
Morris  can  be  brought  to  reality,  and  civil- 
ization, contrary  to  his  fears,  is  neither  a 
mockery  nor  a  delusion. 

At  the  end  of  these  reflections,  the  Crafts- 
man realized  the  "magnificence  of  the  lower 
classes,"  as  it  will  appear  when  the  work  of 
regeneration  .shall  have  been  accomplished, 
and  the  vision  was  brilliant  enough  to  honor 
the  Christmas  season. 


I:) 


BOOK    1{K\'IKU'S 


BOOK  REVIEWS 

A  MEUICAN  Masters  of  Sculpture, 
/-%  ,  BY  Charles  II.  Caffin.  Facts  and 
criticism  x'clative  to  Ainerican  sculp- 
tors and  their  work,  until  the  present  time, 
have  largely  been  wanting.  But  now  we 
find  a  solid,  valuable  contribution  to  the 
subject  in  the  book  of  Mr.  Caffin,  the  widely 
known  critic  of  the  New  York  Sun. 

It  is  most  interesting  to  follow  Mr.  Caffin 
through  his  short  history  of  American 
sculpture  previous  to  the  epoch-making  year 
of  1876.  lie  comments  with  skill  and  pene- 
tration upon  the  Italian  influences  brought 
to  this  country  by  Ceracchi  and  prolonged 
by  the  American  artist-colonists  in  Rome 
and  Florence,  who  sent  back  to  their  mother- 
country  the  pseudo-classic,  insipid  types  so 
familiar  to  us  in  the  statues  of  the  Boston 
Athenaeum  and  of  the  Mount  Auburn  mort- 
uary chapel. 

Again,  the  critic  is  just  and  appreciative, 
when  he  says  that :  "With  only  a  few  ex- 
ceptions, all  our  sculptors  of  the  present 
generation  have  acquired  their  training, 
either  wholly  or  in  part,  in  Paris;  that  is  to 

say,  in  the  best  school  in  the  world 

For  there  is  not  a  thought-wave  in  modern 
art  that  does  not  emanate  from  or  finally 
reach  Paris.  It  is  the  world's  clearing-house 
of  artistic  currency." 

Among  the  monographs,  which  are  all 
devoted  to  contemporaneous  sculptors,  we 
naturally  first  turn  to  those  treating  Saint- 
Gaudens,  Macmonnies  and  French.  In  the 
first  of  these  sketches  occurs  a  reallv  master- 
ly parallel  instituted  between  Saint-Gau- 
dens's  statue  of  General  Sherman  and  Du- 
bois's "Joan  of  Arc."  Anoth(>r  exquisite 
piece    of    criticism    is    the    description    of 


French's  "Death  and  the  Sculptor;"  while 
thequality  of  Macmonnies's  piquant  animal- 
ism is  keenly  apprehended.  The  critic  and 
the  general  reader  will  equally  enjoy  Mr. 
Caffin's  work,  which  should  gain  for  itself 
a  European  as  well  as  an  American  reputa- 
tion. [New  York,  Doubleday,  Page  & 
Company.  Illustrated.  Pages,  234;  size 
6%  X  8%.     Price,  $3.00.] 

Belgium  :  Its  Cities.  These  two  com- 
pact, attractive  volumes  are  undoubtedly 
the  best  books  of  similar  scope  and  purpose 
which  have  as  yet  been  written  upon  the 
subject  in  English.  They  are  to  be  classed 
as  guides ;  but  the^'  do  not  seek  to  give 
practical  information  regarding  every-day 
material  conveniences.  They  aim,  in  the 
words  of  the  author,  "to  supply  the  tourist 
who  wishes  to  use  his  travel  as  a  means  of 
culture,  with  such  historical  and  antiquarian 
information  as  will  enable  him  to  under- 
stand, and  therefore  to  enjoy,  the  architect- 
ure, sculpture,  painting,  and  minor  arts  of 
the  towns  he  visits."  The  text  of  the  books 
has  previously  been  published,  but  it  is  now 
embellished  with  illustrations  which  can  not 
fail  to  please  alike  the  traveled  and  the 
untraveled.  The  work  is  accurate  in  state- 
ment and  logically  arranged.  It  includes 
a  critical  chapter  upon  the  origin  of  the 
Belgian  towns,  which  shows  wide  research 
and  much  power  of  judgment.  This  chap- 
ter lays  chief  stress  upon  industrial  and 
and  municipal  facts,  and  deserves  to  be  read 
by  all  supporters  of  the  movement  for  civic 
improvement.  [Boston,  L.  C.  Page  &  Com- 
pany. Illustrated.  Two  volumes ;  pages 
448 ;  size  4%  x  6%.     Price,  $3.00.  ] 

Japanese    Art,    hy    Sadakicui    Haut- 

4IT 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


MANN.  Tliis  is  a  small,  inviting  volume 
which  is  capable  of  doing  much  good.  As 
the  authoi'  remarks  in  his  preface,  it  is  ad- 
dressed to  that  large  class  of  persons  who 
wish  to  be  well-informed,  without  becoming 
critics  and  specialists.  Ignorance  concern- 
ning  the  principles  of  Japanese  art  is  gross 
among  us,  and  the  public  should  be  in- 
structed to  some  degree,  in  order  that  such 
expert  critics  as  La  Farge,  Fenollosa  and 
Arthur  Dow  may  no  longer  preach  in  the 
desert.  [Boston,  L.  C.  Page  &  Company. 
Illustrated.  Pages  288  ;  size  7x51/2-  Price, 
$1.60  net.] 

The  Indi.ans  of  the  Painted  Desert, 
i!Y  George  Wharton  James.  This  is  the 
work  of  an  enthusiast  who  would  willingly 
die  for  his  cause,  if  need  there  were.  The 
book  makes  appeal,  even  to  those  who  have 
no  special  interest  in  the  Far  West  and  the 
primitive  races  of  America.  In  reading  it, 
one  transfers  one's  thought  from  the  book 
to  the  writer,  in  wliom  one  recognizes  the 
temper  of  the  typical  explorer  of  a  conti- 
nent ;  a  personality  so  different  from  the 
ordinary  professional  or  business  man  as  to 
cause  admiration  whicli  rises  to  the  point  of 
reverence.  Mr.  James's  book  serves  a  pur- 
pose which  can  not  be  filled  by  the  reports  of 
the  Government  Bureau  of  Ethnology.  For 
these  are  addressed  to  students  in  science  and 
history  ;  tiiey  are  serious,  accurate  and — 
sometimes  dull;  while  the  James  book  ac- 
tually pictures  in  tlie  mind  of  the  reader  the 
things  which  it  describes.  It  has  the  fascina- 
tion of  a  romance  and  is  the  best  work  of  its 
author.  [Boston,  Little,  Brown  &  Com- 
pany. Fully  illustrated ;  decorated  cloth. 
Price,  $2.00  net.] 

•tis 


The  Art  of  the  Pitti  Palace,  by 
Julia  de  Wolf  Addison.  This  book  is 
one  of  a  numerous  class  made  possible  by 
recent  advances  in  picture-making.  It  is, 
also,  a  modern  example  of  the  guide,  which 
now  to  notes  of  information  adds  notes  of 
criticism.  The  book,  like  many  others  of 
its  class,  fills  a  useful  purpose,  by  awaken- 
ing an  interest  in  art  subjects  and  serving 
as  an  introduction  to  works  of  a  higher 
nature,  such  as  those  of  Symonds,  Morelli 
and  Berenson.  The  best  pages  of  the  book 
are  those  devoted  to  a  description  of  the 
PittI  Palace,  in  which  the  writer  shows  an 
excellent  knowledge  of  architecture  and  a 
power  of  clear  expression.  Throughout 
the  book  there  is  evidence  of  careful  research 
among  the  great  authorities ;  while  the  only 
criticism  to  be  made,  other  than  a  doubt  of 
the  tenability  of  certain  points  of  view,  con- 
cerns the  forms  of  the  Italian  proper  names 
and  words  employed,  many  of  which  are  at 
least  debatable.  [Boston,  L.  C.  Page  & 
Company.  Illustrated.  Pages  375 ;  large 
12°.      Price.  $2.00  net.] 

The  Art  Album  of  the  Intern.\- 
TiONAL  Studio.  This  is  a  volume  of  one 
hundred  exquisitely  colored  plates,  and 
drawings,  selected  rather  than  collected  from 
those  published  during  the  last  seven  years 
in  the  International  Studio.  The  album 
thus  constitutes  a  survey  of  the  progress  of 
art  limited  to  the  same  period.  It  will  be 
invaluable  to  the  young  painter,  illustrator, 
or  decorator,  as  a  liber  studiorum,  from 
which  he  may  gather  bits  of  practical  infor- 
mation upon  line,  color  and  effect.  The 
selections  of  the  plates  have  been  made  with 
much  justice.  In  the  fine  arts,  the  impres- 
sionists, as  is  right,  are  largely  represented, 


1K)()K  REVIEWS 


but  only  by  examples  of  tiie  bust  masters  of 
the  style,  such  as  Ratfaelli  and  Monet.  The 
illustrations  representing  the  decorative  arts 
are  of  beautiful  objects,  reproduced  by 
mechanical  processes  of  surprising  accuracy 
and  of  great  artistic  effect.  [New  York, 
John  Lane.     Size  7%  x  IIM;-] 

The  Genus  of  J.  .M.  W.  Turxeu.  A 
special  winter  number  of  the  Studio  is  com- 
posed of  a  selection  from  the  representative 
paintings,  drawings  and  engravings  of  the 
English  artist.  Turner.  The  j)latcs  arc 
accompanied  by  criticisms  upon  various 
phases  of  the  artist's  genius.  The  most 
interesting  of  the  papers  appears  over  the 
signature  of  the  French  mystic,  M.  de  la 
Sizeranne,  honorabl}-  known  through  the 
world  of  art  and  literature,  and  to  English- 
men  especially,  by  his  book:  "Ruskin  and 
the  religion  of  bcautj'." 

In  his  criticism  upon  the  "Oil  Paintings 
of  Turner,"  M.  tie  la  Sizeranne  accepts  tlie 
English  artist  as  the  founder  of  Impres- 
sionism, offering  in  jjroof  of  his  statement 
an  argument  constructed  with  all  a  French- 
man's logic.  He  asserts  that  his  subject 
unites  in  himself  the  qualities  of  all  the 
masters  of  his  school,  beginning  with  Claude 
Lorrain  and  ending  with  Claude  I\Ionct. 

A  further  attraction  of  this  number  of 
the  Studio  consists  in  reproductions  in  color 
of  certain  of  Turner's  masterpieces,  so  ac- 
curately made  that  in  looking  at  them,  one 
might  almost  believe  himself  to  be  in  the 
halls  of  the  National  Gallery.  [John  Lane, 
New  York.     Price,  $2.00  net.] 

The  Limebick  Uptodate  Book,  Dkaw- 
IXG  Room  Plays,  and  the  Cynic's  Calendar 
FOR  1904.  are  the  titles  of  three  small  books 


just  issued  from  the  Tomoye  Press,  San 
Francisco.  The  first  is  a  collection  of  non- 
sense rh3'mes  in  a  peculiar  and  familiar 
F-nglish  style.  It  is  illustrated  with  draw- 
ings in  red  and  black,  and  contains  a  per- 
petual calendar,  with  blank  pages  for  mem- 
oranda.     Price,  postpaid,  $1.00  net. 

Drawing  Room  Plays  is  a  series  of  hu- 
morous society  farces  by  Grace  Luce  Irwin, 
an  experienced  writer  for  amateur  actors. 
This  volume  is  issued  in  an  attractive  oblong 
form  with  rubricated  designs,  b}^  A.  F.  Wil- 
m/irth.     Price,  $1.23. 

The  Cynic's  Calendar  is  a  small  book, 
illustrated  in  I'ed  and  black,  and  containing 
a  selection  of  purposely  perverted  proverbs, 
such  as  "manj'  hands  want  light  work,"  and 
"naught  is  lost  save  honoi-."  Price,  75c. 
net.  [Paul  Elder  &  Company,  Publishers, 
San  Francisco,  Cal.] 

"In  Childhood  Land"  and  "Roger  and 
Rose,"  are  two  books  for  young  children ; 
the  first  being  written  in  verse  and  the  sec- 
ond in  sliort  prose  ])ieces.  'J'hc  illustrations 
ijy  Miss  Greenland  arc  very  pleasing;  one 
jiicture,  in  "Roger  and  Rose,"  deserving 
special  attention.  Tiiis  faces  the  story  of 
"The  First  Birds,"  and  represents  a  boy 
and  girl  sitting  upon  a  stone  wall.  It  is 
excellent  as  a  group  and  in  its  distribution 
of  lights  and  darks. 

"In  Childhood  I>and,"  by  Margaret 
Page,  illustrated  by  Katherine  Greenland. 
Price,  $1.00.  "Roger  and  Rose,"  by  Kath- 
erine Beebe,  illustrated  by  Ivatlierine  Green- 
land. Price,  $1.00.  [The  Saalfield  Pub- 
lishing Company,  Chicago  and  New  York.] 

The  a  B  C  of  PHOTO-MirHOGRAPiiY,  bj' 
W.  IF.  ^^^^lnlslcv,  is  a  manual  designed  for 


il9 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


tlie  use  of  beginnei's  in  the  art  of  which  it 
treats.  It  was  written  in  answer  to  an  im- 
perative need  among  students  for  whom 
none  but  ehiborate  works  previously  existed 
upon  the  subject.  The  present  manual  de- 
scribes methods  and  manipulations,  and 
treats  the  small  details  which,  liable  to  be 
neglected  in  advanced  treatises,  are  points 
necessary  to  the  success  of  the  operator. 
[Tennant  &  Ward,  New  York.  Illustrated. 
Price,  $1.25.] 


MEMORABLE   IN  THE  DECEMBER 
MAGAZINES 

IN  the  December  number  of  tlie  Outlook 
there  occurs  a  manly  tribute  of  friend 
to  friend,  contained  in  the  article  by 
Jacob  Riis,  upon  ''Theodore  Roosevelt,  the 
Citizen."  These  two  men,  the  high  public 
official,  and  the  free-lance  of  journalism, 
coming  from  such  different  paths  of  life, 
have  met  together  to  labor  for  the  good,  not 
only  of  our  own  country,  but  of  all  coun- 
tries,— and  their  companionship  is  of  in- 
tense significance  to  the  world. 

Out  West,  for  the  month  just  passed, 
contains  the  fourth  article  of  a  series  by 
Grace  Ellery  Channing,  in  which  the  author 
discusses  "What  we  can  learn  from  Rome," 
as  regards  the  architectural  and  landscape 
treatment  of  gardens  and  courts.  This  is 
a  timely  subject  in  view  of  the  present  inter- 
est in  municipal  art:  one  which,  if  pursued 
even  farther  than  is  indicated  by  the  author, 
will  lead  to  excellent  results.  This  is  par- 
ticularly true  with  reference  to  the  Roman 
fountains,  in  which  we  see  a  tiny  stream  so 
treated  as  to  form  an  expansive  sheet ;  while 

420 


the  American  tendency  is  to  waste  a  volume 
of  water,  spoiling  the  decorative  effect  and 
missing  the  primary  purpose  of  the  device, 
which  is  to  cool  and  refresh :  a  system  which 
lately  called  forth  the  remark  from  an  au- 
thority upon  civic  art :  "We  have  no  foun- 
tains in  America,  but  onlv  statues  that 
leak." 

The  last  issue  of  the  Pacific  Monthly 
contains  an  illustrated  article  upon  certain 
Spanish  churches  of  the  West  and  South- 
west. The  pictures  of  the  San  Xavier  Mis- 
sion, near  Tucson,  Arizona,  are  interesting 
for  purposes  of  comparison  with  the  illus- 
trations of  similar  structures  in  California 
found  in  the  article  by  Mr.  George  Wharton 
James,  which  is  printed  in  the  present  num- 
ber of  The  Craftsman. 

To  the  "House  Beautiful"  for  Decem- 
ber, Olive  Percival  contributes  a  paper  upon 
Japanese  Prints.  She  advises  that  these 
pictures  be  framed  in  narrow,  flat  bands  of 
teakwood  or  cedar,  which,  as  used  by  the 
Japane.se,  show  their  racial  respect  for  the 
natural  beauty  of  wood ;  since  they  leave  it 
unspoiled  by  varnish,  pigment  or  artificial 
polish  of  any  kind. 

The  Review  of  Reviews  publishes 
among  its  criticisms  of  the  leading  Decem- 
ber articles,  an  extended  notice  of  Mr. 
Ernest  Crosby's  discussion  of  the  question: 
'"Was  Jesus  a  Craftsman.'"'  This  paper, 
originally  printed  in  The  Craftsman  for 
November,  has  awakened  interest  which  is 
not  only  general  in  America,  but  has  ex- 
tended to  European  centers.  The  same  is 
true  of  his  monograph  upon  "Shakspere's 
Working  Classes,"  which  Count  Tolstoi  has 
latclv  rendered  into  Russian. 


NOTES 


NOTES 

THE  Massiicliusetts  Normal  Art 
School,  situated  at  Newbury  and 
Exeter  streets,  Boston,  sends  out  a 
pleasing  circular  and  catalogue  for  the  year 
1903"i.  the  thirty-first  of  its  existence. 

The  design  of  the  school  is  embodied  in 
the  following  section,  whicli  we  copy  from 
the  brochure : 

"The  Legislature,  by  an  act  passed  May 
15.  1870,  made  instruction  in  drawing 
obligatory  in  the  public  day  schools,  and 
iTijuired  cities  and  towns  containing  more 
than  ten  thousand  inhabitants  to  make  pro- 
visions for  free  instruction  in  industrial 
drawing  to  persons  over  fifteen  j-ears  of  age. 
It  was  soon  found  impossible  to  realize  sat- 
isfactorily the  benefits  intended  by  this  act, 
for  want  of  competent  teachers.  A  resolve 
was  therefore  passed  by  the  Legislature  in 
1873  providing  for  the  establishment  of  a 
State  Normal  Art  School. 

"Its  purpose  is  to  train  teachers  and 
supervisors  of  industrial  art.  To  this  end 
it  provides  advanced  courses  in  free-hand 
and  instrumental  drawing,  painting  and 
modeling,  and  their  application  to  indus- 
try." 

The  instruction  offered  by  the  school  con- 
sists of  five  elective  courses :  in  drawing, 
painting  and  composition ;  modeling  and 
design  in  the  round ;  constructive  arts  and 
design ;  decorative  and  applied  design ; 
teaching  of  drawing  in  the  public  schools 
and  methods  of  supervision. 

The  school  is  most  successful  in  its  work, 
as  is  proven  by  its  long  existence,  many  of 
its  former  pupils  occupying  positions  of  au- 
thority and  distinction. 


Professor  Charles  Zucblin  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Chicago,  offers,  for  the  coming  sea- 
son, courses  of  lectures  designed  to  further 
the  impulse  toward  civic  improvement,  wiiicli 
is  already  strongly  active  at  certain  points 
of  both  East  and  West. 

The  lectures  are  arranged  in  groups  of 
six  and  twelve  and  treat :  The  elements  and 
structure  of  society;  Work  and  wealtli ; 
Ijiglish  sources  of  American  social  reform ; 
The  American  nuinicipality ;  American 
municipal  progress;  Art  and  life;  A  decade 
of  civic  improvement.  Each  of  the  quoted 
lieads  is  divided  into  interesting  sections, 
and  each  section  constitutes  a  comjjlete  lec- 
ture. 

Professor  Zueblin,  from  his  fine  training, 
his  position  as  a  teacher  of  sociology,  and 
his  broad  human  sympathies,  stands  as  an 
authorit}-  in  his  own  field,  and  he  should 
gather  his  audiences  from  the  best  minds  of 
the  country. 

The  Circular  of  the  School  of  Industrial 
Art  of  the  Pennsylvania  Museum,  Broad 
and  Pine  streets,  Philadelphia,  is  an  inter- 
esting brochure.  The  institution  which 
issues  it,  was  founded  in  1876,  under  the  im- 
petus of  the  Centennial  Exposition.  Pro- 
viding at  first  instruction  in  the  usual  art 
subjects,  it  added,  in  1884.  courses  in  wood- 
carving  and  textile  design,  and,  further,  in 
1887,  dej)artments  of  chemistry  and  dye- 
ing; still  later,  also,  courses  in  wool  and 
cotton  carding  and  spinning. 

It  is,  therefore,  an  institution  unique  of 
its  kind,  and  one  deserving  the  patronage  of 
earnest  students. 

Another  interesting  booklet  is  one  recent- 
ly issued  by  the  Bohemia  Guild  of  Chicago. 

ill 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


This  society  is  a  non-pecuniary  corporation 
of  artists  and  craftsmen  who  are  seeking  to 
maintain  in  their  own  work  the  highest 
standard  of  excellence. 

Tlie  object  of  the  Guild  is  to  secure  for 
its  members  that  assistance  in  the  develop- 
ment of  their  work  which  comes  from  sym- 
pathetic surroundings,  and  the  intimate 
companionshij]  of  workers  whose  aims  are 
the  same. 

Each  member  bears  his  proportionate 
share  of  the  expenses  of  the  Guild;  main- 
taining his  own  studio,  or  woi'kshop,  and 
conducting  his  work  in  absolute  independ- 
ence. 

Instruction  is  given  in  the  workshops  of 
the  Guild  under  the  direction  of  the  artist 
or  craftsman  whose  special  department  of 
work  is  chosen. 

Membership  in  this  association  imposes 
no  restriction  on  the  individual,  who  may 
form  other  connections  at  his  own  pleasure. 
By  this  means,  every  advantage  of  associa- 


tion is  gained,  with  no  entailment  of  usual 
restrictions. 

The  Chicago  Journal  of  December  5,  in 
its  art  department,  contains  some  interesting 
notes  upon  a  recent  exhibition  held  by  the 
Art  Institute  of  that  city.  The  critic  notes 
with  pleasure  that  the  specimens  of  crafts- 
manship there  seen,  as  compared  with 
those  of  previous  exhibitions,  are  smaller  in 
number  and  more  accurate  in  workmanship. 
His  comments  upon  the  objects  shown  from 
the  Craftsman  shops  are  most  gratifying  to 
the  producers.  Of  the  Gustav  Stickley 
cabinet-work  he  says : 

"In  these  pieces  the  flat  surfaces  are  not 
disturbed  by  ornament,  except  the  slight 
traceries,  made  of  insertions  of  copper  and 
white-metal  lines,  combined  with  limited 
tints  of  wood-marquetry.  There  is  almost 
nothine  to  the  ornament ;  but  it  is  so  restful 
and  well  clioscn  that  every  one  will  be  grate- 
ful. On  the  whole,  this  is  one  of  the  most 
satisfying  exhibits  in  the  galleries." 


424 


li,:£iMv   XXXVIII.      Mirror:   "The  do.-ith  of  Narcissus."     Christofli-  aiul  Coinpaiiy.   Paris 

Sim-  ."'I'hr    Slh  i-rMllilli-    All."    \KV4r    Ihi 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


\ol.     V 


1"  K  H  K  L:  a  K  V      1  -.1  0  1 


X 


THE  IIISTOUV  OF  \1LLAC;F. 
nnM{()\  K.MKNT  IN  THE  UNITED 
STATllS.  n\  WAUKEN  II.  MAN- 
NIN(; 

THE  precursor  ot'  tlu'  Aimrican  vil- 
l;if>'i'  iinprovcniLiit  iiiovfinent  was 
the  early  New  Eiiyland  villa^'e 
Conimon, — the  people's  forum,  the 
center  of  tlieir  social  and  industrial  life,  a 
place  of  recreation,  and  nn  it,  at  Lexin<;t<)n, 
was  the  openinji-  act  of  that  o-reat  drama 
that  led  to  American  independence.  Early, 
especially  English,  colonists  set  a])art  liberal 
portions  of  land  to  be  used  by  householders  in 
common  for  public  landings,  jiasturage,  and 
from  which  to  secure  timber,  sedges,  and  tlu 
like, — all  under  restrictions  imposed  by  tlie 
citizens  in  town  meeting.  This  Connnon  wa> 
at  first  an  irregular  j)lot  or  a  verv  wide  street, 
around  or  along  which  the  village  grew. 
^lany  ;ire  still  retained,  sometimes  little. 
sometimes  nnich,  diminished  by  unauthor- 
ized encroachments  of  adjacent  j)roperty 
owners  or  by  the  town's  permitting  public 
or  semi-public  buildings  to  be  placed  upon 
them.  Public  landings  have  suffered  even 
more  from  private  appropriation,  and  most 
of  the  "connnon  lands"  lying  awav  from 
tlie  villages  became  "proprietary  land,"  at 
an  early  date,  by  such  acts  as  the  following: 
:\Ialden,  Massachu.setts,  in  1694,  voted:  "Yt 
ye  Common  be  divided:  bottom  and  top  yt 
is  land  and  Avood,"  and  it  was  ordered  that 
connnissioners  making  the  division  "emplov 
an  artist  to  lay  out  ye  lots."  WJiile  such 
-icts  were  legitimate,  they  were  not  always 


wise,  for  often  the  same  land  has  been  re- 
purchased for  j)ublic  use  at  large  expense. 

The  extent  of  the  illegitimate  encroach- 
ment of  private  individuals  upon  lands  re- 
served for  the  connnon  good  was  not  realized 
in  Massachusetts  luitil  Mr.  J.  U.  Harrison 
investigated  for  The  Trustees  of  Public 
Keservations  the  status  of  such  lands  in  the 
sea-shore  towns.  A  typical  cxamj)le  of  his 
linilings  will  suffice: 

".Marshfield  formerly  had  a  Connnon.  In 
earliest  times  it  was  the  training  field.  The 
town    gave  a   religious   societv    a   ])erp(tual 


Fitfurr  I.     Li-xiiiu'titii  ( 'oiiiiiKiii.  Im.') 

lease  of  a  part  of  it  as  a  site  for  its  chapel, 
and  then  ran  a  pui)lic  road  curving  diagon- 
ally through  what  remained.  During  recent 
vears  various  persons  have  obtained  permis- 
sion to  build  sheds  on  the  renuiants  of  the 
Connnon,  and  there  is  not  much  of  it  left  for 
future  ajjpropriation." 

That  street  trees  were  a|)preciated  in  the 
I'arliest  (lavs  is  evinced  by  the  a<'tion  of  a 
town  meeting  in  Watertown,  Massachusetts, 
In  1();57,  which  passi'd  a  vole  "to  mark  tiie 
shade  t  i'ee>  bv  the  roadside  uilli  a  "W"  .ind 


!.';{ 


THK    (RAFTSMAN 


HlU'ini;-  aii\  ]iri->iin  ulio  >liall  fill  ollr  of  tlir 
tries  tliiis  uiarkril  IS  >liilliiii4s."  That  this 
iiitcnst  was  CDiitiiiuDiis  is  iiiadi'  (•\i(lfnt  hv 
tlir  ;i.^v  (if  I'Xistnii;-  hoiiirstrad  anil  riiadsido 
tiTrs,  \crv  iiiaiiN  iif  uhirh  art'  brtwrrii  one 
luiiuh'eil  and  two  hundred  years  old.  This 
appri'datinn  did  nut,  however,  extend  far 
hiMiiid  the  residintial  distriets,  for  lunilnr- 
iiieii  and  fanners  \erv  oenci-.-iH^  a|i])ro]in- 
ati'd  to  their  own  iisr  all  \ahiahle  trers  on 
the  ])llhlie  \\a\s  unless  elnse  to  their  hoi'ses. 
Xotu  ithstaiidin^'     this,    there     were    always 

afi'reeahle,   if   not    alua\s   stately.   \\ Hand 

dri\es,  fin-  it  rei|iiired  from  thirty  to  fifty 
\eai's  tor  a  cro])  to  L;ri'"- 

To  the  \'illai;'e  ('oininon  oiitlvin^'  roads 
rainhled  in  hy  o'raeefiil  I'urves  o\er  lines  of 
least  i-esistance  as  estahlished  liv  Indians,  hv 
eows,  and  hv  men  of  oood  sense.  Latei', 
that  man  of  '■miieli  skill"  and  less  st-nsi',  tln' 
turnpike  engineer,  iiv  pro  lectino-  liis  roads 
on  straio'ht  lines,  re^fardless  of  jiill,  dale,  or 
water,  maiiay-ed.  at  i;'reaf  cost,  to  ruin  iinieh 
of  heautv  and  eon\  eiiienee.  jiist  as  the  road- 
biiilders  of  the  West  are  follow  in<r  st'ction 
lilies  with,  howi'ver,  the  fre(|Uent  additional 
disaiK  antau;e  of  the  zifj,'-/ao-  course  aloiii;' 
t\Mi  sides  of  each  section.  Such  I'li^'ineers 
.■ind  the  surveyor  who  m.adi'  his  jilaiis  of 
streets  .and  lots  on  p,i])er  from  |)lotted  pro])- 

ertv-lilles  ;uill  .■ingles  W  itllollt   le\  els  .■lllll  W  itll 

little  reij;.ird  to  existiui;'  siirf;u-e  conditlinis 
or  existing;-  streets,  were  then  and  .are  now 
destroyiiiij,- ore.at  hi-.-U'tv  .at  iinnecessar\'  cost. 
Ill  the  e.'irlv  il.-ivs  these  outlviiii;-  ro.ids  were 
of  liher.d  width,  usually  four,  often  ten. 
.and  sometimes  more,  rods  wide.  Such  roads 
li.a\e  .also  heeii  miicli  eiicro.ached  upon  hv 
.ad  1. 1  cent  |iri)pert  y-ow  iiers. 

'I'lie  first  checks  to  the  ])ett\'  local  Land 
and    llmlier    thieves    c.ime    when    |)erm.!iieiit 


ro.ads  were  estahlished  o\  er  which  tliev  dare 
not  re.acli  and,  more  recently,  from  the 
orowth  of  .a  ])uhlic  sentiment  ao'ainst  such 
eiua'o.achmeiits  which  they  dare  not  cli.al- 
leiio'e. 

Th.at  this  iNarly  interest  in  \ill.ao'e  iin- 
pro\eiiiiiit  was  more  jironoiinced  in  the 
older  Ivistern  St.ates,espe(a.all  v  m  New  Kuif- 
land,  tli;ili  elsewhere.  \\  .as  pi-oh.ahlv  due  to  the 
more  com]).act  .and  direct  method  of  local 
;4'o\  erimieiit  re|U'esenteil  h\  the  Xew  laii;'- 
l.aiid  to\\ii  meetino-  ,and  hv  the  antecedents 
of  the  first  settlers.  .Maiiv  causes  h.ave  con- 
trlhiited  to  the  i^a'ow  til  of  this  iiio\enient  that 
s])r.aii^-  into  heiiio-  in  the  earliest  (l.a\s,  and 
stru;^'^'led  fo|-  years  in  the  forests  of  new 
iiio\einents,  and  ao'ainst  tlii'  weeds  of  selfish 
interest,  until  it  is  now  a  sturdy  o-rowtli  with 
inaiiv  stout  hr.anclies  .and  .a  promise  of  ^'reat 
f riiitfrlness.  'i'liere  li.as  heen  .a  <;'rowni^' 
reciioaiition  of  the  distinct  utility  .and  the 
continuous  nrowth  in  he.aiitv  of  tree  .and 
shruh-pl.anted  streets  .and  piihlic  I'eserva- 
tioiis  .and  of  riir.al  ro.ads  follow  inw-  lines  siio'- 
o-ested  hy  nature.  This  oTowtli  in  heauty. 
exercising'  the  refiniiii;'  influence  th.'d  such 
ti'i'iiuth  .'dw.'tvs  does,  hi'ouo'lit  .-ihiiut  sir'Ii  a 
i|Uickeniii^-  of  ])uhlic  opinion  th.'it  uiilovi.'ly. 
untidy,  .'inil  uns.-ife  jiiihlic  and  prn.'ite 
grounds  .'lllll  puhlic  w.'iys,  once  ]).'issed  un- 
noticed, hec.'une  so  p.nnfnllv  oh\  lOiis  that 
,'ictioii  w.'is  dein.'inded.  At  the  saiin'  time 
the  Willie  of  hc'iutv.  com  elliellce.  and  s.'ifetx' 
.'IS  .'111  .'isset  w.'is  m.'ide  oli\ious  iiy  the  .-ittr.'U"- 
tneiiess  of  towns  so  f.-ivored  to  persons  of 
culture  .'ini!  me.'ins  who  were  seekino-  periiia- 
iieiit  or  slimmer  homes. 

A  first  e\idence  of  oi'fj,'ini/ed  effort  to  ]iro- 
mote  these  objects  ap])e,'ired  in  the  Aj^'i'icul- 
tur.'il  Societies  that  o-rew  out  of  the  cirlier 
"Societies  for  ProinotiiiiJ'  the  Arts."     They 


VILLAC.K    I.MrKOVKMENT 


«iiv  foniiccl  ill  Soutli  Carolina,  lViiii>_vN 
Villi iii.  and  ilassjicliusctts  a  few  years  before 
the  eiul  of  tile  eighteenth  century.  Thev 
yave  coiisiilerahle  attention  to  tlie  improve- 
ment of  home  groiiiKis,  to  street-tree  plant- 
ing, and  to  tlie  preservation  and  rcpriKhic- 
tioii  of  tile  forest.  'J'hat  of  .Alassacluisetts, 
for  example,  in  179!3,  offered  i)rizcs  to  per- 
sons who  should  cut  and  clear  the  most  land 
in  three  years,  and  for  tlie  most  expeditious 
method  of  destroying  brush  without  plow- 
ing; but  answers  of  (juistions  sent  out  at  this 
time  showed  so  alanniiig  a  decrease  in  the 
forest  areas  that  the  policy  was  reversed  ,uid 
prizes  were  offered  for  forest  })lantation> 
and  the  management  of  wood-lots.  This 
same  Society  endow ed  one  of  t he  lir^t  botanic 
gardens,  and  is  still  engaged  in  good  works. 
The  development  in  such  societies  of  the 
horticultural  interest  led,  in  the  first  half  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  to  the  formation  in 
several  States  of  horticultural 
societies  that  gave  much  more 
attention  to  these  objects  and 
occasional  attention  to  })ublic 
reservations. 

During  and  just  after  the 
same  period,  .a  number  of  hor 
ticultiiral  magazines  cami'  in- 
to being  under  the  direction 
of  such  men  as  A.  J.  Down 
ing.  Thomas  .Meehan.  and  ('. 
M.  HoM-v.  and  s(jme  literarv 
magazines,  especially  Put- 
nam's, gave  space  to  the  writers  on  village 
imjjrovement.  Then  came  the  grouj)  of 
writers  represented  by  Bryant  and  Emerson, 
whose  keen  insight  into  and  close  sympathy 
with  nature  was  transmitted  to  so  many  of 
their  readers,  and,  above  all,  Tlioreaii,  tlu' 
(iilbert  Whiti'  of  America,  with  a  broader 


point  of  view,  whose  writings  did  not,  how- 
ever, rei'eive  their  full  recognition  until 
much  later. 

In  l.S.')1,  I'resideiit  Fillmore  invited  An- 
drew .] .  Downing  to  make  and  execute  de- 
signs for  tlu'  de\clopmi'nl  of  the  ])ul)lie 
groi'iids  near  the  Capitol  and  about  the 
White  Iloust'  and  Smithsonian  Institution, 
nearly  all  ot'  which  were  completed  before 
his  tragic  dealli  in  IS.jf^.  In  1857,  Central 
I'ark  and  the  first  Park  Commission  were 
established  in  New  York.  Downing,  by  his 
writing  and  work,  initialed  the  movement 
that  led  lo  the  a((|uirement  of  Central  Park, 
but  its  plan  was  m;ule  and  executed  by  Fred- 
erick Law  Olmsted  ,uid  Calvert  \'aux.  It 
was  the  first  public  park,  .hs  disi  inguislied 
from  the  smaller  and  siinjiler  Common,  or 
the  great  wild  |).uk  "reser\ations"  of  recent 
days.  It  was  reserved  for  Mr.  Olmsted  to 
make,   in    ISS."),   Ihe  greatest    and   most  dis- 


Ki:;iirc  II.     I.<-\in:rtnii  i 'oiimi'in,  V.Hli 

tinctivelv  American  ad\.ince  in  citv  .iiid 
town  planning  in  his  design  for  the  Park 
System  of  JJoston,  lo  Ik'  followi'd,  in  18913. 
by  the  still  larger  conception  of  Mr.  Charles 
I'.liol  ill  his  n|iorl  ii|>on  .i  .Metro])olitan 
Park  system  around  the  same  city.  Hotli 
of  these  projects  have  since  been  realized. 


TIIK    CUAl   rS.MAN 


DIAGRAM  OF  THE  PUBLIC  OPEN  SPACES  OF  THE  BOSTON  METROPOLITAN  DISTRICT  IN  1899 


I'lizni-.  ill 

It  is  \iTv  sii^iiificaiit  that  two  WL-ll-inarkrd  l)v  tliu  organization  of  the  first  village  ini- 

jihases  of  (he  "inij)rovement   of  towns  and  ])rovenient  society  hy   Miss  Mary  (i.   Ho})- 

cities"  should  have  develo])ed  at  almost  the  kins,     at     Stoekhridge,     ]\Iass.,     in     185.'5. 

same    time.      First,    in    a    studied    plan    of  lv(uallv  signiticaut  as  indicating  the  inipe- 

])ulili('  grounds,  at  Wasliington  in  18,51,  to  tus  the  movement  is  to  attain,  was  the  action 

he  followed  l>y  the  acquirement  of  a  public  of  the  national  (iovi'mment  a  c[uarter  cent- 

jiark  and  the  a])])ointment  of  a  Park  Com-  urv   later   in   acquiring   groat    reservations, 

mission   in   New    York  in  1S5T.  and  second,  first,   like   the   Yellowstone   Park,    for   their 


+-.'(i 


A'illac;k  lmpiu)\'k.mk\t 

iiiitiiral  beaut  V,  then,  later,  a.s  forest  reserva-  turist,"    "IIomn's    Maon/inc,"    "I'utiianrs 

tions  for  economic  reasons,  and  such  battle-  .Alaga/ine,"    tlie    "Atlantic,"    "Harper's," 

grounds  as  that  of  (Jettysburg.  on  account  and  others.      ]\Iuch  of  tliis  writing  and  the 

of  their  historical  associations.  few  books  devoted   to  tiie  subject,  such   as 

The  first  powerful  impetus  to  village  ini-  Downing's  "Rural  Essays,"  Scott's  "Sub- 
provenient  was  given  l)y  ]}.  G.  Xoi-thrup,  urban  Home  Grounds."  and  Copeland's 
Secretary  of  the  C'onui'cticut  State  Board  of  "Counlry  Life"  had  more  to  do  ^ith  the 
Education,  who.  in  his  report  of  18fi{).  wrote  improvement  of  home  grounds  than  with 
upon  "How  to  Beautify  and  Buihl  up  Our  town  ))ianning.  It  was  reserved  for  Mr. 
Country  'I'owns,"  an  article  wiiich  he  states  Ciiarles  Mulford  R()i)ius()ii  in  his  very  recent 
was  received  with  ridicule.  He  thereafter  "Improvement  of  Towns  and  Cities"  and 
for  years  wrote  nuich,  lectured  often,  and.  ".Modern  Civic  .\rt"  to  give  a  j)erman(Mit 
before  1880  had  organized  not  less  than  one  jilace  In  our  literature  to  that  phase  of  the 
hundred  societies  in  the  New  l^ngland  and  uork  of  town  and  city  impro\eini-iit,  al- 
Middle  States.  His  writings  were  ])ub-  though  Bu^hnell.  Olmsted,  and  others  con- 
lished  by  the  daily  papers,  and  the  "New  tributed  to  the  subjects  in  reports,  niaga- 
York  Tribune*'  republished  and  offered  for  zines.  and  published  addresses, 
sale,  in  1891,  at  three  dollars  per  hun<lred.  During  this  same  |)eriod  a  broader  and 
his  "Rural  Improvement  Associations,"  deeper  inti'rest  iii  f"orcstrv  and  tree-])lant  ing 
which  he  first  published  in  1880.  It  is  in-  was  stinudated.  especially  in  the  Middle 
teresting  to  note  some  of  the  objects  esjie-  AVest.  by  such  men  a-i  John  .\.  Warder,  of 
cially  touched  upon  in  this  pamjihlet:  "To  Ohio,  and  (jovernor  J.  Sterling  Morton  of 
cultivate  public  spirit  and  foster  town  pride,  Nebraska,  at  whose  suggestion  Arbor  Day 
quicken  intellectual  life,  promote  good  fel-  was  first  observed  in  his  State,  and  there 
lowship,  public  health,  improvement  of  ofiic'ially  recognized  in  18T'2.  By  the  ob- 
roads.  roadsides,  and  siiK'walks.  street  lights.  >er\ance  of  this  day  a  nndtitude  of  school- 
public  parks,  improvement  of  home  and  children  and  their  parents  have  become  in- 
home  life,  ornamental  and  economic  tree-  terested  in  tree  ))lanting  on  home  and  school 
planting,  improvement  of  railroad-stations,  grounds.  For  this,  Mr.  .Morton  deserves 
rustic  roadside  seats  for  pedestrians,  better-  the  same  recognition  that  belongs  to  ^Ir. 
nient  of  factory  surroundings."  Other  men  Clapp  and  the  Massachusetts  Horticultural 
active  in  the  movement  during  this  period  Society  for  the  beginning  and  ])romotiMg  of 
were  B.  I^.  Butcher,  of  West  Virginia,  and  the  e(juallv  lm])ortant  school-gar<leri  move- 
Horace  Bushnell,  in  California.  ment. 

That  tin's  activity  made  its  impress  upon  Little  do  we  ap])r(ciate  to  what   Dr.  \\  ar- 

the  literature  of  the  day  will  I)e  evident  to  der's  forestry  movinunt  has  led  in  the  West, 

those  who  read  "Village  iind  \'illage  I,ife."  It  has,  by   its  encouragement   of  homestead 

by  Egleston.  "^ly  Days  at  Ifllewild."  by  N.  ])lantations,  greatly  modified  the  landscape 

P.  Willis,  anfl  to  those  who  search  the  files  of  the  vast  central  ])rairie  region  of  our  con- 

of  the  "New  York  Tribune"  and  "Post'' and  linent.      What  was  an  endless  and  nionoto- 

thi-   "Boston   'i'ranscript."    "The   Horticul-  nous  sea  of  grass  is  now  a  great  jirocession 


thp:  chaftsman 


of  e\ cr-clian^'iiii;'  \  i--t;i^  hcfwccii  groups  of" 
tiTuN.  It  lia>  nj.Milfed  in  our  Government's 
e--talilisliiiio-  Hftv-tlirec  reservations  contain- 
ing >i\tv-two  million  acn-s  of  jiuhlic  forests 
managed  l)_v  an  efficient  department,  in  cs- 
talilishing  state  forest  commissions  and  res- 
erxation-.,  in  flic  formation  of  national,  state 
and  local  fore^frv  associations,  manv  of 
wiiii'li  gi\e  (|nite  as  nnicli  attention  to  the 
forest  as  an  element  of  lirauty  in  landscape 
and  to  tlie  presrr\afion  of  roailside  groufli 
and  encouragement  of  public  anil  private 
tree-planting  for  licautv  alone,  as  tliey  do  to 
the  econoiiiic    prolilems.       In   ^Massachusetts 


I        II  ~rr 


such  an  association  secured  laws  placing  all 
town  roadside  growth  in  charge  of  a  Tree 
\\'ardcii.  'i"hc  impiu'taiice  of  a  centralized, 
instead  ot'  the  individual  property-owner's 
control,  of  street  trees  is  recei\'ing  general 
recognition.  ,Mr.  W \\\.  V .  (iale,  the  C'itv 
Forestir  of  Springfield,  ]Mass.,  by  his  en- 
listment of  school  children  as  street  tree  de- 
fenders, has  show  11  how  (.'eiitrah/ed  control 
ma\   greativ  stiiniilate  iiidi\idiial  interests. 

A  little  later  ill  this  period  there  began  to 
flow  from  the  pens  of  siicli  men  .as  Hamilton 
(iibsoii,  IJr.idford  'I'orrev,  .Tolm  ISurrows. 
.John  .Miiir,  .and  I'.niesf  'riioinpson  Setoii,  a 
+  ?s 


literature  that  has  drawn  the  people  so  close 
to  n.ature  that  they  are  seeing  and  feeling 
kceiilv  the  beaiitv  of  the  common  things 
right  .about  them,  .and  drawing  ,awav  from 
the  meagri'iiess,  garishness,  and  convention- 
ality of  the  lawns  and  lawn  planting  of  the 
Jieriod  tli.af  followed  the  decline  of  the  rich, 
old-f.ishioned  g.ardeii  of  our  grandmothers, 
.anil  began  with  the  \iilgar  "bedding-out" 
craze  that  followed  displ,a\s  .ut  the  Philadel- 
jihi.a  ('eiiteiiiii.al.  Then  c-iiiie  the  World's 
r'air  at  Chicago,  whei-e  m.anv  men  of  many 
arts  worked  earnesth-  in  h.irmonv.  .as  thev 
h.ad  never  done  before,  to  jiroduce  an  h.ir- 
mcniioiis  result.  This  bringing  together  of 
.artists  in  the  m.aking  of  the  Fair,  gave  a 
treiilelldoivs  iiiipetus  to  ci\  ic  illld  village  im- 
|iio\emeiit  .'icfix  ities,  in  common  with  all 
others. 

The  American  Park  and  Outdoor  Art 
Association,  org.anized  in  Louisville  in  1S!)7. 
.and  giving  speci.al  .■itteiition  to  the  ])ublic 
park  interests,  w.as  the  first  n.ational  associa- 
tion representing  the  interests  under  review. 
In  1  !)()0.  the  .\niericaii  I.e.ague  for  Civic 
Ini|ii'o\  eiiieiil  w.as  foniied  .at  Sprmgtield  to 
gi\e  speei.'d  .■itti'iit  ion  to  niiprox  eiiient  ;isso- 
ci.ations.  in  the  jiroiiiotion  of  which  it  has 
been  most  efticieiit.  The  League  for  Soia.d 
Service,  of  New  York,  is  another  most  effi- 
cient assdciatimi  working  along  similar  lines, 
hut  gning  more  .attention  to  sociological 
subjects.  This  vc.ar  the  first  State  associa- 
tion of  \illage  improveineiit  societies  w.as  or- 
ganized in  Massachusetts.  The  .\ssociation. 
first  referred  to.  invited  representatives  of  .all 
ii.ation.il  .associations  having  simil.ar  objicfs 
in  \  lew  to  attend  its  Hoston  Meeting  in  190'2. 
where  the  .action  t.aki  n  resulted  in  the  f'orm.i- 
tioii  of  the  ('i\ic  Alli.ance.  to  be  geiier.al 
cle.iring-hoiisi'    for    .all    .activities    and    ideas 


\  ll-LA(.K    l.MPl{()\  K.MKXT 


rcpresoiitfd  l)_v  tliosi-  various  associations. 
The  leadiTs  of  the  first  two  associations, 
feelini;'  that  j^reatcr  ctficiiiicv  coulil  lie 
secured  l)v  workiny;  totietlier,  have  taken  ac- 

•  rs        r^ 

tion  toward  a  nier<>-er,  tlie  followino-  sectii)ns 
being  siitrgested  for  tlte  new  association  : 

Arts  and  (rafts. 

C'itv  ^lakinj;'  and  Tow  n  Iniprovt'inent. 

Civic  -Vrt. 

Factory  Betterment. 

Libraries. 

Parks  ami  l'iil)h"c  Restr\ations. 

Propaganda. 

Public  Nuisances. 

Pi'bHc  Recreation. 

Raih'oail  Improvement. 

Rural  Improvement. 

Scliool  E.xtensioii. 

Social  Settlements. 

\Vomen"s  Clul)  Work. 

The  .National  Federation  of  Women'- 
Clubs,  with  its  membershij)  of  over  2!}(),()()(). 
has  done  nmch  to  improve  towns  and  citie-- 
through  its  local  chibs.  How  important 
this  women's  work  is  can  i)r  known  oiilv  in 
those  who  can  appreciate  with  what  moral 
courage,  enthusiasm,  and  self-denial  women 
will  take  up  new  interests,  and  how  often  one 
woman's  persistency  and  ])ersuasiveness  is 
the  impelling  force  behind  im])»rtant  move- 
ments for  the  public  good. 

One  of  the  best  evidences  that  beauty  and 
good  order  pay,  is  given  by  the  action  of 
railroad  corporations  throughout  the  coun- 
try, which  have,  by  the  im|)rovemcnt  of  tlieir 
station  grounds  and  right-of-way.  created 
everywhere  a  sentiment  in  favor  of  village 
ini})rovenicnt.  !Many  roads  employ  a  large 
force  of  men  to  care  for  grounds,  and  one. 
tlie  Seai)oard  Air  Line,  employs  and  finances 
an  industrial  agent.  ^Ir.   John  T.   Patrick. 


«lio  has  established  experiuiLiital  farms  at 
stations,  imjjroved  all  station  grounds,  main- 
t.iined  a  scliool  on  wheels  with  twehe  in- 
stn'ctors  in  improved  farming,  road-mak- 
ing, gardening,  and  the  like,  and  has  agents 
in  towns  to  organize  improvcinent  societies, 
distribute  good  hooks  •■iiid  pamplilits,  .nid 
othi'rwise  promote  the  work. 

The  I'nited  States  Government  is  issuing 
numerous  bulletins  that  relate  to  village  im- 
j)rovement  work,  and  it  recognized  tlu'  im- 
})ortance  of  the  school  garden  !no\cment  bv 
sending  a  special  re])resentative.  ]\Ir.  Dick 
.1.  (i-osby,  to  the  School  (iarden  Session  of 
the  American   Park  and  Outdoor  Art   .\sso- 


l-'iu'iirt-  \'.     Newton  Hitrtil:" 
(listaiu't 


ciaticHi  at  its  Boston  meeting.  The  Nation 
al  Kducational  Association  also  devoted  a 
session  to  the  same  subject  at  its  last  meet- 
ing. .\mong  i?ni\(rsitiis.  Cornell  has  done 
great  good  in  establishing  courses,  and  in 
sending  out  pamphlets  on  the  im]>rovement 
of  home  and  school-grounds,  chietlv  under 
the  direction  of  Professor  I..  II.  Bailey. 
Through  this  same  agency  "I'ncle  .John" 
Sjiencer  has,  by  k'tters  to  and  frctm  a 
nndtiludc  of  children,  brought  them  to  learn 
nuich  about  the  objects  in  their  evcrv  dav 
lifV,  bv  dr.iw  iiig  out  their  powers  of  oiisc  rva- 


i.'fi 


THE    CliAFTSMAN 


tiim,  ivasDiiiny,  .■uiil  (■\|)i'r-.>iiiii.  (Juitr  as 
important  nrv  tin-  lu'w  spapi  tn  ami  inan'a- 
zines.  Thev  are  yiviiiy  miicli  space  to  tlie 
inoveiiieiit.  and  otf'rrini;-  prl/e-.  for  good 
«(>rk.  The  '■( 'liicago  'rril)iiiie""  not  only 
ottered  prizt's  in  tSDl.  hnt  ga\e  a  })age  or 
more  to  niipro\  cment  work  tor  sewral 
montlis  in  sueeession.  'i'lie  "AoiltlTs  Com- 
})anion""  has  not  only  gi\en  s])ace  to  the 
work,  l)ut  has  Milt  out  thousands  of  jiani- 
])hkts  on  \illage  improvement  of  sehool 
gnjunds.  "(iarden  and  Forest."  during  its 
time,  was  a  powerful  ageiu'V  of  the  llighest 
order  under  the  direction  of  ]'rofess(n' 
Charles  S.  Sargent,  and  with  ?>Jr.  W.  A. 
Stiles  as  editor.  Of  the  existing  j)iil)l!ca- 
tions,  "Country  Life  in  ,\nierica."  "Park 
and  Cemeterv,"  "Amei'ican  (iardening,'" 
"The  House  Heaiitiful,"  "Honse  and  (Tar- 
den."  "Home  and  Flowers,"  "Tlie  Chautau- 
(juan,"  und  others,  give  a  large  share  of  tlieir 
space  to  iiniirovemeiit  work. 


lip 

f^ 

I'i-iM-:'    \'I        I\ili'i(M-i;ai-I'-li    ;ir    M-'lM-lllMtlir 

Since  tile  apjiointment  of  a  I'ark  Com- 
mission ill  New  ^dl■k  to  tiiaki'  and  administer 
.■I  ]i.-irk  for  the  people,  iiearK'  everv  large 
city  and  maiiv  iowiis  ha\c  their  I'ark  Coiii- 
iiiis>ioii  and  jiiilihc  ]iarks,  and  the  responsi- 
hlhtles   of   -.ucli    comiiiis-,|oiis   lia\e   increased 


so  greatly  as  to  ini'lude  systems  of  park•^  and 
parkways  for  a  single  city,  as  outlined  by 
i\Ir.  Olmsted  in  I880  for  Boston,  on  lines 
governed  by  topographical  features,  a.s  dis- 
tinguished from  a  similar  system  goyerned 
by  an  arbitrary  rectilinear  plan  of  streets  as 
outlined  by  the  .-.ame  man  in  his  plan  of 
Chicago. 

The  next  >t.age  was  a  system  of  parks, 
parkways,  and  great  wild  reservations,  in- 
cluding many  towns  ,and  parts  of  several 
counties,  as  outlined  by  Mr.  Charles  Eliot  in 
his  scheme  for  a  iNIetropolitan  Park  system 
aliout  Boston,  a  project  similar  to  that  taken 
iij)  in  the  ]'',ssex  Comity  Park  System  in  New 
Jersey  at  a  later  date.  States  also  are  ac- 
((uiring  land  to  preserve  natural  beauty, 
such  as  ill  the  \Vachusett  and  (iraylock 
mountain  reser\ations  in  i\Ias,>achusetts ;  for 
their  hist(n-ic  \alue,  as  at  \'a]|ey  Forge  in 
Pennsyhania ;  for  the  jiroteetion  of  the 
drainage  basin  to  a  I'itv  water  siijjply.  as  in 
New  ^■ol■k  and  Massachusetts; 
for  a  game  and  forest  pre- 
ser\i',  a--  in  Minnesota.  Two 
States  have  cooperated  in  tlie 
ac(|uirement  of  a  reservation 
for  beauty  alone,  as  at  the 
Dalles  of  the  St.  Croix,  lying 
partly  in  ^linnesota  and  part- 
ly ill  \Visconsin,  and.  further- 
more, commissions  under  two 
go\  ermiieiits  have  cooperated 
in  accomplishing  the  same 
jiurpose  at  the  Niagara  Flails 
Heser\  ation. 

As  an  outcome  of  all  this,  wi^  may  look  for 
the  establishment  of  State  Park  Commis- 
sions, already  suggested  in  iMassachusctts. 
and  for  which  a  bill  was  inti'oduced  into  the 
^Minnesota     leifislature.     ami    ultimately     a 


•WO 


\  ILl.AC.E    1MP1U)\I:.MIA  r 


National  Park  t'ommissioii  to  tic  togetlicr 
the  <>;ri'at  national,  state,  count v,  city,  and 
town  public  lioidings  that  will  include  such 
doniinatin<;-  hindscape  features  as  moun- 
tains, river-i)aid\s,  steep  slo])es.  and  sea  and 
lake  shores:  land  for  the  most  ])art  of  little 
value  for  conmiercial,  industrial,  or  agri- 
cultural purpose's,  i)ut  of  frreat  value  as 
elements  of  beautiful  landscapes.  'I'he 
selection  of  such  lands  will  ultimately  be 
f^overned  lari^'elv  bv  natural  and  li\  eco- 
nomic conditions  as  established  bv  sucii 
bureaus  as  that  of  Soil  Investifjation  of  the 
(Jovernmint.  which  is  eno;a<>;efl  in  invcsti- 
fjjatint;'  .and  maj)])inn'  soil  conditions,  as  well 
as  bv  the  Forestrv  Hureau  alreadv  referred 
to,  and  others. 

.\lreadv  railwavs.  the  main  arteries  of 
such  a  system,  make  it  possible  to  reach 
already  established  nudcii  of  a  vast  Na- 
tional Park  System,  represented  by  such 
landscape  re.^ervations  as  the  national  parks 
of  "Mi.  Rainer.  Yellowstone,  ^'osemite,  Gen- 
eral Grant,  and  Se<|uova.  and  by  the  forest 
reservations  in  thirteen  of  the  Western 
States  already  refernd  to.  \\"liile  in  the 
beginning,  the  only  consideration  of  railw.iy 
companies  was  the  acijuiremcnt  of  .i  suffi- 
cient right-of-way  upon  which  to  transact 
tiieir  business,  thev  are  now  improving 
rights-of-way  by  planting  station  grounds 
and  slopes,  and,  furthermore,  are  acipiiring 
considerable  tracts  of  land  almost  wholly 
for  its  landscaj)e  value,  as  seen  from  ])rinci- 
pal  view-points  along  their  lines. 

.\uxiliary  to  the  steam  roads  that  tie 
cities  together,  arc  tiie  systems  of  electric 
roads  that  are  ])ushing  from  these  cities  into 
the  country  with  incredible  speed,  and  our 
public  highway  .sy.stem,  long  neglected,  but 
now  being  extensively  imj)roved  throiigli  a 


(iood  Roads  Movement  inaugurated  bv  tiu- 
bicvclists,  and  to  be  further  ])romoted  bv 
the  automobilists.  This  (iood  Roads 
.Mo\enuiit  has  already  progressed  so  far  as 
to  induce  sevi'ral  States  to  appoint  commis- 
sions whose  dutv  it  is  to  see  that  a  connect- 
uig  system  of  good  roads  is  securi'd 
throughout  the  State,  and  ultimately  across, 
the  continent.  With  the  advent  of  efficient 
automobiles,  vehicles,  and  boats  for  tin- 
mult  iti'de.  such  means  of  connnunicut  ion 
will,  together  with  water-ways,  make  jicces- 
sihle  every  nook  and  corner  of  our  vast 
domain.      At  present,  large  areas  of  private 


iML-un'  \'ll.     M.,, 


ll.i.lk-y.  .Mas 


pr()|)erty,  many  lakes,  rivers,  and  some  sea- 
shore, now  in  private  hands,  are  opened  to 
the  |)ubllc  without  restriction:  but  with  an 
increase  in  jjojiulation  and  in  land  values, 
the  public  will  be  shut  out  from  all  ])oints  of 
vantage  that  are  not  held  for  the  connnon 
good,  as  it  is  now  excluded  from  many  miles 
of  sea-and-lake-shore  by  })rivate  owners, 
where  a  few  years  ago  there  were  no  re- 
strictions. 

The  work  of  till'  \illage  improvemeid 
societies  should  be  diri'cted  toward  this 
movement  to  make  our  whole  country  a 
))aik.  Thev  should  sfoj)  the  encroachment 
of   individuals   upon    ])ublic  holdings,   urge 


THE    CUAl  TS.MAX 

individuals  tii  .-idd  to  m'cK  lioidiiin's  bv  j;'it'ts  tlic  miu  i;'()t  iii^-Ji  and  tlii'  little  hootlis.  their 
of  land,  tine  old  trees,  or  grou})s  of  old  inoriiini;"s  work  done,  were  folded  awav 
trees,  in  prominent  positions,  in  town  or  city  silently  as  the  whitt'  unil:rellas  that  had 
laruKeajies.  ]'",\erv  assoeiation  should  se-  jU'ohalilv  covered  them,  the  s(ji'are  became 
cure  and  adopt  a  plan  for  the  future  dcvcl-  a  bare  and  lonely  place  unless — as  was  like- 
opment  of  the  town  as  a  whole,  showing  ly  to  be  the  cast — a  fountain  l)ubl)led  gar- 
street  extensions  and  [)ublic  reservations  to  rulously  in  its  center.  Then  the  fresh  run- 
include  such  features  in  such  a  wav  that  iiiiig  water  established  a  social  rendezxous. 
the\'  nia\'  become  a  ])art  of  a  more  extended  and  about  it  there  was  gossij)  enough  to 
svsteiii,  if  this  should  i)e  brought  about  in  ex})lain  the  laughter  and  nnittering  of  the 
the  future.  'l'he>e  societies  shoi'.ld  not  iin-  fountain  long  afti-r  the  town  had  gone  to 
<lirtak<'  the  legitimate  work  of  town  ofti-  sleej).  On  rainy  d;iys  a  new  \  aluc  a})peared 
ci.als,  such  as  street-lighting,  street-tree  in  the  open  s])ace,  for  jjcopk'  scurried  across 
])lanting,  rej)air  of  roads  .and  sidewalks.  it  like  leaves  before  the  wind.  Usually  thi'V 
Thev  should  compel  the  authorities  to  do  hugged  the  sides  of  the  s(|uare,  where  there 
such  work  propi'rlv,  bv  gathering  informa-  were  arcades  or  .aw  nings  to  keep  off  the  siui, 
tion  and  securing  illustrations  to  show  how  shop  windows  to  look  into,  and  plenty  of 
much  better  similar  wt)rk  is  being  done  in  friends  to  talk  to;  but  when  the  rain  came 
othei-  places,  very  often  at  less  cost.  They  ;uid  there  was  reason  to  hurry,  the  s(|uare 
should  inaugurate  actixities  of  which  little  offered  short  cuts  th.at  were  eagerly  availed 
In   know  n   in  their  comnuinity  :   such   as  the  of. 

im]>ro\ement   of  school   and   home   grounds.  There   were   some   who   thought    th.at    the 

.iiiil  the  e>tablishment  of  school-gardens  and  o])en  spaces  of  a  city  ceased  to  be  :i  neces- 

pLivgrounds.       If  the  jiohcy  of  such  a  soci-  sitv   when   the  markets   were  dri\en   indoor^ 

et\   be  not  broad  enough  to  adnnt  tin.'  activi'  or  to  (.'specially  designated  are;is,  when  fresh 

cooper.ations  of  the  ablest   men   and   Mcijinn  u.ater  w.as  carried   into  e\ei-y   house  by   un- 

of  a  town,  it  can  accomplish  but  little.       If  dtrgrouiid  jnpes,  and  the  sijLiare  seemed  to 

its   methods   are   not   so   administered  as   to  have    no    value    save    that    of    occasionally 

instri,:i-t  up  to  the  highest  ideals,  its  efforts  shortening  one's  journey,  if  one  were  weary, 

are  (|uite  as  likelv  to  be  a^  harmful  as  btne-  It  did  look  forlorn  and  dre.arv.      Then  there 

fit'i.al.  were  planned  new    cities  and   ji.arts  of  cities 

without  open  spaces. 

(■()X(T,UNT\(;  OI'KX  SPACES  Hut  vast  areas  of  regularly  j.lotted  street- 

became  monotonous.      Then   arose  the  wish 

f   H   '^  1 1 1'^   open    spaces   (if   ;i   cit\    ,are,   or  to  beautify  cities,  to  bring  stateliness   into 

I          should  be,   its  ornaiiients.      I'his  is  the  business  district   and  the  soft   touch   of           I 

Jfl^         a   new    rule   in   city-building,   a   re-  Nature    into    the    regions    where   the   homes           I 

quiremeilt    that    was    not     made    in  were.      The  oj)portunities  of  the  scjuare  for 

the  old  days  of  civic  art  when  the  creation  this  were  jjerceived  and  seized, 

of   an   o])en    s|iace   meant    the   establislmient  — Modern  Civic  Art. 

of  .an  outdoor  market.      In  tliose  times  when  C'linrlrs  Miulfonl  Uohinsioii. 


4:j-2 


I 


S1L\  I.USMITHS    AKT 


'IIU:  S1L\  KRS.MITirs  AK|-  IN  CDN- 
TE.Ml'ORAKV  IKANCK.  MV  .JEAN 
SCHOl'iEK.      TRANSLATED    1R0:\I 

THE  FRi:\(  II  BY  1R1",\E  SAIU.EVT 

WE  I'.ue  t|-;(\irsc(l  srvi'li  fi-iit- 
urlc^  of  the  jiistoi-y  of  the 
"^-oidsinitli's  art :  cx;uiiiiun<i'  on 
our  p.issayo  the  most  niiiark- 
abk'  works  of  the  .Midilli-  A<rrs.  tile  Renas- 
centv,  till'  sevt'iitoc'iitii  and  eigliteenth  cent- 
uries. Wi'  now  a|)prnacli  our  own  times 
and  our  conclusion. 

W'c  pass,  uitliout  slackening'  our  pace, 
throu>)|i  almost  the  entire  extent  ot'  tlie 
nineteenth  century,  wliich  will  liokl  an  un- 
important place  in  tlie  history  of  tlu'  deco- 
rative arts.  The  <>'reatest  kindness  that  we 
can  show  to  this  period  is  to  remain  silent 
c<)ncernin<>'  it.  Let  it  remain  hunii)le  ami 
mot'e-t  as  it  ou^'ht  : 
for  it  constnnmated 
the  I'inil  of  the  deco- 
l"ati\e  arts  u  hose 
lonii'-suspended  ani- 
mati(ni  we  are  to-day 
^tru<r<rlin(;'  to  I'estore. 
If  we  cast  a  swcc)) 
ini;'  ^-lance  over  the 
^.■mr-iBW  silversmith's   work   of 

■  Bj^   !.__       the     seven     centuries 

■  He 
MHItQCT^'J     wnicii     we     liave 

■  loffBRNi  ^'•^'"i''''  "■^'  ^i^'''  that, 
in  the  Middle  A<res. 
it  shov.s  a  jierfection 
which  ha.s  never  since 
heen  ef|''aled ;  that, 
further,  art  was  then, 

as  we  wish  th.at  it  were  now,  witliiii  the 
I'eacli  of  all.  Tlien  it  did  Tiot  exist  ex- 
clusivelv   for  the   rich,  as   it   has  done  since 


the  Renascence.  A  ri>])ect  for  art  heau- 
tified  the  most  humlile  ohjects.  Ri^side, 
tile  artist  chose  and  clurishrd  themes  whicli 
"ere  familiar  to  all.  .\  {'hri.stian,  workinfj; 
for  Christians,  he  found  in  the  (Jospels  and 
the  Li\ts  of  the  Saints,  suhjects  of  whicli 
every  oni'  understood  the  siirnificance  and 
felt  the  emotional  powir.  .\nd  as  to  orna- 
ment pro))er,  it  was  always  drawn  from  the 


I'ltrui'r  I  a.  Kfliniiar.'.  <>] 
tin-  Crown  of  TIiMrii^  : 
Notre  Oiinii'.  l*ari'<.  I)«*- 
sieiiiil  li.v  Violli-t-li'-Iliir. 
E\ciMlt<-i|  hy  l*oiissii-lt;iii' 


■Iffiir.-  I  I..      K.-I|.|iriry.      I  (,-~i^'i»-.|   liV   \  |..ll.  I  1.    I  J:ir 
KxcriittMl  hy  I'oussicltrin" 


flora  of  the  surronndin;;-  country.  Wood, 
meadow  .md  f>-arden  |)ii)videil  the  foliage, 
j)lants  and  flowers  from  which  the  artist 
dre«   the  <lec()rative  element  of  his  works. 

Ll  the  Renascence,  as  we  ha\e  seen,  a 
radical  chaiif^-e  oi'curred.  'I'he  subjects  of 
works  of  art  were  drawn  from  classical 
sources,  and.  therefore,  were  understood  hv 
compai'.itivily  t\\\  ])ersons.  Ornament  it- 
self ceased  to  he  svmjiathetic  with   Nature. 


l:« 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Tlic  (kcorative  motifs  hccauie  scrolls  of  loxed  hy  every  one,  rich  or  poor,  serf  or 
Roiiiaii  iicantlius,  the  egg-and-dart  pattern,  noble.  Tiicv  became  articles  of  useless  dis- 
frcts.    dentals,    Roman    pearls,    and    other      pl^iv.      Nevertheless,  manual  skill,  delicacy 

(if  execution,  the  l()\e  of  the  craft  and  of 
lionest,  accurate  metiiods,  the  taste  for  artis- 
tic things,  still  survived  in  the  cor])orations. 
In  the  ninetecntji  Ceiiturv  what  remained 
of  all  that  ?      Nothing. 

The  corporations  were  dissolved  by  the 
Revolution,  and  the  craft-ti'aditions  lost. 
'J'lie  I'ich,  who  alone  sustained  the  art-indus- 
ti'ies,   tlu'ii   become   the   servants   of   luxury. 


I'iiriiri' II.     KcliquMrii  N  ill  uildiil  copirii-:  Xotn- Daiiie. 
Paris.      I)isi!,'ii.(l    liy  Vi<i|l,t-k-l>uc.      Exci-uted  by 

I'nU'^sifliJue 

classical  designs.  But  a  more  serious  thing 
occurred,  when  art,  in  assuming  an  ruitifpic 
form,  deserted  the  peo])le,  ni  order  to  become 
.aristocratic,  and  thus  effected  the  most  dis- 
.■istrous  change  that  it  has  ever  suffered. 
Henceforward,  art  was  destined  to  be  a  sya- 
onvm  of  luxury.  It  was  to  exist  for  the 
rich  alone.  The  jioor  were  to  l)e  deprived 
of  its  sootihng  jiresence.  Thus,  tliere  nrVQ 
funned  s])ecial  c'entei's  or  foci,  where,  as  by 
artificial  incubation,  works  of  art  were  scien- 
tifically j)roduced.  Therefore,  it  is  clear  why 
these  objects  no  longer  could  ]ios>ess  that 
radi.iuce  wliich  \\as  their  cliai-actii'ist ic  in 
till'  ^Iidillc  Aiii->,  when  tlie\    were  seen  and 


Fitful''-  III.     lu-liqiiary  <T"i 


Catlicilral  of  Sens 


I).- 


siiriir.l   l.y    \i"lllt-l.-l)Ui-.      Kxi-i'lltfd    liy    fiilissiplijuc 

were  disjiersed.  The  ])eo}ile  had  long  pre- 
\iouslv  forgotten  that  art  should  lie  within 
the  reach  of  all.      .\fter  the  violent  crisis  of 


•t:u 


SILN'KRSMITIIS    ART 


tlie  Kevolution,  a  new  society  fonued.    Lux-  At  present,  il'  a   fork  aiKl  spoon  lie  <ie- 

urv,  since  it  was  tlie  sole  means  by  wliicli  art      sio-ned,  it  is  not  with  tlie  intention  of  niak- 
could  be  saved,  revived.      But  there  arose  a       ing  several  do/eiis  of  tjuni.  according;'  to  a 

model  wiiicii  will  be  the  exclusive  proj)ertv  of 
a  sin<rle  ))erson.  Katlier,  it  is  with  the  pur- 
))osc  of  jiroducinji;  several  thousand  copies, 
wliieli  uill  l)e  >old  throughout  Kurope  and 
in  the  otiier  four  quarters  of  the  world, —  in 
Huenos  Ay  res,  in  Cairo,  in  Sidney,  Hombay 
and  New  York  :  since  to-day,  there  are  pur- 
chasers e\erywhere.  and  purchasers  who  .are 
not  fastidioL's  as  to  the  artistic  merit  of  the 
objects  which  they  ac<juire.  Provided  that 
these  objects  ai)])ear  to  be  artistic,  they  ask 
for  nothing  more.  If  the  making  of  so 
many  thousand  pieces  of  table  ware  were  to 
be  attemj)ted  by  hand,  it  would  be  an  endless 
task.    Hut  tile  genius  of  industrialism,  which 


Fi::nrr 


IV.    Shrine;  SiuTod  Heart.  Paris,  by  Pons- 
sicla-iK— Ru-.aiicl 


new  element  which  was  to  crusii  out  whatever 
life  remained  in  the  applied  arts.  'J'his  ele- 
ment was  industrialism.  The  development 
of  connncrce  and  manufactures  raised  to 
atHuence  new  and  numerous  social  strata. 
When  there  was  an  aristocratic  art  for  the 
hapj)y  few,  rare  objc<'t>,  at  least,  orilered  by 
the  rich,  were  wroi.'ght  with  the  greatest 
care.  A  table  service  was  executed  for  a 
great  noltle.  'J"he  silversmith  designed  it,  now  rides  tlu' world,  has  devoted  itsiOf  to  the 
even  modeled  and  executed  it,  if  need  there  (lecorati\e  arts:  the  machine  wiiich  is  elst- 
wcre,  in  company  with  his  workmen.  wiiere  so  powei'ful,  produces  also  works  of 


I*'itfiiri-  V.    Sliriiit*:  Saint  Om-ii.  I{oim*ii.     DfsiuiMMl  by 
SanvH:rt''»t.     Kxri-iitcil  l»y  I'lHissii-ltrui— Knstiiitl 


THE    C  KAl  TSMAN 


.■irt.  Tlicisr  who  liiiv,  .-11111  wlio  h)-(l.-iy  l'.-i\r 
IK)  (■(iiic('|it  mil  (if  till'  arHstii-  i|iialit_v  wliic'i 
iiiav  licliuii;'  til  an  olijcct  iit'  (irdiiiarv  usr, 
arc  satisfinl.  and  tlicv  (Iriiianil  imtliinL;-  fur- 
ther. 'ri;i\'  liclicxr  tliat  tlicy  posses  .artistic 
sil\ crw  .arc,  because  tlieir  pieces  .ar.'  co.arscly 
iniit.atcd  fnini  old  niadels,  Sih  (a'siiiitlis  .arc 
11')  li)nij.'cr  (ir  via'v  r.arcl V  .artis.ans.  'I'liev 
.arc  in.aiuif.acturcrs.  pure  .and  simple.  'I'liey 
.arc  fcaawd  tu  cstaMisli  llic  canditiuns  cif 
tlicir  prudiictidii  prccisilv  .after  the  iii.aiuici- 
of  sti'cl  ni.anef.actiirers.  It  is  iieccssarv  to 
prodiic.'  r.apidh  .and  in  (|ii.aiit  it  v.  m  order 
to  pre\i  lit  the  oH'cr  of  louir  prices  from 
competitors,  (in  tlie  other  h.and,  the  pulilic 
no  Kmeaa'  possesst's  the  t.astc  for  art  .and  for 
uclhw  rouelit  thiiiii's.  'riua'c  .arc  to-d.a\  few 
persons  who  .arc  uilhiij;'  to  ]),av  the  price  ot 
the  spcci.al  care  .and  the  l(iii;-th  of  time  de- 
ni.andcd  liv  .a  iini(|ee  ol)|cct  uhich  is  lia- 
siirelv  m.ade.       In  the  modern  shops  di'Xdtcd 


Fiein-e   VII       Shniir:    I  atli( 
I'.ius^ii.JUMi.-  Hie 


aii.i 


■«»• 


l-'i^iir.'  \  I.     .Slirinr:    S:niil    I  lii.ii,  1; 
.>aiT\  :r_'i-..|        I'.M.nli'.l    l.y    I'.ni- 


li.'-i^aH-.l  1,1 

-|;i|v;,ll.l 


to  the  production  of  ij,'ol<l-.aiid  sih.cr  work, 
l.ahor  h.as  lieeii  (h\idc(h  .as  in  .all  other  indus- 
tries. AMicii  one  hundred  artisans  arc  cni- 
plovcd,  thcv  ,ai'e  each  one  speci.alists  :  one  is 
.a  dcsio-iicr,  .a  second  .a  heater,  .a  third  melts 
the  mct.al,  .a  fourth  chisels,  .a  Hftli  polislie-,, 
.and  so  on  indctinitely. 

l''orm(a'lv,  .an  ohject  li.ad  .an  .artistic  cli.ar- 
.acter,  hec.ausc  il  hore  the  m.anu.al  sin-n  of  the 
smith  wlio  had  ni.adc  it,  with  the  aid  of  .a 
few  chosen  worknuai.  ('nc  jicrccix'cd  in  it 
.an  intention,  a  will,  a  jicrsonality.  wliich 
i;'i\cs  ,an  .artistic  v.aliie  spmit.ancousjy  to  a 
work.  Ill  our  own  times,  wh.at  ])crsoiiaht_v 
c.aii  \c<'  hope  to  find  in  .a  piece  which  h.as 
p.asscd  throiiith  the  li.ands  of  ten  different 
wan'kmeii,  after  h.axiiii;'  hecn  dcsinaicd  h_v  .a 
sjicci.alist  who.  too  much  .alisorhcd  in  liis  ow  ii 


r.w 


SII,\  KHSMIIMIS    ART 


Figure    VIII      .M.,ri>tran(c.     PoussielKue-Rusiiiul 

task,  lias  iiowr  li.ul  the  tiiiii'  to  cxociitc  aiiv 
one  of  tlio  iniiuiiR'rablc  objects  wlilili  \\v  has 
created  upon  jjaper?  There  exists  a  <;-r;ive 
danger  in  tlie  subdivision  of  labor.  The 
man  who  designs  an  object  and  the  one  who 
translates  into  metal,  should  be  one  and  the 
same  individual.  Every  material  has,  so  to 
speak,  its  own  life  and  laws,  and  makes  its 
own  special  demands.  Tlic  facts  of  its  ex- 
istence in  detail  are  known  only  to  one  who 
has  long  wrougiit  in  it.  It  docs  not  reveal 
its  secrets  to  the  passing  stranger.  The 
admirable  results  obtained  by  llie  old-time 
artisans  were  due  j)reci>ely  to  the  vew  inti- 
mate acquaintance  which  they  possessed  with 
their  chosen  medium  of  expression.  They 
themselves  designed  the  objects  which  they 
were  to  execute.  But  to-day  there  are  de- 
signers wlio  restrict  themselves  to  tiiat  sole 


f'uiuliini.  'I"1k_\  do  not  put  their  hand  to 
labor,  if  it  be  not  with  the  pencil.  Thev 
work,  not  with  metal,  but  upon  i)a|)cr:  thev 
understand  but  vaguely  the  nature  of  tiie 
material  into  which  their  thought  is  to  be 
tran>lati<l.  Tiierefore.  the  indifferent  re- 
sults obtained  by  such  collaboration  as  we 
have  flescribed.  are  not  surprising. 

\  iollet-lc-Duc,  the  distinguished  art -his- 
torian of  the  ^Middle  Ages,  had  studied  pro- 
foundly the  technical  })rocesses  of  various 
ci-aft-..  lie  knew  exactly  the  pro))er  treat- 
ment for  each  material:  what  forms,  what 
style  of  ornament  could  be  employed  with 
success.  A  contemporary  worker  in  the 
precious  metals,  'SI.  Poussielgue-Rusand, 
some  of  whose  iiitere>ling  pii'ces  we  illus- 
tl'ate.  told  me  th;it  his   father,  also  a   fjolfl- 


Kiiruri-  IX.     MuiisirHiiciv     Di-sitrnnl   liy  CurrnyiT 
Kx«-cut('(l  liy  PoiisHii'ltriH'-Utisuiiil 


VM 


THE    CRAFTS  INI  AN 


;ui(l-silvcr-sinitli,  had  executed  several  iin- 
])ortaiit  pieces  designed  l)y  Viollet-Ie-Duc, 
and  that  in  so  doing  he  had  been  surprised 
to  find  liow  easily  tiie  (h'awings  could  be 
translated  into  silver  or  hronze,  and  what 
exact  knowledge  of  niatei-ial  and  of  technical 
process  the  designer  had  ac<juire(l.  through 


I'iL'iirc-  X.     -Moiivtiaii. 


Pons 


i'1l'ih-Ku 


his  >tudics  in  the-  historv  of  the  art  of  the 
^liddle  Ages.  \'iolletde-Duc  understood 
that  the  decorative  arts  are  not  to  he  restored 
hv  theories;  that  tliey  must  he  revived  by 
giving  to  workmen  a  stronger  love  of  their 
craft  and  the  time  nccessarv  for  the  .achieve- 
nient  of  tiieu'  work. 

'I'hus,    iluring    the    nineteenth    century, 


everything  conspir(<l  to  hasten  the  deca- 
dence of  the  applird  .iits.  ,uh1  I  le.ive  to  mv 
readers  the  care  of  recogni/.ing  the  condi- 
tions of  tlie  art-industries  in  modern  society. 

Instead  of  illusti'ating  a  few  examples  of 
what  h.as  been  done  within  these  last  hundred 
years.  I  prefer  to  limit  myself  to  such  con- 
temporary works  as  show  the  first  faint  indi- 
cations of  a  revival  of  decoratixc  style.  Hut 
it  is  first  necess.irv  to  s.-iy  .-i  ^\l)]■^^  i-egarding 
the  evolution  of  taste  ui  tlu-  nimtrcutli  crnt- 
ury.  Uj)  to  the  miildlr  of  tli.it  jtcriod,  the 
classic  styles  remained  in  favor,  ;il)ove  .all. 
tiie  I-ouis  XV.  .■iiid  tlu'  Louis  X\I.  In  tlie 
Frencii  classic  epoch,  no  one  susjjected  that 
there  lirul  been  an  art  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
All  th.-it  h.ad  ])receded  the  Renascence  was 
characterized  as  l).irl)arous.  During  the 
nineteenth  century,  the  Romantic  movement 
in  literatui'e  caused  modern  France  to  ac- 
quaint itself  with  the  Middle  Ages.  Victor 
Hugo  wrotr  "Notre  Dame  de  Paris.''  His- 
torical schol.irs  turned  toward  the  same 
])eriod.  \  iollct-le-Duc  began  his  studies  in 
Roiii;iii('s(]ii<'  ;iii(l  (iothic  art  :  and  it  was  soon 
recognized  with  astonishment  approaching 
sta])or.  that  the  great  epoch  of  French  art 
was  not  till-  seventeenth  and  eighteenth,  but 
rather  the  twilfth  and  thirteenth  centiu'ies. 
\'iollet-le-I)uc.  Lassus.  Merimee.  and  othirs 
revealed  the  beauties  of  the  truly  nation.il 
French  .art. 

Then  arose  violent  discussions  between 
the  classicists  who  accepted  nothing  but  an- 
tiquity .ind  the  ch,im))ions  of  the  art  of  tiie 
Middle  Ages.  The  fine  .-md  the  decorative 
arts  felt  tlie  reaction  of  these  disputes.  The 
niediaexal  style  w.as  adopted  in  architecture. 
But  nowhere  did  the  new  ideas  exert  a 
stronger  influence  than  upon  the  maker  of 
objects    in    the   precious   metals    devoted    to 


4:{>' 


S1L\"KUS.M1  111  S    ART 


Kiiriirc  XI.     Shriiu'.     AnnaiHl-Calliiil 


c'cclL'siastical  iisi-s  ;  for  to  liim 

were  (liscovort'd  tlio  works  of 

a     past     wliolly     French     ami 

racial.      It  is  evident  tluit  aii- 

tiijiie    i(lea.s    have    notiiin<;'    to 

offer    ill    the   decoration   of   a 

monstrance  or  a  slirine.      Tlie 

H'reat    religiou.s    centuries    of 

the  Middle  A<>es  left  admir- 
able   works    of    art,    toj^cther 

with    church    and    altar    fiu"- 

iiisiiings,    all    of    which    were 

exquisitely    adapted    to    their 

uses.      Owiiio-  to  the  influence 

of  the.se   object.s,   workers    in 

the  preciou.s  metals  sought  in 

mediaeval      art      models      for 

their   pieces   designed   to  the  service  of  the      win,     count     of     I'laudei-s,     are     seated     in 

Church.      We  must  quote  in  this  historv  of      arm-chairs    at     tlu'    base    of    the    reliquarv. 

the  evolution  of  taste  the  name  of  \'iollet-le-      On    the    upper    part    are    seen    the    twelve 

Due,  «ho  designed  a      apostles.      The  statuettes  are  the  work  of 

large  number  of  re-      (Jioffi-oi   de  Cliaumc;   the  decorative  sculp- 

ligious      pieces;      as      ture    was    done    by     \  illeminot  :    the    whole 

.ilso     the     name     of      »as  di'signed  by  \'iollet-le-I)uc-,  and  execut- 

I'oussielgue-Rusand,      ed    by    Poussielgue.      W'e    give    the    photo- 

tlie    craftsman     who      gi-a])li   of   a   shrine   designed   by   ^'iollet-le- 

executed  the  greater      Due.  in  the  style  of  the  thirteenth  centurv 

part   of  the  designs      (Kigure   Ih).      It   is  also  interesting  from 

of     till'     first-named      the  ])oint  of  view  of  execution:  lia\ing  bren 

artist.         l"i-om      the      made,  after  the  manner  of  the  Middle  .\ges, 

collaboration   of   the      with  shei'ts  of  copper,  riveted  to  a  wooden 

two   rcsidted   several      core.    The  cop))er  is  hammered  and  chiseled. 

of      the       important      Two    |-eli(|uarie>    (I''igurc    II)    aie   also    the 

])ieces  of  the  Treas-      work    of    I'oussielgue,    executed    affir    the 

ury  of  N'oti'e  Dame,      design    of    \'iollet-le-l)i'c :    as    also    a    verv 

Paris  :  as,  for  exam-      beajitifid    i-(li(|u.iiy    from   the  ( 'atliedr.al   of 

pic,     the     Ileliquarv      Sens  (Figure  III.).      Xo  one  has  possessed 

of     the     Crown     of     a  more  ])rofound   knowledge  of  the  art   of 

Thorns  (F^igu re  In),      the  Middle   Ages,  as  to  concept,   form  anil 

Saint     Louis,     Saint      method  than  \  iollet   le-Duc,  and  we  can  rest 
Fiirur.-    XII       Virgin    iin.l       ,,    ,  11,11  1    .1      .     •       1  •        1      ■  1 

"•liiUJ.    .Xririiintl-Calliui:         Helena     and      liald-      as>ureil   that    111    iii^   ilesign--    he   commit^   no 


l:(!> 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


error  of  tastu  or  sfvlc.  His  works,  more 
than  those  of  aiiv  other  artist,  approacli  tlie 
works  of  the  ^Middle  Ages.  Nevertheless,  a 
a  trained  eye  will  instantly  recognize  that 
tlie^'  ai'e  modern  ])ieees.  This  is  the  dift'er- 
cnce  which  will  forever  se])aratr  the  work  of 
art  whic-li  is  >)H)ntaneously  produced  under 
special  social  conditions  ot  uliicli  it  is  the 
growth  anil  flower,  from  the  work  which  is 
merely  the  lahoi-cil  product  of  the  intelli- 
gence, 'rhei'r  is  ill  these  rein.-irkahle  pieces 
designed  l)v  \  iollet-le-Diic.  ;i  certain  cle- 
ment that  is  dry,  artificial  and  constrained. 
There  is  in  true  art  a  grace,  a  simplicity,  an 
indefinahle  freedom  that  we  lure  find  want- 
illji'.       It  i>  in  the  France  of  the  ]Middle  Ages 


U'rliMiKiry.     Anii,iiiil-L':illi.-lt 


and  the  Greece  of  anti(jiiity  that  we  must 
si'ek  models.  JMctal  work  devoted  to  eccle- 
siastical uses,  from  the  middle  of  the  nine- 
teenth Century,  began  to  profit  hy  the  art  of 
the  ^[iddle  Ages.  Viollet-le-Duc  and  a 
cr.-ift^iiian  like  I'oussielgue  brought  to  their 
work  perfet-t  honest V  of  method  and  a  true 
re-,])ect  for  art.  It  vas  not  the  same  with 
the  craftsmen  who  imitated  them.  They 
treated  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries 
as  their  predecessors  had  treated  the  styliv 
of  T.oiiis  XA'.  and  Louis  XVI., — that  is. 
with  stupiditv  and  coarseness.  Original 
creations  were  no  longer  demanded.  Kxcel- 
lences  of  process  ;uid  method,  however  neces- 


410 


SILN  KHSMirilS    ART 


s.irv,  wore  disregarded.      Execution  aecoiii- 
plished  in  wholesjde  quantity,  was  distrcss- 


Fiirure  XV.     L'bapi-I  l.inii>.     l)i->ii^'ii'-il   l.y  liuillnrl. 
E.\eciile<i  by  Poussit'Isrut'-Kusand 

ing  in  its  standard  of  (iiiality.  Form  was 
(•([uallv  ])oor.  and  we  have  still  to-day.  wliat 
is  known  as  the  "article  of  Saint  Sulpice." 
from  the  name  of  the  quarter  inhabited  by 
the  merchants  of  church  metal-work.  Thei'c 
is   nothing   more   revolting   to   the   artistic 


wiiich  are  not  short  of  distrosiiig.      I  am 
unable  to  say  whether  there  will  ever  be  a 

renewal   of  I'lligioii^  art    in    France;  but  to 
in>tihlte  such  a  iiioveuient   it   would  be  neces- 


Fitjiin*  XVII.    Cruets:  silver,  translucciit  ciuiinfls  and 
trlass.     Dfsitrned  Ity  C'orroycr.     K\t*<*ntf*l  hy  Poiis- 
sii'Ifriu— Rusand 

sary  to  set  fire  to  the  neighborhood  of  Saint 
Sulpice. 

Then-  are,  however,  certain  manufactur- 
ing houses  which  have  preserved  the  taste 
for  works  of  art.  They  contluct  commer- 
cial enterprises,  for  it  is  necessary  to  gain  a 
livelihood;  but  they  also  produce  artistic 
things,  wrought  carefully  and  in  a  spirit 
which  is  rare  in  our  times.  We  illustrate  a 
series     of     works     from     the     Poussicl''uc- 


Kiiriin-  XVIII.    ('riii'lN.    l>i'si;rii>'d  liy  l.'diivrc. 
ExiTiilfil  hy  l*oii>sii-liril(-Husand 

sense  than   modern   Catholic   religious   art.       Rusand  House,  which  has  ])reserved  the  tra- 
France   exports   to   all   countries    atrocities       ditions  of  the  excellent  craftsman  Foussicl- 

tti 


THK    C  UAITSMAN 


el-k-      llolv  Slirou.l.  iVi.in  tlu'  (ntlRdral  of  C'aliors 


<yw\  the  friend  tiiid  colk-aguc  of  \w\\ 

Due       These  exan.ples  are  three  .hrines  in       (Figure  XII.):  a  n,on.trane.  >n  g,  ...d  eop- 

,„.!■     (Finurc    VIII.).    somewhat    heavy    m 
.tvle:  another  eharniing  uumstrancc   (Fig- 
ure    IX.).     executed 
.■ifter  the  designs  of 
M.      Corroyer.      tlie 
well  -  known      archi- 
tect.      Tliis    ])iece    i> 
enriclied      with      tine 
enamels  and  ))recious 
stones.       The      mon- 
strance      of       Saint 
Mevniin      (  Figure 
X.  ).    in    sihi'r    and 

en.Hlllels    is    tile    wol'ls 

of     .M.     Uapine.        It     piMiircXXl.   Crozi.T,    l'..iis- 

,.    ,  ^ii-lcii.-Ku-Miiil 

is  a   successtul   com- 
position in  the  style  of  th.'  twelftl,  century, 
gilded   .M.pper    (Figures   IV..   \'.   anil   M).  'y\^^.  ^^.,,|.]^^  „hicli  we  illustrate  are  so  nvi- 

„He  of  which  is  at  the  Sacred  Heart,  .at  „„.,.„„,  that  it  is  necessary  to  classify  them. 
:Montniartre  (  Figure  l\ .  )  :  while  the  other  ^^,^  tlierefore  add  to  the  works  of  Poussiel- 
two.  designed  hy  Sauvageot.  are  at  S;unt  „,^n„]{,,sand  wiiich  .-.re  destined  to  ecclesias- 
Oueii  at  Rouen.  W.n'ks  like  these  in  gilded  [^j^.,^j  ^^^^.^^  ^i,„^^,  ,,f  (]„,  f^nn  ,,f  Armand-Cal- 
copper  really  represent  the  art  of  the  crafts-  j.^^^_  .^^  I,y„ns.  These  two  are.  indei'.l.  tlie 
man  in  the  i)reeious  metals.  Tliey  would  ^^^^j^.  ,„,,i^,.,.^  „f  nietal  ohjects  devoted  to 
he  tre.-ded  the  same  way.  if  they  were  in 
silver-gilt.  There  is  no  ditfVrence  hetween 
them  :um\  ohjects  wrought  in  sihvr.  wliether 


Fi. -„,-.•  XIX.     U.li.nKHV  tul.r;   X..tn-  Dam...  I'uri-     1''' 
>hrn.M  l.N   AstM,.-,     Kv.-.-„tr,l  l.y  l'„„sMrk.n,-Ku-:,.,.i 

VI 


Fi-'iin-  XX.     Ci-.i/iiT.     l).-si^'iii'.l  l.y  L.-lnvn 
|',\....|it.-,l  l.y    l'..u^si.'lsui-Kus:ui<l 


thev  are  coiisidind  from  the  point  ot  view 
,)f  concei)tion.  or  from  that  of  execution. 
I„    the    sMHi..    class    of    ,.h.iects    hase.l    uj.on        ^,;^-;^;:^>^^'/,, 'il-;^; 


mediaev.d  art.  uiusl  he  placed  a  shrine  of  the 
4+J 


FiKuii-    X.Xll,      CliHlio 
Tn-i'  of  Lite 
H„tl)'  cxcciitfcl  by  Piiussii-lgiu-Rusaiul 


SIL\  K.KS.MITII  S    AKT 


Kisruros  XXIV  1111(1  XXV.    Chalices.     Dcsiirm-.l  l.y 
Herkcr.     Kxfciitcti  by  l^uiissiclsuc- Husanil 

ecclesiastical  uses  wliom  wo  shall  cjiiote.  A 
large  reliquarv  (Figure  XI.)  from  the  Ar- 
inaiKl-Caliiat  House  i>  om-  of  the  hest  ex- 
amples of  foiileiupoiaiv  iiKtal-«()rk  (ie- 
signed  for  cluircli  ii>(>.      It  is  in  liaminered 


silver,  enriclicd  with  enamels,  and  ivorv.  It 
is  an  <)l)jeet  of  art  rather  than  a  coiniiiereial 
artiele.  I*'roin  the  same  hand  we  illustrate 
a  small  silver  statuette  of  the  N'irgin.  It  is 
charming-  in  style  and  derived  from  the 
mediaeval    inspiration,    hut    treated    freely. 


Fieure  XXVI.    Tea  anil  .i.lTi-c  service   « ilh   specially 
ilesiimecl  talile.    Clirislotle  ami  Coniimiiy.  I'ari~ 


(  tii-i«torle  ami  ( 'oni]'ari>  , 


and  e\(|uisitely  executed.  Another  reliquarv 
contains  a  lock  of  hair  of  llenrv  Fifth,  who 
ne\er  reigned  and  who  was  known  onlv 
under  the  name  of  the  Count  of  ("hamhord 
(Figure  XIII.).  We  shall  return  once 
more  to  Ai-mand-(  alli.it.  in  our  nv  lew  of 
the  secular  ai't  of  the  ■roldsmilh. 


U-.i 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


Fi^'uri-  XX\  111.      I'l-a  and  .■..IVei'  s.-rvi.-r.     Cliri^l.iflr  an. I  (Mnii.an.v,~l':iri^ 

Tlu'   Kc'iia>-cc'niT  and   tlio  classical   styles  Such  arc  the  examples  of  contemporary 

ha\<'   not   hceii    wlidliv   abandoned.      A   nli-  metal-work  desio-ncd  for  church  uses,  which, 

(juarv    of    Saiiiti'-Aiuie    d'Aurav.    executed  based  u]>oii  fonin'r  styles,  are  worthy  to  re- 

bv  the  I'oussieliTue-ltusand  House   ( Fi<rure  ceiye   the    attention   of   our   readers.      It    is 

XI\  .  ),     interjirets  exident  that  their  authors  haye  studied  with 

finely    tin-    style    of  i-are,  as  well  as  intelli^'cnce,  the  inasti-r])ieces 

the   HenaNCeiice.     A  of   the   [Middle   Aj^'es.      But    they   haye   also 


understood  that  one  of  th<>  causes  of  this 
lost  art  lay  in  delicacy  of  execution,  in 
patient,  careful,  nuiuite  work,  and  they  de- 
yoted  to  their  works  the  time  necessary  fully 
to  complete  them. 

Neyertlieless,  they  did  not  allow  them- 
chapel  of  the  Rue  seh'es  to  o-row  al)sorbed  m  a  task  of  archeo- 
Jean-(TOU  jon,  are  loo-ical  reconstruction.  We  are  now  about 
in  Louis  X\'I.  to  meet  a  series  of  pieces  which  manifest  a 
style,  a^  is  also  the  sanctuary  which  they  <;'reat  freedoiii  of  iiiiiid.  and  m  which  there 
decorate.  tinally  ap])ears  a   new   system  of  ornament. 


I  a  111  p  (  Figu  re 
W.).  an  altar 
c.iiidlest ick.  and  an 

II  r  11  (  V"  i  i;'  M  r  e 
X\  1.  ).  u  hicli  Were 
executed      for      tlie 


Fiffiiri-  X.XI.X.  Cotl'ic  i.i.t 
(Ifsii^Ufii  by  (-'"tTi'ViT.  K\ 
i-ciitfil  l.y  Pi.ii<sii'ls.'n.- 
Kn-^an.l 


444. 


SIL\'KHS.MI  ril  S    ART 


Fiiruri-  XXX.    L'liitirpit/L'L-:  Curiosity.    Arinaiul-Calliai 


J-'iiTiir*-'  XXXI.    4  fiitfTpii'cr:  " 'VUf  X'inlutf."     t  lirisioitt*  iiinl  I 'itiii|iuiiy,  I'nris 


4l.'i 


n« 


I 


SIL\  KKSMllirS    AKT 


-%>« 


Fisrure  XXXIII.    Ciiit.rpipce:  "The  Oak 

Christoflc  and  <.'oiiipaiiy.  Paris 


pivsciitud  to  ^hHlailK'  Loulx't  liy  tin 


city  of  < '<»inpi«;-i;nc 


trcjited  iiccordiiig  to  tlu'  most  luodirii  ta->tc. 
and  showing  itself  even  where  tradition 
would,  of  necessity,  he  the  most  powerful 
and  hold  the  field  closed:  tiiat  is,  in 
metal-work  designed  for  ecclesiastical  uses. 
Here  are  two   altar   cruets   upon   a   salver 


Corroyer.  They  are  of  glass  and  silver; 
the  salver  being  in  silver  witli  translucent 
enamels.  They  possess  nothing  of  V Art 
Sotivcuu,  but  their  rendering  of  historic 
ornament  has  no  element  of  literalness.  'I'wo 
other  cruets,  in  green  and  amethystine  glass. 


(Figure   XVII.),   after  the  design    of  ^I.      with    silver    mountings,    were    designed    by 


Fiuiir.-  XX\1\".     .'i.rwr;    •  Tli.     I'lirk,  .^ 


liil-uiiv  .  r;iri-. 


U7 


THE    CRAPTSMAN 


LelicM'u,  and  executed  by  tlie  I'oii.ssielyue-       "lioni  uc  have  several  times  mentioned  (Fio-- 
Rusand    House.      Tliey    are    still    freer    in       ure    XXI.)-      They    are   both   interestino- ; 


f-'iuMirf  XXW.     .Server  witli  <':irrut  :tinl  iiiu^ti 
i].-^ii^ii.    Christdrte  and  ('(tinpan.w  I'aris 


stvle.  .-uid   the  t'()lia<;'e   is  treated   in  a  (juite 
realistic  manner  (Fi^aire  XX'III.). 


KiL^ure  XX.W'l.     Ser\ei-  witli  I'lne  ami  pinientc) 
'lesJuMi.     ('Iiri^fuJle  ;iii.l   (.'. .mpai i.\'.  I'ai'is 

the  work  lit'  Lehevre  liein^r  the  broader  and 
f'l-eer  of  tin.'  two.  \Ve  further  illustrate 
A  highly  finished  work  of  fine  style  may      from   the  above-<|uoted   House  a  chalice  of 

be  cited  in  the  rock  crystal  tube  of  theTreas-      >rilded   silver,  extremely  clever  in   coni})osi- 

nrv    of    Notre    Dame,    whieli 

contains  the  Crown  of  Thoriis. 

The    tube    is    co\ered    with    :i 

branch   of   that    tluirnv    shrub 

which  is  believt'd  to  lia\"e  ]ir(i- 

vided  a  crown  for  the  Christ. 

1'he  br;incli  is  of  chiseled  ^'old 

with   the  flowers   in  diamonds. 

On  eai'h  face  of  the  tube  there 

are     three     enameled     shields. 

The  desiirn  of  the  work  conies 

from  an  arcliitect.  M.  Astruc. 

while   the  execution   is   dui-  to 

the  I'oussielg'ue-Rusand  I  b)Use 

(Fiffure    XIX.).      \\'e    come 

now   to  two  e|iiscoj)al  ero/iers  : 

tlie      one      desio-ned      by      Lelievre      (Fig-      tion.      A  "tree  of  life"  rises  from  the  base, 

ure'    XX.);    the    other    by    the    silversmith      and  forms  the  stem  of  the  vase, afterward  ex- 


[■'iirnri'   XXW  i 


■l-liille    .-iihI    I    ..Tri|.,in,\. 


41-S 


SIIAKRS.MITHS    ART 

paiuiiiio- aiul  holdiiif"' tlio  cii})  in  its  hraiiclies.      we  liavc  quoted,  that  tliis  art,   fonuorlv  so 
Aiiiiii   tile   foliaire   tlierc   appear   tile   Seven      in-illiant.   lias   still    preserved   sonietliing   of" 


Saeranieiits  and  tlu' ('ri)>N  (  l-io-urr  XXII.). 
Another  clialiee  shows  a  desiirii  hv  .M.  Cor- 
royer  (Figure  XXIIl)  ;  the  stem  is  of  lapis 
lazuli  mounted  in  gold,  and  ornamented  hy 
cameo  medallions.  This  |)iece  is  slightly 
stiff'  and  dry  in  style,  and  inferior  to  two 
fine  chalices  executed  hy  the  same  House, 
after    the    designs    of    I.elievre     (XX1\'.) 


il(i  vitalifv. 


I 


\  secular  work,  it  is  also  necessary  to 
choose;  for  the  i)r()dii('tion  has  been 
enormous.  We  shall  illustrate  onlv  a 
few  pieces  of  two  oi'  thret'  houses,  so  as  to 
show  the  modern  uitrrpretat loii  of  the  his- 
and  of  Berker  (XX\'.).  In  ail  these  pieces  torical  styles,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  in- 
we  have  tin-  heo-innings  of  a   new   stvie   in      dicate   the    recent    efforts    made   bv    certain 


Fi-iin    XXXIX.     C-iitt-rpif 


Cardi-illiai 


ecclesiastical    metal-work,    which    we    might  artists  to  escape  from  classical  influences, 
have  believed  to  be  frozen  for  all  time  into  Naturally,    jiroduction    is    great    in    the 

traditional  forms.      There  is  perceptible  a  I>ouis    X\'.    and    I.ouis    X\'I.    styles.      For 

very   liappy  renewal  of  decorative   motifs.  therein  resides  the  daily  bread  of  tln'  con- 

Tlie    artists    have    studied    life,    instead    of  temiiorarv  gold-and-silversmith.      Jn   bazar 

copying  old  models.      Without  doubt,  there  articles, as  in  the  objects  of  luxury  displayed 


is  progress  to  make  in  conventionalizing 
these  forms  derived  from  Nature.  Hut  the 
tendencies  are  excellent. 

Here  we  shall  close  the  examination   of 
contemjiorary     ecclesiastical     work     in     the 


in  tin-  l{ue  de  la  Paix,  the  eighteenth  century 
predominates.  Therefore,  there  is  occasion 
for  all  renderings,  fi'om  the  grossest  to  the 
freest  and  the  most  artistic.  Some  crafts- 
men cojjy  without  hesil.it  ion  ;  others,  using 


precious    metals.      As    we    have    seen,    it    is       historical    ornament,    produce    works    which 
owing  to  the  efforts  of  the  two  houses  which      evidence,  at  least,  an  attempt  at  composition 


IH> 


Ki>;ur<_'   \I,.      Sm-iiikhc  tea  .iiul   niffi-.-  si-rvifc  with   sin-cially   ilcsi;;iii'(l   table. 
(lii'istcpHf  ami   ('(iTiipany,    Paris 


450 


Sll.\  KHSMl'I'irs    Aur 

jind   arrangcnioiit.      From   tliis   class   aloiu'  tlu'  (iiiisli,  tlio  iklic-ac_\ ,  tin.-  stniij^Ui  of  llie 

we  shall  select  examples  for  illustration:  for  works  of  the  cio^liteentli  centnrv. 
instance,  a  tea-service   from  the  Christofle  A     cott'ee-pot      front     tiu'      I*oussiel<riK- 

House    (Fifjuro    XXVI.),    the    details    of  Hiisand  House  (Fif^iire  XXIX.),  e\ecnt.'il 

which    (Figures    XX\II.    and    XX^"III.)  after  the  designs  of  M.  ("orroyer,  is  hased 

allow   us   to   ap})reciate   the   style   and    tlu'  upon  mediaeval  lines.      It  is  restrained  .uid 

composition.     If  it  be  permitted  to  produce  ijigaiit.      It     shows     the     direction     which 

works  in  the  historic  styles,  these  escape  the  miglit    he    followed    hv    makers   of    secular 


l':L'iir<    XLI.    Sycamore  service,    t'lirisiutle  iiDd  Company.  I'liris 


blame  of  plagiarism  which  so  many  other  j)ieces :  a  course  i(|ually  remo\ed  from  the 
j)ieces  incur.  All  the  elements  here  em-  liigliHay  followed  Ijy  all  the  copyists  of  the 
ployed  arc  borrowed  from  the  Louis  X\'I.  historic  styles,  and  from  the  dangerous 
style,  as  are  also  the  contours,  but  tiie  mass-  paths  into  which,  at  the  risk  of  their  artistic 
ing,  the  comjiosition  of  the  whole,  and  the  existence,  the  jjartisans  of  originality  blind- 
design  of  the  ornament  show  a  certain   re-  ly  plunge. 

finement   of  taste.      Further,   the  execution  Let  us  now  examine  a  series  of  very  costly 

is  careful,  altiiough  it  is  far  from  attaining  iTit<'r])rises  in  which  sculpture  holds  an  iiii- 

I  >t 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


])ortan 
cicited 


t   ])lac' 
with 


■.      In 

:)rnaine 


tlicsc.  fi 
lit,    aiK 


(Tiuvs  ai'o  asso- 
tlicrcfore.   the 


^ 


Thf  Christofle  House  has  executed  several 
tine  eriiterpieees  wliieli  diti'ei'  altogetlier 
froiii  histiiric  models.  They  are  hroad,  dig- 
iiitied  eoiiipositions,  sucli  as  "'riio  Vintage"' 
(  Mnure  XXXI.).  "Tlie  Beet."  a  work  ex- 
ecuted for  an  agricultural  society  (Figure 
XXXII.).  and  "The  Oak"  (Figure 
XXXIII.).  These  subjects  are  treated 
with  great  freedom.  In  "The  \'intage." 
the  women  art'  not  disguised  court  advent- 
uresses of  the  eighteenth  century,  but  real 
pe.isants  of  our  own  times.  The  conipcsi- 
tion  of  "The  Beet"  shows  a  group  of  chil- 
dren    gathered     about     the    vegetable    and 


histoi-ic  stvles  can  not  be  strictly   followed. 

The   new    ti-ndeiicies  are  evident    in   a   sihcr 

centerjiiece    of    the    Arniaild-( 'alli.-it    House. 

at   Lvons  (Figure  XXX.).      It   i-  t'lititled        ^ 

"Curiosity."      The  cini.imcnt  is  histoi-ic.  but 

the  figures  are  aT)soluti'ly  modern;  h;i\ing  a 

sli'iiderness    approaching    attenuation,    and 

an    incisive   (|ualit\'.    whk'h    is    easily    traiis- 

lati'd  into  metal.      The  -,il\ ci^mith  liere  l)e- 

comes  a  sculptor,  as  he  was  in  the  thirteenth       struggling   to   ui)root    it, 

century. 


siKersmith    we    illustrate 


From 
several 


the   same 
admirable 


siL\'KRs.Mrrns  art 


scrving-dislies,  the  doconitivc  motifs  of  skilful,  pcrluips  siij^iitlv  too 
which  are  derived  from  the  articles  of  food  Hji'urines  which  can  ))lav  no 
whicli  tiiey  are  to  offer.  'I'hiis.  tlu'  Turkey 
Salver  (Fio-ure  XXXH. ),  the  Carrot  and 
:\lushrooni  Dish  (Figure  XXXA'.).  the 
Olive  and  Pimento  Uisli  (Fift-ure  XXX\'I. ). 
the  Snipe  Salver  (Fi^'ure  XXXA'II.).  are 
all  sinij)le  in  composition  and  decorated  with 


realist 
part 


ic.      'I'he 
here,  ex- 


Kiffun-  XI. IV.    Va«-  with  iris  <lcsii;n.     Cliiistnlli'  ami 
Company.  l*aris 

motifs,  iiorrounl  diicctly  from  Nature, 
which  are  most  successfuUv  con\iiition.il- 
i/cd. 

Amon<(  the  numerous  productions  of  the 
Christofle  Mouse,  wc  clioo.se  for  illustration  a 
large  silver  mirror  (Figure  XXX\'III.). 
representing  the  "Death  of  Xarci.ssus."     In 


I'lLTiirr  \l,\'.    Siitrar  Itowl.    Cardvilha*" 

cipt    thai   of  dicoration,  should  not  too  in- 
sistently demand  attention,  for  the  spectator 
•-taiids    opposite   a    mirror,    and    not    in    the 
presence  of'  statues. 
Now.  we  pass  on 
to  works  which  are 
more      exclusively 
decoi-at  i  ve.       and 
which  can  be  classi- 
fied  under  the  title 
of     Jit     Xomciui. 
Hut    first,   we  illus- 
ti'ate  .a  large  ^ilxt  r 
basket,  desigiiiil  i]\ 
.M.    Canleilhac.    in 
which      figures     of 
childri'n       (  /)iil I i  ).     I'i^- 
copied       from      the 
Italian   Keiiasceiice,  .are   playing  amid   lux- 


this,    the   sculptural    details   are   extremely      ui'iant   foliage  (Figure   XXXIX.).      'I'his 

1 5:  J 


TIIK    tUAFTS.MAN 


l)a-ki.'t    i-    cHi|)tif.-il    ill    fiinii.    .111(1    iiira^nrt- 

tlircc    fVct     ill     Irllo-tll. 


tlic-  vrlliiu  Ir.iM'^  a|i|i<ariiit;'  ii|)iiii  a  (liil' 
liarLi;riuiii(l.  Tin  illustration^  allou  tin 
sti!il\  (if  ilitail.  anil  a  gravr  rritici.Mii  >liiiiilil. 
in  ni\  ii|iiiiiiin.  rcMilt  from  tlir  examination. 
Tlic  ili-i;;ii(  r.  tliroiin'li  fear  of  falliiii;-  into 
tlir     familiar     and     tlu'     (■oiiimoii|ilacc.     lia> 


Kluuiv    I..      r.Mvkrt   i.y    r;u.l.  illi;i,- 


FiL'iir.-  XIAII       ll^in.l   niiniir.     D.-i^iir.l   l.\    ( •:irii.iMi:M- 

'I'lir  Clui-lotl.-  IIoiiM'  has  |iro(liici(l  a  tiiir 
tea  and  colfrr  >ri-\icr,  |iro\id(d  \\\\\\  all  a|i- 
propi-ialc  lalilc  and  named  ■■'I'lic  Sycainorc 
Si|-\  ice,"  from  the  trie  uliicli  fui-iii^licd  tlir 
(Kcorali\c  iiiiitifs  tlirrrin  riii|iloycd.  ^^  <'  ,,..,^^,.,|  |,,  \\^^^  o||i,r  lAtrcmi.  He  lia-  not 
illiistratr  till  uliolr  and  crrtaiii  details,  since  ,,l„,ved  the  rides  of  deeorativr  desio-n.  I  will 
lliis  is  an  im|iorlant  u  ork.  \\  liicli  o"  es  notli-  |,,,  m,,!.,,  r\)ilicit:  the  historic  styles,  uliik 
nr^  to  tli<  historic  styles,  and  has  derived  a  ,.,,  |,,,,  rahl  V  decoratixe.  .al-e  t  hol-oll,i;-llly  cnii- 
free  system  of  decm-ation  directly  troiii  vent  ionali/ed.  In  them  all  ornament  de- 
Xaliire  (  l''imires  Xl...  XM..  XLII.).  It  ,.jved  from  Xatiire  is  traiist'ornied  and  has 
is    exeeiiled    111    silver    of    l"0    distinct    tones;        |^^^^    .^||    j^..^^.^.    ,,f    ,.,.., | j.,,,,.        \\     j.,    f^i-^t    onia- 

meiital,      and      then 

nat\iralistic.       'This 

is    as    il    should    he. 

for    ii|ioii    a    sal\c-r 

or    a    tea    service    we 

do      not       r;i|llire      a 

tlinver     or     a     <'liild. 

hilt       a       dei'oratixc 

feature,     pure     and 

simple,   plaviii^'   no 

part    other   than   as 

a   detail    of  a    «  hole 

uhich    it   adonis.      Ill       l-'if"-.-   1,1       Vase    vyitl,    rose 

this      •■Svc.amore        l>eli.MT,     KxeiMitcl    l.y 

l'i.ussi,.|i:iie 

Serx  ice."    the   orii.a- 

niiail.    horrowed    from     X.itii|-e.    is    realistR' 

.dniost     to    the     point     of    deception:    there 

|.-,.„n-  M.IX,     \l,,,,„   1.x   1  ,e.k,ll,.„  .-ire     leaves     :uid     spr.ays     wllicli     ap|)ear     .as 


1,>  t 


SIL\  EllSMITHS    ART 

it'    tlii'V     mi<>'lit     l)i'    fi-iitliiivd.      'I'lius.     too  pliccs  sliowinjr  piirt'  oni.HiiU'nt  aiv  Car  pnt'- 

iK'jir  to  NiitiMV.  tlii'V  .'U'c  tar  ii'iiiovcd  troni  irul)lo,  as  niav   !)<■  mtii  hv   rct'i  rriici-  to  nr 

art.      'I'his     scr\  ici-,      tlunt'oiv,      t'iirnislK>  tain    r\aiii|>lis    (  I- iouii-.    XI. \1..    \I.\11.. 

us   a    \alual)Ii'    lesson    in    dicoiat  i\  c    dcsi^ii.  XI.IX.  and   I,.),  i's|K'ciallv  tin    Mirror  and 

Iiii>Tmioi:s  artists  can    not.  as  tlifv   hflii-ve  tlie   Haskct,  in  wliioli  the  forms  lia\c  a  tine 

tluinst'lvi's  ahli.  ri  new  tile  decorative  system,  decorative  (|uality.   and,   altliou^-li    Inspired 

l)v  direi-tiv  l)orroHin^'   forms   t'roni   Nature.  liy      N.dure,     rem.-iin      purely     orn.imental. 

Hefore   elements   derived    from    Nature   can  Then'   is   in   the  style  of  Cardeilhac  an  ele- 

hocome   elements   tit    for   artistic  treatment,  ment    of    healthfulness.    lo^-ic    and    solidity 

they  must  underi^o  a  coniplite  trarisforma-  which  is  pleasinir  in  tlu'  extreme. 


KiL'lirr    LII.      V; 


l)»-si;riH-tl  l»y   Lchcvrc.     Kxcfiitt-«i  by  PtMi'^vii-l^m.-Kusali"! 


tion.      Two     \ases     fi-oni     the    same     House  Threi'  xases  executed  1)\    tlie   I'oussiel^fUi 

(Fifrures    XLIII.    and    XI, I\'.)    show    .also  House    (1,1.    ;iTid    1,11.  ).    .after    desierns    hy 

closely    realistic  ornament   to   which    cm    lie  Lelievre,  are  \r\-\   frei'  in  s(  vie.  errin;;'  per- 

applied  the  criticism  .alreadv  made  upon  t  hi  haps  in  tlnir  holdness. 

Sycamoiv  Service.  W'e  illu-.trate  in  dosing  a  seriis  of  work- 
in  tin-  work  of  ('ar<leilhac  .is  well,  the  pi'oduc'ed  liv  the  .\rt  Nou\eau  House.  «luc-h 
most  ii.ituralistic  ;//o//7.v  are  those  which  ari'  is  undei-  the  direction  of  .M.  Hinj;-  (I. HI., 
tlie  least  successful,  as  i-  inst.inc.-.l  in  th.  I,I\  .  I.\  .  !.\I.  I.\II..  I.\I1I.  I. IX.). 
suf^ar     howl     (Kiirui'e     XI.\.):     while     the  .Vmon^'  tlnsi   ex.imple^  .irr  In  hc'  noli d  r>pe- 


THE    L  RAFTSMAN 


cially  tlic  Tea  Service  (LIII..  LIV.,  LV.).  spoken.  Silver  is  a  precious  iiR'tal.  We 
composed  u])oii  simple,  graceful,  delicate  shall  not  revert  to  tlir  customs  of  the  reign 
lines,    which    is    the    work    of    Colonna  :    a       of    Louis    XI\'.,    when    this    substance    was 

usetl  to  make  stands,  orange-tree  boxes, 
great  mirror  frames,  and  other  j)iecc's  of  like 
size  and  weight.  Silxer  occu])ies  a  place. 
to-da_v,  onlv  upon  the  dining  iable.  the 
toilette  table  and  the  I'hinniev  piece.  Hut 
it  were  \\<'ll  for  it  to  make  itself  worthier  of 


'i;;uiv>   LIII.  .-Ml.!  I.IV.     |),.m-,|,,,]    \,y   c,.t,„ 
Kx.'ciit.il  l.y  •■|/.\rt  .\..ii\.:iii  Hiiiir" 


jiinlhi'tiii-  bv  .Marcel  ]}ing;  and  a  powder 
box  bv  lie  Feure,  which  is  successful  in  both 
form  and  decoration. 


WJ'^  h.ive  now  returned  from  a  long 

journev    through    the    history    of  I'^ifi"'-  l,yi.    .lanlinRiv.    DeMir,,,-.!  I.y    Marr,-!  King, 
the    sibersiiiitlrs    art.       We    have 

indicated,  .as  we  pursued  our  way.  tlu'  gen-  its  own  character  and  of  its  history.      Ec- 

eral  ideas  to  l)e  gathered  from  <Mch  )ieriod  desiastical    silverwork    has    recently    shown 

of  this  history,  .and  which  we.  « ho  wish  to  the  influence  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the 

effect    has    been    salut.ar\'.      The    mediaexal 


^  ?rf*;vifi4Cv  o." ,:,, 


style  IS  not  to  l)e  copied,  any  more  than  the 
eighteenth  century 
IS  to  be  imitated; 
but  the  Midille 
Ages  h.ave  t:iugllt 
successf  u  11  V  re- 
spect for  the  craft 
of  the  eci'lesiastic.al 
silversTnith.  The 
secular  worker  can 
g'liii     in     the     s.anie      fi-ihv  i.vii.     p,.«.l,r  l.c.x-. 

'■"""'•'  ■'i::'''L'A,VN;"v:'!,,l'^.!,';;;"''''^'-  '•"'"""  ^'■'""•i   knowledge    i^;::;:::'':^''.;^^ 

,.  I- ...  ,        1        ,  \  r;ni    HilliT  " 

of    a   dilterent,   but 
])i-oduce     .art.     must     ))erforce.     acquire.      I       e(|U.ally  \;duable  n.ature.      .Abxlern  ideas  have 
sli.all  m.ike  no  further  return  to  the  essential       aristai    within    .i    short    sp.ace    of    time,    and 
points  of   which    I   li;i\e  .ah'eady   frecjuently        for    these    a    counter-balance    is    necessary. 
4,jii' 


SILVKKS.MITIIS    ART 


Tlie  tendencies  of  /'.];■/  XoiizTnu,  wlien  too 
naturalistic,  wliicli  they  sonictimes  arc,  must 


be  met  and  modified.  ^Ve  must  kani  h  hat 
constitutes  a  style,  and  in  what  decoration 
resides.      It  Is  in  the  study  of  the  styles  and 


Kiiriire  LIX.    Eee  •'(t.    Uf-sij;in(l   l.y  Marcel  Hiiic. 
KxceiitiMl  liy  ■'L'Art  Noiiviiiw    Mine" 


tile  ornament  of  tiie  Middle  Ages  tiiat  our 
contemporaries  will  find  awaiting  them  tlie 
best  and  the  strongest  lessons. 


Ml'/rAI.  WOUK     IN     (  AHIM/I'  .MAK- 
IN(i 

THE   use   of   metal   as   a   decorative 
agent  now  made  by  certain  English 
and    American    cabinet-makers,    is 
l)y  no  means  an  innovation.      Tlic 
manner  of  use  alone  contains  a  degree  of 
originality.      In    the    late    seventeentii   and 


the  early  eighteentii  century,  Houlc  the 
cabinet-maker  of  Louis  XIW.  combined 
exotic  woods  with  coppii-.  hroii/e,  silver  and 
gold,  in  s\ich  manner  that  the  metal  j)ro- 
vided  the  decorative  lines  of  his  ])ieces. 
'J'hronghout  the  following  reign,  the  meth- 
ods of  Houle  contiiiurd  in  fa\(>r,  although 
the  structural  forms  employed  in  his  iiranch 
of  art-craftsmanship  suffered  a  considci-able 
change.  Later,  under  Louis  X\I..  line 
cabinet-work,  almost  invariably,  received 
decoration  in  metal.  Innnediately  after  the 
Revolution,  when  everything  classic  was 
eagerly  sought  in  the  decorative,  as  well  as 
the  fine  arts,  the  cabinet-maker  ornamiiited 
his  pieces  profusely  with  applications  in 
mi-tal. 

Tluse  works  were  master-pieces  built 
upon  harmony  of  line,  they  were  made  from 
valuable  material,  and  were  perfectly  exe- 
cutcil.  Tluy  were  designed  to  supplement 
the  architecture  of  the  times.  They  attained 
tiieir  object,  since  they  formed  an  integral 
pai-t  of  the  interiors  into  which  they  were 
inlroduced.  and  fVoiii  which  they  co\ild  not 
i)e  removed  without  equal  artistic  injuiv  to 
the  ])laces  and  to  themselves. 

To  copy  such  pieces  i.s  illogical,  since 
social  ideas  have  radically  changed  since 
they  were  created,  and  since  the  expression 
of  the  decorative  arts,  in  order  to  be  vital, 
must  reflect  the  life  of  the  period.  \\'e  no 
longer  demand  in  the  cabinet-work  suited  to 
the  needs  of  a  democratic  pco])le  the  elabora- 
tion and  glitter  of  applied  metal-work  ;  lint 
the  qualities  of  surface,  |)olish  and  color 
possessed  by  certain  metals  fit  them  to  enter 
with  rare  woods  into  a  mosaic,  which  l)v 
jdeasing  tlio  eye,  shall  modify  what  were 
otherwise  a  too  great  simplicity  in  the  struc- 
tural style  of  cabinet-making. 


I.-.7 


THE    CltAlTS.MAX 

'VWV.     I\l'I,ri':X('K     OV     the     -.mis-  in     NOrtli     Anurlc.n     i-     lar.orly     InriiR-nciii^- 

SlON      S'1'^■I,1■",■■      ri*()\      THE      CniC  miicli  of  the  Ix-t   (loincNtic.  civic  ami   rclig- 

AM)      DO. Ml',  STIC      Al{('lHTK('TrKl".  hui>     ai-<  lnt(<-tiirc     df     modern     ( 'alifiiniia. 

OF        .MOl)l",J{N         ('AI,Il'Ol{\I  A.       H^  \^itli  its  |),i|,iilaticm  cif  «caltliv.  pnini-cssixc. 

(;i-:OH(il-",  WIIAUTON   .lA.Ml'.S.  sDincwIiat    aiTogaiiL   and   ccrtaiiilv    -clf-ccn- 

tcrcd  citi/.cnNln))r 

H(  IW  iiftcn  wc  licar  tlic  c\|irc->ion  :  It  "cmld  he  an  inlciTstini;'  and  fa-cinatine- 

■■II,       liniliNd      hcttcr     llian      lie  search    tii    inxestigate    tlie    niHeences    uliicli 

kriexi  1"      \e\ii-  uas  it  Used  nii>i'e  led  t(i  tile  liiiildine'  of  the  .MisMiin  sti'iicturrs 

IndhfulU    than  when  a|i|>lied  tii  id  ( 'ahf'nniia.        Thex  an- (ii'ii;inalhnddiii<;'s  : 

the  I''atlieis  .lunijierii  Seira,  ( 'l'es])i,  I, allien.  no  one  can   >av   that    thev   are  copies.       ( 'e|-- 

and   tlieii-  coworkers,   u  ho  ei'ected   tile   mis-  taiidv    tlnv    ha\e     points    m    common    u  ith 

sioii  stnictnres  of  ( '.'di  f'ornia.  other  ai'chitei'tnral  expressions,  vet  the\   are 

The  S|ia  iiiards  h  ere  a   remarkalile  people.  on  el  na  Is,  clear,  ihsl  met  i\  e  and  \  i\  uk 

W'liateM  r  \\r  ma  \   think  of  the  modern  Span-  I  '  ndoiilitedU  ,  the  source  of  their  inspira- 

iai'ik    in    our   present    dav    pride.    \m     c.innot  tion  was  Spanrsh.  and  in  some  latei-  pnhlica- 

dciiv  his  Mi'iat  virihtv.  hra\er\.  and  the  e\-  tioii.  it   \\ill  he  iiiv   pleasure  to  n'ne  an  ana- 

teiil   of  Ills  e\|ilorat  ions  111  earlier  centurns.  I\tical  sur\e\   of  all  the  historic  churches  of 

Then,   t is   it    not    a    remai'k.ahle   fact    that  Spain    and    .Mexico,    which    ina\'    lia\<'    iiitlii- 

he   st.amped    his    laiie-u.'ii;c   and    much    of   hrs  eiiced  SeiTa  and  his  coad  |  iitors. 

reho'ioii     upon     till'    .alKnaeines    of    the    two  ^'et    it    is   evident    that    iii    C'ahfm'nia    the 

o're.'it    halves    of    the     .Xmei'ic.ui    ('ontineiit;  .Mission    ai'chitects    wci'e    lai't;el\     controlled 

tli.it  t  he  .■u'clutei'tun   he  Used  for  Ills  cliurches  liv    conditions    of    ein  ii'onnieiit .    the    iiiipor- 


l.-,s    ■ 


MISSION     AlU  Iiri'FA   1  IKE 

t.iiico  of  «  liicli  i-.imiot  1)1   oxcri'stimatid  :   vet  iir^s   and   (l(■(•i^illll.      'riicrc    uji^    iii)(  liiiii;-    to 

I    Mill    not    awjirt-   tliat    any    uritrr    lia^    pre-  rrl\    upon   but    tlif   intclli<j;iMici'  and   tlic  vu- 

soiitcd  tills  plia>c  of  tlic  Nuhjoi't.  n-ov  of  the  directing-  priests. 

It   is   iHOi'ssarv   to   place  ouincIm's   in   tlir  I'"roiii  this  jioint  of  \'u\\.  i^  il  not  siii-jn-is- 

oxiict   situiitioii   of  tile   Fatliors    in   ordir  to  iiij;-   that    tlicsc    priest-,    iinenled   a    st\le   of 

understaiul  the  ditliciilt  les   which   thev   o\ir-  arcliile<-tiire     uliicli     is     a     most     iiii|iortanl 

canio  and  the  ij;Tan<leiir  of  their  accomplish-  factor  in  the  modern  hiiildiim's  ot'  American 

inents.      Tliev  were  in  a  straiia;i'  land  :    thev  (  alit  ornia  r      Such     a      risiilt      was     acconi- 


KiKurc  II.     Till- <':iiii|>uiiili'.  lili'uwniKl  Hiitii.  Hiviisid.-.  ('iilii..riMa 

had   no   forf^t's   or   foundries,   no   inaniifac-  plished  \>\   nothinir  short  of  genius.      It    is 

tones  of  tools,  no  skilled  lahorcrs.  no  hase  of  no  small  tjiinj;'  to  |)ro(hice  a  stvie  of  arclii- 

snpplies,  no  stone-masons,  hi'ick-makeis.  or  tecti'i'e,  or  so  to  mo(hf\'  an  exisliriM-  st  \  le  as 

hrick-lavcrs,    no    c\perts    to    jiidf;'<'    of    the  to  institute  an  art-e])och.      With  all  oiii' art 

i|ualitics    and    strenj^th    of    clays    or    stone.  trainin;;'.  our  vei-satilil  v,  our  com|)riheiisi\e 

TlicTc  were  ])ricsts  an<l  soldiers  n\\  the  one  study  of  the  styles  of  anti(|uit  v  and  of  latir 

hand:    sa\a<re  Iinliaiis  on  the  other.      Thus  davs,   we   ha\c   not    vet    invented   the  one  or 

surrounded  by  hindrances,  they  were  olili^ed  modified  the  other.      ^'el   these  jn-iests.  suji- 

to  meet  all  emerfrencics  with   irreat   proni|)t  posedly  t'\pcrt   in  theolojry  onlv.  two  thon- 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


sand  miles  distant  t'rniii  all  sources  of  archi- 
tectural ins])irat  ion.  ■.\\\:\\  from  tools  and 
factories,  with  the  erncle>t  nuaii>  ol  tran>- 
portatioii.  uitliont  Nkilled  master-artisan^, 
assisted  hv  a  feu  [irijfi-ssional  arcliitects  and 
a  few  indifferent  indi\  iduals  of  their  own 
race,  were  alile  hv  means  of  crude,  ahorii;'- 
inal  lahor  to  aceomiilish  this  o-i-^at  result. 
In  a  short  timr,  order  was  evolved  from 
chaos.  I/ntamed  Indi.ins  w ere  l)ron,i4'lit  un- 
der suhjection.  and  hecame  hlacksmitlis, 
tailors,  silvei'sniith-..  candlemakers.  copper- 
smiths, ropemakei-s.  painters,  scidptors.  ma- 
sons, stonecutters,  weaver^,  tilemakers.  em- 
hroiderers,  carjienters,  as  well  as  coni])etent 
laborers  in  manv  other  fields. 

r,et  the  man  of  honor  and  thought  ask 
himself  if  these  .-ichievements  are  not  aston- 
ishini;-.  Their  \ery  audacity  is  sul)linie.  It 
is  I'ronietheus  attain  darinff  the  o-o(ls  and 
stealin<;'  their  protected  and  i-herished  fire. 
Sei'ra  must  have  heard  the  \er\  Mnct'  of  (iod 
in  his  call,  .-ind  his  co-workers  and  followi'rs 
were  e(|uallv  confident,  or  they  ne\er  could 
have  dared  cast  themsehes.  a  mere  h.and- 
ful.  into  that  vast  horde  of  savage  human- 
ity, with  the  assurance  that  they  could  tame. 
subjugate,  and  speedily  convert  the  primi- 
tive natures  to  whom  they  addressed  them- 
selves. To  Serra  the  very  warmth  of  (rod's 
benignant  hand  must  have  been  a  reality  : 
the  verv  shadow  of  His  p|-oteeting  wing  .-i 
daily  and  nightly  fact  f<ir  which  to  i)e 
o-rateful.  How  else  can  we  accoiuit  for  his 
courage  and  fe/irlessness.?  Before  such  he- 
roes  and  .achievements  ordin.arv  men  nuist 
feel  their  littleness.  The  scoffers  at  the 
INIission  Fathers  would  do  well  to  consider 
the  dignity,  grace  and  fitness  of  the  build- 
ings erected  by  them,  before  they  proceed  to 
characterize    such    artists    and    artisans    as 


narrow-minded.     non-])roductive.     idle     and 
p<'r\erted. 

\o  honest  man  can  look,  as  he  nnrst.  with 
.iw.ikened  e\e  and  (luickened  ])erception, 
upon  thesr  noble  buildings,  and  not  feel  pro- 
found .-idnnr.'dion  and  esteem  for  the  men 
who  reared  them.  And  the  very  fact  th.at 
these  liuildings  are  now  the  ()l)jects  of  deep 
study  and  admiration  on  the  part  of  persons 
w  hollv  srparate  from  the  r.icr  and  traditions 
of  their  founders,  ])roves  their  high  artistic 
anil  structural  value,  some  jxirtion  of  which 
I  shall  show,  bv  noting  examples  of  modern 
( '.ilifornian  architecture  which  h.axf  boi-- 
i-ow  rd  their  distinctive  features. 


IX  a  former  article  I  endeavored  to  jH'e- 
sunt  a  few  of  the  distinctive  features  of 
the  old   Mission   buildings.      It   is   my 
])ur])ose    lure    to    fulfil    the    |iromise    of   tlie 
lengthy    title    .atlixed    to    the    head    of   these 
observations. 

The  architecture  of  the  l''athers  was  gen- 
er.allv  \fV\  simple.  ()wing  to  the  adverse 
conditions  prevailing  in  the  new  land,  this 
characteristic  was  enforced.      The  ^Missions 


Fiiruiv  III      'rill-  (■..liMiiKiih-.  (il.-nwdoil  Hotel. 
K'ivi'rsidi'.  Califiinna 


MISSION    AKC  Iiri'Kc  iruE 


FiL'urf  I\*.    Carncirie  Lili 

were  built  for  the  use  of  uncivilized  Jmli.-m--. 
Tlicrefore  it  was  not  fitting  for  them  to  l)e 
so  ornate  as  tlie  cliurclics  ah-eady  erected  in 
Mexico.  Necessity  largely  influenced  tlie 
creation  of  this  distinctive  ^lissiou  style. 
and  it  is  a  matter  of  congratulation  for  us 
that  the  Fathers  were  so  influenced.  Had 
they  erected  buildings  similar  to  those  of 
Mexico,  the  model,  the  inspiration,  for  our 
contemjiorary  architects  would  liave  been 
wanting.  The  very  elaborateness  of  these 
churches  and  monasteries  would  have  pre- 
cluded them  from  sugg<,'sting  designs 
adapted  to  modern  purposes. 

The  j)hilosopher,  Joseph  Le  Conte,  once 
expressed  a  thought  which  here  a|)plies  with 
force:  "That  only  is  good  which  can  l)e  soon 
again  and  again  with  increasing  pleasure." 


rary,  F^iNcrsidc,  ('a!if<triii:i 

\\ f  iiiav  adapt  this  thought  to  our  present 
subject  by  saying  that  while  fanciful  and 
florid  architecture  may  cajitivate  for  the 
moment  by  its  audacity,  it  soon  becomes  fa- 
tiguMig:  producing  in  the  s|)ectator  a  long- 
ing for  the  simjjle,  the  chaste  and  the  severe. 
Therefore,  to  these  Franciscan  Fathers 
We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  their  contri- 
bution to  our  education  in  the  building  art. 
.Jules  Huret,  the  famous  French  journalist 
and  dramatic  critic,  who  recentiv  visited 
( 'alifornia.  thus  wrote,  in  the  Paris  Figaro, 
regarding  the  architecture  of  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia: "Los  iVngeles  is  the  first  place  in 
America  where  I  h/ive  found  original  archi- 
tecture. Not  only  docs  the  style  differ  from 
any  I  have  seen  u|)  to  this  time,  but  the 
buildings  are  of  an  adorable  taste, — ingeii- 

II. I 


TIIK    CllAl-TS.MAN 


S   ft  ft  ft,   f,   J    a 


Fi-ur.-   V.     H.-i.l.li.T  .>t    Unli.l-t   M.    \-u»:>.   I--  Alli;.'l. - 


i„us  .-.n,!  v;u-ir,l  .Hs  Natuiv  Uvv^rU'.  oraccfiil.  had  .l.'iii.ui.lr,!  ^i„ll)li<■it.v  from  llu'in.  aiul  for 
,^l,-H-ant.  a|.l>r..|,natr  an,l  rno-a-in-.  .Manx  a  liuiuhv,!  y.ar>  tlnu-  nuilclMi--  rrmaiiH-.l 
,,rtlir  houses  an>  111  llir  stvlr  , if  the  S|)ain>li  |.i-artu'all.v  nnkiiouii  to  thr  ,intsi,l,'  world. 
IJrnaMTiuv      -Missi,,,,    stylr,-       uitl,    ahiiost        an. I   hut    littl,^  a|,|iiv,iatr,l    iiitluiroun    n- 

,.i(iii.  'Hie  (lisci|)lis  of  iHW  and  lii'ttc'i-  stnif- 
tiii-al  iiu'tliods  a|i|iir<-iatril.  at  first  sinlit.  the 
H-rac'.-fiiL  dl,L!,-iiitird    hnis   of  thr   half-iaiinrd 

^'  '  mas x.      Low    roofs,  nd-tilcih  \^  ith  h|-oad- 

^^  ^Jl^P^^BI^fWijj^lKll^^^'**"""-:         i-cai-hiiiii,'    or    widrl  y-pro  )rct  liiij,'    ia\c-s.    i;'.-i\.- 

shrltrr  Iroiii  thr  iHiv.t  1-ays  of  the  siiii  ; 
uhilr  thi.'k  walls  ex. ■hided  iiotli  heat  and 
colli  ;  Ihc-  ciiloi-  schcinr.  col  isist  i  II  ij,'  of  a  liiitf. 
toned  to  hariiioni/c  with  the  hiMiriaiit  aliiiii- 
daiu-e  of  the  sii r idi I ndi  11  o'  foliage,  |iiddiu'ed 
a  unified  \vhole  which  made  the  hiiildinos  ;, 
|iart  of  Nature  hersilf . 

Ilri-r  thill  was  the  triie  model  ready  at 
Hal  roofs  of  reil  tiles,  little  round  towers  sur  |,..i||,|.  '|'hc  niiiie  of  new  wealth  was  discov- 
niounteil  hy  S|iaiiish- Moorish  domes,  and  ,,,.,,,|  ■  t  he  one  necessity  for  t  he  miner  was  to 
areaded  naileries,  like  the  Franciscan  clois-  |^^^^^  ^|_^  |.^.j|^  ^^|.  ^^-^  ^^^^^^  coiixiction  and  to 
Ic-sof  the  past  ceiilury.  ',  )t hers  mi i.-le  the  ^|_^^^^  ^^^  ^|_^  ^^^_^.,^,  ^|_^,  ^,^,,|,.  ^^^■  j,,^.  ,„.„. 
Colonial    with    the    Mexican    style,    imitatiiio        ^.j^.j^^.^ 

II, i.  coarser  CO,, struct, on   of  the  adohe.       All  ^^^      ^,^^^^^._    ,^^,^..^^_   ,^-^  ^^.^,|.|__   ,,^   ,^,,.,|.|^.   f|„, 

are    \erv    attracti\e    and    [losscssed    ot     iilili- 

One  of  the  earliest   to  see  aiiil  a|)prcciale 

the  possihilitiis  of  the  Mission  style  was  Mr. 

Lester  S.   Monre,  ol'   Los  Anoeles,  u  ho  is  still 

a    \ouili;    man.       .\    nati\c  of   'I'opek.i,   Kan 

.as,    he    \wi,t     to    the    for,,,er    city    s.Miileei, 

\ears  ao-o,  ,iiid  uas  immeiliately   .attr.icted  to 

I  he     l''r;ilicisc.aii     striicturc-s,       l''irst      ot      all 

Ihcir  simple  diouity   .appealed   to  him.       lie 

h.ad  .ilre.aiK    chosen   his   prolessio,,,  ,a,,d   h.ad 

clear   iile.ds.      These,   o,,    the   one   h.aud.   de         ^^K*;-         ,         ..        ,  x:^i 

I  i-iiiv  VI.  Patid  of  :\rr.  HuIIh's  itsi, I, •,„•,•.  I„,s  Aiiir.les 
same  time  as  scxcral  other  eiithusi.asts.       He 


,n.anded  release  from  the  old.  o\  er-decor.atiil. 

I M-ntion.al    styles;     .iiid,    on    the    other.    :i 

return   to   the   simple,   the   natural,  the   liar 

determiiieil    to    f.inii  li.ari/e    himself    "itli    the 

The  Ma-N    poverty  of  the  :Vlission  Kithers       ori-inal  style,  .and.  with  that  view,  he  vis,ted 
„-as   nou    to   reap    It's   own    reu.ard.       Losertv        the     princip.d     Missions    a-aui     and    aoa.u. 


MISSIDX     AKriiri'KA   I'lHE 


niejisiiriiii;'.  stiulvliif;'.  .ui.ilx  /iii<f."|)l.ittiiij;" 
and  iiH'iitjillv   ivconstnu'Hnf;'  tlu-iii. 

A  »-i'ci)n<l  of  tlu'sc  .■ircliitfcN  was  Arthur 
H.  IJeiitoii.  of  l-o>  Aii^tIin;  >till  anotlur. 
William  H.  Wooks,  of  Wat-oiivilir.  Sjuci- 
lilflis  of  till'  l)liil(iill<Ts  ircc'tud  hv  lacli  of 
tlic'so  tliivo  moil  aiv  1ri\'  prt^tiitid. 

Tlu'  tiTiii.  "'riu'  Mission  Style, "  altiioufi'li 
widi'lv  nst'd.  is  somowliat  narrow  and  mis- 
leading. As  we  adapt  it  to  modern  hnild 
in<rs.  we  extend  it  >o  as  to  include  cei-tani 
features  of  Mexican  <lomestic  architecture. 
In  a  })ers()nal  letter.  Mr.  Weeks  lias  clearly 
Olitlnied  some  of  the  ideas  and  motives  whieii 


i'lL'ui'  iL'lti  resideiire.  East  Los  Aiijrcles 

led    to    Ins    use   of    .Mission    pilliei|)le-.       IIi 
~ays : 

"Amon^'  the  principal  features  of  this 
style  are  the  followiiifr:  a  typical  f-ronnd 
plan  consistini^  of  a  series  of  io«  .  massi\c 
lifjlit  colored  huildiiifrs,  with  tiled  roofs 
(red),  raii<fe<l  round  a  (|uadran<ile  or 
ccnirt  ;  a  small  court  at  the  outer  entrance 
l)ein<^  a  characteristic  addition,  and  many 
of  the  larf^e  Mission  houses  hayintj  the 
/Jiifio  or  inner  court:  there  are  furtlu'r  the 
low.  broad  arches — usually  ffrouped  tlw 
tiled  roofs,  with  wide  overlianf^in;^  <-oniice-. 
showinj^   lieayy    bracket    effects,   the   caryi'd 


scrolls  of  the  ^allies  ;ind  pediments,  tin- 
plain  stucco  of  the  walls.  «  ith  an  alisence  of 
lines  or  joints  >ueli  .is  are  ordin;ii'ily  siiii  in 
hrick  or  stone  work.  The  old  Mission  s|y|e 
is  siiii|.!e,  solid  and  massi\c,  imt  in  casis 
«  here  tile  .Moorish  li.is  crept  in.  the  tendency 
toward  fr.-iiltv  often  a})pears. 

"With  the  lulief  that  the  old  .Mission 
style  of  Iniildino-  i>  most  appropriate  for  .i 
cei'tain  class  of  n-prescntat  i\c  ( 'alil'oruia 
liuililin^s.  and  that  domestic  architecture 
should  he  tlu'  natural  out<>rowtli  of  the  char- 
acter of  a  peo])le,  of  the  institutions,  cus- 
toms and  haliits  of  a  region,  modified  !iy  cli- 
mate and  scenery.  1  lia\e  adopted  this  style 
from  preference,  and  lia\c  only  he^un  to 
ackiiowledn'e  its  possibilities  for  our  archi- 
tecture, which  ma\'  be  realized  by  dexelop- 
in<f  the  beauty  sun'i.isted  in  the  old  .Alission 
lines,  made  more  ornate  by  a  slioht  touch  of 
tile  .Moorish. 

"AH  my  l)uildiiij;s  of  the  old  Mission  t  \]>r 
1  liayi'  endea\()red  to  make  express  their 
purpose  and  use.  .iiid  not  to  lose  sio-ht  of  the 
fitness  of  tliin<>;s  by  such  \a<;aries  as  erect- 
inj;-  a  ^Mission  tower  on  a  distinctly  commer 
cial  building-,  or  by  placiii<>-  the  cross  and 
niches  tor  bells  on  iion-relij^ious  e<litices: 
parts  hIucIi  ^'iye  the  proper  sifrniHcance  ti> 
the  old  .Mission  church." 

The  story  of  the  orii^in  of  the  red  tiles  in 
(  alifornia  .Mis>ion  .irchitectiire  is  of  de- 
cided interest.  'I'lie  ori^^inal  structuris 
erected  by  the  Fathers  wci-i-  rixifi-d  with 
poles  and  tules.  ( )c<'asionally.  the  Indians 
became  refractory  and  had  lo  bi'  punislied. 
Such  discipline  made  them  an^^i-y  and  led 
them  to  run  away  from  the  l-';itlnrs'  con 
trol.  On  thi'ir  arri\al  at  lliiir  old  homes, 
DV  at  secret  lutuiits  in  the  mountains,  sonir 
of    those    disjilfected     would     plan     reprisals 


1 

-i 

1 

- 

A         -^ 

.'Zt 

rt 

JJ 

i 

i 

s 

u 

v; 

P-i 

ss£Ki,_. 


'K)4 


MISSION    AHClIITECTrRK 


upon  tlio  priests,  iliiliiiylit  attacks  were 
not  unf'rcquc'iit,  at  times,  and,  in  tlie  oarlv 
days,  tliese  were  made  in  a  desperate,  blood- 


lit^il 


J 


Fi^iirt-  IX.    Woman's  Chilt  Htmsi*.  Los  Aiiir«'K's 

tliirstv  manner.  Fif^liting  witli  tlieir  prim- 
itive war-clubs,  anil  bows  and  arrows,  they 
used  one  of  their  own  methods  of  warfare  to 
attack  the  Missions.  Attaching  lighted 
torches  to  arrows,  they  shot  tjie  latter  upon 
the  inflammable'  materials  of  the  roofs.  Two 
or  three  ^lissioiis  were  thus  destroyed  by 
tire,  and  finally,  in  self-defence,  the  tiles 
were  made  and  thereafter  used  as  a  safe  and 
impervious  roof  covering. 

Mr.  Benton,  who  is  a  member  of  the 
American  Institute  of  Architects  and  the 
Secretary  of  the  Engineers  and  .\rchitects' 
Association  of  Southern  California,  is  the 
author  of  several  of  the  most  striking  speci- 
mens of  the  Mission  style  existing  in  that 
region.  The  princijial  of  these  is  the  Glen- 
wood  Hotel  at  Riverside,  shown  in  Figures 
I.  II  and  III.  Here  is  a  bold  and  striking 
adaptation  of  tiie  original  models,  with  in- 
novations that  are  both  fitting  and  effective. 
For  instance,  the  main  buildings,  instead  of 
presenting  an  outer  fa(,'a(le,  have  their  main 
entrance  from  the  inner  court,  which  is  sur- 
rounded on  but  three  sides.     In  other  words, 


tile  jxitio  is  maile  an  entrance  court,  thus  se- 
cluding the  fa(,-adc  from  all  outside  influ- 
ences. Connnent  ujion  the  verdure  of  this 
ptitio  is  lUHiecessary,  as  it  is  luiderstood  that 
flowers,  ])lants  and  siu'ubs  are  made  to  grow 
in  every  vacant  space  in  this  land  of  .sun- 
sliine. 

The  patio  has  two  interesting  features. 
The  first  of  these  is  the  renmanl  of  the  old 
(iienwood  Hotel,  built  of  adobe:  the  roof  of 
uiiich  is  almost  flat,  and  covered  with  the 
original  tiles.  The  second  is  a  campanile 
illustrated  in  Figure  Two.  This  is  a  de- 
tached wall,  pierced  with  si.\  arches  for 
bells,  antl  with  three  others,  much  larger, 
rising  from  the  ground  level,  to  admit  car- 
riages and  pedestrians.  'l"he  campanile  at- 
tains a  further  pictures(|ueness  by  its 
stepped  and  curved  gable. 

The  feature  of  the  arched  colonnades  is 
dexrloped  in  several  ])arts  of  the  building, 
both  out  and  inside,  as  will  be  sei^n  from 
Figure  HI. 

Riverside  possesses  another  fine  example 


A 


I 


WHi*^- 


I    li«« 


F    ^ 


■lL.-:ir.-  .\.      I.I1/MI..1I1    I'.iir'l    .i|iiii"r 
Ventura.  Ciilifornia 


IC"-l'i'"l. 


iif  the  Mission  style  in  its  Carnegie  Library, 
as  seen  in  Figure  I\  .  Here  are  several  dis- 
tinctive features  in  most  jileasing  combina- 

liiS 


THE    CKAl  TS.MAX 


till  t" 


Figniv   XI.     !l;ii\anl  .M.  iii..rial   S.-li...,l,    L,,>   Almilcs 
tiilll.        'rln-.r     arc    tll(      ^tcpiiril     ,-11111     ^r|-ollill         lllt\    lit'   llli     .Mi>>l(lll    ^tvlc    1^    |  iri--rrM.'(l    ill    tllr 

|iiiliiii('iit.  thr  sciiil-cii-ciilar  .irclic^.  tlir  iiitcridi' as  cldscl  v  as  m  tlir  (.■xteTicir.  It  will 
rliaiiit'irid  and  pirrcrd  licll  tii\M  rs.  iTnu  iicil  lir  iilisi  tmiI  Hiaf.  as  Ml  the  .Missions  Hhiii- 
liv  sciiii  ciriaiiai-  ilmiHs.  which,  in  turn,  .arc  scIms.  huth  sciin-cii'ciila  r  anil  elliptical 
,,\iriiiiiiintc(l  li\  I  he  [iccailiar  .Mission  •'Lan-  .arches  arc  lua'c  iiscd  ;  Ihc  arches  liiiiii;'  "1' 
tern."  'I'lic  cciiil  iniiiins  plastered  cll'ect.  the  ditfi  rent  uidtlis  and  thus  (iffciiiie'  a  ple.as- 
cdlor.  .111(1  tile  red-tiled  niiit'  ciiiuair  in  .a  ini;-  \ari.aticiii.  'I'lic  rdciHni;'  is  I'lnnpuscd  dC 
h.aiaiKiniiirs  result.  lilil'iicil   I'cd   files,  in.-idc  .after  cild  models  .and 

l'ieur(.   l'i\c   i-eprcs(aits   tin-   house  of  e\-      costine-,  \\\-a\\  Laid,  .alioiit  ."^^^.i.OO  per  sc|ii.iri 
St.atc  Seii.ator  Kolierl   \.   Unll.a.  of  Los  An        nf  one  liundred  feet. 

e'clcs.       It   u.as  designed  liv  Mr.  ,Moorc.  .and  The  dri\  eu  ,a\   is  coinposcd  ot  thrcisctsot 

liuilt  111   i;)00:    it  cont.aiiis  tuel\(    rooms  and       tlirci    ellijitic.al   .arches.       In   the   re.ar  of  the 
cost  ^1','. ()()().       This  iM.a\    lie  ree'.ardcd  .as  .a       liiiildiiii;     is    the    initio    (l''ie;iire    \I).    with 
tvjie    of   simple    .Mission    donic-stic    .an-hitec-      eiij,lit  siain-i  irtail.ar  .ar<-lics.     'I'liis  j.-ist  iiiie-ht 
ture.       It   is  of  t'r.aine  const  laiction.  she.atiu  d       lie   classi-d   .i^   an    out-ot-door   sittiiii;'    I'ooin. 
.and  plastered  on  metal  Lath.      The  oiitsidi'  is 
|i.llllted     111     the     "Mls^-ioii     lilitf"     color.        .\ 
newer   method    lli.aii    p.aintine-    is    to   nii\    the 
ea"ound   color   pienieiil    with   plastir   tor  the 
tre.atini  111  of  tin'  exterior.       .\iiotlic  r  iiietliod 
h.as    rec(iitl\    lieeii    p.aleiited    li\    ('li.irlis    {•'. 
Kicli.ards.  of  Los  .\iie-e!es.  hv  wliicli  the  pi,"'- 
mint    is    mixed    with    the    jil.astcr    .and    iii.adi' 
pia'fi'ctlx   w.ati  rproot.       Tlic-rc  .are  two  st\lis 
of   tinisli    in    the   pl.ast<  r ;   the    I'oueli   ,-iiid   the 
smooth:    the     rout;'h    heint;'     e'caui'.allv     ]ire- 
ferrcd. 


In  the   Hull,!  I se  the  simple,  ch.astc  ili,o-  KiL-ure  X!I.     K..si,l,.nr,.  ,,r  Mr-.  M.-.-k.  i-.  I'asa.l.  „: 


ll.fi 


MISSION  ARC  iiri'iu  rruK 


It  opcMN  tVoin  tlir  li\  iiii;'  niDin  aiul  tVoin  Srii 
ator  Hulla's  "(Kii,"  and  i>  iiiadi'  a^riTal)lr 
and  lionK'likc  with  ^h  inniiit;'  liannn(K'k>, 
palms,  potted  plants,  birds  in  raj^cs.  vU-.  : 
wliilc  the  opt'ii  arclii's  afford  inniicdiati  out 
look  upon  a  cliarnnn^'  tlowcr  j^anlcn  nai'lud 
1)\   a  slioi-t  rii^'ht  oC  steps. 

I'ifinirc  \l\  is  introduced  to  sliou  the 
adaptation  of  the  !\Iis>ion  st\lc  to  a  simple 
cottaji'e.  'riu-  is  the  Consuelo  residence  in 
Los  An<;'eles.  The  house  is  of  one  storv 
and  coTitains  seven  rooms.  It  Has  liuilt  at 
a  cost  of  $!-,2.()()().  Althouo-h  the  roof  i- 
sliin<j;lc<l.  the  tiling-  of  the  hips  and  i'id<^'es. 


Ficnr.    Xill      ■   Tin-  (  iiri"."  I'lj.nrrix,  Ari/ori.-i 

the  hi'oad  o\  iThan^'in^-  ea\es,  toilet  her  uilli 
the  three  semi-circular  arches.  i>;]\v  it  a  de- 
cided and  jdeasinfr  Mission  effect. 

Of  an  entii-elv  diff'eicnt  charactei-  i>  t  In- 
ornate residence  of  Iiii<fa(lier-(ienei'al  Har- 
rison (irav  Otis,  also  at  I.o^  .\n;i'el<s.  It 
was  hiiilt  after  the  deisotis  of  .Mr.  .1.  P. 
Kri-mpie.  and  siiows  the  stepped  pediment, 
semi-circular  and  elliptical  ai-ches,  red  tiled 
pyramidal  i-oof.  someu  hat  similar  to  that  of 
San  Carlos  at  Monterey,  and  an  adaptation 
of  the  "lantern"  as  a  clumne\  decoration 
(iMfrure   \  III  ). 

Another  of  .Mr.  I{enton">  l)uildinf>s  i> 
.sliowri    (I'jjriue    I\)    in  the  Woman's  ('Irh 


House,  at  l,o>  .\ni;ile-~.  Hire  is  the  hull' 
plastered  exterior,  the  arched  colormade.  the 
stepped  pediment,  pui-ced  for  hi'lls,  and  the 
red-tiled   roof. 

It  may  he  well  to  iiot<'  in  thi-,  jilace  a  crili 
cism  suiij^'ested  li\  Mr.  W'l cks"-,  remark^.  It 
uill  l)e  rememhered  that  he  .-aid:  "".Ml  m\ 
liuildinj^s  ot'  the  old  .Mission  t  \  pe  I  ha\i' 
eudeaxored  to  make  expriss  then'  purposi-, 
and  not  to  lose  sij^lit  of  the  (itiiess  of  thinn's 
l)V  such  xan'aries  as  erect  ui^-  a  mission  toucr 
on  a  distinctly  commercial  huildinj^-,  or  hv 
placing  the  cross  and  niches  for  hells,  on 
non-relinious  edifices."  'I'liis.  of  course,  is 
a  point  of  taste  hIucOi  must  he  left  to  the 
pref  innce  of  I  he  architect  and  his  employer. 
Hut  th(  i-e  is  little  (loul)t,  in  iiiv  mind,  of  tlu' 
strict  ji'slness  of  .Mr.  W'eeks's  criticism,  if 
a  |)uie  st  \  Ic  is  to  he  maintained. 

.U  \eiitiira  We  find  the  di^;iiified,  simpK 
siruc-ture  shoun  in  I''ii;ure  \.  'This  is  the 
I'.h/abeth  Hard  .Memorial  Hospital,  wliicli 
"as  t'ri'cfed  a  short  time  since  hv  'I'homas 
Har<l,  Inilt-d  Slates  S<nator  from  Califor- 
nia. Here  the  contiip'ous  plastered  surface, 
the  rid  tiled  roof,  the  |)ier<-ed  hell  tower,  the 
.Mission  pediment,  and  the  s<'mi  circular 
arches  .are  the  distinct  fiatiires;  while  a 
slight  touch  of  added  Mission  effect  is  |)ro 
dnc»(l  hv  the  somewhat  insionificant  liul- 
tresses.  crow  lied   with    red   tiles. 

Ill    tlu-    Harvard    School    at    Los    .\nj;eles 
(I'i<,;urc    \I  ).thi-  aiched  colonnade,  the  red 
tili-d    roof   and    the    .Mission    pedinu-nt    liaM- 
heeii  Used  h\    .Mr.    Henlon  with   ple.-isinjr  ef 
f(-ct.        Here,      however.     We     disCOVel'     sli^lit 

modifications  prodiice<l  hv  the  iiit roiluction 
of  .Moorish  details. 

I'ij;'iin-  XII  represent  s  OIK-  of  t  In- earliest 
floiiu-stic  huildiii;;s  e|-ecli-d  at  I'asadeiia  in 
the  .Mission  sfvji-;    tin-  architect   heiiijj;  .Mr. 

Ki; 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


I'lyurc  Xl\".     Tli)'  !«.■  ulri'Hily  i-iimiileU-(i  Ipiiilililis.s  of  l.lif  t'alUoniiit  Stati-  Tfcliiiical  S.li.iol. 

San  Luis  (_>l»isiKi.  <.'aliforiii:t 

T.  ^^'.  I'arkes.  wiHi  ulinm  Mr.  .Mooro  \v,i>  at  XH  .      Tlu'se     are     tlio     State     I'olvteclinic 

tliat  time  engagrd.      ]{iiilt  nearly  nine  ^ ears  Scliool    at    San    Luis    01jis])o.      Wlien    the 

ago.  at  a  cost  of  .^fo. ()()().  it  originally  eon-  ])lans  for  this  institution  shall  he  completely 

tained  eleven  rooms,  with  a  hall  and  a  liath  earned  out,   there   will   he  twelve  huildings, 

room.      A  short  time  since,  three  more  rooms  w  itli   arcades  and  quadrangle.      'J'heir  esti- 

«ere  added  at  an  additional  cost  of  $;3. ()()().  mated    cost    will    he   a.   half   nhllion   dollars. 


T\]v     houst'     was     early     christened     "The 
Arches."  and  is  owned  hv  ]\Irs.  INIeeker. 


I'poii    this    \Mirk    Air.    Wei'ks    has    devoted 
much   time  an<l   thought,   jircxhieing  results 

Another  adaptation  of  the  Alission  stvle  "liicli  are  simple,  dignified  .-md  .altogether 
is  seen  in  the  "Curio"  hudding  (Figure 
XIII),  at  Phoenix.  ,\ri/on.i.  Desirous  of 
owmng  a  shoj)  s\iited  to  tliiir  ludi.au  hasket 
and  cui-io  trade.  Alessrs.  Heiiham  \'  Brizard 
themseUes  designed  this  little  structure, 
uliicli  thev  erected  at  an  approximate  cost 
of  ^4-. ()()().  From  its  completion,  it  lias 
heen  a  source  of  attraction  to  .ill  visitors  .at  ..,__.      ,_.   ., 

Phoenix,  and  is  a  most  pleasing  and  useful      ^'i^JHs^^ 
,ada]itation  of  tin-  .Mission  st\le. 

Two  of  the  most  imjiortant  huildings  de- 

sicriud   hv    Air.    Weeks   ,ire    sjiiiwn    in    Fio-iire       t'if-'""-  >^V.     Design  f..r  a  I'uMi.-  I.il.rary.  l..v  L.-slcr  S. 
■  -  -^  Mfior*-.  I^ijs  AiiL^tli's 

40'S' 


1111)1    mil   ^^t^TW 


-m:     mi     :t'i 


MISSION    AUelllTEeTrUE 


Fiyurt-  X\'I.     I>i-si<;n  fur  a  (Vimily  {'i<urt  House.  l)y    Le^tt-r  S.  .Mn-.r.'.   l,o-  Ai 


juliiiirablc.  The  main  hiiildiiif;-  of  l'"i<^iire 
Xl\'  is  fortv-sc'Vi'ii  hy  oiiu  luiiulred  feet, 
while  tlio  dormitory  to  tlie  riijflit  is  forty  hy 
one  luindred  feet.  Thev  were  hegim  on 
January  1.  I!)()i5.  and  completed  Novem- 
l)er  1 . 

Figure  X\'  is  a  sketch,  ])laiiiicd  hy  .Mr. 
Moore,  of  a  proposed  ])ul)lic  Hln-arv ; 
tthile  r  igiire  X\'I  is  a  design  which  the  same 
architect  suhniitted  in  a  competition  for  the 
Riverside  County  ('o"rt  House.  Tiie  latter 
is  the  most  effective  modern  design  in 
Mission  style  that  I  have  ever  examined. 
The  seini-circidar  and  elliptical  arches,  the 
oontin'.'ous  ])laster  freatuieiit,  the  heavy 
walls,  the  Mission  ])e(hment.  the  piercid  lieli 
tower,  the  egg->liaped  dome,  sui'moiMited  hy 
a  ''lantern.""  and  liie  red-tiled  roofs,  prixluce 
a  coml>ination  faithfully  representative,  and 
yet  admirahlv  suited  to  modern  j)nrposes. 
Were  I  called  upon  to-dav  to  erect  a  huild- 


ing  of  this  nature,  I  siioiild  accept  this  plan 
of  ^Ir.  .Moore's,  with  hut  one  or  two  minor 
modifications. 

Thus,  in  a  somewhat  cursory  manner.  I 
have  introduced  the  general  reader  to  a  style 
of  architecture  already  securely  domiciled  in 
California.  It  has  long  j)assed  the  exjieri- 
mental  stage.  M.  Iluret's  connnents  cx- 
j)ress  the  opinions  of  many  thousand  visitors 
who  come  annually  to  Southern  CalifcuMiia, 
to  he  ca])tivat<(l  not  alone  with  it^  climate 
.md  flowers,  hut  also  with  its  charming 
houses.  It  must  jjc  confessed,  however,  that 
such  a  climate  and  such  surroundings  are 
neided.  in  oi-der  to  justify  ^uch  an  architec- 
ture. In  a  cold  region  of  gray  skies,  it 
«()ldd  he  out  of  place.  So  we  an'  confcllt 
that  this  Mission  style  shoi'ld  he  rigaj'ded 
as  a  distinctive  possession  of  that  earthly 
parailise  of  w  liich  ( 'aliforiiians  ari'  >.o  justlv 
prourl.  ,, 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


THE  ADAPTATION  OF  ORNAMENT 
TO  SrACE.  BY  M.  P.  YERNEUIE. 
TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 
BY  IRENE  SARGENT 

lAHTATION  of  space  and 
iiatiire  of  material:  these 
aiT  the  two  ])riiK'ipal  fac- 
tors of  tlie  iiiaiiy  interest- 
u\'^  prolilenis  wlii'cli  offer 
Hieinselves  to  tlie  desifrner 
of  ornaincnt.  Aud  if  it  is 
iiisti-uctivr  to  formulate 
and  to  study  these  ])rob- 
Icins.  is  it  not  still  more  use- 
ful to  ca\is(.'  thcni  to  be 
sol\  rd  \)\  eminent  decora- 
ti\r  artists?  From  such 
<'\]ilanat Kills  all  our  I'eaders 
Will  diri\e  ])leasiire,  wliik' 
crrtaiii  among  tliem  will 
gain  from  the  same  source  a  fund  of  valua- 
ble ktiowk'do-e. 

In  composing,  tlir  desio-uor  must  strictly 
olisir\c  the  two  great  laws  whK'h  goyern 
drcoratixe  art.  'J^licse  laws  arr  simple,  but 
ai)s(ilutf.  and  can  lit.'  liriefly  stated. 

i'irst :  the  designer  must  ada])t  the  orna- 
mental forms  \viiich  he  employs  to  the  spaces 
wliich  he  w  islies  to  decorate. 

Second  :  he  must  :id.-i])t  the-  same  ornamen- 
170 


tal  forms  to  the  qualities  of  the  medium  in 
wliicii  lie  works. 

In  the  strict  obserxation  of  these  two  lau  s 
resides,  at  least,  in  great  measure,  that  which 
we  name  interpretation:  that  is,  the  resolvent 
jiower  which,  selecting  a  natural  element, 
reduces  it  to  the  state  of  an  element  of  deco- 
raHon. 

But  what  is  meant  when  the  designer  is 
told  to  ailajit  an  ornamental  form  to  the 
s))ace  to  be  decorated.-' 

There  exist  several  methnds  by  which  to 
decorate  a  given  sj)ace.  At  the  very  least, 
there  are  two  usual  modes  of  procedure.     To 


ADAl'lATlOX    OF    OUXA.MKNT 


illustrate,  let  us  choose  an  example:  prefer-      strictly  contained  within  the  allotted  limits 

ably  a  rectangular  form. — the  cover  of  a 

box. 

Usina;    the    first 


of    these    methods, 
cutting  by  chance, 
it  would  seem,  into 
■what       might       be 
<'alled  a  ready  made 
system      of     orna- 
ment, the  artist  es- 
tablishes a   rectan- 
gle   equal     to    the 
space  to  be  tlecor- 
atcd,  and  applies  to 
the  box  cover  a  de- 
sign which  is  abso- 
lutely   witiiout    fit- 
ness to  its  acknowl- 
edged purpose.      The  result  in  this  case  is  a 
fragment  of  ornamentation  applied,  so  to 
speak,  as  an  afterthought,  u])on  a  given 
surface.    By  the  same  method  and  with 
the  same  units  of  design,  one  might 
equally  well  have  decorated  a  circle, 
a  triangle,  or  any  other  wholly       Ifj^^ 
different  space.      This  method, 
let  us  hasten  to  say.  althou'ch        i' 'yiii'A^/ 

...  /  '  'ivJ? 

it  IS  of  very  f  re(]uent  occur-  -JL^^I 

rence,  is  unworthy  of  an 
artist.       In      such      in- 
stances,   the    logic    of 
composition     is     ig-         ii 
nored.  '' '-'' 

It    is    inadmis- 
siiile  for  the  de- 
signer,   when 
con  fronted 
by   a   given 


Disiens  ''.v  .M.  DufKnt; 


iMilcss.  ideed.  that  .ni  ed'ect  foreseen  and  ])re 
arranged.  inllu- 
riicrs  iiiin  to  con- 
struct his  design 
otherwise.  Hut  even 
ill  Mich  a  case,  he 
will  always  jirovidi' 
that  his  conqjosi- 
tion  have  an  air  of 
pur})ose  and  will, 
thus  removing  it 
from  the  class  of 
motifa  «liich  are 
employed  as  expe- 
dients and  common- 
places. 

H"l    what   ought 
We  to  say  of  those 
lesigiis  in  which  the  units  are  cut  and  de- 
tached by  caprice,  it  would  seein,  and  the 
fragniiiits   reinaiiiing   are.   by   such   ar- 
rangement, rendered  more  or  less  in- 
comprehensibU'.'      And  ought  it  not 
to  be  established   in  art.  as  a  first 
V         essential,    that    every    ornament 
lould    lie    specially    composed 
the  space  to  lie  occupied!' 
this   principle   were   dis- 
regarded,   what    would   be 
the     functions     of     the 
artist.^      It    is    evident 
that  they  would  con- 
sist   in    conq)osing 
c  o  m  mon  places 
lor     indiscrimi- 
nate iise.go((d 
for  all  pur- 
j)oses.       it 


space  to  be  decorated,  to  ignore  the  fact  that      uoiild  appear,  and  in  reality  good  fur  none, 
ornament  should  be  logically  conq)osed,  and       Hut   the   functions  of  the  decorator  are  all 

471 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


other  tliaii  these. 
1'hev  .'ire  lii^-h  and  tWg- 
iiitied  in  the  world  of  art. 

Aceordino-    to    his    desire 
in  eonstnictino-  his  desio-n.  the       \ 
artist  ran  stron^'ly  eiii])hasi/r  the 
contotirs  of  the  space  to  he  deeiirat- 
ed.  or,  on  the  eontr.-irw  lu-  can.  to  a 
certain    extent,   disouise   tlieni.      And 
we   sliall   see    from    the   ex.-unples    here 
ilhistrated,   that   each   manner  of   pi-o- 
cednre  lias  its  partisans  and  defenders. 

Tlu'refore.  we  ahandon  as  havinjj;  no 
interest  foi'  us,  ail  orn.niient  not  ^peci.'dlv 
(•om])osed  for  a  sji.ice  to  he  decorated.  It 
then  rcm;nns  for  \i>  to  studv  the  iiie;ui>.  a\  Inch 
are  .at  the  C(iiiim,-ind  ot  the  .arti>t  de>irou>  of 
perfection  in  his  work.  ^\mon^'  these  means. 
or  rather  tliese  methocK  of  proci'dure,  two 
are  ])romineiit.  Kither  the  ai'tiNt  wislics  to 
ornami'nt  the  entire  space,  to  covt'r  it  with 
honiogeneons  decor.ation  ;  or  he  m.av  localize 
tlie   decoration,   .and    confine    it    to   a    single 


portion  of  the 
space;  leavino-  the  re- 
ni.iinder  ])l;un  and  h.are. 
From  the  latter  method  there 
may  result  a  desired  and  effec- 
tivecontrasthetweenornanientand 
ilain  surf  .ace:  the  one  heio-htenino; 
the  v.alne  of  the  other,  .and  offerinf^ 
I  parallel  to  the  altern.ation  of  voids 
and  ,-,()lids  in  architecture.  Contined  to 
decoration,  this  pi-inciple  is  thorouyhlv 
understood  h\  the  Jaj)anese,  and  lias 
often  been  practised  hy  them. 
In  heo'iniiin^'  our  ex.aminations,  let  ns 
det<'rmine  «  h.at  course  may  he  followed  bv 
.an  .artist  who  «  i--lies  to  cover  a  given  sjiace 
with  liomogeneou--  oiai.ament,  and,  for  illns- 
tr.itions,  let  us  .accept  I  lie  desig-jis  ■which  are 
found  upon  the  first  p.ages  of  the  ])resent 
ai'ticle. 

A  r.ajiid  I'eview  .-dlows  us  to  note  that  fi\e 
])rincip.al  svstems  of  orn.ament  can  be  eiii- 
ployed.      These    five    systems    may    be    thus 


4^i 


ADAPTATION    OF   OKXA.MKXT 


classifit'd :      per- 
fect syniniotrv.  f);ir 
tial  syninietrv,  t'-.iUi.-  syni 
inetry,    symiiu'trv    upon    a 
non-syiiiinetrical      hacko-rouiu 
.'iiul.  last  of  all.  free  compos 
But  always,  and  iibove  all 
ever  maybe  tiie  system  of  composition 
employed,  it  is  well  to  state  tliat  evirv 
decorative  composition  niav  !»■  liniilci 
to  the  following-  essentials:  liariuoiiv  of 
line ;  balance  of  masses  and  values.      We 
have  no  need  to  speak  at  lei)<>'th  of  com 
position  considered  as  to  its   principles 
Harmony  of  the  coni})onent  li 
pcrativc  in  every  decorative  des 
it  is  further  necessary  that  tlu- 
iiarmonize  with  the  contours  o 
space  which  they  decorate:  tl 
they  do  not  cut  the  space  in  ; 
wav'    unpleasant    to    tlu'    vyv : 
that  they  do  not  appear  to 
distort  it,  unless  by  pre- 
meditated    effects,     dis 
counted     in     advance ; 
since    from   such   ef- 
fects    the 
tor    can    j 
excellent 
suits, 
example 
us    take 
a     rect- 
an<^le. 
If 
for 
any  D.-.^iirii-  i 


son    tile    de- 
ire    occurs    to    the 
decorator    to    charii^'e    the 
ij)parent      ])roportions      of 
lis   figure,   nothing   is   easier. 
He  has  only  to  decorate  it  in  such 
way   that   his   lines  are  strongly 
•mjjhasi/.ed  in  the  direction  in  which 
le  pro|)ortions  must  i)e  increased.   To 
make  a  more  technical  explanation,  we 
may  say  that  a  rectangle  covered  with 
emphasized   lines,   which  are  parallel  to 
one  of  its  sides,  will  appear  to  i)e  elon- 
gated   in    the    direction    of    these    lines. 


t\v 


y  .M     liiiM-Hi.-tii-. 


•le  decorated  in  the  same 
•;dlel  lines  will  apparently 
an  oval  emphasized  to  the 
ree  th.-it  the  lines  t hem- 
accented. 

he  balance  of  lin(>s   and 
.  the  j)riiicij)le  governing 
is  self-explanatory.    It 
certain  that  in  order  to 
obtain  a  perfectly  homo- 
geneous composition,  if 
such  be  his  desire,  the 
decorator     must     so 
regulate    the    ar- 
inenl        of 
constituent 
s    of    his 
m  p  o  s  i  - 
ion,    that 
t  h  e  i  r 
masses 
b  a  1 

ance 
■\',:i 


THK    CRAFTSMAN 


<inc  another  in  tlie  various  parts,  and,  necessary  to  linger  upon  them.  Given,  for 
also,  in  tlie  unified  wliole  of  tlie  desio-n.  exani])le,  a  circle  di\ided  hy  a  diameter,  if 
So,  also, 
t  li  e  values 
of  the  color- 
elements  of 
these  m.isM's 
must  lie  till- 
oi))ei'ts  II  f 
similar  care 
and  sliid\. 
Balance  can 
thus  he  es- 
tal)lishi(l  for 
the  w  h  1 1 1  c  ■ 
(■()mj)osit  Kin. 
ujicin  (inc  or 
sevi'ral  axes. 
Hut  the.,' 
cons  1 de  ra - 
tions  .ire 
s  o  m  e  wha  t 
o  n  f  u  s  I'd 
\\  itli        those 


all  the  orna- 
ment occur- 
ring on  the 
left  of  the 
d  i  a  m  e  t  er 
he  thi'ust 
u  J)  o  n  tile 
right, —  the 
d  i  a  m  e  t  e  r 
serving  a> 
.'ui  axis, — 
we  id)t;iin 
decorat  i ve 
symmetry : 
that  is  to 
say,  all  that 
is    found   on 

Hie      left      of 

the  axial 
(I  i  a  m  eter. 
w  dl  he  found 
ai;;un       re- 


uliich    ;ire    to    follow,    ,uid    which    coiu'ern  \ersed  on  the  right  of   the  axis, 
the    })rinciiiles    of    eomimsitioii     |)re\  iinisl  v  Naturally,  decorati<iii  can  be  symmetrical 
explained.  with   regard   to  one   or  se\eral  axes;  as  we 
The    essentials    of    sviiimetrical    conijiosi-  shall  find  later  hy  reference  to  our  illustra- 
tion  ari'   so    well    undei-.-.tiiod    th.-d    it    is    not  tions.       In   the  hiad     piece    of    the    present. 


Designs  l>y  M.  Beneilictus 


ADArrA'PIOX    OF    OUXA.MKNT 


article,  tlic  central  composition  is  svinnutri- 
cal  with  regard  to  a  single  vertical  axis. 

Tliis   is   the   most   siiii})le,   as   well   as   the 
surest  and  most  rapid  metliod  of  balancing 
a   composition.      The   desire   of 
varietj-    and    spontaneity    to 
which  are  somewhat  too  regu 
precise,  qincklv  causes  the  ar 
seek   other   combinations.      T 
partial  svnunetry  follows. 

This  latter  condition  is  il 
lustratcd  in  the  right  hand 
motif  of  the  iuadpiecc. 
The  two  tlowers  are  ab- 
solutely svnunetrical 
with  regard  to  the  vertical  axis.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  the  stems  .uid  the  leaves,  no 
longer  obeying  the  same  law.  break  the  mo- 
notony of  the  composition  by  introducing 
an  unforeseen  element.  It  is  not  neccssarj- 
to  say  that  the  axis  can  cut  the  composition 
in  various  directions,  and,  pass,  for  instance. 
diagonally  through  the  .square. 

Still  there  exists  a  certain  stiffness,  even 
in  partial  synunetry.  while  false  symmetry 
necessarily  gives  ii  greati'r  freedom  to  the 
composition;  ^dthough  often  jiaving  it  that 
air  of  fine  balance  which  is  so  agreeable  to 
the  eye.  But,  in  this  case,  the  synmietry  is 
only  apparent,  and  if  equal  masses  and  like 
values  balance  themselves  with  regard  to  an 
axis,  it  is  meanwhile  easy  to  discover  that  the 
symmetry  ceases  here, 
and  that  the  drawing 
and  details  arc  wholly 
dissimilar  to  one  an- 
other. These  condi- 
tions are  illustrated  in 
the  left  liand  square 
of  our  hcadjjiece,  and,  in  this  case,  we  deal 
with  svmnietrv  of  mass,  not  with  symmetry 


Dc-itrii-  l.y  .M.  .Mu.l, 


(if  form.  Anotlur  method  pieMiit>  jl>ilf. 
"hicli  may  be  described  as  follows:  I'ndn- 
,1  decorative  motif  of  symmetrical  construe 
tioM.  there  ])asses  a  secondary  iiitilif  wliicli 
mietrical.  .\  mixed  ill'ect  re- 
iving to  the  design  an  apprar- 
fancifuhuss,  wliicii  stops 
)f  confusion,  because  of  an 
ng  basis  of  order  .and  bar- 
my. Kxamples  of  this  methoil 
■cur  ill  our  illustrations  of 
•ertaiii  designs  by  M.^Iucha. 
A  (iii;il  nu'thoil  resides  m 
tree  coiii[)osit ion  :  the  <K- 
sigiier  being  restricted 
to  no  other  consider.'it  ion  lliaii  that  of  oh 
taining  a  good  result,  while  following  the 
dictates  of  his  own  imagination. 

\\v  shall  now  jiass  in  review  the  ditferent. 
series,  which  have  been  variously  treated  by 
several  artists,  who  liave  inscribed  differing 
ornamental  motifs  in  similar  spaces.  We 
^liall  .ig.ilii  dial  «  ith  the  principles  of  com- 
position which  we  liavi-  just  tiumierated. 

M.  Dufrene  prefers  a  mi<ldlc  way  between 
tliedirect  interpretation  of  natural  fcn-ms  and 
tlu'  realistic  treatment  of  forms  which  are 
purely  conxentional.  lie  employs  the  flower  ; 
but  the  flora  that  he  loves  is  ])eculiar  to  him. 
and  can  not  usuallvbedirectlvconnected  with 
N.iliire.  even  as  interpreted  bv  artists.  His 
plants  are  works  of  the  fancy,  without  having 
in  their  composition 
that  element  of  unreal- 
ity whicli  the  imagina- 
tive oftentimes  do  not 
know  how  to  a\()id. 
and  u  hich  becomes  the 
source   of   unpleasant 


surprise.      'i"he  plants  of  .M.  Dufrene  do  not. 
but  they  might,  exist.      Tiny  are  constructed 

175 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


I'atioiialU' ;  tlir\  do  not  shock  tlic  spectator: 
tlii'V  a})|)rar  to  l)c  (Icrivid  from  Nature.  From 
tliis  flora 
the  artist 
obtains  ex- 
cellent results,  w  ith 
out,  however,  devoting  him- 
self to  one  system  :  since  one  of 
his  designs  which  we  illustrate  is 
huilt  u])ou  ))ure  linear  forms. 

The  rectangular  com])osition  of  AI 
Dufrene  is  the  lid  of  a  jewel-box  deco 
rated  in  Lacquer.  His  structural  svste 
is  simple,  and  admits  an  axis  paralle 
the  longer  side  of  the  space.  The  dec( 
tive  arrangement,  is  symmetrical  witl 
gard  to  this  axis.  The  masst's  are  we 
balanced,  and  the  solid  composition  <iuite 
homogeneous.  'I'he  ornament,  in  graceful, 
sweeping  lines,  covers  the  given  surface, 
showing,  however,  several  interior  o])en 
s])aces. 

On    the    contrary. 

in    the   circle    repre- 
senting a   lace  doy- 

ley,  M.  Dufrene  has 

reserved      a      v.icant 

center.     The  u?.e  for 

which  the  tlesign  was 

intended,      indicated 

this  treatment  as  the 

most    n.-itural   one  to 

be  followed,  and  the 

artist      acce])ted      it 

without       hesitation. 

Ill  this  case,  the  or- 

ii.'unent  is  limited  by 

two     concenti'U'     cir- 
cles. l)ut   it    is   in    no 

wise  symmetrical. 

In    this   piece  the   masses   are  finely   bal- 


l).--itrns  li.v  .M.  :Mu.-1i;i 


.anced,  and,  in  order  to  give  the  eye  a  Certain 
confidence,  a  false  svnnnetry  has  been  esta!)- 

lished  ac- 
cording to 
an  axis 
through  the 
s.  'I'he  two 
een  the  prin- 
ndarv  leaves 
,et  us  t'urther 
note  that  the  circle  is  here  ornamented 
with  elements  taken  preferably  from 
Lirves.  It  is  a  question  whether  this 
eatmenr  results  from  intention,  accord- 
H'  to  the  ])rinci])le  maintained  by  certain 
cirators  that  a  circli'  sliould  exclusively 
receive  decor.ition  b.ised  upon  curves;  or 
whether  the  artist,  caring  little  for  systems, 
sought  primarily  effect  and  his  own  visual 
pleasure. 

In  his  triangle,  which  is  a  portion  of  a 
inos;uc  of  tiles,  the  artist  derives  his  decora- 
tive elements  from 
the  unreal  flora  that 
is  so  dear  to  him. 
The  composition  is 
here  solid,  entirely 
filling  the  given 
space.  Further- 
more, it  is  symmetri- 
cal, and  extremely 
well  .arranged,  with 
careful  adjustment 
of  masses.  \alues 
.and  tones.  It  offers 
an  agreeable  har- 
monv  of  line  .and  a 
geiier.al  effect  with- 
out  dryness. 


This  fault  might.  perl!a])s,  be  attrilnited 
to  the   decorative   motif   for  ;i   tympanum, 


nil 


Al)Arr.\ll()N    1)1"    OKXA.MKN  r 


designed  by  the  same  artist.  But  this  de-  ami  t'auiia  attract  liiiii  equally,  ami  from  the 
feet,  if  such  exist,  is  the  result  of  tlie  pure  elements  drawn  from  these  two  kingdoms  he 
linear        forms produces  excel- 


sition  perfccti 

given  space,  ornamenting  it  in  a 

pleasing  manner. 

M.  Dufrene,  in  these  four  comjiosi- 
tions,  has  evidenced  his  usual  skill,  and 
we  find  in  each  one  of  them  the  qualities 
of  an  imaginative  artist  who  is  able  to 
restrain  himself  from  childish  exaggora 


M. 


to  speak,  and  a  part  of  the  area 
is   left    free   from   all   dic(nvition. 
.\    first    motif  consists   of  a   double 
and    symmetrical    unit    of    two    con- 
torted lizards  relieved  against  a  second 
mofif  of  foliage,  localized  into  a  definite 
form.      Here  the  general  de^ign  is  sym- 
metrical, according  to  an  axis  parallel  to 


tions,  to  which  many  artists  have  aljandoned      the  shorter  side  of  the  rectangle.    The  whole 


themselves,  in  the  delusion  that  they   were 
creating  a  style. 

It  is  one  thing  to  create  a  style,  and  (juiti' 
another  to  give  style  to  one's  works.  .\ii<l 
if  ^[.  Dufrene  can  not  claim  the  honors  of 


is  extremely  decorative,  and  well  balanced  as 
to  line,  lights  and  darks,  voids  and  solids. 

For  the  ornamentation  of  his  circle,  M. 
Heiiedictus,  like  ^I.  Dufrene,  has  chosen 
curvi'd  figures.      Dividing  the  given  surface 


an  inventor,  he  is  able,  at  least,  to  give  to  into  three  etjual  parts,  he  has  employed  a 
his  decorative  designs  a  character  which  motif  \vhich  apj)ears  to  be  three  times  re- 
belongs  to  them  alone, ])eated.     Rut  it  is  only 

and  winch,  gradually  »  ~iZ.'\tlj'  *  ""  '""'^'""i-  "  f;dse  re- 

growing  stronger,  will  ^#^^^  A/^^  ^:^i-  semblance:  for,  if  the 

serve  to  make  known 
the  personality  of 
their  author. 

^I.  Benedictus,  it 
would  appear,  seek> 
also  to  impart  to  his 
compositions,  a  spe- 
cial distinction.  His 
conventionalism  is 
easily  recognizable, 
and  although  he  does 
not  limit  himself  to 
the    resources    offered 

I)y   Nature,    for   the   most   part,   he   derives 
thence  the  principles  of  his  ornament,   l-'lcn-a 


-n~  l.y  .M. 


foliage  and  the  stems 
are  identical  in  the 
three  cases,  the  flowers 
dirt'er,  each  time,  and 
])resent  variety,  there 
where  the  eve,  un- 
warned. ])erceives  only 
.1  simple  repetition. 
The  result  is  not 
without  character  and 

eff.ct. 

In  the  triangle,  the 

schi'MU'   is   less    frank, 

and,  perhaps,  less  successful.      I'niloubted- 

Iv,   the   localization   of  the   leafy   masses   in 

47  T 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


the  ansrles  is  a  fiiu'  iiKtluxl  of  treatment, 
which  leaves  tiie  center  of  tlie  composition 
free  and  clear ;  but  it 
is  to  be  regretted  that 
the  stems  which,  al- 
though remaining  in- 
side the  exterior  tri- 
angle, appear  to  de- 
form it  l)y  exceeding 
the  limits  of  the  interior  triangle,  to  which 
figure  the  ornament  is  almost  entirely  re- 
stricted. Otherwise,  the  treatment  of  the 
foliage  is  full  of  interest,  and  the  compo- 
sition, wliollv  \\ithout  symmetry,  is  very 
pleasing  in  its  t'reedom.  In  the  ornamen- 
tation of  his  tympanum,  the  artist — who 
sei'nis  to  prefer  liberty  of  design  to  the 
suliordination  of  synnnetrical  units — has 
sought  only  to  balance  the  masses  of  flowers 
and  leaves  of  the  mimosa  plant  which  he  has 
chosen  as  his  decorative  priiici])lc.  The  de- 
sign is  charming  and  cohesive;  the  lines  of 
the  leaves  either  harmonizing  or  contrasting 
well,  one  with  the  other. 

i\I.  Beneilictus  is  an  excellent  decor.ator. 
He  is  ai)le  to  imi>art  to  the  natural  elements 
which  he  employs  a  distinctive  style  :  while 
his  color,  full  of  resource,  a 
ther  to  the  interest  awake: 
com]>ositi<)n. 

In  iNIr.  ^lucha  we  a|ii)r( 
less    severe    and    studied    ta 
and   if  his   com))()Mtions   lu 
less  eliaraeler  than  those  o 
the  ]ireeeding  ;irtists,  they 
are,   |)ei-|ia]is,   mure  com- 
prehensible to  the  ])'il)- 
licfor  whom  conven- 
tionalization    is    a 
defect  r.itlier  than  a  quality. 

M.  ^Iueli:i  Uses  a  double  svsteni  nt'  com])o 
4.7s  ■ 


Drsiirn^  l.y  .■\I.  Anii.il 


sition.  in  the  sense  that  in  the  same  design 
he  confronts  purely  conventional  forms  with 
n  a  t  u  r  a  1  elements 
scarcely  translated 
from  realism.  A  floral 
decoration,  almost 
naturalistic,  may  oc- 
cupy the  first  j)lane 
of  the  design ;  while 
a  sim])le  sebeiiie,  tlioroughlv  conventional, 
sometimes  very  dry  and  hard,  completes  the 
whole.  In  his  rectangle,  the  artist  has 
treated,  in  an  original  and  ])icturesque  man- 
ner, :\  branch  of  miiiiosa  ;  providing,  how- 
ever, that  the  general  curved  direction  of 
the  plant  should  lie  agreeable  and  gracefvd. 
IJeliind.  ujxni  the  background,  there  winds 
one  of  the  forms  of  which  we  have  previous- 
ly spoken,  and  which  seem  to  be  favored 
especially  by  this  artist.  It  is  open  to 
cjuestldii  u  lietlier  the  two  systems-  -the  high- 
ly naturalistic  and  the  ])urely  conventional 
— harmonize  |)erfectly  with  each  other,  but 
the  result   is  not   inetf'et'tive. 

Ill  Ills  tympanum,  M.  Miicha  has  adopted 
;i     somewhat     less     free    and    characteristic 
sclieme.      He  has  yielded  to  the  demands 
svinmetrv,  but  yet  without  abandon- 
ig  bis  iisu.il  ornamented  backgrounds. 
He  here  employs  effectively  his  deco- 
rative theme  built  u])on  full  blown 
nisi's  and  buds  of  the  same  sjie- 
cies.      In     his     triangle,     the 
scheme    is    similar:    the    ele- 
ments only  being  changed, 
bv  the  substitution  of  the 
carnation  for  the  rose. 
In      his      (iru.ameiital 
treatment     of     the 
cir<]e,  'SI.  iNIucha  is  emphatic,      lie  believes 
that  a  circle  should  be  decorated  not  only 


ADAPTATION    OF   OKXA.MKXT 


witli  curves.  Init 
also  with  otluT  com- 
})letc  circles.      It    is   thus 
that  liis  decorative  scIumiic  of 
violets  is  boundid  hv  two  cir- 
cumferences, which,  however,  are 
not    concentric.      The    iiatur.ilistic 
elements  are,  in  this  case,  still  niiii 
glcd   with    conventional    .ind    snnious 
lines. 

One   can   indeed    o-ive   preference   to 
other  decorative  schemes  over  those  of 
M.  Mucha.      Hut  it  must  he  recognized 
that   he   plavs    like   a    virtuoso   the   thenn's 
which  he  elaborates  into  compositions. 


of  masses  and 
cohesiveness  of 
sign.  lie  has  succeeded 
perfectly  and,  for  ,i  rectan- 
gular space,  his  decoration  otIVi-s 
i|u;dities  well  \\or(liv  of  ;itfention. 
The  three  remaining  comi)ositions 
of  the  siime  artist  are  more  strictly 
limited  to  the  exterior  lines  of  the  sur- 
Iii  the  tympanum,  a  verticil 
axi^  i-egulates  the  svnnnetry  of  the 
orn.-unent.  which  is  huilt  upon  a  theme 
of  joniinils  .md  crocuses.  The  princi- 
})al  effect  to  he  noted  in  this  example  is  the 
marketl   localization  of  the  yellow   notes  of 


We  now  pass  to  a  designer,  .M.  Auriol,  the  blossoms,  grouped  in  balanced  masses, 
whose  schemes,  constructed  in  a  severer  and  In  the  decoration  of  his  circle.  M.  .\uriol, 

more  arbitrary  style,  are  varied  in  appi'ar-  although  still  b.ising  his  theme  upon  natural 

anccj,  but  ornamental  above  all  other  char-  forms,   conventionalizes   them   to  a   greater 

acteristics.      In    his    rectangle,    this    artist  degree,  as  is  seen  by  his  treatment  of  the 

holds  a  free  although  firm  hand,  employing  flowers  an<l  leaves  of  the  convohulus.      Here 

an  indefinite,  periiaps  a  conventional  flora.  the  design  is  synnnetrical  with  regard  to  two 

His  sole  care,  in  this  instance,  outside  of  axes    j)er|)i'ndicular   the   one   to   tin'   other, 

general  eflfect,  has  been  to  produce  balance  Tlii-.  i--  r<|ui\aleiit  to  re])eating  the  svinmet- 


Uc-iu'ii-    l'>    .\l-  -Si 


17<» 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


rical  motive  four  tiiiR-s  in  the  composition. 
The  design  is  solid  and  the  extreme  conven- 
tional treatment  is  hio-h- 
ly  decorative. 

In  the  triangle  the 
-Same  sv>tem  of  orna- 
ment is  again  employeil. 
It  IN  also  again  synnnet- 
ric.il  .leeording  to  a  vei'- 
tieal  axis. 

i\I.  Auriol  here  shows 
the  various  treatments 
to  which  he  suhjects  a 
single  form  ill  conven- 
tionalizing it,  and,  also, 
the  great  care  of  balance 
which  he  ne\er  fails  to  exercise.  The  same 
care  is  evidenced  in  the  examples  here  illus- 
trated from  the  work  of  i\I.  Simas.  although 
the  artistic  ideas  of  this  decollator  are  de- 
rivi'd  from  a  wholly  ditfcnnt  source.  He  is 
more  a  ]iroduct  of  the  schools,  and  with  him 
imagination  holds  a  less  im))ortant  placr. 
\ivA  this  i'act  does  not  at  all  detract  fi-oni  the 
\alue  of  this  excellent  artist.  His  works 
aw.akcn  a  ditfereiit.  altliongli  an  equal  in 
terrst. 

In  his  rectangle.  >I.  Simas  presi'iit 
an  allegorv  of  winter.      I''irst,  we  I'e- 
mark  a   well   detined   design    in   the 
border  and  the   interior  division. 
thr  l.-itter  of  which  is  made  hy  .a 
round   .-ircli.      This    emphasis 
laid   upon    the   design,   is   a 
characteristic  to  he  noted 
in  all  our  examples  hoi 
rowed    from   the    work 
of    the    same    artist. 


From    the    summit 

of  the  arch  a  l)ou((iiet  of  mistletoe  is  suspend- 
ed ;  wliile  hranehes  of  holly  decorate  the 
ISO  ■ 


sides,  and  meet  at  the  top  the  knot  of  ribbon 
which  holds  the  mistletoe  in  place.  In  the 
iiackground,  behind  the 
.arch,  snow  is  falling.  In 
the  spandrels, dead  leaves 
are  whirling  in  the  wind  ; 
while  frost,  fiowers.  or 
crvstals,  ornament  the 
border  enclosing  the 
coiiiposition.  which  is 
svimnetrical  onlv  in  the 
general  scheme. 

It  is  the  same  with  the 
composition  decorating 
the  t  \iiip.amiiii.  A  bor- 
der of  ground  ivy  ac- 
centuates the  form  of  the  space,  the  center 
of  which  is  occupied  hv  ;i  liea\v  wreath  of 
eglantine  roses.  .V  scroll,  .■irr.anged  in 
folds,  fills  the  tapering  sjiat'e  below  Mie 
wreath.  I'lie  decorative  work  of  ]\I.  Simas 
is,  in  a'eneral,  \erv  architectural,  and  the 
two  examyiles  wlilcli  we  illustrate  will  con- 
tirin  this  st.atemeiit. 

In   his  circle  ilecor.ated   with  xi-pfit^iliii ill. 
I   single   curling   motif  is   n'])eated  eight 
times.      The  indented  leaves  of  the  jilant, 
.all    pointed    tow;ird    the    center,    there 
form    ;i    somewhat    solid    decoration, 
w  lilch  grow  s  lighter  and  lighter,  as 
It  approaclies  the  circumference. 
I'iii.-ill  V,    in    the    triangle,    the 
indhun  serves  as  the  b.asis  of 
the  ornaineiit.      .\  ]il,ain  cir- 
cular  sp;ice    is    left    at    the 
center,  from  which  three 
in.assc's   of   foliage   are 
thrown     out     to     till 
the     anjjles.      The 


Dcsiirns  liy    M,  Siinas 

spurred  seed-vessels  of  the  jilant  are  carried 
round  the  whole  extent  of  the  background. 


AD.VPIA  riOX    Ol"    DUXA.MKXr 


Points  ciesorviiig  g-reat  praiso  in  tlioso 
tlcsjiiMis  are  tlio  ek'ijanci'  and  the  architi'ct- 
ural    quality    of    tliu 

composition,    as    well    ' ■■-\i'V^-- 

as     the     artistic     re- 
straint which  is  cvervwhorc  evi- 
dent. 

In  the  designs  of  ]M.  Grasset  con- 
trary princi])les  are  iioticoahle.  Ind 
pendence  is  dominant.  There  is  no 
structural  composition,  and  a  most  suc- 
cessful ima<4'inative  ijuality  enahles  the 
artist  to  master  his  j)roblenis  of  space  and 
decorative  effect.  The  balance  of  masses  is 
here  carefully  assured,  but  the  comjjosition 
is  free  from  all  restraint :  a  fact  which  does 
not  prevent  it  from  having  been  well  studied 
beneath  an  apjiearance  of  absolute  ease. 
Another  detail  to  be  observed  in  these  de- 
signs is  the  great  simplicity  prevailing 
throughout  them;  as,  for  instance,  two  flat 
colors  produce  excellent  effects,  without  the 
aid  of  half-tones  or  gradations. 

This  simplicity  is  delightful  in  the  draw- 
ing and  the  arrangement.  The  hydrangeas 
of  the  rectangle  appear  to  bo  untrained 
})lants,  growing  as  if  by  chance.  The  water 
iris,  with  fully  expanded  blossom,  am 
lanceolate  leaves,  is  presented  witli  caii 
less  grace.  The  hyacinths  of  the  cir 
cic,  with  their  upright,  almost  recti 
linear  foliage,  harmonizing  or  con- 
trasting exactlv  with  one  allot  Ikt, 
denote  no  j)erceptible  labor  of 
drawing.  It  is  indeed  one  of 
the  essentials  of  art  to  flis- 
gui.se  effort,  to  offer  th< 
spectator  only  the  jjleas- 
ure  of  the  finished  ef-  l..  -i^'„~  i.y 

feet,  and  to  conceal  fi-om  iiim  tlic'  difficulties 
encountered  bv  the  ar^i^l  during  tiie  course 


of  his  work.  The  labor  must  not  be  visible, 
nor  tile  successive  attempts  be  sus])ecled.  On 
tile  colli  rarv,  I  he  "  ork 
must  appear  sponta- 
neous, jiroduced  by 
)ne  throe  of  the  imagination, 
;md  this  quality  is  manifest  in  the 
lesigns  of  M.  (irasset  which  are  here 
produced.  In  his  tyiniiamim,  the 
artist  traces  wilii  masterly  ease  the  fra- 
gile steins  of  his  poppies,  Ijending  iliem 
at  will  with  the  utmost  grace,  and  folding 
again  and  again  their  indentcil  leaves  in 
exquisite  convolutions.  M  the  same  time 
he  iiiaiiitaiiis  a  perfect  balance  of  mass,  and 
tin'  harmonv  of  the  straight  and  the  curved 
[irinciples. 

In  the  two  coiiqiD-.it ions  ot'  .M.  Lali(|lie. 
the  structure  of  the  design  is  more  apparent. 
Imagination  of  another  kind  prevails. 

It  is  legitimate  in  tlii>  place  and  connec- 
tion to  sjieak  of  -M.  Lali<iue:  although,  for 
manv  persons,  he  is  only  the  distinguished 
restorer  of  the  jeweler's  art.  And  this 
would  .seem  to  lie  a  title  sufficient  to  satisfy 
the  most  ambitious.  Hut  yet  it  is  not 
enough  for  this  artist,  who  is  at  heart  a 
decorator,  anxious  to  develop  to  the  high- 
>t  point  his  gifts  of  grace  and  distinc- 
tion. Our  riaders  have  already  exam 
ined  the  decorations  of  his  house, 
which  may  be  characterized  a- 
irtistic  ti-(a->uic  I  rove.  Such,  for 
ln--tance,  ari'  the  bas-reliefs  in 
Miollen  glass  so  beautifully 
limiiiinu'-.  which  ornament 
I  he  great  street-door  of 
his      gem  -  liki'      marble 

)).lliiCe. 

In  our  illustration^,  Iw  appears  in  the 
part   of  a  decorator  of   plane-  ^ui'faces.  ami 

is) 


.M    c;r. 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


our  oiih'  reirret  is  tliat  lie  is  not  surticientlv 
ruprosentud  in  our  present  article. 

In  the  triangle  dec- 
orateil  i)y  the  artist, 
tun  cock's  heads  arc 
shown  coiifrontint;- 
each  otlier.  The  con- 
ventionali/i'd  crests 
and  t'l'atliers  serve 
aduiirahlv  to  till  the 
anyles  ;  while  lieneath 
t!ie  heads,  which  are 
full  of  character,  a 
j)lain  space  is  re- 
ser\ed.  The  cock,  it 
■would  seem,  is  a  fa- 
vorite motif  with  the 
.artist,  who  often  deri\es  from  it  adinirahle 
results.  His  use  of  the  same  theme  will  he 
rememl)ered  in  a  tliadian-like  comh,  e\hil)ited 
at  the  Exposition  of  1900,  when'  a  cock's 
head,  e\(|uisitel_v  ti-eateil,  held  in  its  w  ide- 
o})en  heak  a  Large,  clear,  precious  stone,  a 
to])a/.  if  we  mistake  not.  In  this  piece,  the 
iipen  spaci's  made  i)_v  tlu'  contniir  of  the 
coiiil)  outhned  with  extreme  delicacv.  as  well 
as  the  decorative  ([uality  of  the  general 
scheme,  gave  an  artistic  <|ualitv  ran-lv  to  he 
exjx'cted  or  attained.  Hut  the  same  artist 
has  ))roduced  a  similar  i.lecorative  effect  with 
thetwoheads  so 
simplv  treated 
in  our  illustra- 
tion. ,\nd  this 
ctfect  proves 
th.at  the  value 
and  interest  of 
a  work  do  not 
])roci'e(l  from 
exti-eme  complication.  They  result  rather 
from  the  stvle  with  which  the  true  artist  is 


ahle  to  permeate  his  creations.  ]M.  Lalique 
i\cels  in  modifving,  in  simplifving..  natural 
forms.  Every  day 
we  see  him  transform- 
ing into  jewels  the 
uavside  flower  and 
the  most  common- 
place insect,  which 
assume  style  and 
digiiitv  by  passing 
through  the  medium 
of  his  powerful  ])er- 
soiialitv. 


II.  -i 


Al'  the  end  of  this  rapid  examination  of 
decorative  comj)ositions  a  single 
conclusion  is  reached. 
I''ir>-t  of  all.  one  nuist  recognize  that,  in 
order  to  oht.ain  one  and  the  same  result,  the 
seven  artists  here  represented  have  eni- 
])loved  various  means.  Synimetrv  is  seen 
>ide  l)v  sidi'  with  free  design,  and  even  in 
till'  ditferent  drawings  of  a  single  artist. 
This  fact  would  seem  to  indicate  that  all 
theories  of  composition  are  useless,  .and  that 
the  artistic  perceptions  of  the  di'corator, 
together   with   the   result    obtained,   are   the 

only    essentials 
of  v.due. 

Ever\  de- 
signer obeys 
his  temjjera- 
nieiit,  and  in 
this  he  does 
Well.  M.  Sim.as 
M.  i:ra>-.t  prefers        free- 

dom, w  hile  M.  Grasset  composes  more  severe- 
Iv  and  coldly,  usintj  more  reo-nlar  and  tr.a- 


i«3 


ADAPTATION    OK    OUXA.MKXr 


<litional  mt'tliods.      He  has  i-ocourso  to  sviii- 
iiietrv  Miul  ropi'tition. 

Method  is  notliing.  Result  is  all  essen- 
tial. This  answer  should  be  made  to  the 
•champions  of  system,  who  confine  individ- 
uality within  a  field  too  small  to  allow  suffi- 
cient freedom  for  its  development.  It  is, 
indeed,  easy  to  learn  to  com])ose  with  accu- 
racy: to  baianc-e  line,  mass  and  color.  But 
how  inueh  more  difficult  it  is  to  find  an  artist 
really  worthy  of  the  name,  who  is  able,  not 
merely  to  fill  a  given  space,  but,  also,  to 
impart  to  his  desig-n  a  distinction,  a  stvle. 
which  is  the  pecidiar  properly  of  his  <>eiiius. 
The  occurrence  is  rare,  but  it  is  not  impos- 
sible, as  it  is  proven  by  our  illustrations. 
For  an  amateur  even,  however  ing-enuous 
he  may  be.  cjin  never  mistake  a  Cirasset 
design  for  an  Auriol.  or  a  Dufrene 
for  a  Mucha.  And  the  reason  for 
such  clearness  resides  in  tlu'  fact 
that  these  artists  have  been  able  ^^:^ 
to  acquire  tiiat  rare  posses-  /s/.'^^^ik 
sion,  distinction.  /ML/'   flP^ 

An  interesting  subject  j^l^^  ^B^ 
for  study  would  be  the 
respect  for  personality 
in  artistic  education, 
and  the  means 
adapted  to  de- 
velop, to  excite  this  individual  character, 
without  which  every  artist  is  stricken  witii 
mediocrity.  Undoubtedly,  it  is  well  to  com- 
pose faultlessly.  But  often  one  sees  teach- 
ers of  art  shudder  with  indignation  at  the 
sight  of  a  design  which  is  outside  tin-  ordi- 
nary type,  which  ignores  formulas  and 
creates  a  blot  upon  a  uniform  area  of  woi-k. 
It  is  natural  for  a  strongly  oi'iginal  nia-.trr 
to  attempt  to  infuse  his  own  personality  into 
his  students.      But  would  not  his  task  be  a 


Disiifii  liv  l.ali'iui; 


higher  one,  if,  eliminating  his  own  prefer- 
ences, he  sought  to  develop  in  each  of  the 
young  talents  confided  to  iii>  ciiarge,  the 
sense  of  individuality  and  character,  to 
heighten  qualities  w  jijch  later,  after  long 
and  painful  struggles,  might  manifest  them- 
selves l)riliiantly,  before  their  possessor  was 
himself  a«are  of  their  existence? 

It  might,  perhaps,  be  even  desindjie  tli.it 
an   art    teacher  should   lack   strong   person- 
ality. pro\icli(l  that,  tlioroughly  acquainted 
with    tiu'    technicalities    of   his    subject,    he 
should  seek,  not  oidy  to  transmit  his  know  I- 
edge  to  his  studiiits,  i)ut  also  to  develop  their 
special  aspirations ;  as  in  this  case,  his  o«  n 
too  strongly  pr<mounced  (lualitics  woidd 
no  longer  oppose  and  obstruct  the  ]irog- 
i-os  nl'  those  whom  he  would  lead. 
Hut  we  are  fai-  afield  from  our  orna- 
mented triangles  and  circles.      Yet 
this  very  digression  is  an  object- 
esson    in    decorative    art:    one 
"hicli  could  be  extended  with 
)r()fit.      By  thus  enlarging 
our  area  of  observation,  we 
hope  to  ])resent,  not  oidy 
designs      by      French 
artists,  but  also  those 
of     decorators     of 
other      nationali- 
ties.     By  this  means,  our  readers  will  he  en- 
abled to  study  different  methods  of  solving 
an  artistic  ])r()bleni,  as,  also,  to  examine  from 
the  same  jioint  of  view  the  resemblances  and 
the    differences    jtreseiited    by    the    various 
schools   of   di-corative   art.      It    is   advanta- 
geous to  see  the  same  form  or  space  treated 
successively    by    French,    (Jerman,    English 
and  American  designers,  all  of  them  excel- 
lent in  their  jirofession. 

But    our   .uiibition    is   higher   still.      \ot 

tK:{ 


THE    CRAFTS.MAX 

content  with  tliis  project,  we  liopc.  not  in-  It  would  be  imprudent  and  useless  to  at- 

deed  to  reveal,  but,  at  least,  to  indicate  and  tempt  to  reveal  the  wealth  of  these  riches^ 

emphasize  those  resources  of  the  decorator  wliicli   are   inexhaustible.      But   it   is   hoped 

which  are  as  yet  too  little  known.      We  al-  that    through    the   study    of   certain   type^. 

hide    to    the    infinite   treasures    of    Nature,  some  enthusiasts,  extending  these  researches. 

Oidy  too  often  the  artist,  ])rcssed  for  time,  will  be  enabled  to  increase  the  already  known 

and  oppressed  bv  routine.  kee])s  jealously  to  resoiu'ces. 

tiie  beaten  jjaths.     The  floral  kingdom  alone  15eside  the  world  of  insects,  there  lies  the 

claims  his  attention,  and  even  then  it  is  to  a  world  of  birds,  of  fishes,  and  the  world  of 

chosen  aristocracy  that  he  addresses  himself:  microsco})y.    Our  project  is  to  touch  lightly 

since  there  are  a   tiiousand    little   blossoms,  and  consecutively   upon  each  of  these  sul)- 

delicate  an<l  various  in  form,  which  are  neg-  jects. 

lected  by  thosi'  who  do  not  u  i>h  to  see  them.  If  the  animal  in  its  entirety  does  not  in- 
or  who  can  not  aj)])reeiatc  fheir  charm.  vite  the  artist,  a  thorough  examination  will 
Mosses,  the  A\hite  nettle,  and  oth.er  hinnltle  yet  re\eal  in  the  details,  forms  either  exqui- 
growths  invite  study  and  wait  to  be  conven-  ^iti'  oi'  strange,  sometimes  unique,  and  often 
tionali/ed.  And,  outside  the  floral  kingdom  cliarming,  which  decorative  ca]n-ice  can 
there  lies  the  realm  of  insects  !  What  forms  utih'/e  and  raise  to  an  artistic  rank  until  the- 
.■ire  there!  What  smnptuous  color-schemes  present  time  monopolized  i)y  plants  and  by 
in  which  all  boldness  and  all  harmony  are  the  animals  regarded  as  of  noble  type, 
successfully  attained!  From  Brazil  and  The  days  are  ])ast  when  the  lily,  the  iris, 
from  tlie  Congo  Free  Stati-  we  obtain  the  Hi''  1">P1'.V  'nn'  H"-'  eglantine  rose  seemed 
richest,  strangest,  most  diverse  forms  of  •■ili>iie  worthy  to  enter  into  decorative  de- 
life,  capable  of  satisfying  the  most  exacting  ^'K'l-  --^Iso,  beside  hunnning  birds  and  but- 
dreamer.  In  these  species  the  most  precious  terflies,  there  exist  other  insects,  and  we 
substances  :  gold,  silver,  enamels,  de.p-toned  ]>nMni>e  ourselves  the  ])leasure  of  examining 
velvets,  seem  to  be  used  in  profusion  in  order  ii>''ii.v  ^^-U  within  the  limits  of  these  pages. 


to  charm  and  dazzle  the  artist. 


i'niiii    Ihi    Iirreinlier.  I'MS,   issue   of 
Art  (I  Dt'airiilivn" 


|si 


A    FOlUiOTTKA-    AHT 


A   FORGOTTEN    Alii.     ]i\     ISAHKL 
AFOORE 

THE  romance  of  Hie  sea  finds  varied 
expression,  but  perhaps  none  is  so 
weighted  with  the  lingering  memo- 
ries of  old  tales  and  gallant  deeds, 
so  imbued  with  the  fragrance  of  the  "salt 
sea,  where  the  sea  gull  flies,"  as  the  figure- 
heads of  those  wooden  ships  that  in  former 
times  bore  the  British  sailor  and  soldier 
across  the  wide  waters  of  the  world. 

The  passing  of  wooden  ships  saw  the 
passing  of  the  art  of  figure-head  making. 
These  fine  old  pieces  of  ornamentation  were 
not,  as  is  generally  sujjposed,  carved  from 
solid  blocks  of  timber;  but  were  bviilt  up,  bit 
b_v  bit,  cunninglv  devised  and  fitted,  bv  men 


Ua/.iit;;   willt   I'ar  ^i-i-ilJif  i-yi- 


Figurehead  "f  II.  M.  S.  Kiliiil.iirL'li 

whoso  devoted  lives  were  inspired  with  love 
for  the  creations  of  their  craft,  and  who,  in 
company  with  their  work,  are  now  almost 
forgotten. 

In  a  half-dcscrted  way  the  officials  of  the 
English  Admiralty  have  recognized  the 
great  historic  value  attaclied  to  such  fifrure- 
heads  as  survive — especially  figure-heads  of 
famous  men-of-war — and  there  are  in  the 
Royal  dock-yard  of  Davenport,  England, 
.1  number  of  tiiem,  more  or  less  promiscuous- 
ly |)iii(l  u])  in  sheds,  tliat  form  a  sort  of 
nai:ti<al  museum,  but  the  finest  and  most 
\aii:able  are  in  the  possession  of  private 
owners,  such  as  ("astle  &  Sons  of  Baltic 
Wharf.  Within  a  stone's  throw  of  Hie  Tate 
(ialiery,  gazing  with  far-seeing  eyes  across 
one  of  Lonthin's  great  thoroughfares,  stand 
several  colossal  and  silent  sentinels,  who,  in 
former  times,  have  faced  gale  anil  hurricane 
iinHinchingly.    and    plunged    through    tni- 

48i 


^^yu^ 


i*/ 


l>c,ft  iif  Jlessrs.  t'astli-  and  Suns.  Baltic  Wliart 


Suiifthiir  the  brer-ze  across  a  l^^ 
486 


i;.'lifart' 


Mi-ssrs.  (  aslh-  and  Sc.iis.  Hallir  Wliart.  hoiiilon. 
Main  entrance 


A   F()1U;C)TTK\    ART 


iCyvHA. 
BREAKK 


ONS,U«i  r 
»  ARDS  in 


Aiiiue  ill  lijs  ufgleeti'ii  corner 

known  seas.  They  now  cruard  the  dock- 
yards of  a  man  who  loves  them  and  has  saved 
them  from  destruction.  Within  this  do- 
main each  of  the  motlej'  crew  of  sea-farers 
has  wisdom  in  liis  uph'fted  face  and  his  vakie 
is  cnlianced  by  the  strange  m^'stery  of  vi- 
cissitudes. At  their  feet,  all  unheeded,  lie 
piles  upon  piles  of  dismantled  lumber  cut 
into  lengths,  and  odds  and  ends  of  drift- 
wood that  ultimately  give  forth  their  won- 
derfully colored  flames  in  English  fire- 
places :  for,  in  their  practical  moments, 
Messrs.  Castle  and  Sons  sell  for  commercial 
purposes  the  wooden  walls  of  the  British 
navy. 

Another   aspect   of   the    prosaic   side   of 
these  Admiralty  shipbreakers  is  to  be  found 


in  the  office  loft,  wiiere  finished  garden  seats 
made  from  old  ships'  timber  are  on  inspec- 
tion. Strange  fate  is  it  for  such  weather- 
beaten  and  hardy  planks  and  blocks,  brine- 
steeped  and  seasoned,  to  find  a  resting  place 
in  their  old  age  upon  peaceful  lawns  or  un- 
der budding  hawthornes.  Among  the  newly 
finished  garden  seats  in  the  loft,  are  yet 
other  figure-heads, — each  with  its  own  bit 
of  jiersonal  history  and  of  unique  experi- 
ence. Above  them,  on  the  rafters  and  upon 
the  walls,  are  the  name  boards  of  ever}'  ship 
that  has  been  broken  up  by  the  firm  :  a  record 
that,  in  its  suggestion  of  romance,  is  hardly 
excelled  by  any  record  of  the  sea;  for  not 
only  are  ancient  men-of-war  and  anti- 
quated sailing  ships  brought  in  to  be  broken 


A  icr^nut  u(  iiiiricnt  frit-iiils 


487 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


up,  but,  also,  wrecks  picked 
up  adrift,  or  dislodged  from 
reefs,  wliere  they  luive  found- 
ered, and  actual  derelicts  from 
which  have  vanished  every  ves- 
tio-e  of  humanity.  All  that  is 
now  left  of  their  actual  sub- 
stance is  an  occasional  figure- 
head. 

Among  the  many  attrac- 
tions of  the  Baltic  AVharf  col- 
lection is  what  is  called  ''the 
Temeraire  mantelpiece."  It 
was  made  from  the  mahogany 
taken  from  H.  M.  S.  Royal 
Albert,  one  of  the  last  three- 
deckers  built  for  the  British 
Navy,  and  it  is  inlaid 
with  oak,  recovered  from  the 
wreck  of  the  Royal  George, 


Tbi'  IV-niLi-aire  jMaiitelpii 


'V\\<>  !i;iluilrs>  I'oi.ji    i-oiiipaiiiulis 


which  foundered  off  Spithead 
in  1782,  with  Rear  Admiral 
Kempenfeldt  and  "twice  four 
hundred  men  on  board."  At 
either  end,  the  mantelpiece  is 
supported  by  a  figure  of 
Atlas,  the  actual  figures  taken 
from  the  stern  of  the  Teme- 
raire, the  hardiest  fighter  of 
the  British  ships  at  the  battle 
of  Trafalgar.  She  was  broken 
up  in  18.'58,  and  Turner's  cele- 
lirated  picture  of  her  last  berth 
lias  served  the  double  purpose 
of  enhancing  his  fame  and  of 
perpetuating  her  renown. 

That  there  is  inspiration  to 
be  found  among  these  memo- 
ries of  '"those  who  go  down  to 
the  sea  in  ships,"  is  shown  by 


488     ■ 


A   FORGOTTEN    ART 


the  fact  tliat  several  eminent  marine  artists, 
among  tlieni  WylUe,  have  gone  to  Baltic 
Wliarf  to  paint  their  pictures ;  while  as  long 
ago  as  1879  there  was  exhihitcd  in  the  Royal 
Academj-,  by  H.  Staccy  Marks.  R.  A.,  a 
picture  representing  two  old  naval  pension- 


ers looking  up  at  the  figurehead  of  H.  M.  S. 
Edinburgh.  The  title  of  this  picture,  "Old 
Friends,"  indicates  the  loving  associations 
that  linger  on  among  the  ancient  glories  of 
a  handicraft  that  has  passed. 


[editor's  notk] 

IT  is  comforting  to  know  that  human 
endeavor  resulting  from  zeal,  intelli- 
gence and  artistic  skill,  is  never  lost. 
This  is  proven,  in  one  instance,  at  least,  by 
the  action  of  Mrs.  Moore  in  collecting  the 
information  and  illustrations  with  which  she 
has  provided  the  readers  of  The  (,"raftsinan. 
The  picturesque  figure  heads  of  which  she 
writes,  have  largely  disappeared  from  the 
great  waterways  of  the  world,  except  from 


the  sailing  vessels  of  the  Mediterranean 
where  the  semblance  of  the  Virgin,  Star  of 
the  Sea,  and  of  Saint  Nicholas,  patron  of 
mariners,  protect  some  favored  barque  from 
the  fury  of  m'tstrul  and  scirrocco. 

Among  Mrs.  Moore's  illustrations  that 
of  the  "Temeraire  mantelpiece"  has  the 
greatest  general  interest,  since  it  is  asso- 
ciated with  Lord  Nelson  and  Turner.  In 
this  instance,  too,  the  carving  is  of  unusual 
merit;  the  two  figures  of  Atlas  being  quite 
witiiin  tlio  classic  type,  and  wrouglit  in  the 
style  of  the  wooden  statues  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  which  are 
found  in  such  ])rofusion  in  the  churches  of 
the  Low  Countries. 

,\ni)tiier  interesting  figure  is  the  one 
characterized  as  "Alone  in  his  neglected 
corner."  It  rcjjresents  some  English  ad- 
miral, as  is  shown  by  the  truncheon  borne  in 
the  left  hand.  Tlic  rich  dress,  the  ornate 
details  of  whicli  are  much  more  pleasing 
than  if  they  were  treated  in  the  harder,  more 
unyielding  medium  of  marble,  shows  the 
subject  of  the  portrait  statue  to  have  been 
also  a  Knight  of  the  Golden  Fleece. 

A  third  figure  described  as  "gazing  with 
far-seeing  eyes"  has  the  face  and  expression 
of  Sir  Galahad  in  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail. 
It  represents  some  crusading  sovereign,  or 
it  may  be  King  Arthur  himself.  The  face 
of  a  strong  Northern  type,  is  rendered  with 
real  artistic  power;  while  the  storied  corslet 
and  stole,  with  their  figures  and  ornament, 
give  equal  evidence  of  good  craftsmanship. 

Altogether,  tliis  collection  constitutes  in 
itself  a  small  marine  museum  which  should 
be  preserved  intact  as  a  memorial  of  the 
days  when  romance  colored  sea-faring  life, 
and  steamship  trusts  were  things  of  the 
distant  future. 


489 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


CLAY  MODELING.  AN  APPRECIA- 
TION OF  ITS  VAXUE.  BY  C.  VAL- 
ENTINE KIRBY 


O 


H,  yes,  making  mud  pies,"  and 
the  visitor's  face  beams  as  he 
enters  a  modeling  room,  for  al- 
though clay  properly  handled  is 
not  mud  in  any  sense,  there  is  something  so 
delightful  about  it,  that  visitors  almost  in- 
variably recall  their  nmd  pie  days.  Clay, 
however,  becomes  mud  only  in  the  hands  of 
the  most  inexperienced  persons.  In  its 
proper  condition  it  is  the  cleanest  plastic 
medium  known,  and  the  most  valuable  in  all 
the  world  as  a  means  to  develop  skill  in 
craftsmanship. 

Out  of  clay  our  remotest  ancestors 
fashioned  their  rugged  vessel  forms  and 
scratched  crude  designs  upon  them,  or 
created  the  grotesque  semblance  of  a  god. 
The  discoveries  of  clay  works  among  the 
remains  of  the  earliest  savage  tribes,  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  would  indicate  that  clay 
was  not  only  universally  used,  but  that  its 
use  antedated  drawing  and  painting. 

In  our  plan  of  art-education  to-day, 
drawing  has  a  firm  place  and  rightly  so,  but 
clay  modeling  as  a  factor  of  true  culture 
has  not  yet  come  to  its  own.  And  yet, 
drawing  might  better  be  omitted  than  clay 
modeling ;  for  while  drawing  is  the  repre- 
sentative of  form,  modeling  is  the  actual 
construction  of  form  and  means  personal 
contact  with  reality.  We  often  wonder  at 
the  feebleness  of  many  of  our  modern  artists 
and  artisans,  as  we  are  amazed  at  the  con- 
summate skill  of  a  Ghiberti,  a  Donatello,  a 
Cellini,  or  a  Michelangelo.  We  aspire  to 
reach  the  heights  attained  by  them,  but  we 
ar6  not  willing  to  follow  the  trail  which  they 


blazed.  They  were  craftsmen  and  not 
ashamed  of  it,  and  they  put  art  into  the 
humblest  utensils,  considering  them  worthy 
of  their  skill.  Donatello  was  equally  skilled 
in  the  art  of  working  in  clay,  marble-cut- 
ting, wood-carving,  and  the  chasing  of  pre- 
cious metals. 

Ghiberti  and  Cellini  sketched  in  clay  and 
wax  the  thoughts  which  found  permanence 
in  gold,  silver,  or  bronze.  And  there  are 
still  in  existence  little  clay  studies  of  human 
anatomy  which  Michelangelo  executed,  in 
preparation  for  the  marble  statue.  In 
huihling  up  the  form  in  clay,  he  built  up  a 


Figurf  I.    Modeling  tools 

counterpart  in  his  own  mind,  and  in  the 
block  of  marble  which  might  have  had  no 
meaning  or  value  to  others,  IMichelangelo 
saw  a  slave  struggling  for  freedom  and 
released  him. 

The  best  art  schools  in  this  country  and 
Europe  require  clay  modeling,  and  it  is  to 
be  observed  that  those  who  model,  render 
form  on  a  flat  surface  better  than  those  who 
give  their  attention  to  drawing  alone.  A 
drauglitsman  may  soon  forget  the  model  who 
posed  for  him,  but  the  modeler  is  able  to 
draw  from  memory  in  many  positions  the 
model  he  has  made  perhaps  years  before. 
Drawing  means  the  interpretation  of  a  sin- 
gle view ;  while  claj-modeling  requires  the 
actual  construction  of  many  views,  and  de- 


CLAY    MODELING 


velops  the  muscular  sense  and  man's  master 
sense  of  toucli.  Fdf  tlie  hand  with  count- 
less nerve  fibers  in  eacli  finger  tip,  is  man's 
only  direct  means  of  contact  with  his  envi- 
ronment. With  it  he  becomes  cognizant  of 
hard  and  soft,  rough  and  smooth,  hot  and 
cold,  heavy  and  light.  It  is  the  hand  which 
models  our  statues,  paints  our  pictures, 
fashions  our  dwelling  and  constructs  our 
machines,  and  yet,  even  in  these  days  of 
manual  traiiiiiis:,  there  are  countless  schools 


It  is  the  purpose  of  this  article  to  show 
how  clay  can  be  used  with  very  little  trouble 
in  the  school  room,  work-shop  or  home. 
They  who  are  training  our  children,  as  a 
rule,  have  no  liking  for  clay,  because  they 
are  ignorant  of  its  proper  care  and  treat- 
ment. 

Clay  is  found  everywhere,  but  in  its  nat- 
ural state  it  is  rarely  available,  until  it  is 
freed  from  gritty  impurities.  A  pottery 
of  some  kind  is  generally  at  hand,  at  which 


all  over  the  country  which  are  training  this 
marvelous  member  to  write  and  figure  only. 
Clay  modeling  offers  the  best  general  train- 
ing in  accurate  vision  and  skilful  handling, 
preparatory  to  a  hundred  crafts,  and  it  is 
so  inexpensive  that  the  poorest  rural  school 
can  offer  it :  an  advantage  which  is  in  keep- 
ing with  these  days  of  craft  revival.  Sure- 
l}-,  people  would  not  willingly  withhold  such 
a  valuable  medium  of  expression,  if  they  ap- 
preciated its  value  and  understood  its  uses. 


clay  can  be  purchased  ready  for  innnediate 
use,  at  one,  or  one  and  a  half  cents  the 
pound.  The  qualit}'  of  the  cla^'  depends, 
of  course,  upon  the  quality  of  the  potter's 
product.  If  he  manufactures  coarse  jars, 
his  cla}'  necessarily  will  not  be  so  fine  as  that 
of  the  maker  of  high  class  wares.  In  the 
latter  case,  the  clay  is  not  only  filtered  thor- 
oughly, but  it  is  afterward  forced  through 
the  fine  fibers  of  many  heavy  canvas  strain- 
ers. 


491 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


When  the  clay  is  received,  it  should  be 
placed  in  a  wooden  receptacle  (a  common 
soap  box  will  answer),  with  damp  cloths  at 
the  top.  Nearly  every  book  on  the  subject 
advises  tlie  use  of  earthen  jars,  but  from 
this  use  great  difficulty  is  occasioned.  The 
clay  on  the  top  is  inclined  to  be  too  hard  for 
use,  while  tluit  near  the  bottom  is  sticky 
mud.  A  wooden  case,  on  the  contrary,  will 
ab^o^b  the  superfluous  moisture,  and  the 
clay,  even  at  the  bottom,  will  be  found  pli- 
al)l('  ami  plastic,  without  -.tick- 
ins  to  or  soilinff  the  fingers  in 
any  way.  If  the  moisture  ex- 
tend beyond  the  box  to  the  floor, 
a  tin  or  zinc  ]>;ui  iiL'n'  l)e  ]>ut  on 
the  outside,  hut  never  on  the 
inside. 

The  care  of  tlie  clay  is  tlie 
most  imjKirtaiit  consideration, 
for  if  the  substance  is  too  v.et, 
it  ean  not  be  used,  and  if  it  is 
too  hard,  tlie  children  will  ri'liel. 
l-'-itiier  the  <'l()th  on  \\\v  top  of 
the  clay  may  be  kept  moist,  or 
the  clay  may  be  sprayed  with  an 
atomizer.  A  garden  trowel  is  an 
excellent  tool  for  removing  the 
clay  from  the  box.  Oidy  tlie  clav  for  im- 
mediate use  should  be  handled,  for  the  heat 
from  tlie  hands  dries  it  and  reduces  its  ])las- 
tic  quality.  As  fast  as  crumbs  accumulate, 
they  should  be  picked  up  by  a  larger  piece 
to  which  they  will  readily  adhere.  In  this 
way  no  litter  will  result,  and  no  evidences  of 
clay  will  remain. 

Ordinarily  slates,  boards,  or  strips  of  oil 
cloth,  sliould  be  provided,  on  which  to  con- 
fine the  work.  Common  roofing  slates  are 
excellent,  and  when  it  is  desired  to  preserve 

HI.' 


the  study  in  a  moist  condition,  a  damp  cloth 
may  be  laid  on  top  of  the  model.  A  good 
method  is  to  slide  the  slates  on  little  cleats 
into  a  closet.  This  is  a  great  economy  of 
space,  and  many  may  1)0  moistened  at  one 
time  with  an  atomizer. 

There  are  some  who  obj  ect  to  clay  in  edu- 
cational work,  because  they  are  afraid  that 
its  repeated  use  might  result  in  the  propaga- 
tion of  disease  germs.  But  the  Board  of 
Health  in  one  of  our  largest  cities  reported 


FiL'Uiv  Hi. 


Pit  |mi-:iti>i-y  clay  hmmIi-I.  with  coiuplctfil  hainl  niirrcr 
rarvcfl  ill  liijiti'ii^atiy 

tliat  such  a  result  is  most  improbable  and 
recommended  its  continued  use.  If  the  clay 
is  allowed  at  intervals  to  dry  thorouglily,  it 
will  purify  itself  in  the  process.  When 
clay  is  dry  and  hard,  it  should  be  broken 
into  small  pieces  and  if  water  be  frequently 
added,  through  a  cloth  on  tojj,  in  a  few 
days,  it  will  be  ready  again  for  use.  An  oil 
cloth  cover  placed  over  any  moist  model  will 
greatly  reduce  tiie  evaporation. 

Although  modeling  tools  are  a  necessity 
in  clav  work,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 


CLAY    MODELING 


It  is  tlie  fcelino'  in  the  finojcrs  wliicli  sliould 
be  cultivated,  and  that  tools  are  made  for 
the  small  detail  work  which  the  fingers  are 
not  able  to  do.  These  tools  are  generally 
of  polished  box  wood,  although  some  made 
from  wire  are  useful  in  many  wa3\s.  Good 
tools  arc  made  from  tlie  closest  grained 
Hoods  onl\ ,  and  niu<t  \)r  krpt  clo/ui  ;  for  if 


to  cost  more  than  ten  cents.  Kindergarten 
children  do  not  need  tools,  hut  can  do  their 
work  witii  their  hands  and  some  pointed 
stick,  or  pencil,  for  indicating  e^-es  or 
feathers  on  a  surface. 

Small  children  not  only  develop  great 
dexterity  in  clay  work,  hut  the  attem])t  real- 
ly to  make  a  tish.  or  l)ir(l,  calls  forth  such 


F'it^urt-  I\'.     Iris  inoii<'h-'i  l)y  piipi!  preparatory  t 


any  clay  he  allowed  to  adiiere  to  them,  they 
will  drag  the  clay  and  injure  the  model. 

While  the  professional  modeler  has  many 
kinds  of  tools,  one  or  two  will  answer  for  the 
young  craftsman.  A  tool  from  six  to  eight 
inches  long  with  one  end  shaped  like  a  knife 
blade  and  the  other  sjxxm  shaped,  will  be 
sufficient  for  ordinary  work,  and  ought  not 


«  illiiig  altcniion  and  awakens  such  curiosity 
that  parents  arc  delighted  to  sec  their  cliil- 
dren  acquiring  knowledge  first  hand,  instead 
of  from  books.  Suppose  a  boy  makes  a 
hen's  egg  in  clay,  then  places  a  ball  upon 
the  larger  end,  which  he  gradually  converts 
into  a  head,  thus  evolving  I'rom  the  whole  a 
duck  or  a  chicken.      While  the  object  may 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


be  grotesque,  it  will  compel  the  child  to  note 
the  next  time  that  he  sees  the  bird,  the  exact 
number  of  its  toes,  or  the  shape  of  its  bill,  or 
whatever  detail  that  gave  him  trouble. 
Fruit  and  vegetable  forms  and  those  of  rep- 
tiles and  birds  are  a  source  of  profitable 
pleasure  to  a  child,  and  not  mere  busy  work. 
After  the  clay  has  dried,  additional  pleasure 
may  be  gained  and  a  feeling  of  reality 
created  by  allowing  the  children  to  color 
their  studies  with  common  water  colors,  a 
banana  yellow,  or  an  apple  red.  The  mold- 
ing of  little  cups,  saucers  and  other  vessel 
shapes,  is  a  valuable  exercise.  The  vases  in 
the  illustration  (No.  2)  were  made  by  six- 


year-old  chiklren.  When  the  shapes  were 
dry,  they  were  taken  to  a  pottery  at  which 
for  ten  cents  each  they  were  glazed  and 
fired.  They  are  hollow,  hold  water,  and  are 
the  pride  of  a  number  of  fond  parents. 

If  the  model  is  to  be  left  dry  or  bake,  each 
piece  of  claj-  must  be  well  incorporated  with 
its  neighbor,  or  it  will  break  apart.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  clay  shrinks  in  drying, 
and  again  in  firing,  and,  therefore,  the  clay 
model  should  be  made  larger  than  the  size 
desired.  The  benefit  to  be  derived  from  the 
correlation  of  modeling  with  nearly  every 
school  study,  can  not  be  over-estimated. 
Many  of  us  have  forgotten  our  geography, 

4-94 


because  we  were  expected  to  assimilate  its 
dry  facts,  but  not  so  with  the  child  who 
models  the  plan  of  a  country,  the  home  and 
sled  of  the  Esquimaux,  or  the  Pyramids  and 
other  characteristic  features  of  ancient 
Egypt.  Thus,  our  knowledge  clings  to  us 
as  do  our  experiences. 

There  is  hardly  a  study  from  botany  to 
geology  that  could  not  be  made  more  valu- 
able and  interesting,  if  correlated  with  mod- 
eling. In  one  school,  children  engaged  in 
studying  Phj'sical  Geography  have  mod- 
eled the  different  formations  of  earth,  strata 
of  rocks,  coastal  plains,  etc.  These  were 
cast  in  plaster  and  remain  as  valuable  illus- 
trations. 

It  is  quite  common  to  discover  advanced 
boys  and  girls  who  have  drawn  for  years, 
and  yet  show  that  they  are  not  sure  which 
lines  they  have  made  to  represent  a  form, 
and  which  to  afford  the  background.  Many 
times  this  feeble  understanding  of  real 
shape  lies  undeveloped  for  years,  and  pupils 
go  on  making  drawings  which  to  them  are  a 
confused,  incomprehensible  mass  of  lines. 
They  may,  for  instance,  draw  a  cube  in 
perspective  many  times,  but  they  never  know 
every  edge,  angle,  or  surface,  as  they  do 
when  they  take  a  sphere  of  clay  which  they 
feel  is  round  all  over,  and  which  they  grad- 
ually convert  by  tapping  different  parallel 
sides,  until  the  sharp  edges  of  the  perfect 
cube  appear.  They  gain  by  this  means  a 
better  understanding  of  a  cubic  shape  than 
results  from  a  hundred  drawings. 

A  bo}-  stai'ts  to  carve  a  piece  of  wood :  if 
he  has  drawn  only  and  never  modeled,  the 
block  of  wood  means  nothing  but  the  guide 
lines  on  its  surface,  and  he  often  cuts  away 
the  very  part  that  should  remain.  But  let 
him  model  the  form  which  he  is  to  carve 


CLAY    M(M)F.LTXC 


(illustrations  3  and  4),  and,  as  he  fashions 
it  witli  his  fingers,  he  also  fashions  the  same 
in  his  mind.  Then  tlie  block  of  wood  or  any 
other  concrete  substance  has  a  new  interest. 
It  is  no  longer  a  mere  block,  but  it  is  the 
abode  of  beautiful  acanthus  leaves  or  of 
spring  flowers. 

In  industrial  and  manual  training  insti- 
tutions, when  boys  and  girls  meet  concrete 
form  for  the  first  time,  clay  modeling  con- 
stitutes tlie  basis  for  the  know  ledge  of  real- 
ity that  must  later  be  used  in  shaping  woods 
and  metals. 

Clodding  is  the  direct  opposite  of  marble- 
cutting,  wood  carving  or  metal  work,  in  that 
the  latter  processes  always  require  cutting 
away  in  order  to  release  form,  while  model- 
ing, except  in  accenting  details,  is  always  a 
process  of  building  up  from  a  smaller  to  a 
larger  form. 

For  relief  work  we  generally  make  a  tile 
first  upon  the  slate  or  board,  and,  following 
out  Michelangelo's  injunction  to  "carry  our 
instruments  of  precision  in  the  eye  instead 
of  tiie  hand,"  we  should  endeavor  to  make 
this  tile  and  draw  the  ornament  upon  it,  as 
far  as  possible  without  artificial  aids.  A 
straiglit  edge  may  be  drawn  over  the  surface 
to  smooth  it  for  the  design,  which  should  be 
drawn  boldl}',  without  fear  or  hesitation; 
since,  in  this  case,  there  is  no  danger  of 
spoiling  the  material.  (When  we  see  so 
frequently  this  hesitation  and  fear  on  the 
part  of  the  children  who  draw,  we  regret  it 
most  heartily,  for  spontaneity'  is  the  basis 
upon  wliich  all  forms  of  expression  should 
be  founded.  In  drawing,  however,  some 
teachers  are  so  afraid  that  the  child  will 
spoil  the  paper,  that  they  spoil  the  child 
instead). 

After  the  drawing  on  tiie  tile  hus  beeen 


corrected,  tiie  form  can  be  built  up  between 
the  proper  lines.  If  the  object  be  a  head  or 
a  flower,  the  planes  of  the  relief  will  be  made 
relative  to  the  plane  on  the  solid  object,  and 
the  accented  portions  will  be  treated  in  pro- 
jiortion  to  the  height  of  the  relief. 

If  the  form  to  be  built  up  is  a  decorative 
arrangement,  the  tools  will  be  found  neces- 
sary to  give  the  large,  graceful  movement 
of  line,  and  for  modeling  tiie  shadow  edge 
of  each  part.  In  this  work,  the  hand  should 
move  in  direct  and  unrestricted  sweeps. 

In  modeling  a  form  in  the  round,  there 
arc  three  waj's  of  securing  results.  The 
usual  way  is  to  work  by  lines.  The  model 
is  frequcntl}-  turned,  and  tlie  clay  work  to 
correspond,  so  that  the  lines  of  each  may  be 
compared  and  made  alike.  In  large  life 
modeling  classes,  the  model  is  turned  every 
fifteen  minutes,  and  the  students  are  required 
to  keep  their  work  in  line  with  the  model  at 
each  turn. 

One  may  also  model  by  light  and  shade. 
The  light  falling  on  both  model  and  clay 
work  from  one  side,  should  give  like  shadow 
shapes  on  both.  If  they  are  not  alike,  the 
worker  must  build  here,  or  cut  down  tliere, 
until  they  coincide.  The  third  method  is 
to  trust  almost  entirely  to  our  sense  of  touch, 
which  will  be  eyes  to  us,  as  to  the  blind,  if  we 
will  cultivate  its  delicate  power  of  percep- 
tion. 

I"'or  ordinary  work  the  embryo  craftsman 
does  not  require  a  frame  work  on  which  to 
build  his  clay,  providing  it  be  wedged  well 
into  shape,  but  in  figure  work  a  skeleton,  or 
armature,  is  required. 

Modeling  wax  or  composition  clay  is  best 
adapted  to  small  detail  work.  It  requires 
no  moistening,  and,  after  the  cast  has  been 
made,  the  wax  may  be  used  again.     The 

495 


TUE    CRAFTSMAN 


composition  is  purchased  under  the  name  of 
plastina  or  plastiline,  at  about  thirty  cents 
the  pound.  As  tlie  model  is  often  a  thing 
of  beauty  in  the  pliable  condition,  it  may  be 
made  a  joy  forever,  and  every  finger  mark 
preserved  by  firing  or  casting. 

Some  knowledge  of  Plaster  of  Paris  cast- 
ing should  be  possessed  b}-  everj'  one.  While 
it  is  a  mechanical  process,  at  the  same  time. 


When  the  water  seems  no  longer  to  absorb 
the  plaster,  the  mixture  should  be  stirred, 
under  the  surface,  as  much  as  possible,  to 
keep  the  air  out,  until  the  plaster  has  the 
consistency  of  thick  milk  or  cream ;  then, 
some  of  the  plaster  should  be  poured  upon 
the  clay  or  wax,  and  blown  well  over  the 
surface,  so  that  all  air  bubbles  may  be  re- 
moved, and  the  smallest  recess  covered.  Now 


Fiiruic  VI.    V:i-i-  ixi- 

DHL'  must  experience  both  failures  and  suc- 
cesses, before  he  can  be  certain  of  the  result 
desired. 

The  illustration  represents  one  of  the 
simplest  methods  of  casting.  First,  there 
is  constructed  a  wall  of  clay,  about  an  inch 
higii  and  the  same  distance  from  the  model. 
The  finest  plaster  obtainable  is  then  mixed, 
dental  plaster  being  most  desirable.  The 
plaster  should  be  sprinkled  into  the  water, 
not  the  water  poured  upon  the  plaster. 
496 


■jittd  i-iiTirt-ly  liy  hami 


the  entire  model  should  be  well  covered. 
Coarser  plaster  will  do  for  the  outside  of 
the  mold. 

After  the  plaster  has  been  allowed  to 
"set"  for  about  an  hour,  the  wall  may  be 
removed,  and  the  clay,  or  wax,  cleaned  from 
the  inside  of  the  mold,  which  should  be  thor- 
oughly cleaned  and  dried  (placing  near  the 
fire  will  hasten  the  drying  process). 

\'aseline,  or  some  other  grcasj'  or  soapy 
substance,  should  be  applied  with  a  small 


CLAY   modeling; 


lini^li  to  tilt'  inside  i)t'  the  mold,  in  order  to 
prrMiit  the  plaster  cast  from  adhesion. 
When  the  mold  has  been  thorou<T;lilv  washed 
"  ith  soapy  «ater,  a  solution  of  soda  or  lye 
ean  he  shaken  over  the  inside  of  tiic  mold 
and  will  answer  the  same  purpose  as  the  vas- 
,  eline.  Now  more  plaster  should  be  mixed 
and  poured  into  the  mold,  the  plaster  should 
he  well  hlown  over  the  surface,  as  before,  and 
while  the  plaster  is  setting-,  a  loop  of  copper 
wire  should  be  inserted  at  the  top  for  sus- 
pending the  cast.  If  there  are  no  undercuts 
in  the  model,  the  cast  may  be  pried  out  at 
the  end  of  an  hour,  and  the  same  mold  will 
answer  for  dui)licate  casts.  I5ut  if  there 
are  undercuts  in  the  model,  the  mold  will 
have  to  be  carefully  clipped  away  from  the 
cast  with  mallet  and  chisel. 

This  is  called  a  waste  mold,  and  when 
such  an  one  is  necessary,  it  is  well  to  pour  a 
few  drops  of  blucinrr  or  other  color  into  the 
plaster;  so  that  the  line  of  demarcation  be- 
tween the  bluish  mold  and  the  white  cast 
may  be  readily  determined.  In  casting  a 
bust  or  statue,  a  piece  mold  is  necessary 
Thin  sheets  of  copper  may  be  stuck  into  the 
clay  model  in  order  to  separate  the  pieces  of 
plaster  where  necessary;  or  part  of  the 
model  may  be  covered  at  a  time,  and  the 
edges  greased,  before  the  covering  is  con- 
tinued. When  sufficiently  hard,  these  pieces 
may  ije  removed  with  little  trouble.  I'ro- 
fcssional  workers  in  plaster  generally  use 
gelatine  or  glue  molds,  and  these  are  so 
elastic  that  the  casts  arc  removed  from  tliem 
"jth  less  difficulty  than  from  tiie  ])laster 
molds. 

The  necessity  of  a  knowledge  of  casting 
in  all  kinds  of  pattern  making  and  many 
other  juirsuits,  makes  the  study  of  modeling 
important,  and  the  desire  to  cast  the  hand 


of  a  friend  is  not  unconnnon.  These  direc- 
tions for  casting  are  only  suggestions,  but 
an  article  on  clay  modeling  would  hardly  be 
comjjlete  without  some  reference  to  plastic 
casting. 

In  conclusion,  I  hope  that  I  have  inspired 
a  greater  respect  for  the  soil  that  often 
annoys  us  by  clinging  to  our  feet ;  for  it  is 
not  only  a  valuable  means  for  developing 
man's  marvelous,  God-given  instrument,  the 
human  hand,  but  when  confided  to  a  true 
craftsman,  it  may  be  made  to  reproduce  the 
smile  of  a  child  or  to  reveal  the  soul  of  a 
saint. 


JAP.WESE     ART. 
MORRIS 


HY     WILLIAM 


THE       Japanese       are       admiralile 
draughtsmen,      deft      beyond      all 
others   ill  mere  execution  of  what- 
ever  they   take   in   hand ;   and   also 
great  masters  of  stvie  within  certain  narrow 
limitations. 

As  a  non-architectural  race  they  have  no 
general  mastery  over  the  arts  and  seem  to 
play  with  them  rather  than  to  tr^'  to  put 
their  souls  into  them.  In  Euroj)e  the  exist- 
ence of  the  other  arts  is  bound  U|)  with  that 
of  architecture. 

All  art  must  be  related  to  architecture. 
It  can  not  exist  in  any  place  where  there  is 
no  security. 

l'',artli(juakes  exercise  a  most  important 
])art  in  the  artistic  history  of  a  nation. 

Art  has  to  iiend  before  superior  sway  of 
|)hysical  ])iienomena. 

vj: 


49S 


A.   CRAFTSMAN    HOTSE 


A  Craftsman  House,  Series  of  1904.  Number  Two 


A    CR.\FTSMAN    HOUSE. 
OF  1904.  NUMBER  TWO 


SERIES 


THE  peculiar  conformation  of  his 
coast,  togetlier  with  certain  facts 
of  his  mountain-  a.id  river-systems, 
made  the  New  Englander  the  pion- 
eer in  America  of  vacation  enterprises.  He 
naturally  desired  to  enjoy  at  length  and  to 
the  full  the  beauties  which  he  half-perceived 
from  a  passing  train,  or  during  some  hur- 
ried professional  or  business  journey.  He 
thus  established  a  custom  which  neither  age, 
nor  long  use  can  stale  or  make  less  pleasur- 
able. Within  a  half-ccntur}',  the  annual 
vacation  period  has  l)cen  recognized  as  a 
necessity  by  all  classes  of  our  people,  in 
whatever  region  of  the  United  States  they 
may  chance  to  live. 

But  the  New  Englander  not  only  founded 
this  vitalh-  important  custom :  his  influence 
has  done  much  to  fix  the  time-limits  of  its 
annual  exercise.  He  was  the  first  to  scatter 
the  coast,  the  mountain  side  and  the  river 
bank  with  distinctive  summer  homes,  and  so 
to  demonstrate  their  value,  or  rather,  their 
necessity,  in  the  economy  of  our  national 
life. 


As  the  years  pass,  it  is  recognized  that 
neither  mental  nor  physical  energy  can  be 
restored  by  a  few  da3s,  or  weeks,  passed  at 
some  inn,  crowded  with  a  throng  as  motley 
as  ever  congregated  on  the  Rialto.  It  is 
known  that  the  means  of  restoration  lie  in 
the  freedom,  quiet  and  rest  afforded  by  the 
summer  cottage,  so  constructed  as  to  permit 
of  earh'  opening  and  of  late  departure. 

With  the  coming  and  the  rapid  dispersion 
of  this  knowledge,  the  time  for  making  sum- 
mer plans  has  been  retired  from  the  Spring 
— in  New  England,  from  the  April  Fast 
Da}' — far  backward  into  the  winter.  The 
month  of  February  has  been  chosen  as  the 
most  proj)itious  period  in  which  to  devise 
the  scheme  of  family  life  for  the  following 
summer,  and  this  with  good  reason.  Tiie 
January  dividends  and  contracts  have  then 
authoritatively  fixed  the  amount  of  incon-.o 
to  be  expected  for  a  twelvemonth.  There- 
fore, the  head  of  the  family  is  never  littler 
al)le  to  decide  between  localities,  to  choose 
an  architect,  to  accept  plans  for  the  cottage 
which  shall  provide  for  himself  and  his 
family  tiie  means  of  recuperation  necessary 
to  tlieir  happiness  and  success.  Further- 
more, the  Lenten  season,  of  social  retreat, 

499 


THE    C RAFTSMAN 


A  (Vaftsiiiaii  H..ii^i'.  Sirifs  of  1!I04,  NuiiiIht  Tw. 


iiDw  SO  generally  observed,  leaves  the  mind 
free  and  clear  to  form  purposes,  detect  diffi- 
culties and  ajipreciate  advantages.  Finally, 
at  Candlemas,  there  rises  the  first  wave  of 
the  "spring  feeling,''  comjielling  and  iri'e- 
sistiblc,  which  makes  us  all  poets.  We  recall 
that  our  English  cousins  are  already  at  their 
ploughs ;  that  the  islands  punctuating  their 
coasts  are  now  alie-ht  and  fragrant  with 
bloom.  So  r"ebruary  is,  at  least,  the  pro- 
phet and  forerunner  of  warmth,  light  and 
outdoor  freedom,  and  it  is  with  these  char- 
acteristics in  view  that  The  Craftsman  has 
ciiDst'n  the  House  plans  and  elevations  which 
are  ])rescnted  as  second  in  the  series  of 
twelve  ti>  lie  pul)]ished  in  its  pages  during 
the  year  1904. 


T 


HE  accompanying  designs  represent 
a  country  house  intended  for  sum- 
mer residence  in  almost  any  section 
(if  the  1 'lilted  States;  the  scheme  havinc 
been  especially  prepared  for  use  upon  the 
pictures(jue  island  of  ]Martha"s  Vineyard, 
Mas.sachusetts.  Those  who  are  familiar 
with   the   scenery — the   land-   and   the   sea- 


scape— of  the  place,  will  easily  recognize 
the  fitness  of  the  scheme  to  its  use.  They 
will  imagine  the  house,  rising  from  the  yel- 
low sand,  altogether  suited  in  contour  and 
color  to  its  baciground,  and  pi-ojecting 
against  a  gray  atmosphere,  its  mass  of 
darker  gray,  accented  by  a  bold,  projecting 
cornice.  It  is,  therefore,  removed  from  the 
insignificant,  which  is  the  first  requirement 
of  architectural  success. 

But  the  house  is,  as  well,  most  habitable, 
serviceable  and  practical.  It  is  simple  and 
direct  in  plan,  provided  with  every  urban 
means  of  sanitation,  and  placed  directly 
under  the  control  of  that  most  etficient  of 
health  officers — ventilation. 

The  house  has  a  stone  foundation  be- 
neath the  entire  structure;  but  the  cellar  is 
excavated  only  under  the  rear  wing.  This 
cellar  has  a  floor  of  cement,  and  openings 
for  ventilation  are  made  from  it  into  the 
large,  unexcavatcd  area.  The  foundations 
are  built  of  field  stone,  care  having  been 
taken  to  assure  a  decided  variation  of  shade 
and  effect ;  but.  in  some  places,  it  would  be 
desirable  to  use  for  the  purpose  some  stone 
peculiar  to  the  locality. 


500 


A    CRAFTSMAN    llOl'SE 


A   CRAFTJMAM  JiOOSr  ■  JERirS OF  1304:  '/fl/MBPR  mO- 


C720U/iI>  TZoOTi  PiAti 


Tlie  exterior  walls  of  the  house  are  en- 
tirely covered  with  cypress  shingles.  In  the 
cjLse  of  the  house  at  the  Vinej'ard,  these  shin- 
gles, neither  stained,  painted,  nor  otherwise 
treated,  have  been  left  to  weather  to  a  soft 
gray :  an  effect  which  is  there  in  keeping 
with  the  neutral  tints  of  the  great  surround- 


ing expanses  of  sky  and  water.  Bui  under 
more  brilliant  skies,  a  pigment  or  stain,  pro- 
perly chosen,  might  be  equally  agreeable  to 
the  eye.  The  shingles  must  be  made  from 
so-called  vertical-grained  wood.  They  must 
be  twenty  inches  long,  with  a  thickness  of  at 
least  one-half  inch  at  the  butt,  and  be  laid 


iOI 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


A  CPAFTjriAI'J  HOUJE-   jrPIfJ  OF  100^ AVne>lRTWO' 


\3^CO^£>  T^OOJS.  PlA/i- 


i-iglit  inches  to  tlio  weatlier.  At  the  front, 
the  cornice  line  is  to  be  finished  with  shin- 
•i'lcs ;  the  last  two  courses  being  cut  saw- 
toothed. 

The  roof  is  covered  with  red  cedar  shin- 
gles,  laid   five   and   one-half  inches   to   the 

M2 


weather;  the  change  from  the  wood  of  the 
wall  shingles  being  made  for  the  reason  that 
cedar  and  cypress,  weathering  differently, 
produce,  when  brought  together,  a  varied 
and  asreeable  color-scheme. 

The  chimneys  are  large  and  simple;  add- 


i03 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


ing  materially  to  the  quiet  effect  sought 
tliroughout  tlie  structure.  Tiiey,  lil;e  tlie 
foundations,  are  built  of  field  stones,  laid 
up  in  3"ello\v-white  mortar,  and  showing  full, 
heavy  joints:  a  treatment  which,  by  embed- 
ding the  stones  deeply  in  the  mortar,  gives 
the  masonry  a  thoroughly  consolidated  ap- 
pearance ;  the  field  stones  affording,  f urtlier- 
more,  a  vivacity  and  play  of  color  that  can 
be  gained  in  no  otiier  way. 

It  may  be  well  to  add  that  galvanized  iron 
hanging  gutters  are  provided  for  the  entire 
house. 

The  porch  pillars  are  of  chestnut,  slight- 
ly tapered  from  tlie  base  and  with  rounded 
edges.  The  frieze  is  of  the  same  wood, 
which,  in  both  instances,  is  stained  to  a 
gray-brown  tint.  The  usual  porch  railing 
is  here  replaced  by  a  solid  shingled  wall, 
serving  as  a  base  for  the  pillars,  as  well  as 
to  ])rotcct  the  occupants  from  the  wijid ; 
peniiitf  ing  also  the  porches  to  be  fitted  with 
wire  screens.  A  further  means  to  give  the 
porch-construction  air  and  ventilation  is 
afforded  by  the  floors,  which  are  laid  of 
pine-boards,  kept  one-quarter  incli  apart. 

Also,  the  construction  timber  of  the  sec- 
ond stor}'  projecting  over  the  porch,  is 
dressed  and  exposed:  the  spaces  over  the 
joints  being  filled  in  with  boards  and  bat- 
tens, and  a  three-inch  air  space  left  between 
this  ceiling  and  the  floor  above. 

The  window-  and  door-frames  are  of  pine, 
painted  in  dull  brown,  with  the  sash  in  an 
ivory-wliite  which  harmonizes  with  the  gray 
tone  of  the  exterior  and  is  grateful  to  the 
e^-e  on  a  warm  summer  day. 

If  we  pass  now  into  the  interior  of  the 
house,  we  find  it  be  satisfactory  from  an 
ai-chitectural  point  of  view,  in  that  the 
promises  made  by  tlie  exterior  are  all  ful- 


filled. That  is :  the  rooms  are  spacious  and 
inviting ;  all  receiving  light  and  air  from  at 
least  two  sides. 

The  principal  of  these,  the  living  room,  is 
entered  from  the  porch.  It  occupies  the 
entire  width  of  the  house,  presenting  the 
staircase  at  the  left,  and  a  strong,  simple 
fireplace  at  the  opposite  extremity.  This 
room  is  wainscoted  to  a  height  of  six  feet 
with  wide  boards,  capped  in  the  plainest 
manner.  Above  the  woodwork,  the  wall  is 
plastered,  while  the  ceiling  shows  exposed 
beams  of  cypress,  the  intervening  plaster 
being  left  rough,  "under  the  float."  The 
cypress  appearing  in  the  living  room,  is 
repeated  throughout  the  house ;  thus  afford- 
ing a  unity  of  base  for  decorative  effects, 
which  is  essential  in  a  small  and  plain  inte- 
rior. 

The  stair  is  protected  against  draughts 
by  a  glazed  screen  placed  on  tlie  second 
story.  This  device  becomes  decorative 
through  the  use  in  the  screen  of  glass  panels, 
in  soft  tones  of  buff,  set  in  wide,  flat  leads, 
and  showing  refined  designs. 

The  dining  room  opens  from  the  living 
room,  and  is  also  large,  light  and  pleasant. 
Here  the  wainscoting  is  but  four  feet  in 
height,  with  the  walls  above  plastered  and 
covered  with  a  decorative  canvas  or  other 
similar  fabric. 

The  bed  room  of  the  ground  floor,  en- 
tered from  the  living  room,  can,  by  means 
of  a  slight  constructive  modification,  be 
changed  into  a  study,  having  a  fireplace 
opposite  to  the  corresponding  feature  of 
the  dining  room.  Here,  a  plain  fabric  in 
light  indigo  blue  is  used  for  decoration,  with 
the  windows  draped  in  a  similar  material, 
showing  blue  figures  upon  an  ivory-white 
ground. 


504 


Corner  of  Living  Room,  Craftsman   House,  Series  of  1901,   Nunihir    Two 


505 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


The  remaining  portions  of  tlie  first  story, 
tiio  kitclien.  china  closet  and  pantry,  arc 
quite  separate  and  secluded;  the  provisions 
for  domestic  service  being  so  arranged  as 
not  to  interfere  with  the  open-air  life  of  tlie 
family.  In  these  rooms  the  finish  is  of  flat 
boards  with  rounded  edges  ;  the  walls  are 
])ainted:  the  floors  and  wainscoting  are  of 
linoleum  with  a  narrow  molding  at  all  edges. 

Tlie  second  story,  as  may  be  read  from 
the  plans,  was  designed  with  absolute  regard 
for  convenience.  It  contains  three  bed- 
rooms and  a  "den  ;"  the  latter  having  a  ceil- 
ing with  open  beams,  differing  from  those 
of  the  living  room  in  that  they  are  laid  flat 
and  project  very  slightly.  All  these  rooms 
are  decorated  with  simple  fabrics,  depending 
for  effect  uj>on  good  color  and  simple,  cor- 
rect design. 

The  closets  are  large  and  conveniently 
located ;  while  the  bath  i-oom  is  so  planned  as 
to  be  used  as  a  private  bath  from  bedroom 
"A."'  or  from  Iiedroom  "B  i"'  in  the  latter 
case,  by  the  arrangement  of  drapery  over 
the  contiguous  arch. 

As  in  the  case  of  tlie  service  department 
of  the  ground  floor,  the  maid's  room  and  the 
service  bath  of  the  second  story  are  isolated  ; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  they  are  easily  acces- 
sible from  the  kitchen. 

The  height  of  the  first  story  is  eight  and 
one-half  feet,  and  that  of  the  second  eight: 
these  modest  proportions  securing  better 
ventilation  and  a  more  homelike  effect  than 
could  be  obtained  in  a  more  pretentious 
house. 

Finally,  it  remains  only  to  estimate  the 
cost  of  the  structure,  which  will  vary  accord- 
ing to  locality,  and  the  consequent  ease  or 
difficulty  in  securing  proper  building  mate- 
rials. •    But  it  may  be  safely  stated  that  the 

r>06 


entire    expenses    should    not,    in    any    case, 
greatly  exceed  three  thousand  dollars. 

PRESENT     CONDITIONS     OF    THE 
HOME 

WE  find  in  a  modern  home  of 
the  better  class  peculiar  war- 
ring conditions,  in  the  adjust- 
ment of  which  health  and 
comfort  are  by  no  means  assured.  The 
more  advanced  the  home  and  its  inhabitants, 
the  more  we  find  complexity  and  difficulty, 
with  elements  of  discomfort  and  potential 
disease  involved  in  the  integral — supposedly 
integral — processes  of  the  place.  The 
more  lining  and  stuffing  there  are,  the  more 
w;iste  matter  fills  the  air  and  settles  contin- 
ually as  dust ;  the  more  elaborate  the  home, 
the  more  labor  is  required  to  keep  it  fit  for 
a  healthy  animal  to  live  in;  the  more  labor 
required,  the  greater  the  wear  and  tear  on 
l)oth  heads  of  the  family. 

The  conditions  of  health  in  a  representa- 
tive modern  homo  are  by  no  means  what  we 
are  capable  of  compassing. 

We  consider  "antiseptic  cleanliness"  as 
belonging  onlv  to  hospitals,  and  are  content 
to  spend  our  daily,  and  nightly,  lives  in  con- 
ditions of  septic  dirt. 

As  to  beauty :  we  have  not  much  general 
knowledge  of  beauty,  either  in  instinct  or 
training;  yet,  even  with  such  as  we  have, 
how  ill  satisfied  it  is  in  the  average  home. 
The  outside  of  the  house  is  not  beautiful ; 
the  inside  is  not  beautiful ;  the  decorations 
and  furnishings  are  not  beautiful.  But  as 
education  progresses  and  money  accumu- 
lates, we  hire  "art-decorators,"  and  try  to 
creep  along  the  line  of  advance. 

A  true,  natural  and  legitimate  home 
beauty  is  rare  indeed. 


i'AHLK    SCARFS 


TABLE  SCARrs  WITII   INDIAN  DE- 
SIGNS 

THE  acconipanyinjT  dcsitrns  for  table 
scarfs  are  modifications  of  North 
-Viiiericau  Indian  motifs.  Tiiey 
arc  cnibroiilered,  witli  linen  floss, 
ii})i)M  Craftsman  linen  of  natural  color,  in 
tile  manner  known  as  "couching."  This 
stitch  serves  to  outline  the  design,  as  well  as 
to  fasten  the  appUqiit'  of  various  colors  of 
the  same  fabric  as  that  which  forms  the 
bodv  of  the  scarfs. 


Nliliilii-r  1 

The  design  of  number  one  was  suggested 
l)v  "the  cross  of  life."  The  colors  used  in 
the  applique  are  burnt  orange,  maroon  and 
dark  green;  wliilc  all  outlines  are  done  in 
brown. 

Number  two,  the  tree  motif,  shows  a  color 
scheme  of  dark  green  and  burnt  orange, 
with  the  couching  in  dull  blue. 

Number  three  is  the  "Thunder  Bird" 
design.  Ill  tiiis  case,  the  large  figure  appear- 


Nuiiibtr  2 

in  maroon,  with  the  feather-marks  in  ecru; 
while  all  sides  of  the  scarf  are  hemstitched, 
instead  of  being  outlined,  as  in  the  other 
instances,  with  a  "couched"  cord. 


.NiuiiImt  ;( 


507 


KN(.Llsn     INTKHIORS 


RECENT     ENGLISH 
TREATMENTS 


INTERIOR 


T 


1 1  K  sclicmos  for  interior  decoration 
liere  presented,  are  among  tlie  lat- 
est productions  of  the  household 
art  of  England.  The}^  are  typical 
designs :  less  complicated  than  the  work  of 
the  corresponding  French  and  Belgian 
schools,  mucii  more  restrained  than  the  ex- 
amples which  reach  us  from  the  Austrian 
decorators.  Tliey  are,  furthermore,  quite 
distinct  from  equally  characteristic  schemes 


which,  from  time  to  time,  are  devised  in 
America.  Indeed,  they  have  no  need  to  be 
described  as  English,  for  they  would  be 
recognized  as  such  by  the  eye  of  even  slight 
training  in  the  decorative  arts. 

In  the  cabinet  work  we  find  here  no  sub- 
tlety of  contour  based  upon  plant  forms, 
such  as  occurs  in  the  Art  Xoiiveau  Bing; 
nor  yet  the  wavy,  non-structural,  and,  there- 
fore, dangerous  line  of  the  ^'iennese  design- 
ers. There  is  a  pronounced  simplicity  of 
plan  which  approaches  the  primitive  ;  crudc- 
ni-s  of  effect  being  prevented  bj'  the  refine- 


Kit'ir"--  II 


50ft 


I 


•)10 


ENGLISH  IXTKIUORS 

ment  of  finish  and  color  wliicli  are  can-fully  national  types,  as.  for  instance,  the  English 

given  to  tlie  wood.      In  this  respect,  they  Coronation  scat. 

resemble  tlie  best  examples  of  the  American  The  textiles,  as  regards  Ijotii  color  and 
structural  stvle,  differing  from  the  latter,  design,  show  the  influence  of  decorators  such 
principally  in  the  grouping  by  twos  and  as  Morris  and  ("raiu' :  of  tin- former  especial- 
threes  of  the  upright  members,  as  seen  in  the  ly  in  the  broad  tree-frieze;  of  the  latter  in 
leffs  of  the  tables,  in  the  backs  of  the  chairs,  the  hurdle-race  of  animals,  which  forms  the 


I-'igure  1  \' 

and  in  the  railing  of  the  nursery  bedstead;  psittiTii  for  the  frieze  of  the  nursery   wall, 
also,  in  moldings   of  strong   profile   which  The  color-scheme  employed  in  the  diiiing- 

form,  as  it  were,  the  cornices  of  the  backs  of  room  treatment  (Figures  I.  and  11.)  is  one 

chairs,  seats  and  buffets.     Finally,  there  is  of  contra.st:  being  conij)osed  of  a  deep-toned 

a  touch  of  quaintness,  quite  indefinable,  but  red,  combined  with  a  soft  green :  such  colors 

certainly    present    in    one    or    two    of    the  ami  contrast  as  one  finds  in  the  petals  and 

nursery    chairs,    which    recalls    very    early  the  foliage  of  a  rose. 

.'.II 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


The  walls  are  covered  with  a  green  fabric  ; 
while  the  deep  frieze  is  red,  and  upon  this 
color,  as  a  background,  the  design  appears 
in  heliotrope  and  green,  with  the  fruits  of 
the  trees  in  brass.  These  colors  are  repeat- 
ed in  the  curtains,  which  are  of  red  material, 
with  needle-work  designs  in  green  and  gold. 
The  red  is  once  more  used  in  the  tapestry  of 
the  cliairs,  which  combines  agreeably  with 
their  frames  of  dull,  waxed  oak:  a  wood  and 
finish  found  in  all  the  remaining  furniture, 
and  the  "trim""  of  the  room  itself. 

Figures  III.  and  IV.  present  a  combina- 
tion of  a  day  with  a  night  nurserj' ;  the 
sections  being  separated  by  portieres. 

In  this  treatment,  a  point  of  interest  is 
made  bv  the  chinmcy  piece  with  its  archi- 
tectural cupboard,  and  its  fire-guard,  which 
latter  is  executed  in  steel  and  brass,  upon 
the  same  structural  plan  as  that  used  in  the 
cabinet  making.  The  central  panel  of  this 
guard  is,  in  reality,  a  door,  while  the  lateral 
(lixi^icms  are  stationary. 

The  woodwork  and  furniture  are  here  of 
oak,  with  the  color-scheme  executed  in  green 
and  cream. 

DOMESTIC  ART.     BY  CHARLOTTE 
GILI\IAX  PERKINS 

THE  magpie  instinct  of  the  collector 
has  no  part  in  a  genuine  sense  of 
beauty.  An  ostentatious  exhibit 
of  one's  v.uluable  possessions  does 
not  sliow  the  sense  of  beauty.  A  lieautiful 
chamber  is  neither  show-room  nor  museum. 
That  personal  "taste"  in  itself  is  no  guide 
to  beauty  needs  but  little  proof.  The 
"taste"  of  the  Flathead  Indian,  of  the  tat- 
toed  Islander,  of  all  the  grades  of  physical 
deformity  which  mankind  has  admired,  is 


sufficient  to  show  that  a  personal  preference 
is  no  ground  for  judgment  in  beauty. 

Beauty  has  laws  and  appreciation  of 
them  is  not  possessed  equally  by  all.  The 
more  primitive  and  ignorant  a  race,  or  class, 
the  less  it  knows  of  true  beauty. 

The  Indian  basket-makers  wove  beautiful 
things,  but  they  did  not  know  it ;  give  them 
the  cheap  and  ugly  productions  of  our 
greedy  "mai'ket"  and  they  like  them  better. 
They  may  unconsciously  produce  beauty, 
but  thev  do  not  consciously  select  it. 

Our  women  are  far  removed  from  the 
primitive  simplicity  that  produces  uncon- 
scious beauty ;  and  they  are  also  far  re- 
moved from  that  broad  culture  and  wide 
view  of  life  which  can  intellectually  grasp 
it.  They  have  neither  the  natural  instinct 
nor  the  acquired  knowledge  of  beauty  ;  but 
they  do  have,  in  million-fold  accumulation, 
a  "personal  taste."  The  life  of  the  woman 
in  the  home  is  absolutely  confined  to  per- 
sonal tletails.  Her  field  of  study  and  of 
work  is  not  calculated  to  develop  large  judg- 
ment. She  is  forced  continually  to  con- 
template and  minister  to  the  last  details  of 
the  physical  wants  of  humanity  in  ceaseless 
daily  repetition. 

The  very  rich  woman  who  can  purchase 
others'  things  and  others'  judgment,  or  the 
exceptional  woman  who  does  work  and  study 
in  some  one  line,  may  show  development  in 
the  sense  of  beauty ;  but  it  is  not  produced 
at  home. 

Being  familiar,  we  bear  with  our  sur- 
roundings, perhaps  even  love  them ;  when 
we  go  into  each  other's  homes  we  do  not 
think  their  things  to  be  beautiful ;  we  think 
ours  are  because  we  are  used  to  them ;  we 
have  no  appreciation  of  an  object  in  its 
relation  to  the  rest,  or  its  lack  of  relation. 


MANUAL   TRAINING 


MANUAL  TRAINING  AND  THE  DE- 
\ELOPMENT  OE  TASTE 

A  S  was  announced  at  the  beginning  of 

/^       tlie    year,    The    Craftsman    will 

/      %    pubhsli  in  each  issue  for  190i,  an 

illustrated  article  designed  to  meet 

the  needs  of  amateur  craftsmen,  such  as  are 

included   among  the   pupils   of  our  public 


views  and  working  drawings  of  certain  sim- 
ple pieces  of  cabinet-making. 

The  present  article,  second  in  the  series 
of  twelve,  supplements  the  first  by  offering 
illustrations  of  a  number  of  objects  of 
household  furniture  which  are  usually  con- 
structed of  wood.  These  illustrations  will 
1)0  followed  in  the  future  by  still  other  exam- 
ples, until  a  number  and  variety  of  pieces 


schools,  or  yet  older  persons  who  turn  to  shall  be  presented,  sufficient  to  meet  the 
manual  exercise  as  a  productive  and  useful  needs  of  a  modest  home.  Subsequently,  the 
means  of  recreation.  lessons,  for  such  these  articles  are  intended 


The  first  article,  as  will  be  found  by  refer-  to  be,  will  be  directed  toward  the  production 

once  to  the  January  number  of  the  maga-  of  metal  work,  and  the  treatment  of  simple 

zine,  beside  announcing  the  plan  to  be  fol-  I'.ibrics  as  an  effective  and  beautiful  means 

lowed    in    the    series,    contains    perspective  of  household  decoration. 

513 


THE   CllAFTSMAN 


The  instructor  of  the  scliool-craftsinaii 
lias  before  him  a  task  pleasant  and  easy,  if 
it  be  compared  with  the  difficulties  confront- 
ing the  older  workman  who  would  execute 
real  objects  after  the  models  which  are  here 
presented.  Such  difficulties,  although  not 
arising  from  conditions  of  material  or  con- 
struction, are  no  less  iiard  to  overcome  than 
if  they  were  of  external  origin.  They  re- 
side in  the  mind  of  tlic  workman,  obscuring 


his  perception  and,  at  first,  disaffccting  him 
from  the  object  to  be  created.  While  the 
child  craftsman  comes  to  his  task  free  from 
prejudice  and  eager  to  employ  his  restless 
activities,  the  older  amateur  has  ideas  more 
or  less  faulty,  according  as  he  has  pro- 
duced many  or  few  objects,  after  the 
models  usually  proposed  for  inexpen- 
sive or  medium  pieces  of  cabinet-mak- 
ing. Thus,  by  following  unworthy 
principles  of  construction 
and  decoration,  he  has  ac- 
quired a  taste  for  false  line 
and  misplaced  ornament.  The 
child,  on  the  contrary,  in 
learning  to  execute  these  al- 
most primitive  chairs  and 
tables,  receives  the  I'udiments 
of  one  of  the  most  useful  of 
crafts,  just  as  in  other  de- 
partments of  his  school,  he  is 
taught  the  first  principles  of 
lantruaece  and  of  the  science  of 
numbers.  Or,  to  draw  a  par- 
allel from  a  yet  earlier  period 
of  his  life,  he  niav  be  said   to 


514 


MANUAL   TRAINING 


U 


SIDE. 


U 


© 


u 


ETHD 


and  cliairs  wliidi  Imve  so  long  met  tlicir  eyes 
in  shops,  in  tlicir  own  liomes,  and  in  pieces 
of  their  own  making.  They  must  revert  to 
essentials,  to  the  bare  nouns  and  verbs  of 
their  craft.  They  did  not  begin  ariglit. 
Consequently  they  must  begin  anew.  They 
nuist  correct  their  errors  of  vision  and  taste, 
before  the}-  can  appreciate  simplicity  and 
the  beauty  wliich  results  from  the  adapta- 
bility of  the  object  to  the  use  for  which  it 
is  designed. 

Assuredly,  then,  the  young 
craftsman  has  the  advan- 
tages upon  his  side,  and 
from  these  rudimentary  les- 
sons in  the  minor  building 
art,  it  is  not  impossible  for 
him  to  proceed  slowly  to  the 
ffreater  art  which  we  name 
architecture ;  since  the  same 


r: 


follow  the  lessons  in  construction  here  of-  principles  are  involved  in  the  lesser  and  in 

fered,  just  as  he  frames  the  first  sentences  the  gi-eater.      A  not  unworthy  prejiaration 

of  his  speech,  wherein  he  uses  only  nouns  for    housebuilding    lies    in    the    process    of 

and  verbs:  the  names  of  people  and  things,  constructing  a  chair  or  table:  in  the  proper 

joined  to  words  expressing  the  actions  or  relative  placing  of  verticals  and  horizontals, 

states  attributed  to  them.     That  is,  in  both  in  a  knowledge  of  the  functions  of  mortise 

cases,  he  confines  himself  to  efforts  which  and  tenon,  and  of  other  structural  features, 

are  purely  structural.      He  begins  aright.  This  is,  beyond  all  doubt,  a  better  begin- 

and,  if  wisely  directed,  will  attain  a  useful  ning  than  the  one  made  by  the  young  man, 

result.  who,  a  number  of  years  older  than  the  boy 
The   older   persons   attempting   to   work 


out  these  problems,  in  a  large  number  of 
cases  might  be  compared  to  those  adults 
who,  although  imperfectly  educated  in  lan- 
guage, have  yet,  through  reading  and  asso- 
ciation, acquired  a  fund  of  expressions  and 
constructions  which  they  habitually  misuse 
and  misfit  together,  with  the  result  of  pro- 
ducing in  their  speech  an  effect  of  distress- 
ing vulgarity.  Such  workmen  nmst  there- 
fore forget  the  perverted  forms  of  the  tables 

51 ; 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


craftsman,  yet  crude  and  inexperienced, 
enters  a  theoretical  scliool,  in  which  he  de- 
votes liiinsclf  to  the  study  of  styles  like  the 
Greek  and  the  Gothic,  attracted  only  by 
their  external  ornamental  effect,  witiiout 
having  the  faintest  appreciation  of  the 
structural  qualities  which  give  them  their 
chief  and  permanent  value.  It  would  seem, 
indeed,  that  the  interest  now  developing 
among  educators — among  those  who  de- 
vote themselves  to  primary  jjublic  instruc-  of  its  class  grew  out  of  the  thought  of  its 
tion — must  shortly  lead  to  good  results  in  creator.  That  is,  the  constructive  process 
the  teaching  of  the  higher  branches  of  the  must  be  logical.  Every  element  admitted 
fine  and  the  inilustrial  arts.  It  would  seem  niust  be  useful,  or  rather  indispensable  to 
that  the  instructor  must  begin  anew,  in  the  whole.  Furthermore,  the  builder  must 
order  to  begin  aright.  Especially  is  this  be  clearly  taught,  and  then  discover  by 
true  in  the  building  art,  whether  it  be  the  actual  practice,  wherein  lies  that  special 
major  or  the  minor,  whether  it  involve  the  quality  of  usefulness.  He  must  learn  to 
building  of  a  house,  or  that  of  the  chair  or  acknowledge  the  limitations,  as  well  as  the 
table  which  shall  add  to  the  habitable  qual  peculiar  value  of  the  medium  in  which  he 
ities  of  the  dwelling.  Each  structure  must  works,  and  never  to  transfer  a  method  of 
be  evolved  from  the  mind  of  the  builder  in  treatment  applicable  to  one  substance  to 
pi-ecisely  the  same  way  that  the  first  object      another  quite  foreign  to  its  nature.      This 

requirement  will  become  plain  to  the  least 
critical  person  wlio  will  select  for  examina- 
tion   two   mediums   of   work    from    among 
those  which  are  most  frequently  used  in  the 
industrial  arts:  for  example,  wood  and  iron. 
It  is  evident  that  one  must  be  cut  and  the 
other     molded.     As     a     consequence,     the 
craftsman    must    not    give    to    his    object 
wrought  in  wood  the  appearance  of  having 
been   molded ;    nor   must   his   work   in   iron 
follow    lines    peculiar    to    the 
wood-treatment,  which  should 
always  suggest  the  use  of  the 
knife. 

The  principle  of  craftsman- 
ship— inexorable  as  one  of  the 
laws  of  jMoses — that  wood 
should   always    appear   to    be 


51 G 


MANUAL   TRAIXIXG 


cut.  is  viciously  trans- 
gressed by  tlic  design- 
ers of  the  cheaper  and 
the  medium  grades  of 
tlie  furniture  common- 
ly   sold    in    the    shops. 
An^-  one  can  recall  the 
balustrade-like     effects 
disgracing    the    backs 
and  arms  of  the  rock- 
ing chairs  which  figure 
in  the  vulgar  capacity 
of  "leaders"  on   "bar- 
gain days,"  in  our  de- 
partment stores;  while 
the  visitor  to  some  pretentiously  appoint- 
ed flat  may  remember  with  a  renewal  of 
old  pain,  the  moment  when,  in  the  twi- 
light of  a  middle  room,  he  confronted,  to 
the  worsting  of  his  own  bones,  an  elabor- 
ately molded  mahogany  griffin,  snarling 
at  him  from  the  arm  of  a  so-called  "Mor- 
ris  chair."     But   may   the   soul    of   the 
supreme  craftsman  forgive  the  sacrilege 
of  the  name ! 

It  may  be  said  finally  tliat  the  laws  of 
Nature  must  be  observed  as  closely  in 
craftsmanship  as  in  life.  Material 
created  by  Natui'c  will  not  suffer  itself  to 
be  misunderstood,  and  the  workman  who 
does  such  evil  will  be  punished  in  the  off- 
spring of  his  hands.  Nothing  that  he 
creates  will  have  lasting  value.  Therefore, 
the  children  who  shall  be  taught  to  construct 
the  plain  things  which  arc  here  shown  in 


%./' 


i~' 


illustration,  should,  first  of  all,  receive  from 
their  instructors  a  lesson,  short,  simple  and 
strong,  upon  the  use  and  the  abuse  of  mate- 
rials. 


517 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


CHIPS     FROM     THE     CRAFTSMAN 
WORKSHOP 

THE  CRAFTSMAN,  closed  in  his 
sliop  I)y  tlie  rigors  of  an  American 
winter,  can  no  longer  work  and  sing 
at  his  door,  in  tlie  sunshine,  after 
the  manner  of  liis  predecessors  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  whom  he  strives  in  all  things  to  imi- 
tate :  in  enthusiasm  for  his  work,  in  content- 
ment with  his  lot,  in  gaining  pleasure  from 
the  small  things  of  life. 

Thus  removed  temporarily  from  the  view 
and  the  sounds  of  the  outside  world,  de- 
prived of  the  sight  of  growth  which  in  itself 
affords  companionship,  the  usually  patient 
worker  feels  himself  grow  irritable  and  sad. 
That  which  is  inappropriate  and  discordant 
grates  upon  his  sensibilities  and  causes  him 
to  voice  opinions  which,  in  a  more  normal 
and  happier  mood,  he  could  easily  repress. 
Eatterly,  the  current  of  his  thought  has 
been  greatly  disturbed  by  the  information 
that  business  enterprise  is  about  to  bring  the 
Protestant  Parisian  pastor,  Cliarles  Wag- 
ner, before  American  audiences  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  a  lecturer. 

The  Craftsman  feels  such  action  to  he 
unreasonalile,  luifittine:  and  almost  sacriles:- 
ions;  for  tlie  author  of  "The  Simple  Life," 
when  taken  away  from  his  surroundings, 
will  be  like  a  great  oak  which,  sheltering 
and  life-giving  in  its  original  place  of 
growth,  withers  and  dies,  if  transplanted  in 
its  maturity.  I\I.  Wagner  belongs  to  Paris, 
or  rather  to  a  particular  quarter  of  Paris 
from  which  neither  curiosity  nor  commer- 
cialism should  be  permitted  to  allure  him. 
This  region,  far  removed  from  the  Cliamps 
Elysees  and  the  Opera,  beai-s  no  trace  of  the 
luxury  of  the  capital  of  art  and  pleasure. 
518 


It  is  near  the  site  of  the  Bastille,  and  is 
inhabited  largely  by  workingmen.  In  sum- 
mer, the  sun  blazes  on  the  asphalt,  while 
reverberated  light  from  the  white-washed 
fronts  of  monotonous  rows  of  houses  adds 
to  the  general  sense  of  discomfort 'pervad- 
ing the  place.  The  lovely  gardens  of  the 
Luxembourg  and  the  Tuileries  are  distant, 
and  life  seems  hard  and  sordid,  even  to  the 
passing  visitor. 

The  oasis  of  this  populous  desert  lies  in 
the  home  of  Wagner,  and  it  were  a  sin  to 
disturb  the  mind  of  the  great  teacher  to 
whom  the  fatigued  and  tlie  dispirited  of  the 
city  come  to  be  refreshed.  That  he  is  ab- 
solutely sincere  in  his  utterances,  that  he  is 
witliout  thought  of  self,  or  desire  for  repu- 
tation, can  be  learned  from  the  inhabitants 
of  the  quarter.  For  it  is  impossible  to 
deceive  the  poor  and  the  humble.  At  in- 
quiries made  for  the  house  of  the  Protestant 
pastor,  the  artisans  remove  their  caps,  leave 
their  work  and  guide  tlie  visitor  to  the  little 
lodge  of  a  concierge  who  seems  herself  to 
lead  the  "simple  life,"  in  all  its  spirit  of 
good  will  and  cheerfulness.  Tiie  Crafts- 
man will  not  soon  forget  the  words  which 
he  interchanged  with  her,  her  pleasant, 
homely  face,  and  her  miniature  room  in 
which  stood  a  proportionate  stove  heating 
a  coffee-pot  scarcely  smaller  than  itself,  and 
a  woman  sat  making  a  gown  ;  while  neatness 
and  brightness  everywhere  prevailed. 

The  people  of  the  quarter,  daily  siglits 
such  as  the  one  just  described,  tlie  hopeless 
aspect  of  the  Boulevard  Beaumarchais  and 
its  tributary  streets :  such  are  influences  to 
quicken  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  pastor 
and  to  make  them  yield  their  most  perfect 
fruit.  M.  Wagner  should  be  left  to  live, 
labor  and  die  among  the  body  of  working 


CHIPS 


people  to  whom  he  came  with  that  fitness 
and  adaptability  which  are  evidenced  in 
rare  instances  in  f'riondsliip  and  conjugal 
unions.  Considered  apart  from  them,  his 
work  loses  its  purpose,  and  his  utterances 
their  point. 

Wherein  can  he  minister  to  the  needs  or 
the  pleasure  of  an  American  audience,  ex- 
cept to  gratify  that  chiklisli  desire  to  see 
the  famous,  the  abnormal  and  tlie  wicked 
which  the  lower  grades  of  journalism  flatter, 
with  the  design  and — it  is  regrettable  to 
say — with  the  result  of  beconnng  rich  and 
powerful.' 

M.  Wagner  is  no  figure  to  be  seen  beneath 
the  brilliant  electric  lights  of  a  great  assem- 
bly hall.  The  only  appeal  to  humanity 
which  it  is  possible  for  him  to  make,  is  great 
and  fervent  enough  to  lose  nothing  in  trans- 
mission across  the  Atlantic.  His  books  are 
among  those  which  demand  to  be  read  by 
the  candlelight  of  the  closet  and  to  be  stud- 
ied in  peace  and  solitude.  He  is  a  modern 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  cured  from  all  asper- 
ity and  asceticism.  But,  like  his  proto- 
t3'pe,  he  has  wedded  Povertj',  and  he  must 
not  be  made  weary  or  ashamed  of  his  bride. 
His  place  is  wherever  the  thonis  grow  thick- 
est along  the  paths  of  human  life,  and  to 
interrupt  the  labors  of  this  Brother  of  the 
Poor  is  to  cause  him  to  conmiit  a  threefold 
error :  to  wrong  liis  own  people,  the  world  at 
large,  and,  above  all,  himself. 

His  great  force  lies  partly  in  his  heredity 
and  proper  education,  partly  in  the  strength 
which  he  derives  from  the  sympathy  of  liis 
people,  who  awaken  and  keep  active  all  that 
ia  best  within  him.  He  unites  in  himself 
certain  superior  mental  qualities  of  both 
PVencliman  and  German,  possessing  the 
clear  logical  thought  of  the  one  and  the  deep 


feeling  of  the  other.  He  lias  that  childlike 
faitli  in  God  and  humanity  which  has,  sev- 
eral times,  been  pictured  by  great  novelists 
in  the  portraits  of  French  priests.  But  the 
evidences  of  these  qualities  are  so  purely 
national,  so  exquisitely  fine,  so  evanescent, 
tliat  tlicy  must  be  made  in  their  natural  sur- 
roundings. They  can  not  continue  to  re- 
veal themselves  in  a  foreign  atmospliere,  any 
more  than  a  flower  can  preserve  its  original 
beauty,  a  fruit  its  savor,  or  a  rare  vintage 
its  bouquet,  when  carried  across  the  sea. 
These  perfections  arc  recognized  by  M. 
Wagners  people  who,  in  return,  {)rovide,  as 
it  were,  the  soil  proper  for  tlieir  mainte- 
nance. But  once  the  connection  l)e  broken, 
it  can  not  be  renewed  without  loss  of  tiiose 
vital,  slender  and  tenacious  roots  which 
reach  out  from  the  great  personality  far 
and  deep  into  the  very  substance  and  life  of 
his  people.  M.  Wagner  is  now  the  honest, 
sincere  exponent  of  tlie  "Simple  Life;"  but 
when  he  shall  have  returned  from  tlic  Amer- 
ican platform,  will  he  not  appear  to  his  fol- 
lowers somewhat  in  the  light  of  a  Savonarola 
after  the  "ordeal  by  fire?"  History  shows 
that  the  Florentines,  despairing  of  the 
Kingdom  of  Ciirist,  returned  voluntarily 
under  the  rule  of  tlie  Medici.  And  so  may 
not  the  group  of  modern  Parisian  workmen, 
who  have  been  uplifted  by  the  work  and  in- 
fluence of  the  Protestant  pastor,  when  tliey 
shall  fail  of  a  leader  proof  against  mate- 
rialism, relapse  into  tiie  infidelity  and  cyni- 
cism which  are  bred  of  a  liard  and  hopeless 
existence.'' 

At  the  end  of  these  reflections,  the  Crafts- 
man instinctively  souglit  comfort.  Uncon- 
sciously he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  grasp 
tlie   small    volumes   of   Wagner,   which   lie 

olO 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 

keeps  Jaily  upon  his  bench,  side  by  side  with     the  error,  but  this  is  now  done  more  in  the 
the  implements  of  his  trade.  cause  of  accuracy  that  from  need  or  justice. 


In  tlie  death  of  Mr.  Harvey  ElHs,  which 
occurred  on  Jaiuiary  2,  The  Craftsman 
lost  a  valued  contributor  to  its  department 
of  architecture.  Mr.  Ellis  was  a  man  of 
unusual  gifts;  possessing  an  accurate  and 
exquisite  sense  of  color,  a  great  facility  in 
design  and  a  sound  judgment  of  effect. 
These  equalities  were  evidenced  in  liis  slight- 
est sketches,  causing  them  to  be  kept  as 
treasure?  by  those  fortunate  enough  to 
acquire  them. 

As  a  teacher,  Mr.  Ellis  was  very  success- 
ful, while  many  of  his  fellow  students, 
among  whom  are  several  eminent  painters 
of  the  country,  have  acknowledged  their 
debt  to  him  lying  in  the  counsels  and  criti- 
cisms wliich  he  gave  them. 

As  an  architect,  Mr.  Ellis  showed  style 
and  distinction ;  his  ability  having  received 
public  recognition  through  the  award  of 
the  first  prize  in  the  design  competition  for 
the  tomb  of  General  Grant. 

I\Ir.  Ellis  was,  further,  a  connoisseur  of 
Japanese  art,  the  principles  of  which  he 
assimilated  and  practised.  Altogether,  he 
is  to  be  regretted  as  one  who  jjosscssed  the 
sacred  fire  of  genius. 

The  January  number  of  The  Craftsman 
contained  a  tribute  to  ]\Ir.  John  Dewitt 
Warner,  in  an  editorial  under  the  caption 
of  Urbi  et  Orbi.  Reference  was  then  made 
to  Mr.  Warner's  great  activity  as  a  leader 
in  urban  improvement,  and  his  profession 
was  given  as  that  of  an  architect.  In  view 
of  his  wide  influence  and  reputation  as  a 
lawyer,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  correct 
520 


BOOK  REVIEWS 

THE  Peril  and  the  Pkeservation 
OF  THE  Home,  by  Jacob  A.  Riis. 
This  is  a  series  of  four  lectures  de- 
livered before  the  students  of  the  Philadel- 
phia Divinity  school  during  the  year  1903. 
The  lectureship  was  founded  by  Bishop 
Bull  of  Spokane,  in  order  that  the  students 
of  his  alma  mater  might  be  taught  to  apply 
Christian  principles  to  the  social,  industrial 
and  economic  problems  of  the  times. 

Mr.  Riis's  lectures  deal  with  the  evils  of 
the  city  slum ;  liis  illustrations  being  drawn 
from  those  conditions  of  family  life  which 
have  given  New  York  the  name  of  the  home- 
less city.  There  is  no  need  to  say  that  a 
current  of  eloquence  traverses  the  book,  so 
forceful  that  it  holds  the  reader  with  a 
power  equal  to  that  of  plot  and  dialogue; 
for  the  whole  constitutes  one  of  the  strong- 
est,  most  practical  pleas  for  the  making  and 
the  preservation  of  the  citizen  that  have  ever 
been  pronounced  in  our  English  tongue.  Mr. 
Riis  proceeds  with  a  fearlessness  worth}'  of 
his  friend.  President  Roosevelt,  when,  in  the 
precincts  of  an  Episcopalian  school,  he  de- 
nounces the  Trinity  Church  Corporation,  as 
a  landlord ;  asserting  that  this  body,  the 
strongest  and  wealthiest  of  its  kind  in  the 
country,  almost  succeeded  in  destroying, 
for  the  sake  of  a  few  hundred  dollars,  the 
whole  structure  of  tenement-house  law  which 
certain  men  of  New  York  had  reared  with 
infinite  toil.  To  quote  Mr.  Riis  directly, 
he  says :  "It  suited  the  purposes  of  this 
Corporation  to  let  the  buildings  be  bad,  be- 


BOOK   KK\  IKWS 


cause  they  were  down-town,  where  the  hind 
was  rapidly  becoming  vahiable  for  ware- 
liouse  purposes,  antl  the  tenements  were  all 
to  be  torn  down  by  and  by.  And  so  it  was 
that  it  achieved  the  reputation  of  being  the 
worst  of  landlords,  liardly  a  name  to  attract 
the  people  to  its  pews.  We  had  reached  a 
point  in  our  fight  wliere  we  had  made  good 
the  claim  of  the  tenant  to  at  least  a  full 
supply  of  water  in  his  house,  though  liglit 
and  air  were  yet  denied  him  by  the  builder, 
wlien  tliat  church  corporation  chose  to  con- 
test the  law  ordering  it  to  supply  water  in 
its  houses,  and  won,  for  the  time  being,  on 
the  plea  that  the  law  was  arbitrary  and  auto- 
cratic .  .  .  We  trembled  on  the  edge  of  a 
general  collapse  of  all  our  remedial  laws, 
until  the  court  of  last  resort  decided  that 
any  such  claim  was  contrary  to  pul)lic  policy 
and  therefore  inadmissible." 

In  his  discussion  of  the  tenement  evils  and 
the  remedies  for  their  eradication,  l\Ir.  Riis 
approaches  the  hnes  of  thouglit  at  present 
followed  by  foreign  students  of  sociology ; 
differing  from  these  latter  in  that  he  is  less 
intellectual  and  more  fervent  than  they, 
although  it  is  just  to  say  that  he  is  no  more 
earnest  than  the  French  and  Belgians  who 
champion  the  claims  of  every  man  to  space, 
sunlight,  pleasure  and  education. 

The  four  lectures  here  incorporated  into 
book-form,  have  titles  which,  if  considered 
as  applied  to  the  consideration  of  means  for 
housing  the  poor,  are  easily  understood. 
The  two  named  respectively  "Our  Plight  in 
the  Present,"  and  "Our  Grip  on  the  Mor- 
row," contain  facts  which  should  be  broad- 
cast throughout  the  country :  such,  for  ex- 
ample, as  the  report  of  three  hundred  tliou- 
sand  rooms  without  windows  existing  in 
New  York,  and  the  returns  of  the  city  cen- 


sus, seven  years  since,  which  showed  that 
fifty  thousand  children  were  left  without 
]>riniary  education,  through  lack  of  room 
in  the  New  York  schools. 

It  remains  to  comment  upon  the  strong, 
direct  English  of  the  book,  which,  as  is 
natural,  shows  botli  the  best  quality  and  the 
worst  defect  of  the  journalistic  style:  that 
is,  clearness  of  construction  and  a  too  free 
use  of  colloquialisms.  There  is  also  a  sin- 
gle passage  to  be  regretted,  which  is  attrib- 
utable to  race-prejudice.  In  setting  forth 
the  home  as  the  one  source  of  national  life, 
Mr.  Riis  writes:  "In  France,  many  years 
ago,  a  voice  was  raised  in  warning  :  'Kill  the 
home  and  you  destroy  family,  manhood, 
patriotism.'  The  warning  was  vain  and 
the  home-loving  Germans  won  easily  over 
the  people  in  whose  language  there  is  not 
even  a  word  to  describe  what  we  express  in 
the  word  'home.'  " 

Here  Mr.  Riis  is  manifestly  unjust;  for 
if  an  ambitious,  unscrupulous  dynasty 
swept  the  illy-prepared  French  people  into 
temporary  disaster,  the  same  nation  by  its 
tiirift,  its  genius  for  affairs,  and  its  intel- 
lectual capacit}",  has  within  three  decades, 
again  attained  a  distinguished  place  among 
the  great  powers.  Again,  if  there  does  not 
exist  the  equivalent  of  our  English  hovie  in 
the  French  language,  tiiat  much  maligned, 
though  admirable  tongue,  possesses  an 
equally  expressive  term  in  the  word  foyer 
(hearth),  the  source  of  which  Mr.  Riis  uses 
with  praise,  some  two  pages  earlier,  when  he 
writes:  "The  Romans,  whose  heirs  we  are 
in  most  matters  pertaining  to  the  larger 
community  life,  and  whose  law  our  courts 
are  expounding  yet,  set  their  altars  and 
their  fircs'uhs  together — pro  aris  et  focis." 

If  the  term  be  worthy  of  remark  in  one 


691 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


language,  what  should  prevent  its  recogni- 
tion in  a  derivative?  Truly,  by  passage 
tln-ough  the  mouths  of  the  men  of  Gaul 
virtue  has  not  yet  gone  out  of  it.  [Phila- 
delphia, George  W.  Jacobs  and  Company. 
Size  7i/ox5;  illustrated;  pages  190.  Price 
$1.00  net.] 

The  Home:  Its  Work  and  Influence. 
By  Charlotte  Perkins  Gilman.  The  name 
of  this  author  is  a  guarantee  of  logical  rea- 
soning, sound  economical  principles  and 
progressive  tliouglit.  The  reader  who 
carefully  follows  her  writings,  is  repaid  by 
a  most  pleasurable  sensation.  He  feels 
himself  in  contact,  not  only  with  a  trained 
intellect,  but  with  a  person  of  acute  obser- 
vation and  of  a  very  unusual  power  and 
clarity  of  expression. 

Every  thought  and  sentence  in  Mrs. 
Gilman's  latest  book  rings  true.  She  de- 
mands no  social  change  at  variance  with 
natural  laws.  She  asks  simjjly  that  do- 
mestic myths  and  fetishes  be  swept  away, 
to  be  replaced  by  methods  of  life  wliich 
shall  be  reasonable  and  scientific.  Her  ar- 
gument, based  upon  biology  and  ethnol- 
ogy, should  be  studied  by  all  who  acknowl- 
edge the  home  as  the  foundation  of  the 
State.  [New  York,  IMcClure,  Phillips  & 
Comjjan}'.  Size  5s.l\'j;  pages  317.  Price 
$1.50.] 

The  Mejioirs  of  ]\Iadame  Vigee  Le- 
BKUN,  translated  by  Lionel  Strachey,  form 
a  book,  very  attractive  as  a  specimen  of 
modern  tyiiography.  and.  also,  as  a  siu'- 
vival  of  a  kind  of  writino-  dear  to  the  men 


and  women  of  two  or  three  generations  ago. 
The  translation  has  happily  preserved 
the  i-unning,  formless  stylo  of  the  original, 
so  that  the  narrative  "reads  itself ;"  becom- 
ing at  times  quite  absorliing,  since  it  in- 
volves disinterested  and,  therefore,  credible 
descriptions  of  the  French  and  other  royal 
courts,  of  continental  society  and  cities  of 
the  eighteenth  and  tlie  early  nineteenth 
century.  [New  York,  Doubleday,  Page 
&  Company.  Size  6x9;  ilkistrated  pro- 
fusely; pages  214.     Price  $2.75.] 

The  Diversions  of  a  Book  Lovek,  by 
Adrian  R.  Joline,  are  evidently  tlie  outcome 
of  an  elegant  leisure,  grown  very  rare  in 
our  own  times,  when  men,  of  large  wealth 
even,  devote  themselves  to  politics,  litera- 
ture, art,  athletics,  or  some  other  great  in- 
terests, whicli  demand  constant  activity. 
Notable  examjilcs  of  the  new  type  of  aris- 
tocrat present  themselves  at  the  very  men- 
tion of  the  word,  while  the  old  type  lost  its 
best  representative  in  the  person  of  Samuel 
Ward :  tlie  perfect  epicure  who  never  dined 
well,  if  he  were  without  his  favorite  copy  of 
Horace  whicli  he  read  between  the  courses. 

In  his  preface,  Mr.  Joline  writes  that,  in 
accordance  with  the  views  of  an  old  worthy, 
he  has  assumed  diversions  to  be  "those 
things  which  turn  or  draw  the  mind  from 
care,  business,  or  study,  and  thus  rest  and 
amuse."  In  his  text  he  has  fulfilled  his 
initial  purpose,  and  what  more  can  we  ask 
of  an  author  than  to  be  faithful  to  his  plan? 
[New  York,  Harper  &  Brothers.  Size 
8%x534;  pages  310.     Price  $3.00  net.] 


522 


BOOK  RE^  IKW  S 


MK:\[0RARLE     IX    THE     JANUARY 
MAGAZINES 

A  MASTERPIECE  of  art-criticism  is 
contained  in  tlie  article  upon  Frank 
BrangwA'n  by  M.  H.  Spiclmann,  in 
the  January  issue  of  Scribner's.  Definite 
facts,  excellent  technical  points  and  sound 
judgments  are  here  offered  to  the  general 
reader  who,  in  writings  upon  art  topics,  is 
too  often  left  to  feed  upon  the  dry  busts  of 
studio  phrases.  Short,  comprehensive 
monographs  like  Mr.  Spielmann's,  with 
illustrations  such  as  accompany  his  text, 
will  do  more  to  form  a  critical  public  than 
the  scores  and  hundreds  of  "art-books" 
which  serve  and  re-serve  a  poverty  of  facts 
with  the  persistency  of  a  French  cook  who 
extends  a  Sunday  dinner  throughout  the 
week:  adding  a  clove  to-day,  choosing  a 
bouquet  of  herbs  for  to-morrow,  and  an 
onion  for  the  day  next  following.  Toward 
the  end  of  the  criticism,  the  writer  excuses 
himself  for  having  presumed,  perhaps,  upon 
the  patience  of  the  reader  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  technical  details.  But  the  apology 
is  unnecessary.  If  only  articles  of  tliis 
kind  and  rank  could  become  more  frequent, 
they  might  perhaps  act  as  a  barrier  against 
the  flood  of  fiction  which  is  fast  making 
chaos  in  the  brains  of  many  intelligent  men 
and  women. 

The  last  issue  of  The  Century  contains 
an  article  which  has  doubtless  attracted 
readers  from  all  parts  of  the  country. 
This  is  the  description  of  "Fenway  Court," 
the  palace  and  museum  recently  built  by 
Mrs.  John  L.  Gardner,  upon  the  marshlands 
of  the  Back  Bay,  Boston.  The  illustra- 
tions show  the  refined  sense  of  fitness  which 


conceived  and  brought  to  perfection  a 
structure  unique  in  the  world.  They  will 
serve  moreover  to  heighten  the  feverish  de- 
sire of  the  many  who  iielieve  themselves  to 
be  unjustly  denied  entrance  to  this  Tadmor 
of  the  Desert.  Jesting  aside,  it  is  pitiable 
to  deprive  the  public  of  the  means  of  educa- 
tion residing  in  these  beautiful  objects, 
beautifully  placed.  But  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  Boston,  with  its  strong  municipal  jiride 
and  its  fostering  care  for  its  citizens,  will 
ultimately  acquire  Fenway  Court,  as  the 
city  of  Antwerp  has  acquired  the  Musee 
Plantin,  and  open  it  freely  to  visitors,  upon 
the  payment  of  a  small  fee  necessarv  to  the 
proper  maintenance  of  the  place.  It  may 
seem  ungrateful  to  criticise  a  description 
which,  on  the  whole,  is  creditable  and  most 
instructive,  and  yet  it  is  true  that  'Mr. 
Baxter's  article  would  have  gained  much, 
had  it  not  been  written  in  a  so  evident  spirit 
of  adulation  for  the  founder  of  the  Fenway 
palace. 

Under  the  head  of  the  "Civic  Renas- 
cence," the  Chautauquan  is  printing  a 
series  of  papers  valuable  to  the  general 
reader,  who  must  now  inform  himself  upon 
all  that  concerns  the  national  impulse 
toward  municipal  improvement,  or  other- 
wise remain  hopelessly  in  the  rear  of  prog- 
ress. The  paper  for  January,  by  Profes- 
sor Zueblin  of  the  University  of  Chicago, 
deals  with  Metropolitan  Boston.  It  is 
written  in  a  simple,  direct  style,  from  a 
point  of  view  made  tenable  by  the  knowl- 
edge of  economics  and  sociology  ])osscssed 
by  the  author.  It  is  illustrated  judicious- 
ly with  views  chosen,  not  for  pictorial  effect, 
but  for  the  architectural  or  mechanical  prin- 
ciples of  which  they  are  the  exponents.     At 

523 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


tlio  same  time,  tlicy  arc  picturesque  .and 
decorative.  They  will  instruct  the  visitor 
to  Boston,  by  showing  him  the  real  signifi- 
cance of  such  features  as  the  "Park  En- 
trance to  the  Subway,"  the  "Charles  Em- 
bankment," and  the  "Agassiz  Bridge  on 
the  Bay  Fens,"  which  last  illustrates  the 
redemption  of  a  tidal  marsh  and  its  change 
into  a  blooming  expanse  of  upland  scenery. 

The  Club  Woman,  under  the  editorship 
of  Mrs.  Dore  Lyon  of  New  York,  is  a  use- 
ful and  influential  organ  of  a  movement 
which  has  already  wrought  much  good  in 
our  country,  and  whose  promises  are  even 
greater  than  its  accomplishments.  The 
magazine  bears  evidence  of  thorough  or- 
ganization, and  of  the  guidance  of  a  firm 
and  skilful  hand.  Its  table  of  contents  for 
January  contains  two  articles  by  residents 
of  Syracuse;  one  by  IMiss  Grace  Totter,  an 
intelligent  lover  of  horses ;  the  second,  a 
fairy  tale  of  more  than  usual  merit  by  IMrs. 
Flora  Wells. 

ANNOUNCEMENT  OF  THE   HO:\IE- 
BUILDERS  CLUB 

IN  response  to  many  letters  of  inquiry 
regarding  the  Homebuilders'  Club. 
The  Craftsman  gives  the  subjoined 
outline  of  the  purpose  of  this  organi- 
zation : 

Beginning  with  the  January  number  and 
continuing  throughout  the  year  19()J<,  The 
Craftsman  INIagazine  will  publish  designs 
and  descriptions  of  detached  residences,  the 
cost  of  which  will  vary  from  two  to  fifteen 
thousand  dollars:  one  complete  house  to  be 
presented  in  each  issue. 

Any  one  interested  in  the  building  of  a 
home  is  invited  to  join  the  club. 

624 


Any  one  who  shall  send  three  dollars,  for 
one  year's  subscription  to  The  Craftsman 
Magazine,  stating  that  he  desires  enroll- 
ment in  the  Club,  will  be  added  to  its 
membership.  He  can  then  secure,  without 
further  cost,  complete,  detailed  plans  and 
specifications  of  any  one  house  included  in 
The  Craftsman  Series  for  190-1. 

Present  subscribers  may  obtain  the  same 
terms  by  sending  three  dollars  for  one 
year's  extension  to  their  subscription. 

The  prospective  homcbuilder  need  not 
wait  until  the  last  issue  of  the  year  1904, 
before  making  his  request  for  the  plans 
and  specifications  which  he  shall  choose. 
These  can  be  obtained  by  him  within  two 
mouths  after  the  date  of  the  issue  publish- 
inLC  the  house  to  which  they  bclono-. 

The  "complete  plans  and  specifications" 
here  described,  are  intended  to  supplement 
the  articles  which  will  be  published  in  The 
Craftsman.  They  will  be  so  specific  and 
detailed  that  they  may  be  executed  easily 
by  any  architect  or  builder. 

One  set  of  plans  only  will  be  sent  upon 
request  to  each  member :  the  various  draw- 
ings explaining  evei-y  part  of  the  struct- 
ural and  mechanical  work,  including  treat- 
ment of  heating,  lighting  and  plumbing 
svstems,  to  become  the  property  of  the  Club 
IMembcr,  and  not  to  be  returned  to  The 
Craftsman. 

The  architcct\iral  Editors  of  the  jNLaga- 
zine  invite  suggestions  of  personal  pi'cfer- 
ence  from  any  member  of  the  Club  regard- 
ine  the  design  in  which  he  is  interested ; 
such  as  those  relative  to  cost,  locality  and 
site ;  as  by  this  means,  the  home-builder  will 
be  able  to  command  skill,  experience  and 
I^ractical  knowledge  in  conjunction  with 
his  individual  inclinations. 


r'%SJ,> 


■^ 


Aui^llsl.'     l;..,llll.     '■    rilr     lliasU'l'    "t     UluiiMIl    M'ul|.tll|- 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


\' 


M  A  K  (    II      1  ;•  (I  \ 


X  () .    t > 


AUGUSTK   l{()l)l\.      WKll'IKN   FOR 
THK  CRAl-TSM AN  n\  .IF. AN  S( HOP 
FKH    AND  (  l.AI   1)E  ANET;  TRANS 
LATEl)     FROM     'I'lIF     Fin'NCn     1?Y 
IRENE   SAR(;EN'r. 

Till    M  \N  \\i)  HIS  w(ii;k 

A  MAN  «li()  ;ipj)c,-ir-!  to  l)c  ill  tin- 
lulliii^^  of  liis  powers,  alHioufi'li 
lir  lia>  j)a>>i(l  liis  sixtieth  ve;ir. 
roliiist  as  an  oak.  of  middle  lii'i<>'lit. 
l)i'o.i(l->lloilldel'ed,  stout.  Iiiit  .itliletie:  ;i 
sti'oiiji'  neck,  a  face  li.ilf  coMi'ed  1)V  a  loiiti' 
lilonde  heard.  throi|i>li  wliicli  aye  lias  scat- 
tered a  few  o-rains  of  salt,  a  proinineiil 
nose,  characteristic  and  well  modeled,  eves 
clear  and  small,  set  beneath  a  powerful 
ardi  of  tlic  eyebrows,  .-i  liio-h  forehead 
ii])on  which  reflection  has  plouf^'liod  deep 
fiirroHs:  >uch  physic.illy  is  .Vufjiiste  Rodin 
to-day. 

All  his  life  lie  has  stni<rt^'led.  and  he  can 
not  yet  relax  his  efforts.  He  has  seen  rise 
against  him  ;dl  tliox-  forces  of  official  and 
or;|^ani/cd  art  which  are  so  powerful  in 
France:  the  School  of  P'ine  Arts,  the  In.sti- 
tute.  the  Salons.  He  lias  experienced  the 
long  and  severe  preliminary  trials  of  the 
man  who  has  a  new  and  powerful  message 
to  deliver.  He  astonishes,  shocks  and  scan- 
dalizes. Further  than  all  this,  from  his  very 
entrance  into  his  profession,  he  has  been 
forced  to  earn  his  daily  bread.  About  each 
work  th.at  he  has  exhibited  jests,  sarcasms 
.iiid    hostile    crie^    have   joined    in    mockiiifr 


elioni-..  Rut  fiii.ilU.  Rodin  li.i^  trii'mphed. 
Not  onh  li.-is  he  given  to  tln'  world  .i  nmv 
pulsation  ex(.-ited  hv  a  hitherto  unknown 
he.-uity.  hut  uc  can  take  from  him  ;!  lesson 
ot  fortitude-  ,111(1  iiiergv  111  learning 
througli  \vli:it  struggles  ;iiiil  uliat  pri- 
\.itioiis  genius  reaches  glorv. 

Rodin  arose  from  the  people:  that  in- 
exli;U!>til)le  reservoir  of  virgin  piiritv  .iiid 
-treiigth.  .-iiul  of  l.-ilcnt  greatness.  He  was 
lioni  III  IStO.  .\l  the  .Museiiiii.  he  followed 
tile  classes  of  R.irve.  the  distinguislu'd  .ilii- 
iiial  sculptor,  who  was,  it  is  said,  a  poor  ui- 
stnictor.  never  reve.-ding  his  pouers  except 
"hell  he  seized  his  h.aiidfiil  of  modeling 
cl.ay. 

.\t  the  .approach  of  lus  tweiit vtourth 
year.  Rodin,  in  order  to  gain  his  livelihood, 
enteretl  the  studio  ot'  f'arrier-Relleuse,  a 
scul])tor  favored  hv  fashiini.  possessed  of 
skill,  hut  devoid  of  originality.  At  this 
period,  the  young  student  produced  his  first 
iiii|)ortant  work:  "The  man  with  the 
broken  nose."  This  was  a  well-concei\  ed 
and  powerful  hiist.  uorthv  of  .antiijiie  .art. 
Sent  to  the  Salon,  it  was  refused,  as  might 
have  been  foreseen,  and  Rodin  continued 
to  work  for  the  popiil.ir  sculptor.  .\fter 
the  w.ir  of  1870,  we  find  him  .it  Rrus- 
sels,  oc(aii)ied  with  other  French  and  Bel- 
gian artists  in  decorating  the  Stock  Ex- 
change. 

.\t  the  age  of  thiit  v-seven,  he,  for  the 
first  time,  exhibited  a  verv  imj)ortant  work 
ill  the  "Man  of  the  bronze  age."  which  he 
sent  to  the  salon  of  IfSTT.     This  was  an  .id 


j.'S 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 

niiralilr  fii;\irc  which  .ii'iistcil  .mil  hrld  jmli-  thi'  i;i'c.'tt   .■irtists  of  the   iiinctrciith   iTiitui'\ 

lie  .■ittt'iihoii.  — Hio^t-    wliOM'    ii:uiK'>    hiivc    an    a>Mirr(l    t'u- 

It  is  thus  Mi'ii  th.-it   Kodiii  had  no  niasti-r,  ("urc,- -  wi  re   not    inirtnrcd   at   the   School   of 

and    that    he    has    folloui'd    no    school.       He  Fine    Al'ts,    wci-r    not    incn[i)crs   of  the    Insti- 

h;is.  so  to  speak,  ci'c.atcd  hiinsrlf.  ,as  all  men  tntc.  Iinl,  on  Ihr  contr.ai'V,  \ioicntlv  opposed 

truly   o-rc.at   h.a\c  done.      It    is  discoiicei't iiio'  oftici.al   doctrines,   .and   worked,   solit.ar\    .uid 

foi-   supertici.-d    niinils   to   ohserxc   the   unini-  independent,  t  hi'ou^hont  theii-  entire  life, 
[lort.iiit   p.art   pl.aved  iii  the  artistic  develop-  In     p.aiiit iii^-.    Kuyene    Del.acroix.    l{oiis- 


nieiil    ol    ,1    eoiiiiti'N     li\     the    liii;hir    schools,  sr.iii,     .Millet.    ( 'orot,     l'ii\is    de    ( 'li,a\  .anncs, 

"Inch  our  epoch  so   ori-jitly   honors  with   its  .niioiii;-    the    i  Must  rioiis    de.ad  :    in    siailpturc, 

confide  iic(    .and   niaiiit.iins  .at   siich   i^re.at   e\-  |{iide,    ('arpi.anx       l.astlw    .\uniiste    Kodiu. 

Jieiisc.       In    I   r.aiice,    where    till'   ( ro\  ei-|iiiieiit  \(  ho,   in  cre.atixe  t'orce.   in   richness  of  iiivell- 

li.as  done  nuieli    tor  the  cause  nf  .art,   win  re  tion,    siirp.asses    thc'    onl\     tuci    in.asters    \v  ho 

the   ^chiMils   .and   .ic.adennis   h,a\e   .a    iiiiix  la's.al  preceded     him     in     the     niiietecaith     I'caitiirv. 

repiit.at  ion    .and    .attr.act     students    from    .all  (ieiiius   h.is   little   iieid  of   professors.       It   is 

t'oijiitries,    it    must    still    he    lecoi^ni/ed    tli.at  c.ap.ahle  of  recooni/iu^-  its  ou  n   in  the  past. 


AlcaSTK     liODIN 


And  tluii  for  its  devclopiiioiit.  it  has  i\w 
hanl  xhool  of  life,  tlie  best  one  liiat  exists. 
It  is  throufvli  strii<>'g'le  that  a  distinctive 
pei'^onaht V  estai)iishes  itsi'lf  and  i)ecoiiK'> 
eon>ciou>  of  its  own  powers. 

Kodin    lias   not    escaped   HiTci'   trials   ,uid 
opposition.      When    "The    primitive    man" 
was   exhibited    at    the    Salon    of    l.STT.    this 
work,     wliollv     disobedient     to 
conventional  formulas,  strong' 
HI   truth   and   sniipheit\.   and. 
because      of      tiu-M-      qualities, 
novel    and    revolutionary,    ex- 
cited a  furious  storm  of  criti- 
cism.     A     rumor     arose     th.al 
tile  statue  had  been  cast  after 
nature:  a  cbarg'e  so  luireason- 
able  that   it   is  difficult  to  dis- 
cover its  meanin<i'.      For  it    is 
evident   to   anyoni'.   after   five 
minutes''  reflection,  that  cast- 
ing always  gives  effects,  dull. 
without  accent,  vigor,  or  dis- 
tinction,    and     that,     on     the 
contrary,   tlu'    mission    of   art 
is  to  express,  to  make  evident 
through       exaggeration       the 
strongest     characteristic,     the 
very  nature,  of  a  body  or  a 
limb.      If  a   cast    of   the   nude 
after  a  living  model  be  [jlaced 
beside   a   nude   by   Itodin,   the 
differences  will   thrust  tbemsebcs   u])ori   the 
most  prejudiced  eyes.      Art  is  individuality 
and    will,   neither  of  which    is   a])i)arent    in 
the    works    of    Nature.      Individuality    and 
will  an-  the  caj)ital  «hicli  man.  as  the  crea- 
tor of  art,  brings  to  his  work. 

Rodin  easily  ex<nierate(l  himself  from 
this  unreasonable  accusation.  Careless  of 
criticism,  be  continued  to  work   in  accord 


anee  with  hi-,  own  ideas  and  pleaNUfe.  .and 
it  was  oidy  after  the  foundation  of  the 
National  Society  (S.alon  of  the  Champs  de 
Mars)  that  he  exhibited  annualU.  I'.M'ii 
i\\  the  new  Salon,  where  he  was,  in  a  certain 
■-en--e.  in  his  own  house,  as  president  of  the 
section  of  sculpture,  his  works  were  still 
.angrily    di>eus>ed.      The    artist    h;i\iiiti-    .al- 


Kiiriirc  II.     Ko'iin'^  vtuiUo-nniscniii 

most  attained  the  age  of  sixty  ve.irs,  and 
having  become  famous  throughout  the 
woi-ld,  saw  one  of  his  most  important  works, 
the  statue  of  Halzac,  ex<'ite  such  a  tempest 
of  pu!)lic  nidignatioii,  among  his  cui'ious 
colle.-igues  and  the  re]>resentatives  of  the 
press — who  for  a  fortnight  ceased  all  other 
«ar  of  words  to  concenti'ate  their  attacks 
u))on   Itodin's   IJalzac.-     that    the  eonnnittee 

537 


THK    C  UAl  rS.MAN 

of  tlif  SuciutN  of  .Men  of  I.ittcT-..  wliicli  had  >clf  to   liU   wui.st  ;   uiico\t  riiii;'  and   sliouiuj;- 

ordered  tlic  statin.  rcfuN<-d  to  accept  it.  de-  liis  o\mi  works,  and  coniinentin^'  upon  tlioin 

clariiij;  t  hat  tlic  finnri   could  in  no  wise  pre-  »ilh   the   uiirenuousness  and   enthusiasm  of 

tend  to  represent   Hal/ac.  one    u  ho.    at    that     instaiil.    p<rcei\e-,    tlioir 

Ne\ei-theless.    the    -.cailptoi-    so    criticised,  lieauty  for  the  first  time. 
found.  e\en  at   the  hej^lniiino-  of'  his  cart'cr.  "Isn't   this  fine.'"  he  does  not   liesit.-ite  to 

enthusiastic  .admirers;  e\eii  then,  .art  critics  sav.       And    he    passes    his    h.aiid    oxer    the 

and  iitt'r.arv  men  asserted  lh<'  i;r.ui<leur  .and  inari)li'.    .as    if   caressino-    it.       He   turns    the 

the    sti'tai^th    of    his   t.alent.      The    f.ame   of  fio-ure  upon   the  inodeHni;-  stool,  in  order  to 


Fiirur"'  III      liittTior  (.1   --tiiiiiii  iniisiiiiti 

Ro(Hn    is   est.ahHsJied    to-d.av.      Throughout  (lisj)l,av   it   .at   .another  .antili'  .and    in   .a   more 

tile  world.  Ill'  is  recognized  as  the  master  of  favoralile  hohl. 

modern  seulptiu-e.  Such  .action  dois  not  express  \anit\,  but 

simplv  the  Midi'pindence  of  the  artist   from 

I   li.a\e  often   seiai   Uodm    in   liis  P.arisi.an  the  work  when  once  it   is  tinished.      As  long 

studios,    ill    uhicli,   once   e\i  rv    week,   he   re-  ;is   it  exists  only   in  his  thought,  as   long  as 

ceives.   uith  optai   doors,   those  who  wish  to  it  is  within  him.  it  is  sacred;  then  he  gives 

visit  him.     'I'lie  grace  .and  the  simjiiicitv  of  hirtli  to  it  in  fever  .and  .anguish,  .and  in  the 

liis    uclcoiiie   .are   i|iiite    indescrih.ahle.       Pro-  swe.it  of  his  lirou.      Hut  once  that   it  stands 

\  ided  that  he  discover  in  his  \  isitor  a  spark  in  m.arhle.   it   hecomes  .i  stranger  to  him.  it 

of    lo\e   lor  .artistic  things,  he  d<\()tes  him-  is  .an    iiidepc  ink  lit   being,  animated  with  an 
528 


AlC.rSTK    J{()I)IX 


iiulividiial  life,  wliicli  lie  considers  as  lie  does 
the  persons  hy  whom  he  is  surrounded:  th.-it 
is  to  say.  ohjectiveiv. 

It  is  an  inspiration  to  hear  a  man  such  as 
l{odin  discourse  upon  art.  We  live  our 
narrow  lives  and  walk  like  animals  of  hur 
(Kii,  whose  eyes  are  half-covered  with  blind- 
ers. We  see  beyond  us  onlv  our  ol)jective 
point,  our  own  personal  jioiiit 
of  aim.  And  from  the  infinite 
spec-tacle  of  thinofs  we  isolate 
the  only  objects  which  interest 
lis  or  which  flatter  our  fixed 
idea.  The  artist  teaches  us  to 
fi'aiii  a  wider  and  hifflur  \  iew 
of  thiiifrs.  His  true  function 
is  to  appreciate  and  to  trans- 
late the  beauty  whi<-h  is  all- 
pervading-,  althoun^li  it  is 
often  hiddi'ii  from  our  in- 
experieiK-ed  eyes.  We  knou 
nothini)-  of  the  beauty  of  the 
human  frame.  Modern  life 
is  so  or<>aiiized  that  we  have 
of  this  siipri'ine  beauty  only 
the  vajruest  conception,  the 
most  imperfect  knowledfre. 
We  fix  our  attention  solely 
upon  the  face  and  the  ex})res- 
sioii  of  the  countenance.  ^Ve 
<-an  not  aj)])reciate  a  well 
modeled  le<r.  the  supple  and 
swelling  line  of  the  hips,  the  articulation  of 
an  arm.  We  have  no  acquaintance  with  this 
beauty,  except  such  as  results  throufrh  the 
study  of  works  of  art.  We  are  j)roliibite(l 
from  studying  the  liviiifr  nude.  \evcr- 
theless.  it  is  the  human  body  which  is  the 
fundamental  theme  of  sculpture.  In  pres- 
c-nce  of  this  great  and  flignified  subject,  the 
ideas  of  nioilestv  inculcated  bv  ( 'hri^t ianit \ 


di^aiiiiear.  and  the  ^cul)>t<ir  foJIoH  ^  only 
ideas  of  art.  .\iid  thus  he  li\es  in  .1  world 
which  is  closed  1(1  us.  We  niu-t  not  be 
astonished  or  CDiifuxd  tlierefore.  if  ulieii  he 
--peaks  to  Us  Me  but  half  understaiul  him. 
NO  eoinmon  standard  e\isl>  for  him  ••md  us. 
Hut  if  we  make  effort  to  rise  to  his  le\-el.  we 
eiiruh  ourseKcs  Hitli  new  modes  of  thought 


I'lirun-  IV.      Ho:li(i;it    work 

;uid.  by    that    very   meaii^.   \w  amplify   and 
heighten  our  |)ersonalil  v. 

'i'his  is  why  it  is  good  to  i)e  with  Uodiii, 
to  talk  with  him.  to  attempt  to  reach  his 
[loint  of  \  iew  and  to  -.hare  his  i  nthusiasins. 
We  illustrate  ben'  a  number  of  his  works, 
sufficiently  lai"ge  to  comiiiuiiii'ate  enthusiasm 
to  the  reader  who  shall  have  followed  us, 
when  he  shall  find  himself  in  thi'  |)risence  of 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 

tli.it    Udi-ld  (if  Immii;;-s   into  uliicli    IJodiii   lia-s       -tudio  (if  t  lie  si'iilptor  an' (iriHiii.il  .iiid  !ir;ui- 
hivathcd  the  hrcatli  of  Wi'r.  tifiii. 

Hodin  docN  not   live  in   I'ai'i-.      He  ^i^ll]lly  H''  livi^  alone  at  the  ^nnnnit  (if  a  dccliv- 

\V(ii-k-  there  lacli   aftei-n(i(iii.      In   llie   iimrn-       itv.    five    hundred    (laces    distant     frdiii    the 
ine-    he    stn(hes   and    lUddels   at    his    home    in       hi^lnvav.    whieh    passes    at    the    rear   ot    his 

house.  In  fi-ont  of  his  n-ai'den  the  soil  is 
hi-okeii  .•Mid  cri'inlihiii;-.  This  is  tlie  site  of 
the  old  ([U.-irries  of  Meiidon  uhich  .are  nou 
.aliaiidoned.  I''i-oin  these  einiditions  result 
i-oin|ilele  solitude  .and  the  .ahsenee  ot  houses 
in  the  fore^'i'duiid  of  the  l.indsc,a|ie.  There 
are  none  of  those  uolv  httle  \ill.as  wliieh. 
in  the  suliurhs  of  e\crv  lare(.  citv. 
ai;a.'ressi\el\  ilis|il.iv  li.id  taste  .and  preten- 
sion. HeVOIld  the  W.llls  of  the  i;-.al-dell 
spre.ids  the  .adniii'.iiile  p.aiior.ani.i  of  the 
Seine,  the  ri\ir  of  lie.iiitifiil  serpentine,  in- 
dolent i'iir\es,  surronii(hiie'  the  isl.and  ot 
\  ill.ineourt.  c.aressinj;'  the  nein'hliorini;' 
Meudoii  .and  its  luiiiied  hi-idoe.  uhich  dates 
from  the  time  of  I.ouis  X  I\'.  :  tluai.  upon  the 
heij;lils.  there  .are  the  li.i  I'liionious  masses  ot 
the  i^rovcs  of  .Meudon  .and  of  S.aint  ( 'loiiil. 
which  .are  terniin.ated  ,d  the  hori/on  line  hy 
the  hill  upon  \vlucli  (M-oi'ches.  like  .a  hound 
read\  to  .att.ack.  the  fortress  of  Mont- 
\  alijrieii. 

Such  is  the  landscape  xisilile  from 
RodiiTs  windows.  "NeMr."  he  s.-ud  to  me. 
"does  it  re}ie.at  its  effects.  M.asses  of  litrht 
.111(1  sh.ade  niini;le  there  in  pi'oportioils  in- 
HiiiteU  di\erse.  I  iie\(  r  we.ar\  of  studying" 
it.  Ivach  d.a  V  ^ii\(l  .almost  each  hour,  it 
clothes  itself  with   new    lie.autx  ." 

Kodin  li.as  for  his  dwelliii(j,-  .a  sni.dl  huild- 
inn'  ol  lirick  .and  white  stone,  the  entrance 
of  which  is  wu.U'ded  liy  do^s.  At  the  rig'llt, 
Meudon.  to  which  he  returns  ,at  evenino-,  ,ind  .idvanced  liexdiid  the  residence  portion, 
.after  the  li.ard  l.alior  of  the  .afternoon  ;  se(.'k-  tlieic  is  .an  immense  studio-museum  u  Inch  we 
iiii.;  tliia-e  Ihe  solitude  .and  calm  which  are  lure  illusti'.ate.  This  w.as  formerly  the 
so  dear  1(1  him.     The  snliurli.an  (h^  elluiif  .and       .Miisee   Kodin   eret'ted   in   the  ( 'oiirs-ka-Reine 


Ku'iin-  \'      Si.-iiiir  III   li.Mlins  ir.-iril(ai 


.■.3f 


AlcaSli:     KODIN 


for  tlio  Kxpositioii  of  1!)()().  It  i>  .111  L\-  sfarcciv  lar^'ii'.  r.icli  onr.  I  li.in  .1  nioiik's  cril. 
aiiiplf  of  the  iK'o-classic  style,  witli  hold  pro-  and  monastic  no  ie>s  in  tluir  simplicity  than 
jcctions  and  a  hoavv  cntalilaturc.  Furtiicr-  in  their  size,  with  their  whitewashed  walls, 
more,  tile  details  in  relief  are  accentuated.  a  nid<-  scat  and  a  modeling'  >tool.  Unl  it  is 
the  shadows  are  deep  and  the  hinh  lights  a  detail  to  he  noted  that  upon  the  walls  are 
strong.  The  structure  is  entirely  roofed  fixed  a  few  shelves  of  thick  mirror-glass 
with  glass,  and  is  further  lighted  hy  large  which  support  exipiisite  anti(iue  ornaments. 
Iiavs  on  each  of  the  sides,  except  the  one  fragments  of  iridescent  glass,  and  -mall 
containing  the  entrance,  which  is  a  portico  moikrii  vases  and  ewers  of  lovely  color  and 
in  classic  style,  opening  upon  the  splendid  contour.  These  few  ohjects,  frail  and  ])er- 
scene  which  we  have  earlier  de- 
scribed. 

In  front  of  the  studio  two 
small  gardens,  enclosed  hy 
walls,  extend  as  far  as  the 
abandoned  (juarries.  In  one 
of  them,  crouching  iijion  a 
pedestal,  we  find  a  superb 
Hllddha  from  the  Indo- 
Chinese  tem])lr  of  Knur,  who 
])rojects  his  Oriental  calm 
upon  the  delicately  veiled  at- 
mosphere of  the  region  Of 
I'aris.  When,  last  summer.  I 
visited  Rodin,  geraniums  wen 
blooming  at  the  feet  of  the 
Asiatic  god,  as  an  ort'eiing  of 
the  modern  sculjitor  to  tlu 
foreign  divinity,  whose  strong 
simple  outline  prodiurd  a 
striking  effect  in  this  little 
cultivated  spot  in  the  sul)iiih~  of  a  great  feet,  assume  in  this  hare  and  narrow  room 
modern  city.  an   importance  «hich   it   is  not  easy  to  con- 

Heliind  the  museum,  is  a  studio  in  which      ceixc. 
several     workmen    are    occupied     in     trans-  Kodiii    who,    wearing    a    broad    I'aiiama. 

lating  info  marble  the  works  in  clav  niodelrd       was  conducting  me  through  his  possessions, 
by  the  band  of  the  master.  >^;iid  to  me: 

Finally,  at  the  side  of  the  garden,  there  "There  come  hour-  when   1  c-an  not   work 

is  a  low,  elongated,  mysterious  little  struc-      in  the  large  studio.     It  <oiilains  too  great  a 
ture.      In   the  interior  there  are  two   i-ooms      throng    of    statues.      Their    glance    weighs 


Fi^iirr  \'l.     »iro\l|»  of  thr  Huri,'lifrs  ot  Calais 


.i:(l 


illi:    C  RAITSIMAN 

upon  nil'  and  |int>  nic  under  coiistnunt.  iniotmn  ulncli  sci/cd  me  wlien  I  apiJiMarlicfF 
Tlirn.  I  ciiinf  licrc  to  I'rcoxcr  nn'  composure  ti'i'^t  the  n'rouj)  of  tlie  "lUiry'liL-rs  of  ('alai>." 
in  tln'  calm  ot'  Hii'^c  liHle  t'llls.""  and  then  examined  tlie  small  ^Toujis  wlnCli 
1  lere  lie  >lioued  me  tile  roiiLjIdv  outlined  peopled  tile  o'allerv.  The  effect  ]iroduce<l 
liust  of  an  American  woman  u])oii  wliii'li  he  upon  the  spectator  was  that  of  something- 
was  workine-  at  that  time.  "Almost  inv.a-  iieu.  i^reat,  unexpected,  which  profoundly 
nablv."  he  said,  "tlii're'  is  intellig'eiice  in  the  iiioxcd  him  and  left  him  o-rave  and  silent, 
faces  of  the  «<imen  of  this  nation."  ■"Hut."  fifteen  years  have  passed,  and.  still  to-day. 
lie  added,  casting'  a  long  look  at  the  un-  I  hesitate  in  crossing  tlie  threshold  of 
tiiii-lied  head  which  he  tiinieil  tnuai'd  me,  Kodin's  studio:  so  powerful  is  the  contact 
■"there    IS,    fui'thermore,    kmdnos    of    heart  of  the  master's  thouti'ht. 

o 

evidenced  in  the  I'ouiitenanee  of  this  model.  In    Hk'   work   of  tiiis   sculptor,  the   donii- 

'J'hat  is  what  1  shall  :ittempt  to  express.     It  iiant  eliiiient  is  not  serenity.    He  is  the  type 

is  a  difficult  task."  of  the  modern  genius  wluj  creates  in  tem- 
pest. Other  artists  ha\e  li\ed  far  from  the 
world,  and.   fi-om   the  height  of  their  ivory 

■""     '^'"•'^  '"     l'"'"^-  tower,   have   followed,  solitary   and   i.solated 

Till-'    .irtistic    production   of    l{odin    is  from   men,   the  harmonious  development   of 

almost     completeU'     re])resented     hy  their    fancies.      'J'lie   agonized   cries   of   the 

means  of  cists   in   the  gre.it   studio-  throng  gro\('ling  in  the  depths  below  them 

museum,  \\liieli   is  Hooded  liv  ahund.-int  and  did  not  reach  tlieii'  altitude.     They  did  not 

eqii.'di/ed   light.  see  the  faces  distoi'ted  hv  sorrow,  the  hard 

I'lie  .irtistic   production  of  Rodin  I     IIow  t'ui'rows  which  ]).ission  ploug'hs  upon  pallid 

shall  we  spe.'dx  ot    it  1    ^^'llell  one  enters  the  faces  and   the  eloquent  gaze  of  eye.s   which 

j>resence   of   works   created   hy   genius,  is  it  can  no  longer  w eep.     ]{ut  Rodin  has  seen  .'dl 

not  nalrr.il  to  he  ovcrw  111  lined,  as  one  might  this.       He,    as    an    artist,    has    felt    descend 

i>i'   on    the    tlu'eshdld    (if   .1    t'air\     palace   in  upon    him    the   talons   of   the    world-sorrow. 

which    e\er\  I  lung    should    lie    progressively  Therein,  he  h.'is  aiKaneed  heyond  the  pagan 

more    heaiitiful,    gre.'iter.    richer,    more    in-  point  of  \  iew .  which,  nevi'rtlu'less,  he  holds 

tense.'     In  the  hest  iiiomeiils  of  oiii'  h\es  we  tlirougl loiil   his  work.      He  understands  sin. 

half    perceive  ,1   superior   world.   \M'   wish   to  .-inil  he  shows  the  human  being  stricken  and 

Ciller  il.   we  feel  tli.'it    for  an   instant    we  are  o\erw  helmed,     because     his     sufferings     are 

worthy  to  com|irt'lieiid  things  w  Inch  w  e  h.'ivi.'  Iieighteneil    iiv    the    despairing    memory    of 

iiol     before    understood,    to    p.irlici])ale    in  h.'ippier  things,  of  a  Paradise  lost, 

joys  before  denied   to  us,   tli.-it   we  can   seat  Hut    Rodin   li;is   deliberately   placed  liini- 

onrsehcs  at  l.-ist  .-it  llie  baiii|iiet  of  those  who  self  in   the  midst  of  life.      He  has  also  con- 

ap))roacli  most  eloseU    todixinily.  templated    joy,    pleasure,    the    loveliness   of 

I  havi- long  know  11  the  w  i.rk  of  Rodin.    In  life,   the  glor\    of  the  nude  displayed  in  a 

co-operation  with  Claude  .Moiiel,  .-iboiit  the  huiiinous    .'itiiiosphere.   the    wild    courses   of 

year  IHSl),  he  arranged  .in  e\hibition   in  a  fauns,  the  jilay  of  satyrs,  and  love  in  both 

private  galler\,  and  I  sh.dl  iievei-  forget  the  its  pt'rmitted  and  its  forbidden  aspects. 


II'    \ll      l)c-iail  from  ihi-  triiui.  „{  "ll,,    Hmil- 


h.  1-   ..1    1   :iili 


5:w 


THE    CRAFTSMAX 


'riic    |iicriirr    wlii.-li    he    li;i.s    jj^'iwu    of    litV        |„iiiit   of   \  Iru  .  to  iiml(i--t.iii(l  liis  miirrpt  ion 
ffrtalii    critics    have    cliaracU  ri/cd    as    ival-       of  tlic  uorl.l  al)c)Vit  liim. 

istic.  uisliiii-  In    tliis  tcnii  t,,  al)asc  it  ;  as  if  H,ality    for   him    is   all    in   all.      It    is  the 

it  unv  not  fnini  ivality,  iii.lccd.  the  sad.lcst.       exact   inia^v  of  the  external  w.irld.  the  most 
sometimes  even  the  most  ahj.'ct  ivalitv.  that       conipK'te     and     nnnute     knowledge     "»'     the 

Ntiaictnr<'  of  the  Imman  frame.  ^Vith  this 
structure  Rodin  is  pei'fectly  acciuaiiited, 
not  onU  uheii  it  is  in  re|iose,  l)i;t  also  in  its 
iiifiiiitil\  \aried  movements.  He  under- 
stands the  pl.iv  of  the  supple  muscles  which 
wind  theii-  coursi'  heiieath  the  fleshy  tissue. 
He  is  sensitive  to  tli<'  seci'et  harmonies  re- 
sponsive to  which  they  all  mo\e  at  the 
slii<-htest  suo-nestion  L;l\cn  to  any  one  sys- 
tem or  di\  ision  of  them.  I  le  know  s  also  the 
stiMictur.d  secrets  of  the  concealed  hones 
which  hold  the  frame  upri.n'ht  :  hou  they  are 
joined  to^-ether  and  the  furn-tioii  of  each. 
He  has  studied  th<'  dei;('nerai-y  of  the  hody 
uhich  risults  from  aj;-e  or  from  the  lii'ense 
of  the  p.issioiis,  as  well  as  the  he.auty  with 
which  \(iuth  .md  health  adcuai  the  firm  mus- 
cles  ot'   the   t;rowuin'  hoy. 

He.alitv  for  a  o-reat  artist  is  .a  universe — 
limitless,  mysterious,  existent  in  his  imagi- 
nation. 1  could  wish  th.at  those  who  accuse 
Rodin  of  \ul,e.ar  realism,  mif^'ht  listen  to 
him.  .as  he  comments  upon  his  own  work.  I 
still  hear  him  exi)lainine-  ;i  little  group  of 
two  Hgures.  A  young  girl  is  seated  in  an 
•attitude  suggi'stive  of  awakening.  Tow.ard 
hca-  heiids  a  figure.  Is  it  a  genius  or  an 
angel  who  touches  his  lips  to  her  hrow,  as  if 
to  call  her  hack  to  life' 

■■'rhis    is    the    soul,    .awakened    l)y    a    kiss, 
after  the  close  of  the  earthly  life,  ami  sur- 
the    .artists    who    h.a\e    consoled    the    world,       prised   to   discover  th.at    I.ove   still   exists   ni 


have  dr.awn  their  iiispir.ation 


the   life  hevond  the  tomh. 


Hut   words  whicii  we  trv  to  perme.ate  with  On  entering  the  studio  museum,  on  find- 

tlie  spirit   of  things,  intirpret   our  meaning       ing  one's  self  in  the  midst  of  this  j.eoplc  of 
hut   feehly.     I.et  us  .attempt  to  g.aiii  Rodin's       st.itues    looking    out    upon    the    world    with 


^ 


^4?^' 


>«: 


Fiiriin*  IX.     I'ortrait-Bti-l:  .Miismni  of  tin-  l.iixt-inlMMirt:.  Pari-* 


VU 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


s(in-n«  fill,  (ir  \fi  \\itli  ciliii.  r<-traiiucl  t'ldiii  tlic  ^h-ii^;;K  ,  aii<l  tlif  da  v  Ntill  <iuivfr- 
ulaiiic.  (inc  i^  aiipallcd  at  tlic  tliciiiolit  of  iui;-  from  the  coiih-u't  of  It-,  master.  Then. 
tlif  colossal  lalioi-  of  tin  man  who  lia-.  pro-  tlicrr  arr  ^mall  groups.  iNi|iiisitu.  like  that 
<l\KTil    from    his   hrain    anil    heart.    In   aufiil       (if     the      ••Hrothcr     anil      sifter"     ami     tlir 

■■.Mother   and    chilil."   or.    ti-rrihlc   anil    [la^- 


A.i<i*'»->^& 


sion.-ite.  (lr>ii;nril  for  the-  ""(iate  of  Hell," 
upon  uhieh  l{o(liii  has  hiiii  working'  for  >o 
man\  \i-ars;  then.  aKo.  the  scries  of  "l^ic 
Kis>.""  which  appears  in  several  forms,  and 
other  i;roiips  or  Mnjj,'le  figures,  like  the  "Fall 
of  Icanis,"  the  ■■'rritoiis."  the  "Feiii.-de 
I'aiin."  -o  Mipjili'  .and  slinder,  "Desjjair," 
■■I.oM-  tlies.  or  the  Sphinx."  ■'Fate  and  the 
con\ales<'eiitN."  ■"I'raM'r."  thi'  fair  and  .tp- 
palhiii;  "I  leaumiere."  a  character  drawn 
from  the  poem  of  l''ran(,-ois  \  illoii.  l"'iiiall_v. 
there  are  sketches,  stiidii  •-.  f ranineiit>.  a  sin- 
uous tioiire  ot'  \\hich  the  various  planer  only 
are  indicated,  a  lei;  uith  teii>e  musi'les,  a 
contorted  arm.  a  relaxed  torso.  Kven  the 
o|.i>s  cases  with  uhich  the  studio  is  fur- 
nished are  tilled  with  <letails:  feet,  lejj's. 
arms,  studied  m  all  positions.  Tliere  i>. 
aiiiono'  the  othei-s.  a  case  in  which  one  sees 
traxall.  this  Immense  throng  of  lieini;s.  p.  rhaps  a  hiiiidied  dwarfs,  in  all  positions 
This  pciwer  of  creatino-,  w  itlKiiit  falii;iie(n-  and  with  all  (xpressioiis:  stretched  at 
failure.  \itali/ed  forms,  and  of  portrayine  length,  coiit  lacteil.  supplicat  ino-,  hlessino', 
with  signal  power  the  ])assioiis  and  dramas  in  repose,  t  hreateiiiiii;-.  muscular,  or  flesh- 
of  Immaiiitx .  lioiliii  possiss.s  to  such  di  oree  less,  molded  each  one  with  riinarkahle  jn-e- 
thal.iii  (U-der  to  tiiirl  his  siipi  rioi-s.we  must  re-  cision  and  intensity.  The  man  who  h.as 
sort  to  Hal/ac.  to  Shakespi  re  and  to  Dante.  studied  tli.-  le.ist  import.int  parts  of  the 
There  ,ire  the  ••Hroii/e  a^'e."  the  ""N  ii-tcn-  Imm.iii  liod\  \vith  such  a  loxe  id'  truth,  can 
IIiii;o."  destined  fm- the  (iardeii  of  till  l,u\-  siy  :  --Now  1  know  ,uiil  understand  :  now  I 
■  inlioiiri;.  ■■('omit  l'i;-oliiio  .■mil  his  cliil-  c;ui  cre.ite. 
dreii."  the  still  iiiiHiiished  monument  ot 
I'u\  Is  lie  (  h.iv.llines.  the  celelirated  i;rollp 
of    the    ■■  I5iiro'hers    of    ('al.iis"^;     numerous 

tiiistsep,,n  pedestals,  w  liich  ;ire  tnaled  w  1th  ^1^  T  .\'IT  K  I '.  is  for  liodiii  the  first  .iiiil 
such  \  iL;or  that  there  would  seem  to  ha\e  1^^  ure.itesl  of  te:u-liers.  'I'o  her  all 
heeii    .1    comh.at    hetweeii    the   .artist    .and   the  .irtisls   must   li.ixe   recourse.      She  is 

c|a\  :    the    .irtist    h,i\iiii;-    oi.ne    forth    \ictor       endurinL;l  \    lie.uitiful.    \ers.itile.   cli.-mgefid. 


Kiirure  .\.     L'"rtr.-iii-l'.iisi  ,,r  I'mis  .le  I  •|iav;iniii's 


:yM> 


AUGUST!-:     KODIX 


and  t'lrtilc  U>  the  point  of'  creating'.  «  ithoiit 
rt'pctit loii.  tonn^  rwv  nr«  ,  wlio^i'  iiuniln'i's 
can  not  he  coinited. 

Nature  i^  our  tejicher.  Thi-.  statement 
contains  a  trntli  a<>;<iTavatinf>-  heeause  of  its 
triteness.  'I'lie  insti'uctors  of  the  ■-eliool>  in 
\viii<-h  eonveiitionaUsni  is  cloniin.int,  do  not 
cease  repeatinii'  t'''^  prece])t  to  tlieir  >tn- 
<lents:  tlie  coniiietition-  for  the  I'ri.r  </c 
HotiK-  ^liow  u>  iii\ariahl\  "aeadeniies" 
studied  from  tlie  hvini;-  inixleL  and  nothine' 
is  Miore  naturalistic  tlian  tlie  work  in  -euii)- 
ture  of  that  most  eoii\  ent  ional  arti-.t.  1  he 
recently  deceased  M.  (ii'-rome.  memher  of 
the  Institute. 

Om-  must  helieve  then  that  Kodin  has 
studied  Natui'i'  otherwiNe  and  lietter  than 
other  men.  ami  that  when  liesa\^:  "Xatnic 
l>  the  i^reat  teacher."  the  word--  have  a 
<h'ft'erent  and  deeper  •~enM'  for  him  than  thev 
possess  for  the  in^t  reetoi--.  of  the  School  <if 
Kin.'  Arts. 

Nature  does  not  yii-ld  herself  .md  her 
seci-et>  freely.  It  is  not  enough  to  >tu(iv  her 
liastily  and  sui)erHcially.  To  fathom  her 
(]e])ths.  it  is  necessary  to  make  >i  liou^  and 
constant  effort.  She  must  he  lo\eil  in  all 
her  phases,  evc-n  in  her  deformities,  which 
are  only  apj)arent.  Above  all.  -he  mu>t  he 
considered  without  prejudice,  and  with 
fresh  eyes.  'J'llis  is  not  done  in  the  --ehools, 
where,  if  the  student  fixes  oTie  ive  on  the 
livinjr  model,  he  consults  with  the  other  the 
rule-  of  the  pro])ortions  of  the  liody  estali 
lished  hy  the  old  Greek  scul))tor>. 

'J'lie  artist  who  deeply  loves  Nature  and 
who  j)enetrates  her  ineaninfv,  soon  reali/e> 
that,  rei^arded  as  a  «  hole,  she  is  not  inert  and 
dead,  hut  i-athe|-  a  \italized  oi-j^anism  :  he 
I)erc-eive>  in  her  the  \il)i-ation.  the  slnidder, 
the   ;;rowtli   of   inexliauNtihle    life;    he   feels 


that  a  silicic  power  aniuLates  and  a-^itate-^ 
him-elf  and  the  universe,  and  ho  cries  with 
Hyron  : 

"Are  not  the  ]iioiintaiiis,  w:i\es  ;ui(l    --kies  ;i  part 
et'  UK-  .iml  of  my  m>ii1.  ii-.  I  of  llicin  :-"' 

Does  the  work  remain  to  he  done'"  Is  it 
lu'edful  to  seek  now  to  eopv.  to  imitate 
Nature?  No.  and  there  lies  the  material  for 
an    eternal    iiii--uiider>t.uidinti'.  To    eopv 

.Nature  lead>  only  to  insipid  and  insif^'nifi- 
eant  works.  There  lived  in  the  ein'liteeiith 
century  a  jialiiter  who  atteinjjfed  to  eopv 
Nature  literally.  Winn  he  enti,-an-cd  upon 
a  portrait,  he  spent  entire  years  in  eonij)let- 
iiif>'  it  :  everythino-  was  ])erfectly  exact  as  to 
hotli  color  and  form:  there  was  no  accent  of 
the     face     which     was     not      faithfiillv     re- 


KiL'lir.       XI.        I'l.l  llMll    I.M~1 

produced;  not  a  wi-inkli',  however  small, 
which  was  lacking'  from  the  |iieture,  not  a 
liuttoii,  and  scar<il\  a  hair.  The  imitation 
of  Natur.'  will  never  he  carried  farther.   The 


THE    CKAFTSMAN 


paiiitcrV  ii.inic-  ua>  SiiiiKold.  a  iiaiiif  hi-ilav  iiKiilcT.ah' cax'  an  at;rrial)li'  tunii  of  art.  and 
almost  unknown.  I  lis  |iatHiu-c.  liis  lalior  tiny  |-ciiiain  faithful  to  it.  Hut  one  who 
a\ailiil  n(itliin;4-.  for  lir  follouid  a  wron,!;'  has  nioi-c  than  taKiit.  nr\ia-  nmaius  satistird 
dircctliai.      .\i-t  docs  not  i-ousist  in  iniitatini;-       with  a  fonnid.i  found  once  t'oi-  all  :  lie  strives 

unreasiuol V  lo  reach  an  uitei-|u'etation  ot 
Nature  higher  and  more  person.al. 

Let   Us  listen   to  Rodni   himself,  as  lie  ex- 

jiresses    Inniselt'    U|)OU    this    sulljei't: 

" W  first,  I  made."  hi'  said,  ■■tliiiii;-s  skil- 
ful and  .adroit.  Iioldiv  ti-e.ited,  .■iiid  not  with- 
out merit.      Hilt    I   felt   me.unvliile  th.at  I  was 

in      error I      h.ad      miieh      tronhlo 

,Vrt     is    not     mnt.atioii,    .and    only 

Imheeiles     llelie\e     th.at     Wi-    e.in     ta-e.ate    soille- 

tliint;-;  Hn-refori',  it  reni.aiiis  t'or  Us  to  inter- 
jU'il  N.ati'n-  ill  .1  i;i\eli  seiisi'.  I'',:ieh  one 
tr.aiisl.ates  .aecordinn  to  his  iiidi\idii,d  deti- 
nitioii.      I  li.i\e  .it   Last   formiil.ateil  my  own. 

"1  li.i\e  p.issed  throii;j,li  i^re.at  trouble, " 
s.iid  Kodin.  M.iy  these  \Mirds  of  a  ni.aster 
111'  a  eoiiifort  lo  .all  tliosr  \\\]i)  experience 
simil.ar  tri.als  I 

If  \\r  now  desire  to  le.arii  111  uli.at  dine- 
tion  Ixodill  h.ls  exerted  this  eti'ort  to  iii- 
terprel.     We     sh.all     find     tll.at     lie     ll.ls     deMlted 

hiiiisilf  to  life.  i\  |iressioii  .and  .action. 

lie  is  the  m.ister  ot'  .action.  If  we  ex- 
.amiiie  his  work,  \\r  sli.all  discmer  no  .arrested 
motion,  no  repose.  ■■S.aiiit  .loliii  li.ajitist 
\Mdks.  tremlilinn'  \villi  dixiiu'  eiitliusi.asin : 
the  ■•Hurnheis  of  C.il.ais"  are  .aiKanciiii^'  to 
iii.irl  \  rdoiii  ;  even  the  liusts  (|ui\  er  w  ith  life. 
,ind,  ill  tln'  siii.dl  i;rou|is  of  the  •'(i.ate  of 
llell,""  we  see  :l  tem|lest  of  Ulterl.iced  lioilles. 
N.iture.  If  it  \Mre  thus,  where  \uiuld  he  contorled  .and  fallini;-  throiii;h  sp.ace.  Uodin 
our  need  of  .artists  to-d.i\r  Pliotoi^r.aplis  is  the  m.aster  .and  t  lie  poet  of  act  ion.  (rreek 
would   siitfice  Us.  st.atii.arv.    .as    ,a    whole,    is    ,a    ;^re,at    study    ot 

.\rt  consists  111  the  sr.irch  .mil  the  .accent-  re|iose;  we  find  therein  cert.ain  uell- 
U.ation  of  the  sii;iiific.aiit  ch.ar.icterist ic.  It  co-orilin.ated  .aiiil  solemn  processions,  hut. 
does  not  reside  in  cop\ino';  it  is  piireK  se-  for  the  most  p.art.  the  siili  pets  chosi  n  .are  of 
lection.       Persons    of    talent    discover    with       o-ods    who   condescend    to    li\e.    ot    superlily 


Fi-ni-c   Xll.     Miiliic  ..t    ll;il 


tii|-iii('(l  atlilclr-.  lirldrc  tlir  ^t  ril<;<i,'li'.  Aiul  i^rrat  artistic  [la^l  \^lll(■ll  tile  man  of  mir 
I  roiii  this  point  (if  view  il  is  almost  tlicsaiiu'  time  mav  cdiwiilt  anil  cjiicsfiiin.  W'lial 
witli  the  Middle  Ayi's.      As  a  fri'Ucral  state-       nia-tcr-  shoulil  lu'  cliDosr: 

nienl .  \vr  iiia\'  sav  that  niDninncntal  statuarx  \\  hilr  -.o   nianv  arti-.|s   hn^cr  i)\  rr  si  \  Ics 

iliio  not  jHTnnt  \iolrnt  action  and  n'esturcs.  ol  si'condai'\  nii|iortaiicc.  Ho(hn  lias  souj;hl 
( 'oiiti'niporaiu'oiis  sculpturi'  is  niort'  uj;'i-  instruction  solciv  t'luni  llic  l»o  L;iialc-I 
latcd,  hut  il"  one  cxaiuinc  it  closclv.  one  per-  periods  in  art  liistorv  .  lie  lia^  studied  with 
ccives  that  there  has  heeii  otahlisjied  uhat  excellent  results  the  classic  (Jreek.  aii<l  I  he 
one  iiia\'  term  a  ripirtar//  of  attitudes.  mediaeval  I''reiicli  sciilpl  ii  re. 
"Inch.      like      -tereolvpi'd       t'oriiiulas,      are  Then'  are   luo  essential   tliinjrs   which   he 

-.carciiv  eMr  disre^'arded.  'I'here  have  thus  has  learned  in  the  art  of"  these  e})ochs,  so  far 
liieii  coii-titiited  coinentional  ^'eslures  for  I'emoxcd  the  one  from  the  other,  and  uliich 
the  man  ruiiiiine-,  fallina;,  or  struii'ii'linu'. 
and  for  the  fii>-ure  in  re])ose.  kneelin<;'.  or 
risiiio'.  Hut  Hodiii  has  introduced  into 
-ciilptiire  soniethinj^'  neu  and  personal.  He 
has  seen  in  life  an  infinite  varietv  of  .af- 
litudes.  lie  has  treated  neither  arrested 
motion  nor  completed  action.  I  lis  eve  has 
heen  alile  to  rcfj'ister  the  motion  uhich  has 
just     de\iloped    into    action.  l''roni    this 

power  ha->  resulted  an  imnu'lise  niultij)li- 
cat  ion  of  --culptiiral  form-.  :< la r inn'  attitudes 
nevei-  liit'ore  sei/ed  hv  the  sculptor,  un- 
expected, disturhino-.  hnl  true  witha],  ex- 
pressive, lieu  and  heaiitifiil.  uliieli  he  has 
Iran^lated  from  life  into  liron/e  or  iiiarhle, 
while  retaiiiiii':'  llie  \italit\    of  llie  ori"inal. 


IIJ  ADITIOX. 

Till'-  artist  doe>  not  stand  aloni-  in  the 
presence  of   Nature.      Others  hefore 
him  have  otf'ei'ed  nitei-prelal  lon^-  and 
have    iH'corded    in    immortal    works    the    sin- 


sation-   which   thev   experienced   in   presence  I-jummc-  .Mil     Saim  .lolm  Karai-i:  .Mi.s,  „,„  ..f  ti„. 

!■     ,  I  ■                         11           ,•     •          ■    •                     .'  hnxeinlionrir.  Paris 
ol     lliiiif;>    capable    ot     iiispwin^'    omotioii. 

'riiii^  the  technical  |)rol)lems  which  confi-onl  vet   oll'er  --it  mam    jioiiil^  of  riseinlilancc-  to 

the  artist  of  to-day   have  confronted  thou-  him    who    pemli-ates    lielow     superficial    ap 

sands  of  artists  before  him.  and  have  maiiv  |«araiices. 

tinicN    met     with    solution.       There    o.xi.sts    a  The  fii'st    i^  the  (Hiest  ion  of'  what   ma\    In 


r,-M> 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


called  tlu'  luminous  envelope  of  tlir  work  of 
sciil]ilurr.  W'liilc  \\(ii-kii|i^'  upon  a  statue. 
I  lie  sculptor  slio\il<l  constantly  remeniher 
lliat    his   fiji-ure.   wlien    conipleteil,    is    not    to 


■4 


\\\        I  \u-   Kf 


stand  in  IIm  niodilied  linlit  of  a  studio.  Hut 
I  Ills  fru'l  is  ignored  ni  almost  everv  case  li\ 
(lie  artist,  so  ahsorlied  is  he  in  tlie  inimc'diatc 
and  pressini;'  ditticnlt  ics  of  Ins  tasL  lie 
seeks  and  toils,  undoes  and  repau's,  for^'<'ts 

.■)l(i     • 


tlie  future,  contemplates  and  studies  his 
work  in  the  cold,  colorless  li<;-lit  of  his 
studio:  s(i  continuino-  until  he  jiulo'es  that 
he  can   l;o  no   farther. 

The  statue,  when  finished,  is  usually 
iilaced  unilei-  tln'  ,i;'lass  ddine  of  some-  e\- 
))ositiiin  hall,  where  it  anaiii  stands,  with  ;i 
luuidred  eoiiipauions  or  more,  ui  an  artificial 
liy-ht  sinnlar  to  that  cif  the  artisfs  studio  in 
uhicll  it  was  created.  At  the  close  of  the 
exposition,  it  passes  on  to  confront  the  rude 
ordeal  of  full  da\liyht  awaitint;'  it  in  some 
puhlic  sciuare.  It  is  then  that  a  i-emark.alile 
phenomenon  occurs. 

This  statue  whi<-h.  in  the  studio  or  at  the 
exposition,  produced  a  certaui  effect,  he- 
comes  snddenlv  .-ittemiated,  devoid  of  accent 
and  \  I^-or.  coiix  eiitional,  commoniilace  and 
mediocre.  All  that  was  \  io'orous  and  dis- 
tinctixe  disapjiears.  The  fioure  seems  to 
ha\e  dissohcd  in  the  o])en  air.  The  scul])- 
tor,  in  e\ecutiii;4'  it,  foi-o-ot  one  tliinp;  only: 
naiiielv,  th.it  his  statue,  instead  of  beiner 
seen  in  the  sc.ittired,  sifted  and  strained 
lioht  of  the  studio,  was  destined  to  he  placed 
in  the  stroll--  full  lio-ht  of  the  s(]uarc  or 
]iark.  where  tlu'  ten.  twenty  or  fifty  yards 
of  distance  intervening-  hetwceii  the  statue 
and  the  sjiectatoi-.  produce  for  the  former 
an  envelo))e  of  li^'ht. 

Th(-  (Jreek  .-Old  the  (lothic  sculptors  rcc- 
oo-nizcd  this  fact  and  gave  it  consideration. 
From  tli(-m  liodin  has  also  leai-ned  it.  But 
(-ontrarx-  to  what  mie^ht  he  helii-ved.  it  is 
not  simply  an  ap))areiit  attenuation  of  the 
work  which  occurs  in  the  ojieii  air.  If  this 
wi-re  all.  it  would  he  e.-isy  to  thicken  the 
w  hole,  to  execute  in  lai-j;-e.  so  that  the  statue, 
heino-  in  its  final  position,  mifi'lit  offer  the 
desired  effect.  \o.  the  matter  is  more  com- 
])licated.     If  the  dimensions  he  exaggerati-d. 


AlcaSTK     KODLN 


tlie  statui'  "ill  appear  no  loss  dull,  lumccen- 
timti'd  anil  weak.  The  (ircoks,  wlioso  vision 
was  ri'fintd  and  sulitdc  ohstrvcd  at  an  carh 
st;lf^"i'  of  tlii'ir  art  the  di--torti(ni  produced 
1)V  tiic  atmosphere  in  the  masses  and  the 
profiles  of  monuments:  tlierefori'.  «ith  m- 
eoneei\ai)le  (k'lieacv.  when  thev  con-^tructed 
or  executed,  thev  purposelv  distin't<'d  their 
hues  HI  an  oj)posite  direction,  ui  order  to 
ohtani    a    correct    effect.  'I'hev     had     re- 

mai'ki-d.  for  nistance.  that  the  cohmm^ 
standinu'  inid"a\  iii  the  })ortico  of  a  tc^mple 
appeared  to  he  ot'  wreater  diamett'r  than 
tlioso  placed  at  the  anj;les  :  liecaiise  at  a  few 
vards  behind  them,  the  wall  ati'orded  a  hack- 
•iround.  'I'he  corner  columns,  on  the  con- 
trary, appeared  to  he  more  slender,  because 
tlicv  stood  relievi'd  a<i;ain>t  the  sky  and  were 
bathed  on  all  sides  by  the  atmosphere.  For 
this  reason,  the  (irock  artists  increased  the 
diameter  of  the  cornel'  columns,  so  that  they 
mifj'ht  ])resent  the  same  appearance  as  tho--e 
which  bad  the  l)ackyroun<l  of  wall.  It  i-  to 
be  retfretted  that  the  y-reater  number  of  oui' 
architects  are  if^noraiit  of  this  truth  ;  e\en 
those  who  worship  the  classic  orders  .and 
carry  about  with  them,  as  a  sacred  relic,  a 
pocket  edition  of  \'itruvius.  And  still  to- 
day, the  corner  column--  of  certaui  edifices 
apj)ear  to  incline  oiitw.ird.  altliouiiii  they 
are  in  fact  perpendicular  to  their  base.  In 
order  to  irivc  them  aj)parent  straiirbtnes>. 
the  Greiks  projected  them  sli<rhtly  inw.u-d. 
while  in  modern  structures,  both  European 
and  American,  little  attention  has  been 
;^iven  to  these  optical  illusions,  caused  by 
the  effect  of  liji;ht.  even  in  those  cases  in 
which  the  colonnade  is  a  prominent  feature. 
Unt  yet  the  laws  of  oj)tics  are  innnutable. 
the  same  to-day  .is  they  were  three  thousand 
years  ago. 


'I'he  ancient  (Jreeks  recoo;ni/ed  also  the 
part  pl.iyed  by  the  limiinous  envelope  in  the 
c;ivi'  of  >l.aturN:  that  it  causes  details  to  dis- 
appr.ii-  III  the  open  air.  leaving-  onl\  the 
priiici})al  lines  and  plam-s  of  a  fij^-ure  dis- 
tinct ;md  clear.  Therefore,  it  is  essential  to 
delhie  lanphaticalU'  thcNc  plane>  .-uid  lines, 
.■iiid  tlie--e  .-doiic'.  l''rom  this  nn-thod  n-sults 
llic  ideal  siiiiplific.it  ion  (  scient  ilicall  v  sjie.ak 
uil;'  )  of  ( ri'eek  ,a rl . 

The  sciil])lors  of  the  .Middle  .\i;'es.  b\  the 
|)l';ictice  of  llieir  .art.  reached  the  same  con- 
clusions   and    know  ledoe.         'I'he\-    executed 


I  ii.'irr.     .\\  ,      A   .•.,,iii„.ti.l   liMM'l 

their  works  to  hi-  placed  in  tin-  open  air  and 
under  the  most  varied  conditions  of  li<ihl. 
There  exist  figures  of  saints  ])l.aci-d  in  the 
porches  of  churches  with  a  backeiround  of 


U\ 


TlIK    CRAl'TS.MAX 

uall    ;i    siiifi'lc   foot    hrliind   tliciii  :   tlnTr  an-  forced   hi  trrat   all   these   intneate   problems 

also   l)as-i-c|iefs    ill   the   t  vinjiaiiiiiiis   of   |)oi--  hased  iipiiii  ojieii-air  ]iheiioineiia.      And  1 1  lev 

tals;     there    are    tit;iiri's    liio-jiei'    u]).     under  accoiiij)lished  their  task.      Let  lis  o-jaiice  at  a 

talieiiiaele^    and     hetweiii     t'oill'    coloiinet  tes  cathedral  I       II    |s    adorned    \ntli    one   oi'    two 

uith     |iiiiiiacles,    uhicli    siinnoiinl     llie    hill  hundred   figures   in   stoiie  :   all    in   scak'.  ami 

I  resscs.      .\:^aiii  Mieri'  ail'  ot  liel's,  hli^her  >t  ill,  all    |)rodilcin;j,'    the   etfi'Ct    which    the   scailjilor 

ii|ioii   the  i^allii'ii'^  or  colonnades  \ihicli  <'oii  demandi'd   ol    Ihein.      'I'he\    are   in   a    pt'rfecl 

necl     the    louers.         All    these    fii_;iires.    siili-  en\  iroiimeiit  ;  the\caii  lie  read  at  a  distance  ; 


Wl       Til.-    W: 


iiiir;;c(l    III    the    at  iiioNpheiT.    ai'e    atfected    li\  llievsa\    what    is  essriit  la  I  a  iid  not  Imii; more', 

ditfirenl    h^liK,  sometimes  ditfuscil  and  siili-  Now.   let    iis  examine,  at    the  side  of  a  cathe- 

lile.    sometimes    smipli',    liirr    intense,    there  dial,   collie   niodirii   editice.   houevcr   tamoii-- 

\eil(d    and    siilidued.       1  nter\  ('iiin<^'    helweeii  it   iiia\    lie!       I. it   lis  ^tiid\    till'  statues  uliich 

tlie-,1-  tjo'iires  and  the  spectator  liilou.  there  inciimlier   it^   surface'       \o   one   id'  them    i^ 

are    ten.   t\M-iil\.   or   tliirt\     \ards   of   space.  re.ilh    in  its  propi  r  |il.ici'.  or  can  he  seen  at 

'I'lius.  I  he  sculptors  of  tln'  Middle  Agc's  were  a  di.stance  ;  and  if  certain  ainoiio'  them  are 


.\l   (.1   sri'.     KODIX 

iiitriiisifallv    ^-ood.    it    is    .ilmost    imariahlv  roco^'iii/cd,    iiidicatcd    and    accciilcd.      And 

true  that,  standing-  a>  tluv  do  m   tlu'  opoii  such   results  can   he  ohtaincd  only  tliroufrh 

air,  tlicy  lose  thircl)\   all  sjo-nificance.  extreme  siniplitical  ion.  l)v  su|)i)res>inj;'  piir- 

It'  ur  ask  hiiu   Ihe  sculptor^  of  the  Middle  j)c)sel_v  e\i'r\    tiling-  that    is  detail  or  nithoul 

A*;'!-'.-'  suci'eeded   in   producmj^'  with  --o  nuich  ini'ainiii;'.      It  is  w  it  h  I  his  |)nr|)osc  that  Uodin 

<vrtaintv    such    i^reat    n-fini'inent    ot'    efl'ect.  has   woi'ked.    making;    possililc   the   ixohitiori 

we  shall   lie   met    \\  ilh   the  aiisurr   that    thev  ol'  his  art  \\  liieli  has  proeeedid  I'roni  ■"sklll'iil 

employed    the    same    means    as    the    (ii'i'eks;  thinfi's   holdU    e\ecute<l,""   up   to   the   hiii-jiest 


Ficun-  Xyil.     Thf  .\l. 


that     is.     siniphfication     (still     scienlifically  synthetic  simjilification,   represented  hy   the 

speakinei).  statue   of    Malzac:   a    woi'k    siniplitied    in    so 

This    is    what     l{o(liii    has    learned    from  radical  a  spirit   that    it   caused   its  author  lo 

Ihi^m,   and    what    so    few    of   his    colleaf^nes  l)e  taxed  with  insanity. 

reah/e   and    undcrstaml.         Kodin    has    dis-  I,et   ns   listen   to   lioihn's    just  ideal  ion   of 

covered  as  tlioy  did,  that    Ihi'  essential  only  his  own   statue:      ".My   isseiitial    planes  are 

must  he  tnated.  and  that   the  essentials  ot   a  there.     wliat<ver    one    iiiav     sa\',    and     they 

(ieruro  are  its  planes.     These  planes  must  he  would  he  there  less,  if  I  apparently  finished 

a4.i 


^ 


.:*C^' 


^M 


>*W4:'  -^ 


^«»,-  .  .>^1 


Figure  XVIII.     The  Kiss;  Museum  of  the  Luxenihoury-,  Paris 


■,u 


.\i  (.rsi'i',    u-)i)iN" 


iiiort'  hitrlilv.      A-   111   jiolisliino-  the  toes  or  ^~^  1(11    i>   tlic   uiirk   ol'   Aiij^iisto   liodiii. 

tlio  rinfr](-ts  of  a   statuo,   such  dotails  liavr  /^\     It    itm'uIs   an   almost    fnii/ivd    power 
IK)   interest    for   iiie:   thev    coiiiproiiiise   the  of  iiiia<>'iiiation,  an   intensity,  an  t'\- 

eentral   idea,  the   <;Teat   line,  the  essenee  of  eess  of  life  and  |)assion  I'xplaininjj;  the  eon 

what    I    have   desired,   and    I    have   notliin<;'  tro\ersKs  wliich   it    pro\iik»s  at    its  appear 

more  to  .S!i_v  upon  tiiis  subject.     This  is  the  anee   in    the   calm,    indifferent    and   eultnnd 

dividing  line  between  the  puhlie  and  myself.  circles  called  the  public:  explaining;-  also  the 

between  the  good   faith   which   it   ought   to  gnat     admiration     which    attaches     to    the 

preserve    toward    me    and    the    concessions  name  of  Rodin  ni  both  l''r,iMce  and   I'oreigTi 

which  I  ought  not  to  make  in  its  favor."  count i-ies. 

One  of  the  important  works  of  Itodin  is  It   is,  I  think,  a  cert.-iin  (|ualit\    of  excess 

the  "Gate  of  Hell,"  destined   for  the  ^lu-  and   intensity   which   has   made   his   fame  so 

seum  of  the  Decorative  Arts.     It   ulllbecast  great  outside  of  !•' ranee.      In  t  he  o))inion  of 

in  bron/e.        For  fifteen  years  the  sculptor  foreignei's,   Fi-ench   genius   is   too   often   an 

lias  been  working  upo7i  it;  but  it  is  not  yet  affable,  ci\  ili/ed.  cultured   faculty,  capable 

completed.       At    the    smnmit    of    the    gate.  of  undii'standing  evervtlung  and  of  renew- 

U})on  tlic  cornice,  sits  a  man.  "'riie  Thinker."  ing  and  ie\  itali/ing  all  subjects,  bv  giving 

who,  with  elbows  resting  upon  his  knees,  and  them  an  e\(|uisite  en\  ironment  or  envelo])e. 

head  .supj)orted  by  his  hands,  ga/es  at  the  liut,  at  the  s.une  time,  they  criticise  French 

tortured  sinners  writhing  beneatii  him.      He  genius  as  being  closed  against   the  world  of 

meditates   while   gazing:    he    thinks    of   the  the  colossal  and  the  terrii)le.     .\nd  if  proof 

suffcring.s  of  the  world  with  such  an  effort  of  such   judgment  be  demand<(l.  they  point 

of  concentration   that,  from  head  to   foot.  to    the   slight    influence    which,   during   the 

there  is  no  muscle  of  his  body  which  is  not  cours<-  of  centuries,  has  been  exerted  liv  the 

turgid    and    contracted.       "The    Thinker."  poem  of   Dante   upon    I''rench   thought   .ind 

enlarged  to  heroic  size  and  cast   in  bronze.  culture, 
will  be  show  n  at  the  St.  Louis  Exposition.  .\uguste   Kodin    |)(>ssesses   a   soul   created 

If  we  wished  to  be  exact,  we  should  de-  to  comjirehend  and  to   produce  the  colossal 

scribe     the     .splendid,     synthetic     drawings  and  all  which  is  too  great   for  human  meas- 

wliich  Rodin  has  e.\hibited  for  several  years  ui'e.     His  genius  can  be  summed  uj)  by  say- 

pa.st.     They  arc  sketches,  a  line,  a  contour.  ing   that    he,   contrarv    to   the   criticisms   of 

a  single  form,  made  at  one  stroke,  with  a  foreigners,  would  be  the  best  fitted  of  mod 

calm  assurance  which  reveals  the  ruling  ten-  erns  to  j)ictun'  the  thougiit  of  Dante:  that 

dcncy    of  the  art   of  the   master   toward   .a  contrary  to  the  i)elief  of  many   I'niichnnn. 

more  com])lete,   more  significant   siniplifica-  he  is  the  worthiisf  contempiu'.irv   heu' ol   the 

tion.     The  greater  lunnber  of   his  drawings  old   (Jreek    artists,    the   mosi    subtile   .ippre- 

have  already  been  engraved.  ci.ilor  of  (Jreek  beauty. 


TliK    t  IIAITS.MAN 


CO.MMl'.IU   lAl,     \.\M'I',     Ol'     1)1';SI(;N  Iii(ii|str\    Ic.  a   ivali/.ilKMi   Ih.Ht    llii^  cnnntrv. 

ti)  MU'Cicd   ill   llic   f'l'tniT  and   liold    if^   rank 

IN    llir    initial   article  iif   tins   scrii's   llir  aiiionj;'  tlic   iialidiis  n\'  tlic   \v(irld,  must    add 

anilior  says:     "Sluif  in,  as  it  urrc.  to  to    its    ra\v     prodiii-t     the    \aliir    of'    drsij^ai. 

s(.T\c    its   iiuniT,    pnxatc   art    is   hut    a  Natural    rcsiinrrcs.    w-rcat    \irilitv    iiiav,    f'oi' 

lirarllifirc  lliat  wavins  oiiU    its  Unildrr.  Ilic  time  licin^'.  kcrji  a   nation   to  tlir   tVcml. 

and  lia\  CN  but  i'rw  <ir  no  t'lnlnTs  t  hat  cancvcr  hut    no    jxTinanint    siicccns   can    In-   achic\(il 

l;-1o"    aoain  after  the  hri'ath  of  his   fortune  without  cai-efiil  stiid\   and  thoui^-ht  f  iil  |)re|i- 

lias   ceaM-d   to   fan    it.       Hut    jiiihhc   art    is   a  aration.      'I'his    is    recoeiii/e<l    hv    the   older 

(ii'e   limit    III    the    market    place,    from    which  nations  of  l''urope.  which  strixc  not   to  pro 

each   citi/en   hm'rows   li\e  coals   t'nv  liis  ou  ii  diice   i^reat    (|uaiit]ties  of   raw    material,  hiil 

home."  to  make  each  ton  of  raw    material  relurii  as 

No  statement   can   he  truer  .and   no  stati'-  oi^^t  a  \ah:c  as  possihle  l)\-  the  .added  (|u;d- 

meiit  e\(r  c.ami'  from  n  source  nion-  ,iiith(n'-  itv  of  (Icsir^n. 

ihitiNc.      -lohn  DeWitt  ^^'anler,  .an  eminent  Without,    pei'haps,    .a    reah/ation    of    this 

law\cr,    li.as     for    xcars    dc\dted     time    .and  fund.ament.al   principle,  h.arharic  race-  ha\e 

(aiero-y    to    the   ,ad\  anceinent    of   ,art    in    this  in  fact  ni.ade  arms  and  iiiijileinints  which  to 

coiiiitrv.       To    a     n.itur.il    apprei-i.ation     of  dav  we  cherish,  not  hecause  of  their  iitilit\. 

lorm  .and  coiiu'.  he  .adds  ,i   liro.ad  linmaii   in  hut    hec.aiise   of   the   rude   archaic   (uaiameiit 

ti'ivst   III  (a\ic  dexclopiiKiit.      lie  h.as  served  which    «as    .added    with    siich    priiniti\i'    hut 

in   e\er\    cap.acitx     IVom    the    pri\.iti'   to   the  m.i^tei'lv  strokes.      The  works  of  the  A/tcc, 

president   .and   le.adei',  .and   now    .it    the  head  ol   the  .N,a\.a|o  .and  other  .\nua'ic.an   Indians 

of     the    first     Art     ('oimnission     which     New  .are    .inion^'    the    choicest     t  re.asiiris    in    oiir 

^  ork  has  e\er  h.ad,  he  st.ands  not  oiil\   .as  an  museums.      The  more  m.atiire  efforts  of  the 

influi'lice   for  .all   th.at    is  liest    in   .aesthetic  de-  Assvri.ails      and      the      I'',n\  pt  kills      ;ire      \vell 

velopmeiil,    hut     .a^    a     jud^'e    hefore    whom  known,  .and  the  Later  work  of  the  (ireek,  I  he 

iiiiisl    pass  the  .artistic  iniproN ciiieiils  of  this  (haent.al  .and  the  Askatic  peoples   is  too  well 

i;re,al  citv.       1  le  personifies,  as  iloes  no  othir  known  to  need  mention. 

one  m.an,  the  .appreciation  of  the  l.ixin.in  for  In     pottery     the    simple     utensils     of    the 

that     .ahstract    (|U.alil  \     which     for    a    hitter  home,  sellino-.  as  tin  did  at  the  t  iine  of  tin  ir 

n.aiiie   wi'   call    piihlic   .art.       Hi-   coniprehin-  creation,  for  sum-,  too  iiisio-nific.ant  to  meii- 

si\e     treatmiiit      of     the     ""  I  m  pm't.ance     of  I  ion.  .are  cherished  .a-  precious  treasures,  he- 

Munaap.al     1  mprox  a  ineiit-"'    iiicoiir.a  ocs    the  c.aiise    of    tlieii-    ornament    .and    color.       The 

consider.al  ion   of   the    presint    .article   on   the  \ases  of   the   l-',o\pt  kaiis   .and    the   still    mine 

"(  ' lie  riaal  \  a  hie  of  Design."  w  liich  in  its  mature  work  of  the  'I'lirk-.  arc'  now  .  .and  for 

Very     st.alemeiil     chalKaio'e-     criticism     .and.  m.aiiy    \ears  to  come  will   he,  of  ine-tim.ahli 

.jiid^in^-    hv    the    action    of   our    lei^isl.al  ure  value.       In    textiles    the    s.inie    i^    true,      the 

and  (al\    ofHci.aU,  ha-  iu'ver  heeii   recon'iiized  wul'k  of  the  hand  loom  survives,  not  so  much 

in  this  ore,! I   coiintrv.      It   is  hoped  th.at  this  from   the  fact   that   it  is  done  hy  h.and.  hut 

short    .article    m.ay    -hart    a    dis(ai-sion    which  from    the    excelliaice    of    the    desioii.       The 

ill    Ihe  (lid   will    kad   liu'   i;a'e,al    Captains   of  simjile  stulf- of  t  he  Orient .  Ilie  cotton  prints 
:ACt 


VALUE   OF   DESIGN 


of  India,  the  silks,  the  velvets,  and  those 
wonderful  rugs,  are  regarded  as  invaluable, 
not  because  we  have  not  the  same  materials 
and  cannot  reproduce  the  same  stuffs,  but 
because  of  those  wonderful  combinations  of 
tone  and  color  which  were  undoubtedly  the 
result  of  long  and  careful  study.  Tap- 
estry, that  queen  of  textiles,  stands  to-day 
as  the  most  remarkable  combination  of 
graphic  abilitj-  in  textile  form,  and  its 
value  is  commensurate  with  the  ability  dis- 
played. While  laces  and  embroideries  have 
been  appreciated  and  arc  still  appreciated, 
they  will,  eventually,  have  to  step  aside  and 
leave  the  place  of  honor  to  the  tapestry  and 
the  rug ;  for  these  have  those  possibilities 
in  design  and  color  which  must  in  the  course 
of  things  grant  them  the  precedence. 

In  wood  we  have  a  material  which,  in  its 
natural  form,  has  possibly  the  lowest  value, 
but  which,  as  a  manufactured  article,  even  in 
its  simple  forms,  demands  attention.  Given 
the  added  quality  of  design  in  chair  or  table 
and  its  cost  materially  increases;  add  the 
touch  of  the  craftsman,  and  the  \aIuo  is  still 
further  enhanced^  add  the  quality  of  the 
sculptor.and  in  tryptich,reredos,and  carved 
choir  stall,  it  assumes  untold  value.  The  un- 
hewn block  of  stone  is  of  little  worth  :  shape 
it  under  the  builder's  hand  and  its  worth 
increases ;  give  it  the  touch  of  the  chisel  and 
its  value  is  only  gauged  by  the  ability  of 
the  artist.  The  Schiinen  Brunnen,  many  of 
the  monuments  of  Europe,  the  frozen  music 
of  tlic  cathedrals,  could  not  have  existed  but 
for  this  material.  Their  ])riceless  value, 
however,  is  not  to  be  gauged  by  their 
cubical  contents,  but  by  the  merit  of  the 
design  tiius  held  in  imperishable  form. 
Marble  in  slab  or  column  has  its  minimum 
value  and  is  often  j)assed  unnoticed;  when 


used  as  inserts  in  clever  combinations,  it  ar- 
rests attention,  and  when  in  smaller  tesserae 
it  becomes  the  mosaic,  its  value  is  increased 
a  hundred-fold.  The  marble,  which  in  the 
mass  may  be  considered  crude  or  uninter- 
esting, is,  when  deftly  combined  in  small 
pieces  and  undor  the  hand  of  the  skilled 
artisan,  a  medium  wliicli  produces  results 
second  to  none. 

The  metals  when  sold  by  the  ton  are  a 
commercial  quantity,  but  when,  under  the 
stroke  of  the  hanmier,  they  become  wrought 
iron  or  chiseled  brass,  when  under  the  touch 
of  the  tool  they  become  repotissc,  or  in  the 
hands  of  the  founder  they  assume  deft  and 
beautiful  shapes, — their  worth  is  immeas- 
urably increased. 

Glass,  perhaps  one  of  the  most  difficult 
materials  to  produce  in  its  crude  state,  is 
still  naught,  until  touched  by  the  hand  of 
the  Venetian,  the  Bohemian,  or  those  master 
workers  of  the  iVIiddlo  Ages,  who  from  this 
material  have  produced  windows  which, 
while  having  the  charm  of  the  mosaic,  rival 
the  color  and  the  composition  of  the  picture. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  speak  of  design 
in  decoration  or  to  show  how  building  after 
building  has  been  beautified  by  the  stroke 
of  the  brush.  We  are  not  speaking  of  those 
great  efforts  which  may  be  claimed,  and 
justly  claimed,  as  the  finer  art,  but  of  those 
simpler  combinations  of  form  and  flower, 
which,  with  accent  of  shield  and  escutcheon, 
make  a  fitting  backgroimd  to  the  purposes 
of  the  room.  We  are  not  claiming  for  de- 
sign in  decoration  the  credit  which  is  due 
to  the  abstract  art  creation.  The  single 
figure,  the  portrait,  if  you  will,  the  easel  pic- 
ture, owes  its  quality,  it  is  true,  to  the  in- 
dividual ability  of  the  author,  but  take  even 
a  commonplace  figure  and  rejxal    it   in  the 

517 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


decorative  sclieme  of  the  room  and  in  this 
very  repetition  it  gains  vakie.  The 
commonplace  portrait,  uninteresting  per- 
haps by  itself,  when  placed  as  one  of  a  series 
with  proper  decorative  frame  work,  is  a 
thing  of  beauty ;  and  the  easel  picture 
created  to  express  but  one  thought,  one 
idea,  has  no  quality  as  a  decoration ;  but 
place  it  as  one  of  a  series  and  in  that  very 
repetition  it  gains  an  added  interest  and 
becomes  part  of  a  greater  thought  than  the 
specific  subject  which  it  has  been  created 
to  express.  All  these  gain  an  added  quality 
by  being  used  as  parts  of  a  greater  sclieme 
and  this  is  wiiat  is  meant  by  the  value  of 
design. 

In  sculpture  tlie  same  is  true;  the  mon- 
ument isolated  and  apart  from  architec- 
tural surroimdinas.  owes  its  recognition  to 
tlie  individual  ability  of  its  creator ;  but 
when  the  monument  becomes  the  single 
figure  in  the  niche,  and  is  repeated  upon  the 
fac^ade  of  some  great  building,  its  creator 
may  even  be  unknown,  but  its  value  still 
exists  because  of  the  added  quality  of  de- 
sign. The  portrait  bust  in  an  isolated  gar- 
den is  of  but  momentary  interest,  the  ]ior- 
trait  bust,  if  one  of  a  series  in  some  hall  of 
fame  or  some  great  public  building,  assumes 
an  importance  difficult  to  describe  in  words. 
The  sculptor's  work  becomes  an  integral  part 
of  a  greater  wliole  and  assumes  an  adiled 
value  that  can  be  appreciated,  but  which  is 
difficult  to  define.  The  sculptural  grouji 
cmbod_ying  some  great  conception,  arrests 
our  attention  when  seen  in  gallerv.  mu- 
seum or  upon  isolated  pedestal,  but  how 
much  greater  its  effect,  when  it  becomes  one 
of  a  series,  as  in  the  Stations  of  the  Cross  in 
some  cathedral,  how  much  stronger  its  ef- 
fect when  it  is  hut  one  of  a  series  of  cre- 


ations which  are  to  explain  some  greater 
train  of  thought.  The  sculptured  panels  of 
C'hartres  or  Amiens  would  undoubtedly  be 
beautiful, even  if  taken  from  their  surround- 
ings, but  how  much  fuller  is  their  wondrous 
beauty  when  left  side  by  side  in  those  mas- 
sive cathedrals,  each  a  page  in  the  history 
of  religion. 

To  speak  of  the  increased  value  of  archi- 
tecture iiy  the  addition  of  design  would  be 
an  anachronism — for  no  architecture  can 
exist  in  its  higher  form  without  the  finest 
development  of  design.  But  in  these  com- 
mercial days,  when  mere  building  and  con- 
struction masquerade  under  the  name  of 
architecture,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  call 
attention  to  the  fact  that  even  the  simplest 
construction,  the  most  modest  building,  can 
gain  much  i)y  a  true  appreciation  of  that 
valuable  quality,  design. 

And  now  has  this  been  recognized?  Is 
there  any  indication  in  what  is  occurring 
day  by  day  that  these  simple,  fundamental 
truths  are  not  only  appreciated  but  prac- 
tised ."^  In  Europe,  yes;  in  our  great  coun- 
try, which  prides  itself  upon  its  greatness 
and  upon  tlie  rapidity  of  its  advancement, 
most  decidedly  no.  It  is  needless  to  speak 
of  a  European  appreciation  of  these  sim- 
j)le  truths  in  the  past  and  down  to  the  time 
of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renascence,  but 
it  may  not  be  amiss  to  say  a  word  of  the 
latter-day  development.  The  invention  and 
improvement  of  machinery  rendered  useless 
many  of  the  precedents  of  the  past  and 
forced  a  readjustment  of  all  schools  of  de- 
.sign.  At  first,  the  influence  of  the  machine 
was,  to  be  frank,  detrimental,  and  the  me- 
chaiu'cal  or  commercial  article  appeared ; 
l>ut    u  itli    o-reater   knowledo-e   came    o-rcater 


.VIS 


VALUE  OF   DESIGN 


power,  ixiul  wliat  lias  been  accomplislied  in 
the  last  decade  is  but  a  promise  of  wiiat  will 
be  accomplished  in  the  future.  In  1851, 
England,  realizing  the  superiority  of  the 
French  craft  work,  held  the  great  Inter- 
national Exposition  and  by  its  comparative 
collections  endeavored  to  show  its  manufac- 
turers and  craftsmen  what  might  be  accom- 
plished with  intelligent  artistic  effort.  The 
school  of  Morris,  Day  and  Burne-Jones  was 
the  result,  and  English  wall  papers,  textiles, 
woodwork,  metalwork,  faience,  glass,  marble 
and  mosaic  show  their  influence.  The  South 
Kensington  Schools  and  Museum  are  but 
the  outward  symbol  of  how  deep  a  hold  this 
movement  has  taken  of  the  people. 

What  is  true  of  England  is  true  of  all 
European  countries,  but  is  particularly  so 
of  Germany.  The  commercial  supremacy 
of  Germanv  is  due  in  no  small  decree  to  the 
appreciation  of  these  principles.  Her  suc- 
cess may  be  attributed  and  has  been  at- 
tributed to  manj'  causes,  but  careful  anal- 
ysis will  show  that  no  one  has  been  a  greater 
factor  in  this  success  than  the  realization  on 
her  part  of  the  commercial  value  of  design. 
Germany,  after  the  Franco-Prussian  war, 
had  little  or  no  rank  among  the  commercial 
countries  of  the  world,  but  since  that  time, 
with  an  energy  and  perseverance  unprece- 
dented, she  has  developed  her  resources,  until 
she  stands  almost  second  to  none.  Schools 
of  architecture,  painting  and  sculpture 
existed  as  a  matter  of  course,  but  since  1870 
there  have  been  founded  in  every  city,  town, 
and  even  village,  schools  of  handicraft, 
schools  for  painting  on  glass,  schools  for 
the  carving  of  wood  and  the  welding  of 
iron,  schools  for  textiles,  schools  for  instruc- 
tion in  the  manipulation  of  every  medium 


and  of  L\ery  material.  Great  museums 
have  sprung  up  which  contain,  not  only  rep- 
resentative examples  of  the  craft  work  of 
the  past,  but  specimens  of  what  is  being 
done  to-day  b}'  the  craft  workers  of  the 
world  at  large,  and  last  but  not  least,  com- 
mercial museums  and  sample  museums  have 
been  created  which  contain  comparative  ex- 
amples of  all  that  is  being  produced  in  the 
world  at  large  at  the  present  day.  Thus 
not  only  do  the  manufacturer  and  the 
craftsman  receive  the  best  the  schools  can 
give  them,  but  they  have  the  advantage  of 
seeing  without  extensive  travel  what  is  be- 
ing produced  throughout  the  world.  Thus, 
for  example,  Mr.  Ormun,  our  Consul  at 
Stuttgart,  reports  that  "on  one  occasion  a 
commission  sent  by  the  Germans  visited  the 
Orient  and  collected  a  great  many  samples. 
They  were  afterward  exhibited  for  several 
days  in  the  halls  and  corridors  of  the  Im- 
perial Parliament.  They  were  afterward 
sent  to  large  industrial  and  commercial  cen- 
ters and  put  upon  exhibition  for  the  benefit 
of  the  workmen  and  workwomen  who  could 
not  afi^ord  a  trip  to  Berlin.  They  were 
afterward  divided  among  the  sample 
museums, — textile  centers  getting  textiles, 
and  iron  districts  getting  iron  and  steel 
products.  The  sample  museum  is  an  ex- 
cellent auxiliary  of  the  Empire's  industrial, 
industrial-art  and  technical  schools.  While 
it  would  be  hard  to  estimate  their  value  in 
dollars  and  cents,  the  German  merchant  and 
manufacturer  have  come  to  recard  them  as 
a  part  of  the  popular  system  of  education." 
Thus  Germany  has  pushed  to  the  fore, 
until  her  ships  are  found  in  every  port  and 
Hamburg  has  become,  next  to  London, 
I,iverj)ool  and  New  York,  the  most  impor- 
tant commercial   ])lacc  in  the  world.      Not 

519 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


only  do  these  countries  recognize  tlie  value 
of  design  in  erroneously  so-called  com- 
mercial lines,  but  they  recognize  it  in  ways 
which  to  us  are  almost  incomprehensible.  So 
great  a  stress  do  they  lay  upon  the  value  of 
good  architecture,  that  in  many  countries 
prizes  have  been  offered  to  those  private 
owners  who  erect  buildings  of  sufficient 
artistic  merit  to  pass  the  judgment  of  com- 
petent juries,  and  in  some  cases  they  have 
even  gone  farther  by  exempting  these  build- 
ings from  any  and  all  taxes.  Prizes  wifli- 
out  limit  have  been  offered  for  worthy  works 
of  public  art,  both  in  painting  and  sculp- 
ture, and  it  is  a  common  custom  for  govern- 
ments to  puixhase  works  of  distinction  for 
public  jDarks  and  public  buildings,  not  only 
to  please  and  benefit  the  people,  but  to 
recognize  and  to  keep  active  that  art  qual- 
ity which  is  so  essential  to  the  higher  de- 
velopment of  any  nation. 

But  in  a  more  important  field  than  any 
that  has  yet  been  mentioned  have  the  coun- 
tries of  Europe  demonstrated  the  value  of 
design,  and  this  is  in  the  planning  of  cities. 
No  greater  problem  has  ever  faced  the 
world  than  this  ra]>i<l  growth  of  modern 
cities.  No  problem  has  ever  been  of  greater 
importance,  not  only  to  the  social,  but  to 
the  commercial  development  of  a  country. 
It  is  in  the  intelligent  answer  to  this  ]ier- 
pk'xing  question  that  the  countries  of  the 
old  world  have  shown  their  aliility  to  co))C 
w  itii  modern  conditions.  The  walls  of  Paris 
have  been  moved  four  or  five  times,  anfl  at 
the  {)resent  writing,  it  has  been  decided  to 
level  the  fortifications  and  extend  the  area. 
Vienna  has  rejtlaced  its  walls  with  its  noble 
Ringstrassc.  Antwerp  has  replanned  its 
water  front  and  laid  out  vast  sections  for  its 
increased  population.     Hamburg  has  spent 

550  • 


millions  in  creating  the  finest  sj'stem  of 
wharves  and  harbors  that  the  world  has  as 
yet  seen.  Berlin  has  spared  no  expense  to 
perfect  its  transit  and  to  improve  the  out- 
lying section.  Prague  has  re-designed  the 
older  portion  of  the  city,  even  changing  its 
level  some  six  to  eight  feet.  Niirnberg, 
while  retaining  the  old,  is  perfecting  its 
newer  section.  Stuttgart,  Leipsic,  Dresden, 
Hanover, Hildersheim  and  hundreds  of  other 
cities  are  striving  to  tin-  utmost  to  make 
their  facilities  adequate  to  the  demand.  And 
these  are  no  hap-hazard  efforts,  but  efforts 
along  the  lines  of  carefull}^  matured  plans. 
They  represent  all  that  experience  and  abil- 
ity, coupled  with  judicious  expenditure,  can 
produce.  It  would  be  perhaps  going  too 
far  to  state  that  every  effort  has  been  a  suc- 
cess, but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  fail- 
ure, if  there  has  been  failure,  has  been  due 
to  lack  of  forethought,  or  to  lack  of  appre- 
ciation of  the  importance  of  the  issue. 
Such  expenditure  as  has  been  made  will  be 
returned  a  hundred-fold,  and  not  only  Ger- 
many, but  every  country  in  Eui'ope  will 
reap  a  commercial  benefit  therefrom. 

Why  should  our  country  be  so  slow  in 
appreciating  the  commercial  value  of  de- 
sio-ii?  It  is  true  that  at  the  coming  Ex- 
position  at  St.  Louis,  the  arts  and  crafts 
are  to  be  sliown  in  the  Art  Building  and 
have  been  ranked  as  of  equal  value  with 
exhibits  that  heretofore  have  been  consid- 
ered the  finest  art  products.  It  is  true 
that  at  this  same  Exposition  there  is  to 
be  a  model  city,  demonstrating  what  has 
been  done,  or  what  has  been  projected,  in 
many  of  our  large  cities.  It  is  true  that 
Washington  has  been  replanned.  that  St. 
Louis  is  considering  radical  changes,  that 
in    St.    Paul   and   Milwaukee   material   ad- 


\  ALIK   OF    1)KS1(;N 


vances  have  been  made;  but  it  is  also  true 
that  this  work  in  the  main  has  been  done 
by  private  incentive  and  by  private  capital. 
Why  is  it  that  our  governments,  whether 
national,  state  or  city,  do  not  realize  tlic 
commercial  necessity  of  these  improve- 
ments? Why  is  it  that  there  are  no  public 
commercial  museums  or  sample  museums? 
Why  is  it  that  the  schools  throughout  the 
counti'v  at  large  are  lacking  in  classes  and 
appliances  to  give  this  most  necessarj-  edu- 
cation? Certainly  we  do  not  wish  to  be 
considered  less  intelligent  or  progressive 
than  the  older  countries ;  we  do  not  wish 
to  have  said  that  under  republican  forms 
of  government,  less  can  be  accomplished 
that  under  monarchical  government.  We 
certainly  do  not  wish  to  feel  that  Americans 
can  accomplish  less  than  other  nationalities. 
Design  is  but  a  word  to  indicate  the  prac- 
tical application  of  that  potent  force  called 
art ;  design  is  but  a  word  which  in  a  rough 
and  ready  way  defines  the  practical  ap- 
plication of  the  appreciation  of  the  beau- 
tiful. It  is  but  a  medium  througli  which 
we  interpolate  into  our  crafts,  our  manu- 
factures, that  quality  of  imagination,  that 
appreciation  of  form  and  color,  that  knowl- 
edge of  synnnetry,  without  which  no  product 
can  be  other  than  commonplace. 

Is  it  not  time  that  we  should  awake ;  have 
not  the  long  years  of  preparation  passed? 
Are  we  not  ready  for  that  great  movement 
which  is  to  revolutionize  all  that  has  been 
done  before?  Our  statisticians  point  with 
pride  to  our  increased  exports,  but  forget 
that  they  are  in  a  great  measure  due  to  the 
natural  wealth  of  the  country.  They 
forget  that  as  time  passes,  these  natural  re- 
sources must  be  drained  and  that  as  the  work 
of  other  countries  improves,  so  must  the  bal- 


ance of  trade  eviiituallv  turn  against  us. 
Is  it  not  time  for  us  to  appreciate  tiiat  now 
must  be  added  to  our  cottons,  our  silks,  our 
woven  stuffs,  our  wood,  our  metal,  our  stone, 
that  intellectual  effort  which  will  make  each 
ounce  of  raw  material  return  its  maximum 
value?  Is  it  not  time  to  recognize  that  it  is 
no  longer  a  competition  of  quantity  but  of 
quality,  no  longer  a  competition  of  force, 
but  of  skill,  and  that  the  country  which  is 
to  create  the  finest  product  possessing  the 
maxinunn  value  of  design,  must  have  those 
conditions,  social,  educational  and  govern- 
mental, which  will  produce  this  res(dt. 

KUKDKHICK  .S.  I, AMU 

STREET  FURNISHINGS 

THE  thought  of  lighting  cities  was 
long  postponed  through  the  fact 
that  those  who  had  to  see  their  way 
at  nigiit  were  individuals,  not  masses.  Nor 
is  it  strange,  since  every  lamp  required  sep- 
arate care  before  it  could  be  lighted,  that 
when,  at  last,  their  provision  in  the  street 
could  be  conceived  as  a  civic  duty,  lights 
were  still  made  individual  charges. 

The  public  function  of  the  light  was 
slowly  appreciated  better  as  their  number 

multiplied In  Brussels — the  "little 

Paris"  in  so  many  things, — a  prize  offered 
by  L'Oeuvre  Nationale  Beige  early  in  its 
career,  was  for  an  artistic  street  light,  and 
was  awarded  to  the  designer  of  a  single  can- 
delabrum to  stand  on  the  Place  de  la  Mon- 
naic,  where  it  was  subsequently  erected. 

The  terms  of  this  competition,  conducted 
by  a  national  society  organized  for  the  fur- 
thering of  civic  art,  had  invited  the  munici- 
palities to  "designate  those  public  places" 
which  it  was  desired  to  light  artistically. 

Charhg  Mulford  Rohiimon  In  "MoJrni  C'iric  .Irl." 

551 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


A  PLEA  rOR  THE  DECORATIVE 
BOOK-PLATE.  BY  FRANK  CHOU- 
TEAU BROWN 

DESPITE  the  fact  that  we  pride 
ourselves  upon  being  a  commer- 
cial and  unimaginative  people,  a 
little  consideration  will,  I  think, 
prove  tiiat  there  is  a  constant  tendency  of 
our  natures  to  idealize:  to  sj'mholize,  and 
give  a  meaning  to  objects  that,  oftentimes, 
have  of  themselves  no  such  original  intent, — 
the  same  objects  that  may,  upon  other  per- 


sons, produce  an  almost  opposite  effect.  It 
seems  hardly  necessary  to  emphasize  the 
hold  tiiat  symbolism  has  upon  even  the 
Anglo-Saxon  temperament,  but  it  is  an  in- 
heritance whicli  we  cannot  escape.  The 
earliest  and  most  primitive  pagan  races 
erected  symbols  which  they  worshiped  as 
gods :  in  many  cases,  the  same  symbols 
thill     arc    to-dav    most    closely    associated 


with  the  rituals  of  the  Christian  Church. 

We  read  cryptograms  into  Shakespere, 
and  modern  meanings  into  the  simplest  Bible 
stories.  Instead  of  accepting  these  inspired 
writings  in  their  direct  and  obvious  appli- 
cation, and  so  taking  each  one  home  in  the 
way  that  it  most  appeals  to  us,  we  build  up 
cumbrous  and  far-fetched  analogies,  in 
themselves  sufficient  to  smother  the  possible 
inspiration  that  might  have  been  drawn 
from  the  original  source. 

The  book-plate,  then,  responds  to  this 
craving  for  a  personal  symbol :  the  desire 
that  each  individual  experiences  to  possess 
a  "poster"'  all  his  own. 

The  question  "What  is  the  book-plate?" 
is  still  asked  so  frequently  that  perhaps  no 
better  beginning  can  be  made  than  to  offer 
a  definition  of  a  somewhat  vague  term. 
Later,  I  may  venture  to  state  a  few  of  the 
causes  which  have  produced  the  recent  and 
growing  revival  of  interest  in  this  subject. 

A  book-plate,  then,  is  primarily  a  name- 
label,  and,  as  such,  is  used  to  take  the  place 
of  the  owner's  written  name  within  the 
covers  of  his  books.  To  many  persons  this 
statement  will  recall  the  yellowing  paper 
label,  bearing  an  engraved  coat-of-arms, 
pasted  inside  the  covers  of  old  leather  bound 
books  lying  in  their  attics.  Such  a  label  is 
undoubtedly  a  book-plate,  but  a  book-plate 
belonging  to  another  age.  It  is,  at  best,  a 
pedantic  survival,  suggesting  little  of  the 
artistic  possibilities  contained  within  itself. 

The  coat-of-arms  had  at  one  time  a  mean- 
ing and  reason  for  being  which  it  no  longer 
possesses.  During  the  age  of  chivalry, 
gentle  folk  were  distinguished  by  their  coat- 
armor,  and  often  more  readily  recognized  by 
their  heraldic  insignia  than  by  their  family 
names.      In  the  blazoning  borne  upon  the 


THE   BOOK   PLATE 


shield,  or  worn  upon  tin'  trappings  of  the 
kniglit  anil  of  his  horse,  tlic  bearer's  family 
history  was  plainly  written.  Indeed,  it  may 
be  said  that  this  coat-of-arms  took  the  place 


EX^IBRIJ^WIlllAW 


Ali^^RAMJLY 


of  an  individual  name:  to  the  initiate  it  cer- 
tainly fulfilled  its  purpose  better  than  is 
done  b^-  our  modern  written  substitute. 

We  endeavor  to  show  by  a  person's  Chris- 
tian and  middle  names  the  branches  of  the 
families  to  which  he  is  allied,  through  his 
father  and  his  mother ;  but  the  coat-of-arms 
revealed  in  its  quarterings  not  only  this 
much, — and,  furthermore,  in  so  exact  a 
manner  as  to  allow  of  no  possibility  for 
error, — but  also  the  entire  family  an- 
cestry— both  paternal  and  material. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  book,  at 
one  time,  was  a  very  valuable  possession.  It 
was  written  either  wholly  or  in  part  by  hand, 
or  belonged  to  a  small  and  costly  hand- 
printed edition.      Books  were  then  laid  upon 


their  backs  on  inclined  shelves  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  front  cover  was  always  fully 
exposed.  So  the  custom  of  placing  the 
stamped  coat-of-arms  individual  to  its 
owner  upon  the  outside  binding  of  the 
book,  was  established  naturally.  The 
armorial  bearings  were  generally  arranged 
so  as  to  become  a  part  of  the  binding  design, 
and  thus,  as  an  integral  and  con.spicuous 
part  of  the  book,  indicated  the  owner  to  all 
who  might  pass.  If  the  volume  changed 
hands,  its  new  possessor,  before  placing  it  in 
his  library,  had  it  re-bound  in  his  favorite 
manner  and  marked  with  his  own  coat-armor. 
This  custom  was  incidentally  responsible  for 
the  making  of  the  early  printed  books  with 
a  wide  margin  ;  since  this  marginal  space  re- 
quired trimming  or  cutting  down  after  each 
re-binding. 

The  modern  bookcase,  in  which  books 
stand  closely  side  by  side,  with  the  backs 
only  exposed,  is  a  comparatively  recent  in- 
vention. An  invention  partly  made  possible 
iiy   the  cheapl}'  made  and  rapidlj-  printed 


Ui 


00)0, 


;w  eM 


book  and  the  resulting  carelessness  regard- 
ing its  preservation ;  partly  occasioned  by 

5.53 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


the  necessity  for  economizing  space.  Wlien 
books  came  to  be  placed  upriglit  in  cases,  t.lie 
coat-of-arms  was  often  repeated  upon  the 
back ;  or,  more  commonly,  separately  on- 
graved  and  printed  uj)on  a  label,  it  was 
pasted  inside  the  cover.  So,  in  brief,  arose 
the  use  of  coat-armor  for  "book-plates," 
whicli  continued  even  after  heraldry  had  lost 
its  meaning,  and  when,  for  piu'poses  of  iden- 
tification, it  became  necessary  to  add  the 
owner's  name. 

The  armorial  plate  soon  became  filled  with 
errors;  frequently,  a  man's  ])late  was  used 
for  a  woman ;  or  a  son,  merely  changing  the 
name,  borrowed  bodily  his  father's  coat-of- 
arms.  The  engraving  grew  more  and  more 
mechanical,  dry  and  inartistic,  until,  about 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  it 
reached  a  climax  of  mediocrity. 

Meanwhile,  a  historical  interest  was 
slowly  gathering  around  the  book-plate,  or 
"Ex  Libris,"  as  it  was  often  called ;  and 
many  people  began  to  collect  plates  owned 
by  their  friends,  or  family  ;  beside  acquiring 
all  the  older  plates  they  could  find,  borrow  or 
steal.  When,  by  chance,  a  print  belonging 
to  a  person  of  literary  or  historical  fame  was 
foTuid,  it  was  valued  highly  for  its  associa- 
tions.    If.  in  addition,  it  was  lielieved  that 


it  became  still  more  valuable.  Instead  of 
the  label  now  protecting  the  book,  it  was 
found  that  the  book  had  protected  the  label, 


but  few  copies  of  it  existed,  aiad  if  "in  a  good 
state,"  that  is,  well  preserved,  and  printed 
from  a  comparatively  new  and  unworn  plate, 


and  many  a  good  volume  and  nice  binding 
were  despoiled,  in  order  that  some  collector 
might  carry  off  the  plate  pasted  within. 

In  some  countries,  and  in  England  es- 
pecially, the  old  feeling  that  the  only  book- 
plate worthy  of  the  name,  was  one  engraved 
on  and  printed  from  copper,  still  survives ; 
and  in  the  latter  country  any  collector  of 
pretensions  still  imitates  as  closely  as  pos- 
sible— both  in  style  and  matter — the  old 
armorial  book-plate.  As  no  appreciation  or 
comprehension  of  the  meaning  of  heraldic 
forms  and  symbols  now  exists,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  the  design  presents  little 
semblance  of  originality  or  virility.  This 
kind  of  book-plate  is  still  frequently  re- 
produced in  old-fashioned  Book-Plate  Jour- 
nals, and  forms  the  model  for  the  plates  of 
such  American  collectors  as  are  content  to 
borrow  the  ideas  and  copy  the  mannerisms 
of  their  English  compatriots. 

A  distinct  change  in  the  artistic  quality 
of  book-plate  designs  is  very  evident  in  those 
which  have  been  produced  within  the  last  few 
years.  Even  in  more  conservative  and  older 
countries,  the  designed  book-plate  has  been 
given  more  and  more  attention  by  modern 


554 


THE   IK)()K   PLATE 


r-"-'-'-*'-"-^j  'g 


<^;S 


artists  of  i-epute.  Tlie  result  is  that  to-day 
no  more  beautiful  designs  are  executed  in 
any  branch  of  artistic  endeavor  than  some 
of  tliose  made  to  decorate  the  books  in  pri- 
vate libraries. 

In  order  to  explain  the  widespread  and 
sudden  development  of  the  interest  in 
modern  book-jjiatcs,  an  apparent  digression 
is  necessary.  Tlie  position  of  the  ordinary 
book  owner  must  now  be  considered.  It  may 
be  that  he  does  not  possess  the  right  to  use 
coat-armor,  or  that,  disdaining  to  pose  as 
being  better  tlian  his  fellow  men,  he  con- 
sciously gives  up  this  privilege.  Perhaps  he 
regards  the  custom  as  inconsistent  with 
modern  times.  For  some  reason,  per- 
haps only  from  carelessness, 
indifference  or  thoughtless- 
ness, he  has  been  accustomed 
to  write  his  name  within  the 
covers  of  his  books.  People 
there  are  who  have  even  com- 
mitted barbarity  in  scrawling 
their  names  across  the  un- 
offending title  page  ;  near  the  top  or  bottom, 
along  the  side,  or  even  diagonally  across  it ; 
but  such  a  method  of  defacing  one's  own 
property, — so  discourteous  a  treatment  of 
the  friend  of  many  delightful  hours, — is 
most  ungrateful.  Every  one  must  feel  that 
the  written  scrawl  is  out  of  keeping  with  the 
strictly  typographic  character  and  the  more 
or  less  formal  appearance  of  the  printed  vol- 
ume ;  that  it  is  preferable  to  add  to,  ratlicr 
than  to  detract  from,  the  value  of  one's  own 
property.  Beside,  the  tremendous  growth 
in  the  output  of  books  makes  it  difficult  for 
a  person  of  broad  literary  interests  to  spare 
the  time  to  write  out  his  name  within  the 
books  which  he  is  constantly  acquiring. 

And  so  originated  the  printed  label :  at 


first,  it  apjiearcd  «itli  j)ossibly  onlv  the 
name ;  perhaps  tlie  name  and  address ;  or 
again  these  enclosed  in  a  ruled  outline; 
then,  with  a  little  border  of  typographic 
ornaments  repeated  entirely  around  the 
whole.  From  this  point  the  short  step  to  a 
drawn  or  engraved  design  of  similar  simple 
character,  was  one  quicklj-  and  easily  taken. 
The  continual  striving  of  human  nature  for 
something  different,  something  individual 
and  distinctive,  might  alone  be  depended 
upon  to  make  this  slight  advance. 

]\Io(lirii  hook-plates,  such  as  the  examples 
shown,  are  mostly  reproduced  by  the  zinc- 
line  engraving  process:  at  once  the  most 
modern    and   the   most   appropriate,    when 


■>-i.i-;i.<i.i!.t_.-.j-iir  ,H--ii-,iL  jii^i    ,t_:yr-r 


STERLING 

HAIGHT 

BUNNELL 


f  c  boow-j  <t  *e 


used  with  either  the  ordinary  illustrated 
book,  or  with  one  entirely'  lacking  in  illus- 
trations and  of  the  severest  typographical 
plainness.  Beside,  according  to  this  pro- 
cess, designs  are  frequently  etched  or 
engraved  with  very  good  effect;  provided 
that  they  are  tlone  in  a  modern  fashion  and 
without  attempting  to  copy  old  manner- 
isms. Sometimes  they  are  stenciled,  some- 
times-— especial!}'  abroad — the}'  arc  litho- 
graphed, and  often  printed  in  more  than 
one  color,  when  some  quite  exceptional  ef- 
fects have  been  secured. 

So  we  find  a  reason  for  the  designed  book- 
plate which  is  not  only  the  development  of 
a  healthy  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the 
printed  book  itself;  but  also,  a  combination 

5J5 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


of  the  surviva)  ol  tlic  coat-of-arms  book- 
plate, anil  of  tlio  modern  demand  for  a  sub- 
stitute to  meet  the  wants  of  those  not  caring 
for  tlic  armorial  design. 

In  one  or  two  of  my  book-plates,  where  a 
(?oat-of-arnis  was  an  essential  part  of  the 
problem,  the  heraldic  portion — as  in  the 
Brainerd  and  Ramsey  plates — was  made  a 
subservient  and  unimportant  part  of  the 
design ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  a  similar 
treatment    allows    tlic    introduction    of    tiie 


coat-of-arms,  as  an  accessory,  with  suf- 
ficient distinctness  to  satisfy  the  owner;  at 
the  same  time,  it  is  a  plate  that  may  be  as  a 
whole  modern,  pleasing  and  American. 

Wiicn  starting  out  to  secure  a  book-plate 
design,  many  jjeople  make  the  mistake  of 
overburdening  it  with  all  their  family  his- 
tory, or  of  trying  to  express  through  it  the 
manifestations  of  a  widely  varied  life. 
Either  their  ideas  are  too  fully,  if  somewhat 
vaguely,  formed — when  it  is  practically  im- 


possible for  another  individual  to  make  a 
satisfactory  interpretation  of  them  in  pen 
and  ink,  or,  having  no  ideas  at  all,  they  are 
unable  to  make  even  the  few  appropriate 
sussestions  that  will  allow  the  ai'tist  to  in- 
corporate  something  individual  into  the 
design. 

It  is  best  to  strike  a  mean  between  these 
two  extremes.  Then,  the  designer  will  learn 
more  or  less  about  his  client's  individual 
fads  or  fancies,  something  of  his  person- 
ality and  family,  as  well  as  the  kind  of 
books  and  the  things  in  which  he  is  in- 
terested, possibly  his  business  or  occupa- 
tion ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  the  designer, 
for  the  best  result,  should  not  be  too  closely 
restricted. 

The  book-plate  need  not  express  anj'- 
thing  of  the  bookish  quality ; — it  is  not 
absolutely  necessary  that  it  should  show  a 
book,  or  books,  a  library,  or  anything  of 
the  sort.  This  is  an  error  that  seems,  how- 
ever, to  have  acquired  a  very  wide  accept- 
ance, and  is  undoubtedly  a  survival,  even 
though  an  unacknowledged  one,  of  old- 
country  conservatism.  The  plate  itself 
need  not  be  "bookish"  in  subject,  but  it 
must  have  somewhat  of  this  quality  in  its 
treatmrnt,  in  order  to  fit  it  for  its  place  and 
purpose.  The  label  should  express  individ- 
uality, if  only  by  differing  in  some  essential 
from  the  conventional  design,  and  the  de- 
sire for  a  "bookish  plate"  tends  to  restrict 
the  problem  to  too  narrow  and  ordinary  a 
field. 

As  I  have  already  intimated,  the  plate 
ought  not  to  be  too  literal  in  its  expression 
of  the  owner's  tastes  or  tendencies.  In  illus- 
tration, perhaps  the  plate  for  Dr.  Ellis  may 
be  opportunely  cited.  Drawn  for  a  man  of 
scholarly  habits,  interested  especially  in  the 


556 


TllK    HOOK    PLATE 


study  of  tlie  human  eye,  and  having  some 
reputation  in  his  profession  as  a  writer 
upon  kindred  subjects,  the  plate  itself  sug- 


WILLIAM 


KITTi 


gests  this  much  to  one  knowing  the  person- 
ality and  reputation  of  the  owner ;  while  at 
the  same  time,  it  is  not  so  matter-of-fact  but 
tiiat  it  may  possess  a  certain  meaning  and 
significance  to  anyone,  quite  aside  from 
such  a  literal  reading. 

A  satisfactory  design  once  obtained,  its 
location  upon  the  inside  cover  of  the  book 
is  of  considerable  importance  to  its  effect. 
It  must  be  so  placed  that  it  will  compose 
with  the  entire  shape  of  the  page,  in  the  same 
way  that  the  title  page  of  a  printed  volume 
so  composes.  Roughl}',  it  may  be  said  that 
the  two  upper  corners  of  the  book-plate 
should  be  arranged  so  that  the  spaces  left 
above  and  on  each  side  of  the  label  are 
nearly  equal.  This  .should  prove  a  safe 
rulc-of-thumb  which  maj',  on  occasion,  be 
better  honored  in  its  breach  than  in  its  ob- 
servance. 

When  the  end  paper  of  the  volume  is  of 


a  color  or  tone,  the  exact  placing  of  the 
label  becomes  even  more  important.  If,  as 
it  often  happens  nowadaj's,  the  end  papers 
are  decorated,  I  find  myself  unable  to  spoil 
the  intention  of  tiie  bookmaker  by  pasting 
my  individual  label  over  his  carefully  con- 
sidered work ;  then  I  place  it  upon  the  inside 
of  the  fly-leaf,  or  upon  the  loose  sheet  of  the 
end  paper.  I  am  well  aware  that  it  is  then 
much  less  an  integral  part  of  the  book,  but 
the  book  of  to-day  is  ordinarily  of  such 
slight  value  that  it  would  hardly  be  worth 
while  for  anyone  to  tear  out  the  book-plate 
in  order  to  claim  tiie  volume. 

To-day,  many  odd  sha])cs  arc  often  given 
to  the  book-plate  label  itself.  Of  course,  it 
is  appai'cnt  that  the  most  appropriate  and, 
at  the  same  time,  the  most  obvious  form  is 
of  the  same  proportions  as  the  cover  of  the 
book:  a  rectangle  of  about  two-thirds  its 
height  in  width.  Almost  equally  suitable 
however — and  perhaps  preferable  in  fact, 
because  it  is  not  so  common — is  the  sliape 
that  I  have  used  in  my  brother's  plate,  or  in 
my   own.      Other  more   unusual   forms   are 


frequently  employed.  In  one  case,  I  re- 
member, in  order  to  cover  the  name  which 
had  been  written  in  a  more  or  less  triangular 


557 


thp:  craftsman 


sliape  ill  the  upper  left  liand  corner  of  the 
book  cover,  a  triangular  label  was  necessary', 
having  the  toj)  and  left  outside  lines  at  right 
angles  to  each  other,  with  the  diagonal  line 
running  between  and  joining  the  two.  On 
another  occasion,  a  very  wide  plate  of  little 
height  was  made  for  Sterling  H.  Bunnell  to 
conceal  a  very  similar  practice;  in  this  case, 
the  name  being  spread  out  at  considerable 
length  across  the  upper  edge  of  the  cover. 

As  a  cursory  glance  through  these  illus- 
trations will  show,  tlie  outline  of  the  design 
upon  the  label  is  often  even  more  irregular 
and  varied.  The  Walter  Preston  Frye 
plate,  for  instance,  or  that  for  C.  C.  Brown, 
William  Kittredge,  or  Arthur  Farwell. 
gives  an  outline,  varied  from  the  more  con- 
ventional form,  which  is  in  itself  a  pleasing- 
relief.  A  design  for  Fredrika  Jackson  is 
even  more  exceptional.  The  original  of 
this  plate  was  drawn  on  the  inside  cover  of 
a  gift  book  and  occupied  the  onh'  space  left 
within  tiie  cover  not  taken  up  by  the  bind- 
ing :  even  the  two  indentations  in  the  lower 
corners    were    occasioni'd    bv    two    leather 


thongs  projecting  up  into  this  plain  space, 
and  so  the  unusual  shape  was  made  neces- 
sary.    Again,  the  plate  for  William  Allen 

558 


Ramsey,  while  rectangular  in  all  its  parts, 
is  an  attempt  to  obtain  an  effect  of  variety 
without  departing  too  far  from  the  conven- 
tional. 


I  ha\e  generally  found  it  better  not  to 
explain  too  definitely  the  meaning  of  a 
book-plate  design  ;  since  if  the  design  itself 
is  once  satisfactory,  its  possessor  is  left  free 
to  give  it  an  individual  meaning  or  symbol- 
ism of  his  own.  which  renders  it  more  per- 
sonal to  him.  It  also  allows  the  plate  to 
mean  more  to  many  different  persons.  A 
delicate  aura  of  mysterj'  which  is  of  infinite 
suggestive  value,  may  thus  be  allowed  to 
surround  any  symbolic  design  ;  a  mystery 
which,  if  too  closely  defined  and  analyzed,  is 
certain  to  lose  its  original  effect  and  power. 

This  tendency  to  symbolize  is  often  illus- 
trated in  an  amusing  manner.  The  book- 
plate for  Helen  Noel,  for  instance,  was  a 
sketch  made  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and, 


THE    1500K    PLATE 


indeed,  as  tlie  simplest  puii  upon  the  mean- 
ing of  the  family  name.  The  conventional 
attributes  of  Ciiristnias  were  em])loyed:  tlic 


tree  decorated  with  its  Christmas  candles, 
the  Star  of  Bethlehem,  etc.  Yet  wliat  was 
my  amazement  to  hear  a  very  A'oung  girl 
(she  came  from  Hartford,  it  is  true)  tell 
how  the  plate  had  appealed  to  lier. — the 
Tree  of  Life,  tlie  Lamps  of  Learning,  the 
Star  of  Eternity, — until  I  felt  almost 
ashamed  of  the  flippant  spirit  in  which  I 
ul  conceived  the  design. 
The  significance  of  my  own  plate  I  am 
not  disposed  to  explain.  It  does  mean  a 
great  deal  to  me :  it  pleases  for  several  rea 
sons, — some  sufficiently  ab.stract  to  be  read- 
ily defined,  others  so  entirely  persona!  that 
it  is  unnecessary  and  would  probably  be 
most  uninteresting  to  analyze  at  length. 
For  one  thing,  in  furtherance  of  a  feeling 
that  I  have  always  had  that  the  design  itself 
should  be  a  sufficiently  striking  expression 
of  individuality,  I  was  able  to  reduce  the 
lettering  almost  to  non-existence.  I  have 
employed  a  more  or  less  meaningless  plant- 
growth  in  the  borders,  solely  to  blend  the 
design  back  into  the  setting  of  its  white 
background.  The  fleurs-de-lis,  introduced 
where  they  break  and  relieve  the  interweav- 


ing lines  of  this  border,  I  use  in  a  more  arbi- 
trary form  with  my  signature,  generally 
separating  the  date  into  two  portions.  The 
motif  of  the  design  itself,  if  I  were  com- 
pelled to  put  it  into  words,  would  be  some- 
thing to  the  effect  that  among  one's  books 
one  may  at  least  lay  aside  the  mask  that  all, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  wear  in  the 
presence  of  other  people.  The  two  discs  in 
tlie  border  are  left  for  the  insertion  of  tlie 
dates  of  the  purchase  and  the  reading  of  the 
volume. 

In  general,  I  find  that  my  own  tendency 
is  toward  producing,  year  after  year,  less 
formal  and  less  elaborate  designs.  It  may  be 
that  this  is  in  part  only  a  n;itural  reaction, 
as  a  relief  from  the  more  mechanical  archi- 
tectural work  which  constitutes  my  usual 
routine  ;  but  yet  the  feeling  toward  a  simple, 
free,  and  mori'  informal  design,  providing, 
of  course,  that  it  is  not  of  a  nature  easily  to 
become  tiresome,  grows  each  year  more  and 
more    evident.      Especially    I    have    found 


that  the  plate  for  the  child  or  the  girl  offers, 
indeed,  demands,  just  this  freedom  of  treat- 
ment.     The    little    designs    for    Itha    May 

5S9 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Lenox.  Harrott  H.  Russell.  Frcdrika  Jack- 
son, and  Paul  Hartlett  Brown,  contain 
something  of  this  quality  :   uhile  the  sim- 


plicity and  unity  of  idea  eyidenccd  in  the 
William  Kittiedge  and  Frederick  Ellis 
plates,  for  instance,  should  he  a  large  factor 
in  their  lasting  quality.  The  C'ushman 
plate  contains  more  of  what  we  are  j)leased 
to  call  the  "hookish  favor;"  while  the  plate 
for  Arthur  Farwell  may  be  offered  as  an 
example  of  the  blending  of  conservatism  of 
idea  with  niniii'rnitv  of  deyoloj>ment  and 
treatment. 

Often  JUi  informal,  otf-hand  sketch,  such 
as  tiic  Noel  or  the  Norris  j)]ate,  will  be  more 
instantly  jjleasing  than  a  more  studied  and 
labored  effect,  and,  provided  tliat  it  retain 
balance  and  reserve  of  composition,  there  is 
no  reason  th;it  it  should  not  possess  a  lasting 
quality  as  well.  The  Plant  design  suggests 
something  more  than  the  })rofession  of  its 
owner  (th.it  of  an  architect);  while  the 
Charles  Albert  law-plate  has  a  more  literal 
meaning,  as  may  be  also  said  of  the  Ihinnell 
design.  It  hardly  needs  to  be  add<'d  th;it 
llie  owner  of  tli<'  latter  is  ;i  mechanical  <'ngi- 
neer.      Two  actors'   ])lates  are   those  shown 

r,60 


for  Mr.  Belknap  and  Mr.  Kittredge;  while 
two  plates  for  musicians  are  the  designs  for 
]\Ir.  Loomis  a:nd  Arthur  Farwell ;  the  rather 
more  serious  and  scholarly 
feeling  in  the  last  suggesting 
the  broad  aims  of  its  owner. 

Personally,  the  historical 
quality  of  a  plate  makes  little 
appeal  to  me ;  ray  pleasure 
depending  solely  upon  its 
artistic  value  as  a  design,  or, 
perhaps,  I  should  more  exact- 
ly say,  as  a  decoration.  It 
must  never  be  forgotten  that 
the  plate  is  intended  to  be- 
come a  part  of  the  book,  and 
that  it  reaches  its  true  test, 
when  sliown  in  place  inside  the  book-cover, 
and  not  in  the  detached  manner  of  these 
illustrations. 

So  we  find  that  the  book-plate,  as  I  stated 
at  the  beginning  of  this  article,  is  nothing 


more  or  less  than  a  label.  Often  the  name- 
label,  pure  and  simple,  will  make  the  most 
successful  book-plate.      As  an  instance,  let 


THE    1K)C)K    PLATE 


me  cite  tin.'  simple  book-plate  made  some 
years  ago  for  my  brother,  Paul  Bartlott 
Brown.  This  small  design  contains  noth- 
inar  but  the  name,  enclosed  within  an  unob- 
trusive  border  of  Renascence  design.  There 
is  little  "personality"  suggested,  and  its 
'"individualit}-"  rests  in  the  character  of  the 
ornament  and  the  letter-forms  alone.  The 
one  suggestion  of  "personality" — the  birth 
month  of  the  owner,  indicated  by  the  rani's 
head — is  a  very  subordinate  part  of  the 
decoration,  and  one  which   is   absolutely  a 


development  of  the  design  itself.  This 
treatment  is  a  contrast  to  the  display  of  tiie 
entire  famih'  histor}',  which  does  much  to 
mar  the  decorative  book-plate. 

Again,  and  finally,  the  only  excuse  and 
reason  for  being  that  we  can  give  to  the 
modern  book-plate  is  its  decorative  quality. 
It  must  be  so  designed  that  it  will  become  an 
appropriate  part  of  any  book.  It  is  rarely 
indeed  that  any  drawn  design  is  seen  so  fre- 
quently as  the  book-plate  must  be,  b}'  the 
person  possessing  it,  and  it  must  be  so  care- 


fully considered  that  it  will  meet  the  test  of 
constant  us.."  and  never  become  tiresome. 
So,  at  the  end,  wc  discover  that  tiie  book- 


plate is,  after  all.  but  the  outcome  of  the 
desire  of  the  individual  to  possess  an  attrac- 
tive symbol,- — something  that  is  personal  to 


THE  TOME  of] 


ICHARLESjALBEKT 


liim  in  its  meaning;  and  tiiat  the  revival  of 
interest  in  the  "Ex  Liijris"  is  but  another 
instance    of    the    awakening    consideration 

5(>1 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


given  \)\  the  people  cf  the  present  day  to 
good  printing,  to  tlie  decoratir/n  of  houses, 
the    designing    of    furniture, — the    general 


A  STUDY  IN  EVOLUTION 


art-crafts, — tlic  improvements  and  advance 
in  city  arrangement  and  arcliitecture ;  in 
short,  that  lirciad  movement  in  tlio  arts  that 
has    distinguished    tlie    bco-inning;    of    tiiis 


rilNGION-f 

cenlury,  and  wliich  may  be  regarded  as  the 
first  evidences  of  an  artistic  renascence  too 
long  delayed. 

502 


H 


E  who  first  shortened  the  labor  of 
copyists  by  device  of  movable  types 
Avas  disbanding  hired  armies,  and 
cashiering  most  kings  and  senates,  and 
creating  a  whole  new  democratic  world:  he 
had  invented  the  art  of  printing.  The 
first  ground  handful  of  nitre,  sulphur  and 
cliarcoal  drove  monk  Schwartz's  pestle 
through  tlie  ceiling:  what  will  the  last  do.'' 
Achieve  the  final  undisputed  prostration  of 
force  under  thought,  of  animal  courage  un- 
der spiritual.  A  simple  invention  it  was  in 
the  old-world  grazier, — sick  of  lugging  his 
slow  ox  about  the  country  till  he  got  it  bar- 
tered for  corn  or  oil, — to  take  a  piece  of 
leather,  and  thereon  scratch  or  stamp  the 
mere  figure  of  an  ox  (or  pecus),  put  it  in 
his  pocket,  and  call  it  pecunla,  money.  Yet 
herebjr  did  barter  grow  sale,  the  leather 
money  is  now  golden  and  ji-'ipci'i  and  all 
miracles  have  been  out-miracled :  for  there 
are  Rothschilds  and  English  national  debts; 
wlioso  has  sixpence  is  sovereign  to  the 
length  of  sixpence  over  all  men  ;  commands 
cooks  to  feed  him,  philosophers  to  teach  him, 
kings  to  mount  guard  over  him, — to  the 
length  of  sixpence.  .  .  Clothes,  too,  which 
began  in  the  foolishest  love  of  ornament, 
what  have  they  not  become !  Increased 
security  and  pleasurable  heat  soon  followed, 
but  what  of  these?  .  .  .  Clothes  gave  us 
individuality,  distinction,  social  polity ; 
clothes  have  made  men  of  us ;  they  are 
threatening  to  make  clothes-screens  of  us. 
.  .  .  Neither  in  tailoring  nor  in  legislating 
lioes  man  proceed  by  mere  accident,  but  the 
hand  is  ever  guided  on  by  mysterious  opera- 
tions of  the  mind. 

ThoiittiH  Ctffli/lf,  In  *'Sitr/'>r  RiKdr/it.f.'* 


THE    INSECT    I\  1)E(()1{  ATIOX 

I'lll'.  INSIH  '1'  IN   Dl'AOKA  ri()\.       I!V  stri(l((l  iniiiil).!-  of  >i)(ci.s:  from  tin-  oniss- 

.M.        l'.-\KRM:riL.         TKANSLATKl)  Ii..[)|h  r.  In.in  tin- <lia<;<)ii-tiv.  and.  aljovc  all, 

FKO.M     TIIK     IIJI'.NCII      U\      I1{I;NK  from  butt. rHi.s.      For,  to  the  tkrorator.  the 

SAK(il'.N'r  iiixct   world   is   uMially   rc])rtsciilc(l  hv   tlh' 

hilttrrtlv     >})rcu>.       Tins    coiicci)!  ion     i-    an 

Till'",  arti-t   is  surrounded  hv  themes  error,    and    the    decoratixe    artists    who    are 

(it     for    treatment,    hut    if    certain  sehjeet  to  it.  uould  he  nreallv  surj)rise(l,  if 

suhjects  atti-aet  tile  decorator,  such  thev  looked  ahoul  them,  if  tluv  souf^'ht  witll 

as    those    oH'ered    hv    the    world    of  enthusiasm  and  lo\c  the  inexhausf  ihle,  eter- 

plauts,  others  seem  to  he  almost  i^'}iored  hv  nal   soui'ce  of   inspiration   ^^hich   lies   in   \a- 

liiin.      Among-  this   number   is   included   the  tore.      What     eloseU     ke])t     mai-veK    \^oul(l 

world  of  insects.  they  disi'dxcr,  what   virgin  I'iches  I 

Indi\idual     artists     have,     indeed,     fallen  Let    us    quote    tVoni    .Mielu'let.    who    said: 


anil  lyifii^  iMi  iijick.     ,M.  Benedietus 

under  till'  fascination  of  these  forms  of  life,  "■The    arts    |)ro|)er.    tiiat     is,    thi'    line    .arts, 

varviiif^  from  frail  to  roliust,  and  showing;-  would    profit    still    more    than    industry,    i)V 

scliemes   of  color   ji'raded   from   the  delicate  the   study   of    insec-ts.      The   froldsiiiith,   the 

to  tlu-  brdliant,       l{ut   scarcelv   ha\c-  the  in-  lapid.arv  will  do  well  to  seek  from  this  ri'.alm 

finite  resources  wliicli  the  study  of  the  insect  of     Nature    modils    and    lessons.      'I'he    soft 

niij^lit  offer  to  decorative  art   been   touched  insects,   like  flies,  ha\i',   in   tlieir  eyes,  esjic- 

belo\v  tlieir  surface.  cially  iiia<rical  rainbow  effects  witli  which  no 

A  moment  sinci',  we  alluded  to  those  who  case  of  jeuels,  hi>«exer  rich,  can  bear  com- 

liave  ah'eadv  f^iven  attention  to  this  study.  ])arison.     There  are  alw.i\s,  if  we  pass  from 

We  can  further  jioint  to  the  haj)py  results  one  si)ecies  to  another,  and,  if  I  mistake  not, 

wliicli  tlicy  liave  obtained   from  a  very   re-  there  are   ,ilso   ainoiif;-  different    individuals 

j(>3 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


ot  tile  >.unr  >|i((.'it'>,  lieu  C()iiiliinah<iiis  to 
I'ffdril.  \\'i'  iil)--cr\c  tliat  t\'\v>  \\\t\\  lirilli.-int 
Wllli^N  (Id  liiit  :iluav>  possess  tlir  most  huau- 
tit'iil  I'vc's.      l-'(ir  cxaiiipli'.  tile  liorsL-tlv,  dull 


L..r,ivt  liiK-kIr      M.  l;,-rir,li,-tns 

'^v:i\  ami  iliist-likc  III  color,  oilioiis  of  as- 
j)L'ct.  t'oediiio'  only  ii|>oii  warm  blood,  has 
eyes  whicii.  undi  r  the  iiia^iiit'viiio-  lens,  offer 
the  strailf^'e,  ma;;ic-al  effects  of  a  mosaic  of 
])recious  stones,  siicli  as  the  consummate  art 
of  l''romeiit-,Meurice  could  scarcely  have 
coiiiliiiii'd." 

'I'hus  IMicheK't  expressed  himself  in  ISoT. 
in  Ins  tiiii'  wdrk  upon  the  insect.  With 
"hat  eiithusisin  and  love  lie  there  describes 
the  unexpected  invstei'ies  which  were  then 
re\ealed   td  liim. 

■■'I'lie  inavhii^'.  ci'udel\-  sha])ed,  ])rosaic 
at  Hrst  sio-ht,  pruniises  little.  \e\erthe- 
less.  its  scalv  \\  iiii;'.  examined  i!iid(;r  the 
microscope,  \wll  lighted  beneath  the  small 
mirror,  and  tliii^  -eeii  in  t  ranspareiicv.  ])re- 
sents  the  texture  of  .a  rich  winter  fabric  of 


a  dead  leaf  hue.  through  wjiicli  veins  of  a 
heantitiil  d.iik  liroxvn  winil  in  sei'pentine 
lines.  At  ni;;lif.  it  is  .all  citliei-\\  ise :  there 
i^  no  inoi-e  hroun.  for  the  \(llou  jiortioii  of 
the  shell  lia>  becoine  predoniin.ant  ;  b\  l.anip- 
liylit  only  it  becomes  like  i;i)|d  {nnuortliv 
coniparisdii  ),  sti-.anw-e.  ni.an'ic.d.  he.avenlv 
H'dld,  such  a^  diie  iiii.an'iues  for  the  walls  of 
the  eelesti.al  .leriis.aleiii.  .and  for  the  n'arineut 
of  hdlit  win-ii  b\'  the  spirits  in  the  presence 
of  (iod.  'I'liis  d-,,l,|  is  -.iiiili^hl  M)fter  than 
th.it  \vhieli  proceeds  from  the  re.al  siiii.  It 
cli.arnis  .and  tdiiche^  the  heart  in  .an  inde- 
lin.ible  u  ,a  \  . 

■'It  IS  a  str.aiij;e  illusion.  And  \\  h,it  thing's 
li.iM  I  s.aid.'  This  festix.al  of  lidjit  jjro- 
ceeded  troiii  the  \vini;'  of  .a  comnion   insect." 

'I'd  knd\\  hdu  td  see.  td  underst.and  Na- 
ture, this  is  till'  uiidle  srta'et.  In  ld\ing'  it 
"itli  deep  teeliiio-,  m  ex.aiiiinind-  its  most 
niinuti-  .and  insignificant  productions,  the 
artist  g.ains  his  rich  reward  of  ])ure  })lea- 
siire.  'J'lie  entire  i'haj)ter  cf  Michelet  upon 
the  renewal  of  the  ai'ts  thrduj.'li  the  study  of 
insect-life,  might  be  cpidted  he 'e  with  profit. 
]5ut  we  shall  limit  our  extraits  to  a  few 
pas.sages. 

"In  insi'cts.  beauty  abounds  without  and 
within.  It  is  in  no  wise  necessary  to  searcli 
f.ar  in  order  to  find  it.  I,et  us  ex.amint'  an 
ordin.iry  insect.  sj>ecimens  of  which  I  con- 
stantly find  in  the  s.and  .it  I'dntaine!iieau. 
in  sun-lighted  -.pots.  This  is  the  i)ri.liant 
(■'uukIi'Ih,  which  must  be  handled  with  ire- 
caution,  since  it  is  \mII  .armed.  ^  cry  ])le,is- 
ing  to  the  n.aked  eye,  it  apjie.ars  under  tlie 
nucroscope  .as  perli;i])s  the  richest  object 
that  can  lie  studied  by  art.  .  .  .  T'pon  its 
wing-  there  is  .a  \,ai-ied  design  of  peacock  s 
eve-.  ()ii  the  cm'-elet.  flire.ul-like  line-, 
divei'seh    ,ind   liyhth    knotteil,   winil   o\er  a 


jiU 


TIIK    INSECT    IN    1  )Kc  ()l{  A'l'lOX 


<lark  li,u-k^nniii(l.  Tlir  uiiilir  >iirt';u'c  and 
tliu  k'f>s  arc  brilliaiitlv  g-lazid  wltli  tones  so 
rirli  that  no  cnaniol  could  support  compari- 
son witli  tlicni:  tlio  eye  itself  can  scarcely 
endure  tiieir  \i\id  o'low.  Stranj^'e  it  is  that 
ni'ar  the  enamels  one  finds  the  dull  tones  of 
the  l)looni  and  of  the  \vin<rs  of  the  buttertlv. 
'1\>  all  these  diverse  elements  there  are  added 
touches  of  what  one  miw-hl  helieve  to  he 
Innnan  art,-  touches  in  the  Oriental  styles 
— Persian,  Turkish.  Indian,  as  in  old  tex- 
tile--, ill  which  the  c()lor>.  >liy-htlv  faded. 
ha\e  accjuired.  so  to  >|)eak.  adiiiirable  base 
notcN  :  their  harmonx'  having;'  been  li'raduallv 
subdued  by  the  soft  hand  of  time. 

■"I-'rankly  ■-pi'akin^-,  uliat  is  --imilar.  what 
is  comparable  even  to  a  deirree  with  these, 
amon>i'  the  expres>ioii>  of  our  arts?  T,an- 
^•ui.>hin<>;  as  thev  arc.  lio»  tliorouo-hlv  could 
they  refresh  them>cl\es  at  these  livini;- 
sources  ! 

■■l'>uall\'.  instead  ot'  having-  direct  re- 
course to  Nature,  that  ineKliaustible  foun- 
tain of  beauty  and  originality,  they  liavo 
made  a})peal  to  the  arts  of  former  times,  to 
the  jiast  of  man." 

Doe-,  not  this  (|iioti(l  passage,  written 
fifty  viars  since,  by  the  (j-reat  author  who 
stiulied  so  sympathetically  the  Bird  and  the 
Insect,  define,  with  ))erfcct  comprehension, 
the  state  and  the  needs  of  decorative  art.' 
Let  us  recognize,  however,  that  we  iiave 
madi-  j)rogress  since  that  time.  Decorative 
art  has  rejected,  or,  at  least,  has  begun  to 
reject  copies  and  constant  repetitions.  Hut 
a  long  way  yet  remains  to  be  pursued.  Art- 
ists have  returiu'fl  to  Nature,  but  wl.at  un- 
explored riches  remain,  which  would  allow 
them  to  renew  and  to  v;iry  coiif  inuidlv  the 
soui'cis  of  inspiration  1 

.\gaiii,     ^lichelet     writes:      "Sliould     we 


copy:  My  no  means.  'I'hese  small  crea- 
tures, owing  to  the  f.ict  llial  they  are  alive 
and  ill  their  mating  attire,  possess  a  grace, 
and  are  surrounded  by  an  aureola  which  can 
not  lie  translated  into  art.  We  niiisl  lovu 
tliciii,  gain  inspiration  from  them,  deri\e 
troiii  them  luw  iridescences  and  new  ar- 
I'angeiiieiits  of  color.  So  (  r;insforme<l.  they 
uill  b.'.  not  as  they  .■ippear  in  Nature,  but 
fantastic  and  iiiar\elous,  sech  as  they  are 
seen  by  the  child  who.  in  his  dreams,  pursues 
them,  or  by  the  young  girl  who  longs  for 
beautiful    onianieiits." 

Such    is    ,Miclu-lefs    magic    call    from    a 
uorld  too  little  known  to  artists.      May  it 


Lunist  coml).  rxcciitiMl   in  lnu-ii.     .M.  Hi-TM'ili.-tiis 

iiispiii-  certain  among  them  with  the  desire 
to  see  and  the  will  to  know! 

'i'bis  woi'ld  He  do  not  undertake  to  reveal, 
for   that    would   In-  an   overwlielininii   labor. 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 

\Vr   lia\r  iwcilvcd  Niniplv   to   indicate  a   tVw  In    tlu■^(•    unuMial    tli(>ii,i;lit>    and    »(irds. 

of  it-,  rcsoui-fcs;  otIuTs.  \\r  li()}n'.  l)y  adxanr-  Aliclirkt    picliiro    tlic    uoi'ld    of    iiiMct-.    an 

ini;-    dti'plv     into    the    sulijct-t.     uill    drri\r  unknown   and   nly^t^'l■iou^   realm, 

tlierefroin    \alnal)le    knowledj^e.    wlncli    lliev  In   tiaitli,   what   do   we   know   of  itr      'I'lic 

niav   UM'  to  the   |ii-olit    of  ilei'oratixe  art.  to  only     rein-esentati\  e>    that    oui'    i'arele>sness 

the  fiirtherant-e  of  it--   remual   in   form  and  allow  >  u>  to  jien-eive  are  huttertlio,  drai^'on- 

|,;,|.|,i,,ii\  .  tlie>.  hees  and   tlie^.      ^^'ithont   donlit.    these 


Stii.ix    <.r  lirr.-iili-^   111'.  lie;   alitri'ii.r  view:   liytr.-i    |-:iisc'cl.  al|..v\iiii;   tln'   win:.'^   t"  1" 

sliuwin^'  .■irliriilHtiiiii,     M.  |-'.i'iic(liclii^ 


iil.-u-LT,]   I.- 


••'I"hei-e    is    a    world    lieneath    our    \wirld.  speeies     ari'     anioni;'     the     most     niterestm^' 

al)o\e   it.   within   It.  all  ai'ound   it.   whieh   \\v  selected    from    the    innunieral)le    families   ot 

d it    suspect.       lanhtlv.    i^entlv.    at    cer-  N.ature.      Others     exist     which     we     do     not 

tain  moiiK  nts.  we  he.-ir  it  nuinnur  or  rustle.  know,    which    we    shall    ne\ci-    know,    unless, 

and  thill  xiesav:    "That  is  something  iiisio--  indetd.    im|ielled   hy    our    lo\e   of   study,   we 

niticani  ;  th.at   is   nothinn-."       Hut   th.at   noth-  devote    oursehcs    to    examine    them    .and    to 

iii.r   is   the   iiitiiiite."  "  invcstioate  niiiiuteh'   their   fo|-ms   .and   their 


TIIK    IXSFAT    IX     I)IA()1{.\  i'lOX 


lial)it>.  Tlioc  ;iro  researches  attrai-ti\e  in 
the  l)i<jhest  degree  to  botli  the  artist  and  tlie 
man  of  science.  But  the  first  stej)  liere,  as 
always,  is  tlie  most  (Htlicult  and  tlie  one 
wliich  costs. 

Let  us  therefore  niai<e  it  toiretlicr. 
Tlie  world  of  insects  is  almost  limitless, 
whether  one  considers  the  number  of  its 
<lifFerent  families,  or  the  nmltitude  of  its 
individuals.  In  enterin<>'  it,  it  is  well  to  he 
provided  with  a  scientific  detinition  of  the 
form  of  life  to  he  studied. 

According  to  such  detinition  an  insect  is 
an  animal  whose  hornv  skin  constitutes  an 
exterior  skeleton,  and  which  is,  consetjueiit- 
ly.  devoid  of  an  interior  skeleton.  It  has  a 
symmetrical  hodv,  and  is 
armed  with  three  pairs  of  legs 
and  articidated  appendices. 
The  last  named  attributes  dis- 
tinguish them  from  the  ci-us- 
taceans  with  which  they  have 
several  characteristics  in  com- 
mon. 

Everywhere  in.sccts  exist : 
in  air  and  in  water,  upon  the  surface  of  the 
earth  and  bi'iieath  it.  'I'heir  legions  are 
without  number,  and  ci  rtain  species  of  them 
I'ender  most  valuable  services  to  ni.in. 
Others,  on  the  I'ontrary,  ari'  noxious  to  him. 
As  to  their  external  forms,  they  are  some- 
times remarkable,  often  strange,  and  always 
interesting.  Michelet  describes  them  well 
when  he  says:  "The  arsi^nal  of  singular 
weaj)ons  borne  usually  l)y  the  insect  .seems 
a  menace  to  the  human  being.  Living  in  a 
world  of  warfare,  the  insect  has  been  armed 
at  all  jjoints.  The  species  native  to  the 
trojjics  are  f(n'midable  in  appearance.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  majority  of  the  weajjons 
which  affright  us:  |)incers,  tentacles,  saws. 


spits,  augers  (tcirhnu').  ]>robosces,  blades 
and  saw-teeth.  all  tlu'se  arms  of  aggres- 
sion with  wliich  they  .ippear  like  old  sol- 
diers going  to  war,  prove  often,  after  ex- 
amination, to  be  peaceful  imjilements  which 
aid  them  to  gain  a  livelihood.  Thev  ai-e 
the  tools  of  their  trade." 

Hard  labor  is.  in  i-eality,  often  ini])osed 
upon  them.  In  (U-dei-  to  construct  tlu-ir 
dueliing-places  or  the  cradles  in  uliich  the 
eggs  of  the  mother-insects  are  laid,  im- 
mense effort  is  necessary,  and  the  resulting 
constructix'e  works  overwhelm  the  mind  of 
the  spectator  by  the  perfection  and  ^ureness 
of  the  means  employed  and  the  extjuisite 
-kill     displ;iyed.       To     fol-.-iye     the     hardest 


.M;iT,tlr  rhiS'  1"  .hill   l,..rn      M.  r„-n.-.li.-tii> 

woods  and  the  most  exhausted  lands;  to 
grind  and  mix  plaster;  to  rear  lofty  jialaces 
or  to  burrow  immense  subterr.uiean  cham- 
bers: such  labors  seem  to  be  merely  child's 
play  for  these  frail  organisms,  which  com- 
pensate for  their  weakness  by  the  Jjerfec- 
tion  of  their  tools  and  bv  their  pirsistoiicv 
in  the  pursuit  of  their  tasks. 

TIk-  sMigular  apjxarance  of  niseets  re- 
sults not  onl\  troni  tln'  tools  and  .-icce-sories 
with  which  tlii'V  bristle,  but  also  from  the 
immobility  of  their  countenances,  from  the 
absence  of  .ill  expression  in  their  faces. 
They  are  knights  clolln-d  in  .irmoi'.  with 
their  visors  |)er|)etually  lowered.  Hut  thev 
are  knights  who  ha\e  arraved  themselves  in 

5ti7 


THE    CU  AITS  MAN 

tlirir  iiu»t  >plrn.li(l   s(-tiiRnt>.      Nothincr  is  Hut  all  i->  >tr;ni<;-e  in  the  in-x-t.  and  the  eyes 

tn,i  lirautifiil  for  them;  vrlvct  and  >ilk.  pru-  are   not    e\rin])t    from    the    jinvaiHng   rule, 

(•ion-  stones  and   rare  inetaK.  superl)  enani-  'i'here   are   not    >ini)il_v   two   eyes:  there  are 

els.  laees,  hroeadi's.  are  la\ishly  useil  in  their  thousands     of     eyes     united     in    proeniinent 

oarinents.       Knieralds.     rnliies     and     pearh,  inassrs    uhieh   are   eut    in   hexagonal   facets. 

n„l,|.    dull    and    hurnished.    polished    siher.  'I'lius   the   insect,   without    iiioving.   ean   cm- 

niother-of-pearl    nungle.   chord,   nv   contrast  hrace  the   \\hole  horizon.      The  crustaceans 

with   one  anothei-.      They   create  the   sweet-  liav.-.      indeed.     niovaliK'     eyes,     articulated 

^..^t    hai- nies    and    the    most    daring   disso-  upon  a  peduncle,  and  caj)ahle  of  t\irning  in 


Stu.ly  .il    til.-  st^iL'-lii'tli'   \u,-,.,\  upcM   -1111-11. iVMi---      M.  .Murlia 

nances.     What  lessons  do  they  not  afford  an  all  directions;  hut   how    much   more  conven- 

.itteiitixe  cohn-ist  I  ient  and  ser\  iceahle  is  the  eye  of  the  insect 

The  ir  helmets  are  surmounted  with  singu-  which  sees  everywhere  at  once'  How  Hi- 
lar plumes:  the  (iiitiiiiKir.  These  are  organs  compreliensihie  a))pears  tlu'  «ork  of  Nature, 
whose  functions  :u-e  as  vet  undetermined  which  gives  two  eyes  to  the  human  heillg. 
.and  uhich  assiune  the  most  diverse  forms:  eight  thousami  to  the  mayliug.  and  fifteen 
a)ipearing  in  filaments  or  scales,  in  comhs  thousand  to  certain  other  species  I 
or  mac.-like  cluhs,  or  yet  in  silky  tufts.  But  the  most  interesting  ohserv.ation  to 
Here  also  Nature  has  given  free  course  to  he  made  upon  insects  concerns  then-  succes- 
her  f.aru'N.  si\e  trairsfoi'mations. 

Near   the   niitriniiir   the   eyes   are   placed.  Animals,   for  the  most   ]iart.  are  horn   ui 


Tin:  iNSKc  r  i\   dfa oijatiox 

flu' I'oriii  wliic'li.  « itii  nioiliticMlioii^.  thov  are  Anioiii;'    iitlur    Npccic^.    Ilii'    cliaii^-c    is    not 

to     retain     tlir(>ui;'lu)nt     tlii'ir     life.      Thov  uhi)ll\    .ui-oinpli^lird    ,uiil    tlie    later    phases 

yr<)« .    thev    clianni'    >li^']iHv.    hut    iiothiiii;'  are  less  ilissiiniiar  from  those  preseiilecl  hv 

more.  the  insect  in  the  first  ))erio(l  of  its  existence. 

It   is  (juite  (litfereiit   with  the  insect.       In  Hut  thi^  is  not  tlie  jiiace  to  offer  a  course 

order  to  arrive  at  it>  ultimate  from,  several  in    natural    hi-tor\.      Nr\crtheless,    it    was 

transforniations,    several    existences,    so    to  relevant  to  our  })urpose  to  <K'fine  an  insect, 

.speak,  ;ire  necessary  to  it,  and  thence  results  althoufrh  we  have  used  elementary  and  iion- 


the  material  (or  that   most  attractive  study  sclentilic   tcnii--.       Hul.   as   wc   have  .ili'eady 

of  metamorphosis.  said,   the   world   of   insects   is   innnense,  and 

Tlu'se  transformations  are  in  reality  most  the  families  divided  into  similar  species  are 

radical.      For  example,  the  lif^ht  and  bril-  innumerable.      It  now  becomes  necessary  to 

liant  butterfly,  graceful  in  fli<rht,  glowing  speak  liriefly  of  the  classification  of  insects, 

in  color,  begins  hi.s  life  groveling  upon  the  These  forms  of  life  have  been  arranged 

.soil,  in  the  state  of  the  repulsive  caterpillar.  in    seven    distinct    ortlers    or    groups,    eaoli 

In  thi>  ca^e,  the  metamorphosis  is  complete,  possessing   very   distinctive  characteristics: 

5iin 


rHK    C  RAFTSMAN 

Hic  ((lUiijitcrd.  till'  (irtliii/iti  ni.  the  luinip-  ^cnlx-d.  'I'lirv  have  two  pail'--  of  wind's, 
/(•;•((,  the  lutiidjit,  1(1,  llic  li  //iin  iidiitirii,  Ww  and  Dt'tcn,  altliouyli  not  aluav^,  tlic  upper 
l(/iiil<>/if<rii.  ami  tlic  tl'i iit(T(i.  pair  arc  of  lioniv  sul)>taiK'o.  It  appears 
\\'<'  shall  I'apidlv  indicate  the  general  striinge  that  the  wood  (////cr  and  the  grass- 
cliaractei-istii's  of  each  one  of  these  onlers.  liopper  can  represent  tlie  >anu^  order. 
'J1ie  cdUitjittrd  are  grinding  insects,  pro-  The  iii-/i n>i't(ni  are  tvpitied  in  the  heau- 
\idi(l  with  two  pairs  of  dissimilar  wings;  tiful  dragon-Hv.  They  ai'e  grinding  ill- 
the  upper  pair  heing  opaijue,  hard,  horny,  s^■cts.  whose  four  transparent  wings,  coin- 
arid  useless  foi'  flight .  These  are  the  (7////V(  posed  of  an  i'\t|-enielv  thin  suhstance.  are 
which  eo\-er  the  ti'iie  wings;  the  latter  heing  su])porled  upon  a  more  or  less  complicated 
lililit.    iiiemhranous    and    folded    dounward.  armature   of    ner\es. 


i.l      ',  »   SI 


"I 


'■- 


,/^-^ 


M.  r,  \  > 


Slii.l>    ,il    iIm      -m  .  ,i11(  ,1    i,r;,yih-   l.irii.I    ,     >a1i,,I,     aij.l  >i.  I:ul    -!    lln     |.|.  .Lildv     i  I 

The  stag-heetle,  tlu'  niavhug,  the  hercules-  The  li  //iiiiiniptc  rii.  also,  are  grinding  in- 

heelle,    are    typical    representatiyes    of    this  st'cts.      The\',  too,  are  pro\  ided  with  trans- 

ordei'.      The    (irtlKiptird    are   also   grinding  ])arent  wings,  w  Inch,  however,  are  less  close- 

iiisecls,    with   two    pairs   of   wings,  lioth   of  Iv  rihix'd  than  in  the  j)rece(ling  family.   The 

which    serve   in    riiglil,    although   the   upper  w.asp,  the  hunihle-hee  and  the  lioiU'V-hee  are 

p.iir.  h.irder  and  closel\    folded,  ])rotect  the  ex.unjiles   of   this   natur.al   oi'der. 
lower  pair  when  in  repose.     'l"he  large  green  To  the  h-piiltipfirn  lielong  the  light  biit- 

grasshop]>er,    the    so-called    praving-locust,  tertlies,  which  .ari'  sucking  insects  ])rovided 

lielongs  to  the  (iiilioplcrii.  w  ith  four  scalv  wings.      These  we  have  pur- 

The  lii-u('ipt(rii  .are  sucking  insects,  very  posely  set   .aside  together  with  the  dragon- 

dissimil.ar    as    to    form    from    the   al)ove-de-  Hies;  reserving  them  for  a  future  study. 


.-.TO 


TIIK    IXSEC'l"    IN     1)K(,()I{  \1  l()\ 


Tlierc  remain  tlic  tliptcru.  the  most  dis- 
Hgrooablo  am()ii<^  insects.  'I'liev  are  nip- 
pers and  snekei's,  and  are  well  representi'd 
In"  the  mos((uit(). 

We  liave  thus  taint  I  v  outhnrd  tlie  classi- 
fication of  the  ui>eit  world:  seekino'.  at 
least,  to  tvpifv  all  the  or<lers,  omittin")-  the 
hutterriies  and  the  drao-on-flies  for  the  rea- 
son previously  stated,  and  the  mos(|uit()es. 
uhicli  do  not  lend  themsehes  lo  decorative 
treatment.       We    shall     now     speak     of    the 


with   the   "hole,   it    passes   afterward   to   ile- 
fails. 

'1"Ik'  insicl  imist  he  j)ri'sented  under  all 
its  .ispects:  it  m\!st  i)e  seen  t'rom  aho\e,  from 
i)ilou,  in  profile,  anteriorly,  posleriorh. 
It^  (htferent  habits  nuist  he  noted:  its  walk, 
its  repose,  its  tiio'ht.  'I'lieli  follow  the  de- 
tails of  its  memhers  .-uid  their  articulations, 
of  the  winj^N  and  their  tixlure.  of  the  head, 
of  the  oi-nami'ntat  ion  of  it-  liodv.  and 
tinallx'   of   the   color-scheme.       In    Iirief.   the 


l'rayin(r-Ifn'n-t  hi  tin-  .'iITilU'lf  of  ri.int':il      .M-  I*  -\'«tiii' 

species  which  we  liave  selected  for  e\amina-  analysis    nuist     he    suliicienlly    complete    to 

tion,  as  well  as  of  what  should  constitute  a  ])ermit    the    artist    to    reconstruct,    without 

study  of  insect  life.  otiier  aid,  the  insect  under  examination,   in 

As  in  all  cases  of  study  from  N.iture.  an  all   its  positions  and  its  attitudes, 

fxaimnation  of  the  insect,  made  with  ;i  view  The  .•u'tists   whosi'  desi<^-ns   we  here   illus- 

towarfl  decorative  use,  should  he,  primarily,  tratc   have   not    felt    themselves   ohliged   to 

an   analysis  scrujmlous  and  methothcal   of  furnisli  complete  studies.      l{ut  the  sketches 

external  forms.      It  is  certain,  nevertheless,  which    we   ^ive   are.    so   to   s])cak,   excellent 

that  anatomy  can  he  of  no  use  in  decorative  indications,    and    show     how     the    study    of 

art.      But  the  observation  of  external  forms  .Nature  may  be  pursued  according'  to  indi- 

niust  be  systematic  and  lof^ical.     He<finning  vidvial  temperament  and  methods. 

571 


THK    CRAFTSMAN 


Tlic   grasshopprv   m-   locust    is   tlu-   insect      siicciinnis    of   tlic    Insect    liring   confronted. 

which   has   proven   the   most    interesting  to  In    another    study.    M.     Honcdictus    lias 

artists.      Of    this    species.     M.     Hene.hctvis      treated  the  hercules  Inetle.      The  family  of 

this  insect  is  a  tropical  division  of  the 
(■oh(>iil(  III.  inhahiting  |n-ini'i})ally  (dloml)ia 
and  the  Antilles.  It  is  a  giant  of  the  insect 
worlil,  its  height  att.aining  t\\rl\c  .iiid  e\  en 
thirteen   cent mutres. 

Ag.ain,  in  this  instam-e.  we  must  I'egret 
th.-d  .M.  Hciicdictus  h.as  only  ]iarti.ally  stud- 
ied the  insect.  'I'he  position  of  the  u  ings 
gi\(s  .added  interest  from  the  f.act  tli.it  the 
lii-rt-ules  is  the  only  mciiiher  of  the  inUnjiti'ra 
familv  whicli  is  here  studied  ui  flight.  Hut 
liou  iiilcrr^ting  the  profile  would  h,a\i-  heen. 
dcHuing  foi-  us  the  cx.act  form  of  tiic  horns 
.uhI  giving  precise  ud'orni.at ion  reg.irding 
their  .ai-ticul.atiou  I  This  wiriety  of  Insect 
I n-f  .  ,,irii.     M-  r  \.  111.  nil  yj    ]5|.| i,-, h,-t Us  h.as  utill/.ed  ill  ,a  finely  studied 

otfel-s   Us  ,1   stud\    worthy   of  det.ailcd   lA.am-        elas]). 

in.ation.     'i'he  i|U.dity  of  his  dr.awiiig  c.iuses 

us    to    regret    its    incoini)leteness.       jlou     in-  In    .1    dec:. r.ative    horder.    .M.    .Much.a    lias 

inter<'sting  the  profile  ,aiid  the 

details     ot'     the     insect      wciuid        ate-s-i.^^-    "^i^£i  ^.er'^       f     V 


ha\  e  heen  di'.aw  n  liy  this 
h.uid'  What  ch.ir.acler  we 
find  here'  What  strength 
of  structure  resides  ui  this  sj""»; 
little  oi'g.iiiismi  .\iid  w  li.it  a  ^jj 
t'riiitful  scheme  of  orn.ament 
the  .artist  c.ili  deri\i-  from  it  ! 
.M  .  Helledictlls  olfel's  Us  tuo 
fine  .1  pplicit ions  :  .a  pl,a(|Ue  in 
perfor.aled  steel,  somewh.it  I'e- 
calliiig  the  gu.ards  of  d.ip.-iiiese 
swords.  'I'he  decor.ative  us<'  of 
the  wings.  \'.  Iiich  are  indicated 
alone  h\  the  strong  wel)hing, 
is  most  curious  .and  int.ivst ing.  .\  comh  treated  the  .stag-beetle.  But  he  has  not 
iii.idi  from  horn,  the  work  of  the  s.inie  .artist.  jii  rh.ips  t.aken  .all  possible  advantage  of  his 
is    also    ,a    stu.l\     of    til,'    grasshopper;    two       theme.       His  study  is  charming,  although  it 


t'unili,     M.  Hi-iu-  LiiliiMie 


rilK    INSKCr    IN    DKA OKA  riox 


is  iiu'oiiifileti'.  since  the  insect  is  represented 
with  folded,  rather  than  extended  winpf.s. 
I  lis  insects,  placed  upon  -unfloucrs.  do  not 
rest  upon  the  hlossonis.  Furtiier  than  the 
ditt'erence  of  scale  lietween  the  insects  and 
flowers,  which  is  considerahle,  the  insects  are 
juxtaposed  upon  the  floral  motif  without 
unitinir  with  it  to  form  a  sino-le  desion. 

As  for  myself.  I  do  not  feel  qualified  to 
offer  a  studv  of  tiie  so-called  pravino--locust 
or  to  treat  it  decoratively.  But  let  me  only 
he  permitted  to  descrihe  the  insect,  which  is 
one  of  tlie  most  singular  and  characteristic 
of  our  country.  The  ririiii-Diou  of  Pro- 
\  ence,    the    I'ru-Difii    of   the   remainder   of 


hristle.  harpooninff  in  its  fiio-lit  the  unhappv 
insect,  which  is  thus  tortured  and  devoured 
ali\e. 

If  an  adversary  of  larj^'e  size  appear,  the 
locust  does  not  retire.  Hut.  in  order  to 
terrify  the  enemy,  it  at  once  transforms 
itself  into  a  kind  of  small  hut  fri(;-htful 
drai^'on.  'I'he  hust  is  then  contracted  and 
forced  inward;  the  predatory  claws,  heint;- 
-pread  apart,  disclose  the  hlack  and  white 
-pots  which  are  constellated  upon  the  in- 
terior surface;  the  abdomen  becomes  con- 
ca\f:  the  upper  winji-s  are  elongated  liori- 
/otitallv  :  w  hile  the  lower  ones  are  ])ointed 
upward.       In  truth,  the  uiscet  then  assumes 


M.   K.-ni    I.iiH.iii, 


France,  is  also  the /'/-w/;/*!-/  (.Mui'ti?)  of  the 
ancient  (ireeks :  tliese  sin<iular  names  liav- 
iiifr  been  ac((uired  by  the  in-ect  because  of 
the  attitudes  which  it  assumes. 

Green  in  color,  confoundinp;  itself  with 
foliaffe,  this  locust  awaits  for  hours,  witli 
unwearyiiif^'  ])atience.  the  ])assini;-  of  small 
prey.  For  the  frentle  and  <rracious  names 
under  which  it  passes,  conceal  the  true  char- 
acter of  this  formidable  carnivore.  A\'ith 
its  bust  inflated  and  tense,  in  .-in  attitude  of 
i-eHection.  with  its  lonf^'  ])redatory  claws 
folded  and  joined,  the  locust  appears  trulv 
to  b<-  ai)sorbed  in  |)ravi  i'.  Hut  let  a  <^nat 
j)ass,  and  immediately  the  lon<^  daws  of  the 
locust   extend:  the   hofjks.   with   which   thev 


a  straii're.  ferocious  and  fantastic  attitude. 
I  have  ri'presenti'd  it  thus  in  combat,  and 
have  Used  this  charact<'i'istic  ])osc  in  com- 
posin<^-  a  diadem-comb. 

Let  me  add  to  this  brief  study  that  the 
trianfTuliir  head  of  this  insect  is  movable, 
and  (rives  to  its  owner  a  real  and  powerful 
f;icial   (^|)l'essioii. 

It  is  (|uite  unncessary  to  add  in  closini^- 
that  the  (Treat  Nature-studtrit  and  .artist. 
.M.  Uine  I,alif|ue.  often  introduces  insects 
into  the  decoration  of  his  jewi'ls.  .\mon<;- 
such  themes  we  note  the  grasshopper.  It  is 
also  useless  to  observe  that  M.  Laliqne  treats 
such    themes    with    rrreat    distinction.      The 


5T:i 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


<-(iiiili  and  tlu'  lurklarc  Iutc  illii>t  r.ilrd.  will 
j)ri)\c  our  statcinciit  and  will  point  tn  tln' 
i'act  I  hat  (MK'  of  tlic  ^rcatcNt  ^'cniiiscs  of 
our  tinu's  lia^  put  into  practice  the  counsels 
o-Lveii  a  h.df  century  ai^'o  hy  the  thouj>-htful. 
Nature-wcirsjiipinn'  .Michelet.  M.  Laii(|ne 
lias  renett(<l  lii>  aiicii-iit  traditional  craft, 
and  has  ])]aced  it  upon  a  level  with  the  fine 
arts.  He  lias  larf;i'ly  etfected  these  cle- 
siralile  results  throui^'li  his  ])assioiiate  devo- 
tion to  the  iiiinute  and  li'unble  creatiire->  of 
the  animal  and  \  ii;-etal>le  kino-dom^:  hy 
niakiiii;'  a  frank  and  loyal  return  to  the 
<;reat    Mother. 

/•'/■../.,    .//■/,/    Ih-i-oniliini.  .Iiiiiiuini.    I'.'"', 


WILLIAM  .MOKKIS:  HIS  TASTKS  IN 
AU  r  AM)  LITKRATURE. 

F(  )K  the  ntiiird  pro<liict>  of  inod'i'ii  iii- 
ociniit\  uhieli  did  not  root  thein- 
sel\(s  liack  on  that  old  trachtion.  he 
had  as  little  ta^ti-  in  literature  as  in  paiiit- 
iiiL;'.  'i'he  iiiodcrn  hook^  which  in  later  hti' 
he  n-ad  with  the  i;rratest  en|ovineiit  w<'re 
I  hose  which.  Mithoiit  artifice  or  dislinction 
of  stvie,  di'alt  with  a  life  whether  actual  or 
nna^inarv,  which  ap|iroa<hed  hi^  ideal  in 
its  siinplicitv  and  it-,  clove  relation  to  Na- 
ture. es|)et'ialh  ainoiii;'  a  raci'  of  people  who 
reinained  face  to  face  \\ith  the  ileineiitarv 
facts  of  life,  and  had  iie\er  heconie  fllllv 
sophisticated  hv  cnih/ation.  In  tins  spirit, 
he  adiiiir<'d  and  |)raised  wdrk-'  like  ]\Ir. 
I)ouo'litv"s  "Arahia  Deserta.'"  or  "I'ncle 
Ri'iiuis,"  from  which  he  was  alwa\s  willino- 
and  eager  to  read  aloud,  or  "Hiick  l''inii.*" 
which  Ik'  half- jestinoh'  ])ronoiinced  to  he 
the  greatest  thing,  whether  m  art  or  nature. 
57 1.  ' 


that  Ameriia  had  prodiu'ed.  I'or  retine- 
nieiit  of  -tvle.  for  sniitilc'  p-~vchology  in 
creation,  he  had  hut  little  taste.  He  could  not 
admire  either  .Meredith  or  Stiuison.  When 
he  \\a>  introdiict-d  to  Ihsen\  plavs  anilc:illed 
on  to  /|oiii  III  admiring  their  union  of  accom- 
plished draiiiatu'  craftsmanship  with  the 
most  modern  iiioNcmeiit  of  ideas,  thev  were 
dismissed  h\  him  m  the  terse  and  compro- 
heiisixe  ciiticisin.  "A  er\-  cle\er.  I  iiiust  sav." 
Hut  neither  el.ahoration  of  stvle  nor  advanct'd 
moderiiisiii  (if  treatment  stand  in  the  way  of 
his  appreei.dion  when  the  suhstance  of  a 
hook  was  to  Ills  liking,  and  among  the  books 
\\  liich  in  nceiit  vears  he  praised  most  higlily 
were  the  iii.isterpit'Ces  id'  I'ieri'e  I^oti  .'ind 
^I.iiirice  Alaetei'linck. 

■".M.ister  ot'  himself  ;iii<l  tlierefin'e  of  all 
rie.-ir  him."  .Morris  .it  the  s,-iine  time  ret.ained 
the  most  childlike  simplicitv  in  the  expres- 
sion of  Ills  .ictii.il  thoughts  ^>v  feelings  on 
an\  snh/|e<'t.  .and  w .as  as  little  h,am})ered  hy 
f.alse  sh.-iiiii'  .-IS  he  was  guided  hv  convention. 
In  some  piiiuts  \u-  rcinaiiied  .an  .ahsolute  child 
to  the  end  of  his  \ii'v .  If  \ciu  introduced 
him  to  ,1  friend  .uid  he  li.ad  the  f.imtest  si.is- 
jncioii  th.it  he  w  .Is  there  to  he  shown  off.  his 
manners  iiist.uitl\-  became  mtoler.ibli'.  As 
childlike  \v , Is  .11  lot  her  of  Ills  charat't  eristics — 
the  constant  desire  to  he  in  .actual  touch  with 
the  things  he  loved.  He  became  a  member 
of  the  Societv  of  Anti(|u.iri.ins  for  no  othel' 
reason  th.in  th;it  he  might  be  p.art-owner  of 
one  of  their  liiec  li.iev.al  p.ainted  hooks.  The 
mere  h.indhiig  of  .a  be.uitifiil  thing  seemed 
to  gne  linn  intiaise  ))hvsic.d  pleasure.  "It 
vou  li,a\c  got  one  of  his  books  in  vour  li.inds 
for  .a  minute."  liurne-.Tones  s.aid  of  him. 
"he'll  t.ake  it  .iw.ax'  from  \ou  .as  if  vou  were 
hurting  it,  .and  show   it  \i)ii  himself." 

/■•,•.,/„   Ill,    l.if,    nf  \VlU,„,l,    M.H-rls. 
./.    n'.    Maik.iil. 


ALKiriAX    HASKKTRY 


l{.\>KI,lin       OK      1111.      Al.l.rilAN 
ISLANDS,      in       (  .      (i  .\  l)>  1)  i:  \ 

roKi  iii.K. 

T(>   ini)>t    l)a>ki-'t    colK'ctor^.    tlu'   trrm 
"Attn  Ha-~ki't"  niran-  a  hraiitit'nllv 
wovoii.    riitlur    trail    and    vcrv    c\- 
|)fii.sive  basket,  wliich  comes  from 
some   iiulctinitclv   situated   island   --omeuliere 
near  Alaska. 

'I'ltis  island,  Attn,  is  in  reality  almost  a 
tlioiisand  miles  from  tlie  main  land  of 
Alaska,  as  it  is  tlu'  extreme  ue^tei-n  island 
of  tile  Aleutian  chain,  wliicli  exti'nds  in  the 
arc  of  a  circle,  and  in  a  westerly  direction 
from  the  southwest  corner  of  Alaska  pro- 
)irr.  forming-  the  di\  idinji'  line  hetucen  the 
Pacific  Ocean  and  Uerin^'  sia.  Attn  is  the 
most  westerly  point  of  land  of  North  Anur- 
ica.  and  is,  in  fact,  so  far  to  the  wi'stward 
that  it  is  actually  in  eastern  lonfritude.  The 
<ireat  distiince  of  the  island  from  tlic  lines 
of  traffic  is  the  chief  cause  of  the  vah'e  of 
Attn  baskets,  althouo'h  the  limited  -npplv 
i.s  also  a  factor. 

Althouffh  there  are  eifi,ht  yillaoes  amon^- 
the  Aleutian  islands,  most  of  the  baskets 
that  reach  the  market  ))ass  under  the  name 
of  Attn.  Many  a  basket  which  has  not 
been  within  luinflreds  of  miles  of  this  place, 
is  sold  as  an  Attn  to  the  luisuspectin^-  col- 
lector. 'I'his  is  not  always  because  the 
dealer  wishes  to  nuslead,  but  becausi'  he  does 
not  know.  In  fact,  it  is  often  a  \erv  hard 
matter  to  decide  where  a  certain  basket  is 
made:  for  natiycs  nioyiuf^'  from  one  yillajifc 
to  another,  take  their  methods  with  them. 
'J'here  is.  howeyer,  usually  somethiiifj  in  the 
weaye  of  a  basket  wliioli  indicates  to  an  ex- 
])ert  the  locality  from  which  it  came. 

In  all  of  the  eifjht  Aleutian  yilla<tes  :  Attn 


on  Attn  i^l.ind.  Atka  on  Atka  island.  Nikol- 
ski  (in  I'nm.ik  island,  .irid  I'n.alaska.  .Mak- 
ushin.  Kashira,  Chernofski  and  IJeorka  on 
I'nalaska  island,  the  materials  of  basketry 
are  the  same,  with  the  exception  of  those 
nhich  are  used  in  di-eorat  ion.  What  is  said 
of  one  as  to  the  f^'rass  and  its  curin<;'  and 
pre])ai-ation,  can  be  said  of  all,  excejjt  th.it 
more  c.nre  and  skill  are  exercised  at  .\ttu 
and  .\tk;i.  than  at  an\  of  the  other  ])laces. 
The  ifrass,-  wild  rye. — the  oidy  material 
su))plied  by  nature  for  the  makine;-  of  bas- 
kets Ml  tlii'se  reo'ions.  n-rous  profusely  on 
all  the  isl.-inds.  and  all  alon^-  tlir  ^V^■stern 
coast  of  Alask.i.  It  is  a  coarse,  heayy 
H'rass.  with  blades  about  two  feet  long  })y  a 
litfK'  more  tli.ui  .a  h.alf  inch  «  ide.  It  heads 
in  the  autumn,  and  looks  somewhat  like 
wheat;  but  thi'  heads  are  tfi-nerally  lii>'ht, 
and  there  is  seldom  any  ^^-rain  in  them. 
Thei'e  is  always  a  rank  ^I'owth  of  this  grass 
along  the  water's  edge.  In  the  yillages,  it 
grows  evirywhere.  eyen  on  the  to])s  of  the 
hdniliiinix.  or  sod  huts,  in  which  the  natixi'S 
liye.  The  basket  maker  is  \ei-y  careful  in 
the  selection  of  her  grass;  long  experience 
haying  taught  lu  r  th.at  the  grass  growing" 
so  I'ank  m  front  of  hei-  door  is  coarse  and 
weak,  and  that  to  get  strong,  tough  mate- 
rial, she  mi!st  go  to  the  hillsides.  Just 
betdre  the  grass  begins  to  bead,  that  is, 
between  tlu"  first  and  the  middle  of  July,  the 
growth  is  at  its  best,  .and,  at  this  time, 
women  can  be  seen  all  ovci-  the  hills  g.ather- 
ing  (|uantities  of  it  for  the  winter's  woi-k. 
This  is  no  oi-dinary  grass  cutting;  it  is  a 
slow  and  tedious  process  of  si'lecting  the 
good  .and  of  rejecting  the  unsuitable. 
\e\(i'  more  than  three,  .and  oftin  ordy  two 
blades  ai'e  taken  from  the  stalk.  These  are 
the  youuifer  (»nes,  which  are  of  a  nmch  more 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


ilclicatc  Hlji'r  .111(1  .UX'  iiUK'li  >tr()iii;(r  tli:m 
Hu-  (iIiKt  Icaxo.  TlirsL'  two  or  three  hlades 
.UT  lii-dkeii  i)tt'  at  tlie  base,  and,  when  taken 
hiinie.  ar(.'  spread  out  in  rows  on  the  irround. 
where  thev  arc  ■.■aret'iillv  watched  and 
turned  tor  al)onl  two  weeks.  They  .ari' 
ke|)t  out  of  the  siinhii'ht  .as  much  .as  |>oss[- 
hle  siiK-e  the  he.it  tends  to  ( h'y  the  ,u'r.ass  too 
<iuickl\'  tor  sti-eni;th.  It  is  Irui'  th.at  the 
Isl.inds  ;irc  \vy\  httK'  troidiKd  \\ith  sini- 
^hiiie.  Some  Nw.ather  ol)sir\  ,it  ions  h\  the 
I{ussi.an  luissioii.arv  \erii.aniinot,  eo\rrini;;i 
pi-riod  ot'  se\i-ii  \c,irs.  show  tit'tv-thni'  clear 
d,i\s.  one  thous.ind  tun  hiin<h'eil  si\ty- 
thl'ee  eloudx  d.axs.  .and  orn'  thous.nid  two 
hiUHh'cd  thirix  d.i\s  uhiii  it  r.iuie<l.  h.uled 
oi'  siio\vc(k  'I'his  docs  not  iiie.in  th.it  tlie 
sun  \s.as  seen  onK  tort  \ -thrci'  tnnes  ui  sc\iai 
\c',irs.  for  it  Is  not  iiiicoiiimon  to  see  .a  do/cai 
sjiowers  in  .a  d.i  \  «ith  hri^'ht  sunshine  lie- 
tuecii,  vet  this  uoiild  not  I )e  counted  ,i  cle.ar 
d.i\.  ^Vhlal  I  he  ^r.ass  lias  re.aehi-d  the  pro- 
|)ci-  (k'o-ree  of  softness  or  wilt.-  tli.at  is.  in 
.ihollt  two  \Miks.  il  Is  t.ikell  into  the  house 
.111(1  sorted.  The  hl.ades  ,are  .all  scpar.ated. 
the  coarse,  the  medium  .and  the  tine  iiiik  r 
lil.ade;  each  li.a\in^'  its  own  ]>ilc.  'I'liosc  of 
the  luo  co.arscr  i^'i'.ades  .are  split  with  the 
t  liiiiiih  n.ail  into  I  lirec  p.ai'ts  :  the  middle  piece 
with  the  he,a\  \  rill  Ikiiij^'  discarded.  'I"he 
\rv\  tine,  \()iiiii;'  hl.ades  .are  too  soft  .and 
t( aider  .as  vet  for  much  handlino'.  so  theV  .are 
dried  whole.  'I'lie  (litf'(a'ent  o-r.adcs  .are  now 
m.adc  111  sm.all  limidles  ,aiid  luiii;;'  out  to  dry 
on  a  sort  of  clothes  hue,  m,a(K'  of  hr.aided 
Hr.ass.  This  must  he  done  .altoti'ether  on 
I'oo-o-v  and  cIoikK  d.avs.  .and  the  process 
re(|iiires  ,ali(Hit  a  month.  l)iiriii<4  this  dr\- 
iiii;-.  .at  .a  cert.aiii  st.ao-e.  each  hundle  is  tuist- 
<•(!  or  u  riino'.  so  .as  to  separate  the  fibres  .and 
iii.ake    the    iii'.ass    more    pliable    and    touii'li. 


The  (Irving-  Is  finished  indoors.  When  they 
are  .almost  dry.  the  bundles  are  separated 
into  wisps  about  the  size  of  a  finger,  and 
the  laids  br.aided  loosely  together,  so  that 
tlie\  will  not  tangle.  A  single  ])iecc  can 
he  pulled  out.  JUst  .as  a  WDiii.an  jnills  out  .a 
thread  of  d.arning  cotton  from  .a  braid. 
\\'lieii  il  is  to  be  so  used,  the  gr.ass  is  split 
with   the  Ihiiiiib  n.ail  to  the  desired  fineness. 

'I'lie  I'esolt  of  the  above  method  of  cur- 
ing gi\cs  .a  rich  straw  color  to  the  coarser 
str.aw  ;  while  the  fin(a'  straw  is  almost  white. 
At  Attn,  they  cure  a  grass  still  whiter  by 
laitting  it  in  Xox'cmber  and  hanging  up 
the  \iho|e  st.alk,  roots  u| ip(  riiiost,  until  dry. 
Hill  this  m.iti  ri.al  is  used  onlv  to  make  while 
stripes  in  the  u  .arp  of  ""dr.au string"  baskets  ; 
■as  it  is  \(  r\  weak.  li,a\lng  been  practically 
we.athei'ed  white  before  it  was  cut.  'I'hca'e 
is  still  .aii(itli(  r  sh.ade  proiaired  ,at  Attn,  .and 
sonietinies  ,at  Fii.il.ask.a.  This  is  a  v(a'v 
soft  te.i-i;re(  II.  obt.aiiicd  bv  kee])ing  the 
gr.ass  near  the  houses,  in  the  (kaise  shade  of 
the  growth  of  weeds  .and  gr.ass.  for  the  first 
two  Weeks  of  the  (airiiig.  It  is  th(.ai  taken 
out  .and  dried,  .as  in  the  first  method,  oidv  it 
Is  kept  more  in  the  sh.ade. 

Heside  Ihe  grass,  the  onlv  materi.als  used 
:[Vv  for  Ihe  decor.ations.  ,\t  Attn,  they 
decorate  with  colored  silks,  or  worsteds, 
worked  iiilo  designs,  with  via'tic.al  stri])es  ot 
green  or  white  grass,  and.  also,  with  the 
very  white  .and  papery  skin  taken  from  the 
thro.at  (d'  .1  fish  (d'  the  s(adpin  f.amily,  called 
bv  the  nati\es  "Koloslika."  At  other 
places,  silks  ,111(1  worsteds  are  the  only  deco- 
rations. s.a\e  tli.it  occasionally  white  eaglc- 
down  is  Used  bv  n.itives  .at  Al.akushin  and 
Heork.i.  .and  thin  strips  of  seal-gut.  colored 
with  n.ati\e  jiaints.  at  T'mn.ak.  But  these 
two  Last  .are  seldoin.  if  e\(a-.  seen  now.       At 


uO 


ALEl    II.W    HASKKTRV 


OIK-  tiiin'.  tliu  use  of  tlu'  down  of  t'litflos  and 
of  otlior  birds  was  (juitc  cominoii  with  all 
tlic  ii.itiM's.  but  tliis  was  loiio-  siiuv  discou- 
tiiiiKd.  Worsteds  and  silks  air  "Generally 
procurable  from  the  traders  and  are  more 
convenient  to  liandle.  Often,  when  the 
weavers  cannot  <>'et  these  materials,  they 
ravil  out  a  scraj)  of  cloth  and  use  tiie  ra\ cl- 
ings. 

By  t"ar  the  greati'r  j)art  of  the  basket 
weaving  is  done  during  the  winter  months 
and,  therefoi'c,  indoor-.  Mo--!  of  the  na 
tives  in  the  western  villages  li\  e  in  htirabttriis 
or  .sod  huts.  These  are  all  alike  and  from 
the  outside  look  like  grass-covered  moimds 
about  six  feet  high.  'I'liiie  i>  a  little  door 
at  the  side,  near  one  end.  and  a  small  glaztd 
window  at  the  other  end.  The  door  opens 
into  a  room  about  f'oui'  or  fixe  feet  long  bv 
seven  oi-  light  wide.  On  one  side  is  a  fire 
place  with  cooking  utensils  and  a  pile  of 
grass,  roots,  etc..  calle<l  "chiksha."  for  fuel. 
At  till'  other  sidi'  is  a  wooden  ])artition  with 
a  door  opening  into  the  living  I'oom.  which 
is  from  seven  to  ten  feet  sijuare.  with  straw 
on  the  floor  and  a  narrow  wooden  bunk  on 
each  side.  The  inhabitants  an-  k(-pt  warm 
by  not  allowing  any  of  the  heated  air  to 
escape,  and  as  the  natixes  live  chiefly  on 
dried  salmon,  it  is  not  hard  to  imagine  the 
state  of  the  atmosjihere.  On  entering  one 
of  these  huts,  a  novice  will  innnediately 
back  out  to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  but  if 
there  is  hope  of  a  b;isk<-f  to  Ih-  fovrid,  the 
collector  cannot  be  ki-pt  awav,  and  soon 
making  a  .strong  mental  effort,  he  takes  a 
long  breath  of  air  iuid  dives  in.  not  breath- 
ing again  until  he  comes  to  th(-  surface  with 
his  tropliies.  These  nuist  hi-  ain-d  before 
they  can  be  stored  away.  How  such  fine 
and  licautiful   work  c-an  be  dom-  in   such  a 


})laee  and  in  such  light  is  hard  to  tell,  yet 
here  it  is  done.  The  weaver  sits  on  the 
ground  with  knees  doubled  up  nearly  to  her 
chin.  Often  some  little  girl,  fixe  or  six 
ye.-irs  old,  auay  in  a  corner,  so  i|uiet  that 
one  would  nexer  know  of  lur  presen(-e, 
weaxes  away  as  if  she  had  been  doing  it  a 
lifetime,  and  -he  does  sur|)risinglv  good 
wiirk.  'I'lure  In  .-i  little  girl  six  years  old 
at  Atka  who  can  xveave  with  either  zigzag, 
straight,  or  ci'ossed  xvarp,  and  who  does 
(juitc-  ;is  g(i()(i  work  as  some  of  the  women. 

While   the   types   of  basket   made   in   the 
different    villages    are    usuallv    distinct,    in 


)■<:' 


vl" 


Ki^riirt-  I.     Plain  Iwiiic,  openw<»rk  weaw  . ,- 

zair  war|).  used  in  ,\ttll  'Mrawstrinj:"  baskets 

sevi-ral  instances,  strange  mixtures  haxe 
bei-ji  found,  for  xvhen  a  basket-maker  of  one 
village  moxes  to  another,  she  generally  min- 
gles the  nii'thod-  of  Ixith   pl.-ices. 

Startuig  with  Attu,  there  comes  first  the 
burdin-basket  of  the  pc-ople,  often  known 
as  the  .\ltn  "dravi -I  rmg."  This  is  a  col- 
lapsible basket,  cvlindric-al  in  shape.  \\H\\  :i 
height  .-ibout  i-(|ual  to  its  diameter.  The 
up|)er  ends  of  the  gras-  forming  the  warp, 
tc-rniinate  in  .-i  br.-iid  «hi(-li  run-  around  the 
top.  and  continuts  on  in  a  string  or  strap 
tor  carrying,  about  three  times  as  long  as 
th<-    basket    is    wide.      The    we.-ive    which    is 


THE    CUAFTSMAN 


iicriiliar  to  Attn.  .-ilHidiinli  iiiiitatiil  jji  otlur 
pl.-UH's.  is  a  jilaiii  twine,  dju'invork  weave, 
with  a  /ifrzag-  warp.  At  tlie  liottdiii.  tlii' 
warn  is  straiy-lit  and   radiates  to  tlie  sides. 


riirnrr    II       I'Imiii   iwiim-   wciiv  c.  witli  strait;lil    vv;ir|. 
anil   .-liiMly   .IrMWli   wci"f  IPulaviU'd  i 


wlieri'  lliese  ^ti'aNvs  are  ^plit  and  e\l(iid  np 
in  a  /.ii;/ao':  laeli  lialf  hein^j,'  eaiiij,lit  aiter- 
iiateU  liv  tin-  woof  \\ith  its  otiier  half  and 
the  adjoinino-  half  of  the  next  sti-a\\.  thus 
forming-  triannnlar  opininos.  So  as  to 
i;i\e  extra  streiietli  w  In  re  the  strain  of 
carrvine-  falls.-  that  i^.  at  the  plaee  where 
the  strino-  is  attaehid  and  the  )ilace  whore 
it  is  made  fast,  on  the  sille  opposite. — 
there  ai'e  thne  or  four  }ii<ces  of  i;rass 
twisted  into  col-ds,  'I'llese  extend  to  the 
l)ottoni  anil  form  )iart  ot'  the  \iai'p.  In 
their  native  ehmate,  where  the  atmosphere  is 
alwa\^  daiii)!.  tlie^e  liaskets  are  siirprisiiio-lv 
sfroni;'  and  earr\  safil\'  as  inanv  sahnon  as 
the\  can  hold,  the  lari;-est  of  them  from 
fort\  to  tiftv  poiiiaU.  The  same  liaskets  ni 
a  --team-heated  meseimi  miL;"ht  lii'  hroki'ii  at 
a  touch.  'I'iie  deeor.at  ions  on  tlii^  *.^'l"'  'd 
basket  consist  of  a  horder  of  worsted,  or 
worsted  and  fish  skin,  just  lielow  the  liraid. 
It  is  sometimes  said  that  the-e  ha^kets  ari' 
wo\en   under  water,  hut   the  -tr.iw    |s  alwa\s 


so  damp  from  the  atmosphere  that  it  does 
not   have  to  he  even  dam))ened  whin  worked. 

The  Attn  eoxcred  haski'ts  are  always 
small  and  made  from  finely  sjilit  grass. 
The  \\ea\c.'  is  a  plain  twine  with  a  straig-ht 
warp  and  closelv  dravvn  woof,  inakiiid'  a 
tiexihie  hut  almost  waterti;;ht  hasket.  In 
wc.ixiiii;'.  the  wdof  Is  drawn  close  at  once,  as 
is  the  case  w  itli  all  fine  woi'k  of  these  natives, 
.-ind  is  not  driven  down  .afterwards,  as  is 
sometimes  sii])j)osi'd.  Tin'  decorations  m 
these  haskets  are  done  with  silk  m-  wursted 
threads;  the  fitfures  lii'in^  scattered  all  over 
tl;e  sides  and  top.  There  is  .-ilso  .i  ple.lsin  er 
vari.itioii  made  hy  wcirkin^  two  or  three 
rows  with  crossi'd  wai-p.  thus  fin'iniiii;'  ^mall 
hexado|i:i|    opening's. 

It  is  in  cie.-arette  cases  that  the  climax  i.s 
reached.  U)V  there  is  nothinei;  in  basketry  to 
coiiip.(i-c-  with  their  fineness.  'I'hese  are 
made  with  straight  w.ai'p,  plain  twine  weave, 
the  same  th.-it  is  used  in  the  small  covered 
haskets.  lint  much  finer.      Some  of  the  finer 


VV^iff^Ci »'."." .'  -■ ,' ,' :  -  .*  -•  ^" .'  c  s\*  4*  c  k  c  >'  vV 


(^f.^sssy.' 


^^.-.■^A 


■Hr.>m*«iaM&''''<''''''liaMBBr' « ,*<«MUh 

Fiirnn'    III       Cigan-tte  c-as,-    i  .nKd-ui-il  ■ .    slimviii..' 
lii-\.-i^"ilial  (M'l-lLilitr-  in    til'-    plain   twinr.  ci-mss,-,! 


w  arl'  w  fa\ 


t'iwarette  cases  have  as  many  as  fifty  meslies 
to  the  inch.  In  weaviiii;-.  to  keep  the  \\ork 
smooth  and  stl-ai^lit.  the  v\c.i\er  h.is  two 
round  piet'es  of  wood,  one  a  little  (^'re.iter  in 


5:s 


ALEiriAX    IJASKKTRV 


diameter  tlian  tlie  other,  over  which  tiie 
outer  ;uk1  inner  parts  of  tlie  case  are  woven. 
They  arc  then  drawn  off.  Hnished  at  tlie 
tops,   creased   at   tlie   bottoms   and   slipped 


,7"  71/1/ 
/ 


i/|i!li!!iijgji}'{imu 


/ir/7ij]7iiii]Tini7iini  nii^tw 

p  i/T/innniijiinii  iiiiMrr 
/;:]!i]//i/ji]n'i]i]rii  ]i»i< 


jiiiiniiiiiiinnniinijiiirW' 
ili/miiin/iiiiniiHiiriniiiwfv 
iiiiiiiiinniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiwti 

if////inijiinii!)jiiiii'ffniiji.m 
/!nii/i:miiii'.uiniii]/:  ;iii/i™i 
/;iitiKiiiinni:;!iiiiiiir,iiiii;^'W 

;niiiniT>ijiiiiii'>iiiijniij]iiifii;MH'rr 

Figure  IV.     Plain    twine,    openwork    weave,    with 
straierht  warp  leularered) 

one  inside  the  other.  The  decorations  are 
of  silk,  ver}-  often  with  several  rows  of  open 
work,  done  with  the  crossed  warp.  They 
are  almost  alwaj-s  charming  in  both  color 
and  design. 

Beside  the  baskets  above  mentioned,  the 
Attu  natives  make  mats  of  the  same  weave 
as  the  "drawstring"  baskets,  and  cover  bot- 
tles with  the  close  weave  used  in  the  covered 
baskets. 

At  Atka,  the  most  usual  product  is  a 
large  covered  basket  of  straight  warp,  plain 
twine  weave;  the  woof  running  in  rows, 
more  or  less  separated,  leaving  rectangular 
openings.  The  sides  bulge  out  like  a  bar- 
rel and  are  larger  at  the  top  than  at  the 
bottom.  The  pieces  are  decorated  all  over 
the  tops  and  sides  with  worsted  or  silk. 
Here  the  small  covered  baskets  are  similar  to 
those  made  at  Attu,  onh-,  as  a  rule,  the  work 
is  finer. 

The  Atka  burden-basket  is  the  strongest 
of  all  tlie  Aleutian  liaskets ;  being  made  very 


heavy  and  in  a  wrapped  twine  wetive,  differ- 
ing from  the  plain  twine  in  having  one  ele- 
ment of  the  woof  running  horizontally  out- 
side the  basket.  Though  roughly  finished, 
this  basket  is  quite  attractive.  However,  it 
is  seldom  seen  away  from  the  island,  as  it  is 
made  for  daily  use,  and  not  for  sale.  There 
is  no  decoration  ;  but  around  the  top  there 
is  a  heavy  braid  to  which  a  strap  or  rope  is 
tied,  b\-  whicli  to  carry  it.  These  natives 
also  make  mats  in  the  straight  warp  open- 
work, and  cover  bottles  with  a  great  waste 
of  beautifully  fine  work. 

The  baskets  made  at  Nikolski  are,  for  the 
greater  part,  a  coarse  imitation  of  the  Attu 
"drawstring."  They  are  of  bad  shape 
and  have  no  string.  However,  a  basket  is 
sometimes  found  at  this  place  which  is  dif- 
ferent from  any  found  elsewhere.  It  is  a 
straight  warp,  j)l;iiii  twine  openwork  weave. 
The  bottom  is  very  coarse,  but  beautifully 
flat  and  evenly  made.  The  sides  come  up 
straight,  but  tlie  diameter  is  greater  at  the 


Fitfiirt-    \'.     \S'rappeil   twine   w**uve  used    in   All\a 
liiirdeu   luiskets 


lop  than  it  is  at  the  bottom.  Niar  the  bot- 
tom, the  weave  is  coarse  and  the  warp  heavy. 
At  every  row  or  two  of  tin-  wodC,  the  warp  is 
spht  and  the  weave  becomes  i'nwr  and  finer. 


■.7ft 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


till  at  the  top  it  is  of  a  close  fine  weave  where 
the  warp  is  terminated  in  a  fine  braid.  The 
decorations,  if  any,  are  at  the  uj)pcr  edge 
and  are  of  worsted  or  vei-y  thin  strips  of 
scal-aut,  colored  red  or  black,  with  native 
paints. 

At  Cheriiofski  and  Kashiga  the  baskets 
are  large  and  of  irregular  shape,  much 
larger  at  the  top  than  at  the  bottom.      The 


The  natives  of  Makushin  and  Beorka 
make  a  very  good  covered  basket  of  the 
same  weave  as  that  used  at  Attn  in  covered 
baskets,  with  the  difference  that  these, 
though  of  smooth  and  regular  weave,  ai'e 
much  coai'ser  and  heavier,  making  a  more 
serviceable  basket  and  one  that  holds  its 
shape  better  than  the  finer  ones.  At  the 
present    time,    these    are     decorated    with 


Alk; 


Attn 


weave  is  the  plain  twine  with  straight  warp, 
the  rows  in  the  woof  being  separated  by  in- 
tervals as  great  as  half  an  inch.  They  arc 
decorated  all  over  with  worsted  and  are  in 
a  wav  attractive  and  rather  savage  in  their 
coloring.  There  also  is  made  a  poor  imita- 
tion (jf  the  7\ttu  "drawstring,"  coarse  and 
irregular,  with  no  braiding  or  string  at  the 
top. 


worsted,  but  until  quite  recently,  the  ends 
of  the  down,  stripped  from  eagle  plumes, 
were  woven  in,  so  that  the  little  plumes  stand 
out  about  an  inch  and  give  a  pretty 
feathery  effect. 

At  Unalaska,  where  natives  from  all  the 
different  islands  come  from  time  to  time,  the 
influence  of  the  whites  is  strong,  and  the 
baskets  take  all  manner  of  fantastic  shapes 


ALEl^TIAN    HASKKTRV 


and  show  all  sorts  of  combinations  of  weaves 
and  designs.  There  are  some  ver^'  good 
baskets  of  the  Attn  "drawstring"  type,  the 
only  noticeable  ditfVM-ence  being  in  the 
string,  which  is  either  shorter  or  omitted  al- 
together. There  are  also  some  good  covered 
baskets  of  the  Makushin  typo,  but  the  great 
majority  of  Unalaska  baskets  are  crude  and 


nothing  about  basketry,  as  tlie  great  major- 
ity of  customers  are  of  this  class. 

As  was  said  above,  the  chief  reason  for 
the  high  valuation  placed  on  Attn  and  Atka 
baskets  is  that  these  places  arc  so  inaccessi- 
ble, and  so  far  from  the  beaten  track  of 
vessels,  that  it  will  not  pay  to  send  a  vessel 
out   solely   for  the   purposes   of   collection. 


Chemofski 


Figure  VII.    Types  of  Unalaska  Island  baskets 
Maktisbin  Makusliiii  Rriirka  Muku>hiii 


gaudy  imitations  of  better  baskets  made  at 
other  places.  In  fact,  if  the  collector  ob- 
tains a  basket  which  is  such  a  hybrid  as  to 
defy  classification,  he  will  be  safe  in  putting 
it  down  as  a  product  of  Unalaska.  Of 
course,  such  baskets  are  all  made  to  sell,  and 
these  monstrosities  are  simph'  the  result  of 
competition  and  the  desire  to  invent  some- 
thing new  that  will  attract  those  who  know 


Communication  with  the  outside  world  oc- 
curs twice  a  year,  once  when  a  schooner, 
owned  by  a  trader  living  at  Atka,  goes  out 
early  in  the  spring,  and  a  little  later  at  the 
arrival  of  the  revenue  cutter,  which  is  sent 
out  eacli  year  to  look  after  the  welfare  of 
tiic  people.  The  owmr  of  the  schooner 
takes  out  supplies  for  the  year,  and,  in  turn, 
brings  away  baskets  and  furs.      Tiie  natives 

5Sl 


Fii^urc  VIII.     .Mfikini;  an  Atrii  "  .Irawstriiisr ' 


58£? 


PiiTure  IX.     Iiitrritu-  uf  ;i  "  harnliara,"  at  Attn 


ALEUTIAN    IJASKKTRV 


are  wliolly  dependent  on  tlio  trader  for  those 
supplies,  wliile  he  practically  owns  the  pop- 
ulation, keeping  it  in  (!ri)t  most  of  the  time. 
He  never  fails  to  get  out  early  in  the  spring, 
knowing  how  few  baskets  would  be  left  if 
tiie  cutter  should  chance  to  arrive  first.  But 
the  natives  know  that  the  cutter  will  soon 
arrive,  and  tiiey  keep  hidden  all  the  baskets 
that  the}-  dare. 

These  people  are  pleasant  to  deal  witli 
and  speak  Englisii  well  enough  to  be  easily 
understood.  They  are  inclined  to  favor 
the  officers  of  the  cutter,  and,  as  a  rule,  never 
make  them  pay  more  than  twice  as  much  as 
the  trader,  unless  they  are  bad  at  a  bargain. 
Like  all  natives,  thej'  arc  good  merchants, 
and  appear  uttei-ly  indifferent  whether  they 
trade  or  not,  and.  in  fact,  act  as  if 
they  were  doing  a  favor,  when  they  bring 
out  a  basket  which  thej'  are  really  longing 
to  sell.  It  is  slow  work  dealing  with  them, 
and  impossible  to  get  all  the  baskets  they 
have  to  sell,  in  less  than  three  or  four  days, 
as  they  never  bring  out  moi"e  than  one  at  a 
time,  and  as  each  one  wants  to  see  what  kind 
of  bargains  the  others  are  making.  How- 
ever, they  do  not  object  to  having  their 
baraharas  rummaged,  and  as  this  is  by  far 
the  quickest  method,  it  is  usually  employed, 
for  after  the  b/isket  is  found,  there  is  never 
any  trouble  in  making  a  purchase. 

UT  SKIN  AS  .MASTER  OF  PROSE 

Tt  •     prove    my    assertions    regarding 
]{uskin,  I  take  a  well-known  piece 
r)f  his  early  writing,  the  old  Tower 
of    Calais    Church,    a    passage    which    has 
haunted  my  memory  for  nearly  forty  years : 
"The  large  neglect,  the  noble  unsightlincss  of  it; 
the  record  of  its  years  written  so  visibly,  vet  with- 


out sifrn  of  weakness  or  decay;  its  stern  wasteness 
and  gloom,  eaten  away  by  the  Channel  winds,  anil 
over-grown  with  the  bitter  sea  grasses;  its  slides  and 
tiles  all  shaken  and  rent,  and  yet  not  falling;  its 
desert  of  brick-work,  full  of  l)olts,  and  boles,  and 
ugly  fissures,  and  yet  strong,  like  a  l)are  brown  rock: 
its  carelessness  of  what  any  one  thinks  or  feels  about 
it;  putting  forth  no  claim,  having  no  beauty,  nor 
desirableness,  pride,  nor  grace;  yet  neither  asking 
for  pity;  not,  as  ruins  are,  useless  and  piteous,  feelilv 
or  fondly  garrulous  of  better  days;  l>ut  useful  still, 
going  through  its  own  daily  work  as  some  old  fish- 
erman, beaten  gray  l)y  storm,  yet  drawing  liis  daily 
nets:  so  it  stands,  with  no  complaint  al)0ut  its  past 
youth,  in  blanched  and  meagre  massiveness  and  ser- 
viccablcncss,  gathering  human  soids  together  under- 
neath it ;  the  sound  of  its  bells  for  prayer  still  rolling 
through  its  rents;  and  the  gray  peak  of  it  seen  far 
aoross  the  sea,  principal  of  the  three  that  rise  above 
the  waste  of  surfy  sand  and  hilloeked  shore, — the 
lighthouse  for  life,  and  the  belfry  for  labor,  and 
this — for  patience  and  praise." 

Tliis  passjige  I  take  to  be  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  examples  of  the  "pathetic  fal- 
lacy" in  our  language.  Perhaps  the 
"pathetic  fallacy"  is  second-rate  art;  the 
passage  is  too  long;  two  hundred  eleven 
words,  alas !  w  ithout  one  full  stop,  and  more 
than  forty  commas  and  other  marks  of 
jiunctnation — it  has  trop  or  choscs — it  has 
redundancies,  tautologies,  and  artifices,  if 
we  are  strictly  severe — but  what  a  picture, 
what  pathos,  wh;it  subtlety  of  observation, 
what  nobilit}'  of  association — and  withal 
how  complete  is  the  unity  of  impression ! 
How  mournful,  how  stately  is  the  cadence, 
most  harmonious  and  yet  peaceful  is  the 
phraseology,  and  liow  wonderfully  do 
liiought,  the  antique  history,  the  picture, 
the  nnisical  bars  of  the  whole  piece  combine 
in  beauty.  A  wonderful  bit  of  word-paint- 
ing— and,  perhaps,  word-painting,  at 
least  on  a  big  canvas,  is  not  strictly  lawful 
■ — but  such  a  picture  as  few  poets  and  no 
prose-writer  lias  surpassed ! 


.OflS 


584 


.1    CUAITS.MAX    IIOrSE 


A     CllAFTS.AlAN      HOUSE.     SKlilKS 
OF  liHik  NUMBER  ;}. 

TO  build  the  detached  lioiise  is  a  prob- 
lem which  never  loses  its  attractions 
for  architects.  However  often  it 
maj-  be  presented,  it  is  ahva3-s  new, 
bec;iuso  it  permits  such  infinite  variety  of 
treatment.  Skilfully  handled,  the  house  be- 
comes a  part  of  its  surroundings  to  the  point 
of  seeming  titting  and  necessary-  to  them  :  the 
work  of  man  which  supplements  and  com- 
pletes the  work  of  nature. 

With  the  development  of  the 
means  of  rapid  transit,  the  prol)- 
lem,  within  a  few  years,  has  mul- 
tiplied its  interest  almost  be- 
yond conception.  "There  is  no 
more  near  or  far."  The  man 
who  was  once  "cabined  and  con- 
fined" in  the  city,  and  daily 
led  by  that  sternest  of  all  jail- 
ors, custom,  from  the  brick  or 
brown  stone  prison  of  his  resi- 
dence to  the  granite  fortress  of 
his  offices,  has  now  taken  "the 
key  of  the  fields."    The  trolley 

car  has  provided  him  with  the  

means  of  escape.  The  word 
suburban  has  lost  its  meaning 
through  the  broadening  of  the 
idea  which  it  represents.  The  conception  of 
groups  of  houses  clinging  to  the  skirts  of  a 
city, as  suppliants  for  municipal  advantages, 
has  passed  awav',  to  be  replaced  by  the  more 
progressive  scheme  of  the  metropolitan  dis- 
trict, which  utilizes  the  centralized  activities 
of  the  cities  for  the  comfort,  convenience  and 
culture  of  large  areas  of  scattered  popula- 
tion. 

So,  in  accordance  with  the  new  manner  of 


life  made  possible  i)y  scientific  and  social 
progress,  the  suburban  house  has  acquired  a 
wider  meaning  and  a  greater  importance. 
The  term  can  now  l)e  applied  to  any  detached 
dwelling,  whether  situated  in  the  immediate 
neighborhood  of  a  large  city  or  town,  or  yet 
in  a  village,  or  at  the  side  of  a  country  road  ; 
since  these  various  points,  under  the  new 
S3'stem  of  centralization,  have  become  equal- 
ly suburban:  that  is,  equally  \Mi(lcr  the  pro- 
tection and  patronage  of  the  more  or  less 
distant  citv. 


ri?OrsT    CLElVATION 

With  this  understanding  of  a  term,  which, 
but  for  the  offered  explanation,  might  be 
received  in  a  limited  sense.  The  Craftsman 
presents  the  third  liouse  of  the  Series  of 
1904. 

Unlike  its  two  predecessors,  the  house  de- 
scribed and  illustrated  in  the  present  number 
is  in  no  wise  restricted  as  to  its  proper  local- 
ity. For  it  will  be  remembered  that  certain 
exterior  features  of  the  first  dwelling  sug- 
ars 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


iSHIII 


.g!ii':__ ,  JiD 


i    H    i  ^ 


■i^aaj 


'■  ■--     ^-t 


MT'ifci 


SIDC      ELEVATION 


wm 


@ 

N 

'ElJffl'] 


3iDC_    Ei_Ev/KTlor- 


586 


A   CRAFTSMAN    HOUSE 


gested  a  region  characterized  by  briglit  suii- 
liglit  and  deep  sliadows,  like  tlie  Pacific  slope, 
and  tiiat  tiie  second  sclienie  was  peculiar) v 
fitted  to  accent  the  view  offered  by  the  gray 
weatiier  of  the  Atlantic  coast;  while,  at  the 
same  time,  no  feature  of  either  desijin  was  so 
pronounced  as  to  detract  from  the  general 
usefulness  and  adaptability-  of  tlie  whole. 


color  as  those  of  the  house  and  are  laid  in  a 
similar  manner.  The  latter  might,  as  time 
passes,  be  covered  witli  some  species  of  light 
vine,  and,  in  this  way,  give  an  added  interest 
to  the  effect  of  the  whole.  Barriers  of  this 
kind  are  to  be  recommended,  not  only  for  the 
protection  which  they  afford  against  ma- 
rauders, both  human  and  animal,  but,  also. 


from  an  artistic  point  of  view;  since  thev 

TIIE  house  now  presented  is  to  be  erect-     serve  the  purpose  of  the  frame  toward  the 
ed  upon  a  lot  of  ample  size  and  to      picture:  that  is,  they  bind  together  and  unifv 
face  the  South  or  the  South-East ;     house  and  landscape.    Indeed,  too  much  em- 
having  a  garden  upon  its  West  side  to  which      phasis  can  not  bo  laid  upon  tlie  surroundings 
a  flight  of  steps  descends  from 
the  living  room. 

It  is  to  be  built  up  to  the  sec- 
ond storj-  of  common  hard- 
burned  bricks,  with  the  use  of 
those  which  vary  from  deep  red 
to  shades  of  rich  reddish  brown  ; 
as  by  this  means  an  interesting 
play  of  color  is  assured  for  the 
walls,  especially  when  they  stand 
in  full  sunshine.  The  bricks  are 
laid  with  wide  joints  of  dark 
brown  (almost  black)  mortar; 
the  joints  being  slightly  raked 
out  to  soften  the  effect. 

The  rear  wing  and  the  entire 
second  story  are  shingled  and 
stained  a  deep  brown,  like  that 
of  weathered  oak  :  this  color  pro-  TCAfe     ELUtVATIOt^ 

ducing  with  the  varied  tones  of  the  brick-  of  a  dwelling  ;  for  all  details  :  the  box  hedges, 
work  a  harmony  most  grateful  to  the  eye.  the  flower-beds,  the  running  vines,  the  basins 
The  cornice  and  the  moldings  are  stained  or  with  their  water  jets  and  their  aquatic  plants, 
painted  with  a  similar  brown,  while  the  sash  add  so  many  distinctive  marks  of  ownership 
complete  the  refined  exterior  color-scheme  and  personality, 
with  a  note  of  green,  which,  by  way  of  con- 
trast, heightens  the  ruddy  effects  of  the  The  interior  of  the  house  is  treated  in 
bricks.  The  walls  forming  the  front  bar-  simple,  direct  style.  The  principal,  or  liv- 
rier  of  the  lot  are  of  the  same  material  and      ing  room,  ample  in  size  and  conveniently  ar- 

5S7 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


3tf7V*M-HT5       \A.<^C> 


HA  IS 


rilt5T-  FLOOf?  •  PLAN 


SECOND -rUOOf^-  PLAM 


ranged,  is  finished,  as  are  also  the  hall  and 
the  dining  room,  in  white  oak,  which  has 
been  fumed  to  a  light,  soft  brown  ;  tlie  floors 
being  slightly  darker  than  the  other  por- 
tions of  the  woodwork.  In  this  room,  the 
plaster  of  the  frieze  and  of  the  ceiling  is  left 
in  the  gray  and  rough  "under  the  float ;" 


thus  affording  a  neutral  tone  which  never 
becomes  fatiguing  to  the  sight. 

The  hearth  and  the  facing  of  the  mantel 
are  in  green  Grueby  tiles,  this  color  being 
one  of  the  principal  elements  of  the  decora- 
tive scheme. 

The  walls  are  covered  with  linen  canvas  in 


588 


589 


590 


A   CRAFTSMAN    HOUSE 


It  is  glrt/eil  ill  dull,  ()iiict  colors  liarmonizing 
witli  the  walls,  which  are  here  treated  in 
Japanese  grass  cloth  of  a  gray-green  shade. 
Tlic  stair-railing  is  paneled  for  the  greater 
part  of  its  height,  with  the  toj)  finished  by  a 
■ilinplc  screen,  and  the  newel  post,  formed  by 
.1  plain  pillar,  serving  as  a  pedestal  for  a  jar 
of  flowers. 

'J'lie  dining  room  offers  the  feature  of  a 
sideboard  built  into  the  wall:  a  device  wliicli 


Living  room;  design  for  wiill-rovfrini: 
iiig  an<I  iu*«'dlc\vork 


in  steni'ii- 


Gobelin  blue,  stenciletl  with  a  wheel-and- 
bird-design,  in  which  the  eyes  of  the  birds 
and  the  two  discs  are  embroidered  in  vcllow 
linen  floss. 

The  curtains,  hanging  in  straight  folds  to 
tlie  sills,  are  in  green  linen  with  self-colored 
stripes  in  a  different  tone.  The  rug  repeats 
the  green  and  the  blue ;  the  first  color  serv- 
ing as  a  background,  with  the  border  and 
the  small  figures  in  different  shades  of  l)oth 
colors. 

The  furniture  is  of  dark  gray-brown  oak  ; 
the  window  and  chair  cushions,  together  with 
the  top  of  the  library  table,  being  of  green 
leather.  To  tiie  heavier  jjieces  are  added  a 
few  willow  chairs,  with  frames  stained  in 
golden  green,  and  cushions  made  from  the 
same  material  as  that  of  the  curtains. 

In  this  room  the  electric  liffhtins  fixtures 
are  of  wrought  iron,  with  dark  copper  lan- 
terns and  straw-colored  glass  shades. 

The  hall  is  so  planned  that  tlie  stairs  and 
vestibule  enclose  a  space  which  may  be  used 
as  a  reception  room.  A  staircase  window- 
adds  interest  to  this  division  of  the  Iiousc. 


I)inlni:  riKiin;  ih-^iu'n  fnr  wall-rt.vrrint;  in  sti- 

:ill.l    h.'.'.ll.'»..rl. 


iii'ilinL' 


THE    CRAP^TSMAN 


thus  becomes  both  structural  ami  decorative, 
and  is,  therefore,  greatly  to  be  recoinineiid- 
ed.  The  windows  at  the  rear  of  this  room 
open  upon  a  commodious  porch  which,  if 
desired,  may  be  enclosed  for  a  breakfast 
room.  The  dining  room  is  not  directly 
connected  with  the  living  room,  since,  in  so 
small  a  house,  the  domestic  service  is  accom- 
plished more  quietly  and  privately  through 
the  separation  in  the  present  plan. 

The  ceiling  of  the  dining  room  is  covered 
bv  a  heavy  cotton  canvas  painted  in  light 
tan  color,  and  ])aneleil  with  oaken  strips 
throe  inches  in  width  and  three-quarters  of 
an  inch  in  thickness.  The  walls  are  here 
covered  with  golden  brown  linen  canvas, 
w  liicli  is  stenciled  with  a  jileasing  design  in 
old  blue,  a  much  lighter  green,  and  notes  of 
clean  yellow ;  the  latter  appearing  in  the 
small  tufts,  which  are  embroidered  in  yellow 
linen  floss.  The  curtains  are  also  in  yellow  ; 
while  the  floor  rug  shows  a  brown  center, 
with  old  blue  as  the  second  most  important 
color-element,  and  details  in  green  and 
vellow. 


and  a  private  connection  with  the  bath.  It 
is  intended  for  family  use  and  is  most  com- 
fortable and  homelike.  The  remaining  bed- 
rooms of  the  second  story,  although  smaller, 
are  yet  conveniently  appointed,  and  if  still 
more  sleeping  rooms  be  required,  two  may 
be  located  on  the  third  floor ;  otherwise  the 
entire  upper  story  may  be  converted  into  a 
study  or  a  smoking  room. 

From  this  detailed  description,  it  may  be 
seen  that  the  simplicity  expressed  in  the 
elevation  is  not  falsified  by  the  interior,  and 
that  the  house  may  justly  lay  claim  to  the 
title  of  a  home. 

It  remains  but  to  fix  the  cost  of  building, 
which,  varying  somowliat  with  local  condi- 
tions, should  in  no  case  exceed  five  thousand 
five  lumdred  dollars,  and  this  sum,  which 
can  not  be  characterized  as  unreasonable, 
grows  still  more  alluring  through  the  as- 
surance that  the  house,  if  finished  as  here 
suggested,  will  have  no  need  of  important 
repairs  for  a  long  period  to  come. 


The  arrangements  for  service  arc  well 
planned  and  complete :  the  pantry  being 
large  and  so  placwl  that  it  isolates  tiie  re- 
mainder of  the  ijuilding  from  the  noise  and 
the  odors  of  the  kitchen.  In  these  portions 
of  tlie  house  the  cases  are  left  without  panel- 
ing, and  the  walls  arc  covered  with  linoleum 
havine:  metal  moldino-s  at  the  floor-line. 
The  room  for  the  single  maid  servant  is  lo- 
cated in  the  second  story. 

The  jjrincipal  bedroom  of  the  house  is 
situated  over  the  lixing  room.  It  is  large 
and  briglit,  and  is  provided  with  an  attrac- 
tive  fireplace.      It    has    ample    closet-space 

592 


IN  a  community-  regulated  only  by  laws  of 
demand  and  supply,  but  protected  from 
open  violence,  the  persons  who  become 
rich  are,  generallj'  speaking,  industrious, 
resolute,  proud,  covetous,  prompt,  method- 
ical, sensible,  unimaginative,  insensitive,  and 
ignorant.  The  persons  who  remain  poor 
are  the  entirelv  foolish,  the  entirely  wise,  the 
idle,  the  reckless,  the  humble,  the  thought- 
ful, the  dull,  the  imaginative,  the  sensitive, 
the  well  informed,  the  improvident,  the  ir- 
regularly and  impulsively  wicked,  the  clum- 
sy knave,  the  open  tliief,  and  the  entirely 
merciful,  just  and  godly  person. 

—  L'nio  tliia  Last,  John  Eiifkin 


cotta(;ks  and  content 


CONCERNING    COTTAGES    AND 
CONTENT:     ALICE   M.   RATHBONE 

TOGETHER  with  the  rank  growtli 
of  luxury  in  modern  life,  there 
flourishes  the  tonic  herb  simplicity. 
Only  the  resolve  to  secure  a  bit  of 
this  spreading  root,  on  the  part  of  natures 
in  full  accord  with  simplicity,  would,  at  first 
thought,  seem  necessary  to  its  possession  ; 
hut  it  happens,  unfortunately  for  many, 
that  the  simple  life,  in  its 
highest  sense,  is  alwa^'s  just 
out  of  reach,  because  of  over 
nuich  simplicity  of  income. 

"To  live  content  with  small 
means"  comes  first,  with  much 
significance,  in  Channing's 
beautiful  "Symphony ;"  ncv- 
crtHeless,  if  peace  and  comfort 
are  to  dwell  with  us,  a  restful 
abiding  place  is  needful : 
hence,  this  proposition:  tin 
small  income,  plus  an  inexpon 
sive  cottage,  equals  content. 
This    is    largely    a    woman's 


problem,  altiiough  there  come 
to  mind  instances  like  that  of 
the  old  .sea-captain  who  drift- 
ed happily  with  his  lovely  wife 
into  a  pretty  cottage  on  his 
son-in-law's     estate.        There 
they   rounded  out  their  lives 
in  their  own  w-ay,  with  loving 
grandchildren    close    at   hand 
to    pet    and    sjjoil,    while    yet 
they  were  secure  in  the  blessed 
(|uiet    of    their    own    fireside, 
when      just     to     be     together 
seemed  the  best  possible  of  all 
fates. 
It  is,  however,  the  middle-aged   woman 
stranded  in  some  forlorn  hall-bedroom,  or 
in,  yet  not  of,  the  home  of  others,  who  would 
most  welcome  the  dignity  and  content  to  be 
given  b}'  a  home  of  her  own,  whicli  might  be 
shared  by  a  relative  or  close  friend  in  similar 
need. 

Let  us  suppose  this  woman  to  be  well- 
gifted  with  culture,  domestic  tastes  and  in- 
dependent spirit ;  one  who,  although  poorly 
endowed  with  this  world's  goods,  can  go  to 


593 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


her  dictionary,  and  read  without  dismay  the 
true  definition  of  cottage:  knowing  that,  if 
it  come   witliin  her  very   small  moans,  the 


'iiumble  habitation"  must  be  located  ^^here 
land  is  of  low  value, — probably  in  some 
quiet  little  village.  Here  is  simplicity  to 
test  the  soul. 

If  overburdened  with  bric-a-brac  and  fine 
clothes,  the  inhabitant  of  such  a  cottage 
would  find  herself  miserably  cramped;  but 
the  woman  lightly  laden  with  what  she 
"knows  to  be  useful  or  believes  to  be  beau- 
tiful," has  room  for  development  in  the 
narrowest  limits.  As  regards  location,  the 
woman  of  culture  is  too  resourceful  to  find 
village  life  uninteresting,  and  the  village 
has  need  of  licr  powers  and  personality. 

A]u\  so.  seeing  large  possibilities  in  a 
small  income  and  a  cottage, — could  one  bo 
foiuul  to  fit  the  other, — our  seeker  for  a 
modest  roof-treo  sets  out  upon  her  quest  for 
a  house-space  as  small  as  can  he  devised  for 
the  comfort  of  two  ])ersons ;  a  house  placed, 
with  its  little  garden  plot,  amid  pleasant 
surroundings,  and  obtainable  for  the  very 

591 


low  rent  on  w  liicli  her  hope  of  a  brighter  life 
depends. 

But  there  are  cottages  and  cottages.  If 
this  pilgrim  of  hope  follow  the  direction  of 
the  guide-post  pointing  cottageward,  she 
may  find  herself  before  a  Newport  palace, 
and,  from  that  extreme,  down  the  descend- 
ing scale  of  habitations,  she  will  rarely  come 
upon  the  object  of  her  search:  namel}',  the 
veritable  cottage,  which  because  humble, 
needs  not  to  be  wholly  commonplace,  since 
simplicity  lends  itself  most  kindly  to  artistic 
touches  everywhere. 

An  interesting  attempt  to  solve  our  pro- 
posed problem  was  made,  a  few  years  since, 
in  England,  by  Miss  Mary  Campbell  Smith, 
who  made  a  business  of  renting  detached  or 
semi-detached  cottages  of  four  or  five  rooms, 
to  gentlewomen  of  scanty  means.  Her  cap- 
ital being  small.  Miss  Smith  found  it  best, 
at  first,  merely  to  rent  and  improve  laborers' 
dwellings.      These    she    furnished    simply. 


■  1     1            lO' 

i*^ 

1- 

BED 

1=1 


&ED 


comfortably  and  prettily,  providing  always 
for  two  tenants.  Two  friends,  says  Miss 
Smith,   if   capable   and   domestic,   can   live 


CKAFTSMAX    (  ()'ITA(;F.S 


iiior,  jiiid  for  all  the  indoor 
pleasures  of  winter.  Tims 
for  women  loving  homo, 
hooks  and  (^aniens,  a  life 
approaching  the  ideal  might 
be  led  in  a  cottage,  the  homo 
of  content,  which  "is  our  host 
having." 

'J'liL-  spirit  iii.iy  open  uiiifrs  as 
wide  as  the  firmament,  in  a  cell  as 
narrow  as  the  liiiman  lianil. 

— .11  fled  dc  iltisuct 


comfortably,  on  ,i  very  small  income,  in  one 
of  these  comjiact  little  homes,  which  have 
proved  a   distinct  success. 

This  would  be  a  practical  and  beneficent 
experiment  for  the  woman  of  large  means  to 
make,  in  our  own  country,  in  behalf  of  tlio 
woman  of  small  moans:  both  women  holding 
to  the  cottage  in  its  true  sense;  the  one  for 
the  safety  of  her  investment,  the  other  for 
the  safety  of  her  peace  of  mind,  to  be  as- 
sured by  living  within  a  fixed 
income,  however  small  it 
might  be. 

More  and  more  do  wc  see 
two  women  of  comfortable 
means  joining  forces  to  make 
one  more  pleasant  home  in  the 
world,  and  if,  by  means  of  the 
cottage  -  of  -  the  -  low  -  rental, 
modest  incomes  could  do  the 
same,  wh}',  so  nnich  the  better 
for  the  world ! 

An  advantage  of  limited 
house  space  is  that  cares  les- 
sen ;  leaving  hours  of  leisure 
for  out-of-door  life   in   sum- 


CKin.MN    (  KAFTSMAX  COTT.\GES 

IN  coiiformitv-  with  numerous  requests 
wliich  have  been  recently  received,  The 
Craftsman  ])resents  a  soi'ios  of  illus- 
tr.it  ions  and  plans  of  small  cottages 
designed  to  aH'ord  a  safe  investment  and  a 
comfortable  home  to  one  or  two  persons  of 
narrow  means.  The  purposes  governing 
till'  work  have  been  fo  employ  .solid,  econom- 


i9i 


THE    CKAFTS'VrAN 


ical  iiijitcrials,  nml  to  iiriKluc-t  tlioi-cfroiii  that 
bcautv  wliifli  is  tlic  (■oiin)aiii()n.  ratluT  tlian. 


as    Is    Idii    iif'tin    liilir\f<l,    llif    ojjpoiR'lit    of 
sllll|)llClt  V. 

Altliouf^'li  ])i-Iinai'ily  iiitendud  as  dwellings 
for  t«()  single  women,  these  cottages  might 
ri|iiallv  well  serve  as  the  first  home  of  mar- 
ri<(l  (■oiii)les  who  hegin  their  life  in  common 
ii|)on  an  annual  ineonie  not  exceeding  five 
Inindred  dollars. 

'["he  huilding  conIs  of  any  one  of  these 
houst-<  would,  it  is  believed,  fall  below  nine 
hundred  dollars;  thus  making  the  costs  of 
ownership — that  is,  those  involved  in  the 
interest  ujion  the  invi'stment,  the  insurance, 
and  tin'  taxes — such  as  niight  easily  be 
borne  by  persons  having  the  above-men- 
tioned vearly  resources. 

It  is  hojied  that  tlie  designs  will  speak  for 
themsehcs.  by  creating  in  those  who  shall 
see  them  the  desiiv  of  ownership:  verbal 
ex jilanations  l)eing  necessary  alone  to  rec- 
oiiiiiniid  the  Use  of  errtaiii  materials. 

In   all   the  i-le\ations  .shown,  the  exterior 


u.alls  are  faced  \\ith  California  red  wood 
shingles,  wliich  have  been  dipped  in  oil  .and 
thus  gi\en  a  deep,  rich  brown  tone.  The 
roofs  also  are  shingled,  the  wood  here  being 
left  without  stain. 

'I'lie  interior  finish  in  all  the  cottages  is 
of  whitewood,  which  is  made  to  assume  a 
soft,  didl,  satin  finish  by  the  application  of 
lacquer.  It  may  be  added  that,  in  order  to 
assure  an  effect  suited  to  the  size  of  the 
houses,  as  well  as  to  minimize  expense,  all 
woodwork  is  made  as  light  as  possible.  The 
doors  are  of  hard  pine,  stained  to  accord 
with  the  color-scheme:  the  cost  of  the  supe- 
rior wodd  .and  the  treatment  being  less  than 
thai  of  ;i  i-heaper  fioor  for  which  a  carpet 
would  be  necessary. 

'I'he  walls  and  ceilings  are  of  ]ilain  plas- 
ter, tinted  in  wider  colors,  or  preferably 
]);iinted.  and  the  fire-places  are  huilt  witli 
ordinary,   h.ard-buriied  brick. 

'i'he  construction  must  receive  especial 
attention,  so  that  the  joints  be  weather- 
tight  :  since  all  the  rooms  have  cxi)osure  on 


B  ■=>Eca^c>  /^/.o  o/t /=»z, ^// 

two  sides,  at  least,  and,  in  consequence,  are 
colder  than  those  of  a  larger  building,  in 


.")i)(i 


CRAFTSMAN    C  ( )  ITACiKS 


wliicli  one  room  serves  to  pro- 
tect another.  This  precau- 
tion taken,  a  further  economy 
of  heat  may  be  insured  by 
limiting  tlie  ceilings  to  the 
height  of  seven  and  one-half 
feet. 

The  ])lan  anil  the  choice  of 
building  materials  being  thus 
atloptcd,  personal  require- 
ments may  yet  be  amply  main- 
tained, and  each  home  acquire 
.'i  distinct,  individual  appear- 
ance: becoming,  in  all  that 
concerns  construction  and  use 
of  color  the  equal  of  a  house  of 
ton  times  its  monetary  value.      ^' 

If  the  interiors  here  presented  be  exam- 
ined, it  will  be  seen  that  certain  constructive 
features,  while  serving  tlieir  original  pur- 
pose,  also   furin'sh  and   decorate.      This   is 


ed  accent  to  the  otherwise  too  dominant 
brown  of  the  woodwork.  The  fireplaces 
thus  treated,  form  in  two  ways  the  focus  of 
the  rooms  in  which  they  arc  situated :  firstly, 
by  offering  warmth,  light  and  companion- 


true  of  the  chinme\'  pieces,  with  their  brick      ship,  and  secondly,  by  providing  aesthetic 
of  varied,  ruddy  color,  which  gives  the  need-      gratification  to  the  eye,  through  their  build- 

597 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


ing  material,  and  also  througli  the  means 
which  they  provide  for  the  display  of  ob- 
jects of  glass,  burnished  metal,  or  other 
brilliant  sui'face  chording  with  the  glow  of 
fire. 

To  emphasize  a  previous  expression,  it 
may  be  said  that  these  important  features 
of  construction,  as  well  as  the  thoughtful 
arrangement  of  tlie  windows,  doors  and 
stair-i-ails,  both  furnish  and  decorate;  thus 


leaving  a  much  less  than  usual  need  of 
movable  pieces.  Of  these  latter,  the  greater 
number  can  be  made  by  the  local  joiner,  or 
even  by  an  amateur,  especially  if  use  be 
made  of  the  workins;  drawings  which  illus- 
trate  the  first  two  articles  of  the  Manual 
Training  Series,  now  current  in  Tiie  Crafts- 
man. 

Seen  when  owned  by  persons  of  taste  and 
domestic  sentiment,  when  enlivened  by 
growing  plants  and  that  agreeable  scatter- 
ing of  small  objects  which  is  the  evidence  of 
occupanc}^  these  "humble  habitations" 
grow  eloquent  upon  the  text  of  "Cottages 
and  Contentment." 


RUSKIN'S  EIGHTIETH  BIRTHDAY 

TO-DAY  the  last  survivor  of  the  great 
writers  in  the  first  half  of  the  Vic- 
torian reign  attains  the  patriarchal 
age  of  fourscore  years.  John  Rus- 
kin  keeps  his  eightieth  birthday.  It  is  sixty 
years  since  he  published  his  first  piece — the 
prize  poem  of  1839 — a  student's  exercise,  it 
is  true, but  one  that  was  soon  followed  by  the 
first  decisive  work  of  the  "Ox- 
ford graduate."  For  fifty 
years — from  the  early  "New- 
digato"  down  to  the  last 
memoir  in  PraetcrUa — a  tor- 
rent of  tliouglit,  fancy,  and 
exhortation  continued  to  pour 
forth  from  the  fiery  spirit 
endowed  with  the  eye  of  the 
iiawk.  And  now  for  ten 
years  the  old  man  eloquent 
has  kept  silent  even  from  good 
words,  resting  in  profound 
t  those  he  loves,  softly  meditat- 
ing on  the  exquisite  things  of  nature  and  of 
art  that  surround  him ;  his  manifold  work 
ended,  his  long  life  crowned  and  awaiting 
its   final   consecrtaion ;   at   peace  with  God 

and  man 

A  great  French  writer,  whose  book  is  en- 
titled Ruskin  and  the  Religion  of  Beauty, 
tells  us  that  Ruskin  discusses  morality,  in- 
dustry and  religion  in  order  to  lead  us  up 
to  a  higher  sense  of  art.  It  would  be  more 
true  to  say  that  John  Ruskin  began  by 
pi-eaching  to  us  a  higher  sense  of  art,  in 
order  to  lead  us  to  a  truer  understanding  of 
morality,  industry,  religion  and  humanity'. 


calm  aiiioiu 


-Frederic  Harrison  in  London  Daily 
Chronicle,  February  8,  1899. 


598 


INDIANS    OI      rilK    SOlTinVEST 


THE  INDIANS  OF  THE  FRANCIS- 
CAN MISSIONS:  NUMBER  THREE 
OF  THE  SERIES,  THE  SPANISH 
:^IISSIONS  OF  THE  SOrTHWEST. 
BY   GEORGE  WH.VRTON   J.LMES 

WHO  were  the  Indians  for  whom 
the  Missions  were  estnbhsliod? 
Wliat  was  tlicir  hfe?  How 
(lid  tiioy  receive  the  Mission 
Fathers?  What  was  tlie  effect  of  tlie  Mis- 
sions upon  them?  What  is  their  condition 
to-day  ? 

These  are  tlie  questions  this  chapter  will 
seek  to  answer. 

Cahrillo  was  tlie  first  white  man  whom  we 
know  visited  the  Indians  of  the  coast  of 
California.  lie  made  his  memorable  jour- 
ney in  15iQ-Q.  In  1539,  IHloa  sailed  up 
the  Gulf  of  California,  and,  a  year  later, 
Alarcon  and  Diaz  explored  the  Colorado 
River,  possibly  to  the  point  where  Yuma 
now  stands.  These  three  men  came  in  con- 
tact with  the  Cocopalis  and  the  Yunias,  and 
possibly  with  other  tribes. 

Cahrillo  tells  of  the  Intlians  with  whom 
he  held  communication.  They  were  timid, 
and  somewhat  hostile  at  first,  but  easily  ap- 
peased. Some  of  them,  especially  those 
living  on  the  Islands  (now  known  as  San 
Clemente,  Santa  Catalina,  Anacapa,  Santa 
Barbara,  Santa  Rosa,  San  Miguel  and 
Santa  Cruz),  were  superior  to  those  found 
inland.  They  rowed  in  pine  canoes  having 
a  seating  capacity  of  twelve  or  thirteen  men, 
and  were  expert  fishermen.  They  dressed 
in  the  skins  of  animals,  were  rude  agricul- 
turists, and  built  for  themselves  shelters  or 
huts  of  willows,  tules  and  mud. 

\izcaino,  who  "rediscovered"  the  country' 
in  1602,  wrote  a  letter  to  the  King  of  Spain, 


dated  May  23,  1603,  in  which  he  thus 
speaks  of  the  Indians:  "This  land  has  a 
genial  climate,  its  waters  are  good,  and  it 
is  very  fertile,  to  judge  from  the  varied  and 
luxuriant  growth  of  trees  and  plants ;  for  I 
saw  some  of  the  fruits,  particularly  chest- 
nuts and  acorns,  which  are  larger  than  those 
of  Spain.  And  it  is  thickly  settled  with 
people  whom  I  found  to  be  of  gentle  disposi- 
tion, peaceable  and  docile,  and  who  can  be 
brought  readily  within  the  fold  of  the  Holy 
(xospcl  and  into  subjection  to  the  crown  of 
Your  Majestv'.  Their  food  consists  of 
seeds,  which  they  have  in  abundance  and 
variety,  and  of  the  flesh  of  game :  such  as 
bears,  bisons  and  deer,  which  are  larger  than 
cows,  and  of  neat  cattle,  and  many  other 
animals.  The  Indians  are  of  good  stature 
and  fair  complexion,  the  women  being  some- 
what smaller  in  size  than  the  men,  and  of 
pleasing  countenance.  The  clothing  of 
the  people  of  the  coast-lands  consists  of  the 
skins  of  the  sea-wolves  abounding  there, 
which  they  tan  and  dress  better  than  is  done 
in  Castile;  they  possess,  also,  in  great  quan- 
tity, flax  like  that  of  Castile,  hemp  and  cot- 
ton, from  which  they  make  fishing-lines 
and  nets  for  rabbits  and  hares.  They  have 
vessels  of  pine  wood  very  well  made,  which, 
having  fourteen  paddlemen  at  a  side,  they 
navigate  with  great  dexterity,  even  in  very 
stormy  weather.  I  was  informed  by  them 
and  many  others  whom  I  met  in  great  num- 
bers along  more  than  eight  hundred  leagues 
of  a  thickly  settled  coast,  that  inland  there 
are  great  communities,  which  they  invited 
me  to  visit  with  them." 

Spain's  treatment  of  the  Indians,  as  none 
can  denj',  was  kind,  considerate,  and  in- 
tended to  be  beneficial.  For  instance,  when 
^'izcaino  made  his  first  voyage  up  the  Gulf 

5»9 


,* 


oou 


INDIANS    OV   THE    SOl'TinVEST 


of  California  in  15!)6.  one  of  his  soldiers 
'"inconsiderately  struck  one  of  the  Indians 
in  file  hreast  with  the  butt  of  his  arquebus." 
Tliis,  naturally,  angfcrcd  the  Indians,  who 
bco-an  to  shoot  arrows  at  the  offender  and 
his  party.  In  order  to  defend  his  followers, 
without  injury  to  the  Indians,  Vizcaino 
(•••ilk-d  upon  his  soldiers  to  fire  their  weapons 
ill    the  air:   liopiiio-  thi^   loud   reports   woiild 


niany  of  them,''  while  the  rest  ran  a«.iy  to 
the  mountains. 

In  authorizing  this  explorer's  second  ex- 
pedition, the  Kinfif's  Council,  aniontj  niaiiv 
other  good  things,  ordered  that  Vizcaino  "be 
reproved  for  the  lack  of  prudence  shown  on 
his  last  voyage,  particularly  in  having  killed 
the  Indians,  as  he  relates  in  his  rej)ort,  and 
ill  lia\  iiig  allowed  the  soldier  who  struck  the 


A- 


tiik 


alarm  the  aborigines  and  prevent  further 
assault.  Instead  of  having  this  effect,  the 
noise  scared  them  for  a  few  minutes ;  and 
then,  seeing  no  injury  come  to  them,  they 
Hred  their  arrows  again:  this  time,  says  \'iz- 
caino,  "with  great  earnestness."  The  fight 
was  now  begun,  the  soldiers  fired  to  wound 
and   kill,  and  "there  fell   I   know    not  how 


Indian  with  tin:  butt  of  his  ar(|uebiis  to  go 
unpunished  :  that  he  treat  the  Indians  with 
f^rcat  lore  ami  teiKhTiie-ss.  viakiiif;  "'f^^  ^'^ 
them  in  order  to  attract  them  in  good  7eill  to 
the  Hoi//  Gospel,  not  permittinf^  injury  to 
he  done  to  them,"  etc.,  etc.  The  italics  are 
mine,  as  this  is  the  official  a\ithorization  for 
\'i/.caino's  journey   of  discovery,  and   it  is 


liDI 


<<J  < 


1-  '- 


-«l< 


^1^'  *■ 


;^^. 


(i02 


INDIANS    OF    TIIK    SOI    111  WEST 


well  to  recognize  the  humane  spirit  toward 
the  Indians  (at  least  it  was  such  ostcnsihlv) 
in  which  tlie  King  sent  out  his  explorers. 

Little  can\e  of  either  of  these  early  voy- 
ages except  to  establish  clearly  in  the  minds 
of  the  Spaniards  and  others  the  existence  of 
California.  For  soon  afterward  Sir  Fran- 
cis Drake  sailed  up  the  coast,  and  landed  in 
what  is  now  known  as  Drake's  Bay.  But 
])ra('tically  nothing  further  was  done  until 
the  inuiiding  of  the  Missions. 

Whatever  may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  it 
is  true  that  the  Indians  met  the  Fathers  with 
kindness  and  hospitality.  Naturally,  they 
were  curious  to  know  what  the  newcomers 
desired.  They  were  found  living  in  a  most 
simple  and  primitive  fashion,  and  in  describ- 
ing them  and  their  habits,  the  narrator  fell 
into  the  same  error  made  by  writers  of  to- 
day who  are  unfamiliar  w  ith  the  methods  of 
thought  of  tlie  Indian.  Everything  de- 
j)ends  upon  the  angle  of  vision.  To  see 
from  another's  point  of  view  is  given  the  few 
only.  For  example,  a  recent  writer,  in 
speaking  of  the  costume  of  the  aborigines 
says :  "The  male  inhabitants  went  entirely 
naked,  when  the  weather  was  warm,  and  even 
on  the  coldest  days  of  the  year,  the  only 
garment  likely  to  be  worn  was  a  cloak  of 
badly-tanned  rabbit  skins.  The  women 
were  partially  covered,  and  were  not  without 
some  sense  of  modesty."  The  thought  of 
this  writer  is  apparent.  The  nude  state  of 
the  men  was,  by  him.  regarded  as  censurable 
and  the  partial  clothing  of  the  women  as 
modesty.  Had  he  suggested  such  an  idea 
to  the  Indians  themselves,  they  would  have 
declared  it  ridiculous.  Modesty  to  them 
does  not  consist  in  the  wearing  or  the  laying 
aside  of  clothes. 

'J'he  principal  written  source  of  authority 


for  our  knowledge  of  the  Indians  at  the  time 
of  the  arrival  of  the  Fathers  is  Fray  Geron- 
iiiio  Boscana's  "Chinigchinich :  A  His- 
torical Account,  etc.,  of  the  Indians  of  San 
Juan  C'apistrano."  The  good  Father  saw 
things  from  his  individual  j)oint  of  view, 
and  tiuis  presented  them.  The  houses  of 
the  natives  were  rude  brush  shelters,  gencr- 
allv    conical    or    semi-s;lobular,    similar    to 


Kiiriiii'  1\  ■    A  Piilntiuirwii  m»ii,  wiih  iieanl  uiul 
iiioiistiu'lir 

J'ig.  J.  (wliich  was  Ijuiil  and  «as  occujiiod 
in  1899  by  a  very  aged  woman  in  Cahuilla). 
The  Indian  name  for  this  hut  of  jjoles  and 
tules  is  h'ish.  Often  these  structures  were 
covered  with  earth  (just  as  they  are  to- 
day), as  a  protection  against  the  cold  of 
winter. 

In  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  the  houses 
were  constructed  in  an  entirely  different 
way,  as  will  be  seen  from  Figures  II.  and 
III.      Figure    II.     ])resents    a    Ilavasupai 

603 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


summer  residence,  wliicli,  escept  for  a  few 
modern  indiccations,  might  well  represent  a 
dwelling  in  the  same  locality,  built  two  hun- 
dred years  ago.  The  rude  structure  is 
})ractically  open,  although,  at  one  end,  a 
covered-in  conical  portion,  somewliat  simi- 
lar to  Figure  I.,  is  added.  The  "stairway," 
or  ladder,  made  by  notching  a  cotton-wood 
pole,    reveals   the   primitive   quality    of   tlie 


Fi^'iir.'  V.    I  iM  !ii:iii  "f  till-  l\il;itiii!.'\v:i  irilir 

Indian  contrivances  and  the  sliglit  influence 
of  white  men's  methods  during  all  tliese 
years  of  intercourse. 

Figure  III.  is  of  a  Pima  dwelling,  and  is 
so  well  constructed  as  to  be  almost  liglit- 
2)roof,  when  the  doorway  is  closed. 

It  must  not  be  assumed  that  these  few 
illustrations  represent  all  the  types  of  dwell- 
ings wliich  were  in  use  among  the  California 
Indians  whoTi  the  priests  first  came  among 


tliem.  A  long  and  elaborate  chapter  with 
many  ilUistrations  miglit  be  written  upon 
tliis  subject;  but  the  tliree  pictures  here 
given  suggest  a  diversity  of  type  and  will 
serve  to  correct  the  popular  belief  that  all 
Indian  huts  are  alike. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  the  men  could 
nut  grow  beards.  Tlie  truth  is  that  they 
plucked  out  the  hairs  one  by  one,  using  a 
bivahc'  shell  as  pincers.  To-day,  many  of 
the  men  ;ill(>w  the  beard  to  grow.  Of  this 
cla->s  i^  the  Palatingwa,  re])rest'nted  in 
Figure  I\  .  rigurc  \.  shows  an  elderly 
man  of  the  same  people  witli  a  thiiuier 
beard,  the  condition  of  which  is  doubtless 
owing,  as  the  Indi:ins  believe,  to  the  long- 
continued  ])ractice  of  ])lucking  out  the 
liau'>. 

i\bii  and  women  alike  u.>ed  various  col- 
iu-i<\  pigments  (in  their  faces.  Red,  yellow 
and  blue  were  the  pi'incipal  colors  clioM'n, 
.■ind  tii-(i;iv.  at  their  festivals,  one  may  see 
thcM'  Iudian>  decorated  in  exactly  the  same 
f,-i>liion  that  their  ancestors  have  followed 
for  centuries. 

Theii'  food  was  of  the  crnde>t  and  >im- 
])le.st  character.  Whatever  they  could 
catch  thev  ate,  from  deer  or  bear  to  grass- 
hoppers, lizards,  rats  and  snakes.  In  bas- 
kets of  their  own  manufacture,  they  gath- 
ered all  kinds  of  wild  seeds,  and  after  using 
a  rude  j)rocess  of  threshing,  they  wninowed 
them,  as  shown  in  Figure  VL  They  also 
gathered  mesquite  beans  in  large  quantities  ; 
burning  them  in  pits  for  a  month  or  two,  in 
order  to  extract  from  them  certain  disagree- 
able flavors,  and  then  storing  them  in  large 
and  rudely  made  willow  granaries. 

Seeds,  mesquite  beans  and  dried  meat 
were  all  pounded  up  in  a  well  made  granite 
mortar,  on  the  top  of  which,  oftentimes,  a 


(iUl 


INDIANS    OF   THE    SOrTIIWKST 


basket  liopper  was  fixcil  hy  means  of 
pine  gum,  as  represented  in  Figure  ^'II. 
Some  of  these  mortars  were  hewn  from 
steatite,  or  soapstonc,  others  from  a  rough 
basic  rock,  ami  many  of  them  were  excecil- 
ingly  well  made  and  finely  shaped;  results 
re(juirino-  much  patience  and  no  small  artis- 
tic skill.  Oftentimes  these  mortars  were 
made  from  the  solid  granite  rocks  or  bould- 
ers, found  near  the  harvesting  and  winnow- 


Indian  hitl  himself,  after  having  prepared 
a  bare  spot  outside  his  shelter,  and  upon 
which  he  sprinkled  a  liberal  supply  of  seeds. 
In  his  hand  he  held  a  long  pole,  at  the  upper 
end  of  which  was  affixed  a  strong  but  small 
string;  the  other  end  being  threaded 
through  loops  affixed  to  the  pole.  The  pole 
was  then  thrust  out  among  the  seeds,  the 
string  being  formed  into  a  loop.  Then, 
imitating  the  call   of  the  birds,   it   w/is  not 


Fii:iir4-  Vr.     IikIihii  woiihmi  wiimuwiiit;  \vil<l  seeds 


ing  places,  and  I  have  photographed  many 
such  during  late  years. 

Birds  were  caught  in  a  most  ingenious 
manner.  One  method  is  crudely  suggested 
in  Figure  VIII.,  a  picture  of  an  abandoned 
decoy  shelter  which  I  found  above  the  Tule 
River  reservation,  a  few  years  ago.  With 
scnii-circular  arches  of  willow,  a  hiding- 
place  wa.s  made,  the  hoops  being  covered 
with    leafv   brush   or   weeds.      In   this   the 


long  before  doves,  quail  or  other  game  were 
attracted  to  the  place,  and,  seeing  the  seeds, 
alighted.  In  their  hopping  to  and  fro, 
some  of  them  invariably  stepped  into  the 
noose.  Quickly,  the  watching  Indian  pulled 
the  string  tight,  and,  as  quietly  as  possible, 
drew  back  the  snared  bird  into  his  shelter. 
Wringing  its  neck,  the  Indian  thrust  forth 
the  pole,  and  again  continued  the  operation, 
until  sufficient  game  was  secured.     In  a  later 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


article,  I  may  speak  of  other  methods  of  decoction  of  the  root  of  milk-weed,  in  order 
trapping  birds  and  animals  for  food.  to  promote  lacteal  secretions. 

At  times  there  were  special  foods  for  men  The  religion  of  these  tribes  was  very  sim- 

and  special  foods  for  women.  For  instance,  pic.  It  was  a  rude  kind  of  Nature  worship 
a  hunter  ate  the  legs  of  a  rabbit  or  a  deer,  with  personified  divinities ;  some  of  whom 
with  the  idea  that  thereby  he  would  gain  the  were  undoubted  human  heroes  possessing 
speed  displayed  bv  these  animals.      He  ate      niytliical     histories.      In     the     Journal     of 

American  Folk-Lore  for  Oc- 
tober 1903,  I  have  related  the 
story  of  one  of  these  demi- 
gods, Algoot  by  name,  who 
slew  a  cannibal  monster,  Tan- 
guitch,  and  who  still  terrorizes 
the  s\iper.-.titH)Us  Indians  of 
tlie  region  alxmt  ^Nfount  San 
Jacinto. 

'^J'licir  ceremonies  consisted 
of  smoking  the  propitiatory 
])ipe — the  ascending  smoke 
typifying  the  ascent  of  their 
prayers  to  Those  Above — 
dancing,  praying  and  sing- 
ing. Dancing  always  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the 
a'ods,  and,  havinff  their  inter- 
est  thus  aroused,  they  could 
not  fail  to  pay  heed  to  the 
petitions  presented  to  them. 

As  a  specimen  of  the  beliefs 

of  the  old  aborigines  here  is 

part  of  a  story  once  told  to 

nie  by  an  aged  Saboba  Indian, 

pictured  in  Figure  IX.   After 

describing  the  coming  of  his 

]>eople  to  Southern  California,  from  some 

far-away  land  over  the  sea,  and  the  varied 

adventures  of  these  lieroes,  he  continued: 

"But  when  Siwash,  the  god  of  earth,  looked 
around  and  saw  everything  revealed  by  the 
Women  refused  to  eat  salt  lest  it  turn  their  sun,  he  was  displeased ;  for  the  earth  was  bare, 
hair  gray ;  and  a  nursing  mother  took  a     level  and  monotonous,  and  there  was  nothing 


Fiifiire  VII.    A  iiinitar  with  li:iski't  liopj"'!' 

the  heart  of  the  mountain  lion,  that  he  might 
be  as  fearless  as  the  wild  beast  itself.  In 
eating  snakes,  the  Indian  desired  and  ex- 
pected the  gliding  and  noiseless  quality  of 
the   reptile   to  become   a   part   of   himself. 


INDIANS   OF   THE   SOrillWEST 


to  cheer  the  sight.      Wlio  could  love  a  world 
that  was  all  one  limitless  plain,  with  no  moun- 
tains, no  trees,  hills,  rocks,  rivers,  waterfalls, 
creeks,  animals,  reptiles,  no  birds,  nor  flow- 
ers?    There  were  many  of  our  people  that 
were  of  no  use.     So  Siwash  took  these,  and 
of  some  he  made  high  mountains,  of  some, 
smaller  mountains ;  of  others  he  made  rivers, 
creeks,  lakes  and  waterfalls;  of  still  others 
coyotes,  foxes,  deer,  antelope,  bear,  squir- 
rels, porcupines,  and  all  the  otiicr  animals. 
Then   he   made  out   of  other 
j)eoplo  all   tile  different   kinds 
of  snakes,  insects,  birds,  and 
fishes.    Then,  he  wanted  trees, 
plants  and  flowers,  and  so  he 
turned  some  of  the  people  into 
these.      Of  every  man  or  wo- 
man that  he  seized,  he  made 
something    according    to    the 
jierson's  value. 

"When  he  finished  his  work, 
he  had  made  a  beautiful  coun- 
try   of   this,    and   there   were 
many  things  that  my  people 
had  never  seen  before.      But  he 
had  used  up  so  many  men  and 
women  that  he  was  frightened. 
So  lie  made  a  new  lot  of  peo- 
ple, some  to  live  here,  there, 
and  anywhere.     And  he  gave  to  each  family 
its  own  language  and  tongue,  and  its  own 
place  to  live,  and  he  told  them  all  the  sad 
distress  that  would  come  upon  them  if  they 
mingled    their   tongues   by    intermarriage. 
Each  family  was  to  live  in  its  own  place, 
and  while  all  the  different  families  were  to 
be   friends,  one  to  the  other,  and  live  as 
brothers   bound    together   by    kinship    and 
concord,    there    was    to    be    no    mixing   of 
bloods. 


"Thus  was  settled  the  original  inhab- 
itants on  the  coast  of  Southern  California 
by  Siwash,  the  god  of  the  earth,  under  the 
leadership  of  Uuyot." 

In  hunting,  fishing,  preparing  their  wea- 
pons for  war  and  hunting,  playing  games 
of  skill,  chance,  strength  and  dexteritv',  oc- 
casionally' visiting  other  tribes,  sometimes 
stealing  a  bride  and  causing  war,  at  other 
times  engaging  in  a  quarrel  and  being  slain, 
tlic  male  Indians  passed  their  lives,  until  the 


Figure  X'lII.    Al>aiulonftil  bird-snare,  above  the  Tule  River 

advent  of  the  jjriests.  The  women  were  the 
home  makers,  the  food  producers  and  pre- 
parers, the  makers  of  baskets,  etc. 

These  Indians  were  polygamists,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  but  much  of  what  the  mission- 
aries and  others  have  called  their  obscenities 
and  vile  conversations,  were  tiie  simple  and 
unconscious  utterances  of  men  and  women 
whose  instincts  were  not  perverted.  It  is 
the  invariable  testimony  of  all  careful  ob- 
servers of  every  class  that  as   a   rule  the 


607 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


aliorioiiics  Were  healthy,  vigorous,  virile, 
and  cliaste,  until  tliey  became  demoralized 
by  the  whites.  With  many  of  tliem  certain 
ceremonies  had  a  distinct  flavor  of  sex  wor- 
shi}) :  a  rude  phallicisini  « Inch  exists  to  the 
})resent  day.  To  the  priests,  as  to  most 
modern  observers,  these  rites  were  offensive 
and  oiiscenc,  but  to  the  Indians  they  were 
only  the  natural  and  simple  prayers  for  the 


IX.     ,Io- 


*  iN'<ln>  Liii'cro,  a  rliap^ 
Sal>,,l,:i    In.iiMii^ 


fruitfulness  of  their  wives  and  of  the  other 
jiroducnig  forces. 

Most  of  these  tribes  had  a  distinct  concep- 
tion of  a  spirit  life,  but  no  idea  of  future 
ri'wards  and  jtunishments.  Their  nu'dicine- 
nieii  were  strange  mixtures  of  lierijalists, 
hydropathists,  masseurs,  faith-curists,  char- 
latans and  hypnotists.  A  successful  sha- 
nidii  united  all  characters  in  one.  Fisure 
X.  is  of  a  Cahuilla  medicine-man  or  Tinsai- 
\asli,      If  the  medicine-man  failed  often  to 

(i08 


restore  tlic  invalid  to  health,  or  his  patients 
died  with  too  great  frequency,  he  was  re- 
morselessly sent  upon  the  same  long  journey 
by  a  blow  of  a  battle-axe,  a  fierce  stab  of  a 
dagger,  or  a  carefully  conducted  ceremony 
of  stoning  to  death. 

J.  S.  Hittell  saj's  of  the  Indians  of  Cali- 
fornia :  ''They  had  no  religion,  no  con- 
ception of  a  deity,  or  of  a  future  life,  no 
idols,  no  form  of  worship,  no  priests,  no 
philosojjhical  conceptions,  no  historical 
traditions,  no  j)roverbs,  no  mode  of  record- 
ing thought  before  the  coming  of  the  mis- 
Monaries  among  them."'  Seldom  has  there 
been  St)  much  absolute  misstatement  as  in 
this  quotation.  Jeremiah  Curtin,  speaking 
of  the  same  Indians,  makes  a  remark  which 
ajjplies  with  force  to  these  first  three  state- 
ments :  "The  Indian,  at  every  step,  stood 
face  to  face  with  divinity  as  he  knew  or 
understood  it.  He  could  never  escape  from 
the  presence  of  those  powers  wlio  had  made 
the  first  world.  .  .  .  The  most  important 
question  of  all  in  Indian  life  was  communi- 
cation with  divinity,  intercourse  with  the 
spirits  of  divine  personages."  In  his  "Crea- 
tion Myths  of  Primitive  America,"  this 
studious  author  gives  the  names  of  a  number 
of  divinities,  and  the  legends  connected  with 
them.  He  affirms  positively  that  "the  most 
striking  thing  in  all  savage  belief  is  the  low 
estimate  put  upon  man,  wlien  unaided  by 
divine,  uncreated  power.  In  Indian  belief 
over}'  object  in  the  universe  is  divine  except 
man !" 

As  to  their  having  no  priests,  no  forms 
of  worship,  no  philosophical  conceptions, 
no  historical  traditions,  no  proverbs,  any 
one  interested  in  the  Indian  of  to-day  knows 
that  these  things  are  untrue.  Whence  came 
all  the  myths  and  legends  that  recent  writers 


INDIANS    Ol      THK    SOITIIWEST 


liavc  "atlicrod,  ;i  .^coro  ot'  wliicli  I  invself  hold 
still  unpublished  in  iiiv  note  hook?  Were 
tliev  all  imagined  after  the  arrival  of  the 
Mission  Fatliers?  B_v  no  means!  They 
have  been  lianded  down  for  countless 
centuries,  and  tiiey  come  to  us,  perhaps  a 
little  corrupted,  but  still  just  as  accurate 
as  do  the  Songs  of  Homer. 

Everv"  tribe  had  its  medicine-men,  who 
were  developed  by  a  most  rigorous  series  of 
tests;  such  as  would  dismay  many  a  white 
man.  As  to  their  philosopiiical  conceptions 
and  traditions,  C'urtin  well  says  that  in 
them  "we  have  a  nioninnent  of  thought 
which  is  absolutely  unequaled,  altogether 
unique  in  human  experience.  The  special 
value  of  this  thought  lies,  moreover,  in  the 
fact  that  it  is  primitive;  that  it  is  the 
thougiit  of  ages  long  anterior  to  those  which 
we  find  recorded  in  the  eastern  hemisphere, 
either  in  sacred  hooks,  in  histories,  or  in 
literat'jre.  whether  preserved  on  baked  brick, 
liurnt  cylinders  or  papyrus." 

And  if  we  go  to  the  Pueblo  Indians,  the 
Navahoes,  the  Pimas  and  others,  all  of 
whom  were  brought  more  or  less  under  tiie 
Influence  of  the  Franciscans,  we  find  a 
mass  of  beliefs,  deities,  traditions,  concep- 
tions and  proverbs,  which  would  overpower 
Mr.  Hittell  merely  to  collate. 

Therefore,  let  it  be  distinctly  understood 
that  the  Indian  was  not  the  thoughtless,  un- 
imaginative, irreligious,  brutal  savage  which 
lie  is  too  often  represented  to  l)e.  He 
thought,  and  tiiought  well,  but  still  origi- 
nally lie  was  religious,  profoundly  and 
powerfully  so,  but  in  his  own  way ;  he  was 
a  philosopher,  but  not  according  to  Hittell ; 
he  was  a  worshiper,  but  not  after  the  method 
of  Serra,Palon,and  their  priestly  coadjutors. 

And  now  come  the  priests  to  change  all 


ilii>  primitivi'  life.  Hv  power  now  and 
again  exercised  witli  judicious  care,  but 
mainly  by  astute  persuasion,  Serra  led  the 
Indians  of  the  Southwest  into  the  fold  of  tlie 
Church.  As  I  have  said  elsewhere,  he  obeyed 
tlie  best  and  highest  of  motives.  He  was 
impelled  by  the  assurance  that  the  barba- 
rians «ere  forever  danmed,  unless  some  one 
should  save  their  souls  through  the  media- 


Kic»ire  X.    Turribio  .\papi*-',  Tiii^ran  :!^li,  >>v  im-ili- 
ciiK'-nian  of  th**  C'Hlmillas,  8<riitlit-ni  California 


tion  of  the  Cliurcli.      Hence  tiie  earnestness 
of  his  labors. 

What  nuist  the  Indians  have  thought, 
when,  on  the  sixteenth  of  July,  17()9,  Serra, 
robed  in  his  full  canonicals,  with  all  the 
pomp,  ceremony  and  solemnity  suited  to  a 
great  occasion,  celebrated  the  mass  on  the 
beach  before  a  cross  set  up  in  a  rude  shack 
made  of  branches  and  tules.'  How  did  the 
singing  of  the  Vcit'i  Creator  by  the  Fathers 
and  the  Spanish  soldiers  affect  them.''      And 

tiO'J 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


wlien  tliej-  heard  the  roar  of  the  fire-arms 
which  were  discharged  to  supply  the  place 
of  the  organ,  how  their  savage  hearts  must 
have  quivered ! 

J'or  fifteen  j^ears  the  indefatigable  Serra 
labored,  aided  by  his  associates.  He  saw 
with  his  own  eyes  the  establishment  of  the 
Missions  of  San  Diego,  San  C;irlos  Borro- 
nifo,  San  Antonio  ile  Padua,  San  Gabriel, 
San    liUis   Obispo,   San   Francisco   de   Asis, 


-V 


In  the  years  1803-1807,  G.  H.  von 
LangsdorfF,  Aulic  Councillor  to  the  Em- 
])eror  of  Russia,  journeyed  around  the 
world  with  Capt.  Krusenstern,  the  first  Rus- 
sian circumnavigator.  He  visited  the  San 
Francisco  and  Santa  Clara  Missions  in 
]\larch,  1806,  and  says:  "The  monks  con- 
duct themselves  in  general  witii  so  much 
prudence,  kindness,  and  paternal  care 
toward  their  converts,  that  peace,  happiness 


- 

.^^^ 

") 

'•otHp 

flj 

i  fe'  'i 

il 

fsi 

.                   1  ith',   jL^^Bi 

II 

^H 

-;    i 

'  j-^        I'     .-'''■       -^" 

. 

m 

1       ^ 

m 

m 

H^^^g^^^^ 

H 

^■^H 

1^^^ 

1 

1 

Fiirm-i'  XI.    Tlii-  Iiuliaii  Missidii  ai'iiv 

San  Juan  Capistrano,  Santa  Clara  and  San 
Buenaventura.  At  the  end  of  sixty  years, 
more  than  thirty  thousand  Indian  converts 
lodged  in  the  Mission  buildings,  under  the 
direct  and  immediate  guidance  of  the  Fath- 
ers ;  performed  their  allotted  daily  labors 
with  cheerfulness  and  thoroughness.  There 
were  some  exceptions,  necessarily,  but,  in 
the  main,  the  domination  of  the  missionaries 
was  complete. 

610  ' 


•yar.l  .■ii  th<-  Tul.-  Rivi-r  RHs,-rvati<in 

and  obedience  universally  prevail  among 
them.  .  .  There  are  seldom  more  than  from 
three  to  five  soldiers,  at  a  time,  at  any  Mis- 
sion, but  this  small  number  always  has  been 
found  sufficient  to  keep  the  Indians  under 
proper  restraint." 

Occasionally  the  priests  went  out  in 
search  of  converts ;  over  their  breasts  and 
shoulders  then  they  wore  a  short  leathern 
mantle   made   of   deer  skin.     This   was   to 


INDIANS    OF   THK    SOITIIW  KST 

protect  tl>cm  against  the  arrows  of  liostile  .Many    interesting   ((notations    niiglit    lie 

Indians,  for  "hy  a  royal  connnand,  tlie  eccle-  niaile  from  this  disinterested  observer,  all  of 

siastics  must  not  carry  about  them  any  other  which  speak  well   for  the   fatherly  care  of 

weapons  than  the  Bible  and  the  Cross."  the  priests. 

Of  the  girls  and  widows,  the  same  traveler  It  has  been  saiil  tiiat    this  policy   was  a 

says  :  "They  live  in  sojiarate  houses,  and  are  mistaken    one:    that    had    the    Indian    been 

kept  at  work  under  lock  and  key;  they  are  educated    to    citizenship,    instead    of    being 

only  sometimes  permitted,  by  their  superiors,  treated  as  a  child,  he  would  not  so  speedily 

to    go   out    during    the    day.    but    never   at  have  succumbed  to  tile  vices  of  civilization. 


B 


^SB 


Figure  .\n.    Til. 


Warin-r's  liancli,  San    Dii-gn.  Califuriija,  t'r'tiii 
\v<Tc  recently  cvii-tc-il 


SBiSBSSSl 


v'lijcli   I]|4-  Iniliali 


night.      As  soon,  however,  as  a  girl  is  mar-  when    the    restraining    influences    were    re- 

ried,  she  is  free,  and  lives  with  lier  husband  moved.      I  think  this  criticism  is  a  just  (jiie. 

in  one  of  the  villages  of  the  Indians,  called  The  kindness  was  a  mistaken  one.      Greater 

r«Hr/irr(V/.v,  which  belong  to  the  Mission.     |{y  freedom  would  lia\i'  gi\en  greater  responsi- 

such    institutions,   the   ecclesiastics   hojie   to  i)ility,  especially  under  the  wise  teaching  of 

bind  their  converts  more  closely  to  the  estab-  the  Kathers.      Hut   it   is  often  easier  to  see 

lishment  and  to  spread  their  religion  more  afterward  than   at   the  time.      My   conten- 

.securely  and  extensively.   .   .   .   The  number  tion  is.  that  even  the  mistaken,  kindly  policy 

of  converted  Indians  at  this  Mission  is  about  of    the    l-'athers    was    immeasurably    better 

twelve  hundred."  than   the  "free  and  civilizing"  hiissir:  fairr 

(ill 


THE    CRAFTSMAN 


policy   of   the    United    States   government. 

In  18;i:3,  tlie  Alexican  government  issued 
its  order  of  secularization.  The  Pious  Fund, 
which  then  amounted  to  upwards  of  a  half 
million  dollars,  was  confiscated — they  called 
it  "borrowed" — for  the  purpose  of  effecting 
the  provisions  of  this  law.  This  practically 
left  the  Indians  to  their  own  resources.  A 
certain  amount  of  land  and  stock  were  to  be 
given  to  each  liead  of  a  family,  and  tools 
were  to  be  provided.  Owing  to  the  long- 
distance between  California  and  the  Citj'  of 
Mexico,  there  was  much  confusion  as  to 
how  the  changes  should  be  brought  about. 
There  have  been  many  charges  made,  alleg- 
ing that  the  Fathers  wilfully  allowed  the 
Mission  property  to  go  to  ruin,  when  they 
were  deprived  of  its  control.  This  ruin 
would  better  be  attributed  to  the  general 
demoralization  of  the  times,  than  to  any 
definite  policy.  For  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  political  conditions  of  ]\Iexico,  at 
that  time,  were  most  unsettled.  None  knew 
what  a  day  or  an  hour  might  bring  forth. 
All  was  confusion,  uncertainty,  irresponsi- 
bility. And  in  the  melee  INIission  property 
and  Mission  Indians  suffered. 

From  that  day  to  this  the  Indians  have 
been  rapidly  succumbing  to  the  inevitable. 
July  7,  1846,  saw  the  Mexican  flag  in 
California  hauled  down,  and  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  raised  in  its  place ;  but  as  far  as  the 
Indian  was  concerned,  the  change  was  for 
the  worse  instead  of  the  better.  Indeed,  it 
may  truthfull}'  be  said  that  the  policies  of 
the  three  governments,  Spanish,  Mexican 
and  American,  have  shown  three  distinct 
phases,  and  that  the  last  is  by  far  the  worst. 

Our  treatment  of  these  Indians  reads  like 
a  hideous  nightmare.  Absolutely  no  force- 
ful and  effective  protest  seems  to  have  been 


made  against  the  indescribable  wrongs  per- 
petrated. The  gold  discoveries  of  18i9 
brought  into  the  country  a  class  of  advent- 
urers, gamblers,  liquor  sellers  and  camp 
followers  of  the  vilest  description.  The 
Indians  became  helpless  victims  in  the  hands 
of  these  infamous  wretches,  and  even  the 
authorities  aided  to  make  these  Indians 
"good." 

An  eye  witness,  writing  of  events  in  the 
early  fifties,  thus  recounts  the  Los  Angeles 
method  of  Christianizing  the  Mission  In- 
dians : 

"These  thousands  of  Indians  had  been 
held  in  the  most  rigid  discipline  by  the  Mis- 
sion Fathers,  and  after  their  emancipation 
by  the  Supreme  Government  of  Mexico,  had 
been  reasonabh'  well  governed  by  the  local 
authorities,  who  found  in  them  indispen- 
sable auxiliaries  as  farmers  and  harvesters, 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,  and 
beside  the  best  horse-breakers  and  herders  in 
the  world,  necessary  to  the  management  of 
the  great  herds  of  the  country.  These  In- 
dians were  Christians,  docile  even  to  servil- 
ity, and  excellent  laborers.  Then  came  the 
Americans,  followed  soon  after  by  the  dis- 
covery of,  and  the  wild  rush  for,  gold,  and 
the  relaxation  for  the  time  being  of  a 
healthy  administration  of  the  laws.  The  ruin 
of  this  once  happy  and  useful  people  com- 
menced. The  cultivators  of  vineyards  be- 
gan to  pay  their  Indian  peons  with  aguardi- 
ente, a  real  "firewater."  The  consequence 
was  that  on  receiving  their  wages  on  Satur- 
day evening,  the  laborers  habitually  met  in 
great  gatherings  and  passed  the  night  in 
gambling,  drunkenness  and  debauchery.  On 
Sunday  the  streets  were  crowded  from  morn- 
ing until  night  with  Indians, — males  and 
females  of  all  ages,  from  the  girl  of  ten  or 


Gl-I 


INDIANS   OF   THE   SOITHWKST 


twelve,  to  the  old  man  and  woman  of  seventy 
or  eighty. 

"By  four  o'clock  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
Los  Angeles  street,  from  Commercial  to 
Nigger  Alley,  Aliso  street  from  Los  Angeles 
to  Alameda,  and  Nigger  AUe}-,  were  crowded 
with  a  mass  of  drunken  Indians,  yelling  and 
fighting:  men  and  women,  boys  and  girls 


The  following  morning  they  would  be  ex- 
posed for  sale,  as  slaves  for  the  week.  Los 
Angeles  had  its  slave-mart,  as  well  as  New 
Orleans  and  Constantinople,— only  the 
slaves  at  Los  Angeles  were  sold  fifty-two 
times  a  year,  as  long  as  they  lived,  a  period 
which  did  not  generally  exceed  one,  two,  or 
three    years    under    the    new    dispensation. 


r|lki, 


Fit'iin-  XIII.     II. .t  Si.nni:^  .. 

using  tooth  and  nail,  and  frequently  knives, 
but  always  in  a  manner  to  strike  the  specta- 
tor with  horror. 

"At  sun-down,  the  pompous  marshal,  with 
his  Indian  special  deputies,  who  had  been 
confined  in  jail  all  day  to  keep  them  sober, 
would  drive  and  drag  the  combatants  to  a 
great  corral  in  the  rear  of  the  Downey  Block, 
where  they   slept  away   their  intoxication. 


rri<-r's  Kaivli;  San  DWu",  Caiifciriiia 

They  were  sold  for  a  week,  and  bought  up 
by  vineyard  men  and  others  at  prices  rang- 
ing from  one  to  three  dollars,  one-third  of 
which  was  to  be  paid  to  the  peon  at  the  end 
of  the  week,  which  debt,  due  for  well-per- 
formed lai)or,  was  invariably  paid  in 
a^ardicntc,  and  the  Indian  made  happy, 
until  the  following  Monday  morning, he  hav- 
ing passed  through  another  Saturday  night 

613 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


and  Sunday's  saturnulia  of  debauchery  and 
bestiality.  Those  thousands  of  lionest,  use- 
ful people  were  absolutely  destroyed  in  this 
way." 

In  reference  to  these  statements  of  the 
sale  of  the  Indians  as  slaves,  it  should  be 
noted  that  the  act  was  done  under  the  cover 
of  the  law.  The  Indian  was  "fined"  in  a 
certain  svnn  for  his  drunkenness,  and  was 
then  turned  over  to  the  tender  mercies  of 


Fiiiui-i'  XIV.     Lpi'uurcl'i  (  IwHiiL'uwush.  P;ilatingw:i 
scout  foi-  (Triii-ral  Ki-arncy 


the  employer  who  paid  the  fine.  Thus  "jus- 
tice" was  perverted  to  the  vile  ends  of  the 
conscienceless  scoundrels  who  posed  as 
"officers  of  the  law." 

To-dav.  the  total  Indian  population  of 
Southern  California  is  reported  by  the 
agent  as  two  thousand  eight  hundred  fifty- 
five.  It  is  not  increasing,  and  it  is  good  for 
the  race  that  it  is  not.  Until  the  present  in- 
cumbency of  the  Indian  Commissionership  in 


Washington,  there  seems  to  have  been  little 
or  no  attempt  at  effective  protection  of  the 
Indians  against  the  land  and  other  thefts 
of  the  whites.  The  facts  are  succinctly  and 
powerfully  stated  by  Helen  Hunt  Jackson 
in  her  report  to  the  Government,  and  in  her 
"Glimpses  of  California  and  the  Missions." 
The  indictment  of  churches,  citizens,  the 
charges  against  the  Government,  for  its 
crime  of  supineness  in  allowing  its  acknowl- 
edged wards  to  be  seduced,  cheated,  and 
corrupted,  should  be  read  by  every  honest 
American  ;  even  though  it  make  his  blood 
seethe  with  indignation  and  his  nerves 
quiver  with  shame. 

Last  year,  Anno  Domini,  1903,  the  In- 
dians of  Warner's  Ranch,  b^'  a  decree  of  the 
United  States  Supreme  Court,  affirming  the 
decisions  of  the  highest  State  courts,  were 
evicted  from  the  homes  which  tliey  had 
occupied  from  time  immemorial,  and  which 
had  been  pledged  to  them  and  their  succes- 
sors by  General  Kearney  and  others  in  au- 
thority, on  behalf  of  the  United  States  gov- 
ernment. Figure  XII.  is  a  general  view  of 
the  village  of  Palatingwa  (Spanish:  Agua 
Calknte,  English:  Hot  Water),  and  Figure 
XIII.  shows  the  springs  themselves,  which 
the  Indians  so  much  loved,  and  the  white 
men  so  much  coveted. 

Figure  XIV.  is  of  Leonardo  Owlingu- 
wush,  who  was  present  when  General  Kear- 
ney made  his  pledge  that  if  the  Indians 
would  be  friendly  to  the  United  States  Gov- 
ernment, they  should  never  be  removed  from 
their  homes,  although  white  men  became  as 
innnerous  as  the  quail  on  the  hillsides. 

At  this  time,  the  Indian  Department,  un- 
der AV.  A.  Jones,  the  present  commissioner, 
made  the  first  honest  and  practical  attempt 
to  come  to  the  rescue  of  its  wards.     A  hun- 


614. 


INDIANS   OF   THE   SOUTHWEST 


dred  thousand  dollars  was  appropriated  to 
find  them  a  new  home,  but  much  of  the 
mone}'  has  been  worse  than  wasted  by  the 
incompetencj'  of  self-constituted,  expert 
advisers  and  minor  official  stupidity  and  in- 
capacit}'.  Later,  I  shall  write  upon  this 
subject  at  length,  and  with  full  knowledge. 
Let  it  suffice  to  say  that  to-day,  tlieso  In- 
dians are  upon  land  where  they  cannot  make 
even  a  scant  living,  unless  large  sums  of 
mone}-  shall  be  expended  in  an  irrigation- 
scheme  to  convey  water  to  lands  not  over 
good  at  best ;  they  are  "converted"  from  a 
self-sustaining,  brave  and  independent  peo- 
ple to  so  many  paupers  looking  to  tlie  gov- 
ernment for  rations ;  they  regard  every 
white  man  as  a  liar ;  the  man  who  has  espe- 
ciall}'  posed  as  their  friend  they  view  with  a 
hatred  approacliing  a  murderous  sentiment, 
and,  were  they  as  warlike  and  strong  numer- 
ically as  the  Sioux,  the  War  Department 
would  be  confronted  with  another  Indian 
war. 

In  other  villages  and  tribes  the  same  de- 
moralization is  apparent. 

A  short  time  ago,  I  had  a  long,  confiden- 
tial interview  with  Marcos,  once  a  chief  of 
the  Indian  village  at  Palm  Springs.  Among 
other  things,  we  discussed  the  morality  of 
the  women  of  his  people.  With  a  dejection 
in  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  hope,  the  poor 
fellow  stated  that  the  burden  of  life  was  so 
hard  for  his  people  that  he  had  long  ceased 
to  regard  with  anger  the  immorality  of  the 
women,  young  or  old,  married  or  single. 
"So  long  as  they  can  get  something  to  cat 
thereb}',  why  should  we  care?"  he  sadly 
asked.  "It  is  not  easy  to  be  good  when  the 
hunger  is  in  the  stomach  and  when  one  offers 
you  a  dollar  to  do  that  which  is  easy  through 
evil !" 


This  is  one  of  the  saddest  proofs  of  the 
demoralization  of  this  people.  When  the 
leaders  have  ceased  to  care ;  when  the  strug- 
gle has  become  so  hard  as  to  seem  to  be 
hopeless,  then,  indeed,  are  they  in  bad  case. 

To  show  the  actual  state  of  land  matters 
among  the  Indians  of  Southern  California, 
I  present  the  subjoined  table  from  the  as  yet 
unpublished  report  of  the  agent  for  the 
"Mission-Tule"  Consolidated  Agency,  which 
is  dated  September  25,  1903. 

This  is  the  official  report  of  an  agent 
whom  not  even  his  best  friends  acknowledge 
as  being  over  fond  of  his  Indian  charges,  or 
likely  to  be  sentimental  in  his  dealings  with 
them.  What  does  this  report  state .''  Of 
twenty-eight  "reservations" — and  some  of 
these  include  several  Indian  villages — it  an- 
nounces that  the  lands  of  eight  are  3'et  "not 
patented."  In  other  words,  that  the  In- 
dians are  living  upon  them  "on  sufferance." 
Therefore,  if  any  citizen  of  the  United 
States,  possessed  of  sufficient  political  pow- 
er, so  desired,  the  lands  could  be  restored  to 
the  public  domain.  Then,  not  even  the 
United  States  Supreme  Court  could  hold 
them  for  the  future  use  and  benefit  of  the 
Indians. 

On  five  of  these  reservations,  the  land  is 
"desert,"  and,  in  two  cases,  "subject  to  in- 
tense heat" — (it  might  be  said,  to  150  de- 
grees, and  even  higher  in  the  middle  of  sum- 
mer) ;  in  one  case,  there  is  "little  water 
for  irrigation." 

In  four  cases,  it  is  "poor  land,"  with  "no 
water,"  and,  in  another  instance,  there  are 
"worthless,  dry  hills;"  in  still  another,  the 
soil  is  "almost  worthless  for  lack  of  water !" 

In  one  of  the  desert  cases,  where  there  are 
five  villages,  the  government  has  supplied 
"water    in    abundance    for    irrigation    and 

615 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


domestic  use,  from  artesian  wells."  Yet  the 
land  is  not  patented,  and  the  Indians  are 
helpless,  if  evicted  by  resolute  men. 

At  Cahuilla,  with  a  population  of  one 
hundred  fifty-five,  the  report  says  "moun- 
tain valley  ;  stock  land  and  little  water.  Not 
patented." 

At  Santa  Isabel,  including  Molcan,  with 
a  population  of  two  hundred  eighty-four, 
the  reservation  of  twenty-nine  tliousand 
eight  hundred  fortj'-four  acres  is  patented, 
but  the  report  says  it  is  "mountainous ;  stock 
land ;  no  water." 

At  San  Jacinto,  with  a  population  of  one 


hundred  forty-three,  the  two  thousand  nine 
hundred  sixty  acres  are  "mostlj'  poor ;  very 
little  water,  and  not  patented." 

San  Manuel,  with  thirty-eight  persons, 
has  a  patent  for  six  hundred  forty  acres  of 
"worthless,  dry  hills." 

Temecula,  with  one  hundred  eighty-one 
persons,  has  had  allotted  to  its  members 
tin-ee  thousand  tlirce  hundred  sixty  acres, 
wjiich  area,  however,  is  "almost  worthless 
for  lack  of  water." 

Let  us  reflect  upon  these  things !  The 
poor  Indian  is  exiled  and  expelled  from  the 
lands    of   his   ancestors   to   wortlilcss    hills. 


Name  of  reserv.at.ion 


Numbf-r      Popula- 
ot'  acres         tion 


Agua  Caliente  {Palm  Springs). 


Augrustine ■ 

Torres    (Alimo    Bonito.    Airua    Dulce. 

Martinez,  and   Torres  villages)    and 

iuelmUng  Walters. 

Cabviilla 


Capitan  Grande. 

Campo 

Guaypipa 

Cabazon 


Injaya 

Los    Coyotes    (San    Ignacio    and    San 
Isedro  villages). 

Morongo 

Mesa  Grande 


Pala 

Pannia 

Potrero  (La  Jolla  and  La  Piehe) 
Riucon 


Syquan 


Santa  Isabel,  including  Mo 

S.an  Felipe —        

San  .Taciuto 

San  Manuel 

Santa  Rosa 

Santa  Inez 


Tule  River 


La  Posta 

Manzanita 

Temecula 

Twenty-nine  Palms 

Agua  Caliente  No.  1,  Mataguay.  Puerti 
La  Cruz.  San  Jose. 


3.844.00 


fil.i.llO 
19.200.00 


IS.240.00  I 

10,253.00 

2.S0.(I0 
SSO.OO 
640.00 


2S0.00 
22,(i40.00 

38.(i00.(10 
120.00 

3.50.SflO 

250.00 

.S.320.12 

2,552.81 

640.00 

20.S44.0G 


!.960.00 
040.00 


((175.00  I 


45.000.00 

23S  KS 
640.00 

3.;ic.o.oo 

160.21 


1 


31 
304 


lis 

14 

36 

38 


42 
106 


258 
67 
203 
175 


284 

45 

143 

38 


181 
36 


Distance 

from 

agency 


Miles 
50 


General  cbaracter  of  land 


littl 


o  Estimated. 


75 


35 

118 
170 
125 
27 


100 

85 


110 

SO 

85 

6 

55 


450 

170 
170 
35 
190 


Desert  land;    subject  to  intense  beat; 

water  for  irrigation.     Patent. 
Desert:  no  water.     Patent  issued. 
Desert  land:  intense  heat:  water  in  ai)nndance 

for  irrigation  aiul  domestic  use  from  artesian 

wells  furnislied  by  the    Government.    Not 

patented. 
Mountain    valley:     stock    land;    littlf    water. 

Not  patented. 
Portion  good:  very  little  water.  Patent  issued. 
Poor  land;  uo  water.    Patent  issued. 
As  above. 
Desert;  productive    now.    since    Government 

has  furnished  artesian  water  with  reservoirs 

for    irrigation    and    domestic   use.     Patent 

issued. 
Small  amount  of  poor  land.    Patent  issued. 
iMountainous;   very  little  farming  land.    Nut 

patented. 
Fair  land,  with  water.    Not  patented. 
Small  aiuount  of  farming  land:  little  water; 

portion  good:  stock  land.    Patent  issued. 
Gootl  land;  water.    Sniall  P'>rtion  allotted. 
Portion  good  land,  with  water.    Not  jiatented. 
Portion  good:  water  on  part.    Allotted. 
.Sandv:    portion   good,   with   water.     PatiMited 

and' allotted. 
Snuill  amount  of  agricultural  land.     Patent 

issued  and  allotted. 
Mountainous:  stock  land;  no  water.    Patented. 
Will  he  moved  to  Pala. 

Mostly  poor:  very  little  water.    Not  patented. 
Worthless:  dry  hills.    Patent  issued. 
Unsurveyed. 

Land  matter  adjusted  satisfactorily  to  the  In- 
dians.   Splendid    land,    with    abundance  of 

water. 
Good  reservation.    Small  amount  of  farming 

land;  mostly  mountain  grazing. 
Poor  land:  no  water.    Not  patented. 

Do. 
Almost  worthless  for  lack  of  water.    Allotted. 
Desert.    Patent  issued, 
All  known  as  Warner's  ranch:  moved  to  Pala 

and  included  in  Pala  statistics. 


616 


SUCCESS  AND  FAILURE 


sandy  desert,  grazing  lands,  mostly  poor 
and  mountainous  land,  while  our  powerful 
government  stands  by  and  professes  its 
helplessness  to  prevent  the  evil.  These  dis- 
couraging facts  are  enough  to  make  the  just 
and  good  men  who  once  guided  the  Republic 
rise  from  their  graves.  Is  there  a  remnant 
of  honor,  justice,  or  integrity,  left  among 
our  politicians? 


SUCCESS  AND  FAILURE  IN 
CRAFTSMANSHIP.  BY  DOUGLAS 
VAN  DENBURGH 

THE  growing  interest  in  the  arts  and 
crafts  leads  us  carefully  to  consider 
the  work  of  the  craftsman  and  the 
means  by  which  he  may  attain  ex- 
cellence of  result.  Speaking  largely,  the 
aim  of  the  craftsman  is  twofold :  to  produce 
work  which  shall  meet  the  requirements  of 
a  high  standard  and  to  create  a  demand  for 
the  result  of  his  labor.  In  order  to  attain 
the  required  skill  and  to  understand  the  pos- 
sibiUties  of  his  material,  the  craftsman  must 
devote  the  greater  part  of  his  time  and 
thought  to  his  work,  which  can  seldom  be 
done  at  odd  moments ;  robbed,  as  it  were, 
from  the  more  important  duties  of  the  day. 
But  time  and  skill  are  costly  materials,  and 
the  craftsman,  as  a  rule,  can  ill  afford  a 
large  investment  of  this  kind  without  rea- 
sonable hope  of  return. 

Assuming  the  demand  for  the  results  of 
his  labor  to  be  provided,  and  that  his  work 
meets  the  requirements  of  good  workman- 
ship and  design,  we  next  ask  how  best  is  the 
craftsman  to  reach  the  desired  results;  what 
are  the  guides  to  his  success,  and  what  the 
dangers  which  he  must  avoid? 


To  the  artist  "beauty  is  its  owti  excuse  for 
being,"  and  for  this  he  strives:  if  his  work 
be  beautiful,  it  stands  approved.  The 
craftsman's  work  must  also  be  beautiful, 
but  it  must  fill  other  requirements;  for  he 
is  not  onlj'  an  artist ;  he  must  be  an  artisan 
as  well.  He  is  a  builder  and  maker  of 
things  useful  to  the  hand,  as  well  as  pleas- 
ing to  the  eye. 

Unserviceable  beauty  is  as  foreign  to  his 
art  as  is  serviceable  ugliness.  Thus,  to  be 
successful  in  his  craft,  the  workman  must 
produce  an  article  valuable  both  for  its 
beauty  and  its  usefulness — an  article  pleas- 
ing in  itself  and  capable  of  service. 

The  craftsman's  success  will  be  found  to 
depend  largely  upon  three  things:  knowl- 
edge of  material,  aptness  of  design,  and 
skill  in  handling  tools.  The  more  complete 
the  workman's  knowledge  of  his  material, 
the  greater  will  be  his  freedom  of  design; 
the  scope  of  the  one  will  always  widen  with 
the  scope  of  the  other.  The  most  perfect 
design  may  be  rendered  useless  through  ap- 
plication to  unsuitable  material,  and,  con- 
versely, the  value  of  material  may  be  de- 
strojed,  through  lack  of  judgment  in  de- 
sign. 

The  design  should  always  comply  with 
two  fixed  rules.  Not  only  should  it  lend 
itself  readily  to  the  medium  in  which  it  is 
executed,  but  it  must  also  be  appropriate  to 
the  article  itself.  Any  design  or  decora- 
tion which  detracts  from  the  usefulness  of 
the  work,  by  reason  of  shape  or  durability, 
is  to  be  condemned.  The  beauty  of  the 
work  should  lie  in  the  construction  of  the 
design,  and  not  in  the  applied  decoration. 
The  ornate  is  to  be  avoided,  both  because  it 
soon  becomes  fatiguing  to  the  eye,  and 
because  it  at  once  lessens  the  durability  and 

SIT 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


usefulness  of  the  work  to  which  it  has  been 
appHed.  Within  certain  hmits,  therefore, 
the  craftsman  should  strive  for  strength 
and  simpHcity  of  design  by  which  to  insure 
the  durability  of  his  wares,  for  it  is  upon 
these  quahties  that  his  work  must  stand. 

Equal  in  importance  to  knowledge  of 
material  and  design  is  the  workman's  skill 
in  the  use  of  tools.  If  his  hand  lack  deft- 
ness, if  he  blunder  or  bungle  in  the  execu- 
tion of  his  work,  failing  to  give  it  both  in- 
dividuality and  the  essential  neatness  which 
marks  all  true  workmanship,  he  has  failed 
to  give  value  to  his  work. 

The  desired  result  must  never  be  made 
abortive  from  the  insufficiency  of  time  de- 
voted to  achieve  it.  The  first  requirement 
of  good  craftsmanship  is  the  unremitting 
attention  to  detail  which  it  is  impossible  to 
give,  when  the  hands  of  the  worker  strive  to 
keep  pace  with  those  of  the  clock  It  is  a 
false  theory  which  would  limit  the  crafts- 
man's use  of  tools,  or  deny  him  any  method 
or  device  which  reduces  his  labor,  provided 
it  does  so  without  injury  to  his  results. 
Time  spent  because  of  lack  of  proper  tools, 
is  time  wasted ;  it  adds  nothing  to  the  value 
of  the  work.  A  plank  cut  from  the  log  by 
hand  is  no  better  than  a  plank  from  the  mill, 
even  though  it  cost  much  greater  labor  to 
produce.  So,  also,  carving  done  without 
proper  tools,  may  stand  as  a  marvel  of  the 
patience   and   the   skill   which   have  added 


nothing  to  the  value  of  the  work  on  which 
they  were  bestowed. 

Nor  should  the  machine  be  decried  as  hav- 
ing no  place  in  the  craftsman's  shop.  The 
macliine  is  nothing  more  than  an  enlarged 
tool,  the  distinction  between  tool,  machine- 
tool,  and  machine,  not  being  sharply  defined. 
The  three,  in  fact,  are  mere  modifications  of 
one  another. 

To  limit  the  craftsman's  tools  is  to  limit 
the  scope  of  his  work.  We  speak  fondly 
of  hand-made  objects,  but,  in  reality,  their 
true  value  lies  within  themselves,  rather  than 
in  the  process  by  which  they  were  wrought. 
Thus,  the  craftsman's  success  will  be  found 
to  lie  in  choice  of  material,  simplicity  and 
strength  of  design,  and  untiring  endeavor 
toward  perfection  of  workmanship ;  his  fail- 
ures arising  from  disregard  for  these 
things. 

The  work  of  the  craftsman  is  costly  in 
some  measure,  and  can  be  defended  only 
when  it  reaches  standards  unattainable  by 
the  factory  and  the  machine.  If  any  part 
or  process  capable  of  improvement,  has  been 
slighted  and  passed  over  as  being  "good 
enough,"  the  work  might  better  have  been 
left  undone. 

Individuality,  simplicity,  utility,  and 
durability,  are  the  hallmarks  of  the  crafts- 
man's success.  For  these  he  should  strive 
perpetually. 


618 


RENE  LALIQI  E 


RENE  LALIQUE.  FROM  THE  GER- 
MAN OF  DR.  H.  PUDOR,  IX  "DOKU- 
.AIENTE  DES  MODERNEN  KUNST- 
(iEWERBES" 

It  is  so  encouraging  a  sign  of  the  times 
to  record  an  appreciation  of  a  great  artist 
by  a  critic  of  a  different  and  somewhat  an- 
tagonistic race,  tliat  the  subjoined  article  is 
liere  printed.  The  quoted  words  of  the 
German  writer  clearly  indicate  that  a  re- 
public of  art  is  in  process  of  creation :  one 
wliose  boundaries  shall  not  be  those  which 
are  set  up  by  race  or  language,  and  in  which 
genius  shall  be  the  sole  requisite  for  citizen- 
ship. 

THE  Lalique  Exhibition  of  the 
Ilohenzollern  Arts  and  Crafts 
House,  b^'  which  the  directors  of 
the  same  have  earned  new  reputa- 
tion, is  under  the  auspices  of  the  French 
craftsman  himself.  M.  Lalique  has  cer- 
tainly not  "done  the  honors"  of  the  exhibi- 
tion, as  some  one,  wanting  in  taste,  has  ex- 
pressed himself,  but  he  has  been  present  in 
person,  in  order  to  provide  for  the  suitable 
presentation  of  his  works,  and  perhaps  to 
give  here  and  there  a  word  of  explanation. 
In  an  ethical-religious  periodical,  there 
appeared  recently  an  article  under  the  title 
of  "Art  is  all  and  Life  nothing."  In  these 
words  there  exists  a  particle  of  the  pure 
gold  of  absolute  truth.  Assuredly,  in  our 
times,  we  see  frequently  great  artists  and 
moral  charlatans  united  in  the  same  per- 
sons; while  even  among  those  who  cultivate 
art  as  dilletanti,  we  find,  for  the  most  part, 
those  who  distinguish  themselves  by  their 
heavy  purses,  but  not  by  their  weight}' 
brain-tissue. 


I  must  acknowledge  that  when,  for  the 
first  time,  I  prepared  to  approach  M.  La- 
lique, whom,  for  a  number  of  years,  I  had 
honored  highly  as  a  goldsmith,  I  expected 
to  be  thoroughly  disillusionized;  since  I  had 
observed  that  frequently  a  striking  person- 
ality does  not  belong  to  a  famous  artist. 

It  was,  indeed,  one  of  the  most  delightful 
of  surprises  to  note  an  exception  in  the  case 


of  M.  Lalique.  One  finds  in  him  the  man 
who  is  revealed  in  his  works:  an  artist  of 
acute  sensitiveness,  of  great  delicacy  and 
modest}'.  I  do  not  mean  the  cringing  mod- 
est}'  of  the  underling  of  the  Shaksperian 
t^pe,  but  that  modest}'  of  the  true  artist, 
who  feels  that  the  best  which  he  creates  does 
not  reach  the  sublime  simplicity  and  loveli- 
ness of  Nature ;  above  all,  that  the  ideal  of 
the  specific  work  which  he  bears  within  him- 
self is  not  capable  of  materialization. 

■It 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Let  us  try  to  realize  a  name  which,  since 
the  Paris  Exposition  of  1900,  has  circled 
the  world,  and  which  is  pronounced  with 
rapture  by  the  most  famous  beauties ;  a  man 
who  annually  earns  millions  and  whose  house 
and  home  is  a  gem  of  architecture;  fur- 
thermore, a  person  of  simple,  affable  bear- 
ing. Ah !  Jewelers  of  our  imperial  German 
capital,  how  much  you  might  learn  from  a 
Lalique,  even  in  a  way  which  is  purely  per- 
sonal ! 

And  now  will  our  German  goldsmiths  go 
to  the  Hohenzollern  House  and  study  for 
themselves,  hour  long,  the  Lalique  jewels, 
until  the  beads  of  perspiration  drop  from 
their  brows,  and  they  gain  the  thought  of 
the  French  artist;  so  that  in  representing 
the  head  of  a  workman  they  might  imitate 
the  bead  of  perspiration  in  the  form  of  a 
pearl  ? 

A  certain  piece  of  Lalique,  pleases  me 
greatl}' ;  it  is  a  kind  of  brooch,  in  which  he 
has  represented,  by  means  of  yellow  sap- 
phires, the  dewdrops  fallen  on  a  crumpled 
autumn  leaf:  a  characteristic  work  of  the 
most  extreme  naturalism.  Yet  Lalique  does 
not  stop  at  realism,  after  the  manner  of  so 
many  less  gifted  artists.  Rather,  he  leads 
Nature  by  the  hand  up  to  the  very  limits  of 
his  material,  whether  it  be  gold,  enamel,  or 
opal. 

But  let  it  be  well  understood,  that  we  do 
not  regard  every  work  of  Lalique  exhibited 
in  Berlin  as  worthy  of  admiration.  It  is, 
on  the  contrary,  perhaps  right  that  light 
and  shadows  are  mingled,  and  that,  together 
with  the  costly  pearls  of  intuitive  genius. 


there  exist  commercial  wares.  So  let  each 
one  select  for  himself,  according  to  his 
means,  or  the  capacity  of  his  taste. 

Neither  will  we  maintain  that  all  the 
works  shown  are  new.  Rather,  we  find  some 
which  date  from  the  year  1900,  and  others 
from  yet  earlier  periods.  We  recognize 
masterpieces  of  the  Turin  Exhibition  and 
of  the  Paris  Salons,  and  also  certain  few 
new  works. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  latter 
pieces  is  a  diadem  of  horn  ornamented  with 
Alpine  violets  having  stamens  of  diamonds. 
The  brilliancy  of  the  gems  is  especially 
effective  as  shown  against  the  dull  surface 
of  the  horn.  The  composition  is  masterly, 
rich  and  monumental. 

Li  the  second  place  might  be  mentioned  a 
dragon-fly  necklace,  a  splendid  and  costly 
work,  rising  to  the  price  of  twenty-five  hun- 
dred marks.  It  consists  of  a  row  of  dragon- 
flies,  which  are  juxtaposed,  the  heads  and 
the  bodies  being  alternately  placed,  and  the 
antennae,  made  from  unburnished  gold, 
serving  as  a  strong  frame-work.  The  bodies 
of  the  dragon-flies  consist  of  amethysts,  the 
eyes  of  moonstones,  and  the  wings  of  opals. 
LTpon  these  last  are  fastened  wing-like  ap- 
plications of  brown  diamonds  and  sapphires. 
Considered  as  to  the  delicacy  of  the  material 
employed,  as  a  color-scheme  or  harmony  in 
violet-blue,  as  to  brilliancy  in  execution,  and 
finally  as  to  naturalistic  treatment,  this 
article  of  feminine  ornament  is  a  true  artis- 
tic work  not  inferior  to  a  painting  by 
Titian. 


«S0 


A    FALSE    EFFORT 


A  FALSE  EFFORT  TO  BE  FINE 

TWO  articlus  liave  already  been 
printed  in  The  Craftsman  for  the 
current  year,  designed  to  aid 
teachers  and  students  of  Manual 
Training,  as  well  as  those  amateur  workers 
who  are  anxious  to  educate  their  hand  and 
brain,  their  sense  of  proportion  and  struc- 
ture, through  the  exercise  of  the  lesser  build- 
ing art. 

These  articles,  as  will  be  found  b}'  refer- 
ence to  them,  are  thoroughly  illustrated 
with  perspective  and  working  drawings  of 
simple  pieces  of  cabinet-making:  such  as 
can  be  constructed  with  the  simplest  of  tools 
and  materials,  and,  also,  such  as  would  add 
comfort  and  beauty  to  the  interior  in  which 
they  might  be  placed. 

The  originals  of  these  illustrations  were 
planned  in  tiie  hope  to  effect  for  the  liumbler 
homes  of  our  countr}'  a  benefit  comparable 
in  direction,  if  not  in  extent,  with  the  good 
accomplished  by  William  Morris,  when  he 
delivered  England  from  the  pest  of  the  hair- 
cloth sofa  and  the  nightmare  of  the  aniline 
dyes. 

In  the  present  article,  the  subject  of  the 


series  is  regarded  from  a  new  point  of  view : 
tlie  question  remaining  the  same  and  being 
one  of  fit  and  unfit ;  but  tiie  argument  being 
made  from  the  negative  side.  That  is,  the 
student  is  no  longer  shown  the  safe  and 
direct  path  of  progress ;  but  he  is  warned 
what  to  avoid  as  destructive  to  his  taste  and 
to  his  critical  and  constructive  powers. 


6tl 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


The  false  effort  to  be  fine  is  so  extensively 
made  in  this  country,  as  to  be  difficult  to 
censure  and  combat,  and,  it  would  seem, 
almost  impossible  to  annul.  It  is  a  signifi- 
cant movement,  apart  from  its  harmful  in- 
fiuence  upon  domestic  art.  Its  moral  effect 
is  still  more  perilous,  and,  taken  as  a  whole, 
it  is  a  proof  that  the  right  to  the  enjoyment 
of  art  is  not,  as  many  would  have  it  to  be,  a 
prerogative  of  the  wealtliy  classes,  but  that 
such  enjoyment  should  be  extended  until  it 
become  an  integral  part  of  every  life. 

The  effort  to  be  fine  takes  its  impulse 
from  envy,  and  this,  as  the  poet  Longfellow 
has  well  said,  is  "the  vice  of  republics ;" 
since  under  a  government  by  the  people,  the 
classes  are  less  cohesive,  less  sjiarply  defined, 
and  are  subject  to  greater  movement  and 
disturbance :  large  numbers  of  individuals 
easily  passing  from  the  lower  to  the  higher, 
and  large  numbers  of  others  who  can  not 
accomplish  this  ascent,  showing  their  dis- 
content by  ineffectual  and  foolisli  imitation 
of  tliose  above  them. 

With  us  the  political  principles  in  force 


Number 


Xinnbur  J 

arc  certainly  those  which  are  fitted  to  an 
advanced  and  progressive  form  of  civiliza- 
tion. But  as  each  human  good  has  its 
attendant  and  peculiar  evils,  so  it  should  be 
the  duty  of  all  men  of  good  will,  in  whatever 
class  they  may  be  situated,  to  whatever  call- 
ing they  may  be  devoted,  to  lessen  and 
obviate  tliese  evils  as  far  as  may  be. 

With  this  purpose  in  view,  the  illustra- 
tions here  presented  have  been  chosen,  as 
examples  of  false  art,  no  less  than  as  indica- 
tions of  tendencies  to  be  corrected,  if  the 
masses  of  the  people  are  to  be  educated  for 
their  own  happiness  and  for  tlie  public  good. 
By  means  of  such  examples,  the  craftsman 
of  a  special  branch  can  learn  the  principles 
according  to  which  his  manual  labor  must 


A   P^ALSE   EFFORT 


be  pursued,  if  it  is  to  be  successful ;  by 
means  of  the  same  examples,  the  typical 
workman — the  real  supporter  of  the  struc- 
ture of  the  Republic — can  study  a  question 
of  morals  involving  certain  tendencies, 
which,  although  common  to  all  classes,  are 
especiall}'  detrimental  to  the  poorer :  that  is, 
the  desire  for  display,  the  wish  to  deceive 
and  to  falsifj'. 

If  now,  we  examine  closely  the  examples 
here  illustrated,  we  shall  find  them,  in  all 
cases,  to  be  perversions  of  consistent  origi- 
nals, which  were  designed  by  artists  sensi- 
tive to  the  delicate  beauty  of  hne. 
These  originals  passed  into  the  pos- 
session of  persons  who  were  able  to 
give  them  the  proper  surroundings, 
and,  highly  prized  by  connoisseurs, 
they  have  been  able  to  preserve  their 
dignit}',  and  appear  to-day  in 
places  where  they  still  delight  the 
e3-e.  But  what  censure  can  be 
severe  enough  to  scathe  such  wilful 
perversions  of  things  artistically 
correct  and  intrinsically  valuable ! 
These  travesties  are  plain  evidences 
of  the  attempt  upon  the  part  of 
designers  and  merchants  to  feed  the 
public  upon  husks;  an  attempt 
which  is  the  more  to  be  condemned, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  it  can  not  be 
prevented;  that  while  the  adultera- 
tion of  the  food  product  is  held 
liable  to  the  law,  the  prostitution  of 
the  art-principle  is  a  crime  which 
can  not  be  punished. 

If  now,  we  seek  to  make  specific, 
rather  than  general  criticisms,  the 
fault  which  first  thrusts  itself  upon 
the  sight  is  the  distortion  of  line 
occurring  in  the  examples  standing 


at  the  head  of  our  chapter.  The  claw-and- 
ball  foot,  borrowed  from  the  Chippendale 
design,  has  here  every  effect  of  an  applica- 
tion. Its  value  as  a  structural  clement  of 
support  is  wholly  taken  awa^',  leaving  an 
ugh'  protuberance,  which  combines  with  the 
crude  curve  of  the  arms,  the  badly  drawn 
sweep  of  the  top,  and  the  horizontal  of  the 
base,  to  make  a  discord,  upon  which  no 
refined  eye  can,  and  no  untrained  eye  should, 
for  a  single  moment  rest.  Furtliermore, 
tiie  vulgar  profile  of  the  examples  can  be 
constructed  in  the  imagination  from  all  that 


Number  i 


oas 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


Xumlirr  C 


is  seen  in  full  face.  And  iiow  it  differs  from 
the  beautiful  profile  of  tlie  French  and  Ensr- 
lisli  originals,  vital  with  subtile  curves  which 
appear  to  vanish  into  the  floor  line ! 

A  similar  perversion  of  the  model  is  to  be 
noted  in  tiie  chair  with  the  pierced  back, 
which  makes  the  fourth  of  our  illustrations. 
In  this  instance,  the  open  work  offers  in  a 
debased  state,  another  of  the  chief  charac- 
teristics of  those  models  which  critics  are 
inclined  to  group  erroneously  under  the 
generic  name  of  Chippendale.  And  as  the 
name  of  this  artist-ci-aftsman  rises  to  the 
memory-,  it  is  accompanied  by  the  picture 
of  those  "three  ribband-back  chairs,"  which, 
to  quote  the  ingenuous  words  of  their  maker, 
"were,  perhaps,  the  best  ever  made."  But 
what  would  this  same  delightful  artist  have 
said,  could  he  have  looked  upon  this  other 
picture,  representing  an  object  which  is  an 
evidence  of  malice  prepense  on  the  part  of 
the  designer,  and  wliich  can  be  multiplied  to 
the  million  by  the  machine,  for  the  degrada- 
tion of  art  and  of  the  public  taste. 

In  the  sideboard  numbered  five,  the  de- 

624 


signer  has  again  borrowed  ele- 
ments which  he  has  used  with 
intent  to  deceive.  The  inverted 
dolphin-like  forms,  seen  in  the 
brackets,  have  no  part  in  the 
design.  They  do  not  compose. 
They  are  applied.  They  are  a 
false,  vulgar  adaptation  of  an 
element  combining  structural 
function  with  ornament,  which 
was  effectively  employed  in  cer- 
tain of  the  historic  styles.  But 
as  here  used,  they  are  intended 
to  load  the  inexperienced  into 
the  belief  that  the  purchase  of  the 
object  will  make  them  possessors 
of  something  "fine  and  French."  Fine, 
alas,  no,  and  French  to  the  degree  that, 
were  the  ideas  expressed  in  words,  rather 
than  by  forms,  it  would  be  the  French  of  the 
island  of  Martinique,  or  of  the  Canadian 
forests !  But  the  final  chaos  of  construc- 
tion is  reached  in  the  models  of  the  chairs 
numbered  two  and  three.  The  first  of  these 
defies  classification.  It  is  an  abnormal  pro- 
duct, so  deformed  and  debased  that  it  is 
almost  impossiljle  to  determine  its  parent- 
age. But  it  may  be  tliat  the  exuberance  of 
old  German  designs  temporarily  filled  the 
mind  of  the  draughtsman,  who,  commanded 
by  his  employer  to  make  "something  to 
sell,"  compounded  a  real  witches-broth  of 
all  that  is  evil  in  construction  and  ornament. 
The  "turned"  uprights,  the  meaningless 
assemblage  of  the  straight,  the  angular  and 
the  curved  principles,  above  all,  the  snow- 
shoe  rockers  and  the  cheap  applications  of 
dccalcomania  are  so  many  criticisms  and 
condemnations  of  the  whole. 

This  chair  has  no  excuse  for  being,  and 
the  same  may  be  said  of  the  one  following. 


A   FALSE   EFFOU r 


This  latter,  by  its  construction,  recalls  the 
old  definition  of  a  city  as  "a  collection  of 
houses  around  a  port:"  a  definition  which 
might  be  paralleled  by  a  description  of  this 
object  as  an  assemblage  of  the  remaining 
members  of  a  chair,  about  the  leg.  The 
animal  forms  so  effectively  used  in  the 
mediaeval,  the  Renascence  and  the  First 
Empire  stj-les  are  here  travestied  and  de- 
graded. The  line  of  the  body — so  attrac- 
tive when  treated  by  tlie  old  craftsman, 
being  expanded  decorativelj'  or  else  reduced 
to  a  mere  indication — here  becomes  almost 
revolting,  through  a  clumsy  touch  of  real- 
ism. Then,  the  hoofs  of  the  animals  are 
shod  with  casters,  while  all  other  details  are 
equally  commercialized  to  the  limits  of 
vulgarit}'. 

The  dining  table  here  illustrated,  has  the 
same  fault  as  the  "Morris  chair,"  in  that  it 
is,  so  to  speak,  built  around  a  hideous  leg; 
the  offending  member  in  this  instance  being- 
girdled  with  zones  of  groovings  which  re- 
call the  plaitings  and  frills  of  the  petticoats 
worn  by  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV. 

Our  final  illustration  has  been  reserved 
as  a  fitting  climax  of  the  series  of  things  to 
be  avoided  in  both  making  and  acquiring. 
The  object  represented  is  in  itself  a  decep- 
tion, since  if  its  interior  corresponded  to  the 
impression  given  by  its  exterior,  it  could 
have  no  place  outside  a  cellar  or  a  public  wine 
room.  Far  from  affording  a  suggestive 
ornament  for  the  dining  room  in  which  it 
might  be  placed,  it  would  serve  only  to  de- 
grade such  surroundings.  In  construction 
it  is  false,  for  the  cask-form,  complete  even 
to  the  spigot-hole,  tells  an  architectural  lie, 
which  is  acknowledged  by  the  open  door 
displaying  shelves  and  glasses.     In  senti- 


ment, also,  the  object  is  entirely  false,  for 
the  wine  l)arrol  is  the  proper  adjunct  only 
of  those  typical  German  cellars,  in  which 
students  celebrate  their  knclpen  and  burgo- 
masters and  councillors  noisily  discuss  mu- 
nicipal  affairs.     Elsewhere,  it  is  inappro- 


N'unilMr  7 


priate  and  vulgar.  It  is,  therefore,  doubly 
to  be  censured,  and,  as  it  recalls,  even  thougli 
in  travesty,  the  memory  of  Germany,  it  may 
be  permitted  to  announce  its  own  condennia- 
tion  in  tlie  speech  of  Goethe.  It  warns  tiie 
craftsman  for  his  guidance  in  the  exercise 
of  his  trade,  as  plainly  as  words  could  do ; 
sa^'ing  to  him :  "Thou  must  resist,  re- 
nounce, refrain !"  For  truth  in  work,  as 
well  as  in  life,  is  simple,  while  deceit  is  com- 
plex, and  constant  vigilance  is  the  price 
demanded  of  the  builder  or  fashioner  who 
would  keep  himself  froin  inconsistency  and 
vagaries. 


C« 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


CANVAS   CURTAINS   WITH   LINEN 
APPLIQUE 

THE  curtains  licre  represented  are 
especially  pleasing  in  texture  and 
color.  It  is,  therefore,  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the}'  must  be  illus- 
trated in  black  and  white,  for  no  adequate 
idea  can  be  formed  of  their  harmonious 
effect.  The  texture  is  an  interesting  weave 
of  imported  canvas,  of  which  the  use  is 
restricted  to  Tlie  Craftsman  workshops. 
The  thi-eads   of  tJiis   fabric  are   somewhat 


loosel}'  woven,  and  the  surface  rough 
enough  to  give  a  slightly  mottled  color. 

The  applique  is  done  in  a  closely  woven 
linen  to  which  the  name  "bloom"  has  been 
given,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  warp  and 
woof  are  of  different  colors :  a  device  which 
assures  a  charming  variety  of  effect  de- 
pendent upon  accidents  of  light. 

The  designs  used  are  strong  and  asser- 
tive, as  they  must  be,  in  order  to  meet  the 
demands  of  the  position  in  which  they  are 
placed ;  tlic  requisites  of  each  design  being 
iierc  mass,  cohesiveness,  and  the  exclusion 
of  detail  which  would  produce  a  "spotty" 
effect  by  invading  the  expanse  of  beautiful 
unified  surface. 

The  first  design  is  a  variant  of  the  oldest 
of  all  floral  patterns,  tlie  lotus,  although  it 
here  appears  in  an  obscure  and  "simplified" 
form.  The  blossoms  rise  from  a  stepped 
base,  suggesting  the  stones  of  a  wall,  in 
accordance  with  the  old  idea  that  the  temple 
represented  the  world,  and  tliat  the  plant  is 
therefore  growing.  The  tliinness  and  the 
licight  of  the  stems  are  corrected  by  the 
spread  of  the  leaves  which  occurs  a  short 
distance  below  the  flowers. 

The  colors  used  in  the  first  design  are  a 
deep-toned,  soft  blue  for  the  body  of  the 
curtain,  pomegranate-red  for  the  flowers, 
yellow-green  for  the  bases  and  the  stems, 
with  ultra-marine  blue  for  all  outlines.  In 
tlie  fabric  forming  the  flower-shapes,  the 
"bloom,"  or  changeable  effect  is  produced 
by  a  mingling  of  crimson  and  bright  yellow 
tlireads ;  while  in  the  case  of  the  standards 
and  stems,  the  colors  woven  together  are 
green  and  rose. 

The  second  design  is  adapted  from  a 
Nortli  American  Indian  7notif.  Here  the 
"nightbird"  appears  projected  against  the 


626 


CANVAS   CURTAINS 


iiiooiu  ill  an  ornament  recalling  the  Egyp- 
tian winged  sphere.  This  pattern  is  ap- 
j)lie<:l  at  three-quarters  the  height  of  the 
curtain,  and  is  balanced  at  the  base  by  a 
mountain  pattern,  from  wliicli  fine  lines 
reach  upward. 

The  body  of  this  curtain  is  canvas  of  a 
soft  brick,  or  Pompeian  red.  It  offers  with 
the  various  applications  a  scheme  of  color 
which  the  eye  seeks  again  and  again,  and 
always  with  increasing  pleasure.  In  the 
lower  pattern,  the  pyramids  are  alternate- 


ly of  grcen-and-rose  and  bluo-and-green 
"bloom"  linen.  In  the  upper  pattern,  the 
moon  appears  in  old  gold,  with  the  "night- 
bird"  in  the  same  green-and-rose  fabric 
which  occurs  in  the  base.  Upon  this  curtain 
the  outlines  are  done  witli  the  usual  linen 
floss,  in  a  warm  tone  of  olive-green. 

The  third  design  shows  the  "thunder- 
bird,"  a  favorite  motif  of  certain  Indian 
tribes  of  the  Northwest,  which  is  found  in 
their  pottery  and  their  basketrj'.  It  is 
licre  used  in  a  succession  of  disconnected 


697 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


units,  set  above  a  double  and  continuous 
series  of  mountains ;  the  whole  system  of 
ornament  being  enclosed  by  lines  which  draw 
together  the  separate  elements. 

As  to  harmony  of  color,  this  scheme  is, 
perhaps,  the  most  pleasing  of  the  three ; 
suggesting,  as  it  does,  the  soft  notes  of  an 
old  cloisonne  vase.  The  applique  is  wrought 
upon  a  moss  green  canvas  background,  with 
tlie  birds  in  green-and-blue  linen, — produc- 
ing an  old  turquoise  effect. — and  the  moun- 
tains in  pomegranate.  To  this  scheme  the 
bright  yellow  outlining  gives  accent  and 
distinction,  while  it  detracts  nothing  from 
that  blended  orchestration  of  color  which  is 
the  chief  quality  to  be  sought  in  textile 
studies. 


CHIPS     FKO]\I     THE     CRAFTSMAN 
WORKSHOr 

THE  CRAFTSMAN,  in  carelessly 
turning  the  leaves  of  a  comedy 
l)y  Alfred  de  Musset,  chanced,  the 
other  day,  upon  an  unexpected 
tliought.  It  was  expressed  by  a  personage 
whose  name,  Fantasio,  gave  the  key  to  his 
character.  He  had  been  idly  wishing  for 
change:  to  be  transformed  into  a  certain 
luiknown  passer-bj',  or  to  be  transported  to 
the  moon.  Then,  a  graver  mood  came  to 
possess  iiim,  and  as  responsive  to  his  emo- 
tions as  an  Eolian  harp  to  the  wind,  he  cried 
out:  "The  spirit  can  open  wings  wide  as 
the  firmament,  in  a  cell  as  narrow  as  the 
human  hand." 

This  sentence  remained  in  the  mind  of 
The  Craftsman,  pervading  it  slowly,  as  the 
sunlight  persistently  chases  shadow  from  a 
darkened  area,  until  the  whole  expanse  seems 

628      ■ 


to  smile  and  glow.  It  dissipated  for  him 
the  cares  of  the  day,  and  made  his  labor  at 
his  bench  light  and  easy.  It  was  thus  in- 
spiring, because  it  embodied  a  pure  and 
elevated  truth. 

Yet  it  must  be  predicated  that  the  Crafts- 
man did  not  receive  it  in  the  character  of  a 
sermon.  That  would  have  been  to  destroy 
its  usefulness.  It  did  not  reach  him  from  a 
carven  pulpit  rising  far  above  his  head.  Nor 
was  it  uttered  by  one  who,  cloistered  about 
by  fortunate  circumstances,  pitied  those  less 
largely  endowed  than  himself,  without  being 
able  to  sympathize,  that  is  :  suffer  with  them. 
It  came  to  him  from  an  author  beaten  by 
the  storms  of  life;  one  who  had  drained  to 
tlic  dregs  botli  the  chalice  of  sorrow  and  the 
debauching  cup  of  sin  ;  one  who  could  say 
with  truth  that  nothing  human  was  foreign 
to  him. 

Tjie  Craftsman,  therefore,  received  the 
sentence  as  the  speech  of  man  to  man,  of 
brotlicr  to  brotlier.  He  proceeded  to  adapt 
it  to  his  own  needs  and  to  devise  means  b\' 
which  it  might  benefit  others.  As  far  as  it 
concerned  his  own  case,  ho  felt  that  his  keen 
appreciation  of  its  truth  resulted  from  the 
experiences  of  his  life.  Through  these  he 
had  been  turned,  j^artly  from  necessity, 
partly  from  choice,  from  what  is  regarded 
as  an  existence  of  large  opjiortunitics  to  one 
of  narrow  limitations.  Things  which  he 
iiad  once  seen  in  perspective  and  with  their 
contours  softened  and  absorbed  by  ambient 
light,  he  had  confronted  in  all  their  sharp- 
ness. He  had  learned  to  distinguish  the 
real  from  the  unreal,  and  from  this  moment 
of  enlightenment,  tiie  real  had  resided  for 
him  in  immaterial  things:  that  is,  in  the 
pleasures  which  are  open  to  all  who  are  pro- 
vided with  the  bare  necessities  of  life — and 


BOOK   UKVIKWS 


what  honest,  able-bodied  num  can  be  without 
them?  Pleasures  sucli  as  are  to  be  derived 
from  the  sight  of  the  constantly  renewed 
and  eternal  robe  of  Nature,  from  the  pur- 
suit of  a  favorite  study,  from  the  compan- 
ionship of  friends,  and  even  from  mingling 
with  the  throngs  of  the  street. 

The  sentence  brought  to  the  mind  of  the 
Craftsman  memories  of  the  great,  the 
earnest,  the  truly  successful  of  the  world, 
and  it  became  plain  to  him  that  the  iiiLMnora- 
ble  ones,  almost  without  exception,  had  re- 
leased themselves  from  the  domination  of 
things  and  swept  their  lives  bare  of  all  save 
the  essential.  Historical  examples,  it  is 
unnecessary  to  sa}-,  presented  themselves  in 
great  number,  but  with  them  came  one 
modern  instance,  iipcm  whicli  the  tliouglit  of 
the  laborer  dwelt  with  peculiar  satisfaction. 

It  was  that  of  a  master  craftsman,  who, 
gifted  and  learned,  distinguished  by  both 
personality  and  social  relations,  sits  daily 
in  his  immaculate,  sparsely  furnished  cell 
upon  the  Thames,  toiling  upon  his  Book 
Beautiful,  and  holding  it  not  too  precious 
to  be  associated  with  bare  floors  and  un- 
cushioned  chairs,  since  he  is  unconscious  of 
such  conditions,  and  knows  only  that  for 
him  the  work  itself  fills  and  illumines  the 
room  with  the  radiance  of  art. 

Such  enthusiasm  the  Craftsman  believes 
to  be  the  effulgent  light  of  the  modern  Holy 
Grail,  whose  quest  the  youth  of  our  time 
should  be  prepared  by  their  elders  to  follow. 
The  Grail  is  the  simple  life,  which  is  not 
necessarily  the  humble  life;  rather  one 
which,  made  brilliant  by  accomplishment,  is 
pursued  with  equal  contentment  and  self- 
restraint,  in  the  great  mansion,  or  the  cell 
metaphorically  "as  narrow  as  the  human 
hand." 


BOOK  UE\  lEWS 

FKKNCH  AND  English  Fuuxituee 
is  the  title  of  a  beautifully  printed 
and  illustrated  volume,  written  by 
Esther  Singleton.  Its  arrangement  is  es- 
pecially to  be  commended,  since  it  is  divided 
into  sections  whicii  ma}'  be  easily  studied; 
each  section  being  devoted  to  some  famous 
style,  the  French  examples,  as  originals, 
preceding,  and  the  English,  as  modifications, 
following.  In  this  way,  the  Louis  XIII.  is 
treated  in  connection  witli  tlie  Jacobean 
period,  and  tlie  Louis  XV.  with  the  Chip- 
pendale; wliile  the  period  of  Louis  XVI.  is 
followed  by  studies  upon  Adam,  Heppel- 
white  and  Sheraton.  The  text  is  admirably 
written,  containing  extended  quotations 
from  authorities  like  Jacquemart  and 
Havard,  and  long  extracts  from  tlie  writ- 
ings of  the  famous  English  cabinet-makers, 
whose  words  are  only  less  interesting  than 
their  beautiful  work.  The  illustrations  are 
so  chosen  tliat  tlie  inexperienced  may  gai'.i 
quickly  a  definite  idea  of  each  of  the  periods 
treated,  from  the  numerous  perspectives, 
profiles  and  details  which  are  gatiiered  upon 
large  plates.  The  book  is  addressed  to  the 
student,  the  cabinet-maker  and  tlie  uphol- 
sterer ;  but  it  is  in  no  sense  a  manual ;  it  is 
rather  a  compendious  reference  book  having 
literary  merit  and  showing  on  the  part  of 
its  owner  critical  knowledge,  as  well  as  dis- 
criminating taste. 

French  and  English  Furniture,  by  Esther 
Singleton,  illustrated  from  original  sources 
by  H.  D.  Nichols;  New  York,  McClure, 
Phillips  &  Co.,  1903;  size  T'/i  xll  inclics; 
profusely  illustrated;  pages  39-1. 

The  Cathedrals  ok  Noutheux  Franc  e 


iil9 


THE   CRAFTSMAN 


and  DiCKKXs'  I.oxiiox  are  tlic  titles  of  iwo 
l)()oks,  attraetive  before  tliev  arc  read,  hv 
reason  of  their  convenient  size  anil  the  in- 
tcrestinj;;  pictures  in  which  they  abound. 
Both  are  examples  of  the  local  guide-book 
of  the  present  day.  which  has  been  enlarged 
from  the  old  pattern,  until  it  no  longer  re- 
sembles a  potion  of  bitter  medicine  which 
must  be  swallowed  in  oi'der  to  insure  comfort 
and  pleasure.  An  excelknit  feature  of  the 
book,  is  the  introduction  of  minor  exam- 
ples of  architecture,  such,  for  instance, 
as  the  cathedrals  of  l)i  joii,  Cleans  and  other 
small  cities,  which  contain  features  neces- 
sary to  be  studied  by  one  who  would  acquire 
oven  a  general  and  amateur  knowledge  of 
the  most  admirable  moiumiental  i)uilding 
style  as  yet  ])roduced.  An  interesting  detail 
in  the  making  of  the  book  consists  in  small 
maps,  printed  in  rid  upon  a  uliitr  back- 
ground, which  appear  on  the  inside  of  the 
cover  and  on  the  page  opposite  and  form  a 
part  of  a  decorative  scheme. 

The  second  book,  Dickens'  Loiidmi.  car- 
ries in  its  title  alone  a  strong  eli'ment  of 
interest :  especially  for  one  who  has  threaded 
the  labyrinth  of  streets  and  the  maze  of 
humanity  which  exist  .'diout  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  The  work  is  modestly  addressed  by 
its  anthcu'  to  '"a  considerable  number  of  per- 
sons, travelers,  lovers  of  Dickens,  enthusi- 
asts ct  (lis.,  who  may  i)e  glad  of  a  work  to 
remind  them  in  a  way  of  what  exists  to-day 
of  the  I>ondon  Dickens  knew,  as  well  as  of 
the  changes  which  have  taken  place  since  the 
novelist's  time."  This  ascription  should  bo 
gladly  accepted,  since  the  book  is  one  with 
which  to  lighten  tlie  tedious  hours  of  stormy 
evenings,  whose  name  is  now  legion  in  our 
climate,  with  no  present  prospect  of  a  dinu'- 
nution  of  the  tribe. 
(>30 


The  Cathedrals  of  Northern  France,  by 
Francis  Miltoun,  with  eighty  illustrations, 
plans  and  diagrams  by  Blanche  McManus. 
Boston,  L.  C.  P.ige  iV  Company,  1904< ;  size 
514x8  inches;  pages  400;  price  $1.60. 

Dickens'  London,  by  Francis  Miltoun. 
Boston,  L.  C.  Page  &  Company.  190-i;  size 
51,4x8  inches;  with  many  illustrations  and 
jilans  :  ])ages  !3()0  ;  price  $1.60. 


ThK    ARtHlrbXT    AXl)    BllLDElis'    ]\I,^G.\- 

zixK  is  now  jiublishing  a  series  of  admirable 
illustrated  articles  entitled:  "Foreign  Les- 
sons in  ]Municij)al  Lnprovements,"  by  ^Ir. 
Frederick  S.  Lamb,  the  distinguished  artist 
and  writer  whose  argument  for  the  Com- 
mercial \'alue  of  Design  appears  in  the 
current  lunnber  of  The  Craftsnian,  which 
he  constantly  honoi's  «  ith  liis  counsels,  and  to 
\\  hich  he  has  often  before  contributed.  The 
Hrst  named  series  discusses  the  treatment  of 
city  squares,  river  embankments  and  high- 
ways, and  should  be  read  by  all  those  who 
Jicknowledge  public  art  to  be  "a  fire  built 
ujion  the  market  place,  where  everyone  may 
light  his  torch." 

IMoDEiiN  Designs  ix  Jewelry  and  Faxs 
is  the  title  of  the  special  winter  number  of 
th.e  Liternaticmal  Studio  for  1901-2.  This 
brochure  is  now  eagerly  sought  by  a  large 
public,  to  whom  the  designs  of  Rene  Lalique, 
and  other  French  artists,  ha\e  come  to  be 
of  great  interest.  The  plates  contained  in 
the  brochure  are  beautifully  executed,  and 
the  work  is  divided  into  two  parts,  each  of 
wliich  is  preceded  by  a  valuable  ])aper,  writ- 
ten by  a  distinguished  critic. 

Published  by  the  International  Studio, 
New-  York,  67  Fifth  Avenue ;  price  $1 .75. 


1 N  D  E  X 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 


Volume   y 


Index  to  WA.  \  of  The  Craftsman 

TOPIC  INDEX 


Adapiation  of  Ornament;  see  Ornament 
Aleutian  Islands,  Basketry  of;  see  Basketry 
Art;  see  Silversmith's  Art;  see  DeerticM 
Art    and    the   Beaiiri    of   Earth    (William 

Morris) 397 

Art  as  the  Education  of  Man 3<;7 

Art,  A  Forgotten  (Isabel  Moore) 485 

Art,  Decorative;  see  Decorative  Art 

Art,  Domestic  (Charlotte  (lilman  Perkins)    512 

Art,  Egyptian 260 

Art,  Gothic 540,  541 

Art,  Cireek 260,  540 

Art,    Indian;    see   Wall    Coverings,    Nur- 
sery; see  Scarfs,  Table 
Art  Industry  of  the  Bayous,  An  (Irene  Sar- 
gent)        71 

The  pottery  of  Neivcomb  College.  ...      71 
Its  place  in  America's  artistic  Renas- 
cence        77 

Art,  Japanese;  see  Japanese  Art 

Art,  Japanese  (William  Morris) 497 

Art  N'ouveau,  I.'    (S.  Bing;   translated  by 

I  rene  Sa  rgent ) i 

Definition i 

Its  principles 2 

Productions 4 

Its  first  manifestations 5,  7 

Exaggerations   11 

Its  position  in  the  several  countries 

II,  12,  13,  14,  15 

The  future  of  I'Art  N'ouveau 15 

Art  Nouveau,  L'  113,  447 

Art  of  the  Russians,    The  Racial   (M.  Ca- 
briel  Mourey.  Adapted  bv  Irene  Sargent)     43 
Complex  heredity  of  the  Russians.  ...      43 
The  racial  change  shown  through  art 

43,  44 

The  barbaric  splendor  of  the  art 44 

A  Russian  village 46 

Peasant  art 46,  47 

The  general  culture  movement 49 

Arts  and  Crafts,  Hingham;  see  Hingham 
.Arts  and  Crafts 


PAGE 
.\rts  and  Crafts  Societies,  Recent  Exhibi- 
tions of 315 

Art,  The,  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted  (Ar- 
thur Spencer) 105 

.Artificiality  of  landscape  gardening.  .    105 

Change  wrought  by  Olmsted 106 

His  methods 108,  109,  no,  in 

Parks  laid  out 109 

His   ideal 112 

Basket;  see  Hingham  .Arts  and  Crafts;  see 

Inventions 
Basketry  of  the  Aleutian  Islands  (C.  Gads- 
den Porcher) 575 

The  islands  and  their  grasses 575 

Basket  making 576,  el  seg. 

Beetle;  see  Decoration,  The  Insect  in 

Belgium 8,  9,  309 

Bing,  L'Art  Nouveau;  see  Art  Nouveau 
Book-Illustrations,  Japanese  (Leon  Mead)    144 

Japanese  books 144 

Prints 144,  145,  146 

Principles  of  Japanese  art 147 

Book-Plate,  The   Decorative,   A    Plea    for 

(Frank  Chouteau  Brown) 552 

Book  Reviews loi,  200,  318,  417,  520,  629 

Bricks,    Sun-Dried,    Sermons    in    (Harvey 

Ellis) 213 

The  true  art  of  the  Spanish  missions.  .   213 
Browning's  Message  to  Artists  and  Crafts- 
men of  To-day  (George  Wharton  Jaincs)   149 
Bungalow,  How  to  Build  a  fllarvey  Ellis)  253 
\  simple  home  and  furnishings.  .253  ft  seq. 

Cabinet  Making,  Metal  Work  in 457 

Cabinets;  see  Chests  and  (^abincls 
Ceramic  Products  of  Sevres,  The  Latest.  .    378 
Conformation  to  modern  ideas  of  art.  .    379 

Policy  of  Sevres 379,  380 

.\rtists  and  their  work 381,  382,  383 

Materials    383 

Porcelain 384 

Colors  and  forms 384,  385 

Chests  and  Cabinets,  .Ancient  and  Modern 
(Grace  L.  SliKum)  363 


TAOh 

\'uiious  uses  for  cllesl^ 263,  264 

Their  antiquity 264 

\'arietics  of  chests 266 

Materials   267 

A  Russian  chest 268 

Modern  chests 270 

Chips  Irnm  the  Craftsnum  \\'orkshn|): 

The  Ln\'ers  <tf  Siniplicit\ 100 

President  Roosevelt 193 

The  Flood  of  Fiction 195 

Handicraft  in  the  Schools 197 

Belgium    309 

The      Mai{nihcence      of      the      Lower 

Classes   413 

The  Simple  Life 518 

The  Flight  of  the  Spirit 628 

Ciphers,  The  Sacred  (  Car\  1  Coleman  )... .  207 

The  object  of  ornamentation 207 

Pagan  symbols 207 

The  Clirisma 208,  209 

Lahariini 209 

riie  L  H.  8.  monogram 209,  210,  211 

Civic    Heaiil\,     Handicraft    Workers    and 

(Charles  Mulford  Robinson) 235 

Relation  of  handicrafts  to  beaut\ 235 

The  duty  of  the  craftstnaii 236 

Metliae\'al  cisic  art 236,  237 

The  civic  art  crusade  in  Kelgium.  .  .  .  287 

The  cit\'s  op[>ortiinit\ 23S,  239 

Clay  Modeling   (C.  Valentine  KIrby),...  490 

Chil),  llomelniilders'.  Aimotmcement  of...  524 
See  Chips. 

Color,  A  Note  of  (Harvey  F.llis) 153 

Color  Prints.  Japanese,  and  Sortie  of  their 

Makers  (NL  Louise  Stouell  ) 53 

Influence  of  insulat   positicpii  upott  art.  53 

Influence  of  Hiuldhism  on  art 53 

Oriental  and  Occidental  art 56 

Original   form 55 

Making  of  Avooti-cuts ^7,  59 

Rival   Schools 61 

Artists 61,  63,  65 

Method-    66 

Influence  id'  Western  art 67 

C"oiii;  sec  Honor,  .\  Mark  of 

Correspondence 316 

See  Chips 


C^ottages     anti     Contentment,     C^lncerning 

(Alice  M.  Rathboiie) 

Cottages,  Certain  Craftsman 

Description    antl    plans,    exterior    and 

interior 595,  I'i 

Craftsmanship:  see  .Arts  and  Crafts 

in   tlie   \eu    York  Schools 
(  Jacob  1.  Milsner  I 

The  beginning  of  manual  training.  .  . 

Perfection  of  system 

Success  and  Failure  in    1  Douglas  \*an 
Oenburgh) 

The  essentials  of  craftsmanship 

Curtains,  Canvas,  with  linen  at'l'liqui' .  .  .  . 

Decoration,    I'he  Insect  in  (  M.  P.-\'erneiul, 

translated  b\   Irene  Sargent) 

Beauty  of  insects 563,  564,  565, 

Morphology 567,  568, 

Classification 569,  570, 

I  he  "Pra\  ing  Locust" 

.M.  Lalii)ue 573, 

Decoration;  see  Rudder,  Madame  de 
Decorati\  e  Art,  The  .A  B  C  of 

An  arrangement  of  spaces 

Examples 293  et 

Deerfield,    (»ld.    From    Merton    Abbev    to 
(  Jane    Pratt ) 

Hislors  of  Merton  .\bbey 

Morris's  methods 1S5, 

()rigin  of    Deerfield 

Deerfield  methods    

Products   

Design,   Commercial    \'alue  of    (Frederick 
S.   Lamb) 

Ornament  as  value 546, 

\'aluc  of,  dependent  upon  labor 

Value  added  by  design 547, 

This  fact  recogni/ed  in  luigland.  .548, 

liermany 549, 

.America 550, 

Dining  Room,  .A  Simple 

Dwelling,    The    Workinginan's     (Charles 
(ians,  iianslateil  h\  Irene  Sargent) 

Fhe  condition  of  the  w'frrkingman .  367, 

The  beginning  of  social  betterment.. 

Tenements 368. 

Napoleon  Third's  reforms 


593 

575 


'•'/■ 


3"5 
306 

307 

617 
617 
626 

566 
569 
571 


574 

2S9 
289 

Sl-'J. 

183 
183 
.87 
187 
189 
191 

54'' 
547 
547 
54S 
549 
550 
551 
88 

357 
368 
36S 
369 
369 


Modern   tenements 

Individual  homes 371,  372, 

The  socialization  of  beauty 

The  beauty  of  simplicity 

Some  modern  homes 

Karth,  The  Beauty  of,  and  Art;   see  Art 

and  the  Beauty  of  Karth 
Fnibroidery,  see  Hinsjham  Arts;  see  Sten- 
ciled Fabrics 
Knglish;    see    Interior,    an    Knglish;     see 

Jewelry,  English 
Kxhihiiions,  Recent,  of  Arts  and  t'rafts  So- 
cieties 
Fabrics,  Stenciled;  see  Stenciled  Fabrics 

False  KtTort  to  be  Fine,  A 

Fxamples  of  false  art 622  el 

Fifiurehead;  see  Art,  A  Forgotten 

Floors,   Hardwood 

Franciscan  Mission  Buildings  of  Califor- 
nia (George  Wharton  James) 

History  of   the   founding  of  the   mis- 
sions  323, 

Plan  of  missions 

Description  of  illustrations 

325.  327,  329. 

Present  status  of  missions 

Effect  of  missions  upon  Indians.  .  .334. 
Furniture;  see  Art  Nouveau,  1.';  see  House, 
A  Craftsman:  see  Interior,  An  English; 
see    False   Effort,    A;  see   Structure   and 
Ornament;  see  Pining  Room,  A  Simple 
(iothic  Art;  see  Art,  Gothic 
Greek  Art;  see  Art,  Greek 

Hardwood  Floors 

Hingham    Arts    and    Crafts    (C.    Chester 

I.ane) 

Ubject 

The  "Dark  Ages"  of  art 276, 

Foundation  of  Hingham  Society 

Methods 277,  278, 

Various  industries 277,  279, 

Home,  Present  Conditions  of  the 

Hiinehuilders'  Club,  Announcement  of  the 

Hiinor,  A  Mark  of  (Caryl  Coleman) 

Origin  of  nimbus 

The  pagan  religions 18,  19,  20, 

American   Indians 


I'ACK  I'ACE 

370  Adoption  In    Christians 20,  21 

373  Different  forms  and  signirication 

374  23,  24.  25,  26 

375  House,  A  Craftsman,  Series  of  1904.     De- 

376  scription  and  plans, exterior  and  interior, 
with  estimates: 

House  Number  One 399 

House  Number   Two 499 

House  Number  Three 585 

House;  see  Cottages;  Bungalow  ;  Color,  A 
Note   of;    Room,   An   Ordinary;    Dining 
Room,  A  Simple 
Improvement,    Village;    sec    \'illage    Irn- 

provetTient 
Indian  Art;  see  Wall  Coverings,  Nurserv 
Indians,    The,  of  the  Franciscan   Missions 

(Cjeorge  Wharton  James) 599 

Early  Spanish  explorations.  .599,  601,  603 
Habits  and  Customs  of  the  Indians 

604,  605,  606 

Legends 606,  607 

Ceremonies 608.  609 

The  labor  of  the  missionaries 610,  611 

The  CJovernineni  policy 611,  el  sen. 

The  present  sittiation 615,  616 

Indians:  see  Inventions,  Primitive 
Insect  in  Decoration;  see  Decoration 

Interior  Treatments,  Recent  English 509 

Style  unlike  others 509,  511 

Inventions,    Primitive    (CJeorge    Wharton 

James) 125 

Our  debt  to  the  Indian 126,  129 

,g.  Invention  of  the  basket 127 

Buckskin    dressing 129 

2y5  Pottery    1 30 

276  Blankets 130,   131 

277  Sex  division  of  labor 134,  135 

277  Food  preparation 136 

281  Soap   137 

281       Japanese  Art;  see  Book  Illustrations,  Jap- 
524  anese;  see  Watanabe,  Seitei ;  see  t'kio- 

524  \  c  School 

17       Japanese     Br)ok     illustrations;     see     Himk 
17  Illustrations,  Japanese 

,  21        Japanese   Color    Prints;    see   Color    Prints, 
21  Japanese 


621 
164 


325 
325 

33' 

383 

335 


PAGE 

Jarvic,  Robert,  The  Work  of;  see  Work  of 

Robert  Jarvie 
Jewelry;  see  Art  Nouveau,  I,';  see  Deco- 
ration, The  Insect  in 
Jewelry,  English,  Recent  P^xainples  of.  ...      69 
Lace     School,    A     Government     (adapted 

from  the  French ) 77 

Attempts  to  establish  indiistr\ 

78,  79,  80,  81 

Schools  founded 80 

Art  revival 81 

Description  of  work S3,  84,  85 

I.aliquc,  M.  Rene  ( Dr.  H.  Piidor) 619 

Locust;  see  Decoration,   The  Insect  in 

Manual  Training  and  Citizenship 407 

Education  of  hand  and  brain 407 

Manual  training  a  necessit\' 410 

Manual  Training  and  the  Development  of 

Taste   513 

Principles  of  struct m'e 516,  517 

Material,  Inspiration  in  (t'harles  F.  Binns)  260 
(ireek  and  Egyptian  art  influenced  by 

material    260 

Venetian  glass 261 

Clay 261,  262 

Color   262,  263 

(ilaze 262,  263 

Merton  Abbey;  see  Deertield,  From  Mer- 
ton  .Abbey  to 

Metal  Work  in  Cabinet  Making 457 

Mission;    see    Indians    of    the    Franciscan 

Missions 
Mission    Bells    of    .Monterey,    The    (Bret 

Harte) 335 

Mission    Buildings;    see    Franciscan    Mis- 
sions 
Mission.  Spanish  ;  see  Bricks,  Sun-Dried 
Mission  Style,  The  Influence  of  the,  upon 
the  Civic  and  Domestic  Architecture  of 
California  (George  \\'harton  James)..  .    458 
The  conditions  surrounding  its  origin 

458,  459.  460 

Characteristics 461,  462,  463 

Modern  designs 465,  et  seq. 

Municipal  Improvements,  The  Importance 

of  (John  DeWitt  Warner) 362 

riie  twentieth  centur\  cit\' 362,  363 


P.^GE 

The  essentials  of  a  city 364 

Benefits  of  beauty 365 

Public  art  tlie  great  art 366 

Needlework,  Art,  in  Newcoinb  College...    282 
Materials  and  motifs 284,  et  seq. 

Newcornb  College 71,  2S2 

Notes : 

Whistler    316 

;\rt  Schools 421,  422 

I  llnisled,  Frederick  Law,  The  Art  of;   see 
.\rt  of  Frederick  Law  ()hnsted 

()rnament;  see  Structure  and  Ornament 

(Jrnament,  'Fhe  .Adaptation  of,  to  Space 
(  M.     P.-\'erneuil,    translated    b\     Irene 

Sargent) 470 

The  factors  and  laws  of  decoration 

470.  471 

Methods   472 

Fhe  five  systems 472,  473 

Composition   474,  475 

Dufrene's  method 475,  476,  477 

I'he  ideas  of  Benedicttis 477,  478 

M.  Mucha 478,  479 

M.  Simas 480 

M.  Lalique 481,  482 

The  possibilities  of  decorative  art.4S3,  4S4 
Parks;  see  Art  of  Frederick  Law  Olmsted 

Pictured  Poesies  (Eilith  M(Hire) 239 

Pillows,  Three  Craftsman  Canvas 94 

Portieres,  Craftsman  Canvas 169 

Pottery;  see  Art  Nouveau,  L' ;  see  Art  In- 
dustry of  the  Bayous;  see  Ceramic  Prod- 
ucts ;  see  Clay 

Pre-Rapbaelites   7 

Primitive  Inventions:  see  Inventions 
Rebus;  see  Pictured  Poesies 
Rodin,     Augustc      (Jean      Schopfer      and 
Claude  Anet,   translated   bv   Irene   Sar- 
gent)      525 

Tradition 539,  540,5  ji 

CJreek  and  Gothic  art 540,  541 

His  application  of  it 543,  545 

H  is  genius   545 

Room,  An  Ordinary,  What  may  be  Done 

with   167 

Rudder,  Mine,  de,  A  Belgian  Decorative 
.Artist  (translated  bv  Irene  Sargent)  .  ...    171 


The  art  of  the  Low  Countries.  . .  .171,  172 
Early  studies  of  Mme.  de  Rudder.  173,  174 

Embroiderj-    174 

"The  Seasons" 178,  180 

Ruskin  as  a  Master  of  Prose 583 

Ruskin's     Eightieth     Birthday      (Frederic 

Harrison) 598 

Russians,    The  Racial  Art  of  the;  see  Art, 

Racial 
Sacred  Ciphers;  see  Ciphers,  Sacred 

Scarfs,  Table,  with  Indian  Desij;ns 507 

Schools,  the  New  York,  Craftsmanship  in.    305 
Silversmith's    Art,    The     (Jean    Schopfer, 
translated  by  Irene  Sargent)  : 

In  the  Middle  Ages 113 

L'Art  Nouveau;  a  revival 1 1,? 

Need  for  study  of  past.  . .  .113,  114,  115 

History  of  ornamentation 116 

.Methods  117 

Description  of  examples 11%,  el  sey. 

The  XIII,  XIV  and  XV  Centuries. ...    217 
Characteristics  of  XIII  century  art 

217,  218 

Lack  of  secular  work 

219,  220,  221,  222 

Description  of  illustrations.  .223,  ft  seq. 

"The  Virgin  and  Child" 224,  225 

Repousse  making 226 

Reliquaries 228,  229 

Renascence    231 

Silversmiths'  corporation 233,  234 

Future  of  the  art 234 

The  XVI,  XVII  and  XVIII  Centuries  337 
Influence    of    the    Renascence    and 
Reformation     upon     the     modern 

"'"■■'d 337.  338.  339-  340 

Description  of  illustrations.  .340,  el  seii- 
Change  of   st>le   in   .X\II    century, 

luxury  of  Versailles 

345.  346.  347.  348 

Destruction     of     art     treasures     by 

Louis  XIV  and  X\' 349 

Revolution  in  decorative  art 349 

Return  to  antique 350 

Rococo 352 

In  Contemporary  France 433 


l-nimportance  of  the  Xl.\  century 

433.  434 

Indusirialisni  versus  art 

435.  43<>.  437.  438 

Evolution  of  taste 438 

Work  of  Viollet-le-Duc  and   Fous- 

sielgue-Rusand 439,  440 

House  of  .Armand-Calliat 442,  443 

Illustrations  described 439,  el  seq. 

Secular  work 449,  et  seq. 

House  of  Christofle 

451,  45^.  453.  454.  455 

The  "Sycamore  Service" 454,  455 

L'Art  Nouveau;  Bing 455.  456,  457 

Squares,  Concerning  Open  (Charles  .Mul- 

ford   Robinson) 432 

Stenciled     Fabrics    in    Combination     with 

Peasant    Embroidery 286 

Method  of  manufacture 286 

Stenciling    287 

Street  Furnishings  (Charles  Mulford  Rob- 
inson ) 551 

Structure  and  Ornament  in  the  Craftsman 

Workshop   391 

The  world-wide   return  to  simplicity 

in  life 391,  392 

true  ornamentation 393,  394 

Toys,  Simple,  The  Child  Benefited  by. . .  .    298 
Ukio-Ve    School    of    Japanese    Art,     The 

(Sadakichi  Hartmann) 389 

PACE 

The  "Floating  World  Pictures" 389 

l.'rbi  et  Orbi 358 

The  city  as  a  social  unit 358 

Civic  improvements 359,  360,  361 

The  object  of    The  Craftsman 361 

\'illage  Improvement  in  the  Inited  States, 
rile  History  of   (Warren  .Manning)...   423 

Ihe  village  common 423 

Early    road-building 424 

Improvement  societies 424,  425 

Parks 425,  426 

Literary  effort  in  aid 427 

National  efforts  and  methods 431 

The  duties  of  improvement  societies.  .    432 

Wall  Coverings,  Nursery 95 

Was  Jesus  a  Carpenter?  (Ernest  Crosby)    139 


PAGE  PAGE 

No  external  proof 139  Architecline 37,   39 

Internal    evidence 139  I'msperit^  ot  Swiss 39.  41 

His  knouledjje  of  crafts 139,   140.   141  Work   of  R,)liert   Jarvie.   An   Appiecialion 

Conclusions  lirawn 142,   143  of   the 271 

Watanabe,  Seiiei    (  ^'one  NoKuchi  I 3S(.  Work  in  a  Factor>    (  William  M..rris)  ...  .    245 

Changes  caused    hv    Western    thouylii  (irowth  of  cities 245,  246 

in  Japan 386  "For  Profit's  Sake".  .  '. 246,  247 

Watanahe  as  leader 387  Claims  of  Socialism 247 

Influence    388  A  Factory  as  it  Might  Be 247,  248 

Whistler;  see  Notes  "For  Pleasure's  Sake" 248 

Woiiil,    Fhe  Ise  of,  in  Suit/erland   (Wen-  "Work  as  it  Might  he" 249,  250,  251 

dell    (;.    t'orthell)    31  Products  and  methods 250.  251 

(Jovernmenl   preservation  of  forests.  .      31  Development  of  workers'  lives 252 

Wood  iar\  inj;  industr\ 35        Woiksluips 14,  47,  49,  50 


INDEX  OF  PERSONS 


I'AliF.  PAGE 


'97 


Alarcon 321,   599        Brown     

Alcock,  John 241        Hn.wn,   Frank   Chouteau 552 

Anet,  Claude 525        Browning   149 

Ap  Harry,  Jcjhn 242        Bryant 425 

Armand-Calliat 439,  440,  442,  44;.  452        Bidla,  Senator  Robert   N 466 

Arundel,  Earl  of 243        Burleigh,  Sidney   K 270 

Astruc,   M 448        Burne-Jones 183,   357,   549,  574 

Auriol,  M 478,  479,  480,  483        Burrows,  Jolin    428 

Hard,  Sen  at(u'    riiomas 467       Bu  shoe  1 1,   Horace 427 

Barye    325       Butcher.  B.   1 427 

Baunigart.    M 384       Cable,  (ieorge  William 170 

Beardslev,  Aubre>    297        Cabrillo    321,    599 

Bellery-Oesfontaines,    M 569       Cardeilhac,   M 449,453,454,455 

Benedictus,  M.  Carpeaux    526 

473.  474.  477.  47S,  5''3.  5'>4.  Sf'S.  5^6.  567,  572        Carpenter,   Edward 245 

Bentor.  Arthur    H 463,  465,  467       Carriere-Belleuse    525 

Berker.    M 443,  449       Casanova 331 

Bernardi,   Johannes  de 341        Ch aiming    593 

Bertillon   369       Chainiie,  Geoffroi  de 439 

King,  Marcel 456,  457       Chavannes,  Puvis  de 526,   536 

Bing,  S I.  15       (."hippendale   624 

Binns,  Charles   F 260       Christofle 443,  (7  jvy. 

Blanc,  M.  Charles 74       Clapp    427 

Blashfield    236       Cle\eland 107 

Bolton 243        Coleman,  Car)  I 17,  207 

Bonnier,  M.  Louis 376,  377       Colonna    456 

Boscana,   Fra  CJeronimo 603        Conte,  Joseph  C 461 

Boule 457       Cordier    3S2 


PACK 
Corol 526 

t'or'oy*'- 437-441.  44^.447.  44^.451 

Corlliell,  Wemlell  C; 31 

C'ounens,   M : 174 

Coiisiiiet   352 

C'rabbe,  Jan 234 

Crespi    45S 

I'ros,  Henri 379,  383 

Crosby,  Ernest 139 

Crosby,  Dick  J 42c; 

Curtin,  Jeremiali 5o8,  609 

Davvdoflf,  Mile 13 

IJay    549 

l)e   Feure 456 

Delacroix    526 

Dc  Riidiler.  Mnie 171 

Demon,  James 242 

Diaz    599 

Dow,  Arthur  W 75 

Downing,  A.  J 425.  427 

Dubois    383 

■'"frene 471,  472,  475,  476,  477,  483 

Dyer,  Colonel 270 

Dyer,  Ex-Ciovernor 263,  266 

Dyer,  H.  Anthony 266,  267 

Dysselhof 13 

Kglesfield 241 

F'^lesion    427 

Eichroilt 300,    301 

Eliot,  Charles 109,  425,  +30 

Ellis,  Harvey 153,  212,  253,  520 

Emerson 143.  163,  425 

Fages 323 

Feure,    De 456 

Ferguson,  Jame!^ 142 

Fillmore,  President 425 

Froment,    Meurice 564 

(Jale,  William  F +27 

{}ans,  Charles 361,  362,  367 

(iaskin,  Arthur 58 

(iebleux,   M 379 

(iermain 354 

(ierome   537 

CJeto,  CJenjiro 14(1 

(iibson,  Hamilton 428 

(lobelin 348 

Gounod,  Charles 335 


PAGE 

Cirahanie.   Ktiimili    298 

(irasset.  M  481,482,483 

Ciuilbert    441 

Cluillot 381 

(iuimard    384 

Hale,  Edward   Everett 267 

Hamlin.  A.  D.  F 1,  2,  4,  7,  11,  15 

Haney,  Dr.  J.  1* 307 

Haranobu 58,  61,  63 

Harrison,  Frederic 377,   598 

Harrison,  J.  B 423 

Harte,  Bret 325 

Hartmann,  Sadakiclii    389 

Hittell.  J.  S  608,  609 

Hiroshigi 

•52.  54.  55.  S^.  57.  *>.  ^5.  *7.  '46,  292.  297 

Hokusai 61,  63,  67,  144,  145,  146 

Hopkuis,  Miss  Mary  0 426 

Houdon    382 

Houssin 382 

Ho>eii   144 

Hrdlicka,  Professor 80,  Si,  82 

Hunt    142 

Huret 461.  469 

H  uy tema   13 

Hyndman,   H.   M 245 

Islip,  Abbott 242,  243 

Jackson,  Helen   Hunt 614 

Jakouncliikoff 14,  47 

James,  (ieorge  Wharton 

'25,  149,  321,  45S.   599 

Jarvie,   Robert 271 

Kano   386 

Kearney,   Cieneral 614 

Kempenfeldt,  Rear-Admiral 488 

Kikuclii    ^'osal 388 

King.  Pauline  305 

Kirby,  C.  Valentine 490 

Korin 61,  145,   146 

Kremple,  J.  P 464,  467 

Krohn,   Pletro 13 

Kropotkin,   Pierre 100,  407 

Kunasada 61,  146 

I. a  Bruyere 338 

1.3  Farge,  John 14 

l.ali<|ue,  Rene 

...69.  81,  481,  482,  483,  572,  573.   574.  619 


PA(,E  PAGE 

Lanib,   Frederick  S 546       Okio    61 

Lane,  (".   Chester 276  (llnisteil,  Frederick  Law 

Lapnrte-Blairsy 382,   383  105,  256,  358,  359,  425,  427,  430 

Larclie,    M 383       Opueiiard    349 

La.ssiis   438       Onmiii,  Mr 549 

Lasuen 45S       Palissy 261 

Le  Bruii 34S       Parks,    T.   \V 468 

Leenliardt,   M 373,  376       Peacliam    243 

Leiievre 441.  442,  4-1S,  449,  454,  ^55       Perkins,  t'harlotte  CJilman 512 

Leonard 3S1,  382       Peliiche,  M 385 

Leroux,  Mnie 385       Polenotf,  Mile.  Helene 46,  47 

Longfellow    622       Porclier,  t\  tiadsden 575 

Loudon,  J.  C 105,   109  Piiussielgue-Rusand 

Mackail,   J-    \V 574  433,434,435,436,438,439. 

Malioutinc,  M.  S 13,  50  440,  441,  442,  443,  444,  447,  +48,  45i.  454.455 

Mamimtoff,  Mine 47       Pratt,  Jane 1S3 

.Manning,  Warren  H 423       Pudor,  Dr.  H 6iq 

Marks   489       Piiecli   383 

Mason,   Professor 135       Rathbone,  Alice  M 593 

Mataliei,  Iwasa   389       Raiilt,  Mile 383 

Mattack,  Charles 269       Repton,  Sir  Humphrey 105 

Mauran,  Miss 270       Resch   142 

Maus,  Octave 8       Riviere 3S3 

Mead  Leon   144  Robinson,  Charles  Midford.  .235,  427,  432,  551 

Meissonnier 349       Rodin,  .'\ugiiste 525 

Mcstris 331,   333       Roe    268 

.Michelet 563,  564,  565.  5ft(>,  567.  574       Roose\  elt,  'Fheodore 193,  413 

Milsner,  Jacob  1 305       Rousseau   526 

Millet   526  Rudder,  de  ;  see  De  Rudder 

Milliard   384       Rude   526 

Monet,  Claude 532  Rusaiul ;  see  Puussielguc-Rusand 

Moore   14  Ruskin 

Moore,  Isabel 239,  485  7.  51,  75,  iii,  112,  143,  187.  362,  583,  592,  598 

Moore,  Lester  S 462,  466,  46S,  469       Sadihidi    62 

Morris,  William  Saint-Ciaudens ' 361 

8,  101,  112,  143,  183,  185,  187,  Sainl-Marceaux    383 

191,  245,  397,  413,  414,  416,  499,  549,  574.  f>-^       Sandier,  M 3S4 

Morton,  J.  Sterling 427       Sargent,  Irene i,  43, 

.Morse,  Edward  S 75  71,  113,  171,  217,  337,  367,  433,  470,  525,  5(13 

Mourey,  Cjabricl 43.  45        Sargent,  Professor  Charles  S 106,  430 

Much  a 475,  rl  seq.       Sauvageot 436,  442 

Namikaw-a,  Sosuke 387  Schopfer,  Jean.  .  .  .1,  15.  113,  217,  337,  433,  525 

Napoleon  III 369       Seinbold   53S 

Ncwhcrrv    243  Serra,  Junipero 

Noguchi,  \in\e   386  216,  323,  325,  331,  45 S,  460,  609,  610 

Xorthrup 427       Serrui'ier-Ho\y    9 

( )deliii,  M 370       Sesshu 55 


PACE 

Slienstone    105 

Sluirislio 66 

Siinas,  M 479,  480 

Simon,  Jules 369 

Slociim,  Cirace  L 263 

Smith,  Mary  C 594 

Gpargo,  John  ....  245 

Spencer,  Arthur 105 

Spencer,  "t'ncle  John" 429 

Steinlein 295 

Stevenson.  Robert  Louis 298,  303 

Stiles,  \V.  A 430 

Stowell,  M.  Louise 53 

Strange,  Edward 65 

Sullivan,  Louis 216 

Taylor,  J 245 

Teall.  Cjardner  C 316 

rinicheff.  Princess 13,  47,  49,  50 

Thesinar 379 

Thompson-Seton,  Ernest 428 

Thoreau   425 

Thorn-Prikker 13 

Tiffany,  Louis 14 

Toorup   13 

Torrey,   B'adford 427 

Tosa    386 

Toyokuni 60,  61,  146 

Turner 488,  489 

I'iloa 599 

I'tainaro 55,  6i.  291,  297 

A'allatnn 297 


PACE 

\'an  l)enbur);h,  Douglas 617 

\'an  de  VeKle,  Henri 9 

\aux,  t'alvert 425 

N'cniaininoff    576 

\'erncuil,  M.  P.- 

>7i.  '73.  470.  5'>3.  570.  >-'.  57^ 

Xignet    383 

Villeinlnot 439 

X'iUon,   Tranijois 536 

Viol!el-le-Duc 433,  434,  437,  438,  439 

\'iscaino 321,  599,  601 

\'ogt  384 

Voysey 302,  303,  304 

Wagner.  Charles too 

W'alpoic,  Horace 105 

Wall,   Roger 242 

Warder,  John  .X 427 

Warner.  John  OcWitt 361,  362,  546 

Watanalie.   Seitei 386 

Weeks.  William  H 463 

Whistler    316 

While,   c;ilberl 425 

Williams,  Roger 265,  266 

Willis,  N.  P 427 

\\'ords\vorth    300 

Wyllie 489 

Varna,  Bimyo 387 

Veisen 61,  65 

Volton   242 

Vusei 144 


0 


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1 

087 

V.5 


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