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THE  CRAFTSMAN 

an  Illustrated  Month- 
ly Magazine  in  the 
Interest  of  Better  Art, 
Better  Work,  and  a 
Better  and  More  Rea- 
sonable Way  of  Living. 
Volume  Sixteen, 
April,  1909-Septem- 
ber,  1909 


GUSTAV  STICKLEY,  EDITOR 
&  PUBLISHER,  41  WEST  34™ 
STREET,    NEW    YORK    CITY 


TH  E   CRAFTSMAN 


CONTENTS 


VOLUME  XVI 


APRIL,   1909— SEPTEMBER,  1909 


Als  ik  Kan 

America,  the  Prodisjal :    The  PossibiHty 

of  a  Famine  in  Wood  and  What  Can 

Be  Done  to  Avert  It 
And  These.  Too.  Are  Mothers :   A  Story 
Architecture.   American.      See   Painting, 

Mural,  in  Relation  to  Architecture. 

P-  3 

Architecture,  Carving  in.  See  Carving 
a.s  an  Expression  of  Individuality, 
p.  6o 

Architecture,  Domestic,  of  America.  See 
Plea  for  True  Democracy  in  the 
Domestic  Architecture  of  America, 
P-  251 

Arcliitecture,  (jothic.  See  How  Mediaval 
Craftsmen  Created  Beauty  by  Meet- 
ing the  Constructive  Problems  of 
Gothic  Architecture,  p.  44 

Architecture,  History  in :  Rernodeling  an 
Old  Stone  House,  and  the  Historical 
Quality  Achieved 

Architecture.  Originality  in.  See  Atter- 
biuy.  Grosvenor,  The  Theory  of,  p. 
300 

Architecture,  Permanent.  See  Value  of 
Permanent  Architecture  as  a  Truth- 
ful Eoxpression  of  National  Char- 
acter, p.  80 

Art,  American,  A  Greater  Sincerity 
Necessary  for  the  True  Develop- 
ment of 

Art,  American.  See  National  Academy 
of  Design,  More  of  the  American 
.Spirit  in  the  Spring  Exhibition  of 
the,  p.  176 

Art,  Finnish.    See  Finnish  Artists,  p.  645 

Art,  Municipal.  See  Verdure  for  the 
City  Streets,  p.  550 

Art.  .Spanish.  See  SoroUa  y  Bastida, 
Joaquin,  p.  13.    See  Zuloaga  and  the 


119.  243,  364,  481,  591,  707 


By  Charles  R.  Lamb 

Bv  Marie  Louise  Goetchius 


371 

622 


By  Charles  Matlack  Price 


316 


By  The  Editor 


50 


*x 


CONTENTS— Continued 


National  Note  in  Spanish  Art,  p.  131 

Art,  the  Grotesque  in,  A  Growing  Ap- 
preciation in  America  of :  Illustrated 
by  Some  Unusual  Handicraft  Work 
in  Bronze 

Arts  and  Crafts  Movement  in  America, 
The:  Work  or  Play? 

Arts  and  Crafts  Schools,  London  Munic- 
ipal, Where  the  Unskilled  Laborer 
Is  Trained  to  Become  a  Craftsman  to 
Supplement  His  Work  in  the  Shops 

Atterbury,  Grosvenor,  Who  Bases  All 
His  Work  upon  the  Principle  that 
Originality  in  Architecture  Springs 
only  from  the  Direct  Meeting  of 
Material  Conditions,  The  Theorj^  of 

Backyards.  See  Gardens,  Converting 
Backyards  into,  p.  70 

Bartlett,  Paul  Wayland.  See  Sculptor 
Who  Is  also  a  Craftsman,  A,  p.  437 

Batik,  or  the  Wax  Resist  Process.  See 
Dyeing,  p.  232 

Beacon  Hill,  The  Regeneration  of:  How 
Boston  Goes  about  Civic  Improve- 
ment 

Berlin,  The  Architectural  Reconstruction 
of,  the  Old  "Military  Village;"  A 
Return  to  Simplicity  and  Soberness 

Book  Reviews 

Bov  on  the  Farm,  and  Life  as  He  Sees  It, 
■  The 

Brickwork,  A  Renaissance  in :  How  the 
Modern  Product  of  the  Kiln  Is  Re- 
covering from  the  Blight  of  Perfec- 
tion: Lessons  to  Be  Learned  from 
the  Ancient  Brick  Workers 

Bronze  Work.     See  Art,  the  Grotesque 

in,  p.  356 
Building  of   Berrymount,   The:    Before 

Factory  Days 
Bungalow  of  Stone  and  Cement,  A.    See 

Houses,  Two  Craftsman,  p.  100 
Bungalow.     A     California,     Interesting 

Timber  Construction  in 
Busy  Man.  The :   A  Story 
Carnegie    Institute    at    Pittsburgh    Pre- 


356 
By  Ernest  A.  Batchelder  544 


By  Ernest  A.  Batclielder  638 


300 


92 

Bv  Andre  Tridon  670 

124,  245,  366.  487,  594,  711 


Bv  Sidnev  Morse 


195 


526 


Bv  Martha  McCulloch- 

Williams     538 


222 


By  Marjorie  Sutherland  313 


CONTENTS — Continued 


sented  as  the  American  Salon 

Carving  as  an  Expression  of  Individ- 
uality:   Its  Purpose  in  Architecture 

Churches  Built  of  Concrete  Blocks:  A 
Form  of  Construction  that  Is  Emi- 
nently Fitted  for  this  Purpose 

Cities,  Our  American,  Growth  and 
Beauty  of:  Practical  Suggestions 
Offered  by  the  Municipal  Art 
League  for  Advancement  in  Art, 
Sanitation  and  General  Comfort  of 
Metropolitan  Life 

Civic  Improvement.  See  Beacon  Hill, 
The  Regeneration  of,  p.  92 

Color :    A  Poem 

Concrete  Construction.  See  Churches 
Built  of  Concrete  Blocks,  p.  96. 
See  Houses,  Two  Craftsman,  p.  100 

Conqueror,  The:   A  Poem 

Constructive  Problems  in  Architecture. 
See  How  Mediaeval  Craftsmen 
Created  Beauty  by  Meeting  the  Con- 
structive Problems  of  Gothic  Archi- 
tecture, p.  44 

Cottage  along  English  Lines  with  Certain 
LInusual  Tendencies, 

Court,  The  Friendly,  Devised  to  Help 
Rather  than  Punish  the  Child  De- 
linquent 

Craftsmanship,  Oriental,  The  Spirit  of 

Craftsmanship,  Peruvian.  Showing  to 
What  Degree  of  Civilization  the 
Inca  Race  Had  Attained  at  the  Time 
of  the  Spanish  Conquest 

Creation  Myth  of  the  Cochans  (Yuma 
Indians) 

Dyeing : 

Modern  Dyestuffs  Applied  to  Sten- 
ciling: Number  X 
Batik,  or  the  Wax  Resist  Process : 

Number  XI 
Tied  and  Dyed  Work :   An  Oriental 
Process  with  American  Variations 

Excellent  Things 

Farming,  Dry,  in  Our  Arid  Regions, 
The    Tremendous    Economic    Gain 


By  James  B.  Townsend  383 

By  Ernest  A.  Batchelder  60 

96 


By  Allan  Updegrafif 


By  Elsa  Barker 


399 


520 


12 


By  E.  Drusille  Ford 


By  Mary  E.  Watts 
By  J.  Zado  Noorian 


464 


323 
240 


688 

By  Natalie  Curtis  559 

By  Professor  Charles  E.  Pellew 

114 
232 

695 
By  Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow  644 


CONTENTS — Continued 

By  A.  S.  Atkinson 


through, 

Field  Stone,  Split,  as  a  Valuable  Aid  in 
the  Building  of  Attractive  Bunga- 
lows and  Small  Houses 

Finnish  Artists  Who  Paint  Their  Own 
Country  and  People  with  Insight  and 
Force,  The  Work  of 

Four  Walls :  A  Poem 

Funk,  Wilhelm :  A  Painter  of  Personality 

Garden  as  a  Civic  Asset,  and  Some  Sim- 
ple Wavs  of  Making  It  Beautiful. 
The 

Garden  Ornaments.  New  Use  of  Con- 
crete for 

Garden  Showing  Careful  Thought 
throughout,  A 

Gardening  for  Pleasure  and  Profit 

Gardens,  Converting  Backyards  into : 
The  Happiness  and  Economy  Found 
in  Cultivating  Flowers  and  Vege- 
tables 

See  Lawns  and  Gardens,  p.  107: 
See  Use  of  Water  in  a  Little  Gar- 
den, p.  113:  See  Garden  as  Civic 
Asset,  The,  p.  205 

Gates  of  Fulfilment,  the :   A  Story 

Guest  Room  in  a  Simple  House,  For  the 

Home.  A  Hawaiian.  See  Realization  of 
a  Home  Ideal,  p.  687 

House  of  which  the  Owner  Was  the 
Architect,  Contractor  and  Supervisor 

House,  Plaster,  with  Roof  Garden  and 
Patio 

Houses,  Craftsman,  for  the  Home- 
builders'  Club:  A  Bungalow  of 
Stone  and  Cement  and  a  Suburban 
House  of  Concrete 
Two  Houses  to  Be  Erected  on  City 
Lots 

Two  Craftsman  Houses  Planned  to 
Show  that  Comfortable  Living 
Depends  More  upon  the  Right 
Arrangement  than  upon  the  Size  of 
the  House 

A  Study  of  Comfort  in  Home  Life: 
House  of  Wood  on  Stone  Founda- 


183 


By  Charles  Alma  Byers  576 


645 
By  Aileen  Cleveland  Higgins  509 
By  Giles  Edgerton  160 


By  Mar>-  Rankin  Cranston 


By  C.  A.  Byers 

By  Mary  Rankin  Cranston 


205 

586 

338 
664 


By  Mary  Rankin  Cranston  70 


By  Mary  Katherine  Woods       507 
By  Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow  139 


471 
By  Una  Nixson  Hopkins  346 

100 
211 


330 


CONTENTS— Continued 


tion :  House  of  Field  Stone 
Varied  Building  Materials  Har- 
moniously Blended  in  Two  Crafts- 
man Houses :  House  of  Stone,  Ce- 
ment and  Wood  :  Brick  House 
The  Adaptation  of  Craftsman  Ideas 
to  Two  Widely  Different  Types  of 
Country  Architecture 

Houses,  Some  Pasadena,  Showing  Har- 
mony between  Structure  and  Land- 
scape 

How  Medieval  Craftsmen  Created 
Beauty  by  Meeting  the  Constructive 
Problems  of  Gothic  Architecture 

How  "Mission"  Fumiture  Was  Named 

Indigo  Stencil  Paste 

Journey  for  Children  and  Grown-Up 
Folks,  A  Round :   A  Story 

June  in  Autumn :    A  Poem 

Keramics,  The  History  and  Uses  of 

King's  Highway,  The:   A  Poem 

Lamovoi  Letter.  The :   A  Story 

Landscapes,  California,  in  which  the 
Vigor  and  Wild  Beauty  of  the 
Golden  State  Are  Manifest 

Latin  Quarter.  See  Through  the  Latin 
Quarter  with  Pan,  p.  140 

Lawns  and  Gardens,  The  Proper  Con- 
sideration of 

Looms,  The  Aubusson  :  Where  American 
Tapestries  Are  Designed  and  Woven 
by  an  American  Artist,  Albert 
Herter 

Love's  Infinity :   A  Poem 

MacDowell,  Edward,  Musician.  The 
Work  and  Home  of 

Manual  Training  in  the  Development  of 
Our  Nation,  The  Need  of 

Mission  Furniture.  See  How  "Mission" 
Furniture  Was  Named,  p.  225 

My  Garden 

National  Academy  of  Design,  More  of 
the  American  Spirit  in  the  Spring 
Exhibition  of 

Needlework : 

As  Exemplified  in  Certain  Pictures 


Bv  Ernest  A.  Batchelder 


By  Emery  Pottle 


By  Kathrine  Sanger  Brinley 


456 

568 
678 
216 


44 
225 

235 

By  Jennie  M.  Day  414 

Bv  Charles  Hanson  To^vne       2^6 

584 
By  Edward  Wilbur  Mason  669 
Bv  Countess  N.  Tolstoi  168 


By  Hanna  Astrup  Larsen  630 


By  C.  A.  Byers 

107 

By  Elsa  Barker 

226 
315 

By  Mary  Mears 

416 

By  Joseph  F.  Daniels 

650 

291 


176 


CONTENTS— Continued 


of  the  Italian  Renaissance 
An  Interesting  Design  Evolved  from 
an  Embroidery  Detail  in  Da  Vinci's 
Painting  of  "The  Last  Supper" 
From  the  Sixteenth  Century 
Copied    from    a    Fifteenth- Century 
ItaHan  Painting 

Notes 

Opened  Bud,  The:    A  Poem 

Outdoor  Friends :   A  Poem 

Pageants.  See  Vahie  of  Outdoor  Plays 
to  America,  p.  491 

Painters  of  Outdoors,  American :  Their 
Rank  and  Their  Success 

Painting,  Mural,  in  Relation  to  Archi- 
tecture :  The  Importance  of  Estab- 
lishing an  Intimacy  between  the 
Two  Arts 

"People  Weep,  The" 

Permanence  an  Essential  Consideration 
in  Home  Building:  A  Study  of 
American  Architecture  which 
Achieves  Beauty  and  Durability 
through  Terra  Cotta  Construction 

Philosopher  of  the  Wabash,  The  Quiet 

Photography  among  the  Arts,  The  Place 
of :  Its  Progress  as  Revealed  in  the 
Recent  International  Exhibition 

Plea  for  True  Democracy  in  the  Domestic 
Architecture  of  America,  A 

Potter,  Louis:  A  Sculptor  Who  Draws 
His  Symbolism  from  Intimate  Un- 
derstanding of  Primitive  Human 
Nature 

Prayer,  A:    A  Poem 

Prayer,  The :  A  Poem 

Prisoner's  Friends,  The:   A  Story 

Rainbow  Song,  A :  A  Poem 

Realization  of  a  Home  Ideal,  The 

Remodeling  an  Old  Stone  House.  See 
Architecture,  History  in,  p.  316 

School  Systems,  American,  The  Evils 
of:  Archaic  Methods  of  Education 
Condemned  and  Practical  Remedies 
Suggested 

School,  The  Public,  and  the  Home :  The 


236 


350 
472 


702 

121,  483,  709 

By  Aileen  Cleveland  Higgins    663 

By  Aileen  Cleveland  Higgins    182 


By  Giles  Edgerton 


By  William  L.  Price 


By  George  Bicknell 

By  Giles  Edgerton 
Bv  William  L.  Price 


275 


3 

525 


444 
656 


32 
251 


By  M.  Irwin  MacDonald  257 

By  J.  C.  H.  Beaumont  312 

By  Sara  Teasdale  611 

By  Ivan  Narodny  266 

By  Aileen  Cleveland  Higgins    299 

687 


Bv  Parker  H.  Sercombe 


603 


CONTENTS— Continued 


Part  Each  Should  Bear  in  the  Edu- 
cation of  Our  Children 
Sculptor  Who  Is  also  a  Craftsman.  A 
Smythe,  Captain  Roland.     See  Philoso- 
pher of  the  Wabash.  The  Quiet,  p. 
656 
Sorolla  y  Rastida,  Joaquin :    A  Modern 
Spanish  Master 

Specialization.  The  Disadvantages  of: 
A  Method  Needed  which  Will  Adapt 
the  Whole  Race  Knowledge  to  the 
Common  Life 

Spinner  Who  Was  Lost.  The :    A  Story 

Stenciling.  See  Dyeing  p.  114.  See 
Indigo  Stencil  Paste,  p.  235 

Such  Farms  as  Dreams  Are  Made  of 

Tapestries,  American.  See  Looms.  The 
Aubusson,  p.  226 

Taxidermy,  Plastic:  A  New  Method  of 
Mounting  Animals  which  Insures  a 
Close  Presentation  of  Life,  and 
which  Is  at  Once  an  Art  and  a  Craft 

Terra  Cotta  Construction.  See  Perma- 
nence an  Essential  Consideration  in 
Home  Building,  p.  /\^/\ 

Through  the  Latin  Quarter  with  Pan, 
the  Goatherd  of  the  Pyrenees 

Timber  Construction.  See  Bungalow,  A 
California,  p.  222 

Tool-Wrought  Ornament  of  the  Mediae- 
val Blacksmith 

Totem-Poles,  The  People  of  the :  Their 
Art  and  Legends 

Trees.    See  America,  the  Prodigal,  p.  371 

Use  of  Water  in  a  Little  Garden,  The" 

Value  of  Outdoor  Plays  to  America: 
Through  the  Pageant  Shall  We 
Develop  a  Drama  of  Democracy? 

Value  of  Permanent  Architecture  as  a 
Truthful  Expression  of  National 
Character,  The 

Verdure  for  the  City  Streets:  How  the 
Municipal  Art  Society  Is  Working 
to  Beautify  New  York  with  Plants 
and  Flowers 

Water  Color  Exhibit  in  New  York.  The 


By  The  Editor  284 

By  Katharine  Elise  Chapman     437 


By  Katharine  M.  Roof  13 


By  Sidney  Morse  24 

By  Carolyn  Sherwin  Bailey       391 

By  Alice  Dinsmoor  521 


580 


By  Grace  Hazard  Conkling       140 


By  Ernest  A.  Batchelder 
By  Natalie  Curtis 

By  Mary  Fanton  Roberts 
By  The  Editor 


148 
612 

"3 

491 

80 
SSo 


CONTENTS — Continued 


Recent:  American  Artists  Whose 
Vital  Work  Shows  the  Inspiration  of 
Native  Subjects 

Who  for  Himself?   A  Poem 

Without:   A  Poem 

Wood  Carving.  Construction  and  De>ign 
in 

Wood  Carving,  Impressionistic  Effects 
in :  A  New  Departure  in  this  Old 
Craft 

Wood  Carving  of  Switzerland,  Where 
the  Life  of  the  People  Is  Reproduced 
in  the  Art  of  the  Nation,  The 

Wood  Famine.  See  America,  the  Prodi- 
gal p.  371 

Wood,  The  Value  of  a  Right  Apprecia- 
tion of 

Woods,  Our  Native,  and  the  Craftsman 
Method  of  Finishing  Them 

Work  (From  "The  Crown  of  Wild 
Olives."    By  John  Ruskin) 

^^"rought-Iron.  '  See  Tool-Wrought 
Ornament,  p.  148 

Zuloaga  and  the  National  Note  in 
Spanish  Art 


510 
By  Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow  283 
By  Wilfiam  Northrop  Morse      43 

Bv  Karl  von  Rydingsvard  360 


Bv  Robert  C.  Auld 


Bv  Christian  Brinton 


477 
188 

24. 2 

428 
706 

131 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


America,  the  Prodigal— Suggestions  by 
Charles  R.  Lamb:  Practical  plan  for 
planting  trees  along  railroad  tracks,  which 
will  benefit  both  public  and  corporation, 
375 ;  A  picturesque  highway  through  a 
country  section,  with  the  road  flanked  on 
either  side  by  a  double  row  of  trees,  376 ; 
A  double  row  of  trees  planted  along  the 
towpath  of  a  canal  which  will  act  not 
merely  as  a  windbreak  and  shade,  but  as 
a  forest  reservation,  377 ;  System  of  tree 
planting  along  the  river  front,  a  double 
row  of  trees  to  be  cultivated  for  profit  as 
well  as  picturesque  effect,  378. 

Architecture,  History  in :  Remodeling  an 
Old  Stone  House  and  the  Historical 
Quality  Achieved  —  Original  cottage  of 
gray  field  stone  picturesquely  placed  on 
hillside:  View  of  cottage  after  first  en- 
largement, with  wing  on  the  downhill 
side  and  hanging  porch,  317 ;  Suggestions 
for  further  enlargement  of  stone  cottage, 
318;  Plan  showing  alterations  and  addi- 
tions to  a  country  house  at  Maunuck,  R. 
I.,  322. 

Art,  American,  A  Greater  Sincerity  Nec- 
essary for  the  True  Development  of — 
"The  Prophets:"  Detail  from  "The  Di- 
vine Law :"  A  frieze  for  the  United  States 
Circuit  Court,  Chicago:  By  C.  \V.  Van 
Ingen,  51 ;  Municipal  office  building  de- 
signed by  McKim,  Mead  and  White,  52 : 
Municipal  office  building,  by  Howells  and 
Stokes.  53 ;  Central  panel  of  pediment  for 
the  Wisconsin  State  Capitol  designed  by 
Karl  Bitter,  Geo.  B.  Post  and  Sons,  Arch- 
itects, 54. 

Art.  The  Grotesque  in — Two  decorative 
door  knockers:  The  andirons  represent 
the  spirit  of  flame:  Louis  Potter,  crafts- 
man, 357 ;  A  group  of  bronze  door  knock- 
ers, showing  an  interesting  appreciation 
of  the  possibilities  of  the  grotesque  in 
industrial  art :  Louis  Potter,  craftsman, 
3S8. 

Atterbury,  Grosvenor,  Who  Bases  All  His 
Work  upon  the  Principle  that  Originality 


in  Architecture  Springs  only  from  the 
Direct  Meeting  of  Material  Conditions, 
The  Theory  of — A  chapel  at  Seal  Harbor, 
Maine;  The  Church  of  All  Angels  at 
Shinnecock  Hills.  301  :  A  countrv  home 
of  half-timber  construction,  especially 
suited  to  its  surroundings ;  A  type  of 
English  house  built  of  brick  and  wood, 
302 ;  A  log  cabin  built  on  a  small  island 
in  Long  Island  Sound,  the  construction 
of  native  stone  and  spruce  dabs;  A  view 
of  the  living  room  in  the  log  cabin  show- 
ing wood  construction  of  roof  and  walls, 
305 ;  Two  views  of  a  cottage  at  Water 
Mill.  Long  Island,  306;  Two  cottages  at 
Shinnecock  Hills,  307;  Details  of  cement 
houses  at  Islip,  L.   I.,  308. 

Beacon  Hill,  The  Regeneration  of :  How 
Boston  Goes  about  Civic  Improvement — 
Craftsmen  studios  on  Lime  Street,  Boston 
— formerly  Slime  Alley :  reconstructed  by 
Frank  A.  Bourne,  architect,  93;  Buildings 
on  River  Street,  Boston,  which  have  been 
rendered  beautiful  and  comfortable  by 
Mr.  Bourne's  reconstruction ;  Two  door- 
ways on  Beacon  Hill,  which  show  the 
artistic  quality  of  Mr.  Bourne's  work,  94. 

Berlin,  The  Architectural  Reconstruction  of 
— Four  illustrations  showing  Berlin  apart- 
ment houses  and  emphasizing  the  recent 
improvement  in  this  class  of  buildings, 
671-674. 

Book  Reviews :  "The  Studio"  Year  Book — 
Entrance  hall  of  an  English  country 
home :  M.  H.  Bai'lie  Scott,  architect,  469. 

Brick  Work.  A  Renaissance  in — Oriental 
method  of  inserting  glazed  tiles  into 
brickwork  as  shown  in  the  interior  Kas- 
chaner  Gate,  Kum,  Persia ;  An  example 
of  modern  tapestry  brick,  showing  inter- 
esting texture  and  use  of  wide  joint,  527; 
An  example  of  Mediaeval  brickwork  show- 
ing decorative  possibilities,  in  the  door- 
way of  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  and  St 
Paul,  Bologna.  Italy,  528;  Interesting  use 
of  brick  shown  in  the  detail  of  an  old 
house  at  Nunupton,  Shropshire,  England, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


529;  A  modern  brick  house  at  Kenilworth, 
England:   H,  M.  Fletcher,  architect,  530.' 
Bungalow,  a  California.  Interesting  Timber 
Construction      in — Pasadena      bungalow, 
floor  plan,  222 ;  A  clapboard  bungalow  of 
unusually  interesting  timber  construction, 
the  home  of  Mr.   Furrows  of  Pasadena; 
Porch  of  the  bungalow,  showing  box  pil- 
lars and  cobblestone  parapet.  223 :  Show- 
ing  interesting   effect     of     dining     room 
raised  several  feet  above  the  living  room 
floor;    Simple   construction    of    the    fire- 
place at  one  end  of  the  living  room,  224. 
Carnegie  Institute  at  Pittsburgh,  Presented 
as    the   American    Salon — "Amusement:" 
E.   A.   Hornel,  painter,  385 ;   "In   Ritten- 
house     Square:"     Elizabeth     Sparhawk- 
Jones,   painter,    386;   "Girl    Crocheting;" 
Edmund   C.   Tarbell,  painter,  387;   "No- 
vember Hills:"  Bruce  Crane,  painter,  388. 
Carving  as  an  Expression  of  Individuality: 
Its  Purpose  in  Architecture— Indian  tool ; 
Cradle,  61 :  The  house  of  Diana  of  Poi- 
tiers in  Rouen:   an   example  of  Renais- 
sance carving  which  is  admirably  related 
to    architecture,     63:     An     example     of 
Medieval  carving;  An  old  chest  showing 
a    most    interesting    contrast    of    Gothic 
structure  and  Renaissance  ornament,  64; 
The  workshops   and  house  of   M.   Rene 
Lalique.    Paris ;    showing   the    pme    cone 
motif    of    the    carving    absolutely    incor- 
porated  in   the    architecture,   65 ;    Speci- 
men of  Japanese  carving,  66. 
Churches    Built    of    Concrete    Blocks— St. 
Luke's  church,  Chelsea,  Mass. :  Frank  A. 
Bourne,   architect.    97;    Interior     of     St. 
Luke's  church,   showing  interesting  con- 
struction of  concrete  and  wood,  98. 
Cities,  Our  American,  Growth  and  Beauty 
of — Two  panels  for  the   Syracuse   Court 
House:    William   de  L.   Dodge,  painter: 
"Hiawatha  before  the  Ascension ;"  "The 
Discovery  of  Salt  by  Father  Les  Moines," 
403 ;    A    design    for    the    new    Municipal 
Building,  New  York  City,  404 ;  Design  for 
the   Allegheny   Court   House  and   tower, 
Pittsburgh,    Penn..  405 ;   A   scene   at   the 
New  York  school  farm :  Crippled  children 
who  cannot  work  in  the  garden  are  fre- 
quent   visitors,   406;    Two  school    farms, 
407 ;     American     Panther :     Eli     Harvey, 
sculptor;  exhibited  in  bronze  at  the  Mu- 
nicipal Art  League ;  Desigri  for  the  pro- 
posed landing  for  the  ferries  at  the  Bat- 
tery, New  York,  408. 


Cottage  along  English  Lines  with  Certain 
Unusual  I  endencies— Cottage  first  floor 
plan,  464 ;  back  view  of  cottage,  465 ; 
front  view  of  cottage;  View  of  living 
hall,  466;  Second  floor  plan,  467. 

Craftsmanship,  Peruvian,  Showing  to  What 
Degree  of  Civilization  the  Inca  Race  Had 
Attained  at  the  Time  of  the  Spanish  Con- 
quest—Massive chulpa  or  burial  tower, 
constructed  by  the  Incas  in  the  15th  cen- 
tury: many  rich  objects  of  gold  were 
placed  in  these  towers,  689;  Richly  col- 
ored poncho  decorated  in  various  geomet- 
ric designs,  from  a  grave  on  the  west 
coast  of  Peru;  Royal  silk  poncho  with 
five  hundred  designs  woven  by  primitive 
hand  loom,  estimated  to  have  been  a 
year's  patient  work:  found  in  chest  and 
thought  to  have  been  a  sacrificial  offering, 
6go ;  Loom  with  partly  woven  ruf  and  a 
woman's  weaving  outfit:  basket  with 
llama's  wool  and  handsome  incised 
carved  spindles;  Woman's  loom  showing 
a  partly  finished  poncho,  also  a  work 
basket  and  weaving  implements :  found 
in  coast  burial,  Peru.  691 ;  gold  and  silver 
images  of  the  llama  used  for  offerings  on 
religious  and  ceremonial  occasions :  found 
in  Peruvian  graves :  Rich  personal  orna- 
ment of  hammered  gold,  worn  by  the 
Inca  women  of  ancient  Peru,  692. 

Dyeing:  Modern  Dyestuffs  Applied  to  Sten- 
ciling^apanese  pine  cone  stencil ;  Japa- 
nese vine  stencil.  115;  A  fishing  still  life: 
design  for  Japanese  stencil,  116;  Flying 
birds  in  a  Japanese  stencil.  117;  Weed 
design  in  Japanese  stencil;  Bamboo  design 
in  Japanese  stencil,  118.  Tied  and  Dyed 
Work :  An  Oriental  Process  with  Amer- 
ican Variations— A  piece  of  Oriental 
dyed  work  just  as  it  came  from  the  bath 
with  the  knots  still  untied ;  The  same 
piece  of  dyed  work  with  the  knots  untied 
and  the  cloth  shaken  out  so  that  the  de- 
sign shows,  697;  Dyed  work  in  which 
there  are  only  two  colors,  the  light  pat- 
tern on  the  dark  ground;  Banded  effect 
in  dyed  work,  produced  by  looping  the 
cloth ;  Four-color  design  for  tied  work, 
to  be  used  to  decorate  a  silk  scarf;  Dyed 
and  discharged  work:  blue  and  gray  pat- 
tern on  a  white  ground,  698. 

Field  Stone,  Split,  as  a  Valuable  Aid  in  the 
Building  of  Attractive  Bungalows  and 
Small  Houses — A  small  California  bunga- 
low  costing  $3,200,   showing  the   use   of 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


red  sandstone  for  porch  pillars,  porch 
foundation  and  chimney;  A  clapboard 
house  with  porch  foundation  and  chimney 
of  cream  sandstone  and  trimming  of 
cream  white;  cost  $3,000;  Bungalow  cost- 
ing $3.Soo  with  white  limestone  used  for 
foundation,  porch  and  pergola :  Japanese 
effect  in  woodwork,  577;  Bungalow  built 
for  $j,30o;  interesting  simple  wood  con- 
struction, with  foundation,  porch  and 
porch  parapet  of  white  limestone ;  $3,000 
house  of  wood  and  stone  showing  color 
.scheme  of  blue-black  wood\york  with 
white  in  stonework  and  trimming;  $2,800 
California  cottage  with  unusual  window 
.Trrangement  in  the  roof  and  with  pictur- 
esque porch  pillars  and  chimney  of  lime- 
stone. 578. 

Finnish  Artists  Who  Paint  Their  Own  Coun- 
try and  People  with  Insight  and  Force, 
The  Work  of — "Telling  a  Good  Story:" 
Julio  Rissanen,  painter,  647;  "Building 
the  New  Home:"  M.  Gallen,  painter: 
"Boys  Fishing:"  Eero  Jarnefelt,  painter, 
648. 

Funk,  Wilhelm.  a  Painter  of  Personality — 
Wilhelm  Funk,  American  portrait  painter, 
161  ;  Portraits  by  Wilhelm  Funk :  Richard 
Watson  Gilder,  frontispiece ;  Miss  Doro- 
thea Bigelow,  i6j  :  Ann  Seton,  163 ;  "La 
Petite  Angeline,"  164. 

Garden  Ornaments.  New  Use  of  Concrete 
for — Jardinieres  and  window  box,  587 : 
Door  knocker,  jardiniere,  fernery,  flower 
pot  of  concrete,  588. 

Garden  Showing  Careful  Thought  through- 
out, A  —  Eight  illustrations,  giving 
glimpses  of  the  garden  of  Mrs.  W.  J. 
Tevis,  of  Stockdale  Ranch,  California, 
339-344- 

Gardens,  Converting  Backyards  into — 
What  vines  can  do  for  a  simple  backyard; 
Showing  the  beauty  of  good  lawns  and 
vine-draped  walls  in  a  common  garden, 
71  ;  Some  factory  dwellings  where  no 
effort  has  been  made  to  beautify  street, 
paths  or  porches,  72 ;  View  of  a  German 
manufacturing  village  where  public  and 
private  efforts  have  made  the  surround- 
ings attractive,  73;  Showing  the  use  of 
morning-glories  to  make  attractive  a 
humble  backyard ;  Backyard  of  a  busy 
workman,  rendered  effective  by  labor  and 
the  right  use  of  a  very  little  money,  74. 

House,  of  which  the  Owner  Was  the  Arch- 
itect,   Contractor    and    Supervisor — Two 


views  of  the  home  of  Mr.  Henry  Talbot, 
East  St.  Louis,  111.,  470;  First  and  second 
floor  plans,  471. 

House,  Plaster,  with  Roof  Garden  and 
Patio — A  Pasadena  house  in  Mission 
stvle.  with  roof  garden  and  Spanish  patio, 
347 ;  View  of  the  pergola  roof  garden ; 
One  end  of  the  patio,  showing  glass  roof 
which  is  left  open  in  summer,  348;  Floor 
plan  of  plaster  house,  349. 

Houses,  Craftsman,  for  the  Home-Builders' 
Club — Stone  and  cement  house,  first  floor 
plan,  100 ;  A  Craftsman  bungalow  of  stone 
and  cement,  loi  ;  Corner  of  living  room 
in  stone  and  cement  house,  with  glimpse 
of  entrance  hall,  102;  A  Craftsman  de- 
sign for  a  suburban  house  of  concrete 
construction,  103 ;  Living  room  in  con- 
crete house.  104;  Stone  and  cement  house, 
second  floor  plan,  105;  Concrete  house, 
first  and  second  floor  plans,  106. 
Cement  and  shingle  house:  first  and  sec- 
ond floor  plans,  211;  Cement  house,  first 
floor  plan,  212;  Craftsman  house  of  ce- 
ment and  shingles  designed  for  the  ordin- 
ary city  lot:  Showinp  construction  of  the 
ground  floor,  living  room,  dining  room 
and  double  staircase,  213:  Craftsman  ce- 
ment house,  designed  for  a  fifty-foot- 
front  town  lot :  Living  room,  with  glimpse 
of  extension  dining  room :  an  interesting 
arrangement  of  fireplace  and  built-in 
bookcases.  214 :  Craftsman  cement  house, 
second  floor  plan,  215. 
Craftsman  house  of  brick  construction, 
designed  to  secure  the  most  comfort  and 
convenience  from  the  arrangement  of 
space.  331 :  View  of  the  living  room  in 
the  brick  house,  332;  Stone  house,  333; 
Corner  of  living  room  in  the  stone  house, 
3^4 :  First  floor  plan  for  brick  house ; 
Second  floor  plan  for  brick  house,  335 ; 
Stone  house,  first  floor  plan,  336;  Stone 
house,  second  floor  plan,  537. 
Craftsman  wood  house :  first  floor  plan, 
456 :  House  entirely  of  wood  on  stone 
foundation,  457 ;  Living  room  showing 
interior  built-in  fittings  and  interesting 
use  of  wood,  458;  Craftsman  house  in 
New  Jersey :  construction  of  field  stones 
with  heavy  lintels  of  white  oak  timber, 
45Q :  Corner  of  living  room  in  the  stone 
house,  460;  Wood  house,  second  floor 
plan,  461 ;  Stone  house :  first  floor  plan, 
462  ;  Second  floor  plan,  463. 
Craftsman  house  of  stone,  cement  and 
wood:    first    floor   plan,    568;    House    of 


I 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


stone,    cement    and    wood,    showing    en- 
trance and  pergola  porch,  569:  Corner  of 
house  showing  detail  of  pergola  and  bay 
window  end  of  dining  room,  570:  Brick 
house,   showing   most   interesting   combi- 
nation   of   entrance   and    sleeping   porch, 
571:    Living   room   of  brick   house,   572; 
Stone,   cement   and   wood    house,   second 
floor   plan,   573 :    Brick   house,    first    and 
second  floor  plans,  574. 
A   farmhouse  built   on   Craftsman   ideas : 
first  floor  plan.  678:  Showing  the  adapta- 
tion of  Craftsman  ideas  to  the  old-fash- 
ioned New  England  farmhouse.  679;  De- 
tail  from  Craftsman  farmhouse   suggest- 
ing  the   old-time    trellis   porch.   680;    A 
bungalow  of  split  field  stone  and  wood, 
with    cement    trimmings,   681 ;    View    of 
large   living  room,  one  end  of  which   is 
fitted  up  as  a  dining  room,  682 ;   Farm- 
house, second  floor  plan,  683;  Bungalow, 
floor  plan,  684. 
Houses.    Some    Pasadena,    Showing    Har- 
mony between   Structure  and  Landscape 
— Thirteen  illustrations  showing  Pasadena 
houses  and   bungalows,  217-220. 
How  Mediaeval  Craftsmen  Created  Beauty 
by  Meeting  the  Constructive  Problems  of 
Gothic    Architecture-:-Figures    one.    two, 
three  and  four,  showing  building  schemes, 
47.  49- 
Landscapes,  California,  in  which  the  Vigor 
and  Wild  Beauty  of  the  Golden  State  Are 
Manifest — "Lake   Majella:"  Eugen   Neu- 
haus.    painter.    631 ;    "Glacial    Meadow :" 
William   Keith,   painter :    "Live    Oaks    at 
Twilight:"  John  M.  Gamble,  painter,  632; 
"Wild     Mustard:"     John     M.     Gamble, 
painter,     633 ;     "The     Shadow     of     the 
Canon :"  Elmer  Wachtel,  painter,  634. 
Lawns  and  Gardens,  The  Proper  Consider- 
ation of — A  rustic  pergola,  109;  Two  gar- 
dens   for    simple    homes,    no;    Showing 
what  can  be  accomplished  in  the  way  of 
beauty   by  the  use  of   a   tiny   stream   of 
water,  iii;  A  real  Japanese  garden,  112. 
Looms,   The  Aubusson :   Where   American 
Tapestries  Are  Designed  and  Woven  by 
an    American    Artist.    Albert    Herter — A 
low  warp  loom  in  the   workroom   where 
the    Herter    tapestries    are    woven.    227; 
Two  curtains  of  interesting  though  sim- 
ple  designs   from  the   Aubusson   looms : 
designs  and  color  schemes  are  by  Albert 
Herter,  228. 
MacDowell,  Edward,  The  Home  and  Work 


of — The  last  portrait  of  Edward  Mac- 
Dowell ;  Helen  Farnsworth  Mears,  sculp- 
tor, frontispiece,  onp.  p.  371 ;  "Cold  Wood 
Road,"  back  of  MacDowell's  log  cabin  at 
Hillcrest,  Peterboro,  NewHampshire,4i7; 
Gateway  to  the  garden  at  Hillcrest,  418; 
Front  and  back  view  of  the  first  studio 
built  on  the  MacDowell  estate.  419;  The 
garden,  with  old-fashioned  flowers,  sun- 
dial and  quaint  lantern  of  stone,  420. 

My  Garden-— Five  illustrations  showin:-;  an 
old  Italian  garden,  293-296. 

National  Academy  of  Design,  More  of  the 
American  Spirit  in  the  Spring  Exhibition 
of  the — "Sunset  Glow:"  Robert  Reid, 
painter,  177;  "Horses:"  Daniel  Garber, 
painter :  winner  of  the  first  Hallgarten 
prize  at  the  Spring  Academy,  178:  "Melt- 
ing Snow:"  Daniel  Garber,  painter,  179; 
"The  Playmates:"  Lydia  F.  Emmet, paint- 
er :  winner  of  the  Thomas  B.  Clarke  prize 
at  the  Spring  Academy,  180. 

Needlework,  Ornamental :  As  Exemplified 
in  Certain  Pictures  of  the  Italian  Re- 
naissance —  Madonna  and  Child  of  the 
Venetian  school  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
237 ;  A  detail  of  the  embroidery  from  the 
Venetian  Madonna's  robe,  developed  with 
the  utmost  care  as  to  color  and  stitch: 
also  proper  frame  for  setting  embroidery, 
238 :  Working  drawing  for  Mediaeval 
Italian  embroidery.  240. 
An  Interesting  Design  Evolved  from  an 
Embroidery  Detail  in  Da  Vinci's  Painting 
o:  "The  Last  Supper"— "The  Last  Sup- 
per:" by  Leonardo  Da  Vinci.  351  ;  Show- 
ing frame  and  method  of  embroidering 
the  design  taken  from  Da  Vinci's  famous 
painting,  "The  Last  Supper,"  352 ;  Work- 
ing design  for  linen  embroidery  originat- 
ing in  the  Italian  Renaissance,  354. 
From  the  Sixteenth  Century — St.  Bona- 
ventura  and  St.  Louis :  By  Alessandro 
Bonvicino  (late  fifteenth  century),  473; 
Embroidery  reproduced  from  the  robe  of 
St.  Bonaventura  in  an  early  Italian  paint- 
ing. 474:  Working  design  for  old  Italian 
embroidery.  475. 

From  a  Fifteenth-Century  Italian  Paint- 
ing— "The  Virgin  in  Glory."  from  a  fif- 
teenth-century painting  by  Era  Lippo  Lip- 
pi,  703 ;  Detail  of  embroidery  design  taken 
from  Era  Lippo  Lippi's  painting  of  The 
Virgin,  704 ;  Working  design  of  fifteenth- 
century   needlework,    706. 

F.-.inters  of  Outdoors— "A  Factory  Village  :" 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


J.  Alden  Weir,  painter.  277;  "Twilight 
Autumn:"  D.  W.  Tryon,  painter,  278; 
"The  Rapids — Sister  Islands — Niaerara  :" 
William  Morris  Hunt,  painter,  279;  "The 
Qoud:"  William  Sartain.  painter.  280. 
Painting.  Mural,  in  Relation  to  Architecture 
— Decoration  by  John  Sargent  in  the  Bos- 
ton Museum.  7 ;  Decoration  by  E.  A. 
Abbey,  in  the  Boston  Museum  of  Fine 
Arts.  8 :  Decoration  by  Alexander  Harri- 
son in  the  Carnegie  Institute.  Pittsburgh. 
9:  The  Sistine  ceiling.  10. 

"People  Weep.  The" — Frontispiece,  opp.  p. 
491- 

Permanence  an  Essential  Consideration  in 
Home  Building — Home  of  Mr.  Charles 
O'Malley.  first  and  second  floor  plans.  444; 
Houses  showing  terra  cotta  construction. 
445 :  Home  of  Mr.  H.  J.  Keiser,  Orange, 
N.  J. :  terra  cotta  house  with  especial 
beauty  of  window  grouping  and  roof  line. 
446:  Home  of  Mr.  Edward  D.  Page, 
Orange.  N.  J.;  Home  of  Mr.  Kendall  Ban- 
ning. 447 :  House  of  Prof.  James  E. 
Lough,  University  Heights,  N.  Y. ;  House 
of  Mr.  J.  William  Clark,  of  Newark.  N. 
J..  448;  Phi  Delta  Theta  fraternity  house. 
Union  College:  first  floor  plan.  449;  Sec- 
ond floor  plan.  450;  First  and  second 
floor  plans  of  Mr.  H.  J.  Reiser's  house. 
451  ;  Home  of  Mr.  A.  B.  Steen,  floor  plan  ; 
First  floor  plan;  home  of  Mr.  Edward  D. 
Page.  452 ;  Second  floor  plan,  home  of 
Mr.  Page;  First  and  second  floor  plans, 
home  of  Mr.  Kendall  Banning.  453; 
Plouse  of  Mr.  J.  William  Clark,  first  and 
second  floor  plans,  454 ;  House  of  Prof. 
James  E.  Lough,  first  and  second  floor 
plans.  455. 

Philosopher  of  the  Wabash,  The  Quiet — 
Captain  Smythe,  the  friend  of  John 
Brown.  657 :  "Thou.gh  this  man  has  built 
a  house  in  the  woods,  the  world  has  cut 
a  pathway  to  his   door,"  658. 

Photography  Among  the  .Arts,  The  Place  of 
— John  Ruskin :  from  a  photograph  taken 
about  184,-;  by  David  Octavius  Hill.  Eng- 
land. .^,3;  "P'alaise:"  from  a  photograph 
by  Robert  Demachy,  34;  "Moonlight — 
Villi'  D'F.stc:"  from  a  photograph  by 
Hcinrich  Kuchn.  35;  "White  Grapes."  by 
Baron  A.  De  Meyer,  36;  "Cadiz.''  from 
a  photograph  by  Alvin  Langdon  Coburn. 
41  :  Latest  portrait  of  Rudyard  Kipling, 
from  a  photograph  by  Sydney  Carter.  42. 

Potter.  Louis:  .-K  Sculptor  Who  Draws  His 


Symbolism  from  Intimate  Understanding 
of  Primitive  Human  Nature — "The  Call 
of  the  Spirit."  frontispiece  opp.  p.  251 ; 
"The  Bedouin  Mother,"  259;  "The  Dance 
of  the  Wind  Gods,"  260;  "Earth  Bound," 
261:  "The  Molding  of  Man,"  262;  Louis 
Potter,  sculptor. 

Realization  of  a  Home  Ideal.  The — Wa- 
hiawa.  the  largest  pineapple  country  in 
the  world,  a  glimpse  of  "Malukukui;" 
A  view  of  the  sitting  room  of  "Maluku- 
kui," in  which  all  the  furniture  is  home- 
made, 685 ;  The  house  is  built  of  matched 
boards  stained  a  dark  moss  green :  this 
detail  shows  the  open-air  dinino'  room 
and  vine-clad  porch,  686. 

Sculptor  Who  Is  also  a  Craftsman,  A — 
Sculpture  of  Paul  Bartlett:  "The  Bo- 
hemian Bear  Tamer."  439  ;  Columbus  :  in 
the  Congressional  Library  at  Washington, 
D,  C.  440:  John  Winthrop.  Junior:  State 
House  facade.  Hartford.  Conn.,  441 ;  La- 
fayette: a  gift  to  France  by  the  school 
children  of  America:  Erected  in  the 
Grand  Court  of  the  Louvre,  442. 

Sorolla  y  Bastida.  Joaquin:  A  Modern 
Spam'sh  Master — "My  Daughters  Helen 
and  Maria,"  frontispiece,  opp.  p.  3;  Sefior 
Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida  of  Valencia  and 
.Madrid.  i,=5:  "I.eonese  Peasants."  16; 
"Sea  Idvl,"  17:  His  Majestv.  Alfonso 
Xlir,  King  of  Spain,  18;  "Old  Cas- 
tilian,"  19;  "Naked  Baby,"  20. 

Taxidermy.  Plastic  —  Four  illustrations 
showing  Mr.  James  L.  Clark  in  his  new 
method  of  mounting  animals,  581.  582. 

Terra  Cotta  Construction.  See  Permanence 
an  Essential  Consideration  in  Home 
Building,   p.   444. 

Through  the  Latin  Quarter  with  Pan.  the 
Goatherd  of  the  Pyrenees  —  Martin 
D'Arudy  with  the  "Miller's  Daughter," 
out  for  a  special  pilgrimage  on  the 
Montmartre  :  Pan  of  the  Pyrenees  reaches 
Paris  with  Filou  and  all  the  goats  the 
first  day  of  April.  141  ;  Some  of  the  "af- 
ternoon goats."  Bijou.  Hirondclle,  Juli- 
ette, being  led  away  to  special  customers; 
The  last  day  of  .\pril  Martin  D'.\rudy 
pipes  a  farewell  to  Paris  and  starts  for 
the  Pyrenees.  142. 

Tooby,  Charles — Illustrations  of  paintings 
and  sketches  by  Charles  Tnoby :  "In  the 
Stable."  201;  "Springtime:"  "After  the 
Rain."  202;  Barnyard  pencil  studies.  203; 
".\  Quiet  Day  in  .\utuinn,"  204. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Tool-Wrought  Ornament  of  the  Mediaeval 
Blacksmith — Richly  wrought  doorpulls, 
handles  and  escutcheon  of  the  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  centuries,  153 ;  Fifteenth- 
century  door  at  Worms,  entirely  over- 
laid with  richly  wrought  iron,  154;  A 
wicket  door  from  Augsburg,  sixteenth- 
century  iron  work,  155:  An  example  of 
tool-wrought  ornament  on  a  door 
knocker  of  the  Middle  Ages;  Gothic 
wrought  iron  hinge,  sixteenth  century; 
Oak  coffer,  decorated  with  French 
vvrought-iron  scrollwork,  latter  half  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  156;  Figures  one 
to  seven,  showing  sketches  of  door 
knockers,  locks,  escutcheons  and  tools 
in  wrought  iron.  149-159. 

Totem-Poles,  The  People  of  the — Bronze 
groups  by  Louis  Potter,  sculptor;  ''The 
Auk  Mother,"  frontispiece,  opp.  p.  603: 
A  study  of  the  Tlingit  Indian  hunter 
and  his  dogs.  613;  The  Shaman  (medi- 
cine-man) of  the  Tlingit  Indians,  614; 
"The  Spirit  of  the  Night,"  from  a 
legend  of  the  Tlingit  Indians,  615;  "The 
Slaves."  showing  the  lowest  caste  in 
the  Tlingit  life,  616. 

Trees.    See  America,  the  Prodigal,  p.  371. 

Value  of  Outdoor  Plays  to  America,  The 
• — Augustus  Duncan  as  "The  Friar"  in 
Percy  Mackaye's  play  "The  Canterbury 
Pilgrims":  Mr.  Coburn  as  "Chaucer" 
and  Mrs.  Coburn  as  "The  Prioress"  in 
their  own  presentation  of  "The  Canter- 
bury Pilgrims."  499:  Mrs.  Coburn  as 
"Rosalind"  and  !VIr.  Coburn  as  "Or- 
lando" in  an  outdoor  performance  of 
"As  You  Like  It";  "The  Wife  of  Bath 
and  Her  Lovers,"  in  a  scene  from 
Percy  Mackaye's  outdoor  drama  as 
presented  by  the  Coburn  players,  500; 
Seventh  Episode:  Mrs.  Dudley  Law- 
rence in  1848  costume  as  a  guest  at  the 
dance  at  Sunnyside;  Fifth  Episode: 
Mr.  Arthur  LawTence  as  The  Honor- 
able Frederick  Phillipse  in  costume  of 
1733;  First  Episode:  Mrs.  Lawrence  as 
Teuntje,  wife  of  Jonas  Bronck.  first 
settler  of  Westchester  County;  Sev- 
enth Episode :  Mrs.  F.  E.  Kavanagh  as 
!Mrs.  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  at  the  re- 
ception of  Washington  Irving.  501; 
First  Episode :  Maurice,  Prince  of  Or- 
ange, receiving  Adriaen  Block  at  the 
Hague:  First  Episode:  Jonas  Bronck 
and  his  family  and  friends  on  their  way 
to    Westchester    County    in    1639,    502: 


Fourth  Episode:  Huguenots  marching 
barefoot  to  church  on  communion  Sun- 
day, from  New  Rochelle  to  Canal 
Street,  New  York;  Fourth  Episode: 
Children  dancing  before  Lord  and 
Lady  Pell  in  New  Rochelle,  1785,  503; 
Fourth  Episode:  Dancing  on  the  green 
at  the  presentation  of  the  fatted  calf  to 
Lord  and  Ladv  Pell;  Sixth  Episode: 
Captain  .Alexander  Hamilton  com- 
manding the  pieces  of  artillery  during 
the  battle  of  White  Plains,  504. 

Value  of  Permanent  .Architecture  as  a 
Truthful  Expression  of  National  Char- 
acter— Nine  illustrations  showing  the 
treatment  of  country  houses  by  repre- 
sentative  American  architects,  81-88. 

W'rdure  for  the  City  Streets — The  first 
winter  window  decoration  that  ap- 
peared in  Philadelphia  four  years  ago, 
SSt:  Showing  the  decoration  of  a  public 
building  with  vines  which  follow  close- 
ly the  lines  of  tlie  arcliitecture:  An  at- 
tractive form  of  decoration  used  on 
:i  dressmaking  establishment  in  New 
York,  552;  Two  pictures  showing  deco- 
rative value  of  vines  on  a  city  building, 
.=;.i3:  Window  box  of  mosaic  work  in 
light  and  dark  green  on  a  background 
()f  white  with  a  border  of  dark  green; 
Window  box  of  thin  strips  of  birch 
stained  brown,  set  in  a  lattice  pattern 
over  a  background  of  birch  bark,  554. 

Water  Color  Exhibit  in  Ne\v  York.  The 
Recent — "The  River  Road" :  John  Kel- 
logg Woodruff,  painter.  513;  "Clason 
Point  Road":  David  Milne,  painter, 
514;  "The  Sisters":  .\dam  E.  Albright, 
painter;  "Mary  Bernice":  Tony  Nell, 
painter;  "Dutch  Children":  Alice 
SchiUe,  painter,  315:  "The  Daffodil 
Man":  Anne  Peck,  painter,  516;  "The 
Plaza":  Gordon  Grant,  painter,  517; 
"Nearing  Sunset":  Walter  L.  Palmer, 
painter:  "Meadow  with  Mist  Flowers": 
W.  H.  Holmes,  painter.  .^^iS. 

Wood  Carving,  Construction  and  Design 
in — Lid  of  writing  desk.  Icelandic 
style:  Chair  back  in  Viking  style; 
carved  by  Karl  von  Rydingsviird; 
Chest  with  Scandinavian  ornament: 
carved  by  Helen  June,  361:  Settle  witli 
Scandinavian  decoration:  Showing  de- 
sign on  back  of  same  settle:  Side  of 
magazine  stand,  362 ;  Working  Draw- 
ing for  carved  magazine  stand,  363. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Wood  Carving,  Impressionistic  Effects 
in — Table  carved  by  Mrs.  Emily  But- 
terworth;  Carved  chest,  470;  Seat;  Oak- 
Panel,  480. 

Wood  Carving  of  Switzerland,  The, 
Where  the  Life  of  the  People  Is  Re- 
produced in  the  Art  of  the  Nation — 
"A  National  Dance,"  189;  "The  Be- 
trothal,"    190;     "Returning    from     the 


Hunt,"  191:  "A  Promising  Candidate 
for  the  Carbineers,"  192:  by  Karl 
Binder,  Swiss  wood  carver. 
Zuloaga  and  the  National  Note  in  Span- 
ish Art — Four  paintings  by  Ignacio 
Zuloaga:  "Village  Bull  Fighters";  "The 
Sorceresses  of  San  Millan" ;  "Family  of 
a  Gypsy  Bull  Fighter";  "My  Cousin 
Candida,"  133-136. 


Index  to  Vol.  XVI  of  The  Craftsman 

TOPIC  INDEX 


AIs  ik  Kan— By  The  Editor:  Manual 
Training  in  the  Public  Schools:  Exhi- 
bition of  manual  training  work  in  the 
New  York  public  schools;  the  training 
still  inadequate:  a  boy  should  learn  to 
do  real  work,  beginning  with  small  and 
simple  things;  teachers  should  be  mas- 
ter craftsmen,  iig. 

Farm  Life  as  the  Basis  of  Practical 
Education :  Object  of  school  at  Crafts- 
man Farms;  first  steps  toward  estab- 
lishment of  the  school;  good  farming  a 
matter  of  mind  rather  than  muscle; 
advantages  which  will  come  to  students 
at  Craftsman  Farms.  243. 
What  It  Would  Mean  to  the  Nation  if 
City  Folk  and  Farmers  Would  Take 
the  Trouble  to  Plant  Trees:  Wanton 
waste  of  our  native  woods;  work  of 
the  Forestry  Department  at  Washing- 
ton and  the  Tree  Planting  Associa- 
tion; celebration  of  Arbor  Day;  the 
Japanese  use  of  wood,  364. 
Nature  as  the  Master  Builder  of  Char- 
acter: The  absolute  justice  of  Nature; 
Nature's  lesson  to  man  and  child;  what 
a  return  to  life  in  the  country  may 
mean,  481. 

The  Weakness  of  the  People  Makes 
the  Strength  of  the  Trusts:  Opinions 
of  Mr.  Samuel  Unterniyer  on  the  Anti- 
Trust  Law:  patience  and  perseverance 
wanting  in  the  American  public:  to 
correct  the  trust  evil,  the  people  should 
display  some  of  the  constancy  and  vigi- 
lance characteristic  of  the  great  corpo- 
rations; disastrous  effect  of  leaving 
things  alone,  591. 

Books  Not  Essential  to  Healthy  Men- 
tal Development:  Trend  of  Opinion  on 
education  in  our  schools;  industrial 
education  and  moral  training;  some 
features  worthy  of  notice  in  the  educa- 
tional year.  707. 

America,  the  Prodigal :  The  Possibility 
of  a  Famine  in  Wood  and  What  Can 
Be  Done  to  Avert  It— By  Charles  R. 
Lamb,  Secretary  of  the  Tree  Planting 
Association  of  America :  Sacrifice  of 
our  forest  trees;  work  of  the  Tree 
Planting  Association  and  Park  Depart- 
ments; value  of  our  trees;  how  they 
may  be  preserved  or  replaced,  371. 

And  These,  Too.  Are  Mothers  :  .\  Story 


—  By  Marie  Louise  Goetchius,  622. 

.■Krchitccture,  Domestic,  of  America.  See 
Plea  for  True  Democracy  in  the  Do- 
mestic Architecture  of  America,  p.  251. 

.Architecture,  Gothic.  See  How  Media;val 
Craftsmen  Created  Beauty  by  Meeting 
the  Constructive  Problems  of  Gothic 
Architecture,  p.  44. 

.Architecture,  History  in:  Remodeling  an 
Old  Stnne  House  and  the  Historical 
yuality  .Achieved— By  Charles  Matlack 
T'rice:  Thoughts  on  American  domestic 
architecture;  a  plea  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  early  types  of  homes  in  Amer- 
ica, 316. 

Art.  American,  .A  Greater  Sincerity  Nec- 
essary for  the  True  Development  of — 
By  The  Editor:  We  must  as  a  nation 
forget  to  imitate  well  and  learn  to 
create  honestly;  the  Twenty-fourth  An- 
nual Exhibition  of  the  Architectural 
League;  significant  originality  lacking; 
we  must  learn  to  believe  in  ourselves 
and  express  what  we  believe  in  order 
to  build  up  a  lasting  art  in  America,  SO. 

Art.  the  Grotesque  in,  A  Growing  Ap- 
preciation in  .America  of:  Grotesques 
;ind  fancies  in  bronze,  the  work  of 
Louis  Potter,  356. 

Arts  and  Crafts  Movement  in  America, 
The:  Work  or  Play?— By  Ernest  A. 
Batchelder  :  .\rts  and  Crafts  exhibition 
in  London  by  William  Morris  and  his 
associates;  significance  of  the  Arts  and 
Crafts  movement  in  America;  art  de- 
mands sinceritv  of  purpose,  craft  de- 
mands skilled  workmanship;  machinery 
versus  hands:  the  modern  craftsman 
and  some  of  his  pitfalls,  544. 

.Arts  and  Crafts  Schools,  London  Munic- 
ipal. Where  the  Unskilled  Laborer  Is 
Trained  to  Become  a  Craftsman  to 
Supplement  His  Work  in  the  Shops — 
By  Ernest  .A.  Batchelder:  Organiza- 
tion of  schools  in  England  to  supple- 
ment shop  work:  effort  to  restore  the 
skilled  crafts:  the  methods  pursued, 
(138. 

-Atterbury,  Grosvenor,  Who  Bases  All 
His  Work  upon  the  Principle  that 
Originality  in  Architecture  Springs 
only  from  the  Direct  Meeting  of  Ma- 


TOPIC   INDEX 


terial  Cdnditii.ns :  American  dwellings 
growing  more  and  more  expressive  of 
our  needs;  original  expression  in  archi- 
tecture first  shown  on  Pacific  Coast; 
vital  work  of  Grosvenor  Atterbury  in 
domestic  architecture;  houses  by  Mr. 
Atterbury  which  illustrate  his  theory 
of  conforming  to  material  conditions, 
300. 

Bartlett,  Paul  Wayland.  Sec  Sculptor 
Who  Is  also  a  Craftsman,  A,  p.  437- 

Beacon  Hill,  The  Regeneration  of:  How 
Boston  Goes  about  Civic  Improve- 
ment :  The  story  of  how  an  unsanitary 
neighborhood  was  restored  to  its  old 
desirability;  work  of  restoration  car- 
ried out  by  Frank  A.  Bourne  and 
Matthew   Hale,  92. 

Berlin,  the  Old  Prussian  "Military  Vil- 
lage." The  Architectural  Reconstruc- 
tion of:  A  Return  to  Simplicity  and 
Soberness — By  Andre  Tridon:  Apart- 
nieiit  house  life  in  Berlin  municipal  re- 
^trictioIls;  the  movement  toward  sim- 
plicity of  exteriors  and  interiors;  inno- 
vations of  the  past  decade:  the  kitchen- 
less  flat,  670. 

Book  Reviews:  "The  Arts  and  Crafts  of 
Older  Spain,"  by  Leonard  Williams; 
"The  American  as  He  Is."  by  Xicholas 
Murray  Butler:  "Home  Problems  from 
a  New  Standpriint."  by  Caroline  L. 
Hunt:  "True  Indian  Stories,"  by  Jacob 
Piatt  Dunn;  '"The  Standard  Galleries 
of  Holland."  by  Esther  Singleton:  "On 
the  Open  Road,"  by  Ralph  Waldo 
Trine:  "Little  Books  on  Art":  "Enam- 
els," by  Mrs.  Nelson  Dawson;  "Minia- 
tures, .Ancient  and  ^lodern,"  by  Cyril 
Davenport;  "Jewellery,"  by  Cyril  Dav- 
enport: "Book  Plates."  by  Edward  Al- 
mack,  F.S..-\.:  "Tlie  Primer  of  Social- 
iMii."  by  Thomas  Kirkup;  "Drawings 
of  Alfred  Stevens,"  with  introduction 
by  Hugh  Stannus;  "Delftware.  Dutch 
and  English,"  by  N.  Hudson  Moore.  124. 
"As  Others  Sec  Us,"  by  John  Graham 
Brooks;  "One  Immortality."  by  H. 
Fielding  H:ill;  'Chats  on  C)Id  Lace  and 
Needlework,"  by  Mrs.  Lowes;  "Chats 
on  Oriental  Cliina."  by  J.  F.  Blacker; 
"Chats  on  Old  Miniatures."  by  J.  J. 
Foster;  "The  .Mastery  of  Mind  in  the 
Making  of  a  .Man,"  by  Henry  Frank; 
"Some  Nf>t:il>le  .Mtars,"  by  Rev  John 
Wright,   D.D.,   LL.D.;  "Rugs,  Oriental 


and  Occidental,  -Antique  and  Modern, 
.■\  Hand  Book  for  Ready  Reference," 
by  Rosa  Belle  Holt;  "The  Age  of 
.\iental  Virility."  by  W.  A.  Newman 
Dorland;  "Through  the  Gates  of  the 
Netherlands,"  by  Mary  E.  Waller; 
"Familiar  Nursery  Jingles,"  illustrated 
by  Ethel  Franklin  Betts,  245. 
"India  :  Its  Life  and  Thought,"  by  John 
P.  Jones,  D.D.:  "Untrodden  English 
Ways,"  by  Henry  C.  Shelley;  "The 
House  Dignified:  Its  Design,  Its  Ar- 
rangement. Its  Decoration,"  by  Lillie 
Hamilton  French:  "Civics  and  Health," 
by  Dr.  William  H.  Allen;  "The  Dela- 
field  Aflfair,"  by  Florence  Finch  Kelly, 
366. 

"The  Studio  Year  Book  of  Decorative 
Art,"  487. 

"The  Joy  o'  Life,"  by  Theodosia  Gar- 
rison; "The  Lady  in  the  White  Veil," 
by  Rose  O'Neill;  "Box  Furniture,"  by 
Louise  Brigham:  "The  White  Sister." 
by  F.  Marion  Crawford;  "Hungary  and 
tile  Hungarians."  by  W.  B.  Forster 
Bovill;  "Home  Life  in  Italy,  Letters 
from  the  .Apennines,"  by  Lina  Duff 
Gordon;  "The  Glory  of  the  Con- 
fjuered,"  by  Susan  Glaspell:  "New 
Ideals  in  Healing."  by  Ray  Stannard 
Baker:  "Copper  Work."  by  Augustus 
F.  Rose;  "The  Princess  Dehra."  by 
John  Reed  Scott:  "The  Three  Broth- 
ers." by  Eden  Philpotts:  "De  Lihris," 
by  .Austin  Dobson:  "Roses  and  Rose 
Growing,"  by  Ro>e  Kingsley:  ".A 
Grammar  of  Lettering.  .A  Handbook 
on  .Alphabets,"  by  .Andrew  W.  Lyons; 
.American  Art  Annual,  Volume  VI;  "A 
Poor  Alan's  House,"  by  Stephen  Rey- 
nolds; "The  Plate  Collector's  Guide," 
b}'  Percy  Macquoid;  ".A  Happy  Half- 
Century."  by  Agnes  Repplier:  "A 
Handbook  of  Modern  French  Paint- 
in,y."  by  D.  Cady  Eaton:  "Essentials  of 
\\"ood-w-orking,"  bv  Ira  Samuel  Grif- 
fith: "The  Call  of  the  City,"  by  Charles 
Mulford  Robinson.  594. 
"Egoists."  by  James  Huneker;  "Per- 
sonal Recollections  of  Wagner,"  by 
-An.gelo  Neumann;  "Lincoln  Centenary 
Ode."  by  Percy  Mackaye:  "First 
Course  in  Biology,"  by  L.  H.  Bailey 
and  ^^'alter  M.  Coleman:  "The  Laws  of 
FrivMidship,"  by  Henry  C.  King;  "The 
Third  Circle,''  by  Frank  Norris:  "Art 
Education  in  the  Public  Schools  of  the 


TOPIC   INDEX 


United  States."  by  J.  P.  Haney;  "The 
Story  of  the  Great  Lakes,"  by  Edward 
Channing  and  Marion  F.  Lansing; 
"Nature  and  Ornament,"  by  Lewis  F. 
Day;  "Geneva,"  by  Lewis  and  Gribble; 
"Coins  and  How  to  Know  Them,"  by 
Gertrude  Burford  Rawlings;  "The 
Earth's  Bounty,"  by  Kate  V.  St.  Maur; 
"Walt  Whitman,"  by  Georse  R.  Car- 
penter; "Edward  MacDowell,"  by  Law- 
rence Gilman:  "My  Lady  of  the  Fog," 
by  Ralph  Henry  Barbour;  "Greek 
Architecture."  by  Allan  Marquand; 
"Tlie  Witchery  of  Sleep,"  by  Willard 
Moyer:  "Along  the  Rivieras  of  France 
:ind  Italy,"  by  Gordon  Home;  "Venetia 
and  Northern  Italy,"  by  Cecil  Head- 
lam;  "Asphalts,"  by  T.  Hugh  Boor- 
man;  "Peace  and  Happiness."  by  Lord 
Avebury:  "The  Little  Gods."  by  Row- 
land Thomas:  "The  Lure  of  the  City," 
by  David  J.  Btirrell;  "Abraham  Lin- 
coln :  The  Boy  and  the  Man,"  by  James 
Morgan;  "Studies  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century  in  Italy,"  by  Vernon  Lee,  711. 

Boy  on  the  Farm.  The:  And  Life  as  He 
Sees  It — By  Sidney  Morse:  The  life  of 
the  boy  on  the  farm;  his  unsatisfied 
longings:  how  he  makes  his  way  into 
the  larger  life  of  the  city;  the  problem 
of  dignifying  life  and  labor  on  the 
farm;  what  has  been  and  may  be  ac- 
complished for  the  promotion  of  a 
more  intelligent  rural  life,  195. 

Brick  Work,  A  Renaissance  in  :  So-called 
perfection  a  degradation  of  the  imagi- 
nation; ancient  brick  makers;  work  of 
artistic  brick  makers  of  today,  526. 

Bronze  Work.    See  Art.  Grotesque,  p.  356. 

Building  of  Berrymount,  The:  Before 
Factory  Days — By  Martha  McCulloch- 
Williams,  538. 

Bungalow,  a  California.  Interesting  Tim- 
ber Construction  in:  Bungalow  de- 
signed by  Mr.  C.  W.  Buchanan  for  Mr. 
Furrows,  of  Pasadena,  California;  de- 
tails of  building:  the  cost,  222. 

Busy  Man,  The  :  A  Story — By  Marjorie 
Sutherland.  313. 

Carnegie  Institute  at  Pittsburgh  Present- 
ed as  the  American  Salon — By  James 
B.  Townsend :  The  question  of  an 
American  Salon:  first  American  Salon 
held  at  Pittsburgh  in  1902;  Mr.  Car- 
negie's  eflforts  to  bring  foreign  works 


into  America  for  exhibition;  the  Salon 
of  1909;  prizes;  exhibitors,  383. 

Carving  as  an  Expression  of  Individual- 
ity: Its  Purpose  in  .Architecture — By 
Ernest  A.  Batchelder:  Carving,  as  e.xe- 
cuted  by  the  primitive  craftsmen;  work 
of  the  modern  amateur  and  his  limita- 
tions; lessons  of  the  past  in  carving; 
the  work  of  the  carver  should  be  vital, 
intimate,  personal,  60. 

Churches  Built  of  Concrete  Blocks;  A 
Form  of  Construction  that  Is  Eminent- 
ly Fitted  for  this  Purpose:  Churches  of 
St.  Luke's  at  Chelsea,  Mass..  and  St. 
John's  at  Franklin.  Mass.,  designed  by 
Frank  A.  Bourne:  these  buildings  in 
the  perpendicular  Gothic  style  are  es- 
pecially adapted  to  concrete  construc- 
tiim:  advantages  obtained  by  the  use  of 
this  material,  96. 

Cities,  Our  American.  Growth  and 
Beauty  of:  Practical  Suggestions  Of- 
fered by  the  Municipal  Art  League  for 
Advancement  in  .Art,  Sanitation  and 
General  Comfort  of  Metropolitan  Life: 
Municipal  Art  League;  its  aim  to  pro- 
mote the  development  of  New  York; 
the  Municipal  Exhibit  and  its  lessons; 
work  of  Committee  on  Congestion  of 
Population;  the  School  Farm  League; 
city  lighting:  municipal  art  and  its 
lessons,  399. 

Color :    A    Poem — By    Allan    Updegraflf, 

520. 

Conqueror,  The:  A  Poem — By  Elsa 
Barker,  12. 

Cottage  .\long  English  Lines  with  Cer- 
tain Unusual  Tendencies — By  E.  Dru- 
sille  Ford:  The  house  described,  464. 

Court,  The  Friendly,  Devised  to  Help 
Rather  than  Punish  the  Child  Delin- 
quent—By Mary  E.  Watts :  The  Chil- 
dren's Court;  the  wise  and  kindly  judge 
and  his  methods;  work  of  the  Chil- 
dren's Society,  323. 

Craftsmanship,  Oriental,  The  Spirit  of — 
By  J.  Zado  Noorian :  Jewelers  of  the 
Orient  and  how  they  worked;  their  tra- 
ditions and  methods;  the  modern  jew- 
eler, 240. 

Craftsmanship,     Peruvian,     Showing     to 

What  Degree  of  Civilization  the  Inca 

Race  Had  Attained  at  the  Time  of  the 

Spanish  Conquest:  Peruvian  collection 

at  the  Natural  History  Museum  in  New 


TOPIC   INDEX 


York;     weaving',     pottery     and     metal 
work,  688. 

Creation  Myth  of  the  Cochans  (Ynma 
Indians)  — By  Natahe   Curtis,  559- 

Dyeing — By  Professor  Charles  E.  Pel- 
lew:  Modern  DyestufTs  Applied  to 
Stenciling;  Number  X;  How  to  do 
"resist"  stenciling  and  color  stencihng; 
what  the  expert  Japanese  has  taught 
us;  how  to  make  the  colors  fast;  possi- 
bilities of  stenciling,  114-  ^ 
Batik,  or  the  Wax  Resist  Process: 
Number  XI:  Modern  Batik  work;  ap- 
paratus: composition  of  the  wax,  232. 
Tied  and  Dyed  Work:  An  Oriental 
Process  with  American  Variations:  In- 
dian method;  modern  method,  695. 

Excellent  Things— By  Marguerite  Ogden 
Bigelow,  644. 

Farming,  Dry,  in  Our  Arid  Regions.  The 
Tremendous  Economic  Gain  through — 
Bv  A  S.  Atkinson:  What  dry  farming 
is';  work  of  H.  W.  Campbell,  of  Lm- 
coln,  Nebraska;  achievements  of  the 
Department  of  Agriculture  and  of  vari- 
ous farming  societies  in  the  West,  183. 

Field  Stone,  Split,  as  a  Valuable  Aid  in 
the  Building  of  Attractive  Bungalows 
and  Small  Houses— By  Charles  Alma 
Byers:  Interesting  markings  and  varie- 
gated colors  seen  in  split  stone;  six 
houses  in  which  field  stone  has  been 
put  to  various  uses  with  artistic  effect, 
5/0. 

Finnish  Artists  Who  Paint  Their  Own 
Country  and  People  with  Insight  and 
Force,  The  Work  of:  Exhibit  of  the 
Work  of  Finnish  artists  at  the  French 
Autumn  Salon;  Finnish  pictures  show 
people  doing  things;  Edelfelt  and  his 
teachings;  Finnish  art  lacking  in  imagi- 
nation, but  sincere  and  true  to  life,  645. 

Four  Walls:  A  Poem— By  Aileen  Cleve- 
land  Higgins,  509. 

Funk,  Wilhelm:  A  Painter  of  Personality 
— By  Giles  Edgerton :  Mr.  Funk's 
studio  and  its  atmosphere;  his  portrait 
exhibit  at  the  Knoedler  Galleries;  his 
perfect  mastery  of  technique;  just  what 
one  finds  in  his  portraits  and  why  they 
are  so  truthful;  some  events  in  his 
early  life;  hiter  struggles;  success,  160. 

Garden  Ornaments,  New  Uses  of  Con- 
crete for:  Marble  unfitted  for  Ameri- 
can  gardens;   bronze   efTectively   used; 


the  advantages  of  concrete;  results  of 
experiments  in  this  medium  by  the 
School  of  Industrial  Art  at  Philadel- 
phia, 586. 

Garden  Showing  Careful  Thought 
throughout,  A— By  C.  A.  Byers:  "Las 
Puertas,"  estate  of  Mrs.  W.  J.  Tevis, 
near  Bakersville,  Cal.;  a  lesson  to  gar- 
den makers;  notable  features  of  this 
garden,  338. 

Garden  as  a  Civic  Asset  and  Some  Simple 
Ways  of  Making  It  Beautiful.  The— 
By  Mary  Rankin  Cranston:  Advice  as 
to  the  making  of  a  garden;  some  sug- 
gestive personal  experiences  in  garden- 
ing, 205. 

Garden.  Sec  Use  of  Water  in  a  Little 
Garden,  p,  113. 

Gardening  for  Pleasure  and  Profit — By 
Mary  Rankin  Cranston:  The  tests  of  a 
chosen  occupation:  requirements  of  the 
successful  gardener  and  farmer;  advice 
to  the  would-be  gardener,  664. 

Gardens,  Converting  Backyards  into : 
The  Happiness  and  Economy  Found  in 
Cultivating  Flowers  and  Vegetables — 
By  Mary  Rankin  Cranston:  Backyards 
and  beauty  may  be  synonymous  terrns; 
some  timely  suggestions  for  the  city 
home  aarden,  70. 

Gates  of  Fulfilment,  The:  A  Story— By 
Mary  Katherine  Woods,  507. 

Guest  Room  in  a  Simple  House,  For  the 
—By  Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow,  139. 

House  of  which  the  Owner  Was  the 
Architect,  Contractor  and  Supervisor: 
Home  of  Mr.  Henry  Talbot,  of  East 
St.   Louis,   111.,  471. 

House,  Plaster,  with  Roof  Garden  and 
Patio— By  Una  Nixson  Hopkins:  A 
Pasadena  house  showing  a  consistent 
effort  to  adapt  the  house  to  the  land; 
the  house  described,  346. 

Houses,  Craftsman,  for  the  Home- 
Builders'  Club:  A  Bungalow  of  Stone 
and  Cement  and  a  Suburban  House  of 
Concrete— If  stone  be  at  hand  it  may 
best  be  employed  in  the  bungalow,  but 
clapboards  and  shingles  may  also  be 
used  with  good  effect;  the  concrete 
house  may  occupy  a  smaller  lot;  pos- 
sible variations  in  its  construction,  100. 
Cement  and  shingle  house  and  a 
cement  house  designed  for  a  fifty-foot- 
front  town  lot;  the  houses  described  in 


TOPIC   INDEX 


detail.  211. 

House  of  brick  conftruction:  stone 
house;  house  01  red  brick,  with  two 
pergolas,  woodwork  of  cypress  and 
slate  roof;  house  of  rough  stone  with 
window  and  door  frames  of  cypress; 
casement  windows,  breakfast  porch  and 
built-in  furniture  among  special  fea- 
tures, 330. 

A  study  of  comfort  m  horne  life;  house 
of  wood  on  stone  foundation;  house  of 
field  stone;  interesting  features  of  these 
houses  shown;  exterior  and  interior  de- 
tails, 456. 

Varied  Building  Materials  Harmoni- 
ously Blended  in  Two  Craftsman 
Houses;  House  of  stone,  cement  and 
wood;  brick  house  in  which  dark  red 
brick  and  Spanish  tiles  are  seen;  the 
houses  described,  568. 
The  .-Vdaptation  of  Craftsman  Ideas  to 
Two  Widely  Different  Types  of  Coun- 
try Architecture  ;  A  farmhouse  suggest- 
ing the  old-fashioned  New  England 
type:  a  bungalow  of  split  field  stone 
and  wood:  details  and  description,  678. 

Houses,  Some  Pasadena,  Showing  Har- 
mony between  Structure  and  Land- 
scape :  A  Suggestion  of  Swiss  archi- 
tecture; combination  of  cobblestone 
and  burnt  brick;  structures  which 
blend  with  the  landscape,  216. 

How  Mediasval  Craftsmen  Created 
Beauty  by  Meeting  the  Constructive 
Problems  of  Gothic  Architecture — By 
Ernest  A.  Batchelder:  Attitude  of  the 
modern  designer  toward  the  problem 
of  construction:  the  Mediaval  crafts- 
man, his  training  and  development; 
evolution  of  Gothic  construction,  44. 

How  "Mission"  Furniture  Was  Named, 
225. 

Indigo  Stencil  Paste,  235. 

Journey  for  Children  and  Grown-Up 
Folks,  A  Round:  A  Story— By  Jennie 
M.  Day,  414. 

June  in  Autumn:  A  Poem — By  Charles 
Hanson  Towne,  256. 

Keramics,  The  History  and  Uses  of: 
Characteristics  of  Egyptian  and  Per- 
sian tiles;  majolica  and  terra  cotta; 
processes  employed  in  producing 
faience  and   glazed   tiles,  584. 

King's  Highway,  The :  A  Poem— By  Ed- 
ward Wilbur  Mason,  660. 


Lamovoi  Letter,  The :  A  Story  —  By 
Countess  N.  Tolstoi,  168. 

Landscapes,  California,  in  which  the 
Vigor  and  Wild  Beauty  of  the  Golden 
State  Are  Manifest — By  Hanna  Astrup 
Larsen :  The  Western  school  of  art; 
.Arthur  Mathews  and  his  followers; 
love  and  devotion  of  California  artists; 
work  of  William  Keith.  Elmer  Wach- 
tel,  John  M.  Gamble,  Eugen  Xeuhaus, 
630. 

Latin  Quarter,  The.  See  Through  the 
Latin  Quarter  with  Pan,  the  Goatherd 
of  the  Pyrenees,  p.  140. 

Lawns  and  Gardens.  The  Pr.oper  Con- 
sideration of — By  C.  A.  Byers:  A  suit- 
able setting  too  often  neglected  by  the 
home-builder;  advice  as  to  what  to  do 
with  the  lawn  or  garden;  some 
"don'ts,"  107. 

Looms,  The  Aubusson ;  Where  American 
Tapestries  Are  Designed  and  Woven 
by  an  .American  Artist,  Albert  Herter: 
Romances  interwoven  into  Mediaeval 
tapestries;  the  stories  they  tell;  tapes- 
tries woven  on  the  Herter  looms;  how 
the  Aubusson  looms  were  started; 
tapestries  original  in  design  and  plainly 
American;  how  the  craft  of  tapestry 
weaving  has  developed  under  Mr.  Her- 
ter's  direction,  226. 

Love's  Infinity:  A  Poem — By  Elsa 
Barker,  315. 

MacDowell,  Edward,  Musician,  The 
Work  and  Home  of — By  Mary  Mears: 
MacDowell's  work  complete;  a  mem- 
orable interview;  the  "Peterboro  idea"; 
beginning  of  the  MacDowell  Associa- 
tion, 416. 

Manual  Training  in  the  Development  of 
Our  Nation,  The  Need  of — By  Joseph 
F.  Daniels:  Manual  training  has  lacked 
seriousness  and  appreciation  of  Ameri- 
can genius;  advice  of  a  craftsman  to 
those  who  teach  the  young,  650. 

My  Garden — By  Emery  Pottle,  291. 

National  Academy  of  Design.  More  of 
the  American  Spirit  in  the  Spring  Ex- 
hibition of  the:  Eighty-fourth  exhibi- 
tion shows  greater  virility;  our  artists 
seeking  actualities  in  landscape  and 
portrait;  greater  sincerity  and  sim- 
plicity observable;  the  exhibitors,  176. 

Needlework — By  Kathrine  Sanger  Brin- 


TOPIC   INDEX 


ley:  Exeniplilied  in  Certain  Pictures  of 
the  Italian  Renaissance:  Details  of  a 
decorative  border  on  the  robe  of  a 
Venetian  Madonna;  materials  and 
stitches  employed;  information  for  the 
modern  needlewoman,  236. 
An  Interesting  Design  Evolved  from 
Da  Vinci's  Painting  of  "The  Last  Sup- 
per":  The  art  i>f  double  Italian  cross- 
stitch  explained,  350. 
From  the  Sixteenth  Century:  Symbol- 
ism of  ecclesiastical  embroidery;  de- 
signs shown  in  the  canvases  of  Ales- 
sandro  Bonvicino;  directions  for  carry- 
ing out  a  Mediaeval  design  in  applique, 
472. 

Antique:  Copied  from  a  Fifteenth-Cen- 
tury Italian  Painting:  Embroidery  on 
robes  of  Fra  Lippo  Lippi's  "The  Virgin 
in  Glory";  the  design  in  detail  and  di- 
rections for  working  it,  702. 
Notes:  "Retrospective  Exhibition"  of  the 
work  of  John  W.  Alexander,  arranged 
by  Frederick  S.  Lamb  and  J.  Nilsen 
Laurvik;  water  color  drawings  of  John 
Singer  Sargent  at  Knoedler  Galleries; 
thirty-eight  paintings  by  Arthur  B. 
Davies  at  the  Macbeth  Galleries;  paint- 
ings of  D.  W.  Tryon  and  Alexander 
Schilling  at  the  Montross  Galleries; 
Blendin  Campbell's  studio  in  Mac- 
Dougall  Alley:  paintings  of  Henry  W. 
Ranger  and  Paul  Dougherty  at  Mac- 
beth Galleries;  mural  decorations  of 
Edwin  H.  Blashfield:  the  Albright  Gal- 
lery of  Buffalo;  exhiliits  by  H.  Wun- 
derlich  8z  Co.;  the  Keppel  Galleries, 
Woman's  Art  Club  of  New  York  and 
Carnegie  Institute  of  Pittsburgh,  121. 
Seen  at  the  Macbeth  Galleries  :  Paint- 
ings by  Howard  Pyle  and  Charles  Mel- 
ville Dewev,  bronzes  by  Abastenia 
Eberle.  Janet  Scudder  and  Arthur  Put- 
nam ;  work  of  Albert  P.  Lucas,  Augustus 
Vincent  Tack.  Henry  W.  Ranger,  Paul 
Dougherty,  Artliur  B.  Davies.  Blendin 
Campbell,  Kenneth  Miller,  Robert 
Henri.  George  Luks  and  Louis  Loeb; 
at  the  Montross  Galleries :  John  La 
Farge,  William  L.  T^athrop.  George 
Clement?.  William  M.  Chase.  A.  Phim- 
ister  Proctor,  Childe  Hassam,  Willard 
Metcalf.  Howard  Gushing,  Dwight 
Tryon,  T.  W.  Dewing,  Alexander  Schil- 
ling and  Horatio  Walker;  at  Knoedler 
Galleries ;  Miniatures  by  Laura  Hills, 
paintings      by      Frederic      Remington, 


sculpture  by  Henry  Clews,  Jr.,  water 
colors  by  Col,  Anthony  Dyer;  animal 
pictures  by  Percival  Rousseau  ;  portraits 
by  Wilhelm  Funk;  water  colors  by 
John  S.  Sargent  and  Edward  Boit;  por- 
traits by  T.  Mortimer  Lichtenauer  and 
Edwin  B.  Child;  exhibit  of  the 
Woman's  .-Krt  Club;  work  of  Eugene 
Higgins  at  the  Keppel  Galleries;  John 
W.  Alexander  at  the  National  Arts 
Club;  exhibit  of  the  Photo-Secession; 
exhibition  at  the  school  of  Robert 
Henri,  483. 

Home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hermon  A. 
Mac  Neil  on  College  Point,  Long 
Island:  the  Keramic  Society;  depart- 
ment of  weaving  and  dyeing  in  Worces- 
ter Arts  and  Crafts  Shop  under  direc- 
tion of  Miss  Sara  Gannet  Houghton, 
7og, 

Opened  Bud.  The:  A  Poem — By  Aileen 
Cleveland  Higgins.  663. 

Outdoor  Friends :  A  Poem — By  Aileen 
Cleveland  Higgins,   182. 

Painters  of  Outdoors,  American :  Their 
Rank  and  Their  Success — By  Giles 
Edgerton :  The  profound  philosophy  of  a 
simple  people  shows  in  their  religion,  art 
and  poetry;  America  has  been  imitative 
and  fearful  of  originality;  obstacles  which 
liave  held  against  our  young  American 
artists  :  their  quiet  struggle  in  depicting 
American  scenery  and  life  as  they  see 
it,  275. 

Painting,  Mural,  in  Relation  to  Architec- 
ture :  The  Importance  of  Establishing  an 
Intimacy  between  the  Two  Arts — By 
William  L.  Price :  Wall  painting  should 
relate  to  walls  and  should  be  an  exten- 
sion of  architecture :  Pompeiian  walls  an 
example  of  this ;  modern  mural  paintings 
not  a  part  of  the  building;  mural  painting 
of  Sargent,  Puvis  de  Chavannes  and 
Abbey,  with  a  word  of  criticism  as  to  its 
appropriateness,  3. 

"People  Weep,  The":  Bronze  group  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Luxembourg,  by  Jules 
Van  Biesbrock;  its  artistic  merits  and 
significance.  525. 

Permanence  an  Essential  Consideration  in 
Home  Building:  A  Study  of  American 
Architecture  which  Achieves  Beauty  and 
Durability  throu.gh  Terra  Cotta  Construc- 
tion :  Permanence  the  essential  quality  of 
a   home ;   the  value   of  terra   cotta  as   a 


TOPIC   INDEX 


building  material ;  details  of  its  use  ex- 
plained, 444. 
Philosopher  of  the  Wabash,  The  Quiet — 
By  George  Bicknell :  Brief  sketch  of  Cap- 
tain Roland  Smythe ;  his  creed  and  daily 
life.  656. 

Photography  among  the  Arts,  The  Place 
of:  Its  Progress  as  Revealed  in  the  Re- 
cent International  Exhibition — By  Giles 
Edgerton :  Exclusion  of  photography 
from  the  fine  arts ;  photography  in  Amer- 
ica recognized  as  an  art  closely  related  to 
American  civilization ;  the  vital  work 
which  lifted  photography  into  a  new 
realm  of  action  had  birth  in  America ; 
some  facts  about  the  Photo-Secession ; 
things  seen  at  the  International  Exhibit 
of  Photography ;  work  of  some  of  the 
more  important  American  exhibitors,  32. 

Plea  for  True  Democracy  in  the  Domestic 
Architecture  of  America :  America  has 
little  real  domestic  architecture :  our 
tendency  to  cling  to  styles  of  other  coun- 
tries and  periods ;  we  misuse  materials 
and  do  not  make  our  homes  an  expres- 
sion of  American  life ;  some  timely  ad- 
vice as  to  the  treatment  of  floors  and 
walls,  251. 

Potter,  Louis :  A  Sculptor  Who  Draws  His 
Symbolism  from  Intimate  Understanding 
of  Primitive  Human  Nature — By  M. 
Irwin  MacDonald:  Exhibition  of  Louis 
Potter's  Sculpture  at  The  Modern 
Athenian  Club;  a  brief  sketch  of  the 
life  of  Louis  Potter;  the  spirit  of  his 
work ;  some  of  the  more  impressive 
groups,  257. 

Prayer.  The :  A  Poem — By  Sara  Teas- 
mont,  312. 

Prayer,  The:  A  Poem— By  Sara  Teas- 
dale.  611. 

Prisoner's    Friends,    The :    A    Story — By 

Ivan  Narodny,  266. 
Realization  of  a  Home  Ideal,  The:  Home 

in    Hawaii    of    two    friends    of    "The 

Craftsman,  687. 

School  Systems.  American,  The  Evils  of: 
Archaic  Methods  of  Education  Con- 
demned and  Practical  Remedies  Sug- 
gested—By Parker  H.  Sercombe:  True 
education  places  character  culture  first, 
commercial  qualifications  second,  and 
book  culture  third;  how  confusion  of 
thought  is  produced;   evils   of  present 


school  methods;  suggestions  as  to  the 
remedy,  603. 

School,  The  Public,  and  the  Home:  The 
Part  Each  Should  Bear  in  the  Educa- 
tion of  Our  Children— By  The  Editor: 
Our  present  school  system  inadequate 
to  meet  needs  of  modern  life  and 
work;  where  and  why  social  service 
has  failed;  the  error  of  overspecializa- 
tion;  education  should  quicken  the 
mind  and  arouse  a  spirit  of  investiga- 
tion; how  work  in  school  may  be  sup- 
plemented in  the  home,  275. 

Sculptor  Who  Is  also  a  Craftsman,  A — 
By  Katharine  Elise  Chapman :  Work 
of  Paul  Wayland  Bartlett;  his  statue 
of  Lafayette;  other  important  exam- 
ples of  his  work;  his  early  life  and 
studies.  437. 

Sorolla  y  Bastida.  Joaquin:  A  Modern 
Spanish  Master — By  Katharine  Met- 
calf  Roof:  Exhibition  of  the  paintings 
of  Sorolla  at  the  Huntington  Building 
of  the  Hispanic  Societv  of  America; 
advice  to  the  visitor  at  picture  gal- 
leries; Sorolla's  success  in  dealing  with 
the  figure  in  outdoor  atmosphere;  his 
methods  and  technique :  the  charm  of 
his   portraits  and   indoor  life,   13. 

Specialization,  The  Disadvantages  of:  A 
Method  Needed  which  Will  Adapt  the 
Whole  Race  Knowledge  to  the  Com- 
mon Life — By  Sidney  Morse:  The 
specialist  and  his  place  in  life;  special- 
ism tends  to  disrupt  the  family  and  the 
community;  a  new  educational  propa- 
ganda needed,  which  shall  dignify 
common  life,  24. 

Spinner  Who  Was  Lost,  The:  A  Story — 
By  Carolyn  Sherwin  Bailey,  391. 

Such  Farms  as  Dreams  Are  Made  of— 
By  Alice  Dinsmoor:  Life  on  a  farm  in 
Thuringia  and  its  lesson;  the  American 
farmer;  what  out-of-door  life  has  done 
for  some  great  Americans,  521. 

Taxidermy.  Plastic :  A  New  Method  of 
Mounting  Animals  which  Insures  a 
Close  Presentation  of  Life  and  which 
Is  at  Once  an  Art  and  a  Craft:  Experi- 
ments in  taxidermy  from  1883  to  1890, 
by  Dr.  William  T.  Hornaday;  the  new 
school  of  Plastic  Taxidermy;  work  of 
Dr.  Herman  Bumpus  and  James  L. 
Clark  at  the  Natural  History  Museum 
in   New  York,  580. 


TOPIC   INDEX 


Terra  Cotta  as  a  Building  Material.  See 
Permanence  an  Essential  Consideration 
in  Home-Building,  p.  444. 

Through  the  Latin  Quarter  with  Pan, 
the  Goatherd  of  the  Pyrenees— By 
Grace  Hazard  Conkling.  140. 

Timber  Construction.  See  Bungalow,  A 
California,  p.  222. 

Tool-Wrought  Ornament  of  the  Mediae- 
val Blacksmith — By  Ernest  A.  Batch- 
elder:  Difficulties  confronted  by  Me- 
dia'val  iron  workers  in  bringing  the 
metal  into  workable  shape;  some  inter- 
esting tools  and  ornaments  of  wrought- 
iron  and  how  they  were  fashioned,  148. 

Totem-Poles,  The  People  of  the:  Their 
Art  and  Legends— By  Natalie  Curtis: 
The  Alaskan  Indian  tribes;  religious 
ceremonies;  carvings  and  paintings; 
mythology,  612. 

Use  of  Water  in  a  Little  Garden,  The: 
Our  indebtedness  to  the  Japanese  as  to 
the  arrangement  of  our  gardens;  gar- 
den of  Mr.  John  S.  Bradstreet  of  Min- 
neapolis,  113. 

Value  of  Outdoor  Plays  to  America, 
The:  Through  the  Pageant  Shall  We 
Develop  a  Drama  of  Democracy?— By 
Mary  Fanton  Roberts:  Pageants  and 
what  they  foreshadow;  "Joan  of  Arc" 
at  Harvard  University;  peasant  dances 
in  New  York  City  parks;  the  Bronx- 
ville  Pageant  and  events  commemo- 
rated; work  of  the  Coburn  Players  in 
"The   Canterbury   Pilgrims."  49i- 

Value  of  Permanent  Architecture  as  a 
Truthful  Expression  of  National  Char- 
acter, The— By  The  Editor:  National 
honesty  alone  can  produce  a  charac- 
teristic national  architecture;  America 
beginning  to  outgrow  tradition;  exam- 
ples of  dwellings  showing  dignity  of 
line  and  proportion  with  freedom  from 
tmnecessary  ornamentation,  which  are 
an  honest  expression  of  American  life, 
80. 

Verdure  for  the  City  Streets:  How  the 
Municipal   Art   League   Is  Working  to 


Beautify  New  York  with  Plants  and 
Flowers:  Where  summer  loveliness 
may  be  seen  in  New  York;  work  of 
Municipal  Art  League  and  Kinder- 
garten  Association,  550. 

Water  Color  Exhibit  in  New  York,  The 
Recent;  American  Artists  Whose 
Vital  Work  Shows  the  Inspiration  of 
Native  Subjects:  American  painting 
becoming  definitely  a  vital  art;  paint- 
ings seen  at  the  American  Water 
Color  Exhibit;  American  artists  find- 
ing inspiration  in  their  own  country; 
pictures  seen  through  the  eyes  of  the 
critic,  510. 

Who  for  Himself?  A  Poem— By  Mar- 
guerite Ogden  Bigelow,  283. 

Without:  A  Poem— By  William  Nor- 
throp Morse,  43. 

Wood  Carving,  Construction  and  Design 
in — By  Karl  von  Rydingsvard  :  Advice 
to  those  who  are  working  without  in- 
struction. 360. 

Wood  Carving,  Impressionistic  Effects 
in:  Wood  carving  of  Mrs.  Emily  But- 
terworth,  477. 

Wood  Carving  of  Switzerland,  Where 
the  Life  of  the  People  Is  Revealed  in 
the  Art  of  the  Nation— By  Robert  C. 
Auld:  The  life  of  the  Swiss  wood 
carver;  his  inspiration;  remarkable 
carvings  of  Karl  Binder;  how  domestic 
and  national  life  are  depicted  by  the 
Swiss  peasantry,  188. 

Wood,  The  Value  of  a  Right  .Apprecia- 
tion of,  242. 

Woods,  Our  Native,  and  the  Craftsman 
Method  of  Finishing  Them:  The  treat- 
ment of  various  woods  explained;  di- 
rections for  fuming  and  finishing,  428. 

Work:  (From  "The  Crown  of  Wild 
Olives,"  by  John  Ruskin),  706. 

Zuloaga  and  the  National  Note  in  Span- 
ish Art — By  Christian  Brinton  :  The 
art  of  Zuloaga  and  SoroUa  compared; 
works  of  these  men  enthusiastically  re- 
ceived in  .America;  a  brief  sketch  of 
the  career  of  Zuloaga  and  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  truthfulness  of  his  work,  131. 


INDEX   OF   PERSONS 


PAGE 

Abbey,  E.  A 5  et  seq.,  410 

Adams,  Maude 494 

Akin,  Louis   176,  410 

Albright.  Adam  Emory 512  et  seq. 

Alexander.  John  W 121,  410,485 

Allan,  John   23^ 

Allen,  William   H 368 

Almack,   Edward,   F.S.A 128 

Annan,  Craig  J 40 

Atkinson,  A.   S 183 

Atterbury,  Grosvenor 88,  300  et  seq. 

Auld.  Robert  C 188 

Avebury,  Lord  716 

Bailey,  Carolyn  Sherwin 391 

Bailey,  L.  H 712 

Baker,  Elizabeth  Gowdy 485 

Baker,  Ray  Stannard 597 

Banning,  Kendall  447 

Barbour,  Ralph   Henry 71S 

Barker,  Elsa   12,  315 

Bartlett,   Paul  Wayland 437  et  seq^ 

Batchelder,  Ernest  A..44,  61,  148,  544,  638 

Beardsley,  Aubrev  488 

Beatty,  John  W.'. 383 

Beaumont,  J.   C.  H 312 

Beaux,  Cecilia   384 

Benson,   Frank  W 384 

Berndt,  Kurt    677 

Belts,  Ethel  Franklin 248 

Bicknell,  George  656 

Bigelow,  Dorothea 162 

Bigelow,   E.   M 383 

Bigelow,  Marguerite  Ogden..i39,  283,  644 

Binder.  Karl   189  et  seq. 

Bischoff.  Max 677 

Bitter,   Karl    54 

Blacker.  J.   F 247 

Blake,  William   7ii 

Blashfield,  Edwin  H 124 

Boas,  Dr.  Franz  612  et  seq. 

Boit,   Edward  485 

Bonvicino,  .A.lessandro  473 

Boorman,  T.  Hugh 716 

Borglum,  Gutzon   6 

Boughton,  Alice   38 

Bourne,  Frank  A 92  et  seq.,  96  et  seq. 

Boutet-de-Monvel  264 

Bovill,  W.   B.   Forster 596 

Bradstreet,  John  S 113 

Brangwyn,  Frank  124 


PAGE 

Brigham,   Louise    595 

Brigman,  Annie   38 

Brinley,   Kathrine   Sanger, 

236,  350,  472,  702 

Brinton,    Christian    131 

Brooks,  John  Graham 246 

Brown,  John  661  et  seq. 

Buchanan,  C.  W 222 

Burrell,   David  J 716 

Butler,  Dr.  Nicholas  Murray 125 

Butterworth,  Mrs.  Emily 477  et  seq. 

Bvers,  C.  A 107,  338,  576 

Caldwell,  John  383 

Campbell,  Blendin    123.  484 

Campbell,  Colin    410 

Campbell,  H.  W 183 

Cameron,  Mrs.  Julia 40 

Carlsen,   Emil  389 

Carnegie.  Andrew 253,  383  et  seq. 

Carnegie,   Margaret   .=;8,? 

Carpenter,  George  R 714 

Carter,   Sydney    486 

Channing,  Edward  713 

Chapman,   Katharine   Elise 437 

Chase,   William   M   124,484 

Childs.   Edwin    B 48s 

Clark,  James   L ■;83 

Clark,  J.   William   454 

Clements,  George  484 

Clews,   Henry    485 

Coburn,  Alvin  Langdon...40  et  seq.,  486 

Coburn,  Charles  Douville 497  et  seq. 

Coleman,  Walter  M 712 

Columbus,   Christopher   440 

Coman,   Charlotte  B 181 

Conkling,  Grace  Hazard 140 

Coulter,   Ernest   K 32,3 

Couse,    E.   Irving 410 

Crane,   Bruce    388 

Cranston,   Mary   Rankin 70,  205,  664 

Crawford,   F.  Marion 505 

Curtis,   Natalie    559.  612 

Custer,  Elizabeth   497 

Daniels,  Joseph  F 650,  708 

D'.A.rudy.  Martin  140  et  seq. 

Dauchez,  Andre   384 

Davenport,   Cyril    128 

Davies,  Arthur  B 122.  484 

Da  Vinci,  Leonardo 35i 

Dawson,  Mrs.   Nelson 128 


PAGE 

Day,  Jennie    M 4^4 

Day,  Lewis  F 713 

de  Chavannes,  Puvis   5.  645 

de  Meyer,  Baron  A 36,  486 

De  Zayas,   Marius 480 

Deland,  Margaret   95 

Del  Mue,  Maurice 635 

Demachy,  Robert  34 

Dewey,   Charles   Melville 4^3 

Dewing,  Thomas   VV 389.  484 

Dinsmoor,   Alice   S21 

Dobson,  Austin  598 

Dodge,  William  de   L 403 

Dorland,  W.  A.  Newman 248 

Dougherty.    Paul    123,176,483 

Dufner,   Edward   5ll 

Duncan,  Augustus  497 

Dunn,  Jacob  Piatt 127 

Dyer,  Col.   Anthony 48S 

Eakins,  Thomas   389 

East,  Alfred   389 

Eaton,   D.    Cady 600 

Eberle.  Abastenia  483 

Edelfelt 646  et  seq. 

Edgerton.    Giles    32,  160.  275 

Edison,  Thomas  A 45° 

Emmet,   Lydia   F 180 

Emmons,  Dr.  G.  T 612 

Endell,  August   677 

Eyre.  Wilson   87 

Forbes,   Stanhope  390 

Ford,  E.  Drusille 464 

Fortuny.   Mariano    131 

Foster.  J.  J 247 

French,  Lillie  Hamilton .3^8 

Frew,  William   N 383 

Funk,  Wilhelm  160  et  seq. 

Furrows,   Mr.    222 

Gallen,   M 645  et  seq. 

Gamble,  John   M 632,  633  et  seq. 

Garber.   Daniel   178  et  seq 

Garrison.  Theodosia   594 

Genth,    Lillian    390 

Gerville-Rcache,   Madame    181 

Gessner.   Albert    677 

Gilder,  Richard  Watson.. 131 

Gilert,  Johan    412 

Gilman,  Lawrence   7I4 

Girard,   Stephen    382 

Glackens.  William  J 282 

Glaspell,  Susan    597 

Goetohius,    Marie    Louise 622 

Gordon.   Lina   Duff 59<'> 

Gorst,  Harold   E 700 

Grant,  Gordon 517  et  seq. 

Greene,  Anne  519 

Griffith.   Ira   Samuel 600 

Guthrie,  Geo,  W .^83 

IT.TgRin,   Ren-.\li j8i 

Hale,   Matthew    95 


PAGE 

Hall,  H.  Fielding  246 

Hall,   Richard   124 

Hammel,  William  C.  A 288 

Haney,  J.  P 713 

Hanus,  Prof.  Paul 708 

Harlfinger-Zakucka,   Frau   Fanny....  488 

Harrison,  Alexander  9 

Hartley,  Marsden  486 

Harvey.   Eli 412 

H.-irwiche-Lewis,   J 7I4 

Harwiche-Lewis,  Mav   7I4 

Hassam,   Childe    282,389,484 

H  a viland,  Paul  B 40 

Headlam.   Cecil   7^5 

H ello,  Ernest  7" 

Hendrick,   Justice    592 

Henri,    Robert    484,486 

Herter,  Albert 58.  226  et  seq. 

Hetzel,  George   124 

Higgins,  Aileen  Cleveland, 

182,  299,  509.  663 

Higgins,  Eugene   123,  485 

Hill.   David  Octavius 33 

Hills.  Laura  Coombs 485 

Hirschfeld.  Ludwig  487 

Holmes.  W.  H 518  et  seq. 

Holt,   Rosa   Belle 248 

Home,   Gordon    7^5 

Homer,  Winslow   389 

Hopkins,  Una   Nixson 346 

Hornaday,  Dr.  William  T 580 

Home,  Durbin  .383 

Hornel,  E.  A 385,  390 

Houghton,  Sara  Gannet 7IT 

Huneker,  James    71' 

Hunt,  Caroline  L 126 

Hunt,  William  Morris 279,  652 

Hunter,  F.  W 486 

Huntington,  Archer  M 13,  138 

Huysmans.  Joris-Karl    7'! 

Tarnefelt,   Eero 648  et  seq. 

Tenks,   Tudor   497 

Tones,   Rev.   John   P 366 

June,   Helen    361 

Kasebier.   Gertrude    38 

Kavanagh,  Mrs.  F.  E 501 

Keiser.  H.  J 446 

Keith,  William 632  et  seq. 

Kelly.   Florence   Finch 368 

Kendall,  William   Sergeant 389 

Kindlund,  Airs.  James  Condie 123 

King,  Henry  C 713 

Kingsley,  Rose   599 

Kipling,  Rudyard   486 

Kirkup,   Thomas    128 

Kuehn.    Heinrich    35 

La  Farge,  John 484 

Lafayette    442 

Lalique.   M.   Rene 64 

Lamb,  Charles  R 364,  371  et  seq.,  409 


PAGE 

Lamb,  Frederick  S 40.  I2i 

Lancaster,  Percy 488 

Langley,  Helen  488 

Lansing,  ^Marion  F 713 

Larsen,   Hanna   Astrup 630 

Lathrop,  William  L 389.  484 

La  Touche,  Gaston 384.  389 

Laurvik,  J.  Nilsen 121 

Lavery,  John  384 

Lawrence,   Arthur    501 

Lawrence,  Mrs.  Dudley 501 

le   Due,  Viollet 5 

L'Enfant  372 

Le   Sidaner,   Henri ,380 

Lee,  Vernon  716 

Lichtenauer,  T.  Mortimer 485 

Lincoln,  Abraham  712,  716 

Lippi.  Fra  Lippo 703 

Livermore,  Edith  7ii 

Loeb,  Louis   484 

Losada,  Manuel   130 

Lough,  James  E 448 

Lowes,  Mrs 247 

Lucas,  Albert  P 483 

Luks,  George  484 

Lyons,   Andrew  W 599 

MacChesney,   Clara  T 519 

MacDonald,  M.  Irwin 257 

MacDowell,  Edward.  .371,  416  et  seq.,  714 

^lacDowell,  Mrs.  Edward 424 

Mac  Neil,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hermon  A.  ..  yen 

MacRae,  Elmer 5iP 

Mackaye.  Percy 493  et  seq.,  712 

Macquoid,  Percy   599 

Marin.  John   4?^ 

Marquand,   Allan    715 

Martinez,  Xavier   635 

Mason,   Edward  Wilbur 669 

Mathews,  Arthur   635 

Maurer,  Alfred   486 

McConway.   William    383 

Mears.  Helen  Farnsworth opp.  p.  371 

Mears.   Mary   416 

Melchers,   Gari    390 

Merington.   Marguerite    497 

Meryon,    Charles    124 

Metcalf,  Willard  L 282.  484 

Mill,  John  Stuart 287 

Miller,   Kenneth    484 

Milne,  David 512  et  seq 

Moore,  N.  Hudson 12B 

Morgan,  James   716 

Morris,   Gouverneur   497 

Morris,  William  544 

Morse,   Sidney    24.  195 

Morse,  William  Northrop 43 

Moyer.  Willard  7i5 

Munsterberg,  Hugo  655 

Murphy,  J.  Francis 282 


PAGE 

Xacgele,  Charles  Frederick 124 

X.Trodiiy,   Ivan  266 

Nell.  Tony  512  et  seq. 

-Xeuhaus,  Eugen   631  et  seq. 

Neumann,  Angelo    "Jt 

Nichols,  Rhoda  Holmes 519 

Noorian,  J.  Zado 240 

Norris,  Frank   713 

Oakley,  Violet  506 

O'Malley,   Charles  A 444 

O'Neill,    Rose    595 

Page.   Edward   D 447 

Palmer,  Walter  L 518 

Pater,   Walter    711 

Peck,  Anne 516  et  seq. 

Pellew,   Charles   E 114.  232,  605 

Perrv,  Roland  Hinton 486 

Philpotts,  Eden  SPS 

Piazzoni,   Gottardo    63s 

Poore,   Henry  M 124 

Potter,  Louis, 

251,  257  et  seq.,  356  et  seq.,  602 

Pottle,  Emery  291 

Price,  Charles  Matlack 316 

Price,  William  L. 3.  85,  251 

Proctor,  A.   Phimister 484 

Putnam,  Arthur   483 

Pyle,   Howard   483 

Raffaelli,  Francois   384 

Ranger,  Henry  W 123.  389.  483 

Rathenau,  George   677 

Rawlings,   Gertrude    Burford 714 

Rehn,  F.  K.  M 124 

Reid.   Robert    '77 

Remington,   Frederic    176.  410.  485 

Repplier.  Agnes    600 

Reynolds.  Stephen  599 

Rion,   Hanna    512 

Rissanen,  Julio 645  et  seq. 

Roberts,   Mary   Fanton 49i 

Robinson,   Charles   Mulford 600 

Roof,   Katharine   M 13 

Roosevelt,  Theodore   592.  708 

Rope,  E^  M 488 

Rope,  Margaret 488 

Rose,  Augustus  F .507 

Rousseau.   Percival    485 

Runette,  Mabel   124 

Ruskin,  John   33-  80,  706 

Ryder,  Albert  P 484 

Saint-Gaudens,  Augustus  389.  494 

Sargent,  John  S...5  et  seq.,  122,  165.  410 

Sartain,  William  280 

Sauter.   George    .390 

Schaeffer,  Amos   452 

Schandt,   Emil   677 

Schille,  Alice 512  et  seq. 

Schilling,  Alexander  123 

Schreyvogel,  Charles   4io 


PAGE 

Schwab,  Charles  M 252 

Scott,  Tohn  Reed 598 

Scott,  M.  H.  Baillie 469.  488 

Scudder,  Janet  58,  483,  486 

Sedg^vick,  Prof.  William  T 368 

Seeley,   George   H 4° 

Semper,  Gottfried   675 

Sercombe,  Parker  H 603  et  seq.,  707 

Seton,  Ann    163 

Shannon,  J.  J 3S4 

Shelley,  Henry  C 3'^7 

Shima,   E.   T 114 

Singleton,  Esther 127 

Smith,   Henry    373 

Smith,   Pamela   Colman 122.  486 

Smythe,  Captain   Roland 656 

Sorolla  y  Bastida,  Joaquin, 

13  et  seq.,  122.  131 

Sparhawk- Jones,  Elizabeth   386 

Steen,  A.   B 454 

Steichen,  Eduard 38  et  seq.,  486 

Stevens,  Alfred   128 

Stieglitz,   Alfred    37 

Stillman.  James  A 88 

Stuart,  Ruth   McEnery 407 

St.   Maur,   Kate  V 714 

Sullivan,   Louis   80 

Sutherland,   Marjorie    313 

Swanton,   Dr.  John   R 612 

Tack,  Augustus  Vincent 483 

Tait,  A,  F 48,S 

Talbot.   Henry   470  et  seq. 

Tarbell,    Edmund   C 387,  389  et  seq. 

Teasdale,   Sara    611 

Thomas,  Rowland   716 

Tolstoi,  Countess   N 16^ 

Tooby,  Charles   20T 


PAGE 

Tovvne,    Charles    Hanson 256 

Townsend,   James   B 383 

Tridon,  Andre   670 

Trine,  Ralph  Waldo 127 

Tryon,   D.   W 123,  278,  384,  484 

Untermyer,  Samuel   59i 

Updegraff,   Allan    520 

Van   Biesbrock,  Jules 491,525 

Van  Tngen,  W.  B 51 

Verbeck,   Frank    512 

von  Rydingsvard,  Karl.,.  124,  360  et  seq. 

Wachtel,    Elmer    634  et  seq. 

Wagner,  Richard   712 

Wall,  A.   Bryan 383 

Walker,  Horatio 410.  484 

Waller,  Mary  E 248 

Wannsee,   Hermanns    677 

Ward,   Hetta    124 

Warner,   Charles   Dudley 275 

Warner,  John  De  Witt .399 

Waterfield,  Aubrey   596 

Waterman,   I.   S 486 

Watts.  Mary  E 323 

Weir,  J,  Alden 277,  389 

White,   Clarence    38  et  seq. 

Wiles,   Irving   181  et  seq. 

Williams,  Leonard  125 

Williams,  Martha  McCulloch 538 

Wilson,  Woodrow  .=;93 

Winegar,  Annie  486 

Winthrop,  John,  Junior 441 

Woodruff,  John  Kellogg .511  et  seq 

Woods,  Mary  Katherine ,=;o7 

Woodwell,  Joseph   R ,383 

Wright,   Rev.  John 247 

Zuloaga.  Ignacio  13,  131  e'  seq. 


?    7 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 

GUSTAV  STICKLEY,  EDITOR  AND  PUBLISHER 
VOLUME  XVI  APRIL,  1909  NUMBER  1 


xMURAL  PAINTING  IN  RELATION  TO  ARCHI- 
TECTURE :  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  ESTABLISH- 
ING AN  INTIMACY  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  ARTS : 
BY  WILLIAM  L.  PRICE 

HILE  as  a  people  we  are  far  less  of  an  art  people  than 
Ave  have  been  in  the  past,  there  are  some  generally 
recognized  forms  of  art  that  are  gaining  ground  with 
^  us,  and  we  are  building  up  schools  of  certain  mani- 
ij  festations  of  the  art  sense.  Among  these,  nothing  is 
more  definitely  recognized  than  mural  painting.  Our 
legislators  and  public  men  are  beginning  to  see  the 
propriety  of  sometliing  more  than  mere  brick  and  mortar  in  the  hous- 
ing of  our  public  functions,  and  our  growing  wealthy  classes  stand 
prepared  to  put  up  money — the  only  thing  in  wliich  they  are  pre- 
eminent— for  the  glorification  of  their  getting,  while  the  painters  have 
not  been  slow  to  seize  upon  this  opportunity  for  the  display  of  their 
art.  So  that  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  discuss  mural  painting  in  its  re- 
lation to  its  parent,  architecture. 

So  long  as  we  are  quite  content  to  accept  without  thought  or 
relevancy  the  architectural  expression  of  other  countries  and  ages, 
we  may  "accept  without  question  their  methods  of  mural  decoration 
as  weir.  If  American  architecture  is  to  be  no  more  than  a  rearrange- 
ment of  estabhshed  forms  of  details  without  other  relation  to  our 
expanding  life  than  classic  literature  has  to  our  expanding  knowledge, 
then  we  might  as  well  confine  our  discussion  of  mural  painting  to  its 
expression  in  the  Renaissance.  But  some  of  our  painters  are  painting 
on  the  walls  of  our  buildings  subjects  which  however  draped  have 
a  relation  to  modern  life,  and  since  our  architecture  is  nearly  all 
unmodern  and  some  of  our  painting  is  modern,  it  may  be  worth  while 
to  discuss  both  ancient  and  modern  mural  painting  in  relation  to 
architecture. 

WTiatever  one  may  think  about  the  glory  and  dignity  of  panel 
picture  painting  and  its  relation  to  life,  I  think  no  one  will  deny  that 
wall  painting  should  relate  to  walls.  That  is,  to  have  an  excuse  on 
the  walls  of  architecture  it  must  be  an  extension  of  architecture.     It 


RELATION  OF  MURAL  PAINTING  TO  ARCHITECTURE 

must  help  the  other  architectural  forms  to  express  the  purpose  of  the 
building.  If  so,  we  may  set  it  down  that  wall  painting,  together  N\ith 
any  other  purely  ornamental  part  of  the  building,  must  be  more  than 
beautiful  as  ornament  to  have  a  legitimate  place  in  architecture. 
With  that  granted  as  principle,  let  us  examine  a  little  the  mural  paint- 
ing of  the  past.  I  suppose  that  our  modern  mural  painters  would 
scarcely  accept  the  painted  walls  of  the  ancients  as  mural  painting. 
They  would  be  relegated  to  the  sphere  of  the  decorator's  art.  But 
no  matter  how  little  relation  they  may  have  to  painting  as  we  know 
it,  the  best  of  them  at  least  fulfilled  the  primary  requirement  as  an 
extension  of  architecture.  The  well-preserved  wall  paintings  of 
Pompeii  with  their  strong  flat  tones  and  their  conventionalized  fig- 
ures and  fanciful  architectural  adjuncts  always  remain  walls.  They 
never  give  the  sense  of  raised  ornament  nor  of  an  opening  through 
which  we  are  looking.  Few  would  think  that  it  would  be  legitimate 
architectural  painting  to  extend  the  length  of  a  vaulted  and  pilastered 
corridor  by  painting  in  perspective  a  continuation  of  those  pilasters 
and  vaults  upon  the  end  of  the  corridor.  How  much  more  legitimate 
is  it  to  paint  on  flat  walls  naturalistic  landscapes,  or  allegorical  figures 
floating   in   a   luminous   sky  ? 

APART  from  such  flat  wall  painting  as  I  have  mentioned  I  can 
recall  few  mural  decorations  that  are  a  true  extension  of  the 
architecture  of  the  edifice  which  they  are  supposed  to  adorn. 
Very  splendid  painting  is  the  roof  of  the  Sistine  Chapel,  but  painted 
niches,  carvings  and  moldings, — a  plain  vaulted  ceiling  so  painted 
that  the  guide  has  to  tell  you  that  the  moldings  and  figures  are  flat — 
this  is  scene  painting,  not  architecture.  Few  of  our  painters  or 
critics  will  defend  this  painting  of  projecting  architectural  detail; 
but  how,  let  me  ask,  does  it  dift'er  in  essence  from  most  of  our  mural 
painting,  either  of  the  Renaissance  or  of  the  present  ?  It  is  true  that 
a  painting  containing  some  tremendous  prophecy  might  be  important 
enough  for  us  to  build  a  temple  about,  of  wliich  it  should  be  the 
focal  point.  It  hasn't  been  painted  yet.  It  is  also  true  that  a  build- 
ing built  to  enshrine  some  noble  hope  for  the  future,  or  to  entomb 
some  sacred  human  triumph  of  the  past,  might  have  emblazoned  upon 
its  walls  that  hope  or  that  story.  But  where  is  it.'  Since  we  find  it 
necessary  to  build  shelters  in  which  to  worship  God,  or  halls  in  which 
to  work  out  human  destinies,  their  walls  and  ceilings  should  look 
solid  as  well  as  keep  out  the  heat  or  cold.  Our  painters  paint  too 
well,  and  the  temptation  is  strong  upon  them  to  consider  walls  as  so 
much  canvas,  not  the  sides  of  rooms.  The  Gothic  builders  who 
knew  so  little  and  guessed  so  much,  whose  knowledge  of  the  past 


RELATION  OF  MURAL  PAINTING  TO  ARCHITECTURE 

was  so  small  but  whose  intuition  was  so  pregnant,  either  did  not 
want  to  or  did  not  know  how  to  paint  in  the  round,  so  that  even  their 
shaded  ornament  remains  flat,  but  I  question  if  their  architecture  was 
extended  or  made  more  significant  by  paint,  except  where  they  merely 
colored  their  ornament  or  tinted  their  walls.  Certainly  the  restora- 
tion of  Gothic  color  ornament  on  buildings,  even  those  by  Viollet  le 
Due,  are  not  an  advantage  to  the  buildings  they  are  supposed  to 
adorn.  The  stone  cutter  and  the  sculptor  left  little  enough  plain 
surface  as  a  contrast  to  their  fashioning  of  the  builded  form,  but 
their  painted  ornament  was  at  least  flat,  and  unfortunately  this  may 
not  be  said  of  the  wall  paintings  of  our  modern  painters  any  more 
than  those  of  the  Renaissance.  You  see,  our  painters  are  geniuses, 
not  builders,  and  they  are  not  encouraged  to  become  cobuilders  by 
our  architects  who  desire  them  to  paint  the  eyes  in  the  stolen  peacock 
feathers  of  their  art.  Some  of  these  modern  paintings  on  walls  are 
very  splendid.  They  even  add  to  our  joy  and  pride,  as  in  the  new 
Pennsylvania  State  Capitol  where  they  distract  attention  from  the 
architecture,  but  they  are  not  a  part  of  those  buildings, — "bone  of 
their  bone  and  flesh  of  their  flesh."  Sargent's  prophets  are  wonder- 
ful painting,  but  not  architecture.  They  are  not  even  a  frieze,  but  a 
painted  band,  and  over  them  floats  a  ceihng,  which  by  reason  of  its 
relief  work  and  conventionalization  of  treatment  is  more  sohd  and 
heavy  than  the  frieze.  Abbey's  knights  are  hterary  and  therefore 
fitting  for  a  hbrary.  They  are,  however,  not  walls,  but  holes  in  walls; 
they  are  illustrative  painting.  And  Puvis  de  Chavannes'  paintings 
are,  from  my  point  of  view,  flat  only  because  of  their  pasty  colors. 
Take  the  more  recent  paintings  of  the  rotunda  of  the  Carnegie  In- 
stitute in  Pittsburgh.  The  stairways,  balconies  and  columns  have  a 
certain  sohdness  by  reason  of  being  built  of  marble.  Even  the  ceil- 
ings look  heavy  enough  to  give  the  columns  something  to  do.  But 
the  walls !  There  are  none.  A  few  thin  and  feeble  laths  of  pilasters 
stand  trembUngly  in  a  sky  of  smoke  lit  up  by  the  lurid  glare  of  far 
down  furnaces,  and  floating  in  this  some  lovely  figures  pay  homage 
to  the  armed  man  of  iron,  also  floating.  He,  of  course,  makes  the 
scene  impossible,  but  you  don't  make  a  painting  flat  by  making  it 
improbable.  And  piercing  the  misty  deeps  are  the  doors  to  rooms 
which  look  as  if  they  had  wandered  in  quite  by  mistake.  Is  that  an 
extension  of  architecture,  Mr.  Painter.' 

THE  illustrator's  art  may  be  and  often  is  an  extension  of  literature. 
It  illumines  the  text.     The  artist's  pictures  sometimes  have 
great  and  noble  thoughts  enshrined  in  their  beauty,  and  are 
their  own  excuse.     But  we  have  a  right  to  demand  that  mural  paint- 


RELATION  OF  MURAL  PAINTING  TO  ARCHITECTURE 

ing  shall  be  different  from  this.  Color  we  need  on  our  walls,  as  well 
as  form,  but  how  ruay  we  properly  paint  that  form  ?  The  painters 
of  the  Renaissance  set  the  pace  by  painting  their  splendid  pictures 
without  regard  to  the  architectural  surroundings  or  the  purpose  of 
the  surface  on  which  they  painted,  just  as  the  architects  used  their 
forms  without  regard  for  material  or  structure.  It  did  not  fret  them 
when  their  stone  arches  required  iron  rods  to  keep  them  from  falling 
because  the  thrusts  were  not  provided  for  in  the  piers.  So  that  the 
painters  cannot  be  blamed  for  using  the  wall  for  the  glory  of  their 
art  rather  than  for  the  glory  of  architecture ;  and  as  we  are  still  in  the 
Renaissance,  still  believe  that  dead  forms  fit  us  better  than  an  expres- 
sion of  our  own  life  in  our  buildings,  we  cannot  blame  the  modern 
painters  for  falling  into  the  trap  of  that  gorgeous  past. 

But  we  are  beginning  to  demand  a  vital  arcliitecture,  and  we  must 
also  demand  vital  and  reasonable  adjuncts  to  it.  I  make  no  attempt 
to  set  bounds  to  the  possibilities  of  mural  painting,  although  I  myself 
see  no  way  in  which  such  painting  can  be  kept  flat  without  looking 
thin,  and  at  the  same  time  afford  the  artists  anything  like  their  present 
fieedom  of  expression.  The  real  trouble  is  that  our  schools  and  our 
layman's  worsliip  of  art  as  expressed  in  painting  and  sculpture  have 
divorced  it  from  craftsmanship.  Our  painters  learn  to  paint  pictures 
first  and  walls  afterward.  They  should  learn  "plain  and  decorative" 
house  painting  first.  If  our  art  schools  were  crafts  schools  primarily, 
as  Gutzon  Borglum  demands  that  they  shall  be,  we  might  have  great 
hopes  for  a  real  mural  art,  and  not  so  many  of  the  students  of  such 
schools  would  spend  their  lives  in  hopeless  disillusion,  despising  the 
only  work  they  can  get  paid  for.  And  out  of  the  army  of  craftsmen, 
usefully  employed  in  making  and  decorating  the  affairs  of  everyday 
life,  would  come  up  the  giants  of  the  brush,  with  something  worth 
telling  us  besides  the  glory  of  their  own  skill,  some  message  for  the 
people,  whom  they  would  then  know,  as  pregnant  as  the  glorified  folk 
nuisic  which  constitutes  all  of  the  world's  real  music. 

THERE  was  a  time  when  the  church  dominated  the  life  of  the 
people  and  expressed  their  highest  longings,  and  the  highest 
and  best  of  the  painter's  art  was  then  expended  for  the  glorifica- 
tion of  the  church  as  a  church  rather  than  of  the  architecture  of  the 
church.  Rut  we  no  longer  build  churches  for  the  people,  only  for 
sects  and  classes  of  people,  and  there  is  little  stimulus  for  the  painter's 
art  in  them.  They  are  not  vital  enough  to  woo  the  painter  to  their 
walls,  and  if  he  were  to  be  induced  to  glorify  their  sectionalism  he 
would  be  tied  to  an  art  as  Mediseval  as  their  conception  of  religion 
is,  and  those  churches  that  are  vital  enough  to  demand  a  li\ang  ex- 


.S^.V    t^Tgf    14 


"my    daughters    HELEN    AND    MARIA": 
JOAQUIN    SOROLLA    Y    BASTIDA,    PAINTER. 


RELATION  OF  MURAL  PAINTING  TO  ARCHITECTURE 

pression  ^^  a  living  religion  are  both  too  poor  to  pay  the  price  and 
too  interested  in  the  work  in  hand  to  care  to  divert  their  fighting  force 
to  painted  symbols.  Until  we  have  a  church  vital  enough  to  draw 
the  painters  and  builders  to  build  its  sanctuary  for  love,  there  will 
be  no  great  art  in  our  churches. 

Neither  are  we  worshipers  of  the  State,  as  the  Romans  were. 
Our  temples  of  the  State  are  too  often  temples  of  graft  and  seldom 
a  true  expression  of  the  needs  and  desires  of  the  mass  of  the  people, 
so  that  the  opportunity  they  offer  to  the  mural  painter  is  not  very 
seductive  except  as  a  means  of  livelihood  or  self-expression.  One 
cannot  look  for  a  harmonious  and  convincing  whole  out  of  the  oppor- 
tunity offered  our  painters  and  sculptors  by  such  a  wretched  sham 
as  the  Pennsylvania  State  Capitol  at  Harrisburg.  Commonplace 
in  scheme,  feeble  and  vapid  in  detail,  without  a  note  of  modernism 
or  relevancy  to  our  democratic  form  of  government,  it  is  no  more 
than  an  ill-fitting  tomb  for  the  work  of  conscientious  painters,  sculf)- 
tors  and  craftsmen.  While  some  of  our  public  buildings  are  better 
built  and  follow  more  carefully  the  borrowed  detail  of  the  past,  few 
if  any  of  them  are  vital  with  the  thoughts  and  enthusiasms  of  the 
present.  In  fact  our  so-called  culture  rather  despises  enthusiasms 
when  expressed  in  the  work  of  our  hands  and  clings  tenaciously  to 
the  learning  and  enthusiasms  of  other  days  made  i-espectable  by  death. 

The  theater  might  well  lend  itself  to  the  painter's  brush.  It  is 
the  home  of  symbolism.  Its  work  is  both  educational  and  joyous. 
We  pay  well  to  be  amused  and  diverted,  and  we  might  reasonably 
demand  that  some  of  our  money  be  spent  on  the  embellishment  of 
the  playhouse  by  the  hands  of  our  master  painters. 

But  we  are  primarily  a  domestic  people,  and  it  is  about  our  homes 
that  we  should  expect  to  center  our  greatest  efforts  for  beauty.  But 
except  in  the  transplanted  palaces  of  the  rich,  we  have  to  be  content 
with  the  very  simple  forms  of  decoration  and  we  seem  barred  out  of 
our  greatest  heritage,  the  significant  art  of  our  fellow  men.  But  for 
the  questionable  advantage  of  the  occasional  visit  to  galleries  and 
exhibitions  of  painting,  our  lives  are  pretty  much  devoid  of  real  art 
except  for  music,  and  yet  here  where  we  live  should  we  find  the  stim- 
ulus to  endeavor  and  growth  wrapped  up  in  the  true  art  products 
of  master  men. 

We  have  so  stupidly  arranged  our  economic  relations  that  even 
the  craftsmen  who  make  or  could  make  beautiful  things  cannot 
afford  to  buy  each  other's  wares.  This  would  not  be  so  true  if  our 
art  people  were  craft  people  first  and  what  we  recognize  as  artists 
afterward,  and  it  is  this  very  lack  of  craftsmanship,  of  willingness  to 
serve  our  fellow  men  in  the  little  things,  that  keeps  us  from  doing  the 


II 


THE   CONQUEROR 

big  things.  All  great  music  is  glorified  folk  music,  and  all  great 
architecture  is  glorified  craftsmanship,  and  we  may  not  have  the 
one  without  the  other.  Architecture  is  not  diagrams,  paper  plans, 
but  building  materials  put  together  by  craftsmen,  with  wall  and  roof, 
pinnacle  or  dome,  fashioned  in  lines  of  beauty,  sculpture  that  is  cut 
upon  the  necessary  stones  of  the  edifice,  color  and  form  built  into  its 
walls,  splendid  with  the  aspirations  of  designers,  of  users  and  of  fash- 
ioners alike,  tentative,  seeking  always  the  simple  and  higher  form, 
content  to  be  destroyed  to  make  way  for  the  new  day's  life,  a  record 
of  growth  primarily  and  of  knowledge  secondarily, — this  is  archi- 
tecture. And  it  mil  come  only  when  the  builders,  painters,  architects 
and  sculptors  stoop  to  conquer, — pick  up  the  tools  of  the  crafts, 
knowing  that  nothing  is  too  lowly  to  be  glorified  that  is  of  service  to 
man.  Self-expression  may  reach  its  highest  plane  in  ornamenting 
and  making  expressive  the  commonplace,  and  only  by  being  a  ser- 
vant of  the  commonplace  can  one  hope  to  become  the  master  of  art's 
consummate  glories. 


THE  CONQUEROR 

WHAT  are  the  fears  and  toils  of  life  to  me. 
That  I  should  tremble  on  my  guarded  throne 
Or  plead  for  pity,  making  human  moan 
Like  any  helpless  creature!     Verily 
The  crown  is  to  the  conqueror,  and  I  see 
Beyond  this  hour  of  battle.     I  have  sown 
With  lavish  hand  my  fertile  fields,  and  own 
The  plenty  of  my  harvests.     Destiny, 
Tyrant  of  slaves,  is  servant  of  my  unll; 

To  all  my  gods  are  her  libations  poured, 
And  only  at  my  bidding  may  she  fill 

The  cups  of  good  and  evil  on  my  board. 
My  song  Time's  warning  finger  shall  not  still. 
Nor  Death  destroy  me  with  his  flaming  sword. 

Elsa  Barker. 


12 


JOAQUIN  SCROLL  A  Y  BASTIDA:  A  MODERN 
SPANISH  MASTER:  BY  KATHARINE  M.  ROOF 

""^S  YOU  step  from  the  dull  light  and  dead  air  of  the 
Subway  into  the  clear  cold  wind  that  blows  across 
the  Hudson  on  your  way  to  the  Sorolla  pictures,  you 
get  something  of  that  impression  of  sunshine,  fresh- 
ness and  blueness  that  you  feel  in  your  first  glance  at 
one  of  the  Spanish  master's  canvases.  Early  and 
late  on  certain  days  the  ragged  perpendicular  blue 
shadows  on  the  Palisades  are  such  as  Sorolla  loves  to  paint. 

The  library  and  museum  founded  by  Archer  M.  Huntington  and 
presented  by  him  to  the  Hispanic  Society  of  America,  was  opened 
to  the  public  a  httle  over  a  year  ago.  It  is  the  gift  of  one  who  loves 
Spain  and  the  Spaniards  to  the  people  of  his  own  country,  given  that 
they  may  become  better  acquainted  wdth  the  art,  history  and  litera- 
ture of  Spain  and  Portugal.  The  present  exhibit  of  the  pictures  of 
Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida  is  part  of  this  plan.  It  is  to  be  followed 
by  another  of  the  work  of  Zuloaga,  a  Spanish  painter  not  generally 
known  in  America. 

"What  an  epitome  of  the  history  of  the  city  and  of  our  country  is 
that  little  northwest  edge  of  Manhattan  where  the  Huntington  build- 
ing stands!  It  faces  Audubon  Park,  named  for  the  great  naturalist 
whose  house  is  close  by — with  a  mansard  roof  added  at  the  period 
when  that  adornment  seemed  an  indispensable  part  of  domestic 
architecture.  Trinity  graveyard  is  a  block  away,  and  not  far  off  the 
grave  of  The  Amiable  Child.  There  are  houses  that  tell  of  the  time 
when  that  region  was  country,  of  the  time  when  it  was  suburban,  of 
the  period  when  it  became  city  and  outskirts.  The  story  is  told  in 
the  architecture  of  the  neighborhood,  which  ranges  from  that  of  the 
simple  homely  late  sixties  and  early  seventies  to  the  rococo  horrors 
that  followed,  and  the  subsequent  Queen  Anne  cottage  era  that 
imagined  itself  esthetic,  and  concludes  with  the  smug  impersonality 
of  the  modern  flat.  Then  there  are  great  mounds  of  raw  earth  in 
process  of  upheaval,  preparatory  to  further  building,  and  about  their 
edges  are  the  improvised  shacks  belonging  to  the  Italian  laborers, 
recent  citizens,  who  are  doing  the  work.  As  you  glance  in  and  see 
them  at  their  lunch,  glimpses  of  dark  faces  and  red  neck-scarfs  recall 
their  relationship  to  the  Latin  nation  to  which  the  new  library  and 
museum  a  block  away  is  a  monument,  a  striking  illustration  of  the 
mixture  of  races  in  our  English-speaking  country.  For  this  building, 
the  most  recently  finished  of  all,  fitly  stands  for  the  present  period  of 
America's  development.  Its  entrance  is  flanked  by  two  flags, — the 
yellow  and  red  that  symbolizes  the  ancient  beauty  of  an  old  race  and 

13 


SOROLLA:   A   MODERN   SPANISH  INIASTER 

a  Southern  country,  the  stars  and  stripes  that  stand  for  a  new  land 
and  that  are  brave  if  not  beautiful. 

THOSE  who  keep  in  touch  with  current  affairs  in  Paris,  which  is 
still  the  cosmopolitan  art  center  of  the  world,  know  that  the 
best  work  in  the  yearly  Salon  is  no  longer  that  of  French  painters 
but  of  Spanish  and  American  artists.  The  opportunities  of  Ameri- 
cans at  home  for  familiarizing  themselves  with  contemporaneous 
Continental  art  are,  of  course,  more  limited,  although  foreign  artists 
are  represented  at  our  expositions.  Sorolla,  I  believe,  exhibited  at 
the  St.  Louis  Exposition.  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  wish  to 
know  something  about  the  painter  himself,  it  may  be  stated  that  he 
was  born  in  Valencia  of  humble  parents  who  died  in  his  childhood; 
that  he  was  adopted  by  his  uncle,  a  locksmith,  who  had  planned  the 
same  career  for  his  nephew.  When  the  boy's  talent  manifested 
itself,  however,  he  was  permitted  to  attend  an  art  class,  and  at  fifteen 
Sorolla  definitely  gave  up  locksmi thing  and  devoted  all  his  time  to 
studying  art.  Subsequently  he  visited  Rome  and  Paris  and  came 
in  touch  with  the  more  varied  field  of  Continental  art.  But  the  boy 
who  had  seen  the  Velasquezes  in  the  Madrid  museum  had  already 
read  the  last  word  of  the  history  of  art  up  to  its  present  writing. 
Add  to  the  imperishable  name  of  the  seventeenth-century  master 
that  of  Goya  of  the  century  preceding  our  own,  and  you  realize  the 
ideal  that  is  before  the  Spanish  painters  of  today. 

People  have  different  ways  of  acquainting  themselves  with  pic- 
tures, as  they  have  their  individual  ways  of  enjoying  other  things. 
It  has  occurred  to  me  sometimes  in  a  gallery  that  if  people  must  be 
instructed  in  printed  monologues  "How  to  Listen  to  Music"  and 
"How  to  Judge  a  Picture,"  itVight  be  an  excellent  idea  for  someone 
to  write  on  "How  to  Enjoy  the  Arts"  in  question.  The  first  maxim 
would  certainly  be  "  Be  honest  with  yourself  and  don't  pretend  to  like 
a  picture  that  "doesn't  really  appeal  to  you,"  and  the  second  would  be 
"Don't  attempt  to  do  too  much  at  a  time."  Studying  pictures  is 
peculiarly  fatiguing  to  the  eye  and  attention,  and  after  a  short  time 
the  mind  ceases  to  record  impressions.  Yet  even  people  who  have 
realized  this  fact  will  attempt  to  take  in  all  the  pictures  in  a  foreign 
gallery  or  a  large  exhibition  in  one  long  visit.  The  artist  or  art 
student,  of  course,  approaches  a  picture  with  a  different  viewpoint 
from  that  of  the  layman,  for  to  the  professional  the  greatest  interest 
lies  in  the  way  the  "thing  is  done.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  visitor 
studying  the  "Sorolla  collection — and  indeed  this  is  true  of  all  "one 
man  exhibits" — will  receive  the  truest  impression  of  the  painter's 
temperament  and  quality  by  first  walking  neither  too  quickly  nor 

14 


"IMS     MA.IFMV     AIImXmi     Mil,     KING    OF     SPAIN 
|I1\1MI\    SOKIIIIA    \     I'.AslII'A.    rAINilH. 


"OLD   CASTILIAN     :    JOAQIIN'    SOROLLA 
V    BASTIUA,    PA:NTEK. 


"naked   baby"  ;   joaquin   surolla 
y   bastida,    fainter. 


SOROLLA:  A   MODERN  SPANISH  MASTER 

too  slowly  through  all  the  rooms,  inevitably  pausing  longer  before 
some  than  others,  and  selecting,  of  course,  unconsciously  those  he 
Tvall  return  to  afterward.  Taken  in  this  way  one  realizes  at  once 
vividly  the  painter's  choice  of  subject,  which  means  his  art  person- 
ality. '  It  is  clear  that  the  thing  that  appeals  most  strongly  to  this 
Spanish  master  in  outdoor  subjects  is  the  beauty  of  flesh  and  white 
and  bright-colored  stuffs  in  brilliant  sea  sunlight.  But  there  are  also 
a  number  of  strongly  individualized  portraits.  One  can  fairly  feel 
the  wind  and  the  hot  sunslune,  smell  the  salt  air,  hear  the  children's 
voices  in  these  beach  subjects.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  no 
one  since  the  beginning  of  the  Plein  Air  movement  has  dealt  so  success- 
fully with  the  problem  of  the  figure  in  outdoor  atmosphere.  One 
canvas,  "The  Grandson,"  shows  the  most  wonderful  painting  of  a 
child's  white  naked  back  in  the  sunlight  against  the  background  of 
the  sea.  Another,  "Low  Tide,"  a  little  barefoot  girl  carrying  a  pail 
over  the  wet  sand  is  of  an  incredible  freshness  and  verity, — the  clear 
sweep  of  the  gray-blue  sand,  the  little  crisp  light-colored  figure,  with 
small  but  poignant  touches  of  red,  blue  and  violet  in  her  hair  and  hat 
ribbons  and  in  remote  figures.  "  Taking  in  the  Sail,"  an  old  man  with 
a  red  cap  in  sunhght  against  a  dark  background  of  intensely  blue  sea, 
is  an  extraordinary  piece  of  painting.  So  is  the  "Little  Girl  with 
Blue  Ribbon,"  a  pink  child  against  blue  sand.  "Children  in  the 
Sea,"  a  group  of  naked  boys  in  the  water,  is  technically  a  marvel. 
The  way  the  figures  and  their  reflections  are  blotted  into  the  blue  is 
a  thing  to  inspire  awe  in  the  heart  of  the  student.  Another  group 
called  simply  "  Children  on  the  Beach"  is  an  indescribable  transcription 
of  the  hght^  shade  and  evasive  mixture  of  both  that  one  sees  upon 
flesh  in  the  strong  sea  sunlight  with  its  attendant  blue  shadow.  It 
is  one  of  the  canvases  that  must  have  made  the  painter  supremely 
happy  when  he  saw  how  he  had  caught  the  elusive  thing  and  pinned 
it  there.  "After  the  Bath"  is  another  such  a  marvel  of  achievement. 
It  shows  the  figure  of  a  young  girl  in  a  wet  bathing  suit  of  some  light- 
colored  cotton  stuff  which  clings  here  and  there  to  her  figure.  A 
young  man  is  covering  her  with  a  white  sheet  which  is  half  in  shade, 
iialf  in  dazzling  sunlight.  The  painting  of  the  sunlight,  the  light 
and  shade  on  the  reddened  faces  and  &esh,  the  color  of  the  flesh 
through  the  wet  cloth  is  a  revelation  of  technique.  A  small  canvas 
of  bathers,  presented  to  our  own  painter,  William  M.  Chase,  by  the 
artist,  a  mere  indication,  blotting  in  of  figures,  is  another  marvel  of 
efi"ect  and  generahzation.  "Sea  Idyl,"  another  study  of  bathers,  a 
boy  and  girl  Ijnng  on  the  sand,  shows  a  delightful  eflect  of  the  boy's 
bare  legs  half  submerged  in  the  water.  In  all  of  these  beach  sub- 
jects the  attitudes  of  the  bathers  are  almost  startlingly  characteristic. 

21 


SOROLLA:  A   MODERN   SPANISH   IVIASTER 

All  the  instinctive  actions  and  movements  of  the  baby,  the  small 
bov,  the  little  girl  in  the  water  have  been  caught  and  recorded.  If 
there  is  a  defect,  an  occasional  failure  of  effect,  in  these  remarkable 
pictures,  it  is  in  the  painting  of  the  water,  which  now  and  then  has  a 
lack  of  verisimilitude,  of  texture.  The  problem  of  preserving  the 
dazzUng  brilliancy  of  white  material  and  human  flesh  in  strong  sun- 
light against  water  is  one  that  is  seldom  successfully  dealt  with.  The 
rub  comes  in  the  process  of  lowering  the  tone  of  the  water  sufficiently 
to  preserve  the  brilliancv  of  the  effect  without  sacrificing  the  essential 
quality  of  looking  like  water.  It  is  a  subtle  and  complex  problem. 
Most  of  the  work  of  the  painters  commonly  labeled  as  impressionists 
lacks  lamentably  in— if  it  does  not  display  utter  ignorance  of— the 
question  of  values. 

The  three  large  canvases  in  the  upper  gallery  are  the  least  mter- 
esting  in  the  exhibition.  "Beaching  the  Boat"  looks  as  if  it  were  an 
earlier  canvas,  wrought  before  the  painter  had,  in  the  popular  phrase, 
found  himself.  The  landscapes  without  figures,  upon  the  whole, 
give  one  the  feeling  of  being  inferior  in  quality  to  the  rest  of  the  work. 
Some  sumrest  Monet.     The  "Shadow  of  the  Alcantara  Bridge"  is 


interesting  exception,  in  which  the  picture  might  be  said  to  be  in 
water.     "St.  Martin's  Bridge,"  a  study  of  water,  a  bridge  and 


an 

the 

the  opposite  shore  is  also  delightful. 


NOT  the  least  interesting  thing  in  the  exhibition,— perhaps  the 
most  so  from  the  professional  standpoint— is  the  marvelous 
collection  of  small  canvases  of  which  almost  every  one  is  a 
masterpiece.  No  one  has  ever  given  more  successfully  the  sense 
of  what  the  eye  takes  in  at  the  first  glance— but  it  is  the  glance  of  the 
master!  Such  an  exquisite  sense  of  mass,  of  light  and  dark,  of  the 
exact  value  of  vivid  spots  of  color,  must  be  revealed  to  most  perceptions 
through  the  eyes  of  the  painter.  The  majority  of  these  small  canvases 
are  beach  subjects, — a  group  of  bright-colored  figures,  one  or  two 
isolated  bits  of' color  against  the  sands,  effects  in  color,  tone,  light  and 
shadow,  all  with  the  value,  the  sense  of  space  and  atmosphere,  of 
large  canvases. 

The  portraits  and  indoor  studies  furnish  more  material  for  study 
— Sorolla  is  a  wonderful  object  lesson  for  the  student.  The  rnother 
and  small  baby  in  bed,  a  stmly  of  the  painter's  wafe  and  child,  is 
striking,  humanly  and  artistically, — the  beautiful  simple  painting 
of  the  two  great  masses  of  white, — the  bed  and  the  wall,  and  the  two 
spots  of  the  faces,  the  dark  profile  of  the  mother  turned  toward  the 
mystery  of  her  baby's  small  pink  face.  Two  of  the  most  interesting 
portraits  in  the  collection  are  of  the  painter's  wife.     Both  show  her 


22 


SOROLLA:  A  MODERN  SPANISH  INIASTER 

in  black,  in  one  standing,  the  significant  note  of  a  red  spindle  chair 
touched  in  at  the  left;  the  other  is  seated  in  a  dark  interior,  the 
hands  and  bits  of  the  gown  come  out  into  the  light,  but  the  smile 
shimmers  obscurely  in  the  shadow.  Another  portrait  of  the  artist's 
little  girl  Maria  with  a  note  of  red  in  her  dark  hair  is  a  fascinating 
bit  of  painting.  There  are  a  number  of  portraits  of  men  of 
■v\^dely  varying  types,  and  the  interesting  thing  about  them,  above 
and  teyond  their  technical  excellence,  is  their  unusual  quality  of 
reflecting  the  individuality  of  the  subject  instead  of  focusing  attention 
upon  the  technique  or  mannerisms  of  the  painter.  Each  portrait 
gives  one  the  feeling  of  having  actually  seen  the  person  represented. 
They  are  painted,  in  short,  in  the  subject's  atmosphere,  not  the 
artist's. 

At  the  second  seeing,  the  interest — to  one  having  that  interest — 
centers  most  strongly  upon  the  technique.  The  thing  one  reaHzes 
first  is  its  inspiring  freshness.  There  is  not  a  suggestion  of  uncertainty, 
worry  or  fumble.  The  less  successful  canvases  just  turned  out  so 
— the  accident  of  spontaneous  expression.  As  Mr.  Chase  often 
says  to  his  pupils,  it  is  only  the  mediocre  man  whose  work  is  always 
even.  Yet  do  not  let  anyone  misunderstand  this  use  of  the  word 
spontaneous.  Years  of  study  lie  behind  that  fresh  direct  expression 
that  we  admire  in  the  work  of  the  master.  The  sure  strong  swirl 
and  stroke  of  Sorolla's  brush  is  the  result  of  complete  mastery  of 
the  elements  of  his  art.  There  is  no  hesitation.  It  has  the  certairity 
of  the  brush  of  the  Japanese  artist.  Notice  the  wonderful  simplicity 
of  the  drawing  that  expresses  the  delicate  subtle  lines, — the  baby's 
legs  contracted  at  the  touch  of  water,  the  characteristic  anatomy 
of  the  little  boy,  the  subtlety  of  the  flesh  tones,  so  modeled  yet  so 
faintly  dift'erentiated  in  value  and  color.  But  SoroUa  is  no  longer 
conscious  of  these  tilings  that  burden  the  mind  of  the  student.  He 
has  learned  them  and  forgotten  them.  He  saw  his  picture  finished 
in  his  mind  before  he  put  his  brush  to  canvas.  Each  stroke  was  sure 
and  a  step  to  the  end.  The  canvases  of  many  painters — some  of  our 
tonahsts  in  particular — are  not  devoid  of  the  suggestion  that  their 
eftect  was  stumbled  upon  by  accident,  and  only  too  often  the  paint  is 
fumbled  into  deadness  in  the  process.  This  is  true  of  the  work  of  one 
of  our  landscapists  who  commands  high  prices.  But  it  is  never  the 
case  with  Sorolla.  Everywhere  one  is  struck  with  the  freshness  of 
the  idea  as  it  first  came  to  the  painter.  And  the  idea  is  always  clear. 
There  is  no  room  for  doubt  in  our  minds  as  to  why  the  painter  chose 
his  motive. 


23 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION: 
A  METHOD  NEEDED  WHICH  WILL  ADAPT 
THE  WHOLE  RACE  KNOWLEDGE  TO  THE 
COMMON  LIFE:  BY  SIDNEY  MORSE 

HAT  the  world  wants  today  is  a  new  conception  of 
democracy.  That  the  common  man,  often  falsely 
called  the  ignorant  man,  is  the  most  important  social 
factor;  that  the  mass  of  common  men  is  the  basis  of 
social  law  and  order  and  its  heart  the  social  center 
of  gravity;  that  the  common  way  of  life  is  the  right 
way, — all  these  are  phases  of  a  more  democratic  habit 
of  thought  to  wliich  we  must  return. 

These  facts  will  be  more  apparent  on  consideration  of  the  op- 
posite extreme  represented  by  the  modern  type  of  specialist.  The 
phrase  "common  man"  is  suggestive.  There  is  a  certain  amount  of 
knowledge, — as  of  the  nutritive  and  reproductive  functions — that  a 
man  must  have  to  be  human  and  to  be  normal.  This  knowledge 
all  men  share  in  common.  The  significant  fact  concerning  the  so- 
called  common  man  is  that  he  has  little  other  knowledge.  He  is  not 
ignorant.  As  compared  with  animals  or  savages,  he  knows  much. 
But  his  knowledge,  being  common  to  all,  does  not  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  his  fellows.  The  most  advanced  specialist  is  an  opposite 
extreme.  His  distinction  is  due  to  the  fact  that  he  has  a  knowledge 
of  his  specialty  possessed  by  no  other  human  lieing  save  himself. 
There  is  a  vast  gap  between  these  antipodes. 

So  regarded,  the  specialist  is  at  once  seen  to  be  in  a  lonely  and 
precarious  position.  He  is  a  pioneer  beyond  the  confines  of  knowledge. 
The  heart  of  humanity  beats  back  yonder,  centrally,  in  the  mass  of 
common  men.  The  varied  interests  of  human  life  are  there.  These 
the  specialist  has  forsaken.  One  is  reminded  of  the  Forty-niner 
who  abandoned  home  and  friends,  placed  his  all  on  a  prairie  schooner 
and  directed  his  footsteps  toward  Sutter's  Creek.  Piece  by  piece  he 
lightened  his  load  of  possessions,  to  arrive  at  last, — if  by  chance  he 
did  arrive, — a  spent  and  not  infrequently  a  broken  creature. 

The  confines  of  knowledge  are  now  so  extensive  and  the  frontier 
is  so  far  away  that  to  reach  it  a  man  must  concentrate  the  energies 
of  a  lifetime  upon  a  single  task.  Concentration  is  essential  to  the 
specialist.  TTiiavoidal)ly  it  implies  neglect  of  other  things.  And 
society,  like  Nature,  punishes  neglect  of  function  by  atrophy.  The 
specialist  tends  to  encroach  upon  the  time  due  to  the  interests  and 
obligations  of  common  life, — friends,  family,  society.  His  specialty 
detracts  from  the  duties  of  pariMit,  of  citizen  or  of  churchman.  He 
not  iiilV('(|uently  withdraws  from  these  to  spend  himself  in  the  attempt 

24 


THE   DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION 

to  outstrip  every  competitor  in  the  race  for  scientific  achievement. 
And  friends  and  society,  by  a  law  of  Nature,  repay  liim  by  hke 
neo-lect.  Common  men  have  no  use  for  the  speciaHst.  Eventually  he 
wins,  perhaps,  but  the  mass  of  men  take  little  account  of  his  win- 
nino-.  A  few  newspaper  notices,  soon  forgotten;  a  few  magazine 
articles  that  nobody  understands;  a  few  books  unread;  vast  potential 
good,  no  doubt,  to  coming  generations,  but  little  present  benefit, 
and  least  of  all  to  the  specialist, — such  is  the  record. 

But,  notwithstanding,  the  age  of  specialization  is  hardly  past. 
We  are  in  the  thick  of  it.  If  pervades  every  phase  of  life.  Farmers 
specialize,  laborers  specialize;  so  do  business  men,  doctors,  lawyers, 
clergymen,  educators.  Scientists  specialize,  of  coiu-se.  Doubtless 
a  distinction  should  be  drawn  between  the  scientist  who  specializes 
in  Sanskrit  and  the  workman  who  specializes  in  shoe-pegs.  But 
there  is  truth  in  the  witticism  of  a  pliilanthropist  who  referred  to  a 
specialist  in  the  natural  sciences  as  "a  kind  of  sublimated  day- 
laborer." 

MEANTIME  we  are  told  that  the  day  of  the  all-round  man 
has  passed.  In  pioneer  times  most  men  were  farmers,  most 
women  mothers  and  housekeepers.  We  are  told  that  the 
farmer's  family  of  past  venerations  conducted  some  sixty-five  occu- 
pations on  his  farm,  each  of  which  has  given  rise,  in  modern  times, 
to  a  distinctive  trade.  The  farmer  was  carpenter,  blacksmith  and 
carriage  ironer.  He  worked  metals.  He  made  boots  and  shoes. 
He  built  furniture.  And  the  women  of  his  family  spun,  dyed,  and 
wove  cloth,  made  rugs,  carpets,  and  the  like.  Nowadays  a  farmer 
goes  to  a  blacksmith  for  metal  work,  hires  a  carpenter  to  construct 
and  repair  his  buildings,  and  buys  at  the  general  store  cheap  factory- 
made  articles.  We  are  told  that  these  articles  are  a  thousand  times 
better  than  the  crude,  homespun  and  handmade  fabrics  and  furnish- 
ings of  his  grandparents;  further,  that  no  man  willingly  would  hark 
back  to  the  days  of  his  grandsires.  But  this  would  seem  to  be  a 
mere  begging  of  the  question. 

At  all  events,  in  those  days  they  made  men.  And  a  question  is 
persistently  coming  up  from  all  points  of  the  compass  as  to  the  mental 
and  moral  fiber  of  the  rising  generation.  The  suspicion  is  shrewdly 
gaining  upon  us  that  perhaps,  in  the  process  of  cheapening  every- 
thing, we  are  turning  out  also  a  generation  of  cheap  humanity;  which 
proposition,  if  it  be  demonstrable,  would  cause  us  to  question  whether 
the  benefits  of  specialization  and  the  division  of  labor  resulting  in 
cheapness  may  not,  after  all,  have  been  too  dearly  bought. 

The  same  question  presents  itself  in  the  domain  of  education. 

25 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF   SPECIALIZATION 

A  recent  volume  lays  the  axe  at  the  root  of  the  tree.  Or,  to  change 
the  figure,  like  a  high  explosive,  it  seems  likely  to  shatter  the  founda- 
tions of  present  methods  in  education  and  ultimately  to  clear  the 
way  for  a  sounder  basis  and  more  enduring  superstructure,  for  it 
frankly  points  out  that  the  way  of  advancement  for  the  college  teacher 
now  is  through  specialization.  His  back  is  accordingly  turned  to 
the  groups  of  undergraduates  in  his  classes  and  liis  face  is  set  toward 
the  confines  of  advanced  learning.  Undergraduates  are  the  sons 
of  common  men.  The  college  or  university  teacher  too  frequently 
has  little  time  for  them  and  less  sympathy,  for  the  energies  of  the 
specialist  are  absorbed  in  striving  to  win  place  in  the  ranks  of  scien- 
tific investigators.  He  abstracts  himself  from  his  class  to  concen- 
trate upon  his  monograph,  and  meantime  the  undergraduates  are  as 
sheep  without  a  shepherd. 

That  the  effect  of  extreme  specialization  must  be  to  narrow  the 
individual  to  the  focus  of  liis  specialty,  will  hardly  be  denied.  A 
farmer's  boy,  making  for  himself  a  pair  of  shoes,  gains  breadth  of 
skill  and  aptitude  as  far  beyond  comparison  with  that  of  the  artisan 
whose  day's  work  is  making  shoe-pegs,  as  crude  handiwork  is  below 
the  standard  of  a  modern  factory.  But  making  shoes  represents  one 
sixty-fifth  of  the  skill  of  the  old-time  farmer's  boy;  making  shoe-pegs, 
one  sixty-fifth  of  the  task  of  a  modern  factory.  And  the  square  of 
sixty-five  would  suggest  perhaps  the  superior  advantage  in  intellectual 
development  of  a  New  England  farm  training  a  hundred  years  ago, 
as  compared  with  the  factory  life  of  today.  They  had  a  saying  once 
that  the  great  crop  of  New  England  was  men.  The  saying  is  as  old- 
fashioned  now  as  the  mode  of  life  that  justified  it. 

UNFORTUNATELY,  the  evils  of  over-specialization  are  not 
confined  to  the  specialists.  There  is  something  seductive 
about  a  new  trail.  Men  like  to  follow  it  just  to  see  where  it 
will  end.  And  the  specialist,  naturally  enough,  likes  to  justify  his 
own  wisdom.  The  result  is  that  we  are  all  solicited  to  specialize,  and 
that  not  in  one  but  in  fifty  directions.  The  day  of  the  all-round 
man  being  at  an  end,  let  the  boy  decide  what  he  is  to  be.  Let  him 
elect  studies  and  shape  all  efforts  to  that  end.  Or,  if  he  cannot 
decide  for  himself,  let  him  take  advice  of  the  experts  until  he  can 
make  his  own  election.  The  difficulty  is  that  the  doctors  disagree. 
The  specialists  have  not  only  moved  diametrically  away  from  the 
social  center  of  gravity  but  at  diflerent  angles  to  one  another.  The 
farther  they  advance,  the  farther  apart  they  become.  Thus  having 
little  sympathy  with  common  men,  they  have  less  with  one  another. 
Among  college  teachers,  the  specialist  in  ancient  languages  advocates 

26 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION 

the  classics  as  the  gymnasium  of  the  mind  and  the  main  avenue  to 
social  distinction.  The  specialist  in  modern  languages  disparajjcs 
dead  language  and  urges  English  or  other  modern  tongues.  Ihe 
expert  in  mathematics  ignores  the  languages  and  advocates  special- 
ization in  his  department.  Is  it  surprising  that  among  these  con- 
flicting opinions,  a  student  not  infrequently  is  said  to  select  the  master 
who  is  the  best  fellow  and  the  subjects  that  he  thinks  likely  to  be 
easiest  to  get  through  ? 

The  result  of  excessive  specializing  are  so  numerous  and  apparent 
that  they  need  only  be  suggested.  Ihe  whole  influence  of  this  prin- 
ciple is  centrifugal.  It  is  anti-social.  It  tends  to  split  up  the  family, 
o-iving  each  member  an  interest  not  shared  in  common,  and  thus  to 
disorganize  the  home.  It  tends  also  to  disrupt  the  village  community 
by  impelling  the  more  intelligent  members  to  pursue  the  lines  of 
their  special  interests  toward  centers  of  population.  It  disrupts  the 
church  into  sects  and  the  sects  into  cliques.  It  has  produced  chaos 
in  the  educational  world.  By  its  very  nature  it  loosens  all  bonds. 
Common  men  are  injured  when  their  sons  are  taken  from  them  to 
become  specialists.  And  the  specialist,  who  gets  most  out  of  touch 
vdth  common  life,  is  the  most  injured  of  all. 

Of  course,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  wheels  of  time  cannot 
be  set  back.  A  case  could  doubtless  be  made  in  favor  of  the  special- 
ists which  would  justify  them  in  the  good  opinion  of  mankind.  Civil- 
ization has  profited  by  the  fruits  of  their  labors.  We  have  them 
amongst  us  and  we  would  not  mllingly  dispense  with  them  even  if 
we  could.  The  question  then  is  not  how  to  destroy,  but  how  to  con- 
struct. How  may  we  turn  to  account  the  results  of  specialization 
in  such  fashion  as  to  counteract  its  abuses  and  take  advantage  of  the 
resulting  good .'' 


'»    O" 


THE  interpretation  of  the  diagram  on  page  twenty-eight  may  afford 
a  clue  to  the  solution  of  this  problem.  The  field  of  society  is 
seen  to  consist  of  a  mass  of  common  men,  a  great  majority  of 
the  race,  located  centrally.  The  radial  lines  indicate  the  direction 
of  the  various  tendencies  of  scientific  investigation.  The  spiral  sug- 
gests the  rhythm  of  human  evolution;  the  isolated  dots,  the  position 
of  specialists  pushing  out  toward  the  confines  of  knowledge. 

It  is  at  once  seen  that  no  matter  how  far,  under  modern  conditions, 
a  specialist  may  go,  he  is  not  quite  alone.  The  most  advanced  worker 
has  always  at  his  heels  a  little  group  of  his  rivals  and  associates. 
Modern  means  of  communication  have  brought  these  remote  groups 
into  close  intellectual  touch,  and  the  result  has  been  to  give  occasion 
to  the  principle  of  voluntary  association  which,  in  its  nature,  is  com- 

27 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION 


plementary  to  the  princi- 
ple of  specialization.  It  is 
centripetal.  It  is  social. 
In  the  rhythm  of  evolution 
the  outward  j)ush  of  the 
specialist  is  met  by  this  in- 
ward corresponding  pull. 
The  principle  of  volun- 
tary association  has  come 
as  a  remedy  for  the  dan- 
gers we  fear  from  extreme 
specialization,  and  the  re- 
sult is  a  balance  which  at 
once  widens  and  cements 
the  foundations  of  the  so- 
cial order. 

The  most  advanced 
groups  of  scientific  think- 
ers, becoming  conscious  of 
their  aloofness  from  common  life,  recognize  in  their  specialty  a  bond 
of  union.  Associates  and  disciples,  even  rivals,  are  bound  to- 
gether by  this  tie.  and  thus  by  voluntary  association  various  scien- 
tific bodies  are  formed.  The  first  effect  of  this  closer  knitting  of 
human  bonds  among  advanced  tliinkers  is,  perhaps,  to  revive  their 
social  sympiithies.  Local,  national  and  international  congresses 
are  held.  Friendships  are  foi-med.  Wives  and  families  attend  and 
become  acquainted.  The  younger  men,  in  the  attitude  of  disciple- 
ship,  establish  personal  relations  with  their  elders.  But  on  the  other 
hand  this  type  of  voluntary  association  is  not  wholly  beneficial,  for 
the  effect  is  also  to  accentuate  the  prejudices  of  the  most  advanced 
specialists  against  common  men  and  the  common  way  of  life.  The 
lone  specialist,  cut  oft"  by  liis  very  learning  from  the  sympathy  of 
mankind,  is  a  pathetic  figure.  He  may  return  upon  the  critics,  who 
characterize  him  as  "dried  up,"  scorn  for  scorn  and  look  for  his 
reward  to  future  generations,  but  he  is  in  some  need  of  human 
companionship.  With  a  group  of  associated  specialists  the  case  is 
otherwise.  They  derive  mutual  strength  from  union  and  it  seems 
unfortunately  too  true  that  the  attitude  of  the  most  advanced  thinkers, 
the  men  who  just  now  are  determining  the  ideals  of  the  race,  is  largely 
disdainful  of  common  men  and  skeptical  as  to  the  idea  of  true  dernoc- 
racy.  This  is  not  merely  a  figure  of  speech.  The  editor  of  a  great 
modern  encyclopedia  reports  to  the  writer  that  scientific  experts,  as 
a  rule,  not  only  disdain  to  "write  down"  to  the  masses  the  results 

28 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF   SPECIALIZATION 

of  their  investigations,  but  appear,  when  they  condescend  to  the  attempt 
to  do  so,  to  be  incapable  of  making  themselves  understood  by  com- 
mon men.  The  prejudice  of  the  common  mind  against  specialists 
and  the  corresponding  embittered  hauteur  of  advanced  thinkers 
toward  the  masses  throw  into  strong  relief  the  extremes  of  the  gulf 
by  which  society  threatens  to  become  divided. 

FORTUNATELY,  the  principle  of  voluntary  association  is 
rapidlv  producing  a  new  type  of  social  institution  from  which 
there  seems  to  be  abundant  promise.  This  is  the  voluntary 
association  for  social  service,  of  which  the  Society  for  the  Prevention 
of  Tuberculosis  may  be  taken  as  a  type.  Associations  of  this  sort 
are  composed  of  two  classes  of  persons,  shading  gradually  into  one 
another;  and,  in  opposite  directions,  merging  into  the  mass  of  com- 
mon men  upon  the  one  hand  and  into  the  scientific  associations  upon 
the  other.  One  new  and  most  interesting  type  is  the  modern  social 
worker,  the  man  (or  woman)  who  perhaps  knows  very  little  more 
about  technical  aspects  of  the  prevention  of  tuberculosis  than  does 
the  common  man;  but  who  sees  the  need  and  possesses  the  social 
sympathies,  the  tact  and  insight  needful  to  disclose  the  remedy  to 
those  who  are  afflicted.  The  opposite  type  is,  of  course,  the  trained 
medical  man  or  the  social  worker.  He  has  advanced  in  the  way  of 
specialization  so  far  as  to  meet  upon  a  footing  of  discipleship,  if  not 
of  equality,  the  leaders  in  medical  or  other  research  in  a  given  direc- 
tion. But  he  has  now  faced  about  and  is  directing  his  energies 
toward  conveving;  to  the  common  mind  the  needful  accession  of 
knowledge  that  will  enable  humanity  in  the  mass  to  effect  cures  and 
avoid  contagion.  Such  an  institution  as  the  New  York  School  of 
Philanthropy,  where  the  humblest  social  worker  may  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  most  advanced  philanthropic  thought  and  training, 
stands  as  a  milestone  of  human  progress.  Perhaps  no  more  signifi- 
cant institution  exists  today. 

The  name  of  these  voluntary  associations,  which  extend  the  left 
hand,  nearest  the  heart,  to  the  common  man,  and  the  right  hand  of 
intellectual  fellowship  to  the  most  advanced  scientific  thinker,  is 
legion.  There  is  perhaps  a  tendency  to  overdo  the  remedy  and  to 
create  unwisely  a  multiplicity  of  associations.  Indeed  we  are  still 
on  the  backward  track  from  extx'eme  specializing  and  this  princij)le 
has  not  yet  lost  its  hold  upon  us.  The  very  associations  that  are 
counteracting  the  evils  of  too  much  specialization  are  themselves 
specializing.  Indeed,  along  each  of  the  radial  lines  of  scientific  in- 
vestigation a  voluntary  association  is  springing  up,  valuable  in  itself, 

29 


THE  DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION 

but  mischievous  in  so  far  as  it  is  indifferent  or  even  detrimental  to 
other  efforts. 

Perhaps  the  best  illustration  of  the  danger  of  over-specialization, 
even  in  efforts  that  are  themselves  social  and  synthetic  in  their  tend- 
encies, may  be  found  in  the  difRculties  inevitably  met  in  small  towns 
and  \'illages  in  establishing  branches  of  the  various  national  organiza- 
tions. There  are  in  a  given  village  but  few  persons  of  sufficent  initia- 
tive, courage  and  enthusiasm  to  inaugurate  a  campaign  of  any  kind. 
Let  us  say  that  there  are  three.  One  chances  to  become  interested 
in  the  movement  against  Child  Labor,  another  in  that  for  the  preven- 
tion of  Tuberculosis,  and  the  third  specializes  against  Cruelty  to  Ani- 
mals. Each  attempts  to  organize  locally.  Each  appeals  to  the 
public  for  funds  to  support  the  respective  national  organizations.  The 
obvious  result  is  unwise  duplication  of  machinery,  inadequate  organ- 
ization and  sup])ort,  temporary  and  sporadic  effort.  What  is  wanted 
in  every  village  and  hamlet  is  a  federated  local  body  that  shall  repre- 
sent and  keep  in  touch  with  every  worthy  national  movement. 

THE  next  step  obviously  is  an  ultimate  association  of  associations, 
— a  federation  or  merger  of  all  those  who,  having  pursued  the 
path  of  specialization  until  they  felt  the  tug  of  social  sympathy, 
have  faced  about  and  are  now  seeking,  from  the  so-called  "sociologi- 
cal point  of  view"  and  in  the  new  spirit  of  so-called  "philanthropy," 
to  bring  back  to  common  men  the  gold  and  gems  and  other  merchan- 
dise that  the  pioneers  have  unearthed  in  newly  discovei'ed  fields  of 
learning.  To  make  the  whole  movement  concrete  and  give  it  a 
visual  image  in  the  imagination,  let  us  assume  the  possibility  that 
every  national  or  international  voluntary  association,  either  for  the 
advancement  of  learning  or  the  betterment  of  human  life,  could  be 
housed  under  a  single  roof  in  New  York  City,  or  otherwise.  Let  us 
suppose  further  that  the  official  heads  of  these  various  associations 
should  form  a  democratic  body  somewhat  analogous  in  influence 
to  the  Royal  Society  of  Great  Britain,  or  the  Academy  of  France,  with 
an  executive  head  and  adequate  organization.  Thus  if  every  voluntary 
association  of  sincere  purpose  and  substantial  merit  would  find  its 
efforts  focused  upon  a  single  point,  would  not  the  effect  be  to  accom- 
plish in  the  largest  fashion  the  good  results  that  have  already  ac- 
crued, in  the  special  field  of  charities,  through  the  Charity  Organi- 
zation of  New  York,  in  the  efforts  of  the  Twentieth  Century  Club 
of  Boston,  and  otherwise  ?  The  conception  appeals  to  the  imagina- 
tion and  who  shall  say  that  it  is  not  within  the  possibilities  of  coming 
years .'' 

30 


THE   DISADVANTAGES  OF  SPECIALIZATION 

The  existence  of  such  an  institution  would,  of  course,  be  instantly 
made  known  by  the  periodical  press  throughout  the  rank  and  file 
of  democracy.  Once  admit  the  thought  that  any  person  in  need  of 
guidance  how  to  aid  liis  fellow  man  could,  by  addressing  a  letter  to  a 
single  individual, — the  executive  head  of  the  ultimate  association 
of  associations, — obtain  the  best  available  knowledge  and  most 
adequate  possible  cooperation,  and  one  is  at  the  brink  of  a  new  re- 
\^val  of  the  principle  of  democracy  greater  than  the  world  has  ever 
seen.  The  conception  is  perfectly  simple.  The  task  of  society, 
broadly  speaking,  is  to  transmit  to  the  rising  generation  with  usufruct 
its  heritage  from  the  fathers.  The  principle  of  specialization  con- 
templates dividing  individuals,  families  and  communities  along  lines 
of  special  interests  and  transmitting  to  each  piecemeal  a  fraction  of 
the  race  knowledge. 

WHAT  is  wanted  is  a  new  type  of  institution  and  a  new  educa- 
tional propaganda  which  will  contemplate  nothing  less  than 
focusing  upon  the  individual  the  entire  race  knowledge  in 
its  adaptation  to  the  common  life.  And  this  must  be  done,  not  by 
taking  the  boy  or  girl  away  from  the  family,  still  less  by  alluring 
visions  of  inaccessible  rewards  and  distant  distinctions, — but  by 
dignifying  the  common  life.  What  our  boys  and  girls  want  is  to  learn 
how  to  be  happy  at  home;  how  to  make  the  old  farm  pay;  to  overcome 
the  loneliness  and  the  inertia  of  rural  life;  to  conquer  disease,  vice 
and  ignorance, — not  to  run  away  from  them;  to  transform  housework 
into  domestic  economy;  to  make  social  life  educational,  home  life 
artistic.  The  waters  of  learning,  so  long  dammed  into  reservoirs, 
to  be  sluiced  off  through  the  exclusive  mill-wheels  of  the  college  and 
university  system,  must  be  tapped  and  led  abroad  to  irrigate  the  farms 
and  the  gardens  of  common  men.  The  university  of  the  peojjle, 
which  will  mean  that  men  can  get  all  that  is  valuable  of  the  higher 
learning  at  their  own  firesides  and  at  intervals  in  the  occupations 
of  common  life,  can  no  longer  be  regarded  as  an  impossibility.  It 
may  be  said,  with  safety,  that  it  is  at  hand.  Some  men  will  continue 
to  specialize.  Others  will  go  abroad  to  bring  home  again  the  results 
of  their  labors.  But  the  dawn  is  at  hand  of  a  renascence  of  Democ- 
racy, when  the  life  of  the  farm,  of  the  work-bench  and  of  domestic 
labor  will  be  regarded  as  the  ideal  life,  because  the  individual  worker, 
without  lea\ang  his  natural  environment,  will  be  admitted  to  a  full 
share  in  the  total  enlightenment  of  the  race. 

.31 


THE  PLACE  OF  PHOTOGRAPHY  AMONG 
THE  ARTS:  ITS  PROGRESS  AS  REVEALED 
IN  THE  RECENT  INTERNATIONAL  EXHIBI- 
TION: BY  GILES  EDGERTON 

HOTOGRAPHY,  active,  vivid,  useful,  new.  Western, 
has  up  to  the  present  had  a  hard  time  getting  "into 
society" — as  represented  by  the  so-called  fine  arts. 
These  very  exclusive  arts — fine  perhaps  because  use- 
less, with  high  barriers  shutting  out  the  vulgar  indus- 
trial arts — have  since  the  first  success  of  the  Photo- 
Secession  school  regarded  the  artist-photographer  as 
a  bold  climber,  a  pretentious  parvenu,  all  very  well  in  his  proper  place 
as  a  mechanic  or  mere  scientist,  but  not  to  be  allowed  the  slightest 
opening  wedge  of  admission  among  the  fine,  the  creative  arts,  those 
who  claim  as  their  ancestors  imagination  and  spiritual  insight.  Into 
this  aristocracy  of  achievement  photography  was  not  to  be  admitted 
solelv  because  of  that  low  associate,  that  mere  workman,  the  camera. 
The  chisel  and  brush  and  pen  held  back  in  scorn  at  the  idea  of  com- 
panionship with  anything  so  utilitarian  as  a  plate  or  a  film. 

In  England,  Germany,  France,  these  boundaries  in  art  were  for 
years  accepted  without  cjuestion  and  with  the  humility  proper  in 
countries  where  class  distinctions  rule  all  phases  of  expressive  existence. 
But  America  revolted.  The  younger  photographers  of  this  country 
went  about  their  work  quietly,  saying  nothing  at  all  about  art,  in  no 
wise  seeking  to  imitate  the  ways  of  the  painters,  asking  nothing  and 
pretending  nothing,  but  working  constantly  with  imagination,  skill, 
patience,  to  prove  their  belief  that  the  camera  could  be  made  as 
fluent  and  subtle  a  medium  of  expression  as  brush  and  paint  or  chisel 
and  stone.  This  spirit  has  naturally  resulted  in  such  extraordinaiy 
progress  that  others  besides  the  photographers  are  beginning  to  ask, 
"What  of  photography  as  an  art?  How  is  such  achievement  to  be 
ranked  ?"  "  What  is  the  work  displayed  in  the  International  Exhibit 
of  Pictorial  Photography  recently  held  in  New  York  at  the  National 
Arts  Club  if  we  hold  back  the  word  art  in  connection  with  it  ?  "  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  during  the  exhibit  one  frequently  heard  the  point  of 
view  expressed  that  not  only  had  photography  grown  to  be  recognized 
as  one  of  the  arts  but,  because  of  the  quahty  of  its  development, 
essentially  an  art  closely  and  intimately  related  to  American  civihza- 
tion — revealing  as  it  does  imagination,  vividness,  sincerity,  audacity, 
the  pioneer  spirit,  an  appreciation  of  science — all  characteristics 
which  seem  native  to  the  America  of  this  century. 

Of  course,  no  one  dreams  of  contending  that  photography  origi- 


THE  PLACE   OF  PHOTOGRAPHY 

nated  in  America  or  that  some  isolated  examples  of  very  good  early 
work  have  not  been  produced  in  other  countries.  The  proposition 
which  we  wish  to  make  is  solely  that  the  big,  intelligent  vital  work 
wliich  has  hfted  photography  into  a  new  realm  of  action  and  at  least 
out  into  the  discussion  of  the  arts,  had  birth  in  America.  The  idea 
of  "modern  photography"  first  appeared  in  America  some  twenty- 
five  years  ago.  when  Alfred  Stieglitz  and  a  few  other  workers  got 
together  to  test  their  power  over  the  camera.  Seven  years  ago  the 
work  of  these  men  and  women  crystallized  in  the  Photo-Secession 
Club,  which  is  now  recognized  as  possibly  the  most  active  organiza- 
tion for  modern  photography  in  existence,  although  the  Linked  Ring 
of  London  and  the  Kleeblatt  of  Vienna  are  associations  which  are 
doing  vigorous  work  for  a  more  final  development  of  the  "art." 
But  one  feels  in  the  work  exclusively  Continental  that  the  attitude 
has  been  rather  to  prove  how  nearly  like  painting  it  was  possible  to 
make  photography,  whereas  the  purpose  of  the  Photo-Secession 
Club  and  the  American  photographers  has  been  rather  to  develop 
the  "  art"  along  its  own  fines,  not  to  make  of  it  near-painting  or  near- 
etching,  but  just  simply  photography  with  every  possibility  of  de- 
velopment wliich  could  be  discovered  by  the  help  of  sunlight,  lens 
and  film.  These  modern  American  photographers  are  not  working 
with  the  camera  because  they  are  poor  painters  or  because  they  want 
to  be  painters,  but  because  the  thing  they  seek  in  life,  the  beauty  they 
behold,  they  can  best  express  through  this  particular  medium;  in 
fact,  the  medium  to  them  seems  the  best  possible  means  of  expression 
they  can  find.  No  subject  is  too  unusual,  too  subtle  for  their  skill, 
no  quality  of  atmosphere  or  temperament  too  elusive  for  them  to  seek 
to  fix  it  permanently  for  the  glory  of  photography.  Wheresoever 
the  painter,  the  sculptor,  has  strayed  for  inspiration,  these  fields  they 
are  invading.  They  seek  to  plumb  the  depth  of  the  human  soul,  to 
penetrate  deep  into  the  psychological  mysteries  which  Nature  holds 
veiled  from  the  mere  intruder;  day-dawn  and  twilight,  sunhght  and 
mist,  a  child's  tenderness,  a  mother's  yearning  passion,  the  essence 
of  that  final  last  intangible  relationship  between  sentient  life  and 
Nature,  all  these  things  they  question  and  study  and  strive  to  express 
according  to  their  individual  interest  and  understanding. 

INSTEAD  of  struggling  to  tear  down  the  Umitations  established 
for  them  by  the  traditions  of  the  older  arts,  they  soon  forgot  that 
there  were  any  limitations.  As  they  worked  they  ceased  to  be 
conscious  of  anything  that  could  hold  the  camera  back  from  excur- 
sions out  in  the'land  of  poets  and  philosophers.  And  the  force  back 
of  all  this  American  movement  in  photography  was  the  awakened 

37 


THE   PLACE   OF  PHOTOGRAPHY 

soul  of  a  new  nation  seeking  a  new  means  of  expression,  and  finding 
it  along  lines  sympathetic  to  the  nation's  purpose  and  growth.  To 
evolve  a  new  art  or  a  new  expression  through  art,  is  that  too  stupen- 
dous a  task  for  the  people  in  process  of  evolving  a  new  civilization,-— 
more  particularly  when  the  medium  of  expression  seems  so  utterly  in 
harmony  with  the  new  kind  of  civilization  ? 

What  has  been  achieved  in  the  evolution  of  this  "art"  was  shown 
most  convincingly  at  the  recent  photoo;raphic  exhibition.  The  ex- 
hibit as  a  whole  was  black  and  white,  although  some  very  interesting 
color  photography  was  shown,  but  wth  the  exception  of  the  lack  of 
color  in  the  bulk  of  the  photographs,  it  would  perplex  one  to  say  just 
what  qualities  photography  lacks  which  we  characterize  as  essential 
in  the  graphic  arts.  What  is  it,  then,  that  we  insist  upon  in  painting 
and  sculpture.^  W^hat  more  than  composition,  technique,  light,  the 
vision  of  beauty  in  existing  conditions  and  the  expression  of  indi\'id- 
uality  through  the  medium  used  ?  For  instance,  we  do  not  ask  color 
of  tlie  sculptor,  or  form  in  the  mass  of  the  painter.  Each  art  finds 
acceptance  with  its  own  limitations  by  the  public.  And  in  photog- 
raphy the  characteristics  we  find,  quite  apart  from  the  mechanical 
process,  are  composition,  technique,  in  the  most  real  sense  of  the 
word,  light,  in  the  most  extraordinary  and  subtle  variation  according 
to  the  imagination  of  the  photographer,  the  capture  of  a  special 
beauty  perhaps  impossible  to  either  painter  or  sculptor,  and  as  wide 
a  range  of  expression  for  personal  individuahty  and  national  char- 
acteristic as  the  artist  is  great  enough  to  set  free.  The  photographers, 
men  like  SLeichen,  Stieglitz,  White,  women  like  Gertrude  Kasebier, 
Alice  Boughton,  Annie  Brigman,  are  each  one  taking  part  in  the 
artists'  universal  search  for  beauty,  to  hold  it  captive  in  their  own 
way,  to  separate  it  from  the  beauty  all  the  rest  of  the  world  sees  by 
expressing  it  through  their  own  personality.  An  artist  is  great  as  his 
range  of  beauty  vision  is  wide,  and  is  greatest  as  his  vision  is  without 
boundaries  and  his  power  of  expression  adequate  to  his  apprehension 
of  beauty. 

But  why  specialize  in  art  ?  ^^^ly  should  the  painter  of  portraits 
ignore  the  vague  gray  beauty  of  evening  mists,  the  portrayer  of  sun- 
sets shut  out  the  glow  of  soul  to  be  found  in  the  human  face  ?  Nature 
reveals  the  same  beauty  to  all,  musician,  painter,  poet,  according  to 
his  capacity;  she  finds  no  class  distinction  in  art.  She  fears  no  mis- 
representation because  her  great  gift  of  sunlight  is  permitted  to  help 
work  the  magic  of  rendering  permanent  some  phase  of  her  glory. 
For  every  man  there  is  a  final  last  perfection  in  Nature  if  he  has 
the  vision  and  the  power.     Nature  has  no  reserves  of  her  charm;  she 

38 


THE  PLACE   OF  PHOTOGRAPHY 

does  not  portion  it  out,  one  kind  and  degree  for  one  group  of  workers 
and  a  limitation  for  the  others. 

AT  THE  International  Exhibit  of  Photography  it  was  the  pur- 
pose not  only  to  show  what  had  been  accomplished  in  every 
land,  but  also  the  relation  of  tliis  accomphshment,  the  in- 
dividual variation,  yet  the  presentation  of  type.  There  was  the 
complete  history  of  the  art  pictorially  shown,  including  the  most 
interesting  achievement  of  England,  France,  Germany,  Austria  and 
America.  It  gives  one  somewhat  a  sense  of  astonishment  to  realize 
how  absolutely  the  national  characteristics  of  a  people  are  shown  in 
the  photography  of  that  people,  just  as  they  are  in  the  graphic  arts, 
in  music,  in  literature.  It  was  possible  at  this  exhibit  to  go  from 
one  section  to  another  and  without  previous  knowledge  of  the  pictures 
to  place  them  nationally.  There  was  in  the  German  photographs 
the  same  expression  of  the  New  Art  that  was  manifest  at  the  German 
Loan  Exhibit  at  the  Metropohtan  Museum;  in  the  French  section 
there  was  the  real  love  of  the  picturesque  in  landscape,  the  interesting 
management  of  Plein  Air  effects,  and  again  the  artificial  gaiety  and 
the  false  conception  of  what  is  essentially  beautiful  in  face  and  figure. 
The  Viennese  photography,  like  the  Viennese  people,  was  rather 
confusingly  cosmopolitan,  extraordinarily  clever,  with  the  greatest 
perfection  of  detail  and  a  distinct  knowledge  of  the  beauty  of  simple 
things,  yet  shown  in  the  most  formal  fashion.  England,  although 
achieving  the  earliest  distinctively  significant  photography,  has 
progressed  more  slowly,  more  reticently,  until  within  the  last  year 
or  two,  and  in  this  later  work  the  influence  of  American  photography 
is  distinctly  shown.  But  throughout  the  exhibit  there  was  the  in- 
dividuahty  of  the  photographer,  the  racial  quality  of  the  nation  dis- 
played, as  inevitable  as  in  facial  expression  or  an  accent.  It  had  as 
little  to  do  with  the  mere  mechanical  contrivance  as  though  shown 
on  canvas  or  in  marble.  Of  the  American  work  we  have  already 
spoken.  Its  qualities  of  enthusiasm,  courage,  perseverance,  vi\dd 
imagination  and  the  desire  to  make  use  of  every  scientific  appliance 
for  the  furtherance  of  the  expression  of  beauty  are  most  character- 
istically American  and  most  important  in  the  development  of  photog- 
raphy both  in  this  country  and  in  others. 

The  most  interesting  early  expression  of  what  is  called  modern 
photography ;— that  is,  the  art  suggesting  imagination  and  individ- 
uality— is  on  record  in  England,  the  work  of  David  O.  Hill.  For- 
tunately for  the  history  of  photography  some  negatives  of  Mr.  Hill's 
made  in  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-three  have  been  preserved. 
Prints  from  these  negatives  were  executed  by  Mr.  Coburn  and  dis- 

39 


THE  PLACE   OF  PHOTOGRAPHY 

played  at  tliis  exliibition.  The  work  possesses  a  most  interesting 
human  quaUty,  showing  a  very  definite  appreciation  of  composition 
and  a  knowledge  of  the  values  of  the  right  placing  of  light. 

Another  early  English  photographer  whose  work  is  of  marked 
significance,  yet  without  apparently  in  any  way  influencing  the  progress 
of  the  art,  was  Mrs.  Julia  Cameron,  who  lived  and  worked  at  the 
time  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  artists,  many  of  whom  were  her  friends 
and  the  influence  of  whose  work  is  most  manifest  in  her  prints.  One 
also  recognized  some  very  interesting  work  by  a  more  modern  English- 
man, Craig  J.  Annan.  There  was  rare  beauty  in  his  photograph 
called  "Lombardy  Ploughing  Team"  and  in  the  portrait,  "Janet 
Burnett."  This  work  was  in  a  more  modern  style  and  suggested  a 
knowledge  of  American  achievement  along  these  lines. 

OF  THE  American  work  which  really  deserves  mention  in  such 
an  article  as  this  there  would  be  more  than  enough  to  fill  all 
the  pages.  First  of  all,  when  have  the  lovers  of  photography 
seen  anything  that  could  compare  to  the  exhibit  by  Eduard  Steichen, 
— such  flexibility  and  variation  of  method,  such  imagination,  such 
spiritual  insight  into  the  last  poetical  beauty  of  Nature  and  such 
mastery  of  hght  and  shade!  Again,  take  the  work  of  Clarence  White. 
The  handhng  of  light  which  this  artist  shows  in  photography  would 
be  exceptional  in  the  kind  of  painting  which  we  most  like  to  see. 
Mr.  White's  work  is  full  of  a  dehcacy  of  fancy,  which  of  course, 
means  poetry,  or  at  least  the  equivalent  insight.  Alfred  Stieglitz' 
photographs,  especially  of  New  York  life,  the  "Snow  Scene"  and 
the  "Railroad  Yard,"  place  his  photography  among  the  very  best 
in  the  exhibition,  and  it  is  interesting  to  remember  that  some  of  his 
work,  some  of  the  most  significant  of  it  even,  extends  back  as  far  as 
eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-two,  when  such  photography  was  rare 
in  any  country.  While  Mr.  Stieglitz  is  in  mind,  it  is  only  just 
to  mention  how  widely  he  contributed  to  the  success  of  this  ex- 
hibition. He  not  only  led  up  to  the  possibility  of  it  by  the  series 
of  exhibits  at  his  own  galleries,  the  Photo-Secession;  but  loaned,  as 
I  understand  it,  from  his  rare  private  collection,  many  of  the 
pictures  exhibited,  so  complete  an  exposition  being  impossible  with- 
out his  cooperation  and  interest  in  photography  extending  back 
for  years.  I  understand  also  that  the  inception  of  the  idea  of  this 
International  Exhibit  was  J.  Nilsen  Laurvik's.  In  the  final  arrange- 
ment and  hanging  of  the  photographs  he  was  assisted  by  Alfred 
StiegUtz,  Alvin  Langdon  Coburn,  George  H.  Seeley,  Paul  B.  Havi- 
land  and  Clarence  vNTiite,  having  also  the  artistic  aid  of  Frederick 
S.  Lamb,  chairman  of  the  Art  Committee  of  the  National  Arts  Club. 

40 


lOHX    RlSKl.V:    FROM    A    PHOTOGRAPH    TAKEN    ABOUT 
18^3    I)V    LlAVll)   OCTAVIUS    HILL,   ENGLAND. 


FALAISE  :  KKOM  A  PHOTOGRAPH  BY  ROBERT 
DKMACHY,  WHU  U  IS  KIU'RESENTATIVE  OF  THE 
MOllERN     rKKNlH     sriliiill,. 


■*m- 


WHITE  GRAPES  :  BY  BARON  A.  UE 
MEYER,  THE  BEST  KNOWN  OF  THli 
VIENNESE    PHOTOGRAPHERS. 


By  permission   of   the    Photo-Secession. 


CADIZ     :     KHOM     A     riUJJOCiRAI'H 
liV     AI.VIN    LANGUON    COBUKN. 


Cofyright.   liyx) 


LATKST    I'dRIKAlr    OF    RUDYAW)    KITLING,    FROM 
A     IMKlKK.UAl'll     IIV     SIDNEY    CARTER. 


WITHOUT 

But  to  return  to  the  photographs  of  American  contributors,  we 
wish  especially  to  speak  of  the  seven  pictures  shown  by  Gertrude 
Kasebier,  reveaUng  as  they  did  her  wide  human  range  of  interest 
and  her  extraordinary  skill  as  an  artist  in  photography.  Among 
those  shown  the  "Rodin,"  the  "Heritage  of  Motherhood,"  and 
"The  Red  Man"  have  already  appeared  in  The  Cuaftsman  in  an 
article  about  Mrs.  Kiisebier's  work,  pubhshed  in  April,  nineteen 
hundred  and  seven.  Perhaps  it  is  also  well  to  mention  here  that 
an  illustrated  article  about  Mr.  White's  work  appeared  in  January, 
nineteen  hundred  and  six,  on  Mr.  Seeley's  work  in  December,  nine- 
teen hundred  and  seven,  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  the  first  article 
published  about  Mrs.  Brigman  appeared  in  The  Craftsman  for 
September,  nineteen  hundred  and  seven.  The  fact  that  articles  on 
the  work  of  these  photographers  have  already  been  published  and  illus- 
trated in  The  Craftsman  accounts  in  part  for  the  reproduction  of 
their  work  not  appearing  in  the  present  article.  It  has  been  necessary 
for  us  to  divide  our  few  pages  of  illustration  between  five  nations. 
The  tw'o  pages  which  we  could  use  for  American  reproduction  it 
seemed  best  to  give  to  the  w^ork  of  artists  newer  to  the  magazine.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  to  do  justice  to  all  the  work  in  the  American  section 
of  this  International  Exhibit,  it  would  be  necessary  to  use  every 
picture  page  in  this  issue  of  The  Craftsman.  For  we  should  like 
to  publish  another  collection  of  Mrs.  Brigman's  work,  "The  Bubble," 
"The  Echo,"  "The  Source."  From  the  collection  of  photographs 
of  Alice  Boughton  it  would  be  diflScult  to  select.  A  better  portrait 
of  Maxim  Gorky  the  writer  has  never  seen.  As  for  her  photo- 
graph "The  Seasons,"  it  is  of  rare  beauty  in  composition,  texture 
and  handling  of  light.  Those  who  made  a  special  study  of  the  color 
work  at  this  exhibition  will  have  a  fresh  conception  of  the  extraordi- 
nary beauty  and  interest  possible  in  this  branch  of  photography. 


A 


WITHOUT 

GAINST  the  twilight  gate  of  death 
Hope  beats  her  pallid  wings  in  vain; 
The  black  ni<>ht  settles  and  the  rain 


Joins  warnings  with  the  wind's  harsh  breath. 

William  Northrop  Morse. 


43 


HOW  MEDIAEVAL  CRAFTSMEN  CREATED 
BEAUTY  BY  MEETING  THE  CONSTRUCTIVE 
PROBLEMS  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE: 
BY  ERNEST  A.  BATCHELDER 

"Mankind  was  never  so  happily  inspired  as  when  it  made  a  cathedral" 

— Stevenson. 

IT  IS  one  thing  to  achieve  beauty  on  a  basis  of  logical 
construction ;  quite  another  thing  to  make  a  studied 
display  of  structural  features  as  the  aim  and  end  of  a 
beautiful  design.  The  modern  designer  frequently 
assumes  too  large  a  measure  of  virtue  in  the  emphasis 
of  construction.  Distinction  is  given  to  forms  which 
may  well  be  as  unobtrusive  as  is  the  skeleton  in  the 
human  figure;  we  know  it  is  there;  but  it  is  only  a  necessary  basis 
for  the  beauty  that  envelopes  it.  With  the  idea  that  there  is  a  pecuUar 
merit  attached  to  constructive  elements,  ponderous  hinges,  some- 
times useful,  often  useless,  are  fastened  to  the  exteriors  of  doors; 
bolt  heads  and  rivets  are  multipUed,  frequently  faked ;  a  tenon  with 
its  key  becomes  a  special  hobby;  huge  cobblestone  piers,  designed 
to  impress  us  with  a  sense  of  supported  burdens  sometimes  fall  from 
their  own  weight.  It  is  true  that  the  past  teaches  us  that  a  sound 
logical  construction  was  one  of  the  bases  of  fine  craftsmanship;  but 
it  was  only  one  of  the  factors  that  contributed  to  the  beauty  of  the 
whole. 

There  is,  for  example,  no  finer  piece  of  constructive  work,  of 
joinery  pure  and  simple,  than  the  choir  stalls  of  Amiens  Cathedral. 
Yet  it  certainly  is  not  of  carpenter's  work  that  we  think  first  when 
we  stand  before  those  stalls.  The  technical  questions  involved  in 
construction  do  not  intrude  upon  our  attention;  they  are  subordinated 
to  higher  claims  for  beauty  which  the  craftsmen  sought  to  achieve. 
We  know  that  during  the' many  years  given  to  the  erection  of  the 
stalls  the  workers  must  have  been  intimately  concerned  with  and 
keenly  interested  in  the  structural  problems  that  arose;  but  it  was 
all  a  means  to  an  end,  not  an  end  sufficient  in  itself.  A  test  of  the 
beauty  must  be  sought  in  the  composition  of  the  whole  and  the  parts, 
and  the  interpretation  which  the  craftsmen  gave  to  the  life  and 
thought  of  their  time.  We  are  first  interested  in  the  unity  of  the 
whole  scheme,  in  its  lines,  forms  and  proportions;  we  note  how  con- 
sistent it  is  with  its  environment,  its  pinnacles  reaching  upward  with 
the  piers  that  support  the  vaults  so  high  above.  We  then  pass  to  the 
details  and  find  that  they  rejicat  the  pointed  arches  and  traceried 
windows,  with  greater  enrichment,  perhaps,  as  becomes  a  translation 
of  those  forms  into  wood.     'Jlien  we  note  the  subtle  charm  of  the 

44 


BEAUTY  THROUGH  RIGHT  CONSTRUCTION 

carving,  the  numerous  figures,  what  they  are  doing  and  what  message 
they  are  intended  to  convey,  how  clearly  they  reflect  the  hfe  that  moved 
about  the  church,  in  and  out  of  its  porches;  we  may  know  just  what 
kind  of  people  they  were,  their  ideals  and  how  they  dressed.  And 
then,  if  our  interest  is  deep  enough,  we  shall  seek  to  know  how  it  was 
done,  by  what  consummate  skill  of  craftsmanship  the  materials  were 
shaped ;  each  mark  of  the  tool  brings  us  close  to  the  workers ;  we  may 
find  ourselves  planning  and  building  with  them;  their  problems  be- 
come our  problems.  If  our  imagination  holds  true  the  centuries  are 
readily  slipped  aside  and  we  may  find  ourselves  back  there  in  a  litter 
of  sha\angs,  with  the  smell  of  freshly  wrought  wood  in  the  air,  in  close 
communion  with  those  same  people  who  peer  at  us  in  quaint  wooden 
imagery  from  the  stalls  today  just  as  they  were  caught  in  the  living 
form  in  the  long  ago. 

THERE  are  three  factors  that  combine  to  give  unique  character 
to  jNIediaeval  work.  They  may  be  briefly  summarized  as 
follows :  First, — an  intimate  knowledge  of  tools,  materials  and 
constructive  problems ;  a  frank  acceptance  of  all  functional  demands ; 
second, — an  intuitive  feeling  for  good  composition,  proportions,  the 
relation  of  hues  and  masses;  third, — the  personality  of  the  worker, 
the  fact  that  he  had  something  to  say  that  was  worth  while  and  which 
reflected  so  clearly  the  life  and  thought  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived 
and  worked.  It  is  in  the  nice  adjustment  of  these  three  factors  that 
we  find  the  best  achievements.  There  are  few  buildings  more  noble 
than  Notre  Dame,  of  Paris,  even  though  its  builders  left  it  incomplete, 
without  its  dominant  spires.  To  follow  the  development  of  its  con- 
struction, to  trace  its  various  elements  back  through  a  long  Une  of 
earlier  churches,  to  study  the  way  in  which  materials  were  employed 
to  the  utmost  advantage; — these  questions,  while  they  take  us  close 
to  the  workers,  do  not,  of  course,  explain  the  beauty  of  the  product. 
We  must  turn  to  the  two  other  factors  mentioned  in  our  summary. 
The  Mediaeval  craftsman  was  brought  up  on  the  job.  To  become  a 
master  he  must  first  become  a  good  workman,  must  uphold  the  tradi- 
tions of  his  craft,  the  standards  of  his  guild.  Logical  construction 
was  in  the  line  of  least  resistance.  There  was  no  other  path  open  to 
the  mastership  than  to  begin  at  the  bottom  of  a  trade  and  work  up- 
ward. It  was  the  use  that  a  man  made  of  his  technical  skill  that 
counted.  A  product  will  always  rise  to  the  level  of  the  worker, — 
never  higher.  A  man  does  not  draw  music  from  a  violin;  he 
puts  music  into  it.  The  builders  of  Notre  Dame  did  not  create 
beauty  from  stone  or  from  constructive  elements;  they  put  beauty 
into  those  things.     That  is  to  say,  the  beauty  was  within  the  men  else 

45 


BEAUTY  THROUGH   RIGHT  CONSTRUCTION 

it  never  would  have  appeared  in  their  work.  To  create  fine  work 
is  to  give  definite  form  to  fine  ideas. 

The  eminent  French  architect  Gaudet  has  prepared  in  one  of  his 
vohimes  two  plates  that  ofter  an  instructive  comparison.  In  one 
plate  is  a  section  from  a  Gothic  cathedral  with  the  flying  buttress 
system  devised  by  its  builders;  in  the  other  the  same  cathedral  with 
a  buttress  system  planned  in  accordance  with  modern  engineering 
practice,  every  thrust  and  counter  thrust  carefully  plotted  on  paper 
with  an  eye  to  the  economy  of  materials.  One  sees  that  if  technical 
matters  alone  had  furnished  the  clue  for  the  builders  they  never 
would  have  brought  into  being  such  a  church  as  Notre  Dame  or 
Amiens.  They  might  have  hastened  by  several  centuries  the  engi- 
neering feats  of  today  and  made  building  a  science  rather  than  an  art ; 
but  they  never  would  have  developed  that  architecture  which  we 
know  as  Gothic.  It  was  Gothic  thought  that  gave  life  to  the  work 
of  their  hands.  The  cathedral  enclosed  an  idea.  It  was  the  expression 
of  a  thought  that  was  close  to  the  lives  of  the  people.  The  form  in 
which  the  thought  was  expressed  may  be  traced  back  to  the  materials 
at  hand,  to  the  practical  skill  of  the  builders;  their  feeling  for  good 
composition  led  them  to  a  beautiful  adjustment  of  those  forms;  but 
it  was  the  thought  that  furnished  the  motive  power  which  made  the 
thing  go,  which  gave  it  life,  force,  character. 

Leaving  the  construction  entirely  aside  for  the  moment  one  may 
follow  the  beginnings,  the  height  and  the  decadence  of  the  cathedral 
builders  from  the  composition  point  of  view  alone.  Compare  then 
such  churches  as  the  Abbaye  aux  Hommes  of  Caen,  Notre  Dame 
of  Paris  and  Saint  Maclou  of  Rouen.  The  very  simpHcity  of  the 
scheme  in  the  first  becomes  more  satisfjing  as  one  makes  closer 
acquaintance  with  it.  It  presents  a  facade  without  enrichment 
except  at  the  portals.  Its  big  buttresses  divide  it  into  vertical  space 
relations,  held  together  by  a  few  well  placed  windows.  Everything  is 
subordinated  to  the  dominant  uphft  of  the  spires.  The  eye  moves 
upward  unconsciously  through  the  rhythmic  increase  of  measures; 
it  is  one  of  those  churches  on  which  the  spires  seem  actually  to  reach 
upward.  The  massive  simphcity  of  the  facade  serves  as  a  refreshing 
contrast  to  the  strong  movements  above. 

In  Notre  Dame  there  is  a  more  subtle  relation  of  space  and  mass, 
of  line  and  form,  a  greater  refinement  of  all  the  parts.  It  strikes  just 
the  right  balance  between  constructive  logic  and  fine  feehng.  The 
scheme  of  the  builders  may  be  seen  in  Figure  One.  The  relation  of 
the  different  parts  is  more  interesting  than  in  the  former  church;  the 
enrichment  is  built  up  with  the  design,  and  occurs  at  the  points  where 
it  becomes  most  effective.     Note  the  value  of  the  horizontal  band  of 

46 


BEAUTY  THROUGH  RIGHT  CONSTRUCTION 


sculptured  figures  composed  of  vertical 
motifs,  and  compare  this  band  with  the 
one  above.  As  a  composition  pure  and 
simple,  down  to  the  last  detail,  it  leaves 
no  possible  opportunity  for  a  change  from 
the  scheme  to  which  its  builders  worked. 
The  structural  basis  afforded  by  the 
Abbaye  aux  Hommes  has  arrived  at  its 
finest  possible  expression. 

Saint  Maclou  is  not,  of  course,  a 
church  of  the  same  order  as  these  two. 
It  is  smaller,  hence  it  seems  quite  proper 
that  it  should  be  richer  in  detail.  It  fol- 
lows Notre  Dame  by  two  centuries  and  is 
quite  as  its  builders  left  it,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  modern  spire  which  replaces 
an  old  one  of  wood.  It  is  plain  that  a  turning  point  has  been 
reached;  that  constructive  skill  has  come  to  a  climax.  The  builders 
hesitate  at  nothing ;  they  are  literally  exultant  with  the  victory  wliich 
they  have  achieved  over  stone.  They  have  spun  a  web  of  fancy  over 
every  portion  of  the  church.  It  seems  as  if  the  challenge  of  the 
wood  carvers  and  goldsmiths  has  been  accepted ;  the  building  has  the 
quality  of  a  finely  wrought  piece  of  jewelry.  The  consummate 
technical  skill  of  the  craftsmen  is  coming  to  be  a  greater  force  than 
their  feeling  for  big,  simple  proportions.  The  lavish  enrichment  is 
quite  in  keeping  with  the  changing  spirit  of  the  time.  The  persistent 
thought  which  held  the  builders  to  their  task  at  Notre  Dame  is  wan- 
ing.    The  deep  current  of  that  unquestioning  faith,  strong,  emotional. 


..-.^ 


-._l 


FIGURE    ONE. 


1 

1 

H 

' 1        1 

FIGURE   TWO. 


47 


BEAUTY  THROUGH  RIGHT  CONSTRUCTION 

which  led  men  to  subordinate  themselves  without  regard  for  personal 
credit  or  material  gain  at  Chartres,  which  carried  the  Crusaders 
across  Europe  to  the  Holy  Land,  is  at  an  ebb. 

THE  credence  in  Figure  Two  bears  somewhat  the  same  relation 
to  cabinet  making  that  Notre  Dame  does  to  cathedral  building. 
It  possesses  that  subtle  charm  of  composition  which  leaves  one 
with  a  feeling  that  no  line  or  form,  space  or  mass  can  be  changed 
without  destroying  the  unity  of  the  whole.  It  is  music  and  poetry 
wrought  into  wood. 

The  same  development  of  execution  and  composition  found  in 
the  churches  follows  throughout  the  craftswork  of  the  time.  In  the 
beginnings  of  each  craft  there  is  crudeness  of  execution,  a  putting 
together  of  simple  lines  and  forms  in  a  rude  and  simple  way.  But 
the  result  has  potential  strength;  the  purpose  is  there,  the  thought 
is  thei"e;  the  refinements  of  expression  will  come  in  due  season.  The 
finest  periods  of  the  various  crafts  do  not,  of  course,  coincide  in  point 
of  time;  each  craft  grew  to  its  full  strength  as  the  demand  which 
brought  it  into  being  increased.  During  the  period  of  growth  the 
beauty  within  the  man  seems  always  a  little  in  advance  of  his  techni- 
cal ability  to  express  it,  an  ideal  just  beyond  reach.  Then  comes 
the  fine  ]>eriod.  just  when  the  workers  have  succeeded  in  overcoming 
the  many  mechanical  and  technical  difficulties  that  confront  them, 
and  finally  the  decline  when  the  craftsmen  become  boastful  of  their 
prowess,  when  skilful  technique  becomes  an  end  rather  than  a  means. 
One  may  marvel  at  the  technique  of  Benvenuto  Cellini,  yet  turn  with 
deeper  satisfaction  to  the  work  of  many  unnamed  craftsmen  who  lived 
long  before  his  time. 

Frequently  on  a  piece  of  Gothic  craftwork  we  may  find  such  a 
naive  legend  as  "Peter  made  me."  Peter  from  the  raw  material 
fashioned  something  after  his  own  nature, — simple,  honest.  He  gave 
to  it  such  beauty  as  he  could ;  it  may  be  that  it  is  rude  and  unpolished — - 
like  Peter.  We  are  sure  that  we  can  do  a  more  finished  piece  of  work 
with  our  own  tools.  Yet  there  is  about  this  piece  of  work  some  in- 
definable (quality  which  has  brought  it  home  to  a  fitting  resting  place 
in  a  gallery  among  the  masterpieces.  It  is  that  factor  which  remains 
after  all  else  has  been  properly  analyzed, — that  which  makes  art 
worth  while.  For  if  you  scratch  the  surface  of  this  thing  you  will 
find, — not  mere  wood,  or  stone,  or  iron, — but  Peter.  He  made 
"me;"  he  gave  me  personality,  some  of  the  soul  stuff  of  one  whose 
emotions  were  real,  and  who  put  himself  into  his  work  because  he 
loved  it  and  had  something  to  say.  It  satisfies  the  heart,  though  the 
head  may  find  fault  with  its  execution  and  composition. 

48 


BEAUTY  THROUGH  RIGHT  CONSTRUCTION 


Mediaeval  sculpture  is 
poseful ;  those  who 
to  express  and  they  chose 
which  everybody  under 
could  read  or  write.  The 
least  spared  was  done  in 
art  was  a  common  Ian 
in  ratio  to  the  number 
the  number  who  respond 
a  long  refining  process 
statue  in  Figure  Three  to 
portal  of  Amiens.  But 
same,  each  statue  suffici 
— a  message  from  one 
The  cathedral  was  the 
a  "Bible  in  stone."  The 
the  exterior,  glowed  in 
the  windows,  was  painted 
the  choir  stalls.  The 
of  all  the  people;  they 
bols,  even  though  we 
wth  difficulty.  But  even 
we  feel  the  beauty  of  the 
comes  from  the  heart 
alive  with  human  interest,  '''°"''''  '"''''''•  a  personal  history. 

That  the  sculpture  should  be  an  organic  part  of  the  architectural 
scheme  of  the  church  was  natural  when  we  consider  all  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  it  was  produced.  It  was  built  up  with  the  rest 
of  the  church,  cut  from  the  same  material,  by  workmen  who  were 
"on  the  job,"  who  were  familiar  with  all  the  problems  that  arose  and 
who  were  actively  cooperating  with  their  fellow  workmen  to  a  com- 
mon end.  It  was  constructive  ornament  cut  into  the  form  of  a 
message. 


vital  because  it  was  pur- 
wrought  it  had  a  thought 
that  foim  of  expression 
stood  in  an  age  when  few 
world's  art  that  can  be 
places  and  at  times  when 
guage,  its  strength  being 
who  practiced  art  and 
ed  to  its  appeal.  It  was 
from  the  rude,  angular 
that  other  statue  at  the 
the  message  was  the 
ent  in  its  time  and  place, 
man  to  his  fellow  men. 
common  man's  Bible, — 
story  looked  forth  from 
wonderful  colors  through 
at  the  altars,  carved  in 
story  was  in  the  hearts 
knew  its  forms  and  sym- 
sometimes  follow  them 
when  we  miss  the  story 
work,  because  that  which 
will  always  be  beautiful. 


49 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  NECESSARY  FOR 
THE  TRUE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  AMERICAN 
ART:   BY  THE  EDITOR 

]0  WHAT  extent  can  society  promote  art  ?  Not  society 
with  a  capital,  but  associated  human  interest — that 
combination  of  civiUzed  inteUigence  which  is  most 
Ukeiy  to  unite  into  groups  for  the  furtherance  of  some 
universal  or  personal  purpose.  Nowadays,  just  as 
soon  as  there  is  j^opular  achievement,  there  follows  the 
impulse  to  combine  to  express  approval  or  to  enlarge 
opportunity.  Sooner  or  later  the  question  is  bound  to  arise  as  to  the 
advantage  of  this  sort  of  association,  as  to  the  real  help  a  society  can 
be  to  the  individual.  As,  for  instance,  take  the  question  of  art  socie- 
ties, to  what  extent  does  this  coordination  of  interest  work  for  the  big 
advancement  of  art  matters  in  America .''  Are  we  a  more  developed 
nation  artistically  because  of  our  art  societies  and  leagues  ?  Are  our 
significant  men  in  art  placed  in  a  better  relation  to  the  world  and  to 
each  other  through  these  associations  ?  Are  our  students  made  more 
capable,  moi-e  diligent,  better  craftsmen,  more  sincere,  more  useful 
to  a  nation  needing  art  ?  What  valuable  influence  do  our  societies 
exert  ?  Are  they  progressive,  moving  along  lines  in  harmony  with 
various  other  channels  or  national  progress  ? 

As  a  nation  we  undoubtedly  need  all  the  help  we  can  find  among 
ourselves  in  matters  of  art.  We  have  been  allowed  to  mature  too 
rapidly,  spending  too  little  time  in  the  nursery.  We  have  grown  up 
so  swiftly,  much  of  the  time  self-supporting,  that  we  have  had  too  little 
leisure  for  art  development  in  the  youthful  days,  when  a  nation  is 
poetical,  naive,  full  of  simple  enthusiasm,  unstifl'ened  by  many  coat- 
ings of  culture,  flexible  to  impressions  from  within  and  without, 
susceptible  to  home  influences,  finding  inspiration  at  the  doorstep, 
livino;  in  traditions  and  singing;  songs  which  are  legends.  We  were 
old  before  we  began  to  sing  or  to  tell  tales  in  verse  or  to  ornament 
our  daily  life  because  we  were  intimate  with  it,  and  found  time  for 
the  enrichment  of  what  was  best  and  simple.  In  other  words,  Amer- 
ica is  a  city-bred  child,  without  the  infancy  that  roams  the  woods, 
dwells  with  the  birds  and  listens  to  old  folk  tale  about  old  hearth- 
stones. We  were  too  busy  when  we  were  young,  just  learning  to 
grow  up;  we  were  too  anxious,  too  fretful,  striving  to  manage,  just 
a  few  of  us,  the  biggest  land  in  the  world,  to  leave  our  minds  at  peace 
for  insjiiration  and  open  to  the  influences  for  beauty  that  are  forever 
at  hand  among  the  primitive  people  of  right  leisure. 

We  had  a  vast  undertaking  m  taking  away  a  huge  country  from 
the  art-loving,  right-tliinking  owners,  the  Indians,  and  we  had  this 

50 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  IN  AMERICAN   ART 

same  vast  land  to  protect  from  others  who  arbitrarily  and  wrongfully 
desired  to  take  it  away  from  us.  We  were  an  isolated  land  and  could 
not  ask  help  from  other  nations.  Other  countries  were  willing  to 
send  us  rulers,  but  not  to  help  make  it  possible  for  us  to  rule  our- 
selves. It  was  up  to  America  in  those  early  days,  when  most  nations 
begin  to  establish  an  art,  to  give  all  its  time  and  attention  to  "watch- 
ing out,"  or  else  be  eaten  up  by  many  kinds  of  kingly  goblins.  And 
so  we  grew  to  be  a  restless  people,  nervous,  thin-voiced,  self-conscious, 
fearful  of  criticism,  and  thus,  imitative.  Because  the  impulse  to 
create  had  atrophied  from  the  manner  of  our  growth,  we  grew  afraid 
of  originality  and  we  turned  for  art  to  nations  who  had  grown  up  in 
a  leism-ely  way  through  dozens  of  centuries,  and  whose  art  had  found 
place  in  all  phases  of  their  development.  Thus  we  built  foreign 
houses,  bought  foreign  paintings  and  sculpture,  stole  foreign  ideas 
(as  absurd  for  us  as  a  foreign  accent)  and  for  years  forgot  the  very 
purpose  of  art, — to  express  for  a  land  the  impulse  of  its  own  people 
toward  beauty. 

AND  then  we  roused  up  a  little,  some  of  us  a  good  deal.  We 
said,  "We  want  to  do  something  original ;  we  nave  grown  tired 
of  the  Greeks,  the  French,  the  English  in  our  art;  we  will  be 
bold,  eccentric,  American."  In  the  course  of  time  we  progressed 
beyond  the  confusion  of  originality  with  eccentricity  and  said,  again, 
"We  will  hold  to  good  foreign  ideals  and  adapt  them  to  American 
needs."  This  for  the  time  seemed  better  to  us  tnan  the  crude  Ameri- 
can product.  But  think  what  it  meant  to  adapt  foreign  ideals, 
which  had  grown  up  for  centuries  out  of  the  desires  of  the  over- 
civilized,  over-cultivated  people,  to  the  needs  of  the  practical,  hard- 
working, strenuous  American!  Still,  we  did  it;  we  adapted  a  temple 
originally  designed  for  Greek  worship  to  the  uses  of  a  bank,  where 
the  business  of  a  practical  nation  was  carried  on.  We  adapted  the 
palace  of  an  Italian  nobleman  with  Mediaeval  interests  in  hygiene 
and  comfort  to  the  home  life  of  a  democratic  American  family  with 
modern  standards  of  a  wholesome  rational  existence.  Yet  thi'ough 
it  all  we  still  made  some  progress.  And  after  carrying  on  our  business 
in  Greek  temples  and  living  our  simple  lives  in  Italian  palaces,  we 
moved  a  step  further  and  began  to  form  ourselves  into  societies  and 
leagues,  and  we  talked  of  the  advancement  of  fine  arts  in  America — 
and  at  that  time  we  always  used  a  capital  F  and  A.  At  first,  the 
idea  of  men  and  women  workers  banaing  themselves  together  into 
societies  to  aid  each  other  in  the  development  of  art  conditions  in 
America  seemed  both  laudatory  and  unselfish.  "Surely,"  we  said,, 
"this    opportunity    for    advice,    criticism,    comparison,    cooperation 

55 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  IN  AIMERICAN   ART 

must  help  us  to  succeed  in  elevating  the  standards  of  art  in  our  own 
country."  Theoretically  the  idea  was  excellent,  and  in  the  beginning 
no  doubt  much  was  accomplished  by  gathering  together  the  work 
of  various  artists,  to  attract  public  attention,  to  enable  the  critic  to 
form  a  better  standard  of  comparison,  to  encourage  the  students  and 
force  responsibility  upon  the  older  members.  All  this  and  more 
may  have  been  the  result  of  the  first  banding  together  of  enthusiastic, 
sincere  workers  in  art.  And  while  the  enthusiasm  which  builds  up 
an  organization  lasts  there  is  life  and  valuable  achievement;  but  once 
a  society  settles  into  a  groove,  with  the  older  members  devitalizing 
mentally  as  they  do  physically,  the  average  association  becomes  little 
more  than  a  tomb  for  past  successes,  and  the  younger  generation 
must  either  battle  or  secede.  Thus,  one  should  not  grow  skeptical 
of  the  usefulness  of  an  organized  movement  for  art's  sake,  but  one 
should  forever  bear  in  mind  that  the  value  of  each  society  in  turn  is 
ephemeral,  and  that  by  the  time  an  association  becomes  old  and 
dignified  and  famous,  its  usefulness  is  usually  past,  except  as  it  breeds 
a  spirit  in  the  younger  generation  of  brandling  out  into  fresh  organi- 
zation and  fresh  achievement. 

And  this  brings  us  in  America  to  such  large  and  successful  so- 
cieties as  the  National  Academy  and  the  Arcliitectural  League,  both 
organizations  of  the  highest  artistic  and  social  standing,  admission 
to  which  is  eagerly  sought  by  the  mass  of  the  younger  as  well  as  the 
older  men.  And  yet  the  outsider,  who  even  if  a  layman  nevertheless 
thinks  about  these  matters,  goes  to  these  exhibits  season  after  season, 
seeking  anxiously  for  essentially  good  tilings  from  American  artists, 
for  an  expression  of  our  own  understanding  of  beauty  in  art  and  archi- 
tecture, for  paintings  and  statues  and  homes  and  decorations  which 
belong  to  democratic  ideals  and  sincere  ways  of  living  and  thinking. 
In  the  main  one  meets  disappointment,  finding  instead  of  American 
ideals  of  simplicity  and  sincerity  much  of  the  former  tendency  to 
imitate,  to  readjust,  to  fhrt  with  old-world,  threadbare,  devitalized 
ideals.  We  are  surrounded  with  the  concrete  expression  of  almost 
every  phase  of  European  frivolity,  rather  than  with  the  effort  to  set 
forth  what  we  are  in  America  by  what  we  do. 

It  would  seem  that  when  a  builder  builds  in  this  country,  as  a 
rule  he  faces  Europe,  turning  his  back  squarely  on  the  land  he  is  to 
build  upon  and  the  people  he  is  to  house;  that  when  the  painter  paints  he 
often  also  seeks  to  ignore  the  spirit  of  his  own  land,  his  own  tempera- 
ment and  the  record  his  work  is  to  make  for  his  home  country,  and 
that  instead  he  strives  to  secure  the  French  point  of  view  or  an  English 
mannerism  or  a  Dutch  method.  It  is  not  merely  that  he  seeks  the 
subjects  for  his  art  abroad,  but  that  he  seeks  a  foreign  attitude  of 

56 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  IN  AMERICAN   ART 

mind  toward  his  art;  it  is  not  merely  that  he  usually  ignores  the 
beauty  of  his  own  land,  but  that  when  he  comes  to  it  he  brino-s  an 
alien  mind. 

Yet  it  is  not  a  separation  of  the  arts  of  different  lands  that  we 
crave,  for  well  we  know  how  intimately  all  the  arts  of  all  nations 
and  times  are  allied,  and  what  a  continued  story  art  history  is  from 
centiu-y  to  century.  There  are  no  breaks,  only  periods  of  lesser 
endeavor.  But  in  recognizing  the  continuity  of  art  history  and  the 
necessity  of  its  complete  understanding,  the  value  of  the  chapter  each 
nation  contributes  to  the  general  history  depends  upon  its  individual 
honesty,  its  purpose  to  be  a  sincere  record  of  its  own  times.  To 
make  the  American  chapter  of  art  of  significance  in  such  a  liistory  we 
must  forget  to  imitate  well  and  learn  to  create  honestly.  Instead  of 
adjusting  the  thoughts  of  others  to  our  art  expression,  we  should 
study  to  understand  completely  the  fundamental  principles  of  all  art; 
adapting  these  principles  to  our  own  individual  expression  of  beauty 
rather  than  to  copy  the  ways  in  which  the  artists  of  other  lands  have 
adapted  them  to  their  personal  expression. 

AND  thus  when  we  found  ourselves  (in  spite  of  some  very  great 
beauty  to  be  seen  at  the  Twenty-fourth  Annual  Exhibition 
of  the  Architectural  League)  looking  about  from  wall  to  wall, 
in  the  main  dissatisfied,  or  at  least  with  only  occasional  flashes  of 
interest,  we  naturally  questioned  as  to  the  reason  why.  What  does 
the  exhibit  as  a  whole  lack  ?  Why  are  we  more  or  less  indiffei'ent 
to  the  well  presented  work  of  some  three  hundred  and  ninety-one 
artists,  many  of  them  famous  ?  What  do  we  demand  in  the  art 
expression  of  America  which  we  do  not  find  on  these  walls  ?  What 
element  wliich  makes  a  nation  great  in  art  is  wanting  here.?  And 
the  more  we  studied  and  questioned  and  thought  about  it,  the  more 
utterly  we  were  convinced  that  the  great  lack  at  this  exhibit,  as  well 
as  at  many  others  in  architecture  and  in  painting,  was  significant 
originality.  The  genuine  creative  spirit  seemed  to  have  gone  to 
seed.  And  reduced  to  the  final  analysis,  what  is  this  significant 
creative  quality  in  art  beyond  sincerity,  thinking  honestly  and  express- 
ing the  thought  you  have  about  the  vital  conditions  which  surround 
you  in  the  most  individual  way  which  the  technique  of  your  art  will 
permit  ?  In  still  simpler  language,  it  is  just  being  honest  with  your- 
self, with  your  country,  with  your  art.  It  is  not  a  question  of  whether 
one  tliinks  as  a  poet  or  as  a  realist;  it  is  only  essential  that  the  way 
should  be  inevitable  to  yourself.  Absolute  honesty  in  art  means 
that  you  are  using  every  quality  which  you  possess  to  the  utmost 
advantage, — mind,  brain,  emotions, — that  you  are  relating  all  of  these 

57 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  IN   AIVfERICAN  ART 

things  to  the  Hfe  which  you  wish  to  express,  that  you  say  only  what 
you  think,  whether  it  is  greater  or  smaller  than  other  people's  thought, 
and  that  you  say  it  excmsively  in  your  own  way. 

How  much  of  this  sort  of  truth  tellino-  was  there  at  the  recent 
exhibition  at  the  Architectural  League  ?  Some,  of  course.  In  the 
mural  decorations,  "The  Divine  Law,"  by  W.  B.  Van  Ingen;  in  the 
pediment  by  Karl  Bitter,  in  the  New  York  municipal  building  de- 
signed by  Ilowells  &  Stokes,  scattered  about  in  the  domestic  archi- 
tecture of  such  men  as  Grosvenor  Atterbury,  Hunt  &  Grey,  Wilson 
Eyre,  Stephenson  &  Wheeler,  Albro  &  Lindeberg,  Squires  &  Wyn- 
koop.  Price  &  King,  Reed  &  Stem,  Donn  Barber,  Cass  Gilbert 
(whose  stations  for  the  New  York,  New  Haven  &  Hartford  Railway 
are  a  rare  expression  of  arcliitectural  achievement  for  their  own  land), 
in  the  work  of  such  a  sculptor  as  Janet  Scudder,  and  in  the  crafts- 
manship of  such  a  man  as  Albert  Ilerter.  Here  indeed  was  the 
spirit  ot  true  art  to  be  found,  but  perhaps  you  may  have  noticed  that 
it  was  not  taking  prizes  or  winning  spectacular  approval  or  in  anj 
way  flominating  the  exliibition.  As  a  whole,  the  work  was  purely 
imitative.  It  was  born  in  Greece,  or  in  that  ante-chamber  to  Greece, 
the  Beaux  Arts  of  Paris.  It  lacked  significance,  purpose,  individ- 
uality and  any  sort  of  relation  to  American  conditions,  and  because 
lacking  these  essentials  it  was  devoid  of  honesty,  however  beautiful 
or  apparently  successful.  Such  an  exliibition  as  a  whole  means 
nothing  to  us  in  the  progress  of  our  art,  notliing  in  the  development 
of  our  artists,  nothing,  less  than  nothing,  in  establishing  a  standard 
for  the  students  who  are  to  build  and  decorate  for  us  in  the  years  to 
come.  It  would  have  been  better,  infinitely  more  significant,  if  half 
the  wall  space  could  have  been  given  up  to  the  more  practical  build- 
ing industries,  where  art  plays  a  part  and  sincerity  is  essential. 

WHxVT  if  we  could  have  one  room  reserved  for  exhibits  in  wood 
finishes,  with  all  our  beautiful  inexpensive  American  woods 
in  the  various  interesting  simple  finishes  of  which  they  are 
susceptible;  finishes  which  seem  to  reveal  the  utmost  rich  beauty 
of  wood  that  has  been  practically  ignored  up  to  the  present  time  .'* 
Or  what  about  a  collection  of  the  many  American  leathers,  stained 
and  treated  for  the  utmost  quality  of  beauty  and  durability;  or  a  dis- 
play of  wood  carving  showing  in  what  interesting  ways  modern  wood 
carving  could  be  related  to  American  houses  and  interior  decoration  ? 
Why  not  have  allowed  space  with  good  lights  for  American  stained 
glass  exhibits .''  It  is  well  known  that  the  modern  American  stained 
irlass  is  the  most  interesting;  and  significant  of  all  the  work  of  tliis 
description  of  the  present  century.     Why  is  it  a  more  commercial 


From   th.c   .'. 


THE  I'ROl'HETS  :  DETAII.  I'KoM  THE  DIVINE 
I.AW":  A  FKIEZE  FOR  THE  UNITED  STATES  CIRCUIT 
COURT,    CHICAGO:    BY   W.    B.    VAN    INf.EN. 


.-irclntfctuuil   League. 

MUNICIPAL  OFFICE  BUII.DINl.  ;  O-O^^KING  OVER 
CITY  IIALI,).  IIESH.NED  HY  MC  KIM,  MEAD  ANI> 
white:  prize  winner  in  the  city's  COMPETI- 
TION    FOR    A     PUBLIC    BUILDINO. 


From   the  ?4th  Annual  f.Ji' 


)'or!c  Architectural   Leitgue. 


MUNICIPAL  OFFICE  BUILDING:  DESIGNED  FOR  THE 
NEW  YORK  COMPETITION  FOR  A  PUBLIC  BUILDING 
BY    HOVVELLS    AND    STOKES. 


Z    3! 


J  <  =' 

S  2  ?• 


A  GREATER  SINCERITY  IN   AMERICAN   ART 

proposition  than  the  window  in  which  the  glass  is  placed  ?  Or  we 
mignt  have  had  a  corner  given  up  to  metal  work  or  pottery  or  rugs, — 
all  adapted  to  the  American  homes  and  ways  of  living.  What  a  help 
such  exhibits  would  be  to  the  house  builders,  and  what  more  appro- 
priate than  that  the  best  we  are  doing  in  architecture  and  house 
adornment  should  find  jilace  together  in  our  exhibition  rooms  ? 

"Commercializing  art  societies,"  you  say.  Not  one  bit  more 
than  we  have  already  commercialized  them,  and  this  without  any 
idea  of  relating  use  to  beauty.  A  well  designed  copper  electric  fitting, 
a  rug  of  Indian  pattern  in  rich  hues,  a  fireplace  in  American  tiles, 
humorous  and  decorative,  pottery  out  of  our  own  clay  and  related 
to  our  own  woods  and  color  schemes,  why  are  these  essentially  beauti- 
ful and  American  products  any  more  commercial  than  designs  for 
houses  or  railways  or  stations  or  churches  'i  Who  has  taken  upon 
himself  to  decide  that  a  front  porch  is  art  and  a  well  designed  rug 
commercial,  that  a  doorway  springs  from  imagination  and  a  metal 
fireplace  is  a  vulgar  expression  ot  industrialism .''  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  we  have  become  utterly  confused  in  our  feeling  that  there  is 
need  for  an  arbitrary  division  of  the  arts,  and  our  scorn  for  the  word 
industrial  is  just  the  vulgarity  of  a  nervous,  new  nation  who,  we  feel 
confident,  will  grow  in  her  capacity  to  honor  work  as  she  grows  in 
wisdom  and  strength  and  courage. 

Really,  what  we  need  overw-lielmingly  here  in  America  is  to  do 
away  with  all  this  fussing  about  the  place  of  art  and  the  position  of 
our  societies,  and  work  fearlessly  in  whatever  line  we  can  Dcst  make 
good  to  our  country;  studying  the  needs  of  our  people,  expressing  the 
life  of  the  people,  and  expressing  it  well  because  we  know  it  well. 
Let  us  be  original  because  we  dare  to  be  natural,  and  natural  because 
we  have  learned  to  be  sincere.  For,  as  we  have  already  said,  sin- 
cerity is  what  American  art  has  most  lacked,  and  fortunately  for  us  as  a 
country  we  are  at  last  waking  up  to  the  fact  that  we  cannot  build  uj) 
for  ourselves  an  art  that  does  not  rest  on  an  honest  foundation.  We 
have  got  to  learn  to  believe  in  ourselves  and  express  what  we  believe 
in  order  to  paint  or  build  or  model  a  lasting  art  in  America.  Some 
of  our  workers  have  already  found  this  out,  and  those  are  the  people 
whose  work  we  stop  to  look  at  as  we  stroll  indifi'erently  past  the  walls 
of  our  leagues  and  societies,  those  are  the  men  who  have  a  sj)irituiil 
patriotism,  who  know  their  own  land,  who  achieve  for  it  and  through 
it,  and  it  is  such  men  as  these  who  will  give  us  our  permanent  architec- 
ture, the  right  decoration  for  jjublic  buildings,  who  will  paint  and 
model  an  art  that  will  outlive  the  conditions  they  represent.  And 
best  of  all,  they  Avill  win  for  us  as  a  nation  respect  and  honor  for  our 
achievement. 

59 


CARVING  AS  AN  EXPRESSION  OF  INDIVIDU- 
ALITY: ITS  PURPOSE  IN  ARCHITECTURE.  BY 
ERNEST  A.  BATCHELDER 

^ARVING?  The  word  at  once  turns  one  back  into 
history  much  as  the  odor  of  sandalwood  carries  with 
it  the  dreamland  memories  of  the  Orient.  For  the  carver 
in  wood,  like  the  goldsmith,  the  locksmith  and  the  lead 
glazer,  has  long  since  passed  from  the  ken  of  human 
affairs,  leaving  only  his  handiwork  as  an  attest  to  the 
sense  of  beauty  that  was  within  his  heart.  To  be  sure, 
there  are  many  people  busily  engaged  in  carving  wood  at  the  present 
hour  and  moment,  enthusiastic  amateurs  who  find  a  justifiable  pleas- 
ure in  shaping  forms  with  mallet  and  chisel;  inventive  persons  who 
seek  to  accompHsh  wath  machinery  a  product  sufficiently  cheap  that 
the  poorest  among  us  may  have  it  spread  over  the  surface  of  his  fur- 
niture, if  he  so  desires;  in  far  away  Florence  and  Venice  are  workers 
so  skilled  that  they  can,  literally,  cai-ve  the  old,  old  forms  with  their 
eyes  shut  and  their  minds  in  smug  repose;  away  up  in  the  highlands 
of  the  Tyrol  are  others  diligently  plying  their  tools  that  the  tourist 
may  not  "depart  empty-handed.  The  chips  still  fly;  but  carving, — 
let  us  specify  the  case  exactly,— carving  as  a  logical  enrichment  of 
construction,"^  as  the  final  touch  that  gives  life,  character,  style  to  one's 
work,  that  reflects,  as  any  art  should,  something  of  the  personality 
of  the  worker,  and  the  environment  in  which  his  work  is  produced,  is 
well-nigh  a  lost  art.  Our  amateurs  bravely  essay  chip  carving,  Norse 
cai-ving,  Mediaeval  carving ;  but  when  we  seek  in  modern  work  a  piece 
of  carving  that  is  organic,  expressive  of  thoughtful  and  skilled  work- 
manship we  find  only  a  broken  reed  from  which  the  music  has  de- 
parted. 

A  moment,  though !  Here  comes  a  note,  somewhat  plaintive,  per- 
haps, but  clear  and  unmistakable.  It  is  a  note  from  a  master  crafts- 
man. Of  course,  there  are  more  important  productions  in  the  world 
of  art;  but  in  the  simple  implement  in  Figure  One  an  Indiaii  of  the 
Northwest  coast  of  America,  by  follo\\^ng  in  his  own  instinctive  fash- 
ion the  impulse  for  beauty  of  some  sort,  has  wrought  in  primitive  form 
a  valuable  lesson  in  fundamentals.  The  simpler  the  lesson,  the 
clearer  the  sermon.  It  is  merely  a  tool  for  scraping  hides; — this  may 
stand  for  the  idea,  a  real  need,  something  serviceable.  With  the  need 
established,  utility  at  once  defined  the  general  form  and  the  con- 
structive elements, — handle  of  wood,  blade  of  iron,  the  two  bound 
together  with  rawhide  thongs  smeared  with  pitch.  Now  the  artistic 
feeling  with  wliich  Nature  saw  fit  to  endow  this  Indian  was  of  the 
kind  that  finds  expression  in  daily  life  and  work;  moreover,  a  man 

60 


THE  PURPOSE  OF   CARVING  IN   BUILDING 


who  is  making  a  tool  for 
his  own  use, — or  a  chair, 
or  a  house,  for  that  mat- 
ter,— may  be  depended 
upon  not  to  ignore  the 
practical  phases  of  his 
FIGURE  ONE  problcm.  Common  sense 
served  to  point  the  way  at 
first ;  but  then,  as  the  idea  began  to  take'definite  shape  in  the  mind  of 
the  worker,  there  entered  the  play  impulse,  the  surplus  energy  that 
counts  for  beauty  whether  in  a  scraper  or  a  Gothic  cathedral,  the  im- 
pulse that  is  not  content  with  adequate  service  alone.  A  few  thoughtful 
touches  of  the  knife,  and  an  otherwise  serviceable  tool  becomes  an 
object  of  extreme  interest,  insistent  in  its  personality, — call  it  beauti- 
ful or  not  according  to  the  reader's  taste.  Being  a  hunter,  this 
Indian's  thought  naturally  evolved  a  beast-like  motif;  being  a  practi- 
cal man  the  form  of  the  creature  was  logically  governed  by  the  func- 
tion which  it  had  to  perform  as  a  handle,  each  part,  body,  legs  and 
the  long  snout  running  out  for  a  strengthening  brace,  fulfilling  its 
purpose;  and  if  you  were  to  take  the  scraper  in  hand  your  thumb 
would  ine\'itably  drop  into  a  little  hollow  made  for  it  between  the  ears. 
A  far  less  skilful  designer  might  have  carved  a  far  more  realistic  beast, 
and  yet  gone  a  long  way  astray  from  the  very  things  that  distinguish 
this  little  tool  as  the  work  of  a  master  craftsman.  The  more  one 
studies  it,  the  more  satisfnng  it  becomes  from  every  point  of  view. 
\Vhen  we  turn  to  more  important  products  we  find,  after  all,  that  it 
is  only  in  degree,  not  in  kind,  that  they  differ  from  the  work  of  our 
Indian  carver. 

The  pith  of  the  sermon,  then,  is  to  be  found  in  the  intimate  rela- 
tion of  all  the  steps  of  the  problem  leading  from  the  idea,  through 
practical  development 
to  organic  ornament 
expressing  something 
of  the  personality  of 
the  worker.  The  tail- 
piece takes  us  to  an- 
other primitive  worker 
on  the  other  side  of 
the  globe,  in  Java. 
Apply  for  yourself  the 
same  reasoning  as  in 
the  first  example.  Fol- 
low the  process  from 


FIGURE  TWO 


6i 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  CARVING  IN  BUILDING 

the  idea  to  its  final  expression.  Here  again  mere  adequacy  is  not 
enough;  yet  it  may  be  seen  that  in  seeking  the  curve  of  greatest  effi- 
ciency for  the  handle  the  end  of  beauty  has  hke\\-ise  been  attained. 
The  carving  appears  just  where  one  would  naturally  expect  to  find 
it.  The  ladle  was  not  fasliioned  as  an  excuse  for  the  practice  of 
carving.  The  ornament  was  of  spontaneous  growth ;  it  came  at  ihe 
proper  time  and  place,  just  as  the  leaves  push  forth  in  the  spring  to 
clothe  the  bare  trees  with  beauty;  the  leaves  were  there  in  the 
Master  mind,  even  when  the  tree  branches  were  clean  cut  against 
the  winter  sky, — and  they  came  in  due  season. 

Figure  Two  carries  us  back  a  century  or  more  to  the  humble 
Alpine  home  of  a  Swiss  peasant.  Here  again  was  a  need,  a  real  cry- 
ing need,  if  one  may  so  put  it.  The  peasant  worker  was  guided  along 
precisely  the  same  pathway  that  was  pursued  by  the  primitive  crafts- 
men. The  cradle  was  doubtless  wrought  in  the  kitchen  at  the  day's 
end  of  work.  Color  adds  much  to  the  beauty,  touches  of  dull  brown 
and  blue,  a  gorgeous  time-toned  red  such  as  came  out  of  Persia  with 
the  old  rugs,— all  mingled  with  the  golden  hue  of  the  pine.  From 
a  rude  peasant,  too!  A  fitting  reminder  that  art  and  education  do  not 
always  go  hand  in  hand.  A  little  sense  of  beauty  in  the  heart  ex- 
presses itself  in  ways  that  any  amount  of  information  about  beauty 
in  the  head  fails  to  achieve.'  The  carving  itself  is  crude  enough, 
though  our  rough  sketch  does  not  do  it  justice ;  it  was  evidently  done 
with  clumsy  tools  and  thought  out  in  the  wood  as  the  worker  j)ro- 
gressed.  It  illustrates  the  maxim  that  the  effect  of  the  ensemble  is 
more  important  than  any  of  its  details ;  or  to  put  it  another  way,  no 
amount  of  skilfully  carved  detail  will  make  beautiful  that  which  does 
not  already  ring  true.  Clumsiness  with  sincerity  of  purpose  is  much 
to  be  preferred  to  fine  skill  with  no  purpose. 

Now  let  us  leave  our  Indian,  scraping  hides  with  all  the  enjoy- 
ment that  a  satisfied  impulse  for  beauty  may  bring  to  him,  likewise 
his  primitive  brother  in  Java,  and  the  more  or  less  primitive  peasant, 
for  things  of  greater  importance.  With  these  people  designing  is 
something  of  an  instinctive  process,  an  unconscious  and  unaliected 
response  to  the  appeal  that  is  as  old  as  the  human  race,  ^yith  us 
designing, — or  car\ang,  which  is  only  designing  in  terms  of  wood, 
— is  an  intellectual  process;  self-conscious  and  self-critical  at  all 
times,  hedged  about  with  traditions  and  precedents.  A  desire  for 
carving — or  to  learn  how  to  carve,  comes  upon  us.  We  do  not  begin 
with  a  real  need  which  may  lead  us  to  carving  as  a  means  of  com- 

Eletion,  just  as  surely  as  the  Great  North  Road  leads  the  traveler  to 
.ondon.     "I^t  us  carve,"  the  amateur  says;  and  straightway  looks 
about  to  find  an  excuse  for  carving.     It  may  be  a  panel  to  l)e  ))uilt 

62 


THE  HOUSE  OF  DIANA  OF  I'OITEKS,  IN  ROUEN  :  AN 
EXAMI'LE  OF  RENAISSANCE  CARVING  WHICH  IS 
ADMlRAIil.V     RELATED    TO     ARCHITECTURE, 


AX  ICXAMl'I-E  OF  MKDI.^^VAI.  CARVING  W  II  Ull  WAS 
IJNllOUBTEDLV  THE  WORKMANSHIP  OF  A  SIMPLE 
CAKI'ENTER   OF   THOSE    DAYS. 

AN  OLD  CHEST,  SHOWING  A  MOST  INTERESTING 
CONTRAST  OF  GCITIIIC  STRTCTfRE  ANM  RENAIS- 
SANCE ORNAMENT. 


From  a  Decoration  by  John  Sargent   in   tlie  Boston  Museum, 


SARGENT  S   PROPHETS  ARE  "WONDERFUL, 
BLT    NOT    ARCHITECTURE." 


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THE    WORKSHOPS    AND    HOUSE    OF    M.     RENi    LA 
LiyUE,    PARIS:     SHOWING    THE    PINE    CONE    MOTIF 
OF    THE    CARVING    ABSOLUTELY    INCORPORATED    IN 
THE   ARCHITECTURE. 


"in-  iapan  there  is  a  kind  of  carving  in 
whic  ii  ai.i.  the  misic  and  poetry  of  natl-re 
kim'  im'kkssion." 


THE  PURPOSE   OF  CARVING  IN   BUILDING 

into  a  piece  of  furniture  by  some  worthy  carpenter  who  is  supposed 
to  have  knowledge  of  how  furniture  is  built.     The  lumber  lor  the 

f)anel  comes  from  the  mill,  properly  trimmed  and  smoothed  ready 
or  work.  For  a  design  we  cast  about  to  see  what  others  have  done 
in  the  past  that  may  be  suitably  adapted  to  our  purpose.  Perchance 
we  tr}'  a  hand  at  a  Norse  chair.  Fancy  a  Norse  chair  in  a  room  with 
a  Brussels  carpet  and  a  Grand  Rapids  chiffonier! 

LET  us  not  expect  the  modern  carver  to  evolve  at  once  from  his, 
or  her,  inner  consciousness  a  constructive  design  appropriately 
enriched  ^ath  carving.  The  past  should  be  studied,  thought- 
fully and  sympathetically, — but  as  a  means  to  an  end,  not  as  an  end  in 
itself.  That  which  gives  character  to  the  work  of  the  past  followed 
upon  long  years  of  practice  in  the  crafts  of  the  w'ood  workers.  Let 
us  study  their  things  to  learn  the  lesson  of  how,  where  and  why  carving 
was  used.  Let  us  copy  the  past  that  we  may  learn  how  to  carv^e, 
how  tools  were  used  to  the  best  advantage,  how  the  quahty  and  ^rain 
of  the  wood  influences  the  Unes  and  forms  of  the  design.  The  pamter 
works  from  the  old  masters  to  find  out  through  practice  how  they 
worked,  to  get  into  close  touch  with  painter  minds  superior  to  his  own. 
But  if  he  continues  to  imitate,  adapt,  rearrange  old  masters  for  the 
rest  of  his  life  we  shall  think  him  a  very  dull  painter  indeed.  No! 
He  works  from  the  masters  that  he  may  gain  strength  and  assurance 
to  speak  out  some  day  for  himself  and  give  expression  to  emotions 
of  his  own,  or  interpret  for  us  the  hfe  and  environment  about  him. 

There  is  an  undeniable  call  for  enrichment  of  some  sort  for  the 
simple  lines  and  forms  which  have  been  developing  in  arcliitecture 
and  furniture  during  the  past  few  years.  We  have  learned  the  value 
of  good  materials,  honest  workmanship,  fine  texture  and  finish.  But 
let  us  not  forget  that  these  things  came  as  a  reaction  against  thought- 
less design  and  borrowed  ornament.  Let  us  appreciate  fully  that 
material  itself,  whether  w^ood  or  iron,  brick  or  stone,  is  inherently 
beautiful  when  thoughtfully  employed;  that  a  feeUng  for  refinement 
of  fines,  forms,  proportions,  must  precede  any  attempt  at  enrichment. 
With  all  this  at  heart  let  us  then  hasten  slowly; — see  if  we  cannot  learn 
to  think  in  terms  of  wood  construction,  if  it  be  carving  that  we  wish ; — 
if  there  may  not  be  in  the  form  itself  a  clue  to  the  position  and  char- 
acter of  the  carving,  and  in  our  own  thought  or  in  the  boundless 
world  of  Nature  about  us  another  clue  that  may  shape  itself  under 
our  hands  into  appropriate  enrichment. 

But  the  important  things,  for  which  we  left  our  primitive  workers, 
have  been  quite  forgotten.  Let  us  hark  back  to  ]Media>val  work- 
shops, just  such  shops  as  one  may  find  today,  left  over  in  the  byways 

67 


THE  PURPOSE   OF  CARVING  IN   BUILDING 

of  small,  old-world  towns.  The  men  who  worked  there  were  car- 
penters first,  and  turned  carvers  when  the  occasion  arose.  This  was 
not  unusual,  in  fact,  it  was  quite  the  method;  the  play  of  one  mind 
brought  unity  to  the  result.  And  so  again  we  find  something  logical, 
consistent  throughout.  The  carving  seems  to  drop  in,  like  a  wel- 
come friend,  to  add  the  final  touch  to  our  enjoyment.  The  Mediaeval 
carvers  found  suggestions  from  many  sources  about  them, — from 
constructive  forms  as  indicated  in  the  March  Craftsman;  quite  a 
le"-itimate  course  when  we  consider  the  close  cooperation  and  remark- 
able versatility  of  the  workmen  of  the  time;  from  nature,  always 
treated  in  a  wood-like  way;  from  chivalry  and  its  varied  heraldic 
devices,  then  full  of  meaning,  but  now  of  no  significance;  from  the 
rich  symbolism  of  their  faith.  Many  of  their  carvings  served  the  same 
function  as  their  sculpture,  a  story  to  tell  or  a  moral  to  point;  but 
wrought  wdth  true  decorative  feehng,  flat  masses  in  simple  planes 
without  perspective,  the  figures  dressed  in  familiar  costumes  as  in  the 
choir  stalls  at  Amiens  and  St.  Denis.  Through  it  all  runs  a  little 
o-olden  thread  of  humor,  quaint  and  whimsical,  always  lovable.  And 
why  not  ?  To  carve  in  wood  is  a  joy  to  the  man  who  has  any  ideas 
worth  carving.  Why  should  not  the  pleasure  of  the  worker  bubble 
over  into  his  work  ?  Why  should  he  put  on  goggles  and  look  solemn 
when  he  is  having  such  a  good  time  ? 

LATER  on,  in  the  Renaissance,  what  might  be  termed  picture 
carving  was  developed  into  remarkable  productions  of  skill,  such 
as  the  story  of  the  crucifixion  told  within  a  form  no  larger  than 
a  walnut.  In  our  illustration  of  a  chest  we  come  to  that  fascinating 
type  of  work  made  during  the  transition  period, — the  panels  retain- 
ing much  of  the  Gothic  feehng,  yet  the  whole  frankly  within  the 
limits  of  the  Renaissance.  More  lavish  enrichment  is  the  keynote 
here ;  and  we  begin  to  have  a  feehng  that  one  man  carved  the  panels 
and  another  man  built  a  chest  for  them;  in  other  words,  the  carv- 
ing did  not  grow  up  with  the  construction  of  the  chest, — rather,  the 
chest  was  an  excuse  for  a  fine  bit  of  carvdng.  We  might  mislay  some 
of  the  ornament  and  never  miss  it,  or  shift  it  about  into  changed  posi- 
tions, for  it  is  no  longer  organic,  a  living  growth.  If  one  remembers 
the  choir  stalls  from  Perugia,  there  is  the  better  spirit  of  the  Renais- 
sance. These  workers  were  sensitive  to  every  subtle  refinement  of 
the  fines  and  forms  that  they  made  and  practiced  with  a  tool  craft  that 
knew  the  grain  and  twist  of  the  wood  by  heart. 

Not  only  in  furniture  did  carving  find  a  place,  but  in  the  larger 
forms  of  architectural  construction  as  well.  Wander  down  that  nar- 
row side  street  in  Lisieux  where  stands  the  House  of  the  Salamander, 

68 


SENOR   JOAQUIN    SOROLLA   V   BASTIDA 
OF   VALENCIA    AND    MADRID. 


S£ 


L 


"< 


\A 


THE  PURPOSE   OF  CARVING  IN  BUILDING 

battered  and  time-worn  though  it  is,  and  note  how  the  carved  forms 
took  shape  in  the  workers'  minds  from  the  huge  oak  beams  of  the 
timber  construction.  There  were  many  extensive  forests  of  oak  in  the 
country  about  and  timber  as  a  building  material  was  readily  secured. 
Now  a  sound  stick  of  oak  to  a  man  with  a  chisel  in  his  hand  and  a 
reasonable  amount  of  leisure  time  is  Uke  pie  to  a  hungry  man, — he 
cannot  resist  the  temptation  to  cut  into  it.  Thus  it  came  about  that 
from  the  timbered  construction  of  the  time  there  opened  another 
pathway  into  the  use  of  carving  as  organic  enrichment,  leading  in 
time  to  such  ornate  house  fronts  as  that  of  the  Maison  of  Diane  de 
Poiters  in  Rouen. 

And  so  we  might  carry  the  story  through  many  pages  of  history. 
We  find  that  canning  followed  upon  the  heels  of  sound  construction 
and  that  it  invariably  tells  us  of  the  time  and  place  in  which  it  was 
produced.  Away  in  the  Northland  is  one  type  of  work,  big,  simple 
and  flat,  redolent  of  the  salt  winds,  whispering  sagas  and  folk-lore. 
In  India  is  another  type  of  work,  an  intricate  maze  of  foliage  and 
jungle  creatures,  wrought  with  the  infinite  patience  that  reckons  not 
the  lapse  of  time.  And  still  again  in  Japan  another  kind  of  carving 
in  which  all  the  music  and  poetry  of  Nature  find  expression. 

But  whichever  way  we  turn  we  find  the  same  lessons  awaiting  us 
at  the  end: — First, — carving  should  be  vital,  an  organic  development 
from  construction;  it  is  only  part  of  a  design,  conceived  as  part  of  a 
whole.  The  use,  form,  function  of  the  object,  or  of  its  parts,  should 
furnish  the  clue  to  the  position  and  influence  the  character  of  the 
carving.  Second, — carving  should  be  intimate,  thought  out  by  one 
who  knows  the  carver's  tools,  who  can  think  in  terms  of  wood,  who 
knows  how  to  carve,  who  knows  every  twist  and  turn  of  the  wood 
grain.  Third, — carving  should  be  personal,  not  a  mere  scrap  of 
borrowed  finery.  By  personal  is  not  necessarily  meant  individual. 
It  is  personality  that  makes  Greek,  Greek,  or  Gothic,  Gothic.  We 
search  the  world  over,  look  everywhere  but  within  ourselves  to  find 
some  thought  to  render  with  our  tools,  everywhere  but  to  the  abun- 
dant fife  about  us  to  find  some  motif  or  suggestion. 


69 


CONVERTING  BACKYARDS  INTO  GARDENS: 
THE  HAPPINESS  AND  ECONOMY  FOUND  IN 
CULTIVATING  FLOWERS  AND  VEGETABLES: 
BY  MARY  RANKIN  CRANSTON 

lACKYARDS  and  beauty  have  not  usually  been  con- 
sidered synonymous  terms.  There  is  really  no  reason 
why  they  should  not  be,  however,  for  the  backyard 
offers  opportunities  equal  to  those  of  a  front  garden 
for  attractive  planting  which  will  express  the  person- 
ality of  the  owner.  The  backyard  naturally  must 
be  developed  in  a  practical  way,  for  its  uses  are  so 
distinctly  utilitarian,  but  happily  in  gardening  the  beautiful  and 
the  useful  may  harmonize.  Ihe  spring  sunshine  is  apt  to  remind 
the  householder  that  the  time  has  come  to  clear  up  and  beautify  his 
house  and  lot,  especially  the  backyard,  whose  unsightly  condition 
after  the  neglect  of  winter  calls  aloud  for  attention.  As  Kipling  tells 
the  Uttle  boy  in  the  "  Just  So"  song; 

"The  cure  for  this  ill 
Is  not  to  sit  still 

And  frowst  with  a  book  by  the  fire; 
But  to  get  a  large  hoe 
And  a  shovel  also. 
And  dig  till  you  gently  perspire." 

Before  undertaking  a  task  so  arduous,  it  is  well  first  to  be  sure 
that  the  "large  hoe  and  shovel  also"  will  give  the  best  results.  If 
the  backyard  is  in  the  condition  wliich  the  builders  of  a  new  house 
have  left  it,  it  is  probable  that  nothing  short  of  a  plow  \\ill  break  up 
the  ground  to  a  sufficient  depth  for  fertilization,  which  it  will  certainly 
need. 

WTien  this  is  done  and  the  soil  pulverized,  the  next  step  is  to  lay 
out  the  necessary  paths,  always  remembering  that  the  successful 
path  is  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points,  especially  bearin<jj 
m  mind  the  butcher  boy  and  ash  man,  who  N\ill  soon  mark  out  such 
paths  for  themselves.  Among  the  workmen's  debris  which  still 
litters  the  yard  there  may  be  some  red  bricks  out  of  wliich  a  herring- 
bone brick  walk  could  be  made,  the  prettiest  walk  in  the  world  for 
a  garden,  especially  if  it  has  a  border  of  box  or  close  clipped  privet 
along  either  side.  Some  enterprising  young  women  Avho  had  deter- 
mined to  have  an  old-fashioned  formal  garden  which  was  to  cost 
notliing  laid  out  such  a  herring-bone  walk  with  their  own  hands. 
Cinders,  good  cinders,  are  also  valuable  for  garden  paths. 

Grass  is  unfortunately  almost  the  greatest  of  luxuries,  nuicli  more 

70 


-r-  ■»":ii.;-:  ^ 


Courtesy  of  the  Atr 


•  of  Social 


WHAT    VINES  CAN    1)0    FOR    A    SIMPLE    HACKYARD  : 
PHOTOGRAPH      OF     THE     RESULT     OF     PRIZE     VINE 
CROWING    CONTEST    INAUGURATED  BY    THF.    CLEVE- . 
LAND   CLIFFS    IRON    CO. 


SHOWING  THE  BEAUTY  OF  GOOD  LAWNS   AND  VINE 
DRAPED    WALLS    IN    A   COMMON    GARDEN. 


<   < 


-■  id   Z 
^   r:  3 


SHOWING  IHi;  I  SE  OK   MORNING  GLORIES  TO   MAKE 
ATTRACTIVE   A    HUMBLE   BACKYARD. 


BACK^AR^  OF  A  BUSV  WORKMAN,  RENDERED 
EFFECTIVE  BY  LABOR  AND  THE  RIGHT  USE  OF  A 
VERY    LITTLE    MONEY. 


CONVERTING   BACKYARDS  INTO   GARDENS 

so  than  people  usually  think,  for  grass  seed  is  expensive  and  the 
preparation  of  the  ground  for  its  reception  is  more  difficult  than  for 
vegetable  or  flower  seeds. 

A  brand  new  garden  ought  first  to  have  an  ideal,  and  then  a  work- 
able design,  and  as  much  as  possible  it  should  also  be  a  place  for 
pleasant  remembrances,  reminders  of  other  spots  from  wliich  plants 
and  seeds  have  been  collected,  and  an  inheritor  of  the  good  tilings 
from  the  gardens  of  one's  friends.  Every  true  garden  lover  will 
rejoice  to  share  her  bulbs,  excess  of  seeds  and  roots  with  others.  A 
lady  who  is  now  raising  fruit  from  seeds  out  of  the  Pope's  Vatican 
garden  has  a  doubled  pleasure  in  watching  them  develop.  Bits  of 
ivy  collected  from  the  palace  of  Caligula  and  from  Tintena  Abbey 
are  now  growing  quite  contentedly  over  American  homes.  Seeds 
may  be  sent  by  mail  or  carried  by  friends  in  order  to  make  the  new 
garden  rich  with  pleasant  associations. 

As  one  man's  meat  is  another  man's  poison  so  the  despised  weeds 
of  one  spot  would  be  accounted  choice  plants  somewhere  else.  One 
of  the  Hawaiian  diplomats  carried  American  dandelions  to  Honolulu 
because  he  admired  them  so  much.  With  all  the  wonderful  profu- 
sion of  bloom  in  the  Hawaiian  Islands  there  were  no  dandelions. 

AFLO^\TER  garden  need  cost  almost  nothing,  for  if  there  is  no 
one  else  to  contribute  to  the  new  garden,  Nature  will  offer 
all  her  treasure  of  wood  and  roadside ;  a  wild  flower  garden  has 
great  possibilities  and  the  forest  has  young  trees  enough,  and  to  spare, 
to  give  to  all  who  ask.  A  clump  of  white  birches  or  a  young  beech 
is  worth  a  visit  to  the  wood-lot.  In  the  meanwhile  something  which 
will  grow  in  a  hurry  is  desirable  to  take  away  the  painful  newness 
of  the  backyard.  First  the  garden  should  be  planned  with  space 
enough  allowed  for  clothes  lines,  and  whatever  greensward  is  desired; 
garden  work  must  then  begin  in  Februaiy  or  early  March  when  sweet 
peas  should  be  planted.  Ten  cents'  worth  of  sweet  peas  will  make 
a  double  row  the  length  of  a  fifty-foot  garden,  and  will  answer  for 
a  division  fence  unless  there  is  a  fence  already  built,  which  they  could 
cover.  If  the  exposure  is  not  very  good,  a  straight  line  of  cannas  may 
be  used  effectively,  for  cannas  are  amon^  the  serviceable  things 
which  will  grow  almost  anywhere,  and  can  often  be  had  for  the  asking 
from  some  neighbor  who  is  probably  groaning  with  more  than  she 
knows  what  to  do  with.  Golden  glow  and  chrysanthemums  have 
the  same  tendency  to  overrun  all  creation  and  are  usually  an  em- 
barrassment of  riches  to  their  possessors. 

The  vegetable  garden,  if  it  is  only  as  big  as  a  pocket  handkerchief, 
will  furnish  half  a  dozen  kinds  of  vegetables  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar 

75 


CONVERTING  BACKYARDS  INTO  GARDENS 

and  some  hard  work.  A  parsley  bed  once  started  will  last  indefinitely 
if  covered  in  the  winter;  as  parsley  germinates  so  slowly,  lettuce  seed 
may  be  sown  with  it,  and  the  lettuce  will  grow  and  be  eaten  before 
the  parsley  needs  the  space.  Parsley,  lettuce,  bush  beans,  radishes, 
Swiss  chard,  beets  and  onions  would  grow  in  a  place  twenty-five  feet 
by  twelve,  and  for  another  quarter  of  a  dollar  and  an  equal  amount 
of  space,  one  could  raise  as  many  flowers,  taking  care  to  plant  those 
which  will  not  all  bloom  at  the  same  season. 

In  the  shady  spots  lilies  of  the  valley  ^vill  grow,  spread  and  bloom 
year  after  year.  If  they  are  not  possible,  another  little  journey  to 
the  woods  will  provide  a  perennial  garden  of  slender  fern  fronds 
which  will  last  forever.  Another  fine  asset  for  the  shady  spot — the 
most  perplexing  problem  for  the  amateur  gardener — is  calladium  or 
"elephant's  ears;"  they  are  not  very  cheap,  costing  as  much  as  fifteen 
cents  a  bulb  sometimes,  but  half  a  dozen  bulbs  will  make  a  stately 
group  in  some  dreary  corner  where  even  the  optimistic  nasturtium 
would  give  up  the  fight  for  life. 

Never  forget  the  best  friend  of  the  forlorn  garden  plot  and  the 
impecunious  pocketbook — nasturtiums.  One  can  have  them  in  pro- 
fusion for  ten  cents  and  in  riotous  masses  for  twenty-five  cents,  climb- 
ing ones  to  cover  the  unsightly  places,  and  little  bush  ones  for  the 
empty  flower  beds.  They  are  sturdy,  independent  flowers,  too,  and 
will  just  about  take  care  of  themselves.  A  real  city  backyard  garden 
I  knew  grew  a  profusion  of  roses,  practically  defying  all  gardening 
laws,  for  the  sun  was  on  one  side  of  the  yard  only  until  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing and  on  the  other  after  three  in  the  afternoon,  yet  there  were  roses 
enough  to  deck  the  house  in  masses  for  a  June  wedding.  Just  why 
they  grow  so  wonderfully  well  under  no  better  conditions,  no  one 
knows  except  that  there  seems  to  be  an  understanding  between  plants 
and  some  plant  lovers  which  has  not  yet  been  quite  explained. 

YOU  may  prove  to  a  busy  brain  worker  that  making  garden  is  as 
good  for  brain  fag  as  a  course  at  Muldoon's,  but  when  once  you 
have  persuaded  him  to  begin,  it  will  be  from  no  hope  of  advantage 
but  from  sheer  love  of  the  good  brown  earth  that  he  will  keep  at  it; 
for  the  pull  of  the  soil,  inherited  from  many  generations,  is  in  most  of 
us  and  gardening  is  an  appetite  wliich  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on. 

A  garden  spot  in  the  city's  grimness  has  a  real  dollars  and  cents 
value,  too,  for  scarcely  any  mundane  toiler  who  must  live  where 
transit  facilities  and  his  inelastic  pocketbook  permit  him  but  will 
thankfully  rush  to  pay  his  rent  where  there  is  a  breathing  spot  of 
greenery. 

In  London  there  is  a  depressing  row  of  uniform,  jail-like  houses, 

76 


CON^^RTING  BACKYARDS  INTO   GARDENS 

noticeably  gloomy  even  for  Bloomsbury.  Nevertheless  they  are 
always  well-rented  because,  behind  the  houses,  the  Duke  of  Bedford, 
who  owns  the  neighborhood,  has  reserved  a  strip  of  land  the  length 
of  the  block  which  he  keeps  laid  out  and  planted  ^vith  annuals  and 
hardy  perennials. 

One  impassioned  gardener  with  an  unsightly  yard  in  a  crowded 
street  of  a  large  town  laid  out  a  garden  forty  feet  square.  Around 
the  sides  she  had  a  border  two  feet  wide  of  lettuce  and  radishes. 
Down  either  side  she  had  an  oblong  bed  of  onions,  beans  and  beets, 
and  in  the  center  a  flower  garden  with  zinnias,  asters,  poppies,  balsam, 
phlox,  bachelor's  buttons,  marigolds  and  nasturtiums.  As  it  was 
surrounded  by  an  ugly  fence,  corn  was  planted  around  the  sides  for 
a  screen.  All  of  the  seeds  for  this  garden  cost  sixteen  cents,  and  the 
simple  directions  for  its  care  were  to  fertilize  the  soil,  water  well 
morning  and  evening  and  weed  all  the  time. 

One  garden  plot  in  the  center  of  a  small  city  is  worth  considering, 
because  of  its  practical  arrangement.  It  is  only  fifty-five  feet  wide. 
The  actual  garden  space  in  the  rear  amounts  to  about  fifty  feet  square 
and  in  this  space  there  is  room  for  currants,  raspberries,  strawberries, 
rhubarb  and  asparagus,  which  are  perennial  and  after  being  once 
planted  will  continue  to  }neld  with  care  and  fertilizing  without  in- 
creased expense  for  many  years.  Twenty-five  feet  square  is  left  for 
annual  vegetables,  which  can  be  planted  each  year  at  a  cost  of  two 
or  three  dollars,  supposing  one  were  to  buy  tomato,  egg  and  pepper 
plants  already  started;  if  seeds  are  used,  of  course,  the  cost  vnll  be 
less.  By  carefully  using  all  vacant  spaces  and  planting  lettuce, 
parsley  and  carrots,  which  are  feathery  and  effective  for  that  purpose, 
for  borders,  as  many  as  ten  or  twelve  kinds  of  vegetables  can  be 
placed  in  this  small  space.  Beans,  eggplants,  peppers,  onions, 
spinach,  peas,  beets,  lettuce,  parsley,  radishes,  carrots  and  Swiss 
chard  are  easy,  quick  growers.  Tomatoes,  pole  beans  and  corn 
would  be  equally  practical,  but  would  exclude  other  vegetables. 
Many  people  do  not  know  that  beets  can  be  cut  down  and  used  for 
greens  with  advantage  to  the  beet  root  and  to  the  consumer,  and  that 
Swiss  chard  is  thoroughly  successful  in  small  gardens  because  it  will 
grow  again  after  it  is  cut;  thus  it  can  take  the  place  of  spinach  for 
the  hot  months  when  spinach  will  do  nothing.  Currant  bushes 
which  can  be  kept  well  trimmed  make  a  good  dividing  hedge  and  a 
profitable  one,  as  well.  One  gardening  enterprise  w^hicli  proves  how 
profitably  space  can  be  utilized  }ielded  enough  currants  to  make 
sixty  glasses  of  jelly,  with  fresh  i'ruit  to  spare  and  share  with  the 
neighbors,  and  all  from  twelve  well  cared  for  bushes.  Raspberries 
which  are  too  trailing  for  a  hedge  are  most  effective  as  a  covering 

77 


CONVERTING  BACKYARDS  INTO   GARDENS 

for  an  unsightly  fence.  An  effective  use  of  simple  pergolas  and 
trellises  will  beautify  a  small  place  and  afford  support  and  help  in 
screenino-  off  little  out-of-door  nooks  for  the  hammock  or  the  tea 
table,  fn  the  fifty-five-foot  lot  plan,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  a 
grape  trellis  supports  sixteen  grape  \nnes.  In  another  corner  some 
grapes  wliich  had  proved  unsuccessful  for  eating  yielded  last  year 
one  hundred  glasses  of  grajie  jelly  and  that  with  almost  no  culture. 
In  this  same  garden  plot  there  were  six  fruit  trees,  beds  of  roses  and 
lilies,  with  space  for  annuals.  A  sundial  w^as  made  by  one  of  the 
family,  the  encasing  box  being  wood  filled  with  concrete. 

Probably  there  is  no  more  ideally  lovely  vine  in  the  world  than 
the  o;rape,  and  a  little  pruning  and  care  will  make  it  a  dense  and 
beautiful  shelter  from  the  sun  and  from  the  street's  publicity,  while 
of  all  the  odors  in  Nature's  pharmacy  there  is  none  so  elusively  sweet 
as  that  of  young  grape  shoots  in  early  summer.  While  the  grapes 
are  o-etting  their  start,  their  trelhses  may  be  covered  for  the  first  sum- 
mer with  madeira  or  gourd  \nnes,  taking  care  not  to  plant  them  too 
thickly  lest  you  smother  the  young  grape  vines. 

Gourd  vines  grow  very  rapidly,  as  Jonah's  did  of  old.  One  gar- 
den which  had  a  gourd  \'ine  growing  near  the  street  tempted  all  the 
neighbors  to  come  and  beg  for  a  gourd  which  they  marked  with 
initials,  cut  with  a  penknife  in  the  young  green  cups.  Wlien  fall 
came  and  the  vines  succumbed  to  the  frost  the  neighbors  arrived  to 
collect  their  property  of  yellow  gourd  cups.  There  is  notliing  which 
better  sociahzes  a  neighborhood  than  garuening. 

Only  Jack's  bean  stalk  can  rival  Jonah's  gourd  in  rapid  growth. 
There  is  a  cUmbing  bean  which  is  not  good  to  eat  but  beautiful  to  see; 
the  leaves  of  it  shade  from  green  into  softest  brown  with  purplish 
undertones,  the  pods  are  long  and  brownish  purple  and  the  blossoms 
are  exquisite  tones  of  violet  shading  to  brown.  There  are  other 
gorgeous  beans,  some  with  scarlet  and  some  with  white  blossoms 
which  are  good  for  food,  and  pretty  and  rapid  of  growth.  For  quick 
screening  of  bare  fences  or  ugly  objects  nothing  is  better  than  the 
morning-glory.  It  responds  at  once  to  the  least  bit  of  care  and  will 
soon  transform  an  unattractive  spot  into  a  thing  of  beauty  for  all 
summer. 

HAPPY  is  the  tenant  who  falls  heir  to  the  home  of  a  garden  lover 
who  has  planted  rhubarb  or  asparagus,  fruit  trees  or  grapes. 
An  asparagus  bed  is  a  mine  of  riches  in  May  and  June,  and  old 
apple  trees  will  benefit  an  entire  generation.  There  is  so  little  we  can  do 
in  this  world  which  is  at  all  liKely  to  be  remembered  to  our  credit 
after  us  that  we  might  at  least,  like  Johnny  Appleseed,  plant  fruit  trees. 

78 


CON^TRTIXG   BACKYARDS  INTO   GARDENS 

I  have  heard  of  two  old  and  ralher  neglected  trees  which  in  nineteen 
hundred  and  seven  bore  nine  barrels  of  hand-picked  apples  and  half 
as  many  barrels  of  windfalls. 

A  concrete  dial  is  a  very  pretty  decoration  for  any  slightly  formal 
garden.  It  takes  the  soft  weather  stains  well  and  serves  as  a  fixed 
center  for  keeping  the  divergent  paths  straight  and  orderly.  In  laying 
out  a  circular  garden  as  the  Japanese  do,  a  dial  would  make  a  very 
good  axis.  Flowers,  like  four-o'clocks,  which  bloom  at  stated  times, 
should  surround  a  sundial;  it  is  said  that  Linnteus  could  tell  the  time 
of  day  from  his  window  by  the  blossoms  wliich  were  open  around  his 
dial,  but,  practically,  conventional  flowers  like  tulips  help  to  keep  the 
regularity  of  line  which  saves  a  garden  from  looking  tangled.  Bulb 
beds  have  also  the  advantage  of  variety.  With  a  couple  of  packages 
of  seeds,  the  tulip  bed  will  be  one  of  poppies  in  July  and  of  asters  in 
September. 

If  the  town  lot  has  some  natural  advantage  like  a  depi'ession,  a 
little  study  can  make  the  garden  charming.  A  sunken  garden  may 
need  verj'  little  grading,  if  Nature  helps  out  a  bit,  and  a  rise  of  ground 
at  the  back  means  an  easily  possible  terrace  with  steps  and  a  tea  arbor 
enlarging  the  piazza  possibilities  of  a  small  place. 

Less  and  less  does  the  busy  American  woman  desire  to  live  on 
her  front  porch,  and  rear  porches  demand  a  pleasant  outlook  and  are 
helping  to  do  away  with  the  unsio;htly  backyard.  There  is  almost 
no  condition  which  cannot  be  made  effective,  and  before  the  incon- 
siderate iconoclast  gets  the  yard  to  level  it  off,  it  will  be  well  to  see  if 
it  cannot  be  used  as  it  is  with  better  results. 

An  abandoned  quarry  turned  into  a  wild  flower  garden  is  not 
more  remarkable  than  the  use  made  of  an  old  barn  site.  The  latter 
was  on  a  piece  of  rising  ground  and  three  sides  of  the  foundation 
were  left  up  as  a  protection  from  the  winds.  The  old  walls  were 
covered  with  berry  bushes  trained  against  them  and  the  floor  of  earth 
was  spaded  up  and  planted.  The  exposure  was  good  and  vegetables 
grew  there  earlier  and  later  than  in  less  protected  places.  A  red 
brick  wall  at  the  back  of  one's  garden  is  also  a  boon.  Even  the  mat- 
ter of  the  driveway  may  make  or  mar  the  house,  while  the  most  un- 
promising house  conceivable  may  be  saved,  or  at  least  bettered,  by  a 
tasteful  planning  of  garden,  walks  and  walls. 


79 


THE  VALUE  OF  PERMANENT  ARCHITEC- 
TURE AS  A  TRUTHFUL  EXPRESSION  OF 
NATIONAL  CHARACTER:  BY  THE  EDITOR 

"Great  nations  write  their  autobiography  in  three  manuscripts :  the  book  of  their 
words;  the  book  of  their  deeds,  and  the  book  of  their  art.  Not  one  of  these  books  can 
be  understood  unless  we  read  the  other  two,  but  of  the  three,  the  only  one  quite 
trustworthy  is  the  last.  The  acts  of  a  nation  may  be  triumphant  by  its  good  fortune, 
and  its  words  mighty  by  the  genius  of  a  few  of  its  children,  but  its  art  can  be  supreme 
only  by  the  general  gifts  and  common  sympathies   of  the  race."— John   RusKnf. 

\OTHING  short  of  national  honesty  can  produce  a 
permanent  and  characteristic  national  architecture, 
Decause   the   element   of   sincerity   which   makes   for 

Eermanence  comes  only  from  the  expression  in  our 
uildings  of  direct  thought,  based  upon  the  funda- 
mental principles  which  underlie  all  art  expression, 
but  beyond  that,  governed  only  by  the  necessity  to 
satisfy  our  own  individual  needs  and  to  express  by  this  means  our 
character  as  a  people.  The  fundamental  principles  of  architecture 
are  very  simple.  As  Louis  Sullivan  puts  it,  they  consist  of  "three 
elementary  forms,  namely,  the  pier,  the  lintel  and  the  arch.  These  are 
the  three,  the  only  three  letters  from  which  has  been  expanded  the 
Architectural  Art  as  a  great  and  superb  language  wherewith  Man 
has  expressed,  through  the  generations,  the  changing  drift  of  his 
thoughts.  Thus,  throughout  the  past  and  present,  each  building 
stands  as  a  social  act.  In  such  act  we  read  that  which  cannot  escape 
our  analysis,  for  it  is  indelibly  fixed  in  the  building,  namely,  the 
nature  of  the  thoughts  of  the  individual  and  the  people  whose  image 
the  building  is  or  was." 

From  these  three  elements  then, — the  pier,  the  lintel  and  the 
arch, — which  may  be  said  to  form  the  alphabet  of  architecture  as 
well  as  the  basis  of  all  construction,  has  been  developed  the  building 
art  of  the  whole  world.  All  the  variations  to  which  we  refer  as 
"style"  have  come  from  the  application  of  these  basic  principles  to 
the  erection  of  buildings  to  meet  individual  needs,— whether  for  simple 
shelter  from  the  elements,  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  or  as  an  expres- 
sion in  enduring  stone  of  the  noblest  aspirations  and  ideals.  From 
this  beginning  has  sprung  as  many  great  architectural  styles  as  there 
are  great  peoples,  and  because  the  forms  which  have  crystallized  into 
these  styles  were  the  outcome  of  honest  and  direct  thought,  coupled 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  construction,  these  styles  endure 
today. 

We  are  too  apt  to  think  of  architecture  as  the  product  of  past  ages 
and  to  regard  the  buildings  which  stand  for  all  time  as  expressions  of 
supreme  beauty,  as  being  a  species  of  miracle,  the  like  of  which  is 
never  seen  in  this  prosaic  age.     Therefore,  according  to  this  point 

80 


Hunt  &  Grey,  Architects,  Los  Angeles.  Cal. 


Hunt  cf  Grey,  .Architects.  Los  .'\tigeles.  Cal. 


TWO  CHARACTERISTIC  HOUSES  FROM  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA;  ONE 
SHOWING  TYPICAL  SHINCLE  CONSTRUCTION,  THE  OTHER,  CEMENT 
WITH  TILE  ROOF.  BOTH  PERMANENT  IN  SENSE  OF  FITNESS  OF 
UESICN   AND  RIGHT    USE   OF  MATERIALS. 


THE  VALUE  OF  PERMANENT  ARCHITECTURE 

of  view,  all  we  can  do  is  to  imitate  them  and  to  adapt  to  our  own 
needs,  so  far  as  we  can,  a  form  of  building  that  grew  out  of  the  needs 
of  a  different  people  whose  life  was  carried  on  under  widely  different 
conditions.  Until  this  viewpoint  is  generally  acknowledged  to  be 
wrong,  there  is  no  hope  for  the  growth  of  a  healthy,  straightforward 
and  therefore  permanent  architecture  which  shall  definitely  belong 
to  us  as  a  people.  This  is  why  we  are  so  disposed  to  rejoice  over 
each  evidence  of  direct  thought  and  a  simple  return  to  the  first  prin- 
ciples as  expressed  in  the  building  art,  for  it  seems  to  indicate  that 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  throwing  oft',  not  only  our  architectural  shackles, 
but  some  of  the  other  false  standards  which  hitherto  have  retarded  our 
development. 

Beauty  in  any  form  is  one  of  the  essential  elements  of  the  expres- 
sion of  sincere  and  vigorous  thought.  It  is  not  the  exclusive  possession 
of  any  one  people  or  any  one  age,  nor  does  it  express  itself  within  the 
limits  prescribed  by  any  label  which  may  be  put  on  it.  When  you 
strip  it  of  all  the  earmarks  of  period  or  nationality  and  bring  together 
for  study  and  comparison  the  achievements  in  various  forms  of  art 
which  have  meant  the  presence  of  beauty  in  the  world,  you  will  find 
that  the  principle  underlying  it  all  is  the  common  inheritance  of 
humanity,  because  it  is  a  part  of  nature  and  of  life.  Therefore  in  all 
periods  which  produced  anything  that  we  of  today  consider  worth 
copying,  the  people  thought  directly  and  in  the  simplest  terms,  mak- 
ing their  own  application,  according  to  their  own  need,  of  the  prin- 
ciples which  are  universal.  The  fact  that  most  of  the  styles  we  at- 
tempt to  copy  date  back  for  hundreds  of  years  does  not  argue  that 
those  ages  were  especially  prolific  in  the  invention  of  beautiful  forms, 
or  that  the  living  spirit  of  beauty  has  vanished  from  the  world;  but 
that  the  men  who  unconsciously  created  those  wonderful  things  which 
we  revere  did  so  because  they  thought  directly  and  fearlessly,  express- 
ing their  thought  in  the  work  of  their  hands.  The  fact  that  it  has  en- 
dured and  has  been  considered  good  for  all  these  years  proves  that 
the  people  first  lived,  then  thought  and  then  builded.  When  we  learn 
to  get  back,  through  all  forms,  to  the  same  fundamental  principles 
upon  which  these  old  builders  worked,  we  also  will  do  something  that 
shall  last  as  an  enduring  record  of  this  country  and  this  age. 

ONE  of  the  best  examples  we  have  of  this  element  of  perma- 
nence is  found  in  the  architecture  of  the  Japanese,  which  has 
persisted  for  twelve  hundred  years  with  but  little  change, 
because  it  has  been  the  product  of  just  such  fundamental  thinking. 
In  the  earlier  period  of  Japanese  civilization,  the  conditions  of  national 
life  were  not  so  widely  diti'ei-ent  from  our  own.     Japan  was  a  new 

83 


THE   ^  ALUE   OF   PERMANENT   ARCHITECTURE 

t'ountry,  peopled  by  au  alien  race  which  brought  with  it  standards 
and  ideals  that  were  the  outcome  of  an  older  civilization.  History 
tells  us  that  at  first  Chinese  influence  predominated  in  the  whole 
national  life  of  Japan  and  that  Japanese  architecture  was  definitely 
imitative  of  Chinese.  But  as  the  national  spirit  developed  and  the 
race  "found  itself"  as  a  separate  entity,  the  period  of  imitation  passed 
by  its  own  accord,  and.  Jiaving  assimilated  thoroughly  the  best  of 
what  China  had  to  oii'er.  the  Japanese,  using  this  knowledge  as  a 
foundation,  began  to  get  back  to  first  principles  and  to  apply  these 
to  the  meeting  of  their  own  needs  and  the  expression  of  their  own 
spirit  as  a  peo|)le. 

There  are  abundant  evidences  that  already  we  arc  coming  to  this 
turning  point  in  our  own  national  and  artistic  evolution,  for  we  are 
beginning  to  outgrow  the  leading  strings  of  tradition  and  to  show  a 
tendency  to  use  the  great  achievements  of  former  times  as  a  source 
of  inspiration  for  equally  honest  and  direct  achievement  of  our  own. 
Our  architecture  has  been  chaotic  and  lacking  in  significance  because 
our  national  life  and  thought  also  has  been  chaotic.  We  have  art- 
lessly copied  the  things  that  have  withstood  the  test  of  time  without 
stopping  to  inquire  why  these  things  maintained  their  integrity 
throughout  hundreds  of  years,  while  our  own  attempts  to  reproduce 
or  adapt  them  were  confused  and  evanescent.  As  Louis  Sullivan 
says,  "as  we  are,  so  are  our  buildings."  He  says  plainly  that  our 
architecture  is  confused  and  not  sure  of  itself,  because  it  is  ashamed 
to  be  natural  and  honest.  Therefore  it  lacks  a  guiding  principle  and 
following,  as  it  does,  after  tradition  instead  of  turning  directly  to 
nature  for  insjnration,  it  has  in  it  no  joy  of  creation, — no  fulness  of 
life, — lacking  these  qualities  to  just  the  extent  tluit  they  are  lacking 
in  our  lives. 

IN  THE  building  of  our  homes  the  basic  principles  that  we  should 
cling  to,  through  all  varieties  of  expression,  are  primarily  those 
that  affect  our  physical,  mental  and  moral  well-being.  When 
we  start  to  build  a  house,  our  first  care  should  be  to  see  that  it  is 
situated  in  })leasant  and  healthful  surroundings  and  that  it  is  so 
planned  as  to  give  ample  and  comfoi-table  accommodation,  plenty 
of  sunlight  and  fresh  air,  good  drainage  and  all  the  hygienic  con- 
ditions that  insure  healthful  living.  When  we  do  this  we  begin  at 
the  right  end,  basing  what  we  are  to  do  upon  certain  fundamental 
necessities,  keeping  these  constantly  in  view,  and  striving  to  meet 
each  one  in  the  best  j)ossible  manner.  The  rest  follows  as  a  matter 
of  course,  providing  we  are  honest  enough  to  adjust  the  thing  we 
need  and  desire  to  llie  resources  tliat  we  find  we  can  command  when 

84 


< 


THE   VALUE   OF  PEiniANENT   ARCHITECTURE 

we  look  the  probleiu  of  living  squarely  in  the  face.  Starting  from  this 
basis,  there  is  little  danger  that  we  will  go  far  aKeld  in  the  effort  to 
satisfy  a  swarm  of  unnecessary  needs  created  by  artificial  conditions. 
But  when  we  decide  to  build  a  new  house  that  shall  be  handsome  and 
imposing  and  endeavor  to  make  it  a  good  cxani]>le  of  the  Classic  style, 
say,  or  the  Gothic,  Italian  or  French  Renaissance,  we  start  at  the 
wrong  end,  disregarding  our  real  needs  and  taking  into  account  main- 
ly a  certain  stereotyped  set  of  artificial  requirements.  In  other 
words,  we  begin  our  work  hampered  by  a  list  of  ironclad  lestrictions 
that  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  home  we  really  need  and  wish  to 
build,  instead  of  frankly  acknowledging  a  series  of  healthy  and  actual 
needs  that  must  be  met  in  the  simplest  and  most  direct  way  and  are 
therefore  an  insjjiration  to  the  production  of  a  permanently  satisfac- 
tory dwelling.  When  we  lack  this  inspiration,  and  the  knowledgt^ 
of  essentials  that  helps  us  to  cari-y  it  out,  we  work  uncertainly  and 
lifelessly  because  we  are  merely  taking  for  granted  the  rules  laid 
down  in  architectural  books,  and  are  thinking  with  other  men's 
thoughts. 

One  effect  of  planning  our  homes  after  the  thought  of  other 
j)eople  rather  than  our  own  is  seen  in  the  constant  changing  and 
remodeling  of  ovu-  houses.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  a  house 
built  five  years  ago  according  to  the  prevailing  fashion  at  that  time 
is  considered  by  many  people  to  be  out  of  date  this  year  antl  not  (piite 
up  to  the  mark  unless  it  can  be  remodeled  so  as  to  supply  the  latest 
improvements  or  the  newest  style  of  decoration.  It  is  amazing  to 
see  how  people  who  are  otherwise  honest  and  direct  arc  apparently 
content  to  live  in  houses  that  ex])ress  anything  rather  than  these 
qualities, — houses  that  need  remodeling  every  little  while  because 
the  orijiinal  thouoht  in  them  was  on  a  false  basis  and  therefore  unsat- 
isfying, — and  seem  never  to  realize  the  cause  of  their  unrest.  The 
reason  seems  to  be  that  most  people  regard  art  as  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  hidden  mystery,  requiring  long  training  and  special  apti- 
tude even  to  comjnehend,  and  therefore  to  be  left  in  the  hands  of 
experts  whose  productions  are  taken  on  trust  as  being  necessarily  the 
right  thing.  With  such  an  idea  nothing  Ijnt  impermancnce  could 
result,  for  the  reason  that  a  ready-made  house  ])lanncd  by  .someone 
else  after  the  dictates  of  what  is  in  vogue  at  the  time,  has  in  it  no  trace 
of  the  owner's  individuality  and  only  indirectly  meets  his  needs. 

WE  HOLD  that  everyone  about  to  build  a  hou.se  that  he  intends 
to  be  his  home  should  have  the  benefit  of  the  best  advice  that 
can   be  obtained,   but  that  the  architect,   however  able  and 
experienced,  should  act  rather  in  the  capacity  of  an  advisor  than  that 

80 


THE   VALUE   OF  PERMANENT  ARCHITECTURE 

of  a  dictator.  The  objection  to  tliis  would  naturally  be  that  the 
average  layman  knows  nothing  of  the  subject  and  that  the  part  of 
wisdom  is  for  him  to  leave  it  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  man  who  has 
made  it  a  life  study.  That  is  just  where  the  trouble  lies.  If  we  want 
buildings  that  express  our  own  individuality  and  meet  our  own  needs, 
it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  the  owner  should  be  sufficiently  familiar 
with  the  essentials  of  what  he  requires  to  cooperate  intelligently  with 
the  architect  in  the  production  of  a  house  that  should,  when  it  is 
finished,  be  fitted  to  stand  for  the  rest  of  his  life  and  to  descend  un- 
impaired and  unaltered  to  his  children. 

The  first  things  to  be  considered  in  the  building  of  such  a  home 
are  the  position,  mcome  and  occupation  of  the  owner,  and  the  pro- 
viding of  surroundings  that  seem  pleasantest  and  most  natural  in 
relation  to  the  life  of  the  family.  With  regard  to  the  initial  outlay, 
this  would  depend  largely  upon  the  nature  of  the  owner's  income 
and  whether  or  not  it  may  reasonably  be  depended  upon  to  continue 
at  about  the  same  level.  The  creation  of  an  expense  that  threatens 
to  become  a  burden  in  hard  times  is  always  a  dangerous  thing,  and 
this  is  especially  true  when  it  comes  to  the  building  of  a  home,  which 
should  be  a  refuge  from  the  cares  of  business  life  rather  than  an  addi- 
tion to  them.  While  it  is  undeniably  true  that  economy  is  often  best 
served  by  getting  a  good  thing  rather  than  a  cheap  one  at  the  start,  it  is 
also  true  that  the  more  extravagantly  and  luxuriously  we  build  in  the 
beginning,  the  harder  the  house  is  to  keep  up,  for  there  is  the  wear 
and  tear  to  be  considered  and  the  matter  of  heating,  lighting  and  caring 
for  each  additional  room.  The  main  consideration  is  to  spend 
wisely  the  money  that  can  be  set  aside  for  the  building  and  to  do  each 
thing  so  that  it  will  stay  done.  Fortunately,  the  question  of  cost 
is  not  of  the  first  importance,  for  all  that  is  essential  may  be  had  within 
the  limits  of  almost  any  reasonable  sum  that  we  care  to  devote  to 
that  purpose. 

If  a  house  be  designed  so  that  its  lines  and  proportions  are  simple, 
dignified  and  in  harmony  with  the  surroundings,  and  built  with  such 
care  that  it  will  be  sure  of  its  natural  lease  of  life,  there  is  no  question 
about  its  value  as  a  permanent  investment,  whether  the  amount  in- 
vested be  large  or  small.  If  the  interior  be  arranged  so  that  every 
inch  of  space  is  utilized  and  the  housework  made  as  easy  as  possible, 
— so  that  the  housewife  can  afford  to  ignore  the  ever-present  domestic 
problem, — and  the  rooms  large  enough  for  freedom  and  restfulness, 
the  house  will  be  a  comfortable  place  to  live  in.  And  lastly,  if  the 
structural  features  be  interesting,  the  division  of  wall  spaces  well 
planned  and  the  color  scheme  mellow,  friendly  and  harmonious,  no 
costly  furnishings  are  needed  to  make  it  beautiful.     Beauty  is  never 

90 


THE  VALUE   OF  PERMANENT  ARCHITECTURE 

gained  by  making  an  inexpensive  house  in  imitation  of  a  costly  one, 
and  our  besetting  architectural  sin  as  a  nation  has  been  the  attempt 
to  do  this  very  thing.  There  are  many  evidences  now  that  we  are 
beginning  to  grow  wiser,  and  not  the  least  of  these  is  found  in  the 
number  of  dwellings,  some  large  and  costly,  some  small,  modest  aa*i 
inexpensive,  but  each  beautiful  in  its  own  way  and  each  an  honest 
expression  of  American  life,  that  are  springing  up  in  every  part  of 
the  country. 

The  permanent  architecture  of  a  country  has  its  beginning  in  only 
one  place, — the  dwelling, — because  only  there  is  there  room  for  the 
honest  expression  of  personal  tastes  and  needs.  Once  given  the  idea 
that  good  things  grow  naturally  from  direct  thinking,  the  progressive 
architect  will  inevitably  use  the  same  methods  in  getting  at  the  char- 
acter of  the  larger  buildings  meant  for  public  use.  But  these  always 
follow  the  trail  that  has  been  blazed  by  the  builders  of  homes.  There 
are  a  number  of  men  in  this  country  now  who  are  doing  gallant  work 
in  blazing  these  trails,  because  they  have  the  courage  to  cast  aside 
precedent,  tradition  and  other  restrictions  and  to  handle  each  separate 
problem  in  the  most  direct  way.  Several  of  these  pioneers,  in  re- 
sponse to  our  request  for  illustrations  of  this  article,  have  sent  us 
what  they  consider  good  examples  of  their  own  work,  and  these  we 
reproduce  here.  As  will  be  seen,  the  houses  range  from  large  and 
luxurious  country  seats  to  simple  cottages  and  farmhouses,  yet  all  alike 
serve  to  illustrate  our  meaning  when  we  talk  of  permanent  architec- 
ture, because  in  all  are  seen  the  dignity  of  line  and  proportion  and 
the  right  placing  of  structural  features  that  make  a  house  satisfying 
from  the  day  it  is  built  until  it  falls  to  pieces  from  old  age.  Also  it 
will  be  noticed  that  these  houses  are  free  from  all  excrescences,  eccen- 
tricities of  shape  and  unnecessary  ornamentation,  all  of  wliich  mar 
the  beauty,  add  to  the  cost  and  shorten  the  life  of  any  house.  In 
fact,  each  and  every  one  of  them  carry  out  to  a  marked  degree  what 
we  have  said  concerning  the  essential  elements  of  a  permanent  archi- 
tecture, and  form  the  best  proof  that  it  is  beginning  to  take  shape 
among  us  as  a  genuine  expression  of  American  art. 


91 


THE  REGENERATION  OF  BEACON  HILL: 
HOW  BOSTON  GOES  ABOUT  CIVIC  IM- 
PROVEMENT 

LITTLE  grouj)  of  i3o.sU)ii  c-iti/.cn.s.  working  (juietly 
and  unobtrusively  to  improve  tlu'ir  own  property  and 
the  nei<ihborlioo(l  Ivinc;  around  it,  seem  to  liave  hit 
upon  the  most  (hreet  and  praetical  way  of  bringing 
about  at  least  one  phase  of'  eivie  reform.  I  hey  are 
not  spending  fortunes,  nor  are  they  eti'ecting  any 
(h'astie  changes,  l)ut  l>it  by  bit  they  are  redeeming  that 
part  of  okl  Boston  lying  between  the  lower  slope  of  Beacon  Hill  and 
the  Charles  River  to  something  like  its  old  desiral)ility  as  a  residence 
nei'diborhood.  This  part  of  the  West  End  had  long  been  given  over 
to  stables  and  tenements  which,  until  recently,  seemetl  to  have  come 
to  stay.  Most  of  the  fine  old  houses,  some  of  them  dating  from 
Colonial  days,  were  elbowed  by  dirty  and  unsanitary  shacks,  and 
the  minor  streets,  such  as  Acorn  Street.  River  Street  and  Lime  Street, 
were  chiefiy  occupied  by  stablemen  and  negroes  and  the  servants 
of  people  living  on  Beacon  Street.  The  whole  neighborhood  took 
its  name  and  its  character  from  "Horse  Chestnut"  Street,  which  has 
so  long  been  the  name  for  Chestnut  Street  that  it  is  hardly  recogniz- 
able without  its  prefix. 

The  building  of  the  new  river  embankment  created  a  possibility 
of  redeeming  the  neighborhood,  if  only  the  projierty  owners  would 
take  an  interest.  That  they  have  done  so.  aiul  to  good  purpose,  is 
shown  by  the  result,  and  yet  it  is  doubtful  if  each  man  has  spent  more 
than  a  few  hundreds,  or  at  most  a  few  thousands,  (jf  dollars  in  bringing 
his  own  property  into  harmony  with  the  traditions  of  dignified  old 
Boston.  One  of  the  most  active  of  the  reformers  is  an  energetic 
and  progressive  architect.  Frank  A.  Bourne,  who  began  with  his  own 
house  on  River  Street,  changing  a  commonplace  buililing  into  an 
interesting  and  delightful  dwelling,  and  from  that  has  extended  his 
work  until  it  appears  throughout  the  whole  neighborhood,  not  so 
much  in  the  form  of  new  or  entirely  remodeled  hou.ses  as  in  old  houses 
renovated  and  given  individuality  by  a  group  of  windows  here,  a 
Colonial  doorway  there,  a  ((uaint  bay  or  an  unusual  entrance,  which 
restored  to  it  the  character  of  the  good  Colonial  architecture  ihat 
always  has  belonged  to  Boston. 

These  changes  affect  most  markedly  the  general  charac-ler  of  the 
streets  in  this  neighborhood,  for  instead  of  shabby  and  common})lace 
W'ooden  or  brick  fronts  with  the  usual  doors  and  windows,  the  fa<ades 
now  show  any  number  of  quaint  and  interesting  characteristics. 
Here  a  door  is  dee|)ly   I'ecessed  after  the  old   Colonial   slylc  and  is 

92 


IVm.  L.  Price,  Architect,  Philadelphia. 


Reed  &  Slet 


TWO  WIDELY  DIFFERENT  EXPRESSIONS  OF  THE 
SAME  ESSENTIAL  PRINCIPLES  OF  PERMANENCE  IN 
DESIGN     AND    USE    OF    MATERIALS. 


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CRAFTSMEN'  STUDIOS  OX  LIME  STREET,  BOSTON  — 
KdH.MKKI.V  SLIME  ALLEY.  RECONSTRLXTfD  UY 
FRANK    A.    IKU'RNE,    ARl  IIITECT. 


--*»*««^'" 


lil  ll.l]l.N(,.S  ON  KIVKK  STKEET,  BOSTON,  WIIU.H  HAVE 
I;}-:KN  RENIIEm:il  I'.KAUTIKI.L  and  CnMIORTABLE  BY 
MU      i:orKM;'s    KKl  ().\SI  Kl(  I  IllN. 


TWO    IHKJUUANS    ON     llEAl'dN     llll.t.,     WHICH    SHOW 

ruE  AUTi.sru:  ijialitv  ok   mu    iioikxe's  work. 


SOME   CIVIC   IMPROVEMENTS   IN    BOSTON 

surmounted  bv  a  bay  window  that  is  also  recessed  so  that  the  Farthest 
projection  of  the  bay  conies  flush  with  the  wall.  In  another  place 
the  entrances  of  two  neighboring  residences  are  planned  so  that  they 
are  definitely  related  to  each  other,  and  the  space  between  is  filled 
with  a  beautiful  Colonial  window,  as  shown  in  one  of  the  illustrations 
we  have  reproduced  here.  Another  house  front,  filled  with  the  ordi- 
nary shuttered  windows,  shows  an  entirely  different  character  after 
the  addition  of  a  triple  group  of  small-paned  casements,  with  a  quaint 
hood  projecting  over  the  top  on  the  lower  floor  in  one  house,  and  a 
beautiful  bay  on  the  second  story  next  iloor.  Farther  up  the  street, — 
and  barely  showing  at  the  edge  of  the  photograph  we  reproduce 
here. —  is  another  recessed  entrance  and  almost  on  a  level  with  the 
street,  with  two  square  bays  above,  the  top  one  coming  almost  to  the 
cornice.  Some  of  the  alterations  are  more  sweeping,  as  for  example, 
^Irs.  ^Margaret  Deland.  the  author,  has  added  an  entire  new  front 
to  her  home  on  Newbury  Street,  the  ])rincipal  feature  of  which  is  a 
.series  of  bays  extending  from  the  ground  to  the  mansard  roof,  where 
the  top  one  is  finished  with  a  balcony. 

One  of  the  most  notable  achievements  in  regenerating  the  neigh- 
borhood has,  however,  been  the  work  of  Matthew  Hale,  the  young 
alderman,  who  is  a  man  after  Roosevelt's  own  heart,  and  who  be- 
lieves in  beginning  at  home,  right  in  his  own  neighborhooil,  to  put 
into  practice  his  theories  of  civic  righteousness.  INfr.  Hale,  who  lives 
in  the  West  End  and  whose  own  house  shows  the  spii-it  of  improve- 
ment which  is  doing  so  much  for  the  neighborhood,  bought  a  pair 
of  tumbledown  wooden  tenements  on  Lime  Street,  better  known  as 
"Slime  Alley," — a  name  that  is  more  suggestive  than  picturesque. 
These  tenements,  which  were  unsanitary  to  a  degree,  were  occupied 
by  twelve  families,  who  were  speedily  induced  to  seek  other  accom- 
modations. The  tenements  were  torn  down  and  on  the  site  was 
erected  a  new  building  tlesigned  entirely  for  craftsmen's  studios. 
It  is  built  of  brick  and  cement,  with  a  tile  roof,  and  is  planned  to  aft'ord 
the  utmost  convenience  to  the  tenants  who  have  recently  moved  in. 
These  tenants  are  metal  workers,  both  men  and  women;  carvers; 
modelers;  decorators;  architects  and  other  workers  in  the  various 
arts  and  crafts.  Its  presence  in  this  neighborhood  and  its  general 
character  not  only  brings  a  most  desirable  clement  into  a  ])art  of  the 
city  which  badly  needs  such  associations,  but  the  building  itself  sets 
an  example  which  promises  to  give  a  still  stronger  impetus  to  the 
movement  for  imnrovino-  the  neicjliborhood. 


95 


CHURCHES  BUILT  OF  CONCRETE  BLOCKS: 
A  FORM  OF  CONSTRUCTION  THAT  IS  EMI- 
NENTLY FITTED  FOR  THIS  PURPOSE 


THE  possibilities  of  concrete  block 
construction,  for  buildings  that 
must  be  comparatively  inexpensive 
and  yet  should  be  both  dignified 
and  permanent,  are  now  being  tested  in 
Massachusetts,  where  two  churches  de- 
signed by  Frank  A.  Bourne,  a  Boston 
architect  who  holds  his  mind  open  to  new 
ideas  and  takes  much  satisfaction  in  work- 
ing them  out  in  the  most  sensible  and  prac- 
tical way,  are  to  be  built  in  the  near  future 
at  Dorchester  and  Franklin.  The  idea  was 
suggested  by  the  use  of  this  material  for 
the  building  of  Saint  Luke's  Church  at 
Chelsea,  also  designed  by  Mr.  Bourne  with 
a  special  view  to  the  concrete  form  of  con- 
struction. We  show  here  both  exterior 
and  interior  illustrations  of  this  church, 
giving  an  idea  of  the  simple  and  substan- 
tial effect  of  the  concrete  when  used  in  this 
manner. 

The  form  of  the  building  is  especially 
adapted  to  the  use  of  concrete  blocks,  as 
the  straight,  severe  lines  that  characterize 
the  perpendicular  Gothic  style  lend  them- 
selves most  advantageously  to  this  form  of 
construction.  One  great  advantage  is  that 
walls  built  of  such  blocks  require  no  other 
finish,  inside  or  out,  than  the  smooth  faces 
of  the  blocks  themselves,  thus  doing  away 
with  all  woodwork,  lath,  plaster  and  deco- 
ration and  making  the  building  practically 
fireproof.  Almost  no  decoration, — save 
the  effects  that  can  be  gained  by  the  struc- 

96 


tural  use  of  the  blocks  themselves, — is  used 
on  the  exterior  of  this  building,  yet  the 
effect  is  one  of  unusual  interest.  In  the 
interior  Mr.  Bourne  has  left  nearly  every 
detail  of  the  construction  frankly  revealed 
and  has  depended  upon  the  decorative  use 
of  this  framework,  together  with  the  con- 
trast between  the  warm-toned  wood  and 
the  cold  gray  of  the  concrete,  to  give  the 
effect  desired.  A  touch  of  color,  of  course, 
is  added  by  the  windows  and  the  number 
of  these  will  be  increased  as  time  goes  on, 
each  giving  another  spot  of  glowing  color 
to  relieve  the  sober  tones  and  simple  lines 
of  the  interior. 

The  success  of  this  building,  both  in 
design  and  in  the  material  used,  led  the 
congregation  of  Saint  John's  Parish,  in 
Franklin,  to  consult  Mr.  Bourne  with  re- 
gard to  building  a  church  in  their  own 
town.  As  the  construction  fund  was 
limited,  the  members  of  the  parish  felt 
that  they  could  not  afford  a  building  of 
stone.  Even  field  stone  was  beyond  their 
means,  and  they  regarded  wood  as  being 
hardly  a  suitable  material  for  a  permanent 
church  building.  The  example  of  Saint 
Luke's  led  them  to  think  favorably  of  con- 
crete blocks,  especially  as  this  form  of  con- 
struction allowed  them  to  take  all  the  time 
they  needed  for  finishing  the  building. 
They  decided  to  manufacture  as  many 
blocks  as  they  had  money  to  make,  and 
then  if  the  funds  should  be  insuflScient  to 


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CHURCHES  BUILT  OF  CONCRETE  BLOCKS 


build  the  church,  the  blocks  could  remain 
until  the  builders  were  ready  to  use  them. 
A  further  advantage  was  that  the  church 
could  be  built  a  section  at  a  time  if  neces- 
sary, as,  when  the  blocks  are  being  laid, 
the  work  can  stop  at  any  time  if  funds  fail 
and  the  walls,  defying  all  the  effects  of 
the  weather,  will  remain  in  undamaged 
condition  until  such  time  as  they  can  be 
completed.  According  to  the  plan,  only 
the  nave  of  the  Franklin  church  will  be 
built  immediately.  The  chancel  arch  will 
be  of  concrete  masonry  and  will  be  tem- 
porarily filled  by  a  partition  of  concrete 
stucco  on  steel  lathing  fastened  to  wooden 
studs.  The  altar,  sanctuary  and  choir  will 
be  placed  on  a  recessed  platform,  the  altar 
standing  against  this  partition  and  under 
the  chancel  arch.  When  the  congregation 
feels  able  to  proceed  with  the  construction 
of  the  chancel,  the  work  can  progress  and 
the  extension  be  entirely  finished  without 
disturbing  the  use  of  the  nave.  Then  the 
temporary  partition  can  be  removed  and 
the  entire  church  used.  For  the  present 
the  roof  will  be  of  open  timber  work  in 
hard  pine,  stained  dark,  and  will  be  covered 
with  some  cheap  temporary  covering,  look- 
ing forward  to  future  copper  or  lead,  or 
else  it  will  be  slated. 

The  plan  includes  the  erection  of  a 
parish  house  and  rectory  adjoining  the 
church,  but  these  supplementary  buildings 
are  to  be  left  until  some  time  in  the  future. 
All  the  congregation  hopes  to  do  at  present 
is  to  erect  four  walls  and  a  roof  for  a 
place  of  worship,  but  it  is  firm  in  the  re- 
solve to  construct  what  it  does  build  of 
enduring  materials  rightly  put  together, 
even  if  the  completion  of  the  plan  is  de- 
ferred for  half  a  century, — the  idea  being 
that  the  building  is  to  last  for  all  time. 

Similar  plans  are  entertained  by  the 
Mission  of  the  Epiphany  in  Dorchester, 
where  a  church  is  badly  needed,  as  the 
work  of  the  mission  is  now  being  carried 
on  in  a  little  shop  where  services  are  held. 
This  energetic  mission  hopes,  at  a  cost  of 
about  ten  thousand  dollars,  to  build  first 
the  chancel,  blocking  up  for  the  present 
the  end  that  opens  into  the  nave.     The 


advantage  of  this  scheme  is  that  everything 
that  is  built  now  is  permanent  and,  with 
the  exception  of  the  temporary  wall  at 
the  west  end  of  the  chancel,  will  not  have 
to  be  torn  down  when  the  building  is  com- 
pleted. Even  in  the  case  of  this  wall,  the 
blocks  of  material  are  not  lost,  because 
they  can  be  used  later  in  the  construction 
of  the  rest  of  the  church. 

The  use  of  the  concrete  for  church  con- 
struction is  a  new  idea  and  one  that  seems 
most  reasonable  and  feasible,  especially  as 
in  most  cases  the  funds  of  the  congrega- 
tion are  limited  and  it  takes  some  time  to 
build  the  church.  Concrete  has  proven 
itself  in  many  other  forms  of  construction, 
and  Mr.  Bourne's  idea  of  using  it  for 
churches  opens  up  many  possibilities  for 
building  suitable  and  dignified  churches 
that  are  as  enduring  as  stone,  for  a  sum 
that  is  within  reach  of  a  parish  that  has 
only  moderate  means  at  command.  Saint 
Luke's  Church,  as  it  stands,  cost  a  little 
less  than  $15,000,  with  the  south  aisle  yet 
to  be  added. 

The  churches  of  Saint  Luke's  and  Saint 
John's  are  excellent  examples  of  the  per- 
pendicular Gothic  style,  modified  into  har- 
mony with  an  American  environment  and 
adapted  to  the  requirements  of  concrete 
construction.  Mr.  Bourne's  design  for  the 
Church  of  the  Epiphany,  however,  seems 
to  us  to  get  a  little  closer  to  the  life  of  the 
people.  It  is  simple  to  a  degree, — almost 
the  kind  of  church  that  might  have  been 
built  without  any  design  at  all,  just  as  the 
old  Gothic  cathedrals  were  built.  Among 
the  people  around  Dorchester  are  many 
Swedes,  Norwegians  and  Danes,  most  of 
them  Lutherans,  who  naturally  affiliate 
with  the  Episcopal  Church  as  they  are 
accustomed  to  services  and  teachings  that 
are  very  similar.  This  element  in  the 
population  seems  to  have  impressed  its 
sturdy,  simple  character  upon  the  very 
form  of  the  church,  which  is  to  be  built 
largely  for  the  use  of  just  such  people. 
It  will  be  preeminently  a  church  of  the 
plain  people,  not  at  all  the  sort  of  people 
who  would  encourage  the  building  of  an 
expensive,  showy  church. 

99 


TWO  CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  FOR  THE  HOME 
BUILDERS'  CLUB:  A  BUNGALOW  OF  STONE 
AND  CEMENT  AND  A  SUBURBAN  HOUSE  OF 
CONCRETE 


Two  Craftsman  houses  which  dift'er 
widely  in  style  and  yet  are  ecjually 
well  adapted  for  building  in  the 
country  or  the  suburbs  are  here 
presented  for  the  use  of  the  Home 
Builders'  Club.  The  stone  house  re(|uires 
ample  grounds  around  it,  but  the  more 
severe  design  of  the  concrete  house  would 
be  equally  at  home  on  a  comparatively 
small  lot.  As  it  is,  its  straight  walls  and 
simple  construction  demand  less  room  than 
the  widespread  lines  of  the  other,  which 
in  shape  is  more  on  the  order  of  the 
bungalow. 

We  regard  the  stone  house  as  one  of 
the  most  craftsmanlike  of  all  our  designs. 
Of  course,  the  use  of  stone  for  building 
is  merely  suggested  in  the  event  of  this 
material  being  easy  to  obtain  without  too 


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FIRST  KLOOR    PLAN. 


great  expense.  The  house  could  just  as 
well  be  built  of  concrete,  or,  if  a  frame 
house  seemed  more  in  keeping  with  the 
surroundings,  of  clapboards  or  shingles. 
As  in  the  case  of  all  the  Craftsman  houses, 
the  illustration  is  largely  suggestive  in  its 
nature  and  merely  serves  to  show  the  effect 
of  a  given  material  when  used  to  carry  out 
the  design. 

The  use  of  split  field  stone  for  the  walls 
of  the  lower  story  and  the  square  pillars 
of  the  porch  would  be  so  effective  that  it 
would  be  a  pity  not  to  use  it  in  a  part  of 
the  country  where  stone  is  easy  to  get.  In 
such  a  house  the  gables  would  better  be  of 
plaster  with  the  half-timber  construction, 
as  shown  here.  This  kind  of  house  lends 
itself  admirably  to  the  use  of  heavy  tim- 
bers, such  as  appear  all  around  the  walls 
at  the  top  of  the  first  story, espe- 
cially as  timbers  are  used  with 
such  good  eft'cct  in  the  exposed 
rafters  and  girilers  which  support 
the  widely  overhanging  roof.  We 
wish  to  call  special  attention  to 
the  construction  just  over  the  re- 
cess in  the  middle  of  the  porch, 
where  a  beam  tweKe  inches 
square  rests  on  top  of  the  two 
beams  of  equal  dimensions  which 
appear  at  the  sides.  This  raises 
the  line  twelve  inches  just  over 
the  recess  in  which  are  placed 
the  French  doors  leading  into 
the  living  room  and  the  windows 
on  either  side,  so  that  by  this  de- 
vice we  not  only  obtain  a  highly 
decorative  structural  eft'ect.  but 
admit  more  light  to  the  living 
room.  Just  abin-e  is  the  slee]iing 
porch,  also  recessed  for  a  part 
of  its  depth  and  protected  by  a 
heavy  wooden  Ijalustrade.  This 
porch  affords  am]ile  room  f(ir 
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CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  FOR  HOME  BUILDERS'  CLUB 


I 


it  is  easy  to  throw  a  partition 
across  the  center,  dividing  it  into 
two  outdoor  sleeping  rooms. 
This  is  made  the  more  practi- 
cable by  the  fact  that  two  French 
doors,  placed  side  by  side,  lead 
to  this  porch  from  the  upper 
hall.  It  would  be  advisable  to 
have  both  doors,  even  if  the 
partition  were  not  used,  as  the 
double  opening  admits  much 
more  air  and  sunshine  into  the 
upper  part  of  the  house  than 
woukl  be  possible  with  a  single 
doorway. 

The  floor  jilan  explains  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  interior,  which 
in  many  respects  could  be  altered 
to    suit   the   convenience   of    the 
owner.     For   example,  the   fire-  j 
place   in   the   living   room   could  | 
easily  be  recessed,  forming  an  at-  ! 
tractive  fireplace  nook.     In  that  ' 

case,    the    range    in   the    kitchen  

would  face  the  other  way.  The 
kitchen  itself  could  be  thrown  all 
into  one,  omitting  the  small  pantry  and 
store  room.  Built-in  cupboards  could 
easily  supply  the  place  of  the  pantry,  and 
the  kitchen  porch  could  be  enclosed  for  an 
outside  kitchen  and  cool  room.  Also,  in- 
stead of  the  built-in  sideboard  and  china 
closets  which  extend  all  across  one  side 
of  the  dining  room,  an  arrangement  could 
be  made  by  which  a  door  would  open  from 
the  dining  room  upon  the  porch  at  the 
back,  which  could  then  be  used  as  an  out- 
door dining  room  or  sunroom,  instead  of 
a  sleeping  porch  opening  from  one  of  the 
lower  bedrooms.  Upstairs  the  billiard 
room  could  be  used  for  a  bedroom,  if 
needed,  or  it  could  even  be  partitioned 
across  the  center  to  form  two  rooms. 

The  suggested  treatment  of  the  interior 
is  shown  in  the  illustration,  although  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  fireplace  can  hardly 
be  given  in  black  and  white.  As  suggested 
here,  it  is  built  of  a  kind  of  brick  that 
shows  many  varying  tones, — copper,  dark 
Indian  red,  dull  purjjle,  peacock  blue  and 
the    like,— the    colors    mingling    as    they 


STONE    AND    CEMENT    HOUSE: 
SECOND    FLOOR    PLAN. 

would  in  an  Oriental  rug.  When  rightly 
designed,  the  efl^ect  is  very  beautiful,  es- 
pecially if  the  colors  are  carried  out  in 
the  decorative  scheme  of  the  room. 

The  concrete  house  is  also  susceptible  to 
considerable  variation.  We  have  had  so 
many  demands  for  houses  of  concrete  con- 
struction without  timbers  that  we  have 
shown  it  here  in  that  way.  As  it  stands 
here,  it  is  a  house  that  would  lend  itself 
very  kindly  to  vine  covered  walls,  as  these 
would  tend  to  soften  the  severity  of  the 
lines  and  wall  spaces.  If  the  simple 
concrete  construction  seems  too  severe,  it 
would  be  easy  to  relieve  it  by  putting  a 
balustrade  of  dark  wood  on  the  porch  just 
above  the  entrance  and  to  make  a  balcony, 
also  with  a  wooden  balustrade,  above  the 
bay  at  the  side.  As  it  stands  now,  there 
is  a  fairly  large  sleeping  porch  at  the  front ; 
but  the  walls  are  carried  up  to  form  a 
parapet  in  place  of  the  balustrade.  If  the 
top  of  the  bay  at  the  side  were  turned  into 
a  balcony,  the  window  above  would  need 
to  be  changed  into  a  French  door  which 

105 


CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  FOR  HOME  BUILDERS'  CLUB 


CONCRETE    house:    FIRST  FLOOR   PLAN. 

would  give  access  to  it  from  the  bedroom. 
The  roof  of  this  house  is  unusually  flat, 
and  is  meant  to  be  covered  with  a  kind  of 
roofing  which  we  have  found  particularly 
durable  and  satisfactory.  This  is  a  com- 
position roofing  that  is  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  thick  and  comes  in  rolls, — like  mat- 
ting. It  is  laid  in  strips  from  the  ridge 
pole  down  to  the  eaves  and  cemented  to- 
gether where  it  joins.  Over  each  seam  is 
laid  a  wooden  strip  or  batten  five  or  six 
inches  wide,  and  the  roof  at  the  eaves  is 
wrapped  over  to  form  a  roll,  softening  the 
line  into  a  rounded  effect  not  unlike  that 
of  a  thatched  roof.  Such  a  roof,  if  prop- 
erly put  on,  should  last  for  twenty-five  or 
thirty  years  without  repair,  and  for  this 
kind  of  a  house  it  gives  an  effect  that  is 
both  interesting  and  unusual,  and  is  abso- 

io6 


lutely  in  keeping  with  the  construction. 
Also  it  is  inexpensive,  costing  about  half 
as  much  as  shingles.  As  suggested  here, 
the  roof  is  too  flat  for  tile,  slate,  or 
shingles.  If  the  house  were  built  in  sur- 
roundings which  admitted  an  absolutely 
flat  roof,  the  construction  might  be  much 
cheapened  by  making  it  flat. 

The  floor  plans  show  the  economy  of 
space  in  the  arrangement  of  interior  and 
also  the  suggestion  of  large  open  spaces 
that  is  given  by  the  arrangement.  There 
are  only  suggested  divisions  between  the 
entry,  hall,  den,  living  room  and  dining 
room,  and  the  large  irregular  space  is 
broken  by  window  and  fireside  seats,  built- 
in  sideboard,  china  cupboards,  bookcases 
and  the  like,  and  made  cheery  by  the  two 
large  fireplaces  in  the  living  room  and  den. 


CONCRETE    house:     SECOND    FLOOR   PLAN. 


THE    PROPER    CONSIDERATION 
AND  GARDENS:  BY  C.  A.  BYERS 


OF     LAWNS 


A 


((  ;%  display  of  good  judgment  among 
the  planners  of  homes,"  a  suc- 
cessful architect  once  said  to  the 
writer,  "is  comparatively  rare. 
Occasionally  we  find  the  man,  or  the 
woman,  who  intends  having  a  home  built, 
possessing  thoroughly  good  predetermined 
ideas — that  is,  general  ideas  for  the  work- 
ing out,  by  us,  of  the  entire  home,  the 
grounds  as  well  as  the  exterior  and  the 
interior  of  the  house.  But  in  the  majority 
of  cases  the  most  that  the  prospective 
builder  does  is  to  outline  in  his  mind  some 
crude  architectural  style  for  the  house 
alone,  usually  patterned  after  the  home  of 
some  neighbor.  And  worse  still,  he  thinks 
only  of  expending  all  of  the  sum  of  money 
that  he  has  set  aside  for  home  building 
purposes  upon  the  carrying  out  of  some 
particular  style,  with  no  thought,  appar- 
ently, of  the  interior  furnishing  or  of  the 
fixing  up  of  the  surrounding  grounds.  I 
believe  that  every  architect  should  have  a 
fair,  if  not  a  thorough,  knowledge  of  land- 
scape gardening,  or  at  least  that  he  should 
work  in  conjunction  with  someone  who 
has.  I  would  then  advise  the  client  to 
divide  the  sum  that  he  contemplates  ex- 
pending upon  his  home  by  five,  three-fifths 
of  the  sum  to  be  used  for  the  building 
proper,  one-fifth  for  furnishing,  and  the 
remaining  one-fifth  for  the  gardens." 

This  may  be  expressing  the  case  rather 
strongly  and  setting  too  rigid  a  rule  for  the 
monetary  disbursements,  but  no  doubt  the 
architect,  to  a  great  extent,  was  right. 
There  is  too  marked  an  inclination  on  the 
part  of  home  builders  toward  the  neglect- 
ing of  the  house  interior  and  the  house 
setting,  particularly  the  latter.  A  well 
designed  home  signifies  more  than  a 
well  built  house.  To  convert  a  house  into 
a  real  home,  its  interior  must  be  tastefully 
finished  and  furnished  and  its  surround- 
ings should  embrace  appropriate  lawn  and 
garden  work.  The  proportioning  of  the 
expenditures,  however,  should  be  made  ac- 
cording to  the  total  amount  to  be  expend- 
ed, the  style  of  the  house  to  be  built,  the 
special  location  selected  and  the  various 


other  conditions  that  affect  the  undertak- 
ing. 

The  first  glimpse  of  a  home  afforded  to 
the  visitor  or  passerby  reveals  the  exterior 
appearance  as  a  whole,  and  from  this  a 
very  lasting  impression  is  usually  formed. 
The  house  itself  may  be  well  built  and 
architecturally  attractive,  but  unless  the 
surroundings  are  well  planned  and  pleasing 
the  impression  created  is  certain  to  be  far 
from  flattering  to  the  builder's  taste.  A 
house  without  an  artistic  setting,  without 
an  appropriate  lawn  or  garden  with  flowers 
and  trees,  or  shrubbery  of  some  kind 
artistically  arranged,  is  like  a  picture  with- 
out a  frame. 

In  planning  the  building  of  a  home, 
either  humble  or  grand,  one  should  ask 
oneself  if  it  would  not  be  better  to  build 
a  slightly  smaller  or  less  elaborate  house 
and  so  be  able  to  put  a  small  portion  of 
the  money  into  lawn  and  garden  work? 
The  expenditures  for  fixing  up  the 
grounds,  which  should  be  governed  by  the 
location  and  other  conditions,  need  not  be 
large,  especially  if  one  can  do  at  least  a 
part  of  the  work  oneself,  but  every  builder 
of  a  new  home  should  make  some  pro- 
vision for  the  immediate  laying  out  of  a 
lawn  and  garden.  And  every  spring  there- 
after the  grounds  should  be  given  renewed 
attention. 

No  set  of  rules  for  gardening  can  be 
devised.  Successful  landscape  gardeners, 
in  so  far  as  their  work  consists  of  design- 
ing is  concerned,  are  born — not  made.  The 
most  that  I  can  do  toward  devising  rules 
for  lawn  and  garden  designing  is  to  pre- 
scribe a  number  of  don'ts — and  to  let  the 
accompanying  illustrations  serve  as  pic- 
torial suggestions.  A  common  mistake 
among  flower  lovers  who  become  amateur 
gardeners  is  the  planting  of  a  conglomerate 
mixture  of  colors  with  no  realization  of 
what  its  collective  appearance  must  be. 
Here  apply  the  first  don't.  One  color  in 
a  single  border  creation  is  far  better  and 
prettier  than  half  a  dozen  colors;  and  one 
color,  say,  for  instance,  ?  scarlet  geranium, 
with  an  enclosing  row  of  something  like 

107 


LAWNS  AND   GARDENS 


the  "dusty  miller"  makes  a  simple  border 
scheme  that  no  conglomeration  of  colors 
can  equal.  For  circular  beds  more  colors 
can  of  course  often  be  used  with  good 
taste,  but  the  colors  for  such  spaces  should 
be  carefully  selected.  There  is  always 
more  danger  of  having  too  many  colors 
in  any  flower  plot  than  too  few. 

In  the  matter  of  tree  and  shrubbery 
planting  more  freedom  is  allowed.  The 
kinds  and  number  used,  however,  should 
be  governed  by  the  size  of  the  ground 
plot,  the  location  and  the  general  character 
of  the  landscape.  The  grounds  of  city 
homes  are  usually  limited  in  size  and  the 
arrangement  of  flowers  and  shrubs  must 
often  be  such  as  give  the  place  an  ap- 
pearance of  primness.  The  city  home 
lawn  should  be  kept  mown,  the  trees  well 
trimmed  and  the  flowers  and  shrubbery  in 
prim  condition.  The  rear  garden  in  the 
city,  however,  is  not  subject  to  such  rules 
and  therefore  individuality  may  here  be 
given  greater  exercise. 

It  is  the  country  and  suburban  homes 
that  offer  to  the  gardener  the  widest  ap- 
preciable opportunities.  Here  he  may 
Iiave  creations  of  every  kind — flower- 
bordered  walks,  arbors,  lily  ponds,  gnarled 
and  picturesque  trees,  shaded  nooks,  per- 
golas and  rustic  seats, — everj'thing  ar- 
ranged to  suit  his  own  fancies.  The 
grounds  may  be  rugged  or  level  and  prim, 
and  designed  with  no  thought  of  their 
having  to  conform  with  those  of  the  other 
homes  on  the  street.  There  are  ways  of 
arranging  the  garden  to  suit  the  archi- 
tectural style  of  the  house,  and  to  create 


such  a  harmony  should  be  the  gardener's 
object.  The  garden  should  be  as  simple 
as  is  possible  for  the  every-day  home, 
and,  of  course,  tastefully  arranged — in 
some  certain  order,  so  as  not  to  have  the 
appearance  in  general  of  being  only  a 
conglomeration  of  various  kinils  of  trees, 
shrubbery  and  flowers.  Other  rules  for 
the  laying  out  of  the  grounds  cannot  well 
be  given. 

It  should  be  the  object  of  the  gardener 
to  plant  hardy  and  long-blooming  varieties 
of  flowers,  with  due  consideration  as  to 
color  combinations,  and  the  planting  should 
be  done,  in  most  cases,  as  early  as  possible 
after  the  frosts.  Give  the  soil  proper  at- 
tention, seeing  to  it  that  it  is  well  enriched 
with  manure  and  that  it  is  occasionally 
loosened  around  the  plants.  Rose  bushes 
and  other  shrubs  that  have  stood  in  the 
garden  during  the  winter  should  also  re- 
ceive attention  of  this  kind  in  the  spring. 
A  nice  lawn  and  garden  enhances  the  ap- 
pearance of  any  home  many  times, and  the 
work  of  gardening  affords  outdoor  exer- 
cise and  to  most  persons  gives  much  pleas- 
ure. From  Bacon's  essay  on  gardens  is 
taken  the  following;  "God  Almighty  first 
planted  a  garden :  and.  indeed,  it  is  the 
purest  of  human  pleasures,  it  is  the 
greatest  refreshment  to  the  spirit  of  man, 
without  which  buildings  and  palaces  are 
but  gross  handiwork;  and  a  man  shall 
ever  see  that  when  ages  grow  to  civility 
and  elegancy,  men  come  to  build  stately, 
sooner  than  to  garden  finely;  as  if  garden- 
ing were  the  greater  perfection." 


K)8 


THE  USE  OF  WATER  IN  A  LITTLE  GARDEN 


WE  have  to  acknowledge  our  in- 
debtedness to  the  Japanese  for 
more  inspiration  in  matters  of 
art  and  architecture  than  most 
of  us  can  realize,  and  in  no  department  of 
art  is  the  realization  of  subtle  beauty  that 
lies  in  simple  and  unobtrusive  things  more 
valuable  to  us  as  home  makers  than  the 
suggestions  they  give  us  as  to  the  arrange- 
ment of  our  gardens.  With  our  national 
impulsiveness,  we  are  too  apt  to  go  a  step 
beyond  the  inspiration  and  attempt  direct 
imitation,  which  is  a  pity,  because  the  in- 
evitable failure  that  must  necessarily  at- 
tend such  mistaken  efforts  will  do  more 
than  anything  else  to  discourage  people 
with  the  idea  of  trying  to  have  a  Japanese 
garden.  But  if  we  once  get  the  idea  into 
our  heads  that  the  secret  of  the  whole 
thing  lies  in  the  exquisite  sense  of  propor- 
tion that  enables  a  Japanese  to  produce  the 
effect  of  a  whole  landscape  within  the 
compass  of  a  small  yard,  there  is  some 
hope  of  our  being  able  to  do  the  same 
thing  in  our  own  country  and  in  our  own 
way. 

Our  idea  of  a  garden  usually  includes  a 
profusion  of  flowers  and  ambitious  look- 
ing shrubs,  but  the  Japanese  is  less  ob- 
vious. He  loves  flowers  and  has  many  of 
them,  but  the  typical  Japanese  garden  is 
made  up  chiefly  of  stones,  ferns,  dwarf 
trees  and  above  all  water.  It  may  be  only 
a  little  water, — a  tiny,  trickling  stream  not 
so  large  as  that  which  would  flow  from  a 
small  garden  hose.  But,  given  this  little 
stream,  the  Japanese  gardener. — or  the 
American  gardener  who  once  grasps  the 
Japanese  idea, — can  do  wonders.  He  can 
take  that  little  stream,  which  represents  an 
amount  of  water  costing  at  the  outside 
about  three  dollars  a  month,  and  can  so 
direct  it  that  it  pours  over  piles  of  rocks 
in  tiny  cascades,  forming  pool  after  pool, 
and  finally  shaping  its  course  through  a 
miniature  river  into  a  clear  little  lake.  If 
it  is  a  strictly  Japanese  garden,  both  river 
and  lake  will  be  bridged  and  the  stream 
will  have  as  many  windings  as  possible  to 
give  a  chance  for  a  number  of  bridges. 
Also  it  will  have  temple  lanterns  of  stone. 


bronze  storks  and  perhaps  a  tiny  image  of 
Buddha. 

But  in  the  American  garden  we  need 
none  of  these  things,  unless  indeed  we 
have  space  enough  so  that  a  portion  of  the 
grounds  may  be  devoted  to  a  genuine  Jap- 
anese garden  like  the  one  shown  in  the 
illustrations.  This  indeed  might  have  been 
picked  up  in  Japan  and  transplanted  bodily 
to  America,  for  it  is  the  garden  of  Mr. 
John  S.  Bradstreet,  of  Minneapolis,  who 
is  a  lover  of  all  things  Japanese  and  has 
been  in  Japan  many  times.  This  garden 
occupies  a  space  little  more  than  one  hun- 
dred feet  in  diameter,  and  yet  the  two 
illustrations  we  give  are  only  glimpses  of 
its  varied  charm.  They  are  chosen  chiefly 
because  they  illustrate  the  use  that  can  be 
made  of  a  small  stream  of  water  so  placed 
that  it  trickles  over  a  pile  of  rocks.  The 
effect  produced  is  that  of  a  mountain  glen, 
and  so  perfect  are  the  proportions  and  so 
harmonious  the  arrangement  that  there  is 
no  sense  of  incongruity  in  the  fact  that  the 
whole  thing  is  on  such  a  small  scale. 

Where  people  have  only  a  small  garden, 
say  in  the  back  yard  of  a  city  home  or  in 
some  nook  that  can  be  spared  from  the 
front  lawn,  an  experiment  with  the  possi- 
bilities of  rocks,  ferns  and  a  small  stream 
of  water  would  bring  rich  returns.  We 
need  no  temple  lanterns  or  images  of 
Buddha  in  this  country,  but  we  do  need 
the  kind  of  garden  that  brings  to  our 
minds  the  recollection  of  mountain  brooks, 
wooded  ravines  and  still  lakes,  and  while 
it  takes  much  thought,  care  and  training 
of  one's  power  of  observation  and  adjust- 
ment to  get  it,  the  question  of  space  is  not 
one  that  has  to  be  considered,  and  the  ex- 
pense is  almost  nothing  at  all. 

The  thing  to  be  most  avoided  is  imita- 
tion either  of  the  Japanese  models  from 
which  we  take  the  suggestion  for  our  own 
little  gardens  or  of  the  scenery  of  which 
they  are  intended  to  remind  us.  It  is 
safest  to  regard  such  gardens  merely  as 
an  endeavor  on  our  part  to  create  some- 
thing that  will  call  into  life  the  emotion 
or  memory  we  wish  to  perpetuate. 


"3 


MODERN  DYESTUFFS  APPLIED  TO  STEN- 
CILING: BY  PROFESSOR  CHARLES  PELLEW  OF 
COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY:  NUMBER  X 

from  old  Japanese  stencils  from   the  collection 

be,  by  the  boiled  linseed  oil  with  which  it 
is  mixed,  this  oil  having  the  property  on 
exposure  to  air  of  drying  to  a  hard  strong 
varnish.  But  if  oil  paint  is  applied  to  a 
piece  of  cloth  so  thick  that  there  is  enough 
oil  to  hold  the  color  firmly,  it  is  usually  so 
thick  that  it  looks  sticky  and  feels  stiff  and 
is  liable  to  crack  on  washing. 

If,  on  the  one  hand,  the  paint  is  thinned 
down  so  much  by  gasolene  that  it  can  be 
applied  as  a  delicate  thin  wash  it  will  look 
all  right,  to  be  sure,  and  show  the  grain 
and  texture  of  the  cloth,  but  there  will  be 
so  little  oil  present  that  the  pigment  will 
have  hardly  anything  to  make  it  adhere  to 
the  fiber  and  is  apt  to  wash  out.  In  the 
Japanese  stenciled  goods,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  colors  are  evidently  applied  as 
dyestuffs,  and  the  cloth,  whether  calico, 
crape  or  silk,  is  fairly  and  truly  dyed,  so 
that  the  colors  will  stand  washing  well  and 
the  texture  of  the  cloth  is  not  hidden — 
and  it  was  this  effect  that  my  friends 
wished  to  obtain. 

Another  point  about  which  numerous 
inquiries  were  made  was  that  of  "resist 
stenciling."  It  appears  that  in  Japan  when 
a  girl  wishes  a  new  dress,  she  will  sit 
down  and  sketch  off  designs  on  pieces  of 
brown  paper  until  she  gets  one  that  she 
likes :  very  probably  the  family  will  all 
take  a  hand,  suggesting  improvements  and 
alterations.  Finally,  when  a  suitable  de- 
sign  has   been   selected,   some   one,   with 


The  illustrations  for  this  article  were  made 
of  E.  T.  Shima. 

A  branch  of  handicraft  work  which 
has  recently  been  attracting  a 
great  deal  of  attention  is  the 
graceful  and  interesting  art  of 
stenciling  on  tex-tiles.  This  art  has  been 
known  and  practiced  in  many  parts  of  the 
world  for  a  considerable  period,  but  its 
greatest  development  has  been  in  Japan, 
where  it  was  in  constant  use  for  over  three 
hundred  years,  and  carried  to  the  greatest 
perfection.  From  the  cheap  cotton  towels 
used  by  the  common  people  for  washing 
and  for  head  covering  to  the  wonderful 
silk  garments  worn  by  the  nobility,  the 
almost  universal  method  of  decoration  has 
been  by  the  use  of  stencils. 

A  few  months  ago  some  of  my  friends 
among  the  craftsmen  suggested  that  I 
assist  them  in  getting  effects  comparable 
in  some  respects,  at  least,  to  the  Japanese. 
They  and  many  of  their  friends  had  taken 
up  the  art  quite  seriously.  They  were 
good  designers  and  were  perfectly  capable 
of  cutting  out  patterns  in  sheets  of  stiff, 
waterproof  paper,  and  then  of  applying 
suitable  colors  by  means  of  these  paper 
stencils  upon  various  kinds  of  fabrics.  But 
they  did  not  know  how  to  make  the  colors 
permanent. 

The  best  that  they  could  do  was  to  apply 
oil  paint,  more  or  less  thinned  with  gaso- 
lene or  turpentine.  The  drawback  to  this 
was  evident.  In  an  oil  paint  the  pigment 
is  fastened  to  the  fabric,  whatever  it  may 


114 


MODERN   DYESTUIFS  AND  STENCILING 


a  thin,  sharp  knife,  will  carefully  cut  it 
out  in  the  paper,  varnish  it  properly  to 
make  it  waterproof  and  more  durable,  and 
then  the  stencil  is  taken  down  to  the  local 
dyer  to  apply  the  color. 

Now,  if,  as  is  generally  the  case,  the 
girl  wishes  a  white  dress  with  colored  pat- 
tern, the  colors  are  dabbed  on  to  the  white 
cloth  through  the  stencil  and  there  prop- 
erly fixed.  But  sometimes  the  dress  is 
to  be  blue,  or  pink,  or  orange,  or  even 
black,  and  they  want  the  pattern  to  be 
white  or  light  against  a  dark  background ; 
in  this  case  the  dyer  paints  or  dabs  on 
a  peculiar  paste  which  protects  the  cloth 
from  the  action  of  the  dye,  "resists"  the 
dye,  as  it  is  called;  and  after  this  has 
dried,  the  dyer  dips  the  goods  in  the  dye- 
pot,  dyeing  it  the  proper  color,  and  later 
the  paste  is  washed  off,  leaving  the  pattern 
on  the  white  cloth. 

Of  course,  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to 
find  out  how  the  Japanese  did  the  work 
themselves,  and,  fortunately,  I  soon  found 
a  friend — a  very  capable  dyeing  chemist 
who  had  been  in  the  East  and  had  care- 
fully noted  ever>-thing  he  saw  of  interest 
in  the  line  of  textile  work.  He  told  me 
that  the  colors  were  fixed  by  steaming,  and 


^^y^'^^^wss-'"^^'^^  1 

l^i^i^^T;^^^^ 

§^H 

« ? 

vr-^wi,.^ 

i 

'h^^J'   -^ 

^rS 

.  .^/ J  ^ ^  ■  *  "^ *^ 

*M'/^ 

W^Sm 

^m 

m^i^^MM 

JAPANESE  VINE  STENCH,. 


JAPANESE  PINE   CONE  STENCIL. 

were  prepared  as  we  prepare  colors  for 
calico  printing,  and  that  the  resist  paste 
was  made  from  rice  flour,  wheat  bran, 
lime  water  and  carbonate  of  lime  boiled 
up  and  stirred  together  to  form  a  paste. 

With  these  facts  as  a  basis  it  was  pos- 
sible to  make  experiments  with  some  de- 
gree of  intelligence,  and  before  very  long 
we  could  get  very  satisfactory  results. 

(a)  Resist  Stenciling. — In  this  kind  of 
stencil  work  the  only  dyes  to  use  are  those 
which  can  be  applied  cold,  as  the  Sulphur 
Dyes  and  the  Indigo  or  Vat  Dyes,  both 
described  in  previous  papers.  We  have 
had  the  best  results  so  far  with  the  Sul- 
phur Dyes,  using  strong  baths  and  immers- 
ing the  goods,  cotton,  linen  and  silk,  for 
a  ver\'  short  time.  With  silk,  it  will  be 
remembered,  .special  precaution  must  be 
taken  to  avoid  the  weakening  action  of  the 
alkaline  sodium  sulphide  on  the  fiber. 

This  resist  paste  can  be  made  very  easily 
without  the  use  of  the  rice  flour,  wheat 
bran,  etc..  by  simplv  making  a  rather  thin 
paste  with  wheat  flour  and  boiling  water, 
in  which  latter  zinc  sulphate  has  been  dis- 
solved,   and    then,    while   hot,    stirring   in 

"5 


MODERN  DYESTUFFS  AND   STENCILING 


some  white  inert  powder,  like  zinc  oxide 
(zinc  white)  finely  powdered,  or  fine  cal- 
cium carhonate.  The  exact  proportions 
are  not  of  much  importance.  We  have 
obtained  good  results  from  the  following 
formula : 

In  a  small  agate  or  china  saucepan  or 
casserole  boil  a  small  cupful  of  water,  to 
which  has  been  added  half  a  teaspoonful 
of  zinc  sulphate.  Vv'itli  this  make  a  smooth 
paste  with  a  large  teaspoonful  of  wheat 
flour  and  then  while  it  is  still  hot  add  as 
much  zinc  oxide  (finely  powdered)  as  you 
have  of  dry  flour,  and  stir  it  in  thoroughly 
till  smooth  and  uniform. 

When  cool,  this  paste  is  brushed  into 
the  cloth  through  the  stencil.  After  it  is 
dried,  the  cloth  can  be  dyed  rather  quickly 
in  the  Sulphur  Dyes  and  when  taken  out 
after  the  cloth  has  been  wrung  smooth 
and  exposed  to  the  air  for  a  few  minutes 


A   FISHING    STILL  LIFE: 
FOR   JAPANESE    STENCIL. 


the  pattern  can  be  developed  by  boiling  in 
soap  and  water. 

It  generally  gives  rather  softer  effects 
if  the  pattern  is  not  a  dead  white,  but 
slightly  shaded.  Of  course,  this  depends 
on  the  composition  of  the  paste,  the  care 
with  which  it  has  been  applied,  and,  above 
all,  on  the  length  of  time  the  cloth  is  ex- 
posed to  the  action  of  the  dyestuff. 

Before  leaving  this  subject  it  may  be 
well  to  explain  the  composition  of  the 
paste.  The  wheat  flour  paste  is  used  be- 
cause it  is  more  sticky  and  adhesive  than 
starch  or  corn-meal  paste.  (The  Japanese, 
it  will  be  remembered,  mixed  wheat  bran 
boiled  with  lime  water  to  their  rice  flour 
paste  for  the  same  purpose.)  The  white 
pigment,  zinc  oxide,  or,  which  answers 
just  about  as  well,  carbonate  of  lime,  gives 
more  consistency  and  body  to  the  paste ; 
while  the  addition  of  sulphate  of  zinc  is 
a  little  chemical  trick,  known  to 
modern  calico  printers,  for  protect- 
ing the  cloth  from  the  action  of  the 
Sulphur  Colors.  These  latter,  it 
will  be  remembered,  are  insoluble 
in  water,  but  dissolve  in  a  solution 
of  sodium  sulphide  and  soda.  Now 
zinc  sulphate  decomposes  the  so- 
dium sulphide,  forming  a  white 
powder,  zinc  sulphide,  and  at  the 
same  time  throwing  the  color  out 
of  solution. 

(b)  Color  Stenciling. — The  meth- 
od for  obtaining  permanent  colors 
used  by  the  Japanese  is  out  of  the 
question  for  most  craftsmen,  be- 
cause of  the  great  difficulty  of  prop- 
erly steaming  the  goods  to  fix  them. 
In  Japan  they  are  so  clever  with 
their  hands  that  in  every  little  vil- 
lage the  local  dyer  has  built  himself 
a  little  steam  box,  with  an  iron  or 
copper  pot  underneath,  and  with  a 
top  and  sides  of  lacquered  cloth  or 
even  of  paper,  with  a  light  wooden 
frame,  and  he  can  steam  his  goods 
there  with  dry  steam  by  the  hour, 
if  necessary.  But  I  know,  by  ex- 
perience, how  difficult  and  uncertain 
it  is   to  steam  small   tuiantities   of 


Ii6 


MODERN   DYESTUFFS  AND   STENCILING 


printed  or  stenciled  goods  satisfac- 
torily, even  with  all  the  resources  of 
a  university  laboratory. 

Fortunately,  a  process  has  been 
worked  out  by  which  very  satisfac- 
tory results  can  be  obtained  with 
the  use  of  the  modest  flatiron,  ap- 
plied with  some  skill  and  judgment, 
and  without  any  need,  except  in- 
deed for  very  elaborate  pieces,  of 
a  steam  box  or  any  apparatus  of 
that  sort. 

Stencil  Paste— The  colors  used 
in  this  process  are  the  Basic  Colors 
described  in  a  previous  article,  and 
the  pastes  are  made  up  in  much  the 
same  way  that  chemists  have  long 
employed,  when  usmg  these  dyes 
for  calico  printing.  The  dyestuff  is 
dissolved  in  considerable  acetic  acid 
and  water,  a  little  tartaric  acid  is 
added,  and  then  a  small  amount  of 
a  strong  solution  of  tannic  acid. 
After  this  the  mixture  is  made  into 
a  paste  of  the  proper  consistency  by  the 
addition  of  a  gum  of  some  kind,  such  as 
that  made  by  soaking  finely  powdered 
gum  tragacanth  in  some  30  parts  of  hot 
water. 

In  the  above  mixture  the  tannic  acid 
combines  with  the  Basic  Color,  forming  a 
tannate,  which,  though  insoluble  in  water, 
dissolves  readily  in  acetic  acid.  When  the 
paste,  thinned  with  a  little  water,  if  neces- 
sary, is  applied  to  the  cloth,  it  should  be 
allowed  to  dry,  and  then,  as  soon  as  con- 
venient, carefully  ironed  over  and  under 
a  damp  cloth,  so  as  to  steam  it  well  for  a 
few  seconds.  Care  must  be  taken  here 
not  to  have  the  color  nm,  for  until  it  has 
been  heated  in  this  way  it  is  liable  to 
bleed. 

This  ironing  and  the  slight  accompany- 
ing steaming  accomplishes,  if  done  care- 
fully, the  work  done  in  calico  printing  by 
half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour  in  the 
steam  box.  It  melts  the  paste  and  carries 
it  through  and  into  the  fibers  of  the  cloth, 
and  at  the  same  time  drives  oflF  the  acetic 
acid,  leaving  the  insoluble  tannate  of  the 
dyestuff  behind. 


FLYING     BIRDS     IN     A 
JAPANESE   STENCIL. 

FiA-mg  Bath. — To  make  the  color  quite 
fast  to  washing,  however,  it  is  necessary 
to  pass  the  material,  generally  after  rinsing 
in  warm  water  to  dissolve  out  the  g^im,  in 
a  weak  bath  of  tartar  emetic  (one  small 
teaspoonful  of  tartar  emetic  to  one  gallon 
of  warm  water).  The  antimony  in  this 
compound  combines  with  the  color  and 
the  tannic  acid  to  form  a  result  which  is 
markedly  resistant  to  washing. 

Patents  have  been  applied  for  to  cover 
both  paste  and  process,  not  with  any  idea 
of  interfering  with  the  individual  crafts- 
man wishing  to  prepare  his  own  materials, 
but  in  order  to  make  it  worth  while  for 
some  reliable  person  to  put  up  and  keep 
for  sale  these  pastes,  properly  prepared. 

General  Remarks. — The  results  obtained 
with  the  resist  paste  described  above  are 
really  very  satisfactory  from  every  stand- 
point. One  great  advantage  for  the  crafts- 
man in  this  process  is  the  absolute  per- 
manence of  the  results.  The  pattern  is  the 
color  of  the  original  cloth,  and  the  best 


117 


MODERN   DYESTUFIS  AND   STENCILING 


Sulphur  Colors  are  as  permanent  as  any 
dyes  can  be.  The  same  paste,  without  the 
zinc  oxide,  can  be  used  as  a  resist  for  the 
Indigo  or  Vat  Colors,  and  also  for  the  old 
Mineral  Dyes,  iron  and  manganese,  de- 
scribed in  my  first  article.  Effects  in  two, 
three  or  more  colors  can  also  be  readily 
obtained  by  starting  with  cloth  already 
dyed,  or  by  after-dyeing,  or  by  succes- 
sively applying  resist  paste  to  different 
portions  of  the  fabric,  between  successive 
baths  of  different  dyestuffs.  These  latter 
effects,  however,  can  be  better  obtained  by 
the  Batik,  or  wax  resist  process,  to  be 
described  later. 

The  use  of  the  colored  stencil  paste  will 
not  prove  quite  so  simple.  On  silk  it  gives 
extremely  pretty,  bright  effects,  quite  fast 
to  washing,  with  great  ease,  but  on  calico 
it  takes  some  little  experimenting. 

Great  care  should  always  be  taken  to 
have  the  cloth,  whether  cotton,  linen,  jute 
or  what-not,  free  from  sizing  before  apply- 
ing the  paste.  It  is  always  best  to  thor- 
oughly boil  it  out  in  a  soap  bath,  and  then 
rinse  it  well,  to  be  sure  and  have  the  fibers 
clean  and  in  a  receptive  condition.  We 
have  foimd  the  paste  to  penetrate  better 
if  the  cloth  is  just  slightly  and  evenly 
dampened  before  applying  the  color. 


BAMBOO    DESIGN    IN    JAPANESE    STENCII.. 


WEED   DESIGN    IN    JAPANESE    STENCIL. 

A  serious  drawback  to  this  process  is 
the  fact  that  not  many  Basic  Colors  are 
really  fast  to  light.  The  blues.  Methylene 
Blue  in  many  shades,  are  very  permanent ; 
so,  too,  are  some  of  the  violet  shades.  The 
yellows  are  strong  and  powerful — but  not 
very  fast,  and,  unfortunately,  the  reds, 
even  the  best,  are  not  nearly  as  fast  as  the 
best  reds  of  the  other  classes. 

Experiments  are  now  being  made  in  my 
laboratory  to  obtain  a  satisfactory  black 
paste  for  cotton,  and  also  to  get  some 
good  metallic  pastes,  gold  and  silver,  to 
use  against  dark  and  light  backgrounds. 

We  are  also  experimenting  on  different 
varieties  of  stencil  paper,  and  of  varnishes 
and  lacquers.  Thanks  to  Mr.  E.  T. 
Shima,  of  this  city,  some  of  whose  large 
and  beautiful  assortment  of  Japanese 
stencils  are  shown  in  the  accompanying 
illustrations,  we  have  some  Japanese  sten- 
cil knives  and  stencil  brushes,  as  well  as 
a  good  variety  of  large  and  small  Japan- 
ese stencils,  with  which  to  experiment. 

In  conclusion,  I  would  call  the  attention 
of  my  readers  to  the  great  possibilities  of 
this  art.  For  art  instruction,  for  house- 
hold decoration,  and  for  dress  goods  its 
uses  are  limitless. 


Ii8 


MANUAL  TRAINING  IN  THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOLS 


THE  recent  exhibition  of  the  work 
of  pupils  in  the  manual  training 
department  of  the  New  York 
Public  Schools  was  interesting  for 
the  reason  that  anything  which  tends  to- 
ward teaching  children  to  use  their  hands 
in  the  making  of  useful  things  is  an  im- 
provement on  the  education  which  depends 
upon  book  learning  alone.  Yet  to  the  close 
observer  the  collection  of  work  was  elo- 
quent of  the  weakness  that  mars  our  whole 
system  of  manual  training  in  the  public 
schools,  for  the  reason  that  none  of  it  was 
of  the  kind  which  argued  a  training  that 
could  be  put  to  practical  use  in  later  years. 
Manual  training  in  our  public  schools 
started  some  years  ago  in  a  kindergarten 
way  with  the  teaching  of  sloyd,  which,  as 
I  understand  it,  was  purely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  developing  the  brain  through  train- 
ing the  hands.  The  things  made  by  the 
students  of  sloyd  seldom  amounted  to 
much,  and  so  the  making  of  furniture 
such  as  was  shown  at  this  exhibition  was 
a  step  in  the  right  direction.  As  yet,  how- 
ever, it  is  not  a  long  step,  for  the  reason 
that  the  training  is  still  inadequate,  being 
essentially  in  the  direction  of  purely  theo- 
retical education  and  away  from  practical 
things. 

A  criticism  of  the  quality  of  work  that 
was  shown  was  met  somewhat  indignantly 
by  the  assertion  that  it  was  not  the  work 
of  trained  cabinetmakers,  but  of  school- 
boys. That  is  exactly  the  point  upon  which 
the  entire  system  is  weak.  Considered 
from  that  point  of  view,  it  is  all  play  work, 
undertaken  merely  as  a  matter  of  training, 
and  the  boy  is  treated  as  an  inexperienced 


child  who  is  allowed  to  play  at  work  be- 
cause of  its  beneficial  eflfect  upon  his  char- 
acter and  mental  development,  in  the  place 
of  learning  to  do  real  work  that  in  itself 
amounts  to  something.  Instead  of  being 
taught  sound  principles  of  design  and  con- 
struction and  so  guided  that  all  his  work 
is  based  upon  these  principles,  he  is  en- 
couraged to  "express  his  own  individuality 
in  designing  and  making  the  thing  that  ap- 
peals to  him."  This  is  all  very  well,  if  the 
work  is  merely  regarded  as  play ;  but  if  it 
is  regarded  as  a  preparation  for  the  serious 
business  of  later  life,  it  unfits  the  student 
for  real  work  in  just  such  measure  as  he 
shows  an  aptitude  for  this  play  work. 

To  a  practical  man,  the  part  of  all  edu- 
cation that  seems  most  necessary  to  life  as 
we  have  to  live  it,  is  work.  From  the 
very  beginning  of  civilization,  the  ability 
to  make  necessary  things  has  been  the  most 
essential  part  of  the  training  of  any  man 
or  woman,  and  this  is  just  as  true  today 
as  it  was  in  the  time  of  the  Cliff  Dwellers. 
As  the  race  grew  and  added  one  experi- 
ence to  another,  the  sum  of  the  whole 
amounted  to  what  we  call  civilization.  Yet 
however  far  this  advances,  it  rests  always 
upon  the  same  foundation, — the  ability  to 
make  the  necessary  things  which  we  re- 
quire. Our  greatest  men  have  won  their 
place  in  history  because  with  them  book 
education  was  founded  upon  exactly  this 
homely  practical  training.  When  we  re- 
verse the  process  and  add  what  we  call 
manual  training  to  book  learning,  we  do 
not  produce  men  of  the  same  caliber. 

There  is  no  question  as  to  the  benefit 
boys  —  and  girls  too  —  derive  from  being 

"9 


MANUAL  TRAINING  IN   THE   PUBLIC   SCHOOLS 


taught  to  work.  But  it  is  better  not  to 
teach  them  at  all  than  to  give  them  the 
wrong  teaching.  Take,  for  example,  this 
very  question  of  cabinet  work.  No  one 
expects  a  schoolboy  to  make  elaborate 
pieces  of  furniture  that  would  equal  sim- 
ilar pieces  made  by  a  trained  cabinet- 
maker. But  why  not  try  simpler  pieces, 
and  so  begin  at  the  bottom,  where  all 
work  naturally  begins,  instead  of  at  the 
top?  If  he  is  taught  to  make  small  and 
simple  things  and  to  make  each  one  so 
that  it  would  pass  muster  anywhere  he 
learns  at  the  start  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  design  and  proportion  and  to 
understand  what  is  meant  by  thorough 
workmanship. 

There  is  no  objection  to  his  expressing 
his  own  individuality,  but  the  natural  thing 
would  be  for  him  to  express  it  in  more  or 
less  primitive  forms  of  construction  that 
are,  as  far  as  they  go,  correct,  instead  of 
attempting  something  that,  when  it  is 
finished,  is  all  wrong  because  the  boy  has 
not  understood  what  he  was  about.  Un- 
questionably, there  are  certain  principles 
and  rules  as  to  design,  proportion  and 
form  that  are  as  fundamental  in  their 
nature  as  the  tables  of  addition,  subtrac- 
tion, division  and  multiplication  with  re- 
lation to  mathematics,  or  as  the  alphabet 
is  as  a  basis  to  literature.  The  trained 
worker  learns  these  things  by  experience 
and  comes  to  have  a  sort  of  sixth  sense 
with  regard  to  their  application.  But  this 
takes  strong,  direct  thinking,  keen  obser- 
vation and  the  power  of  initiative  that  is 
possessed  only  by  the  very  exceptional 
worker  and  is  almost  impossible  for  a 
schoolboy. 

The  builders  who  created  Greek  and 
Gothic  architecture  worked  out  these  prin- 
ciples for  themselves,  because  they  thought 
in  a  way  that  enabled  them  to  handle  to 
the  best  advantage  the  materials  that  they 
had  to  use,  and  upon  this  was  raised  the 
whole  structure  of  the  two  greatest  styles 
in  architecture.  They  had  no  precedent, 
no  machines,  no  ready-made  ornamenta- 
tion to  be  applied  according  to  the  dictates 
of  untrained  fancy.     But  the  human  ele- 


ment was  there.  They  simply  worked 
until  they  found  the  answer  to  each  prob- 
lem in  turn,  and  when  they  found  it,  it 
was  right.  The  rules  came  later ;  but  the 
principles  upon  which  the  rules  were 
founded  were  discovered  in  the  very  be- 
ginning. 

We  are  too  hedged  about  with  precedent 
now  to  make  it  easy  for  our  young  workers 
to  do  the  simple,  straightforward  thing 
and  to  discover  by  experience  the  differ- 
ence between  right  and  wrong  in  the  work 
they  do.  But  it  surely  is  as  easy  to  teach 
them  to  do  the  right  thing  as  the  wrong 
thing.  It  would  be  better  if  all  the  teach- 
ing were  based  upon  some  text  book  care- 
fully compiled  by  a  master  workman  and 
kept  within  certain  well  defined  limits. 
After  the  student  had  thoroughly  learned 
all  that  lay  within  these  limits  and  was 
grounded  in  the  principles  of  design  and 
construction  as  carefully  as  he  would  be 
grounded  in  mathematics  or  classic  litera- 
ture, he  might  safely  be  trusted  to  pro- 
duce something  that  would  express  his 
own  individuality, — for  then,  if  ever,  he 
would  have  developed  an  individuality  that 
was  worth  while.  But  as  it  is,  the  teacher 
of  manual  training  seldom  has  any  prac- 
tical working  knowledge  of  his  craft.  He 
never  thinks  of  working  out  each  problem 
according  to  the  principles  which  he  has 
proven  by  his  own  experience,  but  either 
suggests  or  accepts  a  design  that  shows  a 
dozen  incongruities  which  neither  he  nor 
the  pupil  recognize  because  they  do  not 
know  the  underlying  laws  upon  which  all 
design  and  construction  depend.  For  ex- 
ample, a  teacher  will  set  a  boy  to  building 
a  plain  bookcase.  The  boy  and  the  master 
together  work  out  the  design,  but  not 
knowing  that  the  style  suggested  depends 
entirely  upon  good  lines,  exact  proportions 
and  interesting  color  and  texture  brought 
out  in  the  wood  itself,  the  bookcase  is 
built  upon  the  plan  that  entirely  disregards 
these  things.  Then  to  conceal  the  flaws 
in  workmanship  and  to  remedy  the  lack 
of  interest,  a  machine  made  molding  is 
put  on  the  edge  of  each  shelf  and  up  the 
sides,  and  the  top  edge  which,  to  be   in 


120 


A  RUSTIC  PERGOLA  OF  THE  SIMPLEST  CONSTRUC- 
TION, HIDDEN  BY  ROSES  IN  JUNE  AND  GRAPES 
IN    AUTUMN. 


See   t^'TRe    in8 


CAUDENS  KOR  SIMPLE  HOt'SES  SHOUI.n  BE  SIMPLE, 
UUT  TLANNKIi  WITH  A  SENSE  OF  ORDER  AND  AN 
ArrRECIATKlX    OF    THE    VALL'E    OF    COLOR. 


THERE    ARE    WAYS    or    ARRANCING    A    I.ARHEN     TO 
SlIT  THE    AKI  nilK(  URAL    STYLE  OF   THE    HOL'SE." 


Courtesy    of  Country   Life  in    America. 


SHOWING  WHAT  CAN  BE  ACCOM PLIS II KD  IN  THE 
WAY  OF  IlEAUTY  BY  THE  USE  OF  A  TINV  STREAM 
OF    WATER. 


Couyffsy    of  Coiiulry   Life   in    .-Unrrii'n. 


A  KliAl.  lAI'ANl^E  GAKDEX  W  II.I.  HAVE  NOT  ONLY 
WATEU  I'.rl  A  IKMI'I.E  LANTEKN.  A  KHONZE  STORK 
AMI    A     riNV     IMAGE    OK    HI'IIHHA. 


ALS   IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


harmony,  should  carry  a  plain,  smooth 
line,  is  fretted  into  a  fantastic  shape  that 
is  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  such  a  piece. 

It  is  futile  to  say  of  this  sort  of  work 
that  it  was  done  by  a  schoolboy  and  there- 
fore what  could  we  expect.  The  fault  is 
not  the  boy's,  but  the  teacher's ;  and  these 
things  do  not  reflect  upon  the  capability  of 
the  student,  but  upon  the  training  that  he 
receives. 

What  is  needed  in  our  public  schools  is 
a  system  of  manual  training  which  de- 
mands the  employment  of  teachers  who 
are  masters  in  the  craft  that  is  taught.  If 
these  teachers  are  high  priced,  the  country 
should  pay  the  price,  because  no  branch 
of  education  is  more  valuable  than  right 
training  in  this  direction.  The  children 
are  helpless  in  the  matter  and  we  exploit 
them  as  we  exploit  everything  else,  but 
they  have  a  right  to  the  best  that  money 
can  buy  and  we  have  no  right  to  waste  the 
time  and  abilit>'  of  boys  and  girls  who  are 
getting  the  training  that  is  to  fit  them  for 
the  work  of  their  whole  lives.  If  a  child 
has  only  a  little  time  to  devote  to  manual 
training,  he  should  be  taught  only  a  little ; 
but  that  little  should  be  as  thoroughly 
taught  as  if  he  were  to  become  a  master 
cabinetmaker.  He  may  not  make  many 
pieces  of  furniture,  but  what  he  does  will 
be  done  well  and  the  next  generation  will 
have  better  tastes  and  standards  of  work 
and  of  art  because  of  it. 

NOTES 

FOLLOWING  the  international  ex- 
hibition of  modern  photography  at 
the  National  Arts  Club  came  the 
"Retrospective  Exhibition"  of  the 
work  of  John  W.  Alexander  arranged  by 
Frederick  S.  Lamb  and  J.  Nilsen  Laurvik. 
Sixty-three  paintings  were  exhibited  and 
twenty-nine  photographs  and  drawings, 
the  largest  single  man's  exhibit  that  the 
National  Arts  has  shown,  so  far  as  the 
writer  knows.  The  pictures  were  hung 
with  rare  skill  and  taste,  so  that  upon 
entering  the  gallery  there  was  a  sense  of 
pleasure  from  harmonious  grouping  in  re- 


lation to  color  and  composition  even  be- 
fore getting  at  the  individual  beauty  of 
the  separate  canvases.  And  of  the  sheer 
beauty  of  many  of  these  paintings  of  Mr. 
Alexander's  there  can  be  no  question,  for 
there  is  beauty  of  hue  and  a  strange 
whimsical,  almost  Japanese,  decorative 
quality  which  is  rare  in  any  modern  por- 
trait, and  wholly  different  from  the 
Mediaeval  decorative  tendency  in  portraits, 
which  was  markedly  ecclesiastical.  When 
in  Mr.  Alexander's  work  this  decorative 
quality  is  held  subservient  to  the  purpose 
of  composition  and  does  not  encroach  upon 
the  expression  of  individuality  of  the  sub- 
ject it  is  most  interesting  because  it  is 
personal  to  the  artist  and  places  portrait 
painting  on  a  new  plane ;  but  when  it 
escapes  its  limitations  and  presents  Mr. 
Alexander's  impulse  toward  life  as  he  sees 
it  from  year  to  year  rather  than  that  of 
the  sitter  one  feels  (especially  at  a  large 
showing  of  his  work)  a  certain  sameness 
in  the  presentation  of  different  subjects,  a 
monotony  of  appreciation  of  life,  which 
diminishes  one's  first  impression  of  great- 
ness. At  times  he  seems  not  so  much  to 
present  his  models  with  each  separate  re- 
mote elusive  temperament  as  to  reiterate 
over  and  over  again  his  own  kind  of  per- 
sonality, his  subjective  attitude  toward  his 
art.  And  if  his  expressions  were  not  so 
largely  conveyed  to  the  world  through  por- 
traiture one  would  cherish  this  repeated 
decorative  quality  as  a  most  intimate  reve- 
lation of  Mr.  Alexander's  method  of  tell- 
ing the  kind  of  things  which  most  inter- 
ested him  in  life.  But  a  portrait  seems 
somehow  to  establish  a  certain  limitation 
to  the  freedom  of  artistic  expression.  It 
does  not  seem  to  be  how  the  artist  paints  a 
portrait,  but  rather  what  he  is  willing  to 
express  in  the  portrait,  to  what  extent  he 
finds  an  essential  originality  and  personal 
freshness  in  each  sitter  which  it  becomes 
his  business  to  put  upon  his  canvas.  And 
so  in  a  portrait  we  grant  a  man  his  own 
manner,  but  not  a  mannerism,  lest  the 
mannerism  seem  to  be  inherent  in  tlie  sub- 
ject. However,  this  is  but  one  opinion 
and  not  the  usual  one  of  Mr.  Alexander's 

121 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


work.  I  find  that  many  people  are  most 
absorbed  in  what  they  call  Mr.  Alexander's 
style,  the  particular  quality  which  is  orig- 
inal with  him,  except  as  he  may  have  felt 
it  in  phases  of  Japanese  art;  or  may  not. 
It  is  this  quality  in  fact  that  many  seek  for 
and  especially  crave  in  sitting  to  him  for 
a  portrait.  And,  too,  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  escape  the  charm  of  it,  particu- 
larly where  it  seems  related  to  the  type 
painted. 

But  far  greater  than  this  style  in  Mr. 
Alexander's  work  the  writer  feels  his  sym- 
pathetic treatment  of  the  emotional  quality 
in  womankind,  the  delicate  adjustment  of 
tone  to  temperament,  and  his  rare  under- 
standing that  so  often  beauty  is  but  radi- 
ance and  grace  but  an  expression  of  a 
quality  of  the  soul. 

KNOEDLER  has  recently  had  an  ex- 
hibition of  the  water  color  drawings 
of  John  Singer  Sargent.  They  have 
evoked  almost  universal  praise,  even  to 
being  likened  in  color  and  sunlight  effects 
to  Sorolla's  landscapes.  One  critic  was 
absolutely  startled  by  the  "bewildering 
richness  of  their  color,  by  the  movement 
of  the  waters,  the  modeling  of  the  human 
figures,  by  the  drawing  of  even  the  rig- 
ging, and  all  apparently  dashed  in  care- 
lessly, but  every  stroke  telling."  And  we 
are  told  that  although  there  "are  eighty- 
six  of  Mr.  Sargent's  drawings  in  the  col- 
lection every  one  of  them  is  worth  study- 
ing, for  each  teaches  a  lesson  of  how  great 
effects  can  be  produced  by  the  simple 
methods  if  only  you  have  the  genius  and 
training  to  work  simply."  It  is  all  very 
perplexing,  for  what  the  eye  of  the  lay- 
man really  seemed  to  see  in  this  collection 
was  a  lot  of  drawing,  often  brilliant  and 
dashing,  but  without  the  gift  of  composi- 
tion or  the  illusion  of  reality  which  comes 
from  enveloping  atmosphere,  and  almost 
wholly  lacking  in  the  power  of  elimination 
which  enables  the  artist  to  suggest  a  com- 
plete scene  rather  than  paint  in  every 
detail.  It  also  seemed  that  it  was  only 
when  a  group  of  figures  or  a  single  face 
or  figure  were  introduced  that  one  realized 


the  real  Sargent,  the  most  intrepid  master 
in  the  painting  of  human  beings  of  these 
modern  days.  He  has,  to  be  sure,  selected 
interesting  lands  in  which  to  paint,  from 
Galilee  to  the  Grand  Canal,  and  he  has 
evidently  found  it  a  pleasant  relaxing 
change  from  gray  London  and  smart 
people ;  but  change  is  not  all  that  is  essen- 
tial to  develop  a  fresh  channel  of  art  ex- 
pression. It  is  necessary  for  a  man  to  look 
in  four  different  directions  to  realize  the 
circumference  of  the  earth,  and  traveling 
to  the  Orient  does  not  make  Sargent  a 
painter  of  all  the  various  phases  of  art 
which  are  undoubtedly  latent  in  so  great 
a  master. 

A  recent  exhibition  at  the  Macbeth  Gal- 
leries which  has  aroused  widespread 
interest  among  painters  and  critics  was  a 
collection  of  thirty-eight  of  Arthur  B.  Da- 
vies'  unusual  paintings.  Among  this  extra- 
ordinary collection  of  small  canvases  there 
were  some  which  seemed  most  alluring- 
ly interesting,  as  Pelleas  and  Melisande  is 
interesting  to  one  not  a  musician, — remote 
and  strange,  with  a  half-expressed  melody. 
There  were  others  which  in  sections  (and 
often  Mr.  Davies'  pictures  seem  divided 
in  sections)  were  poetical  or  vividly  real. 
But  as  a  whole  the  effect  of  the  picture 
gallery  on  the  "untrained  critic"  (who  Mr. 
Macbeth  naturally  finds  a  thorn  in  the 
flesh)  was  one  of  great  bewilderment,  of 
"something  far  too  fine  and  good  for 
human  nature's  daily  food."  It  was  not 
merely  as  though  Mr.  Davies  made  you 
feel  that  he  had  approached  heights  too 
fine  for  the  "untrained  critic,"  but  rather 
that  his  ideal  interested  him  and  that  he 
had  not  thought  his  public  worth  an  ex- 
planation. And  even  this  you  would  for- 
give (a  word  which  will  amuse  Mr. 
Davies)  if  you  could  without  the  clue  find 
a  thrill  in  his  art,  in  spite  of  his  eccentric 
composition  and  usually  weird  drawing 
and  most  often  than  not  whimsical  color. 
Personally,  I  do  not  always  understand 
exactly  what  Miss  Pamela  Colman  Smith 
has  dreamed  of  in  some  of  her  strange 
fantastic  drawings,  but  almost  invariably 


122 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


I  catch  a  glimpse  of  another  land  and  find 
my  imagination  stirred  and  feel  an  extra 
heart  beat.  But  what  one  really  thinks  or 
writes  about  these  matters  makes  but  little 
difference  to  a  man  like  Arthur  B.  Davies, 
for  there  is  always  the  public  who  adores 
(if  one  is  perplexing  enough)  and  there  is 
always  the  public  who  is  afraid  not  to 
adore,  for  the  same  reason,  and  they  form 
a  goodly  gathering. 

THERE  has  probably  never  been  a 
season  in  New  York  when  so  much 
vital  progressive  distinctive  American  art 
has  been  shown.  The  galleries  have  been 
filled  with  exhibits  pressing  upon  one  an- 
other for  time  and  space  and  crowded  with 
interested  spectators  since  the  opening 
time  in  October.  And  I  understand  from 
the  dealers  that  this  ranks  as  a  banner 
year  for  the  production,  display  and  sale 
of  American  art,  which,  of  course,  means 
an  ever  growing  intelligent  appreciation  of 
the  significance  of  our  own  art  production. 
We  have  found  our  space  in  this  depart- 
ment of  The  Craftsman  far  too  limited 
to  make  mention  of  the  really  significant 
exhibits  from  month  to  month,  even  had 
we  published  only  the  work  bearing  upon 
the  development  of  American  art  along 
channels  of  widespread  importance.  It 
was  The  Craftsman's  purpose  to  make 
very  special  mention  of  the  paintings  of 
D.  W.  Tryon  exhibited  at  the  Montross 
Galleries  early  in  February,  for  there  is  no 
more  sincere  artist  in  the  expressing  of 
American  landscapes,  no  more  genuine 
poet  of  the  brush  than  Mr.  Tryon.  From 
season  to  season  one  feels  this  more  fully, 
whether  he  is  painting  a  bit  of  sea  shim- 
mering in  the  moonlight  or  a  faint  stretch 
of  country  road  leading  somehow  to  a 
spiritual  farmhouse  where  the  light  in  the 
window  seems  a  symbol  of  all  lovely  home 
influence. — Following  this  exhibit  was  the 
worth  while  showing  of  a  collection  of 
paintings  by  Alexander  Schilling,  the  de- 
velopment of  whose  art  we  have  watched 
with  interest  for  the  past  few  years. — And 
again  most  especially  was  it  our  purpose 
to  study  at  length  the  monotypes  and  etch- 


ings of  Eugene  Higgins  exhibited  the  first 
of  March  at  the  galleries  of  Frederick 
Keppel  &  Co.  We  know  well  Mr.  Higgins' 
paintings  of  poverty  and  his  extraordinary 
gift  in  translating  the  discordant  notes  of 
suffering  into  the  subtler  harmonies  of  art. 
Mr.  Higgins  reaches  out  into  the  vague 
essence  of  poverty  and  he  more  often  than 
not  ignores  the  repugnant  detail  and  pre- 
sents rather  vast,  gloomy  sociological  con- 
ditions, the  dull  gray  waste  spaces  in  life. 
His  work  is  not  by  any  means  a  purely  sen- 
timental interest  in  the  poor,  which  some 
of  us  occasionally  feel  because  of  personal 
experience.  It  is  rather  a  profound  appre- 
hension of  the  value  to  art  of  the  great 
spectral  shadows  which  society  casts  in  her 
self -centered  tumultuous  progress. 

In  quite  a  different  vein  one  finds  the 
exhibit  of  Blendin  Campbell  at  his  stable 
studio  in  MacDougal  Alley.  Mr.  Camp- 
bell has  not,  so  far,  concentrated  his  gift 
of  expressing  life  on  any  one  phase  of 
life,  but  has  evidently  striven  to  hold  him- 
self sensitive  to  the  beauty  of  many  con- 
ditions in  turn,  until  he  has  expressed 
them  through  a  technique  adapted  to  the 
subject.  In  his  studio  exhibit  were  hung 
side  by  side  a  far  reach  of  cool  glimmer- 
ing river  and  a  hot,  dingy,  murking,  reek- 
ing Chinese  interior  where  a  group  of 
glowering  Oriental  figures  crept  out  of  the 
Rembrandt  shadows ;  as  one  glanced  from 
one  subject  to  the  other,  one  began  to  un- 
derstand something  of  this  man's  interest 
in  life. 

At  the  Macbeth  Galleries  two  exhibi- 
tions of  special  quality  extended  through 
much  of  January  and  February,  the  land- 
scape work  of  Henry  W.  Ranger  and  the 
sea  pictures  of  Paul  Dougherty,  both  of 
these  men,  specialists,  as  it  were,  in  their 
own  vital  field  of  art. 

An  exhibition  of  quite  another  kind  was 
the  collection  of  "Portraits  in  Miniature" 
shown  at  the  rooms  of  the  National  So- 
ciety of  Craftsmen,  painted  by  Mrs.  James 
Condie  Kindlund.  The  work  was  of  the 
exquisitely  delicate  sort  one  remembers  in 
the  old  miniatures  by  early  English  artists 
prized  today  in  rare  collections.    But  com- 

123 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


bined  with  this  typical  miniature  presenta- 
tion, particularly  noticeable  in  the  faces  of 
the  portraits,  there  was  a  certain  breadth 
of  bnish  work  in  the  backgrounds  and 
costumes  which  rendered  the  ensemble  at 
once  both  modern  and  classic.  One  also 
received  an  impression  of  distinct  person- 
ality in  the  varying  portraits  and  of  the 
artist's  very  strong  sense  of  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  youth.  Mrs.  Kindlund  is 
from  Buffalo  and  this  most  creditable  ex- 
hibit was  her  New  York  debut. 

During  February  the  Carnegie  Institute 
held  an  exhibition  of  drawings,  studies 
and  photographs  of  completed  mural  deco- 
rations by  Edwin  H.  Blashfield.  This 
grouping  together  of  most  of  the  work  of 
this  artist  afforded  to  the  student  and  art 
lover  an  interesting  opportunity  for  a 
better  conception  of  the  scope  and  signifi- 
cance of  Mr.  Blashfield's  achievement. 

A  special  exhibition  of  laces,  textiles 
and  pottery  made  by  the  Handicraft 
School  of  Greenwich  House  was  held  for 
a  short  time  this  winter  at  the  studios  of 
the  National  Society  of  Craftsmen. 

At  the  Bauer-Folsom  Galleries,  New 
York,  two  interesting  exhibitions  of  por- 
traits were  held  this  winter.  In  one  was 
shown  the  work  of  Richard  Hall  and  in 
the  other  paintings  by  Charles  Frederick 
Naegele. 

Early  this  year  the  Albright  Art  Gallery 
of  Buffalo  held  exhibitions  of  paintings  in 
which  were  shown  the  work  of  F.  K.  M. 
Rehn,  Henry  M.  Poore,  and  a  little  later 
one  by  William  M.  Chase  was  opened. 
Mr.  Rehn  showed  a  number  of  marines, 
some  landscapes  of  America  and  scenes  in 
Venice.  Winter  landscapes  of  New  Eng- 
land and  scenes  of  homely  outdoor  life 
were  shown  in  Mr.  Poore's  paintings,  and 
the  exhibition  of  Mr.  Chase's  work  was 
most  comprehensive,  including  portraits, 
studies,   landscapes  and   still   life. 

H.  Wunderlich  &  Co.  have  held  in  their 
galleries  an  interesting  exhibition  of  etch- 
ings by  Frank  Brangwyn,  an  English  artist 
who  finds  most  of  his  subjects  among  the 
workers  of  the  world.     Besides  the  por- 


trayal of  the  humbler  parts  of  London 
and  its  people,  some  lovely  bits  of  France 
and  Italy  were  shown  in  this  collection. 

The  Buffalo  Society  of  Artists  have  an- 
nounced their  Fifth  Annual  Exhibition  of 
arts  and  crafts  to  be  held  in  late  March 
and  early  April  in  the  Albright  Galleries. 

Two  exhibits  were  held  during  March 
at  the  Carnegie  Institute,  Pittsburgh.  In 
one  was  shown  a  representative  collection 
of  paintings  by  "The  Eight,"  comprising 
seventy-seven  pictures,  and  the  other  was 
a  memorial  exhibition  of  thirty-six  of  the 
works  of  George  Hetzel. 

An  exhibition  of  definite  interest  was 
held  in  the  Frederick  Keppel  Galleries  this 
winter,  when  a  number  of  etchings  of 
Paris  by  Charles  Meryon  were  shown. 
The  collection  was  most  representative  of 
this  artist's  work  and  included  in  many 
instances  several  impressions  of  the  same 
plate  in  diflferent  states. 

Early  in  March  the  Woman's  Art  Club 
of  New  York  held  an  exhibition  of  water 
colors,  pastels,  sculptures  and  miniatures 
at  the  rooms  of  Hamilton  Bell  &  Co.  The 
landscapes  and  sculptures  ranked  high 
among  the  achievement,  and  some  good 
work  in  portraiture,  both  in  pastels  and 
miniatures,  was  shown. 

WE  would  like  to  call  attention  to  the 
fact  that  the  two  carved  chests  ap- 
pearing on  page  731  of  the  March  Crafts- 
man were  wrongly  attributed  to  the  work- 
manship of  Mr.  Karl  von  Rydingsvard, 
whereas  they  were  really  the  handiwork 
of  two  of  his  pupils.  The  Viking  chest 
on  the  upper  part  of  the  page  was  designed 
and  e.xecuted  by  Miss  ATabel  Runette,  and 
the  lower  chest  of  Assyrian  design  was  the 
work  of  Miss  Hetta  Ward. 


REVIEWS 

IN    these    days    when    Spanish    art    is 
reviving    to    such    a    degree    that    it 
appears  likely  to  influence  the  art  of 
all  Europe,  the  student  would  find  it 
well  worth  his  while  to  give  careful  study 


124 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


to  a  book  by  Mr.  Leonard  Williams,  en- 
titled, "The  Arts  and  Crafts  of  Older 
Spain."  This  work,  which  is  exhaustive 
and  scholarly,  naturally  contains  much  that 
is  historical,  as  the  arts  of  the  people  and 
the  crafts,  which  were  evolved  from  the 
needs  of  common  life,  can  be  explained 
only  by  telling  something  of  the  story  of 
the  times  which  produced  them. 

The  book  is  divided  into  three  volumes, 
handsomely  bound  in  light  gray  boards 
with  white  linen  backs.  Part  of  the  first 
volume  is  devoted  to  the  gold,  silver  and 
jewel  work  of  Spain,  which  owes  so  much 
of  its  richness  to  the  Moorish  art  which 
so  long  dominated  Spain.  The  remainder 
of  the  volume  is  given  to  iron  work, 
bronzes  and  arms,  thus  gathering  all 
phases  of  the  metal  workers'  craft  into 
one  group. 

The  second  volume  deals  with  furniture, 
ivories,  pottery  and  glass.  Here  again  the 
Moorish  work  is  prominent  in  the  gor- 
geousness  of  its  fancy  and  the  delicate 
elaboration  of  the  execution.  Many  quaint 
legends  are  connected  with  the  descrip- 
tions of  the  different  pieces,  so  that  the 
reader  obtains  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  atti- 
tude of  mind  which  found  expression  in 
these  gorgeous  and  often  fantastic  forms. 

The  third  volume  is  given  over  to  textile 
fabrics,  including  Spanish  silk,  cloths  and 
woolens,  embroidery,  tapestry  and  lace, 
showing  in  many  cases  the  methods  of 
working  and  giving  an  excellent  idea  of 
Spanish  tastes  and  requirements. 

All  three  books  are  amply  illustrated 
with  half-tones  and  line  cuts,  showing 
famous  pieces  and  characteristic  designs. 
The  descriptive  matter  is  carefully  com- 
piled and  is  written  with  so  much  under- 
standing and  charm  of  style  that  it  has 
the  interest  of  a  continued  narrative. 

The  third  volume  is  prefaced  by  an  in- 
troduction which  reviews  the  entire  course 
of  the  textile  industry  in  Spain  and  gives 
one  of  those  illuminating  side  glimpses 
which  throws  so  much  light  on  historic 
events.  The  extensive  bibliography  offers 
even.'  opportunity  for  the  reader  to  carry 
on  more  extensive  researches  into  the  his- 


tory of  any  craft  which  interests  him. 
("The  Arts  and  Crafts  of  Older  Spain." 
By  Leonard  Williams,  Corresponding 
Alember  of  the  Royal  Spanish  Academies 
of  History  and  of  the  Fine  Arts.  Issued 
in  the  "World  of  Art  Series."  Three  vol- 
umes, profusely  illustrated;  about  290 
pages  each.  Price  of  the  set  $4.50  net. 
Published  by  A.  C.  McClurg  and  Com- 
pany.) 

DR.  NICHOLAS  MURRAY  BUT- 
LER has  given  us  another  signifi- 
cant little  volume  which  is  most  valuable 
as  a  study  of  American  life  and  progress. 
It  is  entitled  "The  American  as  He  Is," 
and  is  divided  into  three  chapters :  Tlif 
American  as  a  Political  Type;  The  Ameri- 
can Apart  from  His  Government;  and  The 
A-nierican  and  the  Intellectual  Life. 

The  first  deals  with  the  American  type 
as  a  unit,  giving  full  weight  to  the  per- 
sistence of  the  Anglo-Saxon  impulse  and 
its  extraordinary  effect  in  developing 
what  promises  to  be  a  homogeneous  na- 
tional character  from  the  chaotic  elements 
which  go  to  making  up  the  American  peo- 
ple. Dr.  Butler  attributes  the  develop- 
ment of  this  unit  largely  to  the  broaden- 
ing effect  of  interstate  migration  and  to 
the  influence  of  voluntary  organizations 
that  are  national  in  their  scope  and  that 
serve  to  draw  together  what  otherwise 
might  be  provincial  and  mutually  hostile 
elements.  Our  Federal  Government,  es- 
pecially within  the  last  few  years,  has  also 
served  as  a  strong  force  for  the  bringing 
about  of  national  and  political  unity. 

Dr.  Butler  takes  up  the  question  of 
American  politics  and  treats  it  succinctly, 
with  due  recognition  of  the  innate  con- 
servatism of  the  American  people  and 
of  their  reverence  for  the  rule  of  the 
Constitution  and  for  the  Judiciary  as 
an  organ  of  government.  He  asserts 
that  the  Courts  represent  the  settled 
habits  of  thinking  of  the  American 
people,  as  either  President  or  Congress 
may  be  influenced  by  the  passions  and 
clamor  of  the  moment,  but  the  Federal 
Courts  are  there  to  decide  rationally  as  to 


125 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:   REVIEWS 


the  exact  merits  of  the  case  and  to  up- 
hold the  principles  laid  down  in  the  Con- 
stitution. This  conservatism  Dr.  Butler 
dwells  upon  with  a  special  emphasis  as 
being  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of 
the  American  form  of  government.  By  its 
action  every  immediate  demand  for  po- 
litical action  is  tested  as  to  its  validity 
through  the  standard  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  organized  government  em- 
bodied in  the  Constitution.  And  when  it 
comes  to  the  final  decision,  it  is  this  rule 
of  principles,  not  of  man,  which  dominates 
all  American  political  action. 

The  remainder  of  the  book  is  devoted 
to  a  keen  study  of  the  American  as  the 
individual,  showing  his  most  salient  char- 
acteristics and  the  spirit  of  American  life 
as  a  whole.  This  naturally  includes  a 
study  of  American  business  methods,  the 
large  corporations  and  the  growth  of  the 
new  and  vigorous  intellectual  movement 
which  even  now  is  shaping  itself  as  a 
natural  expression  of  the  national  life. 
which  is  becoming  more  definitely  co- 
ordinated with  every  decade  that  passes. 
("The  American  as  He  Is."  By  Nicho- 
las Murray  Butler,  President  of  Columbia 
University.  97  pages.  Price  $1.00  net. 
Published  by  The  Macmillan  Company, 
New  York.) 

THERE  is  no  greater  evidence  of  the 
general  awakening  of  woman  into  a 
broader  life  than  is  given  by  the  way  in 
which  the  home-keeping,  domestic  woman 
is  applying  her  new  found  knowledge  and 
her  larger  point  of  view  to  the  improve- 
ment of  home  conditions.  A  book  that 
deals  clearly  and  forcefully  with  this 
phase  of  the  subject  is  "Home  Problems 
from  a  New  Standpoint,"  by  Caroline  L. 
Hunt.  It  is  not  only  worth  reading,  but 
it  is  a  book  that  no  woman  can  well  aflford 
to  miss  reading,  because  it  is  written  sanely 
and  reasonably,  with  a  full  recognition  of 
all  the  ambitions  as  well  as  the  limitations 
of  woman  and  is  full  of  valuable  sugges- 
tions for  extending  the  boundaries  of  the 
limitations  and  giving  reasonable  satisfac- 
tion to  the  ambitions  even  while  curbing 

126 


their  tendency  to  overweening  growth. 
The  claims  of  man  upon  woman  as  the 
home-maker  are  by  no  means  ignored,  the 
effort  of  the  author  being  to  give  to  the 
breadwinner  all  that  is  his  due, — and  more 
than  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  he  has  been 
accustomed  to  receiving, — while  at  the 
same  time  putting  a  check  upon  the  kind 
of  demand  which  tends  to  make  woman 
little  more  than  a  domestic  slave.  The 
servant  girl  also  comes  in  for  her  share  of 
fair  dealing,  the  author  urging  strongly 
that  she  be  treated  not  as  a  servant  but  as 
a  "household  employee,"  and  given  the 
same  freedom  and  dignity,  as  regards  her 
work  and  her  own  individuality,  which  is 
accorded  without  question  to  other  em- 
ployees. Practical  solutions  for  the  prob- 
lems of  household  drudgery  are  also  sug- 
gested, the  author  putting  in  a  strong  word 
for  more  simplicity  in  our  homes  and 
habits  and  for  the  encouragement  of  co- 
operative enterprises  by  which  the  bulk  of 
the  work  might  be  done  by  specialists,  who 
would  treat  it  as  a  regular  business,  in- 
stead of  being  done  laboriously  and  waste- 
fully  in  each  individual  home. 

The  book  is  not  a  large  one,  but  it  is 
full  of  meat  and  it  will  undoubtedly  prove 
inspiring  and  helpful  to  all  women  who 
really  wish  to  take  hold  of  the  work  which 
it  is  given  them  to  do  and  to  do  it  in 
the  best  way  for  all  concerned.  ("Home 
Problems  from  a  New  Standpoint."  By 
Caroline  L.  Hunt.  145  pages.  Price  $1.00 
net.  Published  by  Whitcomb  &  Barrows, 
Boston.) 

WHILE  he  was  still  a  power  to  be 
reckoned  with  by  the  white  settlers 
of  this  country,  the  Indian  was  known 
simply  as  an  inconvenient  and  sometimes 
dangerous  trespasser  upon  lands  which 
belonged  by  Divine  right  to  the  white  race 
from  over  the  seas;  but  now  that  he  is 
merely  a  representative  of  a  helpless  race 
that  within  another  century  will  probably 
be  extinct,  the  Indian  is  becoming  a  matter 
of  historical  interest  not  only  to  the 
ethnologist,  but  to  the  ordinary  reader. 
The  latter  will  find  much  to  interest  him 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:   REVIEWS 


in  "True  Indian  Stories," — a  book  of 
mingled  history  and  legend  written  by  Mr. 
Jacob  Piatt  Dunn,  Secretary  of  the  Indiana 
Historical  Societj".  Mr.  Dunn  has  already 
written  several  Indian  books  and  is  widely 
known  as  an  authority  upon  the  subject ; 
but  this  one,  although  historical,  shows  an 
intimate  understanding  of  the  red  man's 
side  of  the  case,  which  makes  it  of  more 
than  ordinarj'  interest. 

The  book  deals  not  so  much  with  the 
modem  Indian  as  with  the  powerful  tribes 
of  the  past, — the  tribes  that  were  very 
much  in  the  way  of  f)eace  and  progress 
at  the  time  when  the  French  and  English 
were  competing  with  one  another  for  the 
possession  of  the  territory  northwest  of 
the  Ohio  River.  In  all  United  States  his- 
tories the  Indians  play  a  large  part,  but 
this  is  a  histor\'  of  the  deeds  of  famous 
Indians  during  the  stormy  period  which 
began  nearly  two  hundred  years  ago  and 
which  lasted  for  at  least  a  century.  It 
includes  an  index  glossarj'  of  Indiana 
Indian  names,  which  are  the  more  inter- 
esting to  us  because  they  have  been  per- 
manently impressed  upon  the  natural  fea- 
tures and  also  the  towns  and  cities  of  this 
country.  ("True  Indian  Stories."  By 
Jacob  Piatt  Dunn.  Illustrated.  320  pages. 
Price  $1.00  postpaid.  Published  by  Sen- 
tinel Printing  Company,  Indianapolis,  In- 
diana.) 

FOR  anyone  contemplating  a  visit  to 
The  Netherlands, — especially  one  in- 
terested in  the  pictures  of  the  famous 
Dutch  School, — an  excellent  volume  of 
reference  is  "The  Standard  Galleries  of 
Holland,"  by  Esther  Singleton,  a  writer 
who  has  given  us  a  number  of  admirable 
books  of  this  t\'pe.  This  little  volume, 
which  can  easily  be  slipped  into  the  pocket, 
includes  the  cream  of  the  pictures  in  The 
Hague  Gallery,  The  Rijks  Museum,  The 
Stedelijk  Museum,  The  Town  Hall  of 
Haarlem,  and  The  Boijmans  Museum  at 
Rotterdam.  Each  picture  is  described  in 
a  paragraph  which  is  a  triumph  of  brevity, 
considering  the  amount  of  information 
given    the   reader   within    a   very   limited 


space.  The  leading  characteristics  of  the 
artist  are  set  forth,  the  notable  features 
of  the  picture,  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  was  painted  or  some  anecdote 
concerning  it  which  serves  to  fix  it  in  the 
memory,  and  in  many  cases  a  brief  refer- 
ence to  other  noted  paintings  by  the  same 
artist,  which  will  help  the  traveler  to  cor- 
relate and  identify  the  works  of  the  sev- 
eral masters.  ("The  Standard  Galleries  of 
Holland."  By  Esther  Singleton.  Illus- 
trated. 284  pages.  Price  $1.00  net.  Pub- 
lished by  A.  C.  McClurg  and  Company, 
Chicago. ) 

RALPH  Waldo  Trine  has  added  another 
small  volume  to  the  wholesome  and 
inspiring  series  entitled  "The  Life  Books." 
This  new  "Life  Book"  is  called 
"On  the  Open  Road,"  and  it  begins 
with  the  articles  of  a  sweet,  wholesome 
and  liberal  creed  of  living  that,  as  its  sub- 
title states,  is  "to  be  observed  today,  to  be 
changed  tomorrow,  or  banished,  according 
to  tomorrow's  light."  The  different  arti- 
cles of  this  creed  serve  in  the  place  of 
chapter  headings,  as  each  one  of  the  short 
chapters  is  in  the  nature  of  a  dissertation 
upon  the  principal  thought  that  begins  it. 
To  people  who  are  jogging  along  very 
comfortably  and  congratulating  themselves 
that  they  are  neither  better  nor  worse  than 
the  average,  this  book  might  be  a  good 
deal  of  an  eye-opener.  To  others  who  are 
doing  their  level  best  to  control  their  own 
natures  and  to  come  into  the  right  rela- 
tion with  humanity  at  large,  it  will  unques- 
tionably be  both  an  inspiration  and  a  re- 
minder. In  any  case,  a  few  hours  spent  in 
a  careful  study  of  what  it  contains  need 
not  be  reckoned  as  lost  time.  ("On  the 
Open  Road,"  By  Ralph  Waldo  Trine.  62 
pages.  Price  50  cents,  net.  Published  by 
The  Thomas  Y.  Crowell  Company,  New 
York.) 

FOUR  small  handbooks  for  the  collec- 
tor or  amateur  bear  the  collective 
title  of  "Little  Books  on  Art."  They  deal 
respectively  with  enamels,  miniatures, — 
both    ancient    and   modern, — jewelry  and 

127 


ALS  IK  KAN:  NOTES:  REVIEWS 


book-plates,  and  give  in  condensed  fonn 
the  history  of  each  of  tliese  arts,  the  work 
of  some  of  the  most  noted  artists  and 
craftsmen,  and  many  illustrations  and 
descriptions  of  celebrated  examples.  A 
good  deal  of  technical  detail  is  also  in- 
cluded, so  that  the  books  are  admirable 
for  the  purpose  of  instruction  as  well  as 
of  general  information  concerning  the  arts 
of  which  they  treat.  They  are  small  and 
very  convenient  in  size,  and  are  attractively 
bound  in  dark  blue  and  gold  cloth.  ("Lit- 
tle Books  on  Art:"  "Enamels,"  by  Mrs. 
Nelson  Dawson ;  "Miniatures  Ancient  and 
Modem,"  by  Cyril  Davenport;  "Jewel- 
len,-."  by  Cyril  Davenport ;  "Book  Plates," 
by  Edward  Almack,  F.S.A.  Illustrated. 
Frontispieces  in  color.  Each  volume  with 
bibliography  and  index.  About  i8o  pages 
each.  Price  per  volume  $i.oo  net.  Pub- 
lished by  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Company, 
Chicago.) 

PEOPLE  who  are  interested  in  Social- 
ism and  wish  to  be  informed  as  to  the 
main  outlines  of  the  past  history-  and  pres- 
ent activities  of  the  movement  will  prob- 
ably be  interested  in  a  little  book  entitled 
"The  Primer  of  Socialism,"  especially  as 
it  is  written  by  Thomas  Kirkup,  whose 
former  works  on  Socialism  give  him  the 
right  to  be  considered  one  of  the  best 
authorities  on  the  subject.  This  new  book 
is  what  its  name  implies, —  a  brief  clear 
statement  of  the  leading  facts  concerning 
Socialism.  It  is  the  sort  of  book  that  a 
busy  man  might  slip  into  his  pocket  to 
read  on  the  w-ay  downtown,  because  it 
would  give  him  in  condensed  form  enough 
facts  to  make  him  understand  what  the 
movement  means  and  what  the  pros- 
pects are  as  to  its  ultimately  affecting 
the  social  and  political  status  of  the 
world.  ("The  Primer  of  Socialism."  By 
Thomas    Kirkup.      90    pages.     Price  40 


cents.  Published  by  Adam  and  Charles 
Black,  London.  Imported  by  The  Macmil- 
lan  Company,  New  York.) 

Anew  volume  has  been  added  to  the 
series  entitled  "Drawings  of  the  Great 
Masters."  This  contains  the  drawings  and 
rough  chalk  studies  made  by  Alfred  Ste- 
vens, a  number  of  which  are  beautifully  re- 
produced. The  introduction  is  by  Hugh 
Stannus  and  is  as  condensed  and  compre- 
hensive as  are  the  introductions  to  all 
tliese  books.  To  the  student  of  drawing 
this  series  offers  much  valuable  material, 
and  to  the  layman  they  are  very  interest- 
ing, as  showing  so  clearly  the  methods  of 
working  employed  by  the  several  masters. 
("Drawings  of  Alfred  Stevens."  With 
introduction  bv  Hugh  Stannus.  48  plates, 
Price  $2.50,  net.  Published  by  George 
Newnes,  Ltd.,  London.  Imported  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  New  York.) 

ANOTHER  book  has  been  added  to  the 
series  of  useful  little  volumes  known 
as  "Collectors  Handbooks."  This  is 
"Delftware,"  by  N.  Hudson  Moore,  who 
is  a  recognized  authority  upon  this  and 
kindred  subjects.  Both  Dutch  and  Eng- 
lish Delftware  are  taken  up  from  the  his- 
torical side  as  well  as  the  technical,  so  that 
the  book  is  interesting  to  the  general 
reader,  as  well  as  valuable  to  the  general 
collector  as  a  book  of  reference.  It  is 
profusely  illustrated  with  examples  of 
characteristic  pieces,  and  nearly  half  the 
book  is  devoted  to  an  extensive  list  of 
Delft  potters,  with  the  individual  mark  of 
each  potter  or  of  the  factory  with  which 
he  is  connected,  and,  in  most  cases,  brief 
explanator>'  paragraphs  which  sen-e  fur- 
ther to  identify  both  the  potter  and  his 
work.  (Delftware.  Dutch  and  Ensrlish." 
By  N.  Hudson  Moore.  Illustrated.  78 
pages.  Price  $1.00,  net.  Published  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company,  New 
York.) 


128 


>iv    piigr   :i. 


RICHARD     WATSON     GILDER,     FROM     A 
PORTRAIT    BV    WILHEI.M     FUNK. 


f       ! 


THE  CRAFTSMAN 

GUSTAV  STICKLEY.  EDITOR  AND  PUBLISHER 
VOLUME  XVI  MAY.  1909  NUMBER 


ZULOAGA    AND   THE    NATIONAL    NOTE   IN 
SPANISH  ART:  BY  CHRISTIAN  BRINTON 

ESPITE  the  fact  that  their  art,  and  even  their  very 
names,  were  practically  unknown  to  the  American 
public  until  recently,  there  should  be  little  diflSculty 
in  accounting  for  the  vogue  in  this  country  of  the  two 
Spanish  painters,  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida  and 
Ignacio  Zuloaga,  whose  pictures  have  lately  been 
exhibited  with  such  unparalleled  success  in  New 
York  and  elsewhere  under  the  auspices  of  the  Hispanic  Society  of 
America.  It  is  clearly  something  more  potent  than  mere  aesthetic 
interest  which  has  attracted  to  the  work  of  these  men  so  many  ardent 
champions  both  here  and  abroad,  and  the  secret  of  this  enthusiasm 
unquestionably  lies  in  the  strong  racial  accent  which  is  manifest 
in  tneir  every  brush  stroke.  Although  radically  different  in  concep- 
tion and  execution,  the  art  of  each  is  equally  national  and  equally 
typical  of  that  rich  and  luminous  land,  tne  true  spirit  of  which  has 
so  long  been  falsified  by  her  foreign  trained  painters.  Yet  within 
the  last  decade  or  so  matters  have  been  changing  rapidly  in  this 
country  which  seemed  for  the  time  being  given  over  to  indifference 
or  somnolent  passivity.  In  every  department  of  human  activity 
there  has  been  a  magic  reawakening  of  the  antique  energy  of  the 
Spanish  race,  and  art  has  been  quick  to  respond  to  this  call  of  re- 
juvenation. With  the  rise  of  the  present  nationalist  movement  in 
contemporary  Peninsular  painting,  at  the  head  of  which  proudly 
stand  Sorolla  and  Zuloaga,  the  world  of  art  has  for  the  first  time  since 
the  death  of  Goya  been  permitted  to  gaze  upon  Spain  as  she  really 
is.  For  generations  everything  was  done  to  disguise  the  true  Spain,  to 
cheat  the  people  into  believing  she  was  something  entirely  different, 
and  the  greatest  of  these  offenders  was  none  other  than  the  gifted 
and  facile  Mariano  Fortuny,  whose  glittering  and  meretricious  bric- 
k-brac  was  actually  French  in  its  essence  and  origin.  Thanks  to 
Fortuny  and  his  followers,  Spanish  art  for  a  full  quarter  of  a  century 
was  condemned  to  wear  a  falsely  seductive  mask  instead  of  being 
permitted  to  reveal  her  own  severe  or  smiling  countenance.  Things 
could  not,  however,  go  on  thus  forever  and  fortunately  this  shallow 

131 


THE  NATIONAL  NOTE  IN  RECENT  SPANISH  ART 

and  superficial  veneer  has  at  last  been  completely  shattered  by  the 
splendid  solar  radiance  of  SoroUa  and  the  forceful  native  interpreta- 
tions of  Zuloaga.  Almost  alone  have  these  two  men  fought  their 
fight  for  truth  of  observation  and  statement,  and,  in  spite  of  violent 
though  futile  opposition,  their  victory  is  today  everywhere  acknowl- 
edged. 

That  which  first  impresses  the  casual  spectator  of  the  art  of  these 
two  men  is  the  salient  contrast  in  their  respective  points  of  \^ew. 
Yet  this  seemingly  fundamental  diversity  of  aim  and  achievement  need 
not,  after  all.  prove  disconcerting  to  those  who  look  beneath  the  bare  fact 
that  they  are  both  Spaniards.  It  is  to  the  lasting  glory  of  these  partic- 
ular artists  that  they  are  not  only  national  but  local  in  their  inspiration. 
Each  has  not  only  painted  almost  exclusively  in  his  own  country,  but  in 
that  specific  pro\dnce  where  he  was  born  and  of  which  he  can  boast  first- 
hand Knowledge.  In  the  work  of  Sorolla  you  get  a  fulfilling  sense  of  life 
along  that  gleaming  Valenciau  coast  where  he  spends  most  of  the 
year  depicting  liis  happy  children,  his  great,  sun-tanned  boatmen 
and  massive,  tawny  oxen.  AH  is  joyous  and  tonic  in  these  sparkling 
and  prismatic  canvases.  It  is  pictorial  optimism  of  the  most  in- 
■\ngorating  type.  The  art  of  Zuloaga,  on  the  contrary,  which  has  its 
home  in  that  grim  and  rugged  country  on  the  slopes  of  the  Pyrenees, 
is  a  somber,  self-contained  expression,  having  its  roots  deep  in  the 
past.  Broadly  speaking,  it  is  to  Nature  and  natural  phenomena 
in  all  their  instantaneous  charm  of  form,  color  and  movement  which 
Sorolla  has  dedicated  liis  incomparably  prompt  observation  and 
fluent  technique.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  upon  humanity  alone 
which  the  younger  artist  concentrates  his  not  less  remarkable  powers 
of  effective  composition  and  deliberate  characterization. 

IGNACIO  ZULOAGA,  who  was  born  at  Eibar  in  the  province  of 
Guipuzcoa  on  July  twenty-sixth,  eighteen  hundred  and  seventy, 
is  clearly  the  leader  of  the  national  movement  in  the  art  of  northern 
Spain,  just  as  Sorolla  is  of  that  in  the  south.  Zuloaga  is  the  true  son 
of  that  robust  and  ancient  race  who  were  only  reduced  to  submission 
by  Alfonso  XII  after  the  hardest  sort  of  a  struggle,  and  who  still 
regard  themselves  as  distinctly  less  Spanish  than  Basque.  They 
had  really  espoused  the  Carlist  cause  only  because  they  thus  hoped 
to  remain  independent  so  much  longer,  and  today  these  men  of  the 
mountains  are  as  resolute  and  untamed  in  spirit  as  ever.  Not  only 
is  Zuloaga  a  Celtiberian  through  and  through,  but  he  furthermore 
belongs  to  a  veritable  dynasty,  it  may  be  termed,  of  industrial  crafts- 
manship. His  father,  grandfather  and  great-grandfather  all  devoted 
themselves  assiduously  to  the  absorbing  and  intricate  field  of  orna- 

132 


THE  NATIONAL  NOTE  IN  RECENT  SPANISH  ART 

mental  metal  work,  having  been  famous  chasers,  armorers  and 
masters  of  incrustation  and  damascening.  They  were  essentially 
practical  people,  and,  although  there  had  been  painters  as  well  as 
potters  in  the  family,  the  youthful  Ignacio  met  with  no  encourage- 
ment when  he  expressed  a  desire  to  take  up  the  study  of  art.  After 
working  bravely  for  several  years  at  the  forge,  the  lad,  however, 
decided  to  forsake  his  family  if  necessary  and  embark  upon  his  chosen 
calling.  A  chance  visit  to  Madrid,  where  he  saw  for  the  first  time 
the  works  of  II  Greco,  Velazquez  and  Goya,  had  turned  the  tide,  and 
at  eighteen  the  embryo  painter  departed  for  Rome  to  seek  inspira- 
tion and  guidance.  Yet  it  was  not  in  Rome,  or  Paris,  or  London, 
each  of  ^Oiich  he  successively  ^^sited,  that  Zuloaga  was  to  encounter 
that  for  which  he  was  so  eagerly  searching.  After  several  empty 
and  humiliating  years  of  bitter  struggle  amid  uncongenial  surround- 
ings he  returned  to  Spain,  residing  first  in  Seville  and  later  moving 
northward  into  Segovia. 

IT  IS  unnecessary  to  recount  in  detail  the  picturesque  and  often 
precarious  experiences  of  Zuloaga  before  he  finally  settled  down 
to  his  life  task.  He  found  it  frankly  impossible  to  support  himself 
by  the  brush,  and  thus  became  by  turns  a  bookkeeper,  a  dealer  in 
antiques  and  a  professional  bull-fighter.  He  traveled  repeatedly 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Spain,  turning  his  hand  to 
whatever  he  could  do,  yet  always  instinctively  gathering  material  for 
his  art.  While  his  first  real  success  did  not  come  until  he  had  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-eight,  his  entire  lifetime  had  been  in  the  nature  of 
a  long  and  thorough  preparation  for  that  which  was  to  follow.  The 
vivid  and  colorful  scenes  of  the  corrida  attracted  him  first  of  all,  and 
his  canvases  depicting  bull-fights  and  bull-fighters  were  among  the 
earliest  to  win  recognition.  "Before  the  Bull-Fight"  and  "The 
Promenade  after  the  Bull-Fight"  are  the  greatest  of  this  series,  and 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  no  such  pictures  have  ever  been  dedicated  to  the 
sinister  yet  seductive  art  of  tauromachy.  From  such  themes  the 
painter  naturally  drifted  to  other  favorite  pastimes,  and  to  the  delin- 
eation of  those  local  types  which  have  given  his  art  its  singular  and 
powerful  appeal.  Save  for  an  occasional  trip  to  Paris,  he  seldom, 
during  those  active  and  fertile  years,  left  his  native  land,  and  hence 
his  work  retained  so  much  of  its  rich  racial  flavor. 

In  due  course  he  was  not  only  attracted  by  the  more  or  less  formal 
atmosphere  of  such  groups  as  that  of  his  uncle,  "Daniel  Zuloaga  and 
his  Daughters,"  but,  folloA\nng  in  the  footsteps  of  the  immortal 
Goya,  he  entered  that  dark  and  shabby  domain  or  dwarfs  and  witches, 
of  gypsies  and  smugglers,  which  constitute  such  a  large  proportion 

137 


THE   NATIONAL  NOTE   IN  RECENT  SPANISH  ART 

of  Peninsular  life.  Impelled  by  a  species  of  artistic  atavasm  he 
sought  at  all  times  and  everywhere  that  wliich  was  ancient  and  un- 
touched by  the  leveling  hand  of  today.  Old  localities,  old  costumes 
and  old  customs  exercised  an  imperious  fascination  over  this  young 
man,  and  after  he  was  able  to  boast  a  studio  of  his  own  he  went  to 
live  in  Segovia,  that  wondrous  old-world  town  which  has  of  late 
years  furmshed  him  with  so  many  characteristic  types  and  scenes, 
buring  the  summer  and  autumn  he  cannot,  like  SoroUa,  be  found 
beside  the  glistening  Mediterranean  beach,  but  among  the  mountains 
or  on  the  great  sandy  plateau  of  central  and  northern  Spain.  From 
Segovia  he  constantly  makes  excursions  to  such  neighboring  towns 
as  Sepulveda  or  Turegano,  of  which  he  leaves  his  own  matchless 
records.  Another  of  his  favored  haunts  is  the  wine-growing  district 
of  La  Rioja  where  he  paints  the  dusky  vintagers  as  they  return  from 
the  vineyard  after  the  day's  work,  or  the  crumbling  and  time-worn 
houses  of  Haro,  before  the  arched  doorways  of  which  pass  and  repass 
flaunting  and  ardent  gitanas.    , 

THE  art  of  Zuloaga  is  rigidly  consistent  in  its  choice  of  subjects 
and  its  treatment  of  each  and  every  theme.  He  seems  to  have 
had  before  him  from  the  very  outset  a  definite  conception  of 
his  mission  and  he  has  seldom  or  never  forsaken  his  chosen  field. 
Although  so  young  a  man,  and  one  of  the  chief  glories  of  that  New 
Spain  of  which  we  are  beginning  to  hear  so  much,  both  he  and  his 
work  remain  traditional  in  spirit.  He  is  not  one  who  scorns,  but 
rather  one  who  cherishes  those  conventions  which  have  come  down 
unimpaired  from  former  days,  and  it  is  this  which  above  all  gives 
his  canvases  their  strong  national  stamp.  Velazquez  and  Goya  seem 
to  live  again  in  the  painter  of  these  solemn  and  impressive  pictures 
which  mr.  Archer  M.  Huntington  has  vdth  such  zealous  enthusiasm 
brought  to  our  shores.  They  reflect  the  very  soul  of  Spain,  both 
social  and  aesthetic,  and  have  little  in  common  with  the  artistic  aims 
of  other  countries.  About  Ignacio  Zuloaga  are  profusely  scattered 
the  brilliant  tints  of  the  latter-day  palette.  SoroUa  on  one  side  in- 
dulges in  the  most  dazzling  of  chromatic  effects,  and  on  the  other 
Anglada  casts  over  his  figures  the  feverish  and  refined  seductions 
of  the  later  Parisians,  yet  this  self-sufficient  Basque  nevertheless 
remains  unmoved.  They  cannot  lure  liim  from  his  dark  and  fatalistic 
kino-dom  of  matadors  and  manolas,  of  ascetic  hermits  and  hideous 
sorceresses,  of  pilgrims,  gypsies  and  scarred  picadors,  all  of  whom 
he  paints  with  a  richness  of  tone,  an  antique  energy  of  purpose  and  a 
singleness  of  vision  which  no  artist  of  the  day  can  duplicate.  While 
you  may  not  relish  the  bitter  pictorial  pessimism  of  certain  of  these 

138 


FOR  THE   GUEST  ROOM   IN   A  SIMPLE   HOME 

studies  you  can  but  agree  that  in  his  own  province  Zuloaga  stands 
unapproached  and  possibly  unapproachable. 

Although  so  witlely  esteemed  abroad  it  should  not  be  a  matter 
for  surprise  that  the  art  of  Zuloaga  is  in  certain  sections  of  his  native 
land  decidedly  unpopular.  He  has  more  than  once  depicted  phases 
of  Spanish  life  wliich  his  countrymen  would  rather  not  see  thrust 
before  the  public.  His  work  is  now  and  then  too  frank  for  those  who 
still  worsliip  the  sparkling  falsity  of  Fortuny  and  his  school,  yet  when 
it  does  come  his  triumph  will  be  all  the  more  complete  for  such  delay. 
In  the  north,  however,  and  throughout  more  progressive  Catalonia 
he  is  greatly  esteemed.  Barcelona  was  the  first  city  to  honor  him, 
and  to  Bilbao  he  regularly  sends  his  canvases,  where  they  are  placed 
on  exliibition  with  tne  works  of  a  number  of  sturdy  young  Basques 
whose  names  are  still  unknown  to  the  public  at  large.  The  note  of 
race  is  strong  in  the  work  of  all  these  men,  the  most  promising  of 
whom  is  Manuel  Losada.  They  are  clearly  doing  gallant  service 
for  the  growing  cause  of  nationalism  in  art. 

FOR  THE  GUEST  ROOM  IN  A  SIMPLE  HOUSE 

LET  the  guest  sojourning  here  know  that  in  this  home  our  life 
is  simple.  What  we  cannot  afford  we  do  not  offer,  but  what 
good  cheer  we  can  give,  we  give  gladly.  We  make  no  strife 
for  appearance's  sake.     We  will  not  swerve  from  our  path  for  you. 

Ejiow  also,  friend,  that  we  live  a  life  of  labor, — that  we  may  not 
neglect  it.  Therefore,  if,  at  times,  we  separate  ourselves  from  you, 
do  you  occupy  yourself  according  to  your  heart's  desire,  being  sure 
that  no  slight  to  your  presence  is  intended. 

For,  wliile  you  are  with  us,  we  would  have  you  enjoy  the  blessings 
of  a  home,  health,  love  and  freedom,  and  we  pray  that  you  may  find 
the  final   blessing  of  life, — peace. 

We  will  not  defer  to  you  in  opinion,  or  ask  you  to  defer  to  us. 
What  you  think  you  shall  say,  if  you  wish,  without  giving  offense. 
What  we  think  we  also  say,  believing  that  the  crystal.  Truth,  has 
many  aspects,  and  that  Love  is  large  enough  to  encompass  them  all. 

In  this  house  you  may  meet  those  not  of  your  own  sort.  They 
may  differ  from  you  in  nationality,  birth,  position,  possessions, 
education  or  affinity.  But  we  are  maintaining  here  a  small  part 
of  the  world's  ^reat  future  democracy.  We  ask  of  you,  therefore, 
courtesy  and  tolerance  for  all  alike. 

And,  on  these  stern  terms,  though  you  be  young  or  old,  proud  or 
plain,  rich  or  poor,  resting  here  you  are  a  partaker  of  our  love,  and 
we  give  you  glad  welcome.  Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow. 

139 


THROUGH  THE  LATIN  QUARTER  WITH 
PAN,  THE  GOATHERD  OF  THE  PYRENEES: 
BY  GRACE  HAZARD  CONKLING 

IT  WAS  very  early  on  an  adorable  morning  in  April 
when  the  ripple  of  a  mid  little  tune  through  my  open 
window  made  me  hold  my  breath.  What  tiny  flutes 
were  these — so  sweet,  so  shrill  ?  Had  Pan  or  one  of 
his  fauns  escaped  from  the  Luxembourg  ?  I  hurried 
to  look. 

"It  is  only  a  marchand  des  chevres — as  Madame 
will  see,"  said  the  old  concierge  at  the  door. 

Only  a  goatherd!  But  he  wore  a  blue  blouse  and  a  round  red 
cap;  his  loose  corduroys  were  tucked  into  sabots;  he  carried  a  crooked 
staff.  INIoreover,  the  goats  he  drove  before  him  up  the  avenue  ap- 
peared to  be  quite  accustomed  to  the  minor  melodies — brief  and  way- 
ward as  the  bird  music  they  reminded  me  of — that  floated  from 
some  small  instrument  he  was  playing.  I  half  feared  he  might  escape, 
but  he  saw  me  crossing  the  broad  white  street  and  halted  with  liis 
goats  and  his  dog. 

"Madame  desired  some  goat's  milk — without  doubt . J*  Bien.  She 
could  observe  for  herself;  it  would  be  of  a  freshness ! "  When  he 
found  that  "Madame,"  on  the  contrary,  desired  only  to  know  how 
and  on  what  he  produced  his  fantastic  music,  he  looked  mildly  as- 
tonished. But  the  secret  dangled  at  the  end  of  a  silken  cord  he  wore 
about  his  neck.  From  under  a  fold  of  his  blouse  he  pulled  out  the 
miniature  Pan's  pipes  cut  from  some  pale  yellow  wood. 

"I  almost  beUeve  you  are  Pan!"  I  exclaimed,  evoking  a  gesture 
of  deprecation  and  the  modest  disclaimer — 

"  I  am  not  that  Monsieur  Madame  appears  to  believe  me.     I  am 
Martin  d'Arudy  from  Beam  at  the  service  of  Madame." 
"From  the  Pyrenees .'"     I  asked  incredulously. 
"Even  as  Madame  says" — he  repHed,  replacing  the  red  beret  upon 
his  curly  head  after  an  elaborate  bow. 

"Possibly  Madame  knows  my  mountains  down  there?"  he  added 
tentatively.  But  I  was  absorbed  in  an  examination  of  the  tapering 
affair  of  polished  wood  that  hung  from  the  twisted  cord.  I  half 
expected  the  negative  answer  I  received  when  I  asked  Pan  if  he 
would  part  with  his  pipes. 

No;  the  instrument  was  one  of  which  he  was  fond.  He  had  cut 
it  himself  from  the  stubborn  boxwood  during  the  long  winter  even- 
ings. It  was  such  a  one  as  his  father  had  played  and  had  taught 
him  to  play.  Yes,  there  were  many  of  these  instruments  in  use 
la-bas — down  there  in  the  mountains.     But  this  one  he  had  made 

140 


THROUGH  THE  LATIN  QUARTER  WITH  PAN 

had,  as  he  fancied,  a  pecuUar  virtue  in  its  quaUty  of  tone.  It  had 
remained  for  him,  out  of  all  the  number  of  chevriers  he  knew,  to  un- 
dertake the  long  journey  to  Paris.  He  had  had  to  set  out  early  in 
the  year  to  drive  his  goats  across  France,  in  order  to  reach  Paris 
before  April;  to  which  he  alluded  as  "that  prettiest  chapter  of  the 
spring." 

The  tunes  he  played .'  They  were  improvisations  that  came  to 
him  as  he  walked.  If  Madame  hked  them,  so  much  the  better;  but 
they  were  of  no  interest.  As  Madame  seemed  really  to  care  for  the 
instrument  he  played,  he  would  say  that  he  had  another  with  which 
it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  supply  Madame;  he  merely  ventured  to 
believe  that  she  might  perhaps  find  it  difficult  to  play,  it  being  a 
matter  that  required  long  practice. 

"Madame"  privately  concurred  with  him  in  this  beHef  as  he 
stood  there  in  the  sun  on  the  Paris  street,  piping  those  mountain 
"improvisations"  of  his.  Over  certain  difficulties  in  technique  he 
became  almost  eloquent.  To  trill — •par  exemple — that  was  some- 
thing of  the  most  difficult!  But  with  patience,  one  arrives.  *  *  * 
Bien;  he  would  return  on  the  next  day  to  bring  the  dupUcate  he 
fortunately  possessed  of  this  trifle  Madame  was  kind  enough  to 
admire,  and  he  would  pipe  beneath  the  windows  of  Madame  that  she 
might  know  he  was  waiting.  *****  Mais  non;  it  was  he 
who    thanked    Madame ! 

All  day  there  was  running  through  my  head: 

"The  ganger  walked  with  wilUng  foot. 
And  aye  the  ganger  played  the  flute: 
And  what  should  Master  Ganger  play 
But  'Over  the  hills  and  far  away.'  " 

Surely  that,  too,  was  the  theme  of  Martin's  improvisations. 
"Je  vais  siffler  sous  les  fenetres  de  Madame — "he  had  said ;  and  so  he  did, 
while  I  tried  to  transfer  to  a  scrap  of  music  paper  some  hint  of  his 
theme.  It  was  impossible  to  capture  more  than  a  suggestion.  His 
plaj-ing,  I  found,  was  the  perpetual  modification  of  the  musical  idea 
of  the  moment.  It  would  have  been  necessary  to  take  a  notation 
for  every  one  of  fifty  variations  upon  it.  In  this  lay  his  art ;  here  was 
imagination;  but  here  also  he  defied  me.  I  gave  up  the  attempt  and 
went  out  to  talk  with  him. 

The  Pan's  pipes  he  had  brought,  although  of  the  same  old  Greek 
shape,  was  of  inferior  workmanship,  and,  I  imagined,  without  the 
silvery  tone  quality  of  the  one  I  so  coveted.  There  followed  an 
argument.  I  had  an  almost  guilty  feeling  in  persisting  in  my  desire 
for  the  instrument  hung  about  the  neck  of  the  reluctant  goatherd. 

143 


THROUGH  THE   LATIN   QUARTER  WITH   PAN 

In  vain  he  assured  Madame  that  she  would  find  that  the  new  one  he 
had  brought  could  be  played  "with  a  genuine  effect."  In  vain  he 
exploited  its  possibilities.  I  had  fallen  the  more  in  love  with  the 
pipes  of  yellow  boxwood  on  discovering,  pricked  into  the  wood  with 
an  attempt  at  elaborate  decoration,  his  name  "  Martin  d'Arudy," 
with  the  addition  of  "  de  Paris  en  France."  There  should  be  no  doubt 
where  Paris  was!  And  the  legend  in  his  own  patois — "Vive  les 
chevriers  de  France .'"  Suddenly  I  offered  double  the  amount  he  was 
asking  for  the  new  instrument,  provided  he  would  let  me  have  the 
old  one  he  had  played. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  resigned  look,  the  sadness,  with  which 
poor  Martin  unfastened  the  red  and  blue  silk  cord  and  handed  me  my 
prize. 

"It  is  yours,"  he  said,  simply. 

My  conscience  smote  me.  My  only  inward  comfort  was  that  I 
knew  he  could  make  another  quite  as  good.  I  stayed  to  ask  him 
about  his  goats,  and  was  presented  to  one  after  another.  This  was 
Marinette;  this  one  he  called  Hirondelle,  that  one.  La  Laitiere,  here 
was  Bijou,  there,  the  Miller's  Daughter,  and  so  on  through  the  pretty 
series  of  eight  or  ten.  As  for  the  dog,  he  was  a  rascal  and  a  vagabond 
well  deserving  the  name  of  Filou,  at  the  sound  of  which  his  frayed 
tail  wagged  with  a  graceless  enthusiasm. 

La  Marquise,  JuUette  and  la  Desiree  were  introduced  as  "les 
chhvres  de  V apres-midi-"  "the  afternoon  goats;"  from  which  it  ap- 
peared that  he  led  the  trio,  toward  sundown,  through  another  street 
m  which  he  had  regular  customers.  I  carefully  noted  its  name. 
Who  would  not  seize  the  chance  to  go  to  hear  a  goatherd  from  the 
Pyrenees  improvise  on  his  pipes  at  sundown  ? 

A  day  or  so  later  I  found  him  wandering  happily  down  Notre 
Dame  des  Champs — the  Marquise,  Juliette  and  the  Desired  in  his 
wake.  He  stopped  playing  to  pull  off  his  cap  as  he  passed  an  old 
church.  I  fancied  that  Our  Lady  of  the  Fields  within  must  have 
heard  the  thin  penetrating  music  of  his  boxwood  flute  and  dehghted 
in  it.  Did  she  wait,  as  I  did,  for  another  of  those  dehcious  httle 
musical  flights,  joyous,  airy,  deUcate,  brief? 

His  greeting  to  me  followed  hard  upon  the  quaintest  of  tiny  tunes, 
ending  in  one  of  his  prolonged  trills. 

"Can  Madame  perhaps  improvise  a  little.'"  he  inquired,  a  bit 
maUciously,  I  thought.     "One  is  always  ready  to  receive  new  ideas." 

I  did  not  take  the  opportunity  offered  me  to  improvise,  but  asked 
him  instead  why  he  Hked  music  so  much. 

"It  is  strange  about  music — quoif"  he  answered  with  a  shrug. 
"It  does  something  to  one;  I  can  hardly  say  what.     It  renders  the 

144 


■  0.  l>y  ilic  Hisf^anic  Society  of  Amrrifa 


"Vn.l.A(;F.     liUI-L     FU.IITKRS     : 

ii;n.\cio  ziJLOAr.A.   painteh. 


THE  SOKOERESSES  OF   SAN    JIILLAN 
ICNACIO    ZUL0A(;A,    I'AINTER. 


Copyright,    igoo,   by  the  Hisfanu    J^u^^r^y  t-/    America. 


"famii.v  of   \  r.YPsv  hl'I.l  kighter" 

IGNACIO   ZULOAGA,    PAINTER. 


Cofyright.    img,   by  Ihc   llisfunir   So.u'ly    ,'t    Amrnctl. 


■M\'   i.(]USIN    lAMilLiA     ;    U',NACU> 
ZriUM.A.     I'AINTKH. 


THROUGH  THE   LATIN   QUARTER  WITH  PAN 

thoughts  more  gay.  For  my  part — I  adore  it."  And  I  felt  as  one 
would  feel  who  nad  asked  the  artist  why  he  loved  his  art. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  I  crossed  the  Place  de  Breteuil  on 
my  way  to  the  market.  The  sun  enameled  the  white  canvas  of  the 
clustering  booths,  tilted  Uke  mushrooms. 

"Where  is  Pan .'"  asked  my  sister  Suzanne,  to  whom  I  had  prom- 
ised music  suited  to  such  an  April  morning.  Perverse  Pan! — I 
thought,  and  was  glad  when  her  attention  was  diverted  by  an  aspar- 
agus vendor  who  remarked  carelessly  as  we  passed : 

"As  for  me,  I  am  merely  offering  this  very  delicate  asparagus 
to  those  who  can  appreciate  it." 

Rather  than  be  classed  among  the  unappreciative,  we  lingered 
to  hear  him  explain  that  it  was  because  the  soil  of  his  garden  was 
doux  that  his  asparagus  was  color  of  rose,  and  that  he  had  toiled  all 
day  Sunday  solely  that  we  might  on  Monday  enjoy  such  a  treat  as  this. 
And  Suzanne  bought  asparagus,  while  I  fell  a  victim  to  iris  "from  the 

fardens  of  Cannes"  and  primroses  "from  the  fields  about  Versailles." 
[ow  was  one  to  pass  a  table  heaped  with  cherries  that  were  tied  like 
so  many  scarlet  buttons  along  the  leaf-wrapped  stems  of  tiny  bunches 
of  lilies  of  the  valley — or  ignore  early  strawberries  from  Fontenay- 
aux-Roses,  when  they  were  arranged  in  miniature  earthenware  jars 
Uned  with  their  own  leaves  ?  Everything  was  irresistible ;  the  market 
seemed  enchanted.  I  was  engaged  in  the  purchase  of  bird  seed  for 
a  canary  I  did  not  possess,  only  because  the  vendor  reminded  me 
that  to  eat  seeds  was  a  canary's  sole  occupation,  when  the  birdlike 
quaver  and  call  of  the  Pan's  pipes  came  flitting  to  us  where  we  stood. 

At  the  edge  of  the  market  we  found  Martin  feeding  his  goats  fresh 
lettuce  leaves. 

"I  do  this  as  a  mere  matter  of  business,"  he  explained  to  us  and 
to  the  customers  whose  bowls  he  was  fiUing  with  goat's  milk. 

"Even  that  looks  good!"  whispered  Suzanne  to  me;  and  as  though 
he  had  heard,  Martin  turned  to  her  suddenly — 

"Will  Mademoiselle  perhaps  accept  a  httle — in  the  way  of  illus- 
tration .''"  Suzanne  did — to  my  admiration ;  and  nobody  saw  her 
furtively  sharing  the  contents  of  her  bowl  with  Filou — who  wore 
an  April  rose  stuck  in  his  collar. 

"Behold,  it  is  the  moment  of  the  peony!"  cried  a  flower  laden 
woman  passing  by — and  "Seize  the  time,  for  it  is  the  moment  of  the 
rose!"  contradicted  another  cheerfully. 

"Ah,  yes;  today  there  are  roses — tomorrow  there  may  be  none!" 
sighed  the  goatherd,  who  could  not  have  been  famihar  ^\ith  Omar. 

"Has  Madame  seen  the  peaches  from  the  South?"  He  led  us 
to  a  booth  where  his  "good  friend  Valereau"  in  a  white  blouse  and 

145 


THROUGH  THE   LATIN  QUARTER  WITH  PAN 

a  red  cap  like  his  own  offered  the  first  peaches,  ejaculating  in  the 
meantime : 

"If  there  were  only  Paris  to  depend  upon  for  good  tilings — but 
no!  These — par  exemple — are  from  the  far  South.  Vive  encore 
le  Midir 

"Vive  encore  le  Midi!"  repeated  Martin  after  him.  "I,  too,  love 
the  sun.  We  of  the  South  must  have  plenty  of  sunshine.  It  some- 
how means  that  things  move  along  better." 

"Yet  you  travel  northward  every  year?"  I  asked,  and  watched 
his  face  as  he  exclaimed: 

"Only  for  an  April!"  He  sent  a  flight  of  shrill  sweet  notes  out 
across  the  air — then  nodded  whimsically.  "But  I  do  like  travel. 
Travel  is  like  good  wine;  or  like  music.  It  stimulates — it  renders 
the  thoughts  more  gay.     For  me — I  adore  it." 

"But  the  goats;  do  they  Uke  it.'*"  inquired  the  ever  practical 
Suzanne. 

"These  animals.'  Why  not?  France — it  is  one  pasture.  May 
one  not  say  so?  True;  I  have  my  experiences  with  them  en  route. 
But — my  goats  must  see  Paris — hein?" 

And  the  happy  fellow  laughed  over  his  little  joke,  and  went  piping 
down  the  street — his  shaggy  dog  at  heel,  his  goats  trotting  before  him. 

From  that  day  began  our  journeys  through  the  Latin  Quarter 
in  the  wake  of  our  reincarnate  Pan.  Early  or  late,  we  must  have 
trudged  miles  within  the  sound  of  his  pipes.  There  was  an  old  house 
on  Montmartre  whither  we  often  followed,  just  to  see  him  urge  the 
goat  known  as  the  Miller's  Daughter  all  the  way  up  the  crazy  stair- 
case, that  she  might  be  milked  at  the  very  door  of  a  good  customer 
whose  babies  preferred  goat's  milk  to  any  other,  and  the  Miller's 
Daiighter  to  any  other  goat. 

What  immense  cheer  of  the  sun  and  of  the  open  sky  we  had, 
waiting  in  the  gardens  of  the  Luxembourg,  wliile  Martin  went  up  and 
down  the  adjacent  streets  in  search  of  luck!  How  the  gaiety  of  the 
Quarter  would  come  fluttering  across  to  us  from  his  ^ild  little  flutes 
as  from  some  pearl-throated  bird;  or  its  sadness  call  and  float  upon 
some  quavering  diminuendo  that  seemed  to  trail  soft  wings  across  the 
harps  of  the  sensitive  trees!  What  glimpses  of  old  interiors,  of 
walled  gardens,  what  pleasures  of  chance  encounter,  we  owed  the 
goatherd:  as  on  the  day  he  knocked  at  a  garden  door  on  the  old 
Vaugirard  and  a  httle  white-capped  maid  bearing  a  capacious  bowl 
opened  it  to  a  vision  of  espaUered  fruit  trees  in  bloom  against  the 
warm  wall,  or  the  day  when  he  presented  his  friend  Jean,  the  cobbler, 
who  begged  for  a  "merry  tune." 

Once  we  lost  him  for  a  few  days,  but  he  turned  up,  piping  at  a  fete 

146 


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THROUGH  THE   LATIN   QUARTER  WITH  PAN 

presided  over  by  the  Lion  of  Belfort.  He  had  been  for  a  jaunt  into 
the  country,  he  explained,  but  had  planned  his  return  for  the  fete. 

We  came  to  know  the  streets  he  frequented;  the  sunrise  streets, 
the  sundown  streets.  We  made  friends  vsith  the  goats,  all  of  whom 
knew  their  names.  We  made  friends  even  with  Filou,  who  had  a 
reputation  for  bad  temper.  It  was  on  the  broad  Boulevard  Gari- 
baldi that  we  made  some  httle  pictures  of  Martin  with  his  friends 
about  him.  "These — "  he  said,  when  we  gave  them  to  him  later — 
"these  I  shall  take  to  my  family  in  the  mountains  down  there." 
He  only  regretted  the  cap  and  blouse  and  sabots  he  was  wearing. 

One  morning  I  was  awakened  by  fairly  a  torrent  of  tunes  and 
trills  all  tumbling  in  at  my  open  window.  Again  Martin  was  pip- 
ing "beneath  the  mndows  of  Madame."  Again  he  swept  off  the 
round  cap  in  greeting  as  I  appeared. 

"Good   day  and  farewell!"  he  called. 

Suzanne  had  joined  me,  and  we  exclaimed  in  protest,  to  be  re- 
warded with  the  familiar  deprecating  gesture. 

"Do  you  not  remark  that  April  has  gone?  And  I  go  too — moi. 
It  is  time  for  the  mountains  again.  Once  more  I  come  to  play  be- 
neath the  windows  of  Madame — as  who  should  say,  I  thank  you — 
and  farewell." 

So  we  said  goodbye,  to  him,  to  Filou,  to  the  goats;  and  we  watched 
them  go.  Down  the  street,  tiny  flitting  airy  tunes  grew  faint — and 
fainter — and  fell  plaintively  silent. 

Then  we  reahzed  that' April  was  gone:  "that  prettiest  chapter 
of  the  spring." 

************ 

The  Pan's  pipes  of  yellow  boxwood  lies  here  before  me  as  I  write. 
I  have  never  learned  to  play  upon  it.  I  have  neither  the  imagination 
nor  the  breath.  "To  trill — par  exemple — "  would  always  remain 
beyond  me.  But  I  believe  I  know  of  what  that  little  instrument 
would  be  capable  in  the  hands  of  Pan. 

Has  any  traveler  lingering  in  the  south  of  France  for  the  sprint^ 
to  ripen  into  April,  seen  a  goatherd  driving  his  goats  northward 
toward  Paris.'  Has  anybody  overtaken  Martin  d'Arudy — from 
Beam  ? 

He  may  be  known  by  his  blue  blouse  and  round  red  cap;  by  the 
ragged  brown  dog  at  his  heels;  by  his  goats  that  come  when  they  hear 
their  names— Marinette,  the  Swallow,  the  Miller's  Daughter,  the 
Marquise,  JuUette,  the  Milk  Maid,  Jewel,  the  Desired. 

He  may  be  known  by  his  music;  for  he  blows  on  his  pipes  tunes 
that  the  shepherd  god  once  played  in  Arcadia. 

147 


TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT  OF  THE 
MEDL^VAL  BLACKSMITH:  BY  ERNEST  A. 
BATCHELDER 

"Art  was  once  the  common  possession  of  the  whole  people;  it  was  the  rule  in  the 
Middle  Ages  that  the  produce  of  handicraft  was  beautiful.  Doubtless  there  were  eye- 
sores in  the  palmy  days  of  Mediaeval  art,  but  these  were  caused  by  destruction  of 
wares,  not  as  now  by  the  making  of  them.' — William   Morris. 

ICTURE  the  aiuazement  of  a  blacksmith  of  the  Middle 
Ages  if  he  could  shp  through  the  long  laj)se  of  centuries 
and  pass,  in  his  cap  and  apron  of  leather,  into  the  gal- 
leries of  a  modern  art  museum.  Here  in  a  dust-proof 
case,  perchance  on  a  background  of  velvet,  he  finds 
the  hinges  that  he  made  for  the  village  church.  He 
remembers  well  the  day  when  the  carpenters  brought 
the  heavy,  nicely  hewn  planks  of  oak  to  his  shop  and  it  became  his 
part  to  bolt  the  planks  together  with  the  long  straps  of  his  iron  hinges, 
to  be  fashioned  in  a  "craftsmanlike  way,"  according  to  his  contract. 
Barefoot  children,  as  ever  happens,  gathered  at  lus  open  door  attracted 
by  the  roar  of  his  bellows,  the  loud  clank,  clank  of  iron  upon  iron 
and  the  flying  sparks,  so  dangerous  to  bare  legs,  that  illumined  the 
grimy  interior  of  his  shop.  Close  by  in  another  case  is  the  knocker 
that  his  brother  smith  across  the  way  wrought  for  the  door  of  the 
hall  in  the  market-place.  He  recalls  the  neighborly  visits,  the  friend- 
ly rivalry,  the  lively  discussions  and  blunt  criticisms  as  the  two  jobs 
took  form.  Here,  too,  are  many  other  pieces  of  famihar  workman- 
ship in  iron  and  wood,  carved  panels,  oaken  chests  and  cupboards, 
all  so  common  in  his  day  and  time.  But  for  what  purpose,  forsooth, 
are  these  things  gathered  here .'  Wliat  manner  of  people  are  these 
who  have  no  furtner  use  for  tilings  essentially  useful  than  to  display 
them  as  works  of  art .''  Nothing  was  said  about  art  in  his  day.  Of 
course,  he  gave  such  beauty  as  he  could  to  those  hinges;  it  was  impHed, 
though  not  specifically  called  for,  in  the  terms  of  his  contract, — for 
how  could  a  thing  be  "  craf tsmanlike  "  if  it  were  not  beautiful .'  And 
did  he  not  have  a  reputation  to  uphold  as  a  master  workman,  an 
honest  pride  in  the  tilings  that  came  from  his  shop .''  Indeed,  the 
world  has  come  to  a  strange  pass  when  so  much  ado  is  made  over  a 
man's  work,  when  a  decent  hinge  of  iron  is  exalted  to  such  distinction. 
And  so,  back  to  his  shroud  the  poor  fellow  goes,  sorely  puzzled  and 
bewildered  at  what  he  has  seen,  quite  as  unable  to  comprehend  our 
viewpoint  as  we  are  to  understand  the  motives  that  prompted  him 
in  his  daily  task  at  the  forge. 

Any  man  who  has  ever  tried  to  beat  an  obstinate  chunk  of  iron 
into  some  form  that  has  a  little  claim  to  Ijcauty  will  allow  a  generous 
measure  of  respect  to  the  Mediaeval  blacksmith.     More, — it  he  has 

148 


MEDIEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 


^/^^>C> 


a  real  sense  of  beauty 
within  him  he  wall  lay 
aside  his  tools  with 
dismay  and  go  back 
as  a  humble  disciple 
to  the  old  product,  for 
his  experience,  how- 
ever brief,  has  brought 
with  it  a  keener  appre- 
ciation; he  will  find  a 
source  of  joy  in  simple 
things  thatwere  passed 
unnoted  before,  be-  ^7'^^^-^^ 

cause  he  is  better  "^^^^^  vf®^^^'=- 
able  to  see  through  the  ~yy/^^^Mj^^!m(^wMm)./^y^J::^ 
eyes  of  the  old  work- 
man,  understand  the 
problems  that  he  was 
interested  in  solving, 
the  diflBculties  that 
had  to  be  overcome. 
And  therefrom  arises 
a  finer  discrimination. 
Is  it  not  so  in  all 
things?  The  painter 
sees  in  a  canvas  qualities  that  are  entirely  hidden  from  the  layman 
who  has  never  wielded  a  brush.  One  who  has  tried  to  carve  in 
wood  finds  a  new  beauty  disclosed  in  the  work  of  a  master  carver. 

IRON  would  seem  to  be  the  last  material  to  which  a  man  would 
turn  for  beauty's  sake  alone.  Its  associations  have  generally 
been  with  stern  necessity;  its  forms  have  almost  invariably  been 
those  that  utility  has  demanded  for  strength  and  resistance.  To 
other  materials  more  easily  worked,  or  of  greater  intrinsic  value  and 
inherent  beauty,  such  as  ivory,  gold,  silver,  enamel  or  wood,  the  crafts- 
man has  turned  for  forms  of  convenience  and  luxury.  But  iron,  the 
least  promising  material  of  all  in  its  crude  state,  has  generally  come 
to  the  hands  of  the  man  who  must  build  as  utility  points  the  way. 
IMore  credit  to  the  blacksmith,  that,  through  the  distinction  which 
comes  from  fine  craftsmanship  alone  he  should  rise  head  and  shoulders 
above  the  purely  useful  trades  and  place  his  work  beside  that  of  the 
goldsmiths  and  silversmiths  as  a  product  possessing  the  highest  order 
of  beauty. 

149 


FIGURE  ONE. 


MEDIEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 


FIGURE  TWO. 


Consider  for  a  moment 
the  form  in  which  the  iron 
was  delivered  at  the  forge  of 
the  iNIediseval  smithy.  The 
ore  was  smelted  by  simple 
processes  at  the  mines  back 
in  the  forests  or  on  the  moun- 
tain sides,  rudely  formed  into 
ingots  of  such  size  that  they 
might  be  easily  transported, 
and  brought  to  the  towns  to 
be  bartered  in  trade.  Today 
the  iron  may  be  purchased 
in  a  great  variety  of  forms, 
rolled  into  sheets  of  any  de- 
sired thickness  or  into  bars 
and  rods,  round,  square, 
octagonal,  of  such  lengths  or 
dimensions  as  the  worker 
may  specify.  But  the  early 
smith  started,  perforce,  with  the  rough  ingot,  beating  it  out  mth 
the  most  arduous  kind  of  manual  labor  into  forms  adapted  to  his 
purpose.  Nothing  could  be  more  unsuggestive  than  the  raw  material 
left  beside  his  forge.  To  win  from  it  a  straight  flat  bar  suitable 
for  a  hinge  was  in  itself  a  difficult  task.  Persistently  stubborn  and 
resistant,  it  could  be  overcome  only  during  the  brief  interval  after  it 
was  pulled  sputtering  hot  from  the  fire.  Then  back  to  the  fire  it 
must  go  again  to  bring  it  to  a  workable  condition.  There  was  no 
coaxing  or  tapping  wnth  light  touches;  each  blow  must  needs  be  well 
considered,  forceful  and  direct. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  trace  some  of  the  steps  by  which  this 
rough  ingot  yielded  itself  under  the  strong  arm  of  the  worker  from 
forms  of  mere  adequacy  to  a  subtle  beauty  of  line  and  form,  texture 
and  finish.  In  no  other  craft  can  one  trace  more  clearly  the  sig- 
nificance of  what  may  be  termed  tool-wrought  ornament,  a  beauty 
that  was  finally  achieved  upon  a  background  of  traditions  built  up 
through  generation  after  generation  of  tool-trained  men.  A  man 
grows  with  his  work;  and  here  was  work  in  which  the  opportunities 
for  growth  were  many. 

The  designer  of  today,  to  whom  tools  and  materials  are  deplorable 
incidents  which  sometimes  make  it  necessary  for  him  to  modify 
liis  fine  ideas,  says, — "Here  is  my  design;  now  it  is  for  the  blacksmith 
to  put  it  together  as  best  he  can.     That  is  his  job."     "t^'-- ' '--i — -^^ 


The  blacksmith 


150 


MEDIEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 


pronounces  the  design  impractical ;  the  designer 
devoutly  wishes  that  the  blacksmith  had  a 
little  artistic  sense.     And  so  between  the  two, 


'^C^K?^/ 


My^. 


n, 


as  might  be  expected,  they  generally  make  a  /? / v V/'^^^i'' /r^ -; 
mess    of   it,  or   produce    some    mechanically  RL-!::^' \^  j  1 7    ^^ 


drawing  board  and  T  square  than  of  the  forge. 


■J^:. 


exact   piece  of  work   more  suggestive  of  the  vp  i 

'-"..'.'"     -       -  than  of  the  forge.  ^^^^qi^^:^i 
The  distinctive    charm  of  the  early  work  VitVy^^  '  ^     ^'ij!^ 


FIGURE   FOUR. 


came  from  a  different  line  of  reasoning.  "  Here 

are  my  tools  and  materials,"  said  the  early  ^' 

smith.      "Experience   has  taught   me    how    to   use 

them  to  the  best  advantage.     Now  with  them  what 

sort   of   beauty    may   I    best  win  for  this   piece  of 

work  r"     On   this   basis   of   reasoning  grew  up  the 

hopelessly  beautiful  iron  work  of  the  Middle  Ages, 

a  tool-wrought  ornament  from  beginning  to  end,  its 

gradual  refinement  and  enrichment  evolved  through 

the  process   of  tool  economy.     By  tool   economy  is 

not  meant  economy  of  ideas  or  distaste  for   work. 

INIerely  this, — that  the  shop-trained  man  ^nll  naturally  seek  the  most 

direct  and  economical  means  to  an  end,  though  the  end  itself  may  be 

of  a  most  complex  nature.     His  thought  in  design  will  move  along 

a  path  through  which  his  experience  in   execution   has   previously 

cleared   a  way;  he  ^\'ill  unconsciously  recognize  the  Umitations  of 

his  tools  and  materials ;  but  he  will  also  be  anve  to  suggestions  which 

would  never  occur  to  the  paper-trained  designer. 

OUR  illustrations  show  clearly  the  development  of  tool-made 
ornament,  from  first  a  forge  and  anvil,  two  or  three  hammers 
and  chisels,  a  punch  and  similar  tools  of  the  simplest  con- 
trivance, and  later  more  complicated  tools  and  processes.  The  iron,  as 
we  have  seen,  must  be  shaped  while  it  is  hot;  and  while  in  this  state 
separate  pieces  may  be  welded  together.     As  work  typical  of  these 

limitations  the  early  hinge 

from  St.  Albans  is  a  good 

^f^^^    ^  \\\  )l/  ^  /^^^         '"       ^"^^^^     example  (Figure  One). 

^'iMpjn  ^y\    Constructive  questions 

,W/^^^^  >^^^^lll   demanded  that  the  hinge 

J[(/.>U;^i:.SiS?-^5^        ^C^ste-^/)f    should    spread    out    over 

the  surface  of  the  door,  to 

bind  the  planks  together 

and     secure     as    firm    a 

FIGURE  THREE,  clutcfa  as  possiblc  for  the 

151 


MEDIiEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 


service  it  had  to  perform. 
It  was  bolted  through  the 
door  to  other  plates  or 
straps  of  iron  on  the  inside. 
As  it  was  a  time  of  sud- 
den disturbances,  strength 
to  resist  the  attacks  of  an 
enemy  was  frequently  tak- 
en into  account;  the  church 
often  served  as  a  last  refuge 
in  time  of  trouble.  Now  it 
remained  with  the  black- 
smith whether  his  hinge 
should  be  merely  adequate, 
or  whether  he  should  take 
his  stand  with  the  other 
]  craftsmen  about  him  and  put  beauty  into 
'  his  work.  He  chose  the  latter  course  and 
gave  to  his  work  such  beauty  as  his  tools 
and  his  skill  permitted.  In  the  enlarged 
details  below  we  can  trace  the  tracks  tnat 
his  tools  left  behind;  it  is  just  the  sort  of 
work  one  would  expect  under  the  condi- 
tions stated.  The  rudely-formed  head  is  nicked  and  scored  with  the 
chisels  to  give  it  character;  the  welding  points  of  the  various  scrolls 
are  shghtly  enriched ;  the  surface  of  the  hinge  is  cut  with  a  simple 
zigzag  pattern.  Every  shape  and  form  has  the  appearance  of  being 
hot  forged.  Thus  we  have  a  result  that  possesses  that  organic, 
intimate,  personal  character  which  none  but  a  tool-trained  man  would 
achieve.     It  is  iron, — and  looks  Uke  iron. 

In  Figure  Two  are  other  typical  pieces  of  tool  ornament,  hterally 
split  off  with  the  cliisel.  The  first  has  been  given  a  semblance  of 
some  animate  form.  In  the  second  the  ends  of  the  crescent  straps 
of  the  hinge  are  split  into  three  pieces.  Two  of  them  are  curled  back- 
ward into  scrolls — and  the  middle  one  is  formed  into  a  quaint  Uttle 
terminating  head. 

During  a  period  of  about  two  centuries  simple  forged  ornament 
of  this  type  continued  to  be  made.  In  France  some  ingenious  smith 
de\-ised  a  method  of  working  that  brought  a  note  of  variety  to  the  flat 
treatment  generally  followed,  as  may  be  seen  in  Figure  Three.     The 


FICURB  FIVE. 


termmatmg 


swage 


ends  were  gained  by  beating  the  hot  metal  into 
blocks  or  dies.     It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  wanderings  of  some 
raftsman  familiar  vfith.  tliis  method  of  working  into  other  lands, 


c 


152 


MEDIAEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 

and  the  efi'orts  to  imitate  the  work  by  others  unf  aniihar  with  the  process. 
The  term  journeyman  worker  had  a  i-eal  meaning  in  tliose  days. 
Through  his  handiwork  a  man  estabhshed  a  reputation  and  he  was 
often  sent  for  from  distant  points,  followed  in  the  wake  of  conquest 
or  journeyed  on  peaceful  mission  bent,  from  one  town  to  another. 
Tliis  particular  type  of  work  offered  additional  possibilities  culminat- 
ing in  the  wonderful  hinges  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  beyond  which 
there  seemed  no  skill  to  venture.  Nothing  could  serve  as  a  better 
illustration  of  the  fact  that  beauty  entered  into  daily  work  than  that 
these  masterly  hino-es  w^ere  generallv  credited  to  the  devil  for  lack 
of  definite  knowledge  as  to  who  made  them.  It  was  a  time  when 
workmen  in  every  craft  were  capable  of  rising  to  the  finest  achieve- 
ments in  the  most  unassuming  way  whenever  the  opportunity  occurred. 
The  invention,  shrewdness  and  energy  now  spent  in  speeding  and 
cheapening  production  were  then  turned  to  giving  to  work  greater 
beauty  and  finer  craftsmanship. 

Into  the  worker's  kit  there  came  in  due  season  other  tools,  such  as 
the  drill  and  file;  and  here  again  we  may  follow  the  trail  left  by  these 
tools  through  innumerable  examples  of  openwork  ornament  leading 
to  forms  of  leafage  and  intricate  traceried  patterns.  Working  on  the 
cold  metal  was  more  generally  practiced,  too,  and  the  character  of 
the  enrichment  accordingly  underwent  a  change.  The  worker,  with 
increasing  skill  and  better  appliances,  turned  to  Nature  for  sugges- 
tions. In  Figure  Four  is  the  development  of  a  very  abstract  sort  of 
leafage ;  tool-made  Nature,  we  might  call  it,  just  the  thing  that  a  work- 
man with  drill  and  cold  chisel  would  shape  from  a  flat  piece  of  metal. 
The  influence  of  the  tool  is  notable  throughout.  W^e  may  feel  sure 
that  the  forms  of  leafage  in  the  early  work  were  first  suggested  by 
the  metal  as  it  took  shape  under  the  hammer.  An  abstract  leaf, 
as  in  Figure  Five,  would  inevitably  lead  to  other  forms  more  leaflike 
in  character,  gradually  developing  into  conventionalizations  from 
specific  plants.  But  even  in  the  most  delicately  turned  leaf  work 
we  can  see  how  the  designer's  thought  followed  closely  upon  liis  tools 
and  materials.  The  Nature  student  might  design  more  leaflike  forms, 
yet  lose  the  vital  quality  that  belongs  peculiarly  to  iron  and  which 
could  be  obtained  only  by  the  man  familiar  with  its  working.  In 
Figure  Six  and  in  the  row  of  German  door  pulls,  are  other  examples 
of  work  made  during  that  period  when  the  craftsmen  stood  at  the 
fascinating  borderland  between  technique  and  Nature,  when  it  is  so 
difficult  to  say,  "Tliis  started  from  the  tool;  this  from  Nature." 
The  hinge  ends  in  Figure  Six  have  no  historic  sequence  as  arranged, 
but  they  show  in  the  most  convincing  manner  the  close  relation  be- 
tween Nature  and  the  abstract. 

157 


MEDLEVAL  TOOL-WROUGHT  ORNAMENT 


THE  term  tool-wrought  ornament  does  not,  of  course,  imply  that 
the  tool  will  do  the  thinking;  it  is  merely  the  agent  of  execution. 
Work  is  of  the  mind,  not  of  the  hand  alone.  The  beauty  must 
be  within  the  man  if  it  is  to  appear  in  his  handiwork.  The  unin- 
ventive,  unimaginative  man  will  find  his  tools  a  burden  rather  than 
an  incentive.  In  Figure  Seven,  for  instance,  the  first  designer 
employed    tools    to    express    an    interesting   idea;   space    and    mass 

pull  together  to  give 
beauty  to  the  result. 
The  second  man  used 
the  same  tools,  but 
his  idea  was  not  in  it- 
self interesting, — his 
thought  did  not  go 
beyond  his  tools.  His 
inventive  faculty  went 
no  fui'ther  than  a  ser- 
ies of  holes  pierced 
at  regular  intervals, 
such  a  design  as  any 
schoolboy  might  de- 
cide upon  after  a  pre- 
liminary trying  out  of 
his  equipment. 

The  constructive 
forms  of  the  builders 
were  seized  upon  by  the  men  of  iron  as  appropiiate  for  ornament, 
just  as  they  were  by  other  workers  in  other  materials.  The  lock- 
smiths, working  on  the  cold  metal,  devised  geometric  traceries  of  the 
most  intricate  patterns,  as  in  Figure  Eight.  To  increase  the  richness 
of  effect  and  render  execution  less  difficult,  they  often  employed  two 
plates  of  metal,  as  indicated  in  the  lower  example,  one  a  plate  of 
heavy  metal  pierced  through  to  give,  on  a  reduced  scale,  the  effect  of 
the  deep  mullions  of  the  cathedral  windows,  with  a  thin  plate  back  of 
it  for  the  cusping  of  the  openings. 

To  follow  the  work  into  the  important  achievements  of  the  lock- 
smiths and  armorers  is  not  our  present  purpose.  The  circumstances 
which  furnished  the  opportunities  for  the  early  smiths  all  combined 
to  raise  the  product  to  a  point  where  it  stood,  technically  and  artis- 
tically, close  beside  the  work  of  the  goldsmiths  and  jewelers.  While 
the  design  and  execution  were  entrusted  to  the  shop-trained  man 
the  work  continued  along  a  line  of  real  growth,  but  when  painters 
and  sculptors,  here  as  in  the  other  crafts,  essayed  to  do  the  designing 

158 


Wm//yyy.^- 


FIGURE  SIX. 


MEDIiEVAL   TOOL-^VROUGHT   ORNAMENT 


and  it  became  the  function  of  the  work- 
man to  do  as  he  was  told  without 
question  why  or  wherefore,  the  prod- 
uct became  less  vital  and  intimate  in 
character.  Under  the  conditions  pre- 
vailing today,  an  almost  complete  iso- 
lation of  designer  and  workman,  it  is 
little  wonder  that  our  most  pretentious 
efforts  fail  to  excite  any  such  interest 
and  satisfaction  as  may  be  found  in 
the  simplest  strap  hinge  that  came 
from  a  Mediaeval  forge.  We  have 
long  since  ceased  to  distinguish  the 
difference  between  mechanical  and 
artistic  excellence.  A  shop-trained 
man  without  a  sense  of  beauty  and  a 
studio-trained  man  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  technique  do  not  make  a  very 


FIGURE  EIGHT. 


promising  team.    And  so  we 


find  that  the  keynote  in  the 
iron  work  as  in  the  other 
Mediaeval  crafts  is, — ade- 
quate service  is  not  enough. 
We  say  that  labor  is  too 
dear,  time  is  too  valuable, 
to  bring  the  designer  and 
workman  into  closer  touch 
in  the  shop  and  factory  of 
today.  But  has  labor  no 
other  compensation  than  the  pay  envelope  .'*  And  is  time  so  very 
valuable,  after  all,  when  spent  in  the  production  of  things  that  are 
thoughtless  in  design,  cheap  and  worthless  in  execution,  of  inutilities, 
novelties,  fads,  broken  or  consigned  to  the  scrap  heap  almost  as  soon 
as  they  are  made  .- 


FIGURE   SEVEN. 


159 


WILHELM    FUNK:    A    PAINTER     OF     PER- 
SONALITY: BY  GILES  EDGERTON 

]I1E  room  is  very  liigh  and  wide  and  restful.  Here  and 
there  are  splashes  of  pale  red  repeated  as  an  uncon- 
scious accent,  and  there  is  gold  in  mellow  old  em- 
broideries and  carving  that  was  done  centuries  ago 
hv  craftsmen  who  worked  somewhat  for  love.  Some 
Inilliant  plumaged  tropical  birds  perch  airily  on  man- 
tel and  shelf,  repeating  the  note  of  red  and  adding 
spots  of  soft  blue  and  a  gentle  half-tone  of  gray,  and  beside  the  birds 
are  old  silver  candlesticks  and  delicate  prints  of  English  and  French 
beauties.  The  furniture  is  there  for  beauty  as  well  as  comfort  and 
there  are  windows  high  up  in  the  roof  and  open,  so  that  the  fresh 
air  and  the  far  off  murmur  of  the  city  drop  together  down  to  the 
peace  and  beauty  of  the  space  below. 

New  York  harbors  this  room  in  a  crowded  cjuarter  of  a  business 
street.  It  is  just  a  little  way  beyond  a  wide  park  and  you  reach  it 
up  a  pleasant  green  stairway.  As  you  enter,  the  room  affects  you 
like  a  living  personality  and  you  know  it  could  belong  only  to  the 
nian  who  created  it.  It  is  a  definite  expression  of  his  temperament, 
of  what  he  demands  of  life  and  what  he  has  won  from  it.  Origin- 
ally, this  vast  studio  with  its  green  stairway,  its  high  picturesque 
lialcony  and  its  living  rooms  was  just  a  stupid,  tawdry  small  dwelling 
close  to  a  grimy  busy  street.  Today  it  is  a  study  in  personality,  with 
its  wide  spaces,  its  subdued  exotic  beauty,  its  paroquets,  its  dark 
gray  silver,  the  high  roof  for  freedom  of  thought  and  its  all-enveloping 
{)eace.  Such  beauty  is  not  attained  by  chance  or  to  meet  a  temporary 
wliim.     It  is  constructive  and  permanent. 

And  the  man  who  lives  in  the  room  has  made  it  the  purpose  of 
his  life  to  discover  and  express  personality  with  all  the  beauty 
which  great  gift  and  sympathy  and  patience  could  make  possible. 
'Jliose  of  us  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  see  and  study  the  portrait 
exhil^it  of  ^Ir.  Wilhelni  Funk  last  winter  at  the  Knoedler  Galleries 
will  recall  with  a  very  definite  thrill  the  splendor  of  color,  the  sure- 
ness  of  brush  and  the  extraordinary  variation  of  personality  displayed. 
'I'he  gallery  seemed  full  of  living  people  who  for  the  time  had  dropjied 
the  conventional  mask  of  age  or  youth,  who  were  showing  their  real 
selves,  who  were  exhibiting  traits  perhaps  little  known  in  the  draw- 
ino'  room,  the  office  or  the  nursery  where  they  lived,  traits  of  gentle- 
ness, of  radiance,  of  tenderness,  of  enthusiasm,  of  courage,  of  cap- 
tivating naivete,  of  sincerity,  all  captured  in  turn  by  the  artist,  this 
hunter  of  personality,  this  rare  believer  in  individual  l)eauty  which 
he  so  well  knows  how  to  harvest  in  that  wizard  room  in  the  fairy- 
land of  his  studio. 

160 


A  PAINTER  OF  PERSONALITY 

MR.  FUNK'S  exhibit  last  winter  has  been  called  the  most 
important  one-man  show  of  the  year,  an  exhibit  in  which 
there  was  a  most  reverent  handling  of  his  medium,  the  most 
inspired  presentation  of  varying  temperament  and  the  most  fearless 
and  audacious  mastery  of  color.  Personally,  I  question  if  Sargent 
sees  through  his  palette  to  results  more  clearly,  niore  courageously, 
if  his  medium  has  become  to  him  a  more  unconscious  expression, 
through  which  he  speaks  more  frankly,  freely  and  swiftly  what  he 
finds  about  human  beings  in  this  present  state  of  ciiilization.  Brush 
and  color  hold  no  more  difficulty  to  Mr.  Funk  than  do  mere  words 
to  the  average  man  or  the  piano  to  Paderewski,  or  the  execution  of 
vocal  tones  to  Mme.  Gadski;  for  the  final  perfection  of  any  art  means 
the  mastery  of  technique  until  its  use  is  unconscious.  But  there 
is  a  great  dift'erence  between  the  various  masters  of  technique.  There 
is  the  man  who  works  with  imagination,  with  the  poet's  thrill  in  his 
inspiration,  and  the  other  man  wio  is  purely  a  materialist,  or  at  least, 
who  so  thinks  himself  and  wishes  to  be  so  considered. 

Sargent  smiled  when  asked  if  he  ever  made  an  eft'ort  to  study  the 
personality,  the  hidden  quahty,  of  his  sitters;  if  he  strove  to  tear 
down  the  conventional  barriers  which  civilized  life  builds  up  to  pro- 
tect sensitive  humanity.  "There  are  no  barriers,"  he  said,  "to  the 
man  who  sees.  The  story  is  all  written  in  the  lines  and  spaces  of 
each  face.     I  paint  only  what  I  see.     It  is  all  there." 

And  yet  one  wonders!  For  Sargent  seems  a  pitiless  analyst  of 
some  human  nature.  Does  he  never  unconsciously  lead  his  sub- 
jects into  some  self-avowal  ?  Does  he  never  by  word  or  expression 
startle  from  his,  one  had  almost  said,  victim,  the  betrayal  with  which 
his  canvases  abound  ?  Does  he  never  permit  himself  to  see  with  a 
poet's  vision  deep  into  the  hidden  sad  places  of  life  which  are  far 
and  away  beyond  possible  material  expression .''  He  says,  never. 
And  if  we  accept  his  statement  we  may  perhaps  be  better  able  to  in 
part  account  for  to  what  has  to  many  seemed  the  limitations  of  Sar- 
gent's great  art;  namely,  his  almost  unvarying  tendency  to  portray 
the  minor  note  in  human  character,  as  though  he  apprehended  usually 
the  surface  quahty,  which  must  inevitably  be  that  phase  of  character 
which  the  sitter  is  most  anxious  to  hide,  and  because  of  his  desire 
writes  most  definitely  in  line  and  feature — the  desire  for  money,  the 
scorn  of  life,  failure  in  spite  of  riches,  money  without  acliievem'ent — 
these  he  paints,  one  quality  for  each  sitter  and  that  the  obvious  one. 
A  good  psychology  in  a  way,  as  far  as  it  goes. 

But,  as  a  rule,  real  human  nature,  rich  or  poor,  is  bigger  than  this. 
With  every  sadness  and  every  badness  there  is  some  compensating 
quality,  some  fineness  and  sweetness;  possibly  the  hard  financier  is 

165 


A  PAINTER   OF  PERSONALITY 

a  great  philanthropist,  the  scornful  woman  a  most  tender  mother, 
the  petted,  small  child  full  of  fine  tender  courtesy,  the  overconfident 
presuming  lad  true-hearted,  loyal.  And  so  the  painter  of  one 
phase  of  a  man's  life  is  not  painting  the  real  indi\'idual;  and  on  the 
other  hand  a  man  may  give  much  of  his  time  to  portraying  his  sub- 
ject with  all  the  truth  possible  psychologically  and  run  no  risk  of  miss- 
ins  ereat  art  achievement,  as  we  sometimes  seem  to  fear. 

AND  fortunately  there  is  the  artist  who  will  not  paint  a  portrait 
unless  it  is  possible  to  make  the  painting  also  a  true  psychologi- 
cal study,  an  expression  of  the  most  complete  individuahty 
which  he  can  achieve  in  the  right  surroundings  and  through  tireless 
effort.  Wilhelm  Funk  is  one  of  these  men.  It  is  not  enough  to  him 
that  he  should  rank  as  a  modern  master  of  technique  (and  by  this 
we  do  not  mean  one  kind  of  technique,  trained  into  a  vogue,  but  a 
technique  for  every  subject,  one  for  Wall  Street  and  one  for  the  nur- 
sery and  a  dozen  for  the  other  dozen  sitters) ;  but  he  desires  also 
through  this  technique  to  paint  temperament,  the  final  quahty  of  each 
subject,  to  reveal  all  the  truth  about  each  personahty  which  may 
relate  to  art,  and  to  reveal  it  in  the  most  beautiful  manner  in  which 
truth  may  be  told.  If  the  boy  he  is  painting  is  also  fearless  and  brave, 
you  will  see  it  in  his  eyes,  in  the  poise  of  his  head.  If  the  woman 
whom  you  had  feared  was  superciUous  has  latent  tenderness  and 
joy  in  motherhood,  she  will  tell  it  to  you  in  some  hne  or  some  tint. 
It  is  all  of  a  personality,  the  optimistic  as  well  as  the  morbid  phase, 
which  Mr.  Funk  strives  to  depict,  and  he  is  satisfied  with  nothing  less. 

He  finds  that  as  a  rule  people  come  to  a  studio  consciously  on  the 
defensive,  striving  to  protect  and  hide  their  individuality,  masked, 
silent;  even  children  become  self-conscious  at  first  in  the  face  of  an 
easel,  though  according  to  this  artist  they  are  less  so  than  the  older 
men  who  come.  Mr.  Funk  tells  the  story  of  a  beautiful  and  fashion- 
able woman  who  after  hours  of  unsatisfactory  posing  finally  sprang 
to  her  feet,  her  eyes  flashing,  and  said,  "Well,  what  do  you  want?" 

"Just  what  you  are  doing,  Mrs.  ,  forgetting  yourself,  showing 

a  quality  of  fire  and  strength  wliich  dominates  your  character." 
And  then  the  jiortrait  was  painted,  showing,  of  course,  some  of  the 
reserve  which  had  so  baffled  the  artist  during  the  day's  work,  but 
indicating  back  of  the  restraint  the  quahty  of  passionate  individuality 
wliich  was  the  essential  part  of  the  woman's  charm  and  magnetic 
quality.  It  is  thus  that  a  great  singer  understands  the  roles  she 
sings,  it  is  so  that  de  Pachman  plays  with  the  heart  and  soul  of  Chopin. 

"My  education  ended  at  fourteen,"  Mr.  Funk  told  me  as  he 
looked  lovingly  around  the  room,  wliich  must  have  been  for  him  as 

166 


A  PAINTER  OF  PERSONALITY 

for  me  an  expression  of  what  actual  education  should  stand  for.  It 
was  a  pleasant  room  in  which  to  hear  the  story  of  an  artist's  life, 
very  simply  told,  with  mainly  such  charm  as  came  from  fact.  Mr. 
Funk  was  born  in  Germany  and  when  still  a  very  little  boy  he  thought 
it  would  be  nice  to  be  a  great  artist.  But  he  belonged  to  thrifty 
German  manufacturing  people,  and  already  there  was  a  useless  artist 
uncle  in  the  family,  of  whom  the  httle  boy  heard  most  disparaging 
criticism  as  one  who  would  not  work  in  the  usual  hours  and  the  usual 
ways.  "No,  no,  this  boy  should  not  so  do.  He  should  learn  the 
more  profitable  business  and  have  money  to  spend  and  join  the  Vereine 
and  talk  politics  late  at  night  and  love  for  a  little  and  be  contented 
forever."  And  for  four  years  Wilhelm  did  what  he  could  to  begin 
to  reaHze  this  sensible  bourgeois  programme  for  his  life,  liking  it  less 
from  year  to  year,  and  then  he  ran  away  to  America  to  do  as  he  pleased, 
which,  of  course,  meant  eventually  to  paint.  Then  he  was  nineteen. 
And  there  followed  years  of  such  struggle  as  only  an  artist  with  the 
real  gift  superimposed  upon  German  tenacity  of  purpose  could  have 
overcome.  He  found  time  and  money  for  a  little  study  at  the  Art 
Students'  League,  and  there  were  four  dreary  years  of  routine  work 
in  the  art  department  of  a  New  York  newspaper.  After  this,  an 
occasional  chance  to  paint,  but  no  confidence  from  the  pubUc  in  his 
work.  When  he  imitated  he  was  ignored;  when  original,  with  a 
suggestion  of  the  brilliance  and  daring  which  has  grown  to  be  his  style 
in  later  years,  he  was  criticized.  Out  of  all  these  years  of  drudgery, 
of  heartbreak  and  disappointment  he  prefers  only  to  remember  the 
friends.  He  has  a  German  love  of  sympathy,  of  the  friendly  inter- 
course that  understands  and  expresses,  and  it  is  ^^'ith  very  bright 
eyes  and  very  tender  voice  that  he  speaks  of  the  friends  of  those 
times,  the  ones  who  believed.  They  were  all  life  held  for  him,  ex- 
cept ambition,  in  those  early  days.  Through  them  and  his  gift  and 
courage  he  succeeded. 

And  yet  all  the  difficulties  and  bitterness  of  the  struggle  to  acliieve 
seem  to  have  left  the  man  without  rancour  or  animosity.  He  has 
accepted  the  world  as  his  friend  and  on  the  whole  finds  it  good.  Of  the 
critics  he  says:  "At  last  they  believe  in  me.  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  success  would  come  too  late  and  that  I  should  not  care,  but  today  it 
is  here;  they  believe  in  me."  He  does  not  say  "I  have  won,"  but 
simply  "They  believe  in  me,"  wliich  tells  of  the  struggle  of  one  man 
with  all  the  world  on  the  other  side.  And  as  you  come  away  out  of 
the  peace  of  the  beautiful  room,  down  the  green  stairway,  you  bring 
with  you  the  impression  of  a  man  who  has  fought  fearlessly,  valiantly ; 
achieved  brilliantly ;  who  is  young  enough  to  be  glad  and  great  enough 
to  be  humble. 

167 


THE    LAMOVOI   LETTER:   BY   COUNTESS   N. 
TOLSTOI 

lAMOVOI  is  a  typical  Russian  village  of  about  three 
hundred  inhabitants,  fifty  or  sixty  dilapidated  log 
houses  and  twice  as  many  barns  and  stables.  Two 
snaall  smoked  windows  with  glaring  red  or  blue  frames 
and  smutty  looking  straw  roofs  without  chimneys  are 
seen  at  each  house.  All  the  smoke  caused  by  making 
the  fire  and  cooking  the  meals  passes  out  through  the 
open  door.  To  build  a  chimney  costs  three  rubles,  and  as  the  vil- 
lagers do  not  know  how  to  make  one  and  are  too  poor  to  pay  for 
having  it  done  they  are  obliged  to  do  without  such  a  luxury. 

"Maria,  a  letter  has  come.  Hurry  and  tell  Vassili  and  everyone 
you  know  that  a  letter  has  just  come  for  Peter,  the  blacksmith.  Ilia, 
the  policeman,  brought  it,  and  gave  it  to  Tatiana,  Peter's  wife,  be- 
cause Peter  was  not  at  home.  Siie  was  greatly  surprised  at  receiving 
it  and  concealed  it  tremblingly  behind  the  holy  picture.  She,  poor 
angel,  became  so  pale  and  excited  over  the  incident  that  she  neglected 
to  feed  her  cows,  sheep  and  pigs.  She  herself  has  not  eaten  anything 
— now  she  has  no  appetite.  I  was  there  nearly  an  hour  and  saw 
everything.  I  saw  the  letter — the  yellow  envelope  with  the  two  blue 
stamps.  The  cows  low  and  the  pigs  grunt  in  the  yard — hungry — 
I  pitied  them — gave  them  some  hay  and  potatoes — but  what  do  I 
know  about  feeding  another  man's  animals .''  I  am  a  stranger. 
Poor,  poor  Tatiana!"  Thus  hastily  spoke  Filip,  a  tall,  lean  and 
gray-bearded  peasant  of  the  village  of  Lamovoi. 

"A  letter  for  Peter.?"  queried  Maria,  with  surprise.  She  was  a 
stolid  looking  woman  of  forty,  standing  at  the  open  door  of  her  house, 
where  Filip,  dressed  in  a  dirty  looking  ragged  sheepskin  fur  had 
paused.  "How  did  it  happen .?"  she  queried.  "Is  it  an  important 
letter  and  do  you  know  who  sent  it.''" 

"O,  dorogoi — my  dear!  I  don't  know  that  and  neither  does  she 
because  she  did  not  dare  open  it.  Since  I  can  remember  no  letter 
has  ever  been  opened  in  Lamovoi  by  the  person  to  whom  it  was 
handed.  Only  the  one  to  whom  it  is  addressed  or  the  priest  has  the 
right  to  open  it.  I  remember  twenty  years  back  and  during  that  time 
eighteen  letters  have  come  to  our  village,"  muttered  Filip  proudly, 
gazing  at  the  clouds. 

"iPilip,  that's  great  news  indeed.  A  letter — to  Lamovoi — that 
is  unusual,"  said  Maria,  gravely  shaking  her  head  and  gesticulating 
vehemently,  while  Filip  stood  silent  as  a  statue.  "I  will  put  out  my 
fire  and  not  bother  any  more  with  the  cooking  and  the  preparations 
for  dinner.  A  letter  has  come — who  then  has  time  to  eat  a  dinner  or 
to  sit  quietly  in  the  house  .^     Let  us  go  first  to  Vassili.  for  he  is  so 

i68 


WILHELM    FUNK,    AMERICAN 
PORTRAIT    PAINTER. 


Cofy\>Tight,  irjnS,   by   The  Detroit  I'uhUshing  Co. 


MISS    DUKOTHEA    BIGELOW  : 
WILHELM  FUNK.  PAINTER. 


^  ^  \\. 


?m^  -m. 


RICHl.V  WUOl'caiT  OOOR-ITl.l.S.  HANDLES 
AND  ESC-L'TCHEON  OF  THE  FM-TEENTM  AND 
SIXTEENTH    CENTl'RIES. 


IIIIKK.NTII     iKNTl'ln     DiKlR    AT    WOIJ.MS,    KMIKELY 
IIVKI-'I.  Mil     Willi     l(l(  Ilj-V    W  KnUGUT     IRON. 


A   WICKET  UOOR   FROM    AUCSBURG. 
SIXTEENTH-CENTURY  IRON  WORK. 


AX    I-;\  A  M  I'l.K    (II-    TI111I--U  mili.IlT    okNAMEXI 
ON    A    noiiK    KN('CKF-R    iir    TllK     MIDDLE    AGE^ 


GOTHIC   URorGHT   IKOX    HIN. 
SIXTEENTH    CENTURV. 


IIAK    Gdll-F.k.    DI"I.H\IID    Willi     FKK  Xl   H   \\  Kl  H   I .  M  T- 1  Rl  IX    SlRllI.E- 

wciRK    i.AriH;    ii\iF  (II     III;:   nimrFFXTii   iFxrrRV. 


C'rv'ig^'.   ''''■''■    f-'v    Thf   Detroit    ruhlishtug  Co. 


ANN  SETON  :   WILHELM 
FUNK,   PAINTER. 


Ci'rv'ii;iil.    /v"\    liv    III'     I'li^'i:    I  ;:l'l:  ,:n:i; 


"la  pkthk  axcki.ine   :  wilhelm 

FUNK.    rAIMKIi. 


THE  LAMOVOI  LETTER 

wise,  and  the  oldest  man  of  the  village,  and  then  we  will  see  some 
others." 

Maria  disappeared  hastily  into  the  room,  for  she  realized  that  to 
tell  her  neighbors  that  a  letter  had  come  would  prove  the  most  extra- 
ordinary news  that  she  could  give.  Filip  stood  solemnly  like  a  sentinel 
outside  the  door  in  the  street,  his  thoughts  turning  to  the  letter.  In 
a  few  minutes  Maria  returned  wearing  ner  blue  apron  and  a  new  red 
scarf  around  her  head,  which  she  put  on  only  during  the  festival  days 
when  she  went  to  church  or  made  her  important  visits. 

"But  can  you  guess  from  whom  the  letter  might  be.''"  began 
Maria  in  a  melancholy  voice.  "Poor  Tatiana!  She  must  be  ex- 
cited. Is  Viera,  her  daughter,  not  at  home .''  Perhaps  she  became 
so  frightened  at  the  incident  that  she  went  away.  Well,  well !  After 
I  am  through  with  my  calls  I  \vi\\  go  and  feed  her  animals.  I  will  take 
also  some  sugar  and  vodka  and  make  her  a  cup  of  hot  punch.  Vodka 
with  hot  water  and  sugar  is  good  for  excitement.  But  where  is  Peter, 
her  husband .''" 

"He  is  in  the  woods  getting  timber,"  replied  Fihp.  "He  will 
not  be  at  home  until  late  in  the  evening,  unless  a  messengers-is  sent 
immediately.  I  imagine  how  surprised  he  will  be  when  he  hears 
that  a  letter  has  come.  I  think  it  is  the  second  letter  he  has  ever 
received.     But  the  question  is,  who  can  read  the  letter.?" 

"H'm;  I  do  not  know  a  single  man  at  Lamovoi  who  can  read. 
I  do  not  know  even  anyone  at  Velikoe,  and  Velikoe  is  twice  as  large 
a  village  as  ours,"  spoke  Maria  more  gravely  than  before. 

"I  know  many  people  at  Velikoe  who  can  read  a  book,"  replied 
Filip,  lighting  his  pipe,  "but  I  think  hardly  anyone  there  can  read 
or  write  a  letter,  except  Father  John,  the  priest.  I  am  sure  he  will 
gladly  read  it,  because  he  has  read  more  than  five  letters  for  our 
people.  As  I  remember,  he  has  never  asked  any  pay,  either,  except 
two  quarts  of  vodka  and  one  small  pig.     God  give  him  health." 

"P'st,  Filip,"  whispered  Maria,  as  if  being  reminded  of  sometliing 
very  important.  "I  know  a  man  who  is  in  our  village  now,  who  can 
read  it.  He  arrived  last  evening.  They  say  he  is  a  soldier  and  a 
friend  of  Vassili — his  name  is  Vasska.  Maybe  you  remember  him. 
He  sings  merry  songs,  accompanies  them  with  concertina,  reads  news- 
papers and  writes  letters  of  all  kinds.'  Two  years  ago  he  was  in  our 
village.  The  funny  songs  he  sang  and  the  wonderful  dances  he 
performed  made  everybody  laugh.  He  is  dressed  in  black,  carries 
always  pencil  and  paper  with  him  and  writes  letters  as  well  as  the 
priest.  The  only  trouble  Av-ith  him  is  that  he  gets  drunk  after  two 
glasses  of  vodka  and  loses  his  head.  He  cannot  drink  as  much  vodka 
as   our  men,   without  getting  drunk." 

169 


THE   LAMOVOI   LETTER 

"That's  the  trouble  with  all  the  people  who  can  read  and  write," 
interrupted  Filip.  "They  cannot  drink  as  much  vodka  as,  for  in- 
stance, Peter  or  I,  without  losing  their  heads.  That  is  the  result  of 
education.  You  know  when  I  wanted  to  educate  my  son  Nica,  the 
priest  John  said  to  me:  'Don't  be  a  fool  and  send  your  son  to  a  school. 
The  school  will  spoil  him.  He  will  become  a  drunkard  or  a  thief. 
It  will  be  better  for  you  both  to  leave  him  without  education.'  I 
think  the  batushka  (priest)  was  right.  He  would  not  say  that  unless 
he  knows.  I  have  observed  myself  that  the  men  who  can  read 
and  write  are  worse  than  those  who  cannot.  After  reading  books  and 
writing  letters  and  silly  tilings  they  begin  to  brood  upon  things  which 
they  have  read  and  they  become  troubled,  ill  and  unhappy.  Look 
at  our  doctor,  the  priest  and  the  landlord,  look  at  all  the  educated 
city  people  and  you  see  how  much  more  they  are  worried  and  dis- 
tressed than  we  are.  They  are  not  happy  and  education  never  brings 
happiness.  They  sleep  more,  eat  better  and  live  in  better  houses 
than  we  do,  but  nevertheless  they  look  pale  and  sickly.  The  Czar 
and  the  priests  must  be  aware  of  this  fact;  that's  the  reason  they 
object  to  education  and  the  schools." 

"God  knows  that,"  answered  Maria,  and  pondering  a  few  mo- 
ments, she  continued:  "I  think  they  are  not  sincere  in  refusing  to 
allow  us  to  educate  our  children.  The  priest  and  the  Czar  believe 
that  their  children  should  be  taught  to  read  books  and  write  letters, 
but  they  don't  like  it  that  we,  the  peasants,  should  educate  our  chil- 
dren. But  one  thing  which  I  cannot  understand  is  how  being  able 
to  read  and  write  is  bad  for  one." 

Filip  gazed  gravely  at  Maria,  lifted  his  hand  and  said: 

"Maria,  I  know  that.  It  is  because  education  was  origi- 
nated not  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  but  by  the  old  devil  himself.  God, 
for  instance,  does  not  know  how  to  read  a  book,  neither  does  He 
know  how  to  read  a  letter.  But  the  de\dl  is  a  clever  chap  and  knows 
how  to  do  both.  Had  God  understood  reading  and  writing  He 
would  not  need  the  priest  to  read  to  Him  the  prayers  in  the  church 
every  Sunday.  The  priest  reads  all  the  prayers  and  sermons  from 
the  book,  because  God  does  not  know  how  to  read  them  Himself." 

Maria  looked  with  surprise  at  Filip,  for  she  never  had  discussed 
such  questions  with  the  men,  and  after  thinking  a  moment  replied: 

"If  that  is  so,  then  the  priest  must  be  a  disciple  of  the  devil  for 
he  writes  and  reads." 

"No,  no,"  shouted  Filip,  energetically  shaking  his  head.  "That 
is  not  so.  The  priest  has  been  shrewd  enough  to  learn  how  to  read 
and  write  from  the  old  devil,  but  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  lum  now. 
He  reads  and  writes  for  God,  who  is  too  old  to  learn  from  the  priest." 

170 


THE  LAMOVOI  LETTER 

"  Oh,  I  see.  That  is  very  curious.  So  God  is  an  uneducated  man 
like  all  our  \allage  people.     How  glad  I  am  to  hear  that." 

They  walked  a  distance  without  any  conversation,  for  VassiU's 
house  was  the  last,  back  of  the  village.     Then  Fihp  stopped  and  began : 

"Now,  Maria,  do  you  remember  how  long  it  is  since  VassiU  got 
a  letter  from  Vasska,  the  same  man  who  is  now  staying  with  him  ? 
I  remember  he  wrote  to  Vassili  that  he  wanted  to  marry  a  girl  from 
Lamovoi,  because  the  cows  and  pigs,  which  are  given  as  dowry  to 
a  girl,  are  fatter  and  of  much  better  breed  here  than  those  of  any  other 
village.  He  wrote  also  that  he  liked  our  maids  because  they  knew 
how  to  make  coffee,  bake  white  bread  and  cook  delicious  meals." 

"Oh,  I  remember  now,"  replied  Maria.  "Three  days  previous 
to  that  my  hen  had  hatched  the  chickens  which  are  now  six  months 
old.  That  was  in  summer.  All  the  people  of  the  village  hstened, 
breatliless,  to  the  priest  as  he  read  that  letter  in  VassiU's  garden. 
A  pig  was  roasted  for  that  occasion  and  the  priest  ate  with  great 
appetite.  I  made  tea  and  Peter  brought  some  vodka.  That  was  a 
great  time." 

Thus  chatting,  Fihp  and  Maria  arrived  at  the  house  of  VassiU, 
which  they  entered  with  serious  faces. 

The  news  that  Peter  had  received  a  letter  spread  Uke  wildfire 
througtiout  the  village.  The  topic  of  conversation  everywhere  was — 
the  letter.  The  women,  appearing  at  the  open  doors  and  windows, 
showed  excited  and  curious  faces.  Scores  of  ragged  children  walked 
around  the  house  of  Peter,  curious  to  know  in  which  place  the  letter 
was  kept.  Tatiana,  Peter's  wife,  sat  dejectedly  in  the  room  near 
the  holy  picture  and  seemed  careworn  and  pale.  She  looked  as  if 
something  of  the  greatest  importance  had  happened. 

After  a  general  consultation  on  the  part  of  Filip,  VassiU  and  the 
other  notables  of  the  village,  a  messenger  was  sent  to  Peter  to  tell  him 
to  come  home  immediately. 

The  coming  of  a  letter  was  always  the  most  exciting  event  at 
Lamovoi,  and  for  many  weeks  afterward  it  remained  the  leading 
subject  in  the  minds  of  the  villagers.  One  letter,  as  a  rule,  was  re- 
ceived during  the  year;  and  this  was  read  aloud  before  the  whole 
population  of  the  village  and  the  day  was  made  a  sort  of  festival. 
The  Ufe  in  Lamovoi  was  one  without  books  and  letters — a  good  and 
happy  Ufe,  as  Filip  and  all  the  people  themselves  believed.  That 
there  could  be  a  better  and  more  perfect  life  anywhere  else  in  the 
world  was  not  dreamed  of  by  anyone. 

Peter  hurried  back  from  the  woods  with  the  messenger.  Grave 
and  stern  was  his  look  as  he  passed  the  dozen  boys  who  stood  at  the 
corners  of  the  streets.     Their  behavior  to  Peter  was  more  respectful 

171 


THE   LAMOVOI   LETTER 

than  it  had  been  ever  before,  as  they  whispered  to  each  other  in  awe : 
"Peter  has  a  letter." 

As  he  entered  the  house  his  wife  in  her  hoHdaj  dress  met  him 
at  the  door,  grasped  liis  hand  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and  muttered : 

"God  be  praised  that  you  are  here!  I  put  it  behind  the  holy 
picture.  It  is  in  a  yellow  envelope,  with  two  blue  stamps — and 
heavy.  When  will  you  have  it  read  'i  Do  you  intend  to  invite  the 
priest }  A  pig  will  have  to  be  killed  and  roasted  in  honor  of  the  read- 
ing." 

Peter  sighed  and  his  long  face  grew  still  longer.  He  took  off  his 
sheepskin  fur,  washed  his  hands,  and  walked  gravely  to  the  holy 
picture.  Standing  there  reverently  he  crossed  himself  nine  times, 
knelt  before  the  picture  nine  times,  and  repeated  his  sacred  prayer 
nine  times.  After  beintr  through  with  that  he  tremblintjlv  removed 
the  letter  from  its  hiding  place,  turned  it  over  and  over  in  his  hands, 
examining  it  as  carefully  as  possible.  Putting  it  in  a  big  wooden  box 
he  said: 

"Tatiana,  my  dove,  I  will  not  open  it  now.  The  messenger  boy 
told  me  that  Vasska,  a  friend  of  Vassili,  is  in  the  village.  Two  years 
ago  he  was  Vassili's  guest  and  talked  and  joked  with  our  Viera  more 
than  with  any  other  maid — you  w  ill  probably  remember  liim  ?  I 
did  not  like  him  because  he  shaved  off  his  beard,  cut  short  his  hair 
and  wore  a  silver  watch  with  a  gilded  chain.  To  my  mind  a  man 
who  does  those  tilings  is  vain  and  haughty.  Otherwise  he  was  a 
congenial  fellow,  and  as  he  can  read  and  write  letters  it  will  not  be 
necessary  for  us  to  invite  the  priest." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  know-  him.  He  liked  our  cows  and  pigs.  He  asked 
me  how  many  cows  and  pigs  I  would  give  as  a  marriage  gift  with 
Viera,"  replied  Tatiana,  leaning  her  head  on  her  right  hand  while 
gesticulating  in  the  air  with  the  left. 

Several  hours  passed.  It  was  now  evening.  No  one  in  the  vil- 
lage owned  a  watch,  but  tlie  people  could  tell  the  time  at  night  by 
the  stars  and  during  the  day  by  the  sun.  The  room  in  which  the 
letter  was  to  be  read  was  filled  mth  people.  This  room,  though  the 
largest,  w'as  not  large  enough  to  accommodate  all. 

Between  Filip  and  Vasska,  the  stranger,  who  had  been  invited  to 
read  the  letter,  sat  Peter,  holding  the  big  w  ooden  box  which  enclosed 
the  letter.  As  he  drew  it  forth  one  coukl  hear  the  beating  of  the  hearts 
of  the  assembly,  so  great  was  the  attention. 

"Vasska,  I  reciuest  you  to  be  so  good  as  to  read  the  letter  for  us 
which  came  today,"  spoke  Peter  with  a  grave  voice,  turning  to  Vasska. 
Then  Vasska  glanced  at  Petei',  who  tremblingly  kept  the  letter.  As 
Vasska  hesitated,  he  smiled. 

172 


THE   LAMOVOI   LE'^TTER 

"Don't  yoii  want  to  read  it?"  asked  Filip  excitedly,  looking 
with  surprise  at  Vasska.  Vasska  burst  out  laughing.  He  laughed 
so  long  and  so  loud  that  the  people  did  not  know  what  to  make  of 
it.     At  last  he  whispered: 

"This  is  the  funniest  incident  in  my  life." 

Then  he  coughed,  chuckled  and  repHed: 

"  Very  well.     I  \\'ill  read  it  to  you.' 

"  Hush !     Be  quiet !"  said  Peter  to  the  audience,  shaking  his  finger. 

Vasska  then  opened  the  envelope,  unrolled  a  small  photograph  and 
handed  it  to  Peter  who  began  to  stare  at  it  while  Vasska  began  his 
reachng : 

"My  dear  Peter  and  Tatiana: 

"Without  shaking  your  hands  and  seeing  your  faces,  I  greet  you 
as  one  whom  you  know.  I  have  something  important  at  my  heart 
which  I  ^"ill  explain  to  you  in  this  letter.  I  want  it  to  be  a  secret 
among  ourselves. 

"Two  years  ago  you  had  some  nice  looking  cows,  pretty  pigs  and 
a  nice  red  carriage,  which  you  said  you  would  give  as  a  marriage 
gift  Tftnth  your  daughter,  Viera.  I  tliink  I  could  use  them  now.  But 
I  want  you  to  add  to  these  two  new  suits  of  home-made  clothes,  one 
for  me  and  the  other  for  m}'  old  father.  Please  let  me  know  immedi- 
ately if  these  and  Viera  are  still  at  your  disposal  .*  If  so,  will  you  then 
give  them  all  to  me  'i  I  enclose  my  picture  which  will  impress  you 
sufficiently.  I  will  suit  your  daughter  better  than  will  anyone  else  in 
Lamovoi.  I  will  never  abuse  her,  never  get  up  before  sunrise  and 
never  refuse  to  buy  a  new  apron  whenever  she  likes.  I  remain  your 
old  friend Ha,  ha,  ha!'' 

Vasska  laughed  again  and  said  that  his  reading  was  finished. 
Everyone  rushed  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  picture,  everyone  touched 
the  letter  and  smelled  it.  At  last  the  picture  was  passed  to  Viera. 
She  gazed  upon  it,  tittered  and  showed  it  to  her  friends.  Peter  took 
the  letter  and  picture,  stood  up  and  asked  Viera  gravely: 

"  Do  you  know  this  man  .'     How  does  he  look  to  you  .' " 

Then  he  turned  to  Vassili.  Filip  and  other  notable  men  of  Lamovoi : 

"You  have  heard  the  letter  and  you  have  glanced  at  the  picture. 
What  is  your  opinion  ?" 

"H'm,"  replied  Vassili.  "We  have  all  heard  the  letter  and  seen 
the  picture,  but  I  would  not  suggest  that  you  marry  your  daughter  and 
get  rid  of  your  property  by  mail.  Two  cows  as  a  gift  to  Viera  are 
really  too  many.  And  besides  he  wishes  to  have  the  two  best  pigs 
your  new  red  carriage  and  the  two  suits  of  clothes.  Viera  is  a  pretty, 
healthy  and  strong  girl  and  does  not  need  such  a  heavy  dowry.  When 
the  city  people  marry  their  daughters  they  do  not  give  even  one  cow 

173 


» 


THE   LAMOVOI   LETTER 

as  a  marriage  gift.  This  man  demands  too  much.  Judging  from 
his  picture  he  is  not  worth  much  himself.  For  instance  he  wears  a 
white  collar  and  a  yellow  necktie  like  the  city  people.  He  is,  no 
doubt,  a  conceited  man." 

"That  is  not  all,"  interrupted  Filip;  "I  never  heard  of  anyone 
marrying  by  letter.  Letters  and  books  are  invented  by  the  devil 
and  you  must  not  sell  your  daughter  in  this  way.  You  know  that 
even  the  Czar  does  not  marry  his  daughters  by  mail.  Write  him  a 
reply,  and  say  that  we  at  Lamovoi  have  no  cows  or  pigs  for  men  who 
like  to  marry  a  girl  by  mail." 

"Viera,  do  you  think  you  would  like  him  .'^"  asked  Tatiana,  her 
mother,  her  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"No,  no,"  shouted  Viera.  "I  dislike  him.  His  hair  is  short  and 
his  coat  looks  so  silly.  He  must  be  a  loafer  according  to  his  picture. 
I  do  not  care  to  have  my  cows  and  pigs  owned  by  a  man  like  that." 

"That's  right,"  added  Vassili.  " But,  Vasska,  what  do  you  think  .' 
Should  Peter  give  his  daughter,  his  cows  and  pigs  to  such  a  stranger  ?" 

"I  think  he  ought  to  give  them,"  spoke  Vasska,  and  his  face  was 
very  pale  and  his  hands  trembled. 

Peter  scanned  him  mutely  and  replied: 

"Vasska,  if  you  were  the  man,  who  would  ask  for  my  cows,  pigs 
and  Viera  I  would  not  hesitate  to  give  them.  You  are  a  man  whom 
we  would  like  to  have  at  Lamovoi,  for  you  would  write  and  read  our 
letters,  play  the  concertina  and  sing.  Viera  would  not  have  any 
objection  to  you.     Isn't  that  so  ?" 

Viera  looked  from  her  father  to  Vasska,  blushed  and  sobbed: 

"Vasska  is  a  man  whom  our  cows  and  pigs  would  like,  and  no  dog 
in  Lamovoi  barks  at  him.  I  have  conversed  and  danced  with  him 
and  know  that  he  is  worthy  of  any  maid  at  Lamovoi." 

"Are  you  in  earnest.'  Would  you  give  me  both  the  pink  cows, 
both  of  last  year's  pigs,  the  new  red  carriage,  the  two  suits  of  clothes 
and  Viera  ?"  asked  V asska  vnlh  an  excited  voice,  grasping  Peter's 
hand.     Viera  smiled  and  blushed  once  more. 

"Gladly,  Vasska,"  rephed  Peter.  "Well,  VassiH  and  Filip,  have 
your  horses  harnessed  and  let  us  drive  to  the  priest.  1  think 
it  is  not  necessary  to  waste  any  more  time  on  this  subject.  I  would 
like  to  get  rid  of  my  cows,  pigs,  red  carriage  and  Viera.  The  priest 
knows  how  to  join  man  to  woman  and  we  know  how  to  celebrate  the 
wedding  ceremony." 

"A  marriage,  the  marriage  of  Vasska  and  Viera!"  roared  the 
children  outside. 

"I  am  happy — so  happy,"  spoke  Vasska,  with  glowing  eyes, 
looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  cows  and  the  pigs  in  the  street  which 

174 


THE   LAMOVOI   LETTER 

were  soon  to  be  his  property.  Viera  rushed  to  dress  herself  and  to  get 
ready  the  two  suits  of  clothes.  Peter  in  the  meanwhile  approached 
Vasska  and  said: 

"Vasska,  write  a  good  and  strong  reply  to  that  man  whose  letter 
you  read  us.  You  know  how  to  write.  Say  that  my  cows,  pigs  and 
other  things  are  disposed  of.  I  would  not  give  anything  through  a 
letter  to  a  man  like  him.  You  might  also  add  that  after  finishing  the 
writing  you  will  be  the  owner  of  them  all.  Curse  him  as  heavily  as 
you  know  how." 

Vasska  smiled  and  hesitated.  Peter  and  all  the  other  men  of  the 
village  insisted  that  Vasska  should  write  immediately.  After  a  pause 
Vasska  rose  from  his  seat  and  said : 

"It  is  not  possible  to  write  him,  for  I  myself  am  the  fool  who  sent 
the  letter  and  picture.  A  week  ago  I  mailed  the  letter  and  waited 
the  reply.  But  the  reply  did  not  come  and  I  could  not  longer  wait  for 
the  answer  so  I  came  personally,  but  my  letter  had  arrived  at  the  same 
time.     The  letter  and  the  picture  which  you  condemned  were  mine." 

"Ugh,  all  the  saints  be  praised!"  exclaimed  Peter  crossing  him- 
self.    All  the  people  in  the  assembly  shouted  also: 

"That's  incredible!     Impossible!     Oh,  God  be  gracious." 

"Vasska,  is  that  really  your  letter  and  picture.^  Is  it  not  much 
wiser  to  get  married  without  a  letter .-"  sobbed  Viera,  who  had  mean- 
while returned,  dressed  for  the  ceremony. 

"I  think  Vasska  is  joking,  and  we  must  not  believe  his  jokes," 
said  Tatiana,  laughing. 

Filip  who  had  taken  the  letter  and  smelled  it,  said: 

"It  has  the  smell  of  the  devil's  fingers.  It  is  surely  not  written 
by  Vasska.     You  may  all  smell  it." 

Everyone  was  curious  to  smell  it,  for  it  was  perfumed  with  an 
odor  which  nobody  in  the  village  had  ever  smelled.  After  the  letter 
and  picture  were  smelled  by  everybody  Maria  seized  them  and  threw 
them  out  into  the  yard.  At  this  the  pigs,  which  were  to  be  Viera's 
wedding  gift,  got  frightened  and  ran  away  as  fast  as  they  could. 

"Now  look  out,"  exclaimed  Fihp.  "The  pigs  of  Viera  don't 
like  them.  They  smell  the  wrong  things  pretty  well  from  the  right. 
No  more  letters  to  Lamovoi.     We  don't  need  them." 

The  people  laughed  and  joked  and  started  to  drive  to  the  church. 
In  a  few  hours  the  church  was  filled.  Viera  and  Vasska  stood  with 
happy  faces  and  crowned  heads  before  the  altar.  The  priest  solemnly 
read  the  marriage  sermon.  The  guests  thought  of  the  wedding,  the 
meals  and  the  vodka;  Viera's  mind  was  busy  with  the  letter  and  the 
two  new  suits  of  clothes;  but  Vasska's  thoughts  turned  toward  the 
cows,  the  pigs  and  the  new  red  carriage. 

175 


MORE  OF  THE  AMERICAN  SPIRIT  IN  THE 
SPRING  EXHIBITION  OF  THE  NATIONAL 
ACADEMY  OF  DESIGN 

I  HE  National  Academy,  although  it  is  in  its  eighty- 
fourth  exhibition  this  spring,  seems  somehow  younger 
than  usual.  Its  canvases  have  a  fresher  complexion, 
a  look  of  greater  virility.  It  is  (if  the  academicians 
will  permit  it)  as  though  it  were  more  Americanized. 
One  is  inclined  almost  to  believe  that  year  by  year 
we  are  letting  ourselves  forget  the  Holland  lowlands, 
the  low  bridges  over  the  Seine  and  the  picturesque  quality  of  the 
Loing,  that  eventually  we  will  permit  the  Arno  to  flow  more  often 
over  Italian  canvases  and  leave  to  Sorolla  and  Zuloaga  the  presenta- 
tion of  liidalgos  and  picadors. 

Of  course,  tliis  is  only  true  in  part.  We  are  still,  some  of  us, 
faithful  to  our  traditions.  It  is  possible  still  to  find  an  opponent  to  the 
argument  that  America  is  entitled  to  her  own  art  expression.  But  that 
the  Academy  has  quaffed  even  for  a  short  time  at  the  fountain  of 
youth  is  a  matter  of  sincere  congratulation,  not  only  to  the  Academy 
but  to  the  public.  It  is  a  good  tiling  as  one  moves  from  gallery  to 
gallery  to  see  on  the  walls  more  sunlight  and  fewer  cabarets,  more 
children  and  fewer  boulevardiers,  more  New  England,  more  New 
York,  more  of  our  big  vital  West,  more  portraits  that  are  virile  and 
human,  more  landscapes  that  are  the  very  essence  of  what  we  grow 
liomesick  for  when  away  from  America.  In  other  words,  we  rejoice 
to  see  more  of  Glackens,  Lawson.  Redfield,  Schofield,  Tryon, 
]>ougherty,  Lathrop,  Henri,  Funk,  Wiles;  and  we  wish  that  ]Met- 
calf,  Sloan  and  Shinn  were  there  on  the  line  as  they  deserve  to  be, 
and  we  would  like  a  glimpse  of  Remington  hung  in  the  Vanderbilt 
Gallery  occasionally,  l^ecause  he  belongs  wherever  the  new  spirit 
in  American  art  finds  wall  space.  Groll  is  represented,  which  is 
good,  and  beside  him  we  should  like  to  see  some  of  Akin's  Colorado 
Canyon  pictures,  for  he  has  found  in  a  wonderful  manner  the  color  and 
the  melodrama  of  the  Western  atmosphere,  better  sometimes  than 
Groll,  thoufjh  he  is  never  so  good  a  draughtsman. 

Wliat  is  also  noticeable  at  the  Academy,  even  more  so  than  tha 
sunliglit  and  the  occasional  delightful  sense  of  brilliant  color,  is  the 
fact  Uiat  almost  every  man  at  tliis  particular  exhibit  was  represented 
by  work  which  is  up  to  his  standard  of  good  things.  Occasionally 
you  feel  that  you  are  having  a  chance  to  see  the  very  best  that  a  par- 
ticular man  has  yet  done.  This  was  true  of  the  "Coast  Scene"  by 
Paul  Dougherty,  which  hung  near  the  Sargent  on  the  west  wall. 
You  also  feel  it  in  Wilhelm  Funk's  portrait  of  Mrs.  Qualy  (a  master- 

176 


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SUNSET     CLOW     ;      ROBERT 
REID,   PAINTER. 


horses:    IIANIKL  CARKKK.    PAINTER:    WINNER   OF   THE 
FIRST    IIAl.I.CARTEN    TKIZE   AT   THE   SPRING    ACAllK.MY 


MELTING    SNOW  :     DANIEL 
GAKMR,    PAINTER. 


TlIK    I'LAVM  ATKS 
THE    THOMAS    n. 


l.VDIA    F.    FMMKT,    PAINTEK;    WINNER    OF 
U.AKKK     I'RIZF     AT    THE    SPK[NG     ACADEMY 


AN  ACADEMY  WITH  AN  AMERICAN  FLAVOR 

piece  of  subtly  related  color,  of  brilliant  technique  and  of  definite 
personality).  You  find  it  in  Irving  Wiles's  "A  Quiet  Corner," 
which  is  a  delightful  contrast  in  color  and  technique  to  his  dramatic 
portrait  of  Mme.  Gerville-Reache,  giving  an  idea  of  the  strength 
and  versatility  of  this  significant  American  portrait  painter.  "The 
Valley,"  by  Mrs.  Coman,  is  another  canvas  which  seems  of  its  kind 
a  masterpiece;  also  the  "Horses"  of  Daniel  Garber,  and  surely  Ben- 
Ali  Haggin  has  done  nothing  better  than  his  portrait  of  "Elfrida."  In 
the  sending  of  this  grade  of  work  to  an  exhibit  one  feels  that  the 
artists  show  a  very  tine  kind  of  respect  to  the  public,  and  to  them- 
selves, for  that  matter.  The  work  of  the  hanging  committee  at  the 
spring  Academy  is  exceptional.  The  canvases  are  interestingly 
related  on  the  walls,  and  except  where  there  is  too  much  crowding 
there  is  a  gratifying  sense  of  composition  and  color  even  before  one 
definitely  separates  the  different  pictures.  In  other  words,  the 
exhibit  is  interesting  both  in  wall  grouping  and  in  isolated  subject. 

Possibly  the  most  significant  display  as  a  whole  of  canvases  shown 
by  one  man  was  the  work  of  Irving  R.  Wiles,  comprising  as  it  did  the 
portrait  of  the  Manhattan  Opera  House  singer,  '  A  Quiet  Corner" 
and  the  portrait  of  Miss  Hollister.  So  little  does  this  artist  imitate 
his  own  work  that  except  for  a  ressemblance  of  really  fine  workman- 
ship these  three  studies  of  womankind  might  be  the  achievement 
of  three  different  artists.  In  each  instance  the  portrait  is  domi- 
nated by  the  personality  of  the  subject,  not  by  the  individuaUty  of  the 
painter.  We  have  grown  so  in  the  habit  of  taking  the  surpassingly 
good  work  of  Mr.  Wiles's  portraits  for  granted  that  it  sometimes 
seems  to  me  we  do  not  write  of  them  with  the  fresh  enthusiasm  they 
deserve,  for  there  is  nothing  we  so  readily  accustom  ourselves  to  as 
the  habit  of  excellence  in  others. 

When  one  attempts  from  memory  to  characterize  the  exhibit, 
it  is  the  portrait  and  landscape  work  that  unquestionably  dominate 
each  gallery  in  turn.  By  landscape  I  do  not  mean  essentially  woods 
or  meadows  or  hillsides;  I  mean  rather  all  outdoors,  river  banks, 
shipping  docks,  Fifth  Avenue  Tvith  the  green  stage  as  the  color  accent, 
a  factory  on  a  Cos  Cob  inlet.  I  mean  Glackens  and  Lawson  and 
Redfield,  or  Murphy,  although  I  am  not  sure  that  the  latter  was  repre- 
sented at  all.  More  and  more  I  think  one  is  impressed  with  the 
extraordinary  excellence  and  distinction  of  American  portrait  work, 
whether  searching  through  the  Academies,  the  galleries  of  picture 
dealers  or  the  studios.  It  is  in  the  portrayal  of  personality  and  in  the 
Plein  Air  treatment  of  subjects  that  our  American  artists  are  mainly 
and  most  significantly  producing  great  work.  Our  artists  are  seek- 
ing realities  in  life,  nay  more,  actualities,  whether  in  landscape  or 

i8i 


OUTDOOR  FRIENDS 

portrait,  and  they  are  realizing  greater  and  greater  achievement 
along  the  lines  ot"  sincerity  and  simplicity. 

The  Sargent  portrait  was  as  usual  given  first  place.  It  is  the 
painting  of  a  young  girl,  self-confident,  slightly  supercilious,  very 
mondaine,  and 'done  so  brilliantly  that  the  color  fairly  crackles  at 
the  edges.  But  with  Sargent's  work,  more  and  more,  we  receive 
the  impression  that  he  is  painting  for  his  own  interest,  even  his  own 
amusement,  with  a  certain  arrogant  confidence,  a  snap  of  the  fingers. 
Yet  who  will  say  that  in  Wilhelm  Funk's  portrait  of  Mrs.  Qualy  or 
Irvino-  Wiles's  "A  Quiet  Corner"  there  is  manifest  a  finer  purpose 
and  a  more  complete  realization  of  their  art  than  in  the  not-to-be- 
criticized  Sargent .'' 

The  pictures  which  The  Craftsman  reproduces  to  illustrate  this 
article  are  "The  Plavmates,"  by  L.  F.  Emmet,  which  won  the  Thomas 
P.  Clark  prize;  "Horses"  and  "Melting  Snow,"  by  Daniel  Garber 
(the  former  winning  the  Hallgarten  prize),  and  "Sunset  Glow"  by 
Robert  Reid.  These  pictures  were  selected  not  as  the  greatest  work 
shown  at  the  Academy,  but  because  in  every  instance  of  a  certain 
rare  sincerity  in  the  presentation  of  the  subject.  The  picture  called 
"  Sunset  Glow  "  is  of  a  very  beautiful  woman,  beautiful  through  youth, 
freshness,  kindness  and  a  suggestion  of  rare  serenity;  perhaps  for 
other  things,  too,  but  these  are  manifestly  in  the  portrait,  if  it  is  such. 
Or  it  is  just  the  woman  one  hopes  to  have  the  chance  sometime  to 
fall  in  love  with  ?  In  the  past  few  years  a  change  has  come  over  Robert 
Reid's  work.  There  is  a  certain  tenderness  of  technique,  a  kind 
of  pale  violet  spirituality  in  both  figure  and  landscape  work,  and 
through  it  he  achieves  that  quality  which  in  people  we  would  call 
charm, — a  rare  and  lovely  thing  in  woman  or  art. 


I 


OUTDOOR  FRIENDS 

do   not   have  to  change  my  clothes, — or  hide   the  way  I  feel,- 
Nor  sit  in  proper  pose  as  stiff  as  any  jointed  doll 
With  hands  and  feet  just  so  and  wound-up  things    to  say, 
When  I  decide  to  go  to  call  on  outdoor  fnends. 

AlLBEN    C.    HiGGINS. 


182 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ECONOMIC  GAIN 
THROUGH  DRY  FARMING  IN  OUR  ARID  RE- 
GIONS:  BY  A.  S.  ATKINSON 

HILE  vast  sums  have  been  invested  in  the  construc- 
tion of  large  irrigation  dams  and  canals  for  reclaiming 
the  arid  regions  of  the  West  from  their  infertile  dry- 
ness, a  new  art  of  farming  the  desert  acres  has  come 
into  vogue  that  is  little  short  of  a  revolution  of  past 
conditions.  This  new  system  of  agriculture  is  spoken 
of  as  "dry  farming,"  and  its  application  to  the  daz- 
zling stretches  of  white  sandy  desert  of  the  West,  overhung  at  times 
with  its  alkali  dust,  has  already  redeemed  thousands  of  worthless 
acres  from  utter  waste.  Dry  farming  is  the  development  of  a  scien- 
tific principle  so  simple  that  it  can  be  stated  in  a  few  words.  It  is  the 
art  or  science  of  conser\'ing  every  particle  of  moisture  in  the  soil  by 
means  of  intensive  cultivation  and  preventing  evaporation  by  con- 
tinuous tilling  of  the  land. 

Twenty  years  ago,  when  the  pioneer  dry  farmer  of  America  tried 
to  demonstrate  the  correctness  of  this  principle  in  Nebraska,  he  re- 
ceived as  little  encouragement  as  most  prophets  do  in  their  own 
country.  H.  W.  Campbell  of  Lincoln,  Nebraska,  was  a  practical 
farmer  and  a  man  of  some  scientific  attainments.  He  preached  and 
practiced  the  theory  that  by  cultivating  the  top  and  subsoil  of  the 
alkali  deserts  continually  every  part  of  the  moisture  falling  on  the 
land  could  be  held  in  the  soil  for  plant  use,  and  if  surface  cultivation 
was  continued  the  year  round  the  desert  could  literally  be  clothed 
with  plants  and  flowers.  He  took  up  many  plots  of  ground  in  the 
desert  and  demonstrated  his  theories.  A  few  others,  who  were 
convinced  by  his  achievements  rather  than  by  his  words,  followed, 
and  wheat,  corn,  alfalfa,  barley,  grasses  and  fruits  sprang  up  on  the 
desert  where  before  flourished  only  the  yucca,  greasewood  and  sage 
brush. 

How  these  farms  scattered  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  and  some- 
times in  the  very  heart  of  it,  could  manage  to  live  and  flourish  was  a 
mystery  to  many  Eastern  A-isitors,  and  even  Western  farmers  were 
impressed  by  the  magic.  A  few  years  ago  the  Department  of  Agri- 
culture was  duly  impressed  by  the  achievements  of  dry  farming, 
and  the  matter  was  taken  up  for  practical  experiment.  Now  that 
the  approval  of  the  plan  has  been  officially  promulgated,  dry  farming 
is  having  a  remarkable  boom  and  within  a  decade  it  will  have  a  tremen- 
dous influence  upon  our  crop  production. 

The  active  piooieer  dry  farmers  worked  with  simple  and  crude 
tools,  and  their  achievements  are  the  more  remarkable  for  it.     The 

183 


NATIONAL  RICHES    FROM   DRY  FARMING 

modern  dry  farmer  has  special  tools  and  machines  made  for  him, 
and  the  work  is  greatly  simplified.  It  has  furthermore  been  scien- 
tifically demonstrated  in  the  last  few  years  that  crops  can  be  raised 
on  land  where  the  average  rainfall  is  only  ten  inches,  and  as  the  aver- 
age precipitation  in  the  foothills  of  the  Rockies  is  about  fourteen  and 
nmety-three  hundredths,  the  arid  region  is  not  really  irreclaimable. 
But  of  this  the  pioneers  knew  nothing. 

THE  present  method  of  dry  farming  is  to  plow  the  land  a  year 
before  any  crops  are  planted.  The  soil  is  broken  to  a  con- 
siderable depth.  Disk  subsoil  plows  break  the  soil  and  pack 
it  into  a  firm  bed,  lea\ing  a  sort  of  hard-pan  through  which  water 
cannot  seep  away.  Moreover,  this  well-packed  subsoil  pi'events  the 
excessive  salts  that  lie  four  or  five  feet  below  the  surface  from  rising 
by  evaporation.  These  salts  have  been  the  agencies  for  burning 
and  blighting  all  vegetation.  The  surface  soil  is  then  pulverized 
and  cultivated  until  it  is  as  fine  as  powder.  This  acts  as  a  mulch 
so  that  when  the  snows  and  rains  of  the  wet  season  fall  they  are  held 
there  by  the  finely  pulverized  mulch.  The  moisture  cannot  leak 
through  the  hard-pan,  and  the  secret  of  the  system  then  is  to  prevent 
its  evaporation. 

The  principle  is  to  work  and  till  the  surface  soil  continually 
so  that  liive  a  wet  sponge  it  can  hold  the  moisture.  The  work  never 
stops  on  the  land,  and  after  every  rain  the  surface  soil  must  be  pul- 
verized anew.  For  a  year  the  land  is  treated  by  this  endless  process 
of  cultivation  which  always  keeps  the  surface  soil  moist  and  soft. 
Then  comes  the  seeding  and  more  cultivation  until  the  plants  occupy  the 
land.  The  cultivation  must  continue  until  the  plants  are  large  enough  to 
act  as  their  own  mulch.  In  the  harvest  season,  the  crops  are  gar- 
nered, and  immediately  the  plow  and  harrow  are  put  in  the  field  again 
to  prepare  the  land  for  the  next  season's  crop.  It  is  then  allowed 
to  lie  fallow  until  seeding  time. 

This  is  the  method  pursued  by  the  dry  farmers,  and  under  old 
conditions  it  was  discouraging  work;  but  there  have  been  developed 
for  the  arid  regions  giant  machines  which  make  dry  farming  no  more 
expensive  than  ordinary  farming.  Engines  of  thirty-two  horse- 
power cross  the  desert,  dragging  behind  them  twelve  fourteen-inch 
plows,  iron  rollers,  clod  breakers,  harrows  and  pulverizers.  These 
are  followed  in  the  planting  season  by  drillers  and  seed  spreaders. 
Through  such  methods  thirty-five  acres  of  land  can  be  plowed,  tilled 
and  planted  at  an  average  cost  of  ninety  cents  an  acre.  Under  the 
early  system  of  culture  by  the  pioneer  dry  farmers  the  cost  was  at 
least  five  dollars  per  acre. 

184 


NATIONAL  RICHES   FROM  DRY  FARMING 

So  much  for  the  use  of  improved  machinery  to  make  dry  farming 
in  the  arid  region  successful.  A  further  saving  is  effected  by  the 
use  of  seed.  On  land  that  has  been  continuously  cultivated  to  re- 
tain every  particle  of  moisture  twelve  quarts  of  seed  wheat  go  as  far 
toward  a  maximum  crop  production  as  thirty  or  forty  quarts  in  the 
ordinary  wheat  belt.  The  difference  is  due  to  the  method  of  cul- 
tivation whereby  the  soil  is  pulverized  so  that  nearly  every  grain  of 
seed  finds  fertile  lodgment.  It  is  difficult  for  the  farmers  of  the 
older  agricultural  fields  to  appreciate  the  value  of  fine  culture  until 
presented  with  some  concrete  illustration  such  as  this. 

WHEN  the  Department  of  Agriculture  took  up  the  study  of 
dry  farming  in  the  arid  region  experts  were  sent  to  Russia 
to  investigate  the  wheat  fields  near  the  Sea  of  Azov.  In  this 
great  dry  region  conditions  are  almost  the  same  as  in  the  new  wheat 
fields  of  the  arid  West.  The  amount  of  rainfall  is  even  less  on  the 
average,  and  the  soil  is  of  the  same  sandy  nature.  Yet  for  centuries 
flourishing  wheat  fields  have  been  harvested  in  this  Russian  province. 
But  it  is  a  different  kind  of  wheat — the  durum  from  which  macaroni 
is  manufactured.  This  wheat  is  harder  than  our  American  variety, 
but  possesses  all  the  nourishing  qualities  for  food.  Upward  of 
two  million  five  hundred  thousand  pounds  of  durum  flour  for  the 
manufacture  of  macaroni  have  been  annually  imported  into  this 
country  for  decades  past,  and  the  demand  for  it  is  steadily  increasing. 
In  nineteen  hundred  and  one  the  Department  of  Agriculture  im- 
ported some  of  the  seeds  of  durum  wheat  and  raised  the  first  crop 
near  El  Paso,  Texas,  selecting  dry  lands  for  the  experiment,  with 
improved  dry  farming  culture.  In  the  first  season  the  yield  proved 
over  forty-seven  bushels  to  the  acre.  Since  then  the  grain  has  been 
raised  in  many  parts  of  the  arid  West,  and  today  the  crop  is  an  im- 
portant part  of  our  wheat  output.  Last  year  the  total  yield  in  this 
country  of  durum  wheat  reached  the  enormous  total  of  thirty  million 
bushels.  Nearly  all  this  wheat  was  raised  on  the  dry  lands  where 
the  ordinary  grain  has  never  flourished.  So  important  is  the  durum 
wheat  culture  becoming  that  millers  who  at  first  objected  to  grinding 
it  on  account  of  its  greater  hardness  are  installing  new  and  heavier 
machinery.  In  the  past  year  a  dozen  large  mills  have  been  equipped 
with  special  grinding  machinery  for  handling  the  new  wheat  product 
of  the  arid  regions.  Within  a  few  years  dry  farming  in  parts  of  the 
West  has  thus  wiped  out  the  importations  of  a  manufactured  product 
and  made  a  new  market  for  a  very  important  food  stuff.  Manu- 
facturers have  converted  the  durum  wheat  into  a  variety  of  break- 
fast foods  and  its  use  is  becoming  a  factor  in  our  economic  life. 

185 


NATIONAL  RICHES   FROM   DRY   FARMING 

The  vastness  of  this  new  industry  may  be  appreciated  from  a 
study  of  the  wide  region  of  barren  lands  in  the  West  which  is  sus- 
ceptible of  cultivation  by  the  new  system  of  farming.  The  great 
strip  of  country  commonly  known  as  arid  America  stretches  from 
the  Canadian  border  on  the  north  to  the  Rio  Grande  on  the  south. 
It  includes  nearly  all  of  those  foothills  of  the  Rockies  which  are 
made  desolate  by  "the  dryness  of  the  soil  and  climate  and  by  the  pecu- 
liar salty  nature  of  the  earth.  Great  storms  of  alkali  dust  sweep 
over  portions  of  it  and  the  salts  of  the  subsoil  work  up  and  burn 
all  vegetation.  Farming  in  the  past  in  this  great  region  has  proved 
disastrous.  For  half  a  century  back  thousands  of  homeseekers  have 
lost  all  their  possessions  in  trying  to  raise  crops  from  this  uncon- 
genial soil. 

The  arid  regions  are  some  twelve  hundred  miles  in  length  and 
from  one  thousand  to  thirteen  hundred  miles  in  width.  In  this  empire 
there  are  some  six  hundred  million  acres  of  public  lands.  At  least 
seventv  million  acres  of  the  country  are  desert  land  and  have  been 
pronounced  as  entirely  worthless.  On  the  edge  of  tliis  desert  the 
Government  has  constructed  at  great  expense  enormous  irrigation 
plants,  and  by  turning  the  water  into  artificial  canals  thousands  of 
acres  have  been  reclaimed.  But  to  reclaim  all  of  this  arid  region  by 
irrigation  would  mean  the  expenditure  of  billions  of  dollars.  Owing 
to  their  great  distance  from  any  water  course,  some  of  the  sections 
could  not  be  cultivated  at  all,  and  irrigation  would  prove  too  ex- 
pensive an  operation  even  for  the  national  Government.  Unbroken 
stretches  of  alkali  dust  meet  the  eyes  of  the  traveler  crossing  this 
barren  region,  and  the  whole  place  is  shunned  almost  as  though  a 
pestilence  raged  there. 

THE  dry  farming  movement  proposes  to  convert  this  desert  into 
a  blooming  garden,  not  by  means  of  expensive  water  storage 
reservoirs,  but  by  taking  advantage  of  simple  laws  of  Nature. 
The  possibilities  of  the  region  are  thus  almost  beyond  belief.  It  has 
been  demonstrated  that  forty  acres  of  this  dry  land  properly  culti- 
vated will  support  a  family  of  from  three  to  five.  At  this  rate  it  is 
estimated  that  the  dry  regions  alone  could  support  a  population  of 
upward  of  thirty-tive  million  people. 

Irrigation  has  had  its  fruitful  results  and  has  converted  large 
sections  into  splendid  farming  land,  and  its  benefits  must  continue 
to  spread;  but  more  practical  and  profitable  is  the  reclamatioii  of  land 
by  simple,  scientific  farming  that  makes  Nature  do  the  work  of 
storing  and  holding  the  water  for  crop  production.  The  dry  farmers 
have  already  demonstrated  that  it  is  possible  to  raise  from  thirty-five 

i86 


NATIONAL  RICHES  FROM  DRY  FARINHNG 

to  fifty-five  bushels  of  wheat  per  acre  from  this  dry  soil.  Against 
this  we  have  the  average  of  twenty  bushels  from  older  sections  of  the 
wheat  belt.  In  nineteen  hundred  and  five  the  average  wheat  yield 
of  the  Kansas  crop  was  less  than  thirteen  bushels  to  the  acre.  The 
increased  yield  in  the  arid  region  is  due  partly  to  the  superior  inten- 
sive culture  which  is  essential  to  any  kind  of  a  crop.  In  combating 
the  natural  dry  conditions  of  soil  and  climate,  the  dry  farmers  are 
thus  giving  to  the  wheat  just  the  conditions  of  tillage  that  make  it 
thrive  and  produce  abundantly. 

Throughout  many  parts  of  the  West  the  dry  farming  propaganda 
is  going  on  under  the  cooperation  of  individuals,  societies.  State 
experiment  stations  and  experts  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture. 
The  Campbell  Dry  Farming  Association  of  Denver,  named  after  the 
pioneer  in  this  new  industry,  has  carried  on  a  campaign  of  education 
among  farmers  in  cooperation  with  the  State  Agricultural  College. 
In  nineteen  hundred  and  five  the  Eastern  Colorado  Fair  Association 
made  a  remarkable  display  of  the  finest  wheat  and  grass  grown  in  the 
desert  without  irrigation.  Some  of  the  wheat  stalks  and  grain  were 
the  largest  ever  exhibited  at  any  fair.  At  the  Pomeroy  Model  Farm, 
at  Hill  City,  in  western  Kansas,  the  eflficient  value  and  success  of  dry 
farming  has  been  demonstrated  to  perfection,  and  at  the  Fort  Hays 
agricultural  station,  a  sub-station  of  the  Kansas  State  Agricultural 
College,  it  has  been  repeatedly  proved  in  a  practical  way  that 
four  cuts  or  crops  of  alfalfa  can  be  raised  from  the  same  acre  by  dry 
farming  on  poor  arid  soil.  At  the  experiment  station  in  Sedgwick 
County,  Colorado,  a  yield  has  been  ootained  of  thirty-five  bushels 
of  wheat  per  acre,  or  fifty  of  corn,  or  two  hundred  of  potatoes,  thirty 
of  rye,  sixty-five  of  oats,  or  five  tons  of  cane  for  forage. 

It  would  be  possible  to  mention  many  more  such  achievements 
by  the  dry  farmers.  Farming  associations,  such  as  the  Scientific 
Farming  Association  of  Bennett,  Colorado,  and  the  Young  Men's 
Club  of  Cheyenne,  have  taken  up  the  matter  of  instructing  young 
men  in  the  new  system  of  agriculture  and  spreading  broadcast  infor- 
mation about  the  possibilities  of  the  arid  region.  The  Business 
Men's  Association  of  Limon  and  Julesberg  have  associated  them- 
selves with  the  experts  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture  to  carry 
on  the  work  in  a  scientific  and  busmesslike  way.  The  result  of  this 
whole  campaign  must  mean  a  tremendous  difference  in  the  future  of 
a  region  equal  to  nearly  one-third  of  the  United  States. 


187 


THE  WOOD  CARVING  OF  SWITZERLAND, 
WHERE  THE  LIFE  OF  THE  PEOPLE  IS  RE- 
PRODUCED IN  THE  ART  OF  THE  NATION: 
BY  ROBERT  C.  AULD 

IN  THE  very  midst  of  the  Swiss  Alps  is  found  an  in- 
digenous art-craft — that  of  wood  car\'in]^.  Along  the 
shores  of  the  Lake  Brienz  and  scattered  between  the 
two  principal  centers  of  the  industry — Brienz  and 
Meiringen — are  huts,  clinging  to  the  side  of  the 
Rothorn  and  the  neighboring  hills  and  cottages 
nestling  in  the  valleys;  these  are  the  picturesque  homes 
of  the  wood  workers  or  the  little  town  of  Brienz,  with  its  school  for  the 
many  artists  in  this  craft. 

Four  months  of  snow — such  brilliant  snow  as  is  known  nowhere 
else — keep  the  natives  close  to  their  homes  for  a  certain  part  of  the 
year,  while  the  brief  summertime  enables  them  to  cultivate  their 
garden  spots  or  till  the  then  responsive  patches  of  soil  wrung  from 
Nature's  grij).  In  summer  the  herds  are  sent  to  the  Alpine  pastures, 
and  there  between  turns  at  milking,  herding  and  dairying  the  herders 
snatch  a  precious  moment  now  and  then  to  shape  things  out  of  likely 
pieces  of  wood,  which,  begun  with  enthusiasm,  may  be  laid  aside 
until  the  coming  of  the  winter  gives  time  to  materialize  the  ideal  em- 
bodied in  them.  These  pieces  of  wood  that  in  their  making  may 
have  expressed  an  individual  joy,  or  perchance  a  family  sadness,  go 
to  swell  the  stock  of  Swiss  wood  car\4ng  that  finds  its  way  abroad. 
For  the  lusty  herdsmen  have  hands  of  greater  or  less  deftness.  Some 
have,  besides,  heads  for  the  things  they  think  about.  The  thoughts 
they  get  of  the  everyday  life  about  them  secure  a  lodgment  in  their 
brains.  One  thought  may  be  of  a  pet  lamb,  whose  life  has  been 
saved  by  the  liillside  herder  who  watches  its  increasing  grace  and 
beauty,  which  eventually  evolves,  in  the  mind  to  which  it  is  endeared, 
into  an  inspiration  for  his  art.  So  it  may  be  with  other  things;  and 
then  the  shaping  steel  begins  to  give  reproductive  expression  to  those 
objects  graven  on  the  mind,  and  thus  what  has  been  seen  and  felt 
and  lived  becomes  embodied  in  concrete  form.  The  shapeless  wood 
is  carved  into  a  symbol  of  the  mountain  pet,  its  life  and  grace. 

Thus  the  life  about  these  artists  in  wood  becomes'more  and  more 
the  source  of  their  inspiration,  and  thoughts  of  their  own  existence — 
of  their  own  people — take  possession  of  their  minds,  to  the  exclusion 
of  other  inspiration,  more  remote  and  artificial.  The  mind  treas- 
ures the  forms  and  poses  and  lineaments  of  companions  and  mates: 
these  are  studied  intimately  till  the  sculptor  is  able  to  pour  forth  hi* 
soul  into  his  work. 

188 


"  at 


Z   O 


is 

5  < 


z  r 


2  3 


WOOD  CARVING  WHICH  SHOWS  THE  LIFE  OF  A  NATION 

Wood  as  a  medium  of  plastic  expression  has  had  an  intermittent 
popularity  and  been  most  in  favor  among  the  people  of  the  more 
simple  modes  of  life.  This  being  true,  the  craft  has  been  ac- 
cepted by  the  village  folk  where  it  thrived  as  something  too  genuine 
and  intimate  to  be  much  discussed,  or  heralded  abroad,  and  so,  even 
the  best  examples  of  ancient  or  modern  wood  sculpture  have  not 
been  much  exliibited  or  often  sent  far  from  the  cottage  or  liillside 
where  they  were  created.  And  yet  it  has  been  an  art  of  the  primitive 
folk  from  time  immemorial.  It  is  nothing  new  for  us  to  carve  the 
face  and  form  of  friends  in  woods  from  adjacent  forests.  It  is  just 
returning  to  a  medium  of  expression  of  long  ago  days,  even  to  the 
earliest  car\ang,  the  effort  to  depict  human  beings  in  the  quaint 
wood  and  stone  dolls,  memorials  of  the  vanished  races. 

Today  we  are  progressive,  though  not  wholly  original,  in  that  we 
express  in  wood  the  highest  ideals'of  the  folk  life  in  which  the  charms 
of  domesticity  and  nationality  are  being  faithfully  embodied.  In 
many  of  the  examples,  some  of  which  are  represented  in  this  article, 
the  expression  even  reaches  the  idyllic. 

The  home  land  of  the  S^iss  wood  carvers  lacks  in  natural  fertility, 
and  those  dependent  upon  its  soil  have  a  hard  life  indeed.  They 
have  wrestled  with  Nature  and  come  face  to  face  with  her  unyielding 
sternness,  yet  realizing,  as  they  gazed,  the  blessed  opportunity  vouch- 
safed them.  For  they  have  developed  their  wood  craft  by  necessity, 
achieving  art  through  sincerity  and  honesty,  and,  with  the  slow  gain 
of  their  handicraft,  they  have  developed  as  a  people  and  become  rich 
in  their  modest  way.  At  present  the  industry  is  fostered  by  the  Fed- 
eral Government,  and  is,  moreover,  a  recognized  form  of  expression 
in  the  life  of  the  Oberland.  Love  and  necessity  have  opened  a  way 
to  express  a  kind  of  genius  the  manifestation  of  which  is  more  personal 
to  this  part  of  the  country  than  elsewhere.  The  artistry  of  Nature 
has  here  been  lavishly  bestowed,  and  amid  its  surroundings  of  inspired 
beauty  the  masters  of  this  art  have  lived  and  worked.  The  Binders, 
for  instance,  had  an  established  fame  in  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty- 
five,  and  the  present  Karl  Binder  exhibits  his  work  annually  in  the 
Salon.  True  to  his  instincts  and  insight,  he  shows  a  rare  faculty 
of  handling  the  plastic  wood,  preserving  the  identity  of  his  models 
throughout. 

In  the  first  illustration  of  his,  "A  National  Dance,"  a  keynote  of 
genuineness  is  struck.  Song  and  dance  are  the  natural  forms  for 
]oyous  expression  with  the  Switzer,  as  with  all  simple  races.  When 
the  limbs  are  supple  and  the  heart  is  warm  and  tne  body  becomes 
attuned  to  the  rhythmic  impulse  that  pervades  life  and  being,  the 
national  dance  is  the  inevitable  result.     The  peasant  dance  depicted 

'93 


WOOD  CARVING  WHICH  SHOWS  THE  LIFE  OF  A  NATION 

in  wood  embodies  character  as  well  as  charm,  portraying  as  it  does 
in  the  expression  of  the  dancers  and  onlookers  those  sentiments  of 
primitive  joyousness  as  enticing  to  the  eye  as  they  are  sometimes 
difficult  to  reproduce.  In  the  Swiss  wood  carving  is  mirrored  the 
real  gaiety  of  the  peasant  world.  At  the  first  glance  the  male  figure 
appears  to  us  rather  awkward,  but  evidently  not  so  to  the  eyes  of  the 
lithe,  straight,  little  dancing  maid,  who,  arrayed  in  the  distinctive 
costume  of  her  canton,  wans  the  admiring  gaze  of  friendly  spectators. 
The  music  is  supplied  by  the  hackbutt,  or  Swiss  zither,  and  accom- 
panied by  the  yodelings  of  the  company.  Everytliing  is  orderly, 
as  is  further  emphasized  by  the  absorption  of  the  good  mfe  of  the 
house,  busy  in  the  far  corner.  The  light,  tripping  steps  of  the  maiden 
and  eccentric  movements  of  her  partner  are  eWdently  accompanied 
by  the  heel-thumpings  of  the  onlookers,  whose  natural  spirits  are 
heightened  by  the  simple  hilarity  in  which  they  share. 

The  next  folk  scene  is  "A  Betrothal  Festival,"  which  depicts  a 
quaint  ceremony  still  religiously  observed.  In  some  of  the  villages 
of  Berne  the  younger  male  members  of  the  community  form  them- 
selves into  what  are  caWeA  Kiltgangs,  vigilance  associations  designed 
to  protect  desirable  prospective  brides  from  the  lures  of  strange 
admirers.     The   swains   belonging  to  these  organizations   have  the 

Erivilege  of  visiting  the  maidens  of  their  choice,  strenuous  opposition 
eing  made  to  the  presence  of  outsiders.  The  scene  represented  by 
the  sculptor  shows  the  result  of  one  of  these  wooings,  the  event  taking 
place  at  the  village  inn,  where  the  musicians  are  already  tuning  up 
and  good  cheer  is  being  dispensed.  The  rather  bashful  swain,  with 
make-believe  indifference,  admiringly  observes  the  gallant  reception 
his  bride  receives  from  congratulatory  and  unjealous  companions. 
The  native  joyousness  of  the  men  and  the  maids  is  enchanting.  In 
the  carving  called  "Returning  from  the  Hunt"  we  might  believe  we 
were  again  meeting  members  of  the  same  family. 

The  fourth  picture  is  particularly  interesting:  the  posing  of  the 
figures  being  a  revelation  of  the  possibilities  of  wood  art.  It  presents 
an  incident  connected  viith  a  local  organization,  which  the  title,  "A 
Promising  Candidate  for  the  Carbineers,"  indicates.  The  charm  of 
these  specimens  of  art  lies  in  their  remarkably  free  and  vivid  presen- 
tation of  folk  life,  in  which  not  only  episodes  of  family  life  but  of 
national  interests  are  portrayed  wdth  results  that  are  singularly 
pleasing  and  convincing.  The  actual  life  in  the  Alps  is  reflected 
and  depicted  with  great  skill  and  grasp  of  intimate  detail.  A  craft 
that  has  been  so  lo\ingly  and  conscientiously  developed  amid  an  en- 
\aronment  of  not  a  few  hardships  furnishes  reason  for  great  interest 
and  pride  in  the  art  quality  of  the  achievement. 

194 


THE  BOY  ON  THE  FARM  :  AND  LIFE  AS  HE 
SEES  IT  :  BY  SIDNEY  MORSE 

Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies; — 

Hold  you  here,  root  and  all  in  my  hand. 

Little  flower — if  I  could  understand 

What  you  are,  root  and  all  and  all  in  all, 

I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. — Tennyson. 

XE  day  in  early  spring,  years  ago.  I  remember  trudging 
along  a  cart  path  behind  a  hea%aly  loaded  farm  wagon. 
The  way  led  through  a  patch  of  woodland  that  nad 
been  recently  cut  off.  The  season  was  yet  too  young 
for  the  advancing  foliage  to  hide  the  ugliness  of  rotting 
brush  piles,  newly  sprouting  stumps  and  scraggly 
underbrush.  All  about  lay  loose  stone  and  drift, — 
a  significant  reminder  of  some  bygone  glacier,  but  suggesting 
to  me  at  that  time  only  thoughts  of  sterility  and  hard,  unprofit- 
able labor.  Presently  a  loose  stone  in  one  of  the  ruts  caused  the 
farm  wagon  to  lurch  to  one  side  against  the  yielding  earth  which, 
crumbling  under  the  impact,  brought  down  a  miniature  landslide, 
and  with  it  a  cluster  of  wood  \-iolets.  It  was  early  morning  and  the 
dew  evaporating  from  their  petals  exhaled  a  subtle  perfume.  As  I 
plodded  along  after  the  creaking  wagon,  holding  in  the  hollow  of 
my  hand  the  tiny  plant  with  its  score  of  leaves,  its  dozen  blossoms 
and  its  tangle  of  rootlets  fresh  with  the  fragrance  of  the  soil,  it  filled 
for  the  moment  both  eye  and  mind.  And  the  natural  loveliness  of  the 
violets  bred  in  my  bovish  mind  a  keen  perception  of  ideal  beauty. 
The  famiHar  lines' of  Tennyson,  "Little  flower,  if  I  could  understand 
what  you  are  *  *  *  *  I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is," 
came  into  my  mind  and  set  me  musing.  What  did  the  poet  mean 
by  that.-  To  know  "what  God  and  man  is," — is  that  possible.' 
Did  Tennyson  know  ?  How  did  he  find  out  ?  Clearly  the  flower  had 
not  told  him.  Could  I  ever  expect  to  learn  so  much  ?  Evidently 
not  from  the  little  cluster  of  violets.  Thus  they  served  in  the  end  only 
to  arouse  a  train  of  thoughts  and  longings  that  it  seemed  impossible 
for  me  to  satisfy. 

How  many  a  farm  boy  in  his  solitary  wanderings  through  woods 
and  fields  is  similarly  questioned  by  Nature,  and  stifles  a  heart  hunger 
to  get  at  the  meaning  of  the  things  he  sees,  but  cannot  rightly  under- 
stand! Where  is  there  one  who  has  not  inspected  an  outcropping 
ledge  of  rock  upon  a  hilltop  ^ith  perceptions  and  interest  keener,  in 
their  way,  than  those  of  the  most  highly  trained  scientific  observer, 
but  with  a  half-unconscious  sense  of  baffling  mystery  ?  Every  boy 
must  have  denuded  the  rocks  of  their  great  clinging  sheets  of  moss 
and  lichen  and  noted  the  patch  of  black  soil,  crumbling  sand  and 

195 


THE   BOY  ON   THE   FARM 

rough  gravel  beneath  its  surface.  How  came  they  here  ?  How  does 
the  plant  sustain  its  existence  upon  the  side  of  the  barren  stone? 
Every  boy  must  have  noticed  after  the  summer  showers  the  little 

fools  of  water  that  remain  in  depressions  upon  the  surface  of  the  rock, 
n  winter  the  snows  gather  and  alternately  thaw  and  freeze.  Year 
by  year  a  little  soil  accumulates.  Presently  a  few  weeds,  wild  flowers 
and  native  grasses  grow.  In  after  times,  the  depression  is  covered 
with  a  rank-growing  patch  of  turf.  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  "i 
A  boy  seats  himself  upon  a  projecting  boulder  of  sandstone,  con- 
glomerate or  mica  schist  and  idly  crumbles  portions  of  the  stone 
between  his  hands.  Crevices  yawn  here  and  there  from  which  wild 
flowers  and  underbrush  sprout  forth.  The  boy  pulls  a  root  of  sassa- 
fras from  its  bed  and  observes  that  portions  of  the  rock  come  with  it, 
and  about  them  the  plant  roots  are  curiously  entwined.  Large 
fragments  of  broken  stone,  disintegrated  by  frosts,  lie  at  his  feet. 
His  eye  traveling  down  the  plowed  land  on  the  liillside,  perceives 
that  the  larger  fragments  are  most  numerous  upon  the  upper  half 
of  the  slope,  and  that  the  soil  of  the  flats  just  here  is  finer  and  free 
from  pebbles.  But  yonder  the  flats  are  stony.  The  spirit  of  in- 
quiry is  aroused,  is  puzzled,  and  falls  to  sleep  again.  Cattle  are 
grazing  in  the  pasture  lands.  Birds  in  the  groves  and  thickets  are 
mating,  nesting  and  rearing  their  young.  Crops  are  planted,  cul- 
tivated, harvested  and  stored  in  barns  and  cellars,  or  dispatched 
to  market.  Farm  animals  are  bred,  tended,  slaughtered  and  sold  or 
cured  for  human  food.  Meanwliile  at  home  and  in  the  neighboring 
farmhouses,  the  round  of  human  life  and  the  satisfaction  of  human 
wants  in  the  simplest  and  most  direct  fashion  is  daily  and  yearly 
going  on.  The  farm  boy  is  close  to  Nature,  and  as  the  dawn  of 
adolescence  approaches,  the  mystery  of  life  within  and  about  him 
knocks  at  the  gates  of  consciousness  with  a  summons  that  will  not  be 
denied.  The  spirit  of  inquiry  grows  until  curiosity  becomes  a  power 
that  is  all  but  suffocating  in  its  intensity.  But  the  interpretation  of 
the  meaning  of  life  and  of  sex  is  withheld.  There  is  something  want- 
ing; the  boy  is  hardly  conscious  what.  Perhaps  it  is  something 
that  only  the  outer  world  can  give. 

THE  farm  boy  even  in  summer  has  many  hours  of  idleness,  occur- 
ring, it  may  be,  from  weariness,  from  idleness,  from  stormy 
weather,  on  Sundays  and  on  holidays.  The  winter  season 
approaches.  The  life  of  the  farm  seems  bound  up  like  the  frozen 
streams.  The  days  are  a  monotonous  round  of  rising  and  dressing, 
of  breakfast,  chores,  idleness,  dinner,  more  idleness,  chores,  supper, 
and  to  bed  again.     Little  more,  the  farm  boy  feels,  than  eating  and 

196 


THE   BOY  ON  THE   FARM 

sleeping,  with  all  the  world  to  conquer  and  the  mystery  of  God  and 
man  still  to  solve. 

Evidently,  so  the  farm  boy  concludes,  the  life  of  the  farm  is  in- 
complete. It  does  not  afford  a  key  to  the  solution  of  this  mystery. 
Perhaps  the  \'illage,  with  its  little  group  of  more  cultured,  better 
educated  and  hence  doubtless  wiser  men  and  women,  will  be  found 
to  have  a  larger  meaning.  The  boy  seeks  employment  in  the  local 
store  or  factory.  Not  only  are  his  associates  no  wiser;  not  only  are 
they  baffled  like  himself  by  the  mystery  of  life,  but  they  suggest  half- 
truths,  false  and  partial  meanings.  And  curiously  enough,  the  boy 
finds  himself  shut  off  from  contact  with  the  few  whom  he  imagines 
to  be  wdser  than  himself.  The  law  of  caste  enters  in.  The  boy  who 
is  well-read  in  the  poets  and  has  mused  deeply  over  the  mystery  of 
life  finds  himself  unwelcome  in  circles  where  such  things  are  supposed 
to  be  understood,  because  of  the  clothes  that  he  wears  and  the  man- 
ners that  he  lacks.  Evidently,  he  concludes,  one  must  conquer 
these  things.  The  path  lies  still  abroad  and  the  watchword  is  higher 
education.  To  these  ends  money  must  be  had,  and  to  have  money 
one  must  abandon  the  farm  for  the  paths  of  business  and  money- 
making  ways.  If  one  fails,  then  maybe  the  farm,  with  its  narrow 
round  of  labor  and  of  common  things  which  bring  a  man  so  close 
to  the  mystery  of  life  without  affording  its  solution,  may  serve  as  an 
asylum  of  retreat.  But  the  boy  does  not  mean  to  fail.  The  ways 
of  business  are  harder  than  he  had  supposed.  It  turns  out  that  some 
men  are  unfair,  even  hypocritical,  and  a  boy  is  expected,  at  all  hazards, 
to  further  his  employer's  interests;  that  to  lie,  to  cheat  and  to  deceive 
are  condoned  if  done  skilfully  in  an  employer's  service.  The  boy 
learns  to  stifle  conscience  and  to  harden  the  heart.  He  prospers, 
gets  money, — perhaps  gets  education.  The  life  of  the  village  be- 
comes as  narrow  to  him  as  the  life  of  the  farm.  He  moves  to  the 
nearest  town,  to  a  provincial  city,  to  the  metropolis.  The  same 
human  wants  that  he  first  learned  how  to  satisfy  on  the  farm  persist, 
though  the  forms  and  agencies  for  their  satisfaction  have  oecome 
so  complicated  as  to  almost  choke  the  springs  of  natural  desire.  Once 
hunger  prompted  appetite  and  a  simple  meal  was  a  feast.  The  sweat 
of  hard  labor  prompted  thirst,  and  the  tin  cup  of  cold  water  was  like 
the  fabled  nectar  of  the  gods.  The  elaborate  machinery  of  a  banquet 
of  a  dozen  courses  provokes  no  such  appetite  and  yields  only  the 
pains  of  indigestion.  Wines  and  liquors  arouse  no  similar  thirst 
and  afford  no  faintest  trace  of  similar  satisfaction.  The  farm  boy, 
lulled  to  sleep  by  the  "peepers"  in  neighboring  meadows,  wakened 
by  the  rising  sun  and  the  song  of  the  birds,  slept  peacefully,  though 
his  bed  was  but  a  tick  of  meadow  hay  upon  an  old-fashioned  cord 

197 


THE  BOY   ON   THE   FARM 

bedstead  in  an  attic.  The  successful  man  of  affairs  gets  little  relief 
from  the  weight  and  tension  of  his  complicated  business,  social, 
political  or  other  interests.  His  exhaustion  brings  no  natural  weari- 
ness, and  his  nights  no  refreshing  sleep. 

HUMAN  life,  the  simplest  elements  of  which  he  pondered  as  a 
boy,  is  now  wTit  large  before  him.  The  stars  are  no  longer 
a  nightly  mystery  but  related  to  the  science  of  navigation.  The 
moon  no  longer  radiates  the  glamour  of  romance.  It  controls  the  tides 
and  affects  the  interests  of  shipping,  the  coming  and  going  of  yachts, 
steamships  and  merchandise.  The  daily  aspects  of  the  weather  and  of 
the  changing  seasons  occur  to  him  in  terms  of  crop  reports  covering 
vast  areas  of  wheat  or  corn  at  home  and  abroad.  The  disintegration  of 
the  rocks  suggests  the  activities  of  mines  in  terms  of  the  world's  produc- 
tion of  the  metals,  of  coal  and  like  commodities.  The  farm  crops  and  the 
breeding  of  farm  animals  now  stand  for  agriculture,  the  feeding  of 
populations  and  the  transportation,  manufacture  and  distribution  of 
food  products,  whereof  an  abundance  spells  increase  of  luxury,  and  a 
scarcity  possible  ruin  of  far-reaching  schemes.  The  daily  round 
of  the  life  of  a  farmer's  family  has  become  an  alphabet  of  which  the 
cliief  utility  is  the  interpretation  of  the  grammar  of  economics,  and 
the  literature  of  politics  and  of  trade. 

How  many  a  farm  boy,  now  grown  up,  and  may  be  gro^dng 
old  in  the  business  mechanism  which  contemplates  the  luxuries  and 
superfluities  of  life,  recalls  wistfully  the  farm  life  of  his  boyhood 
and  wonders  whether,  after  all,  it  might  not  have  been  possible  to 
acquire  in  that  environment  all  that  is  best  w^orth  having  of  human 
culture, — whether  his  "acres  of  diamonds"  were  not  to  be  found  rather 
at  the  beginning  than  at  the  end  of  his  search.  And  the  answer  is 
at  hand.  The  dawn  of  a  new  light  is  already  breaking  about  the 
daily  pathway  of  the  farmer's  boy.  The  tendency  of  present-day 
science  is  to  dignify  the  labor  of  production  whereby  Nature  cooper- 
ates with  man  in  the  satisfaction  of  his  normal  wants.  Is  there  no 
significance  in  the  fact  that  the  soil  is  now  treated  as  a  great  labora- 
tory in  which  the  secrets  of  Nature  can  best  be  studied  and  under- 
stood; that  the  culture  of  plants  and  the  breeding  of  domestic 
animals  are  regarded  as  throwing  light  upon  the  most  pregnant  as- 
pects of  the  great  central  problem  of  evolution;  that  the  beauty  of 
Nature  is  apprehended  as  never  before;  and  that  the  tide  is  setting 
from  centers  of  population  back  once  more  toward  the  suburban 
residence,  the  rural  home  and  the  summer  home  or  camp .' 

The  change  which  must  come  in  the  mental  attitude  of  the  farm- 
er's boy  and  girl,  momentous  and  significant  as  its    influence    will 

K,8 


THE   BOY   ON   THE  FARM 

be,  is  after  all  essentially  a  little  one.  What  is  needed  is  no  more 
than  a  kind  of  leadership  that  will  bring  to  the  farm  boy  insight  into 
the  essential  qualities  and  relations  that  afford  the  interpretation  of 
human  life.  That  the  stars  in  their  courses  hold  the  earth  in  its 
fixed  relation  to  the  sun  and  produce  the  phenomena  of  day  and  night 
and  of  the  changing  seasons;  that  these  affect  the  weather;  that  the 
moon  controls  the  tide;  that  the  disintegration  of  the  earth  by  natural 
forces  produces  the  soil;  that  water  runs  down  hill  and  carries  the 
fatness  of  the  earth  into  the  river  valleys;  that  the  soil  in  proportion 
to  its  fatness  produces  the  plant;  that  the  plant  feeds  the  animal,  and 
that  together  they  feed  men;  that  like  other  animals,  men  pair,  mate 
and  breed  children,  that  of  these  elements  the  round  of  daily  life 
is  made,  are  all  patent  things  to  the  farmer's  boy.  His  own  observa- 
tion, hearsay  and  the  district  school  afford  a  knowledge  of  these  facts, 
and  a  very  little  guidance  will  establish  for  him  their  relationship 
in  series  to  one  another  and  himself.  But  that  the  family  and  rural 
neighborhood  is  an  epitome  of  human  society  and  all  natural  beauty 
a  revelation  of  the  Di\'ine — hence  that  all  of  life  is  here,  and  every 
normal  satisfaction  of  human  wants  at  their  simplest  and  their  best, 
is  a  lesson  which  the  farmer's  boy  is  not  taught.  That  the  round  of 
the  daily  life  and  processes  of  the  farm  through  the  seasons  give 
direct  perception  of  an  alphabet  in  which  all  life  and  all  literature, 
if  it  be  real,  must  be  written;  that  these  facts  linked  in  due  relation 
afford  the  one  possible  interpretation  of  life;  that  to  face  them  frankly 
and  directly  in  the  close  embrace  of  physical  labor  is  the  true  way 
to  their  solution;  that  the  abundant  leisure  of  farm  life  can,  by  the 
use  of  present-day  scientific  methods,  be  made  more  abundant; 
that  these  hours  of  leisure  which  no  other  normal  human  occupation 
can  afford  may  suffice  for  the  mastery  and  comprehension  of  the 
total  culture  of  mankind  in  its  adaptation  of  the  real  needs  of  life;  that 
the  interrelation  of  scientific  thought  and  intellectual  culture  with 
the  physical  contact  of  Nature  robs  the  latter  of  its  monotony  and 
instils  into  it  the  supremest  joy:  all  of  these  are  lessons  which  the 
farmer's  boy  of  our  day  and  his  cliildren  are  to  learn. 

MANY  agencies  are  working  in  the  direction  of  dignifpng  the 
life  and  labor  of  the  farm;  the  common  and  natural  life  of 
man.  Perhaps  the  influence  most  fundamental  and  farthest 
reaching  is  the  attitude  of  modern  science  in  tacitly  accepting  the 
viewpoint  of  the  evolutionary  theory,  in  beginning  to  think  in  terms 
of  the  physical  facts  of  life  and  in  thus  frankly  investigating  "what 
God  and  man  is."  Doubtless  the  general  adoption  of  this  way  of 
thought  in  relation  to  rural  life  as  exemplified  in  the  State  agricultural 

199 


THE  BOY  ON  THE   FARM 

colleges,  and  in  the  experiments  conducted  by  the  Department  of 
Agriculture  at  Washington,  has  produced  a  definite  effect  and 
is  destined  to  be  yet  more  influential.  Through  bulletins  and  students, 
through  the  press  and  through  the  efforts  ot  their  so-called  Depart- 
ments of  Extension,  these  institutions  are  an  undoubted  force  for 
the  promotion  of  a  more  intelligent  rural  life.  The  movement  from 
centers  of  population  back  to  the  land  in  the  development  of  suburban 
homes  and  the  like,  has  been  alluded  to.  Various  efforts  for  the 
teaching  of  agriculture  in  the  public  schools,  the  promotion  of  school 
gardens  and  tlie  creation  of  literature  along  these  lines  are  significant. 
These  and  many  other  things  that  might  be  cited  at  once  register 
the  trend  of  public  opinion  and  by  their  momentum,  like  the  rolling 
snowball,  tend  to  increase  its  force. 

What  remains  is  chiefly  to  develop  a  concrete  form  of  institution 
that  shall  afford  an  environment  in  all  respects  similar  to  that  of  the 
farmer's  life,  with  the  addition  of  those  features  which  it  lacks  today, 
and  the  want  of  which  prevents  the  farm  from  affording  the  farmer's 
boys  and  girls  complete  satisfaction.  These  are  chiefly,  better  and 
more  profitable  metnods  of  farming,  better  housing,  with  home  fur- 
nishings and  decorations  that  are  at  once  simple,  useful,  and  therefore 
artistic,  and  a  mode  of  education  that  shall  admit  of  the  acquisition 
by  every  individual,  under  proper  leadership  and  guidance,  and  in 
the  intervals  of  physical  toil,  of  real  and  substantial  culture. 

The  objects  of  the  proposed  experiments  at  Craftsman  Farms 
will  be  to  afford  such  an  environment  and  to  create  such  an  institution. 
Once  seen  to  be  adequate  to  the  solution  of  these  problems,  there 
is  no  reason  why  such  an  institution  could  not  be  duplicated  eveiy  where. 
The  Craftsman  house  affords  a  type  of  housing  and  domestic  envi- 
ronment that  will  at  once  simplify  and  make  attractive  the  farmer's 
dwelling.  The  association  ot  handicrafts  with  agriculture,  as  ad- 
vocated by  the  editor  of  The  Craftsman,  will  develop  the  perception 
of  beauty,  quicken  intelligence  and  afford  an  agreeable  and  profitable 
occupation  for  leisure  hours  that  might  otherwise  hang  heavily  on 
the  farm  boy's  hands.  And  the  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  life 
on  the  farm  by  means  of  the  insight  of  master  craftsmen  and  artists 
who  will  live  and  labor  among  their  fellows  as  common  men,  will 
afford  the  needful  leadership  and  guidance.  Thus  the  farm  can  be 
made  a  laboratory  in  which  the  fundamental  lessons  of  life  can  be 
investigated  and  brought  to  a  solution  by  the  processes  of  life  itself. 


200 


y-rojji    JJriil.'the   Kintal    und  I'ekoration 


SrUlM.lIMIi:        (llARI-ES     TnilllV, 
r.MNTKH. 

"Ai-TF-K      TIIK      HAIN:"      CHARLES 
TOOBY.    I'AINTF.R. 


From   Deutsche  Kunst   und   Dckoralif-tt 


BARNVARU     I'ENCIL     STIDIES: 
CHARLES     TOOBY,      PAINTER. 


THE  GARDEN  AS  A  CIVIC  ASSET,  AND  SOME 
SIMPLE  WAYS  OF  MAKING  IT  BEAUTIFUL: 
BY  MARY  RANKIN  CRANSTON 

UITE  as  much  individuality  may  be  expressed  in  the 
planning  of  home  surroundings,  the  flower  and  vege- 
table gardens,  as  in  the  home  itself.  Just  as  the  intenor 
of  the  house  discloses  the  inner  hfe  of  the  family,  so 
do  the  home  grounds  reflect  the  family's  ideal  of  the 
larger,  or  civic,  hfe.  A  well  kept,  orderly  garden  in- 
dicates a  responsible  personahty ;  a  neglected  dooryard 
is  a  sign  of  sliiftlessness.  The  most  satisfactory  gardens  are  those 
which  seem  to  have  Uttle  formality  of  plan,  but  whose  natural  ap- 
pearance is  in  reality  the  result  of  artistic  arrangement  and  the  guid- 
ing hand  of  the  true  lover  of  Nature. 

Nor  is  a  large  lot  necessary  to  secure  a  pretty  setting  for  the  house. 
"NMiere  the  building  occupies  almost  all  of  the  yard  space  it  is  still 
possible  to  do  a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  improvement.  Window 
boxes  give  a  touch  of  brightness  to  the  dreariest  exterior,  a  border 
around  the  house  of  petumas  in  spring  and  summer,  and  chrysanthe- 
mums in  the  autumn  wll  relieve  the  bare  appearance  of  a  dwelhng 
too  near  the  street  to  permit  of  flower  beds.  A  divisional  fence  of 
woven  wire,  where  famihes  cannot  be  persuaded  to  part  with  the  side 
fence,  will  be  a  pleasure  all  summer  long  if  it  is  covered  wth  sweet 
peas,  nasturtiums,  cypress  vine  or  the  humble  morning-glorj-.  The 
side  gate  may  have  an  arch  over  it  made  of  ordinary  lead  or  iron 
piping,  covered  with  a  climbing  rose,  wistaria  or  honeysuckle.  Such 
an  arch  has  even  been  made  of  barrel  staves.  The  earth  should 
be  well  pulverized  and  enriched  if  a  rapid  growth  is  desired.  When 
a  pet  dog  of  mine  died  and  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  giving  hina 
over  to  the  ash  man,  I  buried  him  beneath  a  rosebush  which  for  some 
unkno'RTi  reason  refused  to  make  rapid  growth.  The  next  season's 
growth  was  phenomenal,  which  proved  the  wisdom  of  my  experiment 
and  gave  me  the  additional  happiness  of  the  fanciful  belief  that  my 
dog  was  still  with  me  in  spirit. 

If  there  is  space  for  a  border  along  the  side  fence,  nothing  is  more 
beautiful  for  this  purpose  than  phlox  or  golden  glow.  Or,  if  the 
mistress  of  the  house  is  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind  she  can  divide  the 
border  between  ornamental  plants  and  vegetables,  placing  the  flow- 
ers nearest  the  street  and  finishing  out  the  bed  with  such  vegetables 
as  lettuce,  radishes,  dwarf  peas  or  bush  beans.  It  is  a  pity  the  car- 
rot is  placed  so  far  down  the  list  of  desirable  vegetables,  for  it  is  one 
of  the  most  wholesome,  and  quite  ornamental  as  a  border  plant. 
The  yield  from  the  smallest  garden  spot  is  astonishing,  if  the  ground 

205 


THE   GARDEN  AS  A   CRIC  ASSET 

is  well  fertilized  and  cultivated.  Vegetables  are  best  planted  in 
rows,  running  from  north  to  south.  If  space  can  be  left  to  run  the 
hand  cultivator  in  between  and  the  plants  can  be  properly  watered, 
by  successive  plantings  fresh  vegetables  may  be  had  from  early  spring 
until  late  fall. 

A  PERGOLA  is  useful  as  well  as  ornamental,  for  besides  giving 
shade  it  also  affords  privacy  without  having  the  appearance 
of  being  a  screen.  On  a  fifty-foot  lot,  which  leaves  only  a 
narrow  space  between  house  and  fence  hne,  there  is  little  privacy 
without  an  arbor  of  some  sort,  or  shrubbery.  It  would  be  an  easy 
matter  to  construct  an  arbor  the  whole  length  of  the  walk  from  the 
side  gate  to  kitchen  door.  For  this  purpose  gas  piping  takes  up  less 
room  than  any  other  kind  of  frame  equally  as  durable.  Grapevines 
make  the  best  covering,  since  they  are  in  leaf  as  early  as  anything 
else  and  stay  green  until  very  late.  The  first  summer,  however, 
quick  growing  vines  should  be  planted  wdth  the  grapes,  so  the  arbor 
will  be  covered  while  the  grapevines  are  growing.  Ordinary  running 
beans  and  lima  beans  planted  at  intervals  of  three  weeks  until  mid- 
summer will  keep  the  arbor  covered  and  supply  the  family  table. 
If  only  shade,  privacy  and  beauty  are  desired,  nothing  is  better  than 
the  Japanese  hop  vine. 

On  a  larger  lot,  a  pergola  is  made  wider  than  an  ordinary  arbor 
and  of  lumber  crosspieces  with  either  cedar  posts  or  cement  columns, 
A  combination  of  vines  which  will  give  satisfactory  results  in  a  year 
or  so  are  Red  Rambler  roses  at  opposite  corners,  with  white  climbing 
roses  at  the  other  two  corners.  A  good  white  chmber  is  the  Rosa 
Wichuriana,  or,  if  a  pink  rose  is  wanted,  the  Dorothy  Perkins  is 
very  good. 

Perhaps  the  most  beautiful  porch  or  window  vine  is  the  wild 
clematis,  but  it  has  a  close  rival  in  the  climber  called  the  Star  of 
Bethlehem,  whose  delicate  foliage  and  fragrant  white  blossoms  more 
than  compensate  for  its  slow  growth  the  first  year  or  so.  North  of 
Mason  and  Dixon's  line  it  should  be  protected  during  the  winter 
months. 

Shaded  corners  which  the  rays  of  the  sun  seldom  or  never  reach 
are  apt  to  be  given  over  to  hopeless  desolation.  They  need  not  be, 
for  a  basket  of  ferns  from  the  woods,  a  pile  of  rocks  or  an  old  tree 
stump  and  good,  rich,  well  pulverized  earth  will  make  a  fernery  wliich 
refjuires  Httle  attention  beyond  a  plentiful  supply  of  water  every  day. 

Where  the  grounds  are  large  enough  to  allow  some  freedom  in 
planting,  it  is  still  best  to  have  flowers  in  beds  alon^  the  fence,  near 
the  house  and  as  borders  for  walks  and  driveways,  leaving  the  open 

206 


THE   GARDEN  AS  A  CIVIC  ASSETn 

space  for  a  lawn  and  a  few  trees.  Flowering  shrubs  or  those  with 
beautiful  foliage  are  valuable  as  screens  for  buildings  which  would 
otherwise  be  unsightly,  and  to  hide  from  the  public  necessary  house- 
hold occupations,  such  as  laundry  work. 

Nowadays,  when  nurserymen  can  transplant  large  trees  success- 
fully, it  is  not  necessary  to  wait  for  years  to  have  plenty  of  shade. 
It  is,  of  course,  more  expensive  to  buy  the  large  trees,  and  then  it  is 
always  a  pleasure  to  watch  young  trees  grow  and  develop,  especially 
when  the  price  must  be  considered.  Alaples  grow  rapidly,  sym- 
metrically and  give  shade  very  soon.  The  brown-tailed  moth  is 
very  fond  of  them,  it  is  true,  but  he  may  be  kept  from  the  trees  if 
attention  is  given  to  him  as  soon  as  he  appears. 

If  residents  of  a  street  want  to  reach  the  highest  state  of  ciAnc 
improvement  and  at  the  same  time  enhance  the  value  of  their  own 
and  their  neighbors'  property,  let  them  remove  all  fences  and  permit 
the  lawns  to  reach  entirely  to  the  sidewalk,  which  should  have  at  its 
outer  edge  a  border  of  grass.  If  such  a  street  has  large  trees,  elms  and 
oaks  particularly,  it  is  a  civic  asset  for  the  entire  town.  One  of  the 
most  beautiful  residence  streets  in  America  is  Greene  Street,  in 
Augusta,  Georgia.  It  is  wide  enough  to  have  four  rows  of  trees,  one 
at  the  outer  edge  of  the  sidewalk  on  both  sides  of  the  street  and  a 
double  row  down  the  center  of  the  street,  with  a  grass  plot  in  between. 
To  walk  down  the  path  in  the  middle  row  underneath  the  elms,  whose 
tall  branches  form  the  true  Gothic  arch,  vistas  of  light  and  shade  are 
seen  whose  beauty  can  never  be  forgotten. 

A  country  place  is  at  the  same  time  easier  and  more  difficult  to 
improve  than  one  in  a  town  or  village,  easier  because  a  freer  hand 
may  be  used  in  its  development,  more  difficult  because  the  planting 
must  be  harmonious  and  conform  to  the  lay  of  the  land.  Then  a 
farm,  no  matter  how  small,  should  be  self-contained,  as  far  as  possible, 
and  there  are  so  many  needs  to  be  pro\'ided  for. 

IT  IS  a  fascinating  thing,  however,  to  take  an  old,  run-down  place, 
not  too  large,  and  bring  order  out  of  chaos.  When  I  bought 
my  own  farm  of  fourteen  acres  two  and  a  half  years  ago,  the  land 
had  all  been  planted  in  corn  and  hay.  The  tiny  four-roomed  house 
appeared  so  dilapidated  that  I  questioned  if  it  would  last  until  a  new 
cottage  could  be  built,  which  I  did  not  think  would  happen  for  two 
or  three  years,  and  in  the  meantime  I  wanted  to  spend  my  summers 
there.  My  country  neighbor  assured  me  that,  "it  was  an  old  house 
when  I  came  here,  an'  that  was  nigh  fifty  years  ago,  an'  it  ain't  fell 
down  jnt,  an'  ye  know  it's  good  as  long  as  it  stan's."  There  was  no 
gainsaying  that,  and  as  he  refused  to  consider  the  possibility  of  col- 

207 


THE   GARDEN  AS  A   CIVIC  ASSET 

lapse,  I  concluded  to  follow  his  example  and  not  hunt  for  trouble. 
Friends,  members  of  the  family  and  I  have  spent  two  summers  there 
and  apparently  the  little  house  is  good  for  many  more,  for  although 
put  up  by  country  carpenters,  it  was  constructed  before  the  days  of 
"jerry  building"  and  is  more  sound  than  it  looks. 

Wien  I  first  saw  it,  the  place's  only  pretensions  to  beauty  were 
some  fine  fruit  trees,  a  pear  tree  and  syringa  bush  on  either  side  of 
the  gate,  meeting  overhead  in  a  very  pretty  arch,  some  small  shrubs 
around  the  house  and  a  lilac  bush  near  the  well,  all  in  a  state  of 
neglect.  The  trees  and  shrubs  we  trimmed  into  some  vestige  of 
shape,  the  holes  in  the  trunk  of  the  lilac  were  cleaned  out  and  my  first 
attempt  at  tree  surgery  was  made  by  filling  the  hollow  with  stones  and 
cement.  The  experiment  was  perfectly  successful,  for  the  bush  has 
taken  on  a  new  lease  of  life. 

What  had  been  a  fine  old  Concord  grapevine  was  trained  on  a 
broken-down  fence  in  front  of  the  house,  about  twelve  feet  from  the 
porch,  precisely  where  it  hid  the  glimpse,  between  the  distant  trees, 
of  the  liigh  road,  a  mile  away.  The  fence  we  took  down ;  as  shade 
was  needed  for  the  porch,  and  it  was  not  practicable  to  train  vines 
on  it,  an  arbor  was  erected  and  the  grapevine  pulled  up  over  it  toward 
the  porch.  The  arbor  was  made  of  trees  cut  down  in  a  neighboring 
wood.  It  had  to  be  light  and  rustic  to  suit  the  surroundings.  Cutting 
out  the  dead  wood  and  trimming  the  vine  improved  it  immensely, 
but  ii  still  did  not  reach  the  porch  to  give  sufficient  shade,  which 
was  needed  quickly,  so  gourd  \ines  were  planted  at  the  porch  end  of 
the  arbor.  They  were  liiglily  successful,  made  rapid  growth  and 
gave  dense  shade.  The  delicate,  crepy  white  flowers  made  a  decided 
contrast  to  the  large  coarse  leaves.  As  the  petals  fell,  and  the  gourds 
matured,  they  formed  fantastic  shapes  and  hung  down  from  the  arbor 
as  stockings  hang  from  a  Christmas  tree. 

The  small  ramshackle  barn  matched  the  house  and  was  so  near 
that  we  had  to  see  it,  whether  we  wanted  to  or  not.  In  order  that 
it  might  not  be  an  eyesore,  morning-glories,  gourds  and  nasturtiums 
were  planted  around  both  sides,  and  sunflowers  and  cosmos  at  the  ends, 
hiding  all  the  bareness  as  completely  as  possible,  leaving  just  space 
enough  to  open  the  doors;  for  garden  tools,  kerosene,  and  such 
tilings  had  to  be  kept  within.  'I  he  ambitious  morning-glories  and 
gourds  climl)ed  up  to  the  top  and  down  again  on  the  opposite  side. 
The  nasturtiums  were  not  so  venturesome,  but  contented  themselves 
with  doing  more  thoroughly  a  work  they  found  at  hand.  The  barn 
had  a  partition  in  it  with  window  openings,  but  no  sash  or  blinds. 

Of  course,  the  little  house  had  no  bathroom  and  no  space  to  give 
lo  one,  so  the  small  end  of  the  barn  was  made  into  a  place  where 

208 


THE   GARDEN  AS  A  CIVIC  ASSET 

a  bath  could  be  had  in  tolerable  comfort,  even  if  it  did  not  fall  within 
the  strict  definition  of  a  bathroom.  A  platform  was  made  to  cover 
half  the  original  dirt  floor;  with  a  large  tub,  a  white  iron  washstand, 
a  large  water  can  for  cold  and  big  pitchers  for  hot  water,  a  good  bath 
was  quite  possible.  At  first  it  was  a  puzzle  to  know  what  to  do  with 
the  water  afterward.  The  solution  was  a  drain  dug  from  just  inside 
the  bam  underneath  the  side  wall  and  out  some  distance  into  the 
field,  making  it  only  necessary  to  turn  the  tub  on  end  and  let  the  water 
flow  out  into  the  drain.  The  nastuiliums  have  not  been  lost  sight 
of  in  this  digression,  however  far  off  they  may  appear.  The  task 
they  performed  admirably  was  to  grow  over  the  bathroom,  completely 
shielding  the  open  window  space;  they  even  crept  inside  blossoming 
over  tub  and  washstand,  forming  a  natural  curtain  after  their  own 
plan.  Nasturtiums  deservedly  rank  high  as  flowers  for  house  and 
garden,  for  we  were  never  without  a  large  bowl  of  them  on  the  living 
room  table,  and  the  more  we  cut  them  the  more  they  bloomed. 

AS  I  took  up  my  abode  at  Pendidit,  the  name  I  gave  the  little 
farm,  in  the  early  spring  when  the  roadside  exhibited  sharp 
bare  lines,  I  planned  to  "improve"  it  by  setting  out  a  border 
of  hardy  perennials  against  the  fence.  As  summer  advanced,  bring- 
ing the  violets,  daisies,  queen's  lace  and  golden  rod  I  had  not  the 
impertinence  to  make  a  single  alteration.  The  passing  weeks  brought 
their  own  changes  in  color  and  the  succession  of  natural  wild  flowers 
gave  a  variety  which  was  a  continual  delight. 

People  who  must  buy  the  shipped  vegetables  of  city  markets  do 
not  know  their  real  taste.  This  is  especially  true  of  sweet  com  and 
lima  beans.  Of  course,  my  first  thought  was  about  the  garden 
which  my  neighbor  had  agreed  to  make  for  me.  As  soon  as  the 
ground  was  ready  he  plowed  and  harrowed  an  acre  for  the  garden 
spot.  When  asked  how  much  of  a  garden  I  intended  to  have,  I 
repUed  that  I  thought  half  an  acre  would  be  big  enough.  "An'  is 
that  all  ?  That  ain't  no  garden  't  all,"  so  I  then  said  an  acre.  Po- 
tatoes are  the  chief  article  of  diet  in  the  rural  districts ;  their  planting 
in  spring,  for  the  time  being,  engages  the  attention  of  farmers  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  else.  As  the  country  people  passed  by  on  their  way 
to  and  from  the  nearby  town,  they  would  stop  and  call  out  to  know 
if  "yer  got  yer  pertaters  in  yit.'*"  It  was  as  much  a  topic  of  conver- 
sation as  the  opera  is  in  the  city,  and  the  question  was  put  in  quite 
the  same  way  as  if  it  had  been  "Have  you  heard  'Salome'  yet.'" 
Naturally,  my  neighbor  asked  how  many  potatoes  I  expected  to 
plant.  By  that  time  I  had  learned  that  he  dealt  with  large  quan- 
tities only,  so  I  hazarded  "a  bushel."     "No  more'n  that — why  that 

209 


THE   GARDEN  AS  A  CIVIC  ASSET 

ain't  nawthin'."  So  I  said  two  bushels,  wondering  if  he  could  be 
"conning"  me  for  a  "city  greeny."  He  w^as  not,  but  I  suppose  he 
had  never  known  anyone  to  plant  as  few  potatoes  as  one  bushel.  That 
first  summer  was  a  hberal  education  in  gardening  with  this  true  son 
of  the  soil  as  my  instructor,  although  he  did  not  know  it. 

The  permanent  garden  spot  is  now  at  one  side  of  the  new  house, 
shielded  by  it  from  the  north  winds  and  protected  on  the  west  by  a 
mndbreak  of  shrubs  and  cedars.  It  therefore  has  an  eastern  and 
southern  exposure.  The  vegetables  are  planted  in  straight  rows 
and  there  is  a  strip  reserved  nearest  the  shrubbery  for  three  hotbeds, 
three  by  six  feet  each,  which  will  be  made  in  the  fall. 

It  requires  a  little  more  trouble  to  grow  really  fine  small  fruits, 
but  it  is  quite  expensive  to  get  a  place  stocked  with  the  best  varieties 
all  at  once.  As  it  is  not  practicable  for  me  to  give  up  employment 
in  the  city  just  yet,  I  have  the  time  to  wait  for  plants  to  multiply,  so 
last  October  I  put  out  one  hundred  fine  pot-grown  strawberry  plants. 
When  the  runners  are  large  enough  this  season,  they  will  be  pinched 
off  and  made  into  pot-grown  plants  of  my  own,  to  be  set  out  in  the 
fall,  thus  giving  me  a  large  berry  patch  by  another  year.  The  same 
plan  is  followed  with  hardy  English  violets,  which  always  find  ready 
market  in  New  York  City  and  Philadelphia.  Pendidit  is  well  lo- 
cated between  the  two  places. 

A  few  raspberries,  currants  and  cultivated  blackberries  were 
planted  in  order  to  see  which  would  thrive  best  on  the  soil.  The 
raspberries  far  outstripped  the  others,  so  this  spring  two  hundred 
additional  plants  will  be  put  out.  This  method  will  give  me  a  place 
well  stocked  with  fine  fruit  at  far  less  cost  than  if  I  had  tried  to  do 
it  all  at  once.  Every  spring  and  fall  I  intend  to  add  a  few  new  plants. 
When  I  am  ready  to  live  in  the  country  permanently,  and  it  is  the 
only  real  life  there  is,  my  farm  mil  have  advanced  a  long  way  toward 
self-support. 


210 


I 


TWO  CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  DESIGNED  FOR  THE 
HOME  BUILDERS'  CLUB,  TO  BE  ERECTED  ON 
CITY  LOTS 


THE  two  Craftsman  houses  presented 
this  month  for  the  use  of  the  Home 
Builders'  Club  are  given  in  answer 
to  the  request  of  members  who 
wish  to  build  Craftsman 
houses  in  the  city.  To  meet 
this  need  we  have  sought  to 
design  a  house  that  shall  be, 
first  of  all,  as  compact  and 
comfortable  as  possible  for 
winter  use  and  still  not  be 
without  certain  advantages 
in  spring  and  summer,  which 
are  quite  lacking  in  the  usual 
city  block. 

We  think  the  cement  and 
shingle  house,  in  particular, 
has  successfully  fulfilled  this 
idea.  The  other  requires  a 
frontage  of  not  less  than 
fifty  feet,  but  this  is  only 
nineteen  feet  wide  and  can 
be  built  on  the  ordinar>'  city 
lot.  The  floor  plans  show 
that  the  interior  of  the  house 
has  been  arranged  to  utilize 
every  inch  of  available 
space, — a  valuable  considera- 
tion in  city  building.  Out- 
side, front  and  rear  porches 
and  a  balcony  that  may  be 
shaded  by  an  awning  will  do 
much  toward  making  the 
summer  heat  endurable.  The 
lower  story  of  the  house  is 


of  cement  on  a  low  foundation  of  split 
field  stone.  The  pillars  and  all  the  wood- 
work are  of  cypress,  which  must  be  either 
chemically  treated  or  painted  to  withstand 


CEUENT    AND    SHINGLE    HOUSK : 
FIRST  AND  SECOND   FLOOR    PLANS. 

211 


CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  FOR  CITY  LOTS 


CRAFTSMAN    CEMENT    HOUSE: 
FIRST   FLOOR   PLAN. 


the  action  of  the  weather.  The  second 
story  is  covered  with  hand-split  shingles 
seven  inches  by  twenty-four,  left  to  take 
on  the  beautiful  gray  driftwood  color  that 
time  gives  to  them. 

We  wish  to  call  attention  to  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  pergola  at  the  rear  of  the 
house.  This  is  merely  a  three-foot  pro- 
jection on  a  ptorch  nmning  under  the 
second  story,  and  is  built  of  the  exposed 
timbers  of  the  house  supported  by  pillars. 
It  not  only  adds  to  the  attractiveness  of 
that  corner  as  seen  from  the  street,  but, 
covered  with  vines,  would  give  a  lovely 
outlook  for  the  dining  room  windows,  and, 
since  a  door  connects  it  with  the  kitchen, 


may  be  itself  used  as  a  dining  room  it;- 
warm  weather. 

The  chimney  of  split  field  stone  is  very 
interesting  in  construction.  Instead  of 
running  up  at  an  even  depth  from  the  foun- 
dation to  the  roof  and  narrowing  above 
the  fireplace  on  the  ground  floor,  it  keeps 
its  same  width  almost  to  the  eaves,  but 
slants  in  at  the  second  story  to  about  half 
the  original  depth.  This  does  away  with 
the  ugly  monotonous  line  of  the  ordinary 
outside  chimney  and  gives  a  fireplace  up- 
stairs as  wide,  although  not  so  deep,  as  the 
one  on  the  ground  floor. 

All  the  exposed  windows  on  the  second 
story  are  hooded  to  protect  them  from 
driving  storms.  It  is  an  attractive  feature 
in  the  construction,  especially  in  connec- 
tion with  the  window  group, — a  long 
French  casement  flanked  on  either  side 
by  a  double-hung  window, — looking  out 
upon  the  balcony.  The  floor  of  this  bal- 
cony and  the  timbers  that  support  it  form 
the  ceiling  of  the  porch.  The  ends  of 
these  exposed  supports,  projecting  beyond 
the  beam  on  which  they  rest,  emphasize 
the  line  between  the  porch  and  the  balcony 
and  are  a  feature  at  once  decorative  and 
economical ;  for  the  open  construction  does 
away  with  much  repairing  of  the  sort 
occasioned  by  the  action  of  dampness  upon 
timbers  sheathed  in  from  the  sun  and  air. 

The  view  of  the  interior  is  made  from 
a  point  just  in  front  of  the  living  room 
hearth  and  shows  the  use  of  spindles  be- 
tween the  rooms  and  in  the  high  balus- 
trade that  screens  the  two  or  three  steps 
that  lead  up  from  the  dining  room,  and 
are  intended  for  the  use  of  the  servants. 
The  meeting  of  these  stairs  with  those 
from  the  living  room  makes  an  odd  little 
corner  that  offers  many  possibilities  for 
decorative  effects.  The  dining  room  is 
wainscoted  to  the  plate  rail  with  V-joint- 
ed  boards.  The  sideboard  is  built  in  and 
suggests  the  old-time  dresser  with  its 
platter  rail  and  side  cupboards. 

The  second  house  is  built  entirely  of 
cement  on  a  foundation  of  split  field  stone. 
As  it  is  planned  to  be  built  on  a  city  street, 
it  will  probably  be  surrounded  by  the  old 


212 


CRAFTSMAN     HOUSK    01"    CEMENT    AND     SlllNGI-ES 
DESIGNED    FOR  THF.   OKUINARY   CITY    LOT. 

SHOWING  CONSTRUCTION  OF  GROUND  FLOOR,  LIVING 
ROOM.   DINING    ROO.M    AN])   DOUBLE   .STAIRCASE. 


CRAFTSMAN  CKMliNT  lllirSK.  DKSII.NEl)  lOK  A 
lIirV'l'IKlT-rUII.NI'  T(l\\  N    1,(IT. 

iniM.  UiiilM,  WITH  GI.IMI'SK  OF  EXTENSION 
IHNIM.  KIHIM  :  AN  INTEKKSTINC  AUUANGKMENT 
OF     FlKEI'I.Al  E     ANII     lU'll.l     IN     I'.nOKl  ASFS. 


this  back  view  of  a 
charming  house  is  at- 
tracti\t:  because  of  the 
garden  arrangement 
and  the  fact  that  it  is 
so  refreshingly  well 
cared  for. 


44: 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  JAP- 
ANESE ARCHITECTURE  IS 
NOTICEABLE  IN  THE  PORCH 
AND  THRESHOLD  OF  THIS 
SIMPLE   DUELLING. 


THIS  HOUSE  SHOWS  A 
SIMPLICITY  AND  HAR- 
MONY IN  USE  OF  TIMBER 
AND  STONE  WHICH  RE- 
SULTS IN  A  MOST  TRULY 
ARTISTIC  CONSTRUCTION. 


AM.  THF.  TIMBKR  COX- 
.sriilirioN  OK  THIS  HOUSH 
IS  TIUCHED  BV  JAPANESE 
IXFI.rKNCE.  BUT  THE  AIIC 
OF  LlwrRIOl'S  COMFOKT  IS 
ESSENTIALLY    WESTERN. 


JAI'AN  IS  A(,AIN  Sl'(. 
(.FSTFIi  IIFKE  IN  rill- 
STVIF  IIF  Wdlill  (.ONSTRUl 
II(l\;  lUT  TIIF  STONE  an;i 
IIKK  K  WALL  DECOKATFIi 
UIIH  (  (II.OREI)  I'ORCELAI  \ 
TILES    IS    LAI.IFOKNIAN. 


IIFUL  A  HKIAIl.  IS  (,1\'F.N 
111-  111  F  WAIL  sIIOU  N 
AI;o\  F.  1  II  A  1  0\F  M  AY  SEE 
MIIKK  I  \  II  M  \  I  II. \  THE 
111  M  1  n  (II  IMF  MASONRY 
AMI  I  III  PL  \1  I  M.  OF  THE 
I.KFFMsll-FLl    F     1  II  Fs. 


HERE  IS  A  SECOND  HOUSE 
WITH  THE  RIGHT  SORT  OF 
A  BACKYARD.  NOTE  THE 
CHEERFUL  UPPER  PORCH 
AND  THE  MASSES  OF  VINES 
AND  SHRUBS  AND  GENERAL 
AIR  OF  INTELLIGENT  LIV- 
ING. 


IIIIS  HOUSE  IS  ESPECIAL- 
LY .NOTICEABLE  FOR  THE 
.'-I.MPLICITY  OF  THE  TI.M- 
HER  CONSTRUCTION  AND 
THE  ARRANGE.MENT  OF 
THE  WINDOWS.  THERE  IS 
A  SUGGESTION  OF  AN  OUT- 
DOOR   SLEEPlNc;    ROOM    OVER 

IHE    PERGOLA    PORCH. 


m 


■'iS^XiH^ 


THE  SWEEPING  ROOF  LINE 
OF  THIS  HOUSE  IS  DE- 
LKiHTFUL.  THE  ENTRANCE 
OF  .MASONRY  IS  UNIQUE. 
AND  THE  PERGOLA  AP- 
PROACH TO  THE  BACKYARD 
A    PLEASANT    IDEA. 


'^i^i^^ 


A    UETAIL    OF    TlIK    I'lUSI      HorSK    ON     r.\i,K    J 1 S. 
SHOWING  GKtAT  ClIAUM    Ol-    SIMPLE    WUOUWOKK. 


A    rNI(JlE(,ATE  OF   I'INE  TIMBERS  AXU  I  OEOKEi) 
I'UUCELAIX    TILES    SET    l.\    A    BRICK    WALL. 


K^^^g^yi 

1 

HI^HHBHi'^ 

f^H^^" 

*.S^' 

^^^^5 

1 

ni£ 

^ 

mtm 

^=sA 

A    RACK    DOOUWAV    THAT    CAliRIES    A    FINE 
SUGGESTION    OF    ROMANCE    IN    ITS    IlEAUTY, 


niE     PICTURESQUE    WALL     OK    r.RICK     AND     STONE 
WHICH   CARRIES  THE  LOVELY  PORCELAIN  GATEWAY. 


CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  FOR  CITY  LOTS 


style  city  houses,  their  fronts  a  good  deal 
dulled  and  darkened  by  age.  It  is  sug- 
gested, therefore,  that  the  natural  color  of 
the  cement  be  deepened  to  a  granite  gray 
so  that  the  new  building  will  not  be  in  too 
obvious  a  contrast  to  its  neighbors.  The 
porch  of  this  house  is  unusual  and  beauti- 
ful. Only  the  entrance  is  roofed  over; 
the  rest  is  a  pergola  construction  upon 
which  vines  may  be  trained  to  furnish 
shade.  The  cement  chimney  is  built  in 
three  widths;  it  narrows  slightly  between 
the  first  and  second  stories;  the  projection 
of  the  roof  concealing  the  more  abrupt 
variation  necessary  at  the  eaves. 

The  interior  view  of  the  second  house 
is  made  from  the  front  of  the  living  room, 
looking  diagonally  across  it  toward  the 
dining  room.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the 
exterior  of  the  house  shows  double-hung 
windows;  and  many  people  prefer  them. 
The  Craftsman  inclines  to  the  use  of 
casement  windows  for  reasons  very  well 
illustrated  in  the  accompanying  interior 
view.  The  small  square  panes  are  always 
attractive  in  a  room  and  spaces  are  left 
beneath  casement  windows  for  built-in 
seats,  handsome  paneling,  or,  as  in  this 
case,  book  shelves;  things  which  go  to 
make  a  room  interesting  in  itself,  inde- 
pendent of  the  furnishings.  The  chimney- 
piece  is  built  of  bricks  with  rough  porous 
surfaces.  These  are  of  varied  colors, — old 
blue,  burnt  sienna,  dull  yellow  and  many 
tan  and  salmon  shades,  and  when  right- 
ly arranged  the  result  is  beautiful, 
especially  if  the  colors  are  repeated 
in  the  decorative  scheme  of  the  room. 
The  shelf  is  a  thick  board — of  what- 
ever wood  is  selected  for  the  finishing 
of  the  room — supported  on  two  brack- 
ets made  of  bricks.  Below  the  shelf  tiles 
are  inserted  that  may  be  of  the  same 
material  as  the  brick,  but  any  of  the 
decorative  tiles  in  low  relief  could  be  used. 

The  dining  room  in  wainscoted  with 
V-jointed  boards  and  is  separated  only  by 
narrow  partitions  from  the  living  room. 
The  sideboard  is  built  in  and  the  space 
between  it  and  the  rear  wall  is  filled  bv  a 


CRAFTSMAN   CEMENT    HOUSE: 
SECOND   FLOOR    PLAN. 

china  closet.  In  the  corresponding  space 
between  the  sideboard  and  the  front  wall 
a  swinging  door  leads  into  a  roomy 
butler's  pantry.  The  kitchen  has  several 
cupboards  and  also  two  big  pantries,  one 
of  which  contains  the  icebox.  A  few  steps 
leading  from  a  landing  on  the  main  stair- 
way connect  the  kitchen  with  the  upper 
part  of  the  house.  It  will  be  noticed  that 
the  servant's  sleeping  room  and  bath  are 
on  the  first  floor.  The  large  garret,  which 
may  be  additionally  lighted  by  skylights, 
would  make  a  splendid  billiard  hall,  or 
could  be  broken  up  into  smaller  rooms  to 
be  used  for  various  purposes,  such  as 
storerooms  or  extra  bedroonns. 


215 


SOME  PASADENA  HOUSES  SHOWING  HARMONY 
BETWEEN  STRUCTURE  AND  LANDSCAPE 


IN  the  photographs  of  California  houses 
and  bungalows  given  in  this  number 
there  is  a  noticeable  suggestion  of 
Swiss  architecture.  This  is  quite 
understandable  since  the  buildings  are 
planned  especially  for  location  along  the 
broad  curving  hillsides  and  sharp  ravines 
of  Pasadena  and  we  find  if  we  heed  one 
of  the  first  principles  of  architecture  (the 
harmony  between  structure  and  landscape) 
that  similar  forms  of  land  demand  similar 
styles  in  architecture. 

An  example  of  this  harmony  is  found  in 
the  happy  combination  of  cobblestone  and 
burnt  brick  that  forms  the  stonework  of 
all  these  designs.  The  introduction  of 
cobblestones  gives  a  touch  of  solidity  in 
keeping  with  the  hill  country  and  at  the 
same  time  relieves  the  abrupt  monotony 
of  the  brick;  while  an  entire  use  of  the 
gray  stone  would  be  too  heavy  a  contrast 
to  the  vivid,  light-flooded  landscape  of 
California. 

In  all  these  houses  the  lu.xuriance  of  the 
vines  and  shrubbery  is  an  important  fea- 
ture. One  cannot  over-estimate  the  effect 
of  green  about  a  home  intended  for  a 
warm  weather  dwelling.  There  is  refresh- 
ment and  strength  on  a  hot  day  in  the 
very  sight  of  a  cool  embowered  house  with 
wide  deep  shadowed  porches.  Much  has 
been  said  about  over-planting,  but  these 
delightful  photographs  seem  an  unanswer- 
able argument.  No  matter  how  perfect 
the  lines  of  a  building  are  Nature  can 
always  add  a  last  luxury  of  grace  that 
accentuates  rather  than  conceals  the  orig- 
inal plan.  Man  owes  a  certain  duty  to 
Nature  in  return.  Let  him  raise  struc- 
tures that  will  blend  with  the  landscape  as 
he  finds  it  and  he  may  be  sure  that  his 
house  will  gain  a  generous  amount  of 
charm  by  his  concession. 

The  first  house  is  a  low  building  of 
sweeping  lines  with  burnt  brick  founda- 
tions, broad,  weather-stained  shingles  and 
heavy  vaulted  timbers.  Awnings  give  a 
very  necessary  protection  from  the  Cali- 
fornia sunshine  and  emphasize  the  air  of 

216 


cordiality  and  hominess.  The  second  story 
projects  slightly  over  the  first,  and  the  roof 
curves  a  bit  upward  at  the  ends,  lifting 
simplicity  above  the  commonplace.  The 
wide  plain  boards  surrounding  the  win- 
dows make  a  pleasant  variation  for  the 
eye  in  the  expanse  of  shingled  walls. 
Although  there  is  ample  space  behind  the 
deep  wall  enclosing  the  front  porch,  the 
arrangement  of  the  openings  in  the  lower 
story  proved  something  of  a  problem.  It 
has  been  adequately  met  by  the  two  balanc- 
ing half-windows  on  either  side  of  the 
entrance.  The  front  view  of  this  house 
shows  an  unbroken  lawn  of  clover  lead- 
ing to  the  inviting  pergola  porch  at  the 
side,  with  its  restful  summer  furnishings. 
Above,  a  screened  loggia  makes  an  out- 
door sleeping  room.  The  whole  house  of 
golden  brown  stone  blends  into  the  back- 
ground of  the  pine  grove  separated  from 
the  house  grounds  by  a  fence  of  stone  and 
stout  timbers  that  in  this  case  is  not  only 
a  boundary  but  a  charm  added  to  the 
setting. 

The  porch  of  the  second  bungalow 
shown  has  a  good  deal  of  the  Japanese 
spirit  in  the  restfulness  and  simpHcity  of 
line  and  all  of  the  Californian  atmosphere 
of  comfort  and  friendliness.  Somewhere 
in  its  shady  depths  will  surely  be  found 
wicker  chairs  and  dainty  tea  things.  No 
less  delightful  is  the  rear  view  of  the 
house,  half  concealed  by  a  mass  of  varied 
foliage,  broken  by  cool  awnings  of  red 
and  white.  Rising  from  the  midst  of  so 
much  green  the  many  window  groups  in 
the  body  and  wing  of  the  house  help  out 
the  delightful  suggestion  of  airiness  and 
light.  The  steps  leading  to  the  porch  are 
at  once  beautiful  and  unusual.  They  are 
of  smooth  heavy  pine  timbers  bolted  to- 
gether, unstained,  so  that  the  strong  nat- 
ural grain  of  the  wood  is  clearly  seen.  The 
growth  of  the  shrubberj'  about  the  steps 
is  kept  down ;  thus  the  woodwork  is  not 
hidden  and  the  straight  severe  lines  rise  in 
a  pleasant  contrast  above  the  soft  contour 
of  the  foliage.    On  the  right,  a  palm  adds 


HOUSES  SUITED  TO  THE   LANDSCAPE 


a  touch  peculiarly  Californian  and  above, 
at  the  threshold  of  the  porch,  a  Japanese 
lantern  of  bronze  is  hung.  The  approach 
is  built  of  red  brick  with  a  cobblestone 
center  and  is  used  by  automobiles  and  car- 
riages as  well  as  people  on  foot. 

In  another  of  the  photographs  a  box 
hedge  with  a  low  brick  wall  at  its  base 
running  across  the  front  of  the  entire  lot 
conceals  the  walk  to  the  house  and  gives 
it  a  privacy  that  is  impossible  when  the 
path  leads  directly  from  the  door  to  the 
sidewalk.  Having  the  entrance  to  the 
grounds  at  one  end  of  the  hedge  gives  a 
larger  unbroken  stretch  of  lawn  and  makes 
a  charming  setting.  This  house  is  espe- 
cially attractive  in  its  simplicity  and  modest 
individuality.  The  wide  hospitable  door 
is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  wide  win- 
dows, simply  draped,  and  the  lazy  broad 
spreading  roof.  The  little  tubs  in  which 
are  planted  palms  and  bay  trees  are  the 
evolution  from  a  very  common  article.  They 
are  the  casks  in  which  the  Japanese  import 
fish,  the  chief  dish  of  their  diet,  from 
their  own  country.  They  are  cleaned  and 
varnished,  but  the  Japanese  characters  re- 
lating to  shipping  may  still  be  found  upon 
them.  The  backyard  of  this  bungalow 
shows  a  pleasant  absence  of  the  ash  can. 
Indeed,  the  glass  milk  bottles  on  the  step 
rail  seem  the  sole  indication  that  this  is 
the  rear  view  of  the  house.  The  brick 
walk  at  the  base  of  the  hedge  along  the 
front  is  carried  part  way  back  to  form  the 
dividing  line  from  the  adjoining  lot  and  is 
completed  in  the  rear  angle  by  a  line  of 
small  evergreen  trees  which  in  time  will 
form  an  effective  screen  about  the  clothes 
yard. 

Another  design  shows  a  wall  of  cobble- 
stones and  burnt  brick  behind  which  Cali- 
fornian vegetation  has  run  riot.  The 
house  looks  out  through  a  mass  of  flower- 
ing vines  and  swaying  foliage  and  suggests 
the  blossom  shrouded  dwellings  of  Japan. 
The   wall   is  very  well  built,  the  stones 


carefully  selected  and  graduated  in  size, 
and  the  result  is  a  study  in  color.  Six 
greenish  blue  porcelain  tiles  are  grouped 
and  inserted  in  the  rich  red  background 
of  the  brick;  a  Japanese  lantern  and  bowl 
in  dull  bronze  break  the  hard  line  of  the 
wall  top  and  add  a  third  rich  color  tone 
to  the  whole. 

Few  things  so  pique  the  curiosity  as  a 
gate  in  a  wall,  above  whose  top  comes  the 
cool  suggestion  of  green  garden  closes  and 
rose-twined  summer  pavilions.  This  gate 
illustrated,  not  quite  concealing  the  flight 
of  steps  behind  it,  is  a  fit  entrance  to  the 
most  delightful  garden  fancy  can  rear. 
The  heavy  pine  timbers  are  smoothed  but 
unstained  and  under  the  action  of  the 
weather  have  taken  on  the  soft  gray  of 
driftwood.  Between  the  crosspieces  are 
set  porcelain  tiles,  the  color  of  verdigrised 
bronze;  the  dull  green  leaves  of  a  mag- 
nolia tree  shade  it  from  within  and  it 
hangs  between  posts  of  gray  cobblestone 
and  deep  red  brick.  One  of  the  posts  is 
overrun  with  ivy  and  climbing  roses  and 
surmounted  by  an  Oriental  bronze  bowl 
filled  with  some  small  white  flower.  A 
very  sluggish  imagination  indeed  would  be 
his  who  knocked  at  this  gate  without  a 
thrill. 

The  well  known  difficulty  of  planning 
an  attractive  rear  to  a  house  built  on  a 
hillside  seems  quite  simply  and  happily 
met  in  one  of  the  accompanying  illustra- 
tions. A  brick  walk  along  the  base  of  a 
high  buttressed  wall  leads  to  the  back 
door.  On  the  other  side  of  the  walk  the 
slope  has  been  graded  up  to  form  a  bank, 
giving  a  finish  and  balance  to  the  entrance. 
The  usual  gloom  and  dampness  of  such  an 
arrangement  is  dispelled  by  the  cheerful 
California  flowers  growing  above  the  wall 
and  lining  the  bank,  while  the  two  odd 
Japanese  bowls  holding  miniature  trees  do 
much  to  break  the  severity  of  the  long 
straight  lines  necessary  to  the  building  on 
such  a  situation. 


221 


INTERESTING    TIMBER    CONSTRUCTION    IN 
CALIFORNIA  BUNGALOW 


THE  bungalow  shown  in  the  accom- 
panying illustration  was  designed 
by  Mr.  C.  W.  Buchanan  for  Mr. 
Furrows  of  Pasadena,  California. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  how  closely  the 
graceful  proportions  and  structural  effects 
of  this  little  dwelling  suggest  the  simplicity 
of  the  wooden  temples  of  the  early  Greeks. 
The  roof  has  a  projection  of  three  feet 
at  the  eaves,  which  makes  the  building 
appear  lower  than  it  is.  The  timbers  that 
support  it  are  exposed,  which  relieves  the 


PASADENA    bungalow; 
FLOOR    PLAN. 


long  edges  of  the  slopes  and  gives  the  key- 
note of  sturdiness  to  the  whole  structure. 
The  house  is  covered  with  8-inch  clap- 
boards one  inch  thick,  and  the  heavy 
shadows  cast  by  their  overlapping  edges 
maintain,  even  from  a  distance,  the  rugged 
aspect  of  the  construction. 

As  the  building  has  but  one  story,  and 
no  window  is  necessary  above  the  porch, 
the  raised  lattice  in  the  gable  is  purely 
decorative.  It  is  built  on  a  heavy  cross- 
piece  and  six  uprights  and  suggests  the 
exposed  timber  construction  found  in  the 
roof,  the  window-casings  and  the  porch. 
This  gives  the  decoration  the  added  charm 
of  consistency.  Furthermore,  the  lattice 
completes  a  pleasing  proportion  of  spaces 
on  the  front  of  the  house.  In  merely  a 
passing  glance  the  eye  is  conscious  of  the 
harmony  between  the  narrow  cobblestone 
parapet,  the  broad  shadow  of  the  porch 
opening,  the  rough  space  of  clapboarding 
and  the  darker  area  of  the  lattice.  A 
similar  proportion  is  found  in  the  intervals 
between  the  exposed  roof  supports. 

The  sharp  corners  of  the  porch  opening 
are  blunted  by  two  beams  running  diag- 
onally from  the  box  pillars  that  support 
the  porch  roof  to  the  porch  ceiling,  and  the 
general  outline  is  softened  by  a  rich  cur- 
tain of  vines.  The  porck  is  under  the  main 
roof  so  that  the  pillars  covered  with  the 
same  siding  have  the  novel  appearance  of 
being  a  continuation  of  the  front  wall  of 
the  house.  It  has  a  concrete  floor  and  is 
ceiled  with  narrow  pine  boards  left  in  the 
natural  color  and  varnished.  The  entire 
building  is  stained  a  moss  green. 

Within,  the  house  is  quite  as  attractive 
as  without.  The  living  room,  dining  room 
and  the  den,  connected  with  the  latter  by 
sliding  doors,  are  floored  with  selected 
Oregon  pine  stained  to  give  the  effect  of 
Flemish  oak.  The  ceilings  are  finished 
with  plaster  between  the  box  beams,  which 
are  set  four  feet  apart. 

The  fireplace  in  the  living  room  is  very 
simple ;  the  hearth  is  of  square  tiles ;  the 
chimneypiece  of  red  brick  with  a  shelf  of 


222 


■M''''  '■■'"^i^^iiji 


i-^^'i-j 


C.  W .  Bitch'inim.  Architect 


A    CI-AlM!n.\HO   BUNtJALOW   OF   I'.Mi.SUAI.I.Y    IXTERESTINC   TIMIIEK 
CONSTKL'CTIOJJ,    THE    HOME   OF    MR,    FURROWS    OF    PASADENA. 

PORCH    OF    THE    BUNGALOW,    SHOWING    BOX    PILLARS    AND    COB- 
BLESTONE   PARAPET. 


SHOWINC     IXTERKSTIM.     KFFEC  r     iH      IHMM.     kiiiM     RAISEH 
SKVKKAI.   FEET  ABOVE  LIVING  ROOM    KIJiOR. 

SIMPLE   CONSTRUCTION    OF    FIREPLACE    AT    ONE    ENI}    OF    THE 
I.IVINC,    ROOM. 


HOW  «« MISSION"   FURNITURE   WAS  NAMED 


thick  pine  board.  The  little  casements  on 
either  side  of  the  chimneypiece  with  built- 
in  seats  below  add  a  great  deal  to  the 
interest  of  that  end  of  the  room. 

The  dining  room  has  the  novelty  of 
being  raised  a  step  or  two  above  the  living 
room.  As  is  usual  in  such  an  arrange- 
ment, the  length  of  the  two  rooms  is 
emphasized.  It  is  the  more  attractive  in 
this  case  because  the  porch,  a  good-sized 
room  in  itself,  opens  directly  into  the  living 
room.  Thus  a  very  pretty  vista  is  got 
from  either  end.  The  dining  room  is 
made  especially  effective  by  the  amount  of 
woodwork  in  it,  which  gives  it  a  character 
of  its  own  and  makes  the  necessary  con- 
trast to  the  room  above  which  it  is  raised. 
It  is  wainscoted  with  V- jointed  boards  to 
the  ceiling,  which  is  rough  plastered  and 
tinted  a  golden  brown.  Except  for  the 
wainscoting  in  the  dining  room,  the  in- 
terior walls  are  all  plastered  and  tinted. 
The  sideboard,  about  ten  feet  in  width,  is 
built  in  and  runs  from  floor  to  ceiling;  the 
doors  are  of  leaded  glass.  The  glint  of 
glass,  as  one  looks  into  the  room,  is  pleas- 


antly repeated  by  the  doors  of  the  book- 
cases, also  built  in  and  running  between 
the  square  pillars  on  either  side  of  the 
steps  and  the  narrow  partitions  between 
the  living  room  and  dining  room. 

The  arrangement  of  the  rest  of  the 
house  is  given  in  plan  and  shows  its 
delightful  roominess  and  ample  allowance 
for  closets  of  every  description.  The 
kitchen  and  bathroom  are  finished  with 
white  enamel. 

In  view  of  the  beauty  and  comfort  of 
this  little  house,  the  tabulation  of  cost 
given  below  amounts  to  a  surprisingly 
small  total: 

Lumber $700.00 

Carpenter  Labor 660.00 

Mill  Work 350.00 

Paint  and  Stain 250.00 

Masonry  and  Plaster 422.00 

Hardware 110.00 

Electric  Work 45  -oo 

Tin  and  Galvanized  Iron.       50.00 
Plumbing 330.00 

Total $2917.00 


HOW  "MISSION"  FURNITURE  WAS  NAMED 


PEOPLE  often  ask  about  the  origin 
of  "mission"  furniture  and  how  it 
came  by  that  name.     The  general 
belief  is  that  the  first  pieces  were 
discovered  in  the  California  Missions  and 
that  these  served  as  models   for  all  the 
"mission"  furniture  which  followed. 

This  is  an  interesting  story,  but  the 
fact  is  no  less  interesting,  because  of  the 
commercial  cleverness  that  saw  and  took 
instant  advantage  of  the  power  of  a  more 
or  less  sentimental  association.  The  real 
origin  of  "mission"  furniture  is  this:  A 
number  of  years  ago  a  manufacturer 
made  two  very  clumsy  chairs,  the  legs  of 
which  were  merely  three-inch  posts,  the 
backs  straight,  and  the  whole  construc- 
tion crude  to  a  degree.  They  were  shown 
at  a  spring  exhibition  of  furniture,  where 
they  attracted  a  good  deal  of  attention  as 
a  novelty.  It  was  just  at  the  time  that 
the    California    Missions    were    exciting 


much  attention,  and  a  clever  Chicago 
dealer,  seeing  the  advertising  value  that 
lay  in  the  idea,  bought  both  pieces  and 
advertised  them  as  having  been  found  in 
the  California  Missions. 

Another  dealer,  who  pxjssesses  a  genius 
for  inventing  or  choosing  exactly  the 
right  name  for  a  thing,  saw  these  chairs 
and  was  inspired  with  the  idea  that  it  would 
be  a  good  thing  to  make  a  small  line  of 
this  furniture  and  name  it  "mission"  fur- 
niture. The  illusion  was  carried  out  by 
the  fact  that  he  put  a  Maltese  cross 
wherever  it  would  go,  between  the  rails 
of  the  back  and  down  at  the  sides ;  in 
fact,  it  was  woven  into  the  construction 
so  that  it  was  the  prominent  feature  and 
naturally  increased  the  belief  in  the  ec- 
clesiastical origin  of  the  chair.  The 
mingling  of  novelty  and  romance  instant- 
ly pleased  the  public,  and  the  vogue  of 
"mission"  furniture  was  assured. 


225 


THE  AUBUSSON  LOOMS:  WHERE  AMERICAN 
TAPESTRIES  ARE  DESIGNED  AND  WOVEN  BY 
AN  AMERICAN  ARTIST,  ALBERT  HERTER 


ROMANCE  was  the  real  tliread  with 
which  the  wonderful  tapestries  of 
the  Renaissance  were  woven.  To 
be  sure,  there  were  minstrels  in 
those  days  to  sing  tales  of  honorable  ad- 
venture to  the  hero  of  the  feast,  and  trou- 
badours to  mention  feats  of  daring  in 
lingering  cadences  below  casements  half 
closed,  and  oratorical  poets  for  continuous 
performances  after  tournaments  and  bat- 
tles. But  these  musical  and  poetical  pre- 
sentations were  but  the  masculine  point  of 
view  toward  the  making  of  adventurous 
history.  It  was  in  the  hand-wrought 
tapestries  of  Medieval  times  that  the  gen- 
tler romances  were  told,  woven  in  quaint 
grotesque  expression  by  the  women  who 
saw  life  from  castle  windows  or  from  the 
high  set  dais.  In  these  faded  sketches  of 
Mediaeval  times  one  sees  not  merely  the 
bold  warrior  who  rode  away  to  joyous 
deeds  of  pillage  and  high  carnage ;  it  is 
rather  the  lover,  the  valiant  soul,  the  man 
who  left  warm  kisses  on  weeping  eyes, 
that  the  lady  wove  through  the  long  spirit- 
less days  of  loneliness  in  her  high  tower. 
If  she  were  but  young  enough,  she  found 
threads  of  color  sufficiently  beautiful  to 
portray  the  knight  of  her  heart  who  went 
forth  to  right  wrong,  to  help  the  weak, 
to  battle  bravely  for  the  ribbon  he  wore, 
taken  from  her  long  braids.  And  so  she 
wove  from  the  design  in  her  heart,  and 
the  tapestry  which  by  and  by  was  to  hang 
on  the  castle  wall   shows  her  lord   forth 

226 


as  a  true  hero,  and  not  the  roisterer,  the 
bloody  chieftain,  the  cruel  tyrant  he  had 
been  painted  and  sung  by  the  other  men 
of  strife.  Or  perhaps  it  is  a  boy  who  is 
the  central  figure  of  a  more  delicate 
tapestry,  a  boy  clanking  his  sword  gaily, 
singing  exultingly  of  the  fray,  longing  for 
that  experience  which  he  has  never  lived 
and  which  the  weaver  of  tapestries  has 
so  dreaded.  And  we  know  from  the 
beauty  and  the  courage  and  the  splendid- 
ness of  the  lad  that  he  is  the  first-born 
of  the  lady  who  wove  him  into  her  picture 
with  sighs  and  memories  of  his  cradle 
beauty  and  the  fancy  that  the  hand  at  the 
sword  was  still  clinging  to  her  neck  with 
a  little  child's  first  heart-break. 

For  women  who  live  far  from  other 
womenkind,  who  know  men  only  as  war- 
riors or  lovers,  whose  man-child  is  with- 
drawn as  soon  as  he  grows  into  gentle 
chivalry,  women  who  may  not  toil  for 
themselves  or  for  others,  such  must  ex- 
press much  of  the  inner  sentiment  of  life 
in  whatever  medium  is  allowed  their 
fancy.  And  so  we  turn  to  the  old  tapes- 
tries of  those  bygone  days  for  the  real 
stories  of  joy  and  sorrow,  of  tenderness 
and  tragedy,  which  the  women  found  in 
those  times  of  great  romance  and,  for 
them,  great  reticence  and  deprivation.  And 
also  in  the  tapestries  we  find  all  the  sense 
of  beauty  that  these  isolated  women  gain- 
ed from  watching  the  stars  on  nights 
when  sons  or  lovers  did  not  come  back; 


w?' 


,,,,JIII 


m 


ES 


t^ 


i 


1\MI  (IKTAINs  i>l'  l\  1  l-KI'.STINI.  THiHi.ll  M  M  I'l.K  DKSICN'S 
I'UdM  TIIK  Arill'SSllN  I.DOMS:  liKSll.iNS  AMI  (illWiKlil IS  C'lU.OU 
SI  IIUMKS    AI;K    IIY    AI.UKKT    IIKKTKK. 


LOOMS  FOR  AMERICAN  TAPESTRIES 


from  the  return  of  spring;  from  the  rare 
sweetness  of  midsummer  days  in  gardens 
behind  wide  moats;  and,  too,  all  they 
dared  hope  of  true  devotion,  of  faithful- 
ness, was  gathered  up  in  the  many-color- 
ed threads  and  held  as  a  witness  to  their 
pride  in  the  men  of  the  castle  and  to  their 
joy  in  adorning  it.  But  it  is  not  only  the 
beauty  of  color  and  the  most  excellent 
craftsmanship  of  these  old  tapestries 
which  stimulate  our  interest,  there  is  also 
an  intimate  sense  of  a  personal  confidence 
received,  and  it  is  this  which  renders  the 
imitation  of  such  work  a  foolish  travesty 
and  an  impertinence  to  art  and  sentiment. 

And  so  as  we  move  from  one  condition 
of  civilization  to  another,  we  desire  in  the 
craftwork  of  each  country  and  generation 
this  same  intimate  expression  of  the  in- 
dividuality of  the  person  and  the  nation; 
of  the  different  life  and  the  personality 
which  grows  out  of  the  nation ;  and  we 
are  mainly  interested  in  such  expression 
as  the  record  of  the  sentiment  of  the  times. 
But  to  imitate  merely  the  symbol  of  this 
sentiment  is  to  lose  its  original  value  and 
to  leave  it  a  vacant  spiritless  thing. 

Today  here  in  America  a  few  of  us  have 
at  last  grown  to  understand  this  truth,  that 
the  art  of  each  day  is  but  the  adequate 
expression  of  the  intimacies  of  a  period, 
that  to  deserve  a  place  in  the  art  archives 
of  the  world  we  must  portray  our  lives, 
our  own  sentiment  about  life  in  our  hand- 
icrafts as  well  as  in  our  more  illusive  arts. 
If  we  are  to  have  American  tapestries 
they  must  be  woven  out  of  American  ro- 
mance, the  warp  and  woof  must  be  the 
experience  of  the  life  we  know,  our  own 
impressions  of  beauty  in  relation  to  this 
life.  And  there  is  more  beauty  at  hand 
than  the  most  ardent  of  us  has  ever 
dreamed  of  in  this  new  country.  It  is  blind- 
ness, not  lack  of  beauty,  that  we  have 
suffered  from.  To  be  sure,  in  a  small  way 
some  of  the  American  craftsmen  have 
commenced  to  appreciate  the  value  of  this 
native  beauty  in  the  creation  of  distinctive 
expression  in  American  crafts.  Our  pot- 
tery, some  of  our  rugs,  most  of  our 
stained  glass  work,   are   really  beautiful 


records  of  certain  fundamentals  of  our 
civilization. 

It  has  been  difficult  to  establish  a  well 
regulated  commercial  basis  for  the  pre- 
sentation of  our  industrial  work  to  the 
world,  and  yet  this  financial  basis  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  the  success  of  crafts- 
manship in  this  country,  where  the  dilet- 
tante spirit  in  art  is  necessarily  small.  We 
may  work  behind  a  casement  window  if 
our  taste  so  inclines  us,  but  more  often 
than  not  the  product  of  our  looms  may 
not  even  decorate  the  low  walls  of  our 
little  castles;  instead,  our  craftsman  us- 
ually must  spin  that  he  and  the  landlord 
may  not  part  company.  Here  in  America 
we  have  developed  an  economic  condition 
of  self-supporting  individuals.  Little  by 
little  groups  of  these  individuals  here  and 
there  have  grown  to  prefer  to  gain  this 
support  by  a  willingness  and  ability  to  do 
the  beautiful  things  possible  in  this  coun- 
try for  the  people  who  would  like  to  have 
them.  And  this  necessitates  a  commer- 
cial basis  for  the  success  of  industrial  art 
conditions.  A  better  thing  for  the  country 
could  scarcely  be  imagined  than  a  proper 
standard  for  commercializing  industrial 
art,  making  it  sufficiently  remunerative  for 
people  to  do  creative  things  beautifully 
and  yet  keeping  the  prices  within  such 
boundaries  that  the  appreciative,  who  are 
not  always  the  rich,  may  find  it  possible 
to  have  only  articles  which  are  interest- 
ing and  beautiful  in  their  homes. 

Mainly  here  in  America  we  prefer  to- 
imagine  ourselves  very  elegant,  we  have  a 
"personal  aristocracy."  (I  believe  this  is 
the  way  we  put  it.)  "Not  mere  titles,  but 
something  even  a  shade  finer," — if  we 
were  only  quite  frank  about  it.  And  many 
of  us  create  a  separate  patent  of  nobility 
for  our  own  interest  according  to  our  own 
individuality.  We  isolate  ourselves  by  a 
proud  scorn  of  work.  However  vague 
we  may  be  about  hereditary  legislation, 
we  have  a  phrase  called  "the  real  lady," 
which  becomes  the  shibboleth  of  personal 
aristocracy.  And  our  "real  lady"  never 
works.  Here  is  where  we  establish  the 
final    last   barrier   and    create    our    aris- 

229 


LOOMS  FOR  AMERICAN  TAPESTRIES 


tocracy  of  idleness;  and  very  largely  up 
to  the  present  time  this  aristocracy  has 
been  somewhat  scornful  of  the  indus- 
trial arts.  They  seemed  pretty  common, 
derived  from  the  word  industry,  compared 
with  the  more  useless  arts,  and  we  didn't 
think  very  much  about  them  except  to 
classify  them. 

And  so  when  a  man  like  Albert  Herter, 
a  painter  of  achievement,  suddenly  with- 
out saying  anything  much  about  it,  fills 
up  a  number  of  rooms  with  cotton  and 
silk  threads  and  dye  pots  and  looms 
and  starts  in  creating  new  designs  for 
American  tapestries,  we  are  somewhat 
astonished.  And  those  of  us  who  do 
not  think  wonder  why  an  artist  should 
go  in  for  the  work  of  the  artisan. 
And  then  we  learn  that  Mr.  Herter  not 
only  creates  his  own  designs,  but  that  he 
has  no  old-world  methods,  that  his  ideas 
are  new,  practical  and  beautiful,  adapted 
to  the  more  simple  American  way  of  liv- 
ing, worked  out  in  colors  which  are  suited 
to  our  own  climate,  to  the  woods  with 
which  we  furnish  our  interiors,  to  our 
kind  of  beauty  which  springs  from  asso- 
ciation with  brilliant  skies  and  gorgeous 
autumns  and  flaming  midsummers,  and  we 
are  surprised  to  hear  that  his  textures  are 
durable,  of  the  kind  which  nice  people 
crave  where  beauty  is  involved.  And 
slowly  we  begin  to  forget  our  vulgar  aris- 
tocratic pretensions  and  we  wonder  if 
there  isn't  somewhere  a  fine  height  of 
democratic  level,  a  height  of  beauty  and 
a  wide  level  of  interest  in  it. 

We  have  a  sentimental  idea  that  Mr. 
Herter  is  doing  in  his  own  way  what  the 
tapestry  weavers  did  in  the  old  moated 
granges.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr. 
Herter's  first  experiments  with  weaving 
were  made  because  he  could  not  find  the 
sort  of  draperies  with  which  he  wished 
to  furnish  his  own  home.  He  wanted 
modern  things  for  a  modern  house,  not 
anticiue  or  imitation  antique,  or  any  crazy 
^^rt  Nouveaii  designs,  just  beautiful  mate- 
rials in  rich  tones  suited  to  the  way  he 
thought  and  lived.  And  he  had  to  make 
them.    There  were  none  in  America.    He 


could  find  beautiful  stained  glass  win- 
dows, gorgeous  as  a  New  England  autumn 
day,  and  pottery  in  the  tones  which  sug- 
gest the  soil  which  feeds  the  roots  of  our 
oak  and  maple,  sumac  and  woodbine;  and 
here  and  there  he  discovered  a  rug  that 
was  simple  and  in  harmony  with  the  ideal 
he  had  set  himself,  but  no  draperies,  noth- 
ing for  doorways  or  chair  covering  to  be 
found  anywhere  in  the  country.  And  so 
from  the  richness  of  an  imagination  which 
has  always  been  open  to  all  the  fresh 
beauty  of  his  own  land  and  with  a  prac- 
tical American  mind  that  would  have  only 
such  measure  of  labor  and  expense  as 
suited  his  purpose,  he  began  making  car- 
toons for  his  draperies ;  he  dyed  strands 
of  cotton  and  silk,  gathered  together  his 
gold  threads,  found  a  few  French  artisans 
who  had  seen  hand  looms  before,  and  his 
new  venture  was  under  way. 

The  result  is,  so  far  as  the  writer  knows, 
a  totally  new  expression  of  beauty  in  in- 
dustrial art  for  this  country,  and  tlie  prod- 
uct of  the  looms  so  far  seems  to  be  signif- 
icant, vital  and  native.  The  Aubusson 
Looms,  Mr.  Herter  calls  his  workshops, 
but  sooner  or  later  they  are  bound  to  be 
known  as  the  Herter  Looms ;  because  the 
title  he  has  given  them  means  merely  that 
he  is  using  somewhat  the  same  looms,  the 
"low  warp,"  which  are  characteristic  of 
the  manufacturies  at  Aubusson.  But  the 
significant  fact  to  the  American  people^  is 
that  Mr.  Herter  created  this  industry,  orig- 
inating designs  and  overseeing  their  execu- 
tion. Up  to  the  present  time  the  work  of 
the  "Herter  looms"  is  most  interestingly 
suggestive  of  characteristics  which  we  have 
grown  to  definitely  associate  with  the 
American  idea.  One  might  designate  these 
draperies  as  informal  in  expression,  for 
Mr.  Herter  has  no  restrictions  as  to  mate- 
rials or  combinations  of  materials,  as  to 
colors  or  color  combinations,  so  that  the 
effect  of  the  work  is  fearless,  audacious 
— witness  the  splashes  of  gold  and  the 
startling  accents  of  black.  An  immense 
variation  of  texture  is  acquired  by  dyeing 
a  variety  of  threads  with  the  same  dye; 
smooth    threads   and    rough    threads,    the 


230 


LOOMS  FOR  AMERICAN  TAPESTRIES 


finished  silk  and  the  raw  silk  in  the  same 
tone  bring  out  the  suggestion  of  variation 
in  color.  And  then  beside  this,  there  is 
variation  in  the  spinning  of  the  threads 
and  combinations  of  cotton  with  silk,  or 
wool  with  linen,  whatever  suggests  itself 
to  Mr.  Herter  as  significant  in  texture 
he  does  freely.  He  not  only  is  familiar 
with  the  spinning  of  the  threads,  but  he 
oversees  all  the  dyeing,  so  that  he  has 
the  opportunity  of  investigation  and  of 
seizing  upon  all  the  extraordinary  beauty 
which  is  so  often  the  result  of  accident, 
the  unexpected  development  of  the  labora- 
tory. Gold  threads,  bright  or  dull,  he 
uses  freely  with  cotton  or  silk,  as  the  case 
may  be.  There  are  no  traditions  or  for- 
mulas to  hold  back  his  hand;  he  permits 
himself  a  new  sensation  of  beauty  as  often 
as  possible.  The  simplest  stufi's  he  de- 
lights to  weave  into  tapestry  with  such 
gorgeousness  of  effect  in  color  and  tex- 
ture that  there  is  an  association  in  the 
mind  with  the  sort  of  outdoor  beauty 
which  here  in  America  we  have  become 
accustomed  to  find  stimulating. 

It  is  really  wonderful,  the  sheen,  the 
sense  of  the  vibration  of  light,  which  Mr. 
Herter  has  achieved  in  his  textures,  not 
by  expense,  but  by  experience,  by  under- 
standing all  the  whimsical  expression  pos- 
sible in  his  threads,  his  dyes  and  looms. 
And  yet  there  is  nothing  whimsical  in  the 
execution.  There  is  a  sense  of  purpose  in 
his  designs  and  in  his  color;  not  the  weav- 
ing of  an  endless  chain  of  incidents,  as 
was  the  habit  of  the  Medieval  weavers, 
but  with  the  definite  intention  of  express- 
ing in  the  form  and  in  the  color  the  pur- 
pose for  which  the  tapestries  are  made ; 
that  is,  modern  American  life  with  often 
great  culture  of  mind  and  simplicity  of 
daily  life.  The  effect  of  the  work  is  as 
far  removed  from  crudeness  as  is  the 
beauty  of  an  opal  matrix,  or  the  subtle 
diffusion  of  color  in  a  peacock  feather, 
and  yet  there  is  always  a  suggestion  of 
brilliancy,  of  vital  lasting  tone,  something 
to  remember,  something  stimulating,  but 
well  adjusted  in  spite  of  its  insistence.  In 
a  single  drapery  you  may  find  "sentences" 


in  rose  bloom,  repeated  exclamation  points 
of  gold,  vehement  adjectives  in  black,  and 
so  the  story  is  told. 

And  yet  with  all  the  originality  shown 
in  these  new  tapestries,  I  am  sure  Mr. 
Herter  is  not  conscious  of  trying  to  create 
novelties  or  to  originate  an  eccentricity 
which  the  public  will  recognize.  He  is  not 
apparently  endeavoring  to  impress  his  own 
personality  upon  his  work  and  to  create 
Herter  tones  or  Herter  designs.  There  is 
no  overreaching  either  for  audacity  or  mor- 
bid restraint,  but  a  just  appreciation  of 
light  and  shadow.  Having  given  up  for- 
eign traditions,  Mr.  Herter  is  not  seeking 
to  establish  new  ones  for  America. 

The  work  of  these  looms  is  realistic  in 
so  much  as  it  is  fresh,  spontaneous,  a  part 
of  the  beauty  one  feels  akin  to.  It  is  im- 
pressionistic, as  it  suggests  rather  than 
instructs.  It  is  so  far  away  from  the  Art 
Nouveau  twists  and  tangles  and  impotent 
involutions  that  it  cannot  fail  to  carry  a 
blessing  of  sanity  to  the  wholesome  mind- 
ed. A  single  curtain  or  rug  never  seems 
crowded  or  over-colored  and  you  never 
have  a  sense  of  exhaustion  from  an  appre- 
hension of  too  much  labor  for  a  result. 
In  scheme  of  execution  the  work  rather 
recalls  the  methods  of  the  Spanish  painter, 
Sorolla,  the  seeing  clearly  and  definitely 
what  he  wanted  to  do,  and  the  achieving 
of  it  capably  and  swiftly. 

The  looms  are  at  present  running  in  a 
picturesque  old  studio  just  east  of  Fifth 
Avenue,  and  the  workmen,  in  spite  of  the 
American  quality  of  the  product,  are  main- 
ly Frenchmen  (for  in  America  as  a  rule 
our  good  craftsmen  are  all  poor  painters). 

Mr.  Herter  has  not  given  up  his  work 
as  a  painter  of  glorious  color  and  rare 
decorative  quality.  His  mornings  are 
spent  in  his  studio  before  his  easel,  but 
his  afternoons  are  given  over  to  the  looms, 
examining  threads,  testing  colors  and  fol- 
lowing the  weaving  or  designing  patterns 
that  will  enable  him  to  bring  out  of  his 
looms  such  splendor  of  color  and  beauty 
of  texture  as  only  the  craftsmen  of  the 
Orient,  of  old  Japan  or  Mediaeval  Spain 
have  ever  dreamed  of. 


23  T 


BATIK,  OR  THE  WAX  RESIST  PROCESS:  BY  PRO 
FESSOR  CHARLES   E.  PELLEW  OF   COLUMBIA 
UNIVERSITY:  NUMBER  XI 


General. — \\  liile  trjiiig,  as  described  in 
the  last  paper,  to  work  out  a  satisfactory 
resist  stencil  paste  for  some  of  my  crafts- 
men friends,  my  attention  was  called  to 
the  process  known  and  practiced  in  the 
East  for  hundreds  of  years,  where  pat- 
terns were  produced  on  cloth  by  the  use, 
as  a  resist,  of  molten  beeswax.  Thanks  to 
a  friend  who  had  studied  the  process  in 
Java,  some  idea  was  obtained  of  the  simple 
apparatus  used  by  the  natives  and  of  the 
possibilities  of  the  process.  We  soon  de- 
signed some  more  or  less  satisfactory 
tjentaiigs  or,  as  we  called  them,  "teapots," 
for  pouring  and  spreading  the  wax  on  the 
cloth,  and  in  a  very  few  days  some  of  my 
friends  were  amusing  themselves  by  ex- 
perimenting, more  or  less  successfully, 
with  this  ancient  process  adapted  to  mod- 
ern dyestufifs. 

During  the  past  year  this  process  has 
been  attracting  a  great  deal  of  attention 
both  in  this  coimtry  and  Europe.  Several 
articles  have  appeared  in  the  journals, 
schools  of  Batik  have  been  started  in 
Europe,  and  much  interesting  work 
has  been  turned  out  from  them,  while  in 
New  York  a  small  but  energetic  firm  has 
been  actively  pushing  the  sale  and  use  of 
a  new  apparatus  to  replace  the  ancient 
tjentang,  and  has  been  widely  demonstrat- 
ing the  possibilities  of  the  art  as  applied 
to  a  great  variety  of  handicraft  work. 

Historical. — The  Batik,  or  wax  resist 
process,  has  been  known  and  used  on  a 
large  scale  in  the  East  for  a  very  long 
period.  In  Madras  one  variety  of  the 
process  was  in  use  at  least  five  hundred 
years  ago  for  making  the  beautiful  and 
interesting  Palauipoor  goods,  and  in  Java, 
where  the  greatest  development  of  the 
process  has  taken  place,  there  exist  far  in 
the  interior  some  famous  Buddhist  ruins, 
supposed  to  be  1200  or  1300  years  old. 
containing  sculptured  figures  clothed  in 
sarongs  ornamented  with  Batik,  almost,  if 
not  quite,  identical  with  the  garments  ami 
patterns  used  at  the  present  day. 


During  the  last  few  years  careful  studies 
have  been  made  of  the  process,  and  the 
Dutch  Government,  especially,  has  en- 
deavored with  considerable  success  to  in- 
troduce it  into  Europe.  It  was  amusing 
to  notice  that  in  one  of  the  reports  issued 
by  the  Dutch  Government  on  this  subject 
it  was  stated  that  none  of  the  modern  dye- 
stuffs  could  be  utilized  for  this  purpose, 
and  that  the  only  colors  that  could  be  rec- 
ommended as  fast  to  light  were  the  old 
vegetable  dyestuffs  applied  in  the  compli- 
cated and  troublesome  methods  of  past 
ages.  This  curiously  unscientific  attitude 
has  seriously  interfered  with  the  success 
of  the  process  in  Western  lands  and  is 
only  now  being  abandoned. 

A  great  mass  of  detailed  information 
about  the  history,  technique  and  designs 
of  the  Javanese  process  has  been  set  down 
in  a  monumental  work:  "Die  Batik-kunst 
in  Niederlandisch  Indien,"  published  by 
the  Dutch  Government  in  1899.  Perhaps 
of  more  interest  to  the  non-scientific 
reader  is  a  short  but  well  written  account 
of  "Battack  Printing  in  Java,"  read  before 
the  Manchester  Literary  and  Philosophical 
Society  in  1906  by  an  English  chemist, 
John  Allan,  who  spent  several  months 
among  the  natives,  studying  the  process  at 
first-hand. 

According  to  these  authorities  the  Java- 
nese and,  indeed,  most  of  the  natives  of 
Malaysia,  wear  garments  simple  enough  in 
style  and  cut,  but  elaborately  decorated 
with  great  variety  of  color  and  design. 
The  principal  garment,  common  to  both 
men  and  women,  is  the  sarong,  in  .shape 
not  unlike  a  large  and  elongated  bath 
towel,  which,  according  to  the  desire  and 
sex  of  the  owner,  may  be  made  to  serve  as 
trousers  or  skirt,  overcoat  or  blanket,  and 
is  the  universal  bathing  costume.  It  is 
made  of  calico,  generally  from  Lancashire 
or  Holland,  and  as  the  natives,  both  men 
and  women,  are  exceedingly  fond  of  bath- 
ing,   the   colors   must   be    fast  enough   to 


^y- 


A   REVIVAL   OF   BATIK   DECORATION 


stand  constant  exposure  to  water  as  well 
as  to  the  fierce  tropical  sun. 

They  also  wear  head-dresses  made  from 
squares  of  calico,  dyed  with  square  centers 
of  plain  color  and  elaborately  decorated 
outside ;  and  slendangs,  a  kind  of  girdle  or 
shawl,  usually  made  of  silk  and  less  elabo- 
rate in  decoration.  The  costume  is  com- 
pleted for  full  dress  occasions  by  a  thin 
shirt  or  chemise  and  a  light  jacket. 

For  producing  the  designs  on  the 
sarongs,  the  process  of  wax  resist  is  gen- 
erally employed.  But  the  slendangs  and 
expensive  garments  made  of  silk  are  often 
ornamented  by  a  different  process.  The 
design  is  applied  directly  to  them,  practi- 
cally painted  on,  by  pressing  the  color  to 
the  fabric  from  collapsible  tubes  with  dif- 
ferent sized  orifices,  the  colors  being  fixed. 
probably,  by  steaming  afterward.  This 
process  is  often  combined  with  the  wax 
process,  but  not  necessarily. 

The  Batik  process,  as  usually  meant,  is 
a  means  of  dyeing  in  which,  before  im- 
mersing the  goods  in  the  dye  pot.  the  pat- 
terns are  carefully  drawn  in  molten  bees- 
wax, applied  from  a  little  copper  cup  with 
a  fine  spout  called,  as  before  mentioned,  a 
tjentang.  Frequently,  however,  to  save 
time,  the  wax  is  applied  by  a  metal  die  or 
block,  made  by  inserting  thin  strips  of 
sheet  brass  in  a  wooden  frame  so  that  the 
edges  of  the  brass  form  the  desired  pat- 
tern. These  blocks,  provided  with  a  handle 
covered  with  cloth,  are  first  dipped  into 
the  molten  wax,  and  then  the  excess  is 
removed  by  pressing  against  a  pad,  which 
is  kept  warm  by  being  near  the  fire  of  the 
melting  pot.  The  pattern  is  thus  stamped 
onto  the  cloth  instead  of  being  poured  on 
from  a  small  spout  out  of  a  cup. 

In  India  the  wax  resist  is  often  com- 
bined with  block  printing,  and  it  is  per- 
fectly easy  to  apply  the  wax  through  a 
stencil,  either  with  a  brush  or  from  a 
tjentang,  or  to  get  reverse  effects  by  cut- 
ting out  a  pattern  in  stiff  cardboard  or 
thin  metal,  as,  for  instance,  sheet  lead,  and 
then,  using  this  as  a  templet,  pouring  or 
painting  the   wax  around   it,   leavinsr  the 


pattern   in  the  original  cloth,  to  be  dyed 
later. 

The  wax  used  in  Java  for  pouring  is 
generally  a  mixture  of  paraffin  and  bees- 
wax or  an  impure  wax  imported  from 
Japan  for  this  purpose.  For  stamping  the 
patterns  it  is  necessary  to  use  a  stiffer  wax 
made  from  rosin  and  paraffin,  sometimes 
mixed  with  varnish  gums. 

The  principal  colors  used  in  Java  are 
indigo  blue  and  a  beautiful  golden-brown 
dye  made  from  the  bark  of  the  mango  tree. 
The  combination  of  these  gives  a  black,  so 
that  the  fine  old  sarongs  usually  contain 
white,  blue,  brown  and  black.    The  indigo 
is  applied  first,  and  all  the  cloth  excepting 
that  which  is  to  come  out  blue  or  black  is 
carefully  covered  with  the  wax.    After  the 
indigo  bath  (the  Javanese  use  a  fermenta- 
tion vat)  the  color  is  set  by  oxidation.  The 
old  wax  is  then  all  washed  off  with  boiling 
soap  and  water,  and  after  drying,  the  wax 
is  again  applied  to  all  parts,  whether  white 
or  blue,  which  are  not  to  receive  the  brown 
dye.     The  latter  is  made  from  a  strong, 
syrupy  extract  of  mangrove  bark,  and  is 
used  without  mordanting,  the  color  being 
set  by  exposure  to  air.    As  the  dyes  must 
be  used  cold  to  avoid  melting  and  obliterat- 
ing  the    pattern,    the   goods   are    usually 
dipped  and  exposed  several  times  in  each 
bath  before   reaching  the  desired   shade. 
After  the  final  dyeing  the  wax  is  removed 
by  a  hot  bath  of  wood  ashes  or  soap,  and 
the  garment  is  pressed  out  ready  to  wear. 
When   it   is  desired,  the  natives  use   a 
variation  of  the  old  Turkey  red  process, 
dyeing  with  madder  root  upon  cloth  mor- 
danted with  alum  and  oil.     The  wax  in 
this  case  acts  as  a  resist  against  the  alum 
mordant,  which  is  applied  cold,  and  thus 
prevents  the  dyestuff,  which  is  applied  at 
the  boil,   from  coloring  the  cloth   in   the 
protected  portions. 

The  peculiarity  of  all  these  Batik  goods, 
whether  from  the  East  or  made  at  home  or 
in  Europe,  is  the  characteristic  "crinkled" 
effect,  due  to  the  breaking  of  the  wax  upon 
the  cloth  in  the  process  of  dyeing,  thereby 
admitting  the  color  to  t!ie  protected  cloth 
in  fine  lines  and  streak-.  This  distinguishes 

233 


A   REVIVAL   OF  BATIK  DECORATION 


the  wax  resist  work  from  the  previously 
described  paste  resist,  which  if  desired  will 
leave  a  smooth,  clean,  white  background, 
or  if  applied  more  lightly  will  give  back- 
grounds shaded  uniformly  and  without 
irregular  lines  of  color. 

Modern  Batik  Work. — The  application 
of  the  artificial  dyestufts  to  this  ancient 
process  has  simplified  it  greatly  and  has 
brought  it  within  the  scope  of  craftsmen 
in  general. 

Apparatus. — For  the  more  or  less 
mechanical  application  of  wax  to  cloth 
through  stencils  or  around  patterns  cut 
out  of  cardboard  or  metal,  a  small-sized 
flat  paint  brush  is  all  that  is  necessary. 
The  wax  should  be  melted  in  a  cup  or 
casserole  and  painted  on. 

A  broader  and  in  some  respects  more 
interesting  field  is  open,  however,  to  those 
who  use  the  wax  to  produce  designs  free- 
hand, by  pouring  it  from  a  cup  with  a 
small  fine  spout.  In  using  either  the 
tjcntaug  or  "teapot"  a  great  deal  of  prac- 
tice is  needed  to  get  good  results.  The 
heat  must  be  carefully  gauged,  for  if  too 
hot  the  wax  is  liable  to  run  over  every- 
thing, while  if  too  cold  it  will  either  not 
pour  at  all  or  run  irregularly.  The  chief 
difficulty  is  to  prevent  it  from  dripping 
and  forming  blots  and  splashes  when  not 
desired.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with 
the  native  implement,  and  can  hardly  be 
avoided  except  by  using  the  Javanese 
practice  of  hanging  the  cloth  over  a  frame 
while  working  on  it,  so  that  the  cloth  is 
almost  vertical  and  is  not  lying  horizontal. 
The  tjentang  should  be  held  in  one  hand 
and  the  cloth  pressed  out  to  meet  it  with 
the  other  hand  from  the  back,  while  if 
care  is  taken  any  drip  of  the  wax  will  fall 
down  to  the  floor  or  table  and  not  touch 
the  cloth. 

An  entirely  new  idea  has  recently  been 
applied  to  the  art  of  Batik  by  the  intro- 
duction of  a  (patented)  "wax  pencil," 
made  on  the  principle  of  the  early  stylo- 
graphic  pens.  This  tool  is  made  of  heavy 
brass,  with  a  removable  wooden  holder, 
and  the  wax,  in  cylinders,  is  shoved  into  it 
from  the  top  after  removing  a  cap.     To 


melt  the  wax  the  wooden  holder  is  slipped 
off  and  the  pencil  is  heated  over  a  flame  or 
on  a  hot  electric  plate,  while  the  liquid  wax 
is  prevented  from  flowing  out  by  a  "needle 
valve,"  held  in  place  by  a  small  spiral 
spring.  To  use  the  tool,  the  holder  is 
slipped  over  the  body,  taking  care  not  to 
burn  the  fingers  in  so  doing,  and  the  pat- 
tern is  traced  in  just  the  same  way  that  it 
would  be  in  ink,  pressure  on  the  projecting 
needle  tip  relieving  the  valve  and  permit- 
ting a  greater  or  lesser  flow  of  wax. 

These  instruments  have  the  great  advan- 
tage of  being  more  convenient  to  draw 
with  than  the  little  cups  or  "teapots"  and 
on  hard  surfaces,  such  as  leather,  wood, 
bone,  metal,  etc.,  will  make  patterns  of 
greater  or  less  complexity  with  care  and 
precision.  They  are  not  quite  so  satis- 
factory, so  far  as  our  experience  goes,  in 
drawing  on  textiles,  as  the  needle  point  is 
apt  to  catch  in  the  surface  and  spoil  the 
lines.  They  certainly  need  considerable 
practice  before  they  can  be  depended  upon 
and  it  is  a  question  whether,  for  cloth, 
they  are  much  of  an  imjirovement  over  the 
simpler  and  cheaper  tjcntangs. 

Composition  of  the  Wax. — For  satisfac- 
tory work  in  Batik,  a  great  deal  depends 
upon  the  composition  of  the  resist  ma- 
terials. Pure  paraffin,  while  useful  for 
brush  application,  is  valueless  for  drawing 
because  it  runs  too  freely,  acting  on  cloth 
much  as  ink  does  on  blotting  paper.  Bees- 
wax, on  the  other  hand,  when  at  the  proper 
temperature  runs  just  about  right,  but  it  is 
rather  too  soft  and  sticky  to  crackle  well, 
unless  in  very  cold  weather  or  when  ice  is 
used  in  the  dye  vat, — a  procedure  that  does 
not  assist  the  dyeing.  Besides  that,  bees- 
wax is  pretty  expensive  and.  although  it 
is  possible  to  recover  most  of  it  from  the 
boiling-oflf  kettle,  there  is  no  need  of 
spending  money  unnecessarily. 

As  a  substitute  for  beeswax  it  is  quite 
possible  to  use  the  much  cheaper  mineral 
wax  known  to  chemists  as  ozokerite,  and, 
in  its  refined  state,  such  as  is  best  to  use 
for  this  purpose,  as  ceresine.  This  can  be 
advantageously  mixed  with  paraffin,  espe- 
cially to  increase  its  crackling  properties. 


234 


INDIGO   STENCIL  PASTE 


and  should  have  some  rosin,  so  that  when 
on  large  surfaces  and  after  crackling  it 
will  adhere  to  the  cloth  and  not  break 
away  in  large  pieces.  We  have  not  made 
an  exhaustive  study  of  this  matter  so  far, 
but  have  found  a  mixture  of  one  part  of 
rosin,  three  or  four  of  paraffin  and  five  of 
beeswax  or  ceresine  will  give  very  fair 
results. 

Dyes. — I  need  scarcely  say  here  to  my 
readers  that  it  is  quite  unnecessary  now  to 
use  Vegetable  Dyes  for  obtaining  fast  and 
interesting  colors.  The  Sulphur  Dyes  or 
the  various  Vat  or  Indigo  Dyes  are  exceed- 
ingly fast  and  can  be  readily  applied  in  the 
cold  in  one  bath  to  both  cotton  and  linen. 
For  silk  the  Sulphur  Dyes  are  also  useful, 
if  the  goods  are  to  be  washed;  otherwise 
the  Acid  Dyes  or  the  Basic  Dyes  with 
acetic  acid  will  be  most  convenient. 

For  wood  it  is  probably  best  to  use  a 
solution  of  the  fast  Acid  Dyes  with  a  little 
acetic  or  formic  acid,  for  these  are  very 
fast  to  light,  and  penetrate  the  wood  better 
than  the  Basic  Dyes.  The  latter,  however, 
will  be  found  more  fast  to  washing.  These 
dyes  can  be  readily  applied  to  wood  with 
alcohol,  and  the  wax  can  be  taken  off  later 
with  a  hot  flatiron  and  blotting  paper  in- 
stead of  hot  water.  Leather  can  be  dyed 
in  this  same  way. 

Bone  can  be  easily  dyed  by  this  process. 
The  white  parts  are  covered  with  wax  or 
paraffin   and   then   before   dyeing  a   little 


acid — hydrochloric  or  sulphuric— diluted 
with  an  equal  amount  of  water,  is  brushed 
on,  or  the  bone  is  immersed  in  it  until  the 
unprotected  parts  are  distinctly  affected. 
If  then  immersed  in  a  bath  of  Acid  Dye, 
with  a  little  free  acetic  acid,  they  will  take 
the  dye  readily,— without  this  previous 
treatment  with  acid  the  polish  of  the  bone 
may  interfere. 

This,  of  course,  amounts  to  etching  the 
bone,  before  dyeing  it.  If  instead  of  bone 
a  piece  of  metal,  such  as  copper  or  brass, 
is  used,  and  after  batiking  it  is  immersed 
in  a  bath  of  hydrochloric  or  dilute  nitric 
acid,  the  protected  portion  will  remain 
smooth  and  raised,  and  the  exposed  parts 
will  be  etched  as  deeply  as  desired.  This 
furnishes  a  simple  and  interesting  method 
of  ornamenting  metal  work.  It  is  even 
possible  to  etch  wood  in  quite  an  effective 
manner  by  treating  the  batiked  surface 
with  strong  sulphuric  acid,  which  softens 
and  cuts  away  the  tissues,  so  that  they  can 
be  rubbed  off  later  in  hot  water  with  a 
stiff'  bristle  brush. 

Of  course,  great  care  must  be  taken, 
especially  by  amateurs  with  little  knowl- 
edge of  chemistry,  in  the  use  of  these 
strong  chemicals,  but  a  comparatively  little 
experience  will  show  that  in  this  old  art 
of  Batik  there  are  endless  possibilities  for 
interesting  and  beautiful  handicraft  work 
of  many  varieties. 


INDIGO  STENCIL  PASTE 

C  INCE  the  publication  of  the  article  on 
'^  stenciling  in  the  April  Cr.\ftsman, 
several  inquiries  have  been  received  ask- 
ing for  assistance  in  applying  indigo  to 
cotton  goods  by  the  aid  of  stencils.  We 
liave,  accordingly,  been  making  a  series 
of  experiments  on  the  subject  and  find 
that  there  is  no  very  serious  difficulty  in- 
volved. The  indigo  must  be  reduced 
carefully  with  hydrosulphite  and  caustic 
soda,  as  described  in  a  previous  paper, — 
using  a  considerable  excess  of  reducing 
agent, — and  then  thickened  with  gum 
tragacanth    or    other    thickening    agent. 


This  paste,  thinned  to  the  proper  degree 
with  water,  can  be  brushed  into  the  slight- 
ly dampened  cloth  through  a  stencil,  and 
should  then  be  immediately  fixed  by  a 
flatiron  or  hot  plate.  The  best  results 
come  from  using  a  hot  flatiron  laid  on  its 
side,  then  by  placing  a  dampened  cloth 
under  the  stenciled  goods  and  rubbing  it  on 
the  hot  iron,  the  steaming  will  be  quickly 
and  easily  accomplished.  After  this  the 
goods  are  washed  in  hot  soap  suds  to 
remove  the  gum  and  loose  dyestuff.  After 
drj'ing  and  ironing  they  will  be  found  to  be 
exceedingly  fast  to  both  light  and  washing. 

235 


ORNAMENTAL  NEEDLEWORK:  AS  EXEMPLI- 
FIED IN  CERTAIN  PICTURES  OF  THE  ITALIAN 
RENAISSANCE :  BY  K ATHRINE  SANGER  BRINLEY 

As  testimony  for  the  handicrafts  in 
an  age  when  beauty  was  loved 
for  its  own  sake  and  everything 
was  worth  doing  well,  many  pic- 
tures of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  aside 
from  their  romantic  or  religious  interest, 
are  of  great  value,  because  underneath 
a  capacity  for  attaining  heights  of  imagi- 
nation and  depths  of  religious  fervor,  the 
Italians  possessed  then,  as  they  do  now, 
a  very  human  matter-of-fact  nature.  The 
world  of  sense  was  never  long  forgotten ; 
this,  together  with  a  certain  delightful 
attitude  of  mind  which  conceived  of  the 
universe  itself  as  but  a  larger  Italy,  made 
these  early  painters  faithful  witnesses  for 
the  arts  of  their  own  time,  painstaking 
delineators  of  things  as  they  knew  them 
to  be  in  their  dear,  prevailing  Italy.  Care- 
ful consideration  of  Italian  textiles  and 
needlework  now  in  museums,  added  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  pictures  of  those  rare 
centuries,  would  seem  to  prove  that  paint- 
ers of  that  epoch  were  more  given  to  copy- 
ing what  actually  existed  in  brocade,  tap- 
estry or  embroidery  than  they  were  to 
invent  for  themselves  the  decorative  fea- 
tures of  their  compositions.  To  cite  an 
example :  A  Florentine  fresco  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  contains  a  figure  clothed 
in  brocade  of  a  pronounced  pattern ;  that 
same  pattern  is  shown  in  a  red  and  gold 
brocaded  velvet  dalmatic  of  the  same  cen- 
tury now  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum. 
And  again :  A  Madonna  and  Child  hang- 
ing today  in  the  Louvre  shows  a  design 
in  the  border  of  the  Madonna's  garment 
that  is  identically  the  same  as  one  set  forth 
in  a  pamphlet  of  needlework  patterns 
published  in  Venice  in  fifteen  hundred 
and  sixty-four.  Indeed,  seeking  through 
pictures  knowledge  of  the  Medieval  crafts 
is  at  once  alluring  and  educational. 

The  Madonna  and  Child  here  repro- 
■Ciuced  is  an  example  not  only  of  a  Ven- 
etian painter's  mastery  over  his  medium, 
but  also  of  the  more  intimate  art  of  the 
needle   in   tho^e   davs   of   fine   craftsman- 


ship. It  hangs  now  in  the  Louvre,  where 
its  compelling  loveliness  of  color,  its  deep 
untroubled  repose,  thrill  the  passerby  and 
bespeak  its  forgotten  creator  as  of  im- 
mortal lineage. 

The  decorative  border  of  this  "dear 
Madonna's"  robe  attracts  at  once.  I 
like  to  think  the  design  symbolic  of  those 
three  immortal  attributes:  Beauty,  Truth 
and  Love  united  in  the  eternal  circle  of 
Life — characteristic  of  the  painter's  own 
time.  Recalling  the  Italian  love  of  the 
actual,  substantiated  in  many  pictures,  we 
may  feel  with  a  fair  measure  of  certainty 
that  this  is  a  reproduction  of  real  embroid- 
ery, perhaps  even  worked  by  the  sitter's 
own  beautiful  hands.  Thus  above  and 
beyond  its  artistic  value  the  design  stirs  a 
human  interest  that  reaches  across  the  gulf 
of  time  and  binds  by  a  silken  thread  the 
woman  of  today  to  her  sister  of  long  ago. 

A  luminous  green,  a  bit  of  heaven's 
blue,  the  soft  sheen  of  pearls  and  just  a 
thread  of  black  are  found  in  this  painted 
band.  Perhaps  again  symbolic :  The  green 
of  earth,  the  black  of  sorrow,  pearls  for 
the  tears  of  human  pain,  which  purify 
and  fit  for  the  blue  of  heaven  itself.  Were 
the  original  larger,  no  doubt  we  should 
have  been  shown  the  stitches  as  well  as 
the  outlining  cord  and  jewels  in  that  part 
of  the  border  fully  worked  out.  However, 
stitches  found  in  fifteenth-century  em- 
broidery of  kindred  character  may  with 
all  propriety  be  adapted  to  this  design, 
as  the  accompanying  reproduction  proves, 
the  characteristics  of  the  original  still  be- 
ing preserved.  In  translating,  as  it  were, 
a  fifteenth-century  design  and  color 
scheme  into  twentieth-century  working 
material,  I  have  endeavored  to  be  faithful 
to  the  idiom  of  needlecraft  then  in  use, 
that  the  spirit  of  the  old  might  be  revealed 
in  the  new  version. 

Of  all  the  interesting  methods  of  stitch- 
ery  employed  at  the  time  this  picture  was 
painted,  those  for  the  working  of  gold 
and  silver  threads  are  most  frequently  met 


2'.6 


MADONNA  AND  rilll.I)  OF  THE  VENM;TIAN  SCHOOL  OF  THE 
FIKTEKXTII  CE.N'TrHV  ;  TllK  EMHK1J1[)RKV  <IF  THE  MADiliNNAS 
RORE  IS  E.\I.AI«;E1)  ami  KEIiiOUn  Ell  IN    DETAH,  ON    I'AOE  2^8. 


A    IlKIAII.    nl-     Mil-     !■  \l  I'.HnlUI  H\"     IHI'M     TIIK    VI'NFIIAX 

maihiNNa's    K(ii;k.    iii'A  i:i  iM'Mi    Willi    "Mil':     riMii^i 

(  A.KI-    AS    TO  (■iliiK    AMI    Mill  II;    AISil    I'lJiil'ITi    IKAMI' 

n)it  si'iri\(;  km  niiniHFuv. 


MEDIEVAL   EMBROIDERY  MADE  PRACTICAL 


with  in  such  fascinating  examples  as,  for 
instance,  the  Cluny  Museum,  Paris,  pos- 
sesses. And  of  the  various  ways  of  apply- 
ing these  metal  threads  on  silk  surfaces, 
none  was  better  loved  and  certainly  none 
was  more  beautiful  than  the  couching  of 
double  threads  by  means  of  stitches  set 
in  certain  order  over  a  cord  foundation. 
But  before  proceeding  to  this  specifically, 
just  a  word  as  to  stitch  combinations. 
Before  needle  is  put  to  stuflt,  an  embroidery 
pattern  should  be  planned  so  that  each  part 
is  given  the  stitch  that  will  best  express 
its  character,  yet  so  that  a  certain  family 
likeness  in  the  parts,  so  to  speak,  will  pro- 
duce a  unity  of  effect  in  the  completed 
whole.  Diversity  in  harmony  should  be 
the  needleworker's  method.  Just  one  other 
suggestion  as  to  the  value  of  black  in  color- 
ed embroider}',  which  is  so  often  ignored. 
The  Orientals,  with  their  keenly  cultivated 
decorative  sense,  can  best  teach  us  the  use 
of  this  sunless  color.  Nothing  so  quickly 
gives  quality  and  value  to  a  pattern  in 
color  as  the  introduction  of  the  right  note 
of  black. 

The  stitch  combination  employed  for  the 
working  of  this  design,  as  shown,  is  that 
which  was  used  for  the  working  of  a 
wonderful  piece  of  embroiden,'  now 
in  Paris,  and  certainly  nothing  could  be 
more  judicious  than  the  choice  those  old 
workers  displayed.  The  circle  of  this  pat- 
tern is  worked  in  couched  gold  threads; 
the  intervening  figure  in  straight  stitch, 
with  couched  horizontal  bars,  and  all  the 
small  circles  in  buttonhole  stitch.  A  little 
consideration  will  discover  the  unifying 
characteristic  in  these  stitches,  yet  the 
total  effect  produced  is  of  a  pleasing 
diversity.  When  the  work  is  completed, 
pearls  ("nail-heads")  are  sewed  in  the 
center  of  the  smaller  circles,  while  two 
slightly  separated  lines  of  black  cord  are 
couched  to  each  edge  of  the  pattern,  and 
give  a  telling  finish.  The  embroidery  re- 
produced is  worked  in  gold,  green  and 
two  shades  of  pink  upon  pale  blue  firmly- 
woven  pongee. 

To  couch  gold  threads  in  the  fifteenth- 
century   way,   a   spindle   upon   which   the 


gold  is  wound  double  greatly  aids  in  ac- 
curately directing  the  threads,  though  it 
is  not  essential.  Japanese  gold  thread  is 
ordinarily  the  most  satisfactory,  as  it  does 
not  tarnish.  Of  course,  such'  work  must 
be  mounted  on  a  frame — it  cannot  be  done 
in  the  hand.  If  the  frame  has  a  standard, 
so  much  the  better.  By  noting  first  the 
unfinished  circle  of  the  reproduction,  the 
following  description  will  be  more  readily 
understood : 

First,  the  form  to  be  worked,  in  this 
case  a  circle,  is  barred  oft'  with  cord  laid 
in  a  direction  opposite  to  that  in  which 
the  gold  is  to  go.  This  cord  or  heavy 
twisted  cotton  should  be  waxed,  and  varies 
in  size  according  to  the  relief  desired.  If 
not  too  large,  a  wide-eyed  needle  will 
carry  it  through  the  material  where  it  is 
each  time  cut  off  fairly  close.  If  too  stout 
to  be  pulled  through,  then  each  bar  of 
cord  is  caught  into  place  witii  a  stitch  or 
two  of  fine  cotton,  and  is  then  cut  off  on 
the  right  side  the  proper  length  to  fit  inside 
the  outline.  This  latter  method  was  em- 
ployed in  the  old  embroidery  referred  to 
above.  The  gold  threads  have  broken 
away  from  their  foundation  in  places,  and 
the  cords  are  plainly  shown  stitched  and 
cut  in  this  way. 

The  circle  having  been  covered  with  an 
even  number  of  cords  equidistant  from 
its  central  point,  fasten  two  threads  of 
the  gold  side  by  side  between  any  two 
cords,  but  as  close  to  their  outer  cut  ends 
as  possible;  then  directing  the  threads 
with  your  left  hand,  fasten  them  down 
firmly  to  the  material  between  every 
second  and  third  cord  with  back  stitches 
of  fine  silk.  When  the  first  row  is  com- 
pleted, continue  by  laying  the  double 
threads  close  beside  those  already  stitched 
down ;  the  stitches  this  time,  however, 
should  alternate  with  those  of  the  first 
row.  Now  you  begin  to  get  an  idea  of 
the  finished  effect — that  of  a  beautiful  un- 
dulating surface  that  suggests  basket 
work.  The  last  and  inner  row  should 
finish  and  conceal  the  foundation,  even  as 
the  first  one  finishes  the  outer  limit  of  the 
circle.     Almost  all   work  of   this  period 


239 


THE    SPIRIT   OF    ORIENTAL   CRAFTSMANSHIP 


WORKING    DRAWING    FOR    MEDI.5VAL   ITALIAN    EMBROIDERY. 


shows  the  use  of  outhning  cord  for  every 
part  »f  this  pattern.  It  certainly  gives 
accent  and  is  typical  of  Renaissance  em- 
broidery. Should  there  be  irregularities 
in  the  outlines  of  the  work  one  may,  there- 
fore, quite  legitimately  conceal  them  by 
thus  couching  on  a  well  chosen  cord. 

Many  charming  variations  grow  out  of 
this  manner  of  working  and  are  used  in 
the  old  embroidery  before  mentioned.  For 
instance,  different  shades  of  gold  may  be 
combined  in  the  same  figure ;  the  couching 
silk  may  be  of  contrasting  instead  of  the 
same  color;  or  a  thread  of  silk  and  a 
thread  of  gold  instead  of  two  of  gold  may 
be  couched  together,  and  the  silk  may  vary 
in  shade  with  each  row,  producing  a  lovely 
gradation  of  gleaming  color  in  the  finished 
form. 


If  the  design  is  to  be  done  in  a  large 
size,  as,  for  instance,  the  piece  reproduced, 
the  gold  thread  for  the  circles  should  be 
heavy ;  for  the  flat  or  straight  stitch,  which 
is  not  padded,  rope  silk  should  be  used, 
and  the  figure  when  finished  outlined  with 
a  single  thread  of  gold  couched  on.  The 
buttonhole  stitch  should  be  worked  in  a 
slightly  twisted  floss,  used  double,  the  four 
small  circles  having  been  slightly  padded 
with  soft  knitting  cotton  couched  on  with 
thread, — the  larger  central  one  more 
heavily  padded.  Always  the  working 
materials  should  suit  the  size  of  the 
pattern  and  be  harmonious.  A  significant 
design,  such  as  this  one,  sympathetically 
wrought,  will  richly  repay  the  worker, 
through  a  widened  interest  in  life,  as 
well  as  in  an  added  possession. 


THE  SPIRIT   OF   ORIENTAL   CRAFTSMANSHIP: 
BY  J.  ZADO  NOORIAN 


M 


ANY,  many  times  I  receive  orders 
of  this  sort :  "Will  you  make  me 
a  pendant  exactly  like  the  one  you 

made    my    friend,    Mrs.   ? 

She  is  quite  willing  that  you  should  copy 
it,  o«ily  I  want  topaz  instead  of  lapis 
lazuli." 

I  have  to  say:  "It  cannot  be  done.  I 
cannot  do  it."'  Then  it  is  asked,  "Why 
can  you  not?  Can  you  not  remember  the 
design  ?" 

It  is  difficult  to  make  people  understand 
that  even  if  I  had  the  very  pendant  or 
diain  that  they  wish  me  to  copy  before  my 
eyes,  there  could  never  be  a  copy :  it  would 
not  he  just  the  same.     "^'We  do  not  work 


that  way."  That  is  all  I  can  say.  It  is  in 
the  nature  of  the  training,  it  is  in  the  verj' 
craftsmanship  itself  that  we  cannot  make 
two  things  quite  alike.  Just  so,  I  do  not 
have  a  regular  stock  that  is  carried  from 
month  to  month,  as  in  most  kinds  of  busi- 
ness. I  cannot  furnish  people  who  ask  for 
them  with  catalogues,  because  unless  I  had 
a  printer  working  from  day  to  day  and 
tearing  up  every  day  sheets  that  he  had 
printed,  I  could  not  represent  the  jewelrj- 
I  have  in  my  store.  It  is  always  changing 
and  I  do  not  replace  the  pieces  that  are 
gone  with  other  pieces  exactly  like  them. 
Could  a  man  write  a  book  twice  and 
have  the  second  exactly  like  the  first?    He 


240 


THE   SPIRIT  OF  ORIENTAL   CRAFTSMANSHIP 


can  send  his  book  to  the  printer  and  he 
will  make  a  thousand  copies  with  his  ma- 
chine ;  but  a  man's  mind  and  soul,  with 
which  he  works,  is  not  a  machine.  He 
can  create  one  thing  but  once. 

"But  can  you  not  remember  the  de- 
sign ?"  Yes,  possibly ;  and  I  can  remem- 
ber pictures  I  have  seen,  but  I  cannot  re- 
produce them. 

It  lies  mostly  in  this,  perhaps — 

Modern  jewelers,  for  the  most  part, — I 
do  not  say  always, — do  their  work  part 
by  part.  One  man  makes  the  design ;  an- 
other works  it  out  in  metal;  a  third  puts 
in  the  stone,  which  a  fourth,  a  stone- 
expert,  says  is  a  good  one.  They  are  paid 
so  much  for  what  they  do,  according  to 
the  skill  or  knowledge  that  the  work  re- 
quires. Each  man  can  do  his  part,  but  he 
cannot  do  the  work  of  any  of  the  others. 
It  was  not  so  with  the  old  jewelers,  espe- 
cially not  so  with  the  jewelers  in  the 
Orient,  who  have  long  been  the  princes  of 
their  craft.  For  the  handling  of  precious 
stones  is  the  birthright  of  the  East;  the 
feeling  for  color  is  a  sixth  sense;  and 
subtlety  of  design  is  the  natural  expression 
of  the  elaborate,  infinitely  patient  and  in- 
tricate methods  of  Eastern  thought. 

You  must  add  to  this  the  laws  of  caste. 
All  the  members  of  each  occupation  inter- 
marry only  among  the  members  of  their 
own  craft  and  they  live  together  in  sep- 
arate localities  almost  like  separate  races. 
They  talk  together  about  their  work  and 
the  knowledge  of  it  is  deepened  by  the 
constant  exchange  of  opinion  among  so 
many  expert  men.  Many  a  man's  fore- 
bears have  been  jewelers  on  both  sides  of 
his  family  for  hundreds  of  years.  Such 
a  man  knows  nothing  of  designs.  Per- 
haps he  cannot  draw  a  straight  line,  but 
he  has  no  need  to.  Metals  and  gems  are 
the  materials  that  he  uses  for  his  work; 
one  does  not  make  jewelry  out  of  pencil 
marks.  So  he  looks  at  his  lump  of  gold  or 
lengths  of  silver  wire  and  handles  it,  and 
then,  like  a  sculptor,  he  works  out  what 
he  sees  and  feels  in  it.  And  no  one  can 
see  quite  the  same  thing  in  the  same  way 
twice. 


There  is  always  the  personality  of  the 
man  or  woman  for  whom  the  jewel  is 
to  be  made  that  influences  the  craftsman. 
There  is  the  change  of  mood  in  himself ; 
there  is  even  the  weather  to  sway  his  feel- 
ings. Then  there  are  the  stones  to  be 
used.  How  could  lapis  lazuli,  rich,  heavy, 
opaque  blue,  be  set  like  a  transparent 
topaz  ?  The  latter  is  light  and  sunny ; 
the  design  of  the  setting  must  not  be  too 
heavy  and  it  must  take  a  little  in  tone 
from  the  color  of  the  stone.  The  former 
is  dark  and  rich ;  almost  no  design  is  too 
heavy  for  the  bluish  gray  mass  in  which 
it  can  be  set.  Yet  the  lady  wants  a  pendant 
just  like  her  friend's. 

Fourteen  years  ago  when  I  introduced 
Oriental  jewelry  and  Oriental  methods  of 
stone  cutting  into  one  of  the  largest  im- 
porting houses  in  New  York,  few  pieces 
of  Eastern  workmanship  were  to  be  found 
in  this  country  except  in  museums  or  pri- 
vate collections.  Now  there  is  a  riot  of 
what  they  call  Oriental  jewelry, — but  what 
is  more  rightly  classed  as  crude  and  bar- 
baric,— and  many  ignorant  men  with  no 
real  claim  to  the  title  of  jeweler  are 
thrusting  a  degraded  sort  of  work  upon 
the  market.  They  call  themselves  Oriental 
jewelers;  half  the  time  they  have  never 
touched  stones  or  metals ;  they  have  done 
nothing  but  clean  rugs.  Their  sole  in- 
centive is  the  money  to  be  got.  Gain  is 
sometimes  a  spur  to  a  man  who  is  too 
lazy  to  find  satisfaction  in  the  use  of 
knowledge  for  its  own  sake ;  but  the  spirit 
of  commercialism  alone  never  produced  a 
thing  of  real  and  lasting  beauty. 

The  true  Oriental  jeweler  worked  like 
a  true  craftsman,  first  for  the  love  of  his 
work  and  only  secondly  for  his  livelihood. 
He  knew  and  loved  the  smallest  detail, 
the  most  unimportant  branches  of  his 
craft.  My  father  made  many  of  his  own 
tools  and  my  great-grandfather  is  said  to 
have  been  very  sure  that  no  European- 
made  tool  was  fit  to  handle.  I  have  in  my 
possession  some  that  he  made  and  I  have 
never  seen  their  equals.  He  could  make  a 
horseshoe  as  well  as  the  most  elaborate 
piece  of  filigree  and  he  found  a  kindred 


241 


THE  VALUE  OF  A  RIGHT  APPRECIATION  OF  WOOD 


pleasure  in  doing  it.  Not  many  modern 
jewelers  are  as  familiar  with  the  materials 
with  which  they  work  as  that.  Whatever 
was  made  of  metal,  he  knew  how  to  make, 
and  he  was  not  too  proud  to  beat  out  a 
cooking  vessel  if  there  was  no  one  else 
around  to  do  it. 

It  was  that  deep  knowledge  and  deeper 
respect  and  love  of  his  work  that  made 
the  old  Oriental  jeweler  famous  in  history 
and  in  story,  and  some  of  his  workmanship 
today  valued  as  priceless  samples  of  art. 
No  part  was  a  means  only  to  an  end  or  to 
be  slighted  as  such,  and  the  end  was  never 
merely  to  make  a  thing  good  enough  to  sell. 
His  aim  was  to  create  a  thing  of  as  nearly 


perfect  beauty  as  he  was  able.  And  he 
approached  it  by  a  series  of  lesser  aims, 
to  his  mind  of  equal  importance;  perfect 
material,  perfect  tools  and  perfect  knowl- 
edge of  them  were  all  necessary. 

This  is  the  spirit  behind  the  craftsman- 
ship that  produced  the  beautiful  repousse 
and  filigree  of  the  old  Oriental  jewelers. 
The  pieces  we  cherish  in  our  museums  are 
the  results  of  generations  of  training  and 
laborious  love.  One  might  make  a  proverb 
that  a  work  endures  in  proportion  to  the 
time  it  took  to  produce  it.  It  is  like  the 
New  York  buildings  ;  they  could  not  stand 
so  high  in  the  air  if  they  did  not  run  so 
deep  under  the  ground. 


THE  VALUE  OF  A   RIGHT  APPRECIATION  OF 
WOOD 


A  well  -  known  writer  on  Japanese 
architecture  and  interior  decora- 
tion says :  "To  the  Japanese, 
wood,  like  anytliing  that  possesses 
beauty,  is  almost  sacred,  and  he  handles 
it  with  a  fineness  of  feeling  that  at  best 
we  only  reveal  when  we  are  dealing  with 
precious  marbles.  From  all  wood  that 
may  be  seen  close  at  hand,  except  such  as 
is  used  as  a  basis  for  the  rare  and  precious 
lacquer,  paint,  stain,  varnish,  anj'thing  that 
may  obscure  the  beauty  of  texture  and 
grain,  is  rigidly  kept  away.  The  original 
cost  of  the  material  is  a  matter  of  no  con- 
sequence; if  it  has  a  subtle  tone  of  color, 
a  delicate  swirl  in  the  veining,  a  peculiarly 
soft  and  velvety  texture,  it  is  carefully 
treasured  and  used  in  the  place  of  honor." 
We  of  the  Western  world  are  as  yet 
only  beginning  to  appreciate  what  this 
may  mean.  With  us,  the  original  cost  of 
the  material  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
possible  consequence,  and  we  are  too  apt, 
when  we  are  choosing  wood  for  the  in- 
terior of  our  houses  or  for  the  making  of 
our  furniture,  to  put  a  money  value  upon 
it  rather  than  to  allow  ourselves  to  appre- 
ciate its  natural  beauty.  For  it  is  a  fact 
that  the  greatest  beauty  often  lies  in  wood 


that  is  faulty  and  comparatively  valueless 
from  a  commercial  point  of  view,  and 
that  by  throwing  this  aside  we  sacrifice 
the  most  interesting  characteristic  of  the 
woodwork.  When  we  do  strive  for  the 
effects  produced  by  crooked  growth  and 
irregular  grain,  we  go  to  the  other  extreme 
and  instead  of  studying  each  particular 
piece  of  wood  and  using  it  exactly  where 
it  belongs  with  relation  to  the  rest,  we 
hunt  out  deliberately  the  most  gnarled  and 
knotted  pieces,  so  that  the  result  instead 
of  being  interesting  in  a  natural  and  inevi- 
table way,  is  eccentric  and  artificial. 

This  is  the  greater  pity  because,  after 
all,  it  requires  only  a  little  interest,  care 
and  discrimination  to  give  to  the  wood- 
work of  a  room  just  the  kind  of  interest 
and  beauty  that  belong  to  it.  Instead  of 
that  we  are  apt  either  to  imitate  the 
wealthy  man  who  built  a  cottage  in  the 
Adirondacks  and  paneled  it  throughout 
with  spruce  so  carefully  selected  that  not 
a  single  knot  appeared  throughout  the 
entire  house,  or  else  we  go  to  the  opposite 
extreme  and  deliberately  select  the  wood 
of  irregular  and  faulty  grain  for  the  entire 
house,  instead  of  letting  it  appear  here  and 
there  as  is  natural. 


242 


FARM    LIFE    AS    THE 
EDUCATION 

WE  are  especially  interested  in  the 
work  now  under  way  at  Crafts- 
man Farms.  Like  the  beginning 
of  all  new  things,  it  raises  many 
questions  concerning  the  ends  we  have 
in  view  and  the  means  we  will  have  to 
take  to  realize  them.  As  we  are  not  fol- 
lowing precedent  but  seeking  to  work 
out,  in  our  own  way,  a  method  of  educa- 
tion better  adapted  to  present  needs  than 
is  customary,  we  must  expect  that  our 
school  will  be  an  evolution.  It  is  not 
possible  to  foresee  at  this  time  exactly 
what  steps  will  be  taken  to  meet  the 
emergencies  that  will  doubtless  come  up 
from  time  to  time,  but  there  are  two  or 
three  things  which  seem  of  paramount 
importance, — to  keep  in  close  touch  with 
nature,  to  lead  a  natural  social  life,  and 
to  realize  the  creative  joy  of  work  which 
lias  as  its  object  the  expression  of  one's 
best    self. 

Accordingly,  the  first  step  in  creating 
what  we  regard  as  an  ideal  environment 
for  a  school  is  to  commence  active  farm- 
ing operations.  The  next  is  the  building 
of  our  homes,  our  clubhouse  and  other 
necessary  structures ;  and  the  last  will  be 
the  erection  of  shops  for  master  crafts- 
men of  all  sorts  who  will  ply  their  trades 
for  a  livelihood  and  at  the  same  time  act 
as  instructors  for  student  apprentices. 
Such  an  environment,  we  feel,  will  be  in 
itself  educative  in  the  broadest  meaning 
of  the  word,  and  perhaps  it  may  turn 
out  that  merely  living  and  working 
thus  from  day  to  day  under  a  simple 
routine  and  kindly  but  efficient  discipline, 


BASIS    OF    PRACTICAL 


will  develop  manhood  and  womanhood  of 
the  right  sort  more  effectively  than  does 
the  traditional  kind  of  formal  education. 

Education  is  a  very  much  abused  word, 
and  we  would  be  glad  to  avoid  the  use 
of  it  if  there  were  any  other  that  could 
fill  its  rightful  place.  It  is  capable  of 
being  taken  in  so  many  different  mean- 
ings, that  we  are  never  quite  sure  in  us- 
ing it  if  we  shall  be  understood.  ^And 
moreover  the  word  has  many  distasteful, 
even  painful,  associations.  Education 
suggests  to  most  persons  the  confinement 
and  unwholesome  constraint  of  the  school- 
room and  the  pains  of  discipline  in  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  glad,  free  enjoyment 
of  child  life  out  of  doors.  Moreover,  it 
is  most  often  regarded  as  an  arbitrary 
thing;  distinct  and  apart  in  time  and 
place,  something  which  may  be  completed 
by  graduation  at  a  university  or  a  finish- 
ing school,  or  maybe  broken  off,  with 
a  sense  of  failure  and  disappointment, 
never  to  be  resumed. 

With  these  ideas  concerning  education 
we  have  little  sympathy.  Why  should 
there  be  a  gap  between  education  and 
life?  Why  should  the  processes  of  edu- 
cation be  set  apart  from  those  of  earn- 
ing a  livelihood  and  of  rational  enjoy- 
ment? In  what  sense  can  education  be 
either  completed  or  broken  off?  Of  what 
value  is  it  when  divorced  from  the  rest 
of  life?  What  shall  we  say  of  the  sys- 
tems of  education  that  have  caused  the 
word  itself,  and  all  for  which  it  common- 
ly stands,  to  be  associated  with  an  inner 
shrinking  a?   from  something  distasteful, 

243 


FARM   LIFE   AND    PRACTICAL   EDUCATION 


almost  sinister?  Tlie  least  we  care  to  say 
is  that  we  hope  at  Craftsman  Farms  to 
give  the  word  another  meaning.  To  us 
the  idea  of  education  seems  as  big  and 
interesting  as  the  whole  of  life  itself. 
And  the  farm  work  which  is  necessary 
to  make  the  land  productive  for  our  own 
maintenance  and  also  to  make  the  grounds 
attractive  to  the  eye,  seems  to  us  to  aiTord 
a  series  of  experiments,  the  educational 
value  of  which  no  scientific  laboratory 
could  equal. 

The  time  lias  passed  when  men  have 
been  obliged  to  match  mere  brute  strength 
against  the  dead  weight  of  the  soil.  Good 
farming  is  no  longer  so  much  a  matter 
of  muscle  as  it  is  a  question  of  mind. 
The  essential  quality  of  the  successful 
farmer  today  is  a  keen  insight  into,  and 
perception  of  the  big  natural  forces  that 
underlie  plant  and  animal  life  and  growth. 
And  what  the  farmer  needs  is  the  sort  of 
craftsmanship  that  adjusts  means  to  ends 
so  that  the  forces  of  nature  conspire  to- 
gether in  favor  of  man's  work  rather 
than  against  it.  But  these  are  the  big, 
fundamental  forces  that  condition  human 
life,  and  once  perceived  on  a  small  scale, 
they  can  be  easily  recognized  in  their 
world-wide  applications.  What,  after  all, 
can  be  more  truly  educational  than  this? 

Of  course,  there  are  farming  operations 
going  on  everywhere  and  mere  observa- 
tion of,  or  even  taking  part  in  them, 
does  not  of  itself  imply  understanding 
of  the  forces  of  nature  that  are  at  work, 
or  ability  to  take  advantage  of  them. 
Insight  is  often  wanting;  but  this  it  is 
the  function  of  wise  leadership  to  supply. 
Here  we  feel  that  the  social  side  of  the 
environment  of  our  school  will  come  in 
play.  Those  who  are  responsible  for  the 
farming  operations  and  are  taking  an 
active  part  in  them  will  not  only,  we 
hope,  be  good  fanners,  but  will  also  have 
an  insight  into  the  mechanical,  chemical 
and  vital  principles  and  forces  involved. 
And  the  relation  of  these  master  crafts- 
men to  our  students  will  not  merely  be 
that  of  teacher  and  pupil,  but  rather  the 
fraternal      relationship     between      fellow 


workmen  cooperating  for  the  common 
good.  We  expect  to  have  as  much  fuu 
in  our  farming  as  ever  there  was  at  a 
New  England  husking  bee,  or  a  frontier 
log  cabin  raising.  We  expect  that  our 
workers  will  all  take  an  interest  in  the 
crops  they  are  raising  and  a  pride  in  hav- 
ing them  the  best  in  the  countryside.  We 
believe  that  there  will  be  an  abundance 
of  questions  asked  why  this  yield  is 
superior,  and  that  disappointing.  And 
there  will  always  be  at  hand  men  ready 
and  willing  to  afford  the  necessary  ex- 
planations. An  inquiring  mind  can,  we 
feel,  in  this  environment  absorb  the  most 
vital  underlying  principles  of  agriculture 
in  their  relation  to  the  primitive  and 
necessary  wants  of  men. 

There  is  another  thing,  too,  that  we 
hope  to  realize ;  namely,  a  sense  of 
the  dignity  of  direct  relations  to  the 
soil.  The  farmer  is  no  longer  an  isolated 
individual  in  whom  nobody  takes  an  in- 
terest. On  the  contrary,  modern  means 
of  communication  have  placed  him  in 
close  touch  with  at  least  two  large  classes  ; 
namely,  the  specialists  who  work  for  him 
and  the  mass  of  men  for  whom  he  works. 
There  are  now  in  various  parts  of  the 
world  a  large  number  of  scientific  inves- 
tigators making  researches  and  experi- 
ments concerning  such  matters  as  the 
control  of  crop  pests,  the  fertilization  of 
the  soil,  the  breeding  of  plants  and 
animals  and  many  other  subjects.  Whom 
do  these  big-brained  and  highly-trained 
scientific  people  work  for?  Obviously 
not  for  themselves,  for  many  of  them,  as 
individuals,  do  not  have  crops  to  be 
troubled  by  pests  or  land  to  be  fertilized. 
They  are  working  for  us  farmers.  They 
are  our  paid  servants  and  employees  and 
their  laboratories  and  experimental  sta- 
tions are  a  part  of  our  proper  equipment. 
We  can  work  accordingly  with  the  com- 
fortable assurance  that  we  need  not  go 
seriously  astray  if  we  choose  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  results  of  their  labors. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  the  people 
for  whom  we  work.  They  are  glad  to 
aid   by  purchasing  our   surplus   products 


244 


REVIEWS 


and  paying  us  our  price.  We  have  to 
i}-iink  of  them,  of  their  needs,  tastes  and 
wishes,  and  there  is  a  pleasant  interest  in 
foreseeing  the  requirements  of  the  ad- 
jacent markets.  Nowadays,  the  local 
markets,  however,  are  more  or  less  direct- 
ly affected  by  the  current  of  the  world's 
market  and  by  shipments  of  produce 
from  many  distant  points.  Thus  our 
thoughts  are  led  out  from  the  isolation 
of  the  farm  into  the  world  intercourse 
and  many  interesting  educational  possi- 
bilities are  suggested. 

Most  significant  of  all  will  be  the 
chance  afforded  to  cultivate  the  sense  of 
beauty  and  to  work  out  an  expression  of 
the  feelings  to  which  it  gives  rise  in  some 
form  of  useful  handicraft.  The  natural 
environment  of  Craftsman  Farms,  in- 
cluding the  homes  and  buildings  that  we 
shall  occupy,  while  adapted  to  the  pur- 
poses for  which  they  are  intended,  will 
be  made  as  attractive  as  possible.  And 
the  handicrafts  carried  on  will  be  related 
so  closely  to  the  life  of  the  place  as  to 
afford  a  natural  outlet  for  the  universal 
instinct  to  express  our  better  feelings 
through  the  work  of  our  hands. 

As  we  make,  step  by  step,  the  neces- 
san,'  preparations, — the  farming,  the  house 
building  and  the  equipment  and  decora- 
tion of  our  buildings  by  means  of  the 
various  handicrafts, — we  feel  that  the 
whole  process  is  to  us  tremendously  in- 
spiring and  educational  in  the  broadest 
meaning  of  the  word.  And  we  cannot " 
help  but  believe  that,  as  our  activities  in- 
crease and  numbers  multiply,  all  who 
share  with  us  in  this  work  will  also 
achieve  physical,  mental  and  ethical  devel- 
opment. 

REVIEWS 

WE  Americans  have  always  been 
accused  of  being  an  over-sensi- 
tive people,  much  given  to  prais- 
ing ourselves  and  to  resenting 
with  hot  indignation  anything  that  even 
approached  a  criticism  from  a  foreigner. 
Thank  goodness,  this  charge  is  not  as 
true  now  as  it  was  in  the  more  callow  days 


of  our  youth,  but  it  is  still  sufficiently 
well  founded  to  make  John  Graham 
Brooks'  book  "As  Others  See  Us,"  most 
wholesome  as  well  as  interesting  reading. 
Mr.  Brooks  is  an  American  primarily 
and  a  citizen  of  the  world  in  addition, 
and  his  viewpoint  is  sane  and  broad 
enough  to  see  both  the  merits  and  the 
defects  in  our  social  system  and  method 
of  government,  and  to  look  with  kindly 
understanding  and  yet  most  discriminat- 
ing judgment  upon  the  peculiarities 
which  hitherto  have  been  known  as  ex- 
clusively  American. 

Mr.  Brooks  has  made  a  special  study 
of  books  on  America  written  by  critics 
of  other  nationalities  and  he  appends  a 
fairly  exhaustive  bibliography  of  these 
studies  of  us  as  a  nation.  With  this 
knowledge  of  foreign  opinion  he  devotes 
the  first  two  chapters  of  his  book  to  a 
brief  review  of  the  several  viewpoints  of 
our  critics  and  the  reasons  for  them, 
frankly  acknowledging  each  palpable  hit 
and  quite  as  frankly  showing  tlie  weak- 
ness of  every  unjust  attack.  Then  he 
devotes  several  chapters  to  an  analysis 
of  the  American  character,  taking  up  at 
some  length  our  sensitiveness,  our  talent 
for  bragging  and  other  peculiarities  that 
have  been  made  the  most  of  by  every 
foreign  traveler  who  is  moved  to  spend 
two  or  three  weeks  in  America  and  then 
write  a  book  about  it. 

A  whole  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  rea- 
sons underlying  the  former  captiousness 
on  the  part  of  English  critics  whenever 
they  were  dealing  with  the  subject  of 
America  and  Americans,  and  another  to 
the  marked  change  of  tone  in  foreign 
criticism  that  has  taken  place  since  the 
Civil  War.  The  author  himself  tells  some 
pretty  plain  truths  about  the  manners  of 
the  traveling  American,  as  well  as  those 
which  too  often  greet  the  foreigner  in  this 
country.  With  regard  to  American  man- 
ners aijroad  he  feels  very  much  the  same 
as  do  all  well-bred  Americans  when  they 
are  forced  to  encounter  the  class  of  globe 
trotters  who  are  bent  upon  impressing 
all  foreigners  with  the  superiority  of  this 

245 


REVIEWS 


nation,  but  in  the  case  of  travelers  in 
this  country  he  cites  many  instances  to 
show  that  if  they  were  greeted  with  rude- 
ness it  was  largely  the  result  of  mis- 
understanding, or  of  some  failure  in 
courtesy  on  their  own  part.  The  book, 
which  is  dedicated  to  the  Right  Honor- 
able James  Bryce,— quoted  at  length  as 
"our  greatest  critic," — concludes  with  a 
couple  of  chapters  devoted  to  the  signs 
of  progress  in  this  country  and  the  many 
evidences  that  we  are  losing  a  little  of 
our  crudity  and  growing  into  a  strong, 
coherent  national  existence.  ("As  Others 
See  Us."  By  John  Graham  Brooks, 
author  of  "The  Social  Unrest."  Illus- 
trated. 365  pages.  Price,  $1.75.  Pub- 
lished bv  The  Macmillan  Company,  New 
York.)  ' 

WE  have  learned  always  to  expect  de- 
lightful, rarefied,  half-mystic  things 
from  the  pen  of  H.  Fielding  Hall,  who 
has  given  us  such  a  sympathetic  view  of 
Indian  life  and  thought  in  his  Burmese 
books,  especially  "The  Soul  of  a  People" 
and  "The  Inward  Light."  In  these  he 
has  confined  himself  to  tranquil  and  con- 
tented reflections  over  the  gentle  philos- 
ophy of  the  Burmese  and  the  exceeding 
pleasantness  of  life  among  them,  and  the 
effect  of  both  books  has  been  to  make  us 
realize  more  and  more  how  vastly  our 
militant  Western  Christianity  would  be 
improved  by  the  acceptation  of  some  of 
the  mild,  charitable,  profound  beliefs  of 
the  Buddhists,  who  certainly  come  closer 
in  their  doctrine  to  the  original  meaning 
of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  than  do  the 
majoritv   of  our  orthodox  Christians. 

But  in  his  latest  book,  "One  Immortality," 
Mr.  Hall  has  essayed  fiction,  and  that  the 
book  is  delightful  from  cover  to  cover 
is  rather  in  spite  of  this  than  because  of 
it,  for  fiction  is  not  this  chamiing  author's 
natural  medium  of  expression.  The  book 
is  little  more  than  a  series  of  soft  glow- 
ing pictures  melting  one  into  the  other 
and  permeated  by  the  magic  of  unseen 
things.  It  is  the  story  of  a  man  and  a 
woman   who  met  one  another  at  Venice 

24^) 


and  sailed  on  the  same  ship  to  India. 
The  man  was  certain  from  the  first  that 
the  woman  was  for  him,  but  it  took  the 
woman  a  long  time  to  find  out  that  bv 
losing  her  cherished  individuality  and 
separateness  she  gained  the  one  immor- 
tality that  made  life  complete. 

This  is  but  the  briefest  reference  to  the 
plot  upon  which  the  story  hangs,  and  it 
gives  no  more  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the 
story  itself  than  the  mere  reference  to  a 
thread  could  call  up  a  vision  of  the  jewels 
strung  upon  it.  It  is  a  book  to  read  out 
under  the  trees  this  summer  when  there  is 
no  hurry  about  anything.  ("One  Im- 
mortality." By  H.  Fielding  Hall.  263 
pages.  Price,  $1.50.  Published  by  The 
Macmillan  Company.) 

THREE  books  that  should  prove  of  un- 
usual value  to  the  collector,  and  also 
serve  as  books  for  ready  reference  to  the 
amateur,  are  "Chats  on  Old  Lace  and 
Needlework,"  by  Mrs.  Lowes,  "Chats  on 
Oriental  China,"  by  J.  F.  Blacker,  and 
"Chats  on  Old  Miniatures,"  by  J.  J. 
Foster. 

The  first  book  was  compiled  to  encour- 
age the  awakening  of  needlecraft  artists 
to  the  beauty  of  the  ancient  laces  and 
embroideries  that  may  be  found  in  the 
historic  collections  in  our  great  public 
museums,  and  it  is  devoted  to  well- 
illustrated  technical  descriptions  of  the 
old  methods  of  working,  relieved  by  oc- 
casional excursions  into  the  history  of  the 
times  which  produced  these  masterpieces 
of  needlev.'ork. 

"Chats  on  Oriental  China"  is  handled 
in  much  the  same  way,  only  the  history 
and  legends  are  more  emphasized  than  the 
technicalities.  The  book  is  so  arranged 
that  practically  all  of  the  Chinese  and 
lapanese  porcelains  and  potteries  may  be 
identified  without  difficulty,  for  opposite 
each  one  of  the  excellent  illustrations  is 
a  brief  description  of  the  main  character- 
istics of  the  piece. 

"Chats  on  Old  Miniatures"  is  exactly 
what  the  title  indicates, — pleasant,  chatty 
descriptions  interspersed  with  legend  and 


REMEWS 


anecdote  of  famous  old  miniatures. 
Many  of  tiiese  are  reproduced  and  from 
the  pictures  one  gets  a  fair  idea  of  the 
times  and  conditions  under  which  they 
were  painted.  ("Chats  on  Old  Lace  and 
Needlework."  By  Mrs.  Lowes.  386 
pages.  "Chats  on  Oriental  China."  By 
J.  F.  Blacker.  408  pages.  "Chats  on  Old 
Miniatures."  By  J.  J.  Foster.  374  pages. 
All  the  books  are  profusely  illustrated 
with  half-tone  and  line  cuts.  Price  per 
volume,  $2.00,  net.  Published  by  Frederick 
A.  Stokes  Company,   New  York.) 

'T'HE  publication  of  so  many  books 
-■■  dealing  with  spiritual  advancement 
and  the  control  of  mind  and  body  is  the 
best  evidence  of  the  strong  modern  move- 
ment toward  self-control  and  the  pursuit 
of  higher  things  than  amusement  or 
gain.  These  books  are  written  from  many 
difTerent  viewpoints,  but  all  teach  practi- 
cally the  same  lesson  of  right  thinking, 
healthful  living  and  the  control  of  the 
nerves  and  sensations. 

A  valuable  addition  to  this  literature 
is  "The  Mastery  of  Mind."  by  Henry 
Frank,  because  it  is  based  upon  the  con- 
trol of  mind  through  brain  and  body, 
instead  of  the  reverse.  Excellent  practical 
directions  are  given  for  the  development 
of  the  higher  faculties  and  the  control 
of  the  lower,  especial  attention  being 
given  to  the  right  education  of  the  nerves 
and  the  transmitting  of  sane,  tranquil 
impulses  from  the  brain  along  the  nerve 
channels.  The  book  is  divided  into  three 
parts,  the  first  dealing  with  the  psychic 
factors, — namely,  the  mind,  the  heart  and 
th.e  soul ;  the  second,  with  the  physical 
instruments, — the  brain,  the  nerves  and 
the  body. — and  the  third  with  the  moral 
agents,  showing  the  effect  upon  the  grow- 
ing child  of  the  training  given  by  the 
parents,  the  teacher  and  the  environment. 
("The  Mastery  of  Mind  in  the  Making 
of  a  Man."  By  Henry  Frank.  234 
pages.  Price  $1.00.  Published  by  R.  F. 
Fenno,  New  York.) 


PEOPLE  interested  in  ecclesiastical 
adornment  will  do  well  to  look  over 
a  book  by  the  Reverend  John  Wright, 
Rector  of  St.  Paul's  Church  in  St.  Paul, 
Minnesota,  for  it  gives  a  clear  and  com- 
prehensive view  of  the  most  famous  altars 
in  the  Church  of  England  and  the  Amer- 
ican Episcopal  Church,  showing  wonder- 
ful effects  in  carved  wood  and  marble 
and  the  relation  to  these  of  stained  glass 
windows.  The  altars  include  those  dat- 
ing from  the  early  Gothic  period  down  to 
the  present  day,  and  the  illustration  of 
each  one  is  accompanied  by  its  history, 
briefly  told.  The  greatest  value  of  the 
book  would  be  to  clergymen  and  to  those 
interested  in  ecclesiastical  architecture, 
for,  containing,  as  it  does,  the  most 
famous  examples  in  the  world  of  altars, 
altar  screens  and  choirs  taken  from  the 
great  cathedrals  in  England  as  well  as 
the  finest  churches  in  this  country,  it  is 
full  of  suggestion  as  a  reference  book. 
The  illustrations  are  admirable,  each  one 
occupying  a  full  page,  so  that  the  details 
are  clearly  shown,  and,  covering  as  they 
do  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  best 
known  altars,  the  range  of  architectural 
design  is  verv  large.  ("Some  Notable 
Altars."  By 'Rev.  John  Wright,  D.D., 
LL.D.  Illustrated  with  114  full-page 
plates.  383  pages.  Price,  $6.00,  in  box. 
Published  by  The  Macmillan  Company, 
New   York.) 

A  SECOND  and  much  enlarged  edition 
of  "Rugs,  Oriental  and  Occidental, 
Antique  and  Modern,"  by  Rosa  Belle 
Holt,  has  lately  been  published.  This 
volume  is  well  known  as  one  of  the  most 
valuable  books  of  reference  upon  this 
subject,  including  as  it  does  a  large  num- 
ber of  color  plates  showing  the  colors  and 
designsof  the  best-known  rugs,  and  giving 
a  clear,  succinct  history  of  rug  weaving 
from  the  earliest  times  to  the  present  day, 
with  a  technical  description  of  the  mate- 
rials and  dyes  used  and  the  methods  of 
working  in  India  and  neighboring  coun- 
tries, in  Egypt,  Persia  and  Turkey,  and 
later  in  Europe  and  the  United  States.   Tlie 


247 


REVIEWS 


last  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  different 
Oriental  symbols  and  their  meanings, 
furnishing  a  key  to  the  intricate  and  most 
interesting  symbolism  woven  into  the 
Oriental  rug. 

The  author  has  long  made  a  study  of 
rugs  both  here  and  abroad,  and  her  ex- 
haustive information  coupled  with  her 
genuine  love  for  the  subject  has  enabled 
her  to  give  to  the  world  a  book  that 
should  make  it  possible  for  even  a  novice 
to  appreciate  the  beauty  and  interest  at- 
taching to  rugs,  and  to  assist  the  pro- 
spective purchaser  in  judging  the  merits 
of  any  particular  rug  he  may  desire  to 
possess.  ("Rugs,  Oriental  and  Occiden- 
tal, Antique  and  Modern.  A  Hand  Book 
for  Ready  Reference."  By  Rosa  Belle 
Holt.  New  and  enlarged  edition  with  33 
full-page  illustrations,  12  in  full  color, 
and  many  drawings  in  the  text.  202 
pages.  Price,  $?.oo,  net.  Published  by 
A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.,  Chicago.) 

WA.  Newman  Borland  has  pub- 
lished a  small  volume  that  tends 
to  disprove  the  age  limit  of  human 
achievement  set  by  Dr.  Osier.  This  is 
entitled  "The  Age  of  Mental  Virility," 
and  it  is  a  masterpiece  of  statistical 
brevity.  After  giving  a  list  of  over  four 
hundred  of  the  world's  chief  workers  and 
thinkers,  the  author  takes  up  the  question 
of  the  different  periods  of  mental  activity 
showing  notable  instances  of  precocity  and 
the  average  duration  of  mental  achieve- 
ment. He  shows  what  the  world  might 
have  missed,  had  hundreds  of  our  most 
famous  writers  and  workers  stopped 
at  the  age  suggested  by  Dr.  Osier 
as  the  limit  of  good  work,  and  concludes 
with  an  interesting  study  of  genius  and 
in.sanity  and  an  analysis  of  the  kind  of 
brain  which  usually  gives  rise  to  unusual 
mental  capacity.  ("The  Age  of  Mental 
\nrility."  By  W.  A.  Newman  Borland. 
229  pages.  Price,  $1.00,  net.  Published 
by  The  Century  Company,   New   York.) 

OF   books   of   travel   there   is   no   end. 
yet  once  in  a  while  we  find  a  record 
of    someone's    impressions    of    a    foreign 

24? 


country  that  brings  its  intimate  beauty 
and  the  inner  life  of  the  people  as  vividly 
before  us  as  if  we  ourselves  had  lived 
there  and  known  them.  Such  a  book  is 
"Through  the  Gates  of  the  Netherlands," 
by  Mary  E.  Waller,  the  author  to  whom 
we  are  indebted  for  several  delightful 
stories. 

This  book  might  be  called  half-fiction, 
for  it  is  written  in  the  first  person  and 
is  not  unlike  a  very  copious  and  interest- 
ing journal  of  daily  life  in  Holland. 
Sandwiched  in  with  personal  experiences 
are  vivid  descriptions  of  beautiful  things 
to  be  found  in  that  country,  but  they  seem 
to  be  less  descriptions  than  the  records  of 
overwhelming  personal  impressions  such 
as  one  might  seek  in  conversation  to  give 
to  a  friend  who  was  unable  to  share  the 
actual  delight  which  the  traveler  had  ex- 
perienced. There  is  clever  character 
sketching  in  it  and  even  the  thread  of  a 
plot,  but  of  the  latter  the  best  that  can 
be  said  is  that  it  does  not  interfere  much 
with  the  pleasant  gossip  about  Holland 
and  its  people.  The  title  of  the  book 
comes  from  the  fact  that  the  author  saw 
Holland  in  an  unusual  way,  "through  the 
little  gates"  that  shelter  the  home  life 
of  the  people.  ("Through  the  Gates  of 
the  Netherlands."  By  Mary  E.  Waller. 
Illustrated.  337  pages.  Price,  $1.50. 
Published  by  Little,  Brown  &  Company, 
Boston.) 

CHILDREN  all  like  pretty  pictures,  and 
familiar  rhymes  and  .tories  come  to 
them  with  a  new  charm  when  they  are 
charmingly  illustrated.  For  this  reason, 
a  new  edition  of  familiar  nursery  jingles, 
illustrated  with  full-page  color  plates  and 
with  charming  sketches  and  decorative 
borders  in  black  and  white,  will  make  a 
strong  appeal  to  many  a  tiny  person  whose 
recollections  of  the  Three  Blind  Mice, 
Little  Polly  Flinders  and  other  old  friends 
will  only  add  zest  to  the  possession  of  such 
a  pretty  new  book.  ("Familiar  Nursery 
Jingles."  Illustrated  by  Ethel  Franklin 
Betts.  54  pages.  Price,  $1.25.  Published 
)iv  Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company,  New 
York.^ 


Sec  inige  .'j,-. 


THE    CALL    OF    THE    SPIRIT 
LOUIS    POTTER,    SCULPTOR. 


—-      ^0  GUSTAVSTICKLEY,  EDITOR  AND  PUBLISHER 

I  J  VOLUME  XVI  JUNE,  1909  NUMBER  5 


A  PLEA  FOR  TRUE  DEMOCRACY  IN  THE 
DOMESTIC  ARCHITECTURE  OF  AMERICA: 
BY  WILLIAM  L.  PRICE 

E  AINIERICANS  flatter  ourselves  that  in  domestic  arch- 
itecture, at  least,  we  lead  the  world,  that  we  have  said 
the  last  word  that  has  been  said  as  to  the  comforts 
and  equipments  of  home.  If  perfection  of  pluml)ing 
and  plenty  of  heat  meant  home,  or  if  ingenuity  of  ar- 
rangement meant  architecture,  this  would  be  so.  But 
we  have  very  little  real  domestic  architecture  that 
is  worth  while,  real  in  the  sense  of  being  an  expression  of  the  life 
of  the  people,  more  than  a  mere  shell  for  their  bodily  comfort. 

What  proportion  of  the  people  of  the  United  States  live  in  their 
own  homes  ?  We  have  a  trite  expression  that  "Fools  build  houses  for 
wise  men  to  live  in."  The  facts  are  rather  the  reverse.  Wise  men 
build  houses  and  fools  live  in  them,  for  tlie  Ijuilders  at  least  had  the 
fun  of  building,  and  they  as  builders  do  not  live  in  the  cast-off  mis- 
fits of  other  men.  Nearly  all  of  our  people  live  either  in  houses  built 
to  sell,  without  individuahty  or  other  relation  to  the  inhabitants  than 
selection  of  the  least  unfit  by  them ;  or  they  live  in  houses  designed  by 
arcliitects  who  did  not  and  could  not  know  them  and  their  life,  and 
who  in  most  part  were  more  interested  in  their  art  than  in  the  object 
of  their  art. 

To  really  produce  domestic  architecture,  three  elements  are  es- 
sential: P'irst.  an  intelligent  demand  on  the  part  of  home  builders 
for  houses  that  shall  meet  their  individual  needs,  in  accommodations, 
in  convenience,  in  embellishments  and  as  an  expression  of  and  in- 
terpretation of  their  real  life  and  interests;  second,  architects  who 
have  the  desire  and  are  able  to  interpret  these  needs,  and  also  to 
explain  to  the  craftsmen  how  they  can  be  brought  into  being,  and 
third,  craftsmen  who  can  make  solid  the  dreams  of  the  architecLs  and 
add  to  the  Iniilding  those  indefinable  touches  of  real  craftsmanship 
that  are  essential  to  all  vital  architecture  and  that  can  be  neither 
drawn  nor  specified,  but  must  grow  out  of  the  worlc  itself. 

What  is  domestic  architecture.^  Not  pictures  of  houses,  but 
houses.     Not  transplanted  and  unrelated  diagrams,  but  stone  and 

251 


TRUE   DEMOCRACY   IN   ARCHITECTURE 

brick,  wood,  iron  and  glass,  Ijuilt  up  into  an  expressive  envelope  for 
human  desires  and  sentiments. 

"Wo  have  one  real  expression  of  domestic  arcliitecture  in  the  Colo- 
nial, but  we  are  no  longer  colonists,  and  we  may  not  hope  to  get  a  real 
American  architecture  by  futile  attempts  to  copy  either  the  letter  or 
the  spirit  of  an  architectural  expression  of  even  our  own  forefathers. 
Our  Uves  differ  more  from  theirs  than  theirs  did  from  the  present  life 
of  Europe.  Colonial  architecture  was  a  formal  and  stately  back- 
ground for  the  minuet,  for  the  coach  and  four,  for  flowered  vest  and 
brocaded  gown.  Its  elegance  has  the  flavor  of  mignonette,  and  your 
trained  architects  can  never  galvanize  it  into  life  by  the  apphcation 
of  a  knowledge  of  Renaissance  details  that  the  creators  of  it  for- 
tunately lacked.  And  most  of  the  culture  that  demands  it  is  as  foreign 
to  real  democracy  as  modern  Colonial  is  to  real  Colonial,  and  as  spu- 
rious as  the  marble  detail  done  in  wood  and  paint  which  it  so  much 
admires. 

ISN'T  it  about  time  for  our  spurious  and  insincere  contempt  for 
democracy  to  cease?  Have  we  not  paid  the  humihating  price 
of  false  ideals  long  enough  'i  We  have  some  real  worth,  some  high 
purpose.  There  are  some  live  Americans  who  are  no  more  ashamed 
of  our  crudities  and  incompleteness  than  they  are  proud  of  our  vanities 
and  borrowed  plumes.  There  are  even  some  architects  whose  hopes 
are  beyond  income  and  the  prestige  that  comes  from  the  production 
of  extraneous  elegance,  wdiose  desire  is  for  a  pregnant  art,  who  are  not 
afraid  to  interpret  life  as  they  find  it,  even  its  rawness,  who  are  honest 
enough  even  to  build  in  the  vainglorious  absurdities  that  they  laugh 
at.  Be  honest,  fellows,  tell  it  all,  as  simply  and  beautifully  as  you  can, 
but  all  of  it, — the  brag  and  the  boast  as  well  as  the  simple  and  manly 
worth  and  the  shamed  sentiment.  The  American  is  a  good  sport  and 
will  soon  laugh  with  you  at  his  own  foibles,  and  better  yet  he  is  game, 
and  when  you  have  helped  him  to  laugh  at  your  combined  efforts  in 
his  building,  he  will  help  you  to  tear  it  down  and  build  better.  ^Miy 
even  our  very  rich  men,  who  are  many  of  them  fine  fellows  when  they 
are  not  at  work,  do  not  live  in  the  fool  palaces  they  build.  They 
really  l\ve  a  few^  weeks  in  the  year,  on  the  water,  in  camp,  somewhere 
beyond  the  bonds  of  the  snickering  and  contemptuous  servitude  of  their 
establishments.  And  you  rich  men,  why  not  really  help  life  and  art 
along  by  letting  us  build  you  sometliing  genuine,  some  place  halfway 
fit  for  the  fragments  of  a  real  craftsmanship  for  which  you  pay  such 
fabulous  prices.^  Quit  building  the  silly,  sham  palaces  that  demean 
your  powers  even  though  they  do  express  your  dollars.  The  idea 
"of  a  live  craftsman  like  Mr.  Schwab,  who  really  does  things,  building 

252 


I 


TRUE   DEMOCRACY  IN  ARCHITECTURE 

a  dead  French  chateau  in  New  York  would  be  hilariously  tunny  if 
it  were  not  pitiful.  INIr.  Carnegie,  who  has  built  up  a  great  American 
industry,  and  in  his  intense  Americanisms  speaks  for  democracy  and 
a  world  peace  and  world  citizenship,  scatters  over  our  country  library 
buildings  that  are  in  design  essentially  European  and  unmodern. 
If  only  he  would  insist  that  they  be  American  architecture  and  real 
craftsmanship,  he  might  help  us  to  vital  architecture  as  no  other  in- 
fluence could,  even  to  a  real  domestic  architecture;  for  the  library 
is  an  adjunct  to  and  an  extension  of  the  home.  Mr.  Carnegie,  like  some 
of  the  rest  of  us,  believes  in  the  spirit  of  democracy,  only  we  don't 
know  what  it  is  and  don't  try  to  ajjply  it.  We  are  beginning  to  look 
toward  something  beyond  or  behind  it,  and  our  college  professors  and 
wise  men  babble  about  the  failure  of  the  untried. 

And  we  think  we  are  so  practical.  We,  the  rankest  spendthrifts 
in  the  world, — spendthrifts  not  in  the  high  sense  of  Hving  today,  of 
expending  all  in  the  expression  of  our  real  lives,  but  spendthrifts  who 
toil  and  sweat  and  do  not  even  always  play  the  game  fairly  in  getting, 
only  to  pour  it  out  like  water  for  shams  and  make-believes,  for  bor- 
rowed finery,  for  extraneous  and  barbaric  displays  of  meaningless 
trinkets  and  stolen  and  insignificant  arcliitectural  forms.  We  archi- 
tects talk  expansively  and  mysteriously  about  style,  referring  to  the 
cast-off  and  outworn  raiment  of  the  past;  and  about  design,  meaning 
the  limping,  patched-up  abortion  of  readjusted  form.  But  there  is  no 
mystery  about  the  problem  of  house  designing,  although  there  is 
mystery  in  the  unknown  process  of  design, — the  quick  flashing  sub- 
jective answer  to  the  objective  problems, — that  is  the  joy  of  all  real 
creation.  A  house  is  simply  walls  and  windows,  partitions  and  doors, 
floors  and  roof,  stairways,  closets  and  plumbing, — that  is  all.  But 
to  be  architecture  it  must  be  something  more.  There  must  enter  in 
other  and  more  vital  elements, — the  human  being  who  has  developed 
far  enough  to  demand  these,  needs  much  more.  But  our  sham  prac- 
tical age  has  centered  its  efforts  on  these  bodily  recjuirements  only, 
at  least  for  others,  thinking  it  enough  that  the  house  of  the  poor  man 
should  satisfy  the  artificial  sestheticism  of  the  cultured  at  best,  and 
should  merely  keep  him  alive  and  exploitable  at  the  worst. 

YOU  say  the  craftsman  does  not  need  to  be  surrounded  by  the 
beautiful, — that  if  he  has  sanitary  plumbing  it  is  enough.  How 
then  should  you  hope  for  intelligent  or  even  honest  construction 
and  adornment  of  your  own  house  which  he  must  build  ?  You  say 
that  your  mill  operators  have  neither  intelligence  nor  taste  to  demand 
the  artistic.  Then  reform  the  methods  of  your  boasted  production 
that  makes  them  what  they  are!     You  can't  have  a  civilization  for 

253 


TRUE   DEIMOCRACY   IN  ARCHITECTURE 

a  ininorily  class,  and  the  oenu  born  in  the  sweat-shop  breeds  in  the 
parlor  both  physically  and  s]>iiitually. 

And  these  matters  of  brick  and  stone  are  very  close  to  the  spirit, 
but  in  the  "  how,"  not  in  the  "  how  nuich."  Just  as  a  business  matter, 
it  takes  no  more  material  to  build  a  beautiful  house  than  an  ugly 
one,  and  it  takes  less  work,  for  most  of  the  uoliness  is  attained  by  the 
addition  of  the  unnecessary  and  unmeaning,  and  most  of  the  beauty 
by  simple  directness  and  the  elimination  of  extraneous  detail.  But 
you  cannot  attain  beauty  by  the  education  of  architects  and  the  ignor- 
ing of  the  needs  and  powers  of  the  common  man.  rich  or  poor.  Arch- 
itecture is  the  inevitable  flower  of  real  civilization,  not  the  wax  imi- 
tation under  the  snuig  glass  of  exclusion  that  adorns  the  stilted  mantel 
of  cutaneous  cultures. 

Now  1  know  that  you  will  repudiate  me  and  my  philosophy,  pro- 
testing that  you  do  not  have  wax  flowers  on  your  mantelpieces.  No, 
but  your  grandmothers  did,  and  you  have  your  near-Classic  architec- 
ture, the  same  exquisite  and  exclusive  taste  for  the  dead,  and  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  that  you  will  not  soon  l)e  back  to  the  wax  flowers.  You 
are  flirting  with  tlie  hoopskirts  of  the  past, — the  next  step  in  your 
renascence  of  dress,  and  you  already  cover  your  walls  with  the  pop- 
eyed  wall  coverings  of  tlie  early  Victorian,  and  clutter  up  your  rooms 
with  their  elaborate  inlaid  and  veneered  furniture  (less  the  honest  con- 
struction), which  half-culture  calls  Chippendale,  although  that  worthy 
made  no  inlaid  furniture.  Oh,  yes,  you  are  headed  for  the  wax 
flowers  ail  right. 

How  then  should  we  go  about  creating  a  real,  vital,  domestic 
architecture  .^  Apply  William  Morris's  saving  as  to  furnishing  your 
house.  "Have  nothing  in  your  house  that  you  do  not  know  to  be 
u,seful  and  believe  to  be  beautiful."'  Be  a  child.  Ask  wdiy  .^  if 
you  are  consistent  you  may  drive  your  architect  crazy,  or  to  think- 
ing. ))ut  yon  will  save  your  house.  If  you  ask  your  architect  why  he 
puts  this  or  that  thing  on.  or  if  he  ask  himself  and  his  answer  is  because 
he  l)elicves  it  to  be  beautiful,  insist  on  the  first  and  more  important 
part  of  the  test.  If  the  architect  is  self-insistent  on  knowing  why 
he  is  putting  on  ornament — and  most  of  it  is  put  on — he  will 
either  have  to  admit  to  liimself  that  he  is  dishonest,  or  leave  it  oil,  and 
then  his  real  work  will  begin.  The  subtle  line  that  expresses  pur- 
pose beautifully  is  far  harder  of  attainment  than  the  most  gorgeous 
enrichment.  'The  Japanese  gentleman  of  taste,  a  taste  which  to  ours 
is  as  fine  gold  is  to  fine  gilding,  drinks  tea  out  of  a  Satsuma  bowl,  but 
it  is  r.ot  the  Satsunui  of  embossed  gold  and  hectic  color,  but  the  sim- 
pl(>sl  of  forms,  with  a  surface  that  is  crackled  to  the  eye  but  velvet 
soft  to  tlie  cheek,  and  with  no  ornament  other  than  a  simple  written 

-'54 


TRUE  DEALOCRACY  IN  ARCHITECTURE 

sentiment  without  and  a  drawing  in  three  strokes  of  Fujiamu  witliiu, 
and  even  this  in  a  faded  black.  We  might  well  but  for  one  thing 
adopt  the  Japanese  method  of  house  adornment,  perfectly  plain  walls 
and  wood  frames  guiltless  of  oil  or  varnish,  and  just  one  of  his  many 
treasures  for  its  adornment.  But,  alas,  we  haven't  the  treasures.  Y<'t 
we  can  adopt  the  principle  that  ornament  must  be  good  enough  lo 
look  at  more  than  once,  good  enough  to  live  with,  or  it  mustn't  be 
there  at  all.  The  moldings  and  ornaments  dictated  by  reason  and 
purpose  and  not  by  the  styles  of  the  past  are  very  few. 

UTien  your  arcliitect  asks  you  what  style  of  house  you  want,  tell 
him  domestic.  And  when  he  suggests  Elizabethan  or  Spanish  or 
Italian,  still  insist  "domestic."  A  house  mav  be  Eng-lish  or  French 
or  Italian,  but  a  home  must  be  domestic.  The  better  "Elizabethan 
a  house  is  the  worse  domestic  architecture  it  is,  except  in  Elizabethan 
England.  Even  though  we  are  in  blood  and  life  more  dominant'y 
British  than  anything  other  than  American,  we  are  no  longer  even 
English  colonists. 

OF  COURSE,  culture  always  tends  to  cling  to  the  elegancies  of 
the  past.  It  is  the  shadow  of  the  past  that  is  the  very  soul  of 
culture.  But  suppose  the  past  had  also  been  "cultured" 
in  this  sense  ?  Then  we  could  have  had  no  precedent  and  no  culture. 
It  is  ours  to  pick  over  the  scrap-heap  of  the  past,  putting  its  few  vital 
records  into  the  pocket  of  our  minds,  and,  with  knowledge  enough, 
and  hope  unbounded,  to  turn  our  eyes  to  the  future. 

A  new  architecture  is  always  struggling.  Phoenix-like,  to  arise 
out  of  the  ashes  of  the  old,  but  if  we  strangle  it  in  the  cerements  of 
the  past,  how  shall  it  spring  into  eifulgent  life .'  Painting  and  sculp- 
ture and  song  may  content  themselves  with  yesterday.  Architecture 
is  of  tomori'ow. 

There  are  few  materials  that  ai'e  not  fit  to  build  with.  It  is  in  the 
misuse  of  them  that  disaster  comes.  When  you  use  wood  ti-eat  it  as 
wood,  even  though  it  be  painted.  Stop  using  silly  cut  stone  details 
and  stone  construction  when  you  are  building  in  other  material. 
Use  stone,  plaster,  brick,  concrete,  tile,  anything  you  will,  but  use 
them  for  what  they  are,  and  let  their  qualities  be  shown  forth  as  well 
as  their  purpose,  and  above  all  kee]}  ornament  out  unless  you  can  get 
real  artsmen  to  put  it  in,  and  even  then  it  must  tell  some  story  of  pur- 
pose or  interests.  Cover  your  floors  with  carpets  if  you  must,  and 
rugs  if  you  can,  but  the  cai"pets  must  be  of  the  sim])]est  and  without 
distracting  detail,  while  the  rugs  may  be  as  distracting  as  possible. 
For  the  rug  is  individual,  even  its  repeats  are  not  really  repeats,  while 
those  of  the  carpet  are  deadly  regular.     And  the  rule  for  carpets  will 

255 


JUNE   IN  AUTUMN 

apply  to  wall  coverings.  I  have  seen  many  l>eautit'ul  samples  of  elab- 
orate wall-paper,  but  never  a  beautiful  room  papered  with  them. 
The  more  interesting  they  are,  the  more  the  individual  spot  in  them 
attracts  attention  and  interest,  the  worse  it  is  when  that  spot  of  in- 
terest is  hurled  broadcast  about  a  room  in  meaningless  repetition. 
Use  wall-papers  as  backgrounds,  either  plain  or  in  patterns  that  are 
little  more  than  texture  to  the  eye,  used  so  that  they  are  entirely  de- 
fensible. Paint  on  them  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  but  don't  flatter 
yourselves  that  the  good  sellers  of  the  store  windows  are  in  good 
taste  because  they  are  the  momentary  vogue.  Vogue  and  stylishness 
are  the  evanescent  vulgarities  of  the  elite,  but  taste  and  style  are  per- 
manent attributes  of  truth.  They  are  the  inevitable  expressions  of 
sincere,  creative  life,  expending  itself  in  the  service  of  humanity. 


I 


JUNE  IN  AUTUMN 

N  THE  gray  Novembertide 

Came  the  Indian  Summer  days; 
All  the  world  was  weary-eyed. 
Sleeping  in  a  dreary  haze. 
Till  dead  Summer  touched  the  hills 

With  the  magic  of  her  hand; 
Now  the  sad  earth  sings  and  thrills — 
Youth  and  Joy  are  in  the  land. 

So  amid  a  darkened  hour. 

In  the  twilight  of  my  days. 
You  have  brought  your  young  love's  flower, 

All  my  poor  heart  to  amaze; 
You  have  thrilled  me  with  a  word. 

You  have  waked  my  soul  once  more; 
In  the  Autumn  1  have  heard 

Summer  calling  at  my  door! 

Charles  Hanson  Townr. 


I 


256 


LOUIS  POTTER:  A  SCULPTOR  WHO  DRAWS 
HIS  SYMBOLISM  FROM  INTIMATE  UNDER- 
STANDING OF  PRIMITIVE  HUMAN  NATURE: 
BY  M.  IRWIN  MACDONALD 

^OMETIMES  it  happens,  even  in  this  commercial  age, 
that  a  man  is  so  absorbed  in  his  work,  so  entirely 
given  up  to  the  delight  of  expressing  what  is  in  his 
own  soul,  that  he  forgets  to  put  himself  much  in  the 
way  of  public  notice.  A  few  people  perhaps  realize 
what  he  is  doing  and  know  that  in  a  few  years  more 
or  less  it  is  inevitable  that  the  public  as  a  whole  will 
perceive  and  acknowledge  the  significance  of  liis  work.  But  when 
he  has  not  exliibited  in  the  well  known  galleries  and  has  been  content 
to  remain,  for  the  most  part,  away  from  the  great  centers  of  civili- 
zation and  to  work  in  surroundings  which  bring  him  closest  to  the 
tiling  he  is  trying  to  express,  the  revelation  of  what  he  has  done  is  apt 
to  take  people  by  surprise  and  to  make  them  wonder  how  it  could 
ever  have  escaped  the  prominence  which  we  in  America  are  be- 
ginning to  give  to  new  and  vital  expressions  of  art. 

Not  many  people  in  New  York  knew  that  from  the  middle  of 
April  until  early  in  May  there  was  a  notable  exhibition  of  sculpture 
by  Louis  Potter  at  the  rooms  of  The  jNIodern  Athenian  Club,  of 
which  he  is  a  member.  The  club  itself  is  newly  formed  and  its  home 
at  present  is  in  a  brownstone  house,  of  the  usual  New  York  type, 
situated  among  a  row  of  others  exactly  like  it  on  Forty-sixth  Sti-eet. 
Invitations  for  this  exliibition  were  sent  out  by  the  club  and  during 
the  first  days  the  attendance  was  limited  to  friends  of  the  scidptor  and 
those  who  remembered  having  seen  here  and  there  a  statuette  or  bust 
of  the  quality  that  is  remembered.  Then  people  began  to  wake  up 
to  the  fact  that  this  was  an  exhibition  not  to  be  missed  and  so  it  has 
amounted  to  what  is  practically  the  first  introduction  to  the  New 
York  pubUc  of  the  work  of  a  notable  American  sculptor. 

When  one  entei*ed  the  exhibition  rooms  the  first  impression  was 
that  of  being  given  glimpses  of  kaleidoscopic  life  and  action,  \vith  here 
and  there  a  bit  of  mystic  symbolism.  Then  as  one  made  a  closer 
study  of  group  after  group,  the  impression  of  mysticism  and  spiritu- 
ality grew  steadily  stronger  until  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  this 
was  the  force  which  dominated  all  the  work.  There  were  bronzes 
and  marbles,  studies  and  finished  pieces,  groups,  details,  portrait 
busts  and  statuettes,  and  from  all  one  received  the  same  impression, — 
of  so  sure  a  grasp  upon  humanity  that  the  artist  was  enabled  by 
means  of  it  to  attain  to  the  expression  of  the  universal  spirit. 

And  as  it  happens  tliis  is  exactly  what  has  taken  place,  for,  begin- 

257 


REALISM  AND  SY:MB0LIS:\I   IN   SCULPTURE 

niii'i-  \Yith  the  most  vivid  realism  in  his  studies  of  types  and  conditions, 
Louis  Potter  seems  to  have  developed,  from  the  keen  perception  and 
warm  humanity  which  made  his  earher  work  so  vital  and  convincing, 
a  power  of  intviition  that  enables  him  to  portray  symlwlically  certain 
significant  expressions  of  the  universal  life  force  which  lies  behind  all 
created  things.  Yet  the  symbolism,  spiritual  as  it  is.  is  so  simple 
and  natural  that  it  seems  inevitable.  A  child  might  inter])ret  it:  in 
fact,  it  probably  would  make  a  more  intinude  appeal  to  tlie  under- 
standing of  a  cliild.  sensitive  to  the  significance  of  unseen  things,  than 
it  would  to  the  mind  of  a  grown  person,  hampered  as  it  is  by  tradition 
and  steeped  in  the  obviousness  of  civilized  thought  and  surroundings. 

YET  even  the  most  prosaic  or  preoccupied  man  or  woman  would 
be  apt  to  jiause  for  a  good  while  l)efore  the  group  called  "Earth 
Bouiur'  and  to  reflect  upon  the  significance  to  humanity  of  the 
story  it  tells.  Three  generations  are  there,— the  old  man,  bent  and 
staggering  under  the  burden  of  inert  matter  that  typifies  material 
things  and  all  the  crushing  weight  of  conditions  to  those  who  grapple 
with  them  solely  upon  the  physical  plane.  The  woman  l)ends  still 
more  beneath  her  burden  of  life,  which,  although  not  so  large  as  that 
resting  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  strong  man  at  her  side,  yet  bows  her 
nearer  to  earth.  The  n^an,  although  himself  bending  under  the 
weight,  struggles  to  stand  erect  and  to  lift  some  little  portion  of  the 
mass  which  is  crushing  down  the  woman.  In  the  center  of  the  group 
stands  a  little  child, — a  woman  child  upon  whom  no  burden  rests  as 
yet,  but  who  is  bowed  and  groping  blindly  beneath  the  shadow  of 
what  is  to  come. 

In  direct  antithesis  to  this  group  is  another  of  which  the  meaning 
is  less  obvious  and  which  expresses  n;ore  strongly  the  feeling  of  mysti- 
cism. This  is  "Embodied  Space,  Time  and  Life."  Space  is  sym- 
])olized  by  a  reclining  figure,  rather  vague  and  ill-defined,  as  if  hidden 
l)ehind  a  veil,  and  expressive  of  limitless  and  changeless  calm.  The 
emanations  from  this  figure  sweep  around  in  a  magnificent  swirl 
which  rises  at  the  back  like  the  crest  of  a  wave;  and  sjjringing  out  of 
this  wave  is  Time,  represented  by  an  old  but  vigorous  nuvn  clearly 
and  strongly  modeled.  From  the  hands  of  Time  springs  Life.~a 
slender,  vigorous  young  woman,  her  arms  fiung  al)ove  her  head  in 
ec-stasy  an(l  sujjjjorting  a  lusty,  joyously-kicking  child  who,  like  the 
mother,  seems  to  pulsate  and  glow  %\dth  the  sheer  gladness  of  life. 

Tenderness,  reverence  and  exquisite  poetic  feeling  are  all  shown 
in  the  grou))  called  "The  IMolding  of  Man,"  which  is  done  in  marble. 
Had  it  not  been  that  this  group  was  conceived  and  executed  before 
Rodin's  "Hand  of  dod"  was  brought  to  this  country,  there  might 

258 


IHE  BEDOUIN   MOTHER     : 
LOUIS    POTTER,    SCULPTOR. 


"THE  IIANCE  OF  THE   WINU  GODS 
I.iUIS   I'OTTEK.  SCULPTOR. 


•'EARTH    BOUND     :      LOflS 
I'OTTER,    SCULPTOR. 


\ 


"THK    MOLDING    OF    MAN 
I.OriS    POTTER.    SCULPTOR. 


REALISM  AND  SYMBOLISM   IN   SCULPTURE 

have  been  some  question  as  to  its  originality,  because  of  the  simihirity 
shown  in  the  symbolizing  of  the  act  of  creation.  But  there  all  resem- 
blance ends,  for  in  this  case  the  Divine  hands  are  so  beautiful,  so 
strong  and  tender  and  fine,  that  the  impression  they  give  of  the 
force  which  shapes  Man  is  markedly  different  from  that  conveyed  bv 
Rodin's  conception  of  the  hand  of  God.  From  the  mass  of  matter 
under  these  wonderful  molding  hands,  ^lan  and  Woman  arise  like 
twin  flames,  the  man  showing  the  traces  of  his  animal  origin  in  the 
suggestion  of  hair  on  the  lower  limbs,  and  the  woman  more  delicate 
and  complete,  as  ascending  more  readily  to  a  higher  scale  of  being. 
The  man's  attitude  expresses  at  once  protection,  reverence  and  a 
certain  lack  of  understanding.  The  woman  takes  no  heed  of  him  as 
yet,  Init  droops  like  a  flower,  gazing  down  into  the  hollow  of  her  own 
hand  and  arm,  which  are  curved  as  if  to  hold  a  child.  Were  it  any 
part  of  the  intention  here  to  give  a  technical  criticism  of  Mr.  Potter's 
art,  attention  might  be  drawn  to  the  sculpturescjue  t|uality  of  this 
group  and  to  the  delicate  perfection  of  its  modeling.  But  of  these  it 
is  enough  to  say  that  Louis  Potter  is  a  thorough  craftsman  and  that 
appreciation  of  his  technical  skill  is  apt  to  be  secondary  to  the  interest 
felt  in  the  spirit  and  the  meaning  of  his  work. 

Less  definitely  symbolic,  but  equally  spiritual,  is  a  single  figure 
which,  taken  all  in  all,  is  perhaps  the  best  thing  in  the  exhibition. 
This  is  "The  Call  of  the  S])irit,"  represented  simply  by  the  nude 
figure  of  a  gaunt,  sinewy  Indian  half  seated  upon  a  tree  trunk  and 
bent  slightly  forward  in  the  intensity  of  his  response  to  the  summons 
of  the  Unseen.  The  expression  of  the  face  and  the  whole  body  is  that 
of  intense  spiritual  exaltation, — of  breatliless  waiting  for  the  message 
which  must  surely  come  from  the  depths  of  the  Unknown  and  bring 
with  it  the  understanding  that  will  give  light  in  dark  places.  Indian 
also,  but  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  stillness  of  this  figure,  are  the  single 
statues  called  "The  Fire  Dance,"  "The  Arrow  Dance,"  and  "The 
Herald  of  the  Storm,"  and  also  the  group  entitled  "The  Dance  of  the 
Wind  Gods."  All  of  these  express  the  intensity  of  action,  of  rejoicing 
in  strength  and  of  gay,  bold  battling  with  the  elements.  "The  Dance 
of  the  Wind  Gods"  symbolizes  also  the  East  and  the  West;  the  East 
being  represented  by  Souzano,  the  wind  god  of  Japan,  and  the  West 
by  a  lithe,  powerful  Indian. 

These  are  all  joyously  pagan  and  elemental  in  feeling,  but  when  we 
turn  from  them  to  "The  Master  Builder"  we  get  back  into  the  realm 
of  exalted  mysticism,  for  the  creation  of  worlds  l)v  the  unknown 
force  is  here  symbolized  by  a  majestic  seated  figuri',  bending  over, 
intent  and  smiling,  to  watch  the  whirling  spheres  shape  themselves 
among  his  robes  and  float  out  from  him  as  emanations  of  his  own 

263 


REALISM  AND   SYMBOLISM   IN   SCULPTURE 

being.  The  thought  that  irresistibly  comes  to  one  looking  into  the 
tranquil  happiness  of  the  face  is:  "And  God  saw  everytliing  that  He 
had  made,  and  behold,  it  was  veiy  good." 

THE  road  along  which  Louis  Potter  has  traveled  to  the  freedom 
of  his  present  expression  is  an  interesting  one.  He  is  an  Amer- 
ican,— born  in  Troy.  New  York,  in  eighteen  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-three,— so  he  is  still  a  young  man.  As  soon  as  he  left  college 
he  went  to  Paris  with  the  intention  of  becoming  a  painter  and  studied 
for  a  year  or  so  under  that  master  draughtsman.  Luc-Olivier  Merson. 
Bit  by  bit  the  young  man  realized  that  modeling,  and  not  painting, 
was  the  form  of  expression  most  natural  to  liim,  so  he  went  for  his 
final  training  into  the  atelier  of  Jean  Dampt.  During  this  time  he 
was  as  much  at  home  in  the  house  of  Boutet-de-Monvel  as  a  son,  for 
he  was  the  closest  friend  and  companion  of  Bernard  Boutet-de-Monvel. 
Such  association  and  liis  studies  in  drawing  and  painting  combined 
to  keep  alive  and  intensify  in  the  young  student  the  keen  color  sense 
which  has  been  of  such  value  to  him  in  ol^taining  the  contrasts  of  light 
and  shade  in  his  modeling,  contrasts  so  vivid  that  one  always  gets  a 
sense  of  color  from  his  work,  whether  in  marble  or  bronze. 

From  Paris  he  went  to  Tunis  to  study  Oriental  types,  wliich  have 
always  had  a  great  attraction  for  him.  Here  he  entered  into  the  life 
of  the  people,  lived  in  the  Arab  quarter,  made  friends  with  the  Bed- 
ouins and  negroes  around  him  and  soon  contrived  to  overcome  the 
lack  of  understanding  between  the  East  and  the  West,  so  that  he  was 
enaljled  to  move  about  freely  among  the  people,  and  to  draw,  paint 
and  even  model  them  without  exciting  their  suspicion  and  antagonism. 
He  experienced  great  difficulties  at  iirst  in  obtaining  models,  because 
every  good  iNIoslem  believes  that,  if  he  allows  a  counterfeit  present- 
ment of  himself  to  be  made,  Allah  -R-ill  at  the  last  day  require  from 
him  a  soul  to  animate  the  image.  Therefore  most  of  the  Arabs  were 
very  shy  of  allowing  themselves  to  be  modeled,  until  one  day  a  sad- 
faced  Bedouin  woman  came  to  the  sculptor  and  said  simply  that  he 
might  model  her  if  he  chose;  that  it  was  said  women  had  no  souls  to 
be  imperiled  and,  even  if  she  had,  her  cliildren  wanted  l)read.  She 
was  the  wife  of  a  Bedouin  outlaw  who  was  wandering  in  the  desert 
with  a  price  upon  his  head  and  she  and  her  children  were  refused  all 
aid  in  the  town  and  were  stoned  in  the  streets.  We  reproduce  here  the 
bust  that  was  made  of  this  "woman  who  had  no  soul,"  for,  in 
addition  to  showing  the  cjuality  of  Mr.  Potter's  earlier  work,  it  is  a 
human  document  significant  enough  to  appeal  even  to  our  Westex'n 
sense  of  security  and  material  well-being.  Others  followed  where 
the  woman  of  the  desert  had  led  the  way  and  in  llie  end  Mr.  Potter 

264 


REALISM  AND   SYIMBOLISM   IN   SCULPTURE 

gained  headway  enough  to  bring  liis  work  to  the  notice  of  the  Bey  of 
Tunis,  who  sent  for  liim  and  decorated  him  with  the  Order  of  Nichan 
Iftikhar.  or  the  Order  of  Renown,  thus  making  him  a  member  of  one 
of  the  nine  great  chivahic  Orders  of  the  world.  FurthermonN  the 
Government  chose  his  work  alone  to  represent  Tunisian  types  at  the 
Paris  Exposition  in  nineteen  hundred. 

AT  THE  close  of  his  year  in  Africa  Mr.  Potter  returned  to 
America,  where  he  spent  two  or  three  years  doing  for  the  most 
part  commission  work,  such  as  portraits  and  jnonuments;  but 
about  four  years  ago  he  was  aoain  seized  with  the  lonmno-  to  ijet  out 
into  the  open  and  back  to  the  primitive  hfe  which  meant  so  much  to 
him.  So  he  went  to  Alaska  and  there  began  the  second  distinct  stage 
in  liis  development,  for  the  realism  of  his  earlier  work  now  began  to 
give  place  to  an  imaginative  mystic  quaUty  that  found  satisfaction  in 
representing  the  strange,  inarticulate,  crudely  formed  human  beings 
that  he  discovered  in  the  far  north.  And  in  getting  at  the  inner  mean- 
ing of  their  life  and  their  religion,  he  found  himself  approaching  ever 
closer  to  an  understanding  of  the  universal  spirit  of  humanity.  This 
Alaskan  work  is  most  interesting  on  account  of  the  strange,  primitive, 
almost  crude  quality  which  characterizes  it,  and  which  is  in  such 
strong  contrast  with  all  the  rest  of  Mr.  Potter's  work,  for  these  people 
of  the  north  seem  to  be  molded  in  masses  and  to  have  about  them  a 
heavy,  archaic  quality  that  is  not  unlike  their  own  rude  cartangs. 
One  of  the  most  appealing  is  the  statue  of  "An  Auk  Mother,"  of  which 
we  published  a  photograph  in  The  Craftsman  for  March,  nineteen 
hundred  and  eight.  It  is  primitive  womanhood  and  primitive  mother- 
hood that  is  represented  here  and  all  the  spiritual  quality  it  possesses 
seems  to  come  from  its  kinship  with  the  earth  to  which  it  is  so  close. 
"The  Spirit  of  the  Taku  Wind,"  although  symbolic,  has  also  the 
simple  primitiveness  that  distinguishes  all  of  Mr.  Potter's  Alaskan 
work.  There  is  none  of  the  sense  of  power  and  the  elemental  joy 
of  life  that  we  find  in  "The  Dance  of  the  Wind  Gods."  Instead  it  is  a 
strange,  pathetic,  almost  awkward  spirit,  striving  rather  to  under- 
stand the  element  which  he  represents  than  sporting  with  it  and  con- 
trolling it.  It  is  a  pity  that  none  of  these  Alaskan  groups  and  stat- 
uettes are  represented  in  this  exhibition,  because  the  work  is  not  only 
interesting  and  significant  in  itself  as  a  representation  of  a  type  of 
humanity  that  is  very  little  known,  but  it  is  most  important  to  an 
understanding  of  Mr.  Potter's  work  as  a  whole. 


THE    PRISONER'S   FRIENDS:    BY   IVAN 
NARODNY 

|AVING  been  accused  of  plotting  against  the  Russian 
Government.  1  was  confined  for  four  years  in  various 
prisons  of  my  native  land.  It  was  a  cold  and  lone- 
some time.  The  longest  part  of  my  buried  life  I 
spent  in  the  famous  Dom  Predvaritelnavo  Zaklut- 
chenia — the  House  of  Preliminary  Confinement,  in 
St.  Petersl)urg.  It  was  the  place  to  which  prisoners 
were  brought  immediately  after  arrest  and  in  which  they  remained 
until  either  convicted  and  exiled  to  Siberia  or  released. 

i\Iy  cell,  number  four  hundred  and  ten,  was  on  the  fourth 
floor,  and  like  most  cells  it  was  dark,  narrow  and  cold.  1  shuddered 
when  I  crossed  the  threshold  and  the  door  clanged  behind  me:  for  I 
felt  that  1  had  left  the  world  and  all  its  loveliness  forever  l)ehind.  and 
that  I  was  locked  in  a  tomb.  The  naked  interior  of  my  dreadful 
home  was  of  reddish  iron  and  mournful  dark  stone.  There  was  an 
inquisitional  cruelty  in  the  iron  furniture,  the  stone  floor  and  the 
gray  walls.  A  feeling  of  being  buried  alive  was  my  first  impression. 
To  be  forever  alone,  to  hear  never  a  word  from  the  world  without, 
never  a  .syllal)le  from  human  lips  other  than  the  grudging  replies  of 
the  guards — this  was  almost  death.  'Sly  life  was  to  become  a  long 
monotony,  and  I  began  to  prepare  to  lie  imprisoned  forever. 

Every  day,  it  is  true,  I  was  allowed  to  walk  for  fifteen  minutes  in 
the  prison  yard — but  even  there  I  was  alone,  and  all  I  could  see  of  the 
universal  sky  was  a  narrow  strip  of  blue  or  a  gray  patch  of  cloud. 

Once  a  month,  however,  it  was  my  privilege  to  attend  services 
in  the  prison  chapel;  for  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  Russian  Govern- 
ment is  piously  solicitous  for  the  welfare  of  the  souls  of  those  whose 
bodies  it  starves  and  kills.  But  even  in  the  church  I  was  in  a  cell,  and 
could  see  no  one  save  the  officiating  priest. 

Though  I  was  deprived  of  human  companionship,  yet  I  was  not 
wholly  forsaken;  for  during  my  imprisonment  I  was  consoled  by  the 
love  of  a  dove  and  a  mouse.  We  were  indeed  great  friends  and 
shared  l)oth  joys  and  sorrows.  We  had  a  common  language,  the 
intuitive  speech  of  the  heart  and  affection.  Not  the  mouth,  but  the 
eyes  and  gestures  express  this  wordless  language.  We  had  much  to 
talk  about  and  we  understood  each  other  very  well. 

A  few  weeks  after  my  imjtrisonment,  while  walking  in  the  yard,  a 
white  dove  flew  to  my  feet.  I'he  next  day,  in  anticipation  of  such 
an  event.  1  secretly  provichvl  myself  with  a  few  bread  crumbs.  The 
dove  again  appeared  and  it  was  not  long  l)efore  1  succeeded  in  coaxing 
her  to  feed  out  of  my  hand.  Not  only  would  she  fly  to  me  in  the  yard, 
cat  from  my  hand  and  look  at  me  with  her  couiforting  eyes,  but  she 

266 


THE   PRISONER'S   FRIENDS 

would  also  perch  on  my  shoulder,  where  I  had  put  some  bread  crumbs, 
and  murmur  her  monotonous  "IIu,  hu,  hu." 

HA^TNG  seen  from  the  window,  circling  above  the  roof,  the 
same  white  dove  which  1  had  fed  in  the  courtyard,  I  deter- 
mined to  coax  her  to  my  cell.  This  I  did  l)y  placing  some 
crumbs  of  food  on  the  A\indow-sill.  Her  attention  having  been  at- 
tracted to  this  particular  spot,  I  felt  that  she  would  be  likely  to  visit 
it  again.  The  result  was  that  the  little  dove  and  I  soon  became 
devoted  friends.  She  always  came  in  the  early  morning  and  at 
twilight;  and  when  the  window  was  closed  she  would  tap  on  the  pane 
with  her  beak  until  it  was  opened. 

Sometimes  her  gentle  little  eyes  were  sad,  as  if  she,  too,  suffered; 
often  they  were  glad,  as  if  with  happiness. 

"Hu,  hu,  hu,"  she  would  say,  and  when  I  stroked  her  feathers 
she  seemed  truly  grateful.  After  a  while,  when  I  had  gained  her 
entire  confidence,  she  would  fly  into  the  cell  and  perch  upon  the  bed 
or  the  table. 

One  day  it  occurred  to  me  that  she  might  be  a  carrier  pigeon  and 
that  I  could  use  her  as  a  messenger.  So  I  tied  aroimd  her  neck  a 
little  piece  of  paper,  on  wliicli  I  had  written  these  words: 

"From  a  prisoner  in  Dom  Predvaritelnavo  Zaklutchenia.  Please 
answer  by  the  dove,  who  \asits  nie  every  day.  Send  me  a  pencil  and 
some  thin  paper.     Prisoner  Four  Hundred  and  Ten." 

The  dove  flew  away  with  my  letter  and  I  eagerly  awaited  her 
return  at  twilight.  However,  she  did  not  come  back  that  evening  as 
usual,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  some  misfortune  had  overtaken  her, 
occasioned  perhaps  by  my  message.  I  did  not  sleep  much  that  night. 
The  next  morning  I  heard  the  usual  tap,  tap,  and  hurriedly  opening 
the  window  admitted  my  little  messenger.  Around  her  neck  was 
another  letter.  Feverishly  untying  the  string  with  which  it  was 
bound,  I  opened  it  and  found  a  little  bag  and  a  blue  silk  ribbon,  on 
which  was  written  this  reply: 

"The  dove  brought  me  your  letter.  She  and  her  little  ones  have 
a  nest  in  our  house.  She  is  also  my  dearest  friend  and  1  am  not 
jealous  of  her  friendship  for  you.  I  enclose  pencil  and  paper;  for 
I  know  you  are  deprived  of  these  things.  God  help  you.  Your 
friend.  Miss  Liberty." 

Tliis  was  a  great  event  in  my  monotonous  life,  and  the  dove  be- 
came my  greatest  benefactor.  Nearly  every  week  she  brought  me 
a  note  from  my  unknown  friend.  Days,  months  anfl  years  passed 
like  a  dream.  I  almost  forgot  that  there  was  another  life  besides  the 
prison  life:  or  other  beings  than  the  dove,  the  mouse  and  the  myste- 

267 


THE  PRISONER'S  FRIENDS 

rious  Miss  Liberty.  Had  it  not  been  for  my  daily  walk  in  the  prison 
yard  when  I  caught  glimpses  of  the  sky,  the  clouds  and  sometimes 
of  the  birds,  the  world  1  had  lost  would  have  been  no  more  than  a 
memory.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  I  once  had  lived  in  that  free 
world,  that  I  had  actually  had  birds  and  trees  for  my  daily  associates, 
that  I  could  go  where  my  will  directed. 

JUST  as  the  life  in  the  world  is  full  of  incidents  and  change,  so 
also  in  prison  there  were  events  of  more  or  less  importance. 
Sometimes  a  prisoner  died  or  was  released,  and  witliin  a  few 
hours  the  news  was  telegraphed  from  cell  to  cell  by  a  certain  code  of 
the  prisoners,  who  conversed  by  tapping  on  the  walls.  Then  there 
were  the  new  arrivals  who  brought  the  news  of  the  world.  But  even 
more  interesting  than  these  were  the  stories  of  the  lives  of  the  pris- 
oners with  which  we  made  lighter  many  a  heavy  hour,  and  my  cor- 
respondence, through  the  dove,  with  Miss  Liberty  was  almost  always 
concerning  these  subjects. 

One  morning  the  dove  brought  me  a  beautiful  flower,  a  lily,  and 
to  tliis  was  attached  a  card,  on  which  was  written: 

"Today  is  your  mother's  birthday.  I  send  you  this  flower.  Try 
to  look  beyond  your  present  suffering.  This  discipline  will  make  you 
strong.     Goodbye." 

"How  strange,"  I  thought,  "that  she  knows  so  much  about  my 
life.  I  must  find  out  who  she  is."  I  wrote  her  often  asking  her  to 
give  me  her  address  and  real  name,  or  something  to  identify  her  per- 
sonality.    To  such  request  she  would  reply: 

"You  know  the  dove,  you  touch  her  feathers  and  pet  her;  I  do 
the  same.  We  Ijoth  love  her  and  she  loves  us.  Is  not  that  sufficient  ? 
She  is  the  medium  between  you  and  me.  Her  eyes  bring  me  your 
greetings  and  the  story  of  your  emotions  and  I  ask  her  to  bring  you 
mine.     I  love  her." 

It  is  a  peculiarity  of  solitary  confinement  that  one  inevitably  invests 
even  the  most  material  objects  with  personality.  One  ceases  to  medi- 
tate ;  aninuils  and  inanimate  things  are  endowed  with  human  attributes, 
so  that  one  converses  with  them  as  if  they  were  friends  and  comrades. 
The  dove  and  mouse  had  become  my  sisters.  They  seemed  like 
other  selves,  to  be  conscious  of  my  sufi'erings,  to  know  my  thoughts 
and  to  sympathize  witli  me. 

How  I  loved  them,  and  how  in  return  they  loved  me,  cannot  be 
appreciated  by  anyone  who  has  not  had  a  similar  experience.  It 
was  a  simple  and  innocent  love, — a  thing  almost  incredible  in  this 
world  of  strife  and  bitf(M-ness,  where  the  strong  survive  at  the  sac- 
rifice of  the  weak. 

268 


THE   PRISONER'S  FRIENDS 

While  the  eyes  of  the  dove  gave  me  the  impression  that  she  was  a 
pessimist,  those  of  the  mouse  suggested  the  optimist.  In  the  be- 
ginning of  our  acquaintance  the  mouse  was  very  timid  and  would 
not  take  the  food  1  had  placed  on  the  floor  until  1  was  some  distance 
away.  In  a  few  weeks,  however,  she  was  so  tame  that  she  would 
take  the  food  from  my  fingers.  In  a  month  or  two  she  lost  all  her 
fear  and  would  play  with  me,  dancing  around  me  like  a  tiny  dog. 
She  was  fond  of  being  tickled  and  scratched  on  the  back,  and  1  would 
stroke  her  fur  as  one  strokes  a  cat. 

Early  in  the  morning  she  would  come  from  a  small  hole  under 
the  water  pipe.  After  listening  a  moment,  she  would  run  up  the  leg 
of  the  table  and,  reaching  the  top,  would  dash  at  the  crumbs  or  the  pieces 
of  fat  which  I  had  placed  there.  Having  finished  her  breakfast,  she 
would  jump  down  upon  the  bed  and  crawl  under  the  blankets.  At 
first  I  resented  this  intrusion.  It  did  not  impress  me  as  particularly 
pleasant;  for,  as  with  most  people,  the  touch  of  a  rodent  had  always 
made  me  feel  rather  creepy.  But  when  I  understood  the  intimate 
aft'ection  of  the  little  animal,  I  could  no  longer  repulse  her.  Some- 
times when  I  awoke  earlier  than  usual,  I  would  even  wait  for  her. 
I  named  her  "Tsakki." 

"Tsakki,  tell  me  how  old  you  are."     I  would  say  to  her. 

Then  she  would  close  her  eyes  and  nod  her  little  head,  seeming 
to  say: 

"I  don't  remember;  for  we  don't  measure  time  as  you  do.  We 
are  not  so  stupid.  It  is  enough  that  we  live  and  are  happy."  Then 
I  would  ask: 

"Tsakki,  are  you  married  or  single.'" 

Wagging  her  little  tail,  she  would  reply;  for  so  I  interpreted  her 
look  and  attitude: 

"I  have  my  nest,  my  children  and  my  beloved,  but  I've  never 
heard  of  a  marriage.  We  five,  love  and  are  happy.  Isn't  that 
enough.'" 

Thus  I  would  talk  'uath  her  for  hours.  She  understood  only  the 
speech  of  my  eyes.  The  desire  to  speak  becomes  almost  a  mania 
with  prisoners  in  solitary  confinement.  They  have  a  desire  to  com- 
municate ^N-ith  everything:  with  the  clouds,  the  stars,  the  moon,  the 
birds  and  also  ^xith  their  own  hallucinations. 

Once  Tsakki's  eyes  were  sad,  like  those  of  a  weeping  cliild. 

"Tsakki,  what  is  the  matter.'"  I  asked.  "Have  you  lost  one 
of  your  little  ones  .'     Or  has  your  beloved  forsaken  you  ?" 

"Everything,"  she  seemed  to  reply,  shaking  her  head,  "but  I 
shall  learn  to  forget  and  soon  shall  be  happy  again."  And  happiness 
was  indeed  her  normal  condition. 

269 


THE   PRISONER'S   FRIENDS 

She  was  fond  of  music.  Often  I  would  hum  some  tune,  or  play 
on  a  string  held  taut  between  my  fingers,  and  to  this  she  would  listen 
for  hours.  She  seemed  to  ajjpreeiate  only  the  music  of  very  high 
notes,  while  to  the  lower  tones  she  remained  entirely  indifferent. 
Tsakki  was  indeed  a  jjaragon  of  virtue  in  every  way.  except  when  she 
was  jealous  of  my  otlier  friend,  the  dove.  She  did  not  like  it  when  I 
stroked  the  dove  and  fed  her  from  ray  hand,  and  often  she  bristled 
as  if  she  would  attack  the  dove  with  her  sharp  teeth.  The  dove  was 
verv  o-enerous  and  williuiily  left  her  food  for  the  mouse. 

,NE  evening,  after  several  days  of  ai)sence,  Tsakki  came  again 
very  shyly.  1  was  just  eating  my  supper  when  I  heard  her 
tiny  voice.  She  emei'ged  from  the  hole  beneath  the  water  pipe 
and  scampered  forward  and  backward  several  times  as  if  to  attract 
my  attention.  Presently  another  and  smaller  head  appeared,  and 
1  realized  that  the  mouse  had  come  with  her  little  one,  of  which,  to 
judge  by  her  actions  and  her  sparkling  eyes,  she  was  exceedingly 
proud. 

She  was  not  able,  however,  to  persuade  the  youngster  to  venture 
in  my  direction.  It  was  very  shy  and  timid,  and  ke])t  a  safe  distance. 
I  gave  the  mother  a  small  piece  of  fat,  which  she  carried  to  her  infant; 
and  the  prodigy,  as  if  to  show  what  it  could  do,  at  once  began  to  eat 
it.  Then  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  feet  passing  through  the  cor- 
ridor, and  mother  and  child  scampered  fearfully  away. 

For  several  weeks  the  little  one  accomj^auied  its  mother,  who 
seemed  very  anxious  that  we  should  become  friends.  I  exhausted  all 
my  arts  and  hours  of  patience  to  attract  the  timid  creature;  but  it 
w^ould  not  become  my  friend.  It  Avas  entirely  different  from  its 
mother.     Finally  it  ceased  to  come  and  I  did  not  see  it  any  more. 

I  wondered  often  at  Tsakki's  keen  understanding  of  my  psy- 
choloiiv.  I  was  not  always  disposed  to  caress  or  to  }jet  her  and  she 
understood  my  mood  immediately  and  did  not  bother  me  at  all,  but 
after  getting  her  meal  soon  disappeared.  She  knew  when  1  was  in  a 
talkative  or  in  a  quiet  humor  and  accommodated  herself  to  my  feel- 
ings. When  1  was  sad  she  looked  at  me  with  her  beaming  eyes, 
wagged  her  tail  and  went  away.  When  1  was  merry  she  jumped 
around  and  expressed  her  good  hunior. 

She  was,  however,  a  thief  and  lacked  a  sense  of  honor,  as  men 
recognize  it.  1  could  leave  neither  meat  nor  sugar  on  the  table  or 
on  the  shelves,  for  Tsakki  would  return  at  night  while  I  was  sleeping 
and  would  steal  it  all. 

I  used  to  tease  her  l)y  filling  the  meat  with  salt.  Not  suspecting 
anv  wrong  she  would  grasp  it,  l)ut  when  sIh^  began  to  eat  she  became 

270 


THE   PRISONERS   FRIENDS 

very  angry.  When  1  offered  it  again  she  would  refuse  to  take  it,  or 
\vould  bite  my  finger  furiously.  P'ood  was  the  sole  concern  of  her 
life.  She  was  a  real  materialist  and  had  no  other  ideals  than  her 
daily  bread  and  her  nest. 

We  quarreled  with  each  other,  we  understood  each  other  and  we 
loved  each  other.  For  two  years  Tsakki  shared  all  my  joys  and  suf- 
ferings. I  loved  her  companionship,  especially  when  in  my  loneli- 
ness I  felt  that  I  was  forsaken  by  my  friends  and  by  all  those  who  once 
had  loved  me.  I  loved  her  because  she  was  so  gentle,  so  sincere  and 
simple,  while  men  seemed  to  me  to  be  almost  artificial.  Wlien  I 
thought  of  their  hypocrisies  I  looked  upon  my  little  friend  as  a  being 
far  superior  to  man.  When  I  felt  lonely  and  when  I  could  endure 
the  everlasting  silence  no  longer,  I  found  consolation  in  my  conver- 
sation with  Tsakki,  in  playing  ^\-ith  her  or  in  looking  silently  into  her 
smiling  eyes.     She  had  become  like  my  own  child  to  me. 

ONCE,  on  a  rainy  autumn  evening,  when  the  wind  howled  and 
roared  around  the  towers  and  the  chimneys  of  the  gloomy 
prison,  I  was  lying  mournfully  on  my  hard  bed  and  thinking. 
A  prisoner  next  to  my  cell  had  just  told  me  through  the  language 
of  the  walls  the  tragedy  of  his  life,  and  another,  above  me,  had  in- 
formed me  of  the  suicide  of  his  neighbor  who  had  hanged  himself 
to  the  wall.  Their  talk  had  made  me  sorrowful  and  the  world 
seemed  like  a  desert  where  joy  could  never  come. 

Being  thus  in  a  mood  of  deep  melancholy  and  of  sad  reflections 
I  was  surprised  by  a  very  unusual  noise,  as  if  someone  were  beating 
against  the  wall  in  the  next  cell.  I  jumped  out  of  my  bed  and  listened ; 
but  I  could  hear  nothing  but  the  steps  of  the  walking  sentinel  in  the 
corridor  as  he  passed  my  door.  After  a  while  I  heard  again  the 
same  fluttering  noise. 

I  looked  out  of  my  window  and  there  against  the  window  pane 
like  the  shadow  of  a  ghost  stood  my  friend,  the  dove.  I  was  greatly 
surprised  in  finding  her  so  late  at  night  at  my  window  and  in  such 
stormy  weather;  for  this  never  had  happened  before.  I  hurriedly 
opened  the  window  and  she  flitted  inside.  She  was  in  an  altogether 
unusual  state,  for  she  trembled  as  if  she  were  in  great  fear.  I  looked 
at  her  feathers,  her  wings  and  feet  but  I  could  discover  nothing  wrong 
T\-ith  her,  except  her  great  excitement.  Caressing  her  tenderly  for 
some  minutes  I  asked  with  intimate  sympathy: 

"Tell  me,  golubtchik — little  dove,  what  is  the  matter  with  you.' 
Has  somebody  hurt  you  or  was  your  life  in  danger.'  How  is  Miss 
Liberty  ?     Is  she  ill  ?     Tell  me." 

I  looked  into  her  dreamy  eyes  and  they  gazed  mutely  at  me  with 

271 


THE  PRISONER'S  FRIENDS 

such  sorrow  that  it  almost  made  me  cry.  They  were  the  eyes  of  a 
child  who  has  suddenly  lost  its  mother.  They  were  full  of  pain. 
I  comforted  her,  stroked  her  feathers  and  beak,  and  offered  her  some 
water.  This  she  accepted  and  after  she  had  drunk  tliirstily  she 
perched  on  my  hand.  Convulsive  shudders  now  and  then  indicated 
that  she  was  still  in  a  spell  of  great  excitement.  I  questioned  her 
about  everytliing,  and  imagined  various  tragedies  in  her  eyes.  But 
I  was  not  able  to  discover  the  cause  of  her  sorrow. 

For  many  hours  I  kept  her  by  me  while  she  looked  with  great 
fear  out  of  the  window  as  if  some  great  trouble  were  there.  Only 
near  me  did  she  seem  satisfied  and  quiet.  She  sat  calmly  on  my 
hand  or  on  my  shoulder  and  gazed  at  me  with  a  gentle  look. 

"  \Vliat  can  I  do  for  you  .^"  I  asked  her. 

"  Your  love  is  all  I  ask,"  she  seemed  to  reply,  for  so  I  interpreted 
her  look.  "  I  am  hungry  for  it.  Let  me  be  with  you.  It  is  so  dread- 
ful there  in  the  dark.  How  cosy  it  is  to  be  with  a  beloved  com- 
panion." 

I  could  not  send  her  away,  although  according  to  the  prison  rules 
I  was  not  allowed  to  keep  her  in  the  cell.  However,  I  intended  to 
have  her  over  night  with  me.  I  put  her  on  the  edge  of  my  iron  bed, 
but  she  was  so  frightened  that  she  refused  to  be  a  moment  alone. 
The  keeper  put  out  the  fire  and  the  room  became  pitch  dark.  He  did 
not  notice  the  dove  in  the  cell  when  he  looked  through  a  hole  in  the 
door.  I  was  glad  and  went  to  bed,  keeping  my  hand  on  her  wings, 
which  made  her  calm  and  quiet.     And  then  1  fell  asleep. 

After  some  hours,  wliile  we  were  asleep,  Tsakki  came  to  examine 
the  table  and  the  shelves  to  steal  some  food  for  her  children.  Seeing 
the  dove  slum])ering  on  my  bed  she  ran  up  to  her  angrily.  I  was 
awakened  by  the  rustle  of  my  excited  friend  flying  frightened  around 
in  the  darkness.  Recognizing  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  I  called 
to  the  dove,  comforting  her  while  I  scolded  Tsakki  and  ordered  her  to 
leave  us  alone,  which  she  did  only  after  a  long  scolding.  After  a 
time  of  <|uietness  I  again  fell  asleep  and  thus  we  remained  until  dawn. 

The  dove,  now  awakening,  flew  upon  the  table  and  picked  up 
some  bread  crumbs  for  her  breakfast.  I  got  up  also,  wrote  a  letter  to 
Miss  Liberty  about  the  curious  excitement  of  our  messenger,  bound  it 
around  her  neck  and  opened  the  window.  She  looked  timidly  back 
at  me  and  at  the  flying  clouds  and  disappeared. 

Weeks  jjassed  and  the  dove  did  not  come.  I  waited  and  waited. 
Heavy  presentiments  and  sad  thoughts  began  to  depress  me  and  I 
felt  in  agony,  as  one  feels  when  he  awaits  liis  sweetheart  and  she 
never  comes,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  at  once  lost  my  two  best 
friends.     "Yet,  such  is  life!"  I  said  to  myself  and  I  tried  to  forget. 

272 


THE  PRISONER'S  FRIENDS 

But  do  what  I  could,  it  was  impossible  to  shake  off  the  memory  of 
my  lost  companion.  Always  the  dove  was  before  my  eyes  and  I 
almost  saw  -visions  of  her. 

One  Sunday  morning  on  a  cold  -ninter  day,  the  dove  again  ap- 
peared at  the  window  and  gazed  into  the  cell  as  if  to  find  outif  I,  the 
old  friend,  were  still  there.  It  was  as  if  I  had  refound  my  lost  bride. 
I  opened  the  window,  put  out  my  hand  and  cried: 

"  Come  in.     How  do  you  do  'i     Tell  me  what  has  been  the  matter." 

SHE  recognized  me,  came  timidly  in  and  looked  at  me  curiously, 
with  her  usual  melancholy  expression.  Her  appearance  was 
so  impressive  that  I  felt  almost  as  if  she  were  a  lost  child  that  was 
found.  I  took  her  in  my  hand,  pressed  her  head  to  my  face  and 
caressed  her  with  tender  words.  She  seemed  very  happy  and  walked 
around  the  cell,  perched  upon  the  table,  and  pecked  tenderly  at  my 
cheeks.  After  the  first  moments  of  greeting  were  over.  I  noticed 
a  small  bag  around  her  neck  which  1  untied  immediately.  It  was 
a  note  from  my  mysterious  friend.     Tliis  is  what  she  wrote: 

"The  interruption  of  our  correspondence  was  apparently  due  to 
an  accident  to  our  messenger.  Did  you  get  that  souvenir  I  sent 
through  her  five  weeks  ago  'i  It  was  a  stormy  day  and  I  felt  also  a 
tempest  in  my  emotions.  The  dove  today  returned  frightened  and 
depressed  after  several  weeks  of  absence.  Where  was  she  those 
many  cold  days  and  what  did  she  do  }  She  seems  to  tell  me  wath  her 
mournful  "hu,  hu,  hu,"  but  I  am  unable  to  understand.  Please 
write  me  how  you  are  and  what  you  know  about  her  absence.  I  hope 
she  will  find  you  safe  and  well.     Your  friend.  Miss  Liberty." 

I  read  and  reread  the  note  and  tried  to  get  from  its  carrier  some 
explanation.  To  all  my  questions  she  was  dumb.  Yet  she  was  in 
her  usual  disposition  and  ate  the  breakfast  I  had  prepared  for  her 
from  my  daily  allowance.  Now  and  then  she  shook  her  \\ings, 
glanced  at  me  and  at  the  blue  sky  through  the  trellised  window  and 
muttered  her  "hu,  hu,  hu."  I  then  wrote  Miss  Liberty  that  I  had 
never  received  her  souvenir  and  that  I  did  not  know  what  had  occa- 
sioned the  absence  of  the  dove.  I  asked  my  friend  also  what  she 
meant  by  "the  tempest  in  her  emotions,"  but  to  this  she  never  replied. 

Thus  the  dove  became  again  my  benefactor  and  like  a  messenger 
of  freedom  brought  healing  from  my  sorrow  and  sufi'erings  in  that 
lonely  world.  I  awaited  her  arrival  with  eagerness  and  I  felt  de- 
pressed when  she  failed  to  come.  I  was  happy  when  she  brought  me 
news  from  that  world  without,  which  to  me  had  become  almost  a 
dream. 

A  few  days  later  I  received  a  note  from  my  unknown  friend,  in- 

273 


THE   PRISONER'S   FRIENDS 

forming  iiie  that  1  would  be  free.  1  told  some  of  my  fellow  prisoners, 
though  they  refused  to  believe  it  could  be  anything  but  a  joke  of  the 
keepers.  But  all  the  same  the  doye  proved  a  true  prophet.  At 
eleven  o'clock  the  same  night  the  keeper  entered  my  cell  and  told 
me  I  was  free. 

And  then  I  had  to  leave  the  cell  where  1  had  spent  those  terrible 
years.  Words  cannot  descriljc  my  gladness,  yet  my  joy  was  not  un- 
mixed with  sorrow.  It  was  witli  a  keen  pimg  that  1  caressed  my 
little  Tsakki  for  the  last  time  ami  left  my  cell  for  the  wide  world. 

As  soon  as  1  reached  the  street  1  found  a  carriage  waiting  for  me 
and  in  the  carriage  a  lady.  It  was  Miss  Liberty.  She  spoke  only 
in  nionosyllables  and  would  not  reveal  her  identity,  yet  through  the 
heavy  veil  that  covered  her  face  I  could  see  that  she  was  a  young  and 
very  beautiful  girl.  She  drove  me  to  a  church,  then  to  the  railway 
station,  and  there  she  gave  me  a  ticket  to  my  home.  The  train  started, 
she  waved  her  hand  and  I  saw  her  no  more. 

She  probably  \\as  an  ardent  sympathizer  with  the  cause,  one 
whose  influential  connections  and  wealth  enat)led  her  to  accomplish 
what  otherwise  would  have  been  impossible.  Whether  through 
some  plea  or  through  bribery  she  secured  my  release  1  cannot  say. 
Yet  she  was  an  angel  of  deliverance,  whom  I  can  never  forget.  The 
dove  was  probably  a  carrier  pigeon  that  she  had  trained  to  do  her 
errands  of  mercy. 

Years  have  passed  since  I  left  my  cell  and  my  little  friends,  the 
dove  and  the  mouse.  The  realization  that  1  should  see  them  no 
more  and  that  my  talks  with  them  would  be  soon  only  a  memory- 
laid  then  a  heaviness  upon  my  heart.  I  hardly  thought  that  this 
would  be  so;  but  when  all.  even  the  familiar  silence,  seemed  to  bid 
me  an  eternal  farewell,  I  could  hardly  keep  back  my  tears. 

And  now  in  my  freedom  1  often  tliink:  "Oh,  if  I  could  meet  once 
more  my  sympathetic  prison  companions." 

The'mouse  and  the  dove — their  friendship  was  true,  so  true  that 
I  rarely  find  such  in  this  world  of  men.  and  I  can  never  forget  them. 


274 


AMERICAN  PAINTERS  OF  OUTDOORS:  THEIR 
RANK  AND  THEIR  SUCCESS:  BY  GILES  ED- 
GERTON 

;HERE  is  a  most  extraoi-dinary  variety  of  national 
characteristics  revealed  in  the  art  of  a  country  when 
that  art  is  spontaneous — or  when  it  is  not,  for  that 
matter;  for  when  art  is  not  spontaneous  a  nation  is 
root-bound  somewhere,  and  the  proof  of  it  is  found 
in  every  genuine  expression  which  the  nation  makes. 
No  more  cruel  criticism  of  the  development  of  a 
country  can  be  made  than  that  the  various  expressions  of  art  are  imi- 
tative, for  imitation  is  only  the  intuitive  response  to  beauty  of  the 
unthinking;  not  the  ignorant,  by  any  means,  but  the  untliinking. 
Wliile  creative  art  may  be  born  out  of  the  so-called  most  ignorant 
soul,  imitation  takes  deepest  root  in  the  ultra-cultured.  A  very 
simple  people,  like  the  Hopi  Indians,  for  instance,  may  think  pro- 
foundly and  philosophically  about  the  conditions  of  life,  the  relation 
of  facts  to  fancy,  the  need  for  a  soul's  development,  with  response  to 
that  need  born  of  imagination — and  such  people,  livnng  in  the  most 
primitive  fasliion,  without  knowledge  of  or  relation  to  the  conditions 
of  modern  civilization,  nevertheless  create  art — religion,  poetry, 
music.  On  the  other  hand,  the  extremely  cultured,  dilettante  com- 
munity has  more  often  than  not  so  overburdened  the  receptive  capacity 
of  the  brain  that  the  pressure  kills  all  creative  quality,  leaving  instead 
appreciation  and  a  desire  to  imitate  or  to  possess  the  beauty  which 
others  have  created. 

Here  in  America,  up  to  within  a  few  decades  past,  we  have  found 
the  creative  quality  flourisliing  only  among  our  aboriginal  people — 
our  Indians,  and  those  other  simple  people  (who  because  of  slavery 
have  held  to  aboriginal  traits),  the  Southern  negro;  wliileth  at  hetero- 
geneous combination  of  all  the  peoples  of  the  rest  of  the  world  which 
we  have  amalgamated  into  an  American  has  been  mainly  imitative 
in  art  expression,  in  all  the  uses  of  imagination  except  along  scientific 
and  financial  lines;  for  both  invention  and  successful  business  re- 
quire imagination,  but  of  the  mathematical  kind,  which,  while  stim- 
ulating activity,  does  not  look  to  beauty  as  the  result  and  purj)ose  of 
achievement.  Of  that  art  which  is  born  of  the  inspired  mind  for  the 
permanent  joy  of  the  world  we  have  but  slowly  gained  the  freedom 
of  mind  and  technique  to  create.  And  what  we  have  achieved  has 
apparently  been  in  spite  of  the  determination  of  the  greater  part  of 
the  nation  to  stultify  all  individual  expression. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  once  spoke  of  "those  y)eople  who  were 
insulted  bv  orieinalitv."     As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is'^still  true  of  the 

275 


OUR  AMERICAN   OUTDOOR   PAINTERS 

mass  of  us.  We  like  only  what  we  are  fauiiliar  with,  the  thing  neatly 
labeled  and  bearing  the  union  stamp  of  unthinking  approval.  ^Mien 
we  are  not  insulted  by  a  new  creative  spirit,  we  are  frightened  by  it. 
We  no  sooner  study  into  the  question  of  antique  rugs  and  learn  all 
their  lovely  variation  by  heart  when  a  rug  wholly  out  of  the  reckoning 
comes  down  from  the  Is^ew  Hampshire  lulls,  a  rug  that  is  unticketed, 
without  precedent,  and  we  are  asked  to  call  it  beautiful  without  a 
recipe.  Then  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  study  of  periods  in  furni- 
ture and  become  versatile  with  every  variation  from  Louis  to  Louis. 
And  we  delve  into  the  dehghtful  subject  of  Oriental  keramics,  and 
we  no  sooner  think  we  know  these  cultured  things  when  out  of  a  clear 
sky,  without  reference  to  our  pride  in  old  formula,  we  find  for  our  use 
in  America  a  new  furniture,  simple  and  beautiful,  made  of  American 
woods,  adapted  to  American  needs,  and  adding  to  our  bewilderment 
is  a  most  extraordinary  variety  of  home-made  potteiy,  modeled  out 
of  the  veiy  soil  which  "bears  the  trees  out  of  which  has  been  made 
the  furniture  which  has  already  troubled  us,  and  we  are  asked  to  see 
and  admire — more  than  that,  to  buy  art  products  of  which  we  know 
notliing,  stamped  with  crests  of  which  we  have  never  heard,  chairs 
without  tradition,  vases  without  history.  Naturally,  as  a  result  we 
are  overwhelmed,  even  annoyed.  And  many  of  us  turn  our  faces 
back  to  the  pleasant  century-old  friends  who  have  come  to  us  from 
the  lulls  of  Athens  and  from  the  byways  of  Rome,  and  later  from  the 
suburbs  of  Paris.  We  feel  safer,  'somehow,  when  we  recognize  the 
labels  again,  and  we  get  rid  of  that  unpleasant  suggestion  of  insulting 
originality. 

Just  as  our  pottery  and  furniture  and  sometimes  our  arcliitecture 
are  developing  this  thoughtless!  heedless!  suggestion  of  individuality, 
so  in  painting,  sculpture,  music  we  find  that  our  bigger  men  consider 
less  and  less  the  fears  of  the  public;  we  find  a  great  musician  going 
away  to  the  heart  of  the  White  Mountains  to  evoke  wondrous  melodies 
for  his  phase  of  American  art.  We  receive  a  rare  inspirited  literature 
out  of  that  arid  region  known  as  the  ^Middle  West.  Paintings  are 
coming  to  us  full  of  the  strange  strength  and  extraordinary  beauty  of 
the  Grand  Canyon;  others  sinaller  but  not  more  subtle  are  finding 
way  into  the  n'letropolitan  galleries  from  the  ocean  inlets  of  New 
England,  and  a  sculpture  of'  towering  strength  and  splendid  rugged- 
ness  has  been  acliieved  in  the  squalid  towns  of  our  Western  prairies, 
while  illustration  that  is  as  fearless  in  source  of  inspiration  as  it  is 
brilliant  in  techniciue  and  honest  in  purpose  is  beginning  to  appear 
occasionally  in  our  most  courageous  magazines.  And  thus  we,  the 
dilethmte,  cultured  ])ublic,  with  oiu-  taste  esta])lished,  with  our  interest 
settled,  with  a  speaking  part  al)out  all  the  arts  of  all  the  different 

276 


OUR  AMERICAN   OUTDOOR  PAINTERS 

nations,  are  called  upon  to  renew  our  youth,  to  cut  a  pathway  through 
the  underbrush  of  our  tangled  knowledge  and  make  room  for  the 
appreciation  of  fresh  ideas,  orimnal  achievement,  for  the  actual  beauty 
of  our  own  land,  presented  by  the  men  who  know  it  best,  the  American 
artists. 

HOW  often  we  hear  the  phrase,  "We  have  so  Uttle  real  art  in 
America;  we  are  not  temperamentally  an  artistic  people." 
It  is  the  same  old  story  of  bricks  without  straw ;  we  will  not  let 
our  artists  live  and  we  complain  that  they  do  not  achieve  more.  For 
instance,  how  much  wheat  would  we  supply  the  markets  of  the  world 
if  we  never  stopped  to  cut  it  'i  It  could  scarcely  grow  itself  out  into 
the  money  changes  of  the  universe.  How  many  inventions  would 
we  supply  for  mechanical  progress  if  no  one  bothered  to  investigate, 
to  supply  money  to  start  factories  for  the  manufacture  of  clever  pat- 
ents ?  The  marvel  is  that  we  have  any  artists,  that  any  imagination 
has  outlived  the  dullness,  impertinence,  non-understanding  of  our 
artificial,  imitative,  supei-ficially  cultivated  public.  We  have  laughed 
at  our  men  of  genius,  those  whom  we  have  not  previously  destroyed 
so  far  asjpossible  in  Europe.  We  have  doubted  the  sincerity  of  the 
greatest  of  them,  we  have  supported  fake  foreign  art  while  our  own  men 
have  all  but  starved,  and  we  have  babbled  the  while  about  the  pau- 
city of  our  art  conditions.  That  our  artists  have  survived,  that  our 
art  has  grown  in  spite  of  the  most  impossible  conditions  ever  established 
by  a  nation  for  the  breeding  of  beauty  is  a  magnificent  tribute  to  the 
purpose  and  force  of  our  native  genius. 

Wlien  the  worst  copy  of  Diaz  or  Daubigny  would  sell  in  New  York 
City  for  a  price  that  would  sound  in  a  South  Washington  Square 
studio  like  a  life  annuity,  why  should  we  expect  men  to  have  the 
courage  and  the  purpose  to  go  away  to  New  England,  to  Colorado, 
to  Long  Island  to  paint  only  what  they  know  and  love  and  feel,  just 
for  the  sake  of  truth  and  the  advancement  of  the  best  art  conditions 
of  their  own  country  'i  Or  when  the  only  music  we  truly  love  and  are 
willing  to  support  is  the  jangle  and  tinkle  of  silly  Italian  opera,  with 
a  high  soprano  note  as  a  standard  of  excellence,  how  does  a  man  find 
the  courage  to  steal  away  to  the  stillness  of  uncut  woodland  in  order 
to  utter  melodies  born  in  his  soul,  out  of  his  own  marvelous  imagi- 
nation, which  the  public  feared  to  love  until  he  bought  their  approval 
with  death  ?  A  great  price,  it  seems  to  those  of  us  who  have  cared 
for  his  melody,  and  yet  one  that  some  men  willingly  pay  for  the  chance 
of  expressing  in  their  own  way  the  quality  of  their  own  understanding 
of  beauty. 

And  so  we  marvel,  perhaps  most  of  all  at  our  landscape  men  in 

281 


OUR  AMERICAN   OUTDOOR  PAINTERS 

America,'  who,  in  spite  of  complete  lack  of  appreciation  for  years, 
without  the  faintest  sympathy  from  the  general  public  toward  that 
fine  sort  of  coura<re  that  holds  genius  to  endeavor,  in  spite  of  rebuff 
and  bitter  misunderstanding,  have  somehow  through  it  all  created 
for  America  an  outdoor  art  so  fresh,  so  sincere,  so  intimate  to  the 
land  to  wliich  it  belongs  that  today  ovir  landscapes  stand  at  the  head 
of  all  the  nature  painting  in  the  world.  Neither  France,  Gei-many, 
England  nor  Spain,  with  the  glory  of  her  new  art  about  her,  rank 
with  our  own  painters  of  all  outdoor  life,  woods,  hills,  orchards,  city 
streets,  prairies,  the  Indian  mesa  and  the  skyscraper.  There  is  not 
only  great  achievement  in  the  work  of  such  men  as  Twachtman, 
Weir,  Tryon,  Metcalf,  Lathrop,  Hassam,  Murphy,  Glackens,  Law- 
son,  Shinn,  but  there  is  also  the  invincible  courage  which  belongs 
only  to  people  of  imagination,  sensitive,  alive  to  all  beauty  and  all  suf- 
fering. And  yet  this  manifestation  of  art  is  as  essentially  American 
as  we  could  well  conceive  such  work  to  be.  There  is  the  same  lyric 
quality  in  our  greatest  landscapes  that  there  is  in  our  most  genuine 
poetry.  We  are  not  an  epic  nation;  we  are  too  easily  successful,  too 
prosperous.  What  of  tragedy  we  have  for  present  history  of  art  is 
brought  to  us  these  days  through  the  steerage  by  the  emotional  ele- 
ments of  foreign  worn-out  civilizations.  And  if  in  this  roundabout 
way  it  finds  place  in  our  art,  it  but  represents  one  phase  of  our  con- 
fused conditions  of  existence.  The  more  national  quality,  especially 
in  painting  and  preeminently  in  the  work  of  our  landscape  men,  is 
this  lyric  note.  We  find  it  repeated  over  and  over  again  and  never 
too  often;  as  witness  the  subjects  most  often  presented,  the  hush  of 
the  woods,  the  still  fragrance  of  early  spring,  the  ghostly  dory  in  a 
twilight  sea,  the  hidden  pool  in  the  yellow  woods,  the  mysterious 
radiance  of  prairie  sunsets,  the  tender,  brooding  quality  of  the  early 
snow  that  comes  sometimes  as  a  kindly  wonderful  garment  of  beauty, 
twilight  about  simple  homes,  isolated  old  farms  with  memories  that 
bring  (luivering  response.  What  do  our  men  not  know  and  what 
have  they  not  told  us  of  all  that  is  characteristic  of  the  rural  life  of 
America,  which  has  been  the  birthplace  of  so  much  of  our  poetry  and 
of  our  strength,  of  the  humor  and  of  the  kindly  tendency  of  our  nation  ? 
As  for  the  techniciue  of  these  men,  there  is  no  one  definite  school  of 
American  landscape  painters.  There  are  men  of  marked  indi^^duality 
who  unquestional)ly  have  many  followers,  men  like  Hassam.  Murphy, 
Metcalf,  and  amoTig  the  illustrators  there  is  Glackens,  who  undoul)ted- 
ly  deserves  the  fame  of  being  the  originator  of  our  most  sincere  and 
significant  school  of  modeiii  illustrators.  And  there  are  I)oth  men  and 
women  who  frankly  acknowledge  liis  work  as  the  insjHration  of  their 
best  achievements.     But  as  a  whole,  there  seems  but  little  thought 

282 


S  is 

3  < 


z  z 

2  < 


WHO  FOR  HIMSELF 

of  establishing  schools,  of  creating  fame  throughjany  essential  indi- 
viduality. The  impulse  which  dominates  these  men  is  much  greater 
than  tMs,  much  more  sincere,  much  more  valuable  to  a  country. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  their  purpose  is  so  quietly  and  honestly  to  ex- 
press just  the  best  that  is  about  them  in  the  most  beautiful  way  that 
they  have  been  able  to  achieve,  that  I  question  if  many  of  them  tliink 
beyond  their  own  work  up  to  its  value  in  the  national  art  history  of 
America. 


WHO  FOR  HIMSELF? 

WHO  has  labored  for  himself  and  who  has  labored  for  mankind  ? 
Is  it  true  that  only  hero  and  sage,  poet  and  great  ruler,  have 
wrought  for  the  masses  ? 
Is  it  true  that  the  masses  have  worked  only  for  themselves,  and  not 

for  each  other  .^ 
Poet  and  sage,  doubtless,  have  spoken  well. 
Hero  and  ruler  have  ofttimes  lived  nobly. 

But  there  is  a  common  man,  working  under  good  or  ill  conditions, 
Hungry  often,  rearing  children  at  sacrifice. 
Fighting  the  fight  in  desperation,  yet  keeping  faith. 
Clean  and  simple,  willing  to  share  all  with  his  neighbor. 
And  there  is  a  common  woman,  a  mother  or  a  helper  of  mothers, 
Or  a  lonely  worker,  foregoing  sweet  dreams  for  strong  realities. 
Knowing  the  tormenting  fingers  of  travail  and  doubt. 
And  yielding  never, — 
Stanch  and  able,  a  fosterer  of  the  future. 
No  creature  of  superficial  smiles. 
He  and  she,  humble  and  unconscious. 
These  and  their  kind,  by  struggle  and  the  spirit  of  victory, 
Serve  mankind,  it  may  be,  as  well  as  any  of  the  rest. 
For,  in  the  realities  of  life,  are  they  not  dumb  poets  ? 
Are  they  not  quiescent  sages  and  unpraised  heroes  ? 
Are  they  not,  though  unrecognized,  the  certain  and  final  rulers  ? 

Marguerite  Ogden  Bigelow. 


283 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  AND  THE  HOME:  THE 
PART  EACH  SHOULD  BEAR  IN  THE  EDUCA- 
TION OF  OUR  CHILDREN:  BY  THE  EDITOR 

INE  of  the  most  vitally  important  of  the  many  demands 
for  improved  conditions  that  we  are  facing  just  now 
is  the  question  of  education.  There  is  no  longer  any 
hesitation  about  admitting  the  fact  that  the  kind  of 
teaching  we  are  giving  our  children  under  the  present 
public  school  system  is  not  at  all  adequate  to  meet  the 
needs  of  modern  life  and  work.  Naturally,  the  plain 
people  who  had  children  whom  they  wanted  taught  in  a  way 
that  would  amount  to  something  were  the  first  to  discover  that 
the  public  schools,  with  all  their  elaborate  equipment,  were  not  equal 
to  the  work.  Then  the  manufacturers  and  business  men  took  up  the 
question  of  more  practical  training  along  industrial  lines  because 
they,  above  all  others,  experienced  the  sharp  need  we  have  today  of 
some  kind  of  teaching  which  will  provide  our  industries  with  thor- 
oughly trained  and  intelligent  workmen.  Legislators  followed  with 
bills  for  industrial  and  agricultural  schools  to  be  carried  on  in  connec- 
tion with  the  public  schools,  and  now  the  educators  themselves  are 
taking  up  the  matter  in  earnest,  frankly  acknowledging  that  the  pres- 
ent system  falls  far  short  of  what  is  needed,  and  bringing  all  their  ex- 
perience along  educational  lines  to  bear  upon  the  problem  of  finding 
some  system  of  education  that  will  tit  the  great  majority  of  children 
for  the  task  of  coping  successfully  with  the  conditions  of  actual  life 
and  work. 

As  this  question  of  education  lies  at  the  root  of  all  our  social 
advancement,  we  have  taken  it  up  in  The  Craftsman  several  times 
and  have  considered  it  from  several  different  points  of  view;  yet  it 
seems  to  us  at  this  time  that  none  of  the  suggestions  offered  take  into 
account  the  one  element  which  is  of  such  vital  importance  in  consider- 
ing a  possili'e  solution  of  the  problem;  that  is,  the  relating  of  home 
influences  and  actual  life  to  educational  work  in  such  a  way  that  the 
theoretical  training  of  the  school  would  necessarily  be  largely  sugges- 
tive and  inspirational  and  the  practical  application  of  it  would  inevi- 
tably take  place  in  the  home.  The  troul)le  is  not  that  the  school 
system  in  itself  is  inadequate,  but  that  it  tries  to  do  too  much;  for,  in 
specializing  as  it  does  to  the  minutest  detail,  the  whole  course  of 
training  encourages  dependence  and  imitation  on  the  part  of  the  pupil 
instead  of  stimulating  him  to  independent  thought.  It  is  quite 
natural  that  such  specialization  of  knowledge  along  industrial  lines 
!-hould  be  warmly  encouraged  by  the  manufacturers  who  need  skilled 
\vorkmen.     In  fact,  tliis  need  has  been  realized  so  keenly  by  a  good 

284 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  AND  THE  HOME 

many  of  our  large  manufacturing  and  other  industrial  establishments 
that  training  schools  have  been  opened  in  connection  with  a  number 
of  factories,  railroads,  mines  and  other  industries  where  skilled  work 
is  necessary. 

As  far  as  they  go,  these  training  schools  offer  the  best  solution  we 
have  of  the  problem  of  practical  education  along  industrial  lines,  for 
they  are  the  modern  representatives  of  the  old  apprenticeship  systems, 
and  the  young  men  who  receive  their  training  under  such  conditions 
not  only  gain  all  the  technical  knowledge  that  is  necessary  but  also  a 
much  broader  grasp  of  general  principles  than  was  possible  to  the 
apprentices  in  the  old  days.  This  method  of  industrial  education 
supplements  the  work  of  the  public  school  along  lines  of  specialized 
training  in  certain  industries  in  precisely  the  same  way  that  it  should 
be  supplemented  by  the  teaching  received  at  home.  By  the  very 
nature  of  the  public  school,  it  is  impossible  for  it  to  come  into  contact 
^^dth  real  conditions  in  industry  precisely  as  it  is  impossible  for  it  to 
encounter  real  conditions  in  life.  Its  function  is  to  supply  the  theo- 
retical training, — to  make  that  as  inspiring  as  possible  and  to  leave  the 
actual  practice  to  be  supplied  in  other  ways. 

THEREFORE,  valuable  as  are  these  training  schools  when  a  part 
of  some  great  industrial  concern,  they  would  fail  of  their  pur- 
pose if  made  a  part  of  the  general  pubhc-school  system.  If  so 
used,  the  ultimate  effect  would  be  much  the  same  as  that  produced  by 
the  elaborate  social  service  system  by  means  of  which  suitable  hygienic 
conditions  are  established  for  the  employees  of  certain  great  indus- 
trial organizations,  recreation  provided,  pleasant  surroundings 
assured  and  even  the  home  life  reo-ulated  according  to  the  most  ad- 
vanced  ideas.  This  social  sei"vice  system  has  attracted  much  favor- 
able attention  and  comment  throughout  the  countiy  and,  in  its  way, 
serves  to  bring  about  better  conditions.  The  weak  point  in  the 
attempt  to  estabhsh  much  the  same  system  all  over  the  land  in  the 
form  of  public  schools,  whether  industrial,  vocational,  or  general,  is  that 
it  comes  dangerously  close  to  paternalism  and  tends  to  the  ultimate 
subjection  of  the  people  to  our  great  commercial  system. 

Public  opinion,  however,  is  apt  in  the  long  run  to  be  pretty  nearly 
right,  and  the  social  ser\ace  system,  admirable  as  it  has  been  in  some 
ways,  has  been  by  no  means  generally  successful  when  it  came  to 
dealing  with  actual  conditions.  The  reason  for  this  failure  seems  to 
have  been  that  the  philanthropic  theorists  have  not  sufficiently  taken 
into  account  the  personal  equation.  For  example,  one  of  these  great 
commercial  concerns  which  is  noted  throughout  America  for  the 
money  it  has  spent  and  the  pains  it  has  taken  to  provide  an  environ- 

28s 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  AND  THE  HOME 

ment  calculated  to  insure,  down  to  the  last  detail,  the  comfort,  pleasure 
and  welfare  of  its  employees,  has  seen  its  great  factory  almost  dis- 
rupted by  the  fact  that  the  employees  themselves  hotly  resent  the 
benevolent  supervision  which  seems  to  them  to  encroach  upon  their 
personal  liberty  and  to  relegate  them  to  the  position  of  irresponsible 
children  who  must  be  taken  care  of  and  taught  how  to  play  as  well  as 
how  to  work. 

The  fact  is  that  the  workman  is  apt  to  be  a  fairly  independent  and 
self-respecting  citizen  and  he  does  not  enjoy  being  put  under  tutelage 
in  what  he  considers  peculiarly  his  own  affairs.  And  he  is  right,  for 
the  tendency  of  any  personal  guardianship  is  diametrically  opposed 
to  all  fundamental  ideas  of  freedom  and  democracy.  Though  few 
people  would  admit  it,  this  kind  of  social  service  is  not  far  removed 
from  the  much-dreaded  paternalism,  for  what  it  really  does  is  to  set  a 
certain  class  of  people  aside  as  servants  and  to  train  them  and  their 
children  for  that  service,  much  as  race-horses  are  bred  for  the  track. 
And  the  worst  part  of  it  is  that  the  shrewd  and  far-seeing  captains  of 
industry,  whose  gifts  for  the  furtherance  of  such  social  service  and 
careful  training  are  large,  know  exactly  how  this  sort  of  benevolence 
tends  to  enslave  people  to  our  well-organized  industrial  and  com- 
mercial system, — and  deny  it.  They  talk  eloquently  of  the  "uplift" 
of  the  common  people;  of  sharing  profits  and  prosperity  with  the 
workingman  and  of  admitting  labor  into  partnership  with  capital, 
when  all  the  time  they  know  that  it  is  merely  a  daring  and  far-sighted 
business  policy,  for  they  are  taking  the  surest  way  to  perpetuate  a 
system  that,  profitable  as  it  is  to  them,  is  already  too  strong  for  the 
best  interests  of  the  country. 

NOW  the  pu])lic  school,  if  it  stands  for  any  thing  that  means  wide 
usefulness,  should  stand  for  public  opinion  and  minister  to  the 
welfare  of  all  the  people.  Pul)lic  education,  which  is  supported 
by  the  people  and  exists  only  by  reason  of  such  support,  is  in  no  posi- 
tion to  say  arl>itrarily  that  certain  children  shall  he  educated  to  serve 
certain  industrial  purposes.  In  just  so  far  as  it  advances  along  these 
lines  it  is  doing  exactly  the  same  sort  of  thing  that  is  done  by  the 
social  service  department  of  a  large  industrial  concern;  that  is.  it  is 
trying  to  salve  the  wounds  of  those  who  suft'er  from  the  unecjual 
opportunities  brought  about  In*  false  standards  of  life  and  work, 
and  to  make  them  contented  to  receive,  as  a  gift  from  a  powerful  and 
well  organized  system,  what  they  should  rather  t)e  encouraged  to  go 
out  and  obtain  for  themselves.  Contentment  is  not  what  is  needed  at 
this  stage  of  our  country's  growth,  but  unrest;  and  by  this  we  do  not 
mean  the  l)itler,  unreasoning  discontent  which  brings  about  revolution 

286 


THE   PUBLIC   SCHOOL  .VXD   THE   HO^NIE 

and  disaster,  but  the  wholesome  unrest  that  alone  makes  for  growth. 

Therefore,  when,  in  response  to  the  widespread  demand  for  the 
sort  of  education  that  can  be  apphed  to  the  practical  affairs  of  life, 
prominent  educators  advocate  seriously  the  further  specialization 
and  localization  of  education  and  the  teaching  of  trades  along  both 
practical  and  theoretical  lines,  it  is  time  for  tliem  to  stop  and  con- 
sider this  same  question  of  the  personal  equation  which  has  proven 
such  a  stumbling  block  to  the  social  service  system.  One  man  sug- 
gests that  a  special  kind  of  education  be  j)rovided  for  each  different 
locality.  To  a  certain  extent  this  is  wise,  but  not  when  it  is  carried 
too  far.  In  fact,  the  same  objection  obtains  with  regard  to  localiza- 
tion which  is  so  often  urged  against  over-specialization,  and  that  is 
that  too  much  detail  training  is  apt  to  weaken  initiative  and  deaden 
natural  capacity  rather  than  to  stimulate  the  mind  to  independent 
endeavor.  As  we  have  so  often  urged,  the  great  value  of  edu- 
cation lies  in  the  side  that  is  inspirational  and  suggestive, — an  ele- 
ment that  is  entirely  lost  when  the  training  becomes  formal  and 
stereotyped.  If  school  training  is  to  be  anything  more  than  imitative, 
it  cannot  be  too  highly  specialized,  or  can  it,  under  any  circumstances, 
be  localized.  ^Mien  it  goes  thus  far  it  is  stepping  outside  its  own 
province  and  is  taking  upon  itself  the  responsibility  wliich  should 
belong  to  life,  to  industry,  and  especially  to  home  influences  and  sur- 
roundings. 

It  is  a  favorite  theory  with  teachers  that  the  special  value  of  the 
right  kind  of  education  lies  in  finding  out  the  "bent"  of  the  pupil 
and  developing  that  at  the  expense  of  everything  else.  We  main- 
tain that  this  does  more  harm  than  almost  any  other  one  thing  in  the 
entire  system.  The  school  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  development 
of  any  special  talent  and  no  right  to  say  this  boy's  bent  is  toward 
music,  or  drawing,  or  natural  history,  or  blacksmithing,  and  then  to 
educate  him  exclusively  along  those  lines.  It  is  the  boy's  own  busi- 
ness to  find  out  for  himself  what  he  wants  to  do  when  it  comes  to 
dealing  ^^-ith  the  actual  affairs  of  life,  and  if  he  has  what  he  most 
needs, — the  Ijackground  of  a  sound  and  general  education  that 
equips  him  thoroughly  as  regards  the  essentials  and  confines  its 
further  efforts  to  stimulating  him  to  study  and  work, — he  will  have 
no  difficulty  in  specializing  when  the  necessity  arises.     ;   .;    j    ; 

JOHN  STUART  ]MILL  says:  "Education  makes  a  man  a  more 
intelligent  shoemaker,  if  that  be  his  occuj)ation,  but  not  l)y 
teaching  him  how  to  make  shoes;  it  does  so  by  the  mental  exer- 
cise it  gives  and  the  habits  it  impresses."  This  goes  right  to  the  root 
of  the  matter,  and  yet  the  whole  trend  of  the  present  move  toward 

287 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL  AND  THE  HOME 

highly  speciahzed  industrial  education  is  against  it.  The  tendency 
now  is  to  teach  the  boy,  down  to  the  last  detail,  how  to  make  the 
shoes  and  to  leave  him  no  room  for  choice  in  after  life  as  to  whether 
he  would  rather  make  shoes  or  do  something  else  for  which  he  should 
have  been  equally  well  fitted.  We  all  agree  that  Ijetter  all-round 
men  and  women  were  made  by  the  life  and  training  of  fifty  years  ago, 
when  the  village  school,  together  with  the  apprenticeship  system  and 
the  common  duties  of  life  in  the  home  and  on  the  farm,  afforded  all 
the  instruction  and  practice  that  was  necessary  for  the  carrpng  on 
of  agriculture  and  the  ordinary  industries.  If  a  boy  wanted  to  learn 
a  trade,  he  was  first  thoroughly  grounded  in  the  rudiments  of  educa- 
tion in  the  district  school  and  then  was  apprenticed  to  a  worker  in 
some  trade  or  craft,  who  taught  him  to  become  a  thorough  workman. 
And  such  workmen  as  they  made  then  did  not  always  confine  them- 
selves to  manual  labor  in  after  life,  as  even  the  most  superficial  study 
of  the  industrial  history  of  this  country  will  show.  The  point  is  that 
the  school  did  its  appointed  work  and  the  rest  was  done  in  the  work- 
shop and  at  home. 

There  is  no  denjdng  that  conditions  have  greatly  changed  and 
that,  as  tilings  are  liow,  the  sort  of  training  that  made  sterling  and 
resourceful  men  and  women  of  our  grandfathers  and  grandmothers 
would  not  l)e  possible  in  this  day  and  generation.  But  the  change  in 
conditions  aftords  no  good  and  sufficient  reason  for  the  change  in 
standards.  If  individual  initiative,  based  upon  and  inspired  by  a 
thorough  education  along  a  few  absolutely  essential  lines,  was  good 
then,  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  be  good  now.  The  crucial 
point  of  the  whole  matter  is  that,  under  the  present  system,  the 
school  is  doing  too  much  work  and  failing  to  produce  adequate  re- 
sults. The  sole  purpose  of  education  should  be  to  quicken  the  mind 
and  rouse  the  spirit  of  investigation  to  study  what  has  been  done  as  a 
basis  for  new  achievement.  When  this  spirit  is  once  awakened  every 
principle  that  is  learned  theoretically  is  regarded  as  useful  only  in  so 
far  as  it  may  be  applied  to  the  solution  of  some  practical  problem. 
The  case  is  iidmiraljly  stated  by  Mr.  William  C.  A.  Hanimel,  of  the 
State  Normal  and  Industrial  College  at  Greensboro,  North  Carolina, 
when  he  advises: 

"That  the  schools  be  better  adapted  to  the  needs  of  an  industrial 
society.  It  is  not  so  much  a  question  of  adding  to  or  extending  the 
curriculum — the  curriculum  is  already  overcrowded — as  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  revising  it,  of  discarding  non-essentials;  that  somebody  dis- 
cover and  weed  out  the  non-essentials,  thus  lea\dng  more  time  for 
things  of  vital  relation  to  life;  less  time  to  reading  and  rereading 
froni  a  nice    })ictorial  chart;  'Is  it  an  ax?'  and  more  to  finding  out 

288 


THE  PUBLIC   SCHOOL  AND   THE   HOI^IE 

about  the  real  ax ;  less  time  to  dates  in  history  and  more  to  cause  and 
effect;  less  time  to  bank  discount,  partial  payment  and  the  like  and 
more  to  finding  out  how  much  father  lost  on  a  bale  of  cotton  and  why; 
less  time  to  the  intricacies  of  grammar  and  more  to  acquiring  a  com- 
mand of  simple,  forceful  English ;  less  time  to  the  geography  of  Africa 
and  more  to  the  natural  drainage  of  the  State  and  the  power  in  her 
river  system,  so  that  North  Carolina  men  may  develop  it;  less  time  to 
abstract  problems  in  chemistry  and  physics,  and  more  to  the  com- 
position of  soils  and  clays;  more  to  food  values  and  sanitation;  more 
to  testing  cloth  that  passes  for  'all  wool'  and  'pure  linen';  more  to 
the  laws  and  practical  application  of  that  great  agent  of  power,  elec- 
tricity, and  where  and  how  we  can  best  get  more  of  it;  less  time  to 
copying  pictures  and  more  to  drawing  as  an  expression  of  ideas;  less 
time  to  nomenclature  in  botany  and  more  to  plant  physiology  and 
hygiene,  and  the  cure  of  plant  diseases  and  the  means  of  conserving 
our  forests.  In  short,  economize  the  child's  time  and  labor,  husband 
them  for  that  which  bears  most  upon  liis  life  and  the  industries  of  the 
State,  and  then  use  them  to  the  best  advantage.  Make  for  applied 
education." 

This  sort  of  training  would  tend  to  give  to  the  pupil  mental  stim- 
ulus in  just  about  the  same  degree  that  the  Church  gives  moral 
stimulus,  and  in  doing  so  it  would  be  remaining  entirely  within  its 
province  and  wasting  no  time  on  specialization  that  should  be  prac- 
tical and  yet  must  remain  theoretical.  With  direct  and  vital  applica- 
tion at  home  of  everything  that  is  taught  in  the  schools,  think  of  the 
inducement  to  the  boy  who  had  learned  something  about  geology  to 
pursue  it  until  he  had  found  out  everything  he  wanted  to  know  re- 
garding the  formation  of  the  earth  ^^^th  which  he  had  to  deal;  think 
of  the  value  of  natural  history  in  helping  to  an  understanding  of  the 
right  use  of  domestic  animals;  think  of  the  manifold  uses  to  wliich 
liistory  could  be  put  if  it  were  made  to  inspire  independent  thought  and 
investigation  in  all  the  affairs  of  human  life.  A  boy  so  grounded 
would  never  need  to  have  liis  "bent"  discovered  and  specialized  by  a 
discriminating  teacher  in  order  to  do  effective  work  in  the  world,  for 
he  would  do  liis  own  specializing  when  the  time  came. 

BUT  until  the  schools  realize  and  admit  that  education  as  a 
whole  is  something  with  which  they  cannot  cope  unaided,  our 
children  will  be  the  subject  of  numerous  experiments  that  are 
all  more  or  less  futile  in  producing  the  desired  results.  Before  the 
problem  can  be  solved  there  is  another  educational  factor  that  must 
receive  much  more  serious  consideration,  and  that  is  the  responsi- 
bility that  rests  upon  the  teaching  received  at  home.     Wliat  if  old 

289 


THE   PUBLIC   SCHOOL  AND   THE    H0:ME 

primitive  conditions  are  cJianged,  the  old  liandicrat'ts  superseded  and 
all  of  life  made  easier, — it  does  not  argue  that  the  same  constructive 
spirit  which,  out  of  those  conditions,  brought  about  the  change  does 
not  yet  prevail.  Greater  leisure  and  ease  of  living  does  not  necessi- 
tate idleness  and  tri\-iality.  Instead  of  that,  it  gives  the  opportunity 
for  a  much  better  use  of  the  time.  The  mother  who  has  some  time 
to  spare  from  household  drudgery  can  surely  use  it  to  teach  her 
daughters  the  knowledge  that  every  girl  needs  about  home  hygiene, 
care  of  house  and  children  and  such  crafts  as  every  woman  should 
know.  The  schools  are  trying  to  do  this  with  classes  in  cooking, 
sewing  and  home  economics;  but  such  work  does  not  belong  to  the 
school,  for  all  that  can  be  given  in  the  classroom  is  at  best  only  theo- 
retical training  that  should  be  supplementary  to  the  practical  instruc- 
tion obtained  at  home,  and  should  serve  merely  to  inspire  the  student 
to  the  more  intelligent  eti'ort  that  results  from  a  broader  vie\v))oint 
and  more  thorough  knowledge. 

The  same  principle  applies  to  the  boys  at  home  or  on  the  farm,  for 
few  fathers  are  so  preoccupied  that  they  could  not  afford  to  admit 
their  sons  into  such  a  share  of  their  work  and  their  interests  as  would 
naturally  tend  to  develop  interest  and  resourcefulness  in  the  boy. 
Eveiy  lesson  learned  at  school  could  be  applied  to  some  definite 
work  at  home  and  the  father  and  mother  would  find  their  greatest 
interest  and  pleasure  in  keeping  pace  with  the  school  training  and 
doing  their  own  part  toward  giving  the  child  the  complete  education 
that  he  could  never  get  from  the  classroom  alone. 

Naturally,  before  the  home  can  be  expected  to  do  its  share  toward 
solving  this  prolilem  of  education  that  now  liesets  the  country  and 
puzzles  the  wisest  heads  among  us.  there  would  have  to  be  some 
change  in  the  character  of  the  home.  But  of  this  we  do  not  despair. 
The  present  tendency  toward  trivial  pursuits  and  artificial  living  is 
merely  the  reaction  from  the  hard  and  burdensome  drudgery  of 
household  and  farm  work  a  generation  or  two  ago.  When  the  burden 
was  lifted  by  the  introduction  of  machines  and  labor-saving  devices 
it  was  only  natural  that  the  pendulum  should  swing  in  the  opposite 
direction  and  that  work  and  education  alike  should  be  delegated  to 
the  organizations  of  trained  workers  outside  the  home.  But  it  is 
pretty  nearly  time  for  the  pendidum  to  swing  back,  and  even  now  we 
are  bejjinniu";  to  realize  that  liiihter  burdens  and  added  leisure  mean 
that  we  now  have  time  for  real  life  and  moral  and  mental  growth  on 
a  broader  scale  than  we  have  ever  known  before.  When  we  grasp 
the  opportunity  and  utilize  it  for  the  training  of  our  children,  there 
will  be  no  more  ground  for  complaint  against  the  schools  for  not 
giving  them  the  best  and  most  practical  training  for  life  and  work. 

290 


1 


MY  GARDEN:  BY  EMERY  POTTLE 

HE  old  story  of  the  Beginning  of  Things — to  nie  the 
most  marvelous  of  all  written  stories — had  its  moment 
of  greatest  beauty  and  its  moment  of  grimmest  tragedy 
in  a  garden.  They  called  it  Eden,  that  garden.  1 
wonder  why.'  The  name  is  very  beautiful.  It  seems 
to  me  as  I  think  of  it,  that  no  fitter  name  could  have 
been  chosen.  Yet  perhaps  the  Garden,  which  was 
divinely  lovely,  has  become  so  interwoven,  has  so  flowered  in  my 
imagination,  that  its  name  has  shared  its  sovereign  grace,  and  1  can- 
not rightly  judge.  Garden  is,  too,  a  beautiful  name.  It  comes 
softly  to  the  lips  and  has  a  gentle  open  sound.  I  like  it  best  in  my 
own  language,  though  that  may  be  sheer  insularity.  I  like  it  better 
than  the  Italian  giardino,  and  nauch,  much  better  than  Garten  or 
jardin.  But,  after  all,  it  is  difficult  to  discriminate.  It  is  the  garden 
itself,  not  its  enforced  name,  which  enchants. 

After  the  storm  and  stress  of  Creation,  God  put  the  first  man  in 
the  first  garden.  And  they  say  that  the  Almighty  Himself  came  there 
"to  walk  in  the  cool  of  the  day."  He  must  have  needed  the  grateful 
calm  and  relaxation,  when  that  tumultuous  week  of  Genesis  was 
well  over.  I  have  wondered  often  why  all  of  the  Great  Jehovah's 
priests  have  not  since  been  gardeners;  I  confess  I've  found  many 
gardeners  wonderfully  good  priests.  There  is  a  rare  bond  between 
gardens  and  religious  meditation,  and  between  gardens  and  the  only 
other  great  emotion  we  are  capable  of.  Gai'dens  are  a  symbol,  per- 
fect, tragic  almost,  of  both  these  emotions.  I  do  not  offer  tliis  as  a 
new  thought.  It  is  a  very  old  one,  older  than  the  poet  who  wrote 
the  story  of  the  Beginning  of  Tilings.  Old  as  the  leaves  of  the 
trees,  the  petals  of  the  flowers,  old  as  the  first  man  who  prayed,  the 
first  lover.  All  poets  know  it  only  too  well,  the  poets  who  sing  and 
the  poets  who  are  mute.  But  of  the  immortal  Garden — I  suppose 
le  bon  Dieu,  who  is  very  wise  and  who  slumbers  not,  nor  sleeps,  was 
really  the  originator  of  the  thought  as  of  the  symbol.  He  knew  quite 
well  His  two  poor  little  children,  in  His  own  image.  He  knew,  when 
He  put  them  in  His  Garden,  He  must  have  known,  that  even  as  He 
walked  at  twilight,  they,  too,  would  walk;  and  that  thoughts  of  Him 
would  not  suffice  them.  I  sometimes  think  it  was  just  a  little  unkind 
on  the  part  of  the  good  God  to  begin  by  forl)iddingthem  the  very  thing 
those  long,  intimate  strolls  at  evening  was  bound  to  set  free,  the  thing 

He  knew  must  ultimately  happen 

Well,  it  did  happen,  and  le  bon  Dieu  became  again  the  terrifying 
Jehovah.  The  two  bewildered  young  creatures  without  .benefit  of 
clergy,  were  sent  off  frightened  out  of  their  minds  by  the  flaming 
sword  and  the  results  of  their  immemorial  disobedience.     So  thev 

291 


MY   GARDEN 

lost  their  garden.  It  was  forever  forsaken.  I  do  not  know  whether 
God  ever  walked  there  again  after  that — or  whether,  perhaps,  He 
walks  there  now  in  the  coo!  of  the  day.  If  so.  He  must  have  found 
it  very  lonely;  He  must  still  find  it  very  lonely — for  to  Him,  they  say, 
a  thousand  years  are  but  as  a  day.  A  forsaken  garden  is  a  lonely 
place,  a  forsaken  garden  where  once  Love  walked  in  the  twilight. 
So  my  garden  is  a  lonely  place.  1  say  my  garden,  though  it  is  not 
mine  and  never  will  be,  any  n:ore  than  the  country  it  is  in  is  uiy  country. 
If  I  were  very  rich  I  should  buy  the  garden.  But  I  am  not  at  all 
rich.  It  would  not,  in  one  sense,  be  then  any  more  mine  than  it  is 
now.  As  one  grows  older  one  learns  to  take  considerable  pleasure  in 
the  unattainable  possessions  of  others.  It  is  something  to  reflect 
upon  the  French  proverb — "My  glass  is  not  large,  but  I  drink  from 
my  glass." 

YES,  owning  my  garden  would  have  one  peerless  advantage: 
I  could  keep  out  of  it  the  people  I  don't  like.  They  come  now, 
many  of  them,  noisy  and  chattering,  with  quite  as  much  right 
as  I,  and  penetrate  ruthlessly  into  my  choicest  retreats.  Now  and 
again  there  is  one  who  really  loves  it.  But  that  terrifies  me.  I'm 
always  thinking:  There  is  the  creature  who  will  buy  my  garden  and 
keep  vie  out  of  it.  There  ought  to  be  a  law  against  selling  old  and 
beautiful  gardens.  Some  glorious  dead  Ctesar  should  leave  them 
in  his  will  to  all  the  lovers  of  all  the  lands. 

It  is  a  sinful  thing  to  say  that  I  am  half-persuaded,  but  I  may  as 
well  confess  it,  I  am  glad  that  Eve  found  out  the  secret  of  the  garden. 
If  she  had  not  I  suppose  there  would  be  no  gardens  today  for  me — 
or,  for  that  matter,  any  us  for  the  gardens.     Poor  Eve! 

How  full  Italy  is  of  gardens — forsaken  gardens.  It  is  a  land  of 
beauty — forsaken  beauty.  To  walk  in  Italy  is  to  walk  in  the  cool  of 
the  day  alone  in  an  old  garden.  The  pathos  of  it  is  overwhelming. 
It  is  on  one's  heart  sobbing,  and  it  is  often  a  sob  in  one's  throat. 
I  am  never  certain  why  it  is  so.  It  is  an  eternal  memory  of  an  "Air 
doux  et  tendre — jadis  aime,"  which  one  can  never  quite  recall.  That 
is  it,  I  think.  That  is  the  secret.  One  can  never  remember  all  of  that 
lovely  forgotten  air.  So  it  haunts.  And  it  makes  one  desperately 
sad.  In  the  evening,  which  is  the  time  of  recall,  I  walk  in  my  garden 
and  try  to  remember.  To  remember  what  ?  Ah,  if  I  knew !  It  is 
there,  just  beyond  the  threshold  of  consciousness,  the  thing  I  would 
give  ail  I  possess  to  call  back.  Perhaps  it  is  another  life,  another 
incarnation  here,  when  my  garden  was  mine  in  truth.  It  would  not 
be  too  strange.     My  own  dead  life  and  another's. 

Little  wonder  that  one  hears  old  voices  in  one's  heart  in  Italy. 

292 


MY   GARDEN 

The  great  priests,  the  great  lovers,  they  were  once  in  Italy.  They 
walked  in  these  deserted  gardens.  Their  passions  and  their  prayers — 
what  passions,  what  prayers! — quiver  still  in  the  deep  silent  shadows. 
.  .  .  .  And  they  are  mine  and  not  mine.  Strange,  they  all  are 
departed.  Strange,  these  gardens,  so  many  of  them,  have  lost  the 
magic  of  a  Presence.  Little  stray  Edens,  they  are  in  punishment 
for  the  perilous  peace  they  opened  to  mad  lovers. 

My  own  garden  I  like  best  at  twilight.  In  the  daytime  it  belongs  to 
anybody.  But  toward  sunset  the  tourists  begin  to  get  cross  and  tired 
and  go  back  to  their  hotels.  Then  I  take  my  boat  and  row  alone  to 
the  water  gate.  For  my  garden  is  on  a  lake — the  most  beautiful 
lake  in  the  world.  It  is  best  to  go  just  at  the  moment  when  the 
mountains  drip  with  amethyst  dyes  and  the  dyes  flow  down  into  the 
water  and  stain  it  till  the  world  seems  a  fabric  dipped  in  purple. 
It  reminds  me  often  of  the  miracle  at  the  marriage  of  Cana  when  at  the 
last,  for  the  sake  of  love,  the  water  was  turned  into  wine. 

AT  THE  water  gate  I  pause  before  calling  to  the  gardener — my 
gardener — to  let  me  in.  It  is  pleasant  to  see  that  gate,  ancient, 
ivy-grown,  standing  in  the  shadow  of  its  sculptured  cypresses. 
But  it  is  a  lonely  gate,  always  waiting  for  a  step  which  never  comes. 
.     .     .     .     Then  I  call,  and  Giuseppe  answers. 

Giuseppe  is,  of  course,  the  gardener.  He  is  old  but  he  can  still 
sing  very  well.  The  first  time  I  went  to  my  garden  I  heard  him  sing- 
ing a  Neapolitan  love  song  in  a  minor  key,  full  of  a  desperate  longing. 
I  can  never  hear  it  now  away  from  that  place  without  a  like  longing 
for  the  garden.  "  Cuarda  cua  chistu  ciardino,"  he  sang,  which  means 
in  English — nothing  worth  translating.  He  is  old  and  short  and  fat. 
His  hair  is  white,  his  neat  little  beard  is  white.  His  face  is  tanned 
and  wrinkled  and  benign  as  the  good  earth.  Like  liis  voice,  his  eyes 
are  young  and  smiling.  He  is  a  poet,  a  gardener,  and  sometliing  of 
a  saint.  WTien  he  speaks  his  voice  is  slow  and  round  and  full.  It 
is  his  pride,  in  a  locality  where  only  a  bastard  dialect  is  spoken,  to 
use  beautiful  Itahan.  I  can  imagine  no  more  perfect  gardener  on 
earth. 

"It  is  as  beautiful  as  ever,  Giuseppe." 

"Yes,  signore,"  he  smiles.     "I  do  my  best.     But "  his  face 

clouds — "I  am  sad  in  heart.  Of  what  use?  No  one  comes  but 
strangers." 

"There  is  no  news  from  the  padrona  then?" 

"None,  signore.  She  never  comes  to  see  what  I  have  done. 
Almost,  almost,  I  have  lost  my  will  to " 

"No,  no,  Giuseppe." 

297 


MY   GARDEN 

"Ah,  no,  signore,  1  have  not.  It  is  my  life,  this  garden.  If  it 
shonid  die,  I  should  die  also.     It  is  religion,  beauty,  love,  all  for  me." 

"Yes — I  understand  that." 

"Come  to  see  the  roses,  signore,''  he  laughs.  And  we  go  to  see 
the  roses.  But  I  cannot  describe  the  roses  in  my  garden.  I  should 
not  know  how  to  speak  of  them.  They  are  a  sweet  madness  to 
assail  the  steadiest  head. 

Presently  he  leaves  me  alone.  He  is  a  person  of  delicate  sensi- 
bilities; he  knows  1  like  best  to  be  alone  there.  And  then  it  is  all  my 
garden — or,  perhaps,  all  his.     At  any  rate  we  do  not  interfere.     Not 

even    the    shadowy  Marchesa    X who  owns — sad  word — our 

garden,  troubles  me.  She  never  comes  now.  It  is  said  she  was 
unhappy  here,  from  which  I  argue  she  is  an  unworthy  person  and  has 
done  well  to  solace  herself  in  Paris.  Giuseppe  says  it  is  fifteen  years 
since  she  last  came.  He  mourns  not  her,  but  her  praise.  It  is  dull 
business  for  an  Italian  servant  never  to  see  his  padrona. 

It  lies  on  the  face  of  a  great  jjromontory  jutting  out  into  the  lake, 
my  garden.  A  liigh,  proud,  wooded  promontory  open  to  all  sun 
and  wind  and  the  whole  stretch  of  the  lake.  On  its  very  crest  is  the 
loggia.  It  is  like  a  bit  of  some  old  cloister,  arched  and  secluded. 
The  Allies  grow  green  on  its  walls  and  pillars  and  balustrades  in 
spring;  in  autumn  they  are  blood-red.  To  me  it  is  the  loggia  divina 
and  here  I  come  first  of  all  to  watch  on  one  side  the  sunset,  on  the 
other  the  reflected  glory  of  it.  All  the  flowers  of  Paradise  are  in  the 
sky.     The  mountains  are  the  walls  of  heaven,  the  lake  is  the  gate. 

Emeralds   and   amethysts   and   opals   and   pearls It  is 

useless  to  talk  of  it.  One  ])ecomes  only  banal  and  commonplace. 
It  is  none  of  those  things  I  have  foolishly  named.  It  is  only  sunset 
on  the  most  beautiful  lake  1  know.  The  land  is  serene.  A  lumi- 
nous peace  falls.  Out  of  the  watery  distance  come  the  sweet  wet 
notes  of  vesper  bells.  I  seem  to  see  the  silence,  to  feel  the  shadows. 
1  am  in  my  garden. 

Later  I  walk  the  secret  paths  that  also  wait  for  the  step  which 
never  comes.  The  dusk  advances  slowly,  a  gradual  tide  unheard. 
The  blossoms  lose  their  color  and  become  frail,  pale  chalices  of 
fragrance  against  the  green  dark.  The  wide,  wonderfid  slope  of 
oleanders,  tlie  very  flame  of  love  in  the  sun,  is  flickering  and  ghostly. 
The  leaves  grow  heavier,  the  hedges  thicker,  the  trees  more  massive. 
It  is  all  peace.  There  are  gardens  which  are  sinister 
and  hint  of  murder  and  unholy  doings.  Not  so  mine.  There  has 
been  no  bloodshed  lu>re.     Jt  is  a  garden  for  love. 

As  I  go  uj)  and  down  the  stone  stairways  and  on  through  the 
graveled  paths,  the  sadness  of  it  all  deepens  like  the  night.     It  is 

^98 


A  RAINBOW  SONG 

almost  an  agony.  I,  like  the  gate,  like  the  paths,  like  the  silent  shut 
■palazzo,  like  the  prayerless  chapel,  find  myself  wailing,  waiting,  wait- 
ing, for  the  step  wliieh  never  comes,  for  the  hands  which  never  are 
stretched  out;  for  the  voice  which  never  speaks.  It  is  Site  whom  I 
can  almost  remember,  She  who  is  the  ''Air  doux  et  tendre — jadis 
aime — "  She  who  is  Love  and  the  Dream  of  Love;  She  whom  every 
wanderer  like  me  in  the  forsaken  Italian  gardens  half  hopes  to  meet — 
and  who  never  comes. 

Once  in  my  garden  I  stayed  late  and  saw  the  full  moon  shoulder 
itself  over  the  Grigna.  I  stood  in  what  Giuseppe  calls  the  nido 
d'amore — a  nest  in  the  rock  above  the  water,  overhung  with  green. 
One  descends  to  it  by  a  long  flight  of  stone  steps  and  there  is  a  stone 
bench  beneath  the  trees  where  one  may  sit.  It  is  cruel  to  go  there 
alone;  crueller  to  go  with  someone  whom  one  does   not  love. 

.  The  moon  shouldered  itself  over  the  Grigna.  I  rested  on  the 
stone  balustrade  listening  to  the  lake  plaintively  beating  an  ancient 
rhythm  at  the  feet  of  the  rocks.  The  light  crept  along  the  water 
like  delicate  trembling  golden  fingers.     There  was  no  wind;  only  the 

"wandering  airs"  of  perfume.     A   nightingale  sang I 

cannot  put  it  into  words.      It  was  too  beautiful.     And  it  was  the 

saddest   moment   of   my    life Almost,    almost,    I 

remembered. 

A  RAINBOW  SONG 

RAINBOW,  Rainbow  over  my  head. 
Orange,  violet,  yellow  and  red. 
Blue  and  indigo,  Ijordered  with  green. 
Rainbow,  Rainbow,  what  is  your  sheen  .•' 
Snatched-up  color,  glimmering  near, — 
Only  Shadows,  Shadows  of  Here! 

Mist  in  dawn-light,  floating  in  whirls. 
Heart  of  opals  and  satin  of  pearls. 
Shining  feathers  of  ring-throated  dove. 
Tears  made  bright  with  the  wonder  of  love. 
Fairy  Imbbles  poised  in  the  sim. 
Trembling  cobwebs,  gossamer  spun. 
Peacock  tails  and  lining  of  shells. 
Morning-glory's  wide-awake  bells, — • 
These  throw  shadows  into  the  sky 
These  weave  Rainbow  Ribbons  on  high. 

AiLEEN  Cleveland  Higgins. 

299 


THE  THEORY  OF  GROSVENOR  ATTERBURY, 
WHO    BASES    ALL    HIS    WORK    UPON    THE 
PRLXCIPLE  THAT   ORIGINALITY  IN  ARCHI 
TECTURE  SPRINGS  ONLY  FROM  THE  DIRECT 
MEETING  OF  MATERIAL  CONDITIONS 


1 

1 

TV 

NE  of  the  most  hopeful  signs  that,  as  our  national  life 
gains  in  coherence  and  in  unity  of  purpose,  we  are  de- 
veloping a  distinctive  and  characteristic  type  of  arch- 
itecture, is  found  in  the  fact  that  our  dwellings  are 
growing  more  and  more  expressive  of  our  needs,  of 
the  conditions  of  our  life  and  of  our  character  as  a 
people,  and  that  this  is  true  not  only  of  the  far  West 
but  of  the  more  settled  and  conventional  East.  It  is  only  natural 
that  our  first  original  modern  expression  of  domestic  architecture 
should  show  itself  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  for  the  people  of  the  West  are 
above  all  things  pioneers  and  have  a  way  of  dashing  aside  all  tradition 
and  prejudice  and  getting  directly  at  the  thing  that  meets  their  re- 
quirements in  the  rnost  practical  way.  The  people  of  the  East  are 
inevitably  more  conservative,  and  the  fact  that  Europe  is  easier  of 
access  to  them  accounts  for  their  more  general  dependence  upon 
architectural  forms  that  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  what  they  have 
seen  and  adnurcd  abroad.  Especially  is  this  true  of  our  Eastern 
architects,  who  for  the  most  part  are  coiitent  to  found  all  they  do  upon 
some  recognized  and  established  form  that  has  gained  the  approval 
of  other  and  more  widely  cultured  peoples.  But  now  and  then  a 
pioneer  comes  forward,  not  alone  from  among  the  new  men  who  have 
a  name  to  make  and  who  therefore  can  afi^ord  to  take  the  risk  of  ex- 
pressing an  original  idea,  but  from  the  ranks  of  our  best-known  archi- 
tects. And  when  the  latter  happens,  we  usually  get  something  so 
well  worth  while  that  it  is  fitted  to  stand  as  one  of  the  foundation 
stones  of  a  permanent  national  style. 

One  of  the  most  noted  among  the  prominent  architects  who  are 
doing  just  such  vital  work  is  Grosvenor  Atterbury,  who,  although  he 
is  more  generally  known  through  the  excellence  of  his  formal  public 
buildings,  is  becoming  more  and  more  widely  recognized  for  the 
charm  and  originality  of  his  dwellings.  The  masterly  way  in  which 
he  handles  the  economic  problem  of  housing  large  numbers  of  people 
<hca])ly,  yet  well  and  attractively,  is  shown  in  the  famous  Phipps' 
'i\Mieii"ients  of  New  York,  accounts  of  which  have  been  so  widely 
j)ublished  that  the  general  plan  of  them  is  familiar  to  most  people  who 
take  any  interest  in  the  building  art.  But  to  us  the  most  interesting 
side  of  his  art  is  shown  in  the  phase  with  which  we  are  dealing  here, — 


Gros:  ,:i.^-i    .  l 


*A^^  :-■ 


.^>f?>' 


Grosz  cnor   .Utctbury,   .-Ircltitcct. 


"a  ClIAl'EI.  AT  SEAL  HARDOK,  MAINE:  A  PERFECT 
COMUINATION  01"  SHINGLES  AND  STONE,  GIVING 
AN    EIFKCT   OF    KINDLINESS   AND    STRENGTH." 


"THE  (.11  null  OF  All,  ANGELS  AT  SHINNECOCK 
HILLS.  A  CHAI'EL  SllTED  TO  THE  L.\NDSCAPE  OF 
DULL   COLOR    AND    BROKEN    CONTOfR." 


AN  ARCHITECT'S  THEORY   OF  ORIGINALITY 

that  of  purely  domestic  architecture  or  the  designing  of  dwelHngs, 
especially  countr}'  dwellings,  for  people  of  comparatively  moderate 
means.  The  underl}-ing  unity  that  finds  expression  in  all  the  varying 
phases  of  his  work,  in  spite  of  the  great  versatility  it  shows,  is  ascribed 
by  Mr.  Atterburj-  himself  to  his  conviction  that  no  man  can  create 
an  original  and  forceful  design  as  a  mere  work  of  art,  because  all  his 
creative  power  depends  upon  the  conditions  with  which  he  has  to  deal 
and  upon  Iris  power  of  recognizing  each  indivadual  need  and  meeting 
it  in  the  most  direct  way. 

Such  a  basis  for  working  offers  a  complete  explanation  of  the 
widely  varied  achievements  of  this  man,  for  by  recognizing  the  fact 
that  no  one  can  do  vital  work  without  the  inspiration  of  conditions 
which  must  be  met  and  mastered,  he  has  welcomed  the  limitations 
which  beset  the  architect  and  has  so  used  them  that  they  have  become 
the  secret  of  his  power.  Innumerable  things  affect  the  planning  and 
building  of  a  house.  The  climate  must  be  considered,  the  contour 
of  the  landscape  and  its  prevailing  color,  the  character  of  the  soil  upon 
which  the  house  stands  and  the  vegetation  with  which  it  is  surrounded, 
the  personal  needs  of  the  owner  and,  more  than  all,  the  amount  of 
money  that  the  latter  feels  he  can  afford  to  put  into  a  dwelling.  In 
coping  \\ith  practical  problems  like  these,  tradition  is  of  small  ac- 
count, for  the  real  work  of  the  architect  lies  in  grasping  the  significance 
of  these  conditions, — limitations  or  advantages  as  they  may  be, — 
and  arranging  them  in  their  best  and  truest  relation.  They  form, 
as  it  were,  a  certain  set  of  premises  and  when  they  are  marshaled  in 
proper  order,  the  natural  result  is  the  logical  and  necessary  conclu- 
sion. A  building  growing  thus  logically  out  of  its  own  peculiar  set 
of  premises  must  be  original  because  no  other  conditions  could  have 
produced  exactly  the  same  result. 

Architecture  so  stated  would  seem  a  simple  pursuit  for  any  man, 
but  a  good  theory  may  pave  the  way  to  much  bad  production.  Be- 
fore it  is  safe  to  let  one's  theor\'  dominate  one's  work,  it  is  necessary 
to  possess  absolute  honesty,  keen  perception  and  sound  judgment. 
At  this  point  also  the  gifts  of  intuition  and  imagination  enter  in  and 
affect  the  result.  Not  ever}'one  has  the  power  to  see  truly  and  con- 
sistently. The  conditions  that  mean  one  thing  to  one  man  may  mean 
infinitely  more  or  much  less  to  another,  or  they  may  be  interpreted 
from  quite  another  point  of  view.  In  any  case,  the  original  quality 
in  any  one  man's  work  depends  upon  his  realization  and  interpreta- 
tion of  the  conditions  with  which  he  is  confronted,  and  the  degree 
as  well  as  the  charm  of  the  original  idea  he  expresses  must  be  in  pro- 
portion to  the  degree  of  truth  in  his  apprehension  of  these  conditions. 
The  so-called  creative  artist  must  first  of  all  be  a  deep  seer,  and  after 

303 


AN  ARCHITECT'S  THEORY  OF  ORIGINALITY 

that  a  truthful  interpreter,  for  originaUty  does  not  he  in  working  away 
from  the  estabhshed  order,  but  rather  in  working  deeper  into  it. 

IT  IS  inipos.sil)le  here  to  give  more  than  a  suggestion  of  Mr.  Atter- 
bury's  achievement  in  architecture  and  even  that  must  be  a  sug- 
gestion of  only  one  phase  of  it.  The  conditions  under  wliich  a 
home  is  built,  no  matter  how  elaborate  and  complex  are  the  personal 
needs  of  the  people  who  live  in  it,  are  fundamentally  different  from 
the  conditions  imposed  by  the  impersonal  demands  of  a  corporation 
such  as  a  city,  state  or  country.  Therefore  it  is  much  less  possible 
than  it  would  be  in  most  instances  to  call  any  group  of  houses  or  build- 
ings representative  of  this  architect.  They  represent  him  as  working 
under  certain  conditions,  but  they  do  not  represent  what  he  would  be 
doing  were  any  of  the  conditions  altered. 

Among  the  buildings  we  illustrate  here  the  nearest  approach  to 
the  interpretation  of  what  we  may  call  impersonal  conditions  is  seen 
in^the  two  little  chapels,  one  built  at  Seal  Harbor  and  the  other  at 
Sliinnecock  Hills.  In  each  case  a  limited  amount  of  money  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  committee  on  finance;  the  congregation  was  small, 
intermittent  and  shifting  and  had  no  definite  characteristic,  so  the 
demand  was  for  something  simple  in  nature, — more  simple  than  the 
usual  church.  iNtr.  Atterbury  responded  w-itli  these  two  chapels,  in 
which  the  intimate  personal  atmosphere  that  ought  always  to  belong 
to  country  life  and  the  dignity  consistent  with  a  place  of  worship  are 
so  combined  as  to  produce  two  veritable  little  Houses  of  God.  This 
essential  characteristic  Ijelongs  to  both  buildings;  otherwise  they  have 
little  in  common. 

Seal  Harbor,  in  the  State  of  Maine,  is  for  the  most  part  a  summer 
settlement  built  about  one  of  the  little  island-dotted  harbors  found 
all  along  that  coast.  The  country  is  hilly,  with  a  sparse  growth 
of  pines,  the  coast  line  rugged  and  the  coloring  deep.  We  find  there- 
fore that  the  chapel  designed  for  these  surroundings  has  a  high  founda- 
tion, doorway  and  walls  l)uilt  of  the  gray  stone  found  in  this  part  of 
the  State.  The  remainder  of  the  building  is  shingled  and  perhaps  its 
most  charming  feature  is  the  perfect  combination  of  shingles  and  stone 
in  the  construction.  The  high-pitched  roof  has  a  wide  overhang  and 
the  peak  of  the  gable  is  deeply  hooded,  the  hood  rounding  out  slightly 
to  repeat  the  line  of  the  hood  over  the  arched  stone  doorway  below. 
The  effect  of  this  is  to  give  a  vivid  imjiression  of  the  {)rotecting  char- 
acter of  the  edifice,  for  both  roof  and  hoods  have  a  hovering  look  as 
if  galheriiig  the  little  building  under  widespreading  wings.  Also  the 
low  wid(>  arch  of  the  doorway  and  the  curves  of  these  hoods  suggest 
the  coutonr  of  the  low  rounded  hills  in  the  background.     The  whole 

304 


Groxr 


Architect 


"a  log  CAniN  Blll-T  ON  A  SMAI.I-  ISLAND  IN  LONO 
ISLAND  SOCND.  THE  CONSTRUCTION  OF  NATIVE 
STONE    AND    SPRICE    SI.AIIS." 


"a  view  of  the  i.ivinc;  room  in  the  loc.  cabin, 
showing    wood    constrl'l  tion    of    roof    and 

WALLS." 


.-i.A-,*;  C:-f..u, 


.*•;*  ;.i^i^7^"^^ici*  -v>  ,  ..-^;j^-*^-*^":ivi-.- 


Grt'si-ftti')    .Itn-ihiiiy,    .lnhitrrt. 


TWO  \IK\\>  111-  A  r()ITA(iK  AT  WATKU  Mil. I..  LONC, 
ISLAND.  Mil-  lliirSK  STANDS  ON  A  TERRACE  AND 
lilE  I. INKS  III-  IIIK  ROOF  Sl'CC^EST  THE  SLOPING 
.MRl-AI  K    (>!■    illK.    LANIlSI'Al'K." 


TOWARD     SUNSET     I     TAKE     MY     BOAT     AND     ROW 
ALONE  TO  THE  WATER  GATE  OF  THE  OLD  GARDEN." 


"IT  IS  i'lp:asant  to  see  that  gate,   ancient, 

IVV-liRUWiN,    standing    IN    THE    SHADOW     OF    ITS 
M  LI.l'TlKEI)    CYPRESSES." 


"on  the  very  crest  or  the  garden  is  the 
loggia  divina.  it  is  like  some  old  cloister, 
arched  and  secliued." 


"there  is  a  stone  balcstrade  circling  around 
the  fountain  of  the  lilies  in  the  center 
of  the  loogia." 


"ONE  DESCENDS  TO  THE  GATE  BY  A  I.DN'G  l-'i.IGHT 
OF  STONE  STEPS.  AND  THERE  IS  A  STONE  HENCH 
BENEATH   THE  TREES    WHERE   ONE    MAY    SIT." 


-Va«^lfr^»3iVfl^SSr-.>.-^   V-.N 


cnor   AttcrhuTy.    Archit 


"two  cottages  at  SHINNKCOCK  IIII.l.S.  THE 
RELATION  OK  THE  KOOFS  TO  THE  CONTOUR  OF  THE 
LANDSCAPE  IS  ESPECIALLY  NOTICEABLE.  THE  I'l'- 
I'ER  HOUSE  IS  OF  INTKRESTINc;  SHINCI.K  tON- 
STRUCTION    AND   THE    LOWER    OF    RED    IIUICK." 


('.rf'^:-rncr    .} I Irrl'iiry ,    An'Uilccl. 


DETAILS  OF  CEMENT  IinrsKS  AT  ISLII",  I.OM;  ISLAND.  THE  ADAP- 
TATKIN  OF  THE  HOUSES  TO  THE  LANII  IS  SO  HAKMONIOUS  THAI- 
IT     Sl'CiOESTS     IMCTllRESnUE     ANTUJl'ITV.        TMFRK     IS     A     DISTINCT 

sr(u;ESTioN    OF   the   old   si'Anmshamf.rk  \n    HiirsEs    in    the 

DK.NlTy  AND  BEAI'TV   OK   THESE   DWELLINGS." 


AN  ARCHITECT'S  THEORY  OF  ORIGINALITY 

effect  is  that  of  kindliness  and  sheltering  strength  as  well  as  of  great 
solidity  and  permanence. 

The  Sliinnecock  chapel  is  built  of  dull  red  brick  and  the  walls  are 
pierced  with  many  leaded  casements.  The  entrance  into  the  open  vesti- 
bule is  beautifully  framed  in  a  light  Gothic  arch  of  wood.  The  roof, 
which  extends  over  the  vestibule,  is  flattened  at  the  peak  so  that  its  edge 
roughly  repeats  the  line  of  the  arch  and  the  whole  front  seems  to  taper 
finally  into  the  heaAy  cross  at  the  top.  This  chapel  is  peculiarly  suited 
to  a  landscape  of  dull  color  and  light  broken  contour,  and  its  name, 
the  Church  of  All  Angels,  is  admirably  chosen  to  symbolize  the  airy 
and  delicate  dignity  that  characterizes  it. 

The  detail  of  the  country  house  of  half-timber  construction  with 
brick  is  an  excellent  example  of  ]Mr.  Atterbury's  versatiUty.  The 
house  is  definitely  English  in  type  and  in  the  way  it  settles  into  its 
surroundings.  The  rambling  roofs  show  interesting  differences  in 
height,  and  the  varying  colors  of  the  brick  contrast  well  wth  the  dark 
woodwork  and  add  an  accenting  note  to  the  well-kept  English  type 
of  country  that  forms  the  environment.  The  flight  of  steps  bending 
around  the  corner  of  the  house  and  leading  to  a  porch  on  the  second 
story  is  particularly  interesting  in  placing  and  construction,  wth  a 
balustrade  eft'ect  of  wood  set  into  the  brick.  An  arched  doorway 
into  the  first  story  breaks  the  plain  expanse  of  wall  beneath  the  porch. 
The  house  drops  gradually  in  height  from  the  main  roof  and  the  line 
is  continued  in  the  high  brick  wall  on  the  left. 

Windows  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  are  most  effectively  set  in  unex- 
pected places  and  help  to  give  the  suggestion  that  the  house  has  been 
put  together  at  different  periods  and  is  a  growth  of  time.  Take  for 
example  the  group  of  windows  at  the  meeting  of  what  seems  to  be  three 
distinct  periods  in  building.  At  the  very  center  is  the  romantic 
little  casement,  opening  outward,  that  throws  light  into  the  angle 
and  adds  immeasurably  to  the  interest;  then  the  long  narrow  windows 
that  suggest  "squints"  in  what  might  have  been  an  old  feudal  tower: 
to  the  right  is  the  simple  window  of  modern  household  use,  the  timbers 
that  frame  it  running  down  to  the  belt  course,  and  above  that  is  the  hood- 
ed dormer  in  some  chamber.  The  small  portion  of  this  house  that  is 
shown  offers  a  surprising  source  of  interest  and  study,  especially  in 
the  approj)riateness  and  variety  of  ways  in  which  the  materials  are 
handled. 

IF  WE  conclude  from  this  that  i\Ir.  Atterbury's  forte  is  Englisli 
country  architecture,  let  us  turn  to  the  accompanying  illustration 
of  the  entrance  into  a  log  cabin  built  on  a  small  island  in  Long  Island 
Sound.     The  little  parcel  of  land  is  wooded  with  a  medium  growth 

309 


AN  ARCHITECT'S  THEORY  OF  ORIGINALITY 

of  spruce,  pine  and  oak.  The  bungalow  is  built  of  spruce  slabs  on  a 
foundation  of  the  native  stone.  The  porch  entrance,  in  the  angle 
between  a  wing  and  the  main  part  of  the  house,  is  thickly  sheltered 
bv  foliage,  to  wliich  the  porch  supports  appear  Uke  accessory  tree 
trunks.  The  entrance  is  noticeable  only  because  of  the  road  that  leads 
to  it.  The  whole  cabin  is  illusive  in  outline  and  seems  to  vibrate, 
as  one  looks  at  it,  in  and  out  of  its  background;  a  quahty  that  would 
have  made  our  pioneer  ancestors  declare  unreservedly  that  a  man  so 
peculiarly  fitted  to  solve  their  architectural  problem  must  be  several 
generations  too  late  for  his  truest  usefulness. 

The  interior  of  this  cabin  is  distinguished  from  the  usual  rough 
interior  by  the  suggestion  of  the  outside  construction  found  in  the 
round  logs  that  form  the  frame  of  the  broad  doorway  between  the  two 
rooms  and  are  used  as  a  finish  in  other  places.  Everywhere  the 
rafters  and  supports  are  left  exposed.  A  thick  beam  has  been  placed 
across  the  corner,  under  which  suspended  curtains  make  a  vestibule 
about  the  door.  The  door  itself  is  of  "Dutch"  design,  and  is  made 
of  plain  boards  strapped  with  long  iron  hinges.  It  opens  with  an  old- 
fashioned  thumb  latch. 

That  ]Mr.  Atterbury  meets  existing  modern  conditions  quite  as  suc- 
cessfully as  the  imagined  requirements  of  pioneer  life  is  made  very 
clear  by  the  next  four  illustrations  of  modern  Long  Island  cottages 
of  the  simpler  sort.  The  fii'st  and  second  of  these  illustrations  show 
two  \-iews  of  a  cottage  at  Water  Mill.  The  house  stands  on  a  ter- 
race sloping  gradually  upward  from  the  water.  There  is  httle  shade  in 
the  \'icinity,  but  the  walls  are  honeycombed  wdth  porches,  which  give  the 
depth  of  shadow  necessary  both  for  the  attractive  appearance  and  for 
the  comfort  of  the  house.  The  use  of  brackets  beneath  the  projection 
of  the  roof,  and  the  slender  rustic  balcony  across  the  front  supported 
by  the  beams  of  the  house,  give  a  lightness  to  the  upper  story,  which, 
with  the  many  \vindows,  bring  into  sharper  contrast  the  deep  cool 
porches.  The  roof  is  a  dull  red  and  the  walls  are  stained  a  greenish 
brown. 

The  pillars  that  support  these  porches  are  very  attractive  in  them- 
selves. They  are  of  red  bricks  laid  flat,  each  alternating  one  set  on 
edge  with  the  head  projecting.  Every  view  of  the  house  has  some 
especial  interest;  the  disposal  or  the  beauty  of  a  mndow,  the  use  of 
a  lattice,  or  the  placing  of  a  flower  box.  No  matter  from  what  point 
of  view  the  building  is  seen,  it  is  always  attractive  and  interesting  and 
always  consistent  with  itself  and  with  its  purpose. 

In  all  these  houses  where  the  natural  shade  is  small  and  the  country 
level  and  dull  in  color,  we  notice  long  sweeping  roofs  wTth  dormer 
windows  lighting  the  upper  rooms.     These  are  particularly  desirable, 

310 


AN  ARCHITECT'S  THEORY  OF  ORIGINALITY 

because  they  serve  to  relieve  the  line  of  the  roor,  without  interl'ering 
with  its  assimilation  by  the  backgound.  The  ett'ect  of  the  graceful 
dormers  and  long,  low  roof  is  most  clearly  exhibited  in  the  second 
cottage  standing  at  Shinnecock.  Here,  the  relation  of  the  slow  sweep 
of  roof  and  the  lazy  undulation  of  the  pale  grass  could  hardly  escape 
the  attention  even  of  the  unobservant.  Here  ajjain  we  have  a  daring 
variety  of  windows.  The  lower  story  of  this  cotta<fe  is  of  red  brick, 
a  satisfying  touch  of  color  that  is  always  welcome  in  a  marine  land- 
scape. 

WE  HAVE  still  another  distinct  and  equally  delightful  expres- 
sion of  Mr.  Atterbury's  inexhaustible  originahty,  in  the  group 
of  details  from  cement  houses.  Three  of  these  are  taken  from  a 
little  colony  of  cement  buildings  at  Islip,  Long  Island.  They  stand  on  a 
flat,  sandy,  light-saturated  area,  or  rather,  rise  from  it,  and  in  each 
case  are  almost  surrounded  by  canals  and  inlets  from  the  Sound. 
The  background  is  breeze-ruffled  blue  water,  wdiitish  sand  and  the 
sparse  gray-green  vegetation  characteristic  of  such  soil.  The  houses 
and  land  seem  to  have  been  evolved  simultaneously.  The  situation  is, 
in  a  way,  similar  to  the  old  Spanish-iVmerican  houses  built  on  the 
sun-soaked  plains  of  the  Southwest,  for  from  beneath  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  arches  one  looks  out  everywhere  upon  a  dazzling  landscape. 

These  details  are  shown  chiefly  because  of  the  striking  and  mas- 
sive eff'ect  that  is  obtained  with  the  cement  (the  efl'ect  of  stone  rather 
than  of  stucco),  because  of  the  variety  shown  in  the  treatment  of  similar 
houses  similarly  placed  and  because  of  the  entirety  of  each  portion. 
Ever}'  detail  is  beautiful  and  complete  in  itself  and  yet  necessarj'  to  the 
whole.  One  can  build  a  fairly  definite  scheme  of  the  houses  because 
of  the  inevitableness  of  the  parts  that  are  shown. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  picture  framed  by  the  archways  and  the 
rows  of  columns  in  the  photograph  of  the  gate  leading  toward  the 
water.  The  severe  angles  of  the  porch  and  straight  lines  of  the  archi- 
trave are  relieved  by  the  curved  supports  of  the  roofs  over  them,  and 
what  interest  the  curviufj  wall  that  fitly  ends  the  colonnade  adds  to  the 
walls  and  arches  beyond!  A  (general  idea  of  the  use  of  pillars  in  these 
houses  is  given  in  the  detail  that  sugfi;ests  more  definitely  the  Spanish 
architecture.  Here  we  have  the  walled  roof  pierced  for  defence  and 
the  deep-set  windows  liifrli  in  the  walls.  The  group  of  archways 
imder  the  raised  veranda  is  very  beautiful,  leading  as  it  does  from  the 
lower  stor}'  out  upon  the  lawns  and  through  a  colonnade  to  the  water 
and  the  boathouse. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  these  houses  is  the  one  with  the 
tower.      The  simple  efl'ect  shows  on  analysis  the  application  of  an 

3" 


A  PRAYER 

overwhelming  amount  ot"  detailed  attention.  The  stairway  leading 
over  the  arched  entrance  to  the  porch  on  the  second  story  leads  also 
to  a  shallow  veranda  similar  to  the  one  seen  in  the  foreground;  the 
windows  of  the  tower  are  exquisitely  disposed;  the  construction 
of  the  flower  box  in  which  the  proportions  of  wood  and  cement  are  re- 
versed; all  these  are  but  the  more  obvious  factors  in  a  lasting  fascina- 
tion. Each  little  bracket  adds  its  definite  contribution  to  the  whole 
and  casts  its  little  shadow  to  the  best  effect.  In  the  last  picture  of  the 
group,  taken  from  a  house  built  under  quite  different  circumstances 
at  Cold  Spring  Harbor,  even  the  waterspouts  that  drain  the  shallow 
balcony  are  made  a  source  of  interest  and  decoration.  The  effect 
of  this  house  is  much  lighter  and  much  more  conventional  and  it  is 
set  in  a  conventional  surrounding  of  wooded  American  country. 

These  few  fragments  of  Mr.  Atterbury's  design  are,  as  we  have 
said,  of  necessity  inadequate  as  a  representation  of  liis  work;  V)ut  they 
are  not  intended  to  represent  his  work.  They  simply  illustrate  the 
theory  that  lies  at  the  base  of  some  domestic  arcliitecture  as  thor- 
oughly developed,  interesting  and  beautiful  as  any  this  country  can 
at  present  boast. 

A  PRAYER 

"  y'~XlI,  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us 
I      i  To  see  oursel's  as  others  see  us." 
^""'^    Lots  o'  trouble  might  be  spared  us, 

]\Iony  pangs  o'  heart  be  saved  us; 

E'en  we  might  be  mair  indulgent 

Mair  forgivin\  mair  content. 

Not  sae  prone  to  envy  others,  . 

Pleased  wi'  a'  that  God  has  sent. 

INIaist  of  us  are  sorry  creatures, 

Awfu'  weak  and  apt  to  fa*; 

Maist  of  us  will  look  for  [Mercy 

When  we  reach  the  Judgment  Ila'. 

Yet  at  lieart  we're  larely  loyal 

To  each  other  i'  our  thoughts. 

Just  what's  wrang  wi'  others  strikes  us, 

But  we're  blind  to  our  ain  faults. 

Why  not  then  stop  a'  prctendin'. 

Look  oursel's  straight  i'  the  face, 

Keep  on  prayin'.  "Lord,  forgie  us. 

For  we  need  Thy  savin'  grace  .^" 

J.  C.   II.  Bi:aumont„ 

312 


THE  BUSY  MAN:  BY  MARJORIE  SUTHERLAND 

"The  things  which  thou  hast  prepared,  whose  shall  they  be?" 


■^   Hii' 


HE  nurse  drew  the  white  woollen  coverings  deftly 
about  the  patient's  shoulders,  then  she  turned  out  the 
light  and  started  for  the  door.  "Wait,"  said  the  voice 
from  the  bed.  "Why.^"  asked  the  nurse.  "1  want 
to  tell  you  something."  "  What  ?  Are  you  not  so  com- 
fortable.^" "Yes.  I  feel  almost  well — (juite  well." 
"Oh."  "You  are  surprised.?  Yes,  I  know.  You 
need  not  try  to  hide  it.  1  can  speak  only  for  a  little  time.  I  know 
that.  Will  you  wait.-"  "There  is  the  baby  upstairs.  I  must  go 
there."  "Yes,  I  know;  it  was  of  the  baby  1  wshed  to  speak." 
"Oh,"  said  the  nurse,  retreating  to  the  open  window  and  standing 
there  in  the  darkness. 

Again  the  voice  sounded  from  the  bed:  "I  want  you  to  tell  the 
baby  upstairs  and  those  who  are  to  take  care  of  him,  that  an  old  man 
is  dying  in  the  room  below.  An  old  man — a  lover  and  a  father,  but 
that  he  is  loveless  now,  and  childless.  I  am  in  my  right  mind.  Mv 
brain  is  clear  now.  I  am  perfectly  calm,  perfectly  sane.  I  am  not 
telling  you  a  story  for  books — oh,  never  that — but  I  have  lived  here  a 
wliile  and  I  know.  Tell  this  to  those  who  belong  to  the  helpless, 
inarticulate,  unknowing  creature  upstairs.  Tell  them  that  some- 
body always  pays;  that  no  man  ever  loved,  or  hated,  or  struggled,  or 
won — or  lost — ^Wth  higher  tension  than  the  man  who  is  speaking 
now.  I  do  not  ask  them  to  believe  in  any  god,  any  mortal  pei'son,  any 
man-made  power;  I  do  not  ask  them  to  be  ovei'-cautious.  to  be  afraid, 
to  be  superstitiously  prudent  or  free — only  tell  them  that  somebody 
always  pays.  I  know  tliis  to  be  true,  because  I  have  jiaid." 
"Wliat  do  you  mean.''"  asked  the  nurse. 

"Listen;  I  have  lain  in  this  bed  for  five  weeks.  1  have  used  my 
head  much  during  that  time,  day  and  night, — hot,  restless  days  and 
nights  filled  with  agony  and  remorse.  1  shall  never  get  up  again — 
you  know  that — but  if  I  could  get  up  again  I  would  be  a  companion 
to  men. 

"I  would  make  me  a  garden,  the  garden  which  I  failed  to  make 
twenty-five  years  ago.  The  garden  would  be  after  the  English  style. 
There  would  be  a  lily  pond  in  the  center,  and  a  border  of  mulberry 
trees  along  the  paths,  with  birches  back  of  the  sun-dial  and  bass- 
woods  next  the  road.  There  woidd  Ije  a  honeysuckle  trellis  by  the 
summer  house  and  a  bank  of  violets,  and  then  tulips,  sweet  peas,  roses 
and  asters.  I  know  just  where  each  of  them  would  be  placed,  but 
I  will  not  go  into  great  detail  now — it — it  is  too  late. 

"Beyond  the  garden  you  would  find  my  house.  Perhaps  1  should 
have  mentioned  the  house  first.     But  then,  it  makes  little  difterence — 

313 


THE   BUSY  MAN 

the  house  would  be  Ihere,  a  neat,  roomy  shelter,  with  Freneh  doors 
with  brass  knobs,  and  inside  would  be  books  and  pictures  whose  every 
line  bespoke  my  care  and  foresight.  There  would  be  a  brass  fire- 
place too,  and  all  of  the  necessary  things  which  go  to  make  a  house. 

"Somebody  else  would  look  after  the  house — my  wife.  I  had 
a  wife  one  time  and  three  beautiful  children.  I  said  a  moment  ago 
that  I  was  childless,  and  so  I  am.  I  was  so  ver}*  busy  when  my  chd- 
dren  w^ere  growing  up  that  I  had  scant  time  to  notice  them — and  I — 
I'm  making  up  that  time  now. 

"If  I  were  back  in  that  dwelling  at  this  moment  I  would  take  my 
son  by  the  hand,  lead  liim  into  the  library,  mine  and  his,  and  we  two 
comrades  would  sit  down  in  the  presence  of  Shakespeare,  Carlyle 
and  Victor  Hugo.  We  would  talk  together  like  friends  about  the 
activities  of  men  and  about  the  beauties  of  the  world.  \Mien  we  had 
sat  in  the  book  room  long  enough  we  would  turn  one  of  the  brass 
knobs  of  the  French  doors  and  go  tramping  or  riding  out  beyond 
the  garden  and  over  the  hills,  noticing  carefidly  as  we  went  the  voices, 
webs,  tracks  and  homes  of  all  the  creatures  which  lived  along  our 
path.  I  can  almost  see  those  two  going  over  the  hill.  How  strange 
that  events  which  never  happened  should  seem  so  familiar! 

"Again,  I  would  take  my  daughter's  hand.  We  would  go  into 
the  garden  and  take  our  place  by  the  dial  to  watch  the  sun  set.  Others 
would  be  near  the  dial,  too^Antigone,  Queen  Louise,  Lorna  Doone, 
the  Lady  of  Shalott.  But  we  should  be  the  happiest  of  them  all, 
because  we  were  alive  and  in  love  with  life.  Think  of  youth  without 
a  garden — without  a  sun-dial  or  a  honeysuckle  vine,  or  a  space  to 
watch  the  moon  rise  and  the  sun  set^think  of  being  too  busy  for  that! 

"On  a  bit  of  paper  I  have  said  that  I  consign  to  my  children  the 
banks  and  bonds  which  I  have  so  busily  accumulated.  But  I  have 
left  them  no  memories,  no  rare  books  with  marked  passages,  no 
heritage  of  IVIay  mornings,  of  comradeship,  of  November  nights  about 
the  library  fireplace,  no  April  rambles  through  damp  woods.  My 
voice,  the  turn  of  my  head,  the  gleam  of  my  eyes  will  accompany 
them  through  life,  but  they  do  not  know  it.  They  do  not  care  be- 
cause they  never  knew  me.  I  will  keep  them  in  opulence,  a  soft, 
cowardly  opulence,  all  their  days,  which  they  will  accept  with  eager 
greed  that  I  never  took  time  to  avert.  Do  not  tliink  that  I  am 
pitting  myself.  I  am  only  pitying  them — strangers! — bearing  my 
name — whom  I  pity  from  the  roots  of  my  life,  because  their  father 
was  such  a  busy  man. 

"  I  might  have  sat  with  my  son  within  the  shadow  of  the  Parthenon, 
or  among  the  sapphire  hills  of  the  Tjnrol;  I  inight  have  told  him 
stories  of  past  men,  of  past  nations,  of  ancient  skill  and  vigor  and 

314 


t) 


LOVE'S  INFINITY 

love,  but  I  did  not — I  was  too  busy.  I  did  not  even  tell  him  that  a 
lark  builds  its  nest  in  the  growang  corn,  while  an  oriole  s\\ings  hers 
from  the  branch  of  an  elm;  a  poor  man  could  tell  his  son  so  much — 
a  policeman  or  a  cobbler, — and  it  would  take  only  a  little  time. 

"I  never  told  my  son  that  being  something  was  worth  more  than 
having  something.  I  never  told  him  that  a  skilled  craftsman  was 
the  noblest  work  of  God.  I  never  told  him  that  I  thought  there  was 
a  God,  or  anything  divine  in  beauty  or  harmony  or  labor  or  love. 

"You,  woman,  I  tell  you  this  because  you  are  the  keeper  of  that 
little  thing  upstairs.  Tell  him  that  someone  always  pays,  but  the 
one  who  pays  the  greatest  price  is  the  one  who  is  too  busy." 


LOVE'S  INFINITY 

THOUGH  I  have  given  all  my  love  to  thee. 
Abundance  measureless  remains  behind. 
Freely  I  give,  for  thou  shalt  never  find 
A  barrier  to  my  soul's  infinity 
Of  tenderness  or  passion.     Canst  thou  see 
The  confines  of  immensity  that  bind 
The  star-mote's  journey  and  the  tireless  wind  ? 
They  are  no  farther  than  the  marge  of  me. 

Boundless  I  am  as  the  star-dancing  deep 

Reflected  in  this  bubble  that  is  L 
Gaze  till  thine  eyes  are  weary,  and  then  sleep 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  mirrored  sky. 
Love  has  no  limit  that  I  need  to  keep, 

Love  has  no  terror  that  I  need  to  fly. 

Elsa  Barker. 


315 


HISTORY  IN  ARCHITECTURE:  REMODELING 
AN  OLD  STONE  HOUSE,  AND  THE  HISTOR- 
ICAL QUALITY  ACHIEVED:  BY  CHARLES 
MATLACK  PRICE 

iT  is  a  sti'ange  inconsistency  in  outlook  which  impels 
Americans  to  travel  the  world  over  to  find  and  admire 
historical  conditions  and  return  to  their  own  land  to 
destroy  every  possibility  of  a  genuine  development 
of  liistory  in  architecture.  Our  imaginations  do  not 
seem  to  work  without  the  intervening  sea  voyage. 
In  England  we  seem  capable  of  understanding  the 
real  value  of  progressive  beauty  in  architecture;  in  America  we  are 
iconoclasts,  and  progress  only  through  destruction. 

Is  it  that  we  build  so  badly  and  can  only  restore  our  self- 
respect  by  obliterating  our  homes  from  generation  to  generation  ? 
Or  does  our  architecture  mean  so  little  to  us  because  it  is  artificial, 
unrelated  to  our  lives,  a  superficial,  impermanent  expression  of  some 
whim  or  fashion  ?  This  latter  may  be  largely  true,  and  yet  there  have 
been  built  in  America  houses  that  are  fundamentally  good,  the  simple 
stone  farnihouses  of  a  century  ago,  the  old  Colonial  brick  dwellings, 
— to  these  could  have  been  added  without  destroying  the  proof  of  a 
fresh  interest  in  life,  a  fresh  culture,  a  more  varied  taste,  when  a 
larger  area  of  home  space  was  needed.  But  this  has  rarely  been 
done.  We  have  torn  down  what  of  beauty  we  have  had  architec- 
turally and  we  have  seldom  replaced  it  with  as  much  beauty. 

It  is  because  English  architecture  is  so  inevitably  sincere  at  the 
start  as  well  as  in  every  change  and  addition  that  we  find  it  such  an 
artistic  satisfaction,  and  remark  unthinkingly  that  "nowhere  but  in 
England  are  such  houses  possible,"  adding,  regretfully  and  without 
any  sense  of  responsibility,  that  "American  architecture  is  crude, 
banal,  blatantly  modern."  When  pressed  to  analyze  the  character- 
istic charm  of  English  dwellings  wliich  have  called  forth  such  despair- 
ing commendation  from  us,  we  usually  say  that  it  lies  in  the  inimitable 
charm  which  a  varied  historv  has  wrouoht  in  the  building. — as 
though  historv  could  be  the  exclusive  possession  of  England,  quite 
forgetting  that  England  was  once  young. 

Yet,  admitting  for  the  sake  of  argument  that  American  architec- 
ture is  crude,  blatantly  modern,  let  us  ask  ourselves  if  it  does  not  lie  in 
the  power  of  American  architects  to  change  this  and  to  begin  the 
building  of  an  architecture  that  shall  develop  in  time  the  inimitable 
charm  of  historv,  that  quality  which  makes  for  such  lasting  beauty  in 
English  dwellings. 

The  means  are  in  the  hands  of  our  architects,  and  simple  to  a 

316 


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Remodeled  hy  Price  &  Ktnti 


ORIGINAL    C0TTA(;E     OF    OKAY     FIF.I.r) 
TIRF.SQIEI.Y    I'l.AlT.I)   ON     HII.I.SIDK, 


■iToNE.     PIC- 


VIEW  OF  COTTAI.E  AFTER  FIRST  ENI.AROEMENT, 
WITH  WING  ON  THE  DOWN-HII.L  SIDE  AND  HANG- 
ING   TORCH. 


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HISTORY   IN  ARCHITECTURE 

degree, — frankness  of  expression,  so  widely  taught  and  so  seldom 
followed,  is  the  keynote,  a  more  genuine  understanding  of  the  ways 
of  American  hfe  and  a  greater  appi-eciation  of  the  fact  that  these  ways 
are  worth  expressing  follows.  Formerly  when  successive  genera- 
tions modified  their  homes,  as  conditions,  social,  political  and  other- 
wise, changed  about  them,  these  modifications  were  closely  related 
to  the  hfe  itself,  and  there  existed  none  of  that  false  pride,  or  what- 
ever inane  impulse  it  is  that  impels  a  man  today  to  interpret  the  idea 
of  changing  a  house  into  totally  obliterating  it,  and  producing,  instead 
of  the  modified  old,  sometliing  unique  and  unrelated  to  all  conditions. 
We  still  held  somewhat  of  the  old  English  feeling  that  all  change 
must  come  through  necessity  and  must  express  all  possible  harmoni- 
ous beauty,  and  that  destruction  was  not  one  way  of  achieving  it. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  worth  our  while  to  find  out  what  really  can  be 
done  in  America  in  the  way  of  the  development  of  a  house  from  a 
very  simple  structure  into  something  both  beautiful  and  useful  with- 
out the  destruction  of  a  single  phase  of  its  first  growth. 

OF  course,  in  tliis  house  which  we  have  in  mind,  the  changes 
were  accomplished  in  a  few  years,  not  in  centuries,  as  was 
the  case  \\ith  the  wonderful  old  Tan^ley  Manor  in  England, 
which  dated  back  to  the  time  of  fortified  houses.  Tangley  Manor 
weis  a  strongly  built,  more  or  less  castellated  affair,  pierced  for  archer}', 
with  high  windows  and  surrounded  by  a  moat, — a  small  fortress  in 
itself.  The  days  of  internal  strife  vanislung  before  a  changed  civiUza- 
tion,  the  old  moated  house  became  the  nucleus  of  a  more  domestic 
dwelling  place.  Wings  were  thrown  out,  an  entire  new  front  was 
added  in  Elizabeth's  time,  with  half-timbered  gables  and  exquisitely 
disposed  leaded  hghts.  The  modern  house  owner  would  have  filled 
in  the  moat  as  a  useless  adjunct  to  his  property  and  have  done  all  in 
his  power  to  alter,  if  not  to  tear  down,  the  old  keep.  In  the  case  of 
Tangley,  the  moat  was  kept  and  is  today  a  charming  water  garden 
at  the  foot  of  the  lawn,  ^ith  bridges  and  artistic  garden  treatment, 
and,  above  all,  that  priceless  atmosphere  of  history.  The  old  moat 
means  as  much  to  the  family  as  "the  cradle  of  liberty"  does  to  the 
Bostonian.  Both  have  outlived  their  original  uses,  but  both  today 
have  a  value  even  greater  than  their  original  worth.  A  century's 
growth  of  moss  has  no  particular  market  value  as  such.  If  it  is 
grovsing  on  a  sun-dial  in  a  garden,  mere  money  cannot  buy  a  frag- 
ment of  it.     It  has  grown  into  the  liistory  of  the  place. 

What  gives  the  charm  to  an  Enghsh  house  if  not  these  echoes  of  all 
the  people  and  the  happenings  that  have  gone  before  ?  It  is  the  fact 
of  adding  to  all  that  has  been,  the  new  beauty  or  interest,  back  even  to 

319 


HISTORY  IN   ARCHITECTURE 

the  Norman  times;  perhaps,  some  Jacobean  descendant  added  one  of 
the  graceful  oriel  windows  that  he  liked  in  his  neighbor's  new  house, 
and  his  Georgian  successor,  nothing  daunted,  put  on  a  porch  because 
he  personally  hked  to  sit  out  after  dinner,  and  even  Christopher  Wren 
may  have  designed  a  tower  or  a  terrace  when  his  day  came.  Such  a 
house  has  a  history  and  a  compelling  charm  which  is  realized  in  its 
fullest  and  which  causes  pangs  to  the  American  who  feels  the  absence  of 
such  beauty  in  modern  America. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  this  paper  to  suggest,  by  means  of  a  tangible 
example  carefully  studied,  not  only  the  possibility  but,  in  some  sorts 
of  American  architecture,  the  expediency  of  following  this  idea  of 
expressing  history  in  building. 

As  no  house  could  possibly  be  much  over  three  hundred  years  old 
even  in  the  earliest  discovered  portions  of  America,  we  must  make  up 
by  design  and  material  for  that  atmosphere  which  age  brings  with  it 
to  a  house.  The  easiest  way  of  getting  this  efl'ect  is  Ijy  utilizing  the 
local  material  that  does  have  real  age  and  which,  being  local,  will 
emphasize  that  quality  in  itself  when  used  in  the  house. 

THE  southeastern  portion  of  Rhode  Island,  figuiing  on  the 
Coast  Survey  maps  as  "The  Hills,"  comprises  a  large  tract 
of  exceedingly  stony  and  arid  soil,  eminently  unsuitable  for 
farming  purposes.  The  basis  of  the  landscape  is  innumerable  small 
hills  with  very  little  level  ground,  covered  with  great  quantities  of 
field  stone,  weathered  gray  from  exposure  and  used  unsparingly  in 
the  walls  of  every  field  and  pasture. 

This  part  of  Rhode  Island  is  a  region  of  abandoned  farms.  In 
many  instances  the  houses  have  entirely  disappeared;  those  better 
built  stand  untenanted  and  deserted.  One  of  these,  a  small  cottage 
well  built  of  gray  field  stone,  overshadowed  by  a  great  weeping  willow, 
and  picturesquely  placed  on  a  terrace  hillside,  attracted  the  eye  of  a 
Philadelphia  gentleman  of  as  much  discrimination  as  taste,  and  he 
bought  it.  The  place,  although  small,  possessed  a  certain  over- 
whelming advantage  beyond  the  most  magnificent  recent  palace  at 
Newport;  it  had  a  history.  Besides  being  of  considerable  antiquity 
in[^the  annals  of  the  countryside,  it  had  housed  many  a  pioneer  in  the 
days  gone  by  and  many  stories  were  still  told  of  its  eccentric  owners. 

Its  orchard  was  old;  the  long,  fan-shaped  parterre  leading  up  to 
the  door  was  of  old,  well-grown  turf.  The  terraces  were  of  stone,  well 
weathered,  with  lichens  and  vines  growing  from  their  gray  walls. 
The  great  flat  stones  leading  iiTcgularly  up  to  the  threshold  were  old, 
and  none  could  disj)ute  their  ancient  appearance.  No  raw,  new 
work  could  inlnide.     By  way  of  making  this  cottage  livable,  the  new 

320 


HISTORY   IN   ARCHITECTURE 

owner  added  certain  quaint  dormer  windows  and  threw  a  balcony 
out  from  the  dining  room.  The  woodwork  inside  he  painted  a  dull 
green,  and  built  a  quaint  and  beautiful  fireplace  in  the  living  room. 
Thus  he  addetl  the  iirst  page  of  his  own  time  and  taste  to  the  his- 
tory of  his  house. 

Its  owner  no  longer  a  bachelor,  a  time  came  when  the  house 
needed  enlargement,  wliicli  was  undertaken  and  effected  in  a  most 
consistent  way.  A  wing  was  thrown  out,  on  the  down-hill  side,  sup- 
ported on  two  great  stone  arches,  under  which  an  ice-house  was  tun- 
neled into  the  hillside,  and  the  enclosure  formed  in  front  of  this  was  a 
quaint,  cobbled  kitchen  court  on  the  lower  terrace  level.  A  flight  of 
stone  steps  led  one  up  to  a  small  tiled  court,  connecting  the  wing  with 
the  old  house.  Here  again  a  paragraph  of  history  appeared  in  the 
court,  for  a  pilgrimage  through  Spain  had  been  immortalized  by  the 
setting  of  a  few  ancient  Spanish  tiles  among  the  rest. 

The  house  as  it  stands  today  expresses  all  it  has  been  and  is;  it  is 
eminently  appropriate  to  the  countryside,  and  belongs  to  the  hills  it  is 
built  on.  Now,  conditions  demand  further  expansion,  but  the  hill- 
side forbids  this  in  certain  directions.  On  the  side  of  the  lower  ter- 
race it  falls  away  too  steeply  and  immediately  behind  the  house  it 
rises  with  equal  abruptness,  but  it  seems  possil)le  to  extend  up  and 
away  from  the  present  house  in  the  manner  indicated  in  the  illustra- 
tion. This  involves  a  fascinating  difference  of  grade  frowned  at  by 
some  but  acclaimed  by  others;  certainly  a  departure  from  the  conven- 
tional, it  is  yet  unquestionably  a  logical  development  and  expression 
of  conditions. 

FROM  the  parterre  approach  the  appearance  of  the  house  will  be 
that  of  a  large  rambling  manor  of  considerable  antiquity,  as 
the  actual  ajre  of  the  orimnal  house  has  so  far  sanctified  all 
subsequent  additions.  Immediately  above  the  present  door  and 
leading  off  at  right  angles  from  the  present  house  will  run  a  low- 
walled  terrace,  overshadowed  by  an  ancient  apj^le  tree  and  l)uilt  of 
weathered  stone  cut  from  the  hills  behind  the  house.  This  terrace 
will  form  the  base  of  a  long  low  wing  (see  plan)  treated  with  a  line  of 
leaded  casements  and  a  Dutch  door. 

To  effect  the  transition  in  levels,  the  next  addition,  a  studio,  will 
be  built  with  a  gambrel  roof  so  designed  that  the  ridge  and  eaves  of 
the  first  wing  will  join  its  shoulder  and  eaves,  while  the  third  and 
highest  wing  joins  the  studio  ridge  to  ridge,  eaves  to  shoulder  and 
base  to  eaves.  The  entire  upper  wing  comprising  the  three  members 
is  to  be  thrown  out  at  an  angle  to  the  main  extension.  The  loggia  at 
the    end    will   take  due  advantage    of  the  height  reached  and  com- 

321 


HISTORY   IN   ARCHITECTURE 

maud  a  view  of   the  distant  sea  over  the   low-lying  land  between. 

Inside,  a  few  steps,  to  the  right  of  the  fireplace  in  the  present  living 
room,  v\-ill  lead  to  a  small  landing  with  a  window  seat.  Tliis  landing 
gives  access  to  a  long  corridor  from  wliich  open  two  bedrooms;  the 
corridor  is  lit  by  the  line  of  casements  and  entered  from  the  outside 
by  the  Dutch  door.  Next  comes  the  studio,  fitted  with  a  great  fire- 
place; the  roof  is  left  unceiled  with  exposed  rafters.  A  dais-like  land- 
ing at  the  head  of  three  steps  leads  to  the  farthest  wing.  This  landing 
provides  for  all  propensities  in  the  amateur  theatrical  line,  \\-ith  the 
studio  as  an  auditorium  and  a  conveniently  placed  greenroom  and 
exit  into  the  wing  beyond,  another  corridor,  with  two  more  rooms  and 
a  bath  which  give  upon  the  loggia.  This  loggia  is  a  broad  platform 
open  to  the  air  on  three  sides  with  great  stone  posts  supporting  the 
low-pitched  roof. 

Nor  are  such  developments  as  these  by  any  means  the  final  word. 
The  little  house  on  the  hill  can  be  added  to,  expanded  and  enlarged, 
always  keeping  what  has  gone  before  and  frankly  expressing  the 
meaning  of  each  addition  from  generation  to  generation,  until  it 
becomes  a  second  Compton  Wynyates — a  house  with  a  history. 


iMO\»-nS  THRU  UtVElJ 


PLAM     JHOWIMG    ALTER.ATION5   <?.  ADDITIOMJ  lb  A  COUNTRX • 

•HOU5E   AT-  MAUNUCK     R.-I-  •  •  •  ^^"^  '^  *^'^«  AECH.rtcTJ-  .. 


322 


THE  FRIENDLY  COURT,  DEVISED  TO  HELP 
RATHER  THAN  PUNISH  THE  CHILD  DELIN 
QUENT:  BY  MARY  E.  WATTS 

fcN  ANY  working  day  of  the  week  there  may  be  seen 
pouring  in  and  out  of  a  small,  low  building  at  the 
northwest  corner  of  Eleventh  Street  and  Third  Avenue 
a  stream  of  children,  some  of  them  well  fed  and  well 
clad,  but  for  the  most  part  anxious  and  pale  looking, 
and  wearing  the  unmistakable  garments  of  the  street 
Arab,  the  ragged  clothes  much  too  large,  evidently 
intended  for  adult  wearers  and — telling  the  story  even  more  plainly — 
the  pathetic  shoes  burst  open  at  the  sides  and  turning  up  grotesquely 
at  the  ends,  ^^^len  they  go  in  on  the  Third  Avenue  side,  these  cliil- 
dren  are  usually  in  the  charge  of  policemen  or  the  agents  of  the  Chil- 
dren's Society;  when  they  come  out  on  the  Eleventh  Street  side,  if 
they  are  so  fortunate  as  to  do  so,  they  are  often  accompanied  by  their 
parents,  in  most  instances  the  bewildered  or  irresponsible  fathers  and 
mothers  of  the  tenements.  These  children  are  the  defendants  in 
the  actions  of  the  Children's  Court,  which  sits  in  this  low  and  uncom- 
fortable building  and  gathers  into  its  paternal  ai-ms  the  city's  waifs 
and  strays  of  childhood,  which  defends  them  against  neglect,  admon- 
ishes them,  punishes  them,  sets  them  upon  the  straight  path  toward 
honest  and  useful  manhood  and  womanhood  and  appoints  guardians 
to  help  them  on  the  way. 

The  courtroom  is  invariably  crowded  with  the  relatives  and 
friends  of  the  children  who  are  on  trial,  and  the  representatives  of  the 
various  philanthropies  which  aid  the  Court  in  guarding  the  children 
while  on  parole  or  in  disposing  of  them  when  they  have  received 
sentences  to  institutions.  Children  of  all  ages  up  to  sixteen  years 
come  before  the  Court.  Sometimes  the  defendant  is  so  large  that 
the  spectator  trembles  for  the  safety  of  the  parent  advased  by  the 
judge  to  administer  personal  chastisement  to  liis  offspring.  Im- 
mediately following  such  a  case  the  judge  may  be  obliged  to  lean  far 
over  his  desk  to  see  a  tiny,  curly-haired  defendant  who  is  sobbing 
in  beA\aIdered  fashion  and  clinging  pitifully  to  the  hand  of  a  Court 
attendant.  In  such  cases  the  Court  candy  box,  which  reposes  in  the 
desk  of  Chief  Clerk  Ernest  K.  Coulter,  is  called  into  requisition,  and 
has  usually  been  found  a  most  efficacious  means  of  restoring  con- 
fidence. In  cases  where  even  the  blandishments  of  the  judge  have 
been  powerless  to  reassure  a  frightened  child,  the  introduction  of  such 
an  old,  familiar  friend  as  a  chocolate  cream  or  a  gumdrof)  has  seldom 
failed  to  establish  cordial  relations  between  the  Court  and  the  prisoner 
at  the  bar. 

32.3 


THE   FRIENDLY   COURT 

There  are  three  classes  of  cases  in  the  Children's  Court.  The 
liir<j;est  includes  children  who  have  violated  city  ordinances  which 
n^slrict  their  j>lay;  the  second  class  includes  children  who  are  not 
properly  cared  for  at  home,  and  the  third  class  in  point  of  size  in- 
cludes children  who  have  shown  actual  criminal  tendencies.  ^Vhen 
from  this  last  class  are  taken  those  children  whose  criminal  conduct 
can  be  directly  traced  to  obvious  parental  neglect,  the  remainder  is 
so  small  in  comparison  with  the  number  of  children  brought  into 
Court  that  it  is  both  encouraging  and  distressing,  encouraging  because 
it  seems  to  show  how  few  children  are  naturally  inclined  toward  an 
evil  course  in  life,  and  distressing  because  so  many  are  permitted  to 
drift  that  way.  If  blind  Justice  were  not  shackled  by  precedent  and 
])roperty  rights  she  might  well  arise  after  a  morning  in  the  Cliildren's 
Court  and  cry.  "Educate  the  parents  and  give  the  children  a  place 
to  Jilay,  even  if  the  most  valuable  property  in  the  city  must  be  razed 
to  the  ground!"  It  is  the  community  which  is  on  trial  and  not  the 
children.  On  the  second  count,  that  of  failing  to  provide  playgrounds, 
the  case  is  so  strong  against  the  city  of  New  York  that  it  seems  in- 
credible to  one  who  listens  to  the  proceedings  of  the  Children's  Court 
that  a  city  noted  for  its  philanthropy  should  be  willing  to  be  found 
guilty  of  such  neglect  and  for  so  long. 

OVT  of  two  thousand  six  hundred  and  fifty-five  cases  tried  in  the 
Court  in  nineteen  hundred  and  seven,  eight  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  were  those  in  which  the  defendants  were  charged  with 
violation  of  some  ordinance  which  curtailed  their  play.  Throwing 
baseballs,  kicking  footballs,  taking  part  in  stone  fights,  playing  cat 
and  building  l)onfires  are  among  the  principal  crimes  which  bring 
bovs  to  the  Children's  Court.  It  is  impossible  that  these  sports 
should  be  enjoyed  in  the  city  streets.  Stone  fights,  in  which  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  boys  take  part,  are  almost  as  dangerous  as  the 
automobile  traffic,  and  when  rival  gangs  are  debating  the  superiority 
of  the  Waverlys  and  the  Third  Avenues  or  some  similarly  well- 
matched  competitors,  they  are  almost  as  reckless  of  human  life  and 
limb  as  is  the  average  chauffeur.  These  stone  fights  are  the  most 
dangerous  of  the  street  games,  for  the  playing  of  which  the  children 
are  placed  under  arrest.  All  the  other  sports  mentioned,  however, 
if  permitted  in  the  city  streets,  would  increase  so  as  to  become  very 
dangerous  to  pedestrians. 

The  Court,  of  course,  is  forced  to  recognize  tliis  side  of  the  matter, 
and  yet  every  justice  who  sits  in  the  Children's  Court  has  a  secret 
sympathy  with  the  lads  brought  up  on  this  sort  of  charge,  recognizing 
tiie  fact  that  it  is  usually  a  case  of  ordinary  boys  and  no  place  to  play. 

324 


THE   FRIENDLY   COURT 

The  boys  are  rigorously  judged,  recommended  for  home  chastise- 
ment or  fined  for  stone  throwing,  and  they  never  know  that  often  and 
often  as  the  reprimanded  defendant  leaves  the  courtroom  the  judge 
murmurs,  "Well,  what's  the  boy  to  do,  I'd  like  to  know?"  Nobody 
knows,  or  ever  will  know,  until  the  city  or  some  one  of  its  rich  men 
decides  to  give  the  children  a  playground  in  every  ward,  which  is  the 
least  that  would  be  effective. 

Many  are  the  confidences  interchanged  between  judge  and  de- 
fendant in  regard  to  the  prohibited  street  games.  The  unraveling 
of  the  tangled  skein  of  a  street  fight,  stone  or  fistic,  is  a  pretty  sure 
way  to  a  boy's  heart.  "Dey  was  a  gang  up  de  street,"  begins  the 
defendant,  and  the  judge  listens  patiently,  knowing  that  the  story 
is  meant  to  clear  the  boy  of  all  participation  in  unla^\'ful  acts,  but 
wilhng  to  spend  the  time  for  the  sake  of  establisliing  friendly  feel- 
ings. In  return  the  judge  bestows  his  confidence  on  the  boy.  "You 
know,"  he  says,  "I've  determined  to  break  up  these  stone  fights. 
You  tell  the  other  fellows  that  it  is  going  to  be  much  harder  from  now 
on  for  boys  brought  in  here  for  throwing  stones." 

"Y'es,sir,"  promises  the  boy.  and  although  he  has  been  fined  and 
knows  that  his  father  and  mother  won't  be  any  too  cordial  to  him 
for  depleting  the  family  treasury  in  this  manner,  nevertheless  he 
leaves  the  Court  with  a  pretty  good  feeling  about  the  judge  and  a 
secret  pride  in  the  court's  dependence  on  him  to  keep  his  end  of  the 
town  in  order. 

In  this  class  of  cases  seasonal  disturbances  are  very  noticeable.  In 
summer  the  largest  number  are  of  boys  who  go  in  to  swim  au  naturel. 
On  very  warm  days  it  seems  almost  ludicrous  that  small  boys  who 
have  no  bathing  suits  and  no  family  bath  tubs  should  be  punished  for 
yielding  to  a  temptation  which  renders  them  much  more  fit  to  be  mem- 
bers of  respectable  society.  The  judges  are  usually  inclined  to  look 
leniently  on  this  crime  of  the  small  boy  and  to  be  a  little  impatient  of 
the  policeman  who  has  brought  him  to  Court  for  it. 

In  the  fall  comes  the  season  of  football,  coincident  with  the  uni- 
versity games.  Then  is  the  time  when  the  stately  president  of  the 
Rangers'  Literary  and  Athletic  Club  of  Harlem  abandons  the  safer 
part  of  the  club's  programme  and  finds  himself  in  consequence  in 
the  Children's  Court  charged  with  kicking  a  football  into  the  base- 
ment of  a  German  lady's  house,  said  German  lady  having  called  in 
three  policemen  to  help  her  carry  the  invading  football  to  the  station 
house.  It  being  the  day  after  a  big  game  in  which  the  judge's  uni- 
versity has  come  out  best,  he  has  a  fellow  feeling  for  all  football 
enthusiasts  and  the  defendant  is  discharged  with  an  admonition  to 
tell  the  Rangers  to  find  a  vacant  lot. 

325 


THE   FRIENDLY   COURT 

Not  as  many  boys  are  brought  in  charged  with  football  playing 
as  with  other  street  disturbances  because  comparatively  few  boys 
have  footballs.  That  doesn't  always  deter  them  from  attempting  a 
game,  however,  as  was  proved  one  day  last  autumn,  when  two  very  little 
boys  were  brought  up  charged  with  kicking  a  tin  can.  It  was  ex- 
plained that  upper  West  Side  residents  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by 
the  uneartlily  racket  of  the  can  kickinoj.  "Well,  what  kind  of  a  game 
is  that.'"  asked  the  Court  of  the  small  boys.  Then  it  developed  that 
it  had  really  been  the  Princeton- Yale  game,  only  the  small  boys  had 
no  football,'  so  they  had  substituted  the  tin  cans. 

Bonfires,  of  course,  blaze  most  brightly  at  election  time.  On  the 
day  after  the  last  election  sixty  boys  were  tried  in  the  Children's 
Court  for  building  bonfires.  Besides  the  danger  of  setting  fire  to 
things,  the  destruction  of  city  asphalt  is  much  dwelt  upon  in  the  ad- 
monition of  bonfire  defendants.  To  further  impress  upon  the  boys 
what  the  destruction  of  city  property  means,  one  of  the  judges  who 
sits  in  the  Court  has  evolved  a  little  theory  of  political  economy  which 
does  not  end  with  telling  the  boys  that  asphalt  costs  six  dollars  a  foot, 
l)ut  brings  the  expense  home  to  his  own  door  by  showing  that  the  in- 
crease in  taxes,  due  to  the  destruction  of  city  property  raises  rents  and 
the  cost  of  provisions  and  thus  the  boy's  own  father  is  forced  to  pay 
more  money  because  he  builds  bonfires.  Two  young  defendants  who 
had  evidently  been  sufficiently  impressed  by  the  asphalt  argument 
to  build  a  fire  in  a  pail  and  carry  it  up  on  the  roof  of  a  tenement,  in- 
stead of  having  it  in  the  street,  were  hurt  and  astonished  when  they 
discovered  that  their  efforts  to  save  the  city's  asphalt  were  not  in  the 
least  appreciated  by  the  police  and  that  they  were  haled  to  Court 
precisely  as  if  they  had  not  tried  to  do  what  was  right. 

A  GREAT  variety  of  cases  come  under  the  head  of  improper 
guardianship.  They  are  the  children  who  are  insufficiently 
provided  with  the  material  necessities  of  life,  those  who  are  not 
kept  clean  and  those  whose  surroundings  are  undesirable  from  a 
moral  point  of  view.  The  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Children  brings  these  children  into  Court  as  do  also  many  other  phil- 
anthropic societies  and  private  persons.  Frequently  a  tenant  of  an 
apartment  house  complains  to  the  Court  of  the  lack  of  care  given  to 
children  in  the  same  house.  Janitors  also  bring  this  matter  to  the 
Court's  attention.  Policemen  bring  into  Court  all  children  found 
sleeping  in  the  streets,  the  doorsteps  of  buildings,  etc..  lost  children 
and  mnaways.  Children  who  sell  papers  or  peddle  after  hours  or 
without  a  license, — that  is,  if  they  are  very  young, — also  come  under 
this  division.     If  they  are  past  fourteen  the  runaways  and  pedlers 

^26 


5    -5    U 
2    <   < 

H  C 

u  (.  m 

^    O'    [i. 

^  .?  o 

ps 

?  u  a 

:i  i  o 

■^  ::  2; 


=   u:   2 

—      < 


:"  y.  rT; 


X  y. 

-  ? 


r 


5  < 


''I.as  Ptu-rtas,"  a  Cali/oiiiia  Him^r 


W.  J.  Tf.'is 


"THE  ENTRANCE  lo  THE  HOISE  IS  A  BIT  OF  WELI.- 
MA.NAUED  I'EKSI'ECTIVE  GARUENING.  THE  UNEVEN 
LINE  OF  THE  TREES  AND  THE  BROKEN  SKYLINE 
REBALANCING  THE   LANDSCAPE." 

"FROM  ONE  AI'I'ROACH  THE  HOUSE  IS  SEEN 
THROUGH  AN  ARCHED  GATEWAY  FORMED  BY  TWO 
OLD   ELM    TREES." 


"TllK  KlXAinE  PLACINti  OF  THE  TWO  CK.DAR  TREES 
AND  THE  PORTAL  LAMPS  (ilVE  TO  THE  EVE  A  SEN- 
SATION OF  i;KEATEK  lirSIANCE  THAN  REALLY 
EXISTS." 


THE  (iI«ir.NUS  UOAST  A  M  At.Nll'RKNT  liRAPE 
AKIiOR  BUILT  OF  BOUGHS,  THE  BARK  STILL  ON,  AND 
BENT    HERE    AMI    THERE    IN    ARCHED    DOORWAYS." 


"ANOTHER  VIEW  OK  A  CAREI-ULl.Y  THOUGHT  OUT 
EFFECT  IS  SHOWN  IN  THIS  I'HOTOCKAPH  OF  ONE 
OF   THE    SH)E    ENTRANCES." 


nW.R  llIK  KKAK  I'oKl  II  S  HKCJUIH  NC,  TIIK  CHIMNEV 
(.Rhus  TIIK  I.AlU;tST  KUSF.RISH  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
IT  IS  A  TA.Nc:i.EI>  MASS  OF  I.F.AVKS  AND  BLOOM. 
KKAlllINCl    ri'   THIKTY    FEET    FROM    THE    GROUND." 


s 


*\ 


ft^tl^^'  ifcs 


fe^ 


■^Aw^ 


^■;X- 


^  =  5 

2  J-  "^  vi 


■^ ,.  y  r 


\^^: 

'h- 

\ 

s.  , 

-•.IV. 


^ —  -jt 


iy\ 


si 

S  c 
ca 

u:  K  ^ 

?  s  - 


;s  - 
;  "^  5 

=    H    < 


-:  V-.  '-z 


U    7; 


THE  FRIENDLY   COURT 

are  usually  brought  up  under  other  charges,  that  of  being  ungovern- 
able cliildren  or  of  violating  city  ordinances. 

Sometimes  under  the  charge  of  improper  guardianship  children 
are  brought  into  Court  because  of  a  misapprehension  or  through  the 
interference  of  overzealous  neighbors  who  have  too  stereotyped  a  loile 
\\ath  which  to  measure  the  conditions  of  life.  One  such  case  was  that 
of  three  children,  the  eldest  a  girl  of  nine,  who  had  no  mother  and 
were  left  alone  in  their  tenement  house  rooms  wliile  their  father  was 
away  at  work.  When  brought  into  Court  the  children  looked  sur[)risingly 
well  and  strong  and  showed  not  the  least  sign  of  neglect.  The  eldest 
girl  said  that  she  took  care  of  the  other  children  while  her  father  was 
away  at  work. 

"And  who  gets  your  food  ?"  asked  the  judge. 

"  I  do,"  said  the  little  girl.     "  First  I  buy  it  and  then  I  cook  it." 

"And  what  do  you  have  ?"  asked  the  interested  judge. 

"Beefsteak  and  onions,"  said  the  small  cook,  proudly. 

Although  this  little  girl  was  not  able  under  the  circumstances  to 
attend  school  it  was  deemed  best  not  to  break  up  the  happy  family 
group  by  distributing  the  children  in  institutions;  instead  the  father 
was  assured  he  would  be  assisted  to  provide  such  care  for  the  children 
at  home  as  would  enable  the  older  ones  to  attend  school. 

Scarcely  a  morning  passes  in  the  Court  without  the  trial  of  at  least 
one  runaway.  There  are  the  out-of-town  children  who  come  to  New 
York  to  see  the  sights  and  are  found  by  policemen  after  their  funds 
have  been  exhausted,  sleeping  in  doorways  or  wandering  aimlessly 
about  the  streets.  The  city  runaways  are  of  two  kinds,  those  who 
are  merely  street  vagrants  addicted  to  the  habit  of  sleeping  in  door- 
ways at  night  and  on  whom  family  ties  frequently  sit  no  more  lightly 
than  they  do  on  their  parents,  and  the  more  picturesque  type  who 
starts  for  the  open  every  once  in  a  while  after  a  course  in  Wild  West 
literature.  There  are  many  small  boys  in  New  York  who  still  be- 
lieve that  Indians  and  wild  animals  await  them  just  beyond  the  city 
hmits.  A  group  of  these  children  were  found  at  midnight  in  a  Harlem 
restaurant  not  long  ago.  A  policeman  who  saw  them  there  went  in 
to  inquire  why  they  were  out  so  late  and  discovered  that  they  were 
equipped  ■vvith  pistol  Vjelts  in  which  were  thrust  strange,  old  weapons 
that  they  had  bought  at  a  junk  shop.  To  a  sympathetic  inquirer 
in  Court  next  morning  they  confided  that  they  had  expected  soon  to 
be  able  to  find  a  cave  suitable  for  living  purposes,  with  Indians  and 
bears  properly  adjacent. 

The  probation  system  of  the  Court  has  proved  most  efficacious. 
"Of  the  six  thousand,  five  hundred  and  seventy-nine  children  placed 
on  probation  since  the  opening  of  the  Court  to  nineteen  hundred  and 

327 


THE   FRIENDLY   COUll  r 

seven  it  has  been  possible,"  says  the  report  of  the  Court,  "to  set  the 
feet  of  five  thousand,  five  hundred  and  forty-three  so  firmly  in  the 
way  that  leads  to  good  citizenship  that  neither  has  their  commitment 
to  institutions  been  necessary  nor  have  they  been  brought  back  to 
Court  at  any  time  in  all  of  that  period  and  committed  for  recurrent 
offences." 

Future  generations  will  have  reason  to  be  grateful  to  the  Cliildren's 
Court  for  many  things  and  most  of  all  for  the  personal  devotion  and 
untiring  zeal  which  its  judges  have  l:)rought  to  the  discharge  of  their 
duty.  The  justices  of  the  court  of  special  sessions  preside  in  turn 
over  the  Children's  Court.  The  law  permits  the  judge  to  act  as 
magistrate,  trial  judge  and  jury  combined.  No  finer  exhibition  of 
unaffected  devotion  to  public  duty  is  to  be  observed  in  New  York 
than  the  conduct  of  the  cases  in  the  Cliildren's  Court.  The  judges 
seem  to  have  it  upon  their  consciences  that  the  boy  or  girl  who  comes 
up  before  them  is  at  a  crucial  point  in  his  career,  and  the  responsibility 
of  setting  the  child  in  the  right  direction  is  discharged  by  every  judge 
of  the  Court  with  unfailing  patience  and  an  intelligence  that  is  equally 
admirable. 

THE  most  serious  cases  that  come  to  the  Court  are  those  of  the 
boy  thieves  and  the  girls  who  have  taken  to  a  vicious  way  of 
life  when  in  years  they  are  still  only  children.  There  are  very  few- 
girl  thieves,  but  the  other  kind  of  girl  offenders  seem  much  more 
hopeless  in  respect  to  any  possible  reformation  than  do  any  of  the 
boys.  The  only  hope  for  girls  of  this  kind,  according  to  the  philan- 
thropists who  are  familiar  with  their  careers,  is  that  they  should  be 
taught  how  to  work.  Then  if  such  a  girl  is  so  fortunate  as  to  win 
the  regard  of  a  man  for  whom  she  really  cares  and  who  knowing  her 
story  is  still  willing  to  marry  her  she  sometimes  becomes  permanently 
reformed.  Boy  thieves  are  in  the  great  majority  either  pickpocket 
or  sneak  thieves.  The  Court  is  the  sworn  foe  of  the  junk  dealer 
who  profits  by  the  cliildren's  crime  and  of  the  older  Ijoys  or  men  who 
invariably  train  them  for  their  work.  The  effort  of  the  Court  is  al- 
ways to  discover  these  criminal  men  who  make  use  of  the  cliildren 
and  exact  from  them  fully  fifty  per  cent,  of  the  value  of  all  that  they 
steal. 

Although  not  the  most  frequent  form  of  larceny  in  the  Children's 
Court,  l)urglary  is  b}'  no  means  unknown  there,  and  highway  robbery 
is  also  to  be  numbered  among  juvenile  crimes.  One  pale,  undersized 
boy  less  than  nine  years  old  who  came  into  the  Court  recently  had  a 
record  of  three  burglaries,  the  first  having  occurred  soon  after  he  was 
eight.     He  had  broken  into  stores  and  stolen  articles  of  considerable 

3-8 


THE   FRIENDLY   COURT 

bulk  and  some  value,  ^^l^eu  arrested  the  last  time  he  had  in  his 
possession  a  bunch  of  more  than  fifty  keys  with  which  he  might  have 
entered  as  manv  houses  in  the  neig-hborhood. 

As  regards  the  functions  of  the  Court,  it  may  be  said  to  occupy 
primarily  the  position  of  a  city  father,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term. 
It  is  precisely  this  office  which  it  fills  toward  the  children  whose  home 
life  has  proved  to  be  insufficiently  helpful  or  disciplinary.  The  Court 
has  also  recognized  from  the  first  the  need  for  parental  education 
and  speedily  resolved  itself  into  a  school  for  fathers  and  mothers. 
The  field  is  a  large  one,  extending  all  the  way  from  the  American 
mother  who  is  unwilling  to  admit  that  her  boy  could  be  at  fault,  to 
the  Italian  father  who  in  too  many  instances  when  a  child  is  out  of  work 
shrugs  his  shoulders,  says  '*  Boy  no  good,"  and  appears  in  the  Children's 
Court  to  ask  that  he  be  sent  to  the  Collegia,  by  woiich  title  he  admiringly 
designates  the  Catholic  Protectory.  It  is  only  fair  to  the  Italian 
parent  to  say  that  he  does  not  regard  a  sentence  to  such  an  institution 
as  a  disgrace  to  the  child  or  his  family,  but,  on  the  contrary,  considers 
it  a  means  of  pro\4ding  a  superior  education  for  the  child,  somewhat 
in  the  nature  of  a  university  training.  It  has  been  found  in  a  sufficient 
number  of  instances  for  it  to  have  been  remarked  by  the  Court  officials 
that  the  Italian  parent  looks  upon  Yale,  Harvard  and  the  Catholic 
Protectory  as  on  a  somewhat  similar  educational  footing. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  Court  finds  it  more  difficult  to  plant 
the  seed  of  pai-ental  education  in  the  mind  of  the  American  mother 
and  in  that  of  the  fairly  prosperous  parent  of  any  nationality  than  in 
that  of  the  tenement  house  parent,  be  he  Italian  or  Hebrew.  When 
these  latter,  whose  principal  parental  weakness  is  not  overindulgence 
but  rather  a  desire  to  relinquish  all  responsibility  for  their  children, 
present  these  news  to  the  Court  they  suffer  a  rude  awakening  when 
told  that  if  the  child  is  committed  to  an  institution  the  parent  must 
pay  the  State  two  dollars  and  tlurty-tive  cents  a  week  for  its  mainte- 
nance. Of  course  this  sum  is  modified  when  it  is  found  that  the  par- 
ents are  actually  unable  to  pay  and  that  it  would  really  be  better  for 
the  child  to  be  in  an  institution.  The  full  sum,  however,  is  always 
quoted  as  being  necessary  when  it  is  seen  that  a  parent  is  merely 
trying  to  rid  himself  of  his  cliild.  Very  often  the  fact  that  the  State 
thus  holds  him  responsible  for  the  maintenance  of  his  child  is  the  first 
revelation  the  father  has  had  that  in  America  the  child  is  deemed 
to  have  a  hold  upon  its  parents  even  when  it  is  unable  or  unwilling 
to  contribute  to  the  familv  funds. 


329 


TWO  CRAFTSMAN  HOUSES  PLANNED  TO  SHOW 
THAT  COMFORTABLE  LIVING  DEPENDS  MORE 
UPON  THE  RIGHT  ARRANGEMENT  THAN  UPON 
THE  SIZE  OF  THE  HOUSE:  DESIGNED  FOR 
THE  HOME  BUILDERS    CLUB 


WE  are  showing  in  this  number  two 
Craftsman  hoi:ses,  one  of  brick 
and  one  of  stone,  that  are  more 
than  usually  original  and  attrac- 
tive in  design.  The  rear  view  only  of  the 
brick  house  is  shown  in  the  illustration. 
The  porch  of  this  house  gives,  in  English 
fashion,  upon  a  garden  sunken  a  few  feet, 
so  that  a  terrace  is  formed  of  the  land 
between  it  and  the  house.  This  porch 
consists  of  two  pergolas,  upon  which 
vines  may  be  trained,  and  between  them, 
a  small  roof  protects  the  entrance  to  the 
door.  The  open^construction  of  a  pergola 
admits  more  light  to  a  house  than  a  roofed 
porch  does,  and  in  this  case  is  also  more 
attractive  than  the  usual  porch  would  be. 
because  it  is  in  keeping  with  the  garden 
that  stretches  before  it.  The  house  may  be 
built  of  red  brick,  or  of  a  less  usual  variety 
that  have  rough  porous  surfaces  and  come 
in  various  dull  Oriental  colors.  These, 
when  artistically  arranged,  give  a  won- 
derfully rich  effect.  If  these  were  used, 
the  woodwork,  which  is  the  soft,  dee[) 
brown  of  chemically  treated  cypress,  would 
be  in  absolute  color  harmony.  The  roof 
is  of  slate,  which  seems  more  fitting  than 
shinHes   for   a   house   built   of   brick,   al- 


though, of  course,  it  could  be  roofed  with 
shingles,  if  preferred.  The  exposed  raft- 
ers are  treated  like  the  rest  of  the  wood- 
work, as  are  also  the  rafters  and  purlins 
in  the  roof  over  the  doorway.  The  end 
walls  of  the  house,  with  a  narrow  cement 
coping  along  the  top,  are  carried  above 
the  roof  and  form  one  side  of  the  chimney 
at  either  peak.  Thus  a  decorative  effect 
i^  worked  out  from  a  reasonable  variation 
in  construction.  The  flat  arches,  over  the 
windows,  that  are  necessary  to  support 
the  walls  are  carried  through  to  the  sur- 
face, and  in  this  way  an  interesting  varia- 
tion is  made  in  the  outside  of  the  wall, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  sufficient  finish  is 
given  to  the  windows  so  that  they  do  not 
look  bare  and  staring  without  shutters. 

The  walls  of  the  wing,  thrown  out  at 
either  side,  are  also  carried  up  beyond  its 
roof,  where  they  form  the  parapet  of  a 
little  balcony.  The  top  of  the  parapet 
is  slightly  crenelated  and  the  depressions 
are  fitted  with  flower  boxes.  The  bal- 
conies are  floored  with  a  composition  roof- 
ing, and  are  drained  by  groups  of  outlets, 
each  the  width  of  a  single  brick.  The 
drain  is  above  a  projecting  cornice,  which, 
extending  about  the  whole  house,  marks 


,^.30 


CRAFISMAN   HOUSES   PLANNED   FOR  COMFORT 


FIRST  FLOOR 
PLAN    FOR 
BRICK  HOUSE 


SECOND   FLOOR 
PLAN  FOR 
BRICK   HOUSE. 


the  belt  course  and  keeps  the  drippings 
from  running  down  the  walls  of  the  wings. 
The  balconies  are  entered  by  French 
doors. 

All  the  windows  on  the  lower  story  of 
the  house,  and  those  above  the  roof  over 
the  door  are  casements,  opening  out.  The 
door  which  leads  from  the  porch  directly 
into  the  living  room  is  made  entirely  of 
small  panes  of  glass  set  in  a  deep  frame ; 
on  either  side,  a  frame  panel  of  wood  is 
set  into  the  brickwork  to  half  the  height 
of  the  door.  Above  the.se  panels  two  little 
casements  are  placed  that  may  stand  open, 


when  an  open  door  would  admit  too  much 
air  or  force  a  draught. 

The  house  is  compactly  arranged  both 
upstairs  and  down.  One  of  the  rHOst  in- 
teresting features  is  the  front  entrance, 
which  is  shown  in  the  interior  view,  and 
given  still  more  clearly  in  the  floor  plan. 
One  enters  the  house  through  a  vestibule, 
the  iloor  of  which  is  on  a  level  with  the 
ground.  Within,  opposite  the  entrance 
door,  three  steps  go  up  to  the  living  room. 
Owing  to  this  difference  in  floor  levels, 
the  stairs  that  lead  from  the  living  room 
to  the  second  story  can   run  up  over  the 

335 


CRAFTSMAN   HOUSES   PLANNED   FOR   COMFORT 


— n 

.""'        1 

1 

■  ■  +  +  -- 

1 

■  -  -  -  t  ;  F  < 

:::"" 

. 

■^     ^■'     ' 

±::: 

rough 


STONE    HOUSE. 


PoRC« 


vestibule,  and  thus  space  is  economized. 
Another  advantage  in  this  arrangement  is 
that  the  living  room  is  protected  from 
draughts.  The  space  under  the  stairs  is 
used  for  a  coat  closet  and  the  correspond- 
ing space  on  the  other  side  of  the  vestibule 
is  occupied  by  a  toilet ;  both  are  entered 
from  the  vestibule.  On  either  side  of  the 
entrance  door  the  arrangement  of  panels 
with  casements  above,  to  which  attention 
has  already  been  called,  serves  to  give 
light  to  the  vestibule.  The  construction 
of  this  door  is  especially  interesting.  It 
is  made  of  three  wide  thick  planks,  V- 
jointed,  with  three  small  square  lights  in 
the  top.  The  wide  strap-hinges  that  ex- 
tend almost  the  entire  width  of  the  door, 
are  of  hanrl-wrought  metal. 

The  plan  of  the  upper  floor  exi)lains  il- 
.■^elf.  The  rooms  are  all  airy  and  well 
lighted  and  furnished  with  roomy  closets. 

The  stone  house  we  consider  as  attrac- 
tive a  cottage,  inside  and  out,  as  we  have 
ever    published.      It    is    built    entirely    of 

336 


tone,  except  for  the 
necessary  timbers,  window 
and  door  frames,  which  are 
of  cypress.  The  roof  might 
be  painted  a  dull  red,  which 
would  add  an  interesting 
touch  of  color  to  the  land- 
scape about  if  the  house 
should  be  built  in  the  open 
country  or  on  the  seashore. 
All  the  timbers  are  left  ex- 
posed, making  a  rugged 
finish  consistent  with  the 
rough  exterior  of  stone.  The 
chimneys  are  a  continuous 
wall  from  base  to  top,  the 
roof  having  almost  no  pro- 
jection over  the  ends  of  the 
house.  The  windows  are  one 
uf  the  most  attractive  fea- 
tures of  this  design.  The 
dormers  are  graceful  in  their 
proportion  and  relate  har- 
moniously to  the  slope  of  the 
roof.  They  are  fitted  with 
simple  casements  opening 
upon  garden  boxes.  The  win- 
dows in  the  lower  story  are  very  broad 
in  comparison  with  their  height,  and  are 
divided  into  three  sections.  The  middle 
section  is  a  stationary  panel  of  glass ;  the 
two  outside  sections  are  casements  which 
open  out.  On  the  sides  of  the  house  are 
smaller  windows,  similar  in  shape,  which 
have  a  double  casement  in  place  of  the 
glass  panel.  A  wall,  running  out  from 
either  side  of  the  house,  separates  the  lawn 
from  the  rear  of  the  grounds. 

The  interior  view  shows  a  rear  corner 
of  the  living  room.  The  chimneypiece 
suggests  the  exterior  of  the  house  because 
it  is  of  the  same  material,  and  thus  brings 
the  whole  into  closer  relation.  There  is 
a  great  deal  of  woodwork  in  this  room 
and  throughout  the  lower  story;  as  the 
house  was  planned,  this  wood  is  of  elm 
stained  to  a  soft  brown.  Elm  is  a  very  de- 
sirable finishing  wood  because  of  the  vari- 
ety of  the  graining.  It  has  the  long  wave- 
like  vein  of  cypress  and,  beside  that,  a 
'-horf.  close,  rii)])ling  figure  that  covers  the 


FIRST    FLOOR    PLAN. 


CRAFTSMAN    HOUSES   PLANNED    lOIl   COMFORT 


STONE   HOUSE. 


rest  of  the  surface.  Thus 
it  is  suited  to  places  where 
small  areas  of  wood  are 
required,  as  well  as  to  ex- 
panses that  need  a  heavy 
and  striking  grain  to  give 
them  character.  The  ingle- 
nook  is  wainscoted  with 
V-jointed  boards.  At  the 
joints  of  the  boards  that 
mask  the  end  of  the  seat, 
keys  of  wood  are  inlaid, 
giving  an  extra  firmness 
to  the  joint.  These  may 
be  of  the  same  wood,  or 
of  some  other  if  desired, 
and,  with  the  tenons  form- 
ing the  end  of  the  seat, 
relieve  the  plain  surface 
of  the  boards.  As  will  be 
seen  in  the  floor  plan,  this 
seat  is  as  useful  as  at- 
tractive. By  lifting  up  the 
top,  one  finds  the  logs  for 
the  hearth  fire,  placed  un- 
der there  through  a  little 
door  from  the  kitchen. 
The  floor  plan  also  shows  a  breakfast 
porch,  in  the  form  of  a  loggia,  at  one  cor- 
ner of  the  house.  It  is  interesting  to  notice 
how  exactly  every  inch  of  space  in  the 
house  has  been  calculated  for  use.  The 
pantry  is  especially  commodious  and  up- 
stairs we  find  everywhere  the  same  roomi- 
ness and  convenience.  The  sewing  room 
is  a  valuable  adjunct  to  the  house.  There 
is  a  big  bathroom,  a  sleeping  porch  and 
three  large  chambers,  each  having  a  seat 
built  into  its  dormer  window,  and  two  large 
closets.  Both  houses  have  been  carefully 
planned  insifie  and  out  for  comfortable 
and  convenient  living. 

One  of  the  charms  of  the  interiors  of 
both  these  houses  is  the  amount  of 
furniture  that  is  built  into  them.  Tiie 
seats,  closets  and  bookshelves  that  we  find 
included  in  the  fixtures,  more  than  half 
solve  the  problem  of  furnishing.  Furni- 
ture that  is  built  to  fit  the  place  it  is  in 
is  usually  more  decorative  and  more  com- 
fortable than  detached  pieces  could  be  in 


■T^oor 


SECOND  FLOOR   PL.^iN. 


the  same  places.  Space  is  saved  by  this 
means  and  a  keynote  is  given  for  the  rest 
of  the  fittings  in  the  house  which,  unless 
it  is  utterly  disregarded,  will  tend  to  keep 
the  furnishings  of  the  rooms  in  harmony. 
A  house  with  a  certain  quantity  of  built- 
in  furniture  never  has  that  bare  unlivcd-in 
look  that  some  homes  have.  Even  before 
the  final  furnishing  is  added,  the  elements 
of  hospitality  are  present  and  make  them- 
selves felt  in  the  deep  window  seats  or 
the  cozy  inglenook.  This  is  true  even  as 
regards  the  kitchens.  There  is  very  little 
lacking  in  the  way  of  kitchen  furnishings 
in  either  of  these  Craftsman  houses.  In 
the  brick  house  we  find  two  large  closets 
and  a  sink,  a  convenient  shelf  by  the  range 
and  a  dresser  with  shelves  above  and  cup- 
boards beneath.  In  the  stone  house  there 
are  closets  in  the  pantry,  including  a  cold 
closet  next  to  the  built-in  refrigerator,  and 
in  the  kitchen  itself  we  find  two  sets  of 
cupboards,  a  sink  and  a  long  wooden 
counter. 


337 


A  GARDEN  SHOWING  CAREFUL  THOUGHT 
THROUGHOUT,  IN  THE  ADAPTATION  OF 
NATIVE  BEAUTY  AND  IN  THE  ROMANTIC  AP- 
PEAL OF  ITS  ARRANGEMENT:  BY  C.  A.  BYERS 


WE  are  publishing  the  accompany- 
ing photographs  of  the  estate  of 
"Las  Puertas"  near  Bakersville, 
CaHfornia,  as  a  suggestion  and 
perhaps  a  revelation  to  the  lover  of  gar- 
dens. Everyone  has  not  as  an  asset  in 
gardening,  the  productive  climate  of  Cal- 
ifornia; but,  aside  from  the  wonderful 
luxuriance  of  growth,  it  will  be  seen  that 
these  photographs  illustrate  certain  funda- 
mental principles  of  gardening  which  no 
real  garden-maker  on  a  small  or  large  scale 
can  afford  to  overlook. 

"Las  Puertas"  or  "The  Gates,"  so  called 
from  its  situation  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Stockdale  Ranch,  is  owned  by  Mrs.  W.  J. 
Tevis,  and  the  making  of  these  gardens  has 
been  under  her  supervision.  It  has  taken 
years  to  bring  this  estate  to  its  present  per- 
fection, and  almost  infinite  patience ;  but 
the  result  more  than  repays  the  labor. 

Gardening  in  a  small  way  is  not  only  a 
matter  of  planting,  weeding  and  watering ; 
that  is  but  the  technique.  It  has  also  its 
artistic  side;  its  effects  with  color,  placing 
and  form,  and  with  a  large  garden,  this  is 
practically  unlimited.  Gardening  on  a  large 
scale  is  not  only  a  matter  of  selection  and 
skill  in  arranging  material,  but  there  must 
be  also  the  quick  perception  of  possibili- 
ties in  the  material  already  in  place.  Such 
a  perception  of  natural  advantage  is  seen 
in  the  situation  of  this  house  so  that  from 
one  approach  it  is  seen  through  the  arched 
gateway  formed  by  two  old  elm  trees.  It 
will  be  noticed  that  the  trees  have  been 
trimmed  slightly  to  make  clearer  the  like- 
ness to  a  gateway.  Nothing  so  adds  to  the 
beauty  of  a  piece  of  property  as  a  few 
grand  old  shade  trees,  yet  how  often  are 
they  fut  down  because  they  interfere  with 
what  the  owner  has  selected  as  the  most 
proper  site  for  his  house.  In  all  probabil- 
ity, the  house  would  be  improved  if  the  site 
were  selected  with  reference  to  the  trees. 
On  nearer  view  the  house  proves  to  be 

338 


built  of  cement  in  the  modified  Mission 
style.  The  fence  is  a  low  foundation  of 
brick  with  brick  posts  connected  by  a 
beautiful  spindled  railing.  The  masses  of 
vine  planted  behind  it  are  most  effectively 
used ;  they  are  not  allowed  to  quite  cover 
it,  but  are  trained  away  in  places  so  that 
the  formal  beauty  of  the  railing  is  con- 
trasted with  the  luxuriant  beauty  of  the 
vines.  There  is  no  architectural  variation 
on  the  two  sides  of  the  house  and  the 
shrubs  and  trees  are  geometrically  bal- 
anced. The  entrance  to  the  house  is  a  bit 
of  well  managed  perspective  gardening. 
The  proportion  between  the  width  of  the 
steps  leading  to  the  porch  and  that  of  the 
few  leading  into  the  grounds,  the  relative 
placing  of  the  two  cedar  trees  and  the 
portal  lamps  give  to  the  eye  a  sensation  of 
greater  distance  than  is  really  there.  Be- 
fore this  symmetry  grows  monotonous  the 
uneven  arrangement  of  the  trees  rising  be- 
hind the  house  ancl  the  broken  skyline 
made  by  their  tops  rebalances  the  land- 
scape. 

Another  of  these  carefully  thought  out 
effects  is  shown  in  the  photograph  of  one 
of  the  side  entrances  to  the  grounds,  giving 
directly  upon  a  wing  of  the  house.  The 
only  glimpse  one  has  into  the  grounds  is 
through  the  opening  between  two  poplar 
trees  on  the  right.  These  are  set  to  frame 
a  vista  selected  for  its  beauty,  and  the 
thick  banking  of  shrubs  and  vines  between 
the  poplars  and  the  fence  prevents 
anything  being  seen  outside  of  this 
frame.  Within  it  we  have  a  complete  pic- 
ture of  lawn  and  tree  and  shrub  chosen 
with  all  the  artist's  care  for  composition  of 
mass  and  tone.  The  charm  of  such  effects 
lies  in  their  une.\pectedness  and  seeming 
chance.  One  of  the  most  delightful  ex- 
amples of  thus  framing  a  little  portion  of 
the  world  is  the  famous  keyhole  in  the 
gate  leading  into  the  monastery  garden  of 
the  Knights  of  Malta  at  Rome.     Standing 


AT  THE  REAR  ANM)  SIDES  OF  THE  HOUSE  THE 
GREEN  IS  IN  GREAT  I'ROKUSION  ;  A  MASS  OK  IVY 
AND  ROSEIRSHES  REACH  UP  TO  THE  ShXOND 
STORY." 


THE  BEST  OLIMTSE  ONE  HAS  INTO  THE  GROt'NDs 
IS  THROUGH  THE  OrKNING  liETWEEN  TWO  POl-LAR 
TREES.  THESE  ARE  SET  TO  FRAME  A  VISTA  OK 
RARE    BEArTV." 


VALUABLE   SUGGESTIONS  FOR  THE  LOVER  OF  GARDENS 


outside  in  the  hot  and  dusty  street,  one 
may  place  his  eye  to  the  aperture  and  sud- 
denly find  himself  at  the  head  of  a  long, 
cool  vista  between  two  tall  evergreen 
hedges,  at  the  end  of  which,  against  the 
panel  of  blue  sky  between  them,  the  great 
white  dome  of  St.  Peter's  rises  above  the 
shadowy  mass  of  roofs  that  cover  the  city 
of  Rome. 

The  photograph  following  that  of  the 
house  shows  that  the  arrangement  of  the 
shrubs  and  trees  has  been  considered  from 
the  viewpoint  of  the  people  within  as  well 
as  of  the  passerby.  The  picture  is  taken 
from  the  porch  at  the  right-hand  corner 
looking  toward  the  street.  There  is  some- 
thing unquestionably  restful  to  the  eye  in 
the  repetition  of  parallel  lines  and  similar 
forms,  and  this  is  made  use  of  in  the  three 
palms  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  lawn  on 
either  side  of  the  house.  They  will  make 
the  center  of  everj'  outlook  in  that  direc- 
tion so  that  the  keynote  will  be  always  a 
quiet  and  stately  dignity.  It  is  noticeable 
that  the  heavy  drapery  of  green  ivy  around 
the  porch  has  not  been  left  to  stop  abrupt- 
ly at  its  edge  but  has  been  continued  to  the 
bottom  of  the  steps  by  means  of  the  ivy- 
covered  tub  holding  a  little  orange  tree. 

The  grounds  boast  of  magnificent  grape 
arbors  built  of  boughs,  the  bark  still  upon 
them,  bent  here  and  there  into  arched 
doorways  leading  out  upon  the  lawn.  At 
the  rear  and  sides  of  the  house  the  green- 
er}' is  in  even  greater  profusion.  A  mass 
of  ivy  and  rosebushes  run  up  to  the  sec- 
ond story  on  some  of  the  wings,  to  be  con- 
tinued again  by  ivy  to  the  very  eaves.  Over 
the  rear  porch,  shrouding  the  roof  and 
chimney,  grows  the  largest  rosebush  in 
California  and  probably  in  the  United 
States.  It  is  of  the  white  Banksian  variety 
and  reaches,  in  a  tangled  mass  of  leaves 
and  bloom,  over  thirty  feet  from  the 
ground.  In  front  of  this  rose-covered 
terrace  an  attractive  little  flower  patch  is 
made  in  the  shape  of  a  basket  covered  with 
vines  and  filled  with  growing  flowers  of 
delicate  hues.  It  will  be  noticed  that  the 
design  of  the  fence  about  the  house  is  re- 
peated in  the  railings  of  the  terraces,  and 


the  same  coloring  is  in  the  house  with  its 
tiled  roof  and  porches  and  terraces  floored 
with  brick. 

The  largest  portion  of  the  estate  lies  be- 
hind the  house  where  the  garden  is  on  a 
larger  scale,  although  everywhere  the  same 
unwearying  attention  to  detail  has  been 
given.  One  comes  upon  new  charms  at 
cverv  turn.  Stretches  of  well-kept  lawn 
appear  now  and  then,  lying  like  quiet  lakes 
with  wooded  margins,  but  for  the  most 
part,  this  area  is  given  over  to  trees  and 
shrubs.  There  are  many  native  shade 
trees,  the  trunks  wreathed  with  masses  of 
vines  that  hang  in  festoons  from  the  lower 
branches.  Clusters  of  Japanese  maples 
with  their  autumn-colored  foliage  flame 
out  in  the  summer  woods,  and  groves  of 
softly  rustling  bamboo  hide  in  their  midst 
pools  whose  presence  is  made  known  only 
by  the  bubbling  ripple  of  the  little  brooks 
that  feed  them.  In  the  springtime  a  bril- 
liant cascade  of  azalea  blossoms  pour  over 
the  sunny  slopes  into  green  pools  of  lawn, 
and  later  wistaria  vines  hang  their  grape- 
like clusters  through  arbors  woven  from 
their  own  vigorous  branches.  Everywhere 
a  network  of  paths  leads  througii  this 
beautiful  jungle  to  cool  summer  houses  or 
benches  placed  in  thoughtful  nooks.  Out 
across  the  fields  a  long  drive  takes  an  ar- 
row-like way  hedged  with  interminable 
poplars. 

One  moves  from  vista  to  vista,  charmed 
with  the  varj'ing  color,  with  interest  pif|ued 
at  every  turn  in  the  road  or  path.  The 
whole  garden  seems  to  unfold  itself  in  a 
beautiful  and  necessary  sequence.  The 
I)leasure  of  color  passes  into  pleasure  of 
form;  shadow  dissolves  into  light,  or  the 
reverse.  The  green  of  an  arbor  opens  out 
into  a  mass  of  garden  bloom,  the  shaded 
wood  walk  leads  to  the  sunny  lawn  ;  or  the 
narrow  hedged  walk  becomes  the  entrance 
to  a  channing  pavilion.  It  is  difficult  to 
remember  that  all  this  was  accomplished 
only  by  careful  planning  and  patient  elim- 
ination of  jarring  details,  but  any  beholder 
of  its  perfections  can  only  say  that  to  pro- 
duce so  much  beauty  it  was  worth  while. 

345 


PLASTER   HOUSE  WITH   ROOF  GARDEN   AND 
PATIO:    BY  UNA  NIXSON  HOPKINS 


THE  architecture  of  Southern  Cal- 
ifornia has  acquired  throughout 
its  development  a  particularly  in- 
dependent cast.  We  have  already 
published  a  number  of  California  houses, 
particularly  of  Pasadena,  showing  the 
great  variety  in  style  resulting  from  the 
consistent  effort  to  adapt  the  houses  to  the 
land,  the  climate  and  the  individual  needs 
of  the  owner. 

The  accompanying  illustrations  are  of  a 
Pasadena  home  built  upon  a  lot  dispro- 
portionately narrow  for  its  depth  and  in 
a  section  of  the  town  where  all  the  other 
buildings  were  of  wood.  The  owner,  with 
a  truly  philanthropic  spirit,  decided  to 
vary  the  landscape  by  putting  up  a  house 
of  plaster  in  the  Mission  style  modified  to 
meet  the  needs  of  a  small  family  of  mod- 
erate means.  The  building  has  but  one 
story  and  is  in  general  shape  rectangular, 
with  a  width  nearly  equal  to  the  frontage 
of  the  lot.  The  top  of  the  bay  window 
and  porch  on  the  front  of  the  house  are 
used  for  flower  boxes,  the  color  of  the 
plants  relieving  the  whiteness  of  the 
plaster,  as  do  the  shrubs  and  vines  planted 
below  against  the  walls.  The  house  is 
finished  around  the  top  with  a  plaster  wall 
of  varying  height,  which,  with  the  cornice, 
and  the  heavy  shadow  that  it  casts,  gives 
an  appearance  of  heaviness  to  the  struc- 
ture sufficient  to  balance  the  weight  of  the 
summer  house  and  pergola  built  upon  the 
roof.  These  were  devised  to  command 
the  view  that  cannot  be  had  from  the  first 
story,  and  are  furnished  with  chairs,  tables 
and  settees,  making  a  pleasant  spot  for 
afternoon  tea  or  for  an  early  evening  meal. 
The  lumber  used  is  pine,  left  rough  and 
stained  a  dull  green.  The  supporting 
posts  are  set  in  tubs  of  earth  in  which 
vines  are  planted  that  later  will  cover  the 
roof  of  the  pavilion.  The  floor  is  flat, 
made  of  six-inch  boards  laid  a  half-inch 
apart  so  that  water  may  run  through  them 
to  the  roof  of  the  house,  which  is  drained 
by  being  sloped  slightly  toward  the  rear. 
From  the  front  porch  one  enters  into  a 
hall  separated  from  the  dining  room  and 

346 


den  on  either  side  by  narrow  partitions. 
These  three  apartments  open  at  the  rear 
by  broad  glass  doors  into  a  large  central 
room,  where  the  effect  of  a  cloister  and 
garden  is  produced  by  plaster  pillars  cor- 
responding to  those  on  the  porch,  sur- 
rounding a  depression  about  two  feet  deep 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  This  is  filled 
with  earth  and  planted  with  ferns  and 
delicate  asparagus  vines,  which  are  kept 
green  and  flourishing  by  a  fountain  in  the 
middle  that  can  be  turned  off  and  on  at 
pleasure. 

The  pillars  support  a  frame  around  an 
opening  in  the  roof  above  the  fernery, 
covered  with  glass.  In  summer  the  glass 
is  replaced  by  screens  and  protected  by  a 
heavy  oilcloth  canopy,  broad  enough  to 
shield  the  opening  from  the  rain,  but  rais- 
ed high  enough  not  to  keep  out  the  light. 
The  floor  of  this  room  is  of  wood  covered 
with  woodstone,  which  has  the  effect  of 
cement.  Sitting  here,  one  looks  through 
other  glass  doors  at  the  rear  end  of  the 
room  upon  masses  of  color  in  the  garden 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  it  is  hard 
to  imagine  that  there  are  buildings  within 
a  few  feet  on  either  side. 

The  arrangement  of  the  other  rooms  is 
shown  in  the  plan.  The  bay  window  seen 
on  the  front  of  the  house  is  in  the  dining 
room.  The  windows  in  it  are  small  case- 
ments set  high  with  the  sideboard  built  in 
below  them.  A  fireplace  opposite  the  en- 
trance from  the  hall  has  a  high  casement 
on  either  side  beneath  which  is  a  china 
cupboard.  The  walls  throughout  the  house 
are  rough,  plastered  and  tinted,  with- 
out painted  decoration  of  any  kind.  Pine 
stained  to  a  red-brown  is  used  in  the  hall 
and  den  and  also  in  the  central  room  ex- 
cept for  the  woodwork  about  the  opening, 
which  is  painted  white  to  continue  the 
color  of  the  ceiling  and  make  a  fitting 
finish  for  the  pillars.  The  woodwork  in 
the  other  rooms  is  also  white. 

At  the  rear  of  the  kitchen,  connected 
also  with  the  central  room,  is  a  screened 
porch  from  which  stairs  lead  up  to  the 
roof  and  down   into  the  cellar.     All  the 


MEW  UK  IIIE  rtlitiOLA  KOUl'   UAKDKN.     THE  LIJMUI.K 
IS    PINE   LEKT   ROUGH    AND    STAINED    DULL   GREEN. 


ONE    END    OF    THE    PATIO,    SHOWING    GLASS    ROOF 
WHICH    IS   l.riT  OPEN    IN    SUMMER. 


A  PLASTER  HOUSE  WITH   ROOF  GARDEN  AND  PATIO 


rooms  except  the  kitchen 
and  pantry  have  an  opening 
into  this  central  room. 

One  or  two  changes 
could  be  made  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  house; 
the  den  could  be  made  into 
a  bedroom  and  the  central 
room  could  be  finished 
without  the  garden.  As  it 
stands,  the  house  has  a  re- 
freshing novelty,  is  an  at- 
tractive piece  of  architec- 
ture characteristic  of  the 
country  in  which  it  is  built 
and  at  the  same  time  is 
thoroughly  adapted  to  the 
life  of  the  owners. 

It  is  surprising  that  in 
this  country  we  do  not  live 
more  in  our  gardens  than 
we  do.  In  Europe  the  plot 
of  ground  about  a  house  is 
used  more  than  the  indoors 
during  the  warm  season ; 
breakfast  and  tea  are  usual- 
ly served  there.  Every  little 
hotel  and  restaurant  has  its 
garden  where  all  meals  may 
be  taken,  if  desired.  In 
England  also,  be  the  gar- 
den ever  so  tiny,  it  is  the 
scene  of  most  of  the  in- 
formal meals.  The  custom  is  slowly  grow- 
ing among  us,  and  it  is  a  very  good  one. 
Fresh  morning  air  taken  liberally  with 
one's  breakfast  is  as  good  a  tonic  as  could 
be  asked  for  appetite  and  digestion.  The 
climate  of  California  has  made  outdoor 
life  so  delightful  that  we  find  more  and 
more  frequently  houses  are  planned  to 
bring  as  much  out  of  doors  as  possible 


FLOOR    PLAN    0» 
PLASTER    HOUSE. 


into  the  house.  This  surely  has  been 
accomplished  in  the  house  which  is  illus- 
trated in  the  accompanying  pictures.  One 
of  the  most  charming  things  about  it  is 
that  the  roof  gardens  can  only  become 
more  beautiful  with  time.  As  the  vines 
planted  an^und  it  grow  more  and  more 
luxuriant  it  will  come  to  resemble  a  vine- 
covered  second  story  to  the  house. 


.■^49 


AN  INTERESTING  NEEDLEWORK  DESIGN 
EVOLVED  FROM  AN  EMBROIDERY  DETAIL 
IN  DA  VINCrS  PAINTING  OF  "THE  LAST 
SUPPER":  BY  KATHRINE  SANGER  BRINLEY 


THERE  is  something  peculiarly  ap- 
pealing about  the  embroidered 
linens  of  the  Renaissance  which  in 
their  preservation  through  centu- 
ries tell  today  a  tale  of  craftsmanship  and 
patience  as  naive  to  twentieth-century 
minds  as  a  Northern  Saga.  Embroidered 
regal  robes  and  priestly  vestments  of  old 
time  still  exhale  an  odor  of  pomp  and 
ceremony,  of  something  above  the  horizon 
of  daily  tasks  in  simple  lives ;  but  the  em- 
broidered linens  wrought  five  hundred 
years  ago,  essentially  domestic  in  charac- 
ter, speak  of  life  with  the  great  majority, 
of  love  and  sorrow,  of  rain  and  sunshine, 
of  winter  and  summer ;  they  stir  the  house- 
wifely heart,  and  touch  in  an  intimate  way 
the  feminine  in  us.  One  fingers  lovingly, 
even  reverently,  some  bit  of  cross-stitch- 
ing upon  a  creamy  cloth  of  flax  worked 
in  fourteen  hundred,  perhaps,  and  a  sad 
vision  of  our  machine-made  linens  five 
hundred  years  hence  flashes  through  the 
mind.  In  this  old  hand-woven  material 
each  thread  has  life,  born,  as  it  were,  of 
its  passage  between  a  living  thumb  and 
finger,  which  gives  to  the  finished  tissue 
a  character  inherently  different  from  the 
mechanically  woven  article.  The  honored 
position  accorded  to  linen  in  the  lives  of 
ancient  peoples,  Assyrians,  Egyptians  and 
Jews,  and  lost  in  modern  times,  is  largely 
accounted   for  by  the  wiping  out   of  the 


hand  loom.  "I  have  decked  my  bed  with  fine 
linen  of  Egypt,"  says  King  Solomon  in  his 
"Book  of  Proverbs;"  and  we  know  that 
in  his  time  linen  symbolized  purity ;  it  was 
the  especial  material  for  kingly  and  priest- 
ly garments,  and  for  the  shiouding  of  the 
sacred  dead.  That  the  linen  ground  was 
often  decorated  with  needlework  in  color- 
ed threads  is  vouched  for  in  many  ancient 
writings ;  in  Greek  and  Roman  classics ; 
and  most  interesting  of  all,  perhaps,  in 
many  archaeological  remains  which  the 
past  one  hundred  and  fifty  vears  have 
brought  to  light.  This  ancient  manner 
of  enriching  linen  with  color  seems  to 
have  continued  without  interruption  until 
modern  times.  One  finds  almost  without 
exception  that  in  the  Orient,  Spain,  Ger- 
many, England  or  Italy,  fifteenth-century 
linens  both  for  house  and  personal  use, 
even  altar  linens  of  the  Church  itself,  were 
embroidered  in  color.  Such  widespread 
use  bespeaks  a  prevailing  love  of  color 
among  all  nations  and  classes  at  that  time. 
This  habitual  employment  of  it  comes  as 
something  of  a  shock  to  the  modern 
needleworker,  for  today  a  sense  of  fitness 
seems  to  demand  that  in  certain  articles, 
ornament  as  well  as  ground  should  be 
white ;  but  during  the  Renaissance  in  Italy 
it  was  not  so ;  and  it  is  with  the  needle- 
work of  that  storied  age  and  laud  we  have 
to  do. 


350 


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H   a:   u; 


SHUWIXi;  I-KAMK  ANU  METHuU  OK  EMBROIDEKINO 
THE  DESICN  TAKEN  FROM  IJA  VINCl'S  FAMOUS 
I'AlMlNl.,    "the   last    suffer. " 


NEEDLEWORK  DESIGNS  FROM  OLD  PAINTINGS 


If  we  will  turn  again  to  the  Italian 
pictures  of  the  Golden  Age  we  shall  find 
the  use  of  colored  ornament  upon  linen 
in  many  important  canvases.  Paul  Vero- 
nese's "Alarriage  at  Cana"  hanging  in  the 
Louvre  sets  forth  a  colored  border  in  the 
table-cloth.  The  most  striking  example 
in  this  Gallery,  however,  and  the  most  valu- 
able because  of  its  design,  is  furnished 
us  in  d'Oggione's  copy  of  Leonardo  da 
Vinci's  "Last  Supper."  The  great  Milan 
fresco  was  finished  about  fourteen  hun- 
dred and  ninety-eight,  and  d'Oggione, 
one  of  Leonardo's  pupils,  made  of  it  many 
copies,  which  are  the  only  ones  that  give 
us  today  anything  like  a  true  impression 
of  what  the  magnificent  Santa  Maria 
delle  Grazie  must  have  been  before  dis- 
integration set  in.  The  Louvre  copy  shows 
a  clear  pattern  in  dark  color  upon  each  end 
of  the  long  white  table-cloth.  Even  after 
passing  through  two  painters' hands  the  de- 
sign still  bespeaks  the  loom  and  the  needle. 
Its  lines  show  plainly  a  rectangular  char- 
acter that  was  forced  upon  the  needle- 
worker  by  the  nature  of  the  linen  ground. 
Cross-stitch,  one  feels  instinctively,  was 
used  for  its  production ;  and  so  faithfully 
is  the  woman's  needlework  reproduced  by 
the  man's  brush  that  it  seems  there  must 
have  been  a  table-cloth  thus  embroidered 
which  Leonardo  copied.  Recalling  that 
this  fresco  was  ordered  by  the  Dominican 
monks  for  the  decoration  of  their  refec- 
tory, it  is  quite  possible  that  such  a  cloth 
draped  one  of  the  long  tables  therein,  at 
which  the  good  Brothers  sat  for  their  daily 
meals,  and  where  the  son  of  "Caterina" 
worked  for  a  great  part  of  ten  years. 

The  design  itself  is  worthy  of  considera- 
tion. At  first  glance  it  seems  just  another 
slightly  grotesque  treatment  of  ordinary 
forms,  after  a  manner  of  those  times.  But 
it  is  something  more  than  that ;  it  is  sym- 
bolic, and  moreover  it  is  most  appropriate 
for  the  use  to  which  it  was  put, — a  test 
of  good  craftsmanship.  The  units  are  a 
horse,  a  chalice  and  a  hicerna  or  oil  lamp, 
(the  light  of  the  people  of  Italy  even  to- 
day), conventionalized.  One  calls  to  mind 
references    to   the    horse    in    the   Hebrew 


scriptures,  and  of  many  those  in  the  first 
and  last  chapters  of  the  Prophecy  of  Zech- 
ariah  and  in  the  sixth  chapter  of'the  Reve- 
lation of  St.  John  come  with  greatest  sig- 
nificance. The  horse  is  there  used  in  a 
prefiguring  of  Judgment,  and  in  symbol- 
izing the  final  triumph  of  Christ.  The  chal- 
ice, of  course,  is  a  symbol  of  Christ's  re- 
ligion and  the  lamp  stands  for  the  Light 
of  the  Gospel,  or  Christ  the  Light  of  the 
World.  These  three  units  are  so  conu- 
posed  that  a  design  of  real  decorative 
value  results. 

Many  Italian  linens  of  the  Renaissance 
are  worked  in  varieties  of  cross-stitch, 
generally  those  which  are  the  same  on 
both  sides,  a  stranded  red  silk  of  purplish 
hue  being  almost  always  used.  English 
and  German  examples  of  the  same  period 
show  a  prevailing  use  of  many  colors. 
These  are  as  a  rule  much  less  pleasing, 
lacking  the  charm  which  comes  of  the 
simpler  treatment.  The  stitchery  was  em- 
ployed in  two  ways:  as  a  background 
which  left  the  pattern  in  the  white  linen, 
or  for  the  production  of  the  pattern  itself, 
leaving  the  background  white.  Cross- 
stitch  was  often  combined  with  stroke 
stitch  and  straight  stitch  or  point  Lance, 
to  give  ease  and  variety  of  effect.  Pat- 
terns really  ornamental  were  beautifully 
set  forth  in  these  simple  stitches.  Time 
and  patience  being  so  much  rarer  things 
now  than  in  Leonardo's  day  one  would 
scarcely  attempt  to  work  the  pattern  here 
given  upon  the  fine  linen,  and  in  the 
minute  stitches  that  "Mona  Lisa,"  for  in- 
stance, would  have  employed  ;  but  with  a 
reasonable  expenditure  of  thought,  leisure 
and  good  material,  one  may  produce  some- 
thing so  akin  to  those  lovely  bits  of  Re- 
naissance handiwork  that  it  will  prove  real 
adornment  for  the  home. 

Three  stitches  are  used  in  the  worked 
part  of  the  design  reproduced :  double 
Italian  cross-stitch,  being  the  same  on 
both  sides ;  straight  stitch,  mucli  used  in 
old  work,  and  stroke  stitch,  as  old  as  the 
first  needle.  If  it  is  to  be  embroidered 
upon  linen,  the  pattern  must  be  trans- 
ferred just  as   it   appears   in   the   accom- 

353 


NEEDLEWORK  DESIGNS   FROM   OLD   PAINTINGS 


WORKING  DESIGN  FOR  LINEN   EMBROIDERY  ORIGINATING  IN  THE  ITALIAN  RENAISSANCE. 


panying  working  design — squares  and  all ; 
if  upon  a  canvas,  one  must  proceed  by 
counting  threads,  as  in  ordinary  cross- 
stitch  work. 

Double  Italian  cross-stitch,  a  cross, 
framed  on  three  sides  by  straight  stitches, 
and  exactly  alike  on  both  sides  of  the 
material,  at  first  glance  seems  difficult,  but 
it  is  quite  the  contrary  in  reality.  To 
learn  it,  mark  off  six  squares  of  any  size 
in  a  line  upon  your  linen,  and  with  a 
threaded  needle  in  hand,  follow  these 
directions:  Insert  your  needle  in  the 
upper  right-hand  corner  of  the  first  square, 
and  run  it  in  and  out  of  the  material  in 
a  slanting  direction,  bringing  it  out  exact- 


ly in  the  point  of  the  lower  left-hand  cor- 
ner; draw  the  silk  through  carefully  until 
the  unknotted  end  is  just  even  with  the 
ground, — this  takes  the  place  of  a  knot 
and  is  subsequently  covered  in  the  work- 
ing. Now  you  are  ready  to  begin  the 
stitch.  First  insert  your  needle  exactly 
in  the  upper  right-hand  corner  of  the  first 
square,  and  bring  it  out  at  the  lower  left- 
hand  comer,  from  the  same  hole  through 
which  the  silk  first  passed ;  a  slanting 
stitch  results,  which  hides  the  running 
stitches.  Next  insert  your  needle  exactly 
in  the  upper  left-hand  corner  and  bring  it 
out  exactly  in  the  lower  right-hand  corner. 
A  straight  stitch  results,  which  frames  the 


354 


NEEDLEWORK   DESIGNS  FROM  OLD  PAINTINGS 


left  side  of  the  square.  Now  insert  your 
needle  exactly  in  the  lower  left-hand  cor- 
ner of  the  square,  and  bring  it  out  exactly 
in  the  lower  right-hand  corner.  This  pro- 
duces a  straight  stitch  that  frames  the 
bottom  of  the  square.  Repeat  now  these 
three  stitches  in  their  proper  order  until 
the  end  of  the  row  of  squares  is  reached. 
Then  you  complete  the  work  by  a  return 
journey,  as  follows:  your  silk  being  now 
in  the  lower  right-hand  comer  of  the  last 
square,  insert  your  needle  exactly  in  the 
upper  right-hand  corner,  and  bring  it  out 


agam    m 


the    lower    right-hand    comer 


through  the  same  hole  the  silk  is  already 
in.  This  makes  a  straight  stitch  on  the 
right  and  wrong  sides  which  frames  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  square.  Lastly  in- 
sert the  needle  in  the  upper  left-hand  cor- 
ner and  bring  it  out  in  the  lower  left- 
hand  comer — from  which  point  in  each 
square  you  started;  this  completes  the 
cross  and  produces  the  third  straight 
stitch  on  the  wrong  side.  Continue  this 
until  the  entire  row  of  crosses  is  completed. 
When  once  understood  this  stitch  works 
up  very  quickly  and  is  much  more  effec- 
tive than  the  ordinary  variety  of  cross- 
stitch.    A  strand  silk  should  be  used. 

To  adapt  it  to  a  design,  the  accompany- 
ing one  for  instance,  requires  a  little  plan- 
ning so  that  the  thread  may  be  carried 
from  one  row  to  another  as  continuously 
as  possible,  but  otherwise  the  only  thing  to 
remember  is  that  the  upper  row  will  al- 
wavs  be  open  at  the  top.  The  missing 
stitch,  if  desired,  may  be  put  in  during  the 
first  return  journey,  or  stroke  stitch  may 
be  used.  This  kind  of  work  is  best  done 
in  the  hand.  For  purposes  of  reproduc- 
tion the  example  here  given  is  shown 
mounted  in  a  frame.  If  the  work  is  held 
vertically,  so  to  speak,  and  worked  toward 


one  it  will  go  much  more  easily.  For  the 
solid  parts  of  the  design,  straight  stitch  is 
best ;  that  is,  ordinary  "over  and  over" 
stitches  taken  through  the  material  and 
laid  vertically  close  together.  All  the  small 
parts  of  the  design  which  cannot  be  done 
in  the  cross-stitch,  and  the  straight  lines  of 
the  border,  are  worked  with  stroke 
stitch, — that  is,  ordinary  stitches  adapted 
in  length  to  the  space  to  be  covered  and 
worked  a  stroke  at  a  time.  By  using  this 
stitch  in  two  journeys,  one  of  which  covers 
the  open  spaces  left  by  the  other,  a  con- 
tinuous line  on  both  sides  of  the  material 
results. 

This  "Leonardo"  pattern,  worked  thus 
in  double  Italian  cross-stitch,  straight 
stitch  and  stroke  stitch,  will  with  care 
look  the  same  on  both  sides ;  an  important 
consideration  in  the  omamenting  of  cur- 
tains and  other  articles  of  which  both 
sides  are  likely  to  be  seen.  To  accomplish 
this  three  things  must  be  observed:  no 
knots  can  be  used  (a  good  needleworker 
almost  never  uses  them),  long  lengths  of 
silk  are  expedient,  and  neat  finishing 
ofT  of  threads  is  compulsory. 

The  value  of  this  sort  of  embroidery  is 
not  merely  in  furnishing  an  opportunity 
for  new  designs  to  the  intelligent  needle- 
woman ;  it  is  much  more,  for  it  awakens 
also  an  interest  in  the  history  and  art  of 
Italian  Renaissance,  a  period  full  of  in- 
spiration and  achieved  beauty.  It  has 
seemed  wise  to  publish  with  the  design 
the  painting  from  which  it  was  taken,  that 
the  full  charm  of  its  original  use  might  be 
realized.  Also  you  will  find  on  page  352 
a  reproduction  of  actual  embroidery,  which 
has  been  most  carefully  copied  in  detail 
from  da  Vinci's  painting  and  mounted  in 
a  practical  fashion. 


355 


A  GROWING  APPRECIATION  IN  AMERICA  OF 
THE  GROTESQUE  IN  ART:  ILLUSTRATED  BY 
SOME  UNUSUAL  HANDICRAFT  WORK  IN 
BRONZE 


THE  overflow  of  an  artist's  imagina- 
tion often  finds  outlets  as  interest- 
ing in  tlieir  way  as  the  steady 
channel  of  his  more  serious  work. 
For  this  reason  we  are  pubhshing  a  few 
grotesques  and  fancies  in  bronze,  the  work 
of  Louis  Potter,  whose  attainment  in 
sculpture  is  already  the  subject  of  an 
article  in  this  issue.  A  grotesque  is  a 
form  of  humor  in  art.  It  is  based  upon 
exaggeration  both  of  line  and  expression 
in  either  a  human  being  or  an  animal; 
thus  it  furnishes  all  the  amusement  foimd 
in  the  uncouth  and  extravagant.  Any 
funny  face  has  the  obvious  humor  which 
appeals  both  to  children  and  to  grown 
people,  but  a  grotesque  conveys  at  the 
same  time  an  idea  of  understanding  and 
appreciation  of  its  own  grotesqueness,  and 
this  canniness  of  expression  is  an  essential 
charm.  One  would  think  that  this  jihase 
of  art  would  appeal  keenly  to  the  humor- 
loving  American.  But  until  lately  we  have 
taken  sculpture,  along  with  music  and 
painting,  so  seriously  that  the  humorous 
aspects  of  art  have  been  left  mainly  to  the 
actor  and  the  author.  Recently,  however, 
several  little  grotesques  have  taken  the 
country  by  storm,  and  the  widespread  en- 
joyment of  them  is  an  encouraging  sign  of 
the  growth  of  our  appreciation  of  thi> 
phase  of  plastic  art. 

It  shows  that  we  are  becoming  generally 
aware  that  sculpture  and  modeling  are  not 
a  vague  aesthetic  occupation  belonging  to 
Europeans  and  denatured  denizens  of  the 
United  States,  but  something  really  of  our- 
selves— American :  American  enough  to 
deal  with  vital  emotions  and  real  feelings, 
even  as  real  and  American  as  humor.  It 
shows,  too,  that  we  are  gradually  rising 
above  the  taste  for  sculpture,  so  called, 
that  "tells  a  story" ;  a  taste  which  made 
the  Rogers  groups  so  popular  in  our 
homes.      In    these   we   had    whole    scenes 

356 


from  the  drama  of  domestic  life  enacted 
in  terra  cotta. 

These  did  not  represent  the  art  of  sculp- 
ture; they  were  permanent  pantomimes. 
They  told  as  much  as  a  little  play,  and 
they  were  wrong,  because  th.ey  made  situ- 
ations permanent  that  were  in  their  nature 
fleeting  and  brief.  The  lasting  quality  of 
bronze  and  marble,  of  their  substitutes, 
fits  them  only  for  the  expression  of  some- 
thing that  will  be  as  true  a  thousand  years 
hence  as  today ;  which  requires  no  read- 
ing in  of  personal  experience  or  custom  to 
make  its  meaning  clear.  Experience  and 
custom  change,  but  the  fundamental  emo- 
tions, states  of  mind  and  qualities  of  soul 
are  factors  in  the  life  of  the  spirit  as 
changeless  and  varying  as  the  facts  of 
rest  and  motion  on  the  physical  side  of 
existence,  and  it  is  these  changeless  mean- 
ings only  that  should  be  made  permanent 
to  the  sight  and  touch. 

A  true  grotesque,  like  any  form  of  true 
art,  exists  complete  in  itself,  although  it 
has  always  a  decorative  value  because  of 
the  heaviness  of  shadow  and  strength  of 
line  that  are  necessary  to  make  it  what  it 
is.  The  old  builders  used  its  ugliness  and 
distortion  to  supply  the  element  of  con- 
trast and  emphasize  the  beautiful  propor- 
tion of  the  surrounding  decoration.  They 
are  the  humor  in  sculpture ;  they  relieve 
its  serious  uplift.  We  come  upon  them, 
with  pleasure,  grinning  out  of  some  cor- 
ner, and  they  seem  especially  in  their  ele- 
ment on  door  knockers  in  the  character 
of  a  guardian  to  the  household:  a  sort  of 
domesticatcil  fiend. 

The  first  illustration,  shown  on  page 
358.  the  cross-eved  fellow  balancing  a  ball 
on  his  great  tongue,  has  particularly  this 
indulgent,  domestic  outlook.  As  we  lift 
the  handle  of  the  knocker  and  let  it  bang 
down  against  the  ends  of  his  Dundreary 
whiskers,  his  obliquely  set  eyes  twinkle 
confidentiallv  at  us  and  if  he  had  a  finger 


TWO  DECORATIVE  DOOR  KNOCKERS  :  THE  ANUIKONS  KEl'RESENI 
THE    SPIRIT   OF    flame:    LOUIS    POTTER,    CRAFTSMAN. 


A  i;R(I111'  l)l'  liRONZE  liOOU  KNOCKKUS,  SHUSVINi; 
AN  INTKUKSTING  APPRECIATION  OF  THE  POSSIBIL- 
ITIES OK  THE  (.KUIESCJUE  IN  INLHSTUIAI.  ART: 
LOUIS    I'OTTEK,    CKAFTSMAN. 


THE   GROTESQUE   IN   ART 


he  would  lay  it  against  the  side  of  his 
funny  nose.  He  knows  that  it's  foolish 
to  balance  a  ball  on  the  end  of  his  tongue; 
but  it  pleases  the  people  who  come  to  the 
house  and  he  likes  to  see  us  laugh.  It  is 
the  suggestion  of  consciousness  about  its 
own  appearance  that  gives  this  type  of 
grotesque  its  particular  charm. 

Another  of  the  group  on  this  page,  an 
exaggeration  of  the  popular  idea  of  the 
devil's  face,  depends  upon  this  same  self- 
consciousness  which  can  best  be  expressed 
by  saying  that  he  looks  as  if  he  wanted  to 
scare  us.  He  is  too  broadly  diabolical  to 
be  able  really  to  live  up  to  it;  nothing 
could  be  as  malicious  as  he  looks.  The 
lower  part  of  the  face,  although  cleverly 
exaggerated,  is  not  so  funny  in  itself;  it 
is  only  when  we  reach  the  concentrated 
energy  of  the  eyes  bulging  out  frorn  their 
vast  sockets,  making  effort  to  petrify  us, 
that  the  face  fascinates  and  amuses  us. 
The  detail  in  this  is  very  carefully  worked 
out ;  the  adaptation  of  the  nose  illustrates 
especially  well  the  principle  underlying  the 
making  of  grotesques. 

A  third  bronze  on  this  page  represents  a 
different  type.  Here  the  fascination  re- 
sults from  the  mixture  of  human  and  ani- 
mal in  the  features.  The  cheeks,  nose  and 
whiskers  form  the  handle  of  the  knocker, 
and  the  pursed  up  fish  mouth  gives  a  hold 
to  lift  it  by.  The  wart  on  either  side  of 
the  nose  is' a  great  addition  to  its  ugliness 
and  the  one  between  the  eyes  emphasizes 
the  stupidity  of  the  wrinkled  forehead.  It 
is  the  infinitely  old  face  of  a  changeling. 
The  last  of  the  grotesque  knockers  has  a 
strong  feline  cast  to  the  general  shape  of 
the  face  which  is  worked  out  also  in  the 
features.  The  eyebrows  are  carried  up  to 
suggest  ears,  round  like  a  cat's  ;  the  bridge 
of  the  nose  is  lowered  and  broadened  ;  the 
upper  lip  is  unnaturally  shortened  and  the 
depression  in  the  center  is  made  unusually 


deep;  the  full  part  of  the  cheeks  is  placed 
a  little  lower  than  in  the  human  face. 
There  is  no  feature  actually  belonging  to  a 
cat,  but  still  no  feature  that  dc.  admit 

of  that  interpretation.  The  ey.;s  are 
rounded  more  than  human  eyes  are  anil 
the  handle  falls  on  a  pendulous  tongue,  at 
once  animal  and  human.  It  is  an  interest- 
ing reading  of  the  one  into  the  other. 

The  knockers  shown  on  pag(  357  are 
purely  decorative.  The  woman's  head  is 
suggestively  rather  than  definitely  modeled. 
The  face  looks  out  uncertainly  but  sweetly 
from  between  the  braids  of  hair  that  form 
the  handle,  and  seems  on  the  point  of 
withdrawing  into  the  metal  from  which 
the  sculptor  has  beckoned  it  forth.  The 
flowing,  indistinct  lines  in  the  Ironze  would 
blend  admirably  into  the  grain  of  a  dark 
oaken  door.  The  two  "merbabies"  play- 
ing in  the  hollow  of  a  wave  are  the  most 
delicately  handled  of  all  these  bronzes. 
The  pose  and  subject  are  perfectly  adapted 
to  the  use  to  which  they  are  put.  yet  lose 
nothing  of  the  chubbiness  of  limb  and  baby 
form  and  spirit.  They  are  unmistakably 
tiny  sea  creatures  ready  to  flop  their  little 
tails  at  a  second's  notice  and  wriggle  deep 
down  below  the  waves.  It  is  as  well  exe- 
cuted and  graceful  as  any  in  the  group. 

Of  a  variety  of  designs  for  andirons  all 
equally  related  in  subject  to  their  purpose, 
these  have  been  selected  for  reproduction 
because  of  the  flame-like  contour  of  _  the 
figures  which  causes  them  to  assimilate 
easily  with  their  background  of  fire.  The 
bodies  rise  so  lightly  from  the  standards 
that  in  the  uncertain  firelight  they  might 
almost  seem  to  flicker  upward  with  the 
flames  and  one  would  hardly  be  conscious 
of  them  save  as  shadows  in  the  fire.  As  a 
whole,  it  is  most  interesting  and  decorative 
work  that  Mr.  Totter  gives  us  in  his  spare 
moments. 


359 


CONSTRUCTION  AND  DESIGN  IN  WOOD  CARV- 
ING: BY  KARL  VON  RYDINGSVARD 

THOSE  who  have  not  made  a  study 
of  designing  have  great  difficulty, 
as  a  rule,  in  finding  suitable  dec- 
orations for  wood  carving,  and 
home  workers  are  frequently  at  a  loss  to 
know  how  an  article  intended  for  orna- 
mentation in  this  manner  should  be  con- 
structed. An  article  published  in  The 
Craftsman  of  July,  1908,  describes  the 
necessary  outfit  for  beginners'  work,  and 
I  purpose  to  give  here  some  suggestions 
which  may  be  of  assistance  to  those  who 
are  working  without  instruction. 

The  construction  of  any  article  which 
is  to  be  decorated  with  carving  should  be 
kept  as  simple  as  possible,  omitting  all 
fancy  moldings,  elaborate  contours,  panel- 
ings,  etc.  Whenever  it  is  possible,  glue 
joints  should  be  avoided,  as  in  our  over- 
heated houses  they  are  very  likely  to  open 
unless  protected  from  changes  of  tem- 
perature by  a  heavy  coat  of  varnish, 
which  is  not  a  suitable  finish  for  wood 
carving. 

Mahogany  boards  can  be  easily  obtained 
as  wide  as  36  inches,  and  quartered  oak 
boards  12  and  15  inches  wide  may  also 
sometimes  be  found.  If,  however,  the 
joint  is  necessary,  German  cabinet- 
maker's glue,  very  hot,  must  be  used,  as 
the  ordinary  fish  glue  is  not  strong  enough 
for  this  purpose.  Anything  which  is  con- 
structed of  wood  can  be  decorated  with 
carving,  if  it  is  of  such  a  nature  that 
doing  so  adds  to  its  beauty  and  does  not 
impair  its  usefulness.  Photographs  of 
museum  pieces  may  be  bought  in  many 
places  and  these,  as  well  as  the  fine  re- 
productions given  in  magazines,  furnish 
great  assistance  in  obtaining  designs. 
When  they  are  clear  enough  to  show  the 
details,  working  drawings  may  be  made 
from  them,  as  described  further  on. 

The  magazine  stand  given  here  is  a 
useful  and  attractive  piece  of  furniture, 
simple  in  construction  and  decoration  but 
very  effective.  The  ornament,  in  the 
Scandinavian  style,  requires  very  little 
modeling,  the  figures  being  characteristic- 
ally crude,  which  renders  this  style  par- 

360 


ticularly  suitable  for  beginners.  Oak  is 
more  appropriate  for  this  work  than 
mahogany,  which  requires  a  smooth,  well 
rubbed  finish  and  much  attention  to  de- 
tail in  order  to  bring  out  its  beauty. 

A  full-sized  working  drawing  on  heavy 
paper  must  first  be  made  from  the  small 
drawing  here  given,  which  is  scaled  at 
}i  of  an  inch  per  foot.  The  stock  for  the 
sides  should  be  quite  heavy,  at  least  an 
inch  and  a  half  thick,  but  for  the  shelves 
and  braces  the  ordinary  %  stock  can 
be  used.  The  cabinet  work  will  pre- 
sent no  difficulties  to  anyone  who  is 
accustomed  to  handling  tools.  The  shelves 
can  be  made  as  long  as  desired,  as 
the  ends  are  heavy  enough  to  support 
a  greater  length  than  is  given  here,  al- 
though a  brace  might  be  required  in  the 
center  if  they  were  lengthened  more  than 
three  feet.  The  ends  of  the  shelves  are 
set  into  the  side  pieces  half  an  inch,  and 
the  tenons  and  pegs  of  the  top  and  bot- 
tom shelves  hold  the  stand  together  so 
that  it  is  not  necessary  to  glue  it,  which 
is  an  advantage  if  one  is  obliged  to  move 
frequently. 

The  photograph  of  one  side  gives  the 
detail  of  the  ornament.  The  strap  work 
is  easily  laid  out  with  the  aid  of  a  rule 
and  compass.  The  center  panel,  if  one 
is  not  proficient  in  free-hand  drawing, 
must  be  enlarged  by  squaring.  Take  a 
fine  pen  and  divide  the  panel  with  a 
horizontal  and  a  vertical  line,  exactly  in 
the  middle ;  then  subdivide  the  quarters 
in  the  same  way.  For  a  design  with 
so  little  detail  probably  the  4  squares 
each  way  will  be  sufficient.  In  a  draw- 
ing where  more  squares  are  required  they 
are  usually  numbered  down  one  side  and 
across  the  bottom.  The  full-sized  panel 
is  then  laid  out  on  paper,  dividing  it  into 
an  equal  number  of  squares  which  are 
marked  correspondingly.  Anyone  who 
can  draw  at  all  will  be  able,  with  this  as- 
sistance, to  locate  the  lines  and  reproduce 
the  design  in  the  required  size. 

The  interlaced  design  at  the  top  and 
bottom  may  be  cut  a  quarter  of  an  inch 


k:- 


'..J  .      iN     j\    V. 


^^1^ 


CHAIR  BACK   I.\    VIKING    STYLE:    CARVED 
BY     KARL    VOX     RVDTN-(-;t;VAKn 


CHEST   WITH   SCANDINAVIAN   ORNAMENT:    CARVED 
rV    nFI.KN    Tt'NF. 


-iiir-ii 


/ 


'  '^- 


Lib  Ui-     AKIIl.M.    1)1. nU,    U  1.1. A. Mile    jliLl,.    l-Ak'.Lu 
BY   KARL  VON    HyDINCSVARD. 


SHOUINO    llESION    U.N     rllK    HAl  K    ()!■    J.AMF. 
SETTLE. 


SIHE  iiF  A  MACAZI.NE  STAXH;  INSTRUCTION 
KiK  THE  MAKING  AND  CARVIXr,  OF  WHICH 
IS  Fl'RNISIIEIl  1\  THE  ACCOM  FA  N  VI  Nl., 
ARIICLE  liV    KARI.  VON   RVUINUSVARU. 


CONSTRUCTION   AND   DESIGN   IN   WOOD   CARVING 


/n^--:.-  igi:\ 


^■-•---^. 


deep.  The  strap  work  is 
rounded  slightly  on  the 
edges,  after  being  cut  down 
at  all  of  the  interlacings, 
and  when  this  is  done  a 
large  veining  tool  is  used 
to  make  the  parallel  lines, 
which  continue  along  the 
edges  as  moldings.  It  will 
be  found  impossible  to 
make  these  lines  even,  espe- 
cially where  they  run  with 
the  grain  of  the  wood,  but 
those  who  appreciate  the 
work  of  the  hand  will  not 
object  to  this  slight  irreg^i- 
larity. 

The  large  panel,  being  bold  in  design, 
will  stand  a  depth  of  half  an  inch  and 
should  be  somewhat  undercut  on  the 
lower  outlines,  the  shadows  thus  pro- 
duced adding  much  to  the  effectiveness 
of  the  design.  When  the  background  has 
been  removed,  the  general  contour  of  the 
figures  and  scrolls  must  Le  obtained  and 
after  this  is  done  the  details  are  drawn 
in  and  the  finishing  touches  given.  For 
this  part  of  the  work  use  first  the  large 
veining  tool,  modeling  the  details  after- 
ward with  the  flat  gouges,  which  will  be 
used  mostly  with  the  concave  side  down- 
ward. The  upper  ornament  can  be  re- 
peated on  the  inside  and  the  top  shelf 
used  for  bric-a-brac,  if  desired.  The 
molding  should  also  run  down  the  edges 
of  the  side  pieces  and  across  the  lower 
edges  of  the  braces.  The  sharp  edges  on 
the  moldings  may  be  removed  by  rubbing 
them  down  with  a  piece  of  shark  skin, 
which  can  be  purchased  at  hardware 
stores  and  is  much  superior  to  sandpaper 
for  this  purpose,  but  neither  should  be 
used  on  other  parts  of  the  carving,  as 
such  treatment  destroys  the  crispness  of 
the  work. 

It  is  better  to  stain  any  article  which 
is  decorated  in  the  antique  style,  as  the 
color  of  the  new  wood  is  not  in  keeping 
with  the  work,  and  it  takes  a  long  time 
for  it  to  darken  naturally.     This  can  be 


i 


> 


WORKING   DRAWING  FOR  CAKVED   MAGAZINE  STAND,  ILLUSTRATION  OF 
WHICH   is    GU-EN   ON    OPPOSITE    PAGE.       SCALE    5^    OF    AN    INCH. 


done  by  fuming  it  with  ammonia  or  by 
using  any  of  the  various  wood  stains  now 
on  the  market.  The  weathered  oak 
shades  are  used  at  present  rather  more 
than  the  darker  tones,  but  either  method 
of  treatment  should  be  followed  by  the 
use  of  a  good  wax  polish.  There  are  sev- 
eral preparations  of  liquid  wax  which  are 
better  to  use  on  wood  carvings  than  the 
hard  wax  which  clogs  the  comers  when 
it  cools  and  is  extremely  difficult  to  re- 
move. It  should  be  well  rubbed  in  with 
a  stiflE  brush  and  allowed  to  dry,  after 
which  it  may  be  slightly  polished  with  a 
soft  cloth. 

Wood  carving  is  one  of  the  pleasantest 
of  the  arts,  because  in  it  the  work  of  the 
brain  and  imagination  are  balanced  by 
effort  of  a  purely  manual  nature.  Dex- 
terity gives  a  pleasure  all  its  own,  and  at 
no  time  is  this  so  keenly  felt  as  when  it 
contributes  to  the  making  of  a  beautiful 
thing.  Then  again,  there  is  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  the  work  take  tangible  form 
before  the  eyes,  and  there  is  also  the  whole- 
some smell  of  the  wood  with  which  we 
work,  that  seems  to  bring  us,  in  our 
studios,  in  touch  with  the  out  of  doors. 
Carving  is  one  of  the  most  primitive  of 
the  arts — witness  the  little  boy  with  his 
first  jack  knife,  how  he  whittles — and 
from  this  reminiscence  of  early  joy  per- 
haps carving  gains  one  of  its  chief  joys. 


363 


WHAT  IT  WOULD  MEAN  TO  THE  NATION 
IF  CITY  FOLK  AND  FARMERS  WOULD  TAKE 
THE  TROUBLE  TO  PLANT  TREES 

WE  intend  to  publish  in  the  July 
issue  of  The  Craftsman  an 
article  by  Mr.  Charles  R.  Lamb 
to  which  we  wish  to  draw  special 
attention  as  dealing  with  a  subject  of  the 
first  importance  to  us  as  a  nation,  for  it 
proposes  nothing  less  than  the  cooperation 
of  all  the  people  in  the  work  of  the  For- 
estry Department  at  Washington,  by  en- 
listing in  the  cause  of  tree  planting  the  aid 
of  all  citizens  who  are  interested  in  the 
work  of  reforesting  the  lan<l. 

Because  he  believes  so  sincerely  in  the 
necessity  of  this  work,  Mr.  Lamb  has 
added  to  his  many  other  duties  and  in- 
terests the  work  of  Secretary  to  The  Tree 
Planting  Association  of  New  York,  an 
organization  which  is  doing  its  utmost  to 
further  the  project  of  ]ilanting  trees  in 
every  available  place ;  not  only  bordering 
streets,  country  roads  and  highways  of  all 
descriptions  with  double  lines  of  trees,  but 
extending  the  planting  of  these  even  to  the 
right  of  way  along  either  side  of  railroads 
and  canals.  The  Association  urges  fur- 
thermore that  all  spare  bits  of  land  owned 
by  farmers  or  dwellers  in  the  cotmtry  or 
suburbs  could  be  turned  to  good  use  and 
profit  if  planted  with  trees,  and  that  the 
beauty  of  our  cities  and  towns  could  be 
immeasurably  increased  if  the  citizens 
would  see  to  it  that  every  available  space 
was  used  for  trees. 

The  Association  advoi.'ates  a  general 
study  of  forestry  on  the  same  simple  prac- 
tical basis  as  the  study  of  fruit,  vegetable, 

364 


or  grain  culture,  not  only  because  wood 
lots  containing  trees  available  for  use  form 
a  considerable  addition  to  the  owner's  in- 
come, but  because  the  study  of  tree  cul- 
ture and  the  interest  that  naturally  arises 
from  it  is  a  branch  of  education,  should 
be  cultivated  for  the  mental  and  moral 
development  it  affords  to  our  children,  no 
less  than  for  the  good  its  results  would  do 
to  the  country  and  to  future  generations. 
Owing  to  the  energetic  campaign  under- 
taken for  the  preservation  of  our  natural 
resources,  definite  measures  have  been 
taken  to  arrest  the  destruction  of  our 
forests  and  also  to  reforest  the  great 
national  parks.  But  this  is  only  a  part 
of  the  work,  and  unless  private  citizens 
are  willing  to  take  sufficient  interest  to 
see  that  their  own  property  and  the  streets 
and  vacant  lots  of  the  towns  and  villages 
are  planted  to  trees,  we  shall  still  incur 
the  reproach  of  being  a  careless  and  waste- 
ful people,  indifferent  alike  to  the  beauty 
and  the  value  of  our  resources.  That  the 
interest  found  in  the  planting  and  culti- 
vation of  trees  has  something  in  it  akin 
to  human  interest  is  sufficiently  demon- 
strated every  time  it  is  taken  up.  The 
fact  that  few  people  are  aware  of  it  is 
due  more  to  carelessness  than  to  any 
definite  feeling  that  tree  planting  is  not 
worth  while.  The  celebration  of  Arbor 
Day  in  so  many  of  our  colleges  and  schools 
and  the  pride  taken  by  each  class  in  its 
tree  should  teach  us  a  lesson  as  to  the 
possibility  of  extending  Arbor  Day  into  a 


IF  CITY  FOLK  AND   FARMERS  WOULD  PLANT  TREES 


celebration  that  would  be  genuinely  worth 
while,  for  whole  groves  and  avenues 
might  easily  be  the  special  pride  and  care 
of  school  children  who  would  make  plant- 
ing day  one  of  the  yearly  festivals  and 
further  observation  and  care  of  the  trees 
the  occasion  for  many  a  delightful  excur- 
sion. Even  city  children  could  contribute 
to  the  general  good,  for  their  delight  in 
botany  and  nature  study  of  all  kinds  would 
naturally  extend  to  arboriculture,  if  they 
were  given  the  chance  and  could  obtain 
permission  to  beautify  yards,  vacant  lots 
and  even  streets  whenever  an  opportunity 
presented  itself. 

And  think  what  a  difference  it  would 
make  if  only  the  farmer  realized  his  oppor- 
tunities in  this  direction !  He  need  not 
sacrifice  one  foot  of  land  available  for 
fruit,  grain  or  vegetable  culture,  or  for 
pasture;  but  if  he  would  see  that  his  roads 
and  lanes  were  bordered  with  trees,  that 
trees  were  planted  about  the  house  and 
that  the  acres  set  apart  for  a  wood  lot 
v.ere  kept  in  a  thoroughly  good  condition, 
it  would  not  only  add  much  to  the  beauty 
of  his  place  and  increase  its  market  value, 
but  would  furnish  him  with  an  important 
addition  to  his  yearly  income.  If  small 
groves  and  w-ood  lots  were  planted  all  over 
the  country  and,  after  the  trees  had 
attained  their  growth,  the  practice  were 
made  each  year  of  cutting  down  those  fit 
for  use  and  bringing  up  others  in  their 
place,  plenty  of  wood  might  be  obtained 
for  all  ordinary  use  without  making  any 
appreciable  difference  in  the  growth.  It 
is  simply  practicing,  on  a  small  scale,  the 
policy  that  is  recommended  by  the  For- 
estry Department, — that  of  cutting  down 
only  selected  trees  instead  of  destroying 
whole  forests  and  leaving  the  "slash"'  to 
choke  the  new  growth  and  to  invite  forest 
fires. 

Of  course  this  method  of  obtaining  what 
would  practically  be  an  inexhaustible 
supply  of  lumber  would  be  scoffed  at  by 
the  proprietors  of  the  huge  sawmills  which 
devour  our  forests  almost  as  rapidly  as  do 
the  forest  fires.  But  the  methods  pursued 
by  these  sawmills  have  been  so  wantonly 


destructive  and  wasteful  that  they  have 
destroyed  almost  as  much  as  ihcy  have 
used  and  have  left  no  chance  for  future 
growth.  But  there  are  always  the  forests 
for  the  large  sawmills  and  it  is  to  be 
hoped  that  in  future  they  will  be  compelled 
by  the  Government  to  use  without  de- 
stroying. The  plan  we  recommend  does 
not  take  the  large  sawmill  into  considera- 
tion at  all,  but  rather  the  small  sawmill 
belonging  to  the  town  or  village,  which 
could  work  up  what  lumber  was  needed 
for  local  building,  cabinetmaking  and 
other  purposes  from  the  trees  culled  each 
year  from  the  wood  lots  all  around. 

And  still  another  point  of  view  shows 
the  possibility  of  even  closer  personal  in- 
terest, because,  if  the  time  ever  comes 
when  handicrafts  are  pursued  on  the  farm, 
the  choosing  and  cutting  of  certain  trees 
for  certain  well-defined  purposes  would 
bring  back  to  our  lives  something  of  the 
kinship  with  nature  that  was  felt  in  other 
days,  when  a  man  could  point  to  a  sturdy, 
well-made  table,  a  chair,  or  a  chest  of 
drawers  and  speak  proudly  of  the  excel- 
lence of  the  tree  from  which  it  was  made. 
To  this  man  and  his  family,  the  tree  had 
its  own  individuality  and  its  own  story, 
and  in  some  measure  its  life  entered  into 
the  piece  of  furniture  which  was  made 
from  it,  or  the  building  to  which  it  con- 
tributed its  wood.  The  feeling  we  mean 
is  precisely  the  same  as  that  which,  in 
earlier  days  when  man  lived  closer  to 
nature,  led  to  so  many  delightful  stories 
and  legends  which  connected  the  life  of  a 
ship,  for  example,  with  the  life  of  the  oak 
from  which  it  was  built. 

Naturally,  our  own  interest  in  the  sub- 
ject comes'largely  from  our  feeling  about 
wood  as  well  as  our  appreciation  of  the 
charm  to  be  found  in  the  growing  tree. 
We  hold  that  without  wood  the  life  of  the 
building  art  and  of  many  kinds  of  crafts- 
manship is  gone.  Some  people  of  easy- 
going temperament  and  not  much  imagi- 
nation do  not  consider  the  possible  exhaus- 
tion of  our  wood  supply  to  be  a  serious 
matter.  They  say  that  if  wood  were  ex- 
hausted we  could  use  stone,  brick,  or  con- 

365 


REVIEWS 


Crete  construction  for  our  buildings,  and 
brass,  iron,  or  aluminum  for  furniture. 
This,  of  course,  is  true.  Houses  and  fur- 
niture could  be  built  without  wood;  that 
is,  if  we  could  make  up  our  minds  to  be 
satisfied  with  bare  utility  in  our  home  sur- 
roundings; but  it  would  not  be  long  before 
the  results  of  such  unsympathetic  and 
utilitarian  environment  would  be  shown  in 
our  national  character. 

There  is  something  about  wood  that 
differs  from  any  other  material  under  the 
sun.  Everyone  who  thinks  about  it  at  all, 
or  who  opens  his  mind  to  the  subtle  im- 
pressions which  are  constantly  crowding 
upon  us,  realizes  the  kinship  which  exists 
between  man  and  the  trees.  When  they 
give  us  their  wood  for  our  use,  something 
of  the  sense  of  peace  and  friendliness 
which  belongs  to  them  seems  to  cling  to 
everything  that  we  make.  There  is  no 
stronger  evidence  of  our  commercial  spirit 
and  the  artificiality  of  our  minds  and  lives 
than  is  shown  by  the  way  we  too  often 
treat  wood ;  covering  it  with  paint,  enamel, 
or  varnish,  so  that  its  own  character  is 
completely  concealed  or  destroyed.  But 
when  we  leave  it  alone  and  let  it  show  for 
what  it  is,  the  presence  of  wood  in  our 
home  surroundings  gives  to  them  a  quality 
of  rest  fulness,  permanence  and  unob- 
trusive friendliness  that  nothing  else  can 
supply. 

\\'hen  we  grow  older  as  a  people  we 
shall  understand  this  better  and  in  time 
we  may  even  come  to  have  the  feeling  for 
trees  and  wood  that  has  been  the  strongest 
element  in  the  artistic  development  of  the 
Japanese.  Not  only  do  they  treat  a  beau- 
tiful piece  of  wood  with  as  much  respect 
as  they  would  show  to  a  jewel,  but 
throughout  their  whole  national  life,  from 
the  Emperor  down  to  the  poorest  peasant, 
they  wellnigh  worship  the  growing  tree. 
Their  love  is  so  great  that  they  can  even 
play  with  it  and  they  understand  it  so  well 
that  they  can  make  it  do  whatever  they 
will.  That  person  who  could  look  upon 
the  Japanese  dwarfed  cedars  and  pines 
without  a  sense  of  affection  for  their  tiny 
dignity  and   strong  individuality  must  be 

366 


dense  indeed.  They  are  such  big  little 
trees  and  someone  has  taken  such  care  to 
bring  them  within  reach  of  the  familiar 
things  of  human  life.  To  most  Western 
minds  they  are  merely  curiosities,  but  they 
mean  something  far  different  to  the  Jap- 
anese, and  some  day,  when  we  are  many 
centuries  older,  it  may  be  that  we  will 
realize  the  feeling  that  now  we  can  only 
guess  at.  And  this  feeling  is  shown  just 
as  strongly  in  the  Japanese  use  of  wood  as 
it  is  in  the  care  and  culture  of  trees  in 
Japan. 

In  one  way  it  may  seem  a  far  cry  from 
the  work  of  The  Tree  Planting  Associa- 
tion of  New  York  to  the  Japanese  use  of 
wood ;  and  yet  it  is  all  one,  for  when  we 
learn  to  have  the  right  feeling  about  the 
wood  we  use  in  building  and  furnishing 
our  homes  we  will  inevitably  grow  into 
the  right  feeling  about  trees,  and  the  child 
who  is  brought  up  to  understand  the  nature 
of  a  tree  will  appreciate  the  beauty  and 
friendliness  of  wood.  Approach  this  work 
through  either  channel  and  it  makes  no 
difference,  but  every  effort  that  is  made  to 
rouse  an  interest  in  trees  is  so  much  gained 
toward  a  wider  appreciation  of  beauty,  a 
sensitiveness  to  our  human  relation  with 
nature  and  our  consequent  mental  and 
ethical  development  as  a  people. 

REVIEWS 


I 


NDL-V:   Its   Life  and  Thought,"  by 
the  Rev.  John  P.  Jones,  D.D.,  is  a 
broad,  fair-minded  treatment  of  the 
conditions     of     life     and     religious 
thought  in  India,  and  of  absorbing  interest 
to  the  layman  as  well  a^  the  initiated  work- 
er for  the  Christian  faith. 

The  book  opens  with  a  reference  to  the 
restlessness  everywhere  prevalent  in  the 
peninsula.  This,  he  says,  is  not  in  the 
main  of  the  nature  of  disloyalty,  but 
rather  the  growing  realization  that  India — 
one  of  the  oldest  and  proudest  powers  in 
the  world,  is  at  present  the  least  able  to 
govern  itself, — he  quotes  a  prominent  Hindu 
gentleman, — "being  not  equal  to  the  worst 
and  weakest  foreign  power."    Tlie  recent 


REVIEWS 


victory  of  Japan  over  Russia  has  stirred 
the  imagination  of  all  the  Eastern  people ; 
they  are  inclined  to  regard  the  peace  of 
Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  as  a  harbinger  of  a 
new  era  of  liberty  to  the  East.  The  in- 
creasing number  of  native  youths  educated 
along  Western  lines  and  in  England,  where 
they  receive  a  strong  stimulus  toward  in- 
dependence and  self-government,  increases 
the  spirit  of  discontent.  The  liberty  of  the 
press  is  more  nearly  absolute  and  more 
abused  than  in  any  other  countr>' ;  the  Na- 
tional Congress,  a  meeting  of  native  Indi- 
ans, has  been  allowed  to  become  an  instru- 
ment of  power,  and  seditious  speeches  are 
rife  in  the  land.  These  violent  outcries 
come  mostly  from  the  Ishmaels  of  the 
nation.  The  best  class  of  Hindus  is  sen- 
sible of  their  weakness. 

The  caste  system,  which  the  writer 
treats  at  length,  is  an  insuperable  barrier 
to  self-government  in  India.  India  is  not 
public-spirited,  nor  can  it  be,  while  this 
system  prevails.  The  need  of  social  and 
moral  reform  is  at  the  root  of  its  weak- 
ness, and  these,  of  all  reforms,  have  made 
the  least  progress.  The  principles  of 
Christianity  opposed  to  caste  and  cruel  and 
immoral  religions  will  be  the  best  promoter 
of  reform  along  these  lines. 

The  difficulty  met  by  the  missionary  in 
India  is  not  overcoming  opposition  to  the 
new  thoughts,  but  in  molding  the  plastic 
tolerance  of  the'  Indian  mind.  He  sticks 
to  his  old  gods  and  the  old  forms  of  wor- 
ship, absorbing  as  much  as  he  cares  to 
from  the  newer  religion  and  letting  it  go 
its  wav  in  peace.  Christianity,  shorn  of 
ritual,  seems  especially  adapted  to  become 
strong  by  this  process  of  absorption  so 
deadening  to  more  antagonistic  faiths,  be- 
cause of  the  power  Buddhism  already 
holds  in  India.  It  is  a  well-known  fact 
that  Christianity  teaches  much  the  same 
system  of  ethics  as  Buddhism,  but  it  car- 
ries with  it  an  element  of  hope  that  ex- 
tends beyond  death  and  places  a  value  upon 
humanity  and  its  development  that  Budd- 
hism does  not.  and  which  is  calculated  to 
subtly  undermine  Indian  pessimism,  already 
willing  to  accept  the  ethics  of  the  creed. 


The  life  of  Christ  as  an  Oriental,  also  has 
a  natural  attractiveness  to  the  Eastern 
mind.  We  must  not  forget,  is  the  gist  of 
Dr.  Jones's  review  of  the  situation,  that 
we  are  not  dealing  with  a  barbaric  nation, 
but  with  one  whose  intellectual  develop- 
ment covers  a  longer  period  than  our  own. 
The  Christianity  of  India  cannot  be  that 
of  the  West.  It  will  be  essentially  an 
Eastern  Christianity  and  may  be  a  better 
one.  ("India  ;  Its  Life  and  Thought."  By 
John  P.  Jones,  D.D.  448  pages.  Illus- 
trated. Price,  $2.50  net.  Published  by  The 
Macmillan  Company,  New  York.) 

UNTRODDEN  English  Ways"  is  a 
book  that  lives  up  to  its  name,  for 
it  was  written  by  a  true  lover  of  England 
who  knows  all  the  little  ins  and  outs  of 
history  and  legend  and  who  seems  at 
home  in  every  hidden  comer  from  Cape 
Wrath  to  Land's  End, — for  Scotland,  too, 
is  included  in  this  pleasant  journeying 
through  unknown  paths. 

He  takes  the  reader  with  him  from 
place  to  place,  and  then  the  two  poke 
around  historic  places  and  sit  on  the 
walls  and  gossip  about  the  old  stories 
which  make  up  the  memories  of  the  land. 
To  an  American  going  to  England  this 
would  be  one  of  the  most  delightful 
books  to  take  along  and  read  on  the 
voyage,  for  its  effect  would  be  much  the 
same  as  Belasco's  matchless  device  for 
taking  us  into  the  atmosphere  of  Japan 
before  the  curtain  rose  on  the  exquisite 
little  one-act  play  of  "Madame  Butter- 
fly." Anyone  who  remembers  the  dream- 
like effect  of  scene  after  scene  that  took 
vou  into  the  very  heart  of  Japan  before 
the  curtain  rose,  and  the  low,  strange 
Japanese  music  that  seemed  to  breathe 
the  very  spirit  of  the  country,  will  know 
exactly  what  is  meant  by  this  creation 
of  an  atmosphere  before  one  sees  the 
actual  thing.  ("Untrodden  English 
Ways."  By  Henry  C.  Shelley.  Illus- 
trated with  four  full-page  plates  in  color, 
drawings  by  H.  C.  Colby  and  photo- 
graphs by  the  author.    341  pages.    Price, 

367 


REVIEWS 


$300.      Published    bv    Little,    Brown    & 
Company,  Boston.) 

TN    "The    House    Dignified"    by    Lillie 
■^   Hamilton  French,  the  author  has  en- 
deavored to  call  the  attention  of  the  Amer- 
ican public  to  the  sins  committed  in  arch- 
itect tire  and  decoration  when  the  wealth 
IS    greater    than    the    taste   of    the    hou^e 
builder.     The  indorsement  of  a  big  price 
tag  IS  apt  to  be  accepted  by  a  credulous 
public  as  the  indisputable  trade  mark  of 
beauty,  and  this  fact,  the  author  contends 
makes  the  elaborate  but  ill-judged  houses 
springing  up  in  America  a  menace  to  the 
standards  of  American  art. 

Particular  stress  is  laid  on  the  fitness  of 
the  rooms  for  their  u.ses,  and  consistency 
m  the  decoration  of  them.  In  every  home 
from  the  simplest  dwelling  to  the  grandest 
of  our  American  palaces,  the  personality 
of  the  owner  should  be  felt.  The  author 
holds  also  that  a  house  cannot  maintain 
Its  dignity  when  the  upper  halls  suggest 
that  the  imagination  or  pocket-book  of  the 
owner  has  been  exhausted  on  the  first  two 
stories,  or  when  even  the  servants'  quar- 
ters are  slighted. 

The    book    is    magnificentlv    illustrated 
with   interiors   from   the  homes  of  manv 

?<.!^?"\P/°'"'"^"f  '"  American  social  life 
(  Ihe  House  Dignified:  Its  Desim,  Its 
Arrangement,  Its  Decoration."  Rv  Lillie 
Hamilton  French.  75  original  ilkistra- 
10ns  157  pages.  Price,  ,$5.00  net.  Pub- 
lished by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  New 
1  ork. ) 


pROFESSOR  A\-illiam  T.  Sedgwick,  in 
t  IT;  /"Production  to  "Civics  and 
Health  by  William  H.  Allen,  calls  Dr. 
Allen  a  reformer  of  the  modern  type  •  not 
only  a  prophet,  crying  in  the  wilderness 
but  a  practical  worker  who  insists  upon 
actually  eradicating  the  evils  he  cries  out 
against.  Dr.  Allen  devotes  the  larger  por- 
tion of  his  work  to  the  discussion  of  dis- 
ease and  Its  prevalence  in  schools ;  for  the 


condition  of  school   children,   he   '^ay;    is 
the  best  inde.x  to  the  health  of  the  commu- 
nity.    Health,  he  maintains,  is  a  civic  ob- 
ligation and  its  prevalence  depend.-,  upon 
the  enforcement  of  the  public  health  laws 
We  are  already  approaching  the  last  days 
ot  the  tuberculosis  plague  and  can  we  not 
hy   the   same    insistent   pursuit,    root   out 
many  other  diseases?    Dr.  Allen  convinces 
his  readers  that  such  a  result  is  possible 
with  the  unwearied  efiforts  of  public  offi- 
cers, aided  by  the  cooperation  of  private 
individuals.    The  book  stimulates  the  real- 
ization of  what  health  means  to  the  pros- 
perity of  a  country  and  how  great  a  part 
Ignorance  plays  in  its  destruction.     It  is  a 
book  worthy  of  a  very  general   reading. 
(    Civics  and  Health."     By  Dr.   William 
n  iv  ,     ;    ,450  pages.     Price.  $1.2^  net. 
Published    by    Ginn    &    Companv.  \\ew 
York. ) 

"T^"^  Delafield  Aff^n^h  a  story  of 


Western    life    by    Florence    Finch 
Kelly.     Sniinirr  Dclafield,   of    Boston    a 
swindler  on  a  large  scale,  suddcnlv  failed 
m  business,  and  giving  out  that  'he  had 
committed    suicide,    absconded    to     New 
Mexico,   leaving  desolation    in    his    trail 
His  crime  brought  ruin  and  death  into  the 
family  of   Curtis  Conrad,  then   a  bnv  at 
school.    Conrad  has  been  inexorable  in  his 
search  for  the  swindler  and  finds  him  some 
twenty  years  after,  when  the  story  opens. 
Uclaficid  has  taken  the  name  of  Bancroft 
and  is  a  successful  banker.    Not  until  Con- 
rad has  fallen  in  love  with  the  daughter 
Lucy  Bancroft,  does  he  discover  who  her 
father  really  is.     He  lays  aside  his  long 
planned  revenge,  but  justice  overtakes  the 
criminal  and  a  cloudburst  wrecks  the  hank 
building  and  buries  him  beneath  its  ruins. 
Mrs.  Kelly  is  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  country  of  which   she  writes,  as  her 
excellent  bits  of  description  testify    TThe 
Delafield    Afl^air."     By    Florence     Finch 
Kelly.     Four   illustrations  in   color.     422 
pages.     Price  $1.50  net.     Published  by  .A. 
C.  McClurgand  Company,  Chicago.)  ' 


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