CHISWICK PRESS :—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

it- to charles rowley, j.p.
chairman of the manchester
municipal school of art, to
whose energy, sympathy, and
enthusiasm the school, in its
newer development, owes so
much, and to my former col-
leagues of the teaching staff,
as well as to all students,
i dedicate this book ^

I^HE substance of the following chapters
originally formed a series of lectures
addressed to the students of the Manchester
Municipal School of Art during my tenure of
the directorship of Design at that institution.

The field covered is an extensive one, and I
am conscious that many branches of my subject
are only touched, whilst others are treated in a
very elementary manner. Every chapter, in-
deed, might be expanded into a volume, under
such far-reaching headings, to give to each sec-
tion anything like adequate treatment.

My main object, however, has been to trace
the vital veins and nerves of relationship in the
arts of design, which, like the sap from the cen-
tral stem, springing from connected and collect-
ive roots, out of a common ground, sustain and
unite in one organic whole the living tree.

In an age when, owing to the action of certain
economic causes—the chiefest being commercial
competition—the tendency is to specialize each
branch of design, which thus becomes isolated
{rom the rest, I feel it is most important to keep
in mind the real fundamental connection and
essential unity of art: and though we may, as
students and artists, in practice be intent upon
gathering the fruit from the particular branch
We desire to make our own, we should never be
insensible to its relation to other branches, its
dependence upon the main stem and the source
oi Its life at the root.

Preface Otherwise we are, I think, in danger of be-
coming mechanical in our work, or too narrowly-
technical, while, as a collective result of such
narrowness of view, the art of the age, to which
each individual contributes, shows a want of
both imaginative harmony and technical relation
with itse f, when unity of effect and purpose is
particularly essential, as in the design and
decoration of both public and private buildings,
not to speak of the larger significance of art as
the most permanent record of the life and ideals
of a people.

My illustrations are drawn from many sources,
and consist of a large proportion of those origin-
ally used for the lectures, only that instead of
the rough charcoal sketches done at the time,
careful pen drawings have been made of many
of the subjects in addition to the photographs
and other authorities.

It may be noted that I have freely used both
line and tone blocks in the text and throughout
the book, although I advocate the use of line
drawings only with type in books wherein com-
pleteness of organic ornamental character is the
object. Such a book as this, however, being
rather in the nature of a tool or auxiliary to a
designer's workshop, can hardly be regarded
from that point of view. The scheme of the
work, which necessitates the gathering together
of so many and varied illustrations as diverse in
scale, subject, and treatment as the historic
periods which they represent, would itself pre-
clude a consistent decorative treatment, and it
has been found necessary to reproduce many of
the illustrations from their original form in large
scale drawings on brown paper touched with

white, as well as from photographs which Preface
necessarily print as tone-blocks.

I have to thank Mr. Gleeson White for his
valuable help in many ways, as well as in
obtaining permission from various owners of
copyright to use photographs and other illus-
trations, and also the publishers, who have
allowed me the use of blocks in some instances
—Mr. George Allen for a page from " The
Faerie Queen"; Messrs. Bradbury, Agnew
and Co. Tor the use of the " Punch " drawings ;
and Messrs. J. S. Virtue and Co. for the use of
photographs of carpet weaving and glass blow-
ing, which were specially taken for " The Art
Journal." My thanks are also due to Mr.
Metford Warner (Messrs. Jeffrey and Co.) for
the use of his photo-lithographs of my wall-
paper designs issued by his firm ; Mr. R.
Phene Spiers for the use of his sketch of the
iron balustrade from Rothenburg; Mr. T. J.
Cobden-Sanderson for photographs of two of
his recent bookbindings; the executors of the
late Rev. W. H. Greeny for permission to
reproduce two of the illustrations from his
" Monumental Brasses on the Continent of
Europe" (now published by Mr. B. T. Bats-
ford) ; also Mr. Harold Rathbone, who kindly
allows me to reproduce the cartoons by Ford
Madox Brown in his possession; Mr. J. Syl-
vester Sparrow for the practical notes on paint-
ing glass; and Mr. Emery Walker and Mr.

OF THE ARCHITECTURAL BASIS .
OF THE UTILITY BASIS x\ND INFLU-
ENCE .............

OF THE SYMBOLIC INFLUENCE, OR
emblematic ELEMENT IN DESIGN
OF THE GRAPHIC INFLUENCE, OR

CHAP.

III

IV
V

PAGE
i

119

15s
185
215

250
291
335

Ornamental lines in the Frieze of the Parthenon . •
Metope of the Parthenon, showing relation and pro-
portions of the masses in relief to the ground . .

The Parthenon—Eastern Pediment, sketches showing
relation of lines of sculpture to angle of Pediment
The Parthenon—Elevation showing portion of Pedi-
ment, Frieze and Columns........

1 art of Interior of Dome of St. Mark's, Venice • •
Mosaic of the Empress Theodora, St. Vitale, Ravenna

I ypical Forms of Gothic Geometric Foliation . .
VN estminster Abbey, the Nave, looking east . . •

23
25

29
31

33
35
37

Persistent Pattern Plans, Rectangular Basis . . . • »7
Corbel, Seventeenth Century, Dennington Church,

The same, showing distribution of Ducts and Vents . 98
Wrought-iron Gates, St. Lawrence, Nuremberg . . 99
Wrought-iron Fender, Tongs, Fire-dog and Shovel,

Wrought-iron Altar Screen, St. Thomas's, Salisbury . 102
Wrought-iron Balustrade, Rothenburg, from a sketch

Diagrams showing the principle of the Loom ... 105
Persian Carpet (South Kensington Museum) ... 107

Ceiling Papers, designed by Walter Crane .... 123
Pattern Plans and Motives controlled by conditions of

Repeat Wall-papers, designed by Walter Crane 128, 129
^•ge Plans, showing various arrangements of Text and

p Se from "The Glittering Plain " (Kelmscott Press) 133
age from Spenser's " Faerie Queene " (Walter Crane) 135
J-nirteenth Century Glass from the Sainte Chapelle,
n- P^-ris (South Kensington Museum). . 138, 139, 141
■sixteenth Century Glass from Winchester College

Chapel (South Kensington Museum) .... 143
nirteenth Century Glass Grisaille, Salisbury Cathedral 147
XV

Frieze in coloured and glazed Bricks, Palace of Susa
(from the Reproduction in the South Kensing-
ton Museum), drawn by W. Cleobury . . . . 167
Holy Carpet of the Mosque at Ardebil (South Ken-
sington Museum)...........171

189

Altar with Offerings Egyptian Mural Painting, Thebes 190

19E
192

Egyptian Wall-painting (British Museum)
Assyrian Tree of Life
Assyrian Bas-reliefs (British Museum). . . 193,194,195
Assur Beni Pal, Assyrian Lions from the Britisli

Arabian Fourteenth Century carved and inlaid Pulpit,
Cairo (South Kensington Museum), drawn by

Panel in carved and inlaid Wood, from the Mosque of
Tooloon in Cairo, Fourteenth or Fifteenth

Fra Angelico, Angel (UfBzi, Florence) . . . 234, 235
Orcagna, Fiends from "The Triumph of Death,"

Bella Pax, Fortune, Ambition, Avarice . . 246, 247
Prehistoric Graphic Art of the Cave Men . . . 251, 252
Egyptian Treatment of Birds (from painted Mummy

Memling, "Deliveranceof St.Peter"(GrimaniBreviary) 266
Memling, " David placing the Ark in the Tabernacle "

Brass of Joris de Munter and Wife (Bruges, 1439) . 281
Brass of King Eric Menved and Queen Ingeborg of

Niccolo Pisano, Pulpit (Baptistery, Pisa) .... 303
Orcagna, "Triumph of Death," Fresco (Campo Santo,

Mantegna, Bronze Monument (S. Andrea, Mantua) . 313
Mantegna, "The Triumph of Julius Csesar," from

Bust of Michael Angelo (S. Croce, Florence) . . . 325
Michael Angelo, Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (" The

Michael Angelo, The Delphic Sibyl (Sistine Chapel) . 331
Michael Angelo, Tomb of Giuliano de Medici

Note.—whole of the illustraiions have been reproduced
by Messrs. Walker and Boutall.

21,/or Apollinaris read Apollinare.
51, line 5, m7iit the words see patterns from Mycenje.
60, „ 19, j^r Pourbus Pourbos.
71, „ 30, and «//^r restrained.

74, „ 2, surrounded surmounted.
^^Ztfor Ceiling Wall-paper read Ceiling Paper.
234 and 235, for Ufizzi read Uffizi.
284, line 2>tfor Edmund Calvert read Edward Calvert.

WHEN we approach the study of Design, chap. i,
from whatever point of view, and what-
soever our ultimate aim and purpose, we can Basis
hardly fail to be impressed with the vast variety
^nd endless complexity of the forms which the
term (Design) covers, understanding it in its
Eldest and fullest sense.

From the simplest linear pattern, or bone
^cratchings of primitive man, to the most splen-
did achievements in mural decoration of the
Italian Renascence—or, shall we say, from the
S^rass mat of the first plaiter to the finest Persian
^•"Pet: or from Stonehenge to Salisbury
Cathedral—the range is enormous, and were
^^ to attempt to trace, step by step, the true
""elation between the diverse and multitudinous
s^racteristics which such contrasts suggest, we
of be tracing the course of the development
° "U; thought and history themselves.

When we stand amazed in this labyrinth—
. is enchanted and beautiful wood of human
^yention which the history of art displays, we
ight be content to gaze at the loveliness of
particular forms there, and simply enjoy, like

Chap. I. children, the beauty of the trees and flowers ;
Sctirat'^*^^' gathering here and there at random, and casting
Basis them aside again when we were tired, without

If, however, we desire to find some clue to
the labyrinth—something which will explain it
in part, at least, something which will give us a
key to the relation of these manifold forms, and
enable us to place them in harmonious order
and coherence, we shall presently ask :

(3) What have been the chief influences which
have determined, and still determine, their
varieties ?

Let us try and address ourselves to these
questions, since, I believe, even if we only end
as we begin, by inquiry, that, in the course of
that inquiry, by study, by comparison, and care-
ful observation, we shall be able greatly to clear
our path, and find much to help us as individual
students and practical workers in art.

(i) The first arts are, of course, those of
pure utility, which spring from the primal
physical necessities of man: which are concerned
in the maintenance of life itself.—The art or
craft of the hunter and the fisherman, the tiller
of the soil, the hewer of wood and the drawer
of water : but seeing that next to securing suf-
ficiency of food, the eflforts of man are directed
towards providing himself with shelter, both of
roof and raiment, and since most of the arts of
the creative sort must be practised under shelter
of some kind, and that all of them contribute in

some way towards the building or adornment Chap. i.
of such shelter, I think we shall find the true °"urat
basis and controlling influences, which have Basis
been paramount in the development of decora-
tive design, in the form and character of the
dwellings of man and their accessories ; from
the temples he has raised to enshrine his highest
ideals — these temples themselves being but
larger and more monumental dwellings, to the
tomb, his last dwelling-place. We shall find, in
short, the original and controlling bases of design
in architecture, the queen and mother of all
the arts.

In asserting this one does not lose sight of
the view that all art is, primarily, the projection
or precipitation in material form of mans emo-
tional and intellecttial nature; but, being pro-
jected and taking definite shape, it becomes subject
to certain controlling forces of nature, of material,
of condition, which re-act upon the mind; and
It is with these controlling forces and conditions,
and the distinctions which arise out of them,
that we are now concerned.

Such distinctions as exist, for instance, in the
feeling, the plan and construction of those pat-
terns intended to be laid upon the floors (as in
carpets or tiles), and such as are intended to
cover ceilings and walls (as in plaster-work,
textile hangings or wall papers), obviously arise
irorn the relative positions of floor, walls, and
ceilings, and the differences between horizontal
and vertical positions; and these conditions are
necessarily part and parcel of the constructional
co^itions of the dwelling itself.
tV. shelter may be said to have been

Chap. I. and the Cave, the first homes of man ; although
Scturat'*^^'" he was probably not by any means the first
Basis animal to hide among the woods and the rocks,

since he had many and formidable foes to
dispute with or disturb him in possession. It
is noticeable that such art as is associated
with this strange and remote chapter of man's
existence on the earth—the art-instinct which
impelled the primitive hunter to incise the bone
and stone implements he used with the images
of the animals he hunted—is purely graphic, and
does not show any feeling of that adaptive
ornamental quality characteristic of what we call
decorative design, which would seem to belong
to a more highly organized condition of society.
"Among the primitive Greeks," remarks Messrs.
Guhl and Koner in their Life of the Greeks
and Romans, " fountains and trees, caves and
mountains, were considered as seats of the gods,
and revered accordingly, even without being
changed into divinehabitations by the artof man."
But, as proving literally that art springs out of
nature, the cave itself led to a development of
architecture, as in some early Greek tombs where
the cave, or cleft in the rocks, is utilized and
added to by masonry; or where the rock itself
was carved and hollowed, as in the rock-cut
temples of Egypt and India. To which some
trace the origin of columnar architecture.

The Tent of the Asiatic wandering tribes,
and the wattled and wooden Hut of the western
and northern, come next in the order of human
dwellings, and not only may we trace certain
types of pattern design to both sources, but it
would seem as if both the tent and the hut,
and perhaps the wagon of the Aryans, had had

their influence upon the more substantial stone
structures which succeeded them. When tribes
became communities, townships were founded,
and more fixed and settled habits of life pre-
vailed.

Now we may broadly group the principal
types of architectural form and construction in
three principal divisions, following Professor
Ruskin, namely :

Of the first we may find the simplest type in
tonehenge ; we may find it in equally massive,

r ^^Ithough such a classification may not be quite satis-
point of view of the constructive and
^^"-orical architect, it sufficiently serves the present purpose
th/f ^^^^^^ the influence of these main types in determining
{jg orm and character and controlling spaces and lines of the
surface and sculptural design, which ac-
■v.Tk- them in ancient, classical, and mediaeval work

Chap. I. _ and almost as primitive form at Mycenae, at the
Scturat'^''^'' famous Gate of the Lions, remarkable as being
Basis the earliest known example of Greek sculpture :

we may find it more developed in the Greek
temples of ancient Egypt, at Karnac, Thebes
and Philse, and we may see it in its purest form
in the Parthenon at Athens.

The derivation and development of the Greek
Doric temple from its prototype of wooden con-
struction has fre-
quently been de-
monstrated, and
the tombs in
Lycia furnish
striking illustra-
tions of this close
imitation and
perpetuation in
stone of a system
and details be-
longing to wood ;
and it is instruc-
tive to compare
its features with
corresponding
' ■ parts in the Par-

thenon, and to observe how closely they agree.
It is a curious instance of that love for and
clinging to ancient and traditional forms, that
with the art and all the resources of Athenian
civilization, the form and construction of its
temples remained much the same, and may
be considered as only glorified enlargements in
marble of their wooden predecessors, retaining
all the characteristic details of those primitive
structures.

By these means, however, qualities of grandeur,
joined with extreme simplicity, subtle propor-
tions, and sparing, severe, but delicately chiselled
ornament were gained ; w^hich, when heightened
with colour in the broad and strong sunshine of
Greece, seemed all sufficient, especially so when
they formed the framework, or setting, of the
most beautiful and noble sculpture the world
has ever seen, as in the Parthenon.

To this sculpture, indeed, all the lines and Sculpture,
proportions of the building seem to lead the
^ye, while it remains, whether in pediment,
"metope, or frieze, an essential part of the archi-
tectural effect, and is strictly slab sculpture, or
^hat may be considered as architectural orna-
Jppnt, for, as I have elsewhere said, we may
lairly consider figure-sculpture to have been the
^^f^ament of the Greeks: just as one might say
that picture writing and hieroglyphic were the
^^iral decorations of the Egyptians.

SlSrat"^"^'' "I^der the influence of the strongest architectural
and decorative feeling, and were constructed
upon a basis of ornamental lines. There is a
certain rhythm and recurrence of mass, and line,
and form in them throughout, and they have all
been carefully considered in relation to the places
they occupy.

It is to be noted, too, that the sculptures are
placed in the interstices of the construction ; that
is to say, not on the actual bearing parts. On
this point it is interesting to compare with the
earlier forms of pure stone construction at
Mycenae. The lions over the Mycenae Gate
are carved upon a slab of stone placed in the
triangular hollow left above the lintel to prevent
it breaking under the great pressure of the
heavy stones used. The triangular hollow may

be seen without the slab in the doorway of chap. i.
Clytemnestra's house at Mycenae. Here we ^cturat'
have an early instance of the interstice left by Basis

; showing- RCLT^TION' 5^P»^OPORTION5' OFTHC
'^Asses - fN- «^.tUCF- TO THL- QJ^OUHD •

the necessities of the construction being utilized
a decorative feature, significant in its design,
showing the protecting image of the Castle of
Mycenae, much in the same way as we see the

Chap. I. family arms sculptured over the gateways of our
Pecturat'"^'" English medieval castles.

Returning to the Parthenon, we see that the
same principle is observable in the pediment
and metope sculptures, the frieze of the cella
being really a mural decoration consisting of
facing slabs of marble. The building would
doubtless stand without any of them, as a timber-
framed house would stand without its boarding,
or filling of brick or plaster ; but it would be
like a skeleton, or a head without its eyes—
much, indeed, as time, bombardment, ravage,
and the British Museum have left it now.

Before we leave the Parthenon, let me call
attention to one prevailing principle, charac-
teristic of its design in every part; for though
following throughout the principles or traditions
of wooden construction, no doubt its proportions
and lines were consciously and carefully con-
sidered by the architect with a view to sesthetic
effect. It is the principle of recurring or re-
echoing lines, a leading principle, indeed, through-
out the whole province of Design, and one on
the importance and value of which it is impos-
sible to lay too much stress.

To begin with the pediment. The main out-
line is delicately emphasized by the mouldings of
the edge, which also serve as a dripstone—the
practical origin, probably, of all mouldings. The
groups of sculptured figures within the recess
(which further serve to express the pitch of the
roof) re-echo, informally, in the lines controlling
their composition, as well as in the lines of limbs
and draperies, variations of the angle of the
pediment. Thus, the groups of figures, full of
action and variety as they are, are united and

Chap. I. harmonized with the whole building; while, to
Scturat'^'^^' avoid undue appearance of heaviness on the
crest of the pediment and on the angles were
placed anthemion bronze ornaments.

Relation of vertical lines of the triglyphs, and enriched by
the i?u? dentils below.

turerto^the Then we come to the cap of the Doric column.
pedime°nt^^^ It is simplicity itself. A thin square block of
marble forms the abacus. The capital is a
flattened circular cushion of marble, rounded at
the sides in a diminishing curve to the head of

the column, which terminates in a horizontal
reeding. The column itself is delicately chan-
nelled with a series of lines which follow its
outline, and give vertical expression to the idea
of the support of the horizontal mass above,
the column gradually diminishing from base to
cap, entasized or slightly swelled in the middle
to avoid the visual effect of running out of the
perpendicular. The Doric columns spring boldly
from the steps without base mouldings, the steps
repeating the horizontal lines of the building
again, and giving it height and dignity. The
other variants of the Greek style will illustrate
much the same principles in different degrees,
and we may trace the value of proportions, and
recurring lines, and different degrees of enrich-
ment through the other four orders.

As designers, then, we can at least learn some
very important lessons from lintel architecture
generally, and from the Parthenon in particular,
and chiefest amongst these are :

3. The value of ornamental design and treat-
ment of figures in low or high relief as parts of
architectural expression.

4. The value of largeness of style in the
design and treatment of the groups and figures
themselves, both as sculpture pure and simple
and as architectural ornament.

When we come to examine the accessories
of Greek life, furniture, pottery, dress, we find
them all characterized by the same qualities in
design as we have just been noting in the archi-
tecture, the fundamental architectural feeling

seems to pervade them. A simplicity of line,
balance, and reserve of ornament distinguishes
alike their seats and chairs and tables, caskets,
vases and vessels, and the expressive line of
their dresses and dra-
peries falling into the
lines of the figure give
life and variety, while
they contrast with the
severity of the archi-
tectural lines and
planes.

Now, so far we have
been considering the
architecture of the lin-
tel, and its bearing

With the use of the round arch—invented, it
is said, by the Greeks, but always associated
with the Romans, who used it—quite different
effects come in, with different motives and ideas

Chap. I. in design. The Roman architecture, the round
Scturat'''^'' fulfils the functions of both construction

rence, or repetition, we have noticed before ; as,
for instance, in the Colosseum, where the tiers
of round arches which support the outer wall
of the building, serve both the constructive
and decorative functions. With the use of
the arch the arcade becomes a constructive
feature of great decorative value, and takes
the place in Roman and Romanesque buildings,
with a lighter and more varied effect, of the
columned Greek cella. Sunshine, no doubt,
had much to do with its use, since a covered
arcaded loggia, or porch in front of a building,
so frequent in Italy, gave both shelter and
coolness. The use of the arch led to vaulting,
and to the use of arch mouldings, enrichments,
and to the covering the vaults with mosaic
and painting, and the vaulting led to the dome,
which, again, offered a splendid field for the
mosaicist and the painter.

The Romans borrowed all their architectural
details from the Greeks, and varied and enriched
them, adding many more members to the cornice
mouldings, and carving stone garlands upon
their friezes, to take the place of the primitive
festal ones of leaves which were hung there, as
in the relief of the visit of Bacchus to Icarius, a
Romano-Greek sculpture in the British Museum.

They (the Romans) fully realized the orna-
mental value of colonnades and porticoes, and
they used the column, varying the orders, and
translating them into pilasters freely as decora-
tions on the fa9ades and walls of their build-
ings, slicing up the peristyles of temples, as it

COMSTRVCTIVL' 3c DECOaATlVE USE
•OF ROVMD ARCH & P\L7\STER
• FLAVIAN An.PM>Ti-iEATRE tcoLossEvn:

were, for the sake of their ornamental effect,
cutting down the columns into pilasters, and
placing them, with intervening friezes, one on
the top of the other, masking the construction
of the real building, a favourite device with the
Renascence architects.

Roman architecture may be considered really
as a transitional style. While its true con-
structive characteristic is the round arch, every
detail of the Greek or Lintel architecture is used

Graeco-

Roman

relief,

British

Museum

both without and with the arch, and in the latter
case the column frequently becomes a wall
decoration in the shape of a pilaster, as well as
the cornice, and is no longer made use of, as
in true lintel construction, to support the weight
of the roof In their viaducts and bridges
and baths they were great builders with the
arch, but, like some modern engineers, when
they wanted to beautify they borrowed archi-
tectural ornament from the Greeks.

these adaptations except a certain heavy richness
of detail in the sculptured cornices and friezes,
and coffered ceilings. The use of the flat
pilaster, however, led to the panelled pilaster
with its elegant arabesque, which was afterwards
revived and developed with such extraordinary
grace and variety by the artists of the Renas-
cence and carried from Italy westward.

With the round arch, too, several important
decorative spaces were given to the designer,
the spandrel, the panel, the medallion, all of
which, with the frieze, may be seen utilized
for the decorative sculpture on the arch of
Constantine. The decorative use of inscriptions
is also a feature in Roman architecture, and the
dignity of the form of their capital letters were
well adapted to ornamental effect in square
masses upon their triumphal arches and along
the entablature of their temples.

The Romans, too, brought the domed roof and
the mosaic floor into use, and were great in the
use of coloured marbles ; also stucco and plaster
work in interiors. The free and beautiful plaster
work found in the tombs on the Latin Way being
well known, so that on the whole we owe to
them the illustration of the effective use of many
beautiful arts, which the Italians have inherited
to this day, though it must be said often with
more skill than taste.

One might say, generally and ultimately,
Roman art exemplified that love of show, and
the external signs of power, pomp, splendour,
and luxury which became dear as well as fatal to
them, as they appear to do to every conquering
people, until they are finally enervated and
overcome as if by the Nemesis of their own
supremacy.

The art of Greece, one may say, on the other
hand, at her zenith represented that love of
beauty as distinct from ornament, and clearness
and severity of thought which will always cling
to the country from whence the modern world
derives the germ of nearly all its ideas.

But when the seat of the empire was trans-
ferred to Constantinople, and Roman art, in-
fluenced by Asiatic feeling, and stimulated and
elevated by the new faith of Christianity,
became transfigured into the solemn splendour
of Byzantine art, the architecture of the round
arch and the dome and cupola rose to its fullest
beauty, and such buildings as St. Sophia at
Constantinople, and St. Mark's at Venice, with
the churches of Ravenna, mark another great
and noble epoch in the arts of design.

carving, in mosaic, or goldsmiths' work, im-
presses one with a certain restraint in the midst
of its splendour, a certain controlling dignity
and reserve appears to be exercised even in the
use of the most beautiful materials, as well as in
design and the treatment of form.

The mosaics of the Ravenna churches alone
are sufficient to exemplify this. The artists
seemed fully to realize that the curved surfaces

of the dome, the half dome of the apse, or
the long flat frieze above the arch columns
of the nave of the basilicas, like St. Apolli-
naris in Classe, afforded splendid fields for a
splendid material, the cross light from the deep-
set windows enriching the effect, and that every-
thing might well be secondary to it. The
same principle or feeling is seen in St. Mark's,
where the architecture is quite simple, the arches
and vaulting without mouldings, nothing to

Chap. I. interfere with the quiet splendour of the gold or
SctuLt'"^^*" blue fields of mosaic varied with simple typical

figures, bold in silhouette, placed frankly upon
them, emblems, boldly curving scroll-work, and
inscriptions. The execution, too, is^as direct

Note the way in which the tesserae are laid
(in the head of the Empress Theodora from
St. Vitale at Ravenna, for instance). The cube is
used as much as possible, but the cubes vary

Chap. I. much in size, and are set often with very open
t^lturat'^^'^' joints, the cement lines of the bedding showing
Basis quite clearly, and the surface of the work un-

even, the tesserae being worked, of course, from
the front and in situ, presenting a varied surface
of different greets which, catching the light at
different angles, give an extraordinary sparkle
and richness to the effect as a whole. In the
head of Theodora the effect is enhanced by
the discs of mother-of-pearl used for the head-
dress.

In the laying of the tesserae, too, note that
the system is followed of defining the outlines
with rows of cubes, and building up the masses
(as in the nimbus) with concentric rows, as a
rule, making the lines of the filling tesserae
follow as far as possible the line of the boundary
tesserae. This, of course, would naturally result
as the simplest and most convenient, as well as
most expressive, method of laying on tesserae,
in defining form by means of small cubes, and is
one of the conditions of the work, and when, as
in these mosaics, so far from being refined
away, or concealed, or any attempt being made
(as in later times) to imitate painting, these
conditions are boldly and frankly acknowledged,
we see how its peculiar beauty, character, and
the quality of its ornamental effect depends
upon these very conditions.

This principle will be found to hold good and
true throughout all art. Directly, from a false
idea of refinement, or with the object of dis-
playing mechanical skill, the craftsman is induced
to try and conceal the fundamental conditions
of his craft, and tries to make it ape the qualities
of some totally different sort of work, he ceases

to be an artist, at all events. The true artist Chap. i.
in any material is he who in acknowledging its ^ctur^*^^^'
conditions and limitations finds in them sources Basis

and opportunities of new beauty, and in being
faithful to those conditions makes them subserve
his invention.

After the decorative splendour of the Byzan-
tine architecture, the Norman work left in our

Chap. I. own land seems comparatively simple and plain
tecturat'*^^' as time has left it, but its remains show its
Basis Roman descent in the doorway and porch of

many a quiet village church, as well as on a
greater scale in so many of our cathedrals, which
often illustrate, in a remarkable way, the tran-
sition or growth of one style out of another, the
new evolved from the old.

At Canterbury, for instance, one reads the
signs which mark the transformation of the
Norman building into the Gothic, The first
church founded by St. Augustine was Saxon.
This was enlarged by Otho (938) as a basilica.
This again was ruined by the Danes (1013).
The Norman part of the present building was
constructed by Bishop Lanfranc (1070), on to
which was grafted, as it were, the thirteenth,
fourteenth, and fifteenth century Gothic which
distinguish it.

There is a tower on the south side of the
transept known as Anselm's Tower (from Bishop
Anselm, one of the Norman builders), and on
the lower part runs an arcading of interlacing
round arches, the tower itself being richly arcaded
in several stories in round arches. But this lower
band of interlaced arcading shows the period of
transitional, from the use of the semicircular or
found arch, to the pointed—the pointed lancet
arches being formed by the interlacing of the
round, so that we have here the actual birth of
the pointed arch, which leads us to our next
typical division and characteristic epoch of
architectural style.

We need not go out of our own country to
find abundant illustrations of typical forms of
pointed architecture. Almost any village church

will give us the main features^—the characteristic
plan of nave and chancel, curiously following

the plan of the ancient Roman basilica—the
public hall and law court in one, and perpetuat-

Chap. I.
Of the Archi-
tectural
Basis

Typical
forms of
arches, etc.
Foliation

ing for us the type of ancient dwelling or
hall which may be said to have prevailed from
the time of Homer to the end of the Middle

first phase of the Gothic, which gradually grew
out of the severer Norman. gable took a

higher pitch, and to support the weight and
thrust of towers and spires, buttresses were used,
and these became, also, a striking and charac-
teristic feature of the pointed arch, which com-
pleted in the thirteenth century the period of
its first development.

Lancet arch, high-pitched gable,buttress (plain
and pinnacled), spired and pinnacled tower-—
these are the leading constructive exterior
characteristics, the carved work, somewhat re-
strained, and chiefly manifested in peculiar
foliation of the capitals and corbels, and in the
hollows of arch mouldings in rows of sharp cut
dog teeth.

In the interior clustered shafts took the place
of the solid round Norman piers, rising, as
we see in our cathedral naves, to support lofty
vaulted roofs, the ribs moulded and covered at
their intersections by carved bosses.

Again we may note the principle of recurring
lines which repeat and emphasize the form of
the arched openings and the structural lines of
the vaulting in the mouldings. This recurrence
gives that effect of extraordinary grace and light-
ness combined with structural strength which is
so striking a characteristic of thirteenth cen-
tury Gothic work, and of which there is no finer
example than the nave of Westminster Abbey.

We noted that the Greeks used the inter-
stices of their construction for their chief decora-
tion, their figure sculpture, and to some extent

Chap. I. the same plan is followed in Gothic architec-
tectursa'^'^'^^" ture, where we find the tympanums of doors,
Basis the spandrels of arcades (as in the Chapter

House at Salisbury or the angel choir at
Lincoln), and canopied niches (as at Wells),
used for figure sculpture; but, at the same
time, the structural features themselves are em-
phasized by ornament to a far greater extent,
as in caps, arch mouldings, the junctions of the
vaulting, and the like ; and increasingly so in
the succeeding Decorated and Perpendicular
periods, until we get vaulted roofs of fan tracery
ike those of King's College Chapel at Cam-
bridge, or Henry VH.'s Chapel at Westminster.

But if we may say that the chief decorative
glory of Greek architecture was its figure sculp-
ture, as mosaic was of the Byzantine churches,
so we may say that the traceried window, filled
with stained and leaded glass, became the chief
decorative glory of Gothic architecture.

Unhappily great quantities of glass have dis-
appeared from our cathedrals and churches,
from one cause or another, but from the relics
that remain we may form some idea of the
splendour and quality of the old glass.

The famous windows of the south transept at
York Minster, called " The Five Sisters," are
good examples of the severer earlier style of
pattern and colour, consisting of fine scroll-
work and geometric forms, in which hatched
grisaille patterns are heightened by bright
points and lines of colour.

Thirteenth century glass, where figures are
used, is characterized by the smallness of their
scale in proportion to the window, and traces of
Byzantine tradition in their drawing, intricate

design, and deep and vivid colouring, the work
being composed of small pieces of glass leaded
together ; the effect of the jewel-like depth and
quality of the colour—deep crimsons, blues, and
greens being much used—being increased by the
close network of leading.

As windows, in the course of the evolution of
the Gothic style, were made broader, or rather,
the window opening proper from wall to wall
being greatly increased in width and height,
they were supported and divided into panels or
lights by elaborate stone tracery, a tracery
which becomes almost as distinct a province of
design as the design of the glass itself—distinct
from, yet in close relationship to, the architec-
ture of the building. The comparative slight
divisions of the tracery, however, gave more
scope to the stained glass designer, who shows
very emphatic architectural influence in the
elaborate canopies which surmount the figures
occupying the separate lights of the windows
from the thirteenth to the end of the fifteenth
centuries, as well as in the general vertical arrange-
ment of the lines of their composition. He
gradually increased the scale of his figures and
gave more breadth to his design, and brought
it more into relation with the art of the painter
and the sculptor, at the same time acknowledging
with them, in the disposition of his figures in the
space, and the disposition of the draperies and
accessories, that architectural influence under
which the artist and craftsman of the Middle
Ages worked with extraordinary freedom and
fertility of invention, and yet in perfect harmony.^

^ As I recur to the subject of glass design in Chapter IV,
illustrations are given there.

SctSrat'''^^ effect of the formation of men into brotherhoods
Basis and guilds, which, coming in with the adoption

of Christianity and the organization of the
Church, remained through all the turbulence
and strife of the time the great social force of
the Middle Ages.

It seems to me if we wish to realize the ideal
of a great and harmonious art, which shall be
capable of expressing the best that is in us : if
we desire again to raise great architectural
monuments, religious, municipal, or commemora-
tive, we shall have to learn the great lesson
of unity through fraternal co-operation and
sympathy, the particular work of each, however
individual and free in artistic expression, falling
naturally into its due place in a harmonious
scheme. Let us cultivate our technical skill and
knowledge to the utmost, but let us not neglect
our imagination, sense of beauty, and sympathy,
or else we shall have nothing to express.

Through the thirteenth century onwards to
the fifteenth Gothic architecture continued to
develop, to pass through new phases, to take
new forms, a living and growing style moving
with the wants and ideals of men.

After the Early English comes the Decorated
period, in which the mouldings and foliation
become fuller, broader, and more ornate. To
contrast decorated foliation and ornament with
the earlier work, is like comparing the opening
flower with the bud. The ogee arch was invented,
the crockets of the pinnacles and canopies grew
and increased and became finer in form, the
finials larger and more varied. The carved

Chap. I. more intricate. The foliage followed nature
SctuLt''*'^'" more closely. The figure subjects of the carver
Basis were more freely treated, and dealt oftener with

effigies of knight and lady, or priest, became
more and more like portraits in stone or ala-
baster, the details of their dresses more rich,
delicate, and beautiful. The maker of brasses
showed a freer and more masterly hand, and
greater sense of ornamental effect in the spac-

ing and treatment of his figures. The work of chap. i.
the miniaturist and the scribe grew more and ^ctur^'^'^^'"
more delicate and exquisite in form, colour, and Basis
invention. The stained glass worker increased
the scale of his figures, and varied the quality
and treatment of his colours. The glazier in-
vented new lead patterns; the wood carver
revelled in stall work, screens, and misereres.
The recessed

Beauty and in-
vention of extra-
ordinary fertility
and richness cha-
racterized every
form of art and
handicraft asso-
ciated with Go-
thic architecture.
We can trace in
each variety the
architectural influence in every department of
work In some instances reproduction of actual
architectural details and characteristics, as, for
instance, when the wrought-iron railing of a
bishop's tomb (at Weils Cathedral, 1464-5)
reproduced the battlement, buttress and pin-
nacle as motives, giving them, however, a free
and fanciful rendering suited to the material.

Abundant instances may be found of the
fanciful treatment of architectural forms in furni-
ture, textiles, in painting and carving, and metal

f • ££Jk ■TctTOuqW •

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-thomDi!-
Mill -BAvnto-

Chap. I. work—the canopies over the heads of figures in
^ctur^''^^^ stained glass, and inclosing figures upon brasses,

are instances—shrines and caskets in the form of
arcaded, and buttressed and pinnacled build-
ings, seats and chairs with canopied or arched
backs, carved bench ends with " poppy head"
finials and arched and foliated panels, censers

in the form of shrines.
The large gold brocaded
stuffs used as hangings
or coverings, and repre-

sented in miniatures and pictures of the period.
Very beautiful specimens are to be seen in
the pictures of Van Eyck and Memling for
instance.

In all these things we find a re-echo, as it
were, of the prevailing foliated forms of Gothic
architecture, repeated through endless varia-
tions, the controlling and harmonizing element
throughout the design work of the Gothic
periods, the form by which all seem to be har-

The fourteenth century saw the development
of a new phase of Gothic called Perpendicular.
It is found united with the Early English and

At St. David's, for instance, there is a re-
markable instance of a late Perpendicular timber
roof, richly moulded and carved, with pendants,
covering a Norman nave of 1180. Yet the
effect is line, and one feels glad that the restoring
architect could find no authority for a Norman

Stone vaulting, otherwise we might have lost
the rich timber roof for a modern idea of a
supposititious Norman vault. The sketch (from
the south side of the choir at Canterbury, p. 45),
too, shows how harmoniously structural lines of
different periods compose.

Gothic (Perpendicular)
are a lower pitched
arch, an elongated
shaft, many clustered;
caps and bases angular;
ribs of vaulting richly
moulded, or the vault
covered with fan-like
foliation in late ex-
amples, as in Henry
VII.'s Chapel. Pin-
nacles begin to take
the cupular form, de-
tails become smaller,
windows grow larger
and are transversely
divided by transoms
or horizontal bars of
stone, connecting and
solidifying the many vertical mullions.

A certain refinement of detail and line with a
feeling for emphatic horizontals and verticals
comes in; and this feeling may be the indication
of a reaction, as if the constructive and imagi-
native faculties of man were beginning to pre-
pare for the next great change that was soon to
sweep over the art of Europe.

It might be said that gradually from that time
architecture, as the supreme organic and con-

trolling influence in the arts of design, gave up Chap. i.
her prerogative of leadership, and since has SctuLt'^'^^^"
rather been on the whole displaced in artistic Basis
interest by the other arts; or rather, with the

change of the principle of organic growth out of
use and constructive necessity in architecture
for those of classical authority, archaeology, or
learned eclecticism, the different arts, more
especially painting, began an independent exist-

Chap. I. ence, and, with the other arts of design, may
tecturat'^'^^'" ^^ have been more individuahzed and

tecture ever since, reaching the extremest points
of divergence perhaps in our own days.

It seems to me that, on the whole, there can
be little doubt that architecture and the arts of
design generally have suffered in consequence;
and to bring them back to healthy and harmoni-
ous activity we must try to re-unite them all
again upon the old basis.

I will terminate here my short sketch of
architectural style and its influence, not attempt-
ing now to follow it in its later changes and
adaptations to the increased complexities of
human existence. My purpose has been rather
to dwell upon the organic and typical forms of
architecture, in my endeavour to trace the
relationship between it and the art of design
generally.

That relationship appears to me to consist
chiefly in the control of constructive line and
form, which all design, surface or otherwise, in
association with any form of architecture is
bound of necessity to acknowledge as a funda-
mental condition of fitness and harmony. Those
essential properties of the expression of line, as
they now seem, which give meaning and pur-
^ pose to all design, appear to be derived straight

from constructive necessities and the inseparable
association of ideas with which they are con-
nected ; as, for instance, the idea of secure rest
and repose conveyed by horizontal lines, or the
sense of support and rigidity suggested by
vertical ones may be directly traced to associa-
tion with the fundamental principles of architec-

5TRUCTURAL
Lines OF
BlFFtReNT
P£RlOD5 IN
HARM0M10U5
COMBlNATiOM

c/iTHe.PR/qi_i'

tural Structure, to the lintel and its support, to
the laying of stone upon stone,, and with this
clue we might trace the expression of line
through its many variations.

N' EXT to the architectural basis influence chap. ii.
in design, and, indeed, hardly separable StiiSy
from it, being another side of the constructive, Basis and
adaptive art, we may fitly take the Utility Basis
and influence.

(1) In its effect upon pattern design and
architectural ornament through primitive
structural necessities.

(2) In its effect upon structural form and
ornamental treatment arising out of, or
suggested by, functional use.

(i) It is a curious thing that we should find
the primitive ornamental motives bound up with
the primitive structures and fabrics of pure
utility and necessity, but such would appear to
be the case.

The plaiting of rushes to make a mat was
probably one of the earliest industrial occupa-
tions, and the chequer one of the most primitive
and universal of patterns. If we look at the sur-
face effect of the necessity of the construction,
the crossing of one equal set of fibres by another
set at right angles, with the interlacement, a
series of squares are produced, which alternate

in tint if the colour of one
set is darker than the sets
which cross it (see illus-
tration). Emphasize this
contrast and we get our
chequer, or chessboard
pattern, which, either as a
pattern complete in itself,
as in plaids and tartans,
or as a plan, or effect
motive in designing is,
as I have said, perhaps
the most universal and
imperishable of all pat-
terns, being found in as-
sociation with the design
of all periods, and still
surviving in constant use
among designers.

Let us follow the primitive rush mat a little
further, however. As it lay on the primitive
tent or hut floor its edges would take the sort of
form shown on the opposite page. In ancient
Assyrian, Egyptian, Persian, and Greek archi-
tecture we constantly find carved patterns used
as borderings and figures, .of the type given in
the Assyrian example. Now, comparing this
with the primitive matting, the suggestion is
very strong of the probability of derivation of
motive of patterns of this type from the same
constructive source originally. In some in-
stances (as on the enamelled tile from Assyria,
the border reverses itself, but with the Greeks
it finally took the upright direction, as in
the Anthemion or honeysuckle border forms ;
but, however afterwards varied and enriched

by floral form, its structural origin in plaited
work is always to be traced, and it seems
to gain from it a certain strength and adapt-
ability.

Another type of ornament may be traced to
the constructive necessities of wattle and wicker
work, so much used by primitive man in the
structure of his dwellings, and in primitive ob-
jects of use and service.

The various forms of volute, or spiral, and guil-
loche ornament, so much used by the ancients—
Assyrian, Egyptian, and Greek—may be com-
pared, in their structure and arrangement of
line, with the form taken by the withy, or cord
twisted around the upright canes or staves of
a wattled fence, as seen in horizontal section.
The primitive wattled structure gives the plans
of these patterns. It certainly appears to
account for their origin in a remarkably com-
plete way.

spiral or volute was metal in the form of the thin
beaten plates with which the primitive Greeks
covered parts of their interior walls (see patterns

Before metal was used, or nails or joinery
were known, the method of fastening two things
together, such as the blade of a stone axe or
hammer and its handle, was by thonging or

tying them firmly together by strips of leather
or thongs, and to this source again we might
trace other types of pattern motives of very wide
prevalence. In the first instances the thonging
was imitated in metal-work when no longer used

Chap. II.
Of the
Utility
Basis and
Influence

Ancient

Volute

Ornament

in the construction by way of ornament, as in Chap. ii.
various bronze implements existing ; but later, utility
starting from the tying and thonging motive, we Basis and
get all sorts of variations, as in the zigzag of
Norman arch mouldings, and in the earlier Celtic
knotted work, which seemed partly a re-echo of
some types of Eastern and classic ornament,
unless we regard it as independently derived,
like them, from primitive structure. It seems

SCUL|»TO«.6Cl JTor^ CoR>llCS
=\ iCtfPT.

■ RACK. i^ftowzE Kw.F^
TiTA'^AVe® .

to make itself felt again in a new variety in the
strap-work of our Elizabethan period, in which
the ornament apparently was a new blend of
Gothic with classical details, with an infusion of
oriental or Moorish feeling, filtered through
Italy and Spain.

As an instance of architectural ornament, the
motive of which seems taken from a piece of
common every-day usage, we may note the
frieze of the Roman circular Temple of the
Sybil at Tivoli, which is composed of the heads

Chap. II. of oxen, alternating with, and connected by, the
Utility curves of pendent floral garlands. To this day
Basis and in Italy almost anywhere one may see this
motive suggested by the appearance of the

Influence

country ox wagon as it approaches along the
road—the front view of the two oxen heads,
with the level yoke across their necks, and the
pendent connecting ropes hanging between.

It is probable, however, that whatever its
origin, its suggestion was sacrificial, since the

ox decked with garlands constantly figures in Chap. ii.
classical sculpture led before the altar to be slain, utility
and this circumstance may equally have given Basis and
rise to the sculptor's motive, just as we saw that
the custom of decking the cornice of the Greek
house with garlands suggested its perpetuation
in stone carving by the classical architects.

It will be noted that those primitive sources
to which we may trace motives in ornamental
design, however, afterwards developed on purely
ornamental lines, and because of their ornamental
value, all of them have their beginnings in actual
use and service, in physical and constructive
necessity, and that they are closely associated
with the form and character of the dwellings and
temples of man.

(2) Turning now to the second division of
our subject to consider "the effects upon form
and treatment of surface arising out of, or sug-
gested by, functional use," we shall still have to
keep close to the dwelling, and constantly to
remember the ever present architectural influ-
ence with the consideration of which we set out.

The angle of the pitch of the roof in buildings,
for instance, which is so marked a characteristic in
the different types of architecture, was originally
determined by the necessities of climate. One
might say broadly that the acute, high-pitched
Gothic roof means snow or bad weather, while
the low-pitched classic roof means sunshine for
the most part; or we might say that the one
typified winter and the other summer. A house
must still be built mainly for one or the other,
though by ingenuity and careful consideration of
the points of the compass in choosing the site
and planning, in the rare instances where free

choice is still possible, something may be, and
has been attempted, to fit all seasons ; and it is
this careful consideration of such points in our
ancient buildings—say the old English manor

houses, built to dwell in and to last—which gives
that sense of homelike comfort and pleasure to
the eye, perhaps, quite as much as the interest of
their ornamental detail. A sunny garden terrace
or arcaded front to the south to catch the winter
sun—cool and shady rooms to the north for the

summer—a sheltered porch to protect the guest chap. ii.
against the weather. Such contrivances as these
show that thought has been spent and care taken Basis and
in the planning and building ; that the builder or
designer has been influenced by considerations
of true utility—not in the bald and more modern
sense of mere money or time saving appliance,
but the truer economy of making a house livable.
Here is a sketch of one of those old stone halls

or manor houses of Derbyshire of the seven-
teenth century (Hazelford Hall), charmingly
placed upon a hillside, so as to fit into or become
part of the landscape, while it is really planned
to live comfortably in, with due regard to the
variation of the seasons and the winds. The
living rooms face south and west.

Houses nowadays seem more built to sell than
to live in (at least permanently), since I notice
that often when even people build a house for
themselves they constantly want to let it to

somebody else. I should think that the gipsy
van would suit modern habits exceedingly well.
It would be more picturesque than "a brick box
with a slate lid," to which most of us are com-
mitted, and probably much less expensive in the
long run. The only thing required to make it
practicable on any scale is a trifling alteration in
the land laws.

The origin of mouldings in architecture, as
their use in the capacity of dripstones declares,
was to serve a purely useful purpose—the alter-
nating concavity and convexity of the members
which generally characterize them affording
escapement for the rain water, and keeping it
away from the windows and doors.

To give a simple illustration of the principle.
If the sill of a window, for instance, be left rect-
angular and perfectly level, the water would be
likely to run inward through the window, or
perhaps into the wall, but if sloped on the upper
surface and hollowed beneath, the water would
tend to drop from the under outer edge clear of
both window and wall.

This necessity led to motives in design and
ornamental effect, and mouldings became valu-
able parts of aesthetic expression in architecture,
affording means of emphasis, of giving the effect
of receding planes, and of using the important
principle of recurring lines to which I called
attention in the first chapter.

The barge-board, too, so picturesque a feature
in old timbered houses, had the same useful
purpose to subserve in keeping the weather from
injuring roof and wall.

Staircases with the necessary handrail, again,
have led to beautiful form in design, not only in

interesting and varied design in the balusters Basis and
supporting the handrail, and in newel heads, etc.

Towers and church steeples, which form such
important and picturesque features in archi-
tectural (and, one might add, landscape) design,
owed their existence, in the first place, to the
necessities of watch, guard, and defence, and
probably also means of communication by signals.

being realized, was a highly organized arrange-
ment for mutual aid and defence, towers were
of great importance both for watch and defence.
They served as strong buttresses and vantage
posts placed at intervals along the inclosing city
wall, and flanking the gateways. The boldness
and grace of design in some mediaeval towers is
very notable. Those of Siena, for instance,
and that town of towers, San Gimignano, of
which I give a rough sketch to show the effect

from a distance of the clustering towers, like a
crown upon the hill top; above all, perhaps, is
the famous tower of the Signoria or Palazzo
Vecchio, the old city hall of Florence (thirteenth
century). The Belfry of Bruges (thirteenth
century), too, is another fine instance of boldness
and grace of design. It had formerly a spire,
which is shown in a sixteenth century picture,
the background of a portrait by Pourbus, a
Flemish painter, but the spire was twice de-
stroyed by fire, and was not renewed a third
time. But even as it stands the belfry is very
striking, and, while it commands a vast prospect

of the country
round, it is also
conspicuous all
over the town,
and a land-
mark to the flat
country round
about.

The towers of
our own ancient
village churches
are generally
battlemented,
and the square
ones often have
a corner turret
to give a more
commanding
view ; and this
again gives
variety, and is
a very pic-
turesque fea-
ture. The bat-
tlements them-
selves (though
intended for use
in defence) are
extremely orna-
mental features,
and give relief
and lightness
to the parapet.
In later Gothic
times they were
frequentlyfanci-

fully pieced and filled with ornament, as on
Magdalen Tower at Oxford. Their decorative
value was perceived by the wood carver of the

Gothic times, and they are constantly introduced
in tabernacle work, screens, and furniture, where
their use is purely decorative.

Chimneys, again, afford an instance of a
purely useful and serviceable object lending

Chap. II.
Of the
Utility
Basis and
Influence

Tower with

corner

Turret,

Axmouth

Church,

Devon

church, Hampshire. The common practice was
to have the fireplace in the centre of the hall
and let the smoke escape by a louvre in the roof,
as may still be seen in. the hall at Penshurst

Place in Kent (fourteenth century); but in later
times, especially in the Tudor period, the chim-
neys of brick are often found full of invention

and variety in design,
and extremely rich in
effect. I give sketches
of some characteristic
examples at Framling-
ham Castle and Leigh's
Priory.

The fine old brick
chimney stacks one finds
among the old farm-
steads of Essex it is sup-
posed were built first
and then the half-tim-
bered house built around
the brick stack.

Other useful things
connected with the fire-
side and the chimney
corner, which are re-
markable for their adapt-
ability in ornamental
design, are the iron fire-
dogs used to support the
burning logs. We find
them in great variety of
shape and treatment,
while their main or ne-
cessary lines remain the
same. It is the standard
or upright front part
which affords a field for the inventive craftsman
and designer. The fire-irons, too, are again
purely useful in their object, but have become

Chap. II.
Of the
Utility
Basis and
Influence

Brick
Chimney,
Framling-
ham Castle

The iron grate back (notably those of old
Sussex), placed at the back of the fire against
the chimney to protect the brick-work and radiate
the heat, had again a purely useful function, but
it has been the object of a great deal of fine and
rich decorative
design, chiefly of
a heraldic or em-
blematic charac-
ter, and many old
examples exist.
Cast iron has in
modern times ac-
quired a bad
name (artistically
speaking), but
this is owing to
its misapplication,
as in railings or
grills, where it en-
deavours to usurp
the place of
wrought iron. In
a flat panel or
plain surface, such
as a grate back affords, however, cast iron has a
singularly good effect, and renders bold designs
well. There are some fine heraldic grate backs
in cast iron to be seen at Cheetham's Hospital,
perhaps the most interesting building in the
City of Manchester.

I give a sketch of a quaint cast-iron chimney
back of Gothic design from Bruges. At the
Museum at the old Rath Haus there is a very

good collection of examples. Somehow, with
the modern, or rather mid-Victorian iron register
fireplace all beauty and interest of design is lost.
Though it should be remembered that a really
fine artist and designer like Alfred Stevens
spent his talents upon such things.

The conception of the thing, however, seems
joyless and ugly, and in most surviving examples
the ornament in endeavouring to be elegant
becomes frittered and mean ; and as to sheet-
iron stoves they seem to be under a ban of
hideousness, which seems sad when one recalls
the charming and cheerful earthenware stoves

of Germany of Gothic and Renascence times, full chap. ii.
of colour and invention. The revived use of utility
tiled chimney, and recessed and basket grates. Basis and
has done much to restore cheerfulness to our
hearths.

Before we leave the chimney corner I might
mention another bit of metal, important before
the days of kitchen ranges as the chief cooking
apparatus, I mean the iron crane that is some-

times found still suspended in the wide chimneys
of old farmhouses, made of wrought iron, twisted
and curled, and with bright bosses of steel upon
it, and great in hooks and hinges. Here is a
sketch of a typical example in an Essex farm-
house.

Considerations of use, again, very evidently
control design in lamps and candlesticks. A
lamp necessitates : (i) « reservoir for the oil, and
a neck and mouth to hold the wick, and (3) a
67

firm and steady stand. All these requisites are
combined, with addition of handle, in the oldest
and simplest form of lamp—the portable antique
lamp to be carried in the hand. The reservoir
is there, though small, and needing- re-filling
from a larger vessel (as was the case in the
parable of the ten virgins).

These lamps were often placed upon the top
of slender fluted tripod stands, to give light in
the house, or hung in clusters by chains from a
branched stand like a tree. A combination of
many of the characteristics of the antique lamp
is found in the comparatively modern brass
Roman lamp (now called antique, but till within
a few years, and I believe still, commonly used
by the people): we have the small reservoir,
with four necks for the wicks, closely resembling
in form the antique hand lamps. This is pierced
by the shaft of the stand, which finishes in a
ring handle at the top and terminates in a broad
moulded stand, so that the lamp can be used for
carrying or standing with equal facility. The
little implements for trimming, snuffing, and
extinguishing are suspended by small chains
from the neck of the standard and add to the
ornamental effect. Each part is made separately
and screws together.

With the modern powerful lamps of mineral
oil and circular wicks, much larger reservoirs
are required, and modern lamps have tended to
take the urn shape owing to this necessity, and
they lose in beauty of line generally as they
gain in body (much like people). A satisfactory
type has been introduced by Mr. W. A, S.
Benson, of copper, with a copper fan-like shade,
which is generally a difficulty with a modern

lamp; and the glasses also, while necessary, Chap. ii.
complicate the design and cannot be said to add Stmty
to the beauty, as a rule.

However, a lamp design can never get away
from the primitive triple conditions of lamp
structure with which we saw in its earliest form
reservoir, neck for the wick, and stand—possibly
handle—but within these demands of utility
there is scope for very great variations, and
unlimited taste and invention.

The candlestick, with which the hand lamp
has something in common, is, however, quite dis-
tinct in character, seeing that it is formed to
hold the combustible part in a solid, instead of
a liquid form. Its requirements, therefore, are
a firm stand (like the lamp), a reasonable height,
on which to raise the light, another to hold
the candle, and something to catch the melting
grease.

These conditions are satisfied in the form of
the antique brass candlestick, but still better in
the older Gothic form, or the church candle-
stick, which has a spike on which to hold the
candle, instead of a hollow. A candlestick,
therefore, should be true to its name and remain
a stick, or moulded tubular column, though
capable of development into the candelabrum,
throwing out branches for extra lights from the
central stem ; a suggestive form, if sufficiently
restrained, designed with taste.

The ancient hanging brass candelabra of the
sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries,
or earlier, are very good in form as well as
practical. There is a fine Gothic one in Van
Eyck's picture in the National Gallery, Jan
Arnolfini and his Wife.

utmty German one. The stem is surrounded by the
Basis and double eagle, and there are several tiers of
mouldings, the larger ones being flat, and cut
into notches at the edge to serve as sockets
to receive the corresponding part of the branch,
which fits on to them and supports the candles.
These are arranged in two tiers of six lights
each, and between each light occurs a little
ornamental branch or finial, the whole being-
detachable from the hanging stem terminating
in a brass sphere which keeps it straight and
steady. It is a fine example of good, simple,
and practicable design, which should always
unite necessity and utility with beauty.

For carrying about, a candlestick needs the
addition of a broad dish-like stand and handle,
while the stick itself is kept low ; hardly so
attractive a form as the stationary columnar
table candlestick, and yet having decided char-
acter and purpose of its own.

That old-fashioned and most picturesque
companion of candlesticks, the snuffers, are often
very beautiful in design, and it seems to me
that, however " improved," the wicks of modern
candles still require some attention from them.

The necessity of protecting light affords in
lanterns opportunities for the inventive adapt-
ability of the designer in glass and metal.

I met with a very pretty and original motive
in a German museum (at Lindau) which was
hexagonal in form, pieces of glass fitted together
by leads forming a globe-like body to hold the
light, and terminating above in a neck, from
which it hung to a bracket by a ring. It was
furnished with a tripod stand in iron, so that it

There is plenty of room for invention in
lanterns, and it seems a pity that our street
lamp, which is practically a standard lantern,

should remain so extremely prosaic, when it
is a design so constantly repeated. It is not
so much the plainness, since one needs no
extraneous ornament if the purpose is well
served by a structure of good lines. The neces-
sity of cleaning the glass is probably a hin-
drance to much variety of form in the present
state of things, and then, too, the electric light
is coming into general use, bringing with it an
entirely fresh set of conditions, so that before
we get our ideal gas-lamp the necessity for it
will probably have disappeared altogether, so to
speak.

The idea of suspension and absence of rigidity
or weight associated with electric lighting ought,
one would think, to be suggestive to designers,
but we don't seem yet to have quite shaken off
the conditions of gas tubing on the one hand,
or to have got much beyond the somewhat
well-worn idea of bell-flowers bursting into in-
candescence on the other. One almost prefers
the naked simplicity of the little pear-shaped
glasses, with their incandescent twist of thread
suspended at the end of the covered wires, to the
flamboyant excesses in brass and copper electric
fittings sometimes seen.

One might go on through the whole range of
objects of domestic use, and multiply instances
of beauty and designing invention applied to the
humblest utensil, implement, or accessory, and
suggested by the characteristic features stamped
upon its form by the necessities and demands of
daily use, which must never be lost sight of by
the artist. Not a single thing that we touch or
use but has had an enormous amount of human
thought and ingenuity brought to bear upon it,

which has determined its form as we see it, and chap. ii.
which is constantly modifying form and material
and character.

The present modifying influences, the direc-
tion in which human ingenuity mostly seems to
work is in the time-saving, cost-saving, labour-
saving direction, or would-be so, and under this
influence design of articles or objects of pure
utility have a tendency to become very prosaic
—or, perhaps, vulgarly assertive. It is the
commercial instinct, no doubt, which is satisfied
if a knife is a knife and will cut, or at any rate
will sell, and puts no romance into either blade
or handle. The old curved blades have dis-
appeared, and only the silver knife receives
any ornament, and that generally of a very
uninteresting type. This prosaic tendency re-
presents the mechanical side of the utility in-
fluence, which only reaches beauty, if beauty of
line merely, by necessity of use; though under
what I should term ike short-mt inspi7^ation
beauty is generally entirely out of the question.
This is to be deplored, since the simplest thing
of use may be just as well made pleasing and
good in form and line, though that may be the
only kind of beauty possible to it.

When we come to pottery the utility and
adaptation to service influence is very obvious.
Look at the form of a water-vessel, a pitcher we
will say, as a typical form. It must have a large
hollow body to hold as much water as can be
conveniently carried by a single person, but not
more than its handle or handles will lift. It
must have a neck for pouring out. A rounded
form is found to be more convenient for carrying
than a square, and is easier to balance in the

hand or on the head. The soft clay, too, readily
takes the circular form on the wheel when the
pitcher is formed under the hands of the potter ;
and the rounded form may be diminished
towards the base, which saves weight, and at the
same time gives opportunity for grace of line.
Its form at once expresses its purpose of carry-
ing and pouring. A nobler form is seen in
the Greek hydria—a large three-handed water-
vessel, adapted for carrying and pouring. It was
carried on the head or the shoulders, the two
side horizontal handles enabled it to be lifted up
and down, while its vertical handle served the
function of pouring.

We may note the similarity in contour
and proportion of the Greek amphora or wine-
vessel, to the lines of a woman's figure. It
is, perhaps, the most graceful of the antique
forms of vessels, and it seems dimly reflected
even in the purely prosaic form of the modern
botde.

We might trace through all the various forms
of vessels the clue of utility, and note how it
determines their typical form as they are adapted,
like the hydria or pitcher, for carrying and
potL7^ing: the amphora or ancient wine-bottle for
keeping wine cool in the earth in portable quan-
tities : the bucket type for dipping and carrying :
the funnel type for filling.

The copper water-vessel of the Roman people
seems to combine the functions of bucket and
pitcher in a highly picturesque way, and its
form enables a quantity to be carried on the
head.

The drinking vessel again shows quite a
different type of form, and in all its varieties

In the bottle we approach again the type of
the pitcher, the holding and pouring functions
being again emphatic, throughout all its many

shapes. The illustration shows a selection of
the typical forms I have mentioned.

The subject of the typical forms of vessels
is very clearly illustrated in Meyer's " Handbook
of Ornament," to which I may refer the student
who wishes to pursue the subject further.

refer to a curious correspondence in design mo-
tive in two different materials.

The ordinary Italian oil or wine flask is one
of the most charming of modern useful vessels.
11 is simply a piece of blown glass of the form first
assumed by the molten glass when blown at the
end of the glass-worker's tube. To make this
primitive but elegant bottle portable and enable it

to stand, it is bound around by a twist of rushes, chap. ii.
or cane leaves twisted into a circular stand, and utility
braced by vertical broader bands of the untwisted Basis and
leaf at intervals, and a loop of the twist is twined
around the neck, and left free to hang up or
carry the vessel in. The whole is both highly
practical and picturesque.

This is a type of Venetian glass bottle or
decanter highly ornamented, in which the funda-
mental motive or idea of the protecting binding
of rushes seems to be followed in glass. The

melon-like divisions are defined by strings of
raised glass laid on the surface, while the panels
between are engraved in arabesques of leaves
and birds, and the whole forms a very pretty
piece of ornate glass design. (See illustration.)

Here we have another instance of decorative
motive derived from useful function, and of the
adaptation in one material of a suggestion de-
rived from another, though applied to the same
type of form.

I have not mentioned the plate or dish type
of vessel, which has on the whole, perhaps,
received the most attention from the decorator
of surfaces, perhaps on account of the more pic-
torial conditions its functional form presents.

There is a circular flat or concave surface in
the centre of the dish, plate, or placque to hold
the food; and there is a circular space or rim
for the hand, a border which will serve both as
a frame to the central subject, and also to
emphasize the edge. The Greek cylix, though
really a shallow drinking cup, presents similar
conditions to the designer, though more of the
shallow boat or saucer type, and in the filling
of these spaces the Greek vase-painter, as far

as composition of line, dramatic action of figure,
simplicity, and the necessary flatness and reserve
sets us the best models in this kind of design.

The Italian Renascence majolica and lustre
ware give more sumptuous effect and more
pictorial treatment, but are not nearly so safe a
guide in taste as the Greek.

In pure ornament we cannot do better than
study oriental models for the treatment of border
and centre, and in the blue and white ware of
China and Persia we shall find as satisfactory
examples of decorative fitness as need be.
The Chinese influence is freely and often very
happily rendered in the blue and white ware of
Delft, and in some of the works of the old
English potteries, as Worcester and Derby for
instance.

In textile design the functions of border, of
field or filling, of wearing apparel, or furniture
hangings and materials and their necessary
adaptation to vertical or horizontal positions,
differentiates the various types and classes of
design in woven or printed stuffs. Here use
again influences and decides decorative motive.

We recognize at once the essential differences
of expression in different pattern plans and
systems of line in horizontal extension, which
mark them off as suitable for borders demand-
ing linear, or meandering, or running patterns
to fulfil their function of defining the edge, as in
a garment or hanging, or in pottery, or forming a
setting for the centre, as in a carpet.

For these reasons, bearing in mind the con-
structive suggestion of their origin, the typical
examples given of border systems have held
their own from the earliest times as funda-

Chap. II. sistent, have held, and still hold, their place in
Utility ^^^ world of design. These latter, too, it will
Basis and be noticed, are all constructed upon, or con-
trolled by, the same basis—the rectangular
diaper.

There seems something fixed and fundamental
about these linear constructive bases of pattern
design from the point of view of what might be
termed decorative or linear logic, and apart
from their origin in actual constructive necessity
before spoken of, and, as far as soundness of
principle can guide us in designing, we cannot
go wrong in obeying them, however various
the superstructure of floral fancy we may build
upon them. The acknowledgment of the prin-
ciple alone, of course, will not make us suc-
cessful designers, any more than the skeleton
makes a living figure. We cannot do without
thought, fancy, and vivifying imagination, guided
by the sense of beauty, as well as of use, to
produce design worth having in any direction.

To fully and adequately trace out this clue
of utility through all the varieties of the vast
province of artistic design would need, not a
single chapter, but a large and amply illustrated
volume. I have only attempted to call your
attention to certain typical forms and instances
where the bearings of the necessities of use and
service have decided those forms, and must
always influence the decorative designer, who
should never forget them for a moment.

Nothing has degraded the form of common
things so much as a mistaken love of ornament.
The production of things of beauty for ordinary
use has declined with the gradual separation of
artist and craftsman. Decoration, or ornament,

PEftSlSP
E14T

PATreRK

PLAH5

ReCTAN=

GULm

BA51S.

Chap. II. we have been too much accustomed to consider
mmty ^^ accidental and unrelated addition to an ob-
Ba^sis and ject, not as an essential expression and organic
part of it; not as a beauty which may satisfy tis
in simple line, form, orpropoi^'tion, combined with
fitness to purpose, even withotit any surface orna-
ment at all. The more we are able to keep
before our minds the place and purpose of any
design we have to make, the more we realize the
conditions of use and service of which it must be
a part, as well as the capacities of the material
of which it is to be made ; and the more we
understand its constructive necessities, the more
successful our design is likely to be, and the
nearer we shall approach to bridging the un-
fortunate gulf which too often exists between
the designer and the craftsman.

WE have seen (i) that architectural con- chap. iii.
siderations lie at the basis of design fnVuence of
and control its general character, its scale, and Material
relationships ; and (2) that utility determines and Method
specializes its particular forms and functions ;
now, as our third proposition, we may say that,
in addition to these in limitation of material and
methods of workmanship, we shall find the
influences which determine primarily the purely
artistic question of treatment in design, and
which differentiates its classes and varieties.

If we look at a piece of stone-carving and
compare it with a piece of wood-carving, for
instance,—or, still better, take mallet and chisel
in hand and experiment upon a piece of stone
or marble, and try to evolve or to express a
form by these means, and with a chisel, or knife,
work upon wood—we shall soon find that the
differences of the quality of the two substances
upon which we work—the differences of density,
toughness, resistance to the tool—at once demand
different methods of handling each. Short,
quick following strokes in the case of chiselling
stone, and a longer, steady sort of pushing or
driving movement, the chisel being held in both

hands, in the case of wood-carving. From such
necessary and fundamental differences the artist
would soon develop a distinct style in the treat-

ment of each kind of work. He would not
attempt to make the stone look like wood, or
persuade the wood to look like stone ; but he
would rather rejoice in their fundamental dif-

Chap. III.
Of the
Influence of
Material
and Method

Corbel,

XlVth

century,

Dennington

Church,

Suffolk

ferences of quality, and make his work in Chap. iii.
each emphasize their essential and distinctive fnVue^nce of
characteristics. These different characteristics Material
are shown in the design and treatment of the Method
carved stone corbel given, as compared with the
misereres in wood. The stone-work being also
controlled by the necessity of the jointing in
the masonry.

In handling soft materials, like modelling clay,
for instance, we encounter quite a different set
of conditions. There is much less restriction of

material and method, although the plasticity of
the clay brings its own difficulties of manipulation
with it. Modelling, indeed, it is soon perceived,
is the reverse of carving, since in carving form
is produced by cutting away, in modelling form
is produced by building up (or adding to);
surface being gained in the first case by delicate
chiselling of sharp tools upon a close-grained,
tough material, and in modelling by a delicate-
pressure of the fingers, or tools, upon a soft and
sensitive clay.

Clay modelling, again, not being a final form,
but rather a preparatory stage in design, bears

to bronze, or plaster, much the same relationship
as a design or drawing on paper for reproduction
by a particular process bears to its finished form
in the material for which it is intended. Clay-
has, it is true, after firing, a permanent form in
terra-cotta, which of course thoroughly illustrates
the freedom and naturalism of treatment of
which it is capable ; on the one hand associating
itself with domestic use and adornment, kindred
with the work of the painter, and on the other

uniting itself with architecture, and being adapt-
able to all kinds of enrichment upon brick build-

The adaptability and plasticity of clay, again,
is shown in what might be called its fundamental
capacity as thrown upon the potter's wheel. Here,
under the steady revolution of the horizontal
circular disk, or wheel, controlled and held in. its
place by the left hand of the potter, while he
manipulates and varies the form with the right,
we see how readily the clay obeys the law of the
circular pressure and movement, and how, in

obedience to it, every variety of form which the
history of pottery displays becomes possible to
it in the hands of a skilful and tasteful craftsman.
Manual skill of a very accomplished kind is de-
manded in throwing, as anyone may see for him-
self by trying to form a vessel upon the wheel,
simple as the operation looks, controlled by a
purely mechanical movement. Then, in addi-

tion to dexterity in manipulating the clay and
skill in forming the vessel truly, and of an
even thickness, there is room for any amount of
artistic judgment and taste in deciding the final
form, or section, which the vessel shall take; and
again, in the design and use of such ornament
as shall express its form and office, or give it an
additional decorative surface beauty.

Chap. III. clay is soft, or with raised moulding and edges,
fnVuence of relief work, we are still carrying out the

Material fundamental suggestiveness of the material and
and Method j^^y j^g called its natural method ; and we

find that ornamentation upon pottery in its earliest
development took the form of indented zigzag
borders and patterns, and to this day in some
kinds of German pottery, and that known as
Gres de Flandres, we find the patterns indented
in outline and filled afterwards with the blue
colour and glazed ; the modern Egyptian red
clay pots are ornamented with indented, cut,
and raised patterns ; while in the homely brown
jug of our English potteries, we see the applica-
tion of the principle of relief work in the quaint
figures stamped upon the surface, pleasing
enough, though without any reference to classic
dignity or proportion. ^

of stamping the pattern upon a clay vessel in
this German pitcher from Rothenburg (see p. 85),
bought from the workshop of the potter himself,
who m.ade the pots of the local clay, fired them,
and glazed them himself, and finally was his
own salesman—an instructive combination of
functions not often found in our own country.

With wax, modelling can be carried to a
greater degree of fineness and sharpness of
detail, especially upon a small scale. It is a
material, therefore, which lends itself to model-
ling for bronze and other fine metal castings, to
medals and coinage, as well as to small figures,
lamps, various vessels and ornaments ; and also
to large scale, highly finished statues, especially
when intended to be cast by the cera perdtita
or lost wax method, by which the molten metal

from the furnace is made to flow into the mould, chap. iii.
to take the place of the wax of the model, the ^fl\ience of
wax of course melting^ and flowingf out through Material
the vents contrived for the purpose.

clay first. Then a plaster piece-mould is taken,
and into the inside of this, when taken off, the
wax is pressed, so as to line it completely, A
framework or skeleton of iron bars having been
constructed to support the weight, the hollow
mould inside the wax lining or skin, which repre-
sents the thickness of the bronze statue, is then

Chap. III. filled up with a core composed of brick-dust
influMice of plaster, mixed in a paste and poured in.

Material The ducts to enable the molten bronze to flow
and Method pj-Qpgj-jy Jj^j-q ^j^g mould are then arranged, with
vents for the escape of the melted wax and air.
The plaster piece-mould is then carefully taken
off, and the statue is disclosed in wax. This
wax surface can then be finally finished by the
modeller before the whole statue is covered in
with another mould made of a fine paste of bone
ash and Tripoli powder and other ingredients,
and then it is bedded in earth or sand, and the
bronze being mixed and melted in the furnace, it
is run out into the ducts of the mould, and when
cool the mould is broken off, and the bronze,
taking the place of the wax which is melted and
escapes, .the statue is complete.

Thus a complete and perfect casting is ob-
tained of the work, it being only necessary
to stop the places where the ducts and vents
were fixed, which by ingenuity could be arranged
to occur in the less important parts. Cera
perduta, as its name indicates, is an old Italian
method, and was used by Benvenuto Cellini,
and has been revived by Mr. George Simonds,
who has given an account of it, and by our
younger school of sculptors, Messrs. Alfred
Gilbert, Onslow Ford, Harry Bates, and others,
in place of the method of casting without the
use of the wax, which entailed a great deal of
surface work and chasing upon the hard bronze,,
so that the delicate modelled surface—the touch
of the artist, in short—was lost, but it is just this
which is preserved by the lost wax process, so
that it is a method which favours artistic model-
ling, since it perpetuates it in bronze with greater

in gates, and railings. Now we may consider
that the designer in iron has a material to deal

Chap. III.
Of the
Influence of
Material
and Method

Bronze
Statue of
Louis XV.
by Bou-
chardon,
showing
distribution
of ducts and
vents ^

Wrought

Iron-work,

Nuremberg

•WROUtlHT •
IRONWORK.-

•CATHEDR.7^1^
■OF

. S.L7\WR6NCE
• NUREMBUR.C

Chap. III. main framework ; we may use rigid verticals and
?nfl^enceof horizontals in forming our grill. A simple
Material square trellis is the fundamental grill, but we

capable of being twisted at its ends into spiral
curves under heat, with the pincers (or even
without, if thin). It is also capable of being
beaten out with the hammer into flattened
leaf forms, which again, by heating, can be
worked and elaborated, and parts joined by
welding in great variety of form. But we may
consider primarily that the designer in iron
starts with the bar, the spiral curve, and the flat
leaf, or even only the first two. These are his
units out of which he constructs his pattern ;
his pencils are the hammer and pincers, his easel
is the vice, his medium is the forge. His busi-
ness is to make a harmony in iron, and these
are his notes, his treble and bass. His success
will depend, firstly, upon the effectiveness
with which he contrives to meet the funda-
mental purpose of the grill or gate, that it shall
be a sensible and practical grill or gate to begin
with ; secondly, his lines and curves, however
simple, must be harmoniously arranged, so that
the eye is satisfied at the same time as the con-
structive sense; and thirdly, any invention or
play of fancy which he can super-add without
injuring the first two considerations will be so
much to the good, and to his credit, and the
common pleasure.

It is well, however, to test our powers by
simple problems at first. If we cannot combine
a great variety of attractive forms harmoniously,
and fit them to useful purpose, let us try what
we can do with few and simple forms. If we

fail at constructing gates of Paradise let us see Chap. iii.
if we cannot make a good railing. If we cannot J^ffl^ue^nce of
invent a romantic knocker, let us try our hands Material
at an effective scraper. It is much better to do Method
a simple thing well, than a complex or ambitious
thing badly ; and there is far more need in the
world for well-designed and beautiful common
things than for elaborate exceptional things.

A study of iron-work should be useful to all
students in design, as showing what ornamental
effects can be gained by economy of means, the
effectiveness of simply repeating well-chosen
curves, spirals, and lines ; as well as the amount
of fantasy and feeling which an inventive de-
signer and craftsman can put into such work in
its more complex and elaborate forms, and,
above all, how perfectly it may be made to
unite serviceableness and beauty ; while, perhaps
more conspicuously than most kinds of artistic
work, it illustrates the essential unity of material
and method with their results in design.

The illustrations given exemplify different
varieties of treatment, and also show how de-
sign in iron-work, in addition to the influence
of the material, is controlled by the spirit and
period of the architecture of which it becomes
part.

We see this in comparing the free Gothic and
rather fantastic forms of the gates of the south
porch of S. Laurence at Nuremberg with the
symmetric and formal screen from S. Thomas's,
Salisbury (seventeenth or eighteenth century),
or both with the flowing Renascence scroll
balustrade from Rothenburg.

A most important branch of design is that of
textiles, whether we regard it in its close asso-

ciation with daily life and the wants of humanity,
with domestic comfort, personal adornment, or
ecclesiastical splendour. It is, perhaps, the most

intimate of the arts of design, and here again we
shall find the control of material and method
always asserting themselves.

Chap. III.
Of the
Influence of
Material
and Method

Part of
Altar Screen
in Wrought
Iron, Church
of S.Thomas,
Salisbury

two main kinds : (i) that which is an incorporated chap. iii.
part of the textile itself, as in woven patterns, fnyuence of
carpets, and tapestry; and (2) that which is Material
designed as a surface decoration to be printed Method
or worked on the textile, as in cotton, cloth,
cretonne, silk, velvet, and embroidery.

Into the many technicalities and complexities
of the modern power-loom it is not now neces-
sary to enter; but the main essential conditions
it is always necessary for the textile designer
to have in mind are that his design has to be
produced by the crossing of threads in the
loom, by warp and weft, as the sets of threads

Chap. III. are called. The warp being- the vertical threads,
fnVuence of ^fining the web and foundation of the fabric ;

In the simple low warp hand-loom, the warp
being in two sets, the alternate threads are lifted
by the heddles alternately. These heddles are
connected with treadles worked by the feet of
the weaver, who, with his hand, ' passes his
shuttle with the woof backwards and forwards
through the interstices thus left, and weaves
the plain cloth. To make patterns, various
wefts in different colours are added. This
is the fundamental simple principle of weav-
ing, which in a still simpler form may be seen
in the making of tapestry and carpets in the
high warp loom, where the threads of the
warp are stretched vertically upon rollers in a
framework, at which the worker sits and works
in by his hands the different colours of the
pattern horizontally, twisting and knotting the
threads in through the warps on which the pattern
has been marked, and pressing it together by
a sort of comb to make it firm and solid ; as
the fabric is completed it is rolled up upon the
roller.

Penelope is seen working at such a loom in
a Greek vase painting. The simple hand-loom,
as it was in the seventeenth century, is seen in
the figure taken from Erasmus's " Praise of
Folly."

What chiefly concerns the designer in woven
textiles, therefore, is that he must be prepared for
the necessity that his design must adapt itself
to working out upon a square trellis of horizontal
and vertical lines, which will represent his out-

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lines, or the edges of his masses, in stepped
Influence of Outlines and edges, where the design crosses the
Material warp diagonally at any angle, and in straight
lines where it runs with the warp ; since it may
be said that pattern on woven cloth is produced
by leaving out, or stopping out, certain threads
in the wefts, disclosing one set in one place and
another in another; such threads corresponding
with the holes cut in the cards placed in the
loom to regulate the pattern, which are prepared
from the design, after it has been worked out
on squared paper to calculated intervals and
numbers of threads or points to each line and
mass of the pattern.

Now, so far from wishing to conceal the char-
acteristic flatness and squareness of outline and
mass, which the nature of the conditions of
weaving normally produce, the artist values
these characteristics as essential to the work,
and would make his design adaptable to them.

The most beautiful and decorative effects
are produced in woven textiles by the contrast,
harmony, and blending of coloured threads, wool,
or silk, and the relief of one flat colour upon
another, or one flat tint upon another shade of
the same tint, so that anything like attempts at
naturalistic drawing, and the representation of
planes of light and shade and relief can only be
clumsy, owing to the nature of the conditions,
besides being mistaken, from the point of view
of good pattern-work.

There are no better masters in the selection
and treatment of natural forms in textile design
than the Persians, who, in their magnificent
carpets, show both the extreme of graceful con-
ventional pattern, and also a happy mean in the

Chap. III. treatment of flowers, trees, and animals, exhibit-
inVue^nce of their drawing and colour definite character-

ization rather than naturalism; translating nature,
as it were, and allying it with invention in a
distinct region of their own. To do this is really
what all designers should aim at, in whatsoever
material they may work.

When we come to the second division of
textile design, that in which pattern is applied
to the surface of the cloth after it has been woven,
by means of printing, the designer is chiefly
controlled by considerations of scale and beauty
of effect, as he has to adapt his design to various
purposes, such as hangings and furniture cover-
ings, or small dress patterns, kerchiefs, and so
forth. Beyond the necessary limit of size of
repeat and its satisfactory construction, he is
freer than in designing for woven textiles ; and,
in fact, has about as much range as any other
surface designer in colours.

It is considered a practical and economic
advantage that a design should adapt itself to
printing in many different schemes of colour, and
be capable of treatment on a light or dark ground.
In larger scale patterns, such as furniture cre-
tonnes, patterns or parts of patterns are pro-
duced by a mordant or resist; that is to say,
the light parts are printed in a mordant or
chemical preparation which takes out the dye,
and so discloses in those parts the natural colour
of the cotton cloth. Similar effects can be
produced by the reverse method of printing the
cloth first with a resist and dyeing or printing
the whole afterwards.

The methods and machinery of printing cotton
have been carried to great perfection, and the

necessary limitations as to what effects can or chap. iii.
cannot be done are very few, what is done being fnVuence of
largely regulated by considerations of cost. These Material
apparent advantages, however, from the artistic ^^^ Method
point of view, expose us to new dangers. We
may easily lose sight of the end in the very perfec-
tion of the means; the very facility of those means
may lead the designer to forget that, after all, he
is designing for a textile—something which will
be hung in folds, variously draped, or worn. The
desire to show the capacity of the method of
printing a pattern in colours may not always
be on all fours with the wish for tasteful design
and reposeful effect. The fierce competition of
trade, and the violent demands of the salesman,
do not harmonize with the judgment of the
artist. If you were in a company where all were
talking at once at the top of their voices you
would have to shout very loudly if you wanted
to be heard, but no one would contend that these
were the best conditions for the human voice.
It is, however, a tolerably just simile of the
present conditions of trade and their effect upon
design. So long as things are made primarily
to sell, rather than to last and live with, there
will always be this difficulty and disparity be-
tween art and commerce; but a school of art
can only concern itself with what are the best
methods, and endeavour always to set up the
best types of design, the best standards of taste.

If we want to represent flowers, for instance,
in their natural superficial aspects of light and
shade and relief, the natural form for such
renderings is the still life study; the natural
means, the canvas, palette, and brushes, or
Whatman and water-colour; the natural equip-

Chap. III. ment, power of graphic drawing and knowledge
irffluence of ^^ pictoHal effect. But, whatever value, pictorial
Material interest, and charm such studies may have, as
and Method charm of treatment, with the free-

dom of handling open to the pictorial artist,
and with the direct personal touch, the value,
pictorial interest, and charm and beauty would
be entirely lost if they were done by the yard, !

rendering of hand-painting, and it is therefore a
mistaken application of it to try. It requires
no special artistic feeling or training to recognize
a bunch of roses or poppies thrown in exag- i

gerated relief on a flat surface; but it does require
both to appreciate a design made of the same
flowers, composed and coloured harmoniously
in an ingenious repeat, and drawn firmly and
delicately with an understanding of the character t

and construction of the plants, yet treated with
fancy and invention, and, at the same time,
meeting perfectly the nature of the material and
the method of manufacture. These qualities I ;

should enumerate as the real necessities in de-
signing for printed fabrics, whether it is cotton
cloth printed from the pattern engraved on
copper rollers, or furniture cretonne printed from
flat blocks. In either case, in providing the ^

design, firmness and sharpness of line would be
good, and precision of touch in laying in the
colour.

The embroiderer, again, is comparatively free chap. iii.
as to range of choice in treatment of surface fnfluenceof
design, which will be necessarily governed by Material
purpose, position, and nature of material and Method
method employed. The bold design and large
scale detail which would be suitable for bed
hangings and curtains in crewel work, such as
we find in the Queen Anne period, would be
obviously out of place in small panels of delicate
fine silk-work. A greater approach to the
colours and surfaces of nature, too, in silk-work
may be attempted, as in the plumage of birds
and the petals of flowers, as we see in Chinese
and Japanese silk embroideries, though the
decorative principle of shading one colour with
other tints of the same should be followed when
shading is used, keeping the colour pure and
brilliant, and never using black or brown for
shadows on colours.

A certain natural convention, we might say,
belongs to the conditions of material and method
in embroidery, and is inseparable from the art of
the expression of form by stitches. Following
the same principle of such acknowledgment ol
necessary limitations which we find hold good in
other decorative arts, the essential stitch method
of the embroiderer should be rather emphasized
than concealed, although it does not follow that
in preparing designs to be embroidered the
stitches need be all represented, so long as the
design is clear and plain, and the outlines dis-
tinct ; while in the choice of the direction of the
stitches, as well as in their form and character,
must be found the particular means of expressing
varieties of surface and characteristics of form.
In ma;king leaves, for instance, one would natur-

ally make the stitches radiate from the centre chap. iii.
towards the point, while the character of tree fnVuence of
stems is well expressed by carrying- the stitches Material

crossways over others laid vertically nrst, as, in
addition to the suggestion of lines of bark, the
double row of stitches has the effect of suggest-
ing the projection of a rounded stem. For
filling in large masses, or for meandering types
of patterns and scroll-work, or bold outline,
chain-stitch is very useful, and has a compact,
solid effect. It is much used in Indian em-
broideries. The introduction of gold thread,
so much found in all oriental embroidery, en-
riches and heightens the effects of the colours
very much, and on the unbleached linens and
muslins, where the pattern is quite light, it has
a charming effect. The Japanese make very
effective use of gold thread embroidery, in some
cases carrying the whole of the work out in gold
upon a dark ground, or using it as a partial
enrichment on printed textiles such as kimonos
or robes ; in other kinds, notably in dark, rich,
full-coloured embroidered hangings, by intro-
ducing disks of gold thread, formed by stitching
the thread down upon the ground in closely
twisted spiral forms, which catch the light very
effectively when hung upon the wall.

There is, indeed, in the embroiderer's art im-
mense range of both treatment and subject. It
may be light and delicate, and restricted to one
or two colours, or vie in fulness, richness, and
depth of colour and splendour of effect with
tapestry itself. It may adorn a child's quilt, or
decorate an altar ; it may touch the hem of a
garment, or inform the cover of a book ; nothing
seems to be above or below it; and throughout

its manifold adaptations it offers an attractive
field to the designer and the worker who is not
afraid of patient but not unrewarding labour.

As further exemplifying the influence of mate-
rial and method, I may just touch upon another

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art, in our days the most popular and far-
reaching, perhaps, of all—the art of design in
black and white for the book and the newspaper.

Now, the early woodcut as we find it in the
printed books of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries owed its forms and qualities to the

114

necessities of surface printing with types in a
hand-press. The vigorous, bold drawing with influence of
the pen on the wood-block was cut by the en-
graver with a knife and on the plank, not as
now, upon the cross section of the box tree : softer
wood, too, was at first probably used. The

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artistic relation. The decorative effect of the
early printers' pages is remarkably fine, and is
obtained by very simple means.

With the decline of the severe and vigorous
drawing of the great designers of the late Gothic
and early Renascence period, and probably also
with the invention of copper-plate engraving

engraver s
knife left
the artist's
line firmer,
perhaps,
than it was
drawn, and
the design
in vigorous
open line
was exactly
adapted to
print under
the same
pressure as
the

and printing, and the more rapid production of
books, the art of the book printer declined, and
the art of the book decorator with it; and al-
though the woodcut still held its place, and was
largely used for the next two centuries, and,
indeed, down to our own time, in book orna-
ments, initial letters, and illustrations, it had
fallen into inferior hands.

At the end of last century a sort of revival
took place under Thomas Bewick and his school,
which led, not to a revival of the firm and open
linear drawing of the designers of the early
printers, but rather to a search after extra fine-
ness and qualities of tone and colour, hitherto
associated with steel or copper-plate. This
tendency or aim of the engravers, however, only
served to put the woodcut out of relation with
the type, and the type itself grew uglier, and
was hardly considered as part of the artistic
character of the book. William Blake seems to
have been the only artist who made any attempt
to consider the necessary relation of illustration
and type, but he did it by means of copper-
plate, and writing his own lettering.

It is only recently that a serious effort has.
been made to re-establish the old relationship
between design and text in surface printing and
as applied to books. Our newspapers and illus-
trated journals still print heavy black blocks, re-
produced from wash drawings, along with thin
pale type ; and the tendency of the recent new
photographic processes of reproducing the de-
signs of artists has rather been to dislocate the
decorative feeling and the relationship of type
and picture aforesaid, by imposing no restrictions
of material or method in preparing drawings for

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Mr. William Morris, by his personal experi-
ment and practice of printing, approaching it
from the designer's point of view, has again
placed the printing of books in the position of an

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art. By practical demonstration in the beautiful
results of his work—in the beautiful books he has
issued from the Kelmscott Press—he shows us
what very fine decorative effects can be got by
careful consideration of the form of the letters,
by the placing of the type upon the page, by
the use of good handmade paper, by the use of
ornaments and initial letters of rich and bold
design, harmonizing with the strength and rich-
ness of the type (which makes the ordinary
types look pale and thin). His work, too, is
obviously influencing printers and publishers
generally, so that something like a renascence
in printing and in design and decoration in
black and white has been going on during the
last few years.

Certainly a return to the practice of drawing
in line is good, not only as a test of design
and draughtsmanship, and absolutely necessary
to all designers, but also as essential to designs
or illustrations intended to contribute to the
decorative character of the printed page.

In the various instances, therefore, to which
I have drawn attention, we have seen that
design in its many forms and applications must
be reconciled to certain limitations of material
and method ; but that, so far from these limita-
tions being a hindrance to harmonious expression
or to beauty of result, they themselves, by their
very nature, if properly understood and frankly
acknowledged, lead to those very results of
beauty and harmonious expression which come
of that perfect unity of design, material, and
method it is the object of all decorative art to
attain.

considering Design under various conditions influence of
use and material. The present may be con- Conditions
sidered as a continuation of the same line of ^^^^^
thought in somewhat different directions.

We may consider conditions in the general
sense as those general aesthetic laws governing
the place and purpose of designs, and their
position in relation to the eye and hand, such as
height, plane of extension, and scale ; or in the
more particular sense which includes all these,
as well as more strict technical conditions which,
being accepted by the artistic faculty, influence
the form and character of all design, the object
being, of course, the attainment of the greatest
beauty consistent with such conditions.

All design is necessarily conditioned, from the
purely graphic and pictorial to the most abstract
forms of decoration. We cannot set pencil to
paper even without committing ourselves to a
kind of compact with conditions. Here is a
white expanse—a plain surface; here is some-
thing to make black marks with.

our thought, or our rendering of a piece of
nature or of art will depend upon our frank

tint as conditions of representation, and on our
faithfulness to them, by means of which we
shall attain the most truth and beauty in draw-

It is the recognition of this which gives dis-
tinction to all drawing, according to the in-
dividuality, invention, and character of the
artist. We recognize his style and personality
by his manner of dealing with the conditions of
the workj and nowhere does this come out more
emphatically than when those conditions are
reduced to the simplest. So that in a line
drawing in pen or pencil, in the economy of the
means, and in the skill and mastery by which
facts of nature, character, life, action, or beauty
of line and ornamental effect are rendered by
the simple use of outline, or tint, or solid black,,
we can recognize the artist of power just as
clearly as we recognize a friend's handwriting.

The suavity and grace of Raphael, the energy
of Michael Angelo, the learning and finish of
Leonardo, the sculptor-like definition of Man-
tegna, the firmness and care of Durer, the
breadth and richness of Holbein ; all these
qualities come out clearly enough in the studies
and drawings of these masters in pen, pencil,,
and chalk. For beauty of style, treatment, and
decorative feeling in pencil and chalk, perhaps,
few come near the studies of our modern master,.
Burne-Jones.

In making studies, too, another condition
comes in, important enough in its effects—that
of time. In general practice no means to ends
are more useful than rapid sketches and notes of
passing actions and transient effects. In order
to seize the essential facts quickly great economy

of means are necessary, and practice and experi-
ence alone can teach us facility in selecting the
leading points and most expressive lines. Given
a limited time in which to note facts, the problem
is how to set down the most truth in the sim-
plest and most forcible way.

The conditions which govern the making of
a sketch or study upon paper are sufficient as
tests of artistic capacity, of draughtsmanship, of
taste, and the other fine qualities which go to
the making of a work of art, having what may
be termed an independent or individual interest
and value ; but in adapting any kind of design
to a definite ornamental purpose other conditions
immediately come into play over and above
those belonging to the conditions of draughts-
manship alone, conditions which at once influ-
ence the style of draughtsmanship and determine
the treatment.

Again, everyone who attempts designs for
different kinds of decorative purpose, for different
materials, for different planes of extension, for
different positions and uses, must perceive that
such considerations are important factors in de-
termining the plan, construction, and spirit of
the design.

The ornamental conditions, for instance, which
govern the design of wall-papers and hangings,
demand patterns which climb upwards and
spread laterally without any apparent effect or
flaw in the repeat. Frieze designs, again, de-
mand horizontal extension and definite rhythm,
which latter is an important element in all border
design.

Designs for extension upon floors and pave-
ments, where the effect of perspective distorts

forms as they recede from the eye, require their Chap. iv.
own special ' planning and treatment, square, fn^ueLe of
circular, diamond, and fish-scale plans being Conditions
generally the safest, as bases, since they pre-
serve their form in perspective better than
irregular non-geometric or more complex plans.

Much the same kind of considerations control
ceiling decoration, where, in addition, suggestions
may be taken from constructive conditions, as, in
flat ceilings, the design following parallel beams
and joists and their interstices ; the panelled
arrangement of a coffered ceiling ; or radiating
spring of lines from constructive centres, as in
vaulted ceilings.

Where a pattern will be broken by deep folds,
as in textiles, in hangings, and curtains, the
conditions favour the recurrence of bold masses,
richer points, and more strongly defined forms,
at intervals, than would be agreeable in a pattern
for extension on a plane surface, unless we except
carpets, where boldness of form and richness of
colour are desirable.

Such conditions as these influence every de-
partment of decorative design, and in proportion
to the completeness with which they are satisfied
will depend the success of designs ; and a design
which may have less actual beauty, perhaps, than
another, but which completely fulfils the con-
ditions of its existence, is likely to have a longer
life.

The persistence of certain well-known types
of pattern is probably due to this—such as the
continual reappearance of the Greek fret in
various forms as a border design in all sorts of
work.

The main condition appears to be in the
matter of scale that we cannot afford to ignore
the average human standard. As we may say
that the human frame itself contains the elements
and principles of all ornamental design, so its
proportions and scale control the proportions and
scale of all design. Objects intended for human
use and service are bound to be of certain
fixed or average sizes—seats and couches about
eighteen inches from the ground, for instance ;
ordinary domestic doors not much over six feet
high, and three feet six inches or four feet wide.
The size of casements, again, is strictly related
to the power of the hand to open them; while
the sizes of all movable objects of use are in
like manner strictly governed by the average
size, height, and strength of mankind.

Pursuing the influence of such conditions, we
find that there are in every direction natural
limitations in every department of design: in
the first place of scale and position in relation to
eye and hand, in the second place of method
and material.

Take the page of a printed book, for instance.
The body of type impressed upon the paper
gives the proportions and dimensions of the
page. The double page, when the book is
opened to show the right and left hand pages
(or recto and verso, as they are termed), is the
true unit, not the single page.

The type should be placed so as to leave the
narrowest margin at the top and the inside,
the broader on the outside, and the broadest of
all at the foot. And this for obvious reasons,

Chap. IV. since in holding a book in our hand we naturally
?nflueLe of Want the type brought well under the eye, the
Conditions

pages being set as close together as the neces-
sities of joining down the middle will allow
conveniently, so that the eye need not have to
jump across a large brook of margin in travelling
from one to the other, while the deep margin
below enables the book to be held in the hand
well set up before the eye, without touching the

In taking up a book with the intention of
decorating or illustrating it, we must accept
frankly these conditions, which indeed are, pro-
perly considered, a substantial help to the artist,,
just as the necessities of the ground plan give
suggestions for the elevation in architectural
design. These conditions, we may take it, are
the architectural conditions of book-page con-
struction.

The size, then, of our page-panel being fixed,
as well as the page of type necessary to the book
(sizes of books are, of course, determined by
folding of the paper—folio, quarto, octavo, duor
decimo, and so on), we are free to deal with it
decoratively in a variety of ways, subject only to
the acknowledgment of the essential condition
that it is a book-page, and not a random sheet
of paper to make blots of ink upon—or a
stereoscope, or a card-basket, for instance, as
some modern treatments of illustration in books
suggest.

We may use the whole page for the design,
surrounding it with a line or border. Or for
the sake of richer and more ornate effect, while
confining our picture or illustration to the limits
of the type-page, we may use our margin for

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can be utilized for ornaments branching up and
down from the letter to emphasize the chapter
or paragraph, in the manner of mediaeval
illuminated MSS., and in the way adopted by
Mr. William Morris in his Kelmscott Press
books.

Or, again, limiting our decoration to the actual
type-page, we may divide the page at the opening
of a chapter by a frieze-shaped panel or heading
across the top, placing the initial letter below ;
or insert a picture in the text, occupying a half-
page or quarter-page; or at the ending of a
chapter design a tailpiece to fill the page where
the type ends, treating any space within the
limits of the type-page, which the type does not
occupy, as a field for design, or placing one's
pictures and ornaments in the midst or in place
of the type.

The title-page, again, is capable of an im-
mense variety of treatment, and great orna-
mental use can always be made of the lettering,
whether accompanied by design or not.

I think, too, that it is obvious that the con-
ditions of surface printing point to line-drawing as
the most harmonious in effect for book illustra-
tion and decoration, as well as most practical
mechanically, since type and blocks which de-
corate a page must be subjected to the same
pressure. The form of letters, too, in movable
type, being linear, whether Gothic or Roman
letters, line-drawing is in direct decorative rela-
tion with the type.

In proportion to the solidity or heaviness of
the letters, too, as a general principle, stronger

Chap. IV. a decorative framework or border. As also in
fnflueLe of using Ornamental initial letters the side borders
Conditions
in Design

Where they may hope a kingdome to obtaine :
No faithe so firme, no trust can be so strong,
No love so lasting then, that may enduren long.

Witnesse may Biirbon be ; whom all the bands
Which may a Knight assure had surely bound,
Untill the love of Lordship and of lands
Made him become most faithless and unsound :
And witnesse be Gerioneo found,
Who for like cause faire Beige did oppresse.
And right and wrong most cruelly confound :
And so be now Grantorto, who no lesse
Then all the rest burst out to all outragiousnesse.

From

Spenser's

" Faerie

Queene."

Walter

Crane

SACRED hunger of ambitious mindes,
And impotent desire of men to raine !
Whom neither dread of God, that devils bindes.
Nor lawes of men, that common-weales containe.
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes restraine.
Can keepe from outrage and from doing wrong.

effects of black and white may be ventured on,
while if the type is light and elegant, finer and
more open-like work would be the most har-
monious treatment. With the use of handmade
Daper, again, upon which a printed book always
ooks best, openness of line is a necessary con-
dition in design work to be reproduced as
surface printing blocks with the type, since the
quality of the paper requires considerable pres-
sure to bring up bright impressions, and under
such pressure (with the grain and rough surface
of the paper, which gives the richness to the
lines and blocks of type or woodcut) fine and
broken lines would print up too strong, and not
look well. Pen or brush drawing, therefore, in
firm and unbroken lines is the most adapted to
the conditions in this case because they work
and look the best, and lead to a distinct char-
acter and style.

Nothing looks worse, to my mind, than heavy
toned and realistically treated wash drawings
used with a thin and light type, such as we con-
stantly see in newspapers and magazines.

The facility of the photographic processes for
reproducing drawings of all kinds (as well as
the decline of printing as an art before that, and
the decline of good facsimile engraving), have no
doubt tended to destroy the sense of style and
harmony in combining text and illustration,
since the two have come to be considered so
entirely apart; but of late years there have been
many indications of a return to sounder taste,
which is sure to influence the printer's and illus-
trator's art more and more widely.

From books let us turn for further illustra-
tion to another source of illumination, namely,

windows ; where, in the design of leaded and Chap. iv.
stained glass, we shall find examples of another ^u^^ce of
strictly conditioned and very beautiful province Conditions
of design. ^ _

In the course of its historical development
stained glass seems to show much the same or
corresponding general characteristics at different
periods as to style, as may be traced in other
branches of art. The windows of the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries were characterized by
geometric pattern, and made up of small pieces
of glass, the figure subjects small, set in geomet-
ric inclosures or quatrefoil panels and showing
Byzantine influence in their treatment/ It may
be, too, that the windows of the early Gothic
period were influenced by the rich mosaic
work of the Byzantine artists, but in the four-
teenth and fifteenth centuries, as windows became
larger and more important features in architec-
ture, and stone tracery enabled very large open-
ings to be filled with coloured and leaded glass,
both the figures and the pieces of glass became
larger, the general design more pictorial, till in
the early sixteenth century we get perspectives
and heavily-shaded figures, and large masses of
light and dark, until the art perished in eighteenth
•century transparencies.

It perished because the essential fundamental
•conditions were ignored or not made important
decorative use of. Leading, instead of being

^ I give some reproductions from photographs of the
beautiful fragments from the Sainte Chapelle, now in the
South Kensington Museum, as types of the earlier glass, and
from Winchester College for the later, and two cartoons of
Mr. Ford Madox Brown's as examples of good modern
•design, showing leading.

Xlllth

century-

Glass from

the Sainte

Chapelle,

Paris.

South

Kensington
Museum

regarded as the backbone of the design, its
fundamental anatomy, and essential decorative
as well as mechanical characteristic, was rather
looked upon as an awkward if necessary inter-
ruption in the picture, and the glass-painter, in
endeavouring to follow the painter on canvas in
his effects of relief and chiaroscuro, lost all the
peculiar beauty and character of his own art
without gaining the distinction of the one he
would fain have rivalled.^

It has only been by artists going back to the
fundamental conditions, and in keeping faith with
them, that a revival of glass-painting has taken
place in our time.

Both demand the full light of the sky to do
them justice, but especially the colour work, and
therefore can only effectively be used for win-
^dows placed high, or above the level of the eye,
in the wall like church windows, for it is only
the full strength of light which brings out the
full beauty and depth which the best work in
glass always possesses ; and in some qualities of

^ Winston, in his well-known work on glass-painting, a
very good and particular account both of the characteristic
historic periods and the methods and materials of glass-
painting, says : " In the eighteenth century glass was painted
with enamels, very much as canvas is with oil colours, that
is to say, in little patches, and the shadows were not pro-
duced merely with enamel brown, but with deeper tints of
various local colours. In this way the shadows are almost
imperceptibly blended with the lights, scarcely any part of
the glass being left perfectly free of colour, or the marks of
the brush."

Chap. IV. glass, indeed, only full sunlight will discover
influence of their inner heart of jewel-like colour.

Very beautiful effects in window glazing are
produced by patterns formed of plain leads, and
their value has of late been perceived by archi-
tects, who largely use them in domestic work.
Either seen from within or without the effect is
pleasant, and suggests a sense both of comfort
and romance which refuse to be associated with
large blank squares of plate glass and heavy sash
windows, which require a Samson or a Sandow
to lift.

Inside, the effect of large panes of plate glass
is cold. Outside, it forms great holes in the
architecture, but, with the use of leads, if the
opening is large, there need be scarcely any
diminution of light inside, while the network of
lead forms a pleasant relief to the window surface
and unites it by pattern with the architecture of
the building.

The pliant grooved strip of lead, then, is the
glass designer's outline. With it he weaves his
plain pattern, which he can enrich with spots of
colour or by jewels of light in escutcheons and
roundels; and when he comes to planning an
elaborate figure panel he is bound to contrive a
well-constructed basis of leading to hold his
colour and form together, and by means of its
bold black bounding lines to define the masses
of his pattern, each different tint of glass being
inclosed by a lead line, and shading, faces, hands,
and small details being added with brush draw-
ing in brown upon the coloured glass.

Apart from good design, well-planned leading
and colour scheme, nearly everything depends
upon the careful choice of tint in the glass itself,

Chap. IV. and immense pains and trouble are well spent
?n"fluence of ^^^^ since beauty of total effect, as well

as particular harmonies, depend upon choice of
the degree, depth, and quality of the coloured
glass.

Now glass for colour work, called antique, is
made in small sheets about 22 in. x 17 in.
The sheets of one maker do not exceed 8 in.

X 5 in. They may be classified as tints and
whites. These form the palette of the stained
glass artist, and furnish him with an immense
range of tint and tone from which to select.
But these, again, are divisible into two sorts ;
(i) what is calledself-colours, or sheets
that are of the same metal throughout; and (2)
that known as flashed, that is, when a thin skin
of ruby, gold, pink, or blue is flashed upon a
sheet of blue, white, pink, or amber. This
flash may be lightened or removed at pleasure
by fluoric acid.

The object of the maker of these small sheets
of glass is to get as much variety as possible,
not only in light and dark, which in the pot-
metals is dtie to the varying thickness of the sheet;
and in the flashed colours to the va7ying thick-
ness of the flash, but in some cases a mixture of
two or more colours in the same sheet, by which
it will be seen that no two sheets even out of
the same pot of metal are alike. It is the use
of this variety and unexpectedness that are
amongst the charms of stained glass.

We speak of stained glass, but in reality there
is only one stain, properly speaking; other
colours used on glass are enamels, the real
colour being incorporated in the glass when
made (pot-metal or flashed), and not painted on.

This stain is a preparation of silver, and is Chap. iv.
mixed with a vegetable colour, yellow lake, to ^flugnce of
weaken it. It is principally used upon the Conditions
whites to stain diapers, hair, etc., and when design
fixed in the kiln the yellow lake is burnt away,
leaving a slight residue which is easily re-
moved, and the silver is vitrified into the glass,
the depth of yellow being varied according to
the strength of the stain and the susceptibility
of the glass.

In setting to work to design a stained glass
window, it is usual first to make a coloured
IA inch to the foot is the

A window may be composed of one light or
of many, each separate panel inclosed by the
masonry or mullions being termed a light. The
question of treatment of subject as a single
design extending across several lights, or as
separate panels, must depend first upon the
particular subject, or subjects, to be treated,
then the scale of the window, and the general
character of the architectural setting.

Supposing it is a subject like the Nativity,
with the Adoration of the Magi, it would lend
itself to treatment as a single subject extending
across several lights, and to great richness and
splendour of colour. The colour design in such a
case would be the most important, but, as I have
before said, it must be perfectly combined with,
and built upon, a well-designed network of lead
lines, those lines forming themselves essential
elements in the design, defining the forms in
bold outline, and uniting and giving value to the
masses of colour. For while we may separate
the problem into two parts, the design of lead

Chap. IV. lines and colour design, the window must be
Mu^nce of conceived as a whole, not merely as composition
Conditions in line to be tinted.

m Design Having made our scale sketch, the next step
is to work out the full-sized cartoons, which, of
course, demand more attention to drawing and
detail. Many artists make as many elaborate
studies for figures, drapery, and details as they
would for a highly-wrought picture in oil, or
mural painting. As a matter of fact, however,
though any amount of good drawing and in-
vention may be put into glass design, it should
not be forgotten that beauty of pattern and effect
and symbolic suggestion are the objects and not
pictorial naturalism.

For main definition in the design the essential
lead line is all important. It would not do to
sketch in a figure in a casual way, and then
surmount it with lead lines ; it should be care-
fully considered as a piece of bold and massive
outline design.

In leading we may use a bolder line for
bounding and defining the main masses, and a
thinner sort for subsidiary fittings ; in this much
will depend upon the scale of the work. The
lead, which has a double groove, may be said to
serve several functions. Its primary office is to
hold the pieces of glass together : it forms the
linework of the design, surrounding the figures
and forms, separating them from each other
and the background, as well as defining the
secondary forms, as of drapery and other detail.
Then, too, the lead joints ease the cutting of
awkward shapes in the glass, which however
should be avoided in planning the cartoon.
Again, it may be used to obtain greater variety

The glass is cut from this drawing-, the cutter
cutting the glass just within the lines, thus
allowing for the heart of lead. The same draw-
ing serves also for the leadworker to glaze the
finished work upon.

The shapes of the whites and light colours
are seen when the sheets are laid on the draw-
ing ; but the shapes of the dark colours, through
which it is impossible to see the lead lines, must
be obtained in another way.

The best way is to cut the shape in thin
sheet glass, which is then placed on the dark
sheet of antique glass held up to the light, and
moved about until the most suitable part of the
sheet is found. They are then laid on the
bench together, and the piece of sheet glass
is pounced with a small bag of fine whitening,
which, when removed, leaves its shape on the
dark sheet to be followed by the cutter's diamond.

The ordinary trade way of doing this is to
number the outline, which indicates to the cutter
certain racks correspondingly numbered con-
taining the different colours. But if it is to be
really careful artistic work the designer ought
himself to select each piece for his work.

The principle and idea of colour in glass de-
sign, dealing as the artist does with pure trans-
lucent colour, is necessarily distinct from those
obtaining in other kinds of painting, such as
mural, when opaque colours and a variety of
half-tones are used. The glass designer does
not attempt to shade his figures and draperies
by the light and dark parts of a sheet of coloured
glass. He desires to express the jewel-like

quality—the quintessence of colour in every
piece of glass—by the force of contrast. Not in
the juxtaposition of dark and light pieces of one
colour merely, but by the bold arrangement of
various colours, having the effect of one, but
with a richness and sonorousness that the single
tint does not possess.

For example, in a yellow drapery we should
take a rich decided yellow as keynote. Ob-
viously if the adjoining pieces were of the same
colour, the effect would be flat and tame ; but if
we take a low toned yellow or neutral colour,
the keynote will be screwed up to concert pitch,
as it were, and if the neutral colour is followed
by a reddish tone of yellow and that by another
variation of yellow, that again by a decided
green, and so on, we shall achieve that desider-
atum in stained glass—variety in unity.

The general effect will be warmer or colder
as reddish or greenish tones predominate in the
scheme. Care, of course, must be taken to bring
these contrasted—even discordant—component
parts into a harmonious whole : indeed every
piece should be selected, not only to agree with
and help its neighbour, but with reference to the
harmony of the whole. Any undue abruptness
of contrast may be brought into sufficient rela-
tion by the after painting.

The white must be treated in the same way,
a mixture of warm and cold tints as a rule, the
general effect of each mass being made warmer
or colder as found necessary. Great care must
be taken with the masses of white to prevent
them looking like holes in the window : for
instance, a white coming next to a dark colour
would have to be a tint (or very low in tone, as

we should say in painting) to hold its proper
place. Only by actual experience, however, can
the artist learn how one colour affects another,
and how certain combinations will look in their
place.

We have now reached the painting stage.
All the glass has been cut and laid out on the
outline. It is now looked over to see if there
are any pieces that will not stand the fire—that
is, that would change colour or lose brilliance.
The gold pinks, brown rubies, and some sorts
of pure ruby are liable to do this. Pieces of
plain sheet glass may therefore be cut to the
same shape to paint on, to be afterwards glazed
behind the coloured pieces, so that the full
brilliance is preserved.

The wings of the angel in the panel by Mr.
J. S. Sparrow (to whom I am indebted for this
detailed account) have been treated in this way.

The outline was made in colours ground in
turpentine, fattened and made workable with
japanner's gold-size, in order to stand the matte
of water-colour to be added afterwards.

When the figure is drawn in this way all the
pieces are stuck upon an easel glass (a large
stout piece of sheet) with a composition of bees-
wax and resin.

As this is the first time all the pieces have
been seen together the panel is carefully looked
over, as a whole, to see that each piece is of a
right colour and value. Some pieces may have
to be cut over again ; others strengthened or
modified by the addition of another piece of glass.
This last method is called plating, by which rich
and beautiful deep toned effects can be produced.

all over the figure. This forms the half-tones, chap. iv.
and the lights are taken out (when dry) with f^uence of
hog-hair brushes, the colour being first loosened Conditions
by modelling the broad lights with the finger, ^^^'sn
which indeed is the best implement, and as
much of the modelling should be done by it as
possible.

A quill may be used to take out sharp lights.
The work should now be ready for the kiln, but
before firing it should be again stuck up, and
looked over, and any strengthening or definition
added in shadows on details by oil-colour with
the addition of fat turpentine to keep it open;
the dry surface of the glass being first treated
with a wash of oil of tar to make the colour flow
easily.

Then the diapers and hair is stained on the
back of the glass, and it is ready for the kiln.

After being leaded up, the leads soldered
together at the junctions, the panel is again
placed on the easel, and further alterations or
improvements may be made, as the leaded panel
looks very different from the glass by itself. The
panel is next cemented, the leads filled up with
putty or cement to make it firm and water-tight.
The cement is like a very thick paint, a mixture
of white lead, whitening, red lead, lamp-black,
dryers and raw and boiled oil.

The window may require to be supported by
horizontal iron bars, if it extends over two feet.
They are usually placed about fifteen inches
apart, as the leaded glass might bend under the
pressure of wind without extra support.

From this account we may realize what care
and taste are necessary to carry out really artis-
tic work in stained glass. The whole subject

affords us a good illustration of one of the high-
est and most beautiful of the arts of design,
severely controlled by well-defined conditions—
conditions which, if followed faithfully, give it
all its peculiar character, strength, and beauty.
The necessities of leading and cutting the glass
demand a certain severity and simplicity of
design—from which a new beauty is evolved,
capable in its turn of influencing other forms of
art for good, as in easel painting—which harmon-
izes with its symbolic and religious intention as
well as with the architectural and monumental
character of its surroundings in its noblest forms
in public and college halls and churches ; while
its glow and colour, suggestive symbolism, or
heraldic adornment, may cheer and virify domes-
tic interiors with a touch of poetry and romance.

CHAPTER v.—OF THE CLIMATIC
INFLUENCE IN DESIGN—CHIEFLY
IN REGARD TO COLOUR AND
PATTERN.

WE have seen how largely Design in its chap. v.
manifold forms has been influenced by cfi^a^tjc
various physical conditions and necessities, and influence in
in pursuing the subject we can hardly fail to note
that, outside those more strictly defined technical
conditions we have been considering, there are
certain broad controlling influences which have
determined, and still determine, essential dif-
ferences of character as between the products
of one country and another ; differences which,
despite the complex network of international
commerce and exchange, tending ever to obscure
and confuse those native and natural differences
by mixture and fusion, still persist. Indeed, as
Manchester manufacturers and merchants well
know, in the matter of pattern and colour they
have to be taken into serious account, since we
have unfortunately taken upon ourselves the
responsibility of supplying Eastern markets,
substituting our own ideas of pattern and colour
in fabrics for the original native ones—or rather,
sending back to the native Chinese and Indian
second-hand notions of their own colours and
patterns.

these broad differences in the choice and treat-
ment of colour and design in different countries
—those variations which enable us to assign each
to its native home, north, south, east, or west,
upon this parti-coloured globe of ours ?

If we were to endeavour to mark upon a
chart in some bright colour, say red or yellow,
all those countries where, given a certain organ-
ized social life of civilization of some kind,
bright sunshine was the rule, and indicate pro-
portionally its lesser degrees in others, we should
get a vivid notion of the general distribution of
the colour sense : we should naturally come to
the conclusion that it is to the source of all our
life, light, and heat^—to the sun—that we must
also trace our colour sense, which is a part of
the sense of sight itself. It is to the influence
of sunlight, direct or indirect, and to its pre-
valence in a greater or lesser degree in different
countries, then, that we may attribute the dif-
ferences of taste and feeling for colour and
pattern which mark the different quarters of the
inhabited earth.

We know how we are affected by the absence
or presence of sunlight in our own country, and
by a heavy or light atmosphere, and are sensi-
tive to the changes of the weather, which no
doubt have their influence upon our work, and
we know how different colours look in different
degrees and qualities of light.

We have only to follow the pattern book of
Nature herself, indeed, and see how distinctly
she paints upon the globe the different zones of
climate in different coloured flowers, birds, and
animals corresponding vv'ith those differences; or
follow her system of coloration in the ordinary

With the return of the sun and lengthening influence in
days and the new awakening of life in the
spring, a delicate bloom overspreads the land-
scape, the dark wintry woodlands burst into
blossoms and clouds of foliage, taking every
tint, from the palest green to delicate amber and
red; while the meadows show the rich moist
green of new springing grass, embroidered with
flowers, yellow, white, and blue; while the blue
sky seems to repeat itself in the copses where
the hyacinths grow. Gradually, as spring turns
to summer, the colours deepen, the greens of
trees and grass grow fuller, the flowers grow
brighter and more varied in hue, crimsons and
reds and purples are seen, and gardens become
feasts of colour; and as the cornfields ripen
scarlet poppies mingle with the gold, and the
leaves of the trees, having reached their darkest
tint, as autumn nears, become tinged with yel-
low and brown, and, before they fall, turn into
wonderful harmonies of russet and gold, in part
recalling, though in lower tones, some of the
colours of spring.

The ripe fruit in the orchards gives a deeper
note of richer and brighter colour, when the
procession of flowers has reached the threshold
of winter, bare and cold, though not colourless
—its colours being more metallic—the silver
of frost and mists, and the ruddy gold of the
winter sun gilding the black trees, whereon
mosses and lichens take the place of leaves and
flowers, and sombre yews and hollies and firs,
instead of the bright greens of spring, until the
whole is veiled in ice and snow.

c/imLdc before our eyes every year—those of us, at least,
Influence in who are fortunate enough to live in the country,
Design ^^^ observers ; and even to town dwellers

the tale of colour to a certain extent is told by
the importation of flowers, or even by the textiles
in drapers' windows, or costumes in the street,
as humanity responds to the approach of the
sun by wearing lighter and fairer colours in the
spring and summer, and getting darker and more
sombre again in the autumn and winter.

We have only to glance at the various mani-
festations of our home arts to note these changes
with the characteristic colours of our varied land-
scape reflected, not only in the works of our
painters, but in the half-tones of our textiles
and wall-papers, and throughout our decorative
design, which for form, too, owes so much to
the flora of our native land.

It does not seem to follow that with the
greatest amount of sunlight we get the most
colour ; on the contrary, the zenith of light is
the absorption of colour, just as darkness repre-
sents its extinction. Light and darkness are the
black and white on the palette of nature, neces-
sary to give value to her colours.

The sense of colour, too, is no doubt greatly
affected by other climatic influences, such as
humidity, haziness, clearness, heat and cold,
as well as their accompaniments in varieties of
scenery and locality, such as plains or moun-
tains, woodland, sea-board, lake, river, agri-
cultural land, or wild nature.

We associate brilliant colours and bold de-
signs with eastern and southern countries, but,
apart from the greater stimulus of light which

bolder and franker use of colour and ornament
in the south and east. Broad and full sunlight
has a curiously flattening effect upon colour and
pattern, and therefore colours and patterns

Chap. V. which under a gray sky would look staring, or
CHm^Hc strong and striking, under the full sunlight

Influence in fall into plane, and become subordinated to the
dominant pitch of light.

We may take as an instance the porch of
the Cathedral at Pistoia. The bold black and
white bands of marble which face the front
of this building—as of so many mediaeval
Lombardic Italian cathedrals, as at Florence,
Genoa, and Siena (an idea borrowed from the
Saracens) —look striking enough under a gray
sky, but when the sunlight falls upon the build-
ing and raises the whole pitch of light the whole
mass with its projections falls into planes of broad
light and shade. The black bands become gray
and flat in the light, and all fall into their places
in the architectural scheme, and therefore, though
borrowed from the east, are quite appropriate
in a climate like Italy, which can count on per-
sistent sunshine for the most part, summer and
winter. Inside the porch, in the spandril and
vault, is faced with Delia Robbia ware, in blue,
white, and yellow, and a very beautiful piece of
decoration it is. This, again, however, in a dull
atmosphere might look cold and strange, but
illuminated by the rich reflected light cast up
from the sunlit pavement it takes all sorts of
accidental lights and falls into its place admir-
ably. Otherwise the porch is interesting from
the curious blend of Byzantine, Saracenic, and
classical motives and influences in decoration.

Seen in the cold and dull light of an English
museum, away from its proper architectural sur-
roundings, panels of Delia Robbia ware are apt
to look somewhat strong, bold, or rank in colour,
but it only shows they were designed in a sunny

bright climate, and to be seen in a full external chap. v.
or warm reflected light as a rule. The very cita'^aUc
qualities that make the ware trying in one place influence in
make it right in another.

The various historic types of design in archi-
tecture and decoration are, in fact, mostly the
result of the blending or uniting of elements de-
rived from different sources. While we may in
the leading types prevalent in different countries
detect the fundamental prevailing influence of
life, custom and habit, the result of climatic and
racial conditions ; we may also see, owing to
social and political changes and the results
of conquest or of commercial relations, other
elements coming in various details of construc-
tion, form, and colour.

Our present purpose, however, is rather to
seek the fundamental characteristic types and
predilections traceable to the fundamental or
natural conditions of locality and climate, as far
as they can be followed in historic decoration.

It seems to have been in the power of certain
ancient peoples to impress and to preserve the
character of their life and the conditions of their
habitat very strongly upon their art, so that,
though their political power has long ago been
swept away, their records remain practically im-
perishable in their monuments of art.

If we look at the structure of the primitive
Egyptian dwelling we shall find that it illustrates
those influences of climate and locality in a very
emphatic way.

In the first place, as we know, Egypt depends
upon her great river, the Nile, which may be

said to have made her existence possible, since
its waters fertilize the whole country. It is
interesting, then, to note that the primitive
Egyptian dwelling was essentially suggestive of
the riverside and of a country of sunshine. Its
materials were those of the waterside, consisting
of clay and canes and lotus reeds; the canes being
used for the framing and support of the clay
walls, which are built in layers between them.

The plans and diagrams of construction (from
Viollet le Due) will give a clear idea of the form
and character of the primitive Egyptian dwell-
ing. In the course of an interesting account of
its construction he says : that it is a dwelling for
a country where brilliant simshine is the rule is
shown by the smallness of the windows, which
are furnished with lattices. The walls were
frequently plastered with clay, covered with a
composition made of the same clay and fine
sand or white stone dust, and this furnished a
ground for the painters who decorated the reeds
and plastered walls with brilliant colours ; the
walls and ceilings of the interior were also
decorated in the same way ; rush mats furnished
the floor and covered the lower part of the walls.
Sometimes, also, we find a portico supported on
bundles of reeds, the covering of which is made
of wood and byblos, with a terrace of clay before
the door, affording shade and coolness in front
of the dwelling. Like most dwellings in eastern
countries, there is a flat roof or terrace on the
top of the house, approached by steps ; and here
awnings are spread on poles to give shade, when
they can be used for sitting upon or for sleeping
or enjoying the cool of the day.

ing and carving in stone from the rock dwellers
above the Delta, and built their great temples,

Chap. V.
Of the
Climatic
Influence in
Design

Primitive
Egyptian
House.
After Viollet
le Due

they still perpetuated in stone, in the reeded and
filleted columns with lotus capitals, the orna-
mental traditions of the reed-built primitive
dwelling, and the painter still adorned them in

Chap. V. bright primitive colours ; so that we are per-
CHm\uc petually reminded of the great riverside, from
Influence in which sprung the flower of that ancient art and
Design civiHzation. Another effect of chmate upon art

may be noted in the representation
of figures. The Egyptian climate
being extremely warm but equable,
most out-door occupations precluded
the wearing of much apparel, so that
the figure nude and lightly clad plays
an important part in Egyptian design,
as in Greek.

At a time like the present, w^hen
the world of design suffers rather
from what might be called too gener-
ous or too mixed a diet; when the
tendency is to over-elaborate, to
combine too many elements; to be
lost either in an overdone flamboyance
of curvature, or in a straining after a
forced and inappropriate naturalism,
a study of Egyptian art may be
recommended as a wholesome cor-
rective, The simplicity, severity,
and restraint, abstract and yet vivid
characterization of form, frank and
primitive coloration, purposeful in-
tention, and mural motives and
methods are full of suggestiveness
and value to the student and de-
corative designer.

Another instance of the influence of primitive
timber construction over stone may be seen in
comparing the ancient Persian column with its
timber prototype still in use. Persia, indeed, is
another eastern country which has preserved

almost unbroken traditions in design from a chap. v.
very remote past, and may be said to be the cum'^aric
source of the most beautiful types of ornamental influence in

, art the world has ever seen, and especially in
three leading forms — coloured and glazed
tiles and bricks, pottery, and textiles. To
judge from the wonderful decoration of glazed
bricks discovered a few years ago at Susa,

165

forming part of the ancient forum and palace
of Darius, destroyed in the reign of Xerxes, b.c.
485-465, excavated by M. and Mme. Dieulafoy,^
the artistic skill of the Persians in this kind
of work, and their sense of its value, and the

In the famous frieze
of archers, which formed
part of the wall decora-
tion of this palace, the figures
are frankly repeated in design
though alternating in the pat-
terns and colours of their dress,
boldly relieved upon a field of
turquoise blue, formed by the
glazed bricks by which the
frieze is constructed. The
figures and ornament must
have been moulded or stamped
in relief upon the clay while
soft, and cut up into bricks, and
afterwards fired and glazed in
the method of Robbia ware;
the whole scheme is severelv
simple but very effective in its
proper position upon the walls
of one of the large courts of the
palace, mostly in reflected light under projecting
porticoes, or would be very impressive and at
the same time truly mural and reposeful in feel-
ing and colour.

' See "Acropole de Suse," Hatchette at Cie., 79, Boule-
vard St. Germaine, Paris.

could hardly have been conceived except in a
country of brilliant light. Some doubt exists as
to the exact position of the frieze upon the wall.
Figures of similar scale in Assyrian work and
also at Persepolis were placed not far, if at all,
above the eye level.

Upon the dress of one set of the archers is
figured, it is supposed, the fortress of Susa itself,
which was built upon a mount.

There is much interesting ornamental detail
in the dresses, which afford excellent authorities
for the costume of Persian warriors of that period.
We see also the palm-leaf border, a primitive
form, type and forerunner of a whole tribe of
border design. The rosette is said to resemble
" the full-blown Star of Bethlehem, conspicuous
among all other flowers, among the herbage
clothing the stretches of Susiana and the table-
lands of Iran (Persia) after the first rains in early
spring." (Perrot and Chipiez, p. 137.)

We may note, too, what seems obviously the
prototype of the Moorish battlement, defined in
blue bricks above the figures, suggesting they
are guarding the citadel.

The Moorish or Arabian form constantly oc-
curs as an ornamental cresting in carved wood-
work, and also appears to have suggested an
ornamental form largely used with variations in
eastern carpets, notably Turkistan,

The treatment of the design has the severity
and simplicity of early Asiatic monumental art,
and is allied in treatment to the Assyrian relief
work, but is more subtle and refined, and shows
a finer decorative and colour sense.

In the treatment of blue the Persians always
seem to have been particularly successful, and

their later tile work in the Mohammedan period chap. v.
is well known, and continues down to our own cfij^^ftic

The love of blue and its use in tile work and
pottery seems to have been general all over the
east; it may be because of the adaptability of
the metallic oxide colour to firing, but also it
may be due to the pleasant relief and sense of
coolness such decoration would afford to the eye
in courts and interiors screened from the sun.

The old Nankin blue, so famous in Chinese
porcelain, in the so-called hawthorn pattern, was
described by one of the emperors as the blue
of the sky showing through the white clouds
after the south rain.

In carpets Persia about our sixteenth century
reached a pitch of perfection in design, colouring,
and material which, it would seem, has never been
reached before or since. In these works we, of
course, pass to a very different and much later
period of Persian history, after the Arabian
invasion, in the seventh century, and the con-
version of its people to the Mohammedan
religion, under which Persian art developed in
such delicate, rich, and beautiful forms.

There are very magnificent specimens of the
finest types of Persian carpets now in the
national collection at South Kensington, the
Persian collection having been recently re-,
arranged in the new galleries in Imperial Insti-
tute Road to very great advantage as regards
lighting and opportunities of study.

The famous Holy Carpet of the mosque at
Ardebil is perhaps the finest example, though
there are others more inventive in pattern, if
not more delicate in design or harmonious in

Chap. V. colour. A curious feature in the pattern of this
CHmadc Carpet is a hanging lamp, such a lamp as is used
Influence in for lighting mosques, with a painted glass body,
Design probably suspended by chains from the roof.

The lamp is repeated at the end of the main
ornament of the field of the carpet, facing
opposite ways.

The inscription worked in Arabic characters
into the carpet at one end is given in trans-
lation thus : "I have no refuge in the world
other than thy threshold. My head has no
protection other than this porchway, the work
of the slave of this holy place, Maksond of
Kashan in the year 946 " (corresponding to our
a.d. 1540). We thus see that it is a carpet
destined for an entrance, or porchway, of a
mosque, and the woven images of the lamps
probably indicated the real lamps suspended
overhead to light the entrance to the mosque.
So that, though they seem strange objects in
the pattern of a carpet, they have a certain
appropriateness and significance in this parti-
cular one. Fire, too, was a sacred emblem of
the ancient Persians.

Persia might be said to be a country of gardens,
of deserts, and of abundant sunshine. It is
for the most part a high table-land, and is de-
scribed as a climate of extremes. " Nowhere in
the habitable world is there so sharp a contrast
between the heat of noon and the cold of night,
between the brown bare rock and the verdant
meadow, between the gorgeous hues of natural
plains and the absolute bareness of arid wastes."
(Perrot and Chipiez.)

Such a description is very suggestive. We
seem to see natural reasons for the interest and

beauty of Persian art in the varied physical
conditions of their country and climate.

The love of the sheltered, walled-in, and
natural garden is very evident in their literature ;
and the influence of their flora upon their design
of all kinds is evident enough.

The idea of the eastern paradise is a garden.
We have it in the Bible in the Garden of Eden—
an inclosed pleasance or park full of choice
trees and rare flowers, animals of the chase,
and birds. This idea recurs constantly in Per-
sian design. The very scheme of the typical
carpet seems derived from it—a rich vari-
coloured field hedged about with its borders.
The field is frequently obviously intended for a
field of flowers, and sometimes suggests a wood
or an orchard of fruit trees. The idea of the
green oasis to the traveller in the desert; the
grateful relief of the colour and shade of green
trees and fresh flowers; the sound of waters; the
delight of the horseman and the hunter; the dark
forest full of dangerous animals—are not these
things irresistibly suggested in Persian design ?

The same sensitiveness to natural beauty and
the influence of climate is shown in their poets.
The astronomer-poet of Persia, Omar Khayyam,
sings of the awakening spring. It is a period,
too, associated with the termination of a religious
fast, Ramazan, which is analogous to our Lent,
perhaps.

Omar invites his reader to come forth, like a
true poet, seeking inspiration in the wilderness.

" With me along the strip of herbage strown.
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of slave and sultan is forgot,
And peace to Mahmud on his golden throne."

burst of life and efflorescence than we can realize
from our own timid and coy climate. Even in
Italy the spring generally comes all at once
with a burst of bloom and a profusion of blossoms
and flowers, and in its strength the sun straight-
way leads on into summer before one is aware.
This gives one an idea what it must be in a
country like Persia—the country of the rose and
the nightingale as well as of the vine, of which
Omar the poet is eloquent.

Then, too, it is an agricultural country. " He
who guides a plough does a pious deed " is one
of the precepts of the early Parsee religion,
which also, as its main conception, presents the
constant strife of good against evil, light against
darkness, personified by the contest of Ormuzd
and Ahriman.

The sturdy and honest peasant was the back-
bone of the country in ancient times, and fur-
nished those sturdy warriors who built the
power of the ancient kings. And in the political
changes or conquests to which Persia has been
subject in the course of her history, her people
would always appear to have had a recupera-
tive power, or a power of absorbing their con-
querors, or perhaps a certain tenacity of purpose,
or a conservation of the vital part in old beliefs
and traditions which have been favourable to
art.

How far that art was original, in the time
of Persia's ancient greatness as a conquering
power, in the time of Darius, when the palace
at Susa was built—how far it was influenced
from other sources, or contributed to by artists
of other nations, must always be more or less a

Chap. V. matter of conjecture ; but in the Susa work we
CHm^aHc reminded of Assyrian decoration, and even

The Persian art, however, which has had the
most influence upon the neighbouring Asiatic
countries, and upon Europe, has been produced
since the Arabian conquest in the seventh cen-
tury, and the conversion of the country to the
Mohammedan faith. Even then, however,
although in Mohammedan art the representa-
tion of animals is forbidden, the Persians were
neutral and independent; in Persian design
animals have been freely introduced, and with
charming decorative effect. It is supposed,
indeed, that Persian art is really the source of in-
vention of many forms commonly called Arabian
and Indian, and these forms have travelled both
east and west, and have been modified in the
countries of their adoption. The Persians seem
to have been in Asia much what the Greeks
were in Europe—both great adaptors and great
originators in design.

One might trace elements and influences and
types of form and treatment from other countries
and races in Persian art, but one traces Persian
influence to a far greater extent in the art of
other countries.

In India, which was also invaded by Islam,
and was colonized by Persians, the Arabic type
of art also became naturalized in architecture and
decoration. Here again we have a country of
the sun. Here again we find tile decoration in
great beauty, and the use of bright colours and
intricate design. Intricacy both of colour and
pattern is perhaps the chief characteristic of
Indian design.

One feature in Indian, as in Arabic dwellings,
may be noticed as a direct result of the persist-
ent sunshine turned to decorative account—one
common to eastern countries—the pierced screen
or lattice window, which tempers the fierce light
of the sun and breaks it into small stars of light.

The rich carved timber overhanging windows,
with its lattice screens so characteristic of old
Cairo and Arabian life, is repeated with varia-
tions in India, and not only in wood but in stone
and faience. We find small ogee-pointed win-
dows with perforated lattices cut in sandstone
of intricate design and delightful ornamental
effect. There are some in the India Museum
from Agra. But the loveliest of all are those
in the mosque of the Palace at Ahmedabad,
consisting of most delicate and intricate designs
of trees cut in stone, which fill the arched open-
ings. One of these windows is here illustrated.
There is nothing more delicate or beautiful in
the whole range of architectural ornament.

In the tomb of Yusuf Shah Cadez, at Multan,
occur large perforated screens in tile work.
This tomb, an excellent reproduction of which
is to be seen in the India Museum, is a fine
example of Mohammedan tile work and decora-
tion in two blues—turquoise and ultramarine—
on a warm white ground. In the luminous
atmosphere of India, beneath the deep blue
vault of the sky, such colour on such surface
must be very beautiful.

Perhaps the love of intricate ornament in
Indian carved and pierced work in the doors,
window casements, and lattices may be due in
part to the certainty of obtaining a bright, crisp,
rich, sparkling effect in the broad and strong

sunlight, where every touch would tell, and the
fret or lattice work over a pierced opening would
have all the richness and delicacy of lace.

Then in the solemn and dimly-lighted splen-
dour of the interior of the mosques, the Mo-
hammedan, alike in Arabia, Turkey, Persia, or
India, found a grateful contrast and relief to the
eye, while his religious imagination and emotion
were stimulated. Much the same feeling inten-
sified which comes over one who passes from
the brilliant Venetian sunlight on the piazza,
the glittering quays and dancing light and colour
of Venice, into the subdued, cool, and golden
shade of St. Mark's.

This wonderful contrast of bright and dark,
of glitter and solemnity, the splendour of sun-
light and the solemnity of shade, can only be
fully appreciated in southern or eastern countries.
The pitch of light being higher the shade seems
deeper, and yet it is a shade full of colour always.
When the sun sinks, in the short afterglow
everything seems fused in an atmosphere of
luminous colour and half-tone, which transfigures
and glorifies everything. We get an approach
to it on the finest summer evenings in England,
but with a different and generally less romantic
background. It would appear, though, that
climates which are characterized by constant sun-
light and heat favour rather traditional than
individual forms of art. The sun, the giver of
life and light, becomes overpowering, always
present, and in its searching beams leaves no
hiding-place for the romantic imagination, except
in temples and mosques at sunrise or sunset, or
under the moon. We may have an equable and
warm climate like Egypt, where all is sharply

defined in the light of a clear and serene chap. v.
atmosphere, with a regulated, ordered life, as in cu^a^^ic
her ancient days, under a long succession of influence in
dynasties, and we see the outcome in art— design
measured, calculated according to strict method
and authority and convention, with but little
room for individual feeling.

In Persia we find a climate of sharp contrasts,
hot sun by day and sharp cold at night, verdure
and desert, bare rock and flowery meadow side
by side, and we get a wonderfully varied art,
rich in colour and fantasy.

In India the invention, though kindred, perhaps
even largely borrowed, seems tamer, the intricacy
more calculated, the richness more mechanical ;
and we find this with a dependent people in a
land of fiercer and more permanent sunshine,
pursuing mostly an agricultural life, like the
ancient Egyptians, under conditions practically
unchanged for centuries.

In Greece, which fused and absorbed Asiatic
elements in her art, we see another country of
the sun, yet subject to winds and variations and
marked transition of the seasons—a mountainous,
rocky country, beautiful in form and embracing
the sea. In art she has given us the perfection
of figure sculpture.

In Italy, with hardly less sun, yet by no means
beyond the reach of wintry cold, severe winds,
great rains and sometimes snow, yet with a
burning summer for the most part, which has
decidedly fixed the types in her architecture, we
find a union of many elements, a halfway house
between east and west, where Asiatic feeling
unites with Greek and Roman, Saracen and Nor-
man, Gothic with Renascence, in an unexampled

Chap. V, wealth and profusion of inventive design in
CHm^Uc architecture, sculpture, painting, and all the family
Influence in of artistic handicrafts, which makes her a happy
Design hunting ground for the artist, an inexhaustible
treasure-house of beauty and suggestion.

We might follow the chariot of the sun, from
the land of its rising, Japan, a climate more near
to our own, and note her wonderful display of
manipulation and imitative skill, in all ways of
handicrafts dominating by a certain grotesqueness
as well as naturalistic impressionism ; or, passing
to her great foe China, see something of the
same tendencies and stages in the rising of her
art, breaking off, as it were, at a stage of re-
strained conventionalism—or westward, along
the southern shores of the blue Mediterranean,
following in the footsteps of the Moors, and note
the wonderfully ornate but somewhat heartless
splendour of their art in Spain : the gilded mag-
nificence of the Alhambra, with its glittering
pendentive ceilings, borrowed, as some think,
in the first place from Persia, and the wonderful
jewel-like sparkle and intricate fancy of its
ornament with its ever-recurring star-forms and
scimitar-like scrolls.

And then turning northwards into France,
with one hand touching the sunny south and the
other dipped in the gray English Channel, we
should find some of the same elements, but
very differently mixed, with a very distinct
character of art. Cold in colour, correct in form,
brilliant in workmanship, quick witted, drama-
tic ; ever experimenting and inquiring, and
desiring, like the ancient Greeks, some new
thing.

pause in Flanders and Holland and mark how
closely associated with local conditions of life
and climate are their forms of art, more
especially as illustrated in the art of their past
days—the pictures of rich Flemish burgher life
of the Middle Ages, the knights and ladies with

a certain sternness and stiffness of demeanour,
as of an energetic and yet patient people accus-
tomed to contend with difficulties, proud, yet
devotional, and fond of comfort, kneeling, well-
clad in velvets and rich furs against a northern
climate.

Germany would tell a similar tale in her arts,
though with a more dominant military and

religious note, more fantasy and more melan- Chap. v.
choly, and with a wild grotesque element cor- cu^^auc
responding with her more varied conditions influence in
of climate and scenery. The latter quality is
still more marked among the old towns of
Bohemia.

After such a journey we should doubtless be
glad to get home again to our own varying and
changeable climate, and when seated comfortably
at the fireside think how much the character-
istics of our native art may also owe to the
influence of the constant and varied procession

of sunshine and cloud, storm and calm, heat
and cold, fickle spring, short summer, long un-
certain winter, our mist and rain (which gives
us our green woodlands and meadows), to our
wild and dangerous coasts. Or we may well
think whether these influences are not traceable
in our art: love of domesticity and indoor com-
fort, characterized by warm and blended though
subdued colour, small patterns, trimness and
neatness ; love of animals and flowers, of natural
scenery and the sea. May it not be said these
are characteristics which our pictorial art cer-
tainly displays ? While our architecture (in
spite of foreign importations) is obliged to con-
sider the necessities of a varying climate, so that
our houses are built as a rule more to live in
than to look at; and the colours of our interiors,
while they often re-echo the greens, browns, and
russets of our landscape—as our patterns and
fabrics recall the flower gardens and meadows
—they are chosen perhaps more to live with
quietly than to excite controversy, or compel a
reference to the grammar of ornament.

ferences of temper and qualities of perception influence in
which affect our sense of colour and form,
which account for those variations of treatment
in the rendering, in design or drawing, of the
same objects by different persons — what are
these and whence do they come ? They belong
to the very constitution of our minds and bodies;
they are beyond our own control, and beyond
almost our own consciousness, oftentimes. They
belong to our progenitors and ancestors perhaps
as much as to ourselves, and are lost in the
broken records of past family histories ; we can
only say that certain forms and colours appear
so and so to our eyes, that we delight in some
more than others—because we are made that
way. Such indications of character and prefer-
ences are generally traceable, where clues and
records exist, to the race, or mixture of races
from which we have sprung. We attribute, for
instance, certain imaginative faculties to our
Celtic origin ; certain calculating and analytical
capacities to Teutonic sources; while as a mixed
race we call ourselves Anglo-Saxon, and as

such are supposed to be especially distinguished
by practicality, the racial type gradually, in the
process of time, being formed by the collective
action of such small individual characteristics—
somewhat as great geological deposits, such as
our chalk hills, have been formed by the gradual
accumulation and aggregation of the minute
shells of minuter marine creatures.

Thesetypical racial characteristics in art—these
preferences in colour, form, pattern, treatment,
sentiment, and idea, have left their marks upon
the history of art, which indeed becomes, finally,
the oitly history of races—the only record left of
peoples to tell us of their intimate life, their
hopes and fears, their struggles and their aspira-
tions, so that a scrap of wall-painting, a frag-
ment of an incised slab, a piece of broken pottery,
a weapon of bronze, or a jewel become in course
of time full of significance—eloquent books of
the life of peoples and powers long ago covered
by the drifting sands of time.

The desire to record and to perpetuate seems
to have stimulated the primitive artistic instinct
in all races ; and, indeed, it may still be said to
be a living factor and motive in art production.

Each race seeks an image of itself (as every
individual desires a portrait), and strives to put
in imperishable form the character of its own
life, and the ideas or ideals dearest to it. Thus,
the prehistoric hunter left images of the animals
he hunted, and his hunting reminiscences,
scratched upon bones and smooth slates and
stones ; much as the Assyrian kings, in a more
elaborate way, having the resources of a
powerful civilization at command, loved to have
recorded on sculptured slabs, lining their palaces,

their prowess in arms and the chase ; more chap. vi.
especially as hunters and slayers of lions, though r^cLI
in their case the lion hunting was done in a influence in
more luxurious modern way, the animals being
driven into special inclosures, and let loose on
purpose to be slain by the king and his men—
a system of a piece with the generally tyrannical
and cruel methods of despotic persons. Still,
no doubt, there was considerably more risk and
danger involved than in a modern battue in a
pheasant cover—barring the chance of being
shot by your neighbour's gun.

Certainly the general tenor of the story told
in ancient Asiatic art is that of the conqueror's
triumphs, of the strong overcoming the weak, the
glorification of kings and warriors in battle, of
beleaguered cities, and the carrying away of
captives and spoils. No doubt, if this conquer-
ing spirit had been absent, if each branch of
the great human family had remained within

sented sharper and more distinct contrasts, while
remaining simple in character. It is the restless,
exploring, conquering, acquisitive spirit which
mixes and blends elements originally distinct—
well, it may be it also acts as the stormy wind that
scatters the winged seeds of design and, bearing
them to new soils, produces new varieties.

It is difficult, of course, to disentangle the
strictly racial characteristics in art entirely from
those other strong influences which, in fact, may
be said to have helped in their formation—the
influence of climate, habit, and local materials,
which we have previously touched upon. Yet
the purely human element appears to come in,
and the final form which art takes among a

Chap. VI. people must bear the stamp of individual choice
Racial ^^ collective sentiment and climatic

In primitive communities, however, the in-
dividual is less apparent than the collective
racial influence. The forms of art are typical
and symbolical rather than imitative or graphic.
The great Asiatic races of antiquity, to judge
from the remains of their monuments, the palaces
of their kings, and their temples and tombs,
adopted certain typical methods of representa-
tion which, in the case of the ancient Egyptians,
became, in association with a strictly ordered
and carefully organized social existence under
an elaborate religious system and ritual, actual
forms of language and record in the hieroglyphic.
These consisted of certain abstract representa-
tions of familiar forms and figures inclosed in a
kind of cartouche, incised upon stone walls, or
stamped upon plaster and filled with colour.

The lotus flower served as a symbol of the
annual overflow of the Nile (at the summer
solstice) so important to the Egyptians ; the
ram and the sun symbolized Amru-Ra, the king
of all gods ; other animals, with and without
wings, the cat, the dog, the sparrow-hawk for
the soul, the beetle [scarabcetis) for creative
energy, generation and perpetuation of life, the
snake for continuity of time, etc. ; and even
differently arranged lines, the zigzag for water,
the circle, square, waved line, spiral, labyrinth,
etc., betokened the divine and secretly-working
powers of nature.

Such forms inclosed in cartouches massed
together, sometimes in horizontal lines, some-
times in vertical, formed a striking wall decora-

tion in themselves. A wonderful pitch of abs-
tract yet exact characterization of natural form
was reached by very simple means in this
picture-writing. The birds especially are re-
markable for their truth. Every object had to be
clearly defined so
as to be recognized
at once and easily
deciphered. The
profile view of an
object is always the
most characteristic
and typical, arid
lends itself best to
a system of repre-
sentation where all
objects are on the
same plane. So
the glyphic artist
kept strictly to pro-
file.

Love of typical
form, definite out-
line and mass, flat
and vivid coloration
—these are always
characteristic of an-
cient Egyptian art,
even when, as dur-

ing the eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties, a
freer style and greater naturalism is apparent in
their portrait sculpture and wall-paintings.

The love of clearness of statement and their
conception of art, as in the nature of a decorative
record, seems to be emphatically expressed in
their ways of representation. For instance, in

Chap. VI,
Of the
Racial
Influence in
Design

Egyptian
Hiero-
glyphics.
Tomb of
Beni Hasan.
XlXth
Dynasty

painting an altar piled with offerings they give chap. vi.
the altar front in elevation, but the offerings, Ra'^ai
in order that each and all should be seen drawn influence in
in profile, are arranged in ground plan. Thus
we may say that their statements were pictures,
their pictures were statements.

There is a wall-painting in the British Museum
showing a fish pond or tank in a garden, sur-

rounded by trees. The inclosed water is
rendered by a flat tint of pale blue, with hori-
zontal zigzag lines in a second tint across it.
Lotus flowers and buds spring vertically from
it, and on its surface ducks and fish are painted
in profile. The trees are painted on the upper
side and ends with their stems springing from
the edge of the pond ; but the row of trees
on the near side grows with the tops towards

the water; while the row at each end sprouts
outward. The whole forms a very pretty piece
of ornament, and would embroider well for a
table-cloth centre, or lend itself to a treatment

for a mosaic floor. Note the way in which the
trees alternate (apple trees and date palms), and
the grouping of the ducks and the fish alter-
nating with the lotus flower. It is freely painted
with direct brush touches on the white plaster.

the eastern races seem to have excelled. Trees
have always been associated with religious belief,
and have had mystical and symbolical signific-
ance—as the tree of the garden in Genesis, the
tree of life, and the fatal tree of the knowledge
of good and evil. Trees, too, were man's first
shelter and dwelling; no wonder a race de-
scended from arboreal ancestors should revere
them and hold them sacred.

It is interesting to compare this Egyptian
rendering of the date palm tree with an Assyrian
rendering of the same tree, though the latter is
sculptured; or, again, with the Grseco-Roman
version at the house of Icarius. The typical
and sacred tree with the Assyrians, however,
was the tree of life, which became with them a
formal piece of ornament. In it we seem to
see, too, the original form of a type of ornament
constantly recurring in the art of all the Asiatic

races, and which was apparently carried by
them, or from them, into Europe; reappearing
in Persian, Greek, Roman, and Renascence
work in all manner of variations, remaining a
typical horizontal border motive to our own day.

The lotus appears in sculptured Assyrian
pavements on the outer border, the open flowers
alternating with the buds, as in Egyptian work.
Then we have another typical and constantly

recurring border motive in the rosette, which has
a rich and sumptuous effect, closely filled in this
way. Then comes in the palmette, or tree of
life, while the centre filling, a network formed
of a six-petalled flower form, again recalls the
suggested textile origin of the ornamental motive
of the whole, to which I have before alluded.

Other interesting and characteristic render-
ings of flowers and trees may be found in bas-
relief upon the Assyrian alabaster slabs used

chiselling; in one slab there is a small figure of
a king in his chariot, inclosed within larger work,,
as finely cut almost as a gem or seal. Note, as
illustrating the ornamental treatment of animal
forms, so characteristic of these Assyrian or
Semitic sculptures, the way the lions are

Chap. VI. as wall decorations, such as those showing the

not only for the combination of great power
of expression and energy of action with a very
dominant formalizing and ornamental and typical
treatment of form, but also for great delicacy of

Lion,
formerly
cresting the
outer railing
of the
British
Museum.
Modelled by
Alfred
Stevens,
and cast in

Chap. VI. carved, the masses of the hair of the manes care-
Racial fully marked and ornamentally designed, the
Influence in muscular lines of the face emphasized in the
Design same ornamental manner. The result is a
typical lion, stately, monumental, sculptural,
and decorative, yet in no way wanting in energy
of action, character, and vigour.

Nothing could be more different in spirit and
style from the ordinary modern European
sculptor's treatment. The Assyrian grasped
the essential leonine character, but expressed it
in typical and ornamental terms. The modern
English, French, German, or Italian generally
seeks a naturalism which struggles to escape
from the conditions of the material; he seeks
accidents rather than essentials, and, in his
horror of formalism, tries to treat the masses of
hair and mane as if he wielded the painter's
brush rather than the sculptor's chisel—though
it is generally modelled in clay first before it is
carved. The result is loss of dignity, typical
character, and monumental feeling. Alfred
Stevens saw the importance of a certain formal-
ism, and his little lion on the uprights of the
outer railing of the British Museum remains
unequalled, so far as I know, in modern work.^

The Hellenic race, the Greeks, whose art has
had, and still possesses, such an influence over
that of the modern world, while in their archaic
period differing little in method of treatment
and in use of ornament from the Asiatic races,
the Assyrian and Egyptian and Persian, the
elements of each of which they seemed to fuse

^ For some unexplained reason these lions have been re-
moved and the London people deprived of perhaps their
finest bit of monumental work.

in sculpture, carried the human figure in sculp- influence in
ture to the greatest pitch of perfection. Their

invention in purely ornamental forms was not
conspicuous, nor was it needed, since they treated
the human figure as their chief element in de-
coration. • Their leading ornamental types may
be traced to Asiatic prototypes—the palmette

This latter type of ornament, so generally
used by the Greeks as a crest or crown upon

their upright obelisk-like tombstones or steles,
or to crest the angles of the pediments of their
temples, is suggestive in its general form of a
flame, or pair of wings.

It is noteworthy that a similar form occurs,
treated in detail in a variety of ways, as a glory
or halo placed behind Buddhist images made in
ancient India, Japan, and Burmah, often in
carved wood and gilt metal or bronze, pierced
and ornamented in a variety of ways—sometimes

suggesting leafy trees, but generally radiating
in their principal lines from a centre, like the
anthemion. The flame was a sacred symbol
with many ancient peoples, and it remains with
us as the fitting emblem of inspiration.

The gilded, almond-shaped glory inclosing
the figure of the Virgin and of Christ in Gothic
painting and sculpture seems to be another form
of the same emblem, and in Persian ornamental
design, and one might say in all Mohammedan
countries there is a similar form which con-
tinually recurs with a great variety of treatment,

It generally appears as a kind of fruit or many-
petaled flower, or flower and fruit combined,
and is common in all Persian and Eastern orna-
ment design. 1 am inclined to think that it
may have originally had a religious significance
, -i^^jjiy!.'associated with
fire or life, while
its beauty of con-
tour and adapt-
ability in decora-
tion of all kinds
were sufficient to
perpetuate it even
if the original
meaning were
lost. If the Per-
sians invented it,,
it might have had
some reference to
their own primi-
tive fire-worship,,
while with the
Arabs, and wher-
ever the faith
of Mohammed
spread, it would
still be significant
of the prophetic
fire, and it is cer-
tainly universally^
found in the ornament of Mohammedan coun-
tries. We might trace it back to its primitive
form in the Assyrian tree of life, and this on
the face of it seems its most likely source ; and
we find it in Persian work definitely taking
the pomegranate form within the rayed leaves..

Chap. VI. The rayed flower or leaf form curiously reap-
rLcM pears in a late Celtic cross in Argyllshire, in
Influence in association with the characteristic knotted work,
Design ^ j^jj^j form, and filling of pattern carved

Whatever race may really claim its invention
or first effective use, it appeals now universally
to the ornamental sense, and has become the
common property of designers, who do not
usually disturb themselves with the question
whether they have stolen a fruit from the tree
of life, or sacred fire from an unknown hearth,
so long as they can fill a space effectively or
make an attractive and adaptable design.

Another form, now no less universal, is prob-
ably Persian in origin, although it has found a
settled home in India—I mean what is known
as the Indian palmette, so familiar to designers
for Manchester calico prints.

I am told by Mr. Purdon Clarke that this palm
shape denotes benison or blessing, or a message
of goodwill of some kind. This answers to
the symbolical meaning of the palm in the Bible,
as carried by benign and holy persons and
angels. Here would be a symbolical reason for
its longevity in ornament, as it would naturally
commend itself to an eastern race in a sun-burnt
land, to whom the suggestion of shady palms
would always be grateful. But here, again, the
beauty of its contour appeals to the ornamentist
on independent grounds. He values it for its
graceful mass in a pattern, for its bold and
sweeping curves, for its value as an inclosing
form for small floral fittings.

To the Persian and Hindu designers, with
their exquisite and subtle sense of ornament,

Chap. VI. with their passion for elaborate intricacy, such
rIcILi ^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^ utilized to its utmost capacity,
Influence in both in counterbalancing and superimposed
Design masses upon flowery fields, and as inclosures
for smaller fields of pattern ; while the abundant
flora of their spring-time blossoms in a new and
translated existence in their richly patterned
printed and woven textiles, and in the carved
ornament of their buildings.

The influence in Arabic ornament of the
Mohammedan faith, too, in forbidding the
representation of living forms, turned the in-
genuity and invention of the Arabic and Eastern
designer in a purely ornamental direction, and
as a result we get extremely elaborate patterns,
either purely geometric, or filling the interstices
of a geometric framework in inlays and carved
and pierced work. These patterns from the
pulpit of a mosque at Cairo, now in the Ken-
sington Museum, work of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, show how fine and delicate
Arabic ornament became. We may note the
star-shape formed by the intersection of the lines.
The star is an emblem of the Deity (Allah).

The plateaus and slopes of the Himalayas,
which are the northern mountainous boundary
of India, were supposed to be the cradle of that
great wandering, colonizing, adaptive, specula-
tive, and organizing race, the Aryans, from
which we Western people, according to one
theory, have sprung, dispersing over the world,
and settling in different countries and climates.
The race has greatly differentiated in speech,
customs, and forms of art; and yet through
them all it is rather differences in similarities, or
similarities in differences, that we trace.

Chap. VI. Latin, Teutonic, Celtic, suggest great di-
Racia^i vergences both in spirit and form, yet perhaps
Influence in the correspondences are more frequent than the
Design divergences. When we see how greatly mem-
bers of the same family differ from one another
in tastes and habits, can we wonder that mem-
bers of the greater human family should be so
different in tastes and habits, under different
skies and conditions of life ?

When we turn further east the difference
seems greater, the gaps larger. The Mon-
golian race seems further apart and suggests
a remoter antiquity. Their geographical re-
moteness and their persistent adhesion to their
ancient customs seem to have fixed more or
less of a gulf between them and the western
peoples, and there is a corresponding contrast
in the forms of their art. It is familiar, and yet
remains strange ; it has been constantly imported
amongst us, and has more than once influenced
European fashions in decorative design, as in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries through
the Dutch, and in the last century in England
in Chippendale furniture and porcelain, while
China has given its name to the finer ware of
the modern potter, of which it taught him the
secret. To this day the willow pattern in blue
upon plates and dishes, with its Chinese legend,
scenery, and personages, remains a popular
pattern, wonderfully little changed by its English
translator. All the typical characteristics are
found in its details, the typical Chinese house
raised upon its first story of stone—with its
bamboo trellises and quaintly curved tiled roof.
The Chinese dragon remains a distinct breed,
influencing here and there the form of the

mythical beasts in design of other races, such
as the Persian and Indian, but remaining as
characteristically Chinese itself as the Pagoda.

The love of trellis-like backgrounds and
diagonal diapers for floral designs is a very
marked feature with the Chinese designer, and

Panel in
carved and
inlaid
Wood
from the
Mosque of
Tooloon
in Cairo.
XlVth or
XVth
century
Saracenic

it suggests the native fantastic and ingenious
bamboo constructions used in the framing and
panelling of their dwellings and temples, domi-
nated by that distinct love of quaintness and
queerness which seems a part of the artistic
sense in the yellow race, and is as marked
as their love of bright colour and emphatic
pattern.

Chap. VI. Their formidable neighbours, relations, and
?n£encein "vals, the Japanese, exhibit in the art up to a
Design Certain stage much the same qualities and in-
fluences, their art indicating a gradual trans-
formation in style from the primitive mythical
and religious and symbolical towards the more
domestic, familiar, and naturalistic. But before
coming into contact with European forms of art
they began to develop a naturalistic feeling in
their art which in the present century has be-
come the dominant note, and, joined with a
certain inventive quaintness and ornamental
reserve, has had so tremendous an influence
upon the art of Europe, more especially modern
French art.

Only about forty or fifty years ago Japan was
practically in a mediaeval condition, its arts and
handicrafts in a most fertile and flourishing condi-
tion of living traditions ; but that very quickness
and alertness, that receptivity and artistic im-
pressionableness which has enabled them to
produce such a mass of wonderful work in so
many branches of cunning craftsmanship, have
exposed them to the modern European in-
fluences, which, however they may have, in the
process of rapid assimilation, contributed to
their material power as a nation in the modern
capitalistic and industrial sense, have had most
disastrous commercializing and deteriorating
effects upon Japanese art and handicraft, lead-
ing to hasty work and cheap and gaudy pro-
duction—merely to catch the demand.

Artistic and racial traditions, however, die
hard. Even in Western Europe, in constant
intercourse and intercommunication as we now
are, and while international influence tends to

soften and blend racial differences, and social chap. vi.
relations to mix them, elements which differ-
entiate the Teuton from the Latin, the Celt from Design
the Saxon, still survive. In the process of the
adoption of even the same ideas each race, each
nation, gives a different interpretation to them,
just as different individuals will give a different
interpretation iii drawing from the same model.
The character is not changed by the new dress,
and the dress becomes influenced by the wearer.
Thus, in adopting ideas and forms of art, a new
direction or character is developed owing to the
racial instincts of the people adopting them.

German Renascence work, for instance, may
be full of details, the forms of which come from
Italy or Greece, but the combination and treat-
ment, the application of them, become charac-
teristically German—characteristically full of
detail, and fantastic, with a tendency to be
overloaded and restless, like their Gothic work.
Such variations of the same type among different
peoples may be likened to the variations of lan-
guage in the same country, where the same
language is spoken, but with a different accent.

It is this difference of accent now, under our
complex modern life, which makes the chief
difference in forms of art, and which betrays
racial influence. The actual systems of building
pattern, of pattern forms, methods of drawing
and modelling figures, and the various handi-
crafts have all been discovered long ago, but it is
in their re-combination and adaptation—our in-
terpretation and use of them, and in the power
of variation and expression, that modern inven-
tion and predilection tell.

bolize the fundamental racial characteristics and
preferences by certain typical forms and colours
in procession.

The races inhabiting the warm countries,
southern and eastern, would be distinguished
by emphatic contrasting colours and patterns.
Just as the tiger owes his barred coat to his
habit of hiding in coverts and jungles, where
the bright sunlight falls through the tall grasses
and palms in stripes ; so where the contrast of
light and shade is so sharp as in Africa, there
appears to be a deeply-rooted preference for
barred colours and striped patterns among the
dark race, which they have carried with them
to America, and which curiously reappears as a
necessary part of the equipment of the sham
Ethiopian serenader in our streets.

The black and white or red and white barred
courses characteristic of Arabian and Moorish
architecture have been alluded to before, and,
though they have been used in other countries,
they always suggest the country which seems to
have given them birth.

Supposing, then, we wanted to express in a
typical symbolical way the racial preferences and
characteristics in ornamental art, a black and white
barred shield and a palm might be appropriate
pattern emblems for the African or the Moor;
while the Egyptian would naturally bear a lotus
and a scarabaeus, with a winged globe for a
standard ; the Assyrian a tree of life; the Persian
would bear the flame-shaped flower, and the de-
vice of Ormuzd and Ahrimanes contending for
the mastery; the Indian would carry the palmette
and a peacock, and would share with the Arab
the geometric star-form and richly floriated

robes; the Chinese would show the dragon chap. vi.
blazon, and carry the peony; the Japanese the fnflSe^e^in^
red disk of the rising sun, and a bough of plum Design
blossom; the Turanian the crescent and the
star; the Greek the anthemion, and the figure of
Pallas Athene; the Roman an eagle standard,
and an image, of Mars; the Scandinavian a
raven, and a runic knot. These might represent
the ancient world of art. The modern and
western races it would be more difficult to
symbolize in so primitive and typical a manner,
since all of them have borrowed so largely from
the ancient sources, and are themselves com-
posed of such mixed and complex elements,

Italian art could only be represented by a
fusion of most of the foregoing elements and types,
and would require a crowd of distinguished re-
tainers in architecture, sculpture, painting, and
all the arts of design; but perhaps she might
bear a typical classical scroll for a standard, as
the typical designer of that form of ornament in
so many varieties, from Roman times down-
wards, that Italy may be said to have made the
scroll form essentially her own.

Germany might follow, great in bold and
brave heraldry, or with a Gothic accent in richly-
scrolled mantling, and a redundant display of
Renascence ornament.

France, as a more volatile Pallas Athene,
might, perhaps, bear the wavering lamp of
executive and imitative skill, and dramatic in-
stinct in design.

Spain would look coquettishly under a fan,
wrapped in faded embroidery, bearing the Al-
hambra, like a pendent jewel: while for England,
what artistic emblems are left ? Well, we have

been described as inveterate colonists, even in
art We can only make up in a fancy costume
of historic patchwork, beginning with fragments
of Roman mosaic pavement, by way of sandals,
Saxon and Norman hOse, Gothic surcoat and
body armour, a classical cloak, and a Victorian
Queen Anne gable by way of headgear, and
perhaps a banner of eclectic wall-paper or printed
cotton.

For all that, and perhaps because of it in some
measure—did we take art seriously as a nation,
and make it really a natural and essential part
of our life, as it is its final expression—should
we determine to set our house in order, and
make England again "merrie,'' strong in her
own borders, self-supporting, and self-reliant,
not suffering the natural beauty of our land or
our historic monuments to be ruthlessly defaced,
in the supposed interests of trade ; putting our
trust in the capacity of the people, rather than
in the multiplication of machines ; uniting hand
and brain in our work, thinking more of the
ends of life and less of the means, when the
means of an ample, simple life shall be within
the reach of every citizen, then, well—then we
might fairly expect to win the palm of life, as of
art, without despoiling the African.

JL ideas seems to have impelled man from symbolic
the earliest, and lies at the root of all art. influence, or

While much early ornament, as we have seen, li'^memln'^
is traceable to a constructive origin, another Design
kind, or another branch of the tree of design is
traceable to a symbolic origin, and springs from
the endeavour to express thought—to find a
succinct language in which to express some
sense of the great powers of nature, and their
influence upon the daily life of man—to embody
even in a pictorial emblem, symbol, or allegory
his primitive conceptions of the order of the
universe itself.

The mystery and wonders of nature absorbed
the thoughts and touched the imagination of
early as of later man, and primitive symbolic
forms, or signs, constantly bear upon such ideas.

There is a symbolic sign (known to archaeo- The Fylfot
logists as the fylfot or smwastikd) of very
simple form, which is found very widely scattered
among the relics of many different races and
early peoples. "It is found," says Dr. March

Chap. VII. (of the Lancashire and Cheshire Archaeological
Symbolic Society, who has written very suggestively and
Influence, or learnedly on the subject), "on archaic Greek

Element in pottery, on the Stamped clay oi bwiss lake
Design dwellings, adorning Latin inscriptions on Roman
altars"; is common in India and Asia; is met
with in Scandinavia, Iceland, Shetland, and
Scotland; in Celtic Ireland, in Saxon England,
as well as in Germany. The sign was adopted
by Christians, is found in the catacombs of
Rome, in the cathedrals of Winchester and
Exeter, on a shield in the Bayeux tapestry, and
on English mediaeval brasses. It also occurs
on a bell at Hathersage Church in Derbyshire,
dated 1617.

This sign appears to have originally signified
the supreme god of the Aryans, and became
the emblem of the divinity from whom emanates
the one movement of the universe ; later, it may
have merely indicated the axial rotation of the
heavens round the Pole Star, and still later it
was used simply as a benedictory sign or mark
of good luck. When the feet were turned to
the left the nocturnal movement of the stars was
suggested, and when the feet turned to the right
the diurnal movement of the sun was supposed
to be indicated. The sign is frequently placed
in a circle. A very few of its stages will suffice
to show its transformation into ornament. We
may thus see how a sign purely symbolical,
used as we should use writing, becomes in
course of time a decorative unit, and is incor-
porated into ornament. A kindred form is
composed of three crescents, which has its
heraldic descendant in three armoured legs of
the bearings of the Isle of Man. Here we

seem to see the idea of rotation very emphatic- chap. vii.
ally conveyed. ^ , ^ ^ , ijmboiic

found (as on the Danish bracUate) in association
with the fylfot sign shown above, form linear
patterns in themselves, and frequently recur in
constructive and surface ornament; the former
suggesting the method of setting the Roman

bricks, called " herring bone," which constantly
occurs in modern work in brick paving and
wood parquet, forming one of the simplest and

The zigzag, as an ornament incised on clay
vessels painted in patterns, or carved in masonry

Chap. VII.
Of the
Symbolic
Influence, or
Emblematic
Element in
Design

Polynesian

Carved

Ornament

has been a very favourite form from the ancient
Egyptian decorators (to whom it possessed its
original significance as water) onwards, becom-
ing in later times more particularly characteristic
of Scandinavian ornament and Romanesque
architecture. The zigzag, ^mmmmmmm^
however, appears to have an
independent source and mean-
ing in the evolution of Poly-
nesian ornament. In the so-
called " Paddles," decorated
with carv-
ed patterns
which are
now con-
sidered to
be really
tables of
descent, we

ranged formally, the legs and
arms bent. The angles thus
formed, in the course of re-
petition and abbreviation, be-
come simple lines of zigzag
pattern.

The circle, a universal and important element
in ornamental design of all times and kinds,
appears early as a symbol for the sun. We
might trace it from its primitive cross and disk
and rayed ornament common to all primitive
art to the splendid Greek conception of Phoebus
Apollo in his chariot drawn by fiery horses,

Chap. VII.
Of the
Symbolic
Influence, or
Emblematic
Element in
Design

Polynesian
Ornament.
Evolution
of the
Zigzag

Chap. VII. which figures so constantly in Greek design,
Symbolic circular flaming disk being represented in

Influence, or the wheel, though in an early relief discovered
EJ^me^ln" by Dr. Schliemann the head of Apollo is sur-
Design rounded by rays, which gives the type gener-
ally used by Gothic and modern designers in
symbolic representations of the sun—simply a
face in the circle surrounded by rays.

Another means of symbolical expression by
the use of the circle is to be found in a type of
Scandinavian ornament composed of three circles,
one within the other, which with the rayed sun
frequently occurs either singly, as in the form of
a metal shield boss or a fibula, or as the unit
of a repeating textile pattern, or as a border.
An Anglo-Saxon lady in a Benedictional exe-
cuted for St. Ethelwold at Winchester in the
tenth century (963-984) wears a dress so de-
corated. The original symbolic meaning of this
ornament is supposed to bear upon the Norse-
men's conception of the universe, the inner
circle, representing the midgard, or the earth;
the second, the osgard, or asgard, the abode of
the gods ; and the utgard, the world beyond,
inhabited by giants and spirits of evil. Beyond
the outer circle is a circle of dots signifying
stars. (See fig. on p. 217.)

The old Norse sagas and the songs of Edda
give the whole Norse scheme of the universe.
" Igdrasil, the great ash tree of the universe of
time and of life. The boughs stretched out into
heaven, its highest point, and overshadowed
Walhalla, the hall of the heroes. Its three
roots reached down to dark Hel, to Jotunheim,
the land of the Hrimthurses, and to Midgard,
the dwelling-place of the children of men. The

world-tree was ever green, for the fateful Norns Chap. vii.
sprinkled it daily with the water of life from the symbolic
fountain of Urd, which flowed in Midgard. But influence, or
the goat Heidrun, from whom was obtained the ii^mem^n'^
mead that nourished the heroes, and the stag Design
Eikthynir browsed upon the leaf-buds, and
upon the bark of the tree, while the roots down
below are gnawed by the dragon Nidhogg and
innumerable worms: still the ash could not

wither until the last battle should be fought,
where life, time and the world were all to pass
away. So the eagle sang its song of creation and
destruction on the highest branch of the tree." ^
It is interesting to compare such a conception
with the ancient Hindu idea of the world, which
indeed may have been its original form as the
earlier Aryan conception. There is no tree, but
the great snake of time compasses all; the ser-

pent with its tail in its mouth, an emblem of
continuous time which still survives. Upon this
rests the tortoise, which seems to correspond
with the Norsemen's dragon, though here it
may serve as the solid basis of the world. The
world appears as a sort of dome in three tiers,
reminding us of the Norsemen's three circles.
This is supported upon the backs of three
elephants, which seem here to fill the position
of the Norns or the Fates.

The ash tree Igdrasil, the sustainer of the
Norse universe, reminds one of the eastern tree
of life—the tree of life of the garden of Eden,
and the fountain of the rivers of the Asiatic
paradise which, with the figures of Adam and
Eve, the typical father and mother of the whole
human race, have so constantly figured in art
of all kinds, both eastern and western, and
continue to stand in the midst of the garden in
endless designs and pictures, surrounded by the
birds and beasts, as the type and emblem of the
origin of the world in the Christian cosmos.

The ancient Egyptians, whose art was almost
entirely in the nature of a symbolic language,
when they wished to express the divine creative
power which sustains the universe, designed a
winged globe encircled or upborne by two ser-
pents—here we get, perhaps, the snake of time
again. Sometimes the scarabseus, or sacred
beetle, emblem of transformation and immor-
tality, is represented covering an egg and sup-
porting the sun, and they are the wings of the
scarabseus which are given to the globe. This
emblem is frequently carved over the gateways
to their temples.

holism connected with death and the passage of chap. vii.
the soul. The coffins and mummy cases are gymboi

painted all over with symbolic devices, figures,
birds, and animals having a sacred significance.

Chap. VII. The soul is commonly represented as being
Symbolic borne in a boat, or barge, with curved stem and
Influence, or stem, terminating in lotus flowers. (The lotus
ii^mernln'^ symbolized new birth and resurrection.) The
Design food for the journey is shown in the urns
placed underneath the couch. Two mourners
or watchers accompany it.

There is a copy of a large painting from
Thebes in the British Museum showing the
judgment of the soul ; the Devourer, a monster
part crocodile part hippopotamus, standing
ready to devour the soul if the verdict is un-
favourable. Further on the accepted soul ap-
pears before Osiris.

The goddess Nut (the heavens) is frequently
painted upon the sarcophagi and mummy cases
in the form of a seated or kneeling figure of a
woman with very large wings outspread and
curving upwards; she holds in her hands the
feather—the symbol of power or domination.
(We still speak of the feather in the cap.) She
bears the disk of the sun upon her head. To
the Egyptians, indeed, we owe the very embodi-
ment of the mystery of existence itself—the
sphinx who continues to propound her riddle
afresh to every age.

Greek mythology again, as exemplified in
Greek art, expresses itself symbolically, and
shows a gradual development from the primitive,
ruder, and often savage personification of the
powers of nature, more allied to the conceptions
of the Northmen, to the idealized, refined,
poetic and beautiful personifications of their
later vase painting and Phidian sculpture. The
symbolic intention and the personifying method
was carried on and embodied in free and natural

forms, though always governed by the ornamental Chap. vii.
feeling and necessities of harmonious relation to symbolic
architectural and decorative conditions. influence, or

The first observers of the heavens, the primi- Ei^mernTn*^
tive herdsman, hunter, the fisherman and the Design
shepherd, have left their symbolic heraldry in
the very stars above our heads; and Charles's
or ceorls' wain and the signs of the zodiac still
remind us of the primitive life of a pastoral and
agricultural people.

The pediments of the Parthenon, for instance,
are great pieces of symbolical art, and at the
same time most beautiful as figure design and
sculpture. It is distressing to think that so
late as 1687 the Parthenon was practically com-
plete as far as its sculpture and architecture.
It was first used as a Greek Christian Church
during the Middle Ages, and then, falling into
the hands of the Turks, became a mosque ;
when the Venetians bombarded Athens in 1687
a shell dropped into the Parthenon, where the
Turks had stored their powder, and blew out
the whole centre of the building. Even in the
broken and imperfect state in which we are now
only able to see them, from the more or less
complete figures and groups which compose its
parts, we can gather an idea of the harmony and
unity of the whole, and the complete union of
the symbolism with the artistic treatment. The
whole conception strongly appealed to the senti-
ment of the Athenian citizen, since the two
pediments represented the contest of Athene
and Poseidon for the patronage of Athens, arts
and laws, or the rule of the sea. We all know
that the arts and laws won, and that Athens is
immortal by reason of her art and poetry and

Chap. VII, philosophy, not by her command of the sea.
Symbolic ^^ modern English, perhaps, might do well to
Influence, or apply the lesson, and consider that after all it is
iiemernfn'^ not in mere appropriation of riches, extension
Design of empire, material prosperity, or in our volume
of trade, that the true greatness of a country
consists, but in the capacity and heroism of her
people.

In the eastern pediment the centre group ex-
pressed the birth of Athene herself, or rather
her first appearance amongst the Olympians—
the divine virgin deity and protectress of the
city which bore her name, and whose colossal
statue in ivory and gold stood on the Acropolis
in front of the Parthenon. The other deities
are grouped around, and on one side we have
the Parcae, the three fates controlling the life of
man (which the Northmen embodied in the
Norns); then, reclining at one side where the
pediment narrows, the figure of the great
Athenian hero, Theseus; and in the extreme
angle the sun-god, Helios, with outstretched
arms is seen guiding his horses, which emerge
from the sea—being balanced at the correspond-
ing angle by Selene, the moon, descending with
her horses into the sea. Thus we have a series
of ideas expressed symbolically in heroic figures
of deep import to the Athenians, and having
also in the suggestion of the fateful control of
human life, and the continuous order of nature
in the rising sun and setting moon, a wide and
lasting significance apart from the beautiful
form and consummate art by which they are
embodied.

The Parthenon stands high upon a rocky
eminence, and from its western door you can see

Chap. vii. the blue -^gean Sea, the island of Salamis, and
Symbolic ^^^ harbour of Athens, the Pir^us. Accord-
influence, or ingly the sea-god Poseidon is sculptured upon
Ei^mernTii'' the western pediment, with Cecrops, the first
Design king and founder of Athens, with the queen.

Another conspicuous figure there is the reclin-
ing figure of Ilissus, who represents the stream
that flows around the western side of the
Acropolis. The Greeks, and the Romans who
borrowed from them, always symbolized a stream
or a fountain by a reclining figure, half turned
upon its side, and very frequently leaning upon
an urn placed horizontally, from the mouth of
which flows the wavy lines of water.

There is in the Vatican a Roman representa-
tion of the River Nile as a colossal reclining
figure with long flowing hair and beard, like
Zeus or Poseidon, holding a paddle. His
tributaries being represented by a number of
small Cupid-like boys, who clamber and play
about him, or nestle at his side. The land of
Egypt is typified by the sphinx upon which the
figure leans.

Father Thames has often figured in " Punch "
depicted by John Tenniel as an old man with
long hair and beard, not unlike his prototype,,
but somewhat degraded and worse for wear.

The Greek gods, too, and their Roman
representatives were each distinguished by their
proper and appropriate emblems, as well as by
marked differences of character and physical
type.

Chronos, or Time, afterwards Saturn, is al-
ways known by his scythe; Zeus or Jupiter,
the Thunderer, by his thunderbolt; Poseidon or
Neptune by his trident; Helios by his horses, and

Apollo by his bow ; Aphrodite or Venus by the
golden apple won by the most beautiful ; Pallas
Athene, or the Roman Minerva, as goddess of
the arts, by her serpent, her lamp, and her owl
of wisdom; Artemis or Diana by the crescent
Hermes or Mercury by his caduceus—the

serpent-twined staff, which has in modern times
become an emblem of commerce—since Mercury
was the messenger, the fetcher, and carrier of
the ancients, quick-witted and keen, and, accord-
ing to some legends, not over scrupulous. His
rod and serpents have reference to the story of
his parting two snakes in combat, in which
might be read a modern meaning of the in-

Chap. VII. dividual gaining fortune through commercial
Symbolic competition, though that is not its usual signi-
influence, or fication. I Only offer it as an example of reading
ii^mernln'^ a new meaning into an ancient symbol. Then,
Design of course, Heracles or Hercules bears the apples
of the Hesperides, or the Nemean lion's skin and
his club. In the Hesperides story of the dragon-
guarded tree of golden apples, and its three
guardian sisters, we seem to have another form
of the tree of life and the fates. An interesting
Greek relievo in marble, enriched with mosaic
in parts, at Wilton House, shows the Hesperi-
dean tree with the apples, and twined with the
guardian serpent, with Paris seated and Aphro-
dite approaching as if asking for the apple—
the prize of the most fair.

In the ancient Greek story of Pandora and
her box—so suggestive a subject to artists, and
fruitful in art—we have the classical version of
the fall of man and origin of evil.

In the no less picturesque and poetical story
of Persephone (or Proserpina), the daughter of
Ceres, carried away by Pluto, the king of the
underworld, darkness, and death, we have a
beautiful allegory of the spring and the winter,
since Persephone was allowed to return every
year to the earth for a season, after she had
eaten of the fatal pomegranate tree which grew
in Pluto's garden.

One might multiply instances of the symbolic
character of classical story and its symbolic
embodiment in Greek and Roman art, but we
must pass on to touch upon other sources and
aspects of symbolism and emblem in art.

We know that many of our old fairy tales
have a symbolical origin in ancient mythology,

and have taken new and varied forms and chap. vii.
local colours as they have travelled from their symbolic
southern and eastern homes, and become natu- influence, or
ralized in the art and literatures of different ll^mernYn''
countries. Design

In such tales as "Jack and the Beanstalk"
and " The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood," the
climbing hero ascending the heavens to destroy
the giant of darkness, in the first, the hero
penetrating the darkness and awakening his
destined bride from her enchanted sleep, in the
second, for instance, the old solar mythology
has been traced, and if we could trace the old
folk tales back to their sources we might find
them all related to primitive mythology or hero
and ancestor worship. Thus do the spirits of
the remote past sit at our firesides still, and
kindle the imagination of our little folks : and
in the rich tapestry of story and picture which
each age weaves around it, elements from many
different sources are continually and almost
inextricably interwoven, as if the warp of
human wonder and imagination was crossed
with many coloured threads of mythological
lore, history and allegory, symbolism and ro-
mance.

The early Christians, no less than the pagans,
felt the necessity for symbols of their faith ; and
while at first borrowing considerably, and in-
corporating in their art forms belonging to the
other faith they were supplanting, gradually,
with the rise of power and influence, emblems
more peculiarly belonging to an expression of
the Christian ideal were adopted, or underwent
considerable transformation. The design met
with in the mosaics of the sixth century at

Chap. VII. Ravenna, the mausoleum of Galla Placidia, of
Sym^boiic ^^^ stags drinking from a fountain, embody-
infiuence. or ing the Psalmists' verse beginning, " As the hart

Chap. VII.
Of the
Symbolic
Influence, or
Emblematic
Element in
Design

Christian
Emblem.
Peacocks
and Vine.
Sarco-
phagus.
St. Apol-
linare in
Classe,
Ravenna.

I !

I. '

Chap. VII. Dionysos, and represented to them the divine,
Sy^^oiic life-giving earth-spirit continually renewing it-
influence, or self, and bringing ioy to men.

Although the symbolic use no less than the
decorative beauty of winged figures had long
ago been recognized, as Asiatic, Egyptian, and
Greek art show, yet the Christian angel, both
in its refined, half-classical form, as developed
by the early Italian painters and sculptors from
the thirteenth century onwards, and in northern
Gothic work, became a distinct and beautiful
type in art. In the work of Fra Angelico and
Benozzo Gozzoli the angel figures are especially
lovely.

No less distinct in its grotesqueness was the
mediaeval devil, although its origin was very
probably the satyr of ancient classical art. The
Roman satyr, with goat-legs and hoofs, bearded
head, horns, and tail, furnishes, in fact, a very
close prototype ; and, being banned long ago as
pagan when Christianity was in hand-to-hand
conflict with paganism, would be sufficient to
associate such a form with evil. There are
some fiends represented in Orcagna's fresco,
" The Triumph of Death," which are quite
satyr-like, despite talons and bats' wings. Al-
though with the Greeks the great god Pan is a
mild and gentle deity enough, and though of
the earth earthy, in a sense, yet as symbolical
of spontaneous nature, and simple animal exist-
ence, piping on his reeds by the riverside, he
always remains a favourite with the poet and
the artist. Signorelli, for instance, in a beautiful
picture (which our National Gallery somehow
missed the opportunity of acquiring), gives a
fine presentment of him.

It is interesting to compare the mediaeval
embodiments of evil with the ancient Persian

symbolical representation of a combat of a king
with a griffin, which may represent the con-
flict of Ormuzd and Ahrimanes as the typical

Chap. VII.
Of the
Symbolic
Influence, or
Emblematic
Element in
Design

Orcagna.
Fiends from
"The

Triumph of

Death."

Fresco.

Campo

Santo,

Pisa

The creature (representing evil) is winged,
and has birds' claws for its hind feet (like
Orcagna's fiends), and lions' paws for its fore
feet, the body of an ox or horse, the beak of an
eagle or griffin, in some instances, in others it
appears with a bull's head, and is certainly sug-
gestive of power and terror.

The favourite Greek conception of the cen-
taur, too, is an expressive symbolic embodiment
of animal force, and the mythical sculptural com-
bat in the metopes of the Parthenon is again
suggestive of the conflict between the higher
and the lower elements of human nature.

Returning again to Christian art, we find the
image of the lamb, with the banner of the cross,
was the badge of the Templar; and we find
abundant symbolism in the various emblems
and attributes of the apostles, saints, and mar-
tyrs, distinguished by the various emblems of
their evangel, conversion, or martyrdom. The
mystic symbols of the four evangelists are well
known to every ecclesiastical designer-—the bull
of St. Matthew, the lion of St. Mark, the angel
of St. Luke, the eagle of St. John.

The winged lion of St. Mark has become the
distinguishing badge of the city of Venice, since
the evangelist was supposed to be buried in the
great church dedicated to his name. Its image
in bronze upon the column in the Piazza im-
presses itself upon the eye and imagination of
every visitor, while its companion, St. George
and the Dragon, we generally claim as the
patron saint of England, and the red cross
forms the basis of our national flag.

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-P\ncieisnrp£RSiANScuLrfaR€.- PcRsepous.
Prom Perrot 1«, cbipiej -wiit-of

Chap. VII. Now national heraldry is often derived from
Symbolic bearings of families or chiefs. Of such is

Influence, or our royal Standard with its Plantagenet leopards
Ei^mern^n'^ and red lion of the Scottish kings. Though in
Design the Irish harp we seem to get a purely national
emblem, strictly speaking it is the heraldic
bearing of one of the four provinces—Leinster.

These heraldic bearings and badges had their
origin in very remote times, and we must go
back to earliest forms of human society, to the
gens, and the tribe, who named themselves
after some animal or plant, and adopted it as
the distinguishing mark and ensign of the family
to which they belonged, or to such primitive
times as we read of in Mr. William Morris's
" Roots of the Mountains ' and " House of the
Wolfings," where he speaks of " The House of
the Steer" and "The House of the Raven." The
distinguishingbadges would be carved or painted
over the porch, and borne upon the shield of the
chief and the banner in battle.

In feudal times the practice was continued
until family heraldry, owing to intermarriage,
became very complicated, and family shields
much quartered.

Distinctness and definite characterization of
form were highly necessary, since in battle it
was important to distinguish your enemies from
your friends, and the banner of the chieftain, the
knight, or king, would be the rallying point for
their followers and retainers.

^ Heraldry became regulated by strict rules,
and is now called a science, though its vitality
and meaning have departed, except in an anti-
quarian and archaeological sense. It has, how-
ever, a certain decorative value to the designer,

Chap. VII. as illustrating the principle of counterchange of
Symbolic colours, and from the heraldry of the mediaeval
Influence, or period much may be learned in point of decorat-
eI^S." ive treatment. ^

following the development of weapons, and the
changes in armour and mode of fighting in
different periods.

There is the round shield of the ancients used
both by Greeks and Norsemen. This with the
Greeks had pieces cut out at the sides some-
times. There was also a moon-shaped shield,
similar in form to the shield used by our old
invaders the Danes. Then we get the paral-
lelogram, kite-shaped and oval shields of the
Romans ; the kite-shaped shield of the Nor-
mans ; the lancet pointed shield, cut square at
the top, of the first crusades. The Gothic
shield becomes more variously hollowed and
shaped with the development of plate armour,
and in the fifteenth century frequently has a
space cut out on the outer edge to allow of the
tilting lance of the knight passing through with-
out interfering with the guard. In Renascence
times there was a revival of classical and fanciful
forms in shields, but with the use of fire-arms
shields declined, until the small steel buckler for
the short-sword became its last working repre-
sentative.

The character and the art of heraldic devices
varies very much according to these changes in
methods of warfare, and was also affected % the
state of the arts generally.

We have only to compare the bold and frank
heraldry of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries
with the coach-painter's heraldry of the present

Chap. VII. to realize the great change in feeling. Compare a
Symbolic Plaiitagenet lion with a Victorian one, a mediaeval
Influence, or griffin with a nineteenth century specimen.

simple and bold for the sake both of distinctness
and ornamental effect. He emphasized certain
features of his animals : he insisted very much,
for instance, upon the claws of the lion, its mane
and tail, its open mouth and tongue; in short,
he felt it was his first business to make a bold
and striking pattern, and whatever the forms of
his heraldry, they were controlled by this feeling.

Heraldic devices formed a large part of the
ornamental design of the Middle Ages in all
kinds of materials. They were abundantly used
in dress patterns and in hangings and textiles
of all kinds. In the beautiful Sicilian silk stuffs,
for instance, a leading feature of the repeat often
consists of an emblematic or heraldic device of
animals or birds, which give character and agree-
able massiveness to the pattern.

Mediaeval brasses afford many beautiful ex-
amples of heraldic treatment. Indeed, for orna-
mental feeling, expressed by very simple means
and under very limited conditions, those of the
thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries
afford beautiful instances, which may be most
profitably studied by designers of all kinds.
Mr. Creeny's book on the Continental brasses
may be recommended as containing many very
beautiful examples from his own rubbings,
notably from Belgium. Two specimens are
given in Chapter VIII.

But the love of symbol and emblem did not
expire with the vigour of heraldic design. In-
deed, a certain impetus was given to it by the

invention of printing, which, diverting it into chap. vii.
another channel, seemed to give it fresh hfe in symbolic
association with literature. The sixteenth cen- influence, or
tury was remarkable for its love of allegory and
emblem, which was no doubt stimulated by the Design
opening up of the stores of classical lore at the
Renascence, and by the general stir and activity
of thought of a time of transition, when new
and old ideas were in conflict or in process of
fusion. Life was full of variety, contrast, hope,
fear, strife, love, art, romance and poetry, learn-
ing and the beginnings of scientific discovery.
Out of the seethings of such elements, joined
with the relics of mediaeval naiveti and quaint-
ness,came into existence the emblem book, which
offered compact pictorial epigrams, by means of
the woodcut and the printing press, to fit every
phase of human life, thought, and vicissitude.

Holbein's "Dance of Death" was really a
book of emblems, and the subject was a
favourite one with the German sixteenth cen-
tury designers. Very ancient ideas reappeared
in these books, unearthed by scholars from all
sorts of sources, from the ancient Egyptians
onwards. Such designs as those of the pelican
feeding its young from its own breast, and the
stork carrying its parent on its back, constantly
reappear ; and also the bees making their hive
in a helmet, with the motto Ex bello pax, which
reminds one of Samson's riddle of sweetness
and strength.

The device of the crab, too, with a butterfly
between its claws, and the motto Festina lente
—hasten slowly—is a favourite. The phoenix,
also, borrowed from ancient Egypt, but nowa-
days generally associated with life insurance.

pestuous sea, to express her fickleness and un-
certainty, often appears. The fate of Ambition,
in the fable of Phaeton falling from Apollo's car;

the snake in the grass—Latet anguis in herba;
labour in vain, a man pouring water into a
sieve, the sieve held by blindfold Love, also
figures; the ass loaded with dainties and rich

food, but stooping to eat the thistle by the way- chap. vii.
side, appears as a symbol of Avarice. yEsop's symbolic

fables were utilized, and classical mythology, in
fact all was fish to the moral net of the emblem
designer, and the multiplication of such collec-

Chap. VII. tions in printed books is evidence of the moral-
Symboiic philosophizing tendency of the times, and

Elaborate designs, such as one of Romeyn de
Hooghe (1670)—following the tablet of Cebes,
b.c. 390, or the Latin version of 1507—alle-
gorizing human life as a whole, from birth to
death, under the device of a labyrinth or maze,
with figures wandering about in its walks, under
different influences, down to simple devices like
the moth and the candle, are comprehended in
these emblem books; but it is only reducing to
small compass and to compact, portable, and
popular form the same spirit of quaint invention
which covered the walls and ceilings of great
houses and public halls and tapestries with per-
sonifications, like the splendid series of the
" Triumphs" of Petrarch, Love, Time, Death,
and Chastity in our National Museum at South
Kensington, as well as endless embodiments of
the seasons, the senses, the virtues, and the
vices. Emblematic art, however, like heraldry,
became overlaid with pedantry, and its artistic
interest died when its form became prescribed,
and precedent and rule took the place of original
invention.

The chief scope for symbol and emblem in
our time lies in the province of decorative
design, which in its highest forms may be
regarded as the metre or poetry of art. The
designer, like the poet, rejoices in certain limita-
tions, which, while they fix and control his form
and treatment, leave him extraordinary freedom
in dealing suggestively with themes difficult or
impossible to be approached in purely natural-
istic form.

It is true we find emblematic art in very stiff chap. vii.
and degraded forms, and applied to quite hum- symbolic
drum purposes. It is largely used in commerce, influence, or
for instance, and one may find classical fable and Eiememln'^
symbolism reduced to a trade mark or a poster. Design
Still trade marks, after all, fill the place, in our
modern commercial war, of the old knightly
heraldry—shorn of its splendour and romance,
certainly—and given trade marks and posters
they might as well be designed, and would
serve their purpose more effectively if they
were treated more according to the principles
of mediaeval heraldry, since they would gain at
once character, distinctness, and decorative effect.

Allegorical art has, too, a modern popular
form in the region of political satire and carica-
ture, often potent to stir or to concentrate poli-
tical feeling. This is almost a distinct province,
to which many able and vigorous artists devote
their lives and show their invention in the effect-
ive way in which the political situation is put
into some piece of familiar symbolism which all
can recognize and remember.

In the region of poetic design symbolism
must always hold its place. When the artist
desires to soar a little above the passing moment
to suggest the past, to peer into the future ;
when he looks at human life as a complete
whole, and the life of the race as an unbroken
chain; when he would deal with thoughts of
man's origin and destiny, of the powers and
passions that sway him, of love, of hope and
fear, of the mystery of life and nature, the
drama of the seasons, he must use figurative
language, and seek the beautiful and permanent
images of emblematic design.

I^HE graphic influence!" my readers may
exclaim, " what existence has design apart
from this, since the depicting power with what-
ever pencil, brush, modelling tool, chisel, pen is
by its very nature bound up with it ?"

That is quite true, yet for all that there is
discernible a very distinct line of cleavage in
art, a distinction of spirit and aim which seems
to have divided or characterized artists and
epochs from the very earliest.

I have often alluded to the drawings of the
prehistoric cave men. These graphic outlines
of animals, although generally incised upon the
handles of weapons, always appear to me to
indicate the purely naturalistic aim as distinct
from the ornamental sense, as if the first object
of the primitive artist had been to get as exact
a profile as possible of the animals he knew;
just as a modern artist, with superior facilities
of pencil and paper, might make sketches at the
Zoological Gardens without any idea of making
them parts of a decorative design. The main
difference seems to be that in purely graphic or
naturalistic drawing individual characteristics or
differences are sought for, while in ornamental

Chap. VIII. or decorative drawing typical forms or corre-
olaphic spondences are sought for.

Influence, or In the course of the development of historic
S^TeTign"" art in different countries and among different
peoples, under different social and political
systems, we may yet discern a kind of strife for
ascendency between these two principles, which
still divide the world of art; and though in the

most perfect art the two are found reconciled
and harmonized, as being really two sides of the
same question, the general feeling for art seems
to swing from one side to the other, like the
tides in ebb and flow. At one time human
feeling in art seeks to perpetuate types, symbols,
and emblems of the wonder of life and the
mysteries of the universe, as in the art of ancient
Egypt. At another its interest is absorbed in
the representation of individual characteristics

and varieties, striving to follow nature through Chap. viii.
her endless subtleties and transformations, as in Q^ap^ic
our own day ; when the different aims inspiring influence, or
our artists might be set down as— " "

things as they appear to be.
Under whatever differences of method or ma-
terial, I believe it will be found that this real
difference of mental attitude behind them ac-
counts for the varieties we see, that is to say, in
any genuine and thoughtful work.

Every sincere artist naturally desires to realize
his conception to the best of his ability, in the
most harmonious and forceful way ; but in the
course of the development of a work of art of
any kind there are problems to be solved at
every turn.

Is it a piece of repeating surface ornament
we are designing ? We feel we must subordinate
parts to the whole, we must see that our leading
structural lines are harmonious, we cannot
emphasize a bit of detail without reference to
the total effect. We may find the design wants
simplifying, and have to strike out even some
element of beauty. Such sacrifices are frequently
necessary. Our love of naturalism may induce
us to work up our details, our leaves and flowers,
to vie with natural appearance in full light and
relief, until we find we are losing the repose and
sense of quiet planes essential to pattern work,
and getting beyond the capacities of our material,
so that we may realize that even skill and
graphic power may be inartistic if wrongly ap-
plied or wasted in inappropriate places.

Chap. VIII. Is it a landscape we desire to transcribe or
Gra^phic express upon paper or canvas ? Sun and shadow
Influence, or flit across it, changing every moment dark to
S Design"" light and light to dark, so that the general
emphasis and expression of the scene constantly
vary, like the expression of a human face, as we
watch it. Which shall we choose ? Which
seems the most expressive, the most beautiful ?
Again, shall we content ourselves with a general
superficial impression, leaving details vague ?

Shall we aim at truth of tone, or truth of local
colour ? Shall we dwell on the lines of the com-
position ? Shall we spend all our care upon
getting the planes right, or rely for our main
interest upon light and shade and delicate de-
finition of detail ?

All these different problems belong to graphic
representation of nature, to graphic methods of
drawing and design, and the w^ork of 'different
artists is distinguished usually by the way in
which they seem to feel—the particular aspect or
truth on which they mostly dwell in their work.

254

Even the most abstract symbolic or orna- chap. viii.
mental drawing in pure outline must have some Q^g^phic
graphic qualitv, though intentionally limited to influence, or
the expression of few facts. D'Tigr

The method by which an ancient Egyptian
painter or hieroglyphic carver blocked out a
vulture or a hawk, relying either solely on truth

of mass or silhouette, or on outline and emphatic
marking of the masses of the plumage, or the
salient characteristics, such as claws and beak,
although extremely abstract, was full of natural
truth and fact as far as it went, and left no doubt
as to the birds depicted.

Something of the same kind of quality is
found in Japanese drawings of birds, with less
severity and monumental feeling. The graphic

or naturalistic feeling is strongest and the in-
dividual accidents are dwelt upon. In modern

European natural history drawings of birds and
animals, we often lose this bold graphic sense
of character in the general aspect, while small

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Japanese
Graphic Art.
From " The
Hundred
Birds of
Bari"

superficial details of plumage and textures are
carefully attended to. There is often less life

though actually more likeness. The general
tendency in the development of the art of a
people seems to have been from the formal,

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Japanese
Graphic Art,
From "The
Hundred
Birds of
Bari"

Chap. VIII. monumental, and symbolic type of representation
Gmphic design in strict relation to architectural

Influence, or structure and decoration, towards freer natural-
ta^D^sIgn*" ism, individual portraiture, and a looser graphic
style.

We may trace this tendency even in the
strictly monumental and stereotyped art of
ancient Egypt, which notably in the portrait
sculpture even of the ancient empire is remark-
able for extraordinary realism; and in the wall
painting of the later period of the Theban
empire (as in the tomb of Beni Hasan), which
show considerable freedom and vitality.

A most notable example of realism is the
famous " Scribe" in the Louvre, a coloured
statuette, believed to date from the fifth or sixth
dynasty, of extraordinary vitality. The eyes
consist of an iris of rock crystal, surmounting a
metal pupil, and set in an eyeball of opaque
white quartz.

Greek sculpture, again, shows a gradual de-
velopment from the archaic period, in which it
resembles early Asiatic art, up to the refinement,
freedom, and beauty of design of the Phidian
period, when the balance between naturalistic
feeling and monumental feeling appears to have
been perfect. Then later, as the result of a
desire for more obvious naturalism and dramatic
expression, we get quite a different feeling in
the sculptures of the frieze of the great altar at
Pergamos, which represents the strife of the gods
and the Titans—a tremendous subject, worked
out with extraordinary power, skill, and learn-
ing in alto relievo ; but despite the energy and
dramatic movement, after the delicacy and re-
poseful beauty of the Parthenon sculptures, we

Chap. VIII. feel that these quahties have been gained at a
Graphic considerable cost and loss ; but it is interesting
Influence, or as representing the more realistic and dramatic
Tn^IsiT side of Greek art.^

But the grace and charm of Greek art never
seemed really to die out. All the best Roman
art was inspired by it, if not actually carried
out by Greek artists; and, owing to Greek
colonies, Greek traditions had long been natural-
ized in Italy, where they found a congenial soil.
Fine portrait sculpture was done in the imperial
period—as the Augustus and the head of Julius
Csesar and many other well-known busts testify.
Also the truth and beauty of some of their
animal sculpture we may see in the fine style
of the frieze of sacrificial animals discovered
in 1872 in the Forum. We seem to see the
Greek spirit in the decorative splendour of the
Byzantine period, and again, in Italian dress,
inspiring the painters and sculptors of the early
Renascence, in the work of Giotto, Ghiberti, and
Donatello for instance. With the development of
Gothic architecture in the thirteenth century a
new and distinct feeling for naturalism arose^
which influenced through architecture all the arts
of design. In fact, all through the Gothic period
design seems to have had more the character of
a vital organic growth, controlled by a certain
tradition and the influence of architectural style,
yet within these limits and those of the material
of its expression developing an extraordinary
freedom both of invention and graphic power,
which culminated at the end of the fifteenth cen-
tury, or was perhaps absorbed by the classicism

^ The original slabs are in the Berlin Museum, but casts,
of some may be seen at South Kensington.

of the Renascence. Thirteenth century Gothic
sculpture at its best, as we find it in France,
has almost the simplicity, grace, and natural
feeling- of Greek work. This may be seen in

the figures from the west front of Auxerre
Cathedral, and also in the porch of Amiens; and
in the portrait effigies of this period and onwards
through the three centuries in those of our own
cathedrals and churches we find abundant evid-

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Amiens
Cathedral.
XlVth
century

Chap. VIII. ence of graphic power in careful and character-
Graphic portraiture, united with beauty of design in

Influence, or detail and decorative effect.
^^De^^gn" What we should call realism comes out won-
derfully in the treatment of the statue of St.
Martha at St. Urbain, Troyes, a work of the
fifteenth century.

Gothic art, too, was a familiar art, intimate
and sympathetic with human life in all its
varieties.

In the beautiful illuminated Psalters, Missals,
Books of Hours, and chronicles of the Middle
Ages, the life of those days is presented in
bright and vivid colours. We see the labourers
at work in the fields, ploughing, sowing, reaping,
threshing, treading the wine-press. We see
the huntsman, the fisherman, and the shepherd;
the scribe at his work, the saint at his prayers,
the knight at arms. The splendour and pomp
of jousts and tournaments, with all their bright
colour and quaint heraldry; we see the king
in his ermine, and the beggar in his rags, the
monk in his cell, the gallant with his lute—
delicate miniatures often set in burnished gold,
and adorned with open fret-work or borders of
flowers and leaves.

These borders in course of time from a purely
fanciful ornamental character become real leaves,
flowers or fruit, as in the Grimani Breviary, attri-
buted to Memling, the famous Flemish painter,
where the borders are in some pages naturalistic
paintings of leaves and berries, birds and butter-
flies, on gold grounds with cast shadows. Here
we get the naturalistic feeling dominating again
and the pictorial skill of the miniaturist triumph-
ing, but the effect is still rich and ornamental.

When the printing press in the middle of the
fifteenth century began to rival the scribe with
his manuscript, it offered in the woodcut a new

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Memling.
"Deliver,
ance of
St. Peter."
Grimani
Breviary

be liked for its own sake : not only was it found
to afford a considerable range of decorative
effect by different treatment of line and solid
black, but the graphic designer found in the rich

Chap. VIII. vigorous woodcut line a suggestive and em-
Graphic phatic means of expression. The best artists
Influence, or of the time gave themselves to the work, and
i^^Desfgn"^ notably in Germany, the home of the invention
of printing itself. Cologne, Mainz, Augsburg,
Ulm, Nuremberg were all famous centres of
activity in the printer's art, as well as Venice
and Florence, Basle and Paris.

Up to the end of the fifteenth century the
Gothic and ornamental feeling is still dominant
in the treatment of the design of woodcuts in
books, and most instructive and suggestive they
are in simplicity of method and line, and direct-
ness of expression.

Characteristic German work of Gothic feeling
and considerable graphic force is seen in the
woodcuts of the Nuremberg Chronicle (1493)
designed by Michael Wolgemuth, the master of
Albert Durer. In these vigorous cuts we may
plainly see the tradition of that Gothic feeling
and style of graphic design afterwards developed
in the work of the great German designer.

The splendid woodcuts of Diirer's "Apoca-
lypse," and of the " Little Passion," and the
design called " The Cannon" (1518), give us fur-
ther insight into his method of drawing and his
graphic power; and one can hardly go to stronger
or better examples for the study of expression
by means of bold line work, a command of which
is most valuable to designers in all materials,
though, of course, especially so to those who
desire to make black and white drawing their
principal pursuit. For Diirer's finer line treat-
ment on copper there is no better example than
the portrait of Erasmus.

cuts was no doubt to a great extent determined
by the nature of the method of cutting the block.

The drawing on the smooth plank—not on the
cross section of the tree, as in modern wood-
engraving—was actually cut with a knife, not a

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Albert
Diirer.
" Apoca-
lypse "

and print the impression of its surface sharply
upon the paper in the press. These conditions
would necessarily lead to a certain economy of
line both as to quantity and direction, and would
favour the use of bold outline and lines expres-

Chap. VIII. sive of relief surfaces or shadow arranged in a
Graphic comparatively simple way, and often running

into solid black, as in small folds of drapery and
details. The drawing was probably done with
a reed or quill pen, which latter still remains

perhaps the best tool for emphatic, graphic chap. viii.
drawing on the scale of book designs, since it Qra^^^ic
offers the maximum possibility of effect with influence, or
the minimum of simplicity and economy of i^^D^Tign"^
means. Its only rival (though it may also be
regarded as a useful auxiliary to the pen) is the
narrow flexible brush point, and this has the
advantage of spreading more easily into solid
blacks, though more likely to lead one into
looseness of style owing to its very facility.

Fine and firm graphic draughtsmanship and
rich design, with a fine sense of the decorative
value of armorial bearings and processional
grouping, may be seen in the famous series of
woodcuts called " The Triumphs of Maximilian,"
in which Albert Diirer and Hans Burgmair
co-operated. That is to say each did a large
proportion of the designs. It was a very vast
work for wood-engraving. The scheme was in
two parts, one consisting of a design of a
triumphal arch, in general idea in emulation of
the old Roman imperial triumphal arches. This
part of the work consisted of ninety-two blocks
which, when put together, form one woodcut
io|- feet high by 9 feet wide. This part was all
designed and drawn upon the blocks by Albert
Diirer, and engraved by Hieronymus Andrese.

The second part consisted of the triumphal
procession and the triumphal car of Maximilian
and his Queens, designed by Diirer, as well as
other allegorical and heraldic cars and warlike
machines, and cars with officers of the court,
groups of knights in armour, men-at-arms of all
kinds, country people, and even groups of
African savages. Sixty-six of the designs of
the procession are due to Hans Burgmair.

Chap. VIII. It is noteworthy that the general scheme for
Graphic ^^^^ triumph was first painted on large sheets of
Influence, or parchment, which still exist in the Imperial
S^DeTign"^ Library at Vienna ; and the woodcuts followed
this more or less in design, Durer's drawings
being a freer rendering, while Burgmair's are

supposed to keep more closely to the painted
scheme of the miniaturists, though it is quite
possible they may both have furnished sketches,
for the miniaturists' version also. This great
undertaking, however, was never finished, and
its progress came to an end with the death
of the emperor in January, 1519. The work

For more purely ornamental effect in black influence, or
and white the rich, bold, yet sensitive outline JJ^ceTign'"
of the Venetian and Florentine woodcuts should
be studied, and their use of solid black.

The amount of graphic expression and even
of statement of natural fact which can be put
into pure outline alone is, of course, enormous.

The value of the graphic illustrative capacity
of the woodcut was soon discovered and utilized
by the writers of natural histories and compilers
of Herbals of the early days of printing
onwards.

There is a beautiful Herbal written by Dr.
Fuschius (whose name we seem to have per-
petuated in the Fuschia). It was printed at
Basle in 1542, and the drawings are fine ex-
amples of what outline can do, and remarkable
for a combination of beautiful style united with
natural truth and decorative feeling. One of
the horned poppy is here given. The book is
also interesting in the portraits of the draughts-
men and wood-engraver, or formschneider, given
at the end.

The woodcuts of the plants given in the
Herbal of Matthiolus, where more lines of
surface and shadow are introduced, are vigor-
ous and good, full of style and character, and
expressive of the salient facts of growth. The
same may be said of those in our own Gerard's
Herbal, though the impressions are not gener-
ally so bright or good; but then it was pro-
duced during the decline of the printer's art, in
the later years of the sixteenth century.

Chap. VIII. much as the cuts put into modern dictionaries
Gmphic make certain facts clear to the mind, these

Influence, or woodcuts have always, over and above fidelity
to the main facts of growth and character, a
sense of design. They are not merely drawings
of plants, but they are well put together as panels
or spaces of design, and effectively though un-
obtrusively ornament the page.

For expressive and sensitive line and touch
in the rendering of flowers, the Japanese artists
are remarkable, and their books, printed from
wood-blocks cut on the plank in the old Euro-
pean way, are full of spirit and suggestiveness.
Drawn on the wood with a pointed brush, which
is occasionally spread to yield solid black, or
turned sideways, or dragged, to vary the quality
of the line, they show that extreme ease and
facility in the expression of form by simple
means which only long practice, direct work, and
intimate knowledge and close observation of
nature could produce. The added flat and
delicate tints of colour enhance the effect and
give them a decorative beauty entirely their
own, though planned in the spaces they occupy
in a totally different spirit from the old Herbal
woodcuts we have been considering. They
belong in the main rather to the second point
of view or artistic impulse in art, which I
characterized at the beginning as the desire
to represent without prepossession the appear-
ances of things; which delights in accidents, in
unexpectedness, and sometimes, it must be con-
fessed, in downright ugliness and awkwardness,
it seems to me—M^hat in short is sometimes
called " impressionism," which has been largely
influenced by Japanese art.

Horned
Poppy,
fr From
Fuchsius'
"De His-
toria

Stirpium,'

1542

Mediaeval brasses are often very fine in the
quality and use of outline, and show a wonderful

amount of exact characterization in portraiture,
as well as beauty of ornamental effect in the use
of plain surfaces relieved upon rich pattern work,

Chap. VIII.
Of the
Graphic
Influence, or
Naturalism
in Design

Japanese

Plant

Drawing,

Woodcut

Printed in

Colour

Japanese

Plant

Drawing.

Woodcut

from a

Botanical

Work

Chap. VIII. and good disposition of draperies. Those of
Graphic ^^^ fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, more
Influence, or especially the Belgian examples, are very useful
Study for these things, as well as for the fine
taste, the simplicity, and the broad artistic
feeling shown under the strict limitation of the
material, while they are remarkable for extra-
ordinary delineation of character by very simple
means—the lines and sunk parts being incised in
the smooth brass plate and filled in with black
encaustic substance, while the colours of the
heraldry are frequently enamelled. Note the
beautiful lines of the drapery in the example
given from Bruges, and the fine relief of the
figures upon the rich diapered ground. In
England the figures and borders were cut out
in the brass and inserted in the stone slab,
which formed the background ; but the Flemish
brasses show a different treatment, the figures
being relieved upon a rich diapered ground,
also incised upon the brass, which takes the
form of a complete panel or plate covering the
stone slab.

One may trace in the later brasses the efforts
of the designer to gain more relief and graphic
emphasis in his figures by introducing lines of
shading and cross lines and greater complexity
generally, as well as a tendency to escape the
limits of the panel, no doubt under the influence
of the rising power of pictorial art, which from
the Renascence onwards seems to have domi-
nated by its influence all the other arts. But in
the case of brasses the beauty of design, the
charm and simplicity of the earlier treatment, as
well as the rich decorative effect, disappear with
the attempt to render complexities of effect and

The same change of feeling left its mark upon
the sculptor's work in sepulchral monuments and
effigies, which, in the Gothic period up to the end
of the fifteenth century, are frequently refined
and beautiful pieces of delicate portraiture,
wrought with extreme care and elaboration, with
a strong yet restrained sense of the ornamental
value of the detail; but which, under the pic-
torial influence and the search for more obvious
and superficial naturalism, became more or less
forced in effect and vulgarized in sentiment as
well as execution, and finally lost in classical
artificiality and theatric pomp.

In simple draughtsmanship and purely graphic
design, too, it is noticeable that, with the intro-
duction of the copper-plate and the attempt to
get in book illustrations something like pictorial
values and chiaroscuro, how, by degrees, vigour
of design and feeling for good line work was lost.

The revival of the woodcut even under
Bewick did little to help line design—its former
close companion. Bewick and his school de-
veloped the woodcut from the pictorial point
of view, and with the object of demonstrating
the capacity of the wood for rendering certain
fine textures and tones as against steel and
copper. Their great principle was the use of
white line, not unheard of even in the early
printing days, as a frontispiece to a German
book (" Pomerium de Tempore," Augsburg,
1502) of the early sixteenth century testifies.

Bewick's birds, which are remarkable for the
delicate, truthful way in which the plumage is
rendered, are as much the work of a naturalist

chap.vm. as of an artist, and they show but little design
Graphic feeling apart from this.

Influence, or Although William Blake and Edmund Cal-
inVeTign"^ vert made notable use of the woodcut, it was
not really until about the middle of the century
that any serious attempt was made in the
direction of the revival of line and pen drawing
for the sake of its expressive vigour, ornamental
possibilities, and autographic value. Probably
it really began with German artists like Schnorr
(who did a series of Bible pictures more or less
after the manner of Holbein), Alfred Rethel, and
Moritz Schwind. Rethel's two large woodcuts,
'' Death the Friend " and " Death the Enemy,"
are tolerably well known and show strong
draughtsmanship and tragic force, recalling in
their intensity and vigour the work of Durer
and the old German masters.

In England the revival of line design arose
out of the Pre-Raphaelite movement (a move-
ment certainly influenced by the study of early
Italian as well as German and Flemish art),
and was illustrated by the work of some of the
leaders of that movement themselves.

The drawings (engraved on wood by the
brothers Dalziel) by D. G. Rossetti, Holman
Hunt, and Millais, which illustrate the edition
of Tennyson's poems published in 1857, show
perhaps the first definite experiments in this
direction.

The pages of the journal " Once a Week,"
started in 1859, were the means of the introduc-
tion of new and powerful designers in line, such
as Frederick Sandys, Charles Keene, E. J.
Poynter, and Frederick Walker.

Chap. VIII. of a Study of the manner of German Renascence
Graphic woodcuts, but it was allied to the matter of
Influence, or modem thought and naturalism. With a freer
ta^jTsfgn"" graphic naturalism of a different order, Walker
united a certain grace and sentiment derived
from classic sculpture, curiously mixed with a
Dutch-like domestic feehng. In his black and
white drawing he shows, too, I think, to some
degree the influences of the photograph, which
since those days has had so obvious an effect
upon art and artists.

" Once a Week," which introduced these with
other artists to the public, was started by the
proprietors of " Punch," which had long main-
tained and still maintains an effective and
legitimate field for graphic drawing in line
rendered by the facsimile wood-block. The
work of John Leech and Richard Doyle is
well known, the former, with a light and some-
what loose touch registering the fashions and
foibles of English life from week to week, with
extraordinary spirit, humour, and character, often
conveyed by very slight means.

John Tenniel, with his more serious and heavier
style, still continues to give his familiar allegories
of the political situation ; this style again has, I
think, been influenced by German work.

Then Charles Keene brought in a kind of
impressionistic naturalism, expressed by a method
of his own, having a look of great freshness and
directness, like crisp sketches from nature.

Du Maurier developed a different style, less
vigorous but more graceful in drawing, and
with certain leanings at one time to the romantic
Pre-Raphaelitism he used his pencil occasionally
to caricature.

graphic, with considerable feeling for style, but
showing, I think, the influence of the photograph
in the rendering of light and shade.

In quality of line there is a certain kinship
with the work of Mr. Phil May, the latest ad-

Chap. VIII. dition to the staff, though his treatment is very
oL'^hic different. He represents, indeed, rather the
Influence, or modem impressionist feeling in line drawing
in^Desfgn™ influenced by the Japanese; his outlines are
often extraordinarily graphic, and convey a great
amount of character with very slight variation,
and very little detail; but there is rather a
noticeable tendency towards awkward composi-
tion and ugly or repulsive types.

As a work giving some of the more serious
and carefully studied designs in line and black
and white of modern artists, engraved on wood,
might be mentioned the Bible projected by
the brothers Dalziel, a portion only of which
was completed, consisting of a series of fine
drawings by Holman Hunt, Madox Brown,
E. J. Poynter, Frederic Leighton, and others.
They are more perhaps in the nature of isolated
pictures than book illustrations, but they are
full of good and careful work.

The earlier etchings of Mr. Whistler are full
of delicate drawing of the picturesque detail of
old waterside houses, as in the famous " Wap-
ping," which even survived translation into a
process block in the " Daily Chronicle."

We have now a vast public apparently in-
terested in, and accustomed to, graphic repre-
sentation in black and white, through the
continual multiplication of cheap illustrated
newspapers, magazines, and books, and the con-
tinual invention and adaptation to the press of
cheap photographic and automatic means of
reproduction, which have almost entirely dis-
placed the woodcut as a popular medium for
the interpretation of graphic art.

photograph continues to gain ascendency not
only as a medium for reproduction, but as a
substitute for original artistic invention and
design. Now while in the former province it is
of enormous practical value, in the latter, I think,
it bids fair to be extremely seductive and in-
jurious to the growth of healthy artistic taste
and capacity.

Modern painting and draughtsmanship have
for a long time shown the influence of the photo-
graph (which for certain illusory qualities of
lighting and relief cannot be approached), and
so, no doubt, artists themselves have prepared
the way for its popularity, and perhaps even
usurpation of the dominion of popular art.

So far, however, as photographic effect is pre-
ferred, and the mechanical tone-block is preferred
to the pen-drawing and woodcut, it means the loss
of character, of the personal element, of distinctive
artistic style. It means, in short, the substitution
of scientific invention and mechanical method
for artistic imagination, observation, and variety
—surely this would be a most unfortunate ex-
change.

WE commonly speak of ancient art, but of chap. ix.
modern artists. Straws indicate which ^^d'^^ijjuai
way the wind blows, and superficial habits may in- influence in
dicate changes of thought and feeling which lie far
deeper. Interest has now become centred in the
development of individual varieties rather than
typical forms, whereas, as we have seen, it is the
latter character that distinguishes the art of the
ancients. In the great monumental works of the
Asiatic nations of antiquity names of individual
artists are lost, and in the art of Egypt and
Assyria and Persia they are of little consequence,
since certain prevailing types and methods were
adhered to; and most of their work, as in their
mural sc ulptures, while distinct in racial character,
might almost have been executed by the same
hand—Egyptian, Assyrian, or Persian, as the
case may be. Tennyson's lines regarding
nature might be here applied to art:

With the intellectual activity of Greece and
the development of her power as a state, the
archaic and purely typical period in her arts,
while possessing wonderful harmony and unity,
led to individual development of artists, and,

assisted no doubt by the increase of writing
and record, famous names are handed down:
such as Ictinus, the architect of the Parthenon,
and Phidias, its sculptor, whose name charac-
terizes the finest period of Greek art.

The ancient myth of Daedalus seems to show
that art was always a power among the ancient
Greeks, and Daedalus, who seems to occupy an
analogous position in southern mythology to
that of Wayland Smith in the nortifi, may have
represented, or his name and fame covered, whole
generations of artists and cunning craftsmen ;
following the tendency, still noticeable, by which
great reputations absorb smaller ones, and in
the course of time have attributed to them works
not really belonging to them at all. The name
becomes a convenient symbol for a whole period,
school, or group of workmen.

One can understand in primitive times how
important the artist-craftsmen must have been.
The fashioner of weapons, the one learned in
the mysteries of smelting metal, of working
iron, bronze, brass and copper, gold and silver,
and having the power of making things of beauty
out of these, which became the revered or
coveted treasures of temples and kings' houses.

The old stories of the early Greek painters
Apelles and Protogenes show, too, at once the
tendency towards myth-making, and the old love
of talk about art, as well as the old and dearly-
clung to popular theory that the beauty of paint-
ing is measured by its illusive power; so that
the realistic grapes of Apelles, which only de-
ceived the birds, were supposed to be outdone
by the naturalistic curtain of Protogenes, which
took in the critics. This tradition seems still to

linger in the minds of our scene-painters when chap. ix.
they present us with those wonderful (and some- ^^d^i^uai
times fearful) drop curtains of satin, festooned influence in
with tassels and cords of undreamed of sumptu-
ousness and mysterious mechanism.

The names and works of Praxiteles and of
Myron are well known to students of antique
sculpture, and these are but stars of greater
magnitude among a host of others less dis-
tinguished, or less centralized in universal fame.
Yet we only know the Venus of Melos from the
island where she was discovered.

We know that the Greek vase painters fre-
quently signed their designs, and this has con-
siderably helped the historic criticism and classi-
fication of that interesting and beautiful province
of Greek design, such as has been so ably done
in the works of Miss Jane E. Harrison.

In the Byzantine and early mediaeval period
we again see a great development of typical
symbolical and profoundly impressive art in
architecture and decoration, but again names
and individual artists are largely lost. We do
not know, for instance, who were the designers
of the splendid mosaics at Ravenna.

" With the dawn of painting in Italy, however,
in the thirteenth century arose a personal and
individualized type of art in which names be-
came of immense interest. This was no doubt
fostered by the rivalry of the cities, each in-
dependent, under its own government; each
municipality proud and anxious to vie in the
splendour and beauty of art with its neighbouring
municipality. This led to a wholesome emulation
among artists and very fine results, since there
were abundant opportunities in the great public

monuments, council chambers, and churches for
the highest exercise of the architect, the painter,
and craftsman's art.

The ancient system of the master craftsman
working with his pupils in his shop or studio
prevailed. A man might learn the craft of
painting from the beginning, the grinding of
colours, the laying of grounds, the mixing of
tints, drawing out cartoons, enlarging designs
for wall-painting, the painting of ornamental
framework, and decorative detail, and gesso
work enrichment, and gilding, miniature paint-
ing and the decoration of books, altar-pieces,
signs and shrines ; perhaps embroidery and
textile patterns, banners, the furniture of shows
and pageants—all these might be carried on,
perhaps under one master. The term painter
was not then specialized to mean either house-
painter or easel-picture painter. An apprentice
might thoroughly and practically learn his trade
in the ordinary sense of the word, but it would
depend upon his personal capacity and quality
whether he would become a master, whether his
name would be inscribed on the scroll of fame
to be a landmark for future historians of art.

The romantic tales and episodes in the lives of
painters which have come down to us are always
interesting, and in Italy, being the centre of artistic
life from the fourteenth to the end of the sixteenth
centuries, Ave find abundant lore of this sort.

That picturesque legend of Cimabue of Flor-
ence, first told by Lorenzo Ghiberti (who was
born in 1378), for instance, finding the youthful
Giotto as a shepherd boy, while riding in the
valley of Vespignano, about fourteen miles from
Florence, sketching the image of one of his flock

the first to show a new departure in the direction
of greater freedom and naturalness of treatment,
the first whose work shows much individuality,

Simone
Memmi.
Fresco con-
taining
Portraits of
Cimabue,
Giotto, and
Contem-
poraries.
Florence.
Cloisters
of S. M.
Novella

Chap. IX. and emerges from the somewhat set and pre-
KfdWiduai scribed traditions of the Byzantine school which
Influence in characterizes the earhest ItaHan painting of the
Design Christian period really influenced by the Greek
church mosaic design, which may be considered
almost as the swathing clothes of medieeval
painting in Italy.

His altar-piece for the church of Sta. Maria
Novella was carried in procession through
Florence to the church—a subject which has
furnished a theme for Lord Leighton's well-
known and fine decorative early work, too
seldom seen.

His (Cimabue's) portrait, in the white em-
broidered costume with a hood, appears in a
group with Giotto and other famous contempo-
raries, including- Petrarch and Laura, in a fresco
by Simone Memmi, a contemporary painter, on
the wall of the chapel of the Cappella degli
Spagnoli at Sta. Maria Novella.

But Giotto marks the real point of departure.
Coming straight from outdoor life, from the
simple country pursuits of a shepherd boy, it was
significant that he should be the first to introduce
a new spirit into art. Natural simplicity and
directness, power of dramatic narrative painting,
dignity and simplicity of style, and decorative
beauty—these were some of the qualities with
which Giotto enriched the field of early Italian art.

He became the friend of Dante, who pays
him a tribute in the well-known lines in his
poem " II Purgatorio,"

'J'o lord it over painting's field; and now
The cry is Giotto, and his name's eclips'd."

And Giotto has left us an interesting portrait of Chap. ix.
the poet, on the wall of the Podesta, or council fn^^^iduai

Giotto.

Fresco.

Arena

Chapel,

Padua

There is a well-known story, which throws
light upon his skill and certainty of hand, that
once, when an emissary from Pope Boniface
VIII. came to him for a specimen of his handi-
work to show to his master, Giotto took a piece

getting a prettier picture, but it proved convinc-
ing, and the legend passed into a proverb which
runs : Rounder than the O of Giotto—" Piu
tondo che 1' O di Giotto."

Chap. IX. The frescoes of the Arena Chapel at Padua,
fndMduai representing the history of Christ and the Virgin

in fifty square compartments, remain among
Giotto's most famous works. The frescoes of
the vaulted roof of the lower church at Assisi
are also very fine.

" Here," says Mrs. Jameson, in "Early Italian chap. ix.
Painters," "over the tomb of S. Francis, the ^ndh^-^uai

painter represented the three vows of the order
— Poverty, Chastity, and Obedience: and in
the fourth compartment, the saint enthroned
and orlorified amidst the host of Heaven.

Chap. IX. " The invention of the allegories under which
fnd^iduai Giotto has represented the vows of the saint—
Influence in his marriage with Poverty—Chastity seated in
Design rocky fortress—and Obedience with the

He was architect and sculptor as well as
painter, and the design of the beautiful Cam-
panile of the Duomo at Florence is due to him.

Cimabue and Giotto's contemporary, the
sculptor Niccolo Pisano was another dis-
tinguished artist of the early Italian revival.
He is said to have been inspired by the study
of antique sculpture. A certain sarcophagus
(Phaedra and Hippolytus) by its life and move-
ment is supposed to have suggested the charac-
ter which he sought in his work. The dramatic
vitality which he infused into his figures was
certainly extraordinary, as his famous pulpit at
Pisa demonstrates. There was some danger of
losing monumental dignity and repose, but it
meant a return to nature and life after a long
period of restraint and convention which had
become dead.

The revival, therefore, was both salutary and
necessary, though it is not unnatural that painters
should have profited most by its effects, and
that painting should have become the leading
and popular art, because most immediate and
familiar in its appeal and the width of its sym-
pathy and range.

For vivid dramatic intensity of conception
and earnestness of purpose the work of Orcagna
stands out among the early painters of Florence.
Andrea Orcagna was the son of a goldsmith of
Florence. The goldsmiths of the fourteenth

Andrea

Orcagna,

1310

Verocchio, Andrea del Sarto, It was in his
father's workshop that Andrea Orcagna first
learned his art. He was born before 1310, and

famous work was the fresco still to be seen on
the wall of the Campo Santo at Pisa — "The
Triumph of Death." It presents us with certain

contrasts of life and death, of pleasure and pain,
of pomp and pride and poverty, the severe life
of the holy man, the gay life of the pleasure
seeker. There is a striking group of huntsmen

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Orcagna.

"Triumph

of Death."

Fresco.

Campo

Santo,

Pisa

reining in their horses at the sight of certain chap. ix.
grim coffins containing great and pompous fn^^yiduai
personages in various stages of decay. Gro- influence in

tesque fiends, too, are seen hustling wicked ones
into a fiery pit. Thus does the early painter
enforce the old moral. Thus does he paint the
sharp contrasts of life and death, the short life

and the merry one ; the careless worldHng and
the rich and powerful finally levelled by death ;
while the higher spiritual life and the virtues of
self-denial and sacrifice are suggested by the
pious and primitive life of the monks.

Such subjects were favourites all through the
Middle Ages, and it may be remembered that
Petrarch about this time wrote his " Triumphs,"
one of which is named " The Triumph of Death."

A gentler spirit is seen in the art of Benozzo
Gozzoli (born circa 1424), a pupil of Fra
Angelico, full of a love for nature, of trees and
flowers and animals, and of decorative beauty, a
delight in beautiful walled cities, in ornate dresses,
in fair fresh faces of youths and maidens. It is
the joy of life without the shadow of death, as
of the visions of a serene spirit that joins the
hands of the old pagan life and the new Chris-
tian ideals and reconciles them in a world of
beauty.

In the frescoes of the Riccardi Chapel at
Florence, Benozzo pictures, with loving faithful-
ness, the Medici princes riding out to the hunt
in splendid equipment, in a high upland and
wooded country such as one may find around
Florence. The subject was " The Adoration of
the Magi," represented upon the side walls.
"The Nativity" being painted over the altar.
The procession of the kings with gifts is seen
winding over the hills of the rich and varied
landscape, interspersed with groups like the
princes, in which Lorenzo the Magnificent ap-
pears, and portraits of the painter, his friends,
and contemporaries.

The fresh youthful faces are full of the zest and
pleasure of life. The horses curvet and prance

He gives us those charming groups of kneel-
ing angels also in the same chapel. Or he tells
the story of the building of the tower of Babel,
or of Noah, at Pisa, or of St. Augustine, at San

Gimignano, with the same serenity and delight in
subsidiary incident and ornament.

Another very distinct individuaHty in painting,
reflecting the spirit of his time halfway between
mediseval feeling and the revived paganism and
humanism of the classical Renascence, was

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Benozzo

Gozzoli.

Riccardi

Chapel,

Florence

From a
Photograph
by G, Brogi

Sandro
Botticelli
(Alessandro
Filipepi),
Circa 1471

Botticelli. He was a pupil of the painter-monk
Fra Filipo Lippi, and worked at Florence about
the middle of the fifteenth century. He was

one of the painters summoned to Rome in 1471
by Pope Sixtus IV. to paint the walls of the
Sistine Chapel. He is spoken of as "our friend
Botticelli" in Leonardo da Vinci's treatise

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Benozzo

Gozzoli.

Riccardi

Chapel,

Florence

painting ; but until comparatively recently, as
compared with more often sounded names in the

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Sandro

Botticelli.

Detail from

"The

Adoration

of the

Magi."

Florence,

Uffizi

Gallery

Botticelli.
" La Prima
Vera."

An Allegory],
of Spring.
Florence
Academy

and twenty years ago, hung in an obscure posi-
tion ; but of late, and probably largely due to
English taste and criticism, it is now brought
prominently forward and is constantly copied.
The lady who is supposed to witness the
masque stands in the centre in a grove of
orange trees, the ground covered with flowers,
among which is seen the flem^-de-luceoi Florence;
Zephyrus is clasping the earth, and from her
mouth fall flowers ; next to her Flora, or Spring,
with a beautiful robe embroidered with flowers,
bears roses in her lap and scatters them. Then
there is a group of the " Three Graces " dancing,
while Hermes, as the herald of Spring, leacis
the procession. The picture is supposed to have
formed one of a set of four. The second panel
called "Summer," and showing Venus rising in
her shell from the sea, with a draped figure
about to throw a robe over her as she reaches
the grassy shore, is in the Uffizi Gallery. There
is also a remarkable allegory, " Calumny," in the
same gallery, while our own National Gallery
contains a characteristic Madonna and Child
with angels. Botticelli's Madonnas are always
distinguished by a peculiar expression of wistful
pathos and a feeling unlike those of any other
painter. There is also a charming small Nativity
with a ring of angels, besides the very splendid
vision of heaven. Botticelli also made illustra-
tions to Dante.

A severer and more distinctly classically
inspired genius, yet with a certain northern
hardness, we find in Mantegna, who w^as born
near Padua, in 1431. He came, it is said, of
very poor and obscure parents, and, like his
great predecessor Giotto, Mantegna was em-

Andrea

Mantegna,

1431-1506

ployed in keeping sheep. Little is known of his chap. ix.
early life, but he is found later as one of the fn^^iduai
pupils of Francesco Squarcione, a painter of influence in
Padua, but more famous for his teaching, his

school being at that time the most renowned in
all Italy, his pupils numbering one hundred and
thirty-seven. He was a great student of the
antique, and travelled over Italy and Greece in
search of remains of ancient art, obtaining casts

Chap. IX. or copies of such sculptures he could not purchase
Pnd^viduai reniove, so that Mantegna had no doubt
Influence in exceptional facilities for the study of classical
Design sculpture, whicli had so marked an influence
upon his design.

He seems, too, to have been an indefatigable
worker, and drew with great diligence from the
statues, busts, bas-reliefs, and architectural orna-
ments he found in the school of Squarcione.
" At the age of seventeen Andrea painted his
first great picture for the church of Santa Sofia
in Padua (novv lost), and at the age of nineteen
assisted in painting the chapel of St. Christopher
in the Eremitani—representing on the vault the
four evangelists." He is said to have given to
these sacred personages the air and attitude of
Greek or Roman philosophers, the type in fact
confirmed by Raphael and afterwards generally
adopted by Renascence artists,

A curious change or blending of other elements
and a different feeling in Mantegna's work,
softening the somewhat cold and rigid classicism,
seems to have been brought about by his asso-
ciation with the Venetian painter Jacopo Bellini,
the father of the two greater Bellinis (Giovanni
and Gentile), whose daughter Nicolosia he
married about this time (1450). This marriage
with the daughter of Squarcione's rival, as
Bellini was considered, and Mantegna's friend-
ship with him, seems to have offended Squar-
cione and caused an estrangement, and even the
active enmity of his first master, and eventually
led to his quitting Padua. He painted some
frescoes at Verona, and was invited to Mantua
by Ludovico Gonzaga, and finally he entered
the service of that prince. He was invited to

Rome by Pope Innocent VIII. to paint a chapel chap. ix.
in the Belvedere of the Vatican, which was f/d^fduai
actually destroyed in the last century by Pius influence in
VI, to make room for his new museum. This
was after the ruthless way of the popes, prodigal
of painted walls, as when the beautiful early
Renascence frescoes of Melozzo da Forli were
removed to make room for Raphael's and Giulio
Romano's frescoes in the Stanzi.

There is a story of the discretion of Mantegna,
which, with a natural courtesy, seems to have
distinguished him personally. While working
for Pope Innocent VI11. it happened that the
payments for the work were not made with
desirable regularity; the pope, visiting the artist
at his work one day, asked him the meaning
of a certain female figure which he had intro-
duced. Andrea replied that he was trying to
represent Disa^etion. The pope, understanding
him at once, replied : " If you would place Dis-
cretion in fitting company, you should place
Patience at her side." Andrea took the hint and
said no more. It is satisfactory to know that in
the end the pope not only paid up, but was
"munificent" besides.

Finally, Mantegna returned to Mantua, where
he built himself a magnificent house painted in-
side and out by his own hand, and in which he
lived in great esteem and honour until his death
in 1506. He was buried in the church of his
patron St. Andrew, where his monument in
bronze and several of his pictures are still to be
seen.

The famous frieze of " The Triumph of Julius
Caesar"—which is now in Hampton Court Palace,
having been bought by King Charles I. from

Chap. IX. the Duke of Mantua—was first designed by
^divMuai Mantegna for the hall of the palace of San
Influence in Sebastiano at Mantua, and commenced in 1488,
Design before he went to Rome, he finishing it after his
return in 1492. There are nine panels or com-
partments in this frieze: " They are painted in
distemper on twilled linen, which has been
stretched on frames, and originally placed against
the wall with arabesque pilasters dividing the
compartments."

Mr. Alfred Marks issued a set of photographs
some years ago, but they are not very clear.
There is a good set of Italian woodcuts in
chiaroscuro of the designs, by Andrea Andreani,
done while the frieze was in the palace at Mantua,
which have been engraved in various ways at
different times with very various results.

The whole design is extremely rich and
sumptuous, and full of the extraordinary design-
ing power and command of inventive detail so
characteristic of Mantegna.

" In the first compartment we have the open-
ing of the procession: trumpets, incense burn-
ing, standards borne aloft by the victorious
soldiers.

"In the second, the statues of the gods carried
off from the temples of the enemy ; battering
rams, implements of war, heaps of glittering
armour carried on men's shoulders, or borne
aloft in chariots.

"In the third compartment, more splendid
trophies of a similar kind ; huge vases filled
with gold coin, tripods, etc.

"In the fourth, more such trophies, with the
oxen crowned with garlands for the sacrifice.

rich garlands of fruits and flowers, bearing on chap. ix.
their backs magnificent candelabra, and attended fjfd^iduai
by beautiful youths.

"In the sixth are figures bearing vases, and
others displaying the arms of the vanquished.

" The seventh shows us the unhappy captives,
who, according to the barbarous Roman custom,

Andrea
Mantegna.
Part of
"The
Triumph
of Julius
Caesar."
From the
woodcut by
Andrea
Andreani

were exhibited on these occasions to the scoffing
and exulting populace. There is here a group
of female captives of all ages, among them a
dejected bride-like figure, a woman carrying her
infant children, and a mother her little boy, who
lifts up his foot as if he had hurt it.

Chap. IX. " In the ninth, and last, a^jpears the Conqueror,
inVivtduai JuHus Caesar, in a sumptuous chariot richly
Influence in adomed with sculptures ; he is surrounded by a
Design crowd of figures, and among them is seen a
youth bearing aloft a standard on which is in-
scribed the boastful words : ' Veni, vidi, vici'—■
' I came, I saw, I conquered.' " ^

The care and science of the draughtsmanship
is as noticeable as the richness of the design.
The perspective being carefully given as of
figures actually seen above the eye-line, and
with all the sumptuousness and the mixed ele-
ments of the design there is a certain restraint
and monumental severity which preserves its
dignity.

Rubens, when at Mantua in 1606, was struck
by the splendour of the work, and gave a
Rubensesque rendering of one of the compart-
ments, which is in the National Gallery; but it
loses the peculiar dignity, serenity, and decorative
character of Mantegna's work in the somewhat
florid and bumptious style of the late Flemish
master; but there is no doubt that Rubens enter-
tained a real admiration for the work, and was
instrumental in getting Charles I. to purchase it.

Among Mantegna's chief works may be
named " La Madonna della Vittoria," now in
the Louvre, painted as an altar-piece for the
church built by the Marquis of Mantua, to com-
memorate his victory on the retreat of Charles
VIIL from Italy; the Crucifixion, also in the
Louvre, containing the artist's own portrait in
the half-length figure of the soldier seen in
front; the fine allegory of the Vices flying
before Wisdom, Chastity, and Philosophy ; and
^ "Early Italian Painters."—Mrs. Jamesox.

the beautiful Parnassus, which were painted for chap. ix.
Isabella d'Este, and filled panels in a room in J^fdWiduai
her palace at Mantua, as has recently been dis- influence in
covered. Mr. Armstrong has had a fine large
scale model of one side of this room set up in
the South Kensington Museum, to show the
effect of the decorations complete of Mantegna's
allegories (repi-esented by copies). One must
not forget either the wonderful Circumcision,
at Florence, or, in our own National Gallery,
the Virgin and Child enthroned.

Besides his paintings there exists a multitude
of drawings, designs, and plates of his own en-
graving (an art which he took up when he was
sixty years old). These include the fifth, sixth,
and seventh compartments of his own "Triumphs
of Julius Caesar."

Perhaps the greatest individual mind of the Leonardo
Italian Renascence was Leonardo da Vinci, who
Avas so distinguished in so many different depart-
ments of thought and art ; and while he summed
up and passed beyond the philosophical and
scientific knowledge of his age, and experimented
in nearly all directions, and was at once archi-
tect, chemist, engineer, musician, poet, his fame
still rests upon his achievements in painting,
which are distinguished by a peculiar refinement,
extreme finish, and intellectual and poetic quality.
He was born at Vinci, from which he takes his
name, near Florence—that Athens of the Middle
Ages—in the lower Val d'Arno, on the borders
of the territory of Pistoia, His father was an
advocate, not rich, but able to give his son the
advantage of the best instructors in the science
and art of that period. He studied under Andrea
Verrochio (famous for his superb bronze eques-

trian statue of the Coleoni at Venice), himself
uniting the arts of sculptor, chaser in metal, and
painter. There is a story that Leonardo as a
youth was set to paint an angel in a picture of
Verrochio, and so outdid his master that the
latter never touched painting again.

A weird fantastic vein which appears in
Leonardo's work, especially in his love for in-
venting grotesques, comes out in the tale of the
fig tree. A peasant on his father's estate cut
down an old fig- tree and broug-ht a section of

the trunk to have something painted upon it for
his cottage. Leonardo determined to do some-
thing terrible and striking—a beautiful horror
which should rival the mythical Medusa's head
(which he afterwards painted), and, aided by his
natural history studies and the reptiles he col-
lected, he produced a sort of monster or chimera
which frightened his father into fits and was
therefore considered too good for the peasant's
cottage, and afterwards sold for much. The
peasant was persuaded to give up his fig tree
and put off wath a wooden shield painted with
a device of a hart transfixed with an arrow.

In a letter to the Duke of Milan, who had
invited him to his Court, he thus recites his
qualifications as an artist: " I understand the
different modes of sculpture in marble, bronze,
and terra-cotta. In painting, also, I may esteem
myself equal to anyone, let him be who he may."

Of his paintings the widest-known, through
engravings, is "The Last Supper," which was
painted on the wall of the refectory of the
Dominican Convent of the Madonna delle
Grazie at Milan, occupying two years, from
1496 to 1498—but the fresco has suffered by time

and restoration, and but little of it is now left.
There is a fine study of the head of Christ.
The picture of the Virgin of the Rocks and

the portrait, Madonna Lisa del Gioconde, in
the Louvre, show the quality of his painting—
the characteristic subtlety of expression, mys-
teriousness, and very elaborate finish.

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Leonardo
da Vinci.
Fresco of
"The Last
Supper"

Chap. IX. with another gigantic artistic personahty of that
indWiduai t^e of wonders—Michael Angelo, who was
Influence in then, in the early years of the sixteenth century,
Design about twenty-two years younger. The strong
but jealous individuality of both, in spite of ad-
miration for each other's genius, unfortunately
stood in the way of friendship and co-operation.
They remained rivals and competitors. They
contended for the painting of the great Council
Hall in the Palazzo Vecchio at Florence, and
both prepared cartoons. Leonardo chose for his
subject the defeat of the Milanese by the Floren-
tine army in 1440 ; Michael Angelo a party of
Florentine soldiers surprised while bathing in
the Arno. Leonardo's design was chosen, but
he spent so much time in experimenting and in
preparing the wall to receive oil-painting, which
he preferred to fresco, that, changes of govern-
ment happening, the scheme was finally aban-
doned, and both cartoons, though shown for
several years, were finally lost, only a copy of
Michael Angelo's remaining, and an engraving
from it.

The experimental nature of Leonardo seems
to have prevented his completing many works,
while he was full of projects of all kinds, too
many of which were never realized. The fine
cartoon of the Virgin and St. Anna was never
painted. This cartoon, or a good copy, is now
in the possession of the Royal Academy.

In 1514 Leonardo was, like so many great
Italian artists, invited to Rome by the pope
(then Leo X.), but more in his character of
philosopher, mechanic, and alchemist than as a
painter. There he met Raphael, then at the
height of his fame, engaged in painting the

Stanzl of the Vatican. But Leonardo was ill-
pleased on the whole with his Roman visit.
The pope was said to have become dissatisfied

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Leonardo
da Vinci.
Study for
the Head
of Christ

with his speculative and dilatory habits. Hi.s
old rival, Michael Angelo, was there, and finally
he left and set out for Pavia, where Francis I.
of France then held his Court. B}' him Leonardo

was received with honour and favour, and went
with him to France as principal Court painter,
only, however,as it proved, to die thereon May
2nd, 1516.

In the work of Leonardo's great rival, Michael
Angelo, the art of the Italian Renascence may
be said to have reached its culminating point,
and after him decline sets in. It is as if the
wonderful structure of inventive artistic genius
had been piled by the life labours of generations
to an ambitious and dangerous height and at
last had given way under the strain, or perhaps,
like the sun-flower, the same force which raises
the splendid rayed head and enables it to out-
face the sun, at last forces it earthwards again.

Michael Angelo Buonarotti was born at Set-
tignano, near Florence, in the year 1474. His
ambition, personal pride, and masterfulness of
temper possibly may be traced to his progenitors
—a once noble family. It was, too, against the
prejudice of his father that he finally decided
his career, becoming the apprentice of Ghir-
landajo. It was in the days when Lorenzo the
Magnificent ruled over Florence, and the young
Michael Angelo became a student in the Aca-
demy, founded upon the strength of a collection
of antique marbles, busts, statues, fragments in
the palace and gardens of that prince. This
alone would be sufficient to give a strong
classical bias to his style.

There is a story of Michael Angelo's first
attempt in marble when he was about fifteen—
a copy of an antique mask of an old laughing
faun : he treated this with a spirit and vivacity
of his own, and Lorenzo de Medici was struck
by its cleverness ; but he said, " Thou shouldst

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Michael
Angelo
Buonarotti,
1474-1564

have remembered that old folks do not retain Chap. ix.
all their teeth : some of them are always want- i^Vj^fduai

ing." The young sculptor at once struck one
or two out, giving the mask a more grotesque
expression.

Chap. IX. entire charge of Michael Angelo. With the
P/d^iduai marks of princely favour, however, he was
Influence in destined to carrv another mark, not so agree-
Design able, ever after, owing to, as some say, the
jealousy of Torregiano, a fellow pupil, who in a
quarrel struck him, some accounts say with his
fist, some with a mallet, and so gave him the
broken nose which is characteristic of the por-
traits of Michael Angelo. Torregiano in conse-
quence suffered banishment from Florence. In
his own account of the affray to Benvenuto
Cellini he declares the provocation came from
Michael Angelo. The favour and protection of
Lorenzo did not last long, as in his eighteenth
year Michael Angelo lost his patron by death.

It was Lorenzo's son Piero who set him one
wintry day to make a statue out of the snow—
rather a wasteful proceeding for a Michael
Angelo, though, as the late Mr._Walter Pater
has said, there is a certain reminiscence of the
feeling of the snow statue in the suggestive
and half-finished figures of the tombs of the
Medici.

With the fall of the Medici family and their
exile from Florence, Michael Angelo, as one of
their retainers, had to fly also, and took refuge
in Bologna, where he pursued his work as a
sculptor. At the age of twenty-two he pro-
duced the " Pieta" in marble, now in St. Peter's
at Rome.

In 1502 he was again recalled to Florence.
In 1504 took place the competition with Leon-
ardo of the cartoons for the Palazzo Vecchio,
already spoken of.

In 1506 Michael Angelo was called to Rome
by Pope Julius II. The pope employed him

to design the sumptuous sculptural monument
destined for his own tomb, for which the famous

colossal Moses was executed, and the slaves or
prisoners, but these, like the tomb, never were
finished.

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Michael
Angelo.
Ceiling.
Sistine
Chapel.
"The Crea-
tion of
Man "

Chap. IX. But his great work in Rome, the great work
Individual ^^^ decoration of the ceiling of

Influence in the Sistine Chapel, the walls of which had been
Design painted by earlier artists of the Florentine school:
Signorelli, Cosimo Roselli, Perugino, Ghirlan-
dajo, Botticelli. The ceiling remained unadorned,
and now Michael Angelo was called upon to
design his great sacred epic of painting, having
to deal with a space 150 feet in length by 50 feet
in breadth, upon the concave surface of a round
vault, without any architectural or structural
enrichment or division save the windows. The
theme was the fall and redemption of mankind
according to the Bible history.

At first it appears that Michael Angelo, as it
is said, doubtful of his own skill in fresco, called
in the aid of painters from Florence to aid him
in carrying out his design, but was so dis-
appointed with their work that he effaced it and
dismissed them. He then shut himself up and
proceeded to devote himself to the gigantic work
alone, preparing the colours with his own hands,
showing how thorough an individualist he must
have been, contrary to the practice of his own
time, which was to work with pupils and assist-
ants. He began with the end towards the door,
and in two compartments first painted " The
Deluge" and "The Vineyard of Noah"; the
figures are on a smaller scale, which he after-
wards abandoned for a larger, bolder treatment.
He spent twenty-two months in painting the
ceiling, exclusive of the time spent in preparing
the cartoons. The work was uncovered to the
public view on All Saints' Day, 1512.

The sculpturesque and architectural feeling
which, really stronger in Michael Angelo's work

than that of the pauiter, is very decidedly mani-
fested both in the general plan of the design
and in individual figures and details. In order
to bring so great a scheme into comprehensive
form it was necessary to divide and subdivide
the blank ceiling with painted architectural
mouldings and ribs into spaces and panels. The
titanic youthful figures placed between, upon
the ledges and brackets of the framework of the
subjects, are very fine and characteristic in style,
and essentially sculptors' designs; each would
work out as a separate statue, though for all that
each single figure, as each figure of every group,
bears a certain relation to the rest and fills a
harmonious and necessary place in the scheme.
The colour is subdued and quiet. It has a gray,
cool effect in the chapel, gray blues, pale greens
and whites being much used in the draperies,
and the chief decorative effect being gained by
the opposition of brown flesh tones to the broad,
light marble-like framework; or the landscape
and sky backgrounds of the subject panels. This
great work was completed by Michael Angelo
in his thirty-ninth year.

Another great monumental work in which his
architectural and sculptural genius come out
are the tombs of the Medici in the Church of
San Lorenzo. The seated figures of Lorenzo
and Giuliano de Medici are placed in the re-
cesses of a Renascence arcade, in front of which
are marble sarcophagi, and upon the lids recline
figures of Night and Morning, and of Dawn
and Twilight respectively. They are very bold
and powerful in design, and extremely charac-
teristic in style and treatment, having a certain
titanic energy and tragic unrest, as well as

pensive mystery, about them, which belong to
the strong personality of their designer.

we see him moving amid the political troubles
and vicissitudes of his time, a proud and stormy
spirit, a man of extraordinary energy, which
impresses itself upon all his works. The de-
signer of St. Peter's, the painter of the Sistine,

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Michael

Angelo.

Sistine

Chapel.

"The

Delphic

Sibyl"

austere and abstemious of habit, proud and
imperious, and yet tenderly solicitous for his

aged father, and devoted to his old servant
Urbino, whom he tenderly nursed in his last
illness.

mind in old age, he is said to have made a
drawing of himself as an aged man in a go-cart,
with the motto, Ancora impara (still learning),
a true emblem for a great man who, in spite of

Chap. IX.
Of the
Individual
Influence in
Design

Michael
Angelo.
Tomb of
Lorenzo
de Medici.
Florence

These are a few, a very few, individualities out
of the drama of Italian art, briefly sketched, but
distinct as they are, they are not detached like
isolated statues upon pedestals from the charac-
teristics of their age. They are great because
they embody those characteristics; they are like
rich jewels strung upon a golden chain—the
golden chain of inventive tradition which unites
them—which, while leaving each artist free in
his own sphere, brings his work into relation and
harmony with that of his contemporaries, his
predecessors, and his successors. Some may
prefer to take the jewels separately and admire
them without reference to the chain; but, I think,
to fully understand and appreciate the genius of
individual artists one must never leave out of
account their relation to their time, and its
influences, the relation of their particular art
to the state of the arts generally; for among
these are the factors which have contributed to
make them w^hat we find them in their works ;
just as the colour and relief of a figure or a head-
depends largely upon its background.

IN my last chapter I compared tradition in art chap. x.
to a golden chain, and the striking individu- Collective
alities which arise from time to time as the jewels Influence
upon such a chain. The history of art and the
evolution of design may be regarded either from
the point of view of the jewels or from the point of
view of the ordinary links ; but if we wish to take
a just and comprehensive view I think we must
not only consider the luminous points, but the
system—the links—by which they are connected
and related. Looking out into the clear night
we see a vast mass of brilliant stars of all degrees
of magnitude apparently flung into space with-
out order or relation, but the studies of astro-
nomers have revealed that they are the central
suns of systems around which revolve planets
invisible to us ; but these star-suns themselves
become lost, and merged in the countless
myriads that form the silvery cloud we call the
milky way. So it is in the history of art and
the evolution of design. At first we are attracted
by the brilliant personalities, surrounded by
satellites, that seem to sum up in their work
whole epochs, and remain typical and central
points in the wide spaces of time ; but further re-

search reveals their relation to other personalities
not so distinct, on whom the full light of popular
favour has not flashed, and presently we get
beyond personalities altogether, and in the work
of remote antiquity see only the results of the
labours of generations, purely typical forms of
art, the monumental record of races, of nations,
of dynasties, the work, not of individual men,
but of collective man.

Of such we may find examples in the art of
ancient Egypt, of Assyria, of Persia, and in the
archaic and primitive art of all kinds, from the
fragments of pottery from the plain of Troy to
the carved paddles of the Polynesian islanders.

The art and craft of building—architecture,
the fundamental art, can only be traced back to
its primitive forms in different countries as prac-
tised among different races and peoples. The
origin of its distinctive styles, and its principal
constructive features, were determined long ago
under the influence of climate and local mate-
rials, by the collective thought and co-operative
labour of mankind schooled by necessity and
experience.

Yes, it is a history of constant adaptation to
conditions and united labour and invention from
our primitive ancestor, who improved upon the
natural shelter of the tree by interlacing its
pendent branches with other branches and stakes
fixed in the ground; who burned the ends of their
timbers, so that as piles they could be driven
more easily into the mud to support the plat-
forms of the wattled lake dwellings, when there
were no steel axes. From the early colonists of
our race, the Aryan wagoners, who perhaps
took the idea of the primitive gable and roof

timbers from the tilt of the wagon, or the chap. x.
supports of the tent-coverings; from the ingenuity coUective
of the Mongohan settlers by the riverside, influence
making the framing of their houses and support-
ing their roofs by the bamboo, utilizing the
hollow canes for the jointing and bracketing of
the supports, and terminating the ends orna-
mentally by inserting grotesquely carved heads.
The chain of invention is unbroken up to modern
scientific engineering and calculated principles
of building construction, which but sums up and
systematizes the collective experience of ages.

We see, too, the collective hand of tradition
and the adherence to accustomed forms in the
adoption or imitation of features of timber con-
struction in stone construction and ornament by
the ancients; as, for instance, in the form of
the Persian capital from Persepolis, and in the
dentil ornament of classical architecture men-
tioned in the preceding chapters.

Out of necessity springs construction ; out of
construction springs ornament. We cannot find
the individual in either, both being the result
of slow and gradual evolution, requiring long
periods of time and continuity of custom, life,
and habit, and the continuous associated labour
of communities, wherein the individual is of less
importance than the maintenance of the social
organism. At first the preservation of the gens,
the tribe, the protection and service of the
village community, the handing on of tradition
and folk-lore, until, with conquest and extension
and consolidation into a nation, settled industries,
and religious faith and ritual the desire arises to
clothe the mythical and spiritual ideas of a people
in permanent monumental form and colour.

A cathedral represents the collective art, work,
and thought of centuries. The names of its
builders, its masons, its carvers, its glaziers, are
lost; the heads and hands that carried out the
work, whose invention and feeling, whose very
life have been wrought into the stone and the
wood and the glass, have left no other record.
An abbot's or a bishop's name may be given as
having planned or raised the money for this
choir or that porch at different times, but the
artists and craftsmen who did the work generally
remain unknown. They worked in their craft
in harmony with the workers in kindred crafts,
and as brother members of their guild, and
instead of building up merely personal reputa-
tions really evolved collectively the distinctive
architectural style and decorative types of their
age.

This is one reason why a Gothic cathedral is
so impressive. We see the growth of an organic
style, starting, perhaps, with the round arch
and massive Norman pier, and passing through
the transition to the lancet arch of the early
pointed to the moulded arch and the clustered
shaft and foliated capital, with the ribbed, vaulted
roof covering the long nave with a network of
recurring constructive lines, and meeting over-
head in carved bosses, or spreading into Tudor
fans. Or we may mark the gradual evolution
of the window from the round headed, deep-set
loop-hole of the Byzantine and Norman period
into the long lancet-pointed panel of geometric
glass; and see then how by degrees the light,
first divided into two by a shaft, suggested the
clustering of many lights together, as in great
western or eastern windows, dividing them by

mullions breaking into geometric tracery in the chap. x.
pointed heads; and thus raising a beautiful collective
pierced screen of stone to hold the coloured influence
glass and reveal its splendour against the full
light of the sky.

Can we name the inventors of these changes,
the evolvers of these beauties of our constructive
art ? Do we not feel that by their very nature
they could not have been claimed by any in-
dividual mind alone or have reached perfection
in a single lifetime ? They are the natural result
of a free and vital condition in art, moved by
the unity of faith and feeling, wherein men work
together as brothers in unity, each free in his
own sphere, but never isolated, and never losing
his sense of relation to the rest.

Thus we get the harmonious effect of a great
orchestra, where, though every variety of instru-
ment may be played, all are subordinated, or
co-ordinated, to the musical scheme, and pro-
duce that impression of power and sweetness by
cadences that may be now soft as the whispers
of the summer winds over a field of wheat, and
anon sweep like a tempest with the fury of thun-
dering waves upon the utmost shores of sound.

The emotions produced by such forms of
collective art lift the mind out of the personal
region altogether; they are akin, indeed, to the
feelings awakened in the presence of wild nature.
We seem to hear the voice of Time himself out
of the caverns of the past, the song of life, like
that of a child in the sunlight, and the half-
articulate, pathetic murmur of the voices of birds
and beasts ; the hush of the wood at noon-tide,
the transfiguration of the afterglow, and the
mystery of night.

In the primitive ornament of all peoples we
find the same or similar typical forms constantly

recurring, the germs of pattern design after-
wards developed, complicated, and refined upon :

the chequer, the zigzag, the fret, the circle, the
spiral volute, the twisting scroll—can we ascribe
their invention to any individual mind or hand ?

Chap. X.
Of the
Collective
Influence

Natural
Variation in
Repetition of
Ornamental
Forms.
Primary
school
children
drawing on
the black-
board,

Philadelphia

Can the mechanician tell us who were the chap. x.
inventors of the wheel, the lever, the mode of collective

Natural
Variation in
Repetitionof
Ornamental
Forms.
Primary
school
children
drawing on
the black-
board,

producing fire, the canoe, the paddle, the spade,
the plough, the vessel of clay, the axe, the

hammer, the needle, or even spinning and
weaving ? Yet they are inventions of incalculable
importance to human life, which without them

Chap. X. could not maintain itself, much less build upon
Collective them, as it were, the vast and complex structure
Influence of modem invention, of science, and of art,

A form in ornament once found, however, is
repeated. The eye grows accustomed to it,
takes delight in it, and expects its recurrence.
It becomes established by use and wont, and is
often associated with fundamental ideas of life
and the universe itself. Thus we get traditional
ornament, handed on from generation to genera-
tion, its origin and meaning perhaps lost—like
the pictorial significance of the individual letters
of our alphabet, which everybody uses, but
Avhich require a special kind of study and re-
search to explain their real meaning and original
forms.

Side by side with this liking for the accus-
tomed, this demand for the expected, appears
to have grown up another feeling, a love of
change and variety equally natural and human.

In ornament variation may at first be un-
conscious, and might have arisen from the
natural tendency of the hand to vary a form in
repeating it (as our own experience will tell us),
while it requires an effort to reproduce its exact
counterpart. This tendency to vary the same
form, in repeating it, by different individuals is
illustrated by the little American children culti-
vating their facility of hand by drawing on the
blackboard. This natural variation, having a
rich and pleasant effect, is encouraged until
conscious and studied invention and ingenuity
of individual artists in the varying of designs
take its place.

Tradition in design may no doubt be largely
attributed to the influence of the workshop, or

what we should now call technical necessities, chap. x,
the use of certain tools and materials giving a collective
certain character of their own in the rendering influence
of form, as one may see even in the case of such
a matter as quality of outline (important enough
in all design) if we compare the differences
between a form drawn with the pencil, the pen,
with the brush, or with charcoal. A certain
typical treatment becomes naturally evolved in
the course of practice which seems proper to
each method, while the treatment is sure to be
slightly varied in the hands of every individual.
Of course a strong artistic personality may
greatly modify tradition in any art, though such
an one is seldom entirely free from its influence ;
and the greatest artists in past times have gener-
ally built upon it, and have become what they
are rather because of an existing vital tradition
admitting of individual variation.

This was largely the case, I think, with the
great masters of the Italian Renascence, some of
whom I spoke of in the previous chapter. The
general standard of excellence was maintained
by their contemporaries. A great individual
artist arises and only by degrees distinguishes
himself by his personal choice and treatment,
his variation of practice or method, grafting on
to the stem perhaps some new rare flower. He
raises the standard higher, he imports new ele-
ments, he influences tradition, and the lamp is
handed on.

Giotto's art would not have been what it was
but for the Byzantine influence under which he
was trained. Without losing certain fine quali-
ties of the dignity and serenity of the earlier art,
he infused fresh life and prepared the way for

the greater freedom and naturalism of his suc-
cessors. The various schools of painting are
closely linked, and if the links were complete
we should perhaps be more struck with the
resemblances, the similarities, than the differ-
ences.

The great structure of style is raised stone by
stone: the labour of generations of artists
gradually advances the standard of excellence.
Now and then a greater mind appears, and by
some new thought or method, fresh sentiment or
point of view, raises the standard higher, and
so an epoch is marked in art.

Great cleavag-es from time to time occur which
disturb the orderly progression and connection,
like cataclysms in nature—earthquakes and
upheavals which break the continuity of the
geologic beds and throw them upon different
levels; but the strong social and collective
tendency in man is always to repair and reform,
to re-unite scattered fragments and to form
new traditions both in life and art.

In an age which has seen the development of
an organized industrial system of extraordinary
and minute division of labour under the factory
system, and has now entered an epoch of further
specialization of labour with the invention and
use of complicated machinery driven by steam
and electric power, in association with which
labour becomes not only specialized but almost
automatic, we perhaps hardly need reminding of
the collective influence, since for the effective
supply of the big world-market all products are
the result of collective human labour.

Such an organization of machine production
as every effective factory displays, of collective

labour, though not organized for the collective chap. x.
benefit, but rather wastefully contending with cLiective
other factories for private profit-making in a influence
fierce and unscrupulous warfare of commercial
competition—such organizations can hardly be
favourable to the production of fine and beauti-
ful art. The art, the wonder, the invention, if
anywhere, must really be sought in the means
rather than the ends. The machines which pro-

duce our wares are marvels of ingenuity, of
mechanical adaptation, of economy of force, but
the finished product is often most depressing.
One may see in print works, for instance, those
wonderful colour printing machines capable of
printing seven, and even twelve, colours from
the rollers in succession upon the cloth as it
passes through, often turning out extremely tame
and commonplace patterns on cheap material,
which look much more interesting as engraved

Well, it may be said, the remedy is with us
—with the designers. We have only to use

our invention in producing good and attractive
designs, adapted to the process and material,
and the factory and the machine will do the rest.

It is conceivable, certainly, that where the ob-
ject is so/e/y to produce something at once beauti-

ful and serviceable, by a chain of associated chap. x.
and intelligent labour, with the most ingenious collective
machines at the command of the designers, won- influence
derful things might be done; but it is a question
whether, if a design be ever so good, we should
not grow tired of it if we saw it produced
in enormous quantities. Yet that, after all, is
the object of our factories—of our improved
machinery, to produce in enormous quantities—
not primarily to supply the world's needs either,
but in order to sell at a profit. Art, however,
is only concerned with quality—to make every-
thing as good of its kind as possible, to seek
variety, beauty, appropriateness.

We have yet to see whether industrial pro-
duction, organized on the modern system, is
equal to the old handicraftsman with his simple
methods, as far as artistic results are concerned.

So far the Indian, with his hand-block print-
ing his pattern on his strip of muslin or cotton,
or dipping his tied cloth into the dye, produces
more artistic results than all our wonderful
machinery. Mechanical perfection is one thing,
and artistic feeling quite another, and the more
as an end a people seeks after the first the less
it is likely to care for or understand the other.

The chain of production, too, maybe mechanic-
ally complete, as in our best factories it may be
said to be as far as organization goes, yet we
may be still far from the finer sympathetic chain
of artistic association by means of which the
best work is produced. In this we must include
the stimulus of external beauty and harmonious
surroundings, as well as individual freedom.

Such a condition of things as might have
been found in any craft's-guild, and seen in full

Chap. X.
Of the
Collective
Influence

Interior of
the Atelier
of Etienne
Delaune.
Paris, 1576

and implements of their art around them. Of chap. x.
the three seated at the bench one is engraving coiieLive
or chasing; another at work upon a watch, drill- influence
ing apparently ; while the third is doing some
fine repoussd work. The young man at the
furnace is probably enamelling, and a boy at
the wheel appears to be wire-drawing. A great
variety of tools are placed in exemplary order
upon the walls—pincers, pliers, files, shears,
hammers, punches, a small anvil, crucibles, and
a pair of bellows for the furnace.

There are still some crafts which are worked
in this simple artistic co-operative way, and have
undergone but little changes of method since
the Middle Ages. Indeed, one might say all
the finer artistic handicrafts; and it is note-
worthy that the tools used are of the same type
—the sculptor's mallet and chisel, the painter's
palette and brushes, for instance, have remained
practically unchanged in form from time imme-
morial.

Those who have seen glass blowing and the
formation of glass vessels must have been
struck by the skill and celerity displayed by the
craftsmen at the furnace mouth, under very
trying conditions, and also by the necessity of
effective help at certain movements, when the
molten glass is made to revolve upon the bar
by one man, while the shape is given to it by
another. The master craftsman generally seems
to have two assistants, but the amount of co-
operation necessary in forming the vessels de-
pends much upon their size, small pieces being
completed by one alone.

There are glass works still working, such as
those at Whitefriars, which have been there

since the sixteenth century. The circle of
furnace mouths, the ruddy glow falling upon
the faces and figures of the workers, form a
striking scene. By a skill of manipulation that

might well appear magical seen for the first time,
the craftsmen produce vessels of any variety of
shape, constantly returning the work as it pro-
gresses to the fire. Though the work seems to
lend itself to the varying invention of the de-

signer, they can reproduce the section sketched in
chalk on a black panel at the side of the furnace
in a completed form to exact measurement.

The art of the printer of books, to which so
much interest has of late been drawn, and which
has been revived as an art by Mr. William

Chap. X.
Of the
Collective
Influence

Interior of
a Printing
Office in the
XVIth
century.
From Jost
Amman

Morris at his Kelmscott Press, affords another
instance of the necessity of intelligent and art-
istic co-operation.

To begin with, there is the paper; a good
tough handmade paper, like drawing paper, is
wanted for rich and bright impressions of type
or woodcuts. This must be made from the
best linen rags, and each sheet is manipulated
by the hands, by means of a wired frame of
wood dipped into the pulp and cunningly shaken
so that it (the pulp) shall spread over the wires
evenly to form, when dry, the sheet of paper.

Then the type-founding must be looked after.
Lettering of good form must be designed, and
so designed that each letter must be separate
and yet capable of forming words without
undue gaps, and also legible pages of agree-
able type, good in the mass and good in the
single letters and words. The type-founder
and designer must therefore be a man of taste
and cultivation, he must have a knowledge of
alphabets, of early printing and of historic MSS.
and calligraphy, and he must be a capable de-
signer, able to appreciate the niceties of line,
the value of a curve, of balance and mass, pro-
portion and appropriate scale.

Mr. Morris had several typical ancient types
photographed upon a large scale so as to more
easily compare their design and structure, and
founded his own designs for his Kelmscott
founts more or less upon them, giving them,
whether Roman or Gothic, a distinctive char-
acter of their own. This is about as near as
one can get in our conscious, selective way to
old methods, in which individuals from time to
time introduced small variations, while adhering

to the general style and form, so that the collect- chap. x.
ive traditional influence and historic continuity
is preserved with the cumulative advantages of influence
individual invention.

Of the placing of the type-page upon the
paper, regarding the double page of the open
book as the true unit, I have before spoken,
and a great deal of art comes into the setting
of the type, so as to disperse it without leaving
" rivers " or gaps—much as a designer of a re-
peating pattern v/ould seek to avoid running
into awkward accidental lines. Constructive
principle would here come in, and should be
serviceable to the printer in enabling him to
preserve a pleasant and harmonious ornamental
effect in his page.

The designer of printers' ornaments and book
illustrations, too, if he wishes to make his work
an essential and harmonious part of the book is,
while free in his own sphere, bound to remember
the conditions under which his work will be
produced and seen; and, so far from regarding
these conditions as restraints, should rather re-
gard them as sources of suggestion in the treat-
ment of his designs, making his initial letters
and decorative borders and headings natural
links to unite the formal ornamental element of
the type-page with the informal inclosed panel
of figure design which, in its treatment of line
or black and white mass, may be but an extension
of the same principles found in any individual
letter of the type-mass. The mechanical reason
for this is, of course, that it simplifies the process
of printing, type and woodcut being subject to
the same pressure.

cut type and woodcut ornaments and illustrations,
the success of the book now depends upon the
actual printer, as defective printing, poor im-
pressions, the blocks not up to full strength, the
impressions blurred, would spoil the effect of
the best work. Bright, clean impressions are
wanted, and much care and skill are required to
secure such, as well as time to allow the sheets

Finally the binder takes up the tale of col-
lective skill necessary to the production of that
one of the most beautiful of beautiful things—a
beautiful book.

Here, of course, an immense amount of art
may be called in over and above neat and care-
ful craftsmanship in the preliminary but most
necessary stages of " forwarding," as Mr. Cobden-

Sanderson has told us. Beautiful binding, indeed,
may display some of the most refined qualities
of decorative art in disposition of line and pattern,
while it affords in gold tooling another instance

WHEREUPON
ARETHEFOUN
DATIONSTH
EREOF FASTN
EDi OR WHO
LAID THECOR
NER STONE^C-
THEREOF^fe
WHEN THE«i
MORNING STAft
SANG.TOGETH
ER AND A.LL
THE SONS OF
GODSHOUTED
FOR JOY

of strict limitation of method lending itself to
free invention and fancy.

The artist is under the necessity of building
up his lines and constructing his forms by the
repetition of the impress of certain tools, the

355

most resourceful designer being shown by the
decorative use he is able to make of few and
simple forms. An examination of the designs
by Mr. Cobden-Sanderson, given here, will
show that they are built up of very few units.
A flower, a leaf, a stem, and straight lines of
borders with the lettering, which is also an
important ornamental unit. Everything de-
pends upon the taste and skill with which they
are used.

From the single example of the chain of as-
sociated labour necessary to the production of a
book, we may see then how much depends upon
intelligent and harmonious co-operation in col-
lective work. Where each process is so im-
portant, where the skill and taste of each worker
is so necessary to the complete result, one can
hardly say that one is more important than
another—certainly not less essential. We see,
too, how dependent the work of each is.

Each stone in the structure must be well and
truly laid, or sound progress and satisfactory
completion is impossible. Art in all its manifold
developments always teaches us this. Fault
or failure at one stage may ruin the whole work.

Are the foundations less important than, the
wall, is the wall less important than the window,
is the roof less essential to the house than the
carving of its porch, or the painting of its in-
terior ?

If we realize the close and necessary links
that unite all workers, that are essential to the
production of things useful or beautiful, or both,
should not we do well to strive to make the
association closer and more complete than it is,
and thus hand on the lamp of good tradition

Chap. X.

Of the

Collective

Influence

in design and workmanship, however far we Chap. x.
must look forward to the enlargement of our collective
horizon and the harmonizing of human life, and influence
its freedom from the sinister powers and false
ideals that now oppress and deceive it ? And if
we accept the truth that art is unity, and that
what the unit is the mass may become, should
we not strive, each in his sphere, whatever our
main work may be, to do it worthily and well ?
remembering that it is better to do a small thing
well than a big thing badly, and that it is the
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