metal-work, to Paris for his mantel-pieces, to Lyons for his silk, he
has found that in no other country than his own was he able to secure
the best wood-work. It may be, indeed, that if his desire had been
for the most perfect carving, he might not have had the satisfaction
of obtaining it in his own country--though some of the workers that
Mr. George Aitchison appears to have got hold of may render even
that doubtful. But in pursuing inquiries as to the means by which
the exceedingly bold designs of Owen Jones for ornamentation with
the colors of woods could be carried out (and the inquiries were not
confined to this country), Mr. Morrison found that no house out of
London was prepared to undertake a task that necessitated importations
of select woods from all parts of the world. In Mr. Forster Graham,
Owen Jones found a man able to enter into his ideas and to give
practical effect to them. Indeed, the famous architect and decorator
acknowledged his indebtedness to Mr. Graham for some effective
suggestions for the improvement of the original designs. Those who
know Mr. Morrison will easily understand that he too was by no means a
mere by-stander while the work was going on. At any rate, he may now
rejoice in having secured a home that has converted some portion of his
wealth into a more real value. For there is nothing in this house not
harmonious with its purpose. Every chair is as philosophically as it
is beautifully constructed, and nearly every one is different from the
other--one suggesting the perforated chairs of the Delhi palaces, and
another the old Saxon throne in Westminster Abbey. It is related of a
sensible and busy banker that, on being visited by some one, he said,
“I have a line or two to write; pray take a chair.” “Do you know who I
am, sir?” said the visitor, haughtily. “I am the Envoy Extraordinary
of ----.” “Oh, are you?” said the banker; “then pray take two chairs!”
This little story occurred to me as I was looking upon Mr. Morrison’s
chairs, and I fancied the Envoy Extraordinary, if asked to take one,
would probably have considered it as a significant mark of respect.
There is no sham in this house--no wood pretending to be metal, and
no iron affecting to be marble. As each particle of a rose under
the microscope has the rose’s beauty, so here each part of the
mansion bears witness to the care and taste with which the whole is
constructed--the table-leg as truly as the Lepec mantel-piece. We may
ascend the magnificent stairway, past the globes of light upheld by
bronze candelabra rising seven feet from the floor, and as we go from
story to story find good, painstaking work meeting us everywhere--in
the bedrooms, the nursery, the closets--some of the best ornamentation
in the house being a pale blue-and-gold scroll surrounding the skylight
at its top.
It is a pleasure to know that decorative skill has not passed away
with Owen Jones. The house of Frederick Lehmann, Esq., in Berkeley
Square, is the _chef-d’œuvre_ of Mr. George Aitchison, one of the
most celebrated architects and decorators in England, who has made the
most of very favorable conditions, has called to his aid congenial
artists and carvers, and has completed rooms which one would fain see
themselves hung upon the walls of the Royal Academy, and not merely
the designs of some of them, which were, indeed, exhibited there. The
house is ancient, and, though not very large, built liberally and
substantially, evidently in the days when Berkeley Square was near
enough to “the country” for space to be of less consideration than
now. In the course of the recent improvements there was found behind
an old chimney-piece a playing-card, upon the back of which is written
an invitation from a Mrs. Murray to Lady Talbot to pass the evening
at her house; and Mr. De la Rue declares that no card of a similar
character has been manufactured for a hundred and fifty years. Even
farther back in time than that we may safely place the old-fashioned,
nearly square hall--about twenty feet by seventeen--which is at once
hall and vestibule. It contains tables, cabinets, and a stand for
flowers, and the modern decoration sympathizes with what appears
to have been the old idea of a vestibule--a sheltered cortile. The
general tint is a very pale green, the surface-panelling large, and
ornamented with stems starting from a common root and ending each
in cones. The stems and cones curve toward each other, and form a
sort of circular grouping. A door on the left introduces us to the
library, whose walls are shelves of richly carved walnut, above which
is a dark leather frieze, which elegantly sets off the treasures of
ancient pottery and other antique objects which make the interesting
finish of the well-stored book-shelves all the way around the room. At
a certain point the books prove to be dummies, an unsuspected little
door flying open at a touch and revealing a lavatory. In this library,
where startling effects of any kind would be out of place, there are
no plays of color, but ample light falling upon the exquisitely carved
table for writing in the centre, which is the most remarkable for its
conveniences and contrivances that I have ever seen.
Ascending to the drawing-rooms, we enter first a small apartment,
whose floriated ceiling gives the effect of a bower. Between this and
the golden cornice is a cove of inlaid gold, upon which are traced
leaves of wistaria, interspersed with light pink clusters of the
phlox. The chief ornament is a large cabinet, reaching nearly to the
cornice--ebony and ivory--recently brought from the Vienna Exhibition:
it contains specimens of Eastern porcelain and various curiosities
collected by Mr. Lehmann, who would appear to have voyaged around the
world and found relics of all civilizations and all the ages of art.
This, however, is but an anteroom to the chief drawing-room, with which
it communicates by a large double sliding-door. This door and another
like it which admits to the dining-room are truly superb. They have a
frame of ebonized wood, enclosing panels of finest-grained amboyna.
The ebonized wood is foliated with gold, and the long central panels
are adorned with ovals of olive-colored Wedgwood ware, presenting
classical figures. The smaller panels above and below have at their
centres squares of the same. Each door has a capping of gold floriation
and a draping of French embroidered silk, at once heavy and delicate,
like tapestry. The walls are of a dark reddish-brown color, arranged
in large panels (from floor to cornice), enclosed by a fine painted
edging. This background elegantly sets off the pictures, which are all
excellent, some of them being among the best water-colors of Turner.
The ornament which chiefly strikes the eye in this room is a matchless
frieze, painted by the eminent artist Albert Moore, the design being
peacocks, their long trains in repose. The cornice above this is of
the egg-pattern, with a fretting above. The ceiling is, in a manner,
panelled; that is, it has on each side stiles or beams crossing each
other, making the large central space and the side spaces almost deep
enough to be called coffered. These cross-beams are finely feathered
with gold, and the interspaces are adorned with curved boughs, which
have small pointed leaves terminating in round decorative flowers.
The fireside of this room is highly ornamented. The grate is antique
in general appearance, but novel in structure; the silver owls
(life-size) sitting on either end of the fender-bar, and the old brass
mountings of the fire-dogs, have come from the past to guard a grate
which slides backward and forward as the regulation of the heat given
out may require. The tiles are representations of six varieties of
humming-birds, a paroquet, a sun-bird, and several other feathered
beauties. Near by is a folding screen of brilliant Japanese silk. The
room is covered to the border of the parquetage with a bright Persian
carpet. In the dining-room the original ceiling, with dark oak reliefs
(curved), has been retained--not happily, I am afraid, such ceilings
always absorbing too much light. Mr. Aitchison has given the spaces
a luminous decoration, but nevertheless the dark wood-work above can
only be retained by the use of a corresponding shade in the furniture.
This furniture is of rare beauty. The sideboard is most delicately
carved, and the serving-table inlaid with medallions of ivory, the
designs of which, by Albert Moore, represent various animals and fruits
suggestive of the uses of the room. There is a chimney-piece of ancient
work--ebony, with side pillars and excellent gold settings; but a
comparison of this bit of last century work with the furniture recently
made is likely to raise a question in the minds of those conservatives
who insist that the making of beautiful things is a lost art. It is
a pleasure to find hung in a room where each object bears the trace
of really fine art that portrait which has long been acknowledged
to be the ablest work of Millais, representing Mr. Lehmann’s little
daughter seated upon a Minton garden-seat on a lawn. When this picture
was exhibited at the Royal Academy, a few years ago, a writer in the
_Fortnightly Review_ pronounced it the work which, among modern English
productions, most recalled the peculiar vitality and sentiment which
have given the old masters their fame. I had the pleasure of seeing
the little lady at that time in her boudoir, to make which beautiful
Mr. Aitchison appears to have put forth his talent as earnestly as Mr.
Millais to paint her picture. A blue border encloses the large panels
of the walls, on which are _fleur-de-lis_ spots, and a bittern at each
panel centre. The frieze is painted in graceful floriations of lemons,
and the cove above is adorned with balsam and jasmine. The apartments
of Miss Lehmann, thus tenderly but not gaudily adorned, open into
the sleeping-room of her parents. This also is simply beautiful. The
walls are of a delicate blue shade, and all the textures appear as
if inwoven with softened sunshine. Mr. Smallfield’s genius has here
been brought into requisition, and he has painted beautiful groups of
flitting birds over the doors. The same artist has painted boughs of
apple-blossoms upon the door-panels in the boys’ room. But his finest
work is a frieze in Mrs. Lehmann’s boudoir--for such her monogram,
woven in the Persian carpet and carved in the marble mantel-piece,
announces it to be--which consists of doves, swallows, and flowers in
pots. Mrs. Lehmann’s boudoir is on the same floor with the dining-room,
from which it is separated by a charming little sitting-room. The walls
of this last-named room are entirely covered with the finest Gobelin
tapestry, above which a deep cornice of chased gold supports a cove,
chocolated, with decoration of silver leaflets.
[Illustration: EBONY SERVING-TABLE, MR. LEHMANN’S HOUSE.]
No wall-paper at all is used in this house. The ornamentation of
the walls throughout has been put on by the hand, and generally by
pouncing. Perhaps it may be well enough to state that the method of
pouncing is far more expensive than that of stencilling. In pouncing,
the figures to be painted on the wall are first pin-punctured on
paper; this paper is then laid on the wall and beaten with bags of
colored powder. When the paper is removed, each ornamental form is
delicately outlined on the wall in innumerable fine points. It is then
necessary that the decorative artist should trace the figures with a
pencil, and afterward paint them. Stencilling, which is less costly
than this by about one-third, consists simply in direct painting
through perforated metal, though it is necessary in most mural work
that the blank interstices so left should be painted over by hand.
The latter work is, however, always more stiff than the pounced. The
friezes have been painted on canvas, of course, since no gentleman
would allow his possession of works by such artists as those whom Mr.
Lehmann has employed to depend upon his remaining in any particular
house. It is, indeed, a very significant thing that such men as Albert
Moore and Smallfield should have been found ready to undertake work of
this description; for, though it is a return to such work as Giotto
and Michael Angelo were glad to do, we have heard of late years
occasional sneers at “mere decoration.” Strictly speaking, _all_ art
is mere decoration. There are other instances also where artists of
the greatest eminence have done excellent work of this character.
In the house of the Hon. Percy Wyndham, Belgrave Square, there is a
grand staircase, which has on the wall, near one of its landings, five
life-sized classical figures, by Sir Frederick Leighton, and at the
top a deep frieze of cormorants, storks, and other wild birds; and the
dining-room of the same beautiful mansion has been elegantly adorned by
Mrs. Wyndham--herself an artist--aided by Mr. V. Prinsep.
[Illustration: TOP OF SERVING-TABLE, MR. LEHMANN’S HOUSE.]
The pleasure with which I have visited Mr. Lehmann’s house is just
a little tempered by the difficulties I have found in the effort to
convey some impression of it. Passing down the stairways amid the
delicate hues lighting them up at every turn, and through the door-ways
curtained off from halls by rich Oriental draperies, and finding
myself again in the embowered square at the front of the house, I
feel conscious of an utter inability to give any reader an adequate
conception of the decorations amid which I have invited him to wander
in imagination. Let any one who has passed a morning in visiting the
interiors of the old Venetian palaces attempt to describe them! He will
have a dreamy impression of soft colors fading into each other, of
apartments that have caught on their walls the tints of rosy morning
and golden evening, and held them in a thousand little contrivances to
catch such sunbeams, and he will feel that the subtle influences of
beauty have overpowered his analysis. The finer secrets of art elude
detection, much more explanation, like those of nature.
The houses I have been describing are those of millionnaires. Whatever
may be thought of the large sums expended on their mansions, they do
not suggest the remark made by a wit to a gentleman as remarkable for
spending little as for making much, “You cannot take all this gold with
you, and if you did, it would _melt_.” They have preferred that their
gold should be transmuted in this world, and into forms that are none
the less beautiful for being costly. They are men who occupy a somewhat
abnormal position even in wealthy London, and one which admits of a
correspondingly rich and even grand environment. They have occasion,
and are able, to have rooms which relate them to a large and cultivated
world, while they can reserve for domestic privacy apartments that
fulfil the want which to others is the only end of a home--a centre
amid a busy and weary world for friendship, love, and repose. Even in
these grand palaces one may, indeed, witness a modesty and reality
which contrasts favorably with the at once stimulating and exhausting
splendors of the princely dwellings of the past. There is no attempt
here to heap into the rooms the great works of art which appropriately
belong to the community, and should be set up in edifices built for the
common benefit. One perceives, too, that the time has passed away when
Madame de Guerdin could define the life of an apartment as consisting
in “fires, mirrors, and carpets.” The life of an apartment consists in
the degree to which it subserves its end. The decoration of the _salon_
may well sympathize with the gayety of festive occasions, for it does
not exist for the family alone; but in the more private rooms the
tired limbs will require rest on chair or couch, and equally the eye
will need rest upon soft and subdued shades.
There will, however, arise in the mind of many a reader of the poor
descriptions I have been able to give of these two houses (which
represent an exceptional class) a moral misgiving. Is not all this a
waste of money that might have been expended for greater and nobler
purposes? Is not all this mere luxury and extravagance? Well, in the
first place, it is difficult to draw the line between the beauty which
Nature seeks as she climbs to flowers and man as he decorates his
dwelling, and the luxuriousness which makes external beauty in itself
an end rather than a means. Take away all that has been added to our
homes by art, and we all become naked savages living in mud or log
huts. But, in the second place, what about this “waste of money” so
often charged against expensive decorations? Poor Zouloaga, working in
a little peasant village of people poor as himself, might not have the
same charge to bring against the wealthy Englishman who found him out.
He and a host of artists and artisans in this and other countries might
find more wisdom in Rhodora’s philosophy, that
“if eyes are made for seeing,
Then Beauty is its own excuse for being;”
and they might add that if the taste and skill which are able to make
beautiful things exist, there may be good reason why a demand should
also exist for what they can supply. I do not propose to argue the
vexed question of political economy concerning the degree to which
luxury is justified by its distribution of capital among laborers, but
it seems very clear that there can be no reason to deplore the free or
even lavish expenditures of the wealthy for objects which are not in
themselves pernicious.
[Illustration: POT DESIGNED BY MISS LEVIN.]
It has been one particularly gratifying incident of the passion for
decoration in this country that it has been the means of opening to
women beautiful and congenial employments. Miss Jekyl, who was one of
the first to take up this kind of work, attracted the attention of Sir
Frederick Leighton, Madame Bodichon, and other artists by her highly
artistic embroidery, and has since extended her work to _repoussé_, or
ornamental brass-work--especially sconces--and many other things. She
has, I hear, acquired not only distinction but wealth by her skill,
some specimens of which are exhibited in the International Exhibition
at South Kensington this year. There, also, may be seen the work of
other ladies who have followed in her footsteps, some of the finest
being by a Miss Leslie, a relative of the celebrated artist of that
name. Indeed, there has now been established in Sloane Street a school
for embroidery, which has succeeded in teaching and giving employment
to a number of gentlewomen who had been reduced in circumstances, and
whose success those who observed their contributions to the Centennial
Exhibition at Philadelphia will not underestimate. Miss Philott, whose
paintings have often graced the walls of exhibitions, and have gained
the interest of Mr. Ruskin, has of late been painting beautiful figures
and flowers on plaques, which, when the colors are burnt in by Minton,
make ornaments that are eagerly sought for. A Miss Coleman has also
gained great eminence for this kind of work. Miss Lévin has displayed
much skill in designing and painting pots, plates, etc., with Greek
or Pompeian figures. The painting of panels with vines, blossoming
branches, and even birds, is also a pretty industry of this kind.
The late Miss May Alcott was very ingenious in this kind of work,
and several specimens of her art are preserved with care in England.
Many of these ladies have begun by undertaking such work as this for
personal friends, but have pretty generally found that the circle of
those who desire such things is very large, and that their art is held
in increasing esteem among cultivated people. It is even probable that
the old plan which our great-grandmothers had of learning embroidery
will be revived in more important forms, and be taught as something
more than the accomplishment it was once thought.
It has been found, too, that artists, architects, decorators, and the
numerous workmen they employ have great respect for any woman who
can do anything well, which contrasts favorably with the jealousy
which the efforts of that sex to find occupation in other professions
appear to have aroused. One example of this is particularly striking.
A good many years ago I heard of a young lady of high position who
was making almost desperate efforts to win her way into the medical
profession. She had taken a room near one of the largest hospitals in
London, to which she was not openly admitted, that she might study
cases of disease or injury, but where, through the generosity of
certain physicians, she was able, as it were, to pick up such crumbs of
information as might fall from the table of the male students. By dint
of her perseverance means of information and study increased. I visited
her room near the hospital, and found this young lady surrounded by
specimens such as are conventionally supposed to bring fainting-fits
on any person of that sex at sight. I found that, being excluded from
the usual medical and surgical schools, she had been compelled to
employ lecturers to teach her alone. Fortunately she had the means of
doing this, but it amounted to her establishing a medical college, of
which she was the only student. That lady is now known as Dr. Elizabeth
Garrett-Anderson, an eminent physician, who has done not her sex alone
but this entire community a great benefit, by showing that a woman’s
professional success is not inconsistent with her being a devoted and
happy wife and mother. By the side of the long struggle through which
she had to go to obtain her present position--a struggle in which
many a woman with less means and courage has succumbed--I am able to
place the experience of her younger sister and of her cousin, Agnes
and Rhoda Garrett, who have entered into a partnership as decorative
artists. These young ladies, it may be premised, have by no means been
driven to their undertaking by the necessity of earning a livelihood.
They belong to an old family of high position, and are as attractive
ladies as one is likely to meet in the best society of London. But,
like the better-known ladies in the same family, Dr. Garrett-Anderson
and Mrs. Professor Fawcett, they are thinkers, and they have arrived
at conclusions concerning the duties and rights of their sex which
forbid them to emulate the butterflies. A few years ago, when the
decorative work of such firms as Messrs. Morris & Co. began to attract
general attention, it appeared to them that it offered opportunities
for employment suitable to women. They determined to go through a
regular apprenticeship; and though they were met by looks of surprise,
they were not met with any incivility. One gentleman allowed them to
occupy a room at his offices, where they might pick up what knowledge
they could in the art of glass-painting, and here they awaited
farther opportunity. The architect who had been connected with this
glass-staining firm separated from it, and, having begun a business of
his own, accepted the application of the Misses Garrett to become his
apprentices. They were formally articled for eighteen months, during
which they punctually fulfilled their engagement, working from ten
to five each day. Of course there were good stories told about them.
Some friend, calling upon them, reported that, though the interview
was interesting, the ladies could not be seen, as they were up on a
scaffolding, lying flat on their backs close to a ceiling which they
were painting. From that invisible region their voices descended to
carry on the conversation. The ladies themselves were quite able to
appreciate all the good-humored chaff attending their serious aim.
When their apprenticeship reached its last summer they went on a tour
throughout England, sketching the interiors and furniture of the
best houses, which were freely thrown open to them. They are now an
independent firm, with extensive business, and have gained fame, not
only by their successful decoration of many private houses, but by
their admirable treatment of the new female colleges connected with the
English Universities. Mr. J. M. Brydon, of Marlborough Street, is the
architect who has the honor of having had these ladies for apprentices;
and these ladies assure me that during their stay there and in their
work since they have met with no act of incivility. Occasionally the
workmen may stare a little at the unaccustomed sight of ladies moving
about with authority, but they are most respectful when they find that
there is intelligence behind the authority. From a friend of these
ladies I heard a significant anecdote. They directed that a certain
kind of mixture with which paint is generally adulterated should not be
used. When they came to look at the work they found that the mixture
had been used, though it is what no untrained eye could detect. They
called the painter to account, and he said he had used very little of
the mixture indeed.
“That is true,” said one of the ladies, “but we told you not to use a
particle of it.”
The painter was amazed, and at last said, “Will you be kind enough to
tell me how you knew that mixture had been used?”