The ornamentalist is more indebted to plants and flowers, both for
materials and suggestions in design, than to any other division in the
domain of nature. The best conventional and æsthetic floral ornament was
the outcome of the study of plants and flowers. That characteristic
Greek ornament, the honeysuckle or anthemion, is said to have originated
from the Egyptian lotus flower, or the Sacred Hom, and not from the
honeysuckle; the conventional rendering of this flower in ornament is
said to have been adapted from the Egyptian forms by the Chaldæans; and
later the children of those ancient flower-worshippers, the Assyrians,
developed the pattern into more ornate forms. The Greeks in their turn
are supposed to have copied the anthemion from the Assyrians: at first
it was archaic and stiff, but full of vitality as ornament, and well
adapted for its various uses and positions; and at last perfected to
such a degree of æsthetic purity in the Erechtheum, as to lose all
traces of any particular plant, while embodying the best qualities of
plant-growth; for in it we see vigorous life combined with grace and
elegance.
Another phase of floral and leaf growth, and its proper development
into pure ornament, can be studied in the many rosettes of the various
styles. These are circular in plan, and would appear at first sight to
be derived from flowers, but are mostly a cluster of leaves, radiating
like the spokes of a wheel, either straight or curved.
[Illustration: FIG. 136.--Rosettes or pateræ from Roman ornament,
composed of leaf and floral forms.]
There are many plants--for instance, the bedstraw and the madder--that
have their sets of leaves arranged in a whorl round the joints of their
upright stems; looking down on these leaves we notice that the plan
appears like a rosette. This idea may have occurred to the ancients when
designing their rosettes. The results, obtained by grouping a cluster of
leaves together in this manner, are finer and stronger in appearance
than any imitation of flowers, particularly in sculptured work. (See
Fig. 136.) Leaflets and bracts growing at the junctions of stems and
leaves also furnished ideas and forms for the making up of rosettes and
similar ornament; but more use is made of these bracts in what is called
“clothing stems,” or sheaths, some varieties of which are illustrated at
Figs. 137 and 157; in fact, very good ornament is often composed of a
stem or meander clothed with these bracts alone. Root forms are not much
used in European ornament, though Indian, Saracen, and Mediæval
decoration abound in examples of the treatment of roots. (See Fig.
138.) The objection to their use is this, that it gives the whole
ornament the appearance of having been pulled up and hung to dry. This
must always be an objection to their use, unless the root can be shown
in the ground; consequently the Roman and Renaissance artists let their
ornament
[Illustration: FIG. 137.--Bracts used for “clothing” stems in scrolls,
&c.]
spring from vases or clusters of leaves. When roots are used it is clear
that the general outline of the root must alone be taken, and the
character of the growth expressed simply, to prevent confusion and
obscurity.
[Illustration: FIG. 138.--Mediæval and Oriental root forms.]
As a rule, all redundances, excrescences, and accidental waywardness of
growth, that might be interesting to a botanist, ought to be avoided in
the decorative rendering of plant form; the average form and the higher
beauties should alone be expressed. Though this may seem a paradox, the
less realistic we make our designs, the more nature we put into them.
We should strive to put the most perfect forms of nature into our
ornament, avoiding those that are poor and stunted, as well as
over-nourished and rank ones, though nature abounds in both.
[Illustration: FIG. 139.--Laurel from nature.]
In Persian[7] ornament we find flower and plant forms treated in a
thoroughly decorative manner (Figs. 118 and 119); the pink and hyacinth
were as great favourites with Persian decorators as the maple and vine
were in mediæval work, the lotus and papyrus in Egyptian, the peony in
Chinese, and the chrysanthemum in Japanese; while such styles as the
Greek, Roman, Celtic, and Saracenic are more purely conventional, and,
without having much realism, are still based on natural forms.
Students in design cannot be too strongly advised to cultivate the habit
of making correct drawings of
[Illustration: FIGS. 140 and 141.--Borders derived from the laurel.]
all kinds of plants, both in flower and fruit, especially those of
single flower and of simple growth, accompanied by careful notes of the
construction at the stem and leaf junctions.
The botanical analysis of a plant may serve a scientific end, and be
useful to show the student the construction of the plant, but it makes a
very poor show in an artistic design. Landor the poet said it was an
act of cruelty to cut a flower from its stem: it would be interesting to
know his opinion of that school which believes in dissecting plants to
find “new forms,” many of whose designs present novelties that nature
never dreamt of, such as leaves neatly cut in half, elevations, and
sections of petals, stamens, pistils, seed pods, and other curious forms
suggested
[Illustration: FIG. 142.--Wild rose from nature.]
by these dissections, so that the design when completed is an anatomical
preparation, and certainly innocent of any violation of the second
commandment. A section through some flowers may, however, give
suggestions of outline for some flat ornament. The testimony of the best
old decorative design is against this practice. It is refreshing to see
that in England a reaction is setting in, mainly owing to the efforts
of such men as Sir Edward Burne-Jones, Messrs. Morris, Crane, and a few
others, who prefer nature to novelty.
[Illustration: FIG. 143.--Design for a paper-hanging from the wild
rose.]
In selecting plants for particular purposes, it is well to bear in mind
the material to be decorated, whether it be woven stuff, wood, or
metal-work, and to choose the kind best adapted to the purpose--as the
hare-bell, the wild poppy, grasses, and delicate ferns for muslins,
cottons, and lace; the oak, orange, lemon, pomegranate, and the mallow
for wood-and for stone-carving, and for iron-work. At the same time, a
too rigid adherence to these principles is not to be advised. What is of
most importance is to adhere to the growth
[Illustration: FIG. 144.--Borders of medallions in enamelled earthenware
by Luca della Robbia.]
and character of the plant we use; for instance, a plant like the laurel
(Fig. 139) is best suited for an upright or horizontal border. (See
Figs. 140, 141.) The wild rose (Fig. 142) and the lemon (Fig. 145) are
both
[Illustration: FIG. 145.--Lemon from nature.]
[Illustration: FIG. 146.--Design for a carved wood panel from the lemon
plant.]
suitable for panels of almost any form, for all-over patterns, or for
paper-hangings, &c. (See Figs. 143 and 146.) For narrow upright panels,
plants of upright growth, such as the lily, the ox-eye, and the iris,
&c., are most suitable. (See for illustrations Figs. 147 and 148.) A
trailing vine makes a good ceiling decoration, and was so used by the
Byzantine mosaic workers. Lastly, plants of horizontal growth, such as
the dandelion, the daisy, &c., looked at from above, might be best
adapted for a floor, a carpet, or a table-cover.
[Illustration: FIG. 147.--Tiger lily from nature.]
[Illustration: FIG. 148.--Panel arrangement from the Tiger lily.]
The well-known conventional _acanthus_ and its varieties must now be
described. There have been various suggestions concerning the identical
plant from which the acanthus ornament is derived, but, like the
anthemion of the Greeks, there is some
[Illustration: FIG. 149.--Acanthus Mollis from nature.]
obscurity about it. The story told by Vitruvius of the sculptor
Callimachus having the Corinthian capital suggested to him, by finding
the plant growing round a basket covered by a square tile, is a
plausible and certainly a pretty one (Vit. lib. 4, cap. 1). At any rate,
Callimachus is credited by Vitruvius with the first use of the acanthus
in capitals. The ornamental forms of the acanthus bear little
resemblance to the natural leaf. (See Figs. 149, 150, 151, and 152.) The
two latter are
[Illustration: FIG. 150.--Acanthus Spinosus from nature.]
leaves from Greek capitals, the first two have been drawn from nature.
The acanthus, as we know it in the capitals of the Greek and Roman
Corinthian, and the Roman Composite orders, is an artistic creation,
adapted to suit the ends of a grand style of architecture, and not an
imitation of a particular leaf. The characteristic difference of the
classic ornament from the natural leaf lies in the “pipes” that start
from the “eyes” at the base of the leaflets,
[Illustration: FIG. 151.--Greek acanthus leaf from a capital of the
Tower of the Winds.]
and, somewhat contrary to nature, taper downwards to the base of the
leaf; these pipes, together with the central stalk, impart that strength
and dignity which is necessary for architectural foliage, especially
when it adorns the bell of a capital. (See Fig. 154.) The pipes are less
important, and are consequently less marked in examples of smaller work,
such as may be found in the acanthus of candelabra and panels, in which
constructive strength is not required.
[Illustration: FIG. 152.--Greek acanthus leaf with flowers from a
capital of the Choragic Monument of Lysikrates.]
On the Corinthian capital, the acanthus presents a simple edge exactly
repeated on each leaflet, with far less serration than is seen in the
natural foliage: this imparts dignity to the leaf. On modillions a more
serrated and smaller variety is used, with the stalks and pipes still
prominent; while on candelabra and small pillars the leaves lie flatter,
and the leaflets overlap, and owing to the fact that the leaves are
smaller in scale and nearer to our eyes, more serrations and more detail
may be put into them, for the smaller the scale the more detail is
necessary.
[Illustration: FIG. 153.--Roman leaf of capital,--the olive leaf
acanthus variety,--see Introductory Chapter.]
[Illustration: Plan showing stalk, pipes, and undercut channels of Fig.
153.]
(See Fig. 156.) To prevent the foliage in the latter examples from
appearing flimsy, as it would naturally do with an overlapping edge much
cut up, the edges of the leaves should be slightly thickened and rounded
so as to catch the light, thus giving a rich quality to the decoration.
The Greeks mostly used
[Illustration: FIG. 154.--Acanthus: olive leaf variety from a capital of
Mars Ultor.]
that kind of acanthus that is known as the _Acanthus spinosus_, or the
prickly variety; the Romans preferred the _Acanthus mollis_, or the
soft-leaved kind. The olive-leaf has been used for the raffles of the
leaves in the capitals of Jupiter Stator, Mars Ultor, and the Pantheon
at Rome (see Figs. 154, 185, and 188), while at the Temple of Vesta at
Tivoli the capitals have the oak-leaved variety. A bit of the
soft-leaved acanthus is shown at Fig. 155 from the soffit of the
architrave at the temple of Jupiter
[Illustration: FIG. 155.--Soft-leaved acanthus from the soffit of the
architrave at the temple of Jupiter Stator.]
[Illustration: FIG. 156.--Acanthus used on candelabra and small
pillars.]
Stator. The Romans sometimes used the acanthus in a lavish way,
overloading mouldings with it; the cornice of the Temple of Jupiter
Tonans, for instance, is overdone with decoration. (See Fig. 186.) The
more modern type of acanthus used on majolica
[Illustration: FIG. 157.--Water plant stem, showing channelling.]
[Illustration: FIG. 158.--Acanthus and water leaf foliage from an
antique Roman shaft.]
[Illustration: FIG. 159.--Modern varieties of sea-weed and poppy-leaved
acanthus used in decoration.]
plates and in painted decoration is of a very free character, but it
only holds a secondary place, being generally found in combination with
animal forms and grotesques. The utmost freedom in the curve and reflex
curve may be allowed in the painted forms of the acanthus; this being
logical enough when we consider that the greater part of the leafage is
generated by the free play of the brush. (See Fig. 159.) The arabesques
of the Vatican, and the Italian cinque-cento ware, afford the best
examples of this painted foliage. The acanthus was the parent of nearly
all the subsequent styles of decorative foliage down to the Saracenic
and late Romanesque, and its modifications have shown the difficulty of
improving on the Classic type. We are advised by ornamentalists and
writers on art to seek for a new leaf that might in time rival the
acanthus in ornament. The advice may be good, and many have given their
attention to it, but no lasting results have as yet been obtained. Of
late years there is a kind of scroll-work much favoured by some
ornamentalists. It cannot of course be called new, few things can be in
this world; but its persistent application, from illumination to
stone-carving, will perhaps in time stamp it with a traditional
character. The foliage is more like sea-weed than anything else, but it
also has a faint resemblance to the acanthus, the ox-eye, and the wild
poppy (Fig. 159). We have no fixed principles of ornamental art; even
ornamentalists themselves disagree as to what is good, and what is bad,
so that nothing lives long enough to become national ornament. How can
we hope to vie with the ornamental
[Illustration: FIG. 160.--Winter aspect of a pear tree, illustrating
“balance” in nature.]
art of Greece, when the artists disagree and the nation is indifferent;
while the Greeks enjoyed unity of artistic thought, and gloried in the
worship of the beautiful? To gain a fuller insight into the delicate
varieties of the acanthus, the student is advised to carefully examine
and draw the foliage in the pilasters of Louis XII.’s tomb. The late
Alfred Stevens has done more than any one of late years to properly
apply the acanthus. (See Fig. 132.)