COLOUR AND PATTERN
WE have seen how largely Design in its manifold forms has been
influenced by various physical conditions and necessities, and 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 differences 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.
Now to what principal cause may we trace these broad differences in the
choice and treatment 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 organized
social life of civilization of some kind, bright sunshine was the rule,
and indicate proportionally 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 prevalence in
a greater or lesser degree in different countries, then, that we may
attribute the differences 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 sensitive
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 with those differences; or follow her system of
coloration in the ordinary procession of the seasons, without going out
of our own country.
With the return of the sun and lengthening days and the new awakening
of life in the spring, a delicate bloom overspreads the landscape, 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; and 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 yellow 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.
This drama of expressive colour is enacted before our eyes every
year--those of us, at least, who are fortunate enough to live in the
country, and are 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 manifestations of our home arts
to note these changes with the characteristic colours of our varied
landscape 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 represents its extinction.
Light and darkness are the black and white on the palette of nature,
necessary 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 mountains, woodland, sea-board, lake,
river, agricultural land, or wild nature.
We associate brilliant colours and bold designs with eastern and
southern countries, but, apart from the greater stimulus of light which
might encourage the use of vivid colour, there is, I think, another
reason which accounts for the 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 which under a gray sky would look staring, or very strong
and striking, under the full sunlight 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 mediæval 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 building 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 persistent sunshine for the most part, summer and winter. Inside
the porch, in the spandril and vault, is faced with Della 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 admirably. Otherwise the porch is interesting from the
curious blend of Byzantine, Saracenic, and classical motives and
influences in decoration.
[Illustration: PORCH of CATHEDRAL OF S. JACOPO PISTOIA]
Seen in the cold and dull light of an English museum, away from their
proper architectural surroundings, panels of Della Robbia ware are apt
to look somewhat strong, bold, or rank in colour, which only shows
they were designed in a sunny bright climate, and to be seen in a full
external or warm reflected light as a rule. The very qualities that
make the ware trying in one place make it right in another.
The various historic types of design in architecture and decoration
are, in fact, mostly the result of the blending or uniting of elements
derived 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 construction, 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 imperishable in their monuments of art.
Of such the ancient Egyptians must always be typical.
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 Duc) will
give a clear idea of the form and character of the primitive Egyptian
dwelling. In the course of an interesting account of its construction
he says: that it is a dwelling for a country where _brilliant sunshine
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.
[Illustration: Primitive Egyptian House, after Viollet le Duc]
[Illustration: COLUMN FROM TEMPLE OF LUXOR.]
When the Egyptians learned the art of building and carving in stone
from the rock dwellers above the Delta, and built their great temples,
they still perpetuated in stone, in the reeded and filleted columns
with lotus capitals, the ornamental traditions of the reed-built
primitive dwelling, and the painter still adorned them in bright
primitive colours; so that we are perpetually reminded of the great
riverside, from which sprung the flower of that ancient art and
civilization. Another effect of climate 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, when the world of design suffers rather
from what might be called too generous 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 corrective. The simplicity, severity,
and restraint, abstract and yet vivid characterization of form, frank
and primitive coloration, purposeful intention, and mural motives
and methods are full of suggestiveness and value to the student and
decorative designer.
[Illustration: DESIGN OF PERSIAN CAPITAL INFLUENCED BY PRIMITIVE TIMBER
CONSTRUCTION]
[Illustration: LOTUS CAPITAL, PHILÆ.]
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 very remote past, and may be said to be the source of the
most beautiful types of ornamental 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, 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,[7] the
artistic skill of the Persians in this kind of work, and their sense of
its value, and the treatment of colour and ornament, dates back to a
very early period.
[7] See "Acropole de Suse," Hachette et Cie., 79, Boulevard St.
Germaine, Paris.
In the famous frieze of archers, which formed part of the wall
decoration of this palace, the figures are frankly repeated in design
though alternating in the patterns 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 severely 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, and would
be very impressive and at the same time truly mural and reposeful in
feeling and colour.
Such a scheme of frank colour and fine detail 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 tablelands 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.
[Illustration: FRIEZE IN COLOURED AND GLAZED BRICKS, PALACE OF SUSA.
FROM THE REPRODUCTION AT SOUTH KENSINGTON.]
The Moorish or Arabian form constantly occurs as an ornamental cresting
in carved woodwork, and also appears to have suggested an ornamental
form largely used with variations in eastern carpets, notably those of
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 is well known, and continues down to our own time.
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 conversion 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 rearranged in the new galleries in
Imperial Institute 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 colour. A curious feature in
the pattern of this carpet is a hanging lamp, such a lamp as is used
for lighting mosques, with a painted glass body, 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 translation 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 particular 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
described 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 Persian 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?
[Illustration: HOLY CARPET OF THE MOSQUE AT ARDEBIL (SOUTH KENSINGTON
MUSEUM).]
The same sensitiveness to natural beauty and the influence of climate
is shown in their poets. The astronomer-poet of Persia, Omar Khayyám,
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."
Spring in Persia must be a much more sudden 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 straightway 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 backbone of the country in
ancient times, and furnished 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 recuperative power, or a power of
absorbing their conquerors, 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 matter of conjecture; but in the Susa work we are reminded of
Assyrian decoration, and even of Greek and Egyptian influence.
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 century, and the conversion
of the country to the Mohammedan faith. Even then, however, although
in Mohammedan art the representation 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 invention
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 persistent 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 screen
so characteristic of old Cairo and Arabian life, is repeated with
variations in India, and not only in wood but in stone and faïence.
We find small ogee-pointed windows 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 openings. One of these windows is here illustrated. There is
nothing more delicate or beautiful in the whole range of architectural
ornament.
[Illustration: ARAB CASEMENT FROM CAIRO (SOUTH KENSINGTON MUSEUM. DRAWN
BY W. CLEOBURY).]
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 decoration 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 splendour of the interior of the
mosques, the Mohammedan, 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
intensified 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.
[Illustration: INDIA. CARVED STONE LATTICE WINDOW FROM THE MOSQUE OF
THE PALACE OF AHMEDABAD.]
This wonderful contrast of bright and dark, of glitter and solemnity,
the splendour of sunlight 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 sunlight 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 atmosphere,
with a regulated, ordered life, as in her ancient days, under a long
succession of dynasties, and we see the outcome in art--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 Norman, Gothic with Renascence, in an unexampled
wealth and profusion of inventive design in architecture, sculpture,
painting, and all the family of artistic handicrafts, which makes her a
happy 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 restrained 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 magnificence
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, dramatic; ever experimenting
and inquiring, and desiring, like the ancient Greeks, some new thing.
Pursuing our journey northwards, we might 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
accustomed to contend with difficulties, proud, yet devotional, and
fond of comfort, kneeling, well-clad in velvets and rich furs against a
northern climate.
[Illustration: SPAIN. PORTION OF THE ALHAMBRA. DRAWN BY GUSTAVE DORÉ.]
Germany would tell a similar tale in her arts, though with a more
dominant military and religious note, more fantasy and more melancholy,
and with a wild grotesque element corresponding with her more varied
conditions of climate and scenery. The latter quality is still more
marked among the old towns of Bohemia. The two sketches here give some
of the architectural characteristics of both town and country dwellings.
[Illustration: OLD HOUSE IN TURNOV, BOHEMIA, DATED 1816.]
[Illustration: STREET IN EGER, 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 characteristics 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 uncertain 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 comfort, 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 certainly
displays? While our architecture (in spite of foreign importations)
is obliged to consider 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--are chosen perhaps more to live
with quietly than to excite controversy, or compel a reference to the
grammar of ornament.