Wall fountains as we know them are introduced into our modern houses for
their decorative interest and for the joy they give us, the joyous sound
and color of falling water. We use them because they are beautiful and
cheerful, but originally they had a most definite purpose. They were
built into the walls of the dining-halls in medieval times, and used for
washing the precious plate.
If you look into the history of any _objet d'art_ you will find that it
was first used for a purpose. All the superb masterly things that have
come to us had logical beginnings. It has remained for the thoughtless
designer of our times to produce things of no use and no meaning. The
old designers decorated the small objects of daily use as faithfully as
they decorated the greater things, the wall spaces and ceilings and
great pieces of furniture, and so this little wall basin which began in
such a homely way soon became a beautiful thing.
Europe has countless small fountains built for interior walls and for
small alcoves and indoor conservatories, but we are just beginning to
use them in America. American sculptors are doing such notable work,
however, that we shall soon plan our indoor fountains as carefully as we
plan our fireplaces. The fact that our houses are heated mechanically
has not lessened our appreciation of an open fire, and running water
brought indoors has the same animate charm.
[Illustration: FOUNTAIN IN THE TRELLIS ROOM OF MRS. ORMOND G. SMITH]
[Illustration: MR. JAMES DEERING'S WALL FOUNTAIN]
I am showing a picture of the wall fountain in the entrance hall of my
own New York house in East Fifty-fifth Street. I have had this wall
fountain built as part of the architectural detail of the room, with a
background of paneled mirrors. It spills over into a marble curbed pool
where fat orange-colored goldfish live. I keep the fountain banked with
flowers. You can imagine the pleasure of leaving the dusty city
streets and entering this cool, pleasant entrance hall.
Our modern use of indoor fountains is perfectly legitimate: we use them
to bring the atmosphere of outdoors in. In country houses we use
fountains in our gardens, but in the city we have no gardens, and so we
are very wise to bring in the outdoor things that make our lives a
little more gay and informal. The more suggestive of out-of-doors the
happier is the effect of the sun room. Occasionally one sees a rare
house where a glass enclosed garden opens from one of the living-rooms.
There is a house in Nineteenth Street that has such an enclosed garden,
built around a wall fountain. The garden opens out of the great
two-storied music-room. Lofty windows flank a great door, and fill the
end of the room with a luminous composition of leaded glass. Through the
door you enter the garden, with its tiled floor, its glass ceiling, and
its low brick retaining walls. The wall fountain is placed exactly in
front of the great door, and beneath it there is a little semi-circular
pool bordered with plants and glittering with goldfish. Evergreens are
banked against the brick walls, and flat reliefs are hung just under the
glass ceiling. The garden is quite small, but takes its place as an
important part of the room. It rivals in interest the massive Gothic
fireplace, with its huge logs and feudal fire irons.
The better silversmiths are doing much to encourage the development of
indoor fountains. They display the delightful fountains of our young
American sculptors, fountains that would make any garden room notable.
There are so many of these small bronze fountains, with Pan piping his
irresistible tune of outdoors; children playing with frogs or geese or
lizards or turtles; gay little figures prancing in enchanted rings of
friendly beasties. Why don't we make use of them?