to reform men’s dress. They serve to convince one that costume is
really controlled by the forms of social life, condition, occupation,
rank, general tradition, sentiment, and sense of fitness, so that
we can only reasonably expect great changes in the outsides of life
when corresponding changes are affecting the inside--the economic
foundations, constitution, and moral tone of society.
But let us look at the ladies.
Here at all events appears to be a field for the cultivation and
display of taste and beauty for the sake of beauty and taste alone.
Mere convenience and utility in a lady’s evening dress does not appear
to be consulted at all. It often loses much of its primal covering
capacity, and takes the form of a floral dressing to set off the head
and bust and arms of the fair wearer. Most delicate materials and
colours are used--white samite, mystic, wonderful; trailing clouds of
glory in tulle and gauze; Eastern embroidery, and Chinese and Indian
silks, gold, coral, pearl, diamonds and precious stones, and flowers
both real and (alas!) artificial, are some of the materials which
contribute to the modern lady’s evening toilette.
In the choice and use of these beautiful materials there is evidently
abundant room for the exercise of the nicest judgement and the most
refined and delicate individual taste. There can be no doubt, too, that
these qualities are often met with, and that they are invariably found
with a love and considerable knowledge of art. I do not say that a
knowledge of art alone will enable people to dress tastefully. That is
not always the case. The power of expression of taste or individuality
in dress is no doubt like other gifts of expression, innate.
But a study of art, the training of the eye to appreciate the
delicacies of beautiful line and quality of colour, and beauty of
design in pattern, even without much executive power, must act upon the
selective capacity generally. I think there is no doubt that we do see
the signs of artistic culture, over and above natural distinction of
choice, more frequently in the dress of refined and cultured women in
our days than at any former period, perhaps, since the first half of
the sixteenth century. There is more variety, more individuality, signs
of that increasing independence of thought and action which distinguish
our countrywomen.
The immense range of choice, both in simple and costly materials in
women’s dress, may be put down to increased commercial activity and the
modern command of the markets of the world, no doubt. The taste and
discrimination which selects and combines them in an artistic dress,
is, to begin with, instinctive, but is largely aided and guided by
conscious cultivation and the study of art and the works of artists, I
think.
We may, indeed, detect certain distinct influences in certain leading
types of women’s dress, even in that comparatively narrow region left
to individual choice by the dictates of fashion or the milliner,
dressmaker, and draper, and comparatively few feel themselves at
liberty to move much beyond this.
If then our dictators, for the mass, must at present be sought
principally in these professional or trade directions we are thrown
back again upon the quality and effectiveness of our artistic and
technical education.
The great municipalities are busy spending large sums upon technical
institutes, where the artistic lamb is expected to lie down with
the manufacturing and commercial lion, where science and art are to
become inseparable, if not undistinguishable, and inventive design is
expected to keep pace with the labour or wage-saving ingenuities, and
mechanical economics forced upon the manufacturer by competition. Among
other things millinery and dressmaking will be taught, so that one may
suppose the technical school will have a direct bearing upon taste in
dress.
The same difficulty arises here as in the case of art-school teaching.
You may lead a horse to the water but you cannot make him drink.
Rather, perhaps, we are providing patent buckets before securing a
water supply. What I mean is that, ultimately, in all the arts, in all
matters of taste and beauty we must go back to life and nature. Beauty
is inseparably associated with love, and cannot be produced without
it: and unless the conditions of ordinary life admit of beauty we must
not expect the reproduction of beautiful things. We cannot expect that
science, or mechanical principles, or commercial demand will enable us
to produce it in any direction to order. We cannot expect to get beauty
at any price, if while arranging an elaborate system of art education
on the one hand we allow ourselves to destroy its sources in nature, in
the beauty of our own land, by ruthless destruction or vulgarization
now too common. Beauty and taste can only spring out of the conditions
or the materials which go to the making of a harmonious life. They
must have opportunities of germinating and growing up in minds with
leisure to think, with capacity to feel, with freedom and opportunity
to select, with materials and margin for experiment, and above all with
a centralizing social ideal--a keynote of love hope or faith.
Let us ask ourselves how far we are, individually or collectively, from
the attainment of such conditions.
OF TEMPORARY STREET-DECORATIONS
The decoration of streets at times of public rejoicing seems to afford
abundant opportunities for the exercise of artistic taste and fancy,
and since in our time such occasions are apparently on the increase,
it might be worth while for artists to give more serious attention to
design of this kind. It cannot be said that hitherto public efforts at
street decoration in this country have been very distinguished. English
individualistic habits, and English commercial instincts are both
unfavourable to artistic success in this direction; we are not good at
collective expression in any art, and the new imperialism has not so
far helped us to be articulate in street decoration. The adornment of
our streets and public places usually falls into the hands of trade
contractors, and anything like freshness of idea, taste, or pleasing
fancy is distinguished rather by its absence. Our fiery patriotism
seems quite content to let our decorative crowns and gilded emblems
and wreaths be “made in Germany,” and the popular imagination is
sufficiently lifted by union jacks, supplied in “all sizes” down to
the pocket-handkerchief by the dauntless commercial instinct aforesaid.
Nothing, of course, gives colour and movement so readily as bunting,
and the very sight of a flag is exciting. But flags are dangerous
things, and private zeal in the display of flags often outruns
heraldic discretion. One sees strange treatment of the national emblem
sometimes. A people so fond of waving them ought to know its own
flags and how to hoist them one would think. I noted the other day a
remarkable treatment of the red ensign, the usual arrangement of the
union jack in dexter quarter being varied by cutting it into quarters
and placing one quarter in the usual place and the other at the extreme
lower corner of the fourth quarter of the red field, dropping the other
two out altogether. This may have been from motives of economy. I have
seen, too, the white ensign hoisted upside down! The old way of hanging
gay rugs and tapestries from the window-sills would produce a very
picturesque effect in a street, and would at all events avoid such a
“nice derangement of epitaphs” as those above mentioned.
Some streets lend themselves to decorative effects better, of course,
than others, and narrow streets are easier to decorate than wide ones.
Scale in regard to the buildings and the position of the decorations
are of the greatest importance. In our London streets very frequently
the houses differ in height and width of frontage as much as they
differ in architectural taste and period, and this increases the
difficulty of effective decoration.
A Venetian mast may be in decent scale in relation to the height of
buildings at one part of the street, or even on one side of a street,
and quite ridiculous in regard to other buildings on the same or
other side of the same street. Yet the street decorator clings to the
Venetian mast as a chief means of street decoration, even if only a
spar, with the tenacity of a shipwrecked sailor. The result, too, in
such a climate as ours often is a wreck. Those poles recently placed
in Piccadilly--one of the prettiest of our streets opposite the Park
(perhaps because one side is left out!)--look too small, and are
rather fussily garlanded, while the shields--bearing the portcullis
and the rose alternately--are miserably undersized, and not of a
fine shape. The best thing is the connecting garland with its lamps,
but these ought to be thicker in the middle. Then again, the poles
face only one way--outwards to the road, so that they do not tell
much in perspective. Something on the principle of the cross-tree or
yard-arm and hanging sign is more effective. At least in _one_ piece of
artistic decoration attempted for the coronation--I mean the scheme of
decoration for Westminster Bridge by the Royal College of Art under the
direction of Prof. Lanteri and Prof. Moira--this principle was adopted.
Boldly designed banners painted by the students hung from cross-trees
over the pavement, balanced by lanterns at the other end, while between
them busts of heroic size of our kings and queens under canopies, and
backed by stencilled hangings faced the roadway, these groups being
connected with the masts which bore the banners by hanging garlands.
[Illustration: Decoration of Westminster Bridge. By the Students of the
Royal College of Art
From a Coloured Drawing by G. E. Kruger]
The tapering rectangular column of the new art mode with the flat
trencher at the top might come in quite usefully as a substitute for
the Venetian masts in places, and the flat top could be used for plants
in pots, vases, gilt globes with victories on them, or other emblems,
or heraldic beasts, or electric lamps. A continuous light arcade
of such columns, connected by a light entablature bearing suitable
inscriptions, with hanging garlands, or bay trees in tubs between,
would be a pretty scheme for a straight, and not very wide street.
One generally feels the want of some connecting link across the
roadway, overhead, in any parallel scheme of street decoration. A
string of flags is the simplest way of doing this, and is done often
enough, but if the street is sufficiently narrow a succession of
cloths or banners hung horizontally across the street, forming a kind
of irregular valarium, would have a good effect--say alternating in
two or three colours, with bold heraldic devices, either national or
appropriate to the locality, upon their fields. Streets hung in this
way in red and white, in green and white, or blue and white would have
a pleasant effect. Striped cloths could also be used in this way.
[Illustration: Suggestion for a Temporary Gatehouse at Temple Bar
By Walter Crane]
One consistent colour scheme, say the heraldic colours of the township
(with Chinese lanterns strung across for night effect) for each street
or section of the town, with an arch or gateway to mark the entrance
to each ward or district, would be a means of obtaining unity, as well
as striking and harmonious decorative effect.
Something of this kind was in the mind of a deputation which waited on
the Lord Mayor at the time of the coronation to offer a suggestion to
the City, which would have lent itself well to such a treatment.
Starting from Temple Bar, the existing Griffin--or City dragon (which
we whispered might be temporarily removed!)--might have made way for a
fanciful Gothic gatehouse with gilded portcullis and gates, built of
timber and plaster of course, but substantial enough to support warders
and trumpeters, and a gallery of fair ladies who might shower roses or
gilded oak leaves upon the King when he passed, as our Richard II was
greeted at his coronation from the tower in Cheapside, which bore a
golden angel upon its top. St. Paul and St. George should occupy niches
on such a gateway, which should also display the banners and badges of
the City and the Temple, and the arms of the City guilds, while Gog and
Magog personified should stand at the gates.
[Illustration: TEMPORARY·STREET·DECORATION·
ROUGH·SKETCH·TO·SHOW·ARCADED·STREET·
USE·OF·HANGING·DRAPERIES·&·HERALDRY·]
Fleet Street should be arcaded by a series of simple timber supports
upholding a balcony, or tier of seats, at the height of the first-floor
windows. The timbers might be whitewashed and decorated with chevrons
or other simple patterns in black or red, but the construction not
concealed. And at regular intervals, upon piers, a bold heraldic beast
(say the dragon of St. George) might support the City banner; Pegasus
and the Lamb those of the Inner and Outer Temple to mark their
boundaries, with the Red and the White Rose. At Clifford’s Inn the Art
Workers’ Guild could hang out their badge, an’ it liked them; while St.
Dunstan, and the White and Blackfriars might appear further on.
I would drape the fronts of the houses in white and red, the St.
George’s Cross might run from end to end of Fleet Street, and on the
parapets of the houses there should be a hedge or cresting of green
boughs connected across the street at intervals by light, arching
trellises surmounted by crowns, to be illuminated at night, and covered
with green leaves and hung with the shields and badges beforenamed
(which in the able hands of Mr. Barron, of the Society of Antiquaries,
would not be the tame things to which we are too much accustomed).
Such a scheme could be a type for each ward, or, on the other hand,
each ward could be different in scheme as well as colour, but each
should have its gatehouse and its guild represented thereat.
Well, the City considered itself sufficient to itself--is it not
always self-sufficient? The Lord Mayor preferred to rely, possibly,
upon the mute inglorious Alma-Tademas and St. John Hopes and Barrons
concealed in the Guildhall Library--or shall we say, the contractors
of Houndsditch. I fancy there was a suspicion that we were only early
birds trying to get the contract, and that Lord Windsor (who headed the
deputation) was perhaps the head of a decorating company, limited!
[Illustration: BANNER OF THE CITY OF LONDON
ARMS OF WESTMINSTER
HERALDIC DRAGON SUPPORTER
TEMPORARY·STREET·DECORATION DETAILS·IN·PREVIOUS·SKETCH·IN·ELEVATION.
ENLARGED·TO·SCALE 1/2″ TO 1 FOOT.]
It is said the world knows nothing of its greatest men--perchance,
also, it never sees its best street decorations. But how can one
reasonably expect London to glow with enthusiasm over grand schemes
of street decoration which principally consist of shining decorative
lights carefully concealed under municipal or other bushels?
OF THE TREATMENT OF ANIMAL FORMS IN DECORATION AND HERALDRY
The forms of animals furnish the designer in all kinds of decorative
work, whether flat or in relief, with pleasant means of enriching and
enlivening his pattern.
Ornament may indeed reach great refinement and delicacy without the
use of living forms, as it has done in the case of Arabian and Moorish
types, and in such Persian work under Mohammedan influence as the
superb carpet from the Mosque of Ardebil; yet a lover of incident and
romance, of movement and variety--perhaps one might say a western
imagination--welcomes the forms of animals, birds, and even humans, as
delightful elements of pattern.
Originally, no doubt, like the recurring types of floral form in
Oriental, Chinese and Indian and Persian work, animal forms were
introduced with definite meaning, with symbolical and heraldic
purpose, and (despite Mr. Lewis Day) I still think that ornament gains
in dignity and character if it contains some kernel of thought or
intention or poetic fancy in its meshes, in its lines and curves, and
the forms with which its inventor plays.
Technically, by the use of animal forms contrasting masses can be
obtained in design of a kind not possible in any other way. A mass of
stems and leaves and flowers in a tapestry is pleasantly broken by the
varied shapes of figures and animals which give relief and breadth by
their larger contours and masses of colour, and this power of contrast
and mass are elements of great value. Even in a mechanically repeated
surface pattern, woven or printed, interest, dignity, and distinction
can be given by recurring elements of this kind, especially if we are
careful about their choice and, above all, their treatment.
The treatment of animal forms in design of course depends greatly upon
the conditions of the work, the material of its execution, and its
use and position. The rich colour and texture of Arras tapestry, for
instance, it is obvious would lend themselves to a much greater degree
of realism than the more abstract treatment suitable to the limitations
of inlaid work, or cloisonné enamel. In embroidery, again, the needle
has considerable freedom as regards texture and the expression of
surface, and in the case of the plumage of birds, may, as we see is
done in Chinese and Japanese silk embroidery, approach nature in the
construction and set of the feathers, and the sheen and gloss of their
colour effect.
[Illustration: Royal Mantle from the Treasury of Bamberg, Twelfth
Century (from De Farcy)]
[Illustration: Chasuble from the Cathedral of Anagni, Thirteenth
Century (from De Farcy)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
Even in the extremely abstract treatment necessitated by the exigencies
of incised hieroglyphics we can hardly find finer examples
of treatment, so direct and unerring is the characterization, than
the birds and animals of the ancient Egyptians. The same power of
characterization, though with a freer hand, is also seen in their mural
paintings.
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Sicilian Silk Pattern. Fourteenth Century (Fischbach)]
[Illustration: Embroidered Tabard, Sixteenth Century, in the
Archaeological Museum at Ghent (from De Farcy)]
The early Greek potters ran them close in designing the black
silhouettes of animals forming borders around their vessels and
vases; but we find here at work a conscious ornamental feeling in the
treatment of their forms--an apparently intentional arrangement of
the lines of the animal into more or less formal curves. A running
antelope, for instance, will take a sort of volute curve, and in one
case the volute itself is drawn beneath. The forms of these animals and
birds of the vase paintings were no doubt influenced by the brush, and
many of them might be described as _brush forms_. The bodies of the
birds and fish are oval or ovoid masses, and in their repetition, by
means of such ornamental generalization, a certain balance and rhythm
is obtained.
[Illustration: Detail from Embroidered Tabard, Sixteenth Century]
Indeed, there is no better method of insuring ornamental effect when
introducing animal forms than the practice of designing them within
certain definite boundaries, which may be geometric, such as squares,
circles, and ovals, according to the contours of the masses required in
the particular design.
The Japanese give in one of their drawing-books some clear adaptations
of birds and animals enclosed in circles, and they are very ingenious
pieces of packing.
[Illustration: Detail from Embroidered Tabard, Sixteenth Century]
[Illustration: Detail from Embroidered Tabard, Sixteenth Century]
The early weavers of the Egypto-Roman textiles of Alexandria and of
Byzantium, and of the renowned Sicilian silks from the twelfth to
the fourteenth centuries, and those of Lucca of the fourteenth, all
revelled in animal forms, and were adepts in their treatment. In the
latter cases they were used symbolically and heraldically, and, indeed,
with the development of heraldry in the middle ages under feudalism,
such elements became the principal elements in decoration of all kinds,
so much so that it might be almost said that heraldry was _the_
ornament and decoration of the mediaeval times.
[Illustration: ANIMAL FORMS IN DECORATION & HERALDRY. The Robe of
RICHARD IInd, from the picture at Wilton House]
Our Richard II, it will be remembered, in the famous Wilton picture,
is kneeling in a robe of golden tissue woven with the badges of his
house--the hart couchant and the phœnix--repeated all over as in a sort
of diaper, and there are abundant instances among our brasses, stall
plates, and effigies, of the splendid treatment of heraldry in the
arms, as well as the dresses of knights and ladies bearing their family
totems thick upon them.
[Illustration: Exercise in Heraldic treatment & spacing.
The Lions of England designed by Walter Crane.]
Boldness, spirit, distinctness of colour and form, and characterization
governed by ornamental colour and effect, seem to be the chief
principles in designing heraldic animals.
[Illustration: Heraldic Lion designed by Walter Crane]
They not only have to be depicted, but _displayed_. Therefore every
distinctive and important attribute or characteristic is emphasized.
The lion’s mane and tail become foliated, and his legs are fringed
and tasselled. His claws are spread wide--cleared for action; his mouth
is well open, and his long red, curly tongue rollicks out between his
emphatic teeth. A lion out of a cage in the Zoological Gardens would be
no manner of use on a coat, or as a crest or a supporter. The endeavour
of later times to make the heraldic lion a more reasonable being
has only tamed and degraded him. He looks round-headed, muzzy, and
spiritless.
[Illustration: The Lions (or Leopards) of England, from the Tomb of
William de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, Westminster Abbey. 1296.]
[Illustration: From the Tomb of Edmund Crouchback, Earl of Lancaster.
1296. Westminster Abbey.]
Much the same principles apply to the treatment of the other “fearful
wild fowl” of heraldry, as well as the necessity for very careful
decorative spacing. I will only recall, in this connection, the spacing
of the English leopards in the fourth quarter of the royal arms on a
shield of thirteenth century shape as offering good field to a designer
from the exercise of ingenuity in space filling.
OF THE DESIGNING OF BOOK-COVERS
The book-cover, as a field for surface design, appears at first sight
to offer in its many varieties a less restricted field for invention
than perhaps any portable object of common use which demands the
attention of a decorator.
Yet in no field of design are certain qualities more essential to
success--qualities, too, outside the particular conditions of the
various methods, and processes used in the production of book-covers.
These are, in chief, tastefulness and sense of scale and proportion,
important enough it will be said in all design, but narrowed down to
the limited field of the book-cover, and in full view of its object and
purpose, they become all-important.
Limited, for instance, to the narrowest demands of utility--an
inscription or title on side or back needful to distinguish the outside
of one book from another, questions of choice of scale, of lettering in
relation to the size and proportion of the cover, of the choice of the
form of the lettering and the spacing of the letters upon the cover
immediately arise.
Now the side of a book-cover presents a flat surface within rectangular
limits, varying in size according to the folding of the sheet of paper
which determines the size of the book to be covered--folio, quarto,
octavo, and so on.