THE GOBELINS FACTORY, 1662
Colbert saw the wisdom of taking direction for the king, Louis XIV, of
the looms of Foucquet's chateau. Travel being difficult enough to make
desirable the concentration of points of interest, Colbert transferred
the looms of Vaux to Paris. To do this he had first to find a habitat,
and what so suitable as the Hotel des Gobelins, a collection of
buildings on the edge of Paris by which ran a little brook called the
Bievre. The Sieur Leleu was then the owner, and the sale of the
buildings was made on June 6, 1662.
This was the beginning only of the purchase, for Louis XIV added
adjoining houses for the various uses of the large industries he had
in mind, for the development of arts and crafts of all sorts, and for
the lodging of the workers.
The story of the original occupants of the premises is almost too well
known to recount. The simple tale of the conscientious "dyers in
scarlet" is told on the marble plaque at the present entry into the
collection of buildings still standing, still open to visitors. It is
a tale with a moral, an obvious simple moral with no need of Alice's
Duchess to point it out, and it smacks strong of the honesty of a
labour to which we owe so much.
Late in the Fifteenth Century the brothers Gobelin came to the city
of Paris to follow their trade, which was dyeing, and their ambition,
which was to produce a scarlet dye like that they had seen flaunting
in the glowing city of Venice. The trick of the trade in those days
was to find a water of such quality that dyes took to it kindly. The
tiny river, or rather brook, called the Bievre, which ran softly down
towards the Seine had the required qualities, and by its murmuring
descent, Jean and Philibert pitched the tents of their fortune.
They succeeded, too, so well that we hear of their descendants in
later centuries as having become gentlemen, not of property only, but
of cultivation, and far removed from trades or bartering. Their name
is ever famous, for it tells not only the story of the two original
dyers, but of their subsequent efforts in weaving, and finally it has
come to mean the finest modern product of the hand loom. Just as Arras
gave the name to tapestry in the Fourteenth Century, so the Gobelins
has given it to the time of Louis XIV, even down to our own day--more
especially in Europe, where the word tapestry is far less used than
here.
The tablet now at the Gobelins--let us re-read it, for in some hasty
visit to the Latin Quarter we may have overlooked it. Translated
freely it reads, "Jean and Philibert Gobelin, merchant dyers in
scarlet, who have left their name to this quarter of Paris and to the
manufacture of tapestries, had here their atelier, on the banks of the
Bievre, at the end of the Fifteenth Century."
Another inscription takes a great leap in time, skips over the
centuries when France was not in the lead in this art, and
recommences with the awakening strength under the wise care of Henri
IV. It reads:
"April 1601. Marc Comans and Francois de la Planche, Flemish tapestry
weavers, installed their ateliers on the banks of the Bievre."
"September 1667, Colbert established in the buildings of the Gobelins
the manufacture of the furniture (_meubles_) of the Crown, under the
direction of Charles Lebrun."
The tablet omits the date that is fixed in our mind as that of the
beginning of the modern tapestry industry in France, the year 1662,
but that is only because it deals with a date of more general
importance, the time when the Gobelins was made a manufactory of all
sorts of gracious products for the luxury of palaces and chateaux, not
tapestries alone, but superb furniture, and metal work, inlay,
mounting of porcelains and all that goes to furnish the home of
fortunate men.
In that year of 1667 was instituted the ateliers supported by the
state, not dependent upon the commercialism of the workers. This made
possible the development of such men as Boulle with his superb
furniture, of Riesner with his marquetry, of Caffieri with his marvels
in metal to decorate all _meubles_, even vases, which were then coming
from China in their beauty of solid glaze or eccentric ornament.
Here lies the great secret of the success of Louis XIV in these
matters, with the coffers of the Crown he rewarded the artists above
the necessity of mere living, and freed each one for the best
expression of his own especial art. The day of individual financial
venture was gone. The tapestry masters of other times had both to work
and to worry. They had to be artists and at the same time commercial
men, a chimerical combination.
The expense of maintaining a tapestry factory was an incalculable
burden. A man could not set up a loom, a single one, as an artist sets
up an easel, and in solitude produce his woven work of art. Other
matters go to the making of a tapestry than weaving, matters which
have to do with cartoons for the design, dyes, wools, threads, etc.;
so that many hands must be employed, and these must all be paid. The
apprentice system helped much, but even so, the master of the atelier
was responsible for his finances and must look for a market for his
goods.
What a relief it was when the king took all this responsibility from
the shoulders and said to the artists and artisans, "Art for Art's
sake," or whatever was the equivalent shibboleth of that day. Here was
comfort assured for the worker, with a housing in the Gobelins, or in
that big asylum, the Louvre, where an apartment was the reward of
virtue. And now was a market assured for a man's work, a royal market,
with the king as its chief, and his favourites following close.
The ateliers scattered about Paris were allied in spirit, were all the
result of the encouragement of preceding monarchs, but it remained for
Le Grand Monarque to gather all together and form a state solidarity.
Kings must have credit, even though others do the work. It was the
labour of the able Colbert to organise this factory. He was in favour
then. It was after his acuteness had helped in deposing the splendid
brigand Foucquet, and his power was serving France well, so well that
he brought about his head the inevitable jealousy which finally threw
him, too, into unmerited disgrace.
Colbert, then, although a Minister of State, head of the Army of
France, and a few other things, had the fate of the Gobelins in his
hand. As the ablest is he who chooses best his aids, Colbert looked
among his countrymen for the proper director of the newly-organised
institution. He selected Charles Lebrun.
The very name seems enough, in itself. It is the concrete expression
of ability, not only as an artist, but as a leader of artists, a
director, an assembler, a blender. He called to the Gobelins, as
addition to those already there, the apprentices from La Trinite, the
weavers from the Faubourg St. Germain, and from the Louvre. He
established three ateliers of high-warp under Jean Jans, Jean Lefebvre
and Henri Laurent; also two ateliers of low-warp under Jean Delacroix
and Jean-Baptiste Mozin. When charged with the decoration of
Versailles he had under his direction fifty artists of differing
scopes, which alone would show his power of assembling and leading, of
blending and ordering. Workers at the Gobelins numbered as many as two
hundred fifty, and apprentices were legion.
Ten or twelve important artists composed the designs for tapestries,
yet the mind of Lebrun is seen to dominate all; his genius was their
inspiration. It was he whose influence pervaded the decorative art of
the day. More than any others in that grand age he influenced the
tone of the artistic work. We may say it was the king, we may have
styles named for the king, but it was Lebrun who made them what they
were. The spirit of the time was there, monarch and man made that, but
it was Lebrun who had the talent to express it in art. It was a time
when France was fully awake, more fully awake than Italy who had, in
fact, commenced the somnolence of her art; she was strong with that
brutal force that is recently up from savagery, and she took her
grandeur seriously.
At least that was the attitude of the king. No lightness, no
effervescing cynical humour ever disturbed the heavy splendour of his
pose. And this grand pose of the king, Lebrun expressed in the heavy
sumptuousness of decoration. The tapestries of that time show the mood
of the day in subject, in border and in colour. All is superb,
grandiose.
Rubens, although not of France, dominated Europe with his magnificence
of style, a style suited to the time, expressing force rather than
refinement, yet with a splendid decorative value in the art we are
considering. Flanders looked to him for inspiration, and his lead was
everywhere followed. His virile work had power to inspire, to transmit
enthusiasm to others, and thus he was responsible for much of the
improvement in decorative art, the re-establishment of that art upon
an intellectual basis. Designs from his hands were full, splendid and
self-assertive; harmony and proportion were there. A study of the
_Antony and Cleopatra_ series and of the plates given in this volume
will establish and verify this.
[Illustration: DESIGN BY RUBENS]
[Illustration: DESIGN BY RUBENS]
Lebrun's century was the same as that of Rubens, but the former had
the fine feeling for art of the Latin, who knows that its first
province is to please. A comparison between the two men must not be
carried too far, for Rubens was essentially a painter, attacking the
field of decoration only with the overflow of imagination, while
Lebrun's life and talent were wholly directed in the way of
beautifying palaces and chateaux. Yet Rubens' work gave a fresh
impulse to tapestry weaving in Brussels while Lebrun was inspiring it
in France.
Lebrun had, then, to direct the talent and the labour of an army of
artists and artisans, and to keep them working in harmony. It was no
mean task, for one artist alone was not left to compose an entire
picture, but each was taken for his specialty. One artist drew the
figures, another the animals, another the trees, and another the
architecture; but it was the director, Lebrun, who composed and
harmonised the whole. Thus, although the number of tapestries actually
composed by him is few, it was his great mind that ordered the work of
others. He was the leader of the orchestra, the others were the
instruments he controlled.
It was while at Vaux that Lebrun had more time for his own
composition. He there produced a series called _Les Renommes_,
masterpieces of pure decorative composition. These were designed as
portieres for the Chateau of Maincy. They came to be models for the
Gobelins, and were woven to hang at royal doors, the doors of Foucquet
being at this time dressed with iron bars.
The Gobelins wove seventy-two sets after this beautiful model which
had made Lebrun's debut as an artist. Foucquet had given him a more
pretentious work; it was to complete a suite, the _History of
Constantine_, after Raphael. Rubens had given a fresh flush of
popularity to this subject, which again became the mode. The _History
of Meleager_ was begun at Vaux and finished at the Gobelins. Later,
Vaux forgotten, or at least a thing of the past, Lebrun's decorative
genius found expression in the series called _The Months_ or _The
Royal Residences_, of which there were twelve hangings.
In these last the scheme is the perfection of decoration, with the
subject well subdued, yet so subtly placed that notwithstanding its
modesty, the eye promptly seeks it. The castle in the distance, the
motive holding aloft the sign of the Zodiac, are seen even before the
splendid columns and the foliage of the middle-ground.
Such a hanging has power to play pretty tricks with the imagination of
him who gazes upon it. The columns, smooth and solid, declare him at
once to be in a place of luxury. Beyond the foreground's columns, but
near enough for touching, are trees to make a pleasant shade, and
beyond, in the far distance, is the chateau set in fair gardens, even
the chateau where the lovely Louise de la Valliere held her court
until conscience drove her to the convent.
The set of most renown, woven under Lebrun's generalship, was that
splendid advertisement of the king's magnificence known as the
_History of the King_. Louis demanded above all else that he should
appear splendidly before men. He was jealous of the magnificence of
all kings and emperors, whether living or dead. Even Solomon's
glory was not to typify greater than his. With this end in view, pomp
was his pleasure, ceremony was his gratification. Add to these an
insatiable vanity that knows not the disintegrating assaults of a
sense of humour, and we have a man to be fed on profound adulation.
[Illustration: DESIGN BY RUBENS]
[Illustration: GOBELINS TAPESTRY. DESIGN BY RUBENS
Royal Collection, Madrid]
The subjects for the _History of the King_ were chosen from official
solemnities during the first twelve years of his reign. Lebrun's task,
into which he threw his whole soul, was to celebrate the power and the
glory of his master, to show the king in perpetual picture as the
greatest living personage, and to still his fears with regard to long
defunct royal rivals. His life as a man was pictured, his marriage,
his treaties with other nations, and his actions as a soldier in the
various battles or military conquests. In the latter affairs he had
not even been present, but poet's license was given where the
glorification of the king was concerned. The flattery that surrounds a
king thus gave him reason to think that his persecutions in the
Palatinate and his constant warfare were greatly to his glory.
It is the tapestry in this set that is called _Visit of Louis XIV to
the Gobelins_ that interests us strongly, as being delightfully
pertinent to our subject. The picture shows the king in chary
indulgence standing just within the court of the Royal Factory, while
eager masters of arts and crafts strenuously heap before him their
masterpieces. (Plate facing page 114.)
The borders of these sumptuous hangings are to be enjoyed when the
original set can be seen, for the borders are Lebrun's special care.
The three pieces added late in the reign are drawn with different
borders, and no stronger example of deteriorating change can be given,
the change in the composition of the border which took place after the
passing of Lebrun. The pieces in the set of the _Life of the King_
numbered forty; with the addition of the later ones, forty-three. They
were repeated many times in the succeeding years, but on low-warp,
reduced in size, and without the superb decorative border which was
composed by Lebrun's own hand for the original series.
Francois de la Meulen was Lebrun's able coadjutor in the direction of
this famous set. Eight artists accustomed to the work were charged
with the cartoons, but Lebrun headed it all. It is interesting to note
that the temptation to sport in the fields of pure decoration, led him
into the personal composition of the border. These borders are the
very acme of perfection in decoration, full of strength, of grace, and
of purity. They suggest the classic, yet are full of the warm blood of
the hour; they are Greek, yet they are French, and they foreshadow the
centuries of beautiful design which France supplies to the world.
The colouring of these tapestries seems to us strong, but it is not a
strength of tone that offends, rather it adds force to the subject. The
charge is made that in this suite the deplorable change had taken place
which lifted tapestries from their original intent and made of them
paintings in wool. That change certainly did come later, as we shall
see and deplore, but at present the colours kept comparatively low
in number. The proof of this was that only seventy-nine tones were
discoverable when the Gobelins factory in recent years examined this
hanging for the purposes of reproducing it.
[Illustration: LOUIS XIV VISITING THE GOBELINS FACTORY
Gobelins Tapestry, Epoch Louis XIV]
Lebrun's task in this series seems to us far more simple in point of
picturesqueness than it did to him, for the affairs of the time were
those depicted. They were the events of the moment, and the personages
taking part in them were given in recognisable portraiture. Figure a
tapestry of to-day depicting the laying of a cornerstone by our
National President, every one in modern dress, every face a portrait,
and Lebrun's task appears in a new light. Yet he was able to
accomplish it in a way which gratified the overfed vanity of Louis and
which more than gratifies the art lover of to-day.
The set called the _History of Alexander_ is one of Lebrun's famous
works. In subject it departs from the affairs of the time of the Sun
King, to portray the Greek Conqueror, to whom Louis liked to be
compared. For us the classic dress is less piquant than the gorgeous
toilettes of France in the Seventeenth Century, and the battle of the
Granicus is less engaging than scenes from the life of Louis XIV. But
this is a famous set, and paintings of the same may be found in the
Louvre.
Originally the tapestries were but five, but the larger ones having
been divided into three each, the number is increased. The Gobelins
factory wove several sets, and, the model becoming popular, it was
copied many times in Brussels and elsewhere, often with distressing
alterations in drawing, in border, and in colour.
There were other suites produced at the Gobelins at this wonderful
time of co-operation between Colbert, the minister, and Lebrun, the
artist. Colbert, in his wisdom of state economy, had repaired the
ravages of the previous ministry, and had the coffers full for the
government's necessities and the king's indulgences. Well for the
liberal arts, that he counted these among the matters to be fostered
in this wonderful time, which rises like a mountain ridge between
feudal savagery and modern civilisation.
But Colbert, powerful as was his position, had yet to suffer by reason
of the despotism of the absolute monarch who ruled every one within
borders of bleeding France. Louis began, before youth had left him,
the terrible persecution of the people in the name of religion, and
established also an indulgent left-hand court. The prodigious
expenditures for these were bound to be liquidated by Colbert.
Faithful to his master, he produced the money.
The charm of royalty surrounded Louis, he was idealised by a people
proud of his position as the most magnificent monarch of Europe; but
Colbert was denounced as a tax collector and a persecutor, yet
suffered in silence, if he might protect his king. Before he died,
Louvois had undermined his credit even with the king, and his funeral
at night, to avoid a mob, was a pathetic fact. France has now
reinstated him, say modern men--but that is the irony of fate.