The general painted decoration, as carried out for the architect by
Mr. Garnsey, is always loyal to the architecture, and yet asserts
the essential and peculiar value of color. First and foremost the
constructional value of color is fully realized. In the central
Reading Room, for instance, not only have the white walls and stucco
been brought into color harmony with the rich red and yellow of the
Numidian and Sienna marbles, but the tints have been so distributed
and their strength graduated in relation to the spaces they cover,
that a strictly structural fabric of color has been constructed
in and around the architectural edifice. The grand suite of rooms
running round the entire second story is a charming example of color
sequence. The keynote is yellow, the most joyous of all colors--the
hue of sunshine. The note is struck positively in the four pavilions,
where the yellow has been carried as far as possible in the two
directions of red or blue. These positive colors are connected by
the tertiary tints in the intervening rooms, where the walls are
dull yellow or olive, relieved by red and green in the frieze. In
the room on the north side the painter has suffused the olive-green
with a neutralized bloom of the complementary violet, thus securing a
harmony of opposition as well as of similarity. In the central room
on the east side, the scheme for a brief space swings to blue, with
yellow in the frieze, and the more important rooms on the west side
echo some of the brilliancy of the adjacent stair-hall. To name but
one other phase of this work in which the decorator has worked so
well for the architect, the emotional value of color or its quality
of expression is exhibited in numerous instances. Above the high
oak wainscot of the Librarian’s Room, the panels are a deep blue,
enamelled with subdued arabesques. Age seems to have dimmed them.
There is a patina of green rust upon the ivory ceiling, the tender
touch of time upon the owls and lamps, that hints at the antiquity
of thought. Compare with this the robustness of the design of the
ceiling in the Pavilion of the Seals. The first impression is of a
turbulence of gorgeous clouds veiled in a golden haze. Gradually the
details of form and color grow, and we discover an elaborate harmony
in which the great Seal of the United States and the American flag,
are predominating features.
Of the special paintings which complete and accentuate this great
general scheme of architecture, Mr. Blashfield’s occupy the most
important position.[13] The problem was a conflicting one. The
space demanded a noble theme and stately treatment, conforming to
the monumental majesty of the structure, and yet responding to
the tenderness and airiness of the cobweb of arabesque. It was
necessary to continue and also to conclude the converging ribs; to
solidify and also to disperse them; to create a design subordinate
to the architecture and yet completing it and dominating it. His
treatment is geometrical. Four figures crown the axial spaces,
conspicuously white, full fronted, self-contained, emphasizing the
spaciousness and symmetry of the structure, and symbolizing the four
basic constituents of civilization. Each of these is supported by a
figure to the right and left, which are so subtly posed that they
prolong the converging lines of the ribs of the dome. While the eye
is thus continually carried up, it is diverted horizontally by the
interlacing lines of the limbs, the necklace of recurring banderoles
and cartouches, and finally by the majestic sweep of wings, the
sculpturesque simplicity of which merges the painting into the
architecture above. To this wreath of form the artist has imparted
a suffused bloom, tenderly iridescent; giving quiet distinction to
each figure and a satisfying harmony to the whole composition. His
intellectuality reveals itself, not only in the technical solution
of his problem, but also in the depth and comprehensiveness with
which he has interpreted his theme. It matters not which figures
one selects; all are beautiful and richly suggestive. Compare the
representation of Religion and of Philosophy; the yearning of the one
for outside strength and light with the calm, passionless scrutiny
of the other; or the dreamy transcendentalism of _Islam_, and his
rounded limbs, with the square strenuous determination of the young
giant, _America_. This composition, however, is not a circle, the
recognized geometrical symbol of eternal completeness, but a concave
ring whose lines converge toward a centre outside of and above
itself. That centre is the figure in the Lantern, representing that
Higher Wisdom to which the wisest are always striving to attain. This
concave ring represents Civilization, which, kept in perfect balance
by the harmony of the various elements of human life, spins easily
and surely upon its axis. This is the greatest good of all; but it is
impossible to maintain Civilization without Progress; it must forever
speed upward to the Higher Wisdom.
Mr. Pearce’s panels in the north corridor are notable examples of
decorative color. The positive tints are clear and fresh against
soft backgrounds of secondary greens and violets. The composition,
except in the panel of _The Standard-Bearers_, leans to the pictorial
rather than to the decorative method. Perhaps _Labor_ and _Religion_
combine the two methods most happily. In the former the lines of the
limbs repeat and relieve each other most agreeably. There is enough
sameness of movement to emphasize the sharing of toil, sufficient
difference to suggest individual effort. There is a suggestive
contrast in _Religion_ between the man’s awe and the woman’s placid
confidence. He recognizes the mystery, she the comfort of fire. A
germ of the love of the beautiful is shown in the choice for an altar
of the curious stone which they have propped up so unstably, and yet
with so much affectionate care.
In the east corridor, Mr. Alexander’s six panels are to be taken as
so many fragments cut from the picture of the ages. They are terse
and vigorous; they compel our interest. The figures are dramatic,
in the true sense that they are doing something simple and natural,
while their local surroundings, like the old chorus, interpret the
significance--in some cases, from the standpoint of to-day, the
insignificance--of the act. For, by the exercise of keen imagination,
and through the resources of his technique, the artist has rendered
with pathetic vividness the dumbness and isolation of early man and
the unresponsiveness of his surroundings. With the skill of an expert
dramatist, he has developed the growing permanence of the record, and
the widening of the circle of influence, and led up to the climax
when the written speech of one becomes the property of all.
In Mr. Walker’s panels, Nature and not Humanity is the inspiration.
In his largest panel, she is exhibited in the unrestraint of stream
and rock and verdure. Yet she is represented in Mr. Walker’s
paintings not so much for her own sake as for the inspiration which
she lends to the mind of the poet. It is Nature viewed through the
medium of the imagination--Nature refined by the alchemy of human
emotion.
In the opposite panel, man’s relation to Nature is introduced; in
a suggestion of the old idyllic, pastoral life, with a hint, too,
on one side of the panel, of man’s creative genius, the stately
edifice into which, working upon Nature’s plan, he has built his
own personality. The scheme is completed by the smaller panels in
which the artist has suggested the various moods of lyric poetry, as
illustrated by the special genius of Shakespeare, Milton, Tennyson,
Emerson, Keats, and Wordsworth.
Mr. Vedder, in his _Government_ series, has played upon a simple
scale of low-toned reds, blues, greens, and yellows, thus responding
in his work to the mosaic and marble which surround it. Each
composition has a separate geometrical motive, built up by the
distribution of the colors, the balance or contrast of light and
dark, the flow of the lines, and, not least, by the arrangement of
the spaces. The central panel succeeds completely in its twofold
purpose of giving dignity and height to the entrance, and of
expressing the solidity and elevation of Government. The use of line
is throughout remarkable. In the panels of _Good Administration_
and _Peace and Prosperity_ the lines of direction are downward from
the zenith. In the former, these lines fall in tenderly embracing
curves; in the latter they widen out and form that strongest of all
structures, a broad-based pyramid. In _Corrupt Legislation_, the
eye is first arrested by the tilted leg and slovenly slipper, and
follows down to the money-bag. We know it all: the shamelessness,
shiftlessness, and corruption. It is a compression of multiplied
experience into one illuminating flash. The direction of the picture
is diagonal, and the masses of form and color purposely accentuate
its lop-sidedness. Yet the picture seems evenly balanced, for the
simplicity and distinctness of the standing figure attracts one’s
eye from the intentional confusion of the opposite side. In the
spaces one will notice the harsh gashes made by the chimneys, and
the unpleasant parallelism of the smoke wreaths, so suggestive of
the dead monotony of sordid lives. The triumph of ordered disorder
is reached in the panel of _Anarchy_, which is based on a reversal
of geometric methods. The masses of dark and light tumble diagonally
across the picture towards the desolate space with the broken wheel.
The spaces at the top are shattered and splintered as if by an
explosion. But most remarkable is the jagged space near the centre.
It is as if a shot had ploughed its way through the chaos and allowed
a glimpse of the void beyond.
Mr. Vedder’s _Minerva_ recognizes at once the strong points and the
limitations of mosaic. The design itself is a mosaic in which the
full and empty spaces, and the light and darker portions, and the
embroidery of lines, together form a rich brocade. Sumptuousness is
added by contrasting the smooth outlines of the one side with the
intricate elaboration of the other. It is very interesting to note
how the spear ties together the lighter portions, and prevents the
strong figure from being too sharply silhouetted.
Around the statuesque simplicity of Mr. Shirlaw’s _Sciences_
flows a sinuous play of lines, and their broad masses of color
reflect the surrounding tints, so that these panels are more than
punctuations; they are at once the focus-points and distributing
centres of the whole corridor. There is a geometrical plan apparent
in the building-up of the figures. Often the main lines intersect
diagonally, and one is tranquil, the other energetic; there are
centres of repose and of movement to which these lines converge;
and these are also the points of main interest in the symbolism of
the picture. In _Mathematics_, for instance, the line of the nude
position, suggesting the naked accuracy of figures, leads up to the
calm, frank face; while the more intricate line of the drapery winds
across diagonally, and merges in the convolutions of the scroll,
with its hint of abstruse calculations. The arrangement of the
draperies, indeed, is invariably worthy of close attention. Compare
the stem-like lines and petal-shaped folds which cling to the form of
_Botany_, with the successive eddies that circle round _Astronomy_.
In Mr. Reid’s panels the sensitive vibration of color and the
luxurious lines eloquently express the delight of the Senses. But
there is no note of decadence. There is so much decision in the
drawing, free expansion in the masses of form and color, and such
energy in the flashing color of the drapery, that we feel in these
beautiful women, not the enervation of pampered senses, but merely
a moment’s pleased suspension of activity. This is least noticeable
in the elegant deliberation of _Taste_; it is finished to a delicate
point in the exquisite conception of _Touch_. This is a picture of
an instant of arrested energy, shown in the forward lean of the
body, and the momentary stillness of the outstretched arm on which
the butterfly has alighted. In a moment the insect will be gone, the
limbs will relax and vibrate again with active life. Throughout, it
is enjoyment of the senses, not abandonment to them, that the artist
has depicted.
What may be called the debonair quality of Mr. Barse’s figures is
very noticeable. It is due not only to the purity of type, and to
the tenderness and simplicity of the coloring, laid on so flatly in
two or at most three tones; but mainly to the sensitive elaboration
of line. The figures are of ample proportion, and the draperies
voluminous, but the artist’s appreciation of the value of line in
mural decoration does not stop with the broad effects. He weaves into
his draperies a diaper of delicate folds, each of which counts. In
this way, by contrasting the smooth portions with the comparative
intricacy of others, he gives to his figures, notwithstanding their
simplicity, a certain richness, a quiet assertiveness, and a most
agreeable refinement.
The striking contrast of dark and light in Mr. Benson’s panels gives
them decorative distinction; a nearer view reveals the emotional
tenderness of detail. The white figures, graciously delicate in
drawing and color, are silhouetted against a dark background,
brocaded with a bold design, and lustrous with interpenetrating
tints. The originality of conception in the four _Seasons_ is
interesting. They are the four seasons of human feeling: the
Springtime of anticipation; the Summer of possession; the Autumn, not
of harvest, but of waning joyousness; the Winter of accepted loss.
Yet hope and youth remain, and the beauty deepened by experience in
the last face is an earnest of still another spring and summer, which
shall be fuller, richer, and more precious.
Mr. Cox’s paintings in the Southwest Gallery exhibit a strong sense
of responsibility to the aims and limits of mural decoration. The
method he has adopted is to carry the surrounding architecture up
into his pictures and melt it into a canopy of sky. Before this he
has suspended, in the case of _Science_, a delicate arabesque, as
it were, of line and color accentuated by three important masses.
Everything that could interfere with the flatness of his decoration
has been rigidly eliminated. It is _to_ the wall and not beyond it
that he would direct our attention. The architectural features are
only faintly depicted, and the foliage breaks up the background
without introducing another plane. But it is in the figures that
the artist’s mastery over his restrictions is most complete. With
practically no recourse to light and shade, but relying solely on
drawing and the handling of a few tones, he has given form and
substance to his figures. The work throughout reveals clearness of
purpose and certainty of accomplishment.
The decorations by Mr. Maynard, in the Pavilion of the Discoverers,
strike a distinctly independent note. The starting-point of the
scheme is the honor-roll of illustrious men toward whom the central
composition stands as a sort of coat-of-arms, symbolically expressing
the principle which links the names into a common family. The
treatment, in fact, is heraldic, and subtly suggests the mediæval
chivalry out of which the various movements grew. This formal
character is assisted by the symmetrical distribution of the colors.
Virility of mind and method characterizes every detail of the
compositions. Compare, for instance, the panels of _Discovery_ and
_Adventure_. Energy, assertion, and full-blooded life characterize
all the figures. The aims and animating impulse which especially
distinguish the Discoverer are expressed in the eager, generous
movement of one of the flanking figures, and in the strong calm and
steadfastness of the other, shown, for example, in the self-restraint
of the sword-arm. In _Adventure_, on the other hand, the roystering
abandon of the figures, the easy carriage of the sword, epitomize the
Adventurer’s sordid purpose and unscrupulous methods.
Mr. Maynard’s figures in the Staircase Hall (the _Virtues_) are
dignified and elegant. Though they are so many vivid interludes
to the repose of the architecture, and are instinct with buoyant
vitality, yet, by their coloring, sensitive refinement, and noble
proportions, they echo the surrounding marble.
Mr. R. L. Dodge has adopted a similar composition to Mr. Maynard’s in
the Southeast Pavilion, in his designs symbolizing the four natural
elements. The color schemes are in a light key. The backgrounds, to
which the panels are most indebted for their decorative value, have
a considerable poetic quality. Their intention is clear, and its
expression agreeably fanciful. The names in the tablet below have an
interesting significance, recording the Greek personification of the
characteristics of the elements. The majesty of ocean, for instance,
was embodied in Poseidon; Proteus personified its quality of assuming
any shape; Galatea, its surpassing beauty.
In the next pavilion--the Pavilion of the Seals--Mr. Van Ingen has
attacked his problem from the standpoint of color. The treatment of
the subject is formal, for which, however, the artist has abundant
warrant in tradition. The soul is infused into it by color. In
the density and richness of the tones, the sumptuous texture of
the surfaces, he has embodied the abstract idea of the solidity,
grandeur, and delicate complexity of well-ordered government.
The color schemes vary. In _Post-Office_ and _Justice_, there
is a diffusion of motive. Rose and violet penetrate the panel,
playing with each other and affecting the other colors with subtle
variations. In _Treasury_, however, the blue-green impression, which
swims over the whole, is brought into a depth of tone in the woman’s
dress; while in _War_ there is a crispness of color throughout in
quick accord with the alertness of the figure and the flash of her
robes. These panels are essentially a painter’s vision, expressed
through a painter’s special medium.
Mr. W. L. Dodge, in the Pavilion of Art and Science, has grappled
with his problem in a big way; exhibiting an eager acceptance
of difficulty, and a resolute choice of intricate interest. For
instance, he has arranged the light to fall upon his figures at short
range, so that, instead of a simple scheme of light and shade, there
is a multiplicity of unexpected effects. This purpose has expanded
under the influence of the various subjects. The panels of _Art_ and
_Music_ are crowded with sensations. We feel that here the painter is
consciously and unconsciously reproducing the sensations of his Art
life. In _Literature_, however, he has emerged into a more impersonal
atmosphere. In _Science_ the reproduction of sensations even more
clearly yields to the creation of thought. Lastly, the ceiling is
the climax of this growing artistic and intellectual effort. Here
the problem is at its biggest, and the technical solution most
successful. It is not by this or that accident of professional
attainment that Mr. Dodge wins us here. It is because we feel that
here the technique finally becomes the handmaid of real creative
faculty.
In Mr. Melchers’s _War_ and _Peace_, it is not beauty, in the popular
acceptation of the term, that attracts us. Our interest is seized
by their masterful character, held by their strong technique, and
confirmed by their deep human significance. The brush-work is simple
and sure, applied with breadth and in few tones, imitating the manner
of frescoes in the old manner, painted rapidly while the plaster was
still damp. Everything counts, and the artist’s thought is brought
close to us. The composition varies with the subjects. In _Peace_,
Mr. Melchers has relied on smooth masses balanced athwart a pleasing
leafy background. Movement is suspended. _War_, however, shows the
vigorous construction of moving forms: solid masses and a tangle of
gnarled limbs displayed naked against a harsh landscape. We have
muscular and mental tension. We see only the horror and hideousness
of war, and none of its pomp and circumstance. Laurel, indeed,
crowns the leader’s head, but his son is stretched a corpse upon the
rude bier. One man blows a trumpet, but none of the dogged faces
kindles. Only the hounds show eagerness, and they are straining at
the leash to get home. The religious procession is in its way just as
strong. It is entirely unsentimental. These simple folk are entering
naturally into what is merely a part of their life and thought.
A great deal of the charm of Mr. McEwen’s panels is due to the
landscapes, which are instinct with poetical imagination. The artist
has given them an atmosphere which sets them back in the past,
when the world was in its youth and full of promise rather than
fulfilment. In the episodes selected, it is not the heyday of heroic
achievement that he has commemorated, but the first impulses, such
as those of Jason and Paris, or the reverses and inadequate results
of human effort as illustrated in the other heroes. Stripped of its
glamor, this is perhaps the true story of heroism in all ages.
Mr. Gutherz in his seven panels on the ceiling of the House Reading
Room, has symbolized Light in its physical and metaphysical aspects.
The starting-point of the scheme is the central panel--“Let there
be light”--and the others follow in prismatic sequence. He has not
painted the clearness of light, but its subtle play upon various
surfaces. For example, from the central figure, “whose face no man
hath seen and lived,” radiates a pale saffron glow, struggling
through the formless void of primeval chaos, and piercing it with
stars and splinters of light. In the next panel of _Progress_ light
is burnishing the dry atmosphere of an eastern sky; while in that of
_Research_ it acts and re-acts upon the particles of deep water, and
spends itself in a soft suffused luminousness.
Mr. Dielman has adopted in his _History_ an almost sculptural
design; in _Law_ rather a pictorial. In the latter the group on
the spectator’s right is an especially attractive portion of the
composition. In the case of the centre figure, it is well worthy of
notice how the flexible lines on one side woo the figures, while on
the other the drapery as well as the figure of Fraud slinks away from
the hard line of the sword and the strong angle of the arm.
Mr. Simmons’s _Muses_ exhibit a certain restless power, tempered by
the sensibility of drawing and color. The first impression is of a
vivid blue or red spot. The note is at once daring and original and
in time irresistibly persuasive. For these panels are daring, not
only in color but in the treatment of the subject. The painter has
infused into the old Greek conception some of the intricacy of modern
thought, without, however, losing the classic character. Observe, for
instance, his representation of Tragedy. Greek tragedy was concerned
with facts, the sin and the vengeance, not with psychological
considerations. The actor’s mask covered even his face. But in the
panel before us is a suggestion of the whole perplexing problem of
human sin and suffering. Or note the conception of Calliope, with
the hands uplifted like Aaron’s, partly in supplication, partly in
encouragement, and with the shadow across those pitying eyes; it
would be unintelligible but for the _Inferno_ or _Paradise Lost_.
In the thought and execution we feel a certain quality of what one
may be allowed to call, perhaps, _diablerie_. Sometimes it becomes
palpable to sight, as in the pale yellow flame in the panel of
Polyhymnia. It is something more than technique--it is a spark struck
out of the artist’s personal consciousness.
A few words in conclusion upon the significance of this Library.
The union of sculpture and painting with architecture has always
marked the brilliant period of a country, not only in arts and
sciences, but in material and social advancement. The movement in
this country, begun by Richardson and John la Farge, in Trinity
Church, Boston, has been steadily fostered by our leading architects,
gained an immense impulse at the World’s Fair, was endorsed by the
Trustees of the Boston Public Library, and may now in the Library of
Congress be said to have received the sanction of Government. It is
a pre-eminently democratic movement, for art so directed becomes an
idealized embodiment of the national life, and is brought within the
reach of millions. And the benefit will react upon Art itself, since
her domain is thereby widened, her opportunities increased, and an
incentive supplied to higher and nobler work. Studied in connection
with the great buildings of Europe, this Library, representing the
various aims and methods of so many men, working from different
points of view towards the same purpose, will afford an opportunity
for analysis and comparison that should yield rich fruit. One may
even venture to predict that, properly used, it will lead to that
artistic ideal, the formation of a distinctively American School of
Mural Painting. A school, founded upon the methods of the past; but
differing in its animating impulse; no longer catering, as in the
Italian Renaissance, to the cultivated caprice of a few powerful
patrons, or reflecting an age when faith and civic virtues had waned,
but broadening out to express the aspirations of a self-governing
People, who profess belief in Religion, Country, Home, Themselves,
and Humanity at large.
[Illustration: (decorative archway)]