over a piece of strong, glazed muslin (of the same colour) covered with
waterproof glue--_e.g._, indiarubber or glue and rubber cement--so that
the mending will not be apparent. This process is very applicable to
loose skirts, or to any garments on which there is no such severe pull,
as, _e.g._, trousers or coat-sleeves. To effect these as well as all
other repairs perfectly it will be necessary to experiment a few times.
Unfortunately nearly all amateurs without exception make no experiment
till it is necessary to repair something, and then, because they very
naturally botch it, find fault with the recipe. Yet, strangely as it
may sound, there are many cases in which mending or making fabrics can
be executed far more neatly with a very strong cement, such as that
of mastic and sturgeon’s bladder, than with needle and thread, the
former actually requiring less margin to hold than the average width
of a seam, for the least possible overlap suffices to bind where the
adhesive is strong. This process of mending is little known, probably
because there has been hitherto very little general knowledge of the
immense strength and tenacity of certain cements, which have, indeed,
only been discovered of late. For all ordinary mending, in fact, glue
with glycerine, or glue and indiarubber solution in benzole, will
answer as well as the far more expensive Turkish or Diamond cement.
If the reader will only reflect that a large proportion of all black
and glossy silks are heavily gummed, sometimes up to their own weight,
it will be understood that there can be no substance with which they
can be more appropriately mended than with cement--a fact well known
to many who employ postage-stamps or black court-plaster to heal their
rents; but as this is generally very expensive, and as any old silk
and glue or gelatine, or dextrine, answer just as well, the latter had
better be considered.
There is much weaving of the most exquisite fabrics done in the East,
and even among savages, almost entirely by hand; that is to say, the
threads are simply attached to a rod, while the woof is worked in with
a needle. Most fabrics can be mended by an analogous process, which is
a remaking the cloth. Much depends on the proper finishing or dressing
the surface by laying on it a piece of cloth and ironing it.
MENDING MOTHER-OF-PEARL AND CORAL
Mother-of-Pearl is the shell of the pearl-oyster (_Avigula
margaritifera_), much admired for its beautiful texture and white
colour, in which there is a peculiar iridescence or rainbow play of
colours. The best, and by far the principal portion in commerce, comes
from the islands of the Pacific. It has risen immensely in value of
late years. Almost, if not quite, equal to it is the East Indian, from
the Sulu Islands, Ceylon, and Aden, or the Persian Gulf. An inferior
kind comes from the Eastern Mediterranean, also another from America.
The iridescent glaze, accompanied with more or less of the mother or
solid substance, is found in a very great number of shells; _e.g._, the
Peter’s Ear (_Halyotis iris_) of the Pacific; also in common mussels,
especially the _Unio_, found in most clear streams or brooks in Europe
and America where there is not much lime. These often yield pearls of
great value.
Mother-of-pearl can be sawed without any great difficulty into plates,
which are polished with fine sand and then with tripoli. Of late a
great deal of small furniture inlaid with squares and triangles of this
material has found its way from Turkey and Persia to London. These
pieces are simply attached with cement made of sturgeon’s bladder,
mastic, salmiac, or even glue. They can generally be obtained from
dealers in Oriental goods. ABRAHAM SASSOON, of Wardour Street, will
supply them in any quantity.
LOUIS EDGAR ANDÉS and SIGMUND LEHNER, both experimental technologists,
have given several curious recipes for imitating mother-of-pearl. From
filing or grinding, the best mother-of-pearl shell becomes like a white
metal, which can be combined with white of egg or pure white gelatine
to a fine marble-like substance, which, however, lacks iridescence.
Broken into very small pieces, which are set in a bed of glue and
glycerine, and then covered, when dry, with another coating of the
same, we have what its inventor, LEHNEr, assures us is a very good
imitation of pearl-shell.
But there is scaled away from a variety of shells a coating of _nacre_,
or coloured glaze, which when powdered still retains the pearly lustre.
This may be taken even from the common American oyster or all mussels.
According to ANDÉS, who refers, I think, to this, it can be laid on any
substance and covered with a gum-glaze. He also informs us that the
pearl-like inner layers of oyster-shells, or of any other kind, reduced
to powder and mixed with sturgeon’s bladder and spirits, painted on
grey paper in several coats, present the appearance of _nacre_. I have
seen specimens of such painting which were indeed very pretty, but
the pearly iridescence was rather faint. According to the author, the
pearly brilliancy is much increased by an addition of silver-bronze
powder.
I conclude from this, not having in this instance experimented
personally, save in carving pearl, that coarse powders of the highly
coloured greenish and other _nacres_ of tropical shells, as well as
of the European mussel and some other shells, can be combined with
binding-gums of a transparent nature so as to form a very admirable
imitation of mother-of-pearl.
I may here remark, in connection with this, that the common American
clam (_Venus mercernaria_) has a white shell of intense hardness,
which, when polished, is as beautiful as porcelain or ivory; also that
the purple spot in the American oyster-shell, from which the Indians
made a very hard and beautiful bead, might easily be drilled out for
buttons.
A very beautiful imitation of mother-of-pearl is made in Japan. It is
not, however, iridescent. It is said to be made with rice. I conjecture
that this is rice treated with diluted acid.
I have before me now a string of 400 imitation red _coral_ beads, price
twopence, such as are commonly sold everywhere. They are manufactured
of vermilion powder, rice-flour, and gum, and, when they are carefully
made, are extremely hard and durable, so much so that the composition
may be used to mend broken articles made of red coral. Such objects
in a fractured state are very common in curiosity shops, but the art
of repairing them seems to be as yet unknown, though it is extremely
profitable.
Of coral, LEHNER tells us that celluloid in combination with different
substances--_e.g._, white zinc or cinnabar--can be coloured from
delicate rose to fiery vermilion, and forms a very close imitation
of coral. A very good and much cheaper imitation can be made by
preparing perfectly white paper-paste (_vide_ Papier-Mâché), and
combining it with vermilion, zinc, &c. From such artificial coral very
beautiful cups, plates, and ornaments for inlaying, beads, pendants
for jewellery, book-covers, &c., can easily be made. The colour can be
varied to turquoise, emerald, ebony, ivory, &c., by simply changing the
colouring-powders used.
There is a very cheap and common imitation of coral made by dipping
vermicelli, twigs, &c., into a solution of red sealing-wax in spirits
of wine. This is, however, extremely brittle. White marble-dust, or
very fine white flint sand, combined with vermilion and silicate of
soda, is said to produce a very admirable imitation of coral. The
basis of levigated sand, or carbonate of lime, with silicate, can be
varied with the dyes to imitate any gems, and is invaluable for mending
pottery or stone-work.
Coral and several other substances are also imitated by combining about
nine parts of very clear glue to one of glycerine. This is qualified
with one equivalent of white zinc or dye-stuffs. Thus the glue basis is
combined with colcothar, ochre-sepia, umber, ochre, or chrome. This is
also a valuable cement for mending a great variety of objects.
Any fine white shells ground to powder may be combined with gum and
a very little glycerine and vermilion to make artificial coral; also
white glue or gelatine with glycerine. This may be made in quantity for
casts of all kinds of objects, such as plates in inlaid work.
RESTORING AND REPAIRING PICTURES
“_The restoration of disfigured and decayed works of art is next in
importance to their production._”--Field, Chromatography.
I published in 1864 a work entitled _The Egyptian Sketch Book_, which
began with the following abridged account of how oil pictures are
cleaned:--
“Three young painters had often heard what the American PAGE has
proved, that by carefully peeling the pictures of certain great
artists, coat by coat, one may learn all their secrets of colour. So,
having obtained an undoubted Titian, representing the Holy Virgin,
they laid it on a table and proceeded to remove the outer varnish by
means of friction with the fingers; which varnish very soon rose up in
a cloud of white dust, and acted very much as a shower of snuff would
have done.
“Then they arrived at the ‘naked colours,’ which had by this time
assumed a very crude form, owing to the fact that a certain amount of
liquorish tincture, as of Turkey rhubarb, or _tinct. rhabarbara_, had
become incorporated with the varnish, and to which the colours had been
indebted for their golden warmth.
“This brought them to the _glazing proper_, which had been deprived of
the evidence of the age or antiquity by the removal of the _patinæ_,
or little cups, which had formed in the canvas between the web and the
woof.
“The next process was to remove the _glaze_ from the saffron robe,
composed of yellow lake and burnt sienna. This brought them to a flame
colour, in which the _modelling_ had been made. They next attacked the
robe of the Virgin Mary, and having taken away the crimson lake, were
astonished to find a greenish drab. When they had thus in turn removed
every colour in the picture, dissecting every part by diligent care,
loosening every glaze by solvents too numerous to mention--including
alcohol and various adaptations of alkali--they had the ineffable
satisfaction of seeing the _design_ in a condition of crude, blank
chiaroscuro. Blinded by enthusiasm, having made careful notes of all
they had done, they flew at the white and black with pumice-stone and
potash; when, lo and behold! something very rubicund appeared, which
further excavation declared was the tip of the red--nose of King George
the Fourth! The Titian for which they had sacrificed so much was a
false god.”
The foregoing extracts were dictated by the late HENRY MERRITT, a very
distinguished restorer and artist, the author of _Pictures and Art
separated in the Works of the Old Masters_, and other works of which I
can truly say that the name MERRITT indicates that _nomen est omen_. I
was often by him while at his work, and had the benefit of seeing the
processes employed and the progress which he made in bringing to light
the “buried beauties” of pictures by great artists. What I have since
learned in addition will be found in the following pages.
Though it is simple and easy to describe the manner in which old
pictures in general are restored, it must be borne in mind that, as
regards a detailed and comprehensive description, the task would be the
most difficult in the whole range of repairing; for when a picture has
suffered so much that repainting is absolutely necessary, then nothing
but the skill of the original artist himself would ever do full justice
to it. In many cases we have pictures, like decayed works in wood, so
far gone that only a mere hint or sketch of the original remains, so
that they are generally deemed not worth keeping. In such cases the
restorer or repairer may very well do his best. There is, and always
will be, an immense field for every skilled repairer in this remaking
of antiques, to great profit, because there is an unlimited supply of
material, almost everywhere, wherewith to work.
To be a perfectly accomplished restorer of pictures one should be
an expert in chemistry, and not only one very familiar with all the
styles and schools of art, and gifted with great knowledge of the
_technique_ of great artists, but also no mean painter oneself. There
is a very general, but very vulgar and stupid, popular belief that the
restoration and cleaning of old pictures is a merely mechanical art,
about on a par with house-painting as regards skill or intelligence;
but this I earnestly deny, having found, since I have practised it
myself, that it affords a wide field to ingenuity, and that the
greatest artists living--I care not who they may be--can find in
restoration tasks which would fully tax all their skill, knowledge, or
genius.
Before proceeding to clean or repair a picture it is often advisable
for the artist to make an outline sketch of it with great care, in
order to correct and guide him in details. To do this, take very
transparent tracing-paper--the recipe for making which is elsewhere
given--then with a soft crayon-pencil, or a very black lead-pencil
(from 3 to 4 B), trace the whole. If the paper be not transparent
enough, then use thin glass, or, what is far better, sheets of mica,
gummed together at the edges, which will not break even if dropped.
Trace the picture on this with a fine brush and black oil-colour, or
any black paint which will hold. Then make a tracing from this on
transparent paper. To transfer crayon or lead pencil drawing to wood or
paper, very slightly dampen the surface of the latter, lay the tracing
on it face down, and rub the back of the latter with a burnisher or
ivory paper-knife. It will thus be perfectly transferred. This making
preparatory sketches or copies will be found in many cases extremely
useful, as training the eye carefully to the work to be done.
It is not _invariably_ true, though a great authority on
picture-cleaning (HENRY MOGFORD) has declared the contrary--that
“pictures ... unquestionably enjoy their highest perfection at the
first moment of production.” Many artists recognise the truth that a
year, or even years, are needed to give a certain delicate tone, which
is like the ripeness of fruit, to certain pictures; and the same is
true of certain artists, though by no means in the same degree of all.
But there are many persons who can associate the mellowing tones of
age or the venerable grey of antiquity with nothing but dirt, decay,
and poverty; as was the case with an Italian marquis, who, having heard
that a distinguished artist[4] had copied an old moss-grown wall or
fragment of ruin on his estate, sent an apology to the latter, stating
that if he had known that such a distinguished person intended to copy
it he would have had it cleaned and lime-washed, not in glaring white
(he knew better than that, he said), but in light blue! So I have known
an American gentleman to be distressed at discovering the appearance
of lichen on a corner of a “spick-and-span, brand-new villa,” which
he at once declared must be cleaned and painted all over. People who
suffer from this vulgar mania of over-scouring are apt to imagine
that when they detect the least sign of age in a picture it suggests
dirt and neglect, and hurry it off to the cleaner; unless, indeed (as
is too often the case), they--with insufficient knowledge, and with
“notions generally derived from guess-work, and suggested by the usual
arrangements for taking care of other household objects”--attempt to
restore the work themselves, which has been the cause of the ruin of
thousands of great works of art.
It may here be observed that modern pictures, owing to the hurried
processes of manufacture and the use of cheap materials in
machinery-made paints, change so rapidly that many lose half their
value in fifty years’ time. And, as if this were not enough, we
have the sulphuric acids generated by coal-fires (especially that
from anthracite coal in America, which even eats away the lime in
chimneys), as well as the deleterious effects of gas, vapours from
food, and, finally, the want of air and light in ever-curtained and
shaded rooms.
The causes, in fact, which lead to deterioration in pictures are
almost as many as those which produce diseases in man, and in not a
few instances they will be found to be the same. These are, as I have
said, foul air or malaria, or want of fresh air, dampness, the smoke
of candles in churches, too long exposure to sunshine, the exhalations
of charcoal, sulphur, sinks, &c.; “in short, all penetrating scents
are injurious to painting, especially if it be new.” Owing to this
prevalence of gas and coal smoke in houses, allied to the bad quality
of paints, as now manufactured cheaply by machinery, it is, indeed,
considered doubtful whether any of the pictures painted during the
reign of Queen Victoria will exist in “half-visible” condition fifty or
a hundred years hence. There is, as regards them, a grand future for
the restorer. One need only look at most of Turner’s earlier pictures
to fully verify what is here asserted.
The face of all old pictures long untouched will always be found
covered more or less with what is simply dirt; that is, dust more or
less dissolved by moisture. Now, dust consists simply of all kinds of
substances, even invisible extinct animal organisms in vast numbers.
The first step is simply to wash away this dirt with distilled or rain
water and ox-gall. Use a very soft, clean sponge, and pass it over the
picture many times. The last time wrap the sponge in a clean, white
linen or muslin handkerchief to see whether the surface is quite clean.
This and nothing more will often produce an astonishing improvement.
The next task will be to remove the varnish. _Hot_ water attacks any
varnish, reducing it to a dry powder; but, as M. GOUPIL remarks, this
is _très hasarde_, or is very risky, because it may also attack and
dissolve anything like gum or glue in the colours. M. GOUPIL, however,
sanctions the use of cold water in cleaning even to mere abuse, in
which he is in contradiction to HENRY MOGFORD, whose work I regard as
by far the best with which I am acquainted on the subject of cleaning
and restoring pictures which I have read.[5] On this subject he says:--
* * * * *
“During all operations of lining, and of picture-cleaning generally,
saturation by water is attended with disastrous effects, and the
use of it should therefore be limited to application by means of a
squeezed piece of sponge, or, what is better, a piece of buff leather,
soaked and wrung out. Water is a most dangerous enemy to pictures;
it penetrates to the priming or ground, loosens them by promoting
decomposition of the size with which they are worked, and thus lays the
foundation for their eventual disintegration and decay. Imbibed damp
will sooner or later cause the destruction of every woven material, and
while our daily experience shows its lamentable effects on the walls of
our dwellings, it will be well for us to remember that it is no less
destructive to the canvas of our pictures, and to the materials which
form its priming.
“All the pictures of the early masters of the Italian school, and
those of Claude and William Vandervelde, which are painted on chalk
and absorbent grounds, are in the greatest danger if washed with
water. It penetrates through the small crevices which may exist in the
paint, and often totally destroys the picture. If the painting be upon
canvas, like those of the two latter-named masters, it breaks into a
thousand small lines or cracks; and if upon panel, like the pictures of
Raffaelle, Andrea del Sarto, or Fra Bartolomeo, it breaks up the paint
by scaling it off in small points of the size of a pin’s head. If the
picture, again, is of the Spanish school, and is painted upon the red
absorbent grounds and upon a rough canvas, water not only breaks the
unity of its surface, but from the canvas being of a coarser texture
than the pictures of Claude or William Vandervelde, it often penetrates
in a greater proportion, and frequently scales off pieces as large as a
sixpence, especially in the dark shadows, or where the ground has not
been sufficiently protected by a thick _impasto_ (heavy coat or ground)
of colour. At all times and to all pictures water is more or less
dangerous, unless used with the greatest caution, and then it should
only be applied by means of a piece of thick buckskin leather well
wrung out, and left just wet enough to slip lightly over the surface
of the picture. In the case of some masters, as with those we have
specialised above, the free use of water may be regarded as next door
to absolute destruction; and the warmer and drier the weather the more
active and ruinous the operation. Instances have occurred in which an
Andrea del Sarto, a Claude and a William Vandervelde, were destroyed in
a few minutes by the injudicious use of simple water.”
* * * * *
I have given this quotation in full, because water is generally the
first thing freely resorted to clean pictures by the ignorant. Thus I
have heard of very valuable pictures being actually given to common
servants or the washerwoman to scour clean, which was effected
with soap and hot water and sand, to the speedy ruin of the work.
Nor is it any great wonder that this should be done, when we find
in GOUPIL’S work that, while he admits that cold water “infiltrates
itself partially to the fissures of a painting and does great harm,”
he declares that “_hot_ water acts differently,” giving the impression
that it may be very freely used, and declaring that “clean cold water
harmlessly dissolves grease and dirt resulting from dust deposited by
the air.” This is true, but he does not seem, like Mr. MOGFORD, to have
fully understood the other side of the question. (_Manuel Général et
Complet de la Peinture à l’Huile_, par F. GOUPIL.)
For first cleaning away impurities from a surface MOGFORD recommends
_ox-gall_ to be applied with a soft brush. This may be obtained in
shilling or six-penny bottles from Winsor & Newton, or any other
dealers in artists’ materials. “It is,” he adds, “an excellent
detergent, which may be freely applied without fear. It must, however,
be well washed” (_i.e._, wiped) “off with pure water, or it will leave
a clamminess on the surface that may prevent the varnish, afterwards
applied, from drying.” But a distinction must be carefully borne in
mind between _washing_ with water and letting it _soak_ into a picture
and simply wiping off the surface with a damp chamois or buckskin
or soft _old_ linen handkerchief. In fact, this latter is the first
thing to be done before slightly cleaning the surface with the diluted
ox-gall. It is very necessary that the skilled cleaner shall understand
exactly the nature of varnishes, so as to know on what he is to work.
Thus, according to the picture, he may employ “liquor potassæ, oil of
tartar, spirits of wine, pure alcohol, liquor ammoniæ fortis, naphtha,
ether, soda, and oil of spike or lavender. The very nomenclature of
these powerful agents will at once show the great risk of their being
injudiciously or carelessly employed.”
Great care should be taken not to allow an excessive or unequal
quantity of cleaning fluid to gather in one place. Therefore all
pictures should be laid flat while being restored, as streams, for
instance of ammonia, would cut very irregularly into a surface.
With pictures of any value, the process of cleaning is always very
delicate, requiring much practice and very perfect knowledge of all the
principles of the art.