The Craftsman - 1903 - 11 - November

7/27/2019 The Craftsman - 1903 - 11 - November

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www.historicalworks.com


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established and best aqnlpp,,,lEleven hundred feet above BBI)eautiful and historic educational

Military Academy80thYear

M EMBERSof the class of last June entered Michigan,Pennsylvania, Syracuse, Smith, Wellesley, Wil-Zams, Yale.B SIDES he college preparatory course, special coursesare given in Music, Elocution, and the ModemLanguages.A illustrated prospectus will give full informationcon-cerning the home life of the school and methods ofinstruction. Write for it.

A. LINCOLN TRAVIS, Principal

THE CATHERINE L. MALTBY SCHOOLRegular expense, $500. All the advantages of New York city. Thorough instruction. Collegepreparation. Special musical opportunities. A delightful school life. Liberal privileges.European summer travel. Vacation visits to Washington, etc. Number limited. Fourteenth year.

160 J ORALEMON STREET. BROOKLYN HEIGHTS. NEW YORK

HE PAPER SED THROUGHOUT THE CRAFTSMAN"the many high grade printing papers manufactured by

DILL & COLLINS OMPANY, APERMAKERS, HILADELPHIAPictures and Stories of Florida and the Southland

IN THE

FLORIDA MAGAZINEAN I LLUSTRATED J fONTHLY

ONE DOLLAR THL YEAR Addr.88 G. D. ACKERLY. PublisherSINGLE COPY TEN CENT% J acksonville. Florida

Kindly mention The Craftsman


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A Few SlightlyDamaged ets

Books are Royal Octave-About II inches tall

RidpathsHistory of the WorldIn cleaning up our stock preliminary to the season

of 190,3-q, we find a few slightly rubbed sets ofRidpaths History of the World.There are only about fifty in all, and sooner than rebind

such a small lot we prefer to dispose of them at a big dis-count from the regular price and on payment of $2 a month.If youd like to possess the only worlds h

to he written, Ho\v it will interest and entertain YOU, Why vou need ir,And ho\v you can secure one of the slightI!. rubtkzd sets a; much lessthan the subscription price.

Kidpaths History of the World is a great big set ofnine royaloctaw volumes, nich 4,000 illustrations and many maps andcolor-plates. You pay The complete setnly $1 do\~n.is smt at once. Ihe rest you pay in monthly paymentsof $2. Cut the coupon offand send it to-da)-.

MERRILL @.tBAKEPUBLISHERS

9 and 11 E. 16th St.. New York Name..................................Inquiry Coupon Address.. . . . . , . . . .Kinrlly mention The Craftsman


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.

IndispensableBooks at Low PricesFAMOUS IUUST&l TIOUS MEOHAUIOAL MF#WEOTlONS

vood - enqravings byuch artists as Cruik-hank,Psilthorpe, Hau-louin, Taylor, Price,Freer, Harper, Sand-mm, Laplante, Wilde,Flamenp, Kochegrosse,ichell, Johnwn, Mer-,ill and Dielman.

OUMAS THACKERAY

Carlyle

Our Guarantee,The Small Price and Why

The members of our Book Club run into the thousands.Every year we save them money in printing, illustratingand binding on account of the large number of volumeswe have published at one time. The plates, illustrationsand getting ready to print fifty sets of books cost asmuch as if you printed a thousand sets.

Now, we have just saved our Club members a consider-,able amount on this years book purchases. We have a fewsets left-only a very few of some-easy payments, if youprefer. You have ten days time to look them over care-fully-youll find them better than you think and will besatisfied.SEND IN YOUR ORDER TO-DAYJ ohn Wanamaker

CUT HERE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..f....................................................Name t %::f so. OfAllthl Iliw yr;; SCALE OF PAYMENTSEliot, 8 53 brS.oo On any single set $2 00 a monthThackeray, IO 256 22. j0 On orders for more than one set amounting to less than $6~--$3 a monthBalzac, 18 91 40.50 On orders amounting to more than $bo and less than $So-$4 a monthHugo,Carlyle, :o 49 22.50 On orders amounting to more than $80 and less than $r-$5 a monthIrving, 10 2;

22. j0 On orders amounting to more than $rw and less than $IZS-$& a month22.50 On orders amounting to more than $125 and lers than $r50 -$7 a monthDumas, 15 99 33.75 Onorders amounting to $15048 a month.. . . ___ __ ______________._____

JOHN WANAMAKER, New York or Philadelphia Nov.raftsmanPlease send me Standard Library sets fiat crossed off in list above. total number cfvolumes __ __ __otalprice

If I do not return the same to you within ten days of their receipt by me, I will p ay you or your orderd .amonth till their purchase is completed. Title in books is not to pass to me tillentirely paid for.NA ME __. __ _________._.. .___ ________

ADDRESS . . . _______._.Kindly mention The Craftsman


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THE CRAFIS~IAS

ment of the nineteenth century, FrederickLaw Olmstcd was an unsophisticated childof his age, permeated byits utili tarian andpractical spirit. At a time when socict1was less tainted with sordidness and luxurythan now, his character matured withoutlosing any of its native simplicity and pu-ri ty, and as it developed, rcsistcd the ener-vating influences of fashionable and sophis-ticated artificiality. Without fear of in-novation, he created a new art and game ita new name-a name that could not sug-gest dilettantism, a name that substitutedserious design for mincing esqnisitencss.A dignified architectural conception of theart of unfolding to men the beauties ofnature took the place of the less straigljt-forward, gardenesque ideal which to someextent had influenced even the best of hispredecessors. With striking ingem&:and abundant common-sense inbcritctl from

a thrifty and practical ancestry, he laidbefore his countrymen the merits of the newart. His forceful arguments won an at-teiiti Ie audience. _verywhere from theAtlantic to the Pacific the aid of his finediscrimination was sought, and the greaterportion of his life was spent in designingthe public parks with which his name willforever be associated in the minds of thepeople.

In tbc dedication of the fifth volume ofProfessor Sargents Silva of North Xmer-ica, Olmsted was described as the greatartist whose love for nature has been apriceless benefit to his fellow countrymen.From early youth he had been possessedof a passion for natural scenery. It hadled him to spend many days in the open, tomake distant pilgrimages to natures mostbeautiful spots, and to read with avidity allthe works that he could obtain on the sub-



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(0111111011 pcwpl~~, grc.;ltlv Iii:, iiif(~rior5 iii;Ic3tlrc*t ic l)r :I clc~liglrt iiiii:ltlirc wliic*li iriigllt Iw Iittcrly frcv fro111rlfYec+:ltioii or livpwri~v. lliis fiict :I(-cociiits for tlic 1mt~v~~llo11s iii1lwtus :L11(1 iir-\\)ir;l1 ioii \vllicli tliv .\incricnn pnrk lllov(-lllc~ lt r(~cc~vt~cl ilt Iris llilll~i. (it icbs cntcrctlc~or~li:illv iiito cwii))cbr:Ltioll witll Iiiiii, i111( 1tllclc \ VcTC fC\ V rc~~oiiiiu~iitl~~tioils tllilt II?t~r;lclc wliicli tlicy (litI not adopt. lliis 1x-:.l.llt w:w Inwliglit :d)out tliro~igli his ow!iIlio(l~bfy aiicl souiitl ,jli(lgiiiwt. A tlYlillcYllllilll of :ifFairS, diwipli lictl, :Ls 1lC 1l:ul hII.I)!_ SllClI glY:lt ll~d~~+Ll< ~gS :IS tile SllJ )V1-vision of tlic coiistnlctioil of Cciitral liirI\:tntl tlrtb 0rpniz;itioii of tlir work of tlwS:tllitiLl?_ (oiili iiihhioil, II


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THE CRAFTSMAN

Tobys garden. Invariably will they beencount.ered n-hen the fundamental impor-tance of utility is forgotten.

All of Mr. Olmsteds work was designedfirst of all with a view to utility. Withthat principle as his starting point, his aimwas to reproduce the beauty of nature.The materials of his art were primarily,with only casual exceptions of minor sig-nificance, phvsical rather than formal, andhis art itself was an adaptation and ar-rangement, rather than a counterfeit ormodification of those elements. I f the normof his workmanship did not exist in nature,approximations to it were to be foundeverywhere; not simply in the forests of3faine or on the rock-girded shore of CapeAnne, where nature retained much of herprimitive aspect, but on the charming hill-sides of Lenox, and the broad farming lands

of Connecticut, where man had left themarks of his husbandry. Open meadow,even though at a remote period it may havebeen produced by clearing away the prime-val forest, supplied him with material notless legitimate than the umbrageous dellsand 1 d -gc capped highlands of the Adiron-dack wilderness. He did not adopt a scien-tific formula, and aim simply to reproducethe normal processes of nature. So he didnot scruple to substitute a gentle slope forthe harsh contour of a moraine, or to re-move stones from a gravelly field and re-surface it with loam. The artificiality ofthe town was mainly what he wished toavoid.

Remarkable as lvere the effects whichwere secured in the treatment of forest, sea-side, and stream, probably the most delight-ful work of Olmsted-at all events that



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rlll~w~ hutiful park ~ic:ulon-S, liowc\ -cur.\ Vltll tllClr Cll:Ll?llil lg vistas illl(1 I)l.OiL(l (X-]:lS of turf. COllltl IlOt IliLYC l)CCll })lY)-tlllC


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THE CRAFTSMAN

OVER THE MEAUOW, PIIASKLIS PARKA luwwlth of view-whir11 in spite of necesawily lnw~d rowd+ and grnrelwalks ix wry refreshing, interwting, ant1 lwantifnlin H high d(,arc,c,.-0lmstrcl

of the surface was entirely changed. Theultimate appearance of the park, as it looksto-day, was thus forecast by its creator:It is designed to appear a fortunate pres-ervation of a typical bit of New Englandseashore landscape, including, as it vvill, asalt creek bordered by salt meadows andlow, wooded, gravelly ridges. There willbe in it no shaven lawns or pastured mea-dows, the planted ground above the saltmarsh being occupied by trees, underwood,and low, creeping, flowering plants in a110

couditiou sugq3tivc ofnatural wildness.

Here, as elsewhere inthe parks of Boston, we seethe true American land-scape. No American be-fore Olmsted, not even thecclcctic and clcgant Down-ing, had clearly perceivedthe necessity of heeding thedemand of his native landfor worthy artistic treat-ment . Olrnsted loved thebroad meadow, richly car-peted with turf, and thegreat tree standing instately solitude in the midstof the gently undulating,wood-bordered field. Herealized that in those partsof the country which havelong undergone cultivation,and are in certain featuressimilar to sections of theOld World, the broad, opentreatment, with views ofstriking isolated objects liketrees or boulders, might beappropriate. Nevertheless,

in designing parks and laying out privateestates he was extremely loath to introduceanv elements of landscape w-hich would seemforeign to their region. While he wasfamiliar with the technical principles ofEnglish landscape art, he was never, in anysense, a mere imitator of the English style.

If he had a theory of landscape, it wasa simple one, as free from artifice as theart that he practised. Mainly, he said,the value of a park depends on the dispo-sition and quality of its woods, and the



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rc*l:Ltioii of its ~00~1~ to otllcr i1:Ltllr:kl fcv-tlllY5, tIllis sliow-iiig llis lx~lic~t ii1 ttic full-(/illll~lltill illlJ)Ol.tilll(~ Of tlYYxS :LS :I prilicipilSOll1,Y of I~cxut~. 111~ cl1:1ractCr of hiswork wntlcrs :~pp:ir~at tiis prcfcrencc folttw ,lUll~ cool coIo1s of tt1c forcst, I.:ltll~ltlliul tlw warin, striking Iiuc~s of the vii&-g-at 1d flO\\~,l- g:lrtlCll. lottccl Jhllts, for-Ill:11 flowc~ Iwtls. ailtl ~~loscl~ trillmid grassIlC ttlOll~llt SllggcStLtl tllC tO\Vll, 01 iLt lC:lStt11c h1llNl.l). Ill I~illlkIil1 1:ll.k is to I)


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lined roads of snlmrban scttlemcnts. 1311this name will always bc chiefly associatedwith the public parks of i~mcrici~. Hislow for his fc~llow men, his ardent intwvstin tlic wclfarc of so&+, his courage infacing tllc rithllc that tlic (cntral Parliundertaking at first cncountcrcd, as well astlic patieiicc and forcsigllt \vitlr wlricli 1112was content to do work which onlr th liandof time could bring to complcttncss andrdOUCl1 in 1llCllOW COlOrS-ill1 tllCW tilingslllil(lc) liim tile cliic,t SllppOTt, :Ls WC11 1S tllcprincipal inspiration,of tlic park mowmcnt.Art with him could csist only for manssake, and must be dedicated to the ol)jcct, ofproducing not mcrrlv new plwr~~r~s, hitnew powers and nwv pcrccptions. IIC SELIVthe dangers of tlic bustling, artificial lifeof commcrcc, and the need of a strong forceto counteract a pervcrtcd csercisc of tlwinstinct of self-preserration. I-t+ to CllCCkthe spread of a sordid niatcrialism notllingcould bc so cffectiw, hc knew, as the &\-cl-opmcnt of iic~v hahits, new tastcx, and newcapCacitics for action and for eii,joymcnt.Simple and nohlc pleasurfs, sul)stitllted forwasteful and dcgra(ling luxuries. couldbetter mans condition, and such pleasureswrc to bc found in tlie wrv forms of ac-tivity and rccrration n-liicli coiitrilmtcdllloit to his plivsical and illoral well-hcbing.This was the idwl which Oliristed sought,with liLl)oriolls carnestncss, to iiiculc:Ltetll~Ollgll0llt his p~Of~SSiOllil1 c:Lrccr. \\itlia manly continuitg of purpose. 11e nvvcrforgot, its importance. Tlic fncultic5 ofall :Lcute ;Lntl \-igoroiis iiiilid and a Tirileand llu1llxnc cli:Lr;Lctw wore tlu2niselrcs outin tllc splendid task of popularizing thisideal among the American p120ple. He pos-

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hessed, iii a w:~y, much tlie s:~nic sort of coii-victioli regarding the Tital needs of manshiglicr nature, as LM men like Morris andHuskin in sway. Rllilc 1~ little rcscmblcdtlicm in tclii~,cr:lmcilt, Ire was one wit11 themin tliinking of lift ilS far greater tllan art.IIc sovglit to iill})rcss upon his age, witlitllc judicious cahlhtion of the man of af-fairs, r:Ltliw tllan the impetiious zeal of thercformcr, tlic liigliest ethical tcacliing oftliosc who cliooic to worship :wt at thes 11lllC of lliLtlll.L,. and wisll to InGig abouttile ;\~~:lkc~lling f 111~11s ~0111so tile beautyof tlrc world about, them.

hcon wrote in liis clirious cssay on gar-dclling : \\lrcw ages grow to civility andelrg~nw, nieii conic to hild stately soonerthan to gai&i finely-as if gnrdeningwere the grcntcr pcrfcction. To tlw mindof Olnistcd, hndscapc art was wortlig of :Lllol~lcr 1lSC tllnn that Of t11c fussy md &Lbrates orn:~lilciitntioli to which Bacon n-as ac-cllhtolllccl. It dcscwwl to rank with poetry,n11isic, sculpture, and painting, not withperfumery and costumes. So lie re-createdanew tllc art of lalldscapc ~gardening, giv-ing it a form preEnlinently adapted to hisowl IRlld mcl cpocl1. T170rking with WL-tiircs own niatcrials. 1112ketched the out-llncs of iui inhitc wrirty of conipositioilsof licroic size, Icaving licr to fill in the col-ors. l?rcrv sunmiw slit retouches tlic~ll.wcr and anon adding strokes wllicll hriltgtlicm closer, year 1)~ ye:~r, to the result thatlw intcwlctl ; :uid with tlic coming andgoing of cvcrv wawn, tllc illusion of the al)-sciicc of limii:~~i tlcsigii stendily grows mowcomplctc. It is even as he would Elawwislictl-to obliterate himself utterly, thattile art which 1~ lewd might be glorified.



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THE SILVERYMITH'S ART

T E grc:Lt 1lloveiilont which is obscrvcd to-day in tlic ind~istrid arts,and which, untlt~r the n;~nic ofI,d rt Sourwru, has cscitcd so

ili:tny :wguin(~nts, inter&s all serious niinds ;I~w:LIIs~~,by whtorcr ixmie oiw dcsigii:ltcsit, it is a rcsal rwirnl of t,lie dccorativcstyle which our prctlcccssors lid :~llow~tlt0 lYiLCl1 tllC fill:11 d(!glYY! Of dCCdCllCC. IICkllO\V \VCll tll;lt \VC :LlY IlOt CPeiltiIlg :1 1leMart ; we hiow that, time is n ncccss:~r_v co-ad,jutor : hit we are cfrtain that wc arcright, iii not contenting oI1rsclvcs with \Vlliltexists, and in striving to do htttr : tllatt,lius, iii tllc great work of civilization, \VCsldl 11ot h ill1 ol~st:Lclc to progrCSS, htdlicr tht 15x2 slid1 lighten tlic task oftlN~sc \r-II0 nl1:111 suwcccl 11s.

Tllc tlrity of tllc critic, tlics fuiictioii oftllc art review, is to escrcise a ,jutliciouscwsorsllip ov~r tllcx prodlictions of artists,illl(l tlllls to contrihiitc tO\V:Wtl forniing tllcpldic tiLSt(. Ijilt criticisi ii is valid milywlicii it is Ixwd upoii priiiciplw firm Cvi-tlent, :md of wliic rcrognizcc~ by all. a1twlirrc shall IvC final ri11~5 ant1 principles?\VC sli:~ll not forni thin (I priori, tlirongl~ :LproCCss Of pll1( WlsO l ing. Wc cm dis-cowr tlwin only lg cxuiiiiiing the hzautifrilworks of the past. lllc attcntivc, intelli-gCnt Csaniination of old inastcr-picccs willpcrinit us to cstal)lisli for crcry art, for

cVCr_Y SlIl)St:LllC~ 01 lllilt~liil1, tile lYlic3 wliicli,iiiorc or 1~s consciously. workers in tireintlustrid arts li:LvC followc~l iii cr(vLtiilgtlicir works : rules which iwv to-(l:Ly. as tliC>wcw vcstcwlay :uitl will IN, to-mmww, gootland htid)lC. since thy pwc~c~l fronl cliiali-tics pcilliar to tlw iii~+lwtl c~111l~lo~c~1,wliicllreim~ins iii~:~riihlc tlirougliout tiiw ; goltlIwing goltl, to-day, as it was twcmtv ccnt-iirks ago.

It, is, tlicrcforc~. in tllc pa>t tllilt we lrlu~tseek rules for the art of tlic fntrirc.

Sow, iii trutll, tIic,rc is notliing less knownt11a11 t1w put. Ihriiig the ninotcwitliCClltllry, for Cs:niiplc~, tlrc indiistriid artsr~protluccd only a fur uiiwrying niodcls,wcli of wliiclr, cmjoyl, on(~ kiiows notwliy, tlic siiigiiliw privil~~gc of rc~prcwiiting2111 cpocl1. One lid thus :I (Gothic coffw,two or tlmv brc ffcts iii tlic lic~n:~sccncc~ style,a Loiiis XI\. writing-dehli ant1 chirs,I,oui$ X1. silver,-ant1 we ww greatlysvi~pristd on (wtvriiig iI 11~11s~11111o witnesstllcs IiIr@ lilwrty rc~igiiing iii tllcsc stylt3, ofwliicli tllcx ~liodern imitators n~~~ro~liicctl only



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THE CRAFTSMANa few of tlic i11orc striking chnractcristics.LYlc tlW.Y~lXti~C artists llad no prccisc kl l O\ Vl -dgc of tl i c riclics of tllc past,. Tl1cy 1Mdbcforc tlirm only a few picccs which fashionrquired them to rcproducc.

Ijut tlicrc was a still graver aspect of thecsisting conditions. Artists knew the past.

only t,o copy it,. Instead of stzd?jing theold luodels, thy csertcd all their efforts torcprotlucc t11err1 with understanding andi WCUl %C~. They fashined works of copy-ists, and not, of creators. In that fact laytheir principal error. A decorative artwhich enters t!:c path of reproduction is adead art. Thcp copied so cstensivcly that.,n-hen the innovators appeared, these latterwere thoroughly alienated from the pastwhich csistcd onlr in dead and of.which the same csamplcs were offered inendless series. Affected by such conditions,many of those who cast, tlicmselves on theside of the new art, said: Let us fix ourgaze upon t.he present ! Let us no longertliLVC consideration for the past, which llas~KXY~ or us R frightful burden! Id ourwork bc independent and original !

nut. a style can not lx improvised. Thcrcare rules which govern the production of avase, R dresser, an


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THE CRAFTSMANThe precious metals, gold and silver, were

employed by men as soon as they couldfashion and ornament objects. The desireof pleasing innate in both sexes, the pride

of displaying riches, hare placed jewels inthe number of the oldest documents that wchave prcservcd regarding primitive human-itv. Weapons were chiseled at an earlyperiod. Evcryonc is acquainted with theHomeric descriptions of scenes from the livesof the gods reprcscnttd on the shields ofheroes. In the period of the high Greekand Roman civil ization, lusury engenderedsuperb works of the goldsmiths and silvcr-smiths arts, of which only a few speci-mens are extant. For a later period ofRoman civilization, the Bosco Reale collec-tion offers a series of important pieces for

those who stud>- the history of work in theprecious metals.

The barbarian invasions ensued. Theantique world crumbled away. The over-whelming floods of devastating pcoplcspassed over the world and renewed its face.It is not within the limits of our subject tostudy here that which these barbariansbrought wit.h them ; the Goths, Visigoths,Lombards, Franks, Saxons, Burgundiansand Norm,ands, of whom we nre the sons.They had a taste for art which they trans-lated in a manner both original and beauti-ful. WC might indeed show specimens oftheir work which are related to the gold-and silversmiths art, and date from Mero-vingian times: that is to say, which areanterior to the ninth century. For esam-pie, bindings of missals, whose silver set-tings, encrusted with uncut gems or coloredglass, framed some Byzantine ivory carv-ing. There are also beautiful examples ofthe (arolingian period. But we wish tobegin with finished works, which will showus tlic perfection of the new civilization inmodern Europe. M7e shall, thcrefoic, openthis st.udy with the twelfth cent,ury.

This period, it is true, epitomizes in amasterly way, the life of the previous Chris-tinn centuries. It attained the point ofperfection toward which the arts uncon-sciously tended from the time when a newcivilization arose. WC may call the twelfththe great century of the Middle Ages. Andwith truth, since, if it shows us the heightof attainment of the preceding ages, itgives also the point of departure; it openeda long path for civilization. It was thetwelfth century which gave the solution ofthe architectural problem of vaulting, in amanner, solid, economical and beautiful, the



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g:lwt ctlifkes tlerot,ctI to religion. llw StvlcClll~d Gothic IjUt fort11 its first : l t tel l l ptS(luring tlrc first lidf of tlw twlftli century,iii tlio I~IYN~II~Yof tlic 11~ clc Ir;uicc, of wliichI ' i t l i S \V:LS t l l c capta. In sclllptLlrc, tt1cw\viLS :L hiiliil:Lr tl~~~c~lo~~iiic~iit. JlonLiiim1talsClllptwc~ :wose iii IIX~W in tlic twclftliw11tr1r\-. llic tlrirtL~~wtl1 iricwly coiitiniicdii1 tllL! IliLt I 1 illlTltl~ tp\(Ctl. 21s for t11c*iiitliistrial :lYtS, tllc\ lliltl tllcl1 lWLcllct1 sllcll:I tlCglYY~ Of pvrfcc~ioii t IliLt it C:L11 b(~ ilf-tiriii(d tl1:Lt tlicw 11:~s Siiiw ~~01 no -progwSS,and too Okll onv tlw:ucllr~ A\s for \W.liin tlic pr~cioiis iIiet:LlS, tliv 1)ivccs \vllic*l1 \vcilliiSt r;~tcs IIILVCwwr lw(w S~~rpsscd.

IllC~lY \V(I( ttwn, :lS lion-, two prilic*il);tliii(+lio(l4 of working silvw : tlic oiio czstilig ;tllc otllc~r hating tllc 1Llct:Ll in il thin sl1cctowr :L liartl for111 or illat ris. I l l l,otll GLS(Stlic hit\-csr Iv:\5 rc~toilclic~tl I)? tllc clliscsl :tftciI)c4ng Clht 01 IWLt~l. l~iii:ilIy, tllC! t\V(~ttlliLi(l tlrc, tliirtoc*nll wntilry silvcrsiiiitlis uwtlc,stcllsivclv pattc~nrs ii1 wlicf. :llld also hil\.crfilipcr, wliidi tlicy ri\-ctctl ~ipoii the htl_yof tlic I)icLc*v. or. wit11 p-wt skill, soltlcrcd toit. Ottc~ii, :tlw, tlic,y rctoIicllc~d tlicsir I)icvx5wit11 tllc gVl\-illg-tOO, i\ll(l tlY\CcYl tlcw)lY-tire T,/f)fifS OIL flilt Sl l l ' t' ;LVC


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THE CRAFTSMANthings of craftsmanship. This is a graveerror. Art resides first of all in a faultless

csccution, in a perfect knowledge of tech-nical processes, whether it is a question of apicture or of a jewel-box. These technicalprocesses were transmitted from generationto generation in the workshops of the Mid-dle Ages. The practical study of the craftconstituted the entire apprenticeship of theaspirants to art. When the apprenticeknew his craft thoroughly, he gained themastership, and it resulted that the objectsmade with so much care and material laborwere also works of art.

In our own time, art is taught in schools.Rut technical process has degenerated tonothing. What industrial art shall weleave after us, in spite of the lessons givenin our schools by very learned artists who

write Art with a capital A? Let us firstlearn from the Middle Ages respect forqL:alities of craftsmanship which are indis-pcnsable in the industrial arts, and withoutwhich the highest gifts of invention andcomposition are useless.

We show first in il lustration two antiquesmounted in the twclftli century, at the timewhen, under the influence of the abbotSuger, minister of Louis VII ., the arts re-ceived great encouragement in France.

In the eighteenth century, under LouisXV. iLIlt Imiis SYI., hCilUtifLl1 Chineseporcelain TXSCS wcrc mounted in chiseledbroiizc. Such arc now highly prized byconnoisseur3. . In the twelfth century thedegree of refiiicmcnt was equal, if not su-perior. There were antique vases of por-phyry or rock-crystal mounted in preciousmetal, or classic c:m~cos framed in gold andprecious st.oncs. Of these certain pieceshaye been preserved.

The first csample whicli we il lustrate(Plate I) comes from the old Treasury ofSaint, I)cnis, and is now in the Museum ofthe Louvre. It wxs mouut.ed in silver, atthe middle of the twelfth century. It showstlie decorative taste peculiar to the timesand the met.hods of work t.hen employed.As in the earlier centuries, uncut gems wereheld in high favor : garnets, amethysts, tur-quoises, sapphires and opals were encrustedin the metal. This is a decorative method,characteristic of the barbarian styles andobserved from the Merovingian perioddownward. Instituted by craftsmen of un-erring taste, it produced a rich and strikingeffect. I see no reason why the artists ofour own t.ime should not return to it, andwhy they sllould not study from this pointof view the work of the craftsmen in the



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THE SILVF,RSMITHS ARTprecious metals up to the twelfth century.We shall present here examples of the samestyle more accentuated and complete.

We find, also, upon the mounting of thevase, applied silver ornaments in relief, suchas occur throughout this period. The man-ner in which they are either riveted or sol-dered to the background is very remark-able. But aside from the workmanship,every one capable of appreciating artisticthings, recognizes the beauty and breadthof style of the vase, the bold character ofthe ornament, the accentuation of its con-tours. We should carefully study themodels of this period to understand whatstyle is, to appreciate the delicacy of tastewhich can be employed in the compositionof an object of art.

The following example (Plates I I andII I) is again an antique vase, this time inporphyry, belonging to the first half of thetwelfth century, and known as the SugerVase. It is preserved in the Museum of theLouvre. This piece of gilded silver is oneof the treasures of the Apollo Gallery, inwhich are assembled all the objects of artin the Louvre. It has a character whollydifferent from any of the other pieces whichwe il lustrate, and it shows how perfectlythe art of the twelfth century could inter-pret animate Nature. There are no geo-metric designs, no uncut gems, no volutesor spirals. An eagle is represented. Theneck continues the neck of the vase, thewings are attached to the handles, the vaseitself, supported by powerful claws, doesnot lose its original character. It is a workof striking individuality and singularforce. The head rises majestically ; thewidely opened beak is effective; above all ,the eye, set in the flat skull, is eloquent and

threatening. It is a magnificent work ofart, unequaled in modern times in bothstrength and restraint. To find its rivalswe must seek among the bronzes of thegreat periods of J apanese art.

In the series of crosses with figures ofthe same period we give a piece from theTreasury of the cathedral of Sens, whichis of a simple and beautiful design (PlateIV). An opal is encrusted at the extrem-ity of each of the branches of the cross upon



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which the Chr ist iq extended, after the man-ncr of the statues of the time. Crosses ofthe twelfth century are still numerous inFrance and Germany.

Rut let us first examine attentively theseries of works in which the reprcscntationof the human figure does not enter. Wefind, indeed, fewer figures in the gold andsilver work of the period which wc arestudying, than in the following centuries,when the human figure begins to be themost important part of the work of thecraftsman in the precious metals. Gener-ally speaking, the works of the twelfthcentury show a purely decorative treatmentwhich has never been surpassed.

As an example of such treatment we maycite the chalice of Saint R6my (Plate V),which is preserved in the cathedral ofReims. It is a characteristic work of thetwelfth century, very rich in decoration,exquisitely finished, and treated in thegrand style. We find here again, disposedwith sure and sumptuous taste, the delicatefiligree and the uncut gems which we haveobserved in our previous examples. Thispiece and the one following it arc eloquentin themselves. No description is necessarv.

The second piece, similar in style, is the . detail. Scrolls winding about the precious

THE SILVERSMITHS ART

Cross of Clairmarais (Plate VI ), preservedin the Treasury of the church of YotrcDame at Saint Omer. I t is, perhaps, themost typical work in precious metals of theperiod. I t is, at all events, the one whichgil-es the strongest impression of the pecul-iar style of decoration: the volutes, the ap-plied filigree, the deeply-set stones so char-acteristic of the art of the twelfth century.The powerful general effect, the strong, rc-strained outlines are allied to the most deli-cate grace, to the most abundant richness of

gems, terminate in clusters of berries, or infloral forms resembling daisies.

At Rar-sur-Aube, we find a beautifulexample of the same period. It is a reli-quary of Saint Maclou, in the church ofthe same name (Plate VJ I). I t is of ele-gant form, rich also as to decoration, and,like all the works of this period, it is sup-ported upon a solid base of considerablediameter and escellcnt lines.

We now reach a charming work of theend of the same century. I t is a reliquary

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THE CRAFTSMANin gilded silver, which is one of the treas-ures of the church of Charroux (PlatesVI I I and IX). It is a work perfect incomposition and execution. Plate VIIIrepresents the reliquary as closed. It isdecorated with silver filigree of exquisiteuvorkmanship. The receptacle, when opened,(Plate I X) shows two angels displayingthe relics of the saint. The front face ofthe plates of the cover bears engraved fig-ures of the Christ and the kneeling donors.It is a singularity of the art of the MiddleAges that it 1most never offers representa-tions of God. The only form in which Heappears, and rarely then, is that of a hand.Was it because the men of that period didnot dare to attempt to figure forth theAlmighty? I do not believe that to be thereason. The sculptors and the painters ofwindows preferred the Christ, the Son ofMan, and His Mother, the Virgin, who were

nearer humanity and who appeared to themthe most effectual mediators between themand God the Father.

We present, as a final example, a beauti-ful cross of the same period, preserved inthe Museum of the Louvre (Plate X). Itis a perfect type of the silver work of thelast part of the twelfth century. It is dcc-orated in filigree and uncut gems, and alsowith figures : the crucified Christ,-not thedying Savior, but the Victor over death:then, on two branches rising from the centralsupport, St. J ohn and the Virgin in the atti-tude of grief, exquisite in line and expres-sion. Upon the foot of the cross there arcplates of silver enamel in a style which pro-duced mastcrpicces of medi,ltval art. But.as this work may be classed under the headof enameling, rather than under silver, weshall not further describe it.

We are now to leave the twelfth century.From the point of view of workmanship ingold and silver, it is perhaps the greatestcentury that we include in our study. Wehave, therefore, lingered here, and made itthe subject of an entire article.

Beside the qualities which we have al-ready noted in the objects il lustrated, thcrcis yet one of great importance of which wehave not spoken. This is that the objectsfashioned at this period, while differinggreatly among themselves, have yet a com-mon characteristic : they were designed withthe sole intention of discovering forms towhich the metal most easily adapts itself,and which, furthermore, are suited to theproposed use of the object. Neither formsnor decoration were borrowed from anyallied art. They are peculiar to work inthe precious metals. They are excellent.

It might appear that to reserve for each



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THE SILVIXRSMITHS ARTart the forms peculiar to it would be a sim-ple matter. In fact, nothing is more rare.The arts incessantly borrow from alliedarts, and the things borrowed, for the mostpart, bring misfortune. They seek to ap-propriate to themselves foreign and hostileforms. For example, wooden furniture haslong imitated architecture. Our dressersand buffets boastfully display l ines whichwere created for architecture pure and sim-ple, and architecture in stone only. Inverse-ly, at a certain period of the Renascence,the fayade of palaces imitated the fronts ofcoffers. Stone was treated like wood.

In work in the precious metals, the sameconditions have obtained. Beginning withthe thirteenth century, this art borrowedalso forms from architecture. We shall seeappear in objects wrought from metal thepointed arches, the pinnacles, the sculp-tured gables peculiar to the Gothic style.Even entire monuments wil l be imitated.We shall have dwarf chapels and miniaturechurches, the whole wrought with rcmark-able skill and delicacy. But therein laythe danger. Th e art of the srnith in pre-cious metals departed from the rules whichhad governed it up to that time, renderingit so beautiful throughout the twelfth cent-ury. J t was about to lose its originality.We shall meet with excellent work in thethree closing centuries of the Middle Ages.Rut we shall find no more works as perfectas those which we have already examined.

It is, therefore, the art of the twelfthcentury that the modern craftsman muststudy with the greatest care. For, it isnecessary in all things, to reach primarysources. It is there that we find the purestand clearest water. The work in the pre-cious metals of the twelfth centur_y offers us

the finished types of an art which was thenin all its richness, as also in all its purity.



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WPRIMITIVE INVENTIONS

(;I~:oI{(;I~:\II.\I:Ios1.\3ll~S

tliiii :qp of t IlC paht mtln-atdi tlic asxiit of mm froiii hrlxuhii tocivilizntioli, lio\v filsciiiatiiig tlic, 0cT~i~x~t ion\VOUl(l h ! .,l:spcw.l1y WOUl~l 0111 lwc~llchtitttcrcst, It0 :LrOUSctl at tllOSC C~~JOCll-lllil!iillglpcriotls iii \vliicli sonic 51ii:~ll hilt iiiiportanttliscovery \vi~s on tlw I-crp of Iwing ~~i:ttlc;\vllc,ll lltllllilllit~ IVits stultllJlitJ~ fOWV;LJYl SOlllCgreat fwt, that. otlcc scixcd, w:15 to rc~wlwtioilixo future IlldhOdS. l\llO wo~.tltl JlOtclcliglit iJJ SllCll OCCU~JiltiOtl, IVCJY! IlC :LlJlC t0t&C with hilli into tliosc dark days tlic lightof prlt thy ltnowledge ?

I-IOn- did 111CJJ iJlWJlt fiJC \VhCJl, IVhCJY?:lJld 1lOW &Cl th!g first 11t:lkC :Ulv killtl Ofclotliin~r or IK~us~?h I n&r wlmt. circun-StaIJCW did thy fdliOJ1 tltC first WW[JOll?IVlicJi consciously grind corn ? IVcaw has-kC!tS? ~hk! IttWJ? rlJl(l tht t~lOUS:Lll~~:LJl( I one otlicr things that tlie little l)ronw\VOlllCJl :LJJd Jllcll hVC hllltkt~ thll t0 l!S i

pmllptcd 1,). s0111c fceli11g, IN, hew not\VIliLt, Working SOlcl?_ fOJ 1liS OWJl illtCtYSt:nitl l)rofit, witliout tliouglit of fin:ulcial re-w:irtl. or tlic Iiiglic~r iiiciteiilcllt of doing(~00~1 o llis fcL1]ons, hlilldl_V gTo~Jed illollg,mcY~llfitic~llt t11:tt IlC cYtllltl stlCCcY~tl wl1crc SllC-((55 11; ul llCYC1 yet l,c~clct lid:~c~~oJiJ~Jlisli~tl

Ill tllc tLJ$S Of ltlllltill~ :111(1 \Vill 111iLJl lliLSill\V;l?_S hCJ1 t11c illv~lltoJ~~t 1lOW WCJY? hisIJrr


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THE CRAFTSMANWe pride ourselves upon our advanced

civilization, and in some things truthfully,if not wisely. But how many of us haveever considered the questions : To what dowe owe our high position among the civil -izations of the world? Where did our civ-il ization come from? Who first gropedthe way out of primitive ignorance, andmade our present methods possible? Some-

one had to begin. The trackless countryis not built over with cities all at once.First, the explorer must go over it; thenfollow the pioneer and colonizer; finally,when everything is known to be reasonablysafe, the multitudes pour in. So it is inthe march of the worlds civilization. Therehave been explorers to blaze the trails, andpioneers to suggest possibili ties, and, inour race struggles, the little brown man126

and woman whom we know as North Amer-ican Indians, have played a noteworthypart. It is high time, therefore, that werecognize this and express our gratitudefor what they have done.

We too often think of our primitivetribes as dull, stolid, unthinking, unimag-inative. Nothing can be farther from thefacts. They are quick-witted, observant,thinking, imaginative, poetic. They setthe ball of progress rolling ; indeed, theyfirst made the ball, then started it and indi-cated its general direction.

Given a Franklin, a J oseph Henry, anda Morse, the work of Edison, Gray, Bell,Marconi and Pupin is possible. But wherewould the second group have begun if thefirst had never been? One mind may in-fluence millions. Stephenson and Fultonchanged the history of the world ; yet theywere only men, not gods: men whose brainsweighed but an infinitesimal fraction morethan those of other men.

It is to the Indian that we owe the begin-nings of the things we have carried to agreater or less degree of perfection. Theywere the original inventors, the suggestors,the imaginators (if I may coin an ex-pression). We, the highly cultured andcivil ized, are the followers; they the lead-ers. We reap the rewards in the fields theygrubbed, plowed, harrowed and sowed. Asecond crop is easy, when the first hard workof clearing is done. So, whi le we compla-cently boast of the crops we now reap, letus not forget the day when our fields werewild swamps, rugged mountain slopes, ordensely covered forest-growths. And inremembering, let us give due thanks to thelong-ago aboriginal toiler, who, uncon-sciously working to improve his own condi-



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PRIMITIVE INTENTIONStion, unconsciously worked to improve oursalso.

This upward impulse is one of the mostremarkable facts of all life. Onward,ever onward ! Cpward, ever upward ! thehidden impulse urges, and the races havebeen compelled to obey. Necessity mayhave been the spur. That matters not.Something kept urging, and we are whatwe are to-day because of it, and because thelittle bronze man and woman obeyed imper-ative commands from some high and un-known power.

It must have been in the early days ofthe race that a vehicle for carrying wasfirst discovered. The birds nest, the tan-gled vines, the spiders web,-who knows?-may have suggested to the undevelopedmind of the early woman of the race thefirst net or basket, and aroused in her thedesire to construct something that shouldenable her to carry many small things to-gether. The desire awakened, she wasforced to carry it out. How? What ma-terial could she use? What shape follow?At the very outset she was, by necessity, anadapter, an inventor. So she set to work,trying a variety of materials, experiment-ing again and again, until she found whatshe judged to be the best. And now wehave learned that those native materialswhich she judged best for construct.ivepurposes, modern science has accepted ashaving no superiors. Rapidly lookingover the field of the Indian basket-maker ofto-day, we find that she has tested everyavailable material. She has covered theground most thoroughly. The splint ofwillow, cedarbark, spruce-root, yucca-fiber,ash, hickory, slough-root, tule-root, corn-husk, squaw-grass, maiden-hair fern stem,

red-bud, and a thousand and one other veg-etable growths cause the student to wonderat the wide reach of the Amerinds knowl-edge of materials. There is nothing thatshe has left untested. Every possible arti-cle has been tried and proven.

Having obtained the best possible mate-rial, the primitive woman proceeded to theinvention of forms. Here Nature was herteacher. The primitive art-instinct is to imi-

tate. The eyes fall upon some object thatis pleasing. The object arouses a desire tocopy it. True art inspiration can be bestobtained in Nature. All the great mastersof our later times have returned to thegreat source of li fe. Cloister-fed fanciesmay have pleased cloister-trained minds,but the great world has never been movedby anything but that which has been in-spired by Nature. It is one touch of



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by changing the order of intersection ofthe splints ; she passed to the net weave,with its infinitude of changes; the plait orbraid with its great diversity; the coil withits score or more of varieties; the web withits endless series of modifications. Indeed, itmay confidently be said that thcrc is not asingle stitch or weave known to modern art,made with loom however complicated, thatthe Indian woman did not invent, and hnsnot had in actual LISCor centuries. Is shenot, then, entitled to our esteem and grati-tude for her accomplishments in this dircc-t,ion, for what, would the man of to-day bewithout his textiles varied? He is indebtedto the Indian woman, as to other invcnt,orsof primitive times, for that which


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THE CRAFTSMANsand and clay, in order to prevent it fromcracking, and then threw into it a handfulof corn and a scattering of live coals.

Blowing into the basket, she kept the con-tents whirling by a circular motion of thehands, until the corn was properly parched.Finally, with a destrous swing, the cornand coals were separated; the latter wasthroll n out, and the parched corn remained.

In due process of time the clay lining,under such treatment, hardens, bakes, andseparates itself from the basket. Whatmust have been the thought of the firstIndian corn parcher when she found a newand convenient vessel, made without thelabor of weaving, shaped and perfect ather hands, ready for carrying water oranything else that she chose to place there-in? That was a triumph of accidental130

invention. But scientific research hasshown that, voluntarily, for centuries,aboriginal pot.tery was made in basket ornet moulds, and I have myself seen theZuhi, Laguna, Hopi, Navaho, Acoma andotlicr Indian potters, coil ing the clay inropes in exact imitation of their method ofmaking basketry.

But now let us briefly return to tex-tiles. Before skins were dressed, theywere used for clothing: first, undoubtedly,in their rude entirety, afterward subjectedto some process of cutting, and shaping tothe body of the wearer. But this assumesthe skins to be of a size large enough tobe so used. What of the skins of smalleranimals, such as the gopher, beaver, rabbit,raccoon , etc? These are too small forgarments. Something was necessary tomake them broadly useful. So the wits ofthe primitive inventors were set to work,and how slowly or how rapidly the ideacame we do not know, but, eventually, wefind the aborigine taking the small skins,and selving or tying them together until hehad a long rope; then, on a crude frame,actually weaving them into a blanket, suchas that worn by the Mohave Indian inFig. 5.

Later came the spinning and weaving ofvegetable fibre, and what a memorial weowe to the long forgotten, if ever known,discoverers of these processes! My hearthas often thrill ed at the sight of the greatmonuments of the world erected in honor ofthe slayers of mankind, our warriors; andI have silently shed tears as I have watchedloving hands strew the graves of unknownsoldiers with flowers. But now when I seethe mausoleums, triumphal arches, columns,statues, memorial bronzes, I say to myself:



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How unjust, how foolish is mankind!Scores of monuments to the slayers of men,and nothing but curses and anathemas forthe busy-minded inventors of the arts ofpeace. If we must honor the slayers, byno means let us forget the conserver oflife.

How did the primitive spinner work?Watch him to-day. He is a Navaho,-he or his wife, sometimes one, sometimes theother. The .proccss followed is the primi-tive one invented in the dawn of history.The Navaho and his neighbor, the Hopi,grew and spun cotton long before a whitemans dreams saw a passage to India byway of the North West. When Spanishcolonization began, and sheep were brought

into this Western world, three hundred ormore years ago, Hopi and Navaho werequick to see the advantage the long, finewool staple had over the fibre of the cotton.But originally it was yucca-fibrc and cot-ton. And the spinning wheel? See it b_vthe side of the Navaho in Fig. 6. It is asmooth stick on which a circular disc ofwood is fastened. It is held in the left handand rapidly twir led on the knee, with thecotton or wool in the right hand; so thatthe yarn can be stretched to the requiredthickness.

Everything is now read?; for the wcav-ing. The loom on which the skin blanket,already described was made, was, perhaps,the most primitive of all. It is still in



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THE CRAFTSMANUSC by hcveral tribes of IlldiiulS of theSoutllwcst. It consists of four pegsdriven into the ground to liol~l the fourcorners of tlw article to bc woven, an dcomplctcly around thcsc one strand of theskin rope i3 tiglltly stretched. This formsthe cdgc for sides, top and bottom, andtllC tO]r) :Llld l~OttOll1 StriLlldS nlS0


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THE CRAFTSMANpurpose at the bottom. The rawhideabove serves to draw the threads tight, andwhen thus fixed, the loom is ready for theweaver. (See Fig. 7.)

With her different shuttles of yarnshe sits on the ground, tailor fashion, and,thrusting a stick through the warp, dividesthe cords, so that she. can run throughthem without delay the different threads ofthe wool. The shuttle is a simple piece

of stick, on the end of which the yarn hasbeen wound. As soon as the thread isplaced in position, a batten stick (which,like the woof stick, is always kept in thewarp) is brought down with such greatforce as to wedge the thread into a firm andclose position. And thus every thread isbattened down witb such energy thatone does not wonder to find the blanket134

when finished, impervious to the heaviestrains.

Of the invention of designs for Indianblanketry, basketry and pottery I hope towri te later. The subject is one of greatfascination and the more it is studied themore does it revolutionize many of ourideas regarding the development of t,hcaesthetic faculties.

The popular conception of the Indianis that the man, the buck, is a monarch,rude and savage, and the wotnan, the squaw,is a slave, abject and servile. Like so manyother popular conceptions based uponignorance or superficial observation, this isan error. Almost without exception, thehigher class of explorers, Livingstone,Speke, Burton, and others, tell of the free-dom and equality of the primitive woman.The general error seems to have had its birthand growth from the failure of earlywri ters to recognize the fact that amongthe Indians a distinct division of labor wasinvariably observed, and that neither sexever intruded upon the work of the other.

Even to-day misunderstandings of thischaracter are constantly liable to arise.Suppose a person unacquainted with thecustoms of the Hopi to have witnessed thescene pictured in Fig. 8. Here a score ofwomen arc seen engaged in building ahouse. J hey mix their own mortar,gi ~tl l W or quarry their own stones, aretheir own hod carriers, and neither seek norespect the slightest help from the men,-who sit calmly smoking near them. Withsuch a scene before him, the unacquaintedobserver would grow angry at the indolenceof the men, and their brutality in compel-ling their women to do such hard workwhile they sit idly by.



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PRIM ITIVX [NVENTIOSSBut this would be a waste of sympathy,

and a clear evidence of the observers igno-rance. Hopi women, in building theirhouses, do not desire aid from the men.The women are the owners of the domiciles ;therefore, what more natural than thatthey shall build them?

sonian Institute,illustrated articlevalue.

This very act of house-building is aproof of the Hopi womans equality withher husband, and, possibly, her superiorityover him. For within the walls of thehouse she is supreme. Except the per-sonal, ceremonial, hunting and war be-longings of her husband, everythingbrought within belongs to her, or is underher control. Even the corn of the field,planted and gathered by her husband, onceput into the corn-storage room, is nolonger at his disposal.

The food having been carried home, itwas necessary for it to be prepared ; andhere was large scope for the exercise of theprimitive inventors faculties. How wascorn to be ground? How cooked? Howpreserved? Aboriginal woman was thefirst miller. She took a flat slab of rock,

With the neighboring nomad Navahothe same equality of the sexes obtains, andI can imagine the laugh of scorn that aperson would meet, who would question theHopi or Navaho woman as to her degradedand subordinate position.Among the aborigines, the sex divisionof labor was instituted according to thelaw of natural selection of work ; woman,the home-maker, the child-bearer, remain-ing behind, while the men went abroad tohunt or to make war. Fig. 11. Wallspai wcman with mortar made from lav&

As the food provider, the Indian womanhas always been the beast of burden. Shehas not only been compelled to find thefood, but also to transport it to her home(to this the results of the chase are themain exception, woman never having beena hunter). For methods of transportationalone we owe many valuable inventions toprimitive women, and bearing upon thissubject, Professor Mason of the Smith-

sloped it to a convenient angle, took asmaller slab to act as a grinding stone, and,placing the corn between the two, rubbedthe one rock over the other, until the grainbecame meal. Every Indian of the South-west to-day uses these primitive mills, asseen in Fig. 9.

Some grains were found unfitted forgrinding. They were better crushed bypounding, and the Indian women invented

has written a lengthyof great interest and



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the mortar and pestle. Many of themortars still in use are made from treetrunks cut off near the root and hollowedout, so that the gnarled twistings at thebottom form a solid pounding base. (SeeFig. 10.) Later, mortars were cut out ofsolid rock. (See Fig. 11.) The processwas slow and laborious, and a well preparedmortar meant the hard work of manymonths. On Santa Catalina I sland, justoff the coast of Southern California, aprimitive quarry of these mortars wasrecently discovered. The material is akind of soap-stone, and bears the marksof the excavation of many mortars. Otherswere in the process of removal at the timeof the abandonment of the quarry. If onecould draw back the veil of the past, whatinteresting disclosures might this aban-doned quarry reveal ! Was it war or pesti-

THE CRAFTSMANlence that moved the quarriers and left,their work uncompleted? Did they startto cross. to the main land in their frailboats, and meet death in some suddenstorm? Alas, we can only conjecture, forthere is no record to tell us how this changecame about.

The food ground, how must it be cooked?Here primitive woman had to use her facul-ties, and she became an adept at broiling,boil ing, steaming and baking. Althoughstill without pottery or metal utensils, theIndian wroman of to-day boils water in abasket, heating it far more quickly thancan be done by the means of gas stove orelectrical apparatus. At her camp fireshe always keeps a number of fair sizedstones, and close by is her basket full ofwater. As soon as the stones are heatedthoroughly, she takes a stick with a loop at one end, and, with a dextrous twist, picksup one of the stones upon the loop andthrows it into the basket. As long as itsizzles, she stirs it to keep it from burn-ing the bottom of the basket. When it iscooled, it is rapidly jerked out and an-other hot stone takes its place. In thisway the water is made to boil quickly.Many times I have seen acorn and othermush cooked in this way; the hot stonesbeing stirred into the food until i t wasthoroughly cooked. (See Fig. 12.)

Even in the inventions of necessary toiletarticles, the primitive woman has had hershare. As we use the delicately scentedLubins or Pearss soap, we are not liable tobe grateful to the greasy li ttle primitivewoman of long centuries ago.

Fig: 11% A Southern California stone mortar withbasket hopper

But we are so indebted. I t was she, notour refined ancestors, who invented soap.They have invented new methods of pre-

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PRIMITIVEparing it, but the finest and best soap madeeven to-day, is the same as that which wasprepared by the bronze woman of the wilds.She took the root of the amole (a speciesof yucca), bruised and macerated it, and

Fig. 12. Indian wcmnn boiling water in a basket

then beat it up and down in her bowl ofwater. She thus made better, sweeter andmore agreeable soap than comes from theFrench or English perfumer of reputation.

CNVENTIONSI have thus rapidly outlined a few of the

things which we owe to primitive woman.The list might be lengthened ten times. Ihave said nothing of the instruments formaking fire, the hand dril l, the making ofskin and birch bark canoes and other ves-sels, the work in metals, the taming of wildanimals, the cultivation of plants, the dis-covery of medicines and of their methods ofapplication.

But even with these things the list wouldbe inadequate. The inventiveness of theprimitive woman was never more wonder-fully shown than in religion and philos-OPhY* She devised a system of religion toaccount for all the fearful phenomena thatshe observed. She was the inventor of thestory-telling art, and, indeed, the firstteacher of language. She excelled in theart of representing human thought by pic-ture-writing, out of which the alphabet wasslowly developed. Therefore, it is not toomuch to say that we owe a vast amountof gratitude to the ignored women ofthe dawn of history. I f, in future, we findourselves unable to speak a good word forthe Indian, our American representative ofa primitive race, we shall no longer be ableto plead ignorance. We shall at leasthave awakened our senses, that we maybetter judge.

BY BEHOLDING TRUE BEAUTY WITH THE EYE OF THE MIND, WEWILL BE ENABLED TO BRING FORTH NOT IMAGES, BUT REALTIES,AND BRINGING FORTH AND NOURISHING TRUE VIRTUES, TO BECOMETHE FRIENDS OF GOD.

PLATO

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WAS JESUS A CARPENTER?ImSbsTIlOSBY

J ?SUS is usually said to have been acarpenter. This assertion is basedchiefly upon a single passage in theGospel of St. Mark (vi, 3), wherethe people listening to his prfnching in thesynagogue in his own country, were as-tonished and cried : What is the wisdomthat is given unto this man, and what meansuch mighty works wrought by his hands ?Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?Taken by itself this text is by no meansdecisive, for it is not a statement that J esuswas a carpenter, but merely that his audi-tors called him such, and they might havebeen mistaken or inaccurate. If we turnto the parallel passage in the Gospel of St.Matthew, we find an almost identical accountof the same episode. And coming intohis own country he taught them in theirsynagogue, insomuch that they were aston-ished, and said, Whence hath this man thiswisdom and these mighty works? Is notthis the carpenters son? is not his mothercalled Mary? (Mat. xiii , 54-5.) The twophrases, Is not this the carpenter? andIs not this the carpenters son? are clear-ly variations of what was historically asingle question, and in the original Greekthey are equally similar: oirx otr& icr~rv 6r&wv; and 06x otrds ~UTLV 70; r&ovos v i & .Th e people evidently made one of theseremarks and not the other, and the differ-ence is due to the error of one of the re-corders. Which version is the more likelyto be correct? It is impossible for us to138

determine, but it is at least just as prob-able that the designation of carpenterwas applied to his father as to himself, andwe must still consider the question of hiscalling an open one. There is a passagein the Gospel of St. J ohn which seems tohave been derived from the same source,and it reads as follows: And they said,Is not this J esus, the son of J oseph, whosefather and mother we know ? Here thewords, the son of J oseph, might be re-garded as a paraphrase of the words, thecarpenters son, which would make thisreading of St. Matthews appear to be themost authentic, and if this conclusion becorrect, all proof of the fact that J esuswas a carpenter would disappear from theGospels.

The word &TWV which is correctly trans-lated in our versions of the New Testamentas carpenter, has etymologically a some-what broader meaning, denoting any kindof craftsman, the same root appearing inour word architect, which comes from theGreek +XL&TWV, a master-craftsman. Inthe time of J esus it undoubtedly designatedany worker in wood,-cabinet-maker, wood-carver, or builder as the case might be,-but it must be borne in mind that practi-cally all the houses of Palestine were builtof stone, that material being very plentiful,while timber was rare. J ustin Martyr, wholived in the second century, refers in hisDialogue with Trypho to the trade ofJ esus. And when J esus came to the J or-



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dan, he says, he was considered to be theson of J oseph the carpenter, . . . and hewas deemed a carpenter (for he was in thehabit of working as a carpenter whenamong men, making ploughs and yokes;by which he taught the symbols of right-eousness and an active life). (Chapter88.) In the absence of other confirmatoryevidence this passage does not seem to beconclusive. The phrase he was deemed acarpenter, suggests uncertainty on thepart of the writer, and the imputation ofsymbolism to the mechanical work of J esushas a certain fantastic air which would tendto classify the story with the legends of theapocryphal Gospels. The four canonicalEvangelists make no further allusion to histrade or occupation. They pass over hisli fe from his early infancy until his thir-tieth year, in a few words, and it does notappear that during the period of his min-istry he engaged in any manual labor, or atany rate if he did, the fact is not mentioned.

Let us turn from these unsatisfactoryproofs to the internal evidence afforded bvthe words of J esus himself. His discourses,conversations and observations have beenpreserved in great fullness as recorded byvarious hearers, and we may be sure thatwe have a quite complete compendium ofhis entire thought as expressed in language.Let us examine the Gospels and read hissayings with the hope of extracting fromthem some hints of the work which he wasaccustomed to perform, day after day, dur-ing his youth and early manhood. Andwe are surprised first of all not to find asingle word which points to either car-pentry or to any handicraft whatever.He shows deep familiarity with almostevery other phase of life: domestic, com-

mercial, professional, agricultural ; for noman ever entered more fully into the dailyroutine of existence around him and re-flected it more vividly in his every utter-ance. How often he may have seen hismother hide the leaven in three measures ofmeal! and how clearly the use of the defi-nite number three gives the color of anactual experience to the parable! _4nd sohe speaks of two women grinding, andwe find the same precision in the story ofthe man who comes to his neighbors houseat midnight, and cries: Friend, lend methree loaves, for a friend of mine is come tome from a journey, and I have nothing toset before him. J esus had seen childrenasking their fathers for bread, and he takest,his commonest of foods as a symbol ofhimself: I am the bread of li fe. Hespeaks famil iarly of the household suppliesand articles : of salt, and candles and bushel-measures; of the mending of clothes andthe washing of cups and platters ; and whenhe tells us of the woman who called in herfriends to rejoice with her after she hadfound the lost piece of silver, we may wellsuppose that he is recalling some actualevent. Nothing in the home li fe of his ownfamily or of his friends escaped him, andall that he observed was impressed upon hismind so that he could use it as occasionoRered in parable and metaphor.

He shows an acquaintance also with themercantile li fe of towns; he tells of themerchant seeking pearls, of bankers andmoney-lenders and usurers, and he knows theprice of sparrows in the market: Are nottwo sparrows sold for a farthing? (Mat.x, 29.) Are not five sparrows sold fortwo farthings? (Luke xii, 6.) He speaksof judges and officers of the law, and of



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THE CRAFTSMANphysicians. He has seen children playingin the market-place, and Pharisees prayingat the street corners and in the Temple, andhe remembers the details of feasts andweddings, the order of the guests at table,and the style of garment required. Hecan use for il lustration the sepulchres onthe hil lside, the wars of kings of which hehas read, or the latest tale of robbery,either of the highwayman or of the burglarwho breaks through (or rather digsthrough), and steals.

But of all this nothing seems as yet tosuggest a regular occupation on the partof J esus. Such call ings as have been re-ferred to by him so far are evidently lookedat from the outside. The references arethose of an observer and not of an actor.When we turn however to his allusions tothe rural world of corn-field and vineyardand sheepfold, we seem to enter a new rc-gion of which he speaks with the technicalknowledge of an expert. With what par-ticularity he details t.he incidents of thesowers days work! Nothing could bemore certain than that J esus had oftensown seed himself and seen the birds devourthat which fell by the wayside, and hadwatched the fortunes of the crop from dayto day, and noted how the sun scorched theblades which came up in rocky places, be-cause they had no deepness of earth, andhow they withered away, because they hadno root, and how the thorns choked theseed that fell among them. And he knewexactly how much that which fell in goodground should yield: some a hundredfold,some sixty, some thirty. When taresgrow in a field, he was aware that it is bestnot to attempt to root them out, but to w-aituntil the harvest and then to say to the140

reapers : Gather up first the tares, and bindthem in bundles and burn them; but gatherthe wheat into my barn. And he hadoften watched with wonder the miracle ofthe growth of grain, which, while the farm-er goes about his duties, springs up andgrows, he know&h not how. And he hadfolio\ \ rcl the fate of the grass of the field,which to-day is, uud to-morrow is cast intothe oveu as fuel. He knows that themustard-seed is the smallest of seeds, andhe has seen the birds light in the branchesof the tree which springs from it. He hasremarked the fowls of the air, and theirnests: the sparrows, the eagles feeding oncarrion, the fox and his hole, and the li ly ofthe field. He has lived out of door andstudied the action of sun and rain andlightning: he knows that a cloud rising inthe West portends a shower, and a southwind scorching heat, and that when the fig-trees shoot forth, summer is nigh at hand.He has seen oxen and asses watered on theSabbath, and has probably done it himself.They are loosed from the stall and ledaway to watering. Hc is conversant withthe custom which, when the servant comesin from plowing, requires him first to pre-pare his masters supper. J esus knows wellthe great estates of the rich with theirstewards and overseers, and it is such prod-ucts of husbandry as oil and wheat whichformed the debts reduced by the unjuststeward. He knows well the rich man whobuilds great barns and fills them with hiscrops, when his soul is required of him.Country sights of all kinds furnish himwith ready images: the man who puts hishand to the plough and turns back, thetreasure found in the field, the ox or theass fallen into the well. He appears also



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to have had some knowledge of fishing, andof the way in which the fishermen draw thenet up on the beach, and throw away thebad fish while they g&her the good intovcsscls, and when he advises Peter at theirfirst meeting where to cast his net, the resultis successful.

No less marked is the familiarity of.J csus with fruit-culture. A fig-tree whichh;ls not borne fruit for several years mustbc diggcd about and ferti lized. A goodtree brings forth good fruit, and a corrupttree evil fruit, and the latter must be hewndown. 3lcn do not gather grapes of thornsnor figs of thistles. J esus knows how labor-crs are hired in the marketplace to work invineyards, and how a man employs his own~011s n such work, and hc tells a parable ofa houscl~older who planted a vineyard andset a hedge about it, and diggcd a wine-pressin it, and built a tower, and Ict it out toIlllSh~ltlIll~ll. Iie likens himself to a vine.\ inc-branches that bear no fruit are takenaway, while those that bear are cleansed sothat thcv may bear more, and the witheredInxnchcs are burned. The new wine mustbe put into new lcathcrn bottles, as it wouldburst old bottles.

J esus also shows special knowledge ofthe duties of :L shcphcrd. A sheep may belifted out of a pit on the Sabbath. He ishimself the good shcphcrd. The port,er ofthe sheepfold opens the door to the shep-herd, but the robber climbs up some otherwa.v. Ihc sheep recognize their shepherdsvoice, and he calls them by name and leadsthem out. When he has brought out allhis own sheep, leaving behind those of theother shepherds, he goes before them andthey follow him, for they know his voice.Hut they wil l flee from a stranger, because

they do not know his voice. He likens him-self, too, to the door of the fold. The goodshcphcrd gives his li fo for the sheep, ifthey are his own sheep, but a mcrc hirelingruns away from the wolf, and the wolfsnatches them and scatters tlicni. Whenthe owner of an hundred sheep loses one, heleaves all the rest and scar&s for the lostone in the mount~:~ns until lit fintls it, andthen lie rcjoiccs orcr it more tllan over theother ninety-nine. J esus sends his disci-ples forth as sheep in the midst of wolves,and he warns them against false prophetswhich conic in S~~CC~Slothing, but inward-ly arc rarcriing ~01~3, and hc tells bonshepherds scparatc the sheep from thegoats.

We have now given a fairly complctc&szLrncIof the rcfcrcnccs which J esus makesto the popular li fe around him. It is won-derful what a living picture wc can con-struct from it of the socict,y of his time.Only one feature is absent,-almost totallyabsent,-and that is any hint of craftsmnn-ship of any kind. In one place hc spcnksof the two men who built liouscs on the rockand on the sand, but llot a single detail ofthe construction is given. It is the fall ofthe house on the sand which is dcscribccl,and how t,hc rain descended and the floodscame and the wind blcn and smote uponthat house. All his attention is fiscd onthe work of nature. In nnothcr place hetells of the building of a tower, but he onlyrefers to it for the purpose of dwelling uponthe necessity of counting the cost brforc-hand, lest it bc left unflnishrd. It is ccr-tainly astounding that whatever his occu-pation, J esus never alludes to the work ofan artificer. A carpenters trade offers al-most as many opportunities for parable and



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come is that J esus was not a carpenter, and been preEminent as craftsmen, for whichthat if his father ever was one, he had ceased fact the proscription of graven images mayto ply his trade before J esus was old enough be in part responsible, and the idea of joyto pay attention to his work; for otherwise in work, as presented by Ruskin and Rlor-the early impressions of the craft would ris is peculiarly Western and modern. Thathave impressed themselves upon his mind. J esus was an artist from the literary pointThe tradition, in fact is, that J oseph was a of view, no one who reads the parable of thevery old man and that he died while J esus Prodigal Son can doubt, but in the worldwas still a lad. It seems pretty certain on of the senses it was nature, and not art, thatthe other hand that J esus had earned his attracted him. He had no taste for crafts-living in agriculture, vine-dressing and manship, and it is altogether unlikely thatsheep-raising, so that not only were a11 the lie ever was a craftsman. From his cradledetails of these occupations at his fingers in the manger of the oxen to his tomb in aends, but they afforded him with the rich garden ( K+ S, orchard or plantation),stock of illustrations upon which he was his life savored of the soil and of its pri-accustomed to draw. The J ews have never mary and essential travail.

AFD THE INDIVIDUAL IN WHOM SI31PLE TASTES L4ND SUSCEPTI-BIL ITY TO AIJ , THE GREAT HUMAN INFLUESCES, O\ ~I:RPOWER TfIEACCIDESTS OF A LOCAI, AND SPECIAL CULTURE, IS TIIE BEST CRITICOF ART. THOUGH WE TRAVEL THE WORLD OVER TO FIXD THE BEAU-TIFIX. WI, MUST CARRY IT WITH US, OR WE FIRD IT NOT.



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JAPANESE BOOK ILLUSTRATIONSI..lX)NlI:AD

W E should not judge Japanrsrpictures solely by our ownc>Iln011s. To understand whatJapanrse art means me shouldknow something of the national spirit ofthe people, their tcmpcramcnt, their cus-toms, their tl~ilditiOllS ; for their great paint-01s I& C:LJ-VCPS :tlld CJ-:lftS~~l~Jl hZLVC pllt dthe and nJuclJ lnorr into their work. Thehistory of Japan may bc said to be per-petuated in her works of art ; and amongthe lat,tcr may be classed de luxe books-made chicfly for rich foreigners, as theaverage native cannot afford them. Cer-tain wealthy J~L~:LJWW savants, however,have special books, with fine illustrations,made for their libraries.

They possess in Japan the skill and facil-ities to turn out exquisite vellum editions.Sylography has ma& giant, strides there,and their colortype printing, done by handon crtpe paper, is rich and glowing ineffect--&lost like embossed enamels. Thereproductions here presented of course giveno i&a of the brilliant color schemes oftheir originals, which as specimens of artis-tic illustration, however, do not belong tothe highest class. They may serve to sug-gest the general merit of the works that aresold to foreigners as souvenir volumes atmoderate prices. The de Zu x e editions havefar more delicate tints and elaborate con-trasts, not to say embellishments, and muchdecorative gold work, like some of the medi-eval missals of Europe.144

;\lany of these souvenir books are merelya series of pictures, without any test, esccpta few explanatory words in ~Japancse on thrtnargins. They usually give a pictorialversion of some popular old legend or cclc-brat,e the exploits of some Shinto god 01historic hero. Tile Buddhist ili~thologg isalso often rcpresentcd, but artists now:~d:~~sflrc leaving such lore nlonc; as Buddhism isunder the ban of the government.

Formerly, painting lvits not considered avocation by itself in Japan, but a branch ofdecorative art. For this reason sonic of theforemost artists in the Land of the RisingSun never attcml)tctl an ambitious suh.jecton canvas, but painted birds and flowers onchina and porcelain, or quaint designs onlacquer, or executed superb carvings 011ivory. The artistic bent of others was es-crciscd in the work of painting pictures onpaper-lanterns, fans, parasols and screens,or in weaving gorgeous brocaded silks andpriceless tapestries and mats.

About one hundred years ago such art-tists as HGJen, Tusei and Hokusai beganto break away from the trammels of the oldschools and conventions, and to take upfree-hand drawing. This was intended tobe a popular art and of necessity economywas an important factor; therefore, theprocess of printing with color blocks wasevolved. Pour printings in the hands ofan expert workman arc all that is necessaryto produce color combinations of the ut-most subtlety and power. To the Occi-



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J APANESE BOOKdental mind the crudeness of the process isstartling, and to those who are familiarwith machine processes, possibly appall ing.Imagine an engraver with a piece ofcherry plank, on the flat side of the samecarving, with the utmost precision, lines

ILLUSTRATIONSonly the trained skill of the printer as ameans of register, are produced these printswhich rank in the art world in the sameplane with the etchings of Rembrandt.

Prior to Korin the art of the J apanesewas essentially classic and a continuation

the most comprehensive that the art of the of the conventions brought to their coun-world has ever seen, with a J apanese jack- try by the Chinese, through the medium ofknife. This process includes what is their Buddhist Priests. I t was character-known as the black or outline block, and ized by extreme angularity of form, rigidothers which carry the different colors to conventions and symbolism of an involvedbe printed each over the other. Then with and pronounced type. With the adventthe combination of the simplest possible of Korin, who was the first master andcolors mixed with a little rice paste, and greatest influence in the li fe and art of



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THE CRAFTSMANHokusai, came the response to a demand Great art is in no sense psychologicallyfor a popular art; the old being done en- narrow or insular. I t is not impossible fortirely at the request of Shogun and his Western artists to absorb the essence ofnoble associates. J apanese art. Moreover, certain J apan-

The Ukioye, or Floating World, had ese artists, such as Genjiro Geto, who havethen its origin in Korin, from whom came studied in this country and Europe, havean artistic descent of most illustrious mas- shown a quick aptitude in acquiring the

ters. Among these may be mentioned: essential details of the three chief schoolsHokusai, Toyokuni, Kunasada and Hiro- of Occidental art. Many, too, have soughtshisi, with whom color printing, as a great to combine the features that distinguish theart, perished in the middle of the last best works of J apanese and of Westerncentury; there being at the present time painters; but the results thus obtained arestrenuous but tentative efforts on the part hybrid and promise no supreme achieve-of the Imperial Government to revive it. ments. The J apanese would better con-I l.6



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.J APANESE BOOK ILLUSTRATIONSfine themselves to their own style and nottry to blend with it an exotic taste; or ifthey prefer Western ideals and methods,they would better follow them exclusively.

The range of J apanese subjects for thebrush, for wash drawings, for dry point

they exaggerate those features which theythink make for beauty. For instance, theyregard a long nose as aristocratic, a sign ofhigh birth ; hence they make long noses intheir pictures, although, as everyone isaware, the people have short, stubby noses.

etchings, etc., is not wider than their treat-ment. In dramatic painting, amazing ver-satility is evinced. Human violence is oneof their favorite themes. In painting windstorms-typhoons, as they are called in theOrient-the J apanese are not equaled byWestern painters. To American eyes theirportraits are little short of caricatures ; for

I f you have studied at first hand thecharacteristics of the J apanese, you are bet-ter prepared to judge of their art. I f youknow that as a people they are imaginative,humorous, emotional, aesthetic, and verymuch like children, the mot i fs they intro-duce in their book il lustrations and the ex-pression of their thoughts and fancies in

147



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THE CRAFTSMAN

color have for you a clearer and more seri-ous significance. But even then, at times,from inability to command their point ofview in art, we miss some of the suggestionsof their symbolism.

Only the J apanese temperament cangrasp the ethical or artistic purpose back ofthose pictures which to us seems merelybizarre and elusive in meaning. We laughat their perspectives and their figures,which, according to our ideas, are out ofdrawing. But we must remember that the

J apanese artist purposely avoids what wecall Greek symmetry; that in the irregularline he makes his most effective appeal tothe appreciation of his countrymen. Heinterprets life and nature, illustrates poems,legends and stories from a point of viewinto which enter a thousand convictions andactuations more or less opposed to our own ;though in a final analysis these differencesare found to be merely radiations which aretraceable back to the same source. Onlythe eternal human soul is unresolvable.



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BROWNING'S MESSAGE TO ARTISTSAND CRAFTSMEN OF TO-DAYBY ;E:ORGI:,HhRIOS .J.LMEST E: poet, the prophet, the seer.How often lie writes in one age, farin advance of his time, the peculiar111css:qy2 needed for the nest.

Ihwiiing is gone, hit his mcssagc lives.It hl power ant1 force when lie wrote it.It has grcatcr potency to-day. It is nced-(~1 111oro to-day than then. Hc was notrifler with life :~ntl its duties. He was nounthinking optimist. Hc bch3& in dircct-illg n:ltural inlpulscs, making the most oftllcar, gvttillg tllc best out of them. In(*ffvct, IKB &I, \Ve arc going along wellonly if wc get, well out of our going. WeIIcY~cl lot worrV ilhllt tllc future if wc aredoing our hst now. But let us be sure thatwe arc doing our ht.

Ill iilndrczL dcl Sarto, his great poem011 the f:unltlcss painter, lit prenclies hispow


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THE CRAlTlSMANthe world counts wise. The cry of inabilityin whom the world counts its most able.

Del Sarto knew his ability from theworlds standpoint. He had seen even thecritical world pass sentence on the vulgarmass called his work...Things done, that took the eye and had the price;

Oer which, from level stand,The low world laid its hand,Found straightway to its mind, could value in a

trite.He was no fool. He could truthfully

exclaim :I am bold to say,

I can do with my pencil what I know,What I see, what at bottom of my heartI wish for, if I ever wish so deep-Do easily, too,-when I say, perfectly,I do not boast, perhaps.

He could compare his own work with thatof his compeers. He knew well enough thatwhen the critics praised their work theywere praising his. And there was no boast-ing in recognizing acknowledged facts.

And he knew, too, how easily such mas-terly work flowed from his fingers. It waseasy-there was no effort. It seemed asif everything lent itself to his moods whenwork was to be done. Pigments mixedeasily; the subtlest colors came withoutthought ; brushes obeyed his lightest touch.Other men struggled for years to find theright pigments, and when they thoughtthey had succeeded, weary hours w-ere spentin trying to compel certain color combina-tions which would not come, yet to Andreathese things came without thought, withoutstruggle.I do what many dream of, all their lives,

Dream?-Strive to do, and agonize to do,And fail in doing. I could count twenty suchOn twice your fingers, and not leave this town,

I50

Who strive---Tou dont know how the others striveTo paint a little thing like that.

Coiiscious power ! I do what manydream of . Dream! nay, they strive andagonize to do. You dont know how theothers strive. It is impossible to conceivethe effort, the anguish, the heart-rendingstruggle of some souls to accomplish whatto them is ideal, and yet what to others, tothe Andrea de1 Sartos, comes so easily. Andin that fact the truly humble masters ex-claim with him :

I am judged.There bnrns a truer light of God in them,In their vexed beating stuffed and stopped-up brain,Heart, or whateer else, than goes on to promptThis low-pulsed forthright craftsmans hand of

mine.Yes! he knew that it was aspiration,

longing, souls desire that counted. Aquarter-farthing rushlight kept as fullyaflame as possible was more worthy in thegreat master artists eyes than a two-pennycandle guttered and flaring with charredwick. His hand was that of a forthrightcraftsman, but its pulse was low. It isthe high pulse that counts, the throbbingbrain, the anxious, reaching-out heart, thestraining nerves.

How goes it, brother craftsman of to-day ? Are you a low-pulsed forthrightcraftsman, content with your own achieve-ments ; self contented in the admiringgratulations of those who do not know whatyou feel they ought to know? Are youresting upon something found made, in-stead of reaching out, even though it bethrough acts uncouth, to somethinghigher and better? Rest assured if youare of the self-contented class you will neverknow the joy of soaring heavenward.



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loor r111chl could see that :Thrir works drop groundwnrti, but themselves, I

know,

,411, scs! lhc striving soul cntcrs lica-ven, cvcn tlwugh its acliicvemcnt bc siii2dl.God nic:~surcs by effort, not wwniplisli-111cnt. For :\Vhat is our failure here but a triumphs evidence

For the fullness of the days?\Vhnt I aspired to be,

_.\ntl was not, comforts me.i~~dw:~ knew that tllough his worksWC1c lCRrCr llCAVCl1, 1lC Sat 11crc.Arid whcrc was the joy of hving his

worlds ;~ppro:~cli heaven if lie himself weretied down to earth T The artist is grctttcriL1ld of lllore iinpoihnce tll;lll tile :Lrt. It iskc, tliat ~liould 1x2 iii Iie:~veii, or going tliitli-CTWL~~~, through his art, niitl not his art.soariiig higher than himself.

lhcn that cry of passiouitte admirationfor the suddc~~i Mood of the striving art-ists :lhe sudden Idood of these men ! at a word-lraise them, it I)oils, or I)lame them, it boils too.

llicy live intcnsclp, fiercely, furiously.A word of either praise or blame stirs theblood to frenzy. Thilt is life! That is toal~ound in life ! Oh, for the quick, living,pulsing blood, the pouring stream thatflows, flows swift, fast,, strong.

Andrea knew the difference Irxtween thcrnand himself :

ISlIt hc lackctl tlic firC&, tlic lifcb, the all-id~ounding vigor and tlspiriltion tljat stiithe soul to its tlwpwt, depths and make ifhhighest flights possil~lc. IIC coultl do w11;1the dcsircd, Wllut he willed, but was thiLtcnougl1?

TIlei rc:d his iiiournful criticism of hisfellow pintcrs work. In technique in-pcrfcct, in detail faulty, it pet poss~ss~i tlwgrcatwt qdity of all. As i\ndrc:l couldwe, this iinpcrfcct dr:u~glitsman pouredhis soul out that 1w:1wn might so replcnislihim. An arm litw is wrongly put, thel)OtlJ is \VlWllglY (ll.il\l.ll, hilt,-_;llld ll(xlC iStlic iniportimt poirit,m 4hc soul is righf.Hr swans righ- that, $1child may undtntiud.l

Andrcbil CLOUDSdtcr tile arm and lnakc thehotl_vs lines pwfwt, but all tlit play, theinsight and tlw strddi, tlrc pssion andthe crwtiw power wcrc not in him. PoorL4lltll-ea ! And that power conies done oflow. hc, low, low, lo\0 is the moving,the wwtivc, the godlike power.

I0 tlw Artist and (raftsnw1, I~rowningsliould ever lw an inspiration. His threepoems, iIndrw dcl Snrto, AM Yoglcr andR:rM)i &ii Kxra sliould lw, 1)~ tlrciii, learnedl)y lictwt iL?ld rcdtctl &lily. Like :L coldbath to the body thy toiic rip tlic ncrvcs ofthe soul, quickw the inner pulses iind stini-Iilate tlicin to liiglicr (wleavors, anti I~IC~god-like d~icvcmcnts.



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A NOTE OF COLORH.Ili\.lT I:I,LIS

T I? design for iL I~OIISCof lllotlcr:ltcCOSt, submittctl 1)y Ill(~l.ilftSIll~L11for Novwl1~cr, is intcwclctl simpl)to atlrancc certain ideas :is to tllcuse of color, as color, on tlic crtcrior ofbuildings and, as well, to suggest the tle-sirability of the sun-parlor in the housesof this class.

It is intended that the house slid1 bcbuilt, of run of the kiln stock brick.Upon this brick foundi~tion \vill be placed,in the usual manner, with expanded metallnth, etc., an outer covering 0S ccnlcnt, to belater described. The roof is of tin, p:tintedblack, while the exterior wood-work is white.

At the time of the RCI~:LSCC~~CC, form wasthought to be the chief requisite, and themonotonous gray and yellow structuresbuilt from the sixt.ccnth century down totile present time, while interesting as studiesin proportion and formal composition, h:Lwlittle more vitality than the skeleton of amastodon. In fact, were it not for theaccumulation of the grime which has foundlotlgmcnt in the recesses of the carvings andmouldings, most of them would be 110 moreinteresting to the average observer than aproblcln in Euclid.

In a half-hearted way,

The Craftsman - 1903 - 11 - November

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