find any place allowed him in the world of Art. Nor is that too narrow a view which regards the sculptor's aim as one that seeks to make the niche of the architectural façade, its frieze, its pediment, and its pedestals alive with sculptured imagery. It is a field unlimited in its extent and in its claim for dignity of purpose, second to no other, as is amply proven by the pediments of the Greeks, the Baths of the Romans, and the Porches of the French Cathedrals. In domestic architecture, as it is under the present nomadic condition of life, this subordination of the pictures and sculptures to the architecture of our rooms may still be the dominant principle. These pictures, however diverse, may without detriment to themselves be made subject to order. They may be gathered into balanced groups or be brought into a frieze-like order, in each case giving a severity of arrangement enhancing the aspect of the room and securing its repose. By mere arrangement of this kind an architectural effect1 may be obtained, where there is no architectural treatment beyond a skirting and a cornice. And further, even where objects are constantly being changed, and where this change is always rendered possible, the arrangement should be so defined, that the place or setting of each picture and bust may to all appearances be final. For neither the isolated statue nor the isolated picture, unassociated with any considered arrangement of surroundings, can look well, since neither has that "setting" which each work of Art demands-that appropriateness of setting which determines the mind's attitude, and compels in our approach towards it a respectful dignity.2 1 The natural love of this architectural treatment is emphasized in the common arrangement of a kitchen dresser. 'Among the most artistic people-the Japanese-there are no independent arts, no isolated sculpture or painting; yet all is sculpture and painting, their every touch of beauty is symbolic: every touch, the grace of some service. As to engraving and etching, each of these arts has a fair field in the illustration of literature. They are not sufficiently decorative in themselves, nor can they carry a dignity of treatment sufficient to make them serviceable allies of architecture, as was always understood by such men as Holbein, Durer, and Blake. The place for engraving and etching is in the portfolio or cabinet, and posterity will laugh at our attempt to decorate walls with the Liber Studiorum, or with the Méryon etching. Though not parts of architectural ornament however, these arts must yet follow the same pattern, and what has been said of Sculpture and of Painting, may with equal truth be said of Metal work, of Pottery, of Embroidery, and of Penmanship. For these arts like their kindred arts, when they reach excellence, attain to excellence chiefly because each piece is identified by the designer with some need of service or some need of symbol. This means that each is fashioned after an arbitrary pattern; and only by virtue of such great intention is the art made sister of Architecture and honoured in fellowship with the Fine Arts. By thus thinking of the arts in their family relationship, we shall the more regard their total effect. We shall restrain this one now too dominant, we shall lead that to bolder pronouncement for the whole effect's sake, and so shall we avoid that dread equality of interest, which each object in our house, from the coal scuttle to the restless over-mantel strives to claim and which after all its teazing, we find makes only the monotonous dearth of interest more apparent. The conclusion then that we come to is this; that he alone can be considered an artist whose work is, in the make of it technically right; in the manner of it sensuously beautiful; in the subject of it symbolically interesting: and they alone have the artistic gift, who have also the sense of a guiding principle which makes Art a necessity of their life's order, and a poem of their heart's pleasure. A sense which will show its vigour by avoiding any expenditure of the imagitive faculty either on objects of no service, or on services of no object, and further, by curbing that undirected indulgence which would crowd our surroundings with lumber unredeemed either by fancy or by purpose. And this sense he will most respect, who most respects the dignity of life and at the same time seeks to preserve the nobility of its symbols, by ordering his tabernacle and all the instruments thereof after the pattern shown him in the mount of Life's Sinai! SPRING. Welcome, Spring, too long delayed, Hath fallen, the crocus sends his spear The old man whistles like the boy, He steps out like a sower strong. Summer, with her proud silence and her haze Hath no such kindly wing As thou, bird-hatching Spring. Autumn, with all her boisterous mirth Shaking the red-ripe fruit upon the earth, Shedding the rose-leaves, each eve shedding too From saddening clouds and stars great drops of dew, Hath not the prophet-tongue Like thine, thou ever young, Young as a child, than bride more fair, As a lion in a poet's song. May I then near thee venture, in thy hair A mortal, saintly Margarite. The heedless sheep goes browsing on, To crown the still-inconstant year. But ere thou fliest, blue eyed Spring, Bound by this withy of poesy An offering of thine own flowers to thee. WILLIAM BELL SCOTT. |