The Craftsman - 1909 - 08 - August.pdf

7/27/2019 The Craftsman - 1909 - 08 - August.pdf

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TIFFANY & Co.Tiffany & Co. wish to repeat their recent caution to thepublic that rincs and other articles of jewelry sold else-where as of 1.iffany manufacture cr design are not madeby them, as they ar? retail dealers exclusively and neveremploy ageAs or sell their products through other dealers

Persons, particularly those living at a distance,who are interested in the selection of diamond,pearl, fancy stone and other jewelry, silverware,watches, clocks, bronzes, marbles, china, glass,fancy goods, stationery, etc., are invited to writeTiffany & Co. stating as fully as possible theirrequirements and taste. All such inquiries willhave the immediate attention of a specially or-ganized Correspondence Department, and com-prehensive replies giving prices and full de-scriptions, with photographs when necessary,will be promptly madeThe Tiffany Blue Book, which is a completecatalogue of the stock in compact, indexed form,will be mailed upon request and will be founda helpful guide to intending purchasers. It con-tains no illustrations but gives in alphabeticalorder a brief description of each article with thelimits of prices. These prices, if due considera-tion is given the quality of the goods, will befound notably reasonable and attractiveFifthAvenue 37thStreetNewYork

hmdly mentton The Cral tsmani

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;. _-rv y installing in your home the genuineD Xtaqdtmdbath and lavatory you insure foryotiyqelf the most sanitary, and consequentlythe most healthful bathroom equipment yourmoney can buy. Because of their greaterbeauty and unusual serviceability under allconditions of use, $%utdmd fixtures consti-tute the most practical and most economicalbathroom equipment it is possible to secure.

Let us send you our beautifully illustrated 100-p&e book, Modern Bathrooms.Please enclose fx. postage and give name of your architect and plumber, if selected.

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Address%andavd Sanitam n)@?Co,, Dept. :39, Pittsburgh, Pa,, U. S. A.Offices aid Showrooms. New York: 35-37 W.3lst St. P ittsburgh: 949 PennAve. Boston 712 Paddock Bldg. Chicago 415Ashlsn(lBlock. St. Louis: 100-102 N. Fourth%. Louisvill e 325-329 W. Main&. Phi ladelphia 1128Walnut St. NewOrleans Cor. Baronneend St.J oseph Sts. Cleveland: 648.652 Huron Road, S.E. Toronto. Can.: 59 Richmond St., E. Montreal. Can.: 39 St. Sacrament St.I II ,.

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THECRAFTSMANVOLUME XVI AUGUST. 1909 NUMBER 5

The People Weep . . JUICS ,7tzl lH ichock, Scul ptor FrontispieceThe Value of Outdoor Plays to America . . By M ary Fantov 1iolw t .s 491Throu h the Pageant Shall We Develop a Dramaof Democracy ?I l lustratedThe Gates of Fulfilment . . Bjs M ary Kat her i ne I lvohi is 50Four Walls : A Poem . . . . B3 .-1 leen Clewlan d H igi l i s 509American Artists Whose Vital Work Shows the Inspiration of Native Subject . 510as Seen in the Recent Water Color Exhibit in New YorkI l lustratedColor: A Poem . . . . . . . By .4l larz Updqr t r j j 520SuchrFarms as Dreams Are Made of . . : By .-1 ice Dimnzoor 52 1The People Weep . . . . . . . . . . 5%The Renaissance in Brickwork . . . .How the Modern Product of the Kiln 11 Recovering from the Blight of Perfection: . u 526Lessons to Be learned from the Ancient Brick WorkersZl lust r t r tedThe Building of BerrymountBefore Factory Days . . By Xart ha M cCul l och-12.i I l ial l ls 538The Arts and Crafts Movement in AmericaWork or Play ?Verdure For the City Streets

. By Er nest .4. Btr t i l zcl~c~r 544

How the Municipal Art League Is Working to Beauiify New York . . . 550with Plants and FlowersI l lustratedThe Creation Myth of the Cochans (Yuma Indians)Among the Craftsmen

. By,Satt$io (.:mti.s 559Varied Building Materials Harmoniously Blendedin Two Craftsman Houses:I l lustrated . * * . . . . . . . 568Split Field Stone as a Valuable Aid in Building of AttractiveBungalows and Small Houses . _ . . .I l lustrated 13y ~;harks .-I nt~ $*crs 5 76The Craftsmens GuildPlastic Taxidermy . . . . fA New Method of Mounting Animalr which Insures a Ciose Presentation of. . * 580Life, and which Is at Once an Art and a Craftl l lw t ra tcdThe History and Uses of Keramics . . _ . . . . . 584New Use of Concrete in Garden Ornaments . . . .I l lustrated

PUBLISHED MONTHLY HY GUSTAV STICKLEY, 41 WESI- 34-1-H. Sr., .WF\V YORK,25 Cents a Copy: By the Year, $3.00 in United States; $3.50 in Canada; $4.20 ForeignCowrieht. 1909. by Gustav Sticklry Entered J une 6. 1906. at New York City. as second-&ass matwr

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teachers Qolllege(UoIumbfa IIlnfoerettg)Rew gork

Offers 225 nourses of instruction, including the Theoryand Practice of Teaching Art- Principles of Design-Drawing, Painting and Illustration-Clav Modeling-Design in Construction and Decoration-InteriorDecoration--the History and Appreciation of Art.

JAMES E. RUSSELL, LL.D., DeanARTHUR W.. DOW, Director. Department of Fi ne AR8-

@e vonRydingsvdrdSchool of flrt &loodcarving 9 East Seventeenth St.,Slew Bark aftpOpens for the twentieth 8eason on J anuary Fi rst.schnol ,n the country devoted excluwcly to ,h,s art. TheonlyThorauph.pracucal tra ninr for feacbcra. as well as those fdlowng it fortheir own pIea8un. Classes limited in size. iusurtn~crrcfulpenonal supervisioa Tools supplied in large or small quantbiea.correrrl~ sharpened and of bat Engli sh make: also seta of tools.8&cted for bceinners. For circular addreas

KARL van RYDINGSVjiRD

I Art Students, %r~r$tz=~~~~~~DESI;N. MOL)EL ING. WOODCARVING, CAST andLIF E DRAWING. WATER COLOR, ART EM-BROIDERY.Evening class in COSTUM E DRAWI NG.IOUkG WOMENS CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION7 East 15th St., New York

THENEWYORKSCHOOLOFARTOF TIi PENNSYLVAN IA MU!-EUHBROAD AND PIIiE STREETS, PHILADELPHIAThorough work under trained specialistsin all branches of Fine and industrial Art

2237 Broadway Corner 80th Street Spe+ prov/sio,n for classes in Il lustration. ArChbztun.WINTER TERM

Dg~g~~~mtr~+ and Sculpture. Pottery Metal Work.extie Devgn and Manu acture.

1L. W. MILLER, Princ+l.SEPTEXBBR 7th, 1908.TO JUIVB 1st. 1909(!omPr$ensive Courses in the Pine and Ap lied Art s, Life IPortralt. Composition. Illustration. Norma P Art. Design, I Interior Decoration and the Crafts. AddressSUSAN F. BI SSEL L. Secret- scItooon off Desigrmad Mandicraff u.

ERNEST A. BATCHELDFR. Pasadena. California.A,, I deal bnv,,onme,,t fur Ideal \%.o,..

ART ACADEMYOFCINCINNATIEndowed. Complete Training inArt. Scholarships. Drawing, Paint-ing, Modeling, Composition, Anato-my, Wood Carving, DecorativeDesign applied to porcelain, enamels,metals and leather.PRANK Dr-verirsc~ C. J. RAHNHOHNL. II. MEARIX \ \ M. II. PRYand others42nd Year, September 27, 1009, toMay 27, 1910. Years tuition, $25J . H. GEST, Director Cincinnati. Ohio.

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Washington UniversityST.LOUIS SCHOOLOF FIh'E ARTS-- II--36th Year Opens September 20thFxll;, eq+pfx-d to give in:tructhz k

Drawing, Ceramic - Decoration, Pottery,Painting, Applied Arts, Composition,Modeling, Book Binding, CraftsFor full informa:im~ a~dl~l;~illusfrated iumibook.,E. H. WUERPEL, Director19th and Locust Sts. St. Louis, MO.

EmmaWillard School of ArtTROY, NEW YORKSeptember to Juna

Insrruction in 08. Water Colors. Miniature and Mineral Paiadng. almtn Draw&!. Design. Hi stow of wt. T heory and Practice of 1 esbing AhArts and Crafts Departm-ntWood CarPint?.Weaving. Metal Work. lkmkbindinc ad Pcauy.MISS EDITH VERY, B.S.. DirectorFor circular address hi%+ WILLARD SCHOOL OB AmSCHOOL-ofNDUSTRIALRT

PRATT INSTITUTE ART SCHOOLBROOKLYN, NEW YORK

Clamea in Applied Design. Stained Class. Interior Decantion. T extileand Furniture Deslpn. J ewelry. h~versmirhine. ife. Portrait. llustration.Comwirion. Modelinc. Oil and Mater color Painfmp. I*o- andthree yea, cwrw m Architecture. Two-year cour8e8 m Normal Art andManual Training.30 Studios; 38 Instructors; 23rd YearWALTER SCOTT PERRY, Director.

ADELPHI COLLEGELafsgette Are, Cllfbm acdb. JamsPkce.Bro0kIyn.IV.Y.ART DEPARTMENT I-six of the best equipped class-rooms in Greater NewYork. iAntique. Still Life, Pertrait and Figure Classes. Work in allBlediums. Individual Instruction.

L 1-._.... - -.HOME-MAKINGTHE NEW PROFESSION

I s a 70-page hand-book: its free. Home-study DmncstieScience courses Health. Food, Cookery. 1 iet. House P lan-ning. Management. Chil dren. Nursing, I ressmaking. Etc.For home-maker? teachers. instituti onnl manarrew. matrons.etc. Bul letin. The Up-to-date Home: Labor and MoneySavinq Appliances, 4X pages. 54 il lustrations. 10 cents.Am. Seheol of Rome Economics. 664 W. 69tb St.. Chii. ILROCK RIDGE SCHOOL

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H . 0. WATSON & co.WORKS OF ART

IN

Furn i tu rePorcelainBronzes B apestries

A Unique Exhibit ofANCIENT PERSIAN POTTERY

~6 West 30th Str eet NEW YORK-- _-.- -.--~ ~ .~~THE UNIVERSITY PRINTS

GREEK and ROMAN SCULPTU RESOOsubjects, (Van M ach) one cent eachEARLY ITALIAN PAINTING500 subjects, one cent eachLATER ITALIAN PAINTING500 subjects, one cent eachDUTCH and FLE MISH PAINTIN G500 subjects, one cent each

pour series with H andbooks for the student. 2.000seoarate reproductions, 80 centi for 100 or oneceilteach -Send txvo-cent stamp for completecatalogue and sample prints

BUREAU OF UNIVERSIT+ TRAVELb4 Trinltv Plsoe Boston, Msse.

REAL BUNGALOWSFrom Bungalow, Land

----F-- ., -r- .*r ,i

It you are thinki ng of !vlilding won or some day.you will get a lot of most valunblr wggestions from*BUN GALOWCR AFT - the new book @ BungalowPlans just issued. It is the latest: most comprchen-sive. most practical book of the !imd. Copiously il-lustrated with photogranhic and li ne cuts of REALBUN GALOWS from BUN GALOW LAN D: large.clear floor plans never before publi shed; and mantelsbuffets. l ighting fi xtures, front doors. aindous andtransoms, interiors,. etc., m abundance. 212 il lus-trations. Nothina just like it ever published before;its pwe of Donts and Hints alone is worth hun-dreds of dollar s to any contractor. archi tect. or homebuilder. Pr ice 51.00 postpaid, which amount is re-bated when plans are nurch.ased. Sample pages 18cents.THE BUNGALOWCRAFT CO.

Successor to H. A. EYMANN403 Chamber of Commerce, Los Angeles, Cal.

Styles of OrnamentBy ALEX. SPELTZ

Translated fr om the Gcrmax by David OConorExhibiting the entire system of ornament in all itsdifferent styles and il lustrating the various uses to

which it is applied.A Handbook for architects. designers, sculptors,wood carvers. cabinet makers, modelrrs. etc.. as wellas also for technical schools, li braries and privatestudy.400 plates of il lustrations, with descriptive il lus-trated text. One volume (666 pages).8~0. Cloth. $5.00. PostpaidBruno Hessling Co., Ltd.

64 East 12th Street, New York, N. Y.Descriptive circular wil l be sent upon request-

The Doubletone Inks andother Inks Used on TheCraftsman are made bySI GMUNDLl MAN OMPANY

NewYork Chcago Phladepha

THEPERFECT PENCILWITH LEAD WHICH IS

ABSOLUTELY CRITLES: OF FIRM,EVEN TEXTURE AND EXTREMELYDURABLEBEARS THE IMPRINT

RSXAQOS 8AYBImJ I PLIR,CSITU IlOI1BBEBERHARD FABER Li%ENmDa:: New York SOLD BY ALL DEALERS

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STENCILOUTFITSContaining all material necessary forstenciling your own Curtains, Portieres,Cushions, Centerpieces, Rugs, Etc.

Stencil Outfit A-Iolishe 1 Wood Box, size 10 inches long, 6 incheswide, 2 inches deep, containing 10 single tubes F. W. Devoe & Co.s OilColors, 1 lwttle Stencil Varnish, 1 bottle H. P. Mixture, Palette, PaletteCup, Stencil Knife, 2 Stencil Brushes, Compass, 6 Sheets Stencil Paper,2 Art Stencils, . . . . . . Each, $2.50To get Best Results in Stenciling, always use F. W.Devoe & Co.s Oil Colors, thinned with H. P. Mixture.DE VOE ART STEN C IL S -Read y fo r Use.

Catalogue of 72 designs sent on request.F. W. DEVOE and C. T. RAYNOLDS CO.

New York Chicago Kansas City

From Cutter to CraftsmanBuy Your Gems and Semi-PreciousStones Direct from the LapidaryTeachers and students of, and workers in handicraft jew-elry, and individuals, makmg themselves favorably known t0us. wil l be sent. on 10 days approval, selections of CarefullYchosen and beautifu ll y cut stones:Rare Blaak Opals and Chrysocolls. SO popular forArts and Crafts J ewelry:

Am>zonite PearlsAmethysts J aswr PeridotsAquamarines Lapis LazuliK&white Rose QuartzBloodstones Kalachite. Azur SapphiresCarnelians Moonstones TourmalmeChrysoprase Mossaaates TurquoiseEpidots Olivmes Turquoise MatrixGarnets Opals. Australian VarisciteJ ade, Chinese Opals, Mexican WilliamsiteJ ade, New Zealand ZirconAfcntion the stones in which you (IIC particularly inrcres!ed.A. 8c 5. ESPOSITER CO., 45-4~~ John St., New York

TO WORKERS INARTS AND CRAFTSDo You NeedImitation Stones?

3Iost Arts and Crafts Work require< stones.We manufacture and import the n1o.t wmpl~ielines especially adapted for this class of work.All Colors : Amethyst, Topaz, Sapphire, Ruby,Almandine, Olivine, Coral, Lapis, ?tlalachite,Turquoise Matrix, Jade, Agate, Rloodstone,(hinew dade, various pies of Onyx andrcprodurtions of the Antque Stones.All Shapes and Sizes: Round, Oval, Square,(lushion and Diamond.We also have an excellent assortment of antiqueand odd-shaped stones similar to those used bythe ancient workers in Arts and Crafts Jewelry.We are also able to supply set&p for allstones which we carry.EYl)ohbers onlvle9 sent, upon request to manufacturers. .MARTIN LOW & TAUSSICAddress all rommuuicatums to tb* I rovidenre officeNew York Providence. R. I . Paris, France56 Maiden Lane 139 Mathewson St. I97 Rue du Temple

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tiling done or stencilssold for home use.BOWDOIN @L MANLEY

HovtehddDeeowwaShoppingndF~~~wat;~or1nwi.x546FlfthAvenus. NewYork

CHAIN NOVELTIESBeads, Bags

Workind Dest&s inWater Colors, allMaterials for makingRa& and Purses

1Vhere can I buy text books, tools andmaterials required by an amateur Crafts-man? I would like to make Silver Jewelry,hfetal \Vork, Leather work, do WoodCarving, etc. I will need such things asScarf Pin Stems Silver ChainHat Pin Stems Sheet SilverCuff Button Backs Silver BarFob Mountings German SilverGem Stones Sheet Copper

ANSWER--;\ postal card nil1 bring you anext 4-l page catalogue, illustrating 150tools and over 100 materials, books, etc.,carried in stock and for sale by

The Frost Arts andCrafts WorkshopSend for Booklet giving instructionsfor Beadwork. Pr ice, 10~ per copy.Emma A. Sylvester j

b Wjnter Street, Room 32-A BOSTON 1

DAYTON. OHIOSupply orders fil led same day as received

A eom l&e display of our handiwork at the Seattlei . .poswa~ Main Ent rance, M fgrs Bldg.

p AiQrE T f~ORmm~shlost economicnl, healthful and s:ltisfactors,--foroldor new floors--dii fwent ~attevx to match furnishings-outwear carpets. Stockscarried in Icn(l ing cities. Pr ices and catalogue of design FREETHE INTERlOR HARDWOOD COMPANY, MANUFACTURERS, INDIANAPOLIS, IND./

ROBERT BURLEN -BOOKBINDERCUT ANY SIZE U P TO A WHOLE SKIN

X Stamp wil l bring a Sample CardW. A. HALL, 119 Beach St. w

Binding f Large llustrated orks.Engravings.tc.; * rpa$lty.MAGAZINES AND OLD BOOKS

rebound and foli os of every da&&o made to order. Edge Gildingand Stamping. Paper Ruli ng.156 PEARL ST.. BOSTON, MASS.Telephone 865 Main

Send for our free new instruction book and catalog of leather and metal workers supplies:Directions for making Bowls, Pl ates and Trays; Repousse Work ; the Use of Tools; Porters ~~me Outfit; Benchand I :.


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The Loose-Leaf PrincipleApplied to HeatingSectional boilers is merely a term of theheating trade. It means that boilers aremadein sections; but, as commonly used, itdoes not mean that you, the user, get thebenefit of the sectional construction

We have perfected a tr ul y sectional boiler-as truly sectional as a loose-leaf ledger ora sectional bookcase.A boiler so truly sectional that you can There are many reax,n. why other so-called sectional boilers are not trulyadd sections and take away sections; you can srctioral.

out a days delay or loss of heat.cut out sections, without tearing down, with-In the fir st place, these so-called sec-tional boilers are sectional only abowthe ashpit . The sections are perched

on a separate base, whi ch is no sec-tional.RICHMOND-Boilers -- RadiatorsFrom ash-pit to radiator, the RIC~OND-system embodies the newest and best that isknown in heating. It is the crystallizationof a hundred ingenuities-a hundred econo-mies. It is adaptable to a three-room bun-galow or a mammoth palace-to steam heat-hot water heat-direct or indirect.

To add sections or to take them away.i:.,, must get a new base-you must r& :vdd the whole boiler from the groundP+he RICHMOND boiler is sectionalfrom bottom to top.It needs no separate base, becauseeach section extends clear to the ground.You can add sections, replace sections,or take them away without tearing downthe boiler, or buying new base or ashpitart%r----he sections of ti iRt~~~~~a Bonerare sm?wed mgetber.While the sections of so-called sectionalboilers 818 joined with push niqdrs.If a boiler with push nivle points 2 vesout you take out the fireand t?ar ,wnthe boiler There is 1-0 alternative. Therecm be no heat while new sections arebeing shipped.

Find Out For YourselfIf you are interested in heating any build-ing, large or small, write us. Ask for Cata-log 192. Learn for yourself about this per-fect system which is so economical of fuelthat it saves its own cost and pays its ownmaintenance.

Address in the WestCameron $chroth @.

Western Distributors for 192 Michigan StreetTv~aano~o-Boilers and Radiators ChicagoRICHMOND~ Bath Tubs-Lavatories-Sinks

If you are about to build, investigate, too,the RICHMOND line of enameled ware.

sinks to bath tubs, which bears the name~RICHMOIIDs the best that can be made, less~ Every thing in enameled ware, from kitchen expensive in the beginning and in the end.I HE M?CRUM-HOWELL Co. Pa~~2A??%l%i!t%t New York

Cutting Out SectionsBut with the RICHMOND sectioMboiler, you can plug up the damagedsection--and keep on h&in&We know of cases where sections ofRICHMOND boilers have for one rea-son or another been cut out andplupeed and the boiler made to giveservice, day and night, til l the summercame.The RICHM OND sectional hoilv i sStroneer than other sectional hoilrrs,without adding weight-just as a sinelecastine must always be stronger, nmrerigid than two castirws joined together.Yet the sectional feature is but one ofcountless superiorit ies which yaw wil lfind embodied in the RICH MON D sys-tem.

I Two Factories at Uniontown. Pa.-One at Borwich, Corm.Kindly mention The Craftsman

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THE PEOPLE ,WEE P : A BRONZE STATUE STAND-ING AT THE E NTRANCE OF THE GALLERY OF THELUXEMBOURG IN PARIS: BY J ULES VAN BIES-BROCK, A BELGIAN PAINTER AND SCULPTOR OF APROFOUNDLY HUMANITARIAN SPIRIT.



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GUSTAV STICKLEY, EDITOR AND PUBLISHERVOLUME XVI AUGUST. 1909 NUMBER 5THE VALUE OF OUTDOOR PLAYS TO AMER-ICA: THROUGH THE PAGEANT SHALL WEDEVELOP A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACY? BYMARY FANTON ROBERTS

LWAYS the beginning of art for each nation is with thesimple people (for it is the simple who most easily be-come great) where each man creates beauty, accordingto his inspiration, for his own life. Later there comesa time, born of necessity inherent in modern civi]iza-tion, when men create art for other peoples livesfor which they are paid. And then follows a fullercommercialization of art, until mens ima f inations thrill first to thedollar mark and art moves with a sound o chains, and clanks aboutthe country to do pretty or degrading stunts solely for revenue.This is very much what has happened to the drama in America.A few men (the simply great) have created beauty according to theirown ideals; others, a greater number, have endeavored to adjustthe public to their standards, have believed in the existence of anaudience with capacity for that ethical and intellectual responsewhich would sup ort the artistic drama; but the mass of playwrights,practically the wEole of what is called the American stage, is nowworking for prompt money returns. The drama is a cold businessproposition, and art is consigned to any profane remote shade whereidealism belongs.It is to the great credit of the dramatic idealist that from thissecluded haunt he continues his revolt against the productions knownas the Broadway Performance, that from time to time drama iscreated that is sincere, beautiful, significant, that there are dramatistswho are willing to spend their lives and incomes, past, present, andfuture, to write and produce only such plays as may be legitimatelyranked as artistic drama. -41~0 one records with pride that there aremanagers (one recalls them always outlined nervously against ahalo, not made of gold) who will occasronally risk a productionof such works of art as Sappho and Phaon, The Servant in theHouse, The Faith Healer, Paid in Full, Nachtasyl, The

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYMollusc, will present them consistently, beautifully, as one deco-rates the grave of a friend; and that there are other great souls whowi]] build theaters where art may come to her own and where thetruly great may find employment in presenting the genuinely artistic,-the arts of acting and drama united. It is promised that two suchtheaters shall be in operation at the beginnin of the dramatic seasonthis fall; one subsidized and hence not who ly its own master, andthe other planned, built and managed by its owner, and so a freeand complete test of the reatness of its creator on the one hand andthe quality of the New $ ork ublic on the other.But this exhibition of hig rl ideals on the part of the dramatist,and sporadic, splendid managerial courage is not enough to vitalizeAmerman national drama; the reorganization of a national con-dition may begin with the idealist, but the purpose and interest whichwork reformation must come from the peo le as a whole. Thecreation of an ideal is not enough; the peo

IiP must want it. And

in America for the people to really want an t inof it. If they have so far wanted the the must be a part Bke l&!oon and the Girlfrom Hectors, it was because the appeal was genuine and universal,though to the evil tendencies.was a part of the show. The audience, of the cheaper kind,T US the mass of our pla shuman though ugly, to h are written with a direct appeal,t e most undeveloped, inartistic classof the theatergoers, the class who take but one line of emotionsto the playhouse, and pay to have them satisfied. As this classdominates the city, and as the theater is preEminently a metropolitan,business enter l!irise, what hope is there for the readjustment of thedrama throug the occasional sincere dramatic artist ?But it does seem, if the Blue Moon can be made a successbecause its appeal is so direct that a certain kind of city audiencebecomes one with it, that also it would be possible to present to thebig, sane, intelligent American country audience such drama aswould ap ealbutes,-w olesomeness,-l to what we consider the finer, final American attri-humor, courage, a keen wisdom, a surepatriotism, an inevitable sense of justice, an ever-growin 3 understand-mg and appreciation of the lyric quality oflove of Nature. Why may we not have a 1 oetry an a profoundrama of democracy, adrama which not only makes its appeal to the best of America, butof which the people themselves may become a part ?not this freshenin And why mayand accomplishe f

and beautifying of the American stage be begunthrough the birth and growth of pageantry inAmerica? Necessarily for the success of pageantry we must turn

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYto the heart of the nation, the people of the country, to those conditionsof life where art inevitably springs up, to that phase of life which isr

ving birth to American art and which is ranking our Americanandscape men as the greatest in the world. And it IS for this reasonthat THE CRAFTSMAN finds the present widespread interest in pag-eantry in America the great hope for the American drama-foreantry must succeed through the spontaneous interest and help oP ag-thepeople. For the present at least it cannot hope for any great moneyreward; it must move along uncommercial hnes. It can only countachievement by the measure of interest and coiiperation it receives fromthe people, by the power it has to awaken enthusiasm, and reward thatenthusiasm with enjoyment. The pageant exchan es pleasure forhe11 , and therein lies its force for good and its possib e power to giveto mericasthat would Preatest public a stage at once beautiful and wholesome,re ate drama to Nature and Nature to vivid joy in life,-avital, a joyous, as well as tremendous undertaking for those interested

in the development of pageantry in America.The question which at once naturally arises in the face of soimportant a ranking for pageantry is whether or no it should be firstof all dramatic or essentially historical (limited, of course, to Americanhistory). The dramatist who is also an artist decides naturally infavor of presentations preeminently artistic, and he is right; thecommunity in preturesque valor of tKaring a pageant to celebrate the deeds of pic-eir ancestors declares above all for accuracy andprecisron in presenting home-grown topics, and as a matter of facta combination of the two points of view form the ideal pageant. Apageant should be a well-constructed drama, and it also should havethe human quality which will awaken interest and secure coijpera-tion from the people, who alone can insure its success, by the qualitieswhich they have to give of sincerity, intimate understandin and realenoyment.i The pageant must have the people and shoul t have thecu tivated dramatist.A TO the value of presenting American conditions rather thanforeign, THE CRAFTSMAN declares warmly for Americaninspiration, not only because all art must receive its mostvital creative impulse from native conditions, and must grow in itsown soil to hope for anything like Ion life, but because the nativesubject will inevitably ap Iieal most vivi fwho have the most to o ly to the more sincere people,er this form of drama. We would by nomeans advocate the exclusive presentation of American subjects,barring out such a performance to a college audience as SchlllersJoan of Arc, presented at Harvard recently, or Percy Mackayes

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACY Canterbury Pilgrims, given before various cultivated centersthroughout this country by those delightful people known as the Coburn Players. Yet we do contend that the most significantwork in the reconstruction of dramatic conditions will be achievedb such an effort as the recent Pageant in Westchester County, New77ork, where literature, art and drama contributed to present localhistory, enacted larwhose courage and Pely by the descendants of the picturesque folkoutdoor play of rare oyalty and enthusiasm created the history. Annineteen hundred an x arts was that at Bronxville on Memorial Day,nine.I IS perhaps interestin lf to note to what extent we have beenpreparing American so for thesomethin Pto the Nature Fakirs ageant crop. Possibly we owewho have taken us out of doorsand with faci Pe words opened our eyes to woods and hills and meadowsas lay rounds.an x P As a nation we former1 played rather awkwardlyse1 -consciously, and we have neede ci! to learn something of theart of being natural from the playing of other peoples, the merryGreek and the sad English.At a pageant held in honor of Saint-Gaudens at his home inCornish, several years ago, we learned somewhat of the Greek atti-tude toward the relation of all arts out of doors. Down in NewOrleans for many years there has been the annual Mardi Gras-acarnival of flowers, in which the ri.scarnivals are for otten. The San ?Fu6 old paen gods of ContinentalB rancisco Grove Plays are moreGreek than mo ern, and presented with a powerful aimagination,-fine artistic conceptions, but reserved for t7lpeal to thee more ex-cluslve form of cultured aP preclation.Isolated expressions o the outdoor art festival have been ob-served during recent years at the Pageant of the Renaissance inChicago, the Colonial Paaeant at Springfield last spring, the BostonPageant illustrating the history of education, with others at BarHarbor, Lenox, Onteora and along the Pacific Coast; some merelyhistorical processions, others with an effort at construction and dra-matic distinction, but none quite achieving the ideal conception ofthe American pageant, which shall so embody the history of thecountry, the uahty of our civilization,% the impulse of the peopletoward art an the right artistic ex ression as to offer to us the realbeginning of a national drama whit K will in time extend its influenceout to the metropolitan stage.We may hope for added interest in pageantry from such a presenta-tion as Maude Adams gave Joan of Arc, with its drama of Germanparentage and French inspiration, but it will not help us much in the494



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,4 DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYway of progress toward our ideal, for in it too much was given to,too little demanded of, the public. Far less satisfying as a spectaclebut closer to the realization of our ideal is the dancing every sprin

5of

public-school immi rant children out on the green lawn of% anCortlandt Park. Tmainly immigrant e dances are of Peasant origin, and the audience,B arentsof modern cut, fin dressed m strange undesirable garmentswith pathetic leasure that there are memor i esof their own childhood not despise if by their mongrel children. Thechildren dancing gaily the Highland fling, the Irish clog, the Hun-garian czardas, the Americans awith tearful smiles are all welde f plauding and the peasant womenm this outdoor festival into closernationality in this intimacy of enjoyment and exchange of sympathy.It is a simple and homely pleasure, but one productive of better humanrelations, and so worthy of our consideratron.That pageantry which will eventually rank among the arts ofAmerica we must create for ourselves, to express our own ideasand ideals,-ourselves, in fact. It must be adapted to our conditionof living, our scenery, our desire for artistic expression. It must bea structure in art, not a bit of deft embroidery. Drama for thiscountry will grow just as other phases of our art have grown out ofour soil. It must be indigenous to be real, valuable and lastin .It is impossible to bring any form of art to a people. You can on ymake possible conditions where thecan create. We originated a type o People will express what theyAmerican architecture whenwe needed a skyscraper, not because we had seen models of Greektemples. And so with pa eantry ; it will grow through the peopleout to the stage and contra it; or it will become a temporary suficial fad and vanish, as the people decide. This is the history oBer-allreal and tentative art movements in all nations from the beginning.B T to generalize is not to suggest the great charm, the rare joy,which can be gained from the outdoor play. It seems to methat no adjustment of the indoor stage, not the cleverest ormost subtly managed mise en scBne can so present the illusion of lifeitself at its finest moments of romance as the setting which Natureaffords by day or by night.subtle sociological Possibly this might not be true of the moredramas. Ibsen or Hauptmann may demandthat for them all must be in the realm of the va ue sug estivenessof art, that there must be no break in the line whlc% Bhe su tle plum-met follows from the authors brain straight to the last reaches of thelisteners soul, that we must not be asked to transfuse on one handart into reality and on the other reality into art. This we are re-pared to grant along the single lines of the introspective play. % ut

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYAmerican drama gives no hint of develonot purely ephemeral, a mere chance or drawing-room re artee,ing in this direction; whenpretty clothes, pretty girls, it is in the main movina toward arealism, the presentation of the B eople and con &ions

Befiniteof ordinarylife, not out of place in surroun ings definitely realistic; and mostof all does the pageant, and what we hope to develop from it, findappropriate environment in the actualities of natural conditions.IHALL never forget the thrill and joy of my first outdoor play,Percy Mackayes Canterbury Pi1 nms, as it was presentedup on the campus of the Barnard C ub of New York City. For-tunately, it was given after dark so that the noisy city was shut awayby theater walls of cool dark blue night, and, as I reached the theater by following a pathway shrouded in gloom, the illusion of romancewas begun at once. I discovered afterward that this was not thecorrect way to the parquet, but it was my good fortune to have missed

the ri ht way.and tB Thus I came quietly to my seat, the lights not yet on,e stage but a dim vista of green glades, bushes and lowtrees casting bosky shadows. Swinging from a branch of one of thehigher trees was the weatherbeaten sign of the Tabard Inn, whichswayed just so in the wood near London Town in the year thirteenhundred and eighty-seven. Suddenly out of the shadows back ofthe fluttering foliage came the sound of bells, and with the leasantchime I ceased for those hours to be a part of any company g ut thatgood1of be Is and the murmur of voicesone of Chaucer and his pi1 rim friends. Again the soundf ar back of the bushes, and thepeople who belonged in the green depths came forth, andabout and laughed and were content as though they ha B eeredlivedtheir lives in these same imperishable woods on Riverside Driveand One Hundred and Tenth Street. But why this mention of citystreets! That night I lived on the greensward with the lau&ingwife of Bath and her lovers, with the gentle Prioress, the merry B- rar,and I think I have never known pleasanter, more entertaining friends.Two tremendous sB otlightsthrew the tree-bowere back of the audience, raised high,sta e into fine relief and the audience intoobscurity, as it should be. % here was only the play and the players,and the romance of old worlds in oetry of the new. There weresongs and ballads and gaily trippe s measures and lines of rare artand delight. And the joy was not wholly for the audience, thePlayers, too, were making merry for their own pleasaunce. Theyaughed and tricked each other, joked and loved as real people, notactors, with a radiant spirit as of a light-hearted world. The illusiveremoteness of the great Chaucer in the midst of these joyous children496



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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYwas admirabl shown by Mr. Coburn himself, and the Friar, theworthy, kin dfy, humorous9 mischievous, fat old Friar, what bettercharacter work of this kind has the American stage seen than theacting of Augustus Duncan? Mr. Duncan is also stage managerof the Coburn Players, and one of rare skill, if one may judge fromhis management of a natural m ise en she, so that in the same woodswe felt ourselves successively in the court ard of the Tabard Inn,in the garden of the Nine Pin Inn and in a %borhood of Canterbury Cathedral. ublic Place in the neigh-And what artistic and racticalunderstanding to accomplish this at the end of the Barnard e !I am told that before this season is over the Coburn Play~~p~lhave presented the Canterbury Pi1 rimsuniversities and colleges. They will f at no less than thirtyat Gloucester, August the fourth. a so appear in the great PageantAnd yet the first season of thesevaliant outdoor players lasted but two weeks.money for a lon They had not enougher season.% But back to the stage they went to earnmore money an try again,winter earnin from summer to summer, uniting theirf shave attaine to equip the company for the road, until at last theysomewhat their ideal, of presenting plays withoutovercrowding of gor eous scenes,% without bitter rivalry of stars;but with sincerity, wit joy, and for the people.tion of outdoor artistic drama. This is the concep-

Q JITE unlike this most charming play of poetical conception andsetting was the Westchester County Historical Pa reant held inthe woods of the De Witt estate at Bronxville, NewP ork. Herethere was no effort at a well-constructed drama. There were insteada series of historical episodes giving opportunity for most dramatictableaux & want, with words furnished by as many different writersas there were episodes.The first esettlement of Kisode, written by Tudor Jenks, illustrated the Dutchew York. The French share in the early history ofWestchester was portrayed by an episode written by Mrs. ElizabethCuster and Marguerite Merin ton. Eighteenth-centurv life wasshown in an episode written by 8 ouverneur Morris. In this a seriesof scenes presented the adjournment of the Provincial Congress toWhite Plains in seventeen hundred and seventy-six, the readingof the Declaration of IndePlains and the capture endence at that place, the Battle of WhiteoF Maor And& at Tarrytown. The finale4 isode, givin hashington f a picture from t e life of the nineteenth century, withrving entertaining literary friends at Sunnyside, hisWestchester home, was written hy Ruth McEnery Stuart.The plan throughout this Pageant seemed to be to celebrate, and

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYto do it cheerfully. There was no talk of the huge sums of moneyto be spent; but of art and work and friendly cooperation there wasno stint. The list of directors and the names on the committeesread like a National Academy catalogue, and therein lay the valueand perhaps also the success of this Pageant. There was the enthusi-asm, interest, knowledge of the people who desired the Pageant andthe artists to study and achieve this desire, and working with theartists and the lay residents of Bronxville were the people in authorityin village and State. And it would seem that qmte apart from thehistorical value of this Pageant oneof this most democratic form of %ot at something of the significancerama, for with what other formof amusement would one town be likely to bring together with en-thusiasm in one day the Governor of the State, the town officials andall the residents to meet in the woods for the mutual pleasure andbenefit of all ?Mr. Percy Mackaye has said recently on the question of the im-portance of pageantry in America that the masque or pageant isnot limited to historrc themes of the past. All vital modern forcesand institutions of our nation-the press, the law, the railroads, thepublic-school system, athletics, the universities, the trades unions inall their variety, the vast industries of steel and copper and wheatand fisheries and agriculture, and hundreds more, might appro-priately find symbolic expression in maestic masques, educative andentertaining to all the peo le.cf And Mr. Mackaye has writtenpageants, acted in them an followed their development all over thecountry.But to return to the woods of Bronxville, it is quite impossible tof ive any adequate impression of the realistic quality of such a per-ormance as the Westchester Pageant, where the doing of the playhad for weeks become an intimate part of the life of the people, andwhere for days before the production, from the beginning of therehearsals, the villagers were wandering about town in full costume,British officers chatting in most friendly wise with the Revolutionarysoldier, Puritan maids, not without coquettish glances for the Colonialofficers, and Indians, tomahawks in hand, recerving pleasant welcomefrom Anne Hutchinson. Mrs. Nathaniel Hawthorne thou ht it nosmall pleasure to stop at the Bridge and make merry wit % DanielWebster and Oliver Wendell Holmes ; both gentlemen observingwithout alarm that Mrs. Jonas Bronck was surrounded by soldiersand Indians, and that Major Andre had apparently escaped in spiteof all his rehearsals. Fancy what living in such an atmosphere mustmean in the way of developing enthusiasm, understanding and acertain camaraderie of interest and appreciation !498



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AUGUSTUS DUNCAN AS Tlte Friar IN PRRCYMACKAY& PLAY "THE CANTRRRURY PTLGRIYS.~MR. COBURN AS &ZWXY AND MRS. CORURN ASThe Prioress IN THEIR OWN PRESENTATION OFTHE CANTERBURY PILGBLMk."



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MRS. COBURN AS Rosa&d ND MR. COBURN ASOrlando IN AN OUTDOOR PRRFORMANCB OF ASYOU LIKE IT."TEE Wife of Bath and Her Lovers IN ASCENE FROM PERCY MACKAYI& OUTDOOR DRAMAAS PRESENTED BY THE COBLiRN PLAYERS



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SEVENTH EPISODE : MRS. DUDLEY LAWRENCE IN1848 COSTUME , AS A GUEST AT THE DANCE ATSUNNYSIDE.

FIFTH EPISODE : MR. ARTHUR LAWRENCEAS THE HONORABLE FREDERIC PHILLI PSEIN COSTUME OF 1733.

FIRST EPISODE : MRS. LAWRENCE AS TEUNTJ E.WIFE OF J ONAS BRONCIC, FIRST SETTLER OF WEST-CHESTER COUNTY.

SEVENTH EPISODE : MRS. F. E. KAVANAUGH ASMRS. NATHANIE L HAWTHORNE AT TEE RECRP-TION OF WASHING TON IRVING



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FIRST EPISODE : MAURICE, PRINCE OF ORANGERECRNING ADRIAEN BLOCK AT THE HAGUE.FIRST EPISODE: J ONAS BRONCK AND HIS FAMILYAND FRIENDS ON THEIR WAY TO WESTCHESTERCOUNTY IN 1639.



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FOURTH EPI SODE : HUGUENOTS MARCHING BARB-FOOT TO CHURCH ON COMMUNION SUNDAY,FROM NEW ROCHELL E TO CANAL STREET, NEWYORK CITY.FOURTH EPISODE : CHILDREN DANCING BEFORRLORD AND LADY PELL IN NEW ROCHEL LB, I&.



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FOURTH EPISODE : DANCING ON THE GREE N ATTHE PRESENTATION OF THE FATTE D CALF TO LORCAND LADY PELL.SIXTH EPISODE : CAPTAIN ALEXANDER IiAYIL-TON COMMANDING THE PIECE S OF ARTILLERYDURING THE BATTLR OF WHITE PLAINS.



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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYI WAS late in the afternoon when I entered the Bronx woodsfor the final performance of the Pageant. Up the cool greenroad leading to the grandstand I strolled, Rst automobiles andRevolutionery artillery, and in the silence of t e woodland I heardthe call of Oyez! Oyez! and the spirit of the past seemed crying aloudthere in the orchard land of Westchester. As I drew near I realizedthat deeds of valor were being enacted, and for my good cheer therewould be dancing on the meadow green, and across the meadow onthe hillside I saw children playing, and there were groups of Colonialmaidens under the apple trees, and not too far away youn men insevere attire. As I stood back near the roadway, ust m sig% t of thewide meadow which was the center of the sta e,s !I saw on a. far-offhill the forming of a troop of cavalry, British so diers in scarlet coats,and as they swept down the shady road to the meadow stage I recog-nized that they were being led by their valiant General, the famousHowe. Swiftly they swung throuuh the open gate onto the stage.There the troops surrounded the general and words of wisdom werespoken, and the men were exhorted to deeds of high courage, for wasnot a country to be saved for His Majesty, the great King George?And there was no doubt that these men were ready to fight with alltheir soul for the King of England and his land and people m America.After a moments rest they fell into line, whirled away up the hillsideout into the orchard, disa pearing and reappearing through windingroads back to the Britis RBut the real a K lause ofc~~p~ay was for the little group of thefirst American so iers, who, according to the rogramme, wereathered6% at Washingtons camp near his I;ea quarters out onite Plains. Here the general had brought his men together totell them of the approaching battle for liberty, to warn them of allthat would be expected of them, to explain how small were theirnumbers and how great were the British foe, conjuring these fewsturdy patriots by the love they bore the country they now re ardedas their own, by their concern for liberty, by. their regard or thesafety of their dear ones, to bear themselves with bravery becomingthe cause in which they were engaged.To this stirring address the audience listened breathlessly, andas the horsemen turned away quietly and passed silently throughthe meadow gate, up the road to face the enemy of untested strengthand courage, there was a sudden sympathetic stir among the listeners,first a sigh, then the rustle of skirts as the women rose to their feet,and all at once the sound of tumultuous cheering as our own soldiers,our men of history disa peared into the orchard and vanished fromview. -411 unconscious y, in the simplest fashion, these amateur

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A DRAMA OF DEMOCRACYactors had achieved the real dramatic thrill, for which every play-wright strives and which is a rare episode in any audience.Are we for one moment to believe that this thrill was less realbecause actual history was being repeated, because instead of paintedscenes there were orchards, green and fra %rant, and because someof the men who rode away up the shady lanfrom the men who died for it? had inherited patriotismBut just how to account for the extraordinary uality of thepresentation of these scenes by amateurs ? sro be sure, iolet Oakleywas Master of the Pa eant, with eyes trained to see pictures and handsto create them, and !3 ugene Sanger, who was sta esessed an equal knowledge of stage business manager, pos-an ii human nature.But there was more than artistic and practical management in thework done by these amateur makers of pageantry, there was a totalabsence of self-consciousness, there was presentation of scene afterscene without a hitch, there was an understanding not only of indi-vidual character work, but a sympathetic coijperation that was littleshort of incredible, until you realized that the work had sprung outof the wish of the people, and grown through their effort, and beenachieved throustand the si ni i!ih their splendid enthusiasm, then you began to under-of growth, tQ cance of the sort of drama that is in the actual processat is for the people and of them.As I wandered back through the woods with Mrs. Hawthorne,who asked me with pleasant curiosity of her granddaughter Hilde-f arde, whom I know, we passed a charming Dutch matron lookingor a Puritan child which a Cavalier father had forgotten to brinhome. Ed ar Allan Poe grown younrr and cheerful sto% ed to as Bif we had eard Bispham recite T%e Raven, and BashingtonIrving spoke of the increase of yellow journalism so much to be de-plored. Near the gateway of Lawrence Park on our way to thetrain we passed some twentieth-century dames clad in strange uglyshort skirts, manlike shoes and waists resembling mens shirts.They looked strange and ungraceful and we were glad of the chancewe had had of livirig in another age, of knowing other ways.



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THE GATES OF FULFILMENT: BY MARYKATHERINE WOODS

And it maybe, when the journey of life has been over barren hillsides of rod andstubble, that one enters the country of death by the gatesf fulfilment.F a dozen men had been killed in the riot, a scoreothers injured, one policeman had been shot down,and a woman had been crushed in the crowd. Ithad been one of the most terrible things that hadhappened in the city for years, this sudden mad up-rising among the citys foreign folk. The studentsof political economy and the agents of the Societyfor Organizing Charity discussed the question of whether the causeof the riot was abstract inherent lawlessness or a concrete poverty andhunger and desperation. The police arrested the leaders of the mob.Newspapers and sociological societies and womens clubs discourseddispassionately the Problem of the Unemployed. Then, when theexcitement was over, and the uproar of would-be anarchy in theforeign quarter had quieted down to an almost apathetic murmurof defeated discontent, someone discovered that the whole troublehad been aroused by the socialistic ravings of a woman.They found her in a wretched boarding-house in the slum district,by no means the frail and lovely girl student of Russian Nihilisttales, but a plain-faced, large-boned, middle-aged woman, a square-visaged spinster, whose word was law to the hundreds of aliens whowere her followers.Simply enough, smiling ironically once or twice, yet making herrecital in a dull, unemphatic monotone, she told the olice who shewas and what she had done. Yes, it was she who ha cr stirred up theriot, caused all the bloodshed, all the-her li s curled curiously-disturbance. She had done it, and, if she ha cp a chance, she wouldlike to do it again. She had been there, in the street, with the mob,but she had escaped arrest because she was a woman, and no onehad thought of suspecting her, until afterward. But she was notafraid. She would go with the policemen now. That was a matterof course.Her deep-set eyes turned on the officers now and then with a sortof flaming contempt,-the ancient scorn of the conquered for thevictory of force. She smiled when they told her that they woulddispense with the hand-cuffs, out of respect for her sex, smiledwith a genuine impersonal amusement. Then she went with the twopolicemen out of the house.In the street the crowds gathered to look at her, as the officers

led her away to the station-house. There was no resistance in thewomans attitude, only a grim acceptance in her face, a sort of mock-507



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THE GATES OF FULFILMENTing recognition of the citys power to punish and to kill. From hereyes there looked even a sort of dull triumph, a sardonic ac 7,uiescencein the laws verdict on her action, a tragic I told you so. It wasalways this way, she seemed to be sa ng to the people who watchedfrom the street; it was what she ha CTex Flected; it was a vindicationof all her bitter words. Th is was what appened when one thou htand dreamed and talked of freedom in this country that men cal edfree. This was what hap ened when women and little children werestarving. This was what 7l appened when one cared about the peoplewho were suffering, when one tried to rouse them to a demand forbetter things. The police came, and that was all.Vaguely, the men and women near her understood what it wasthat she would have said to them, read the wordless message in hertragic eyes, saw, through the gaunt pride of her defeat, the thingsthat lay beneath her bitterness. . . . .At the corner she paused, for an instant, and the policemen caughther arm and pulled her on, rudely enough. But as she stood thereat the turning of the street the people who had followed azed at heronce more, silently. Her face, as she looked back at tfl e men andwomen and children whom she had fought for, and whom she wasleaving, was the face of a thwarted Madonna. -4 vast blind mother-hood, denied, turned to bitterness and heartbreak and spent desire:splendid misdirected energies : unreasoning futile strength ; the powerto ive, distorted and bent toward a close-lipped ability to strugglean f to pay: all a womans passion for sacrifice twisted awry until ithad become merely the madness of an ineffectual vengeance,-thesethings there were in her face as she looked back, toward the crowds.As the woman and her captors turned to cross the street, a child,ragged, laughing, exultantly young, ran over the cobblestones in frontof them and stumbled on the car tracks. Hestill laughing, and started on. But the threatene x icked himself up,fall had disturbedhis baby mastery of himself, and at the next step he was down again,falling flat on the cobbles this time, straight in the path of the pranc-ing horses that a careless truckman was driving up the street.Instinctively, the two policemen loosened their hold on theirprisoner, stepping forward to a possible rescue. But the womanwas before them. There was a magnificent conquering strengthin her as she dashed across the car track. She had caught the childin an instant, thrusting him almost fiercely toward the safety of thecurb. As she dragged him aside she reached out her other hand,large, strong, ungainly, and grasped the hoof of the horse nearesther, pushinthe car trac % at it, vainly. Then she fell backward, her head against.



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FOUR WALLSThe baby was still laue es caught the gleam

kf hing when they picked him up. His childo metal on the horses harness. The un-*ngnggaiety of youth was in the little face, that showed no realiza-tion of the danger from which he had been snatched.Once, the woman opened her eyes, alert and questionin . Fora moment they rested on the child, laughing yet bv the cur53stone.~~~~ face there was an ex-a tnum hant resslon that no one had ever seen there

Her h;nds move iBen erness, a radiant fulfilment of peace.

, as if seeking something, as a mothers might. atnight. Then she lay still, heavily, in the policemens arms.

FOUR WALLSS MR people love four careful walls-And some love out of doors.!Vhen just a rain-dro fallsThe indoor people watch beit ind a window-pane.Theyre so afraid of Weather out of doors-These chimney-corner folks--They like to walk on floors-The ground and grass do not feel rightBeneath their house-taught feet.And when at times they venture outThey think what People they will meetAnd never see the Wonder-wor!d at all.It is not hard to tellThe ones who love the out of doors.A joy they would not sellFor any gold, smiles in their eyes.AIL& CLEVEGLANII HIGGINS.



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AMERICAN ARTISTS WHOSE VITAL WORKSHOWS THE INSPIRATION OF NATIVE SUB-JECTS, AS SEEN IN THE RECENT WATERCOLOR EXHIBIT IN NEVC: YORKAN any artist, or group of artists, produce vigorous,vital work dealing with subjects to which they arealien by birth, tradition and association ? It is truethat a mans imagination might receive a more imme-diate or keener superficial stimulus from the new,the foreign (some types of mind do) ; but the responseto that appeal can never be as real, as permanent, asprofound, as when both spiritual and physical energies are bent uponexpressing, through the medium of art, that of which they are in-trinsically a part -that something understood by instinct, that sub-tle impulse which makes a man spiritually become a patriot, physi-cally adhere to a national type, and the expression of which becomesa revelation not only of environment, but intimate personality.And so, as we see American art progressing from year to year inpurpose, vitality, technique, and as every season the proportion ofour artists who are treating American subjects with a fresh andsympathetic individuality, is vastly increasing, a relation in the twofacts occurs to us, and we say to ourselves, hopefully, and with thatcheerfulness of mien worn by a prophet not above success in hisown country, that American paintmg is slowly but definitely becom-ing a vital art because it is being grown out of its own soil, so thatit partakes more and more of the nature of the land from which itsprin s.fl s point of ,view seems worth considering in connection withthe annual exhibition of the American Water Color Society at theAmerican Fine Arts Galleries held in the late spring. The attentionof the public seemed somewhat inclined to focus on the center gal-lery in the exhibition, in which the work of several of the foremostillustrators was brought together, yet the paintings in the other twogalleries were equally meritorious and it was from these that thepictures we are using as illustrations were selected. To us thesepaintings signified the note that dominated the exhibit, for in allthree galleries the subjects of the pictures showed how many Amer-ican artists are finding the inspiration for their work in their owncountry and among their own countrymen. Although there was afair percentage of forei n landscapes exhibited, except in a few cases,they seemed distinctly ess inspired than the work of the same artiststreating native subjects. We can never review a collection of Amer-510



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SIGNIFICANT AMERICAN WATER COLOR WORKican landscapes without a feeling of pride in the honesty and sym-pathy with which they are painted, and the direct, healthy point ofview which such treatment denotes, and which is making us fore-most in this branch of art. This vigor of soul,-more prevalent inAmerica than elsewhere,-could be felt throu hout the entire ex-hibit. The portraits and figure-pieces as we 1showed clear conception and original handling. as the landscapesE WARD DUFNERS fantasy, entitled September Afternoon,held what has come to be considered the place of honor, thecenter of the north wall of the Vanderbilt Gallery. It was astudy of atmosphere and, as its position signified, was the finest ofits kind in the exhibit. The painter chose that richest moment inthe year, the brief period of suspense while the tide of nature isturning, when the harvest is full for reaping, but the stalk still bearsits burden. It is the supreme moment of mystery in all the mysteryof nature. One is conscious of a pause in the round of life, of aninertia stealinRather, it is t l through the earth too passionate to be called peace.e sigmficant rest between two thrills of pain, or be-tween two movements of a symphony, when silence, shadowy withdim memories of music, throbs deeper and deeper with the knowl-edge of music to come. The subject was admirably composed. Atthe left center, two aspens, their foliage heavy with the accumulationof sap, stand on a grassy slope overlooking a bit of ocean seen at theright of the picture. Against their stems two half-draped figures ofwomen,-one sitting, one standing,-watch some bathers just insight from the lea.heavy leaves. A warm sigh from the ocean ust stirs theThe flowing curves of the womens /orms turnedlanguidly toward the sea, blend into the slow undulation of thegrass. A soft haze rests u on the water and dulls its brilliancy,softens the outlines of the gures, and robes the scene with a lan-guorous atmosphere too poignant to be of dreams.The Jury of Selection appears to have been very broad in itsstandard of excellence, and one of the charms of the exhibition wasthe great variety in the technique and treatment of the subjects.Especially noticeable for variation in methods of handling subjects weretwo paintin s of country roads, one of winter and one, early sum-mertime. 4 he first picture, called The River Road, by JohnKellogg Woodruff, gives us a windy day in earlthing is in sharp line and positive color. E winter. Every-In the t in air the outlineof the hills is as keen as a blade. The water sparkles with a coldmetallic blue. The brown road is frozen like a rock; here andthere wheel ruts are filled with thin ice that reflects the sky above,



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SIGNIFICANT AMERICAN WATER COLOR WORKscarcely less intensely blue than the water. The shadows are assharp and distinct as the objects that cast them and the road itselfends abruptly by turning suddenly about a projecting boulder. Thesecond picture, Clason Point Road, a pastel, by David Milne, isan im ressionistic effect in yellow- reen anding ob quely through the trees, P reen. The sun, fall-fil s the woo % with a bewildering,permeating gleam and intricate shadows, out of which the white roademerges for an instant and then grows vague again and disappears.Amon the portraits exhibited, the most significant was a watercolor by !?Ianna Rion of Frank Verbeck. Althou h we are familiarfith this artists delightful, outdoor, water color s etches, her lovelyspringtime patches of garden, her fairylike bits of winter beauty, thisportrait seemed a new departure, at once sensitive and forceful. Itwas vital as a portrait, most interesting in composition and showedan especially keen sense of the handlmg of textures. It su gesteddefinitely inspiration leading to purpose rather than purpose %for inspiration. apingColor was only hinted at and yet the general im-pression was of richness. A rare enthusiasm was there coupled withunusual power of expressing personality, and yet holding that person-ality within the bonds of interesting composition.THE very spirit of American childhood is in the sprightlytrait of Mary Bernice, by Miss Tony Nell. The young la B or-y 111the picture is obviously trymg to stand still and be a good girlwhile Miss Nell paints her, and she finds it a colossal effort. Theplump little body is all at attention and she resses her little shoes rigidlyto the earth, lest she unknowing, they s El p up and carry her awayout of doors. Even her skirts require some suppressing, for theytoo have a wing-like tendency to flutter off with her into the sunshine.Doubtless, her strength is supported by the consciousness of thismoral victory, but if the eyes of Mary Bernice speak the truth-it cant go on much longer!Adam Emory Albright deals with another type of Americanchildhood in The Sisters. It is a familiar little scene, the tendersolicitude of Big Sister holding the dipper just too high, and unques-tioning Little Sister accepting the mmistration just as it is offered,although she must rise on her toes and bend her head uncomfortablyto reach the water. The picture is an appealing bit of genre work,although one could wish that the background had been made tofurther express the conception.In contrast with the happy sship, Miss Alice Schilles Kutc

ontaneity of this sisterly guardian-children strike a pathetic note.The girl, bearing the heavy baby, is scarcely older than the little



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THE RIVER ROAD: J OHN KE LLQGGWOODRUFF, PAINTER.

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CLASON POINT ROAD: DAVIDMILNE, PAINTER.



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THE SISTERS : ADAM E. ALBRIGHT, PAINTER.MARY BERNI CE : TONY NELL, PAINTBR.DUTCH CHILDRE N : ALICE SCHII.1.E. PAI NTER .



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THE DAFFODIL MAX :ANNE PECK, PAINTKR.



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"THE PLAZA": GORDONGRANT, PAINTER.



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NEARI NG SUNSET: WALTER L.PALMER, PRINTER.MEADOW WITH MIST FLOWERS:W. Ii. HOLME S, PAINTE R.



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SIGNIFICANT AMERICAN WATER COLOR WORKelder sister of the other painting; but the attitude and the ex res-. .sion are of care and responsibility that are a burden, uncomp ain-;ingly and tenderly accepted, perhaps, but not the happ , naturaloutlet of love. The picture is rather somberly painted in cfull brownand the inert weight of the sleeping child is admirably given.Two excellent ortraitslg of old women were hung near enoughtogether so that t e full contrast OF the types was enjoyed, andwhich is sometimes not the case, each artist gained in comparisonwith the other. Meditation, a pastel by Anne Greene, repre-sented a delicate and fragile old woman. A light shawl was foldedover her thin, white hair and tied under her chin. The head wasslightly bent and the artist had posed her model so that a soft lightrested like a benediction upon her forehead. The other, A Toilerof the Earth, bus a sturdy, Clara T. MacChesney, was in water color, wivingsta wart old person, shrewd in a bargain, no aoubt,vigorously materialistic in viewpoint, to whom the past would meanlittle, the future much, the present most; a face, though, that showeda great, rouRhoda If h kindness of soul and the courage to be just.olmes Nicholls showed an interesting landscape in tanand green, Sand Dunes in the Sunli ht, and Elmer MacRae hada striking harbor scene, Summer H6 ze, that depicted the effectgiven by haze upon calm water, when every object m and along thewaters edgedistorted. seems lifted slightly and the aerial perspective is strangelyW. H. Holmes picture,pears in this article, a reproduction of which ap-Meadow with Mist Flowers, carries with ita delightful atmosphere of morning freshness. The low meadowur ledE f over with masses of feathery flower, runs back to a lowno 1 edged with trees, half hidden in a purple morning mist. WalterPalmers snow scene, Nearing Sunset, unfortunately loses much inthe reproduction. The beauty of the composition, both in line, andin light and shadow remains, but the exquisite amethystine shadowsthat, in the original, steal across the picture from the left, and thewarm gold light from the setting sun that plays beneath the pitchygreen of the firs and throws into contrast the passive cold of theexpanse of snow are, of necessity, lost.The Plaza, by G or donThe painter has admirably Grant, was a noticeable piece of work.mer storm drives through t Iiortrayed the ferocity with which a sum-e cross streets of New York. Here wehave the square, a series of miniature lakes, separated by slightlyraised areas of asphalt; the wind drives the water down the slopinsidewalk with the violence of tidal waves. The forms of people an 3things reflect as in a mirror, and the hansoms each race with an in-verted double. Everything shines with wetness and the very leaves

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COLORof the trees seem water-soaked. One is prone to wonder, however,if the storm is as bad as Mr. Grant leads us to suppose by the con-ditions of the streets, what sort of people are sittmg on the top ofthe Fifth Avenue bus. Can there be such fresh-air cranks as these?This may be straining a point for realism, still, the picture is dis-tinctly realistic in all its other details.Miss Anne Pecks Daffodil Man is very interesting in compo-si tion. The leading line, starting at the base of the icture, becomesin succession the hne between the gray of the 01B mans trousersagainst the inside of his coat, the shadows running inward from thetop and bottom of the trathe line of his scarf that utters out behind his head. Helped outr of flowers, the meeting of the coat andby the curve of the cap, in the more immediate foreground, the linereturns in a series of parallel curves made by the top of the cab, theround of the wheel and, finally, by the corner of the old mans coat.It is interesting to notice the part that the tree, at the extreme rightof the picture, plays in throwing this returning line into prominence.The background is in somber browns and rays. The old manskindly features are a little reddened by the co d. The brilliant tray-ful of yellow daffodils adds the only touch of color to the blusteringgray spring day in a city street.On the whole, the exhibit was very interestin . The icturesshowed a noticeably even standard of excellence an % the exhi 6 it gavea less confused expression than is usual where the work of manypeople of many schools is brought to ether.% We can only reiteratewhat has been very generally said,-t at New York has never seensuch a brilliant season in art, and this exhibit, practically the last ofthe year, did nothing to blur the memory.

COLORB AST not so much the splendid dyesOf cunningly wrought tapestries,Nor painters blue and red;Ive seen three scarlet butterfliesA-flutter in a golden breezeAbout a milk-weeds purple head. .ALLAN UPDEGRAFF.520



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SUCH FARMS AS DREAMS ARE MADE OF:BY ALICE DINSMOOR

T IS early morning in a Thuringian village : ThePostwa en driver is blowing his horn to assemble theHerrsc L / t en who are leaving for a train at the nearestrailway station. They must walk warily lest theyjostle against women with great baskets of cacklingfowls for the market, or wood for the ovens, on theirbacks ; or, more dan erousblueberry pies, ! still, other women bearingtwo and one-half eet in diameter, on their heads.On the roads leading out of the villaalong slowly, for they are much encum %e, familyered. arties are trudgingTKe men have some-times implements to carry, always a pipe, the women very often ababy, and with them are older children, from little toddlers to boysand girls old enough to share the burdens.of the community. Today the These are the farmingFl

arteautiful with the corn-flowers their f olden grain is coming down,o d Kaiser loved, and the wholefamily is to help in the work. Beyond the village streets they aresoon under the sha.de of fragrant hemlocks ; the quiet valley wheretheir homes lie on one side; on the other, the everlasting hills.When they gain the patchwork-like fields, each family goes to itsown. A stranger marvels that they can be quite sure which is theirown, but they all know and are soon evidently as much at home thereas in the tiny house they have left to the care of Grossmiitterchen, whowill knit and doze till it is time to prepare Abendbrod. The sicklesfirst swarth makes a pillow and protection for the baby, and beforelon 9; other little ones are also asleep there.1 leanwhile the mother and older boys andfathers sickle and binding the grain. Trls are following theworkers are peacefully content. The wor is not easy; but thesummer sky,

Over their heads is the gloriouswith sheltering clouds floating in the azure spaces.The temperature is genial and the air clear. Well may the littlegroup be happy. There is no lovelier spot within their horizon.A narrow life,spiration! says the casual observer, no incentive, no in-But the thoughtful observer discovers both. This airand sunshine are the best of tonic. The parents have not been obligedto leave their children to grind in a mill or di in a mine.be together through the long busy hours ; the 7ine They can allupon line and preceptupon precept, may be given at the moment they are needed. Theseboys are to be the brawn and sinew and defenders of the Vaterlandin the next generation. How happy the peasant farmers who maythus share in shaping the future of the empire, while they contributeto her annual store of breadstuffs!

If one day these boys and girls find their way to America, they521



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SUCH FARMS AS DREAMS ARE MADE OFwill come with the dream of a farm of their own, such as thousandsof their compatriots already have in our Middle West. And thosewho have the courage for large undertaking, will find there the oppor-tunity.The very fact that the oldest of our country is young in history,that the most densely settled has yet plenty of room, that there is noend of things to be done for the betterment of the present and comingcitizen, is an inspiring thought, alike for native born and foreigner.L T us look more closely at the particular sources of inspirationthat a farmer in these United States may safely say are his.In the first place, he is sure of daily bread for his family. Itmay be said that this is very little, but the boards of charity in everyState could be disbanded, and the city and State institutions for thecare of dependent poor could be closed, if every able-bodied manwas earning his own living and that of the aged and little childrenfor whom ties of kinship ought to make him feel responsible. Withtemperance and ordinary thrift, he may have a home of his own,where comfort may prevail in the early years of his possession, andwhere later on, luxury may be found. These are assertions thatmay be verified so easily, it is superfluous to do it on this pa e.a Withliterally every variety of soil and climate from the arctics to t e tropics,a man has but to choose under what conditions he prefers to put inthe plow.A famous biologist who came from a foreign university to give acourse of lectures in one of our colleges, was being sounded as to hismethod of procedure, by the president of the institution. I su pose,said the president, that you will begin by stating the princip es thatunderlie your science. On the contrary, said the professor,I shall begin with a bushel of clams. From this study he expectedhis students to discover not only the principles of biology, but hisown methods of investigation. From every bushel of seed the farmersows, he has each year a fresh o portunity to learn what could begained in no other way. The con cr tions are never twice exactly alike;he is always attacking a somewhat new roblem, and each year hasthe possibility of adding to his store of R nowledge what may be ofincalculable benefit, not only to himself but to the world.There is but one Burbank, but there is many a man raising betterrain% or vegetables than his neighbors on land no better than theirs,ecause he has, by selection, improved his seed from year to year,and by experiment has found what fertilizers, and in what quantity,will best further the growth of this seed. The special price he cancommand for his produce is stimulus enough to continue his experi-



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SUCH FARMS AS DREAMS ARE MADE OFhas been touched by a hand, not

whom I know, has always the same answermade a planting, his employer says to him, It will, says Patrick, with the blessing ofhis work is in a peculiar way linked withthat of the creative force. If he thinks far enough, he realizes thatthrough his help, this force does a creative work in each stalk of corn,each blade of grass that comes forth as a result of his planting.The discovery of these laws in the natural world lies at the founda-tion of all the scientific work done in laboratories, work that puts mensnames into the mouths of all intelligent people, and makes themforemost benefactors of the race. Not every farmer seems to recog-nize the fact that his work gives him the richest opportunity to besuch a philanthropist. Those who learn to correlate developmentswith the differing conditions of seasons and climates are getting hold

of a source of inspiration, as surely as they are securing a larger mate-rial income.POPLE now living remember the early years in the historyof Kansas when she was a fighting ground for slave-owners andfree-soilers, and later, for grasshopand prairie fires. Within the last two x ers and drought, cyclonesecades, since settlers havebecome numerous and farms have been under better sPstems of cul-tivation, farmers have been sure of a paying crop on y about oncein three years ; but they have not been discouraged. I have heardvisitors say they never saw such people as those farmers. Youcannot down them. And a farmer of the East, who is an enthusiast,knows why: It is the hope born of the possibilities that belong toeach years planting. To the man who has the love of adventure inhim, strong enough to make him as a boy run away to sea, or as aman long to join an exploring expedition to the North Pole or theAntarctic Sea-to such a one the career of a farmer offers the ele-ment of uncertainty which gives zest and interest to the pursuit.This class of men, it is very large in Kansas, have been unitedlyf rateful for their good croulness, and today they are % once m three years ; have reoiced in itseyond the need of anybodys h elp or pity.Kansas is a State that gives no uncertain vote upon any moral ques-tion-a State with enthusiasts for farmers.There are considerations, quite apart from the pursuit of agricul-ture, which are inspirinthese are the peace an 8 both for the farmer and his family-amongquiet of the country. Especially do theseappeal to those who have lived in the city, to whom the roar has

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SUCH FARMS AS DREAMS ARE MADE OFbecome a hideous din, and who have been jostled until they feel theworld is too small to contain them. To such, the peace and quietare wonderful, and their most precious result is the opportunity forindependent thou ht. The air of the countwith mens ideas t% at they must perforce be a i is not so surchargedsorbed, as is often thecase in the city.Carlyle built himself an attic study with double walls, that hemight hear himself think, while he wrote the Life of Frederickthe Great. Many another man has wished he had such an attic.Ibsen said, certainly with no small measure of truth : The mostowerfulE man in the world, is he who is most alone. One of theast Indian adepts in reply to the question, How do the masterscome by their knowledlook into your own se1P e T answered : The method is very simple ;,thin and if you do this rightly, you will see every-4 and will be under no obhgation to ask further questions.his possibility of self sight is one of the farmers richest assets.Not only when the days work is done, and night ves its specialtime for meditation, but also abroad in the fields, wit Nature as histeacher, he has opportunity to look within. He ma form his ownopinions of both men and events. To be without tK e trammels ofconventionality is his privilege.It is so well known a fact that no one would think of disit, that a large number of the men who have furnished the %utingrains,who have been the most successful business men, the most eminentscholars, the wisest statesmen in our country, have been born andbred on farms. The start they have got in thought, in enterprise,in desire to help their fellow men, has come either from the out-of-door life they have led, or as the heritage or teaching of parents whohave led such lives. From this fact, with these reflections accepted,one conclusion is inevitable : the wonderful development of naturalresources in America and the planting of institutions which havemade our land a refuge for the oppressed, a haven for the heavy-hearted, are traceable m lar e measure to the courage, the faith, thelove of the beautiful, Patura and moral, that are fed from the moun-tains and the valleys, the cooling streams and the verdant meadowswhere men may work and dream and see the open sky.

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THE PEOPLE WEEPULES VAN BIESBROCK, whose beautiful bronzeThe Pea I:le Weep stands at the entrance of thegallery of t e Luxembourg, is a Belgian painter andsculptor and a profoundly humanitarian spirit. He

belongs to a community which is one of the numerousoutgrowths of the brotherhood-of-man sentiment out-side Ghent. The piece of sculpture here re reducedshows a father and mother mourning the death of their chil f . Fromthe fathers hand hangs a little china wreath such as it is the curiousfashion of the French and Italian mourners to use for the graves oftheir dead. It is the chea f est kind of a wreath, bought, no doubt,at bitter cost of economy, or we see that the people are very poor.Yet even as the parents are bowed in grief the remaining child seeksits mothers breast -symbolic of the urge of necessity in the life ofthe poor even at the moment of the tragedy of death. A deeper ormore touching e ression of theE ven Millet wit rief of the simple could not wellbe found in art. % his great exposition of the prim-itive in art has not touched so pathetic a note. The peasant type,toil-worn, uncouth, is in this sculpture as truly represented as inMillets familiar drawings and paintings,-the heavy he1 less feetand hands, the sense of inarticulacy expressed in fi ure an% cf attitude.It is a dumb suffering that knows no words, that as no expressionsave the instinctive outreach of hand for hand, the human touch.The statue stands outside the gallery at one side of the entranceon the edge of that garden so full both of life and of memories. Thepleasure-loving crowd wandering from the pictures to the gardennever fails to pause before this pathetic group. It is one of thoseworks of art that has a universal quality, for it expresses a simple factcommon to all humanity. And it is safe to say that those who wanderon past the Macmonmes dancer and all the old familiar statues inthat garden-turning out perhaps past the moss-grown Medicifountain-will retain a remembrance of that rude picture of grieflon ; after the other art works are forgotten.t is interesting to know that the sculptor Van Biesbrock is alsoa painter, and exhibited at a recent Salon a decorative painting thatrepresents an opposite extreme of art-the thing of purely sensuoussurface beauty. It is further interesting to reflect that the combina-tion of French and Flemish apparently tends to produce this delicatesensibility to art and life, for we have a conspicuous example of thissame artistic type in the Belgian Maurice Maeterlinck.

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A RENAISSANCE IN BRICKWORK: HOW THEMODERN PRODUCT OF THE KILN IS RE-COVERING FROM THE BLIGHT OF PERFEC-TION: LESSONS TO BE LEARNED FROM THEANCIENT BRICK WORKERS

UST now in America we are at the beginning of aperiod not only of extraordinary activitv in all thecreative arts, but also of a Renaissance In industrialart conditions. In common with other nations, butto a greater degree, this country has been sufferingfrom that blight of perfection which had birthin the Victorian era and which spread for over ageneration through all phases of existence not only in England butin America. This blight was particularly serious throughout theartistic world, preventing individual expression of beauty all alongthe lines of the fine and industrial arts. And, because of our progressin science in America, and hence greater productivity of machinery,the blight increased until art achievement m every direction was posi-tively paralyzed. Our pictures and our sculpture became the slick-est (to use a good old Yankee word), most highly polished exhibitionof trivial imitation; our houses inside and out were overfinished andoverfurnished and without personal interest; our clothes were allan overfine imitation of something which we thought better; ourwoods were varnished and veneered out of all beauty and natural-ness; our bricks were painted or hidden under smooth cement, andso on through every last ramification of our artificial, highly polished,disingenuous civilization.

Now, at last, we are reacting from this. In common with othernations, we are discovering that we have been in the grip of a strangeaberration, worshipping false and foolish gods; that there is no suchthing as a perfection of beauty; that in truth there is only ever-increas-ing beauty, as there is an ever fresh, varying expression of individualunderstanding of art.Who of us shall dare to say that the Greek temple was the per-fection of architectural art, when it was followed by such achievementas the Gothic cathedral and the Norman castle; or that there couldbe no new age in sculpture after Phidias, with Meunier and Rodinand Sinding to follow ? And in painting should we refuse Twachtmana hearing because of Constable and Corot ? In truth, the life of artand its varying expressions depend only upon the extent to whichthe people of a nation have opened their minds to the inevitable526



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ORIENTAL METHOD OF INSERTING GLAZED TILE SINTO BRICKWORK AS SHOWN IN THE INTE RIORKASCHANER GATE, KUM, PERSIA.AN EXAMPLE OF MODERN T APESTRY BRICK,SHOWING INTERE STING TEXTURE AND USE OFWlDE J OINT.



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AN EXAMPLE OF MEDIA?SAL BRICKWORK SHOW-ING DECORATIVE POSSIBILIT IRS, IN THE DOORWAYOF THE CHURCH OF ST. PETE R AND ST. PAUL,BOLOGNA, ITALY.



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X THE



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A RENAISSANCE IN BRICKWORKinspiration of their surroundings, and have added to understandingthe trained eye and the technical hand.What we have been callmg perfection, then, through these lastfew decades, was merely a-degradation of the imagination, a blindnessof the eyes, and a forgettin*stone of art achievement. 53 that individuality was the very corner-ut today again that quality known astexture, which expresses the varying individuality and interest ofthe creator, which has been always in the past vital to beauty, isbecoming a final standard in industrial achievement. And so whenwe speak of the Renaissance in brickwork, we mean that here inAmerica, at least, we are again considering brickwork as an art, andbrick as a material with which to emphasize those pleasant sensa-tions of color, line and proportion known as artistic effects; and weare ceasin f to think of it as an uninteresting product of clay, a sortof artificia stone, to be used where the builder could not afford graniteor marble or some other real material, a dull, commonrelation, to be thought of only as a substitute, not in itse f desirable

lace, poorwhere im ressiveness and beauty were being sought.Now, \ ack in the Victorian period some such careless definitionof brick and its uses might have been accepted without comment,and yet even then had any of US stopped to review the actual historyof it as it can be read in museums, in ruins and in Oriental andContinental architecture, we would have realized the possibilitiesof brick, for in those early days builders knew its value and used itnobly and lastin ly.ahich has broug Possibly it has been a study of those conditionst about this Renaissance of brickwork, and whichhas inspired our manufacturers to create a new enterprise and todevelop a modern brick which should rank as a culmination of thehistory which begins back in some of the most noble architectureof Egypt.I IS impossible to say when the making of clay into bricks wasfirst practiced, but that it is a most ancient industry is establishedby a sun-baked brick in the British Museum bearing the stampof Rameses II of Eand thirty, B. C. A 1 through the Orient as also in Rome, it was theypt, which carries it back to thirteen hundredcustom to stamp the bricks with the name of the emperor in whosereign they were made, and this has been an invaluable aid in tracingthe- dates of b

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