Part 9

The Associated Artists, as first organized, was directed by Mrs. Wheeler and three gentlemen, artists like herself—Mrs. Wheeler having charge of the needlework department; one gentleman, of interior wood decoration; another, of glass painting, and the third, of the color scheme, painting, etc. They undertook the interior finish of rooms and houses upon entirely new decorative notions. Among their public undertakings, also, were the entire interior decoration of the Madison Square Theater, including the drop curtain; the finish of the “Veterans’ Room” in the Seventh Regiment Armory, and parts of the Union League Club House.

The business success of the Associated Artists grew on the managers. The educational and philanthropic aims were in danger of being overshadowed by the commercial consideration, and New York gave them abundant employment without their going into all the world and preaching the gospel of beauty and self-help to all women. Moreover, Mrs. Wheeler’s department in the work grew so rapidly and opened out possibilities of development and creation so great, that she decided to make it a special and separate enterprise. This she did three years ago, retaining the name, Associated Artists.

Success has vindicated the wisdom of the segregation, while the other members of the older organization have not suffered by the separation. From that time to the present the enterprise has been managed and worked by women only.

The gentlemen formerly of the Associated Artists are working on independent lines. The decoration of the new Lyceum Theater, New York, is the latest and greatest triumph of one of them.

The Associated Artists now have to do with decoration as using or applied to textile fabrics, including as well all upholstery as the hangings, draperies, tapestry and applied decoration of any part of a room. In the building which they occupy in East Twenty-third Street, there are large exhibition and salesrooms, the studios or designing rooms, the departments of embroidery, of tassels, fringes, etc., of tapestry, and the curtain department—an entire floor. There are about sixty employes.

This is an art school as well as a business house. Many women come to them with no other preparatory training than the drawing lessons of our public schools afford. The best talent is furnished by the Women’s Art School of Cooper Union. Aside from such preparation, the Associated Artists furnish the education of their own designers and workers. Unendowed, small, modest and young as it is, we shall see in what respects this American school has outstripped the great English institution.

One of the most serious obstacles that the effort to create American design has had to meet, is the lack of suitable materials to work with. All imported textiles were found to be, in color, texture and pattern, unsuited to the new uses and ideas; and American manufacturers were so much under tutelage to European tastes, that nothing different was to be had from them. It is a fact as lamentable as it is astonishing, that a carpet, wall paper or textile mill in this country rarely has an American designer of patterns and colors. The schemes of color made by the Associated Artists were out of harmony with French, English and American fabrics and embroidery materials. The colors of these were too sharp, strong and cardinal for the blending of tones that was sought.

To meet this case a Massachusetts silk mill was engaged to manufacture, first embroidery silks of the desired shades; and, that being accomplished, to undertake the coloring of fabrics. The greater step to the manufacture of special fabrics was next taken. Now the Associated Artists use only materials made for them in this country.

There are three different mills engaged on their work, one of which last year supplied them with $30,000 worth. The work is a great advertisement to a mill—such recognition have these fabrics gained, here and in Europe, for fineness, design and beauty. Several European decorators of first rate have sent for samples of them. Foreign artists and designers visiting this country regularly have in their note-book memoranda to see the wonderful new American fabrics at the Associated Artists. These goods have also been used for garments. Mrs. Langtry, Mrs. Cornwallis West and Ellen Terry bought largely of them for their wardrobes. Felix Moschelles, artist, and son of that Moschelles who was the biographer of Mendelssohn, declared that there was nothing in Europe to compare with these joint products of American artists and artisans. Truly, there is nothing on the shelves of dry goods men on either continent to match them; they revive the traditions of the wonderful products of Oriental looms.

Another _chef d’œuvre_ of these artists is their tapestry work. It has the definiteness and freedom of drawing, and the delicacy and feeling of color of an oil painting; nay, deft fingers with a needle and thread can produce effects in colors that the painter’s brush can not, because colored threads reflect and complement each other. This work is done upon the surface of a canvas, the stitch being similar to that used upon “honey comb canvas,” all surface work. To make it more effective, a fabric has been woven with a double warp, the embroidery being run in under the upper thread, somewhat like darning. The process and fabrics were invented by Mrs. Wheeler and are protected by letters-patent in this country and Europe.

A portrait was woven in this way, thread by thread, so faithful as to be preferred by the family, to the best work they had of photographer or painter. A piece of this tapestry has been under the hands of from one to three embroiderers—or darners, if you please—every day for nearly a year. It is one of ten large needle-work pictures of American subjects now in preparation. One of them is a Zuni Indian girl, by Miss Rosina Emmett, and another, “Hiawatha,” a typical Indian girl of the North, by Miss Dora Wheeler. (These two artists are directors of the Association.) The pictures are life size, and are very characteristic studies. The remaining eight tapestries are mainly upon events of American history. Only close examination would convince any one that they were not oil paintings. After seeing this work I am inclined to think less of the famous Bayeux tapestry and all other pictorial needlework. William the Conqueror was unwise not to have deferred his exploits until Yankee girls could embroider them. The best we can now offer William is to invade and conquer England over again—with American tapestry.

These high-class works are mentioned simply to show the height that this line of decorative art has reached, in a short time, by the efforts of native genius and mechanical skill.

Nor is the story yet all told of the relation of design to manufactures. One of the largest manufacturers of paper hangings in this country not long since offered prizes amounting to $2,000 for the best four designs for wall paper. The competition was great, sixty designs being entered by European artists, and many times more by American. When the awards were opened the examining committee, as well as the donors, were astonished to learn that the Associated Artists had taken all the prizes, the European trained talent none. Now, the freshest, best-selling patterns for wall paper are of American design.

There is more still to tell that is gratifying to patriotism. These efforts have discovered to the world, as a fact, what was before the cherished theory of a few, viz.: that an American school of art already existed, dominant in brains and hands, waiting to be awakened to activity. There is a distinctive character in all that has been done in decoration, different from anything seen in other people’s work. It has a nationality in choice of subjects and materials, an originality in conception, a freedom and freshness in treatment, that fairly mark the beginning of a new school. More than that, when the work of native designers has come in comparison with that of the Kensington or other schools, it has justified the opinion that was expressed at the outset as to the ability of our women to surpass the latter.

When the Decorative Society was organized, it sent to Kensington for a teacher, and employed the one that was the most highly recommended by the management there. At the close of the very first lesson that was given by this instructor to the leading ladies of the society, she was overcome by the reception her teaching had met. “Why,” she said, ruefully, “these ladies have got from me, in a single lesson, all that I know. _I have nothing more to teach them._” This incident reveals the reason for the contrast in work—gives the explanation of the stereotyped forms and stiff designs of the foreign school. The difference is in the human material that enters into the work in either case—the difference of development and general culture back of special art training. The English girl who is forced to earn a livelihood by needlework, and qualifies therefor at Kensington, represents a different order of preparatory training, general culture, social position and aims, from those leaders in art who engage in the work _con amore_ in this country. But there is, also, a race difference that runs through all society in both countries. The American woman is a thinker—the English an observer; the American woman is by nature an innovator, the English conventional; the one an originator, the other an imitator. The same climatic, dietary, social and political influences that make the American artisan the most inventive and free handicraftsman in the world; the American business man the most daring and rapid, have conspired to make their sisters, and their cousins, and their aunts the most original and apt pupils of art in the world. We may confidently look to them, and the sons that they shall give their country, to go on and create for it a school of art as free and as characteristic as are all our institutions.

The movement is but in the embryo stage. All this is the result of a single effort, and it is still young. Time is of the essence of art culture, and the United States offers ample verge and scope enough for a wonderful work in the future. The field for invention in decorative art is boundless, because genius may touch every item and phase of home and carry into the innermost life of the whole people the refining influence of Beauty.

SOME MODERN LITERARY MEN OF GERMANY.

Professor George Ebers, the distinguished Egyptologist, strange to say, is known in America more by his novels than by his scientific attainments. He had a severe attack of rheumatism, or something similar, which confined him to his bed for a long time, but did not prevent him from using his mind, and during this tedious suffering he undertook, as I think he himself relates, in the preface of his first novel, to put into story facts and history with which his mind was so richly stored. The work grew and fascinated him, and now I dare say it has not only become remunerative but beguiling. Since the death of Prof. Lepsius, the distinguished scholar of Egyptian history, George Ebers will doubtless stand in his stead as the next best informed man in Germany, on Egypt. The deceased Lepsius thought highly of one of our countrymen, Dr. Joseph P. Thompson, as a successful student under him, and here we pay a tribute of respect to this generous man who never failed to escort party after party of Americans through the Egyptian department of the Berlin Museum, explaining the tombs and reading the inscriptions. “The Egyptian King’s Daughter” is the title of Ebers’s most elaborate novel, and if one is disposed to read it carefully and observe all the foot-notes, there is quite a chance for the reader to feel delighted with himself for all he can acquire in this way about Egypt, and to have an inexpressible longing for more. And what a power of enchanting one these Egyptians have, with their gloomy and mystified learning, and their frequent contemplation of death. To give the reader an idea of Ebers’s style, in romance writing and subject matter, we quote what accurate pictures he gives of all the state of affairs in Egypt. Speaking of the schools or universities, in his novel entitled “Uarda,” he says: “The lower school was open to every son of a free citizen, and was often frequented by several hundred boys, who also found night quarters there. The parents were, of course, required either to pay for their maintenance or to send due supplies of provision for the keep of their children at school. This university, or school, was connected with the House of Seti, or one of the sanctuaries of the Necropolis, founded by Rameses I, and carried on by his son Seti. High festivals were held there in honor of the god of the gods of the under world. This extensive building was intended to be equal to the great original foundations of priestly learning at Heliopolis and Memphis; they were regulated on the same pattern, and with the object of raising the royal residence of Upper Egypt, namely, Thebes, above the capitals of Lower Egypt, in regard to philosophical distinction.” “Many proficient in the healing art,” he tells us, “were brought up in the house of Seti, but few need to remain after passing the examination of the degree of Scribe. The most gifted were sent to Heliopolis, where flourished in the great “Hall of the Ancients,” the most celebrated medical faculty of the whole country, whence they returned to Thebes, endowed with the highest honors in surgery, in ocular treatment, or in any other branch of their profession, and became physicians to the king, or made a living by imparting their learning, and by being called in to consult on serious cases.” From this short extract from Ebers any one can see that he treats his situations, although lying so remote in history, in the most simple and natural manner. Egypt, with her enormous architecture, her ponderous institutions, peculiar beliefs and somber, heated atmosphere, is not to him the dark “sorceress of the Nile,” but a real, breathing and tangible thing—he has so seriously studied her that he writes of her as he would of a familiar friend in whom he is intensely interested.

Ebers not alone excels in historical pictures and accurate descriptions, but he has, as a novelist, much feeling, and makes clear comments on human nature—for example, in writing of Nebsecht, the learned surgeon, in his novel “Uarda,” he says: “Nebsecht was of the silent, reserved nature of the learned man, who, free from all desire of external recognition, finds a rich satisfaction in the delights of investigation; and he regarded every demand on him to give proof of his capacity, as a vexatious but unavoidable intrusion on his unanswering but laborious and faithful investigations.” Then he remarks Nebsecht loved Pentaur, who possessed all the gifts he lacked, manly beauty, child-like lightness of heart, the frankest openness, artistic power, and the gift of expressing in word and song every emotion that stirred his soul.

Again, behold the picture or a glimpse into a feast of the best Egyptians. In an open court, surrounded by gaily painted wooden pillars, and lighted by many lamps, sat the feasting priests in two long rows, on comfortable arm chairs. Before each stood a little table, and servants were occupied in supplying them with the dishes and drinks which were laid out on a splendid table in the middle of the court. Joints of gazelle, roasted geese and ducks, meat pasties, artichokes, asparagus, and other vegetables and various cakes and sweet-meats were carried to the guests, and their beakers well filled with the choice wines of which there was never a lack in the lofts of the house of Seti. In the spaces between the guests stood servants with metal bowls, in which they might wash their hands, and towels of fine linen.

“Tante Therese,” a drama in four acts by Paul Lindau, is a cleverly conceived and brightly written thing, showing that the writer is full of pathos and wit. The audience cried and laughed and applauded the first night it was given in Berlin. In fact, Lindau is so sharp a critic and so talented a writer, that, as editor of _Die Gegenwart_, a neat and pungent weekly, he was a great potentate in Berlin society. His pen spared no one—musician, artist, soldier—and even royalty fell under its point if he, Lindau, was not in sympathy with their productions or actions. He is the life of a dinner party, the most interested musician and art connoisseur, and among journalists and in the literary coterie he is the star which lights or exposes the objects around. His reviews in _Die Gegenwart_ (The Present) are somewhat after the matter of the reviews in _The Nation_—a little pessimistic or hypercritical, but always accomplishing their object, and whatever comes from his pen is looked for with eagerness. With a lovely home, and a beautiful young wife to do its honors, he attracts about him many brilliant companies. He was once thrown into prison for having written something which was not prudent in regard to government matters—the press being not so free in Germany, as the reader will observe, as in this country.

Dr. Julius Rodenburg, editor of _Die Rundschau_, is of Jewish extraction, resembling Felix Mendelssohn so much that one must immediately remark it. As Mendelssohn was also a Jew, the association seems to grow more intimate in one’s mind, as an acquaintance with this light-hearted, spirited man progresses. He seems never to be weary—the world and his friend have a charm for him, and he and his intelligent wife know well how to attract them to their weekly receptions. They both speak English well, and have spent some time in England. He has published a little book entitled “Ferien in England”—Vacation in England.

Sometimes he comes out in his review, which corresponds to our _Atlantic Monthly_, with learned and elaborate articles, but his time is, as editor, consumed with other people’s productions. Editors of papers and presidents of colleges have little time for anything but reflection upon the merits or demerits of others.

Ferdinand Gregorovius, half German and half Italian, has published four volumes of the “History of Rome,” also in 1874 a very attractive volume on “Lucrezia Borgia.” In the back of the book appears a _fac-simile_ letter from Pope Alexander IV. to Lucrezia, and one of hers to Isabella Gonzogo—most curious documents.

Dr. Friedrich Kapp, who came to America when Carl Schurz did, returned after a short residence and entered political life in his own country. Beyond his exertion in this direction he has found time for considerable literary work; has edited the “Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin,” which contains a preface by Berthold Auerbach. Dr. Kapp is better known, perhaps, through the press, than through his books.

Adolf Stahr, in his book on Goethe’s “Frauengestalten,” or female characters, gives a close analysis, and if the same theme has been written and rewritten upon as all Goethe’s productions have, Stahr maintains a dignified review, as if he were surveying the subjects for the first time. His wife, who is a novelist, is equally literary, and the two old people have grown beautiful in common sympathy in their winter work and summer resorts. She attracts more attention than he at a fashionable watering place, but one is the accompaniment of the other, and both have done honest, good work.

HISTORIC NIAGARA.

BY EDITH SESSIONS TUPPER.

The Chautauquan takes back to his or her busy life in the school room, the college chair, the pulpit, the sanctum, the parlor, and the kitchen, many beautiful pictures of memory.

In fancy does one often see the branches of grand old trees, fit pillars of one of God’s first temples, cross above one’s head, making a network for the laughing, blue, summer skies; in imagination does one again see a green landscape turn golden in the light of a fast setting sun. Ah! those vistas about the Hall in the Grove; can not you see those leafy avenues bending down to the lovely lake, now in the early morning stretching glassy and waveless, now at noon, tumbling and tossing its white caps abroad, now in the solemn night lying black and motionless, and reflecting the light of stars? Can one who has seen the moon rise over Long Point ever forget the sight? Recall now that midsummer night, when drifting out in your boat you idly watched those masses of clouds shift, part and separate to let the white glory of the moon shine through! How serene and lofty she hung, poised in mid-heaven. Higher and higher she climbed, pouring her wealth of light down upon the clouds heaped beneath her, until they, massed and piled upon each other, seemed like the glittering domes and towers of a city not made with hands. In vivid fancy you could almost trace the shining streets of gold, the gates of pearl, the walls of precious stones. The summer wind sighed softly around; the murmuring waters rippled about the keel of your boat; on the shore the lights danced and flickered like fireflies. Such a night is never to be forgotten. It is a scene of enchantment, a mid-summer night’s dream.

“In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees And they did make no noise in such a night, Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls, And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid’ lay that night.

“In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand, Upon the wild sea banks, and waved her love To come again to Carthage.”

Ah! these beautiful pictures “that hang on memory’s wall,” these day dreams, by their potent magic, heal the heart and brain when life’s fret and worry are hardly to be endured. A writer has truly said:

“’Tis well to dream.”

“I dream, and straightway there before me lies A valley beautifully green and fair; Bright, sparkling lakes, blue as the summer skies, And trees and flowers dot it here and there.

“I wake, and straightway all familiar things Display new beauty to my wondering gaze. My soul refreshed by wandering, folds her wings And finds contentment in life’s common ways.”

To all these beautiful pictures of memory many a Chautauquan adds the remembrance of one indescribable scene—a look at the great fall.