while centering the educational work in one place in the province and giving that work a high standard, has at the same time lifted the whole burden of its support from the shoulders of the Government. The latter, with the small sum of $3,500 per year has been able to call to its aid in forming a provincial university, bodies having very large investments in buildings and plant, and paying out all told, probably not less than $100,000 per year. It cannot be supposed such a one-sided partnership will continue for all time, and when the days of a fuller revenue come, the government will undoubtedly assume a larger share of responsibility.

Not the least gratifying effect of this intimate as.

REV. JOHN M. KING, D.D. Principal Manitoba College.

REV. J. W. SPARLING, D.D. Principal Wesley College.

sociation and co-operation of the colleges, is the spirit of fraternity which it creates among the students, who, while loyal to their own colleges, feel all drawn together in the bounds of their common university. Whispers of still other colleges are in the air, and when these are founded their students will join the brotherhood without any need for re-adjustment or re-arrangement. In thus presenting a type for a model provincial university, where the uniformity of a high standard is combined with liberty in methods of teaching, supervision and management, the University of Manitoba is well worthy of study by other provinces.

James Lawler.

T is a foolish lamentation in most cases, as Solomon tells us, when we complain that the former days were better than our own; but in the case of the decorative arts it has unfortunately some grounds. Schools of design have, no doubt, done much in late years to reintroduce sound principles, but whether it be the introduction of machinery, or whatever other causes had such a deadening effect on art in general, the fact remains that popular taste is not so good as it was in simpler times and, in fact, in the majority of uncivilized nations.

Pictorial Art demands knowledge and intellect both to produce and to appreciate it, and therefore the mass of mankind will always be content with something short of the best. But pictures are a luxury from which it is possible to escape; decoration, however, is always and everywhere with us. And it is an important thing whether it is good or bad, since every kind of human being has the instinct of ornamenting the things which he uses and lives by, and with, and in. And it is a true instinct. Look at nature, always the standard of art; in nature there is a purpose for everything-for the leaf, for the flower, for the stem, and yet to all is given not only usefulness for their purpose, but beauty. Mankind, on the contrary, have nowadays so far dissociated beauty and utility that the word useful almost suggests ugliness.

We are often told that works of art, as art, cannot be moral or immoral, that moral qualities do not apply to art at all; but we must also remember that when God pronounced all his work

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able, we may safely say that lack of taste, as of virtue, is one of the characteristics of fallen human nature which will some day be changed. There will be nothing ugly in heaven, of that we may be sure, and one fails to see any reason why beauty, which is God's, should be disregarded here; and surely every effort to get people to prefer what is beautiful and good to what is ugly is worth the making.

The man who shall produce an improvement in the style of the ordinary articles of commerce, who shall make it possible to go into a house of a middling sort and not to be shocked at the marvellous display of wallpaper, carpet and curtain, is a man who in no small degree deserves the thanks of his country.

"Style," I said; have we anything which can be called distinctively Canadian style? What is style? In literature it means the manner in which a writer's thoughts are expressed in words; in art it means the manner in which the thoughts, or, rather, the feelings, are expressed in form and colour; and what the style of any country is depends primarily upon the architects.

If the preponderating sentiments of any age or place are pure and lofty, if they are ignoble and mean, the style of art of that people will be found to correspond. Greek art rose with the worship of God and the sense of beauty; later, the religious instinct faded away, and the art became more sensual. Transferred to Rome, it added power and splendour to its own sensuousness. The Romanesque and Gothic styles. were again dominated by religious. sentiment; so much so that all kinds of things partook of an ecclesiastical character. The Renaissance, again, brought paganism and sensuous beauty to the front. Since that time there have been imitations, adaptations, and

very good" it was also very beautiful, and that goodness must be beautiful, and the perfection of goodness is the perfection of beauty. Therefore, though artistic taste and virtue in human beings are by no means insepar

mixings of various types and qualities, of which the French modification of Renaissance style, called Rococo, has unfortunately the widest influence.

These styles are of course primarily architectural styles; and this is natural, for decoration pre-supposes something to decorate, i. e., construction. Thus every change of style is first of all a change in construction; and each kind of construction has its own kind of decoration, which must be kept distinct, so that there may be a unity of design. Of course there may be exceptions to such a rule. Things will Things will always be right if they are done in good taste, for this is after all the ultimate standard; but the rule must be acknowledged as a rule au moins que sie wollen to mix ogni genera tês architektonikés, as the languages, ancient and modern, are mixed in this sentence, the result of which, though intelligible, is grotesque.

A further question is: "Why are the modes of construction different?" And this brings us to the root of the matter; it is because they were found to be useful.* No genuine style is developed consciously "because it looks pretty;" they grow up one from another as new needs arise, or as new discoveries are made. made. The Egyptians wanted their buildings to last, and they have lasted. The Greeks wanted beauty, and they got it, and it has been a standard ever since. The Romans wanted something larger than the Greeks had any need for, and they took the Arch from the Etruscans and covered the ground with it.

Printing and the Reformation made men dissatisfied with the mysticism and conventionalism of later Gothic, and the Renaissance brought them back to a more real study of nature, and to the newly-discovered classics. But

*NOTE.-It is a libel to contrast the useful with the ornamental. Take anything which is ornamental without having any use, and you will find it either a piece of bad taste or some temporary fancy of fashion, which will soon pass away, and no longer be considered ornamental. The best style, in construction or decoration, is the best combination of use and beauty. Look at the perfection of nature. Was the Derby ever won by an ugly horse? The human body is perhaps the culmination of beautiful form, and every part has its use; it is just where anyone's limbs are less beautiful that they are less adapted for their proper work.

the architects of Louis XIV. wanted something new, and tried to make it without any study of principles or of nature, and so they broke up all the lines of the Renaissance decoration, and replaced them by fantastic curves, which, though meaningless and unnatural, are suitable for gilding, and express, as with a flourish, the greatness of "le Grand Monarque."

The former changes of style were genuine and natural, each one good of its kind, with construction for its basis. . Rococo made the fatal mistake of striving after originality, and of constructing ornament instead of ornamenting construction; and it is really to the baneful influence of this style, and its attempt to be striking without taking the trouble to be true, that we owe so much of the villainous work that we

see.

So far we have reached two principles, viz., that decoration must follow construction, and that ornament must have its foundation in usefulness. A third is contained in them-that art must follow nature. Now, this can take place in two ways—for art is man's way of looking at nature; so that it makes a difference whether he is studying it with the purpose of making a picture, which is to be looked at for itself, or ornament, which is to get a passing glance, which is to make a background and enhance the value of other work.

In neither case will it be an exact reproduction of all details, because this does not give the impression which the eye receives from any single aspect, and also because, if it were possible, the result would he deception rather than artistic pleasure-Mme. Tussaud's wax-works compared with the National Gallery.

Taking foliage for an example, the painter tries to convey an impression of what it looks like by tone and massing of form and colour. He is not concerned to demonstrate the fact that the leaves grow in sets of five or seven; in fact, the very growth of the leaves tends to conceal the geometrical regularity of their structure, and tells us

that they have no two forms alike. The ornamentist, on the other hand, seeks to reproduce what is, not what appears, and by a careful study of the individual he obtains from its infinite variety a typical form, a generalization which contains all the essential elements of the plant in their geometrical regularity.

Any pattern, therefore, which is meant to represent the natural object pictorially or realistically is to be avoided. Why? If you had a portrait gallery consisting entirely of copies of the same portrait, what would be the effect? Even different portraits of the same person would be wearying, though they were well done. Now, the ornamental feature in a pattern has to be continually repeated. Supposing, then, the pattern to consist of roses if each one is a good pictorial representation of a rose it will become monotonous by repetition, and each specimen will be always calling out for particular inspection, and so will be out of its proper subordinate place; whereas a conventional treatment of it will not only gain by the repetition, but will suffer little or nothing from roughness in execution. But since the pictorial representation which is possible in a good many materials is far from good, we have as a result an abominably bad copy perpetuated in any sort of colour all over the floor or wall.

One of the first things one looks for in a textile fabric is that the design should be flat. The pattern of a carpet, particularly, ought to be flat; it is not pleasant to see the floor covered with huge, sprawling vegetables with deep holes, perhaps, between them, or to find some point here and there positively getting up and barking at one! There can not be a greater virtue in any floor decoration than unobtrusiveness, and that is why the designs of Oriental, and particularly Persian, artists are so good, because they fulfil this useful purpose so well; and they do it mostly by geometrical arrangements. Now this effect does not preclude richness, and it doesn't require faint colours. You may have a carpet most

restful to the eye, with good, strong primary colours; in fact, it is much more likely to be restful than if it is done in light, washy colours. Think of the usefulness. If you want to show things off-pictures, people, dressesdo you give them a white and light background? The Moorish Arabs, whose decorative taste was exquisite, almost always used red for a background, and any good picture gallery is hung in red. This does not, of course, mean that all floors should be red, but depth of colour is a great relief in a floor, and makes a good foundation for anything above it, as furniture, walls, or people.

This principle of usefulness will stand a lot of working. If only what was there for a purpose was ornamented, the world would have fewer absurdities stuck on things "to look pretty." If a thing is pretty and worth looking at for its own sake, let us look at it by all means, and let it have its own place, and so its proper use.

Dress is perhaps too delicate a subject to touch on here, but, after all, ladies' dress is decoration, and when fashions are continually changing, merely for the sake of novelty in the interests of those who make them, beauty can only occur in them accidentally; while the supremacy of fashion is such as to absolutely pervert the judgment while any style is in vogue; and how terrible do the majority of fashions look when lapsed time has taken the glamour off them! The women of ancient Greece dressed most simply and most beautifully, and they had no changes of fashion to speak of. Was there ever anything uglier than the present male garb? Yet, put a man to do anything vigourous or violent, and his costume is adapted to it, and becomes unintentionally more picturesque.

Even in appearance the principle of utility should be preserved. It is not fair to make a useful thing and put it into a shape which gives an impression that it cannot fulfil its purpose. Again, a thing which looks right, but is evidently made of some sham material

which will come to pieces with the least provocation, is bad. Good taste shrinks instinctively from sham ornànament, from cotton-wool-snow in church decorations, from houses daubed with plaster to pretend they are built of large stones. Not that plaster is bad in itself; honest plaster, inside or out, has its uses and is quite satisfactory; but pretending to be what you are not is a fault as much in art as in the conduct of life.

I am afraid it must be said that we see more bad ornament than good in these days, and as this seems to be owing to the French influence of last century, a few words are due to Rococo style. Its principal fault is that it is not founded upon construction; it is a style consisting wholly of ornament laid over the construction so as to obscure it. It becomes, therefore, meaningless, for it has no basis in utility, and it has also a natural tendency to excess; whereas self-control is as valuable in ornament as it is anywhere else.

Now, it is an excellent thing sometimes to break up lines. It avoids monotony and gives richness. But if you adopt any such a principle without mitigation it must lead to disastrous results, and this does appear to be the principle which the designers of the latter French kings had in mind.

A gable end is meant to let the rain run off your wall instead of getting down between the stones; if, therefore, you break the slope in two, and put in a great curve, you are frustrating the ends of common sense for the sake of ornament. Again, the part of a building, arch, frame, chain, or what not, which supports the weight, ought to look as if it were doing so; it ought to look strong, and there is a sufficient beauty in strength that we should be content with it. But if you want to support a weight you put a vertical straight line under it, because the law of gravity tells us that this is the direction in which weight is felt. If, then, I have a pier supporting an arch, this cannot avoid being in a straight line. Now, I want to decorate it; the

decoration must also run in straight lines. I can put panels there, one on top of the other, if I choose, but they will only suggest separate blocks of masonry one on another, and the lines of them must also run straight and have a general vertical continuity, and then the thing will look strong. But break up the straight lines, substitute bits of curves, fantastically standing one on another, and the semblance of strength is gone at once. The solid stone which does the work does not show; the curves, dandified and gilded plaster, seem ashamed to own that what is behind them is doing the hard work. This is hypocrisy in art, and it is typical of the selfish nobility of the Ancien Régime, who, ashamed of working themselves, pretended that they alone were the French nation.

Take a chair or sofa; its legs should be strong enough to support it. What is the sense, then, of carving them into a leaf, or a combination of leaves, standing on end by some miracle? It gives one an uncomfortable sensation to see lines that are required to be straight writhing and twisting in an agony of misconstruction. It is bad enough that such work should be obviously stuck on and gilded, but it is more absurd and vulgar when it is the ground material which is so carved up.

Another great vice in this style is the want of symmetry, for this is a necessity in decoration. If in the composition of a picture you put, instead of proportion and balance, an exact symmetry the effect will be seen at once to be decorative rather than pictorial. On the other hand, take any number of things-whether ugly or beautiful in themselves it does not matter-and arrange them symmetrically and geometrically and they will be decorative. A square, for instance, is a very simple form, not strikingly beautiful, and a number of squares together is the same, but put them in stone, as they often occur in Norman work, and you see at once that they are eminently decorative.

Symmetry is the rule in nature, to which all particular specimens are in