^DECORATIVE IRONWORK ^ 



ARTHUR W. COLTON 

 AMY RICHARDS COLTON 



Editors' Note: Because of the growing popularity of ironwork as an archi- 

 tectural feature of the modern garden and dwelling, where seemingly it has come 

 to stay, some account of the origin of this ancient art and its application to the 

 every day life of past centuries is not amiss. Most of us like to know the why of 

 things, and even a commonplace object takes on a kind of beauty when invested 

 with meaning. How much more interesting the little iron cock aloft on the teahouse when we remember that his brethren twirled merri- 

 ly in the gardens of our continental forebears through all sorts of wars and weathers! 



There is a friendly reciprocity between the crafts, and ironwork owes many of its most interesting designs to the garden whose fluent 

 greenery has taken on static form under the skilful fist of the metal-worker — a grille enriched by garlands, a lantern held in place by 

 Laurel or interlacing vines — these things have double interest for the gardener; and, perhaps contrariwise, the gardener, becoming some- 

 what jealous, took to imitating the static ironwork in his "topiary." 



Mr. Colton, with the far-seeing eyes of essayist and poet, and Mrs. Colton, possessing the taste and practical point of view of the 

 trained decorator, have brought their joint gifts to this concise presentation of the history of ironwork, which will be followed in subse- 

 quent issues by articles on its present-day uses out-of-doors and in. 



I. THE ORIGINS OF IRONWORK 



;USKIN somewhere attempts to give reasons why iron 

 architecture is necessarily bad, but the reasoning 

 seemed flimsy when I read it years ago at a time when 

 Ruskin was probably more authoritative than now. 

 And yet, even now, it cannot be said that iron has won a place 

 in the conscious arts in any way commensurate with its im- 

 portance in our civilization, which is, commercially if not so- 

 cially, almost based on iron. There is an increasing demand for 

 decorative ironwork but, still, nearly all beautiful ironwork is 

 old. 



There is no definite era to be set for the beginnings of iron in 

 art, nor indeed for the use of iron to any purpose. Its use in 

 some regions is very ancient, although copper seems generally 

 to have preceded it, but very little ancient ironwork has sur- 

 vived by reason of its unfortunate habit of rusting. It is strong 

 but not enduring unless protected. The delicate gold enrich- 

 ments of the old sword are found where the sword itself is a mere 

 streak of rust. There is a meager amount of Roman ironwork 

 preserved in museums — andirons, hinges, candelabra. Roman 

 furniture was often made of iron, though still more often of 

 bronze; Roman fire-dogs found in Britain are of the same general 

 shape as those used to-day. For the purposes of this article 

 it is best to begin by 

 saying that the revival 

 of artistic ironwork in 

 western Europe — after 

 the crash of the old civi- 

 lization — seems to have 

 come, in the north, from 

 Scandinavia, which lay 

 Outside of the tumult and 

 preserved some arts that 

 had passed thither from 

 Gaul; and, in the south, 

 to have arisen in Spain 

 under Moorish influence. 

 Spain was the greatest 

 metaliferous country of 

 antiquity. No one knows 

 when the use of iron 

 began there, or that the 

 Catalan forges and anvils 

 were ever dark and si- 

 lent. Probably there was 

 an unbroken continuity 

 from Celtiberian sword 

 to the Toledo blade. The 

 best forge of antiquity 

 was the Catalan forge. 



The Scandinavian came in the unpleasant form of Viking 

 invaders. They devastated the coasts of Europe, but they 

 introduced some forgotten arts. The prevalence in subsequent 

 Scandinavian and German ironwork of various conventionalized 

 animals looks back to this old story. The classic draperies, 

 laurels, vines, and inscriptions, being meaningless to the man 

 of the north, became transfigured into snakes, birds, and other 

 animals that meant something to his superstition; and gnomes 

 and elves took the place of cupids. Teutonic ironwork still 

 maintains this tradition in the relatively greater part played 

 in its designing by animal figures. 



W. S. Gardner, one of our chief authorities on the history of 

 ironwork, calls the Middle Ages to the 14th century the "Age of 

 the Blacksmith"; and then, after a period of transition, thei5th 

 and 1 6th centuries he designates as the "Age of the Locksmith" 

 — the difference between the two crafts being that the black- 

 smith works while the iron is hot. It is a facile metal then and 

 yields to his swift hammer, but presently resumes its grim re- 

 sistance; and whatever he does, he must do quickly. Moreover, 

 to the medieval smith, his iron did not come ready rolled in 



various sections, sizes, and shapes, 

 from the rough. Hence there is a 



OVER-DOOR SCREEN OF FLORAL MOTIF 



301 



Metropolitan Museum of Art 



SEVENTEENTH CENTURY, GERMAN 



He had to beat it all out 

 kind of interest about a 

 medieval piece of iron- 

 work that modern ex- 

 amples can seldom equal. 

 Every old piece has its 

 own irregularity and pe- 

 culiar surfaces. 



IN THE 15th century 

 the file and saw began 

 in part to take the place 

 of hammer and anvil, and 

 more elaborate designs 

 became possible. It was 

 the locksmiths, especially 

 the Italian, who had 

 already developed tradi- 

 tional skill in this sort of 

 work. Hence the term 

 "Age of Locksmiths" for 

 the 15th and 16th cen- 

 turies. The accuracy of 

 the file and saw makes 

 possible more intricate 

 design and more minute 

 detail, but there is a 

 spontaneity and virility 

 in "forged work, when 



