International studio (51.1913/1914)

IVhat Tale does this Tapestry Tell?

WHAT TALE DOES THIS
TAPESTRY TELL?
BY CHARLES de KAY
Along with changes in our
domestic architecture which tend toward buildings
of stone or concrete, buildings that offer large
wall spaces in halls, corridors and music rooms,
goes a return of favour to tapestries. Tapestries
have once more a function. It is not enough that
the owner of a fine web studies each apartment for
a wall from which to suspend his favourite piece.
When he builds he asks that provision be made for
his textile treasure, so that he may see it in a good
light. If the wall is of the right size and there be
light enough, all is well.
To enjoy old tapestries fully one has to remem-
ber the social conditions of the Middle Ages, when
they reached their highest levels; not merely the
big rooms with wall spaces more or less rudely
finished, before which these great products of the
loom were suspended in order to cut off some of
the chilliness and damp of a wretchedly warmed
interior—not merely the physical effects of the
hangings; one must recall the mental attitude of
the people for whom they were made. These
people were for the most part descendants, or
believed themselves, the descendants, of a caste of
conquerors. Toward the lower classes they felt
very much as the Spanish and Portuguese creoles
of Mexico and South America of our epoch feel
toward peons and other Indian folk. We get a
strong whiff of this intolerance in the “Lay of the
Little Bird,” an old French poem based on a
theme which has been traced to Palestine and to
India. The story is that of a man who catches a
bird in his fowling-net, but before he can kill it,
the bird entreats him to be spared and promises if
he is set free to give him three rules for conduct
which will make him great. The garden in which
the fable is placed is a wonderful spot that be-
longed formerly to nobles but has.fallen into the
hands of a rustic, stingy and violent, who, while
listening to the magical song of the bird, imagines
that the fountain where it holds forth is sur-
rounded by noble dames and cavaliers, his own
admirers and friends. The poet knew well how
to appeal to his auditors when describing the greed
of the rich rustic, his silly dreams and the clever
way the bird took to escape and then to convict
the nouveau riche of failing to profit by the rules
of conduct just a moment before prescribed.
Les feuilles cheirent dou pint
Li vergiers jailli et secha

Et la jontaine restancha;
Li vilains perdit son deduit.
Or, sachent bien totes et tuit
Li proverbes dit en apert:
Cil qui tot convoite tot pert.
“The leaves fell from the trees—the meadows
failed and dried up—and the fountain went dry—
the villain lost his property—Well, let all and
some understand—the proverb says clearly—he
who grasps all loses all.”
A tapestry wrought about a.d. 1500 in Brus-
sels, which is figured here, brings one back to this
frame of mind. It is such a scene as the Bird of
Magic conjured up in the soul of the poor Rich
Rustic as he stood by the fountain and listened
to the Lai de VOiselet. It is the stately garden
party of the royal Court, perhaps an interlude,
with music and strolling in the park during the
course of a banquet. In the palace the tables are
being cleared, peradventure, and being reset with
fruit and wines, and presently all of the groups
here depicted, the crowned king at their head, will
step rhythmically back again and settle down for
dessert. We see the king leaning against a column
of a kiosk in the upper right-hand corner. In the
left upper corner is a group of ladies and gentle-
men, singing. The centre has a curious late-
Gothic fountain house, behind which are musi-
cians. In front of the fountain are the two figures
which contain the key to the play—for a glance is
enough to show that we have here an “illustra-
tion” in tapestry, a crisis in a tale of love well
known. What is this tale?
Observe that the graceful lady in front of the
fountain is passing her fingers under the jet, and is
attended by a page who carries ewer and napkin,
a suggestion of the Middle-Age banquet as it was
arranged after the Crusades on Oriental lines.
Opposite her and bowing low is a youthful, vigor-
ous man, who seems to have hastened forward to
the fountain as if he asked the courtesy from her
of a similar ablution. It is the lover seizing a
pretext to approach his love. There are twenty-
nine figures in this piece of tapestry, or, at any
rate, twenty-nine faces, yet among them all there
is only one that seems to regard the actions of the
two central figures intently. Their actions, there-
fore, may be supposed of no particular importance
as such, but merely natural in the conditions.
Most important, however, is the exception. The
king, up there in the belvedere, with his right arm
encircling one of the columns that support the
roof, bends upon these two a look full of suspicion
and melancholy. He alone betrays a passion—

CLIX