Plate IV.
ANTIQUE SEHNA
From the Collection of the Author
Size: 2.4 x 3.1
This is apparently one side of a pillow. The other side, which is also in the possession of the author, is exactly similar, except that the colours are reversed, the medallion being red and the corners blue. This mat has 33 to 36 knots to the running inch, making over 1,000 to the square inch, or more than a million knots in the small piece.
The Persians are eminently the best rugs to buy. They are usually finer and more closely woven than the others, and more graceful in design, and seem to show a more refined and aristocratic art. The Kirmans would be the first choice, and are to the rug dealer what diamonds are to the jeweller, a staple article which he must keep in stock, and which finds a ready sale. But even were it possible to buy a true diamond Kirman, the very catholicity of taste to which diamonds and Kirmans appeal detract from their merit in the eyes of those who seek for more individuality. For the new Kirmans, fine, soft, and clean as they look, are all very much alike, and mostly copies or variations of a few particular antique forms, with a floriated medallion in the centre, or a full floriated panel, and floriated corners. A familiar design is a vase of flowers in graceful spread, with birds perching on the sprays. Or, again, they show some adaptation of “the tree of life.” This symbolical figure appears in many forms, now denuded of its leaves like the “barren fig tree,” and covering the whole rug, and now in smaller form as “the cypress tree,” or the sacred “cocos,” three or more to each rug, in full foliage and looking for all the world like certain wooden fir trees. It needs only the combination of these trees with the stiff wooden animals, far more wonderful than Noah ever knew, and tiny human figures, which might be Shem, Ham, and Japhet, all of which adorn these rugs, to remind one of the Noah’s ark of childhood. Representations of birds, men, and animals never appear on Turkish rugs, the explanation being that the Turks, as Sunna Mohammedans, the orthodox sect, are opposed to them on religious grounds; while the Shiites, the prevailing sect in Persia, have no such scruples.
But before leaving the subject of the Kirmans, be it well understood, by the wise and prudent, that not one out of a thousand, or indeed ten thousand, of those on the market to-day (and they are as common as door-mats) has any pretence to genuineness. They are faked in every way. They are washed with chemicals to give them their soft colourings, they are made by wholesale and, it is said, in part by machinery, and they are no more an Oriental rug than is a roll of Brussels carpet or an admitted New Jersey product. To the credit of whom it may concern, it must be stated that the dipping, washing, and artificial aging of these commercial pieces is mostly done by cunning adepts in Persia before their works of art are exported. Only an expert’s advice should be relied on in buying a Kirman, to-day, and even that should have a good endorser. The distinction between Kirmans and Kirmanshahs was founded in fact and was important. But the latter term as now used in the trade is only poetical. It is the same new Kirman euphemized. No other rugs except silk rugs, which come under the same ban, have proved such a profitable swindle to unscrupulous and ignorant vendors, and have given a bad name to the dealers who try to be honest in their calling.
The Sehnas are highly prized by the Orientals and Occidentals. Old examples are uncommon and are very choice. “Their fabric gives to the touch the sense of frosted velvet. They reveal the Meissoniers of Oriental art,” says a writer on the subject. Some of these come in very small sizes, like mats, two feet by three. They have a diamond design, the centre being a graceful floriated medallion on a background of cream, yellow, red, or green, with floriation at the corners, making the diamond. They are the most exquisite of Persian gems, and are further considered in another chapter.
The Sehnas have the nap cut very close, wellnigh to the warp, and are therefore often too thin for utility. They do not lie well on the floor, and by reason of their short nap look cold and lack richness and lustre. If you can find a choice one, however, and if, happily, as sometimes occurs, it may have a little depth of nap, you will own a pearl of great price.
The Khorassans are very soft and thick. They generally show the palm-leaf or loop design in their borders, and are altogether desirable. Their colouring almost always inclines to magenta, but time subdues this to a delicate rose. Time has also subdued most of the specimens offered, to the sad detriment of their edges and ends. The ends are very seldom perfect, and age seems to bite into the borders of the Khorassans with a strange and voracious appetite. It is well to consider these defects in your choosing.
The Serabends and their class have one border peculiar to themselves and a centre of double, triple, or multiple diamonds in outline, in which are scattered irregular rows of small figures, generally palm leaves, so called. This peculiar figure has three or four different names, the palm leaf, the pear, the loop, etc. It was originally worked into the fabric of the finest Cashmere shawls, and represents the loop which the river Indus makes on the vast plain in upper Cashmere, as seen from the mosque there, to which thousands made their pilgrimage. It was thus intended as a most sacred symbol and reminder. The Serabends are firm in texture, lie well, and are most satisfactory. Sometimes, however, the green in them shows the faults of an aniline dye. Their designs are peculiar to themselves, but never become monotonous. The palm-leaf pattern is of course common to many kinds of rugs. But the varieties in the form and size of it are infinite.
Plate V.
CHICHI
About forty years old
From the Collection of the Author
Size: 3.6 x 5.10
The Shiraz rugs are warm in colour, lustrous, but rather loosely woven. Many of them show the “shawl pattern,” small horizontal or diagonal stripes. These striped rugs, however, are always wavering and irregular in design and soon tire the eye. They are well passed by. Reproductions of the old Shiraz designs with the centre field filled with innumerable odd, small figures used to be common a few years ago. They were very rich and handsome. Almost all of them, however, have the great defect of being crooked. They will puff up here or there, and, pat, pull, or pet them as you may, it is hopeless to try to straighten them. They are frequently called Mecca rugs, on the generally accepted statement that these are the rugs usually chosen to make the pilgrimage to that shrine.
The Youraghans and Joshghans (Tjoshghans) possess the general excellences of the best Persians, but they are not commonly seen. The Joshghans will show in their field a light lattice-work design with conventionalized roses, or graceful diaperings and patternings, of the four-petalled or six-petalled rose. The Persian rose is single, of course, and appears in many simple forms. The Joshghans might be the prototypes of some of the old Kubas or Kabistans, except that floriation was replaced by tiling and mosaic work in the Daghestan region.
The Feraghans are not as finely woven as the Serabends, and on that account, primarily, yield to them in excellence. But old Feraghans often come in smaller sizes than the Serabends and in more desirable proportions. On the other hand, while Feraghans are generally of a firmer quality, there are also antique Serabends heavy and silky. Between the two it would be little more than to choose the better specimen. While the Feraghans have no accepted border to distinguish them, they have a most marked characteristic in the decoration of the field. It is a figure like a crescent, toothed inside; it might be a segment of a melon. But more than likely it was originally a curled-up rose leaf; for the rose, variously conventionalized, is most common to this class. There is generally an indication of a trellis, on which the roses are formally spread. But the curled leaf is almost always in evidence, however varied or angular it may be drawn.
The Persian Mousuls are perhaps the best rugs now to be had for moderate prices. The region where they are made, being partly Turkish and partly Persian, gives them some of the characteristics of each nation. But the choice ones are always offered as Persian; and the designs of most of them are distinctively of that country, with frequent use of Serabend borders, Feraghan figures, etc. Their centre field sometimes contains bold medallions, but generally it is filled with palm-leaf or similar small designs, which in themselves are quite monotonous, except as they are diversified and made beautiful by graduated changes of colour in both the figures and background. Sometimes these streaks of varying colour make too strong a contrast, but generally they shade into each other most harmoniously, and, the nap being heavy and the wool fine, these rugs are eminently lustrous and silky. They have no rivals in this regard except among the Beluchistans and treasured Kazaks. As you walk around them they glow in lights and shades like a Cabochon emerald. One of their distinguishing designs is a very conventionalized cluster of four roses, the whole figure being about the bigness of a small hand. There is a rose at top and bottom and one on either side, with conventionalized leaves to give grace. The design is recognizable at a glance, and is wellnigh as old as Persia. For the rose is conceded to be Oriental in origin, and if it is not primarily a Persian flower, it belongs surely to her by virtue of first adoption.[1]
The designation of certain rugs as Kurdish or Kurdistan has been used indiscriminately, yet they are by no means the same, and between the two classes is a well-marked distinction which should be recognized. Kurdistan is a large province in northern Persia, with a protectorate government both Turkish and Persian, and with the Turkish inhabitants in the ratio of about two to one, according to the geographers. The Kurds constitute only a small but most important part of the population. They are generally spoken of as “a nomadic tribe,” or more frequently as “that band of robbers, the Kurds.” Regardless, however, of their morals or habits, by them are made characteristic, coarse, strong, and often superb rugs which are properly called “Kurdish.” On the other hand, the Persians in Kurdistan make a finer class of rugs and carpets, which are known as Kurdistans. These latter have been praised by an eminent authority as “the best rugs now made in Persia and perhaps in the East.” They are certainly bold and splendid in design, beautiful in colouring, and of great strength and durability.
The Gulistans are thick, heavy, and handsome, with striking designs, frequently like the flukes of an anchor, on a light ground. They are not common now even in modern weaving.
There are many other Persian rugs which might be further specialized and considered. But such old commercial names as Teheran, Ispahan, etc., can in fact only be differentiated by an expert; and when experts disagree, as will frequently occur, and when they are at a loss to decide whether an important specimen is an Ispahan or a Joshghan, classification becomes obscure to the layman and even to the collector; and he will wisely avoid the complexities of such discussion. So, also, Sarak rugs are rarely seen now save in modern reproductions, and must be passed by with the same criticisms as apply to the new-made Tabriz.
The Daghestan rugs of Caucasia are only second in importance to those from Persian looms. An opinion is reserved, nevertheless, regarding antique Turkish weaves, which are hereinafter considered.
If history does not satisfactorily prove that the Caucasus was originally the northern part of Persia (as may have been, under Cyrus), Persian dominance and influence may be demonstrated, in textile art, by rug borders, patterns, and designs. The Shirvans, Kabistans, Chichis, Darbends, Karabaghs, all exhibit pronounced Persian characteristics, and show the educational power of the mother country of this handicraft. Fineness of weave, delicacy of hue, and chaste simplicity of design are distinguishing features of this group. But, as contrasted with the Persian patterns, the Persians use for their detail roses, flowers, palm leaves, etc., while the Caucasians gain similar effects from geometrical figures, angles, stars, squares, and hexagons, with small tilings, mosaics, and trellisings. The true and the beautiful was never better demonstrated by Euclid through angle, square, or hypothenuse. An old Chichi rug, like a drawing of Tenniel’s, will prove what grace may come without a curve and by angles only.
It is unfortunate that the best rugs of the Caucasus come from the large province of Daghestan, and that that general term is applied to them indiscriminately. Twenty or more years ago most of the Oriental rugs which were sold here to an uneducated and unappreciative public came by way of Tiflis, and for lack of knowledge were all branded with the common name of Daghestan. Thousands of beautiful Kabistans, Shirvans, Bakus, etc., were then sold for a song under the one arbitrary title. They would be priceless to-day, and yet the former commercial, vulgar use of the name leaves it in undeserved disrepute. As used in this chapter, it is intended to mark a distinction between certain of the Caucasian types, which it properly represents, and the Russian types from the same region, which are illustrated in the Kazaks and Yourucks.
Plate VI.
KABISTAN
Thirty or forty years old
From the Collection of the Author
Size: 4.5 x 5.6
What may have become of all the fine Kabistans, which were forced upon the market years ago, is a question. Are they all worn to rags and lost to the world? Or do they still turn up at chance household auctions? Many fine specimens may be so discovered, dirty, disguised, and disreputable, but easily reclaimable and made anew by washing. There is a theory, also, that many choice pieces came to San Francisco in the ’seventies and ’eighties, and are lost to sight and memory somewhere in California. A collector might well explore this home field.
Too great praise cannot be given to the old Shirvans, with their “palace” or “sunburst” pattern; to the Chichis, with their mosaic work, worthy of Saint Mark’s Cathedral; to the Karabaghs, with their flaming reds; or to the Kabistans, with their soft, light tones of colour, made softer still in contrast with ivory and creamy white. These are the despised Daghestans which were, and for which the collector may now vainly search abroad.
It is not always easy to distinguish between an old—or middle-aged, may we say?—Shirvan or Kabistan. Many of their designs are common property, and it is the cleverer weaver who executes them the better. This broad statement may be made by way of a test: the best of the Shirvans are rather loosely woven and thin. The Kabistans are of finer weave, are firmer and heavier, and lie truer on the floor.
Two classes of rugs from the Caucasus have been referred to as Russian, the Yourucks and Kazaks. There is no authority for the distinction except in the rugs themselves. They prove their case from their thickness and iron durability, from their sombre or strong red colouring, and from their daring crude and simple designs. In their utility they bespeak an article of warmth and weight, and in their art they represent a barbaric simplicity like a Navajo blanket. Kazak and Cossack are almost synonymous terms; and the Cossacks, the Kurds, and the Indians have something of kinship in weaving, at least. But the Kazak rugs are not all crude, by any manner of means. If strength is their first characteristic and strong primitive pigments in rare greens, reds, and blues; and if their patterns are simple and angular;—none the less, in antique specimens, much originality was shown in the drawing of their borders, and soft browns and yellows with ivory white appeared in their colouring.
Of the Shirvans, Chichis, etc., ordinarily offered, there is nothing to be said. They are cheaply and roughly woven, and made only to sell. They are disposed of by the thousands at auctions, and piles and piles of them fill the carpet and department stores. Be it said to their credit that they will outwear any machine-made floor covering; that they are good to hide a hole in an old carpet; that they help to furnish the bedrooms of a summer cottage; that they are most useful in the back hall; and, in fine, that they are better than no rugs at all. Yet, on the other hand, be it well understood that they are not, as frequently advertised, “exquisite examples of textile art,” and that fine Oriental rugs are not to be bought at “$6.98” apiece.
Babylon or Egypt may have woven the first carpets or floor coverings, and China of course worked early in the same field. But Persia acquired the art quite independent of China, and well in the beginning of the long ago. Indeed, the Chinese industry practically ceased to exist many centuries back, and was transferred to northern Persia, where the history of this handicraft has its true beginning. From Persia all other countries have drawn their knowledge and inspiration, and however much they may have endeavoured to create and to evolve new figures and new designs, even the oldest examples of their art must concede something to Persian influence.
The Turks, above all others, have shown themselves the most apt scholars, and indeed in many lines have improved upon their teachers. The choicest specimens of Turkish weave are as rubies to the other precious stones, rarer, more brilliant, and more costly than diamonds. Though not so closely woven as some of the Persians, they are wonderfully beautiful in artistic picturing and in their own Oriental splendour of colour and design. Such in particular are the antique Gheordez, as splendid in rich floods of light as the stained-glass windows of a cathedral. They are the finest woven and have the shortest nap of their class.
Here is the description of one taken from a catalogue of twenty-five years ago: “Antique Gheordez Prayer Rug. Mosque design, with columns and pendant floral lamp relieved on solid ground of rare Egyptian red, surmounted by arabesques in white upon dark turquoise, framed in lovely contrasting borders.”
Plate VII.
ANTIQUE GHEORDEZ
Prayer Rug
From the Collection of Mr. George H. Ellwanger
Size: 4.6 x 5.11
Another is pictured as: “A flake of solid sapphire, crested by charming floral designs in ruby on ground of white opal. The mosaics and blossom borders are toned to perfect harmony.”
These word pictures are in no way exaggerated, and only help to portray the glories of the old Gheordez, with their graceful hanging lamps, as wonderful as Aladdin’s, in a vista between pillars of chalcedony or onyx. They came in the form of prayer rugs generally, and a pronounced feature of those more commonly seen is a multiplicity of small dotted borders. The older and finer examples show borderings of far more graceful and artistic drawing.
The antique Koulahs and Koniahs, though not so finely woven, have mostly the same superb centres or panels of solid colour as the Gheordez, and vie with the latter in the splendour of their hues, if not in the delicacy and intricacy of their designs outside the central field. The Koulahs may generally be recognized by a narrow border, which is peculiar to themselves and is almost invariably found on them. This consists of a broken line of little tendrils or spirals quite Chinese in character, and looking much like a row of conventionalized chips and shavings. It is so odd and distinctive that once seen it can never be mistaken. The Koniahs also have little figures which are quite their own, and which usually appear somewhere in the central design. They are small flowers each on a single stem, and the flower has commonly three triangular petals, like an oxalis or shamrock leaf. It is quite unlike the blossoms which besprinkle other rugs. With this, often come crude figures of lamps like miniature tea-pots. The Ladiks display all the colours of an October wood, and complete the group of Turkish old masters. Not a few of them have also a unique border in the form of a small lily blossom. Experts speak of it familiarly as the “Rhodian border,” but its origin is altogether obscure.
Plate VIII.
ANTIQUE KOULAH
Prayer Rug
From the Collection of Mr. George H. Ellwanger
Size: 3.11 x 5.6
These words in testimony to the beauties of Turkish rugs may be offered simply by way of guide-posts to lead to some museum. A few battered and torn war-flags of Gheordez or Ladiks are occasionally offered on the market, but the best of them lack all character and colour, and show only the bold design and holes and strings and naked warp.
Just which particular Turkish rugs are properly classed as Anatolians it is hard to say, Anatolia being so large a province. The term as commercially used is only as comprehensive and expressive as “Iran” applied to the Persians. It is generally misapplied to an uncertain class of old, worn, and tarnished remnants or new coarse prayer rugs, ruinous of harmony with their magenta discords. Yet many of the “mats” are rightly called Anatolians, and, premising a later chapter, one of the greatest delights of collecting was to look over a pile of them, with the never-failing hope of finding some bright particular gem. And these mats are truly the little gems of Turkish weaving, and in accordance with the Oriental fondness for jewels and precious stones the suggestion that they represent inlaid jewelled work has been well imagined. But here again we cry, “Eheu fugaces!” They have gone. It is idle to look over the pile. There are no good ones for sale. One explanation of their scarcity is in the fact that the Armenian dealers have a weakness for these small pieces themselves, and are wont to indulge their fondness for colour and sheen by keeping the choice ones for their own use. So the mats of commerce are either new, coarse, and crude and offensive with arsenical greens and aniline crimsons and magentas; or they are but soiled patches and bits of old rugs sewn together. Caveat emptor! and let the buyer look at their backs before purchasing.
The old Melez rugs, with characteristics peculiar to themselves, are of almost like importance to the Koniahs and Koulahs. Frequently they have a suggestion of the Chinese in their figures and decorations. You will find symbolized dragons pictured on them, also the cypress tree; while in colour they form a class by themselves, and exhibit shades of lavender, heliotrope, and violet such as no other kinds may boast. Whatever this dye may be, and whatever tone of mauve or lilac it may take, you will find it only in the Melez, a few Bergamas, or in some old Irans, whose race is practically extinct. Worthy modern Melez are still to be had, and will improve as they wear; if only they are firm in texture and do not flaunt the battle-flag colours of Solferino and Magenta.
Plate IX.
MELEZ
Forty or fifty years old
From the Collection of the Author
Size: 3.10 x 5.3
The Bergamas come mostly in blues and reds, most prominently set out by soft ivory white. One of their recognized patterns is quite individual, and readily marks their class. It is a square of small squares marked off like a big checker-board. Other small pieces are almost square, with the field in mosaic-work or flower blossoms. In the fine old specimens, which used to be, the Bergamas rioted in superb medallions or in a floriated central figure like a grand bouquet. As a class, their merit is softness and richness. Their defect is that of the Shiraz, a proneness to curl and puff themselves with pride. The fault is caused by the fact that their usually artistic selvedge is too tightly drawn. Skilful cutting of the selvedge and new fringing will correct the error.
Some old and some excellent new Bergamas have lately been in evidence in the stocks of the Oriental dealers. Howsoever or wheresoever they come, the collector may well take courage from their appearance and apply himself to the chase with renewed zest.
The geography of the carpets and rugs thus far considered has included a very considerable area.
Any traveller or collector who may have journeyed in fact to the regions where they are made may well have stories to tell, for his wanderings will have led him into strange lands and wild places.
But the remaining classes of rugs, which we are wont to see lying gracefully in front of our hearths, as tame and peaceful as kittens, have come from still farther and wilder regions of the world; and the wonder is that we see them at all or are permitted the privilege of treading on them. The Turkestan class, so far as our subject is concerned, carries us east from Persia, through Afghanistan and Beluchistan even into China. They are Oriental in very truth, and at first blush, it would seem, should be more crude and barbaric in their art. But as compared with the bold, rough, and rude weaves and patterns of the Russian Caucasians, they are, as a class, most refined and delicate in design and fine in texture.
It has been said that “whoever has seen one Bokhara rug has seen them all.” Their set designs and staple colouring have been so long familiar that we have lost respect for them. There are the well-known geometric figures for the centre, smaller similar figures for the borders, and a mosaic of diamonds or delicate traceries of branches for the ends. Choice examples, like the stars, differ from one another in glory only. The variations evolved from the one conventional design are almost infinite; and the many shades and tones of red which are used bring to mind the paintings of Vibert and his wonderful palette of scarlets, carmines, crimsons, maroons, and vermilions.
Plate X.
ANTIQUE BELUCHISTAN
From the Collection of the Author
Size: 4.10 x 8.3
Some of the rare old Bokharas come in lovely browns and are almost priceless in value. Sad to say, it remained for an American vandal to discover a process of “dipping” or “washing” an ordinary rug so as to imitate these rare originals, and many dealers unblushingly sell these frauds. To wear imitation jewelry is far less reprehensible. Happily the trickery is generally distinguishable because the “dip” or stain, whatever it may be, is apt to run into the fringe or otherwise betray itself. The wise buyer will reject with scorn any rug, under whatsoever name offered, which shows no other colouring than various shades of chocolate brown. No such uniform brown dyeing ever characterized any class of rugs. Even the brown Bokharas which are in museums show some other tints with their brown tones.
Good Bokharas, like good Kirmans, are undeniably beautiful and of great value, but the mere fact that both are considered staples in the rug trade tends to detract from their artistic value; and that they are so generally doctored, disguised, and perverted puts them in bad repute.
The Yamoud-Bokharas come in larger sizes than the others of their type; are not so fine in texture, but thicker and firmer. Their designs are larger and bolder, and they show a most becoming bloom. They also display green and even yellow in their colouring, which is not usual in Bokharas. Their selvedge is beautifully characteristic. In Bokharas proper the adornment of the selvedge usually is on the warp; as in the Bergamas and Beluchistans. In Yamouds the selvedge is almost always carried out in wool with like skill as that given to the rest of the piece.
The Afghans are a coarser edition of Bokharas, and may be mostly considered for utility. They come in large sizes, and almost square; have bold tile patternings, and in the finer examples are plush-like and silky. These are still to be had, but many modern ones are dyed with mineral dyes, and their bloom is meretricious. The chemist has waved his magic wand over them, not wisely but too well.
The Beluchistans are somewhat akin to the Bokharas, and like the latter rejoice in reds and blues in the darker tones, while they display greater variety in their designs. These are ordinarily crude and simple, but in the old exemplars they were of considerable variety, and their wealth of changing colours in sombre shades was rich beyond the dream of avarice. “Lees of wine,” “dregs of wine,” “plum,” “claret,” “maroon,”—these are terms which have served to describe their prevailing colours. The adjectives are still applicable and may give some idea of the colourful effects which are obtained from their stains of brown and red and purple. For decorative effect, their deeper tones make most harmonious contrast with the subdued and softened Persians and old Daghestans. In many specimens, new and old, white, both blue white and ivory, is used in startling contrast. It makes or mars the picture, according to the artistic skill of the weaver. The wool used in the good Beluchistans is particularly soft and silky, and lends to them their unique velvety sheen. No other varieties show it so perfectly, although antique Kazaks have their particular plush, and the Mousuls with their depth of pile have a shimmer and shifting light which is their especial artistic feature. The distinction may not easily be formulated; but, nevertheless, the sheen of the Beluchistan is one beauty, while the play of light and shade on a Mousul is another pleasure to the eye.
In the Bergama rugs the weaver does not disdain to spend some toil and time upon the selvedge; and this, even in small specimens, is commonly four to six inches long, carefully woven in white and colour and with occasional ornamentation. In this selvedge a small, elongated triangle is frequently embossed in wool, with the commendable purpose of avoiding the “evil eye.”
But in the Beluchistans the maker “enlarges his phylacteries, and increases the borders of his garments.” He goes even to greater pains and trouble in the elaboration and finishing of his selvedge. It is often prolonged to eight or ten inches in moderate-sized rugs, and is woven into most interesting patterns and stripes of colour. It is literally carried to extremes. It may seem an act of vandalism, but the wise and stoical collector will do well to eliminate all but two or three inches of it and have a skilful weaver overcast and fringe the ends. Selvedge, however adorned, is utilitarian only, and, like useless fringe, it must not be allowed to detract from the proportions and beauty of the piece itself.
For the comfort of the collector be it known that within the last year or two, many fine Beluchistan mats and small rugs have been secured somehow by the wholesalers and are in evidence in the retailers’ stock. Beluchistan, evidently, is one of the remote regions last to be drawn upon, scoured, ravaged, and exhausted. The opportunity should be improved by the provident buyer.
The Soumac or Cashmere rug calls for no further description than a Cashmere shawl. With the exception of choice antique specimens which time has chastened and mellowed into pictures in apricot, fawn, robin’s-egg, and cream colours, the Cashmeres are rather matters of fact than of art.
What are known as Killims, or Kiz-Killims, the better class, are hard fabrics akin to the Soumacs except that they have no nap on either side, and are double faced. They are mostly Caucasian and Kurdish, with the bold designs of those classes, or they come in the beautiful, delicate patterns of the Sehnas. In their crudest and strongest Kazak figures they appear in the most brilliant pigments, with soft reds, rose, lake, and vermilion for contrasting colours, splashed together as on a painter’s palette. Of course they lack the sheen of a rug, but their colour effects are marvellous. While generally used for portières and coverings, they are perfect rugs for a summer cottage, being most durable, and are worthy of attention. Moreover, fine antique examples are still to be had. Some collector might be the first to make a specialty of them and garner them before they pass; the end of the Oriental weaver’s pageant. The usual warning, however, must be given, that they are often cursed with the barbarous magentas hereinbefore mentioned, a colour which would ruin a rainbow.
The products of Samarkand are quite out of the ordinary, and thoroughly Chinese in character. Except by association and classification they have no resemblance to the Turkestan or any other division. They form a class by themselves, the legitimate successors of the old Chinese rugs, long gone by. They are very bold in design, and in colour tend to yellow, orange, and various soft reds. An inferior make of Samarkands often appears under the title of Malgaras. They have neither quality nor colour to commend them.
But there are old Chinese rugs also. Most of them are in the conventional blue and white, with simple octagonal medallions, with no border to speak of, and with little strength of character. They are coarsely woven and have been so commonly imitated by machine reproductions in English carpetry that even blue and white originals have small merit to boast of. There were, and doubtless still are, Chinese rugs of far more importance. Many are noted in the catalogue of a sale in New York City no longer ago than 1893. From one item remembered, they showed various beautiful colourings, far beyond the simple white and blue, and in design displayed much of the artistic strength, grace, and beauty of the old Chinese porcelains. It is a mystery where these rugs lie hidden. No one boasts of owning them or claims credit to even a modest $10,000 antique specimen.
However a man may justify himself for collecting rugs, regardless of his success, of his needs, or of his income, there would seem to be no danger of any one making a specialty of buying carpets. Except to millionaires or for clubs and palaces, space would absolutely prohibit, if the housewife did not. The nearest that the enthusiast might approach to such an ambition would be in the accumulation of hall strips; which has its own temptations, quite within the possible.
And yet the term “carpet” is an elastic phrase, and any piece which exceeds six or seven feet in width and of greater length, is entitled by courtesy to be named a carpet. It may be said that a rug, like a baby, ceases to be a rug at an uncertain size, and then becomes a carpet. But carpets in the larger dimensions, ten by twelve feet or more, as ordinarily understood, are only herein considered. They are really articles of utility first and always, and must answer to certain measured requirements. Such is the accepted theory and practice. The buyer is wont to think that the merit or beauty of a carpet is of secondary consideration if only it fit the room. Here is a heresy. It is far better that the room should be made to fit or adapt itself to the perfect carpet.
If you would buy one, the best that you can do is to choose wisely. They are all of modern make, with very few exceptions. If you have one that is antique, you yourself have made it so, or you have inherited a ragged and neglected example of bygone years. The modern carpets, nevertheless, those still made to-day, are many of them superb pieces, far outclassing any small rugs of the same weaving.
Plate XI.
ANTIQUE ANATOLIAN PILLOWS
From the Collection of the Author
Sizes: 1.10 x 2.10, and 2.1 x 2.11
The Kirmanshahs would come first, of course; closely woven, beautiful and soft in colour, delicate and artistic in their designs, they are the most perfect floor coverings for the salon, reception or music room. If they were only real! But very, very few of them are. They have all been treated with chemicals, and their beauty of complexion is just as artificial as any rouged and bepowdered courtesan’s. Unless you have one out of ten thousand, it has not come from a palace, but from a scientific laboratory.
Many of the Tabriz carpets lie under the same suspicion, and those of soft tones, claiming to be antiques, may be wisely questioned. But new ones come in clean, rich colourings, in fine designs, and are textile masterpieces.
The Kurdistan carpets of to-day are by far the best of all. They are more loosely woven, but they are so much the heavier, and that is to be desired in a carpet. And they are honest. Their colours are beautiful, varied, strong, and true. It is claimed for the Kurdistans that some of their dyes are still well-guarded secrets; and it is true history of some years ago that many a bloody feud and murder grew out of cherished Kurdistan secrets of dyeing. Their designs are bold and striking, with grand centre medallion and corners, and a field artistically adorned. Money cannot buy anything better than a fine new Kurdistan; and thirty or forty years of wear should leave it better still.
Next to be chosen would be the Gorovans. They also show brave figuring with a strong centre medallion, characteristic zigzag corners, and angular ornamentations which are most gracefully carried out. Their colouring is usually in fine blues and reds.
Modern Feraghans come in large carpet sizes, and some antique ones are still to be had. But the Kurdistans and Gorovans far surpass them in two important particulars. The Feraghans appear only in their own peculiar, small-figured designs, which are without strength or character on a large floor space. Besides that, being more closely cut than the others, if they do not soon wear out, they soon wear down, and begin to show the suspicion of their warp and their loss of tone and colour. They are beautiful carpets, nevertheless, and will practically last a lifetime. But the heavier they are, the better.
There are few other modern Persian carpets in large sizes which come in appreciable numbers for classification. There is a rather indefinite order of Gulistans, under which title many good nondescripts are sold.
There are also current Sultanabads, in very large sizes, well woven, on old models, to meet present uses.
Most other carpets are of Turkish weaving, whatever their names, and come under the general title of Smyrnas. Smyrna is the centre of distribution for a great variety of cheap and coarsely woven carpets; but poor in quality as these may be, they should not be confused with the American machine product also known as a “Smyrna.” In the same class come the Oushaks, Hamadans, etc. There is nothing more to be said for them than to testify that they will wear better than a Brussels carpet, and give some distinction to a modest dining-room.
It is a far cry from carpets to saddle-bags, and yet these latter are of greater importance and interest to the collector. More valuable pieces of Oriental weaving are to be found among the diminutives than in the grand opera of textiles.
Beginning at the bottom, we find plenty of the little pairs of bags, twelve or eighteen inches square. They are donkey bags, carried back of the saddle, and generally appear in Shirvan make or, most commonly, in Shiraz weaving. The Shiraz often have considerable beauty and sheen and dark rich colouring. But these very small pieces have little real utility or available artistic beauty. They never lie well, and only litter up the floor. They belittle a well-arranged room as would a frail and useless gilt chair. They are recommended for pillows, but we Occidental infidels associate rugs too closely with the foot to find them easy to the head. They are also advised for use as hassocks. But the hassock long ago disappeared, with or under the “what-not,” or behind “the horse-hair sofa.”
Other bags, used on horse and camel, come in more important sizes, as large as two feet by six feet or more. Exquisite specimens of Bokharas are found among these; artistic, antique pieces, woven as fine as needlework. A number of these seem to have come suddenly on the market in some mysterious way; and they are of every size within their small limits; because, as an Oriental has suggested, there are pony camels also. Another mystery about those camel bags would seem to be that some are beautifully straight and therefore most to be desired, while others are so curved as to be impossible of use unless around the foot of a pillar. Here is a case differing from that of the ordinary crooked rug, because these bags were originally made straight and true. Overloading and overpacking have only sagged down the middle. I dare not say that the more the curve, the greater the age and the more the value; but it may be that curved Bokhara saddle-bags, passed by, by the Levite, are prizes to be picked up by the good Samaritan, and may be easily restored to normal rectitude.
But the term “saddle-bag,” whether for this animal or that, is confusing and altogether too generally used. It must be borne in mind that a bag was and is an article of universal utility to the Oriental. For all purposes of travel, journeying, or visiting, it corresponds to our valise or portmanteau of to-day; or, in aptest comparison, to our “carpet-bag” of fifty years ago. And, according to the taste and means of their owners, these Persian, Armenian, or Turkish carpet-bags varied in size and beauty. A few rare old Caucasian small rugs can only be accounted for as valued personal rug-bags of their period.
Among these smaller pieces are alone to be found the most valuable of all the collector’s spoil, the small Sehnas. Very rarely they come in pairs, about two feet by three feet, and therefore could not have been used as bags for any purpose. They are pillows; and pillows of course play their important part in the ménage of the East. Besides the exquisite Sehnas, the finest of the Anatolian mats, as they are generally called, were used for pillows and not saddle-bags. The warp generally proves their purpose. When the warp runs vertically to the larger side, and ends in a fringe, that specimen was of course some sort of a saddle-bag. When the selvedge is at the shorter end you have the pillow.
Among the other beautiful miniature specimens of textile art, which are still occasionally offered, are saddle-cloths. They appear mostly in beautiful Sehnas, and occasionally in fine old Feraghans and other Persian weaves. They are marred, however, for beautiful floor coverings by the necessary angular cut in them, through which the straps of the saddle passed. This is often skilfully filled in, in the case of choice specimens. But the blot remains. Their irregular shape also condemns them for the most part with the many admirable but irreclaimable crooked rugs.
These saddle-bags are frequently used for table coverings or for mural adornment. But in our modern house decoration rarely does a rug look well upon the wall. The Persians hang them instead of pictures, which is well. But they do not mix them with pictures on the wall, which is better, and shows good taste on the part of the Persians. A rug appears best upon the floor.
The collector of small pieces to-day will do well to buy every bag or pillow of Bokhara or Beluchistan which may please his fancy. They are to be had now at modest prices, but unless all signs fail, they will soon become as rare as any of the other miniatures. You will look in vain for them with the vanished Anatolians and diamond Sehnas.
A justification of the method of selling rugs by auction has been offered in many forms and phrases. It is perhaps best expressed somewhat thus: Every number has a certain intrinsic value, and that is a basis price at which it should sell. But beyond that it may have an extra value, which, like beauty in general, is in the eye of the beholder. The beholder, therefore, who sees a rug to covet it should name his own price for it. It may be one of the specimens he lacks in his collection; it may fit this corner or that. Anyway, it is worth more to him than to the lower bidder. Incidentally, the seller and the auctioneer gain the fair profits of competition.
Other arguments in favour of the auction have been advanced by the head of a great department store. His opinion is that the auction gives every one a chance to get the rug desired at a fair price. Tastes differ and prices differ, but the average of an auction is fair to both buyer and seller.
Regardless of theories, rug auctions, by whomsoever fathered or sponsored, thrive and flourish.
If the auction be the collection of such and such an Oriental, whatever his name, there will be a great deal of cheap stuff in his stock, and there will also be many choice pieces which he holds as the apples of his eye.
He buys from the wholesaler so many bales at so much per bale of say twenty pieces. In the bales of ordinary qualities the several items will average about the same. But in the more expensive bales there is a good general average, with a few prizes added. They are like the two or three green firecrackers in the packs of our childhood. These special pieces in the high-priced bales give the seller his legitimate opportunity and profit. If these odd firecrackers please your fancy more than mine, and I am contented to choose the conventional red ones, it is for you to fix the value of the greens.
At an auction the apparent authority and ruler is the auctioneer, while the owner weeps cheerfully on one side and shrugs his shoulders in half-pathetic resignation at the sacrifice. In reality the auctioneer knows pretty well what he is about, and, if not, is quickly posted by the owner. It is no harm to say that if we cannot believe all that we read in the Bible, no more is it safe to take literally all that the auctioneer asserts. A recent skit in “Life” is pertinent (quoted from memory):—