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.