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diff --git a/75202-0.txt b/75202-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2775a73 --- /dev/null +++ b/75202-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1374 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75202 *** + + + + + + BALBUS + + + + + TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW + + _For the Contents of the Series see the end + of the Book_ + + + + + BALBUS + OR + THE FUTURE OF ARCHITECTURE + + BY + CHRISTIAN BARMAN + + + London: + KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO., Ltd. + New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. + + + + + _The same Author has also written_: + + + _THE DANGER TO SAINT PAUL’S_ + _THE BRIDGE: A CHAPTER IN THE HISTORY OF BUILDING_ + _SIR JOHN VANBRUGH_ + _THE ‘RULES’ OF JAMES GIBBS_ + + + _Printed in Great Britain by_ + MACKAYS LTD., CHATHAM + + + + + BALBUS + + +It is often maintained that there is a similarity between architecture +and dress in that both are applied as a covering, the one to the +individual human body, the other to the body politic. But there is one +thing that those who point to this similarity are not always careful +to bear in mind, namely that it is precisely in their relation to this +human content that the arts of architecture and dress differ most +widely. The bodies of adult men and women are distinguished from one +another only by a few small variations of colour and proportion. Of +so little consequence are these departures from the universal norm +that fashion experts are freely permitted to disregard their effect, +and usually content themselves with saying that “trousers are worn +narrower” and that “gowns are of pastel shades of mousseline and +chiffon.” Having, in such observations as these, momentarily exhausted +the subject of sartorial growth, they can do nothing but await the next +measurement, the next material, that its guiding spirits may decree. +What would they say, however, if they were asked to discuss the toilet +of a greyhound, a turkey-cock or a hippopotamus, and compare it with +the vesture appropriate to human beings? Would not the historian of +clothes become deeply embarrassed at such an enlargement of his field +of vision, at the sudden appearance of such a multiplicity of forms? +Yet the scope and variety of his subject would still be as nothing +beside the scope of architectural history, and the variety of the +architectural forms that it is the task of this history to register, +and anatomize, and trace back severally to their origin. For while the +origin of sartorial form is to be discerned in the fixed and unchanging +outline of the human body, the origin of architectural form must be +looked for in the infinite diversity of the social organism and in the +sweeping and rapid changes into which this organism is for ever being +thrown. Of all architectural movements there is none, therefore, so +irresistible in its progress or so expansive in its effect as that +which owes its existence to a social movement. In the construction of +the first circular cathedral window on the one hand, and Sir William +Chambers’ experiments in Oriental design on the other, we have two +typical events in the history of architectural form whose influence +upon the course of this history has been far less profound than that, +let us say, of the publication of Rousseau’s _Emile_ or the repeal of +the laws forbidding the exportation of machinery. Had not the very +fact of Balbus building become an index to the social condition of the +commonwealth? Thus any change in the state of society may accelerate +building or retard it, and may likewise alter the whole subject or +content of a particular province of building; while events of a purely +architectural origin and significance most often leave a record that is +only skin-deep. + +But whether the movement be deep or shallow, local or enlarged, the +historian has to consider it with just the same degree of care. While +we expect him to give no part of his subject more than its due, on +the other hand we insist that the ancillary and the fleeting shall be +recorded side by side with the chief and lasting things. We do not, +however, usually ask this of the prophet, and even were we to do so he +would not be able to satisfy us without incurring intolerable risks. +For the progress of an art is like the dual movement of the sea, which +is actuated by wind and tide in mysterious combination; and between +these two forces there is this great difference, that the one will, +after some little study, make itself known in advance, but none but +an ill-guided or a mendacious prophet would attempt to foretell the +other. Tide and current are important enough when we have to construct +a picture of past and present movement, but in our anticipation of +the future they are our only guides. In architecture as in dress the +position of the prophet is the same: he cannot safely predict any new +forms save those that are moulded by the human entity these forms +invest. The shrewdest observer of fashion would be at a loss to give +the precise length for the masculine waistcoat of five years hence. +Tell him, however, that about that time there will be a large demand +for reefer suits from the New Forest ponies, and he will describe the +design of these suits with considerable accuracy. And in architecture +no less we must content ourselves with seizing upon social movements +already at work, and may form our estimate of future growth only by +projecting these movements into the architectural plane, and there +working out their architectural equivalent. + +There are some, unfortunately, among prophets and historians alike +who remain wholly or partly blind to this important truth, and who +claim that an occasional gust of wind is all that ever disturbs the +architectural waters upon which they keep observation. According to +them, there has been no movement of greater consequence than are +the ripples on a stagnant pool, nor do they encourage us to expect +any such movement in the future. Architecture and dress are treated +exactly alike by these imperfect observers, and the favourite topics of +sartorial conversation invariably reappear when architecture becomes +the subject of their talk. These topics are dimension and material, +and it may be worth while to consider for a moment in what manner they +are sometimes able to intrude into what would appear to be a serious +discussion of architectural form. + +Everybody has heard it said at one time or another that the skyscraper +is the building of to-morrow, and will soon lord it over the streets of +every great city. Such a prophecy is about as likely to be fulfilled as +a prophecy concerning the length of a garment. The size of a building +is a matter by no means devoid of interest, but there is very little +to help us in making a forecast of that size, and very little point in +attempting it. Yet whole buildings have been erected on the strength +of such a forecast. It is not surprising that such buildings have +afterwards involved their owners in heavy pecuniary losses, losses +far heavier, indeed, than would ever be sustained by a racehorse +backer working on a similar method. Nor is there even the semblance +of a reason why size should be dignified with the name of style, and +a change of size be spoken of as though it were tantamount to the +creation of a new formal entity. A tall building might be continued +upwards until it reached the stars, and still we should be unable to +describe it as a new architectural expression, an innovation in the +domain of artistic form. The Edgware Road might, for that matter, have +its architectural configuration carried on as far as Newcastle in the +shape in which it runs into Oxford Street, but we should not thereby +be entitled to hold it up as the latest thing in street design. The +topless towers of Ilium were something new in the size of towers only, +and not in tower design properly speaking, just as the endless street +of Edgware would be a new thing in the size of streets only, and not in +street design. The same confusion lurks in the statement that certain +industrial structures put up to store large quantities of water, coal, +grain and similar commodities exhibit the modern spirit more strikingly +than any other kind of building. What, one may reasonably ask, is the +difference between a coal-scuttle and a coal store, between a bucket of +water and a tank of water, between a bottle of beer and a vat of beer? +No doubt it is a novel experience to come upon a coal-scuttle fifty +feet high, its bottom shaped like a cloud-burst, or a bin of barley +large enough to hold two thousand tons. But is not the difference the +same as the difference between the short street and the long street, +between the four-storey building and the forty-storey building? We once +more observe a difference of size merely; it is the shilling against +the pound, the seven horse-power car against the seventy horse-power +one. We have chosen to make these things larger than we have hitherto +deemed it convenient to have them, and who shall say what size we may +make them to-morrow? + +Beside this deluded belief in the importance of dimension we may +often observe an equally fruitless concentration on material. The +architectural forms of the future, we are told, will be determined by +the new material of which it appears likely that this architecture +may be built. One could just as reasonably say that an orchestral +performance is determined by such sounds as a haphazard collection +of instruments is likely of its own accord to emit. Nothing could +be farther from the truth. In the present state of civilization the +notes played by the musicians upon their instruments are determined by +the composer’s score; the engine of a car is determined by the work +that will be required of it; the knowledge and skill of our doctors +are determined by the enactments of the General Medical Council; and +the materials used in building are determined by the kind of building +that the architect is asked to put up. In another age these things may +have been slightly otherwise, but here and now they usually conform +to this rule. In another age the materials with which you built, like +the horse you rode, the cheese you ate, the doctor who attended you in +sickness, were no doubt conditioned by your exact situation upon the +earth’s surface, but to-day they are not so conditioned. To-day the +industrial order of society has achieved all but the completest liberty +to manufacture such materials as it may think suitable, and to carry +these materials to whatever place may be chosen for their employment. +A modern building may draw its substance from the clayfields of +France, Spain and Belgium, the forests of Finland and Canada, the +tar-impregnated rocks of Switzerland, the granite-quarries of Ireland +and Sweden, and yet betray in not a single line that it is anything +but English in descent and urban in quality. At no time in history has +form been dependent upon material, though it may have been influenced +by it to a greater or lesser degree, and in our own age the autonomy +of form is more firmly established than it has been in any other age +of which we are aware. It is hardly necessary to add that to try and +foretell the future acceptance of a material would be even more futile +and more hazardous than the attempt to foretell the future acceptance +of a dimension. If we cannot determine the size that will be given to +the buildings of to-morrow, we know at any rate what is the range of +possible sizes from which a choice will have to be made. The range +of possible materials, however, may be fixed with no more accuracy +or finality than the range of possible propulsive strengths of our +future explosives, or the range of ether movements susceptible of being +perceived or recorded by man. The progress of modern invention shows no +sign of becoming retarded as yet, and only when its end draws within +sight is there a likelihood that we may be able to foretell its next +and ultimate stage, and lay down the limits of its achievement. + +But if we are unable to discover what will be the size of the +buildings of to-morrow, and of what materials these buildings will be +constructed, we may console ourselves with the thought that the whole +field of architecture proper remains open for us to explore at will. We +have, for example, but to regard with some care those social movements +which are likely to suscitate a similar movement in architecture, +and the course of this architectural movement will gradually become +disclosed to us. Two such social movements will here be selected and +their immediate architectural consequences followed out. The first of +these is the emancipation of modern woman, which has produced a new +type of building in which the strongest architectural impulse of the +past and the highest architectural excellence of the past are both +conspicuously absent. The other is the determined fight that is to-day +being put up in order to prevent the complete paralysis of street +traffic in the great towns of Europe, and, more particularly, of the +United States of America. The effect of this struggle is to substitute +for the old impulse and the old excellence a new impulse and a new +excellence, both of an inferior order, but of considerable interest +nevertheless. + +The question may arise whether architectural creation can be the +result of more than one kind of human impulse. Do not all buildings +erected by man, it may be asked, owe their origin to the same +unchanging desire, though the fruits of that desire may be many and +various? The answer is that there are, indeed, two distinct forces +at work, two separate impulses which, though most often acting in +combination, yet are neither similar in nature nor of equal importance. +We have only to look from Westminster Abbey to the Cenotaph in +Whitehall to realize that these two buildings are distinguished by +a profound difference of meaning and of intention. Let us take the +greatest possible difference and reduce it to its simplest aspect. It +is (we may say) the business of the architect to design buildings. But +he may set up round about his buildings a number of lesser objects such +as bridges, parapets, columns, fountains, and others suchlike. How do +these two kinds of structure compare? Are they different in size only, +and would the Cenotaph, if it were enlarged to the size of Westminster +Abbey, become a work of architecture commensurable with the Abbey? +Of course, it would not, for the simple reason that the Abbey has an +_inside_. Now, it is not by chance that the words _outer_ and _inner_ +have become, in all languages, the recognized metaphorical equivalents +of _body_ and _soul_. The usage is one that has occasionally been +condemned by students of the logic of language, but it rests upon a +perfectly sound foundation in that it appeals to an experience of +universal validity, an experience which, let it be noted, is derived +from architecture, and from architecture alone. A building is the only +thing that you may both look into and look out of, both extraspect and +introspect, and having learnt from the art of building thus to regard +the human mind from two sides, as it were, we should at all times be +careful to distinguish this dual aspect in buildings also. Now, in +whatever manner we may describe these two views and the difference +between them, this much is certain: that the greatest and most enduring +qualities in architecture are those that reside in the design and +arrangement of the internal spaces of a building, of those enclosing +forms that are, in the last resort, the only justification of that +building. + +The idea is familiar to the architect, if not perhaps in the very +words I have used, but he has not shown himself eager to let the +layman into the secret. How many of us have not been puzzled by the +mysterious significance attaching to the word _plan_, and the still +more mysterious aspect of the thing itself? What is there in a plan +(for something there must be) that gives it this supremacy among all +the possible representations of a building? A building worthy of the +name of great architecture, so a simple answer might run, is invariably +composed of a succession of spaces or cells. In this it resembles +the human body, which is made up of just such a series――the cranial, +thoracic and abdominal cavities, as we call them――with, in addition, +the mechanical attachments of the limbs. And in buildings, as in the +human body, the first essentials of beauty are to be found in the +shape, disposition, and junction of this sequence of cells. These are +the important facts about a building that are more fully revealed in a +plan than in any other kind of drawing. We now know why an architect +always hastens to record his ideas in the form of a plan――provided, +of course, that his subject is indeed an arrangement of inhabitable +cells. Sir Edwin Lutyens did not begin by sketching out the _plan_ of +his Cenotaph, but he cannot have found anything except a plan of much +use in recording his ideas for his great war memorials at Verdun and +Arras, a multicellular disposition, each of them, of great richness and +delicacy. + + _A pair of internal casts, illustrating the development of the + architectural cell group. Above, a one-room dwelling-house. + Below, a typical small house of the Regency period. The first + floor has been removed, but the elliptical staircase-well with + its lantern-light is shown complete. The front is double-bayed + and the vestibule has a vaulted ceiling._ + + [Illustration] + +Let us consider for a moment how this disposition has in the course +of time come about and how it has attained to its present complexity. +There follows, upon cave and tent, the one-roomed cottage, so distant +in spirit from the modern house, and yet persisting everywhere beside +it. Under its single roof the tenants sleep, cook, eat; the very +farmyard animals were once admitted to its shelter, as the camel and +donkey are to-day admitted to the Egyptian fellah’s hut. One by one, +however, this rudimentary dwelling puts forth cells as need sharpens +and opportunity comes: the cattle are expelled to one side, the kitchen +hearth to another, the beds to a third; cellar, larder, toolhouse +follow. New cells have fastened themselves to the older ones; the +house has become an organized collocation of parts; in it are found +the elements of a plan. But, though organized, it remains haphazard +in arrangement, what one of Jane Austen’s characters derisively calls +“a scrambling collection of low single rooms, with as many roofs as +windows.” Its growth is piecemeal and experimental, undirected, almost +blind. It does not, however, remain so for ever, for man is an animal +that learns by all that it does. In time these same elements, once +scattered, will be measured and composed together into a house by the +prescient mind of one who will henceforth be known as an architect. +A greater coherence, a greater orderliness, is gradually but surely +acquired, and from the growing power of large and orderly planning +there spring the ultimate achievements of architecture that are the +pride of our race. Town hall, palace, theatre, church, all these +proceed from this same skill in the fashioning of cells and in the +gathering of them into a reasoned whole, into a plan. + + _A typical church of the Italian mid-Renaissance with one + large and four smaller domes. This diagram and those on p. 19 + represent not the exterior of the building but the interior + space, its walls and ceilings removed, and regarded from + outside as a solid, on the same principle as that which governs + the design of the celestial globe._ + + [Illustration] + +To fashion, to gather; but at whose command? It is not for the +architect to decide what cells there shall be; cells of what size, +dedicated to what purpose, combined in what numbers. The architect +is a servant only, and these things are the business of his master. +It is when the master fails to attend to them that we get a building +without a content, without a soul: a building that is admitted to +the realm of architecture only on sufferance, since there is nothing +to give its cells any particular shape, or to suggest or enforce any +particular disposition of these cells. This is the typical building +of to-day and to-morrow, and among the various agencies that have +helped to bring it forth the freedom of modern woman is certainly the +first, and is probably the most important also. There are, in addition, +several causes of social instability that affect architecture in one +way or another, and each of them helps to render modern building +more uncertain, more indeterminate, or, as a biologist might say, +more clearly lacking in morphological differentiation. On the formal +side also (as contrasted with the functional) two lesser influences +may be noted in passing. One is that astonishing manifestation of +anti-æsthetic enthusiasm which has continued in more than one guise +ever since the beginning of civilized society, but which to-day gains +an added strength in that it has its source in the very stronghold of +art itself. It is to be feared that Marinetti’s advice to use the altar +of art as a spittoon has not been altogether neglected by architects, +though their fellow artists may have taken it rather more deeply to +heart. The other external influence is more subtle but no less active. +It has been pointed out that only in a plan can the chief virtues of +great architecture be adequately represented. It is a significant fact +that the chief vehicle of architectural information to-day, the most +popular means of recording architectural excellence, is the photograph, +not the plan, of which it is the direct opposite. The photograph +expresses all that the plan leaves unsaid; it ignores all save a +small remnant of the major qualities registered in the plan, and this +remnant it twists and falsifies to a degree which renders its testimony +worse than valueless. We have still to be shown the photograph that, +representing the interior of a room, will convey a modicum of reliable +information concerning the shape of that room. For in looking at a room +through a photograph we are, be it remembered, looking at it through +a small hole in a box. These two factors then have, in so far as they +enter into contact with architectural form, been clearly disruptive in +their effect, but the influence which must next engage our attention is +an incomparably deeper one. + +It is exactly half a century since the feminist movement began upon +the career whose triumphant finish coincided with the great Peace of +Versailles. There was in this country no feminist agitation worth +speaking of, until the signal was given by the Reform Bill of 1876. +In the very same year the late John Wanamaker, who had for some time +been in business in Philadelphia as a dealer in men’s and boys’ +clothing, discovered that women seemed prepared to do a certain amount +of shopping on their own account. He opened a new department, which +became the foundation of his later successes. Where men had walked +rapidly in and out, mindful only of the tie or the pair of boots they +had come to buy, a long procession of women wound its way from counter +to counter, dismayed by the many omissions in their shopping list, and +grateful to find how easily these omissions were to be repaired. The +small band of women workers marching to victory was followed by an +army of shoppers a hundred times more numerous, and of such energy and +enterprise that men’s clothing departments were everywhere incorporated +into their already extensive domain. The allegiance of the whole +body of women must have been coveted for some time, for even in the +early years of the nineteenth century the big west-end drapers would +clothe an eligible debutante in their choicest productions, generously +relying upon her to find a husband who could afford to pay her bills. +But though the bait was ready, its opportunity had still to be found, +and when the feminist movement at last provided it the large drapers’ +store leapt forward, and the two revolutions went on together in a +simultaneous advance. The first act of public violence was committed +by the adherents of feminism in 1909, and as the stones went crashing +through the windows of the Government offices in Whitehall, the newly +erected windows of Mr. Gordon Selfridge became the cynosure of the +more pacific among feminine eyes. It will be necessary later on to +consider the influence of modern woman from other angles of view, but +we may be sure that from none of these has it been more potent or more +remarkable, for as a consumer of wealth she is transforming the design +of our buildings more thoroughly than is clear even to-day. + +Very few years elapse before the large new drapery store assumes the +characteristic form that will gradually impose itself upon many of +our other buildings. It is realized almost at once that no external +wall must cut off the ground floor of the building from the pavement +of the street, for the business can only succeed if the undreamt-of +collection of goods is amply and seductively displayed to the feminine +passer-by. For some time experiments were made (notably by the Leonhard +Tietz stores in Germany) with buildings clothed in glass from top +to bottom, but, though German architects are still toying with the +idea, the familiar stretches of undivided glass are nowadays applied +to the ground floor only. Inside the buildings, however, no walls +are wanted at any point, on any of the floors, and there we find +large open spaces offering no obstruction to the view, and allowing +counters and show-cases to be moved backwards and forwards with the +capricious tides of fashion. No longer is the building composed of an +expressive sequence of definitely formed cavities; there is only layer +upon layer of formless space, tier upon tier of vacant sites, along +which the hundred specialized departments may pitch their glittering +booths. It no more resembles a piece of major architecture than does +a market-place covered with awnings and sunshades. It has become, in +fact, a flight of hanging market-places piled one upon the other, +rising high into the air, and delving many yards into the ground. + +The constituent parts of this type of building are fourfold. There are +the floors themselves; and there are the props necessary to support +these floors. There is the covering, opaque or transparent, in which +the top and sides are wrapped to protect the contents from the weather. +Lastly, there is the private road which runs through the building from +top to bottom. This road belongs to the modern composite type about +which a little more still requires to be said. Let us here but observe +that, reared on end and pointing upward, it allows visitors to ride +or walk from one level to another, while at the same time it contains +within itself the numerous pipes and conduits through which water, +heat and electrical energy are delivered to each floor, and the sewage +carried away from it and discharged into the public drain. + + _Part of a modern commercial building, divested of its outer + wall curtain and with the supporting metal framework removed. + The U-shaped floor-platforms are, as it were, threaded on the + vertical road, in which are contained the lifts and stairways + and the various kinds of conduits. (Woolworth Building, New + York, by Cass Gilbert.)_ + + [Illustration] + +The new eviscerated architecture, once invented by the builder of +the drapery store for his regiments of feminine customers, did not +take long to gain a very considerable following. Indeed, it could not +have had a more auspicious place of origin. As the bee carries the +pollen from flower to flower, so the no less indefatigable draper +carried the seeds of this architecture into the streets of every town +of importance. We need only remind ourselves of the manner in which +he is pressing forward to-day in the West End of London, transmuting +with golden wand the whole of Regent Street, large portions of Oxford +Street, and a great deal of Kensington and Bayswater, into something +very rich and, as I have tried to show, not a little strange. Richest +of all, perhaps, is the colonnade in Oxford Street whose relation to +the rest of London is the relation between the majestic bulk of a +transatlantic liner and the diminutive proportions of the fleet of +tugboats that surrounds her. The modern drapery store is as large as +it is ubiquitous, and its wealth and power are consonant with these +outward signs of importance. The Wanamaker store, of which I have +already spoken, provides an interesting example of the eminence to +which these establishments have to-day attained. Everybody is aware +of the interest displayed by publications such as the _Daily Mail_ +in the building and equipment of the suburban home, an interest +which it would appear not unprofitable for them to indulge. The New +York Wanamaker store, however, opened in October, 1925, a great and +fascinating exhibition devoted exclusively to the future development +of the city of New York. The first, to my knowledge, of its kind to be +held anywhere, such an exhibition argues a sense of responsibility, a +foresight, courage and public spirit that would be hard to parallel +in any kind of business. Most of all, of course, it points to a very +considerable degree of affluence, for the exhibition itself was +accompanied by a wide and intensive publicity campaign in the New York +Press. A commercial house that can afford to take such pains towards +the popularizing of architectural and town-planning development schemes +may claim to be a fairly important institution and an opulent patron +of the arts. Both the importance and the opulence have been conferred +upon the drapery store by the emancipated women of to-day. + +The possibilities of open-floor design for all kinds of building were, +then, abundantly exhibited and widely perceived. From shop and factory +the new device spread to the office block, whose claim to be in the +modern movement is not usually admitted unless it consists of the same +succession of shelf-like floors suspended round a central road. Schools +and universities have already subscribed to the principle of unformed +and undivided space. An appeal recently issued on behalf of the +University of Pittsburg opens with the statement that 14,460,000 cubic +feet of space are required for the University to discharge its normal +functions. I cannot forbear to mention that one of the objects of the +new buildings is (so the appeal goes on to tell us) to commemorate “the +achievers of Pittsburg” and to testify to their “records of tonnage +production.” The idea of perpetuating Pittsburg tonnage production in +14,460,000 cubic feet of University is not without a pleasing logic of +its own. + +And what of the house and home? Are we to meet there, too, with the +same undefined vacuity, the same absence of internal form? Already a +Dutch architect has built a house with nothing inside its four outer +walls except an upper floor to which an open stairway gives access. +The upper and lower floors are subdivided by means of movable screens, +which enable the owner to arrange his rooms according to the fancy of +the moment, and, I suppose, to adjust his houseroom to the measure of +his hospitality. This is, of course, how houses are mostly constructed +in Japan, but it should be remembered that, though the Japanese house +is built entirely without walls, whether internal or external, it yet +exhibits the utmost complexity and formal refinement in the general +lines of its design. The plan is there, though only its skeleton is +permanent, and wall-divisions are made movable for another reason +than that which is causing them to vanish from our Western buildings. +Moreover, the Japanese house is of one storey only, and if the open +floor is likewise to establish itself for good in our own domestic +architecture, it will probably be restricted with us also to the +one-storey dwelling, to bungalow and town flat. But even in these the +outer walls and windows will, of course, remain――at any rate until we +acquire the hardy constitution of the Japanese, to whom a paper screen +is sufficient protection in all weathers. + +The breakdown of the principal architectural impulse is complete the +moment the function of a building is expressed in an undifferentiated +mass of cubic feet. It is at this moment that the second great +movement, the movement which is to substitute a new external impulse +for the old internal one, first becomes manifest. This movement +springs, it will be recalled, from the threatened failure of our +communications, a failure which is due, however, to no deficiency +in these communications themselves, but to the vast and unequal +overcrowding of modern cities. And the great increase of our populations +that is the principal achievement of the nineteenth century presents +three aspects, each one of which requires at this point to be carefully +borne in mind. + +First, the growth of population was not uniformly distributed, but went +on far more swiftly in the great towns of Europe and America than it +did throughout the countryside. Thus, while the population of England +and Wales increased by about 90 per cent. between 1861 and 1921, +the corresponding advance for London was about 133 per cent., while +Berlin and New York went up by 500 and 600 per cent. respectively. +The difference, however, is a diminishing one, having been far greater +throughout the second half of the nineteenth century than it is to-day. +Our English urban population, for example, grew during the decade +1870–1880 at a rate which was nearly 200 per cent. in excess of the +rate of growth of the rural population. The first decade of the present +century shows an excess in the urban rate over the rural of only 10 per +cent. + +Our second observation is this: that during the time when it was at +its highest point, the rate of growth of the urban population rose +too rapidly for the concomitant growth of building to keep pace with +it. The result was that the growth of building fell into arrears, and +that such arrears still in part remain to be made good to-day. As the +inhabitants became more numerous so the shortage of houses became +more acute, until at last an ugly and even dangerous congestion of +human beings began everywhere to show itself. This congestion would +never have existed if the rate of building had been equal to the rate +of growth of the population; swift as it was, the rate of building +could never become swift enough. A similar condition, though due to a +different cause, prevailed after the great Fire of London, when Wren +himself was driven to denounce the ill effects that flowed from “the +mighty demand for the hasty works of thousands of houses at once.” Now, +it is a commonplace that the growth of building may proceed in two +directions, but it is not always realized that the two kinds of growth +must proceed together, that each has its appointed function which the +other is powerless to discharge. The growth of a town _outward_ at its +periphery is necessary, and the _upward_ growth of its central region +is also necessary. The first was the chief concern of the town-planning +of yesterday and to-day, which unfortunately failed to carry out its +appointed task. The second is likely to become the chief concern of the +town-planning of the immediate future. Let us hope that it may be more +fortunate. + +These two growths are identical in one respect. Each of them remains, +like all forms of growth known to science, entirely normal and +beneficial so long as it is correctly regulated. We know that the growth +of different parts of our body is regulated by means of chemical +substances known as hormones, and that where certain hormones are +lacking, or present in excess, we get the dwarf and the giant, goitre +and cretinism. When it happens to the builders of a city that, in the +happy phraseology of a seventeenth-century pamphlet, “the Magistrate has +either no power or no care to make them build with any uniformity,” they +at once become the agents of a growth that is just as abnormal, just as +obnoxious, as these physiological ones. It would seem, as the nineteenth +century has taught us, that the power of regulating architectural growth +begins to fail when that growth exceeds a certain measure of speed and +urgency. Clearly, as the rate of growth increases, so the regulating +power must also increase if it is to retain an effective control over +building, for if it fails to increase in a similar ratio its influence +must come to an end. This is what has happened all too often. Nor, +haphazard and ungracious as the growth of building has been throughout +the whole of Western civilization, has it anywhere been more irregular +than at those points where it has moved most swiftly, and where the +demands of the expanding population have reached the utmost severity of +pressure. We are often told that New York is a city of high buildings. +It is nothing of the kind: it is a moderately low city disfigured by +_a few_ high buildings only. Not more than one building in every +thousand in the Manhattan Island district, famous for its skyscrapers, +exceeds twenty storeys in height. Nor should it be forgotten that the +_average_ height of buildings in New York is exactly the same as that +obtaining in London, and rather less than the height of buildings in +Paris. But while the upward growth of the two European cities has by no +means been uniform and harmonious, it has not attained to the +astonishing irregularity that receives such unmerited praise from +English visitors to New York. It is the irregularity that is of +consequence, and the source of this irregularity lies, on the one hand, +in the sharp and unequally resisted strain put upon building by its +effort to overtake the rate of increase of population, and, on the +other, in the complete or partial breakdown of proper civic control, +and the renunciation of the civic standard in building. + +The third fact that has to be recorded in connection with the growth of +our populations is a curious one. While the growth of building merely +tended to become proportionate to the growth of the population, it was +necessary that the means of communication should increase at a much +faster rate. The more people there were, the more often and the more +rapidly these people were compelled to move about from one place to +another. Thus, while the inhabitants of Europe and America multiplied, +let us say, like the interest gathering upon a fixed capital sum, the +movement of these inhabitants, of their various belongings, their +food and drink, the materials and products of their labour, the waste +left over from their individual and corporate metabolism, all this +movement grew in scope, volume and swiftness in the manner of compound +interest, or like a snowball enlarging itself into an avalanche. It +is impossible in these pages to examine this mysterious law in any +detail, but an example of its working may perhaps be given. It was +stated just now that during the sixty years 1861–1921 the population +of England and Wales increased by about 90 per cent., or, roughly, +from twenty millions to thirty-eight. Many figures might be quoted to +illustrate the growth of communications during the same period, but +those yielded by the Post Office, at whose enterprising hands this +growth took origin, will be enough for our purpose. We find, then, +that the annual postal revenue of this country had, in the year 1921, +increased to forty-five millions from four millions in 1861, an advance +of 1025 per cent. If this is the rate at which our communications must +expand, no wonder the London traffic authorities complain that the +more facilities they are able to provide, the greater becomes the +demand made upon those facilities. Startling as the Post Office figures +may seem, if we could as readily estimate the growth of the total +movement along our roads, including not only pedestrian and vehicular +traffic, but the transmission of water, fuel, and sewage, and of +written and spoken messages as well, we should find the growth yet more +considerable. Nor should we be surprised at the long, heroic struggle +of nineteenth-century scientists and legislators to perfect this great +and complicated thing, the modern road, or marvel to see them extend +it hither and thither, and guard it from encroachments, and level and +straighten out its trajectory, and search out a firm foundation for +it, and render its surface hard and impervious, and dry it, clean it, +illuminate it, and at last equip it for the automatic distribution of +water and fuel, and for a continuous scavenging of all our towns. + +It is this remarkable achievement of civilized man that to-day +threatens to become ineffective. No sooner had the growth begun than +it became clear that a keen rivalry between buildings and roads was +inevitable, and further that unless the balance between these two +were jealously maintained, the result to the road, so necessary to +the life of our civilization, would be disastrous. The first half of +the nineteenth century saw the passing of innumerable private Acts +connected with roadmaking, and in 1848 the famous Public Health Act +set up a considerable national machinery, since improved and extended +by many later measures. The Public Health Act has, in point of fact, +two objects. While the more important of these is to ensure the +quick, safe and efficient development of the roads, the Act was also +designed to ensure that the growth of new buildings should not, in its +headlong speed, fall below a decent standard of strength, comfort and +cleanliness. But all this time the road remains the special care of +the authorities, for, while in their capacity of building controllers +they merely inspect and sanction such work as is being done by private +enterprise, they themselves undertake the making and mending of roads +with increasing pertinacity. Nor would their work have shown the +smallest sign of failure were it not for the abnormal and unregulated +growth of our large cities, a growth which has now reached a stage at +which the roadmaker must assume a measure of control if the traffic in +our streets is to continue in motion. + +The control of buildings is no new thing. In addition to the measures +enacted to safeguard the integrity of the road-space we have had, for +several centuries, the right to protest against a building being put +up for a purpose that may be considered noxious. Not only has this +right been enforced directly by means of legislation, but the State +has made itself responsible for seeing that such undertakings as are +entered into between landowner and tenant are carried out to the +letter. If anyone proposed to erect a poison-gas factory in Grosvenor +Square, his neighbours would have immediate power to restrain him, +while a fruiterer’s shop could only be expelled if its owner were +found to violate the conditions under which the land is granted. The +law, however, upholds such conditions, and by these two means manages +to exercise a considerable measure of _user control_, as it is now +commonly called. Now, zoning is, by its very name, a comprehensive +system of user control of this same kind. In so far, however, as +it merely forbids the erection of a certain class of building in a +stated zone, it can scarcely be said to influence architectural form. +The true architectural importance of zoning lies in the fact that, +the town-planner having failed adequately to control the _height_ of +buildings, it places in the hands of the roadmaker “emergency” powers +enabling him to control their _capacity_. + +He cannot, however, hope to do this justly and usefully without +paying due regard to the use or function of each building at the same +time that he inquires into its capacity, and this dual control is in +fact the peculiar object of the roadmaker in his quality of zoning +controller. Let me give an example of how he goes to work. It has been +calculated by the committee which is preparing the development plan +for the New York region that one mile of theatres is the cause of a +daily traffic movement of 36,000 vehicles. The corresponding figure for +a street of suburban shops is only one-fourth as high, while a mile +of factories of ordinary size is responsible for a mere 600 vehicles. +On the other hand, the rapid development of labour-saving machinery +is daily increasing the output of modern factories, and has, during +the last seven years, more than doubled the amount per worker of +goods traffic going in and out of the average American workshop. In +addition to the moving vehicles, the stationary ones, too, require to +be considered, though a time is no doubt approaching when the parking +of cars on public ground will be forbidden in most large towns. The +worst aspect of this subsidiary problem is, of course, presented +by places of amusement, whose audiences are acquiring the motor-car +habit even more rapidly than the community as a whole. Not many years +will elapse before American theatre and concert audiences habituate +themselves to the motor-car to the exclusion of any other vehicle, +and when this condition has been reached the mile of theatres already +referred to will require a strip of land over a hundred feet wide along +its entire length, in order to make room for the lines of waiting cars. +Fortunately the motor-car has not yet attained such wide patronage in +our own country, but anyone who will stroll down the narrow streets on +the west side of Shaftesbury Avenue, say between the hours of eight +and ten, on a week-day night, must conclude that with us also the +difficulties are fast growing acute. + +What is the solution to this knot of related problems? We can only +reach it if we calculate the capacity of each building, multiply this +figure by its traffic-producing coefficient, and then set this figure +against the capacity of the surrounding streets. Difficult as these +computations may appear, they yet are entirely feasible. Upon them is +founded the science of zoning, a science which is as yet so imperfectly +understood by the majority of us that it has been necessary to +describe its origin and purpose in some detail. We may now go on to ask +what is likely to be its effect on the architecture of the immediate +future. The answer is one which may appear to contradict itself. +Devised for the purpose of protecting the street from the undue growth +of its buildings, the zoning ordinance must tend before all else to +encourage the growth in size of the average individual building, and to +grant it a measure of formal autonomy which will rapidly destroy the +few remaining vestiges of coherent street design. + +A height restriction, such as those in force in England, is founded +upon a conception of civic order, but it may in addition have one +of three practical objects. It may be designed to prevent unstable +construction, or to ensure that the surrounding area is not unduly +darkened, or to allow a jet of water to sweep over the roof in an +outbreak of fire. The zoning ordinance is concerned with none of these +things. Its object is to regulate capacity alone, and this it does by +drawing an inclined line upward from the centre of the street, thus +fixing an angle within which the outline of the building is forced to +remain. Now, it is in the first place to be observed that rapidly +sloping walls are as impracticable as they are unsightly in buildings +of great height. It follows that the ordinance may best be complied +with by breaking up the façade into receding vertical planes, each +separated from the next by a narrow terrace. And the larger is the +site occupied by a building thus falling back along a fixed angle, the +higher this building will be allowed to reach, for in a triangle of +which the angles remain constant the height will vary as the base. In +the second place, a building measuring more than, say, sixty or seventy +feet in depth will require an open area to provide it with an adequate +supply of light and air. In a skyscraper of the old-fashioned type it +was the custom to place this area at the centre of the building, which +became a quadrangular box, encircling the four sides of a deep central +void. But it is at its centre that a building erected under the zoning +ordinance is allowed to reach its maximum height. To give up this part, +more valuable than any other, for the necessary area would of course be +folly, and the area is, in consequence, placed where the sacrifice of +useful volume will be smallest, that is to say, at the periphery of the +building, in such a manner as to lie open to the street. + + _A zoned building, consisting of an H-shaped arrangement of + parallelepipeds with two external areas. The influence of the + American zoning law is visible in the upper part only. It + accounts for the stepping-back of the central block and the + octagonal tower that surmounts each corner. (Fraternity Clubs + Building, New York, by Murgatroyd and Ogden.)_ + + [Illustration] + +A building erected under the zoning ordinance will, therefore, occupy +as much ground as its promoter is able to buy with borrowed money, +and will, wherever possible, spread itself over the entire area of a +city block, so that it is bounded by a street on all four sides. Its +outline will, in addition, present two striking characteristics. It +will rise on all sides in a succession of receding stages gathered +at the summit in a central tower-like mass which, provided its area +does not exceed a prescribed limit, may itself escape the restraining +influence and rise unhindered. And while at each corner the street wall +itself is brought to the full height permissible under the ordinance, +the central part of each façade will be recessed so as to form one or +several open courts or areas. At the moment of writing, London is about +to witness the completion of its first building designed along these +lines. Why the American zoning regulations should have been made to +govern the design of the new Devonshire House building in London is not +excessively clear, but this interesting piece of work does at any rate +provide a valuable illustration of the laws of growth to which American +architecture will in future be subject. For this reason it is by far +the most interesting and the most characteristically modern of our +large new buildings. There is just now a curious tendency to describe +as modern a small number of structures whose windows are treated in +accordance with a short-lived æsthetic fashion of thirty years ago. +Devonshire House furnishes proof that architecture is able to be more +modern than that, for here the new zoning ordinance is, for the first +time in London, shown actively at work. + + _A zoned building, more recent than the last, showing + the American zoning law in full operation. The central + parallelepiped here runs across the two others, thus forming + six external areas separated by six buttress-like projections. + Each of these projections is stepped back in obedience to the + zoning law. (Bell Telephone Building, St. Louis, by Russell and + Crowell.)_ + + [Illustration] + +We may now see why it was remarked that zoning had substituted a new +architectural impulse for the governing impulse of internal form to +which we owe the major masterpieces of architecture. A zoned building +can never be a masterpiece in the same sense as these. You cannot +compare a zoned building to Chartres Cathedral, any more than you can +compare a suit of clothes to a paper-weight. The form of the one is +dictated by something working from inside outwards, while the form of +the other is the result of an agency working upon the surface from +without. The paper-weight may be as beautiful in its way, but its +beauty does not arise, as the beauty of clothing arises, from its +power to invest the human form with an apt, expressive and dignified +integument. In the same manner the zoned building may be beautiful, but +not with the beauty of the greatest architecture, which consists in +the fashioning of a dwelling-place, human or divine, in such a manner +as to guard and delight those who enter into it. The zoned building +is, I repeat, like the University of Pittsburg, a matter of cubic feet +piled up around a private road. Any new formal impulse that may control +its growth resides in the street without; any new formal excellence it +may exhibit has for its origin the directing authority of this street. +But in spite of the inferior quality of its products, it is easy to +see that the zoning ordinance holds out a considerable promise to the +architecture of the future, supplying a fresh and vigorous motive in +the place of an older that is rapidly failing, and setting up the +authority of reason where caprice alone now rules. + +Before we leave this subject, a word may perhaps be added concerning +the limitations of this method of control. It clearly cannot be applied +everywhere with equally pleasing results. A town or a district in which +the streets run at right angles to one another will show it at its +best, for there, and there only, will it be possible for the defining +lines to meet with any degree of regularity. London buildings, too, +have sometimes to conform to a stipulated angle, though for another +reason than those of New York. But the irregularity of our streets, and +the narrowness of most of our building frontages, have caused these +controlling angles to become a source of grotesque heterogeneity and +ugliness instead of allowing them to establish a new kind of order. +Nor should our town be one containing sites excessively large, or have +some of its streets so narrowly spaced as to produce sites that are +sensibly smaller than the average. The larger area will permit of too +great a building height, the smaller of too little, and it would appear +necessary that the “street block” should, in addition to a regular +outline, observe an approximate equality of size also. Founded upon +these two equalities, the zoning ordinances proceed to build up an +equality of height, of content, which in its turn begets yet another +that is the guarantee of their ultimate success. For nothing will +prosper in America that does not pay, and fortunately zoning has been +found to pay, and to pay very handsomely. The “realtors” of the big +American towns did not take long to discover that, while the building +of a skyscraper must enhance the value of the surrounding land, this +enhancement is considerably greater where the growth is controlled than +where it is left free to congest, and stifle, and darken, as in the +licence of nineteenth-century New York. To the neighbouring landowner +an unregulated skyscraper, if it pointed to a new opportunity, was +at the same time an evil and a discouragement, for, if all buildings +simultaneously went up to those same heights, would they not mutually +destroy one another? The zoning ordinance has thus become a part of +the republican policy of the United States, under which a competitive +society is made to bring forth numbers rather than eminence, and +watches over these its children with democratic solicitude. + +We have examined with some care the evolution of wheeled traffic and +the changes its multiplication must inevitably bring about in the +appearance of our streets. Is not flying, it may be asked, always +described as the locomotion of the future, and is not the shape of +our buildings likely to reflect so important a development? The first +part of this question would take us beyond the scope of the present +essay, but the answer to the second part may perhaps form the subject +of a digressive paragraph. One might reasonably say that the design +of a building is likely to respond to the needs of aerial traffic in +three ways only, but not in any way that is likely to be of great +consequence. The first possibility is that a building may be required +providing means whereby aeroplanes are enabled to make a safe landing +on its roof. A flat roof of ample dimensions thus becomes necessary, +and yet we have seen that one of the effects of the zoning ordinance +is to break up the roof surface of a building into a series of narrow +ledges. A building upon the top of which it is desired to bring an +aeroplane to land will, therefore, in those places where zoning +prevails, need to be conspicuously low. Possibly a roof may here and +there be projected outward beyond the walls of a building, an expedient +whose drawbacks are such that it is unlikely to be often adopted. In +any case it will be necessary to provide an entrance to the building +from this roof, but there is nothing very new about that. The second +possibility is that the aeroplane may have to be lowered from the +roof of the building to the street level. The easiest way of making +this descent is (to quote from a newspaper advertisement of the great +Wanamaker exhibition to which I have referred) by “corkscrewing down +the exterior of the building.” One of the great mural cartoons included +(side by side with a Ford “family aeroplane”) in this exhibition shows +an enormous cylindrical tower, encircled by a descending spiral, +very much like a corkscrew in appearance. This tower is not, however, +an ordinary city building, but, reaching high above the concourse of +these, a special structure surmounted by a mooring mast for dirigibles. +Happily the building has yet to be designed that will, while giving +shelter, however unworthy, to human beings, wrap itself in a broad +fire-escape for the convenience of corkscrewing aeroplanes. And there +is, on the whole, no ground for supposing that our urban architecture +will at any time pay so exorbitant a regard to the advance of the +aeroplane as to transform itself in this manner. + +But it will be remarked that aerial travel is bound to call into being +a number of buildings of a special kind, devoted to this one purpose +alone. May we expect such buildings to be as novel and as eminently +characteristic as the Wanamaker cartoon would appear to suggest? It +is difficult to believe that among them there will be anything more +unusual than the dirigible hangar, which is already a familiar sight, +and which, to do it justice, has a peculiar interest in that it is the +only modern building whose purpose contains an unanswerable argument +for a roof vaulted throughout its entire breadth. The hangar built at +Orly by the French engineer Freyssinet is perhaps the example best +known in this country; if it is not, it certainly deserves to be. But +though the rounded shape of a balloon clearly demands a vaulted roof, +there is no reason why such roofs should not be used elsewhere, as +they have in fact been used for many centuries; and in his Utrecht +Post Office the Dutch architect Crouwel has given us a building that, +stripped of its great clock and its counters and other furnishings, +might easily be mistaken by a wandering dirigible for its accustomed +lair. Striking though the appearance of the Orly hangar may be found, +it would scarcely be fair to attribute its success to the peculiar +function it so efficiently discharges. And if this is all that the +dirigible balloon is likely to do for architecture, what shall we +say of the aeroplane? It would appear that only when practising the +movement described by our American friends as “corkscrewing” will +the aeroplane need the help of the architectural innovator. Till +then we must remain content to see it inhabit a structure hardly +distinguishable from the coach-house of our forbears. + +The prospect opened to us by aerial locomotion is limited, for +no matter how high our winged vehicles may one moment soar, they +cannot approach the earth without losing much of their glamour and +strangeness. Let us turn instead to the far more considerable factor +which came before us at the beginning of this essay. The emancipation +of modern woman was there glanced at in only one of the three aspects +of which the two others have still to be regarded. We saw how, as a +consumer of wealth, she has been instrumental in withdrawing the art of +building from the light of its central inspiration, and depriving it of +the most highly treasured of its resources. As a producer of wealth, +her influence has perhaps been less momentous, but it is by no means +to be disregarded, for the modern dwelling-house exhibits the fruits +of it in almost every detail of planning and equipment. So profound +are the changes it has suffered that a medium-sized house, built, say, +three generations ago, and left in its original state, presents almost +insuperable difficulties to the housewife of to-day. Its cavernous +succession of kitchens and larders, its monumental boiling ranges, its +numberless stairs and endless dim passages, all of these things must +fall into desuetude, unless a regiment of muscular girls and women is +enlisted to maintain order among them. We all know how in the leisurely +age of our great-grandmothers a house was much more loosely, more +vaguely planned, with nothing resembling the meticulous precision that +is brought to bear upon it to-day. It was not necessary in those days +to measure the distance the housewife had to walk in order to put the +dinner on the table, for the walk was one which she was never called +upon to take. There was no need to place a roomy and well-ventilated +linen-cupboard close to the principal bedrooms, for the bedroom linen +might be kept anywhere and fetched from anywhere without inflicting +appreciable hardship upon the housewife. But wide though the gulf may +be that divides the modern house from that of the early nineteenth +century, the novelty of the former would not be nearly so apparent +were it not for the much broader gulf by which it is divided from +that of a generation later. During the second half of the century the +romantic revival was scattering over the country a number of houses +whose unpracticalness was so gigantic that they could only strike +the beholder completely dumb. The labyrinth at Knossos being at that +time still undiscovered, these structures are generally presumed to +derive from the cathedrals and dungeons of the Middle Ages. It is by +comparison with these preposterous inventions that the post-war house +stands out in a yet more appealing and more individual light. Instead +of losing purpose and definition, like the typical city building, it +has gained vastly in both these qualities, and it has gained because, +from being the scene of the housewife’s activities, it has become her +instrument and ally, and sometimes (it must be admitted) her accomplice +even. + +The next step, indeed, has already been taken. It is possible even now +to watch the modern residence gradually assuming the properties of a +machine. At the beginning of the last century nine-tenths of the cost +of a house went into the structure, while the remaining tenth paid for +its fixtures and equipment. Nowadays we spend almost as much on drains +and plumbing, on baths and closets, on bedroom lavatory basins supplied +with hot water, on central heating, electric light, telephones and +suchlike, as we spend on the building of the house. So remarkable has +been this development that an American writer has prophesied a period +when houses will be given away free with the plumbing. It is doubtful +whether such munificence will ever become a commercial possibility, but +the prophecy contains more than a modicum of truth. We may reasonably +expect to see all but the most indispensable furniture done away +with in the small house of to-morrow, while its walls, ceilings, and +doors will assume a blankness and roundedness that has hitherto been +thought needful only in the operating chambers of our hospitals. In +order still to reduce the housewife’s labours, the apartments will +be brought together in those vast blocks that are meeting with such +strenuous opposition from private householders in the United States, +an opposition to which the zoning authorities have almost invariably +given every support. What is the reason for this opposition? It is +that a new apartment house will (in the words of a recent American +Court pronouncement) “increase the fire hazard” of the district upon +which it intrudes, and will be “creative of noises from autos, taxis, +milk wagons, drays, etc., in a locality where peace and quiet now +prevail; it will obstruct light and air, and sooner or later it will +bring with it the immoralities which always attend the building of +such structures.” The list of its potential misdeeds goes on, but I +have quoted at sufficient length to show what are the conditions to be +expected when the house is supplanted by large, noisy, and efficient +machines, which none but the richest and the poorest may altogether +elude. + +Is it inevitable that they will be so supplanted? The displacement +is steadily going on, and the scope and rapidity of the process must +depend upon the eagerness with which modern woman sets herself to pluck +the fruits of liberty that are now so compliantly brought within her +reach. It should be borne in mind, however, that the mechanization +of the house is inspired by a purpose diametrically opposite to that +entertained by the pioneers of modern methods in industry. The triumph +of the powerloom over the handloom was conditioned by its ability to +produce so many more yards of material than the handloom could be made +to yield. But while the machine was introduced into the industrial +world in order to multiply the products of labour, the object of the +modern house is to diminish the necessity for labour. By exchanging the +handloom for the powerloom the weaver could, while still taking the +same amount of trouble, produce a greater result, but when the modern +housewife moves into a labour-saving flat her object is by taking +considerably less trouble to produce the same result as before. How +and where she spends the hours of leisure thus acquired is a question +which does not bear upon our present argument, except in so far as this +leisure has enabled her to raise the drapery store to the exalted +place it occupies to-day, and by this means to divert the trend of +modern architecture in the direction which we have just been following. + +It is, then, largely by virtue of her new position as a producer that +the woman of to-day has become able to exercise such a signal influence +in her quality of consumer of wealth. But from both these points of +view we may perceive her acting immediately upon the main architectural +current, while, if we consider her from the conjugal point of view, her +influence will show itself only in the flow of the tributary stream +which is conveniently described as decoration. It is a regrettable +fact that the decorative arts in England had, until they suddenly came +within this influence, shown not the smallest sign of vitality since +Soane and Nash translated the Attic enthusiasm of Shelley, Landor and +Winckelmann into stone and stucco. Learned though he may have been, +there can be no doubt that John Soane was as genuinely moved by the +masterpieces of Greek decoration as Shelley by the large and authentic +voices of Plato and Æschylus. The modern decorator, however, who +ransacks the storehouse of history from Robert Adam to the caves of +prehistoric man, is never animated by better instincts than those +of the merchant adventurer, and often enough by worse. Of a creative +impulse he is completely innocent. And what are we to say of the +teaching of Ruskin, who followed upon the heels of these great men, +except that it was calculated to impart a knowledge not so much of +decoration as of botany, while its temper was wholly inimical to such +pleasure as might yet be taken here and there in decorative skill? +Stifled by the tedious pullulation of Ruskin’s “natural forms,” this +pleasure appears to be awakening once more, and it is to modern woman +that we must look for the cause of this awakening. + +A convenient way of picturing the change of outlook that has led to +this revival is to compare two familiar works of nineteenth-century +fiction separated by a generation or two. Gautier’s _Mademoiselle de +Maupin_ contains long passages redolent of that nature-worship which +made Wordsworth a best-seller and which inspired our Ruskin to discard +the principles of decorative design in favour of those derived from +the study of plant growth. Innumerable landscapes are presented to us +in this book, many of them bathed in moonlight of the most impeccable +romantic quality. Country mansions, pleasure-pavilions, creeper-clad +cottages, all these are concealed beneath a dense mass of verdure, +their existence briefly hinted at, while the sinuous paths by which +they may be approached are made the subject of the closest description, +together with the trees, shrubs, creepers, herbs and mosses which +form their setting. Such power of attention as remains in the reader +is skilfully directed upon the subject of feminine apparel, to the +treatment of which the author brings a sympathy and animation almost +equal to those with which he approaches the vegetable kingdom. But the +apartments through which his characters move, the walls and furniture +against which their forms, so exquisitely clad, stand disclosed to the +reader, receive as little thought as the exterior of the buildings, +so that it is impossible for us to say what they are like. As soon as +the men and women cross the threshold of a house, an impenetrable mist +descends upon their surroundings. Alas, there was no one to take any +interest in even the most delightful of the houses or rooms, and we are +left to reconstruct them for ourselves, aided only by our knowledge of +a few authentic remains. + +In Zola’s Nana we have a complete antithesis to this fatigue, this +chlorosis of the decorative faculty. The adornment of her immediate +setting has with this famous character become a consuming passion. Her +intuitive artistic knowledge, her manifold inventiveness, never cease +to astonish the architects and decorators who work at her bidding. Nor, +in her brief but triumphant career through the world of vice, does she +once tire of devising fresh schemes of decoration, schemes which Zola +himself appears to regard with an enthusiasm approaching that of his +heroine. As she pauses at last on the brink of financial ruin, this +passion for decoration flares up with an almost hysterical intensity. +It is then that she dreams of “un prodige, un éblouissement ... un lit +comme il n’en existait pas, un trône, un autel ... en or et en argent +repoussés, pareil à un grand bijou.” To the end her preoccupation +maintains its firm hold upon her, for through it alone it was that she +could gain her mysterious ascendancy over the minds and the senses of +men. “Jamais elle n’avait senti si profondément la force de son sexe,” +remarks Zola as he shows her to us happily contemplating the scenes of +prodigious elegance that she had established around her. Such is the +change of attitude which nineteenth-century society must somehow have +witnessed before it could be so brilliantly recorded in writing. It is +a similar change that has infused new life into modern decoration. + +The question may present itself whether to connect this movement +with Zola’s unfortunate heroine is not to detract from its merit or +importance. That must remain entirely a matter for individual judgment. +I will here but remark that, in borrowing their light from the +constellation of unhappy spirits in which Nana shone so vividly, the +decorative arts are only imitating the example set throughout Europe +and America by the art of feminine dress, and that whatever is said +of one of these arts applies to the other also. But this superficial +resemblance is not the only thing that unites decoration with dress, +for the modern movement in decoration cannot be better described than +as an enlargement of the old and more immediate business of personal +adornment. Both currents spring from a common source, and if the +younger of them will always remain in some respects apart from its +sartorial companion, grown with the centuries into a venerable historic +stream, we yet have reason to be thankful that the arid waste of +decoration is being watered again, however fitfully. + +What is it that has turned the decorator of to-day into a kind of +transcendent costumier? I here have room to hint at a couple of +reasons only. In the first place, it should be remembered that while +the avowed ideal of masculine clothing is to render its wearers +inconspicuous by causing them all to look alike, the ideal of feminine +clothing is to give an appearance of strangeness and singularity. Now, +nothing could accord more happily with our mechanical civilization than +the masculine ideal; nothing, on the other hand, could come into more +violent and more disappointing conflict with it than the feminine. +Modern industry does not discriminate; it holds out to both sexes +the same opportunities for acquisition, it heaps upon both the same +monotonous profusion of manufactured goods. A hat, a mantle, a gown, +is no sooner devised than a million others of the selfsame pattern +pour in steady streams into every corner of the world. A startling +colour cannot be affected by someone eager to achieve distinction of +appearance without multiplying more rapidly than the budding green +in Mr. Wells’ _Time Machine_. Provincial visitors to the West End of +London are astonished at the number of well-dressed women they see +about the streets, and profess themselves unable to distinguish between +a duchess and a shop-assistant, while Londoners who tread for the +first time the pavements of Paris or New York find themselves similarly +baffled. Thanks to the ceaseless activities of the large drapers’ +store (supported by the admirable enterprise of artificial silk +manufacturers) no woman to-day, however penurious, need deny herself +any of those elegant accessories that were the crowning luxury of her +ancestors. But, pleasing as this facility may be to the multitude, is +it to be imagined that the more fortunate or ambitious can look upon it +with the same satisfaction? Assuredly not, for they have even invoked +the law of copyright in their attempt to resist it. + +In drawing our conclusions from this spectacle of unwelcome equality +it is useful also to bear in mind the relation between the female and +the male populations of Western Europe. During the last half century +the excess of women in this country has, roughly speaking, doubled +in proportion to the total number of inhabitants of both sexes. The +effect of a fixed and constant inequality may be neutralized by a +series of adjustments in the social structure, but when the inequality +threatens to increase fourfold in the course of a century the pressure +it engenders is not so easily relieved. One of the most distressing +sights to be met with in Paris to-day is the large number of coloured +and mostly negroid males that is gradually being assimilated by the +white population. There are some even who predict that France will soon +have become a bi-coloured republic. Should this unpleasant prophecy +be realized, the present excess of white females will no doubt go a +long way to account for the change. Whether or not this excess has +done anything to stimulate the new movement in decoration it is, of +course, impossible to say with certainty, but our surmise receives +the strongest confirmation from the fact that in the United States +of America, alone among modern countries in this respect, the modern +decorative movement appears to be awakening no response at all. For in +that country alone the male population exceeds the female by a surplus +that is increasing at almost exactly the same rate as our own female +surplus is increasing. + +The new movement has been described as an enlargement of the art of +dress, an affinity which those who visited the 1925 Paris Exhibition +of Decorative Art will be ready enough to acknowledge. Among the +most skilful of the exponents of the movement is M. Maurice Dufrène, +and no one could wish for a more complete expression of its main +characteristics than his _Chambre de Dame_, shown at the 1925 +exhibition along with other apartments by the same artist. Wherever +one may turn in this room, one’s eye rests upon long sinuous curves +whose rise and fall is as the billowing of an exquisite garment. The +richness and amplitude of its lines recall nothing so much as the +famous liquefaction that the silk frock of Herrick’s Julia would +undergo, more particularly while the poet watched her in the act of +walking. The dressing-table undulates round its absent mistress with +a softness of movement that causes one to think of a fur or a cloak, +while in the distance, framed in a background of streaming silver, +the bed rolls lazily like a magic carpet suspended on the breeze. The +cushions and lampshades have the appearance of intimate garments too +pertly displayed. From an elongated hollow in the ceiling, fringed +with curling foam, a golden light descends with studied moderation +upon the skin of a giant polar bear, the canine adjunct enlarged and +architecturalized, its muzzle caught in the loops of a heavy rope +of silver. Everybody said the room was a distinguished success, and +this, in so far as it served to enhance a brilliant though imaginary +personality, it indubitably was. + +The chief manifestation of the new movement, however, lies not so much +in its forms as in the teguments wherein those forms are clothed. They +are invariably of the greatest succulence. Soft, smooth, evenly or +sharply luminous, they answer one another like the modulated textures +of the dressmaker’s products. Even metallic surfaces are made to play +their dull or glittering part in the combination, for there is nothing, +as Baudelaire wrote in one of his poems, that provides so telling a +foil to the warmth of woven materials as “l’énivrante monotonie du +métal, du marbre et de l’eau.” It is only fit, therefore, that among +the most successful of all these designers should be the metalworker +Edgar Brandt, whose fame has securely established itself even on the +other shore of the Atlantic. To infuse with profound feminine charm +the design of a metal grille or an ornamental chandelier may appear +difficult, but this is what M. Edgar Brandt has succeeded in doing; +nor could we ask for a more striking testimony to the strength and +singleness of the impulse from which this modern movement in decoration +derives than we may find in his triumphant enlistment of such unlikely +aids as these. The proper place and function of his work, of which +I will not attempt a detailed description, is as unmistakable as the +work itself. Only the other day a candidate for an academic prize in +architecture introduced an imitation of it into a design for a bank +building. Of course, he had to be rebuked on behalf of the prize +committee, happily through the person of that witty and scholarly +critic, Mr. H. S. Goodhart-Rendel. The particular manner of design +he had chosen, the designer was told, should be confined to “the +surroundings of beautiful and expensive women.” Its nature could not +have been more succinctly defined. + +Such, then, are, to the best of my belief, the most important forces +at work in architecture to-day. Without doubt these forces will drive +the architecture of to-morrow into a mould that is much like the one +I have here attempted to describe. Are any new currents likely to +manifest themselves, adding their influence to that of the currents +with which we are already familiar? Few men living to-day are so bold +that they would care to prophesy without some visible omen to justify +their words. Our ideas about progress and the future have themselves +shrunk somewhat; they have become more modest than they were. To the +nineteenth-century European, whose faith was so miraculously fortified +by the discovery of natural selection, these things had grown to be the +first and greatest realities of human existence. Progress was to him a +pleasing and uninterrupted enlargement of his worldly self, a direct +and positive increase of comfort, power, and general importance. As for +the future, the element of variability, of possible differentiation, +that was contained in it seemed about as great as the growth of a +crystal might show in a constantly replenished solution. Even to-day +there are some men living who (like that most eloquent of worshippers +at the favourite Victorian shrine, Mr. H. G. Wells) still look forward +to a continued expansion of the social organism, an unbroken if less +unvarying accession of prosperity and power. But it is becoming only +too clear that the band of orthodox believers is rapidly dwindling; +already in some places the object of their worship is openly blasphemed +against. We are told that the growth of an industrial society must +necessarily be limited in extent――nay, that it must even be of limited +duration. It is argued with depressing force that the opening-up of +markets is like everything else in this world, and can only continue +so long as there are markets to open up. Every day the future of our +urbanized civilization appears wrapped in a darker cloud. Every day +it becomes more uncertain how long Balbus will continue to build even +in fulfilment of needs that exist here and now. The modern amorphous +building, the “zoning” of volume and outline, the labour-saving +residence, the subservience of the new decoration to feminine dress: +all these spring from forces that exist to-day and that must continue +for some time longer provided civilization is able to maintain itself +in its present form. More than this it is impossible to foretell, +except one thing only, with an inadequate reference to which I must +bring this essay to an end. + +It has been observed how the growth of population of our towns is +even now being followed by the architectural expansion which is the +somewhat retarded concomitant of such a growth. This growth, however, +is slowing down and, it may be, gradually subsiding. We continue to +build, but the tenants of the buildings we put up will before long +have ceased to multiply. We have rediscovered the first principles of +the forgotten art of town-planning, but only at a time when our towns +are becoming almost adequate to the needs of their populations. One +of the most momentous chapters in the history of humanity is thus +about to be closed, and it is surely permissible at such a moment to +speculate awhile on what will succeed it. What is to follow the great +age of city-building, whose ironic fate it was to discern the laws +that should have governed its activities when it was too late to obey +these laws except on a point of secondary importance, being then able +to obey only under penalty of death? Are we to meet, after failing +to grasp the illusive opportunities of town-planning, with new, and +real, and unexhausted opportunities of country-planning? I have not +in this essay attempted a detailed description of the growth of our +towns, which is a thing of the present and the past, but have confined +myself to certain things that must happen within the boundaries of +these towns before many more years have elapsed. And though it is +too early as yet to speak with any particularity of the repopulation +of the countryside, it is clear that no discussion of the future can +claim to be even approximately just if it does not bear witness to this +new phase in the history of building. Following unobtrusively upon +a lengthy procession of works on town-planning, the first treatise +on country-planning has recently made its appearance. Though only a +pamphlet of modest dimensions, it is fairly certain that the outward +growth it heralds will not be less important than the centripetal one +which is even now being arrested, for the exodus from the city has +hardly begun to-day, and the architecture of the countryside still +requires to pass beyond the experimental stage and assume some measure +of permanence. But when rural England has grown thus far, we may rest +assured that its permanence and stability will exceed all that the city +at any time possessed, and in this manner will come to pass what was +prophesied to the Roman philosopher Ædesius who, it will be recalled, +awoke one morning and saw that the back of his left hand was covered +with writing. “After reverently saluting his hand and the letters,” so +the story goes, “he found that the following oracle was written on his +hand: ‘On the warp of the two Fates’ spinning lie the threads of thy +life’s web. If thy choice is the cities and towns of men, thy renown +shall be deathless, shepherding the god-given impulse of youth. But +if thou shalt be the shepherd of sheep and bulls, then hope that thou +thyself shalt be the associate of the blessed immortals.’” Thus speaks +the divine portent of the future of architecture also, and to whom +except the architect skilled in country-planning, the architect of +to-morrow, could it be said (as it was said of Ædesius and his pupils) +that “when they spread their wings further than those of Icarus, though +they were even more fragile, he would lead them gently down, not into +the sea, but to the land and to human life”? + + + * * * * * + + + Transcriber’s Notes: + + ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). + + ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. + + ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. + + ――The Publisher’s Catalog for the _To-day and To-morrow_ series, + referred to in the front matter above, was not contained in the + source material. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75202 *** |