Though the arrangement of the landscape might be French, these flowers
were unmistakably Californian. The two pools, ornamented with the Arthur
Putnam fountain of the mermaid, in duplicate, decidedly French in
feeling, were brilliant with the reflected coloring from both the
flowers and the buildings.
The intention at first had been to make a sunken garden here; but the
underground construction had interfered. Now one might catch a
suggestion of Versailles, except for those lamp posts. "Joseph Pennell,
the American etcher, who has traveled all over Europe making drawings,
finds a suggestion of two great Spanish gardens here, one connected with
the royal palace of La Granga, near Madrid, and the other with the royal
palace of Aranjuez, near Toledo. They've allowed the flowers to be the
most conspicuous feature, the dominating note, which is as it should be.
Masses of flowers are always beautiful and they are never more beautiful
than when they are of one color."
"And masses of shrubbery are always beautiful, too,", I said, nodding in
the direction of the Palace of Horticulture, where McLaren had done some
of his best work.
"There's no color in the world like green, particularly dark green, for
richness and poetry and mystery. It's intimately related to shadow,
which does so much for beauty in the world."
"The Fountain of Energy almost hits you in the face, doesn't it?" I
said.
"Of course. That's exactly what Calder meant to do. In a way he was
right. He wanted to express in sculpture the idea of tremendous force.
Now his work is an ideal example of what is expositional. It has a
sensational appeal. One objection to it is that it suggests too much
energy, too much effort on the part, not only of the subject, but of the
sculptor. The artist ought never to seem to try. His work ought to make
you feel that it was easy for him to do. But here you feel that the
sculptor clenched his teeth and worked with might and main. As a matter
of fact, he did this piece when he must have been tired out from
managing all the sculpture on the grounds. He made two designs. The
first one, which was not used, seemed to me better because it was
simpler in the treatment of the base. Even the figures at the base here
are over-energized, the human figures I mean. Still, in their
sportiveness and in the sportiveness of Roth's animals, they have a
certain charm. And with the streams spouting, the work as a whole makes
an impression of liveliness. But it's a nervous liveliness,
characteristically American, not altogether healthy."
The Fountain of Energy and the Tower of Jewels, we decided, both
expressed the same kind of imagination. Like the fountain, the tower
gave the sense of overstrain. "It's pretty hard to see any architectural
relation between those figures up there on the tower and the tower
itself. See how the mass tries to dominate Kelham's four Italian towers,
but without showing any real superiority."
The heraldic shields on the lamp posts near by attracted us both by
their color and by the variety and grace of their designs. How many
visitors stopped to consider their historic character? They went back to
the early history of the Pacific Coast. For this contribution alone
Walter D'Arcy Ryan deserved the highest recognition. Only an artist
could have worked out this scheme in just this sensitive and appropriate
way.
We stopped at the vigorous equestrian statue of Cortez by Charles
Niehaus at our right, close to the tower. "I always liked Cortez for his
nerve. He didn't get much gratitude from his Emperor for conquering
Mexico and annexing it to Spain. And what he got in glory and in money
probably did not compensate him for his disappointment at the end. When
he couldn't reach Charles V in any other way, he jumped up on the royal
carriage. Charles didn't recognize him and asked who he was. 'I'm the
man,' said Cortez, 'that gave you more provinces than your forebears
left you cities.' Naturally Charles was annoyed. We don't like to be
reminded of ingratitude, do we, especially by the people who think we
ought to be grateful to them? So Cortez quit the court and spent the
rest of his life in the country."
At our right we met another of the many Spanish adventurers drawn to the
Americas by the discovery of Columbus, Pizarro, who presented his
country with the rich land of Peru. It was doubtless placed here on
account of the relation between Spain and California. "Civilization is a
development through blood and spoilation," the architect remarked. "If
Pizarro hadn't been lured by the gold of the Incas we might not be here
at this moment."
The figures on the tower, insignificant when viewed from a distance, at
close range took on vigor: the philosopher in his robes, the bearer of
European culture of the sixteenth century to these shores; the Spanish
priest, typical of the early friars; the adventurer, so closely related
to Columbus; and the Spanish soldier. The armored horseman, by Tonetti,
in a row all by himself, suffering from being rather absurdly out of
place, might have won applause if he had been brought on a pedestal
close to the ground. His being repeated so often up there made an effect
almost comic. The vases and the triremes, the pieces of armor, with the
battle-axe designs on either side, the Cleopatra's needles, and the
richly-girdled globe on top, sustained on the shoulders of three
figures, were all well done. The only trouble was that they had not been
made to blend into one lightly soaring mass.
"It's curious that Hastings should have gone astray in the treatment of
the tower. He must have known the psychological effect of parallel
horizontal lines. When skyscrapers were first built in New York a few
years ago they were considered unsightly on account of their great
height. So the architects were careful to use parallel horizontal lines
in order to diminish the apparent height as far as possible. Then people
began to say that there was beauty in the sky-scrapers, and the
architects changed their policy. They built in straight parallel lines
that shot up to the sky. In this way they increased the apparent
height."
The inscriptions on the south side of the tower's base reminded us of
the Exposition's meaning, Conspicuously and properly emphasized here.
The pagan note in the architecture was indicated in the ornamentation by
the use in the design of the head of the sacred bull. And Triumphant
America was celebrated in the group of eagles.
The dark stains on the yellow columns made us see how clever Guerin had
been in his application of the coloring. In most places he had applied
one coat only, trusting to nature to do the rest. Most of all, he wished
to avoid the appearance of newness and to secure a look of age. On these
columns the smoke from the steam rollers had helped out. One might
imagine that they had been here for generations.
Here the builders had used the Corinthian column, with the acanthus
leaves varied with fruit-designs and with the human figure. "It was a
lucky day for architecture when the column came into use. It doubtless
got its start from a single beam used for support. Then the notion
developed of making it ornamental by fluting it and decorating the top.
In this Exposition three kinds of columns are used, the Doric, which the
Greeks favored, with the very simple top or capital; the Ionic, with the
spiral scroll for the capital, and the Corinthian, with the acanthus
flowing over the top, and the Composite which uses features from all the
other three."
"Do you happen to know how the acanthus design was made? Well, Vitruvius
tells the story. Anyone that wants to get a line on this Exposition
ought to read that book, or, at any rate, to glance through it and to
read parts of it pretty thoroughly. It is called 'The Architecture of
Marcus Vitruvius Pollio.' There's a good translation from the Latin by
Joseph Gwilt. It has become the architect's bible. According to
Vitruvius, the nurse of Corinthian girl who had died carried to the
girl's tomb basket filled with the things that the girl had particularly
liked. She left the basket on the ground near the tomb and covered it
with a tile. It happened that it stood over the root of an acanthus
plant. As the plant grew its foliage pressed up around the basket and
when it reached the tile the leaves were forced to bang back in graceful
curves. Callimachus, a Corinthian architect, noticed the effect and put
it into use."