A certain Government office having a more than usual need of some new
ideas, and wishing to obtain them from the collective mind of the
country, consulted Mr. Trappem, the official solicitor—a gentleman of
great experience—on the subject. “A new idea,” said he, “is not the only
thing you will want; these new ideas, to be worth anything, must be
reduced to practical demonstration, by models, plans, or experiments.
This will cost much time, labour, and money, and be attended through its
progress with many disappointments. The rule, therefore, is to _throw it
open_ to the public. Let the inventive spirits of the whole public be
set to work; let them make the calculations, designs, models, plans; let
them try all the experiments at their own expense; let them all be
encouraged to proceed by those suggestions which are sure to excite the
greatest hopes and the utmost emulation, without committing the
Honourable Board to anything. When at length two or three succeed, then
the Honourable Board steps in, and taking a bit from one, and a bit from
another, but the whole, or chief part, from no one in a direct way,
rejects them all individually and collectively, and escapes all claims
and contingencies. A few compliments, enough to keep alive hope, and at
the same time keep the best men quiet, should finally be held out, and
the competitors may then be safely left to long delays and the course of
events. That’s the way.”
Too true, Mr. Trappem—that _is_ the way; and many a Government office,
or other imposing array of Committee-men, and Honourable Boards, have
practised this same expedient upon the inventive genius and collective
knowledge and talent of the public. The last instances which deserve to
be recorded, not merely because they are the most recent, but rather on
account of their magnitude and completeness, are the invitations to
competitors for models and plans, issued by the Metropolitan
Commissioners of Sewers,—and by the Commissioners of the Exhibition of
Industry of all Nations.
In order to supersede prevaricating denials and evasions of what we have
to say concerning the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers, it may be as
well to premise that they have for some time adopted the cunning “fence”
of a “_Committee_ of Commissioners,” behind which the Commissioners make
a dodge on all difficult, alarming, and responsible occasions. When all
is safe, and clear, and sunshiny, it is the Commissioners who have done
the thing; directly matters look awkward, and a bad business, the
diplomatic bo-peeps leap away from the bursting clouds—and the Committee
of Commissioners have done it all, for which the main body of the Right
Honourable Board is by no means responsible. A similar manœuvre has been
adopted by the Commissioners of the Exhibition of Industry, who have got
two Committees to screen them.
Now, in the name of all worthily striving spirits,—of all those who have
devoted their talents, time, and money to the production of models,
designs, or plans,—of all those who have laboured hard by day or by
night, perhaps amidst other arduous and necessary avocations,—in the
name of all those, who, possessing real knowledge and skill, have
naturally and inevitably been led to indulge in high hopes, if not of
entire success, at least of fair play and of some advantage to
themselves in reward, remuneration for reasonable and necessary expenses
incurred, or, at any rate, in receiving honourable mention,—and,
finally, in the name of common justice, we do most loudly and earnestly
protest against all these and similar appeals to the collective
intellect of the public, unless conducted upon some liberal and definite
method of compensation for all eminently meritorious labours.
That one great prize—either as a substantial tribute, or in the
exclusive adoption of an entire plan—should be awarded to one man, and
that the half-dozen next to him in merit, perhaps equal or superior,
should derive no benefit at all, is manifestly a most clumsy and unjust
arrangement. But when we find great appeals to the public, nobly
answered, and yet _no one_ work selected as the work desired,—no one
rewarded—but every one _used_ and got rid of—then, indeed, we see an
abuse of that kind which ought to be most fully exposed, so that it may
serve as a warning in future “to all whom it may concern.”
It is curious to observe how much more quickly some nations, as well as
individuals, take a hint than others. Among the models and plans sent in
answer to the public invitation of the Commissioners of the Exhibition
of Industry, there are a great many, and of a most excellent kind, from
our sprightly and sanguine friends, the French—while, notwithstanding
the chief originator and patron is from the _Faderland_, not one of
those who are more especially distinguished as entitled to the highest
honours, is from Germany! Out of the eighteen names thus selected, no
less than twelve are Frenchmen; four are English; one Austrian; and a
solitary Dutchman. In all Prussia, there was not found one man to
venture. It would seem as though they were aware of these tricks. But
how is it that so few of our own countrymen are thus distinguished and
complimented? Is it because they are deficient in the requisite talent,
or do they not take sufficient interest in the matter? Surely neither of
these reasons will be satisfactory to account for the fact of our native
architects and designers having been so palpably beaten at this first
trial of skill. We shall probably be told that the best men of France
have entered the lists in this competition; whereas our best men have
stood aloof. Why is this? May it not be that “old birds are not caught
with chaff?” Our best men are generally well employed, and it is not
worth their while to waste their time in competitions which almost
invariably end in so unsatisfactory a manner. The same thing occurred,
and may be answered in the same way, with regard to the hundred and
sixty or seventy Plans sent in for the Drainage of London. Our most
eminent civil engineers stood aloof. A few very able men, it is true,
entered into the contest with enthusiasm, at great expense of time,
labour, and money, (one of them, Mr. J. B. M‘Clean, spent nearly 500_l._
in surveys, &c.) but very few of them will ever do this again. Out of
the two hundred and forty-five competitors who have sent designs and
plans, in reply to the equally vague and formal invitation of the
Commissioners of the Exhibition of 1851, not a single name of the
hundred and sixty or seventy engineers, surveyors, architects, builders,
&c., who sent in designs for the Drainage of London, is to be found
either in List A, or List B, of those whom the Commissioners of the
Exhibition have mentioned as entitled to honorary distinction. They
were, no doubt, very thoroughly sickened by the previous affair.
We have said that, at the very least, those who have sent in excellent
designs should receive honourable mention. This is liberally bestowed by
the Commissioners of the Exhibition on eighteen individuals; but that is
not sufficient. Neither is the longer list of names, thus honoured,
perfectly just, inasmuch as it excludes many whose plans display very
great merit. As for the Commissioners of Sewers, the report they issued
concerning the plans sent to them, was meagre and mean to the last
degree. Its timidity at a just and decent compliment, absolutely
amounted to the ludicrous. If they thanked anybody at all, the thanks
seemed warily pushed towards the parties by the Solicitor of the
Commission at the end of a long pole. They had not even a word of
commendation to offer to two or three men who had sent in designs of the
most comprehensive and original character,—designs which were, at least,
as practicable as any of the “tunnel schemes,” or others which they
ventured, in their caustic way, to applaud. We would more especially
mention the plans of Mr. Richard Dover, Mr. John Martin, Mr. John Sutton
(_The Margin Sewer_), Mr. Jasper Rogers, Mr. William H. Smith (_Second
Series_), and the one signed “_Nunc aut Nunquam_,” which latter, for
grandeur of conception, equals the very greatest works of ancient and
modern times. Placed beside such unmannerly treatment as this, and
comparing the two reports, that of the Commissioners of the Exhibition
reads like the production of gentlemen and scholars, beside the
penurious reservations and dryness of the Commissioners of Sewers.
With regard, however, to the great superiority of foreign artists over
our own in the present matter of competition, and our utter defeat in
the first trial of the respective strength of Nations, some very
excellent remarks have been put forth by the “Athenæum.” “Let us see,”
says the writer, “if the men who did come up to this architectural
battle have been fairly dealt with. It is essential to the integrity of
a combat that it should be fought with the weapon prescribed. If one of
two combatants bring a sword double the length of his adversary’s, or a
rifle to his rival’s pistol, we should scarcely hold that the defeat of
the latter is proof that he is inferior in fence or in aim.” This is
closely and fairly put. The answer must be, that our artists have _not_
been fairly beaten. The advertisement of the Committee requested
“information and suggestions” on the general form of the building in
plan, &c., and they laid down rules and regulations to which “they
earnestly requested the contributors to conform,” declaring that they
would not recognise any plans which were “sent in a form inconsistent
with these rules.” They were clearly defined. For instance—they directed
that the communications must consist of a single sheet of paper of given
dimensions; that the drawing should be a simple ground-plan, also of
limited dimensions; and that it should _only_ contain “such elevations
and sections of the building, on the same sheet, as might be necessary
to elucidate the system proposed.” Surely all this is clear enough.
Let us now see how some of the most successful of the competitors have
attended to these conditions on which they were to enter the arena.
What extensive pleasure-grounds are those?—and adorned with such
architectural displays? They are the work of Monsieur Cailloux. But, a
little further on, we behold pleasure-grounds and architectural
structures yet more ornate and refined. They are from the hand of
Monsieur Charpentier. Further on, another, by Monsieur Cleemputte; and
another by Monsieur Gaulle—a complicated work of thoughtful elaboration.
Yet even these are destined to be surpassed by the luxurious fancies of
other artists.
So far from denying or doubting that many of these designs are
beautiful, we close our eyes, and see in imagination the exquisite
magnificence of the structures, into which no coarse and profane hands
should dare to wheel or carry rude raw materials of any kind; there,
everything must be finished to the highest degree of polished art and
refined taste. Also, no lumbering pieces of machinery or mechanism must
risk doing injury to the walls, and pillars, and profusion of glass—no
uncouth agricultural implements, or other tools of horny-handed
Industry. Hither, let no enthusiasts in smoke-jacks, patent capstans,
door-hinges, dock-gates, double-barred gridirons, humane
chimney-sweeping apparatuses, peat-charcoal, bachelor’s broilers,
fire-annihilators, patent filters, portable kitchens, or electric
telegraphs, dare to send their uncouth machinery and compounds; but only
such things as are delicate of texture, rainbow-coloured, and exquisite
to the smell, while the visitors (none of whom will be admitted except
in full dress, and great numbers of whom will always appear in court
dresses) perambulate about, gazing now on this side, and now on that, to
the sound of the seraphine and Moorish flutes.
Let us awake from this charming vision; but it was natural to fall into
it on such suggestions. Again we are in danger. For who can contemplate
the elegant originality of Monsieur Jacquet (No. 25) without emotion, or
a “wish to be there?” His ground-plan resembles a section of some
enormous fan-light of painted glass, or like part of a gigantic Oriental
fan, made of the plumes of some fabulous peacock. Nor must we pass over
the suggestion of our countrymen, Messrs. Felix and White (No. 72),
because they are not equally imaginative, for they certainly manifest
very much and excellent thought in their architectural display; though,
like our foreign friends, no thought at all of the cost of such a work.
The same may be said of the beautiful pleasure-grounds designed by Mr.
Reilly (No. 102), with circular, oval, and serpentine garden-plots,
flower-beds, and shrubberies, and labyrinthine walks or covered ways of
glass.
But there are more—yet more of these delightful and deliberate
violations of the terms on which competitors were to enter the lists—one
vieing with another, not in producing the most excellently useful and
economical structure for the purpose required, but the most perfect
exhibition of the artist’s especial taste, “regardless of expense.” Yes,
there are more of these deserving notice. One competitor—nay, three of
them—propose that the entire building should be made of iron, domes and
towers inclusive; another, that it shall be all made of glass, such as
we might find in an Arabian Nights’ Tale. Monsieur Soyer, the mighty
cook (No. 165), begins the synopsis of his design by proposing to take
up, and remove the great marble arch from Buckingham Palace, as though
it were a “trifle,” and serve it up for a grand entrance opposite the
Prince of Wales’s Gate. Here, also, is a structure which arrests the
attention even amidst the surrounding wonders, and appears to be several
conservatories and libraries on a colossal scale of glass frame-work,
delightfully intermingled with domes and turrets, and observatories,
with here and there minarets and pagodas, of the delicious character
presented by those fragile structures which make such a tempting figure
on the festive board, standing erect among the dessert-plates. Yet, once
more, behold the prodigal laying out of palace-gardens, not to speak of
the ante-industrial palace itself (which reminds one of Thomson’s
“Castle of Indolence”), gardens with alcoves and aviaries, and
fountains, glass temples, green labyrinths, flower-beds and
flower-stands, vases and _jets-d’eaux_, sculpture, shrubberies, shaded
lovers’ walks, public promenades, with lords and ladies and princes and
princesses, of all nations, sauntering about, and the clouds and sky of
an Italian sunset lighting up and colouring the whole. For this, and
similar _chateaux_, we are quite at a loss to conjecture the principle
on which they present themselves on this occasion; but we have no doubt
that they all belong to that munificent patron of art, and great landed
proprietor, the Marquis of Carrabas.
Now, that our own architects are able to compete successfully with the
best of our foreign friends in works of imaginative design, we do not
affirm; neither, for the reasons previously adduced by the “Athenæum,”
do we consider ourselves justified in denying it, from the result of the
present struggle. But for our own artists and others, who have confined
themselves to the terms and preliminaries announced by the
Commissioners, have they succeeded?—that is the question. Not
satisfactorily, we think. Our architects are, for the most part,
impracticable, from the expense required, and the wilful forgetfulness
that the building is to be of a temporary character; while our surveyors
and builders have been thinking too much of railway-stations, not of
that sober, simple, and sufficient kind which the occasion requires, but
(according to the error in these stations) of that large, ornate, and
redundant kind which is meant to be admired as much as used, and also to
last for ages. This latter mistake is very characteristic of our
countrymen. They do not feel, nor comprehend, the act of knocking up a
temporary structure; they are always for something that will endure.
In certain matters requiring great skill and many forethoughts, most of
these plans are not very successful. For instance, the prevention of
terrible confusion and danger in the constant arrivals and departures of
visitors—carriages, vehicles of all sorts, horsemen, and shoals of
pedestrians. This relates to the approaches and entrances outside; and
the position and approaches of the exit-doors inside; also, the best
means of directing and managing the currents of visitors within. It
seems pretty clear that everybody must not be allowed to follow his “own
sweet will” in all respects, or there will be many a deadlock, and
perhaps a deadly struggle, with all the usual disastrous consequences.
Many of the plans seek to direct the current of visitors (indicated by
shoals of little arrows with their heads pointing the same way) not so
much for the convenience and freedom of the public, as in accordance
with the architectural points to be displayed. Others appear to intend
that the direction of the current shall be forced by the pressure from
the column constantly advancing behind. This might be dangerous. The
current might surely be managed so as to combine direction on a large
scale with a considerable amount of individual freedom; and, in any
case, the amount of pressure from the masses behind should be regulated
by sectional barriers.
How to find your way out? This may be a question well worth
consideration. Of course there will be a sufficient number of
exit-doors; but if you have to walk and struggle through several miles
of bazaar-counters or winding ways, amidst dense crowds, before you can
discover a means of egress, your amount of pleasure is not likely to
induce a second visit. Mr. Brandon for instance (No. 207), has beautiful
domed temples and libraries (so they appear) or other “glass cases,”
while the ground-plan presents a series of circuitous batches of stalls,
or bazaar-counters, not unlike large circles of sheep-pens, except that
there is a free passage between them. Hence, the currents, or rather,
the “rapids,” of visitors must inevitably be going and coming, and
jostling, and conflicting; and others arriving at a dead stand, and
having no chance of progression, or retreat, without a “trial of
strength,”—the whole producing of necessity an inextricable maze and
confusion, with an impossibility for a long time of finding a way out,
even when able to move.
This question of the current of visitors, and of movement in general, is
ingeniously settled by one gentleman, who proposes to have a railway
along the grand central line, for the conveyance up and down of all
sorts of goods and articles, heavy or light. We presume that the
progress of the carriages and trucks would be very slow, so that the
visitors, when fatigued, might, at their pleasure, step up to a seat,
and be quietly conveyed along to any part of the line. This notion has,
of course, been laughed at, and we confess to having amused ourselves
considerably with the “train” of thought induced by it; but we are not
sure, in the present state of mechanical science, whether something very
commodious might not result from a modification of the idea. The fares,
if any (and we think there should be a trifle paid to check reckless
crowding), should not exceed a penny. The inventor will thus perceive
that, if we have laughed, we have also sympathised, and are quite ready
to get up and have a ride. One gentleman (Mr. C. H. Smith) proposes to
erect three octagonal vestibules, communicating with all principal
compartments; the roof to be upheld by suspension chains. Cast-iron
frames are to hold rough glass, laid in plates lapping over each other,
like tiles. This is certainly a sensible provision against a hail-storm,
which has occurred to no one else, amidst their prodigalities in glass.
But, amidst all these wonders of 1851, are there no plain, simple,
practical plans sent in? There are a good many. Some of these are
certainly not very attractive, presenting, as they do, the appearance of
a superior kind of barracks, hospitals, alms-houses, nursery-grounds;
and one of these plans is laid out entirely like a series of
cucumber-frames, with shifting lights at top. There are, however,
several of these sober designs which possess great practical merit, and
have preserved a due consideration of the terms on which the competition
was proposed. Of these, the Commissioners and Committees have availed
themselves in all respects suited to their own views and wishes; and out
of all these, combined with their own especial fancies, they seem likely
to produce an interminable range of cast-iron cow-sheds, having (as a
specimen of the present high state of constructive genius) an enormous
slop-basin, of iron frame-work, inverted in the centre, as an attraction
for the admiring eyes of all the nations.
But other problems have to be solved. The classification and arrangement
of the raw materials, the manufactured articles, the machinery, and the
works of plastic art, is a question of very great importance. It not
only involves the things themselves, but their respective countries.
Should the productions of each country be kept separate? This appears
the natural arrangement, or how should any one make a study of the
powers of any special country. Prince Albert, it seems, wishes
otherwise. He thinks that a fusion of the productions of all nations
will be more in accordance with the broad general principle of the
Exhibition—more tending to amalgamate and fraternise one country with
another. This feeling is excellent; but we fear it would cause an utter
confusion, and amidst the heterogeneous masses, nobody would be able to
make a study of the productions of any particular nation. An eminent
civil engineer suggests that the productions of the respective countries
should be ranged together from side to side of the entire width of the
edifice—thus you can at once see the works of industry of England,
France, Germany, America, Switzerland, &c., &c., by walking up and down
from one side to the other; and you can obtain a collective view of the
works of all these countries by walking longitudinally, or from end to
end of the building. To some such classification and arrangement as
this, we think, the Committee will be compelled to have recourse at
last.
The other problem to which we adverted, is one which is not so liable to
be solved as saturated with hot water, and then dragged from one quarter
of the metropolis to another before it is settled by some arbitrary
decision. We allude to the spot on which the buildings of the Exhibition
are to be erected. Hyde Park is not unlikely to be a subject of much
contest. The latent idea of preserving the most important part of the
“temporary” structure has alarmed all the drivers and riders in Hyde
Park, and all those whose windows overlook it. And no wonder;—to say
nothing of the crowds and stoppages outside the park, and the slough
within, produced by the enormous traffic of heavy wheels, long before
the Exhibition opens. Battersea Fields was next mentioned, and thought
advantageous, not only from the open space they present, but the
facilities of water-conveyance for goods and passengers. Still, the
distance is rather against such a choice. It would probably reduce the
number of times each visitor would go to the Exhibition, and,
consequently, be a check upon the money taken at the doors. Hundreds of
thousands flock daily to Greenwich during the Fair; but the argument
will not hold good, in all respects, as regards the present question.
Regent’s Park has been named as more appropriate; but there is a strong
and manifest objection to any interference with that much-used place of
public recreation. To cut up its green turf, and gravelled roads, would
be even more monstrous than any spoliation of Hyde Park. No locality
could be selected, perhaps, for such a purpose that would be perfectly
free from all objections. Still we are so convinced of the multitude of
inconveniences inevitably attendant on such an Exhibition in the midst
of the metropolis—and we feel so strongly the cool, high-handed
injustice of parcelling out the public property at Court, and stopping
up the public breathing-places, for any purpose—that we urge its removal
to some spot out of the town, easily accessible both by railway and
river.
“I WOULD NOT HAVE THEE YOUNG AGAIN.”
I would not have thee young again
Since I myself am old;
Not that thy youth was ever vain,
Or that my age is cold;
But when upon thy gentle face
I see the shades of time,
A thousand memories replace
The beauties of thy prime.
Though from thine eyes of softest blue
Some light hath passed away,
Love looketh forth as warm and true
As on our bridal day.
I hear thy song, and though in part
’Tis fainter in its tone,
I heed it not, for still thy heart
Seems singing to my own.