Part 4

"Faville designed a magnificent entrance here," the architect went on, glancing up at the three modest arches that McLaren had tried to make as attractive as possible with his hedge. "It would have been very appropriate. But the need of keeping down expenses caused the idea to be sacrificed. However, the loss was not serious. As a matter of fact, in spite of the efforts of the Exposition to persuade visitors to come in here, a great many preferred to enter by the Fillmore Street gate. During the day this approach is decidedly the more attractive on account of leading directly into the gardens and into the approach to the court. The Fillmore Street entrance, with the Zone shrieking at you at one side, hardly puts you in the mood for the beauty in the courts. At night the situation is somewhat different. The flaring lights of the Zone make the dimness of the court all the more attractive."

III

In the South Gardens

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."

IV

Under the Tower of Jewels

When we entered the arch we looked up at the magnificent ceiling used by McKim, Mead & White, in panels, with a pictorial design beautifully colored by Guerin. "The blue up there blends into the deeper blue of the Dodge murals just beneath. Those murals are in exactly the right tone. They give strength to the arch. But they are weakened by being in the midst of so much heavy architecture. Their subjects, however, are in harmony with the meaning of the tower. Guerin was right when he told the mural decorators that a good subject was an asset. By studying these murals you can get a glimpse of all the history associated with California and with the Panama Canal. Dodge has made drama out of Balboa's discovery of Panama and out of the union of the two oceans, a theme worthy of a great poet. And Dodge is one of the few men represented in the art on the grounds who have made pictorial use of machinery. There's the discovery by Balboa, the purchase by the United States, the presentation of the problem of uniting the two oceans, very imaginative and pictorial, the completion of the Canal, and the crowning of labor, with the symbolic representation of the resulting feats of commerce suggested by the want of the winged Mercury. Dodge is dramatic without being too individual. His murals don't call the attention away from their surroundings to themselves. They are a part of the architecture, as murals always should be."

On either side we found the columned niches designed by McKim, Mead and White, each ornamented with a fountain. The back wall made a splendid effect as it reached up toward the tower.

To the right we turned to view Mrs. Edith Woodman Burroughs' "Fountain of Youth," lovely in the girlish beauty of the central figure, and in the simplicity and the sincerity of the design as a whole. In some ways the figure reminded us of the celebrated painting by Ingres in the Louvre, "The Source," the nude girl bearing a jug on her shoulder, sending out a stream of water. There was no suggestion of imitation, however.

"The symbolism in the design," said the architect, "does not thrust itself on you, and yet it is plain enough. That woman and man pushing up flowers at the feet of the girl make a beautiful conception. The whole fountain has an ingenuousness that is in key with the subject. Across the way," he went on, turning to view the Fountain of El Dorado, by Mrs. Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney, "there's a piece of work much more sophisticated and dramatic, fine in its conception and strong in handling. No one would say offhand that it was the work of a woman; and yet it shows none of the overstrain that sometimes characterizes a woman artist when she wishes her work to seem masculine."

In approaching the "El Dorado" we noted the skill shown in the details of the conception. "This fountain might have been called 'The Land of Gold,' in plain English, or 'The Struggle for Happiness,' or by any other name that suggested competition for what people valued as the prizes of life. When Mrs. Whitney was asked to explain whether those trees in the background represented the tree of life, she said she didn't have any such idea in her mind. What she probably wanted to do was to present an imaginative scene that each observer could interpret for himself. These two Egyptian-looking guardians at the doors, with the figures kneeling by them, suggest plainly enough the futility that goes with so much of our struggling in the world. So often people reach the edge of their goal without really getting what they want."

V

The Court of the Universe

Through the arch we passed into the neck of the Court of the Universe, which charmed us by the warmth of its coloring, by McLaren's treatment of the sunken garden, by its shape, by the use of the dark pointed cypress trees against the walls, and by the sweep of view across the great court to the Marina, broken, however, by the picturesque and inharmonious Arabic bandstand. We glanced at the inscriptions at the base of the tower carrying on the history of the Canal to its completion. Then we stopped before those graceful little elephants bearing Guerin's tall poles with their streamers. "That little fellow is a gem in his way. He comes from Rome. But the heavy pole on his back is almost too much for him. He's used pretty often on the grounds, but not too often. After the Exposition is over we ought to keep these figures for the Civic Center. They would be very ornamental in the heart of the city."

As we walked toward the main court, the architect called my attention to the view between the columns on the other side of the Tower of Jewels, with the houses of the city running down the hills. "San Francisco architecture may not be beautiful when you study individual houses. But in mass it is fine. And, of a late afternoon, it is particularly good in coloring. It seems to be enveloped in a rich purple haze. That color might have given the mural decorators a hint. It would have been effective in the midst of all this high-keyed architecture. It's easy here to imagine that you're in one of those ancient Hindu towns where the gates are closed at night. You almost expect to see camels and elephants."

What was most striking in the Court was its immensity. "Though it comes from Bernini's entrance court to St. Peter's in Rome, it is much bigger. There are those who think it's too big. But it justifies itself by its splendor. The use of the double row of columns is particularly happy. The double columns were greatly favored by the Romans. In St. Peter's Bernini used four in a row. And what could be finer than those two triumphal arches on either side, the Arch of the Rising Sun and the Arch of the Setting Sun, with their double use of symbolism, in suggesting the close relation between California and the Orient, as well as their geographical meaning? They are, of course, importations from Rome, the Arch of Constantine and the Arch of Titus all over again, with a rather daring use of windows with colored lattices to give them lightness and with colossal groups of almost startling proportions used in place of the Roman chariot or quadriga."

Originally, the intention had been to use here the name of the Court of Sun and Stars. Then it was changed to the Court of Honor, and finally to its present name, to suggest the international character of the Exposition.

Those two groups represented by far the most ambitious work done by the sculpture department. From designs by Calder, they were made by three sculptors, Calder, Roth and Lentelli. They presented problems that must have been both difficult and interesting to work out. First, they had to balance each other. What figure in the Pioneer group could balance the elephant that typified the Orient? Calder had the idea of using the prairie schooner, associated with the coming of the pioneers to California, drawn by great oxen.

The Oriental group doubtless shaped itself in picturesque outlines much more quickly than the sturdy, but more homely Americans of the earlier period. The Orientals displayed an Indian prince on the ornamented seat, and the Spirit of the East in the howdah, of his elephant, an Arab shiek on his Arabian horse, a negro slave bearing fruit on his head, an Egyptian on a camel carrying a Mohammedan standard, an Arab falconer with a bird, a Buddhist priest, or Lama, from Thibet, bearing his symbol of authority, a Mohammedan with his crescent, a second negro slave and a Mongolian on horseback.

The Nations of the West were grouped around that prairie wagon, drawn by two oxen. In the center stood the Mother of Tomorrow a typical American girl, roughly dressed, but with character as well as beauty in her face and figure. On top of the wagon knelt the symbolic figure of "Enterprise," with a white boy on one side and a colored boy on the other, "Heroes of Tomorrow." On the other side of the wagon stood typical figures, the French-Canadian trapper, the Alaska woman, bearing totem poles on her back, the American of Latin descent on his horse, bearing a standard, a German, an Italian, an American of English descent, a squaw with a papoose, and an Indian chief on his pony. The wagon was modelled on top of the arch. It was too large and bulky to be easily raised to that great height.

The architect was impressed by the boldness of the designs and to the spirit that had been put into them. "It's very seldom in the history of art that sculptors have had a chance to do decorative work on so big a scale. It must have been a hard job, getting the figures up there in pieces and putting them together. Some of the workers came near being blown off. Some of them lost their nerve and quit. I wonder, by the way, if that angel on top of the prairie wagon would be there if Saint Gaudens hadn't put an angel in his Sherman statue, and if he hadn't made an angel float over the negro soldiers in his Robert Gould Shaw monument in Boston. He liked that kind of symbolism. He must have got it from the mediaeval sculptors who worked under the inspiration of the Catholic Church."

Varying notes we found around the American group. Cleopatra's needle, used for ornamentation, suggested Egypt and the Nile. That crenellated parapet once belonged to military architecture: between those pieces that stood up, the merlons, in the embrasure, the Greek and Roman archers shot their arrows at the enemy and darted back behind the merlons for protection. In spite of its being purely ornamental it told its story just the same, and it expressed the spirit that still persisted in mankind. Nowadays it was even used on churches. But religion and war had always been associated. Besides, in an International Exposition it was to be expected that the art should be international. How many people, when they looked at Cleopatra's needle, knew how closely it was related to the newspapers and historical records of today? The Egyptians used to write on these monuments news and opinions of public affairs. The Romans had a similar custom in connection with their columns. On the column of Trajan they not only wrote of their victories, but they pictured victorious scenes in stone.

The little sprite that ran along the upper edge of the court in a row, the star-figure, impressed me as making an unfortunate contrast with the stern angel, repeated in front of each of the two arches. My criticism brought out the reply that it was beautiful in itself and had its place up there. "These accidental effects of association are sometimes good and sometimes they're not. Here I can't see that they make a jarring effect. In the first place, a Court of the Universe ought to express something of the incongruity in our life. Ideally, of course, it isn't good in art to represent a figure in a position that it's hard to maintain without discomfort. But here the outlines are purely decorative and don't suggest strain. In my judgment that figure is one of the greatest ornaments in the court. It gives just the right note."

The two fountains in the center of the sunken garden were gaily throwing their spray into the air. The boldness of the Tritons at the base represented a very different kind of handling from the delicacy of the figure at the top of each, the Evening Sun and the Rising Sun, both executed with poetic feeling. In the Rising Sun, Weinmann had succeeded in putting into the figure of the youth life, motion and joy. Looking at that figure, just ready to spread its wings, one felt as if it were really about to sweep into the air. Though the Evening Sun might be less dramatic, it was just as fine. "It isn't often that you see sculpture of such imaginative quality," said the architect.

Those great symbolic figures by Robert Aitken, at once giving a reminder of Michael Angelo, impressed me as being perfectly adapted to the Court, and to their subjects, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. But my companion thought they were too big. He agreed, however, that they were both original and strong. There was cleverness in making the salamander, with his fiery breath and his sting, ready to attack a Greek warrior, symbolize fire. Under the winged girl representing air there was a humorous reference to man's early efforts to fly in the use of the quaint little figure of Icarus. Water and earth were more conventional, but worked out with splendid vigor, the two figures under earth suggesting the competitive struggle of men. "I remember Aitken in his beginning here in San Francisco. Though he often did poor stuff, everything of his showed artistic courage and initiative. Even then anyone could see there was something in him. Now it's coming out in the work he has contributed to this Exposition. The qualities in these four statues we shall see again when we reach the fountain that Aitken made for the Court of Abundance. They are individual without being eccentric. Compare these four figures with the groups in front of the two arches, by Paul Manship, another American sculptor of ability, but different from Aitken in his devotion to the early Greek. When Manship began his work a few years ago he was influenced by Rodin. Then he went to Rome and became charmed with the antique. Now he follows the antique method altogether. He deliberately conventionalizes. And yet his work is not at all conventional. He manages to put distinct life into it. These two groups, the 'Dancing Girls' and 'Music,' would have delighted the sculptors of the classic period."