building the american landscape - Univerza v Novi Gorici
building the american landscape - Univerza v Novi Gorici
building the american landscape - Univerza v Novi Gorici
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UNIVERSITY OF NOVA GORICA<br />
GRADUATE SCHOOL<br />
BUILDING THE AMERICAN LANDSCAPE<br />
Territories and Cities in <strong>the</strong> 19th Century Great Trasformation<br />
DISSERTATION<br />
Luca Guido<br />
Mentors:<br />
Renzo Dubbini<br />
Angelo Maggi<br />
Venice, 2013
BUILDING THE AMERICAN LANDSCAPE<br />
Territories and Cities in <strong>the</strong> 19th Century Transformation
Building <strong>the</strong> American Landscape.<br />
Territories and Cities in <strong>the</strong> 19 th Century Transformation<br />
Abstract<br />
The purpose of this research is to demonstrate <strong>the</strong> essential trait of <strong>the</strong> concept of<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, which developed in America throughout <strong>the</strong> 19 th century.<br />
The decades under examination, from <strong>the</strong> Independence of <strong>the</strong> United States<br />
(1776) and <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> Civil War (1865), were analysed with <strong>the</strong> intention of<br />
providing a general view of <strong>the</strong> problems concerning <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and <strong>the</strong> major<br />
transformations of American <strong>landscape</strong>s, <strong>building</strong>s and towns.<br />
The most important architectural, artistic, intellectual works realized throughout<br />
<strong>the</strong> nineteenth century are subjects of this intellectual history on American<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>. From <strong>the</strong> rural cemeteries to <strong>the</strong> first urban parks, <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong><br />
became a symbol of identification of <strong>the</strong> nation. The fields were no longer intended<br />
only for agricultural practices, and after years of diffusion of horticulture, <strong>the</strong><br />
territory was no longer interpreted as a symbol of Eden. The aes<strong>the</strong>tic writings and<br />
project considerations of <strong>the</strong> first <strong>landscape</strong> architects replaced <strong>the</strong> primitive<br />
demands for subsistence farming. This rapid revision of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes led to<br />
a major revolution in thought. The idea that <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> was common property<br />
and that one day this property could be in danger was an exquisitely American<br />
concern.<br />
Nowadays it should be difficult to think <strong>the</strong> modern culture of <strong>landscape</strong>, <strong>the</strong><br />
contemporary interest in preservation of natural spaces, and <strong>the</strong> contemporary<br />
approach to architecture without <strong>the</strong> work of <strong>the</strong> first American <strong>landscape</strong><br />
architects.<br />
Key words<br />
American <strong>landscape</strong>, nature, wilderness, agriculture, plantation houses, grid,<br />
horticulture, utopian experiments, middle <strong>landscape</strong>, industrial towns, manifest<br />
destiny, West, frontier, <strong>landscape</strong> gardening, picturesque garden, urban planning,<br />
American mind, Herman Melville, Walt Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry<br />
David Thoreau, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew Jackson Downing, Alexander Jackson<br />
Davis, Frederick Law Olmsted, Frank Lloyd Wright.
Grajenje ameriške krajine<br />
Teritoriji in mesta v transformaciji 19. stoletja<br />
Povzetek<br />
Namen raziskave je pokazati bistveno značilnost koncepta krajine, ki se je razvil v<br />
Ameriki v teku 19. stoletju.<br />
Desetletje, od neodvisnosti Združenih držav (1776) do konca državljanske vojne<br />
(1865), je bilo analizirano z namenom zagotavljanja splošnega vpogleda na<br />
probleme vezane na krajino in veliko preobrazbo ameriških krajin, zgradb in mest.<br />
Najpomembnejša arhitekturna, umetniška, intelektualna dela realizirana tokom<br />
devetnajstega stoletja so predmet intelektualne zgodovine ameriške krajine.<br />
Od podeželskih pokopališč do prvih mestnih parkih, je krajina postala<br />
identifikacijski simbol naroda. Polja niso bila več namenjena izključno kmetijskim<br />
praksam, ozemlje pa, po letih širjenja vrtnarstva, ni predstavljalo več simbol raja.<br />
Estetski zapisi in obravnave projektov prvih krajinskih arhitektov so nadomestili<br />
primitivne zahteve samooskrbnega kmetijstva. Tako rapidna revizija krajinskih tem<br />
je povzročila veliko revolucijo misli. Ideja, da je krajina skupna last in da bi bila<br />
lahko nekega dne ta last v nevarnosti, je bila izključno ameriška skrb.<br />
Danes bi bilo težko zamisliti sodobno kulturo krajine in interes za ohranjanje<br />
naravnih okolij ter sodobnega pristopa k arhitekturi brez dela prvih ameriških<br />
krajinskih arhitektov.<br />
Ključne besede<br />
Ameriška krajina, narava, divjina, kmetijstvo, plantažne hiše, grid, vrtnarstva,<br />
utopični eksperimenti, srednja krajina, industrijska mesta, usoda, Zahod, meja,<br />
urejanje parkov, slikoviti vrt, urbanizem, ameriški um, Herman Melville, Walt<br />
Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Thomas Jefferson, Andrew<br />
Jackson Downing, Alexander Jackson Davis, Frederick Law Olmsted, Frank Lloyd<br />
Wright.
The Oklahoma Land Rush, April 22, 1889, by John Steuart Curry (1937‐39)<br />
Building <strong>the</strong> American Landscape is <strong>the</strong> result of a <strong>the</strong>oretical reflection developed during <strong>the</strong> last years at <strong>the</strong><br />
University of Nova Gorica, international graduate school in Economics and Techniques for <strong>the</strong> Conservation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Architectural and Environmental Heritage.<br />
At <strong>the</strong> beginning, I thought to study only some aspects linked to relationship <strong>landscape</strong>‐architecture in <strong>the</strong> work<br />
of Frank Lloyd Wright. I was inspired by Reyner Banham’s researches in Scenes in America deserta (1982), more<br />
<strong>the</strong> Getty Institute in Los Angeles authorized me to examine <strong>the</strong> Banham’s papers in <strong>the</strong> archive but,<br />
unfortunately, I didn’t realize this project.<br />
The journeys through Illinois and Wisconsin, in <strong>the</strong> footsteps of Wright suggested me to extend my interests<br />
towards main <strong>the</strong>oretical and cultural basis of <strong>the</strong> great American architect. Many people and researchers had<br />
travelled those territories. Therefore I thought it was more interesting to understand how Emerson, Thoreau,<br />
Whitman, and <strong>the</strong> myth of American frontier had contributed to <strong>the</strong> organic language and to build <strong>the</strong> American<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
In Rome, at Centro Studi Americani, I have had <strong>the</strong> opportunity to address my studies towards <strong>the</strong> literary and<br />
philosophic aspects discussed in my dissertation. The services and electronic databases offered to members<br />
allowed me to see hundreds of academic magazines related to <strong>landscape</strong> and o<strong>the</strong>r important issues in my<br />
research.<br />
American institution as Massachusetts Historical Society (in particular <strong>the</strong> archive dedicated to <strong>the</strong> Thomas<br />
Jefferson Papers) and <strong>the</strong> Library of Congress have simplified my work providing valuable and evocative<br />
documents immediately in digital form.<br />
I was able to examine many 19 th century publications quoted and included in <strong>the</strong> bibliography by virtue of<br />
project “Archive”, which connects many American University, making available scans of ancient books now<br />
without copyright.<br />
However this work couldn’t have been written without <strong>the</strong> suggestion of my mentor Renzo Dubbini and <strong>the</strong><br />
accurate observations of Angelo Maggi.<br />
A special thanks to Robert McCarter for his interest in my interpretation of relationship between <strong>the</strong><br />
Jeffersonian grid <strong>landscape</strong> and Broadacre City project by Wright.<br />
I am indebted to Francesco Coppolecchia for <strong>the</strong> time and assistance he dedicated at Canadian Centre of<br />
Architecture to providing some information on <strong>the</strong> book La città <strong>american</strong>a.<br />
Finally this work is dedicated to my parents: in fact <strong>the</strong>y are my most regular reader who supported my studies<br />
and researches.<br />
Many energies are in <strong>the</strong>se pages. I only regret that I have but many places to visit for my intellectual<br />
satisfaction. I hope to go to <strong>the</strong>se and o<strong>the</strong>r <strong>landscape</strong>s. Last but not least “Building <strong>the</strong> American Landscape” is<br />
simply a chapter of a great history of contemporary <strong>landscape</strong> that I would like to write.<br />
Disertacija je bila narejena v okviru sofinanciranja študija po Javnem razpisu »Inovativna shema za<br />
sofinanciranje doktorskega študija za spodbujanje sodelovanja z gospodarstvom in reševanja aktualnih<br />
družbenih izzivov – generacija 2011 <strong>Univerza</strong> v <strong>Novi</strong> <strong>Gorici</strong>«, ki ga delno financira Evropski socialni sklad.
BUILDING THE AMERICAN LANDSCAPE<br />
Territories and Cities in <strong>the</strong> 19th Century Transformation<br />
Content<br />
‐Introduction p. 2<br />
‐The first America p. 9<br />
‐Nature, agriculture and <strong>the</strong> language of “freedom” p. 14<br />
‐Agricultural America p. 21<br />
‐The grid as <strong>landscape</strong> p. 46<br />
‐America, or <strong>the</strong> Israel of our time p. 61<br />
‐Utopian experiments and perspective Eden p. 69<br />
‐The “middle <strong>landscape</strong>” p. 86<br />
‐Industrial America p. 91<br />
‐Manifest Destiny p. 118<br />
‐First experiences of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening p. 124<br />
‐The <strong>landscape</strong> as a principle of urban planning p. 154<br />
‐The Wilderness, <strong>the</strong> West and <strong>the</strong> Significance of <strong>the</strong> Frontier p. 163<br />
‐Conclusion p. 175<br />
Attachments<br />
‐Chronological Table<br />
‐Bibliography<br />
1
Introduction<br />
The purpose of this research is to demonstrate <strong>the</strong> essential trait of <strong>the</strong> concept of<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, which developed in America from <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century and<br />
throughout <strong>the</strong> nineteenth, and <strong>the</strong> way in which this has marked <strong>the</strong> principal<br />
artistic, architectural and intellectual thoughts.<br />
Whereas <strong>the</strong> relationship between man and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> in Europe has been<br />
continually subjected to mediation, intellectualization and filtration by numerous<br />
“structures” such as towns, consolidated decision‐making bodies and <strong>the</strong> different<br />
social roles, in America man has experienced something totally new compared to<br />
<strong>the</strong> centuries‐old approach to nature and to <strong>the</strong> perception of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> in <strong>the</strong><br />
old continent. And it is precisely in America where man and nature developed a<br />
special relationship, with completely modern aims and contradictions. The wild<br />
lands of <strong>the</strong> North American continent were crossed by masses of migrants who<br />
placed <strong>the</strong>ir dreams and <strong>the</strong>ir hopes in America. Thousands of people found<br />
<strong>the</strong>mselves in close contact with <strong>the</strong> purest, most luxuriant nature thanks to<br />
technological developments, such as steam boats and railroads. Even if we bear in<br />
mind <strong>the</strong> well‐known situations of deprivation of <strong>the</strong>ir rights suffered by <strong>the</strong> black<br />
slaves and <strong>the</strong> American natives, <strong>the</strong> extreme egalitarianism imposed by events,<br />
which marked people in <strong>the</strong> emerging American democracy, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
faith in what appeared to so many poor people as <strong>the</strong> promised land, have created<br />
a sort of specific American religion. It generated not merely a desire, but also an<br />
eschatology, capable of giving a purpose to <strong>the</strong> destiny of <strong>the</strong> new American<br />
citizens. Once again, religion in America was streng<strong>the</strong>ned. However, new faiths<br />
were born, which developed in conditions open to social experiments, poetic and<br />
philosophical speculations and utopian experiments.<br />
Thus, in <strong>the</strong> course of this dissertation, although a specific geographical and<br />
chronological area may be referred to, we will often prefer to use <strong>the</strong> adjective<br />
American, ra<strong>the</strong>r than <strong>the</strong> term United States, since <strong>the</strong> former carries broader,<br />
more evocative and perhaps more contrasting issues.<br />
2
If, on <strong>the</strong> one hand, it is correct to say that <strong>the</strong> people who devised this particular<br />
way of referring to <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong> were Europeans, or ra<strong>the</strong>r of European<br />
origin, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand <strong>the</strong> meaning of <strong>the</strong>ir particular experience and of <strong>the</strong><br />
novelty of exploring <strong>the</strong> Great Plains and mountain ranges of America should never<br />
be forgotten.<br />
Back in Old Europe, man had had <strong>the</strong> possibility of getting to know and making his<br />
mark on <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, of gauging and changing it within <strong>the</strong> realms of possible,<br />
and had done so by superimposing projects and cultures lasting hundreds of years.<br />
Tested ownership systems controlled <strong>the</strong> enjoyment and understanding of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, at least in this day and age. Not by chance was <strong>the</strong> idea of a public park,<br />
interpreted as a natural <strong>landscape</strong> to be preserved for large numbers of citizens,<br />
developed in <strong>the</strong> new continent, far from <strong>the</strong> horti conclusi (walled gardens), from<br />
<strong>the</strong> Renaissance gardens, from <strong>the</strong> parks of <strong>the</strong> great royal palaces and from <strong>the</strong><br />
hunting reserves, wonderful private <strong>landscape</strong>s, owned by <strong>the</strong> noble aristocracy or<br />
by <strong>the</strong> rich bourgeoisie.<br />
Thus, <strong>the</strong> Renaissance tradition of considering <strong>the</strong> garden project as an integral part<br />
of <strong>the</strong> architecture merged with <strong>the</strong> American need to plan increasingly large areas.<br />
They did not wish to limit <strong>the</strong> latter to a chessboard pattern of geometrically<br />
aligned avenues, parterres and rond‐points (circular areas where avenues meet), but<br />
preferred to follow <strong>the</strong> English tradition of reproducing or enhancing pre‐existing<br />
and perhaps even picturesque sites, using sophisticated reproductions to create a<br />
convincing marriage between <strong>the</strong> work of man and <strong>the</strong> work of nature.<br />
The work of Thomas Jefferson (1743‐1826) in Monticello, Virginia is a typical<br />
example of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, which was being created at <strong>the</strong> time, a cross between a<br />
geometrical and a scientific approach, where <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> architect became an<br />
attentive land surveyor, farmer and botanist.<br />
Whereas, in <strong>the</strong> course of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, Europe was experimenting new<br />
approaches to <strong>the</strong> art of territory and town planning by redefining public spaces<br />
and reconsidering housing policies with close reference to <strong>the</strong> social<br />
transformations of <strong>the</strong> time, America initially introduced an intellectual discussion<br />
3
of <strong>the</strong> issue of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> design of spaces, in which man lived and walked,<br />
before finally putting it into practice.<br />
The cultural actors of <strong>the</strong>se events as Whitman, Emerson, Thoreau represented <strong>the</strong><br />
ideological core of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> research accomplished by designers as Downing<br />
and Olmsted.<br />
It was not merely a matter of redefining <strong>the</strong> relationship between town and<br />
country, of demolishing <strong>the</strong> old defensive walls, as often happened in Europe, but<br />
ra<strong>the</strong>r of picturing and giving a meaning to <strong>the</strong> experience of living and of feeling a<br />
connection with <strong>the</strong> wide, natural spaces, of which man had become aware and<br />
taken possession.<br />
Yellowstone, <strong>the</strong> first national park in <strong>the</strong> world 1 , was founded in <strong>the</strong> United States.<br />
Numerous public parks and nature reserves were created following <strong>the</strong> concept<br />
that <strong>the</strong>y “benefit <strong>the</strong> moral and physical and health of <strong>the</strong> population” 2 and<br />
parkways were devised, all of which became <strong>the</strong>ir first experience of <strong>landscape</strong><br />
planning on a regional scale.<br />
Therefore, what we wish to stress is <strong>the</strong> direct relationship between man and<br />
nature and <strong>the</strong> way in which this began in America. This research will essentially<br />
outline <strong>the</strong> growth of this relationship and show how it took shape in <strong>the</strong> American<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
Nature was sometimes represented artistically and historically as a kind of ideology<br />
anchored in <strong>the</strong> myth of wilderness. Many of <strong>the</strong> tales about <strong>the</strong> epic of <strong>the</strong> old<br />
West help us to take a better look at this issue and to identify <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>me.<br />
We only need think of <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> U.S. railway network as a result of<br />
geographical expeditions, military installations and <strong>the</strong> settlers. As <strong>the</strong> railway<br />
advanced, an answer was found to <strong>the</strong> problems of infrastructures and<br />
communications. However, at <strong>the</strong> same time an aes<strong>the</strong>tic experience, capable of<br />
even generating <strong>the</strong> first types of tourism, based on <strong>the</strong> vision of incredible sights of<br />
uncontaminated nature became available. However, <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s we are talking<br />
1 The Yellowstone National Park established by <strong>the</strong> U.S. Congress and signed in law by <strong>the</strong> president<br />
Ulysses S. Grant on March 1st, 1872<br />
2 ZAPATKA Christian, The American <strong>landscape</strong>, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 1995, p. 27<br />
(Italian translation L’architettura del paesaggio <strong>american</strong>o, edited by Mirko Zardini, Milano, Electa,<br />
1995, p. 27)<br />
4
about very soon became a symbol of life on <strong>the</strong> frontier. These places came very<br />
close to <strong>the</strong> definition of cultural <strong>landscape</strong>s given by <strong>the</strong> World Heritage<br />
Committee of UNESCO. The great American spaces referred to ultimately represent<br />
“<strong>the</strong> combined work of nature and of man” 3 ra<strong>the</strong>r well.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> one hand, <strong>the</strong> nomadic <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> Native Americans, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
“<strong>the</strong> machine in <strong>the</strong> garden” 4 , <strong>the</strong> modern technology of <strong>the</strong> means of<br />
transportation, which burst into <strong>the</strong> wilderness, moving <strong>the</strong> border of civilization<br />
forward a little more every day.<br />
The most sophisticated American intellectuals believed this relationship between<br />
man and nature was developed by giving life to <strong>the</strong> so‐called transcendentalist<br />
movement, which was probably <strong>the</strong> most interesting and au<strong>the</strong>ntic philosophical<br />
contribution to <strong>the</strong> definition of <strong>the</strong> concept of <strong>landscape</strong> in America.<br />
A new conception of man matched a new vision of <strong>the</strong> world and nature, in o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
words nature circumscribed a new model of <strong>the</strong> individual with precise artistic and<br />
intellectual interests. As mentioned previously, it was not only <strong>the</strong> philosophers<br />
who expressed <strong>the</strong>ir considerations, but also artists, men of letters, politicians and<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> architects. Our interest is to all of <strong>the</strong>m.<br />
In this respect, it must be said that <strong>the</strong> most important study, <strong>the</strong> most precise<br />
analysis ever made, on which this research is based, was <strong>the</strong> book by Leo Marx<br />
entitled The Machine in <strong>the</strong> Garden: Technology and <strong>the</strong> Pastoral Ideal in America<br />
(1964), which somehow gravitated around <strong>the</strong> image of <strong>the</strong> painting by George<br />
Innes, The Lackawanna Valley (1855), but which had <strong>the</strong> defect of not lingering on<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>/architectonic experiments and on <strong>the</strong> problem of <strong>the</strong> frontier,<br />
dwelling at length instead on <strong>the</strong> literary and poetic aspects.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> course of <strong>the</strong> following year, <strong>the</strong> large amount of research, which followed,<br />
privileged instead <strong>the</strong> analysis of problems which were more strictly urban. The<br />
historical studies by John William Reps on <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong> American cities<br />
represented <strong>the</strong> prevailing trend in <strong>the</strong> sixties and seventies of <strong>the</strong> last century<br />
3 Operational Guidelines for <strong>the</strong> Implementation of <strong>the</strong> World Heritage Convention. UNESCO, World<br />
Heritage Centre, Paris, 2005, p. 83<br />
4 MARX Leo, The Machine in <strong>the</strong> Garden. Technology and Pastoral Ideal in America. Oxford, Oxford<br />
University Press, 1979 [first ed. 1964] (Italian translation La Macchina nel giardino. Tecnologia e<br />
ideale pastorale in America. Roma, Edizioni Lavoro, 1987)<br />
5
especially, during which <strong>the</strong> interests of urban and country developments prevailed<br />
over <strong>the</strong> more contemporary viewpoint of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
One of <strong>the</strong> most important Italian contribution about this issue is <strong>the</strong> book La città<br />
<strong>american</strong>a, dalla guerra civile al New Deal (1973), related to Reps’ researches for<br />
various aspects but absolutely original in <strong>the</strong> hypo<strong>the</strong>sis put forward. Infact this<br />
book proposes <strong>the</strong> analysis of city problems looking towards <strong>the</strong> capitalistic dialectic<br />
(a priori understood as <strong>the</strong> true American “tradition”) and omitting o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
developments. According to Giorgio Ciucci, Francesco Dal Co, Mario Manieri‐Elia<br />
and Manfredo Tafuri (<strong>the</strong> Italian authors of <strong>the</strong> book) <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> was only a<br />
romantic interlude, part of progressive planning myth and basic element of agrarian<br />
ideology during 1930s.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> contrary our subject is <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong> and his “tradition” during <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier period in <strong>the</strong> culture of architectures, cities and territories.<br />
We want to show ad highlight how <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> entered <strong>the</strong> American<br />
consciousness, how <strong>the</strong> wilderness entered <strong>the</strong> city, how nature and agriculture<br />
“built” interesting relationships with architectural and urban design.<br />
For <strong>the</strong>se reasons when we talk about <strong>the</strong> analysis of <strong>the</strong> jeffersonian grid<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> we introduce <strong>the</strong> Wright’s project of Broadacre City offering a very<br />
different interpretation from that presented in La città <strong>american</strong>a.<br />
This research has arisen today from an academic interest in <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, in <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship between man and nature, and follows once again in <strong>the</strong> direction of <strong>the</strong><br />
studies by John Brinckerhoff Jackson, <strong>the</strong> author of some excellent books, which are<br />
little known in Europe and in Italy, and <strong>the</strong> critical attitude embodied by Lewis<br />
Mumford in The Brown Decades (1931). In <strong>the</strong> aforementioned publication<br />
Mumford compared culture and architectonical aspects in America, which was<br />
moving towards <strong>the</strong> ultimate frontier, and used symbolic figures to analyse <strong>the</strong><br />
various events.<br />
We present similar roles, however, focus <strong>the</strong> reflection on <strong>the</strong> period from<br />
Independence (1776) to <strong>the</strong> Civil War (1861—65) and dwell on <strong>the</strong> ideas and <strong>the</strong><br />
projects which have shaped <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>. For this very reason <strong>the</strong>re will<br />
also be forays into more recent years and into projects known to <strong>the</strong> vast public of<br />
6
architects. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> symbolic events discussed in architectonic<br />
historiography, such as <strong>the</strong> classical influence of Thomas Jefferson’s architecture,<br />
Pierre Charles L’Enfant (1754‐1825) plan for Washington (1791), and <strong>the</strong> events<br />
which brought architecture right into <strong>the</strong> School of Chicago, to <strong>the</strong> Columbian<br />
Exhibition of 1893 and finally to <strong>the</strong> City Beautiful movement,(1870s‐1890s), all act<br />
as <strong>the</strong> background to a story, which goes off at a tangent to <strong>the</strong> story of <strong>the</strong><br />
architectural and urban development of <strong>the</strong> main U.S. cities. Naturally, <strong>the</strong>re are<br />
many examples we could have proposed to tell this brief history of <strong>the</strong> creation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong> and of <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> idea of nature. We have<br />
taken upon ourselves <strong>the</strong> responsibility of <strong>the</strong> choice, conscious that something has<br />
been left out, but aware of <strong>the</strong> necessity to do so in order to reconstruct an<br />
extensive and open‐minded vision, which does not hinge on specialized and<br />
technical aspects which, as Max Weber says, afflicts studies in <strong>the</strong> most varied fields<br />
in this day and age.<br />
The projects and events mentioned in this dissertation are often accompanied by a<br />
series of quotations from literature of <strong>the</strong> period. According to Walter Benjamin,<br />
<strong>the</strong>se quotations do not protect <strong>the</strong> story, on <strong>the</strong> contrary, <strong>the</strong>y purify it as <strong>the</strong>y<br />
have <strong>the</strong> ability to tear <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes away from <strong>the</strong>ir original context and destroy <strong>the</strong><br />
most obvious interpretation. In fact, <strong>the</strong>y suddenly carry <strong>the</strong> reader into ano<strong>the</strong>r<br />
world, a critical point in his reading, from which he will be able to draw similar or<br />
different conclusions from <strong>the</strong> author’s.<br />
We would like to think that different authors in distant moments wrote <strong>the</strong> pages of<br />
a great book which no‐one will manage to completely rewrite.<br />
To summarise, this research attempts to identify suitable tools with which to<br />
consider from a <strong>the</strong>oretical point of view <strong>the</strong> great architectural and <strong>landscape</strong><br />
contributions by Frederick Law Olmsted and Frank Lloyd Wright, <strong>the</strong> most<br />
au<strong>the</strong>ntic, mature exponents of <strong>the</strong> relationship between man and nature. It wishes<br />
to tread <strong>the</strong> path of a tradition which embraces a long history with protagonists,<br />
such as Walt Whitman, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau.<br />
7
We have tried to do so by suggesting an approach which is not strictly academic,<br />
but which presupposes <strong>the</strong> evolution of <strong>the</strong> concept of <strong>landscape</strong> with its numerous<br />
twists and turns.<br />
We are well aware that <strong>the</strong> actions and <strong>the</strong> projects analyzed in <strong>the</strong> course of <strong>the</strong><br />
following pages cannot be extrapolated from <strong>the</strong> context of <strong>the</strong> political,<br />
intellectual and artistic developments throughout America during <strong>the</strong> nineteenth<br />
century up to <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century.<br />
8
The first America<br />
A short premise is required to place <strong>the</strong> first events of exploration and settlement<br />
of <strong>the</strong> coastal territories of North America into context.<br />
The historiography and sociological and political literature about American city have<br />
dissected and analysed in detail <strong>the</strong> decisive aspects of <strong>the</strong> first colonial settlements<br />
on <strong>the</strong> Atlantic coast. Philological expertise has now reconstructed how <strong>the</strong> first<br />
settlements were founded and <strong>the</strong>ir significance derives naturally from <strong>the</strong><br />
economic role played by <strong>the</strong> formation of <strong>the</strong> colonial empires of France, Spain and<br />
above all England. Thus, <strong>the</strong> foundation of <strong>the</strong> first towns was based for practical<br />
and symbolic reasons on concepts of Europe’s experiences of town planning.<br />
Traditional town planning in <strong>the</strong> Old World was, <strong>the</strong>refore, <strong>the</strong> background on<br />
which to root multiple needs and stimuli, which often differed greatly from those in<br />
Europe. These towns took on a shape which reflected <strong>the</strong> purpose of creating a<br />
common market, a controlling base (not merely a military outpost), a place from<br />
which to govern and exploit <strong>the</strong> territory, according to <strong>the</strong> talents of <strong>the</strong> settlers.<br />
However, in <strong>the</strong> initial years <strong>the</strong> very shape of <strong>the</strong> towns was based on defensive<br />
criteria against possible external enemies.<br />
The United States began as a sort of extension of Europe, subject also to a cultural<br />
dependency, which remains evident today especially on <strong>the</strong> East Coast, where<br />
contacts with <strong>the</strong> old homeland were more direct, and where intellectual influences<br />
had less possibility of being diluted by contact with <strong>the</strong> great prairies of <strong>the</strong> Mid‐<br />
West and <strong>the</strong> endless deserts of <strong>the</strong> West.<br />
However, as <strong>the</strong> years passed, reciprocal cultural influences mixed until <strong>the</strong>y<br />
merged to create a regenerated awareness and a latent consciousness, so very<br />
different from that of <strong>the</strong>ir countries of origin. The historian Maldwyn A. Jones<br />
clearly described <strong>the</strong> spiritual essence of <strong>the</strong> new‐born American man:<br />
Long after <strong>the</strong>y became politically independent, Americans remained in<br />
a state of cultural (and to a lesser extent, economic) dependence upon<br />
Europe, reading European books, aping European fashions, drawing on<br />
European technological “know how” and recruiting European labour to<br />
till <strong>the</strong>ir fields and develop <strong>the</strong>ir mines and factories. Yet even <strong>the</strong> first<br />
9
colonial settlements were never an exact replica of Europe. Right from<br />
<strong>the</strong> start American society and culture diverged from European models.<br />
The American environment had dissolving effects: it demanded and<br />
encouraged new ways of thinking and behaving and forced European<br />
settlers to modify <strong>the</strong> institutions <strong>the</strong>y brought with <strong>the</strong>m.<br />
The sheer size of America, its remoteness from Europe, its climatic and<br />
topographical peculiarities, its seemingly endless economic<br />
opportunities, <strong>the</strong> extraordinary energies required to subdue <strong>the</strong><br />
wilderness ‐ <strong>the</strong>se factors helped to form a fluid, mobile society and<br />
bred a temper that was at once restless, optimistic, enterprising,<br />
reckless, and impatient of external restraint. A fur<strong>the</strong>r source of<br />
divergence was that Americans drew not on one European tradition but<br />
several. Although during <strong>the</strong> crucial early decades of settlement English<br />
influences were paramount, by 1760 <strong>the</strong>re was a sufficient non‐English<br />
leavening to give <strong>the</strong> population a distinctive spice. In <strong>the</strong> nineteenth<br />
century America attracted vast numbers of immigrants from every<br />
Country in Europe – and from o<strong>the</strong>r parts of <strong>the</strong> world. A unique blend<br />
of peoples and culture was to result. Americans <strong>the</strong>n remained in<br />
Europe’s debt but evolved a distinct society with an ethos and an idiom<br />
of its own. 5<br />
The geographical factor, that is <strong>the</strong> abundance of available lands compared to an<br />
“overcrowded” and exploited Europe, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> physical distance from <strong>the</strong><br />
old social injustice also contributed to form <strong>the</strong> typical belief of invulnerability of<br />
<strong>the</strong> new nation. A vision that was definitively put into question by <strong>the</strong> shock<br />
produced in <strong>the</strong> U.S. and in <strong>the</strong> Western world by <strong>the</strong> terrorist attacks of September<br />
11 th , 2001.<br />
Besides, <strong>the</strong> idea of American greatness and success has been fed and reinforced<br />
over <strong>the</strong> years to <strong>the</strong> point of overturning <strong>the</strong> correct, aforementioned assertions<br />
by Maldwyn A. Jones, which referred to <strong>the</strong> colonial period and to <strong>the</strong> nineteenth<br />
century. Suffice it to list but a few items of daily use, such as <strong>the</strong> mass‐produced car,<br />
<strong>the</strong> Apple computer and jeans, to understand how America has gradually become<br />
convinced that beyond its political/military victories it has reached <strong>the</strong> summit of<br />
<strong>the</strong> world economic system on <strong>the</strong> basis of indisputable factual data, and can<br />
dictate fashions and create an empire made of rules of behaviour with precise<br />
meanings.<br />
5 JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐1992, London, Oxford University<br />
Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] p. 1 (Italian translation Storia degli Stati Uniti d’ America. Dalle prime<br />
colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milano, Bompiani 2011, p. 7)<br />
10
However, it must not be forgotten that <strong>the</strong> American dream has been achieved<br />
mainly at <strong>the</strong> expense of <strong>the</strong> Natives and <strong>the</strong> slaves.<br />
In his book A people’s History of <strong>the</strong> United States (1980), Howard Zinn (1922‐2010),<br />
perhaps <strong>the</strong> most important, radical U.S. historian (in Europe he would more<br />
correctly be called an intellectual antagonist), dealt with <strong>the</strong> social and political<br />
conditions, which marked <strong>the</strong> years before <strong>the</strong> independence of <strong>the</strong> United States.<br />
He shifted <strong>the</strong> perspective on to ordinary, defeated people, in o<strong>the</strong>r words on to<br />
those, who have never been capable of writing <strong>the</strong>ir history. According to Zinn’s<br />
interpretation, American history hides an identity made of ferocious conflicts of<br />
interest between opposing classes:<br />
It seems quite clear that class lines hardened through <strong>the</strong> colonial<br />
period; <strong>the</strong> distinction between rich and poor became sharper. By 1700<br />
<strong>the</strong>re were fifty rich families in Virginia, with wealth equivalent to fifty<br />
thousand pounds (a huge sum in those days), who lived off <strong>the</strong> labor of<br />
black slaves and white servants, owned <strong>the</strong> plantations, sat on <strong>the</strong><br />
governor's council, served as local magistrates. In Maryland, <strong>the</strong> settlers<br />
were ruled by a proprietor whose right of total control over <strong>the</strong> colony<br />
had been granted by <strong>the</strong> English King. Between 1650 and 1689 <strong>the</strong>re<br />
were five revolts against <strong>the</strong> proprietor. In <strong>the</strong> Carolinas, <strong>the</strong><br />
Fundamental Constitutions were written in <strong>the</strong> 1660s by John Locke,<br />
who is often considered <strong>the</strong> philosophical fa<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong> Founding Fa<strong>the</strong>rs<br />
and <strong>the</strong> American system. Locke's constitution set up a feudal‐type<br />
aristocracy, in which eight barons would own 40 percent of <strong>the</strong> colony's<br />
land, and only a baron could be governor. When <strong>the</strong> crown took direct<br />
control of North Carolina, after a rebellion against <strong>the</strong> land<br />
arrangements, rich speculators seized half a million acres for<br />
<strong>the</strong>mselves, monopolizing <strong>the</strong> good farming land near <strong>the</strong> coast. Poor<br />
people, desperate for land, squatted on bits of farmland and fought all<br />
through <strong>the</strong> pre‐Revolutionary period against <strong>the</strong> landlords' attempts to<br />
collect rent. Carl Bridenbaugh's study of colonial cities, Cities in <strong>the</strong><br />
Wilderness, reveals a clear‐cut class system: >At <strong>the</strong> very start of <strong>the</strong><br />
Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1630, <strong>the</strong> governor, John Winthrop, had<br />
declared <strong>the</strong> philosophy of <strong>the</strong> rulers: "... in all times some must be rich,<br />
some poor, some high and eminent in power and dignity; o<strong>the</strong>rs mean<br />
and in subjection." […] New York in <strong>the</strong> colonial period was like a feudal<br />
kingdom. The Dutch had set up a patronship system along <strong>the</strong> Hudson<br />
River, with enormous landed estates, where <strong>the</strong> barons controlled<br />
completely <strong>the</strong> lives of <strong>the</strong>ir tenants. In 1689, many of <strong>the</strong> grievances of<br />
<strong>the</strong> poor were mixed up in <strong>the</strong> farmers' revolt of Jacob Leisler and his<br />
group. Leisler was hanged, and <strong>the</strong> parcelling out of huge estates<br />
11
continued. Under Governor Benjamin Fletcher, three‐fourths of <strong>the</strong> land<br />
in New York was granted to about thirty people. He gave a friend a half<br />
million acres for a token annual payment of 30 shillings. […] The<br />
colonies, it seems, were societies of contending classes ‐ a fact obscured<br />
by <strong>the</strong> emphasis, in traditional histories, on <strong>the</strong> external struggle against<br />
England, <strong>the</strong> unity of colonists in <strong>the</strong> Revolution. The country, <strong>the</strong>refore,<br />
was not "born free" but born slave and free, servant and master, tenant<br />
and landlord, poor and rich. 6<br />
The myth of <strong>the</strong> Atlantic coast as a place of shelter, where land to be cultivated<br />
could be found and social conflicts could be solved, appears more complex and<br />
well‐structured than it appears at first sight.<br />
When <strong>the</strong> Pilgrim Fa<strong>the</strong>rs arrived in 1620 on <strong>the</strong> Mayflower, <strong>the</strong> colonial<br />
experiment was at its second attempt. After <strong>the</strong> foundation of Jamestown in<br />
Virginia in 1607, <strong>the</strong> first black slaves had already been put ashore in 1619 by a<br />
Dutch ship, in what had become <strong>the</strong> first English settlement on American soil.<br />
However, immediately after <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, <strong>the</strong> ideas of<br />
equality and <strong>the</strong> language of freedom found ample approval, at least from an ideal<br />
point of view, in <strong>the</strong> first English colonies. On <strong>the</strong> basis of <strong>the</strong>se new convictions,<br />
and with <strong>the</strong> idea and <strong>the</strong> symbol of a Nation to be built, intellectuals and influential<br />
individuals were able to unite many people in <strong>the</strong> fight against <strong>the</strong>ir original<br />
mo<strong>the</strong>rland, perceived by most as a distant, tyrannical power.<br />
The years immediately after <strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence (1776) were those<br />
that ignited <strong>the</strong> engine of <strong>the</strong> melting pot, without, however, putting an immediate<br />
end to slavery and inequality. These were <strong>the</strong> years in which a relationship of nonsubjection<br />
to Europe was defined and in which <strong>the</strong> land of <strong>the</strong> new continent was<br />
idealized, on <strong>the</strong> basis of political independence and under <strong>the</strong> symbol of hope.<br />
The past, however, was not immediately repudiated and put aside in favour of <strong>the</strong><br />
future. The idealization of American nature surely has European roots and appeal.<br />
Think how <strong>the</strong> primitive aspects of <strong>the</strong> idea of <strong>the</strong> noble savage, so dear to<br />
6 ZINN, Howard, A people’s History of <strong>the</strong> United States, New York, Harper&Row, 1980 [quotation<br />
translated by <strong>the</strong> author] (Italian translation by Erica Mannucci, Storia del popolo <strong>american</strong>o, dal<br />
1492 a oggi, Milano, il Saggiatore, 2010, pp. 39‐41)<br />
12
Rousseau, and <strong>the</strong> Arcadian simplicity offered by life in <strong>the</strong> New World inspired<br />
American intellectuals.<br />
However, American life was also made up of contradictions. Contemplation of <strong>the</strong><br />
beauty of <strong>the</strong> natural environment could also take place without renouncing<br />
mundane finery and courtly architectural evocations of a mythological past. Many<br />
settlements of <strong>the</strong> plantations in <strong>the</strong> Deep South were born in this spirit.<br />
Nature could also be exploited for agricultural production by means of <strong>building</strong>s,<br />
which served above all as distinctive landmarks.<br />
The idea of a bucolic America totally dedicated to agriculture soon clashed with <strong>the</strong><br />
evolution of technology, which burst into <strong>the</strong> wilderness, giving rise to <strong>the</strong> epic of<br />
<strong>the</strong> frontier and of <strong>the</strong> Wild West.<br />
13
Nature, agriculture and <strong>the</strong> language of “freedom”<br />
We hold <strong>the</strong>se truths to be self‐evident, that all<br />
men are created equal, that <strong>the</strong>y are endowed<br />
by <strong>the</strong>ir Creator with certain unalienable Rights,<br />
that among <strong>the</strong>se are Life, Liberty, and <strong>the</strong><br />
pursuit of Happiness. 7<br />
Benjamin Franklin (1706‐1790), a protagonist in <strong>the</strong> years of <strong>the</strong> Revolution (1775‐<br />
1783), was one of <strong>the</strong> first Americans to be widely known in Europe.<br />
He lived in London as <strong>the</strong> representative of <strong>the</strong> colonies, in Paris as an American<br />
plenipotentiary minister; his affable, sincere manners and his genius made him<br />
immediately popular.<br />
He was to ironically nourish certain aspects of <strong>the</strong> mythology of American nature,<br />
making fun of his interlocutors, whilst at <strong>the</strong> same time favouring an exotic idea of<br />
<strong>the</strong> colonies. In 1765 in <strong>the</strong> London pages of The Public Advertiser 8 he was to<br />
reassure English readers, flaunting a certain humour, about improbable news<br />
coming from America: not simple literary inventions, but “one of <strong>the</strong> finest<br />
Spectacles in Nature”, alluding to <strong>the</strong> jumping whales and to cod hunting in <strong>the</strong><br />
Niagara Falls. In 1773, <strong>the</strong> naturalist William Bartram (1739‐1823) started a long<br />
voyage in <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn colonies, which lasted four years, and his discoveries and<br />
adventures are recorded in his book Travels Through North & South Carolina,<br />
Georgia, East & West Florida, <strong>the</strong> Cherokee Country, <strong>the</strong> Extensive Territories of <strong>the</strong><br />
Muscogulges, or Creek Confederacy, and <strong>the</strong> Country of <strong>the</strong> Chactaws. Containing<br />
an Account of <strong>the</strong> Soil and Natural Productions of Those Regions; Toge<strong>the</strong>r with<br />
Observations on <strong>the</strong> Manners of <strong>the</strong> Indians (1791).<br />
The publication (1791) is a botanical report, and at <strong>the</strong> same time one of <strong>the</strong> first<br />
contributions by American literature to <strong>the</strong> description of luxuriant sceneries,<br />
picturesque <strong>landscape</strong>s, ferocious animals and Native Americans intent on<br />
contemplating nature. The <strong>the</strong>me of <strong>the</strong> Native inhabitants was also dealt with by<br />
7 Second sentence of <strong>the</strong> United States Declaration of Independence (1776)<br />
8 FRANKLIN, Benjamin , “The Grand Leap of <strong>the</strong> Whale”, The Public Advertiser, May 22, 1765<br />
14
Francois‐René de Chateaubriand (1768‐1848), who talked about it in three tales 9<br />
inspired by his experiences in <strong>the</strong> forests of North America (1791).<br />
As in Bartram, here too, <strong>the</strong> inhabitants of <strong>the</strong> wild territories of <strong>the</strong> New World<br />
resembled <strong>the</strong> characters described by Rousseau 10 according to <strong>the</strong> taste of <strong>the</strong><br />
Europeans of <strong>the</strong> time. The <strong>landscape</strong>s were also accurately described, and <strong>the</strong><br />
visions of nature combined toge<strong>the</strong>r and developed parallel to those of <strong>the</strong> ancient<br />
world 11 . In his scientific report of <strong>the</strong> voyage made to Latin America between 1799<br />
and 1804 Le voyage aux regions equinoxiales du Nouveau Continent (1810‐1825),<br />
Alexander Von Humboldt (1769‐1859) described majestic <strong>landscape</strong>s, full of natural<br />
beauty, however, <strong>the</strong> Old Europe, with its baggage of antiquity and classicism,<br />
remained a frequent term of comparison, despite continuous and sincere denials:<br />
Between <strong>the</strong> tropics on <strong>the</strong> contrary, in <strong>the</strong> lower regions of both Indies,<br />
everything in nature appears new and marvellous. In <strong>the</strong> open plains,<br />
and amid <strong>the</strong> gloom of forests, almost all <strong>the</strong> remembrances of Europe<br />
are effaced; for it is <strong>the</strong> vegetation that determines <strong>the</strong> character of a<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, and acts upon our imagination by its mass, <strong>the</strong> contrast of its<br />
forms, and <strong>the</strong> glow of its colours. 12<br />
On <strong>the</strong> contrary, Thomas Jefferson (1743‐1826), one of <strong>the</strong> authors of <strong>the</strong><br />
Declaration of Independence (1776) and third President of <strong>the</strong> United States (1801‐<br />
1809), did not limit himself to simple descriptions or idealizations. He was <strong>the</strong> first<br />
American to work as project designer to “build” <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> in his estate of<br />
Monticello (1769‐1809) 13 [Figures 1‐12]. Numerous studies 14 have analyzed <strong>the</strong><br />
various phases of <strong>the</strong> construction of <strong>the</strong> Monticello villa and <strong>the</strong> planning choices<br />
9 Les Natchez (written between 1793 and 1799 but published only in 1826), Atala (1801) and René<br />
(1802)<br />
10 See CUNLIFFE, Marcus, The Literature of <strong>the</strong> United States, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1969<br />
pp. 42‐43 (It. tr. Storia della letteratura <strong>american</strong>a, Torino, Einaudi, 1970, pp. 44‐45)<br />
11 See DUBBINI, Renzo, Geografie dello sguardo. Visione e paesaggio in età moderna, Einaudi, Torino<br />
1994, pp. 66‐80<br />
12 HUMBOLDT Von, Alexander, Le voyage aux regions equinoxiales du Nouveau Continent, Paris,<br />
1810‐1825 (English translation by Helen Maria Williams, Personal Narrative of Travels to <strong>the</strong><br />
Equinoctial Regions of <strong>the</strong> New Continent, [London, Longman, 1818] New York, AMS press, 1966, vol<br />
III, p. 354)<br />
13 The Monticello estate is included in <strong>the</strong> list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong><br />
University of Virginia of Charlottesville (1817‐1826), ano<strong>the</strong>r example of <strong>the</strong> interest in <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship between architecture and <strong>the</strong> natural <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
14 See Bibliography. Here we only mention: BEISWANGER, William, Monticello in Measured Drawings,<br />
Charlottesville, Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation, 1998;<br />
15
adopted by Jefferson as an architect. His strict use of Neo‐Palladian designs [Figure<br />
2] made Jefferson an up‐to‐date architect who supported <strong>the</strong> choices of <strong>the</strong> main<br />
protagonists of <strong>the</strong> late Enlightenment. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, his allusions to Renaissance,<br />
Roman and Greek architecture acquired <strong>the</strong> meaning in far‐away Virginia of a<br />
fundamental commemoration. The classicism of Jefferson’s neo‐Palladianism, his<br />
interest in agriculture, represented <strong>the</strong> programmatic, barely concealed dream of<br />
creating a rural <strong>landscape</strong> of bucolic and democratic inspiration.<br />
The past did not simply recall <strong>the</strong> justice of those far‐away times, but used<br />
architecture to bring back hope and faith, too, in <strong>the</strong> forms of <strong>the</strong> newly‐born<br />
Republic. Therefore, our interest in Monticello, with its 5,000 acres of land<br />
(approximately 2,000 hectares), is not in <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> itself, nor in its decorations,<br />
but in <strong>the</strong> agricultural vocation of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>, which, with its vegetable and flower<br />
gardens, plantations and roads, proves it is a perfect workhouse of nature [Figure<br />
3]. The formal perfection of <strong>the</strong> architecture and <strong>the</strong> completeness of <strong>the</strong><br />
architectural project divert our attention from <strong>the</strong> experimental and at times even<br />
ephemeral use of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> [Figure 4‐5] .<br />
The Italian, Filippo Mazzei, played a privileged role in <strong>the</strong> agricultural development<br />
of <strong>the</strong> Monticello estate. He was a versatile character, who was to become a<br />
frequent visitor and friend of Jefferson and of o<strong>the</strong>r influential politicians from <strong>the</strong><br />
moment of his arrival in Virginia in 1773, in <strong>the</strong> wake of a group of Tuscan farmers.<br />
Jefferson, who felt <strong>the</strong> Italian influence so deeply that he had called his estate<br />
Monticello 15 , gave him <strong>the</strong> use of a nearby property named Colle, and became a<br />
staunch friend of Mazzei, who reciprocated in turn with <strong>the</strong> supply and <strong>the</strong> sale of<br />
plants, vegetables and vines 16 .<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> role of Filippo Mazzei in <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
Republic goes far beyond <strong>the</strong> role of a simple farmer dedicated to <strong>the</strong><br />
contemplation of nature. As numerous detailed research studies have already<br />
15 See GOODWIN, S. Lucia, “Italians in <strong>the</strong> Monticello orchard” in STANTON, C. Lucia, Anniversary<br />
dinner at Monticello, April 12, 1982, in memory of Thomas Jefferson, Charlottesville, Thomas<br />
Jefferson Memorial Foundation, 1982 and <strong>the</strong> link<br />
http://wiki.monticello.org/mediawiki/index.php/Italian_Influence_in_<strong>the</strong>_Orchard URL visited May<br />
28, 2012<br />
16 See MHS archive, Coolidge Collection of Thomas Jefferson Papers, Garden Book, pp.<br />
15,22,29,30,31,35,40<br />
16
highlighted 17 , Mazzei was also one of <strong>the</strong> inspirers of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>sis of <strong>the</strong> principle of<br />
equality of men, incorporated in <strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence. For this reason,<br />
John F. Kennedy himself granted Mazzei honours which no‐one had ever given him<br />
previously in his book A Nation of Immigrants (1958) 18 .<br />
Among <strong>the</strong> documents made available by <strong>the</strong> Massachusetts Historical Society, <strong>the</strong><br />
electronic archive dedicated to <strong>the</strong> Thomas Jefferson Papers 19 contains <strong>the</strong> detailed<br />
diaries, <strong>the</strong> Garden Book and <strong>the</strong> Farm Book, in which Jefferson recorded his<br />
intentions and <strong>the</strong> agricultural actions taken, listing not only <strong>the</strong> plants, seeds,<br />
flowers, but also <strong>the</strong> origins of <strong>the</strong> flora and <strong>the</strong> successes and failures of <strong>the</strong><br />
relevant cultivations [Figures 11‐12].<br />
The extraordinary interest aroused by <strong>the</strong>se handwritten documents highlights <strong>the</strong><br />
continual modifications of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and <strong>the</strong> attempts made on it.<br />
The hypo<strong>the</strong>sis completed during <strong>the</strong> years of his presidency contained four<br />
elliptical paths, <strong>the</strong> roundabouts, which surround <strong>the</strong> hill top and as <strong>the</strong>y slowly<br />
descend to lower levels, <strong>the</strong>y gradually increase in circumference [Figure 7].<br />
These paths give access to several <strong>landscape</strong>d areas, designed around <strong>the</strong> main<br />
<strong>building</strong>. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, “The ground between <strong>the</strong> upper and lower roundabouts to<br />
be laid out in lawns and clumps of trees, <strong>the</strong> lawns opening so as to give<br />
advantageous catches of prospect to <strong>the</strong> upper roundabout. Vistas from <strong>the</strong> lower<br />
roundabout to good portions of prospect” 20 . To <strong>the</strong> East <strong>the</strong> paths go beyond The<br />
Grove, obtained by thinning out a nearby portion of natural forest, cleared of <strong>the</strong><br />
undergrowth, <strong>the</strong>n skirting <strong>the</strong> Mulberry Row to <strong>the</strong> South, with <strong>the</strong> pavilions used<br />
17 See MARCHIONE, Margherita, Philip Mazzei: Jefferson's "Zealous Whig", Morristown, NJ, American<br />
Institute of Italian Studies, 1975, and in bibliography <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r studies by Marchione about Mazzei.<br />
18 See KENNEDY, F. John, A Nation of Immigrants, New York, Harper Collins, 1964 (first ed. 1958), pp.<br />
15‐16: “The great doctrine incorporated into <strong>the</strong> Declaration of<br />
Independence by Thomas Jefferson, was paraphrased from <strong>the</strong> writing of Philip Mazzei, an Italianborn<br />
patriot and pamphleteer, who was a close friend of Jefferson. A few alleged scholars try to<br />
discredit Mazzei as <strong>the</strong> creator of this statement and idea, saying that "<strong>the</strong>re is no mention of it<br />
anywhere until after <strong>the</strong> Declaration was published". This phrase appears in Italian in Mazzei's own<br />
hand, written in Italian, several years prior to <strong>the</strong> writing of <strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence. Mazzei<br />
and Jefferson often exchanged ideas about true liberty and freedom. No one man can take complete<br />
credit for <strong>the</strong> ideals of American democracy”.<br />
19 http://www.masshist.org/thomasjeffersonpapers/ URL visited May 28, 2012<br />
20 JEFFERSON, Thomas, “General Ideas for <strong>the</strong> improvement of Monticello” c. 1804, Jefferson Papers,<br />
Massachusetts Historical Society, in TEYSSOT, George (ed.), The American lawn, New York, Princeton<br />
architectural press; Montreal, Canadian centre for architecture, 1999, p. 79<br />
17
as workshops. Downhill from <strong>the</strong> Mulberry Row <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> Vegetable Garden<br />
Terrace 21 , with a small pavilion‐belvedere, two small vineyards (measuring 16,000<br />
and 9,000 square feet respectively, equal to 1,400 and 800 sq.m.), spaced out by<br />
<strong>the</strong> Berry Squares [Figures 5‐6], and <strong>the</strong> South Orchard 22 with numerous varieties of<br />
apples, peaches, cherries, pears, apricots and plums [Figure 10], which was<br />
“restored” in 1981 to make it accessible to visitors.<br />
Numerous attempts have been made in this orchard to cultivate Mediterranean<br />
trees, such as fig, almond, pomegranate and olive trees, without success due to <strong>the</strong><br />
harsh winter and spring climate 23 .<br />
The Eastern side of Monticello features a smaller orchard [Figure 5], planted in 1784<br />
before he left for France, and a thinned out wood, or arboretum, with<br />
autochthonous plants and o<strong>the</strong>r trees, such as <strong>the</strong> red cedar (Juniperus virginiana),<br />
<strong>the</strong> sugar maple (Acer saccharum), <strong>the</strong> European larch (Larix decidua), <strong>the</strong> tulip<br />
poplars (Liriodendron tulipifera) 24 .<br />
The project for <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s adjacent to <strong>the</strong> main <strong>building</strong>, Jefferson thought of<br />
various techniques to diversify <strong>the</strong> uses of <strong>the</strong> surrounding land. His solutions show<br />
a knowledge of European <strong>landscape</strong>s. Jefferson, as is well known, had spent time in<br />
England, France and Italy and had drawn inspiration from his experiences in <strong>the</strong>se<br />
countries. The Italian influence can be seen in <strong>the</strong> names given to <strong>the</strong> places, in <strong>the</strong><br />
classical origins of <strong>the</strong> architecture and in his friendship with Mazzei (toge<strong>the</strong>r with<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r Italians). They can all be traced back to <strong>the</strong> fascination exercised by <strong>the</strong> Four<br />
Books of Architecture by Andrea Palladio, which Jefferson had studied in detail 25 .<br />
21 See HATCH, J. Peter, “A Rich Spot of Earth”: Thomas Jefferson’s Revolutionary Garden at<br />
Monticello, foreword by Alice Waters, New Haven, University of Yale Press, 2012, p. 280<br />
22 See HATCH, J. Peter, The fruits and fruit trees of Monticello, Charlottesville, University of Virginia<br />
Press, 1998, p. 222<br />
23 See MHS archive, Coolidge Collection of Thomas Jefferson Papers, Garden Book, p. 23, Oct. 12.<br />
1778 “brought an olive tree from Colle. It is a shoot from an old root, being one of many brought<br />
from Italy in 1773. They stood <strong>the</strong> winter of that year and <strong>the</strong> remarkable frost of May 5.1774 also<br />
<strong>the</strong> winters of 1774 & 1775 planted in <strong>the</strong> open field & without any cover in Decemb. 1775 & Jan.<br />
1776.There was a frost of four or five weeks duration, <strong>the</strong> earth being frozen like a rock <strong>the</strong> whole<br />
time. This killed all <strong>the</strong> olives; <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs totally, this one alone sprung up from <strong>the</strong> old root. Its<br />
height now is 21 3/4 I. took a cutting from it and planted it. When an olive tree is killed in Italy and a<br />
new shoot puts out, it is ten years before it bears.”<br />
24 http://www.monticello.org/site/house‐and‐gardens/trees‐monticello URL visited May 28, 2012<br />
25 Thomas Jefferson owned five different editions of <strong>the</strong> Palladio’s publication I quattro libri<br />
dell’architettura. The first English edition is by Giacomo Leoni The architecture of Andrea Palladio,<br />
London, 1715<br />
18
The call for tradition by English <strong>landscape</strong> gardening is also obvious. Jefferson does,<br />
in fact, show typical Anglo‐Saxon sensitivity in <strong>the</strong> way he combines <strong>the</strong> picturesque<br />
with <strong>the</strong> call of <strong>the</strong> past, as William Kent (1685‐1748) and Lancelot “Capability”<br />
Brown (1716‐1783) had already experimented in <strong>the</strong>ir work.<br />
His use of a Ha‐Ha barrier [Figure 5] on <strong>the</strong> east and west sides is proof of<br />
Jefferson’s attention to a detail which marked <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> English estates.<br />
In fact, he used it in <strong>the</strong> same spirit as <strong>the</strong> Ha‐ha barrier was not merely a ditch to<br />
establish <strong>the</strong> precise perimeter across a curve in <strong>the</strong> terrain. Its purpose was also to<br />
protect <strong>the</strong> flower gardens from <strong>the</strong> animals grazing close to <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>.<br />
The Eastern side, with <strong>the</strong> access road to <strong>the</strong> villa, is bound by an oval designed by a<br />
sequence of small columns and a chain fence [Figure 5]. The vegetable gardens and<br />
<strong>the</strong> fruit trees, which still exist today, were surrounded instead by paling fences<br />
about one metre high, to keep away ei<strong>the</strong>r hares, deer or o<strong>the</strong>r wild animals, as <strong>the</strong><br />
case may be, but over <strong>the</strong> years hawthorn hedges were also used to separate crops<br />
or to protect specific areas from <strong>the</strong> animals.<br />
In direct contact with <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>, in <strong>the</strong> space enclosed by <strong>the</strong> Nor<strong>the</strong>rn and<br />
Sou<strong>the</strong>rn pavilions, <strong>the</strong>re are numerous oval flower beds [Figures 4‐5], containing a<br />
large variety of species, selected over <strong>the</strong> years not only from places near and far,<br />
but also from <strong>the</strong> geographical expedition of Lewis and Clark (1804‐1806).<br />
Finally, as an extension of <strong>the</strong> side wings, <strong>the</strong>re is a clay pedestrian path in <strong>the</strong><br />
shape of a ring, which unfolds on <strong>the</strong> gently sloping land at <strong>the</strong> base of <strong>the</strong> summit<br />
to enclose a wide lawn[Figure 1], bordered here and <strong>the</strong>re by flower beds and a<br />
small pond. Fur<strong>the</strong>r away from Monticello, on <strong>the</strong> hills and slopes surrounding <strong>the</strong><br />
large estate, <strong>the</strong>re were sections of wood set aside for animals, such as deer, sheep,<br />
and cattle, and fields reserved for “intensive”, non‐experimental agricultural<br />
cultivation, on <strong>the</strong> basis of a scheme to exploit <strong>the</strong> ground using crop rotation. In<br />
<strong>the</strong>se additional fields, wheat, oats, clover, peas, corn and fruit trees were<br />
cultivated.<br />
In addition to all this, <strong>the</strong>re were numerous paths, canals, roads, <strong>building</strong>s, fields<br />
and sections of wood organized according to a common project. Even more amazing<br />
are not only Jefferson’s botanical notes, but also his detailed project drawings, <strong>the</strong><br />
19
assessments made with measurements and sketches, his general control of <strong>the</strong><br />
project guaranteed by continual shifts of scale, from <strong>the</strong> garden to <strong>the</strong> surrounding<br />
territory [Figures 8‐9], including his thoughts on <strong>the</strong> perspective views and on <strong>the</strong><br />
definition of <strong>the</strong> natural skyline.<br />
We are confronted with a very modern phenomenon, which, according to tradition,<br />
dates back to <strong>the</strong> history of architecture at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, and<br />
which anticipates <strong>the</strong> contemporary approach to <strong>landscape</strong> design.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> varied <strong>landscape</strong>s of Monticello also tell us something more, and <strong>the</strong>y<br />
may also sound like a warning today, however anachronistic <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of<br />
slavery which underpins Jefferson’s seductive organization of <strong>the</strong> estate may seem.<br />
Jefferson had condemned slavery many times, but for each vegetable garden, each<br />
field in Monticello <strong>the</strong>re were a proportionate number of simple cabins, shelters<br />
built for forced labour, which seemed to mock <strong>the</strong> words expressed in <strong>the</strong> Notes on<br />
<strong>the</strong> State of Virginia (1785), according to which <strong>the</strong> “Cultivators of <strong>the</strong> earth are <strong>the</strong><br />
most virtuous and independent citizens” 26 .<br />
Even today, <strong>the</strong> effort of <strong>building</strong> a common ground based on <strong>the</strong> idea of freedom,<br />
on <strong>the</strong> right to pursue happiness, clashes against a similarly sad and complex reality.<br />
To evoke a divine or earthly justice is not enough to satisfy <strong>the</strong> hunger for food,<br />
water and energy.<br />
Today’s fashionable topics concerning sustainability, recycling and <strong>the</strong> ecocompatibility<br />
of projects to transform <strong>the</strong> territory, too often appear on <strong>the</strong> pages<br />
of glossy magazines and in <strong>the</strong> classrooms of <strong>the</strong> Faculty of Architecture to be<br />
merely useful, scientific tools to maintain a contradictory system, in which <strong>the</strong><br />
slaves are no longer recognizable by <strong>the</strong>ir chains, since <strong>the</strong>y have been replaced by<br />
less visible constrictions.<br />
Nowadays, <strong>the</strong> problem raised by Jefferson has much wider geographical<br />
boundaries than <strong>the</strong> Monticello estate, because it affects <strong>the</strong> whole planet.<br />
Escaping to nature is of no use, we have to nourish those <strong>landscape</strong>s which creep<br />
into our towns to <strong>the</strong> same extent as those in <strong>the</strong> geographical and social outskirts<br />
of our world.<br />
26 PETERSON, Merrill, (ed.) Thomas Jefferson Writings, New York, Library of America, 1984, p. 301<br />
20
Figure 1- Monticello view from <strong>the</strong> lawn<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 2- Monticello West Elevation (view from <strong>the</strong> lawn)<br />
Figure 3- Drawing of Monticello garden, orchards, and grove accompanying letter to J.H.<br />
Freeman. [Autograph letter signed by T. Jefferson] 1806 February 26, Washington [to] Mr. J.<br />
Homes Freeman, Monticello [Map of lands leased] Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic<br />
Archive. Boston, Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003
Figure 4- Monticello: house and grounds (study), [1785-1789], by Thomas Jefferson.<br />
N136; K138 [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston,<br />
Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003
780<br />
THOMAS JEFFERSON'S MONTICELLO LANDSCAPE 1809-1826<br />
8<br />
7<br />
9<br />
9<br />
6<br />
5<br />
4<br />
3<br />
2<br />
9<br />
3<br />
1<br />
4<br />
2<br />
28<br />
5<br />
7<br />
6<br />
8<br />
5<br />
9<br />
10<br />
5<br />
13<br />
4<br />
15<br />
17<br />
16<br />
18<br />
12<br />
19<br />
11<br />
N<br />
7<br />
8<br />
7<br />
0 152,45 METERS<br />
0<br />
500 FEET<br />
1) LAWN<br />
2) WENDING FLOWER WALK<br />
3) OVAL FLOWER BEDS<br />
4) HA-HA BARRIERS<br />
5) GROVE<br />
6) FIRST ROUNDABOUT<br />
7) SECOND ROUNDABOUT<br />
8) THIRD ROUNDABOUT<br />
9) 1 FOOT IN 10 FEET ROAD<br />
10) ROAD TO RIVANNA RIVER<br />
11) MONTICELLO CEMETERY<br />
12) MULBERRY ROW-CEMETERY ROAD<br />
13) MULBERRY ROW ROAD<br />
14) SLAVE QUARTER BULDINGS<br />
800<br />
810<br />
820<br />
9<br />
10<br />
8<br />
9<br />
27<br />
10<br />
24<br />
21<br />
14<br />
17<br />
830<br />
820<br />
800<br />
780<br />
730<br />
9<br />
20<br />
22<br />
20<br />
6<br />
13<br />
15<br />
19<br />
23<br />
8<br />
15) VEGETABLE GARDEN TERRACE<br />
16) VEGETABLE GARDEN PAVILION<br />
17) VINEYARD<br />
18) BERRY SQUARES<br />
19) SOUTH ORCHARD<br />
20) NORTH ORCHARD<br />
21) CHAIN FENCE<br />
23<br />
7<br />
8<br />
26<br />
25<br />
8<br />
23<br />
22) PRINCIPAL ROAD TO HOUSE<br />
23) PARK FIELD<br />
24) SOUTH ROAD<br />
25) EAST ROAD<br />
26) NORTH ROAD<br />
27) NORTH PAVILION AND DEPENDENCIES<br />
28) SOUTH PAVILION AND DEPENDENCIES<br />
Figure 5- Monticello <strong>landscape</strong> 1809-1826 (Plan by Luca Guido)
Figure 6- Monticello Today: aerial view from Google Earth, 2012<br />
Figure 7- Monticello: mountaintop (plat), 1809, by Thomas Jefferson.<br />
N225; K169 [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston,<br />
Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003
Figure 8- Monticello: 3rd roundabout (plat), 1808-1809, by Thomas Jefferson.<br />
N215; K168d [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston,<br />
Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003<br />
Figure 9- Monticello: estate lands (plat), recto, 1806, by Thomas Jefferson.<br />
N209; K168 [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston,<br />
Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003
Figure 10- Monticello: orchard and vineyard (plat), undated, by Thomas Jefferson.<br />
N234; K169i [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston,<br />
Mass. Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003
Figure 11- Thomas Jefferson‘s Garden Book, 1774 (Note <strong>the</strong> name of Filippo Mazzei)<br />
Garden Book, 1766-1824, page 15, by Thomas Jefferson [electronic edition]. Thomas Jefferson<br />
Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston, Mass. : Massachusetts Historical Society, 2003.
April 1 sowed & planted as follows.<br />
No. 53. turneps. Dr Bland.<br />
25. Fagiuoli d’Augusta.<br />
19. do. verdi coll’occhio bianco. D. Hylton.<br />
71. Bonny-Bess. Colo. Bland.<br />
70. Snap-beans. Colo. Bland.<br />
2. Fagiuoli coll’occhio di Provenza.<br />
7. do. bianchi di Parigi.<br />
6. Cetriuoli. Webb. 9. monticini.<br />
5. do.Eppes. 12. monticini.<br />
4. <strong>the</strong> peas of Mar. 24. come up.<br />
5. Cucumbers. <strong>the</strong> same as No. 6. only that <strong>the</strong>se were steeped in water<br />
from Mar. 31. till this day when <strong>the</strong>y were sprouted. 10. hill<br />
do. same as No. 5. only soaked as before. 17. hills.<br />
No. 63. Piperone. John Wood.<br />
52. Cayenne Pepper. Dr. Bland.<br />
24. Purple beans. Jas. Donald.<br />
17. White & purple do. do.<br />
21. Sugar beans.<br />
1. Fagiuoli bianchi di Toscana.<br />
6. No. 65. Hotspur peas. Monticello.<br />
66. Marrow fat do.do.<br />
Planted 30. vines just below where <strong>the</strong> new garden wall will run, towards<br />
<strong>the</strong> Westermost end. 8 of <strong>the</strong>m at <strong>the</strong> Westermost end of <strong>the</strong> row were<br />
Spanish Raisins from Colo. Bland’s, next to <strong>the</strong>m were 16. native vines<br />
from Winslow’s in New Kent, and at <strong>the</strong> Eastermost end<br />
were 6. native vines of Monticello. They were planted by some Tuscan<br />
Vignerons who came over with mr. Mazzei. The manner<br />
was as follows.
Figure 12- Thomas Jefferson‘s Garden Book, 1804-1806-1809 (Note <strong>the</strong> name of Filippo<br />
Mazzei) Garden Book, 1766-1824, page 31, by Thomas Jefferson [electronic edition].<br />
Thomas Jefferson Papers: An Electronic Archive. Boston, Mass. : Massachusetts Historical<br />
Society, 2003.
1804<br />
Apr. 6. sowed seeds of <strong>the</strong> East India Asparagus in a small bed at <strong>the</strong> point of levelled<br />
triangle S.W. end of <strong>the</strong> garden.<br />
10. planted in <strong>the</strong> orchard below <strong>the</strong> garden black soft peaches of Georgia from W. Mer.<br />
12. planted 40. odd Hemlock & Weymouth pines near <strong>the</strong> Aspen thicket.<br />
29. planted seeds of <strong>the</strong> Cherokee rose from Govr. Milledge in a row of about 6.f. near <strong>the</strong> N.E. corner of <strong>the</strong><br />
Nursery. Goliah stuck sticks to mark <strong>the</strong> place. this has been a remarkeably backward spring. we have<br />
had fi res steadily thro’ <strong>the</strong> whole month.<br />
Apr. 22. a great fresh in <strong>the</strong> Rivanna this day. it was above <strong>the</strong> top of <strong>the</strong> hopper in my toll mill. by marks at<br />
Henderson’s distillery in Milton it wanted 6. feet of being as high as that in 1795. which wanted but 3. f. of<br />
being as high as <strong>the</strong> great fresh on <strong>the</strong> 26th. of May 1771.<br />
1806. Mar. 14. <strong>the</strong> road from <strong>the</strong> Shadwell ford to <strong>the</strong> top of <strong>the</strong> mountain, along <strong>the</strong> North side of <strong>the</strong> mountain,<br />
was begun & was fi nished May. 11. except some little blowing. it has taken 552. days work @2/ = 184. D.<br />
The cherries & peaches are completely killed this year, as well on <strong>the</strong> mountains as elsewhere. this<br />
was effected by cold freezing winds, mostly from <strong>the</strong> N.W. in <strong>the</strong> month of April, & of considerable cont<br />
inuance. The peaches & cherries (except Morellas) were <strong>the</strong>n in bloom & killed. <strong>the</strong> Morella cherries &<br />
apples, not being <strong>the</strong>n in bloom, escaped entirely.<br />
1809. Apr. 10. planted in <strong>the</strong> Nursery next below <strong>the</strong> little grass terras, in a bed ranging with <strong>the</strong> upper strawberry<br />
bed, 68. peach stones [W. Meriwe<strong>the</strong>r’s Georgia black. unknown, but supposed good be<br />
cause saved]<br />
69. plumstones in <strong>the</strong> row next below<br />
68. apricots stones in <strong>the</strong> next row & a half<br />
<strong>the</strong>se came from G. Jefferson, probably sent him from abroad, directed to me in a little bag. -<br />
<strong>the</strong>y came from mrs. Hackley Cadiz.<br />
Apr. 13. planted 32. seeds of <strong>the</strong> Mimosa julibritzin in <strong>the</strong> ear<strong>the</strong>n trough, in which were<br />
also sowed on <strong>the</strong> 10th. inst. seeds of <strong>the</strong> Alpine strawberry from Mazzei.<br />
sowed seeds of Dionaea muscipula in a pot. <strong>the</strong>y were several years old.<br />
in square II. beginning with <strong>the</strong> S. W. row sowed<br />
1. row of rheum undulatum, esculent rhubarb. <strong>the</strong> leaves excellent as Spinach.<br />
1.do. Long pod soup pea. or Asparagus bean. pods 3.f. long, to run on poles. when green <strong>the</strong>y are<br />
dressed as Asparagus, or as snaps, or boiled in soup.<br />
1.do. African early pea, lately introduced from Africa into S.Carola. where it gives 3. crops a year. <strong>the</strong><br />
two last as articles from Genl. Sumpter.<br />
1.do. lentils. Ervum lens.<br />
3. do. Windsor beans.<br />
14. sowed oil radish in <strong>the</strong> nursery, in <strong>the</strong> former asparagus bed.<br />
G. Divers fi nds <strong>the</strong> following suffi cient for his family.<br />
Celery 400. f. running measure. to wit 10. rows of my squares 3.f. apart 4 f is better<br />
Salsafy 320. f = 8. rows of my squares of 40 f. at 6. I. every way<br />
Carrots 320. f = 8. do.12.I. apart<br />
parsneps 200. f = 5. do.12.I. apart<br />
beet 200. f = 5. do.12.I. apart<br />
26. sowed Monthly strawberry seed from Colo.Worthington in Nursery E. corner.
Agricultural America<br />
The English colonial period had seen <strong>the</strong> affirmation of a mercantilist system, based<br />
on <strong>the</strong> commercial exchanges by sea between <strong>the</strong> homeland and <strong>the</strong> new lands.<br />
Thanks to <strong>the</strong> shipping companies, this merchant system had had a success over <strong>the</strong><br />
years, based on a structure of subordination of <strong>the</strong> colonization policies 27 to this<br />
particular scheme.<br />
The machine of economic development in <strong>the</strong> territory also assisted to a certain<br />
extent <strong>the</strong> exploitation and <strong>the</strong> exports of primary, natural resources on <strong>the</strong> model<br />
of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories of economists such as Thomas Mun 28 . With Independence (1776),<br />
following <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> revolutionary years (1775‐1783), <strong>the</strong> mercantilist system<br />
was quickly put to one side in favour of economic models intended to avoid <strong>the</strong><br />
exploitation and impoverishment of internal resources.<br />
The demands for change and <strong>the</strong> studies aiming to search for a possibility of<br />
economic reform were outlined by Alexander Hamilton, a conservative politician<br />
nominated first U.S. Secretary of <strong>the</strong> Treasury (in office from 1789 to 1795) by<br />
Washington. Hamilton was at first committed to drafting two Reports on <strong>the</strong> Public<br />
Credit (1790) and to reorganizing <strong>the</strong> tax and public debt systems. Then he fought<br />
to establish a national central bank called <strong>the</strong> First Bank of <strong>the</strong> United State, which<br />
was approved by Congress in 1791 after lengthy controversies by Thomas Jefferson<br />
and James Madison, who saw in <strong>the</strong> central bank <strong>the</strong> consolidation of a restricted<br />
group of investors at <strong>the</strong> expense of <strong>the</strong> majority of <strong>the</strong> population.<br />
Besides, Jefferson’s idea of an America committed to agriculture, fired by <strong>the</strong><br />
revolutionary ideals of <strong>the</strong> newly‐born Republic and described in <strong>the</strong><br />
aforementioned Notes on <strong>the</strong> State of Virginia (1785), was soon undermined by <strong>the</strong><br />
technological revolution, which highlighted how backward <strong>the</strong> agricultural system<br />
of <strong>the</strong> South of <strong>the</strong> United States had been since <strong>the</strong> years following <strong>the</strong> Civil War<br />
(1861‐1865).<br />
27 Think of <strong>the</strong> Virginia Act of 1622, The Town Act of 1662 and subsequent measures during <strong>the</strong><br />
colonial years<br />
28 Thomas Mun (1571‐1641) His works: A discourse of Trade from England unto East Indies (1621)<br />
and England’s Treasure by Foreign Trade (published in 1664 by his son)<br />
21
Hamilton’s Report on Manufactures (1791) is <strong>the</strong> programmatic document of <strong>the</strong><br />
opposition to that well‐rooted economy in <strong>the</strong> new American Nation, which hinged<br />
on land rents and on agricultural investments. As <strong>the</strong> main circumstances in favour<br />
of industrialization (protective prices, premiums and subsidies to favour private<br />
initiative, <strong>the</strong> introduction of new labour via immigration, <strong>the</strong> division of work, etc.)<br />
were identified, <strong>the</strong> report insisted mainly on <strong>the</strong> political arguments, proposing a<br />
doctrine of free‐trade, which intended to stimulate <strong>the</strong> commercial elements of <strong>the</strong><br />
Nor<strong>the</strong>rn States.<br />
Historic events have demonstrated Hamilton’s extreme farsightedness in imagining<br />
a modern, capitalistic economy, but <strong>the</strong>y have also highlighted <strong>the</strong> total<br />
indifference to a uniform implementation of such demands in <strong>the</strong> different States of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Union. The idea according to which “Whatever, besides, tends to diminish in<br />
any country <strong>the</strong> number of artificers and manufacturers, tends to diminish <strong>the</strong><br />
home market, <strong>the</strong> most important of all markets for <strong>the</strong> rude produce of <strong>the</strong> land,<br />
and <strong>the</strong>reby still fur<strong>the</strong>r to discourage agriculture” 29 could be true in <strong>the</strong> East,<br />
where <strong>the</strong> harsh climate, <strong>the</strong> not particularly fertile lands and <strong>the</strong> limited availability<br />
of agricultural soil had favoured a scientific approach to crops.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> East it was customary to take advantage of crop rotation and to make use of<br />
fertilizers; in <strong>the</strong> South, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, <strong>the</strong> abundance of fertile soil and <strong>the</strong><br />
more massive use of slavery had favoured an intensive agriculture based on<br />
exploitation of <strong>the</strong> soil, cultivated mainly with tobacco, sugar cane and cotton 30 .<br />
Eugene Genovese, a scholar of policies linked to slavery, analysed <strong>the</strong> economic<br />
limits of such practices:<br />
The weakest economic point in <strong>the</strong> South lay in <strong>the</strong> low productivity of<br />
its workforce. The slaves’ work was mediocre. Strict surveillance made it<br />
possible to make <strong>the</strong>m work reasonably well in <strong>the</strong> cotton fields, but <strong>the</strong><br />
cost of such surveillance during one or two operations was prohibitive.<br />
Slavery hindered <strong>the</strong> radical process to update technology, which could<br />
have substantially increased productivity. These obstacles to<br />
technological progress caused irreparable damage to agriculture in <strong>the</strong><br />
South, as it was precisely <strong>the</strong> improvement of tools and machinery<br />
29 SMITH, Adam, An Inquiry into <strong>the</strong> Nature and Causes of <strong>the</strong> Wealth of Nations, Forgotten Books,<br />
2008 (first ed. 1776), p. 521<br />
30 To study in depth: GRAY, Lewis Cecil, History of Agriculture in <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn United States to 1860,<br />
Washington, Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1933<br />
22
which definitely contributed to <strong>the</strong> enormous increase in <strong>the</strong> yield per<br />
hectare which distinguished <strong>the</strong> States of <strong>the</strong> North during <strong>the</strong> 19 th<br />
century. Slavery and <strong>the</strong> plantation system meant using agricultural<br />
methods, which in turn gradually impoverished <strong>the</strong> soil. Similar results<br />
were obtained by <strong>the</strong> frontier methods used by <strong>the</strong> Free States.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> existence of slavery meant that <strong>the</strong> South continued to<br />
depend on methods based on <strong>the</strong> intensive exploitation of <strong>the</strong> soil even<br />
when <strong>the</strong> frontier moved fur<strong>the</strong>r westwards. 31<br />
The expansion of <strong>the</strong> cotton plantations, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> growth of <strong>the</strong> textile<br />
industry in New England and <strong>the</strong> modernization of cultivation techniques, created<br />
an internal contradiction to <strong>the</strong> agrarian system of <strong>the</strong> South, which was one of <strong>the</strong><br />
reasons for <strong>the</strong> Civil War (1861‐1865).<br />
The introduction of <strong>the</strong> mechanical cotton gin 32 [Figure 13], invented by Eli Whitney<br />
in 1793, boosted both production and <strong>the</strong> occupation of new lands. Production rose<br />
from 3,000 balls (about 200 kilos each) of cotton in 1790 to 100,000 balls in 1801,<br />
400,000 in 1820 and 4 million in 1860.<br />
The law of demand and supply operated with surgical and tragic precision. In fact<br />
<strong>the</strong> cotton gin caused a rapid crash in <strong>the</strong> price of raw cotton and a shadow fell over<br />
<strong>the</strong> vast cotton <strong>landscape</strong>. Paradoxically, <strong>the</strong> machine, which was to free <strong>the</strong><br />
peasants from <strong>the</strong>ir labour in <strong>the</strong> fields, instead encouraged an increase in <strong>the</strong><br />
numbers of slaves in <strong>the</strong> South from 875,000 in 1800 to 4 million in 1860.<br />
The plantations extended in proportion and <strong>the</strong> system ended up by also favouring<br />
<strong>the</strong> banks in <strong>the</strong> hands of <strong>the</strong> rising, manufacturing bourgeoisie. Many landowners<br />
were often forced to ask for loans to anticipate <strong>the</strong> cost of investments to expand<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir crops. Within a few decades, this form of economy damaged <strong>the</strong> agricultural<br />
system of <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn States, even though it ensured rich short‐term earnings,<br />
first in South Carolina and Georgia, <strong>the</strong>n in <strong>the</strong> black belt region between Alabama<br />
and Mississippi, in <strong>the</strong> Mississippi delta and finally in Texas, stretching for 1,600 Km<br />
31 GENOVESE, D. Eugene, cit. in TEODORI, Massimo, Raccontare l’America. Due secoli di orgogli e<br />
pregiudizi, Milan, Mondadori, 2005, p. 27 [translation in english by <strong>the</strong> author].<br />
32 See LAKWETE, Angela, Inventing <strong>the</strong> Cotton Gin: Machine and Myth in Antebellum America,<br />
Baltimore, The John Hopkins University Press, 2003<br />
23
from East to West and including approximately 1,000 km of plantations along <strong>the</strong><br />
Mississippi river 33 .<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> scenarios of <strong>the</strong> plantations also included different settlement types.<br />
The main <strong>building</strong> was <strong>the</strong> owner’s house, often studied by historians of<br />
architecture as an isolated <strong>building</strong>. However, around <strong>the</strong> plantation house <strong>the</strong>re<br />
was usually an ornamental garden, cared for by professional gardeners, and a series<br />
of out<strong>building</strong>s, such as <strong>the</strong> cookhouse, <strong>the</strong> washhouse (laundry), <strong>the</strong> smokehouse,<br />
<strong>the</strong> milkhouse (dairy), and a cistern [Figure 19] .<br />
Some structures were quite common, such as <strong>the</strong> carriage house and blacksmith,<br />
o<strong>the</strong>rs, such as a small schoolhouse for <strong>the</strong> owner’s children, chapels,<br />
representative offices for business relationships, were quite frequent, but without<br />
recurrent schemes. The house of <strong>the</strong> overseer and <strong>the</strong> slave quarter naturally<br />
played an important role in <strong>the</strong> working of <strong>the</strong> plantation 34 . The materials used for<br />
all <strong>the</strong> residential <strong>building</strong>s were sometimes bricks or more often wood. Fur<strong>the</strong>r<br />
away, <strong>the</strong>re were vegetable gardens, orchards, haylofts and corrals for <strong>the</strong> animals.<br />
To complete this overall view, <strong>the</strong>re were various agricultural structures, laid out<br />
according to <strong>the</strong> needs of <strong>the</strong> plantation, in which to store materials and tools<br />
required to cultivate <strong>the</strong> products of <strong>the</strong> plantation 35 . The plantation papers<br />
represent a primary source for <strong>the</strong> interpretation of <strong>the</strong> cultural <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong><br />
South. These include various types of documents, such as diaries, letters, notes,<br />
sketches and drawings of <strong>the</strong> plantations, land surveys, notary deeds and<br />
inventories, all of which are evidence showing <strong>the</strong> purchase of trees and<br />
ornamental plants.<br />
A study by Suzanne Luise Turner 36 , professor of <strong>landscape</strong> architecture at Louisiana<br />
State University, highlighted <strong>the</strong> importance for <strong>landscape</strong> history of numerous<br />
33 For <strong>the</strong> data on this page see JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐<br />
1992, London, Oxford University Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] p. 1 (It. tr. Storia degli Stati Uniti<br />
d’America. Dalle prime colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milano, Bompiani, 2011, p. 113)<br />
34 See PHILLIPS, B. Ulrich, American Negro Slavery, Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press,<br />
1966<br />
35 See VLACH, John Michael, Back of <strong>the</strong> Big House, The Architecture of Plantation Slavery, Chapel Hill:<br />
University of North Carolina Press, 1993<br />
36 TURNER, Suzanne L., “Plantation Papers as a Source for Landscape Documentation and<br />
Interpretation: The Thomas Butler Papers”, published in Bulletin of <strong>the</strong> Association for Preservation<br />
Technology, Vol. 12, No. 3, 1980, pp. 28‐45<br />
24
legal and commercial documents compared to <strong>the</strong> private correspondence of<br />
Thomas Butler (1785‐1847), one of <strong>the</strong> greatest sugar and cotton plantation owners<br />
in <strong>the</strong> territories of Mississippi and Louisiana [Figure 14].<br />
Turner describes <strong>the</strong> interest in <strong>the</strong> flower gardens of <strong>the</strong> Butler family, in particular<br />
of <strong>the</strong> women, and outlines <strong>the</strong> choices which demonstrate an awareness of and<br />
attention to <strong>the</strong> creation of The Cottage <strong>landscape</strong>. She lingers on <strong>the</strong> documents<br />
which are a witness to <strong>the</strong> owner’s research and purchase of ornamental and fruit<br />
plants. Moreover, <strong>the</strong> results obtained suggest that, although <strong>the</strong>re were certainly<br />
differences in <strong>the</strong> agricultural crops and in <strong>the</strong> specific varieties of plants in <strong>the</strong><br />
Sou<strong>the</strong>rn States, ornamental horticulture in Mississippi and in Louisiana could<br />
compare with practice in <strong>the</strong> Nor<strong>the</strong>rn and Eastern States 37 .<br />
The well‐known <strong>landscape</strong> architect, Frederick Law Olmsted (1822‐1903), left us a<br />
significant description about life in <strong>the</strong> plantations and <strong>the</strong>ir <strong>landscape</strong>s. At <strong>the</strong> end<br />
of <strong>the</strong> 1850’s, Olmsted made a series of voyages in <strong>the</strong> Cotton Kingdom of America,<br />
leaving a detailed, sophisticated report, packed with naturalistic, botanical and<br />
agricultural observations, measurements and detailed architectural comments on<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s. Olmsted’s experiences describe and compare <strong>the</strong> organizational<br />
features of <strong>the</strong> agricultural businesses in various States, and naturally <strong>the</strong>y also<br />
investigate <strong>the</strong> botanical and naturalistic aspects of <strong>the</strong> gardens and <strong>the</strong> sections of<br />
<strong>the</strong> land he crossed:<br />
In <strong>the</strong> afternoon, I left <strong>the</strong> main road, and, towards night, reached a<br />
much more cultivated district. The forest of pines still extended<br />
uninterruptedly on one side of <strong>the</strong> way, but on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r was a<br />
continued succession of very large fields, of rich dark soil ‐ evidently<br />
reclaimed swamp‐land ‐ which had been cultivated <strong>the</strong> previous year, in<br />
Sea Island cotton. Beyond <strong>the</strong>m, a flat surface of still lower land, with a<br />
silver thread of water curling through it, extended, Holland‐like, to <strong>the</strong><br />
horizon. Usually at as great a distance as a quarter of a mile from <strong>the</strong><br />
road, and from half a mile to a mile apart, were <strong>the</strong> residences of <strong>the</strong><br />
planters ‐ white houses, with groves of evergreen trees about <strong>the</strong>m; and<br />
between <strong>the</strong>se and <strong>the</strong> road were little villages of slave‐cabins. My<br />
directions not having been sufficiently explicit, I rode in, by a private<br />
See also TURNER, Suzanne L., The Gardens of Louisiana: Places of Work and Wonder. Co‐author with<br />
A. J. Meek, photographer. Baton Rouge and London: LSU Press, 1997.<br />
37 This statement contrasts, as <strong>the</strong> author says, with <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>sis of HENDRICK, Ulysses Prentiss, A<br />
History of Horticulture in America to 1860, Oxford University Press, 1950<br />
25
lane, to one of <strong>the</strong>se. It consisted of some thirty neatly‐whitewashed<br />
cottages, with a broad avenue, planted with Pride‐of‐China trees<br />
between <strong>the</strong>m. The cottages were framed <strong>building</strong>s, boarded on <strong>the</strong><br />
outside, with shingle roof and brick chimneys; <strong>the</strong>y stood fifty feet apart,<br />
with gardens and pig‐yards, enclosed by palings, between <strong>the</strong>m. At one,<br />
which was evidently <strong>the</strong> "sick house," or hospital, <strong>the</strong>re were several<br />
negroes of both sexes, wrapped in blankets, and reclining on <strong>the</strong> door<br />
steps or on <strong>the</strong> ground, basking in <strong>the</strong> sunshine. 38<br />
Olmsted did not fail to refer to situations of town life and made remarks about <strong>the</strong><br />
planning of <strong>the</strong> towns he travelled through in his journeys.<br />
It was during <strong>the</strong>se explorations that his repulsion for slavery reached a climax, and<br />
he decided to document what he had seen and to encourage <strong>the</strong> anti‐slavery voices<br />
with <strong>the</strong> publication of his travel diary and <strong>the</strong> dispatches he had written for The<br />
Times, just as <strong>the</strong> Civil War broke out.<br />
The homes linked to <strong>the</strong> cultivation of <strong>the</strong> fields deserve a more detailed discussion.<br />
The architectural principles which inspired <strong>the</strong> plantation houses can be essentially<br />
traced back to two models, which were often merged toge<strong>the</strong>r according to eclectic<br />
criteria that expressed <strong>the</strong> overall taste of <strong>the</strong> owners.<br />
The first type was <strong>the</strong> Creole cottage 39 , used mainly for small <strong>building</strong>s [Figures 15‐<br />
16]. The main feature of Creole architecture was its special distribution system,<br />
where a kind of central hall, accessible from <strong>the</strong> front door, acted as walk‐through<br />
living room. Moreover, a fairly large portico, known as <strong>the</strong> galerie or gallery, not<br />
only protected <strong>the</strong> entrance, but also allowed <strong>the</strong> access to <strong>the</strong> internal rooms<br />
overlooking <strong>the</strong> main side. The <strong>building</strong>s were usually low and <strong>the</strong> gallery, which<br />
extended along <strong>the</strong> four sides of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>, was very frequently on a raised level<br />
and <strong>the</strong> house suspended above <strong>the</strong> ground.<br />
These <strong>building</strong>s correspond to <strong>the</strong> stereotyped image, probably of cinematographic<br />
origin, which we have of a house in <strong>the</strong> American Deep South in <strong>the</strong> nineteenth<br />
century: a one‐storey house, with whitewashed wood panelling, a veranda<br />
38 OLMSTED, Frederick Law, Journey in <strong>the</strong> Seaboard Slave States, New York, Dix & Edwards, London,<br />
Sampson Low, Son & Co., 1856, p. 416<br />
39 A study of Creole architecture is: EDWARS, Jay, D., “The Origins of Creole Architecture”, Winterthur<br />
Portfolio, Vol. 29, N. 2/3 (Summer‐Autumn, 1994), The University of Chicago Press, pp. 155‐189, and<br />
to see also LANCASTER, Clay, “The American Bungalow”, The Art Bulletin, Vol. 40, N. 3 (Sep. 1958),<br />
College Art Association, pp.239‐253<br />
26
overlooking <strong>the</strong> garden and <strong>the</strong> road and finally, slender columns supporting <strong>the</strong><br />
overhang, which gave shade to an old black man sitting on a rocking chair.<br />
The second architectural model was based on <strong>the</strong> new, neo‐classical, stylistic<br />
elements of American architecture, <strong>the</strong> so‐called federal‐style architecture 40 .<br />
References to this model date back to Italian Renaissance architecture and, in <strong>the</strong><br />
some cases, to <strong>the</strong> Greek model, which occasionally gave rise to questionable<br />
revivals.<br />
Used for <strong>building</strong>s which resembled more closely <strong>the</strong> cottages and <strong>the</strong> bungalows<br />
described above, this style was also used to celebrate <strong>the</strong> power and commercial<br />
achievement of <strong>the</strong> estate owner. The main feature of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s which adopted<br />
this specific architectural style was a large loggia on <strong>the</strong> main façade, almost an<br />
archetype common to Creole architecture. Instead, <strong>the</strong> façade stood out for <strong>the</strong> use<br />
of a giant sequence of columns, which gave unity and a stereometric structure to<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>, nearly always designed with two storeys and a possible attic or<br />
mansard. There are numerous, widespread examples of manor houses, which are<br />
significant for <strong>the</strong>ir architectural and/or <strong>landscape</strong> value, throughout <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn<br />
States. Louisiana, in particular, offers diversified situations:<br />
The Destrehan Plantation House, St. Charles Parish, Louisiana (1787‐90), <strong>the</strong><br />
Homeplace Plantation House, St. Charles Parish, Louisiana (1787) [Figure 17], Laura<br />
Plantation, Vacherie, Louisiana (1820), <strong>the</strong> Uncle Sam (Constancia) Plantation, St.<br />
James Parish, Louisiana (1829‐43) 41 [Figure 19], <strong>the</strong> Houmas House Plantation and<br />
Gardens, Burnside, Louisiana (1840), <strong>the</strong> San Francisco Plantation House, Garyville,<br />
Louisiana (1849‐56), <strong>the</strong> Dunleith Mansion, Natchez, Mississippi (1858).<br />
Among <strong>the</strong> many Louisiana <strong>landscape</strong>s, one of <strong>the</strong> most important is <strong>the</strong> Rosedown<br />
Plantation’s 42 , St. Francisville, (1835) [Figure 18]. The owner’s house of this<br />
plantation was conceived as <strong>the</strong> central element of a wide park‐garden (28 acres),<br />
40 See CRAIG, Lois A., The Federal Presence: Architecture, Politics and Symbol in United States<br />
Government Building, Cambridge, MIT Press, 1978<br />
41 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncle_Sam_Plantation , URL visited May 31, 2012<br />
42 See <strong>the</strong> bibliography and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> description and analysis in <strong>the</strong> National Historic Landmark<br />
nomination form by FRICKER, Donna and TURNER Suzanne: Link download:<br />
http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NHLS/Text/01000765.pdf URL visited May 31, 2012<br />
27
which recreated various formal situations influenced by <strong>the</strong> French, <strong>the</strong> English and<br />
<strong>the</strong> Italian [Figure 20].<br />
In his book Gardens and Historic Plants of <strong>the</strong> Antebellum South (2003), James<br />
Cothran describes some elements of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, common to various housing<br />
complexes of <strong>the</strong> plantations: "during <strong>the</strong> antebellum period, with few exceptions,<br />
sou<strong>the</strong>rners remained wedded to formality and <strong>the</strong> principles of geometric garden<br />
design that had prevailed throughout <strong>the</strong> colonial period. Not only did geometric<br />
elements fit within <strong>the</strong> context of a symmetrical house and garden plan, but<br />
formalized <strong>landscape</strong> features […] reflected a control over nature and served as a<br />
means of conveying wealth, taste and social prestige" 43 .<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> unquestionable icon of all <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> Old South is Oak<br />
Alley House (1837‐39) [Figure 26], designed in St. James Parish, Louisiana, by Gilbert<br />
Joseph Pilie on behalf of Jacques Telesphore Roman, a sugar cane planter and<br />
owner of <strong>the</strong> estate on <strong>the</strong> shore of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi River.<br />
The ground of <strong>the</strong> plantation is a long rectangle in shape, placed perpendicular to<br />
<strong>the</strong> river[Figures 22‐23]. This particular arrangement probably originated in <strong>the</strong><br />
“typical French pattern of long, narrow farms running back from <strong>the</strong> water’s<br />
edge” 44 . A 1764 map of Detroit, reproduced by Reps 45 in Town planning in Frontier<br />
America, shows <strong>the</strong> French system of subdivision of <strong>the</strong> land, as highlighted by<br />
some plots aligned along <strong>the</strong> river outside <strong>the</strong> small town. It was Reps himself who<br />
confirmed that <strong>the</strong> system was applied for <strong>the</strong> first time in Canada, to <strong>the</strong><br />
settlements along <strong>the</strong> Saint Lawrence River, and later around New Orleans, along<br />
<strong>the</strong> Mississippi River.<br />
In 1858, <strong>the</strong> use of this system to divide <strong>the</strong> land was verified by Norman’s Chart<br />
Of The Lower Mississippi River [Figure 21‐22], which highlighted <strong>the</strong> designation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> various plantations (usually cotton and sugar cane) and identified <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
ownership.<br />
43 FRICKER, and TURNER, “National Historic Landmark document”, p. 24: Link download:<br />
http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NHLS/Text/01000765.pdf URL visited May 31, 2012<br />
44 REPS, John William, Town Planning in Frontier America, Princeton, University Press, 1969 [first ed.<br />
1965] p. 86 (Italian translation by M. Terni, S. Magistretti, La costruzione dell’America urbana;<br />
introduction by Francesco Dal Co, Milano, Franco Angeli, 1976, p. 98)<br />
45 Ibid. p. 97. This drawing of Detroit is <strong>the</strong> earliest printed map of <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
28
The structure was <strong>the</strong> result of <strong>the</strong> settlers’ desire to have access to water, which<br />
was used for practical purposes and for transportation, since <strong>the</strong> road<br />
infrastructures were inadequate and entailed construction and maintenance costs.<br />
The relationship with <strong>the</strong> river economy and transport along <strong>the</strong> river banks<br />
determined <strong>the</strong> two <strong>landscape</strong>s being merged, and goes back to <strong>the</strong> original name<br />
of <strong>the</strong> place, Bon Séjour, a place name which hinted at a hospitality‐hotel<br />
destination of <strong>the</strong> installations which preceded <strong>the</strong> current <strong>building</strong>, or a simple,<br />
good omen for <strong>the</strong> drained marshlands and swamps.<br />
Whatever <strong>the</strong> case, <strong>the</strong> exceptionality of <strong>the</strong> place is created by <strong>the</strong> presence of<br />
numerous oak trees, Live Oak, (Quercus Virginiana), a native evergreen tree of <strong>the</strong><br />
South‐East of <strong>the</strong> United States. Probably planted at <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong><br />
eighteenth century during <strong>the</strong> first colonial installations, <strong>the</strong> trees already appeared<br />
as tall, luxurious plants at <strong>the</strong> time <strong>the</strong> main house was built. They were arranged<br />
on both sides of <strong>the</strong> 240 metre‐long (800 feet) drive from <strong>the</strong> river bank to <strong>the</strong><br />
house entrance to provide a spectacular, monumental scene [Figure 24]. The house<br />
was, <strong>the</strong>refore, built relatively close to <strong>the</strong> river, whereas <strong>the</strong> long strip of land<br />
extended through many kilometres of sugar cane in <strong>the</strong> swamps and cotton fields in<br />
<strong>the</strong> marsh‐free areas. The white neoclassical style <strong>building</strong> stands out against <strong>the</strong><br />
green <strong>landscape</strong>, among <strong>the</strong> lawns and <strong>the</strong> foliage of <strong>the</strong> trees covered with moss<br />
and lichens. The tall Doric columns along <strong>the</strong> entire perimeter of <strong>the</strong> house support<br />
a large hip roof and form a colonnade on <strong>the</strong> ground floor and a balcony, or gallery,<br />
on <strong>the</strong> first floor. The result is a screen, which allows nature to be seen beyond and<br />
creates an immediate relationship [Figure 25]. Enclosing a square‐shaped space, <strong>the</strong><br />
28 perimetral columns correlate directly with <strong>the</strong> oak trees encountered along <strong>the</strong><br />
drive, since <strong>the</strong>y replicate <strong>the</strong>ir number: a transformation of nature into<br />
architecture, “a momentary fusion of natural and tectonic orders” 46 .<br />
The numerous openings of <strong>the</strong> cubic volume enclosed under <strong>the</strong> large, sloping<br />
overhangs guarantee <strong>the</strong> continual and necessary change of air and <strong>the</strong> correct<br />
amount of light in <strong>the</strong> hot, Sou<strong>the</strong>rn climate, whereas <strong>the</strong> colour and <strong>the</strong> use of <strong>the</strong><br />
materials confer <strong>the</strong> house with a special luminosity to give it <strong>the</strong> appearance of a<br />
46 PLUMMER, Henry, The Potential House, Tokyo, A+U publishing, 1989, p. 49<br />
29
hazy bubble or a cloud, which has descended on <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn <strong>landscape</strong>. The<br />
horizontal progression of <strong>the</strong> project, less evident at first sight but highlighted by<br />
both <strong>the</strong> balustrade of <strong>the</strong> first‐storey gallery and by <strong>the</strong> enormous trabeation to<br />
close <strong>the</strong> giant order of façades, creates a strong spatial tension, notwithstanding<br />
<strong>the</strong> independent, autonomous shapes used [Figure 26].<br />
The significance of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> at Oak Alley House is well commented by Henry<br />
Plummer:<br />
While <strong>the</strong> house emanates in all directions through a permeable<br />
structure, <strong>the</strong> main axis of <strong>the</strong> site has been directionally shaped into an<br />
explosive shaft of energy. Tracing out <strong>the</strong> radius of a tight curve in <strong>the</strong><br />
Mississippi, which has made an arc around <strong>the</strong> front of <strong>the</strong> property, this<br />
line runs first from <strong>the</strong> river under a dramatic tunnel of oak trees, <strong>the</strong>n<br />
right through <strong>the</strong> main doors and hallway of <strong>the</strong> house, as well as <strong>the</strong><br />
upper veranda's balcony on <strong>the</strong> river world, out rear doors and through<br />
a less insistent alley of trees, and <strong>the</strong>n onward for over three miles along<br />
a farm road, under open skies and past neatly arrayed plots of sugar<br />
cane at ei<strong>the</strong>r side, to finally dissipate in an impassable Louisiana<br />
swamp. 47<br />
On top of <strong>the</strong> roof at treetop height is a terrace, acting as a belvedere and as an<br />
ideal watchtower, from which to contemplate nature and <strong>the</strong> surrounding fields.<br />
Oak Alley is <strong>the</strong> symbol of an aristocratic isolation from <strong>the</strong> city, <strong>the</strong> allegory of a<br />
rich landowning class, which was spending its final days with <strong>the</strong> impassive elegance<br />
of those who know <strong>the</strong>y are moving towards an inexorable decline.<br />
The significance of this large scale <strong>landscape</strong> in <strong>the</strong> vastness of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi Valley<br />
and of <strong>the</strong> lands of <strong>the</strong> Deep South highlights <strong>the</strong> complex intertwining of <strong>the</strong><br />
impulses of society, technology and politics of a specific, historical period.<br />
O<strong>the</strong>r recognizable elements of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> were <strong>the</strong> peculiar fencing, called<br />
warm‐fences or snake‐fences [Figure 42‐44]. Built with wooden poles or boards,<br />
<strong>the</strong>y edged <strong>the</strong> perimeter of <strong>the</strong> properties or <strong>the</strong> animal pens with <strong>the</strong>ir typical<br />
zigzag pattern. Particularly complex to make and requiring continual maintenance<br />
over <strong>the</strong> years, <strong>the</strong>se fences were constructed by taking advantage of <strong>the</strong> grooves<br />
and <strong>the</strong> superimposition of <strong>the</strong> poles to balance <strong>the</strong>m in an only apparently<br />
unstable way. Running for thousands of kilometres, <strong>the</strong>y were nearly completely<br />
47 Ibid. p. 48<br />
30
destroyed during <strong>the</strong> Civil War, because <strong>the</strong> soldiers saw <strong>the</strong>m as an easy source of<br />
firewood and a means to destroy <strong>the</strong> property borders of <strong>the</strong> large landowners 48 .<br />
At <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> Civil War nothing would go back to what he had been.<br />
During <strong>the</strong> spring and summer of 1875, Charles Nordhoff described in his letters to<br />
<strong>the</strong> newspaper, <strong>the</strong> New York Herald, <strong>the</strong> changes which had taken place in <strong>the</strong><br />
Sou<strong>the</strong>rn States and <strong>the</strong> attempts at economic reconstruction and reorganization.<br />
While visiting Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, North Carolina, and<br />
Georgia, he lists <strong>the</strong> results of his observations. As regards <strong>the</strong> state of Arkansas,<br />
“Arkansas, as viewed from a railroad car, is not a charming country to a Nor<strong>the</strong>rn<br />
eye. It seems to contain a good deal of thin and worthless land, and where you<br />
meet with cultivation <strong>the</strong> farms have a ragged and uncombed look, <strong>the</strong> farm<br />
<strong>building</strong>s are usually of a poor character, and very high fences show that stock is<br />
allowed to run wild. Fields are oftenest full of stumps; and in <strong>the</strong> cotton region<br />
"deadenings", or fields with girdled and decaying trees standing upon <strong>the</strong>m, give<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> a melancholy aspect.” 49<br />
Similar observations were made by Nordhoff concerning Louisiana, a State for<br />
which, as for <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs, he highlights <strong>the</strong> lack of skills of <strong>the</strong> new politicians:<br />
“Unfortunately <strong>the</strong> reconstructors of Louisiana have utterly failed in this. It was not<br />
only murder and personal outrage <strong>the</strong>y should have punished and repressed, but<br />
malversation in office, public robbery, bribery, fraud” 50 . Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, Nordhoff<br />
lingers over numerous evaluations of <strong>the</strong> rice and cotton plantation system, <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s linked with water and over <strong>the</strong> agricultural changes. He mentions, for<br />
instance, <strong>the</strong> systematic adoption of <strong>the</strong> cultivation of orange trees, which<br />
guaranteed good earnings.<br />
The years after <strong>the</strong> Civil War should, however, deserve a separate discussion. It is<br />
first of all important to note that a different logic was applied to <strong>the</strong> reconstruction<br />
of <strong>the</strong> towns and to <strong>the</strong> re‐opening of <strong>the</strong> estates after <strong>the</strong> destruction and neglect.<br />
48 An accurate description of <strong>the</strong> fences is in: JACKSON, John Brinckerhoff, American Space: <strong>the</strong><br />
Centennial Years, 1865‐1876, New York, W.W. Norton, 1972, pp. 64‐67 and 138‐19<br />
49 NORDHOFF, Charles, The Cotton States, in <strong>the</strong> Spring and Summer of 1875, New York, D. Appleton<br />
& Company, 1876, p. 37<br />
50 Ibid. p. 50<br />
31
Thus, we could define <strong>the</strong>se lands today as memory <strong>landscape</strong>s, because <strong>the</strong>y bear<br />
traces of something from a world which cannot be recreated and which certainly<br />
cannot be restricted to agricultural or horticultural and ornamental practices.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> plantations, so indissolubly linked to <strong>the</strong> country life, were places<br />
which inspired a wide range of literature, which spread <strong>the</strong> political positions and<br />
<strong>the</strong> cause of <strong>the</strong> anti‐slavery movement. Among <strong>the</strong>se publications, <strong>the</strong> best known<br />
is Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) by Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811‐1896), which had a<br />
great success and wide diffusion as a “protest novel”. It distinguished itself among<br />
<strong>the</strong> numerous novels printed at that time, both in favour and against slavery. The<br />
novel speaks of stereotyped characters, <strong>the</strong> good owner, <strong>the</strong> ignorant, affectionate<br />
slave (Uncle Tom) and <strong>the</strong> cruel slave‐driver. All <strong>the</strong> characters described by Stowe<br />
portray strong feelings and display every type of extreme human behaviour. The<br />
actions and manifestations from a wide sample of psyche occur in a melancholy<br />
script, heightened by a vein of predestination which marks <strong>the</strong> various protagonists.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> eve of <strong>the</strong> decline of <strong>the</strong> plantation system 51 , <strong>the</strong> pious loyalty of Uncle Tom<br />
is an appeal to non‐violence in a world dominated by prejudices, even though <strong>the</strong><br />
intention of <strong>the</strong> authoress was not directed against <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn states, but ra<strong>the</strong>r<br />
against slavery itself. It is Uncle Tom who gives us a touching description of his<br />
world as he sees it flow away from <strong>the</strong> pier of a Mississippi boat:<br />
The slanting light of <strong>the</strong> setting sun quivers on <strong>the</strong> sea‐like expanse of<br />
<strong>the</strong> river; <strong>the</strong> shivery canes, and <strong>the</strong> tall, dark cypress, hung with<br />
wreaths of dark, funereal moss, glow in <strong>the</strong> golden ray, as <strong>the</strong> heavilyladen<br />
steamboat marches onward. Piled with cotton‐bales, from many a<br />
plantation, up over deck and sides, till she seems in <strong>the</strong> distance a<br />
square massive block of gray, she moves heavily onward to <strong>the</strong> nearing<br />
mart. [...] For a hundred or more miles above New Orleans, <strong>the</strong> river is<br />
higher than <strong>the</strong> surrounding country, and rolls its tremendous volume<br />
between massive levees twenty feet in height. The traveller from <strong>the</strong><br />
deck of <strong>the</strong> steamer, as from some floating castle top, overlooks <strong>the</strong><br />
whole country for miles and miles around. Tom, <strong>the</strong>refore, had spread<br />
out full before him, in plantation after plantation, a map of <strong>the</strong> life to<br />
which he was approaching. He saw <strong>the</strong> distant slaves at <strong>the</strong>ir toil; he saw<br />
afar <strong>the</strong>ir villages of huts gleaming out in long rows on many a<br />
plantation, distant from <strong>the</strong> stately mansions and pleasure‐grounds of<br />
<strong>the</strong> master; and as <strong>the</strong> moving picture passed on, his poor, foolish heart<br />
51 See PHILLIPS, B. Ulrich, “The decadence of <strong>the</strong> Plantation System”, Annals of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
Academy of Political Social Science, Vol. 35, N. 1, The New South, 1910, pp. 37‐41<br />
32
would be turning backward to <strong>the</strong> Kentucky farm, with its old shadowy<br />
beeches, to <strong>the</strong> master's house, with its wide, cool halls, and, nearby,<br />
<strong>the</strong> little cabin overgrown with <strong>the</strong> multiflora and bignonia. There he<br />
seemed to see familiar faces of comrades who had grown up with him<br />
from infancy; he saw his busy wife, bustling in her preparations for his<br />
evening meals; he heard <strong>the</strong> merry laugh of his boys at <strong>the</strong>ir play, and<br />
<strong>the</strong> chirrup of <strong>the</strong> baby at his knee; and <strong>the</strong>n, with a start, all faded, and<br />
he saw again <strong>the</strong> canebrakes and cypresses and gliding plantations, and<br />
heard again <strong>the</strong> creaking and groaning of <strong>the</strong> machinery, all telling him<br />
too plainly that all that phase of life had gone by forever. 52<br />
These images will remain in Tom’s mind while he goes to meet his terrible destiny.<br />
The author leaves her readers with <strong>the</strong> idea of a world destined to die, which is<br />
dragging <strong>the</strong> agricultural <strong>landscape</strong>s and steamboats into <strong>the</strong> whirlpool of historic<br />
events.<br />
However, agricultural America, which had been inspired by Thomas Jefferson,<br />
developed different approaches in o<strong>the</strong>r areas of <strong>the</strong> country. It was Jefferson<br />
himself, attentive <strong>landscape</strong> lover as we have already seen in <strong>the</strong> Monticello<br />
project, who decided to implement o<strong>the</strong>r projects, such as <strong>the</strong> Poplar Forest<br />
plantation and house near Lynchburg, Virginia and <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia in<br />
Charlottesville, which symbolized a very strong man‐nature‐architecture<br />
relationship.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> project for Poplar Forest 53 [Figure 27], an estate of about 4,800 acres, we can<br />
assess <strong>the</strong> differences in approach with <strong>the</strong> plantations of <strong>the</strong> Deep South. The<br />
project lasted approximately ten years, from 1806, <strong>the</strong> year <strong>the</strong> work started to<br />
build <strong>the</strong> octagonal villa with bricks and which ended three years later. The<br />
architectural style used is neo‐Palladian and nature completes <strong>the</strong> house project<br />
according to a criterion which considers planning in terms of <strong>the</strong> territory [Figure<br />
28]. The house becomes <strong>the</strong> landmark which bestows a geometrical order to <strong>the</strong><br />
property, featuring three <strong>landscape</strong>d areas: <strong>the</strong> agricultural fields and a 61‐acre<br />
curtilage containing a wide circle with <strong>the</strong> house at its centre[Figure 29]. This<br />
52 STOWE BEECHER, Harriet, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, London, John Casseli, 1852, pp. 121‐122 (Italian<br />
translation by Beatrice Boffito, La capanna dello Zio Tom, Milano, BUR ragazzi, 2011, pp. 179‐181)<br />
53 See CHAMBERS, S. Allen Jr., Poplar Forest and Thomas Jefferson, Little Compton, Fort Church<br />
Publishers inc, 1993<br />
33
particular scheme, as witnessed by <strong>the</strong> fascinating hypo<strong>the</strong>sis of Roger Kennedy 54 ,<br />
seems to derive from some ear<strong>the</strong>n American Indian "monuments" and tumuli<br />
(mounds) placed on a precise territorial scale 55 [Figures 30‐32]. Besides, <strong>the</strong><br />
architectural project of <strong>the</strong> house was completely original. Its octagonal shape<br />
expresses <strong>the</strong> radiality of <strong>the</strong> space and <strong>the</strong> multiple relationships it establishes with<br />
its surroundings [Figure 33]. There are two earth mounds on both sides of <strong>the</strong><br />
house along an axis acting as <strong>the</strong> diameter of <strong>the</strong> circular design of <strong>the</strong> ground,<br />
covered with trees and connected with <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> via a double line of paper<br />
mulberry trees. An analysis of <strong>the</strong> drawings suggests that Jefferson replaced <strong>the</strong> side<br />
wings and pavilions of <strong>the</strong> traditional design with natural elements. 56<br />
The agricultural fields, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, were cultivated with tobacco and wheat,<br />
whereas <strong>the</strong> snake‐fenced curtilage contained vegetable gardens, orchards, flower<br />
gardens and <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s related to <strong>the</strong> plantation. The curtilage, in o<strong>the</strong>r words,<br />
represented <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> acting as a mediator between <strong>the</strong> open countryside and<br />
<strong>the</strong> owner's house. The circle with <strong>the</strong> house enclosing an area of approximately 10<br />
acres was surrounded by a road lined on both sides by Italian poplars. The half with<br />
<strong>the</strong> access road leading to <strong>the</strong> house entrance contained a garden with trees, <strong>the</strong><br />
o<strong>the</strong>r half a lawn [Figure 29] .<br />
Today, only fragments damaged by time remain of this complex <strong>landscape</strong> made of<br />
land rooms designed as Chinese boxes. Never<strong>the</strong>less, both <strong>the</strong> house and <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, subjected to "archaeological" excavations for study and research<br />
purposes, have been restored.<br />
54 KENNEDY Roger, “Jefferson and <strong>the</strong> Indians”, Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 27, No. 2/3 (Summer ‐<br />
Autumn, 1992), The University of Chicago Press, pp. 105‐121<br />
55 Very interesting is this analysis by Joseph Rykwert: “The Puritans who arrived in New England in <strong>the</strong><br />
seventeenth century and <strong>the</strong> royalists who settled in Virginia had meagre ideas about <strong>building</strong> or<br />
planning or institutions. The Indians of North America, however, unlike those of Central and South<br />
America, had not only built orthogonal settlements but large collective dwellings –mounds‐ which<br />
are strewn over a vast area south of <strong>the</strong> Great Lakes. These mounds were up to a thousand feet in<br />
length or diameter and <strong>the</strong>y were of a very different plan: some were square or circular, o<strong>the</strong>rs in<br />
<strong>the</strong> shape of birds or quadrupeds or serpents. They seem of <strong>the</strong> Plains, whom <strong>the</strong> Europeans settlers<br />
did encounter, were mostly nomadic, though perhaps descended from <strong>the</strong> mound builder. At any<br />
rate, <strong>the</strong>se settlers never took any interest in <strong>the</strong> mounds, and certainly never considered taking<br />
<strong>the</strong>m over”, published in RYKWERT, Joseph, The seduction of Place. The History and Future of <strong>the</strong><br />
City, New York, pp. 34‐35 (Italian translation by Duccio Sacchi, La seduzione del luogo. Storia e futuro<br />
della città, Torino, Einaudi, 2003, pp. 61‐62)<br />
56 In 1814 Jefferson builds a lateral wing of “offices” in addition to <strong>the</strong> east side of mansion house.<br />
34
Jefferson, who considered himself a professional farmer 57 , insisted in favour of<br />
agricultural economy and local autonomy, understood as productive self‐reliance on<br />
<strong>the</strong> land, and with his dislike of <strong>the</strong> development of industry was <strong>the</strong> first American<br />
to openly express a kind of repulsion for <strong>the</strong> city 58 . According to Manfredo Tafuri,<br />
Jefferson represented <strong>the</strong> "ambiguous conscience of <strong>the</strong> American intellectuals" 59 ,<br />
due to his fear of accepting <strong>the</strong> passage from an old to a new social order: for this<br />
reason his is a utopia, “even though not an avant‐garde one, but as a rear‐guard<br />
one […]. The utopia of Jefferson <strong>the</strong> architect becomes <strong>the</strong> <br />
of his Classicism” 60 .<br />
The agricultural development in <strong>the</strong> North of <strong>the</strong> country was a different case. The<br />
expansion of <strong>the</strong> plantations did not celebrate <strong>the</strong> aristocratic agricultural<br />
democracy by using <strong>the</strong> classical shapes of Jefferson's architecture. In fact, it<br />
became evident after <strong>the</strong> Civil War that <strong>the</strong> plantations in <strong>the</strong> North and in <strong>the</strong> Mid‐<br />
West, which had been explored in <strong>the</strong> first decades of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, were<br />
an indirect achievement of an entrepreneurial and commercial spirit, which relied<br />
on <strong>the</strong> resources of <strong>the</strong> rising American cities.<br />
Since <strong>the</strong> initial attempts to set up settlements, <strong>the</strong> first agricultural villages in <strong>the</strong><br />
North were idealized as refuges of religious tolerance without, however, having<br />
utopian connotations. Those who settled <strong>the</strong>re did not want to experiment a new<br />
model of social behaviour, <strong>the</strong>y did so simply to stay <strong>the</strong>re. This attitude also<br />
explains <strong>the</strong>ir agricultural experiments and <strong>the</strong> diffusion of horticulture, all of which<br />
57 In 1809 Jefferson draws a particular model of a plow called improved moldboard of least resistance.<br />
This project will receive a medal from <strong>the</strong> French Society of Agriculture.<br />
58 See WHITE, Morton Gabriel, WHITE, Lucia, The intellectual versus <strong>the</strong> city: from Thomas Jefferson<br />
to Lloyd Wright, Cambridge, Harvard University press, 1962; FITCH, James Marston, Architecture and<br />
aes<strong>the</strong>tics of plenty, London, Columbia University press, 1966; SCULLY, Vincent J., American<br />
architecture and urbanism, London, Thames & Hudson, 1969 (Italian translation Architettura e<br />
disegno urbano in America: un dialogo fra generazioni, introduzione di Mario Manieri Elia, Roma,<br />
Officina, 1971)<br />
59 TAFURI, Manfredo, Progetto e utopia, architettura e sviluppo capitalistico, Roma‐Bari, Laterza 2007<br />
(prima ed. 1973) p. 28, (English translation by Barbara Luigia La Penta, Architecture and Utopia.<br />
Design and Capitalistic Development, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London, England, The MIT<br />
Press, 1976, p.28)<br />
60 Ibid. p. 28‐29<br />
35
certainly encouraged <strong>the</strong> ambition of many religious sects to recreate <strong>the</strong> Garden of<br />
Eden here on Earth 61 .<br />
A certain narrow‐mindedness of <strong>the</strong> sects, <strong>the</strong>ir considerable fragmentation and <strong>the</strong><br />
radicalism of <strong>the</strong> ideals expressed by some of <strong>the</strong>m, all led to less widespread<br />
slavery. Letters from an American Farmer (1782) by J. Hector St. John de Crèvecœur<br />
(1735‐1813), a naturalized French‐American writer, described for <strong>the</strong> first time <strong>the</strong><br />
life of <strong>the</strong>se farmers of <strong>the</strong> American frontier. Crèvecœur spoke in great detail of<br />
<strong>the</strong> customs, <strong>the</strong> climate, <strong>the</strong> plants and <strong>the</strong> animals, <strong>the</strong> villages and <strong>the</strong> Native<br />
Americans, interpreting <strong>the</strong> main questions about America. His comment on <strong>the</strong>se<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s draws <strong>the</strong> attention to <strong>the</strong> best aspects <strong>the</strong> countryside can offer, and in<br />
particular he lingers on agriculture as a means to belong to <strong>the</strong> Land and as a tool<br />
for <strong>the</strong> ideology of <strong>the</strong> homeland.<br />
Questioning <strong>the</strong> essence of <strong>the</strong> American man, he <strong>the</strong>orized probably <strong>the</strong> first<br />
educated version of <strong>the</strong> American dream:<br />
What attachment can a poor European emigrant have for a country<br />
where he had nothing? The knowledge of <strong>the</strong> language, <strong>the</strong> love of a<br />
few kindred as poor as himself, were <strong>the</strong> only cords that tied him: his<br />
country is now that which gives him land, bread, protection, and<br />
consequence: Ubi panis ibi patria is <strong>the</strong> motto of all emigrants.<br />
What <strong>the</strong>n is <strong>the</strong> American, this new man?<br />
He is ei<strong>the</strong>r a European, or <strong>the</strong> descendant of a European, hence that<br />
strange mixture of blood, which you will find in no o<strong>the</strong>r country. I could<br />
point out to you a family whose grandfa<strong>the</strong>r was an Englishman, whose<br />
wife was Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose<br />
present four sons have now four wives of different nations. He is an<br />
American, who, leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and<br />
manners, receives new ones from <strong>the</strong> new mode of life he has<br />
embraced, <strong>the</strong> new government he obeys, and <strong>the</strong> new rank he holds.<br />
He becomes an American by being received in <strong>the</strong> broad lap of our great<br />
Alma Mater. Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of<br />
men, whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in<br />
61 Rykwert wrote “Whatever <strong>the</strong>ir religious or political beliefs, <strong>the</strong>y [all <strong>the</strong>se religious groups,<br />
editor’s note] did have one thing in common: <strong>the</strong>ir towns and villages were intended to last, and that<br />
made many of <strong>the</strong>se settlers model agriculturalists and horticulturalists; since some felt that <strong>the</strong>y<br />
were recreating paradise on Earth –a garden of Eden‐ <strong>the</strong>y became very assiduous orchard keepers.<br />
This was in strong contrast to <strong>the</strong> more secular farmers who, in moving slowly westward, practiced a<br />
form of slash‐and‐burn cultivation, and relied on <strong>the</strong> resale value of <strong>the</strong>ir exhausted land for profit to<br />
bolster any income <strong>the</strong>y might obtain from <strong>the</strong>ir farm produce”, published in RYKWERT, Joseph, The<br />
seduction of Place. The History and Future of <strong>the</strong> City, New York, p. 55 (Italian translation by Duccio<br />
Sacchi, La seduzione del luogo. Storia e futuro della città, Torino, Einaudi, 2003 pp. 67‐72)<br />
36
<strong>the</strong> world. Americans are <strong>the</strong> western pilgrims, who are carrying along<br />
with <strong>the</strong>m that great mass of arts, sciences, vigour, and industry which<br />
began long since in <strong>the</strong> east; <strong>the</strong>y will finish <strong>the</strong> great circle. The<br />
Americans were once scattered all over Europe; here <strong>the</strong>y are<br />
incorporated into one of <strong>the</strong> finest systems of population which has ever<br />
appeared, and which will hereafter become distinct by <strong>the</strong> power of <strong>the</strong><br />
different climates <strong>the</strong>y inhabit. The American ought <strong>the</strong>refore to love<br />
this country much better than that wherein ei<strong>the</strong>r he or his forefa<strong>the</strong>rs<br />
were born. Here <strong>the</strong> rewards of his industry follow with equal steps <strong>the</strong><br />
progress of his labour; his labour is founded on <strong>the</strong> basis of nature, selfinterest.<br />
62<br />
This was to become <strong>the</strong> ideal base, on which multiple developments occurred in <strong>the</strong><br />
horticultural techniques and revolutionary technological inventions in agriculture.<br />
First of all, <strong>the</strong> scientific literature diffused knowledge about <strong>the</strong>se matters and that<br />
stimulates <strong>the</strong> debate among <strong>the</strong> main reference groups placed between <strong>the</strong> cities<br />
of Philadelphia and Boston.<br />
On his return from Lewis and Clark’s expedition (1804‐1806) to explore <strong>the</strong><br />
territories of Louisiana, Bernard McMahon 63 (1775‐1816), mentor of <strong>the</strong> gardening<br />
practices of Thomas Jefferson, published The American Gardner’s Calendar, a<br />
detailed compendium about gardening, horticulture and floriculture, giving precise<br />
instructions, differentiated according to <strong>the</strong> plants, practices and uses.<br />
In an attempt to combine botanical science with practical horticulture, his declared<br />
intention was:<br />
[...]in order to accommodate <strong>the</strong> Agriculturist, I have given a classical<br />
catalogue of <strong>the</strong> most important and valuable grasses and o<strong>the</strong>r plants<br />
used in rural economy; and likewise pointed out <strong>the</strong> particular kind of<br />
soil, in which each plant cultivated as a grass, or exclusively on account<br />
of its foliage, has been found, upon repeated trials, to succeed best.<br />
From an experience which I have had of near thirty years in PRACTICAL<br />
GARDENING, on a general and extensive scale; <strong>the</strong> particular pains<br />
which I have taken, not only to designate <strong>the</strong> necessary work of every<br />
month, but also <strong>the</strong> best methods of performing it; 64<br />
62 ST. JOHN DE CREVECOEUR, J. Hector, Letters from an American Farmer, London, J.M. Dent & Sons<br />
Ltd., 1951 (first ed. 1782) cit. p. 43‐44<br />
63 HATCH, Peter, http://www.monticello.org/site/house‐and‐gardens/bernard‐mcmahon URL visited<br />
28 May 2012; Article originally published as "Bernard McMahon, Pioneer American<br />
Gardener," Twinleaf, January 1993<br />
64 MAC MAHON, Bernard, The American Gardner’s Calendar, adapted to <strong>the</strong> climate and season of<br />
<strong>the</strong> United States, Philadelphia, J.B. Lippincott and Co., 1857 (first ed. 1806)<br />
37
In addition to being <strong>the</strong> first practical manual on <strong>the</strong> subject to be published in<br />
America, The American Gardner’s Calendar achieved a wide success and by 1857 it<br />
had reached its eleventh edition and was <strong>the</strong> benchmark for <strong>the</strong> numerous<br />
publications in <strong>the</strong> sector.<br />
Ano<strong>the</strong>r manual, entitled A View of <strong>the</strong> Cultivation of Fruit Trees, and <strong>the</strong><br />
Management of Orchards and Cider, a work by William Coxe, was printed in<br />
Philadelphia in 1817. Among <strong>the</strong> various illustrated trees and fruits, Coxe lingered<br />
specifically on <strong>the</strong> apples, listing and describing a good 133 different types.<br />
Moreover, he enlarged on pragmatic information about how to plant an orchard,<br />
evidence that this was practiced ra<strong>the</strong>r frequently, that <strong>the</strong> information answered<br />
real needs, and that a series of experiments were under way:<br />
A south east aspect, which admits <strong>the</strong> influence of <strong>the</strong> early morning<br />
Sun, and is protected from <strong>the</strong> pernicious effects of nor<strong>the</strong>rly winds, will<br />
be found <strong>the</strong> best site for an orchard. The situation should he nei<strong>the</strong>r<br />
too high nor too low. Rich strong loams are <strong>the</strong> fittest for <strong>the</strong> apple a<br />
portion of calcareous matter mixed, ei<strong>the</strong>r naturally or artificially with<br />
<strong>the</strong> soil, will be found useful, probably by its serving to correct <strong>the</strong><br />
austerity, or to neutralize <strong>the</strong> acidity of many cider apples […] The first<br />
thing to be determined upon in <strong>the</strong> planting of an orchard, is <strong>the</strong> proper<br />
distance of <strong>the</strong> trees: if a mere fruit plantation be <strong>the</strong> object, <strong>the</strong><br />
distance may be small if <strong>the</strong> cultivation of grain and grass be in view, <strong>the</strong><br />
space between <strong>the</strong> trees must be wider: at thirty feet apart, an acre will<br />
contain forty‐eight trees; at thirty‐five feet, thirty‐five trees; at forty<br />
feet, twenty‐seven trees; and at fifty feet, about eighteen to <strong>the</strong> acre<br />
<strong>the</strong>se are <strong>the</strong> usual distances. 65<br />
Among <strong>the</strong> settlements dedicated to <strong>the</strong> cultivation of <strong>the</strong> land in <strong>the</strong> regions of <strong>the</strong><br />
Atlantic North East of <strong>the</strong> United States were those of <strong>the</strong> Shaker community,<br />
practically non‐existent today with <strong>the</strong> exception of a few individuals, who continue<br />
to live in <strong>the</strong> village of Sabbath Lake, Maine, founded in 1794. The Shakers 66 [Figure<br />
34], or ra<strong>the</strong>r, The United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, who<br />
were persecuted in England, moved to America (1774) guided by mo<strong>the</strong>r Ann Lee<br />
65 COXE, William, A View of <strong>the</strong> Cultivation of Fruit Trees, and <strong>the</strong> Management of Orchards and Cider,<br />
Philadelphia, Carey and Son, 1817, pp. 30‐33<br />
66 The Shakers are so called because of <strong>the</strong> ecstatic nature of <strong>the</strong>ir spiritual exercises (dance)<br />
38
(1736‐1784), <strong>the</strong> founder of <strong>the</strong> sect, in order to escape prejudice and<br />
discrimination. This was a group of individuals, who believed in a kind of mysticism<br />
based on a public confession of sins, on celibacy, equal rights and responsibilities for<br />
men and women and on <strong>the</strong> sacredness of <strong>the</strong> craft and agricultural work 67 . In<br />
addition to <strong>the</strong>ir religious precepts, <strong>the</strong>y also practiced mutual help, a kind of<br />
primitive communism, a direct reflection of <strong>the</strong> hostilities and suspicions <strong>the</strong>y<br />
encountered.<br />
An analysis of <strong>the</strong> Shaker communities, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> similar attempts made in<br />
lay utopian experiments, highlights <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong> latter often had a short life. On<br />
<strong>the</strong> contrary, <strong>the</strong> Shakers expanded <strong>the</strong>ir properties and just before <strong>the</strong> start of <strong>the</strong><br />
Civil War numbered approximately 6,000 individuals, organized in numerous selfsufficient<br />
communities. The first settlement, “<strong>the</strong> first to be formally ‘ga<strong>the</strong>red into<br />
a society order” 68 , is commonly believed to be New Leabanon 69 (c. 1787) [Figure<br />
36], New York, or Mount Lebanon as it was renamed after 1861, and was created<br />
thanks to a donation of some land by a group of believers.<br />
The settlements of Watervliet (c. 1787) and Hancock (c. 1790) located respectively<br />
in <strong>the</strong> States of New York and Massachusetts, territories that boast <strong>the</strong> largest<br />
presence of Shaker communities, followed in its footsteps. Later, numerous villages<br />
were also set up in New Hampshire, Maine, Kentucky and Ohio.<br />
Some of <strong>the</strong>se villages were given charming, spiritual names, such as “Lovely<br />
Vineyard” (Shirley, Massachusetts) or “Pleasant Garden” (Harvard, Massachusetts),<br />
which not only suggested ideals of pastoral peace and underlined <strong>the</strong> importance of<br />
<strong>the</strong> relationship between man and nature, but also indicated <strong>the</strong> distinctive<br />
features of <strong>the</strong> places.<br />
This particular aspect also fascinated <strong>the</strong> transcendentalist philosophers of <strong>the</strong> time<br />
to such an extent that Amos Bronson Alcott, <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r of Louisa May Alcott, and<br />
67 DESROCHE, Henri, Les shakers americains: d’un néo‐christianisme à un pré‐socialisme? Paris,<br />
Minuit, 1955 [The American Shakers: from neo‐Christianity to pre‐Socialism?], (Italian translation Gli<br />
Shakers <strong>american</strong>i: da un neocristianesimo a un presocialismo, Milan, Edizioni di Comunità, 1960)<br />
68 SCHIFFER, Herbert, Shaker architecture, Exton, Penns., Schiffer Publishing, 1979, p. 7<br />
69 For <strong>the</strong> history of shaker architecture: ROCHELEAU, Paul, SPRIGG, June, Shaker built: <strong>the</strong> form and<br />
function of Shaker architecture; edited and designed by David Larkin, London, Thames and Hudson,<br />
1994; LASSITER, William Lawrence, Shaker architecture: description with photographs and drawings<br />
of shaker <strong>building</strong>s at Mount Lebanon, New York, Watervliet, New York, West Pittsfield,<br />
Massachusetts, New York, Bonanza Books, 1966<br />
39
Charles Lane founded a village named Fruitlands (1843 Harvard, Massachusetts). It<br />
was a community experiment lasting barely a few months and was inspired by <strong>the</strong><br />
Shakers’ ideals of life and influenced by <strong>the</strong> diffusion of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories of <strong>the</strong> utopian<br />
socialists, which were also ra<strong>the</strong>r widespread at <strong>the</strong> time. However <strong>the</strong> Shaker<br />
villages differed from <strong>the</strong> lay communities and from <strong>the</strong> utopian attempts, both for<br />
<strong>the</strong> finished quality of <strong>the</strong>ir architecture and for <strong>the</strong>ir attempt to form a relationship<br />
with nature according to a precise scheme [Figure 35]. This was underlined by <strong>the</strong><br />
care, with which <strong>the</strong> members of <strong>the</strong> sect cultivated <strong>the</strong>ir gardens and fields and<br />
manufactured items of daily use and pieces of furniture 70 .<br />
These typical forms of settlements rarely copied <strong>the</strong> European, aggregative<br />
schemes, since <strong>the</strong>y privileged <strong>the</strong> distance between <strong>building</strong>s and <strong>the</strong>ir relationship<br />
with <strong>the</strong> road [Figure 37‐38]. The documents, which have been handed down to us<br />
regarding <strong>the</strong>ir planning activities are very few, and just as little is known about <strong>the</strong><br />
architects and carpenters, such as Moses Johnson (1752‐1842) or Micajah Burnett<br />
(1791‐?), who designed and constructed some of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s of various villages.<br />
The functional town planning scheme adopted in <strong>the</strong> first settlement of Mount<br />
Lebanon [Figure 36], toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> typical shape of <strong>the</strong> rural <strong>building</strong>s with a<br />
curb roof, were <strong>the</strong> elements which were repeated in all <strong>the</strong> Shaker villages.<br />
The meeting house, a <strong>building</strong> of central importance for <strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> community,<br />
was built along <strong>the</strong> road. It featured a rectangular floor plan with two separate<br />
entrances for men and women, situated on <strong>the</strong> long side of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>.<br />
The service <strong>building</strong>s, such as <strong>the</strong> laundry, a barn, various workshops, <strong>the</strong> school,<br />
and <strong>the</strong> office were built around <strong>the</strong> meeting house, which represented <strong>the</strong> first<br />
"family", usually called <strong>the</strong> Church or Center Family. When <strong>the</strong> community<br />
expanded, <strong>the</strong>y built a different group, separated from <strong>the</strong> first and called Second<br />
Family or South Family, using <strong>the</strong> remaining compass points in case of fur<strong>the</strong>r<br />
expansions.<br />
70 Joseph Rykwert wrote: “[…] <strong>the</strong> fine, spare <strong>building</strong>s and <strong>the</strong> equally spare but very well made<br />
furniture and household objects are testimony to a century and a half of productive activity. Their<br />
conviction that each believer is a , and <strong>the</strong>ir practice of ,<br />
show <strong>the</strong> importance <strong>the</strong>y attached to <strong>the</strong> formal discipline of <strong>the</strong>ir designs as a part of religious<br />
practice”, published in RYKWERT, Joseph, The seduction of Place. The History and Future of <strong>the</strong> City,<br />
New York, p. 55 (Italian translation by Duccio Sacchi, La seduzione del luogo. Storia e futuro della<br />
città, Torino, Einaudi, 2003, p. 70)<br />
40
Tidy, mainly horizontal, board fencing arranged enclosed <strong>the</strong> vegetable and flower<br />
gardens, separating <strong>the</strong> spaces around <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s from <strong>the</strong> open countryside and<br />
from <strong>the</strong> road [Figures 35 and 37]. Herbert Schiffer wrote about <strong>the</strong> design of<br />
Shaker villages: “<strong>the</strong>se communities which now seem in some respect models of<br />
modern planning ‐ including such concepts as <strong>the</strong> clustering of dwelling and service<br />
<strong>building</strong>s in small groups to locate <strong>the</strong> proper balance of activity and privacy and to<br />
<strong>the</strong> optimum use of <strong>the</strong> surrounding land ‐ evolved as a result of <strong>the</strong> Shaker<br />
demand for order and efficiency” 71 .<br />
The village of Hancock [Figure 40], besides complying with <strong>the</strong> general features<br />
described above, is famous for its industrious inhabitants, who had contributed to<br />
make it (and its economy) prosperous over <strong>the</strong> years, with approximately 300<br />
inhabitants and 3,000 acres of land by about 1830. The Round Stone Barn (1826,<br />
<strong>the</strong> roof of which was rebuilt in 1864 following a fire, with alterations made to <strong>the</strong><br />
original design of <strong>the</strong> roof) is <strong>the</strong> most famous <strong>building</strong> in <strong>the</strong> village [Figure 39]. 90<br />
feet in diameter, it could contain up to 52 dairy cows. It was used for a large<br />
agricultural machine and for breeding <strong>the</strong> animals. It enabled <strong>the</strong> operations of hay<br />
storage to be easily carried out, and protected <strong>the</strong> stock of hay by means of<br />
carefully studied natural ventilation. It not only allowed simultaneous access to<br />
different levels of <strong>the</strong> structure, but also enabled <strong>the</strong> hay to be moved from <strong>the</strong><br />
upper levels directly into <strong>the</strong> mangers of <strong>the</strong> cows on <strong>the</strong> lower level. Its circular<br />
shape also enabled horse‐drawn carriages to enter without having to make<br />
complicated manoeuvres to get out of <strong>the</strong> cowshed. Finally, a special "floating"<br />
floor too had been studied to keep <strong>the</strong> animals separated from <strong>the</strong> manure, which<br />
was store, collected through special trapdoors and <strong>the</strong>n used as fertilizer in <strong>the</strong><br />
vegetable and flower gardens, where <strong>the</strong>y cultivated seeds and aromatic and<br />
medicinal herbs [Figure 41].<br />
Wood, stone and bricks were <strong>the</strong> main materials of <strong>the</strong> various <strong>building</strong>s, which also<br />
acted as landmarks, since <strong>the</strong>y could be identified by <strong>the</strong>ir colour. The rules of <strong>the</strong><br />
Millennial Law of 1821, a programmatic document which set <strong>the</strong> internal behaviour<br />
rules of <strong>the</strong> Shaker community, also supplied numerous regulations to be followed<br />
71 SCHIFFER, Herbert, Shaker architecture, Exton, Penns., Schiffer Publishing, 1979, p. 8<br />
41
in <strong>the</strong> construction of <strong>building</strong>s, <strong>the</strong> use of colours and in <strong>the</strong> manufacturing of<br />
objects and furnishings.<br />
The main red brick dormitory, built in 1830, stood out not only for <strong>the</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tic<br />
quality of its interiors, but also for <strong>the</strong> use of innovative, technological solutions to<br />
improve its comfort. These included windows placed on ceilings or on internal walls<br />
to light and ventilate all <strong>the</strong> rooms, running water inside and built‐in, sliding<br />
cupboards, such as dumbwaiters, etc. The o<strong>the</strong>r <strong>building</strong>s were laboratories, in<br />
which <strong>the</strong>y manufactured items with <strong>the</strong> typical, functional, geometric design, such<br />
as chairs, baskets, brooms, swifts, pails, stoves and tin‐ware.<br />
Outside <strong>the</strong>se communities, however, yet more different <strong>landscape</strong>s were just<br />
beyond <strong>the</strong> horizon. Parallel to <strong>the</strong> flourishing of <strong>the</strong> first agricultural experiences<br />
by <strong>the</strong> religious sects, technology started to replace traditional tools with time and<br />
labour‐saving equipment and machinery for <strong>the</strong> most common and important<br />
agricultural operations. A true revolution took place in <strong>the</strong> techniques to exploit <strong>the</strong><br />
fields. These combined with <strong>the</strong> multiplication of publications for <strong>the</strong> sector, which<br />
in turn encouraged <strong>the</strong> practice and <strong>the</strong> diffusion of horticulture, as mentioned<br />
previously.<br />
In 1837, John Deere (1804‐1886), <strong>the</strong> man who gave his name to a famous company<br />
for agricultural machinery still in operation today, invented a plough completely<br />
made of steel 72 , which was an improvement over <strong>the</strong> wooden plough and was able<br />
to cut and overturn <strong>the</strong> water‐soaked clods full of roots, typical of <strong>the</strong> untouched<br />
fields of <strong>the</strong> Illinois prairies. In <strong>the</strong> early years, his company produced a ra<strong>the</strong>r<br />
modest number of ploughs: 10 ploughs in 1839, 75 in 1841, 400 in 1843.<br />
About ten years after production had begun, he moved to Moline, Illinois, where he<br />
founded a factory using hydraulic force, and with new mechanical improvements<br />
<strong>the</strong> yearly number of ploughs reached 13,400 in 1857. In <strong>the</strong> final decades of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century, <strong>the</strong> small plough had given rise to a thriving industrial activity<br />
and had transformed <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> Mid‐West prairies, cultivated mainly<br />
with cereals. The company catalogue (see page 268) for 1898 had over 350 pages,<br />
72 There are some different <strong>the</strong>ses about <strong>the</strong> materials and <strong>the</strong> history of Deere’s plough: KENDALL,<br />
Edward C., “John Deere’s steel plow”, Bulletin (United States National Museum) Contributions from<br />
<strong>the</strong> Museum of History and Technology, Smithsonian Institution, 1959, pp.15‐25<br />
42
which displayed hundreds of pieces of equipment, machinery, mills, tools, spare<br />
parts, carriages, and naturally multiple types of ploughs, some of <strong>the</strong>m<br />
programmatically named “New Deal”, <strong>the</strong> ultimate objective of <strong>the</strong> well‐known<br />
policy of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, implemented between 1933 and 1937.<br />
In Virginia in 1831, Cyrus H. McCormick invented <strong>the</strong> mechanical harvester, a light,<br />
horse‐drawn, wooden structure, but <strong>the</strong> model was to be perfected in Chicago in<br />
<strong>the</strong> 1840’s. The historian, Maldwyn Jones, confirms <strong>the</strong> importance of this event<br />
“[…] in <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> wheat belt, and, thanks also to his business skills, he was<br />
able to defeat a rival who had independently perfected a similar machine. In 1860<br />
McCormick was able to manufacture 20,000 harvesters per year. Almost at <strong>the</strong><br />
same time, similar innovations improved threshing […]”. 73<br />
In <strong>the</strong> years immediately after <strong>the</strong> Civil War, all <strong>the</strong>se technological transformations<br />
and innovations had created <strong>the</strong> extraordinary agricultural <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong><br />
bonanza farms 74 , cereal cultivations which extended for hundreds of kilometres<br />
along <strong>the</strong> shores of <strong>the</strong> Nor<strong>the</strong>rn Red River, in an extremely fertile geographical<br />
area. From an architectural point of view, <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> prairies was<br />
dominated by typical wooden <strong>building</strong>s. The invention of <strong>the</strong> balloon frame in <strong>the</strong><br />
1830’s completely changed <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> techniques and <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong><br />
during <strong>the</strong> settlement of <strong>the</strong> West 75 . The construction of homes became an<br />
industry which replaced <strong>the</strong> small log cabins built by <strong>the</strong> pioneers, as well as <strong>the</strong><br />
more imposing, costly masonry <strong>building</strong>s.<br />
Sigfried Giedion identifies <strong>the</strong> inventor of <strong>the</strong> balloon frame in George Washington<br />
Snow 76 (1797‐1870), even though <strong>the</strong> phenomenon has to be set in a wider context,<br />
73 Numeric data and quotation from JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History<br />
1607‐1992, London, Oxford University Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] cit. p. 1 (Italian translation Storia<br />
degli Stati Uniti d’ America. Dalle prime colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milano, Bompiani 2011, p.<br />
111)<br />
74 JACKSON, John Brinckeroff, American Space: <strong>the</strong> Centennial Years, 1865‐1876, New York, W.W.<br />
Norton, 1972, pp. 49‐55<br />
75 On <strong>the</strong> diffusion and knowledge of <strong>the</strong> construction system in <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century<br />
see: WOODWARD, George Eveston and F.W., Country Homes, New York, 1865<br />
76 See GIEDION, Sigfried, Space, TIme and Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Harvard<br />
University Press, 1954 (first ed. 1941)(Italian translation edited by Enrica e Mario Labò, Spazio,<br />
Tempo ed Architettura. Lo Sviluppo di una nuova tradizione, Milano, Hoepli, 2004, p. 340)<br />
43
as <strong>the</strong> very same historian admitted 77 : “The invention of <strong>the</strong> new structure<br />
coincides with <strong>the</strong> progress of sawing mill equipment and not least with <strong>the</strong> mass<br />
production of nails” 78 . The special construction of <strong>the</strong> balloon frame was in fact<br />
influenced by <strong>the</strong> level of industrialization achieved in America 79 .<br />
The idea of <strong>building</strong> a thick basket made of thin wooden beams and pillars, all with<br />
<strong>the</strong> same cross‐section and held toge<strong>the</strong>r by boards was taken from some<br />
construction and covering techniques of <strong>the</strong> first houses of <strong>the</strong> settlers on <strong>the</strong><br />
Atlantic coast 80 . The main difference lay in <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong> complex carpentry<br />
operations of <strong>the</strong> wooden joints had been replaced by <strong>the</strong> faster technique of<br />
nailing.<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> reduced size of <strong>the</strong> load bearing structure made it easier to<br />
transport and assemble. The method of construction not only guaranteed a speedy<br />
execution and a cheap <strong>building</strong>, but it was also perfectly suitable for <strong>the</strong><br />
construction of haylofts and o<strong>the</strong>r agricultural <strong>building</strong>s 81 [Figure 42‐43].<br />
However, <strong>the</strong>se aspects of <strong>the</strong> agricultural technological revolution and of <strong>the</strong><br />
construction methods are strictly linked not only to <strong>the</strong> evolution of American<br />
society, but also to a series of provisions taken over <strong>the</strong> years to regulate <strong>the</strong><br />
distribution of land at <strong>the</strong> expense of <strong>the</strong> Native Americans. These provisions,<br />
collectively known as Land Acts, began with <strong>the</strong> purchase of Louisiana, also<br />
established <strong>the</strong> planning of <strong>the</strong> territory, and made <strong>the</strong>m <strong>the</strong> most incisive<br />
contribution to <strong>the</strong> definition and construction of <strong>the</strong> extensive American<br />
77 See o<strong>the</strong>r research on <strong>the</strong> balloon frame: FIELD, Walker, “A Re‐examination into <strong>the</strong> Invention of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Balloon Frame”, The Journal of <strong>the</strong> American Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 2, No. 4<br />
(Oct.,1942), University of California Press, pp. 3‐29<br />
78 See GIEDION, Sigfried, Space, Time and Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Harvard<br />
University Press, 1954 (first ed. 1941)(tr. it. a cua di Enrica e Mario Labò, Spazio, Tempo ed<br />
Architettura. Lo Sviluppo di una nuova tradizione, Milano, Hoepli, 2004, p. 338) [Translated in English<br />
from Italian by <strong>the</strong> author]<br />
79 See SPRAGUE, Paul E., “The Origin of Balloon Framing”, Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of Architectural<br />
Historians, Vol. 40, No. 4 (Dec., 1981), University of California Press, pp. 311‐319<br />
80 See CAVANAGH, Ted, “The Original Aspects of Conventional Wood‐Frame Construction Re‐<br />
Examined”, Journal of Architectural Education (1984‐), Vol. 51, No. 1 (Sep., 1997), Association of<br />
Collegiate Schools of Architecture, pp. 5‐15; and JENSEN, Robert, “Board and Batten Siding and <strong>the</strong><br />
Balloon Frame: Their Incompatibility in <strong>the</strong> Nineteenth Century”, Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of<br />
Architectural Historians, Vol. 30, No. 1 (Mar., 1971),University of California Press, pp. 40‐50<br />
81 See JACKSON, John Brinckeroff, American Space: <strong>the</strong> Centennial Years, 1865‐1876, New York, W.W.<br />
Norton, 1972, p. 24<br />
44
<strong>landscape</strong>s and of <strong>the</strong> towns <strong>the</strong>mselves, which were involved in an infinite, logical<br />
expansion of <strong>the</strong>ir boundaries.<br />
45
Figure 13- Mechanical Cotton Gin invented by Eli Whitney in 1793<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 14- Certifi ed copy (1808) of a land survey, made from an original plan dated 1788,<br />
showing <strong>the</strong> use of trees as landmarks along property lines. (Image from TURNER, Suzanne<br />
L., “Plantation Papers as a Source for Landscape Documentation and Interpretation: The<br />
Thomas Butler Papers”, published in Bulletin of <strong>the</strong> Association for Preservation Technology,<br />
Vol. 12, No. 3, 1980, pp. 28-45
Figure 15- Origins of plantation houses.Creole architecture in antebellum South: Kleinpeter-<br />
Knox house, Baton Rouge, ca. 1800. Note <strong>the</strong> gallery is like an external distribution hall (Fred<br />
B. Kniffen Cultural Resources Laboratory, Louisiana State University: Drawings, Kathy Miller.)<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> article by EDWARS, Jay D., “The Origins of Creole Architecture”, Winterthur<br />
Portfolio, The Univesrity of Chicago Press, Vol. 29, No. 2/3 (Summer - Autumn, 1994), pp.<br />
155-189
Figure 16- Origins of plantation houses. Creole architecture in antebellum South: Holden<br />
house, Pointe Coupee Parish, La., ca. 1790. Note <strong>the</strong> gallery is like an external distribution<br />
hall (Fred B. Kniffen Cultural Resources Laboratory, Louisiana State University: Drawings,<br />
Guy Carwile.)<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> article by EDWARS, Jay D., “The Origins of Creole Architecture”, Winterthur<br />
Portfolio, The Univesrity of Chicago Press, Vol. 29, No. 2/3 (Summer - Autumn, 1994), pp.<br />
155-189
Figure 17- Homeplace Plantation House, St Charles Parish, Louisiana, 1787<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 18- Rosedown Plantation, St Francisville, Louisiana, 1835<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 19- Uncle Sam (Constancia) Plantation House, St James Parish, Louisiana, 1829-43;<br />
Aereal view of Plantation, with <strong>the</strong> owner’s house and o<strong>the</strong>r <strong>building</strong>s<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 20- Present-day Turistic Map of Rosedown Plantation,Louisiana, Buildings and gardens
Figures 21/21.1- The plantation <strong>landscape</strong>: blue and pink to indicate cotton plantations, yellow<br />
and green to indicate sugar plantations. The planimetry is <strong>the</strong> Norman’s Chart Of The Lower<br />
Mississippi River by A. Persac. Published by B.M. Norman, New Orleans, La. 1858. Engraved,<br />
Printed & Mounted By J.H. Colton & Co. New York. The title at top is “From Natchez to New<br />
Orleans”.(73X155 cm)<br />
View shows plantations by type; This reproduction copy issued by Pelican Press, originally in<br />
1931, and printed by Rand McNally - this reproduction greatly alters <strong>the</strong> original. Incredible<br />
detail, showing <strong>the</strong> Plantations on both sides of <strong>the</strong> river. Four engraved views. Engraved by<br />
J.H. Colton. Lacking boards, this copy has some tears at <strong>the</strong> folds with slight loss at some intersections,<br />
some light browning in two areas, but is overall a very good copy. Copies at LSU,<br />
Historic New Orleans Collection<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)
Figures 22/23- Oak Alley Plantation House, 1837. Left, plan of plantation and relationship with<br />
Mississippi River; Right, plan of House and Gardens and entry road with Oaks<br />
Drawings from: PLUMMER, Henry, The Potential House, Tokyo, A+U publishing, 1989
Figure 24- Live Oaks along <strong>the</strong> entrance road from <strong>the</strong> Mississippi river to <strong>the</strong> owner house.<br />
Oak Alley Plantation House, 1836 (1938 Image)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 25- The columnade of <strong>the</strong> principal front. Oak Alley Plantation House, 1836 (1938 Image)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 26- Pricipal facade from <strong>the</strong> entrance road. Oak Alley Plantation House, 1836 (1938<br />
Image) (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 27- Thomas Jefferson’s Poplar Forest House, North front elevation<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 28- Thomas Jefferson’s Poplar Forest House, Plan (survey)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 29- Plan Scheme of Poplar Forest. In <strong>the</strong> center <strong>the</strong> house with ear<strong>the</strong>n mounds planted<br />
with trees subsituting for traditonal pavilions and lines of trees forming Palladian“wings”<br />
(Image from KENNEDY Roger, “Jefferson and <strong>the</strong> Indians”, Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 27, No.<br />
2/3 (Summer - Autumn, 1992)
Figure 30- Indian mound with trees (see <strong>the</strong> mounds near <strong>the</strong> Jefferson’s House in Poplar<br />
Forest). (SQUIER, Ephraim George, and DAVIS, Edwin Hamilton, Ancient Monuments of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Mississippi Valley: Compising <strong>the</strong> Results of Extensive Original Surveys and Explorations,<br />
Washington, Smithsonian Institution, 1848)<br />
Figures 31/32- Plans of Indian monuments<br />
(Images from SQUIER, Ephraim George, and DAVIS, Edwin Hamilton, Ancient Monuments<br />
of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi Valley: Compising <strong>the</strong> Results of Extensive Original Surveys and Explorations,<br />
Washington, Smithsonian Institution, 1848)
Figure 33- Jefferson’s 1809 Poplar Forest with ear<strong>the</strong>n mounds planted with trees subsituting<br />
for traditonal pavilions and lines of trees forming Palladian“wings”<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 34- Shakers near New Lebanon state of New York, <strong>the</strong>ir mode of worship. Several<br />
rows of Shakers, separated by gender, performing a step dance in <strong>the</strong> meeting hall; a woman<br />
spectator is seated in left foreground.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 35- Diagram of <strong>the</strong> south part of Shaker Village, Canterbury, New Hampshire, 1849<br />
Pen-and-ink and watercolor. Structures drawn in elevations, numbered, and identifi ed by a<br />
legend. The artist who drew this diagram, not being acquainted with any rules of drawing,<br />
hopes it will be suffi cient apology for <strong>the</strong> imperfections which may be found. It is not drawed<br />
from any measurement or scale, but <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s are placed nearly in <strong>the</strong>ir natural situation.<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 36- Shaker Village (Sketch Map), New Lebanon (1787), Columbia County, New York,<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 37- Shaker Village, Berkshire County, Massachusetts, view from <strong>the</strong> main street. 1906<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 38- Shaker Village (Sketch Map), Berkshire County, Massachusetts<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 39- Shaker Church Family Round Barn, Hancock, Berkshire County, MA, The Round<br />
Stone Barn, originally build in 1826, underwent paint restoration in 2009. Upper levels of <strong>the</strong><br />
barn were painted to appear as <strong>the</strong>y did circa 1865, when <strong>the</strong> barn was rebuilt and renovated<br />
after a fi re. (Photo courtesy of Hancock Shaker Village, Pittsfi eld, MA)<br />
Figure 40- Hancock Shaker Village, Berkshire County, Massachusetts<br />
(Photo courtesy of Hancock Shaker Village, Pittsfi eld, MA)
Figure 41-Shaker Church Family Round Barn, Hancock, Berkshire County, MA, 1826<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 42- Different kinds of fences in Yates County, New York (note <strong>the</strong> cleanlines of <strong>the</strong><br />
roads after fence laws): Residences of Henry Lewis and Geo. J. Jones (and a blacksmith and<br />
carriage shop), 1876<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)<br />
From <strong>the</strong> book: “Combination Atlas Map Of Yates County New York. Compiled, Drawn and<br />
Published From Personal Examinations and Surveys”. Everts, Ensign & Everts, 714 & 716<br />
Filbert St. Philadelphia. 1876. Thos. Hunter Pr. Phila. N. Friend, Engr. Philad. C.L. Smith, Del.
Figure 43- The snake fences in Yates County, New York: Residence of Joseph F. Finton, 1876<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)<br />
From <strong>the</strong> book: “Combination Atlas Map Of Yates County New York. Compiled, Drawn and<br />
Published From Personal Examinations and Surveys”. Everts, Ensign & Everts, 714 & 716<br />
Filbert St. Philadelphia. 1876. Thos. Hunter Pr. Phila. N. Friend, Engr. Philad. C.L. Smith, Del.<br />
Figure 44-Snake fence and farm home in Virginia, 1940 (Wolcott, Marion Post, photographer)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
The grid as <strong>landscape</strong><br />
As anticipated in <strong>the</strong> previous paragraph, <strong>the</strong> success of Jefferson’s ideal of an<br />
agricultural democracy soon merged with <strong>the</strong> events of <strong>the</strong> farmers’ colonisation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> West.<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, it has to be stressed that <strong>the</strong> policy for awarding state lands, with<br />
provisions and planning devices established over <strong>the</strong> years, ended by also shaping<br />
<strong>the</strong> development of town and territorial planning.<br />
The endless American suburbia of today is in some way linked to <strong>the</strong>se dynamics.<br />
The ideal of freedom, which developed in contrast to life in <strong>the</strong> cities, was <strong>the</strong><br />
element which undermined <strong>the</strong> integrity of <strong>the</strong> town planning of <strong>the</strong> latter, often<br />
stretching <strong>the</strong>m over too wide a grid. Even though <strong>the</strong> grid had been introduced by<br />
<strong>the</strong> Europeans in <strong>the</strong> first settled towns, we can say today that it is <strong>the</strong> most<br />
straightforward town planning heirloom of frontier America [Figures 45‐46], which<br />
encouraged a sort of counter‐culture of planning focusing on decongestion 82 .<br />
Even though <strong>the</strong> grid is severely limited as it sees <strong>the</strong> territory in only two<br />
dimensions, it enabled cities to be planned and expanded quickly and inexpensively.<br />
As Reps claimed, this checkerboard system from <strong>the</strong> colonial era gave rise to<br />
“senseless mechanized and unimaginative town planning which was to characterize<br />
much of <strong>the</strong> 19 th century” 83 but also to quality town planning solutions, such as<br />
“New Haven, with a generous one‐ninth of <strong>the</strong> original town left as an open green;<br />
or Savannah, with its multiple squares breaking <strong>the</strong> monotony of <strong>the</strong> grid; or<br />
Jeffersonville, with its alternating pattern of open squares and <strong>building</strong> blocks. Even<br />
Philadelphia’s original plan contained <strong>the</strong> five squares laid out by Penn, <strong>the</strong> largest<br />
intended as a town center and <strong>the</strong> four smaller as recreation grounds” 84 .<br />
82 See ESPERDY, Gabrielle, “Defying <strong>the</strong> grid: A Retroactive Manifesto for <strong>the</strong> Culture of<br />
Decongestion”, Perspecta, Vol. 30, The MIT Press, 1999, pp. 10‐33<br />
83 REPS, John William, Town Planning in Frontier America, Princeton, University Press, 1965, p. 428<br />
(Italian translation by M. Terni, S. Magistretti, La costruzione dell’ America urbana, introduction by<br />
Francesco Dal Co, Milano, Franco Angeli, 1976, p. 347)<br />
84 Ibid.<br />
46
However, a grid configuration extended across <strong>the</strong> whole territory could, from <strong>the</strong><br />
American point of view, guarantee <strong>building</strong>‐town‐country integration. It was on <strong>the</strong><br />
basis of this premise that Wright’s idea of a project to perfectly integrate Broadacre<br />
City into <strong>the</strong> logical system of <strong>the</strong> majority of American territory [Figure 48‐50].<br />
To understand it, it is worth retracing some historical and political transitions which<br />
determined <strong>the</strong> transformation of <strong>the</strong> colonial checkerboards of <strong>the</strong> towns into a<br />
system, with which even wider territories could be planned.<br />
The problem of governing <strong>the</strong> developing Western lands arose for <strong>the</strong> first time<br />
following <strong>the</strong> Land Ordinance of 1784, written by Thomas Jefferson (at <strong>the</strong> time a<br />
delegate from Virginia), which made provision for <strong>the</strong> creation of a series of states<br />
in <strong>the</strong> lands west of <strong>the</strong> Appalachian Mountains, North of <strong>the</strong> Ohio River and East of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Mississippi River. It had in fact become necessary to determine <strong>the</strong> criterion by<br />
which newly acquired lands should be subdivided and managed following <strong>the</strong> Treaty<br />
of Paris (1783), which had officially ended <strong>the</strong> War of Independence.<br />
In 1785, <strong>the</strong>refore, a new Land Ordinance 85 was issued which not only provided a<br />
useful model for land colonisation [Figure 47], but also enabled <strong>the</strong> land to be sold,<br />
thus ensuring an income for <strong>the</strong> treasury chest of Congress. The idea of selling <strong>the</strong><br />
land also centralized <strong>the</strong> power and gave importance to <strong>the</strong> central bodies of <strong>the</strong><br />
newly born Republic, which had thus found a way to finance <strong>the</strong>mselves. In fact,<br />
Congress was unable to raise taxes from <strong>the</strong> settlers, because this right belonged to<br />
<strong>the</strong> individual states. The Land Ordinance involved <strong>the</strong> work of geographers and<br />
explorers, which was to establish <strong>the</strong> basis for <strong>the</strong> current Public Land Survey<br />
System of <strong>the</strong> United States.<br />
This system soon collided head‐on with <strong>the</strong> rights of <strong>the</strong> American Indians, who<br />
were forcibly moved several times from <strong>the</strong>ir lands, even though <strong>the</strong> Northwest<br />
Ordinance of 1787 had recognized <strong>the</strong> right of Native Americans to occupy <strong>the</strong><br />
territories, and excluded any unilateral interference by <strong>the</strong> United States.<br />
85 For <strong>the</strong> data on this page see WHITE, Albert C., A History of <strong>the</strong> Rectangular Survey System,<br />
Washington D.C., U.S. Government Printing Office, 1991 (first ed. 1983), p. 776; KNEPPER, George<br />
W., The Official Ohio Lands Book, Columbus, Ohio Auditor of State, 2002, p. 86<br />
47
Unfortunately, it is common knowledge that for numerous reasons things turned<br />
out differently. As <strong>the</strong> historian, Maldwyn Jones, has correctly observed, <strong>the</strong> origin<br />
of <strong>the</strong>se contrasts was not due to practical questions, but to ideologically different<br />
approaches to life. “The whites did not have any understanding or patience for a<br />
poly<strong>the</strong>istic culture (and <strong>the</strong>refore to <strong>the</strong>m "hea<strong>the</strong>n") which considered not only<br />
foreign, but even repugnant <strong>the</strong> concept of private ownership of <strong>the</strong> land" 86 .<br />
Howard Zinn goes a step fur<strong>the</strong>r as regards this policy, which was to result in, and<br />
was to be celebrated by <strong>the</strong> “transfer” of <strong>the</strong> American Indians (Indian Removal Act<br />
of 1830), an act <strong>the</strong> consequences of which are difficult to calculate precisely in<br />
terms of human lives:<br />
And so, “Indian Removal”, as it has been politely called, cleared <strong>the</strong> land<br />
for white occupancy between <strong>the</strong> Appalachians and <strong>the</strong> Mississippi,<br />
cleared it for cotton in <strong>the</strong> South and grain in <strong>the</strong> North, for expansion,<br />
immigration, canals, railroads, new cities, and <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> of a huge<br />
continental empire clear across to <strong>the</strong> Pacific Ocean. […] When Jefferson<br />
doubled <strong>the</strong> size of <strong>the</strong> nation by purchasing <strong>the</strong> Louisiana territory from<br />
France in 1803 […] he proposed to Congress that Indians should be<br />
encouraged to settle down on smaller tracts and do farming; <br />
Jefferson's talk of agriculture, manufactures, civilization is crucial. Indian<br />
removal was necessary for <strong>the</strong> opening of <strong>the</strong> vast American lands to<br />
agriculture, to commerce, to markets, to money, to <strong>the</strong> development of<br />
<strong>the</strong> modern capitalist economy. 87<br />
The result was, that whoever opposed it was exterminated in a few decades, and<br />
<strong>the</strong> pacific tribes, who did not oppose <strong>the</strong> invasion of <strong>the</strong>ir territories and had tried<br />
to move from hunting to agriculture, could never match <strong>the</strong> modern land cultivation<br />
and exploitation techniques adopted by <strong>the</strong> whites and soon faced <strong>the</strong>ir ruin and<br />
decay.<br />
86 JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐1992, London, Oxford University<br />
Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983], p. 3 [translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian (tr. it. Storia degli Stati Uniti<br />
d’America. Dalle prime colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milano, Bompiani 2011, p. 9)<br />
87 ZINN, Howard, A people’s History of <strong>the</strong> United States, New York, Harper&Row, 1980 [translation<br />
by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian (it. tr. di Erica Mannucci, Storia del popolo <strong>american</strong>o, dal 1492 a oggi,<br />
Milano, il Saggiatore, 2010, pp. 92‐93)<br />
48
The lands freed from <strong>the</strong> American Indians were <strong>the</strong>n subdivided according to a<br />
model that we will try to illustrate briefly. The basic module consisted of <strong>the</strong> socalled<br />
Township, a six‐mile long square (6x6 equal to 93 square km), created by lines<br />
that crossed perpendicularly from North‐South and East‐West [Figure 48]. Each<br />
Township was formed in turn by 36 sections of a square mile each, namely 640<br />
acres (2.6 sq. km), which represented <strong>the</strong> sale unit at <strong>the</strong> cost of a dollar per acre.<br />
Sections and Townships followed one ano<strong>the</strong>r in a regular sequence, which<br />
determined <strong>the</strong> geography of <strong>the</strong> new states and sometimes merged with natural<br />
borders, such as <strong>the</strong> Ohio River [Figure 47].<br />
The sections were set side by side and numbered according to a precise scheme,<br />
and some of <strong>the</strong>m had to be reserved for public purposes or put aside for future<br />
sale by <strong>the</strong> Federal Government, once <strong>the</strong> costs of <strong>the</strong> land had risen, thanks to<br />
private investments in <strong>the</strong> bordering lands.<br />
The Land Act of 1796 changed <strong>the</strong> numbering for <strong>the</strong> identification of <strong>the</strong> sections<br />
and in <strong>the</strong> following years a series of changes were introduced, in particular as<br />
regards <strong>the</strong> minimum sale unit. The system, in fact, favoured <strong>the</strong> large landowners,<br />
who were <strong>the</strong> only ones able to buy and cultivate portions of territory measuring<br />
640 acres. For this reason, during Jefferson’s time when expansion turned to <strong>the</strong><br />
Louisiana territories, recently bought from France, <strong>the</strong> minimum sale unit was first<br />
halved (to 320 acres) and <strong>the</strong>n halved again to a quarter (160 acres).<br />
Notwithstanding <strong>the</strong>se transformations, it remained difficult for <strong>the</strong> investors to<br />
make a profit and cultivate such large portions of territory. Therefore, in 1820,<br />
Congress cut <strong>the</strong> sale unit even fur<strong>the</strong>r to an eighth (80 acres). However, <strong>the</strong> Land<br />
Acts set no limits to <strong>the</strong> purchase and imposed no obligations on <strong>the</strong> purchasers, all<br />
of which ended by favouring speculation and <strong>the</strong> formation of large estates. The<br />
path was being cleared for more liberal policies, so that <strong>the</strong> time was ripe for <strong>the</strong><br />
Homestead Act of 1862, which guaranteed easier access to state‐owned lands.<br />
By adopting this model, an attempt was made to control several cases of town<br />
expansion. The case of Savannah 88 , quoted previously in Reps’s words, is significant.<br />
88 See REPS, John William, Town Planning in Frontier America, Princeton, University Press, 1965, pp.<br />
238‐260 (it. tr. by M. Terni, S. Magistretti, La costruzione dell’ America urbana; introduction by<br />
Francesco Dal Co, Milano: Franco Angeli, 1976, pp. 212‐228)<br />
49
Careful observation of <strong>the</strong> plan of <strong>the</strong> city in 1800 [Figure 52] clearly shows how <strong>the</strong><br />
checkerboard system had been integrated with <strong>the</strong> six original neighbourhood<br />
pavilions, cancelling forever <strong>the</strong> image of a frontier town and <strong>the</strong> savage <strong>landscape</strong>,<br />
in which <strong>the</strong> town had lain just a few years before [Figure 53].<br />
If we pause for a moment on a single pavilion governed by <strong>the</strong> new grid, we see<br />
how a public space was envisaged in <strong>the</strong> centre and how <strong>the</strong> selling of lands was<br />
subordinated to <strong>the</strong> definition of a road grid that established <strong>the</strong> geometrical order<br />
of <strong>the</strong> structures. By adding new pavilions <strong>the</strong> sides, <strong>the</strong> roads that were once<br />
peripheral automatically became commercial streets, whereas homes usually<br />
fronted <strong>the</strong> central public spaces.<br />
Although <strong>the</strong> scheme applied to <strong>the</strong> city of Savannah did not have any particular<br />
influence on American town planning, it connected directly to <strong>the</strong> basic grid logic<br />
behind <strong>the</strong> structure of Broadacre City (1935) [Figure 49‐50]. Wright’s project<br />
adopted <strong>the</strong> grid not merely for its geometrical layout, but also to return to <strong>the</strong><br />
provisions established by <strong>the</strong> Land Ordinance of 1784, which were later<br />
substantially confirmed in <strong>the</strong> subdivision of land following <strong>the</strong> Louisiana Purchase.<br />
SIZE of Land Survey Dimensions in mile miles 2 acres m 2 km 2<br />
Township 6 by 6 36 23040 93.0<br />
Section 1 by 1 1 640 2.6<br />
Half‐section 1 by ½ ½ 320 1.3<br />
Quarter‐section ½ by ½ ¼ 160 647497<br />
Half of quarter‐section ½ by ¼<br />
1⁄8<br />
80 323749<br />
Quarter of quarter‐section ¼ by ¼<br />
1⁄16<br />
40 161874<br />
Broadacre City 4 by 4 16 2560 10.4<br />
Broadacre‐section 1 by 1 1 640 2.6<br />
Broadacre stretches for 4 square miles and <strong>the</strong> module which subtends <strong>the</strong> town<br />
grid consists of <strong>the</strong> Jefferson‐type section of one mile by one mile, so much so that<br />
in <strong>the</strong> project <strong>the</strong> very term section was used by Wright to identify <strong>the</strong> four quarters<br />
of <strong>the</strong> city. Each section identifies <strong>the</strong> 4 areas, amounting to 160 acres each, for an<br />
overall total of 640 acres for <strong>the</strong> entire area of <strong>the</strong> section [Figure 49]. The<br />
individual acres were in turn identified by a rectangular module of 264 x 165 feet<br />
(50 x 80 m), which for Wright represented <strong>the</strong> minimum land unit to associate with<br />
a <strong>building</strong>.<br />
50
In <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> town <strong>the</strong>re were lots reserved for school <strong>building</strong>s, as suggested<br />
in <strong>the</strong> model envisaged by <strong>the</strong> Land Act, whereas in o<strong>the</strong>r strategic locations large,<br />
free and/or equipped areas for common use were to be identified [Figure 49].<br />
Much has been written about Broadacre in an attempt to reconstruct <strong>the</strong> genesis of<br />
this project: from <strong>the</strong> hypo<strong>the</strong>ses of <strong>the</strong> contest of <strong>the</strong> Chicago City Club Quarter<br />
Section (1913) to <strong>the</strong> project for Ocatillo (1929) [Figure 65], no‐one has ever found<br />
convincing proof that <strong>the</strong> most radical trait of Wright's proposal was not <strong>the</strong><br />
regressive utopia of back to <strong>the</strong> land, but ra<strong>the</strong>r his adhesion to <strong>the</strong> logic inherent in<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> American Midwest, which he had studied and reworked. A<br />
comparison of <strong>the</strong> aerial and satellite photos of <strong>the</strong> Midwestern States will suffice<br />
to show how <strong>the</strong> section continues to be <strong>the</strong> yardstick for <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
The assessment of this data demonstrates that in <strong>the</strong> history of town planning<br />
Broadacre cannot be considered an aristocratic refusal of <strong>the</strong> city and of its<br />
mobocracy. On <strong>the</strong> contrary, it underlines a certainly utopian attempt to unite <strong>the</strong><br />
natural and mechanical worlds. Broadacre is not merely <strong>the</strong> city of wide open<br />
spaces with vineyards, orchards and farms, but is also a modern territory crossed by<br />
<strong>the</strong> railroad and <strong>the</strong> motorway, marked by many factories and modern<br />
telecommunication equipment. Recently, Robert McCarter lingers on those possible<br />
technological inspirations and makes a quick comparison of <strong>the</strong> ideas contained in<br />
Wright’s project, relating <strong>the</strong>m to <strong>the</strong>ir cultural and literary context:<br />
Wright’s concept, which he called Broadacre City in his book The<br />
Disappearing City (1932), was also influenced by a number of o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
sources, including Fields, Factories and Workshops (1898) by <strong>the</strong><br />
anarchist Peter Kropotkin, a Russian prince in exile, who predicted <strong>the</strong><br />
impact of electrical and communication grids and high‐speed motorways<br />
leading to <strong>the</strong> merging of city and country; Progress and Poverty (1879)<br />
by Henry George, who called for <strong>the</strong> removal of land from private<br />
ownership and <strong>the</strong> single tax system; and Anticipations of <strong>the</strong> Reaction<br />
of Mechanical and Scientific Process upon Human Life and Thought<br />
(1901) by H.G. Wells, who predicted <strong>the</strong> diffusion of <strong>the</strong> population<br />
across <strong>the</strong> countryside, and <strong>the</strong>ir accommodation in what he called <strong>the</strong><br />
‘pratically automatic house’. 89<br />
89 McCARTER, Robert, Frank Lloyd Wright, London, Reaktion Books Ltd, 2006, p. 125‐126 (Italian<br />
translation by Vito Calabretta, Frank Lloyd Wright, afterword by Roberta Martinis, Torino, Bollati<br />
Boringhieri, 2008, p. 137)<br />
51
The revision of <strong>the</strong> Broadacre project, carried out in <strong>the</strong> 1950’s [Figure 51], and <strong>the</strong><br />
design of The Illinois, <strong>the</strong> mile‐high skyscraper, represent <strong>the</strong> real contradictions of a<br />
system that Wright had demonstrated as being capable of adapting not to an<br />
abstract territory, but to one that really existed. It is his extraordinary architectural<br />
works, items of great quality inserted at a later date into <strong>the</strong> city <strong>landscape</strong>, which<br />
in some way undermine its structure just because <strong>the</strong>y are <strong>the</strong>re.<br />
Wright’s most mature, poetic contribution to Broadacre is not to be found in his<br />
ample panoramic vistas he prepared for <strong>the</strong> edition of The Living City (1958), but in<br />
his identification of urban planning as landscaping to imagine a city‐environment<br />
continuum [Figure 51]. It is just <strong>the</strong> variety of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s imagined and<br />
proposed by Wright that is most attractive. What is most attractive is really <strong>the</strong><br />
variety of <strong>landscape</strong>s Wright imagined and proposed. If, on <strong>the</strong> one hand, <strong>the</strong>re is a<br />
natural <strong>landscape</strong> which can penetrate <strong>the</strong> folds of <strong>the</strong> grid (such as <strong>the</strong> river which<br />
crosses <strong>the</strong> ground plan of Broadacre) or which can provide a third dimension by<br />
breaking down <strong>the</strong> two‐dimensional checkerboard pattern (such as <strong>the</strong> hill placed in<br />
a corner quadrant, which Wright exploited to include a residential neighbourhood<br />
with larger houses), on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> vegetable and<br />
flower gardens, <strong>the</strong> orchards and <strong>the</strong> farms, which is typical of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
agrarian culture.<br />
Bruno Zevi, who was one of <strong>the</strong> few historians with a profound interest in <strong>the</strong> ideas<br />
expressed at Broadacre and, in a wider sense, in Wright's architecture, approached<br />
<strong>the</strong> critical point of organic planning by suggesting an interpretative reading aimed<br />
at promoting <strong>the</strong> project. His critical analysis reappraises Wright’s programme in<br />
<strong>the</strong> light of <strong>the</strong> debates regarding <strong>the</strong> city, which were typical at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong><br />
1970’s. Zevi's considerations appear verisimilar even today:<br />
The anti‐urban polemic is a constant feature of American culture […]<br />
[Broadacre's, editor’s note] model was exhibited, in 1934, at <strong>the</strong><br />
Rockefeller Center in New York and, later, in many American and<br />
European cities. The town planners considered it <strong>the</strong> outcome of a<br />
romantic spirit, still deep in <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century and linked to a rural<br />
ideal. Only at <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> 1970’s, when <strong>the</strong> concept of cityregion<br />
or city‐territory came up, it was understood that Wright had been<br />
<strong>the</strong> only one to foresee <strong>the</strong> degradation and <strong>the</strong> collapse of <strong>the</strong> urban<br />
concentrations, and to indicate a serious alternative. Once <strong>the</strong> ideas of<br />
52
<strong>the</strong> garden towns and of <strong>the</strong> satellite towns had failed, Wright’s “rural<br />
urbanism” is not any longer wordplay but a civil message that has to be<br />
pondered. 90<br />
In o<strong>the</strong>r words, <strong>the</strong> lesson learnt from Broadacre would suggest that nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong><br />
agricultural fields nor <strong>the</strong> application of an abstract model can give a good answer<br />
to densely populated territories. An opportunity for <strong>landscape</strong> design lies in <strong>the</strong><br />
management and planning of <strong>the</strong>se processes.<br />
Today’s <strong>landscape</strong>s of urban sprawl, invading what were once considered<br />
agricultural and/or natural territories, now act above all as a warning. Recently, too<br />
many politicians and project designers have, perhaps unknowingly, been unable to<br />
handle a situation which has transformed <strong>the</strong> city and our customary conception of<br />
it. Suburbs stretching for hundreds of kilometres, according to a plan found in<br />
various European and American regions, have not merely become a symptom of<br />
how dispersive <strong>the</strong> city can be, but <strong>the</strong>y also demonstrate our inability to make a<br />
phenomenon, which was taking place at <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century,<br />
worthwhile. If <strong>the</strong>se common forms of dwelling are often referred to as <strong>the</strong> cancer<br />
of town planning, it should be stressed that <strong>the</strong>y have wormed <strong>the</strong>ir way into <strong>the</strong><br />
folds of legislative and town planning tools which, in <strong>the</strong>ory, should have protected<br />
<strong>the</strong> city from losing its grounds. Wright had understood that <strong>the</strong>re was no need to<br />
oppose dispersion. On <strong>the</strong> contrary it was better to manage it, and identify its<br />
aes<strong>the</strong>tic significance.<br />
Although Broadacre appears to express Wright’s talent, it is not resigned to suffer<br />
congestion passively and at <strong>the</strong> same time, offers an advanced analysis of <strong>the</strong><br />
phenomena of dispersion already under way in America in <strong>the</strong> 1930s.<br />
90 ZEVI, Bruno, Frank Lloyd Wright, Bologna, Zanichelli, 1979, pp. 142‐144 [translation by <strong>the</strong> editor<br />
from Italian]; A totally different interpretation about Broadacre is to be found in Giorgio Ciucci essay<br />
“La città nell’ideologia agraria e Frank Lloyd Wright. Origini e sviluppo di Broadacre”. [The town in<br />
agrarian ideology and Frank Lloyd Wright. The origins and development of Broadacre]: <br />
published in CIUCCI Giorgio, DAL CO Francesco, MANIERI ELIA Mario, TAFURI Manfredo, La città<br />
<strong>american</strong>a dalla guerra civile al New Deal, [The American city from <strong>the</strong> Civil War to <strong>the</strong> New Deal]<br />
Laterza, Bari, 1973, p. 340 [translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian];<br />
53
Robert McCarter gives a similar interpretation of this point to <strong>the</strong> one we have just<br />
suggested: “Broadacre City reflects Wright’s ideal of relating to <strong>the</strong> land [...] With<br />
this new vision of life in <strong>the</strong> prairie <strong>landscape</strong>, Wright also reconnected to Frederick<br />
Jackson Turner’s 1893 lecture establishing <strong>the</strong> importance of <strong>the</strong> frontier and<br />
pioneer spirit to American democracy. Wright wrote that: ”. 91<br />
For this reason, Wright refused <strong>the</strong> idea of today's crowded metropolis far away<br />
from nature, as he had matured a diametrically opposed idea.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> contrary, <strong>the</strong> principles of organic architecture actually stem from <strong>the</strong> idea<br />
that architecture is a sort of extension of nature itself. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, as Edward<br />
Frank recalls “<strong>the</strong> ecological relationship extends to man, about which Wright<br />
affirms: ” 92 . Probably such words contain what in <strong>the</strong><br />
course of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century had seemed to be Wright’s remaining romantic<br />
traces and today <strong>the</strong>y reintroduce his modern <strong>landscape</strong> awareness.<br />
93 .<br />
The grid which had produced New York, a city which embodies Wright's mobocracy,<br />
proved with Broadacre that it could generate from <strong>the</strong> same scheme a town<br />
founded on much more delicate social links than those imposed by property<br />
speculation. However, Broadacre City actually refused <strong>the</strong> isolation of agricultural<br />
91 McCARTER, Robert, Frank Lloyd Wright, London, Reaktion Books Ltd, 2006, p. 130 (Italian<br />
translation by Vito Calabretta, Frank Lloyd Wright, afterword by Roberta Martinis, Torino, Bollati<br />
Boringhieri, 2008, p.142). It is important to note that <strong>the</strong> Wright’s consideration about<br />
“decentralization” are related to <strong>the</strong> New Deal economic programs sponsored by Franklin D.<br />
Roosevelt in <strong>the</strong> same years.<br />
92 FRANK, Edward, Pensiero organico e architettura wrightiana, Bari: Dedalo libri, 1978; p. 45<br />
[translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian]<br />
93 Ibid. p. 107<br />
54
and pastoral life. The “middle <strong>landscape</strong>” <strong>the</strong>orized by Leo Marx seems to permeate<br />
this particular project by Wright.<br />
Olmsted reacted differently to <strong>the</strong> grid, by taking a more diversified, radical<br />
approach. Contrary to Wright, Olmsted acknowledged that <strong>the</strong> town and its<br />
functions had a precise meaning, but he did try, however, to free his projects of<br />
urban parks from <strong>the</strong> logic of <strong>the</strong> grid and reconnect with <strong>the</strong> picturesque planning<br />
of <strong>the</strong> English garden, which Andrew Jackson Downing’s <strong>the</strong>ories had popularised in<br />
America. Moreover, Olmsted’s work began as a need for giving structure to <strong>the</strong><br />
overall layout of <strong>the</strong> town. His projects offered a realistic proposal of improvement<br />
and, as Francesco Dal Co has correctly said “Olmsted's <strong>landscape</strong> did not aim at<br />
producing isolated models, separate and alternative to <strong>the</strong> town. The <strong>landscape</strong><br />
was by now transformed in a precise town planning instrument; <strong>the</strong> parks were <strong>the</strong><br />
product of a philosophy that aimed at reforming <strong>the</strong> life conditions through refined<br />
planning techniques” 94 . Bruno Zevi fur<strong>the</strong>r explains <strong>the</strong> relationship between<br />
Olmsted and <strong>the</strong> traditional town, by identifying an alternative proposal to <strong>the</strong> rigid<br />
checkerboard plan in his idea of a park:<br />
The of <strong>the</strong> United States were not satisfied<br />
with protecting <strong>the</strong> countryside and with rescuing some green areas<br />
from <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> industry. They wished a development that brought<br />
94 DAL CO, Francesco, “Dai Parchi alla regione. L’ ideologia progressista e la riforma della città<br />
<strong>american</strong>a” [From <strong>the</strong> Parks to <strong>the</strong> region. Progressive ideology and reform of <strong>the</strong> American city]<br />
published in CIUCCI Giorgio, DAL CO Francesco, MANIERI ELIA Mario, TAFURI Manfredo, La città<br />
<strong>american</strong>a dalla guerra civile al New Deal, [The American city from <strong>the</strong> Civil War to <strong>the</strong> New Deal]<br />
Laterza, Bari, 1973, p. 181 [translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian]; This book requires a note of<br />
clarification. It is an important Italian contribution as regards <strong>the</strong> development of American towns<br />
between <strong>the</strong> nineteenth and twentieth century, however, it must be said that <strong>the</strong> overall significance<br />
of <strong>the</strong> research appears dated nowadays, and affected by some of <strong>the</strong> typical categorisations of<br />
culture in <strong>the</strong> 70s.. The continual references to Marxist <strong>the</strong>ories and <strong>the</strong> explicit condemnation of<br />
laissez‐faire often make <strong>the</strong> treatment of social and economic matters anachronistic and make <strong>the</strong><br />
authors appear inexplicably interested in a topic which <strong>the</strong>y <strong>the</strong>n seem at times to despise. The<br />
book was later translated into English and printed in <strong>the</strong> United States. However, following an ironic,<br />
disparaging review which appeared in April 1980 in <strong>the</strong> magazine Skyline, <strong>the</strong> official mouthpiece,<br />
toge<strong>the</strong>r with Opposition, of <strong>the</strong> IAUS [Institute for Architecture and Urban Studies] directed by<br />
Peter Eisenman, risked undermining <strong>the</strong> relationship between <strong>the</strong> IUAV in Venice, represented to a<br />
certain extent by <strong>the</strong> authors, and <strong>the</strong> New York architects mentioned in <strong>the</strong> magazine. Evidence of<br />
this unfortunate situation can be found in <strong>the</strong> correspondence filed at <strong>the</strong> Centre Canadien<br />
d’Architecture in Montreal: CCA ‐ Peter Eisenman fonds, serie BOX‐51‐B (AP143.S5.D17‐<br />
DR2001:0038). [My thanks go to Francesco Coppolecchia, architectural researcher, for <strong>the</strong> time and<br />
assistance he dedicated to providing <strong>the</strong> information needed to help me reconstruct this episode<br />
with all <strong>the</strong> aforementioned details.]<br />
55
toge<strong>the</strong>r urban and environmental planning.[…] The park was for<br />
Olmsted <strong>the</strong> first tool for freeing <strong>the</strong> city and his architecture from <strong>the</strong><br />
slavery of rigid, uniform and mortifying patterns. Here are some<br />
features: ; . In o<strong>the</strong>r words,<br />
<strong>the</strong> sequence of <strong>the</strong> parks had to offer <strong>the</strong> means to overcome <strong>the</strong><br />
schism between town and countryside, and to fight both <strong>the</strong><br />
bureaucratic zoning and <strong>the</strong> social segregation 95 .<br />
We believe a brief analysis of a project of suburban settlement, such as Riverside,<br />
Illinois [Figure 54], a suburb in <strong>the</strong> periphery of Chicago, planned by Olmsted and<br />
Vaux in 1869, to be of greater interest. In this case, <strong>the</strong> planners had to make a<br />
specific choice: ei<strong>the</strong>r to retain <strong>the</strong> characteristic grid of <strong>the</strong> surrounding territory,<br />
or to propose something different, even though <strong>the</strong>y knew <strong>the</strong>y had to assure <strong>the</strong><br />
feasibility of an intervention using private investment and <strong>the</strong>refore for speculative<br />
reasons.<br />
The ground plan for Riverside, <strong>the</strong> prerequisites of which were resumed by Charles<br />
and Frederick Olmsted in <strong>the</strong> later Plan for Vandergrift, Pennsylvania (1895), is <strong>the</strong><br />
anti<strong>the</strong>sis of “Manhattanism”, which fascinated Rem Koolhaas in his Delirious New<br />
York, since it rejects <strong>the</strong> typical, geometrical plan of <strong>the</strong> metropolis. And yet<br />
Manhattan, even though it is not America, embodies perfectly <strong>the</strong> typical elements<br />
of <strong>the</strong> "American layout", as Le Corbusier defined <strong>the</strong> dense road grille of New York<br />
in 1937 96 .<br />
Olmsted rejected <strong>the</strong> grid and drew a series of curvilinear streets, which<br />
determined oval blocks of <strong>building</strong>s. The overall plan recalls a carpet of leaves under<br />
95 ZEVI, Bruno, “F.L. Olmsted, F. Ll. Wright e il contributo <strong>american</strong>o” [F.L. Olmsted, F. Ll. Wright and<br />
<strong>the</strong> American contribution], published in ZEVI, Bruno, Pretesti di critica architettonica, Turin, Einaudi,<br />
1983, p. 345 [translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian]; This text by Zevi is based on <strong>the</strong> paper The<br />
Influence of American Architecture and Urban Planning in <strong>the</strong> World presented at <strong>the</strong> conference<br />
“200 Years of American History: What difference has it made?”, Washington D.C., during <strong>the</strong><br />
American bicentennial and published in DAVIS, Allen F., For Better or Worse – The American<br />
Influence in <strong>the</strong> World, Westport (Conn.) and London, Greenwood Press, 1981<br />
96 See LE CORBUSIER, Quand les Chatédral étaient blanches, voyage au pays des timides, 1937 (Italian<br />
translation by Irene Alessi, Quando le cattedrali erano bianche, viaggio nel paese dei timidi,<br />
introduction by Gianni Contessi, Milan, Christian Marinotti Edizioni, 2003)<br />
56
a tree, and each "leaf" encloses dozens of lots intended to encourage <strong>the</strong> rich<br />
bourgeoisie and <strong>the</strong> American middle‐class to settle <strong>the</strong>re. However, <strong>the</strong> project<br />
was not limited to <strong>the</strong> identification of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> lots organized in a functional<br />
plan. The intricate interweaving of winding road created numerous oblong or<br />
triangular areas, which were intended as communal green spaces.<br />
This simple expedient, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s were never built on<br />
<strong>the</strong> edge of <strong>the</strong> road, but were set back a few dozen metres to create varying<br />
alignments which would give <strong>the</strong> built‐up area a rural aspect and hide <strong>the</strong> presence<br />
of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s. The Des Plains River, which bordered <strong>the</strong> project to <strong>the</strong> South,<br />
fuelled this sensation of immersion in a “natural” habitat stretching over an<br />
approximately 3x2‐km perimeter. The total project area included 1,600 acres<br />
divided slantwise by <strong>the</strong> railroad. The various private lots wove deep within <strong>the</strong><br />
“leaves”, and created an apparently homogeneous green lung free of divisions at<br />
<strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> “block”. Thus, <strong>the</strong> homes at <strong>the</strong> back had plenty of space and<br />
privacy.<br />
The design choices adopted show <strong>the</strong> importance and <strong>the</strong> uniqueness of this<br />
project, in which <strong>the</strong> planners had conceived not only unbuilt areas, as in <strong>the</strong> urban<br />
park project, but had also indicated <strong>the</strong> use and <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> areas<br />
intended for <strong>building</strong>s. The urban and <strong>landscape</strong> project was nearly entirely<br />
completed and in <strong>the</strong> following years, <strong>building</strong>s were added by numerous<br />
architects, such as Daniel Burnham, Louis Sullivan, William Le Baron Jenney and by<br />
Calvert Vaux himself.<br />
However, as we said previously, <strong>the</strong> “American layout” began to be undermined by<br />
<strong>the</strong> picturesque English garden. Somehow, <strong>the</strong> Riverside project refers to a specific<br />
precedent: <strong>the</strong> design for a park by Alexander Jackson Davis (1803‐1892) and<br />
Calvert Vaux, which contained a series of dwellings. Conceived in 1857 and<br />
implemented two years later, this project was called Llewellyn Park [Figure 55]and<br />
was constructed on <strong>the</strong> outskirts of West Orange, New Jersey. The trend for<br />
picturesque planning, begun by Llewellyn Park, <strong>the</strong> influence of which can be<br />
probably traced back to Andrew Jackson Downing, exercised its charm on various<br />
constructions in <strong>the</strong> following decades.<br />
57
With no bearing on ei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> logic of <strong>the</strong> construction chessboard or <strong>the</strong> dynamics<br />
of <strong>the</strong> new agricultural lands, <strong>the</strong> new <strong>landscape</strong>s which were created led to <strong>the</strong><br />
subsequent, nineteenth century idealisation of nature. Christian Zapatka speaks of<br />
<strong>the</strong> numerous experiences which followed this particular structure to plan for<br />
suburban, residential neighbourhoods as intermediate areas between town and<br />
country:<br />
In <strong>the</strong> mid‐to‐late nineteenth century, projects for suburban<br />
neighbourhoods such as Roland Park in Baltimore and Druid Hills Park in<br />
Atlanta proposed curvilinear plans that not only took advantage of <strong>the</strong><br />
site conditions but introduced less rigid streets. The streets were much<br />
less integrated with <strong>the</strong> houses than in urban cases. Early photographs<br />
show individual foot bridges, for example, going from <strong>the</strong> crown of <strong>the</strong><br />
road to <strong>the</strong> sidewalk in front of each house. The suburban streets were<br />
more highway‐like than urban. These neighbourhoods could be seen as<br />
residential versions of <strong>the</strong> great city parks. The allure of a country house<br />
within <strong>the</strong> boundaries of <strong>the</strong> city was one of <strong>the</strong> forces behind <strong>the</strong><br />
project. 97<br />
Even more surprising is Wright’s indirect revision of <strong>the</strong> oval block scheme<br />
implemented in Riverside by Olmsted. Wright was to remain substantially faithful to<br />
<strong>the</strong> grid for decades, but at <strong>the</strong> same time he included some suggestions from <strong>the</strong><br />
world of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. In fact, in some little known projects, Wright was to<br />
programmatically combine <strong>the</strong> picturesque approach with that of <strong>the</strong> grid module.<br />
Although Olmsted and Wright had no direct contact with each o<strong>the</strong>r, it has to be<br />
said that <strong>the</strong> latter knew <strong>the</strong> Riverside project very well, since it was not very far<br />
away from Oak Park. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, at <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century,<br />
Wright was to get <strong>the</strong> opportunity to plan as part of <strong>the</strong> Olmsted project, both<br />
Thomek House (1907) and various <strong>building</strong>s on <strong>the</strong> Coonley Estate (1907‐09), fine<br />
tuning <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>me of <strong>the</strong> prairie houses. It was actually Coonley House, toge<strong>the</strong>r with<br />
Robie House, a masterpiece of <strong>the</strong> period, with its annexes and its ample garden,<br />
which occupied nearly all <strong>the</strong> egg‐shaped space of one of <strong>the</strong> smallest blocks<br />
planned by Olmsted close to <strong>the</strong> river.<br />
97 ZAPATKA, CHRISTIAN The American <strong>landscape</strong>, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, 1995, p. 79<br />
(Italian translation L’architettura del paesaggio <strong>american</strong>o, edited by Mirko Zardini, Milano, Electa,<br />
1995, p. 79)<br />
58
This idea of dedicating a circular lot entirely to a dwelling was taken up again much<br />
later and applied to <strong>the</strong> principles of <strong>the</strong> Usonian houses, when Wright was faced<br />
with devising a master plan for Galesburg Country Homes, Galesburg, Michigan<br />
(1947). This was a small, residential suburb, which included an orchard and a series<br />
of small ponds immersed in nature and used to define <strong>the</strong> area boundaries. Bruce<br />
Brooks Pfeiffer perceptively reconstructs <strong>the</strong> details:<br />
The master plan for this sub vision reveals an innovative approach to<br />
individual house plots where each is a complete circle. Forty‐two circles<br />
represent <strong>the</strong> plots for 42 homes on 72 acres. Wright wrote: “The center<br />
of each disk of ground once located by survey and diameter given, any<br />
house owner can tell where his lot limits are. No lot line touches ano<strong>the</strong>r<br />
wherever <strong>the</strong> scheme is perfect. All interspaces are to be planted to<br />
some native shrub like barberry or sumach, throwing a network of color<br />
in pattern over <strong>the</strong> entire tract”. The plan was later modified to provide<br />
21 homes, and <strong>the</strong>n once again modified to provide 18. Four of <strong>the</strong> plots<br />
were purchased by homeowners who came to Wright for <strong>the</strong>ir designs. 98<br />
The same model was re‐proposed not only in <strong>the</strong> master plan for Parkwyn Village,<br />
Kalamazoo, Michigan (1947) [Figure 56], in which Wright also pictured a central<br />
<strong>building</strong> for use by <strong>the</strong> community, but also in <strong>the</strong> project called “Usonia II”, ano<strong>the</strong>r<br />
settlement design devised for <strong>the</strong> company Usonia Homes Inc. in Pleasantville, New<br />
York (1947) 99 .<br />
When it was <strong>the</strong> matter of planning Broadacre City, Wright provided a solution<br />
which adhered to schemes that were already present within <strong>the</strong> territory [Figures<br />
45‐50]. However, when he had <strong>the</strong> opportunity of planning a smaller, both practical<br />
and dystopic settlement, he managed <strong>the</strong> needs for <strong>the</strong> picturesque by using a<br />
circular module [Figure 56]. Wright did not adopt precise formulae to interpret <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, ra<strong>the</strong>r he was convinced that architecture "is born and not<br />
manufactured" 100 . This is <strong>the</strong> very reason why Wright was a great contemporary<br />
interpreter of Jefferson’s ideal of belonging to <strong>the</strong> land. Wright did not restrict<br />
himself to indicating <strong>the</strong> great American <strong>landscape</strong>; he saw in it <strong>the</strong> opportunity to<br />
98 PFEIFFER, Bruce Brooks, Frank Lloyd Wright 1943‐1959. The Complete Works, Cologne, Taschen,<br />
2009, p. 121<br />
99 Ibid. p. 140 and p. 146<br />
100 WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, The Future of Architecture, New York, Horizon Press, 1953, p. 213<br />
59
cultivate <strong>the</strong> architecture <strong>the</strong>re. He had no real confidence in <strong>the</strong> settlement grid<br />
spread by <strong>the</strong> Land Ordinances of <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, but he<br />
understood that it was an element to which he had to relate. Edward Frank wrote<br />
about <strong>the</strong> grid and <strong>the</strong> module: “<strong>the</strong> module was never adopted in a dogmatic<br />
sense, namely elevated at <strong>the</strong> level of a universal system. The proportions are not<br />
based uniquely, and not even in a prevailing manner, on abstract geometrical grids,<br />
but on concrete and immediate relationships: ” 101 .<br />
Therefore, Wright used Broadacre City not only to examine <strong>the</strong> nineteenth‐century<br />
pioneer’s limit, but he also grasped <strong>the</strong> potentialities of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> on <strong>the</strong> vast<br />
scale of <strong>the</strong> U.S. section, which continues to be a feature of <strong>the</strong> territory today.<br />
Broadacre ultimately represents an idea of a town and of democracy, which<br />
summarises America itself. In particular, it makes us think of <strong>the</strong> America of <strong>the</strong> vast<br />
fields and farms of <strong>the</strong> Midwest, governed by <strong>the</strong> Public Land Survey system, and it<br />
symbolizes <strong>the</strong> contradictions of America, <strong>the</strong> story of which is inseparable from <strong>the</strong><br />
movement of <strong>the</strong> car and <strong>the</strong> elevator.<br />
101 FRANK , Edward, Pensiero organico e architettura wrightiana, Bari, Dedalo libri, 1978, pp. 28‐29<br />
[translation by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian]<br />
60
Figure 45- The grid: Clarck County, Wisconsin, 2012 (view from Google Earth)
Figure 46- The grid: Livingstone County, Illionis, 2012 (view from Google Earth)
Figure 47- The grid system (Land Survey System) : <strong>the</strong> original seven ranges after Land<br />
Ordinance of 1785. Note <strong>the</strong> Ohio river is considered a natural border. At right a little one of<br />
various scheme of <strong>the</strong>oretical township diagram swowing method of numbering section with<br />
adjojning sections.<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> book by WHITE, Albert C., A History of Rectangular Survey System,<br />
Washington D.C., U.S. Government Printing Offi ce, 1991
Figure 48- Land Ordinance of 1785: scheme of <strong>the</strong>oretical township diagram swowing method<br />
of numbering sections with reserved section for public scopes.<br />
Image form <strong>the</strong> book by WHITE, Albert C., A History of Rectangular Survey System,<br />
Washington D.C., U.S. Government Printing Offi ce, 1991<br />
Figure 49- Frank Lloyd Wright, Broadacre City, plan, 1931-35: Note <strong>the</strong> dimension of Broadacre<br />
city project correspondes exactly to 4 sections of Land Ordinance
Figure 50- Frank Lloyd Wright, Broadacre City, model, 1931-35
Figure 51- Frank Lloyd Wright, Broadacre City, drawing, 1958
Figure 52- The grid and <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> city. Plan of Savannah, 1800<br />
Map from City of Savannah, Engineering Dept. John McKinnon, surveyor of Chatham County<br />
1800 CITY OF SAVANNAH AND ENVIRONS - Savannah Victorian Historic District,<br />
Bounded by Gwinnett, East Broad, West Broad Street & Anderson Lane, Savannah, Chatham<br />
County, Georgia<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 53- The wilderness and <strong>the</strong> city: a view of Savannah as it stood <strong>the</strong> 29th of March 1734<br />
(Peter Gordon, author), published in 1876<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 54- Frederick Law Olmsted, Riverside Landscape Architecture District, Chicago, 1869
Figure 55- Alexander Jackson Davis, Llewellyn Park, New Jersey, 1857
Figure 56- Frank Lloyd Wright, Parkwin village, kalamazoo, Michigan, 1947
America, or <strong>the</strong> Israel of our time<br />
><br />
With <strong>the</strong>se opening words Herman Melville began Moby Dick, one of his bestknown<br />
novels, unanimously recognized today as a masterpiece of American<br />
literature of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century. The book, also known in <strong>the</strong> English‐speaking<br />
world with <strong>the</strong> subtitle The Whale, was published for <strong>the</strong> first time in London in<br />
October 1851, printed by <strong>the</strong> editor Richard Bentley. The American edition,<br />
published by Harper & Bro<strong>the</strong>rs, New York, came out <strong>the</strong> following month.<br />
Melville recounts <strong>the</strong> voyage of <strong>the</strong> whaler Pequod and <strong>the</strong> adventures of its crew<br />
members led by <strong>the</strong> legendary and notorious Captain Achab.<br />
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago ‐ never mind how long precisely ‐<br />
having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest<br />
me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see <strong>the</strong> watery part<br />
of <strong>the</strong> world. It is a way I have of driving off <strong>the</strong> spleen, and regulating<br />
<strong>the</strong> circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about <strong>the</strong> mouth;<br />
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find<br />
myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up<br />
<strong>the</strong> rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get<br />
such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to<br />
prevent me from deliberately stepping into <strong>the</strong> street, and methodically<br />
knocking people's hats off <strong>the</strong>n, I account it high time to get to sea as<br />
soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a<br />
philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take<br />
to <strong>the</strong> ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If <strong>the</strong>y but knew it, almost<br />
all men in <strong>the</strong>ir degree, some time or o<strong>the</strong>r, cherish very nearly <strong>the</strong><br />
same feelings toward <strong>the</strong> ocean with me. 102<br />
Long sea voyages had inspired and marked <strong>the</strong> life of Melville, a central figure in <strong>the</strong><br />
intellectual life of <strong>the</strong> Nineteenth century. In 1929, Lewis Mumford himself, a<br />
careful observer of American cultural experiences and literary critic, dedicated a<br />
study 103 to him. Melville is, in fact, one of those key elements who contributed to<br />
102 MELVILLE, Herman, Moby‐Dick or, <strong>the</strong> Whale, London‐Bombay‐Sidney, Constable and Company<br />
Ltd, 1922 , p. 1 [first ed. 1851] (it. tr. edited by Cesare Pavese, Moby Dick o la Balena , Milano,<br />
Adelphi, 2004, p. 1)<br />
103 MUMFORD, Lewis, Herman Melville, New York, Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1929 (Italian translation<br />
by Loretta Valtz Mannucci, Herman Melville, Milano, Ed. di Comunità, 1965); see by same author The<br />
Golden Day: A Study of American Architecture and Civilization, New York, Boni and Liveright, 1926<br />
61
Mumford’s search for <strong>the</strong> characters of <strong>the</strong> American Mind 104 . Mumford’s attempt<br />
to clarify this was forever present in his analysis.<br />
If we read <strong>the</strong> opening passage of Moby Dick once again, we discover how Melville<br />
transferred “by sea” all <strong>the</strong> passions, anxieties and expectations of those who left<br />
for America, <strong>the</strong> New Continent in which <strong>the</strong>y could put <strong>the</strong>ir hopes and search for<br />
fortune. The peculiarity of Melville lies precisely in this specific transliteration from<br />
<strong>the</strong> land to <strong>the</strong> ocean. O<strong>the</strong>r great American intellectuals of that time, such as<br />
Emerson, Hawthorne, Thoreau and Whitman, had found stimuli in everyday<br />
experiences and places (although some of <strong>the</strong>m had travelled in Europe). It was<br />
probably those very limits and sudden socio‐political changes which had occurred in<br />
New England and <strong>the</strong> States of <strong>the</strong> Atlantic Coast, pushing migration flows towards<br />
<strong>the</strong> West, which provided a kind of inspired source for reflection.<br />
Marcus Cunliffe, in his book The Literature of <strong>the</strong> United States, observes how<br />
“years at sea, however, took Herman Melville far from <strong>the</strong> familiar world of New<br />
York and Albany" 105 and proposes a parallel with his contemporary Flaubert.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> writers’ minds, <strong>the</strong> sea recalled <strong>the</strong> epoch of <strong>the</strong> literary classics and, more<br />
prosaically, <strong>the</strong> treasures and mysteries lying in <strong>the</strong> abysses and men’s efforts to<br />
recover or reveal <strong>the</strong>m.<br />
In a letter dated March 3 rd , 1849 to Evert Duyckinck, an associated editor of <strong>the</strong><br />
Young America Movement, Melville confessed his admiration for such researchers:<br />
“I love all men who dive. Any fish can swim near <strong>the</strong> surface, but it takes a great<br />
whale to go down stairs five miles or more […] but <strong>the</strong> whole corps of thoughtdivers,<br />
that have been diving & coming up again with bloodshot eyes since <strong>the</strong><br />
world began” 106 .<br />
The indirect reference was not only to men, such as Emerson, whom Melville<br />
mentioned in his letter to his friend, but ideally also to <strong>the</strong> explorations and voyages<br />
of <strong>the</strong> first Americans, who set out for <strong>the</strong> wild, unexplored lands of <strong>the</strong> West. It<br />
104 See MUMFORD, Lewis, “Origins of American Mind”, American Mercury, vol. VIII, July 1926, pp.<br />
345‐354<br />
105 CUNLIFFE, Marcus, The Literature of <strong>the</strong> United States, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1969, p.<br />
115 (Italian translation Storia della letteratura <strong>american</strong>a, Torino, Einaudi, 1970, p. 119)<br />
106 MELVILLE, Herman in HORTH, Lynn, (ed.), Correspondence: The Writings of Herman Melville, Vol.<br />
14, Evanstone and Chicago, Northwestern University Press and The Newberry Library, 1993, p. 923<br />
62
was Melville himself who wrote a symptomatic definition in White‐Jacket (1850),<br />
which gave a significance of religious epic to <strong>the</strong> “mission” of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
pioneers:<br />
But in many things we Americans are driven to a rejection of <strong>the</strong> maxims<br />
of <strong>the</strong> Past, seeing that, ere long, <strong>the</strong> van of <strong>the</strong> nations must, of right,<br />
belong to ourselves. There are occasions when it is for America to make<br />
precedents, and not to obey <strong>the</strong>m. We should, if possible, prove a<br />
teacher to posterity, instead of being <strong>the</strong> pupil of bygone generations.<br />
More shall come after us than have gone before; <strong>the</strong> world is not yet<br />
middle‐aged. Escaped from <strong>the</strong> house of bondage, Israel of old did not<br />
follow after <strong>the</strong> ways of <strong>the</strong> Egyptians. To her was given an express<br />
dispensation; to her were given new things under <strong>the</strong> sun. And we<br />
Americans are <strong>the</strong> peculiar, chosen people <strong>the</strong> Israel of our time; we<br />
bear <strong>the</strong> ark of <strong>the</strong> liberties of <strong>the</strong> world. Seventy years ago we escaped<br />
from thrall; and, besides our first birthright embracing one continent of<br />
earth God has given to us, for a future inheritance, <strong>the</strong> broad domains of<br />
<strong>the</strong> political pagans, that shall yet come and lie down under <strong>the</strong> shade of<br />
our ark, without bloody hands being lifted. God has predestinated,<br />
mankind expects, great things from our race; and great things we feel in<br />
our souls. The rest of <strong>the</strong> nations must soon be in our rear. We are <strong>the</strong><br />
pioneers of <strong>the</strong> world; <strong>the</strong> advance‐guard, sent on through <strong>the</strong><br />
wilderness of untried things, to break a new path in <strong>the</strong> New World that<br />
is ours. In our youth is our strength; in our inexperience, our wisdom. At<br />
a period when o<strong>the</strong>r nations have but lisped, our deep voice is heard<br />
afar. Long enough have we been sceptics with regard to ourselves, and<br />
doubted whe<strong>the</strong>r, indeed, <strong>the</strong> political Messiah had come. But he has<br />
come in us, if we would but give utterance to his promptings. And let us<br />
always remember that with ourselves, almost for <strong>the</strong> first time in <strong>the</strong><br />
history of earth, national selfishness is unbounded philanthropy; for we<br />
cannot do a good to America, but we give alms to <strong>the</strong> world. 107<br />
Therefore, when referring to his experiences as a sailor on board various naval<br />
expeditions, Melville did, however, interpret <strong>the</strong> American animus of his time.<br />
Melville not only understood <strong>the</strong> mystical fascination represented by a voyage and<br />
<strong>the</strong> unknown, but since his first writing: Typee: A Peep at Polynesian Life (1846),<br />
he also proposed stories, which sounded almost like calls to a free life in touch<br />
with nature, yet with <strong>the</strong> addition of a modern documentary‐like fascination.<br />
Melville occasionally decided to add pages which were scientific in style in order to<br />
tell <strong>the</strong> "truth", and in Typee he also added a geographical chart. The fascination of<br />
107 MELVILLE, Herman, White Jacket, or <strong>the</strong> World in a Man of War, London, Bombay, Sidney,<br />
Constable and Company Ltd, 1922 (first ed. 1850) p. 189<br />
63
<strong>the</strong> “revelation” can also be seen, however, in Moby Dick, in which as before <strong>the</strong><br />
reader was not spared long, technical, encyclopaedic and sometimes even<br />
pedantic digressions, but most of all <strong>the</strong> protagonists were given names which<br />
could suggest <strong>the</strong> significance of <strong>the</strong> entire voyage narrated. If <strong>the</strong> message in<br />
Typee was represented by <strong>the</strong> desertion from <strong>the</strong> ship to a savage world, a new,<br />
uncontaminated land, Moby Dick, recalled <strong>the</strong> real expeditions to <strong>the</strong> West by<br />
using <strong>the</strong> epic allegory of <strong>the</strong> sea voyage.<br />
It could be said, <strong>the</strong>refore, that whereas Achab looked for <strong>the</strong> meaning of his life<br />
in <strong>the</strong> obscure depths of <strong>the</strong> Ocean, <strong>the</strong> pioneer searched for <strong>the</strong>m at <strong>the</strong> frontier<br />
and in <strong>the</strong> wilderness. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, Achab, Elijah, Gabriel and Ishmael were,<br />
without any doubt, names taken from <strong>the</strong> Scriptures, but such names were<br />
common in New England and Melville has legitimately taken some elements from<br />
daily life, thus creating a tension between <strong>the</strong> narrative and news of <strong>the</strong> time.<br />
To this sometimes candid and partially unconscious search for truth, he was able<br />
to add both <strong>the</strong> “biblical” message and at <strong>the</strong> same time <strong>the</strong> calling, which<br />
animated <strong>the</strong> Americans of that time, by reworking his personal experiences.<br />
Naturally we are aware of <strong>the</strong> limits of <strong>the</strong> proposed reading. It is clear that <strong>the</strong><br />
voyages told by Melville are nei<strong>the</strong>r simple chronicles, nor a literary expedient, nor<br />
even a naïve desire to evoke <strong>the</strong> religious world. They are understandably voyages<br />
and adventures with a universal significance, just as a universal significance can be<br />
ascribed to <strong>the</strong> explorers of <strong>the</strong> unknown lands of <strong>the</strong> West. All <strong>the</strong> possible<br />
interpretations of those events show <strong>the</strong> conflict between a desire of affirmation<br />
over nature and a fear of <strong>the</strong> unknown.<br />
Jean Baudrillard, in his well‐known essay Amérique (1986), highlights <strong>the</strong><br />
relationships between social, historical and economical changes which have<br />
formed part of <strong>the</strong> formation of <strong>the</strong> American vocation of appointing itself as a<br />
utopia come true. A land of age‐old religious experiences and confirmations, a<br />
symbol of <strong>the</strong> zero degree of European culture:<br />
“In <strong>the</strong> opinion of <strong>the</strong> European, America continues to remain a latent<br />
form of exile, a ghost of emigration and exile, and <strong>the</strong>refore a form of<br />
internalisation of its culture. At <strong>the</strong> same time, it corresponds to a<br />
violent extroversion and <strong>the</strong>refore to zero degree of <strong>the</strong> very same<br />
64
culture. No o<strong>the</strong>r country gives rise to this process of both<br />
discrimination and exacerbation, of radicalisation, of <strong>the</strong> essential<br />
details of our European cultures... What had remained critical and<br />
religious esotericism in Europe, in <strong>the</strong> New Continent transforms itself<br />
into pragmatic esotericism, thanks to a sudden jolt, or to a twist of a<br />
geographic exile, which imitates in <strong>the</strong> founding countries of <strong>the</strong> 17 th<br />
century, man’s voluntary exile into his own conscience. All <strong>the</strong> American<br />
principles respond to this twofold movement to develop moral law in<br />
peoples’ consciences, and to radicalise <strong>the</strong> everlasting, utopian need of<br />
<strong>the</strong> sects and <strong>the</strong> immediate materialisation of this utopia in<br />
employment, customs and life style. To touch down in America still<br />
means to land in this “religion” of <strong>the</strong> way of life Tocqueville spoke of 108 .<br />
The dynamics between <strong>the</strong> moral needs contained in this visualization of America<br />
and utopian idealizations are well founded. The vast American spaces have over <strong>the</strong><br />
years offered opportunities to build a complex relationship with <strong>the</strong> environment.<br />
As we have seen before, this relationship had become clear over time as<br />
architectural models linked to <strong>the</strong> agricultural practices were defined and as town<br />
planning <strong>the</strong> settlements evolved.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> basis of <strong>the</strong> reasoning followed so far, <strong>the</strong> city acquires even fur<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> role<br />
of a place of conflict and of a warning for <strong>the</strong> American intellectual. It was always<br />
going to be <strong>the</strong> Europeans, who found <strong>the</strong> fascination and <strong>the</strong> disenchantment of<br />
<strong>the</strong> contemporary myth in <strong>the</strong> metropolis, <strong>the</strong> skyscrapers and new materials.<br />
If <strong>the</strong> city, especially Paris, is <strong>the</strong> object of cultural interests and becomes <strong>landscape</strong><br />
in Europe at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, in America people show a similar<br />
interest not so much in built‐up area, but in <strong>the</strong> unexplored territories and show <strong>the</strong><br />
same amazement at <strong>the</strong> wilderness as <strong>the</strong> former do at metropolitan life. Later, at<br />
<strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century, <strong>the</strong> object of interest shifted to <strong>the</strong><br />
“suburb”, namely to <strong>the</strong> process of decentralization and promotion of idealized<br />
rural life.<br />
108 BAUDRILLARD, Jean, Amerique, Editions Grasset & Fasquelle, 1986 (it. tr. by Laura Guarino,<br />
L’America, Milano, Feltrinelli, 1987, p. 63) [english text translated by <strong>the</strong> editor from italian]; See<br />
TOCQUEVILLE, Alexis de, De la democrazie en Amerique, Paris, 1835‐1840 (en. tr. by Henry Reeve,<br />
Democracy in America, New York, The Colonial Press, 1900); (Italian translation La Democrazia in<br />
America, edited by Giorgio Candeloro, Milano, Rizzoli, 2010)<br />
65
The old vestiges of <strong>the</strong> town admired by Victor Hugo in Notre‐Dame de Paris (1831)<br />
fell into ruin to make room for <strong>the</strong> contemporary metropolis described by<br />
Benjamin:<br />
The street conducts <strong>the</strong> flâneur into a vanished time […]. Like an ascetic<br />
animal, he flits through unknown districts – until, utterly exhausted, he<br />
stumbles into his room, which receives him coldly and wears a strange<br />
air. Paris created <strong>the</strong> type of <strong>the</strong> flâneur […] <strong>the</strong>y <strong>the</strong>mselves, <strong>the</strong><br />
Parisians, who have made Paris <strong>the</strong> promised land of <strong>the</strong> flâneur – <strong>the</strong><br />
“<strong>landscape</strong> built of sheer life”, as Hofmannsthal once put it. Landscape –<br />
that, in fact, is what Paris becomes for <strong>the</strong> flâneur. Or, more precisely:<br />
<strong>the</strong> city splits for him into its dialectical poles. It opens up to him as a<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, even as it closes around him as a room 109 .<br />
The natural <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> flâneur is <strong>the</strong> contemporary metropolis, that of <strong>the</strong><br />
pioneer is <strong>the</strong> wildness 110 , <strong>the</strong> world told by Thoreau and interpreted by Emerson.<br />
A long, elaborate cinematography interprets this process, first with <strong>the</strong> vast<br />
productions of westerns, followed more recently by sophisticated post‐modern<br />
productions.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> book La frontiera contro la metropoli (2010) [The frontier versus <strong>the</strong><br />
metropolis] Emiliano Ilardi analyses <strong>the</strong>se phenomena from <strong>the</strong> current point of<br />
view, lingering over <strong>the</strong> structural inconsistencies of present‐day suburbs in <strong>the</strong> U.S.<br />
The European suburb is <strong>the</strong> result of specific social policies, nearly always <strong>the</strong><br />
consequence of <strong>the</strong> expulsion of <strong>the</strong> less well‐off classes from <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
In America, <strong>the</strong> opposite process has taken place: “The [American – editor’s note]<br />
state does not have <strong>the</strong> power to solve <strong>the</strong> internal conflicts; it may only offer new<br />
spaces, <strong>the</strong>refore it is <strong>the</strong> rich classes that rush to <strong>the</strong> periphery raising a wall to<br />
contain <strong>the</strong> poor and conflictual centre. In a cult film such as 1997: Escape from<br />
New York (1981) by John Carpenter <strong>the</strong> urban centre represented by Manhattan<br />
109 BENJAMIN, Walter, The Arcades Project, translated by Howard Eiland and Kevin McLaughin,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press,<br />
1999, cit. pp. 416‐417 (first publication of Benjamin’s papers edited by Rolf Tiedemann, Das<br />
Passagen‐Werk, 1982; Italian translation Parigi, capitale del XIX secolo, Turin, Einaudi, 1986)<br />
110 See SCHAMA, Simon, Landscape and memory, London, Harper Collins, 1995 (Italian translation by<br />
Paola Mazzarelli, Paesaggio e memoria, Milano, Mondadori, 1997)<br />
66
island is so out of control that it is closed from <strong>the</strong> outside and transformed in a<br />
giant penitentiary” 111 .<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, Ilardi highlights <strong>the</strong> fact that one of <strong>the</strong> most widespread town<br />
planning models in <strong>the</strong> U.S.A. in <strong>the</strong> last decades is <strong>the</strong> CID, Common Interest<br />
development. “A series of agency put in touch a group of citizens with <strong>the</strong> same age,<br />
<strong>the</strong> same taste or who simply share <strong>the</strong> same idea of dwelling […] at that point <strong>the</strong>y<br />
buy a plot of land and <strong>the</strong>y privatise it” 112 . The idea of <strong>the</strong> Promised Land is<br />
reflected over time with more immediate and materialistic versions. These<br />
attempts establish a behaviour, which has to be interpreted as <strong>the</strong> umpteenth<br />
effort to repeat <strong>the</strong> utopian experiments of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, typical of <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier era.<br />
However, toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> particular development model recalled by Ilardi, we<br />
have to remember those planning activities called CDP, census‐designated places,<br />
namely <strong>the</strong> radicalization and <strong>the</strong> establishment of <strong>the</strong> dream of equality. This<br />
generated models to organise urban space which, in reality, incorporated all <strong>the</strong><br />
defects of <strong>the</strong> town, creating places that simply refused social dialectical skills by<br />
fancifully abolishing <strong>the</strong> problem. The urban shapes created by such settlements are<br />
limited to a few stereotyped, sometimes closed and militarized variations, very<br />
often dystopic, <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> psyche and of <strong>the</strong> market more than of nature.<br />
The phenomenon of American antiurbanism is related to <strong>the</strong>se contradictions in <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship man‐nature‐city: it is not a simply opposition to urbanism but suggests<br />
particular forms of association and Weltanschauung.<br />
In his researches Michael J. Thompson shows how “antiurbanism is, <strong>the</strong>n, a product<br />
not only of certain political and economic interests, it is also a product of certain<br />
forms of consciousness” 113 : more than an intellectual tradition or a conservative<br />
reaction to modernity product of <strong>the</strong> fear of city (and her life‐style).<br />
111 ILARDI, Emiliano, La frontiera contro la metropoli; spazi, media e politica nell’ immaginario urbano<br />
<strong>american</strong>o, Napoli, Liguori Editore, 2010, p.73‐74 [English text translated by <strong>the</strong> editor from Italian]<br />
112 Ibid.<br />
113 THOMPSON, Michael J. (ed.), Fleeing <strong>the</strong> City. Studies in <strong>the</strong> Culture and Politics of Antiurbanism,<br />
New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, p. 12<br />
67
At this point we should not be surprised by <strong>the</strong> film The Truman Show (1998), a<br />
refined American cinematographic production, which goes over and merges <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong>mes of <strong>the</strong> gated communities with <strong>the</strong> equally relevant problems raised by <strong>the</strong><br />
reality shows, to propose True‐man as protagonist, who is capable of showing <strong>the</strong><br />
same non‐conformist reactions that stoked <strong>the</strong> souls of Thoreau or Whitman.<br />
A similar observation could be made that <strong>the</strong> film Into <strong>the</strong> Wild (2007) shows a true<br />
story, telling not only <strong>the</strong> real journey undertaken by <strong>the</strong> young protagonist<br />
towards <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of wilderness, but also a wider story, which begins with <strong>the</strong><br />
vicissitudes of <strong>the</strong> pioneers and continues with <strong>the</strong> stories of true free spirits, such<br />
as Jack London and Jack Kerouac.<br />
In o<strong>the</strong>r words, <strong>the</strong> various concepts of nature as Eden or as wild lands have fired<br />
<strong>the</strong> deep‐set, American religious feeling for <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, with <strong>the</strong> contradictory<br />
results repeatedly mentioned previously.<br />
68
Utopian experiments and perspective Eden<br />
The idealization of biblical origin was followed by numerous episodes of settlement<br />
and urbanization of <strong>the</strong> wild lands. As already mentioned in previous paragraphs,<br />
America attracted a countless variety of reformers, persecuted people and fanatics.<br />
The first to search for utopia were <strong>the</strong> Huguenots, French Protestants who started<br />
to settle in America from <strong>the</strong> second half of <strong>the</strong> sixteenth century, creating<br />
communities toge<strong>the</strong>r with o<strong>the</strong>r victims of religious persecution, such as <strong>the</strong><br />
Brownists and Puritans or French Walloons.<br />
In 1741, <strong>the</strong> Moravians founded Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and o<strong>the</strong>r settlements<br />
inspired by it (Nazareth in 1742 and Lititz in 1757), all featuring a <strong>building</strong> called<br />
Gemeinhaus. In city of Bethlehem, as Reps claimed, "designed as a community<br />
center, this <strong>building</strong> also served as a church, town hall, hospice and office for church<br />
affairs. Two years later a large dormitory for single men was built, several small<br />
houses were completed, and gradually <strong>the</strong> town began to take form” 114 .<br />
The Lu<strong>the</strong>rans also began to build numerous settlements. In 1803, a group from a<br />
small dissident sect, <strong>the</strong> Harmony Society led by George Rapp (1757‐1847), founded<br />
<strong>the</strong> first Lu<strong>the</strong>ran settlement called Harmony, a simple checkerboard surrounded by<br />
5,000 acres of land in Western Pennsylvania. Later, with <strong>the</strong> arrival of new settlers,<br />
<strong>the</strong>y decided to move, after having sold <strong>the</strong> land in 1814 and founded <strong>the</strong> thriving<br />
community of New Harmony on land more suitable for agriculture along <strong>the</strong><br />
Wabash River in Indiana. However, in 1825 <strong>the</strong> Harmonists decided to sell <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
properties to Robert Owen (1771‐1858) and founded <strong>the</strong> town of Economy in<br />
Pennsylvania [Figure 57]. These three Harmonist towns are strictly linked with<br />
water, as <strong>the</strong>y were built close to rivers. From a town planning point of view, <strong>the</strong>y<br />
have no elements of particular interest. However, <strong>the</strong> unusual relationship<br />
established between architecture and <strong>the</strong> green spaces was unusual.<br />
114 REPS, John William, Town Planning in Frontier America, Princeton, University Press, 1965, p. 391<br />
(Italian translation by M. Terni, S. Magistretti, La costruzione dell’ America urbana; introduction by<br />
Francesco Dal Co, Milano: Franco Angeli, 1976, p. 323)<br />
69
Economy was described by Charles Nordhoff in his book The Communistic Societies<br />
of <strong>the</strong> United States (1875) as a small charming village devoted to breeding <strong>the</strong> silkworm:<br />
The vicinity to Pittsburgh, and cheap water communication, encouraged<br />
<strong>the</strong>m in manufacturing. Economy lay upon <strong>the</strong> main stage‐road, and was<br />
thus an important and presently a favorite stopping ‐ place; <strong>the</strong> colonists<br />
found kindly neighbors; <strong>the</strong>re was sufficient young blood in <strong>the</strong><br />
community to give enterprise and strength; and " we sang songs every<br />
day, and had music every evening," said old Mr. Keppler to me,<br />
recounting <strong>the</strong> glories of those days. They erected woolen and cotton<br />
mills, a grist‐mill and saw‐mill; <strong>the</strong>y planted orchards and vineyards; <strong>the</strong>y<br />
began <strong>the</strong> culture of silk, and with such success that soon <strong>the</strong> Sunday<br />
dress of men as well as women was of silk, grown, reeled, spun, and<br />
woven by <strong>the</strong>mselves. 115<br />
In describing <strong>the</strong> village, situated in a place sheltered from <strong>the</strong> cold winter winds,<br />
Nordhoff spoke of <strong>the</strong> trees, which had been deliberately planted along <strong>the</strong> river,<br />
and described <strong>the</strong> plain but pleasant houses, each with a garden. But he also dwelt<br />
on one significant detail: “The houses, substantially built but unpretentious, are<br />
beautified by a singular arrangement of grape‐vines, which are trained to espaliers<br />
fixed to cover <strong>the</strong> space between <strong>the</strong> top of <strong>the</strong> lower and <strong>the</strong> bottom of <strong>the</strong> upper<br />
windows. This manner of training vines gives <strong>the</strong> town quite a peculiar look, as<br />
though <strong>the</strong> houses had been crowned with green” 116 .<br />
He was so impressed by <strong>the</strong> integration of greenery in <strong>the</strong> façades of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s,<br />
that he highlighted <strong>the</strong> effect in <strong>the</strong> illustrations in <strong>the</strong> chapter concerning <strong>the</strong><br />
Harmonists [Figure 57]. Simple pruning of <strong>the</strong> vines with some anchorage to <strong>the</strong><br />
wall enabled <strong>the</strong> plants to form a natural cover to <strong>the</strong> house, where small birds<br />
frequently made <strong>the</strong>ir nests. The industrious inhabitants of Economy had used<br />
limited means to obtain an effect, sought nowadays by many trendsetting architects<br />
with <strong>the</strong> help of specialist consultants. Nei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> sophisticated substrata of<br />
contemporary vertical walls, nor <strong>the</strong> complicated irrigation systems may be<br />
115 NORDHOFF, Charles, The Communistic Societies of <strong>the</strong> United States, from personal visit and<br />
observation, London, John Murray, 1875, p.77<br />
116 Ibid. p. 64 (this second quotation is also in Reps, Town Planning in Frontier America, with o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
sentences previously taken from Nordhoff’s book, but Reps does not comment on <strong>landscape</strong>)<br />
70
considered really wise and environmentally friendly choices, no matter how alluring<br />
<strong>the</strong>y may appear.<br />
Robert Owen, a well‐known representative of <strong>the</strong> so‐called utopian socialism, was<br />
instead <strong>the</strong> person responsible for <strong>the</strong> failure of New Harmony. His American<br />
projects were never fully completed, but most of all <strong>the</strong>y did not reap any benefit<br />
from <strong>the</strong> typical solidarity of members of <strong>the</strong> religious movements. Several<br />
dissident societies were thus born from his experiment, all of which failed in <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
intentions to reform. Although both Owen and his followers persevered for several<br />
decades, <strong>the</strong>y proved to be merely <strong>the</strong>oreticians. These failures do not diminish <strong>the</strong><br />
central role played by Owen's <strong>the</strong>ories as a social reformer and a forerunner of<br />
scientific socialism.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> relationship which <strong>the</strong>se settlements had created with <strong>the</strong><br />
environment and with nature di not prove to be of any significance, as <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> was not a <strong>the</strong>oretical condition as were <strong>the</strong> social relationships to be<br />
built.<br />
A destiny similar to Owen's was suffered by <strong>the</strong> followers of Charles Fourier (1772‐<br />
1837) and Etienne Cabet (1788‐1856), whose ideas penetrated deep into American<br />
society in <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century.<br />
In New York at <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong> 1840s, Albert Brisbane (1809‐1890), an<br />
American utopian socialist, published a journal called The Phalanx; or Journal of<br />
Social Science, whereas Horace Greeley (1811‐1872), publisher in <strong>the</strong> same period<br />
of <strong>the</strong> New York Tribune, was a promoter of various experimental communities<br />
based on Fourier’s ideas. Fourier’s phalanxes found space in settlements featuring<br />
unitary construction devices, <strong>the</strong> Phalanxes, which opposed <strong>the</strong> idea of towns based<br />
on individual houses.<br />
This <strong>the</strong>oretical town planning is also of unquestionable importance and many<br />
authors, such as Lewis Mumford in The Story of Utopias (1922), Francoise Choay in<br />
L’urbanisme: utopies et realites (1965), Leonardo Benevolo in Le origini<br />
dell’Urbanistica Moderna (1963) [The Origins of Modern Town Planning], have<br />
discussed <strong>the</strong> development and <strong>the</strong> description of <strong>the</strong> utopian socialists’ ideas.<br />
71
Among <strong>the</strong> 41 Fourier‐type communities founded in <strong>the</strong> early decades of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century, <strong>the</strong> case of Brook Farm (1841), West Roxbury, Massachusetts,<br />
is probably <strong>the</strong> most meaningful for our discussion, precisely for <strong>the</strong> influence it<br />
exercised on <strong>the</strong> New England transcendentalists, <strong>the</strong> first intellectuals capable of<br />
establishing <strong>the</strong> philosophical foundations of <strong>the</strong> concept of <strong>landscape</strong> in America.<br />
Brook Farm was founded by George Ripley, a Unitarian minister. He envisaged a<br />
community working as a kind of stock company, to which people contributed in<br />
proportion of <strong>the</strong>ir manual and intellectual work, and <strong>the</strong>y were paid on <strong>the</strong> basis of<br />
<strong>the</strong> principles of equality between men and women.<br />
Some of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s were identified with names which recalled elements of <strong>the</strong><br />
natural world; “<strong>the</strong> hive” was <strong>the</strong> hall for social activities and "<strong>the</strong> nest" was where<br />
school classes were held and where some of <strong>the</strong> guests of <strong>the</strong> community were<br />
accommodated.<br />
Nathaniel Hawthorne was among its members for a short period. Disappointed with<br />
<strong>the</strong> experience, <strong>the</strong> American writer used his recollections in The Bli<strong>the</strong>dale<br />
Romance (1852), a love story set in an Arcadian world, <strong>the</strong> failure of which appears<br />
from <strong>the</strong> very first pages. The inhabitants of this bli<strong>the</strong> dale reflect Hawthorne’s<br />
gloomy resentment for having adhered to an enterprise which satisfied <strong>the</strong> spirit<br />
(comforted by <strong>the</strong> blossoming gardens and by <strong>the</strong> contact with nature), but which<br />
was of no benefit to <strong>the</strong> body:<br />
Emerging into <strong>the</strong> genial sunshine, I half fancied that <strong>the</strong> labors of <strong>the</strong><br />
bro<strong>the</strong>rhood had already realized some of Fourier's predictions. Their<br />
enlightened culture of <strong>the</strong> soil, and <strong>the</strong> virtues with which <strong>the</strong>y<br />
sanctified <strong>the</strong>ir life, had begun to produce an effect upon <strong>the</strong> material<br />
world and its climate. In my new enthusiasm, man looked strong and<br />
stately,—and woman, O how beautiful! —and <strong>the</strong> earth a green garden,<br />
blossoming with many‐colored delights. Thus Nature, whose laws I had<br />
broken in various artificial ways, comported herself towards me as a<br />
strict but loving mo<strong>the</strong>r, who uses <strong>the</strong> rod upon her little boy for his<br />
naughtiness, and <strong>the</strong>n gives him a smile, a kiss, and some pretty<br />
playthings, to console <strong>the</strong> urchin for her severity. In <strong>the</strong> interval of my<br />
seclusion, <strong>the</strong>re had been a number of recruits to our little army of<br />
saints and martyrs. They were mostly individuals who had gone through<br />
such an experience as to disgust <strong>the</strong>m with ordinary pursuits, but who<br />
were not yet so old, nor had suffered so deeply, as to lose <strong>the</strong>ir faith in<br />
<strong>the</strong> better time to come […] Arcadians though we were, our costume<br />
bore no resemblance to <strong>the</strong> be‐ribboned doublets, silk breeches and<br />
72
stockings, and slippers fastened with artificial roses, that distinguish <strong>the</strong><br />
pastoral people of poetry and <strong>the</strong> stage. In outward show, I humbly<br />
conceive, we looked ra<strong>the</strong>r like a gang of beggars, or banditti, than<br />
ei<strong>the</strong>r a company of honest laboring men, or a conclave of philosophers.<br />
Whatever might be our points of difference, we all of us seemed to have<br />
come to Bli<strong>the</strong>dale with <strong>the</strong> one thrifty and laudable idea of wearing out<br />
our old clo<strong>the</strong>s. 117<br />
Ironically we could make a parallel with <strong>the</strong> Taliesin community founded by Frank<br />
Lloyd Wright in Spring Green (1911‐1959). Besides, <strong>the</strong> outcome of some of<br />
Wright’s convictions, in particular <strong>the</strong> relationship between man and nature, is<br />
probably to be attributed not only to his religious creed, but also to his cultural<br />
references. As is well‐known, Wright, a Unitarian like George Ripley, offered hard<br />
living conditions, and forced his collaborators and <strong>the</strong> apprentices of <strong>the</strong> Taliesin<br />
Fellowship (established in 1932) to perform physical labour in <strong>the</strong> fields and/or in<br />
<strong>the</strong> construction of new <strong>building</strong>s‐pavilions: many details of <strong>the</strong>se events are told by<br />
Wright himself in his autobiography 118 .<br />
The comparison between Brook Farm and Taliesin is suggested mainly by a fire. The<br />
Phalanstery of Brook Farm, just built in 1846, was completely destroyed by <strong>the</strong><br />
flames <strong>the</strong> very evening of its inauguration. Ripley‘s community thus set out on <strong>the</strong><br />
sad road towards <strong>the</strong> sunset, which took place definitively in 1849, when <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>building</strong>s and <strong>the</strong> land were auctioned. Even considering <strong>the</strong> different outcomes of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Taliesin fires, a similar destiny was reserved several times to Wright's<br />
<strong>building</strong>s 119 .<br />
An experience of similar interest is that already mentioned of Fruitlands, Harvard,<br />
Massachusetts (1843), founded by Charles Lane and Amos Bronson Alcott on <strong>the</strong><br />
basis of <strong>the</strong> transcendentalist principles, a few miles from Concord, a spiritual<br />
centre of <strong>the</strong> American intellectuals of <strong>the</strong> time.<br />
Lane, who was of English origin and an admirer of Alcott’s ideas regarding <strong>the</strong><br />
education of <strong>the</strong> minors, was <strong>the</strong> “preacher” and <strong>the</strong> promoter of <strong>the</strong> experiment.<br />
117 HOWTHORNE, Nathaniel, The Bli<strong>the</strong>dale Romance, Boston, Ticknor, Reed and Fields, 1852, cit. pp.<br />
74‐76<br />
118 WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, An Autobiography, New York, Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1943 (Italian<br />
translation by Bruno Oddera, Un’Autobiografia, Milan, Editoriale Jaca Book, 2003)<br />
119 See McCARTER, Robert, Frank Lloyd Wright, London, Reaktion Books Ltd, 2006; and WRIGHT,<br />
Frank Lloyd, An Autobiography, New York, Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1943<br />
73
He purchased 90 acres of land, but his enterprise and autonomy soon caused<br />
resentment 120 . The ideas of Fruitlands community life put respect for nature and<br />
animals at <strong>the</strong> centre of existence in a radical and extremist manner. A harsh life<br />
followed. By listing just some of <strong>the</strong> rules practiced, we can understand <strong>the</strong><br />
conditions: a vegetarian‐vegan diet, linen dresses (cotton was not used to avoid<br />
favouring slavery indirectly), economic autarchy and animals exempted from<br />
agricultural labour.<br />
There were a handful of members, among whom Samuel Bower, an extrovert who<br />
left after few months, during which he was convinced definitively to practice<br />
nudism as an extreme act of freedom, and Joseph Palmer who fought publicly for<br />
<strong>the</strong> right to wear a thick, unkempt beard 121 . No fur<strong>the</strong>r comments are needed to<br />
understand <strong>the</strong> failure of <strong>the</strong> enterprise. Louise May Alcott (1832‐1888), <strong>the</strong><br />
daughter of one of <strong>the</strong> founders and authoress of <strong>the</strong> famous novel Little Women<br />
(1868), told many years after of her experience as a child at Fruitlands in<br />
Transcendental Wild Oats (1873) 122 . By using fantasy names for her fa<strong>the</strong>r (Mr. Abel<br />
Lamb) and Charles Lane (Mr. Timon Lion), she recalls <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong> community in<br />
<strong>the</strong>se words:<br />
[…] <strong>the</strong>se modern pilgrims journeyed hopefully out of <strong>the</strong> old world, to<br />
found a new one in <strong>the</strong> wilderness. The editors of "The Transcendental<br />
Tripod" had received from Messrs. Lion & Lamb (two of <strong>the</strong> aforesaid<br />
pilgrims) a communication from which <strong>the</strong> following statement is an<br />
extract: "We have made arrangements with <strong>the</strong> proprietor of an estate<br />
of about a hundred acres which liberates this tract from human<br />
ownership. Here we shall prose cute our effort to initiate a Family in<br />
harmony with <strong>the</strong> primitive instincts of man. Ordinary secular farming is<br />
not our object. Fruit, grain, pulse, herbs, flax, and o<strong>the</strong>r vegetable<br />
products, receiving assiduous attention, will afford ample manual<br />
occupation, and chaste supplies for <strong>the</strong> bodily needs. It is intended to<br />
adorn <strong>the</strong> pastures with orchards and to supersede <strong>the</strong> labor of cattle by<br />
<strong>the</strong> spade and <strong>the</strong> pruning‐knife. Consecrated to human freedom, <strong>the</strong><br />
land awaits <strong>the</strong> sober culture of devoted men. Beginning with small<br />
120 See EDGELL, David P., “Charles Lane at Fruitlands”, The New England Quarterly, Vol. 33, N. 3 (Sep.,<br />
1960), pp. 374‐377<br />
121 See FRANCIS, Richard, Transcendental Utopias, Individual and Community at Brook Farm,<br />
Fruitlands, and Walden, New York, Cornell University Press, 1997<br />
122 See MATTESON, John, Eden’s outcasts: <strong>the</strong> story of Louisa May Alcott and her Fa<strong>the</strong>r, New York,<br />
Nortin & Company, 2008; and SEARS, Endicott Clara (ed.), Bronson Alcott’s Fruitlands, Boston,<br />
Houghton Mifflin Company, 1915<br />
74
pecuniary means, this enterprise must be rooted in a reliance on <strong>the</strong><br />
succors of an ever‐bounteous Providence, whose vital affinities being<br />
secured by this union with uncorrupted field and Unworldly persons, <strong>the</strong><br />
cares and injuries of a life of gain are avoided. The inner nature of each<br />
member of <strong>the</strong> Family is at no time neglected. Our plan contemplates all<br />
such disciplines, cultures, and habits as evidently conduce to <strong>the</strong><br />
purifying of <strong>the</strong> inmates. Pledged to <strong>the</strong> spirit alone, <strong>the</strong> founders<br />
anticipate no hasty or numerous addition to <strong>the</strong>ir numbers. The<br />
kingdom of peace is entered only through <strong>the</strong> gates of self‐denial; and<br />
felicity is <strong>the</strong> test and <strong>the</strong> reward of loyalty to <strong>the</strong> unswerving law of<br />
Love”. This prospective Eden at present consisted of an old red farmhouse,<br />
a dilapidated barn, many acres of meadow‐land, and a grove. Ten<br />
ancient apple‐trees were all <strong>the</strong> "chaste supply" which <strong>the</strong> place offered<br />
as yet; but, in <strong>the</strong> firm belief that plenteous orchards were soon to be<br />
evoked from <strong>the</strong>ir inner consciousness, <strong>the</strong>se sanguine founders had<br />
christened <strong>the</strong>ir domain Fruitlands 123 .<br />
After approximately seven months, Fruitlands was abandoned, but it was to<br />
represent a crucial meeting point between converging ideologies. Ralph Waldo<br />
Emerson, <strong>the</strong> main <strong>the</strong>orist of transcendentalism, not only knew perfectly <strong>the</strong><br />
experiment at Fruitlands, but following its failure helped Alcott in settling again in<br />
Concord. Emerson was also aware of <strong>the</strong> decision of Charles Lane to join <strong>the</strong><br />
Shakers, who had several communities around Concord. 124 . The various<br />
communities described previously reconnected directly or indirectly with <strong>the</strong><br />
analogous <strong>the</strong>ories of <strong>the</strong> utopian socialists, and recalled <strong>the</strong> rules of daily life<br />
already practiced by <strong>the</strong> Shakers.<br />
An essay by Priscilla Brewer speaks of this very interweaving of <strong>the</strong>ories and how<br />
<strong>the</strong>y influenced Emerson's ideas: “Searching for ways to change <strong>the</strong> system,<br />
Emerson encountered <strong>the</strong> socialist schemes of Robert Owen and Charles Fourier,<br />
and in trying to locate successful examples of socialism in America, he remembered<br />
123 ALCOTT, Louisa May, “Trascendental Wild Oats” published in Silver Pitchers: and Independence, A<br />
Centennial Love Story, Boston, Roberts Bro<strong>the</strong>rs, 1876, pp. 80‐81<br />
124 Near Concord, <strong>the</strong> city where Emerson lived, <strong>the</strong>re were various Shaker towns. One of <strong>the</strong>se is <strong>the</strong><br />
community of Canterbury, 12 miles north‐east of Elms. Charles Edson Robinson writes about it:<br />
“From this point on, for ten miles to <strong>the</strong> Shaker village, we pass up a gradual rise of land until we<br />
reach <strong>the</strong> Shaker settlement. On <strong>the</strong> way, we pass some of <strong>the</strong> best farms in <strong>the</strong> Granite State. The<br />
Shaker village itself has a wonderfully clean and neat appearance. The houses, church, school<br />
<strong>building</strong>, workshops, barns, stables and sheds are kept in <strong>the</strong> best of repair, showing unmistakable<br />
evidence in every department that <strong>the</strong> followers of Ann Lee are grounded in <strong>the</strong> faith that<br />
"cleanliness is next to godliness". ROBINSON, Charles Edson, A Concise History of The United Society<br />
of Believers, called Shakers, East Canterbury, 1893, p. 110<br />
75
<strong>the</strong> Shakers. After an 1842 visit to <strong>the</strong> Harvard community with Hawthorne,<br />
Emerson concluded, . In harmony as he was with <strong>the</strong> rapidly shifting<br />
intellectual , Emerson gradually found more and more in<br />
Shakerism that impressed him”. 125<br />
We can add that <strong>the</strong> list of Emerson’s readings reveals how well he had known<br />
Fourier’s and Owen’s publications since 1840, <strong>the</strong> year in which he published a<br />
review of <strong>the</strong> essay Social Destiny of Man by Albert Brisbane (1840) in <strong>the</strong> October<br />
issue of The Dial. In July two years later, he published an article entitled “Fourierism<br />
and <strong>the</strong> Socialists” in <strong>the</strong> same magazine. 126 However, <strong>the</strong> most intense of<br />
Emerson’s meditations regarding <strong>the</strong>se social experiments remains his famous<br />
lecture “New England Reformers”, which he gave at Amory Hall in Boston on March<br />
3rd, 1844: “These new associations are composed of men and women of superior<br />
talents and sentiments […] but remember that no society can ever be so large as<br />
one man” 127 . Although he highlighted some of <strong>the</strong> merits of <strong>the</strong> utopians during <strong>the</strong><br />
conference, Emerson revealed his perplexities about <strong>the</strong> community life <strong>the</strong>y<br />
proposed. He thought, in fact, that a man influenced by habits and rules, searching<br />
for alliances “external" to his spirit, could not express his own will and his own<br />
individuality in full. This also gave rise to <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>oretical justification and <strong>the</strong><br />
premise at <strong>the</strong> start of Thoreau’s Walden Experiment, <strong>the</strong> community of just one<br />
man: “The union is only perfect, when all <strong>the</strong> uniters are isolated. It is <strong>the</strong> union of<br />
friends who live in different streets or towns […] Government will be adamantine<br />
without any governor. The union must be ideal in actual individualism” 128 .<br />
By suggesting a provocative, anarchical solution, Emerson set <strong>the</strong> terms of <strong>the</strong><br />
American relationship between democracy and <strong>the</strong> individual, which was <strong>the</strong> object<br />
125 BREWER, Priscilla J., “ Emerson, Lane, and <strong>the</strong> Shakers: A Case of Converging Ideologies”,<br />
published in The New England Quarterly, Vol. 55, No. 2 (Jun., 1982), pp. 254‐275; p. 258<br />
126 See FLANAGAN, John T., “Emerson and Communism”, The New England Quarterly, Vol. 10, No. 2<br />
(Jun., 1937), pp. 243‐261<br />
127 See EMERSON, Ralph Waldo, Essays, Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1894<br />
(first ed. 1854 and 1876) p. 213<br />
128 Ibid., p. 215<br />
76
of continual reflections by Wright, or which interpreted <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r side of <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship between city and countryside.<br />
After all, Emerson’s interest towards <strong>the</strong> religious, socialist or transcendentalist<br />
communities had its limit. Emerson, as were Thoreau and Whitman, was essentially<br />
an individualist to such an extent that he never decided to embark personally on<br />
experiences of collective life. His personal spiritual dimension found its fulfilment<br />
not in <strong>the</strong> community, but in nature. “His interest in <strong>the</strong> Fruitlands community of<br />
Bronson Alcott was solely intellectual; it was more probable that he would have<br />
joined Brook Farm when it was established in 1840, due to its greater popularity<br />
among <strong>the</strong> Transcendentalists. After refusing George Ripley's invitation, Emerson<br />
explained, "To join this body would be to traverse all my long trumpeted <strong>the</strong>ory...<br />
that one man is a counterpoise to a city, that his solitude is more prevalent and<br />
beneficent than <strong>the</strong> concert of crowds" (JMN, 7:408). Emerson's devotion to<br />
solitude frustrated those Transcendentalists, like Charles Lane, who were devoted<br />
to communal progress” 129 .<br />
Among <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r communities active in <strong>the</strong> same years, we find <strong>the</strong> Icarians,<br />
followers of Cabet who rallied to <strong>the</strong> cry “Allons en Amérique – Allons en Icarie”.<br />
The disagreements appeared at <strong>the</strong> first meeting in New Orleans in 1848, in <strong>the</strong><br />
Texan experiment of Denton County (1848) and when in 1850 <strong>the</strong>y transferred to<br />
Nauvoo (1840), Illinois, a town founded by <strong>the</strong> Mormons and abandoned by <strong>the</strong>m<br />
that same year.<br />
A similar situation of disagreements among <strong>the</strong> inhabitants (from various European<br />
nations, but mainly French) took place in <strong>the</strong> settlements of Corning, Iowa (1852),<br />
and Cheltenham, Missouri (1858), founded after <strong>the</strong> death of Cabet (1856) by <strong>the</strong><br />
last of his supporters who had followed him to St. Louis. William Alfred Hinds<br />
analysed <strong>the</strong> phenomena with a utopian matrix in his 1878 book American<br />
Communities and said “No existing Community has had a sadder history than<br />
Icaria” 130 .<br />
129 BREWER, Priscilla J., “ Emerson, Lane, and <strong>the</strong> Shakers: A Case of Converging Ideologies”,<br />
published in The New England Quarterly, Vol. 55, No. 2 (Jun., 1982), pp. 254‐275; p. 262<br />
130 HINDS, William Alfred, American Communies: brief skec<strong>the</strong>s of Economy, Zoar, Be<strong>the</strong>l, Aurora,<br />
Amana, Icaria, The Shakers, Oneida, Wallingford, and The Bro<strong>the</strong>rhood of <strong>the</strong> New Life, Oneida, NY,<br />
Office of <strong>the</strong> American Socialist, 1878, p. 62<br />
77
Settlements, such as Vineland (1861), New Jersey, Anaheim (1857) [Figure 58],<br />
California and Silkville Prairie Home (1870), Kansas, which Nordhoff defined as<br />
“colonies not‐communistic”, were also of a certain interest.<br />
In Anaheim in particular, <strong>the</strong> Los Angeles Vineyard Society appointed George<br />
Hansen, an engineer of German origin as manager of <strong>the</strong> enterprise. Hansen<br />
implemented a series of hydraulic works to guarantee <strong>the</strong> supply of water during<br />
<strong>the</strong> hot Californian summers, thus radically modifying <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> [Figure 59].<br />
Toge<strong>the</strong>r with 50 men 131 he committed to <strong>the</strong> enterprise of improving <strong>the</strong> 1,165<br />
acres of land purchased in <strong>the</strong> neighbourhood of Los Angeles:<br />
It was agreed to divide <strong>the</strong> eleven hundred and sixty‐five acres into fifty<br />
twenty‐acre tracts, and fifty village lots, <strong>the</strong> village to stand in <strong>the</strong> centre<br />
of <strong>the</strong> purchase. Fourteen lots were also set aside for school‐houses and<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r public <strong>building</strong>s. With <strong>the</strong> first contribution <strong>the</strong> land was bought.<br />
The fifty associates had to pay about fifty dollars each for this purpose.<br />
[…] Mr. Hansen, editor’s note, employed Spaniards and Indians as<br />
laborers; and what he did was to dig a ditch seven miles long to lead<br />
water out of <strong>the</strong> Santa Anna River, with four hundred and fifty miles of<br />
subsidiary ditches and twenty‐five miles of feeders to lead <strong>the</strong> water<br />
over every twenty‐acre lot. This done, he planted on every farm eight<br />
acres of grapes and some fruit‐trees; and on <strong>the</strong> whole place over five<br />
miles of outside willow fencing and thirty‐five miles of inside fencing.<br />
Willows grow rapidly in that region, and make a very close fence,<br />
yielding also fire‐wood sufficient for <strong>the</strong> farmer's use. All this had to be<br />
done gradually, so that <strong>the</strong> payments for labor should not exceed <strong>the</strong><br />
monthly contributions of <strong>the</strong> associates, for <strong>the</strong>y had no credit to use in<br />
<strong>the</strong> beginning, and contracted no debts. When <strong>the</strong> planting was done,<br />
<strong>the</strong> superintendent cultivated and pruned <strong>the</strong> grape‐vines and trees,<br />
and took care of <strong>the</strong> place; and it was only when <strong>the</strong> vines were old<br />
enough to bear, and thus to yield an income at once, that <strong>the</strong><br />
proprietors took possession. At <strong>the</strong> end of three years <strong>the</strong> whole of this<br />
labor had been performed and paid for; <strong>the</strong> vines were ready to bear a<br />
crop, and <strong>the</strong> division of lots took place 132 .<br />
131 “The Anaheim associates consisted in <strong>the</strong> main of mechanics, and <strong>the</strong>y had not a farmer among<br />
<strong>the</strong>m. They were all Germans. There were several carpenters, a gunsmith, an engraver, three watchmakers,<br />
four blacksmiths, a brewer, a teacher, a shoemaker, a miller, a hatter, a hotel ‐ keeper, a<br />
bookbinder, four or five musicians, a poet (of course), several merchants, and some teamsters. It<br />
was a very heterogeneous assembly; <strong>the</strong>y had but one thing in common: <strong>the</strong>y were all, with one or<br />
two exceptions, poor. Very few had more than a few dollars saved; most of <strong>the</strong>m had nei<strong>the</strong>r cash<br />
nor credit enough to buy even a twenty‐acre farm; and none of <strong>the</strong>m were in circumstances which<br />
promised <strong>the</strong>m more than a decent living” in NORDHOFF, Charles, The Communistic Societies of <strong>the</strong><br />
United States, from personal visit and observation, London, John Murray, 1875, p. 362<br />
132 Ibid., p. 362‐363<br />
78
The main feature of this charming village was <strong>the</strong> enormous expanse of cultivated<br />
vineyards, creating <strong>the</strong> basis for <strong>the</strong> renowned, Californian wine‐producing<br />
economy [Figure 60] .<br />
Parallel to <strong>the</strong> affirmation of a hard agricultural life, various utopian‐technological<br />
<strong>the</strong>ories also developed, which always had <strong>the</strong> natural world as <strong>the</strong>ir background.<br />
This was <strong>the</strong> case of <strong>the</strong> ideas elaborated by John Adolphus Etzler (1791‐1846?) and<br />
set out in his book The paradise within <strong>the</strong> reach of all men, without labour, by<br />
powers of nature and machinery (1833), in which he imagined and described <strong>the</strong><br />
natural forces (wind, tides, waves) and <strong>the</strong> powers of <strong>the</strong> technological resources<br />
(steam, burning mirrors, perpetual motion). From <strong>the</strong> union of <strong>the</strong>se forces Etzler<br />
dreamt of machines capable of redeeming man from agricultural labour and gave<br />
advice on how to construct architecture, in <strong>the</strong> belief that love for nature (by<br />
gardening) and <strong>the</strong> passion for machines were basic inclinations of human<br />
behaviour 133 .<br />
Etzler's <strong>the</strong>ory, an author read by Thoreau, explained how religious and social<br />
utopias (and transcendentalist ideas) were tied to <strong>the</strong> ethics of nature and labour. If<br />
used and exploited correctly, <strong>the</strong> forces of nature could provide <strong>the</strong> key to spiritual<br />
fulfilment of <strong>the</strong> individual. The very fact that Etzler lingers on <strong>the</strong> set up of a<br />
correct relationship between nature and human settlements confirms <strong>the</strong><br />
transversality and importance of his <strong>the</strong>ory.<br />
His concepts of <strong>the</strong> possibility of <strong>the</strong> evolution of man were recalled in <strong>the</strong> vast<br />
literary production by Herbert George Wells (1866‐1946), <strong>the</strong> genius and fa<strong>the</strong>r of<br />
contemporary science fiction, toge<strong>the</strong>r with Jules Verne (1828‐1905).<br />
Religions also offered a ra<strong>the</strong>r varied picture. In addition to <strong>the</strong> Shakers, <strong>the</strong>re were<br />
less influent minor groups, such as <strong>the</strong> Society of <strong>the</strong> Women in <strong>the</strong> Wilderness, The<br />
Amana Colonies (radical German Pietists), <strong>the</strong> Perfectionists of Oneida, The Aurora<br />
community, etc. Between 1817 and 1819, <strong>the</strong> Separatists founded Zoar, a small<br />
town of German settlers in <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> wild woods of Ohio, endowed with an<br />
entire two and a half‐acre block set aside as a garden: “a large public or Community<br />
133 See ETZLER, John Adolphus, The paradise within <strong>the</strong> reach of all men, without labour, by poker of<br />
nature and machinery. An Address to All Intelligent Men, London, John Brooks, 1838, pp. 234.<br />
About natural power to see pp. 6‐32; about machinery see pp. 33‐60; about agriculture,<br />
architecture, plan of a community, new state of human life, see pp. 61‐95<br />
79
garden, much frequented, especially by visitors. At <strong>the</strong> center is a small circle<br />
surrounded by a thrifty, well kept cedar hedge; from which radiate twelve triangular<br />
beds, in which one may notice <strong>the</strong> familiar petunias, balsams, verbenas, amaranths,<br />
dahlias, geraniums, etc. Indeed, <strong>the</strong> several acres included in <strong>the</strong> garden are mainly<br />
occupied with flowers. There are, however, a few vines and fruit‐trees, and on one<br />
side a green‐house of moderate dimensions” 134 .<br />
Ano<strong>the</strong>r religion which produced an original vision of <strong>the</strong> town and of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong><br />
was Mormonism, a movement founded by Joseph Smith (1805‐1844) around 1830.<br />
The Mormon religion, officially known as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day<br />
Saints, was based, among o<strong>the</strong>r things, on <strong>the</strong> book of <strong>the</strong> prophet Mormon,<br />
translated by Joseph Smith after having consulted ancient, golden plates written in<br />
"reformed Egyptian" and found thanks to <strong>the</strong> indications of an angel, who <strong>the</strong>n took<br />
<strong>the</strong>m back again. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, some of Smith’s ideas closely followed<br />
<strong>the</strong>ories which had in some way or ano<strong>the</strong>r been spread and/or elaborated by<br />
o<strong>the</strong>rs in those very same years. For instance, <strong>the</strong> belief that <strong>the</strong> American Indians<br />
of <strong>the</strong> North American tribes were <strong>the</strong> descendants of <strong>the</strong> Israeli tribes, probably<br />
took <strong>the</strong> cue from an 1826 book of Josiah Priest entitled The Wonders of Nature and<br />
Providence, Displayed 135 .<br />
The town planning experiments of <strong>the</strong> Mormons were just as numerous as <strong>the</strong><br />
persecutions <strong>the</strong>y suffered and <strong>the</strong> sudden flights <strong>the</strong>y made. From Kirtland, Ohio,<br />
Smith pushed west many times in <strong>the</strong> attempt to found a city called Zion [Figure<br />
61]. In 1833 Smith even designed a layout with a series of instructions in <strong>the</strong><br />
margin, which sent some of his followers‐missionaries to Missouri, close to <strong>the</strong><br />
town of Independence, Jackson County. Smith’s specifications were a kind of town<br />
planning and construction regulations, giving precise numeric indications and<br />
measurements to comply with. Smith’s design shows that Zion was centred on a<br />
system of barycentric squares reserved for public <strong>building</strong>s, whereas <strong>the</strong> town area,<br />
measuring a square mile, was surrounded by agricultural fields which had to<br />
134 HINDS, William Alfred, American Communies: brief skec<strong>the</strong>s of Economy, Zoar, Be<strong>the</strong>l, Aurora,<br />
Amana, Icaria, The Shakers, Oneida, Wallingford, and The Bro<strong>the</strong>rhood of <strong>the</strong> New Life, Oneida, NY,<br />
Office of <strong>the</strong> American Socialist, 1878, p. 25<br />
135 PRIEST, Josiah, The Wonders of Nature and Providence, Displayed, Albany, 1826, (see pp. 372‐408<br />
“Proofs that <strong>the</strong> Indians of North America are descended from <strong>the</strong> ancient Hebrews”)<br />
80
limit/prevent its growth. In fact, <strong>the</strong> pre‐established size was thought to be <strong>the</strong><br />
most suitable and <strong>the</strong>refore could not be improved.<br />
On <strong>the</strong> basis of <strong>the</strong>se general instructions <strong>the</strong>y built <strong>the</strong> towns of <strong>the</strong> Far West,<br />
Missouri and of Nauvoo (to be beautiful in Hebrew), Illinois (1839‐1840). After<br />
Smith was killed, <strong>the</strong> Mormons continued <strong>the</strong>ir march west. In 1847 <strong>the</strong>y were in<br />
Nebraska, where <strong>the</strong>y and <strong>the</strong>ir new leader, Brigham Young, founded <strong>the</strong> so‐called<br />
Winter Quarters [Figure 62]. The following year <strong>the</strong>y arrived instead in <strong>the</strong> Great<br />
Salt Lake Valley of Utah, establishing <strong>the</strong> first of dozens of communities in <strong>the</strong><br />
desert: Salt Lake City [Figure 63]. However, <strong>the</strong> Mormons were not <strong>the</strong> only ones to<br />
be fascinated by <strong>the</strong> desert. Throughout American history, <strong>the</strong> desert represented a<br />
particular form of wilderness, a territory in which nature is transformed into a zero<br />
degree <strong>landscape</strong>. The margins of <strong>the</strong> American Great Basin Desert were for many<br />
<strong>the</strong> ultimate utopian possibility: great spaces that disappear over <strong>the</strong> horizon,<br />
immersed in <strong>the</strong> warm, trembling light, continue to hold great fascination over<br />
those who traverse <strong>the</strong>m with a knowledge and understanding of <strong>the</strong>ir history.<br />
In Scenes in America Deserta (1982), Reyner Banham regrets <strong>the</strong> indifference of <strong>the</strong><br />
average American towards <strong>the</strong> desert and reminds <strong>the</strong> reader of <strong>the</strong> importance it<br />
has had over <strong>the</strong> years:<br />
“Deserts are not a matter of indifference in <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> U.S. Their<br />
location athwart <strong>the</strong> institutionalized urge to <br />
meant that it became <strong>the</strong>ir Manifest Destiny to be crossed. From North,<br />
East, and South, <strong>the</strong> barrier of <strong>the</strong> Great Basin Desert was probed and<br />
tested, explores and surveyed, from almost as soon as <strong>the</strong> Anglo Saxons<br />
became aware that such a barrier existed. So, it was crossed –by<br />
trappers and Mormons, <strong>the</strong> U.S. Army, <strong>the</strong> transcontinental railroad<br />
surveyor, by wagon trains and <strong>the</strong> U.S. mails, by <strong>the</strong> Atchison Topeka<br />
and Santa Fe, by <strong>the</strong> Union Pacific, by <strong>the</strong> old National Trails Highway,<br />
and Route 66; and ultimately by Interstates. The ability of <strong>the</strong> railroads<br />
and great highways like 66 to generate romantic memory and nostalgic<br />
glamor suggest that <strong>the</strong>se thin lines of transportation drawn across <strong>the</strong><br />
waste places represent something more in American imaginations that<br />
merely ” 136 .<br />
136 BANHAM , Reyner, Scenes in America Deserta, Salt Lake City, Gibbs M. Smith inc., 1982, pp. 91‐92<br />
(Italian translation by Raffaella Fagetti, Deserti <strong>american</strong>i, introduzione di Marco Biraghi, Torino,<br />
Einaudi, 2006, cit. pp. 83‐84)<br />
81
Several architects of <strong>the</strong> twentieth century, who did actually look to <strong>the</strong> desert to<br />
establish a special relationship between architecture and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, suffered<br />
<strong>the</strong> same fascination felt by <strong>the</strong> pioneers of <strong>the</strong> Old West before <strong>the</strong>m. For<br />
instance, <strong>the</strong> book Frank Lloyd Wright: Design for an American Landscape, 1922‐<br />
1932 137 (1996) edited by David G. De Long (catalogue published for <strong>the</strong> exhibition<br />
held at <strong>the</strong> CCA [Canadian Centre for Architecture] in Montreal and at <strong>the</strong> Library of<br />
Congress in Washington) reconstructed Wright’s links to <strong>the</strong> desert <strong>landscape</strong> with<br />
an analysis of five unbuilt projects: Gordon Strong Automobile Objective, Sugarloaf<br />
Mountain, Maryland (1924‐25), Lake Tahoe Summer Colony, Emerald Bay, California<br />
(1923), Doheny Ranch Development, Beverly Hills, California (1923), A.M. Johnson<br />
Desert Compound, Grapevine Canyon, California (1924), San Marcos in <strong>the</strong> Desert,<br />
Chandler, Arizona (1928‐29). It was Wright, who came to comprehend <strong>the</strong> desert by<br />
means of new means of transportation. If <strong>the</strong> architecture of <strong>the</strong> pioneer of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century was subordinate to carriages, cattle and <strong>the</strong> horse, Wright’s<br />
integrated <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, architecture and <strong>the</strong> automobile on a vast scale. These<br />
projects of <strong>the</strong> 1920’s were to provide <strong>the</strong> conceptual premises for <strong>the</strong> birth of<br />
Broadacre City. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, in this decade when he was achieving minor<br />
professional goals, he concentrated on <strong>the</strong> meaning of architecture and on <strong>the</strong><br />
value of <strong>the</strong> materials used, by writing a series of articles In <strong>the</strong> Cause of<br />
Architecture 138 , published on <strong>the</strong> pages of The Architectural Record.<br />
As Wright himself said in his autobiography, it was Mr A.M. Johnson 139 , <strong>the</strong> sort of<br />
man who was “a strange mixture of <strong>the</strong> fanatic and <strong>the</strong> mystic” 140 , who offered him<br />
<strong>the</strong> opportunity of a reflection on <strong>the</strong> desert <strong>landscape</strong>: “He drove his own car, a<br />
137 DE LONG, David, (ed) Frank Lloyd Wright: design for an American <strong>landscape</strong>, 1922‐1932, New<br />
York, Harry N. Abrams, 1996<br />
138 See in Italian: WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, Per la causa dell’ architettura, introduction by Paolo<br />
Portoghesi, Rome, Gangemi, 1989; In English see: GUTHEIM, Frederick (ed.), In <strong>the</strong> Cause of<br />
Architecture: Essays/ by Frank Lloyd Wright for Architectural Record 1908‐1952; with a symposium<br />
on architecture by eight who knew him by Andrew Devane, Victor Hornbein, Elizabeth Wright<br />
Ingraham, Karl Kamrath, Elizabeth Kassler, Edgar Kaufmann Jr., Henry Klumb, Bruno Zevi, New York,<br />
Architectural Record, 1975<br />
139 A.M. Johnson was <strong>the</strong> client of <strong>the</strong> unbuilt Skyscraper for <strong>the</strong> National Life Insurance Company of<br />
Chicago (1924). This project is dedicated to <strong>the</strong> memory of <strong>the</strong> Lieber Meister, Louis Sullivan, who<br />
died in <strong>the</strong> same year, shortly after seeing <strong>the</strong> drawing of Wright’s <strong>building</strong>.<br />
140 WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, An Autobiography, New York, Duell, Sloan & Pearce, 1943, p. 255 (Italian<br />
translation by Bruno Oddera, Una Autobiografia, Milan, Editoriale Jaca Book, 2003, p.238)<br />
82
Dodge, and as I rode beside him Nature staged a show for us all <strong>the</strong> way" 141 . For<br />
those places Wright drew up a series of ideas, including a project for a residential<br />
complex for Mr Johnson, a private chapel and a house for himself. Of <strong>the</strong> project<br />
made for Johnson we are left with very few drawings and two fascinating<br />
photographs [Figure 64] on which quick notes had been written for <strong>the</strong> project,<br />
which anticipated <strong>the</strong> lines and <strong>the</strong> approach of Taliesin West (1937).<br />
The unforgettable spectacle offered by <strong>the</strong> desert only became, however, a<br />
concrete <strong>building</strong> opportunity for <strong>the</strong> most ephemeral of Wright’s projects in 1927:<br />
Ocatillo [Figure 65], <strong>the</strong> encampment built around Chandler, Arizona to improve <strong>the</strong><br />
drawings of <strong>the</strong> complex of San Marcos in <strong>the</strong> Desert, and never implemented due<br />
to <strong>the</strong> economic crisis of 1929. Ocatillo, according to Wright, appears to be <strong>the</strong> story<br />
of a utopian community of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, of a group of people moving<br />
towards something revolutionary:<br />
We had got back to Taliesin. I was at work on this project for some two<br />
months, when a telegram came from <strong>the</strong> Doctor [Mr. Alexander<br />
Chandler, <strong>the</strong> client of San Marcos in <strong>the</strong> Desert, editor’s note]<br />
suggesting we all come out and make <strong>the</strong> plans for <strong>the</strong> new resort right<br />
<strong>the</strong>re. Joyful news. A swift “comeback” at last! A $40,000 fee in that<br />
direction. And we were, at <strong>the</strong> moment, housebound at Taliesin in a<br />
blizzard, twenty‐two degrees below zero and blowing hard.<br />
Never<strong>the</strong>less, ignoring mentor La Follette ‐Phil‐ secretary now of F.L.W.,<br />
incorporated, we broke away and went out into a blowing snowstorm<br />
on <strong>the</strong> way to Arizona. A real blizzard. The household and workshop at<br />
Taliesin were quickly closed and <strong>the</strong> trek by automobile to Arizona<br />
began, fifteen of us in all […] So we finally arrived at Chandler after<br />
extraordinary risks in […] 142<br />
The descriptions of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, in which <strong>the</strong> Ocatillo encampment was to rise,<br />
revealed a passionate enthusiasm towards <strong>the</strong> place and <strong>the</strong> architecture that was<br />
going to be built <strong>the</strong>re 143 . Wright even quoted a sentence by Victor Hugo to explain<br />
141 Ibid.<br />
142 Ibid. p. 307 (Italian translation p. 274)<br />
143 Ibid., p. 307‐309 (Italian translation pp. 275‐276) “Why not camp now? […] I took this idea to Dr.<br />
Chandler and said that if he would give me a site somewhere we would build <strong>the</strong> camp ourselves. He<br />
reached for his hat, led <strong>the</strong> way to <strong>the</strong> little gray Ford coupé which he drives around <strong>the</strong> mesa at an<br />
average of fifty miles an hour and we went over toward <strong>the</strong> Salt Range. Ten miles away we came<br />
upon a low, spreading, rocky mound rising from <strong>the</strong> great desert floor –well away from everywhere,<br />
83
<strong>the</strong> unusual character of <strong>the</strong> place: “The desert is where God is and man is not” 144 .<br />
The shacks of Ocatillo were built with hemp cloths and wooden boards<br />
whitewashed in a dull rose colour, “<strong>the</strong> color to match <strong>the</strong> light on <strong>the</strong> desert<br />
floor” 145 , in Wright’s mind were butterflies fluttering over <strong>the</strong> projecting rocks rising<br />
from <strong>the</strong> surface, or a small fleet of sailboats rocking in <strong>the</strong> breeze.<br />
The message from Ocatillo, which was to become architecture in Taliesin West, has<br />
fired o<strong>the</strong>r experiences, rekindling <strong>the</strong> flame of <strong>the</strong> architectonic utopia. Just think<br />
of Arcosanti, <strong>the</strong> experiment started by Paolo Soleri, 70 miles from Phoenix, in <strong>the</strong><br />
Arizona desert. After all, as Banham suggests, “[...] Soleri and Wright found in <strong>the</strong><br />
desert what o<strong>the</strong>r men found in <strong>the</strong> desert: an uncluttered <strong>landscape</strong>,<br />
unencumbered by o<strong>the</strong>r people’s <strong>building</strong>s and o<strong>the</strong>r people’s cultures, and it<br />
offered <strong>the</strong>m something very like a clean slate, on which to make a new start, and<br />
fulfil an unhindered fantasy” 146 .<br />
However, if <strong>the</strong> concrete results for utopias are few and far between in terms of<br />
architectural and town planning, <strong>the</strong> spiritual heirloom of <strong>the</strong> experiences discussed<br />
so far is still vast and unexplored. The story of <strong>the</strong> rush to <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> during <strong>the</strong><br />
but within view of <strong>the</strong> site of <strong>the</strong> new resort. […] It was all too good, but it was true. Lumber began<br />
to arrive that afternoon. […] Out here in <strong>the</strong> great spaces obvious symmetry claims too much, I find,<br />
wearies <strong>the</strong> eye too soon and stultifies <strong>the</strong> imagination. Obvious symmetry usually closes <strong>the</strong><br />
episode before it begins. So for me I felt <strong>the</strong>re could be no obvious symmetry in any <strong>building</strong> in this<br />
great desert, none especially in this new camp –we later named <strong>the</strong> place Ocatillo and partly for this<br />
reason. No, <strong>the</strong>re would be nothing like obvious symmetry in <strong>the</strong> new .<br />
The sound constitution of any entity is pregnant with graceful reflexes. Seek those, young architect!<br />
Now by way of an architect’s work‐camp comes fresh adventure in <strong>the</strong> desert. We called <strong>the</strong> camp:<br />
. […] The Yankee‐Hopi house is <strong>the</strong> Phoenix favourite just now. In all this weird,<br />
colourful, wide‐sweeping terrain nothing is quite so deciduous as Arizona <strong>building</strong>s, unless <strong>the</strong> crows<br />
lighting on <strong>the</strong> fences of <strong>the</strong> irrigated fields only to fly away. Unspoiled native character insulted like<br />
this. Arizona character seems to cry out for a space‐loving architecture of its own. The straight line<br />
and flat plane must come here ‐of all places‐ but <strong>the</strong>y should become <strong>the</strong> dotted line, <strong>the</strong> broad, low,<br />
extended plane textured because in all this astounding desert <strong>the</strong>re is not one hard undotted line to<br />
be seen. The great mature‐masonry we see rising from <strong>the</strong> great mesa floors is all <strong>the</strong> noble<br />
architecture Arizona has to show at present and that is not architecture at all. But it is inspiration. A<br />
pattern of what appropriate Arizona architecture might well be lie <strong>the</strong>re hidden in <strong>the</strong> Sahuaro. The<br />
Sahuaro, perfect example of reinforced <strong>building</strong> construction. Its interior vertical rods hold it rigidly<br />
upright maintaining its great fluter columnar mass for six centuries or more. A truer skyscraper than<br />
our functioneer has built. And all <strong>the</strong>se desert remarkable growths show scientific <strong>building</strong> economy<br />
in <strong>the</strong> patterns of <strong>the</strong>ir construction”.<br />
144 Ibid., p. 309 (it. tr. p. 276)<br />
145 Ibid., p. 311 (it. tr. p. 277)<br />
146 BANHAM , Reyner, Scenes in America Deserta, Salt Lake City, Gibbs M. Smith inc., 1982, p. 87<br />
(Italian translation by Raffaella Fagetti, Deserti <strong>american</strong>i, introduction by Marco Biraghi, Torino,<br />
Einaudi, 2006, p. 78)<br />
84
twentieth century, a rush born from <strong>the</strong> thoughts and dreams begun by <strong>the</strong><br />
utopians remains untold. Projects such as <strong>the</strong> Sea Ranch, California (1962),<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>d by Lawrence Halprin with architectural interventions by Charles Moore<br />
and Joseph Esherick, demonstrate a sensitivity with distant roots. The shacks of<br />
Drop City, Colorado (1965), <strong>the</strong> hippie community that invented a modern<br />
aes<strong>the</strong>tics of garbage and recycling, could have never arisen without <strong>the</strong> heritage of<br />
<strong>the</strong> revelations and fantastic visions left by <strong>the</strong> utopias. All this represents <strong>the</strong><br />
pendulum of <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>, which has since oscillated between <strong>the</strong> two<br />
poles. On <strong>the</strong> one hand, <strong>the</strong>re is an attempt to bring <strong>the</strong> town into <strong>the</strong> wilderness,<br />
which is expressed in <strong>the</strong> projects with <strong>the</strong> utopians’ agricultural matrix and is<br />
manifest in Wright's proposal for Broadacre. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> equally<br />
provocative experiment by Olmsted and Downing to transfer <strong>the</strong> wilderness inside<br />
<strong>the</strong> metropolis and make it one of its vital organs. These are <strong>the</strong> two extreme points<br />
of view, which in <strong>the</strong> most sensitive projects develop <strong>the</strong> care for <strong>the</strong> conservation<br />
and development of <strong>the</strong> natural world. At <strong>the</strong> same time, ano<strong>the</strong>r world of<br />
industrial transformation and of technical improvement had appeared on <strong>the</strong><br />
American <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
85
Figure 57- Views of Community of Economy, Pennsylvania (1825),<br />
Drawings from: NORDHOFF, Charles, The Communistic Societies of <strong>the</strong> United States, from<br />
personal visit and observation, London, John Murray, 1875
Figure 58- The vineyard <strong>landscape</strong>, <strong>the</strong> trees are used to delimit estates: Bird’s Eye View of<br />
Anaheim, Los Angeles Co., Cal. Looking North to <strong>the</strong> Sierra Madre Mountains<br />
A lithographed bird’s eye view map of Anaheim in 1876, originally drawn by E. S. Glover and<br />
published by A. L. Bancroft & Co., Lith., San Francisco; view is looking north to <strong>the</strong> Sierra<br />
Madre Mountains; legend along bottom of photograph lists <strong>the</strong> following places of interest: No.<br />
1 Presbyterian Church; 2. Episcopal Church; 3. Catholic Church; 4. City Hall; 5. Odd Fellow’s<br />
Hall; 6. Masonic Hall; 7. Planter’s Hotel; 8. Anaheim Bank; 9. Anaheim Hotel; 10. Dr. Ellis’<br />
Sanitarium; 11. Alden Fruit Dryer; 12. Daily and Weekly Gazette Offi ce; [handwritten in] 13. F.<br />
Hartung’s Vineyard; four mountain peaks are listed along bottom center of photo: A. Anatonia<br />
Mt., Altitude 10142 ft; B. Cucamunga [sic] Mt.; C. Brea Range; D. Cyota Range.<br />
(Anaheim Public Library archive)
Figure 59- Right. Anaheim Plan and Lands.Relationship between cultivable lands and ditch<br />
construction for irrigation. In pink Anaheim section lands, in blue-gray Orange county near <strong>the</strong><br />
Santa Ana river. 1888<br />
California State Engineering Department. Detail Irrigation Map. Anaheim Sheet. Wm. Ham.<br />
Hall, State Engineer. George Sandow, Draughtsman<br />
The map shows areas irrigated by water from <strong>the</strong> Santa Ana River, and Canada de la Brea.<br />
Covers <strong>the</strong> areas of La Habra, Placentia, Brea, Fullerton, Anaheim, and Orange. Water Resources<br />
Center Archives call number mG460 B-1 No. 2 c. 2.<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)
Figure 60- Vineyards and railroad in California. In <strong>the</strong> foreground: ranch, vineyard & residence<br />
of A.A. Hennick, Kingsburg, Fresno County. 1891<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)<br />
From: Offi cial historical atlas map of Fresno County. Offi ce of <strong>the</strong> Board of Supervisors of<br />
Fresno County, California.Compiled, drawn and published from personal examinations and<br />
surveys by Thos. H. Thompson, Tulare, California, 1891.
Figure 61- Sketch by Joseph Smith, city of Zion, near Independence, Missouri, 1833<br />
Image from: REPS, John William, Town Planning in Frontier America, Princeton, University<br />
Press, 1965
Figure 62- Mormon town-planning.<br />
Winter Quarters, or Florence, Nebraska in <strong>the</strong> winter of 1846-1847. Thomas Bullock’s “Poor<br />
Camp Journal” of Thursday, 17 December 1846, notes: “I made a map of Winter Quarters.” It<br />
is not known if this item is <strong>the</strong> one made on this date, but it clearly dates from this period. This<br />
plat map of Winter Quarters (located north of Omaha, Nebraska today) reveals <strong>the</strong> basic infl u-<br />
ence of Joseph Smith’s 1833 Plat of <strong>the</strong> City of Zion, a model used by Mormons before and<br />
after <strong>the</strong>ir movement into <strong>the</strong> Great Basin. At no time did <strong>the</strong> population of Winter Quarters exceed<br />
4,000. This suggests that more than 7,000 o<strong>the</strong>r westward-moving members established<br />
<strong>the</strong>mselves in <strong>the</strong> ninety o<strong>the</strong>r communities on <strong>the</strong> east side of <strong>the</strong> Missouri River that have so<br />
far been identifi ed, or in a variety of Mormon settlements <strong>the</strong>n spread across Iowa. The importance<br />
of Winter Quarters was established by <strong>the</strong> presence of Brigham Young and many of <strong>the</strong><br />
Apostles, who had temporary homes <strong>the</strong>re. Winter Quarters was abandoned in 1848.<br />
(Image Courtesy Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo)
Figure 63- Mormon town-planning.<br />
Birds’ eye view of Salt Lake City (1848) in 1875<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 64- Frank Lloyd Wright, study for A.M. Johnson Desert Compound, 1925<br />
Figure 65- Right: Frank Lloyd Wright, Ocatillo Desert Camp, 1927
The “middle <strong>landscape</strong>”<br />
Close mediation with <strong>the</strong> world of nature enabled <strong>the</strong> construction of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
industrial <strong>landscape</strong> to develop culturally. This process to define ideas made <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong>oretical processing of <strong>the</strong> sensorial stimuli from <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> extremely<br />
complex. The boundless areas of wilderness, toge<strong>the</strong>r with technological progress,<br />
placed contrasting spheres of perception in contact with each o<strong>the</strong>r, which<br />
American culture had, never<strong>the</strong>less, always endeavoured to process toge<strong>the</strong>r.<br />
In his analysis of <strong>the</strong> years of American Independence and <strong>the</strong> following decades of<br />
<strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, Leo Marx, author of <strong>the</strong> book The Machine in <strong>the</strong> Garden<br />
(1964), paid close attention to <strong>the</strong>se relationships between <strong>the</strong> natural <strong>landscape</strong><br />
and industrial progress. In fact, Leo Marx demonstrated how <strong>the</strong> idea in America of<br />
economic development, which consisted mainly of manufacturing in <strong>the</strong> new era,<br />
referred back to <strong>the</strong> symbolic universe of an earthly paradise, of <strong>the</strong><br />
uncontaminated garden.<br />
“The pastoral ideal has been used to define <strong>the</strong> meaning of America ever since <strong>the</strong><br />
age of discovery, and it has not yet lost its old upon <strong>the</strong> native imagination”. 147 The<br />
book by Leo Marx opens with a quotation by Washington Irving, taken from The<br />
Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1820), to clarify <strong>the</strong> emotional impact of contact with an<br />
unexplored, uncontaminated <strong>landscape</strong>. Leo Marx believed that this pastoral trend<br />
was rooted in radical feelings (e.g. <strong>the</strong> intellectual fantasy of “flight from <strong>the</strong> city”)<br />
as well as popular ideas, such as <strong>the</strong> agrarian myth and rural values described in <strong>the</strong><br />
preceding chapters. In order to introduce <strong>the</strong> topic of <strong>the</strong> “machine” and to create a<br />
connection with <strong>the</strong> idyll of <strong>the</strong> garden, he paused to reflect on an incident which<br />
happened to Nathanial Hawthorne on <strong>the</strong> morning of <strong>the</strong> 27th July 1844 in a wood<br />
near Concord, Massachusetts, known in <strong>the</strong> area as “Sleepy Hollow”.<br />
By highlighting <strong>the</strong> similarity between <strong>the</strong> place name and Irving’s book title, Leo<br />
Marx takes a look at and describes some of Hawthorne’s notes in his diary: “[...] a<br />
shallow space scooped out among <strong>the</strong> woods [...] is like <strong>the</strong> lap of bounteous<br />
147 MARX, Leo, The Machine in <strong>the</strong> Garden, Technology and Pastoral Ideal in America, Oxford, Oxford<br />
University Press, 1979 [first ed. 1964], p. 3 (Italian translation by Eva Kampmann La macchina nel<br />
giardino : tecnologia e ideale pastorale in America, Rome, Lavoro, 1987, p. 9)<br />
86
Nature, filled with bread stuff. [...] But hark! There is <strong>the</strong> whistle of <strong>the</strong> locomotive<br />
[…]”. 148 After describing <strong>the</strong> luxuriant nature of <strong>the</strong> place, disturbed only by a few<br />
tiny sound of agricultural work in <strong>the</strong> background, Hawthorne turns his attention to<br />
something breaking <strong>the</strong> peace: <strong>the</strong> presence of a locomotive engine. The prolonged<br />
whistle of <strong>the</strong> train breaks <strong>the</strong> emotional tension created between <strong>the</strong> inner self<br />
and <strong>the</strong> surrounding nature:<br />
With <strong>the</strong> train out of earshot and quiet restored, Hawthorne continues<br />
his observations. [...] yet, <strong>the</strong>re is something arresting about <strong>the</strong><br />
episode: <strong>the</strong> writer sitting in his green retreat dutifully attaching words<br />
to natural facts, trying to tap <strong>the</strong> subterranean flow of thought and<br />
feeling and <strong>the</strong>n, suddenly, <strong>the</strong> starling shriek of <strong>the</strong> train whistle<br />
bearing in upon him, forcing him to acknowledge <strong>the</strong> existence of a<br />
reality alien to <strong>the</strong> pastoral dream. 149<br />
This heed of machines, understood as a novelty and a break with <strong>the</strong> natural world,<br />
permeates <strong>the</strong> majority of American literature of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century. A few<br />
lines later, Leo Marx reviews some of <strong>the</strong> significant episodes which highlight <strong>the</strong><br />
difficult liaison between <strong>the</strong> industrial <strong>landscape</strong> and <strong>the</strong> agricultural/natural<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>:<br />
Our sense of its evocative power is borne out by <strong>the</strong> fact that variants of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Sleepy Hollow episode have appeared everywhere in American<br />
writing since <strong>the</strong> 1840’s. We recall <strong>the</strong> scene in Walden where Thoreau<br />
is sitting rapt in a revery and <strong>the</strong>n, penetrating his woods like <strong>the</strong> scream<br />
of hawk, <strong>the</strong> whistle of locomotive is heard; or <strong>the</strong> eerie passage in<br />
Moby Dick, where Ishmael is exploring <strong>the</strong> innermost recesses of a<br />
beached whale and suddenly <strong>the</strong> image shifts and <strong>the</strong> leviathan’s<br />
skeleton is a New England textile mill; or <strong>the</strong> dramatic moment in<br />
Huckleberry Finn, when Huck and Jim are floating along peacefully and a<br />
monstrous steamboat suddenly bulges out of <strong>the</strong> night and smashes<br />
straight through <strong>the</strong>ir raft. More often than not in <strong>the</strong>se episodes, <strong>the</strong><br />
machine is made to appear with starling suddenness. Sometimes it<br />
abruptly enters a Happy Valley, at o<strong>the</strong>r a traveller suddenly comes<br />
upon it. In one of Melville’s tales, (The Tartarus of Maids), <strong>the</strong> narrator is<br />
trying to find a paper mill in <strong>the</strong> mountains. He drives his sleigh into a<br />
deep hollow between hills that rise like steep walls, and he still cannot<br />
see <strong>the</strong> place when, as he says
<strong>the</strong> large whitewashed factory>>. The ominous sounds of machines, like<br />
<strong>the</strong> sound of <strong>the</strong> steamboat bearing down on <strong>the</strong> raft or of <strong>the</strong> train<br />
breaking in upon <strong>the</strong> idyll at Walden, reverberate endlessly in our<br />
literature. 150<br />
In o<strong>the</strong>r words, if we can once again catch a glimpse in this special relationship of<br />
yet ano<strong>the</strong>r side to <strong>the</strong> relationship between town and country, we must not<br />
underestimate <strong>the</strong> role played by <strong>the</strong> unbridled force of <strong>the</strong> machine.<br />
Whereas a pa<strong>the</strong>tic faith in America’s skills of redemption became stronger, <strong>the</strong><br />
first, parallel, critical reflections on its conquests began to emerge. The antagonist<br />
<strong>the</strong>me of conflict between man and nature became more evident in nineteenth<br />
century America during <strong>the</strong> years of Independence. Industrialisation, effectively<br />
represented by <strong>the</strong> image of <strong>the</strong> train flying along <strong>the</strong> tracks, incorporated a force,<br />
which threatened <strong>the</strong> pastoral image of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, yet at <strong>the</strong> same time<br />
provided <strong>the</strong> means to travel through it.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> train was not to completely abuse <strong>the</strong> rights of nature at first, even<br />
though it was an element of discord.<br />
One of <strong>the</strong> most well‐known paintings by Georges Innes (1825‐1894), a painter of<br />
classically inspired <strong>landscape</strong>s, provides excellent food for thought [Figure 66].<br />
When <strong>the</strong> Lackawanna Railroad Company commissioned a work by Innes in 1844 to<br />
show <strong>the</strong> construction of <strong>the</strong> railroad in <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s, he was faced with <strong>the</strong><br />
stimulating task of being able to provide a critical interpretation of what was being<br />
constructed. We have to imagine, as Leo Marx suggests in his interpretation of <strong>the</strong><br />
picture, that <strong>the</strong> painter was not exactly enthusiastic about portraying a train<br />
bursting into <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. Never<strong>the</strong>less, he was able to match <strong>the</strong> buyer’s needs<br />
with his own aspirations and feelings towards nature. The resulting picture, entitled<br />
Lackawanna Valley, manages to combine a bucolic <strong>landscape</strong> and <strong>the</strong> new world,<br />
conjured up by <strong>the</strong> railroad, without any particular clashes.<br />
The train stands out against a pastoral <strong>landscape</strong>, in which animals graze<br />
undisturbed in <strong>the</strong> foreground, but <strong>the</strong> new means of transport does not really<br />
appear to be a breach, but ra<strong>the</strong>r it fuses everything toge<strong>the</strong>r. Its puff of steam is<br />
reproduced by a cloud, and <strong>the</strong> hills and trees help to define a <strong>landscape</strong> where <strong>the</strong><br />
150 Ibid., p. 15‐16 (Italian translation pp. 18)<br />
88
works of man are part of a much wider context. The disturbing expanse of felled<br />
trees opens up to a view of a human figure lying on his side, gazing calmly towards<br />
<strong>the</strong> peaceful horizon. The solitary observer contemplates <strong>the</strong> spectacle produced by<br />
man and nature exactly as <strong>the</strong> shepherd used to contemplate Arcadia.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> final analysis, Innes was capable of recreating <strong>the</strong> works of <strong>landscape</strong> artists<br />
in <strong>the</strong> 17th and 18th century. Poussin and o<strong>the</strong>r artists before him introduced <strong>the</strong><br />
disturbing presence of a skull into delicate, picturesque idylls as a warning and as a<br />
representation of <strong>the</strong> motto Et in Arcadia Ego which means “I, too [Death] am in<br />
Arcadia”.<br />
The train of this period enabled <strong>the</strong> town dweller to have rapid, direct contact with<br />
faraway, uncontaminated areas.<br />
Thus, <strong>the</strong> machine, and especially <strong>the</strong> train, does not clash with <strong>the</strong> pastoral ideal<br />
and contributes towards <strong>the</strong> creation of what Leo Marx called <strong>the</strong> middle<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> 151 .<br />
“The railroad is <strong>the</strong> chosen vehicle for bringing America into its own as pastoral<br />
utopia”. 152 The conquest of <strong>the</strong> wild lands, <strong>the</strong> feeling of being able to improve<br />
uncultivated nature and develop an agrarian economy as Jefferson intended, fired<br />
<strong>the</strong> myth of <strong>the</strong> pastoral model up to <strong>the</strong> 1850s, <strong>the</strong> so‐called Golden Day years.<br />
However, society in <strong>the</strong> “middle <strong>landscape</strong>” had found a balance strongly oriented<br />
towards technological progress, which undermined <strong>the</strong> bucolic idea of <strong>the</strong><br />
development of a rural nation. Not by chance, a project was implemented precisely<br />
in <strong>the</strong> 1850s to create Central Park in Vaux and Olmsted, a perfect, middle<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> at <strong>the</strong> service of <strong>the</strong> metropolis. In <strong>the</strong> meantime, “[...] no‐one, not even<br />
Jefferson, had been able to identify <strong>the</strong> point of arrest, <strong>the</strong> critical moment when<br />
<strong>the</strong> tilt might be expected and progress cease to be progress. As time went on,<br />
accordingly, <strong>the</strong> idea became more vague, a rhetorical formula ra<strong>the</strong>r than a<br />
153<br />
conception of society [...]”.F<br />
151 SEGAL, Howard P., (review by) “Leo Marx's "Middle Landscape": A Critique, a Revision, and an<br />
Appreciation”, in SegalReviews in American History, Vol. 5, No. 1 (Mar., 1977), pp. 137‐150,<br />
published by The Johns Hopkins University Press<br />
152 MARX, Leo, The Machine in <strong>the</strong> Garden, Technology and Pastoral Ideal in America, Oxford, Oxford<br />
University Press, 1979 [first ed. 1964], p. 225 (Italian translation by Eva Kampmann La macchina nel<br />
giardino: tecnologia e ideale pastorale in America, Rome, Lavoro, 1987, p. 185)<br />
153 Ibid., p.226 (Italian translation p.185)<br />
89
Despite <strong>the</strong> fact that <strong>the</strong> pastoral ideal remained active for many years after <strong>the</strong><br />
appearance of <strong>the</strong> machine, a different world of industrial America was opening on<br />
<strong>the</strong> horizon.<br />
90
Figure 66-The Lackawanna Valley, George Innes,1855
Industrial America<br />
One’s‐Self I Sing, a simple separate person,<br />
Yet utter <strong>the</strong> world Democratic, <strong>the</strong> world En‐Masse.<br />
Walt Whitman<br />
The expansion of <strong>the</strong> railroad and industry actually represented <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of<br />
<strong>the</strong> colonial, economic capitalist/mercantilist model developed and augured by<br />
Alexander Hamilton.<br />
Hamilton believed <strong>the</strong> development of manufacturing to be of such importance as<br />
to consider state support of <strong>the</strong> sector to be indispensable. His Report on<br />
manufactures (1791) described a hypo<strong>the</strong>tical society, <strong>the</strong> purpose of which was to<br />
produce and accumulate capital by investors. Moreover, as we have hinted at<br />
previously, Hamilton believed that certain circumstances, which would encourage<br />
industrial development, were necessary: “1) <strong>the</strong> division of labor; 2) an extension of<br />
<strong>the</strong> use of machinery; 3) additional employment to classes of <strong>the</strong> community not<br />
ordinarily engaged in <strong>the</strong> business; 4) <strong>the</strong> promoting of emigration from forcing<br />
countries; 5) <strong>the</strong> furnishing greater scope for diversity of talents and dispositions<br />
which discriminate men from each o<strong>the</strong>r; 6) <strong>the</strong> affording a more ample and various<br />
field for enterprise; 7) <strong>the</strong> creating in some instances a new, and securing in all a<br />
more certain and steady demand for <strong>the</strong> surplus produce of <strong>the</strong> soil” 154 .<br />
This clear idea of a society perfectly divided into classes was a forerunner of an<br />
economic system which at <strong>the</strong> time of <strong>the</strong> Report was as yet in its early stages. For<br />
this reason, Hamilton dwelt on certain rapidly growing sectors of production, of<br />
which he listed 17, which in his opinion could offer encouraging guarantees of<br />
success in <strong>the</strong>ir attempts to increase: <strong>the</strong> sectors of skins, iron, wood, flax and<br />
hemp, bricks, ardent spirits and malt liquors, of writing and printing papers, hats of<br />
fur, wool and silk, shoes, and of refined sugars, etc…<br />
In his description of <strong>the</strong> structured proposal of rules, awards, duties and incentives,<br />
Hamilton also dwells on cotton processing:<br />
154 HAMILTON, Alexander, “Report on Manufactures”, published in Taussig, Frank William (ed.) State<br />
papers and speeches on <strong>the</strong> tariff, Cambridge, Massachusetts, Harvard University Press, 1893, p. 15<br />
91
The cotton mill, invented in England within <strong>the</strong> last twenty years, is a<br />
signal illustration of <strong>the</strong> general pro position which has been just<br />
advanced. In consequence of it all <strong>the</strong> different processes for spinning<br />
cotton are performed by means of machines which are put in motion by<br />
water, and attended chiefly by women and children, and by a smaller<br />
number of persons, in <strong>the</strong> whole, than are requisite in <strong>the</strong> ordinary<br />
mode of spinning. And it is an advantage of great moment that <strong>the</strong><br />
operations of this mill continue with convenience during <strong>the</strong> night as<br />
well as through <strong>the</strong> day. The prodigious effect of such a machine is easily<br />
conceived. To this invention is to be attributed essentially <strong>the</strong> immense<br />
progress which has been so suddenly made in Great Britain in <strong>the</strong><br />
various fabrics of cotton. 155<br />
The concrete result of this reflection on machines to process cotton was to cause<br />
<strong>the</strong> radical transformation of city <strong>landscape</strong>s in <strong>the</strong> north of <strong>the</strong> United States. The<br />
<strong>the</strong>oretical remarks advanced by Hamilton led indirectly to some entrepreneurs<br />
convincing <strong>the</strong>mselves <strong>the</strong>y could dedicate <strong>the</strong>ir resources to <strong>the</strong> construction of a<br />
town‐factory: urban models, which would act as “capitalist utopia”, in contrast with<br />
<strong>the</strong> economic types, toge<strong>the</strong>r with settlements based on land exploitation.<br />
The myth of a “perfect” economy, as described by Hamilton in his Report, shows <strong>the</strong><br />
model of <strong>the</strong> company‐towns. The company‐towns interpreted <strong>the</strong> idea of a limited<br />
urban form. In some respects, <strong>the</strong>y were not inspired by egalitarian models, <strong>the</strong>y<br />
were not <strong>the</strong> result of social demands, nor did <strong>the</strong>y represent town planning forms<br />
of redemption as opposed to religious utopias. They were simply tools for capital,<br />
entities organised for <strong>the</strong> purpose of making <strong>the</strong> workers’ job more efficient. The<br />
myth of <strong>the</strong>se manufacturing cities as purely economic models was only to be swept<br />
away by <strong>the</strong> Civil War. As a result, <strong>the</strong> typical manufacturing economy of <strong>the</strong><br />
nor<strong>the</strong>rn states during <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century was subsequently to<br />
be reconverted using far more diversified solutions. In an essay published in <strong>the</strong><br />
book La città <strong>american</strong>a (1973), Francesco Dal Co sustains that “some of <strong>the</strong>se<br />
principles remain, however, in <strong>the</strong> company‐towns of <strong>the</strong> Laissez faire era, which<br />
acquired a precise political function in <strong>the</strong> capitalist system and became an internal,<br />
economic tool, typical of <strong>the</strong> process of accumulation” 156 . One of <strong>the</strong> last examples<br />
155 Ibid., p. 18<br />
156 DAL CO, Francesco, published in CIUCCI Giorgio, DAL CO Francesco, MANIERI ELIA Mario, TAFURI<br />
Manfredo, La città <strong>american</strong>a dalla guerra civile al New Deal, Laterza, Bari, 1973, p. 218<br />
92
of a nineteenth century company‐town was <strong>the</strong> town of George Pullman (1831‐<br />
1897), <strong>the</strong> rich industrialist who invented <strong>the</strong> well‐known sleeping cars. The Pullman<br />
company‐town (1880), 4000 acres of land on <strong>the</strong> shores of Lake Calumet, south of<br />
Chicago, thought to be a model city and attraction during <strong>the</strong> World Columbian<br />
Exposition in 1893, was designed by <strong>the</strong> architect, Solon Spencer Beman (1853‐<br />
1914) in answer to <strong>the</strong> new demands for profit. The dreams of laissez faire were to<br />
be abruptly interrupted, not only by contradictions within <strong>the</strong> system (which<br />
regularly off‐loaded social costs on to <strong>the</strong> workers in times of crisis), but also by <strong>the</strong><br />
strikes triggered by <strong>the</strong> trade unions at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> century. This made Pullman’s<br />
experiment appear to be a paternalistic experience, incapable of pacifying or<br />
calming class conflict. Ano<strong>the</strong>r example was <strong>the</strong> case of <strong>the</strong> company‐town of<br />
Lowell 157 (1820s), Massachusetts, which not only preceded Pullaman’s birth by<br />
more than half a century, but also appears to be of great interest for <strong>the</strong><br />
implications it presupposed for <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> [Figure 67].<br />
Designed as a town for <strong>the</strong> textile sector and planned to exploit <strong>the</strong> hydraulic force<br />
of <strong>the</strong> rapids of <strong>the</strong> River Merrimack, Lowell became one of <strong>the</strong> largest industrial<br />
complexes of <strong>the</strong> United States in just a few decades 158 , and was far more<br />
competitive in its own right than a very large number of sou<strong>the</strong>rn territories. The<br />
importance of <strong>the</strong> geographical location of Lowell also explains <strong>the</strong> town’s<br />
commercial success. The reason why no similar towns existed in <strong>the</strong> South of <strong>the</strong><br />
United States was tackled by Stephen Goldfarb in his essay “A Note on Limits to <strong>the</strong><br />
Growth of <strong>the</strong> Cotton‐Textile Industry in <strong>the</strong> Old South” (1982), in which he also<br />
clarifies <strong>the</strong> economic motivations behind <strong>the</strong> previous affirmations:<br />
During <strong>the</strong> antebellum period <strong>the</strong> cotton‐textile industry in <strong>the</strong> South<br />
was far smaller than that in <strong>the</strong> North. As late as 1860 factories in<br />
Lowell, Massachusetts, operated more cotton spindles than factories in<br />
<strong>the</strong> eleven sou<strong>the</strong>rn states combined.[…]The South's early<br />
industrialization was impeded by its geography, which separated sites<br />
157 To study <strong>the</strong> Lowell case in depth cf. COOLIDGE, John, Mill and mansion: a study of architecture<br />
and society in Lowell, Massachusetts, 1820‐1865, New York, Columbia University Press, 1942; we<br />
recommend referring to <strong>the</strong> bibliography in this publication. For fur<strong>the</strong>r details, see LOWELL Trades<br />
and Labour Council (ed.), Lowell, a city of spindles, Lowell, Lawler & Company, printers, 1900<br />
158 See CLARK, Victor S., History of Manufactures in <strong>the</strong> United States 1607‐1860, 3 vols., New York,<br />
published for <strong>the</strong> Carnegie Institution of Washington, McGraw‐Hill book company inc., 1916<br />
93
containing falling water, <strong>the</strong> most suitable motive power, by<br />
considerable distances from easy access to national markets. This<br />
obstacle, which was overcome by <strong>the</strong> growth of <strong>the</strong> sou<strong>the</strong>rn railroads<br />
after <strong>the</strong> Civil War, limited large‐scale sou<strong>the</strong>rn industry to a few<br />
locations. In New England, where this obstacle was all but nonexistent,<br />
<strong>the</strong> textile industry grew to be <strong>the</strong> country's first great industry,<br />
accounting in 1860 for "about one‐sixteenth of <strong>the</strong> aggregate of all<br />
branches of industry”. The center of <strong>the</strong> large, integrated New England<br />
textile industry was <strong>the</strong> Merrimack River valley. Lowell, Massachusetts,<br />
was <strong>the</strong> first of <strong>the</strong> great mill towns of <strong>the</strong> Merrimack and in 1860 <strong>the</strong><br />
largest. Located at <strong>the</strong> Pawtucket Falls of <strong>the</strong> Merrimack, <strong>the</strong> textile mills<br />
of Lowell were powered by approximately 6,000 cubic feet of water per<br />
second, which produced about 10,000 horsepower as it fell through <strong>the</strong><br />
wheels and turbines of <strong>the</strong> factories, guided <strong>the</strong>re by a complex system<br />
of canals. Of equal importance were Lowell's transportation links to<br />
national and international markets by way of Boston, first through <strong>the</strong><br />
Middlesex Canal, opened in 1803 when Lowell was just a trading village,<br />
and <strong>the</strong>n by <strong>the</strong> Boston and Lowell Railroad, completed in 159 .<br />
The changes carried out in <strong>the</strong> Lowell textile industry placed <strong>the</strong> productive force of<br />
<strong>the</strong> machines in direct contact with <strong>the</strong> force of water.<br />
The <strong>landscape</strong> of Lowell thus involved elements of <strong>the</strong> natural <strong>landscape</strong> in <strong>the</strong><br />
industrial process, and ideally stretched factory organisation by means of a close<br />
network of canals to service <strong>the</strong> textile mills [Figures 68‐69].<br />
The productive objectives remained evident for a long time, to such an extent that a<br />
study made in 1923 by Harry Chamberlain Meserve (1868‐1925), secretary of <strong>the</strong><br />
National Association of Cotton Manufactures defined Lowell as “an industrial dream<br />
come true” 160 . The territory occupied by <strong>the</strong> town of Lowell once represented<br />
capital for an Indian settlement named Wamesit, but <strong>the</strong> rights to use <strong>the</strong> land had<br />
already been taken from <strong>the</strong> natives in 1726 by <strong>the</strong> English. “The site of Lowell was<br />
chosen purely for textile purposes. The definite plan grew out of its location at<br />
available water power. O<strong>the</strong>r advantages and disadvantages were weighed over<br />
against this matter of primary importance. The practicability of textile<br />
manufacturing at this particular place was <strong>the</strong> determining factor 161 .<br />
159 GOLDFARB, Stephen J., “A Note on Limits to <strong>the</strong> Growth of <strong>the</strong> Cotton‐Textile Industry in <strong>the</strong> Old<br />
South”, published in The Journal of Sou<strong>the</strong>rn History, Vol. 48, No. 4 (Nov., 1982), pp. 545‐558, pp.<br />
545 and 549<br />
160 MESERVE, Herry C., Lowell‐ an industrial dream come true, Boston, The National Association of<br />
Cotton Manufactures, Massachusetts, 1923<br />
161 Ibid., p.45<br />
94
A large number of works and investments followed in <strong>the</strong> wake of <strong>the</strong> site choice,<br />
which made <strong>the</strong> original agricultural settlement, named Chelmsford, all <strong>the</strong> more<br />
suitable for textile production. In 1793, work began to construct <strong>the</strong> Middlesex<br />
Canal. Completed in 1804, it enabled <strong>the</strong> River Merrimack to be linked at<br />
Chelmsford with <strong>the</strong> port of Boston. In 1797, <strong>the</strong> 1.5 mile‐long canal to bypass <strong>the</strong><br />
Pawtucket Falls was completed. In 1801, <strong>the</strong> first carding machine of <strong>the</strong> region was<br />
installed. In 1813, <strong>the</strong> first cotton mill was built on <strong>the</strong> River Concord, a tributary of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Merrimack, with an investment of 2,500 dollars 162 . However, <strong>the</strong> town<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> was transformed, thanks to <strong>the</strong> ideas of Francis Cabot Lowell (1775‐<br />
1817), who toge<strong>the</strong>r with Nathan Appleton (1779‐1861) and Patrick Tracy Jackson<br />
(1780‐1847) had founded <strong>the</strong> Boston Manufacturing Company in 1813. The Lowell<br />
system, experimented by <strong>the</strong> so‐called Boston Associated 163 in <strong>the</strong> factory at<br />
Waltham, Massachusetts (1814), envisaged <strong>the</strong> use of machines, which had been<br />
improved by various devices and by <strong>the</strong> organisation of a rigorous assembly line.<br />
The processes took place for <strong>the</strong> first time in a single <strong>building</strong> and <strong>the</strong> internal work<br />
rules gave <strong>the</strong> women workers relief.<br />
In fact, Lowell thought of using mainly female labour to optimise investments. The<br />
mill girls were chosen specifically because women’s pay was much lower than<br />
men’s. However, Lowell had also decided to offer a series of benefits, such as<br />
housing, clothing, educational activities, a school, a newspaper written entirely by<br />
women (<strong>the</strong> Lowell Offering), convinced that welfare and a series of on‐site<br />
comforts could increase <strong>the</strong> workers’ interest in productivity.<br />
On Lowell’s death in 1817, his associates named <strong>the</strong> town, which was <strong>the</strong> fruit of<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir investments in <strong>the</strong> textile industries on <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong> Merrimack, after him<br />
in 1826. Investments based precisely on his system already applied in Waltham.<br />
Between 1820 and 1821, Thomas M. Clark invested approximately 100,000 dollars<br />
to purchase lands and to acquire <strong>the</strong> Locks and Canals Corporation. The following<br />
162 This data is from MESERVE, Herry C., Lowell‐ an industrial dream come true, Boston, The National<br />
Association of Cotton Manufactures, Massachusetts, 1923<br />
163 The Boston Associated also included Abbot Lawrence (1792‐1855) and Amos Lawrence (1786‐<br />
1852). They were a group of investors based in Boston, Massachusetts, to produce textile products<br />
of cotton. The term Boston Associated was created by historian Vera Shlakmen in Economy History<br />
of Factory Town, A Study of Chicopee, Massachusetts (1935).<br />
95
year, Appleton and Jackson founded <strong>the</strong> Merrimack Manufacturing Company, giving<br />
<strong>the</strong> company <strong>the</strong> lands purchased along <strong>the</strong> Pawtucket Canal and beginning a series<br />
of works to exploit <strong>the</strong> water. A dam was constructed at a cost of 120,000 dollars<br />
and <strong>the</strong> canal was enlarged [Figures 68‐69].<br />
A characteristic of <strong>the</strong> Lowell Factory System was <strong>the</strong> design for <strong>the</strong><br />
control of <strong>the</strong> boarding houses and <strong>the</strong>ir inmates, as instituted in <strong>the</strong><br />
Waltham Manufacturing Company by Francis Cabot Lowell. These<br />
boarding houses were long blocks of brick <strong>building</strong>s, situated on <strong>the</strong><br />
banks of <strong>the</strong> river, or of <strong>the</strong> canal, a few rods from <strong>the</strong> mills at right<br />
angles to <strong>the</strong>m, and containing a sufficient number of tenements, as<br />
<strong>the</strong>y were called, to accommodate <strong>the</strong> operatives employed by <strong>the</strong><br />
corporation. Between <strong>the</strong> boarding houses and <strong>the</strong> mill <strong>the</strong>re was<br />
generally a long, one‐story brick <strong>building</strong> containing <strong>the</strong> Counting Room,<br />
Superintendent's and Clerk's rooms and store rooms. The enclosure<br />
which this arrangement of structures formed and upon which all of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>building</strong>s opened was called <strong>the</strong> mill yard. The only access to this yard<br />
was through <strong>the</strong> counting room and in full view of those whose business<br />
it was to see that only those who belonged <strong>the</strong>re came upon <strong>the</strong><br />
premises. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> location of <strong>the</strong> Superintendent's room gave<br />
him an unobstructed view. On one side were <strong>the</strong> boarding houses,<br />
occupied only by known and approved tenants; on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r side were<br />
<strong>the</strong> mills, in each room of which <strong>the</strong>re was a carefully selected overseer<br />
who was held responsible for <strong>the</strong> work, good order and proper<br />
management of his room. In many cases, <strong>the</strong> agents and overseers were<br />
members and sometimes deacons of <strong>the</strong> church, or, as frequently<br />
happened, Sunday School teachers of <strong>the</strong> girls employed under <strong>the</strong>m.<br />
The interest in <strong>the</strong>ir welfare which this association, apart from <strong>the</strong> mill,<br />
provided was of inestimable benefit, and, from a utilitarian point of<br />
view, it must have caused <strong>the</strong> girls to feel a greater interest in <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
work 164 .<br />
Lowell’s commercial utopia was made possible thanks to a series of circumstances,<br />
which encouraged a new form of industrial life. In those years, <strong>the</strong> spinning jenny,<br />
an intermittent, multi‐spool, spinning frame, was continually being improved.<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, developments introduced by Eli Whitney and Samuel Slater’s cotton<br />
gin (1768‐1835) enabled raw cotton to be converted into cloth in a single,<br />
uninterrupted process. Slater, in particular, had had a number of intuitions, later<br />
perfected by Francis Cabot Lowell, which gave rise to <strong>the</strong> textile revolution, by<br />
164 MESERVE, Herry C., Lowell‐ an industrial dream come true, Boston, The National Association of<br />
Cotton Manufactures, Massachusetts, 1923, p. 60<br />
96
designing and constructing <strong>the</strong> first mills to be entirely dedicated to <strong>the</strong><br />
manufacture of fabrics.<br />
Lowell soon became a tourist destination. In an essay on <strong>the</strong> industrial town,<br />
MacDonald cites <strong>the</strong> description written by Charles Dickens:<br />
Lowell became a curiosity and a challenge. Travellers made pilgrimages<br />
to this shrine of industrialism […] One went through its wonders under<br />
<strong>the</strong> direction of "a gentleman intimately connected with <strong>the</strong><br />
management of <strong>the</strong> factories” and saw only <strong>the</strong> bright promise of <strong>the</strong><br />
good. It was new, and youth was its mark. To Dickens, with his<br />
inordinate love of <strong>the</strong> queer, shabby, and grotesque, it was a shiny and<br />
flimsy kind of play village.
manufacturing industries held a total capital of 6,500,000 dollars, accrued in Lowell<br />
in under ten years. This amount provided by private investors equalled<br />
approximately <strong>the</strong> possible expenditure of an entire state. As a paragon to <strong>the</strong>se<br />
investments, <strong>the</strong> annual salary of <strong>the</strong> President of <strong>the</strong> United States, Andrew<br />
Jackson, was 25,000 dollars in 1834, whereas that of his vice, Martin Van Buren was<br />
5,000 dollars. In addition, <strong>the</strong>re were banks, insurance offices, marshals and general<br />
officers, various courts of justice, schools, a post office and 12 Christian churches<br />
corresponding to <strong>the</strong> same number of religious faiths, which lived safely side by<br />
side. This was all obviously organised to avoid any social conflicts, which could<br />
interrupt work. Out of 12,363 individuals only 326 were over <strong>the</strong> age of 50 (<strong>the</strong><br />
majority being between <strong>the</strong> age of 15 and 30) and <strong>the</strong> number of women was<br />
double <strong>the</strong> number of men (7,929 as opposed to 4,537). However, o<strong>the</strong>r entities<br />
featuring <strong>the</strong> textile industry also existed in o<strong>the</strong>r parts of <strong>the</strong> world. In 1811, Lowell<br />
had actually visited several factories during his stay in England and <strong>the</strong> organisation<br />
of <strong>the</strong> English textile industries was to inspire him as regards <strong>the</strong>ir methods of<br />
processing and <strong>the</strong>ir machinery.<br />
In England, Manchester was <strong>the</strong> town in <strong>the</strong> cotton industry, par excellence. The<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> created by <strong>the</strong> textile industry was <strong>the</strong> fruit of <strong>the</strong> English colonial effort,<br />
but <strong>the</strong> city of Manchester, similar to <strong>the</strong> town of Lowell put forward new ideas,<br />
which did not pass unnoticed and which led to new, disturbing enigmas. We refer to<br />
<strong>the</strong> observations by Friedrich Engels (1820‐1895), contained in his book The<br />
condition of <strong>the</strong> working class in England (1844), and above all to <strong>the</strong> careful<br />
thoughts of Karl Friederich Schinkel, made in 1826 during his English trip 167 . The<br />
Prussian architect undertook a long journey first through France and <strong>the</strong>n England<br />
to study <strong>the</strong> ways in which museums were organised. However, his curiosity also led<br />
him to observe non‐institutional <strong>building</strong>s and situations, to examine <strong>landscape</strong>s,<br />
iron bridges and factories. Within <strong>the</strong> original industrial scene in Manchester,<br />
looking at <strong>the</strong> large mills standing out against <strong>the</strong> sky, Schinkel wondered about<br />
those enormous <strong>building</strong>s which, in his opinion, appeared to promise an era of a<br />
new architectural style and a new urban <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
167 See BINDMAN, David, RIEMANN, Gottfried, (eds) The English journey : journal of a visit to France<br />
and Britain in 1826 / Karl Friedrich Schinkel, New Haven, London, Yale University Press, 1993<br />
98
Schinkel posed <strong>the</strong> question which suggested that <strong>the</strong> old relationships between<br />
man, town, nature and <strong>the</strong> architect were, in o<strong>the</strong>r words, in crisis. Something<br />
similar was also taking place in America. In 1836, Emerson wrote <strong>the</strong> work<br />
Nature161F161F168<br />
, <strong>the</strong> manifesto of transcendental philosophy, in which he expressed<br />
thoughts very similar to those of Shinkel. The incipit of Nature, which impressed<br />
Frank Loyd Wright so deeply, exhorts man to live his time to <strong>the</strong> full by creating new<br />
works and thoughts suited to <strong>the</strong> time in which he lived:<br />
Our age is retrospective. It builds <strong>the</strong> sepulchres of <strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>rs. It writes<br />
biographies, histories, and criticism. The foregoing generations beheld<br />
God and nature face to face; we, through <strong>the</strong>ir eyes. Why should not we<br />
also enjoy an original relation to <strong>the</strong> universe? Why should not we have<br />
a poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition, and a religion by<br />
revelation to us, and not <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong>irs? […]There are new lands,<br />
new men, new thoughts. Let us demand our own works and laws and<br />
worship 169 .<br />
The effects of culture called men to reflect on <strong>the</strong> role of industry and on certain<br />
changes due to machines in daily life, <strong>the</strong>y suggested a significant shift in natural<br />
space and towns. Emerson understood <strong>the</strong> relationship, which was being created<br />
between man and machine and he pointed out a dualism, which had sprung from<br />
new inventions capable of evoking or emulating provocative, anti‐conventional<br />
experiences: “What new thoughts are suggested by seeing a face of country quite<br />
familiar, in <strong>the</strong> rapid movement of <strong>the</strong> rail‐road car! Nay, <strong>the</strong> most wonted objects,<br />
(make a very slight change in <strong>the</strong> point of vision,) please us most […] Turn <strong>the</strong> eyes<br />
upside down, by looking at <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> through your legs, and how agreeable is<br />
<strong>the</strong> picture, though you have seen it any time <strong>the</strong>se twenty years!” 170 .<br />
According to Emerson, this new relationship highlights <strong>the</strong> distance between man<br />
and nature resulting in “a pleasure mixed with awe” 171 , that is to say an entity with<br />
a form of excessively refined style aiming to capture <strong>the</strong> sublime. Man realises that<br />
“whilst <strong>the</strong> world is a spectacle, something in himself is stable” 172 .<br />
168 The essay Nature was published anonymously by Emerson in 1836<br />
169 EMERSON, Ralph Waldo, Nature, Boston, James Munroe and Company, 1836, pp. 5‐6 (Italian<br />
translation by Iginia Tattoni, Natura, Rome, Donzelli, 2010, p. 19)<br />
170 Ibid., pp.63‐63 (Italian translation pp. 52‐53)<br />
171 Ibid., p. 64 (Italian translation p. 53)<br />
172 Ibid.<br />
99
The new methods of communication and <strong>the</strong> innovative infrastructures built in<br />
America were to trigger reactions and feelings very similar to those described by<br />
Emerson. The artists were to be <strong>the</strong> first to acknowledge this phenomenon. In fact,<br />
<strong>the</strong> possibility of having access to spectacular, picturesque, sublime sceneries was<br />
to come as an opportunity to be seized rapidly by <strong>the</strong> artists of <strong>the</strong> Hudson River<br />
School.<br />
The early decades of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century confirmed <strong>the</strong> age of internal<br />
improvements and public works of national importance began, such as <strong>the</strong><br />
construction of roads, turnpikes (toll roads), canals and ports. The infrastructural<br />
solution to <strong>the</strong> Northwest Ordinance (1787) and to <strong>the</strong> purchase of Louisiana (1803)<br />
was faced from a political point of view by a proposal of law, presented by Albert<br />
Gallatin in 1807. Gallatin, Secretary of <strong>the</strong> Treasury during <strong>the</strong> presidency of<br />
Jefferson and Madison, presented a Report on <strong>the</strong> Subject of Public Roads and<br />
Canals, which was rejected due to a lack of funds. The Gallatin project proposed to<br />
encourage a massive investment by <strong>the</strong> federal government to construct roads and<br />
canals. For this purpose, he drew up a report similar to a detailed estimate and<br />
attached a minute description of <strong>the</strong> various works to be implemented. The canals<br />
Gallatin listed can be grouped into four categories: “1) Great canals, from north to<br />
south, along <strong>the</strong> Atlantic sea coast; 2) Communications between <strong>the</strong> Atlantic and<br />
western waters; 3) Communications between <strong>the</strong> Atlantic waters, and those of <strong>the</strong><br />
great lakes, and river St. Lawrence; 4) Interior canals” 173 . The estimated costs also<br />
envisaged an improvement in navigation in many rivers and took into account <strong>the</strong><br />
benefits of investments by private companies to develop projects not financed by<br />
<strong>the</strong> central government.<br />
The projects would have allowed miles and miles of internal navigation. Gallatin<br />
also thought of important road projects. One large turnpike was supposed to begin<br />
in Maine and go down as far as Georgia along <strong>the</strong> Atlantic coast, whereas ano<strong>the</strong>r<br />
four turnpikes were to have crossed <strong>the</strong> country, starting from <strong>the</strong> coast, crossing<br />
<strong>the</strong> Appalachian Mountains, to reach as far as <strong>the</strong> rivers of <strong>the</strong> West.<br />
173 GALLATIN, Albert, Report of <strong>the</strong> Secretary of <strong>the</strong> Treasury, on <strong>the</strong> Subject of Public Roads and<br />
Canals, Made in Pursuance of a Resolution of Senate, of March 2, 1807, Washington, R.C:<br />
Weightman, 1808, p. 8<br />
100
All <strong>the</strong> works came to <strong>the</strong> astronomical price of 20,000,000 dollars, which Gallatin<br />
thought to distribute evenly over subsequent years at approximately 2 million per<br />
year. His proposal was turned down and <strong>the</strong> problem of funding was adapted<br />
according to <strong>the</strong> scale of individual states, so that his intuitions were considered<br />
applicable only decades later167F167F174<br />
. A very large number of canals were constructed,<br />
however. Thus, even prior to <strong>the</strong> railroad and turnpikes, <strong>the</strong> first works to mark <strong>the</strong><br />
natural <strong>landscape</strong> were <strong>the</strong> water canals, used for transport and to exploit hydraulic<br />
force, as we have seen in <strong>the</strong> case of Lowell. In <strong>the</strong> face of a high investment, canals<br />
guaranteed ease and speed of transport. Moreover, <strong>the</strong>y did not require <strong>the</strong><br />
continual maintenance needed for normal, unpaved roads, <strong>the</strong>y were not <strong>the</strong><br />
ephemeral ear<strong>the</strong>n trails followed by <strong>the</strong> pioneers and <strong>the</strong>refore did not carry <strong>the</strong><br />
risks of getting lost or of encroaching on Indian Territory.<br />
One of <strong>the</strong> first to be constructed, toge<strong>the</strong>r with a network of aqueducts, was <strong>the</strong><br />
Middlesex Canal (1803), which became <strong>the</strong> landmark in <strong>the</strong> development of<br />
manufacturing in Massachusetts. A towpath was also built, which enabled horses or<br />
men to pull <strong>the</strong> boats along <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong> canal, which testified <strong>the</strong> strength of<br />
<strong>the</strong> project design and engineering.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> most interesting engineering challenge of <strong>the</strong> early years of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century was <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal [Figure 76‐80]. Opened in 1825, it linked<br />
Albany on <strong>the</strong> Hudson River to Lake Erie, via Buffalo, 363 miles (584 km) of<br />
waterway exceeding a total elevation differential of 565 ft (169m). It measured an<br />
average of 40 feet (12 metres) in width and 4 feet (1.2m) in depth.<br />
The internal territories of <strong>the</strong> State of New York had been assigned in 1781 (Central<br />
New York Military Tract) at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> War of Independence as a reward for <strong>the</strong><br />
soldiers, who had taken part in <strong>the</strong> revolution. This was <strong>the</strong> context, in which place<br />
names of townships were given epi<strong>the</strong>ts from classical authors.<br />
Therefore, <strong>the</strong> way for <strong>the</strong> “Great Western” had already been opened in three<br />
ways: via <strong>the</strong> Indian trails, by certain means of transport, which envisaged portage<br />
paths and via <strong>the</strong> routes of <strong>the</strong> pioneers and former soldiers. Archer Butler Hulbert,<br />
scholar of American communication routes, highlights <strong>the</strong> lack of communication<br />
174 See GOODRICH, Carter, Government Promotion of American Canals and Railroads 1800‐1890, New<br />
York, Columbia University Press, 1960<br />
101
with internal territories prior to <strong>the</strong> construction of roads and canals: “The old<br />
Iroquois Trail […] was <strong>the</strong> landward route from <strong>the</strong> Hudson to <strong>the</strong> Great Lakes. As a<br />
thoroughfare in its entirety, it meant much to <strong>the</strong> Indians, but very little to <strong>the</strong><br />
white men before <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century. Though <strong>the</strong> lower Mohawk Valley was<br />
sparsely settled early in <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, white men did not build <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
cabins along <strong>the</strong> Iroquois Trail to <strong>the</strong> westward until nearly a century later, when<br />
<strong>the</strong> old Genesee Road was opened. Until <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> country through which <strong>the</strong><br />
Iroquois Trail ran had been a terra incognita where only Indian runners knew <strong>the</strong><br />
way through <strong>the</strong> Long House of <strong>the</strong> Iroquois” 175 .<br />
The first idea for <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal is generally thought to be that of Senator<br />
Gouverneur Morris (1752‐1816), who was influenced by <strong>the</strong> sight of <strong>the</strong> first canals<br />
built in England. In fact, Hubert highlighted <strong>the</strong> suggestion and wrote that “In his<br />
diary for October, 1795, Morris describes his feeling on viewing <strong>the</strong> Caledonian<br />
Canal in Scotland; " 176 .<br />
As Morris’s political career advanced, within <strong>the</strong> space of a decade <strong>the</strong> repeated<br />
suggestions to improve and exploit <strong>the</strong> internal waterways finally influenced<br />
politicians and <strong>the</strong> population at a time when o<strong>the</strong>r canals were also being built.<br />
The first concrete steps were made with <strong>the</strong> approval of a law presented in 1808 by<br />
Joshua Forman, a member of <strong>the</strong> New York legislature, with a funding of 600 dollars<br />
to prepare <strong>the</strong> project data and measurements for a canal between <strong>the</strong> River<br />
Hudson and Lake Erie. James Geddes (1763‐1838), an engineer by profession,<br />
involved in politics in <strong>the</strong> Federal alignment (and <strong>the</strong>refore in opposition to<br />
Jefferson’s Democratic‐Republicans), prepared <strong>the</strong> scheduled plans and as a result<br />
became involved as promotor of <strong>the</strong> project. A few years later in 1810, Dewitt<br />
Clinton, Mayor of New York, presented a resolution in favour of Western Inland<br />
Lock Navigation in order to persuade public opinion about <strong>the</strong> canal construction<br />
company. The document prepared by DeWitt Clinton began thus:<br />
175 HULBERT, Archer Butler, The Great American Canals, Volume II (Historic Highways of America Vol.<br />
N. 14), Cleveland, Ohio, The Arthur H. Clark Company, 1904, pp. 15‐16<br />
176 Ibid., p. 43<br />
102
Whereas, <strong>the</strong> agricultural and commercial interests of <strong>the</strong> state, require<br />
that <strong>the</strong> inland navigation from <strong>the</strong> Hudson river to lake Ontario and<br />
lake Erie, be improbe and completed on a scale commensurate to <strong>the</strong><br />
great advantages derived from <strong>the</strong> accomplishment of that important<br />
object: And whereas, it is doubtful whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> resources of <strong>the</strong><br />
Western Inland Lock Navigation Company are adequate to such<br />
improvements: Therefore resolved, that if <strong>the</strong> honourable <strong>the</strong> assembly<br />
consent herein, that Gouverneur Morris, Stephen Van Rensselaer, De<br />
Witt Clinton, Simeon De Witt, William North, Thomas Eddy and Peter B.<br />
Porter, be and <strong>the</strong>y are hereby appointed commissioners for exploring<br />
<strong>the</strong> whole route, examining <strong>the</strong> present condition of <strong>the</strong> said navigation,<br />
and considering what fur<strong>the</strong>r improvements ought to be made <strong>the</strong>rein;<br />
and that <strong>the</strong>y be authorized to direct and procure such surveys as to<br />
<strong>the</strong>m shall appear necessary and proper in relation to <strong>the</strong>se objects ;<br />
and that <strong>the</strong>y report <strong>the</strong>reon to <strong>the</strong> legislature, at <strong>the</strong>ir next session,<br />
presenting a full view of <strong>the</strong> subjects referred to <strong>the</strong>m, with <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
estimates and opinion <strong>the</strong>reon 177 .<br />
At <strong>the</strong> beginning of 1812, once it was obvious that Congress had no intention of<br />
financing <strong>the</strong> canal construction work, <strong>the</strong> proposal drawn up by <strong>the</strong> commission<br />
chaired by Morris was finally approved by <strong>the</strong> state of New York, which authorised a<br />
loan of 5 million dollars as state credit for <strong>the</strong> investors.<br />
When construction had been completed, <strong>the</strong> work totalled approximately 7 million<br />
dollars, which corresponded to <strong>the</strong> latest estimates drawn up.<br />
Numerous advantages were guaranteed by internal canals at <strong>the</strong> time. The<br />
waterways encouraged settlements in <strong>the</strong> areas <strong>the</strong>y crossed. They created new<br />
sources of internal trade, speeded up transport and <strong>the</strong>refore made numerous raw<br />
materials, such as wood or agricultural products, available at lower prices [Figures<br />
74‐75]. The works for <strong>the</strong> “DeWitt Ditch”, which quite a few people saw as a sign of<br />
madness, began only in 1817 and ended in 1825. The project was divided into three<br />
sections: <strong>the</strong> Western section between Lake Erie and <strong>the</strong> River Seneca, <strong>the</strong> central<br />
section between <strong>the</strong> River Seneca and <strong>the</strong> town of Rome on <strong>the</strong> River Mohawk, and<br />
<strong>the</strong> Eastern Section from Rome to Albany on <strong>the</strong> River Hudson. The first stretch was<br />
assigned to <strong>the</strong> design and measurements of <strong>the</strong> engineer, William Peacock,<br />
followed by James Geddes (1763‐1838). The second, longest stretch was supervised<br />
177 Ibid., pp 52‐53<br />
103
y <strong>the</strong> engineer Benjamin Wright (1770‐1842), a professional expert and head of<br />
<strong>the</strong> project design company, whereas <strong>the</strong> third stretch was completed by <strong>the</strong><br />
engineer, Charles C. Broadhead.<br />
At <strong>the</strong> time, <strong>the</strong> “frontier” line ran along <strong>the</strong> River Ohio and came to an end behind<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r natural barriers. A few years later, <strong>the</strong> opening of <strong>the</strong> canal changed <strong>the</strong><br />
situation [Figures 76‐80]:<br />
Such was substantially <strong>the</strong> situation in 1825, <strong>the</strong> year when "Clinton's<br />
big ditch" was opened its entire length, and <strong>the</strong> historic cask of water<br />
brought from Lake Erie was solemnly emptied into New York harbor. A<br />
glance at <strong>the</strong> map of settlement in 1830 will show in a graphic way <strong>the</strong><br />
changes in <strong>the</strong> frontier line since 1820. The Erie Canal was not<br />
responsible for it all, but it was a potent factor. The rise of such cities<br />
and towns as Buffalo, Black Rock, Tonawanda, Lockport, Middleport,<br />
Medina, and Albion was due directly to <strong>the</strong>ir relation to <strong>the</strong> canal, as <strong>the</strong><br />
names of two of <strong>the</strong>m indicate. But many villages sprang up in<br />
<strong>the</strong> "back country" as <strong>the</strong> adjuncts of increasing farming communities,<br />
where <strong>the</strong> difficulty of transporting household goods and food, in <strong>the</strong><br />
first place, and later to market grain or cattle, had been a deterrent to<br />
anything but <strong>the</strong> sparsest population 178 .<br />
During <strong>the</strong> construction of <strong>the</strong> waterways, lateral canals were built and o<strong>the</strong>r works<br />
were begun to serve <strong>the</strong> towns, which could now expand. This was <strong>the</strong> case of <strong>the</strong><br />
Rochester aqueduct, built on <strong>the</strong> River Genesee as a copy of <strong>the</strong> arches in Roman<br />
bridges according to a project, which was obviously influenced by romantic ideas,<br />
evoked by <strong>the</strong> surrounding, picturesque forests. Many stretches of <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal<br />
were improved and widened in <strong>the</strong> decades which followed, until it became an<br />
extremely complex, infrastructural work, <strong>the</strong> symbol of national pride and American<br />
entrepreneurial ability [Figure 81].<br />
In 1826 approximately 19,000 boats used <strong>the</strong> “big ditch”, as <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal was<br />
called, and <strong>the</strong> company successfully recovered construction costs in less than ten<br />
years. Thanks to <strong>the</strong> canal, <strong>the</strong> costs for goods travelling between Buffalo and New<br />
York decreased from 100 to 15 dollars per ton and <strong>the</strong> time required from 20 to 8<br />
days 179 .<br />
178 MATHEWS, Lois Kimball, The Erie Canal and <strong>the</strong> Settlement of <strong>the</strong> West, Buffalo, 1910, p. 193<br />
179 For this data cf. JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐1992, London,<br />
Oxford University Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] (Italian translation Storia degli Stati Uniti d’America.<br />
Dalle prime colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milan, Bompiani 2011; p. 106)<br />
104
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal was a pipeline for ideas used not only by migratory<br />
flows from <strong>the</strong> Atlantic, but also by religious and utopian communities, which used<br />
it to move around to reach chosen places or to carry out missions within <strong>the</strong> states.<br />
Nowadays, numerous parks and museums along <strong>the</strong> canal give added value to a<br />
system which crosses 23 counties and includes approximately 4,800 square miles.<br />
Since <strong>the</strong> year 2000, <strong>the</strong> United States Congress has recognised <strong>the</strong> great historic<br />
and cultural value of <strong>the</strong> work and now <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal Way Corridor belongs in <strong>the</strong><br />
National Heritage list.<br />
The waterway scenarios of <strong>the</strong> Mid‐West were not limited to <strong>the</strong> territory between<br />
Lake Erie and <strong>the</strong> Hudson. Additional canals, which penetrated still fur<strong>the</strong>r to <strong>the</strong><br />
west and south, were added to this system. Mention should be made of <strong>the</strong> Miami<br />
and Erie Canal, 301 miles in 1845 from Cincinnati, Ohio, to Toledo, Ohio; <strong>the</strong><br />
Wabash and Erie Canal, 460 miles in <strong>the</strong> 1850s from Toledo, Ohio to Evansville,<br />
Indiana; <strong>the</strong> Ohio and Erie Canal, 308 miles in 1832 from Akron, Ohio to<br />
Portsmouth, Ohio.<br />
The main canals usually merged with rivers and lakes, and sometimes ran parallel to<br />
<strong>the</strong>m or joined <strong>the</strong>m wherever possible. The secondary canals, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand,<br />
ei<strong>the</strong>r joined <strong>the</strong> main canals as “tributaries”, or <strong>the</strong>y linked up o<strong>the</strong>r canals to each<br />
o<strong>the</strong>r to create an extremely vast, waterway <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
Ano<strong>the</strong>r important water infrastructure was The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal,<br />
opened in 1831, 184 miles long, which connected Cumberland, Maryland to<br />
Washington, D.C. It ran parallel to <strong>the</strong> River Potomac, whereas <strong>the</strong> elevation<br />
differential was overcome by locks. The history of Chesapeake is linked to <strong>the</strong><br />
Potomac Company. This company was founded in 1785 by George Washington in<br />
order to enable and improve <strong>the</strong> navigability of <strong>the</strong> Potomac, but it was not<br />
particularly successful. Work only began in 1828 according to a project prepared by<br />
Benjamin Wright, head engineer of <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal. At <strong>the</strong> same time, <strong>the</strong> state of<br />
Pennsylvania also began numerous public works to construct canals, dams, locks<br />
and aqueducts.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> early 1840s, The Pennsylvania Canal consisted of a canal system of<br />
approximately a thousand miles of navigable water, of which <strong>the</strong> most important<br />
105
stretches included <strong>the</strong> Delaware Division (60 miles), <strong>the</strong> Beaver Division (31 miles)<br />
and <strong>the</strong> Susquehanna Division (41 miles), named after <strong>the</strong> rivers involved, and <strong>the</strong><br />
Eastern Division (69 miles) which, toge<strong>the</strong>r with o<strong>the</strong>r canals and works,<br />
represented <strong>the</strong> main line totalling hundreds of miles.<br />
Occasionally, inclined planes were built alongside <strong>the</strong> canals, which helped<br />
overcome <strong>the</strong> elevation differentials, which would o<strong>the</strong>rwise have been too long<br />
and too expensive for a canal to overcome, as well as short railroad stretches.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, <strong>the</strong> canals became a transport symbol<br />
and <strong>the</strong> most effective and most used communication road. Canals were built in all<br />
<strong>the</strong> states, from <strong>the</strong> Atlantic coast to <strong>the</strong> Mississipi and <strong>the</strong>y created innumerous<br />
combinations between <strong>the</strong> various routes. Therefore, <strong>the</strong> canals represented <strong>the</strong><br />
symbolic infrastructure of this period and made up <strong>the</strong> vast and little explored<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> of American waterways, a <strong>landscape</strong> often ignored by <strong>the</strong> average<br />
European. For this reason, if we consider <strong>the</strong> vast implications and relapses in<br />
landscaping, we believe that <strong>the</strong> recording of this phenomenon is more than a<br />
simple piece of encyclopaedic data. The <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> canals [Figures 76‐80]<br />
shows an unexpected America, which has had <strong>the</strong> opportunity to interact with <strong>the</strong><br />
territory in different ways, which are never<strong>the</strong>less important to be able to form an<br />
environmental conscience towards nature.<br />
The cowboy epic and <strong>the</strong> myth of <strong>the</strong> railroad did not yet represent a dominant<br />
entity in <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century, and <strong>the</strong>y developed only after <strong>the</strong> years of Civil<br />
War when, by <strong>the</strong> twentieth century, <strong>the</strong>y had become <strong>the</strong> often stereotyped<br />
legend of <strong>the</strong> great American spaces.<br />
Not by chance was <strong>the</strong> boat <strong>the</strong> principal means of transport until <strong>the</strong> 1860s.<br />
In particular, <strong>the</strong> steamboat came to play a significant, dominant role alongside <strong>the</strong><br />
prolific construction of canals.<br />
The steamboat became <strong>the</strong> icon of <strong>the</strong> industrial face of <strong>the</strong> America that travelled<br />
on water. North River by Robert Fulton (1765‐1815), commonly known as Clermont,<br />
was completed in 1807 and was <strong>the</strong> first boat to enjoy a certain commercial<br />
success. It sailed up <strong>the</strong> River Hudson from New York to Albany in 32 hours and<br />
106
sailed downstream in 30. 180 Fulton had <strong>the</strong> idea to mount James Watt’s (1736‐1819)<br />
steam engine, and to exploit <strong>the</strong> driving force it generated to move boats over <strong>the</strong><br />
water. Experiments of <strong>the</strong> kind had also been attempted in Europe, even by Fulton<br />
himself in Paris, from <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, but <strong>the</strong>y proved to be<br />
ei<strong>the</strong>r financial or engineering failures. Fulton’s boat was, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand,<br />
powerful enough to sail upstream. Moreover, <strong>the</strong> journey lasted but a few hours in<br />
contrast with <strong>the</strong> several days and substantial difficulties overland. Fulton and his<br />
financial backer, Robert Livingston (1746‐1813), known in France when <strong>the</strong> latter<br />
was ambassador, were able to build a small commercial empire thanks to contracts<br />
and favours from politicians. As a result of <strong>the</strong>ir wave of success, <strong>the</strong> two men were<br />
also nominated members of <strong>the</strong> Eric Canal commission in 1811.<br />
Daniel R. Headrick describes <strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> supremacy of <strong>the</strong> steamboat on <strong>the</strong><br />
waters of American rivers as follows:<br />
In 1816 ano<strong>the</strong>r competitor, Henry Shreve, built <strong>the</strong> Washington from a<br />
radically new design. Until <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> engines of <strong>the</strong> boats constructed by<br />
Fulton and French were located in <strong>the</strong> hull with a 90 or more centimetre<br />
draught. On <strong>the</strong> contrary, <strong>the</strong> hull of Shreve’s boat was wide and flat like<br />
a barge and drew a maximum of 60 centimetres. As <strong>the</strong> engine would<br />
not fit into <strong>the</strong> hull, it was placed on <strong>the</strong> bridge and a second bridge was<br />
built above for <strong>the</strong> passengers and cargo. Instead of side wheels it had a<br />
single, large wheel astern which could be raised to avoid obstacles.<br />
Shreve had <strong>the</strong> audacious and even dangerous idea of installing a high<br />
pressure engine which took up little space and worked at 150 pounds<br />
per square inch to provide <strong>the</strong> necessary power to get <strong>the</strong> better of <strong>the</strong><br />
strong current of <strong>the</strong> River Ohio. This boat was able to sail on <strong>the</strong> Ohio<br />
and Mississippi all year, and remained afloat on sandbanks which would<br />
have caused a deeper hull to run aground. The Washington was capable<br />
of sailing up <strong>the</strong> Mississippi and <strong>the</strong> Ohio from New Orleans to Louisville<br />
in twenty‐five days, a journey which would have required several<br />
months by barge or canoe. From that day onwards, Shreve’s design was<br />
used as <strong>the</strong> model for <strong>the</strong> classic river boat on <strong>the</strong> Mississippi Later <strong>the</strong>re<br />
was a sensational increase in <strong>the</strong> number of steamboats. In 1820 sixtynine<br />
sailed <strong>the</strong> Ohio and Mississippi; in 1830, <strong>the</strong>re were 187; in 1840,<br />
557, and in 1850, 740. The historian, Louis Hunter, calculated that <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
engines produced three fifths of all <strong>the</strong> steam used in <strong>the</strong> United States<br />
and made a decisive contribution to <strong>the</strong> industrialisation of <strong>the</strong> country.<br />
180 Cf. HEADRICK, Daniel R., Power over Peoples. Technology, Environment, and Western Imperialism,<br />
1400 to Present, Princeton‐Oxford, Princeton University Press, 2010 (Italian translation by Giovanni<br />
Arganese, Il predominio dell’occidente. Tecnologia, ambiente, imperialismo, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2010,<br />
p. 161)<br />
107
Until coal was introduced, <strong>the</strong>y were fuelled by wood cut from <strong>the</strong> river<br />
banks. The boats of <strong>the</strong> Mid‐West consumed over one hundred and fifty<br />
square kilometres of forest a day at <strong>the</strong> height of <strong>the</strong>ir splendour. 181<br />
The steamboat [Figures 73] had not only modified <strong>the</strong> perception of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>,<br />
but it also left a physical mark on <strong>the</strong> transformation of <strong>the</strong> natural environments<br />
along <strong>the</strong> rivers, and enabled <strong>the</strong> transition of means of transport sparked by <strong>the</strong><br />
revolution to be implemented in <strong>the</strong> territories fur<strong>the</strong>r inland. The United States<br />
were transformed from an Atlantic nation to a continental nation.<br />
The boat, as symbolised in <strong>the</strong> film Fitzcarraldo (1982) by Werner Herzog, was <strong>the</strong><br />
epitome of <strong>the</strong> conquest, of <strong>the</strong> “civilisation” of a wild territory. It expressed <strong>the</strong><br />
possibility of dominating a vast, remote territory. The arrival of <strong>the</strong> force of steam<br />
made it possible to exploit <strong>the</strong> natural resources of <strong>the</strong> lands crossed. The contrast<br />
between <strong>the</strong> opulent interiors, <strong>the</strong> ballrooms, <strong>the</strong> highly decorated cabins and <strong>the</strong><br />
natural wilderness of <strong>the</strong> territories crossed symbolised a conflict ra<strong>the</strong>r than a<br />
mediation between two different worlds.<br />
Without <strong>the</strong> success of river transport, towns, such as Cincinnati, Louisville,<br />
Memphis and Baton Rouge, would have remained little settlements.<br />
The steamboat’s “imperialism” became an everyday, tangible presence, yet ano<strong>the</strong>r<br />
reason of conflict between <strong>the</strong> natives and pioneers. As regards <strong>the</strong> town, <strong>the</strong><br />
topography of <strong>the</strong> river became extremely important and <strong>the</strong> urban image mirrored<br />
a world of work flows and industriousness.<br />
Images of <strong>the</strong> river towns highlight a panorama featuring <strong>the</strong> smoking funnels of <strong>the</strong><br />
boats, <strong>the</strong> river banks crowded with people and goods [Figures 70‐72]. The<br />
steamboat is <strong>the</strong> earth shattering, vitalising element. The outline of <strong>the</strong> towns<br />
highlights this aspect, without which <strong>the</strong> river scenes would not hold any special<br />
interest.<br />
Suffice it to look at <strong>the</strong> lithograph showing <strong>the</strong> city of St. Louis in 1859 [Figure 70]on<br />
<strong>the</strong> eve of <strong>the</strong> Civil War. The print portrays a good 31 steamboats, which completely<br />
occupy <strong>the</strong> lower part of <strong>the</strong> scene. The large boats like floating palaces leave no<br />
free space, as <strong>the</strong>y line up closely along <strong>the</strong> river bank, where hundreds of people<br />
181 Ibid., pp. 162‐164<br />
108
on foot and on horseback animate <strong>the</strong> waterfront. O<strong>the</strong>r moving boats complete<br />
<strong>the</strong> scene both close‐up and in <strong>the</strong> distance, sailing up and down <strong>the</strong> river. In o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
words a bird’s eye view that mainly shows a picture of <strong>the</strong> city, illustrates <strong>the</strong><br />
fundamental role played by <strong>the</strong> river economy. You realise that without boats <strong>the</strong>re<br />
would not even be any development for <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
The scene portrayed must have been so common that a similar reasoning can be<br />
made when thinking of images of New Orleans [Figure 71] and o<strong>the</strong>r river towns<br />
along <strong>the</strong> lengths of <strong>the</strong> great waterways. Of <strong>the</strong> old pastoral world <strong>the</strong>re remain<br />
only a few rafts dragged along by <strong>the</strong> current. However, <strong>the</strong> raft makes a strong<br />
contrast which American culture will attempt to mediate and heal. The freedom of<br />
a wild, rough world featuring only traditional tools and moved by natural<br />
mechanisms, clashes with <strong>the</strong> sophisticated, technological world of <strong>the</strong> steamboat.<br />
The success of <strong>the</strong> individual, who discovers himself in contact with nature,<br />
becomes an ideology which competes, as Whitman’s poems explain so well, with<br />
“<strong>the</strong> word Democratic, <strong>the</strong> word En‐Mass” 182 . It is essentially <strong>the</strong> same idea of<br />
American democracy, which is based on this contradiction between <strong>the</strong> individual<br />
and <strong>the</strong> crowd and is fostered in <strong>the</strong> pair formed by democracy and nature.<br />
Whitman’s effort consists precisely of an evocation of <strong>the</strong> spirit of <strong>the</strong> nation and of<br />
its transformation into <strong>the</strong> muse of Democracy. The ideal of freedom converges<br />
with <strong>the</strong> umpteenth projections of <strong>the</strong> “I myself‐poet”.<br />
It should not appear strange that <strong>the</strong> pioneer’s dream/myth becomes ideally<br />
stronger in Whitman’s poem, just when he is partially broken by <strong>the</strong> means of<br />
transport, which enable many to share his experience. Where once <strong>the</strong> pioneer<br />
stood alone, now <strong>the</strong>re is no longer any wilderness, but only <strong>the</strong> institutions of a<br />
democratic government organised on a federal scale: “These States are <strong>the</strong> amplest<br />
poem, / here is not merely a nation but a teeming Nation of nations 183 .<br />
182 WHITMAN, Walt, Foglie d’erba, [Leaves of grass] preface by Giorgio Manganelli, selection,<br />
introduction and notes by Biancamaria Tedeschini Lalli, translation by Ariodante Marianni, Milan,<br />
BUR, 2010 (<strong>the</strong> English text published in <strong>the</strong> Italian book is from Leaves of Grass, edited by Harold W.<br />
Blodgett and Sculley Bradley, New York, NY University Press, 1965; first ed. of Leaves of Grass is in<br />
1855), p. 6<br />
183 Ibid., p. 382<br />
109
The image of an old and a new world that clash appears even more clearly in <strong>the</strong><br />
allegory described by Mark Twain in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, published<br />
in 1884, but set at least thirty or forty years before. In <strong>the</strong>ir journey in search of<br />
freedom on board <strong>the</strong>ir raft, Huck and Jim actually crash with a steamboat. The<br />
machine shatters and drags with it <strong>the</strong> impossible dream of an independent life for<br />
Huck and Jim. It will be possible to continue <strong>the</strong> journey, but as <strong>the</strong> raft gradually<br />
continues southwards, fur<strong>the</strong>r into slave territory, it becomes clearer that this<br />
fuggitive existence is intollerable. Just as Thoreau’s cabin or Melville’s ship, <strong>the</strong> raft<br />
represents a flight from society, a race for freedom beginning with restriction.<br />
The alliance, which is established between <strong>the</strong> old Arcadia and <strong>the</strong> transformations<br />
caused by <strong>the</strong> advancing frontier, shapes <strong>the</strong> man of <strong>the</strong> West with <strong>the</strong> typical<br />
humour of transitory, unstable situations. If <strong>the</strong> West lacked a heroic tradition, <strong>the</strong><br />
natural reaction had been to create highly detailed stories, far from <strong>the</strong> truth but<br />
capable of imparting a certain eccentricity to <strong>the</strong> environment of life at <strong>the</strong> frontier.<br />
The <strong>landscape</strong>, animated by Kit Carson (1809‐1868), Buffalo Bill (1846‐1917), Wild<br />
Bill Hickock (1837‐1876) and by Calamity Jane (1852‐1903), people famous for <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
adventures in <strong>the</strong> wild West and for <strong>the</strong>ir loose living, originated in <strong>the</strong> improbable<br />
stories of men, such as Mike Fink (1770?‐1823?), an American semi‐legendary, antiheroe.<br />
Fink was <strong>the</strong> prototype of a man coming from <strong>the</strong> old world, travelling on a<br />
raft, who nowadays would just make us smile. Nicknamed <strong>the</strong> “king of <strong>the</strong><br />
keelboaters”, he was a “brawler”, a hard‐drinking man, famous for his extraordinary<br />
aim with a shotgun. Travellers like him, on <strong>the</strong> river and on horseback, soon fired<br />
<strong>the</strong> imagination in this part of America. A pioneer, such as Davy Crockett (1786‐<br />
1836), a popular hero and American politician owes his description as a “half‐horse,<br />
half‐alligator” man to stories such as <strong>the</strong> one about Fink. Many men of <strong>the</strong> West<br />
were given similar nicknames, which became a contradiction in terms as <strong>the</strong>y later<br />
went on to give <strong>the</strong>ir services to <strong>the</strong> civilisation of technology, although <strong>the</strong>y lived in<br />
<strong>the</strong> wild.<br />
Boasting and fraud soon became so typical of <strong>the</strong> frontier, as to inspire <strong>the</strong><br />
literature of <strong>the</strong> Dime Novels, which became <strong>the</strong> folk culture of <strong>the</strong> West [Figure<br />
129]. Public imagination created not only improbable men and situations, but also<br />
110
non‐existent places, such as rivers full of gold or rich, flourishing towns. In his<br />
description of <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong> West and its link with American humour, Marcus<br />
Cunliffe comments on some of <strong>the</strong>se curious episodes:<br />
The element of fraud, indeed, permeated American life and was a<br />
conspicuous element in American humour, from <strong>the</strong> Yankee pedlar with<br />
his wooden nutmegs to Bret Harte’s poem of <strong>the</strong> Hea<strong>the</strong>n Chinese who<br />
had twenty‐four jacks stuffed in his sleeves […] The ugliness of fraud was<br />
made into a joke, and <strong>the</strong>n even into a delight in deception. Humour<br />
softened a swindle as moonlight beautified <strong>the</strong> shapeless streets of <strong>the</strong><br />
Western town. If everyone was something of a showman, nobody<br />
ultimately was victimized […] this was one more of <strong>the</strong> hilarious<br />
incongruities of America. Who could help but laugh at <strong>the</strong>m: at <strong>the</strong> nonexistent<br />
towns, for instance, advertised with pictures that portrayed <strong>the</strong><br />
long‐established communities? Laurence Oliphant visited one in<br />
Wisconsin: . Or<br />
who could resist <strong>the</strong> comedy of American names (except Mat<strong>the</strong>w<br />
Arnold, whom <strong>the</strong>y offended)? Abraham Lincoln, for instance, when on<br />
his way to <strong>the</strong> Black Hawk War (which he burlesqued in Congress)<br />
paddled in a canoe from Pekin to Havana –and all in <strong>the</strong> state of Illinois.<br />
Western humour was bound to reflect <strong>the</strong>se incongruities 184 .<br />
But if <strong>the</strong> kingdom of rafts was soon to be replaced by that of <strong>the</strong> steamboats, <strong>the</strong><br />
latter was no less ephemeral, although longer lasting. A few decades after <strong>the</strong> Civil<br />
War, <strong>the</strong> steamboat left <strong>the</strong> river <strong>landscape</strong>. The frontier was directed way beyond<br />
<strong>the</strong> horizon of navigable waters and moved on land along <strong>the</strong> railroad tracks. In fact,<br />
<strong>the</strong> waterways and <strong>the</strong> steamboats underwent a crisis for two reasons. The<br />
turnpikes improved over time and thus became a favourite, and <strong>the</strong> train was able<br />
to count on a close network of internal connections from <strong>the</strong> 1860s onwards [Figure<br />
184 CUNLIFFE, Marcus, The Literature of <strong>the</strong> United States, Harmondsworth, Penguin Books, 1969, p.<br />
164‐165 (Italian translation Storia della letteratura <strong>american</strong>a, Turin, Einaudi, 1970, pp. 171‐172)<br />
111
72]. The Philadelphia and Lancaster Turnpike 185 (1795), 62 miles long, was <strong>the</strong> first<br />
paved road in <strong>the</strong> United States. This road, like many o<strong>the</strong>rs built later, was run by a<br />
private company. Paying roads had bridges and toll houses, and were organised<br />
with precise tariffs, applied according to <strong>the</strong> different types of transport and <strong>the</strong><br />
journey covered. They were used ei<strong>the</strong>r by <strong>the</strong> Conestoga wagons, a typical<br />
German means of transport, pulled by oxen or horses, or by <strong>the</strong> prairie schooners, a<br />
smaller version more suitable for crossing into <strong>the</strong> prairies [Figures 82‐84]. “[…]<br />
most of <strong>the</strong> transportation of <strong>the</strong> plains and <strong>the</strong> Great American Desert was done<br />
by ox‐teams. These were run in trains of ten to fifty or sixty teams, <strong>the</strong> teams<br />
consisting usually of five to seven yokes of oxen and lead and trail wagons built for<br />
<strong>the</strong> purpose” 186 .<br />
The turnpike system was inspired by some similar experiments already carried out<br />
in England, where <strong>the</strong>y had shown <strong>the</strong>y could guarantee <strong>the</strong> feasibility and<br />
economic success of <strong>the</strong> enterprise. The first large road constructed by <strong>the</strong> Federal<br />
government was <strong>the</strong> Cumberland Road 187 , from Cumberland, Maryland to Vandalia,<br />
Illinois. Construction began in 1811, and ended due to <strong>the</strong> panic of 1837. President<br />
Jefferson authorised <strong>the</strong> road project in 1806 and thirty years later it remained<br />
partially incomplete. The road ran for a total of 620 miles to connect <strong>the</strong> River<br />
Potomac with <strong>the</strong> River Ohio. This road had military origins, as <strong>the</strong> original route of<br />
1755 nicknamed Braddock Road was built according to an idea of <strong>the</strong> English<br />
general, Edward Braddock and his aide‐de‐camp, George Washington, during an<br />
expedition against <strong>the</strong> Indians and <strong>the</strong> French. However, <strong>the</strong> military route was little<br />
more than a path. Numerous distinctive constructions were built along <strong>the</strong><br />
Cumberland Road, such as toll houses, mile markers, inns/hotels, as well as<br />
important infrastructures, such as <strong>the</strong> Casselman Bridge, Grantsville, Maryland, an<br />
arched masonry bridge, or in 1849, <strong>the</strong> 310 metre‐long Wheeling Suspension<br />
Bridge, which made it <strong>the</strong> longest suspension bridge in <strong>the</strong> world. The Wheeling<br />
185 See LANDIS, Charles, The first Long Turnpike in <strong>the</strong> United States, Lancaster, The New Era Printing<br />
Company, 1917; WITMER, A. Exton, The Old Turnpike, Lanacaster, Reprinted from The New Era, 1897<br />
186 See HOOKER, William Francis, The Prairie Schooner, Chicago, Saul Bro<strong>the</strong>rs, 1918, p. 29<br />
187 See HULBERT, Archer Butler, The Cumberland Road, (Historic Highways of America Vol. N. 10),<br />
Cleveland, Ohio, The Arthur H. Clark Company, 1904; RAITZ, Karl B. (ed.), The National Road,<br />
Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University, 1996<br />
112
Bridge is a good example of <strong>the</strong> industrial and technological level <strong>the</strong> United States<br />
had reached in just a few years. The first American iron bridge had appeared only<br />
ten years before. Dunlap’s Creek Bridge (1839) in Brownsville, Pennsylvania was a<br />
modest work which appeared late on <strong>the</strong> scene, when compared to <strong>the</strong> iron<br />
structures built in England from 1775 onwards (an example is <strong>the</strong> Iron bridge over<br />
<strong>the</strong> River Severn). The Wheeling Bridge was designed by Charles Ellet (1810‐1862),<br />
an engineer specialised in suspension bridges and involved in <strong>the</strong> project design<br />
team of <strong>the</strong> contemporaneous Niagara Falls Suspension Bridge [Figures 86‐87],<br />
which John Roebling 188 also took part in (1806‐1869). These two bridges showed<br />
not only surprising engineering progress, but were also spectacular <strong>landscape</strong><br />
machines of <strong>the</strong> time, as <strong>the</strong>y enabled <strong>the</strong> territory to be enjoyed by creating<br />
privileged observation points of charming sceneries.<br />
Road expansion led to <strong>the</strong> development of fences [Figure 85], one of <strong>the</strong> main<br />
problems for farmers and communities 189 . The first pioneers and colonists allowed<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir herds to move freely in <strong>the</strong> woods and each one protected his own crops from<br />
wandering animals. When many farmers began to settle and started to create <strong>the</strong><br />
first villages, <strong>the</strong> problem became so great that <strong>the</strong>y had to request special<br />
legislative measures. The herds created a problem for vegetable and flower<br />
gardens, <strong>the</strong>ir manure dirtied <strong>the</strong> roads, which soon became muddy and<br />
impassable 190 . In <strong>the</strong> 1860s, <strong>the</strong> States began to create <strong>the</strong> first fence/herd laws.<br />
John Jackson Brinckeroff speaks of <strong>the</strong> results obtained immediately after <strong>the</strong> laws<br />
were applied and observed: “[…] roads which were safer and cleaner and more<br />
agreeable to travel. And once cleared of cattle, <strong>the</strong>y were soon cleared of rubbish<br />
188 John Augustus Roebling (1806‐1869) with his son Washington (1837‐1926), is <strong>the</strong> architectdesigner<br />
of <strong>the</strong> Brooklyn Bridge in New York (1883)<br />
189 See JACKSON, John Brinckerhoff, American Space: <strong>the</strong> Centennial Years, 1865‐1876, New York,<br />
W.W. Norton, 1972, pp. 64‐67<br />
190 JACKSON wrote: “Here is <strong>the</strong> lament uttered by a farmer in upper New York State before a local<br />
fence law was passed in <strong>the</strong> 1860s. ”, Ibid. p. 65<br />
113
[…] Thus <strong>the</strong>re gradually evolved in villages and on farms throughout <strong>the</strong> Midwest<br />
<strong>the</strong> uninterrupted lawn stretching from <strong>the</strong> house to edge of <strong>the</strong> street or road; and<br />
along <strong>the</strong> street or road trees were soon planted. It was thus that a familiar feature<br />
of <strong>the</strong> American rural <strong>landscape</strong> came into being, a feature so familiar indeed that<br />
few inquire as to its origin. As <strong>the</strong>y were enacted across <strong>the</strong> country, <strong>the</strong> herd laws<br />
not only freed farmers from an increasingly burdensome expense, <strong>the</strong>y transformed<br />
<strong>the</strong> rural environment” 191 . At <strong>the</strong> same time, <strong>the</strong> railroad became <strong>the</strong> fastest and<br />
most efficient means in <strong>the</strong> advance westwards. In 1828 <strong>the</strong> Baltimore & Ohio was<br />
built, <strong>the</strong> first railroad with carriages pulled by horses. The first steam locomotives<br />
appeared a few months later. From <strong>the</strong> 1830s onwards, small stretches of railroad<br />
developed in <strong>the</strong> East of <strong>the</strong> country. In 1840 <strong>the</strong> United States had 5,360 km of<br />
railroad, but by 1860 <strong>the</strong> network had been extended to approximately 50,000 km.<br />
Enthusiasm for <strong>the</strong> railroad in <strong>the</strong> first thirty years was such that private individuals<br />
invested 1,250 million dollars into <strong>the</strong>ir construction 192 . The idea of a<br />
transcontinental railroad only came later in 1845 after <strong>the</strong> Californian gold rush. The<br />
Pacific Railway Act was passed in 1862. This measure authorised <strong>the</strong> construction of<br />
<strong>the</strong> railroad across <strong>the</strong> American continent and awarded free lands along <strong>the</strong> route<br />
to <strong>the</strong> contracting companies. The first Transcontinental Railroad was built between<br />
1863 and 1869 by <strong>the</strong> Union Pacific Railroad and Central Pacific Railroad of<br />
California, from which it got its name of Pacific Railroad. It connected Council Bluffs,<br />
Iowa and Omaha, Nebraska (via Ogden, Utah, and Sacramento, California) with <strong>the</strong><br />
Pacific Ocean, at Oakland, California [Figures 130‐131]. As for <strong>the</strong> toll roads, rivalry<br />
between companies led to a duplication of <strong>the</strong> route. The route of <strong>the</strong> Sou<strong>the</strong>rn<br />
Pacific Transportation Company ended decades later by joining operations with<br />
Central Pacific, to <strong>the</strong>n merge with <strong>the</strong>m only in 1885. There was a proper challenge<br />
between investors to construct <strong>the</strong> railroad infrastructures. Whoever arrived first at<br />
<strong>the</strong> final goal could count on lands awarded by law, but also on guaranteed profits,<br />
as well as <strong>the</strong> publicity from <strong>the</strong> success of <strong>the</strong> enterprise. Telegraph lines were<br />
built at <strong>the</strong> same time as <strong>the</strong> railroad and <strong>the</strong>se brought about <strong>the</strong> decline of <strong>the</strong><br />
191 Ibid., pp. 66‐67<br />
192 For this data see JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐1992, London,<br />
Oxford University Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] (Italian translation Storia degli Stati Uniti d’America.<br />
Dalle prime colonie inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milan, Bompiani 2011, p. 107)<br />
114
job of Pony Express. They confirmed once and for all America’s numerous<br />
technological potentials and prepared <strong>the</strong> way for California’s economic success.<br />
The first experimental telegraph line was constructed by Samuel Morse (1791‐1872)<br />
between Washington and Baltimore in 1844. By 1861, <strong>the</strong> first transcontinental<br />
telegraph line had been constructed by <strong>the</strong> Western Union Company in association<br />
with <strong>the</strong> Californian telegraph companies to found <strong>the</strong> Overland Telegraph<br />
Company. Private competition was also considerable in this field as it had been for<br />
<strong>the</strong> railroads. The railroads played an incredible role in <strong>the</strong> cultural unification of<br />
<strong>the</strong> United States and showed considerable effort of engineering linked to <strong>the</strong><br />
colonisation of <strong>the</strong> West. If <strong>the</strong> railroads were to create a scenario linked with<br />
transport speed by bringing <strong>the</strong> power of <strong>the</strong> machine into <strong>the</strong> wilderness, it has to<br />
be remembered that <strong>the</strong>y destroyed some of <strong>the</strong> more genuine prairie <strong>landscape</strong>s<br />
[Figure 128]. We are not going to mention <strong>the</strong> direct consequences of railroad<br />
construction, but we will be referring to <strong>the</strong> indirect results that construction<br />
brought about. The buffalo hunt from a moving train is among <strong>the</strong> most moving<br />
scenes and was portrayed in various pictures of <strong>the</strong> period [Figures 133‐134].<br />
Episodes of this type symbolised a culture clash, that of <strong>the</strong> people, who killed for a<br />
hunting trophy and <strong>the</strong> Indian culture of <strong>the</strong> prairies, which depended on <strong>the</strong><br />
buffalos for food and a great number of <strong>the</strong>ir possessions. At <strong>the</strong> beginning of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century, <strong>the</strong> American Fur Company traded furs with <strong>the</strong> Indians and<br />
from <strong>the</strong> 1830s onwards many furs were transported by steamboat. Immediately<br />
after <strong>the</strong> war, that is to say with <strong>the</strong> large expansion of <strong>the</strong> railroads, <strong>the</strong> turnover<br />
on furs made it one of <strong>the</strong> most important trades. The historian, Frederick Jackson<br />
Turner (1861‐1932) himself, wrote his doctorate <strong>the</strong>sis on this very topic and began<br />
<strong>the</strong> first lines of argument, which led him to his fundamental study on The<br />
Significance of <strong>the</strong> Frontier in American History (1893). A mass of dedicated hunters<br />
were rendered fearless by <strong>the</strong> first appearance and diffusion of a new concept of<br />
arms, such as <strong>the</strong> Colt pistol and <strong>the</strong> Winchester rifle and increased <strong>the</strong>ir arrogance<br />
towards <strong>the</strong> Indians.<br />
Daniel Headrick dedicates some pages of his previously mentioned book, Power<br />
over Peoples. Technology, Environment, and Western Imperialism, to <strong>the</strong>se<br />
115
events 193 . From 1870, when <strong>the</strong> railroads had already reached <strong>the</strong> land of <strong>the</strong><br />
buffalo, west of <strong>the</strong> Mississipi, <strong>the</strong> American army was working to control <strong>the</strong><br />
territories and to ensure <strong>the</strong> submission of <strong>the</strong> prairie Indians and supplied <strong>the</strong><br />
professional hunters with free bullets. The entire economy linked to <strong>the</strong> buffalo,<br />
which allowed <strong>the</strong> Indians to survive and to purchase small everyday goods, was<br />
wiped away in a few years. Headrick reports <strong>the</strong> disconsolate words of Colonnel<br />
Doge; “Where <strong>the</strong> year before myriads of buffalo roamed, <strong>the</strong>re was now a myriad<br />
of carcasses. The area gave off a nauseating stench and <strong>the</strong> endless prairies, [...]<br />
were a solitary death, a putrid desert” 194 [Figures 128‐134].<br />
The rapid transformations begun in <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century were accelerated<br />
and occasionally caused by <strong>the</strong> Civil War itself, and opened <strong>the</strong> doors to <strong>the</strong> period,<br />
which Mumford defines and describes as <strong>the</strong> Brown Decades. “The growth of steel<br />
mills, <strong>the</strong> mechanization of agriculture, <strong>the</strong> substitution of petroleum for whale oil,<br />
<strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> trade union movement, and <strong>the</strong> concentration of great<br />
fortunes, built up by graft, speculation, war‐profits, or <strong>the</strong> outright donation of<br />
priceless lands to great railway corporations” 195 , had finally put a system into a<br />
difficult position, one which <strong>the</strong> war had simply overcome by untying <strong>the</strong> political<br />
knot of <strong>the</strong> abolition of slavery. Similarly, material progress introduced had been<br />
overvalued to such an extent that <strong>the</strong> improvement in living conditions had hidden<br />
what was being lost. Enormous amounts of land were placed in <strong>the</strong> hands of a few<br />
owners, and natural <strong>landscape</strong>s were destroyed under a veil of asphalt soot. The<br />
railroad brought with it <strong>the</strong> filth of <strong>the</strong> city, <strong>the</strong> mines, and steelworks. “[...] At first<br />
<strong>the</strong> advantages and <strong>the</strong> defilements were so closely associated that people even<br />
prided <strong>the</strong>mselves on <strong>the</strong> smoke of <strong>the</strong> thriving town [...] But this assault on <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> was not confined to <strong>the</strong> industrial city: a parallel ruin went on <strong>the</strong><br />
193 HEADRICK, Daniel R., Power over Peoples. Technology, Environment, and Western Imperialism,<br />
1400 to Present, Princeton‐Oxford, Princeton University Press, 2010 [English text translated from<br />
Italian by <strong>the</strong> editor] (Italian translation by Giovanni Arganese, Il predominio dell’occidente.<br />
Tecnologia, ambiente, imperialismo, Bologna, Il Mulino, 2010, pp. 246‐254)<br />
194 Ibid., p. 253<br />
195 MUMFORD, Lewis, The Brown Decades, New York, Dover Publication, 1971 [first ed. 1931], p. 2<br />
(Italian translation edited by Francesco Dal Co, Architettura e cultura in America, dalla guerra civile<br />
all’ultima frontiera, Venice, Marsilio, 1977, p. 34)<br />
116
countryside” 196 . Moreover, <strong>the</strong> conscience of individuals was removed from civil<br />
commitment, which appeared to exhaust itself with its experience of firearms and<br />
to encourage <strong>the</strong> anonymity of <strong>the</strong> crowds.<br />
Whitman’s cry of “O Captain! My Captain” not only recalled Lincoln’s death, but<br />
also highlighted <strong>the</strong> changes in a framework of universal bereavement for <strong>the</strong><br />
United States.<br />
New values gradually replaced old ideologies in a complex mutual relationship.<br />
Colonisation of <strong>the</strong> West via <strong>the</strong> industrial revolution highlighted what had been<br />
previously ignored. Up until <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong> natural <strong>landscape</strong> had been no more than an<br />
opportunity to build a town, to dig mines, a tool to let lease <strong>the</strong> power of <strong>the</strong><br />
machine and a testing bench for technological experiments. These very contrasts<br />
brought <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> to <strong>the</strong> attention of <strong>the</strong> Americans and used urban parks to<br />
introduce <strong>the</strong> wilderness into <strong>the</strong> town.<br />
Industrial America broke <strong>the</strong> spirit of <strong>the</strong> pioneer and his practical relationship with<br />
nature. At <strong>the</strong> same time it allowed a summary and critical revision to be made. The<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> took on a public significance and toge<strong>the</strong>r with <strong>the</strong> value of <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship between man and nature, led to a line of collective thought, to which<br />
men, such as Emerson and Thoreau, were <strong>the</strong> first to contribute, showing a<br />
sophisticated, very modern sensitivity, free from any residual romanticism.<br />
196 Ibid., p. 28 (it. tr. p. 65)<br />
117
Figure 67- View of Lowell, Massachusetts, 1850. Note along <strong>the</strong> river <strong>the</strong> manufatures <strong>building</strong>s<br />
(mills).<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 68- Map of Chelmsford, early settlement of Lowell, 1821<br />
Digital Map Collection of Lowell (The University of Massachusetts Lowell, Center for Lowell<br />
History in conjunction with <strong>the</strong> Lowell Historical Society, Lowell National Historical Park and<br />
Nor<strong>the</strong>rn Middlesex Regional Library System)
Figure 69- The industrial change of a manufacture city: canals and mills are built in a few<br />
years to develope and improve <strong>the</strong> production. Map of of Lowell, 1832<br />
Digital Map Collection of Lowell (The University of Massachusetts Lowell, Center for Lowell<br />
History in conjunction with <strong>the</strong> Lowell Historical Society, Lowell National Historical Park and<br />
Nor<strong>the</strong>rn Middlesex Regional Library System)
Figure 70- Waterfront of St. Louis, Missouri, bird’s eye view of river life with steamboats and<br />
city <strong>building</strong>s, lithograph by A. Janicke & Co, 1859<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 71- Birds’ eye view of New-Orleans, drawn by J. Bachman, 1851<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 72-The steam power: particular of a lithograph that represents a panoramic view of St<br />
Louis, Missouri, by Leopold Gast & Bro<strong>the</strong>r, 1855<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 73-Two steamboats race on <strong>the</strong> Mississippi. In foreground a raft,1859<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 74- The map shows character and extent of settlement in 1820<br />
(From <strong>the</strong> book: The Erie Canal and <strong>the</strong> Settlement of <strong>the</strong> West, by Lois Kimball<br />
Ma<strong>the</strong>ws, 1910)
Figure 75- The map shows character and extent of settlement in 1840 after <strong>the</strong> construction of<br />
many canals. The frontier line is along <strong>the</strong> Mississippi river.<br />
(From <strong>the</strong> book: The Erie Canal and <strong>the</strong> Settlement of <strong>the</strong> West, by Lois Kimball<br />
Ma<strong>the</strong>ws, 1910)
Figure 76- Articifi al <strong>landscape</strong> of Erie Canal: Deep Cuttin Lockport, 1825<br />
Note <strong>the</strong> height of <strong>the</strong> towpath on <strong>the</strong> right side and <strong>the</strong> horse drawn boat.<br />
(Image from <strong>the</strong> Book: Memoir prepared at <strong>the</strong> request of commitee of <strong>the</strong> common council of<br />
<strong>the</strong> city of New York, and presented to <strong>the</strong> Mayor of <strong>the</strong> city, at <strong>the</strong> celebration of <strong>the</strong> completion<br />
of <strong>the</strong> New York canals, by Cadwallader D. Colden, 1825)<br />
Figure 77- A horse-drawn boat in <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal, 1883<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> Book: America illustrated, Boston, DeWolfe, Fiske & Company Publishers, by<br />
J. David Williams, 1883 (illustration at page 88)
Figure 78- The Locks of Lockport, View at <strong>the</strong> completion of <strong>the</strong> original canal,1825<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> Book: Memoir prepared at <strong>the</strong> request of commitee of <strong>the</strong> common council of<br />
<strong>the</strong> city of New York, and presented to <strong>the</strong> Mayor of <strong>the</strong> city, at <strong>the</strong> celebration of <strong>the</strong> completion<br />
of <strong>the</strong> New York canals, by Cadwallader D. Colden, 1825<br />
Figure 79- View of te Erie Canal from <strong>the</strong> locks of Lockport, 1840<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> book: American scenery, or Land, lake and river illustrations of transatlantic<br />
nature, from drawings by W. H. Bartlett, London, by Nathaniel Parker Willis, 1840
Figure 80- The natural <strong>landscape</strong> and Erie Canal, 1883<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> Book: America illustrated, Boston, DeWolfe, Fiske & Company Publishers, by<br />
J. David Williams, 1883 (illustration at page 90)
Figure 81- Map of <strong>the</strong> various channels for conveying <strong>the</strong> trade of <strong>the</strong> north west to <strong>the</strong> Atlantic<br />
sea-board exhibiting <strong>the</strong> tributaries & drainage of <strong>the</strong> trade into each and <strong>the</strong> effect of <strong>the</strong><br />
enlargement of <strong>the</strong> Erie Canal,1853<br />
Outline map of <strong>the</strong> eastern half of <strong>the</strong> United States showing canals, fi nished railroads, railroads<br />
in progress of contruction and proposed lines. Trade areas are indicated by line symbols<br />
and added brown and red color.<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 82- Pioneer family in front of two Conestooga wagons on a plain with mountaind in <strong>the</strong><br />
background c.1870<br />
(Denver Public Library - Digital Collection)<br />
Figure 83- Covered wagon train in <strong>the</strong> prairie. The last large bull train on its way from <strong>the</strong><br />
railroad to <strong>the</strong> Black Hills, 1890<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 84- Mormon pioneers about to enter Salt Lake Valley, (1847?)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 85- Roads and fences in Winona County, Minnesota (Note orchards, road, railway in <strong>the</strong><br />
pairie <strong>landscape</strong> transfomated to cultures; <strong>the</strong> animals are in lands border with fences): Residence<br />
and fruit farm of Stephan Eldridge, 3 miles south west of Winona, Minnesota. (with) Bird’s<br />
eye view of <strong>the</strong> farm & residence of E.S. Harvey Esq., Saratoga Tp., Winona County. (with)<br />
Bird’s eye view of <strong>the</strong> farm of Jas. Monk Esq., Rolling Stone Tp., Winona Co., 1876<br />
(David Rumsey Historical Map Collection Archive)<br />
From <strong>the</strong> book: “An illustrated historical atlas of <strong>the</strong> State of Minnesota”. Published by A.T. Andreas,<br />
Lakeside Building, Chicago, Ills. 1874. Chas. Shober & Co. Prop. of Chicago Lith. Co”
Figure 86 - Picnic near Niagara Suspension Bridge, 1859, Ialbumen silver print by William<br />
England (Museum of Modern Art Collection, New York)
Figure 87- John Augustus Roebling:The Rail road suspension bridge: near Niagara Falls,<br />
1856 (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Manifest Destiny<br />
Go West, young man, go West and grow up with <strong>the</strong> country 197 .<br />
Horace Greeley<br />
The revolution begun by <strong>the</strong> means of transport created a collective feeling of<br />
euphoria. The speed at which journeys could be made and <strong>the</strong> dynamism with<br />
which <strong>the</strong> new settlements developed in wild territories were <strong>the</strong> logical<br />
consequences of this revolution. Certain cultural impulses provided by foreign<br />
politics were added to <strong>the</strong>se experiences, which marked <strong>the</strong> highest moment of<br />
intense territorial expansion. Once <strong>the</strong> territories of Louisiana had been annexed<br />
and <strong>the</strong> plains of <strong>the</strong> Mid‐west of <strong>the</strong> United States had been occupied, attention<br />
was turned to relationships with Mexico, which been granted independence from<br />
Spain in 1882. In <strong>the</strong> decade from 1840‐1850, politics were disturbed by an ideology<br />
called Manifest Destiny, which led to <strong>the</strong> annexation of Texas, Oregon, California,<br />
New Mexico and Utah (some of which only subsequently became states).<br />
The doctrine of Manifest Destiny can be described as a sort of popular belief, which<br />
encouraged people to have faith in <strong>the</strong> resources of <strong>the</strong> United States. It believed<br />
that <strong>the</strong> United States of America were destined to fulfil great tasks, beginning with<br />
<strong>the</strong> control of <strong>the</strong> North American continent.<br />
The basic conditions for <strong>the</strong>se changes were evident from <strong>the</strong> 1820s, <strong>the</strong> time when<br />
a very popular, direct politics was developed. The first presidents of <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States came from rich, aristocratic families from <strong>the</strong> East and were well‐educated,<br />
well‐read men. Following <strong>the</strong> election of Andrew Jackson (1767‐1845) in 1828,<br />
ironic nicknames became common and, as <strong>the</strong> historian, Morton Keller, has shown,<br />
a political slang caught on, which was a direct reminder of frontier life: Jackson was<br />
<strong>the</strong> Old Hickory, Martin Van Buren <strong>the</strong> red fox of <strong>the</strong> West, whereas an unknown<br />
candidate was nicknamed “unpredictable horse […] <strong>the</strong> awardings of funds
arrels of pork meat>>, often approved , i.e. with political<br />
manipulation 198 .<br />
Andrew Jackson’s presidency polarised popular instincts by playing on his fame as a<br />
heroe, which he had acquired during his military career and during <strong>the</strong> battles<br />
against <strong>the</strong> English and <strong>the</strong> Indians. Jackson’s politics during his presidency from<br />
1829 to 1837 had widened <strong>the</strong> Republican ideas of Jefferson. Jackson’s egalitarian<br />
propaganda did not evoke <strong>the</strong> land (and <strong>the</strong>refore property), but had identified <strong>the</strong><br />
citizens’ right to vote and to express <strong>the</strong>ir feelings, which enhanced his role as<br />
president of humble origins, elected by popular will. His policies, which focused on<br />
<strong>the</strong> line to restrict action by <strong>the</strong> federal government in favour of initiatives by<br />
individual states, made a decisive contribution to <strong>the</strong> push towards <strong>the</strong> West. One<br />
of <strong>the</strong> most significant episodes was when Jackson decided not to intervene in <strong>the</strong><br />
dispute concerning <strong>the</strong> removal of <strong>the</strong> Cherokee Indians from <strong>the</strong>ir lands in Georgia.<br />
According to a series of treaties dating back to 1791, <strong>the</strong> United States had<br />
recognised, <strong>the</strong> Cherokees as <strong>the</strong> inhabitants of a true nation, with its own laws,<br />
rights and customs. Recognition of this status was also linked to <strong>the</strong> civilised<br />
condition of <strong>the</strong>se Indians, who were part of <strong>the</strong> so‐called “Five Civilized Tribes”<br />
(Cherokee, Chictaw, Creek, Chickasaw, Seminole). However, in 1828, following <strong>the</strong><br />
discovery of gold in <strong>the</strong>ir lands, <strong>the</strong> state of Georgia ignored <strong>the</strong> previous<br />
agreements and deprived <strong>the</strong> Cherokees of <strong>the</strong>ir property. Despite an appeal by <strong>the</strong><br />
Indians to <strong>the</strong> Court of Appeal and <strong>the</strong>ir subsequent victory, Jackson did nothing to<br />
bring <strong>the</strong> sentence in <strong>the</strong>ir favour into effect. On <strong>the</strong> contrary, he used <strong>the</strong> Indian<br />
Removal Act of 1830 to encourage <strong>the</strong> removal under <strong>the</strong> threat of firearms of all<br />
<strong>the</strong> Indian tribes to beyond <strong>the</strong> borders of <strong>the</strong> Mississipi, along what was known as<br />
“<strong>the</strong> trail of tears (or literally “Trail Where They Cried”). Therefore, if on <strong>the</strong> one<br />
hand, Jackson was <strong>the</strong> assertor of autonomy for <strong>the</strong> individual states, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
he proved to be a decided supporter of <strong>the</strong> Union, especially during protests by <strong>the</strong><br />
sou<strong>the</strong>rn states, caused by <strong>the</strong> introduction of protectionist policies, which<br />
198 JONES, A., Maldwyn, The Limits of Liberty American History 1607‐1992, London, Oxford University<br />
Press, 1995 [first ed. 1983] (Italian translation Storia degli Stati Uniti d’ America. Dalle prime colonie<br />
inglesi ai giorni nostri, Milan, Bompiani, 2011, p. 125)<br />
119
favoured <strong>the</strong> manufacturing system and put <strong>the</strong> agricultural economy of <strong>the</strong> lands<br />
used for intensive cultivation to <strong>the</strong> test.<br />
However, Jackson’s policy of laissez faire was particularly intended to oppose <strong>the</strong><br />
financial and banking system. In fact, he believed that <strong>the</strong> central government<br />
should not favour social imbalance by financing or encouraging <strong>the</strong> creation of<br />
banks. On <strong>the</strong> contrary he believed it should guarantee an increased number of<br />
opportunities for individuals and should incentivise social mobility. The Bank War<br />
was supposed to have been identified as <strong>the</strong> primary element and was at times<br />
becoming an unmotivated obsession for <strong>the</strong> Jackson movement.<br />
The presidency of Martin Van Buren (1782‐1862), <strong>the</strong> first president born in <strong>the</strong><br />
independent republic of <strong>the</strong> USA, was also founded on <strong>the</strong> same political basis. Van<br />
Buren found he was facing <strong>the</strong> problem of a request for annexation by <strong>the</strong> newly<br />
created republic of Texas (proclaimed in 1836). However, he never tackled <strong>the</strong><br />
question and delayed recognition of <strong>the</strong> new state, due to complex reasons of<br />
foreign policy (recognition of Texas would have been a declaration of war against<br />
Mexico) and internal politics (<strong>the</strong> American colonists who had settled in Texas<br />
practised slavery). Tensions regarding <strong>the</strong> recognition of <strong>the</strong> Republic of Texas<br />
exploded with <strong>the</strong> Mexican‐American War, fought between 1846 and 1848, which<br />
also involved <strong>the</strong> Mexican provinces of California and New Mexico.<br />
Behind all <strong>the</strong>se political upheavals lay <strong>the</strong> ideology of Manifest Destiny, sponsored<br />
by local politicians and publicised by <strong>the</strong> newspapers. The citizens of <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States became convinced <strong>the</strong>ir actions were predestined and this corroborated and<br />
fired expansionist aims and <strong>the</strong> rush towards <strong>the</strong> West.<br />
This was a collective, mass phenomenon, which had a profound effect on <strong>the</strong> young<br />
American nation and crept into political action like a genetic aberration over a<br />
number of decades in <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century.<br />
Various hypo<strong>the</strong>ses exist regarding <strong>the</strong> appearance of <strong>the</strong> expression of Manifest<br />
Destiny. The most reliable one insists on <strong>the</strong> term having been adopted in 1845 by<br />
<strong>the</strong> journalist, John Louis O’Sullivan (1813‐1895), an influential ideologist of<br />
Jackson’s supporters at <strong>the</strong> time. In one of his articles entitled “Annexation”,<br />
published in United States Magazine and Democratic Review 17, no.1 (July‐August<br />
120
1845), he incited <strong>the</strong> United States to annex <strong>the</strong> Republic of Texas, since it was<br />
“manifest destiny to overspread <strong>the</strong> continent allotted by Providence for <strong>the</strong> free<br />
development of our yearly multiplying millions”.<br />
As a result, a disturbing and at <strong>the</strong> same time expressive scenario was created,<br />
against which only one voice arose to contradict it, that of Henry David Thoreau, a<br />
passionate supporter of non‐intervention in Mexico, that is to say of Resistance to<br />
Civil Government.<br />
If American morals were saved only thanks to Thoreau’s ideas expressed in his essay<br />
on Civil Disobedience published in 1849, American progress identified itself in a<br />
strange ideological tangle. The numerous facets of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> included new<br />
means of transport, pioneers, farmers, technological inventions, <strong>the</strong> struggle<br />
against <strong>the</strong> Indians and <strong>the</strong> conquest of new territories. In <strong>the</strong> context of material<br />
progress, <strong>the</strong> cultural elements were <strong>the</strong> result not so much of political initiative,<br />
but more of individual initiative.<br />
The work by John Gast (1842‐?), American Progress (1872) [Figure 88], is picture,<br />
which summarises very well <strong>the</strong> salient features of those years and at <strong>the</strong> same<br />
time portrays a famous allegory of Manifest Destiny. Although Gast was a painter of<br />
modest artistic talent, he has given us a work which represents <strong>the</strong> most evident<br />
signs of <strong>the</strong> aforementioned climate. The scene is well‐known, as coloured prints<br />
were made of it. The painter uses <strong>the</strong> canvas to freeze a scene, which immediately<br />
appears to be alive and communicates <strong>the</strong> idea of a continually evolving present.<br />
The dominant figure in <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> picture is a modern goddess, Columbia,<br />
who represents <strong>the</strong> personification of America herself. She moves lightly forward<br />
with a book in one hand, while she extends telegraph cables with <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r. In <strong>the</strong><br />
distance, on <strong>the</strong> right‐hand side ships can be seen arriving on <strong>the</strong> new continent<br />
and railroad tracks depart from <strong>the</strong> coast, carrying trains which fly across <strong>the</strong><br />
territories of <strong>the</strong> United States. The locomotives run at full steam with smoke rising<br />
from <strong>the</strong> boiler stack. Nothing can prevent <strong>the</strong> advance of <strong>the</strong> new means of<br />
transport, even though <strong>the</strong> tracks appear to stop a few metres in front of <strong>the</strong> train.<br />
The coach and Pony Express appear to launch <strong>the</strong>mselves at <strong>the</strong> same speed<br />
towards <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> picture, but <strong>the</strong>y can only perform where <strong>the</strong> power of<br />
121
<strong>the</strong> machine has not yet reached. This picture is totally allegorical. If <strong>the</strong> animals<br />
represent <strong>the</strong> wild world, <strong>the</strong>n <strong>the</strong> book held tightly by <strong>the</strong> goddess symbolises <strong>the</strong><br />
civilising mission and awareness of America. The groups of people also have to be<br />
interpreted in <strong>the</strong> logic of <strong>the</strong> advance of progress from East to West, similar to <strong>the</strong><br />
movement of <strong>the</strong> sun. The human figures in <strong>the</strong> bottom right‐hand corner are<br />
typical colonists. They have bordered <strong>the</strong>ir property with a fence, <strong>the</strong>y have built a<br />
house on <strong>the</strong>ir own land and <strong>the</strong>y are ploughing <strong>the</strong> fields in order to start sowing<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir crops. A little fur<strong>the</strong>r on are <strong>the</strong> pioneers on horseback and <strong>the</strong> hunters who<br />
open up <strong>the</strong> road. Where a prairie schooner has passed lie <strong>the</strong> carcasses of <strong>the</strong><br />
buffalo, <strong>the</strong> tragic remains of <strong>the</strong> passage of <strong>the</strong> white man, signs of <strong>the</strong> advancing<br />
frontier. At <strong>the</strong> foot of <strong>the</strong> mountains, amidst <strong>the</strong> mist vague forms appear which<br />
make us think of troops of soldiers on <strong>the</strong> move or of stable settlements which<br />
blend into <strong>the</strong> horizon. To <strong>the</strong> left of <strong>the</strong> picture, between <strong>the</strong> fleeing buffalo and<br />
wild animals, are <strong>the</strong> Indians, portrayed as incapable and reluctant to adapt to<br />
progress. The only threat is suggested by <strong>the</strong> dust roused by <strong>the</strong> buffalo, which<br />
envelops <strong>the</strong> left‐hand side of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> in an aura of mystery. This does not<br />
really intimidate, but is ra<strong>the</strong>r a setback which arouses <strong>the</strong> explorer’s curiosity.<br />
Gast’s <strong>landscape</strong>, full of familiar scenes of frontier life, is powerfully descriptive and<br />
engrossing, even though it is based on stereotypes and summons up <strong>the</strong> symbols of<br />
<strong>the</strong> culture of Manifest Destiny. The conquest of new territories proved essential in<br />
<strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> ideology of <strong>the</strong> frontier and <strong>the</strong> American economy.<br />
At first, expansion was a simple affirmation of backward, predatory systems to<br />
exploit <strong>the</strong> soil and <strong>the</strong> natural resources. In o<strong>the</strong>r words, expansion reflected <strong>the</strong><br />
needs of <strong>the</strong> landowners of <strong>the</strong> Deep South, who had used <strong>the</strong> plantations to create<br />
an effective driving force to conquer <strong>the</strong> territories. Agricultural production costs<br />
remained low and consumed land capital. At a later stage, colonisation of <strong>the</strong> West<br />
began to create a conscience in people, which became part of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
ideology. The Dimes novels by Erastus Flavel Beadle (1821‐1894) and <strong>the</strong> paintings<br />
of <strong>the</strong> West helped to make a world of pioneers, outlaws, stage‐coaches, buffalo<br />
hunters and Indians generally familiar [Figures 128‐134]. Without any awareness,<br />
<strong>the</strong> Americans were destroying <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s, for which <strong>the</strong>y had fought so dearly.<br />
122
Manifest Destiny began <strong>the</strong> period of <strong>the</strong> West, but it also highlighted its<br />
ephemeral, transitory side. These years blew out <strong>the</strong> pioneer’s flame of hope of<br />
finding redemption in <strong>the</strong> wild life and inaugurated <strong>the</strong> work of <strong>the</strong> cowboy in<br />
territories where agriculture was impossible due to adverse wea<strong>the</strong>r conditions.<br />
The Mormons’ dream of founding <strong>the</strong>ir own nation, named Desert, also had to<br />
make way for <strong>the</strong> political drive for expansion. The call of nature conjured up by<br />
Thoreau, Whitman and Emerson combined with <strong>the</strong> complex ideology of <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier, until it all merged with <strong>the</strong> adventurous romanticism of <strong>the</strong> cowboy, who<br />
with his herds followed in <strong>the</strong> opposite direction to <strong>the</strong> advance of colonisation.<br />
The cattle trails, such as <strong>the</strong> Goodnight‐Loving Trail (1866), named after two<br />
adventurers and cattle owners, closed <strong>the</strong> era of Manifest Destiny. They retraced<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir steps to sell <strong>the</strong>ir animals. Thousands of Texas Longhorns roamed <strong>the</strong><br />
territories, which had so far been <strong>the</strong> domain of wild animals, so that <strong>the</strong> plains<br />
became a huge ranch without borders. A different <strong>landscape</strong> had by now replaced a<br />
world, which was just as precarious as that of <strong>the</strong> first settlers as <strong>the</strong>y pushed<br />
westwards.<br />
123
Figure 88- American Progress, John Gast, 1872, (Chromolithography)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
First experiences of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening<br />
Landscape culture entered <strong>the</strong> United States via <strong>the</strong> experiences of <strong>the</strong> plantation<br />
homes of <strong>the</strong> Antebellum South and <strong>the</strong> development of horticulture in <strong>the</strong> states<br />
of New England in <strong>the</strong> East. Anglosaxon, Dutch, French and Spanish influences<br />
characterised <strong>the</strong> colonial period and defined <strong>the</strong> years immediately afterwards.<br />
These historic influences represented <strong>the</strong> founding nucleus of American <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardening, however, English romanticism did not fail to make some important<br />
contributions. The relationships between American and Anglosaxon culture had<br />
been open to dialectic debate on <strong>the</strong> topic of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> since <strong>the</strong> second half of<br />
<strong>the</strong> eighteenth century. On <strong>the</strong> one hand, <strong>the</strong>re was <strong>the</strong> tradition of gardening and<br />
<strong>the</strong> proposals of European Romanticism, which found fertile ground in <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, <strong>the</strong>re was a society which was rapidly consuming its imported,<br />
cultural baggage from overseas to satisfy its need to find a national culture. The<br />
reasons for this rapid absorption (and <strong>the</strong> consequences of <strong>the</strong> review of <strong>the</strong> English<br />
tradition) were at <strong>the</strong> basis of <strong>the</strong> originality of American <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. The<br />
rapid pace of <strong>the</strong> frontier and <strong>the</strong> scientific and naturalistic explorations of wild<br />
territories were peculiar to America. Frederick Law Olmsted was <strong>the</strong> figure who<br />
best summarised <strong>the</strong>se aspects by including in his work <strong>the</strong> anti‐geometric <strong>the</strong>ories<br />
of <strong>the</strong> English garden, as well as <strong>the</strong> American need for <strong>the</strong> rift between wilderness<br />
and contemporary metropoli. Not by chance did <strong>the</strong> so‐called Conservation<br />
Movement begin in <strong>the</strong> 1850s, to guarantee protection for <strong>the</strong> spectacular natural<br />
scenaries highlighted by <strong>the</strong> geographical and geological discoveries in <strong>the</strong> lands of<br />
<strong>the</strong> wilderness. This movement became so specific as a result of <strong>the</strong> opposite<br />
European preoccupation. During <strong>the</strong> same period in <strong>the</strong> old continent, <strong>the</strong> main<br />
problem in <strong>the</strong> topic of <strong>landscape</strong> was <strong>the</strong> question of how “to improve” nature.<br />
In England, for example, Capability Brown (1716‐1783) had been one of <strong>the</strong> first to<br />
introduce <strong>the</strong> lesson of picturesque into <strong>the</strong> concept of <strong>the</strong> garden. His project<br />
design method envisaged <strong>the</strong> rejection and neglect of geometrical and straight<br />
solutions and preferred a different approach, as Norman T. Newton claimed<br />
“somewhat unsteadily in a visual sense, in an oversoft surrounding of undulant<br />
124
meadow” 199 . Brown’s experiments had found <strong>the</strong> way to exploit and support some<br />
of <strong>the</strong> scenic aspects already present in nature’s own skills. The basic concept was<br />
to study and create within <strong>the</strong> garden project some views capable of conjuring up<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s portrayed in contemporary painting of <strong>the</strong> period. Brown’s ideas as<br />
regards <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> could be summed up in <strong>the</strong> words: “like a picture”. The<br />
improvements Brown made to nature soon began <strong>the</strong> controversy on <strong>the</strong> question<br />
of picturesque 200 , which allowed his very own method to evolve. In fact, shortly<br />
afterwards, Humphrey Repton (1752‐1818) perfected Brown’s ideas by using <strong>the</strong><br />
practices described in detail in his Red Books 201 , a series of texts which explained<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ory and practice of English <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. Repton’s ideas entered<br />
America indirectly thanks to Bernard McMahon (1775‐1816), an American<br />
horticulturist and botanist of Scottish origin. McMahon, as mentioned during our<br />
explanation of <strong>the</strong> Monticello project, was not merely Jefferson’s passionate<br />
gardening mentor, he was also <strong>the</strong> author of <strong>the</strong> book The American Gardner’s<br />
Calendar (1806). McMahon’s Calendar was modelled on <strong>the</strong> English formula of <strong>the</strong><br />
typical gardening handbooks and gave instructions month by month on how to<br />
plant, take care of <strong>the</strong> flora and prepare <strong>the</strong> garden soil. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, McMahon<br />
used his books to introduce <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>oretical and practical coverage of <strong>the</strong> subdivision<br />
of <strong>the</strong> spaces in <strong>the</strong> garden, according to a consolidated English method: kitchen<br />
garden on one side, fruit garden on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, orchard, nursery, pleasure (flower)<br />
garden, etc, <strong>the</strong>se were all conceived as separate entities, to distinguish <strong>the</strong><br />
utilitarian from <strong>the</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tic purposes. In <strong>the</strong> chapter entitled “The pleasure, or<br />
flower garden. Ornamental designs and planting”, McMahon especially seized <strong>the</strong><br />
typical elements of gardening and added new <strong>the</strong>ories introduced by Repton. In <strong>the</strong><br />
pages of <strong>the</strong> Calendar, McMahon affirms that<br />
199 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 212<br />
200 Think of Uvedal Price (1747‐1829), author of <strong>the</strong> Essay on <strong>the</strong> Picturesque, as compared with <strong>the</strong><br />
Sublime and <strong>the</strong> Beautiful (1794)<br />
201 Repton’s Red Books are three texts on garden design, so called because each volume was bound in<br />
red: Sketches and Hints on Landscape Gardening (1795), Observation on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening (1803), Fragments on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening (1816).<br />
These books incorporate numerous sketches that show <strong>the</strong> difference between what existed and<br />
what he proposed (before and after flaps). Repton’s work was also illustrated in <strong>the</strong> book Landscape<br />
Gardening and Landscape Architecture of <strong>the</strong> Late Humphry Repton (1840) by John Claudius Loudon<br />
(1783‐1843), eminent English botanist and garden designer.<br />
125
In designs for a pleasure‐ground, according to modern gardening,<br />
consulting rural disposition in imitation of nature, all too formal works<br />
being almost abolished, such as long straight walks, regular<br />
intersections, square grass‐plats, corresponding parterres quadrangular<br />
and angular spaces, and o<strong>the</strong>r uniformities, as in ancient designs;<br />
instead of which are now adopted rural open spaces of grass‐ground, of<br />
various forms and dimensions, and winding walks, all bounded with<br />
plantations of trees, shrubs, and flowers, in various clumps; o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
compartments are exhibited in a variety of imitative rural forms, such as<br />
curves, projections, openings and closings in imitation of natural<br />
assemblage; having all <strong>the</strong> various plantations and borders open to <strong>the</strong><br />
walks and lawns 202 .<br />
To complete his instructions, he also published a ground plan for <strong>the</strong> “design for a<br />
villa garden” [Figure 90], and provided precious advice on garden design and on <strong>the</strong><br />
selection of trees to plant. Jefferson changed all <strong>the</strong>se ideas in his project at<br />
Monticello to highlight some of <strong>the</strong> unusual features of <strong>the</strong> park around <strong>the</strong> house,<br />
such as <strong>the</strong> operations to clear <strong>the</strong> natural wood, <strong>the</strong> use of roundabouts, oval<br />
flower beds and <strong>the</strong> lawn in front of <strong>the</strong> villa [Figure 5]. Such choices in Jefferson’s<br />
project are to be stressed to show his knowledge of <strong>the</strong> practice of <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardening and his desire to leave behind <strong>the</strong> simple utilitarian logic which Jefferson<br />
appeared to use in his own estate of Monticello.<br />
Jefferson knew how to combine <strong>the</strong> elements of English <strong>landscape</strong> gardening with<br />
numerous o<strong>the</strong>r stimuli into his projects. The fascinating hypo<strong>the</strong>sis, that his<br />
admiration for Native Americans had led Jefferson to reproduce some of <strong>the</strong><br />
“landscaping” <strong>the</strong>y used, is probably one of <strong>the</strong> most complex, cultural intertwining<br />
that <strong>the</strong> work of Jefferson, <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> designer, had ever proposed. His<br />
dedication in <strong>the</strong> Entrance Hall at Monticello to Indian culture and <strong>the</strong> reproduction<br />
in <strong>the</strong> Poplar Forest project of <strong>the</strong> mounds, <strong>the</strong> typical monuments of <strong>the</strong> natives,<br />
are more than a mere hint. The mounds, used to complete <strong>the</strong> Neo‐palladian design<br />
of <strong>the</strong> villa, are witness to Jefferson’s knowledge of Indian culture, and <strong>the</strong><br />
incredible resemblance between <strong>the</strong> shape of <strong>the</strong> curtilage and of <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r areas<br />
202 MCMAHON, Bernard, The American Gardner’s Calendar, adapted to <strong>the</strong> climate and season of <strong>the</strong><br />
United States, Philadelphia, J.B. Lippincott and Co., 1857 (first ed. 1806) p. 74<br />
126
with specific transformations of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> carried out by <strong>the</strong> Indians, confirms<br />
this hypo<strong>the</strong>sis 203 .<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> common feature of <strong>the</strong> first interventions of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening in<br />
America appears to be <strong>the</strong> use of <strong>the</strong> lawn 204 as <strong>the</strong> central area in garden<br />
composition and <strong>the</strong> privileged viewpoint of <strong>the</strong> architecture. The lawn is <strong>the</strong><br />
natural space, which acts as counterpoint to <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>. It encourages <strong>the</strong><br />
discovery of <strong>the</strong> surrounding garden and offers views in perspective of both. In <strong>the</strong><br />
architecture of <strong>the</strong> colonial period, <strong>the</strong> layout of <strong>the</strong> gardens envisaged simple,<br />
geometric shapes 205 , many of <strong>the</strong> plants used came from England and <strong>the</strong><br />
architecture reflected a style which came to be known as Georgian Colonial, with<br />
differences in <strong>the</strong> use of materials between North and South. The preparation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> plantation <strong>landscape</strong>, especially in Virginia along <strong>the</strong> James River, saw <strong>the</strong> first<br />
changes and began to give a major role to <strong>the</strong> lawn in front of <strong>the</strong> owner’s villa. The<br />
gardens and house of <strong>the</strong> plantation owned by Colonnel John Tayole (1721‐1779) at<br />
Mount Airy, Richmond County, near Warsaw, Virginia (1758‐62) [Figure<br />
89]represent <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> at <strong>the</strong> stage, which was to lead to new elements of<br />
design to define <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. The architecture of Mount Airy was undoubtedly<br />
inspired by <strong>the</strong> Vitruvius Scoticus 206 by William Adam (1689‐1748) and by o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
English sources, and it was probably <strong>the</strong> first Neo‐palladian <strong>building</strong> to be built in<br />
<strong>the</strong> United States. The gardens of <strong>the</strong> house follow geometric shapes, however, we<br />
find a large rectangular lawn directly linked with <strong>the</strong> architecture according to a<br />
previous experiment in <strong>the</strong> Westover plantation at Charles City County, Virginia<br />
(1730s).<br />
203 See: SQUIER, Ephraim George, and DAVIS, Edwin Hamilton, Ancient Monuments of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi<br />
Valley: Comprising <strong>the</strong> Results of Extensive Original Surveys and Explorations, Washington,<br />
Smithsonian Institution, 1848, and <strong>the</strong> essay by KENNEDY, Roger, “Jefferson and <strong>the</strong> Indians”,<br />
Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 27, No. 2/3 (Summer ‐ Autumn, 1992), The University of Chicago Press, pp.<br />
105‐121, mentioned in a previous note about Poplar Forest Plantation.<br />
204 See TEYSSOT, George (ed.), The American lawn, New York, Princeton architectural press;<br />
Montreal, Canadian Centre for Architecture, 1999<br />
205 See NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, pp. 246‐251<br />
206 The name Vitruvius Scoticus (Scottish Vitruvius) recalls <strong>the</strong> title of <strong>the</strong> previous book Vitruvius<br />
Britannicus, or <strong>the</strong> Brithish Architect (1715‐25), <strong>the</strong> major work published by Colen Campbell (1676‐<br />
1729). The Vitruvius Britannicus was a famous book containing engravings of English <strong>building</strong>s by<br />
Inigo Jones and Sir Christopher Wren, Campbell himself and o<strong>the</strong>r architects.<br />
127
By irony of fate, <strong>the</strong> first President of <strong>the</strong> United States provided <strong>the</strong> first completed<br />
model of a garden capable of highlighting <strong>the</strong> importance of <strong>the</strong> lawn. George<br />
Washington’s (1722‐1799) house at Mount Vernon, Fairfax County, Virginia [Figures<br />
91‐92] was built in 1743 by Lawrence Washington, <strong>the</strong> young George’s “half‐bro<strong>the</strong>r<br />
and guardian”. A fact little known by <strong>the</strong> great European public, George<br />
Washington’s fame as general and politician was overtaken by his fame for his ideas<br />
on gardening. His career as a surveyor in his youth is well‐known among specialists,<br />
who have examined his writings and discovered <strong>the</strong> ecological value of his notes on<br />
<strong>the</strong> subject of trees and his knowledge of tree species 207 . The mansion of Mount<br />
Vernon was situated on <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong> River Potomac and enjoyed a view<br />
overlooking <strong>the</strong> water. The lawn stretches from <strong>the</strong> opposite side towards <strong>the</strong> river<br />
and is edged by a curved line of trees. There are ornamental gardens on each side<br />
of <strong>the</strong> lawn. The Upper Garden is near <strong>the</strong> Greenhouse, <strong>the</strong> gardener’s house and<br />
slave quarters, and was used for botanical experiments and formal beds (Box<br />
Garden). The Lower Garden is on <strong>the</strong> opposite side and, as its name suggests, was<br />
connected to a lower level to act as a wide terrace resting on descending curves.<br />
The Lower Garden contained an English Kitchen Garden, which followed <strong>the</strong> typical<br />
layout of colonial gardens. Next to <strong>the</strong> Lower Garden, on an even lower level<br />
towards <strong>the</strong> river, <strong>the</strong>re was a horse paddock and a fruit garden (originally a<br />
vineyard which had been abandoned during <strong>the</strong> revolution). There were, and still<br />
are, numerous <strong>building</strong>s surrounding <strong>the</strong> mansion to support <strong>the</strong> gardens and 208 <strong>the</strong><br />
cultivations practised on <strong>the</strong> property [Figure 92]. No precise information as to any<br />
interventions by <strong>the</strong> architects to define <strong>the</strong> architectural prospect on <strong>the</strong> estate<br />
have been handed down. However, we know that Washington himself took a<br />
personal interest in <strong>the</strong> design of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s. As regards <strong>the</strong> upkeep of <strong>the</strong><br />
garden, this was usually carried out by experts. Among <strong>the</strong> many documents which<br />
have been handed down, is <strong>the</strong> account by Philip Bater, whom Washington<br />
appointed as head gardener. Every week from 1785 onwards until <strong>the</strong> end of<br />
207 See SPURR, Stephen H., “George Washington, Surveyor and Ecological Observer” published in<br />
Ecology, Vol. 32, No. 3 (Jul., 1951), pp. 544‐549<br />
208 See POGUE, Dennis J., “The Domestic Architecture of Slavery at George Washington's Mount<br />
Vernon” published in Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 37, No. 1 (Spring 2002), The University of Chicago<br />
Press, pp. 3‐22<br />
128
Washington’s life, <strong>the</strong> gardener prepared and sent a written report describing <strong>the</strong><br />
activities he had carried out himself, as well as those by his assistants. In April 1787,<br />
Washington drew up a document, which established <strong>the</strong> rights and duties of <strong>the</strong><br />
gardener as he carried out his tasks. 209 However, <strong>the</strong> de‐stabilising element in <strong>the</strong><br />
project design remained <strong>the</strong> lawn, also known as <strong>the</strong> Bowling Green [Figure 92]. The<br />
latter was bordered on one side by a large circular bed, fixed by <strong>the</strong> access road to<br />
<strong>the</strong> house, and on <strong>the</strong> opposite side it ended in a small, low, wooden gate. The gate<br />
opened on to a circular‐shaped road to enclose <strong>the</strong> gardens and lead any visitors to<br />
<strong>the</strong> entrance of <strong>the</strong> house without crossing <strong>the</strong> more private areas. Beyond <strong>the</strong><br />
gate, <strong>the</strong>re was a large meadow‐lawn, which continued to a rectangular cut in <strong>the</strong><br />
wood, as if a sort of avenue came directly from nature straight to <strong>the</strong> house. The<br />
curved shaped of <strong>the</strong> Bowling Green did not stem from <strong>the</strong> English school of<br />
gardening according to Norman T. Newton. However, we can doubtless consider it<br />
an element, which would be introduced very clearly and formally into subsequent<br />
projects to become <strong>the</strong> precise archetypal way of relating to <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. To give<br />
an example, “dear Mount Vernon”, as Washington was accustomed to call his own<br />
estate, was somehow <strong>the</strong> inspiration for <strong>landscape</strong> projects, which Thomas<br />
Jefferson created with greater skills and greater creative results. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong><br />
lawn at Mount Vernon represented, perhaps unwittingly and despite <strong>the</strong> skilfully<br />
concealed symmetry of its trapezoidal layout, <strong>the</strong> beginning of new picturesque<br />
<strong>the</strong>ories in America.<br />
The <strong>landscape</strong> of Mount Vernon is a significant testimony of <strong>the</strong> transition of<br />
colonial gardening practices to new, unexpected contributions, far beyond <strong>the</strong><br />
historic importance of <strong>the</strong> estate<br />
On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, American construction itself never slavishly followed <strong>the</strong> fashion<br />
of architectural styles, on <strong>the</strong> contrary it adapted to <strong>the</strong> multiple technological and<br />
material resources, which had been made available over time. The traditional<br />
English wooden house in America was transformed into <strong>the</strong> floorboard<br />
209 See FISHER, Robert B., The Mount Vernon Gardens, Mount Vernon, Virginia, The Mount Vernon<br />
Ladies Association of <strong>the</strong> Union, 1960 and <strong>the</strong> article by SYKES, Meredith and STEWART, John<br />
“Historic Landscape Restoration in <strong>the</strong> United States and Canada: An Annotated Source Outline”<br />
published in Bulletin of <strong>the</strong> Association for Preservation Technology, Vol. 4, No. 3/4 (1972), pp.114‐<br />
158<br />
129
construction, deriving from <strong>the</strong> balloon frame, and subsequently materials, such as<br />
stone and bricks were added to <strong>the</strong> unusual use in civil construction of iron<br />
structures. America acknowledged <strong>the</strong> stimuli from overseas and <strong>the</strong>n rapidly<br />
adopted or avoided <strong>the</strong> imported fashions. The problem of seeking a paternity for<br />
American architecture is evident in <strong>the</strong> very original layout of <strong>the</strong> campus of <strong>the</strong><br />
University of Virginia, designed by Jefferson in 1817 [Figures 93‐98]. The project did<br />
not create <strong>the</strong> layout for one single <strong>building</strong>, but ra<strong>the</strong>r it followed a layout set in a<br />
U shape [Figure 93], in which ten different shaped pavilions follow one ano<strong>the</strong>r on<br />
slightly sloping ground. A large lawn [Figure 94] lies at <strong>the</strong> heart of <strong>the</strong> academic<br />
village, bordered on its shorter side by <strong>the</strong> library, The Rotunda (1822‐1826) [Figure<br />
96] , and on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r two sides by a series of classroom pavilions connected by a<br />
sort of high level path between <strong>the</strong> colonnades [Figure 97‐98]. The classical and<br />
Neo‐Palladian style used is <strong>the</strong> least important aspect of <strong>the</strong> wonderful organisation<br />
of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. The ground floor of <strong>the</strong> various pavilions, where student<br />
dormitories were located, had a colonnade to create a space for mediation between<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s and nature, whereas at <strong>the</strong> back <strong>the</strong>re was a succession of private<br />
gardens, which placed nature in <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> design. The space in which to<br />
socialise was <strong>the</strong> lawn, whereas <strong>the</strong> gardens behind acted as elements in which to<br />
study. They all differed from one ano<strong>the</strong>r, as did <strong>the</strong> architecture of <strong>the</strong> pavilions<br />
<strong>the</strong>mselves, to reflect a hypo<strong>the</strong>tical subdivision of knowledge [Figure 95]. The<br />
same ground plan design was to be used by Wright in his project for <strong>the</strong> Como<br />
Orchard Summer Colony 210 (1909) [Figure 99], a similar, only partially completed<br />
experiment in Wright’s production. If we compare <strong>the</strong> general perspective and <strong>the</strong><br />
plan published in <strong>the</strong> catalogue of <strong>the</strong> Wasmuth edition, we can immediately<br />
210 This project consisted in a Master plan, a Club‐house and Inn, Cottages and <strong>the</strong> manager’s office.<br />
Developed for vacation of University of Chicago Professors, <strong>the</strong> project was implemented by Wright<br />
with Marion Mahoney, William Eugene Drummond and Walter Burley Griffin (husband of Mahoney<br />
and <strong>landscape</strong> architect). Indeed, Wright worked only a few months on <strong>the</strong> project because he went<br />
to Europe and <strong>the</strong> office was entrusted to <strong>the</strong> hands of Herman von Holst, expert businessman and<br />
friend of Wright, but a mediocre architect. There are some studies on this project but no researcher<br />
has pointed out <strong>the</strong> analogy with <strong>the</strong> Jefferson’s project. See WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, Ausgefuhrte<br />
Bauten un Entwurfe von Frank Lloyd Wright, Berlin, Ernst Wasmuth, 1910 (see: plate XLVI and plate<br />
XLVII); <strong>the</strong> article by HILDEBRAND, Grant and BOSWORTH, Thomas, “The Last Cottage of Wright's<br />
Como Orchards Complex”, published in <strong>the</strong> Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of Architectural Historians, Vol.<br />
41, No. 4 (Dec., 1982), pp. 325‐327; <strong>the</strong> essay by CIUCCI, Giorgio “La città nell’ideologia agraria e<br />
Frank Lloyd Wirght” published in CIUCCI, Giorgio, DAL CO, Francesco, MANIERI ELIA, Mario, TAFURI,<br />
Manfredo, La città <strong>american</strong>a dalla guerra civile al New Deal, Laterza, Bari, 1973<br />
130
discern a careful study of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and of <strong>the</strong> surrounding topography in<br />
relation to <strong>the</strong> planned cottages. The large open space at <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> layout<br />
consists of a rectangular Lawn on slightly sloping ground, edged along its long sides<br />
by ten small pavilions, as in Jefferson’s project. A club house acts as a communal<br />
<strong>building</strong> for <strong>the</strong> colony. Since it is in a central position and extends in various<br />
directions into <strong>the</strong> surrounding space, it allows <strong>the</strong> master plan to develop<br />
according to <strong>the</strong> typical organic principles of Wright’s architecture.<br />
From Jefferson’s project onwards, <strong>the</strong> lawn, as Therese O’Malley wrote, came to<br />
play <strong>the</strong> role of “convention in <strong>the</strong> visual representation of prestigious or prominent<br />
institutions, whe<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y were private, religious, academic, or cultural” 211 .<br />
Washington and Jefferson’s projects represent <strong>the</strong> most obvious archetypes in <strong>the</strong><br />
use of <strong>the</strong> lawn, but <strong>the</strong> fascination played by <strong>the</strong> use of grassy surfaces also goes<br />
back to <strong>the</strong> pastoral ideas which were becoming common in those years. Important<br />
for American <strong>landscape</strong> gardening was <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> first public green<br />
spaces, in which <strong>the</strong> designers could best experiment <strong>the</strong>ir picturesque <strong>the</strong>ories,<br />
without following <strong>the</strong> architectural fashions or <strong>the</strong> utilitarian needs imposed by<br />
agriculture. As Norman T. Newton sustains, as regards <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and Early<br />
American Backgrounds<br />
In contrast to <strong>the</strong> dearth of reliable information about <strong>the</strong> form of <strong>the</strong><br />
private gardens, examples of typical New England public open spaces<br />
can still be seen in such village greens as those of Ipswich and Lexington<br />
and in Commons like those of Boston and Cambridge. Of course <strong>the</strong>se<br />
public green spaces offered no signs of design intent, nor could <strong>the</strong>y<br />
accurately be called parks. They were originally intended as common<br />
cow‐pastures (hence <strong>the</strong> name) and for drilling <strong>the</strong> local militia, but <strong>the</strong>y<br />
provided a strong background of tradition when <strong>the</strong> time came for<br />
fostering <strong>the</strong> new notion of 212 .<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> most interesting aspect of <strong>the</strong> first green spaces designed as parks<br />
within <strong>the</strong> towns is that <strong>the</strong>y were designed specifically for public use. This purpose<br />
211 O’ MALLEY, Therese, “The Lawn in Early American Landscape and Garden Design” published in<br />
TEYSSOT, George (ed.), The American lawn, New York, Princeton Architectural press; Montreal,<br />
Canadian Centre for Architecture, 1999, p. 75<br />
212 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 249<br />
131
was to be clarified during <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century. The most wellknown<br />
example is Boston Common, dating back to 1634, 213 where in around 1830<br />
cows were forbidden to graze and during <strong>the</strong> same period various transformations<br />
were made to set <strong>the</strong> perimeter and pathways within <strong>the</strong> park spaces. Boston<br />
Common clearly illustrates <strong>the</strong> connection between pastoral aspirations and <strong>the</strong><br />
first experiences of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. In this case, <strong>the</strong> area did not merely<br />
conjure up a pastoral picture; it was actually part of it. However, <strong>the</strong> concept of<br />
public use and public ownership of <strong>the</strong> parks remained an American prerogative in<br />
<strong>the</strong> history of gardens, which merits a brief comment. The legislative measures,<br />
which ratified this trend, began in 1847 with <strong>the</strong> Rural Cemetery Act, passed by <strong>the</strong><br />
state of New York to regulate <strong>the</strong> use of burial lands, which were actually <strong>the</strong> first<br />
examples of American public parks. In 1851, <strong>the</strong> restrictions and development of<br />
public parks designed explicitly for citizens’ wellbeing and pleasure were set out by<br />
a law, known as <strong>the</strong> First Park Act, once again by <strong>the</strong> state of New York, one of <strong>the</strong><br />
most advanced as regards <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. The difference between this and<br />
<strong>the</strong> previous experiences on <strong>the</strong> old continent was basically outlined by <strong>the</strong><br />
following factors: <strong>the</strong> right of use, ownership of <strong>the</strong> park and <strong>the</strong> project<br />
commission. In Europe, large town parks were usually owned by <strong>the</strong>ir respective<br />
national monarchies and <strong>the</strong> reigning Crown would grant <strong>the</strong> population <strong>the</strong>ir use; a<br />
right occasionally restricted to public holidays or at preset times. The French case<br />
provides us with even more information to clarify ano<strong>the</strong>r aspect. The royal gardens<br />
only became public property after <strong>the</strong> revolution, but <strong>the</strong> design and development<br />
of <strong>the</strong> parks had undisputedly been created under <strong>the</strong> aegis of <strong>the</strong> King. Although it<br />
differed from <strong>the</strong> point of view of “public right”, <strong>the</strong> American trend found similar,<br />
contemporary experiences only in England. The homeland of <strong>landscape</strong> projects<br />
only conceived <strong>the</strong> first park with public ownership, purposes and project design in<br />
1847, despite its long history of English gardening, 214 when <strong>the</strong> opening of<br />
213 This date is related only to <strong>the</strong> transfer of land ownership from private to <strong>the</strong> Municipality of<br />
Boston<br />
214 Birkenhead Park is usually considered <strong>the</strong> first public Park because <strong>the</strong> Borough of Birkenhead was<br />
<strong>the</strong> first to ask <strong>the</strong> UK Parliament for permission to use public funds to build a town park. There were<br />
some previous, similar projects: Victoria Park, London (1842‐46), Peel Park, Salford (1846), Derby<br />
Arboretum (1840),<br />
132
Birkenhead Park was celebrated in Birkenhead, a suburb of Liverpool. Designed by<br />
Joseph Paxton (1803‐1865), this park was so important it could not pass unnoticed<br />
in <strong>the</strong> New World, where <strong>landscape</strong> gardening was engaging with <strong>the</strong> numerous<br />
stimuli and new requirements of metropolitan life. In his book Walks and Talks of<br />
an American Farmer in England (1852), Frederick Law Olmsted was deeply struck by<br />
<strong>the</strong> innovative aspects of <strong>the</strong> park designed by Paxton:<br />
The baker had begged of us not to leave Birkenhead without seeing <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
new park, and at his suggestion we left our knapsacks with him, and<br />
proceeded to it. […]The gateway, which is about a mile and a half from<br />
<strong>the</strong> ferry, and quite back of <strong>the</strong> town, is a great, massive block of<br />
handsome Ionic architecture, standing alone, and unsupported by<br />
anything else in <strong>the</strong> vicinity, and looking, as I think, heavy and awkward.<br />
There is a sort of grandeur about it that <strong>the</strong> English are fond of, but<br />
which, when it is entirely separate from all o<strong>the</strong>r architectural<br />
constructions, always strikes me unpleasantly. […]There is a large<br />
archway for carriages, and two smaller ones for those on foot, and, on<br />
ei<strong>the</strong>r side, and over <strong>the</strong>se, are rooms, which probably serve as<br />
inconvenient lodges for <strong>the</strong> labourers. No porter appears, and <strong>the</strong> gates<br />
are freely open to <strong>the</strong> public. Walking a short distance up an avenue, we<br />
passed through ano<strong>the</strong>r light iron gate into a thick, luxuriant, and<br />
diversified garden. Five minutes of admiration, and a few more spent in<br />
studying <strong>the</strong> manner in which art had been employed to obtain from<br />
nature so much beauty, and I was ready to admit that in democratic<br />
America <strong>the</strong>re was nothing to be thought of as comparable with this<br />
People's Garden. Indeed, gardening, had here reached a perfection that I<br />
had never before dreamed of. I cannot undertake to describe <strong>the</strong> effect<br />
of so much taste and skill as had evidently been employed; I will only tell<br />
you, that we passed by winding paths, over acres and acres, with a<br />
constant varying surface, where on all sides were growing every variety<br />
of shrubs and flowers, with more than natural grace, all set in borders of<br />
greenest, closest turf, and all kept with most consummate neatness 215 .<br />
He dedicated several pages to describing this project. 216 Some stratagems from <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> of Birkenhead Park can be found in <strong>the</strong> design of Central Park in New<br />
York (1857).<br />
215 OLMSTED, Frederick Law, Walks and Talks of an American Farmer in England, Vol. I, New York,<br />
George P. Putnam, 1852, p. 78‐79<br />
216 According to Olmsted this project “placed in <strong>the</strong> hands of Mr. Paxton, in June, 1844, by whom it<br />
was laid out in its present form by June of <strong>the</strong> following year” (in OLMSTED, Frederick Law, Walks<br />
and Talks of an American Farmer in England, Vol. I, New York, George P. Putnam, 1852. p. 80),<br />
however contemporary sources established it was opened on 5 April 1847.<br />
133
Olmsted was particularly impressed by <strong>the</strong> use of large, grassy surfaces surrounded<br />
by thick vegetation. The purpose of such a choice of project design was to increase<br />
<strong>the</strong> scenic effect of <strong>the</strong> appearance of a vast open space intended as a playground,<br />
which could only be reached by passing through a little wood. Olmsted also<br />
commented extremely positively on o<strong>the</strong>r projects, believing that “probably <strong>the</strong>re is<br />
no object of art that Americans of cultivated taste generally more long to see in<br />
Europe, than an English park” 217 . Never<strong>the</strong>less, despite Olmsted’s report, <strong>the</strong>re was<br />
no lack of experiments in <strong>landscape</strong> gardening in America. In just a few decades,<br />
attention moved from rural parks to <strong>the</strong> interpretation of rural cemeteries, that is to<br />
say cemeteries which were conceived as proper public spaces, which could be used<br />
thanks to specifically designed pathways through <strong>the</strong> park. Although Olmsted<br />
showed no enthusiasm for rural cemeteries and did not mention <strong>the</strong> phenomenon<br />
in his comparisons to enhance <strong>the</strong> English experiments, contemporary historians of<br />
<strong>the</strong> garden agreed that <strong>the</strong> movement to promote rural cemeteries 218 was of<br />
extreme interest in America. Norman T. Foster, in particular, believed <strong>the</strong> rural<br />
cemetery to be directly connected to <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening in<br />
urban parks: “It should not be overlooked that a completely American invention,<br />
<strong>the</strong> , may possibly have influenced public interest in park‐like<br />
scenery” 219 . The first of such cemeteries was Mount Auburn, Cambridge,<br />
Massachusetts (1831) [Figure 100], designed by Henry Alexander Scammel<br />
Dearborn (1783‐1851) with Jacob Bigelow (1787‐1879) and Alexander Wadsworth<br />
(1790‐1851). The role of Bigelow 220 was, however, decisive as regards <strong>the</strong> planning<br />
in 1825. As he was a doctor, he believed it necessary to get rid of <strong>the</strong> traditional<br />
practice of burial next to urban churches. He was supported in his <strong>the</strong>ory by<br />
217 Ibid., p. 133<br />
218 See BENDER, Thomas, “The "Rural" Cemetery Movement: Urban Travail and <strong>the</strong> Appeal of<br />
Nature”, Published in The New England Quarterly, Vol. 47, No. 2 (Jun., 1974), pp. 196‐211<br />
219 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 268; as regards<br />
<strong>the</strong> history of <strong>the</strong> cemetery in 19th century in Europe, see <strong>the</strong> article by CURL, James Stevens, “The<br />
Architecture and Planning of <strong>the</strong> Nineteenth‐Century Cemetery”, Garden History, Vol. 3, No. 3<br />
(Summer, 1975), pp. 13‐41<br />
220 Jacob Bigelow (1787‐1879) is <strong>the</strong> author of <strong>the</strong> one of first American medical‐botanical book:<br />
American medical botany, being a collection of <strong>the</strong> native medicinal plants of <strong>the</strong> United States,<br />
containing <strong>the</strong>ir botanical history and chemical analysis, and properties and uses in medicine, diet<br />
and <strong>the</strong> arts, with coloured engravings, Boston, Cummings and Hillard, 1817<br />
134
Dearborn who arranged <strong>the</strong> purchase of 70 acres of land, on which to create <strong>the</strong><br />
cemetery, thanks to <strong>the</strong> Massachusetts Horticultural Society, of which he was <strong>the</strong><br />
president.<br />
The report drawn up by <strong>the</strong> Massachusetts Horticultural Society in October 1831<br />
explained in detail <strong>the</strong> meaning of death and <strong>the</strong> historic and ritual significance of<br />
cemeteries (extolling a series of ancient and contemporary examples, such as <strong>the</strong><br />
contemporary project of <strong>the</strong> cemetery Père‐la‐Chaise in Paris) and gave reasons for<br />
<strong>the</strong> choice of area and <strong>the</strong> operations to be carried out in <strong>the</strong>se words:<br />
The design is, to teach <strong>the</strong> community to pay more respect to <strong>the</strong> dead.<br />
[…] We cannot but hope that <strong>the</strong> cemetery about to be established will<br />
put our cities and villages to shame, and spread a better taste and<br />
feeling in this respect throughout <strong>the</strong> whole country. The place selected<br />
for <strong>the</strong> cemetery is Mount Auburn, in Cambridge, about three miles<br />
from Boston, and easily approached ei<strong>the</strong>r by <strong>the</strong> road or <strong>the</strong> river which<br />
washes its borders. It affords every variety of soil and elevation, which<br />
trees or flowers would require, with streams and meadows, from which<br />
ponds may be made for plants which love <strong>the</strong> water. The plants of every<br />
climate may find <strong>the</strong>re a suitable home. It might be thought that it<br />
would require many years to cover it whit verdure; but Nature has<br />
anticipated this objection; it being already cloche with trees and shrubs<br />
of almost all description, which grow in this part of <strong>the</strong> country. The<br />
most striking part of this tract is a conical hill of considerable height,<br />
which commands an extensive and beautiful prospect […] There is<br />
something unpleasant to many, in <strong>the</strong> idea of cultivating <strong>the</strong> place of<br />
death. This may be owing to <strong>the</strong> old prejudice, which regards nature and<br />
arts as opposed to each o<strong>the</strong>r. Nature, under all circumstances, was<br />
meant to be improved by human care; it is unnatural to leave it to itself;<br />
and <strong>the</strong> traces of art are never unwelcome, except when it defeats <strong>the</strong><br />
purposes and refuses to follow <strong>the</strong> suggestions of nature 221 .<br />
Therefore, <strong>the</strong> gardens were prepared using existing trees and planting new tree<br />
species, whereas paths were made by using architectural furniture and small<br />
monuments. Mount Auburn soon became an attraction for visitors, tourists and<br />
families, who took advantage of <strong>the</strong> peace offered by <strong>the</strong> gardens to spend quiet<br />
moments far from <strong>the</strong> confusion of <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
221 “Mount Auburn Cemetery, Report of Massachusetts Horticultural Society upon <strong>the</strong> Establishment<br />
of an Experimental Garden and Rural Cemetery” The North American Review, University of Nor<strong>the</strong>rn<br />
Iowa, Vol. 33, No. 73 (Oct., 1831), pp. 397‐406<br />
135
The search for an ancient <strong>landscape</strong> for <strong>the</strong> dead, as described by Virgil and o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
classical authors, became an imaginary <strong>landscape</strong>, which recalled <strong>the</strong> picturesque<br />
garden and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>s created by European and American artists.<br />
Following <strong>the</strong> success of Mount Auburn, numerous o<strong>the</strong>r rural cemeteries<br />
developed, such as Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadelphia (1836) [Figure 103‐104],<br />
Mount Hope Cemetery, Rochester, New York (1838), Greenwood Cemetery,<br />
Brooklyn (1838) [Figure 101], Green Mount Cemetery, Baltimore, Maryland (1838),<br />
Allegheny Cemetery, Pittsburgh (1844), and Albany Rural Cemetery, Menands, New<br />
York (1844). In 1849 <strong>the</strong> cemetery of Bellefontaine was opened in St. Louis, 222 <strong>the</strong><br />
first rural cemetery west of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi [Figure 102]. The 138 acres were<br />
designed by Almerin Hotchkiss (1816‐1903), <strong>landscape</strong> designer and creator of <strong>the</strong><br />
well‐known project for Greenwood Cemetery, and interest was highlighted by <strong>the</strong><br />
opinion expressed by Andrew Jackson a few years after its opening. Greenwood<br />
Cemetery had put Hotchkiss’ <strong>landscape</strong> gardening skills to <strong>the</strong> test 223 and had<br />
proved to be “grand, dignified, and park‐like” 224 . Despite <strong>the</strong> outbreak of a cholera<br />
epidemic in St. Louis, which required a rapid solution to <strong>the</strong> problem (approximately<br />
100 funerals a day were held in June 1849), <strong>the</strong> authorities in charge of cemetery<br />
affairs decided not to make provisional choices, as <strong>the</strong>y wanted to exploit an area,<br />
which could be used for future landscaping purposes. Following Hotchkiss’<br />
nomination as superintendent of <strong>the</strong> cemetery, <strong>the</strong> project design and construction<br />
of curved, undulating pathways suited to <strong>the</strong> undulating topography were begun.<br />
Hotchkiss remained as cemetery superintendent for <strong>the</strong> next 46 years, taking care<br />
of a fur<strong>the</strong>r development of approximately 200 acres, and paying close attention to<br />
<strong>the</strong> layout of precise, scenic areas. After a few years, <strong>the</strong> construction of funeral<br />
222 See DARNALL, Margareta J., “The American Cemetery as Picturesque Landscape: Bellefontaine<br />
Cemetery, St. Louis” Winterthur Portfolio, The University of Chicago Press, Vol. 18, No. 4 (Winter,<br />
1983), pp. 249‐269<br />
223 David Bates Douglass (1790‐1849), engineer and cemetery designer drafted <strong>the</strong> original expansion<br />
design, subsequently developed by Hotchkiss as superintendent. Hotchkiss worked with Zebedee<br />
Cook on <strong>the</strong> definitive plan of <strong>the</strong> cemetery.<br />
224 DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, cit. in NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of<br />
Landscape Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press,<br />
1971, p. 268<br />
136
monuments 225 created a picturesque atmosphere, which conjured up <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong><br />
scenarios portrayed by well‐known American artists from <strong>the</strong> Hudson River School,<br />
such as Thomas Cole (1801‐1848) and Frederic Church (1826‐1900). The cemetery<br />
represented a moment of reflection, in which man showed his respect for nature<br />
and, at <strong>the</strong> same time, his thoughts of death and passion for <strong>the</strong> ancient world. The<br />
reproduction of tombs in past styles (especially Greek, Roman and Egyptian) set in a<br />
seemingly natural, but skilfully designed scenario, offered an opportunity to fulfil<br />
<strong>the</strong> imaginary scenes of <strong>the</strong> most famous <strong>landscape</strong> artists, even though on a<br />
reduced scale.<br />
In this sense, <strong>the</strong> movement of public opinion linked to American rural cemeteries<br />
appeared as something really innovative, of which Europe had no comparable<br />
examples of intentions or needs, with <strong>the</strong> partial exception of England. As Thomas<br />
Bender observed, <strong>the</strong> American “rural cemetery” not only denoted <strong>the</strong> idea of a<br />
cemetery situated outside <strong>the</strong> town, according to <strong>the</strong> romantic conventions of<br />
English <strong>landscape</strong> gardening, but it also expressed an ideological background “in <strong>the</strong><br />
emerging urban culture” 226 . In The Making of Urban America, John William Reps<br />
showed his surprise at <strong>the</strong> recreational purpose <strong>the</strong> first rural cemeteries were used<br />
for, but in both <strong>the</strong> culture of that period and often in current practice, “a visit to<br />
<strong>the</strong> local cemetery was considered de rigueur for <strong>the</strong> tourist, and <strong>the</strong> popular press<br />
carried numerous articles on <strong>the</strong>se romantic burial grounds” 227 . Such ideas were not<br />
applied to rural cemeteries at a later date, but ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>y began at <strong>the</strong> same time:<br />
“a month after <strong>the</strong> consecration of Mount Auburn, Henry Bellows, in his oration at<br />
<strong>the</strong> Harvard Exhibition on October 18, 1831, declared that rural cemeteries . Writing in 1849, Andrew Jackson Downing<br />
asserted that thirty thousand persons visited Mount Auburn in a single season.” 228<br />
The trend, which encouraged <strong>the</strong> construction of new rural cemeteries in <strong>the</strong><br />
225 Many monuments were built in <strong>the</strong> Bellefontaine Cemetery of St. Louis and notables figures were<br />
buried <strong>the</strong>re: William Clark, explorer of <strong>the</strong> Louisiana Territory, Brig. Gen. Richard B. Manson, first<br />
American governor of California, Thomas Hart Benton, politician, Sara Teasdale, poet. Louis Sullivan’s<br />
Wainwright Tomb (1892) is also to be found here.<br />
226 BENDER, Thomas, “The "Rural" Cemetery Movement: Urban Travail and <strong>the</strong> Appeal of Nature”,<br />
The New England Quarterly, Vol. 47, No. 2 (Jun., 1974), pp. 196‐211, p. 196<br />
227 Ibid.<br />
228 Ibid., cit. p. 197<br />
137
country, enabled Hotchkiss to become quite famous in <strong>the</strong>ir design and in <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardening. Around 1850, he was commissioned to design <strong>the</strong> Chippianock Cemetery<br />
at Rock Island, Illinois, on <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong> Mississippi, in a place of Indian origin,<br />
which recalled its original use as a burial ground. In 1856, he committed himself to<br />
preparing <strong>the</strong> project for Lake Forest, a new outlying settlement for <strong>the</strong> city of<br />
Chicago (27 miles from <strong>the</strong> town centre). This project was <strong>the</strong> link between <strong>the</strong><br />
experience of <strong>the</strong> rural cemeteries and <strong>the</strong> new demands of town planning and<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> gardening. Lake Forest anticipated on a grand scale some of <strong>the</strong> concepts<br />
later used by Olmsted and Vaux to design Riverside (1869) [Figure 54]. The project<br />
envisaged a well‐defined, residential and commercial area, a university campus<br />
placed in <strong>the</strong> centre and a rural cemetery. This all stretched over approximately<br />
1,200 acres on <strong>the</strong> shores of Lake Michigan, along an area, through which a railroad<br />
line passed. The majority of <strong>the</strong> project was completed, despite <strong>the</strong> economic crisis<br />
of 1857, and subsequently o<strong>the</strong>r project designers, such as Adler, Olmsted, Wright<br />
designed projects for Lake Forest, while William Le Baron Jenney (1832‐1907) and<br />
Ossian Cole Simonds (1855‐1931) tried <strong>the</strong>ir hand at developing <strong>the</strong> cemetery<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, which was enlarged and redesigned by <strong>the</strong> same people in two stages in<br />
1882 and 1901, respectively.<br />
The town of Lowell, Massachusetts[Figure 67], <strong>the</strong> “American Manchester” founded<br />
a few years earlier, was also given a rural cemetery. Thomas Bender made a<br />
perceptive observation that, in <strong>the</strong> early decades of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, <strong>the</strong><br />
relationship between nature and industry of <strong>the</strong> new‐born, American nation eluded<br />
people into thinking Lowell was a sort of perfect middle <strong>landscape</strong>. The clean aspect<br />
of <strong>the</strong> town and its contact with <strong>the</strong> natural element of water had known how to<br />
mediate between nature’s resources and <strong>the</strong> new industrial needs:<br />
When Lowell was founded in 1821, <strong>the</strong> dominant concept of <strong>the</strong><br />
American <strong>landscape</strong> was that of "an immense wilderness [turned] into a<br />
fruitful field. Art and Nature were blended to define <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>.<br />
Americans assumed that something artificial could be "introduced into<br />
<strong>the</strong> natural order [showing] that man has interposed in some way to<br />
improve <strong>the</strong> pro‐ cesses of nature." However, an extreme departure<br />
from nature could not be accommodated within this ideology without<br />
up‐ setting <strong>the</strong> balance by shifting from <strong>the</strong> "cultivated" and <strong>the</strong> good, to<br />
<strong>the</strong> "dissipated and corrupt." Lowell and o<strong>the</strong>r early factory towns were<br />
138
merged within this framework through <strong>the</strong> use of a factory‐in‐<strong>the</strong>‐forest<br />
image. In 1825, <strong>the</strong> editor of <strong>the</strong> Essex Gazette emphasized <strong>the</strong> harmony<br />
between <strong>the</strong> factories and <strong>the</strong> natural <strong>landscape</strong> at Lowell. "It seemed,"<br />
he wrote, "to be a song of triumph and exultation at <strong>the</strong> successful<br />
union of nature with <strong>the</strong> art of man, in order to make her contribute to<br />
<strong>the</strong> wants and happiness of <strong>the</strong> human family." After two decades of<br />
urban growth, however, it appeared that instead of blending with<br />
nature, <strong>the</strong> city was about to overwhelm it. In 1841, a mill‐girl poet<br />
wrote: "Who hath not sought some sylvan spot/ where art, <strong>the</strong> spoiler,<br />
ventures not." 229<br />
Cracks in <strong>the</strong> system and in <strong>the</strong> speculative layout of <strong>the</strong> town would only become<br />
visible at a later stage. Meanwhile, in <strong>the</strong> 1840s, <strong>the</strong> idea of a Lowell capable of<br />
mediating between <strong>the</strong> industrial and <strong>the</strong> natural world had finally declined by<br />
<strong>the</strong>n, and <strong>the</strong> ideas for a cemetery park rapidly became popular in <strong>the</strong> most<br />
industrialised and most technologically advanced town of America. In 1841,<br />
celebrations were held for <strong>the</strong> opening of <strong>the</strong> cemetery/park near <strong>the</strong> River<br />
Concord, built according to a layout of romantic inspiration prepared by George P.<br />
Worcester. The project envisaged roads and paths winding among existing oak trees<br />
and newly planted flowers and trees. The benchmark was once again Mount<br />
Auburn cemetery [Figure 100]and <strong>the</strong> Père‐Lachaise cemetery, a garden later used<br />
only for burials.<br />
All <strong>the</strong>se experiences connected to <strong>the</strong> so‐called rural cemeteries movement are<br />
also indirectly linked to <strong>the</strong> transcendentalist culture. It is especially important to<br />
note how Ralph Waldo Emerson, in those very same decades, turned his attention<br />
to <strong>the</strong> world of nature, in <strong>the</strong> belief that man could experience <strong>the</strong> truth directly<br />
from nature. He recognised Nature as a useful, spiritual essence for man, both from<br />
a philosophical and practical point of view. To confirm this, Emerson spoke in 1838<br />
to <strong>the</strong> final year students of <strong>the</strong> Faculty of Theology of Cambridge (The Divinity<br />
School Address delivered before <strong>the</strong> Senior Class in Divinity College),<br />
a short<br />
distance from Mount Auburn, and expressed a radiant analogy between <strong>the</strong> “breath<br />
of life” and nature. Therefore, a religious meaning of American Protestant origin can<br />
also be identified in <strong>the</strong> way more importance is given to <strong>the</strong> elements in <strong>the</strong><br />
cemetery, which are connected to <strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> visitors ra<strong>the</strong>r than to memories of<br />
<strong>the</strong> dead.<br />
229 Ibid., pp.199‐200<br />
139
The prospects and developments of <strong>the</strong> rural cemetery were also carefully studied<br />
in England by John Claudius Loudon (1783‐1843), one of <strong>the</strong> greatest <strong>landscape</strong><br />
designers of <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century and disseminator of <strong>the</strong> ideas of<br />
Capability Brown. Loudon was, above all, a prolific author of publications on<br />
horticulture, gardening, agriculture and botany, in which he developed a precise<br />
idea of how to treat <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. He was probably one of <strong>the</strong> first to combine <strong>the</strong><br />
architectural problem with gardening problems, and understood how <strong>the</strong> project<br />
design of a <strong>landscape</strong> required multiple aspects to be taken into careful<br />
consideration. For this purpose, in 1833 he was to write The Encyclopedia of<br />
Cottage, Farm and Villa Architecture, a collection of over 1,400 pages, containing<br />
approximately two hundred illustrations of rural architecture and <strong>the</strong> descriptions<br />
of numerous styles to be used depending on <strong>the</strong> situation. He intended his works to<br />
illustrate <strong>the</strong> advantages of having a method of project design, which differed from<br />
<strong>the</strong> geometric models and which was an evolution of <strong>the</strong> picturesque design: “[…] is<br />
<strong>the</strong> gardenesque style, characterised by distinctness in <strong>the</strong> separate parts when<br />
closely examined, but, when viewed as a whole, governed by <strong>the</strong> same general<br />
principles of composition as <strong>the</strong> picturesque style, <strong>the</strong> parts, though not blended,<br />
being yet connected” 230 . The most rapid vehicle for his ideas was <strong>the</strong> publication of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Gardener’s Magazine and register of rural and domestic improvement, printed<br />
in London from <strong>the</strong> beginning of 1826 until his death. The first issues discussed<br />
various topics, from a horticultural point of view to give practical advice for “[…]<br />
improving <strong>the</strong> knowledge of gardeners” 231 understood “[…] as an art of design and<br />
taste” 232 . These were publications known and read by those in <strong>the</strong> trade on both<br />
sides of <strong>the</strong> ocean. From his very first writings, Loudon bore in mind <strong>the</strong> originality<br />
of <strong>the</strong> social role of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> architect. As time<br />
passed, he not only contained his use of <strong>the</strong>se terms, but he also defined <strong>the</strong><br />
creative contribution of <strong>the</strong> discipline and <strong>the</strong> purposes of entertainment of <strong>the</strong><br />
park:<br />
230 LOUDON, John Claudius, The Gardener’s Magazine and register of rural and domestic<br />
improvement, London, Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1843, p. 166<br />
231 Ibid., p. 3<br />
232 Ibid., p. 5<br />
140
The modern art of laying out grounds is, indeed, considered by many as<br />
an anomalous business, practised by a set of empirics without principles;<br />
but <strong>the</strong> truth is […] [that, editor’s note] its principles as an art of<br />
imagination are those of painting, and as an art contributing to <strong>the</strong><br />
convenience and comfort of man, it is directed by those of fitness and<br />
utility. The principles of architecture are precisely <strong>the</strong> same; indeed <strong>the</strong><br />
principles of composition are <strong>the</strong> same in all <strong>the</strong> arts of taste; and<br />
whe<strong>the</strong>r an artist compose a poem, a piece of music, a <strong>building</strong>, a<br />
painted or a real <strong>landscape</strong>, he is alike guided by unity of expression as<br />
to <strong>the</strong> whole or general effect, and by <strong>the</strong> connection and co‐operation<br />
of <strong>the</strong> component parts 233 .<br />
In 1843, he also showed an interest in <strong>the</strong> problem of <strong>the</strong> cemeteries and tried his<br />
hand at designing three burial sites: Bath Abbey Cemetery, Histon Road Cemetery,<br />
and Southampton Cemetery. Until <strong>the</strong>n, <strong>the</strong>re were no texts, which had dealt with<br />
<strong>the</strong> topic in detail, giving examples and specific thoughts. The fashion and<br />
experiments, which had developed in <strong>the</strong> United States, imposed a <strong>the</strong>oretical<br />
analysis of <strong>the</strong> topic within <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> project. 234 In his The Gardener’s<br />
Magazine, Loudon develops a chapter entitled The principles of Landscape‐<br />
Gardening and Landscape‐Architecture applied to <strong>the</strong> Laying out of Public<br />
Cemeteries and <strong>the</strong> Improvement of Churchyards, in which he systematically faces a<br />
series of problems: <strong>the</strong> project, planting, architecture, general jobs to be carried<br />
out, maintenance work to be predicted [Figure 105]. He also included information<br />
concerning public health, a list of suitable trees, shrubs and herbaceous plants for<br />
cemeteries, and naturally a series of illustrative drawings. When he specified <strong>the</strong><br />
purposes of <strong>the</strong> cemetery, he excluded <strong>the</strong> recreational use of <strong>the</strong> garden cemetery,<br />
as was customary in America: “The main object of a burial‐ground is, <strong>the</strong> disposal of<br />
<strong>the</strong> remains of <strong>the</strong> dead in such a manner as that <strong>the</strong>ir decomposition, and return<br />
to <strong>the</strong> earth from which <strong>the</strong>y sprung, shall not prove injurious to <strong>the</strong> living; ei<strong>the</strong>r by<br />
affecting <strong>the</strong>ir health, or shocking <strong>the</strong>ir feelings, opinions, or prejudices. A<br />
secondary object is, or ought to be, <strong>the</strong> improvement of <strong>the</strong> moral sentiments and<br />
general taste of all classes, and more especially of <strong>the</strong> great masses of society” 235 .<br />
233 Ibid., p. 7<br />
234 See CURL, James Stevens, “John Claudius Loudon and <strong>the</strong> Garden Cemetery Movement”, Garden<br />
History, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Autumn, 1983), pp. 133‐156<br />
235 LOUDON, John Claudius, The Gardener’s Magazine and register of rural and domestic<br />
improvement, London, Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1843, p. 93<br />
141
Despite <strong>the</strong> fact that Loudon knew of <strong>the</strong> American experiences thanks to his<br />
correspondents or reports sent by readers of his magazine, 236 he concentrated on<br />
what he believed to be <strong>the</strong> core of a cemetery project: “Churchyards and<br />
cemeteries are scenes not only calculated to improve <strong>the</strong> morals and <strong>the</strong> taste, and<br />
by <strong>the</strong>ir botanical riches to cultivate <strong>the</strong> intellect, but <strong>the</strong>y serve as historical<br />
records” 237 . This conviction had nothing especially innovative in <strong>the</strong> description of<br />
<strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> English garden cemetery. The publication of <strong>the</strong> ground plans<br />
attached to Loudon’s essay showed a self‐censored approach compared to <strong>the</strong><br />
236 In <strong>the</strong> 1841 number of The Gardner’s Magazine <strong>the</strong>re is a report by Alexander Jackson Downing<br />
about “Additional Notes on <strong>the</strong> Progress of Gardening in <strong>the</strong> United States”, pp.146‐147:<br />
“In my notes to you on <strong>the</strong> progress of gardening in <strong>the</strong> United States (Vol. for 1840, p. 642.), I<br />
accidentally omitted any allusion to <strong>the</strong> taste for cemeteries or rural burial‐grounds which has lately<br />
sprung up among us. Some of <strong>the</strong>se are exceedingly beautiful, displaying much of <strong>the</strong> beauty of<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> gardening in <strong>the</strong> natural style. Mount Auburn, near Boston, is one of <strong>the</strong> finest examples,<br />
and has been pronounced by good judges, superior in many respects to <strong>the</strong> celebrated Père la<br />
Chaise. The area embraced is about seventy acres, and its characteristic beauty consists in <strong>the</strong> very<br />
great natural variety of <strong>the</strong> surface, clo<strong>the</strong>d with a profusion of fine trees of indigenous growth.<br />
Open smooth glades are followed by shady and secluded dingles, and <strong>the</strong>se by wild and picturesque<br />
hills, all so rapidly presenting <strong>the</strong>mselves in succession, and so ingeniously displayed by winding and<br />
irregular carriage roads and footpaths, that <strong>the</strong> whole appears two or three times as large as it really<br />
is. There are a great number of elegant monuments in marble and granite, in <strong>the</strong> form of columns,<br />
obelisks, sarcophagi, &c., some of <strong>the</strong>m highly elegant, and a few imported from Italy at very large<br />
cost. Portions of <strong>the</strong> place exhibit all <strong>the</strong> floral beauty of highly kept pleasure‐grounds, while o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
parts have all <strong>the</strong> wildness of rude nature. It is a favourite resort of <strong>the</strong> citizens of Boston, and one<br />
can hardly conceive a lovelier place of repose for <strong>the</strong> dead. In <strong>the</strong> neighbourhood of New York, <strong>the</strong><br />
Greenwood Cemetery lately laid out for <strong>the</strong> purpose bids fair to eclipse Mount Auburn. In size it is<br />
much larger, and if possible exceeds it in <strong>the</strong> diversity of surface, and especially in <strong>the</strong> grandeur of<br />
<strong>the</strong> views. Every advantage has been taken of <strong>the</strong> undulation of surface, and <strong>the</strong> fine groups, masses,<br />
and thickets of trees, in arranging <strong>the</strong> walks; and <strong>the</strong>re can be no doubt, when this cemetery is<br />
completed, it will be one of <strong>the</strong> most unique in <strong>the</strong> world. Laurel Hill, about two miles from <strong>the</strong> city,<br />
is <strong>the</strong> boast of <strong>the</strong> Philadelphians. Instead of having been formed upon a picturesque natural surface,<br />
covered with natural forest trees, this cemetery was formerly an elegant country residence,<br />
bordering on <strong>the</strong> Schuylkill River, and displaying a kind of garden‐like beauty in <strong>the</strong> trees, shrubs, &c.<br />
Since <strong>the</strong> grounds have been applied to <strong>the</strong> purpose of burial, a pretty entrance gate and cottage for<br />
<strong>the</strong> superintendant, and also a neat Gothic chapel, have been built. There are innumerable<br />
monuments tastefully disposed in various parts of <strong>the</strong> place, and many of <strong>the</strong> small enclosures<br />
surrounding <strong>the</strong>se are filled with <strong>the</strong> most beautiful flowering shrubs and plants. The variety of China<br />
and Noisette roses in particular is very great; and <strong>the</strong>se, as well as many rare exotics, are trained and<br />
kept with <strong>the</strong> greatest care. Beside <strong>the</strong>se three principal cemeteries, <strong>the</strong>re are at least a dozen<br />
o<strong>the</strong>rs in progress in <strong>the</strong> neighbourhood of o<strong>the</strong>r cities. It is remarkable that <strong>the</strong>se cemeteries are<br />
<strong>the</strong> first really elegant public gardens or promenades formed in this country. In point of design,<br />
keeping, and in so far as respects <strong>the</strong> variety of rare flowering shrubs and plants introduced, <strong>the</strong>y are<br />
much superior to <strong>the</strong> majority of country residences here, and may <strong>the</strong>refore be considered as likely<br />
to affect in a very considerable degree <strong>the</strong> general taste for laying out and embellishing grounds.<br />
Hundreds of <strong>the</strong> citizens who ramble through <strong>the</strong>m form perhaps <strong>the</strong>ir first acquaintance with many<br />
species of plants <strong>the</strong>re, and apply <strong>the</strong> taste thus acquired to <strong>the</strong> improvement of <strong>the</strong>ir own gardens.<br />
Botanic Garden and Nurseries, Newburgh, near New York, Nov. 29. 1840”.<br />
237 LOUDON, John Claudius, The Gardener’s Magazine and register of rural and domestic<br />
improvement, London, Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1843, p. 105<br />
142
luxuriant urban or country house parks [Figure 105]. Basically, Loudon proposed<br />
cemeteries which confirmed American progress in landscaping for this particular<br />
area. However, many events and editorial initiatives, which encouraged garden<br />
culture, took place during <strong>the</strong> years prior to <strong>the</strong> rural cemetery movement.<br />
After <strong>the</strong> appearance in America of <strong>the</strong> book by McMahon, one of <strong>the</strong> most popular<br />
publications on gardens was The Practical American Gardener, 238 of an “Old<br />
Gardener”, published in 1819, whereas <strong>the</strong> New England Farmer, published in<br />
Boston by Thomas Green Fessenden (1771‐1837) in 1822, was one of <strong>the</strong> first<br />
magazines to dedicate a great deal of space to horticultural problems. This<br />
magazine later became a tool linked to <strong>the</strong> organisation of associations, which had<br />
gardening as its minimum common denominator.<br />
Beginning with <strong>the</strong> Agricultural Museum (1810), magazines in <strong>the</strong> sector became<br />
increasingly numerous. 239 In 1819, John S. Skinner, a famous lawyer and editor from<br />
Baltimore, began to print <strong>the</strong> American Farmer, which he only gave up after ten<br />
successful years of sales to dedicate himself to <strong>the</strong> Journal of Agriculture (1845‐48).<br />
In Boston in 1835, J.E. Teschmacher published <strong>the</strong> Horticultural Register and<br />
Gardener’s Magazine, with coloured illustrations. In <strong>the</strong> same year, Fessenden<br />
began a work devoted to <strong>the</strong> popular sericulture, entitled Fessenden’s Silk Manual<br />
and Practical Farmer. These publications were conceived in <strong>the</strong> same way as today’s<br />
specialist magazines, full of advertising publishing nurseries, associations and stores<br />
specialised in <strong>the</strong> sale of agricultural tools. They offered informative sections,<br />
<strong>the</strong>oretical essays and space for reviews by publishing companies in <strong>the</strong> sector.<br />
In New England, Boston was <strong>the</strong> town which, at <strong>the</strong> time, was to become <strong>the</strong><br />
benchmark for cultural initiatives linked to agricultural practices and to <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>. In 1829, <strong>the</strong> Boston Horticultural Society, later to become <strong>the</strong><br />
Massachusetts Horticultural Society, was founded on <strong>the</strong> model of homonymous<br />
English associations. As we have already seen, its lands provided <strong>the</strong> necessary<br />
space to develop and manage Mount Auburn Cemetery, for which <strong>the</strong> association<br />
had been <strong>the</strong> prime mover.<br />
238 OLD, Gardener, The Practical American Gardener, Baltimore, Fielding Lucas Jr., 1819<br />
239 See MOTT, Frank Lu<strong>the</strong>r, A History of American Magazines: 1741‐1850, Harvard University Press,<br />
1930<br />
143
At <strong>the</strong> same time, studies attempted to improve agricultural practices, imperative<br />
premises, in Europe as in America, for a true development of gardening. In 1828,<br />
William Prince (1766‐1842) published a Treatise on Horticulture and in 1838 Robert<br />
Manning (1784‐1842) his Book of Fruits, being a descriptive catalogue of <strong>the</strong> most<br />
valuable varieties of <strong>the</strong> pear, apple, peach, plum, and cherry for New England<br />
culture. From 1830‐1840, publications and articles regarding vine growing began to<br />
appear. This had already been widely practised on both <strong>the</strong> Atlantic and <strong>the</strong> Pacific<br />
coast in <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century. In fact, <strong>the</strong> vineyards offered handsome profits.<br />
In 1846, Nicholas Longworth, (1783‐1863), well‐known for his wine production,<br />
exploited his success in viniculture to write a pamphlet entitled The Cultivation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Grape and Manufacture of Wine. Amongst <strong>the</strong> colourful Babel of agricultural<br />
amateurs and expert gardeners of New England, <strong>the</strong> top <strong>landscape</strong>rs could be<br />
boiled down to three key people: André Parmentier 240 (1780‐1830), Alexander<br />
Jackson Davis 241 (1803‐1892) and Andrew Jackson Downing 242 (1815‐1852).<br />
Parmentier was a <strong>landscape</strong> designer in <strong>the</strong> widest sense of <strong>the</strong> word. He imported<br />
from his native Belgium his European knowledge of <strong>the</strong> picturesque garden and put<br />
his project design skills to <strong>the</strong> test in <strong>the</strong> vicinity of New York. On his arrival in<br />
America in 1824, he settled in Brooklyn, Long Island, and in only six years became<br />
an authority on <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. First, he created a horticultural nursery, which<br />
aroused public curiosity in <strong>the</strong> layout, which mirrored <strong>the</strong> scientific nature of <strong>the</strong><br />
choice and combination of plants and tastefully recreated natural situations and<br />
scenes. This activity gave him considerable publicity and repaid him by <strong>the</strong><br />
commission of a wide range of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening projects not only along <strong>the</strong><br />
banks of <strong>the</strong> River Hudson but also, as Downing himself witnessed, in <strong>the</strong> sou<strong>the</strong>rn<br />
states and near Montreal in Canada. He published a regular plant catalogue with<br />
<strong>the</strong> indirect purpose of advertising his nursery, and in 1828, he wrote an essay<br />
entitled Landscape and Picturesque Gardens. Unfortunately no precise information<br />
240 See NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971<br />
241 See PECK, Amelia (ed.), Alexander Jackson Davis: American architect, 1803‐1892, New York, The<br />
Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rizzoli, 1992;<br />
242 See YGLESIAS, Caren, The complete House and Grounds, Learning from Andrew Jackson Downing’s<br />
domestic architecture, Chicago, Center for American Places at Columbia College, 2011;<br />
144
about his numerous projects remain, but he undoubtedly ensured his services for<br />
both <strong>the</strong> project design and supply of plants to develop <strong>the</strong> property of David<br />
Hosack, president of <strong>the</strong> New York Horticultural Society and well‐known expert on<br />
plants. Hosack had considerable horticultural experience. In 1801 he purchased<br />
some land and designed <strong>the</strong> Elgin Botanical Garden in New York, devoted mainly to<br />
American autochthonous plants. After selling his botanical garden in <strong>the</strong> state of<br />
New York in 1810 (this was <strong>the</strong> first botanical garden in <strong>the</strong> state), in 1828 he<br />
decided to dedicate himself to <strong>the</strong> estate he had purchased along <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong><br />
Hudson. The property <strong>landscape</strong>, known in those days as Hyde Park, 243<br />
developed toge<strong>the</strong>r with Parmentier (<strong>the</strong> site is currently known as <strong>the</strong> Vanderbilt<br />
Mansion Historic Site 244 , after <strong>the</strong> name of <strong>the</strong> following owner, who built a Beaux‐<br />
Arts style house <strong>the</strong>re at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, which today is an<br />
appreciable tourist attraction). Among <strong>the</strong> numerous mansions and country houses<br />
built along <strong>the</strong> Hudson, <strong>the</strong> estate <strong>landscape</strong> of Hyde Park [Figures 106‐107]was<br />
considered by Downing as “justly celebrated as one of <strong>the</strong> finest specimens of<br />
modern style of Landscape Gardening in America” 245 .<br />
Downing was <strong>the</strong> undisputed authority on Landscape Gardening in <strong>the</strong> first half of<br />
<strong>the</strong> nineteenth century and <strong>the</strong> benchmark for a maestro, such as Frederick Law<br />
Olmsted. His cultural role as fa<strong>the</strong>r of American Landscape Gardening can be<br />
243 See O’DONNEL, Patricia M., “Cultural Landscape Analysis: The Vanderbilt Estate at Hyde Park”,<br />
APT Bulletin, Vol. 24, No. 3/4, Conserving Historic Landscapes (1992), pp. 25‐41;<br />
244 A complete historic resource study developed by National Park Service documentation about<br />
Vanderbilt Mansion Historic Site is at this link (<strong>the</strong> study is edited by Peggy Albee, Molly Berger, H.<br />
Eliot Foulds, Nina Gray, Pamela Herrick):<br />
http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/vama/vama_hrs.pdf URL visited June 15, 2012<br />
245 DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening<br />
Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co., sixth edition, 1860, p. 29<br />
Here <strong>the</strong> following part of <strong>the</strong> Downing’s description about Hyde Park: “Nature has, indeed done<br />
much for this place, as <strong>the</strong> grounds are finely varied, beautiful watered by a lively stream, and <strong>the</strong><br />
views are inexpressibly striking from <strong>the</strong> neighbourhood of <strong>the</strong> house itself including, as <strong>the</strong>y do, <strong>the</strong><br />
noble Hudson for sixty miles in its course, through rich valleys and bold mountains. But <strong>the</strong> efforts of<br />
art are not 'unworthy so rare a locality ; and while <strong>the</strong> native woods, and beautifully undulating<br />
surface, are preserved in <strong>the</strong>ir original state, <strong>the</strong> pleasure‐grounds, roads, walks, drives and new<br />
plantations, have been laid out in such a judicious manner as to heighten <strong>the</strong> charms of nature. Large<br />
and costly hot‐houses were erected by Dr. Hosack, with also entrance lodges at two points on <strong>the</strong><br />
estate, a fine bridge over <strong>the</strong> stream, and numerous pavilions and seats commanding extensive<br />
prospects; in short, nothing was spared to render this a complete residence. The park, which at one<br />
time contained some fine deer, afforded a delightful drive within itself, as <strong>the</strong> whole estate<br />
numbered about seven hundred acres. The plans for laying out <strong>the</strong> grounds were furnished by<br />
Parmentier, and architects from New York were employed in designing and erecting <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s.<br />
For a long time, this was <strong>the</strong> finest seat in America, but <strong>the</strong>re are now many rivals to this claim”.<br />
145<br />
was
compared to that of John Claudius Loudon in England. The intentions and contents<br />
of his book A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening Adapted<br />
to North America (1841) and his magazine The Horticulturist (1846) were inspired by<br />
<strong>the</strong> publications of Loudon, with whom he had corresponded. 246 . He sets out<br />
precise <strong>the</strong>ses, focalising first and foremost on <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>oretical significance of<br />
landscaping which, in his opinion, “is an artistic combination of <strong>the</strong> beautiful in<br />
nature and art –an union of natural expression and harmonious cultivation‐ is<br />
capable of affording us <strong>the</strong> highest and most intellectual enjoyment to be found in<br />
any cares or pleasures belonging to <strong>the</strong> soil” 247 .<br />
The conceptual heart of Downing’s ideas revolved around <strong>the</strong> romantic notion of<br />
beauty, but did not move to search for <strong>the</strong> sublime, as did <strong>the</strong> artists of <strong>the</strong> Hudson<br />
River School. Downing never lost sight of <strong>the</strong> pragmatic side and kept a balance<br />
between romantic impulses and scientific, horticultural and botanical research.<br />
From <strong>the</strong> preface of his work he clarified <strong>the</strong> way in which <strong>the</strong> taste of rural<br />
improvements [Figures 108‐112] had silently and at <strong>the</strong> same time rapidly taken<br />
over in <strong>the</strong> United States. However, it has to be specified that accounts of this<br />
cultural and economic wealth had nothing to do with <strong>the</strong> life of <strong>the</strong> pioneer and<br />
contact with <strong>the</strong> wilderness: “While yet in <strong>the</strong> far west <strong>the</strong> pioneer constructs his<br />
rude hut of logs for a dwelling, and sweeps away with his axe <strong>the</strong> lofty forest trees<br />
that encumber <strong>the</strong> ground, in <strong>the</strong> older portions of <strong>the</strong> Union, bordering <strong>the</strong><br />
Atlantic, we are surrounded by all <strong>the</strong> luxuries and refinements that belong to an<br />
old and long cultivated country” 248 .<br />
Downing’s publications are witness of this sophisticated, elegant approach to<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> practised by <strong>the</strong> north‐eastern states.<br />
If, on <strong>the</strong> one hand, Downing declared that <strong>the</strong> purpose and soul of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong><br />
was its beauty, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r, his reflections were almost always turned to <strong>the</strong><br />
country house [Figures 113‐114]: “In it we seek to embody our ideal of a rural<br />
246 During <strong>the</strong> review of <strong>the</strong> second edition of his Treatise Downing wrote in <strong>the</strong> next edition a note in<br />
praise of Loudon <strong>the</strong> following words: “His herculean labors as an author have at last destroyed him;<br />
and in his death we lose one who has done more than any o<strong>the</strong>r person that ever lived, to<br />
popularize, and render universal, a taste for Gardening and Domestic Architecture”, Ibid., p. 21<br />
247 Ibid., p. 18<br />
248 Ibid., p. vii<br />
146
home; not through plots of fruit trees, and beds of choice flowers, though <strong>the</strong>se<br />
have <strong>the</strong>ir place, but by collecting and combining beautiful forms in trees, surfaces<br />
of ground, <strong>building</strong>s, and walks, in <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> surrounding us. It is, in short, <strong>the</strong><br />
Beautiful, embodied in a home scene” 249 .<br />
Downing’s intellectual efforts focused on <strong>the</strong> rural <strong>landscape</strong> as an escape from<br />
metropolitan life. According to Downing, <strong>the</strong> town was incapable of offering real<br />
opportunities to develop <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>. “In a city or town, or its immediate vicinity,<br />
where space is limited, where <strong>building</strong>s stand crowded toge<strong>the</strong>r, and depends for<br />
<strong>the</strong>ir attractions entirely upon <strong>the</strong> style and manner of <strong>the</strong>ir construction, mere<br />
architectural effect […] is of course <strong>the</strong> only point to be kept in view” 250 . The<br />
country house is, <strong>the</strong>refore, an experience which is in complete anti<strong>the</strong>sis to <strong>the</strong><br />
town, and yet somehow is part of it, even though it sets out to be a refuge from <strong>the</strong><br />
crowd and confusion. Downing’s innovation was to imagine architecture could be<br />
part of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and at <strong>the</strong> same time it could speak <strong>the</strong> language of nature.<br />
The country house is:<br />
a dwelling, as from its various accommodations, not only gives ample<br />
space for all <strong>the</strong> comforts and conveniences of a country life, but by its<br />
varied and picturesque form and outline, its porches, verandas, etc., also<br />
appears to have some reasonable connexion, or be in perfect keeping,<br />
with surrounding nature. Architectural beauty must be considered<br />
conjointly with <strong>the</strong> beauty of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> or situation. Buildings of<br />
almost every description, and particularly those for <strong>the</strong> habitation of<br />
man, will be considered by <strong>the</strong> mind of taste, not only as architectural<br />
objects of greater or less merit, but as component parts of <strong>the</strong> general<br />
scene; united with <strong>the</strong> surrounding lawn, embosomed in tufts of trees<br />
and shrubs, if properly designed and constructed, <strong>the</strong>y will even serve to<br />
impress a character upon <strong>the</strong> surrounding <strong>landscape</strong> 251 .<br />
In o<strong>the</strong>r words, Downing believed that improvements, that is to say rural<br />
embellishment, fall into <strong>the</strong> field of architecture and include notions of gardening.<br />
This was undoubtedly a complex, innovative vision, partly of Anglo‐Saxon origin, but<br />
which enabled <strong>the</strong> United States to take <strong>the</strong> first step along <strong>the</strong> road to using <strong>the</strong><br />
term <strong>landscape</strong> architect and to <strong>the</strong> legal recognition of <strong>the</strong> profession. His books<br />
249 Ibid., p. 18<br />
250 Ibid., p. 319<br />
251 Ibid., p. 320<br />
147
convinced many architects to dedicate <strong>the</strong>mselves to and develop a passion for <strong>the</strong><br />
discipline of landscaping.<br />
In his Treatise, Downing not only took <strong>the</strong> trouble to work out a <strong>the</strong>ory of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> and to share his knowledge of it, he also tried to follow <strong>the</strong> example of<br />
Repton and Loudon and provide captivating, educational illustrations.<br />
Thus, he involved Alexander Jackson Davis, a promising architect from New York<br />
and John Notman (1810‐1865) of Philadelphia, also an architect and project<br />
designer of Laurel Hill Cemetery in 1836 [Figures 103‐104]. From England, Loudon<br />
provided pictures and descriptions of <strong>the</strong> English Suburban Cottage. His partnership<br />
with <strong>the</strong> two young, American project designers was not a casual choice, nor was it<br />
dictated by <strong>the</strong> need to print <strong>the</strong> volume.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> 1840s, Davis was already involved in <strong>the</strong> search for a rural, picturesque,<br />
architectural style which was basically Neo‐Gothic, contaminated by various formal<br />
etymons, at <strong>the</strong> time when <strong>the</strong> “national” style, <strong>the</strong> federal‐style, which he himself<br />
had skilfully tried, was at its height. In o<strong>the</strong>r words, he had taken on a commitment,<br />
which implied that <strong>the</strong> Jefferson‐type classicism had to be overcome in order to<br />
experiment cultural choices, which were closer to <strong>the</strong> new, romantic demands.<br />
Moreover, Davis was a skilled illustrator, as he had eclectically prepared numerous<br />
drawings of country houses for a book published in 1836, entitled Rural Residences.<br />
This publication was only part of a wider publishing project, which had been<br />
interrupted by <strong>the</strong> economic crisis of 1837.<br />
John Notman, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, was a successful architect, known above all for<br />
Laurel Hill cemetery in Philadelphia, one of <strong>the</strong> most important rural cemeteries in<br />
<strong>the</strong> United States. With a neo‐classical entrance and gardens delineated by winding<br />
paths, Laurel Hill was set a few miles from <strong>the</strong> town, in true rural garden style, in an<br />
attempt to offer residents a picturesque park for trips out of town. Laurel Hill was<br />
“more than just a cemetery”, a place for walks, for tours to see <strong>the</strong> gardens and<br />
sculptures and for picnics. A phrase printed in <strong>the</strong> advertising material of <strong>the</strong><br />
company running it continues to invite today’s visitors to do <strong>the</strong> same activities. The<br />
illustrations provided by <strong>the</strong>se architects helped pass on Downing’s message. They<br />
were not illustrations designed in <strong>the</strong> typical, harsh style of architecture, which used<br />
148
plans, perspectives and cross‐sections to describe <strong>the</strong> details of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>. These<br />
illustrations were designed to represent more complex scenes, often with<br />
perspective and axonometric projections, in which nature plays a leading role and<br />
where flora is drawn with scientific accuracy. In 1842, <strong>the</strong> year following <strong>the</strong><br />
publication of <strong>the</strong> Treatise, Norman and Davis continued to work toge<strong>the</strong>r. Downing<br />
decided to entrust Davis with <strong>the</strong> general review of <strong>the</strong> architectural drawings and<br />
details for his new book, Cottage Residences or A Series of Designs for Rural<br />
Cottages and Cottage‐Villas, and <strong>the</strong>ir Gardens and Grounds adapted to North<br />
America, published simultaneously in New York and London. Cottage Residences<br />
appears to be a catalogue of solutions. In it, Downing described <strong>the</strong> relationship<br />
between <strong>the</strong> house, garden and <strong>landscape</strong> and he dwelt on <strong>the</strong> architecture by<br />
means of accurate drawings.<br />
Downing believed <strong>the</strong> relationship between <strong>landscape</strong> and architecture to be based<br />
on architectural styles and revealed a complex, methodical approach at <strong>the</strong> same<br />
time. The recurring terms Downing used suggested solutions, which were <strong>the</strong> fruit<br />
of an excessive and sometimes fairy‐tale imagination: Tudor style, irregular mansion<br />
in <strong>the</strong> Italian style, irregular cottage in <strong>the</strong> old English style, villa in <strong>the</strong> Italian style,<br />
cottage in <strong>the</strong> Italian or Tuscan style [Figures 113‐114]. All styles are made from<br />
details, from a preference for vertical lines, for <strong>the</strong> slope of <strong>the</strong> roof pitch, from <strong>the</strong><br />
shapes and dimensions of <strong>the</strong> windows, from <strong>the</strong> arrangement of volumes as a<br />
reminder of Gothic revival, tainted with sudden, personal passions. In 1843, he<br />
edited <strong>the</strong> American edition of Gardening for Ladies by Jane Loudon, a popular book<br />
of practical gardening. A few years later in 1845, Downing published Fruits and Fruit<br />
Trees of America, ano<strong>the</strong>r book from <strong>the</strong> very successful publishing project, which<br />
reached <strong>the</strong> substantial number of fourteen reprints by 1852, <strong>the</strong> year he died. The<br />
final years of his life were dedicated to improving and reviewing his publications.<br />
Thus, a new title appeared on <strong>the</strong> market, The Architecture of Country Houses<br />
(1850), with revised and enlarged contents compared to his previous works on <strong>the</strong><br />
same topic. He formulated <strong>the</strong> details of <strong>the</strong> architectural trends and taste for <strong>the</strong><br />
picturesque of <strong>the</strong> time, and <strong>the</strong>se writings made Downing extremely popular<br />
among <strong>the</strong> ranks of experts and <strong>the</strong> wider public. His fame, however, was not<br />
149
estricted to his <strong>the</strong>oretical works. Downing was frequently called by rich, private<br />
individuals to give landscaping and architectural advice, work in which he used his<br />
vast repertory of solutions he had described in his texts. Almost nothing remains of<br />
<strong>the</strong>se interventions as a result of transformations over <strong>the</strong> years, 252 and his analysis<br />
of <strong>the</strong> project for <strong>the</strong> layout of <strong>the</strong> Mall in Washington [Figures 115‐117].<br />
Downing was invited by <strong>the</strong> President of <strong>the</strong> United States, Millard Fillmore (1800‐<br />
1874) to prepare <strong>the</strong> general plan for a large L‐shaped area between <strong>the</strong> Capitol<br />
Building and <strong>the</strong> White House, at <strong>the</strong> time known as <strong>the</strong> public grounds [Figure<br />
116]. The intention was to design and draw up a proposal for a layout to be<br />
developed on a large portion of <strong>the</strong> city, which had yet to be determined.<br />
Washington was founded on <strong>the</strong> basis of guidelines prepared by Pierre Charles<br />
L’Enfant in 1791 and attention at <strong>the</strong> time had focused on <strong>the</strong> geometric design of<br />
<strong>the</strong> blocks. The ground plan had created a design featuring alternating streets on a<br />
grid, with wide diagonal boulevards converging on <strong>the</strong> government <strong>building</strong>s.<br />
L’Enfant’s idea was that <strong>the</strong> area of <strong>the</strong> Mall should accommodate a scenic Grand<br />
Avenue of extraordinary magnificence [Figure 115]. Downing’s proposal, however,<br />
rejected this rigid geometric design and was set out as a picturesque utopia, a town<br />
planning experiment aiming to mediate <strong>the</strong> relationship between <strong>the</strong> architecture<br />
of power, <strong>the</strong> city and <strong>the</strong> countryside.<br />
Downing’s project for <strong>the</strong> Mall in Washington was not merely a <strong>landscape</strong> project,<br />
but ra<strong>the</strong>r it sparked <strong>the</strong> emerging problem of large scale town planning. So, for <strong>the</strong><br />
first time, landscaping played a part in a proposal to develop <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
The solution to adopt a <strong>landscape</strong> plan, moreover, gave <strong>the</strong> opportunity to soften<br />
some of <strong>the</strong> incongruent styles of <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong>s overlooking <strong>the</strong> public grounds. The<br />
construction of <strong>the</strong> headquarters of <strong>the</strong> Smithsonian Institution, nicknamed The<br />
Castle as a result of <strong>the</strong> project designed by James Renwick Jr. (1818‐1895), had<br />
undermined <strong>the</strong> uniform style of <strong>the</strong> area which was based on <strong>the</strong> Neo‐classical<br />
codes of <strong>the</strong> federal (Greek) style.<br />
252 Springside, Poughkeepsie, New York, (1850) remains <strong>the</strong> only surviving <strong>landscape</strong> work by Andrew<br />
Jackson Downing, which he followed from creation to completion. The <strong>landscape</strong> of Springside<br />
embraced <strong>the</strong> natural forests and environment and designed <strong>the</strong> architectures and <strong>the</strong> layout of<br />
farm and cultivated grounds. At least two of Downing’s planned <strong>building</strong>s were built (a barn and a<br />
gardener’s cottage) and <strong>the</strong> main house planned remained only a drawing.<br />
150
Thus, Downing’s ideas endorsed <strong>the</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tic renewal at a time when <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardening was no longer restricted to private, rich individuals or to initiatives by<br />
horticultural societies. However much Downing distanced himself from <strong>the</strong><br />
naturalistic scenes of <strong>the</strong> frontier, he was undoubtedly aware of <strong>the</strong> existence of<br />
<strong>the</strong> “sublime” <strong>landscape</strong>s of <strong>the</strong> wilderness, which sparked <strong>the</strong> demand by citizens<br />
of <strong>the</strong> American metropolis for green areas in <strong>the</strong> heart of <strong>the</strong> large, built‐up, urban<br />
areas. Therefore, <strong>the</strong> chance to tackle a large public project also brought to light <strong>the</strong><br />
possibility of blending nature and <strong>the</strong> metropolis. However, <strong>the</strong> relationship<br />
between town and park was <strong>the</strong> part Downing investigated least, and perhaps he<br />
intentionally refused to include thick barriers of vegetation along <strong>the</strong> perimeter of<br />
<strong>the</strong> area [Figure 117].<br />
Downing dreamt of a project organised into a succession of five large gardens,<br />
crossed by winding paths flanked by an existing waterway. A sixth area sloped<br />
gently down towards <strong>the</strong> River Potomac and was <strong>the</strong> culmination of undulating<br />
ground [Figure 116]. The obelisk in memory of Washington, a work by Robert Mills<br />
(1781‐1855), was placed at <strong>the</strong> beginning of this area, opposite <strong>the</strong> White House, in<br />
line with <strong>the</strong> Capitol Building, <strong>the</strong> construction of which had begun a few years<br />
earlier.<br />
Downing’s project was only partially completed due to lack of funding and it was<br />
completely destroyed when <strong>the</strong> public grounds were used to station troops during<br />
<strong>the</strong> Civil War.<br />
Unfortunately, very few of Downing’s projects have survived and he was not as<br />
successful professionally as Alexander Jackson Davis, many of whose works are still<br />
to be seen.<br />
Davis not only worked with Downing, he was also an architect, talented designer<br />
and expert builder. After a profitable period of experimenting with <strong>the</strong> classical<br />
style, he decided to dedicate himself to projects for country houses. Among his<br />
many house projects, one of <strong>the</strong> most famous from an architectural point of view<br />
was most certainly Lyndhurst Mansion, Tarrytown, New York (1838) [Figure 118], an<br />
example of Gothic Revival, built along <strong>the</strong> banks of <strong>the</strong> Hudson. Davis’ ideas on<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> followed in <strong>the</strong> footsteps of Downing’s, but showed a strong feeling for<br />
151
architecture. Davis’ <strong>landscape</strong>s featured mainly scenes created by various<br />
architectural issues following one after <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r. For example, in <strong>the</strong> project to<br />
extend <strong>the</strong> main mansion on <strong>the</strong> estate named Montgomery Place, Barrytown, New<br />
York, (1844), Davis lingered over <strong>the</strong> design of a series of architectural out<strong>building</strong>s,<br />
such as <strong>the</strong> coach house and a Swiss cottage, built to support a <strong>landscape</strong> gardening<br />
project, fine tuned after informal advice from Downing.<br />
The project for Locust Grove, <strong>the</strong> “Italian style” house, designed in 1851 for his<br />
friend Samuel F.B. Morse, 253 followed <strong>the</strong> model of previous <strong>building</strong>s in <strong>the</strong><br />
“Italian” Revival style, such as Blandwood Mansion, Greensboro, North Carolina<br />
(1844). The taste for rural houses, which Davis supported both in <strong>the</strong>ory and in<br />
practice, became <strong>the</strong> planning model for Llewellyn Park, West Orange, New Jersey<br />
(1853‐57) [Figures 119‐120]. Llewellyn Park was without any doubt Davis’<br />
masterpiece of <strong>landscape</strong> planning. The most striking feature of <strong>the</strong> project, begun<br />
on <strong>the</strong> initiative of <strong>the</strong> rich entrepreneur from New York, Llewellyn Solomon<br />
Haskell, was <strong>the</strong> picturesque nostalgia for life in close contact with nature. Llewellyn<br />
purchased approximately 40 acres of land and asked Davis to prepare a project for<br />
<strong>the</strong> property. In 1853, <strong>the</strong> initial proposal only envisaged <strong>the</strong> renovation of an<br />
existing farmhouse on <strong>the</strong> land and <strong>the</strong> use of 15 acres for a picturesque garden,<br />
leaving <strong>the</strong> remainder of <strong>the</strong> property in its natural state [Figure 120]. In 1857,<br />
Llewellyn purchased a fur<strong>the</strong>r 350 acres, as he foresaw that his private park could<br />
stimulate <strong>the</strong> development of a model suburb immersed in nature [Figure 55]. Davis<br />
planned <strong>the</strong> area leaving a common property in <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> park on an<br />
irregular shaped piece of ground, and divided <strong>the</strong> remainder of <strong>the</strong> land into<br />
exclusive lots of varying size. Finally, he designed a gate house [Figure 119]at <strong>the</strong><br />
park entrance. The general ground plan excluded any form of grid or geometric<br />
rigidity and <strong>the</strong> rural character was guaranteed by his particular refusal to repeat<br />
<strong>the</strong> orthogonal shapes of <strong>the</strong> large cities to <strong>the</strong> scale of <strong>the</strong> individual lots. It was<br />
such a success that <strong>the</strong> park was enlarged in <strong>the</strong> following decade, even though it<br />
253 Samuel F. B. Morse (1791‐1872) was <strong>the</strong> inventor of <strong>the</strong> telegraph. Morse was also a painter<br />
interested in <strong>landscape</strong> gardening. During 1826, he delivered four “Lectures on <strong>the</strong> Affinity of<br />
Painting with <strong>the</strong> O<strong>the</strong>r Fine Arts” and he asserted that gardening is a fine art. Cf. <strong>the</strong> book by<br />
MORSE, F.B. Samuel, Lectures on <strong>the</strong> Affinity of Painting with <strong>the</strong> O<strong>the</strong>r Fine Arts, edited with intr. by<br />
Nicolai Cikovsky, Columbia, Missouri and London, University of Missouri Press, 1983<br />
152
was <strong>the</strong> first of its kind, proof that <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> could now become <strong>the</strong> key to <strong>the</strong><br />
development of <strong>the</strong> American town. The Llewellyn settlement had distinct<br />
advantages: a short distance from <strong>the</strong> city of New York, privacy guaranteed by full<br />
immersion in nature, <strong>the</strong> emulation of <strong>the</strong> experience of <strong>the</strong> wilderness reproduced<br />
according to <strong>the</strong> fashion of <strong>the</strong> picturesque garden and enjoyable without <strong>the</strong><br />
dangers of <strong>the</strong> frontier. The transcendentalist ideas and <strong>the</strong> experiences of<br />
community life were absorbed and programmatically revised into an urban model<br />
that was to permeate American culture in <strong>the</strong> following years.<br />
Now it was nature, which wormed its way into <strong>the</strong> metropolis according to <strong>the</strong><br />
needs and procedures that were to be improved with great sensitivity in Olmsted’s<br />
projects. Downing and Davis went ahead with hypo<strong>the</strong>ses, which were to constitute<br />
<strong>the</strong> premises for <strong>the</strong> use of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> as a tool for town planning. Without <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
work, <strong>the</strong> creation of a landscaping symbol, such as Central Park in New York, would<br />
never have been able to take place.<br />
153
Figure 89- Mount Airy Plantation (Colonel John Tayloe Plantation), Richmond County, Virginia.<br />
1758-1762 Group Plan, Buildings and Gardens; Drawing by architect John Ariss<br />
(Cornell University Library, Collection A. D. White Architectural Photographs)
Figure 90- McMahon’s plan for “design for a villa garden”: A) House, B) Barn, C) Hose clumps,<br />
D) Central fi gures of fl ower garden, E) Lawn, F) Grape-arbor, G) Vegetable grounds H) Fruit<br />
department, K) Yard, L) Piazza, S) Rustic seat V) Vase. (The ground measured 120 feet by 200<br />
feet). The following named trees are placed as indicated by <strong>the</strong> fi gures on <strong>the</strong> plan : 1. Magnolia<br />
purpurea, Purple Magnolia. 2. Magnolia conspicua, Chandelier Magnolia. 3, 4. Cedrus Deodar,<br />
Deodar Cedar. 5, 6. Abies canadensis, Hemlock Spruce. 7. Liquidambar styracifl ua, Sweet<br />
Gum. 8. Fagus sylvatica purpurea, Purple Beech. 9. Acer campestre, English Maple. 10. Chionanthus<br />
Virginica, Virginia Fringe Tree. 11. Magnolia tripetala, Umbrella Magnolia. 12. Rhus<br />
cotinus, Mist Bush. 13. Cytisus laburnum, Golden Chain. 14. Virgilea lutea, Yellow Wood. 15.<br />
Halesia tretraptera, Silver Bell. 16. Larix Europa, European Larch. 17. Celtis occidentalis, Nettle<br />
Tree. 18. Acacia julibrissin, <strong>the</strong> Julibrissin Tree. 19. Juglans regia, Madeira Nut. 20. Berberis<br />
purpurea, Purple Berberry. 21. Pyrus Japonica, Japan Quince. 22. Buxus sempervirens arborea,<br />
Tree Box. 23. Euonymus Japonica, Evergreen Euonymus. At D in <strong>the</strong> fl ower-garden, a plant<br />
of <strong>the</strong> weeping cherry, and <strong>the</strong> * shows <strong>the</strong> position of sugar maples for shade.<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> book: The American Gardner’s Calendar, adapted to <strong>the</strong> climate<br />
and season of <strong>the</strong> United States, Philadelphia, J.B. Lippincott and Co., 1857 (fi rst ed.<br />
1806) p. 86 by Bernard McMahon
Figure 91- Mount Vernon Plantation, George Washington’s house, Fairfax County, Virginia,<br />
measured and drawn in 1931<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> book by NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development<br />
of Landscape Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of<br />
Harvard University Press, 1971
Figure 92- The immediate surroundings of <strong>the</strong> house atMount Vernon: <strong>the</strong> Bowling Green in<br />
<strong>the</strong> center, <strong>the</strong> Box Garden on <strong>the</strong> left, <strong>the</strong> Kitchen Garden on <strong>the</strong> right.<br />
Image from <strong>the</strong> book by NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development<br />
of Landscape Architecture, Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of<br />
Harvard University Press, 1971
Figure 93- Plan scheme of <strong>the</strong> Jefferson’s University of Virginia. The <strong>building</strong> on <strong>the</strong> top is<br />
“The Rotunda”. The <strong>building</strong>s numerated with Roman numbers are <strong>the</strong> Academic Pavilions,<br />
ant <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs are service <strong>building</strong>s and <strong>the</strong> hotels for students and professors. In green <strong>the</strong><br />
private gardens and in <strong>the</strong> center of <strong>the</strong> project The Lawn.<br />
(Plan by Luca Guido derived from 1822 Peter Maverick’s engraving)<br />
Figure 94- Thomas Jefferson-View of <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia, Charlottesville:<br />
<strong>the</strong> Lawn and “The Rotunda”, 1856<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)<br />
Figure 95- Right: View of <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia, Charlottesville & Monticello, taken from<br />
Lewis Mountain. The main <strong>building</strong> is “The Rotunda” <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>rs <strong>building</strong>s are <strong>the</strong> Academic<br />
Village, note <strong>the</strong> layout of <strong>the</strong> private gardens and The Lawn,1856<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 96- Thomas Jefferson-View of <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia, Charlottesville:<br />
<strong>the</strong> Lawn and “The Rotunda”, 1856<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 97- Thomas Jefferson-View of <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia: lawn and pavilions , 1856<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)<br />
Figure 98- Thomas Jefferson-View of <strong>the</strong> University of Virginia: lawn,pavilions, and The Rotunda,1856<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 99- Frank Lloyd Wright Como Orchard Summer Colony, 1909<br />
The plan scheme remember <strong>the</strong> Jefferson’s project of University of Virginia<br />
(Image from <strong>the</strong> book WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, Ausgefuhrte Bauten un Entwurfe von<br />
Frank Lloyd Wright, Berlin, Ernst Wasmuth, 1910, plate XLVI)
Figure 100- Henry Alexander Scammel Dearborn, Jacob Bigelow, Alexander Wadsworth:<br />
Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge, Massachusetts, plan of 1850<br />
(Boston Public Library, Norman B. Leventhal Map Center)
Figure 101- Almerin Hotchkiss: Birds eye view of Greenwood Cemetery. Brooklyn, New York,<br />
1838 (view by John Bahmann)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 102- Almerin Hotchkiss: Bellefontaine Cemetery plan (1848), St. Louis, Missouri, 1875<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 103- John Notman, Philadelphia Laurel-Hill Cemetery, Plan of North section<br />
(Drawn from <strong>the</strong> book : SMITH, R.A., Smith’s illustrated guide to and through Laurel Hill cemetery,<br />
Philadelphia, W.P. Hazard, 1852)<br />
Figure 104- John Notman, Philadelphia Laurel-Hill Cemetery, 1836; Drawn from nature by<br />
Aug. Kölllner ; lith. by Deroy Print showing path leading to gatehouse entrance to cemetery,<br />
with cemetery, superintendent’s house, and chapel behind it; two men ride horses on road in<br />
foreground. (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 105- John Claudius Loudon’s Design for a laying out planting a cemetery on hilly<br />
ground, 1843<br />
Image from: LOUDON, John Claudius, The Gardener’s Magazine and register of rural<br />
and domestic improvement, London, Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1843
Figure 106- Andrè Parmentier and David Hosack: Hyde Park, New York, 1828; Note in <strong>the</strong><br />
background <strong>the</strong> Hudson river.<br />
Image from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860<br />
Figure 107- Andrè Parmentier and David Hosack: Hyde Park, New York, 1828; Note in <strong>the</strong><br />
background <strong>the</strong> Hudson river. Present-day image.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 108- Above: Plan of a common Farm, before any improvements<br />
Figure 109- Below: Plan of <strong>the</strong> foregoing grounds ad a Country Sear, after ten years’ improvement<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860
Figures 110- In <strong>the</strong> previous page: example of irregular fl ower garden; English fl ower garden;<br />
Groupinng to produce <strong>the</strong> “Beautiful”; Grouping to produce <strong>the</strong> Picturesque;<br />
Figures111/112- In this page: (above)Plan of a Mansion Residence, laid out in <strong>the</strong> natural<br />
style;(below) View of a Picturesque farm.<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860
Figure 113- Andrew Jackson Downing, Rural residences<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860
Figure 114- Andrew Jackson Downing, Cottage residence<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, Cottage Residences; or a series of designes<br />
for rural cottages and cottage-villas and <strong>the</strong>ir gardens and grounds<br />
adapted to North America, New York and London, Wiley and Putnam, 1842
Figure 115- The situation before Downing’s project: 1815 map exhibiting <strong>the</strong> property of <strong>the</strong><br />
U.S. in <strong>the</strong> vicinity of <strong>the</strong> Capitol: colored red, with <strong>the</strong> manner in which it is proposed to lay off<br />
<strong>the</strong> same in <strong>building</strong> lots, as described in <strong>the</strong> report to <strong>the</strong> Suprintendentt of <strong>the</strong> city to which<br />
this is annexed.<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)<br />
Figure 116- Downing’s project for <strong>the</strong> public grounds of Washington (The Mall) 1851: Plan<br />
showing proposed method of laying out <strong>the</strong> park. In <strong>the</strong> Corner at left <strong>the</strong>re is <strong>the</strong> Capitol <strong>building</strong>,<br />
at right below <strong>the</strong> White House.<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 117- Downing’s project for <strong>the</strong> public grounds of Washington, with projected improvements,<br />
1852 (litograph by Benjamin F. Smith, 1830-1927)<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)
Figure 118- Alexander Jackson Davis, Lyndhurst Mansion, Tarrytown, New York, 1838<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington)<br />
Figure 119- Alexander Jackson Davis, Llewellyn Park, view of <strong>the</strong> gate<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860
Figure 120- Alexander Jackson Davis, Llewellyn Park, plan of <strong>the</strong> common area; around this<br />
<strong>the</strong> private grounds<br />
Images from: DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of<br />
Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America, New York, Saxton, Barker & Co.,<br />
sixt edition, 1860
Landscape as a principle of urban planning<br />
In <strong>the</strong> summer of 1850, before receiving <strong>the</strong> commission for <strong>the</strong> Mall project in<br />
Washington, Andrew Jackson Downing travelled to England to study English<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> design for himself. During a visit to London, Downing met Calvert Vaux<br />
(1824‐1895), a young apprentice architect in <strong>the</strong> office of Lewis Nockalls<br />
Cottingham (1787‐1847), a leading figure in <strong>the</strong> Gothic movement. At an exhibition<br />
of watercolour <strong>landscape</strong>s, Downing was deeply struck by Vaux’s artistic talent and<br />
was convinced he had found a man to help him put his <strong>landscape</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories into<br />
practice and apply <strong>the</strong>m to architecture. Vaux followed Downing to <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States, where <strong>the</strong>y worked toge<strong>the</strong>r for two years as partners and built several<br />
Gothic style houses.<br />
On Downing’s death in 1852, Vaux decided to continue his own professional career<br />
in New York and complete some housing projects he had begun with his old<br />
partner, to become a benchmark in <strong>the</strong> field of <strong>landscape</strong> design. The tragic end of<br />
<strong>the</strong> fa<strong>the</strong>r of <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong> occurred when a steamboat went up in flames<br />
and finally destroyed <strong>the</strong> romantic dreams personified by <strong>the</strong> work of <strong>the</strong><br />
protagonists of <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century. It had become necessary to reconcile<br />
<strong>the</strong> metropolis and nature. The picturesque impulses of <strong>landscape</strong> gardening had to<br />
face up to <strong>the</strong> new needs of <strong>the</strong> expanding city.<br />
Vaux and Olmsted were <strong>the</strong> interpreters of <strong>the</strong>se new demands. After <strong>the</strong> death of<br />
Downing and <strong>the</strong> commemoration of his genius, his lesson was revised and <strong>the</strong><br />
mythical elements around his person disappeared. The <strong>landscape</strong> was to take a<br />
decisive step forwards to become a modern tool of urban planning and<br />
fundamental premise for <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> American city.<br />
The opportunity to test <strong>the</strong> renewed aes<strong>the</strong>tic needs was provided by <strong>the</strong><br />
competition to design Central Park in New York [Figures 121‐127], an urban park for<br />
which Downing himself had battled during his final years.<br />
New York was <strong>the</strong> ideal city in which to experiment any relapses in town planning in<br />
a large <strong>landscape</strong> project.<br />
154
Its vicinity to <strong>the</strong> Hudson valley with its magnificent estates and uncontaminated<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s had developed a cultural life in <strong>the</strong> light of <strong>the</strong> most interesting<br />
experiments in <strong>the</strong> field of <strong>landscape</strong>. Never<strong>the</strong>less, New York had few, unbuilt,<br />
green spaces mainly due to casual, accidental policies. The area of Battery Park, in<br />
<strong>the</strong> part south of Manhattan, had been used for military purposes until <strong>the</strong> end of<br />
hostilities with <strong>the</strong> English (1812), whereas <strong>the</strong> nearby Bowling Green and <strong>the</strong> socalled<br />
City Hall Park to <strong>the</strong> north, although <strong>the</strong>y appeared to be “happy<br />
interludes” 254 as Norman T. Newton defined <strong>the</strong>m, were simply undersized scraps<br />
of land, compared to <strong>the</strong> dense structure of <strong>the</strong> city.<br />
This delicate urban planning situation brought about a general awareness, geared<br />
to develop and upgrade areas of public interest, intended as green spaces for<br />
recreational purposes, in <strong>the</strong> wake of contemporary English experiments and of <strong>the</strong><br />
rural cemeteries. The main advocates for a press campaign in favour of urban parks,<br />
also called <strong>the</strong> park movement, were Downing from <strong>the</strong> pages of <strong>the</strong> Horticulturist,<br />
and William Cullen Bryant 255 (1794‐1878), a poet and journalist for <strong>the</strong> New York<br />
Evening Post. Before Bryant took part, as Olmsted sustained, 256 nothing had been<br />
done to prevent <strong>the</strong> chaotic atmosphere of <strong>the</strong> city and <strong>the</strong> string‐pulling of <strong>the</strong><br />
speculators. Bryant had highlighted how nature could become of primary interest<br />
for technological civilisation and for civilised man. He explicitly asked for <strong>the</strong><br />
creation of a system of public parks and gardens in <strong>the</strong> centre of <strong>the</strong> island of<br />
Manhattan. In 1851, via <strong>the</strong> Evening Post, he supported <strong>the</strong> election of <strong>the</strong> mayor,<br />
Kingsland, who undertook to approve <strong>the</strong> First Park Act in <strong>the</strong> New York Legislature.<br />
Once <strong>the</strong> administrative act had been approved, <strong>the</strong> Municipality of New York was<br />
able to purchase an area named Jones’s Wood, on land between Third Avenue, <strong>the</strong><br />
East River, and between <strong>the</strong> 64th and 75th street. However, both Downing and<br />
Bryant understood that <strong>the</strong> area identified by <strong>the</strong> politicians was not large enough<br />
254 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 268<br />
255 William Cullen Bryant (1794‐1878) was interested in natural <strong>landscape</strong>. In 1872 and 1874 he<br />
edited two volumes entitled Picturesque America, publications describing and illustrating <strong>the</strong> scenery<br />
of America. These books are considered very important in <strong>the</strong> development of tourism and <strong>the</strong><br />
historic conservation movement in <strong>the</strong> United States.<br />
256 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 269<br />
155
and did not come up to <strong>the</strong> expectations of <strong>the</strong> construction development <strong>the</strong>y<br />
envisaged. Subsequently, <strong>the</strong> borders of <strong>the</strong> area were extended from <strong>the</strong> 59th<br />
street to <strong>the</strong> 106th, to include <strong>the</strong> area of <strong>the</strong> Croton Reservoir, an artificial water<br />
basin, <strong>the</strong> final part in <strong>the</strong> Croton System, a major work of hydraulic engineering to<br />
exploit <strong>the</strong> waters of <strong>the</strong> River Croton. It was only in 1859 that <strong>the</strong> area planned for<br />
in <strong>the</strong> project took on <strong>the</strong> current shape, which goes from <strong>the</strong> 59th street as far as<br />
110th street, and in 1863 <strong>the</strong> city administration bought <strong>the</strong> remaining portions of<br />
land between <strong>the</strong> 106th street and <strong>the</strong> 110th [Figures 121‐122].<br />
As Lewis Mumford said, <strong>the</strong> cultural movement in favour of public parks gained <strong>the</strong><br />
support of <strong>the</strong> general public in <strong>the</strong> 1860s and <strong>the</strong> numerous works by Frederick<br />
Law Olmsted gave <strong>the</strong> cause <strong>the</strong> decisive push, despite <strong>the</strong> fact that during <strong>the</strong><br />
period following <strong>the</strong> Civil War <strong>the</strong>re were heated discussions about less exploitation<br />
of natural resources. 257<br />
Olmsted was <strong>the</strong> person who revised <strong>the</strong> passionate demands for romantic nature,<br />
expressed by <strong>the</strong> Conservation Movement and by <strong>the</strong> Park Movement, and gave<br />
<strong>the</strong>m a statute of method, which aimed to redress <strong>the</strong> incongruencies and<br />
rebalance <strong>the</strong> deficiencies of industrial development.<br />
It was Lewis Mumford, who highlighted <strong>the</strong> precise, cultural role played by <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s architects in <strong>the</strong> fight against blackguardly development, begun by a<br />
system of territorial government based on <strong>the</strong> grid. Olmsted, for example, proved<br />
with projects such as Riverside [Figure 54] that alternative solutions were possible<br />
and popular prejudice in favour of monotony dictated by <strong>the</strong> anonymous repetition<br />
of rectangular lots could be broken.<br />
Up until 1857, <strong>the</strong> year of <strong>the</strong> competition to design Central Park, Olmsted had<br />
shown interest in agriculture and had taken care of a farm committed to<br />
experimental cultivation techniques. He had written numerous observations of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> in a series of journeys through Europe and in <strong>the</strong> sou<strong>the</strong>rn regions of <strong>the</strong><br />
United State as a newspaper correspondent.<br />
257 MUMFORD, Lewis, The Brown Decades, Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1931, pp.35‐36<br />
(Italian translation edited by Francesco Dal Co, Architettura e cultura in America, dalla guerra civile<br />
all’ ultima frontiera, Venice, Marsilio, 1977, pp.73‐74)<br />
156
The result of <strong>the</strong>se journeys were <strong>the</strong> previously mentioned books, Walks and Talks<br />
of an American Farmer in England (1852) and a series of writings published<br />
between 1856 and 1857, and ga<strong>the</strong>red in a collection entitled Journeys and<br />
Explorations in <strong>the</strong> Cotton Kingdom (1861), 258 which were an analytical description<br />
of life on <strong>the</strong> sou<strong>the</strong>rn plantations without <strong>the</strong> melodramatic stereotypes of <strong>the</strong><br />
anti‐slavery novels. However, <strong>the</strong> importance of his English account is most<br />
significant in his history of <strong>the</strong> beginnings of contemporary <strong>landscape</strong> design.<br />
When Olmsted published <strong>the</strong> books Walks and Talks of an American Farmer in<br />
England, he dedicated <strong>the</strong> first volume to George Geddes 259 (1809‐1883), a wellknown<br />
politician from New York and his mentor for agriculture, whereas <strong>the</strong> second<br />
volume paid homage with a less personal reference to <strong>the</strong> figure of Andrew Jackson<br />
Downing.<br />
Olmsted’s training, <strong>the</strong>refore, was influenced by his direct experiences and firsthand<br />
observations, which convinced him to follow <strong>the</strong> popular ideas of <strong>the</strong><br />
picturesque, thus definitively endorsing <strong>the</strong> passage from rigid geometry to<br />
inherent, winding shapes. Olmsted’s approach was not, <strong>the</strong>refore, prone to<br />
<strong>the</strong>oretical or profane enthusiasm and for this very reason he was not lured to join<br />
in with <strong>the</strong> fashion of <strong>the</strong> time.<br />
In 1857, he had acquired sufficient authority to present his own curriculum to <strong>the</strong><br />
commissioners in charge of <strong>the</strong> creation of Central Park. With <strong>the</strong> support of<br />
people of <strong>the</strong> calibre of Washington Irving, Horace Greeley and William Cullen<br />
Bryant, he was elected Park superintendant and was able to edge closer to <strong>the</strong><br />
world of <strong>landscape</strong> design. As soon as he heard of <strong>the</strong> design competition (1858) to<br />
develop <strong>the</strong> Park, he decided to ask permission from <strong>the</strong> head engineer, his<br />
superior, to take part and joined forces with Calvert Vaux.<br />
258 Journeys and Explorations in <strong>the</strong> Cotton Kingdom (1861) by Olmsted is an abridged version of his<br />
dispatches to <strong>the</strong> New York Times collected in three volumes: A Journey in <strong>the</strong> Seaboard Slave<br />
States (1856), A Journey Through Texas (1857), A Journey in <strong>the</strong> Back Country in <strong>the</strong> Winter of 1853‐<br />
1854 (1860)<br />
259 George Geddes (1809‐1883) was an engineer, agronomist and politician from New York. He was a<br />
member of <strong>the</strong> New York Senate and was well‐known in agricultural circle for his model farm at<br />
Fairmount. He also built <strong>the</strong> first plank road in America (1846) an interesting model of a wooden<br />
road covered with a series of planks, which was very common in <strong>the</strong> Midwest and Northwest of <strong>the</strong><br />
US during <strong>the</strong> 1850s.<br />
157
Vaux complemented Olmsted, he had a good knowledge of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories of <strong>the</strong><br />
picturesque garden, and in addition, he was a skilled designer with varied<br />
experiences and projects behind him. After <strong>the</strong> death of Downing, Vaux had been<br />
able to personally revise <strong>the</strong> ideas of his old partner and friend. Without betraying<br />
<strong>the</strong> spirit underlying <strong>the</strong> first American experience, he had also dedicated himself to<br />
<strong>the</strong> publication of a book entitled Villas and Cottages (1857), which appeared to be<br />
an amalgamation of <strong>the</strong> ideas of Emerson and Ruskin.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> Central Park project, toge<strong>the</strong>r with Olmsted for whom this was his very first<br />
project, Vaux attempted to reintegrate nature into <strong>the</strong> city on <strong>the</strong> basis of<br />
principles, which <strong>the</strong> work of men, such as Henry David Thoreau or George Perkins<br />
Marsh, had disseminated. Olmsted and Vaux conceived an urban park, which was<br />
not just an unbuilt area intended as a green space to meet <strong>the</strong> recreational needs of<br />
<strong>the</strong> citizens of a large city like New York, but which was a project capable of<br />
endorsing <strong>the</strong> recognition of some of nature’s rights and <strong>the</strong> public aims of<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> design [Figures 121‐122]. The “regressive utopias”, designed at <strong>the</strong><br />
beginning of <strong>the</strong> century in both town planning and literature could be seen to have<br />
clearly evolved in <strong>the</strong> daily debate to become a political and city management<br />
problem. There was no longer space for <strong>the</strong> picturesque dreams of Downing’s Mall<br />
project [Figure 117]. Although <strong>the</strong>re were analogies between <strong>the</strong> two projects,<br />
what became clear immediately was <strong>the</strong> different conception of <strong>the</strong> relationship<br />
between city and park. Downing’s separatist project aimed to build a parallel world<br />
as an alternative to that of <strong>the</strong> city, in an attempt to soften <strong>the</strong> contradictions. The<br />
Central Park project followed <strong>the</strong> logic of an innovative style, which featured<br />
winding paths. The programmatic separation between pedestrians and carriages or<br />
for horse riding [Figure 127] implied an awareness that <strong>the</strong> city could flow into<br />
fragments of a specially created, natural and pastoral world. Having won <strong>the</strong><br />
competition, Olmsted was nominated “Architect in Chief of <strong>the</strong> Central Park”, <strong>the</strong><br />
preceding offices of head engineer and superintendant were abolished, and<br />
between 1859 and 1861 <strong>the</strong> main <strong>landscape</strong> work began.<br />
As his first job in his new office, Olmsted gave permission for Vaux and o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
assistants to be called in. The two project designers won with a project <strong>the</strong>y called<br />
158
Greensward. The 800 acres of rough land, ponds and pastures, which <strong>the</strong> city<br />
administration had made available, were transformed into a modern urban park.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> work by Vaux and above all by Olmsted represented something more,<br />
at a time when <strong>the</strong> city of New York was about to reach a decisive moment in its<br />
town planning congestion. Lewis Mumford effectively explained <strong>the</strong> significance of<br />
this effort> “[...] But Olmsted had done something more than design a park, battle<br />
with politicians ‐ he resigned at least five times – struggle with insolent and rascally<br />
city appointees, and protect his plantations against vandals: he had introduced an<br />
idea ‐ <strong>the</strong> idea of using <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> creatively. By making nature urban, he<br />
naturalised <strong>the</strong> city” 260 . In May 1863, when relationships with <strong>the</strong> park Board of<br />
Commissioners began to deteriorate due to <strong>the</strong>ir “political” interferences, Olmsted<br />
and Vaux handed in <strong>the</strong>ir resignation. On this occasion, <strong>the</strong> two designers used <strong>the</strong><br />
title of Landscape Architect in an official document for <strong>the</strong> first time. 261 From <strong>the</strong>n<br />
on until <strong>the</strong> 1870s, <strong>the</strong> intricate events to construct and manage <strong>the</strong> park only help<br />
to reconstruct <strong>the</strong> thread of events, ra<strong>the</strong>r than to really understand <strong>the</strong> project.<br />
To paraphrase some of Olmsted’s thoughts, Central Park was not an isolated event<br />
in <strong>the</strong> general context; on <strong>the</strong> contrary, it was created by a close consideration of<br />
<strong>the</strong> context which had generated it. Olmsted did not see <strong>the</strong> park as an element to<br />
correct <strong>the</strong> development of <strong>the</strong> city. Localisation and size had to depend on careful<br />
urban analyses. Olmsted began with <strong>the</strong>se thoughts in mind and continued with a<br />
very large number of projects throughout <strong>the</strong> United States. His first experiences<br />
gave rise to <strong>the</strong> idea of Parkways, green systems and <strong>landscape</strong>s designed to allow<br />
parks to communicate with each o<strong>the</strong>r and with <strong>the</strong> towns which supported<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> design interventions<br />
The Central Park project also introduced innovative ideas concerning <strong>the</strong> natural<br />
site topography, which Olmsted held in great respect. He demonstrated that <strong>the</strong><br />
260 MUMFORD, Lewis, The Brown Decades, Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1971 [first ed.<br />
1931], p. 40 (Italian translation by Francesco Dal Co, Architettura e cultura in America, dalla guerra<br />
civile all’ ultima frontiera, Venezia, Marsilio, 1977, pp.78)” […] Olmsted had done something more<br />
than design a park, battle with politicians ‐ he resigned at least five times – struggle with insolent and<br />
rascally city appointees, and protect his plantations against vandals: he had introduced an idea – <strong>the</strong><br />
idea of using <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> creatively. By making nature urbane he naturalized <strong>the</strong> city”.<br />
261 NEWTON, Norman T., Design on <strong>the</strong> Land. The Development of Landscape Architecture,<br />
Cambridge, Massachusetts, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 273<br />
159
<strong>landscape</strong> designer could intensify enjoyment of a <strong>landscape</strong> without making any<br />
radical changes and that <strong>the</strong> value of a <strong>landscape</strong> park should be appreciated as<br />
such, that is to say as an element of nature, from which to find pleasure in <strong>the</strong><br />
simpler things. In fact, <strong>the</strong> park was not a place exclusively for <strong>the</strong> “entertainment”<br />
of <strong>the</strong> crowds [Figures 125‐126], but was created by studies, which wanted to<br />
demonstrate <strong>the</strong> healthy benefits of moments of relaxation in contact with nature.<br />
The pathway effectively separated <strong>the</strong> park to create areas for pleasure, events or<br />
parades as a playground, and o<strong>the</strong>rs set aside for rest and contemplation. This idea,<br />
among o<strong>the</strong>rs, became a model for <strong>the</strong> development of o<strong>the</strong>r contemporary<br />
projects of urban planning concerning <strong>the</strong> separation of pedestrian and vehicle<br />
traffic to ensure safety and comfort. The ideology of an urban park went on to<br />
represent <strong>the</strong> basic ideals of American democracy, and at <strong>the</strong> same time became<br />
<strong>the</strong> mouthpiece of both economic and social demands, such as <strong>the</strong> suburb‐park,<br />
since <strong>landscape</strong> projects were <strong>the</strong> product of <strong>the</strong> needs of <strong>the</strong> middle class and <strong>the</strong><br />
high‐flying, American bourgeoisie. The public park retraced <strong>the</strong> experiences and<br />
passion for nature, which years earlier were within reach only of <strong>the</strong> rich aristocracy<br />
and <strong>the</strong> contemptuous pioneers.<br />
Central Park gave Olmsted a certain amount of notoriety and New York’s role as city<br />
port enabled news to travel rapidly.<br />
In <strong>the</strong> early years of <strong>the</strong> Civil War, Olmsted alternated his work in New York with <strong>the</strong><br />
role of executive director of <strong>the</strong> U.S. Sanitary Commission, engaged at <strong>the</strong> front in<br />
<strong>the</strong> Civil War on behalf of <strong>the</strong> Union. However, between 1863 and 1865, he was also<br />
to find time to go to California as land administrator for <strong>the</strong> Mariposa Mining<br />
Company, a mining company acquired by investors from New York, which was<br />
committed to <strong>the</strong> search for gold. At this point, he fine tuned his ideas as regards<br />
<strong>the</strong> protection of natural environments. Olmsted was able to witness <strong>the</strong> splendid,<br />
naturalist scenery of <strong>the</strong> Yosemite Valley, right at <strong>the</strong> historic moment in which<br />
President Lincoln signed a law (1864), which turned <strong>the</strong> Yosemite Valley and <strong>the</strong><br />
Mariposa Grove of Big Trees into a large public park. At this point too, Olmsted<br />
showed great sensitivity towards <strong>the</strong> conservation of <strong>the</strong> magnificent natural<br />
scenery he had to manage and became involved in <strong>the</strong> work by <strong>the</strong> Yosemite<br />
160
Commission, which resulted in <strong>the</strong> creation in 1872 of <strong>the</strong> Yellowstone National<br />
Park, <strong>the</strong> first Nature Reserve in <strong>the</strong> world.<br />
On his return to New York, he was to begin a profitable career as a <strong>landscape</strong><br />
designer. The Central Park project was followed by major projects, such as Prospect<br />
Park in Brooklyn (1867), Riverside Park and Morningside Park in New York (1873),<br />
Belle Isle Park in Detroit (1880s) designed toge<strong>the</strong>r with Charles Eliot (1859‐1897),<br />
one of Olmsted’s greatest apprentices, who died prematurely at <strong>the</strong> age of 38. In<br />
<strong>the</strong> final decades of <strong>the</strong> century, he was committed to <strong>the</strong> project design for<br />
Franklin Park in Boston, a large pastoral scenario, which was eventually extended<br />
into <strong>the</strong> Emerald Necklace, <strong>the</strong> system of parks, parkways and waterways designed<br />
for that same city. There was no lack of consultancy work to protect important<br />
natural areas, such as <strong>the</strong> case of <strong>the</strong> Niagara Reservation project (1885), a tourist<br />
destination easily reachable from New York. However, we will not be referring to<br />
<strong>the</strong>se projects, as <strong>the</strong>ir implications and town planning results go far beyond <strong>the</strong><br />
time limit set for this research on <strong>the</strong> birth of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and its <strong>the</strong>ories in <strong>the</strong><br />
United States.<br />
The years following <strong>the</strong> Civil War were a moment of maturity and reflection on <strong>the</strong><br />
hypo<strong>the</strong>ses which people, such as Jefferson, Downing and Olmsted, had put<br />
forward since <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century. Olmsted, who, for obvious reasons of<br />
age, ‐ he was to die in 1903‐, was <strong>the</strong> only one of <strong>the</strong>m to see <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong><br />
nineteenth century and to prepare <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> plan for <strong>the</strong> World’s Columbian<br />
Exposition in 1893. After <strong>the</strong> Civil War everything had changed. Olmsted himself<br />
had organised <strong>the</strong> office according to contemporary, professional requirements,<br />
thus losing <strong>the</strong> vitality and experimental nature he had poured into creating Central<br />
Park. The project for <strong>the</strong> Biltmore Estate (1889‐95), an enormous private estate<br />
belonging to George Washington Vanderbilt in North Carolina, looked back to <strong>the</strong><br />
models of <strong>the</strong> formal, eighteenth century, French gardens and was an insincere<br />
support of <strong>the</strong> classical style out of mere opportunism or tiredness. After his<br />
professional retirement in 1893, <strong>the</strong> firm continued its activities under <strong>the</strong> guidance<br />
161
of his two sons and of Charles Eliot. 262 However, already in <strong>the</strong> 1860s, new project<br />
designers, such as Horace Cleveland (1814‐1900) and Robert Morris Copeland<br />
(1830‐1874), had appeared on <strong>the</strong> horizon of <strong>the</strong> profession of <strong>landscape</strong> architect.<br />
The same idea of <strong>the</strong> system of parks in Boston, created by Olmsted, had been<br />
described in <strong>the</strong> analyses in Copeland’s book The Most Beautiful City in America:<br />
Essay and Plan for <strong>the</strong> Improvement of <strong>the</strong> City of Boston published in 1872.<br />
The tragic epilogue to <strong>the</strong> death of Downing recalls Olmsted’s stage exit from <strong>the</strong><br />
world of <strong>landscape</strong> project design. Downing was to see his romantic ideals<br />
shattered by a “machine”, whereas Olmsted was to live long enough to step aside<br />
and observe <strong>the</strong> triumph of <strong>landscape</strong> design bent to <strong>the</strong> academic requirements of<br />
<strong>the</strong> City Beautiful movement. His frequent professional collaboration with Henry<br />
Hobson Richardson (1838‐1886) in reality highlighted his distance from <strong>the</strong> classicist<br />
revival of <strong>the</strong> turn of <strong>the</strong> century. Ironically, <strong>the</strong> World’s Columbian Exposition in<br />
Chicago in 1893 definitively ended <strong>the</strong> fascinating careers of <strong>the</strong> two fa<strong>the</strong>rs of<br />
American <strong>landscape</strong> and architectural design. The Exhibition was a significant event<br />
from every point of view. If, on <strong>the</strong> one hand, it endorsed one of Olmsted and Louis<br />
Sullivan’s (1856‐1924) highest professional recognitions, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r it was <strong>the</strong><br />
farewell to <strong>the</strong> epic moments of <strong>the</strong> “avant‐garde”, to <strong>the</strong> times when <strong>the</strong> search<br />
was for aes<strong>the</strong>tic beauty, which would mirror America.<br />
262 The name of <strong>the</strong> firm was Olmsted, Olmsted and Eliot. After <strong>the</strong> death of Charles Eliot in 1897,<br />
Olmsted’s two stepbro<strong>the</strong>rs, John Charles Olmsted (1852‐1920) and Frederick Law Olmsted Jr.<br />
(1870‐1957), founded <strong>the</strong> firm Olmsted Bro<strong>the</strong>rs, which remained in operation until 1980.<br />
162
Figure 121- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, bird view of Central Park, 1860<br />
(Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 122- Right: Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Hinrichs’ guide map of <strong>the</strong> Central<br />
Park, 1875 (Library of Congress Geography and Map Division Washington)
Figure 123- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Central Park<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 124- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Central Park<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 125- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, “Ornamental” sheeps in Central Park<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)<br />
Figure 126- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Central Park, a grass fi eld used for tennis<br />
courts (Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 127- Frederick Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Central Park. Note <strong>the</strong> walkway for pedestrian,<br />
near <strong>the</strong> Lake and in foregorund <strong>the</strong> road for carriages<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
The Wilderness, The Westland and <strong>the</strong> Significance of <strong>the</strong> Frontier<br />
When Alexis de Tocqueville (1805‐1859) went to America in 1831 to carry out a<br />
survey on <strong>the</strong> American penitentiary and judiciary regime, many of <strong>the</strong> initiatives<br />
and experiments described in <strong>the</strong> preceding pages had not yet been completed. The<br />
first part of <strong>the</strong> account of his journey was published a few years later in his book<br />
De la démocratie en Amérique (1835). Tocqueville did not merely analyse <strong>the</strong><br />
complexity of America, he also attempted to face his task with a modest spirit of<br />
comparison, by comparing <strong>the</strong> American institutions and context with similar<br />
French situations.<br />
Tocqueville saw a prevalently agrarian nation, in which <strong>the</strong> towns were scarcely<br />
populated and large areas were being colonised, as <strong>the</strong> United States had greatly<br />
expanded its territories, starting from <strong>the</strong> date of <strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence.<br />
His careful study of <strong>the</strong> democratic institutions, <strong>the</strong> social policies in place and <strong>the</strong><br />
culture of <strong>the</strong> period enabled him to put forward a few hypo<strong>the</strong>ses regarding <strong>the</strong><br />
future of <strong>the</strong> newly founded Republic. It was immediately clear to Tocqueville that<br />
<strong>the</strong> destiny of <strong>the</strong> American nation was to take “equality of conditions” to <strong>the</strong> lands<br />
of <strong>the</strong> Far West, to territories where objects and ideas could circulate freely.<br />
With great perspicacity Tocqueville observed <strong>the</strong> effects of <strong>the</strong> internal<br />
improvements [Figures 74‐81] and correctly prophesied a large increase in <strong>the</strong><br />
population. He sensed <strong>the</strong> inhabitants’ commercial ambitions and summed up <strong>the</strong><br />
striking features of those years in but a few words: “The post, that great instrument<br />
of intellectual intercourse, now reaches into <strong>the</strong> backwoods; and steamboats have<br />
established daily means of communication between <strong>the</strong> different points of <strong>the</strong><br />
coast. An inland navigation of unexampled rapidity conveys commodities up and<br />
down <strong>the</strong> rivers of <strong>the</strong> country” 263 . Tocqueville had summarised <strong>the</strong> first immaterial<br />
and partly folklorist traits, which made up <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> frontier.<br />
If <strong>the</strong> agricultural <strong>landscape</strong>s and <strong>the</strong> industrial economy of <strong>the</strong> water and woods<br />
period represented <strong>the</strong> effort to exploit <strong>the</strong> unexplored territories, <strong>the</strong> frontier was<br />
263 TOCQUEVILLE, Alexis de, De la democrazie en Amerique, Paris, 1835‐1840 (English translation by<br />
Henry Reeve, Democracy in America, New York, The Colonial Press, 1900, vol1, p. 411) (Italian<br />
translation La Democrazia in America, edited by Giorgio Candeloro, Milano, Rizzoli, 2010, p. 380)<br />
163
<strong>the</strong> true “line” of change. The importance of <strong>the</strong> relationship between man and <strong>the</strong><br />
wilderness proved fundamental to harmonise <strong>the</strong> ideas that led to <strong>the</strong> creation of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Conservation Movement and to <strong>the</strong> affirmation of interest to protect naturalist<br />
scenarios and contexts [Figure 128].<br />
The first men to enter into contact with <strong>the</strong> wild regions of <strong>the</strong> West were explorers<br />
and hunters, who were followed by <strong>the</strong> mass of farmers and those who were<br />
looking to make an easy fortune. The explorers of <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century, such<br />
as Alexander Mackenzie (1764‐1820), who attempted to find <strong>the</strong> North‐West<br />
passage in 1789, or Lewis and Clark, had various kinds of scientific purposes.<br />
The main reason for <strong>the</strong> expeditions was to explore <strong>the</strong> territories in order to make<br />
reliable topographical maps, especially measurements. Complementary interests of<br />
<strong>the</strong> expeditions were concerned with botany, geology and <strong>the</strong> study of <strong>the</strong> Indian<br />
tribes. The explorers were funded by politics (<strong>the</strong> expedition by Lewis and Clark was<br />
actively sponsored by Jefferson) and supported by <strong>the</strong> army. For this reason <strong>the</strong>y<br />
had to report on <strong>the</strong> economic potential of <strong>the</strong> areas <strong>the</strong>y crossed, find <strong>the</strong> easiest<br />
roads to cross <strong>the</strong> interior towards <strong>the</strong> Pacific coast and assess <strong>the</strong> presence of<br />
foreign colonies (especially French).<br />
Later, after <strong>the</strong> 1850s, <strong>the</strong> expeditions became decidedly more scientific and<br />
military in tone, and expert photographers joined <strong>the</strong> expeditions to play a<br />
fundamental role in <strong>the</strong> process to construct <strong>the</strong> nation. The spectacular <strong>landscape</strong>s<br />
of <strong>the</strong> desert and canyons, <strong>the</strong> Niagara Falls and <strong>the</strong> sequoias of <strong>the</strong> Yosemite Valley<br />
became <strong>the</strong> icons of <strong>the</strong> varied, natural scenes of America. Not by chance did <strong>the</strong>se<br />
images identify <strong>the</strong> United States both as a nation and as a cultural entity reflected<br />
in <strong>the</strong>m, whereas <strong>the</strong>y only later became tourist symbols for <strong>the</strong>ir respective states.<br />
We know much less about <strong>the</strong> so‐called Mountain Men, <strong>the</strong> first pioneers who lived<br />
in log cabins and survived by hunting in order to trade skins. These men were <strong>the</strong><br />
only points of contact between <strong>the</strong> unexplored territories, <strong>the</strong> true area of <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier, and <strong>the</strong> civilised settlements on <strong>the</strong> Atlantic coast.<br />
Of all <strong>the</strong> stories of <strong>the</strong> frontier, <strong>the</strong> one that became a legend was about Ashley’s<br />
Hundred, who met in 1822 in St. Louis and under <strong>the</strong> guidance of William Henry<br />
Ashley (?‐1838) left for <strong>the</strong> source of <strong>the</strong> River Mississippi. They organised a<br />
164
profitable, annual rendezvous between hunters, Indians and explorers to exchange<br />
goods, skins and necessities.<br />
The problem of trade regulations was undoubtedly <strong>the</strong> motivating factor for <strong>the</strong><br />
expansion towards <strong>the</strong> West. At first, at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century, <strong>the</strong><br />
settlers in search of fortune and better living conditions ventured into <strong>the</strong> regions<br />
fur<strong>the</strong>st inland, so as not to have to depend on <strong>the</strong> instability and volatility of <strong>the</strong><br />
foreign market, regulated by strict, unilateral restrictions imposed by <strong>the</strong> United<br />
Kingdom. This stage of <strong>the</strong> internal emigration from <strong>the</strong> coast westwards (<strong>the</strong><br />
phenomenon was as yet isolated, based on individual initiative) represented a<br />
moral alternative ra<strong>the</strong>r than a real, economic solution to <strong>the</strong> political whims of <strong>the</strong><br />
homeland (in particular to <strong>the</strong> events around <strong>the</strong> so‐called Boston tea Party in 1773,<br />
which sparked protests against oppressive, British taxation). With <strong>the</strong> arrival of<br />
independence many things changed. The migratory flows at first supported <strong>the</strong><br />
process of agricultural development, <strong>the</strong>n, towards <strong>the</strong> 1860s <strong>the</strong>y became a<br />
relentless phenomenon.<br />
The epic of <strong>the</strong> frontier [Figures 128‐132] was a crucial process in <strong>the</strong> logic of <strong>the</strong><br />
construction of <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>. However, <strong>the</strong> aes<strong>the</strong>tic implications of <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier and exploratory expeditions were devised intellectually and culturally only<br />
thanks to <strong>the</strong> land and gold rush, as Olmsted’s experience in <strong>the</strong> Yosemite Valley in<br />
California shows.<br />
If <strong>the</strong> scientific explorations brought <strong>the</strong> experts face to face with <strong>the</strong> geological and<br />
botanical marvels of <strong>the</strong> American continent, <strong>the</strong> predatory mechanisms sparked by<br />
<strong>the</strong> rush for land and gold also created a broader awareness of <strong>the</strong> restrictions and<br />
precariousness of some natural resources, which it was decided needed protection<br />
Frederick Jackson Turner (1861‐1932), <strong>the</strong> historian who idealised and summarised<br />
<strong>the</strong> “tradition” of <strong>the</strong> frontier and <strong>the</strong> expansionist movement in <strong>the</strong> USA, founded<br />
his <strong>the</strong>ories on this consideration. Turner realised that <strong>the</strong> frontier represented an<br />
unusual trait, which was not easily found in o<strong>the</strong>r historical contexts. His Frontier<br />
Thesis, held to be <strong>the</strong> Declaration of Independence of American historians, was<br />
revised within <strong>the</strong> essay The Significance of <strong>the</strong> Frontier in American History,<br />
published in 1893 as <strong>the</strong> text for a conference held by <strong>the</strong> American Historical<br />
165
Association, during <strong>the</strong> World’s Columbian Exposition of Chicago. Turner thought<br />
<strong>the</strong> frontier was <strong>the</strong> organising principle to interpret American history, a principle<br />
with which he identified <strong>the</strong> most important American cultural experiences.<br />
Whatever <strong>the</strong> limits of his interpretation may be, he clarified Melville’s intuitions<br />
from a historiographic point of view and purged <strong>the</strong> mystical inclination towards a<br />
“promised land” from <strong>the</strong> analysis which had been made.<br />
In Turner’s ideology, <strong>the</strong> frontier represented <strong>the</strong> very history of colonisation and<br />
he identified himself with <strong>the</strong> expansion into <strong>the</strong> wild spaces of <strong>the</strong> West [Figure<br />
128].<br />
However, at this point, <strong>the</strong> term frontier took on a ra<strong>the</strong>r special meaning, which<br />
detached itself from <strong>the</strong> idea held by <strong>the</strong> inhabitants of European countries.<br />
Whereas many people of various origins use <strong>the</strong> word as a synonym for boundary<br />
between one nation and ano<strong>the</strong>r, intending barrier of passage, <strong>the</strong> word Frontier<br />
has taken on a substantially different meaning in American life and <strong>the</strong> American<br />
language. The frontier, as Walter Prescott Webb (1888‐1963), one of Turner’s most<br />
well‐known pupils, sustained, is not a line to stop at, but ra<strong>the</strong>r an area in which to<br />
enter.<br />
A quick look in an American dictionary will confirm <strong>the</strong> argument that <strong>the</strong> frontier is<br />
first and foremost a region, an area defined as being sparsely populated, in contact<br />
with <strong>the</strong> wilderness or territories, which were nei<strong>the</strong>r inhabited nor colonised. For<br />
this reason <strong>the</strong> term is rarely used in <strong>the</strong> USA with o<strong>the</strong>r meanings. Whoever<br />
mentioned <strong>the</strong> word frontier was aware that <strong>the</strong>re was no rigid boundary around<br />
<strong>the</strong> colonial settlements, unless during a conflict of war. There was, however,<br />
available, open space.<br />
The innovation of Turner’s <strong>the</strong>sis consisted in having placed extreme importance in<br />
<strong>the</strong> ideas expressed by <strong>the</strong> frontier, and at <strong>the</strong> same time in having distanced<br />
himself from <strong>the</strong> historiographic schools of <strong>the</strong> same period, according to whom,<br />
<strong>the</strong> first task of <strong>the</strong> historian was to identify <strong>the</strong> “germs” of American institutions<br />
and to retrace <strong>the</strong>ir origins in <strong>the</strong>ir respective, European, social structures.<br />
Turner, on <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, identified <strong>the</strong> structure of American institutions as being<br />
<strong>the</strong> result of a reciprocal process of adaptation between man and <strong>the</strong> uncivilised<br />
166
environment. In o<strong>the</strong>r words, <strong>the</strong> American man also found <strong>the</strong> means to organise<br />
himself into a society by submitting and adapting to nature. Nature in Turner’s idea<br />
is <strong>the</strong> element, which has tempered and formed <strong>the</strong> modern American:<br />
The frontier is <strong>the</strong> line of most rapid and effective Americanization. The<br />
wilderness masters <strong>the</strong> colonist. It finds him a European in dress,<br />
industries, tools, modes of travel, and thought. It takes him from <strong>the</strong><br />
railroad car and puts him in <strong>the</strong> birch canoe. It strips off <strong>the</strong> garments of<br />
civilization and arrays him in <strong>the</strong> hunting shirt and <strong>the</strong> moccasin. It puts<br />
him in <strong>the</strong> log cabin of <strong>the</strong> Cherokee and Iroquois and runs an Indian<br />
palisade around him. Before long he has gone to planting Indian corn<br />
and plowing with a sharp stick; he shouts <strong>the</strong> war cry and takes <strong>the</strong> scalp<br />
in orthodox Indian fashion. In short, at <strong>the</strong> frontier <strong>the</strong> environment is at<br />
first too strong for <strong>the</strong> man. He must accept <strong>the</strong> conditions which it<br />
furnishes, or perish, and so he fits himself into <strong>the</strong> Indian clearings and<br />
follows <strong>the</strong> Indian trails. Little by little he transforms <strong>the</strong> wilderness, but<br />
<strong>the</strong> outcome is not <strong>the</strong> old Europe, not simply <strong>the</strong> development of<br />
Germanic germs, any more than <strong>the</strong> first phenomenon was a case of<br />
reversion to <strong>the</strong> Germanic mark. The fact is that here is a new product<br />
that is American. 264<br />
The significance of <strong>the</strong> frontier was expressed especially by <strong>the</strong> forces of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> and of nature, and from here a different approach arose as well as a<br />
different idealisation of nature and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> from those of Europeans.<br />
The American town, as we have seen, also represented a fur<strong>the</strong>r piece in this<br />
process. It created a sort of dialectic link with nature and somehow became <strong>the</strong><br />
fruit of an unstable process, as it was continually evolving. Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> frontier<br />
not only implied close contact with <strong>the</strong> wilderness, but its many‐sided nature<br />
contained a project for progress and civilisation. The stage of conquest was<br />
followed by one of exploitation [Figures 130‐134].<br />
When Turner worked out his <strong>the</strong>sis in 1893, “<strong>the</strong> frontier”, according to an<br />
interpretation given by <strong>the</strong> census offices ‐ a territory inhabited by fewer than two<br />
inhabitants per square mile‐ had been declared closed just three years before, but<br />
<strong>the</strong> power of his reflection was stronger than a simple interpretation of events,<br />
which had long since been banished to <strong>the</strong> past. He was capable of providing a key<br />
264 TURNER, Frederick Jackson, The Frontier in American History, New York, Henry Holt and Company,<br />
1920 [first ed. 1893], pp. 3‐4 (Italian translation La frontiera nella storia <strong>american</strong>a, Bologna, Il<br />
Mulino, 1975, pp. 33‐34)<br />
167
to its interpretation, which would also be applicable in <strong>the</strong> decades to come of <strong>the</strong><br />
twentieth century. In Turner’s interpretation, <strong>the</strong> frontier was not a question of<br />
customs or attitudes, but ra<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> essence of <strong>the</strong> American Weltanschauung,<br />
which could even be applied to <strong>the</strong> processes of capitalist, military (how many wars<br />
have been declared to “export” democracy), political (all <strong>the</strong> aid given to allied<br />
foreign governments), and scientific (<strong>the</strong> race into space) expansion of <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States. That is to say, that <strong>the</strong> suppositions will also reverberate in extremely<br />
contemporary processes.<br />
The well‐known exhortation by Horace Greeley published in 1865 in <strong>the</strong> New York<br />
Tribune: “Go West, young man, go West and grow up with <strong>the</strong> country” should be<br />
interpreted in <strong>the</strong>se terms, in <strong>the</strong> wide meaning of a life model [Figure 130].<br />
Greeley’s thought was not merely <strong>the</strong> logical consequence of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories of<br />
manifest destiny and <strong>the</strong> solemn advance of <strong>the</strong> frontier [Figure 88]. It followed in<br />
<strong>the</strong> steps of <strong>the</strong> Homestead Act of 1862, a legislative measure passed by President<br />
Abraham Lincoln (1809‐1865) in <strong>the</strong> middle of <strong>the</strong> Civil War, aiming to resolve <strong>the</strong><br />
mechanisms of land distribution. The law envisaged three stages for <strong>the</strong> award of<br />
160 free acres, a quarter of a section, in <strong>the</strong> wild lands beyond <strong>the</strong> boundaries of<br />
<strong>the</strong> original thirteen colonies. The first action consisted in a formal request for a<br />
piece of federal land, <strong>the</strong> second passage was <strong>the</strong> commitment to improve <strong>the</strong><br />
lands awarded by labour, agriculture and stock‐breeding and <strong>the</strong> third stage<br />
endorsed <strong>the</strong> obtaining of <strong>the</strong> title deed, once <strong>the</strong> second stage had been verified.<br />
This policy emanated <strong>the</strong> ideas of <strong>the</strong> Free Soil Party, in opposition to <strong>the</strong> large<br />
landowners of <strong>the</strong> South, who were thus penalised in favour of those making <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
first request. The law met with ample success in spite of <strong>the</strong> fact that it had not<br />
foreseen <strong>the</strong> procedures to access water resources, which was <strong>the</strong> cause of a high<br />
degree of failure in <strong>the</strong> attempts to occupy <strong>the</strong> land. Over time, <strong>the</strong> mechanism was<br />
perfected and on various occasions real land rushes were organised, <strong>the</strong> last being<br />
in Oklahoma in 1889. Those taking part in <strong>the</strong> land rush ga<strong>the</strong>red in a prefixed<br />
location, where a cannon gave <strong>the</strong> signal to start. At <strong>the</strong> start, everyone leapt<br />
forward in <strong>the</strong> hope of reaching <strong>the</strong> best lots, while <strong>the</strong> army patrolled <strong>the</strong> territory<br />
in an attempt to avoid fraud and o<strong>the</strong>r crimes.<br />
168
Numerous pictures of <strong>the</strong>se events exist, but it was <strong>the</strong> artist, John Stewart Curry<br />
(1897‐1946), who has left us a plausible, but ra<strong>the</strong>r extrovert version of <strong>the</strong>se<br />
events, in a painting of <strong>the</strong> Oklahoma land rush as a moment of collective<br />
exhibitionism and a rush towards dreams, which were often shattered by inability<br />
or difficulties.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> frontier <strong>landscape</strong> [Figures 128‐129] was not merely a longing for<br />
fortune, thought o be found placed in land or in gold, and <strong>the</strong> people who lived<br />
<strong>the</strong>re did not even mirror <strong>the</strong> simplistic image of Indians and gun fighters portrayed<br />
by <strong>the</strong> “dime novels”. There was also space for moments of contemplation and<br />
reflection. It was in <strong>the</strong> first half of <strong>the</strong> century that <strong>the</strong> habit began of stopping <strong>the</strong><br />
train on viaducts, such as <strong>the</strong> Starrucca (1848), to allow passengers and tourists to<br />
admire <strong>the</strong> view.<br />
The Starrucca viaduct was a major railroad infrastructure of <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century,<br />
built near Lanesboro, Pennsylvania, which was to become a well‐known subject of<br />
paintings thanks to its considerable size. With a framework over 300m‐long,<br />
standing on seventeen stone arches, it immediately became <strong>the</strong> symbol of progress.<br />
As Nicoletta Leonardi has highlighted “it became an unfailing step in <strong>the</strong> growing<br />
tourist industry, which was developing as a result of <strong>the</strong> rapid advance of <strong>the</strong><br />
railroad.” 265<br />
Before <strong>the</strong> steam engine was invented, “<strong>the</strong> invention of <strong>the</strong> horse” could not really<br />
support ei<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong> desire to get to know and explore new territories, or <strong>the</strong><br />
expansionist push which followed <strong>the</strong> first moves towards <strong>the</strong> Pacific coast. The<br />
Pony Express and stagecoaches were soon replaced by <strong>the</strong> telegraph and railroad,<br />
which began to score <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> in long straight lines.<br />
Never<strong>the</strong>less, if <strong>the</strong> means of transport par excellence was <strong>the</strong> machine, <strong>the</strong> real<br />
object of interest was inevitably <strong>the</strong> uncontaminated environment of <strong>the</strong> American<br />
forests.<br />
In a continually evolving situation such as <strong>the</strong> one described, <strong>the</strong> sublimation of<br />
nature and <strong>the</strong> wilderness was mainly due to <strong>the</strong> work of artists, whom <strong>the</strong> new<br />
265 LEONARDI, Nicoletta, Il paesaggio <strong>american</strong>o dell’Ottocento, pittori fotografi e pubblico, [The<br />
American <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, painters, photographers and <strong>the</strong> public] Rome,<br />
Donzelli editore, 2003, p. 37 [English text translated from Italian by <strong>the</strong> editor]<br />
169
means of transport allowed to come in to contact with <strong>the</strong>se scenes and make <strong>the</strong>m<br />
famous. As a result, a shared desire arose to artistically celebrate <strong>the</strong>se<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s. 266<br />
The first steps in this direction were taken by George Catlin (1796‐1872), an artist<br />
who devoted his entire life to <strong>the</strong> study of Indian culture and life beyond <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier. This trend was subsequently confirmed by painters of <strong>the</strong> Hudson River<br />
School, such Thomas Cole (1801‐1848) and Frederic Church (1826‐1900), who<br />
identified <strong>the</strong> natural environment as <strong>the</strong>ir preferred subject and painted it in a<br />
cultured style, open to academic influence.<br />
Nature became an element of national identity and, as <strong>the</strong> historian Perry Miller<br />
explained, <strong>the</strong> United States became “Nature’s Nation”. 267<br />
It was no mere chance that for many years <strong>the</strong> United States worked on an idea of<br />
mystic union between religion, nature and politics, 268 and proved to be a bubble of<br />
resistance towards accepting Darwin’s <strong>the</strong>ories, presented in 1859 in The Origin of<br />
Species. The Walden Experiment by Henry David Thoreau must also have been<br />
interpreted with <strong>the</strong> logic of a search for a sincere bond between man and nature.<br />
When Thoreau printed his book Walden, or Life in <strong>the</strong> Woods (1854), in which he<br />
spoke of his life experience in a cabin built in <strong>the</strong> woods near Concord, he did<br />
restrict himself to drawing up a descriptive account of his adventures. As Lewis<br />
Mumford carefully observed, he was able to look at <strong>the</strong> natural environment in a<br />
sensitive and refined manner at a time when colonisation had focused its attention<br />
only on those elements of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> linked to profit [Figures 133‐134] (search<br />
for places to develop, mines, gold and forests for <strong>the</strong>ir wood): “In Thoreau, <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> was at last entering into <strong>the</strong> American’s consciousness, no longer as<br />
266 See CZESTOCHOWSKI, Joseph S., The American Landscape Tradition, a study and gallery of<br />
paintings, New York, Dutton, 1982<br />
267 See MILLER, Perry, Nature’s Nation, Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Mass.,<br />
1967<br />
268 LEONARDI, Nicoletta, Il paesaggio <strong>american</strong>o dell’Ottocento, pittori fotografi e pubblico, [The<br />
American <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century, painters, photographers and <strong>the</strong> public] Rome,<br />
Donzelli editor, 2003, pp.42‐46<br />
170
potential quarter sections, no longer as dedicated to a republican<br />
form of government, but as an inner treasure” 269 .<br />
The substantial difference between Emerson and Thoreau consisted precisely of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>the</strong>oretical need practised by Thoreau to be a free, “natural” man, almost an<br />
oriental ascetic. Thoreau’s teaching, as his writings in Walden proved, aimed to<br />
educate a man, who would become able to understand <strong>the</strong> environment he lived in,<br />
in <strong>the</strong> hope of being able to preserve it.<br />
Whereas for Emerson “nature is transcendental”, in <strong>the</strong> sense that <strong>the</strong> elements of<br />
<strong>the</strong> natural world set up a sort of religious deism, for Thoreau <strong>the</strong> approach to<br />
nature was not motivated simply by moral demands, but ra<strong>the</strong>r by a practical<br />
intransigence, by a barely concealed objective to prove he was not involved in <strong>the</strong><br />
habits of <strong>the</strong> masses. He covered his own behaviour with political and social<br />
importance and presented <strong>the</strong> latter as irritating actions of “civil disobedience”. The<br />
amazement, with which he described his approach to <strong>the</strong> plant and animal world,<br />
showed that his experience of living in <strong>the</strong> woods had nothing to do with satisfying<br />
a personal inclination, but ra<strong>the</strong>r it put into practice <strong>the</strong> old philosophic motto<br />
. Thus, Thoreau’s tales are always a metaphor for something<br />
else. His forays into unexplored territories and his contacts with wild animals also<br />
alluded to an exploration into <strong>the</strong> twists and turns of his own ego. His objective was<br />
to indicate to his contemporaries <strong>the</strong> intellectual stimuli offered by <strong>the</strong><br />
environment by rediscovering <strong>the</strong> natural heritage, which technological and<br />
scientific progress had ignored and hidden. On <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r hand, <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories of<br />
George Perkins Marsh (1801‐1882), expressed in Man and Nature (1864), an<br />
extremely original geographic and scientific investigation, echoed Thoreau’s<br />
philosophical reflections. In this work, Marsh dealt with <strong>the</strong> planet which he<br />
conceived as an environment for man to fulfil his tasks. The radicalism of this <strong>the</strong>sis,<br />
as Mumford so brilliantly highlighted, was <strong>the</strong> innovative idea towards man, who<br />
was compared to a sort of active geological agent, capable of creating and<br />
destroying, of influencing nature to <strong>the</strong> point of putting his own existence into<br />
269 MUMFORD, Lewis, The Brown Decades, Harcourt, Brace and Company, New York, 1931, p.31<br />
(Italian translation edited by Francesco Dal Co, Architettura e cultura in America, dalla guerra civile<br />
all’ultima frontiera, Venezia, Marsilio, 1977, p. 68)<br />
171
danger. This reasoning gave rise to a specific chapter within <strong>the</strong> pages of Man and<br />
Nature, dedicated to <strong>the</strong> importance of conserving <strong>the</strong> physical aspects of <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>. Thus, Marsh fired <strong>the</strong> budding feelings aiming to protect <strong>the</strong> natural<br />
environment.<br />
The various cultural influences, to which <strong>the</strong> Americans were subject, created a<br />
specific, intellectual processing of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, 270 <strong>the</strong> practical results of which<br />
turned into precise, political action. It was no mere chance that <strong>the</strong> measures in<br />
favour of <strong>the</strong> institution of <strong>the</strong> first American national parks followed <strong>the</strong><br />
publication of texts, such as those of Thoreau and Marsh, at <strong>the</strong> same time as<br />
Olmsted’s first landscaping operations.<br />
However, attention to nature arose from very different suppositions from those<br />
worrying <strong>the</strong> Europeans. Paolo D’Angelo, a lecturer in aes<strong>the</strong>tics and attentive<br />
enthusiast for <strong>landscape</strong> topics, has recently highlighted how <strong>the</strong> love for nature,<br />
which had developed during <strong>the</strong> eighteenth century in America, had encouraged an<br />
interest in <strong>the</strong> physical and biological aspects of <strong>the</strong> environment:<br />
The ideal of <strong>the</strong> Wilderness fairly soon produced <strong>the</strong> consecration of<br />
wide, untouched spaces as <strong>the</strong> heart and symbol of <strong>the</strong> Nation [...]. The<br />
presence of very large, spaces untouched by man, and at <strong>the</strong> same time<br />
<strong>the</strong> strong push to colonise and cultivate enormous territories created<br />
concern for wild nature which, for a long time at least, found no<br />
verification this side of <strong>the</strong> Atlantic. In fact, in Europe <strong>the</strong> love for nature<br />
began as love for <strong>the</strong> beauty of nature, for <strong>the</strong> interweaving of history<br />
and nature, or of nature and culture. From <strong>the</strong> moment it became <strong>the</strong><br />
object of public intervention, under <strong>the</strong> first protection laws, <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> of our continent was a cultural <strong>landscape</strong> that is a <strong>landscape</strong><br />
steeped in historic, literary and artistic memories. 271<br />
The natural scenes of <strong>the</strong> Atlantic states soon became tourist destinations, where it<br />
was possible to observe what artists were trying to immortalise to <strong>the</strong>ir best artistic<br />
and technical ability For example; <strong>the</strong> American success of <strong>the</strong> techniques of <strong>the</strong><br />
diorama and panorama is symptomatic of <strong>the</strong> role played by <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and by<br />
270 See SCHAMA, Simon, Landscape and memory, London, Harper Collins, 1995 (it. tr. by Paola<br />
Mazzarelli, Paesaggio e memoria, Milan, Mondadori, 1997)<br />
271 D’ANGELO, Paolo, Filosofia del Paesaggio, [Philosophy of <strong>the</strong> Landscape] Quodlibet, Macerata,<br />
2010, p.26<br />
172
<strong>the</strong> influence of nature. The illusory realism usually produced by large works fired<br />
public curiosity and spread <strong>the</strong> values considered nowadays as ecological.<br />
However, <strong>the</strong> sceneries of New England belonged to <strong>the</strong> artists, those of <strong>the</strong> West<br />
were spaces privileged by photographers. Knowledge of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> of <strong>the</strong><br />
frontier was consolidated, in fact, by <strong>the</strong> technical evolution and by <strong>the</strong> introduction<br />
of stereometric photography which, from halfway through <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century<br />
onwards, began to support exploratory expeditions.<br />
Thanks to <strong>the</strong>ir rapid diffusion, photographs were not restricted to scientific<br />
documents or support for cartography, but became true means of communication<br />
of an aes<strong>the</strong>tics, which presented <strong>the</strong> general public with <strong>the</strong> opportunity to<br />
contemplate <strong>the</strong> conquest of <strong>the</strong> West through its <strong>landscape</strong> and fired <strong>the</strong> creation<br />
of a national spirit. The partnership begun at <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> 1860s between <strong>the</strong><br />
geologist Clarence King (1842‐1901) and <strong>the</strong> photographer Timothy O’Sullivan<br />
(1840‐1882) during <strong>the</strong> expedition along one of <strong>the</strong> transcontinental routes to<br />
territories between <strong>the</strong> Sierra Nevada and <strong>the</strong> Rocky Mountains, was indicative of<br />
what has been said so far. O’Sullivan’s photographs not only removed <strong>the</strong> symbolic<br />
world of maps from an arbitrary interpretation, but above all <strong>the</strong>y made all <strong>the</strong><br />
operations to give <strong>the</strong> explored territories precise and immediately verifiable<br />
topographical names. They also became a useful tool to divulge <strong>the</strong> results of <strong>the</strong><br />
expeditions. The realism of <strong>the</strong> photograph, capable of rapidly immortalising <strong>the</strong><br />
subject from different viewpoints, gave <strong>the</strong> observer an emotional charge which<br />
gave <strong>the</strong> illusion of <strong>the</strong> journey.<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, <strong>the</strong> tragic nature represented by some <strong>landscape</strong> aspects of <strong>the</strong><br />
territories that had been crossed increased interest in <strong>the</strong> Wild West, and even fired<br />
some popular catastrophic convictions about <strong>the</strong> origin of <strong>the</strong> world.<br />
The vision of wide <strong>landscape</strong>s certainly influenced those who were in direct contact,<br />
but it probably influenced even more strongly those who had never had a chance of<br />
living at <strong>the</strong> frontier and of going through <strong>the</strong> anguish of <strong>the</strong> precarious existence<br />
transmitted by an environment, which had, until a short time before, been<br />
uncontaminated.<br />
173
The Wilderness and <strong>the</strong> frontier, despite <strong>the</strong> harsh living conditions <strong>the</strong>y offered,<br />
were more than simple territories far from <strong>the</strong> civilised world, and were not real<br />
barriers ei<strong>the</strong>r to “manifest destiny” or to <strong>the</strong> advance of progress. On <strong>the</strong> contrary,<br />
<strong>the</strong>y became something familiar, in which ordinary observers and daring explorers<br />
could identify <strong>the</strong>mselves.<br />
This wide, cultural picture stimulated <strong>the</strong> idea that nature was not only an<br />
accessible, but was also an extremely varied world. Basically, American nature was,<br />
at <strong>the</strong> same time, both an intellectual food and economic resource to be consumed.<br />
These two visions were never really in complete contrast with each to each o<strong>the</strong>r;<br />
on <strong>the</strong> contrary, each one generated <strong>the</strong> o<strong>the</strong>r [Figures 128‐134].<br />
174
Figure 128- Herd of bison, near Lake Jessie (John Mix Stanley; Sarony, Major & Knapp Liths.<br />
449 Broadway, N.Y.), 1855<br />
Print shows a large herd of bison on a prairie.<br />
Illus. from: U.S. Pacifi c railroad explorations and surveys, 47th & 49th Parallels. General<br />
Report / U.S. Army, Corps of Topographical Engineers. House executive document 129, 33rd<br />
Congress, 1st session, plate X.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 129- The Food of our Youth (1881)<br />
Print shows a mean-spirited infant boy in a cradle labeled “Infant Indian Exterminators”, armed<br />
with a rifl e, knives, and handguns, feeding from a large bottle fi lled with “Dime Novel” and<br />
“5 ct. Paper[back]” literature, with o<strong>the</strong>r action and adventure books about “Pirates” and an<br />
“Indian Killer” on <strong>the</strong> fl oor around <strong>the</strong> cradle.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 130- Missouri Pacifi c or Atlanta & Pacifi c railroad Advertising sheet, 186?<br />
In 1860s <strong>the</strong> frontier line is in <strong>the</strong> Midwest.<br />
(Library of Congress Rare Book and Special Collection Division Washington, D.C)<br />
Figure 131- Missouri Pacifi c or Atlanta & Pacifi c railroad Advertising sheet, 186?<br />
In 1860s <strong>the</strong> frontier line is in <strong>the</strong> Midwest.<br />
(Library of Congress Rare Book and Special Collection Division Washington, D.C)
Figure 132- “All <strong>the</strong> West going for Matty”, 1840<br />
A Whig cartoon spoofi ng Democratic claims of Western support for Martin Van Buren during<br />
<strong>the</strong> election of 1840. Pursued by animals from <strong>the</strong> “Alleghany Mountains” and <strong>the</strong> Mississippi<br />
River, including among o<strong>the</strong>rs a buffalo, alligator, beaver, turtle, and fox, Van Buren fl ees to<br />
<strong>the</strong> right saying, “This is going for me with a vengeance! I wish I was safe at Kinderhook! [his<br />
birthplace and family home was Kinderhook, New York] for I am a used up man!” A parchment<br />
“Sub-Treasury Bill” has fallen at his feet, referring to <strong>the</strong> independent treasury plan, <strong>the</strong> centerpiece<br />
of Van Buren’s fi scal program.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 133- The far west - shooting buffalo on <strong>the</strong> line of <strong>the</strong> Kansas-Pacifi c Railroad, Frank<br />
Leslie’s illustrated newspaper, v. 32, no. 818 (1871 June 3), p. 193; Print shows hunters shooting<br />
at a herd of bison from a train and along <strong>the</strong> tracks.<br />
(Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.)
Figure 134- A pile of American Bison skulls waiting to be ground for fertilizer<br />
photographer unknown, mid-1870s<br />
(Burton Historical Collection/Detroit Public Library)
Conclusion<br />
The Independence of <strong>the</strong> United States of America and <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> Civil War<br />
mark <strong>the</strong> approximate chronological extent of this research, even though a few<br />
“incursions” into more recent years have been proposed. The decades under<br />
examination were analysed with <strong>the</strong> intention of providing a general view of <strong>the</strong><br />
problems concerning <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> and <strong>the</strong> major transformations of American<br />
<strong>landscape</strong>s and towns.<br />
Although we have not dwelt too long on each individual aspect, or on any one<br />
protagonist in particular, <strong>the</strong> difficult lay in giving <strong>the</strong> correct importance to <strong>the</strong><br />
events, <strong>landscape</strong>s, architecture and project designers, who have contributed to<br />
this historic and critical account. If some aspects, which could have played a role in<br />
a monographic research, have been omitted, it has been done consciously, for<br />
various reasons. First and foremost, <strong>the</strong> reconstruction of <strong>the</strong> general climate of<br />
American interest towards <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> would have been affected, and secondly,<br />
specific details have already been dealt with by o<strong>the</strong>r scholars. What emerges from<br />
this way of proceeding is <strong>the</strong> pervasive level of some of <strong>the</strong> ideas regarding <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong>, born in nineteenth century America, which appear extremely fascinating<br />
and engrossing to European eyes.<br />
Fur<strong>the</strong>rmore, it must be added that we believe <strong>the</strong> attempt to describe <strong>the</strong>se first<br />
experiences of <strong>landscape</strong> may contribute to providing new keys to <strong>the</strong><br />
understanding of more contemporary projects. We wished to demonstrate in<br />
particular that <strong>the</strong> work of anonymous pioneers and <strong>the</strong> courage of minor<br />
protagonists, which made those events unique, should be placed side by side with<br />
<strong>the</strong> great fa<strong>the</strong>rs of <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>, such as Olmsted and Downing, The<br />
history of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, perhaps even more than <strong>the</strong> history of architecture, is a<br />
form of observation, which requires <strong>the</strong> study of <strong>the</strong> processes of industrial,<br />
agricultural, infrastructural, architectural and <strong>the</strong>oretical renewal, without which it<br />
would be difficult to understand <strong>the</strong> development and evolution of <strong>the</strong><br />
“construction of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>”. Thinking back to <strong>the</strong> events described undoubtedly<br />
leaves us a precise message. The birth of <strong>the</strong> modern, ecological and landscaping<br />
175
conscience, to which <strong>the</strong> mass media often refer to, is not a recent matter. On <strong>the</strong><br />
contrary, many of <strong>the</strong> <strong>the</strong>ories devised during <strong>the</strong> nineteenth century appear as<br />
forms of more consistent awareness, which cannot be compared to <strong>the</strong> expressions<br />
of some people, who today use <strong>the</strong> word <strong>landscape</strong> to sell <strong>the</strong>ir “product”, whe<strong>the</strong>r<br />
it is a book, a project, or a political bill.<br />
For this reason, Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (1855) are among <strong>the</strong> most<br />
subversive, most profound writings of <strong>the</strong> period under examination and <strong>the</strong>y form<br />
an important moment in <strong>the</strong> revision of <strong>the</strong> stimuli of contemporary society even<br />
today. Whitman’s poems recall <strong>the</strong> need for freedom, <strong>the</strong>y break with <strong>the</strong> social<br />
conformism of <strong>the</strong> time, and <strong>the</strong>y appear as an emotional counterpoint in a<br />
changing world. Abstract contemplation of life no longer has any importance, only<br />
<strong>the</strong> contrasts and stimuli from life’s unceasing flow. Whitman has something<br />
ingenuous about him and at <strong>the</strong> same time profound, corporeal, which make him<br />
<strong>the</strong> interpreter of <strong>the</strong> great transformations in <strong>the</strong> American <strong>landscape</strong>, town and<br />
territory. His poems speak of a confused state dictated by <strong>the</strong> exaltation of various<br />
factors, which are part of a questioning, spiritual logic. A simple blade of grass<br />
sparks reflection just as much as <strong>the</strong> death of a hero, such as Lincoln. Pulsations of<br />
<strong>the</strong> subconscious, elements of nature, faith in democracy, exaltation of <strong>the</strong><br />
individual, reflections en masse and machines, all go towards reasoning why <strong>the</strong>re is<br />
such a contrast between town and frontier, wild nature and <strong>the</strong> garden. In <strong>the</strong> light<br />
of <strong>the</strong>se aspects, <strong>the</strong> death of Downing on a steamboat suddenly sounds more<br />
tragic and prophetic when thinking about <strong>the</strong> conflicting topics Whitman faced.<br />
Essentially, even death constitutes a fundamental element in modern landscaping<br />
for Americans. From <strong>the</strong> cemeteries to <strong>the</strong> battlefields of <strong>the</strong> Civil War, <strong>the</strong><br />
<strong>landscape</strong> became a symbol of identification of <strong>the</strong> nation. The fields were no<br />
longer intended only for agricultural practices, and after years of diffusion of<br />
horticulture, <strong>the</strong> territory was no longer interpreted as a symbol of Eden. The<br />
aes<strong>the</strong>tic writings and project considerations of <strong>the</strong> first <strong>landscape</strong> architects<br />
replaced <strong>the</strong> primitive demands for subsistence farming.<br />
176
This rapid revision of <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> <strong>the</strong>mes led to a major revolution in thought.<br />
The idea that <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> was common property and that one day this property<br />
could be in danger was an exquisitely American concern.<br />
In 1862, before he died, Henry David Thoreau published a series of reflections in <strong>the</strong><br />
pages of The Atlantic under <strong>the</strong> title of Walking, or <strong>the</strong> Wild, which he had<br />
conceived during his long walks. Thoreau was <strong>the</strong> first to work on ideas which were<br />
unequalled in <strong>the</strong>ir conception and for <strong>the</strong>ir topicality. Thinking of <strong>the</strong> hasty<br />
transformations of <strong>the</strong> territory, and of <strong>the</strong> violation of nature, he affirmed in a<br />
peremptory tone: “A people who would begin by burning <strong>the</strong> fences and let <strong>the</strong><br />
forest stand!” 272 However, <strong>the</strong> pages of Walking not only contain seductive phrases<br />
and aphorisms, <strong>the</strong>y also propose a sad presage. “[...]<strong>the</strong> best part of <strong>the</strong> land is not<br />
private property; <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> is not owned, and <strong>the</strong> walker enjoys comparative<br />
freedom. But possibly <strong>the</strong> day will come when it will be partitioned off into so‐called<br />
pleasure‐grounds, in which a few will take a narrow and exclusive pleasure only<br />
when fences shall be multiplied, and man‐traps and o<strong>the</strong>r engines invented to<br />
confine men to <strong>the</strong> PUBLIC road, and walking over <strong>the</strong> surface of God's earth shall<br />
be construed to mean trespassing on some gentleman's grounds.” 273 If <strong>the</strong> day<br />
imagined by Thoreau has already arrived some time ago, today we are simply left<br />
with <strong>the</strong> task of keeping a watch over and of conserving <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, since <strong>the</strong><br />
challenge is somehow great than before. It is up to us, to those who go on<br />
pilgrimages to search for unknown lands 274 , to conquer new spaces for resilience<br />
and freedom.<br />
272 THOREAU, Henry David, “Walking”, The Atlantic, May 1862 (Italian translation Camminare, edited<br />
by Massimo Jevolella, Milan, Oscar Mondadori, 2009, p. 24): “Nowadays almost all man's<br />
improvements, so called, as <strong>the</strong> <strong>building</strong> of houses and <strong>the</strong> cutting down of <strong>the</strong> forest and of all large<br />
trees, simply deform <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong>, and make it more and more tame and cheap. A people who<br />
would begin by burning <strong>the</strong> fences and let <strong>the</strong> forest stand!”<br />
273 Ibid., (it. tr. pp. 28‐29)<br />
274 I think about <strong>the</strong> prologue of The Canterbury Tales by G. Chaucer, quoted by Thoreau in Walking.<br />
177
Chronological Table –Events related to American architecture and <strong>landscape</strong><br />
The chronology covers major artistic, cultural and political events during <strong>the</strong> 19 th<br />
century. The events are directly and indirectly related to this research. Some<br />
important unrelated events to American <strong>landscape</strong> clarify <strong>the</strong> chronological table.<br />
Year<br />
Architecture and <strong>landscape</strong><br />
works/events<br />
Architects and People<br />
Cultural, political, scientific and o<strong>the</strong>r<br />
events<br />
1770 ‐T. Jefferson : First Monticello House,<br />
Charlottesville, Virginia (1770‐1784)<br />
‐G. Dance: Newgate Prison, London<br />
‐W. Clark (1770‐1838) explorer<br />
‐D. Phyfe (1770‐1854)<br />
cabinetmaker<br />
‐G. Tiepolo (1696‐1770) ƚ painter<br />
‐M. Fink (1770‐1823) pioneer<br />
1771 ‐C.N. Ledoux: Louveciennes Pavilion ‐R. Owen (1771‐1858) social<br />
reformer<br />
‐T.G. Fessenden (1771‐1837)<br />
horticulturist<br />
1772 ‐Old Stone Fort, Schoharie, New York<br />
‐Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa,<br />
California<br />
‐J. Wyatt: Heaton House, Lancashire<br />
1773 ‐F. Mazzei introduce in Virginia <strong>the</strong><br />
cultivation of vineyards<br />
‐F.M.C. Fourier (1772‐1837)<br />
philosopher<br />
‐W.H. Harrison (1773‐1841)<br />
politician<br />
‐Boston Massacre: 11 <strong>american</strong>s are<br />
shot by British troops<br />
‐War of <strong>the</strong> Regulation in North<br />
Carolina against corrupt colonial<br />
officials.<br />
‐G. Monge: descriptive geometry<br />
‐Watauga Association: semiautonomous<br />
government created by<br />
frontier settlers along Watauga River,<br />
Tennessee<br />
‐Committees of Correspondence<br />
(shadow governments in <strong>the</strong> 13<br />
colonies)<br />
‐W. Bartram’s (1739‐1823) travel in<br />
South colonies (1773‐1777)<br />
‐Boston Tea Party<br />
1774 ‐Hammond‐Harwood House (premier<br />
colonial house), Annapolis, Maryland<br />
‐M. Lewis (1774‐1809) explorer<br />
‐Quebec Act<br />
‐Boston Port Act<br />
‐Shakers arrive in America<br />
1775 ‐Wilkinson and Darby: Iron Bridge<br />
‐C.N.Ledoux: Royal Saltworks at Arcet‐Senans<br />
construction began<br />
1776 ‐Dobbin House Tavern, Gettysburg,<br />
Pennsylvania<br />
‐Bedford Square, London: one of <strong>the</strong><br />
most important example of English<br />
square during 18 th century<br />
‐Royal Academy Gold Medal to John<br />
Soane<br />
‐J.M.W. Turner (1775‐1851)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> painter<br />
‐F. C. Lowell (1775‐1817)<br />
businessman<br />
‐B. McMahon (1775‐1816) botanic<br />
‐J. Constable (1776‐1837)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> painter<br />
‐American Revolution (1775‐1783)<br />
‐United States Declaration of<br />
Independence<br />
1777 ‐Articles of Confederation and<br />
Perpetual Union<br />
‐J. Thomson’s Seasons first published<br />
in America<br />
1778 ‐C.N. Ledoux: project for Besanҫon<br />
Theatre<br />
‐R. and J. Adam: Works in<br />
Architecture (this book determinates<br />
English neoclassical language)<br />
‐G.B. Piranesi: Vasi, Candelabri, Cippi,<br />
Sarcofaghi, Tripodi, Lucerne ed<br />
Ornamenti antichi<br />
‐R. Peale (1778‐1860) painter ‐F.M. Klinger: Sturm und Drang<br />
1779
1780 ‐Federal‐style architecture or Greekstyle<br />
architecture(1780‐1830)<br />
‐André Parmentier (1780‐1830)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐F. Fuga (1699‐1780) ƚ architect<br />
‐Foundation of American Academy of<br />
Arts and Letters, Boston<br />
1781 ‐F. Milizia: Principi di architettura<br />
civile<br />
‐K.F. Schinkel (1781‐1841)<br />
architect<br />
‐R. Mills (1781‐1855) architect<br />
‐Surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown,<br />
Virginia<br />
‐Articles of Confederation go into<br />
effect on March 1<br />
‐The distinguished American furniture<br />
maker Duncan Phyfe arrives in New<br />
York<br />
‐I. Kant: Critique of Pure Reason<br />
1782 ‐J.de Crevecoeur: Letters From An<br />
American Farmer<br />
‐J.J. Rousseau: Le Reveries du<br />
promeneur solitaire<br />
‐C.Willson Peale’s gallery opens in<br />
Philadelphia<br />
1783 ‐N. Longworth (1783‐1863)<br />
winemaker<br />
‐Capability Brown (1716‐1783) ƚ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐J.C. Loudon (1783‐1843)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
1784 ‐E.L. Boullée: Cenotaphe à Newton<br />
project<br />
1785 ‐E.L. Boullée: project pour la<br />
Bibliothèque du Roi<br />
‐G. Washington: Mount Vernon,<br />
Faifax County, Virginia<br />
1786 ‐G. Dance The Younger: plan of<br />
London<br />
‐L. Von Klenze (1784‐1864)<br />
German architect<br />
‐Ann Lee (1736‐1784) ƚ Shaker’s<br />
funder<br />
‐C.B. King (1785‐1862) painter<br />
‐T. Butler (185‐1847) plantation<br />
owner<br />
‐D. Crockett (1786‐1836) pioneer<br />
‐Treaty of Paris: Original borders of <strong>the</strong><br />
United States<br />
‐I. Kant: Prolegomena to Any Future<br />
Metaphysic That Will Be Able to<br />
Present itself as a Science<br />
‐J.L. David: Oath of <strong>the</strong> Horatii<br />
‐Land Ordinance<br />
‐Land Ordinance<br />
‐T. Jefferson: Notes on <strong>the</strong> State of<br />
Virginia<br />
‐F. Schiller: Don Carlos<br />
‐W.A. Mozart: The marriage of Figaro<br />
1787 ‐Destrehan Plantation house, St.<br />
Charles Parish, Louisiana (1787‐1790)<br />
‐Homeplace Plantation house, St.<br />
Charles Parish, Louisiana<br />
‐C.N. Ledoux: architect for <strong>the</strong> ferme<br />
générale (tax barriers) of Paris<br />
‐New Leabanon Shaker Community,<br />
New York<br />
‐Waterlievt Shaker Community, New<br />
York<br />
1788 ‐Marietta: first settlements in<br />
Northwest territory (Marietta, Ohio)<br />
‐J. Soane: Plans, elevations, and<br />
sections of <strong>building</strong>s<br />
‐C.G. Langhans: Brandeburg Gate,<br />
Berlin<br />
1789 ‐ T. Jefferson: Richmond Campidoglio<br />
‐A. Mackenzie: North‐West Passage<br />
expedition<br />
1790 ‐Royal Opera Arcade, London<br />
‐Hancock Shaker Community,<br />
Massachusetts<br />
‐E. Cabet (1788‐1856) philosopher<br />
and utopian socialist<br />
‐Benjamin Franklin (1706‐1790) ƚ<br />
‐Population 3.929.214<br />
1791 ‐P.C. L’ Enfant: plan of Washington ‐S.F.B. Morse (1791‐1872)<br />
inventor<br />
‐J. A. Etzler (1791‐1846) utopian<br />
author<br />
‐United States Constitution<br />
‐J. Ficht: first steamboat (experiments<br />
1785‐1787)<br />
‐Northwest OrdinanceTerritory (1787‐<br />
1803)<br />
‐A. Hamilton, J. Jay, J.Madison<br />
published The Federalist<br />
‐Ratification of United States<br />
Constitution<br />
‐I. Kant: Critique of Practical Reason<br />
‐J. W. Goe<strong>the</strong>: Egmont<br />
‐G. Washington is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1789‐1797)<br />
‐The French Revolution begins<br />
‐W. Blake: Songs of Innocence<br />
‐A. Hamilton: Report on <strong>the</strong> Public<br />
Credit<br />
‐First congressionally authorized U.S.<br />
census<br />
‐First machine to make “cut nails”<br />
‐Bill of Rights (<strong>the</strong> first ten<br />
amendments)<br />
‐F.R. de Chateaubriand arrives in US<br />
‐W. Bartram: Travels<br />
‐First Bank of US<br />
‐A. Hamilton: Report on Manufactures<br />
‐Massachussets Historical Society<br />
founded in Boston<br />
‐First Bank of U.S. opened in<br />
Philadelphia
‐J. Winkelmann: Alte Denkmäler der<br />
Kunst<br />
1792 ‐T. Jefferson proposed a design<br />
competition for <strong>the</strong> Capitol and <strong>the</strong><br />
President’s House<br />
1793 ‐W. Thornton: project for <strong>the</strong> US<br />
Capitol (later modified by B.H.<br />
Latrobe and <strong>the</strong>n A. Bulfinch)<br />
‐J. Hoban: President’s House<br />
‐Shaker Village, Hancock,<br />
Massachussets was foundend<br />
‐Middlesex Canal, 1793‐1804<br />
1794 ‐Philadelphia‐Lancaster Turnpike:<br />
First long‐distance paved road<br />
‐T. Jefferson: Monticello (1794‐1808)<br />
‐Ecole Polytechnique established in<br />
Paris<br />
1795 ‐J. Soane: Bank of England<br />
‐The Philadelphia and Lancaster<br />
turnpike<br />
‐W.C. Bryant (1794‐1878) poet,<br />
editor<br />
‐Eli Whtney: mechanical cotton gin<br />
‐A. Canova: Amore e Psiche<br />
‐J. Soane: Sketches in Architecture<br />
‐J. Ficht: first working model of a<br />
steam rail locomotive<br />
‐W. Blake: Songs of Experience<br />
1796 ‐George Catlin (1796‐1872)<br />
painter<br />
‐Land Act<br />
1797 ‐Belle Grove Plantation, Middletown,<br />
Virginia<br />
‐F. Gilly: Project for a monument to<br />
Frederick II of Prussia, Berlin<br />
1798 ‐B. H. Latrobe: Bank of Pennsylvania,<br />
Philadelphia<br />
‐G. W. Snow (1797‐1870) ballon<br />
frame inventor<br />
‐J. Warren (1798‐1874) anarchist<br />
‐M.P. Wilder (1798‐1886)<br />
pomoligist and floriculturist<br />
‐F. Milizia (1725‐1798) ƚ architect<br />
‐E. Delacroix: (1798‐1863) painter<br />
1799 ‐A.B. Alcott (1799‐1888)<br />
philosopher<br />
‐E.L. Boullée (1728‐1799) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
1800 ‐Washington, D.C., becomes <strong>the</strong><br />
national capital<br />
‐Population 5.308.483<br />
‐C. Lane (1800‐1870) philosopher<br />
‐J. Adams is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1797‐1801)<br />
‐F.R. de Chateaubriand: Essai<br />
historique sur les revolutions<br />
‐F. Schelling: New deduction of natural<br />
law<br />
‐S.T. Coleridge and W. Wordsworth<br />
publish <strong>the</strong> Lyrical Ballads.<br />
‐G. Casanova: Histoire de ma vie<br />
‐A. Von Humboldt’s travel in Latin<br />
America (1799‐1804)<br />
‐Indiana Territory<br />
‐Harrison Land Act<br />
1801 ‐T. Telford: project for <strong>the</strong> London<br />
Bridge<br />
‐D. Hosack: Elgin Botanical Garden,<br />
New York<br />
1802 ‐T. Jefferson: Farmington Country<br />
Club, Charlottesville, Virginia<br />
‐Thomas Cole (1801‐1848) painter<br />
‐H. Labrouste (1801‐1875)<br />
architect<br />
‐G.P. Marsh (1801‐1882)<br />
environmentalist<br />
‐G. Ripley (1802‐1880) social<br />
reformer<br />
‐T. Jefferson is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1801‐1809)<br />
‐American Academy of Fine Arts is<br />
established in New York<br />
1803 ‐Pont des Arts, Paris<br />
‐Foundation of Harmony,<br />
Pennsylvania<br />
‐R.W. Emerson (1803‐1882)<br />
Author<br />
‐A.J. Davis (1803‐1892) architect<br />
‐J. Paxton (1803‐1865) <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardener<br />
1804 ‐B. H. Latrobe: Washington US Capitol ‐N. Hawthorne (1804‐1864)<br />
Author<br />
‐I. Kant (1724‐1804) ƚ German<br />
Philosopher<br />
‐J. Deere (1804‐1866) inventor<br />
‐Louisiana Purchase<br />
‐Lewis and Clark Expedition (1804‐<br />
1806) to Louisiana Territory<br />
‐Land Act<br />
‐C. Fourier: Harmonie Universelle<br />
1805 ‐Pennsylvania Academy of <strong>the</strong> Fine<br />
Arts is established by C. W. Peale
1806 T. Jefferson: Poplar Forest, plantation<br />
and plantation house, near<br />
Lynchburg, Virginia (1806‐1826)<br />
‐C.N. Ledoux (1736‐1806) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
‐J. Roebling (1806‐1869) engineer<br />
‐B. MacMahon: The American<br />
Gardner’s Calendar<br />
1807 ‐T. Jefferson and B.H. Latrobe: estate<br />
and west colonnades at White House<br />
‐A. Gallatin: Report on <strong>the</strong> Subject of<br />
Public Roads and Canals<br />
‐R.E. Lee (1807‐1870) general<br />
‐North River Steamboat: <strong>the</strong> world’s<br />
first commercially successful<br />
steamboat operated on <strong>the</strong> Hudson<br />
River and built by Robert Fulton<br />
‐The A<strong>the</strong>maeum is founded in Boston‐<br />
G.W.F. Hegel: Phenomenology of Spirit<br />
1808 ‐C. Fourier: project of Phalanstery ‐J.F. Davis (1808‐1889) politician ‐C. Fourier: The Theory of <strong>the</strong> Four<br />
Movements.<br />
1809 ‐E.A. Poe (1809‐1849) author<br />
‐M. Lewis (1774‐1809) explorer<br />
‐G. E. Haussmann (1809‐1891),<br />
Seine prefect<br />
‐Kit Carson (1809‐1868) pioneer<br />
‐A. Brisbane (1809‐1890) socialist<br />
‐G. Geddes (1809‐1883) politican<br />
1810 ‐G. Valadier: Piazza del Popolo, Roma ‐Population 7.239.881<br />
‐P. Kane (1810‐1871) painter<br />
‐C. Ellet (1810‐1862) engineer<br />
‐J. Notman (1810‐1865) architect<br />
1811 ‐Plan of New York<br />
‐Camberland Road, 1811‐1837<br />
‐Horace Greeley (1811‐1872)<br />
politician<br />
‐H.E.B. Stowe (1811‐1896) author<br />
‐J. Madison is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1809‐1817)<br />
‐W. Irving publishes A History of New<br />
York<br />
‐A. Von Humboldt: Le voyage aux<br />
regions equinoxiales du Nouveau<br />
Continent (1810‐1825)<br />
‐Agricultural Musuem (magazine)<br />
1812 ‐J. Nash: Park Crescent, London ‐A.T. Agate (1812‐1846) painter ‐First American canning factory in New<br />
York<br />
‐War with Great Britain<br />
1813 ‐J. Nash: Regent’s Crescent, London<br />
(opened in 1835)<br />
1814 ‐Mill in Waltham, Massachusetts<br />
(Lowell System)<br />
‐Foundation of New Harmony,<br />
Indiana<br />
‐J.M. Stanley (1814‐1872) painter<br />
‐E. Viollet‐le‐Duc (1814‐1879)<br />
architect<br />
‐H. Cleveland (1814‐1900)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> architect<br />
1815 ‐B. H. Latrobe: Washington City Canal ‐A.J. Downing (1815‐1852)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐British capture Washington and set<br />
fire to <strong>the</strong> White House<br />
‐Peace accord with British<br />
‐G. Stephenson designed his first<br />
locomotive<br />
‐H. C. Saint‐Simon: De la<br />
Réorganisation de la société<br />
européenne<br />
1816 ‐J.F. Kensett (1816‐1872) painter<br />
‐B. McMahon (1775‐1816) ƚ<br />
botanic<br />
‐A. Hotchkiss (1816‐1903)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
1817 ‐T. Jefferson: The Lawn, Academic<br />
village, University of Virginia<br />
‐W. Coxe: A view of <strong>the</strong> Cultivation of<br />
Fruit Trees and Management of<br />
Orchards and Cider<br />
‐H.D. Thoreau (1817‐1862) author<br />
‐F. C. Lowell (1775‐1817) ƚ<br />
businessman<br />
1818 ‐J. Nash: Royal Pavilion, Brighton ‐H. Repton (1752‐1818) ƚ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐J. Renwick Jr. (1818‐1895)<br />
architect<br />
1819 ‐T. Cole emigrates to U.S.<br />
‐Foundation of Zoar, Ohio<br />
‐H. Melville (1819‐1891) author<br />
‐J. Ruskin (1818‐1900) author<br />
‐G. Courbet (1819‐1877) painter<br />
1820 ‐Laura Plantation, Vacherie, Louisiana ‐Population 9.638.453<br />
‐B.H. Latrobe (1764‐1820) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
‐F. Engels (1820‐1895) philosopher<br />
‐G. Rossini: Il barbiere di Siviglia<br />
‐J. Monroe is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1817‐1825): “Era of Good Feelings”<br />
‐W. Coxe: A View of <strong>the</strong> Cultivation of<br />
Fruit Trees, and Management of<br />
Orchards and Cider<br />
‐L.J. VIcat: experimentations with <strong>the</strong><br />
artificial cement<br />
‐ A. Schopenauer: Die Welt als Wille<br />
und Vorstellung<br />
‐ Old Gardener: The Practical Gardener<br />
‐J.S. Skinner: American Farmer<br />
(magazine)<br />
‐A. Ampère: foundation of<br />
electromagnetism<br />
‐W. Irving: The Legend of Sleepy<br />
Hollow
1821 ‐Canal Eire from Albany, NY, to<br />
Buffalo, NY ‐ 584Km (1817‐1821)<br />
‐Shaker Millennial Law<br />
‐H.L. Stephens (1821‐1886)<br />
illustrator<br />
‐Treaty of Cordoba: Mexican<br />
independence from Spain<br />
‐S.F. Austin: American colonization of<br />
Texas<br />
1822 ‐T. Jefferson: Barboursville and The<br />
Rotunda, University of Virginia (1822‐<br />
1826)<br />
‐The mountain men<br />
‐F.L. Olmsted (1822‐1903)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
1823 ‐K.F. Schinkel: Altes Museum, Berlin ‐S.R. Gifford (1823‐1880) painter<br />
‐M. Fink (1770‐1823) ƚ pioneer<br />
1824 ‐Calvert Vaux (1824‐1895)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> architect<br />
‐W.H. Ashley: Ashley’s Hundred<br />
(recruitment for <strong>the</strong> first of several furtrapping<br />
expeditions)<br />
‐T.G. Fassenden: New England Farmer<br />
(magazine)<br />
‐Monroe Doctrine<br />
‐J. Smith’ s visions of angel Moroni<br />
(Mormon religion)<br />
‐J. Bridger is <strong>the</strong> first European<br />
American to see <strong>the</strong> Great Salt Lake<br />
1825 ‐R. Owen: New Harmony, Indiana was<br />
founded<br />
‐Erie Canal<br />
‐Foundation of Economy,<br />
Pennsylvania<br />
1826 ‐K.F. Schinkel’s journey in England<br />
‐The Boston Associated entitled <strong>the</strong>ir<br />
company town Lowell<br />
‐Round Stone Barn, Hancock,<br />
Massachusetts<br />
‐Eli Whtney (1765‐1825) inventor<br />
‐Pierre Charles L’Enfant (1754‐<br />
1825) ƚ<br />
‐John Adams (1735‐1826) ƚ<br />
politician<br />
‐F.E. Church (1826‐1900) painter<br />
‐T. Jefferson (1743‐1826) ƚ<br />
politician and architect<br />
‐J.Q. Adams is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1825‐1829)<br />
‐F. Froebel: The education of Man<br />
‐J. Priest: The Wonders of Nature and<br />
Providence Dispalyed<br />
‐J.C. Loudon: The Gardener’s Magazine<br />
1826‐1843<br />
1827 ‐A. Manzoni: I promessi sposi<br />
1828 ‐The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad<br />
(1828‐30): <strong>the</strong> first railroad in <strong>the</strong> US<br />
‐Parmentier and Hosack: Hyde Park<br />
mansion, New York<br />
1829 ‐Boston Horticultural Society<br />
‐Uncle Sam (Constancia) Plantation,<br />
St. James Parish, Louisiana (1829‐<br />
1843)<br />
1830 ‐Community Place, Skaneateles, New<br />
York, foundation: utopian colony<br />
inspired by Fourier’s ideas<br />
‐ Railroads active: 40 miles<br />
1831 ‐G. Japelli: caffè Pedrocchi, Padova<br />
‐Chesapeake and Ohio Canal<br />
‐C. H. Mc Cormick: reaper and twine<br />
binder<br />
‐Dearborn, Bigelow and Wadsworth:<br />
Mount Auburn Cemetery, Cambridge<br />
1832 ‐G.W. Snow: St. May Church, Chicago,<br />
first <strong>building</strong> using balloon frame<br />
‐Ohio and Erie Canal<br />
1833 ‐Alasa Farms, Alton, New York<br />
foundation: utopian colony inspired<br />
by Fourier’s ideas (1833‐1844)<br />
1834 ‐J. Paxton: Palm House, Hackney,<br />
London<br />
‐W. Thornton (1759‐1828) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
‐J. Vernes (1828‐2905) author<br />
‐ Emily Dickinson (1830‐1886) poet<br />
‐A. Bierstadt (1830‐1902) painter<br />
‐ Population 12.866.020<br />
‐André Parmentier (1780‐1830) ƚ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐R.M. Copeland (1830‐1874)<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> architect<br />
‐J. Hoban (1758‐1831) ƚ architect<br />
‐G:M: Pullman (1831‐1897)<br />
inventor<br />
‐W. Coxe (1762‐1831) ƚ pomologist<br />
‐L.M. Alcott (1832‐1888) author<br />
‐W. Le Baron Jenney (1832‐1907)<br />
architect<br />
‐G. Eiffel (1831‐1923) engineer<br />
‐W. Morris (1834‐1896) textile<br />
designer<br />
‐André Parmentier: Landscape and<br />
Picturesque Gardens<br />
‐W. Prince: Treatise on Horticulture<br />
‐A. Jackson is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1829‐1837)<br />
‐C. Fourier: Le Nouveau Monde<br />
Industriel et Sociétaire<br />
‐J. Smith: Book of Mormon<br />
‐The Indian Removal Act<br />
‐V. Hugo: Notre‐Dame de Paris<br />
‐T. Cole: The Course of Empire, five<br />
part series of painting (1833‐36)<br />
‐J. A. Etzler: The paradise within <strong>the</strong><br />
reach of all men, without labour, by<br />
powers of nature and machinery<br />
‐J.C. Loudon: Encyclopedia of Cottage,<br />
Farm and Villa Architecture<br />
‐H. de Balzac: Le père Goriot<br />
1835 ‐Rosedown Planation, St. Francisville ‐Mark Twain (1835‐1910) author<br />
‐J. LaFarge (1835‐1910) artist<br />
‐Texas war of Independence (1835‐<br />
1836)<br />
‐J.E. Teschmacher: Horticultural<br />
Register and Gardener’s Magazine
1836 ‐C. Fourier: Phalange<br />
‐Laurel Hill Cemetery, Philadelphia<br />
‐R. Mills: Washington Monument,<br />
Washington (1836‐1888)<br />
1837 ‐G. J. Pilie: Oak Alley Plantation, St.<br />
James Parish, Louisiana (1837‐39)<br />
‐J. Deere’s plow<br />
1838 ‐J. Paxton: Greenhouse, Chatsworth<br />
‐Mount Hope Cemetery, Rochester,<br />
New York<br />
‐Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn<br />
‐Green Mount Cemetery, Baltimore<br />
‐A.J. Davis: Lyndhurst Mansion,<br />
Tarrytown, New York<br />
1839 ‐5350 km of canals in <strong>the</strong> US<br />
‐Foundation of Harmony Hall<br />
community, Southampton<br />
‐James Madison (1751‐1836) ƚ<br />
politician<br />
‐D. Crockett (1786‐1836) pioneer<br />
‐W.D. Howells (1837‐1920) author<br />
‐F.M.C. Fourier (1772‐1837) ƚ<br />
philosopher<br />
‐T. Moran (1837‐1926) painter<br />
‐J. Constable (1776‐1837) ƚ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> painter<br />
‐Wild B. Hickock (1837‐1876)<br />
pioneer<br />
‐T.G. Fessenden (1771‐1837) ƚ<br />
horticulturist<br />
‐H.H. Richardson (1838‐86)<br />
architect<br />
‐H.B. Adams (1838‐1918) historian<br />
‐W. Clark (1770‐1838) ƚ explorer<br />
‐G.A. Custer (1839‐1876) ƚ general<br />
‐T.G: Fessenden: Fessenden’s Silk<br />
Manual and Practical Farmer<br />
‐A. de Toqueville: De la Democratie en<br />
Amérique<br />
‐R.W. Emerson: Nature<br />
‐R. Owen: The book of <strong>the</strong> new moral<br />
world<br />
‐M.V. Buren is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1837‐1841)<br />
‐S. Morse : invention of telegraph<br />
‐R. Manning: Book of Fruits, being a<br />
descriptive catalogue of <strong>the</strong> most<br />
valuable varieties of <strong>the</strong> pear, apple,<br />
peach, plum, and cherry for New<br />
England culture<br />
‐L.J.M. Daguerre: invention of<br />
photography<br />
1840 ‐Hudson River School (1840s‐1870s):<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> painter movement<br />
‐ Railroads active: 2755 miles<br />
‐J. Lindley: The <strong>the</strong>ory and Pratice of<br />
Horticulture<br />
‐Houmas House Plantation and<br />
Gardens, Burnside, Louisiana<br />
‐Pennsylvania Canal, 1840s<br />
1841 G. Ripley: Brook Farm utopian<br />
experiment (1841‐1847)<br />
‐ A.J. Downing: A Treatise on <strong>the</strong><br />
Theory and Practice of Landscape<br />
Gardening, Adapted to North America<br />
‐G.P. Worcester:Rural Cemetery,<br />
Lowell<br />
‐ Population 17.069.453<br />
‐T.H. O’ Sullivan (1840‐1882)<br />
photographer<br />
‐C. Monet (1840‐1926) painter<br />
‐A. Rodin (1840‐1916) sculptor<br />
‐W.H. Harrison (1773‐1841) Ɨ<br />
politician<br />
‐K.F. Schinkel (1781‐1841) Ɨ<br />
architect<br />
1842 A.J. Downing: Cottage Residence ‐C.R. King (1842‐1901) geologist<br />
‐J. Gast (1842‐?) painter<br />
‐E.A. Poe: Tales of Grotesque and<br />
Arabesque<br />
‐A. Brisbane: The Phalanx; or Journal of<br />
Social Science, 1840s<br />
‐W.H. Harrison is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1841‐1841)<br />
‐ J. Tyler is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa (1841‐<br />
1845)<br />
‐R.W. Emerson: Essays<br />
1843 ‐A.B. Alcott, C. Lane: Fruitlands<br />
foundation, Harvard, Massachusetts<br />
(1843‐1844)<br />
‐North American Phalanx, Colts Neck<br />
Township, New Jersey, foundation:<br />
utopian community inspired by<br />
Fourier’s ideas (1843‐1856)<br />
‐J.C. Loudon: Projects for three<br />
Cemetery in England<br />
1844 ‐First Telegraph from Baltimore to<br />
Washington<br />
‐Allegheny Cemetery, Pittsburgh<br />
‐Albany Rural Cemetery, Menands,<br />
New York<br />
‐A.J. Davis: Montgomery Place,<br />
Barrytown, New York<br />
‐A.J. Davis: Blandwood Mansion,<br />
Greensboro, North Carolina (1844)<br />
1845 ‐A.J. Downing: Fruits and Fruit Trees<br />
of America<br />
‐Miami and Erie Canal<br />
‐C. Sitte (1843‐1901) architect<br />
‐J.C. Loudon (1783‐1843) Ɨ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐D. Adler (1844‐1900) architect<br />
‐H. James (1843‐1916) author<br />
‐J. Loudon: American edition of<br />
Gardening for Ladies edited by A.J.<br />
Downning<br />
‐F. Engels: The condition of <strong>the</strong> working<br />
class in England<br />
‐R.W.Emerson: lecture “New England<br />
Reformer”<br />
‐J.K. Polk is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa (1845‐<br />
1849)<br />
‐Annexation of Texas by Usa (Manifest<br />
Destiny)
1846 ‐J. Roebling: Suspension bridge<br />
Pittsburgh<br />
‐Construction of Brook Farm<br />
Phalanstere and fire<br />
‐A.J. Downing: The Horticulturist<br />
(magazine)<br />
1847 ‐Madison Square Park in New York<br />
opened to <strong>the</strong> public<br />
‐Brigham Young: Mormon Winter<br />
Quarter<br />
‐Rural Cemetery Act, New York<br />
‐J. Paxton: Birkenhead Park, Liverpool<br />
1848 ‐Icaria foundation, (Denton County)<br />
Texas<br />
‐ American Pomological Society<br />
foundation<br />
‐Foundation of Salt Lake City<br />
‐Starrucca Viaduct, Lanesboro,<br />
Pennsylvania<br />
1849 ‐San Francisco Plantation House,<br />
Garyville, Louisiana (1849‐1856)<br />
‐C. Ellet: Wheeling Suspension Bridge,<br />
Brownsville, Pennsylvania<br />
‐A. Hotchkiss: Bellefontaine<br />
Cemetery, Saint Louis<br />
1850 ‐Icarians moved to Nauvoo, Illinois<br />
‐ Railroads active: 8751 miles<br />
‐Wabash and Erie Canal<br />
‐A. Hotchkiss: Chippianock Cemetery,<br />
Rock Island, Illinois<br />
‐A.J. Downing: The Architecture of<br />
Country Houses<br />
1851 ‐J. Paxton: Crystal Palace, London<br />
‐J. Roebling: Niagara bridge<br />
‐First Act Park, New York<br />
‐A.J. Downing: Washington Mall<br />
‐A.J. Davis: Locust Grove (S. Morse<br />
House), New York<br />
1852 ‐Belle Grove Plantation, Iberville<br />
Parish, Louisiana (1852‐1857)<br />
‐Icarians founded new colony in<br />
Corning, Iowa (1852‐1870)<br />
1853 ‐New York Crystal Palace<br />
‐San Francisco Plantation House,<br />
Garyville, Louisiana (1853‐1856)<br />
‐Raritan Bay Union, Perth Amboy,<br />
New Jersey, foundation: utopian<br />
community (1853‐1860)<br />
‐A.J. Davis: Lewellyn Park first project,<br />
West Orange, New York<br />
‐D. Burnham (1846‐1912) architect<br />
‐A.T.Agate (1812‐1846) Ɨ painter<br />
‐Buffalo Bill (1846‐1917) pioneer<br />
‐J. A. Etzler (1791‐1846) Ɨ utopian<br />
author<br />
‐G. Rapp (1757‐1847) Ɨ founder of<br />
Harmonist<br />
‐Thomas Cole (1801‐1848) Ɨ<br />
painter<br />
‐E.A. Poe (1809‐1849) Ɨ author<br />
‐A. Gallatin (1761‐1849) Ɨ<br />
politician<br />
‐ Population 23.191.876<br />
‐J. W. Root (1850.1891) architect<br />
‐J.M.W. Turner (1775‐1851) Ɨ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> painter<br />
‐A.J. Downing (1815‐1852) Ɨ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> designer<br />
‐Calamity Jane (1852‐1903)<br />
pioneer<br />
1854 ‐D. Phyfe (1770‐1854) Ɨ<br />
cabinetmaker<br />
‐H. Melville: Typee<br />
‐Mexican‐American War (1846‐1848)<br />
‐The Smithsonian Institution was<br />
founded<br />
‐N. Longworth: The Cultivation of <strong>the</strong><br />
Grape and Manufacture of Wine<br />
‐E. Cabet: Manifesto “Allon en Icarie”,<br />
for <strong>the</strong> foundation of Icaria, Texas<br />
California Gold Rush (1848‐55)<br />
‐K. Marx and F. Engels: Manifesto of<br />
<strong>the</strong> Communist Party<br />
‐Z. Taylor is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1849‐1850)<br />
‐N. Hawthorne: The Scarlett Letter<br />
‐M. Fillmore is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1850‐1853)<br />
‐ H. Melville: White‐Jacket<br />
‐H. Melville: Moby‐Dick, or The Whale<br />
‐The western union company is<br />
founded<br />
‐H. Beecher Stowe: Uncle Tom’s Cabin<br />
‐Anti‐Tom literature<br />
‐N. Hawthorne: The Blithdale Romance<br />
‐F.L. Olmsted: Walks and Talks of an<br />
American Farmer in England<br />
‐A Gaudì (1853‐1926) architect ‐F. Pierce is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa (1853‐<br />
1857)<br />
‐First elevator, New York<br />
‐H.D. Thoreau: Walden, or life in <strong>the</strong><br />
woods<br />
‐The Republican Party was founded<br />
1855 La Reunion, Dallas, Texas,<br />
foundation: utopian experiment<br />
(1855‐1860)<br />
1856 ‐End of Icaria Nauvoo, Illinois (1856‐<br />
1860)<br />
‐Icarians moved to Cheltenham,<br />
Missouri (1856‐1875)<br />
‐A. Hotchkiss: Plan of Lake Forest,<br />
Chicago<br />
1857 ‐F. L. Olmsted: Central Park, New<br />
York<br />
‐American Institute of Architects was<br />
founded in New York<br />
‐A.J. Davis and C. Vaux: Lewellyn<br />
Park, West Orange, New Jersey<br />
‐R. Mills (1781‐1855) Ɨ architect<br />
‐L.H. Sullivan (1856‐1924)<br />
architect<br />
‐E. Cabet (1788‐1856) Ɨ<br />
philosopher and utopian socialist<br />
‐E. Basile (1857‐1931) architect<br />
‐W. Whitman: Leaves of Grass<br />
‐G. Innes: The Lackawanna Valley<br />
‐J. Buchanan is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1857‐1861)<br />
‐C. Baudelaire: Les Fleurs du Mal<br />
‐C. Vaux: Villas and Cottages
‐Foundation of Anheim, California<br />
1858 ‐Nottoway Plantation<br />
‐Dunleith mansion, Natchez,<br />
Mississippi<br />
‐Central Park Competition<br />
1859 ‐Philip Webb: Red House for William<br />
Morris, Bexley Heath<br />
‐R. Owen (1771‐1858) Ɨ social<br />
reformer<br />
‐C. Darwin: On <strong>the</strong> Origin of species<br />
1860 ‐A fast mail service from St. Joseph,<br />
Missouri, to Sacramento, Califonria:<br />
Pony Express (1860‐1861)<br />
‐Fence laws in U.S. 1860s<br />
1861 ‐ Railroads active: 28920 miles<br />
‐Telegraph from New York to San<br />
Francisco<br />
‐Foundation of Vineland, New Jersey<br />
‐ Population 31.443.321<br />
‐R. Peale (1778‐1860) Ɨ painter<br />
‐F.J. Turner (1861‐1932) historian<br />
‐E.L. Masqueray (1861‐1917)<br />
architect<br />
‐First Transcontinental Telegraph<br />
‐Dime novel (1860s‐1900s)<br />
‐A. Lincoln is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1861‐1865)<br />
‐American civil War (1861‐1865)<br />
‐J. Davis is <strong>the</strong> President of <strong>the</strong><br />
Confederate States of America<br />
‐F.L. Olmsted: Journey and<br />
explorations in The Cotton Kingdom of<br />
America<br />
1862 ‐H. Labrouste: National Library, Paris ‐H.D. Thoreau (1817‐1862) ƚ<br />
author<br />
‐C.B. King (1785‐1862) ƚ painter<br />
‐C. Ellet (1810‐1862) ƚ engineer<br />
1863 ‐Transcontinental (Pacific) Railroad<br />
construction, 1863‐69<br />
‐F.L. Olmsted: Mariposa Estate<br />
1864 ‐Yosemite Valley and Mariposa Grove<br />
of Big Trees began places of public<br />
interest<br />
‐R. Unwin (1863‐1940) town<br />
planner<br />
‐N. Longworth (1783‐1863) ƚ<br />
winemaker<br />
‐E. Delacroix: (1798‐1863) ƚ<br />
painter<br />
‐N. Hawthorne (1804‐1864) ƚ<br />
author<br />
‐L. Von Klenze (1784‐1864) ƚ<br />
German architect<br />
1865 ‐J. Paxton (1803‐1865) ƚ <strong>landscape</strong><br />
gardener<br />
‐J. Notman (1810‐1865) ƚ architect<br />
‐Homstead Act<br />
‐Pacific Railroad Act<br />
‐Battle of Fredericksburg<br />
‐H.D. Thoreau: Walking<br />
‐Battle of Gettysburg<br />
‐The Emancipation Proclamation<br />
‐Battle of <strong>the</strong> Wilderness<br />
‐Sand Creek Massacre<br />
‐Battle of Spotsylvania Court House<br />
‐G.P. Marsh: Man and Nature<br />
‐A. Johnson is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1865‐1869)<br />
1866 ‐Goodnight‐Loving Trail ‐H.G. Wells (1866‐1946) author ‐Patent of Gerber’s beam<br />
1867 ‐Olmsted and Vaux: Prospect Park,<br />
New York<br />
‐C. King: Geological Expedition of <strong>the</strong><br />
Fortieth Parallel<br />
‐F.L. Wright (1867‐1959) architect<br />
‐Geological Exploration of <strong>the</strong> Fortieth<br />
Parallel (1867‐69)<br />
1868 ‐Kit Carson (1809‐1868) ƚ pioneer ‐L.M. Alcott: Little Woman<br />
1869 ‐J. Roebling: Brooklyn Bridge, project<br />
and <strong>building</strong> works<br />
‐Olmsted and Vaux, plan for<br />
Riverside, Chicago<br />
‐Olmsted and Vaux Fairmont Park,<br />
Philadelphia<br />
1870 W. Grant and I. Pilat: Madison square<br />
park, New York, was re<strong>landscape</strong>d<br />
‐ Railroads active: 49161 miles<br />
‐Silkville Prairie Home, Kansas<br />
1871 ‐Hayden Geological Survey in<br />
Wyoming (Yellowstone National<br />
Paark)<br />
‐T. Garnier (1869‐1948) architect<br />
‐H. Poelzig (1869‐1936) architect<br />
‐J. Roebling (1806‐1869) ƚ engineer<br />
‐ Population 39.818.449<br />
‐R.E. Lee (1807‐1870) ƚ general<br />
‐C. Lane (1800‐1870) ƚ philosopher<br />
‐G. W. Snow (1797‐1870) ƚ ballon<br />
frame inventor<br />
‐P. Kane (1810‐1871 ƚ) painter<br />
‐U.S. Grant is <strong>the</strong> President of Usa<br />
(1869‐1877)<br />
‐C. Darwin: The Descent of Man<br />
‐F. De Sanctis: Storia della letteratura<br />
italiana<br />
‐Great Chicago Fire
1872 ‐Yellowstone National Park: <strong>the</strong> first<br />
national park in <strong>the</strong> world<br />
1873 ‐Olmsted and Vaux: Riverside Park<br />
and Morningside Park, New York<br />
‐George Catlin (1796‐1872) ƚ<br />
painter<br />
‐Horace Greeley (1811‐1872) ƚ<br />
Editor and politician<br />
‐J.M. Stanley (1814‐1872) ƚ painter<br />
‐J.F. Kensett (1816‐1872) ƚ painter<br />
‐S.F.B. Morse (1791‐1872) ƚ<br />
inventor<br />
‐E. Viollet‐le‐Duc: Entretiens sur<br />
l’Architecture<br />
‐J. Gast: American Progress<br />
‐R.M. Copeland: The Most Beatiful City<br />
in America<br />
‐Long Depression (1873‐1896)<br />
‐L.M. Alcott: Trascendental Wild Oats<br />
1874<br />
1875<br />
1876<br />
1877<br />
1878<br />
‐Centennial International Exhibition,<br />
Philadelphia (1876)<br />
‐American Renaissance (ca 1876‐<br />
1917)<br />
‐J. Warren (1798‐1874) ƚ anarchist<br />
‐R.M. Copeland (1830‐1874) ƚ<br />
<strong>landscape</strong> architect<br />
‐H. Labrouste (1801‐1875) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
‐G.A. Custer (1839‐1876) ƚ general<br />
‐Wild B. Hickock (1837‐1876) ƚ<br />
pioneer<br />
‐G. Courbet (1819‐1877) ƚ painter ‐<br />
W.C. Bryant (1794‐1878) ƚ poet,<br />
editor<br />
1879 ‐Railroads active: 87801 miles ‐E. Viollet‐le‐Duc (1814‐1879) ƚ<br />
architect<br />
‐C. Nordhoff: The Cotton States (1875)<br />
‐C. Nordhoff: The Communistic<br />
Societies of <strong>the</strong> United States (1875)<br />
‐Battle of <strong>the</strong> Little Bighorn<br />
‐M. Twain: The Adventures of Tom<br />
Sawyer (1876)<br />
‐W. A. Hinds: American Communities<br />
(1876)<br />
‐United States Geological Survey<br />
‐H. George: Progress and Poverty<br />
1880 ‐Shingle Style years (1880‐90)<br />
‐Chicago School years (1880‐90)<br />
‐Pullman Company Town, Chicago<br />
‐Olmsted, Vaux, Eliot: Belle Isle Park,<br />
Detroit (1880s)<br />
1881<br />
1882<br />
‐H.H. Richardson: Thomas Crane<br />
Public Library, Quincy, Massachussets<br />
‐Icarians moved to Cloverdale,<br />
California (Icaria Speranza 1881‐86)<br />
‐ Population 50.189.209<br />
‐G. Ripley (1802‐1880) ƚ social<br />
reformer<br />
‐S.R. Gifford (1823‐1880) ƚ painter<br />
‐T.H. O’ Sullivan (1840‐1882) ƚ<br />
photographer<br />
‐R.W. Emerson (1803‐1882) ƚ<br />
author<br />
‐G. Geddes (1809‐1883) ƚ politican<br />
‐G.P. Marsh (1801‐1882) ƚ<br />
environmentalist
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BARTRAM, William, Travels Through North & South Carolina, Georgia, East & West<br />
Florida, <strong>the</strong> Cherokee Country, <strong>the</strong> Extensive Territories of <strong>the</strong> Muscogulges, or Creek<br />
Confederacy, and <strong>the</strong> Country of <strong>the</strong> Chactaws. Containing an Account of <strong>the</strong> Soil<br />
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BIGELOW, Jacob, American medical botany, being a collection of <strong>the</strong> native<br />
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BRISBANE, Albert, Social Destiny of Man or association and reorganization of<br />
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COXE, William, A View of <strong>the</strong> Cultivation of Fruit Trees, and <strong>the</strong> Management of<br />
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COPELAND, Robert Morris, The most Beautiful City in America, Essay and Plan for<br />
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DAVIS, Alexander Jackson, Rural Residences, etc.; Consisting of Designs, Original and<br />
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DOWNING, Andrew Jackson, A Treatise on <strong>the</strong> Theory and Practice of Landscape<br />
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FESSENDEN, Thomas Green (ed.), Fessenden’s Silk Manual and Practical Farmer,<br />
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Review 17,no.1 (July‐August 1845)<br />
WRIGHT, Frank Lloyd, Articles in <strong>the</strong> Cause of Architecture, in GUTHEIM, Frederick<br />
(ed.), In <strong>the</strong> Cause of Architecture: Essays by Frank Lloyd Wright for Architectural<br />
Record 1908‐1952; with a symposium on architecture by eight who knew him by<br />
Andrew Devane, Victor Hornbein, Elizabeth Wright Ingraham, Karl Kamrath,<br />
Elizabeth Kassler, Edgar Kaufmann Jr., Henry Klumb, Bruno Zevi, New York,<br />
Architectural Record, 1975 (it. tr. Per la causa dell’ architettura, introduzione di<br />
Paolo Portoghesi, Roma, Gangemi, 1989)<br />
List of quoted magazines (with <strong>the</strong> name of <strong>the</strong> editor)<br />
Agricultural Museum, WILEY, David ed. from 1810<br />
American Farmer, SKINNER, John S. ed. from 1819<br />
The Dial, a magazine for literature, philosophy, and religion, FULLER, Margaret,<br />
EMERSON, Ralph Waldo, RIPLEY, George eds. from 1840<br />
Horticultural Register and Gardener’s Magazine, TESCHMACHER, J.E. ed. from 1835<br />
The Horticulturist, DOWNING, Alexander Jackson ed. from 1846<br />
Journal of Agriculture, SKINNER, John S. ed. from 1845<br />
Lowell Directory, FLOYD, Benjamin ed. (of 1834 edition)<br />
New England Farmer, FESSENDEN, Thomas Green from 1810<br />
New York Evening Post, BRYANT, William Cullen ed. from 1827<br />
The Phalanx; or Journal of Social Science, BRISBANE, Albert ed. from 1843,
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CAVANAGH, Ted, “ The Original Aspects of Conventional Wood‐Frame Construction<br />
Re‐Examined”, Journal of Architectural Education (1984‐), Vol. 51, No. 1 (Sep.,
1997), Association of Collegiate Schiils of Architecture, pp. 5‐15 ( Link Jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/1425517 )<br />
CURL, James Stevens, “The Architecture and Planning of <strong>the</strong> Nineteenth‐Century<br />
Cemetery”, Garden History, Vol. 3, No. 3 (Summer, 1975), pp. 13‐41 (link jstor<br />
archive http://www.jstor.org/stable/1586489 )<br />
DARNALL, Margaretta J., “The American Cemetery as Picturesque Landscape:<br />
Bellefontaine Cemetery, St. Louis” Winterthur Portfolio, The University of Chicago<br />
Press, Vol. 18, No. 4 (Winter, 1983), pp. 249‐269 (link jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/1180988 )<br />
EDGELL, David P., “Charles Lane at Fruitlands”, The New England Quarterly, Vol. 33,<br />
N. 3 (Sep., 1960), pp. 374‐377 ( Link Jstor archive:<br />
Uhttp://www.jstor.org/stable/362237 )<br />
EDWARS, Jay, D., “The Origins of Creole Architecture”, Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 29,<br />
N. 2/3 (Summer‐Autumn, 1994), The University of Chicago Press, pp. 155‐189, ( Link<br />
Jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1181485 )<br />
ESPERDY, Gabrielle, “Defying <strong>the</strong> grid: A Retroactive Manifesto for <strong>the</strong> Culture of<br />
Decongestion”, Perspecta, Vol. 30, The MIT Press, 1999, pp. 10‐33 (Link jstor<br />
archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1567226 )<br />
FIELD, Walker, “A Reexamination into <strong>the</strong> Invention of <strong>the</strong> Ballon Frame”, The<br />
Journal of <strong>the</strong> American Society of Architectural Historians, Vol. 2, No. 4 (Oct.,1942),<br />
University of California Press, pp. 3‐29 (Link Jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/901212 )<br />
FLANAGAN, John T., “Emerson and Communism”, The New England Quarterly, Vol.<br />
10, No. 2 (Jun., 1937), pp. 243‐261 (link jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/360022 )<br />
GOLDFARB, Stephen J., “A Note on Limits to <strong>the</strong> Growth of <strong>the</strong> Cotton‐Textile<br />
Industry in <strong>the</strong> Old South”, published in The Journal of Sou<strong>the</strong>rn History, Vol. 48,<br />
No. 4 (Nov., 1982), pp. 545‐558 (link jstor archive<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/2207853 )<br />
GOODWIN, S. Lucia, “Italians in <strong>the</strong> Monticello orchard” in STANTON, C. Lucia,<br />
Anniversary dinner at Monticello, April 12, 1982, in memory of Thomas Jefferson,<br />
Charlottesville, Thomas Jefferson Memorial Foundation, 1982 and <strong>the</strong> link<br />
http://wiki.monticello.org/mediawiki/index.php/Italian_Influence_in_<strong>the</strong>_Orchard<br />
URL visited May 28, 2012
HATCH, Peter, http://www.monticello.org/site/house‐and‐gardens/bernardmcmahon<br />
URL visited 28 May 2012; Article originally published as "Bernard<br />
McMahon, Pioneer American Gardener," Twinleaf, January 1993<br />
HILDEBRAND, Grant and BOSWORTH, Thomas, “The Last Cottage of Wright's Como<br />
Orchards Complex”, published in Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of Architectural Historians,<br />
Vol. 41, No. 4 (Dec., 1982), pp. 325‐327 (link jstor archive<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/989803)<br />
JENSEN, Robert, “Board and Batten Siding and <strong>the</strong> Balloon Frame: Their<br />
Incompatibility in <strong>the</strong> NineteenthCentury”, Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of Architectural<br />
Historians, Vol. 30, No. 1 (Mar., 1971),University of California Press, pp. 40‐50, (Link<br />
Jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/988672 )<br />
KENDALL, Edward C., “John Deere’s steel plow”, Bulletin (united States National<br />
Museum) Contributions from <strong>the</strong> Museum of History and Technology, Smithsonian<br />
Institution, 1959, pp.15‐25<br />
KENNEDY Roger, “Jefferson and <strong>the</strong> Indians”, Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 27, No. 2/3<br />
(Summer ‐ Autumn, 1992), The University of Chicago Press, pp. 105‐121 (Link jstor<br />
archive http://www.jstor.org/stable/1181368 )<br />
LANCASTER, Clay, “The American Bungalow”, The Art Bullettin, Vol. 40, N. 3 (Sep.<br />
1958), College Art Association, pp.239‐253 ( Link Jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/3047780 )<br />
MAC DONALD, Allan, “Lowell: a commercial Utopia”, The New England Quarterly,<br />
Vol. 10, No. 1 (Mar., 1937), pp. 37‐62, (Link jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/360145. The Dickens’ quotation is from Charles<br />
Dickens, American Notes, London, 1842, p. 74.<br />
MUMFORD, Lewis, “Origins of American Mind”, American Mercury, vol. VIII, July<br />
1926, pp.345‐354<br />
O’DONNEL, Patricia M., “Cultural Landscape Analysis: The Vanderbilt Estate at Hyde<br />
Park”, APT Bulletin, Vol. 24, No. 3/4, Conserving Historic Landscapes (1992), pp. 25‐<br />
41; (link jstor http://www.jstor.org/stable/1504347 )<br />
PHILLIPS, B. Ulrich, “The decadence of <strong>the</strong> Plantation System”, Annals of <strong>the</strong><br />
American Academy of Political Social Science, Vol. 35, N. 1, The New South, 1910,<br />
pp. 37‐41 ( Link Jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1011487 )<br />
POGUE, Dennis J., “The Domestic Architecture of Slavery at George Washington's<br />
Mount Vernon” published in Winterthur Portfolio, Vol. 37, No. 1 (Spring 2002), The<br />
University of Chicago Press, pp. 3‐22 (Link jstor archive<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/376340 )
SEGAL, Howard P., (review by) “Leo Marx's "Middle Landscape": A Critique, a<br />
Revision, and an Appreciation”, in SegalReviews in American History, Vol. 5, No. 1<br />
(Mar., 1977), pp. 137‐150, published by The Johns Hopkins University Press, (Link<br />
jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2701782 )<br />
SYKES, Meredith and STEWART, John, “Historic Landscape Restoration in <strong>the</strong> United<br />
States and Canada: An Annotated Source Outline” published in Bulletin of <strong>the</strong><br />
Association for Preservation Technology, Vol. 4, No. 3/4 (1972), pp.114‐158 (link<br />
jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1493388 )<br />
SPRAGUE, Paul E., “The Origin of Balloon Framing”, Journal of <strong>the</strong> Society of<br />
Architectural Historians, Vol. 40, No. 4 (Dec., 1981), University of California Press,<br />
pp. 311‐319 ( Link Jstor archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/989648 )<br />
SPURR, Stephen H., “George Washington, Surveyor and Ecological Observer”<br />
published in Ecology, Vol. 32, No. 3 (Jul., 1951), pp. 544‐549 (Link jstor archive:<br />
http://www.jstor.org/stable/1931731 )<br />
TURNER, Suzanne L., “Plantation Papers as a Source for Landscape Documentation<br />
and Interpretation: The Thomas Butler Papers”, published in Bulletin of <strong>the</strong><br />
Association for Preservation Technology, Vol. 12, No. 3, 1980, pp. 28‐45 (Link Jstor<br />
archive: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1493781)<br />
Archives<br />
‐Massachusetts Historical Society, Coolidge Collection of Thomas Jefferson Papers,<br />
an electronic archive, Boston<br />
‐Library of Congress, Washington D.C.<br />
‐Anaheim Public Library archive<br />
‐David Rumsey Historical Map Collection archive<br />
‐Digital Map Collection of Lowell (The University of Massachusetts Lowell, Center<br />
for Lowell History in conjunction with <strong>the</strong> Lowell Historical Society, Lowell National<br />
Historical Park and Nor<strong>the</strong>rn Middlesex Regional Library System)<br />
‐ Harold B. Lee Library, Special Collections, Brigham Young University, Provo
‐Cornell University Library, Collection A. D. White Architectural Photographs,<br />
‐Boston Public Library, Norman B. Leventhal Map Center<br />
‐Denver Public Library, Digital Collection<br />
‐ Burton Historical Collection/Detroit Public Library<br />
‐ Museum of Modern Art Collection, Photography department , New York<br />
Documents and web sites<br />
Operational Guidelines for <strong>the</strong> Implementation of <strong>the</strong> World Heritage Convention.<br />
UNESCO, World Heritage Centre, Paris, 2005<br />
Uncle Sam (Constancia) Plantation, St. James Parish, Louisiana:<br />
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncle_Sam_Plantation , URL visited May 31, 2012<br />
Rosedown Plantation, St. Francisville, Louisiana:<br />
Bibliography and <strong>the</strong> <strong>landscape</strong> description and analysis in <strong>the</strong> National Historic<br />
Landmark nomination form by FRICKER, Donna and TURNER Suzanne: Link<br />
download: http://pdfhost.focus.nps.gov/docs/NHLS/Text/01000765.pdf URL visited<br />
May 31, 2012<br />
Hyde Park, New York estate of David Hosack, work by André Parmentier (Vanderbilt<br />
Mansion Historic Site):<br />
A complete historic resource study developed by National Park Service<br />
documentation about Vanderbilt Mansion Historic Site is at this link (<strong>the</strong> study is<br />
edited by Peggy Albee, Molly Berger, H. Eliot Foulds, Nina Gray, Pamela Herrick):<br />
http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/vama/vama_hrs.pdf URL visited<br />
June 15, 2012