Shadows rise around us as we write--dim reproachful shadows of an age of unspeakable beauty in constructive art, and of (apparently) unapproachable excellence in design; and the question recurs to us again--Can we ever hope to compete with thirteenth-century buildings whilst we lead nineteenth-century lives? It may not be in our generation, but the time will assuredly come when, as has been well remarked, 'the living vigour of humanity will break through the monotony of modern arrangements and assert itself in new forms--forms which may cause a new generation to feel less regret at being compelled to walk in straight lines.'
Here our thoughts, on the great question of architectural beauty and fitness, turn naturally to a New World. If, as we believe, there is a life and energy in the West which must sooner or later make its mark in the world, and perhaps take a lead for a while, amongst the nations, in the practical application of Science and Art; may it not rest with a generation of Americans yet unborn, to create--out of such elements as the fast-fading Gothic of the middle ages--a style of architecture that will equal it in beauty, and yet be more suitable to a modern era; a style that shall spring spontaneously from the wants and requirements of the age--an age that shall prize beauty of form as much as utility of design? Do we dream dreams? Is it quite beyond the limits of possibility that an art, that has been repeating itself for ages in Europe--until the original designs are fading before our eyes, until the moulds have been used so often that they begin to lose their sharpness and significance--may not be succeeded by a new and living development which will be found worthy to take its place side by side with the creations of old classic time? Is the idea altogether Utopian--is there not room in the world for a 'new style' of architecture--shall we be always copying, imitating, restoring--harping for ever on old strings?
It may be that we point to the wrong quarter of the globe, and we shall certainly be told that no good thing in art can come from the 'great dollar cities of the West,' from a people without monuments and without a history; but there are signs of intellectual energy, and a process of refinement and cultivation is going on, which it will be well for us of the Old World not to ignore. Their day may be not yet; before such a change can come, the nation must find rest--the pulse of this great, restless, thriving people must beat less quickly, they must know (as the Greeks knew it) the meaning of the word 'repose.'