Style in architecture and literature alike is something which shapes itself unconsciously to the mind--something which will neither be coerced nor cajoled, but obeyed. Style selects its craftsman rather than craftsmen their style. Style is the master, and we are the students ever observing, listening, trying to understand, waiting for our cue, and finally speaking our lines according to the histrionic ability there is in each of us, for style is eminently dramatic.
But the moment we set up for ourselves and say, “Go to, let us make a style!” that moment we miss our usefulness in the economy of art.
I knew of a young student of literature who, convalescing from an attack of grippe, was found by his physician one day, sitting upright in bed surrounded by a lot of new-looking books. As the visitor failed to conceal some surprise, the enthusiast hastened with an explanation for which the reader is scarcely better prepared. “Doctor,” he said. “I am reading Kipling for style!”
Now, no matter how encouraging to the physician was the patient’s interest in the books, it was a most discouraging thing as a matter of art. For you don’t want to read anybody to copy his style, much less a
[Illustration: MITCHELL COTTAGE, EAST ORANGE.]
[Illustration: DETAIL--MITCHELL COTTAGE, EAST ORANGE,
contemporary of your own. And no architectural student should want to imitate the style of his master or employer, for it is heresy. It is mockery.
If you have not sense enough to listen to your own muse, to study the history of art for yourself, to speak the language of architecture as all your honored predecessors have spoken it, following religiously the splendid historical chart that is ever at your service for reference while leaving your style to take care of itself--I am sorry for you.
In my own very limited scope of usefulness, I am quite willing to confess that I have never bothered about style, and do not consider that I have any worth mentioning; although, I suppose, an occasional architect is annoyed past endurance by somebody who comes with an illustration of a particular piece of my work which has appeared in the magazines, requesting that my style be copied. Of course, it is not my style that is desired, but the expression of Anglo-Saxon home feeling as opposed to whatever is advectitious--out of place there--however correct academically, and according to the rules of harmony, good form or anything else you choose to call it. All tendency in myself toward mannerism, prejudice, partisanship and eclectic theory I have endeavored to repress, for I found that good style needed no suggestions from me.