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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900: Reconstructing their Architecture and Political Philosophy

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900: Reconstructing their Architecture and Political Philosophy

Tessa Morrison The University of Newcastle, Australia

© Tessa Morrison 2015 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Tessa Morrison has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Ashgate Publishing Company Wey Court East 110 Cherry Street Union Road Suite 3-1 Farnham Burlington, VT 05401-3818 Surrey, GU9 7PT USA England www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Morrison, Tessa, 1954 Unbuilt utopian cities 1460 to 1900: reconstructing their architecture and political philosophy / By Tessa Morrison. pages cm Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4724-5265-8 (hardback: alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-1-4724-5266-5 (ebook) - ISBN 978-1-4724-5267-2 (epub) 1. Utopias. 2. Architecture--Political aspects. 3. Visionary architecture. 4. Unbuilt architectural projects. I. Title. HX810.M68 2015 307.77--dc23

2015008397

ISBN 9781472452658 (hbk) ISBN 9781472452665 (ebk—PDF) ISBN 9781472452672 (ebk—ePUB)

Printed in the United Kingdom by Henry Ling Limited, at the Dorset Press, Dorchester, DT1 1HD

Contents

List of Colour Plates vii List of Figures and Tables ix Foreword: Space, Ideology and the City by Professor Michael J. Ostwald xiii Preface xvii 1 Introduction Part I: Utopian Cities of the Renaissance: From the Ideal City for Craft Guilds to the Mixed Agrarian and Trade Society

2 Filarete—Sforzinda

3 Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

4 Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

5 Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

Part II: Utopian Cities of the Industrial Revolution: From an Agrarian Society to Cooperative and Industrial Cities

6 Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

7 Robert Owen—Villages of Unity and Cooperation

103

8 James Silk Buckingham—Victoria

121

9 Robert Pemberton—Queen Victoria Town

137

10 King Camp Gillette—Metropolis

155

11 Bradford Peck—The World a Department Store

175

12 Conclusion

193

Bibliography 205 Index 219

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List of Colour Plates

All colour plates are from architectural models constructed by the author in a 3-D computer program, ArchiCAD. Plate 1

Looking across the Merchant’s Piazza, Sforzinda, with the Cathedral on the Left

Plate 2

The Church of the Market Piazza, Sforzinda, with the main aqueduct to the city and the ducal Palace in the background

Plate 3

The Palace of the Commune in the centre of the Merchant’s Piazza, Sforzinda

Plate 4

Aerial view of Dürer’s fortified city

Plate 5

Street in front of the Royal Ditch with the observation tower in the background

Plate 6

Street of artisans’ workshops and their domestic quarters

Plate 7

Entrance to the City of the Sun

Plate 8

Inside the first circuit of the City of the Sun

Plate 9

Inside the Temple of the City of the Sun with the altar and terrestrial and celestial globes, and the seven lamps hanging from above

Plate 10

Aerial view of Christianopolis

Plate 11

The domestic quarter of Christianopolis with walkways and overhead bridges

Plate 12

The gardens between the domestic quarters and the College of Christianopolis

Plate 13

Inside Gandy’s Village of the Winds

Plate 14

The centralised church in the Village of the Winds

Plate 15

One of the cottages of the Village of the Winds

Plate 16

Exterior view including the rail tunnel that is an underground transport system and connects the Village of Unity and Cooperation with other parts of the country

Plate 17

The central conservatory of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation

Plate 18

One of the four main internal buildings of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation that contains the social and administrative activities

Plate 19

The walkways from the sixth row of Victoria looking to the centre

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Plate 20

The central square of Victoria showing the octagonal tower and the government buildings

Plate 21

One of the universities and museum buildings of Victoria and in the background the mansions from row seven

Plate 22

View of the centre of the city, the Natural University of the Happy Colony

Plate 23

The centre of the city and the Infants’ Temple

Plate 24

The colleges of the Natural University

Plate 25

Aerial view over Metropolis

Plate 26

The apartment buildings of Metropolis

Plate 27

The interior of the apartment buildings of Metropolis

Plate 28

Aerial view of the centre of the Association’s cooperative city

Plate 29

The administrative building of Association’s cooperative city

Plate 30

Public square in the Association’s cooperative city. On the left of the square is one of the public restaurant and on the right of the square is the printing plant for the cooperative newspaper

List of Figures and Tables

Figures Figure 1.1 Cover page of Thomas More’s Utopia Source: Drawn by Author from More 2008.

Figure 2.1 Filarete’s ground plan for the city, Sforzinda Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.2 a) Ground plan of the Piazza of the Merchants; and b) ground plan of the Piazza of the Markets Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.3 The ground plan of the compound: a) House of Virtue and Vice; b) a circus; c) areas of workshops and houses for the artisans; and d) Temple of Virtue Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.4 Perspective images and ground plan of the House of Virtue and Vice Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.5 a) Sforzinda Cathedral as depicted in Libro Architettonico; b) Sforzinda Cathedral as described in the text of Libro Architettonico Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.6 Elevations of a) The Palace of the Commune in the Merchant’s Piazza; b) one of the palaces in the Merchant’s Piazza; c) The hospital Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Filarete 1965.

Figure 2.7 The ground plan of Sforzinda and the compound, which no longer fits in the city plan, after adjustments of Filarete’s proportions in the text Source: Drawn by Author from the description in the text in Filarete 1965.

Figure 3.1 Dürer’s ground plan of the fortifications Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

Figure 3.2

Dürer’s plan of the city Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

Figure 3.3 Elevation and sections of Dürer’s circular Fortress Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

Figure 3.4 Fra Giocondo’s interpretation of Vitruvius’s ideal city of the winds Source: Drawn by Author from Fra Giocondo 1511.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Figure 3.5 Elevations of Dürer’s fortified city: a) Storehouse and workshops; b) workshops with domestic quarters upstairs; c) workshops and domestic quarters that surrounds the Royal Ditch; d) buildings reserved for the King’s visitors; e) Homes for nobles Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Dürer 1527.

Figure 4.1 Villalpando’s Tabernacle of Moses with the tents of the tribes of Israel surrounding it Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

Figure 4.2 Villalpando’s plan of the camp of the Israelites surrounding the Tabernacle mapped to the celestial zodiac Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

Figure 4.3 Villalpando’s ground plan of the Temple of Solomon as derived from Figures 4.1 and 4.2 Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

Figure 4.4 Plan of a quarter section of the City of the Sun Source: Drawn by Author from the description in Campanella 1968.

Figure 4.5 Elevation of the City of the Sun Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Campanella 1968.

62–63

Figure 5.1 Cover page of Christianopolis Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1999.

Figure 5.2 Ground plan of Christianopolis and key Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1999.

Figure 5.3 A small fortified complex from Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1614.

Figure 5.4 Elevation of Christianopolis from the street of workshops and storehouses Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Andreae 1999.

Figure 6.1 John Wood’s designs for labourer’s cottages Source: Drawn by Author from Wood 1806.

Figure 6.2 Gandy’s designs for labourer’s cottage containing three rooms and a loft in the roof over the bedroom for pigeons Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805.

Figure 6.3 Gandy’s designs for cottage with conveniences for keeping poultry, pigs, and pigeons with the pigeon house being accessible from the bedroom Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805.

Figure 6.4 Plan of the Village of the Winds Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805.

Figure 6.5 Land surveyors A. Cocker and Son’s plans for cottages Source: Drawn by Author from Board of Agriculture 1797.

List of Figures and Tables Figure 6.6 Elevation of the Village of the Winds Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Gandy 1805.

100–101

Figure 7.1 The first illustration of Owen’s Village of Unity and Cooperation published in 1817 Source: Drawn by Author from Owen 1817.

108

Figure 7.2 Ground plan of Owen’s Village of Unity and Cooperation: H—public kitchens; I—schoolroom, lecture rooms and chapel; K—public were for adults, library, committee room etc.; M—dormitory for boys; N—dormitory girls; T—dwellings of families; X—gardens. Source: Drawn by Author from Owen 1817.

110

Figure 7.3 Stedman Whitwell’s design for Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation Source: Drawn by Author from Whitwell 1830.

111

Figure 7.4 Elevations of the Village of Cooperation Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Whitwell 1830.

119

Figure 8.1 Ground plan of Buckingham’s model town Victoria Source: Drawn by Author from Buckingham 1849.

126

Figure 8.2 Front-plate showing a perspective of Victoria with distorted proportions (from Author’s private collection) Source: Buckingham 1849.

133

Figure 8.3 Ground plan of one quadrant of Victoria showing the placement of the buildings Source: Drawn by Author from the description in Buckingham 1849.

134

Figure 8.4 Elevation of Victoria from the sixth row looking to the centre Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Buckingham 1849.

134–135

Figure 9.1 Perspective drawing of one of the 10 cities of Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

142

Figure 9.2 Aerial view of one of the cities of Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

144

Figure 9.3 Ground plan of one of the cities of Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

145

Figure 9.4 Elevations of the domestic and the college buildings Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Pemberton 1985.

152

Figure 10.1

Court of Honour, Columbian Exposition, 1893 (with kind permission from Chicago History Museum)

158

Figure 10.2

The Administration Building, Columbian Exposition, 1893 at night (with kind permission from Chicago History Museum)

158

Figure 10.3 Diagram of the human drift Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976.

161

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Figure 10.4 Map indicating the location of Metropolis Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976.

163

Figure 10.5 Ground plan of Metropolis indicating the types of buildings Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976.

164

Figure 10.6 Le Corbusier’s Radiant City Source: Drawn by Author from Le Corbusier 2007.

171

Figure 10.7 Elevation of the apartment buildings with the three platforms below: the lower level utilities, mid-level transport system and upper level gardens Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Gillette 1976.

172

Figure 10.8 Fritz Lang’s Metropolis 1927, Reconstruction by Yannis Zavoleas, The University of Newcastle, Australia Source: With kind permission of Yannis Zavoleas.

174

Figure 11.1 Ground plan of the Association’s cooperative city Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

178

Figure 11.2 Floor plan of the apartment buildings Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

180

Figure 11.3 The manufacturing plants of the city Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

189

Figure 11.4 Elevations: a) Front of the apartment buildings; b) side view of the apartment buildings; c) the exhibition pavilion; d) a hotel; and e) the printing factory and administration Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Peck 1900.

190

Figure 12.1 Ebenezer Howard’s Three Magnet diagram Source: Drawn by Author from Howard 1965.

196

Figure 12.2 Ebenezer Howard’s diagrams of the garden city and satellite cities Source: Drawn by Author from Howard 1965.

196

Figure 12.3 Bird’s eye view of the centre of the proposed village of Owenstown, Lanarkshire Source: With kind permission of the Hometown Foundation.

200

Figure 12.4 High Street of the proposed village of Owenstown, Lanarkshire Source: With kind permission of the Hometown Foundation.

201

Tables Table 3.1

The key of the buildings illustrated in Figure 3.2

Table 5.1

The division of the subjects taught in the eight lecture theatres

Foreword

Space, Ideology and the City

Despite being pronounced in the same way, the sixteenth century English words ‘utopia’ and ‘eutopia’ have different meanings. They share the affix topia, from the Greek word topos, meaning place, but their prefixes tell a different story. In the former case, the prefix (ou) is derived from the Greek word for no or not, while in the latter, it is from the word eu, meaning that which is good, well or correct. Thus, these two words, utopia and eutopia, suggest different types of places, one that is imagined or unattainable and another that embodies an innate moral proposition. Both of these concepts are clearly compatible in one sense, because a fictional or planned realm can serve to advance a positive social agenda. However, there is also an innate tension between utopia (not-place) and eutopia (good-place), as the former implies that the ideal setting is unreachable or illusory, a property that undermines the practical aspirations of the latter. This same tension is also apparent in two more recent attempts to define similar ideologically-delineated and spatially-constrained places. The first documented use of the word ‘dystopia’ can be traced to the mid-nineteenth century and by the late twentieth century the term ‘heterotopia’ had found its way into the English lexicon. The former describes a place which is dysfunctional or where accepted moral conventions have broken down. In contrast, the prefix to heterotopia is derived from the Greek word meaning other, different or apart. A heterotopia is a sub-set or isolated component of a society that operates in parallel with the dominant model. A heterotopia is not an anarchic place, it has its own rules, laws and values which serve to maintain its distinct social order within a defined space. Some famous heterotopias include prisons, religious enclaves or seagoing vessels. Much like the pairing of utopia and eutopia, the relationship between dystopia and heterotopia is a complex one. The twin ideas — of an immoral or savage society and of a place that is isolated from its surroundings — are neither mutually exclusive nor inherently related. The pairing of dystopia and heterotopia includes one concept that is innately ideological or judgmental, as it defines a place as corrupt or sinful, and another that is, first and foremost, based on a spatial distinction (isolation or separation). Collectively these four topias (u-, eu-, dys- and hetero-) combine an ethical or political commentary or proposition with spatial and topographic features, to present a vision for a new society or to illuminate the flaws of an existing one. However, while there are both spatial and ideological dimensions to each of these types of place, the majority of well-known examples privilege the social, cultural or theological structures over the spatial and formal ones. In this way, the architecture, urban plan, topography and geography of the place are often hidden and their actual impact on the everyday life of its inhabitants remains obscure. Indeed, while many of the famous philosophical and literary topias rely on architecture to symbolically represent, or physically enforce, key social messages, the degree to which this architecture is described is often limited. For example, despite extensive accounts of the roles and responsibilities of people in Plato’s Republic, More’s Utopia and Bacon’s New Atlantis, the architectural and urban fabric of each of these visionary societies is frustratingly vague. Nevertheless, there are exceptions to this in both philosophy and fiction, and in the hands of zealous social reformers, architecture and urban planning became a critical part of the utopian vision. Throughout history, rightly or wrongly, the physical and moral ills of society have been viewed as arising from, or being reinforced by, the properties of buildings and cities. Narrow, winding streets lined with tall buildings prevented the general populace from having access to direct sunlight and fresh air. With dense, smoke-filled skys above the city and open fetid drainage channels on every street, a constant and genuine fear of contagious disease gripped many communities. These same labyrinthine streets often featured rows of tiny, overcrowded tenements, with little or no privacy, leading to concerns that these buildings were responsible for encouraging immoral or depraved behaviours. In this way, the problems of society and those of the structure and form of the city, became entwined together in the minds of reformers. Indeed, by the eighteenth century, urban analysis was being used to identify the unhealthy neighbourhoods

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in cities, with particular architectural or urban features becoming synonymous with specific types of physical or moral malaise. The result of this practice was that visions for healthy, just and virtuous societies where often framed around the creation of new architectural and urban forms. While this tradition of connecting propositions for social reform with visions for architectural and urban space has a long history, there was a particular proliferation of such schemes from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries. Through various manifestos, treatises and plans, detailed proposals were drafted for both ideal societies and for the spaces their inhabitants would live and work in. While past research has often considered the ideological, theological and political structures proposed in these utopian schemes, the architectural and urban forms that house them has rarely been given the same level of attention. Furthermore, if the built environment of these utopias has been discussed at all, the focus has been on either the symbolism of macro-scale urban planning or on specific, isolated buildings. Yet, between these two scales is the reality of the city, its residential neighbourhoods, market precincts, guildhalls and places of worship. This in-between urban fabric is the forgotten scale of utopia, lacking both the grandeur and specificity of key buildings and the diagrammatic clarity of its town plan. It is the intermediate scale of the city that sutures the symbolic to the practical. Without this urban connective tissue the experience of the city and of its parallel social agenda cannot be fully appreciated. It is this challenge, to connect the moral to the mundane or the theoretical to the physical, that the present book addresses. Tessa Morrison’s book, Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900: Reconstructing their Architecture and Political Philosophy, is focused on examples of visionary societies that feature both socially progressive agendas and new architectural and urban propositions. Morrison’s work commences with an overview of the concept of utopia before considering specific cases spanning from the fifteenth century through to the early years of the twentieth century. Her utopian cases include famous examples by Robert Owen, James Silk Buckingham and Robert Pemberton, alongside less familiar visions from Albrecht Dürer, King Camp Gillette and Bradford Peck. In each case Morrison examines the original social premise alongside either explicit of inferred suggestions for the architectural and urban forms which would enable or support this ideological stance. In most cases this approach has involved extensive archival research, while in others the interpretation has relied on the assemblage of fragments, traces and clues. However, what is most valuable in each case is that Morrison accompanies her social and urban analysis with a virtual reconstruction of the utopian proposal. In Morrison’s visualization of Dürer’s fortified city the actual scale of this visionary society becomes apparent for the first time. From Dürer’s plan and his index of building types and purposes, it is possible to begin to understand the city as a diagrammatic representation of a place with a distinct social order. But when each sector of the city is populated with architectural types, evolved from references contained in Dürer’s work and life, the city becomes more than just a diagram. For example, the artisans’ street is revealed as having a low scale, being lined with neat gable-roofed buildings, along cobbled streets with communal water sources. The city’s moat and observation towers are other prominent locations, visually and physically defining the limits of the city. Elsewhere, major vistas signal the importance of various urban structures in a way that the two dimensional planning diagram cannot easily communicate. Morrison’s reconstructions, while still abstract and unpopulated, give us, for the first time, a sense of the experience of Dürer’s vision. They evoke not only the order of the city, but the experience of moving through it, of living and working in its spaces and traversing its zones. The vast scale of Campanella’s City of the Sun is revealed, its confronting gates and enveloping walls all but obscuring the actual experience of its hierarchical, domed halls. Conversely, Andreae’s Christianopolis is more modest and intimate in its scale, with its orthogonal streets opening towards the corner bastions of the city, providing a greater sense of openness than its thin, layered architecture and concentric planning suggests. In contrast, Buckingham’s ideal city Victoria has only ever been depicted from above, in a famous aerial perspective view, which suggests an idyllic lifestyle is to be found within. But when reconstructed from the point of view of an inhabitant its scale and architectural expression implies a much more remote expression of society, where the identity of the individual is subsumed amidst the endless rows of identical windows and the power of the state is accentuated with the placement of key buildings in the centre of vast public squares. Such revelatory moments are present in every chapter, as each utopia is considered as both an ideological proposition and an architectural or urban one.

Foreword: Space, Ideology and the City

The cases Morrison reviews are, for the most part, examples of attempts to create an eutopia wherein physical and moral health and wellbeing are supported by design. These are all instances where architectural and urban types are deployed for the purpose of shaping particular desirable behaviours, or preventing unwanted actions and attitudes. Such cases are important for understanding the history of both social reform and urban design and Morrisonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s work provides a new level of illumination of these classic visions for ideal communities. Her unique combination of historical scholarship and computational visualisation offers a new way of understanding and critiquing these moments when discourse on morality intersects with that on place. Michael J. Ostwald

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Preface

Searching for the ideal lifestyle is so innately human that it seems that it not only could be achievable, but it should be achieved. However, how it is to be achieved has stimulated a debate that originates with Plato’s Republic. There are clearly three aspects to the ideal lifestyle: the political, the architectural and the material means to achieve the city that would enhance this lifestyle. Although Plato does begin to explore all these aspects in his Republic, Timaeus and Critias, his plan for his ideal city of Atlantis was never completed. Atlantis has remained elusive and has reached mythical status as an ideal city that existed but was destroyed in 9,000 BC. Unfortunately, no trace of its survival has ever been found, but the search for proof of its existence continues. It was not until the Renaissance that the combination of architecture and social or institutional reform was considered a possibility to create a desirable lifestyle, or even an earthly paradise. Thomas More created a new concept of earthly utopianism in Utopia, published in 1516. He created a new genre of literature and social reform that continues to grow and develop into the twenty-first century. Searching ‘utopian cities’ in Google Images reveals an amazing array of designs, many of them symmetrical and mandala-like. This leads to the question of whether they were designed for their symmetry, representing perfection, or their aesthetic appearance, or for their architectural or community utility. Thomas More’s Utopia was fundamentally about social reform, or at least an assessment of the possibilities for reform. In his description of the cities on the island of Utopia he politicised architecture, although perhaps not intentionally. His description of the cities of the island, although not comprehensive, contained egalitarian housing and presented a sense of communal space. However, he did not promulgate any theory of space or planning for a city that would enhance the idea of community and place. Subsequent authors that have been influenced by More have used architecture to enrich their social reform or utopian visions. For many of these subsequent authors, aesthetically pleasing architecture may have been a desirable element of their utopian cities, but it was not a prerequisite as the main principal of their designs was for social reform. Language and definitional change through time have transformed the concept of ‘utopia’. Utopia has had negative connotations, such as being linked to totalitarianism, extreme idealism, or an impossible design. It has equally been connected with positive implications or overtones. Utopia can also be a form of abuse as well as praise; it can indicate possibilities and promise. In short it is a very flexible concept; yet utopianism does appear intrinsically human. The authors of the ideal cities that are discussed in this book are all pre-twentieth century. They believed that the ideal city was a marriage of political philosophy and architecture—these two elements would enhance each other to achieve their ideal, or utopian, city. New developments of modern towns or villages that strive for the ideal lifestyle and community avoid the label ‘utopian’ because of the negative connotations that are interlinked with the concept. Nevertheless, these towns or villages utilise their social reform and architecture as equal partners to achieve their ideals just as the pre-twentieth century authors did. Reform through this marriage of political philosophy and architecture is the main focus of this book. The 10 cities that are discussed here have been digitally reconstructed to assist in the examination of this marriage of ideas and design. They have been reconstructed to bring alive the authors’ utopian vision. T. S. Eliot claimed that Utopia was something to strive for, but not to realise. In this book the utopias have been digitally realised and perhaps this is as close to the image of Utopia that we can get. To conduct this research many manuscripts and rare books had been used. I would like to thank the staff of the Rare Books and Manuscript Rooms of the British Library, who have been of great assistance in obtaining much of this material. I would particularly like to thank the interlibrary loans staff at the University of Newcastle for their continued support in locating sources that sometimes appeared to be

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impossible to locate. I am grateful for Professor Michael Ostwald, who has offered a personal Foreword for this book. Andrew Stephenson kindly read the manuscript and provided corrections, improvements and valuable suggestions. Furthermore, I would like to thank my husband John for his continuous invaluable support and assistance.

Chapter 1

Introduction

From a twenty first century perspective, a utopian city is a city that is ideal in its living conditions and is generally delineated by sublime architecture—a paradise on earth. There is a sense that a utopian city is either ethereal or born from human hope and folly, but either way, Utopia is most likely unobtainable. Yet this is far from the original concept of a utopian city. When Thomas More published his famous novel Utopia in 1516 he was exploring different political and societal solutions to the social problems of his day. Utopia has a great deal of ambiguity in the text; nevertheless, More was exploring new approaches and ideas of what society was and the structure it should have. Utopia creates the fictional dialogue that gives its name to a body of societal and political thought, and its literary device of a shipwreck or equivalent to discover a new ideal city has been replicated for over 500 years. Utopia was written in two books: the first outlines the problems of society in Henry VIII’s England, while the second tells the tale of the society that could be the solution to these problems. The first book is a dialogue between More, his close friend Peter Giles and a veteran sea traveller and philosopher, Raphael Hythloday. Hythloday noted the futility of hanging thieves for stealing food for their own survival. He claimed that as the English Commonwealth was founded on property this would continue to perpetuate injustice in the community in the interest of the owners of that property. Their discussion on the justice system of the day was broad-ranging, but Hythloday claimed that there was an alternative system of government. In the second book, Hythloday described an island called Utopia where there was no private property and the citizens lived satisfying, good and content lives and where justice and equality ruled in a spirit of cooperation. There were 54 cities on the island of Utopia; all were similar in size and appearance. Hythloday described one of the cities, Amaurot, but not for any particular distinguishing features as it was the same as the other cities. Amaurot was described only because it was the seat of the Supreme Council. The cities were comfortable and well-resourced, the houses were uniform so that the streets looked like one large house, and each house had a large garden. The cities were fortified, and Amaurot was supplied with fresh water from the Amaurot River that ran for 80 miles to the city. Every city was divided into four equal areas, and in the middle of each quarter was a marketplace. Each citizen was instructed in agriculture from their childhood, and every 20 years each family had to stay and work in the country for two years before they returned to the city. However, every man also had a trade, such as the manufacture of wool or flax, masonry, blacksmithing or carpentry. All trades were held in equal esteem. The trades worked together in a cooperative manner. Hythloday’s description of the system of trades would have been familiar to his sixteenth century audience as it was the corporate spirit of the craft guilds. In 1502, the London Leather Sellers amalgamated with the Glovers-purses. In a petition to the Court of Alderman they expressed this ideal corporate spirit; the petition stated that those who work together on a daily basis would: be knitted together in true almighty, charitable and kindly dealings, of which not only growth [will be] such please to God but also [to] the Commonwealth and prosperity to all [of] them that in such wise dealings so always will they say dealings be put and set under due good and ordinate rules.1

In the early sixteenth century the guilds attempted to play a significant role in legislating for their guild and products by putting pressure on the municipal authorities. However, they also played an important secondary role—the social welfare of members. The guilds helped ill and destitute members, assisted the widows of members, contributed towards hospital and funeral costs, promoted educational programmes and 1 As quoted by Russell Abbot Ames, Citizen Thomas More and His Utopia (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1949), 101. Modernised spelling and punctuation by author.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

did charitable work. A guild member lived their social life as well as their business life with other members of his guild. This cooperative spirit of the guild is clearly represented in Utopian society. However, there were many things in Utopia that a sixteenth century audience would not have recognised or approved of. For instance, before marriage, a bride was presented to the bridegroom naked to demonstrate that she had no defects;2 there was no private property and everything was provided for;3 both sexes would wear the same clothes without any distinction between the sexes and the fashion never altered.4 More’s description of Amaurot was vague. It was a market town, with open green spaces, communal halls, egalitarian housing for no more than six thousand families, with between 10 and 16 people in each family. The few details given in the text do not provide a clear impression of the layout of the city. Late Medieval and early Renaissance cities were dominated by a magnificent cathedral or palatial palace, but in Utopia there were neither. More described the structure of the government, which consisted of elected Syphogrants (magistrates chosen by 30 families), Tanibors (magistrates in charge of 10 Syphogrants) and a prince, and operated though an assembly and a senate. Although they required a significant and spacious building to house proceedings, there was no defined and lavish court, as the Utopians despised pomp and displays of wealth. There was no need for a building for the treasury, as gold and silver were cast into chamber pots so the Utopians would retain their contempt for such riches.5 There was also no need for an armoury, since the Utopians despised war and if war was forced upon them they would use mercenaries from other countries. There was no need for a Guildhall, which was one of the dominant buildings of London in More’s time,6 since there were no individual guilds and everything was regulated through the senate. There were a few temples in each city that More described as magnificent, nobly built and spacious. However, they were unadorned and dark inside, and the only features described were the priests’ gowns, which were decorated with the plumes of several birds that were arranged in a sacred pattern. The essence of Utopia was simplicity in its clothing, housing and its lack of luxurious display. One of the most important features of the cities was the gardens, which were not only beautiful, but useful. The political institutions that constitute a typical city of the time were absent in Utopia. The cover page of Utopia shows the cities of Utopia with crenellated walls and large central palaces, a style of city that would be suitable for a powerful king or a feudal estate, but not a commonwealth such as Utopia (Figure 1.1). Hans Holbein produced the woodcuts for the cover plates for both the first edition in 1516 and the Basel edition in 1518, and More was pleased with the images.7 The style of the cities depicted would have been familiar to both More and Holbein, yet these images of the cities contradict the text. The 54 cities were divided into four equal quarters, with a market in each quarter. Markets were an important urban feature of medieval cities as they played an important economic, social and cultural role.8 However, what need was there for a market in Utopia as there was nothing for sale? A set of stores dispersed around the city would have been far more convenient for the citizens. Also, More replaced the social and cultural need for the marketplace with communal halls where the citizens gathered for dining, entertainment and lectures. The marketplace was a suitable urban plan for the mercantile economy supported by the guilds system, but in Utopia they had no role to play and it was clear in the text that More struggled to give them a defined purpose.9 The plans of the cities in Utopia, although incompletely defined, were not conducive to supporting the political philosophy proposed by More. In Thomas Aquinas’s advice to a ruler in Re Regimine Principum (On the Government of Rulers) he claimed that the city was like the cosmos and must be ordered and planned. Aquinas stated that once a suitable site had been selected then:

2 Thomas More, Utopia (Rockwell, Maryland: Arc Manor, 2008), 84. 3 More, Utopia, 47. 4 More, Utopia, 51. 5 More, Utopia, 65. 6 Caroline M. Barron, The Medieval Guildhall (London: Corporation of London Guildhall, 1974). 7 William Holden Hutton, Sir Thomas More (London: Methuen, 1895), 84. 8 James Davis, Medieval Market Morality: Life, Law and Ethics in the English Market Place, 1200–1500 (Cambridge: Cambridge Press, 2012), 4. 9 More, Utopia, 57, 58, 59.

1.1 Cover page of Thomas More’s Utopia Source: Drawn by Author from More 2008.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 It is necessary that the one who founds the city or kingdom distinguish the parts of the chosen place according to the exigencies of those things which the perfection of the city of kingdom requires … if the work of foundation is for a city, it is necessary that the one who founds it decide what place should be appointed for sacred matters, what for handing down the law, what for individual artisans … Finally, one must provide for necessities to be at hand for individuals according to their individual constitutions and states; otherwise, the city or kingdom could never last.10

From More’s limited description, he was describing a city that would be suitable for a mercantile economy and for a powerful king or a government with a merchant class. Perhaps his emphasis on the cooperative spirit of the guild system led him to the assumption of the need for a market. Nevertheless, the acknowledgement that the political philosophy of a government and the plan of the city were inextricably linked had been clearly established 50 years earlier in Leon Battista Alberti’s Decem Libri de re Aedificatoria, completed in 1452, but not published until 1486. Alberti distinguished the plan of the city ruled by a tyrant and the city ruled by a republic. Both represent a different ground plan: the tyrant must control and contain his subjects while protecting the tyrannical government, remain in a quarter, and abandon the centre. In a republic, the public buildings and the government are more central and accessible to all. The trades would be laid out in an organised pattern that would be appropriate to the workability of the trade in a system of zones that would be convenient for the citizens. Although Alberti was the first to consider an urban plan that defined the link between political philosophy and the plan of a city, he did not provide a full plan of his city. However, other architectural theorists, such as Filarete, Francesco di Georgio and Sebastiano Serlio developed the idea of trade and industrial zones. Alberti’s architectural thesis reached England in 1487 only a year after it was published in Florence.11 It is possible that More knew the work. However, Utopia is an enigmatic work; at the end of the work More stated that Hythloday was both learned and had obtained great knowledge of the world, but that he could not agree with everything he said in his tale. ‘However, there are many things in the commonwealth of Utopia that I rather wish, than hope, to see followed in our government’.12 Additionally, throughout the text More utilised humour with his use of Greek names. The word ‘Utopia’ is generally translated as ‘nowhere’ or ‘no place’, ‘Hythloday’ is an ‘expert in trifles’ and ‘Amaurot’ is a ‘foggy city’ or ‘evanescent city’.13 Perhaps the marketplace in a non-mercantile economy was part of that humour. More’s meanings are always multilayered; the word ‘utopia’ from the Greek εύ plus τόπος has a double meaning: ‘no place’ but also ‘place where all is well/an idealistic place’,14 leaving his meaning open to interpretation. In the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries new worlds were being discovered and strange tales of different civilisations were being published. Christopher Columbus’s four journeys of discovery to the New World between the years 1492 and 1502 were recorded in a large number of letters and dispatches that were widely circulated.15 Amerigo Vespucci described his four voyages in an appendix Quatuor Americi Vesputi Navigationes of Cosmogaphiae Introductio, originally published in 1507. The new continent was inhabited by unheard-of and unthought-of races with lifestyles that were never before known to the ‘civilised’ world. Amerigo found people living a life very similar in many respects to More’s Utopia. They had no property, but held all things in common and lived according to nature. He claimed, ‘gold, jewels and pearls and other riches, they hold as nothing, and although they have them in their own lands, they do no labour to obtain them nor do 10 Lucca Bartholomew and Thomas Aquinas, On the Government of Rulers (De Regimine Principum) Ptolemy of Lucca with Portions Attributed to Thomas Aquinas, trans. James M. Blythe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1997), I, 14, 5. 11 Caspar Pearson, Humanism and the Urban World: Leon Battista Alberti and the Renaissance City (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011), 4. 12 More, Utopia, 119. 13 J. Churton Colins, ‘Introduction’, in Sir Thomas More’s Utopia, ed. J. Churton Colins (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1904), xli. 14 John Warwick Montgomery, Cross and Crucible: Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654) Phoenix of the Theologians (The Hague: Martinus Ninoff, 1973), 123. 15 J. M. Cohen, ‘Introduction’, in The Four Voyages of Christopher Columbus, ed. J. M. Cohen (London: Penguin Books, 1969), unpaginated.

Introduction

they value them’.16 Amerigo also described a shipwreck on his fourth voyage. The republican city-states and city league were also known in More’s time; for example, the Hanseatic League, the Swiss Republic and the Republics of Venice and Florence, together with the well-ordered prosperous cities of Holland. The reader of the new discoveries of Columbus and Amerigo must have believed that the existence of Utopia was more than a distinct possibility. To enhance this illusion of reality, Hythloday claimed that he had been with Amerigo Vespucci in the three last voyages to the New World that had recently been discovered.17 Utopia was published in Latin in 1516, and had enormous success: within three months it was being reprinted; this was then followed by a Paris edition in 1517 and a Basel edition in 1518. By the mid-sixteenth century Utopia had been translated into six vernacular European languages: Germany, Italian, French, English, Dutch and Spanish. In several of these translated editions Book I was excluded, and in one case there was a much abbreviated translation of Book I.18 Utopia has generated 500 years of scholarship and is considered the most prominent Christian conception of an ideal society,19 despite the fact that the Utopians were not Christian. More stated that he was influenced by Plato’s Republic, although it was more likely that he was indebted to Plato’s Timaeus and Critias, at least in its narrative. Nevertheless, the book was unique at the time. Utopia anticipates that the solutions to social problems are sought in well-designed legal and institutional adjustments, and not from moralistic condemnation of the consequences of the problem, which was the prevailing attitude of the Church and society of the day.20 Utopia was highly influential: it brought a Humanistic approach to the problems of society. Although Plato had introduced the concept of an engineered political structure in the Republic, by considering the definition of justice, order and the character of a just city-state More had put a modern face to the concept, as well as giving it a public appeal. However, at the heart of More’s solution to societal problems was the city, and if those solutions were to be effective the city must have a structure that would enhance those solutions. This book examines 10 unbuilt cities from literature over a 500-year period. These works represent a political philosophy that was intended to assist society or a particular community to a better life. All 10 authors planned a new town or city to house their political philosophy in their city structures. Some perceived their city as co-existing within the current government of the day, while others believed that their philosophy would prevail and eventually become the dominant philosophy and a way of life for the whole of society. All these writers promoted what they perceived to be practical social reforms for their contemporary society. The selected authors are only an example of those who planned a city that housed a prescribed philosophy in these periods. Each of the selected authors is representative of their time, and they represent a chain of influence that is still relevant and very visible today. There was a proliferation of utopian writings in the early period of the Industrial Revolution. This book concentrates on utopian authors from the English Industrial Revolution, rather than the equally prolific French utopian writers such as Charles François Marie Fourier and Étienne Cabet. However, English writers such as William Morris have not been highlighted, because in Morris’s case, for example, he considered social problems but did not integrate a city into his solutions. It is the combination of the political philosophy and the city that is the key focus of this book. There were two main periods for these planned cities: the Renaissance and the Industrial Revolution, and accordingly the book will be divided into two parts, Part I ‘Utopian Cities of the Renaissance: From the Ideal City for Craft Guilds to a Mixed Agrarian and Trade Society’, and Part II ‘Utopian Cities of the Industrial Revolution: From an Agrarian Society to Cooperative and Industrial Cities’. In Part I, Chapter 2 is entitled ‘Filarete—Sforzina’. Antonio Averlino, commonly called Filarete, wrote an architectural thesis between 1461 and 1464. Although it was popular and influential in its time, it remained in manuscript form and was not published until the nineteenth century. His architectural theory built on the urban theories of Alberti, which promoted separate industrial and trade areas that created ideal working and living 16 Amerigo Vespucci, The First Four Voyages of Amerigo Vespucci (London: Bernard Quaritch, 1893), 11. 17 More, Utopia, 41. 18 Terence Cave, ed. Thomas More’s Utopia in Early Modern Europe Partatexts and Contexts (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2013), xi–xii. 19 E. Fozcroft, Andreae’s Chymische Hochzeit, 63. 20 George M. Logan, ‘The Argument of Utopia’, in Interpreting Thomas More’s Utopia (New York: Fordham University Press, 1989), 12.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

conditions for the craft guilds. He designed Sforzinda for Francesco Sforza, the insurgent Duke of Milan. The city was intended to be a fortified city with a strong hierarchical urban and social structure; however, he used architecture and social institutions to attempt to change society for the better. Although this was better articulated by More 50 years later, Filarete was the first to codify such a concept. Chapter 3, ‘Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia’ examines Dürer’s ideal city for artisans contained in Etliche Unterricht, zur Befestigung der Städte, Schlösser und Flecken (Instruction on the Fortification of Cities, Castles and Towns) and published in 1527. The book goes beyond being an instruction manual on the design of a fortified city. His plan for a city was functional, pragmatic and socially responsible, and the purpose of the design was to improve the status and lifestyle of German artisans. In his design for a heavily fortified city, Dürer portrayed a city with hierarchical divisions of artisans with workshops that would improve their status, working and living conditions. Chapter 4, ‘Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun’ (Civitas Solis) was originally written in Italian, and was first published in Frankfurt in 1623 in Latin. It is without a doubt Campanella’s most famous work. The City of the Sun was a city that would promote a Christian brotherhood. The ground plan of the city was designed to mimic a map of the solar system. The walls of the entire city were decorated with the knowledge of the universe and acted as books for his education system. Campanella’s architecture and design was very different from the traditional Renaissance urban planning, but it was nevertheless influential. His city was not only the map of the universe, but was also the college and library of all terrestrial knowledge. In it, the sacred knowledge was held and taught in the temple at the most central and highest point of the city. Campanella designed a city that was oriented to a mixed agrarian and trade society, and this was the constituency of the ideal city that was strongly supported by Thomas More in Utopia. Chapter 5 presents ‘Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis’. Andreae published Christianopolis in 1619, in an attempt to promote a more concrete Christian brotherhood than that of Campanella through a complete community housed in a fortified city. Andreae ordered the industrial and domestic sections of the city in a logical manner and divided them so that the trades were positioned to complement their work practices. He was influenced by Dürer’s city and Christianopolis had strong parallels to Dürer’s urban plan. At the same time, the philosophies behind his design are influenced by Campanella. Although utopian political literature proliferated into the eighteenth century, Christianopolis was the last early modern utopian city that combined architecture and political philosophy. Part II turns to the Industrial Revolution, and Chapter 6 examines ‘Michael Joseph Gandy—The Village of the Winds’. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, England was an agrarian society with an economy of cottage industries. However, the Industrial Revolution was transforming that society. From the end of the eighteenth century a social and housing crisis had developed as a result of the centralisation of the industries in the newly emerging industrial cities. Large population movements followed to work in the mills. There was a public and political call for a return to an agrarian society. Michael Joseph Gandy was one of the early architects to develop an architectural pattern book of rural housing for labourers. He published two books in 1806 that contained 85 architectural plans. One of these plans was for a small village that would accommodate 64 families. This agricultural village was planned according to classical Vitruvian ideals, and was promoted as a solution to the national social and housing crisis. Chapter 7, ‘Robert Owen—Villages of Unity and Cooperation’ examines the solutions to the Industrial Revolution’s housing crisis. Robert Owen was a successful manager and partner of the New Lanark Mills. He was asked to report on the causes of the housing crisis to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor in 1817. Owen’s report went past reporting on the causes and proposed a solution: Villages of Unity and Cooperation. The Villages were to be self-sufficient and would be based on agriculture and manufacturing, with all property and goods being owned in common. In his villages he proposed instigating a strict education agenda for all children from three years old. He believed that the way to improve society was to train the children and separate them from the bad habits of their parents, who he held partly responsible for the housing and social crises of his era. The villages would create an environment where this education system could thrive, and a better society would be the result. Owen’s Villages used a similar design of a mixed society as those developed by Campanella and Andreae. Chapter 8, ‘James Silk Buckingham—Victoria’ considers National Evils and Practical Remedies, with the Plan of a Model Town, published in 1849. The plan was for a town called Victoria, and although Buckingham

Introduction

was influenced by Owen, his towns had a more hierarchical approach in their social and urban structure that resembled the early Renaissance urban plans of Alberti and Giorgio. Buckingham was a radical Member of Parliament from 1832–1837, and continued to be a strong advocate for social reform throughout his life. However, he was very against the communistic elements in Owen’s philosophy. The inhabitants of Victoria were intended to be from all classes, and every inhabitant would be a shareholder of the city. The structure of the shareholding also reflected the hierarchical structure of the city. Chapter 9, ‘Robert Pemberton—The Happy Colony’ was the last of the traditional symmetrical utopian cities. The Happy Colony was written in 1854, and Pemberton planned a colony consisted of 10 circular cities. Pemberton’s architecture was influenced by the Crystal Palace and The Great Exhibition of 1851, and he claimed that his cities would be the people’s Crystal Palace. He was heavily influenced by Owen’s educational system, and like Owen, his city was only for the working classes. This colony would be built in New Zealand. While Owen wanted to isolate young children from the bad habits of their parents, Pemberton wanted to remove the workers completely from the society that he considered to be corrupt, and to develop a more moral and pure society through his education system. Although there are similarities with Owen’s education system, Pemberton takes it further and in many ways his planned colony parallels Campanella’s City of the Sun, in that the design and architecture of his city embody and physically express his education system. Chapter 10 examines the most comprehensive American utopian city of the nineteenth century, in ‘King Camp Gillette—Metropolis’. An inventor and entrepreneur, King Camp Gillette wrote three books on utopian social reform. His first book—and the most inventive and interesting—was entitled The Human Drift, and was published in 1894, before he invented his safety razor and established a significant business empire. However, his two other books were on the same theme and his passion for utopian reform stayed constant throughout his life. Gillette was influenced by the publication of Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backwards in 1888. He believed that poverty, crime and the deterioration of society were caused by commercial competition, and that the theory ‘competition is the life of trade’ was destroying society. He promoted the establishment of the United Company, which would overtake all other companies and be owned by the people. Everyone could be a shareholder, but no matter how many shares a person had in the United Company, each person had only had one vote. This mega-corporation would require a large city, Metropolis, where 60,000,000 people would live and everything would be produced and supplied by the company. Metropolis’ power would be generated from the Niagara Falls, which at that time was considered an infinite source of power. The buildings were based on modern high-rises of the late 1890s. It was large, dynamic, modern, and with a lifestyle and politics of the Corporation that were revolutionary. In Chapter 11, in ‘Bradford Peck—The World a Department Store’, the public corporation is perceived in a totally different way to Gillette’s. Peck, a successful entrepreneur and department store owner, established the Cooperative Association of America and believed in eliminating the middleman and making a true cooperative movement. The World a Department Store: A Story of Life Under a Cooperative System was published in 1900. The book first contains a prospectus for the Cooperative Association of America, but the bulk of the book is a novel set in the 1920s. This novel was influenced by Bellamy’s Looking Backwards, but it is also in the same utopian tradition as the fictional works of Thomas More’s Utopia, Campanella’s City of the Sun, Bacon’s Atlantis and Andreae’s Christianopolis. The main theme of the book is the future of the Association and how the city built around the Association was an integral part of his planned society. Peck attempted to realise this Association and established a cooperative community and businesses. Unfortunately, they all failed. Peck’s work was heavily influenced by Owen’s cooperative movement and Gillette’s Union Company. Finally, in Chapter 12 an analysis and comparison of the cities is made, and an assessment of their influence into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, particularly the cooperative towns in America and the garden city movement in England, America and Australia, is given. Utopian cities remain a focus for current debate, with a recent Owenite village being refused planning permission in Scotland. However, that is not the end of the story, and the debate continues as planners and politicians seek to develop cities that are based on fundamental ideals. Fiction plays an important role in utopian thought. Filarete used a fictional narrative to reveal his architectural thesis and the building of the ideal city. More’s shipwreck on an island was repeated by Campanella and Andreae, and although they used the same narrative device of an undiscovered land to frame

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

their philosophies, and both reveal strong influences from More, their philosophies differ in many ways. While in 1900 Peck used a novel to promote his philosophy, the narrative was set 20 years into the future to reveal how society would change with the social reform that he was implementing at the time. Dürer’s book on fortification would have appealed to a powerful ruler who wished to build a heavily-fortified city, but in essence it was an ideal city of artisans that had very little to do with the military fortress. Gandy used architectural pattern books to promote social reform, while Owen, Buckingham, Pemberton and Gillette appealed directly to the public to participate in their utopian plans. Despite the use of different narrative devices, all 10 authors believed that their philosophy would have an impact on society, and they all believed that this was necessary to change society for the better. There has been extensive research carried out on each of these authors. However, this book considers a neglected area: the connection between the city and the political philosophy behind the design of the city. It examines how the city enhances the philosophy through its architecture, layout, zones or divisions and its open spaces, and how these cities’ designs have been influential for other utopian cities and continue to resonate today, not as unachievable ideas, but in communities and changing work practices. An important contribution of this book is that it brings to life the cities that largely appear as narratives in the selected books. Through visualisation, it is possible to see the relationship between design and political ideals. To assist this assessment each city is reconstructed through a three-dimensional computer modelling programme, ArchiCAD, and rendered through Artlantis. This makes it possible to visualise the whole city and what the author intended. The reconstructions carefully follow the original texts. Some of the works have no illustrations, such as Campanella’s City of the Sun; others have a ground plan and one perspective sketch, such as Andreae’s Christianopolis and Buckingham’s city of Victoria, while others have numerous sketches, ground plans, elevations and sections, such as Filarete’s Sforzinda and Gillette’s Metropolis. However, some of these sketches are at variance with the narrative. For example, the perspective sketches of Christianopolis and Victoria have a distorted perspective, making them higher and more elongated than suggested in the discussion, while many of the sketches of Sforzinda do not match the text. It is possible that the illustrator was giving an impression of the text rather that an accurate reconstruction. Therefore, in this book the text has been followed in the reconstruction, so that the city can be seen as closely as possible to the author’s original intentions. The history of utopian thought has evolved out of the need to respond to political and social upheaval, with the belief that it is possible to change the human condition for the better. When Thomas More wrote Utopia, he believed that English society was in decline. Dürer wrote his book on fortifications after the Peasants’ Revolt of 1525, when his hometown Nuremberg was threatened. Campanella wrote the City of the Sun in a Neapolitan prison for his role in a revolt against the absent Spanish governors of Naples. Andreae wrote Christianopolis at the beginning of the Thirty Years War. The Renaissance was marked by political and religious division that bitterly divided Europe. In the Industrial Revolution, the division was in society and millions lived in poverty and extreme hardship. It can be argued that these utopias were a search for stability and as a consequence are always static, which in many cases is true. However, they are an attempt to propose an ‘ideal solution’ to what would have been inextricable problems of the time and they have left a significant legacy in political thought and urban planning.

Part I Utopian Cities of the Renaissance: From the Ideal City for Craft Guilds to the Mixed Agrarian and Trade Society

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Chapter 2

Filarete—Sforzinda

1. Background In fourteenth century France and England, the feudal system that had prevailed for many centuries transformed into integrated monarchies, while the German states unified under the leadership of an elected Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. However, by the fifteenth century Italy had largely shaken off the Holy Roman Empire. While the Papacy was strong enough to hinder national unity, it was not strong enough to bring about that unity. Italy had divided into city-states that were governed by a multitude of political units of republics and despotates.1 Rome and the ever-decreasing Papal States were governed by the Pope, who was both the religious and secular leader. Florence was a republic; Venice had a mixed aristocratic and republican type of government, for although the structure of the government was a republic, the Doge ruled for life; while Milan was under the despotic rule of the Visconti. Naples suffered various fates from Norman rule in the thirteenth century to Spanish rule in the mid-sixteenth century. However, even the republics were fragile and by the beginning of the sixteenth century Florence had succumbed to the despotic rule of the Medici. In the mid-fifteenth century Florence was a thriving republic and there was a growing interest in history. History became a system of thought in its own right. It was no longer a branch of theological, moral or legal argument. Nor was it considered a result of God’s will, which was a belief that prevailed throughout the Middle Ages. Events were now seen as being determined by human actions. This rising interest became a cultural revolution known as Humanism.2 Ancient cultures were being reconsidered in the light of this new cultural revolution. It is claimed that the work of the Ancient Roman architectural theorist Marcus Pollio Vitruvius, De Architectura, was ‘rediscovered’ by Poggio Bracciolini and Cencio Rustici in 1416 in the monastery library at St Gall. In fact, Vitruvius was never in danger of being lost: there are 78 extant Vitruvian manuscripts that were in existence at the time of the rediscovery, which indicates that there were a significance number existing in the early fifteenth century. Not only did Vitruvius’s work continue to exist, but so did his commentators. In the third century, M. Cetius Faventinus had written a commentary on De Architectura entitled De Diversis Fabricis Architectonicae.3 This commentary had reduced Vitruvius’s work to practical advice on building methods; nevertheless, it remained an extremely popular book for many centuries and copies of this manuscript survived into and beyond the fifteenth century. Vitruvius was also discussed in the court of Charlemagne by the Carolingian philosopher Alcuin, who was interested in the origins of architecture and some of the difficult terminology that Vitruvius used.4 What makes the ‘rediscovery’ of Vitruvius significant is that it was no longer a work of linguistic interest or a manual on practical building methods but was being considered as a work of classical importance and was being interpreted in Humanist terms. The most significant interpreter of Vitruvius in the mid-fifteenth century was the Florentine Humanist and architect Leon Battista Alberti. Alberti’s Decem Libri de re Aedificatoria was completed in 1452, but not published until 1486. It was the first Renaissance text on the art of architecture. Alberti made extensive reference to Vitruvius’ De Architectura Libri Decem and there are similarities between the texts; however, he was also extremely 1 Jacob Burckhardt, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (London: Penguin, 1990), 20. 2 Gary Lanziti, Humanistis Historiography Under the Sforzas: Politics and Propaganda in Fifteenth-Century Milan (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988), 1. 3 M. Cetius Faventinus, ‘De Diversis Fabricis Architectonicae’, in Vitruvius and Later Roman Building Manuals, ed. Hugh Plommer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973). 4 Tessa Morrison, ‘Architectural Planning in the Early Mediaeval Era’, The Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association 5 (2009).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

critical of Vitruvius. His intention was not to paraphrase Vitruvius, but to interpret his work by taking into account the changed context of architecture from ancient times; yet, he adhered to the Classical principles.5 Alberti wrote in Latin rather than the vernacular Italian, indicating that his intended audience was patrons and ‘gentleman’ architects—an educated audience. He believed that the architect had to be of the greatest ability. For Alberti the ‘greatest glory in the art of building is to have a good sense of what is appropriate’,6 or a question of decorum, which was his underlying theory of building. The architect must have the ability to judge what was appropriate for that particular type of building. Alberti classified buildings as sacred or profane and then divided these two classifications into public or private; the sacred and public dominated the profane and private.7 The different uses of these buildings, in their purpose and function, required different proportions. The architecture for public buildings must have gravitas, while private buildings could be more festive. He claimed that nature had invented three different orders to ornament a building, which came from three different human types. One order was fuller, more practical and enduring: this was called Doric; another was slender and full of charm: this was named Corinthian. The third lies in between, as though composed of both: this was called Ionic.8 According to Alberti, history confirmed that the division of men was natural and revealed distinctions that demonstrate that societies are divided into two types and men into several classes. The first type of society was a republic, which consisted of the sacred and the temporal; there were some citizens of the highest class, some with great knowledge of various useful arts and skills and others with an abundance of goods and fortune. The second type of society was a kingdom or principality, where there were only two divisions of citizen: one was the prince or tyrant and the other his subjects.9 Alberti analysed societies with the same method that he used for buildings, where beauty or virtue resided in their order. Alberti stated that ‘the city is like some large house, and the house is in turn like some small city’,10 because a house and the city both held society. Buildings should relate to the class of the occupants; they should be no smaller or larger than dignity demands. This dignity was reflected in the three natural orders of Doric, Ionic and Corinthian. Alberti implied that his social theory of the orders was based on the notion that working class people were short, strong and simply dressed, while people from the upper classes were tall, slender and richly decorated.11 The two types of societies—the republic and the principality—reflected different demands in the city’s plan. The placement of political buildings was distinctly different in the city of the republic to the city of the tyrant. A tyrant needed to exercise control over the people and guard against rebellion. Therefore, he had to fortify his city against foreigners as well as fellow citizens. Alberti proposed a city plan with two concentric circular walls. The wealthier citizens would be happier in the more spacious surroundings of the outer ring; this would also keep them away from petitioning the tyrant. The centre of the city was assigned to the slaughterhouses, artisans’ shops and food sellers. The centre was given over to the ‘rabble’ of the poor, where they were contained.12 In a republic, Alberti considered that the government should be more accessible and the senate house should be in the centre of the city, along with the law courts and the main temple. The charm of the city was enhanced by its various workshops and residential areas, which should be located in distinct and welldefined zones. Alberti claimed:

5 John Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1988), 152; James R. Lindow, The Renaissance Palace in Florence: Magnificence and Splendour in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007), 66. 6 Leon Battista Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books, trans. Joseph Rykwert, Neil Leach, and Robert Tavernor (Cambridge, Massachusetts, London, England: The MIT Press, 1988), IX, x, 173. 7 Alberti, On the Art of Building, Book VII, 1 & VIII, ix. 8 Alberti, On the Art of Building, Book IX, v. 9 Alberti, On the Art of Building, Book V, vi. 10 Alberti, On the Art of Building, Prologue. 11 Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance, 155. 12 Caspar Pearson, Humanism and the Urban World: Leon Battista Alberti and the Renaissance City (University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011), 58.

Filarete—Sforzinda

we should divide the city into zones, so that not only are the foreigners segregated into some place suitable for them and not inconvenient for the citizen, but the citizens themselves are also separated into zones suitable and convenient, according to the occupation and rank of each one of them … The silversmiths, painters, and jewellers should be on the forum, then next to them, spice shops, clothes shops, and in short, all those that might be thought more respectable. Anything foul or offensive (especially the stinking tanners) should be kept well away in the outskirts to the north, as the wind rarely blow from that direction.13

Alberti established a hierarchical structure for the city in the zones and the architecture that reflected this structure. The city plan should give the more significant buildings the most important sites and the buildings should have the ornamentation or decorum that was appropriate to their rank and purpose. He considered the city to be a combination of physical and political forms, and that the activity of individuals produced the order of the city.14 Although Decem Libri de re Aedificatoria is primarily a classical work on the art of architecture, Alberti was an important political thinker and his works resonated in the following centuries with philosophical writers such as Niccolò Machiavelli and Erasmus of Rotterdam.15 However, in his 10 books on architecture he does not dedicate a book to the city; he gave no detailed plan of how the ideal city would be structured. The first ideal city to be described in detail originated from the Florentine architect and artist Antonio Averlino, now known as Filarete. Libro Architettonico was composed in Milan between 1461 and 1464, while Filarete was in the service of Francesco Sforza, insurgent Duke of Milan.16 Written as a narrative it was intended to entertain; however, its main purpose was in the instruction of architectural theory. Filarete developed Alberti’s theory of decorum and social stratification, and the ideal city that originated from this theory reveals interesting insights into the divisions and attitudes of society in the mid-fifteenth century. 2. Outline of Libro Architettonico Filarete dedicated the Libro Architettonico to the Duke Sforza and recommend that he have the book read aloud to him. He believed that it would give ‘a certain amount of pleasure to your [the Duke’s] ears. It contains proportions, qualities, measure, and the origins. This I will demonstrate by reason, authority, and example and [it will also show how] they all derive from the figure and form of man’.17 The book is in the form of a dialogue, and begins at a banquet where a group of noblemen are discussing the merits of architecture. One of the nobleman stated that he did not think that architecture was as noble as it is thought to be. This comment stimulated a discussion about architecture, its practice and its origin. At this, Filarete or his fictional persona, Averlino, being the only architect at the banquet, defended the position of what he perceived to be the most noble art of capable men, ancient and modern, such as Vitruvius and Alberti, the latter being the ‘most learned of our time in many disciplines, very skilled in architecture and especially in design that is the basis and means of every art done by hand’.18 Filarete stated that although these two authors were extremely scholarly, worthy and elegant, their works were written in Latin and had not reached a non-scholarly audience. Throughout the text he praised the Classical architecture in Florence, but denigrated the modern or Gothic architecture of Lombardy. He warned, ‘I beg everyone to abandon modern usage. Do not let yourself be advised by masters who hold to such practice. Cursed be he who discovered it. I think only barbaric people could have bought it into 13 Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books, VII, i. 14 Carroll William Westfall, In the Most Perfect Paradise: Alberti, Nicholas V, and the Invention of Conscious Urban Planning in Rome 1447–55 (University Park and London: Pennsylvania State University press, 1974), 58 15 Pearson, Humanism and the Urban World: Leon Battista Alberti and the Renaissance City, 105. 16 John R. Spencer, ‘Introduction’, in Treatise on Architecture, ed. John R. Spencer (New Haven, Connecticut and London: Yale University Press, 1965), xix. 17 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture (New Haven, Connecticut and London: Yale University Press, 1965), Book I, folio 1v, p. 4. 18 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book I, folio 1v & 2v, p. 5.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Italy’.19 He wrote this dialogue in Italian to reach a broader audience so that they would understand the wonders of architecture. He divided his dialogue on architecture into three parts: first, an account of the origins of measurement and building, its sources, maintenance and the role of the architect; second, the means of construction to create a fine, beautiful city, built according to the laws of nature; and third, the various forms of building according to ancient practices. Filarete only considered ancient practices, and displayed his total dislike for modern Gothic architecture that was designed by ‘so-called’ architects, who he considered did not know the principles of architecture. The plan of the city is an eight-pointed star created by two squares, with a defensive moat encircling in city (Figure 2.1). There are eight major streets and eight canals that lead directly to the centre, and an aqueduct to supply the city with water. The canal system linked all the buildings throughout the centre of the city and served the trades and public life in the various districts of the city. There was a major square in the centre, and on the east side of the square was the cathedral; facing it on the west side was the Ducal Palace. To the north of the central square was the Piazza of the Merchants (Figure 2.2a and Plate 1) and to the south the Piazza of the Markets (Figure 2.2b and Plate 2). The city was well-equipped, with a hospital and community palaces (Figure 2.6c and Plate 3), schools, a customs house, mint and all conceivable public buildings that were desirable for a fifteenth century city. For Filarete, man was the perfect model, created by God. The human body underpinned the origins of proportional measurements and qualities of architecture. Buildings were a simile for the human figure, but God did not create man to be the same; there are different types of men. Filarete followed both Vitruvius and Alberti, but added a new element: qualiti or types. There are three qualiti of men: large, medium and small; these relate to Vitruvius’ orders Doric, Corinthian and Ionic. These qualiti go beyond a proportional theory and are the general underlying philosophy of Filarete’s architectural principles. He stated: There are many qualities in buildings, just as there are many among men. As I have said before the major quality is the most worthy. You clearly understand that some men are more dignified than others; buildings are the same, according to the persons who live in them and according to the use. As man should be dressed and adorned according to the dignity, so ought buildings.20

These fundamental principles, plus Vitruvian theory and Christianity, form a fifteenth century theory of architecture that diverged from Alberti’s classical principles of architecture. Filarete expanded on Alberti’s anthropomorphism, suggesting that it was not only the proportions of a building that were like a human being, but the building itself. The building had a ‘mother’ and a ‘father’; the architect and patron that were both necessary for the building’s conception. A building lived, but it also could die just like a human being if it was not looked after. While the mother—the architect—strives to make the building beautiful and good, the patron—the father—should be a suitable and conscientious man of good will who should take care of the architect and the necessary building supplies when required. Filarete saw a very close relationship between patron and architect, and considered that a good architect should be respected and honoured by his patron. He perceived a greater status for the architect than the reality of the fifteenth century court.21 His qualiti of buildings were divided into three classifications: religious, public and private, which were determined according to their function and the status of their inhabitants. These classifications were divided into three types: public, common and private. For instance, in his taxonomy of buildings, sacred and common buildings were those such as the cathedral, where anyone could enter; sacred and public buildings were those such as the convents of the Franciscans, while sacred and private buildings were those like monasteries that 19 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book VIII, folio 59r. 20 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book VII, folio 48v. 21 Luisa Giordano, ‘On Filarete’s Libro Architettonico’, in Paper Palaces: The Rise of the Renaissance Architectural Thesis, ed. Vaughan Hart and Peter Hicks (New Haven, Connecticut and London: Yale University Press, 1998), 56; Valentina Vulpi, ‘Finding Filarete: The Two Libro Archittectonico’, in Raising the Eyebrow: John Onians and World Art Studies, ed. Lauren Golden (Oxford: Archaeopress, 2001), 336.

2.1 Filarete’s ground plan for the city, Sforzinda Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

2.2 a) Ground plan of the Piazza of the Merchants; and b) ground plan of the Piazza of the Markets Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

were closed to the public.22 The architect Averlino suggested to the Duke that he build a city, Sforzinda, designed to these architectural principles. An appropriate site was selected that was rich in water, animals, fish and trees. The building materials were selected and then an astrologer was called to establish an auspicious date for the foundations to be laid. In accordance to Filarete’s anthropomorphism, the fate of the buildings and the city depended on the date of its ‘birth’. After doing a series of calculations the astrologer announced that 15 April at 10.21 a.m. in 1460 would be the most suitable time to lay the first stone of the city.23 However, the laying of the foundation stone was not a simple matter. Averlino acted as the master of ceremonies. The Duke and the Bishop were at the head of the procession, followed by secular dignitaries and accompanied by music and prayer. At the required time the foundation stone was laid by the Bishop and the Duke, with inscriptions of its date and names of the founders and architect. Then a marble container was placed on top of the stone that contained many deposits, including a bronze book; on its cover were figures of virtue and vice. The bronze book contained Filarete’s own design for the city and his architectural theories, a reference to Libro Architettonic. It also included other deposits such as coins, wine, honey, oil and other various foods; the virtues of these deposits were explained allegorically in the text. The foundation ceremonies were based on ancient non-Christian rituals and the book described auspicious signs that included the circling eagle, a snake that shed its skin and a swarm of bees.24 The description of the ceremonies was extensive, and the auspicious signs that occurred during the ceremonies vindicated the architect’s plan and indicated the positioning of particular buildings in the city. They also forecast a long, rich and strong life for the city; it would also be prosperous, orderly and invincible. During the foundation ceremonies the Prince, the fictional persona of Francesco Sforza’s son Galeazzo Maria Sforza, was so impressed with architecture and its theories that he became a constant presence at the side of Averlino. The foundations were completed in only 10 days and required a workforce of 103,200 people; then the walls were begun to secure the site of the city. As the city progressed, Averlino explained the design and structure of each building to the Prince in detail. Averlino articulated his theory of ornamenti and the origins of the orders. Filarete took the head of a man to be the base measure of columns. He misread Vitruvius, and hence his column proportions were not in line with the traditional theory. He placed Doric as the largest, nine capitals high; Corinthian as the middle, eight capitals in height, and Ionic as the smallest, seven capitals high.25 However, just as a building was a simile of the human figure, the building should be ‘dressed’ according to its status and ornamentation; this signified the building’s status. Averlino claimed that although there were many types of columns, there were only three major types, which have: many qualities of men, for example men who remained with the Lord as support and ornament. The middle [class] are also useful and an adornment, but they are not so decorative as a gentleman. The lowest [order] are for the utilitarian requirements of the Lord and are in his service, but they do not have the beautiful presence of the other two superior [ones]. … The Ionic are the greatest in size, the Corinthian medium, and the Ionic the smallest of them all, that is, of seven heads. This [latter order] is like the lowest [class], that is, for bearing weight. It is used in the building in places where the greatest weight is to be supported.26

The decoration, proportions and columns of the city buildings were designed to highlight the social structure and status of the inhabitants according to these principles. The magnitude and beauty were preserved in memory and tied together. He stated, ‘the frame of building is such, because of its magnitude and beauty, that the frame of the men enjoys for the great and the beautiful things he has done’.27 The combination of 22 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book II, folio 11r. 23 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book IV, folio 24v. 24 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book IV, folios 25v–30r. 25 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book VIII, folios 55v–56r. For a comparison of the heights of Alberti and Vitruvius, see note 3, p. 96. 26 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book VIII, folio 56v. 27 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book II, folio 7r.

Filarete—Sforzinda

qualiti and ornamenti were replicated both in the man and the city; however, they were both mortal and they are born, live, die or are cured. Averlino and the Prince surveyed the coastline of the Duke’s territory and advised him to build a harbour for the city at a place they considered to be an ideal site. However, while digging for the foundations of the city some ruins and a stone box were discovered; the stone box was square and polished, with inscriptions written in Greek, Arabic and Hebrew on top. In the presence of the Duke, the box was opened, revealing various precious items including a golden book written in Greek and other deposits, such as antique vases and a golden head with a crown set with precious gems.28 The golden book was translated by the Duke’s poet Iscofrance Notilento, an anagram for Francesco da Tolentino, known at Sforza’s court as Filelfo, a famous Italian Humanist, Greek scholar and close friend of Filarete. The book told the story of an ancient kingdom called Plusiapolis (Greek for ‘rich city’). The story paralleled that of Sforzinda; the city was built for King Zogalia by his architect Onitoan Nolivera, who was assisted by a noble Prince Scofrance. The golden book described the plan of the city and the buildings of Plusiapolis. The plan and the ancient architecture of Plusiapolis were similar to Averlino’s Sforzinda, except that Plusiapolis is grander and more ornate; Plusiapolis was the architectural antecedent of Sforzinda. It was a vindication of Filarete’s architectural principles and was a declaration of the superiority of his concept of ancient architecture. The architecture of both cities is discussed in detail, and parallels are continuously drawn between them. It is an extremely long book of 193 folios divided into 25 books. The narrative of the cities ends very abruptly in Book 21, and neither city was brought to a satisfactory conclusion. The next three books are a treatise on drawing that was derived from Alberti’s De Pictura and the final book is a rededication to Cosimo and Piero de Medici and discusses their building activities in Florence. While Alberti emphasised the importance of the development of Italian architecture that was a renaissance of Greek antiquity, Filarete emphasised that Greek architecture was the pinnacle of the art and needed no development. Filarete’s intentions in writing Libro Architettonico were perhaps very mixed: there are clear instructions for the architect, he developed architectural taxonomy, there is political content for the instruction of a Prince and he mapped out educational ideals. Perhaps through the flattering of Francesco Sforza there was an attempt at securing tenure in his position at court. Nevertheless, the bulk of the book consists of explanations through examples of his architectural theories of qualiti and ornamenti and his attempt to apply architectural theory to social structure to define and order society. Although Filarete’s narrative is sometimes fanciful, his emphasis was on his architectural principles and his desire was to create Sforzinda as an ideal city of beauty and order that would be built to ancient architectural principles. The choice of narrative dialogue was not just a device for his architectural theories; the ideal city Sforzinda embodied important social and political concepts that endured beyond the mid-fifteenth century. 3. The Political Philosophy In the mid-sixteenth century the Italian architect, painter and historian Giorgio Vasari denigrated Libro Architettonico; he claimed that ‘although there is something of the good to be found in it, it is nevertheless the most ridiculous, and perhaps the most stupid book that was ever written’.29 Compared to Alberti, who wrote in pristine Latin, Filarete lacked a classical education and his poorly-spelled and punctuated vernacular Italian did not make the same impact on critics like Vasari. However, the book is multifaceted and its descriptions of buildings and architectural philosophy provide an interesting vignette of the fifteenth century that has generated a significant amount of scholarship. There are suggestions that the work was not as ill-received as Vasari suggested, and that Filarete’s work on the importance of the central plan laid 28 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XIV, folio 102r. 29 Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Most Eminent Painters, Sculptors and Architects, trans. Gaston De Vere, Volume 3 (London: Philip Lee Warner, 1912), 5.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

out in Sforzinda possibly influenced Leonardo da Vinci and Donato Bramante.30 Despite Filarete’s lack of a classical education he had a close relationship with the Greek scholar and Italian Humanist Filelfo, who clearly influenced and translated the sources he used. Studies of Libro Architettonico demonstrate he used Plato’s Critias, Timaeus and The Laws, which had not been translated into Latin from Greek at the time.31 The ceremony to lay the foundation stone reveals a complex mixture of ancient and Christian ceremonies that combined sympathetic magic and Christian rituals that predate scholars’ Hermetic philosophy.32 However, a neglected area of research in Libro Architettonico is the role of the artisan and the desired ideal city or social structure that he hoped would enfranchise that society. On the surface Filarete appears to be presenting a political or social society no different to the one he knew. There seems to be a complete acceptance of the seigniorial regime and the clear division of the classes in society. However, he was attempting to enhance and order society through the design and architecture of the city. Like Alberti, Filarete claimed that the qualities of buildings match the qualities of their occupants, but his taxonomy and his principals of decorum to ‘dress’ the buildings goes further than Alberti’s. The qualita are related to social class, as well as order and proportion. The purpose of the Ionic column, the lowest, was to support a heavy load; Corinthian columns also had a load-bearing function, but the Doric column, the tallest, had to support and adorn a building. The taller the order, the greater its role in adornment rather than in providing support.33 The functions of the columns parallel the functions of the divisions of men. Although Alberti implied this division, Filarete clearly expressed that the form and relationships that were found in the orders of architecture corresponded to similar forms and relationships in men and society.34 He also associated the proportions of doorways with the orders. A double square (1:2) was associated with Doric, a square plus a half (1:1.5) with Corinthian, and a square plus a diagonal (approximately 1:1.414) with Ionic. Initially the expectation would be that houses of the upper class would be a double square with Doric columns such that the building would correspond to the proportion of that class. However, there is a hierarchy within each class that was also defined by the architecture and proportion. The Ducal Palace had a ground plan of 160 × 330 braccia,35 which was slightly larger than the double square and it was decorated with two styles of columns, Doric (1:9) and other columns slightly larger in scale (1:9.6). These larger proportions denote the higher status of the Palace and the Duke. The ground plan of the Bishop’s Palace36 was a double square of 160 × 320 with columns of the proportion of 1:9.6. The smaller ground plan of the Bishop’s Palace shows its inferior position to the Ducal Palace, but its superiority to a gentleman’s house,37 which was a double square with Doric columns (1:9). There were also distinguishing features, such as porticos and towers that added to the hierarchy. For instance, the Bishop’s Palace had two towers, while the Ducal Palace had three.38 Filarete described a strict hierarchical society that would support the seigniorial regime of his day. However, there were not just descriptions and classifications of sacred, ruling and profane citizens; there were also descriptions of the guilds, schools for the poor, artisans’ cottages and a complex for the workmen. Filarete attempted to cater for the needs of all classes and he was interested in social problems, but he was particularly interested in the status of the artisans. In the Merchants Square there were two guildhalls; one for the greater guilds and the other for the lesser guilds. They were located on opposite sides of the square. Both of these halls were the same size, 70 × 100 braccia, slightly larger than Ionic proportion, which classified them as superior working class in Filarete’s 30 David Watkin, The History of Western Architecture (London: Lawrence King Publishing, 2005), 222; John R. Spencer, ‘Filarete and Central-Plan Architecture’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 17, no. 3 (1958). 31 John Onians, ‘Alberti and Φιλαρetη a Study of Their Sources’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 34 (1971). 32 Berthold Hub, ‘Founding an Ideal City in Filarete’s Libro Architettonico (C.1460)’, in Foundation, Dedication and Consecration in Early Modern Europe, ed. M. Delbeke and M. Schraven (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 33 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book VIII, folio 56v. 34 Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance, 166. 35 Approximately 66 or 68 centimetres (26 or 27 inches) 36 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book IX, 66r–v. 37 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XI, 84r–85r. 38 An excellent summary of Filarete’s qualita can be seen in Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance, 165–170.

Filarete—Sforzinda

taxonomy. They had central courtyards of 30 × 60 braccia, and from these courtyards each of the guilds were assigned rooms. Over the doorways of each of the guilds were images of the inventor of each art.39 In Medieval and Renaissance cities individual guilds generally had their own guildhalls, but the political attitude towards guilds varied between republics and principalities in the Italian city-states. In the Republic of Venice, the guilds were an important part of the economy and trade gave the guilds greater political import. They were granted rights of self-administration, although overseen by office of the Doge, as early as the thirteenth century,40 but they had no direct political role. In the late thirteenth century the Florentine popolo, Italian for ‘people’, represented a non-noble political faction and organised the Florentine government as a federation or cooperation. It was guild membership that provided the basis for citizen participation in the affairs of the Republic, rather than family or social status.41 Filarete’s division of the guilds was similar to Florence’s guild structure, where the 21 guilds were divided into 14 minor guilds and seven major guilds.42 However, the guilds of Sforzinda appear to have no political power and are a purely professional organisation. During the Medieval period artists and artisans were humble craftsmen since God shaped man in his own image and established the laws that govern the universe in accordance with the celestial attributes of order, harmony and clarity. Art and invention was considered an earthly manifestation of God’s own infinite divine, rational and beautiful creation.43 The late thirteenth century power of the guilds in Florence survived into the fifteenth century and this power was through their mercantile value rather than their artistic value.44 However, in the Renaissance a critical change in the status of artists and artisans was assisted by the expanding power and wealth of the Italian rulers, such as the Medici in Florence and the Papacy in Rome. In 1435, Alberti published De pictura praestantissima where he demonstrated that painting was derived from the principles of both mathematics and rhetoric. In the Italian translation, Della Pittura, he did not dedicate this book to a painter but to an architect—Brunelleschi—whose technique of perspective was outlined in the book.45 Other writings on arts and architecture in the Humanist tradition by Alberti, Francesco di Giorgio, Piero della Francesca and many others had increased the status of artists in the Renaissance. Although attitudes were changing, this was a very slow process and there were distinct differences in attitudes between the city-states; at the time Filarete was a court architect of the Duke Sforza, he would have been considered no more than a court employee rather than the privileged figure that he considered himself to be in Libro Architettonico.46 It is claimed that the name Filarete, Greek for ‘a lover of virtue’, was adopted by him;47 however, although the name has been adopted for him there is no evidence that this name was used in his lifetime. In the dedication of Libro Architettonico he stated that this book was written ‘by your Filarete architect, Antonio Averlino’,48 implying an architect who loved virtue. For Alberti, virtue (virtù) was linked to aesthetic goals as well as ethical interaction within an efficient hierarchical system and a sense of honour that man would act for the benefit of society.49 This benefit for society was embodied in the traditional civic iconography 39 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book X, 75v. 40 Gerhard Rosch, ‘The Serrata of the Great Council; and Venetian Society, 1286–1323’, in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilisation of an Italian City-State, ed. John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore, Maryland: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 69. 41 Teresa Pugh Rupp, ‘“If You Want Peace, Work for Justice”: Dino Compagni’s Cronia and the Ordinances of Justice’, in Florence and Beyond: Culture, Society and Politics in Renaissance Italy, ed. David S. Peterson and Daniel E. Bornstein (Toronto: Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies Publications, 2008), 329. 42 Nicholas Scott Baker, The Fruits of Liberty: Political Culture in the Florentine Renaissance 1480–1550 (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2013), 8. 43 Charles R. Mack, Looking at the Renaissance: Essays Towards a Contextual Appreciation (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2008), 71. 44 Rupp, “‘If You Want Peace, Work for Justice”: Dino Compagni’s Cronia and the Ordinances of Justice’, 323–324. 45 Emma Barker, Nick Webb, and Kim Woods, ‘Historical Introduction; The Idea of the Artist’, in The Changing Status of the Artist, ed. Emma Baker, Nick Webb, and Kim Woods (London: The Open University Press, 1999), 15–17. 46 Giordano, ‘On Filarete’s Libro Architettonico’, 56. 47 Helen Rosenau, The Ideal City: Its Architectural Evolution in Europe (London and New York: Methuen and Co. Ltd, 1983), 48. 48 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, 1r. 49 Robert Tavernor, On Alberti and the Art of Building (New Haven, Connecticut and London: Yale University Press, 1998) 5; Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books, Book I, 6.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

of Florence, where virtù represented the Republic, and the civic liberty that was embodied in the image of David and Goliath and the overcoming of hardship.50 For Filarete, that sense of honour of virtue retained the benefit to society but was more related to the talents, creativity and inventions of the person. For instance, when admiring the plans of Plusiapolis in the Golden Book that had been designed by the ancient architect Zogalia, Averlino claimed, ‘when we saw that he was competent, we treated him in such a way that the others knew that we honoured his virtù’.51 This sense of virtue becomes an important aspect to the social fabric of Sforzinda. After designing most of the city Filarete, turned his attention to a school for boys that he declared that was going to be more than a school: they would teach every branch of knowledge and every skill. Although he mentioned the teaching of Canon Law, rhetoric, poetry and other traditional disciplines, he claimed: I intend that some manual arts should be taught here by their practitioners. The following should be in this place: a master painter, a silversmith, a master of carving in marble and one of wood, a turner, an ironsmith, a master in embroidery, a tailor, a pharmacist, a glassmaker, a master of clay, that is of beautiful vases.52

It would be a school for 20 poor boys who would be enrolled from the age of six to eight and would remain there until they were at least 20 or 24 at the most, unless they chose to be an apprentice to a trade or craft, when they would remain until 14. Although Filarete did not give an account of the curriculum, he discussed the structure and hierarchy of the tutors and the daily routine of the school, which emphasised training in the arts and trades. The school was to be called ‘Archicodomus, which means the beginning of virtue’.53 In the children’s daily routine, at lunchtime they would be accompanied by a master’s assistant to the workshops of the trades on their way to play in the garden, and on their return they would go back through a different set of workshops. In choosing teachers for the boys the person in charge should be from one of the three major crafts: a painter, a goldsmith, a sculptor or even woodworker. Each master was tested for his skills and had to be aligned with a guild. The guilds played an important role in the school and each guild had a room in the school for members in need. The school building was not described in any detail, and the only description that he gave dwells on the courtyard where the artisans’ workshops were situated. The size of these workshops depended upon the crafts, and over each door to the workshops was painted the inventor of that craft or trade.54 The ‘beginning of virtue’ was strongly aligned with the arts and trades. Filarete’s concept of virtù, or virtue, is most strongly seen in the largest and most extraordinary compound in Sforzinda. He gave two measurements for the compound, the first 1,500 × 750 braccia,55 which classified it as Doric, and the second 1,500 × 700 braccia,56 less than, but close to, the Doric order. In this compound Filarete’s taxonomy of architecture and society breaks down and was not applied to the buildings. The compound was ‘open to everyone. They go to train themselves in whatever faculty they choose’.57 The compound, to which Filarete does not give a name, consists of the House of Virtue and Vice, a circus, large areas of workshops and houses for the artisans, the Temple of Virtue and the House of the Architect. The description of the compound is in Books 18 and 19 and follows his description of the boy’s school. If the school was the ‘beginning of virtue’ the compound was the development of virtue. The position of the complex was not mentioned; but the positions of the central buildings, such as the cathedral, the central square, the Palace, the Piazza of the Merchants and the Piazza of the Markets, were described and there was no room for this compound in the centre. On his ground plan of the city (Figure 2.1) there is an unexplained rectangle on the upper right hand side that would be the correct proportion; presumably that was meant to be its position. Nevertheless, that rectangle is greatly out of scale; it would need to be a much larger size than depicted in the ground plan as it is by far the largest complex in Sforzinda. 50 Baker, The Fruits of Liberty: Political Culture in the Florentine Renaissance 1480–1550, 126. 51 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XV, 114r. 52 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVII, 132v. 53 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVII, 140r. 54 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVII. 55 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 143v. 56 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 146v. 57 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 146v.

Filarete—Sforzinda

The drawing of the ground plan of the compound is vague (see Figure 2.3), but there is more detailed description in the text. On the right-hand side, the short side of the compound, was the House of Virtue and Vice, and at the centre was a circus for horse and chariot racing. This surrounded a canal for naval battles. Towards the left-hand shorter side was a small forest, and on the far left was the Temple of Virtue. On both the long sides were the workshops and the artisans’ houses. The House of the Architect was the closest to the circus and the House of Virtue and Vice, which gave it a position of privilege. These workshops and houses took up the largest section of the compound, yet they were not in the areas zoned for the artisans in the city that Filarete later described. There were other circuses in Sforzinda that were more accessible to the public and not enclosed in a compound. This compound was purely for the development of virtue, and although it was in the city, it was enclosed and cut off from it. Virtue in this enclosure was achieved through education, creativity or athletic perfection.

2.3 The ground plan of the compound: a) House of Virtue and Vice; b) a circus; c) areas of workshops and houses for the artisans; and d) Temple of Virtue Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

This compound is an early example of architecture parlante, architecture as text, so that the building carried the message and symbolised its function. This form of architecture anticipated the eighteenth century architect Claude-Nicolas Ledoux’s utopian salt manufacturing town at Chaux, where the design of the buildings symbolised the function of the town.58 The seekers of virtue or vice must enter through the only external door of the compound and traverse the architecture in their quest for virtue or vice. The first building was the House of Virtue and Vice, which was a square building surrounding a cylindrical building that was crowned with a monumental statue of virtue (Figure 2.4). After entering the building, seekers must choose from two doors to progress through the building. On these doors were images of virtue or vice that remind the seeker of the difficulty of acquiring virtue or the pleasures and later pain of vice.59 Those who choose the door of the instant pleasures of vice go down to the House of Vice, which was housed in the lower floors of the circular building. They could go no further into the complex as there were no exits, and unfortunately Filarete was ambiguous about their fate, leaving the reader unsure as to whether they could even leave the House of Vice, particularly as two floors of the House of Vice were prisons. For the seekers who chose virtue, they entered through a sequence of 31 rooms in the square building, and in these rooms they read all of the sciences. Once they had progressed around the square building, the seekers 58 Hanno-Walter Kruft, A History of Architectural Theory: From Vitruvius to the Present (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1994), 55. 59 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, XVIII, 143v.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

2.4 Perspective images and ground plan of the House of Virtue and Vice Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

who were men-at-arms left through the complex, while the others progressed up into the circular building that continued for another eight floors. The first seven floors were dedicated to the seven liberal arts, and the seeker learned each liberal art as they progressed up through the building. The eighth floor was the ceremonial floor where the seeker obtained the seven virtues, three theological and four cardinal. Through this, Filarete gave virtù a strong Christian basis. The architecture, iconography and the ceremonies were elaborate, with the receiver of virtue receiving a wreath that was left with the monumental statue of virtue that crowns the building. After traversing the square building the men-of-arms moved through arches of triumph and down into the next part of the complex—the circus. Here tournaments were held; the emphasis was on obtaining virtue through success in battle. The victors were also rewarded with a wreath. To the sides of the circus were the workshops of the artisans. Each workshop had a garden and a well. The workshops were different sizes, according to the requirement of the craft or trade that was being practised, and carvings of the inventor of that trade or craft decorated the doorway. Just as the scholars and the soldiers were rewarded through excellence, so were the artisans. When the works of the artisan were judged to be worthy he was accompanied by all the members of his guild in a great procession to the Temple of Virtue. There the artisan’s work was dedicated to the Temple, and he was ‘registered in the Book of Masters and honoured as a master in every place. He was given a badge that accorded with his trade and that he always wore’. The badge was according the degree of his skill and he ‘always wore it like a nobleman’.60 60 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 148v.

Filarete—Sforzinda

The ceremonies for the soldiers and the artisans were held at the Temple, which was placed on the opposite side of the compound to the House of Virtue and Vice. The Temple’s architecture was a square of 200 braccia with a central rotunda and four towers in the corners of the square. Although it is not the same design as the House of Virtue and Vice, it consists of similar elements. Filarete’s description of the Temple was more pagan than Christian, and its main functions appear to be the ceremonies for the artisans becoming masters of their trade and the soldiers obtaining military leadership. The interior was tiered with steps and the building was capable of holding 100,000 people. Like the celebrations of achievement in the House of Virtue and Vice, the Temple and its architecture was rich with iconography and rituals. The entire compound was dedicated to the attainment and celebration of human achievement. Scholarly, military and artistic achievements were all equally valued and celebrated. The badge of the trades was proudly worn like the mark of nobility. The workshops of the compound were not for the production of goods for the consumption of the city, but for the perfection of the trade or craft, and through this the artisan obtained virtue. This concept was further enforced in the last building in this compound: the House of the Architect. Although Filarete’s house emphasised human achievement it was still hierarchical. The workshops of the artisans were organised in the ‘divisions of the guilds and also the order in which the trades are arranged’.61 The closer the artisans’ workshops were to the circus and to the House of Vice and Virtue the more ‘noble’ they were considered to be. The closest workshop was the House of the Architect. The iconography of this house particularly celebrated the inventors of human achievement. The House of the Architect was one of the most elaborately described buildings in Libro Architettonico. The house measured 34 × 102 braccia, a triple square, making it the highest status building in Sforzinda according to Filarete’s social and architectural taxonomy, which appears not to apply in the compound. Its facade had images of Virtue, Vice, Will, Talent, Reason, Memory and Fame, and included a portrait of the architect himself. The only other portraits in Sforzinda were of the Duke, and these were equestrian statues in the public squares. The compound was separate to the rest of the city; it operated with different social and architectural rules to the rest of Sforzinda, but it was clearly placed within the city. Filarete added to this separation by claiming that the architect of this compound was Onitoan Noliaver, the architect and creator of the golden book; however, his name is an anagram of Antonio Averlino. In the House of the Architect, like the House of Virtue and Vice, architects were examined and must pass exams in a similar way. Filarete claimed that architects must understand many skills and must demonstrate ‘rules of measuring, proportion, quality, suitability … He should know geometry, astrology, arithmetic, philosophy, music, rhetoric, and medicine. He should also know civil law. He should also be a historian and all those branches of knowledge’.62 This expected knowledge and examinations placed architects on a scholarly level. Images of the inventors were placed throughout the city but particularly in the two guildhalls, the boys’ school and workshops, where each guild was identified by its inventor. These inventors are not named or described, while in the House of the Architect over 250 inventors were named and depicted holding their invention. He also depicted those who were supreme in their trade or art. Filarete listed architects who were depicted with the buildings they had designed. This also gave architects a different status than the public would have been accustomed to in the mid-fifteenth century. There were many depictions of patrons holding the buildings they had sponsored, but not the architect. For instance, in a mosaic above the main door of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul is a representation of Emperor Justinian, who commissioned the church, holding a miniature model of Hagia Sophia while reaching towards the Virgin and Child. Generally in these dedications the architect was anonymous.63 However, it was not only the major trades that were celebrated by depicting their inventor; it were also the minor trades such as weaving and dyeing. Although the status of artists and artisans was changing in the Renaissance, in the mid-fifteenth century this was not widespread and many artists still did not sign their work. Rome, Florence and Venice were recognising this change in status. Only 12 years after Filarete 61 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 150r. 62 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XV, 114r. 63 Tessa Morrison, ‘Shifting Dimensions: The Architectural Model in History’, in Homo Faber: Modelling Architecture, ed. Mark Burry et al. (Melbourne: Spatial Information Architecture Laboratory, 2007), 142.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

had completed Libro Architettonico tradesmen and craftsmen began to be recognised for their inventions. In 1474, Venice was the first state in Europe to pass a law that protected the material and intellectual rights of inventors and established a form of modern patents.64 However, this enlightened attitude towards artisans had not impacted on the society of the seigniorial regime of Duke Sforza in Milan. Outside of the compound and in the city the guilds were organised into zones. The merchants, bankers and goldsmiths were established in the Piazza of the Merchants, while in the Piazza of the Market were the butchers’ shops and the inns. All the trades that used fire, such as the smiths dealing with iron, copper and tin and those that worked with glass, were to be in a separate street. The wool merchants’ guild and their subordinates, the weavers and dyers, were to live and practice in the same area, while the silk merchants and their subordinates lived in another. The barbers and pharmacists, as well as some of the minor guilds that dealt with the necessities of life were scattered throughout the city for greater convenience to the population, while the ‘grosser trades’; for example the coopers, the shipwrights and the wheelwrights, lived and practised outside of the walls in suburbia.65 The major and minor guild structure that Filarete implied was similar to the one that was practised in Florence.66 Filarete ensured a significant role for the artisan in his ideal city. He guaranteed that they had suitable education and training in both the school and the complex, thereby giving each individual citizen some liberty of choice. The reality in Milan was entirely different under Duke Sforza. The guilds and other institutions that dominated the other city-states, like Florence, were overshadowed by the nobility and the Duke. Although many of the merchants could become as wealthy as the nobles, they were devoid of any political power.67 Additionally, the Duke of Sforza exercised control over teaching and close vigilance over many aspects of teaching in the cities, including the levels of the salaries of the teachers, and legislated on classrooms.68 However, he did attempt to modernise the city: in 1452 Sforza commissioned Filarete to work on the Milan Cathedral and to design a central tower for the Milan castle that is now called the Torre del Filarete. He founded a hospital, Ospedale Maggiore, which was designed by Filarete and begun in 1456. There were significant problems with building Filarete’s original plan and he gave up the project in 1465.69 Filarete had constant problems in attempting to change what he considered to be Milan’s old-fashioned architecture to a more enlightened architecture that was being constructed in his native Florence.70 However, in Libro Architettonico he described the city and its buildings as he wanted them built. Sforza had to raise large sums of money through taxation to support his military and defensive priorities. His architectural ambitions clearly did not have the same significance, and there were many complaints from painters, sculptors and merchants who had not been paid despite many promises, which suggests cultural initiatives were not being funded and were considered a low priority for him.71 Libro Architettonico is a difficult book to read and is inconsistent, yet it presents an intriguing image of two societies within the one city. The society of the central plan of the city was extremely hierarchical, with the Duke at the top of the hierarchy. Here Filarete’s taxonomy orders the structure of the society and architecture according to their class. However, those in the society within the compound are assessed through their skill and rewarded accordingly. Averlino claimed that the Duke ‘is generous to those who possess virtù. Through him many noble intelligences have been awakened that would otherwise still be asleep’.72 Nobility 64 Francesca Trivellato, ‘Guilds, Technology and Economic Change in Early Modern Venice’, in Guilds, Innovation, and the European Economy, 1400–1800, ed. S. R. Epstein and Maarten Prak (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 222. 65 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XXI, 171r & v. 66 Richard A. Goldthwaite, The Economy of Renaissance Florence (Baltimore, Maryland: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009), 342–349. 67 Gregory Lubkin, A Renaissance Court: Milan under Galeazzo Maria Sforza (Los Angeles and Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), 161. 68 Peter Denley, ‘City and Countryside in Late Medieval and Renaissance Italy’, in Governments and Schools in Late Mediaeval Italy, ed. Trevor Dean and Chris Wickham (London: Hambledon Press, 1990), 106. 69 Giordano, ‘On Filarete’s Libro Architettonico’, 51–52. 70 Vulpi, ‘Finding Filarete: The Two Libro Archittectonico’, 338. 71 Evelyn S. Welch, Art and Authority in Renaissance Milan (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1996), 138. 72 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XV, 114v.

Filarete—Sforzinda

2.5 a) Sforzinda Cathedral as depicted in Libro Architettonico; b) Sforzinda Cathedral as described in the text of Libro Architettonico Source: Drawn by Author from Filarete 1965.

was gained through skills, rather than birth. Although the guilds were disempowered of political means, Filarete empowered the individual by means of virtue that was gained through ability. When describing the construction of the House of Virtue and Vice to the Prince, Averlino claimed ‘it is difficult to understand this. However, force your intelligence a little’.73 This could apply to the entire compound, but within the compound he clearly saw the possibility of a more equitable society where scholars, soldiers and artisans were on an equal footing and were assessed by their skills: a truly ideal city. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Libro Architettonico described many of the buildings in detail. Filarete attempted to demonstrate one of each type of his taxonomy in the text and backed up his description with an elevation, section or ground plan. He described a type of drawing called ‘relief drawing’, that was made on squared paper. The technique was derived from the squaring of the panel for a prospective construction; this was first explained in Alberti’s Della Pittura. However, it appears that Filarete was the first to apply this technique to architectural drawing.74 Although the drawings are not as refined as they could be, they are reasonably comprehensive, with the occasional exception. One of these exceptions is the Cathedral, where the description in the text and the drawings are not consistent (see Figure 2.5). Nevertheless, most of the buildings that are described are relatively easy to reconstruct using the text and the illustrations. However, placing the individual buildings in his given ground plan can be problematic, for although he explained the position of each building, the measurements do not fit within the size of the piazzas that he 73 Filarete, Filarete’s Treatise on Architecture, Book XVIII, 144r. 74 Spiro Kostof, The Architect: Chapters in the History of the Profession (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000), 143.

2.6 Elevations of a) The Palace of the Commune in the Merchant’s Piazza; b) one of the palaces in the Merchant’s Piazza; c) The hospital Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Filarete 1965.

2.7 The ground plan of Sforzinda and the compound, which no longer fits in the city plan, after adjustments of Filarete’s proportions in the text Source: Drawn by Author from the description in the text in Filarete 1965.

Filarete—Sforzinda

specified. For example, the Piazza of the Merchants (Figure 2.2a and Plate 1) is 96 × 186 braccia. There are 13 buildings within this piazza and two colonnaded piazzas. The function of two of these buildings is not designated, although they are possibly the schools; the position of the schools is not specified in the text, but their position would more likely be nearer to the Cathedral. Out of the other 11 buildings, only eight are given measurements. The area of these eight buildings is 32,000 square braccia without including walkways or roads, which is close to double the area specified by Filarete for the entire piazza. To accommodate all of the buildings at a similar scale to that described by Filarete the piazzas would need to be close to four times the size specified. It is a similar case for the Piazza of the Market (Plate 2). Additionally, the Cathedral and related buildings and the Palace of the Duke and related buildings are also much larger than indicated on Filarete’s ground plan. As specified earlier, the compound is 1,500 × 750 or 700 braccia and presumably is the rectangle in the upper right-hand corner of the central circuit of the ground plan, but its representation is a fraction of its actual size. Figure 2.7 shows the ground plan of Sforzinda and the compound corrected to the proportions that Filarete described. However, presuming that the original ground plan of the city was to scale with the central buildings, the compound cannot fit into the city walls. This comparison shows the importance of the centre and the dominant size of the compound, which demonstrates its importance in Filarete’s philosophy. 5. Conclusion Libro Architettonico was written 50 years before Thomas More’s Utopia and, like More, Filarete expressed his social theory through a city: in his narrative More discovered the city, while Filarete built the city. Both are attempting to embody their social theories in an urban context. Even though Sforzinda can be considered to be the first detailed plan for an ideal city, it was an abstract model. Like Utopia and many other utopian cities from literature, Sforzinda was detached from any real link with any territory. Although it was ‘constructed’ for the Duke of Milan, the sites described are nothing like the territories of Milan. Filarete was expressing his architectural and social theory through the construction of Sforzinda, a city, like Utopia, that is nowhere and has no place. The fancifulness of some of the text and the poor grammar can hide the innovation within the text. While some of the ideas and concepts of Libro Architettonico may appear rough or crude; for example, his ceremonies for laying the foundations of Sforzinda are an odd mixture of pagan and Christian rituals, yet it predated Hermetic philosophy, which propagated similar ideas and was extremely influential.75 It was written at a time of changing ideas and it reflected many of the ideas and attitudes of the fifteenth century. Alberti believed that in the city of the tyrant, the centre should be given over to the rabble of the poor.76 In Filarete’s plan of Sforzinda for Duke Sforza, he proved the opposite: that the central part can be used to concentrate the power of the tyrant. In Sforzinda all the political, religious, administrative and mercantile institutions were in the city centre. Typically in the mid-fifteenth century, guildhalls and magistrates would have been scattered around the city. However, by bringing them together in the centre, Filarete anticipated the self-proclaimed Duke of Florence Cosimo (I) Medici’s building of the Uffizi, 100 years later. The Uffizi housed all of the guilds and magistrates and concentrated power near the Palazzo della Signoria, the heart of the Medician government.77 This concentration of power in the centre disempowered the final fragments of the old Florentine Republic of the popolo. Although Filarete’s central plan can be seen as the ideal plan for a tyrant, and it appears that he was developing an architecture for supporting Sforza’s regime, nevertheless, while he disempowered the guilds in the centre of the city, he empowered them through the education system in the school and compound, but also through the zone system in the city. In Libro Architettonico there are two conflicting social structures. This theory of zones that was begun with Alberti and refined by Filarete was further discussed by painter, sculptor

75 This is further discussed in Chapter 4. 76 Pearson, Humanism and the Urban World: Leon Battista Alberti and the Renaissance City, 58. 77 Henk Th van Veen, Cosimo I De’ Medici and His Self-Representation in Florentine Art and Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 81.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

and architect Francesco di Giorgio Martini’s architectural treatise, Trattato di Architettura, written over many years and completed in the 1490s. Alberti does not discuss the house of the poor man or artisan. Filarete gave the proportions of the ground plan of houses for a poor man, an artisan, merchant, gentleman, Bishop and the Duke, but he does not describe the architecture of the poor man and the average artisan’s house. Di Giorgio described six levels of domestic dwellings, but unlike Filarete, he described the poor man’s house and provided drawings of these plans. The proportions of the artisans’ houses are a fraction of what Filarete prescribed.78 Despite devising different houses for the different social groups, di Giorgio hardly made reference to the ornamentation or ‘dressing’ of those buildings.79 However, there were strong influences from both Alberti and Filarete.80 In Book Three of Trattato di Archittetura di Giorgio considered citadels and town planning. He did not make the analogy of man and architecture like Filarete, but considered man and the cosmos. He derived 22 rules regarding the composition of a city. There is a strong similarity with Filarete’s central plan and the placement of the buildings. All significant buildings were placed around the main piazza, with the most important buildings closest to the piazza, making it the true centre of the city. The taverns and bordellos were to be kept away from the government buildings, such as the magistrate’s courts and prisons. In these rules he also described the zones of the artisans. Di Giorgio grouped the trades and placed them in zones that did not inconvenience the suburbs. For example, the tanners and leather-makers, because their work creates odours and noise, were located away from the public areas. Slaughterhouses were placed at the very edge of the city, but butchers could be spread around town for the convenience of the city. The guilds that included painters, artists, silk workers and merchants were to be placed in the most used street, because it added beauty to the city.81 Di Giorgio’s designs empowered neighbourhood convenience and aesthetics rather than the working conditions of the artisans. Although di Giorgio presented a more detailed and perhaps better town planning concept, there was a greater division in the guilds and he neglected the moral and social uses of architecture that were considered by Alberti and Filarete. In 1468, a contemporary praised di Giorgio for his virtù in architecture, which was founded on the art of arithmetic and geometry, the most important of the seven liberal arts.82 The connection of virtù with learning, skill, talent and achievement was recognised by others, and it was not just Filarete who raised the status of artisans. In many ways Libro Architettonico is an unsatisfactory book: the crudeness in its writing; its contradictions, particularly in its measurements and designs; its fantasies and elaborate rituals, and the two social systems that exist within the one city undermine its credibility. However, it is an emblematic book that explored new ideas, while attempting to remain in the seigniorial regime in which Filarete lived and worked. In Sforzinda, Filarete used a taxonomy of the orders and proportions to order the city and the hierarchy of the society. In the enclosed compound this taxonomy broke down, but he used an early example of architecture parlante, where the meaning of the building was instilled in the architecture. Within this compound Filarete used architecture and social institutions to attempt to change society for the better. Although More clearly articulated this concept in Utopia, Filarete was the first to codify such a concept; this makes Libro Architettonico not only the first detailed plan of an ideal city; it also makes it a revolutionary book in the history of ideas.

78 James S. Ackerman and Myra Nan Rosenfeld, ‘Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture’, in Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture, Different Dwellings from the Meanest Hovel to the Most Ornate Palace (New York: Architectural History Foundation, 1978), 28 and Figure 7. 79 Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance, 178. 80 Kruft, A History of Architectural Theory: From Vitruvius to the Present, 55–58. 81 Francesco di Giorgio, Vitruvio Magliabechiano Di Francesco Di Giorgio Martini, trans. Gustina Scaglia (Florence: Gonnelli, 1985), Chapter 3. 82 Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages, and the Renaissance, 172.

Chapter 3

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

1. Background What became known as the ‘Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation’ was a multinational mixture of groups who spoke German, French, Dutch, Frisian, Serbian, Czech, Slovenian, Italian, Latin and Rhaeto-Romanic. It was an empire with no borders, since it originated from feudal relationships between a king and vassals; its borders varied as the political relationships changed. However, despite the name of ‘German Nation’ it did not include all the German-speaking settlements. In theory the Holy Roman Empire held territories in South Italy, Germany and Burgundy, but its boundaries were not static. Nevertheless, by 1500 there was the emergence of a ‘German’ Reich.1 The empire consisted of free and imperial cities; the free cities could be governed by a duke, a count or under the authority of a bishop, while the imperial cities were run by a council and were only answerable to the Emperor. There were some 70 cities, and the Holy Roman Emperor was elected by the secular and ecclesiastical princes of the free cities.2 In 1486, Maximillian I became the Holy Roman Emperor. He encouraged a renewal of ‘German’ culture, as evoked by the ancient Roman historian Tacitus, and encouraged a new spirit of revival that became a widespread scholarly movement that was dedicated to recapturing a distinct national German past.3 The Imperial city of Nuremberg had an eminent reputation for the quality of its artisans’ workshops, and it continued an active trade that was far-reaching. Nuremberg artist Albrecht Dürer is one of the significant figures of the German Renaissance and his work epitomised Maximillian’s spirit of revival. In Dürer’s lifetime Nuremberg was the centre of German Humanism. Although Dürer had an elementary education he counted among his personal friends Germany’s leading Humanists, such as his closest friend and confidant Willibald Pirckheimer, who was one of Germany’s most influential Humanists and was a prolific translator of essential ancient texts by Xenophon, Lucian, Isocrates, Plutarch and Plato from Greek into Latin and German. He strove to cultivate the study of humanity and the utopian ideals in Germany. Pirckheimer’s translations were influential and had universal appeal with international scholars. Pirckheimer had a close relationship with Erasmus, with whom he corresponded.4 The Swiss edition of Thomas More’s Utopia, published in 1518, possibly under the auspices of Erasmus, was dedicated to Pirckheimer.5 The Humanist circle that Dürer frequented included some of the greatest German minds of the time, such as Konrad Celtis, Poet Laureate, who was often dubbed the ‘arch humanist’; the Augsburg Humanist and diplomat Konrad Peutinger, who allowed all interested people access to his extensive library, including Albrecht Dürer; the theologian-poet Johann Cochläus; the astronomer Niklas Kratzer, who met Dürer at Erasmus’s house in the Netherlands; Benedictus Chelidonius, the author of the Latin poetry that served as a text to Dürer’s Marienleban and Beatus Rhenanus, who was known as Erasmus’ ‘alter ego’.6 All were 1 Joachim Whaley, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire: Volume I: Maximilian I to the Peace of Westphalia 1493–1648 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 19–20. 2 Whaley, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire, 26. 3 Larry Silver, ‘Germanic Patriotism in the Age of Durer’, in Durer and His Culture, ed. Dagmar Eichberger and Charles Zika (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). 4 Hanan Yoran, Between Utopia and Dystopia: Erasmus, Thomas More and the Humanist Republic of Letters (Plymouth: Lexington Books, 2010), 66. 5 Jane Campbell Hutchison, Albrecht Dürer: A Biography (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1990), 49. 6 Jane Campbell Hutchison, Albrecht Durer: A Guide to Research (New York and London: Garland Publishing Inc, 1999), 1–2.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

personal friends of Dürer, as were many other Humanists, reformers and artists. Like Filarete, Dürer’s Humanist circle of friends exposed him to literature covering the ideals of the Italian Renaissance and the ancient world. Intellectual advances were established, first in the sciences and law, and then gradually extended to the arts during the last years of the fifteenth century and the opening decades of the sixteenth century. The rise of Humanism in Nuremberg was one significant reason for this expansion.7 Contemporary authors could draw upon structures and the dramatic ideas of Cicero, Virgil or Ovid. The developments were not only in literature, but also in architecture and mathematics. The scholar could refer to the ancient Roman architectural theorist Vitruvius’ Canon of Proportions and Greek mathematician Euclid’s thoughts on geometry in order to perfect their figure forms. For Dürer, geometry was the foundation of all painting.8 The Nuremberg Humanist circle exerted a great deal of influence on Dürer and he wanted to find out everything that was connected to art, its origins, its developmental stages, its styles and, importantly, how this knowledge could be passed on to others, in particular to young German artists.9 Despite these intellectual developments there was also religious turmoil in Germany. Martin Luther printed his 95 theses that began the Reformation in 1517. The Reformation played a significant role in Nuremberg’s history. There was a large group of influential men in Nuremberg who were receptive to, and well acquainted with, Luther’s theological ideas. Even before the establishment of Lutheranism, Nuremberg had become religiously controversial by early 1520s.10 The Humanist circle of Nuremberg was vocal in their support for Luther. Dürer wrote to Georg Spalatin, Chaplain to Lord, Duke Friedrich, the Elector of Saxony in 1520, asking him to send him Luther’s book.11 He clearly received it, for in May 1521 when it was rumoured that Luther had been taken prisoner by Emperor Charles and believed murdered, Dürer lamented his passing and appealed to God to send another enlightened man in his place. He claimed that ‘whoever reads Martin Luther’s books may see how clear and transparent his doctrine is for he teaches the Holy Gospel’.12 For all his devotion to Luther, and despite the pressure of his friends who wished for his active participation in the movement of reform, he made no practical effort to support the movement.13 In 1524 Nuremberg revolted against the Roman Catholic Church and it became the first Imperial city to adopt Lutheranism.14 In the midst of this religious upheaval was the Peasants’ Revolt of 1524–1525 throughout Germany, which led to disruption throughout the cities and the slaughter of over 100,000 ill-armed and poorly-led peasants. In this period Dürer began to write Etliche Unterricht, zur Befestigung der Städte, Schlösser und Flecken (Instruction on the Fortification of Cities, Castles and Towns). Dürer lived through a time of contradictions. On one hand, it was a time of rebirth and a new age of science and art, the beginning of the Renaissance in Germany. On the other hand, it was a time of religious turmoil, economic uncertainty and violent revolts. Nuremberg was a fortified city that enabled some security, but medieval cities were unhealthy places; they were cramped, had ineffective sanitation and poor housing. In some of the German cities the artisans’ status and working conditions were poor. Dürer strove to improve these conditions through education. He aimed to teach the secrets of his trade, to better enlighten the artisans so that they would not have to go through the same hardships he had endured as an apprentice and as a master artisan. Dürer wished to improve their status and conditions in society. Part of that improvement was the housing of the artisans, particularly since their houses were also their workshops, and their livelihoods were seriously impaired by poor housing. Dürer outlined an ideal city in his book on fortification Etliche Unterricht that would improve working and living conditions for the artisan. 7 Jeffrey Chipps Smith, Nuremberg: A Renaissance City, 1500–1618 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983), 39. 8 Albrecht Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung, ed. David Price (Octavo, 2003), A1v. 9 Peter Strieder, The Hidden Dürer, trans. Vivienne Menkes (Milan: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore, 1976), 12. 10 Gerald Strauss, Nuremberg in the Sixteenth Century (New York, London and Sydney: John Wiley & Son, 1966), 163. 11 Martin Conway, Literary Remains of Albecht Dürer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1889), 89. 12 Albrecht Dürer, Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, trans. Roger Eliot Fry (1913), 86. 13 Marcel Brion, Albrecht Dürer: His Life and Work (London: Thames and Hudson, 1960), 262. 14 Smith, Nuremberg: A Renaissance City, 1500–1618, 4.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

2. Etliche Unterricht, zur Befestigung der Städte, Schlösser und Flecken Etliche Unterricht was published in 1527, and in many ways it was a ground-breaking book. Dürer was the first to place large illustrations on foldout sheets opposite the text; the book was the first comprehensive book on military architecture and it was the first book to provide a full set of architectural plans with ground plans, sections and elevations on the one page for the buildings described. However, from a modern perspective it would appear to be a very dull book and its utopian significance is lost in the overwhelming measurements and discussion of architectural structure. Etliche Unterricht is a comprehensive manual written to instruct a ruler on building and improving the fortification of a city. It is dedicated to the embattled Ferdinand I, King of Hungary and Bohemia (the future Holy Roman Emperor) who was under imminent threat by the Turks. Dürer claimed: Since many outrageous things are now occurring in our time, I consider it necessary to think about how a fortification must be built in which kings, princes, lords and cities can defend themselves, not merely so that a Christian may protect himself from another, but also so the countries situated near the Turks may be saved from their violence and their cannonballs. I therefore intend to show how such a construction could be erected, in the hope of improving the knowledge of those familiar with the customs of war and of those who have seen and experienced a great deal.15

Dürer proved to be correct in his assumption: it was only two years after the publication of this book that the first siege of Venice by the Turks took place.16 However, in this book is the description of a city within the fortifications that surround a palace precinct. This was a city where the artisans lived and worked. Dürer made it clear that the city was not for everyone. ‘The Lord shall not allow useless people to live in this fortress, but talented, high, wise, manly, experienced, skilful men, good tradesman who are capable with respect to fortifications, rifle-makers and good marksmen’.17 It was a city of skilled artisans who were valued by their sovereign, and they were housed in safe, healthy and suitable buildings for their trades and homes. In Etliche Unterricht, Dürer designed the fortifications and the architecture for a powerful and wealthy lord. He strongly believed that lack of money and haste in building fortifications led to disaster and that large earthworks decayed very quickly, leaving a city vulnerable to its enemies. The plans that he outlined were for extremely expensive structures and would not only strengthen the city’s fortification but would also be a statement of the power and the authority of the ruler. The Egyptian pharaohs built the pyramids to last and they were a statement of their power, but these had no purpose, unlike a strongly-fortified city. However, he also considered the labour issues, as such defences not only would cost a great deal but they would be very labour-intensive, and a wise and benevolent ruler could mobilise his people. The lords have many poor people whom they must feed by giving them alms; if they are paid a daily wage for their work, they will have no need to beg and are thus less likely to be moved to revolt. It is also better for a lord to spend a great deal of money on building in order to remain the ruler than to be conquered by his enemy in a battle and driven out of his land, as any person of low intelligence can easily understand.18

This was the action of a benevolent and prudent king. Lord Ferdinand was fortifying many cities and towns after the Peasants’ Revolt of 1525,19 and this may have been the reason for Dürer’s dedication of the book.

15 Albrecht Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken (Nuremburg: 1527), Ai. 16 Jorn Münker, ‘The Art of Defying the Enemy: Albercht Dürer’s Concept of the Ars Fortificatoria’, in War and Peace: Critical Issues in European Societies and Literature 800–1800, ed. Albrecht Classen and Nadia Margolis (Berlin and Boston, Massachusetts: Walter de Gruyer GmbH & Co, 2011), 494. 17 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Diii. 18 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Ai. 19 Thomas F. Sea, ‘The German Princes’ Responses to the Peasants Revolt of 1525’, Central European History 40, no. 2 (2007).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

The book has 21 detailed illustrations that accompany the text; it has no chapters but can be divided into four main sections: the construction of bastions; the construction of a city around the fortified residence of the powerful ruler; a description of the circular fortress that would protect the borders of the ruler’s lands, and strengthening the fortifications of an existing city. Dürer’s scheme had multiple tiers of gun emplacements in massive semi-circular towers, flanked by isolated casements in the ditch. The multi-levelled gun tower was possibly the most common early Northern European solution, particularly in Germany and Poland.20 However, Dürer presented the King with a comprehensive plan for the fortifications of cities. Dürer outlined plans for three different types of bastions: two alternative constructions, plus a third that was for a less expensive bastion. These bastions could be added to existing cities. The location of the bastions should be on the corners of the city wall and the city wall would be surrounded by a lined moat in front of the bastions that would be 200 feet wide and 55 feet deep. The bastions projected out into the moat at a considerable width: this moat was dry, as Dürer claimed that ‘deep wet moats are more adventurous’,21 but he failed to say in what way they were more adventurous. Dürer designed the plan of the bastions using Euclidean geometry; they were planned as perfect geometrical structures using a compass and straightedge. He gave detailed directions of their geometrical structures. His bastions had sloped walls that gave the appearance of a low building at ground level, since the ditches were deep. ‘Bastions of this kind must be heavily vaulted [with] secret underground entrances and exits whose gateways are covered by buildings so they can remain in constant hidden contact with the town’.22 Smoke from the firing of the guns from inside the bastions made it difficult to see and affected the lungs; to address this hazard smoke vents and air holes were required for the removal of smoke and poor ventilation. He then turned to the fortified city. The city should be situated on: … a fertile plain on the north side of which is located a high forested mountain range, thus ensuring that the builders shall never lack for timber nor stone. On this mountain range one shall locate vantage points that have secret entrances and exits and to which the enemy can only gain access with great difficulty. From these vantage points one can oversee the area and send signals by means of smoke, fire or rifle shots. The town shall be located a short mile from the mountain range, with a large body of flowing water to its south that cannot be diverted, but which can be guided through all the ditches so that one can raise fish therein.23

Dürer’s city with its fortifications was a square of 4,300 feet. Close to half of this area was dedicated to the fortifications and ditches that protected the city (Figure 3.1). The city itself surrounded the royal precinct, which was a square of 1,012 feet and was surrounded by a high wall and a ditch. The city that surrounded it was a square of 2,212 feet (Figure 3.2). Within the central royal precinct the palace was built in a square of 800 feet. It was to be based on the architectural details provided by the Roman architectural theorist Vitruvius. The palace was surrounded by an outer wall that was 16 feet wide and 40 feet high and surrounded by a ditch that Dürer called the ‘Royal Ditch’ or the ‘King’s Ditch’, which was 50 feet deep and 60 feet wide. The outer wall had four gates with four drawbridges so that the King could come to his people on all sides whenever he wished. Over the gates that extended over the ditches there were four round towers of 135 feet high. These were to be fitted out as fine houses and be provided with flat roofs. On one corner of the outer wall of the Royal precinct was a high tower of 214 feet; this tower was tapered, with the upper width being only half the size of the lower width (see Plates 4 and 5). From the top of the tower it was possible to oversee the whole area and ring a bell in times of trouble. In this tower was a choir with a chapel built onto it. 20 Simon Pepper and Nicholas Adams, Firearms and Fortifications: Military Architecture and Siege Warfare in Sixteenth-Century Siena (Chicago and London: University of Chicago, 1986), 22. 21 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Aii. 22 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Cii. 23 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Diii.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

3.1 Dürer’s ground plan of the fortifications Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

Figure 3.1 is a ground plan of the fortifications of the city. The four corners of the city were directed to face the four winds, with the east corner facing the corner indicated by the letter A, the west facing Corner B, the south facing Corner C and the north facing Corner D; the letter E indicates the Royal Precinct; F, the wall around the precinct; G, the Royal Ditch and H, the area of the city. The wall around the city (I) is 60 feet in height from ground level, 150 feet wide at ground level and 100 feet wide at the upper level. This wall is surrounded by a lined ditch that has vertical walls. The ditch is enclosed by a 150 foot wide cobbled walkway (L). This in turn is bounded by a masonry wall (M) that is arranged in the same manner as the inner wall, but 10 feet lower. This wall is surrounded by another ditch (N) which is 150 feet wide and 50 feet deep, while the letter O indicates a wide level area left vacant and P is a very wide ditch. Finally, Q is the dirt that is excavated from the ditches, which makes a bank.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

3.2 Dürer’s plan of the city Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

The arrangement of the subdivisions of the city accommodated and complemented the different groups and trade within the city. Figure 3.2 shows Dürer’s arrangement for each building within the city. The arrangement was hierarchical, and the trades were conveniently placed next door to their complementary trades for utility, convenience and pollution prevention within the city. Table 3.1 shows the key to the buildings illustrated in Figure 3.2. The large majority of the city was for the artisans, and the only area that was not was beside the main gate to the city. The first two buildings near the gate were the domestic quarters of the captains, standard bearers, sergeants and the most distinguished fighting men, presumably to protect the gate. Notably, there was no other military presence within the fortified city. Several buildings near the gate were reserved for stately homes and nobles, and four buildings were reserved for the King’s visitors, otherwise the rest of the city was clearly defined for the trades. Trades that

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

complemented each other were placed next to each other, such as Building 36 for the wagon-makers and saddlers, while Building 37 was for the bridle-makers and armour-makers. Each building was different in size, and the size was dependent upon the trade; for example, the timber workers had longer houses so that they could store their planks in their workshop (see Figure 3.5). All the other trades that were not labelled did not need much space for their trade and were located in the remaining houses. Businesses such as the money changers, spices, silk, gold and silver merchants and distinguished apothecaries had vaults around the Royal Ditch, while other small stall holders and barbers were distributed around all four sides equally. Dürer defined a clear and comprehensive zone system for the trades. Table 3.1

The key of the buildings illustrated in Figure 3.2

Building number

Purpose of building

Building 1–7

The religious sector, containing the church, the choir, the bell tower, sacristy, presbytery, an enclosed garden and accommodation for the priest

Buildings 8, 9, 10, 11

The casting works

Area 12

The market

Building X (14)

The stately homes

Buildings 15, 16

Domestic quarters for the captains, standard bearers, sergeants and the most distinguished fighting men

Buildings 17, 18

Homes for nobles

Building 19–21

Domestic buildings for people

Buildings 22–25

Houses of the coppersmiths, moulders, turners, all smiths and tradespeople that were required for the casting works and their production

Buildings 26 and 30

Two armouries

Buildings 27, 28, 31, 32

Domestic buildings with two baths; one for female and one for male

Buildings 29, 33, 40, 45, 53, 54

Twelve taverns

Building 34

Timber works

Building 35

Domestic quarters for timber workers

Building 36

Buildings for the wagon-makers and for the saddlers

Building 37

Buildings for the bridle-makers and the armour-makers

Building 38

Buildings for the spur-makers and weapon smiths

Building 39

Buildings for the carpenters and the horn turners

Buildings40, 41, 44 and 45

Buildings reserved for the King’s visitors

Buildings 42

Buildings for the rope-makers and the tailors

Buildings 43

Buildings for the furriers and the leather-workers

Building 46

Buildings for small merchants, flax weavers, cloth-workers and tent-makers

Buildings 47

Buildings for the shoemakers

Building 48

Buildings for the King’s goldsmiths, artists, sculptors, embroiderers and stone masons

Building 49

Buildings for the pewterers, the jewellers, needle-makers and similar metal workers

Building 50

Buildings for the tinsmiths, the boilermakers and 30 embossers

Building 51

Buildings for the armourers and the helmsmiths

Building 52

Storehouse for foods

Buildings 55, 56

Storehouse and buildings where meat was sold

Buildings 57, 58

Buildings for the bakers

Buildings 59, 60

Buildings for the brewers

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

3.3 Elevation and sections of Dürer’s circular Fortress Source: Drawn by Author from Dürer 1527.

Having described the city and its fortifications, Dürer turned to a circular fortified hermitage that would close off the territory at that point. This had geometrically perfect symmetry and was located between the sea on one side and the mountains or high rocks that could not be scaled on the other. The plan of the hermitage was circular, 1,100 feet in diameter, and with two arms that extended from the sea to the mountains (see Figure 3.3). The central structure consisted of two circuits surrounding a courtyard of 400 feet in diameter. This hermitage was heavily fortified, with drawbridges, ditches, a large circular bastion, gun platforms on top of the two circuits and a tower 150 feet high to enable surveillance of the surrounding area. In the final section, Dürer examined strengthening an existing city. He advised that ‘If a graceful city was surrounded by well-built towers, outer wards and ditches, but was unable to resist the artillery of today sufficiently, one should not dismantle this fortification’,24 but should reinforce the existing structures. He recommended ditches of 80 feet deep, with the soil from the ditches being used to create ledges, casements in the bed of the ditch and ramparts. It is possible that this last section was influenced by Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Art of War, published in 1521. Machiavelli valued field fortifications and earthworks that support the army, and he advocated deep ditches around city walls to assist in the protection of the city, but he came to the realisation that high walls were subject to blows by the enemy’s artillery and could collapse under fire, which made them easy to scale, leaving the city vulnerable.25 Dürer finished the book with a final address to the King, hoping that he had delivered some service to him but ending on a warning note: [That] what is required to maintain such a fortress is good artillery, all the necessities of war and, above all, pious and manly men who can defend themselves trustily; for without such men, whom every prince and lord is able to procure depending on his opportunities, every fortification is useless.26

In many ways the book is unsatisfactory. It appears to be written in a hurry and is incomplete in its detail. In a working manuscript at the British Library, Ms 5229, many of the diagrams’ geometric structures have 24 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Fi. 25 Niccolo Machiavelli, Art of War (Radford, Virginia: Wilder Publications, 2008). 26 Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Fiii.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

points of construction, marked by letters of the alphabet on the diagrams that correspond with the text. In the published book, some of the diagrams are missing a few of these marked points and in one case no points are marked on the diagram, making the text difficult to follow.27 Dürer only mentioned one source, Vitruvius, whom he described as ‘the renowned Vitruvius’.28 He did not mention any contemporary architectural work on fortifications or urban planning such as Alberti, Filarete or di Giorgio. Although there are comparisons with Machiavelli’s earthworks and ditches, he did not acknowledge him. It is possible that the final plan came from personal observation from his travels and his connections with soldiers and military architects. He was also an eyewitness to the siege of the medieval town of Hohenasperg while on his way to Italy in 1519. Dürer produced a sketch of the siege and the heavy bombardment.29 The sketch reveals the vertical city wall being breached by the heavy artillery shelling. However, throughout the book there is a strong emphasis on geometry and landscape. The bastions and urban spaces strictly conform to Euclid’s geometrical structures. The city is divided into a grid of 16 squares—12 squares for the city and four for the Royal precinct—and each of these squares has its own system of subdivision depending on its use. Dürer’s study of Euclid was intense and his notebooks held at the British Library show many solutions for geometrical problems promulgated by Euclid. Dürer built on traditional military architecture in his work on fortification, and particularly in his designs of semi-circular bastions. His bastions are clearly influenced by a northern European tradition, but he is significant since he developed the first theoretical analysis of these bastions. This made him influential not only in Germany, but also in the Protestant territories and northern Europe, where his growing reputation preceded him as an established polymath.30 The development of the Italian angular bastions superseded Dürer’s designs. These angular bastions became the new ‘International style par excellence of the Renaissance’31 only a few years after the publication of his book. Dürer’s colossal edifices were very much a statement of power. Although Dürer alluded to the cost and resources of his designs by comparing the usefulness of a well-fortified city to the uselessness of the pyramids, the amount of building material, human workforce, expert supervision and capital necessity to implement a system of such monumental proportions was beyond the resources of almost any king. Although elements of Dürer’s system of fortification can be found in Northern Europe and England, he made little impact on military engineering and he has been ignored by architectural historians. Yet Dürer reorganised urban space so that it should be structured in a perfect and hierarchical order as far as the formation of the social groups and functional units were concerned, and he created an ideal artisans’ city. The centralised plan with four gates on each side of the palace precinct highlighted the interaction of the king with his people. However, in his plan for the city he does not design a palace; he only designed the city for the artisans. Dürer’s ideal city was an attempt to improve the conditions and status of the German artisan, and this ideal is reflected in his other writings. 3. The Political Philosophy Dürer published three books: Underweysung der Messung mit dem Zirckel und Richtscheyt (Instructions for Measuring with Compass and Ruler), first published in 1525;32 Etliche Unterricht, published in 1527;33 Vier Bücher von Menschlicher (Four Books on Human Proportion) posthumously published in October 1528.34 27 For examples, Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken, Aii, Bi, Biii, Ciii, and in the plan on page Cv all of the letters are missing from the plan. 28 Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung, G5r. 29 Münker, ‘The Art of Defying the Enemy: Albercht Dürer’s Concept of the Ars Fortificatoria’, 495. 30 Jane Campbell Hutchison, Albrecht Dürer: A Biography (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1990). 31 J. R. Hale, ‘The Early Development of the Bastion: An Italian Chronology c. 1450–c.1534’, in Europe in the Late Middle Ages, ed. J. R. Hale, J. R. L. Highfield and B. Smalley (London: Faber and Faber, 1965), 466. 32 Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung. 33 Albrecht Dürer, Etliche Unterricht, Zur Befestigung Der Städte, Schlösser Und Flecken. 34 Albrecht Dürer, De Symmetria Partium in Rectis Formis Humanorum Corporum (Nuremberg: 1532).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

He also worked on a book entitled Speiss für Malerknaben (Food for the Young Painter). However, only the manuscript of the introduction survives. In this manuscript Dürer argued that although instruction and practice could perfect art, ‘powerful artists’ were born with an ability that could not be learned. He believed that this ability was ‘inspiration from above’.35 For those that had not been born with this innate divine inspiration Dürer attempted to perfect their skills through instruction. His books are all instruction manuals; they were originally written in German and later editions after Dürer’s death were translated and published in Latin. Dürer believed that better education of the artist would improve not only the skill of their work, but their status in society. Dürer visited Venice in 1505, where he pursued all knowledge of painting, including the art of perspective that appeared to have eluded him in Germany. In the early sixteenth century Venice was a thriving cosmopolitan centre that was greatly admired for the creative energy of its artisans and the goods they shipped all over the world. The most renowned artisans were the ‘figurers’ (easel painters). In Venice, the painters’ guild was exceptionally large, since it included producers of masks, furniture, playing cards, dyers, glass, pots, leather and textiles as well as painters.36 The guilds were controlled by the state through special courts and did not have the political power and position that the guilds held in Florence. However, they were protected and supported by popular consensus and were important to the governance of the Republic. Their role in the economy was vital to the Republic, and they were held in the highest esteem. The Venetian guilds were given the right of self-administration37 and the Venetian government recognised their inventions by law, protecting the material and intellectual rights of the inventor.38 Although they did not have direct political power, they were empowered in various other ways. In 1506, at the end of his stay in Venice, Dürer wrote to his friend Pirckheimer of his planned return journey home to Nuremberg. At the end of the letter he stated, ‘Here [in Venice] I am a gentleman, at home a parasite’.39 This insightful comment highlights the differences in the artist’s status between Venice and Nuremberg. While artisans were revered in Venice, in Nuremberg the rigid social hierarchy held artisans in less esteem. In Nuremberg the artisans only had limited influence in the city’s governance and in regulating their own affairs. Although the guild structure was widespread throughout Germany, in Nuremberg there were no guilds.40 They had been banned in 1349 after an uprising, and although the Nuremberg masters had repeatedly attempted to reinstate the guilds, the Council always turned them down. The artisans were organised into two groups: ‘sworn crafts’, and ‘free arts’.41 These two divisions were made on an economic rationale. The ‘sworn crafts’ were of economic significance to the city of Nuremberg, and the Council decided to keep tight restrictions on this group, while the ‘free arts’ had no economic significance to the city and the Council had very little interest in their activity. The heads of these ‘sworn crafts’ were appointed by the Council and were known as ‘sworn masters’. The regulations of the economic activities the individual artisans of the sworn crafts were entirely in the hands of the Council. The principal body that controlled the sworn crafts was the Rugsamt, which was the city court that was in charge of all the industrial and commercial matters of the city. It consisted of four of the five judges that were members of the Lesser Council. The Rugsamt checked the quality and weights of products, 35 Joseph Leo Koerner, The Moment of Self Portraiture in German Renaissance Art (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 45. 36 Barbara H. Berrie and Louisa C. Matthew, ‘Venetian “Colore” Artists at the Intersection of Technology and History’, in Bellini, Giorgione, Titian, and the Renaissance of Venetian Painting, ed. David Alan Brown and Barbara H. Berrie (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 2006), 302. 37 Gerhard Rosch, ‘The Serrata of the Great Council and Venetian Society, 1286–1323’, in Venice Reconsidered: The History and Civilisation of an Italian City-State, ed. John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano (Baltimore, Maryland: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 69. 38 Francesca Trivellato, ‘Guilds, Technology and Economic Change in Early Modern Venice’, in Guilds, Innovation, and the European Economy, 1400–1800, ed. S. R. Epstein and Maarten Prak (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 222. 39 Dürer, Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, 27. 40 Strauss, Nuremberg in the Sixteenth Century, 97; Smith, Nuremberg: Renaissance Cty, 1500–1618, 46. 41 Rainer Brandi, ‘Art or Craft?: Art and the Artist in Mediaeval Nuremberg’, in Gothic and Renaissance Art in Nuremberg, 1300–1550, ed. Philippe de Montebello (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1986), 52.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

it controlled wages and prices and regulated contracts with craftsmen in other cities, and devised a myriad of social and moral regulations. If these regulations were not complied with there were harsh penalties for any master that did not obey. In short, all the regulation and economic activities of the individual craftsmen were controlled entirely by the Council.42 The ‘free arts’ were not answerable directly to the Council. They were not restricted by regulations, including those controlling education and working conditions, nor did they have a sworn master who was responsible for them. Among these free arts were the sculptors and painters. While they were free from regulation by the Council they were still forbidden to form a guild. This meant they were wholly reliant upon their own skills, so there was a need to perfect their skills. While in other parts of Germany the guilds first concern was to regulate the crafts to protect guild members, in Nuremberg the Council controlled the crafts for the economic benefit of the city and to benefit the patrician families.43 Dürer wanted to foster German artists and to improve their status in German society. In the preface of Underweysung der Messung he claimed, ‘It has until now been the custom in our Germany to put a great number of talented young men to the task of artistic painting without real foundation other than what they learned by daily usage. They have therefore grown up in ignorance like an unpruned tree. Although some of them have achieved a skilful hand through continuous practice, their works are made intuitively and solely to their tastes’.44 According to Dürer, geometry is the foundation of painting. ‘I have decided to provide to all those who are eager to become artists a starting point and a source for learning about measurement with rulers and compass’.45 Underweysung der Messung was the first text on Euclidean geometry and the art of perspective that was written in a vernacular language, while in Vier Bücher von Menschlicher he developed different techniques of depicting the human form and how to alter those proportions; for example, making the figures thinner or fatter. His use of vernacular German made these instruction manuals more accessible to German artisans. These studies may have begun well before his arrived in Venice in 1505. Proportional studies of figures of Dürer’s have been dated as early as 1500.46 Thus, these two significant books were the result of 20–25 years research before they were published in 1525 and 1528, respectively. Presumably his unfinished work, Speiss für Malerknaben, which is dated 1512,47 was a first draft of these two works. Dürer’s use of vernacular German in his instruction manuals is significant. Dürer bought copies of Euclid and Vitruvius, written in Latin, on his first trip to Venice. His Latin was poor, and like many artisans he had had a rudimentary education. However, he was able to get help from his friends in the Humanist circle in which he moved. Both Pirckheimer and Kratzer wrote out passages in German translation for him.48 He used the writings of both Vitruvius and Euclid in his search for aesthetic perfection in art and architecture. While Dürer developed his own system for the artistic construction of the human proportions and a measure of aesthetics, he agreed with the Vitruvian proportions as a measure of architectural aesthetics. He claimed that: I believe that it is no secret to any famous architect or workman how skillfully and masterfully the ancient Roman Vitruvius has written about the durability, usefulness, and ornamentation of buildings. For these reasons his teachings should be followed in preference to those of others.49

However, he does qualify this statement by claiming that German taste should be taken into consideration. In his notes he discussed a new church built in Nuremberg, and in his discussion he favoured a Classical roof with a slope of no more than 20 degrees50 as against the steep Gothic roofs that were popular in Germany. He 42 Strauss, Nuremberg in the Sixteenth Century, 97. 43 Brandi, ‘Art or Craft?: Art and the Artist in Mediaeval Nuremberg’, 53. 44 Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung, A1v. 45 Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung, A1v. 46 Missing footnote. 47 British Library Ms 5230; dating from Hutchison, ‘Albrecht Dürer: A Biography’, 111. 48 Brion, Albrecht Dürer: His Life and Work. 191 & 205; Erwin Panofsky, Albrecht Dürer (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1943), 257. 49 Dürer, Underweysung Der Messung, G4r. 50 British Library Ms 5229, 165–168.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

thus appears to be rejecting what would be considered German taste but his rationale for the lower pitched roof was for structural reasons. He was attempting to develop a true German style that incorporated the best elements of the Renaissance that would appeal to German taste. These first two manuals were to assist to develop this style and to instruct German artisans in rational artistic practices. Although Dürer is best known for his painting and printmaking, he was also interested in architecture. Dürer practised as an architect and he continued to build his skills and knowledge of architectural theory. Dürer commented on architecture in his notes and in his designed buildings. There is a surviving architectural plan that has been dated as early as 1505 that consists of elevations and floor plans for each floor of a five-storey building.51 In manuscripts held at the British Library there are his copies of his translations of Vitruvius, with many pages of drawings of the architectural details of Vitruvius’s text.52 On his travels from Antwerp to Aachen in 1520 he noted in his diary that pillars that he believed were bought to Aachen from Rome by Charlemagne were well-proportioned and that ‘these are made truly according to Vitruvius writing’.53 In Underweysung Der Messung he showed several designs and specifications for columns. His advice was sought on strengthening the fortifications of cities such as Antwerp. William Bell Scots’ biography of Dürer, published in 1869, claimed that there had been additions to buildings in Nuremberg that Dürer had designed that still existed in the mid-ninteenth century.54 In his journal in Antwerp in 1521 he recorded that he executed a plan of the house for the physician of Lady Marguerite, King Charles’ sister, for which he charged ten florins.55 The illustrations in Etliche Unterricht are skilled architectural plans, sections and elevations that demonstrate a full understanding of architectural theory. In a Latin edition of his work on fortification published by Wechel in Paris in 1535, Christian Wechel styled Dürer as ‘Painter and Architect’.56 He revered Vitruvius and the Renaissance style, but his designs still demonstrated a strong Gothic influence. There is no doubt that he worked in some capacity as an architect for a significant number of years. Although the publication of Etliche Unterricht may have been rushed, the layout of the city was carefully considered and planned. The zone system that he planned in his fortified city benefited the artisans’ living and working conditions. The trades in his city were carefully organised to enhance their effectiveness in relationship to each other. Both Alberti’s and di Giorgio’s works on architecture had been published, and Dürer had access to some extensive libraries, together with assistance in the translation of these works from Latin.57 Filarete’s work remained in manuscript but did have some influence and it is possible he could have seen a copy in Venice, although it is impossible to ascertain whether he was familiar with any of these works. However, the zones in his fortified city were different to these authors. Alberti’s concept of zones was only outlined, with no details given. He emphasised convenience for the citizens, who were separated by rank and occupation, the placement of the respectable shops in the marketplace and the offensive shops on the outskirts of the town. Filarete’s zones were more defined, but also lacked detail. Di Giorgio organised the trades to the convenience of the citizens rather than empowering the trades. Dürer’s city was for the artisan and the grouping of the trades that enhance each other created ideal conditions for the artisan. Apart from some military presence, administrative buildings around the markets and a few houses for nobleman, no other citizens are considered in Dürer’s zones. It is likely that Dürer was influenced by the neighbourhood and precinct system that he observed in Venice, rather than any architectural theorist. Venice’s unique development and position in the lagoon meant there was continual change in its layout. It was originally divided into six neighbourhoods. Each neighbourhood had its own church and school and housed one of the six guilds of the city. Nowhere else was a system of functioning zoning so clearly expressed. This system was established as a result of the disposition of the greater and lesser islands 51 British Library Ms 5229, 169. 52 British Library Ms 5229. 53 Dürer, Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, 56. 54 William Bell Scott and Albrecht Dürer, Albert Dürer (London: Longsman, Green, and Co, 1869), 320. 55 Dürer, Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, 91. 56 Christian Wechel, Pictoribus, fabris ærariis ac lignariis … quatuor his suarum institutionum geometricarum libris … (Paris, 1535), frontpiece. 57 Jane Campbell Hutchison, Albrecht Durer: A Guide to Research (New York and London: Garland Publishing Inc, 1999), 1–2.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

around the central city. The 177 canals and the lagoon both served as a transport system and created natural boundaries for the precincts. According to the precinct’s situation and size, each of the islands found its appropriate function, such as the glass-makers of Murano, the ship-building and munitions works quarter of Arsenal, the cemetery Isle of Torcello and so on. Venice invented a new type of city based on differentiation and zoning of urban functions that were separated by the traffic ways and open spaces of the canals, which was highly effective for political containment and industrial zones.58 In Venice, Dürer would have also been aware of social housing enterprises, such as Casa della Marinarezza, which consisted of three blocks of three-story dwellings constructed in a row built around 1335 by the foundation of the Procuratoria de Cita. These flats were given to the old and disabled sailors who had distinguished themselves in service to the Republic.59 Sixteenth century German domestic housing was at least two floors high. Usually there would be more floors, particularly in places such as Nuremberg, which was a walled city of 40,000 people, where space was scarce.60 The domestic residents would be on the upper floors. The ground floor was a single large room that was a typical feature of the domestic architecture in Nuremberg and was always used for commercial purposes: for either the storage room for business transactions in a trading house, or as a craftsman’s workshop with doors that would allow wagons to drive in and load irrespective of weather conditions. In Dürer’s house, which survives as the Nuremberg Municipal Museum, to the left of the very wide entrance is a small half-timbered chamber that is thought to have been the office to his ground floor workshop.61 The artisan’s trade was dependent upon his housing. The word ‘hausarmen’ literally meaning house-poor, was first used in the thirteenth century and by the sixteenth century it defined an artisan who had become impoverished and was unable to practice his craft since he had no house, or more generally, the house was insufficient to practice his craft in.62 Thus the artisan’s house and his livelihood were inextricably linked. The shortage of housing and the plight of the artisan without a house was not only a concern of Dürer’s. An ideal social settlement, built within the city of Augsburg,63 was built by Jacob Fugger, nicknamed ‘the rich’, a wealthy banking merchant and patron of the arts, including Dürer. Fugger had established a benevolent fund of 15,000 guldens for feeding the poor in 1511; this was distributed to the poor by three churches in Augsburg. In 1518 he founded a charity to help poor labourers and craftsmen by building an enclosed housing settlement. In his last will that was dated 1521,64 it established a benevolent fund that combined these two funds into a foundation that built and continued to maintained this settlement. Originally the land was just outside town, and it was a walled settlement with seven gates that were shut in the evening. It consisted of six streets and 53 houses, each house containing two flats. It also had its own church, with large gardens and open spaces.65 The settlement became known as the Fuggerei. It was built for the labourers and craftsmen of Augsburg. The requirements for admission were as follows: citizenship, being of the Catholic faith, married, respectable, poor and that the inhabitant would pray for the Fuggers daily.66 The housing estate and its walls still exist, and it is now a famous tourist destination in Augsburg. The original houses were similar in architecture, which emphasised the egalitarian nature of the settlement. They 58 Lewis Mumford, The City in History (San Diego, New York, and London: Harvest, 1989), 321–324. 59 James S. Ackerman and Myra Nan Rosenfeld, ‘Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture’, in Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture, Different Dwellings from the Meanest Hovel to the Most Ornate Palace (New York: The Architectural History Foundation/The MIT Press, 1978), 44; ‘Social Stratification in Renaissance Urban Planning’, in Urban Life in the Renaissance, ed. Susan Zimmerman and Ronald F. E. Weissman (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1989), 33. 60 Smith, Nuremberg: A Renaissance City, 1500–1618, 3. 61 Matthias Mende, Nürnberg, Albrecht-Dürer-Haus (München: Schnell and Steiner, 1989), 20. 62 Marion Tietz-Strodel, Die Fuggerei in Augsburg: Studien Zur Entwicklung Des Sozialen Stiftungsbaus Im 15. Und 16. Jahrhundert (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck] Tübingen, 1982), 39. 63 Jacob Strieder, Jacob Fugger the Rich (Hamden, Connecticut: Archon Books, 1966), 174–176. 64 B. Ann Tlusty, Augsburg During the Reformation Era (Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company, 2012), 80. 65 Tietz-Strodel, Die Fuggerei in Augsburg: Studien Zur Entwicklung Des Sozialen Stiftungsbaus Im 15. Und 16. Jahrhundert. 66 Ludwig Waagen, ‘Golden Augsburg and Its Fuggerei’, American–German Review 2 (1936).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

had classic Gothic roofs and were light and airy, with a good water supply and drainage.67 These were ideal living conditions, within the safety of the enclosed walls. The rent for these houses was minimal, with the annual rent beings one Rhein Guilder (about $1.25) and this would not have paid for the upkeep of the buildings, even in the sixteenth century. Although Fuggerei has become a tourist attraction in Augsburg, it is still inhabited by pensioners and is still maintained by the charitable fund set up by Fugger in 1521. The rents have remained unchanged since the sixteenth century.68 Dürer had a close relationship with Augsburg and the Fugger family. He had been a friend and was patronised by the Fugger family for many years. Gastel Fugger was a friend of both Dürer and Pirckheimer, and travelled between Nuremberg and Venice in 1506.69 While in Venice, Dürer was commissioned to paint a new altar piece for the chapel of the German merchants, and one of the principal donors was the Fugger family.70 In 1510, he came to Augsburg to design the Fugger’s burial chapel while also executing drawings of Jacob’s older brother, Ulrich. Dürer painted Jacob Fugger’s portrait, producing the life drawing when they met at the Imperial Diet in Augsburg in 1518.71 Dürer was present when the Fugger family were planning the foundation of Fuggerei.72 At the same time, the Fuggers benefited from the sale of Dürer’s artwork. They had a network of trading posts throughout Europe that handled the sale of the engravings by the Nuremberg artist. It is said that Dürer gave advice to the Fuggers during the construction of Fuggerei.73 He was a regular visitor to Augsburg at the time of Fuggerei’s construction, and he would have been aware of the plans and construction of this settlement. Notably, the buildings in Fuggerei have Renaissance details, such as the arched entrance, but the architecture has a distinct German flavour. However, there is no evidence of any direct involvement by Dürer in the design of Fuggerei. Etliche Unterricht is a relatively ignored work of Dürer’s. However, his city and its designed zones of artisans were carefully considered and demonstrated his skill as an urban planner. Although it appears to have been written in haste, he articulated a plan of a functioning and mostly industrial city that would indeed have been an artisan’s Utopia. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction of Dürer’s City Dürer does not mention di Giorgio, Filarete or Alberti. The zones or groupings are very rigidly laid out in Dürer’s city. Di Giorgio, Filarete and Alberti did not plan their zones with such detail. How aware Dürer was of these three authors is difficult to verify, since all three were written in Latin and in his surviving notebooks there are no translations or notes on them. However, in Underweysung der Messung Dürer does produce solutions for doubling a cube that are similar to Alberti’s system. In De Symmetria, instead of using fractions for types of human proportions, he used units of measurement that are also similar to Alberti’s system.74 Dürer may have become aware of many of Alberti’s ideas that had circulated through handwritten copies among his Humanist friends.75

67 Tietz-Strodel, Die Fuggerei in Augsburg: Studien Zur Entwicklung Des Sozialen Stiftungsbaus Im 15. Und 16. Jahrhundert. 68 Mike Esterl, ‘In This Picturesque Village, The Rent Hasn’t Been Raised Since 1520’, The Wall Street Journal Friday, 26 December (2008). 69 Mark Haberlein, The Fuggers of Augsburg: Pursuing Wealth and Honour in Renaissance Germany (Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press, 2012), 128. In a letter dated 7 February 1506 Dürer, writing to Pirckheimer, stated, ‘I also specially charged Castel (Fugger) to convey my service to you’, Gastel’s name is repeatedly misspelt in reproductions of Dürer’s letters (Dürer, Memoirs of Journeys to Venice and the Low Countries, 5). 70 William Conway, Literary Remains of Albrecht Dürer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1899), 45. 71 Hutchison, ‘Albrecht Dürer: A Biography’, 84. 72 Ackerman and Rosenfeld, ‘Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture’, 47. 73 Martin Kluger, The Fugger Dynasty: The German Medici in and around Augsberg (Augsberg: Verlag, 2008), 15. 74 David Price, ‘Dürer’s De Symmetria and Underweysung Der Messung’, in Albrecht Dürer, ed. David Price (Palo Alto, California: Octavo, 2003), 5–6. 75 Hans Rupprich, ‘Die kunsttheoretishen Schriften L. B. Albertis und ihre Nachwirkungen bei Albecht Dürer’, Schweizer Beitrage zur allgemeinen Geschiche 18–19 (1960), 219–239.

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

3.4 Fra Giocondo’s interpretation of Vitruvius’s ideal city of the winds Source: Drawn by Author from Fra Giocondo 1511.

The geometrical and rational scheme of Dürer’s city plan was possibly influenced by Thomas More’s Utopia. All of the buildings are in rows and groups as described in Utopia’s main city Amaurot. However, there are also major differences between Amaurot and Dürer’s city. At the centre of Amaurot are gardens, not the large palace of the ruler that dominated Dürer’s city. Dürer’s reference to Vitruvius is extremely vague, and it is unclear whether Dürer meant that he was using Vitruvian architectural principles in general or his concepts of an ideal city. In Book 1, Chapter 6, Vitruvius described a city that was oriented to the direction of the streets with regard to the winds. Vitruvius defined two geometric schemata in his chapter on the ideal city. The description of his ideal city is open to interpretation. There have been many different structures proposed and it is commonly shown as an octagon, but with variety of different internal street structures. Fra Giocondo’s M. Vitruvius per Jocundum solito castigatior factus cum figuris et tabula ut jam legi et intelligi possit was published in Venice in 1511. He supplied two drawings for the different schemata (see Figure 3.4). In the first schema he clearly placed the city on a 16-square grid. The Vitruvian schemata were undergoing a transformation around 1500, perhaps to conform with the street grid of Italian cities such as Naples, built by the Romans to a grid pattern. However, the similarity of Dürer’s 16-grid city to the representation of Vitruvius’s ideal city in the work of Fra Giocondo is striking. Dürer constantly collected the latest publications, particularly on Vitruvius, and any treatises on perspective or geometry throughout his life, and given the limited works on Vitruvius, he would have been familiar with this work. Although his admiration for Vitruvius was clear from his writings he does maintain a German style which, although he was influenced by Renaissance architecture, remained Gothic in its overall character. The reconstruction of Dürer’s city in this volume is based on his plans in Etliche Unterricht, and his architectural

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

3.5 Elevations of Dürer’s fortified city: a) Storehouse and workshops; b) workshops with domestic quarters upstairs; c) workshops and domestic quarters that surrounds the Royal Ditch; d) buildings reserved for the King’s visitors; e) Homes for nobles Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Dürer 1527.

sketches in his unpublished manuscripts.76 Dürer did not describe the palace and there is no floor plan; he only stated that it was constructed to Vitruvian principles. In the reconstruction a palace has been created that was typical of architecture of the time and region,77 to make sense of the city that surrounded it. In the reconstruction it is noticeable how large the buildings are and the streets would have been wider than a typical street in Nuremberg of his time. Also notable is the number of wells that he provided in every street, which probably functioned as a meeting place as well as being of utilitarian use (see Plate 6). 5. Conclusion Filarete’s and Alberti’s principle of decorum was built upon by the Italian architect Sebastiano Serlio in 1537. He specified that the Tuscan order was suited to the fortifications, city gates, castles, treasuries and places where ammunition and artillery were kept. The Doric order was suited to men of arms and was robust in 76 British Library Ms 3228, 3229 & 3230. 77 Henry-Russell Hitchcock, German Renaissance Architecture (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1981).

Albrecht Dürer—Fortified Utopia

character, while Corinthian was for monasteries and convents.78 In his book on domestic architecture he divided his house types, not only by dimensions and design, but also by their placement within the city, with the lowest level of society being outside of the walls in the suburbs and the wealthiest in the centre of the city. In his designs for artisans’ houses he gave three classes of house design: for the poor, the middle class and the rich artisans. For the poor and middle class artisan the designs were constructed in rows similar to the Casa della Marinarezza, which Serlio, having worked in Venice, was familiar with.79 However, he does not describe a city using these classifications and their zones in his book on domestic architecture. Serlio reconstructed a Roman military city from Polybius’ Histories. Like Dürer’s fortified city, in his reconstruction each building is designated and positioned in a zone. These zones are military, rather than for the artisan, but there is a strong similarity between Dürer’s zones of the artisans and Serlio’s zones of the military.80 Although Serlio’s reconstruction is the most comprehensive work on zones from the Renaissance, it remained unpublished and made little impact on city planning. Apart from Venice’s natural zones, and small settlements like Fuggerei and Casa della Marinarezza, distinct urban quarters appear to have been rejected by most urban planners of the Renaissance, despite the strong appeal to architectural theorists. Dürer was a successful entrepreneur and his print business was highly lucrative,81 with his work being in constant demand. Even though he stated that he was considered a parasite in his native Nuremberg he did not need to work in Nuremberg. He was offered 200 ducats per year by the Doge of Venice to enter the service of the Republic if he lived and worked in the Venice.82 The council of Antwerp in 1520 also offered him 300 florins a year and a fair mansion if he remained in Antwerp.83 However, he always returned to Nuremberg and continued his work, not only in painting and printmaking, but also producing a body of work that would educate and better prepare the young German artisans in all of the skills he considered necessary for an artist. His three books were published in the last few years of his life. Underweysung der Messung and Vier Bücher von Menschlicher have been thoroughly examined and scrutinised over the last 500 years. However, Etliche Unterricht has been relatively neglected. There is no doubt that it is an incomplete study and this may be because of the military imperative of the Peasants’ Revolt and the fear that its recurrence would have hastened its publication. However, Dürer’s fortified city had a twofold advantage: to the ruler for the fortification and maintenance of the city and to the occupants to improve their lifestyle and conditions. The former could explain the haste of publication, given the Peasants Revolt and the unsettled times; however, the latter is in context with Dürer’s desire and long-term plans to improve the skills, lifestyle and status of the German artisans. In Dürer’s ideal city the King would allow only useful people to live in the city, and in his plan the majority of the occupants were artisans—people the King clearly valued; they were no longer considered parasites, but valued citizens of the city.

78 Vaughan Hart, ‘Decorum and the Five Orders of Architecture: Sebastiano Serlio’s Military City’, RES: Anthropoogy and Aesthetics 34 (1998), 75. 79 Ackerman and Rosenfeld, ‘Social Stratification in Renaissance Urban Planning’, 33. 80 ‘Sebastiano Serlio on Domestic Architecture’, 28. 81 Anonymous, ‘Portrait of the Artist as an Entrepreneur’, The Economist, 17 December (2011). 82 Scott and Dürer, Albert Dürer, 178; Conway, Literary Remains of Albrecht Dürer, 59. 83 Scott and Dürer, Albert Dürer, 178.

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Chapter 4

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

1. Background During the sixteenth century there was a great deal of religious tension that arose from the Protestant Reformation and the creation of new Protestant churches, instigated by clergyman such as Martin Luther and John Calvin. The Roman Catholic Church responded with the counter-reformation, which was headed by the new religious order of the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits. Through this century Europe became divided between Protestant and Roman Catholic. The various divisions of both main religions led to fierce conflict, and eventually war.1 Fortifications became an important aspect of city design. However, towards the end of the sixteenth century and the beginning of the seventeenth century the aspirations of an ideal city and a society free of conflict looked towards a more political and philosophical foundation. There was strong move towards a more Humanist approach to philosophy, where the rewards of heaven, the perfect celestial utopian city, did not have to wait until the afterlife to be enjoyed. Renaissance thought turned towards understanding the immediate environment as a part of the greater celestial plan. It has been described as a merging of medieval theology and the philosophy of the schools of antiquity.2 There was a desire to understand the connection between the celestial and terrestrial world, and there was also a belief that this knowledge had been known by the ancients but had been lost. According to Renaissance thinkers, such as Marsilo Ficino and Pico della Mirandola, Christian theologies had been foretold in what were perceived to be pre-Christian theologies that were propagated in texts such as Corpus Hermeticum, allegedly written by Hermes Trismegistus, an Egyptian priest who had lived long before Moses. In fact, the text was an Alexandrian text that has been dated to between 100 and 300 CE. Through a pseudoEgyptian framework, Corpus Hermeticum contains a mixture of popular Greek philosophy of the period, Platonism and Stoicism, that is combined with some Jewish and possibly some Persian influences.3 The text contains expressions such as the ‘Son of God’ and ‘the Father’. Therefore, Hermes Trismegistus was perceived to be an important Gentile prophet who foresaw the coming of Christianity.4 Astrology, music and allegory were important elements of Hermetic philosophy that evolved through the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Ficino regarded himself as a Platonist and his primary task was to establish that the main ideas and concepts of the Hermetic and Platonic philosophy agreed with Christianity. He maintained a belief in the fundamental unity of the Cosmos, which was composed of distinct and hierarchical realms descending from the body towards the soul and intellect.5 Ficino demonstrated that man could use willpower to manipulate the Cosmos by finding the most auspicious stellar conditions for his activity. The power of these auspicious stellar conditions could be manipulated by attraction. He used two significant ways to attract these influences: music and talismans. Ficino believed that it was possible to harness celestial power to enhance the earthly environment. The macrocosm, the heavens, had the music of the spheres and the microcosm, man, had the music of the voice and instruments. Ficino stated ‘as above so below’.6 Thus, anything that had the same numerical

1 G. W. Searle, The Counter Reformation (London: University of London Press, 1974). 2 Moshe Idel, ‘Hermeticism and Judaism’, in Hermeticism and the Renaissance, ed. Ingrid Merkel (London and Toronto Associated University Presses, 1988), 59. 3 Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (London and New York: Routledge, 2002), 3. 4 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 8. 5 Melissa Meriam Bullard, ‘The Inward Zodiac: Development in Ficino’s Thought on Astrology’, Renaissance Quarterly 43, no. 4 (1988), 688. 6 Angela Voss, ‘Marsilio Ficino, the Second Orpheus’, in Music as Medicine, ed. Peregrine Horden (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 159.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

proportions as the heavenly spheres would invoke the celestial spirits to create the auspicious conditions.7 He performed the hymns of Orpheus, which he believed were early counterparts for the pure music of the cosmic soul.8 In the fifteenth century music was also considered as much mathematics as it was sound. Music could be given a pattern or a model that imitated the power of the macrocosm.9 Another way of coercing the emanating powers of the heavens was through talismans. There was another Hermetic treatise on astral magic that contained a comprehensive theory of images, the Picatrix. The authorship of the Picatrix is anonymous, but Hermes Trismegistus is mentioned a great deal in the book.10 Ficino developed a theory of astral images, using Picatrix, which would attract the planets’ influence that asserted power over the earth. The images appeared to be part of a magical linking system that reflected the image of the ideas of divine intelligence and their dimmer reflection on earth. This astral magic caused the emanation of the divine spirit into the earthly body.11 He claimed that the celestial harmonies have power over the production of farmers and the medicines of the physicians, but they also ‘bestow wondrous virtues on the talismans which the astrologers make of metals and stones’.12 These talismans would mostly be used for the curing of illness, inducing long life, happiness and the strengthening of the body. In the fifteenth and most of the sixteenth century the Church was ambivalent about the powers of astral magic. Even Ficino’s adversaries believed that power emanated from the planets to man’s soul, but their concern was that the attempts to draw these powers could result in the attraction of the ‘wrong’ demons.13 Perhaps in an attempt to address these concerns Ficino claimed that: If you do not approve of talismans, which were however invented to benefit men’s health, but which I myself do not so much approve of as merely describe, then dismiss them, with my permission, even if you wish, on my advice.14

Nevertheless, and despite this statement, harmonies and talismans that drew down the emanations of the divine spirit into the body for both spiritual and medical purposes were crucial elements of Ficino’s philosophy, and they were built on by many others. The Hermetic philosophy that Ficino promulgated demonstrated a symmetry between neo-Platonic metaphysics and ‘practical magic’. On the one hand was the mathematical and poetic vision of the cosmos, and on the other the ‘science’ of magic, with its talismans and formulas and spiritual vision of the cosmos. However, Hermetic philosophy was not a single coherent philosophy in the Renaissance and there were variations, but it did become a new force that combined ancient knowledge with Christian thought. Pico, a contemporary of Ficino, wrote a treatise against astronomy, Adversus Astrologiam. According to Ficino, Pico was not attacking ‘good’ astronomy like his, but ‘bad’ astrology of the ‘plebeian’ astrologers, the same astrologers that he himself had criticised. Pico stated his own theory of astral influence in Book 3 of Adversus Astrologiam; it had great similarities to Ficino’s and, although Pico may have considered some of Ficino’s theories mistaken, he would not have considered it ‘bad’ astrology.15 Giordano Bruno took Hermetic philosophy to its most extreme. Bruno presented a different view of the cosmos and believed the new theory of Copernicus: that the earth circled around the sun. However, Bruno transformed this theory. He considered that Copernicus was a ‘mere mathematician’, not a philosopher. Thus, he could not be expected to understand the extent of the universe that, according to Bruno, ‘was infinite with 7 D. P. Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella (Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton Publishing, 2000), 14. 8 Voss, ‘Marsilio Ficino, the Second Orpheus’, 159. 9 Jacomien Prins, Echoes of an Invisible World: Marsilio Ficino and Francesco Patrizi Cosmic Order and Music Theory (Amsterdam: Haveka B. V. Alblasserdam, 2009). 10 William Kiesel, ed., Picatrix (Seattle: Ouroboros Press, 2002), xiii. 11 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 68–74. 12 Ficino, as quoted by Brian P. Copenhaver, ‘Scholastic Philosophy and Renaissance Magic in the De Vita of Marsilio Ficino’, Renaissance Quarterly 37, no. 4 (1984), 534. 13 Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 44. 14 Ficino, as quoted by Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 42. 15 Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 54–56.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

many inhabited worlds, each inhabited world with its own sun. All was in motion, including the suns of each world’.16 Bruno had taken Renaissance magic back to its pagan sources, without any attempt to Christianise it. He perceived that the ancient religion of the Egyptians was purer than the religion of his day and that the moral laws of the Egyptians would replace the chaos of his day. The Copernican sun would dispel the present darkness and there would be a return to the Egyptian light.17 The sun was given god-like status. The sun was essential for all interaction, all change and all healing in the world. It was the life force of all living things. In Bruno’s illustrations of the star images, they constantly turned around the sun that he had perfected in a visual mnemonic system.18 For Ficino, the sun was the most significant planet and Apollo, the god of music, was the sun. His talisman for the sun was ‘the form of a king sitting on a throne, with a crown on his head and feet the figure of the sun’.19 This was a highly magical symbol, but Bruno had turned the sun into a god. Bruno claimed that he was a prophet and that he had made the astral ascent through the spheres, but in his description of empowerment he left out the angels.20 Bruno was denounced and convicted for heresy in 1592, and he was burnt alive on the Campo de’ Fiori in Rome in February 1600.21 Repression of Bruno’s unorthodox philosophy by the Papacy is considered to be a part of the Papal counter-offensive that occurred at the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when a more systematic and intensified campaign was waged against the ideological opposition, such as the works of Bruno, by Clement VIII in his attempts to control heresy in Italy.22 One of the measures in this campaign was the Clementine Index of 1596, which not only banned various Jewish texts, but also many ‘scientific’ and philosophical books. A Calabrian Dominican priest, Tomasso Campanella, was one of the last of the line of Italian philosophers who followed this astrological magic tradition that descended from Ficino. From an early age he questioned the philosophies of Aristotle, whose philosophies were central to scholarship and which had begun to be influenced by Platonic philosophies. Campanella came into contact with, and was influenced by, the natural philosopher Bernardino Telesio,23 author of On the Nature of Things According to their Own Principles, first published in 1565, with modified successive editions in 1570 and 1586. Telesio believed that creation would be dominated by two opposite, but active, principles, cold and heat. This sensory perception of external physical activities oscillated between these two poles. Telesio did not envisage any role for angelic and demonic creatures, and only a marginal role for God himself. A human soul tended to be identified as the material spirit that inhabits the body. However, he added a second material and immortal soul that was infused by God. Campanella considered Ficino’s philosophy in the light of the work of Telesio.24 Enthused by these new philosophies, Campanella had left his convent and come to Naples, the most densely populated city in Italy, where he was arrested for heresy and imprisoned. In 1594, he was transferred to the Inquisition in Rome, but was released a year later.25 At the end of 1597 he consulted a geographer who strongly adhered to the Copernican astronomy, and an astrologer; perhaps this meeting confirmed Campanella’s belief that the signs of the heavens were announcing an imminent and far-reaching political and religious change. During Campanella’s lifetime southern Italy was dominated by Spain, and the Spanish secular authorities often worked with the Inquisition to control the Italian provinces. In 1599 he participated

16 Edward A. Gosselin, “‘Doctor” Bruno’s Solar Medicine’, Sixteenth Century Journal 15, no. 2 (1984), 217. 17 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 237. 18 Yates, The Art of Memory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 243–265. 19 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 56. 20 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 263. 21 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 384. 22 Kathleen M. Comerford, ‘Clement VIII’, in The Great Popes through History, ed. Frank J. Coppa (Westport, Connecticut and London: Greenwood Press, 2002), 369. 23 Regina Maria Carpentieri Monteiro, ‘The City of the Sun; A Machiavellian Utopia’, Moreana 49, no. 189–190 (2012), 43. 24 Armando Maggi, ‘Tommaso Campanella’s Philosophy and the Birth of Modern Science’, Modern Philology 107, no. 3 (2010), 478. 25 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 397.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

in a conspiracy in an attempt to overthrow the Spanish domination of Calabria by attempting to establish a communal republic in the Calabrian mountains. These events had been instigated by celestial phenomena, such as an eclipse that was forecast for the year 1600. In addition there had been extreme changes in the weather, with a mini-ice age affecting most of Europe. Italy experienced severe climactic instability at the end of the sixteenth century,26 with increased celestial activities in the form of auroras (northern lights).27 Also there were predictions of the ‘descent of the sun’—that the sun was coming nearer to the earth. Thus, the revolt was to found a communal republic that would establish a more ‘natural’ religion that was in line with God’s Divine laws.28 Campanella was arrested and imprisoned in the Spanish-occupied Naples; he remained in prison for 27 years. In this time of imprisonment Campanella was extremely productive, and he produced a phenomenal volume of philosophy, theology, and without a doubt his most famous work, the City of the Sun (Civitas Solis). Hermetic philosophy permeates the political philosophy of the City of the Sun, but for Campanella this city was a reality and an alternative community that would reform Christianity and society that he had planned to realise in Calabria. 2. The City of the Sun The City of the Sun was originally written in Italian in 1602, but was reworked in 1609 and 1613.29 It was first published in Frankfurt in Latin in 1623.30 It is a very small monograph and barely constitutes a thousandth of his literary output. It was written as a dialogue in the tradition of Thomas More’s Utopia. The influence is evident in the text as well as in its structure. The dialogue was described as a ‘poetical’ dialogue between the Grandmaster of the Knights Hospitallers and a Viennese sea captain. The City of the Sun was located in Taprobane, thought to be the ancient name for Sumatra or possibly for Sri Lanka.31 However, Campanella does not explain if this was an island or a continent, or if the captain was shipwrecked. He only claimed that the captain was compelled to go ashore at Taprobane and its location was described as a large plain under the equator.32 When the captain arrived he feared for his safety when a crowd of men and armed women escorted him to the City of the Sun. In the dialogue, the first question the Grandmaster asked the captain was to describe the plan of the city. The city was circular and two miles in diameter. The greater part of the city was built on a very high hill that rose from the plain (Plate 7). The city consisted of seven circuits that were named after the planets and was divided by four streets through four gates that were aligned to the four points of the compass. Two of the circuits were on the flat of the plain, whereas the others rose up with the hill. Each circuit was gated at the roads, and if the first circuit was stormed then it would be necessary to storm the second circuit. So to reach the centre of the city the enemy would need to storm it seven times. However, with the amount of earthworks, towers, guns and ditches it was unlikely that even the first circuit would be stormed. The captain was taken into the city through the northern gate, which was opened and shut through a heavy wrought iron grate that could be raised and lowered and locked easily by a marvellous mechanical device. The distance between the first circuit and the second circuit was 70 paces.33 From inside of the gate it was possible to see large residences; all joined to the wall of the second circuit. Each individual residence was the same as the others, making the entire circuit look like one large palace. ‘Arches run on a level with the middle height 26 Christian Pfisteri et al., ‘Documentary Evidence on Climate in Sixteenth Century Europe’, Climate Change 43 (1999), 84–94. 27 Ken Kurihara, Celestial Wonders in Reformation Germany (London: Pickering and Chatto, 2014), 19. 28 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 398. 29 John M. Hendley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1997), 304. 30 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 411. 31 Margaret Lock, ‘Utopias of Health, Eugenics, and Germline Engineering’, in New Horizons in Medical Anthropology, ed. Mark Nichter and Margaret Lock (London: Routledge, 2002), 243. 32 Tommaso Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, in Ideal Commonwealths, ed. Henry Morley (Port Washington, New York: Kennikat Press, 1968), 141. 33 A pace is 1.36 yards, and 1,000 paces make a mile.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

of the palaces, and are continued round the whole. There were galleries for promenading upon these arches that are supported from need by thick and well-shaped columns enclosing arcades like peristyles or cloisters of an abbey’.34 The residences had no entrance from below except on the concave side. The higher parts, however, were reached by flights of marble steps that led to the galleries for promenading. The distance from the second circuit to the third circuit was 67 paces, but each circuit into the centre was similar in architecture to the second circuit. A series of steps made it possible to ascend the steep hill. On top of the hill was a spacious plain, and in the middle of that rose a temple of magnificent proportions and wondrous art. The temple was built in the form of a circle and stood upon thick columns that were beautifully grouped. The temple had a diameter of 350 paces and was crowned by a massive dome. Inside the temple the emphasis was on decoration, and the layout was celestial in its theme. In the centre of the dome was a vault that contained a centralised spiracle, or hole, that was directly over the altar. The altar was surrounded by columns. On the altar were two large painted globes; one represented the celestial map and the other the terrestrial map. Inside of the vault of the dome were the representations of the stars, from the first to the sixth magnitude. There were seven golden lamps hanging from the vault of the dome, representing the seven planets. The pavement of the temple was bright with precious stones. Outside the temple there were galleries for walking, with beautiful pavements that were adorned with numerous large doors. On top of the temple were 49 cells, both large and small, where the priests and religious offices were located. With the fundamentals of the city described, Campanella then turned towards the system of government. The highest power in both secular and spiritual matters was called the Metaphysic, or more commonly, Hoh: he was effectively both king and high priest. There were three princes of equal power; Power, Wisdom and Love. Power took care of all issues related to war and peace. Love took care of all that pertains to food, clothing, education and breeding (eugenics). Wisdom was the ruler of the liberal arts, mechanics and all sciences with their magistrates and doctors, and of the disciplines of the schools. There were 13 disciplines: astrology, cosmology, arithmetic, geometry, history, poetry, logic, grammar, medicine, physics, politics and morality. They were all taught out of one book, which was also called Wisdom. ‘This they read to the people after the custom of the Pythagoreans’.35 The prince Wisdom was responsible for the images that were on the higher and lower walls throughout the city. The images on the walls of the City of the Sun and the education system that related to the images is a fascinating aspect of the City of the Sun. The bottom floor and the highest wall were decorated with pictures (Plate 8). The aim of these pictures was not decoration, but rather, they were an educational tool. Each wall of the circuits had a theme. On the interior of the first circuit the walls were decorated with mathematical proofs and theorems, such as the discoveries of Archimedes and Euclid, with an explanation beside each theorem. On the interior wall of the circuit were maps of the entire globe, defining the different countries of the earth. The inside wall of the second circuit was decorated with all the different types of precious and common stones and with minerals and metals, while on the outside wall were marked all the seas, rivers, lakes and streams on earth, as well as the wines, oils and different liquids. On the interior wall of the third circuit were the different families of trees and herbs, while on the external wall there were the different fish that were found in the rivers, lakes and seas. The interior of the fourth circuit depicted other different types of birds, and on the exterior wall were the different races of creeping animals, serpents, dragons, worms, insects, flies and beetles. The interior of the fifth circuit was decorated with the large animals, and the exterior wall also portrayed many immense animals. On the interior of the sixth circuit were the mechanical arts, as represented by their instruments, while on the exterior wall were the portraits of the inventors in science, the philosophers and the lawmakers, including Plato, Moses, Jupiter, Osiris, Mercury, Pythagoras and many others familiar to an early seventeenth century audience. All of the mechanical arts were practiced in the colonnade of the ground floor of the circuit, but the speculative arts were carried out in galleries of the upper floors. The most sacred knowledge was taught in the temple.36 Educational instruction was held not in this classroom or in a college, but by walks around the city. 34 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 142. 35 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 144. 36 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 155.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

The city and its walls were the book of knowledge, and the citizens of the City of the Sun became well versed in the sciences, mechanical arts, the physical sciences, astrology and mathematics. They were also skilled in languages, grammar and astrology. Their leaders must be philosophers, historians, politicians, physicists and theologians, and had an understanding of metaphysics. Those who studied the most arts but know how to practice them were considered extremely wise.37 There was no room for an inactive nobility, as this was linked to vice. It was not through book learning that a universal knowledge was achieved, for ‘he who is suited for only one science and has gathered his knowledge from books, is unlearned and unskilled’.38 Campanella praised manual labour to the highest degree of virtue. In the City of the Sun there were no servants. No labour was considered to be unworthy, and all citizens were involved in manual labour. Because of the equal distribution of labour it only fell to each person to work four hours a day. The remaining hours were spent in learning joyously, in debating, in reading, in reciting, in writing, in walking, in exercising the mind and body and with play. There was no private property in the City of the Sun. All was held in common and the dispensation was by the authority of the magistrates. Everything was provided, including the residences and all their necessities. Their understanding of the mechanical arts and their inventiveness led to ingenious and curious inventions, such as ‘fitted with sails which are borne along by the wind even when it is contrary, by the marvellous contrivance of wheels within wheels’.39 ‘They possess rafts and triremes, which go over the waters without rowers or the force of the wind, but by a marvellous contrivance,’40 as well as stirrups that have been arranged to make it possible to guide a horse by using only the rider’s feet and leaving their hands free.41 Eugenics was practised in the City of the Sun, and the Prince Love was in charge of the perfection of the race. He saw that men and women joined together to produce the best offspring according to astral predictions. The captain claimed that the inhabitants of the City of the Sun ‘laugh at us who exhibit a studious care for our breed of horses and dogs, but neglect the breeding of human beings’.42 The breeding of children was for the preservation and health of the species and not individual pleasure. ‘Therefore the breeding of children has reference to the commonwealth, and not to individuals, except in so far as they are constituents of the commonwealth.’43 Hoh was the ultimate ruler and should have a perfect understanding of metaphysics and theology, all of the arts and sciences, the likenesses and differences of all things, necessity, fate and the harmonies of the universe, Power, Wisdom and Love of all things of God and the stages of life and its symbols. He must have a knowledge of everything that related to the heavens, the earth and the sea and all of the ideas of God—or as much as mortal man can know of him. All things were held in common, and the race was managed for the good of the commonwealth, not the individual, and all obeyed the magistrates without question. Therefore, the breeding of children was the concern of the commonwealth and not the individual. This did not prevent a man and a woman from falling in love, but not necessarily breeding, as this was controlled by the state. Beauty in a woman was considered to be in a clear complexion, strong limbs and tallness and agility that were achieved through exercise and a healthy lifestyle. Such a woman would produce healthy children for the state. A woman who painted her face or used high-heeled boots to appear taller and attempted to be beautiful but not from strength was thought to be of a slothful tenderness: ‘thus they rule in their own temperaments and natures, and consequently those of their offspring.’44 After asking numerous questions on the lifestyle of the Solarians, the Grandmaster finally asked about their religion and their beliefs. They held great festivals when the sun entered the four cardinal points of the heavens. On these occasions they had learned, splendid and often comic performances. These celebrations took place with music of female voices and the noise of drums and trumpets, the poet singing praise to the 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44

Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 150. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 152. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 166. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 168. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 161. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 147. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 156. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 157.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

leaders and their victories. Their prayers were also oriented to the four horizontal corners of the earth: ‘in the morning to the rising sun, then to the setting sun, then to the south, and lastly to the north; and in the country and in the evening.’45 However, the sun and the stars were regarded as the representation and signs of God. They venerated the sun but worshipped only God. However, the sun and the stars were regarded as the representation and signs of God. They knew God under the image of the sun, which they considered to be the sign of God by means of light, heat, life, and the making of all good things. They had two fundamental principles of the physical things on earth: that the sun is the father, and the earth the mother; the air is an impure part of the heaven; all fire is derived from the sun. The sea is this well of the earth, and the fluid of the earth combusted, and diffused within its bowels, but is the bond of union between the era of the earth, as the blood is of the spirit and flesh of the animals. The world is the great and small, and we believe within it as worms live within us therefore we do not belong to the system of stars, son, and earth, but to God only.46

They were unfamiliar with the Christian law and traditions that had not been revealed to them, yet they had derived a ‘natural’ theology that was the centre of their natural philosophy, theology and political philosophy. 3. The Political Philosophy Campanella’s literary output during his long years of imprisonment was enormous, and this huge opus has yet to be coordinated and fully published. While he was imprisoned many of his works were kept by his disciples, copied and passed on to others. Many of the works were never published; even more have been lost and even as recently as the last decade works are being discovered.47 The range of his works covers metaphysics, theology, political philosophy, mathematics, astrological speculation and Biblical interpretation. The City of the Sun is a fictional narrative that interprets the implication of many of his theories. Although his theories evolved over time the main focus of the theories did not evolve. The City of the Sun highlights his interpretation of ‘natural’ theology, which is bound up with all of his theories and philosophies. The influences of Campanella’s philosophies are as complex as his writing, and as a young man he was clearly influenced by Bernardino Telesio.48 However, there are also many other influences, such as the Neoplatonists, Ficino, Pico della Mirandola and Bruno; the political philosopher Machiavelli, the natural philosophers Galileo, Copernicus; also ancient writers such as Galen, Pliny, Ptolemy, Aristarchus and Philolaus.49 Although he absorbed many of these influences he also disagreed with them on many elements. Above all he was influenced by the Bible, or at least his interpretation of it. His justification of his astral magic was as symbols or signifiers of Christ and Christianity. Campanella’s aim was not to destroy or condemn Christianity; it was in fact to reform Catholicism.50 He pursued a ‘natural’ reform of Catholicism that would be a worldwide religion and result in political unity. He believed that society would be greatly improved if it had a close relationship with nature, since the precepts that formed a strong, happy and moral community were found in nature. Astrology was essential to the understanding of nature and he claimed that no man ‘is so stupid as to be unaware that the generation, corruption, alterations, times of the year, changes of the air, sea and land, germination of animals and plants, are affected by the increase and decrease of the two luminaries 45 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 177. 46 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 179. 47 Maggi, ‘Tommaso Campanella’s Philosophy and the Birth of Modern Science’. 48 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 414; John M. Headley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1997), 15; Gemana Ernst, Tommaso Campanella: The Book and the Body of Nature (Dordrecht and New York: Springer, 2010), 4; Monteiro, ‘The City of the Sun; a Machiavellian Utopia’, 43. 49 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 394–432. Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 203–236. 50 Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 217.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

and the stars’.51 Humans, community, everything, was affected by the celestial powers and only by understanding and engaging with nature could there be any real reform. One of Campanella’s most significant political works is the Monarchia di Spagna, which is difficult to date, but it is believed that it was written before the City of the Sun52 since many of the ideas that are expressed in Monarchia di Spagna are presented in the utopian text. Monarchia di Spagna presents what appears to be paradoxical shifting of allegiances. The revolt of 1599 aimed to establish an independent utopian republic away from the tyranny of Spanish rule of Naples. Yet, only several years later, and confined in a Spanish prison, he demonstrated a pro-Spanish loyalty. In this book Campanella believed that the Spanish Empire had the power to convert all people of different religious persuasions to Catholicism, and that the Spanish King would then transfer authority to the Roman Pontiff as the supreme pastor. Thus the world would be at peace, there would be a universal empire and religion would motivate all political decisions in the same way that the soul animated the body.53 Campanella was adamantly opposed to Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince, as he believed that he was a teacher of evil and that Machiavelli perceived evil as a vital commodity of government since evil was useful to a ruler. In 1605, Campanella wrote The Philosophical Recognition of the Truth, Universal Religion against Anti-Christianism and Machiavellism. It first appeared in 1631 in Rome but was suppressed by the censors; in his justification to censors to have it published he argued that Machiavelli made religion a craft of the state and he urged princes to discard oaths, justice and veracity. Machiavelli legitimised and even prescribed that princes were entitled to be unjust, treacherous, liars and to kill anyone who threatened their position. This was purely for the purpose of self-aggrandisement and not in the community’s interest.54 However, Campanella also posited a critical role for religion in politics. He believed that it was not possible for a community to survive without religion and it was a social necessity as ‘the very soul of the political, religion exercises a natural magic in uniting members of the community’.55 Nevertheless, Campanella used religion as a political tool in a different way to Machiavelli, and in Monarchia di Spagna he did promote the use of violence, cunning, dissimulation and corruption to achieve the goals of gathering all humanity together under a universal empire. His political ruminations express Machiavelli’s assertion that ‘the ends justify the means’.56 However, he clearly perceived his ends were purer than Machiavelli’s, and therefore were justified. Campanella’s quest was to achieve universal dominance of an ecclesiastical state with Papal theocracy throughout the world to empower Catholicism; this was reinforced by the natural magic of religion. Hoh, high priest and King of the City of the Sun, formed a government of wise men in which religion and politics formed a single unit: a micro-model of his universal empire. The Solarians had not been taught Christianity, although they were aware of Christ and the apostles as wise teachers who were depicted upon the sixth wall of the city. They had derived a form of primitive Christianity that was a ‘natural’ religion, meaning that it could be derived through a natural magic that originated from the heavens. According to Campanella it needed nothing but the addition of the sacrament to be true Christianity.57 The religion of the City of the Sun was a means of maintaining the state rather than a personal belief. It was also a source of comfort and inspiration to the citizens. The citizens did not regard work as a burden, but as a pleasurable duty that served the state. In the City of the Sun the collective state dominated the individual. For Campanella, material reality only constituted one reality, and he believed in the building blocks of Hermetic magic and in the radical doctrine of the cosmic soul. His original heresy charges in 1594 were for his religious ‘naturalism’ in which the sun was a natural image of God. However, his natural magic was a combination of Telesio’s natural theories, Ficino and Pico della Mirandola’s exotic and astrological 51 Campanella, as quoted by Peter J. Forshaw, ‘Astrology, Ritual and Revolution in the Works of Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639)’, in The Uses of the Future in Early Europe, ed. Andrea Bray and Emily Butterworth (London: Routledge, 2010), 183. 52 Ernst, Tommaso Campanella: The Book and the Body of Nature. 53 Headley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World, 197–199. 54 Hendley, ‘On the Re-Arming of Heaven: The Machiavellianism of Tommaso Campanella’, The Journal of History of Ideas 49, no. 3 (1988), 390–391. Hendley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World, 70–17. 55 John M. Hendley, ‘On the Re-Arming of Heaven: The Machiavellianism of Tommaso Campanella’, 395. 56 Monteiro, ‘The City of the Sun; a Machiavellian Utopia’, 46 & 48. 57 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 176.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

doctrines and Bruno’s appropriation of Jewish and Cabalistic tradition.58 Campanella was released by the Spaniards after Pope Urban VIII personally interceded on his behalf in 1626, and he was moved to a prison in Rome. Campanella’s theological/political hopes began to centre on the Pope as they previously had on the King of Spain. Although he did not fully realise his freedom until 1629, he was able to practice his astral magic with Urban VIII, who was worried by eclipses that astrologers, generally his Spanish enemies, claimed predicted his death.59 There were rumours that the Pope and Campanella were frequently closeted together in a special room at the Castel Gandolfo and were engaged in natural magic to ward off the malign influences of the eclipses. It was reported that they first sealed the room and filled the air with the fragrance of herbs and aromatic substances. They decorated the room with silk cloth and branches. Two candles and five lamps were lit, representing the seven planets. Procedures were taken to expel the pernicious influences and music was played to symbolise the good planet and to dispel the bad influences. Campanella used stones, plants, colours and odours that belonged to the good planets to attract the good influences from above.60 Campanella believed that prayers should be said at astrologically favourable times, as prescribed in the Bible. In the Book of Wisdom prayers were said at sunset; in the Psalms David said to pray seven times a day. These were the seven canonical hours that astrologers believed belong to the planets, the days of the week and the seven ages of the world. He believed that the world was a harmonious and numerologically constructed universe, and that the days of the week and the ages of the world corresponded with, and were dominated by, the planets.61 In the City of the Sun prayers from the state were to be oriented to the four cardinal points of the world; in the morning to the rising sun, the setting sun and then to the south and lastly the north, and in the evenings it was the opposite order: first to the setting sun, then the rising sun, to the north and lastly the south.62 The astral influences had the potential to impact all below, and their influences could be captured by symbols of their power and influence. In the City of the Sun Campanella claimed that the Solarians ‘praised Ptolemy, admire Copernicus, but placed Aristarchus and Philolaus before him’.63 Philolaus (c. 470–c. 385 BCE) had a central fire that was not the sun; the sun was the fourth planet and the earth the second planet from the central fire, while Aristarchus of Samos (c. 310–c. 230 BCE) built on Philolaus and placed the fixed sun in the centre of the universe, but little else is known of his model. Ptolemy had a geocentric model with a complex set of orbits of 40 epicycles that was published in an astronomical work called the Almagest in the mid-second century, and was still referred to in the early seventeenth century. Although Campanella had defended Galileo in his work Apologia pro Galileo published in 1622, he appears to have accepted the new model of the Copernican system as a suitable mathematical model for the purpose of human knowledge, but he denied that it was a reality, preferring the ancient systems that were all different from each other. His defence of Galileo was supported by the Scriptures and not from any scientific basis. Campanella claimed that the hypothesis of Galileo ‘harmonises well with the most ancient and modern interpretations of Holy Writ, the Sacred Scripture is in accord with the explanation of celestial things provided by the new philosophy’.64 In Campanella’s own map of the universe, the ground plan of the City of the Sun, he stated that the circuits of the city were named after the planets but he does not specify which planets aligned with which circuit, leaving the order of the planets open to interpretation. The City of the Sun was very much a generic model of all of the four theories that he condoned. Campanella’s astral magic did not linger on the idea of rituals, but on the symbolism of Christ and Creation. He stressed the positive effects of symbols and ceremonies on the believer. He distinguished between the external (signified) and its substantial sign (signifier).65 The astrological signifiers that Campanella used were 58 Paola Spinozzi, ‘Utopia, the City of the Sun and New Atlantis as Manifestoes of Utopian Ideals in the European Renaissance’, Litteraria Pragensia 23, no. 4 (2013), 13; Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 394–432. 59 Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition, 409–410. 60 Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 207. 61 Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 218. 62 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 177. 63 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 177. 64 Campanella, ‘The Defence of Galileo’, in Smith College Studies in History (1937), 74. 65 Maggi, ‘Tommaso Campanella’s Philosophy and the Birth of Modern Science’, 486.

4.1â&#x20AC;&#x192; Villalpandoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Tabernacle of Moses with the tents of the tribes of Israel surrounding it Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

to attract the power of those celestial features. However, their power and presence served to confirm the supremacy of Christianity, and Catholicism in particular, since the fixed stars, wandering stars and luminaries (the sun and the moon) exerted power over everything below. The ground plan of the City of the Sun was a signifier of the universe and God’s plan: it was a microcosm of the macrocosm. Creating an architectural or urban plan as a symbol of the macrocosm was not unique at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Spanish architect and Jesuit priest Juan Bautista Villalpando also designed a symbol of the microcosm with a belief in its celestial and divine power in the form of a plan for Solomon’s Temple. However, unlike Campanella, who worked on the City of the Sun under horrific conditions, including torture, Villalpando’s plan was sanctioned and paid for by King Philip II of Spain, and its publication as In Ezechielem Explanations et Apparatus Vrbis Templi Hierosolymitani was licensed in Rome by the Pope in 1604.66 Villalpando’s project was a massive one; originally it was to be a full scriptural exegesis on the Book of Ezekiel. However, the end product was three substantial volumes: the first volume on the first 26 chapters of Book of Ezekiel, the second volume contains Villalpando’s reconstruction of the Temple and the third volume consists of explanatory notes for the first two volumes. The work took over 20 years to complete, and contains 48 copperplate engravings of extraordinarily high quality, with 20 of them folding out, some being over one and a half metres wide. Villalpando distinguished sacred architecture from profane architecture of Vitruvius. He claimed that ‘sacred architecture constitutes the origin of architecture, and the profane one is like a copy, or better still, as a shadow of sacred architecture’.67 The purpose of Vitruvius was to equip the architect with the norms of architecture; however, Villalpando’s purpose was to examine the origins of architecture and to extract the principles of architecture that were derived from God’s plan and propagated in the Sacred Scriptures: this natural order was followed by Vitruvius in his ten books on architecture. Villalpando’s reconstruction envisaged the Temple to be a building that encapsulated the entire formal grammar of Classical architecture, where all elements are placed according to the number, weight and measurement as determined by the celestial plan. Villalpando claimed that the Temple was built to harmonic proportions, and he implied a strong link between these harmonic proportions and the celestial bodies.68 For Villalpando the Temple reflected the creation of God and thus needed to incorporate itself into the universal harmony according to the movements of the planets and the fixed stars. He used the monochord to show the intervals of the musical scale according to the doctrine of Pythagoras, and demonstrated that these harmonic proportions were embedded in the architecture of the Temple. Villalpando examined the Tabernacle of Moses—since it prefigured the plan of the Temple—and the tribes of Israel that surrounded the Tabernacle, which was a primitive plan of the Temple precinct (see Figure 4.1). The distribution and placement of the tribes around the Tabernacle was determined by a perfect plan, and it represented the microcosm of the universe: the macrocosm. From the plan of the Tabernacle and the tribes of Israel he demonstrated the plan of the Temple as a microcosm of the universe (see Figure 4.2). He illustrated how the plan of the tribes of Israel correlated with the celestial bodies. The orbits are positioned on the plan as Ptolemy assigned them in Almagest; ‘Thus Saturn is situated between Capricorn and Aquarius; Jupiter in Pisces; Mars in Aries; Venus in Libra; mercury in Virgo; the Sun in Leo and the Moon in Cancer’.69 Surrounding the seven courts of celestial orbits were the 12 foundations or bastions of the Temple precinct perimeter (see the Temple plan in Figure 4.3). These foundations corresponded to the 12 tents of the tribes of Israel that were laid out under the banner or standards that declared their ancient lineage. In the centre was the Temple, ‘dedicated to the profit of man’, thus representing the ‘true Sun’ of the super celestial world of the Church. This true Sun was Christ, the ‘Sun of Justice’ whose light was salvation. This light illuminated the seven planets and the 12 constellations and the centralised earth was illuminated by the planet sun that was located in Leo. This perfect plan represents 66 Rene Taylor, ‘Hermetism and Mystical Architecture in the Society of Jesus’, in Baroque Art: The Jesuit Contribution, ed. Rudolf Wittkower and Irma B. Jaffe (New York: Fordham University Press, 1972), 73. 67 Juan Bautista Villalpando and Jerónimo del Prado, Ezechielem Explanationes Et Apparatus Urbis Hierolymitani Commentariis Et Imaginibus Illustratus (Roma, 1604), 411; all quotations from Villalpando have been translated by the author. 68 Villalpando, Ezechielem Explanationes, Chapter XVI. 69 Villalpando, Ezechielem Explanationes, 467.

4.2â&#x20AC;&#x192; Villalpandoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s plan of the camp of the Israelites surrounding the Tabernacle mapped to the celestial zodiac Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

4.3â&#x20AC;&#x192; Villalpandoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ground plan of the Temple of Solomon as derived from Figures 4.1 and 4.2 Source: Drawn by Author from Villalpando 1604.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

the three worlds of the microcosm and macrocosm; in the centre was the supercelestial world of God, this was surrounded by the world of man and then the celestial world of the seven planets and the fixed stars that encircle the earth—a perfect Hermetic vision of the geocentric universe. Campanella would not have been aware of Villalpando’s published work, since it was published in 1604 while Campanella was in prison and two years after City of the Sun. Nevertheless, the underlying philosophy behind Campanella’s City of the Sun and Villalpando’s reconstruction of the Temple had very strong similarities and stem from the same Hermetic tradition. Villalpando stated that he used Ptolemy’s celestial model but his text is confusing, particularly with the central light being the ‘true Sun’. In Isaac Newton’s commentary on Villalpando’s reconstruction he believed that Villalpando was representing the heliocentric universe.70 Despite this confusion, like Campanella, the symbol of the sun is closely aligned to Christ and his spiritual illumination was a central element of the celestial plan. Villalpando claimed that his reconstruction was the ‘architecture of theology’71 for the betterment of his fellow brethren. Through the plan and architecture of the Temple, a symbol of the macrocosm, his brethren would have a closer understanding of the mind of God. For Villalpando the act of contemplating or meditating the visualisation of the macrocosm through the microcosm of Solomon’s Temple was an attempt to reveal the divine truth. In short, the signifier, the plan of Solomon’s Temple and the celestial heavens contained the power and understanding of the signified, the macrocosm. In the City of the Sun, the temple was in the centre of the city and was at the highest point. The dome was decorated with the zodiac; seven lamps hung from the dome and there were terrestrial and celestial globes on the altar that replicated the talismans of the celestial powers. However, for all Campanella’s natural magic he remained within the Judaeo-Christian tradition. He believed that the Tabernacle was constructed to reflect the heavens; the atrium signified the sub-lunar world, the holy room represented the celestial world and the inner sanctum symbolised the angelic or mental world. It was the mise en scene (visual theme) to the ‘acts of religion’ and helped the mind return to the origins of the archetypal world.72 In the City of the Sun nothing was left to chance; everything was controlled by the priests in the temple who gazed at the stars and noted all the celestial movements. They would use the knowledge from the interpretation of these movements for the benefit of the community. They determined the changing seasonal suits of clothes, ceremonial calendar, the breeding of animals, education and the choice of profession. They would also specify the days for planting and harvesting. Partners were selected on the basis of their astrological temperament as well as physical looks, and they abstained from intercourse until the astrological signs were favourable. The priests were the mediators between God and man and their knowledge of God came from their celestial interpretations. The priests were required to have knowledge of mathematics and all the sciences, as both mathematics and particularly mechanics were viewed as powerful instruments for interpreting nature and encouraged the development of sciences. The City of the Sun was also intended to be the repository of all knowledge, both terrestrial and celestial. With the exception of the first and sixth wall the knowledge was depicted on the walls in the order of Creation as described in Genesis 1:9–31. The first wall was covered with human symbolic languages of alphabets and mathematics, perhaps suggesting that the way to knowledge must be initiated by the symbolic languages.73 Plato had claimed that understanding the heavens could only come from understanding the problems of geometry through reason and thought;74 these geometric problems and solutions were inscribed on the first wall of the city. On the interior of the sixth wall were painted all of the mechanical arts with their instruments. However, on the exterior wall were all the inventors in science, exponents of warfare and lawyers. Campanella listed Biblical, mythical and historic figures on this wall: 70 Tessa Morrison, ‘Villalpando’s Sacred Architecture in the Light of Isaac Newton’s Commentary’, Nexus VII: Architecture and Mathematics (2008). 71 Villalpando and Prado, Ezechielem Explanationes Et Apparatus Urbis Hierolymitani Commentariis Et Imaginibus Illustratus, Prologue, unpaginated. 72 Maggi, ‘Tommaso Campanella’s Philosophy and the Birth of Modern Science’, 491. 73 Timothy J. Reiss, ‘Structure and Mind in Two Seventeenth-Century Utopias: Campanella and Bacon’, Yale French Studies 49 (1973), 87. 74 Plato, Plato’s Republic, trans. G. M. A. Grube (Indianapolis, Indiana: Hackett Publishing Company, 1974), 181.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

Moses, Osiris, Jupiter, Mercury, Lycurgus, Pompilius, Pythagoras, Zamolxis, Solon, Charondas, Phoroneus, with very many others. They even have Mahomet, whom nevertheless they hate as a force and sordid legislator. In the most dignified position I saw a representation of Jesus Christ and of the 12 Apostles, whom they consider very worthy and hold be great. Of the representations of men are perceived Caesar, Alexander, Pyrrhus and Hannibal in the highest place; and others very renowned heroes in peace and war.75

The children learned all the sciences by direct observation of the walls, without toil and with pleasure and with explanations from the state magistrates. Although the city appeared to be harmonious and static, the Solarians continually sent out explorers and ambassadors all over the earth so that they could learn through the customs and knowledge of all nations.76 Campanella claimed that the present century had ‘produced more history in 100 years that the whole world deep in the previous 4,000!’77 He demonstrated the stupendous inventions that had begun to change travel, knowledge and war such as the compass, the printing press and the harquebus. The city had sophisticated water and sewerage systems; there was an abundance of water from collected rainwater from roof gutters. The gates were locked with ingenious mechanical devices. Campanella devoted considerable attention to inventions, discoveries and instruments that were not only depicted on the walls, but were used throughout the city. There were also vessels that moved without windows or oars. Throughout the City of the Sun there were references to tools and activities of discovery, such as maps, mapmaking, navigation and various instruments for measuring. The City of the Sun was not only harmonious: it was also technically knowledgeable and aware of the latest inventions of the late sixteenth century. To Campanella the City of the Sun represented a true and natural city that was administered through a religion that was derived from natural magic. He perceived this to be the needed reform to the Church and that establishing Cities of the Sun would bring about a unity of religion and politics and a universal order of a pure Catholicism. By 1630, Campanella had obtained Urban VIII’s permission to found a college at Rome, ‘Collegio Barberino’, that was for the training of missionaries in accordance to his principles who would convert the world to Campanella’s natural Catholicism.78 Campanella must have felt that the realisation of the City of the Sun was close at hand. Unfortunately for Campanella, the ‘Collegio Barberino’ and did not eventuate. He remained in Rome until 1634, when he had to take exile in France because of growing suspicion by the Spanish authorities. Campanella had made a private record of the rituals that he had shared with the Pope, and these were published without his consent by the pro-Spanish general of the Dominican order, Niccolo Ridolfi. Urban VIII was compromised and risked being accused of performing superstitious practices.79 He personally advised Campanella to leave. Campanella was well received in France through the support of King Louis XIII and Cardinal Richelieu, who was the King’s first minister.80 Campanella’s theological-political hopes that had settled the King of Spain, then the Pope, finally settled on the King of France. His belief in the City of the Sun never wavered. In 1637, Campanella published On the Sense of Things and of Magic; in the dedication to Cardinal Richelieu, Campanella appealed to him to build the City of the Sun.81 A month before his death, in a lengthy Latin Eclogue, Ecloga in portentosam Delphini nativitatem, to celebrate the birth of the Dauphin, the future Louis XIV, the Sun King, was called upon to now realise the City of the Sun; he hailed the Dauphin as being the French Cockerel who was destined to rule with a reformed Pope to unite the world under a universal empire. This was Campanella’s last work.82

75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 146. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 147. Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 161. Walker, Spiritual and Demonic Magic from Ficino to Campenella, 209. Forshaw, ‘Astrology, Ritual and Revolution in the Works of Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639)’, 190. Headley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World, 242. Forshaw, ‘Astrology, Ritual and Revolution in the Works of Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639)’, 190. Hendley, Tommaso Campanella and the Transformation of the World, 299.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction

Figure 4.4 is a plan of a quarter section of the City of the Sun, showing the positions of the outside wall, the domestic buildings, the colonnades and the gates. The roads are oriented to the points of the compass; however, the steep incline of the hill requires that there are steps to the temple. Figure 4.5, the section of the city, highlights the scale of the temple compared to the rest of the city. The dome of the temple was approximately 300 paces (124.4 metres or 408 feet) in diameter. Campanella would have been familiar with Brunelleschi’s dome in Florence, the Pantheon and Michelangelo’s dome in Rome. The diameter of Brunelleschi’s dome is 41.5 metres or 136 feet, while 4.4 Plan of a quarter section of the City of the Sun Michelangelo’s was 43 metres or 139 feet, Source: Drawn by Author from the description in Campanella 1968. and the Pantheon 43.5 metres or 141 feet. Campanella’s dome of 300 paces would have dwarfed these three domes. The dome of the City of the Sun was approximately 125 metres or 408 feet; almost triple the size of these significant domes of Roman and Renaissance architecture. The City of the Sun was a monumental city, well beyond the human scale. The temple shone with marble and semiprecious paving stones; an altar with the celestial and terrestrial globe was surrounded by columns, with the seven lamps representing the seven planets above the altar (Plate 9), highlighting the celestial nature of the city and strengthening its geometry. The City of the Sun had large open spaces: over 50 per cent of the city was roads and open space between the circuits. With the steep incline, the circuits were exposed to plenty of light and air. The colonnades of the circuits were the centre of activities in learning from the walls, discussions of the speculative arts and practising the utilitarian arts, and constituted the dominant architectural feature of the city.

4.5 Elevation of the City of the Sun Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Campanella 1968.

Tommaso Campanella—The City of the Sun

5. Conclusion Campanella’s philosophy can be divided into two aspects: on the one hand, his emphasis on astrology and natural magic, and on the other, a focus on theological and philosophical beliefs. His belief in natural magic was not unusual for the time, although he emphasised it and made it a pinnacle of his other philosophies, which sometimes distorted its value in his philosophy. However, Campanella perceived that the power to attract cosmic power through talismans or signifiers was a central feature to enhance his philosophies. Villalpando used the same style of talisman as a cosmic attraction in his architecture of Solomon’s Temple. He strongly stressed the harmonic proportions of the architecture, and the ground plan was based on this cosmic plan with the planets in their own zodiac. According to Campanella, when the planets are in their own constellations they emanate the most powerful influence.83 Both Villalpando’s plan for the Temple of Solomon and Campanella’s plan for the City of the Sun are intended to represent a microcosm of the macrocosm. Although there are different initial intentions for these microcosms—for Villalpando, to create an ‘Architecture of Theology’ for the understanding of God and the macrocosm, and for Campanella, an understanding of ‘natural religion’ that would lead to the reform of Catholicism— there is the same underlying Hermetic philosophy behind the creation of these ground plans. According to Ficino, architecture was an important art, as it affected how people lived and accomplished anything. Harmonic proportions in architecture would improve its talismanic power.84 As an adolescent, Ficino formed a correspondence with Alberti in the relationship of master and pupil; Ficino was influenced by Alberti’s philosophy of beauty as a harmonious, divine and universal principle. In the City of the Sun, the duty of the priests was to search the constellations to interpret how the community should live, but the actual plan of the City of the Sun mimicked the harmony, beauty and symmetry of the macrocosm itself, ensuring ideal conditions to attract the astral powers that would assist in the development of a natural religion in the community. Although the City of the Sun was written as a fictional narrative, Campanella did intend the city as a realisation of his philosophy of the universal empire where religion was essential to every political decision of that empire. The city was well fortified, with breastworks, towers, guns and ditches, as well as the defensive walls of each circuit. It was well served through its sanitation and facilities and it was extremely spacious in its buildings and open spaces. Even though it is clear that Campanella intended the design as a talisman to attract the astral powers, apart from the oversized temple in the centre, the urban plan was not an unrealistic plan in its liveability, spatial context and facilities. Although Campanella could be considered unorthodox, he remained strongly bound to the traditions of Catholicism, and in his 27 years of imprisonment this did not change. Despite Campanella’s belief in the astral powers and the use of talismans to attract these powers he believed in the Christian doctrine of free will. He asserted that no amount of physical torture could defeat the human spirit; the stars could not 83 Taylor, ‘Hermetism and Mystical Architecture in the Society of Jesus’, 93. 84 Prins, Echoes of an Invisible World: Marsilio Ficino and Francesco Patrizi Cosmic Order and Music Theory.

This area has been left blank intentionally. To view Figure 4.5 as a double-page spread, please refer to the printed version of this book

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

by any means impose themselves violently and impinge on free will.85 The celestial powers needed to be invoked through natural magic, but these powers would not act on their own volition. The City of the Sun was Campanella’s answer to the counter-reformation; he believed that the revival of Catholicism would be achieved through the understanding of ‘natural’ religion. However, his example of the Solarians did present the same paradox as More’s Utopia, that the perfect and devout society of the City of the Sun was non-Christian. However, orthodoxy is difficult to define within this period. Villalpando’s reconstruction has clear influences of Hermetic philosophy, yet his work and reconstruction were extremely influential and were supported and funded by the Spanish King Phillip II. His reconstruction expressed in significant detail a philosophy of beauty as a harmonious, divine and universal principle; all of the concepts that were expressed by Campanella in his City of the Sun. Campanella’s ideal city was not merely an expression of a formal ideal of this universal principle, but it was also a visual translation of the notions of the relationship between the macrocosm and a society with a pedagogical influence on its inhabitants. For Campanella, it was a politicalreligious solution to the violent conflicts of the time. Unlike Dürer’s fortified city for artisans, the City of the Sun has an agrarian and trade economy. The trades are separated and are housed in separate circuits, with the agricultural workers living on the outer circuits closer to their work.86 However, Campanella does not designate the division of the trades, but all of his society was involved in the education system. In More’s Utopia, he made no mention of science in the utopian’s educational programme, but in the City of the Sun, universal knowledge was built into the city itself; it was the encyclopaedia of all existing knowledge. Each of the circuits was dedicated to a particular study or research; the walls were both protector of the city and of universal knowledge. Campanella was the first to use scientific and technological discoveries to create a more perfect society. Although Campanella emphasised science, it is always clear throughout the City of the Sun that science, although important, played a subordinate role to religion and astral magic. Nevertheless, it was perceived as presenting an ideal towards practical progress in both spiritual and scientific education within society, and it attracted a wide audience.

85 Forshaw, ‘Astrology, Ritual and Revolution in the Works of Tommaso Campanella (1568–1639)’, 191. 86 Campanella, ‘Campanella’s City of the Sun’, 152–153.

Chapter 5

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

1. Background In the sixteenth century German lands were dominated by religious turmoil and violence. The Holy Roman Empire had become divided along religious lines: some of the Imperial cities, such as Strasbourg, Augsburg, Nuremberg and Frankfurt, and many of the free cities had become Protestant, while others remained Catholic. Continuous outbreaks of violence and acts of war were eventually ended through the Peace of Augsburg, a treaty negotiated in 1555. This peace was particularly important, given the threat from attack by the Turks on the western front of the Empire. This ensured compromises between the princes of the city-states and the Emperor. Their main priorities were to ensure religious peace and domestic security. The treaty resulted in a precarious peace for the next few decades.1 However, religion was the vehicle of conflict rather than the substance. There was instability in the governance of the Holy Roman Empire itself, with questions regarding the Emperor’s role and his authority in the mixed religious and culturally diverse Empire. There was also the question of calendar reform, which had become caught up in the wider religious controversy. In 1582, Pope Gregory XIII introduced what is now known as the Gregorian calendar. It was an attempt to align the calendar with Easter, which was tied to the spring equinox. The Gregorian calendar had to add 10 days to the calendar to restore 21 March as the date of the spring equinox.2 The Emperor Rudolf II was hesitant to adopt the calendar, but finally issued a decree to all German rulers to adopt the new calendar in 1583. However, the Protestant states refused to recognise the new calendar as it was perceived as ‘Popish’. There were also divisions within the cities that accepted it, and magistrates from those cities were put under intense pressure that escalated the threat of military action.3 All of these tensions were exacerbated by climactic conditions. The mini-ice age, which increased celestial activities and had affected Italy and stimulated Campanella’s writings was more intense in northern Europe. The celestial activities were called Wunderzeichen (wonder signs), and included the northern lights, comets and eclipses. There were also claims of ‘celestial visions’, such as images of Christ, angels and armies of soldiers. In the sixteenth and seventeenth century people in Lutheran Germany took a great deal of interest in these phenomena. They were seen as signs of the wrath of God and of the imminent coming of the last judgement. This stimulated the publication of illustrated broadsheets and pamphlets generally written by Lutheran preachers who preached an apocalypticism. For the Lutherans it was clear that the day of judgement was not far away.4 The broadsheets and pamphlets not only exploited a religious outcome, but also a political one. Woodcuts of reported celestial visions revealed an anti-Catholic political agenda with, for example, a vision of a weeping a Lutheran maiden being forcefully condemned by the Pope, bishops and other Catholic authorities. During the Reformation the clergy had lost the spiritual authority that the Catholic priests had, and they no longer had the ‘power of transubstantiation’.5 The celestial activities between 1546 and 1618 (the outbreak of the Thirty Years War) had shocked and frightened people and they had turned to the preachers and their warnings, at least temporarily. With the severe weather, crops failed. Poor harvests, high prices for grain, social instability, economic crisis and hostilities all added to the general tension of the times and reactions were as extreme. Demons and 1 Joachim Whaley, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire: Volume I: Maximilian I to the Peace of Westphalia 1493–1648 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 383ff. 2 Tessa Morrison, ‘Computus Digitorum for the Calculation of Easter’, Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association 1 (2005). 3 Whaley, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire: Volume I: Maximilian I to the Peace of Westphalia 1493–1648, 405. 4 Ken Kurihara, Celestial Wonders in Reformation Germany (London: Pickering and Chatto, 2014), 1–5. 5 Kurihara, Celestial Wonders in Reformation Germany, 160.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

witches were considered to be the instigators of all these problems. During the period 1490–1560 there were relatively few witchcraft trials, but from 1560 to 1618 the panic and persecution of witches spread.6 There had been confident and well-publicised predictions of the end of the world in 1588, 1600 and 1604, and these predictions continued to expand the fear and the belief in the impending apocalypse.7 There was a need for universal reform and a rebirth of society. The astral magic that had been promulgated by Ficino, Pico and Bruno, and the concept of natural Catholicism that was derived from natural magic that Campanella had promoted did not have the same appeal in Germany. This may have been because the celestial activity had been connected with fear and the apocalypse, rather than being beneficial to humanity. However, in the early seventeenth century the hoped-for reform in Germany was not perceived as a political one, but was thought to stem from a contemporary secret Christian society known as the Rosicrucian Order. This order built on Humanist ideals that were embodied in the ancient past and that had been hidden from man. It was hoped that the discovery of these esoteric truths would lead to a better physical and spiritual universe. A Rosicrucian Manifesto, Fama Fraternitatis Rosae Crucis, was published anonymously in 1614; however, it was known in manuscript form as early as 1610.8 It contained the legend of Christian Rosencreutz (C.R.) and claimed that C.R. undertook a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he was introduced to ancient esoteric knowledge. He studied mathematics, astronomy, physics the Kabbalah and magic. After many hardships, C.R. returned to Germany to form an esoteric Christian brotherhood—the Fraternity of the Rose Cross. This brotherhood consisted of elite scholars who travelled the world to reform Christianity and society. The second Rosicrucian Manifesto, Confessio Fraternitatis, was published anonymously in 1616. It verified the existence of the Fraternity and addressed the ‘learned of Europe’.9 The Confessio claimed that hidden characters and letters were written in the Bible and, just as a mathematician or astronomer knew when an eclipse was due, so could the members of the Fraternity understand the characters and letters in the Bible to ‘verify fore-known and fore-seen the darkness of the obscuration of the Church and how long they shall last’. Through their esoteric knowledge they have found from their studies a new language that ‘expressed and declared the nature of all things’.10 For all the esoteric language, both works are profoundly, and particularly Protestant, Christian documents. Although the Rosicrucian Order was reportedly a secret society of international Christian scholars, Fama and Confessio are attributed to a small circle of friends from Tübingen, Germany. They included a Paracelsian physician, Tobias Hess (1568–1614), a Professor of Jurisprudence, Christoph Besold (1577– 1638), a philosopher, Tobias Adami (1581–1643), a theological student, Johann Valentin Andreae (1586– 1654), and other elite scholars of Tübingen. Adami had brought some of Campanella’s manuscripts, including Civitas Solis, back to Tübingen by 1613 and had subsequently published them. According to Andreae, Adami suggested that the society be named Civitas Solis,11 but they were more frequently called Societas Christiana.12 The dating of the foundation of this society is problematic and there is conflicting evidence.13 Nevertheless, the publication of Fama and Confessio stimulated the formation of Protestant utopian brotherhoods and the rapid rise and popularity of these societies was a phenomenon of the times. These brotherhoods believed in a world where a universal reformed religion would govern over human activity, including the sciences; their main purpose was for the spiritual and educational improvement of society. 6 H. C. Erik Midelfort, A History of Madness in Sixteenth-Century Germany (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1999), 68. 7 Whaley, Germany and the Holy Roman Empire, 544. 8 Donald R. Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century (Leiden, Boston and Cologne: Brill, 1998), 18. 9 Attributed to Johann Valentin Andreae Anonymous, ‘Confessio Fraternitatis’, in The Rosicrucian Manuscripts, ed. Benedict J. Williamson (Woodbridge, Virginia: Invisible Collage Press, 2002), 122. 10 Anonymous, ‘Confessio Fraternitatis’, 130. 11 Edward H. Thompson, ‘Introduction’, in Christianopolis, ed. Edward H. Thompson (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1999), 29–30. 12 Donald R. Dickson, ‘Johann Valentin Andreae’s Utopian Brotherhood’, Renaissance Quarterly 49, no. 4 (1996), 767. 13 Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 44.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

Between 1614 and 1625 there were more than 400 writings that came from many diverse circles that related to this Rosicrucian phenomenon.14 However, as early as 1614 there was equally as much condemnation over this ‘deceitful fraternity’.15 In both Germany and France many courts refuted the credibility and existence of a secret society. Trials took place in 1619–1620 to correct ‘false’ doctrines, including Rosicrucianism; the son-in-law of the printer of the Rosicrucian manifestos, Philipp Homagius, was condemned to life in prison. This was in ‘order to discourage all those who pass themselves off as highly enlightened beings and as prophets or apostles sent to us, or who promise by a false and vain hope the philosophers’ stone and other great secrets, the great delight and blessing of God’.16 This public condemnation, the mysticism and the secrecy soon made the Rosicrucian orders an object of derision and the legend of Christian Rosencreutz was regarded as a hoax.17 The anonymous authorship of Fama and Confessio has been credited to Johann Valentin Andreae. There is disagreement to the extent of his role in these manifestos. Some scholars argue that he was the sole author of both, and despite his many orthodox religious writings he has been perceived as the arch-Rosicrucian with modern-day Rosicrucians erecting a temple in his honour in Calw, where he was a pastor for 19 years. It has also been claimed that he had no role in either of the manifestos.18 However, it has now been established that he was involved with both, particularly the Confessio, which was a commemorative work of his friend Tobias Hess.19 However, as early as 1619 he was distancing himself from the Rosicrucian Order, and in later life he refuted any involvement. In the preface of his most famous work—Christianopolis—published in 1619 he claimed that the serious failings of the society were a: … serious concern of theologians, there has been published remarkable evidence of a certain Fraternity, though in my opinion it is a joke. Although this appealed is primarily to the taste of the curious for strange and exaggerated things, that is, those things which people usually wish for, it included also the splendid hope of an improvement in the rotten state of affairs.20

Here he distanced himself from the mysticism of the Rosicrucian Order, while at the same time supporting its ideas. He continued ‘if we think this is a good idea, why do we not try to do something of the sort, without waiting for those [Rosicrucians]’.21 Andreae outlined the first of a succession of plans for Christian utopian in Christianopolis that he believed would bring about the rebirth of society as a whole. He strove to bring about these ideas for the next 35 years, at a point in history where war, violence and destruction were commonplace. 2. Christianopolis In the now well-established utopian tradition, Christianopolis was written as a fictional narrative. Equally in the same tradition, the city of Christianopolis was discovered as a consequence of a shipwreck. The narrator decided to attempt to cross the Academic Ocean, which had so often been hostile to him. This reference to the ‘Academic Ocean’ may relate to his real-life studies and writings, which had had a mixed reception. This included him being expelled for a period in 1607 for participating in posting a 14 Didier Kahn, ‘The Rosicrucian Hoax in France (1623–24)’, in Secrets of Nature: Astrology and Alchemy in Early Modern Europe, ed. R. William Newman and Anthony Grafton (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London: The MIT Press, 2006), 238. 15 Dickson, ‘Johann Valentin Andreae’s Utopian Brotherhood’, 777. 16 Judgment of the court, as quoted by Kahn, ‘The Rosicrucian Hoax in France (1623–24)’, 242. 17 Kahn, ‘The Rosicrucian Hoax in France (1623–24)’. 18 John Warwick Montgomery, Cross and Crucible: Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654) Phoenix of the Theologians (The Hague: Martinus Ninoff, 1973). 19 Dickson, ‘Johann Valentin Andreae’s Utopian Brotherhood’, 762. 20 Johann Valentin Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, in Christianopolis, ed. Edward H. Thompson (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1999), 150. 21 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 151.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

5.1 Cover page of Christianopolis Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1999.

scandalous pasquil and later failing his exams for his ordination in 1612: his knowledge of the Bible was found insufficient. He was unable to complete his examinations until 1613–1614.22 Additionally, his work on Fama and Confessio, although anonymous, was being met with praise, but even more derision. The narrator travelled the Academic Ocean in the ship of Fantasy, risking life and limb for the desire for knowledge. Unfortunately for the narrator, the sea became violent and he found himself shipwrecked on an island alone. The coordinates for his position were given as being in the ‘southern hemisphere, 10 degrees away from the pole, 20 degrees from the Equinoctial circle, and roughly below the twelfth point of the Bull’.23 An impossible position; so the island, like Utopia, was located nowhere. The island was called Capharsalama; this could have taken its name from a village mentioned in I Maccabees 7.31 that was near Jerusalem, but the site of this ancient village is unknown. Perhaps this was to add mystery to the island’s position. The name Capharsalama is also a combination of Hebrew words for 22 Dickson, ‘Johann Valentin Andreae’s Utopian Brotherhood’, 765. 23 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 156.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

‘place,’ or ‘village’ and ‘salvation’ or ‘peace’, giving the combination of a ‘village of peace’.24 The island was triangular, about 30 miles around and there were bountiful livestock, vineyards, woodlands, streams and fountains. A native of the city greeted the narrator and guided him to the city, where he was examined for his occupation and character, his physical appearance and his intellectual development. After this examination he was welcomed to the city. The city was a square of 700 feet; it was fortified with four bastions and a rampart. It was aligned to the cardinal points of the compass. It had eight massive towers and 16 smaller towers (Plate 10 and Figures 5.1 and 5.2). There were rows of storehouses, administrative buildings, two rows of domestic buildings, a large central college and a central courtyard containing the temple. Four hundred members lived in perfect religion and peace. Outside of the walls of the city was a 50-foot moat that was full of fish so that it did not lie idle in peace time. The first concentric row of buildings entering the city comprised the storehouses and administrative buildings. These were arranged in the zones. The east side of the city was the centre of farming activity. It was divided into two parts: 5.2 Ground plan of Christianopolis and key one side was dedicated to agriculture while the Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1999. other housed everything to do with stock rearing. The buildings were three stories high, and they stored all the farming needs for the city. On the south side were the mills and bakeries that supplied the bread and flour. There were also cellars for storing wine underneath the workshops. On the north side were the butcheries and kitchens for cleaning, roasting and stewing meat. There were also laundries for cleaning clothes and linen. On the west side were all the workshops to do with metals and minerals; for instance, for smelting, stamping, casting and moulding metals. On the other side were the workshops for the manufacture of salt, glass, bricks, earthenware and all other things that required heating. Each of the sides of the city were divided by a road; over this road was a large tower 30 feet broad and 45 feet deep; here was where the people of each quarter came together to perform their sacred and civil duties as often as the regulations for their trade required. Next were the living quarters (Plate 11). There were two rows of housing that were separated by 20 feet of road.25 The living quarters were three stories high, and each story had promenades. On the second and third floors there were covered balconies that crossed the road so that rainy weather would be no trouble. The living quarters were also in zones to house the craftsmen. The four sides were organised for the trades by four materials: metal, stone, wood and textiles. The artisans having greater art and skills were positioned in the inner row, and the outer row belonged to the less-skilled artisans. ‘For the relationship between the clock-maker and the saw-maker is the same as that between the organ-maker and box-maker and between the sculptor and a stonemason’.26 The narrator reported that he saw: 24 Rodica Biris and Deznan, ‘Knowledge and Rebirth: Some Considerations on Johann Valentin Andreae’s Christianopolis’, Studii de Stiinta si Cultura 7, no. 1 (2011), 155. 25 This is the same measurement for the roads as More used in Utopia. 26 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 171.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

… workers in bronze, tinsmiths, saw-makers, knife-makers, turners, makers of cabinets, sculptors, plasterers, fullers, weavers, furriers and cobblers. Among the superior arts were woodcarvers, clock-makers, goldsmiths, organ-makers, engravers, workers in gold leaf, ring-makers and a considerable number of others of this kind. There are also tanners, harness-makers, blacksmiths, wheelwrights, coopers, cement workers and glass workers in this place.27

Clothing and needlework were the province of women. All provisions were consumed privately, and they were all drawn from a communal store. There was no communal dining in Christianopolis, as Andreae claimed that people preferred to eat in their individual apartments. The apartments were not private property and were all built on the same model. Most apartments had three rooms; a sitting room, bedroom and kitchen. All the needs and requirements of the citizens were supplied from the stores and their way of life was simple. They had two kinds of garments: one suitable for work and the other for leisure. While their drinking vessels were made of glass, other vessels were made of pewter brass. If anything that was required beyond the daily use, for general or private use, the workshops would supply it ‘since the entire community was made up of craftsmen’;28 the city contained every skill and trade. The citizens of Christianopolis were educated in religion, the liberal arts and the sciences and they mastered their crafts and scholarship. The College was the heart of Christianopolis, and occupied the entire fourth row; it would justly be called ‘the primum mobile of the community’.29 Its square was 270 feet across on the outside and 190 feet across on the inside; it had four stories and a tower on each corner and on the inside square it had a handsome cloister of 72 columns. It contained a large library of 12 rooms and an armoury that was kept concealed within the College, as the citizens were reluctant to take up arms. However, they kept them as a precaution. There was a large archive and printing press that would produce all of the devotional texts that were needed for the community. There was a treasury, for although they did not need money as everything was provided, it was needed for dealings with outsiders. There were chemistry laboratories, pharmacy and an anatomy laboratory, museum of natural history, studios for painting and rooms for teaching the observation of astronomy and another for astrology. The governance of the College was by a triumvirate. The three leaders were in charge of separate offices: religion, justice and education. Each of these leaders was supported by a few assistants, and there was no large bureaucracy for any of the offices. Their decisions were announced by the Chancellor of the College. The community was governed by rules that were inscribed on two tablets. The first one was on religion, and consisted of 12 points that confirmed belief in: God, Christ and Mary; rebirth of the soul through confession; the resurrection; the infinite internal Christ; the eternal life; the day of judgement and the cleansing of the one holy universal church (Protestantism). The second tablet was the Constitution, and consisted of 10 rules that supplied information about morality and the rules of life. These 10 rules agreed with the laws of God and followed the Ten Commandments. All of the children of the community—boys and girls—were educated. After the age of six they would live and eat at the College. They were divided into three classes: infants, youths and young adults. On the upper floors were the eight lecture theatres. Three subjects being taught in each lecture theatre (see Table 5.1). The emphasis was on the liberal arts. However, there were also practical topics, such as foreign languages and the building of musical instruments. In Lecture Theatre Five the different interpretations of the heavens were investigated: astronomy, astrology and the Christians’ Heaven. At Tübingen, Andreae had developed a friendship with the mathematician Michael Maestlin, teacher of the astronomer Johann Kepler; through this relationship Andreae had become a correspondent of Kepler’s. In Christianopolis Andreae referred to Tycho Brahe as ‘most admirable’,30 but he was more interested in the recently invented telescope that had been introduced by Galileo and developed by Kepler. However, his examination of the heavens also included astrology, which he stated should be highly valued since it was the relationship between heaven and earth. 27 28 29 30

Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 172. Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 185. Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 187. Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 215.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

The third study of the skies was the Christians’ Heaven, which he believed was equally as important since the physical heaven had revealed the ‘most favourable auspices of heaven, and on a day of good omen, it will never experience the ill-will of heaven as long as God is worshipped here’.31 In Lecture Theatre Five, Andreae revealed a strange mixture of belief, superstition and an interest in cutting-edge technology and science that was emblematic of Christianopolis. Another topic taught that reveals what appear to be conflicting beliefs was the teaching of magic numbers in Lecture Theatre Three. In Confessio Fraternitatis Andreae had claimed that the Rosicrucians had developed a new language that had been developed from hidden characters and letters in the Bible; this gave the Rosicrucians an insight into the future of the Church.32 The mystic numbers in Christianopolis were for the more advanced student; he claimed that God: … has his own numbers and measurements, which it is fitting for man to contemplate. ‘It is certain that the Supreme Architect did not make his immense machine, the universe, at random, but incorporated measurements, numbers and proportions’.33

Adjacent to the eight lecture theatres were four rooms where medicine was taught, including anatomy. Another two rooms where set aside for the practice of jurisprudence, despite it being not necessary in Christianopolis. Table 5.1

The division of the subjects taught in the eight lecture theatres

Lecture Theatre

Subject Taught

Lecture Theatre One

Grammar in three languages: Hebrew, Greek and Latin Rhetoric Foreign languages

Lecture Theatre Two

Logic Metaphysics Theosophy

Lecture Theatre Three

Arithmetic Geometry Mystic numbers

Lecture Theatre Four

Music Musical instruments The choir

Lecture Theatre Five

Astronomy Astrology The Christian Heavens

Lecture Theatre Six

Natural history Civic history Church history

Lecture Theatre Seven

Ethics Political science Christian poverty

Lecture Theatre Eight

Theology The practice of theology Prophecies

31 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 240. 32 Anonymous, ‘Confessio Fraternitatis’, 130. 33 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 231.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Finally, in the centre of Christianopolis was the Temple. It was circular in shape, with a circumference of 316 feet and a height of 70 feet. The narrator claimed that the theology and the religious services of the citizens of Christianopolis were the same as the Protestant faith. He added that these citizens had no objection to the Christianity being practised in Protestant Germany, but did object to the morality currently being practised in Germany. The Temple was not only the centre of spiritual instruction; it was also the centre of secular activity where meetings took place. In the top of the Temple was the Council Hall; there were 24 councillors who were the most pious, righteous and industrious people of the community. The councillors did not alter their way of living or practising their trade and were greatly honoured by the rest of the community. In Christianopolis the citizens were law-abiding and deeply religious. They made provision for the aged, the sick and the paupers. In Christianopolis all was perfect, serene and peaceful. Yet, the narrator returned to his homeland to tell the story of this wondrous city; a utopian city as an ideal model and a way of life that could be emulated. 3. The Political Philosophy In the preface to Christianopolis, Andreae claimed that the book was planned to be an entertainment similar to Thomas More’s Utopia. However, he stated that his book was not as witty and was less serious than More’s. He had written it for his friends so they could share a joke with him, and he would not dare write it for more important people, even if he had wished to. ‘So that anyone who wishes to read my book do so, and may they keep in mind that we put up with much among friends and well-disposed people that would not stand up to examination by malevolent people’.34 In this strange apologetic statement he appears to be distancing himself from the content of his utopian society, and it reveals his concern about the rocky ‘Academic Ocean’. Yet, of all his copious writings, Christianopolis is the key to unlocking his theology and his desire for ‘an ideal society’ that he pursued for the rest of his life.35 His main influence and driving force was his religion and although his involvement in the Rosicrucian Order does reveal some unorthodox influences, fundamentally the majority of his theology, written after 1616, was extremely orthodox36 as expressed by his ‘indefensible hero’,37 Martin Luther. However, there are some clear influences throughout the text of Christianopolis: in particular, Thomas More’s concept of an ideal society and Campanella’s education system; his visit to Calvinist Geneva, where he was impressed by the moral order of the citizens; from his circle of friends from Tübingen came concepts of the brotherhood; Johann Arndt who promoted ideals of ‘practical’ Christianity; Durer’s design of an ideal city and his zones of artisans as a practical plan for a city. More, Campanella and Andreae used the tale of a shipwreck and the discovery of a new and ideal society as a device to ‘construct’ the cities and their ideals of social reform. In the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, the discoveries of new civilisations made Utopia, the City of the Sun and Christianopolis a feasible prospect; finding such cities would have appeared to be very possible. Furthermore, by ‘discovering’ the cities, the cities could be conceived as not being the author’s invention. Andreae was aware of both the City of the Sun in manuscript form38 and Utopia. Although there was a similarity in the overall structure of the tales of both More and Campanella, Andreae presented a more defined comprehensive plan of the city in its governance, society, education and urban planning. Christianopolis is clearly an individual work. However, the idea that the solutions to social problems can be sought in well-designed legal and institutional adjustments that are clearly articulated in Utopia had a strong influence on Campanella, and particularly on Andreae. 34 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 153. 35 Montgomery, Cross and Crucible: Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654) Phoenix of the Theologians, 122. 36 Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 31. 37 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 147. 38 Felix Emil Held, ‘Christianopolis: An Ideal State of the Seventeenth Century’ (University of Illinois, 1914), 18.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

The concept of the Rosicrucian brotherhood formed an ideal social edifice for Andreae. Cooperation was a key element of the society of Christianopolis, and he perceived that this Christian society could only be realised through brotherly love and unity. The Tübingen circle of friends and Societas Christiana had been highly influential in Andreae’s work through the fundamental philosophy that the Church and society could be reformed through our understanding of nature and Biblical texts. He was particularly influenced by Hess’s work on the relationship between the Book of Nature and the Book of the Word.39 Martin Luther had emphasised that the Bible alone was the road to salvation,40 but later Lutherans, such as Hess, integrated the relationship with nature, thus softening, but also maintaining, Luther’s original position. However, Andreae also strove for an ideal society that could be realised and overcame some of the problems of society with some immediacy. His visit to Calvinist Geneva in 1611 made a deep and permanent impression on him. Towards the end of his life he reflected on his visit with great nostalgia, stating that: Not only does this city enjoy a truly free political constitution; it has besides, as its particular ornamentals and means of discipline, the guidance of social life. By virtue of the latter, all the mores of the citizens and even their slightest transgressions are examined each week, first by neighbourhood supervisors, then by the Alderman, and finally by the Senate itself … The resulting moral purity does so much honour to the Christian religion, is so constant with it and so inseparable from it, that we should shed our bitterest tears that this principle is unknown or completely neglected in our circles; all men of good will ought to labour to restore its restoration. Indeed if religious differences had not made it impossible for me, the harmony of faith and morals of Geneva would have bound me there—and so from that time I have striven with all my energy to provide the like of our church.41

John Calvin had broken with Catholicism, and after leaving France in 1533 and had settled in Switzerland. After the publication of his The Institutions of the Christian Religion in 1536 he had been invited to help reform Geneva by the ruling elite. Calvin emphasised personal piety, presided over social reform and lead Geneva through its hard economic times. Calvinist Geneva was characterised by a rigorous lifestyle that was enforced by the town’s civic and ecclesiastical ordinance.42 Key to Calvin’s reform was education, and in 1559 the Academy of Geneva opened with Calvin presiding over its administration and curriculum. This academy established universal primary education, which was free for the poor. Calvin devised a catechetical system that centred on a Biblical text that was produced in the vernacular language. While Catholicism emphasised that only the Vulgate Bible could be interpreted by the priests, and not by the individual, Protestants emphasised personal but guided interpretation of the Biblical texts that were produced in vernacular languages. This resulted in a significant difference in levels of literacy between Protestant and Catholic communities.43 By the early seventeenth century Geneva had prospered both economically and socially. The social and educational reform of Geneva appealed to Andreae. However, it remained a strongly Calvinist city, and the Lutherans were diametrically opposed to Calvin’s theology. Although Andreae admired the city and its society, as a Lutheran preacher the religious differences made it impossible for him to stay. Geneva’s success verified the possibility that such social reforms were possible through practical Christian reform, ordinance and adherence. Andreae strongly emphasised utilitarian and empirical sciences. His college promoted the concept of universal education that was revealed in Christian, empirical and utilitarian knowledge. In the City of the Sun the children learned a variety of languages, the liberal arts, mechanical arts and the sciences by direct observation of the illustrated walls. They learned without toil and with pleasure, and with some explanations from the state magistrates. This style of learning parallels the mediaeval cathedral and its images. While the cathedral, particularly the stained glass windows, presented Biblical narratives to instruct the illiterate, these 39 Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 34. 40 Martin Luther, Mark Luther: Selections from His Writing (Toronto: Random House, 1962). 41 Montgomery, Cross and Crucible: Johann Valentin Andreae (1586–1654) Phoenix of the Theologians, 43–44. 42 William C. Innes, Social Concern in Calvin’s Geneva (Eugene, Oregon: Pickwick Publications, 1983), 11. 43 Harvey J. Graff, The Legacies of Literacy: Continuities and Contradictions in Western Culture and Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), 205.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

were also supported by the priest’s sermons. In short, the cathedral could be read as a stone Bible,44 just as Campanella’s City of the Sun could be read as the encyclopaedia of human knowledge. Campanella’s emphasis on utilitarian science may have been an influence on Christianopolis’ College, but the College had a rigidly structured curriculum, a catechetical system with an emphasis on science that was supported by more traditional lecture theatres and experimental laboratories. It required its own printing press for the production of devotional texts, emphasising the literacy of the community. However, new empirical sciences were not unique to Campanella, and his ideas would not have been Andreae’s only influence. Andreae’s correspondence with Kepler reveals his interest in astronomy and mathematics, and in 1614 he published Collectaneorum mathematicorum decades XI. centum & decem tabulis aeneis exhibitæ that contains a wide range of mathematical topics, including astronomy, fortification, algebra, horology, mechanics, perspectives and human proportions.45 The main aim of his education curriculum was that the citizens of Christianopolis would live a virtuous Christian life through understanding the liberal arts, the sciences and the mechanical arts. This not only advanced society; it gave a deeper understanding of God’s greater plan through an understanding of nature. Nevertheless, Andreae’s mathematics book and his description in Christianopolis reveal an ambivalence in his approach to astronomy that may stem from his belief in the Christian Heaven as being incorruptible. Despite all his mathematical training, he appears to promote a more Aristotelian position: that the heavens are incorruptible above the sphere of the moon. Tycho Brahe had discovered a new star between 1572 and 1574; other new stars appeared between 1601 and 1604, as viewed by Galileo with his new telescope.46 Andreae would have been aware of these discoveries, particularly through his correspondence with Kepler. While Kepler considered a more Platonic mathematical approach to the heavenly spheres, Andreae appears to have been reluctant to refute the perfection and immutability of the heavens. He also rejected the idea that curiosity was linked to scientific investigation. In Andreae’s Treatise on the Pestilence of Curiosity published in 1620 he described curiosity as being devoted to heresies—particularly mystical spiritualism—and he saw curiosity as including the buying or commissioning of clocks, statues, paintings, jewellery, fraudulent alchemists, practitioners of magic and divination and those who sought to find the secrets of perpetual motion.47 Curiosity was seen as the original temptation and as a sin. Adam’s temptation to take the apple in the Garden of Eden was pure curiosity. For Andreae, scientific investigation was instigated not from idle curiosity, but by the need to understand nature and God. The German Lutheran theologian Johann Arndt (1555–1621) stimulated the orthodox roots of Pietism, and his writings were so popular that they ran into hundreds of editions and overshadowed Luther’s influence in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.48 He published True Christianity in 1605, which advocated a major renewal movement based on practical Christianity. Andreae dedicated Christianopolis to the ‘Venerable and Most Worthy Gentleman Johann Arndt’ and he claimed that the new community of Christianopolis ‘owes its origins to you and looks to you with hope’.49 True Christianity was compiled from mystical and devotional writers; some of these writers could be seen as heretical in their own right and Arndt attempted to restore the mystical relationship between God and the believer that he felt the Reformation had removed. However, Arndt did not advocate secret brotherhoods or monastic-style retreat from the world. Nevertheless, he had a profound effect on Andreae by emphasising that true Christianity required a living, practical faith.50 44 Michael Camille, ‘Seeing and Reading: Some Visual Implications of Medieval Literacy and Illiteracy’, Art History 8, no. 1 (1985). 45 Johann Valentin Andreae, Collectaneorum Mathematicorum Decades Xi. Centum & Decem Tabulis Aeneis Exhibitae (Tübingen: Alexandri Cellii, 1614). 46 Edward G. Ruestow, Physics at Seventeenth and Eighteenth-Century Leiden: Philosophy and the New Science in the University (The Hague: Kluwer, 1973), 30. 47 Neil Kenny, The Uses of Curiosity in Early Modern France and Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), 111. 48 Carter Lindberg, ‘Introduction’, in The Pietist Theologians: An Introduction to Theology in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Century, ed. Carter Lindberg (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2005), 5. 49 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 145. 50 Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 37.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

From 1620 to 1639 Andreae served as a superintendent of the Lutheran churches in Calw. The city was in economic decline, and Andreae was determined to transfer Calvin’s principles that had shaped Geneva’s society to Calw. He founded the Färberstift (Dyer’s Charitable Institution) in 1621. This was a communityoriented mutual aid society supported by the merchants and the Clothing and Dyers Guild. It was a benevolent organisation that supported the poor, the infirm, craftsmen and students by employing them in the cloth industry. The Färberstift attempted to ensure better parenting, support the sick and poor students, provide economic stimulus to craftsmen, as well as caring for the sick, handicapped, widows and orphans, and the mentally ill. Community, employment and the application of progressive educational practices were the key to this social programme, which had a connection to the public library.51 The Thirty Years War continued to drag on throughout Andreae’s entire stay at Calw. In a letter to a friend in 1634, he revealed the hardship that the war was causing for Calw, and his concerns about the moral and spiritual degeneration of his flock. He claimed that ‘through murder, plunder, scorching, and burning, the seizing of our people and other destructive activities, the size of our population has diminished by two thirds’.52 People were left destitute, orphaned, with many hospitalised and even more to bury. They were impoverished by a fierce war tax that they were unable to pay. ‘Still, the war tax collectors are threatening us anew with burnings and laying waste, with torture and forced labour. If they are allowed to carry on like this, we will all soon be dead’.53 A year later plague swept through the land and he buried another 430 of his flock. In the burnings and destruction of Calw, Andreae lost all of his papers, including some paintings from his favourite artist Dürer.54 However, before he left Calw in 1639 he had re-established the Färberstift, and it continued to function until 1979. The Färberstift embodied his ideas of brotherhood, practical Christianity and education that were expressed in Christianopolis. A significant difference between the Färberstift and Christianopolis was that the former was a charitable institution within a hierarchical social structure, while the latter was an egalitarian organised society. The Färberstift assisted a section of the community and was clearly successful, given its existence for over 350 years. However, in Christianopolis Andreae desired to reform society as a whole. Although Christianopolis outwardly appears to be a monastic establishment, it was a city of tradesmen and families. Going from the description of the trades, Christianopolis produced a variety of goods beyond the needs of 400 people, and some of the trades produced goods that they would not have needed, such as a locksmith, and their products would have been purely for trade. Although the city did not need money itself, it produced gold and silver coins to deal and trade its surplus and goods with outsiders. Andreae perceived Christianopolis as a small city-state within an empire, and although an independent city, it was subservient to an emperor. The citizens needed money to ‘pay tribute to Caesar’;55 they paid their taxes to the Emperor, they bargained with visitors, they gave donations to travellers, they hired mercenaries when necessary and they maintained their embassies, just like any other city-state of the Holy Roman Empire. However, this city-state had no real status. It was a model not for an enclosed monastery that people could escape to, but a functioning city within an empire or equivalent political structure. When the narrator arrived at Christianopolis, it was explained to him that this city was established by necessity. The faithful had been driven out and had gone into exile. Presumably the emperor who received their taxes was the head of a Protestant Empire, an alternative to the war-torn and religiously divided Holy Roman Empire. Christianopolis was not intended to be like Utopia or the City of the Sun; both these were political entities in themselves, not part of empire, like Christianopolis. The urban plan of Christianopolis had four main sections: warehouses and workshops, the domestic quarters, the College and the Temple. The zones for the different industries were clearly defined and were organised for the mutual benefit of the trades. Although Christianopolis was egalitarian, the two domestic rows were organised not only by their materials, but the inner row was reserved for the higher trades. Praise and 51 Gerhard Wirth, ‘Festpredigt in Der Stadtkirche Calw’, in Johann Valentin Andrea 1586–1654, ed. Gerhard Wirth (Bad Liebenzell: Verlag Bernhar Gengenbach, 1987). Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 285; Held, ‘Christianopolis: An Ideal State of the Seventeenth Century’, 13; Dickson, ‘Johann Valentin Andreae’s Utopian Brotherhood’, 58. 52 Eric Lund, Documents from the History of Lutheranism, 1517–1750 (Augsburg: Augsburg Fortress, 2002), 177. 53 Lund, Documents from the History of Lutheranism, 1517–1750, 178. 54 Dickson, The Tessera of Antilia: The Utopian Brotherhoods & Secret Societies in the Early Seventeenth Century, 28. 55 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 207.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

emphasis were placed on the skills of the artisan. However, all of these artisans were not ordinary tradesmen; they were educated men. Andreae believed that education was for everybody, not just an elite few. He stated that ‘learning is not of such subtlety, and craftsmanship is not so difficult, that one man is not able [to] master both if he has the time’.56 However, some are drawn to specialise in particular arts and they become masters of that craft over their fellows; the main hierarchical structure of Christianopolis was skill and piety. Like all city-states Christianopolis was fortified. For Andreae the study of fortification was a science and a branch of mathematics. In Collectaneorum mathematicorum he revealed a study of fortifications and he reproduced a plan of the ‘perfect’ fortification by Alsatian fortress 5.3 A small fortified complex from Andreae, architect, engineer and cartographer Daniel Collectaneorum mathematicorum Speckle, as part of this study.57 He also constructed Source: Drawn by Author from Andreae 1614. a preliminary plan of a small fortified complex that resembled Christianopolis (see Figure 5.3),58 followed by an analysis of the different alignments of triangular bastions.59 This plan does not resemble the perfect fortification of Speckle, but its overall shape is more reminiscent of Dürer’s work on fortifications, Etliche Underricht. The round bastions of Dürer have been replaced with the more modern triangular bastions that are similar to Speckle’s, but the overall plan is strikingly similar to Dürer’s. It is interesting that although Andreae’s study of fortifications main authority rests on the account of Daniel Speckle, in his ideal city it is Dürer’s design that he turned to. In Collectaneorum mathematicorum Andreae dedicated the section on ‘Delineation’ to Dürer. He praised Dürer for his excellent quality of work and his thorough explanations of how to sketch things in outline.60 He also copied two geometrical structures from Dürer’s Underweysung der Messung.61 Speckle’s perfect fortified city was an octagon, with a far more complex structure than Dürer’s square fortified city. The four divisions and the zones of Christianopolis could be better oriented to the square rather than an octagon. However, with Andreae’s familiarity with Dürer’s work, he may have been influenced by the design and the layout of the zones in Etliche Underricht, as they are extremely functional and utilitarian. The small fortified complex had one entrance only, the Eastgate, and the centre was occupied by the main dwelling; both of these aspects are similar to Dürer’s plan. Where Dürer placed the tradesmen’s housing, this small fortified complex has four double gardens, each with a fountain in each quarter. Even the bastions marked 3 and 4 on his diagram were also gardens of ‘appropriate uses’,62 presumably the kitchen gardens. While the plan of the fortified complex has a similarity in its sketch in outline with Dürer’s fortified city, the zones specified for Christianopolis are planned in a similar fashion to Dürer’s. Nevertheless, gardens play no role in Dürer’s plan, but they are a significant section of Christianopolis. There were two gardens beside each other; both were utilitarian: a botanical garden for instruction in nature and healing, and a garden that was a place of beauty and contemplation (Plate 12). They were positioned between 56 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 172. 57 Joannis Valentin Andreae, Collectaneorum Mathematicorum Decades XI. Centum & Decem Tabulis Aeneis Exhibitae (Tübingen: Alexandri Cellii, 1614), Plate 89. 58 Drawn by Author from Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum, Plate 77. 59 Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum, Plates 85–88. 60 Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum, F1. 61 Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum, Plates 107 & 108. 62 Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum, Plate 78.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

the College and the domestic housing. In Campanella’s City of the Sun, the central temple was the religious heart of the city. However, in Christianopolis the religious practices of the citizens are dispersed throughout the city; the emphasis was not only on religious service but on personal reflection and contemplation. Andreae claimed that the gardens were more than just mere ornament. In the garden: … they learned, however, the judgement of human beauty, which is like the flowers gathered in a single year: we are born, we grow up, blue, fade and wither. From our deaths comes further birth and multiplication … They learned to understand the multiplicity and diversity of His gifts here, and are united with God by their pleasing perfume! And why is it necessary to count up how much man can learn from God’s creation, with the smallest leaf contains the whole lecture?63

The Temple was the main meeting place of the entire community for services on Sundays, but it was equally secular as religious, with the council meeting on the upper floor. Although the men of the council that governed the city were selected for their great piety, there was a division, albeit like-minded, between the secular leaders and the religious leader. Despite the fact that jurisprudence was taught in the College, there was little need for laws in the community, and this council seems more to do with the policing of morals than with administering city ordinances. The education system and the lifestyle and plan of the city with its zones and gardens were designed to positively instil good habits and morality into the citizens. There were public prayer meetings three times a day, and nobody was to be absent from these meetings without the strongest of reasons.64 However, the initial policing of the morals appears to be with the citizens themselves and not the council. If there were any ‘backsliders’ who had rejected the warnings of brothers, parents and officials the community would work together to reform such a person. The last resort would be to expel them from the community.65 Andreae did not advocate the style of ecclesiastical ordinance of Calvinist Geneva,66 but moral control was enforced by the citizens and their lifestyle in Christianopolis. Although there are clear influences and similarities in the ideals of a utopian city in Christianopolis, it presents an entirely different educational, city and political structure from previous utopian writings. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Figure 5.2 illustrates the plan of Christianopolis and its divisions. The city was only 700 feet square and housed 400 people. Most of the flats contained three rooms, as described above, which would have been small for most families. Once children were six years old they would live at the College, thus the families living in these small flats would only consist of the parents and children under six. Personal belongings were few and simple in Christianopolis; there was no large furniture and nobody had extravagant tailoring67 so there was no need for large cupboards or chests. Although they had a kitchen, they would have done extremely little cooking since the food was prepared in the outer row of the city.68 The laundry was also located in the outer row.69 These small flats were built for comfort and warmth, with double windows—one of wood and one of glass—and were cool in summer since it was possible to open both the double windows. There was also some sort of central heating system; unfortunately, it is not very well defined. The interior of these flats was simple, but while they were small, it was a spacious city. Over 50 per cent of the city consisted of open spaces: roads, the central square, the gardens and the bastions, and the domestic gardens that were created for instruction, health and fragrance (Plate 12).

63 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 273. 64 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 171. 65 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 264. 66 Robert M. Kingdom, ‘The Control of Morals in Calvin’s Geneva’, in The Social History of the Reformation, ed. Lawrence P. Buck and Jonathan W. Zophy (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1972). 67 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 184. 68 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 166. 69 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 167.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

5.4 Elevation of Christianopolis from the street of workshops and storehouses Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Andreae 1999.

The city was built of brick and the living quarters were divided by stepped walls, possibly with stepped gables, which would hold back fire by preventing it spreading in the living quarters.70 There was a promenade on every floor, and pedestrian bridges on the upper floors to connect the living quarters (Plate 11). It was possible to stay dry in wet weather and to easily travel throughout the domestic quarters of the city. The towers in the domestic quarter contained lifts for raising heavy articles to the upper floors. In many ways the domestic quarters could be considered quite modern in their conveniences. The College was only a short walk from the domestic quarters; it was four stories high, the ground floor was 12 feet high and each floor was reduced by a foot in height so that the fourth floor was nine feet high and the towers on the corner rose another eight feet. In the centre of the city was the square that contained the Temple. ‘It is a royally magnificent building in which opulence vies with art’.71 It was 100 feet in diameter and the body of the church was 70 feet high and all of the 400 citizens of the town could be accommodated within it: ‘benches have been dug out of the earth and excavated so that the building does not have to be so high and everybody’s ears are equally distant from the mouth of the speaker.’72 The image of the city printed in Christianopolis (Figure 5.1) shows the Temple to be thinner and more elongated than the specified size, and this also makes the open space of the central square look a great deal larger. Nevertheless, the Temple was still the dominant building in the city (Plate 10). Like Dürer’s fortified city, every area of the city had a specified use, and there was an absence of the idea of growth in the city. There was a great deal of variety in the defined scheme in its industrial, commercial, educational and religious zones, all incorporated to construct a highly coherent plan. Yet there was no feeling that the city would have been ‘a living organism’.73 Nevertheless, in 1619 at the beginning of the Thirty Years War it must have appeared to be a most safe, secure and desirable city. 5. Conclusion Like the Renaissance Humanists, the Reformation leaders believed that the solution to understanding and knowledge was retained in ancient sources through the Biblical and Patristic texts, rather than the scholarly Classical texts. For Andreae, scientific investigation was permeated with the presence of God. When the narrator had arrived at the island of Capharsalama he claimed that it was like a model of the entire world: 70 71 72 73

Note 432, Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 184. Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 257. Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 258. Patrick Abercrombie, ‘Ideal Cities – No. 1: Christianopolis’, The Town Planning Review 8, no. 2 (1920), 103.

Johann Valentin Andreae—Christianopolis

‘You would believe that heaven had married the earth here.’74 In the chemistry laboratory of the College, he stated that chemistry was a ‘very accurate midwife of nature’, for it was very helpful to the human race and conducive to health. ‘Heaven is married to the earth here, and the divine mysteries imprinted on the earth are discovered once more.’75 Science was utilitarian, for closely examining nature made it possible for man to control the earth and its creatures for man’s benefit. More importantly, it was to uncover the divine and was expressed as a sacred marriage between the human body and divine spirit.76 The astral magic of Campanella would have been for Andreae idle curiosity, for science was a confirmation of God’s plan, and anything beyond an investigation and confirmation was bordering on the heretical. In Christianopolis the teaching of science was not to advance scientific knowledge, but to further knowledge of God through understanding nature. Christianopolis represented the new age of science. However, it was still grounded in medieval monasticism and science and religion were inseparable. Andreae’s College was emblematical of Protestant social reform. Science was not perceived as being a topic that was worthy of pursuing in its own right. It was not considered the solution to the social problems of the city. This solution was through improving the morals of the citizens, and science was only a facilitator to that understanding. This represents a very different understanding to that of the empiricist Francis Bacon (1561–1626), who considered science to be ‘a great building erected stone by stone through the works of his predecessors and his contemporary fellow scientists, a structure that will continue but never completed by his successors’.77 Although he wrote no thesis on curiosity, it is clear from his most significant work, The Advancement of Learning, published in 1605, that he advocated an insatiable learning that encompassed all areas of existence.78 While honouring the supremacy of God, he perceived that science’s objective was the social unity of knowledge and blended both contemplation and action to guarantee self-knowledge, while also providing the endless pleasure that the insatiable appetite of curiosity demands.79 New Atlantis was Bacon’s utopian world, and propagated his principles of education outlined in The Advancement of Learning. His unfinished utopian novel used the familiar form of the shipwreck to discover an island of Bensalem; at the heart of the city was his ideal College, Solomon’s house that housed a society of learned men. Although the citizens of Bensalem had a high moral character and implicit faith in God, their lifestyles were not as simple and without luxury as the other utopias. Bacon described the lavish clothes and the wealth of the island.80 His description of the activities of Solomon’s house was detailed, and he outlined their scientific quests, including those for perpetual motion and the imitation of the flight of birds, new mixtures and unquenchable compositions of gunpowder burning in water, and much more.81 The house of Solomon was built on speculation and empirical science. Bacon’s approach to empirical scientific research was later used as a model for The Royal Society of London and instigated the Scientific Revolution of the late seventeenth century. In Thomas Sprat’s first biography of the Society, published in 1734, he praised Bacon and placed ‘curiosity of all sober enquiries into truth’82 as a central pivotal element of the pursuit of scientific knowledge. It is thought that New Atlantis was written around 1623,83 and was posthumously published as an unfinished work in 1627, which has raised questions about the influence of the Colleges of Campanella and 74 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 156. 75 Andreae, ‘Christianopolis’, 206. 76 Biris and Deznan, ‘Knowledge and Rebirth: Some Considerations on Johann Valentin Andreae’s Christianopolis’, 158. 77 Judah Bierman, ‘Science in Society in the New Atlantis and Other Renaissance Utopias’, Modern Language Association 78, no. 5 (1963), 500. 78 Francis Bacon, ‘The Advancement of Learning’, in The Major Works, ed. Brian Vickers (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). 79 Barbara M. Benedict, Curiosity: A Cultural History of Early Modern Inquiry (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2001), 19. 80 Francis Bacon, ‘New Atlantis’, in Francis Bacon: The Major Works, ed. Brian Vickers (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 462ff. 81 Bacon, ‘New Atlantis’, 479–486. 82 Thomas Sprat, The History of the Royal Society of London, for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge (London, 1734), 3. 83 Held, ‘Christianopolis: An Ideal State of the Seventeenth Century’, 45.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Andreae on New Atlantis. This question can never be satisfactorily resolved, but Bacon was in contact with international scholars and, given the emphasis of education by these utopian authors, it is at least likely that he was aware of their works.84 However, how much influence they had is problematic, particularly on Solomon’s house, given that he had already established his educational theory in 1605. Filarete promoted the idea that the architecture and social institutions in his complex in Sforzinda could change society, particularly through the role of the artisan. However, this idea was not clearly articulated until the publication of More’s Utopia. More’s cities in Utopia appear to have been typical late medieval cities; he did not equate the idea that changing the social institutions would require a change in the city plan. While Dürer acknowledged the significance of architecture and town planning for changing the lives and work of artisans, he did not promote any change in the governance or institutions of the city. Andreae, and to some extent Campanella, realised that these new social institutions would need a new form of city. Throughout the Renaissance and into the early modern period, the utopian city changed dramatically in the social structures and institutions that created the city, and the ideals behind the cities demonstrated the emergence of the modern nation-state and a new view of reality. In each of these cities the artisans had an important role in that society; this new reality began to include universal education and they propagated social structures that were well ahead of their time. This new view of society and its role was the prelude to the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment, and as such, is extremely important in the history of ideas.

84 Held, ‘Christianopolis: An Ideal State of the Seventeenth Century’; Paola Spinozzi, ‘Utopia, the City of the Sun and New Atlantis as Manifestos of Utopian Ideals in the European Renaissance’, Litteraria Pragensia 23, no. 4 (2013).

Part II Utopian Cities of the Industrial Revolution: From an Agrarian Society to Cooperative and Industrial Cities

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Chapter 6

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

1. Background Thomas More believed that England under the reign of Henry VIII was developing commercial capitalism and that this was replacing the traditional agrarian society. Businesses, such as the production of wool, were changing the rural landscape. In Utopia Hythloday claimed that sheep, ordinarily so meek and requiring so little to maintain them, now ‘stop the course of agriculture, destroying houses and towns, reserving only the churches and enclosing grounds that they would lodge the sheep in them’.1 Nobleman, gentlemen and even some abbots were enclosing fields for the production of wool. The inhabitants of the villages not only lost their houses, but also their livelihoods. They flocked to the city in the hope of finding employment. One of the most significant motivators of philosophies and design for a utopian city in the eighteenth to nineteenth centuries was what are now called the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions. With the rise of the urban population in Britain there was a need for increased food production. This was achieved in two different ways; first, through an increase in available land under agriculture, and second, through improved techniques and the mechanisation of farming. Although enclosures began in More’s time, by the seventeenth century the process of land reform through ‘enclosure’ was established. This process involved landowners enclosing land that had traditionally been used as common grazing land by the villagers. This had a devastating effect on the large population of villagers who depended upon these common lands to sustain their livestock. Although villagers were labourers on neighbouring farms, they supplemented their wages through other means, such as small-scale farming, since labouring could not produce a sufficient living. They generally lived on small plots from one to four acres with certain pastoral rights to the common land.2 As they lost the pastoral rights they could no longer sustain their own farming practices and had to increasingly rely on their employment as a labourer to sustain their living.3 By 1710, 47 per cent of the commons in England had been enclosed.4 Many of these enclosures had been accomplished with the help of Acts of Parliament. Although these enclosures were denounced by the Church, the development of agricultural mechanisation and the increase of industrialisation intensified the need for more land under agriculture. Eventually the controversy that surrounded enclosures led to the Enclosure Consolidation Act of 1801 (sometimes referred to as General Enclosure Act), which recognised the accelerated pace of the establishment of enclosures over the last century. The Act provided villagers with compensation for the loss of the commons but generally it supplied smaller and less arable plots of land, for which the villagers were obliged to provide prohibitively expensive fencing for their allotments. It was a case of very little and far too late, and was considered a ‘dismal half measure,’5 since by 1801 there was virtually no common land left. Farms grew larger, and although labourers were still required, with the new efficiencies in farming, such as crop rotation, new fertilisers, irrigation systems and mechanisation, a significant proportion of the rural population was displaced and there was a systematic reduction in the number of rural villages through depopulation and demolition.6 The consequence of these enclosures was the depopulation of the countryside and a further increase in the urban population. However, enclosure was not the only reason for the depopulation 1 Thomas More, Utopia (Rockwell, Maryland: Arc Manor, 2008), 21. 2 Louis W. Moffit, England on the Eve of Industrial Revolution (London: Taylor and Francis, 2013), 106. 3 J. D. Chambers and G. E. Mingay, The Agricultural Revolution 1750–1888 (London: B. T. Batsford, 1966), 19. 4 Mark Overton, Agricultural Revolution in England: The Transformation of the Agrarian Economy 1500–1850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 148. 5 Chambers and Mingay, The Agricultural Revolution 1750–1888, 121. 6 Gillian Darley, Villages of Vision: A Study of Strange Utopias (Nottingham: Five Leaves Publications, 2007).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

of the countryside. The Agricultural Revolution made possible the Industrial Revolution, which further displaced many villages. The enclosures increased the urban population that was dependent upon waged employment and were no longer food producers themselves. As urban dwellers they fuelled the increased demand for food and commodities. This in turn fuelled the need for more technology to improve production, which added to the already swelling urban population and a further demand for food and commodities. Spinning wool, cotton or flax was a stable industry in many cottage homes and was a major occupation for many women in both weaving and spinning districts in the first half of the eighteenth century.7 These cottage proto-industries were a form of industrialisation before industrialisation. They occurred in the countryside among the villagers mainly to subsidise the meagre incomes from their small farms, which were insufficient in size to supply the family with a living. The goods produced were mostly textiles with a mass marketing potential, but also included gloving, straw plaiting, glass, leather and metalwork.8 Proto-industrialisation drew a clear distinction between country and town. The manufacturing was executed in the country, while the towns were centres of trade and commerce. In some regions the demand of the market became so strong that the manufacturing outstripped the available labour source, thereby introducing changes in industrial organisation and techniques. The proto-industries in turn led to factory-based processes of mass production to increase output.9 Although very organised in their marketing practices, the proto-industries were distributed throughout the countryside. Each of these mills was highly mechanised and employed hundreds, and in some establishments, thousands, of weavers, who worked extremely long hours under poor conditions. Developments in spinning and weaving technology from the 1730s increased production through mechanisation. The textile mills of the mid-eighteenth century were first powered by horses and then water. By the end of the eighteenth century the steam engine, primarily fuelled by coal, eventually increased production. However, even into the 1830s water power was still being used in mills. In 1833, at the mill at Darley Abbey on the Derwent River they estimated their water power at 100 horsepower.10 With each technological development different social problems eventuated. Darley Abbey was typical of many mills in the countryside that were located at sites where there was either no town, or an insignificant town, when the mills were being constructed. Mills linked to water power were beginning to be located in sparsely populated areas and housing development, if offered, was more often than not accommodation that was crowded, dormitory style and with buildings holding up to 500 residents. Similar residences were being provided on the larger farms, particularly where villages had been demolished. As the steam engine became more efficient more factories developed in urban areas. Towns like Manchester became the dominant industrial cities, housing many factories and slums. The map of urban distribution in Britain radically changed in the late eighteenth century. Cities became larger and more sprawling, towns were created where no town had existed before, and village life was being eroded and in some areas completely disappeared. This change brought about a great many hardships, and artists and poets romanticised the plight of the villager and the demise of the cottage industries. Oliver Goldsmith’s poem ‘The Deserted Village’, first published in 1770, not only outlined the plight of the villagers, but also commented on the permanent change in society: Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied.11

7 Moffit, England on the Eve of Industrial Revolution, 179. 8 Rab Houston and K. D. M. Snell, ‘Proto-Industrialisation? Cottage Industry, Social Change, and Industrial Revolution’, The Historical Journal 27, no. 2 (1984), 473. 9 L. A. Clarkson, Proto-Industrialisation: The First Phase of Industrialisation (London: Macmillan, 1985), 27. 10 Jean Lindsay, ‘An Early Industrial Community—The Evans’ Cotton Mill at Darley Abbey Derbyshire, 1783– 1810’, The Business History Review 34, no. 3 (1960). 11 Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village (London, 1770), 4.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

The poem was dedicated to Joshua Reynolds and hit an accord with the general public, and was an instant success. Goldsmith deeply regretted the depopulation of the countryside and this lengthy poem was a plea that was directed at the politicians. Artists’ representations of the villager or their industries became unrealistically romantic and harked back to an earlier era. Landscape painting flourished, and themes ranged from the epic and historic through to the escapist and rustic nostalgia. For example, ‘Cornard Wood, near Sudbury Suffolk’ by Thomas Gainsborough was painted in 1748. This painting is of common land where villagers are gathering wood and grazing animals, exercising their ancient rights. ‘Flatford Mill’ by John Constable in 1816 depicts a rustic small village mill with villagers outside. These scenes were fast disappearing and there were noticeably no factories in sight. Images of poverty were also widespread in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; however, most of these were in working sketch form rather than for public consumption, for instance, the ‘Cottage, Beggar and Hollyhocks’ watercolour sketch depicting a ragged figure begging at a cottage door was painted by Joseph William Turner in 1801. The woodcut that illustrates Goldsmith’s ‘Deserted Village’ by Thomas Bewick was for public consumption. The villagers depicted were more demoralised and dejected than ragged. Perhaps one of strangest images of poverty of the late eighteenth century is ‘Portrait of Sir Francis Ford’s Children Giving a Coin to a Beggar Boy’ by William Beechey, exhibited in 1793 and now held at the Tate Britain in London. It is a massive painting, 1,800 cm by 1,500 cm, of two well-dressed children giving a boy dressed in rags a gold coin. This image is particularly poignant since this statement of generous charity is somewhat outweighed by the fact that Sir Francis Ford was a plantation owner and a politician who actively supported slavery. The French Revolution was producing radical thinking and debate that was stirring up society. In Britain, the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions were also stimulating a wealth of political philosophies. An Enquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith was published in 1776, which advocated a laissez faire system of government,12 and Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France, first published in 1790, defended the French monarchy and considered the French Revolution a terrible mistake.13 These texts are perhaps the seminal texts of traditional British conservatism. These works inspired radical and comprehensive replies in works such as William Godwin’s An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice published in 1793. Godwin believed that the society was in need of mutual assistance and that its guiding moral principles should be justice. The best social environment for this mutual assistance should be characterised by decentralisation and simplification. Thomas Spence also promoted decentralisation, at first through one penny pamphlets and later through books and broadsheets, in which he argued that all land should be publicly owned by democratic parishes and that land in these parishes should be equally distributed between the parishioners. Furthermore, there should be universal suffrage, and all humans should be free of abuse and poverty. Rights of Man: Being an Answer to Mr Burke’s Attack on the French Revolution by Tom Paine, published in 1791, started as a direct attack against Burke but continued to discuss man’s natural rights, poverty, and finally argued that the government’s purpose should be to protect the inalienable rights of man. Calls for government intervention and land reform fell on deaf ears. Paine was tried and convicted for seditious libel in absentia after the publication of the Rights of Man and never returned to England. Spence moved from Newcastle to London and opened a book shop in Chancery Lane in 1792, where he was arrested for selling the Rights of Man. However, he was not prosecuted. In 1794, he opened a shop ‘The Hive of Liberty’ in Little Turnstile, Holborn, where he ran a small publishing business and published his own work. He was arrested again in 1800 on suspicion of high treason for the publication of The Restorer of Society to its Natural State; to a Fellow Citizen and was committed to Newgate Prison, where he remained without trial for eight months and was later released. In the following years, until his death in 1814, he was repeatedly arrested for ‘seditious libel’ but not charged before again returning to his publishing business.14 12 Samuel Fleischacker, On Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations: A Philosophical Companion (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2009). 13 Stephen K. White, Edmund Burke: Modernity, Politics and Aesthetics (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2000). 14 Olive Durant Rubkin, Thomas Spence and His Connections (London: Allen and Unwin Ltd, 1927).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

By the beginning of the nineteenth century, although radical political movements were beginning to agitate they had little power to affect the conservative government of the day. The government appeared to be reluctant to instigate any reforms and the reforms that they did initiate, such as the Enclosure Consolidation Act of 1801, were insufficient. There had been laws to assist the poor that had been established in Elizabethan times. The growing ranks of the poor occupied a central place in the discourse of the Tudor Court, but in reality this hardly mattered to the large numbers of the impoverished. A system of workhouses for the poor dates at least from the early seventeenth century. Many of these were corporations for the poor and had been promoted by sectarian and dissenting bodies. The Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge took charge of the workhouse movement at the beginning of the eighteenth century, but with the increasing numbers of poor the parishes were soon erecting workhouses. ‘A 1777 survey found 1,196 workhouses across England housing an estimated 90,000 paupers deferring a far greater number … By 1803, there were around 3,765, roughly one in every market size town’.15 Philanthropic societies formed all over Britain. The Society for the Bettering of the Conditions and Increased the Comforts of the Poor was founded with the help of Sir Thomas Bernard and the English politician William Wilberforce in 1796. The first report of the Society, edited by Bernard, was published in 1797. The aim of the Society was to scientifically enquire into all the concerns of the poor and to find a satisfactory solution in a rational manner. In his introduction, Bernard quoted Smith’s Wealth of Nations; ‘Let us then give effect to that masters-spring of action that on which equally depends the prosperity of the individual and of nations [that is] “the desire implanted in the human beast of bettering its condition.”’16 However, the report quoted and referenced a wide range of political ideologies of the time. The report of 1797 consisted of extracts from accounts of projects that assisted the poor. They range from reports of supplying the poor with fuel after an enclosure, spinning schools, the creation of village shops, and accounts of gaols and houses of correction. Bernard claimed that the industrious labourer should be supplied by the landowner with sufficient portion of garden ground, means to keep his cow, improved fireplaces and an increased supply of food so as to give them more comfort in their habitations.17 These reports of the Society came out at regular intervals until 1811. The first report of 1797 consisted of 70 pages, while the third volume published in 1802 consisted of 512 pages. Such philanthropy and inquiry was increasing, largely in response to the lack of governmental action. France produced very few literary utopians in the eighteenth century. However, utopian projects of the architects Étienne-Louis Boullée and Claude-Nicolas Ledoux dominated French utopian thought of the eighteenth century. Both Boullée and Ledoux used geometrical shapes in their designs to symbolise the combination of reason and nature. Boullée made a political argument about how France should conceive of government through his monumental innovative architecture, and monumentalised public institutions in his National Assembly projects. He expressed the fundamental nature of the public institutions through impressive scale, geometry and highly contrasting light and shadow. He created a geometric purification of public architecture and government.18 Ledoux’s Royal’s saltworks, commissioned by Louis XV and built at Arc-et-Seans, was begun in 1775. The final plan was the ideal city of Chaux, which in the original plan approved by the King was an oval. Half was to be the industrial complex and the other half of the oval was to be the city. Unfortunately, the city was never completed, perhaps because of the French Revolution. Only the industrial half of the oval was built, but this industrial complex remains one of the finest examples of Enlightenment architecture in the world. After the French Revolution Ledoux’s architectural practice did not thrive, perhaps because of his royal connections, many of whom were sent to the guillotine, and many of his projects were stopped. He turned to recording his major projects in a book entitled L’Architecture considérée sous le rapport de l’art, des mœurs et de la législation 15 Michael Andrew Žmolek, Five Centuries of Transition from Agrarian to Industrial Capitalism in England (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 377. 16 Thomas Bernard, ed., The First Report of the Society for Bettering the Conditions and Increasing the Comfort of the Poor (London, 1796), iv. 17 Bernard, The First Report, xiii. 18 Manfredo Tafuri, Architecture and Utopia: Design and Capitalist Development (Cambridge, Massachusetts, and London: The MIT Press, 1988).

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

(Architecture Considered Under the Relation of Art and Legislation), which was published in 1804 and was extremely influential in the nineteenth century. One of the architects influenced by the French visionary architects was Joseph Michael Gandy. He was born in 1771 in London, where his father was a butler employed by the proprietor of White’s Club, John Martindale. When the clubhouse was being rebuilt Martindale employed the architect James Wyatt. Martindale showed Wyatt some of Gandy’s drawings and as a result the 15-year-old Gandy was apprenticed to Wyatt’s architectural practice. He became a student at the Royal Academy and received its gold medal in 1790, and in 1794 Gandy travelled to Italy to further his architectural knowledge at the expense of Martindale. While in Italy, Napoleon’s army invaded and Gandy found himself in occupied Rome. In England, the economic situation with the French Wars was affecting many businesses and Martindale’s business went bankrupt.19 In a letter of 4 March 1797 Gandy had drawn up an inventory of his possessions: 24 books on architecture, 154 Piranesi prints, 300 studies and architectural drawings, and 30 sketchbooks of architecture and memorandums.20 When Martindale was no longer able to pay for Gandy’s travels, Gandy had to sell everything when he fled the Napoleonic army and returned to England. In Italy, Gandy managed to visit Tivoli and Albano in the autumn, and in 1795 he visited Cori via Velletri with the landscape painter George Augustus Wallis. He was also able to visit Palestrina, Frascati, Marino and Ariccia by foot, and in late November he made an excursion through the Abruzzi.21 In a letter to his father he wrote that he had walked and sketched the areas around Rome and that he had gone to places that many architects had never been. He stated ‘I get at buildings few other architects visit, and it has led me into a study whereby I am making a series of designs without neglecting the antique, adapting for the particular parts of the country that I visit’.22 All of these sketches and designs would have been left behind in Italy and are now lost. He worked as an architect in his own practice from 1800 to 1803. However, he was also employed by architect John Soane at his practice at Holborn, where he worked as a perspective artist. In his work for John Soane he produced extraordinary perspective drawings of Soane’s designs. Between 1805 and 1838 he was a regular exhibitor at the Royal Academy, displaying his own designs as well as Soane’s. He produced architectural fantasies that were inspired by the historical past. Gandy was clearly inspired by the work of Giovanni Battista Piranesi and the loss of 154 Piranesi prints in Italy would have been considerable to him. In England imaginative drawings were not a novelty. The Royal Academy catalogues show that a common approach to ‘historical’ paintings was chosen from texts of the classics or from Shakespeare or Milton, and this was then developed into a pictorial composition. Gandy’s first architectural fantasies were A Subterranean Temple, and A Tomb as a Beacon, which no longer exist. Phaeton’s Access to the Palace of the Sun, his Father, with a quotation from Ovid followed, and in 1805 Pandemonium, or Part of the High Capital of Satan and his Peers was exhibited,23 a picture that was acquired by the connoisseur and designer Thomas Hope.24 In that same year he also produced two architectural pattern books on rural architecture Designs for Cottages, Cottage Farms and other Rural Buildings25 and Rural Architect.26 These were a world away from his fantasy architecture of the Royal Academy. Gandy attempted to answer the problems that were ravishing the country. The books consist of designs for housing the labouring poor and he also considered a small countryside utopian community. 19 John Summerson, ‘J. M. Gandy: Architectural Draughtsman’, Image (1949); Brian Lukacher, Joseph Gandy: An Architectural Visionary Georgian England (London: Thames and Hudson, 2006); and James Darwin, ‘Order and Disorder’, Building Design 1713 (2006). 20 John Ingamells, ed., A Dictionary of British and Irish Travellers in Italy 1701–1800 (London and New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1997), 388. 21 Ingamells, A Dictionary of British and Irish Travellers in Italy 1701–1800, 387. 22 Gandy as quoted by John Harris and Brian Lukacher, ‘Wizard Genius. J. M. Gandy 1771–1843’, AA Files 4 (1983), 91. 23 John Summerson, ‘Gandy and the Tomb of Merlin’, Architectural Review, April (1941), 89. 24 Brian Lukacher, Joseph Gandy in the Shadow of the Enlightenment (London: Sir John Soane’s Museum, 2002), 5. 25 Joseph Michael Gandy, Designs for Cottages, Cottage Farms and Other Rural Buildings (London, 1805). 26 Joseph Michael Gandy, The Rural Architect (London, 1805).

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

2. Designs for Cottages, Cottage Farms and other Rural Buildings and Rural Architect Gandy’s Designs for Cottages was published in early 1805, and Rural Architect, a continuation of Designs for Cottages, was published six months later that same year. These books consist primarily of designs for rural buildings for the labouring classes of rural England and consist of over 80 architectural designs. There had been a proliferation of architectural pattern books that consisted of complete architectural plans with perspectives, floor plans and sometimes sections and elevations, written for the improvement of rural architecture. These books are divided into two types. The first type contains designs for the country gentlemen or for a small rural retreat for the urban dweller, such as Rural Architecture by Robert Morris, published in 1750.27 This book consists of designs of high-quality dwellings of substantial cost. The second type consisted of designs that were considered ‘picturesque’ village cottages for workers and retreats for gentlemen. This is illustrated by James Malton’s An Essay on British Cottage Architecture, published in 1798. His aim was to perpetuate ‘the peculiar beauty of the British, picturesque, rustic habitations; regarding them: with the country church, as the most pleasing, the most suitable ornament of art that can be introduced to embellish rural nature’.28 The cottages mainly consisted of mock Tudor houses with the emphasis on being aesthetically rustic, rather than the practical. Malton’s Essay reflected designs from an earlier era and mirrored a nostalgic rural village life that no longer existed. This era was still reflected in contemporary engravings, such as Francis Wheatley’s The Industrious Cottager of 1786, which depicts a young woman sitting outside a cottage mending a net with a young boy and dog behind her looking on. It was a nostalgic view of the rustic English countryside with cottage industries, not the brutal reality of the toil and deprivation of the mills and factories. Two of the first serious responses to the housing crisis in rural England were the work of Gandy and John Wood the younger, of Bath. In 1781 Wood had published an architectural pattern book as a solution to the rural housing crisis, A Series of Plans for Cottages or Habitations for the Labourer, with subsequent editions published in 1792, 1806 and 1836. Wood proposed practical cottages from one to four rooms. He considered the ruinous state of the cottages of rural England and observed ‘that these habitations of the most useful and necessary rank of men, the labourers, were become for the most part of offensive both to decency and humanity’.29 Wood did not confine his designs to the habitations of labourers engaged in agriculture, but also considered the workmen and the artificers engaged in the clothing and other manufacturing activities. Through his observations of the English countryside he found the habitations of the country ‘to be shattered, dirty, inconvenient, miserable hovels, scarcely affording shelter for the beasts of the forest; much less with a proper habitation for the human species’.30 His conclusions were that the cottages were wet and damp, cold and cheerless, and unhealthy. To alleviate these conditions he considered seven design principles: 1) the cottages should be dry and healthy; 2) they should be warmed, cheerful and comfortable; 3) they should be convenient; 4) they should not be more than 12 feet wide, being the greatest width the rafters need to be for the roof; 5) cottages should be built in pairs; 6) they should be economical by being strong and built of the best materials; and 7) a piece of ground for a garden should be allotted to the cottage. Wood combined the aesthetics and the practicality of architecture with humanity. His designs were for individual or paired cottages and were extremely practical (see Figure 6.1). The designs of the cottages are plain rectangular boxes, but the proportions and the placement of all the details, such as the chimneys, doors and windows are carefully considered, and the designs can be considered neoclassical. Wood does not consider the layout of a village, only the individual buildings; however, he presented the first practical solutions to the decline in rural dwellings and the conditions of the labouring poor and A Series of Plans for Cottages or Habitations for the Labourer places architecture as a social solution to that decline. 27 Robert Morris, Rural Architecture Consisting of Regular Designs of Plans and Elevations for Buildings in the Country (London, 1750), 109. 28 James Malton, An Essay on British Cottage Architecture (London, 1798), B. 29 John Wood (the Younger), A Series of Plans for Cottages or Habitations of the Labourer Either in Husbandry, or the Mechanic Arts (London, 1806), A. 30 Wood, A Series of Plans for Cottages, 4.

6.1 John Wood’s designs for labourer’s cottages Source: Drawn by Author from Wood 1806.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Gandy’s books are also motivated by humanity and aesthetics. In the former he followed the ideas that were published under the direction of the Board of Agriculture in 1797.31 In his designs his drawings reveal smooth surfaces; but in his text he claimed that the buildings could be executed with pisé-work, walls made of stiff earth or clay rammed in between moulds, as described in the Communications to the Board of Agriculture, ‘with clay, brick-noggings, or rough-cast; the coverings of thatch, stone, slate, or any other materials commonly used; the pillars, in all cases, consists of young trees cut to size and the bark left on’.32 However, his architectural plans reveal designs for sturdier buildings than those indicated by the chosen materials by the Communications to the Board of Agriculture. Gandy pointed out that although the Communications to the Board of Agriculture considered that in the modes of construction and the circumstances of the distribution there should be a balance between the convenience of arrangement and the elegance of the external appearance despite the humility of the cottages. There should be a unity of convenience and taste that had been missing in this particular class of building. With the exception of a few of the nobility and gentry he considered there was little to admire in civic architecture in Great Britain: The towns and villages of England, with a few exceptions, exhibit meanness and filth, with a variety of clumsy and rude forms, which are exceedingly odious to the eye of refine taste, and must give strangers and travellers an unfavourable impression, with respect to this stage of the arts in this country. Our consequence and pride as a nation, call aloud for a redress of this public grievance.33

Gandy railed against what he considered to be the ‘frightful’ architecture of some market towns throughout England and questioned why do they ‘wish to shew all the deformities of the timbers, and exhibit the skeleton of the house?’34 He did not mention any previous works on rural architecture, but he clearly would have condemned Malton’s preference for an architecture which exhibited the ‘skeleton of the buildings’, such as mock Tudor. Yet Malton’s had a similar underlining design principle to Gandy—both promoted asymmetrical designs. For Malton, the guiding principle for those: who are desirous to build picturesque rural dwelling; which is, never to aim at regularity, but to let the outward figure conform only to the internal convenience; and rather to overcharge projected parts than any wise to curtail them; for on a judicious contrast of light and shade, does the picturesque in great measure depend.35

For Gandy regularity or uniformity should be preserved for public buildings, and in particular churches: Uniformity, is conceived, belonging only to the higher classes of architecture; to places dedicated to the service of Deity, in which the rotund has the advantage over every other form: but this uniformity, exhibiting only at dull monotony, is not so suitable for many architectural purposes, as then variety is studied, which is the grand principle of beauty building.36

Simplicity and variety should be considered in all buildings great and small. Gandy claimed that his designs for cottages have been based on this principle of variety; however, those that are uniform can be changed into the picturesque by removing a wing of the building. The converse is also true; a building that is picturesque or irregular can become uniform by selecting a centre and repeating the parts on the other side, ‘if the builder prefers such dull monotony’.37 However, outside of the concept of irregularity the ‘picturesque’ was a very flexible design concept. 31 Board of Agriculture, ed., Communications to the Board of Agriculture on Subjects Relative to the Husbandry, and Internal Improvements of the Country (London, 1797). 32 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, x. 33 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, v. 34 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, iv. 35 Malton, An Essay on British Cottage Architecture, 27. 36 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vii. 37 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, ix.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

Wood took the converse position: ‘although I would by no means have these cottages fine, I recommend regularity, which is beauty; regularity will render them ornaments to the country, instead of being as at present disagreeable objects.’38 To keep this regularity and visual points of interest Wood added a central blind window in his designs for paired cottages so to prevent a void on the central axis (see Figure 6.1). By the turn of the nineteenth century cultural changes had turned from ‘regularity is beauty’ to the ‘picturesque of irregularity’. However, Gandy praised the architecture of Bath and Oxford, particularly the latter, which he considered to be almost sublime. He claimed the variety of classical, elegant and picturesque architecture of Oxford could affect the imagination of the traveller in a pleasing manner and leave an everlasting impression. Although the town planning was irregular, much of the architecture of both Bath and Oxford had a high degree of symmetry. In many ways Gandy’s emphasis on irregularity is not consistent with this observation. He believed that it was important to consider that architecture was not just for the grand and sublime, but more attention should have be paid to the exterior appearance of rural cottages for the labouring poor. The effects to society of these considerations should be seen by ‘moralists and speculative philosophers’.39 Attention to the aesthetic values, neatness and cleanliness assists in forming the disposition of the labouring classes. Gandy quoted from the Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor published in 1802 that stated that anything that promoted industry, prudence, foresight, virtue and cleanliness among the poor was of benefit, not only to the poor individual, but to the nation as a whole. Gandy, who saw aesthetics as being one of the overriding principles of life, claimed that ‘the early habit of contemplating fine forms, produces a correspondence in ideas of beauty, and creates a natural good taste; whilst on the contrary, vulgarity, and lowness of ideas, are acquired, when we are born and educated among objects incapable of exciting the fine impressions’.40 Once an early bias was established in their minds, refined and good taste would be made the workers’ natural taste and this would lead to improvements to country housing. His concepts of beauty and aesthetics were connected to notions of virtue and morality and in this way good architecture was linked to humanitarian reform. Architecture and society were immutably connected and strove for the betterment of the community. Gandy’s Preface is brief and the bulk of the two books are the 85 designs that consist of a floor plan, a perspective, a brief description with measurements and estimated costs. His designs begin with small single labourer’s cottages. These simple cottages consist of one room, 8 × 14 feet, with the recess for a bed and porch and seat under the window. The estimated cost of this cottage was 50 shillings. A one-room family cottage, 7 × 17.6 feet, was estimated to cost 70 shillings. These small colleges are architecturally uninspiring, but extremely practical. It is in the multifunctional cottages that Gandy’s architecture was distinct from other cottage designs. For instance, a labourer’s cottage containing three rooms and the loft in the roof over the bedroom for pigeons was a simple design with a very sparse floor plan (see Figure 6.2). The same applies to a cottage with conveniences for keeping poultry, pigs, and pigeons, with the pigeon house being accessible from the bedroom (see Figure 6.3). These multipurpose cottages combine economy, utility and are distinctive in their design. In his designs he also included gateways. One distinctive design has two cone-shaped buildings that are thatched to the ground, which are lodges. An iron frame supported the thatch and the flue of the chimney was centrally placed. Another double lodge was in the form of pyramids, one on each side of the gate. These designs are reminiscent of Ledoux’s industrial designs, where pyramids are the industrial chimneys. Gandy followed the Palladian tradition in many expects of his designs, and although some of the designs are irregular, the majority of the designs in both his books are symmetrical, with their simple symmetry the strength of the design. His emphasis was on simplicity, elegance and utility. The majority of the designs are for individual buildings. He also produced one design for an ideal village. The village consisted of eight circular buildings surrounding a chapel or parish church (Plates 13 and 14). Each building comprised eight cottages that each contained three rooms: a parlour or workroom, a kitchen, and a bedroom. The cottages were large (Plate 15): the parlour was 12 × 16 feet, the kitchen was 12 × 17 feet, the bedroom 12 feet × 10 feet 6 inches, a courtyard behind the cottage was 7 × 10 feet and at the bottom of the courtyard there was a ‘necessity,’ 38 Wood, A Series of Plans for Cottages, 7. 39 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vi. 40 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vi.

6.2 Gandy’s designs for labourer’s cottage containing three rooms and a loft in the roof over the bedroom for pigeons Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805.

6.3 Gandy’s designs for cottage with conveniences for keeping poultry, pigs, and pigeons with the pigeon house being accessible from the bedroom Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

presumably a washroom, for each cottage, which was 2 feet 6 inches × 4 feet. The cottages were oriented to face the eight winds, as specified by Vitruvius, and above the door of each of the cottages were the initials of the wind that it was oriented to. The village consisted of 64 cottages, and the eight buildings were also oriented to the direction of the winds (see Figures 6.4 and 6.5). At the end of the Preface of Designs for Cottages Gandy stated, ‘Upon the whole, the author’s general aim has been to diffuse a more extended idea of taste, even in the buildings of the lowest class and in every part of the country, that prevail at present;’41 and if Designs for Cottages met with public approbation he would publish a second volume. It was only six months later that Rural Architecture was published.

6.4 Plan of the Village of the Winds Source: Drawn by Author from Gandy 1805. 41 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, x.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Although he claimed the success of the first volume initiated the second volume it is difficult to measure its success, since if any of these buildings were built none of them have survived; however, they were never meant to be enduring. 3. The Political Philosophy In Designs for Cottages and Rural Architecture Gandy referenced two sources, Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor, published in 1802, and Communications to the Board of Agriculture, published in 1797. Both of these works were extremely relevant publications of the day and attempted to address the increasing problems in British society. In 1805, when Gandy was preparing his books, there was no clear or new solution, and a return to the rural society appeared to be the only option. France and Britain were continuously at war from 1793 until the Treaty of Amiens in 1802. However, conflict soon began again with the Napoleonic Wars, from 1803–1815. The British government borrowed heavily to finance the French Wars and this led to a ‘crowding out’ of private investment that limited the country’s capital formation and growth.42 During the French Wars the replacement of the rural proto-industries with urban-based factories significantly increased the population of the towns and cities. Work turned away from the homes into the factories, and the labourer became a consumer instead of a producer. The rents became higher in the cities due to the scarcity of land and the lack of dwelling investment.43 Many supplies from Europe were cut off and prices of agricultural commodities increased considerably, particularly for the four basics: wheat, barley, oats and beans.44 With a sudden reduction in their overseas markets and with the difficulties of getting supplies, many of the urban-based factories reduced their labour force. The population of England and Wales was 5.29 million in 1701, 9.16 million in 180145 and in 1841, 18.1 million.46 With this massive increase in the population, wages declined by 11 per cent from their peak in 1732 to a trough in 1820.47 With a competitive labour force conditions deteriorated for the factory workers and labourers. This rise in the prices of the basic commodities and the declining wages and conditions led to social problems becoming more evident. In an article by Thomas Bernard in Volume 3 of Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor published in 1802, he gave an account of what was being done to prevent scarcity of food and resources. He stated that King George III provided leadership by personally foregoing bread when it could be substituted with potatoes or rice, foods that were more plentiful. So urgent was the situation that both houses of the government had sat every day for seven weeks to devise measures for reducing pressure on the high prices of provisions. Bernard claimed that the government had remitted the salt duties so that fish could be preserved in large quantities and that they were importing corn from America and rice from the Indies to alleviate the problem.48 Bread had become so expensive that even well-off families had reduced their consumption, and Bernard gave an example of Earl of Egremont, who would only allow a small quantity of barley bread at dinner. In his report, Bernard outlined the different societies’ contribution to create a remedy for the shortages. However, he concluded that: 42 Robert A. Black and Claire G. Gilmore, ‘Crowding Out During Britain’s Industrial Revolution’, The Journal of Economic History 50, no. 1 (1990). 43 Jeffrey G. Williamson, Coping with City Growth During the British Industrial Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 184. 44 David S. Jacks, ‘Foreign Wars, Domestic Markets: England, 1793–1815’, European Review of Economic History 15 (2011), 278. 45 Roderick Floud and David McCloskey, The Economic History of Britain since 1700 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 28 and Table 2.1. 46 Andrew Ballantyne, ‘Joseph Gandy and the Politics of Rustic Charm’, in Articulating British Classicism: New Approaches to Eigteenth Century Architecture, ed. Barbara Arciszewska and Elizabeth McKellar (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004), 172. 47 Floud and McCloskey, The Economic History of Britain since 1700, 28 and Table 2.1. 48 Thomas Bernard, ‘Extract from an Account of What Is Doing, to Prevent Scarcity, and We Store Plenty in This Country’, in Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor, ed. Thomas Bernard (London: 1802), 67–68.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

means of subsistence are inadequate to the population of the country and that no theoretical regulations, no attempts at compulsory prices, no imaginary and impossible system of equality, no licence of wages, nor any accumulation of poor’s rates to any extent,—nothing, in short but increase of food, or improved economy and management in the use of it can supply the deficiency, will remedy the evil.49

Bernard suggested to the landowners a less wasteful application of the land by increasing the farming of corn and potatoes in preference to fattening animals. He also promoted a return to the labourer and cottager producing their own food, rather than being consumers of food. He claimed that the factories were irksome and unhealthy, that they were ‘so unnatural to man, that they never thrive, except when the individual works for his own benefit’.50 He endorsed the return of the proto-industries. Gandy quoted directly from Bernard’s introduction: whatever encourages and promotes habits of industry, prudence, foresight, virtue, and cleanliness amongst the poor, is beneficial to them and to the country:—whatever removes or diminishes, the incitement to any of these qualities, is detrimental to the state, and pernicious to the individual.51

The Board of Agriculture was founded in 1793 and was overseen by John Sinclair, who was appointed by the Prime Minister William Pitt.52 The aim of the Board was to publish an agricultural survey of Britain, to consider the mineral resources and the riches to be derived from the streams, rivers and canals; and: to make either an individual or a nation happy, and for carrying National facility to the extent of which it is capable, it is necessary to acquire into the circumstances of the people, and the means of promoting their improvement, in regard to their health, the industry, and their morals.53

Its establishment was to address a perceived neglect of agriculture by the government over their attention to trade and commercial industry, and to address current issues affecting agricultural and the country.54 Volume 1 of Communications to the Board of Agriculture is divided into two sections; the first, ‘On Farm Buildings’, consists of discussions on the orientation and best practices, as well as architectural plans, sections and estimations for farm buildings, that are directed towards the landowner. The second, ‘On Cottages’ consists of seven letters or reports on the best way to build cottages and to enhance their benefit to both landowner and cottagers. In ‘On Cottages’ the seven letters or reports also continue the basic theme of returning the land to cottagers. They are from landowners, an architect and a land surveyor. At the time of this publication the Enclosure Consolidation Act was being introduced into the House of Commons, under the auspices of the Board of Agriculture. At the time it was strongly believed that it was going to be a beneficial bill that could not fail. It was expected that the necessary consequence of the Bill would be that many small dwellings would be built to suit the small estates that would be created by this Act.55 The best designs were considered to be those that would be suitable for the cottager, but at the same time inexpensive and beneficial to the landlord. The main benefit of this housing was to have a ready and available labour force for the landowner. The small plot of land around the house could subsidise the cottagers’ employment when not needed by the landowner by keeping their own small farm or industry.56 The land surveyors A. Cocker and Son submitted three plans 49 Bernard, ‘Extract’, 77. 50 Bernard, ‘Extract’, 80. 51 Bernard, ‘Introduction Letter’, in Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor, ed. Thomas Bernard (London, 1802), 10; and Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vi. 52 Lukacher, Joseph Gandy, 47. 53 Great Britain Ministy of Agriculture Fisheries and Food, Communications to the Board of Agriculture, on Subjects Relevant to the Host Country and Internal Improvements of the Country (London, 1797), lxxxi. 54 Great Britain Ministy of Agriculture Fisheries and Food, Communications, xvii. 55 A. Crocker, ‘On Cottages’, in Communications to the Board of Agriculture on Subjects Relative to the Husbandry, and Internal Improvements of the Country, ed. Board of Agriculture (London, 1797), 114. 56 Earl of Winchilsea, ‘Letter from the Earl of Winchilsea, to the President of the Board of Agriculture, on the Advantages of Cottagers Renting Land’.

6.5 Land surveyors A. Cocker and Son’s plans for cottages Source: Drawn by Author from Board of Agriculture 1797.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

(see Figure 6.5) of various building techniques. The report then outlined John Wood’s seven principles for the building of cottages. The architect Henry Holland supplied a plan of paired dwellings, but recommended the use of cheap materials, such as mud brick, polls of unsealed timber and pisé-work, the materials that Gandy quoted. The landlord’s reports and letters discuss housing and maintenance. Each presenting their own designs, some of the designs and farming advice were acknowledged as coming from Hints to Gentleman of the Landed Property by Nathaniel Kent, who stated that: Estates being of no value without hands to cultivate them, the labourer is one of the most valuable members of society; without him the richest soil is not worth owning. His situation then should be considered and made at the least comfortable, if it were merely out of good policy.57

Kent praised the indisputable benefit of the cottager to the landlord and argued that the shattered hovels that the poor are forced to live in: is truly affecting to our heart fraught with humanity … We are all careful of our horses, nay of our dogs, which are less valuable animals; we bestow considerable attention from our stables and kennels, but we are apt to look upon cottages as encumbrances, and clogs all our property; when, the fact, those who occupy them either very nerves and sinews of agriculture … They are the greatest support to the estate, as being the most prolific candles of population.58

He denigrated the great industrial towns as being destructive to both morals and health, and considered that the growth in these towns was detrimental to the nation. It was the country, cottagers, and small farms that should support the population, not the industrial towns. Both the Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor and Communications to the Board of Agriculture are individual pamphlets, letters and reports, while Kent and Wood produced a body of social commentary and design. These four sources all promote a return to the country as the only solution to the nation’s problems. Gandy considered these recommendations, but produced a unique architectural solution for the time. However, his motivation for producing this architectural solution may have been stimulated by more than these four sources. When Gandy was in Rome his circle of friends included the artists George Wallis, William Artlaud and William Ottley, all of whom were known for their freethinking republican opinions. Wallis, a landscape painter and Gandy’s companion on sketching excursions into the Campagna, was rumoured to have been a Jacobean spy. Meanwhile, his father, according to Brian Lukacher, a biographer of Gandy, was a closet radical at White’s Club and he ‘encouraged him [Gandy] to flee to France to design monuments for “those victorious Republicans.”’59 That Gandy had held radical social reform opinions is supported by his employment60 by political reformer Major John Cartwright,61 a tireless spokesman for election reform and the enfranchisement of the working classes during the Napoleonic period. Cartwright employed Gandy in 1800 to render a set of drawings of a gigantic naval monument to the glorious dead, to be called a ‘Hieronauticon or Naval Temple’.62 To Gandy, architecture was an instrument of reform, both physically, as it led to better and healthier living conditions, and socially, as an improvement in the aesthetic environment that led to a more enlightened labouring class. Through this improved environment it would produce a correspondence in the ideas of beauty and the labourers would reject vulgarity and lowness of ideas.63 Gandy’s sources emphasised the importance of the labourer’s cottages as a benefit to the landlord, and although aimed at the benevolent landlord, nevertheless, the 57 Nathaniel Kent, Hints to Gentleman of the Landed Property (London, 1775), 228. 58 Kent, Hints to Gentleman, 230. 59 Lukacher, Joseph Gandy in the Shadow of the Enlightenment, 7. 60 Lukacher, Joseph Gandy, 8. 61 John Cartwright, A Memoir of John or Cartwright the Reformer: With a Likeness of That Honest and Consistent Patriot (London, 1831). 62 Frances Dorothy Cartwright, The Life and Correspondence of Major Cartwright (London: Henry Colburn, 1826), 288. 63 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vi.

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

emphasis was on the profit to the landlord; while Gandy emphasised the benefits of aesthetics and effectiveness of design to the rural community. Most of his designs were highly symmetrical, despite his protestations that symmetry was dull and monotonous. Like Boullée and Ledoux, he used geometrical rationalism to express aesthetics and political philosophy—the Village of the Winds epitomises this combination. Gandy based his design for both the houses and village on Vitruvius’s ideal city, as described in Book 1, Chapter VI of De Architectura. This classical symmetry used by Vitruvius was an aesthetic and a cosmic principle that had permeated from Platonic and Pythagorean cosmic harmony.64 However, it also had a practical orientation for a city or town in Italy, since Vitruvius stated that the streets arranged in line with an octagon: the disagreeable force of the winds will be shut out from the dwellings and the lines of houses. For if the streets run for in the face of the winds, their constant blasts rushes in from the open country, and they [are] confined by narrow alleys, will sweep through them with great violence. The lines of houses must therefore be directed away from the quarters from which the winds blow, so that as they come in they may strike against the angles of the blocks and their force thus be broken and dispersed.65

The strict geometry of the village was also in contrast to Gandy’s assertions that such uniformity was for higher classes of architecture. Gandy claimed that the rotunda was the ideal form for religious architecture,66 yet in this village not only are the buildings rotunda, the shape of the village is also rotunda. The design of the Village of the Winds, although steeped in classical allusions, was revolutionary. The design of the buildings was a complete breakaway from the ‘picturesque’ of his day and adds classical allusions to the ideal village. There appears to be a strong influence of the French utopian architects’ rational geometry; however, there is a distinct difference in style and scale. Both Boullée and Ledoux’s projects were grand and expensive constructions; while Gandy’s village was built to a more human scale and was intended to be an inexpensive construction, yet this village holds the same ideals. Gandy followed many of the construction methods recommended by Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor and Communications to the Board of Agriculture and commended them as ‘intelligent communications on the subject of cottages and farm buildings’,67 and he also confirmed the need for an improvement in the conditions of the labouring poor as a national objective. For Gandy, true reform required not only improved conditions of the labouring poor but also to unite convenience of housing with an aesthetic that would change the opinions and attitudes of the lower classes. This visual aesthetic formed and developed the mind. Although this is a principal that was established by John Locke in the seventeenth century, it nonetheless remained a radical idea in the early nineteenth century. For Gandy, the created environment could change the opinions and ideas of the otherwise uneducated labourer, and this environment was created through architecture. In two letters published in 1821 both entitled ‘On the Philosophy of Architecture’, Gandy stated that architecture was artificial and not derived from nature and ‘that all ornaments in architecture are derived from intellectual sources, and represent certain ideas in an emblematical form’.68 To Gandy, the Village of the Winds was emblematical of both social and aesthetic reform, and both were required to achieve the important national objective to relieve the suffering of the labouring classes. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Despite the support that Gandy claimed to have received for his first volume, Designs for Cottages, and that inspired the second volume, Rural Architecture, none of that support has survived in any written record. 64 Alexandros Lagopoulos, ‘The Semiotics of the Vitruvian City’, Semiotica 175 (2009), 203. 65 Vitruvius, The Ten Books on Architecture, trans. Morris Hicky Morgan (New York: Dover Publications, 1960), I, vi, 8. 66 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, vii. 67 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, iii. 68 Joseph Michael Gandy, ‘On the Philosophy of Architecture’, The Magazine of Fine Arts 1 (1821), 371.

Joseph Michael Gandy—An Agricultural Village

However, his designs did received criticism on the aesthetic, originality and practical levels. Contemporary critics claimed that so many books had been published on rural architecture, and in fact most of these were not on workers’ cottages and that if the designer was determined to produce something new they: must be content to commute propriety for singularity, and simplicity for extravagance. This is what Mr Gandy has done. In a wild pursuit of novelty, he has adopted a style of frigid extravagance, disregarding the requisites of climate, manners, and convenience, and with a singular dereliction, or rather inversion, of usual proportions.69

The author goes on to be critical of the: picturesque style, that enemy of regularity and symmetry … picturesque architect, unfettered by rules, with great variant of form waiting his selection, can surely fill one of these restraints. Mr Gandy, however, a pupil of the school, seems as much embarrassed by his whimsical elevations, as by the most rigid symmetry, and has neglected to a strange excess, the adaption of his plans to domestic convenience … generally speaking, the author has fairly merited our censure.70

In the twentieth century Emil Kaufmann was particularly scathing. He claimed that Gandy was in no way an original thinker, that Gandy was ‘more of a henchman of the Modernists of his day’.71 He dismissed Gandy’s designs as being dull and insignificant, and accused Gandy of emulating the schemes of the French architects in miniature and reserves particular criticism for the Villages of the Winds. The odd form of circular rooms was no new experiment when Gandy designed them. These may be impressive in large buildings; [but] they are neither affective nor practical in small ones. Several projects make it likely that he mimicked the French avant-garde, for instance in the cottage of the winds each of which is designed on a circular plan.72

However, the cottages and Village of the Winds are unlike any of the French avant-garde designs. There is no doubt there was some influence of Ledoux’s L’Architecture, published in 1804, which Gandy had access to via a copy kept in Soane’s library.73 There is visible influence of this, particularly demonstrated in some of his gate designs. Although the Village of the Winds was designed on traditional architectural principles of the Vitruvian ideal city, it was not grand in either its design or scale, and the village blends into the landscape and consists of simple buildings with sparse, but carefully placed, architectural features. In fact, there are no shared features with the exception of symmetry, but in the concept of the ideal city this harks back to Plato and is not unique to the French avant-garde. John Summerson referred to some of Gandy’s projects as ‘strange’ and ‘sinister’.74 He claimed that Gandy had removed from his designs every conventional detail and column. When these conventional details do appear they are prototypical, and his timber columns appear to emulate the ancient origins of the classical orders. When describing the variation of the styles in the architecture of Oxford and Bath, Gandy claimed that the architecture ‘affect the imagination of the traveller in a very forcible and pleasing manner, like the imagery of the poet’.75 Summerson claimed that Gandy was a frustrated William Wordsworth, but he described Gandy’s buildings as having an ‘uncouth disposition of doors and windows and the grotesque acceptance of the lean-to, the coarsely projecting eaves and the squat chimneys’.76 This was not the 69 Anonymous, ‘Architecure and the Fine Arts’, Annual Review and History of Literature 4 (1806), 890. 70 Anonymous, ‘Architecure and the Fine Arts’, 891. 71 Emil Kaufmann, Architecture in the Age of Reason: Baroque and Post-Baroque in England, Italy, and France (Hamden, Connecticut: Archon Books, 1966), 65. 72 Kaufmann, Architecture in the Age of Reason, 66. 73 Lukacher, Joseph Gandy, 53. 74 John Summerson, ‘The Strange Case of J. M. Gandy’, Architecture and Building News 10 (1936), 44. 75 Gandy, Designs for Cottages, v. 76 John Summerson, Heavenly Mansions and Other Essays on Architecture (New York: W. W. Norton and Company Inc, 1963), 122.

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6.6 Elevation of the Village of the Winds Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Gandy 1805.

English cottage architecture of the early nineteenth century. ‘Gandy must certainly be credited with having attempted a glimpse of something quite outside the world of architecture as he knew it’.77 Brian Lukacher claimed that the Village of the Winds was his most problematic design and believed that the cottages would have been ‘poorly lit, vertiginously confining, and downright insalubrious’.78 Yet this cottage design is significantly larger than any other of the cottages, the prospective inhabitants were labourers, and there is no reason to think that they caused dizziness or would be unhealthy, or at least any more unhealthy than any other design in Gandy’s or any of the other eighteenth and nineteenth century pattern books. His, and others, cottages for a labouring family averaged 123 square feet, while the cottages of the Village of the Winds are 231 square feet. Despite this criticism, Designs for Cottages and Rural Architecture have been seen as landmarks that were prophetic for modern architecture in both design and superstructure. For example, with the use of an iron frame Gandy anticipated the low hanging roofs of Frank Lloyd Wright, and he foreshadowed of the International Style in the horizontal windows and their groupings that harmonised with the horizontality of the buildings.79 He sought a structural purism with greater utility by simplifying the design without sacrificing elegance. Although he recommended simple and cheap materials in line with the recommendations in Communications to the Board of Agriculture, his illustrations do not reflect the use of these materials in the overall aesthetics of the design; for example, the columns are meant to be tree trunks with the bark left on them, yet the images show smooth surfaces and a small capital. In the reconstruction (see Plates 13, 14 and 15) the material that is specified in the text is used, but with the smooth surface seen in his illustrations. For the circular residential buildings the columns are timber, the surfaces of the building are pisé-work and the roofing slate, since the angle of the roof is too low for a thatched roof. The centralised church is constructed of similar materials, except that terracotta roof tiles are used for the roof. 5. Conclusion Gandy is best known for his architectural fantasies, which have been described as ‘golden splendour and fantastic architecture—[his architecture] was visionary and remains among the supreme statements of the sublime created in eighteenth and nineteenth century England’.80 His images depict the world of ethereal beauty where ugliness and poverty do not exist. Gandy had fallen under the spell of Piranesi’s 77 Summerson, Heavenly Mansions, 123. 78 Lukacher, Joseph Gandy, 52. 79 Dimitri Tselos, ‘Joseph Gandy: Prophet of Modern Architecture’, Magazine of Art 34 (1941), 281. 80 Jas Elsner, ‘Picturesque and Sublime: Impacts of Pausanias in Late-Eighteenth and Early-Nineteenth Century Britain’, Classical Receptions Journal 2, no. 2 (2010).

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architectural visions in Italy. However, his architectural fantasies, although influenced by Piranesi, were very much his own. 81 Given the grandeur of Gandy’s architectural fantasies it is somewhat ironic that he produced very little architecture in his lifetime, and most of it was small-scale.82 Towards the end of his life Gandy wanted to establish that his pictorial architecture was not just fantasy, and that the images should be received as architectural paradigms that were of historical and philosophical instruction. In 1836, he announced his intention of executing 1,000 drawings that would protect the history of architecture—the project was entitled Comparative Architecture. Unfortunately, only five drawings were executed before his premature death in 1843.83 In this project, his insistence that architecture was a natural invention had changed in his articles. In ‘On the Philosophy of Architecture’ he had claimed that any comparison of architecture to animal habits or features of the landscape were a ‘poetical imagination’.84 However, Gandy considerably changed his mind and revised many of his ideas on the prototypes of architecture in an unpublished manuscript entitled The Art, Philosophy and Science of Architecture85 that was begun circa 1826. In this manuscript, which consists of seven volumes and is over two and a half thousand pages long, he emphasised a mimic theory of architecture: mankind imitated architecture from nature. He surveyed the history of architecture, beginning with Noah’s Ark, which resembled a cavern on a pyramid mount. Nature’s architectonics anticipated human invention.86 Gandy’s architectural theory stemmed from the earth’s natural history, and the ethereal quality of his architectural fantasies became embodied in his architectural theory. Yet, in the section on rural architecture for the poor in this manuscript his discussion was very utilitarian. He claimed that because of the nature of the materials used for the construction of these buildings they should be considered only temporary dwellings. Gandy stated that the: cheapest and most common to all country are the cob and píse walls with a thatch roof, but the walls often want repairing and thatch harbours birds and vermin. Rubble stone flints and slate is the best for walls and roofs and the walls may be covered with a coat of plaster to keep out cold winds give them neatness … a cottage shall be in a dry open healthy place a low situation is preferred with a fall from the building. It shall be cool in summer and warmer in winter. The entrance screened by a porch or shed for tools and should have their light from the SW to the East, and should not be more than 12 feet within the clearing. If wider [it] becomes a tradesman cottage, cottages should have an dormer windows, they should be built in pairs or should be a part to each other, they ought to be built strong of the best material.87 81 Lyall Sutherland, ‘Gandy at the Apoclypse’, Building Design 617 (1982). 82 Ian Goodall and Margaret Richardson, ‘A Recently Discovered Gandy Sketchbook’, Architectural History 44 (2001); and Harris and Lukacher, ‘Wizard Genius. J. M. Gandy 1771–1843’, 91. 83 Brian Lukacher, ‘Joseph Gandy and the Mythography of Architecture’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 53, no. 3 (1994), 281. 84 Gandy, ‘On the Philosophy of Architecture’, 292 85 Joseph Michael Gandy, Incomplete Manuscript of an Unpublished Treatise on Architecture (the Art, Philosophy and Science of Architecture) (London: RIBA Drawings and Archives Collection, Victoria and Albert Museum, c. 1826). 86 Lukacher, ‘Joseph Gandy and the Mythography of Architecture’, 79. 87 Gandy, Incomplete Manuscript, 1929–30.

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Much of his description is reminiscent of Wood’s work. However, he goes on to outline six classes of material with which these cottages can be built: 1) walls of mud; 2) stone footings with timber frame built with mire and straw; 3) rubble or slate walls stuccoed over; 4) pise or earth mud walls and thatch; 5) built fully of stone and 6) brick. Gandy acknowledged that the cost of the construction would be the deciding factor and that the landlord should consider the local materials for that particular county. For example, ‘for Buckinghamshire the landlord should consider flint walls may be made in the South, and common sand is found in the North, birch wood and roofing of thatch’.88 When Gandy was preparing his two books on rural architecture he was already established as a ‘celebrated architect’ through his architectural fantasies exhibited at the Royal Academy. However, Gandy’s two books were very different to his architectural fantasies—in them he was attempting to address a national crisis in a realistic and practical manner and in accordance with the social reform literature of the day. The Reports of the Society of Bettering the Conditions of the Poor and Communications to the Board of Agriculture, and Kent and Wood, who Gandy would have been well aware of through the former two books, believed that the solution to this national crisis was a return of the cottagers to the country both as labourers and in protoindustries. Gandy designed buildings and the ideal village to satisfy this solution with an architecture that was not recognised to be revolutionary until the 1930s.89 The hopes of retaining the traditional agrarian society of Britain continued. However, industrialisation, the continued increase in the population and urbanisation made this solution of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries impossible. The problem continued to deepen, dividing the nation, but social reformers continued to propose what appeared to be, particularly in the depth of the Industrial Revolution, utopian solutions.

88 Gandy, Incomplete Manuscript, 1931. 89 Tselos, ‘Joseph Gandy: Prophet of Modern Architecture’.

Chapter 7

Robert Owen—Villages of Unity and Cooperation

1. Background Although the return of the agricultural labourer and proto-industries to the country did not occur, villages were beginning to be built by the mill owners. The early mills from the mid-eighteenth century were powered by water, so were dependent upon creeks, rivers or waterfalls. Consequently, many of these mills were built away from existing towns or villages. Early in the Industrial Revolution it was difficult to attract workers to the mills. The working hours and the conditions were unattractive to agricultural labourers and proto-industry cottagers, who had been able to specify their hours of labour or take days off if they desired, and generally controlled their own fate.1 However, in the mills they worked in injurious conditions, working 14-hour days for six days a week. In 1783, Thomas Evans established a paper and cotton mill at Darley Abbey, one mile north of Derby. In order to attract workers to the area Evans provided well-built housing, wages that were above those of the agricultural labourer, and medical and educational facilities. In 1788, there were 47 houses and the census returns show a steady increase in the size of the town: in 1801 there were 92 houses; in 1811 there were 116 houses, and by 1831 there were 172 houses. From the beginning of the town’s creation the Evans family maintained a paternalistic attitude towards their employees and assumed responsibility for their welfare. A substantial number of the records of the development of the mill, its expenses, and the punishment of workers for indiscretions still exist.2 Towns similar to Darley Abbey began to spring up around the countryside near the waterways. Unfortunately, much of the documentation for these towns has not survived, and in some cases the towns no longer survive and even their urban layout has been forgotten.3 In 1784, New Lanark Mills was established by David Dale in South Lanarkshire Valley, southern Scotland, close to the Falls of Clyde, which supplied the power for the mills.4 In this isolated location acquiring labour was an extremely difficult process, and in the 1780s they attracted labourers who had difficulty in obtaining employment elsewhere. To make up the scarcity of labourers Dale applied to the superintendents of the parish poor in the most populous towns, such as Glasgow, to send him children, but at a very early age. Around one-third of Dale’s workforce was pauper apprentices. Dale was known as a man of eminent philanthropy, and it is claimed that he had the happiness of these children much at heart.5 He also employed highlanders who had been victims of the land clearances and enclosures. When one of the mills burnt down in 1788,6 he continued to pay the wages of the labourers while the mill was being rebuilt. Dale also established schools for the children at his own expense and was considered to be an enlightened and benevolent employer.7 As the proto-industries began to disappear and the enclosure movement continued to force villagers away from the land, cottagers were forced to seek other employment and the mills were one of the few employment alternatives for them to turn to. This, combined with the increasing population, resolved any employment 1 George Douglas Howard Cole, The Life of Robert Owen (London: Frank Cass and Co Ltd, 1965), 92. 2 Jean Lindsay, ‘An Early Industrial Community—the Evans’ Cotton Mill at Darley Abbey Derbyshire, 1783– 1810’, The Business History Review 34, no. 3 (1960). 3 William Harvey Pierson, ‘Notes on Early Industrial Architecture in England’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 8, no. 1 (1949). 4 Ian Donnachie and George Hewitt, Historic New Lanark: The Dale and Owen Industrial Community since 1785 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1993). 5 Anonymous, ‘Important Reformation Effected in the Moral Habits of the Workmen at the Lanark Mills’, The Belfast Monthly Magazine 10, no. 58 (1813), 364; and Robert Owen, A New Society and Other Writings, ed. Gregory Claeys (London: Penguin, 1991), 31. 6 Donnachie and Hewitt, Historic New Lanark, 25. 7 A. J. Robinson, ‘Robert Owen, Cotton Spinner: New Lanark, 1800–1825’, in Robert Owen: Prophet of Poor, ed. Sidney Pollard and John Salt (London: Macmillan Press, 1971), 151.

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problems for the mill owners, but unemployment began to rise. However, mill production was not always constant, with fluctuations in markets due to weather, disruptions in trade, government policy and wars.8 Between 1793 and 1815 the employment market was unstable. The French Wars blocked various markets and caused food prices to rise; on the other hand, supplying the army increased production in particular industries. However, there were also other factors that caused disruption and uncertainty. The Americans imposed a cotton embargo in 1806 that significantly elevated the price of cotton and many of the mills closed for the four-month duration of the embargo to wait for it to end and the lowering of cotton prices.9 Nevertheless, the manufacturing industries continued to grow and develop, and this expanded the urban areas of the cities, creating large slums on their fringes; they also produced considerable profits for the factory owners. At the same time the poverty of the labouring classes continued to increase and showed no sign of slowing. There had been protests from the enclosure movement and major outbreaks of food riots in 1739–40, 1756–57, 1766–68, 1772–73, 1783–84, 1794–96, 1800–01, 1810–13 and 1816–18.10 With the increase of industrialisation and urbanisation the machines were seen to be the cause of the continuing unemployment, poor working conditions and increasing poverty. Industrial protest broke out; these protests were examples of direct action and industrial sabotage that framed a new word in the English language—Ludditism. The first direct action of the Luddite movement broke out in 1811, and these types of actions continued for five years in Nottingham, Leicestershire and South Derbyshire, the West Riding of Yorkshire and parts of Lancaster and Cheshire in the north-west.11 Machine breaking in some form was the main attack. In 1812, it is estimated that at least 1,000 looms were smashed and 21 factories attacked in East Lancaster alone.12 The extent of the Luddites as an organisation is disputed by many historians, but as pressure on the government for political reform increased the attacks on machines slowly reduced. However, it is impossible to separate the concept of industrial change and the apocalyptic fear in the early nineteenth century in England. This is epitomised in William Blake’s section of a poem originally in Milton and published in 1808, his famous lyrics now best known as the hymn ‘Jerusalem’: And did these feet in ancient time, Walk upon England’s mountains green: And was the holy lamb of God, On England’s pleasant pastures seen! And did the countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem built here, Among these dark Satanic mills.13

The poet wished for a transformation from a dark Satanic mills to Utopia—the New Jerusalem. However, the factory owners resisted any intervention and at the beginning of the nineteenth century had a relatively free hand in determining the living and working conditions in and around their mills. In 1800, self-made industrialist Robert Owen formed a partnership with the Chorlton Twist Company to purchase New Lanark from the elderly David Dale. Owen was a minor partner, with one-ninth of an interest in the partnership, and after a few months of this new partnership he became the sole manager of New Lanark, with a stipend of £1,000 per annum.14 When Owen became manager of the mill the total population of the 8 David S. Jacks, ‘Foreign Wars, Domestic Markets: England, 1793–1815’, European Review of Economic History 15 (2011). 9 Michael M. Edwards, The Growth of the British Cotton Trade, 1780–1815 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1967), 111. 10 John E. Archer, Social Unrest and Popular Protest in England, 1780–1840 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 28. 11 Archer, Social Unrest, 48. 12 Archer, Social Unrest, 48. 13 William Blake, Jerusalem, ed. Morton. D. Paley and David Bindman (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1997). 14 Robert Owen, The Life of Robert: Written by Himself (London, 1857), 78.

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village of New Lanark was 1,519, and 1,334 of these villagers worked in the mills.15 The 500 parish children that lived and worked at the mill were aged from five to ten although their official ages were given as seven to 12.16 They worked 13 hour days with one and a quarter hours allowed for meals. The education that they received was rudimentary religion, reading and some writing. This education took place at the end of a very long day. According to Owen the children were well provided for and they had spacious, clean, and well ventilated accommodation, and their food was ample and of the best quality.17 However, Owen came to the conclusion that no amount of kindness, good accommodation and food or elementary education could make up for the long hours and in some cases physical disabilities that the work inflicted upon these children.18 He therefore decided to engage no more paupers as apprentices and to dispense with the existing indentures as they ran out.19 Owen planned fundamental changes to the village, both in the work practices and in the education of the children and workers. He began to form principles of education and society that he outlined in his publications The Statement Concerning the New Lanark Establishment published in 1812 and the New View of Society, first published as Essays on the Foundation of the Character in 1813, which consisted of two essays, and the completed version, consisting of four essays, in 1817. The keystone to his philosophy was the education system. The principle behind Owen’s education system was that education was a means to the formation of character and the possession of happiness. Character can be given not just to the individual, but to any community. He claimed that children ‘may be formed collectively into any human character’.20 Owen strongly believed that the character of man was made for him by education and training, and not by environment alone. His mantra was ‘that human character is formed for, and not by, the individual’.21 David Dale had been very popular in New Lanark and in the beginning Owen, as a ‘foreigner’ from Wales working for an English company, was mistrusted. Owen implemented many changes to enhance performance, and he had supervisors classify the work performance of the workers with coloured blocks that were known as ‘silent monitors’.22 The blocks of wood were painted with different colours that signified a level of accomplishment. Owen argued that these rankings of work performances instilled pride and encouraged healthy competition. He was the first to provide pensions, sick pay, accident benefits and recreational and sport facilities.23 The various shops that were in New Lanark before Owen arrived sold poor food and cheap alcohol at high prices, and they were closed and replaced by community stores that sold inexpensive, good quality food and high-quality whiskey. He also wished to improve housing, as most families only had one room for the entire family, and he systematically replaced one-room apartments with two-room apartments. The centrepiece of his improvements was the school, or as he called it, an ‘Institute for the Formation of Character’. The community was slow to trust him, but as the improvements to the village of New Lanark became visible and their houses became more comfortable their prejudice against this ‘foreigner’ began to soften. Any remaining doubts of Owen’s good intentions dissipated in the community when the American embargo was in force in 1806 and the New Lanark Mills closed for four months. Instead of laying off the workforce, Owen continued to pay his workforce for the full duration of the closure, which cost the company £7,000 for the time of unemployment.24 New Lanark was perceived as a model industrial village. Owen implemented an education system that was always the centre of controversy as well as a place of pilgrimage. Thousands of visitors every year 15 Donnachie and Hewitt, Historic New Lanark. 16 Owen, The Life of Robert, 60. 17 Owen, A New View of Society, 31. 18 Robert Owen, ‘On the Employment of Children in Manufacturies’, in A New View of Society and Other Writings, ed. George Douglas Howard Cole (London: J. M. Dent and Sons Ltd, 1949). 19 Owen, The Life of Robert, 61. 20 Owen, A New View of Society, 12. 21 Owen, ‘A Further Development of the Plan for the Relief of Manufacturing and Labouring Poor’, in A New Society and Other Writings, ed. Gregory Claeys (London: Penguin, 1991), 140. 22 Robinson, ‘Robert Owen, Cotton Spinner: New Lanark, 1800–1825’, 151. 23 Tibor Iván Berend, An Economic History of Nineteenth-Century Europe: Diversity and Industrialisation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 169. 24 Owen, The Life of Robert, 64.

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flocked to see the success of New Lanark as an ideal industrial village and a successful commercial enterprise. Many of the visitors were extremely distinguished, including Grand Duke Nicholas, who later became the Czar of Russia. He was reported to be impressed with what he saw at New Lanark, and attempted to induce Owen to follow him to Russia.25 In 1815, the French Wars were over and the strain of the financial war debt on the country was severe. Despite this, British trade had enormous supremacy in the markets of the world. ‘The “nation of shopkeepers” did indeed fight Napoleon out of this with the mounting profits of the new industrialism’.26 There was a very prosperous middle class, but the labouring classes did not share in this prosperity. With the return of the soldiers from the foreign wars and the ever-increasing population due to the falling death rate, poverty continued to be a national crisis.27 When the international markets reopened after the war there was an expectation that there would be a surge in prices and demand. Owen claimed that: what was called the revulsion of war to peace had created a universal distress among the producers in the British Isles. Barns and farmyards were full, and warehouses were weighed down with all manner of productions, and prices fell much below the cost at which the articles could be produced. Farm servants were dismissed, and no employment could be found for them and obliged to discharge their hands by the hundreds, and in many cases to stop their works altogether. The distress among all working people became so great, that the upper and wealthy classes became alarmed, foreseeing that the support of the hundreds of thousands unemployed, if this state of things continued, must ultimately fall upon them.28

The war had become profitable for many farmers, manufacturers and other producers of wealth, and at the end of the war the rise of machine production had reduced the need for human labour. However, the extent of the crisis was changing public opinion and there were public calls for reform. Owen had actively fought for factory reform, but the government and the manufacturing industries had diluted any proposed reform to being relatively ineffectual.29 Alternative solutions to the crisis were being sought, and committees investigated and reviewed possible solutions to this crisis. As a successful manufacturer, in 1817 Owen was asked by the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor to give his views of the causes of the distress. From this point, Owen turned his energies away from factory reform, where he had had very little success, into what he perceived to be practical solution to the crisis—Villages of Unity and Cooperation. 2. Report to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor and the development of designs for Villages of Unity and Cooperation Owen reported to the committee not only his views on the cause of the national distress, but he also promoted what he perceived to be a practical solution that would relieve this national distress. Report to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor, published in 1817, was the first of many writings on Villages of Unity and Cooperation throughout Owen’s life. However, although there were changes in details, the fundamental concept of these villages remained the same. In his report he produced an economic plan for a community and a sketch and description of the ideal design that would enhance not only the standard of life for the inhabitants, but would also be conducive to their education, health, and the production of agricultural and manufacturing goods. The design of this village was later modified by Owen’s architect Thomas Stedman Whitwell in 1824 and published in 1830. Owen believed that the immediate cause of the national human crisis was a depreciation of human labour. The mechanical improvements not only increased individual wealth but also stimulated further inventions. 25 William Lucas Sargant, Robert Owen and His Social Philosophy (London: Smith, Elder and Co, 1860), 83. 26 Cole, The Life of Robert Owen, 170. 27 Jeffrey G. Williamson, Coping with City Growth During the British Industrial Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); see Figure A2.1 for a graph trends in death rates in industrial cities, 55. 28 Owen, The Life of Robert, 121. 29 For a summary of Owen’s attempt at factory reform see Cole, The Life of Robert Owen, 147–169.

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This individual wealth also advanced national prosperity. Throughout the years of war there was a great demand for various products, which had strained British manufacturing. However, with the aid of machinery they could invent more economical ways of bringing production into action. With the end of the war this new manufacturing power could safely be said to have exceeded: the labour of one hundred millions of the most industrialists human beings, in the full strength of manhood. (To give an example of this power, there is machinery at work in one establishment in this country, aided by a population not exceeding 2,500 souls, which produces as much as the existing population of Scotland could manufacture after the mode in common practice 50 years ago! And Great Britain contains several such establishments!)30

With the decrease in demand for commodities after 1815 it soon became evident that mechanical power was much cheaper than human labour. Human labour was obtained for a price far less than was necessary for subsistence of the individual in modest comfort. Human labour, previously the great source of wealth for nations, was diminishing value at a rate of two to three million pounds sterling per week in Britain alone. Farmers, tradesmen, manufacturers and merchants had been greatly impoverished by a downturn in the economy, which caused great distress and extreme poverty among the labouring classes. Owen stated that the working class had no accurate means of competing with mechanical power and he listed three possible courses of action: 1. the use of mechanism must be greatly diminished; or, 2. millions of human beings must be starved, to permit its [mechanism] existence and to the present extent; or, 3. advantageous occupation must be found for the poor and unemployed working classes, to those labour mechanism must be rendered subservient, instead of being applied, as at present, to supersede it.31 He believed that there was no possibility of turning back the industrial growth, particularly because of the prosperity that it had brought, not only to individuals, but to the nation. It would also be impossible to consider 2) since it would be an act of barbarism and gross tyranny for any government to permit mechanical power to starve millions of human beings. Thus, 3) was the only possible direction to consider and for this to become a reality it would ‘demand a comprehensive view and an accurate knowledge of the real state of society’.32 Under the Poor Laws of the early nineteenth century the unemployed were maintained by the parishes. They were unproductive in body and mind, and Owen claimed that this lack of productivity instilled the bad habits that ignorance and idleness always produced, and that as a result the unemployed became a nuisance to society. Any plan that was put in place to ameliorate the distress of the labouring classes must prevent this ignorance and idleness by providing the means for good and useful habits to be formed. The usefulness of an individual to society was dependent upon the training and instruction that the individual received. Owen claimed that: ‘Most of the vices and misery of the poor arise from their being placed under circumstances in which their apparent interest and their apparent duty are opposed to each other, and in consequence of their being surrounded by unnecessary temptations which they had not been trained to overcome.’33 If the poor were removed from the disadvantageous surroundings that enhanced unnecessary temptation and were provided with training and instruction, the advantages would not only be for the individual, but the community as a whole. However, the community should work as an economic unit and hold property in common to be able to relieve their poverty, improve their health, and to raise the standard of living as well as training individuals out of abject ignorance. To affect such a policy it was imperative to establish a community from 500 to 1,500 persons. Owen stated that this may seem a novel plan for the people who had not worked with the poor or those who were under the influence of ‘some favourite theory of political economy’, referring to Adam Smith’s laissez faire philosophy. Like Smith, Owen believed that labour was the source of all wealth. 30 Robert Owen, Report to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor (London, 1817), 5, Owen’s italics. 31 Owen, Report to the Committee, 6–7. 32 Owen, Report to the Committee, 7. 33 Owen, Report to the Committee, 9.

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7.1 The first illustration of Owen’s Village of Unity and Cooperation published in 1817 Source: Drawn by Author from Owen 1817.

However, Owen believed that competition bred an undesirable character, and therefore he endorsed common ownership over private property. He submitted this proposal to the committee on the basis of having 25 years of intensive experience on a daily basis in working with the poor and working classes, in which he had given his unceasing attention to discovering the causes of poverty and misery and to bring about a means of providing a remedy for both. Owen provided the committee with a drawing of the village that would house this type of community (see Figure 7.1). The community was to be agricultural, with some industrial production. After an initial period of establishment it would be self-sufficient and sell its excess production to pay the costs of the community. These communities were to be scattered all over the countryside. The squared buildings of his plan were sufficient to house the ideal size of these communities, 1,200 people. Within the square were the public buildings, and the square was divided into parallelograms. The central buildings were the public kitchen, dining room and everything that was required for cooking and eating. To the right of this was the infants’ school, the lecture room and a place of worship. To the left was the school for older children, the committee room, the library and the lecture rooms for adults. The vacant spaces within the squares were for exercise and recreation. Three sides of the square were the lodging houses for married couples’ accommodation, which consisted of four-room apartments and were sufficient for a married couple with two children under three years old. The fourth side were the dormitories for all the children above the age of three years. In the centre of the sides were the dormitories for the superintendents, the infirmary and the accommodation for visitors, clergyman, schoolmasters and surgeons. Outside of the square were gardens bound with roads, and immediately beyond these were the buildings for mechanical and manufacturing purposes. The slaughterhouses and stables for the horses were separate from the establishment.34 This community of 1,200 persons would consist of men, women and children, of all ages, capacities, and dispositions: most of them very ignorant; many with bad and vicious habits, possessing only the ordinarily bodily and mental facilities of human beings, and who require to be supported out of the funds appropriated to the maintenance of the poor—individuals who are at present not only useless and a direct burden on the public, but whose moral

34 Owen, Report to the Committee, 11–13.

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influence is highly pernicious, since they are the medium by which ignorance and certain classes of vicious habits and crimes are fostered and perpetuated in society.35

In order to effect radical beneficial change in their character they must be placed away from the evil influences and placed into a community where education was a key element of the society. Children over three years old would attend school and live separately from their parents so that they did not acquire the bad habits of their parents. Women’s roles were defined as caring for the infants under three, cultivating the gardens to raise vegetables to supply the public kitchens, undertaking various manufacturing roles that were suitable for women, making clothes for the inmates of the establishment and being rostered in rotation to work in the public kitchens and dormitories. Owen estimated that the cost of this community at £96,000 if the land was purchased or £60,000 if the land was rented. This plan could be accomplished by benevolent individuals, by parishes, by counties or by districts. In this pamphlet Owen said very little about the governance of these villagers, except to say that it would depend on the parties who established the community. However, superintendents for the various departments would be needed, at least in the beginning until the village was established and until others could be trained to take their place. He stated the benefits to the wealthy and industrious in establishing these villagers were that it would relieve them of the heavy and increasing burden of paying the poor rates.36 The poor rate had increased from £5,400,000 in 1815 to £6,900,000 in 1817 and showed no signs of slowing down.37 It would also relieve the poor from their increasing misery and degradation. The first priority was to raise funds to purchase or rent the land. Funds would be consolidated from some public charities by equalising the poor rates and borrowing on their security, or could be borrowed from individuals who had large capital sums that were not otherwise utilised. In this system human labour would no longer compete with machine labour. Machines would be used to assist humanity and be of benefit to society, rather than leave poverty, disease and ignorance in their wake. To complete his report Owen listed the advantages of the introduction of Villages of Unity and Cooperation: their economic benefits; the training of the ignorant who would become good members of society; the improvement of habits and conduct of the present unemployed adult poor; the poor would be able to support themselves; within one generation the poor rates would no longer be needed; the strength and political power of the country would increase; many individuals of ordinary talent would accomplish a great deal more in this environment; it would relieve the manufacturing and labouring poor from the deep distress that they currently suffered; it would permit mechanical inventions to improve society, and every part of society would benefit by this change in the condition of the poor. He claimed: the greatest evils in society arise from mankind being trained in principles of disunion. The proposed measures offer to unite men in the pursuit of common objects for their mutual benefit, by presenting an easy practical plan for gradually withdrawing the causes of difference among individuals, and of making their interest and duty very generally the same.38

Owen had had a great deal of support, particularly through philanthropic societies and the request from the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor was in his capacity as a successful manufacturer. This report would have shocked many people from the committee. New Lanark was always controversial because of Owen’s educational agenda, but it was seen as an ideal industrial town. Although it was always likely that Owen would have had an educational policy at the centre of his theory, given its success in New Lanark, the Villages of Unity and Cooperation were something completely different. New Lanark was an industrial complex and its existence depended upon its profitability, while the Villages of

35 Owen, Report to the Committee, 14–15. 36 Owen, Report to the Committee, 16. 37 Rowland Hill Harvey, Robert Owen, Social Idealist (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1949), 51. 38 Owen, Report to the Committee, 22.

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7.2 Ground plan of Owen’s Village of Unity and Cooperation: H—public kitchens; I—schoolroom, lecture rooms and chapel; K—public were for adults, library, committee room etc.; M—dormitory for boys; N—dormitory girls; T—dwellings of families; X—gardens. Source: Drawn by Author from Owen 1817.

Unity and Cooperation were a radical change in social structure. The Villages were to be an economic unit that was based on cooperative principles with common property and no individual property ownership. This report attracted a great deal of criticism and the Village of Unity and Cooperation became known as ‘the parallelogram of paupers’.39 Owen published an outline with a ground plan (see Figure 7.2) in the newspapers in an attempt to get public interest, and he purchased 30,000 copies of newspapers each day when there were articles expounding his views. These were sent to every Member of Parliament of both houses, every parish minister, the magistrates, bankers, and in fact anyone he thought would be in a position to support such a scheme.40 Many of the articles were complimentary, calling him a visionary,41 but even more were extremely damning.42 Owen published a lengthy letter on 30 July 1817 entitled A Further Development of the Plan for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor where he attempted to answer the criticisms raised. This letter is in the form of questions and answers. Although he attempted to explain every point he added very little new information, but he did suggest a greater role for the government than that in his original proposition. When asked how these villages could be established, Owen stated that first, an Act of Parliament needed to be passed to ‘nationalise the poor’. Secondly: by borrowing, from time to time, on the national security, sufficient sums to build these villages, and to prepare the land for cultivation; the government holds security upon these establishments until both interest and capital shall be paid: by which means the whole process would be straightforward, equitable, and just to all the parties; and the country would enable the government to carry it into execution, without opposition from any interested party.43 39 John F. C. Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America: The Quest for the New Moral World (London: Routledge, 2009), 9; Cole, The Life of Robert Owen, 183. 40 Cole, The Life of Robert Owen, 188. 41 For example, Joseph Weston, ‘Mr. Owen’s Plan’, The Morning Post, Friday, 29 August (1817). 42 For example, Anonymous, ‘Correspondence’, The Morning Chronicle, Wednesday, 20 August (1817). 43 Owen, ‘A Further Development of the Plan for the Relief of Manufacturing and Labouring Poor’, 152.

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Despite Owen’s plan being ‘visionary’, he was unable to promote it to the government. However, from 1817, Owen began to become the Father of English socialism and of many social and political movements, many of which he spent the rest of his life and his fortune fighting for. In November 1824, Owen arrived in America, bringing with him his architect, Stedman Whitwell, and a six-foot model of his ideal Village of Cooperation.44 After his failure to persuade the British government or the philanthropic societies to invest in his plan, he was persuaded to finance one himself in America. Owen purchased a property from a German communistic community, the Rappites, in Indiana. The new community became known as New Harmony. The design of the town and buildings had already been established, although they were insufficient for the size of the ideal community.45 Owen purchased the village for $135,000, which was a quarter of his estimation for the cost of a similar establishment in the British Isles.46 Owen promoted this New Harmony through a lecture tour around America. In a lecture in Washington the model was placed in an anteroom at the White House, where Whitwell expounded its advantages, and the model remained there for about six weeks. The reality in New Harmony was exceptionally different to this pristine model. Owen’s son, William, who was overseeing developments in New Harmony, wrote to his father complaining ‘no lime, no rocks (ready blasted), no brick, no timber, no boards, no shingles, nothing requisite for buildings, and as to getting them from others, they are not to be had in the whole country’.47 Whitwell’s plan was never realised; however, in 1830, Whitwell published Description of an Architectural Model. Presumably this was the same as the model that was displayed in America and it is this 1830 published plan that is now associated with Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation (Figure 7.3).

7.3 Stedman Whitwell’s design for Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation Source: Drawn by Author from Whitwell 1830.

44 W. H. G. Armytage, ‘Owen and America’, in Robert Owen, Prophet of the Poor: Essays in Honour of the Two Hundredth Anniversary of His Birth, ed. Sidney Pollard and John Salt (London: Macmillan, 1971), 218. 45 Patrick Eyres, ‘New Arcadias; Robert Owen and the Landscape of Utopia New Lanark and New Harmony’, New Arcadian Journal 25 (1987), 11; David Starr Jordan and Amos W. Butler, ‘New Harmony’, The Scientific Monthly 25, no. 5 (1927). 46 Arthur Eugene Bestor, Backwoods Utopias, the Sectarian and Overnight Phases of Communitarian Socialism in America: 1663–1829 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1959), 102 and footnote 36. 47 William Owen as quoted by Armytage, ‘Owen and America’, 218.

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112 3. The Political Philosophy

Central to Owen’s political philosophy on the Villages of Unity and Cooperation were his education theories that were outlined in New View of Society. However, Owen’s purpose was not just to educate the young or even to form good character, but to improve the individual. His main purpose was to form a community that was ordered, united and happy. He wished to influence true social reform. Owen had worked in Manchester from 1788 to 1800, and in this time Manchester had gone from a moderate country city to one of the first modern industrial cities in the world. Its population had grown from 27,000 in 1773 to 95,000 in 1801. In Manchester at this time there were extremes of wealth and poverty, communication between the classes had completely broken down and it was disorderly and disunited.48 By contrast, New Lanark was a rural and isolated community. Although it had drunkenness, theft and social problems, at the time of his arrival, its size and isolation gave Owen the opportunity to bring into practice his principles to improve the society of New Lanark.49 He claimed that implementing his ‘experiment’ was the: first commencement of practical measures with a view to change the fundamental principles on which society has heretofore been based from the beginning; and no experiment could be more successful in improving the truth of the principal that the character is formed for and not by individuals, and that society now possesses the most ample means and power to well form the character of everyone, by reconstructing society on its true principles, and making it consistent with the fundamental principles in all its departments and provisions. [ … ] From basing society on its true principles, there will be little difficulty in creating a good and valuable character for all, and in building up society with good conditions only.50

Other industrial communities had provided improved working conditions, better housing conditions and education for their children.51 However, these communities did not attract the number of visitors as New Lanark did—over 2,000 a week—to view this successful industrial mill and the implementation of his educational policies. It was the success of New Lanark and his publication of New View of Society that brought Owen widespread celebrity status and raised his profile in society, and had led to the invitation to report to the Committee for the Relief of the Manufacturing Poor.52 In 1816, Owen was a successful manufacturer who was the manager of a model industrial mill, had organised the community around it, and at the centre of this village there was an educational institution that was unlike any other at the time. The education system of the early nineteenth century was known as the Monitorial system, which had been developed independently by Andrew Bell and Joseph Lancaster. This system was designed for use in underprivileged schools; it utilised a system of monitors, generally older students, instructing the younger students. The system assumed that the older students would eventually become the teachers. It was a system based on rote learning, reward, and punishment in the form of shame rather than pain.53 Owen claimed that although Bell and Lancaster could teach the poor to read, write and do arithmetic, their systems did not train the character. Although they could be proficient in their schooling tasks they could also have the worst habits and characters.54 Well before his conception of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation he perceived education and training to have the wider objective of social transformation. From the time that Owen took over the management of New Lanark he began to improve the schooling and education of the children that David Dale had already begun. The greatest difference between Owen and Bell and Lancaster was in the curriculum. Owen believed strongly in the balance between physical and mental instruction. The children were not only taught to read, write and do arithmetic, but they also worked 48 Harrison, Robert Owen, 127. 49 Robert Owen, The Revolution in the Mind and Practice of the Human Race: or the Coming Change from Irrational to Rational (London: Effingham Wilson, 1849), 22. 50 Owen, The Life of Robert Owen, 85. 51 Lindsay, ‘An Early Industrial Community’. 52 Ian Donnachie, Robert Owen: Owen of New Lanark and New Harmony (East Lothian: Tuckwell Press, 2000), 134. 53 Carl F. Kaestle, Joseph Lancaster and the Monitorial School Movement (1973) (New York: Teachers College Press, 1973), 61. 54 Owen, A New View of Society, 74.

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on practical skills. The girls would be taught to make useful family garments, to prepare food, they were to attend the public kitchens and eating rooms in rotation and to learn the keeping of a neat and orderly house.55 The boys were instructed in the arts of war, being taught drilling exercises and the more complicated military movements in the playground. This would ‘greatly contribute to the health and spirits of the boys, give them an erect and proper form, and habits of attention, celerity, and order’.56 The New View of Society consists of four essays, with each essay having its own dedication. The first essay is entitled ‘Essay of Formation of Character’ and it was dedicated to William Wilberforce in the first edition; but Wilberforce voted against Owen’s plan for the relief of the poor when it came up before the House of Commons. As a consequence, in subsequent editions this dedication is omitted. In this essay Owen firmly stated the central principle of his education system: Any general character, from the best to the worst, from the most ignorant to the most enlightened, may be given to any community, even to the world at large, by the application of the proper means; which means are to a great extent at the command and under the control of those who have influence in the affairs of men.57

This could not be achieved by reward and punishment, but by providing the correct training. When Owen was writing The New View of Society there were approximately 200 offences in English law that called for the death penalty. In England in the early nineteenth century hungry and desperate people were led to steal to survive and could face horrendous punishments. Instead of punishing crimes after they have been committed, according to Owen training the human character would prevent the crimes from being committed. In this Owen may have been influenced by Thomas More, whose citizens of the Commonwealth of Utopia are so well educated that they need very few laws. More stated: if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupt from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which the first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this but that you first make thieves and then punish them?58

It is his first essay and the principles are the essence of Owen’s philosophy. He believed that the benefits of his experiments in New Lanark were clear to see. The second essay is about the implementation of his principles, and outlined the curriculum that he had instituted in New Lanark. This essay was dedicated to the general public. The third essay is dedicated to the superintendents of manufacturers, and begins by stating that he was a manufacturer for pecuniary profit. The purpose of the essay is to convince manufacturers that since they look after their machines for profit, it is also a good idea to look after their ‘living machines’,59 not only the health and happiness of the ‘living machines’, but also for their own profit. The final essay is dedicated to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and considers the benefit to the nation. Here, Owen stressed that the current level of abject poverty, disease, and misery disadvantaged the nation as well as the individual. In Owen’s speech60 at the opening of the Institute for the Formation of Character at New Lanark on 1 January 1816, he reiterated his education policy to be carried out in the Institute. The Institute would receive children at a very early age, as soon as they could walk. This was to prevent them from forming bad habits from their parents, who had not been trained. On coming into the playground these young children were told ‘that he must endeavour to make his companion happy’.61 The young children would be taught to comprehend that they were part of the community and that to make other people happy had important consequences for society. 55 Owen, A New View of Society, 47. 56 Owen, A New View of Society, 54. 57 Owen, A New View of Society, 12. 58 Thomas More, Utopia (Rockwell, Maryland: Arc Manor, 2008), 23. 59 Owen, A New View of Society, 5. 60 Robert Owen, Address on Opening the Institute for the Formation of Character at New Lanark (London: Home Colonisation Society, 1841). 61 Owen, A New View of Society, 46.

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The Institute was a two-storey building with the playground. The older children, up to ten years old, were taught for five hours a day while the younger for only half that time. The room that was used for the children’s instructions was: furnished with paintings, chiefly of animals, with maps, and often supplied with natural objects from the garden, fields, and woods,—the examination and exploration of which always excited the curiosity and created an animated conversation between children and their instructors, now themselves requiring new knowledge by attempting to instruct their young friends, as I [Owen] always taught them to think of their pupils were, and to treat them as such.62 After the age of ten the children worked at the factory, although Owen had unsuccessfully fought to increase that age to 12 when he was attempting to reform factory practices through political means.63 In New Lanark, Owen was never free to increase the age at which he could employ factory workers since he was answerable to his partners, who were interested in the profit margin rather than a social experiment. While Owen was manager at New Lanark (1800–1825) he formed three partnerships. Each partner had some objection to Owen’s education policy in New Lanark. The first two partners had reservations on the fiscal value of spending money on education, while his third partner, who had more benevolent motives, wanted a stronger religious curriculum and was also critical of the dancing, singing and drilling that was in Owen’s curriculum, as they had a preference to the more ‘acceptable’ Monitorial system. Although Owen’s powers to execute his social experiment had their limitations, particularly on his expenditure, he was still able to effect significant change in the town of New Lanark. Towards the end of his life, Owen, then recognised as the Father of British socialism, realised that the ‘people [of New Lanark] were slaves at my mercy; liable at any time to be dismissed; and knowing that, in that case, they must go into misery, compared with such limited happiness as they now enjoyed’.64 However, the publication of A New View of Society was the first step to the development of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation and the cooperative movement of Britain that was a subsequent consequence of his theories. In January 1813, Owen attended a dinner at a newspaper proprietor’s house (Daniel Stuart), and there he met William Godwin, a prominent philosopher and author of an Enquiry Concerning Political Justice. According to Godwin’s diaries, in the spring of that year when Owen was working on the second, third and fourth essays of A New View of Society, he was a frequent visitor, meeting with him at least twice a week.65 Godwin argued for a new social order, stressing social justice and equality for the individual. Education was very prominent in his philosophy, as was the formation of character and happiness. There are very strong parallels between Godwin and Owen’s philosophies. A contemporary satirist, William Hone, was explicit in his review of A New View of Society: The doctrine of Universal Benevolence, the belief in the Omnipotence of Truth, and in the Perfectibility of Human Nature, are not new, but ‘old, old,’ Master Robert Owen [ … ]. Does not Mr Owen know at the same scheme, the same principles, the same philosophy of motives and actions [ … ]. Of virtues and happiness, were rife in the year 1793 [ … ]? Let his New View of Society but make as many disciples as the Enquiry Concerning Political Justice, and we shall see the tide will turn about [ … ]66

When Enquiry Concerning Political Justice was first published it gained immediate popularity with the public. Although Godwinism did attract disciples, such as Wordsworth, Coleridge and Shelley, its immediate appeal was short-lived.67 However, Owen’s A New View of Society did attract many converts from 1813 onwards. 62 Owen, The Life of Robert Owen, 140. 63 Cole, The Life of Robert Owen, 147–169. 64 Owen, The Revolution in the Mind and Practice of the Human Race, 21. 65 Donnachie, Robert Owen, 115. 66 Hone, as quoted by as quoted by Peter H. Marshall, William Godwin (Bath: The Pitman Press, 1984), 311. 67 Marshall, William Godwin, 130, 239, 294.

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Thomas Spence had become notorious, and it was impossible to live in London between 1812 and 1820 without being aware of Spence and his followers.68 The Restorer of Society to its Natural State called for the nationalisation of land into the hands of the local authorities, so it could be rented to farmers and labourers at modest rentals. Education, community and the rights of the ordinary people were key points to Spence’s theories. Spence promoted a far more radical approach than Owen ever did by proposing to nationalise all land in the country, while Owen purchased or rented the land for his communities. However, on the other hand, Spence’s community was more conservative in its social structure. Although Spence’s communities were self-governing, they consisted of individual landholders who rented their nationalised land from the community. This rent would form a single tax, from which the expenses of community and central administration would be financed. There would be no other taxes or duties levied. Other than this tax, the products of the landholders’ property were owned by that landholder and not the community. A thriving agriculture, free trade and manufacture and absolute democracy would unite to elevate the nation to a high moral level.69 Spence appealed to the citizen since he perceived the nation’s problems to be private ownership of the peoples’ land: if we really wanted to get rid of the evils from amongst men, we must destroy not only personal and hereditary Lordship, but the cause of them, which is private property is land. For this is the pillar that supports the Temple of aristocracy. Take away if you want, and the whole fabric of their Dominion falls to the ground. Then shall no other lord have dominion over us, but the law, and laws too of our own making: for at present it is those who have robbed us of our lands, and have robbed us also of the privilege of making our own laws: so in truth and reality we are in in bondage, and vassalage to be landed interest. [ … ] then what can be the cure but this? Namely that the land shall no longer be suffered to be the property of individuals, but of the parishes. The rents of this parish estate, shall be deemed the equal property of man, woman, and child’s, whether old or young, rich or poor, legitimate or illegitimate.70

One strong critic of Godwin and Spence, and consequently Owen, was Thomas Malthus, who published An Essay on the Principles of Population in 1798. Malthus’s three basic principles were: 1) when birth rates increase income decreases; 2) when death rates decline income increases and 3) when income decreases population increases. In the Malthusian world living standards depend only on the birth and death rates. All that technology does is to increase the population and there is no connection between the level of technology and the level of living standards.71 Malthus believed that these proposed villages could not prosper because food production could not be maintained at the level that was required for the increase in population. Malthus was extremely critical of Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation. In the sixth edition of An Essay on the Principles of Population, published in 1817, Malthus made a direct attack against Owen. He claimed that not only would these villages fail, they would be an unnatural and unjust intervention in the progression of population and would lead to a state of universal poverty and distress, since food production could not maintain their population; in short, they would increase poverty by increasing the number of paupers.72 However, it was clear by 1817 that the total production power to population had increased 12-fold since 1792. Material abundance was fundamental to the success of Owen’s Village. This abundance provided an answer to Malthus and demonstrated that productive capacity could rise faster than the population.73 Nevertheless, Malthus’s theories did look plausible to Owen’s generation, particularly given the massive population growth. Malthusians attended Owen’s lectures, disrupting the proceedings and making their voices heard.74 Both Godwin and Spence’s theories 68 Ian Tod and Michael Wheeler, Utopia (New York: Harmony Books, 1979), 73. 69 Thomas Spence, ‘The Real Rights of Man’, in The Pioneers of Land Reform, ed. M. Beer (London: G. Bell and Sons Ltd, 1920). 70 Thomas Spence, The Restorer of Society to Its Natural State; to a Fellow Citizen (London, 1800), 21. 71 Thomas Robert Malthus, An Essay on the Principle of Population: Or, a View of Its Past and Present Affects on Human Happiness (Washington City, 1809). 72 Harvey, Robert Owen, Social Idealist, 62–63. 73 Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America: The Quest for the New Moral World, 55. 74 Harvey, Robert Owen, Social Idealist, 64–65.

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attracted different followers. Godwin’s more philosophical approach appealed to the late eighteenth century romantics such as Wordsworth, Coleridge and Shelley, while Spence made a direct appeal to the urban working classes, who although politically powerless, were increasing in numbers and militancy, which was unsettling the politicians. Owen first approached the politicians, churchmen, political committees, wealthy manufacturers, philanthropic societies and significant members of society, such as the Duke of Kent, Queen Victoria’s father. He gained some support from his approaches. However, despite the success and praise of the system implemented at New Lanark, the Villages of Unity and Cooperation were seen as something entirely different and were perceived as something dangerous that would radically change society and threaten private property. The government and the newspapers did not see them as the solution to the national crisis. Owen had initially received support from the Church. However, on 21 August 1817, at a meeting at the city of London Tavern, after outlining his Villages and the improvements to society that would result he claimed that the current system of society had made people weak, imbecilic animals and he asked why this paradise on earth of the unity and cooperation had been prohibited to society. Owen’s answer to this question alienated any religious support that he had, and made many enemies throughout society: In all the religions which have been hitherto forced on the minds of men, deep, dangerous, and lamentable principles of disunity, division, and separation, have been fast entwined with all their fundamental notions; and the certain consequences have been all the dire effects which religious animosities have, through all the past periods of the world, inflicted with such unrelenting stern severity, or mad and furious zeal! If, therefore, my friends, you should carry with you into these proposed villages of intended unity and unlimited mutual cooperation, one single particle of religious intolerance, or sectarian feeling of division and separation,— maniacs only would go there to look for harmony and happiness; or elsewhere, as long as such sane errors should be found to exist!75

With his failure to convince the government or philanthropists of the benefits of the Villages, as well as alienating the Church, Owen turned his appeal to the working masses. He departed England in October 1824 and sailed to America to establish the first Owenite community, New Harmony, in Indiana. The original settlement only survived less than a year before it began to break apart, and within two years it was several separate communities. Why New Harmony failed so rapidly has been discussed and analysed elsewhere, and various reasons have given for its failure, such as a lack of accommodation for the original settlers; no selection policy for the settlers, who were unsuited to the agricultural tasks; religious and social divisions; the separation of three-year-old children from families permanently distressed many of the parents, and there was disagreement on the governance of the settlement.76 New Harmony dissolved in less than three years and Owen returned to England in 1829 to find that his theory of cooperation had been applied, but not in the manner that he initially proposed. The London Cooperative Society begun in early 1824 and Owen is often credited with being the instigator of the cooperative movement. However, cooperative stores had been pioneered in Scotland and northern England from 1796 onwards.77 The amount of publicity that Owen’s Villages received may have re-stimulated the acceleration of these cooperative trading stores. Owen began a cooperative trading store that was initially successful but eventually failed, as did many others around the countryside. In 1833, he began the idea of stores that traded ‘labour for labour’. An article would be valued at the value of the labour involved in its construction. Notes were issued for the number of hours of labour and these could be exchanged for other goods of equal labour value. None of these schemes were entirely satisfactory to Owen. The Villages of 75 Robert Owen, ‘Address: Delivered at the City of London Tavern on Thursday, August 21 and Published in the London Newspapers of August 22, 1817’, in A Supplementary Appendix to the First Volume of the Life of Robert Owen, ed. Robert Owen (London: Frank Cass and Co. Ltd, 1967), 115; Owen’s italics. 76 For details see Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America; Bestor, Backwoods Utopias, the Sectarian and Overnight Phases of Communitarian Socialism in America: 1663–1829; Cole, The Life of Robert Owen; Donnachie, Robert Owen; Harvey, Robert Owen, Social Idealist; and Jordan and Butler, ‘New Harmony’. 77 Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America, 165.

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Unity and Cooperation would transform society into a ‘new moral world’, while the cooperative movement would relieve initial suffering, but this was far from Owen’s essential philosophy. Owen published a weekly periodical, The Crisis, which was launched in 1832 and expressed his theory on labour exchanges and cooperation. At a conference in London, Owen was elected as one of the founders of the Grand National Consolidated Trades Union. The organisation was rife with disagreements over the approach they should take over labour disputes.78 These disputes lead to Owen breaking with the labour movement in 1834. He returned to his concept of the Villages and the founding of a new journal, The New Moral World. Owen, aged 65, decided to put into one book his complete philosophy. The book was also entitled The New Moral World, and the first part was published in 1836 and the entire book in 1840. Owen outlined ‘Five Fundamental Facts’, and ‘Twenty Laws of Human Nature’.79 In these facts and laws he developed no new ideas, but merely restated his educational creed that human nature was plastic and could be moulded into shape. All original sin could be purged and the ideal man could be created through an educational curriculum. Happiness could only be obtained in a society that was free from private property and greed, and this could only be created through the construction of Villages of Unity and Cooperation. In 1840, Owen embarked on a new settlement at Queenwood Farm in Hampshire. The site was 533 acres and was designed for 700 members, but the community never attracted more than 90 inhabitants. Owen secured funding for a luxurious mansion, Harmony, or Queenwood Hall, which was to house his educational institution. No expense was spared for the materials and the fittings of Queenwood Hall. A contemporary account described the building: ‘No cathedral was ever well built so reverently as was Queenwood Hall. Handmade rails, not machine-made were used in the work out of sight. [ … ] The great kitchen was wainscoted with mahogany halfway up the walls.’80 The kitchen was equipped with the most modern machinery, it had a conveyor that carried food and dishes to and from the dining room, and the architect, Joseph Hanson, claimed that Queenwood’s kitchen was more advanced than any hotel in London.81 The project was underfunded, and Owen quickly spent funds on unnecessary and extravagant equipment. He was removed from control of the project in 1842. After regaining control in 1843, problems occurred with the inhabitants, as the Owenite education system was not what the inhabitants expected. There was a rebellion against Owen’s despotic control of the community’s policies and he finally was removed from the project. The community failed and was closed in 1845. Owen was 74 years old and this was the last Village of Unity and Cooperation that he was involved in. With the closure of Queenwood, Robert Owen’s career as the leader of the public movement also closed.82 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Stedman Whitwell was a practising architect in Birmingham and Coventry, but had mostly executed minor buildings. His architectural career was marred by the collapse of the Brunswick Theatre, designed in 1827, which collapsed in 1828.83 Whitwell is best known for his reconstruction of Owen’s Village designed in 1824 and published in 1830 as The Description of an Architectural Model. However, this was not his first utopian design. In 1819 he made designs for a proposed ‘utopian’ development at Leamington Spa that was to be called ‘Southville’. The plans for Southville have not survived, but in the 1820 catalogue for the Royal Academy, in entry 962, there is listed a sketch of Whitwell’s church for Southville that had ‘in dimension and external size a facsimile of the pantheon’.84 Interestingly, entry 321, ‘View of the 78 For an overview of Owen’s relationship with the unions see Lloyd Jones, The Life, Times, and Labours of Robert Owen (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1890); and Sargant, Robert Owen and His Social Philosophy for contemporary accounts. 79 Robert Owen, The New Moral World (Glasgow, 1840), 1–3. 80 Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America, 159. 81 Gregory Claeys, ‘Introduction’, in A New Society and Other Writings, ed. Gregory Claeys (London: Penguin, 1991), xxi. 82 Jones, The Life, Times, and Labours of Robert Owen, Chapter XV. 83 Anonymous, ‘Miscellanea’, The Builder 1, no. xxii (1843), 272. 84 The Royal Academy, The Exhibition of the Royal Academy 1820 (London: The Royal Academy, 1820), 42.

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agricultural and manufacturing Village of United and Mutual Cooperation, agreeable to the plan proposed by R Owen’,85 is listed and was attributed to Miss Whitwell. The address details for Miss Whitwell are different to Stedman so it is difficult to ascertain any relationship to him. Stedman Whitwell’s plans for the Villages appear to have been on the same scale and ideals as Southville. Although the architectural model was attributed Owen’s principles, in the title Whitwell stated the villages were ‘design for a community of 2,000 persons founded upon a principal commended by Plato, Lord Bacon and Sir Thomas More’.86 The original 1817 design promoted by Owen (see Figure 7.1) is amateurish and crudely drawn and it was likely to have originated from an amateurish and unskilled hand—Miss Whitwell or Owen himself; however, it is impossible to establish whether the plan exhibited in the 1820 Exhibition was the same as Owen’s original. In Whitwell’s design, although there is a similarity to the ground plan of Owen’s design, the improvements in the plan are more modern and sophisticated. In the 1817 plan, the centre of the square contained a public building for the public kitchens, dining room and all the necessities for cooking and eating. To the right of the building was a school and lecture room, and to the left a school for the older children as well as a committee room. In the 1830 plan, the centre was a conservatory in the midst of botanical gardens (see Plate 17). The outer square was the same as the original plan, but there are now four symmetrically place public buildings, with gymnasiums in each of the corners of the square. However, it is impossible to know whether it was Owen’s or Whitwell’s idea to change the ground plan. It should be noted that the 1830 plan would accommodate more people than the original concept; however, in Owen’s American lectures he did increase the population of villagers. It is Whitwell’s final plan, not the original, which is reproduced to be the ideal plan for Owen’s Village of Unity and Cooperation.87 Surprisingly for an architect, Whitwell did not supply any elevations or sections in his Description, only the one perspective drawing (see Figure 7.3). The square would be 33 acres and the enclosed quadrangle 22 acres. It would have the best orientation: It is proposed that one of the diagonal lines of the square should be placed as to coincide with a meridian, and, if possible, to range with some remarkable points or objects of the distant country. This would ensure an equal distribution of light and darkness, sun and shade among the occupants of every part of the edifice; and be convenient for astrological and geographical reference.88

Whitwell described the use of each building and outlined the architectural details: he described the dwelling houses, the central buildings, the baths, the public refectories, kitchens, breweries and all the utilities. The four large internal buildings each had a massive tower that had multiple purposes (see Plate 18). They were intended to form astrological observatories and for this purpose they had an external spiral staircase. Halfway up the towers were clocks that were illuminated by gaslight at night. There were powerful reflectors powered by gas that radiated light downwards and illuminated the internal courtyard at night. They were also chimneys for the kitchens and for the underground transport system. The square was on an elevated platform and underneath the square was a subway that led to the storerooms and to the rail system. The rail system formed a complete circuit of the establishment and had four central stoping points, each under the main public buildings (see Plate 16). This rail system also connected the village with other villages and towns. The lighting system, the clocks, the observatory and the light rail system were not mentioned in Owen’s original plan. Whitwell’s plan integrated the most modern features into the Villages (Figure 7.4). This plan was no longer ‘the parallelogram of paupers’.

85 The Royal Academy, The Exhibition of the Royal Academy 1820, 19. 86 Stedman Whitwell, ‘Description of an Architectural Model for a Community Upon a Principal of United Interests as Advocated by Robert Owen’, in Cooperative Communities: Plans and Descriptions, ed. Kenneth E. Carpenter (New York: Arno Press, 1972). 87 The cover page of Whitwell’s Description of an Architectural Model is repeatedly reproduced as being the ideal image of New Harmony; for examples see Donnachie, Robert Owen: Owen of New Lanark and New Harmony, Plate 12 and Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America, 98. 88 Whitwell, ‘Description of an Architectural Model’, 5.

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7.4 Elevations of the Village of Cooperation Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Whitwell 1830.

5. Conclusion For 40 years Robert Owen propagated a social philosophy that revolved around his theory of education—that humans could be trained into a higher or more moral character. Owen believed that this philosophy had been proven in his experiments in New Lanark. The improvements at New Lanark had earned it the title of ‘The Happy Valley’,89 and the changes were miraculous. However, after 1817, Owen took his social transformation into the larger scale of political transformation. In 1832 he was asked ‘what would you do if you were Prime Minister of England?’ and his mantra was the same: ‘I would change all the existing low, inferior, and vicious circumstances for others of a very superior character.’90 The only way to bring this change in society was 89 Owen, The Revolution in the Mind and Practice of the Human Race, 20. 90 Robert Owen, ‘Robert Owen’s Reply to the Question “What Would You Do, If You Were Prime Minister of England?”’, Cowen Tracts (1832), 2.

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through the Villages of Unity and Cooperation with strict policies of education and by removing children from their parents at a very early age so that they would not be polluted by their parents’ bad and inferior characters. He outlined seven points that would secure the rights of the individual and would abolish the oppression of wealth over poverty. He concluded that the necessary measures were: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

A graduated property tax, equal to the necessity of national expediency; The abolition of all other taxes; Free trade with all the world; National education for all who desire it; National employment for all who require it; Liberty of speaking and writing on all subjects, civic, religious, and political, and Full and complete freedom of religion for Christians, Jews, Mahomadons, Hindoos, and every other form, under every name by which men may call themselves.91

These were the principles that were espoused by Godwin and Spence. However, in Owen’s transformation of society, the Villages of Unity and Cooperation were an essential element and within these villages Points 4) and 5) were compulsory, not optional. Between 1839 and 1845 there was a tidal wave of publicity and some two million pamphlets in one year alone outlining the socialist view on competition, industry and the potential for a just economic system. Tens of thousands attended Sunday lectures at Owenite branches, including a young German merchant, Frederick Engels.92 Engels met Owen and contributed articles to Owen’s New Moral World. In 1880, Engels published Socialism: Utopian and Scientific. Engels distinguished between what he perceived to be utopian and scientific forms of socialism. He perceived the theories of Karl Marx to be scientific, and he outlined the basic idea of Marxism together with the Communist Manifesto. However, Engels also considered that utopian socialism included Owen’s theories. He congratulated Owen on his success at New Lanark, and at the same time he pointed out that it was an extremely profitable venture. However, Engels claimed that Owen’s Villages were purely a business foundation commercially calculated, and it was essential that they ran at a profit. According to Engels, these villages and his labour exchanges were only a first step towards a more radical revolution of society. This utopian mode of thought could not reform society.93 The expression ‘Utopian socialism’ became a disparaging term in the nineteenth century. Despite this criticism and the successive failures of Owen’s socialist and utopian ventures, Owen had attracted many disciples to his philosophy. Although many did not adopt Owenism in its complete form, nevertheless, his influence was substantial. The cooperative movement continued well into the twentieth century and remnants of it still remain today. In the mid-nineteenth century, Villages of Unity and Cooperation were still considered a viable possibility by many of his disciples, who developed their own villages; in particular, James Silk Buckingham and Robert Pemberton. By this time there was a general acceptance that the agrarian society would not return in Britain; however, Owen had established a utopian ideal that returned to the mixed society of industry and agriculture and was reminiscent of the structure of Campanella’s and Andreae’s societies. Each of Owen’s disciples adapted his theories, but each had a different interpretation of the village or town and its plan.

91 Owen, ‘Robert Owen’s Reply’, 12. 92 Claeys, ‘Introduction’, xxii. 93 Frederick Engels, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (New York: International Publishers, 1972).

Chapter 8

James Silk Buckingham—Victoria

1. Background Owen’s Report to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor and his activities supporting the Villages of Unity and Cooperation and the cooperative movement had made an impact by stimulating the idea that the British labourer could change the environment for the better. The reality was that most of his projects had very little impact on the quality of labourers’ lives and working conditions. However, unions had formed for the workers to express their dissatisfaction with society. In the late summer of 1818, the ‘Union for the Promotion of Human Happiness’ was formed, and this provided a lead for many other unions, particularly in the north of England, between 1818 and 1819.1 The purpose of this union and others like it was to promote radical reform of Parliament by means of suffrage for all male persons, and to improve the health and living conditions of citizens. The continuous growth of the industrial towns was causing distinct housing and health problems, such as a lack of sanitation, insufficient light and ventilation, overcrowding and a lack of water facilities, which resulted in enormous pollution and health issues in the industrial cities. In 1828, a Member of Parliament, John Arthur Roebuck, advocated more open spaces within towns and common lands outside towns. He strongly supported Jeremy Bentham’s doctrine of Utilitarianism—that of the ‘greatest happiness of the greatest number’. Roebuck believed that men and women could never find great happiness while living in a polluted, sordid, squalid and miserable factory town. The creation of parks and open spaces within the town would relieve the gloom of the town itself and provide areas for relaxation and exercise.2 As a result of Roebuck’s advocacy, a Parliamentary Committee was formed to study public walks. Its final recommendations led to a debate on the issues of the relationship between general health in densely populated towns and the value of recreation in open spaces. Roebuck was responsible for the publication in 1833 of the Report from the Selected Committee on Public Walks.3 The report concluded that due to the enclosures that there was little or no provision made for public walks or open spaces particularly ‘fitted to afford means of exercise or amusement to the middle or humbler classes’.4 Other committees were formed in 1840 and 1842, together with the two reports from 1844– 5, all presented evidence of a dismal tale of speculative building, land expropriations and civic indifference. However, despite these findings, the establishment of open areas and public parks for recreation purposes was extremely slow;5 and even when parks began to be established in London the rationale was not always directed at public interest. When the Crown planned Regents Park in London the park was openly regarded as a device for increasing the land values of the neighbouring properties that were also owned by the Crown.6 In early 1832, the Manchester Statistical Society instigated a set of housing surveys. The first involved 4,102 families in the working class district of Manchester, St Michael’s and New Cross. By the 1840s, statistical societies from London, Bristol, Leeds and many others, including more rural areas such as the North Midlands, had replicated the work of the Manchester Statistical Society. Some of these surveys used substantially larger samples. Stockport surveyed 14,825 tenements and cottages.7 The surveys show extremely 1 Paul Mason, Life Working or Die Fighting: How the Working Class Went Global (London: Vintage, 2008), 19. 2 Francis E. Hyde, ‘Utilitarian Town Planning, 1825–1845’, The Town Planning Review 19, no. 3/4 (1947). 3 Peter Batchelor, ‘The Origin of the Garden City Concept of Urban Form’, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians 28, no. 3 (1968), 190. 4 Report from the Selected Committee on Public Walks as quoted by W. Robert Malcolmson, Popular Recreation in English Society 1700–1850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 109. 5 Hyde, ‘Utilitarian Town Planning, 1825–1845’, 158. 6 Lewis Mumford, The City in History (San Diego, New York, and London: Harvest, 1989). 7 See Table 9.2 in Jeffrey G. Williamson, Coping with City Growth During the British Industrial Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 241.

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high rents in the cities. The rents in London were two and a half times that of the rural south and the same proportion was true for Manchester and the rural north. The larger and more densely populated cities had significantly higher rents. There was a wide variation in the infant mortality rates across towns and cities in the first half of the nineteenth century, with the denser cities having extremely high rates per thousand.8 By 1851, the population of Manchester was 316,000. Manchester City Council did not come into being until 1853 and the urban density problem continued to rise and the housing problem became critical. There were no construction by-laws in Manchester until 1868 and many speculators could build numerous dwellings on a site with no restrictions over air, light or space. This led to the creation of slum areas with a high density of houses and people.9 Frederick Engels called the migration of the rural labour into British cities ‘social murder’. The high density and the decaying urban environment contributed heavily to the cities’ mortality and morbidity rates. Yet the towns continued to grow. In 1845, Engels published The Conditions of the Working Class in England in 1844. He claimed that the housing conditions were so poor and expensive that ‘no hole is so bad but that some poor creature must take it who can pay for nothing better’.10 Engels described an area in Manchester known as New Town that stretched up a hill of clay. He claimed that at New Town: all the features of a city are lost. Single rows of houses or groups of streets stand, here and there, like little villages on the naked, not even grass-grown clay soil; the houses, or rather cottages, are in bad order, never repaired, filthy, with damp, unclean, cellar dwellings; the lanes are neither paved nor supplied with sewers, but harbour numerous colonies of swine in hand in small sties or yards, or wandering unrestrained through the neighbourhood. The mud in the streets is so deep that there is never a chance, except in the driest weather, of walking without sinking into it ankle-deep at every step. In the vicinity of St George’s Road, the separate groups of buildings approach each other more closely, ending in a continuation of lanes, blind alleys, and back lanes and courts, which grow more and more crowded and irregular the nearer they approach the heart of the city.11

There was a call for change, not only by social reformers and politicians, but also by the public, with the hope of political reform. However, there were many others calling for direct political action from the workers. Political activist Henry Hunt attended meetings in Birmingham, Leeds and Manchester, where he called for the workers to ignore Parliament and present the Prince Regent directly with a petition demanding universal suffrage and annual elected parliaments. The government feared a breakdown of public order. Hunt was to speak at a large rally at St Peter’s Fields, Manchester in August 1819.12 Over 60,000 men, women, children assembled at the fields. The meeting was forcibly broken up and more than 400 people were injured and 11 were either sabred or trampled to death. It was dubbed ‘the Peterloo Massacre’ in a biting ironical reference to Wellington’s Waterloo.13 The government moved quickly to gag the newspapers and prevent further large meetings and they introduced the notorious ‘Six Acts’, which involved the Training Prevention Act; Newspaper and Stamp Duty Act: The Seditious Meeting Prevention Act: Blasphemy and Seditious Libels; Misdemeanour Act, and Seizure Of Arms Act.14 Although the government resisted any reform, public opinion applied pressure to the government. The Six Acts proved to be very unpopular and were soon repealed. Peterloo gave the radical cause a focus for reform. William Cobbett, the radical English pamphleteer and journalist who had attacked the established politicians and fought for the end of the poverty of farm labourers, 8 See Table 9.3 in Williamson, Coping with City Growth, 243. 9 Garrett Nagle, Changing Settlements, London (Thomas Nelson and Son Ltd, 1998), 28. 10 Frederick Engels, The Conditions of the Working Class in England in 1844 (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1952), 54; Engels’s italics. 11 Engels, The Conditions of the Working Class, 54–55. 12 Donald Read, Peterloo: The Massacre and Its Background (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1958). 13 Eric J. Evans, Britain before the Reform Act: Politics and Society 1815–1830 (London and New York: Longman, 1989), 20–23. 14 James Chandler, England in 1819: The Politics of Literary Culture and the Case of the Romantic Historicism (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998), 15–17.

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had fled to America in fear of arrest for his radical activities. Cobbett returned to England after the Peterloo massacre to join the radical attack on the government,15 perhaps feeling that public opinion was turning away from the government. Nevertheless, he was arrested for libel but was able to avoid a long prison term. With the increase of population and the growth in urban areas, the already disproportionately small number of citizens who were franchised to vote became even more disproportionate. For example, in 1831 Leeds had a population of 125,000, with a high proportion of industrial workers who were not franchised to vote, and only 5,000 citizens who were entitled vote in the district. Birmingham’s population was 144,000, but only 7,000 were eligible to vote.16 Most of the 203 boroughs in England were small: 43 boroughs had in excess of 1,000 eligible to vote; 113 had fewer than 300 eligible voters but there were 56 truly ‘rotten boroughs’ that had fewer than 50 voters.17 At the John Soane Museum in London is a series of four satirical paintings by William Hogarth, painted in 1754–1755. The paintings show election entertainment, canvassing for votes by buying them, the polling with its corrupt practices, and the riotous and drunken behaviour of carrying candidates through the streets in triumph. The British parliamentary system was not held in high esteem and the public mood was for change. The parliamentary system in Britain had needed reforming for an extremely long time. However, successive governments prevented or attempted to water down any reform that would dilute their power. By the late 1820s the economic distress and perceived militancy of the disenfranchised masses, plus the writings of the Utilitarians, was beginning to draw attention to the irrational political system that prevailed and that offered no uniformity in voting franchise. This economic distress was increased by high food prices as a result of the poor harvests of 1829 and 1830, which gave validity to radical advocate William Cobbett’s maxim that it was only people with empty stomachs that would be receptive to radical political reform. He claimed that: ‘Our heads are clear, when our stomachs are empty; and those, who, with full bellies, turned a deaf ear to every warning.’18 This deafness of the politicians led to the reform crisis in 1830–1832 that resulted in three reform bills that were hotly contested within Parliament. The end result was that of the 203 boroughs, 56 of the smaller boroughs were abolished, while the others were made more equitable in size and 130 new boroughs were established in England and Wales. Some of these boroughs had two representatives, while others only had one.19 One of the new seats to be created was Sheffield. Four candidates stood: John Parker, Whig; Samuel Greave, Tory; Samuel Bailey, Tory and James Silk Buckingham, Radical. In Buckingham’s election speech on 12 December 1832 he listed the 13 policies that he would be pursuing in Parliament. These included the abolition of slavery throughout the world, securing cheaper food, an increase in public open spaces, reform of the law to ensure that justice was swift and cheap for all, religious freedom, the shortening of the parliamentary term to three years and many other radical reforms for the time. His final policy was ‘The removal of the burdens that press so heavily on the poor: and generally, the promotion of the interests of the many, as of more importance than the interests of the few’.20 On 13 December, after the closing of the polls for that evening, groups of young men and boys gathered outside the Exchange, which contained the polls. They began throwing stones and breaking windows. The reason for this outrage is not clear; however, it eventually turned into a full riot and troops were called out. Shots were fired, resulting in at least five deaths and numerous injuries.21 After the final stage of polling on 14 December the two first members for Sheffield were announced to the assembly: John Parker and the radical James Silk Buckingham.22

15 George Douglas Howard Cole, The Life of Robert Owen (London: Frank Cass and Co Ltd, 1965), 201. 16 Eric J. Evans, The Great Reform Act of 1832 (London and New York: Methuen, 1983), 38. 17 Evans, The Great Reform Act of 1832, 5. 18 William Cobbett, Cobbett’s Political Registrar (London, 1817), 242. 19 For details of the reform crisis and Reform Bill of 1832 see Evans, The Great Reform Act of 1832 and Evans, Before the Reform Act: Politics and Society 1815–1830. 20 Borough of Sheffield, Companion to the Sheffield Election Polling Book, Containing the Requisitions to the Four Candidates; Proceeding of the Domination; Also of the Members of Both Houses of Parliament (Sheffield, 1833), 32. 21 Anonymous, ‘Election of Representatives for the Borough of Sheffield’, The Sheffield Independent, and Yorkshire and Derbyshire Advertiser, 15 December, no. 623 (1832). 22 Borough of Sheffield, Companion to the Sheffield Election Polling Book, 36–38.

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Buckingham travelled extensively and was a prolific writer, particularly on his travels. He published Travels in Palestine, Travels in Arabia, Travels in Mesopotamia and Travels in Syria and Medea as well as two volumes on Belgium, the Rhine, and Switzerland and France, Piedmont and Switzerland. He is known to have written over 80 volumes.23 He also established a political newspaper, entitled Sphynx, and a journal chiefly devoted to literature science and the arts, the Atheneam. He was invited to give a series of lectures on the Oriental lands and raised issues such as free trade with India and China. Buckingham was also was an adamant anti-slavery supporter, publishing The Slave States of America in 1842. His extensive travels and political and social activities were documented in a two-volume autobiography.24 For many years before his parliamentary career he had considered solutions to the national crisis of poverty and high mortality rates, and although he had campaigned for a political solution, it was not until 1849 that he published National Evils and Practical Remedies with the Plan of a Model Town, which he considered to be a practical solution that could be accomplished without political intervention. 2. National Evils and Practical Remedies with the Plan of a Model Town Owen’s plans for Villages of Unity and Cooperation were never comprehensive and they lacked essential details, such as the Village’s governance. However, Buckingham’s National Evils is extremely comprehensive, bordering on the ponderous, and he presented over 500 pages of the causes of, and solutions to, the national crisis. The book is divided into two main parts: the existing evils of society and the model town and associated community, with appendices on principles of taxation; emigration and colonisation, and the necessity of a new reform Bill for the purification of the electoral system. Buckingham considered that the national evils were not restricted to Britain and took an international approach. He believed that unity and cooperation between all nations was ‘written by the finger of God, as a belt around the globe we inhabit’,25 and that the commercial monopolies that existed instead of free trade hindered the progress of all nations. If free trade existed every nation would be fed and clothed, and would be able to sustain its own inhabitants. Competition and rivalry, instead of union and cooperation, impeded the progress of happiness of the nations and the individual. He was critical of political economists, for although they theorised on the best means for producing the greatest amount of wealth for both the individual and the nation, they overlooked all of the evils of competition. Buckingham claimed that: the far more important question of how best to promote the equitable distribution of the wealth actually created, so that its enjoyment should be spread over the largest surface and the greatest number of human beings, but essentially its producers, made to share most beneficially in the pleasures and advantages which its possession commands.26

Although he does not name Adam Smith’s theory of laissez faire he clearly implied that the production of wealthy of nations and individuals was at the cost of the producer’s and the labourer’s wellbeing and happiness. There were also repercussions for society: discontent led to the formation of unions that preached the doctrine of communism and instigated outbreaks of violence, such as the Luddites in England and the insurrection of workmen in Belgium and France. Monopolies and competition between nations could result in the evils of war and the futile loss of many innocent lives and the destruction of society. Buckingham believed that the ‘barbarians’ were kept as barbarians because of ignorance and that the civilised communities had become the sole possessors of knowledge. This knowledge was also restricted to 23 George Jacob Holyoake, History of Cooperation (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1905), 552. 24 James Silk Buckingham, Autobiography of James Silk Buckingham, Volume I (London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1855) and James Silk Buckingham, Autobiography of James Silk Buckingham, Volume II (London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1855). 25 James Silk Buckingham, National Evils and Practical Remedies, with the Plan of a Model Town (London: Peter Jackson, Son, and Co, 1849), 69. 26 Buckingham, National Evils, 76.

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groups in the civilised communities where there were millions of Britons, particularly among the humbler ranks, who were ignorant of reading and writing. Instruction and education would bring a child to the highest degree of perfection. With this instruction other evils could be resolved, such as national prejudices, and an understanding of their duties in society and the importance of the temperate society could be instilled. Buckingham supported temperance societies throughout England and believed that intoxication led to many of the social problems in the labouring classes. He claimed that the self-interest of the classes or individuals was often opposed to their duty in society. The accumulation of an individual’s wealth resulted in detrimental consequences for others. There was a need to reform the system so that the duty of the classes and individuals resulted in harmony with each other instead of opposition. Cooperation was a key factor to a solution to the national evils, ‘What is needed now, however, is cooperation for the poor:—not by them, for that, without some wealth to begin, is impossible,—but for them, by their more wealthy brethren, till they have the power to do it by themselves’.27 Buckingham stated that what was needed was a systematic paternalistic association that would be an improvement on the current system of monopolies and competition. This system should consider the components of happiness, which are perfect health in body and in mind; competent means to be able to procure an enjoyable life; moderate and agreeable labour and freedom from toil, progressive advancement and love and esteem in society. Buckingham perceived that the solution to the evils and the accommodation of the components of happiness were in the city or town’s environment. He proposed the formation of a company called the Model Town Association with the purpose of building an entire new town, called Victoria: to combine within itself every advantage of beauty, security, healthfullness, and convenience, that the latest discoveries in architecture and science can the English confer upon it; and which should, at the same time, be peopled by an adequate number of inhabitants, with such due proportion between the agriculture and manufacturing classes, and between the possessors of capital, skill, and labour, as to produce, by the new combinations and disciplines under which its code of rules and regulations might place the whole body, the highest degree of abundance in every necessity of life, and many luxuries, united with the lightest amount of labour and care, and the highest degree of health, contentment, morality, and enjoyment, yet seen in any existing community, established on the principles by which society is now generally regulated.28

Buckingham’s interest in self-sufficient villages had begun as early as 1819 when he described an Irish communal Moravian village in Gracehill in an article in the Calcutta Journal. The Moravians were a Protestant sect who used a formula for both planning and social organisation and had founded seven successful villages in England and Ireland between 1744 and the 1780s.29 He was also influenced by Owen and had discussed the Villages of Cooperation with Owen in 1826.30 While in America in 1837–1840, Buckingham had become interested in the cooperative communities of the Shakers and the Rappites. However, on deeper reflection, he wished to avoid the evils of communism, but he was deeply sensible of, and yet still retained all of the benefits of, association.31 He disagreed with Owen’s communistic communities and promoted a much more hierarchical society in a closed community. While Owen’s Villages of Cooperation were for the labouring classes, Buckingham promoted a more diverse and highly structured society that included all classes. This was reflected in the architecture and planning of the model town. There were many benevolent societies that would help the poor, such as the temperance societies, home missions, housing for the destitute with soup kitchens, all worthy associations and societies. However, Buckingham claimed that a more unified approach would achieve a better outcome and this could only be achieved through the unity of one new association. The Model Town Association would be incorporated by charter or Act of Parliament. The town would accommodate 10,000 inhabitants. There would be extra 27 Buckingham, National Evils, 80. 28 Buckingham, National Evils, 141. 29 Gillian Darley, Villages of Vsion: A Study of Strange Utopias (Nottingham: Five Leaves Publications, 2007), 149–150. 30 Batchelor, ‘The Origin of the Garden City Concept of Urban Form’, 191. 31 Buckingham, National Evils, 10.

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8.1 Ground plan of Buckingham’s model town Victoria Source: Drawn by Author from Buckingham 1849.

farmland around the town of 10,000 acres for agriculture. The town was only for the shareholders who had to have at least £20 of shares in the Association and be willing to subscribe to fundamental rules to be incorporated by the constitution of the town’s government.32 The town was to be built to a square plan, an enclosed space of a square mile, which consisted of eight concentric avenues (see Figure 8.1). The symmetrical design had four similar quarters. The eight avenues consist of five avenues of domestic buildings, which ranged from mansions in the centre that surrounded the central square, to the working class terraces on the outside of the square. The other three avenues were winter promenades and arcades with porticos that contained shops and workshops. Between the avenues were freestanding buildings that consisted of bathing facilities, reading rooms, schools and gymnasiums, 32 Buckingham, National Evils, 143.

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drawing rooms and dining rooms. In Victoria all dining was communal and the accommodation did not include kitchens. Towards the centre, between the avenues of the wealthy houses and mansions, were larger freestanding buildings that contained the churches, and the University and Museum. The eight avenues cut the town rectilinearly and triangularly. The number eight, the number of resurrection, featured strongly in Victoria, as there were eight avenues, eight concentric rows, eight fountains, and an octagonal tower. These eight avenues were named after the qualities that Buckingham believed would be instilled into Victoria: the Avenue of Unity; Avenue of Justice; Avenue of Faith; Avenue of Hope; Avenue of Charity; Avenue of Fortitude; Avenue of Concord and Avenue of Peace. Buckingham combined his practical solutions with an element of mysticism. The dwellings ranged in size and scale: apartments, suites of rooms, and entire dwellings. The rents ranged from £10 up to £300 per annum. The town would be built to the latest improvements in architecture, engineering and sanitary sciences. Throughout the town were covered galleries to shelter the walker from the rain, wind, dust, and sun. It would have wide open streets that would permit uninterrupted social intercourse. The arrangement of the buildings would add to the architectural beauty of the town. The town would have every improvement in its position, plan, drainage, ventilation, supply of water, light, and every other element of convenience that would improve. The manufacturing sector would be on the outskirts of the town so that it did not pollute the town itself. The land, housing and factories would be the property of the company and placed under trustees for security, as a Royal Charter or Act of Incorporation required. There were to be no taverns and all alcohol was prohibited. No weapons were to be brought into the town and the sanctity of marriage was to be held sacred. There was perfect freedom of religious opinions and an opportunity of all religious rights of worship without prejudice. However, only the Sabbath was kept free of labour for devotion and instruction, implying that there was only religious freedom for Christians. The health of the inhabitants of the town was a major concern to Buckingham. He believed that in England, ‘the most civilised and perfect country of the globe’, there was not a single town in the whole kingdom that could have claimed to have adequate drainage and most of the houses were not properly ventilated. The consequences were that, ‘premature deaths at all ages daily take place, and the very race itself becomes stunned and degenerated, from imperfect growth and development, arising from architectural and municipal defects alone’.33 Every dwelling, no matter how small, was to be furnished with a water closet, and the dwelling must be well ventilated and drained to be conducive for health. Public baths in sufficient number would be conveniently placed in each quarter of the town. Children would be provided for in suitable establishments and the greatest of care would be taken by personnel, who would be trained nurses. Medical care would be provided with no fees to the residents, both in hospital and in their houses. The concern of health was also reflected in the working conditions. No children were to be employed in any kind of labour that was unsuitable for their age or strength or that would be injurious to their health. Women were not to be employed in laborious occupations, such as carrying heavy loads or working in employment that required strength. Men would work for no more than eight hours, women no more than seven hours, children 15–18 years old no more than six hours, and work for children between ten and 15 years old was restricted to five hours, and below ten years old, four hours. In 1815, Owen had fought for a ten and a half hour day for children under 18 and six hours for children under ten years old.34 He failed to persuade the government in their Factory Reform Bill of 1815, and a 12-hour day, exclusive of meal breaks, became a provision of the Act.35 The Factory Act of 1833 had reduced the working hours of 14–18 year olds to no more than 12 hours, including a lunch break, and from ages nine to 13 years old, to no more than eight hours including a lunch break.36 In 1844, women and children between the ages of 13 and 18 years old were further reduced to ten hours a day.37 Thus, Buckingham’s recommendation of a maximum of eight hours a day for males was radical and well ahead of the eight-hour movement that was established in Britain in 1884. 33 Buckingham, National Evils, 110. 34 Robert Owen, The Life of Robert: Written by Himself (London, 1857), 28 and 41. 35 Owen, The Life of Robert, 31. 36 Government of Great Britain, The Factory Acts (London, 1855), 12. 37 Lemuel Danryid, History and Philosophy of the Eight-Hour Movement (London, 1899), 6–7.

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However, it was unlikely that agricultural or factory workers could afford to live in such a town. In the 1840s, an agricultural worker in Wiltshire earned nine shillings a week and a domestic labourer one shilling and sixpence a day.38 £20 for the shareholding was well beyond the reach of the working classes. Therefore, Buckingham arranged the finance through the company so that the agricultural worker or labourer could become a shareholder. Payment could be made over a period of 20 months at five shillings per week, ‘which, to one who spends no money on intoxicating drinks, would be easy to competition’.39 The overall cost of the project was £3,000,000 for the building of the town and £1,000,000 to stock the farms, factories and workshops, and with provisions for 10,000 people. Victoria was intended to make a profit for its shareholders; he perceived a 25 per cent dividend for the shareholders. He supplied the monthly minimum wages for the inhabitants and everything was in hierarchical order; there were ten classes, with three degrees with in each of these. The pay structure reflected the strength of the class system in Victoria; from third class ordinary labourers at £3 a month, first class professors or judges at £40 a month and the President of the Members’ Council £70 a month.40 The government of the town would be undertaken by a Members’ Council that would consist of the Governor and Ministers of Justice and Police; of Education and Fine Arts; of Health and Sanitation measures; of Agricultural and Rural Industry; of Manufacturing and Trade; of Progress, of Invention and Improvements, and of Revenue and Finance. The term of office would be fixed by a code or constitution that would be framed by the founders of the settlement. The fundamental principles of the Members’ Council were associated labour, proportional profits, temperance, arbitration and civic and religious freedom. The greater the number of shares the larger the individuals’ vote for the Members’ Council; however, the largest number of shares that could be owned was 500, to prevent the domination of the Council by the wealthy.41 To prevent overcrowding, the most efficient members of each ranking class would form a ‘Reserved Corps’ that would establish similar associations but on different scales, from 2,000 to 5,000 individuals. They might be formed and fostered as home colonies by the parent town. They would form the small satellites of the town. These model towns with their satellites in less than a century would appear all over the least populated parts of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales—‘absorbing the labour and every unemployed man, woman and child in the kingdom and reward them by a handsome remuneration’.42 This model town, Victoria, would be inhabited by a well organised community, it would: banish nearly all of the evils of disease, vice, crime, poverty, and misery, and hostility and antagonistic feelings, from among its members; and produce a larger amount of happiness than is possible to be obtained by the greater mass of humankind, according to the defective and ill organised arrangement of the present state of society.43

Victoria would fulfil the utilitarian mantra of the ‘greatest happiness of the greatest number’. 3. The Political Philosophy Buckingham was extremely well read and had a good understanding of every scheme of improvement that was available at the time. However, his influences are often made unclear by his own quotations, selecting small parts of the philosophy while neglecting the entire philosophy. For example, National Evils begins with quotations from ‘great thoughts of great minds’,44 instead of a dedication. On one page he quoted Adam Smith from the Wealth of Nations on the necessity of labour to the nation’s wealth, while on the next page 38 Joyce Burnette, Gender, Work and Wages in the Industrial Revolution Britain, Studies in Economic History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 74–75. 39 Buckingham, National Evils, 156. 40 Buckingham, National Evils, 212. 41 Buckingham, National Evils, 156. 42 Buckingham, National Evils, 153. 43 Buckingham, National Evils, 223. 44 Buckingham, National Evils, xi.

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he quoted Thomas Carlyle criticising Adam Smith’s ‘cold universal laissez faire’. It is equally curious as to whom he does not quote or mention. Although Buckingham did not agree with the communistic elements in Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation many elements of his community were clearly influenced by Owen. His education system and the care and maintenance of children; the placements of the factories and polluting industries outside of the town, and the communal living was a parallel pattern to Owen’s, with the exception of the class structure, but despite this influence he was barely mentioned and then only in a negative sense. However, there are stronger omissions, in particular, John Minter Morgan, William Thompson and John Arthur Roebuck. Morgan was an adamant supporter of Robert Owen after hearing him speak in 1817. In 1819, Morgan published Remarks on the Practicability of Mr Robert Owen’s Plan to Improve the Condition of the Lower Classes45 in defence of Owen’s plan for Villages of Unity and Cooperation. However, after Owen’s attack on the Church, Morgan became more conciliatory. In 1826, Buckingham and Morgan, both ardent Christians, met with the Owen to discuss the Villages of Unity and Cooperation46 as they wished to adapt Owen’s plan, but to integrate Christian principles into the plan. Nothing came of these discussions and it was not until 1830 that Morgan outlined his first plans for cooperative living. In Letter to the Bishop of London Morgan outlined four plans for communal cooperative living for four different classes. The first class was people with an income of up to £200, and they would be housed in a large college-like square in London surrounding a garden. The second class would be for the labouring classes and would be squares that would be erected within two miles of London for the convenience of their employment. The third plan was to supply the longterm unemployed with allotments so they would be able to supply themselves. The fourth plan was for those who were unable to help themselves and he suggested to the Bishop that the churches should be open through the weekdays for the purpose of instruction and direction by the clergy.47 It is in the second plan that he went on to develop his concept of self-sufficient villages. That same year other plans for communities became more prevalent; Stedman Whitwell published his plan for Owen’s Villages and political economist William Thompson published Practical Directions for the Speedy and Economical Establishment of Communities. Thompson envisaged small communities of 2,000 people forming a cooperative nucleus that would be funded by joint stock companies. Like Owen, Thomson believed that a new system of collectivism could be achieved in one district alone and did not require the entire country to convert to that particular political agenda.48 Thompson defined the method of cooperation as ‘the voluntary union of the industrious all productive classes, in such numbers as to afford a market to each other, for the mutual supply, directly by themselves, and all of their indispensable wants’.49 Owen credited Thompson with being the instigator of the cooperative movement in Britain, and with the publication of Practical Directions he was considered to be the most influential of Owen’s socialists.50 His influence, particularly on the concept of the joint stock companies, can be seen in both Morgan and Buckingham’s work. Morgan believed that the core principles for improving society were: 1) spiritual—the need for religious instruction; 2) intellectual—that there needed to be a great improvement in the education system and 3) physical environment—this applied to improvements needed in churches, schools and particularly in dwellings.51 In July 1842, Morgan presented a petition to both Houses of Parliament, as the market value of labour was so reduced that many were living at a subsistence existence. The petition was for a plan for the employment and support of 300 poor families. It contained a prospectus for one experimental establishment, to be nominated ‘The Church of England Agricultural Self-supporting Institute’. The committee who drew 45 Philanthropos (John Minter Morgan), Remarks on the Practicability of Mr Robert Owen’s Plan to Improve the Condition of the Lower Classes (London: Samuel Leight, 1819). 46 Batchelor, ‘The Origin of the Garden City Concept of Urban Form’, 191. 47 John Minter Morgan, Letter to the Bishop of London (London: Hurst, Chance and Co, 1830), 22–32. 48 Richard K. P. Pankhurst, William Thompson (1775–1833) Britain’s Pioneer Socialist, Feminist, and Cooperator (London: Watt and Co, 1954), 128. 49 Thompson, as quoted by Neil J. Smelser, Social Change in the Industrial Revolution: The Application of Theory to the British Cotton Industry (New York: Routledge, 2011), 378. 50 John F. C. Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America: The Quest for the New Moral World (London: Routledge, 2009), 51. 51 John Minter Morgan, Religion and Crime; or the Condition of the People (London: Henry Hooper, 1840).

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up the petition propagating Morgan’s plan consisted of distinguished clergyman.52 Self-supporting village would be established on not less than 1,000 acres, and the 300 families would support themselves and defray the expenses of the establishment. The chief employment would be agricultural, combined with handicrafts and mechanical pursuits. Morgan actively canvassed his plan not only to the politicians, but also in meetings in public halls. Although there was a great deal of interest by philanthropic societies and a large section of the church,53 the planned village was never begun. In 1849, he published The Christian Commonwealth; in this book he fully articulated his plan that he had been working and lecturing on over the last 25 years. The cover page revealed the appearance of a village that was similar to Owen’s plan, with the exception that a church was a dominant feature on the hill overlooking the village. No plans were provided, nor was there any explanation of the buildings. The members of the community would be shareholders in the community. They would sign a pledge that they were of respectable moral and temperate characters, and possessed the strength and industry that was required for such an undertaking. The shares were £20 each and the total capital required for the village was £60,000, with the residual to be collected from loans and donations.54 The village was for 300 families of the labouring classes, the cottages were to be of four rooms and cost £75 each; however, there would be two significant houses which would cost £3,000 and belong to the manager of the village and the clergyman. The manager was not elected by the people, but was an employee of the Institute who provided leadership and management. There are many similarities between Buckingham’s Victoria and Morgan’s Christian Commonwealth. The major differences are the diversity of classes and the scale of Buckingham’s plan. While Buckingham believed that an unforgiving hierarchy that existed in Victorian society was to be maintained in Victoria, Morgan promoted a more level and egalitarian society, albeit a managed one, in the self-sufficiency villages. Buckingham attempted to put his plan on a strong financial footing that would generate a profit for the shareholders as well as improving their quality of life. There was to be no dependency on donations. Loans would be strictly paid back over 20 months. Buckingham had complained that as a Member of the House of Commons from 1832 to 1837 reforms that he had introduced to the house were regarded as ‘visionary in the extreme’55 and that his projects were considered to be ‘utopian speculations’.56 In 1835, he introduced a Bill that would provide public walks and gardens, public baths, institutes, and museums, and these were intended to promote the health, enjoyment and instruction of the labouring classes. ‘It was opposed as ‘visionary and absurd’—laughed at by some, censured by others, were regarded with indifference by the rest, and finally defeated by a member of the Whig cabinet’.57 He also stated that what had been deemed as a ‘utopian and the visionary scheme’ in 1835 was now adopted by the House of Commons in 1845 and was extremely popular with all parties. However, in reality, all that was presented in 1845 was a report that presented evidence of a dismal tale of speculative building, land expropriations and civic indifference and although the parties agreed with the report, very little action was taken in reversing this dismal tale. Roebuck strongly believed that the creation of open spaces and parks was a natural remedy for the illnesses that were caused by the pollution of the factories, particularly in the poorer classes who lived in the most polluted areas and worked in the polluting factories. He had campaigned for green belts around towns and within these cities. His campaign had gained momentum in the early 1830s and was gaining support. Buckingham’s Bill before the House of Commons in 1835 promoted the creation of these recreational spaces, and he advocated for: authorising the appointment of certain Commissioners of Public Institution, in every city, borough, and town of Great Britain and Ireland: and empowering the said Commissioners, when so appointed, to make such assessment 52 Anonymous, ‘The Petition of John Minter Morgan, of Ham Common, Surrey, to Both Houses of Parliament’, William Thompson, Monday, 8 August, no. 2235 (1842). 53 W. H. G. Armitage, ‘John Minter Morgan’s Schemes, 1841–1855’, International Review of Social History 3, no. 1 (1958). 54 John Minter Morgan, The Christian Commonwealth (London: Phoenix Library, 1849), 46. 55 Buckingham, National Evils, xxi. 56 Buckingham, National Evils, xvi. 57 Buckingham, National Evils, xxii.

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on the rentals of their respective cities, borough, and towns, as a majority of the householders of the same may approve, for the purpose of approving public walks, playgrounds, baths and places of recreation in the open air; and for erecting public institutions, in the form of halls, lecture rooms, music rooms, reading rooms, libraries, and museums, for the instruction and entertainment of the inhabitants generally, as well as to afford places of meeting for business, and for rational and sober amusement to the labouring population and their families, without recourse to the tavern or public house.58

In an address to the electors of Sheffield in March 1835, Buckingham attempted to answer his critics in the hope of gaining support for the Bill. However, the majority of the Bill was on the restriction of taverns and public houses and the parks, walkways and gardens were also to be free of intoxicating drinks. He advocated in the Bill a national system of education so that children could be instructed and given ‘accurate information as to the poisonous and in the variably deleterious nature of ardent spirits’.59 Buckingham claimed that ‘the end at which I aim, is the increase of sobriety, health, morality, intelligence, and happiness among the labouring classes of the population. The means I desire to adopt, are partly restrictive and partly attractive’.60 Despite the failure of this Bill, Buckingham remained resolute that these changes could be made through political intervention and town planning regulations in the cities and towns. After 1837 there was a move away from the radical politicians and Buckingham lost the seat of Sheffield. He travelled to America observing and writing on all aspects of American life. He was very impressed by the Shaker communities, their lack of idleness, their productivity, their temperance, as well as the improvements in their possessions, and the neatness, order and perfection which characterised everything in these communities. In 1841 he wrote that Shaker communities supported: the soundness of the principal that cooperation is more productive of advantage to a community than competition, the history of the shakers furnishes an irresistible proof; and if this doctrine had been unmixed with any peculiarities of moral or religious views, it would have spread more widely; for the principal is no doubt sound itself, though often clouded and retarded with its progress, sometimes by having too little, and surprisingly too much of religious belief mixed up with it by its respective advocates.61

Morgan quoted this passage in The Triumph, or the Coming Age of Christianity and claimed that Buckingham was influenced by the Shaker communities in his design for a model town.62 Buckingham also considered the Rappite communities extremely successful, and claimed that their original community, Harmony, in Indiana, was plagued by mosquitoes and so they moved to a more favourable position in Economy Village, Pennsylvania. Buckingham visited Harmony, now called New Harmony, which Robert Owen had bought from the Rappites and interviewed the occupants to ascertain why the community had failed as a cooperative village. The inhabitants of New Harmony told Buckingham that Owen lacked any leadership qualities, and that he let people either work or not as they pleased, but there were more idle people than there were workers. Also, the church that had been built by the Rappites: was speedily converted into a temple of entertainment; and concerts, balls, lectures, and debates, succeeded each other almost every day. Magnificent plans were formed for buildings and improvements; but the sources of wealth being entirely neglected, and means of executing these plans could not be provided. The authority of the founder was no greater than that of any other man; and diversity of opinion led to disunion, so that the community gradually dispersed.63 58 James Silk Buckingham, Mr Buckingham’s Bill for the Promotion of Sobriety, Recreation and Instruction of the Labouring Classes (Hume Tracts, 1835), 7. 59 Buckingham, Bill for the Promotion of Sobriety, 3. 60 Buckingham, Bill for the Promotion of Sobriety, 4. 61 James Silk Buckingham, America, Historical, Statistic and Descriptive (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1841), 75. 62 John Minter Morgan, The Triumph or the Coming Age of Christianity (London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longman, 1851), 171. 63 James Silk Buckingham, The Eastern and Western States of America (London and Paris: Fisher, Son and Co, 1842), 210.

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Buckingham footnoted that he did not believe it was the fault of the cooperative communities, as they are ‘so desirable and advantageous’. However, the advocacy of morals and religion that was so opposed to public opinion and that was being put forth by the socialists undermined the principle of cooperation in labour. Buckingham served on the Committee of the Metropolitan Improvements Society when it formed in 1842.64 It was a philanthropic society that was open to the public by subscription of ten shillings a year. Although this committee was powerless in itself, it did lobby Parliament and the Prime Minister, which only generated more reports and no action. Buckingham’s attempt to implement his town planning reforms through the government and through philanthropic societies had failed. In National Evils, apart from the Model Town Association, which would be incorporated by a charter or Act of Parliament, the government had no role in the town. In the preface to National Evils, he emphasised that his schemes were not ‘utopian and absurd’ and that his plans were practical. Criticisms of Owen, Thompson and Morgan’s plans were that they were impractical, too expensive and the benefits would not justify the cost. Buckingham attempted to eliminate this criticism and not be branded as a ‘utopian’ by creating Victoria as a business proposition in the form of an association whose shareholders would have dividends returned to them. It would also be self-funding. He replaced what he perceived as Owen’s evils of communism and weak leadership with the benefits of association and an organised members’ council. Victoria was a mixture of Morgan’s self-sufficient Institute on a much bigger scale and Roebuck’s joint stock companies. Buckingham’s town planning that had been articulated in his Parks and Recreation Bill, sanitary policies and moral principles, and what he perceived as a sound economic basis. In the town planning, maintenance and management of the town of Victoria and its satellite towns, Buckingham achieved all that he set out to do as a Member of Parliament and within existing cities and towns, but unfortunately Victoria was never realised. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Buckingham claimed that he had planned and drawn the design of the model town during a stay in the little town of Rothesay on the remote Island of Bute.65 A front-plate reveals an etching of Victoria executed by James Bell and George Childs (Figure 8.2). This image reveals an exotic-looking city with a heavy Asian influence, with towers and minarets. The proportions are different to Buckingham’s description of the buildings. For example, the height of the octagonal tower was elongated to double its proposed height and many of the freestanding buildings are substantially larger than described by Buckingham. These exaggerations added to the exotic and picturesque style of the architecture. The picturesque village that was a concern of Gandy and other pattern book authors had become an interest not only of landholders, but had developed into a tourist trade. At the height of the Industrial Revolution and with the increase of urban slums, the continued enclosures and the depopulation of the countryside, there was a desire to see the ‘picturesque’ villages in the British countryside. Books that catered to the tourist, such as The Picturesque Tourist of Scotland, first published in 1833, and The Picturesque Tourist and Road Book of England and Wales, first published in 1838 by Adam Black, were reprinted approximately every five years until the end of the nineteenth century.66 These books supplied charts of roads, railroads and interesting locations with engraved views of the picturesque scenery and information on hotels and inns. Picturesque villages had been planned by landowners in the eighteenth century as part of the aesthetics and landscaping of their property.67 With the spread of pattern books from the end of the eighteenth century they became more prevalent; however, many of the villages became more standardised with the use of the pattern books. Many of these picturesque villages were built not only for the aesthetic value but also as an act of philanthropy. However, some villages were designed by well-known architects 64 Donald Leslie Johnson, Anticipating Municipal Parks: London to Adelaide to Garden City (Kent Town, South Australia: Wakefield Press, 2012), 175. 65 Buckingham, National Evils, 11. 66 Adam Black, Black’s Picturesque Tourist of Scotland. Sixteenth Edition (Edinburgh: Guide Books, 1868) and Adam Black, Picturesque Tourist and Road-Book of England and Wales (Edinburgh: Guide Books, 1851). 67 For an excellent summary of picturesque villages see Darley, Villages of Vision: A Study of Strange Utopias.

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8.2 Front-plate showing a perspective of Victoria with distorted proportions (from Author’s private collection) Source: Buckingham 1849.

such as John Nash and John Adey Repton, who designed picturesque villages for well-known landowners, and in the process, developed theories of the picturesque. While pattern book writers such as James Malton reflected the designs of past eras, particularly the Tudor era, later designers of the picturesque incorporated more exotic features into their designs. Different styles of architecture would sit side by side, a Tudor cottage, a Swiss chalet and a castellated Gothic-style house, or houses irregular in both their pattern and architectural design constituted what was considered the ‘picturesque’.68 This taste for the picturesque was not only preserved for the British village, the Royal Pavilion in Brighton with its external Mughal architecture and Chinoiserie interiors was the work of John Nash and Frederick Crace, begun in 1815 and completed in 1822. A visitor to the pavilion in 1820 claimed ‘How can I describe such a piece of architecture? This style is a mixture of Moorish, Tartar, Gothic and Chinese, and all in stone and iron’.69 This comment could have also described Victoria with the addition of the classical orders of columns that Buckingham used throughout the town. Buckingham carefully described each row, beginning from the outside. The first row contained 1,000 dwellings, with 250 on each side. The frontage of the dwellings was 20 feet, and each was attached to a 60-foot ornamental garden in the front and a 20-foot colonnade in the back. This colonnade and the intersecting angular streets had colonnades of ‘light Gothic Order’ (Tuscan Order).Then there was an open street 100 feet in breadth. The next row was a continuous covered arcade that was 100 feet wide and designed like Burlington Piccadilly and Lowther Arcade in West Strand, London. There were only one storey, but the central passage was illuminated from the top with glass windows. From here there was an open space of 150 feet breadth of lawn, and in this area there were six public buildings on each side that 68 Darley, Villages of Vision, 81–90. 69 Martyn Goff, The Royal Pavilion (London: Portfolio Miniatures, 1976), 19.

8.3â&#x20AC;&#x192; Ground plan of one quadrant of Victoria showing the placement of the buildings Source: Drawn by Author from the description in Buckingham 1849.

This area has been left blank intentionally. To view Figure 8.4 as a double-page spread, please refer to the printed version of this book

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were 100 feet × 50 feet each and two stories high. These contained the dining halls, restaurants, public baths, and reading rooms. In the next row were larger dwellings of 140 dwellings on each side, each with a 28-foot frontage, 56 feet deep and a garden of 74 feet in front with a colonnade of the ‘Gothic Order’ (Doric Order) of 20 feet wide. This was followed by an open street of 100 feet in breadth and then another arcade of the same design. From there was an open space of 150 feet breadth of lawn, in this area there were 16 public buildings, four on each side, that were 100 feet × 50 feet each and two stories high. Row Five had 74 dwellings on each side and each had a frontage of 38 feet, was 76 feet in depth and with a front yard of 84 feet. The colonnade at the back was 20 feet in breadth and of the Ionic Order. Following this was another open street 100 feet broad and the sixth row, and then another covered arcade that was followed by an open space of 150 feet and eight public buildings, two on each side. Row seven had 30 elegant houses on each side, each with a frontage of 54 feet, 100 feet in depth and 150 feet of garden in front. The colonnade at the back was of the Corinthian Order. Between the seventh row and the eighth was an open lawn of 300 feet in breadth, and here were the chief public buildings, churches, universities, museum and the gallery of fine art (Plate 21). Row eight had six mansions on each side, a frontage of 80 feet, and a depth of 150 feet with a garden of 150 feet in the front and the colonnade of the Composite Order in the back. The central square had four fountains on each diagonal street, which were 100 feet in diameter with a 50 foot jet of water. Similar fountains were at the entrance of the diagonal roads making eight fountains in all (see Figures 8.1 and 8.3). The octagonal tower was 100 feet in diameter and 300 feet high and contained ‘an electric light for lighting the whole town; a large illuminated clock; the bells for public worship, and other occasions; with apartments in each tower for the enjoyment of the air and view’ (Plate 20).70 Every street was lined with walkways to protect from both rain and sun (Plate 19). In 1921, Patrick Abercrombie claimed that the large amount of open spaces in Victoria would be quickly condemned by the housing commission,71 and the density was 15.6 people per acre,72 an incredibly low density. Buckingham claimed that the design of Victoria was very similar to the scheme that Sir Christopher Wren had presented to the King in 1666 for the reconstruction of London after the Great Fire. He stated ‘I perceive many remarkable coincidences between the proportions of his design, and those actually adopted in the model town, and for reasons exactly similar to those adduced by that great architect himself for the 70 Buckingham, National Evils, 191. 71 Patrick Abercrombie, ‘Ideal Cities – No. 2: Victoria’, The Town Planning Review 9, no. 1 (1921), 19. 72 John Rockey, ‘From Visionary to Reality: Victorian Ideals Cities and Model Towns in the Genesis of Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City’, The Town Planning Review 54, no. 1 (1983), 99.

8.4 Elevation of Victoria from the sixth row looking to the centre Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Buckingham 1849.

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changes he proposed’.73 These reasons were open spaces, sanitation, light and ventilation. However, he had not discovered Wren’s design until after he had designed Victoria. This strange mixture of Eastern and classical architecture, designed in Scotland to be built in Britain, presents a theatrical ambience for a rural town. However, according to Buckingham the published perspective drawing by Bell and Childs did give an idea of the character and appearance of such a town. 5. Conclusion Despite the fact that Victoria was never built, Buckingham’s National Evils was influential. There were factory owners who could see the benefits of providing good housing in a healthy environment for their employees. One of these employers was Titus Salt. Salt opened a large mill about three miles from Bradford. However, he hoped to protect his workforce from the cholera epidemics that were prevalent in the Bradford area.74 He built Saltaire between 1851 and 1872 and although it is the largest of several settlements developed by industrialists, it was a fraction of the size of Victoria. At its height it provided homes for 3,200 workers at his woollen mills. By 1872, there were 820 houses with four main streets and 21 minor ones. They were arranged in regular blocks with 16 two-storey cottages in each row. Salt built a school, almshouse, an institute, hospital and there were several churches of different denominations. The town also included a 14 acre park.75 Salt also was influenced by picturesque architecture and his mills’ designs were based on Italian Renaissance palaces. Salt had almost certainly heard both Morgan and Buckingham lecture in Bradford. Although Buckingham’s specifications were met only in specific places in Saltaire, the broad-fronted houses, the rows of two-storey terraces for workers and the three-storey terrace houses for executives and professionals, and the great deal of consideration given to ventilation, light and drainage, highlights the influence of Buckingham.76 Owen indicated that his Villages of Unity and Cooperation would proliferate across Britain as a preferred way of life as well as an economic solution. However, Buckingham fully articulated the idea of satellite towns to Victoria. His plan was extremely comprehensive and he specified the governance, financing and architectural plan for a model town that was to have a mixed economy of industry and agriculture. Despite his attempts to put it on a self-sufficient economic footing through a joint stock community run by an incorporated association the plan held little favour for the government of the day. Buckingham’s Model City built on Owen’s and Morgan’s villages, but his towns had a more hierarchical approach in their social and urban structure and resembled the early Renaissance urban plan concepts of Alberti and Giorgio. Although his plans did not eventuate in his lifetime and were considered ‘utopian and visionary’, nevertheless, Buckingham was extremely influential in later town planning movements.

73 Buckingham, National Evils, 196. 74 William Baly and William Withey Gull, Reports on Epidemic Cholera (London: Cholera Committee, Royal College of the Physicians of London, 1854). 75 Neal Jackson, Jo Lintonbon, and Bryony Stables, Saltaire: The Making of a Model Town (London: Spire Books Ltd, 2010). 76 Thomas A Markus, Buildings and Power: Freedom and Control of the Origin of Modern Building Types (London: Routledge, 2013), 294.

Chapter 9

Robert Pemberton—Queen Victoria Town

1. Background Amid the poverty and degradation caused by the advance of the Industrial Revolution in the first half of the nineteenth century there were also great advances in science, technology and education, and a rising middle class. ‘The Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of all Nations’ opened in London on 1 May 1851. The Great Exhibition epitomised the economic progress, democracy and social civilisation. The exhibits came from 28 nations that contributed to global solidarity. At its centre it showcased the British Empire’s achievements. The tickets to the Exhibition ranged in price and the price restricted the number of people attending the exhibition on that particular day. There were one shilling, five shilling, one pound and three guinea days. However, for the first few weeks the price did not go below five shillings, and The Times reported that the Great Exhibition was ‘in the hands of the wealthy and the gentry and noble birth’.1 The first one shilling day was on 26 May and was extremely controversial. Henry Mayhew described the reservations and the success of the one shilling days: For many days before the ‘shilling people’ were admitted to the building, the great topic of conversation was the probable behaviour of the people. Would they come sober? Will they destroy the things? Will they want to cut their initials, or scratch their names on the pains of the glass lighthouse? But they have surpassed in decorum in the hopes of their well-wishers. The fact is, the Great Exhibition is to them more of a school than a show. The working man has often little book learning, but of such knowledge as constitutes the education of life. [ … ] If we really desire the improvement of our social state, (and surely we are far from perfection yet,) we must add ourselves to the elevation of the people and it is because the Great Exhibition is fitted to become a special instrument towards this end, that it forms one of the most remarkable and hopeful characteristics of our time.2

The average number of visitors per day was 42,831, and on 7 October, the busiest day of the Exhibition, a one shilling day, there were 109,915 visitors. There were 13,938 exhibits.3 The Great Exhibition remained open for 141 days and in total it attracted 6,039,195 visitors.4 It was a phenomenal success. However, the largest and most dramatic exhibit was the building itself—the Crystal Palace. The Crystal Palace was designed by Joseph Paxton. His architectural interest stemmed from his profession as a gardener and his interest in greenhouses. The Crystal Palace was a prefabricated structure of wood, glass and iron. It was originally erected in Hyde Park, and its 92,000 square metres was designed to display the products of the world. Its cast-iron frame and plate-glass covering used the latest technologies developed in the Industrial Revolution. In a speech by Samuel Laing at the opening of the Crystal Palace he claimed that the Palace was ‘an entirely novel order of architecture, producing, by means of unrivalled

1 Jeffrey A. Auerbach, The Great Exhibition of 1851: A Nation on Display (New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 1999), 128. 2 Henry Mayhew, 1851 or the Adventures of Mr and Mrs Sandboys and Family Who Came up to London to Enjoy Themselves and to See the Great Exhibition (London: David Bogue, 1852), 161–162. 3 Anonymous, The American Annual Encyclopedia and Register of Important Events of the Year 1862 (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1863), 419. 4 Edward Cheshire, The Results of the Senses of Great Britain in 1851, with the Description of the Machinery and Processes Employed to Obtain the Returns; Also an Appendix of Tables of Reference, Abstract of a Paper Read before the British Association for the Advancement of Science, at Whole, on Tuesday, 8 September, 1853 (London, 1853), 45.

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mechanical ingenuity, the most marvellous and useful affects sprung into existence to produce a building’.5 This comment annoyed cultural critic John Ruskin, who retorted ‘we suppose ourselves to have invented a new style of architecture when we have magnified a conservatory’.6 However, Ruskin’s criticism did not dampen the enthusiasm for the Crystal Palace or for the Exhibition. It contained the world, or what was the Victorian concept of the world, in miniature. Exotic worlds were opened; not only to the wealthy, but to a vast number of industrial workers—the ‘shilling people’. Prince Albert wished to contribute a solution to the ongoing British housing crisis. In 1844, Albert had become president of the Society for The Improvement of the Condition of the Labouring Classes. He had commissioned architect Henry Roberts to build a model workman’s lodging house for the Great Exhibition on a patch of ground close to Knightsbridge cavalry barracks. Roberts was a founding member of the Society and had published The Dwelling of the Labouring Classes in 1850. This was followed by five other pattern books of housing designs. His designs for model houses for the working classes were widely disseminated and were influential in many parts of Europe as well as the British Isles.7 The Great Exhibition highlighted the new solutions and new technologies of the nineteenth century, and these were brought into the public arena. It appeared to be the age of scientific revolution that would supersede the problems of the Industrial Revolution. The catalogue for the Exhibition was in three volumes and over 1,450 pages long. All the manufacturing industries were represented; there were sections on the cotton, glass, furniture, upholstery and paper hangings, sculpture and modelling industries, as well as every industry of the nineteenth century. They not only displayed their wares but also their inventions. In the ‘Paper, Printing and Bookbinding’ section of the catalogue, Edwin Hill and Warren De la Rue’s envelope folding machine was described and illustrated. The Penny Post in England in 1850 delivered 347,000,000 letters annually. Prior to Hill and De la Rue’s invention, one experienced workman could hand fold 3,000 envelopes per day. This was now replaced by a machine that folded 2,700 envelopes an hour.8 The illustration in the catalogue showed two very young children operating the machine standing on a block in order to be able to reach the workbench. One child was also standing beside an uncovered steam-driven conveyor belt. One child fed the paper into the machine and the other removed the folded envelope. Feeding the paper into and out of the steam-driven machine that had two plungers stamping the folds depended on the dexterity and speed of the children. However, these horrifying and dangerous working conditions were not only accepted, but applauded, by Victorian society. The contrast between the riches of the Crystal Palace and the reality of the ‘shilling people’ was highlighted in the writings of Mayhew. In London Labour and the London Poor, published in four volumes between 1851 and 1861, Mayhew described the housing, employment, conditions of the streets, the agencies working in London, the crime, the street children, the prostitutes and every other aspect of London’s society.9 The image is a depressing one, and it highlights the grim reality behind the fiction of Charles Dickens. Mayhew also published a satirical novel on the Great Exhibition that was entitled 1851 or The Adventures of Mr and Mrs Sandboys and Family who came up to London to Enjoy Themselves and to see the Great Exhibition. The ‘adventures’ of the Sandboys family go from one disaster to another in their journey from the country to London to see the Exhibition. However, the novel built on Mayhew’s study of London’s poor and his contemporary commentary of the times. It has a description of the poverty in the city around the clothes market, in which ‘no other part of London—and, perhaps in no other part of the entire world—is such a scene of riot, rags, filth to be witnessed’.10 It also has one of the richest contemporary accounts of the opening, the visitors and the exhibits of the Great Exhibition. Mayhew considered the Great Exhibition as a public national expression to the dignity and artistic quality of labour. He claimed: 5 Laing, as quoted in John Ruskin, The Opening of the Crystal Palace: Considered in Some of Its Relations to the Prospects of Art (London: Smith, Elder and Co, 1854). 6 Ruskin, The Opening of the Crystal Palace, 5. 7 Howard Colvin, The Biographical Dictionary of British Architects 1600–1840 (New Haven, Connecticut and London: Yale University Press, 1995), 820. 8 Robert Ellis, Official Description and Illustrated Catalogue, vol. II (London: Spicer Brothers, Wholesale Stationers, 1851), 542. 9 Henry Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor (London: Dover Publications, 1968). 10 Mayhew, 1851, 101.

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Our ‘workmen,’ until within the last few years, we have been in the habit of looking upon as mere labourers—as muscular machines—creatures with whom the spinning-jenny and the power looms might be brought into competition, and whom the sense of fatigue, and consequent demand for rest, rendered immeasurably inferior ‘as producers,’ to the instruments of brass and iron. It is only within the last 10 years, perhaps, that we have got to acknowledge the artistic and intellectual quality of many forms of manual labour, speaking of certain classes and operatives no longer as handicraftsmen—that is to say, as men who, from long habit, require a dexterity of finger which fitted them for the ‘automatic’ performance of certain operations,—but styling them artisans, or the artists of our manufacturers. It is because we have been so slow to perceive and express this ‘great fact’—the artistic character of artisanship—that so much intellectual power has been lost society, and there has been so much more toil and is suffering in the world than there has been any necessity for. Had we, as a really great people, been impressed with the sense of the heavy debt we owe to labour, we should long ago have sought to acknowledge and respect the mental operations connected with many forms of it, and have striven to have ennobled and embellished and enliven the intellect of those several modes of industry that still remained as purely physical employments among us. Had the men of mind done as much for the men of labour, as these had done for those, we might long ago have learnt how to have made toil pleasant rather than irksome, and to have rendered it noble instead of mean.11

A series of lectures to the public was associated with the inventions displayed at the Exhibition. Many were held by the scientific bodies of the day.12 However, by 1851 Mechanics Institutes had been established throughout Britain for 30 years. These Institutes were originally established in Edinburgh in October 1821 to provide adult education in technical subjects to working men. The Institutes’ popularity grew very rapidly, and by 1826 there were over 104 Mechanics Institutes in existence. They were particularly popular in industrial areas.13 The Owenite movement had used the Mechanics Institutes as one of their venues for educational lectures, as well as lectures that were not on technical subjects, such as those explaining the importance of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation.14 Science and technology were very much at the heart of the Victorian world, and the spread of public education increased rapidly throughout the nineteenth century. The success of New Lanark and its education system highlighted the improvements that could be made. The first infants’ school in England was established in London in 1818, and was modelled on the school at New Lanark.15 However, although the school at New Lanark admitted children as soon as they could walk, in London the children returned to their parents in the evening. This was unlike the Villages of Unity and Cooperation, where once a child turned three years old they lived separately from their parents, a policy that was not fully implemented, and was very unpopular in New Harmony.16 John Minter Morgan’s selfsupporting villages had gained popularity with Christian socialists, and education was a key factor. One of Morgan and Owen’s disciples was Robert Pemberton who is often referred to as ‘the last Owenite’. He believed that mankind was perfectible through education, and that this education would invoke an entirely new society. In 1854, Pemberton published The Happy Colony. This name may have originated from New Lanark’s nickname of ‘The Happy Valley’,17 but although there are similarities with the education system of Owen’s, Pemberton took it further and in many ways it parallels Campanella’s City of the Sun—the design and architecture of the city embody and physically express the education system. 11 Mayhew, 1851, 129 12 Manufacturers the Society of Arts, and Commerce, Lectures on the Results of the Great Exhibition of 1851 (London: G. Barclay, 1852). 13 W. H. G. Armytage, Four Hundred Years of English Education (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 98–100. 14 Lloyd Jones, The Life, Times, and Labours of Robert Owen (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1890), 59. 15 Armytage, Four Hundred Years of English Education, 94. 16 John F. C. Harrison, Robert Owen and the Owenites in Britain and America: The Quest for the New Moral World (London: Routledge, 2009). 17 Robert Owen, The Revolution in the Mind and Practice of the Human Race; or the Coming Change from Irrational to Rational (London: Effingham Wilson, 1849), 20.

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140 2. The Happy Colony

The Happy Colony consists of three parts: Part One is a dialogue between a philosopher and a learned friend and relates the principles by which the Happy Colony would be established; Part Two is an address to the workmen of Great Britain, and is a dialogue between the delegates of the workmen and the philosopher, and Part Three is a description of the Elysian Academy or the Natural University for the Happy Colony that was to be founded by the workmen of Great Britain in New Zealand. The first series of dialogues, between the philosopher and his learned friend, established why the human race was unhappy and why there was so much misery in the world. The philosopher claimed that every child of man, rich and poor, was bred to slavery, ‘the worst kind of slavery, that of idleness and unproductiveness—the foundation of all slavery’.18 Pemberton claimed that in reality, it was nothing more than the: most artful and sinister mockery of freedom, as he is actually deprived of the fruits of his own divine strength and productive power by the many false mediums through which his productions are sifted before he can obtain the meanest subsistence [ … ]. The convention of all nations of making money the fundamental good, the first cause, the main principle of all their laws, and in fact the ruling power, causes it to become the idol which society is compelled to worship and to adore, and to pursue as the only means of avoiding extreme ignorance and degraded labour.19

This society was the Kingdom of Mammon, which was wealth, as it degraded labour, and this society condemned all to abject idolatry and slavery. The only way this slavery could be repealed was through education: not the education system of the Kingdom of Mammon, but through a natural system of education. Pemberton used the example of learning languages, particularly Greek and Latin, to highlight the differences between the new and the old system. In the old system of education there was a mass of lexicons and elementary books of all kinds and in all languages. There were enough to crush the minds of the philosophers, let alone the minds of children. The ‘book system’ had destroyed the natural system of oral education. Sound was the great power that harmonised the human race. The perversely named ‘silent book system’ was a natural system that made it possible to learn many languages, purely through sound.20 Sound and participation was the essence of the natural system of education. Pemberton’s anti-books position does seem to be a little peculiar, since in 1856 he established a book shop and classical library in Euston Square, London.21 In addition, he wrote 11 books and tracts, and even before The Happy Colony was published he had written three others: The Attributes of the Soul from the Cradle (1849); The Natural Methods of Teaching the Elements and Grammar for the Nursery and Infant Schools (1851) and The Natural Method of Teaching and Technical Language of Anatomy for the Nursery and Infant Schools (1852). These three books were specifically on teaching, but in The Happy Colony Pemberton took his ideas one step further by making his teaching method the heart of his social reform as well as his architectural plans. According to Pemberton, the old society was constituted by two opposing elements, wealth and labour, and these elements were being examined, as a political structure, by workmen in the various Mechanics Institutes throughout Britain. While the governing power was wealth, the power to be governed was labour. He claimed that the kingdom of wealth constituted the false principles and resulted in the oppression of mankind, and that it caused confusion and every sin, every error, all corruption, unhappiness and misery in every class of society. However, this could be corrected through the natural teaching method, which would perfect society. The true system of education would teach children in sciences, languages, labour, and love. For Pemberton: 18 Robert Pemberton, The Happy Colony (New York: Garland, 1985), 4. 19 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 10. 20 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 11. 21 John R. Rockey, ‘An Australasian Utopist’, The New Zealand Journal of History 15, no. 2 (1981), 166.

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the human mind is endowed with the germ of all that is excellent—with the germ of poetry, with the germ of music and painting, with the germ of mathematics, mechanics, and every other sciences—and with the germ of languages and all harmonies; and as soon as the infant mind is bred in these elements, the fructification of these germs will immediately take place, and the happy result therefore will surpass all that could be imagined.22

The book system had become an idolatrous worship that besotted the reasoning facilities, it could not perfect the mind and it could only be a stumbling block. Robert Owen had promoted the view that human nature was infinitely malleable and that society was also malleable through education—he believed that education could create a better, more moral and ordered society.23 However, the society that Pemberton desired was not only a more moral and ordered society; but it also consisted of human geniuses—humans that had been perfected by the natural teaching system that he propagated. According to Pemberton, one of the enslavers of society that prevented this development was the traditional religious doctrine of the Church, which promoted the concepts of purgatory and original sin. This false hypothesis of an imperfectible human race kept the human mind in bondage and slavery; thus the traditional church was on the side of wealth.24 The debate between original sin and perfectibility was a part of socialist thought, unconsciously or consciously, from the mid-nineteenth century to the mid-twentieth century.25 Unlike Owen, whose religious beliefs were ambivalent, Pemberton was deeply religious, although not in a traditional context. He strongly believed that God would not create something that was not perfectible. Pemberton was clearly an admirer of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and throughout The Happy Colony he described a society that echoed Rousseau’s famous phrase; ‘Man is born free, but is everywhere in chains’.26 In The Happy Colony ‘education is power’27 and power created a society that could break the chains. Pemberton described a dream he had: he was on the Isle of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In the evening the inhabitants played music and danced around a statue of Rousseau in the town square. After they had gone, he discovered a book entitled The Attributes of the Soul from the Cradle (his own first book) at the foot of the statue of Rousseau. He was so taken by the highly talented author that he immediately conceived of the idea for his great plan to form the Happy Colony. The dream supports that he was strongly influenced by Rousseau in the education and political content of The Happy Colony. In his dialogue with the delegates of the working men he explained the creation of a Labour Kingdom that would be grounded on the natural system of education, which was the only method of perfecting man and creating a society that would truly be grounded on the Christian principle ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself’. Philosophy and labour would be the two grounding powers of the society. However, this society could not be established in the old countries where wealth governed. The Happy Colonists should be settled in New Zealand, where 200,000 acres of land would be purchased. The land should be fertile and be in the neighbourhood of Taraniki, now called New Plymouth.28 Pemberton had not been to New Zealand and his choice of land was much criticised since it was earthquake-prone.29 It was also unlikely that Pemberton’s colonists could have purchase 200,000 acres in one block, since the New Zealand Company that acted as the government agency and who offered land to immigrants for one pound an acre had a policy of integrating Maori lands with that of the settlers.30 These 200,000 acres would be divided into ten equal towns so that it possessed the means of social and interactive intercourse for the 100,000 inhabitants of the ten cities. The fundamental principle of the Colony was that the land and the labour of the workforce combined in society constituted all the wealth and was the only rational foundation for the progress and perfection of man. Pemberton believed that the workmen of 22 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 17. 23 Robert Owen, A New Society and Other Writings, ed. Gregory Claeys (London: Penguin, 1991). 24 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 70. 25 Andrew Hacker, ‘Original Sin vs Utopia in British Socialism’, The Review of Politics 18, no. 2 (1956). 26 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, On the Social Contract and Other Political Writings (London: Penguin Classics, 2012). 27 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 107. 28 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 77. 29 E. H. McCormick, ‘The Happy Colony’, Landfall: A New Zealand Quarterly, no. December (1955), 317. 30 Rockey, ‘An Australasian Utopist’, 173–174.

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9.1â&#x20AC;&#x192; Perspective drawing of one of the 10 cities of Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

Britain were greatly admired throughout the world, as had been seen in the Crystal Palace with the display of â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;their beautiful fabrics, splendid machinery, and production of every kind finding their way into every nook and cranny in the entire globeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;.31 However, in the Kingdom of Mammon labour was the labour of slavery and not that of freedom. According to Pemberton: the making, training, and forming the human mind must be conducted according to the organic laws in nature and art, in the manner as a beautiful Temple, Mansion, or splendid stream-ship must be formed according to the organic laws of construction.32

This first Happy Colony was to be called Queen Victoria Town. Pemberton provided two perspective drawings of his city that were designed by architect Robert William Armstrong (Figure 9.1). In nature, the grand forms are round, such as the stars, the moon, the planets, the human form, animals, trees and most organic forms. Therefore, the city was to be circular, since this was the most natural form and the most scientific plan that 31 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 64. 32 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 67.

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could be adopted. ‘Right angles are opposed to harmony of motion, and in a town there must be motion; therefore the best method for free circulation of man and beast must be adopted’.33 There would be no crooked lanes, angles, narrow streets or nasty courts and impasses. The city was to be a mile in diameter and perfectly round, and he took the form of rings of agriculture surrounding the first and main circle. In the first circle, of about 50 acres, was the Natural University, or the Elysian Academy. Pemberton’s system consisted of 21 years of education, from the cradle to 21 years of age. This education consisted of three stages of seven years each. In the first seven years students would be taught languages and the nomenclature of all sciences in nature and in art. They would also learn simple tasks, such as sewing, plaiting, netting, splitting willow and basket making, and exercise the body in running and walking. In the second stage, from seven to 14 years of age, they were to have practical lessons in the manual arts that were valuable to man, but they also continued learning languages and all of the intellectual knowledge in art and nature, as well as the art of dancing. The third stage, from 14 years to 21 years of age, not only perfected all of the manual arts but also the sciences and languages. Pemberton outlined the curriculum, which included an amazing array of manual and intellectual topics that would be taught through participation and sound; a gruelling agenda. In the centre was the Infant Temple. The architecture was clearly an adaption from the design of Paxton’s Crystal Palace. However, the grounds also became part of the education system. A major part of the curriculum in the first stage was ‘play’, but this was not the frivolous play of childish games. In the Infant Temple ‘play’ was considered to be nothing more than exercise and love of action and movement, but this would be directed to a learning agenda. It was the business of the trainers to regulate and make use of the love of exercise and action in the acquisition of knowledge of science. In the grounds of the 50 acres were horticultural maps of the earth and the seas as well as the celestial maps. The children could walk around these maps, learning the names and the divisions of the earth and the heavens. They would learn the names of rivers and towns as well as the streets by moving through these elaborate three-dimensional maps. By experiencing these tactile maps they would improve their knowledge of geography and astronomy as well as systems of geology. The Crystal Palace of the Infant Temple, unlike the Crystal Palace of the Great Exhibition, was interactive. Museums in the Infant Temple contained models that could be pulled apart and put back together again by the students. There were two circular labyrinthine groves; the first was universal biographies. The student would be led around the grove and descriptions and explanations of each individual were presented by the teacher. The second grove was on heathen mythology and ancient literature, and would be read to the students. Each of the rooms in the buildings in the Infant Temple would be designated for different subjects, and for the 21 years of their education the students would interact with the models and their teachers. There was also the most modern equipment to assist their learning: the exhibitions of artworks from all over the world were seen through plaster-cast models and the use of the magic lantern. The children would learn everything from the art of thatching and bricklaying to Plato and Vitruvius, as well as being fluent in several ancient and modern languages. The students would be capable of creating a society that would surpass the old society that was run by one elite group—an unproductive group. However, the students from the Infant Temple would have the power to elevate the people and to constitute their strength, since the natural system was derived from creation. Pemberton strongly believed ‘All systems which degrade men dishonour the creator’.34 The plan shown by Pemberton was for one circular city (Figure 9.3), but he planned to have ten of these cities in one continuous 200,000 acre plot of land so that it possessed the means of social and interactive intercourse for the inhabitants of the ten cities. The reason that there were several cities was that the infants from each town would be trained in different groups and since these groups were like brothers and sisters to each other they would need to marry outside the group. Everything in the city was commonly owned, and there was no private property. Between these cities there was an excellent road system and transport between towns and the city was to be self-sufficient. Although it was not specified that it was a temperate society, there were no public houses; no markets were required as there were no buyers or sellers, and there were no prisons since there would be no crime. There would be no hospitals, since there would be no poor people, if an inhabitant was sick they would be attended to in their own home, which would be spacious, comfortable and have every modern facility. 33 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 81. 34 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 107.

9.2â&#x20AC;&#x192; Aerial view of one of the cities of the Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

9.3â&#x20AC;&#x192; Ground plan of one of the cities of Happy Colony Source: Drawn by Author from Pemberton 1985.

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The governance of these cities is unsatisfactorily described in his dialogue as a utopian government. He claimed that: Utopian is simply the government of the human race by rational labour instead of wealth, so that under such a government man would be social and happy, and would possess the perfect enjoyment of his existence, both mentally and bodily, by reason that his corporal state and his mental state could both be brought to the highest possible perfection.35

Apart from this description of governance he claimed, in a similar fashion to Owen, that the Happy Colonists were to obey the laws of the country, and the rules and by-laws of their own society that they adopted and found necessary.36 It appears from his description that each Happy Colony would have its own rules and by-laws. In The Happy Colony Pemberton did not quote or mention Robert Owen. However, he did quote Morgan’s The Christian Commonwealth at some length, with the quote pleading a case for some levelling of society between the rich and poor.37 In To the Bishops and Clergy of all Denominations and to all Professors and Teachers of the Christian World, published in 1855, Pemberton shared Morgan’s hope that the established Church would support the self-sufficient villages.38 He also mentioned two works of John Bosworth, The Necessity of the Anti-pauper System (1829) and Misery in the Midst of Plenty (1833) that promoted an overhaul of the Poor Laws and allowances system, which were inequitable and in many cases increased poverty and social problems. At the end of The Happy Colony Pemberton turned to a Malthusian world view that the increase in population would cause famine and would be unsustainable. He claimed: Now, excess population will cause the same destruction in England as it did Ireland. England has not only reach the maximum of population, but already exceeds it by many millions: so that she is compelled to import millions of quarters of corn, besides flour, meal, and provisions of every description; and all this is to support her over growing population, which has doubled itself during the last 50 years. Imagine, then, what will be the fearful consequences thereof in the course of another 50 years! The fatal crisis will arrive, notwithstanding the tide of emigration.39

He urged for the settlements of Happy Colony not only for their own sakes but to prevent famine and disease in the Motherland. Throughout The Happy Colony Pemberton did not mention the main production of this Labour Kingdom. He stated that ‘Happy Colony will be a rus in urbe, that is, town and country united in one’.40 Thus, presumably it had a mixed economy, such as Owen’s and Buckingham’s; however, he also stated that he wanted to avoid the ‘wasteful occupations of life’ of the cities; perhaps he was referring to entrepreneurs, politicians, bankers and others from the idle classes. Another large oversight in The Happy Colony is that he gave no costing for the establishment of the settlement, unlike Owen, Buckingham, and Morgan, who all costed their projects. With the price of one pound per acre from the New Zealand Company it would least need £200,000 for the land plus at least the same again and probably more for the buildings and other works. From Pemberton’s description of The Happy Colony it would be more like a university town, where the business of the town was education. However, the new Happy Colonists were dependent upon architecture to structure the routine of this education.

35 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 88. 36 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 111. 37 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 208–209. 38 Robert Pemberton, An Address to the Bishops and Clergy of All the Nominations and to All Professors and Teachers of the Christian World on Robert Owen’s Proclamation of the Millennial State to Commence This Year (1855) (London: Saunders and Oxley, 1855). 39 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 216. 40 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 142.

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3. The Political Philosophy Pemberton was primarily an educator. His first book, The Attributes of the Soul from the Cradle, outlined his theories of education, arguing that man could be perfected and society changed through the natural education system, which promoted interaction and participation with a tutor rather than learning from books. He strongly believed that the natural system was drawn from Creation and God, who could not create irrational creatures; man was born perfectible but was corrupted by society. With each progressive book or tract the message was the same, except the anti-book education message became stronger. Pemberton considered that traditional education was one of the identified causes of the corruption of society, along with wealth, and had created the Kingdom of Mammon. He published The Attributes when he was 60 years old,41 and the remainder of his 11 books and tracts were published over the next ten years. Initially, his early works did not consider a city or colony. However, as his message became stronger it became the clear consequence of his education system, since his system heavily relied upon a closed environment away from what he perceived to be corrupt elements. The Kingdom of Mammon could not live side by side with the Natural University and the Kingdom of Labour. Pemberton seemed uninterested in any political structure for his colony, and although many of his associates, such as Morgan and Owen, were openly aligned with the socialist movement, Pemberton appears to have had no such aspirations—The Happy Colony was only a framework for his education system. However, it is clear that he did not trust the politicians of Britain. He claimed: Yet in the midst of these vast evils of society, our misguided and unenlightened politicians amuse themselves, and deceive the people about rotten boroughs, the franchise, and political changes, merely scrambling for the reins of government.42

Even 25 years after the political reforms of 1832, Pemberton believed the reforms were just deceiving the people about the true situation. By the time of the publication of The Attributes in 1849 a great deal had been written on the education of children. There are some clear influences in Pemberton’s policies. Owen’s A View of a New Society was a clear influence in the overall scheme; however, Owen’s curriculum was more practical and did not consider the teaching of ancient languages, literature and religions. In 1797, the Swiss educational reformer Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi published Enquiries into the Course of Nature in the Development of the Human Race, originally written in German but translated into English in 1831 by Edward Biber.43 In his curriculum young children were taught German, French, Latin and Greek, along with geography, natural history, mathematics, geometry, drawing, surveying, literature, writing and singing. Pestalozzi was an admirer of Rousseau and wished to promote the welfare and happiness of people through education. He strongly believed that the value in civilisation was the full range of human capacities that integrated the hands, the head and the heart. This was a very similar concept to Pemberton’s. The significant difference in their systems was that Pestalozzi worked with children’s individual talents, while Pemberton worked with the collective and believed that everybody could be perfected to the level of genius. From the 1830s Morgan had lectured at the London Mechanics Institute on education; in particular, on the Pestalozzi system. He had printed letters on early education from Pestalozzi’s chief English disciple, James Pierrepont Greaves, who had taught with Pestalozzi in Yverdon, Switzerland, where he had met Robert Owen in 1818.44 It is clear that Pemberton was an admirer of Morgan; but the admiration was reciprocal. In 1851, Morgan published The Triumph or The Coming Age of Christianity. In this volume he praised Pemberton’s The Attributes and the system of education he promoted. Morgan claimed that 41 Rockey, ‘An Australasian Utopist’, 162. 42 Robert Pemberton, An Address to the People, on the Necessity of Popular Education, in Conjunction with Immigration (London, 1859), 6. 43 Edward Biber, Henry Pestalozzi and His Plan of Education: Being an Account of His Life and Writings (London: J. Souter, 1831). 44 Mark Dudek, Kindergarten Architecture (New York: Routledge, 2000), 32.

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Pemberton’s education system would bring man closer to God and Creation.45 Morgan died the year The Happy Colony was published and he left no recorded comments on the concept of Pemberton’s Colony. There can be little doubt that he would have agreed in principle, but perhaps not in detail. Morgan’s selfsufficient communities were pragmatic, costed and within the realms of possibilities; they are far from the extravagant and lavish buildings and landscapes of the Happy Colony. On Owen’s eighty-fourth birthday in 1855 he gave a speech on the importance of education—a proclamation of the millennial state in which he outlined their importance and reiterated his concept ‘that the character of every human being is formed for and not by him’.46 In response to this speech, Pemberton published An Address to the Bishops and Clergy in 1855. He claimed that Owen’s proclamation announced the true discovery of training the child and that it would develop the natural gifts and energy of every child and would produce true universal wealth and happiness.47 Although Pemberton had followed Owen’s philosophies, they did not meet until the end of 1855. In his old age Owen had converted to spiritualism, which contradicted his life-long insistence on logic and rational thought. In a letter to Prince Albert, Owen wrote that the spirit of the Duke of Kent, Queen Victoria’s father who had died in 1818, had directed him to meet with Pemberton in Oxford the next week to give him instructions on how the Happy Colony would be completed. Owen claimed ‘I find Mr Pemberton more advanced in a knowledge of these all important subjects than any one now living’.48 However, in a speech that same year he pointed to his prior knowledge and practices of these systems. He praised Pemberton’s: ideas of education are true, beautiful, and with himself perfectly original; but he knew not that I had applied the essence of them to practice more than 20 years before the idea had occurred to him. But hearing all the religions condemning me and all my measures and proceedings, they made him like the millions who are already led like sheep, afraid to look into my writings, or to enquire what had been done. It was well; for his original mind, after much deep thinking, came in part to the same fundamental conclusion that I had done so many years previously.49

The emphasis of this discussion was on the education system and not utopian cities. There are many differences between the Happy Colony, Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation, Morgan’s self-sufficient villages and Buckingham’s model town. One noticeable difference is in the mystical language of Pemberton’s writings, which became more mystical with each of his books. The cities of Owen, Morgan, and Buckingham were pragmatic attempts to solve critical social problems and the poverty that stems from unemployment. Pemberton’s The Happy Colony was closer to the mysticism and ground plan of Campanella’s City of the Sun than any of his nineteenth century contemporaries. Pemberton wanted to build a Natural University in the form of Crystal Palaces for the British working man. This mystical language and the praise of labour were brought into the public arena by Mayhew and Great Exhibition. Mayhew had highlighted the housing and employment problems in his London Labour and London Poor. He was a well-known journalist and one of the co-founders of Punch in 1841. In 1851, he highlighted and idealised the success of the British labourer: The Great Exhibition and the Works of Industry and Art of all Nations is, then, the first attempt to dignify and refine toil; and, by collecting the several products of scientific and aesthetic art from every quarter of the globe into one focus, to defuse the high standard of excellence among our operatives, and thus to raise the artistic qualities of labour, so that men, no longer working with their fingers alone shall find that which

45 John Minter Morgan, The Triumph or the Coming Age of Christianity (London London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longman, 1851), 247–248. 46 Robert Owen, The Life of Robert: Written by Himself (London, 1857). 47 Pemberton, An Address to the Bishops, 16. 48 Robert Owen, ‘Letter to Prince Albert Dated 10 October 1855’, in Owenite Socialism: Correspondence II: 1839– 1858, ed. Gregory Claeys (Abingdon: Routledge, 2005), 366. 49 Robert Owen, Address, Delivered at the Meeting in St Martin’s Hall (London, E. Wilson, 1855).

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is now mere drudgery converted into a delight, their intellects expanded, their natures softened, and their pursuits ennobled by the process.50

Mayhew’s writings and the Great Exhibition highlighted their productivity and creativity. It brought the ‘shilling people’ into a new public arena. The skills and products of the British labourer were now a matter of national pride and on show to the world. The shilling days were slow to begin with; the expected crowds did not come. However, after a while, and through word of mouth of the splendours the Exhibition held, the shilling days became extraordinarily popular. ‘They soon began to see that the Great Exhibition, rightly considered, is a huge Academy for teaching the nobility of labour, and demonstrating the various triumphs of the useful arts over external nature’.51 Out of the 6,039,195 visitors, over 4,500,000 were shilling people. Instead of crowding the central hall they were more interested in the remote areas of the Crystal Palace, in the exhibits of the machinery and manufacturers rather than the finery of the nave.52 Mayhew pointed to the great fallacy of the age, which was that reading and writing were an education. He pointed out that reading and writing were merely a means of acquiring information and that there were other skills to be required. He claimed that: if we would really make people wiser and better, we must make them acquainted with the laws of the material, mental, and moral universe in which they are placed, and upon which their happiness is made to depend. A knowledge of the laws of matter enables a man to promote the physical good, of the laws of the mind, the intellectual good—and the laws of the higher, the moral good, boasts of himself and his fellow creatures.53

However, Mayhew also warned that although the Great Exhibition had instilled pride in the labourer and had changed the perception of the labourer from a ‘muscular machine into intellectual artist’, this was useless since the want of skill was being beaten out of them by the market. He gave an example of a master shoemaker into London who told him that most of the skilled shoemakers were fast disappearing and being replaced by child workers. ‘The bad are destroying the good, instead of the good improving the bad’.54 There were many thousands of industrial workers that could not afford a shilling and were supported by philanthropic societies, landed proprietors in remote rural areas and clergymen. They were reported as being ‘industrious, grateful, well-behaved and admiring people’.55 Domestic servants took days off, without pay, to see the Great Exhibition. Country labourers that had to travel great distances, children from London orphan asylums and assisted emigrants on the eve of their departure were reported as attending the Exhibition.56 The rows of carriages that lined the route to the Crystal Palace in the first few weeks were soon replaced by lines of pedestrians. After the Great Exhibition, the Crystal Palace was dismantled in Hyde Park and rebuilt on Penge Common on Sydenham Hill. It continued to be a popular exhibition space until 1936, when it was destroyed by fire. The Great Exhibition in Hyde Park made a profit of £186,000 and this money was directed to building South Kensington Museum, founded in 1852 and now known as the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was officially opened in 1857 by Queen Victoria. The newspapers reported: ‘Everything has been done to render the new museum a source of instruction and amusement to all classes alike, the exigencies of time being taken into consideration, as well as the exigencies of the pocket.’57 The mood of the country was to further Britain’s scientific development by embracing education and to make it more equitable and attainable to all classes. 50 Mayhew, 1851, 131. 51 Mayhew, 1851, 155. 52 Auerbach, The Great Exhibition of 1851, 156. 53 Mayhew, 1851, 157. 54 Mayhew, 1851, 158. 55 Anonymous, ‘The Great Exhibition’, Illustrated London News, 31 May(1851), 501. 56 Kylie Message and Ewan Johnson, ‘The World Within the City: The Great Exhibition, Race, Class and Social Reform’, in Britain, the Empire, and the World at the Great Exhibition of 1851, ed. Jeffrey A. Auerbach and Peter Hoffenberg (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 40. 57 Anonymous, ‘The South Kensington Educational Museum’, Journal Of Education Wednesday, 1 July, no. 7 (1857), 101.

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The Great Exhibition and the resulting museum in South Kensington showed the achievements of Britain, the most powerful country on earth. However, although this was the desire, the reality was that the national crisis had not changed and despite the praise of labour, the poverty of the labourer remained. To Pemberton, the only way forward for the working man was to leave this Kingdom of Mammon. In The Happy Colony there was a change from Pemberton’s previous three books. His education system was originally designed for all classes, although he did emphasise the need for the working man to be educated. However, The Happy Colony’s plan was directed at the British working man and the Labour Kingdom only. The architecture of this Labour Kingdom was the Crystal Palace, which exhibited the products of the British workman for the admiration of the world.58 In his final publication, An Address to the People on the Necessity of Popular Education in Conjunction with Emigration, published in 1859, he again repeated his theories of education and its importance. For Pemberton, the book education system had failed and had not kept up with the amazing technologies of the nineteenth century, which were continuously moving forward scientifically. Another great feature in the restless movement of the present age, is the springing up of the Crystal Palaces; Paxton was the genius in that line; however, public exhibitions and museums of every possible variation, containing specimens of nature and art, possess no civilising or educational power over the people, although mechanical arts may be improved by comparison, by those who have had to do with them; sight-seeing and a day’s pleasure, impart no real knowledge, and although Crystal Palaces and their spacious grounds may contain ample space, as well as objects of art, for instruction, they are at present only popular show places.59

The new museums that had sprung up after the Great Exhibition, which Pemberton called Crystal Palaces, were extremely popular with the public. However, Pemberton renounced these Crystal Palaces as being part of the book education system that did not stimulate or engage people. He wished to build new Crystal Palaces and he proposed to establish the People’s Shilling Company to build them. He claimed that the people’s shilling that kept the Crystal Palace at Sydenham in existence should go to the creation of the People’s Crystal Palaces. But when the People’s shilling shall be applied to establish their own crystal palaces, infant operas, theatres, all schools within popular education will be carried out to the full extent of the newly developed system, then they will become of real value to the human race, and they will spread and multiply all over the world and will thus immediately open up new fields for commerce and trade, and occupation for all grades of society. Man is the living steam engine, but we have not yet commenced the varied and glorious use to which he can be applied.60

The Crystal Palace was to be the symbol and basis for the architecture of Pemberton’s education system. It was an architecture that had captured the imagination and pride of Britain. To a large extent it had empowered the labouring classes with the pride that had been celebrated in Mayhew’s writings. Mayhew wrote ‘the Great Exhibition is a higher boon to labour than a general advance in wages’.61 For Pemberton, universal education was to be by ‘spiritual transformation’62 and it would be natural, practical and delightful. The new Crystal Palaces would empower the human race to ‘beauty, value, and the holiness of labour’.63 In his final book, the language was mystical and deifies the labour that was to be housed in the new cathedrals—the Crystal Palaces. Pemberton made his appeal to the working man of Great Britain, and most importantly the agricultural and farm workers, to buy shares in the People’s Shilling Company, which would form societies of Crystal Palaces in the new lands of Britain’s colonies. He no longer used the expression the ‘Happy Colony’; it had been replaced by the expression ‘Crystal Palaces’. If the land in New Zealand was to be £200,000 and the plan in The Happy Colony was carried out, a conservative estimate for the buildings of each of the cities would be £200,000—at 58 Pemberton, The Happy Colony, 64. 59 Pemberton, An Address to the People, 6. 60 Pemberton, An Address to the People, 6. 61 Mayhew, 1851. 62 Pemberton, An Address to the People, 7. 63 Pemberton, An Address to the People, 10.

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least 44 million shilling shares would be required. At the end of An Address to the People Pemberton stated that a prospectus would be shortly issued to form the first company. However, no such prospectus was ever published. Although it was his last published book, it does not appear that it was the last book he wrote. Pemberton had bought some land in New Zealand, but by 1874 he wrote to his son, Charles, who was living in New Zealand at the time, and gave him permission to sell this land on his behalf. He required money to publish his last work on the science of teaching an infant audience universal knowledge. This work was never published and Pemberton died in 1879. His daughter Bessie wrote Charles in 1874; ‘Father has gone back to his old subject, and still writes, it diverts his mind … He now writes almost a repetition of the same thing, page after page…’64 Unfortunately, this work has not survived so it is impossible to say whether he continued to build theoretical Crystal Palaces. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Robert William Armstrong was the architect for The Happy Colony and he supplied two perspective drawings and a front-plate (Figures 9.1, 9.2 and 9.3). He does not appear in the professional register of the Royal Institute of British Architects, London.65 However, a brief biography is listed in The Biographical Dictionary of British Architects 1600–1840,66 and at least one of his works was acknowledged in a contemporary architectural periodical, The Builder. He was clearly an active architect of the mid-nineteenth century. Armstrong had experience in designing at least one school that was an ecclesiastical reconstruction from the Middle Ages and built for the Society of Friends, Bristol.67 In The Happy Colony he reconstructed the Crystal Palace with classical porticos. However, instead of the rectangular structure of the original Crystal Palace, it was curved to suit Pemberton’s circular city. Pemberton rejected the parallelograms of Owen and the squares of Buckingham, claiming that the circle was more natural and better for circulation between the cities, and therefore suitable for the Natural University. Everything was based around the concentric rings in the Happy Colony. Unfortunately, although the centre ring was extremely well explained and defined, the outer rings were not. The perspective drawings by Armstrong gave a sufficient idea of the architecture and layout, but not the purpose of the buildings. In the central ring were the Infant Temple and the Natural University’s four colleges, which are described in detail (Plates 22, 23 and 24). Each of the colleges had adjoining conservatories, workshops, swimming baths and riding schools. Between the classical buildings were the terrestrial and celestial maps, and circular groves that embody the history of the world, the Muses, heathen mythology and models of geometrical forms. The next two rings were substantial buildings that appear from the images to be residential, followed by a ring of gardens and then another residential ring. Outside of those rings the outer rings were cultivated lands and had small buildings that could possibly be factories or farming utilities. The difference between one of the perspective drawings of the city and the front-plate is the number of rings outside of these domestic buildings. The front-piece has two other rings while the perspective does not show a full image of the city, but does show at least four other rings. Given that the diameter of the city was only a mile, the two rings of the front-plate are far more feasible and the reconstruction that follows has used two rings. It is often stated that Pemberton was influenced by Ledoux,68 particularly since he spent some time living in France. Ledoux’s Royal Saltworks built at Arc-et-Seans was originally designed as an oval; however, the built complex was a semicircle. Although it is possible that Pemberton was influenced by Ledoux’s L’Architecture he could have equally been influenced by Campanella’s City of the Sun. The City of the Sun not only was circular with radial rings in a similar ground plan, it had a strong educational emphasis and the paintings on the wall were the city library. The walls of the City of the Sun played a similar role to the horticultural maps, labyrinths and garden of the Happy Colony. 64 Pemberton as quoted by Rockey, ‘An Australasian Utopist’, 175. 65 Rockey, ‘From Visionary to Reality’, 104. 66 Colvin, The Biographical Dictionary of British Architects 1600–1840. 67 Anonymous, ‘The Friends’ School, Bristol’, Builder viii, no. 368 (1850), 91. 68 Rockey, ‘From Visionary to Reality’, 91 and Helen Rosenau, The Ideal City: Its Architectural Evolution in Europe (London and New York: Methuen and Co. Ltd, 1983), 158.

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9.4 Elevations of the domestic and the college buildings Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Pemberton 1985.

5. Conclusion The perspective images of Armstrong’s in The Happy Colony are reproduced in many books on utopian cities, demonstrating that is was an important link in the development of utopian cities.69 However, little attention is paid to Pemberton’s utopian ideals and theories. Often The Happy Colony is dismissed as being the end result of the self-sufficient and cooperative village movement that had been taken ‘a stage further away from reality’.70 To some extent this was true. However, The Happy Colony is an end result of the idealisation of labour and its place in society through the Industrial Revolution in Britain. From Oliver Goldsmith’s poem The Deserted Village from 1770 that romanticised the rural enclosures to Pemberton’s Labour Kingdom is the story of the British Industrial Revolution, and the urban environment and the philosophies of that development play a significant role in that history. By using the architecture of the Crystal Palace in The Happy Colony, and planning to build the People’s Crystal Palaces through the People’s Shilling Company he added to the national and architectural metaphor that was a legacy of the shilling days and the Great Exhibition that extended far beyond 1851. Pemberton appealed to the British working man. This appeal was mostly through his 11 books and tracts. Although the rudimentary literacy rate of Britain in the mid-nineteenth century has been reported as being as high as 67–75 per cent,71 the literacy rate for the labouring classes was much lower than this. With the increasing demand for child labour, literacy rates fell in the labouring classes. Although there were some factory schools, these were rare, ineffectual and very irregularly attended.72 While Owen, Morgan and Buckingham took their appeals to public meetings, Pemberton rarely ventured into the public arena. The Mechanics Institutes were increasingly popular throughout Britain, and in The Happy Colony Pemberton 69 For example Rosenau, The Ideal City, 160–161; Volker M. Wellter and Iain Boyd Whyte, Biopolis: Patrick Geddes and the City of Life (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: The MIT Press, 2003), 178 and Colin Rowe, The Mathematics of the Ideal Popular and Other Essays (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: The MIT Press, 1982), 222. 70 W. H. G. Armitage, ‘John Minster Morgan’s Schemes, 1841–1855’, International Review of Social History 3, no. 1 (1958), 38. 71 R. S. Schofield, ‘The Dimensions of Illiteracy in England in 1750–1850’, in Literacy and Social Development in the West: A Reader, ed. Harvey J. Graff (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 201. 72 Harvey J. Graff, The Literacy Myth: Cultural Integration and Social Structure in the 19th Century (New Jersey: Transition Publishers, 1991), 226.

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claimed that the Mechanics Institute had recognise the two great opposing forces in society—wealth and labour—and were beginning to examine them, whereas the great universities of Britain had ignored this problem. However, in Address to the People he devalued the Institutes and the value of educating adults. He claimed: The Mechanics Institutes have all likewise failed in their object from the same cause, that is, the same abstract method being followed by grown-up people, who have passed the season of acquiring knowledge, because the first 14 years of infancy is the express season which the creator has allotted to the human race, for the formation of the mind in all knowledge; which will be approved to be amply sufficient, and this fact explains why man has such long infancy.73

Had he promoted his ideas at these institutes and worked through them, rather than denigrating them, he may have had some success or at least some interest. As it was he ‘spent much money in publishing books which were never read, and in devising diagrams that were never examined’.74 However, the People’s Crystal Palaces were a metaphor that encapsulates the era and philosophies of the time. In a speech at the opening of the Great Exhibition, Prince Albert claimed: ‘The progress of the human race, resulting from the common labour of all men, ought to be the final object of the exertions of each individual. In promoting this end we are carrying out the will of the great and blessed God.’75 One of the only realisations to come out Pemberton’s life’s work was the establishment of a school that was opened on 22 August 1857, where his son Robert Markham and his two daughters, Charlotte Della and Elizabeth Mary, taught.76 This school practised and promoted the ideas that were embodied in Pemberton’s writings. Languages were to be taught by sound and through interaction with the tutors. Pemberton’s Happy Colony was the last of the traditional symmetrical utopian cities that were proposed as a solution to the national housing problem. By the mid-nineteenth century it was accepted that the only way to finance these utopian cities was through an incorporated association. Philanthropy was no longer seen as a satisfactory solution to finance these villages or towns, as the problem had continued to increase in size. The next development in utopian cities turned away from Britain and the traditional form of these cities, but developed the concept of the incorporated, utopian city.

73 Pemberton, An Address to the People, 8. 74 George Jacob Holyoake, History of Cooperation (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1905), 546. 75 Anonymous, ‘Saturday, May 3’, Builder ix, no. 430 (1851), 275. 76 Armitage, ‘John Minster Morgan’s Schemes’, 1841–1855, 39.

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Chapter 10

King Camp Gillette—Metropolis

1. Background Robert Owen believed America to be a land of opportunity and that it was a perfect place where he could set up a Village of Cooperation, New Harmony, to escape the curse of poverty that had plagued Britain. However, this Promised Land became blighted by economic crisis and industrial warfare. Many utopian enterprises that had begun in the 1820s and 1830s began to fail, and with the Civil War (1861–1865) the likelihood of establishing new communities also faded. The American Civil War was one of the earliest true industrial wars. Railroads, the telegraph, steamships, and mass-produced weapons were employed extensively in this period, increasing America’s industrial capacity.1 Dissatisfaction with working conditions was increasing, and from the mid-1860s strikes were on the increase. By the 1880s economic conditions were unstable, and cruel for the labouring classes. The country was racked with strikes, and there was an increasing disparity between the rich and the poor. In many cases the strikes had not only became more prolific, but they had also become increasingly violent. There had been general strikes in 1867, 1877, and 1886. There were ongoing discussions between union leaders and government officials that generally did not lead to a resolution of the conflict.2 In 1886, a peaceful rally of several thousand people in support of workers striking for an eight-hour day in Chicago turned into a violent riot. After a dynamite bomb exploded in the midst of the rally, the police attempted to disperse the crowd and fired directly at the protesters. The protesters were also armed, and a total of seven police died and more than 60 were injured. There was no official tally of civilian deaths or injuries, but at least four civilians were killed. The court case that ensued was long and bitter. Thirty-one men were indicted; eight men were convicted and tried, and four were later hung in 1887.3 Society was more fragmented and inequitable than ever. Corporations became larger and the power of the individual became seen to be adverse to society. Larger businesses monopolised the markets and small businesses were unable to compete. Many of these small operators went out of business and often became bankrupt. It was impossible for the working classes to gain any position in this societal structure. They remained impoverished and struggled to acquire the necessities of life. The market economy implied that labour had become a commodity, and market relations permeated all levels of society and personal relationships, so much so that it could be called the market society and not merely a market economy.4 In 1884, Laurence Gronlund published The Cooperative Commonwealth in its Outlines, an Exploration of Modern Socialism. It was the first attempt to explain socialism and Marxism to the American public. Gronlund wished to establish a ‘Cooperative Commonwealth’ where the wage system would be abolished and the State would take over the means of production. Socialism would be inevitable, but it would not be established through a violent revolution, but through the ballot box. He stated: Extend in your mind division of labour and all other factors that increase the productivity of labour; apply them to all human pursuits as far as can be [done]; imagine manufacturers, transportation, and commerce conducted on the grandest possible scale, and in the most effective manner; and add to the division of

1 Adam Smith, The American Civil War (Basingstoke: Palgrave, 2007). 2 Richard Schneirov, ‘Rethinking the Relation of Labour to the Politics of Urban Social Reform in Late Nineteenth Century America: The Case of Chicago’, Labour and Working Class History 46 (1994), and H. M. Gitelman, ‘Perspectives on American Industrial Violence’, The Business History Review 47, no. 1 (2014). 3 Bernard Kogan, The Chicago Haymarket Riot (Boston, Massachusetts: D. C. Heath, 1959). 4 Robert Shulman, Social Criticism and Nineteenth-Century American Fictions (Columbia: The University of Missouri Press, 1987), 6.

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 labour its complement: ‘concert’; introduce adjustment everywhere where now there is anarchy; add that central regulative system which [Herbert] Spencer says diminishes all highly organised structures, and which supplies ‘each organ of blood in proportion to the work it does’ and—behold the Cooperative Commonwealth!5

Gronlund pointed out that this was no ‘utopian’ plan in the style of Thomas More; the new socialist movement had framed universal precepts which would come to reality. The Cooperative Commonwealth stimulated one of the most influential American books published. Looking Backwards 2000–1887 by Edward Bellamy, published in 1888, is a novel, yet it had substantial influence in utopian political thought for many years after its publication. The unlikely hero Julian West, who rendered no sort of service to society and whose wealth was derived by the labour of others, fell into sleep in 1887 only to wake up in the year 2000. He found an unrecognisable America. In the year 2000 there were no strikes like those that had caused him personal grief and financial losses in the nineteenth century. The country operated on a system of state socialism, every industry in the country was nationalised, and private property had been abolished except for personal items. All of the population shared in the wealth of the country, and all contributed equally to its wealth. Cooperation had replaced the capitalist competition that had destroyed his own time. This cooperation was seen in the system of militarised labour in an industrial army in which all citizens played a role. There were no wars, there was no poverty, there was no money, and equality and equity were leading principles of the society.6 The order and egalitarian nature of the society of the year 2000 was in complete contrast to the poverty, segregation of classes, political strife and inequity of the nineteenth century. Bellamy created a technological utopia that drew from technical advances of the industrial society, but rejected the market and corporate economy of that society. The State was the only corporation, its people were the shareholders, and its government was formed by the people and with their cooperation and collaboration. Bellamy had unqualified faith in the nature of progress, in the influence and benefits of technology, and in the expertise and efficiency of his industrial army.7 This attractive concept of the future appealed to the public and stimulated many thousands of readers into political action. He was anxious that his plan of social and economic organisation be called ‘nationalism’ in order to keep away from the vague expression ‘socialism’. Bellamy stressed that socialisation of industries does not necessarily imply economic equality, and it was economic equality that was significant.8 His unique name ‘nationalism’ stimulated the imaginations of many thousands of readers of Looking Backwards. He presented an ideologically conservative utopia that particularly appealed to the middle class citizens, who were seeking significant changes, but were adverse to wholesale revolution.9 A Nationalist Club was established in Boston in 1888 and grew very quickly; by February 1891 there were 165 nationalist clubs across America. In 1889, a monthly magazine called The Nationalist was also established. Its motto came from the Constitution of the Nationalist Party of Boston: ‘The nationalisation of industry and the promotion of the brotherhood of many.’10 In its ‘Declaration of Principles’ it stated, The principal of the brotherhood of humanity is one of the internal truths that govern the world progress on lines which distinguish human nature from brutal nature. The principle of competition is simply the application 5 Lawrence Gronlund, ‘Expediency of the Cooperative Commonwealth’, in Late Nineteenth Century American Liberalism: Representative Selections, 1880–1900, ed. Lewis Filler (Indianapolis, Indiana and New York: The BobbsMerrill Company, 1962), 144. 6 Edward Bellamy, Looking Backward (Boston, Massachusetts: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1967). 7 Robert C. Elliott, ‘Introduction’, in Looking Backward, ed. Robert C. Elliott (Boston, Massachusetts: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1967), xii. 8 John Hope Franklin, ‘Edward Bellamy and the Nationalist Movement’, The New England Quarterly 11, no. 4 (1938), 750. 9 Howard P. Segal, ‘Edward Bellamy’s “Looking Backward” and the American Ideology of Progress through Technology’, OAH Magazine of History 4, no. 2 (1989), 23. 10 Henry Willard Austin, ed. The Nationalist (Boston, Massachusetts: The Nationalists Educational Association, 1889), cover page.

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of the brutal law of the survival of the strongest and most cunning. Therefore, so long as competition continues to be the ruling factor in our industrial system, the highest development of the individual cannot be reached, the loftiest aims of humanity cannot be realised … The present industrial system proves itself wrong by the immense wrong it produces: it proves itself absurd by the immense waste of energy and material which is admitted to be its concomitant. Against this system we raise our protest: for the abolition of the slavery it has wrought and would perpetuate.11

Over 210,000 copies of Looking Backwards and 69,000 copies of The Nationalist had been sold by December, 1889.12 The nationalist movement inspired by Bellamy’s principles articulated in Looking Backwards was a phenomenal success that brought optimism for the future and a possible solution for the problems of the industrial society. This optimism was reflected in the planning for the World Columbian Exposition which opened in 1893 in Chicago. By 1893, world fairs and expositions were regular events and the Columbian Exposition, named because it was to celebrate the four hundredth anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s arrival in the New World, was the twelfth world exposition and the second in America. However, Chicago was going to make it a memorable event. While the Great Exhibition in London had been held in a single building, the Columbian Exposition was a small city. It became known as the White City, and like the Crystal Palace, it was prefabricated, appeared from nowhere then disappeared equally rapidly. The majority of the buildings were temporary, and the name ‘White City’ was derived from the uniform marble-like finish applied to the buildings, which gave them an ethereal appearance. Their exteriors were made of a hard-drying mixture of plaster, cement and hemp built on simple timber frames, and they were only built to last for the six-month duration of the fair.13 It was built on the unimproved site of Jackson Park and consisted of 686 acres. This was divided up into seven regions: ‘the Court of Honour; the area immediately north of it, including the Woodford Island, the lagoon, and the buildings surrounding this body of water; the government area, consisting of the United States government building and the buildings of foreign nations; the area of the State buildings; the midway Plaisance; the South-Eastern region, with such buildings as livestock exhibitions, La Rabids, and the Anthropology Building; and the warehouse and workshop areas on the South-West side.’14 The 1890s saw a cultural awakening and the development of American popular culture. With industrialisation and a population boom in Chicago, it developed an architecture that was uniquely American— the ‘commercial style’ or ‘Chicago style’. The commercial style recognised the union of science, technology and art. This style was primarily a response to the new technologies that would permit greater physical height as well as a larger expanse of open floor space. The skeleton metal frame was first cast in wrought iron, and later in steel, and was foremost among the new technological developments.15 The five principal architects for the Exposition were selected from all over America. They developed a new classical fashion and did not utilise the uniquely American architecture of the commercial style. The Chicago Times reported that: ‘the best architects in the country prepared plans for several buildings and the structures they have designed will exhibit the highest achievement of American architecture.’16 Like the Great Exhibition in London, the Columbian Exposition appealed to national pride and identity. However, unlike the Great Exhibition, which promoted the work of the artisans and labourers, the Columbian Exposition promoted the concept of the White City as a perfect city. Many poems and novels were written about the Columbian Exposition.17 Novelist Henry Blake Fuller compared the White City to what he called the Black City; the downtown Chicago high-rise district. He considered that the White City was the first and greatest example of new American cities, and that this form of architecture was the inevitable future. He 11 Austin, The Nationalist, i. 12 Franklin, ‘Edward Bellamy and the Nationalist Movement’, 754. 13 Norman Bolotin and Christine Laing, The World’s Columbian Exposition: The Chicago World Fair of 1893 (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2002), 15. 14 John Harris et al., Grand Illusions Chicago’s World’s Fair of 1893 (Chicago: Chicago Historical Society, 1994), 74. 15 Carl W. Condit, The Chicago School of Architecture (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1964), 21–27. 16 The Chicago Times, as quoted by Harris et al., Grand Illusions Chicago’s World’s Fair of 1893, 57. 17 David F. Burg, Chicago’s White City of 1893 (Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1976), 286–297.

10.1â&#x20AC;&#x192; Court of Honour, Columbian Exposition, 1893 (with kind permission from Chicago History Museum)

10.2â&#x20AC;&#x192; The Administration Building, Columbian Exposition, 1893 at night (with kind permission from Chicago History Museum)

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believed that the factory-smoked Black City of Chicago was not architecture to be emulated.18 The contrast between the Beaux-arts architecture of the White City and the commercial style of high-rise of Chicago’s downtown was extreme. While the White City was temporary and disappeared within six months of its opening, leaving a mystical memory, the Black City continued to develop and to dominate the landscape of Chicago: it was the architecture of the Black City that was the inevitable future. The optimism of the Nationalist Clubs and the Columbian Exposition, like the White City, was shortlived. The industrial boom had led to speculation, and many companies continued to grow by taking over their competitors, thereby endangering their own stability.19 The depression of 1893 was one of the worst in American history. The hard times provided the conditions for outbursts of political and social unrest and violent strikes. The entire American continent was affected, even the ethereal White City. The number of visitors to the Columbian Exposition, which opened in May at around the same time as the economic panic began, was disappointing.20 The attendance figure over the six-month duration of the Exposition was 27,500,000 (21,000,000 paid the admission fee of 50 cents).21 The Nationalist declared through the days of the depression that it was ‘great days for making converts to Nationalism’; however, it was the beginning of its slow decline.22 Nevertheless, the nationalist movement was still strongly in favour of realising Bellamy’s city of the year 2000. It was in this atmosphere that a travelling salesman and later inventor of the safety razor, King Camp Gillette, wrote The Human Drift, which was published in 1894. It reveals a technological and industrial utopia, at the centre of which was a massive corporation, which was in a similar vein to Bellamy’s ideas. 2. The Human Drift The Human Drift was Gillette’s answer to the evils of capitalism—the creation of a perfect civilisation. On the cover page of the book was an image of the earth that was draped in a banner reading ‘United Intelligence and Material Equity’, and under this image was a quotation: There are clouds upon the horizon of thought, and the very air we breathe is pregnant with life that foretells the birth of a wonderful change. Darkness will cover the whole dome and encircle the earth, the storm will break, and from the travail of nature reason will have its birth and assume its sway over the minds of men.23

The darkness that covers the earth was competitive capitalism; Gillette’s mantra was a refutation of the proposition that ‘competition is the life of trade’.24 He believed that progress, both intellectual and material, was retarded by the elements of chaos that were involved in the means of production and distribution of the necessities of life. In the capitalist system competition was not a good thing for trade; in fact, it retarded progress. If competition was eliminated the production and distribution of the necessities of life could be increased and made available to everyone. To achieve this, he proposed to form a united stock company, The United Company, which would be owned by the people. The company would be of significant magnitude to gradually absorb and finally control the production and distribution of all the necessities of life. Such a company would destroy all the tributary industries that did not contribute to production and distribution. He advocated a system of united intelligence and material equality. This system would eventually eliminate the use of money and ‘the manual labour

18 Sidney Bremer, ‘Fiction’s Many Cities’, in A Companion to American Fiction 1865–1914, ed. Robert Paul Lamb and G. R. Thompson (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2005), 305. 19 Douglas Steeples and David O. Whitten, Democracy in the Depression of 1893 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1998), 27. 20 Steeples and Whitten, Democracy in the Depression of 1893, 37. 21 Bolotin and Laing, The World’s Columbian Exposition, 20. 22 Franklin, ‘Edward Bellamy and the Nationalist Movement’, 770. 23 King Camp Gillette, The Human Drift (New York: Delmar, 1976), unpaginated. 24 Gillette, The Human Drift, v.

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incident to production and distribution would be equally apportioned to each individual without friction and with perfect justice’.25 White City was a contrast to the living and working conditions of the time, and according to Gillette it was a glimpse of the wonderful future that could be had. He claimed, When we recall the grandeur and artistic beauty of the White City, its magnificent architecture and beautiful environment, and realise from a barren waste it sprung into existence under the magic wand of united intelligence, we are impressed by the thought, ‘Was it a dream, or was it a revelation to humanity, to lighten the pathway to a new and perfect civilisation an environment made beautiful by United intelligence and material equality?’26

The United Company was not a private listed corporation; it would be a system whereby the people would take control over production by a natural process of absorbing all other enterprises through takeovers until all enterprises were owned by the one corporation. It would replace the chaotic system of production and distribution. He claimed that under the existing system the wealthy were also slaves and in similar circumstances to the poorest beggars, since they did not know whether they could sustain their wealth and living conditions, nor could they guarantee their children’s lifestyle. Therefore, they could never truly be fully free and contented. The United Company would be a natural consequence of the competitive commercial system. The Company would become so large that it would take over all other companies. It would have the economic power to destroy the existing system of waste and extravagance. The existing system of production and distribution was unwieldy and like a ‘cumbersome body, without head or brain, held together by laws that are a direct outcome of the chaos and disorder which surrounds us’.27 The population of America at this time was 70,000,000, and Gillette considered them to be ‘ignorant, selfish, struggling animals that hold their glass of vanity up, and pride themselves on their humanity, freedom and progress’.28 He claimed that although there had been a change from the monarchy to a republic, there had been no real change in society, only a change of the style of leadership. However, most citizens were gradually drifting into the poverty-stricken lifestyle of the European countries. He believed that in the system of that time nobody was free, and it was impossible to be free under a system of competition for wealth. Gillette was very critical of the cooperative movement that began in England and was also practised in America from the 1820s.29 In 1869, the ‘Knights of Labour’, a union that was inclusive of all wage earners, with the exception of occupations that they perceived as detrimental to the wage earner, such as bankers, stockbrokers and liquor dealers, was established. They not only fought for better conditions for the wage earners, such as shorter hours and safer work environments, but they also had other goals, such as sexual equality and universal suffrage. During the 1880s the Knights of Labour developed cooperative stores for their members. As these cooperative stores failed, the labour movement began to mistrust the socialist philosophy behind them. With the economic downturn in the 1890s there was a renewed labour movement in the ‘American Federation of Labour’, a conservative exclusive union that only included skilled labour and repudiated the principles of the cooperative movement, as their concern was only in the improvement of working conditions and in obtaining a larger share from the existing capitalist system.30 Gillette claimed that at best the cooperative movement could only save only a small percentage of the income of the participants, and that the movement had no backbone. He claimed that the cooperative movement would never have the power to affect the existing commercial system because they were too small and limited in their scope. ‘It is the people combined under a smooth running machine of a mammoth stock company, against the people 25 Gillette, The Human Drift, vii. 26 Gillette, The Human Drift, 3. 27 Gillette, The Human Drift, 7. 28 Gillette, The Human Drift, 8. 29 United States Department of Labour, Organisation and Management of Consumers Cooperatives and Buying Clubs (Washington: United States Government Printing Office, 1941), 89. 30 Steven Bernard Leikin, The Practical Utopians: American Workers and the Cooperative Movement in the Gilded Age (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2005), xiv.

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10.3 Diagram of the human drift Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976.

divided’.31 Under the existing system, with individuals in charge of production and distribution the cooperative movement would always be at a disadvantage and would always be relatively ineffectual. Gillette claimed that nine-tenths of the population of America lived from hand to mouth. The power of their minds was directed to the struggle of obtaining the necessities of life from day to day. This left no time or inclination to develop the mind by acquiring knowledge that would in turn benefit the progress of civilisation.32 Gillette strongly believed that the competitive commercial world was the greatest evil of all: the cause of all injustices in the social world, and all ignorance, poverty, crime and sickness. By maintaining the existing system the world was losing a greater part of its brainpower, and the whole system was wasteful of material and labour beyond any reasonable calculation. The accumulation of individual wealth was at the expense of human misery and suffering. According to Gillette, in the existing system the individual capitalist was making a profit at every stage, since generally every stage was controlled by a different individual. The United Company would not need to make a profit at every stage, since it would be in control of production and distribution from start to finish, and this would reduce the cost of the necessities of life. The drift of humanity could be depicted as two seas, one the sea of competition for material wealth, and the other the sea of progress (see Figure10.3). The Human Drift included an outline of a prospectus for the United Company33 with a nominal capital of $1,000,000 in shares of one dollar each. Shareholders could buy as many shares as they desired; however, there was to be only one vote per shareholder. There would be no dividend-bearing stock beyond a fixed guaranteed interest for the use of the capital. The company would begin by taking over production of the necessities of life for a large part of the population, and would grow and develop from there. There would need to be a centre for all manufacturing in the vicinity of Niagara Falls, as they were a natural power source that would be capable of maintaining the continuous operation of every industry of the Company. 31 Gillette, The Human Drift, 9. 32 Gillette, The Human Drift, 31. 33 Gillette, The Human Drift, 19–31.

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In the 1890s the Niagara Falls were perceived to be an infinite source of power. Their potential power generated many articles on how this power could be utilised and stored. Popular Science Monthly declared that, ‘people in general have the idea that the Niagara power is inexhaustible, and so it probably is, so far as human requirements go’.34 However, while generating electricity was a relatively simple matter, storing and transporting it was a different matter altogether. The International Niagara Commission held a competition to resolve these issues. Although they issued several prizes, the problem remained unsatisfactorily resolved until 1892, when Nikola Tesla developed a system for transmitting electricity long distances. This system was used to light the entire White City, demonstrating in miniature (see Figure 10.2) how transmissions from Niagara would work.35 There were a number of utopian plans for cities around the Falls that could tap into their power. In 1893 the entrepreneur William T. Love purchased 90 square miles from Niagara escarpment to Lake Ontario to develop his Model City. The massive amount of power that Niagara could generate would attract businesses and industries, and he planned a city for up to 1,000,000 people. Unfortunately, although the city was begun, the economic decline of that year forced Love into bankruptcy. Model City survived, but only as a small hamlet. Many other cities were planned around Niagara but remained unbuilt. In general the power that could be harvested from Niagara generated much excitement, speculation and many ideas.36 However, Gillette’s plan was the most spectacular and was still in keeping with the excitement of these new developments and technologies that could be achieved with such a power source. The United Company would become the supreme company in the business world. It would only be a matter of a few years before all other companies would be absorbed by this mega-company and it would be the only company in America. This would be a new machine that would take over the old. Gillette believed that politicians had failed the people and that no political party, Republican or Democrat, could change civilisation in the existing market economy. However, the United Company would be a revolution! Gillette stated: But it will be a bloodless revolution,—the results of excitement and enthusiasm to reach the goal of freedom as soon as possible. Not a man, woman, or child, will want for the necessity of life during this time: and under the power of willing hearts and ready hands, the wonderful city of the future will spring into existence like magic, the material result of the combined negatives and imagination and genius, to bid defiance to the most fantastic dream of the individual.37

This future city would be for 60,000,000 people and it was to be called ‘Metropolis’. There would be another 10,000,000 who would be involved in other industries around America. Metropolis, like White City, would ‘spring into existence’. The progress of the United Company would first be gradual while it absorbed the fields of production of other companies and centralised the manufacturing industries. This would mean that vast numbers of people would be unemployed, but these people could all be employed by the Company to build Metropolis. Niagara Falls was to be the power source for the city and its manufacturing sector. Its power was estimated at a steady flow of 6,000,000 horsepower. However, by sending the water from the Falls through 1,000 pipelines it would double that capacity.38 This amount of power would be needed to drive all the machinery of production and for lighting Metropolis to turn it into a ‘fairyland’ like the magical electrically illuminated White City. Figure 10.4 shows the location of Metropolis. To accommodate the 60,000,000 people, the city would require 24,000 enormous apartment buildings, which were to be capable of accommodating on average 2,500 people. The city would be constructed of four great materials: structural steel, brick, glass and tiles. The city would progress very rapidly since every building had the same framework and these parts could be prefabricated in the steel mills.39 Because of this 34 Popular Science Monthly, as quoted by Ginger Strand, Inventing Niagara: Beauty, Power, and Lies (New York, London, Toronto, and Sydney: Simonand Schuster, 2008), 163. 35 Strand, Inventing Niagara, 153. 36 Patrick McGreevy, ‘Imagining the Future at Niagara Falls’, Annals of the Association of American Geographers 77, no. 1 (1987), 51. 37 Gillette, The Human Drift, 28–29. 38 Gillette, The Human Drift, 88. 39 Gillette, The Human Drift, 107.

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10.4â&#x20AC;&#x192; Map indicating the location of Metropolis Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976.

prefabrication, there would be 1,000,000 rooms that would all have the same dimensions. However, although the same shape and size of tiles were to be used, there would be infinite possibilities for artistic designs and colouring. The city was to have a perfect sewerage and drainage system that would be accessible for repair. This was all to be above ground, but would be covered over with a platform. In fact, there were to be three platforms: the first covered area was for the utilities and pipes, and would be covered by a platform 25 feet high. The second was to be a transport system that would criss-cross the entire city, also 25 feet high. The third platform was to be 50 feet in height and would be a scene of great artistic beauty: The floors, ceilings, and pillars of porcelain tiles, with the ever-changing variety in colour and designs, the artificial parks topped above the upper platform with domes of coloured glass in beautiful designs, urns of flowers and beautiful works of art and statues would make it an endless gallery of loveliness. Here would be found a panorama of beauty that would throw into shadow the Fables of the wonderful palaces and cities told of in the Arabian Nights; yet the genii of all this would be naught but the genius of man working in unison. What would be seen here is within our knowledge to do, and with less expenditure of labour than is now required to maintain our present the cities.40

In Figure 10.5 Buildings A are the education buildings, Buildings B are amusement buildings, Buildings C are where food was to be stored and prepared. This plan shows the distribution of the buildings in the proposed city. The A, B and C buildings were each at the centre of six surrounding apartment buildings and therefore contributed to their requirements. The individual buildings were circular and 25 stories 40 Gillette, The Human Drift, 93.

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high. In the centre on the ground floor was a communal eating area (see Plate 27) and the food was transported from Buildings C to the apartments through the underground transport system and lifts through the centre of the apartment building. Although the buildings were the same shape and size their decorations were to be different, making them individual works of art. The ceramic tiles were all different shades of colour and would give the buildings ‘prismatic tints of the rainbow’ (see Plates 25 and 26).41 Imagine for a moment these 30-odd thousand buildings of Metropolis, each standing alone, a majestic work of art—a city which, with our present population, would be from 60 to 70 miles in length, and 20 to 30 in width,—a never-ending city of beauty and cleanliness, and then compare it to our cities of filth, crime, and misery, with their ill-paved and dirty thoroughfares, crowded with the struggling masses of humanity and the system of necessary traffic. And compare the machinery of both systems and take your choice I believe the only obstacle that lies in the way of the building of this city is man.42

This city would represent a new social order, a new world of freedom, beauty and a world without crime and misery. Gillette concluded The Human Drift with 10.5 Ground plan of Metropolis indicating an appeal, stating: ‘this is not politics: it is not the types of buildings religion. It is hard hand common business sense.’43 Source: Drawn by Author from Gillette 1976. He encouraged the reader to join the ranks of an overwhelming United People’s party. Such a city and a system of production and distribution would be the way of the future and of a better life for humanity. His concluding sentences make the reader aware of his passion for social reform and his belief in this system: Let us tear asunder the chrysalis which binds within its folds the intellect of man, and let the polis star of every thought find its light in nature’s truths. Forward! is the cry. ‘Let the dead past bury its dead,’ and let a new era of civilisation and progress shed its light of hope on the future of mankind.44

3. The Political Philosophy Gillette began to write The Human Drift in 1893 when the worst depression in American history had begun. He perceived this national crisis to have been the result of corporate greed. The power of the modern corporation and the problems of capitalist competition were clear influences in The Human Drift. While he 41 Gillette, The Human Drift, 108. 42 Gillette, The Human Drift, 109. 43 Gillette, The Human Drift, 131. 44 Gillette, The Human Drift, 131.

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attacked the system of competition between corporations, he believed that the power of a single corporation to control the necessities of life would mark the beginning of a new stage in civilisation. The evolution of this single corporation was the natural progression of the system of competition. Gillette believed that the economy of production and distribution was a science of evolution of society, and thus was a natural law. If this law was not recognised there could only be dire consequences for the society.45 The Nationalist Clubs had been established for five years when Gillette wrote The Human Drift, and it reflected many of the ideas and principles of Bellamy’s Looking Backwards and the nationalist movement. Gillette attempted to present a fully articulated plan that would realise the world of the year 2000 in Looking Backwards. He claimed that in every age there have been efforts at reforming society. Men and women had gone to extreme efforts and even sacrificed their lives for the hope of a better world. However, all their attempts had failed. This was not from lack of effort or desire for reform, but it was because the reformers themselves had failed to understand the evils that they wished to reform. They were unable to outline a plan that would be clear from its conception to its implementation. Without this clear plan it was impossible to gain the public’s trust and confidence.46 More than a third of the Nationalists Clubs were based in California,47 which was perceived as an enlightened state. One of the weekly reformist magazines that appeared in the mid-1890s was Twentieth Century. In February 1895, an article by Lawrence Gronlund applauded California’s initiatives and reforms, and stated that California would be the first state to move towards collectiveness. Gronlund strongly believed that the reforms would come through government reform, particularly with the American Federal System. In this same article he reviewed The Human Drift. His review was not sympathetic, and he stated that: social remedies cannot be invented, but must be discovered … It [The Human Drift] is not practical, simply because, as I have said, society is not a building, the structure, but an organism, literally like unto a tree … It is not intelligence that rules us, but feelings and interests—immediate interests.48

However, The Twentieth Century was associated with the Bellamy nationalist movement. In his criticism of The Human Drift Gronlund clearly underestimated the desire of the Nationalist Clubs to find a realisation of Bellamy’s principles. The next issue was a defence of The Human Drift, and the authors strongly believed that collectivism would be a major feature of revolution, and that it was no longer good enough to be resigned to suffering and deprivation as there would be justice in the hereafter. The Human Drift gave a detailed plan where the possibility of an earthly heaven through the medium of an enormous stock company did appear feasible, and although it was less perfect than collectivism, it would be when it obtained its full growth. The article praised The Human Drift and stated, ‘we hailed it as our salvation’.49 Another reader stated, ‘Hailed to thy birth, United People’s Company, hailed to the mind who conceived thee’.50 By October 1895 the magazine was strongly supporting Gillette’s reformist plan.51 The readers were so impressed by The Human Drift that The Twentieth Century changed its motto from ‘here the other side’ to Gillette’s ‘United Intelligence and Material Equality’. The Twentieth Century reported to its readers that Gillette was putting the finishing touches to the details of the Corporation’s prospectus. Although the prospectus did not eventuate, the notoriety of The Human Drift through reform journals such as The Twentieth Century had stimulated enough interest and money was sent to the publishers, Humboldt Publishing Company, to keep the dream alive. The directors of the publishing firm decided to form a company, the Twentieth Century Company, and its first line of business would be insurance. This would be the profitable enterprise that would lead to the creation of Gillette’s World Corporation. However, this enterprise soon ended in failure. 45 King Camp Gillette, ‘Labour and Natural Law’, Twentieth Century xiv, no. Sept. 25 (1895). 46 Gillette, The Human Drift, 46. 47 Franklin, ‘Edward Bellamy and the Nationalist Movement’, 754. 48 Lawrence Gronlund, ‘Now Look Out for California’, Twentieth Century xiv, no. Feb. 7 (1895), 4. 49 Anonymous, ‘Reply to Gronlund’, Twentieth Century xiv, no. Feb 14 (1895), 2. 50 As quoted by Tim Dowling, Inventor of the Disposable Culture: King Camp Gillette 1855–1932 (London: Short Books, 2001), 29. 51 D. O’Loughlin, ‘Editorial’, Twentieth Century xv, no. Oct 10 (1895), 1.

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After the publication of The Human Drift, Gillette was utterly convinced of his utopian dream and its workability, and he was tireless in his promotion of it. Yet the detailed prospectus remained unfinished, and soon Gillette stopped promoting his ideal, perhaps because of mounting criticism of the workability of his plan or because he was busy on his invention of the safety razor. When he next published in the Twentieth Century he explained his relative silence; it was: not from lack of courage to back up my convictions but because the basic ideas advanced were beyond argument … I am willing to admit, that the idea of a central metropolis is in advance of this generation, and for this reason may not appeal to the average mind.52

As the 1896 elections approached the radical community began to back the political mainstream by supporting William Jennings Bryan’s presidential campaign. Interest in the Twentieth Century Company, or other equivalents, began to fade as hopes for a political solution to the national crisis appeared to be available. In this period Gillette also had a change of mind about politicians. In the Twentieth Century he stated that he believed the balance of the Democratic Party and the larger part of it were absorbed by populism, and that the Republicans wished to maintain and perpetuate the current conditions of self-interest. ‘By this division of the people this country becomes a battleground of socialism vs despotism of centralised wealth.’53 However, in the same article he openly supported Bryan, who he referred to as the ‘Demosthenes of the West’. After Bryan’s resounding defeat, Gillette published The Ballot Box, a 32-page pamphlet where he praised political reform movements. He outlined possible political solutions, such as large-scale public work projects, especially road improvements, to relieve unemployment. While in The Human Drift the unemployed were utilised by the Corporation to build the city Metropolis, he now advocated that the government deploy the same policy to build the infrastructure of the nation.54 No longer was there to be a change in society through a revolution brought about by commercial economic means;55 now this would be achieved through political means. The ballot box was a good way to achieve true reform. However, his political activism was very short term, and he reverted to the need to revolutionise society through economic and technological means. In 1907, a book entitled Gillette’s Social Redemption was published by novelist Mervyn Linwood Severy, who was a close friend of Gillette’s. This massive book, of almost 800 pages, is a record of the injustices and evils of the early twentieth century. While from a twenty-first century perspective it is an exceptionally interesting societal record, from the early twentieth century perspective it must have been exceptionally dull. It begins: This book is not intended to be interesting, nor has it been written with the idea that it will be consecutively read from cover to cover. Its purpose is more serious and its mission less ephemeral. It has been planned in the hope and belief that it will form a substantial basis for one of the greatest social changes ever known.56

In fact the book does not outline Gillette’s plan, it outlined the inhumanity of mankind, often with pathetic and sad images of the results of these injustices. In all the hundreds of pages describing these injustices and the degradation of society it is difficult to focus on the purpose of the book. A reviewer of the book claimed that Severy and Gillette ‘are unable to communicate their ideals’.57 The second book, published a year later, entitled Gillette’s Industrial Solution: World Corporation, was intended to demonstrate how the evils that Severy described in the first book could be resolved. However, the bulk of the book examined theories of collectivism and the ‘evils’ of competition. He considered how Gillette’s system was a social evolution that was supported through the natural laws. He believed in social Darwinism, 52 Gillette, as quoted by Russell B. Adams, King C. Gillette: The Man and His Wonderful Shaving Device (Boston and Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1978), 25. 53 King Camp Gillette, ‘Opportunity’, Twentieth Century xvii, no. 13 August (1896), 10. 54 King Camp Gillette, The Ballot Box (Brookline, Massachusetts: n.p., 1897). 55 Gillette, The Human Drift, 46. 56 Mervyn Linwood Severy, Gillette’s Social Redemption (Boston, Massachusetts: Herbert B. Turner and Co, 1907), 1. 57 Adams, King C. Gillette, 83.

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but that it was destructive in a competitive capitalist system. Survival of the fittest would eventually lead to man living a harmonious life rather than continuing the never-ending struggle of competition: this was a ‘parcel of nature’s effort to continue this species’.58 Although he expressed admiration for communist theory he did not promote European socialism, but expressed the ideals of collectivism in terms of non-political reform—through the form of Gillette’s corporation. He believed that Gillette’s system would convince men that their highest individualistic needs would coincide with their highest social interest. Consequently, the old system of competition would be redundant.59 Following the publication of Severy’s books, Gillette published World Corporation in 1910. By then Gillette was a successful and wealthy businessman; however, he still believed in, and promoted, his utopian ideals. The purpose of World Corporation was to announce the formation of a company of the same name that had been established in the territory of Arizona. The book was the ‘articles of incorporation of the World Corporation’; he drew the reader’s attention to Article IV, which noted that ‘the capital stock of “World Corporation” is not a defined and stated amount, as in the case of every other Corporation, but is progressive and unlimited’.60 The company would grow from its small beginnings until it became the only corporation in the nation. By 1910, several corporations had been set up to accommodate cooperative model towns. Frank, Harry, Walter, Hiram and Carl Vrooman were heavily involved in social reform and they had promoted and begun cooperative communities at the end of the nineteenth century and into the twentieth century. However, they understood that a cooperative colony could face ugly legal complications that would arise from its simple joint stock form of organisation. Hiram Vrooman planned to overcome these difficulties through managerial panels that would be empowered to reject anyone from the colony on the grounds of being unfit for membership. However, each State had different corporate laws; in considering a cooperative community in Maryland, Massachusetts, he found that it was expedient to incorporate a colony under guise of the University, The Coworkers Fraternity. Walter Vrooman utilised the difference in corporate law between States by incorporating different associations in different States.61 In the same vein, Gillette was able to incorporate World Corporation with an unspecified amount of capital stock in the territory of Arizona purely because Arizona was not a State until 1912. Gillette’s prospectus contained not only the details that he promised in the mid-1890s, but he had now also established the company—the World Corporation. There would be no less than three and no more than 25 directors, who would be all elected. In addition to the main board of directors, there would be one director elected for each 5,000,000 shares of stock of the Corporation.62 At the time of the founding of the company there were three directors, Charles A. Gaines, Gillette’s brother-in-law; Edward S. Crockett, a Boston attorney whose office doubled as the Corporation’s world headquarters, and as the president, Gillette.63 However, Gillette did not intend to hold the post of president for long and he offered Theodore Roosevelt $1,000,000 to become president of the Corporation for a four-year term. Roosevelt declined the offer.64 The World Corporation is the formal documentation of the company that was outlined in The Human Drift; it was his attempt to make his utopian dream concrete. In business Gillette had become better acquainted with working of corporations such as United States Steel and Standard Oil. He greatly admired the ‘military’ nature and hierarchy of these organisations. The centralisation and militarisation of industry would provide the metaphor to describe the perfect cooperation for the required city for the Corporation.65 58 Mervyn Linwood Severy, Gillette’s Industrial Solution: World Corporation (Boston, Massachusetts: The Ball Publishing Company, 1908), 29. 59 Severy, Gillette’s Industrial Solution, 572. 60 King Camp Gillette, World Corporation (Boston, Massachusetts: The New England News Company, 1910), 12. 61 Ross E. Paulson, Radicalism and Reform: The Vrooman Family and American Social Thought, 1837–1937 (Lewisville: University of Kentucky, 1968), 172–185. 62 Gillette, World Corporation, 35. 63 Gillette, World Corporation, 2. 64 Adams, King C. Gillette, 89, and Lauren Coodley, Upton Sinclair: California Socialist, Celebrity Intellectual (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2013), 72. 65 James Gilbert, Designing the Industrial State: The Intellectual Pursuit of Collectivism in America 1880–1940 (Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1972), 173.

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The World Corporation planned to centralise the industries that came under its control. This meant the building of a centralised city, for he believed that it was impossible to maintain the separate cities that were scattered throughout America. The whole company was projected into the future on a cooperative plan that meant all parts would be together in a harmonious relationship. It was like a ‘World’s Fair which is the cooperation of nations, states, cities, and individuals for the purpose of representing man’s intellectual and material progress’.66 Gillette perceived the optimism and cooperation of the Columbian Exhibition was embodied in the World Corporation that was formed by the World Corporate mind, the real machine the material embodiment of millions of minds. He claimed: The White City in Chicago in 1893 was materialised into life from a Corporate Mind, made up of a few individual minds. Though designed for temporary purposes and constructed of board and plaster, it was a wonderful conception of architecture, art, and beauty that brings forcibly to mind the possibilities of a World Corporate Mind building a city and home for the people,—not a city of wood and plaster for temporary use, but a city built for permanency and made beautiful because it was to be the home of the people.67

The city would draw on all the science, art and engineering talent of the world. He continued to outline the plan of Metropolis: a city of 6,000,000 people that would draw its power from Niagara. However, he did not described this in such detail as he did in The Human Drift, but even after 17 years the image of the White City was a clear influence on how he perceived the perfect city of the future, despite the fact that he did not use the architectural style of the White City. He strongly believed that the combination of Metropolis and the Corporation would deliver a better life for all. ‘Life will be worth living. Heaven will be on earth, and God will reign in the heart of every individual and find expression through the Great Corporate Soul’.68 However, Gillette’s World Corporation faded away, just like the Twentieth Century Company of the late 1890s. Yet Gillette remained true to his utopian vision, and after the First World War he recruited the help of flamboyant journalist Upton Sinclair to promote his ideals. In The Book of Life, published in 1922, Sinclair attempted to address everyday problems of the working men and women of America. For the last few years he had been working with Gillette on his third and final book. At the time, he was an enthusiastic supporter of Gillette’s utopian vision.69 He stated: The politician seeks to solve the industrial problem by means of the state, and the labour leader seeks to solve it by the unions; it is to be expected that Mr Gillette, a capitalist, should seek to solve it by means of a corporation. He points out that [the] modern Trust is the greatest instrument of production yet invented by man; and he asks why the people should not form their own Trust, to handle their own affairs and to purchase and take over the industries from their present private masters. It is interesting to note that Mr Gillette’s solution is fully as radical and thorough-going as those of the State Socialists or the Syndicalist. The People’s Corporation which he projects and plans someday to launch upon the world would be a gigantic consumers union whose credit power would speedily dominate and absorb or other powers in modern society; it would make us all shareholders and give us shares of the benefits of social productivity.70

The People’s Corporation was finally published in 1924 in Gillette’s name after a ten-year collaboration between Sinclair and Gillette. Fundamentally, it restated the plan from The Human Drift. It reiterated a plan for the absorption of the world’s business into one large corporation, and the end of its social woes through the power of this Corporation to enhance everyone’s life by improving employment, the environment and housing through its control of production and distribution. Through the decrease of duplicated services the Corporation would reduce costs of production and enhance distribution, which would lead to great efficiencies. 66 Gillette, World Corporation, 223. 67 Gillette, World Corporation, 224. 68 Gillette, World Corporation, 240. 69 Adams, King C. Gillette, 135. 70 Upton Sinclair, The Book of Life (Bedford, Massachusetts: Applewood Books, 1922), 200–201.

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However, there is one significant change: The People’s Corporation no longer included Metropolis. The corporation would eliminate all duplications in individual houses and in thousands of cities that waste so much labour power in housework and in distribution by reducing the number of cities. Under the Corporation, there would no longer be one large city, ‘there will only be a few cities on the North American continent, probably only three or four of great size, where the larger part of the population will live’.71 Not only was the mega-city of Metropolis abandoned in his plan, but so was his chosen architecture of the commercial style. He claimed: The buildings in which people will live will be operated like the best hotels which we have at present, but they will be much larger and each will be surrounded by its own park garden. They will draw on our best knowledge of architecture and engineering and will surpass anything heretofore conceived in the perfection of appointments and convenience. They will probably be built in the form of rings extended outwards from a huge circular court, and they might easily be 50 floors high … When we see what a few cities have done to beautify their parks and streets by the new art of the city planning, we can begin to visualise the beautiful metropolis which the People’s Corporation will build. A prize will be awarded for the best architectural plan for a new building … Thus men will compete in skills and service and such competition, we have seen, leaves the world the richer.72

Fine architecture would not be reserved for dwellings alone, but all of the manufacturing area was to be designed as beautifully as an artist’s gallery or a public library, since the average person spends more time in a factory or a workshop than in a museum or a library. There was only a hint of the careful plans, elevations, and sections of Metropolis that he had provided in The Human Drift. Both the size and design of Metropolis had been criticised since the publication of The Human Drift. Gillette had acknowledged in the Twentieth Century that his city plan was too advanced, ‘and for this reason may not appeal to the average mind’.73 After the publication of The Human Drift even his supporters found Metropolis not to their liking. In 1895, an anonymous supporter who had declared Gillette’s Corporation the country’s salvation stated ‘we must confess that there are some things in the book which we do not agree with, such for instance as the central city Metropolis, also the construction of the houses which appeared to us something like a huge office building’.74 The New York World gave the readers a more sarcastic account of Metropolis when the authors stated ‘Mister Gillette’s wonderful plan to live in giant tenements … he thinks we should all be happy in these queer sky parlours’.75 The People’s Corporation had no impact and did not influence any new movements. In fact, interest in his ideas had faded at the end of the 1890s, and despite Gillette’s attempted promotion of his utopian ideals, they never again attracted interest. The Corporation of The Human Drift was a mechanism of the workers; however, in The World Corporation and The People’s Corporation the people were a mechanical part of the Corporation. Industrial managerial efficiency began to be considered as a science in 1890s, particularly with the theories of Frederick Winslow Taylor. Taylorism’s main aim was to improve economic efficiency, particularly labour productivity. His objectives were to decrease waste, end duplication and increase efficiency, and he advocated modern industrial methods. Mechanisation, particularly through production lines, would be more efficient and speed up all processes of production. On the surface there are many parallels with Gillette’s Corporation and throughout Gillette’s utopian work of over 30 years there was a military and production line aspect to his theories. He claimed that the ‘world is one vast machine’.76 The construction of the world industrial machine shall be found upon the same economic Law as underlies the construction of any individual part. That is to say, we should apply the same corporate intelligence in the

71 King Camp Gillette, The People’s Corporation (New York: Boni and Liveright, 1924), 167–168. 72 Gillette, The People’s Corporation, 168. 73 Gillette, as quoted by Adams, King C. Gillette, 25. 74 Anonymous, ‘Reply to Gronlund’, 2. 75 Dowling, Inventor of the Disposable Culture, 30. 76 Gillette, World Corporation, 140.

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 arrangement of cities and towns in their economic relation to production and distribution as the individual does in the economic arrangement of the different departments of a manufacturing plant.77

This was written in 1910 at the height of Taylor’s influence. Gillette’s utopian ideals build on what he perceived as imperfect existing commercial culture that would evolve and provide the link between the present and future. However, while Taylor argued the subordination of labour to the machine,78 Gillette claimed that ‘labourers are all parts of this machine’.79 Gillette’s policy on labour was further articulated in 1924 in The People’s Corporation. He used the United States Steel Corporation to illustrate his philosophy of labour. Gillette perceived the United States Steel Corporation to be ‘one vast self-contained machine, directed and controlled in every movement by a central corporate intelligence’.80 There would be the same manner of operation in the People’s Corporation. ‘The directors, managers, and workers are cogs in the machine, acting in response to the will of a corporate mind’.81 In The Human Drift the emphasis was on the control of production and distribution of the necessities of life, and an improvement in the living conditions of the society. Throughout the book he inferred a Taylorist approach to that production. In World Corporation and The People’s Corporation the Taylorist approach was clearly defined, particularly in the latter book. However, he did not mention Taylor in any of his work. By the 1920s, Taylorism was enthusiastically invoked by European emulators as ‘a characteristic feature of American civilisation’.82 Le Corbusier praised both Taylor and Henry Ford, whose philosophies paralleled that of Taylor’s, in his writings from the end of the First World War to the 1930s.83 The word ‘Taylorism’ appeared in almost every one of his books from Apres le Cubisme (1918) to La Ville Radieuse (1935). Like Gillette, Le Corbusier believed that mass production of housing was beginning of a new era, a new spirit and the laws of economy necessitated its implementation. The social inequities that were occurring in France at the time obliged architects to revise their values and revise the constitutive elements of the house. Le Corbusier claimed that: We should create a mass production state of mind. A state of mind for building mass production houses. A state of mind of living in mass production housing. A state of mind for conceiving mass production housing … we will come to the house tool, the mass production house that is healthy (morally too) and beautiful from the aesthetic of the work tools that go with our existence.84

The social circumstances would only be solved through architecture or revolution. The social mechanism was deeply disturbing and oscillated between improvement and catastrophe. Up to the mid-1930s, Le Corbusier believed that the application of Taylorism would avoid revolution. Metropolis predates ‘Contemporary City’ and the plan of ‘Radiant City’ (see Figure 10.6) by more than 30 years, and there are uncanny parallels. However, by the 1920s, when Le Corbusier was advocating prefabricated housing as a social solution that was to be architecture or revolution, the architectural aspect of Gillette’s mega-corporation had almost disappeared. The bloodless revolution that would occur with the building of Metropolis, ‘the wonderful city of the future’,85 that would spring into existence like magic and had been the key element of The Human Drift, had been reduced to the metaphoric terms of the White City. 77 Gillette, World Corporation, 141. 78 Frederick Winslow Taylor, The Principles of Scientific Management (New York and London: Harper and Brothers, 1911). 79 Gillette, World Corporation, 148. 80 Gillette, The People’s Corporation, 152. 81 Gillette, The People’s Corporation, 152. 82 Charles S. Maier, ‘Between Taylorism and Technology: European Ideologies and the Vision of Industry Productivity in the 1920s’, Journal of Contemporary History 5, no. 2 (1970), 27. 83 Mary McLeod, ‘Architecture or Revolution: Taylorism, Technology, and Social Change’, Art Journal 43, no. 2 (1983), 135. 84 Le Corbusier, Towards an Architecture, trans. Jean Louis Cohen (Los Angeles: The Getty Research Institute, 2007), 89. 85 Gillette, The Human Drift, 28–29.

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10.6 Le Corbusier’s Radiant City Source: Drawn by Author from Le Corbusier 2007.

After the publication of The People’s Corporation, Gillette appeared to be deeply discouraged by his failure to reform the world. He urged Sinclair to enter politics on a platform for change, and he no longer saw the Corporation as the bloodless revolution of the future. He claimed: I now realise more than ever the needs of ideals and idealists to mould public thought and opinions—but I do not believe that the overthrow of the present system, by either war or drastic catastrophe, is desirable. What we need is a better understanding of those elements of our system that are fundamental and tending towards that which we seek, a system dominated and controlled by a natural law.86

4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction The buildings of Metropolis were towers in a park, constructed of structural steel, glass, bricks and glazed tiles. They were fireproof buildings that were constructed explicitly in line with the emerging skyscraper technologies of New York and Chicago. Although Gillette nominated the location of the city, his design was not in sympathy with the landscape. He covered the entire topology with his three tiered platforms for the infrastructure, transport and gardens (Figure 10.7). The gardens were to be of immense beauty in the 50-foot high underground park that would be lit through domes of coloured glass in the ceiling. This artificial landscape was devoid of any natural landscape and natural lighting; it was a completely artificial creation above the covered natural landscape, but underneath the city. Although the city had gardens, it was devoid of natural beauty; in fact, the natural beauty was eliminated with the creation of the platforms. Apart from the need to generate electricity from Niagara Falls, the actual location of the city could have been anywhere. The manufacturing of the city was all prefabricated and extremely durable. Gillette described it as being ‘practically indestructible’. In Metropolis there were up to 1,000,000 rooms, and each of the hundreds of thousands of apartments would have exactly the same dimensions. Therefore the same shape and size of tiles would be used in these flats. However, these apartments would not be monotonous, as there was to be an endless variety of artistic designs and colourings on the tiles. The internal dome of 86 Gillette, as quoted by Gilbert, Designing the Industrial State, 177–178.

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10.7 Elevation of the apartment buildings with the three platforms below: the lower level utilities, mid-level transport system and upper level gardens Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Gillette 1976.

each of the thousands of buildings would be decorated with different motifs so no two buildings would be alike in artistic treatment. Under the system in Metropolis it would be like living in a mammoth hotel where the occupants would be free from all of the annoyances of housekeeping. There would be no kitchens in the apartments, and the dining rooms would be located in the central hall (see Plate 27). All of the food would be transported to the dining rooms from the buildings where it was prepared by the electronic transfer system. The circular form of the apartment buildings was perfectly picked for circulation of the community within each building. The grid system of the city was utilitarian in terms of facilities and transport. The high-rise buildings were equally distributed in a grid pattern for air and light and clear egalitarian spirit, and every modern convenience was to be integrated into the architecture. The choice of materials, particularly the glazed tiles, would have made a perfect White City, yet he distinguished his city, Metropolis, as being the Rainbow City of ‘prismatic tints of the rainbow’ (see Plates 25 and 26).87 Everything about Metropolis: the high-rise apartment living, the rainbow colouring of the city, the communal eating and the underground gardens was alien to the late nineteenth century ideals of urban 87 Gillette, The Human Drift, 108.

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life. It was extremely futuristic for the period. Although the commercial style was giving credence as commercial architecture, particularly in Chicago, it was unacceptable as a domestic architecture in late nineteenth century America. 5. Conclusion There appears to be two King Camp Gillettes: the ardent and passionate social reformer, and the inventor, businessman and multimillionaire. Both appear to be uncomfortable soulmates. The Human Drift was written before Gillette had invented the safety razor that established a successful business empire. It is his most interesting and influential book, and captured the dreams and desires of the mid-1890s. Although he continued to believe in his utopian Corporation, in World Corporation and The People’s Corporation the management of labour in the mechanised and industrial landscape played a more dominant role as the futuristic, magical and prefabricated city disappeared. Initially his influences in The Human Drift were clear. Bellamy’s Looking Backwards and the nationalist movement that was a consequence of its publication were clearly influential. There was a strong emphasis on the city and society that Bellamy predicted and Gillette’s attempted to make that society real. He attempted a solution to the social unrest, general strikes, unemployment, poverty and poor working and living conditions of the 1890s. At the time of the depression of 1893 the White City must have appeared to be something that was truly mystical and he clearly wished to emulate that magic, but using the science and technology of the day to create a solution to the social problems of the time. The technologies and science of the day made this magical appearance truly possible and prefabrication brought it closer to economic reality. In his later books the influence of Bellamy’s society was reduced and the corporate machine became the mechanical Tayloristic society. World Corporation and The People’s Corporation are far more businesslike; the emphasis is on the Corporation rather than the city and the society itself. The society disappeared into the machine of the Corporation. As the city disappeared, or at least became less descriptive and dominant, the Corporation became more influenced by Taylorism and scientific management. Although the principles of The Human Drift are repeated in World Corporation and The People’s Corporation these last two books are very different to The Human Drift in the application of these principles. In 1935 the three editors of Atlantic Monthly, John Dewey, Charles Beard and Edward Weeks were asked to list 25 books of the previous 50 years that had the greatest influence on thought and action in the world. The three men independently listed Karl Marx’s Das Kapital first and Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backwards second, making it the most influential American book. It had impacted on millions of lives.88 However, the realisation of Bellamy’s industrial army and a city that would accommodate the industrial army was perhaps not attractive to the American people, even through the hard times of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Gillette was correct in that the design of Metropolis was ahead of its time. His design predicted the urban designs and philosophies of the 1920s and 1930s, particularly those of Le Corbusier. While Le Corbusier’s designs were on a grand scale, they were an achievable scale, while the sheer scale of Metropolis made it an impossible goal and illusory. Many of the design features of Gillette’s apartment blocks, particularly internally, are similar to John Portman’s Hyatt Regency hotel in Atlanta designed in 1960. Gillette had taken the utopian ideals away from the community, such as the communities of Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation, Buckingham’s Victoria and Pemberton’s Happy Colony, and applied them to a nation. In his later work the massive scale and the highly emphasised mechanisation and militarisation of the corporate mind made it more reminiscent of the dystopia of Fritz Lang’s movie Metropolis released in 1927, where the machine and prefabrication dominated the city of endless tower blocks with one central controlling body (see Figure 10.8). Gillette’s nation would be a cooperative Corporation that was egalitarian in all aspects, including its housing. He wished to turn the Industrial Revolution into a social revolution through the perfect panacea of a corporation. However, by 1924 that social revolution had become a corporate machine that dominated society in every aspect. 88 Elliott, ‘Introduction’, viii.

10.8â&#x20AC;&#x192; Fritz Langâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Metropolis 1927, Reconstruction by Yannis Zavoleas, The University of Newcastle, Australia Source: With kind permission of Yannis Zavoleas.

Chapter 11

Bradford Peck—The World a Department Store

1. Background The population of American cities began to increase after the 1820s, primarily because the Industrial Revolution attracted not only the agricultural workers of America, but also immigration from Europe. Between 1846 and 1851 more than 1,000,000 Irish immigrants came to America as a result of the potato famines, primarily settling in the cities. The Metropolitan Board of Health, which extended over New York, Kings, Westchester and Richmond counties, as well as a few towns in the present Borough of Queens, was established in 1866. The Board’s committee consisted of nine commissioners. It attempted to regulate tenement conditions under the Tenement Housing Law of 1867. The committee found that more than half of the tenements surveyed had poor sanitary conditions that were leading to critical health issues. In 1884, John Collins, a Health Department inspector claimed that poverty and uncleanliness went together, not because he wanted to condemn the poor, but because they did not have the facilities that made it possible to be clean.1 The inadequate laws and their limited enforcement until 1901 were the outcome of compromises between entrepreneurial rights and the right of the community to protect its citizens. There were poor drainage and sanitary systems in the tenements; privies were often not connected to sewers and were located in the backyards, and were often overflowing. Cesspools were forbidden by the Act, but the conditions of the tenements made them unavoidable. The method of the sanitation required for the tenements was up to the discretion of the Board and the tenement landlords could satisfy the law by supplying a water tap somewhere in the house or yard. Before 1901, housing legislation was characterised by the inaccuracy of provisions to enforce the law, which in turn added to the problems of the already low standards set out in the Law.2 Robert Hunter, author of Tenement Conditions in Chicago (1901), Violence in the Labour Movement (1904) and Socialists at Work (1908), was an eyewitness and commentator on the conditions of poverty in America. He distinguished between the poor, who were able to sustain themselves, and paupers, who would no longer able to sustain themselves and required charity to survive. He noted that the poor gained enough to live upon only when they were working, and even the more fortunate of the labourers were only a few weeks away from actual distress and becoming paupers if their employment ceased. The poor might be able to sustain themselves, but they were not able to obtain the necessities that would permit them to maintain a state of physical efficiency.3 In 1900 the population of America was just over 76,000,000, and Hunter claimed that about 10,000,000 people in America of the working class were living in extreme poverty. Many people, and not only in the large cities, lived in unsanitary conditions and there was a high death rate from tuberculosis. About 30 per cent of industrial workers were employed only part of the year, adding to their difficulties in affording the simple necessities of life, such as housing and food. He stated that: A few years ago, on one of the coldest mornings of the winter, I saw a long line of shivering, half clothed, hungry looking men and women standing in front of the Cook County Outdoor Relief Department. They had come with bags and baskets to receive the doles of supplies. They were the public paupers gathered from the most wretched homes and districts in Chicago. Some were shamed faced, silent, and cowed; some was 1 Collins, as quoted by Roy Lubove, The Progressives and Slums: Tenement Housing Reform in New York City 1890–1970 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1962), 25. 2 Lubove, The Progressives and Slums, 27. 3 Robert Hunter, ‘Poverty and Pauperism’, in Poverty and Social Welfare in the United States, ed. Roy Lubove (New York: Hold, Rinehart and Winston, 1972), 8.

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 swearing, scaling, and quarrelsome; others were fearful, anxious, and hesitant: and some gave evidence of decency, still holding fast to their self-respect … This is not charity: this is brutality.4

This brutal poverty contrasted with the rise in entrepreneurialism in America in the late nineteenth century. In 1890, 200,000 American citizens controlled 70 per cent of the national wealth.5 The social environment of the time was favourable to entrepreneurs, whose institutions and goals promoted individualism, and as such they were the archetype of private capitalist development. The stratification of society and the well-defined functions of the individual that were the rigid pattern of European societies did not exist in America. The legacy of Lockian individualism, with an emphasis on the natural rights of liberty and property, provided the philosophical basis of American laissez faire. At the end of the nineteenth century faith in human progress became associated with the doctrines of social Darwinism—‘the survival of the fittest’. There was optimism in the increasing material welfare and in an advancing economy. In this environment, entrepreneurs invested heavily and condemned any government regulations that would interfere with their business.6 The corporation, the vehicle of entrepreneurial expansion, endowed a firm with ‘personality’, a separate legal entity and it also facilitated the management of a large accumulation of capital through the separation of ownership and management. It also conferred limited liability upon the shareholders. The corporation was free of government interference, since if a government wished to interfere with the corporate sector it had to change the legislation under which the corporation had been chartered.7 Gillette had seen that the corporation of the individual was the cause of the national distress, but considered that the single corporation of the People would be the cure. This belief in the power of the corporation was widespread, despite the panics and depressions in 1861, 1873, and 1893. Companies like United States Steel, International Harvester, Sears, Singer Sewing Machines and many others fell on hard times during these downturns, while other emerging companies declared bankruptcy.8 However, as Gillette predicted, other corporations of entrepreneurs such as Rockefeller, Carnegie, Gould and Morgan formed larger corporations through active takeovers, in the process creating an ideological justification of the competitive marketplace and resulting in the era of the large corporation. At the end of the nineteenth century the Standard Oil Company was the largest refiner of oil in the world, and it was seen to be carrying out a policy of cooperation with its suppliers and competitors; this was perceived as having resulted in lower prices and enabled them to maintain their monopoly.9 However, it attempted to absorb or destroy its competition by any available means. As the larger corporations became more successful in absorbing or destroying other companies, smaller entrepreneurs became more vulnerable to bankruptcy. The rise of corporations formed by joint stock companies in the 1880s and early 1890s made many people wealthy; however, the instability and ensuring depression of 1893 left monetary disorder, a great battle of standards, and more political upheaval. There was a reorganisation of industry in response to an intensification of competition to stay in business. Successful small businessman desired an end to the capitalist competition that was destroying so many of their businesses and livelihoods. The depression of 1893 dragged on until 1897. They questioned the suitability of their society; it was no longer the poor that could be affected by this market society—the middle class was now very vulnerable and looked for other solutions.10 The publication of Bellamy’s Looking Backwards was only one of many utopian novels that were written at the end of the nineteenth century. Most of the utopian fiction at this time was to negate the nineteenth century experience of a world that was in complete turmoil and constant change. Utopian fiction created a 4 Hunter, ‘Poverty and Pauperism’, 16. 5 Douglas Steeples and David O. Whitten, Democracy in the Depression of 1893 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1998), 20. 6 Peter George, The Emergence of Industrial America: Strategic Factors in American Economic Growth Since 1870 (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1982), 59. 7 George, The Emergence of Industrial America, 78. 8 Carl Kaysen, American Corporations Today (Cary, North Carolina and New York: Oxford University press, 1996), 53. 9 Rajeev J. Sawant, Infrastructure Investing: Managing Risk and Rewards for Pensioners, Insurance Companies and Endowments (Hoboken, New Jersey: John Wiley and Sons, 2010), 100–103. 10 Steeples and Whitten, Democracy in the Depression of 1893, 137.

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world that was constant, where nothing changed and everything was dependable.11 Utopian authors of this period attempted to validate the social remedies that were portrayed in their utopias. There was equally as much dystopian fiction that formalised a defence through parodies of what was seen as the naive social patterns of the social reform movements. Social turmoil, strikes and political upheaval in this uncertain time provided the raw material for fiction that exposed corruption and social problems. However, this defence did not dampen the enthusiasm for Looking Backwards or other novels in the same vein. In 1894, the year of publication of The Human Drift, at least eight utopian novels appeared.12 Looking Backwards had a longlasting influence well into the twentieth century. It also represented hope in the late nineteenth century and through the turbulent economic and social problems that continued to prevail in America. Cooperation, not competition, was seen to be the answer by many, and this belief became stronger throughout the 1890s. Major figures, such as the social reformer Reverend Hiram Vrooman, strongly supported the cooperative movement. He claimed ‘that social problems arise from selfishness in man and selfishness is caused by an unfavourable environment’.13 This sentiment was expressed by many others who considered that there was a decay in society as business required ‘the survival of the fittest’, and questioned how business could embrace Christian values. Bellamy’s society was egalitarian, ethical and socialistic; although extremely popular, it did not appeal to everyone in the cooperative movement. Bellamy had removed God from man’s life, and although Gillette wished to make heaven on earth so that God would reign in the hearts of the individual, God was still expressed through the all-powerful Corporate Soul.14 The self-made businessman Bradford Peck, owner and manager of a large department store in Lewiston, Maine, wished to reinstate the role of God in a cooperative corporate society and to remove any communist elements from that society. In 1900, he published The World a Department Store, a novel written as an expression of the philosophy that he attempted to realise. Although the novel was nowhere near as successful as Bellamy’s Looking Backwards, Peck highlighted the importance of a favourable environment in the city. He created a concept of a utopian city that would represent a truly middle class social revolution. 2. The World a Department Store The World a Department Store was written in the same vein as Bellamy’s Looking Backwards. Percy Brantford, Peck’s fictional persona, was a 48-year-old businessman who was greatly troubled by business competition and the losses arising from the reduced financial conditions of his customers, many of whom were indebted to him. Brantford claimed: Commencing in the year 1892, gigantic individual trusts and combinations were formed for the purpose of gaining control of certain products, so that it greatly became impossible for the smaller individual to compete with them: likewise the ordinary labouring people were kept down by the management of those great organisations, so that thousands of employees received salaries that were insufficient to supply them with the bare necessities of life.15

The mergers continued, with some business becoming larger and others going bankrupt; from 1895 to 1904 it became so prevalent that it was known as Great Merger Movement.16 Many were thrown into unemployment, while others faced lower wages in a depressed labour market. 11 Jean Pfaelzer, The Utopian Novel in America, 1886–1896: The Political Form (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984), 17. 12 Steeples and Whitten, Democracy in the Depression of 1893, 137. 13 Robert S. Fogarty, All Things New: American Communities and the Utopian Movement, 1860–1914 (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 173. 14 King Camp Gillette, World Corporation (Boston, Massachusetts: The New England News Company, 1910), 240. 15 Bradford Peck, The World a Department Store (Lewistown, Maine: privately printed, 1900), 4. 16 Robert E. Wright, ‘Capitalism and the Rise of the Corporate Nation’, in Capitalism Takes Command: The Social Transformation of the Nineteenth Century in America, ed. Michael Zakim and Gary J. Kornblith (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011), 167.

11.1 Ground plan of the Association’s cooperative city Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

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Worrying about his business, Brantford was suffering from nervous stress and was unable to sleep. On 31 December 1899 he took a double dose of the sleeping powders his physician had prescribed for him and fell into a deep sleep, only to wake up in hospital on 7 April 1925, physically unchanged over the 25 year period. He woke up in a world that was completely unrecognisable to him. On waking, he was told about the Cooperative Association of America, which had formed only a year after he had fallen into his deep sleep. The Association’s aim was to recreate cities and towns under a system of cooperation whereby it was possible to practice Christianity by creating God’s will on earth—a heaven on earth. The organisation was begun by a merchant, Peck’s second fictional persona, who had studied the social conditions in America for many years.17 This merchant had begun with a small store that had developed into a vast department store. He decided to create the world’s department store—the Cooperative Association of America. An old-fashioned brick homestead was purchased and completely renovated throughout: it was arranged as the first floor for a cafe and dining rooms, the second floor was furnished as a ladies’ parlour, social, reading, music and other retiring rooms. The other rooms were open for the benefit of the members and patrons of the restaurant. This was the first step to the creation of a cooperative nation. To finance the development of the Association, the merchant wrote a book, The World a Department Store, a story of life under a cooperative system. Only a few months after this ‘world famous book’ was published, money began to flow in from ‘noble Christian men and women residing in all parts of the world subscribing for shares of the Cooperative Association of America’.18 The shares were $100 each and they were issued with the understanding that there would be no dividends for five years. The Association began to grow. In the intervening 25 years the Association had become a National Trust that offered the individual everything that they desired, providing them with a nearly heavenly existence. It was now a universal system throughout the country. The Association had a President, many VicePresidents and Chiefs who comprised the General Executive Board. Then there were the departments of Treasury, Real Estate, Agriculture, Manufacturing, Service Supplies, Shipping and Transport, Education and the Board of Physicians, Publishing Department, Department of Fisheries, Board of Music and Entertainment, Board of Public Works, the Electrical Department and Board of Inventions. How these positions were elected Peck did not say; however, he did say that if they proved to be incompetent or corrupt they could be removed,19 and that elected positions had been replaced by true men and co-workers of the Association under the charge of the different Department Boards.20 Brantford was guided through the Association’s city by five companions, which included a rather tedious romantic diversion. They showed all the aspects of the city and all the departments of the Association. The city had been completely rebuilt with great avenues (see plan in Figure 11.1). The buildings were vast monuments, and the Association had deliberately planned a city so that ‘all work was to create [with] everything beautiful to the eye’.21 The aesthetics of the buildings were very important to Peck. He described the environment in detail, and in this environment people thrived and ‘glowed’ with the effects of a better life. The city’s beauty and environment was part of the healing process of the decay of the society he had known in 1900, and yet it was achieved in only 25 years. Brantford enquired of his companions as to how such a remarkable transformation could have been made in such a short time, as it did not seem physically possible. They explained that under the old competitive system at the end of the nineteenth century there was tremendous waste in all departments of business from the lack of cooperation. The capitalists were too greedy in their pursuit of takeovers and larger profits, and labour unions caused disruptions through general strikes that resulted in tremendous upheaval in all industries. The competition that existed at the end of the nineteenth century had led to business failures and contributed to this waste. There were also people employed in stock speculation, gambling, manufacturing and retailing of liquor and tobacco, together with an endless number of vile and terrible businesses that had no real value to the world. There were small armies of people that were employed in useless industries, such 17 Peck, The World a Department Store, 20. 18 Peck, The World a Department Store, 41. 19 Peck, The World a Department Store, 302. 20 Peck, The World a Department Store, 70. 21 Peck, The World a Department Store, 75.

11.2â&#x20AC;&#x192; Floor plan of the apartment buildings Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

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as lawyers, politicians, advertising, book agents, peddlers, and tramps; they were parasites who further added to the waste of society. ‘The old-time everlasting competition acted the like sting of insects, causing misery and suffering from failures, bankruptcy sales, peddlers, and others so engaged; and these were ever a menace to the legitimate dealers’.22 The removal of this waste through the system of cooperation under the Association made it possible to build the city that was ‘heaven on earth’. All of the departments of the Association worked together to improve the cities and their infrastructure, there was no waste and all resources went into improvements to the city.23 The magnificent buildings of the city were a result of a perfect cooperative system. However, unlike Gillette’s Metropolis and The United Company, and Bellamy’s Looking Backwards, there was no egalitarianism in Peck’s social order or in the Association. Peck perceived the socialist movement to be progressive and sympathetic towards the cooperative State.24 Although Peck was clearly influenced by Bellamy’s vision of the future25 and in the structure of the cooperative Corporation, the egalitarian industrial army was far from Peck’s vision. The inhabitants of the city were members of the Association and had voting rights, although Peck did not define what these voting rights were or the length of the terms of the governing body, but the more shares the member owned in the Association the more votes the member had. Additionally, the houses were not the same, and varied in style and size. When a member chose to procure a house of their own from the Association, the member would apply to the Board of Architects in the Real Estate Department and select a location where house could be erected ‘as his station in life and means allow’.26 Despite his pleas for justice for the working class, it is clear throughout the book that the injustice that Brantford/Peck repeatedly railed about was to the small businessman through the avaricious practices of the individual capitalist corporation, and this caused injustice to filter through to the working classes. The working class had a role in the society as servants and attendants. Their conditions were greatly improved, with a six-hour working day, and their remuneration was well beyond subsistence. Nevertheless, they were clearly subordinates in the social order. When visiting the house of the wealthy bureaucrat, Brantford and his companions were served by two attendants and he enquired about their role. It was explained to him that in his era women’s greatest annoyance arose from incompetent and unintelligent servants; however, now they were well educated no matter what department or vocation in life that they occupied. The hostess explained that today: Under our social system of life, we have a special department where those desiring to engage attendants are supplied. The employers are charged by the Cooperative Association for the attendant’s service like any other commodity, and each month settle with the Treasury Department. The attendants themselves, like all members, draw a regular income. Attendants in hours of labour enjoyed the same privileges as all other members of the Cooperative Association. Those who live in the houses today are looked upon as companions, and the relations existing between the head of the house and the attendants are like those who formally knew as existing between confidential clerks and their employers in large business enterprises.27

The working classes were content with their role in society. Brantford noted their contentment and how ‘they served in a delightful manner’. Each of the trades was dressed in coloured uniforms so they would easily identify each other’s skills,28 and to standardise their appearance. Visiting a large ship-building site where hundreds of mechanics were employed, the workers worked near blast furnaces where conditions had been greatly improved and employees were given long breaks from the heat. Brantford stated that in the shipyards the workers showed ‘faces of intelligence, and their manner to devoting perfect contentment and true happiness’.29 However, although there was a clear social structure, ambition and promotion was 22 Peck, The World a Department Store, 301. 23 Peck, The World a Department Store, 293–296. 24 Peck, The World a Department Store, 126–127. 25 Peck, The World a Department Store, 187. 26 Peck, The World a Department Store, 50. 27 Peck, The World a Department Store, 226. 28 Peck, The World a Department Store, 49. 29 Peck, The World a Department Store, 270.

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encouraged in the education system and it was possible to improve one’s social status, as Peck himself had done. Nevertheless, Peck betrayed an employer’s bias of the social structure, and the standardisation of the working classes throughout The World a Department Store revealed a distinct opposition to the union movement.30 Brantford visited the Education Department and noted that physical education was one of the important features of the children’s education. A Board of Physicians was an important part of the Education Board. The children were taught the essentials of good health and pure living to be able to maintain good health. Competition was encouraged in young children to create a spirit that would lead them to their studies, and to be creative and inventive. The education system produced superior abilities in men and women so that they would be able to fill positions in the various departments of the cooperative life. Many people were under the impression that a pure system of socialism or cooperation would eliminate competition, but it is only competition for making money that they wanted to eliminate.31 However, apart from physical exercise and the encouragement of competition in the students he did not describe any curriculum. Money no longer existed under the governance of the Association, and all citizens were paid for their services by the Association through a system of coupons. The coupons were issued with an identity card. These coupons paid for everything in the cashless society: meals at the communal restaurants, goods from the stores, travel and assistants; everything was rigidly controlled by the Association. There were no private kitchens and all food was served at public restaurants or delivered to the houses. The family as a child rearing unit had disappeared, and children were raised in groups by experts who would be in charge of their development. The waste, and vile practices such as drinking alcohol, smoking tobacco and gambling, had been eliminated from society. There was no crime so there was no need for judges, courts and lawyers. Brantford noted the improvements of the morals of society; he gazed around the crowd at a theatre noting how ‘beautiful’ people looked with glowing faces. The system of cooperation had changed society, not only in its living conditions but also in its morals. By 1925, this cooperative system had become international. From the very beginning the system of the organisation removed the terrible causes of poverty and distress, resulting in the effective conditions now to be seen everywhere, creating what we believe Almighty God intended should ultimately follow as a result of the teaching of Jesus Christ, ‘thy will on earth as we believe it exists in heaven’.32

The transformation of this earthly heaven was within the grasp of reality through the elimination of greed corporations and the adoption of the system of cooperation founded on true Christian principles. The society was strictly Christian and there were no alternative faiths. 3. The Political Philosophy In 1873, Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner wrote The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today, a satire of the greed and political corruption in post-Civil War America. The expression the ‘Gilded Age’ meant something golden on the outside but dull and possibly even rotten on the inside, and this expression has become synonymous with the economic revolution of America at the end of the nineteenth century. In this environment there were possibilities for people to advance themselves. Peck began his working life in 1865 at the age of 12 as an errand boy, and by 1880 he had founded his own store in Lewiston, Maine. In 1891, his store occupied three storeys and had 15 departments, with 60 employees and an annual turnover of $250,000.33 He had thrived under the competitive laissez faire system and the B. Peck company was one of the largest department 30 Francine C. Cary, ‘The World a Department Store: Bradford Peck and the Utopian Endeavour’, American Quarterly 29, no. 4 (1977), 378. 31 Peck, The World a Department Store, 142. 32 Peck, The World a Department Store, 95. 33 Wallace Evan Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East: Bradford Peck and the Cooperative Association of America’, The New England Quarterly 20, no. 4 (1947), 472.

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stores in the state. After the panic of 1893 and the rise and the continued rise of the monopolies and larger corporations he began to study and support the emerging cooperative movement.34 Peck mentioned two clear influences in his study of the cooperative movement: Edward Bellamy and Henry George.35 Both Bellamy and George were so significant to Peck that the co-workers’ certificates issued by the Association bore their photographs with an etching of Christ as the Good Shepherd.36 George’s Progress and Poverty was published in 1879; it was translated into 15 languages with repeated editions and a circulation that counted in the millions of copies.37 He considered the great enigma of the time; with greater industrial power and laboursaving devices, why was labour overworked and underpaid with widespread poverty, yet surrounded by prosperity? He stipulated remedies such as greater economy in government, improved habits of industry and thrift, better education, minimum government interference, more general distribution of land and cooperation of supply and production. He stated: Cooperation can produce no general results that competition will not produce. It is not because of competition that increasing productive power fails to add to the reward of labour; it is because competition is one-sided. Land is monopolised and the competition of producers for its use forces wages to a minimum and gives all the advantage of increasing productive power to landowners in higher rents and increasing land values. Destroy this monopoly, and competition could only exist to a competition the end that cooperation aims at—to give each what he fairly earns. Destroy this monopoly, and industry must become the cooperative of equals.38

George believed that people owned the product of their labour. However, the rent from land should be equally distributed to the citizens of the community, rather than being privately owned. In 1878, George delivered the ‘Moses’ lecture that became famous after the publication of Progress and Poverty. In the lecture George demonstrated how the social programme of Moses was consistent with his own social philosophy and economics. Moses worked towards improving this life as well as the hereafter. Moreover, Moses believed in a minimal role for government and that the current state of the nation was corrupt and morally bankrupt, even in the Church.39 Peck stated that it was the study of Bellamy and George that led to the founding of the ‘twentieth century Christian organisation, our present People’s trust and Cooperative Association of America’.40 However, Peck considered that at the end of the nineteenth century the business conditions had become so competitive that it made it impossible to remain in the competitive system and act in a charitable Christian manner. He claimed that people regularly donated to charities, but in reality did not act charitably in their business transactions.41 This question of living the Christian ethic in a time of national distress was addressed in a bestseller, In His Steps, by Charles Sheldon, published in 1896. It was originally serialised in the Chicago Advance and was later translated into 22 languages. Because the original publisher did not secure the copyright it was published by over 70 publishers throughout the world; by 1930 the number of copies published would run into the millions, with the final total unknown.42 The book asks, ‘What would Jesus do?’ It consisted of stories of a group of individuals who have come together under the guidance of Reverend Maxwell to try to apply Christian practices in their work. However, the book also demonstrated the difficulties in doing this. One newspaper proprietor, Rollin, decided to run his business on purely Christian grounds but found himself in severe financial trouble because he was losing all his clientele. He was not reporting crime details, sensational prize fights, scandals and horrors of various sorts. People were 34 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East’, and Cary, ‘The World a Department Store’. 35 Peck, The World a Department Store, 187. 36 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East’, 480. 37 A. W. Madsen, ‘Preface’, in Progress and Property, ed. A. W. Madsen (London: The Hogarth Press Ltd, 1953), v. 38 Henry George, Progress and Poverty, ed. A. W. Madsen (London: The Hogarth Press Ltd, 1953), 124–5. 39 Aharon Shapiro, ‘Moses, Henry George’s Inspiration’, American Journal of Economics and Sociology 47, no. 4 (1988). 40 Peck, The World a Department Store, 187. 41 Peck, The World a Department Store, 171. 42 Charles Sheldon, In His Steps (New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1972), v.

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simply not interested in good news.43 In fact, there is a pessimistic nuance throughout In His Steps. The book ends with the basic failure of most of the people to live up to the Christian standards in their workplace and the Reverend Maxwell longing for a future where these principles would be embodied in society. However, for Peck, the cooperative movement would make it possible to live a practical everyday Christian life due to the elimination of inhuman competition and the suitability of society under the Association.44 It was impossible to realise a Christian life unless ‘a man was willing to forsake the every pursuing Demon of self-seeking, and become a member of the grand organisation’.45 It was only the Association that made the society that Reverend Maxwell desired possible. Peck’s society was a homogeneous Christian society with a distinct social structure, although individuals were not tied to a particular ‘class’. The social structure evolved through education and individuals’ career choices. The first stages of the Association described in Peck’s The World a Department Store are autobiographical. Both Brantford and the merchant are his fictional personae. Initially his study of cooperation led to the forming of what appeared to be a private club. The headquarters of the club were in an old brick mansion, which contained a restaurant and a space for communal gatherings that had been redecorated ‘with wallpaper, deep velvet carpets, oak furniture and a profusion of ferns and potted plants’.46 The restaurant, meeting rooms and headquarters for the cooperative club resembled a ‘magical land’; one commentator observed that it was intended ‘to elevate the thoughts of those who entered it’.47 This magical environment would remind the visitor of the ideals the cooperation club stood for. Initially, members of the cooperative club extended to his staff of the department store. Then he extended his concept of cooperation by forming the Cooperative Association of America. Peck devised various categories of membership. His co-workers could contribute $300 of working capital, and in return the Association promised permanent employment with incomes equal to the total wealth that they produced. Other members could pay $25, and although not guaranteed a job, they gained a rebate every six months on what they bought in the store. Sympathetic members of the public might become associate members for the cost of $2, and this membership ensured discounts at the store.48 With these funds, the sales of The World a Department Store, the donation of a plot of land by Peck and the contribution of labour and construction materials by his backers, the construction of the cooperative store and the market by the Association was guaranteed. The backers of this store believed that it would revolutionise society by linking producers and consumers and eliminating additional costs of banking, marketing departments and the middlemen.49 The Cooperative Association of America attracted the interest of many social reformers. Benjamin Orange Flower, editor of the radical reform journal Arena, and the Reverend Hiram Vrooman, President of the Co-workers Fraternity or Working Men’s College based in Boston, were among those who endorsed Peck’s movement. Flower claimed that the time of individualism was coming to an end and that cooperation and mutualism would bloom in the Fraternal State,50 and he hailed the Cooperative Association of America as ‘the movement that above all promises the greatest result in this country’.51 Within two weeks of meeting Vrooman, Peck had deposited 90 per cent of the stock of the Association with Co-workers Fraternity, Boston. This collaboration would benefit both associations. They were ‘planning the establishment of a great university with branches at every industrial centre of co-workers. With the prospect of an almost unlimited income it hopes that its university may lead in usefulness all be universities of the world’.52 Vrooman’s Co-workers Fraternity had been incorporated under the 43 Sheldon, In His Steps, 104–110. 44 Peck, The World a Department Store, 171. 45 Peck, The World a Department Store, 74. 46 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East’, 479. 47 Cary, ‘The World a Department Store’, 480. 48 Cary, ‘The World a Department Store’, 480. 49 Maxwell Mogensen, Legendary Locals of Androscoggin Country (Charlestown, South Carolina: Arcadia Publishing, 2013), 22. 50 B. O. Flower, ‘The Divine Quest (Number Three)’, Arena 28 (1902), 489. 51 Flower, as quoted by Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East’, 471. 52 Hiram Vrooman, ‘The Cooperative Association of America’, Arena 26 (1901), 582.

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laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for educational purposes. He had used the inconsistency of corporation laws between the states to set up a cooperative community as a university to avoid the ugly legal complications that could arise from the simple joint stock form of organisation. No doubt they had an educational function, but their main purpose was a cooperative community.53 In short, this was the beginning of Peck’s vision for an incorporated world. The Cooperative Association of America grew rapidly, and by 1902 it had accumulated $250,000 worth of property and the future looked very optimistic for the Association.54 The same year there was a national cooperative conference in Lewiston. Before the conference the Co-workers Fraternity issued a resolution: ‘In our belief, the economic power [of the industrial corporation] has superseded the political power and is now the militant and ruling power of the world, and industrial Corporation is the only force capable of democratising this economic power.’55 The market society had taken control and was governing the nation by proxy, and the only way to reclaim this control was through the mechanism of industrial corporations. With the growth and success of the Cooperative Association of America, it must have appeared that the corporate model was the future of society. Peck became the president of the Association without salary, which according to Vrooman was a gift to the Association of $10,000 per annum in cash. He made it clear that the organisation was not communistic. ‘It does not pay all co-workers equally. Its aim is to pay each one what his labour creates; no more, no less it is undeniable that some men can create more wealth than others’.56 Each co-worker owned, and was paid for, their own production. However, within this societal framework all co-workers were in fact business partners and their earthly interests were mutual, so it was in each other’s interest to work together in cooperation. The Association would divide all wealth among its co-workers, which would enable the Association to be chief of all the competitors in the industrial world. The co-workers were literally ‘partners’ in the Association. Everything around them was owned by the Association, and therefore they had a vested interest in their surroundings, and this included the city. Throughout The World a Department Store Brantford’s companions expressed their civic pride and joy in the beauty of their city.57 The Board of Architects from the Real Estate Department designed the city, and even selected the location where the houses of the co-workers could be erected. The city consisted of broad avenues in a grid system cut by angular avenues, and every three blocks there was a park and a public square. The proportion of open space, packs, public squares and avenues was approximately 75 per cent. This was a city in a park. The year 1900 was the peak of the City Beautiful movement, and the park and boulevard system of Peck’s city was representative of this movement. The parks and green space movement of England that had been influenced by John Arthur Roebuck was equally relevant in the United States. Economic considerations shaped the application of pollution/nuisance laws in regard to the environment. There had been attempts to increase injunctions against environmental nuisances as early as 1837 in America. Smoke pollution was a physical manifestation of economic progress in the cities that depended upon industries. This was exacerbated by the overcrowding, slum tenements, and poor sanitation and drainage. Landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted was one of the few Americans who emphasise that parks were a ‘palliative’ for urban ills. He became convinced that the air of the cities physically affected people by forcing them to breathe in the corrupt and irritating matters in the air. Parks and parkways were a major way to rescue the urban atmosphere from the effects of noxious elements from the polluting industries—they were the lungs of the city.58 Olmsted also wished to develop an environmentalism with the goal of social order and cohesion. Although he was originally a conservative reformer through political action, he began to consider practical solutions to the problems of urban democracy. He travelled to London and Europe and realised 53 Ross E. Paulson, Radicalism and Reform: The Vrooman Family and American Social Thought, 1837–1937 (Lewisville: University of Kentucky, 1968), 172–185. 54 Paulson, Radicalism and Reform, 178. 55 Vrooman, as quoted by Paulson, Radicalism and Reform, 178. 56 Vrooman, ‘The Cooperative Association of America’, 585. 57 Peck, The World a Department Store, 26. 58 Martin V. Melosi, Effluent America: Cities, Industry, Energy and the Environment (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2001), 38.

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that the designs of the London parks satisfied his social ideals. The London parks were a magnet for all urbanites; they were an instrument of class reconciliation and democratisation. Activities in the parks, such as horse riding, ball games and promenading, brought people of the different classes together and these activities were physical and visual evidence of an independent, organic society.59 The park created a space for recreation that promoted national harmony. Olmsted wrote, ‘as a means of education and grace, of sweetness and light, it is worth more to those who can resort to it, then literature or the fine arts in any and all forms’.60 City parks were also a physical space that prevented people from being ‘hemmed in’ by bricks and mortar. Olmsted sought to substitute city parks for the outside of the city, to bring the frontier into the city and civilise it. He believed that the destruction of the Industrial Revolution and the Civil War had also destroyed simple and sensible social life of the country and this rural destruction had resulted in the worst form of urbanisation, which alienated the classes. However, despite his ‘return to nature’ mantra he was no respecter of existing natural forms unless they could be subordinated to his plans. Instead of individual parks that were freestanding, which was the common practice of his era, Olmsted’s concept was to create a system of parks that was connected to tree-lined parkways. His parks were comprehensive and multipurpose, with a boulevard system that increased internal interaction with the city’s inhabitants and its other systems. Parks, together with libraries and galleries, ‘soften and humanise the rude, educate and enlighten the ignorant, and give continual enjoyment to be educated’.61 The park’s purpose was not just to improve the physical health of the inhabitants, but also to improve their moral health. In urban planning he developed a park and boulevard system that was the antecedent of the City Beautiful movement. However, the City Beautiful movement was not just an extension of Olmsted’s park and boulevard system. The impact of Darwinism separated the City Beautiful movement from the analysis of Olmsted. The supporters of the movement believed less in Olmsted’s view of beauty as a palliative and more in the shaping influence of beauty. Darwinism conceded that man was created in the image of God and shared some of God’s attributes. Therefore, man required a beautified and naturalistic reprieve from the artificial imprisonment of the city. Supporters of the City Beautiful movement advocated a secular salvation and a conviction that a beautiful environment would create more valuable humans and flexible cities.62 The environmentalism of the City Beautiful movement exercised social control that was normative and behavioural. However, beauty could have utilitarian properties as well. A broad, imposing boulevard not only added to the city’s beauty, but it also served as an effective moderator of traffic. This mixture of beauty and utility led to the coining of the word ‘beautility’.63 Beauty and utility in the city led to an efficient city. Ugly cities were wasteful, dirty cities, and pollution led to a great deal of waste; it spoiled food and clothing and it spread over houses, destroying paintwork or staining bricks. The benefits of beauty and utility led to a balanced and harmonious city. ‘If the city became the locus of harmony, mutual responsibility, and interdependence between classes, mediated by experts, it would be a peaceful, productive place, not a stark contrast to rural scenery’.64 Moral reformers of the late nineteenth century claimed that to elevate the moral character of a city dweller there was a need to transform the physical conditions of their lives. They believed that the development of parks, playgrounds, public baths, swimming pools, gymnasia and free concerts were essential to develop the moral character of the urban city dweller. An Ohio newspaper expressed this through the idea of a spotless town: ‘The town which has well-kept streets, beautiful parks, attractive 59 William H. Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement (Baltimore, Maryland and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), 12. 60 Olmsted, as quoted by Robert Lewis, ‘Frontier and Civilisation in the Thought of Frederick Law Olmsted’, American Quarterly 29, no. 4 (1977), 402. 61 Olmsted, as quoted by Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement, 14. 62 Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement, 80. 63 Barry J. Cullingworth and Roger Caves, Planning in the US: Policies, Issues, and Processes (New York: Routledge, 1997), 63. 64 Wilson, The City Beautiful Movement, 82.

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home grounds, plenty of fresh air and generally favourable sanitary conditions is the town the moral development and industrial progress of which will always commended.’65 A clean town, parks and fresh air would stimulate a moral society. Benjamin Orange Flower believed that a transformation of the urban environment would give new and joyous significance to the lives of millions who had long been excluded from meaning and comfort. ‘Surely the moral dividends of such a change—in transforming lives and lifting spirits—cannot fail to be enormous!’66 The White City of 1893 represented a moral alternative to the urban reality. The Court of Honour (Figure 10.1) struck millions of visitors with something like religious awe. It was publicly declared an ‘ideal city’, a ‘dream city’, an ‘ephemeral city’ or a ‘heavenly city’. It uplifted the urban environment, which would have an impressive effect on human behaviour. ‘The moral destiny of the city could be influenced by its physical character’.67 Peck wished to replicate what he perceived as heaven on earth in the context of the architecture of the City Beautiful movement, and to improve the environment and the morality of the city’s inhabitants. Harmony was an essential element to the buildings and also the city. In The World a Department Store it was explained to Brantford that the: board of engineers and architects entirely changed cities by the laying out of new cities and avenues, correcting modern buildings, all of which were of the most artistic design; one universal law regulated the construction of all buildings, so that they could harmonise in their relationship to each other … It offers the individual everything desired to make this life as near heavenly existence as it is possible to enjoy on this earth.68

The streets and highways, together with the system of parks, were proof of a perfect cooperative system. The chosen architecture was in the Beaux-arts style, reminiscent of the Columbian Exposition. This monumental style had a strong collaborative bias; sculptural and mural elements, the engineering and architectural designs, the landscaping design and the municipal improvements were required to achieve the artistic unity and harmony.69 This collaborative bias, and the scale of these plans, depended on political skill to implement them. Comprehensive planning was needed to realise these city improvements, but local problems occurred, such as winding streets, the instability of elite residential sections, polluted water supplies, the demolition and building over of traditional squares and small, unkempt public parks in the absence of civic parks. In America in 1900, after the architects of the City Beautiful movement had submitted their plans it was up to the political skills of the campaigners who wished to implement these plans to persuade the public to accept them.70 However, Peck removed these obstacles by placing the new cooperative city in a central part of the state of Maine, where there was no city and no existing problems. The reality of the cities of the turn of the century was far from the concepts of the City Beautiful movement. The American Industrial Revolution had a similar impact on American cities to those of England, with overcrowding, corruption, pollution, economic depression and disease caused by poverty and poor housing producing a climate of social unrest, violence, labour strikes and disease. There was also a fear of revolt in the oppressed and overcrowded areas. This degradation of living conditions was an ongoing theme with utopian writers; but with Bellamy, Gillette and Peck their writings expressed a sense of immediacy towards finding solutions.71 There was a general perception that decay, both physically and morally, in society 65 Ohio newspaper, as quoted from Jon A. Peterson, Birth of City Planning in the United States, 1840–1917 (Baltimore, Maryland: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 113. 66 Paul Boyer, Urban Masses and Moral Order in America 1820–1920 (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1992), 181. 67 Boyer, Urban Masses and Moral Order in America 1820–1920, 183. 68 Peck, The World a Department Store, 39–40. 69 William H. Wilson, ‘The Ideology, Aesthetics and Politics of the City Beautiful Movement’, in The Rise of Modern Urban Planning in 1800–1914, ed. Anthony Sutcliffe (London: Mansell, 1980), 170. 70 Wilson, ‘The Ideology, Aesthetics and Politics of the City Beautiful Movement’, 187. 71 Edward Bellamy, Looking Backward (Boston, Massachusetts: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1967), 10–11, and King Camp Gillette, The Human Drift (New York: Delmar, 1976), 46.

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and social collapse was imminent. Peck’s city, stretched out with grand boulevards and open spaces, was the quintessence of the City Beautiful movements’ ideology. His emphasis on beauty and space to produce a more moral and efficient city supported his belief that this environment would bring about this transformation of the city and the society. The Cooperative Association of America began to expand, and it appeared that it was likely to achieve its goals. In November 1906 the Association listed assets of $226,182.01 and liabilities of $168,333.20, with a comfortable surplus of $57,848.81. However, a closer examination of the balance sheet revealed that from a legal position the Association was on the brink of bankruptcy. The Association had embarked on an ambitious programme of expansion that they planned to support on the strength of an undersubscribed issue of bonds. The fund of gold bonds was registered at $1,000,000, but only $139,650 was subscribed. This was followed by a series of business failures. In 1907 Peck withdrew from the organisation and the directors abandoned many of the theoretical aspects of the cooperative programme and adapted a modified profitsharing plan for the store Lewistown.72 In May 1912 the Cooperative Association of America was dissolved and the store was returned to Peck. Only a mild form of profit-sharing for the employees of Peck’s business remained, but Peck never lost his zeal for cooperative reform.73 Progressive politician Henry Demarest Lloyd compared Peck with Robert Owen, and stated that the English cooperative movement only succeeded because of middle class support by humanitarians.74 There is some similarity, in that they were both self-made men, and they both supported socialistic schemes financially and philosophically. While Lloyd’s comment indicates the importance of the middle class to social reform, it also highlights the problems for this source of reform. Owen and Peck were both extremely paternalistic in their socialism. Accusations were made against Peck, stating that he lacked a proper cooperative spirit. Like Owen, there was discontent with Peck’s leadership. Peck clearly ran the Association with the ‘defined hierarchy of functionaries’. In the fictional Cooperative Association of America, the inhabitants of the city were happy to be governed by the Board of Directors and Departments. However, in the real Cooperative Association of America, the co-workers who had theoretically been united with the production of the labour did not want a boss. The workers maintained that ‘Peck’s dictatorial manner and the lack of democratic control undermined the long-range goal [of the Association]’.75 Although his goals for the ideal city were sincerely held, the implementation of the Association and its governance was still within the earthly provenance of the department store owner. 4. The Architecture and the Reconstruction Peck believed in the power of architecture. His department store in Lewiston, Maine, was commonly known as ‘the great department store’, and was built in 1899 on the corner of Maine and Lisbon. It was designed to impress, with three acres of ground space, and advertised itself as having 37 stores under one roof. Its glossy modern facade was described as being ‘the finest small city department store in the United States’.76 Bradford Peck’s house, designed by successful architect George M. Coombs in 1893, the year of the Columbian Exposition in Chicago, has Colonial revival features, with a Queen Anne style wraparound porch. It is one of the architectural features of Lewistown and was listed on the National Register of Historic Houses in 2009 for its significance in the areas of commerce, social history and architecture. His house reflects the optimism and idealism that produced the City Beautiful movement and that he projected in his design for the Cooperative City of the Association. Not only did Peck supply a plan of the city (see Figure 11.1), but there are also 11 detailed drawings of the significant buildings of this city. The artist, Harry C. Wilkinson, rendered the main buildings of the city such that the municipal restaurant was similar to the neoclassical city halls of the late nineteenth 72 Paulson, Radicalism and Reform: The Vrooman Family and American Social Thought, 1837–1937, 184. 73 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East: Bradford Peck and the Cooperative Association of America’, 485. 74 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East’, 485. 75 Cary, ‘The World a Department Store: Bradford Peck and the Utopian Endeavour’, 383. 76 Davies, ‘The Collectivist Experiment Down East: Bradford Peck and the Cooperative Association of America’, 490.

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11.3â&#x20AC;&#x192; The manufacturing plants of the city Source: Drawn by Author from Peck 1900.

century (see Plate 30). Wilkinson also illustrated apartment buildings with conventional Dutch gables adorning the building, and he included the ground plans of the apartments with a bedroom, a parlour and bathroom, that were grouped into four and two per floor in a two-storey building with an attic (Figures 11.2 and 11.4 a and b). These apartments were actually built in the Amana Community and still existed at the time.77 The administrative building in the centre of the city dominated the central part of the city, signifying the power of the departments of the Association (Plate 28 and 29). The plan of the city shows domestic areas and government areas mixed with a substantial factory sector on the left side of the plan. The manufacturing plants show significant buildings in the Beaux-arts style, but with large chimneys belching smoke (Figure 11.3). In the illustration, people stroll along the tree-lined streets of these factories oblivious to the pollution from the chimneys, as if the beauty of the building would negate these hazards. The close proximity of the manufacturing plants to the centre of town and to the residences appears to be at odds with what Peck was attempting to achieve, but the sheer size of the manufacturing sector does highlight the importance of industry in society. From Peckâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s plan, the city was well equipped with supply stores, athletics building, schools and public restaurants; there were plenty of entertainment buildings, such as public libraries, theatres, music halls and opera houses. There were an excessive number of Christian churches, highlighting the religious devotion and morality of the inhabitants, but Peck did not keep the traditional east-west orientation for these churches. Instead, they are oriented to the most attractive view and in the most aesthetically pleasing position. 77 Dolores Hayden, The Grand Domestic Revolution: A History of Feminist Designs for American Homes, Neighbourhoods, and Cities (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, England: The MIT Press, 1981), Figures 2.6 and 138.

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11.4 Elevations: a) Front of the apartment buildings; b) side view of the apartment buildings; c) the exhibition pavilion; d) a hotel; and e) the printing factory and administration Source: From Author’s reconstruction as described in Peck 1900.

5. Conclusion Peck stated that The World a Department Store was not intended to be a literary effort, and he was no writer. However, it was intended to be a tract that would reform society. It was the forecast of the future to come. Like Gillette, he believed that Bellamy’s society in Looking Backwards could become a reality through current business models. Peck believed that monopolies were a good thing for society, but not left in the hands of the individual. The Cooperative Association of America was a massive public monopoly that tightly controlled the entire society. Everything was controlled through the series of departments of the Association, and each citizen carried a numbered identification card. Peck’s philosophy was that the governance of society could be run on the same basis as a department store. Each of these departments closely scrutinised everything under its jurisdiction. He believed that with the growth of the monopoly of the Association, political elections and governments would become redundant, but unfortunately he did not put any alternative political structure in its place, except for a board of directors. Additionally, he did not consider any basic issues and did not emphasise any real civic service reform. His attacks on political corruption and the growth of the political machine were more economic than societal.

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Peck had two main concerns in his cooperative nation: the economic insecurity that had been caused through industrialisation and the depressions, and the decline of Christian ethics and morality in society. He believed that the competitive society had created insecurity, and if competition was removed everyone would be better off. With the removal of waste, inefficiency and duplication, there would be an increase in everyone’s wealth, and in a cooperative society everybody would partake in this wealth. Yet, it was a strongly hierarchical society, to the point that the working class wore particular uniforms to identify their position. Servants were regarded as part of the family, and it was a tightly controlled and paternalistic society. Peck looked for the reform of society, but that reform was from a middle class perspective. He appeared to dislike unions, farmers and large corporations, and he attacked small businesses for their competitive behaviour in attempting to deprive the honest businessman of a decent living. In fact, his analysis of the economic climate and of society was not consistent, and he showed an employer’s bias and avoided many real issues and policies that addressed inequality and deprivation. Cooperation became a policy in itself, and an explanation of the cure for the evils in society. He perceived the middle classes as being the main victims of the economic revolution of the late nineteenth century. In the ‘Preface’, Reverend Lund claimed that Peck’s Cooperative Association of America would ‘bring about a true Christian civilisation’.78 It is clear from Peck’s writing that the environment brought about a more moral and Christian society. The City Beautiful movement’s ideology of environmentalism brought about a social control that was normative and behavioural; it was a moral programme that was stimulated by beauty, utility and efficiency: these were the main principles of the Association. The architecture and the urban design of this city would bring the needed moral reform to repair society. Peck believed that the Cooperative Association of America would restore an organic relationship between principle and practice and the environmentalism that was spurred by the City Beautiful movement to forestall a demoralised and debased urban population—no revolt, only moral improvement. The City Beautiful movement was not mentioned by name; however, Peck’s use of architecture and his ideology of moral improvement had close similarities to this movement. The environment created by the urban plan and architecture of the Beaux-arts style was the key to Peck’s utopian ideals. Although the real Cooperative Association of America failed, the importance of The World a Department Store is twofold. First, while Bellamy imagined a fictional Corporation and Gillette formed the World Corporation, it failed before it had even begun. Peck not only formed the Corporation, he implemented its principles and the Corporation survived for 12 years. It represented one of the most successful corporations of cooperation of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Between 1900 and 1912 the Association was hailed as the perfect example of cooperation, and it was considered the model to be emulated.79 These corporations and the cooperative movement were central to a significant political movement of the time. Second, it highlights the importance of the city in his ideology and strongly linked utopian ideals and architecture. The utopian ideals of the Cooperative Association of America were embodied in its architecture.

78 Chas E. Lund, ‘Preface’ in The World a Department Store (Lewistown, Maine: privately printed, 1900), vii. 79 Paulson, Radicalism and Reform: The Vrooman Family and American Social Thought, 1837–1937, 170.

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Chapter 12

Conclusion

While the King ruled over the state of affairs of the country, medieval cities were corporations that were governed by incorporated societies, such as the trade and craft guilds. The King confirmed the right of a city or town to hold a market, but it was the domain of the trade and craft guilds to dispense local justice, set prices and control the quality of products. The marketplace was a central feature of each city or town in both their plan and their social life. In London, the Guildhall had been the seat of power for the city since the twelfth century; it was where the guilds formed the laws and trading regulations that created London’s wealth. However, as cities grew larger, more affluent groups of master artisans began to take a larger share of the political power and created merchants’ guilds, thereby subordinating many of the craft guilds. By the end of the fifteenth century the balance of power had shifted and the craftsmen were beginning to become employees rather than their own masters.1 It was a time of the rise of the merchant class. When Thomas More wrote Utopia in 1516 the cooperative spirit that he so praised was still clearly apparent in London, but it was in decline and the slow demise of the guilds was under way. Yet, this cooperative spirit was a fundamental principle of utopian philosophy that has been promulgated over the centuries since the publication of Utopia. However, interpretations of how this cooperative spirit could work within the community have varied a great deal. Central to a cooperative spirit was the city. The utopian cities of the Renaissance writers were radical in their structure, both politically and architecturally.2 They sought to resolve social problems through a political structure of well-designed legal and institutional adjustments, and they outlined a city that would accommodate these adjustments and attempted to create an urban plan that would enhance these reforms. Filarete and Dürer attempted to encompass their social reforms through architecture that would assist a more enlightened political reform, while Andreae and Campanella combined their religion with architecture to enhance a change in morals and politics. The cities were designed in zones that would improve working and living conditions and promote their political agenda. In Renaissance utopian thought, there was a clear shift in these cities from the cooperative spirit of the guilds to the cooperative spirit of moral theology. In Andreae and Campanella’s cities there was a moral hedonism. They perceived that the reduction of pain or sin would lead to an increase in pleasure. This was the opposite of the nineteenth-century utilitarians, who promoted the maximisation of pleasure over pain—the greater good for the greater number. The cities were divided into areas that would assist their way of life through religious and social reforms. This is best expressed in the plans of Christianopolis. The city was organised as a city-state that made it possible for the inhabitants to be protected and to express their religion and develop their desired form of society. In the beginning of the eighteenth century Britain was primarily an agrarian society with few large cities. With the demise of proto-industries through the Industrial Revolution the entire urban landscape of Britain changed radically. First, there was the formation of small industrial villages that were reliant on waterways for their power, and then with the invention and development of the steam engine came the rise of the large industrial cities. London became an enormous metropolis that epitomised the problems of the Industrial Revolution. Henry Mayhew, viewing London above from a balloon, claimed that it was: … the leviathan metropolis, with a dense canopy of smoke hanging over it, and reminding one of the fog of vapour that is often seen steaming up from the fields in the early morning. It was impossible to tell where the monster city began or ended, for the buildings stretched not only to the horizon on either side, but far away 1 Hugo Soly, ‘The Political Economy of European Craft Guilds’, in The Return of the Guilds, ed. Jan Lucassen, Tine De Moor, and Jan Luiten van Zanden (Cambridge: The Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge, 2008). 2 George M. Logan, ‘The Argument of Utopia’, in Interpreting Thomas More’s Utopia (New York: Fordham University Press, 1989), 12.

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900 into the distance, where, owing to the coming shades of the evening and the dense fumes from the million chimneys, the town seemed to blend into the sky, so there was no distinguishing earth from heaven.3

High density housing, poor sanitary conditions, poverty, urban slums and extreme pollution from factories and domestic chimneys made London, and many other large industrial cities, an extremely unhealthy place to work and to live. Gandy perceived the solution to this national crisis as a return to the agrarian society with small villages built by farmers. Architectural pattern books began to appear with inexpensive housing solutions for the farmer to supply his casual workforce with housing, which in turn would reinvigorate the proto-industries. However, the Industrial Revolution was not reversible. The first fully articulated plan for an agrarian and industrial village was Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation. Although Owen mainly relied on philanthropy to fund these villages, which did not eventuate, the plan was a realistic solution for small communities. Buckingham, whose plan for a model village owed a great debt to Owen, attempted to place his villages on a strong financial footing through forming an association in which residents would be shareholders. These utopian cities were meant to be a means of non-political reform. Owen, Buckingham and Pemberton believed that their villages would coexist with the current political institutions of the country. Although Owen believed that people would choose to live in Villages of Unity and Cooperation and that the country’s political system would change because of this choice, he believed that a new system of collectivism could be achieved in one district alone and not require the entire country to convert to a collectivist political agenda. Gillette and Peck would not have been satisfied with one district alone. Their monopoly corporations were to involve the entire country, and government would be an executive board of the corporation. Being a monopoly was an important aspect to the success of their reform: the corporation needed to control the production of all of the necessities of life. The growth of the corporations in the 1890s did produce massive monopolies, such as Standard Oil. John Rockefeller, director and major shareholder of Standard Oil, had built Standard Oil into a fast-growing enterprise by purchasing competitive firms and shutting down those that he believed to be ineffective and keeping others that were effective. Standard Oil very quickly became the largest oil company in the world. The government attempted to curtail the growth of such monopolies by introducing the Sherman Anti-Trust Act in 1890. However, Rockefeller found inventive ways of organising his company, and it continued to grow into a monopoly, while other companies could not compete. In 1909, the Justice Department sued Standard Oil under the Sherman AntiTrust Act. This was upheld by the Supreme Court in 1911, and the monopoly of Standard Oil was broken up into 34 separate companies.4 By 1911, Peck’s experiment with a cooperative system had failed, and he did not attempt to reinvigorate it. In Gillette’s third book, The People’s Corporation, published in 1924, the corporate structure of his cooperative system remained the same as it had done in 1894 and 1910. Yet even if Peck’s and Gillette’s monopoly corporations had been feasible—and in the 1890s they would have appeared to be feasible— it would not have been possible under American law and it would have required political reform to have achieved such a monopoly. Since that political reform would have undermined the government, such reform would be unlikely. They had taken their utopian ideals away from the community, such as those of Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation, Buckingham’s Victoria and Pemberton’s Happy Colony, and applied them to a nation. By the 1880s the poor health of the population, which was a result of the living conditions associated with industrialisation and urbanisation, became part of the political agenda. In Britain, of the 64,000 men that were recruited for the Army in 1884, no fewer than 30,000 were turned away because they were physically unfit, although they were in their prime of life.5 Cities were not only seen as unhealthy places; they were perceived as being morally bankrupt, and many considered that it would be impossible to reform large cities 3 Henry Mayhew and John Binny, The Criminal Presence of London and Scenes of Prison Life (London: Griffin, Bohn, and Company, 1862), 9. 4 Rudolph Peritz, Competition Policy in America: History, Rhetoric, Law (Oxford and New York: University of Oxford Press, 1996), Chapter 1. 5 Tristam Hunt, Building Jerusalem: The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City (London: Phoenix, 2005), 401.

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such as London, Manchester, Boston and New York. Plans proliferated to move people away from the city, as it was perceived that reform could only happen away from cities. For instance, William Booth, founder of the Salvation Army, brought 800 acres at Hadleigh, Essex, that were originally settled by 215 men from London who had no agricultural experience. The aim was to reverse the rural migration and send people back to the land—back to the ‘garden’. Booth’s main aim was to establish a worker’s agricultural university. However, it struggled to maintain self-sufficiency and was unable to succeed without government support.6 Employers were also moving out of the cities to establish small townships for their employees. George Cadbury moved his cocoa and chocolate business to the south side of Birmingham in 1879. He created a model village called Bournville. His plan was for a revolutionary low-density suburban development. There were large gardens with fruit trees and a swimming pool and sports grounds near the factories. Gardening and horticultural pursuits were encouraged and teaching plots were provided for instruction. Cadbury believed that the employees could achieve a measure of independence and self-sufficiency by cultivating their own vegetables, and he considered that gardening was the perfect antidote for the repetitive work of the factories. In a similar vein, soap manufacturer William Hesketh Lever planned his model village, Port Sunshine, in 1888. It began with 28 comfortable semi-detached cottages with gardens in front and behind them. Both Bournville and Port Sunshine were for employees only, and although they were very successful suburbs that were created as a garden model village for factory employees only, they were never intended to be a solution to a national problem.7 The most significant urban reform came at the end of the nineteenth century with Ebenezer Howard’s garden city.8 Howard published Tomorrow: A Peaceful Path to Real Reform in 1899 and reissued it in 1902 under the title of Garden Cities of Tomorrow. Howard looked at a third alternative to the lifestyles presented in the town or country, and he considered a town-country option. These three options—town, country and towncountry—he demonstrated in an illustration of Three Magnets, where he outlined the benefits and drawbacks of the three options or magnets (see Figure 12.1). The city and country magnets had their drawbacks: the city had high rents, poor health, slums and low wages, while the country had minimal public spirit and a lack of amusements. However, the country-town magnet had all the advantages of both, but none of the faults.9 Howard envisioned a radical decentralisation of industrial cities with a network of large self-sufficient satellite cities that would be linked by transport systems to the main garden city. These cities would be separated by large green belts. Like Owen, Buckingham and Pemberton, Howard was not trained as an architect, yet became a prominent British town planner by building on the works of Owen, Buckingham and Pemberton, and integrating their concepts of social reform into his garden cities. The overall concept is directly derived from Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation; the satellite cities are strikingly similar to Buckingham’s and Howard’s central plan that was modelled and named after the Crystal Palace. Howard, although criticised, received a great deal more support than these earlier reformers and was not as clearly branded ‘utopian’ as his predecessors. He was careful to avoid the label of ‘utopian’ or ‘visionary’ that his predecessors had suffered from. In his diagrams, which represented a symmetrical ground plan of concentric circles with grand boulevards and broad open areas and parks, he specified on each plan ‘diagram only, plan cannot be drawn until site selected’.10 Thus, although presenting an idealised plan of circuits and circles (see Figure 12.2), he left the ‘real’ plan open to interpretation and consideration of the landscape. Howard formed the Garden City Association in 1899 that led to the garden city movement. Howard’s social reform was not as rigid and hierarchical as Buckingham’s, and he pointed to the inflexibility of Buckingham’s system: ‘The members of Buckingham’s city [are] held together by the bonds of a rigid cast iron organisation, from which there could be no escape but by leaving the Association or 6 Norman H. Murdoch, Origins of the Salvation Army (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1996). 7 Gillian Darley, Villages of Vision: A Study of Strange Utopias (Nottingham: Five Leaves Publications, 2007), 138–139. 8 John Rockey, ‘From Visionary to Reality: Victorian Ideals Cities and Model Towns in the Genesis of Ebenezer Howard’s Garden City’, The Town Planning Review 54, no. 1 (1983). 9 Ebenezer Howard, Garden Cities of Tomorrow (London: Faber & Faber, 1965), 49. 10 Ebenezer Howard, Garden Cities of Tomorrow (London: Faber & Faber, 1965), 52–53.

12.1 Ebenezer Howard’s Three Magnet diagram Source: Drawn by Author from Howard 1965.

12.2 Ebenezer Howard’s diagrams of the garden city and satellite cities Source: Drawn by Author from Howard 1965.

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breaking it up into various sections.’11 Buckingham’s hierarchy and inflexible social structure did make him a ‘social crank’ at times.12 He attempted to provide a contrast in his design and social structure to that of Owen and John Minter Morgan. Morgan attempted to amend the lack of religious observation in Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation with his self-sufficient villages, but elements of a Communist society remained in his plan. Buckingham attempted to build on Morgan’s concept of a Christian Commonwealth but removed ‘the evils of communism’ and replaced it with what he saw as a communal association. However, his town planning concepts of the green belts, open spaces and satellite towns were a significant step forward in town planning that Howard clearly built on. Howard avoided many of the points of controversy and rigidness of his predecessors and presented a generic town planning concept that was labelled ‘ideal’, but which was realistic and malleable to the site at hand. The first garden city was constructed in England at Letchworth in 1903. It was to be built as Howard had outlined in Garden Cities of Tomorrow. Raymond Unwin and Barry Parker were appointed as consultant architects. They were enthusiastic believers in the garden city aesthetic and designed arts and craft style houses with the low density of 12 houses per acre (30 per hectare). However, Howard feared that decisions made by the Garden City Association would turn Letchworth into another garden suburb such as Bournville and Port Sunshine. Finances were extremely tight and many of Howard’s key elements had to be dispensed with, and in 1905 there was a cheap cottage competition held for the construction of 121 new houses; these designs moved away from Unwin and Parker’s original architectural concepts.13 However, the main principles remained; the property was held in common and the town was directed by a Board. The articles of the Association of the First Garden City Ltd claimed that the shares or stocks of the Company would only pay an accumulative dividend that did not exceed five per cent per annum. However, the full five per cent was not achieved until 1923.14 Letchworth was built when there were no town planning regulations in Great Britain and there were no professional town planners. Howard’s concept was seen as a new and innovative style of town planning. Edgar Bonham-Carter, chairman of First Garden City Ltd between 1929 and 1939, later claimed that ‘separate areas were allotted for residence, for shops, the factories, for a Civic Centre and for open spaces. The plan of zoning a town into separate areas, according to the use that they were to be put to was a new idea at the time’.15 Although Bonham-Carter was unaware of the Renaissance and Early Modern zoning theories, such theories were new to Great Britain and very appropriate for this form of urban planning and cooperative society that desired to have a degree of self-sufficiency. The surplus profit from the rents of the communal property was to be used for ‘any purpose which the Company or its directors may deem for the benefit directly or indirectly for its inhabitants.16 By 1963 there were disagreements between the community and the directors of the Company about the expenditure of the profits in the community, and this led to the formation of the Letchworth Garden City Corporation. However, under the Conservative government in the 1990s, non-departmental public bodies, such as Letchworth Garden City Corporation, were abolished. This resulted in the formation of the Letchworth Garden City Heritage Foundation. Despite the political changes in the governance of Letchworth there remain features of Howard’s original concept of the garden city. Although property is still held in common, the community is not self-sufficient, as Howard originally conceived, since there has been a decline in the small industries that the community originally depended upon. In recent years there has been more interest in Letchworth as a landmark in the history of urban planning as the first garden city, rather than its function as a cooperative society. Letchworth was not the only garden city to be built in Great Britain. Welwyn was begun in 1919 and was built on similar lines to Letchworth, although its governance has remained in the hands of Welwyn Hatfield Borough Council. The garden city movement was the prelude to new towns being created in Great Britain after the establishment of the New Towns Act of 1946. These new towns brought lower density housing 11 Howard, as quoted by John Nelson Tarn, Five Per Cent Philanthropy: An Account of Housing in Urban Areas between 1840 and 1914 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 152. 12 Tarn, Five Per Cent Philanthropy, 152. 13 Hunt, Building Jerusalem: The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City, 437–438. 14 Edgar Bonham-Carter, ‘Planning and Development of Letchworth Garden City’, The Town Planning Review 21, no. 4 (1951), 372. 15 Bonham-Carter, ‘Planning and Development of Letchworth Garden City’, 362. 16 Mervyn Miller, ‘Letchworth Garden City Eighty Years On’, Built Environment 9, no. 3/4 (1983), 174.

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throughout the country. The aim of the Act was to provide more egalitarian and healthy housing. However, this lower density killed civic life, as many of these towns did not have the amenities or the cooperative society of the garden cities.17 The garden city movement grew internationally, with garden cities being built Brazil, Argentina, America and Australia. However, many moved away from the separate zones and other features that had been central features of Howard’s original concept. For example, the Radburn community in New Jersey is the oldest planned real estate development in the United States, and has incorporated many of the principles of the garden city concept in that it had well-organised recreation programmes, pools, park lands and social programmes that fitted perfectly into the family centred lifestyle for the residents. The governing body, the Radburn Association, maintained consistency in the style of properties, but the houses were privately owned. However, the owners of the houses owned and contributed to the maintenance and running of the communal facilities. The design of the town was divided into super-blocks that were separated by main roads. The superblocks were interconnected for pedestrians by footpaths that were an expansive eight feet wide, while the service roads ran to the backs of the houses instead of the fronts. It was designed for commuters, and was a town for the motor age.18 As Radburn grew, problems with the communal properties and the governance of the Association grew. Approximately 55 people out of 3,000 residents are currently considered members of the Association, although all residents of Radburn can vote for the Board of the Association. The list of candidates is nominated by the current trustees—the 55 members—but only one position is selected through open election by the 3,000 residents. In 2004, 16 residents attempted to change the governance of the Association through legal channels. However, in 2010, after several years of dispute, the New Jersey Supreme Court declined to hear any further arguments and the lawsuit filed by the 16 residents against the Association failed.19 Radburn appears to be more of historic significance in terms of planning and architecture, like Letchworth, than an example of a cooperative society. There were also attempts by companies to build more than a garden suburb—a garden city—for their employees. Yallourn was built in 1921 in the coalfields of the Latrobe Valley by the State Electricity Commission of Victoria, Australia. Although collective ownership was considered, the Commission exclusively wanted the town to be for their current employees. The town was built for workers of the Electricity Commission and those who served the town such as teachers, police, railway workers and staff at the hospital, banks and post offices. No other person was accepted as a tenant. The plan originally catered for a population of 3,000 and was planned along the lines of Letchworth. It had a broad central avenue that linked to the railway station and town centre, where all the other roads converged. The town centre radiated to all of the residential areas, creating a sense of ‘place’ that became the civic, commercial and administrative centre of the town. It was heavily inspired by Unwin’s Town Planning in Practice, published in 1909, as well as by Howard’s planning concepts. The density of the houses was four to five houses per acre (approximately 10 per hectare), a third of the density of Letchworth. The houses were well lit, with good ventilation and every modern convenience. There was a large green belt around the town, with sports fields and a golf course. Closer to the centre of the city were swimming pools, tennis courts, croquet lawns and bowling greens. The interplay between town and country that featured in Howard’s concept of the garden city also featured in the plans of Yallourn. While it was built to a budget, Yallourn was intended to be a vision of the garden city in Australia and to be a trailblazer for the future. Although the town was run by the State Electricity Commission, there was a strong community voice through the Yallourn Civic Association, which aimed to advance social, cultural and sporting activities in the town as well as to improve its civic facilities and cooperate with the Electricity Commission on any issues that would benefit the town. The town grew to contain 1,000 houses with a population of 5,000. However, in 1961 there was a surprise announcement by the Electricity Commission. The town was to be completely demolished. The coal underneath the town had become more valuable to the Commission than the town itself. By 1984, where the trailblazing vision of a garden city of Australia once 17 Hunt, Building Jerusalem: The Rise and Fall of the Victorian City, 447. 18 Daniel Schaffer, ‘Garden Cities for America: The Radburn Experiment’ (PhD thesis, State University of New Jersey, 1981). 19 Justin Zaremba, ‘State Supreme Court Decides Not to Hear Case’, North Jersey News, 5 August, 2010, http:// www.northjersey.com, accessed 12/10/2014.

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stood was now an extensive open cut coal mine.20 There have been mixed results with these planned cities; nevertheless, there is a degree of success within all of the cities, and they all marked an improvement on the existing urban standards of the day. The cooperative stores movement of the mid-nineteenth century also had mixed success, with many of the stores having a short life and then closing. However, there were successful cooperatives that established principles of cooperatives that still have significance today. The Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers was founded in 1844 in the industrial heart of Lancaster, England, and many of early founding members were influenced by Owenite principles. The Rochdale Pioneers first established a food cooperative, and they later built on that success and began an industrial cooperative: a cotton mill. One hundred workers had contributed to the establishment of the mill and the profits were equally distributed between labour and capital. Rochdale was a close-knit community and had powerful bonds of friendship, trust and familiarity that helped to provide the foundations of a long-lasting organisation. They established the Rochdale Principles, which encapsulated the philosophy and strategy of the business organisation of the cooperative movement. At the heart of this philosophy were the basic principles of democracy and the structure of accountability of the management and leadership of the society. The rules of the society were to establish regular general meetings and elected officers and directors on the basis of one vote. The distribution of shares held by members was not allowed to interfere with the ‘one member, one vote’ principle. The mill was initially successful, and it was only when they attempted to expand and brought in outside capital that the workers were out-voted and the mill was no longer a cooperative. However, Rochdale Pioneer cooperative stores remained, and became extremely successful, continuing to expand and to function independently until 1991, when they were taken over by the Cooperative Group. The Rochdale principles provided a blueprint that other societies emulated. The principles accomplished two objectives: first, they provided for a sustainable cooperative business, and second, they also enshrined a key cooperative objective of raising the status of the working class people by providing the means of their self-elevation through education, wider wealth sharing and the opportunities to run an enterprise rather than just being an employee of these enterprises.21 The most successful application of these principles is in Mondragon, in the Basque country in Spain. The Mondragon Cooperative is the world’s largest group of worker-owned cooperatives. It consists of 110 cooperatives within the town of Mondragon, and has brought prosperity to the town and region over the last 60 years. The creation of the Mondragon system has parallels with the establishment of Andreae’s Färberstift at Calw. In 1941, a young Catholic priest, José María Arizmendiarrieta, arrived at Mondragon, which was still suffering from the Civil War and had very high unemployment. Arizmendiarrieta set up a small technical school that trained engineers and labour for small companies. In 1955, five students from this technical school and Arizmendiarrieta set up a system of cooperatives that were based on the Owenite and Rochdale Principles.22 In 2009, 25 per cent of all the businesses in Spain had failed after the global financial crisis, but less than one per cent had failed in the Mondragon Cooperative group. The cooperatives have created businesses in four key areas: finance, industry, retail and knowledge. The Mondragon Cooperative Corporation has continued to grow and develop in these four areas. The mission of the Corporation is to ‘create wealth within the society, to foster a people society instead of the capital society and to honour work with dignity’. The Corporation’s Director of Dissemination, Mikel Lezamiz, stated ‘people are the core, not capital’.23 Although Andreae’s Färberstift was small scale in comparison, it did have similar principles, and its longevity of 350 years is testament to its success. The Mondragon Cooperative’s spirit of cooperation and its success may not make it entirely safe from international financial problems, but it does indicate the possibility of such longevity. The cooperative has invested in large housing estates that are run as cooperatives, providing inexpensive accommodation. The city has grown from a small, insignificant village that surrounded the church to a prosperous city of 22,000 people. The cooperatives have found a market for their products, 20 Meredith Fletcher, Digging People up for Coal (Melbourne: The University of Melbourne Press, 2002). 21 John F. Wilson, Anthony Webster, and Rachael Vorberg-Rugh, Building Co-operation: Business History of the Co-operative Movement, 1863–2013 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 34–42. 22 Josef Davies-Coates, The Mondragon Experiment, BBC Horizon 1980. 23 Georgina Kelly, ‘The Mondragon Cooperatives: An Inspiring Economic Hybrid’, Tikkin 28, no. 2 (2013), 24.

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and the cooperative spirit and enterprise has benefited the population. Although a city was not built for this cooperative, it has turned an impoverished town into a thriving and prosperous city. The success of the Mondragon Cooperative to entirely change society through cooperation has inspired plans for a new Owenite town that was planned for Lanarkshire. The plan for Owenstown consists of 3,000 affordable houses (see Figures 12.3 and 12.4), and the community will be enlightened by the principles of Owen’s Villages of Unity and Cooperation. The housing will be prefabricated to reduce costs, which will assist in achieving affordability for young families. The site selected is 2,000 acres, and the town itself will cover 400 acres, leaving a significant green belt. Martyn Greene, coordinator of the Hometown Foundation, the charity that was set up to make Owenstown a reality, stated that the ‘Density is very different throughout the site. The town centre has a high density of apartments and town houses, this is need to keep the town centre alive’.24 Owenstown aims to be carbon-neutral and to provide energy for heating and power through renewable means. It will include offices and commercial spaces, restaurants, shops, land and buildings for industry, as well as two new primary schools and one secondary school. The aim is to create 5,000 new jobs, 3,000 of which are to be permanent, in a deprived area by promoting an enterprise culture engendered by a board of the cooperative and using the Mondragon cooperatives as a working example. Owenstown guiding principles will engender a community that encourages the cooperative spirit in a healthy, sustainable and low carbon environment that would promote community involvement and ownership and encourage economic development and job creation. Although the principles of Owenstown are based on early nineteenth century philosophies of cooperation, it is concerned with twenty-first century ideals and needs that concern the community, families and the environment.25

12.3 Bird’s eye view of the centre of the proposed village of Owenstown, Lanarkshire Source: With kind permission of the Hometown Foundation. 24 Martyn Greene, email to the author dated 13/10/14. 25 Owenstown Cooperative, Owenstown, South Lanarkshire http://owenstown.org/, accessed 14/10/2014.

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12.4 High Street of the proposed village of Owenstown, Lanarkshire Source: With kind permission of the Hometown Foundation.

However, in April 2014, the planning application for Owenstown was rejected by South Lanarkshire Council on the recommendations of the planning officials. The council stated that the main reason the plan was rejected was that ‘the development was contrary to planning policy at national, strategic, and local level’.26 Within this decision one of the grounds was that the scale of the development was not required. Michael McGlynn of the South Lanarkshire Council claimed that ‘The applicants had failed to show that there is demand for the form and scale of development proposed at this location’.27 Yet even before the decision of the council, the development had 1,500 applicants from around the United Kingdom and further afield who had registered their interest in moving to Owenstown—a significant number at such an early stage of the development. The rejection of Owenstown has parallels with Owen’s own experience. In 1820, Owen submitted a prospectus for a cooperative village that was outlined in A Report to the County of Lanark of a Plan Relieving Public Distress, and Removing Discontent, and the plan was rejected by the Commissioners of Lanark in June 1821. The Owenstown developers have the option to appeal or can consider other sites. Robert Owen took the latter option and moved his cooperative village to New Harmony, Indiana. It does appear that history is repeating itself. However, South Lanarkshire Council could not perceive the success of Mondragon or a cooperative community in southern Scotland. 26 Anonymous, ‘South Lanarkshire Owenstown New Town Plan Rejected by Councillors’, BBC News: Glasgow and South Scotland (2014) at http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-scotland-glasgow-west-26821634, accessed 15/10/2014. 27 Michael McGlynn, as quoted by Anonymous, ‘South Lanarkshire Owenstown New Town Plan Rejected by Councillors’.

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Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

The cities of the utopian authors in this book were mostly designed to a symmetrical plan and perhaps the perfect geometry added to their ideal status. However, they were an attempt to accommodate the cooperative lifestyles that the authors promoted in their philosophies. The cities were low density, with 50–70 per cent of the city being open spaces; a town centre radiated to all of the residential areas, creating a sense of ‘place’ and was the focus of the town. At the beginning of this project on utopian cities, when four cities—City of the Sun, Christianopolis, New Harmony and Victoria—had been reconstructed, a survey was compiled to consider how a modern audience would relate to the cities. The survey was completed by 148 psychology students who had no architectural training. Participants were asked to complete the survey in their own time, on their own, and in a quiet environment that did not contain any distractions. The study was entitled ‘a virtual walk around a historical city’, and it was introduced to the participants as ‘investigating people’s evaluations of a historical city’. Participants viewed one of the four cities in a slide show that consisted of between 25 and 30 colour slides of the reconstruction. The first slide was a map of the city so that the participant would be able to anticipate the path through the city. Each slide showed a sequential view of the city from the perspective of a visitor, who enters the city, walks around inside it, and then leaves. The questionnaire required the participants to answer 108 questions that were related to how they felt about all aspects of the city. The overall analysis of the survey showed that people who reported a strong sense of self-responsibility (individualism) rated the cities as more liveable because they perceived them to be richer and better resourced. In contrast, people who reported a strong commitment to their social groups (collectivism) rated the cities as having a better environmental quality because they perceived them to (a) provide a greater potential for community and social life, and (b) allow people to express themselves and be who they want to be. These results indicate that people’s evaluations of cities are, to some extent, based on the degree to which the cities are perceived to enable the expression of both individualist and collectivist values.28 The survey also revealed that the participants disliked the architecture; they found it very dull and boring, but they indicated a very positive attitude and interest in the environmental quality and liveability of the city, particularly in the safety, order and organisation, spaciousness and permeability, or spatial planning. In short, the interest was in the desirable qualities of a city that were required by the authors of the utopian literature to promote their political philosophies. The participants were interested in the environmental elements that constituted good urban design and that had been considered by these utopian authors, although not as elements of urban planning, but as elements of good community. As virtual visitors to these historic utopian cities, the participants recognised design elements of urban planning from the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries that remain relevant to modern-day communities. These four cities were created to solve distinct problems of their eras. There is also a difference in the political philosophies from these eras. Yet the cities that they desired to perpetuate their philosophies had strong similarities. They were strongly oriented to community, and were required to foster individuals that could interact with each other in a healthy, safe and secure environment; the essence of a utopian society. Although the architecture was considered boring, dated, and found wanting, the ideals of good urban planning—which were not established until the twentieth century—were embedded in their utopian plans. Although the survey was conducted on a small sample, the overwhelming positive response to these town planning elements does indicate a practical element to these designs. It is the five hundredth anniversary of the publication of Utopia in 2016. The desire for a perfect lifestyle and city is as relevant today as it was 500 years ago, and the cooperative community is still the preferred system. One of the criticisms of many of these utopian cities that have been influenced by More is that this search for the ideal has resulted in proposals for static societies. The belief is that ‘Static utopian communities are doomed to failure because of their intransigence and unwillingness to accept change as inherent to the social order’.29 In short, there should be a measure of pragmatism within a society to ensure that community’s continuity. It is the promotion of a rigid political structure within the 28 Mark Rubin and Tessa Morrison, ‘Individual Differences in Individualism and Collectivism Predict Ratings of Virtual Cities Livability and Environmental Quality’, The Journal of General Psychology 141, no. 4 (2014). 29 Ira L. Mandelker, Religion, Society, and Utopia in Ninetenth-Century America (Boston, Massachusetts: The University of Massachusetts Press, 2009), 4.

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city that has led to this belief. However, at the heart of these utopian cities is a measure of pragmatism, and their architecture is conducive to community. Their designs were to present practical solutions to the problems of society of that day. Although these problems alter from era to era, the solutions remain similar. Letchworth was intended to be a solution to the Industrial Revolution, which had caused unhealthy working and living places, poverty and slums, while Owenstown was intended to rebuild community, be environmentally sustainable and to provide a style of living that was desirable for families. Although there were differences in the style of governance in all of these cities, the cooperative principle was the main part of that governance. However, their architecture incorporated elements that would enhance the community and that are now fundamental town planning principles. Although the ‘ideal’ or ‘utopian’ towns that have been built may not be perfect, they have improved lifestyles and they have addressed the problems of their day. They may not be ‘utopian’, but they are attempting to build on the ideas of Utopia and to create an ideal lifestyle. Perhaps the concept of Utopia is fundamentally flawed. The concept of the utopian city presents a paradox: if they are perfect they are doomed to fail, but if they are not perfect they are not utopian. Despite this paradox, utopian cities remain a strong human desire and the search for Utopia continues.

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Index

References to illustrations are in bold. Abercrombie, Patrick 135 Adami, Tobias, Societas Christiana 66, 73 aesthetics, Gandy on 91 Agricultural and Industrial Revolution 83, 84 and political philosophies 85 Albert, Prince 138, 148, 153 Alberti, Leon Battista on architectural orders 12 city plan 12–13 classification of buildings 12 philosophy of beauty 63 on societies 12 works De Pictura (Della Pittura) 17, 19, 25 Decem Libri de re Aedificatoria 4, 11–12, 13 Alcuin 11 Almagest, treatise 55 Amaurot City 1 description 2 government 2 America civil unrest 155 corporate power 176 entrepreneurialism 176 immigration 175 nationalist clubs 156, 159, 165 population (1900) 175 poverty 175–176 Twentieth Century Company 165, 166 American Civil War (1861–65) 155 American Federation of Labour union 160 Amiens, Treaty of (1802) 94 Andreae, Johann Valentin 66, 193 Academic Ocean, crossing of 67–68, 72 Dyer’s Charitable Institution, founder 75 Färberstift, foundation of 75, 199 Geneva, visit to 73 influences on 72, 73 political philosophy 72–77 Rosicrucianism, criticism of 67 superintendent of Lutheran churches, Calw 75 works Christianopolis 6, 7, 8, 67–72 –– cover page 68 –– see also Christianopolis Collectaneorum mathematicorum 74, 76, 76 Treatise on the Pestilence of Curiosity 74

Aquinas, T., Re Regimine Principum 2, 4 ArchiCAD computer modelling 8 architecture Gandy on 90, 91, 98, 99, 101 Villalpando on 57 Aristarchus of Samos 55 Armstrong, Robert William 142, 151 Arndt, Johann 72 True Christianity 74 Artlaud, William 97 The Association 7 apartment buildings elevations 190 floor plan 180 architecture 187, 188–190, 191 cashless society 182 city administrative building Pl.29 aerial view Pl.28 manufacturing plants 189, 189 public square Pl.30 Co-workers Fraternity (Boston), collaboration 184–185 dissolution 188 education system 182 exhibition pavilion 190 expansion 188 governance 179, 190 ground plan 178 growth 185 hotel 190 membership 184 printing factory 190 working classes, role 181–182, 191 astral images talismans 48 theory of 48 Atlantis, ideal city xvii Augsburg artisans housing 41–42 Peace of (1555) 65 Averlino, Antonio see Filarete Bacon, Francis New Atlantis 79, 80 The Advancement of Learning 79 ‘beautility’ 186

220

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Beechey, William, ‘Portrait of Sir Francis Ford’s Children Giving Coin to a Beggar Boy’ 85 Bellamy, Edward Looking Backwards 2000–1887: 7, 156, 165, 176, 190 influence of 173, 177 sales 157 benevolent societies 125 Bensalem Island 79 Bentham, Jeremy 121 Bernard, Thomas, Sir 86, 94–95 Besold, Christoph 66 Bewick, Thomas, ‘Deserted Village’ 85 Birmingham, population 123 Black City, Chicago 157, 159 Blake, William, ‘Jerusalem’ 104 Board of Agriculture Communications to the Board of Agriculture 90, 94, 97, 100, 102 ‘On Cottages’ 95 ‘On Farm Buildings’ 95 foundation 95 Bonham-Carter, Edgar 197 Booth, William 195 Bosworth, John Misery in the Midst of Plenty 146 The Necessity of the Anti-pauper System 146 Boullée, Etienne-Louis 86 Bournville model village 195 Bracciolini, Poggio 11 Brahe, Tycho 70, 74 Bramante, Donato 18 Brighton, Royal Pavilion 133 Bruno, Giordano 48–49 denounced as heretic 49 Bryan, William Jennings 166 Buckingham, James Silk, MP anti-communism 7, 125 campaign for recreational spaces 130–131 election proposals 123 on free trade 124 National Evils and Practical Remedies with the Plan of a Model Town 6, 124–128, 132 influence 136 Owen’s influence on 125, 129 political philosophy 128–132 on Shaker communities 131 travel books 124 see also Victoria model town Burke, Edmund, Reflections on the Revolution in France 85 Cadbury, George, Bournville model village 195 Calvin, John 47 The Institutions of the Christian Religion 73 Campanella, Tommaso 193 and astrological signifiers 55, 57 astrology, belief in 53–54, 55 Catholicism, attempts to reform 53, 61, 63

Collegio Barberino, Rome, proposal 61 exile in France 61 free will, belief in 63–64 Galileo, defence of 55 heresy, imprisonment for 50, 54, 55 Hermetic magic, belief in 50, 54–55 influences on 49, 53 literary output 53 natural magic, belief in 54–55, 60, 61, 63, 66 political philosophy 53–62, 63 prayers, astrological performance of 55 works Apologia pro Galileo 55 City of the Sun (Civitas Solis) 6, 7, 8, 50, 63, 66, 151 –– see also City of the Sun Ecloga in portentosam Delphini nativitatem 61 Monarchia di Spagna 54 On the Sense of Things and Magic 61 The Philosophical Recognition of the Truth 54 Capharsalama island 68–69, 78 see also Christianopolis Cartwright, John, Maj 97 Casa della Marinarezza, Venice 41, 45 Celtis, Konrad 29 Cheilodonius, Benedictus 29 Chicago Black City 157, 159 White City 157, 159, 160, 168, 173, 187 Christian Commonwealth 130 Christianopolis 68, 193 aerial view Pl.10 artisans area 69–70, 75–76 The College 70, 73, 74, 78, 79 cooperation ethos 73 Council Hall 72 economy 75 education 70, 74, 76 elevation 77, 78 flats 77 fortifications 76 gardens 76–77, 77, Pl.12 ground plan 69 living quarters 69, Pl.11 moral control 77 mystic numbers 71 religion 77 science 79 sections 75–76 subjects taught 71 The Temple 68, 72, 77, 78, Pl.10 City Beautiful movement 185, 186, 187, 188, 191 City of the Sun arches 50–51 circuits 50, Pl.8 individual themes 51, 64 planetary alignment 55

Index dome 62 economy 64 education 51–52, 73–74 elevation 62–63 entrance Pl.7 eugenics 52 festivals 52–53 government 51 harmony 61 inventions 52 knowledge, repository of 60–61, 64 location 50 magistrates 52 manual labour 52 as microcosm of the universe 57, 63 open spaces 62 plan 50 of quarter section 62 priests, role 60, 63 religion 52, 54 ruler 51, 52, 54 technology 61 temple 51, 60, Pl.9 Clement VIII, Pope 49 Clementine Index (1596) 49 Co-workers Fraternity (Boston), The Association, collaboration 184–185 Cobbett, William 122–123 Cochläus, Johann 29 Columbian Exposition (1893) Administration Building, at night 158 Court of Honour 158, 187 visitors 159 White City 157, 159, 160, 168, 173, 187 Columbus, Christopher, voyages 4 Committee of the Metropolitan Improvements Society 132 Constable, John, ‘Flatford Mill’ 85 cooperative communities 167 movement 116–117, 199 Cooperative Association of America (fictional) see (The) Association Cooperative Group (UK) 199 cottage designs 88, 89, 91, 92, 95, 96, 97 cottage proto-industries 84, 103 craft guilds ethos 1 good works 1–2 The Crisis, periodical 117 Crockett, Edward S. 167 The Crystal Palace 137–138 as metaphor 150–151, 153 Dale, David 103, 104, 105 Darley Abbey, mill 84 worker’s housing 103

221

di Giorgio Francesco Martini 19 rules for composition of a city 28 Trattato di Architettura 28 virtue in architecture 28 Dürer, Albrecht 193 Alberti’s influence 42 architect 40 on geometry and painting 39 German style, attempt to develop 40 house 41 humanist friends 29–30 influences on 40 political philosophy 37–42 print business 45 Venice, visit to 38 vernacular, use of 39 Vitruvian proportions, approval of 39 works De Symmetria 42 Etliche Unterricht 6, 30, 31–37, 76 –– dedication 31 –– Euclidean structures 37 –– flaws 36–37 –– neglect of 45 –– purpose 31 Speiss für Malerknaben 38, 39 Underweysung der Messung 37, 39, 40, 45, 76 Vier Bücher von Menschlicher 37, 39, 45 Dürer’s fortified Utopia aerial view Pl.4 artisan zones 40, Pl.6 bastions 32, 37 buildings, key to 35 city plan 34, 34 elevations 44 fortifications, ground plan 33, 33 hermitage, elevation and sections 36 ideal location 32 More’s Utopia, possible influence of 43 palace, with ‘Royal Ditch’ 32 street with observation tower Pl.5 wells 44, Pl.6 dystopia in fiction 177 and heterotopia xiii Metropolis 173 origins of term xiii see also utopia Enclosure Consolidation Act (1801) 83, 86, 95 enclosure movement and food riots 104 and rural depopulation 83–84 Engels, Frederick 120 The Conditions of the Working Class in England in 1844: 122

222

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

England and Wales food scarcity 94–95 population 94 unemployment 107 wages, decline 94 The Enlightenment 80 Erasmus of Rotterdam 13, 29 eutopia, utopia, distinction xiii Evans, Thomas 103 factories, urban areas 84 Factory Act (1833) 127 Faventinus, M. Cetius, De Diversis Fabricis Architectonicae 11 Ferdinand I, King of Hungary and Bohemia 31 Ficino, Marsilo 47, 63 astral images, theory of 48 Filarete (Antonio Averlino) 193 architectural theory 5–6 buildings and man, similarities 14 taxonomy of 14, 16 city see Sforzinda Gothic architecture, dislike of 13, 14 Libro Architettonico 13–17, 19, 24, 27 architectural theory 17 drawings, reconstruction of 25–26 Italian dialogue 14 social theory 27 Vasari’s criticism of 17 meaning of name 19 Filelfo, Francesco 18 Florence, Republic of 5 guilds 19 Flower, Benjamin Orange 184, 187 food riots, and enclosure movement 104 France, utopian projects 86 franchise, limitations 123 free trade, Buckingham on 124 French Wars (1803–1815) 94, 106 Fugger, Gastel 42 Fugger, Jacob 41, 42 Fugger, Ulrich 42 Fuller, Henry Blake 157, 159 Gaines, Charles A. 167 Gainsborough, Thomas, ‘Cornard Wood, near Sudbury Suffolk’ 85 Galileo 70, 74 Campanella’s defence of 55 Gandy, Joseph Michael 6, 194 on aesthetics 91 architectural fantasies 87, 100–101 on architecture 90, 91, 98, 99, 101 cottage designs 91, 92 criticisms of 99, 100 materials 101–102

geometrical rationalism 98 Italy, travels in 87 political philosophy 94–95, 97–98 Royal Academy, exhibitor 87 Village of the Winds 91, 93, 93, 98, 99, Pl.13–15 elevation 100–101 rotunda shape 98 Vitruvius’, influence 98 works The Art, Philosophy and Science of Architecture 101 Comparative Architecture project 101 Designs for Cottages 88, 94, 98, 100 –– Preface 91 ‘On the Philosophy of Architecture’ 98, 101 Rural Architecture 88, 94, 98, 100 garden cities 195–198 Garden City Association 195 Geneva Academy of 73 Calvinist 73 George, Henry ‘Moses’ lecture 183 Progress and Poverty 183 Giles, P. 1 Gillette, King Camp cooperative movement, criticism of 160–161 political philosophy 164–171 safety razor, invention 166 The United Company 159–160, 161 works The Ballot Box 166 The Human Drift 7, 159–164, 164–165, 173 –– diagram 161 –– Gronlund’s criticism of 165 –– influences on 173 The People’s Corporation 168–169, 169, 170, 171, 173, 194 The World Corporation 167, 169, 173 see also Metropolis city; World Corporation Godwin, William, An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice 85, 114 Goldsmith, Oliver, The Deserted Village 84, 152 Grand National Consolidated Trades Union 117 Great Exhibition (1851) 137 catalogue 138 Mayhew on 149, 150 ‘shilling people’ 137, 138, 149 visitors 137, 149 Greene, Martyn 200 Gregorian calendar 65 Gregory XIII, Pope 65 Gronlund, Laurence criticism of The Human Drift 165 The Cooperative Commonwealth in its Outlines 155–156

Index guilds London 193 merchant 193 Sforzinda 18–19, 24 Venice 19 see also craft guilds Hanseatic League 5 Hanson, Joseph 117 The Happy Colony circularity 142–143, 144, 151 cities 142, 144 elevations 152 governance 146 ground plan 145 Infants’ Temple Pl.23 mixed economy 146 Natural University Pl.22, Pl.24 New Zealand 141 perspective drawing 142 size 141 see also Queen Victoria Town health problems and industrial towns 121, 194 and recreation spaces 121 Hermetic philosophy 47 and City of the Sun 50 varieties of 48 Hess, Tobias 66, 67, 73 heterotopia, and dystopia xiii Hogarth, William, satirical paintings 123 Holbein, Hans 2 Holland, Henry 97 Holy Roman Empire 29 religious strife 65 Homagius, Philipp 67 Hone, William 114 Hope, Thomas 87 housing surveys 121–122 Howard, Ebenezer garden city and satellite cities, diagrams 196 Three Magnet diagram 195, 196 works Garden Cities of Tomorrow 195, 197 Tomorrow: A Peaceful Path to Real Reform 195 Humanism 11 Hunt, Henry 122 Hunter, Robert 175–176 Hythloday, Raphael (fictional character) 1, 4, 5, 83 industrial towns, and health problems 121, 194, 203 Institute for the Formation of Character 113–114 Kaufmann, Emil 99 Kent, Nathaniel, Hints to Gentlemen of the Landed Property 97 Kepler, Johann 70

223

Knights of Labour union 160 Kratzer, Niklas 29, 39 Labour Kingdom 141, 146, 150 Laing, Samuel 137–138 Le Corbusier 173 on mass production houses 170 Radiant City 171 Ledoux, Claude-Nicolas L’Architecture considerée 86–87, 99, 151 Pemberton, influence on 151 utopian town, Chaux 21, 86 Leeds, population 123 Leonardo da Vinci 18 Letchworth Garden City 197, 203 Heritage Foundation 197 Lever, William Hesketh, Port Sunshine model village 195 Lloyd, Henry Demarest 188 Lloyd Wright, Frank 100 Locke, John 98 London, Mayhew on 193–4 London Cooperative Society 116 Louis XIII, King of France 61 Louis XV, King of France 86 Love, William T., Model City 162 Ludditism 104 Lukacher, Brian 97, 100 Luther, Martin 30, 47, 72, 73 Machiavelli, Niccolò 13 The Art of War 36 The Prince 54 Maestlin, Michael 70 Malthus, Thomas An Essay on the Principles of Population 115 criticism of Villages of Unity and Cooperation 115 Malton, James 90 An Essay on British Cottage Architecture 88 Mammon, Kingdom of 140, 142, 147, 150 Manchester population 122 population growth 112 Martindale, John 87 Maximilian I, Holy Roman Emperor 29 Mayhew, Henry 137 on the Great Exhibition 149, 150 on London 193–194 works 1851 (novel) 138–139, 148–149 London Labour and the London Poor 138, 148 Mechanics Institutes 139, 152–153 Medici, Cosimo de’, Duke of Florence 27 Metropolis city 7, 173 abandoment of 169 aerial view Pl.25 apartment buildings 162, 172, Pl.26 interior, Pl.27

224

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Metropolis city (continued) architecture 171–173 building materials 162 building types, ground plan 163–164, 164 criticism of 169 gardens 171 infrastructure 163 location map 163 Niagara Falls, power source 162 population 168 Metropolis (Lang) dystopia 173 reconstruction 174 mills, employment in 103–104 mini-ice age, Europe 50 and apocalypticism 65 Model Town Association see Victoria model town Mondragon Cooperative Corporation, Spain 199–200 Moravian villages 125 More, Thomas xvii, 113 Utopia 1, 27, 64, 72, 80, 193 Basel edition (1517) 5, 29 cover page 3 markets 2 Paris edition (1517) 5 Plato, influence of 5 scholarship on 5 success 5 Morgan, John Minter principles for improvement of society 129 self-supporting villages, proposal 130 ‘The Church of England Agricultural Self-supporting Institute’, prospectus 129–130 works Letter to the Bishop of London 129 Remarks on the Practicability of Mr Robert Owen’s Plan 129 The Christian Commonwealth 130, 146 The Triumph or the Coming Age of Christianity 131, 147 To the Bishops and Clergy of All Denominations 146 Morris, Robert, Rural Architecture 88 The Nationalist, magazine 156, 157 Nationalist Clubs, America 156, 159, 165 Nationalist Party, Boston, Declaration of Principles 156–157 natural magic, Campanella 54–55, 60, 61, 63, 66 Neoplatonists 53 New Harmony community, America 111, 116, 131–132, 201 New Lanark Mills 6, 103 community stores 105 housing 105 school 105 visitors 106 see also Villages of Unity and Cooperation

New Towns Act (1946) 197–198 Niagara Falls as infinite power source 162 utopian city plans 162 Nuremberg 29 adoption of Lutheranism 30 artisans, status 38 domestic architecture 41 guilds, absence of 38 sworn crafts, organisation of 38–39 Olmsted, Frederick Law 185–186 Ottley, William 97 Owen, Robert 6 and character formation 105 influence 120 influence on Buckingham 125, 129 manager, New Lanark Mills 104–105, 114 New Harmony community, America 111, 116, 131–132, 201 Peck, comparison 188 on Pemberton 148 political philosophy 112–117, 119–120 socialism 111 work measurement 105 works Description of an Architectural Model 111, 111 Essays in the Foundation of the Character 105 A Further Development of the Plan for the Relief of the the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor 110 The New Moral World 117, 120 A New View of Society 105, 112, 113, 114, 147 Report to the Committee of the Association for the Relief of the Manufacturing and Labouring Poor 106, 121 Report to the County of Lanark 201 Statement Concerning the New Lanark Establishment 105 see also New Lanark Mills; Villages of Unity and Cooperation Owenstown village, Lanarkshire bird’s eye view of centre 200 carbon-neutrality 200 high street 201 job creation 200 rejection of planning application 201 Paine, Thomas, Rights of Man 85 Parker, Barry 197 Parker, John 123 parks, recreation role 121, 185, 186 parliamentary system (UK), reforms 123 Paxton, Joseph 137 Peasants’ Revolt (1525) 31, 45 Peck, Bradford cooperative movement, support for 183

Index department store, Lewiston, Maine 177, 182, 188 Owen, comparison 188 political philosophy 182–188 The World a Department Store 177–182 influences on 7, 183 significance of 191 see also (The) Association Pemberton, Robert anti-books rhetoric 140 on education 140–141, 150 political philosophy 147–151 on population 146 works An Address to the Bishops and Clergy 148 An Address to the People 150, 151, 153 The Attributes of the Soul from the Cradle 147 The Happy Colony 7, 139–147, 148, 150 –– costings, lack of 146 –– Ledoux’s influence 151 –– Morgan’s influence 146 –– Rousseau’s influence 141 see also Happy Colony; Queen Victoria Town People’s Shilling Company 150, 152 Pestalozzi, Johann Heinrich, Enquiries into the Course of Nature of the Human Race 147 Peterloo Massacre (1819) 122 Peutinger, Konrad 29 Philip II, King of Spain 57, 64 Philolaus 55 Pico della Mirandola 47 Adversus Astrologiam 48 Piero della Francesca 19 Pietism 74 Piranesi, Giovanni Battista 87, 101 Pirckheimer, Willibald 29, 38, 39 Plato, ideal city of Atlantis xvii Platonism 47 Plusiapolis 20 Sforzinda, comparison 17 Port Sunshine model village 195 Queen Victoria Town 142 education 143 Infant Temple 143 interactive models 143 Natural University 143 Queenwood Farm community 117 Radburn community, New Jersey, governance 198 Radiant City, Le Corbusier 171 recreation spaces and health problems 121 see also parks Reformation, and Counter-Reformation 47 Regents Park 121 Reynolds, Joshua 85 Rhenanus, Beatus 29

225

Richelieu, Cardinal 61 Ridolfi, Niccolo 61 Roberts, Henry, The Dwelling of the Labouring Classes 138 Rochdale Pioneers 199 Rochdale Principles 199 Roebuck, John Arthur 121, 129, 185 Roosevelt, Theodore 167 Rose Cross, Fraternity of 66 Rosencreutz, Christian 66, 67 Rosicrucian Order, esoteric knowledge 66 works Confessio Fraternitatis 66, 71 Fama Fraternitatis Rosae Crucis 66 Rosicrucianism Andreae’s criticism of 67 writings inspired by 67 Royal Society of London 79 Rudolf II, Holy Roman Emperor 65 rural depopulation artistic representation 85 and enclosure movement 83–84 Ruskin, John 138 Rustici, Cencio 11 Salt, Titus 136 Saltaire town 136 Scientific Revolution (17c) 79, 80 Scott, William Bell 40 Serlio, Sebastiano military city 45 principle of decorum 44–45 Severy, Mervyn Linwood Gillette’s Industrial Solution: World Corporation 166–167 Gillette’s Social Redemption 166 Sforza, Francesco, Duke of Milan 6, 13, 17 Milan, modernisation of 24 Sforza, Galeazzo Maria 16 Sforzinda 6 artisans’ role 24 astrological considerations 16 Bishop’s Palace 18 canal system 14 Cathedral, depictions of 25 circus 21 class structure 24 columns 16 functions 18 compounds 20–21, 26 Ducal Palace 18 foundation ceremonies 16, 18 guilds 18–19, 24 hospital 26 House of the Architect, purpose 23 House of Virtue and Vice 20, 21, 21, 22, 22, 25

226

Unbuilt Utopian Cities 1460 to 1900

Sforzinda (continued) influence of 18 Palace of the Commune 14, Pl.3 elevation 26 Piazza of the Markets 14, 15, 20, 24, 27, Pl.2 Piazza of the Merchants 14, 15, 18–19, 20, 24, 27, Pl.1 palace 26 plan 14, 15, 20, 26 Plusiapolis, comparison 17 school for boys 20 daily routine 20 guilds, presence of 20 subjects taught 20 trade workshops 20 Temple of Virtue 21, 21, 22–23 as text 21, 28 trades, celebration of 23 tyrant’s power, concentration of 27 Shaker communities, Buckingham on 131 Sheldon, Charles, In His Steps 183–184 Sherman Anti-Trust Act (1890) 194 Sinclair, John 95 Sinclair, Upton, The Book of Life 168 Smith, Adam 107 laissez faire theory 85, 107, 124, 129 Wealth of Nations 85, 86, 128 Soane, John 87 social Darwinism 166, 176 societies, Alberti on 12 Society for the Bettering the Conditions and Increasing the Comforts of the Poor 86 Reports 91, 94, 97, 102 Society for the Improvement of the Condition of the Labouring Classes 138 Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge 86 Speckle, Daniel 76 Spence, Thomas, Restorer of Society to its Natural State 85, 115 Standard Oil Company 167, 176, 194 Stedman Whitwell, Thomas 106, 111, 129 Southville design 117–118 The Description of an Architectural Model 117, 118 Stoicism 47 Summerson, John 99 Swiss Republic 5 Taylorism 169–170 Telesio, Bernardino influence on Campanella 53 On the Nature of Things 49 Tesla, Nikola 162 Thirty Years War 75, 78 Thompson, William, Practical Directions for the Speedy ad Economical Establishmet of Communities 129 Trismegistus, Hermes, Corpus Hermeticum 47

Turner, Joseph William, ‘Cottage, Beggar ad Hollyhocks’ 85 Twain, Mark & Warner, Charles Dudley, The Gilded Age: A Tale of Today 182 Twentieth Century, magazine 165, 166 Twentieth Century Company, America 165, 166 The Uffizzi 27 unemployment, England and Wales 107 Union for the Promotion of Human Happiness 121 Unwin, Raymond 197 Town Planning in Practice 198 Urban VIII, Pope 55, 61 Utilitarianism 121, 193 utopia etymology 4 eutopia, distinction xiii negative connotations xvii purpose 8 see also dystopia utopian cities xvii, 1, 193 continuing relevance 7, 202–203 features 202 survey 202 see also Christianopolis; City of the Sun; Metropolis city; Sforzinda city; White City utopian fiction 7–8, 176–177 Vasari, Giorgio, criticism of Filarete’s Libro Archittetonico 17 Venice besieged by Turks 31 Casa della Marinarezza 41, 45 guilds 19 layout 40–41 social housing 41 zoning 41 Venice, Republic of 5 Vespucci, Amerigo, Quatuor Americi Vesputi Navigationes 4 Victoria and Albert Museum 149 Victoria model town 6–7 architecture 132–136 central square Pl.20 cost of project 128 dwellings 127 elevation view 134–135 government 128 ground plan 126–127, 126 buildings 134 and happiness 128 minimum wages 128 non-realisation 132 perspective 132, 133 picturesque features 133 proposal 125 public health 127

Index shareholders 126, 128 social hierarchy 128 universities/museum buildings Pl.21 walkways Pl.19 working conditions 127 Village of the Winds see under Gandy, Joseph Michael villages, picturesque 132–133 Villages of Unity and Cooperation 106, 108, 120, 125, 129, 194 advantages 109 architecture 117–118 central conservatory 118, Pl.17 community 108–109 cost 109 education 109, 112–113 elevations 119 exterior view 118, Pl.16 ground plan 110, 110 illustration 108 internal buildings Pl.18 lack of support for 116 Malthus’ criticism of 115 rail system Pl.16 Stedman Whitwell’s design 111 see also New Lanark Mills; Owenstown Villalpando, Juan Bautista 63, 64 on architecture 57 In Ezechielem Explanations et Apparatus Vrbis Temple Hierosolymitani 57 Tabernacle of Moses surrounded by Israelites’ camp 58 with tents of tribes of Israel 56 Temple of Solomon, ground plan 59

virtue (virtù) 19–20 in architecture, di Giorgio’s 28 in Sforzinda 20 Vitruvius, Marcus Pollio Canon of Proportions 30 De Architectura 98 manuscripts 11 ‘rediscovery’ 11 ideal city, Fra Giocondo’s interpretation 43, 43 Vrooman, Carl 167 Vrooman, Hiram, Revd 167, 177, 184 Vrooman, Walter 167 Wallis, George Augustus 87, 97 Wechel, Christian 40 Welwyn Garden City 197 Wheatley, Francis, The Industrious Cottager 88 White City, Chicago 157, 159, 160, 168, 173, 187 Wilberforce, William 86, 113 Wilkinson, Harry C. 188 witchcraft trials 66 Wood, John A Series of Plans for Cottages or Habitations for the Labourer 88 labourer’s cottages, designs 88, 89, 91 principles for building cottages 97 workhouses 86 World Corporation 167–168 Wren, Christopher, Sir 135 Wyatt, James 87 Yallourn garden city, Victoria, Australia 198–199

227

Plate 1 Looking across the Merchant’s Piazza, Sforzinda, with the Cathedral on the Left

Plate 2 The Church of the Market Piazza, Sforzinda, with the main aqueduct to the city and the ducal Palace in the background

Plate 3 The Palace of the Commune in the centre of the Merchant’s Piazza, Sforzinda

Plate 4 Aerial view of Dürer’s fortified city

Plate 5 Street in front of the Royal Ditch with the observation tower in the background

Plate 6 Street of artisans’ workshops and their domestic quarters

Plate 7 Entrance to the City of the Sun

Plate 8 Inside the first circuit of the City of the Sun

Plate 9â&#x20AC;&#x192; Inside the Temple of the City of the Sun with the altar and terrestrial and celestial globes, and the seven lamps hanging from above

Plate 10â&#x20AC;&#x192; Aerial view of Christianopolis

Plate 11â&#x20AC;&#x192; The domestic quarter of Christianopolis with walkways and overhead bridges

Plate 12â&#x20AC;&#x192; The gardens between the domestic quarters and the College of Christianopolis

Plate 13 Inside Gandy’s Village of the Winds

Plate 14 The centralised church in the Village of the Winds

Plate 15â&#x20AC;&#x192; One of the cottages of the Village of the Winds

Plate 16â&#x20AC;&#x192; Exterior view including the rail tunnel that is an underground transport system and connects the Village of Unity and Cooperation with other parts of the country

Plate 17â&#x20AC;&#x192; The central conservatory of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation

Plate 18â&#x20AC;&#x192; One of the four main internal buildings of the Villages of Unity and Cooperation that contains the social and administrative activities

Plate 19â&#x20AC;&#x192; The walkways from the sixth row of Victoria looking to the centre

Plate 20â&#x20AC;&#x192; The central square of Victoria showing the octagonal tower and the government buildings

Plate 21â&#x20AC;&#x192; One of the universities and museum buildings of Victoria and in the background the mansions from row seven

Plate 22â&#x20AC;&#x192; View of the centre of the city, the Natural University of the Happy Colony

Plate 23 The centre of the city and the Infants’ Temple

Plate 24 The colleges of the Natural University

Plate 25â&#x20AC;&#x192; Aerial view over Metropolis

Plate 26â&#x20AC;&#x192; The apartment buildings of Metropolis

Plate 27 The interior of the apartment buildings of Metropolis

Plate 28 Aerial view of the centre of the Association’s cooperative city

Plate 29 The administrative building of Association’s cooperative city

Plate 30 Public square in the Association’s cooperative city. On the left of the square is one of the public restaurant and on the right of the square is the printing plant for the cooperative newspaper