The American Architect
Vol. CXV
Wednesday, June 18, 1919
Number 2269
The Villa Borghese
By Joy Wheeler Dow
Illustrated by Photographs by the Author.
A GRACE of winter breathing like the Spring:
Solitude, Silence, the thin whispering
Of water in the fountains, all that day Talk with the leaves; the winds, gentle as they, Rustle the silken garments of their speech Rarely, for they keep silence, each by each,
The dim green silence of the dreaming trees, Cyprus and pine and the cloaked ilexes,
That winter never chills; and all these keep A sweet and grave and unawakening sleep, Reticent of its dreams, but hearing all
The babble of the fountains as they fall,
Chattering bright and irresponsible words As in a baby-speech of liquid birds.
—Arthur Symons in Harper’s Magazine.
Mr. Symons’ poetry correctly visualizes the attitude of mind in which good society expects you to approach the awe-inspiring subject of the Roman
villas of the Renaissance, of which the Villa Borghese is a noted example. I pray you not to sigh, not to weep for my iconoclastic spirit when I say: “Now I will tell you about the Villa Borghese labeled as pieces of broken china on the bargain counters of department stores are labeled—‘as is.’ ”
First, let us see if we know what a Roman villa of the Italian Renaissance was, what it represented, and for what it stood. It was not a palace. It was not a place of residence. It was not a dwelling— it was not a home. It was not a park for the people, nor a museum, nor an advertising medium of building materials, nor a public place of amusement for the encouragement of art, music or the drama. Indeed, we have nothing amid all our
WEST FACADE OF CASINO. FROM DESIGNS OF VASANZIO
Copyright, 1919, The Architectural & Building Press (Inc.)
Vol. CXV
Wednesday, June 18, 1919
Number 2269
The Villa Borghese
By Joy Wheeler Dow
Illustrated by Photographs by the Author.
A GRACE of winter breathing like the Spring:
Solitude, Silence, the thin whispering
Of water in the fountains, all that day Talk with the leaves; the winds, gentle as they, Rustle the silken garments of their speech Rarely, for they keep silence, each by each,
The dim green silence of the dreaming trees, Cyprus and pine and the cloaked ilexes,
That winter never chills; and all these keep A sweet and grave and unawakening sleep, Reticent of its dreams, but hearing all
The babble of the fountains as they fall,
Chattering bright and irresponsible words As in a baby-speech of liquid birds.
—Arthur Symons in Harper’s Magazine.
Mr. Symons’ poetry correctly visualizes the attitude of mind in which good society expects you to approach the awe-inspiring subject of the Roman
villas of the Renaissance, of which the Villa Borghese is a noted example. I pray you not to sigh, not to weep for my iconoclastic spirit when I say: “Now I will tell you about the Villa Borghese labeled as pieces of broken china on the bargain counters of department stores are labeled—‘as is.’ ”
First, let us see if we know what a Roman villa of the Italian Renaissance was, what it represented, and for what it stood. It was not a palace. It was not a place of residence. It was not a dwelling— it was not a home. It was not a park for the people, nor a museum, nor an advertising medium of building materials, nor a public place of amusement for the encouragement of art, music or the drama. Indeed, we have nothing amid all our
WEST FACADE OF CASINO. FROM DESIGNS OF VASANZIO
Copyright, 1919, The Architectural & Building Press (Inc.)