A Review of Recent Changes, and Changes
which have been Projected, in the Plans
of the Central Park:

A Consideration of Motives, Requirements and Restrictions
Applicable to the General Scheme of the Park.

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In 1870, the preparation of the Central Park had been fourteen years in progress under the Commission of which you were then President.

A few objects had been accepted as practicable to be associated with the main scheme, suitable provisions for which remained to be established, but the primary construction of the Park in its essential elements, except at the outskirts where joint action with other departments of the city had been required, was complete, and the public enjoyed such use of it as can be had of any park the plantations of which are but just planted, their finer details incomplete, and all parts yet raw and blotchy.

Nearly six million dollars had been expended to bring the undertaking to this point, when the Commission was superseded by the Department under the charter of 1870.

Eighteen months later, another change having occurred restoring [240] you to the head of the administration, it is found that while, in the meantime, little or nothing has been done on the unimproved outskirt ground, numerous alleged defects have been discerned in the plans formerly pursued, remedies for these devised, and to some slight extent carried out, and that the Park stands charged with an additional expenditure of two and a quarter millions of dollars.

At the time the old plans were reviewed and their revision resolved upon, we retained the position which we had held from the beginning of the work, as the professional advisers of the Board in respect to matters of design.

Referring to these facts, you have been kind enough to suggest that an explanation is due from us of the changes which have been thought necessary, more especially as the Annual Report of the Department, while presenting sub-reports from eight junior officers, contains nothing, as you observe, from us and refers in no way to our service.

Thanking you for the opportunity, we shall, as briefly as possible, relieve ourselves from responsibility in respect to the change of plans, and afterwards discuss the occasion and character of this change.

Soon after our re-appointment, in May, 1870, we made a concise written report on the purposes and design of the various structures in progress on the Park, and took several occasions to show our wish to explain these more fully to the new Commissioners. When subsequently we were casually informed of newly conceived projects, we sought opportunity to point out the relations which they would have, and which were liable to be overlooked, to parts of the design already executed, but no reply was made to our requests for appointments for this purpose. As late as November we had not been officially advised of any dissatisfaction with the plans, nor had we been asked to explain those elements of our design which appear from the Report to have been regarded as inscrutable.

On the 25th of November, having then learned, though not officially, that radical changes had been determined on, we addressed a letter to the President of the Department, of which a copy is appended.

The receipt of this was formally acknowledged, but no action taken on the request conveyed, and on the 1st of December, the Department having openly disregarded the terms of its engagement with us, our duties to it were concluded.

The Annual Report of the Department (of the sub-reports attached to which we had no knowledge until you recently placed the printed copy in our hands) embodies a studied inculpation of previous administrations of the Park, the more emphatic charge being that of gross inconsiderateness of the reasonable requirements of the public in the designs of different parts of [241] the work; the specifications of this charge being incorporated in the explanation of various local changes undertaken by the late administration.

The imputations thus made upon the plan of the Park are of a class with criticisms which have been constant since the inception of the work; criticisms heretofore more commonly expressed, however, in the form of suggestions and inquiries, and thus with an acknowledgment of incomplete study. As the ground, officially stated, of changes by which not only much previous work is sentenced to be undone, but in which a further expenditure of some millions of dollars is involved, they now demand examination.

By a similar method of criticism, changes equally costly may be demanded and apologized for under every successive administration of the Park.

Its characteristic defect being that it takes no account of the larger number of motives which have influenced the design of the features assumed to be under review, a reply in detail, in which all such overlooked considerations should be set forth, would require a volume much larger than the Report itself. Before attempting a comprehensive reduction of this duty by the development of a general theory of design applicable to the Park, it may be desired, however, that we should fully exhibit this alleged defect.

An example, which will enable us to do so within moderate limits, is offered in a small group of associated objects, in which the motives of design, requiring consideration, are unusually local and limited. First presenting these, we shall then quote the criticism of the Report, and lastly refer to the changes, in this case slight, which have been made with a view of improvement.

Children will come to the Park in large numbers while yet too young to have the tastes and habits with regard to which its arrangements are generally designed, and localities in which they can be more particularly cared for are thus desirable. Ball-grounds have been prepared, in and about which boys have special privileges and special guardianship. Girls and boys, too small to use these, like to flock together also, and it is both better for them and more convenient for their elders that they should be encouraged and facilitated in doing so.

This was one of the considerations to which we have referred; another was suggested by the frightful increase of mortality among very young children which annually occurs in this city about midsummer; the number of deaths of infants, notwithstanding so many are taken out of town, often being double as many in a day about the middle of July as in any day of several previous months. The causes act in part directly upon the children, but largely, also indirectly, by inducing nervous irritation with nursing mothers.

A visit to the country offers the surest means of escaping the danger, and, in incipient stages, the best means of cure of the special disorders in which the danger lies. To most mothers, however, this is impracticable, and [242]

the best that can be done is to spend an occasional day or pact of a day on the Park. It has been for some years a growing practice with physicians to advise this course.

The whole Park is, of course, open as much to mothers with children as to any other class; but on a hot day a mother carrying a sick child, and perhaps leading other children, if she follows the throng, is liable to become more heated and feverish through fatigue, anxiety and various slight embarrassments, than if she remained quietly within a close, dark chamber. If she comes with a party of friends, she will be glad to find some quiet nook in which, while others wander, she can be left with her baby. The class of considerations thus suggested had influenced the treatment of several localities, but had been controlling in a larger way than elsewhere at the point in question.

There were here two masses of rock around both of which the main drive passed as a loop. On the borders and in the clefts of these rocks, the ground being impracticable for cultivation, loose thickets of sassafras, dog-woods, sumachs, bitter-sweet, and their common rock-edge associates, had sprung up, so that just here, in the midst of the general bleakness, barrenness and filth of this quarter of the Park site, there was a pretty bit of natural scenery, having a somewhat wild and secluded character. It was designed to follow up the natural suggestions of this class, and by thickening and extending the original sylvan defences, secure a more decided effect of rural retirement.

[243]

The advantages for this purpose supplied one ground for the selection of the spot, the proximity of the play-grounds for larger children, another; and that of one of the sunken roads of the Park another; but the main reason for it was the fact that it was the precise point in the Park which could be reached with the fewest steps on an average, by visitors coming from the denser parts of the city by seven different lines of railway, and after the Park should be entered, wholly along walks by which the crossing of any carriage road would be avoided. From the Eighth Avenue and the “Belt” lines, access to it could be had by the Park carriages in five minutes; it was ten minutes’ walk from the Sixth and Seventh Avenue and Broadway lines, and was approached by six walks, each fourteen feet wide, laid out from as many entrances to the Park, with no more indirectness than was necessary to avoid with easy curves considerable rocky elevations.

The most noticeable feature of the special local arrangements consisted of a series of seats and tables shaded by trellised vines, so placed as to

[244] cover with verdure the larger part of a broad, fiat, uninteresting mass of rock, which otherwise would have been a bleak and sterile blot in the view at a point almost of introduction to the more luxuriant landscape in the design of the lower park. A few arrangements for amusing and taking care of children were placed within easy reach, and also a building which had been designated the Dairy, because it was intended to make sure that with a few other simple refreshments for children, perfectly fresh pure milk should be sold in it at a moderate charge. Its lower story, containing a store-room, ice-room and other offices, not interesting to the public, and accordingly completely concealed from its view, opened upon the sunken road by which its supplies could be received and its waste removed in carts without annoyance to visitors. The upper part, consisting of a sales-room, with a counter for refreshments and the loan or sale of playthings, and a broad gallery, was constructed for coolness and was open to the South breeze which it was found, even when calm elsewhere, would be drawn towards it from the South Pond. A bay of this water, with a bold dark shore opposite, rising to an eminence crowned with firs, was looked down upon, over a narrow glade of turf which, between the rocks and coppices, formed the foreground of a little local landscape promising some day to be quite interesting. Upon the bit of green-sward in front, it had been intended that a cow or two, an ewe with lambs, and a few broods of chickens, should be kept for the amusement of children, and a small stable had been built for them hard by, which also served to mask a dressing-room and water-closet.

It was considered that the same conditions which promised advantages for mothers, especially at midsummer, would be also grateful to convalescents, invalids, and aged persons who should desire to be as much as possible with comfort out of doors, especially in the early spring and late autumn; the Dairy being sheltered on the north, northwest and northeast, by elevations planted with evergreens, and giving upon a warm, dry southern slope, and a walk connecting with it, a quarter of a mile in length, having similar advantages of shelter and geniality.

Although more particularly designed for the benefit of the classes indicated, no attempt to exclude other visitors would have been practicable, nor was any intended. It was simply not desired, by making any of the group of structures unnecessarily prominent, to seem to recommend passersby, who would be likely to enjoy other points of the Park more, to turn off their course and tarry here. A special invitation for people to leave their carriages to obtain meals at the Dairy, was, perhaps, more especially designed to be avoided, as the parts of the roadway nearest it were among the most unsuitable on the Park for the stoppage and collection of carriages; and two minutes’ drive beyond, a place had been specially prepared where a number might stand together without interrupting the regular movement upon the drive, and visitors in them could be served, if they chose, without alighting It was thought, however, that people coming to the Park in carriages would frequently [245]

[246] find it convenient to leave nurses and children for a short time, as they passed near the Dairy, and there were three convenient routes of access to it from the drive — the distance by the most direct, being less than a hundred paces, by none a hundred and twenty. It had been intended that all the local arrangements should be ready for use before midsummer, and when the new administration took charge in May, the Dairy was well advanced.

Although no inquiry was made of us in regard to this structure, and we did not suspect that any other view of it was taken than that which has been above explained, we twice referred, in written communications to the Department, to the fact that it had been designed as an attachment to the “Children’s District,” (the various other constructed features of which were once fully enumerated and their relations to it indicated), at the same time urging its immediate completion. The result is shown in the following paragraph of the Annual Report, no other reference to any of the whole group of arrangements being found in the volume:

“The remaining structure in progress was the Dairy House adjacent to the transverse road at Sixty-fifth street, in a very inappropriate location. It is hidden from direct view; is difficult of access; and no direct path leads to it from the main drive; so that the criticism is often popularly made that a Dairy building, intended for general use of persons frequenting the Park, has been placed, as much as possible, out of sight and reach. Of course, it was necessary to complete it according to the original plans, because it had progressed too far for alteration. It has been finished in accordance with the plans of those who conceived it. It may not, however, be uninteresting to know that this inconsiderable building has cost about fifty thousand dollars — nearly all of it expended before this department took office.”

In accordance with the theory of design thus indicated, the Dairy has been used as a common eating-house, no stipulations having been made with the tenant other than apply to the general restaurant at Mount St. Vincent; the stable has been turned into a paint-shop; the coppices thinned and trimmed up, and, with the rocks, put partially out of sight, and wholly out of countenance by rows of prim garden-shrubs. By making gaps in the established plantations, straightening two slight curves of the walks, and planting a granite stepping-stone, twenty feet long, on the edge of the drive, it has been opened to view, and the distance to it therefrom shortened six paces.

These changes, as we have said, are comparatively slight. Looking at the building as the authors of the Report had chosen to do, simply as a roadside inn, standing detached from the road, but in their eyes more detached from all else on the Park, if changes were to be made, it is only to be wished that they could have been more efficacious. But slight, or rather feeble, as they are, interpreted by the significant brevity of their explanation, if the building had been leveled, and all the ground around had been plowed and salted, a willing ignorance of the real elements of value in all the work of the neighborhood, and a blind disdain of the study which had been given to the [247] harmonious and equitable adjustment of its several motives could not have been more distinctly manifested.

It will appear probable that those who had taken the responsibility of administering the public trust of this property regarded the building as an item by itself; that they neither knew nor cared for its relations with any other elements of the Park; that they chose, however feebly, to force it into a relation with the drive, for which, by their own declaration, it was not adapted; that the tendency of their policy was to lessen, if not wholly cancel, its value with reference to its characteristic original purposes; and that, when their Report was prepared, they saw no reason to suppose that the public did not, with one voice, consent to and applaud such a method of dealing with their trust.

The construction of the Park has been watched by a large number of intelligent citizens, and more closely than any other public work of the city; it has unquestionably excited more general interest, and been more popular, than any other, and yet it is true that but little weight is commonly given to many important motives of its design, either in commendations which are heard of it, or in propositions for its amendment.

It is not difficult to partly see how, with the necessarily superficial consideration given to it by most intelligent observers, this happens.

The various works which, since 1857, have been in progress on the site of the Park, may be considered under two classes: one comprehending changes in the surface of the ground and the production of landscape effects, the other limited to the formation of various structures in stone, brick, concrete and metal. Value receivable for the first will only be due in important amount after years of careful culture, and, for the present, few city-bred men can be expected to fully understand wherein the value is to consist. Structures in masonry, on the other hand, often reveal their full design the moment the builders’ scaffolds are removed, and the quality of those on the Park has been at all times directly comparable with that of much other work with which the citizens of New York are familiar. The roads on the Park, as fast as opened section after section, were found to be superior to any other roads generally known, and being the only public pleasure roads of the city, they have been greatly frequented and obtained much favorable consideration. It has thus been brought about that encomium and criticism of the Park has alike been mainly directed to works of the second class, and most commonly from points of view in which each of them has been seen in a detached form.

The brick, stone, and iron parts of the Park have thus assumed an importance in comparison with its landscape elements somewhat analogous to that of the solid walls of a public building in comparison with its plaster, paint, frescoes, hangings, and furniture. To most persons they yet, including roads and walks, appear the essential elements of the Park. Take them out, and the Park would seem to be without plan. But leaving them in, from the practice of considering the several structures each by itself, the analogy of a [248] public building would commonly be felt to be defective chiefly in that the plan of the Park is presumed to be much less coherent than that of any building.

It thus occurs that propositions respecting the Park have been constantly made, the like of which are never heard in regard to any public building.

The new Court House has been a great deal discussed during the last few years, but, in all that has been written, a demand has probably not been made that certain of its rooms should be fitted up with billiard tables or suitably for religious services or public demonstrations in anatomy; the lack of a convenient carriage way to the roof or to the lunch-counter has not been complained of, nor has it been proposed to remedy the present cramped, inconvenient and unattractive arrangements for refreshments by devoting the more spacious of the court rooms to this purpose.

The fact that such changes of the plan would, in some limited view, be improvements, does not hide the larger fact that the acceptance of but a few propositions of the same character would soon completely ruin the building for the purposes which it has been built expressly to serve, and in reference to which, whatever value it may have is presumed to lie.

But propositions quite as fantastic are not infrequently made with earnestness in regard to the Park. It has, for example, been seriously proposed that it should be used as a place of burial for the more distinguished dead of the city; that all religious sects should be invited to build places of worship upon it, and often that some central feature should be introduced corresponding in obvious importance to the dwelling in private grounds; that this should be a grand people’s cathedral in which all sects might unite in a common litany; that it should be an exhibition and advertisement of the goods for sale in the city; that it should be many other things as diverse in character as the worship of God and of Mammon.

It has been urged that the plan of the Park should be so contrived that an illustration would be presented on a large though miniature scale of the geography of the continent; an illustration of the geological structure of the earth; a living cabinet of botany; a living museum of zoology.

Provided the principal constructions in roads, bridges, arches and buildings are not required to be destroyed, no structure which in itself promises to be in any way valuable to the public, would seem to be thought, by many intelligent citizens, out of place anywhere on the site of the Park. Thus the location of great buildings in positions where they would utterly destroy the scale of the growing landscape, where they would, indeed, obliterate the most important park features, is frequently urged.

The right has been often claimed to use any part of the Park for any purpose which is lawful to be pursued in the streets of the city; to go anywhere upon it, either on foot or in any vehicle.

A street railway through the midst of the Park has been called for; [249]

steamboats, and even a full rigged ship have been proposed to be placed in its waters.

New roads have been called for, crossing and practically destroying, for their original purpose, the most important features of the design. It has been proposed to widen every principal walk not laid directly along side of a drive, and throw it open to carriages.

A demand has more than once been made for a change in important features of the plan, for no other reason than that particular business speculations would be thereby rendered more promising.

The use of various parts of the ground, assumed to be at present unoccupied, has been asked for horse-races, for steeple-chases, for experiments with sundry new machines, for various kinds of advertising, for the sale of various wares, for popular meetings, for itinerant preaching, for distributing controversial tracts.

Room on which to erect tents, and make enclosures within the Park for circuses, concerts, trials of strength and skill, and all manner of popular exhibitions, has been frequently applied for with confidence.

As the city grows larger, projects for the public benefit multiply, land becomes more valuable, and the Park more and more really central, applications for the use of ground upon it for various more or less plausible purposes, are likely to become increasingly frequent and increasingly urgent, and there will thus be a strong tendency to its conversion into a great, perpetual metropolitan Fair Ground, in the plan and administration of which no general [250] purpose need be recognized, other than to offer, for the recreation of those who may visit it, a desultory collocation of miscellaneous entertainments, tangled together by a series of crooked roads and walks, and richly decorated with flowers and trees, fountains and statuary.

The only solid ground of resistance to dangers of this class will be found to rest in the conviction that the Park throughout is a single work of art, and as such, subject to the primary law of every work of art, namely, that it shall be framed upon a single, noble motive, to which the design of all its parts, in some more or less subtle way, shall be confluent and helpful.

To find such a general motive of design for the Central Park, it will be necessary to go back to the beginning and ask, for what worthy purpose could the city be required to take out and keep excluded from the field of ordinary urban improvements, a body of land in what was looked forward to as its very centre, so large as that assigned for the Park? For what such object of great prospective importance would a smaller body of land not have been adequate?

To these questions a sufficient answer can, we believe, be found in the expectation that the whole of the island of New York would, but for such a reservation, before many years be occupied by buildings and paved streets; that millions upon millions of men were to live their lives upon this island, millions more to go out from it, or its immediate densely populated suburbs, only occasionally and at long intervals, and that all its inhabitants would assuredly suffer, in greater or lesser degree, according to their occupations and the degree of their confinement to it, from influences engendered by these conditions.

The narrow reservations previously made offered no relief from them, because they would soon be dominated by surrounding buildings, and because the noise, bustle, confinement and noxious qualities of the air of the streets would extend over them without important mitigation.

Provisions for the improvement of the ground, however, pointed to something more than mere exemption from urban conditions, namely, to the formation of an opposite class of conditions; conditions remedial of the influences of urban conditions.

Two classes of improvements were to be planned for this purpose: one directed to secure pure and wholesome air, to act through the lungs; the other to secure an antithesis of objects of vision to those of the streets and houses which should act remedially, by impressions on the mind and suggestions to the imagination.

The latter only require our present attention, and the first question with reference to them is: What class of objects are best adapted to the purpose?

Experience would lead most men to answer that they are chiefly such as give the characteristic charm to gardens, pleasure grounds, and rural landscapes. But some consideration may be required to determine by what [251] mode of selection from among these, and by what general principle of arrangement, the highest practicable degree of the desired effect is to be attained.

It sometimes occurs that a certain species of trees grow naturally, under conditions favoring such a result, in forms of extraordinary symmetry, their heads each having the outline of a haycock set upon a straight, perpendicular post. Occasionally several such trees may be found in nature growing together. Any number of objects of that character would have but limited value, if any, for the purpose of the Park, because it is a character more nearly compatible in a tree than any other with the convenience of men when living compactly in streets and houses. Trees of that form might be, and, in fact, sometimes are, grown along the streets of the city between rows of houses.

A series of rose bushes, grown in pots, trained to single stems, sustained by stakes, would have even less value. Trim beds of flowers, such as might be set on a drawing-room table, or in the fore-court of a city dwelling, still less.

A cluster of hornbeams and hemlocks, the trunks of some twisting over a crannied rock, the face of the rock brightened by lichens, and half veiled by tresses of vines growing over it from the rear, and its base lost in a tangle of ground pine, mosses and ferns, would be of considerable value, partly because of the greater difficulty of reconciling the presence of such an assemblage of natural objects with the requirements of convenience in the streets, but mainly because the intricate disposition of lights and shadows seen in the back parts of it would create a degree of obscurity not absolutely impenetrable, but sufficient to affect the imagination with a sense of mystery.

A broad stretch of slightly undulating meadow without defined edge, its turf lost in a haze of the shadows of scattered trees under the branches of which the eye would range, would be of even higher value, and if beyond this meadow occurred a depression of the surface, and the heads of other trees were seen again at an uncertain distance, the conditions would be most of all valuable for the purpose in view, first, because there would be positive assurance of a certain considerable extent of space free of all ordinary urban conditions, and, in the soft, smooth, tranquil surface of turf, of immunity from the bustling, violent and wearing influences which act upon the surface of the streets, and secondly, because the imagination, looking into the soft com-mingling lights and shadows and fading tints of color of the background would have encouragement to extend these purely rural conditions indefinitely.

Considering that large classes of rural objects and many types of natural scenery are not practicable to be introduced on the site of the Park-mountain, ocean, desert and prairie scenery for example — it will be found that the most valuable form that could have been prescribed is that which we have last indicated, and which may be distinguished from all others as pastoral. But the site of the Park having had a very heterogeneous surface, which [252] was largely formed of solid rock, it was not desirable that the attempt should be made to reduce it all to the simplicity of pastoral scenery. What would the central motive of design require of the rest? Clearly that it should be given such a character as, while affording contrast and variety of scene, would, as much as possible, be confluent to the same end, namely, the constant suggestion to the imagination of an unlimited range of rural conditions.

The pleasing uncertainty and delicate, mysterious tone which chiaro-oscuro lends to the distance of an open pastoral landscape certainly cannot be paralleled in rugged ground, where the scope of vision is limited; but a similar influence on the mind, less only in degree, is experienced as we pass near the edge of a long stretch of natural woods, the outer trees disposed in irregular clusters, the lower branches sweeping the turf or bending over rocks, and underwood mingling at intervals with their foliage. Under such circumstances, although the eye nowhere penetrates far, an agreeable suggestion is conveyed to the imagination of freedom, and of interest beyond the objects which at any moment meet the eye. While, therefore, elements of scenery of this class (which may, for the present purpose, be distinguished as picturesque sylvan scenery) would both acquire and impart value from their contrast with the simpler elements of open pastoral landscapes, their effect, by tending to withdraw the mind to an indefinite distance from all objects associated with the streets and walls of the city, would be of the same character.

The question of localizing or adjusting these two classes of landscape elements to the various elements of the natural topography of the Park next occurs, the study of which must begin with the consideration that the Park is to be surrounded by an artificial wall, twice as high as the Great Wall of China, composed of urban buildings. Wherever this should appear across a meadow-view, the imagination would be checked abruptly at short range. Natural objects were thus required to be interposed, which, while excluding the buildings as much as possible from view, would leave an uncertainty as to the occupation of the space beyond, and establish a horizon line, composed, as much as possible, of verdure.

No one, looking into a closely-grown wood, can be certain that at a short distance back there are not glades or streams, or that a more open disposition of trees does not prevail.

A range of high woods, then, or of trees so disposed as to produce an effect, when seen from a short distance looking outwardly from the central parts of the Park, of a natural wood-side, must be regarded as more nearly indispensable to the purpose in view — that of relieving the visitor from the city — than any other available feature.

The site of the Park being naturally very broken and largely composed of masses of rock, the extent to which the meadow-like surfaces of pastoral scenery could be introduced in the plan was limited.

It was, then, first of all, required that such parts of the site as were [253] available and necessary to the purpose should be assigned to the occupation of elements which would compose a wood-side, screening incongruous objects without the Park as much as possible from the view of observers within it.

Secondly, of the remaining ground, it was required to assign as much as was available to the occupation of elements which would compose tranquil, open, pastoral scenes.

Thirdly, it was required to assign all of the yet remaining ground to elements which would tend to form passages of scenery contrasting in depth of obscurity and picturesque character of detail with the softness and simplicity of the open landscapes.

There are other elements yet to be considered; but those thus classified and assigned to various quarters of the site alone contribute directly to the general characteristic purpose of the Park, and are, therefore, to be distinguished as its essential elements.

This should be clearly recognized. As neither glass, nor china, nor knives and forks, nor even table and chairs are the essential elements of a dinner, so neither bridges, towers, shelters, seats, refectories, statues, cages for birds and animals, nor even drives and walks are the essential elements of the Park. But as what is well designed to nourish the body and enliven the spirits through the stomach makes a dinner a dinner, so what is well designed to recreate the mind from urban oppressions through the eye, makes the Park the Park. All other elements of it are simply accessories of these essentials.

Accessory elements, by which walking, driving, riding, resting, eating and drinking are facilitated, were also to be required in the design of the Park, in so far as they would be instruments necessary to be used to obtain the benefit of its essential elements.

But if people were to be allowed to straggle at will anywhere upon the ground, and if provision were to be made for their doing so comfortably and with cleanliness, all the ground would need to be specially prepared for the purpose; there would be no turf and no trees upon it, and it would afford no relief from the city. It will thus be seen that these accessory elements of the Park are admissible only where and so far as the advantages they offer in making its essential elements available compensate for any curtailment their introduction may involve in these essential elements. They are desirable to be seen, so far as they aid the essential elements in inviting the observer to rest or move forward in one way or another, as shall most conduce to his recreation. They are undesirable to be seen, so far as they tend to weaken, divide, blot or make patch-work of the essential or natural landscape elements.

The first consideration, then, in a truly critical study of the size, form, and place in the Park of any required construction for the accommodation of visitors was, originally, and always should be, that the degree of display which may be allowed in it should correspond, as nearly as other considerations will permit, with the importance of the need it is designed to meet; this [254] being measured, not only by its average value to each user, but with regard also to the number of those who will have occasion to use it.

The second consideration is, that whatever serves to display an artificial construction required for the convenience of visitors is undesirable:

1st. In the degree in which the border-screen is required to be broken.

2d. In the degree in which the scope of meadow-surface is required to be broken.

3d. In the degree in which picturesque passages are required to be disconcerted.

And the location of such constructions as are necessary to convenience should, as far as possible, be regulated by this scale.

But a class of possible accessories requires consideration which are not strictly necessary to make the essential elements of the Park available, yet which may be adapted to indirectly increase the public value of those elements. For example, a great space of ground is not necessary to the performance or the enjoyment of music, but the effect of good music on the Park is to aid the mind in freeing itself from the irritating effect of urban conditions, and by increasing the pleasure of a visit to the Park, it will tend to enlarge the number of visitors to it, and prolong the average period in which the special means of recreation afforded by its essential elements are active. The simple question, then, in regard to the admissibility of musical entertainments on the Park is: will the necessary means of providing such entertainments, as the fixed orchestra, the seats or standing places of the audience, lessen the value of the essential elements of the Park?

Similar considerations will apply to various entertainments which are partially scientific and educational and partially amusing — a cage of monkeys or parrots, for example. But it being understood that to accommodate adequately the numbers of visitors to be expected on the Park, the necessary accessory elements alone must occupy the eye more than is desirable, it may appear that no considerable structures for such purposes can be justifiable.

There are, however, certain localities which may be regarded as exceptional in this respect. They occur from the fact that the Legislature found it convenient to define the legal bounds of this body of the city property by the pre-existing street lines, which do not precisely coincide with the desirable limits of the Park as a work of art, which must nevertheless be all included within them; there are, therefore, along the boundary, several small spaces of ground, buildings within which, if properly designed, will not affect the park landscapes, and which, regarding the Park as a work of art, and with reference to the purpose of affording recreation by scenery from urban conditions, may be considered as extraneous. Questions of height, size and style of building being involved, these exceptional outer districts cannot be here more accurately defined. The extent of such debatable ground is, however, [255] quite limited, and the question of the legitimate occupation and disposition of all parts of the Park site proper need not be complicated in the present discussion by the slight opening thus admitted for exceptions.

We submit that such requirements and restrictions as have been thus developed, commend themselves to common sense as well adapted to secure the desired end of the undertaking of the Central Park.

That the original plans were formed in accordance with them, and that they were respected by the original Commission, has been, as we know, sincerely and intelligently doubted.

We propose, in another letter, to consider the more common grounds of such intelligent doubt before examining the course of alleged improvement which has been more recently adopted.

Examination of the Design of the Park and
of Recent Changes Therein.

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In the present letter we shall hope to establish the conviction that the restrictions and requirements set forth in our last had been faithfully regarded in all classes of work under the original Commission, and shall afterwards indicate the course with respect to them which has since been taken.

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A complete review of all the work being neither practicable nor necessary, we shall address ourselves to points in regard to which intelligent doubt has appeared, and, with reference to the recent works, to such as are most significant of the spirit and intention of alleged improvements.

The preliminary study of the original plan, it will be remembered, was first presented in competition with thirty-three others. One of its distinctions was, that it presented larger unbroken surfaces of turf and of water than any other; it was designated the “Greensward” plan. In actual construction the extent of open pastoral surface had been made even larger than was suggested in the preliminary study. It will not be denied that, wherever it had been practicable to complete the work up to the boundary before the Commission was superseded, the required screening woods had been planted, while one of the criticisms upon the Park has been that, in much of the remaining ground, a wild negligence and seclusion has been suffered to prevail which was not in good taste.

Assuming, then, that, with more or less skill the prescribed requirements had been regarded in the design, as far at least as the primary blocking out of natural features is concerned, the question remains, and is one upon which a substantial difference of judgment undoubtedly exists, as to how far, in the subsequent introduction of accessories, or convenient furniture for use, the advantages so gained have been unnecessarily sacrificed?

The architectural features of the Park are numerous and costly, more numerous and costly, it is sometimes said, than those of any other modern pleasure-ground. From this fact, with the influences, explained in our first letter, fixing public attention very strongly upon the architectural works during the period of construction, it has happened that an impression has been very generally adopted, even with qualified judges, that the interest of the Park has been designed to be found largely, if not chiefly, in this class of its works.

The existence of such an impression is placed in very strong light by a not uncommon criticism that these works are so situated as nowhere to be seen to advantage; that they are not individually imposing structures, and that they are never so associated as to produce grand combined effects, such as might have been obtained had a series of boldly projected and well-designed objects of no greater costliness been arranged symmetrically in one noble composition, supported by corresponding plantations, as in the works of the old architectural school of gardening.

Perhaps the existence of the same impression is shown, however, even more strongly, when the Park is spoken of in terms of approval, which could not be applied to natural scenery, as “a magnificent garden,” for instance. It has naturally followed, also, from the same impression, and as a retort to misapplied compliments, that regret has been often expressed that the Commissioners had not had the good taste to prefer a plan purely in the natural style.

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To persons who have not given special study to this subject, the frequent reference thus made to schools is liable to withdraw attention from the only point of any real importance that these comments prove to be in question, by making it appear necessary to understand the whole art of gardening before it can be intelligently answered. That this is not the case, we shall attempt to make clear by considering upon what purity of style, in a work of the class in question, depends. This may be seen by examining the conditions, and consequent human wants, in which each of the two schools referred to originated.

The architectural style of gardening was in vogue long before the period of Christian civilization; its finest examples probably had been formed in regions of grand landscape features, but of arid climate and with a general aspect of stern, wild and savage nature. The primary motive of design under this school, is, accordingly, to produce a splendid urbanity.

The natural school originated in the last century, and was based on the experience that in northern countries of perennial turf and of gentle topography, modern civilized men, however they may admire the magnificence of the ancient pleasure-grounds, find more refreshing and more lasting pleasure in certain not at all extraordinary types of natural landscape. An extreme statement of such an experience is found by Mr. Robinson, in an account by Sidney Smith of a visit to “a very grand place,” with which at first he had been enchanted. He says: — “It seemed something so much better than nature that I really began to wish the earth had been laid out according to the latest principles of improvement. . . . In three days’ time I was tired to death; a thistle, a nettle, a heap of dead bushes — anything that wore the appearance of accident and want of intention - was quite a relief. I used to escape from the made grounds, and walk upon an adjacent goose-common, where the cart-ruts, gravel-pits, bumps, irregularities, coarse, ungentleman-like grass, and all the varieties produced by neglect, were a thousand times more gratifying than the monotony of beauties the result of design, and crowded into narrow confines.”

The landscape or natural school proceeds upon an analysis of such experiences to design the means of similar gratification, as far as may be practicable in any given situation, artificially, and to reconcile the means of doing so with the cleanliness, convenience and comfort of those for whom the ground is prepared.

The two schools do not stand in opposition to each other, any more than the shoe-maker and the hatter. The question, if there must be a question of schools, is not, which do you like best? which is most to your taste? or which is the latest fashion? but which, in this or that particular case, promises to provide most toward the fullness of life? and this is wholly a question of special circumstances and conditions.

But as there is no doubt that an attempt to combine motives of such opposite character is sure to produce a feeble result, it is a perfectly reasonable [258] demand that, in a work like that of the Central Park, it shall not be uncertain which has been adopted. Whether the number of architectural and avowedly artificial constructions on the Central Park established such an uncertainty, depends on the special motive of each of these constructions, as will be evident from the following considerations:

In all much frequented pleasure-grounds, constructions of various kinds are necessary to the convenience and comfort of those to be benefited; their number and extent being proportioned to the manner in which they are to be used, and to the number of expected users. If well adapted to their purpose, strongly and truly built, the artificial character of many of these must be more or less displayed. It is not, then, by the absence nor by the concealment of construction that the natural school is tested.

On the other hand, the principal elements of scenery in architectural gardens, even of such extreme types as that of Versailles, is found in verdure. It is not, then, by the absence nor the concealment of productions of nature that the architectural school is known. What remains as the essential distinction between the two would seem to be, simply, that in architectural gardening, natural features are employed adjunctively to designs, the essential pleasure-giving elements of which are artificial, while in natural gardening artificial elements are employed adjunctively to designs, the essential pleasure-giving character of which is natural.

It being admitted that the main purpose of the Central Park, as defined in our previous letter, exacts the predominance of natural elements; if this simple requirement in respect to its necessary artificial constructions is kept in view, no further consideration of what, under other circumstances, has been the practice of one school or the other, need enter into a critical review of its design. Neither need the special science of the gardener be brought in question. As Mr. Palgrave, in the preface to his Essays on Art, says of judgment upon what are more commonly and conventionally spoken of as works of art: it “is a matter which simply resembles other branches of human knowledge: a certain natural faculty or bias must always be presupposed; with this, as in case of mathematics or of language, taste is obtained by study and observation; and, as in those sciences, leads to a practical power of decision. Some few strictly technical qualities remain, on which the artist alone is a judge. But this exception does not invalidate the criticism of spectators, * * * * * the technical qualities are only means to a public end, and the question which remains always is, how far do they tend to the object of all the fine arts — high and enduring pleasure.”

To a fair understanding of the architectural elements of the design of the Central Park, it is first of all necessary that some effort should be made to realize what extent of accommodation will be required in this particular ground when it shall be in the centre of a city of perhaps two millions of [259] people, surrounded by water and by densely populated suburbs for some distance beyond the water.

Obviously, not only in extent, but in solidity of construction, the means of accommodation which must at times be actually occupied in various ways by visitors will need to be somewhat different from those commonly associated with natural rural scenery. Somewhat different, also, from those required in most foreign public pleasure-grounds — the people of London, Paris, Vienna and Berlin, for example, having each nearly as many thousands of acres to scatter over in pursuit of their recreation as those of New York have hundreds.

By far the most extensive and important of the constructed accommodations of the Central Park are those for convenience of locomotion. How to obtain simply the required amount of room for this purpose, without making this class of its constructions everywhere disagreeably conspicuous, harshly disruptive of all relations of composition between natural landscape elements on their opposite borders, and without the absolute destruction of many valuable topographical features, was the most difficult problem of the design. If anyone has doubts of this, it will only be necessary to drive through the Park, pausing at frequent intervals to consider what would be the difference of effect were the groups of foliage, even in their present partial development, thrown back twenty feet on each side, and were the rocks blasted out or the slopes of the surface broken, which will be seen within that distance.

In dealing with this problem, the following considerations had weight. In any roadway much frequented by pleasure-vehicles, and little used otherwise, half a dozen heavily laden carts often cause more divergence from direct movement, and thus more impede such use of it as is chiefly desired, than as many hundred carriages driven at nearly equal moderate speed. A woman attempting to lead a child across the road when it is all crowded with rapidly moving vehicles, will often cause three or four horses to be pulled up to avoid her, and this will oblige others in the rear of them to be turned out of their course; or, if they are near the curb, also to be pulled up to avoid a collision. Consequently, under these conditions, the distance between the curbs will be frequently found, no matter how great it is, inconveniently narrow for those who wish to drive at a steady trot, and a given number of pleasure-carriages will move with greater regularity and be better accommodated in a wheel-way forty feet wide, from which ordinary slow traffic and people on foot are excluded, than in one eighty feet wide to which these sources of obstruction and disturbance are admitted. Again, in crowded thoroughfares, continuous straight-forward movement on the walks is chiefly impeded by people — especially women, children and infirm — who stand fearful and hesitating at the crossings, and whom, under these circumstances, others sometimes find it difficult not to press upon.

These and other observations of similar import, both in our streets [260] and in European parks, led to the planning of a system of independent ways: 1st, for carriages: 2d, for horsemen wishing to gallop; 3d, for footmen; and 4th, for common street traffic requiring to cross the Park. By this means it was made possible, even for the most timid and nervous, to go on foot to any district of the Park designed to be visited, without crossing a line of wheels on the same level, and consequently, without occasion for anxiety or hesitation.

Incidentally, the system provided, in its arched ways, substantial shelters scattered through the Park, which would be rarely seen above the general plane of the landscape, and which would be made as inconspicuous as possible, but to be readily found when required in sudden showers.

Without taking the present occasion to argue the point, we may simply refer to another incidental advantage of the system which, so far as we have observed, has not been publicly recognized, but which, we are confident, may be justly claimed to exist, in the fact that to the visitor, carried by occasional defiles from one field of landscape to another, in which a wholly different series of details is presented, the extent of the Park is practically much greater than it would otherwise be.

The system was elaborated with great care in detail to accomplish the necessary introduction of its numerous arches and variations of surface, in such a manner as that the ravines and ridges should not appear to have been constructed to order; natural depressions of surface were generally made available for approaches to the subways, but sometimes the construction of picturesque defiles through rock, and even tunneling was resorted to in order to avoid disturbance of important landscape features. In most cases rocky banks were worked up boldly against the masonry of the arches, so that as little as possible of it should be exposed; these banks were planted in such a manner as to obscure it still more. The arches were often so made that a thicket of bushes could be substituted for an obviously artificial parapet. The necessary railing of others was used as a trellis, so that it disappeared under a drapery of twining foliage.

In the majority of cases where, two years ago, the design had not yet been at all realized, we believe that visitors, in passing over the arches, often did so without being aware of it, and in passing under them did so with an experience of gratification. In the single instance where a choice is offered between crossing the drive by the same number of steps upon the surface, or by an arched way, the latter is generally chosen by habitues of the Park.

More than nine-tenths of the so-called architectural objects of the Park have been built as necessary elements of this special system, which had been designed to supply the maximum of accommodation with the minimum of disturbance of its natural scenery, and especially of the more important features of its natural scenery. (In looking across the two principal meadows, in no direction is an archway to be seen. There is one on the edge of a third and smaller meadow, but it is so retired and shaded as in summer to be undiscernible.)

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It may here be mentioned that there had been, under the old Commission, but two permanent buildings erected upon or in the edge of the open grounds, and both of these were flanked by groves of trees; one, was a cottage containing dressing-rooms for ball-players; the other, a small, tent-like structure, the mineral spring pavilion. As yet, the appearance of even such small structures, seen often against the sky and in sunlight, is glaring compared with what it will be when the planted trees shall curtain round and overhang them.

Taking all the architectural features of the Park together, we believe that when the natural elements of the design have been fairly developed, those which had been established under the original Commission will be found to very moderately affect its landscape character, and that rarely will more than one of them be distinguishable from any particular point of view.

It is not to be assumed that in such cases it will always be seen undesilably. It is, to say the least, doubtful if the most effective anti-climax to [262] the lofty buildings and paved levels of the city is to be found in a scene absolutely devoid of evident human handiwork. No authority on landscape design has contended for this. Mr. Ruskin has shown the value of a bridge or chálet introduced in a representation of even the grandest scenes of nature. Uvedale Price, who, in his zeal for the picturesque, argues that even rudeness resulting from storms, decay and the depredations of beasts should be reproduced by the gardener, cuts trees away to bring a mill, a village spire, or a cottage into his park compositions. Shenstone says, “a rural scene is never complete without the addition of some kind of building.”

To determine whether any structure on the Park is undesirable, it should be considered, first, what part of the necessary accommodation of the public on the Park is met by it, how this much of accommodation could be otherwise or elsewhere provided, and in what degree and whence the structure will be conspicuous after it shall have been toned by weather, and the plantations about and beyond it shall have taken a mature character.

Under the peculiar plan adopted in laying out the roads and walks of the Central Park, no one, we believe, who will candidly study it, can doubt that there is a much smaller parting and displacement of the essential natural elements of the Park and a much smaller display of artificial elements than there would needs be, had it been undertaken to provide an equal amount of public accommodation without the architectural constructions of the archways.

Even, however, if a doubt can be maintained on this point, it can be no more than a doubt. Fifteen years ago, the grounds of doubt were very clearly before the administration of the Park, and they were cautiously and deliberately weighed; every argument against the expedient which has since been raised being fully presented and considered before it was adopted. Having been adopted, there is no part of the drive, no part of the ride, and but little of the walk system which is not studiously adjusted to the arches, and planned, in respect to course, breadth, curves and grades, with a constant purpose to avoid leading people on foot to wish to occupy ground on which others have a right to drive horses. That a certain advantage was promised by the arrangement, there has never been a doubt; that a certain advantage is experienced from it, there can be no present doubt. To justify setting aside this advantage, be it considered large or small, after all that has been expended to secure it, there should be clear evidence that some greater advantage is to be gained which cannot be secured without its sacrifice.

The serious and intelligent questionings of the plan of the Park to which we have thus replied, are nowhere recognized in the Annual Report of the Department, but in its undertakings of improvement a disposition to give up the advantages of the archway system has, as we shall show, been quite unnecessarily manifested, while the appliances originally used to avoid undue prominence in its necessary architectural elements have been neglected [263] and in some cases dismantled. In the structures originating with the late administration, indeed, the reverse purpose is evinced; each, no matter how humble its purpose, being made as conspicuous, both by location and design of elevation, as its purpose will allow, and no consideration being paid to the manner in which the natural features will be affected by it, either in scale, color or composition.

The Annual Report, however, contains a series of strictures upon some points of the Commission’s policy, of minor consequence, but for a fair understanding of which some explanation seems desirable. It should be remembered that a good deal of forecast had been necessary in regard to the housekeeping work of a place in which the wants of some hundred thousand people would require purveyance, often for several days in succession, and, in which, especially the wear, tear, and litter of that number of visitors would need to be cared for by means and methods which would not be unseemly, would not obstruct their movements and would not interfere with their pleasure. To this end a considerable amount of handy fixtures of the class of dustbins, tool, store, and other closet-rooms would need to be provided. As an illustration, turf must be kept close or it will run out; the cheapest and best way of keeping it close on the pastoral surface of the Park is to graze it with sheep, and for the sheep thus required, shelter is sometimes necessary. Until the Commission was superseded, old buildings, temporarily left upon the Park for the purpose, and slight temporary structures had been used for these offices. One of permanent character only had been begun, the general barn and stable, which had been so designed and placed that, although its roof, as now completed, is much larger than any other built upon the Park, not one visitor of a thousand has probably ever seen it. It is, at the same time, centrally located, and has direct communication with the streets, clear of the Park drives and walks. The same will be true of the range of workshops which has been begun under the late administration, in a situation and upon a plan previously prepared. Other buildings of this class had been designed to be similarly dealt with. We shall show later that a different policy has been initiated since, in respect to them.

In the original design of the Park, there had been no provision for zoological buildings or yards. Gifts of living animals having been afterwards made to the city, temporary quarters were provided for them in one of the old buildings, formerly occupied as a State Arsenal, and which was used likewise for various administrative purposes. Temporary enclosures were also made for pasturage in two places on the borders of the Park. As the collection gradually increased, mainly from gifts to the city, it became evident that better provision for it would be necessary.

By taking advantage of the circumstances referred to at the close of the preceding letter, and carefully adjusting the required buildings, yards, paddocks, roads and walks to the plan of the Park, a considerable collection of the hardier birds, beasts and reptiles might be provided for without serious [264] encroachment upon its important features; but if a general exposition of the zoology of the world were to be undertaken, including moderately liberal provision for giraffes, elephants, camels and other large tropical graminivorous animals, which, besides airy shelters and strongly enclosed open grounds for a satisfactory exhibition of their characteristic movements and habits in summer, with ample approaches and accommodations for crowds of lookerson, need also roomy and artificially warmed winter apartments, it was seen that, with all possible skill in the arrangement of these appliances, the Park must be grievously injured with respect to its essential purposes. It was also seen that it would be a measure of economy to bring all required buildings for tropical animals near together for convenience of heating.

The suggestion was, therefore, made and adopted that a piece of un-improved land belonging to the city, lying near the Park, should be placed in the hands of the Commission — such parts of it as were needed, to be occupied by the tropical section of a popular zoological exhibition.

The impression is very emphatically conveyed in the Annual Report, that the ground given to the Commission in accordance with this suggestion, is wet, cold, and impossible to be drained, and that this consideration, which makes it utterly unsuitable for the purpose, had wholly escaped our attention. As the late administration itself proposed to erect buildings for men and women upon the same site, it is hardly necessary to refer to this argument further than to state that surveys had been made and two distinct plans of drainage, with estimates, prepared, either of which was perfectly feasible. There was no formidable difficulty in making it dryer, more sheltered and warmer than any ground upon the Park.

Besides living animals, the Park had been made a receptacle for a variety of gifts to the city: some of them illustrations of art, others of history, others of science.

The policy of your Commission had been to cautiously foster the formation of collections mainly by the voluntary associated action of citizens, in which, through its negotiations, the public should be secured certain rights, rather than establish museums to be solely managed by the civic authorities.

A question had arisen as to whether any suitable buildings or building sites could be offered for this purpose; and this leading to the inquiry where on the Park a large range of buildings could be placed at the least disadvantage to its essential elements, a plat of ground east of the old reservoir had been indicated. The reason for this selection was that a large range of buildings at this point would be seen from no other point of the Park, the locality being bounded on two sides by the reservoir walls, on a third by a rocky ridge, and on the fourth by exterior buildings, while the whole of the territory thus enclosed was too small for the formation of spacious pastoral grounds, and [265] was less well adapted and less required than any other equal space for contrasting picturesque effects.

Public interest had been rapidly increasing, and public agitations rapidly growing and tending to comprehensive and liberal combination in respect to these associated and incidental purposes of the Commission’s work; and although the time was not thought to have arrived for a definite and final study of plans, it was seen that some extensive public or semi-public buildings, in connection with the Park and on city property, would soon be called for, in the basements and courts of which it was not unlikely that some of the necessary accessories of the Park would be incidentally provided. Under these circumstances, the policy of the Commission being a waiting one, temporary accommodations continued to be patched up and used for many purposes, more and longer than was consistent with its own convenience or perfect efficiency of management for the time being.

The old arsenal, for example, was found a useful make-shift during the period of construction, but was regarded as a conspicuously ugly and ill-placed building. A part of the permanent buildings to which its contents would be transferred, had already begun; projects for others were forming. Pending the question of its evacuation and demolition, expense had been as much as possible avoided in fitting it for its temporary duties, and, so far as its exterior was concerned, outlay had been chiefly directed to subduing its color, making it less conspicuous by reducing its height, and training over it the vines which the late administration has torn down and uprooted. The same temporizing policy led to the maintenance of various humble arrangements which are dealt with in the Annual Report, as if they were permanent, prominent and characteristic elements of the Park

Most of the structures really permanent in character, which were built by your Commission, are unquestionably well built, and, like all firm and well-built permanent works, they were honestly costly. A doubt is admitted whether, in respect to arrangements of temporary convenience, a somewhat more liberal policy would not have been more economical. On the other hand, while there can be no question of the great improvements made in this respect under the late administration, there may be a question whether their costliness is fully justified. But this is a matter of minor consequence, and we now turn to the main question of the alleged improvements of the permanent elements of the Park.

During fourteen years the whole work of the Central Park centered, as has been shown, upon three branches of a single purpose: first, the putting out of view of exterior buildings by a suitable disposition of tall growing trees; second, the formation of a series of broad, simple meadow surfaces, with, when practicable, such a disposition of umbrageous trees, without underwood, as would render their limits defined; third, the development of a [266] series of landscape passages strongly contrasting with those of the pastoral and high wood districts in complexity of grouping, and the frequent density, obscurity, and wild intricacy of low growing foliage, especially on broken and rock-strewn surfaces. The permanent accessory elements of roads, walks, arches, and other structures had been located and designed in strict sequence and subordination to these purposes; as little as possible to conflict with them, as much as possible to support them.

The question now before us is, how have these purposes been served during the last year and a half; how far has the value which had been gained previously been increased, and in what degree, with reference to these purposes, has the design of the Park been improved by the changes made?

First: as to the screening woods?

The Department has done nothing to advance, and but little practically to thwart this branch of the design, but it has published the declaration (page 20 of the Annual Report) that it is an illegal undertaking; that an unobstructed view across the Park from any house that may be built around it is one of the rights of the owners of the adjoining land that cannot be interfered with for the public benefit. In that case, unquestionably, much of the work which has been done upon the Park, under the late administration itself, as well as previously, has been worse than wasted, for much earth and rock has been heaped up, as well as trees planted, which must have this illegal effect, and it would seem to be necessary for compliance with the requirement, to reduce its surface everywhere to the level of the adjoining streets.

Second; as to open landscapes?

The Department has begun the erection of a large series of buildings, which is intended to be followed by the construction of a series of small yards, of walks between them, and of lines of trees following these walks, upon the largest meadow of the park The first of the houses may be seen, exteriorly nearly complete, about 400 yards south of Mount St. Vincent. The meadow is intended to entirely disappear, and in defending its course (pages 23 and 280, Annual Report) the late administration has not considered the landscape value of this opening worth mentioning The argument of the defence is based, as we have shown, upon a fallacy.

In the site of the lower Park there were originally two spaces besides those excavated for water, where, by the reduction and covering with soil of a few comparatively small ledges of rock, it was possible to obtain some expanse of landscape. One was at a lower elevation than the other, and they were separated by a rocky ridge and rapid slope. Along this slope it was thought necessary, for reasons of exterior convenience, that one of the roads for common business purposes crossing the park should be carried. This was graded eight feet below the natural surface, and a ledge to the north of it having been blasted out for the purpose, an opening about 200 feet in width was thus secured, by which the range of the eye from both sides was greatly extended, looking from the south, considerably more than half a mile. Walks [267] leading from the main walks were laid out near the edge of the sunken road, from which however the masonry of its walls was concealed. A row of English elms “breaking joints,” with a row of silver maples, pruned as street trees, to long naked trunks, has been planted by the late administration, following the lines of these walks. The effect, if they should be allowed to grow as intended, will be to completely close this opening, previously secured at so much expense.

Third: as to the more picturesque elements?

It must be admitted that the plantations of the Park, and particularly the more picturesque plantations, at the period of the change of administration, did stand, as claimed in the Annual Report, in need of extensive revision. The construction of the Park had proceeded by districts, one after another being taken up in succession. From the time in which drainage and grading work began, until the roads and walks of any district were finished, was generally a period of from two to three years. It was necessary to finish roads and walks before the ground adjoining them could be surfaced and planted. As soon, however, as roads and walks were finished, the public eagerly thronged upon them. The desire was strong with the Commission that when this occurred the impression produced by the appearance of the adjoining ground should not be so disagreeable as it was likely to be if left in the extremely rough and cumbered condition which the border of a road under construction must have. It often happened that the first opportunity of clearing them occurred very late in the planting season; in the spring, so late that only coniferous trees could be planted safely.

The Commission had declined to adopt the policy urged upon it at an early day to establish a large and varied nursery of its own. It began with the trial of some not very successful experiments to obtain its trees, like brick, stone and cement, by contracts to the lowest bidder. It had been found impossible, through ordinary channels to obtain many desired trees and plants, and especially to obtain anything like the number of many that was required. Of some that were then costly, there was a certain doubt, since wholly removed, that they would endure the climate of the Park, at least until its surface should become less bleak.

These and many other considerations (some of which are indicated in the printed document of the Commission, No. 4, of 1859, pages 5 and 6), led to a habit of occasionally giving a temporary finish to the ground, and often to the planting of unsuitable trees, especially strong conifers, which would serve to give it a fresh, green appearance, and at once cover its nakedness, with the intention of subsequently removing them to the outer parts of the Park.

Owing to successive changes of policy of other departments of the city, the finishing of the outer parts of the Park was delayed, and for this and other reasons the necessary measures for securing an adequate supply of many desired plants had not yet been taken when the Commission was removed. [268] It sometimes happened, therefore, that only the central or interior members of the principal masses and groups of planting had yet been planted, while cheap lots of the commonest nursery stock had been dropped in along the borders of the drives and walks in front of them.

With similar motives, indigenous trees and shrubs had been suffered to remain untouched in some localities, where, when full grown, they would destroy important landscape compositions, and these had already partly overgrown and obscured some points of interest.

The intended revision, by the removal of temporary material and the introduction of finer detail, the cutting away of low growth in some cases, the establishment of low growth in others, had, it cannot be denied, been in many parts postponed longer than was desirable.

A vigorous remedy for this neglect has, during the last year been in progress. The result is frequently, that in parts of the Park in which the intricacy of low growth and picturesque obscurity had been required in the design, the natural underwood has been grubbed up, the original admirably rugged surface made as smooth and meadow-like as ledge-rock would allow, and the trees, to a height of from ten to fifteen feet, trimmed to bare poles.

The object of these operations is stated in the Annual Report to have been that of securing “a circulation of air,” “opening beautiful views of lawn and scenery,” and clearing the Park of “cat-briars and tangled weeds.” The undergrowth removed was, in fact, largely of indigenous azaleas, clethra, cephalanthus, and the commonly associated interesting wood shrubs, with plenty of asters, gentians, golden rod and the like. No shrubbery or low growth seems to have been valued unless it could be seen within a clean-edged dug border.

The extent to which this kind of improvement has been carried, is partly indicated by the fact that the quail, both Eastern and California, with which the Park was well stocked, and which were breeding in it freely before the destruction of the covers, have now almost wholly disappeared.

The bolder rocky parts of the Park had been in some cases, especially in the more recent work, left with a smooth surface of turf or of clean, bare ground between and about the base of the rocks, and with smooth, turf-covered flanking slopes, conditions scarcely ever seen in nature, incongruous and uninteresting. The intention had been to give a temporary finish to these parts that would save a destructive wash of the surface; and afterwards, at a convenient time, to add peat and wood earth, and bring to them a large number of low plants from the mountains, ferns, mosses, and creepers. Nothing like this has been done, but the late administration has, in some of these cases, undertaken an improvement by the introduction of a variety of beds in arabesque patterns, planted with flower-garden annuals.

On the borders of the open ground, where the indigenous trees required thinning, an additional number have in some cases been planted, and [269]

in others an improvement has been attempted by lopping off lower limbs in the manner before described, so as to lessen their umbrageousness and produce the character of street trees.

A large number of structures have been projected, some planned, and the plans of others, half built, recast, but to show how little respect has been paid to the requirements originally recognized in this class of the accessories of the Park, it will be sufficient to refer to two buildings for the humblest purposes, which have been projected, planned and completely constructed since the removal of the original Commission.

No one can visit the Park without having his attention called to a structure placed on a slight elevation, where, in the original design, the principal meadow view from the north part of the Mall was designed to become dim under large trees, which were also to hide the buildings on the Eighth avenue, which lies sixty paces beyond. It consists of a central building, two stories in height, with low wings, extending diagonally on each side toward the Green, and terminating in two handsome pavilions of greater elevation. It has throughout a high pitched, slate roof, decorated with turrets and gilded iron work; the walls are of pressed brick, with trimmings of cut blue stone and polished granite, and its general aspect suggests a large English parochial school. Its cost has been $70,000. It is officially designated a “sheepfold,” and its ostensible purpose is to provide a shelter, at night and in severe winter [270] weather for the sheep used to keep down the grass on the adjoining Green. The pavilions at its ends, however, are designed for the use of visitors, and it has been intended that portraits of sheep and specimens of wools should be hung upon their walls. It is expected, as stated in the Annual Report, to be “a great attraction to all classes.” It can, nevertheless, only be reached by foot-men, after crossing the Bridle Road on the surface at a point where, owing to its grades and curves, a rider would not see persons crossing before him until too close upon them to pull up a galloping horse. So little was this objection to the site and arrangement valued, that when the attention of the Department was called to it officially, it obtained no attention. A flower-garden was designed to be formed in front of the sheep-shed, between which and the door to its public rooms the Bridle Road passed.

A “cottage” may be seen a little to the north of this edifice. It is situated between two branches of the Bridle Road, which must be crossed on the surface by everyone visiting it.

Situations for both these buildings, free from this objection, in which they would have been more convenient for their purposes, and much less obtrusive, might have been found within a stone’s throw of their present positions.

On the drive east of the old reservoir, one of the archways of the walk system has been lengthened: in rebuilding its end, the original arrangement, by which a screen of shrubbery was carried across the arch, entirely concealing the artificial work, has been changed, a broad platform of blue stone, with a substantial iron railing, substituted, and the face of cut stone work over the arch has been doubled in depth.

The Central Park, on account of the narrowness of its site and the way in which it is broken by the reservoirs and numerous rocky ledges, and because of the constructions indispensable to the convenient and harmonious use of it, in diverse methods and under various circumstances, of the vast body of people of all classes, which will need to be accommodated when the centre of population, now four miles away, shall be in the midst of it, could not be given a landscape character of as much simplicity, tranquility and unsophisticated naturalness as, for its primary purpose, was desirable. If the work done upon it during the first fourteen years was designed, without undignified tricks of disguise, or mere affectations of rusticity, to get as far as practicable the better of these difficulties, and secure as much as possible of this desirable character as we have given reasons for claiming, all that has been done and projected since has been directed by the reverse motive and necessarily to the waste of what had before been gained.

In judging what should now be done with the Park, there are a variety of minor considerations which seem to require more attention than, in public discussions, they always receive.

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The Central Park is not by any means to be the only place of resort in the city for pleasure-driving and walking. To say nothing of the smaller grounds now in use, at least twenty miles of shaded “boulevards” are already laid out upon the island, besides four notable pleasure grounds, which remain to be prepared. From two of these grounds, and from a number of points in the boulevard system, views much more grand than any on the Central Park will be permanently commanded, and each of the pleasure grounds will be likely in some respects to excel the Central Park in beauty.

The boulevards, five miles of one of which, 150 feet wide, is nearly complete in its constructive features, will offer much better opportunities for a display of equipage and for general public promenade than can be presented in the Central Park.

No part of any of the lands now owned by the city on the island is suitable to be formed into a parade ground, which the present Governor has declared to be a necessity of the city, the demand and agitation for which has already been heated and is sure to occur again and with increasing force.

Four broad avenues of communication, running parallel with the principal drives of the Park, are now under construction, and will in a few years be open to public use. These will withdraw an important element of the travel that now passes through the Park.

As population increases and lodges nearer the Park, those who will resort to it for a short stroll on foot or for lounging and resting-who will require walks, seats and shelter — will increase in number much more rapidly than those who come to it in carriages and on horseback. It may in time even be superseded as the fashionable promenade, but, unless greatly mutilated and mismanaged, in no other grounds can there be offered any comparable degree of simple rural effects or of advantages, in that respect, of relief from the city. This special quality of value, then, in the Central Park, should be carefully guarded against a disposition to extend the wheel-ways, or crowd the limited open spaces with artificial objects of interest which would soon have greater value elsewhere.

The value of the Park to the city will be greatly affected by the degree in which good nature and a liking for good order and decorum prevail among those who resort to it. Nothing is so unfavorable to an increase of its value in this respect as temporary, make-shift, incomplete or imperfectly finished arrangements by which the convenience and comfort of visitors is affected and their esthetic impressions are confused. The best means of education in good order is good order.

The walks, especially the concrete walks and gutters, borders of the walks, wooden foot bridges and wood work generally, are now in bad order, and partly from neglect of timely repair, much of their original material will require to be replaced, The present condition of the various works of all classes, executed from eight to fifteen years ago, demonstrates the superior [272] economy of the more substantial and, in the first cost, more expensive structures, and also of a judiciously liberal policy in maintenance.

The existing arrangements for supplying refreshments in the Park are temporary and incomplete: the buildings in which they are served are none of them adapted to be used precisely as they are at present.

The Central Park was designed in all its parts to be closed at nightfall, and to be environed by a walk thirty feet wide and six miles long, to be brilliantly lighted for a night promenade. The time must soon come when, if the Park proper is left open at night, it will be impossible by any practicable force of police to prevent the occurrence of frequent crimes and gross outrages upon it. The advantages for clandestine purposes offered in its numerous coverts of rock and foliage, will tend not only to bring the Park itself into disrepute, but to form a bad neighborhood about it. The attempt, recently projected, to light it with gas, while the cost in original outlay and continuous expense would be very great, could not possibly make it a safe or decent place of resort at night. The difficulty of closing and clearing it will increase the longer it is left open after dark. It can hardly be closed, however, at least to carriages, until the adjoining avenues are made ready for use.

The due return for what has already been expended in the Park undertaking, remains not only in abeyance, but, as recent experience has shown, in special peril, so long as the completion of its deferred works is delayed.

Of these there are three classes: First, those dependent on works outside the Park proper. Until, for example, the grading of Eighth avenue is complete, a body of trees within the Park, of the first importance in its landscape design, must remain unplanted, although they will need thirty years’ growth to fully realize their purpose, and the trees with which they are to combine, and with which great inequality is undesirable, have already been planted ten years.

Second, those which are yet but vaguely projected, and the location and extent of which, so far as they are to come on the Park at all, is undetermined, as the proposed museums of science, of art, and of living animals.

Third, the refinement and filling out with delicate detail of the present but roughly sketched-in landscape design, especially by suitable horticultural treatment. This, which would not be very costly work, may and should be at once diligently prosecuted.

The increased value of life in this city which has been thought to be promised in the Park, and the expectations of trade, population and wealth to be held and attracted to it, returns more to the city treasury, through its effect on the value of real estate, than the cost of acquiring the Park, as it now stands, has taken from it.

It is quite possible that a large additional outlay may be made on the [273] Park with the eventual result of abating and disappointing the expectations which have been formed of it.

On the other hand, not only may the highest estimates hitherto entertained of its value be realized, but by well directed outlay, they may, profitably, be very much enlarged.