November, 1905 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



303 



is the carriage house, scrupulously clean and a model of 

 neatness; on the other is the stable, with stalls and box stalls, 

 the wainscot of wood, the walls tiled above, the whole in the 

 finest possible order. The harness-room competes with the 

 other parts for nicety of arrangement, and there are sleep- 

 ing-rooms for the men on the ground floor. An automobile 

 garage is a separate building, behind the stable. 



If one leaves this house with regret, one has at least the 

 comforting thought that while it stands one may visit it 

 again, and that, in the meanwhile, it will remain as an object 

 lesson in the art of fine house building. That this lesson is 

 needed to be taught in its immediate vicinity perhaps as much 

 as elsewhere is an added good fortune to its clever architects, 

 Messrs. Carrere and Hastings. Here they have fully dem- 

 onstrated their ability to teach this lesson, as well as ex- 

 pressed, in a very fine way, their complete mastery of the 

 whole art of domestic architecture. 



The Guggenheim house stands in a group of houses de- 

 signed by these architects, all very recent and all character- 

 ized by certain points of similarity. 



Readers of these papers will recall the house of Mr. Her- 

 man B. Duryea, at Westbury, L. I., and that of Mrs. Richard 

 Gambrill, of Newport, as houses of somewhat the same type. 

 The resemblance is typical rather than actual, for they are 

 quite unlike. But they have these points in common : they 

 are built of white stucco; the ornamental detail is restricted 

 to the architectural parts and is thoroughly restrained; the 

 open porch or loggia is developed in all of them, and the use 

 of lattice work, either at the windows or as screens, is com- 

 mon to all. These, however, are quite superficial matters 



compared with the real distinction, the quite evident com- 

 mand of architectural parts, the definite expression of archi- 

 tectural ability with which all these houses are endowed. 

 They are wonderfully pleasing and fine. How much they 

 may have cost I have no idea, but they have every evidence 

 of being costly houses, and that without the ostentatious dis- 

 play that characterizes so many high-priced dwellings. 



I have already stated that Mr. Guggenheim's house is 

 extraordinarily fine and splendid. The words " swell,"' 

 " bully," and other adjectives, technical, semitechnical, 

 slangy and otherwise, rise rapidly to the mind. A mere single 

 superlative word seems hardly sufficient, but at least any well 

 assorted group of superlatives may answer. It is a house 

 thoroughly distinguished in character both without and 

 within. Inwardly the prevailing impression is one of great 

 size and coolness. The ceilings of the first floor are of un- 

 usual height; if those of the second are less lofty, it is chiefly 

 through comparison with the higher ceilings of the floor 

 below. As is fitting in a house intended exclusively for sum- 

 mer use the interior is cool and airy; the lofty ceilings, the 

 stately dimensions, the white walls, the cool coloring, all 

 help in this admirable effect. The prevailing note of the 

 whole interior is white; only two rooms, the billiard-room 

 and the living-room, being exceptions, with walls of pan- 

 eled dark wood. There are no colored curtains at the win- 

 dows, but shades and curtains of white. The colors of the 

 carpets, of the furniture and of the wall papers in the second 

 floor are of the softest tints imaginable; positive enough to 

 give an individual note to each room, but actually so soft 

 and gracious that one scarcely notes their presence, although 

 instinctively aware of it. 



The End of the Home 



R. GOLDWIN SMITH strikes a note of 

 needed warning, melancholy in its truth, in 

 a recent paper on "The Passing of the 

 Household." This, as he very truly points 

 out, is due to the dearth of domestic serv- 

 ants, a circumstance becoming as well 

 marked in England as it has long since been in America. 

 The hold of the English people of the best class on their 

 servants of the best class has been due chiefly to the profound 

 sense of fealty on the part of the servants to the families 

 of their masters. This condition has never existed in 

 America to any extent save in the South, where great 

 slave owners often assumed a paternal aspect toward 

 their retinues of servants. The North offered little oppor- 

 tunity for this ; properties were smaller, the number of serv- 

 ants less, the feeling toward their employers that of employed 

 persons and not as subordinates having a life interest in the 

 home or the affairs of those with whom they lived. 



Is home life, therefore, dependent upon the servants? 

 It would seem that, to a considerable extent, this is true. 

 No home can exist unless work is done within it, and few 

 modern homes — certainly none in the cities and near-by 

 suburban regions — are conducted on the basis that the daily 

 home work is performed by the members of the family. Nor 

 should this be expected. The manual work of the house- 

 hold does not call for skilled labor as it is understood in the 

 trades. A well educated person can find better occupation 

 for her hands and mind than that necessary to the comfort 

 of the household, important as the latter may be. And 

 this, of course, immediately discloses the secret of the whole 



matter. If an educated person need not do housework, 

 why not become educated and thus escape it also? Hence 

 the rush to the schools, hence the multitude of half educated 

 persons, unfit for any occupation that calls for education, 

 thronging the places which should only be opened to the 

 educated. This condition greatly widens the discontent 

 with domestic work, which is looked upon as inferior, and 

 the chief prop of the home is removed, almost without warn- 

 ing and certainly in a very uncomfortable manner. 



The problem is a difficult one, because the present position 

 is one toward which we have long been drifting without 

 being aware of the ultimate end. Even had the logical con- 

 clusion been foreseen it would have been ignored as a bridge 

 to be crossed when we reached it. The present outlook 

 seems to suggest that we have reached the bridge and stand 

 on an isolated abyss, nothing beyond, and absolutely nothing 

 behind which can be availed of in present necessities. 



But the difficulty is not alone due to indifference toward the 

 future. It is due, quite as much as anything, to the desire 

 for independence and personal freedom, which is the most 

 marked American characteristic. Girls who formerly went 

 into domestic service now throng the shops and factories, 

 working for wages which, in the end, amount to less than 

 they would receive for domestic work, and living in homes 

 far less comfortable than those enjoyed by the house serv- 

 ants. This is so decided a tendency of modern life that the 

 sociological observer is wholly without basis for suggesting 

 change and betterment. But obviously the home life, in so 

 far as it has rested on servants, requires to be adjusted to 

 new conditions that can not be ignored. 



