American Architecture: Studies — Themes and Context

Structural Challenges and Urban Foundations

Schuyler devotes considerable attention to the engineering constraints shaping American buildings. In Chicago, he notes the difficulty of constructing tall buildings on the city's "quagmire" soil, where foundations must be "floated upon a raft of concrete and railroad iron" because digging deeper only makes the ground less trustworthy. This practical limitation, he argues, explains why Chicago's elevator buildings lack the "subterranean activities" common in New York. The Brooklyn Bridge, by contrast, presented a different structural problem: its towers required massive stone anchorage to resist the pull of the suspension cables. Schuyler describes the bridge as a "monument" of engineering, but he also evaluates its aesthetic form, noting how the "section of anchorage" and "section of tower" reveal the interplay of function and design.

Aesthetic Judgments and Architectural Character

Schuyler does not shy from blunt assessments. He dismisses Chicago's churches as unworthy of illustration, suggesting they might "suitably illustrate the work projected by a ribald wit on 'The Comic Aspects of Christianity.'" He finds the city's secular public buildings more noteworthy but often "built too early" to reflect the skill of a younger generation of architects. The City and County Building, though massive at 340 by 280 feet, earns qualified praise for its "sumptuosity and swagger" that allies it "rather to the Parisian than to the Peorian Renaissance." In St. Paul and Minneapolis, he examines the Lumber Exchange, the West Hotel, and the People's Church, noting how their designs respond to local materials and commercial ambitions. His criticism is consistently grounded in specific details—doorways, oriels, balconies—rather than vague praise.

The Role of Ornament and the Skyline

Throughout the essays, Schuyler attends to the decorative elements that define a building's character. He illustrates doorways on Madison Avenue, oriels in the Vanderbilt houses, and the "gateway of Mills Building" as examples of how ornament can elevate a structure. Yet he also warns against excess: the Vanderbilt houses, while impressive, sometimes sacrifice coherence for display. The Brooklyn Bridge, in contrast, achieves monumentality through the clarity of its structural lines. Schuyler's discussion of the Chicago skyline reveals his preference for variety and animation; he laments that the city's flat-roofed towers cannot match the "tiara of proud towers" seen in Boston or New York. The Dearborn Station's clock tower stands out precisely because it breaks the "stark, rectangular outlines" that dominate the commercial quarter.

Schuyler's essays reward readers who attend to his precise observations of masonry, proportion, and urban context. He writes as a critic who values both structural honesty and visual delight, and his judgments—however tart—are always anchored in specific buildings and their details. For those interested in late nineteenth-century American architecture, these studies offer a contemporary witness to the ambitions and shortcomings of a rapidly modernizing nation.

When Schuyler studied the Brooklyn Bridge, he saw bones and soul together, structure singing. That same reverence for truth in material—the honest beam, the sincere arch—lives quietly in The Seven Lamps of Architecture — Background and Themes, Ruskin’s older, more fervent prayer to the same god. They sit well together on a shelf, patient friends.