of the discovery, later, when spiritual energies could find an outlet only through the administration of the viceroys, that seed lay sleeping beneath the soil. But it was not dead: on the contrary. As the Americans won their independence, this ideal became more and more clear, definite, and universal. During the nineteenth century the greatest Utopians--whether spiritualists, socialists, or communists, whether their beliefs were true or mistaken-took their way to America as to a promised land, where the happiness to which they all aspired under different names might be realized without an effort. Even to-day the whole continent is an incarnation of hope and offers to Europe a home for its human overflow. Either this is the meaning of history or history has no meaning. If it is not the meaning, it ought to be, and we Americans know it. Immediate necessities, surface misunderstandings, may lead us astray for a day or for a year and even for a hundred years; the great orbit will be unaffected. The declination of our America is as surely fixed as that of a star. America began as an ideal and continues to be an ideal. America is Utopia. Remember with what emotion Wilhelm Meister entertained the idea of remaking his happiness in America. In the hands of Philina, the good seamstress, the scissors tremble at the mere thought of cutting out garments for those in the new colony. Lydia feels herself school-mistress for the new generation. The grave Montan thinks only of mines and mining. Behind them are pleasures and sufferings, the years of apprenticeship and the years of aimless travels. O, Goethe, profound poet! A light breeze dries the jubilant tears on the cheeks of Felix as he returns to life. Standing in the prow, Wilhelm Meister crosses his arms and, full of confidence in America, contemplates the horizon. VIII The lighthouse will rise in that lovely isle whose configuration, according to Peter Martyr, is that of a chestnut leaf. It is the island of Santo Domingo, the ancestral home of America, the primacy of the Indies, the chosen of the Admiral, which, according to Menéndez y Pelayo, received from heaven beauty with misfortune and many times had to remake itself through the storms of its history, struggling patiently and alone as if it knew itself reserved for great destinies. Now there will hasten to its coasts a pilgrimage of all the peoples of America, bearing stones for the tower of our alliance. That flag of light which moves over the water will mark the course for the sailor and throw high on the heavens the Utopian promise of America. IV ADDRESS OF NESTOR E. DE FIGUEIREDO, PRESIDENT OF THE BRAZILIAN INSTITUTE OF ARCHITECTS In this historic moment which brings the announcement of the name of the architect to whose lot has fallen the honor of interpreting the collective sentiment of the people of both Americas, the Brazilian commission collaborating with the members of the Jury of Award in the international competition for the selection of plans for the erection of a monumental lighthouse to the genius of Columbus, expresses to the Pan American Union and the Permanent Lighthouse Committee of the Union's Governing Board its gratitude for the compliment paid it and offers its highest praise to the spiritual discernment shown by those in charge of the competition. The Brazilian architects who are finding inspiration for the development of self-expression through the medium of art under the guidance of the Central Institute of Architects will always treasure as one of the most significant events in the history of their profession the honor conferred upon their country by the choice of Rio de Janeiro as the place for the meeting of the jury which has just made public the announcement destined to be one of the important events of the century. It is noteworthy that once again architects have been called upon to immortalize through their art the sublime achievement of one of the world's great figures; and the monument whose design has been chosen for this purpose will serve not only as a tribute to the moral grandeur of one man but will symbolize the ties which unite all the peoples of America. Architecture is an art of deep social significance which reaches the soul through a philosophy all its own. Before the architect envisioned a monument worthy to stand forever there in Santo Domingo, his was the experience of having been transported to the highest realms of human thought. Then and only then did he create the design of a monument to the Great Navigator which would kindle in the souls of those who gazed upon it the divine flame of brotherly love. Thus the united America disclosed to the world by the deed of the Great Discoverer, now four centuries later proclaims to posterity by the erection of this monument the imperishable glory of his name and the spirit of the present age. All hail to the winner of the competition! All hail to those who with heart and mind have devoted themselves to the task of bringing this project to a successful termination! MODEL OF PREMIATED DESIGN FOR COLUMBUS LIGHTHOUSE The international jury, in awarding the first prize to J. L. Gleave, stated: "Although expressions of new resources in construction characterizing our twentieth commemorates. THE COLUMBUS MEMORIAL LIGHTHOUSE DESIGN By J. L. GLEAVE, A. R. I. B. A. Author of the Design THE IDEAL HIS is an attempt to build the greatest monument the world has ever seen. This is a monument to the greatest ideal in the world— "Progress to God." This is a monument to Christopher Columbus, the chosen personification of that greatest ideal. Progress-the innate urge; the irresistible aim of man since man was. God-the mysterious power behind the world; that made the world; that is the world and that will end the world. Progress to God-the blind urge to progress that spurs us on to the unknown end; that makes each discovery a step forward into the dark and each invention another length of pathway lighted, until everything is explained, and we know who we are, what we are, and why we are. INTERPRETATION OF THE IDEAL Having this ideal of Progress to God, the problem is to convert it to some striking and tangible form which will emphasize it to the people who already realize it, and overwhelmingly convince those who do not. How can this be done? Surely only by taking some man (in this case Christopher Columbus, who of all men in history best expresses this ideal) and, using him as the central theme, building up the monument round him as the Greeks built their Parthenon around the central theme of Pallas Athene, who embodied the ideals of their age. And so we begin. We show Columbus starting from nothing, building up in the form of a cross, surging forward through pain, struggles, disappointments to achievement and a triumphant end, shooting up to God. We show him sharp, clear, and distinct. The vivid germ of the monument, and round this germ, we show his spirit, like a halo. We show it by space indefinable, intangible, limitless, building up round his material life still in the form of the Cross, still symbolizing his ideals. And round his spirit, guided by it, shaped by it, we get Modern Progress, the increasing, irresistible surge of the world through the centuries sweeping towards the light-the point at which, like Columbus, our aspirations shoot upwards to God. Does the form need justifying? Is it not obvious? Could the great mass be anything but Progress, the march forward, the strong sweep forward and upward? And can the Cross be anything but God? The Cross permeates the whole country with its atmosphere. The Cross means everything that is good. Whatever good spiritual or material qualities are in the world are symbolized by the Cross. What a great start it gives a monument to take the form of a Cross! One glance and the visitor is prepared. He is struck at once with a proper mood which can be played on. The Cross can never be cheap. One light remark which can easily be made by one of the thousands of visitors about any other symbol and the monument is ruined. No one dare sneer at the Cross. Las Casas wrote in his diary: "They made it a practice in all those countries and islands when they went on shore, to set up and leave there a cross." Columbus himself wrote: "You shall set up crosses on all roads and pathways, for as God be praised, this land belongs to Christians, the remembrance of it must be preserved to all time." That in itself is enough. DESCRIPTION Let us follow the progress of a visitor through the monument. He stands between the embracing arms of the loggias, in the court of Columbus, gathering courage to enter the great slit. Above him towers the great mass; he can not mistake the meaning. Not only its very shape but the hundreds of names carved all over the surface mark it unmistakeably as Progress. He would be fascinated by the hieroglyphic names, deeds; hundreds of them, showing the building up, century by century, from Columbus's time to our own. Einstein, Lindbergh, Mozart, Pizarro, only one small panel for each. All the nations of the world; all the languages of the world. How small he would feel! How unimportant! How unimportant! Venturing finally into the slit, between the great rough, red walls, he would be attracted directly to the brilliant tomb in the center of the chapel, in the heart of the monument. Around it a great encircling sheet of light through which he would glimpse the indescribable richness of the tomb itself— the gem in the center of the whole 2,500-acre layout. On each side of him the entrances to the museum and libraries, everything peculiarly connected with Columbus being at this low level. And passing the tomb, he would come to the great canyon of Columbus. Along the center runs the long, serpentlike black-green granite tail of sculpture, on which he follows the material life of Columbus rising out of the pebbly, sandy floor of the canyon. The walls are of a very rough texture, deep earthy red in color. The uncanny gloom, the deathly silence, the overawing peace, perfect peace that transfers him down the ages to Columbus's own time; that makes him a participant in the very spirit of Columbus; that makes him feel the confinement, the gloom, the superstition of that age, and as they did, gathering hope and courage from the view of present progress, high above his |