Magnificent Three: Cities that Shaped History

Four hundred years ago, a village by the name of Amsterdam set out to conquer the world, invented capitalism as we know it, and became the richest city on the European continent. There was a sense among the Dutch that whoever you were, you could have a piece of the action. You could be involved in the great economic activity of your society. One hundred years later, London, its main rival, took its place.

The greatest trading power in the world, London endured terrific hardships but went on to become the world's largest city and invented the megalopolis of tomorrow's world. When the railways crashed through the poorer areas of London, people were simply dispersed. They were remarkably swept aside, I’d say. Meanwhile, New Amsterdam had now become New York.

It was under British rule. The city cut itself free and entered the fray. At the outpost of the technical revolution, New York became the vertical city and created a whole new horizon for itself. You watched day by day as this stone structure was built in the middle of the river, getting bigger and bigger and bigger.

Today, we admire the beauty of the city's houses and the charm of its canals. But there's much more to the city than that. Amsterdam is a beautiful place that marks the starting point of a great adventure.

The rise of liberal capitalism, the expansion of worldwide commerce, and the emergence of the global city represent a combination of circumstances that has rarely been seen in human history, fundamentally changing the face of the world. At that time, Amsterdam was still just a small town with fewer than 30,000 inhabitants—a town of little consequence on the European continent. On this spring morning of 1594, near Dam Square, which has been the heart of Amsterdam since its very origins, ten men held a meeting. The meeting took place in the home of one of the participants, a certain Martin Spill, who was a brewer by profession.

Around the table sat men whose businesses traded wood, salt, and herring, products in which Amsterdam had become a specialist. However, their ships were excluded from the trade of pepper and spices with South Asia, the most lucrative products in the world. This trade was controlled by Portugal, which owned a significant number of trading posts along the route to Asia, serving as stopovers for its trading vessels and bases for its warships. On the day in question, this very monopoly was at the heart of their discussion.

The idea is that we can attack the Portuguese on trade with the Far East. By this time, the city of Amsterdam has developed significantly. It has money, and it has people with the necessary expertise; they have been building ships. In other words, all the ingredients are coming into place. Each of the men present that morning had already amassed a fair amount of capital, but it was nothing compared to what they would soon know and the veritable empire they would contribute towards founding. Among them was Dirk van Os, one of the city's most dynamic traders. Originally from Antwerp, he was a refugee like many of the men who attended this meeting. They moved to Amsterdam following a conflict that had been ravaging this part of Europe for the past 25 years.

Music on one side was William the Silent, who was championing the cause of the Dutch Protestants. On the other side was Philip II of Spain, an uncompromising Catholic and one of the most powerful men on the continent. When the northern provinces revolted, he put them to fire and sword.

And the Netherlands finally gained their independence, whereas Antwerp and Flanders remained under his control. Antwerp was, at that point, the main commercial city in Europe, the richest city on the continent, and a primary source of taxation for Philip II and his kingdom. However, the King of Spain made a bet that would cost him dearly. They knew that one thing was true: you couldn't lock up all the merchants. Money is mobile.

So they perhaps uniquely said to those inhabitants of Antwerp, "There is a choice. You can either stay with us; you must convert to Catholicism if you're not yet a Catholic, or you can leave. You have three years to liquidate your assets and take them with you." Half of the inhabitants of Antwerp, who were often more enterprising, chose to leave. Many of them relocated to London or Germany, but ultimately decided to settle just 200 km from their city of origin, in Amsterdam. The richest among them purchased houses in the small medieval town.

Those who couldn't afford to do so built their own homes outside the city walls, on agricultural land. There would soon be tens of thousands of people here, waiting for a better solution. For these refugees, it was the start of a new life, and when a chance presented itself, they weren't going to miss it. They sat down with their cartographer, gathered all the people there, and worked out a system for how they were going to proceed: a route they would take, the ships they would need, and they formed a company, which they called the Compagnie Fanfaire, translating roughly to "the company for faraway lands." It's fair to say that this small group was well prepared.

A man named Cornelis de Hauptmann was sent to Lisbon in Portugal. This small group was well prepared. Cornelis de Hauptmann was sent to Lisbon, where he would work for several years and spy on the leading market players. He knew what he was doing, and despite his lack of experience, he was designated by the group as the leader of this expedition.

The total amount invested was 300,000 Dutch guilders, an enormous sum. Even the richest traders in Amsterdam didn't have such amounts available in cash. A house in Amsterdam cost around 5,000 Dutch guilders, which would purchase a very beautiful home. Therefore, they needed to involve many traders in order to raise such a significant amount of money.

Certainly, dozens of traders were involved as investors in this initial campaign of Houtman's. Three ships, 249 crew members—nobody in Holland had ever undertaken a voyage this far. Moreover, should they cross into hostile territory, the Portuguese could at any moment intercept the expedition and destroy their ships. Plagued with scurvy and rebellions, the voyage did not go well, and Houtman had to stop over for several months in Madagascar before setting sail for Asia and ultimately reaching Bantam on the island of Java.

Nothing was left to chance. In Lisbon, Haupmann realized that this was somewhere he could buy pepper and spices, but when he reached his destination, he was met with disappointment. The Sultan, who initially greeted him warmly, took him prisoner. Houtman, after several journeys, returned to Amsterdam on August 14, 1597. More than two years later, about 80 of the original 200 or so people made it back. They looked like skeletons and had just a few, really a few, sacks of pepper and spices with them. So, by any logical means, this was a complete disaster.

Except for that handful of men who backed the voyage, they realized they had done it. They had actually gone the whole way there, somehow gotten their hands on some of the spices, and returned. So, they had beaten the Portuguese. They realized then that this was an opportunity. This was going to work.

Amsterdam now needed to gather enough resources for its global ambitions. It needed ships—lots of ships—and as quickly as possible. And it just so happened that, in 1594, three years before Hauptmann's return to Amsterdam, one man found the answer. His name was Cornelius Cornelisoun, and he owned several mills in the village of Aup geist, near Amsterdam. Cornelius Cornelisoun was a great inventor.

He helped Holland harness wind power. Until this point, soaring planks of wood required several men and a lot of patience. But this all changed when Cornelius Cornelitzun developed the crankshaft. This revolutionized shipbuilding production. The crankshaft is actually a very simple invention that converts circular movement into vertical movement.

With this new technique, it was possible to produce planks of wood, which were mostly used for shipbuilding, thirty times faster than before. This considerably lowered production costs and accelerated the shipbuilding process, making the production of large ships much cheaper. It's important to remember that this was happening at the end of the 16th century. The patent dates back to around 1592 to 1594, which coincides exactly with the time when the Dutch set off on their extensive explorations.

At first, the invention met a lot of opposition, and many shipyard workers refused to accept the piece of innovation. However, within a few years, its usage became more widespread, and Holland's advantage over its foreign competitors was overwhelming. Amsterdam was now the leading shipyard in Europe, where they mass-produced the best trade ship of its time. The five years that followed were full of excitement.

More and more expeditions were launched, and many shipping companies were founded. Seventy-five ships were sent to Asia, and the ships began returning loaded with these incredibly valuable spices. This marked the moment that Dutch wealth flourished, and the Golden Age took off. There is a scene described by several writers in which, when these first ships return, all the church bells are ringing, signifying the immense awareness that something truly significant has occurred.

These expeditions brought back 9 million Dutch guilders, which equated to the total sum of Holland's national debt during the war against Spain. They couldn't maintain this strategy indefinitely, as all these companies would eventually start competing. Each one wanted to travel to Asia and purchase spices. The prices in Asia began to rise, which displeased everyone.

And the second problem was the Portuguese and Spanish, who didn't want to relinquish their spoils to the Dutch. There needed to be a well-organized and centralized company with a monopoly for the Dutch in the market, one that would be able to defend itself against the Spanish and Portuguese. Thus, the Dutch East India Company, known as the VOC, was created. It's a key date in the history of capitalism, as well as that of Amsterdam.

One morning in April 1602, Dirk van Oss transformed a room of his house into a temporary office for the Dutch East India Company, of which he had just been nominated as a director. Whoever wished to could buy shares of this new company. There was a sense among the Dutch that whoever you were, you could have a piece of the action. You could be involved in the great economic activity of your society. A total of 1,143 people seized this opportunity.

Not just traders, but also joiners, bronzesmiths, and all sorts of craftspeople—along with seven people who worked as housekeepers—comprised a sample of society in Amsterdam at that time. A total of 3,680,000 Dutch guilders were invested in this new shipping company, marking a significant success for the first operation of its kind in the history of the economy. Dirk van Oss and his house may hold an outsized place in history at the moment when these ordinary people walked into his home to buy shares of stock; you could say this was the moment capitalism was born.

But there was a problem. The investors were used to investing in a single voyage. They had to wait, and when the ships returned, they'd get their money back and could either choose to continue or stop investing. But with the VOC in 1602, they were told, "You can invest, but for ten years, your money will be held for ten years." And ten years was much too long for many small investors.

The VOC found the solution on a small bridge, which can now be found outside the exit of Amsterdam Station. This area, in the early 17th century, was home to the city's port and its many ships, which were ready to set sail out to sea. On the old bridge, the one nearest the sea, those who wanted to sell their shares of the VOC would meet those who wanted to buy them. However, the weather in Amsterdam is unpredictable, and on rainy days, people would meet inside the Saint Olaf Church, a Catholic church that had been abandoned during the Protestant victory. It was subsequently left to the traders of Amsterdam, who came from Scandinavian countries. This place, to some extent, became the first stock exchange in human history.

The process was that you made your exchange on the bridge or in the church, and then you walked to the headquarters of the Dutch East India Company, where you had to get signatures and stamps. This sealed the deal and made it official. The Dutch East India Company headquarters are now part of the University of Amsterdam. It was the first headquarters in the world, with its offices managed by managers and a board of directors. The edifice is the work of Hendrik de Kayser, the leading architect of that time.

He's the one they called when, as stock trading activity increased, they decided to build a proper stock exchange. Hendrik de Kayser had two models to work with: the stock exchange in Antwerp and its copy, the stock exchange in London.

But Antwerp was in enemy territory, so Hendrik de Kayser went to England. Here, only merchandise was traded; company shares did not yet exist. However, the architecture was interesting, and Hendrik de Kayser used it for inspiration. Once back in Amsterdam, he built an edifice based on the same model.

Its location is no coincidence. The new stock exchange was built right in the center of Amsterdam, a stone's throw from the city hall. This signaled that finance and politics would work hand in hand. In Amsterdam, unlike London, merchandise was being exchanged, but so were shares of the Dutch East India Company.

In this regard, the Amsterdam Stock Exchange became the first in the history of global economics. The stock exchange was inaugurated in 1611. Meanwhile, a truce was being signed between the Dutch Republic and Spain. Temporarily relieved of the burden of its war debts, the city would finally have the resources to expand.

In the span of 30 years, 10 square kilometers of the city were excavated, around 100 bridges were constructed, and 3,000 houses were built. With a population of 30,000 inhabitants in 1585 and 105,000 just 30 years later, Amsterdam was soon to become the third-largest city on the European continent. The next part of this story took place in London, at the heart of the city, in the business district. Back then, much like now, it was a city of traders as well.

Music in the early 17th century, London had not yet undergone its urban revolution. It was still a city in the Middle Ages. What it was, in fact, was a very small place compared to the London we know now. It was a tiny fraction of the scale of the city as it exists in the 21st century, and even in the 19th century. The city is currently a crucial financial hub, but not many people lived there.

But back at this time in history, most of the population of London still lived within the area confined by the old medieval walls, which had been built on top of the ancient Roman walls. It was a very small space, what we now refer to as the Square Mile. This area consisted of medieval houses packed very closely together, primarily constructed of timber. Today, London is a crucial financial hub, but during that period, it was primarily residential.

A place that consisted of medieval houses, packed very closely together, primarily made of timber. There were some new structures among them, but it was very much a medieval city, quite old-fashioned. The city was separate from royal power. The sovereigns needed money lent to them by traders, who, in return, received a certain degree of freedom. England's great fortunes originated there.

In 1530, and again in 1934, when Henry VIII split from the Roman Church, he seized all the Catholic monasteries. Until that point, they occupied 60% of the city's space. The king redistributed this among his courtiers. As the king appropriated this wealth for himself, there was a change in ownership of more than half of the buildings in the City of London. These properties shifted from conservative landlords, the churchmen, to forward-thinking entrepreneurs, the merchants, who purchased the church property as investments. Over a period of about 50 years, London became a city filled with extremely wealthy individuals living in their own very large houses.

And these people spent the winter months in London with their wives, who wanted to go shopping. Shopping is absolutely the key to what happens in London. It becomes this extraordinary emporium where people come to buy and sell high-value luxury goods. At the start of the 17th century, the city of London was a rapidly developing commercial center, but it was still far behind Amsterdam.

And when the two cities came up against each other, the city of London would come up short. Back then, much like now, in the city, businesspeople often had confidential information disclosed to them. Especially in pubs, where eavesdroppers would often overhear conversations. Pubs are places where people meet. Pubs are the social hubs, and business centers need social hubs as much as residential areas.

Work is primarily a social activity. Unlike most other nationalities, the British drink standing up rather than sitting down. If you're sitting at a table in a French café, all you hear is the gossip of your friends. You can never quite hear what's being said at the next table, which is always far more interesting than what your friends are saying. In a British pub, there's no such problem.

Because you're standing up, you can easily get close enough to the other group to hear what they're saying, and you can switch off from what your friends are saying, which you already know anyway. Strategic information could fall into the wrong hands, which is exactly what happened in late summer of 1608. This changed the fate of London, Amsterdam, and even the whole of America. That morning, a certain Henry Hudson had a meeting in the offices of the Muscovy Company on a little street in the city called Budge Row. The Muscovy Company specialized in trading with Russia.

And it's not the first time Henry Hudson had put himself in their service. Henry Hudson had spent many years undertaking many voyages to try to find a short route to Asia. On two occasions, Hudson tried to find the right route. The first one went via the North Pole, which obviously didn't work. The second attempt went via the far north coast of Russia and wasn't successful either.

I think of him as kind of like a, I don't know, a Steve Jobs or someone like that of his era who, you know, people started to look at him as someone who knows. Whether or not he did know, and we know today that he did not, but what you had to do was guess. You had to say, "I'm going to put all this information together, and my next guess is that this is the best way." This time, Hudson had a new idea. Instead of traveling towards the east, they'd have to cross the Atlantic and the American continent.

That's what he was explaining to his employers. However, inside the building, nothing happened as he had expected. Not only did they refuse his offer, but they showed him to the door. That said, this incident didn't go unnoticed. A 62-year-old man, Immanuel van Metteren, quickly seized the opportunity.

As the Dutch consul in London, he sought out every piece of information. He employed spies and paid individuals to gather intelligence. One of the subjects he was monitoring was Henry Hudson. He quickly discovered that the Muscovy Company had dismissed Henry Hudson, so he approached him and said, "We will fund you to Amsterdam."

London had just missed an amazing opportunity because Hudson was quickly persuaded. A month later, he sailed to Amsterdam. Upon arriving in Amsterdam, he noticed the different accents, languages, and styles of dress. It was the very moment when they were building their first stock exchange and starting to expand the canal grid. All of this was happening in a multi-ethnic, polyglot society, which would have been very strange for him.

Hudson discovered a new world, a mixed population with many refugees, unlike his city of birth. In Europe, intolerance is official policy, and if you're in London, basically you're English. This is still that moment when identity is intensified and codified by law, almost. Here, there was no king or absolute power, but a republic formed of seven provinces.

They all had to reach a compromise on any big decision. When the city became Protestant, the Catholic churches were converted into general places of worship. However, there were still many Catholics in the city. They represented a third of the population, and their faith had not been banned. Their churches were simply no longer visible.

They were now in individual homes. There were 66 churches like this during the Dutch Golden Age. Everyone knew that services were held every Sunday, but they were tolerated. At a time when Europeans were killing each other for religious reasons, this was proof of a greater openness. It is a legacy that Amsterdam passed on.

Throughout the Golden Age, there was a greater openness. This legacy was passed on by Amsterdam to the entire world. Hudson entered the courtyard of the now legendary building that served as the headquarters of the East India Company, where he met with the directors. They reached an agreement to fund his voyage, but with one condition: Hudson would not head west, as he had originally proposed, but would instead seek a shortcut to Asia through Russia. For their own reasons, they insisted that he attempt a Northeast Passage.

He had tried that and failed. He was convinced that it wouldn't work. However, from one line in the contract, we know that there was tension. The line states something like, "Hudson will think of taking no other route than a northeast passage," which suggests that he was insisting, "No, no, no, we want to go northwest; we want to go northwest," while they were insisting, "No, no, no, we want you to go northeast." In May 1609, as he set sail for Russia, the seafarer was under no illusions as to his chances of success, but he had other intentions.

Having only just arrived in Norway and facing the difficulties they had encountered, he persuaded his crew to do a U-turn and head towards America. The Indians, so we're told, mentioned a waterway that wound its way deep into the continent. Hudson looked for it along the north side, turned around, and finally found the river mouth. He made his way down this river, which would later take his name: the Hudson River. However, after a few days of sailing, he had to face facts.

It was a dead end, so Hudson turned back on himself. Along the route, he met some Indian tribes—some hostile, others happy to trade. He also saw many beavers, whose fur was worth a fortune in Europe. Amsterdam had not found the sea route it had been seeking.

But the city had set foot on the American continent. The year Hudson returned was also the year Amsterdam underwent its transformation. Until that time, Amsterdam was still a small medieval city, but from that moment, it undertook a vast urban expansion program. A few years earlier, a new district had emerged in the northeast of the medieval city. Many refugees from Antwerp had settled there.

The less wealthy were living on top of each other in the 3,300 small homes built outside the city walls. They laid out a plan for a belt of canals, a kind of U-shaped network that would wrap around the medieval center of the city. The canals would be used to address the problem of water and convert it into an advantage. A team was assembled to carry out this ambitious project, and Hendrik de Kaiser was one of the men in charge.

At the start of the 17th century, this construction company was made up of around 150 specialists and craftspeople from around the world. They came from various fields, including masons, carpenters, and sculptors, and this number kept growing. By the mid-17th century, the company had between 600 and 700 employees. There were significant difficulties because Amsterdam is built on marshy land, and each building requires a solid foundation. As a result, hundreds of ships traveled back and forth to the Swedish port of Stavanger to bring thousands of tree trunks to Amsterdam.

Amsterdam was transforming itself into a huge, bristling construction site of wooden triangles, on top of which heavy loads were being hoisted. This is how the posts necessary for the foundation of such construction were buried into the ground—one post per meter across the entire city. I often think that if you were walking through Amsterdam in its Golden Age, you would have been struck by the sound of hammering and the piles being driven repeatedly, because that work was ongoing throughout the century as the belt of canals was dug, and roads, bridges, and houses were being built. The perimeter of the city wall was extended.

The refugee homes were demolished, and two new districts emerged: a residential district and, on the outskirts, a commercial and residential area for those with fewer means. This was the first town planning scheme in the history of European cities. In the commercial area, each profession had its own designated space. In the residential areas, noise was prohibited, and no polluting forms of industry were tolerated. Here, everyone was free to build the house of their choice, according to the size and style they preferred. There was only one restriction.

The house could only occupy half the surface of the plot of land. What is unique about the houses in Amsterdam along the canals is that each of them has a garden. The inhabitants of Amsterdam who lived in these houses—the wealthy traders, bankers, and powerful men—were passionate gardeners and wanted to create palatial gardens at the heart of the city. The Dutch way of designing these urban gardens was characterized by their diverse designs, featuring boxwood hedges, plant beds, topiary, and unique plants.

There were also statues, benches, and garden pavilions. Everything you would find in a palace garden could be found here, but on a smaller scale in a more condensed space. Music could be heard on the ground floor of the house, where there was a reception area. Next door was the office, where business would be conducted with one or two employees. Upstairs was the family space.

Family, in the strict sense of the term as we know it today, differs significantly from historical norms. Before this shift, European homes tended to be much more mixed. Families often included extended relatives, and there could be servants or boarders renting rooms. The Dutch canal house exemplifies this change, reinforcing a new notion of what an individual is and, importantly, what a family constitutes. This emerging sensibility is something most of us now consider an integral part of our lives.

Along the canals in the mid-18th century, they seem surprised that there are so many high-value houses and no sovereign. They are also surprised that this architecture is not solely used for the houses of wealthy individuals, but that even simple public buildings are built this way too, such as orphanages and retirement homes. It’s really quite astonishing.

And they even thought it was a bit excessive to design public buildings like palaces. Amsterdam would now start exporting this revolutionary societal design to the other side of the Atlantic. 1623 marked the creation of the Dutch West India Company, which had a monopoly over trade with the Americas. A year later, it invited volunteers to its headquarters in Amsterdam to join its new colony. It was the Golden Age in Holland, and it was hard to attract settlers.

So they are advertising, and they have this multi-ethnic society. As you would imagine, it’s the people who are at the bottom rung of society who are willing to join. They have nothing to lose and say, "Okay, I'll join." Young people in their 20s, a boy for each girl, all from French-speaking Flanders, now Belgium. In 1624, a few dozen volunteers signed up for this American adventure. At that point, Amsterdam and the Dutch Republic were undoubtedly contesting the world's leading commercial power. However, on the other side of the North Sea, London was building up its forces—a textile force born 250 years earlier in terrible circumstances.

Music: The Greatest Epidemic in European History – The Black Death. Half of the English population was wiped out in the span of a decade. But it was at this point that the English economy discovered sheep farming. Grrrrgh, grrrrrgh! It was at this point that the English economy discovered sheep farming.

Before the Black Death, the population was very high. The economy was geared towards agricultural produce to feed this population. However, after the Black Death, there was what they called a dearth of people. There were very few people, and there was a lot of land.

And so the economy changed, and they made use of the huge amount of land by switching from an agricultural economy to sheep farming. Wool supplies were gathering in London, and for the next two centuries, the city traders exported it, particularly to Amsterdam and Holland, where a great number of some of the best weavers on the continent were working. Now, this was all very well; exporting wool was profitable, and it was a cargo that made good profit. However, there was a way to make even more profit: instead of just sending wool abroad for others to make cloth, they could produce the cloth themselves and then sell it with its increased added value. In the mid-17th century, London finally decided to take the next step. The weavers of Holland were invited to move to the English capital, as well as French Protestants, the Huguenots.

Among them were many textile craftsmen. London thus sowed the seeds for its future industry. They settled in the east of London, near the City of London and close to the port where they had arrived from the continent.

They built houses with weaving lofts at the top, featuring large windows that allowed plenty of daylight to operate their looms for making cloth. This early development of the cloth industry in the UK was what truly enabled the economy of London to thrive, leading to the great wealth that established it as a financial center. The weavers formed the initial hub of what would become the future East End, the major industrial district of the 19th century. Additionally, the port in London witnessed a tenfold increase in its activity. In the span of 50 years, the population of London more than doubled.

By the mid-17th century, it had amassed 500,000 inhabitants. The medieval city grew beyond its confines and rapidly spread toward the west in the direction of Westminster. Westminster, where the king reigned, witnessed urbanization that was spiraling out of control. There were real anxieties about the expansion of London, as it was seen as a place of disease, vice, and crime. The idea that the city might continue to grow was incredibly worrying for this reason. In his palace in Whitehall, the king dreamed of a different city, one devoted to royal greatness. According to Charles I, the example to follow is the Banqueting House, one of the wings of his palace. With its classic design, the building was used for great royal occasions.

Ceremonies. It was built by his father, King James I. The king, featured in these ceiling paintings done by Rubens himself, celebrates glory. The two sovereigns made life difficult in London by imposing all sorts of regulations; they wanted to force it to change.

But they had a problem. Unlike European monarchies, where the monarch genuinely had the power to completely remodel city centers, James I and Charles I were completely dependent upon Parliament, and the government of the City of London had a complete stranglehold, exercising total control over the nature of the city. As a result, their hands were tied. London became one of the bones of contention between the king and Parliament, and the conflict contributed to the Civil War that devastated England in the mid-17th century.

Charles I was defeated, sentenced to death, and decapitated on 30th January 1649 in front of the Banqueting House, the palace he had so dearly loved and recommended as an example to be followed. Despite being a terrible period, the city emerged richer and more powerful than before. This was when the first banks established themselves in London, and financial business became a formal profession. Until this point, financial transactions had been conducted in an informal manner, mostly in settings like pubs.

A rich tradesman would sit at a table from which he held business meetings. A person who wanted to borrow money would approach him, accompanied by another person who would act as a guarantor. If the rich tradesman deemed them suitable, he would lend them the money they requested. However, this practice changed after the death of Charles I. A few months after his execution, Oliver Cromwell became Lord Protector, a sort of dictator, and allowed Jews to return to England.

They had been deported several centuries beforehand. Jewish bankers moved to London from Lombardy in Italy. They chose a street in the city center, now called Lombard Street, and set up their offices there. These were the first office blocks as we know them today. However, the newcomers still maintained a vestige of the old practices.

This type of sign, which all English pubs worthy of the name would hang outside and be named after, has a long history. Pubs and coffee houses had done this for a long time. They always displayed a picture outside, often depicting the king, a castle, or something more unusual. And so it is on Lombard Street that to this day, we see a collection of signs hanging from buildings that look very much like pub signs. However, they don't have any words on them.

They are the world's first logos. So when we see the cat and fiddle over a building on Lombard Street, it is because it was the visual symbol of the company, the bank that operated within, much as had been the case in the days of pub banking. In the span of 50 years, the city underwent a transformation. From a commercial center, it was now becoming a financial hub. England now had the means required for its ambitions, and a war soon broke out between London and Amsterdam to take control of certain sea channels.

But Amsterdam came to the world, and soon a war broke out between London and Amsterdam over control of certain sea channels. Nevertheless, Amsterdam continued to grow, achieving incredible success that sparked keen interest from all around. Music, thank you. Four hundred years ago, a village by the name of Amsterdam began its mission to conquer the world, invented capitalism as we know it, and became the richest city on the European continent.

There was a sense among the Dutch that, regardless of who you were, you could have a piece of the action. You could be involved in the great economic activity of your society. A hundred years later, London, the main rival, took its place as the greatest trading power in the world. London endured terrific hardships but went on to become the world's largest city, inventing the megalopolis of tomorrow's world. When the railways cut through the poorer areas of London, people were simply dispersed.

They were swept aside, you might say. Meanwhile, New Amsterdam had never been; it had now become New York. It was under British rule. The city cut itself free and entered the fray. At the outposts of the technical revolution, New York became the vertical city and created a whole new horizon for itself.

You watched day by day as this stone structure was being built in the middle of the river, and it got bigger and bigger. What’s so special about the DNA of New York is that, unlike other American cities and developments, it doesn’t start with religion. It doesn’t, frankly, start with idealism.

It doesn't start as an experiment in "Let's leave a place where we're being persecuted or where we can't fulfill our identity. Let's go do something idealistic, perhaps even utopian." No. What is New York about? New York is about making money.

What is unique about New York is that it was expressly founded as a commercial place by a commercial entity, the Dutch West India Company. They were here to trap beavers and send the pelts back to Europe. New York was a place to capture animals and turn them into profit.

Spring 1624. Amsterdam's first settlers make their way to America. On board are 15 young boys and children, along with 15 young girls, some of whom became couples during the journey. Upon arrival, they split into four groups.

Four tiny colonies, each separated by several hundred kilometers. It was one year later, in one of these colonies, that the destiny of this handful of adventurers would change dramatically. The colonies had trade relationships with the Marquican tribe, who were at war with the Iroquois tribe. They came to the defense of their business partners but fell into an ambush, resulting in the deaths of five of them. In this time of tragedy, a new leader stepped in.

His name was Peter Minwy. As a means of protection, he ordered all the colonists to gather together under a new leader. From then on, there would no longer be four isolated colonies, but one single settlement, which they named New Amsterdam. The settlers decided to settle on an island located at the confluence of two rivers, at the heart of a huge bay sheltered from the harshness of the ocean. Access to sources of clean water made it quite easy for them to build a small town.

At the time, the site was used as a hunting ground by the Lenape Indians, which they named Manahatta, the island of many hills. And so one day, Manahatta became Manhattan. It was this land bursting with potential that Peter Minuit and the Amsterdam settlers exchanged in 1626 for a few items, the value of which is estimated at 60 florins. In other words, the equivalent of two weeks' pay. If you're studying history, you've got to slow down, peel back the layers, and understand these people at that moment and what they thought they were doing.

Nobody was looking ahead 200 years, 300 years, or 400 years later, when a one-bedroom co-op would sell for a million dollars or something like that. They know perfectly well that the Indian idea of property ownership is not their idea of property ownership. It's kind of a defensive alliance, so we'll allow you to live here too.

And if you're attacked, we'll help you. And if we're attacked, you'll help us. A fortified camp and a small village. The settlers finally had a solid base. However, for ten years, the colony wasn't able to expand, and this is largely due to the West India Company, which wanted to control everything.

The West India Company insisted on running this colony as a monopoly. Therefore, any money to be made had to go through them. As a result, everyone was effectively an employee of the West India Company. The situation is failing, and the people are struggling. Those who are making money are smugglers or prostitutes.

Those were kind of the pirates. These are the main, you know, successful businesses, so to speak. In Amsterdam, the situation was becoming worrying. In 1640, at the West India Company headquarters, the managers finally decided to open trade to whomever was interested. What starts to happen then is that successful Dutch trading companies would send one of their sons to New Amsterdam to set up a branch office.

And because the Dutch Republic is an ethnically mixed place, the settlers are ethnically diverse as well. Fifteen years later, the population of New Amsterdam had multiplied by five and now exceeded 4,000 inhabitants. The small village had transformed into a small city, mirroring the great metropolis on the other side of the ocean. Brick houses and canals made it resemble the Dutch Republic. Of course, all of this has long since disappeared, with the exception of the narrow streets of New Amsterdam, which can still be found at the southern tip of Manhattan.

The famous New York canyons, where the skyscrapers seem to touch each other, are the legacy of the island's first European inhabitants, almost 400 years ago. On this new continent, a colony so small in size was vulnerable. So, a wall was built along its northern edge. This protection was not against the Indian tribes, but against New Amsterdam's two English neighbors. While in Europe, war was breaking out between England and the Dutch Republic, Boston and Philadelphia were a threat they needed to protect themselves from.

Fifty years had passed since the start of the Dutch Golden Age. Amsterdam's belief in its future was resolute, and this building is the best expression of that belief. The New York Times noted that, a few years previously, the old town hall—a legacy of the Middle Ages—had burned down in a fire. Its replacement was built entirely out of stone in a neoclassical style. Constructed on a foundation of 13,659 timber piles, its construction was a remarkable achievement.

Of the cosmos of the universe. Embedded in the marble floor of the Citizens' Hall are two planispheres. Symbolically, when the inhabitants of Amsterdam walked into this huge space, the world would be at their feet. The city of Amsterdam is portrayed as a female goddess who reigns benevolently over the entire planet. And, in fact, you could say that here, yes, the focal point of the Citizens' Hall is actually the axis around which the world revolves.

The building is precisely oriented east-west, further accentuating this macro-cosmological setting. It serves as the central meeting place, essentially an indoor square, you could say, where the central citizens' hall resides. Located at the basement level, this was Amsterdam's financial core. This small room functioned as the central bank, safeguarding access to the city's gold reserves and acting as a safe for the city and its inhabitants. Consequently, Amsterdam dominated global trade, with the average income per inhabitant being three times greater than in other large cities on the continent.

And with this money came all sorts of possibilities. This funding meant that it could complete the huge urban project it had started 40 years earlier. Between 1650 and 1670, the canals were extended by several kilometers, and hundreds of houses were built. It was one of the largest developments to take place in Amsterdam during the Dutch Golden Age, and it was undoubtedly the most successful. At this point, large families were opting for a more sober architecture, which never goes out of style, featuring stone facades that stand the test of time.

An architecture that distanced itself from the age of conquests, great adventures, and new fortunes was mostly over. In 50 years, real empires had been established, not only in trade but also in finance and industry. The history of this house, the biggest private house in Amsterdam, tells us the story of one of the dynasties that reigned over the economy of the Dutch Republic. A family that, within two generations, created a truly multinational entity, whose base was located in Sweden, where they produced iron and traded weapons. The house belonged to the Tripp brothers.

Their uncle Elias had started from nothing. Upon his death, his personal fortune was worth one million florins, which is the equivalent of 4,000 years' worth of an average salary. His successors, Louis and Hendrik Tripp, continued to grow the family fortune, and it was they who built the house, which was, in actual fact, a single facade concealing two adjoining houses. The Tripp brothers sold to anyone who was willing to pay, including the enemies of the Dutch Republic. The Dutch had a lot of enemies, and if you didn’t sell to them, there wasn’t much business left to do.

But the other reason is that, interestingly, the authorities in the Dutch Republic are aware of the fact that doing business with everyone brings in revenue, ultimately benefiting both sides. If you were at the top of the Trip House, you could see all the neighboring houses. The only building visible in the valley was the new city hall. The town hall was a place where only families from Amsterdam could work, but the Trip brothers were from a village located about 50 kilometers outside the city.

They were therefore excluded from the village. Like a stone on the floor, how symbolic or direct it can be a connection to the weapon trade and the cannonry that they have been involved in. Amsterdam had now expanded to four times its size in the early 17th century, and its population had exceeded 200,000 inhabitants. As Europe's third largest city, it was well aware of its power.

But London was a great place, lying in wait, ready to overtake its rival. As such, on the 8th of December 1664, New Amsterdam became New York. This date marked the formation of the city we know today, with its mix of populations and unwavering commercial ambition.

With utmost secrecy, the English had sailed toward New Amsterdam, taking the small city's inhabitants and governor by total surprise. Peter Stuyvesant had led this Dutch colony on the other side of the world for 17 years. He knew his enemies well; they were his neighbors and his best clients. For many years before this point, the English colony in Virginia, when they were shipping goods to England, would send them to New York Harbor and have the Dutch handle it because the Dutch could do it cheaper and faster.

They had developed for over a couple of years. For centuries, they had developed systems for handling these things. Up against the four English ships and their powerful artillery, New Amsterdam didn't stand a chance. And so, Peter Stuyvesant had no choice but to invite his enemies into his own home. However, despite this blatant show of strength, the English conceded practically everything to the small city they had just conquered.

It's an interesting document because, if you read it point by point, you wouldn't realize that these are the conquerors and these are the conquered. It seems more like a negotiation between two equals. The inhabitants of New Amsterdam were allowed to keep their properties, trade as they wished, and retain their right to decide on matters concerning the city. Furthermore, the trading ships that sailed over from Amsterdam would still be welcome.

And the trading ships that sailed over from Amsterdam would still be welcome. When there's a takeover, you have in your mind this notion that, you know, these people leave and these other people come in. They all stayed. Even 20 years later, notaries in the Dutch Republic are writing documents to send people—settlers, Dutch settlers—to the colony. And they're still calling it New Netherland.

Like, they don't want to think about it, you know? And just to jump ahead centuries, in the 19th century, when the great waves of migrants came from Europe to America, by and large, they entered New York Harbor and first set foot on Manhattan. They looked around and saw what is now a teeming society with people speaking different languages and practicing different faiths, all struggling to achieve what we would call upward mobility. And they said, "Well, this is America," you know? But it wasn't America.

America wasn't like that; it was New York. And it was New York because it had been New Amsterdam. In 1643, while New Amsterdam only had a population of 500, one visitor recounted that 18 languages were being spoken there. This mix within the population was passed onto the city of New York, and that's what gives it its identity to this day. The initial mark made by New Amsterdam is no longer visible, but it is ever-present.

In this regard, Haarlem finds its roots in the small town of Haarlem, near Amsterdam. Broadway is in Bredeweg, which means "wide road" in Dutch. Brooklyn is named after Broekelen, another Dutch city. Coney Island comes from "Cony Island," which means "rabbit island." Staten Island is named after Staten Island, referring to the States General, the governing body of the republic during the Dutch Golden Age.

In New York, the spirit of Amsterdam and London has, in some ways, fused, giving America a very unique city. This is also why it's important to understand the story of Peter Stuyvesant, who, straight after his defeat, left for Amsterdam to report back to his superiors. Stuyvesant showed up at the West India Company headquarters to defend his decision to hand over the colony to the English. Once exonerated, he decided to head back to New York, where he spent the rest of his life in the house where he had signed the famous Treaty of Capitulation.

The two years that followed England's seizure of New Amsterdam were horrific for London and its population. In 1665, the plague killed 100,000 people, and the following year saw the Great Fire. London at that time was a city of thatch, timber, and plaster—all building materials that are very flammable. The previous couple of summers had been very dry, making London a tinderbox ready to ignite. St. Bartholomew the Great Church was one of the only buildings to escape the flames.

It was in these rather dramatic circumstances that London took its first step into modernity. I think it's really difficult today to grasp how catastrophic the Great Fire of London actually was. At the time it started, it seemed like just another one of the hundreds of fires that occurred each year, which were typically dealt with and extinguished. Even after the fire had been raging for 24 hours, the full implications for London were not yet understood.

People were moving their goods to the other side of the city. They were placing their belongings in St. Paul's Cathedral, under the illusion that they would be safe there. And, of course, they weren't. The fire in the city broke out in a bakery on the night of September 2nd to 3rd, 1666, and then it subsequently spread.

Although it only claimed nine victims, more than 100,000 inhabitants saw their houses reduced to ashes. It burned until Wednesday, the 5th of September, and destroyed a third of the city. During that time, I try to conceptualize what that would mean for the inhabitants in that moment.

If you think of how a third of London was destroyed, it's that kind of magnitude of event. The fire had done what the kings of England had never managed to do. The medieval city had disappeared, and it could now be replaced with a new city. I think nobody truly understood what the city had lost.

It could now be replaced with a new city. I think nobody really understood what to do next. There was no manual they could go and get off the shelf saying, "Catastrophic fire, page 47, this is what you do." There was a real vacuum of power. Into that vacuum came two very powerful interests.

One was the commercial interest, which emphasized the need to "just get up, get going." They stated, "We just can't afford domestic violence." On the other side was an opportunity to move quickly, as half the population of the city was camping out in areas that had avoided the fire. The question arose: what should be rebuilt? What should the new city look like? One man had the answer to each of these questions. His name was Christopher Wren. He was a brilliant mathematician and a very talented scientist and architect.

Wren was a close friend of King Charles II. He had known him since they were children. The year before, the king had sent him to Paris in what was, in some ways, a spying mission. There, he met Bernini, the architect behind the Vatican, who would be asked to design a new façade for the Louvre Palace. And Wren's.

In a letter he wrote back, he stated, "I brought back all of Paris with me on paper: big trunks full of books, sketches, drawings, prints, and maps." These were all transported to London, and we can imagine him unpacking the large trunk and laying the papers out on a table in front of Charles II, saying, "We could do this, we could do this, we could do this." Christopher Wren was in Cambridge, where he was teaching, when he heard about the fire. He immediately traveled to the royal palace to meet Charles II.

Wren had prepared for this for a long time and couldn't wait to seize such a dream opportunity. And so, before the king, he unfolded his plan for a completely new city. It was entirely un-English because all of London's previous history had developed through the individual acts of entrepreneurs, merchants, and individuals. Here was something being proposed that would be imposed by the state. Christopher Wren wanted to eradicate the traces of the medieval city and build a capital formed of large squares and wide avenues.

A royal capital not dissimilar to the large cities across the continent. This was an absolute catastrophe. Clearly, anything that was going to be state-directed would take ages to implement and, therefore, would interrupt the important business of making money. Of course, the people who wanted to make money won, because London has always been about making money. London was invented by the Romans to generate profit.

The city was therefore rebuilt on the outline of the old city, but with brick houses. It was the birth of a modern city that now found its calling. Thirteen thousand five hundred houses were burned, while only four thousand houses were rebuilt. Thus, London began to change from being a place of dense population to a concentrated trading center.

As for Christopher Wren, although his city plan didn't come to fruition, he was put in charge of rebuilding St. Paul's Cathedral. At 111 meters high, it was the tallest building in London and the largest in Europe at the time. Even today, the cathedral is a symbol of the city, representing the old medieval City of London, which, having disappeared in the Great Fire, later became the first business district in the history of economics. Had Wren's plan been realized, we would have seen a beautiful Parisian-style business district in the history of economics.

Useless for the function of being a world financial center, a city that was once so grand, so beautiful, so complete, and so perfect could not continue to change and adapt. The great constant in London's history is the constant of change. As London has never been planned, it can easily be rebuilt and remade. It is in a state of constant change in its physical form.

As well as in its technology and its forms of doing business. From a disaster, London invented a new urban form. The failure of Christopher Wren's design for his perfect city opened the way for the city we know today. As London became more commercial, it became a less fashionable place to live. Consequently, the rich and fashionable moved out to the west.

And there they were able to build larger houses, houses that had gardens, and houses that, instead of being crammed into narrow streets, were set around large, carefully planned squares. The model of using squares emerged about 40 years before the Great Fire with the creation of Covent Garden, an Italian-style Tuscan church and a collection of houses. It was a very successful project that inspired all the aristocrats who owned property in and around London. The square, therefore, became a good way to make one's fortune. The principle was as follows.

The king granted a piece of land to one of his courtiers. The courtier or one of his descendants would develop it and consult with the king. An entrepreneur would take care of everything, gathering income from the houses they built and passing a share back to the courtier. This arrangement continued from generation to generation for a century, at the end of which the courtier's family would regain full ownership of the land.

They could then decide to use another entrepreneur who would build more houses and return a share of the income back to the landowner or their descendants. It was through this ingenious system that West London, specifically the chic districts, was able to develop. The square was a very clever invention because, at least initially, the people who lived in these houses were extremely wealthy. They may well also have owned, in addition to their house in Australia, a vast country house somewhere in the countryside with many rolling hectares of land. Therefore, they wanted their townhouse to look grand.

In the 18th century, they were no longer squares but little parks situated in the middle of these districts—small, very select parks that were only accessible to the occupants of the houses facing them. By creating what we call a terrace, which is a row of houses built together, you feel, if the terrace is designed as a single structure, as if you are approaching a great palace. But in reality, you are approaching one segment of a great palace. Your servants lived downstairs and upstairs in the attic, while the family lived in the spaces in between.

And so the squares and these great terraces were very popular with the rich because they provided a sense of status, as if they were living in an impressive palace, while in reality, they were residing in very manageable homes in the city. These types of property projects were initially aimed at aristocrats. However, it wasn't long before the upper middle class also took an interest. Naturally, the rest of the middle class wanted to replicate this trend. The aristocratic developments of these great squares set a fashion that trickled down through the social strata.

And so, while the aristocrats lived in very large, tall, marble terraces—sometimes six or seven stories high—with expansive squares covering several hectares, the middle class, comprising clerks and city workers, occupied slightly smaller houses. These homes were built on a similar principle, situated on smaller squares with narrower streets. Here, a simple developer could buy land, build, and then rent out houses. The first to do so was Nicholas Barbon. As a person, he was incredibly difficult, ruthless, and ill-tempered, not allowing anything to stand in his way.

He trained, actually, as a Doctor of Medicine in Leiden, and he returned to London at this moment after the Great Fire when it was emerging as a newly reborn modern city. He saw building very much as a commercial enterprise and was the first speculative developer. He found as many ways as possible to save money for himself. Barbon did everything in sequence.

The stairs, the plaster moldings, the chimneys, and the window frames. In doing so, he amassed a considerable fortune and was soon being imitated by dozens of other developers. This is how London started growing at a frantic pace. It was on its way to becoming the most widely spread and highly populated city in the world. It kept repeating the same urban model again and again: the square model, which it had invented following the tragedy of the Great Fire of 1666.

London was the rising power, Amsterdam was the established power, and France was to be the referee for this merciless rivalry. In 1672, the Hall of Mirrors did not yet exist, but it marks the memory of a conflict that shook Europe and changed the history of these two cities forever. London and Amsterdam had already faced two wars.

And until now, the Dutch Republic had always won the battle. Three years earlier, the Dutch Navy had even invaded England and had crept up on the enemy navy along the coast. Most of their ships had been destroyed. Ever since, the English had dreamed of nothing but revenge. Louis XIV saw this as an opportunity.

The King of England, Charles II, was his cousin. He admired the King of France and his absolute power. The two men were on good terms and formed an alliance in Dover. In early spring, war broke out, and for Amsterdam, the situation was very dangerous. England had formed an alliance with Paris, but also with the communes of Münster and Cologne.

Danger was therefore coming from all directions. The French troops entered Dutch territory. They moved quickly to positions very close to Amsterdam. It seemed as if Amsterdam itself might be conquered.

It looks as if Amsterdam itself might be conquered by the French, but that didn't happen. However, a major part of Dutch territory was occupied by foreign forces for the first time since independence. One of the problems that the Dutch faced in the 1670s was the need to maintain a huge army to fight Louis XIV. That army consisted of about 100,000 soldiers, a significant force needed to combat Louis XIV.

That army consists of about 100,000 soldiers, possibly even more. This implies that for every 20 Dutch men, women, and children together, they are collectively supporting one soldier, which becomes impossible to sustain. The Dutch Republic finally won the battle, but the country emerged from it exhausted. As for its opponents, it was better luck next time. Sixteen years later, the same scenario seemed to be transpiring.

Louis XIV supported James II, Charles II's successor to the throne of England. Therefore, it was possible to establish a military alliance between the two countries. However, their enemy was a determined man. William of Orange was not a king but a symbolic figure within the Dutch Republic, of which he was also the army chief. His family tree alone was a perfect synthesis of the Dutch Republic and England.

William was the grandson of William the Silent, who, a century earlier, had won the war against Spain, to which the Dutch Republic owed its independence. Charles I of England, the king who was decapitated in 1649, was his grandfather. His wife, Mary, was the daughter of the reigning king of England at the time, James II. The man who hoped to ally with Louis XIV to annihilate the Dutch Republic was, therefore, his father-in-law. These very close connections to London were a great asset, and William used them to his advantage.

With great secrecy, he mounted an extraordinary armada of 500 warships and crossed the sea. He brought a large invasionary force of 25,000 men, as well as 60,000 copies of a pamphlet in which he declared, "This is not an invasion. I am English." William of Orange claimed that he was defending the country's interests against its own king, James II, whose diabolical advisers had imposed an arbitrary government on the population. The argument worked.

James II, King of England, fled to France, and when William reached London dressed in white to signify the purity of his intentions, he was applauded and received the support of Parliament. The agreement was that William, together with his wife Mary, would become the new sovereigns of England. For Parliament, the arrangement meant that they would have the final say on all important issues. Parliament granted William and Mary the Bill of Rights and the Habeas Corpus, which, for the very first time, established the limits of a sovereign's power and respect for individual freedom. This episode was later called the Glorious Revolution.

The royal couple were crowned in Westminster Abbey in 1689 and ruled together for a decade. Afterward, the Dutch Republic and England, now united around their two sovereigns, were able to resume their independence. However, within the span of a few years, William managed to incorporate his own little country's values into his new kingdom: individual rights, tolerance, and a moderated governmental system.

By the time both sovereigns died, these values were already deeply instilled. This all cost the Dutch Republic dearly. It was yet another financial burden for a country that was already in significant debt. At the beginning of the 18th century, Amsterdam was still a major capital city, but its heart was no longer in it. One clue indicating that times were changing is the fact that painting, which had been one of the great passions of the Dutch Republic during the Dutch Golden Age, was becoming less prominent. Until then, art throughout Europe had been the privilege of princes, aristocrats, or very wealthy families. Here, it had been democratized.

Music, all those large houses, but also the smaller houses, were richly adorned with paintings. We can see that in the 17th century, approximately 1 million paintings must have been created along the way. Not only in Amsterdam but throughout the entire republic. A baker and a shoemaker often have around five or six paintings. Large collectors have 40 to 50.

But having paintings is actually something very widespread. There is also something very important about paintings. It's akin to having posters on the wall. Amsterdam was the birthplace of the individual. Everyone wanted to showcase their existence or their profession, like a jeweler, or depict their daily life.

If you look at the journals, diaries, and letters of travelers from other parts of Europe, they would come to Amsterdam and visit the Dam or another market. They would find it amazing that you'd see a fish seller and a vegetable seller, with an art seller right next door. Ordinary people would go in and buy these paintings, which were not of a saint or anything like that. Instead, they depicted ordinary people doing everyday activities, like selling vegetables or a woman pouring milk into a bowl. None of it was considered particularly important.

But all of them have a Wikipedia page today. All of these people, these portraits hang in the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum, or the Metropolitan Museum. And it’s because of this, it’s because they were the first people who looked at themselves the way that we look at ourselves. The war of 1672 was a terrible blow that impoverished the country and ruined many art lovers. Vermeer, now a celebrated painter, had no more customers.

He started facing financial problems and never got back on his feet. However, there were some who set off for London. Van der Velte the younger and elder, for example, two marine painters famous for their strikingly lifelike paintings depicting scenes off the coast of the Netherlands, found their new customers in England. Of course, it would be really nice if we could say that on a particular day, the Dutch Golden Age came to an end. But that's not the way it works.

Amsterdam's decline was the result of a slow degradation. However, in 1715, the Dutch Republic took a decisive step that reduced its credit and dissolved its power. The Dutch Republic defaulted on its debt. Although it was only a temporary situation, it was a step too far. This was something that typically only happened to royals.

There was a notion in the Dutch Republic, among all those bankers and individuals who invested their money in the public debt, that monarchs had flimsy characters and, as a result, defaulted on their debts. However, in the Netherlands, there existed a solid institution composed of businessmen who understood their craft. They believed it wouldn't happen to them. Yet, ultimately, it did.

And so this is also the start of a debate that spans almost the entire 18th century, where people are asking, "What did we do wrong, and how can we return to paradise?" But paradise had been lost. Amsterdam was now a city almost like any other. It is at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York that this story finds its conclusion. Amsterdam had experienced its Golden Age.

In the 17th century, two centuries later, New York experienced its Gilded Age. By the late 19th century, during the industrial era, New York became a powerhouse filled with extremely wealthy individuals who became obsessed with art and culture, particularly European art and culture. These wealthy tycoons suddenly began buying up Europe and sending representatives to acquire its history, bringing it back to America to establish museums. In doing so, they sought to connect with their own roots, tracing back to the prosperous figures of the 16th and 17th centuries who were their forebears: the prince of sugar, the baron of railways, the king of abattoirs, and the creator of the first department stores in America.

These huge collectors bequeathed their masterpieces to museums around New York City. By the end of the 18th century, Amsterdam had fallen off the pages of this great story. London and New York now stepped to the forefront. On both sides of the Atlantic, two rival powers would dominate the world and face the challenges of modernity: two rapidly evolving cities shaken by both industry and new technologies.

Two cities in their extreme forms, both experiencing extreme poverty and immense fortunes. They went on to invent the megalopolises we know today. Transcribed by CastingWords: 400 years ago, a village by the name of Amsterdam set out to conquer the world, invented capitalism as we know it, and became the richest city on the European continent. There was a sense among the Dutch that whoever you were, you could have a piece of the action. You could be involved in this great economic activity of your society.

One Hundred Years Later London, its main rival, took its place. The greatest trading power in the world, London endured terrific hardships but went on to become the world's largest city and invented the megalopolis of tomorrow's world. When the railways crashed through the poorer areas of London, people were just dispersed. They were swept aside, you might say. Meanwhile, New Amsterdam had now become New York.

It was under British rule. The city cut itself free and entered the fray. At the outposts of the technical revolution, New York became the vertical city, creating a whole new horizon for itself. Day by day, you watched as this stone structure was built in the middle of the river, and it grew larger.

I watched day by day as this stone structure was built in the middle of the river, and it grew larger and larger. Music at the end of the 18th century, Amsterdam, the leading global trading power, finally had to accept defeat. The Industrial Revolution and demographic explosion occurred, and London would become the dominant power for the following century. However, New York followed hot on its heels and caught up within a few decades.

Now, the competitors, the two cities, were to be the first to face the impact of modernity. On the 21st of September, 1776, while the War of Independence raged, New York was up in flames. Half of the city was reduced to ashes.

It was disastrous, but it also heralded a fresh start. Since its very foundation, New York had never stopped growing. However, once the city was freed from British rule, it underwent remarkable development. Over the decades to come, it literally engulfed the island of Manhattan. Manhattan had an incredible and interesting landscape.

In fact, the name Manhattan derives from the native word for Mannahatta, which means "the island of hills." Manhattan was the island of hills. It featured a rolling landscape—no mountains and no deep valleys, but high hills, many of them rocky. It was a beautiful place, but that is not what the commissioners had in mind.

There were three members of the commissioners' plan for the street and road layout for New York: Simeon DeWitt, surveyor general and the only professional in the team; John Rutherford, former surveyor general; and Gouverneur Morris, the greatest landowner in the state of New Jersey and one of the founding fathers of the United States, who took part in the drafting of the American Constitution. In 1807, they were tasked with planning the layout for the future city of New York.

Four years later, they invented the famous grid pattern layout for the future city of New York. This marked the starting point for a huge expansion, which ultimately made New York the economic capital of the United States. At the turn of the 19th century, New York had two key competitors: Boston and Philadelphia.

At this point, it took the upper hand. Its traders were selling raw materials and buying manufactured products in England, and they became involved in the trafficking of slaves between Africa and the southern states of the United States. This is how they came up with the idea of offering their clients a completely new service. In Philadelphia, Boston, or London at the time, the standard way of trading was to wait until a ship was full, then send it across the Atlantic, where it would wait at the other port until it was full before coming back. They proposed a different and much more efficient service.

Their ships would set off at a set time, whether or not their holds were full or empty. This way, their customers would know exactly when the ship was leaving and when it would arrive with their cargo. This method couldn't be rivaled. Consequently, New York gained a definitive advantage over its competitors. Moreover, by sailing north up the Hudson River and then winding through a canal to the Great Lakes region, the city was able to create a pathway for traffic deeper into the country, thus gaining access to its plentiful natural resources. It was a sizeable challenge because it spanned a vast distance of almost 600 kilometers.

The Erie Canal was the first major construction project in the history of the United States. People were very skeptical; they were concerned about the amount of money that was being borrowed, and it was just not a sure thing at all. It turned out to be a fantastic project, and within just a few short years, the toll revenues collected along the Erie Canal were more than enough to pay off the debt. The Erie Canal was a small revolution for New York, because until that point, it had been difficult or even impossible to travel around such a vast area. From this point onwards, it was much easier to transport wood, furs, and soon coal and agricultural products to New York.

All the items that would be necessary for trade and industry. Philadelphia was the real competitor here. Philadelphia tried to build a canal to the west, but west of Philadelphia are mountains. They started the construction later, and it was more expensive due to the challenging terrain.

That meant that the tolls had to be higher, so the Philadelphia Canal went bankrupt while the New York Canal prospered and grew. You could call the Erie Canal a kind of vacuum, a suction and pressure pump that allowed New York to withdraw produce from within the country and distribute imported products back into the country. This made the city completely unavoidable in the material sense of the word. You absolutely had to pass through it; it was necessary.

The Erie Canal was officially opened in 1825 and gave the New York economy a considerable boost, just as the city was being planned and the famous grid pattern started taking shape. Both projects were intricately linked because two of the three members of the street and road layout commission for New York, Governor Morris and Simeon Dewitt, were also involved in the design of the city. The canal and this mission took up a great deal of their time, and with time running out on their street commission, they essentially punted, which means they searched for an existing plan that they might adapt to their purposes, as they hadn't really come up with a plan of their own. Upon searching through the archives, they came across some work done by a man named Kazimir Gurk. Gurk had drawn up the plans for plots of farming land in the center of Manhattan, in a location that was, at the time, worth almost nothing.

Through these common lands, he designed three avenues, perpendicular roads, and 140 plots, each measuring two hectares. Boom. There it is—the Manhattan grid. It comes directly from the common lands grid, and what the commissioners did was simply expand it, exploding it out from there.

And so, as if by chance, the great grid pattern was born—a pattern without which New York would not be New York. Many other cities would have their planned core, and then as they expanded, they would plan additional subdivisions and add more streets. So, you never really knew what was coming up next. New York, in 1811, laid out this grid that extended almost across all of the island of Manhattan, with all the streets at right angles.

There was a standard plot size. All the plots were roughly the same size. The avenues were roughly the same size, the plots were roughly the same size, and the streets were roughly the same size. This uniformity made every piece of real estate more tradable, more buildable, more developable, and more marketable, which contributed to a very rational real estate market: 12 avenues and 155 streets. The city was about to transform itself into a real estate kingdom, but before it could do so, the island of Manhattan was yet to be conquered.

Nature posed a significant hurdle. The land on the island was very rocky, and its rolling hills were not compatible with the desired grid pattern. And so, New York set to work on a gargantuan project, breaking up the rocks and flattening the hills. The old farms were now a thing of the past and were destroyed one after the other. This is how, decade after decade, the city crawled relentlessly further north.

Manhattan was divided into almost 2,000 sections of houses, or what are now known in New York as blocks. These, in turn, were divided into a few dozen sections, which were very narrow and deep, each designed to accommodate an individual house and small garden. However, investors immediately started buying several plots at a time, and the land became a simple commodity. Consequently, this led to speculation, as people were not buying the property with the notion that they would live there forever, pass it on to their children, and that it would become part of the great patrimony of the United States. None of that.

It's about me buying this property and passing it on to my child. It's not about the great patrimony of the United States. It's about me buying this property, and other people buying properties in desirable areas. Then I sell it as quickly as possible to buy more property elsewhere. I create a sort of regular system so that I can sell it off without having to describe every pro and con of that particular property.

I just sell it off to you like it's a car off an assembly line. Long before the Wall Street Stock Exchange, which later made New York the financial capital of the United States, property was the driving force behind an extraordinary type of growth. The auctioning of plots in New York was a windfall for speculators. And so the first great American fortunes were earned. The temple for this new passion was the Traders' Stock Exchange.

It was located on Wall Street, but at a different address than the one that exists today. There, all sorts of commodities were exchanged, but land in the city of New York was the most sought after. It was here that John Jacob Astor began his career speculating in the property market and earned the first great American fortune. Before anyone else, he realized that the city was going to see a huge surge in its population, and he was subsequently proven right.

There were 100,000 inhabitants in 1810, but 800,000 fifty years later. During that time, the price of land had unsurprisingly increased by more than tenfold. Within a few decades, the steamroller behind Manhattan's great grid had erased everything, with one exception. Broadway is, in my mind, the grid's saving grace. It creates these irregular angled intersections with the north-south avenues.

And these are graceful, urban oases. The only instances anywhere in Manhattan of any irregularity. Broadway, the great avenue of today, follows the outline of a former Indian pathway. And the popularity of Broadway continues to shape the city's cultural landscape.

The city plan of 1811 should have erased it, but it provided access to a great number of ranches, the owners of which ultimately demanded that it be left in place. Two centuries later, it was one of the most famous avenues in the world. Without Broadway, Madison Square, and even Times Square would not have existed. Broadway is the legacy of a time when New York was still a small city on the other side of the world. Before the start of the 19th century, it was already heading towards the great metropolis we know today.

The New York Times. The East End, the eastern side of London. At the turn of the 19th century, as the British Empire began to grow, products from around the world started arriving in the East End. However, London’s port was not ready for such an influx of goods. It was simply known as the Pool of London, where hundreds of ships would moor to load or unload their cargo, while a multitude of small vessels continuously came and went along the banks of the Thames.

You have to imagine this dense congestion of craft moored in the tidal Thames, rising and falling with the tide and transferring their goods to the warehouses that, within living memory, lined most of the riverbank. The tidal range of the Thames is about eight meters, resulting in an enormous surge of water flowing in and out of London. London would have to invest massively to rise to the challenge. This led to the construction of the docks—ports along the Thames that enabled ships to empty or fill their holds much faster. Each of them specialized in a different type of trade.

It might be timber, it might be grain, it might be meat, it might be sugar, it might be rum. The flow of raw materials from the empire and from world trade into the docks generated a huge impact on the industrial complex, and that was really the basis of the East End. The East End was now England's leading port, far ahead of Liverpool, and it had more factories and workshops than Manchester. What you had were narrow streets, densely lined with warehouses, and sometimes with overhead passages that crossed the street and carried goods to another set of warehouses on the other side.

You can still see that pattern. The warehouses have been converted into luxury dwellings, but you can still see the physical pattern in Rotherhithe and in Wapping. A huge number of people from Ireland and continental Europe had come and settled in the East End, which, in itself, became England's best friend. The second-largest city subsequently saw the railway being built. First came the train, then the underground. London was undergoing a revolution—one more violent than ever before. Anyone who had any money in the 1840s, 50s, 60s, or even the 1870s plunged their investments into railways.

This was the way to make your fortune. As this happened, individual projects funded by individual investors brought railways into the city, stopping at various termini. There were as many as 19 termini dotted around the outskirts of London. Then, someone had the brilliant idea of connecting all these peripheral railway stations with an underground railway. For ventilation, steam trains could travel through tunnels that had vents to let the smoke escape.

They were the first underground trains ever invented. The underground railway solved the problem by enabling you to board at one station in the north and then transfer to reach another station in the east. However, the destruction it caused was enormous. In the 19th century, to build a railway, you needed a private act of Parliament that granted you the power to drive your railway through other people's land, purchase their houses, and construct your stations and goods yards.

When the railways crashed through the poorer areas of London, people were simply dispersed. Many were renting their homes on a weekly or monthly basis, lacking long-term leases or security of tenure and ownership. The landlords of these buildings were often quite happy to make a quick profit by evicting their tenants and selling the plots to the railway company or leasing the land to the railway company for construction.

And the poor people were completely disregarded. They were swept aside, you might say. These individuals are displaced. They are not wealthy enough to move far, so they relocate to more slums, which intensifies the situation and exacerbates the already poor areas.

Many parts of London change dramatically in their appearance. There's a famous Doré etching of the East End of London, featuring railways on brick arches and very low-quality housing huddled below, with steam and smoke belching out of the railway engines and into the river. Residential properties lay beneath. This was one face of inner London. The French illustrator Gustave Doré stayed in England on several occasions in the 1860s and produced hundreds of illustrations.

Doré was one of those who discovered, to their astonishment, the most populated city in the world, now undergoing significant change. But London, with its mass poverty, industrial districts, and slums, was also the capital of the most extraordinary wealth. The Prince Regent, future King George IV, was a very flamboyant figure at the time. One of London’s most famous streets is named after him, having been designed by John Nash, his favorite architect.

Music started at the Prince Regent's Palace in Carlton House. It was the dividing line between the poor and wealthy neighborhoods. To the east of Regent Street were the slums, while on the other side was the fashionable West End. Music flourished around Piccadilly Circus and Regent Street.

It was the fashionable West End. They were, and still are, some of London's great emblems. Regent Street divided London socially, but it also created the first truly architecturally homogenous piece of architecture, brilliantly designed to follow the social fault lines of London. It is very picturesque, very elegant, very fashionable, and commercially successful. Unusually for London, it was stimulated by state action.

It's now a neighborhood of brick buildings located in South Manhattan overlooking the East River. Cherry Street is a place that underwent one of the most spectacular transformations in New York during the first half of the 19th century. George Washington, the first President of the United States, had a house there, making it one of the most fashionable streets in the city. In the 19th century, everything changed in New York: mass immigration, economic growth, and urban explosion.

The face of Manhattan transformed. Population growth was so rapid throughout this period of time. There were some decades in the 19th century when we had hundreds of thousands of residents, and the population doubled in just one generation. All these people wanted to work in New York and live in New York, but there was a limited amount of space. Manhattan is an island, with rivers on both sides, so the only place to go was up or to squeeze more people into every block.

And the people who invested in New York City land became experts in fitting as many residents as possible onto each one of those lots. Cherry Street had once been an ideal place for living the sweet life, but immigrants had started settling there in their tens of thousands. As a result, a new type of building emerged: the tenements. They were perfectly adapted to Manhattan's divided structure and the blocks carved out for individual houses, but not for such an influx of people. Instead of these little houses and their gardens, the tenements filled each plot in its entirety.

Initially, a space was left at the back of the building, but as Manhattan's population exploded, they spread throughout the entire block, leaving the occupants with no light or room to breathe. You're talking about no bathroom facilities at all; you're talking about privies in the backyard. You're talking about what we would think of as absolute slum conditions, but with the added feature that it’s intrinsic to the architecture. "Room" is the right word. These were not apartments.

People, of course, had many children. They were also taking in unrelated boarders or lodgers to help pay the rent. So, in two small rooms, you might have 15 people living there. There would be a small area for cooking, and people would be sleeping in both rooms, sharing beds. There might even be individuals sleeping on 24-hour cycles, with some people resting during certain times of the day while others slept at different times.

A lot of work was also done at home, especially in the garment industry. Textiles might be made in the factory, but people often sewed clothes themselves, working as tailors in their tenements. There was a tremendous amount of activity. These buildings were extremely crowded; you might have hundreds of people living in a single tenement building that was 20 feet wide and six stories tall.

There were 100,000 inhabitants in 1810, but 950,000 sixty years later; more than half of them lived in a tenement. By the end of the 19th century, this was the most crowded place on Earth. Now, you might think that it's hard to measure, but we have a pretty good idea of the population in other major cities worldwide. There were more people per square mile on the Lower East Side of Manhattan in New York City than in the most crowded parts of cities in Asia or in London, which was a larger city at the time, but not as crowded per square mile as New York was. The local authorities tried to bring in legislation, but it only imposed minor changes.

At least until Jacob Rees broke the taboo and revealed a reality that everyone had chosen to ignore until that point. He was a Danish immigrant. He had actually lived for a time on the Lower East Side in a tenement. He worked for a new company and was a crime reporter. He made it his mission to try to reform the slums.

Flash powder was invented in Germany, and when Jacob Riis read about this in the newspaper, he had an idea—one that proved to be brilliant. He wrote away and sent for some flash powder, which was sent over from Germany. He learned to become a photographer, acquired a camera, and started going out to take pictures of places like Gotham Court and Cherry Street. He took hundreds of photographs and published a book in 1889 titled *How the Other Half Lives*. The book featured certain recurring themes, including many photos of children standing next to piles of garbage and menacing-looking young men, possibly part of a gang, holding large sticks and looking rough.

Flash powder was essentially gunpowder. It was literally powder that was ignited using a long fuse, resulting in a very bright and loud explosion. Wherever Reese took photographs, he had to find willing participants. This was a manipulative and orchestrated operation, but it was effective. It succeeded in convincing middle-class New Yorkers to support housing reform.

"How the Other Half Lives," the book by Jacob Riis, was published in 1890. However, it would be another 30 years before the worst tenements were destroyed. The first to be demolished on Cherry Street were only taken down in 1920, almost a century after their construction.

Hyde Park, one of the largest and most beautiful parks in the British capital, is where, almost by chance, a small revolution took place that would change the future of London, and also that of New York. It all started when Queen Victoria, or more precisely, her husband, Prince Albert, decided to organize a great exhibition and design a building for that very purpose. The problem was that the building had to be relatively cheap, constructed very quickly, and able to be moved away at the end.

Who is now commemorated by a memorial located where the exhibition was held, appointed a commission that refused all proposed projects as they were deemed too expensive or inappropriate. At least until Joseph Paxton proposed the most ingenious solution yet. Paxton wasn't an architect but a gardener. In the gardens he worked on around the Chatsworth Estate, he designed greenhouses for growing tropical plants. Gardening, of course, is an area where you need to solve problems with the limited materials available to you in a relatively quick way.

A lot of ingenuity is required from gardeners, and Joseph Paxton was probably the most ingenious gardener that ever lived. To host a world fair, Paxton believed a giant greenhouse would be the perfect solution. All the parts required for its construction could be prepared in a factory. The building's frame would be made of cast iron, and its roof would be glass.

It was the first building of this size to be open to the public and entirely prefabricated. A workforce of about 2,000 men was able to construct the Crystal Palace in a period of eight months due to prefabrication. The glass was produced in standard-sized pieces, and the components that held the glass were also manufactured in factories and brought to the site, ready for assembly. Even the drainage system was standardized, with the gutters being integral to the building's structure. Furthermore, the supporting columns of the building were actually drainpipes designed to carry away water from the roof. The entire construction was very practical and well-engineered.

With its six million visitors, the World Fair was a huge success, and it did not go unnoticed. New York, which already saw itself as London’s major competitor, refused to be outdone. It immediately chose a location for its own exhibition on the site of what is now Bryant Park. Its pavilion was also called the Crystal Palace, and the discoveries made there were very advanced for their time.

It was at this exhibition that Mr. Otis demonstrated his latest invention. He gave the order to cut the rope holding the platform he was standing on. It stopped dead. His elevators could now be trusted. "It's danger-free," Otis yelled to the awestruck crowd.

It was the first leap in the race to higher levels, which New York would soon be leading. The second leap was taken three years later, a bit further south, in a neighborhood that now no longer stands out due to the height of its buildings. It was here that James Bogardus built his first prefabricated cast-iron buildings. Bogardus used the same method that was used for the Crystal Palace in London, but adapted it to a building of much smaller proportions.

His first building resembled an Italian palace from the Renaissance period, sculpted out of stone. It was iron, cast in a warehouse. Bogard designed three buildings like this one, all in different styles. Since his invention was so remarkable, it was immediately copied, leading to the creation of a whole neighborhood filled with imitations of antique Italian or Parisian architecture.

These metallic office buildings, which weren't yet skyscrapers, were seven or eight stories high and extremely adaptable because they enabled what Corbusier referred to as "free plans." In other words, they were very flexible buildings that could be used for storage or offices. Nowadays, they can be utilized as artists' workshops. They were the first buildings on this scale to use cast iron furniture, with frames that didn't require load-bearing walls. It was four years later that one such building, the Horwath Building, with its revolutionary architecture, was finally introduced to the lift. Today, it has since been modernized, but it was at this very location in 1857 that Mr. Otis installed his first vertical car.

I think few people would get into a car and be transported to an upper level. They would sit on a bench while the elevator rose slowly, floor by floor. Those elevators are driven by steam engines or hydraulic lifts. The technology is extremely primitive; they’re not electric motors that make them move quickly up and down.

Electricity, which would eventually make it possible to equip much higher buildings with elevators, did not arrive until the end of the century. For now, Mr. Otis's invention was being tested on a smaller scale, and it was still just a simple curiosity. In 1870, Manhattan was still a city made up of small buildings—a fairly horizontal city, a city in the making.

Music: A City in the Making. That year, the summer was stifling, and the stagnant water in the Thames became a swamp with an unbearable stench. It was a period known as the Great Stink. The city's population had just surpassed 3 million inhabitants.

There was no sewage system, and pollution was a huge problem. London was the first to tackle it. Members of the House of Commons who had meetings by the Thames could no longer work. Some meeting rooms were inaccessible because the stench was so unbearable.

They doused curtains in chlorine and hung them in Parliament windows to try to alleviate the bad smells, but also to disinfect them, as it was still believed that bad smells carried disease. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Disraeli, was forced to leave a meeting room with a handkerchief to his nose, practically gagging because he could no longer bear to stay in the room. The press was delighted, writing, "Finally, our leaders will do something. They'll finally understand how our people have suffered for a dozen or so years next to this cesspit." A few weeks later, Parliament voted in favor of building a wastewater collection network.

But it was dumped into the Thames, only a few kilometers upstream of London. This is where, in 1878, the Princess Alice disaster occurred. A cruise ship, carrying 800 people, collided with a collier twice its size. Six hundred people died in the tragedy.

Six hundred people died. Many passengers fell into the water, which was so polluted that most of them became poisoned. And that's not all. Three years earlier, in 1873, the city had experienced a period of particularly deadly air pollution. It was smog.

A combination of fog, mist, and smoke from factories and coal fires resulted in cyclically deadly air pollution. It was smog, a mixture of fog, mist, and smoke from factories and coal fires in homes. Eight hundred people died in a matter of days. Witness accounts describe it as a multi-sensory experience. Of course, like any fog, it affected sounds.

And more so than other fogs, it blocked people's vision. You couldn't see a meter in front of you. It also affected people's sense of taste and smell. It had a slightly acrid taste to it, with a smell that some described as rotten eggs, or at least it left an aftertaste in their mouths, that's for sure.

And it was sticky. It's believed that the Victorians often wore black because they had to protect their clothes in one way or another; it was impossible to keep your clothes white or clean for long if you lived in London. The fog caused great chaos outside, but it also made its way into people's houses. In 1832, the wife of the Russian ambassador to London organized a huge ball, and she recounted that in the room where the ball was held, people were dancing and spinning as if they were up in the clouds. This was because you could no longer see people at the other end of the room; they were engulfed in mist and smoke that had infiltrated the space. The fog also produced many interesting lighting effects, which intrigued some of the top Impressionists, including Monet.

Particularly towards the end of the 19th century, between 1899 and 1901, he made three trips to London specifically to paint these lighting effects. There are also amusing letters he wrote to his wife in which he complains. He complains that there isn't any fog, especially on Sundays. He complains when there's too much fog because he can't see anything. But that's what made Monet's job so exciting, because that's what he wanted.

To paint the moment, to capture an instant of a particular light and a specific play of colors. Yet, that kind of moment is sometimes so fleeting that it's hard to capture. The London fog was quickly associated with issues of criminality. Tourist guides recommended that people traveling to London take great care because it was a city rife with crime, particularly at nightfall when the fog began to rise. This was especially true of the poorest and most dangerous part of London, which was the East End.

That's where, after 1888, the famous Jack the Ripper murders took place, particularly in the poorest and most dangerous part of London, which was the East End. This occurred in Whitechapel, not far from the Thames, where there was a natural mist. However, when the fog intensified, it indicated that the murders multiplied as well. December 1952.

The worst episode of air pollution in the history of London was a four-day smog that claimed over 10,000 lives. Parliament finally decided to legislate, and coal-fueled heating was banned.

London was finally taking measures against the smog, a century after the first deadly incidents had arisen. The first skyscraper in New York was neither a housing block nor a building, nor an office block. It was a bridge— a bridge whose pylons reached over 100 meters high.

For the first time, the Brooklyn Bridge established a link between Manhattan and the rest of the world. But for New York, it meant much more than that. Before the bridge, New York had no skyline. It was a city without grandeur, height, or viewpoints.

But gradually, as the bridge took shape, New Yorkers found themselves in a new dimension. If you lived in Brooklyn, or if you lived in New York City, you watched day by day as this stone structure was built in the middle of the river, and it grew bigger and bigger. Soon, it was larger than the tallest buildings in either city, and then it kept going. It became this oversized structure.

It seemed to dwarf the cities it connected. Bridge building was not a science at the time. Engineering was not the science we think of today; it was very imprecise and regarded as an obscure art.

There were people who said, "I know how to build bridges." Everyone else would respond, "Okay, well, I see you built one, and it stands, so you maybe know what you're doing." But nobody truly understood how they worked. New York was a city of engineers, and John Roebling was one of its first great representatives.

Born in Germany, he graduated from engineering school in Berlin. His passion was suspension bridges, and his idea involved steel cables. You take slender threads of steel and twist them into a rope. That’s what Roebling, the designer of the Brooklyn Bridge, does. His first contribution is not the bridge itself, but the notion of a cable made of twisted steel that is capable of supporting unimaginable amounts of weight.

And then you turn to the Gothic past, and you build these masonry towers with unimaginable amounts of waste. You create these structures without internal steel that incorporate the voids of the towers, focusing not on the solid parts but on the absence of material. They are carved into pointed Gothic archways that resemble a cathedral. What you are doing is nothing more than building a conduit for traffic. It would have been his life's masterpiece. However, John Roebling died from his injuries following an accident shortly after construction began.

It was his son, Washington Roebling, who took over the project. But the Brooklyn Bridge would eventually shatter his fate too. In order to lay the pylons, the Roeblings decided to use a brand new invention that had been tested in France. It was called a caisson. The idea was to sink a huge stone tower into the river and then blow compressed air.

Into a box, which would provide a space where workers could then dig. However, the pressure was much higher there than at the surface, and a fast ascent could be fatal. Many workers lost their lives due to the project, and even Washington Roebling himself emerged paralyzed. Music to the project, and even Washington Roebling himself emerged paralyzed. His wife, Emily, took over the project.

She was the first person to cross the bridge on the day it opened. New York had pushed back its borders. The city's population was 940,000 in 1870. By 1900, it was 3.4 million. This is how it became the first American megalopolis.

London, the biggest city in the world, was now within its grasp. Music at the end. The world of warfare has changed significantly. Four hundred years ago, a village by the name of Amsterdam began its mission to conquer the world, invented capitalism as we know it, and became the richest city on the European continent. There was a sense among the Dutch that whoever you were, you could have a piece of the action. You could be involved in the great economic activities of your society.

A hundred years later, London, its main rival, took its place. The greatest trading power in the world, London endured terrific hardships but went on to become the world's largest city and invent the megalopolis of tomorrow's world. When the railways crashed through the poorer areas of London, the people were simply dispersed. They were swept aside, you might say.

Meanwhile, New Amsterdam had now become New York. It was under British rule. The city broke free and joined France.

At the outposts of the technical revolution, New York became the vertical city and created a whole new horizon for itself. You watched day by day as this massive stone structure was built in the middle of the river, and it got bigger and bigger. The New York Times chronicled its growth, as it continued to expand. The term "grattiel" is intriguing because it refers to what the urban landscape of New York was; the city where the concept of urban silhouette, or skyline, was invented.

The urban landscape of New York was characterized by the spires of churches and the masts of ships. At the top of the ships was a small triangular sail, the highest on the boat, which was called the skyscraper. It was the sail that was closest to the sky. The City Hall was where New York's skyscraper saga first began. At the end of the 19th century, three major newspapers established their headquarters on either side.

The competition between them was fierce. The winner would be the one that went the highest. In 1876, the New York Tribune, with its 11 stories, became the tallest building in the world upon its construction.

In 1889, the Times Building to the right was immediately overtaken by the New York World Building and its golden dome. The former was 15 stories high, while the latter had 19 stories. While its two neighbors were built out of brick, the World Building was the first in New York to have a skeleton made entirely out of steel. From the front, we could climb about 15, maybe 18 floors.

With steel, there is no limit. The only limit is the capital available for construction. As the ascenders can be repeated and can climb up to the sky. Fifteen years later, in the same square that houses the city hall, the Woolworth Building took a step further: 241 meters, 57 stories.

It was Manhattan's first emblematic skyscraper. Not only because it was the highest tower in the city, which would remain so for 16 years, but also because its style and outline stood out from all those around it. This time, the building wasn't owned by a newspaper, but by one of the richest men of that era. Frank Woolworth was the owner of a chain of single-price shops named after himself, where everything was sold for 5, 10, or 15 cents.

And in America, at the start of the 20th century, that was a winning formula. According to Frank Woolworth, the skyscraper's construction was paid for by the little pieces of change accumulated from the everyday purchases of ordinary people. Upon its construction, the Woolworth Building acted as a fantastic publicity stunt for Frank Woolworth himself and his company. However, Woolworth and his architect, Cass Gilbert, had another stroke of genius: an homage to Gothic architecture, to European cathedrals. How is this upstart nation, how is this upstart city going to take its place on the international stage?

Well, it's going to do it by looking to the European past, to the masters, to the cathedrals, and to the great works of monumental architecture. When the Woolworth Building is completed in the early 20th century as the tallest building in the world, it resembles a Gothic cathedral. Upon entering the Woolworth Building, you feel as though you are walking into a kind of cathedral-like portal, which is quite monumental, and then into a lobby that evokes the atmosphere of a magnificent church, albeit in a scaled-down manner. Interestingly, the lobby has a cruciform shape.

Suddenly, you're in a church, and you recognize that you're in a church, standing in the nave. I mean, you get it. You get it. You get it. You get it.

You get it. You get it. You get it. The transept comes across. Okay, then you look at some of the decorative features, and you see things that look gargoyle-like.

But when you look at it closely, you realize that that's not a griffin or something; that's a person. Okay, who's the person? It's Woolworth. And what's he doing? He's counting nickels and dimes.

You look at another one of these gargoyle-like figures, and you see that it's the architect. He has memorialized himself. And what is he holding? He's holding the building. The period in which the Woolworth Building was constructed coincided with large waves of immigration into the United States, leading to the arrival of tens of thousands of European craftspeople.

They were the ones who created the mosaics and decorated the entrance hall. Here, the divinity of work is being worshipped. It is the goddess of trade welcoming visitors as they enter the skyscraper. The Woolworth Building was much like a church, but it was a church of the new world. It's not about the power of the king.

It's not about reaching up to the heavens for God. It's not about contemplation. It's about rentable space where people are doing really ordinary, boring jobs. And yet, it's a cathedral of commerce. I mean, that is the quintessential New York idea—a cathedral of commerce.

Like, it's an oxymoron. And yet, in the hands of a talented architect like Cass Gilbert, the Woolworth Building becomes absolutely seared in your brain as a memorable work of art. By the time the Woolworth Building opened its doors on the eve of the First World War, New York had found its new dimension. Skyscrapers began sprouting up across Manhattan, giving birth to a new concept, the skyline, the urban silhouette. This landscape soon spread around the world.

It was a demonstration of the city's newfound power and its global ambition. The empire on which the sun shone dominated vast territories across four different continents, thus becoming the empire on which the sun never sets. The West End, the neighborhood of aristocracy and the upper middle classes, began expanding significantly. However, the latest additions were not external. These London terrace houses had remained more or less the same since their initial construction in the 18th century.

But now their interiors were beginning to change. The growth of the terraced house in London coincides with the growth of consumption and individual families buying things. If you go back to the 17th century, people didn't have many things in their houses because there weren't many items available for purchase. However, by the Victorian period, the whole notion of shopping and buying furniture and decorative items for your house had exploded. The range of things you could get was absolutely enormous.

This was the first age in which a relatively average person could afford to live in a house that was decorated, containing apparent carvings and high-quality finishes, thanks to mass production. Colors were being invented through the development of new dyes, leading to much more vibrant spaces. Society was transitioning from a monochrome existence, shared by all except the very richest, to one where buildings featured ornate and colorful interiors. These little terraced houses are unique in that, while they are very anonymous from the outside, their interiors reflect this newfound richness.

Like an English person, they reveal nothing of their character. However, the moment you step inside, you find that the interiors are richly and individually furnished, a testament to the extraordinary explosion of shopping and consumption that gripped London in the 19th century. Such prosperity seemed to attract people and spark a growing interest.

And the population of London tripled between 1850 and 1900, reaching six million inhabitants by the turn of the 20th century. The richest city in the world was also rife with inequalities. The poorest people were concentrated in pockets of poverty. No part of the city was spared. It was a time of revolution.

It was in London that Karl Marx wrote Das Kapital. In 1886, the West End riots broke out. For three days, the violence spread through to the posh neighborhoods. It was at this point that a man named Charles Booth began his great project. To avoid future overcrowding, he thought it would be worth better understanding the population of London.

You have to imagine a typical Victorian businessman, an immensely successful shipowner. He came from Liverpool, which is Britain’s second-largest port. He utilized statistical analysis of trade flows, inventories, and prices. It was through the market, and it was very interesting. Through his ability with applied statistics, he made his fortune and built the Booth Shipping Line into the highly successful company it became. In the 1880s, Booth moved to London.

This time, he would use his mathematical skills to study the quality of life of the city's inhabitants. It was a huge undertaking, which he funded with his personal fortune. His teams of investigators went out with policemen, who were constantly patrolling the streets of London. There was no street that they did not patrol.

An investigator would take notes, house by house, regarding the condition of the property and the condition of the residence. In the back room, this data was tabulated and mapped cartographically, resulting in the celebrated images of London, color-coded in seven different shades to represent the social geography of wealth and poverty in the city. Booth's study, published in 1902, serves as a snapshot of a vast metropolis in turmoil. Yellow indicated the wealthy, red represented those living comfortably, orange denoted mixed-income households whose inhabitants, although poor, had a regular income, and dark blue signified areas where people faced chronic need.

And black for those Charles Booth deemed to be vicious and semi-criminal. Yes, it's true. There was a broad gradient between the east of London, London east of the Tower, and the West End of London. But as soon as you look at the maps, you understand that the social geography is much, much more complex. There were concentrations of deep poverty very close to the beautifully manicured lawns of the Bedford Estate.

And equally, in the East End of London, there were respectable middle-class families living in the midst of what was caricatured as the jungle of the East End. In his book, Charles Booth invented the concept of a poverty threshold, below which, he wrote, a third of Londoners were living. Ten percent of the population of London, he added, had no chance of escaping this fate. The central park had been finished, but around it, almost nothing else had yet been built. No houses and certainly no buildings.

This neighborhood, now one of the most luxurious in Manhattan, was once little more than abandoned lots. The city was a very small town. This is where the American economy's new millionaires were able to build their little castles, which were called mansions. For about 30 years, this part of the city became a playground for all kinds of eccentricities. There were no more than a dozen or so of these incredibly large mansions, but there were probably 50 to 75 very substantial large houses, mainly on Fifth Avenue, as well as on Park Avenue, and several hundred more smaller yet still substantial houses.

And so New Yorkers nicknamed Fifth Avenue "Millionaire's Row." The new residents were men from industries such as railways, steel, coal, oil, and finance. John Rockefeller, who would soon become the richest man in the world, bought a pre-built house located a stone's throw from Central Park. The interior evoked all styles, all eras, and all continents.

Andrew Kahn, who was a famous writer known as the "Prince of Steel," built his own mansion on a plot spanning half a hectare, which was a considerable size for Manhattan. His house is one of the only ones to have survived, alongside that of his business partner, the coal baron Henry Clay Frick. Frick spent the equivalent of about $2.8 million to purchase all of the lots, making it tremendously expensive.

And this is a time when there isn't a whole lot of other building on Upper Fifth Avenue yet. He spent even more—the equivalent of about $3 million—to construct this monstrously large palace to live in and to display his collection of art. It survived precisely because he designed the house to also serve as a museum after his death, and he made sure to leave enough money along with his collection to ensure its survival. Henry Frick's mansion is an exception, because as soon as World War I was over, these little palaces belonging to America's wealthiest individuals started to disappear one after the other. In their place, much taller buildings were constructed, which were incredibly luxurious but much more profitable and glamorous.

The first to be completed was the famous Dakota. These were palaces in the sky. You'd have a building of 12 or 15 stories that might only have eight or ten families living in it. The apartments were usually arranged on multiple stories, what in New York is called a duplex format. So you'd have an interior staircase within the apartment that sort of replicated the feel of living in a multi-story house.

In some cases, you might even get a three-story apartment. A developer would offer a huge sum of money to the owners of a mansion, which they would eventually sell, thus giving way to one of these large buildings. However, most of the time, the owners made extra demands, and some of those demands bent all the rules. There was a woman named Marjorie Hutton. She was the heiress of a breakfast cereal company from the Midwest, and she was married to an investment banker.

They had built a mansion for themselves on Fifth Avenue. One day, a developer came along and said, "We'd like to buy your house and put up a new building." She agreed on one condition: she wanted a custom-built apartment at the top of the new building. She was given an apartment that didn't precisely replicate the architecture of her house, but it was part of the new building.

And she was given an apartment that didn't precisely replicate the architecture of her house, but to a certain degree, it did. She had custom furnishings, rugs, woodwork, and other elements that were replicated in the new apartment. In addition, she was given her own separate port-cochère, complete with a private corridor that connected to her own private elevator, which took her straight up to the top of the building. There, she enjoyed three entire floors to herself in 30,000 square feet—the largest apartment, to my knowledge, that has ever been built in New York City, perhaps anywhere. Marjorie Hutton's apartment had 54 rooms and no less than 17 bathrooms, a record that's never been beaten in New York, even though several years later, another apartment surpassed it through sheer extravagance.

Built in the new, very chic Upper West Side neighborhood, it was owned by a man named William Randolph Hearst. He owned the leading media group in the United States and was a very original character, to say the least. He had a three-story, triple-height living room that was decorated like a Gothic church, with imported elements from Europe. Each room was decorated according to a different theme, again using imported architectural elements—such as a French bedroom and an Italian study. At that time, the American economy appeared to have no bounds, and World War I had accelerated the United States' rising power.

This neighborhood was the result of years of recklessness and excess, which was abruptly brought to an end by the Wall Street crash in 1929. The New York Times published an article about Letchworth, located about 50 kilometers to the north of the British capital. While New York was revolutionizing architecture, London was inventing the urban structure of the future. Letchworth is now a quaint suburb with around 35,000 inhabitants, but it was the product of a radical project.

The project was dreamed up by a man who saw the solution to the city's complex problems in nature. His name was Ebenezer Howard. He viewed the problem of poverty as a by-product of the city and its density. He wasn't interested in social or economic explanations; it was the city itself that created social struggle.

And discontent and unhappiness. Nature, the countryside, and a better balance between the peace of the countryside, the tranquility of nature, and the economic opportunities of the town could be achieved if you rebuilt the town in nature. This was his big idea: the garden city. This developed into what we call the Arts and Crafts Movement. The Arts and Crafts Movement looked to the vernacular cottages of the English countryside.

The half-timbered frontages, the long roofs with their eaves, the gable ends, and the open-plan interiors with inglenook fireplaces are truly wonderful. They exemplify the Arts and Crafts movement, echoing medieval building styles. This represented a return from the world of industrial production to the world of handicraft, embodying the imagined equilibrium or utopia of a medieval society where work would be local and people would create with their own hands. The garden city was built on former farmland, which, by its very nature, was worth practically nothing but was enhanced by the new settlers. At the center, they established administrative buildings, public services, and businesses.

Around these, they built the residential areas, then the industrial areas, then the farming fields. Everything was accessible via a star-shaped network of roads. But Howard saw beyond this and believed that the benefits derived from each garden city would be invested in creating new small towns dotted around London that operated on the same basis. The garden city would, therefore, have offered a counter-model to the megalopolis. Ultimately, this approach only worked once.

But Howard's invention immediately caught people's imagination and served as the foundation for creating a city from scratch. This was workers' housing of a very different kind, featuring a garden at the front, a garden at the back, and a street verge planted with cherry trees. Allotment gardens for residents to grow their own food were situated in a small town surrounded by an agricultural belt producing fresh food for the community, owned by the municipality and the people themselves. At that time, most residents in Letchworth worked within the Garden City.

Many of them were employed at the Spirella factory, the largest workplace in Letchworth, which was set up inside a very innovatively designed building. Here, most of the workers were women who manufactured what was considered quite provocative underwear for the early 20th century. Spirella saw itself as a model business, and its employees received far superior benefits compared to the average British worker. On the top floor of the factory, they had their own space where they engaged in various activities, including gymnastics, gatherings of all kinds, concerts, and dancing. Obviously, like all colonies, they had to attract settlers, and the colonists they attracted tended to be progressives.

They tended to be people who, like Ebenezer Howard, believed in social experiments. It is in Letchworth, in the Earth Garden City, that we see the first extensive experiments in wearing sandals, dress reform, vegetarianism, and sleeping outdoors at night. People had bedrooms with overhead gantries where their beds could be swung out so they could breathe in the fresh oxygen. The Letchworth phenomenon, a new city surrounded by nature, began to gain interest beyond England's borders. Paris, Brussels, Berlin, and even Tokyo each, in turn, tried to develop their own garden cities.

London, the first metropolis in history, had just invented its antidote. In the decades that followed, Ebenezer Howard would help transform cities around the world. By the early 1910s, there was indeed a new scale for the skyscraper, not just in terms of height, but also in lot coverage, girth, and the blockiness of buildings that contained an enormous amount of floor space. The best example of that is the Equitable Building at 164 meters tall, with 44 stories. Today, the Equitable Building is like other buildings in the Manhattan office area.

New York partially owes the way it looks today to this very building. What is remarkable about the Equitable Building, which has a plan shaped like an "H," is the density and speed of its elevators. It is gigantic— the machine to move people vertically. There are 48 lifts for 50,000 employees.

That, now in Manhattan, is quite ordinary. But when it opened in 1915, it was rather revolutionary. At that time, the neighboring buildings of the Equitable Life Assurance Society were considerably smaller. In the narrow streets of South Manhattan, its arrival was not well received. Depending on the time of day, an almost four-block area of lower-rise and older buildings had been cast into the shadow of this titanic structure, stealing their light and diminishing the value of the properties that were deprived of sunlight.

At that time, the bulbs for lights burned very hot, and they didn't really give off much light. So, light was a heat generator. Windows had to be opened to ventilate the space, making buildings much more dependent on natural sunlight and wind to create a habitable workspace. Therefore, Manhattan needed to find a way to build higher without upsetting neighboring buildings.

And it was George Burdett Ford who found the solution. His idea was city planning regulations, which were adopted in 1916. These were his instructions: First of all, vertically, you could build the equivalent of the width of the street or avenue bordering the building. Then, you draw a straight line from the middle of the road.

That way, you get a basic structure on which you can build, but with setbacks. Depending on the neighborhood, whether residential or commercial, the main façade would be positioned at various heights. One final feature was that on 25% of the plot, you could build as high as you wanted. This was the formula behind the Empire State Building and hundreds of other skyscrapers in Manhattan. Although this is purely a technical formula, it is primarily about preserving light and air.

One of the interesting aspects is that it quickly helps to shape a whole new style of architecture in the city—a kind of ziggurat style. These recessive mountain or cliff-like projections contribute to the very distinctive New York look, characterized by the zigzag design that embodies a jazz age quality. This design allows light and shadow to develop in right-angle spaces, creating a frenetic energy that is particularly striking in black and white photography, as well as in the shade and shadow of the city. Many of Manhattan's most famous buildings emerged as a result of the 1916 regulations. They all seem to belong to the same family, yet they each have their own unique characteristics, such as the stair-like shape of 120 Wall Street.

The New York Telephone Building and its unorganized silhouette, the American Radiator Building and its step-back roof, or even the Chrysler Building and its rocket-shaped roof—these were all constructed within a span of approximately 15 years. Meanwhile, America was experiencing a period of significant economic growth in the wake of the First World War.

Dozens of buildings were transforming Manhattan's urban skyline, making it instantly distinguishable from others. In the 1920s, the rise of the stock market and the rise of the skyscraper were companions; in fact, one might think of the graph of the rising stock market much like the rising profile of New York's skyline, with peaks and then valleys during times of recession because skyscrapers are always connected to markets. With the exception of the Woolworth Building, the number and height of skyscrapers in New York are closely linked to the growth of Wall Street—but with a slight delay. While the stock market was crashing in autumn 1936, the Kreisler Building was already under construction in 1929, and work was just about to begin on the Empire State Building.

It was the apotheosis of this era of great skyscrapers: 85 stories, the tallest, the biggest, and the fastest. The Empire State Building's construction technology was not particularly exceptional. The steel skeleton had been used for almost 20 years. It consisted of a kit of parts made up of steel beams and columns held together by rivets. Workers in teams of five constructed it with an enormous amount of effort and heroism, as seen in the photographs of the steelworkers and indeed all of the workers on the site.

But what was really extraordinary about the Empire State Building was, first, its scale, and then its speed of construction. The true genius of the Empire State Building was its construction management. In the world of skyscrapers, time is money. You borrow money in order to construct the building, so the shorter amount of time you have that money borrowed and the quicker you can turn it into rentable space, the more profitable the building will be.

The Empire State Building was built much faster than any skyscraper of its time—one story per day, on average, throughout the summer of 1930. The construction of the Empire State took little more than a year. However, when it opened, only a quarter of its offices had tenants. The buildings had arrived at the wrong time.

It would only become profitable twenty years later, long after the Second World War. The Blitz. The intensive bombing of London by the German Air Force. From September 7th, 1940, to the war, every night was a living hell.

London was an unmissable target for the Luftwaffe. It was a target 12 miles across. It is still, you must remember, the largest city in the world. It was bigger than Calcutta at the time. It was a vast target.

Since 1900, London had doubled in size. With its eight million inhabitants, it was a low-density megalopolis. That was its great strength in this horrific ordeal.

The intense period of the Blitz lasted for a relatively short time, between September 1940 and May 1941. During that period, there was bombing every night, with an average of 160 bombers coming over. The worst night saw 580 tonnes of high explosives dropped. A quarter of a million people were made homeless; their homes simply disappeared.

The psychological effect was enormous. Sirens sounded everywhere, and the entire population went down into the shelters. However, in this low-density city of 8 million people, the impact of Bollywood's influence was fairly localized. We can see areas of very dense bomb damage side by side with large areas of London where everyday life continued as normal.

In the first few weeks, London's docks in its industrial districts, as well as the city—its financial core—were targeted as a priority. However, over time, the megalopolis was affected as a whole. The Blitz killed 30,000 people and changed the face of Britain's capital forever.

What I think is so important about the history of London is its ability to renew itself physically. When we look at the Blitz, we are simply observing a reprise of what happened when the railways arrived and when the Great Fire occurred. It was an opportunity to start again, to revitalize the commercial, economic, and financial infrastructure of the city. At the end of the war, the city was but a shadow of its former self; it had to write itself a new story.

It's well known what happened next. The city caught a second wind when Margaret Thatcher deregulated the financial markets. This decision greatly boosted not only activity but also the planning of the old City of London, the original core around which the English capital had begun expanding in the 17th century. The medieval city, which had become an increasingly specialized business hub, is where the metamorphosis was accomplished.

I became the city planning officer in 1985 as the government was announcing the deregulation of financial services. This meant that the City of London was going to be opened up to competition and that banks from all over the world would be able to trade in London. We now needed to incorporate computer-operated trading on large dealing floors in each of the banks' buildings. That required a very different type of building. Therefore, a decision was made that the city would have to go tall and build skyscrapers.

The city needed to grow vertically because it could no longer expand in any other way. The influx of financial markets was now growing beyond the city's limits, so London's old docks began to change in appearance. The disused docks were converted into a business hub. They were the pride of London in the 19th century. Abandoned after the Second World War, they had now found a new purpose.

But the very concept of skyscrapers actually reached beyond the city of London's borders for the first time too. The Shard, 241 meters high, contains offices as well as luxury apartments. It's a new urban trend, one that started in New York, where it is currently transforming the city. The New York City of course, since the 1930s, has been known for its symbolic buildings, and hundreds of glass structures have been erected in Manhattan. However, none of them have led us to forget the great stars of its urban skyline.

They will always remain iconic New York buildings, objects that form an interesting part of its identity. In the future, however, there may be serious challenges. A whole new kind of skyscraper is emerging. They are called the supertalls: 425 meters, 88 stories high.

This one is currently the tallest skyscraper in New York, and it's a luxury residential tower. The spires are curious yet exquisite objects whose origin dates back over a century ago to when Cornelius Vanderbilt, the American railway king, decided to build Grand Central Terminal, the terminus for his railway lines. Building services, Keto, please report to a Taste of the Yard for a smell.

Grand Central is, above all, a great achievement in architecture. The concept is to create a new neighborhood above the railroad tracks, simply because the foundations of the buildings are constructed through the tracks. The ground is reached through the tracks, allowing buildings to rise on artificial ground. As a result, developers in all the big cities around the world now use this method; however, in New York, the concept of air rights developed into something unique. Take the famous St. Patrick's Cathedral on Fifth Avenue, for example.

Since it had no intention of giving way to a skyscraper, it sold a property developer its air rights. In other words, the space above it, which it owned. In exchange for the air space, it received a small fortune. The same principle applies to all buildings that fall below the authorized limit in their district. They can choose not to build on the extra space they are entitled to and sell it to a developer who can build above the authorized limit elsewhere.

When you sell the air rights, you’re selling that unbuilt space to a new developer who can then approach the city and say, “I bought 20 stories.” The developer can then add that volume to the volume they are already allowed to build. So, if they are permitted to build a 30 or 40-story building and they purchase 20 stories from surrounding properties, they can now legally build 60 stories. This concept has now been applied to much larger skyscrapers.

There are customers keen for this new type of tower, and technology has made huge progress. Engineering today enables you to build incredibly tall structures on a very small plot of land. For instance, you can purchase a plot of land that measures 75 feet by 100 feet and construct a remarkably tall building. There's really no limit; you could potentially build half a mile high.

The first super tall tower was designed by Christian de Port-Sainte-Claire, a French architect. His apartments are the most expensive ever to be sold in Manhattan. Views have value, and this is the trophy of the New York apartment: to walk out of the elevator into a domain that belongs to you and you alone, to see this commanding view of the horizon stretching in all dimensions. There is no greater expression of power and possession than a view of Central Park, an exclusive, singular place, even though its singularity is repeated 80 times in the sky, until you reach the penthouse with all the floors underneath.

The 157 was reported at just over $100 million. There are others that have sold for $87 million, $90 million—almost inconceivable amounts. These new buildings will remain a simple curiosity unless they're multiplied in the years to come, revolutionizing New York's urban skyline. A once fairly uniform landscape is giving way to an irregular and chaotic horizon, as an expression of the new financial world behind skyscrapers in Manhattan. Some of that market demand comes from people who have generated enormous fortunes in countries with uncertain futures.

So, you have people with a lot of money from Russia, the Middle East, and Asian economies, where there are some very, very wealthy individuals. They want to invest in New York City real estate, essentially using those buildings as a place to park their money. In New York, an era is coming to an end. Soon, the kings of Manhattan will no longer be office buildings but residential skyscrapers, whose apartments are often second homes. Fortunes from around the world will dominate the skyline.

It's a strange reverse situation for this city, whose main aim has always been to conquer the world. The world is a world of power. Thank you. Transcription by CastingWords.