Chapter XVIII: Introduction (3)

Thirdly, there are in the library of the Royal Institute of British Architects a large number of miscellaneous drawings, also mostly by Webb, but also including a few by Jones. The most important of these are the series of designs utilised by Kent in his “Designs of Inigo Jones,” and the drawings for the Charles II. block at Greenwich Hospital. Practically all these are by Webb.

These drawings were unknown to the public until Kent published the “Designs” in 1727. His two volumes comprise, as already mentioned, the designs of Whitehall Palace, and a series of houses, large and small. It was not until they were published that the public generally knew anything about them, and it was accordingly not till then that they affected architectural design. Walpole makes this quite clear: “It was in this reign,” he says--that of George II.--“that architecture resumed all her rights. Noble publications of Palladio, Jones, and the antique recalled her to true principles and correct taste; she found men of genius to execute her rules, and patrons to countenance their labours.”[35]

But apart from their effect upon the public, the insight which these drawings give into the inner working of the designers’ minds is of great interest. Besides the finished drawings there are innumerable sketches for plans, elevations, and details, as well as many scraps copied from Italian books on architecture, notably from Serlio. Comparing these and Jones’s own sketches with similar memoranda and sketches by Italian architects of the period, it is curious to find how thoroughly he adopted their particular methods of work, and after him Webb likewise. Everything is classic in style, all the proportions are carefully worked out. The lengths and heights of buildings are not the result of caprice, or chance, or even primarily of convenience, but of systems of proportion. So also in the plans: these are largely adaptations of Italian models, not only in their formality and symmetry, but also in the disposition of the rooms. There is nothing haphazard, fortuitous, or rambling about them: they are the result of carefully considered proportion. Every house was complete in itself, and to be altered or enlarged afterwards was to be spoilt.

This sort of precision had a natural tendency to become mechanical, and in later years, notably in the early part of the eighteenth century, the tendency asserted itself strongly. But it is interesting to find that the foibles of Campbell, Gibbs, and their contemporaries had their justification in the work of Jones and Webb.

It was more particularly Webb who founded himself so carefully on definite proportions. Jones had a natural instinct for good proportion. His studies of the human figure and of drapery, his construction of scenery for masques, gave him freedom of touch and sureness in achieving the result at which he aimed not to be found in Webb. Jones’s youth had been passed in that atmosphere of freedom and joyous fancy in house design which was characteristic of Elizabethan days. The intelligent ignorance with which Italian detail was treated he set himself to correct; but he did not altogether crush out its light-heartedness. His own work, although purer and more severe than that of his predecessors, retained something of their freedom.

From the Burlington-Devonshire Collection at the R.I.B.A.]

The same, but in a less degree, may be said of Webb. Immersed though he seems to have been in his endeavours to saturate himself with the true rules of proportion, when he came to put his ideas into execution, he showed a pretty play of natural fancy, and much of his detail has a freshness and individuality sadly lacking in the work of fifty years later.

Apart entirely from the question as to the authorship of the Inigo Jones drawings, the ideas embodied in them are of the first importance. For the purpose of grasping these, the second volume of Kent’s “Designs of Inigo Jones” will answer almost as well as the originals. Comparing them with Elizabethan or Jacobean houses, a complete change will be seen to have taken place, both in the plans and the elevations (Fig. 44). There is no resemblance to the older manner. The time-honoured arrangement which placed the great hall centrally between the family wing and the servants’ wing has been superseded by one which places the kitchens in a basement, devotes the ground floor to the principal living-rooms, abolishes the great hall as a living-room, and substitutes for it a central saloon of great height, which not infrequently reaches from the ground floor to the roof. The orderly straggling of the ancient plan has given way to a trim compactness in the new. The plan, of course, controls the elevation, which is more precise and far less picturesque than of old. There are few, if any, gables; the chimneys are solid and staid; the windows consist each of one large opening, instead of being a group of small lights formed by mullions and transoms. It does not need an examination of the elaborate proportions tabulated by Webb on many of the original drawings to realise that here the old instinctive and even haphazard methods have been superseded by a system of carefully calculated design. The change is apparent at a glance, and one feels at once that the source of inspiration is not English but Italian. Very few of these designs appear to have been actually carried out, but they had a considerable influence on domestic architecture after their publication. They include practically none of the houses attributed to Jones or Webb which still exist.

John Webb has hardly received his due as an architect, either from his contemporaries or from posterity. Evelyn spoke of him as “Inigo Jones’s man.” Most modern writers have regarded him as merely a pale shadow of his master. But from what has just been said about his share in the “Inigo Jones” drawings, this estimate of his position ought to be revised, for there can be no doubt that he was the actual draughtsman of the designs for the palace at Whitehall; of nearly all those in the second volume of Kent inscribed “Inigo Jones, architectus”; and of King Charles’s block at Greenwich (Fig. 45). It may be said, indeed it has been said, that even if that be so, he was only carrying out ideas which had been already devised in the rough by the older man. To which the reply is that there is no evidence of this among the drawings themselves, and that the evidence of contemporary documents, preserved among the State Papers, confirms the presumption that Webb was the designer of the Whitehall Palace and of the Greenwich block. With regard to the series of house designs in Kent’s second volume, no extraneous evidence is likely to be found, for they can only be regarded as exercises in design; to transfer these works from Jones’s account to Webb’s is to do no injustice to the former’s reputation, it is rather to enhance it. It relieves a first-rate artist from the weight of work which is not quite first-rate: and the same may be said, as already pointed out, of the Whitehall drawings. With regard to the Greenwich design, it has, with justice, been highly extolled; but this is the less surprising when it is remembered that it is a clever adaptation of an excellent Italian design to be found in the pages of Palladio.[36]

Webb’s drawings of the Greenwich designs are fairly numerous, and they include a plan for a complete scheme, as well as plans, elevations and many details of King Charles’s block. They are dated 1663, 1665, 1666, and one 1669–70. It is interesting, therefore, to find in the Audit Office Enrolments[37] a warrant dated “the 21st day of November 1666,” and directed “To Our Trusty and Wellbeloved John Webb, of Butleigh, in Our County of Somerset, Esq^{re},” which begins thus: “Charles R. Trusty and wellbeloved, wee greet you well. Whereas wee have thought fit to employ you for the erecting and building of Our palace at Greenwich, Wee doe hereby require and authorize you to execute, act, and proceed there, according to your best skill and judgment in Architecture, as our Surveyor Assistant unto S^{r.} John Denham, K^{nt.} of the Bath, Surveyor General of Our Works, with the same power of executing, acting, proceeding therein, and graunting of Warrants for stones to be had from Portland, to all intents and purposes, as the said Sir John Denham have or might have....” The salary is to be £200 per annum with travelling charges. This appointment, together with Webb’s drawings and the absence of any preliminary drawings or sketches by Jones, seems to establish Webb as the actual designer.

It is not at all probable that Webb destroyed any sketches that might have been in existence, with a view to his own reputation. For he preserved several slight sketches by Jones, and whereas he nowhere publicly pushes himself, he was extremely jealous of Jones’s fame, as appears on page after page of his “Vindication of Stone-Heng Restored.” Indeed, he subordinates himself completely to his old master, and posterity appears to have taken him at his own valuation.

He must have been, nevertheless, a very clever man, an apt pupil, and a most painstaking student, judging by the voluminous notes as to proportions, and so forth, which he wrote on his drawings. He went to Jones in 1628 at the age of seventeen; and according to the brief attached to his petition, already mentioned, “he was brought up by his Unckle Mr. Inigo Jones upon his late Maiestyes command in the study of Architecture, as well that w^{ch} relates to building as for masques Tryumphs and the like.” It will be remembered that Mr. John Denham, as he then was in the year 1660, had been granted the post of surveyor of the king’s works, although he had received no suitable training; the brief concludes with the following apt remarks: “That Mr. Denham may possibly, as most gentry in England at this day have some knowledge in the Theory of Architecture; but nothing of ye practique soe that he must of necessity have another at his Mai^{ties} charge to doe his business; whereas Mr. Webb himself designes, orders, and directs, whatever given in command w^{th} out any other man’s assistance. His Mai^{tie} may please to grant some other place more proper for Mr. Denham’s abilityes and confirme unto Mr. Webb the Surveyors place wherein he hath consumed 30 years study, there being scarce any of the greate Nobility or eminent gentry of England but he hath done service for in matter of building, ordering of meddalls, statues and the like.”

From the original Drawing in the Library of the R.I.B.A.]

North-East View. North Front.

FIG. 46.--THORPE HALL, NEAR PETERBOROUGH, 1656.

From Engraving by Hakewill, 1852.]

The common sense of this contention, although not flattering to Mr Denham, was vindicated by the appointment of Webb as assistant surveyor at Greenwich. But the petition and brief are interesting in other ways. They assert that Charles I. expressly caused Webb to be trained in architecture and the preparation of masques, in order to succeed Inigo Jones and carry on his work. They confirm roughly the date of his apprenticeship: and the brief states that he had worked for most of the great nobility and eminent gentry, thereby showing that he was a man of large independent practice, and not merely “Inigo Jones’s man”--a conclusion to which his drawings had already led.

The fact that Webb was actually trained in the preparation of masques as well as in architecture has hitherto escaped notice, but recent researches show that he made drawings for the scenery of some of those devised by Inigo Jones, particularly in the case of the pastoral of “Florimene” in 1635, and D’Avenant’s “Salmacida Spolia” in 1640. A year or two after the death of Jones, namely in 1656, D’Avenant again sought Webb’s help, and got him to design the scenery for his “Siege of Rhodes,” the first opera produced in England. Webb’s drawings for this work are preserved at Chatsworth.[38]

The illustrations in the second volume of Kent’s “Designs of Inigo Jones,” give a good idea not only of Webb’s powers as a designer, but also of the kind of house which was becoming fashionable. But it is worth while to supplement them by others which were actually carried out.

The best known of the houses attributed to Webb is Thorpe Hall, near Peterborough (Fig. 46). It was built for Oliver St John, Lord Chief Justice of Common Pleas, and a kinsman of Oliver Cromwell,[39] about the year 1656, which date is on the stables. It is a fine massive house of oblong shape, and, like Coleshill, it is without wings, gables, or dominating pediments; the detail is large and simple, the principal effect being gained by a widely projecting cornice at the eaves. The roof is hipped at the four corners, and its slopes are broken by dormers. The windows are carefully spaced, the angles of the building are emphasised with bold quoins, there is an open columned porch in the middle of each of the two principal fronts, and on one of the short fronts there are two square bay-windows. These are the means adopted to give interest to the design, and slight as they are, they achieve their purpose. A plinth, and a bold string over the ground floor windows help the general proportions, and a little liveliness is imparted by the introduction of pediments over some of the windows. The whole effect is refined and severe, widely different from the picturesque variety of Elizabethan work. The open porches are probably the first examples of their kind to be found in England. The bay-windows, it must be confessed, are poor and meagre; they would not be out of place in a suburban villa; they are a disappointing substitute for the noble bays of earlier times. They appear to be original, but they may derive some of their character from the restoration which the house underwent in the middle of last century. The chimneys are well designed, massive features, of the somewhat plain type which was supplanting the more varied and ingenious designs of fifty years before.

Henry Tanner _del._]

The plan of the house, as given by Hakewill (Fig. 47), is of the modern order, although faintly reminiscent of the ancient arrangement in respect of the hall, which is approached from the entrance passage through a screen. The ground floor, containing the hall, library, and dining-room, is raised well above the ground, and the servants’ quarters are in the basement. Subsequent to the making of Hakewill’s plan, certain alterations were made which did away with the necessity of passing through one room to get to the next, but they did not affect the main dispositions.

Much of the detail inside is quite charming, especially the ceilings, the panelling of the dining-room and the staircase. The sober yet fanciful treatment of the dining-room is delightful (Fig. 48) and strongly resembles that of some of Webb’s designs at Worcester College. Indeed the detail throughout abounds in touches such as are to be found in his drawings, and it has a freedom from pedantry which is quite refreshing, and may be regarded as a legacy from his less learned predecessors. The staircase has a carved and pierced floral balustrade of a type which had a considerable vogue in England during the second half of the seventeenth century (Fig. 49). The carving is particularly vigorous, especially in the newels and the great scroll at the foot of the stairs. The carved work is in lime, while the framework is in oak, but time has coloured the whole to one tone. The newels are crowned with fanciful vases full of flowers, another feature characteristic of the period. Some of the doors have panels over them, filled with painted landscapes, one of the earliest instances of a method of treatment that became very general in later years. The fireplaces, with one or two exceptions, are not fine examples of their kind.

The lay out is quite formal. The house stands in the midst of a large oblong enclosure, some 700 ft. long by 350 ft. wide, containing between five and six acres. The stables and garden houses occupy part of this space, the remainder being devoted to a forecourt and gardens. The enclosing wall is pierced with gateways of which the piers are of varied and interesting design (Fig. 50). The stables themselves are less formal and more picturesque than the house, but the same strong and masterful treatment prevails throughout (Fig. 51). As within the house so without, the detail has more individuality than was possible in later times when the continued study of Italian models appears to have made designers too fearful of committing solecisms to allow them to give free play to their fancy.

The attribution of Thorpe Hall to Webb rests on tradition and the character of the work. His connection with another Northamptonshire house, Lamport Hall, is vouched for by Bridges, the county historian, who says (writing in the early years of the eighteenth century): “Sir Justinian Isham ... hath here a very elegant seat; part of which is old, and part new built in his father’s time, by John Webb, son-in-law to Inigo Jones. He hath several drawings of mouldings, architraves, and freezes, made in the years 1654 and 1655, with some letters from Mr. Webb dated in 1657, relating to the gate, and pilasters, and the execution of an intended depository.” Owing to alterations which have been made from time to time, there is little of the original work left except the front (Fig. 52), which exhibits the simple, dignified yet interesting treatment characteristic of Webb’s manner. Here the whole of the architectural detail is in stone, there are two principal stories which stand on a windowed basement; there are no strings nor cornices between the basement and the main cornice which crowns the walls; above this is a parapet which seems to have been altered from its original design. The wall space is occupied by windows carefully proportioned, and in the centre of the façade is a slight projection according to Webb’s custom. The angles of the building are emphasised with quoins. The whole design is simple in the extreme, but its excellent proportions give it dignity and charm.

Illustration: FIG. 53.--RAMSBURY MANOR, WILTSHIRE.]

It must surely have been the old house to which the epithet “vile” was applied by the charming Dorothy Osborne in one of her letters to her future husband, Sir William Temple. The elder Sir Justinian, forty-two years old and a widower, was a persistent but unwelcome suitor of Dorothy’s, just about the time when he altered his house. He was esteemed, according to a biographer, one of the most accomplished persons of the time, and, doubtless, it was in that capacity that he employed the hardly less accomplished Webb. But Dorothy put a different reading on his character, and considered him a self-conceited, learned coxcomb. Her letter, wherein she speaks of “a vile house he has in Northamptonshire,” is assigned to January 1653, so it is just possible that during the course of his wooing she may have indicated her opinion of his home, and thus have been an unintentional agent in its improvement.

Ramsbury, in Wiltshire, is another house attributed to Webb,[40] but no date is given in connection with it. Its admirable proportion and simplicity of detail ally it with other work of his (Fig. 53). Like Thorpe Hall it is a simple oblong in plan, but the front and side are broken by slight projections which give the opportunity of breaking the roof with pediments as well as with the customary dormers. The effect depends primarily upon the spacing of the windows, the extent of roof in relation to the walls, and the bold cornice at the eaves. The detail is refined, and a welcome change from uniformity of treatment is afforded by the introduction of twin doorways in the middle of the shorter front. The ground floor is kept up above the ground, as was customary with Webb, and the servants are placed in the basement. The drawbacks of this disposition are less than would appear from the front view, as the ground at the other end is so much lower that the basement floor is on the same level with it, and there is easy access from the kitchen department to the outbuildings which are grouped some distance away on the lower level.

The detail inside is not of striking interest; much of it looks rather later than Webb’s time, especially the ceiling (Fig. 54); but the way in which the cupola, which is almost buried between the roofs, is made to light the attic landing, and, by means of a ceiling light, the landing also of the floor below, is quite ingenious, and incidentally produces a charming feature in the ceiling of the principal landing.

These are some among the houses that are attributed to Webb. Ashdown House (Fig. 55) is another, a rather gaunt place, built high on the downs in the extreme west of Berkshire, far away from everywhere, so that the builder, it is said, might run no risk of infection from the plague. Taken in conjunction with his dated drawings--such as ceilings at Wilton in 1649; designs for Durham House, London, in the same year; the Physicians’ College in 1651; a chimney-piece for Drayton in Northamptonshire in 1653; and another for Northumberland House in 1660--they show that Webb was tolerably busy all through the time of the Commonwealth. But it is probably the fact, confirmed by the absence of dated drawings between 1638 and 1649, that he was not doing much work, beyond the Whitehall designs, during the course of the actual hostilities. This is only what might be expected, and indeed it is likely that beyond what Webb did, there was very little important work carried out during the period of twenty years from 1640 to 1660.

The consideration of Inigo Jones’s work and that of Webb has taken the story down to about 1670; it is necessary now to go back a little in order to look at work by less distinguished designers.

V

THE TRANSITION IN MINOR BUILDINGS AND INTERIORS

There are numberless buildings in all parts of the country which show in their external treatment how gradual was the supersession of the old style by the new and more correct treatment, and how limited in range was the influence of even so eminent an architect as Inigo Jones. Indeed, throughout the seventeenth century it would appear that architectural design followed two paths; one was that trodden by trained architects who aimed at correctitude; the other was that taken by less learned designers, whether architects or (as of old) masons and artificers, who had not mastered the niceties of classic design, and therefore mixed ancient methods with such of the new as they could compass. The mullioned window was one of the old features to which they long held fast. The new idea of large window openings such as prevailed in the Banqueting House they seem to have disliked. Their reluctance had, no doubt, a constructional basis, for the narrow lights of a mullioned window are easily bridged, whereas a wide opening requires either a deeper head to carry the weight above it, or else an arch. The introduction of an arch or a deep head involved a more serious departure from ancient ways, and a more complete committal to new design than the ordinary man could face. He did not mind pilasters, and he did not mind a heavy cornice, and consequently there are plenty of instances in which the old mullioned windows are accompanied by the more stiff and straight arrangement which a heavy cornice involves. Such an instance is to be seen in the free school at Warminster, founded as late as 1707 (Fig. 57).

Another feature to which designers clung was the gable. This, of course, had been from time immemorial a dominant feature of English houses; it was the simplest and most natural way of closing the end of a roof, and as roofs were nearly always of a steep pitch, so, too, were the gables. But there was no place in classic architecture for steep gables, nor indeed for gables of any kind; the nearest approach to them was the pediment. It was only by a determined effort that the English architect could get rid of gables, and this effort was too much for any but the most resolute to make. Gables survived even longer than mullioned windows, and as our climate, with its rain and snow, is better encountered by steep roofs than by flat, the roofs continued to be steep.

An interesting example of the mixture of mullioned windows, gables, and classic details is to be found in the Pepysian Library at Magdalene College, Cambridge (Fig. 56). The precise date of this building is not known. In many of the colleges accounts have survived from which may be gathered the date, the cost, and even the names of the designers of the various buildings which make both Cambridge and Oxford so extremely interesting to architects. But unluckily in this instance there are no accounts left, and it is only inferentially and vaguely that a date can be suggested. Subscriptions for a new building were being asked for in 1640,[41] and again in 1679, and the building was apparently finished, or nearly so, in 1703 when Pepys made his will, by which he left his library (after his nephew’s death) either to Trinity College or Magdalene, but preferably to the latter, in which case it was to be in the “New Building,” where, in fact, it was eventually placed.

It would appear from the plan, and also from the external treatment, that the design was made when the project first started in 1640; but if Professor Willis’s suggestion be accepted that the Civil War interrupted the scheme and that, in view of the change in taste, a fresh design was adopted on the resumption of effort in Charles II.’s time, the survival of the old method’s becomes still more striking. But a close examination of the work strengthens the supposition that the front was designed as a whole when the project was started in 1640; and that the pediments and cornices over the windows, together with the carving, were inserted at the close of the century. The later mouldings are larger and bolder in scale than the earlier.

When it is remembered that in 1640 John Webb was drawing none but classic buildings, and that by 1679 St Paul’s Cathedral was already rising above the ground, and that it was designed on fully developed classic lines, the significance of the mixed taste in this building at Magdalene College will be the more readily appreciated. But it must be borne in mind that Webb and Sir Christopher Wren were members of a learned confraternity, while the unknown designer at Magdalene had evidently not had the same opportunities as they enjoyed for acquiring familiarity with classic detail.

Stanway House, in Gloucestershire, belongs in its general treatment to the Jacobean period, but there are numerous late touches about it; among them are the front door and the window above it (Fig. 58). The latter appears to be a later insertion, but the doorway is probably original, as it agrees in its general character with the arch of the fine gate-house, which is contemporary with the mullioned windows by which it is encompassed. It was quite a usual custom to adhere to the old ways in the general design of a house, but to treat some special feature, such as a doorway, in the more modern and correct fashion. This is easily intelligible when it is remembered that the books on classic architecture confined themselves largely to details, and dealt but sparingly with the designs of entire buildings. At this time, that is about 1637, there was probably no one who gave himself up entirely to the pursuit of consistent purity of detail, except Jones and his pupil Webb.

At Astwell, in Northamptonshire, there are the remains of some gates dated 1638 which were fitted into an old Gothic opening (Fig. 59). They have traceried heads of a sort, in imitation of mediæval work, but the mouldings are allied more nearly to the ordinary work of the time, and the whole is an interesting example of the mixture of old and new ideas.

Swakeleys, near Uxbridge, which carries its date, 1638, on some of its rain-water heads, is a good example of late Jacobean work, in which the old treatment is more apparent than the new (Fig. 60). It has mullioned windows and many gables, but the flat pediments which crown the latter are evidence of its having been built towards the close of the Jacobean period. The actual roofs behind the gables are quite steep and are so complicated that some difficulty was found in getting rid of the rain water. Part of it is taken in a trough in the thickness of the attic floor; and in order to lessen the number of down-pipes, much of it is collected into lead troughs which are carried along the inside of the attic walls to the few pipes which are provided. The result of these arrangements is that every heavy storm or fall of snow entails an inspection by the plumber in order to prevent the accumulation of debris and the risk of spoiled ceilings and walls. The whole of the cornices and pediments are worked in cement, and not, as might be supposed, in stone.

From the Worcester College Collection.]

If this house is compared with Webb’s drawing of a proposed new wing at Somerset House (Fig. 61), made in the same year, 1638, the difference becomes strikingly apparent between the style of the ordinary designer and that of the learned student; and yet Swakeleys was less than twenty miles from London, where the new methods were being sedulously cultivated.

Perhaps the most remarkable attempt to weld Jacobean and classic design into one consistent whole is to be found in the charming chapel attached to Burford Priory, in Oxfordshire (Fig. 62). There is much more here than a mixture of separate features, some in one style, and some in the other. The general treatment is reminiscent of Jacobean. There is a lofty story crowned with a cornice and an attic above it. There are shafts at the angles round which the cornice breaks, and they are terminated at the top with obelisks as pinnacles; there are also curved gables. But the shafts are fashioned into classic pilasters; the cornice not only breaks round them, but jumps up to make way for a door. The traceried windows have a novel disposition of curves, and the rose window is not a mere travesty of ancient methods, but has a vigorous individuality of its own, and is set in a classic framework. The whole work is consistent throughout, and the detail is refined and carefully handled. It is the successful attempt of a clever designer to solve old problems in new ways, and it is a pity that neither his name nor any other work from his hand is known. The chapel, as well as the house to which it is attached, was built by Speaker Lenthall, subsequent to his acquiring the property in 1634.

Side of Chapel. End of Chapel.

FIG. 63.--BRASENOSE COLLEGE, OXFORD, 1656–66.]

The chapel and library of Brasenose College, Oxford, have escaped the full amount of attention which they deserve, probably because they lie outside the range of books dealing with the accepted division of architecture into Gothic and classic. But for that very reason they are of interest to the present inquiry. The detail on the whole is more classic than Gothic, but it is dealt with in a manner reminiscent of Gothic; the cornices break forward over the pilasters, and round the slight projections caused by the advancing of alternate windows; the windows have Gothic tracery; pilasters are used in the place of buttresses (Fig. 63). Indeed the general design is Gothic in its arrangement, but classic detail has been applied to it, which in its turn has modified the Gothic handling. The whole effect is interesting. The designer has not merely made a Gothic design carrying it out with classic detail, nor has he made a classic design, giving his windows Gothic tracery. But each style has influenced the other. The Gothic treatment has modified the classic detail, the classic detail has modified the Gothic treatment The detail itself is quite refined, it is not the work of an ignorant man; the ornament is judiciously introduced, and applied with knowledge and skill. The oriel window on the external front (Fig. 64) adjoining the east end of the chapel is a charming piece of design, and the work generally is so well done that it has been attributed to Sir Christopher Wren; but although the attribution is erroneous it shows that popular opinion held the building worthy of being coupled with a great name. It would appear that a Mr. John Jackson superintended the building operations, and as he made a model for the chapel roof,[42] he may fairly be credited with the whole design. The first stone of the chapel was laid on the 18th June 1656, and the work was practically finished by 1666, in which year, on the 17th November, the dedication took place.

The old house in Southgate, Gloucester (Fig. 65), until recently the City Tea Warehouse, is a curious mixture of the old and new styles. According to the date on a chimney-piece it was built in 1650. The projecting stories, the panels and brackets below the windows of the top floor, and, indeed, the general treatment of the whole front, belong to the order of things that was passing away. The wide windows with their pediments, some straight and some curved, and the stiff floral pendents are indicative of the new style then coming into vogue. If the sash-windows were adopted from the outset, they would be a still more decidedly modern note. But if, as in all probability was the case, they merely replace the original mullions the native aspect of the front would have been less classic.

Another type of the quaint mixture of the old and the new is to be seen at Ipswich in the well-known Sparrow’s house, and in the less ornate example shown in Fig. 66. Here the ancient practice of overhanging the upper stories is utilised to obtain the strong horizontal lines which are characteristic of the classic style; but instead of the walls being full of windows, their blank spaces are larger in extent than the windows, and they are panelled in a simple fashion. Above the bold cornice spring three sharply pointed gables, which give an old-fashioned appearance to the house. The original windows are mullioned, but some of them (and probably all at first were alike) have an arched central light of double the width of the others. No doubt this treatment was introduced in order to vary the monotony of a series of windows composed entirely of small rectangular openings. It was very generally adopted, but the curved side lights are a variation not often found; the more frequent form is that employed in the picturesque Grammar School at Oxford (Fig. 67) which was built in the year 1658 for the education of freemen’s sons, on the foundation of Alderman John Nixon. The steep gables appear to be later additions, the original arrangement was the flatter and more carefully devised gable over the middle window. The arcade on the ground floor is quite Jacobean in feeling.

At Saffron Walden, in Essex, there is a row of houses of ancient aspect, with projecting corbelled gables. One of them is dated 1676, which probably gives the period when the modelled plasterwork was applied to an existing front, for some of the woodwork is Gothic in character. They are interesting examples of the ornamental plasterwork which at one time abounded in the eastern counties (Figs. 68 and 69).

The red brick inn at Scole, in Norfolk (Fig. 72), is another example of the mixture of classic cornices and quasi-pilasters with curved gables, and it gives a good idea of how local designers strove to modernise their buildings and were yet unable to shake off the old fetters which bound them to the traditions of their youth. There used to be, stretching across the road, a very substantial and picturesque sign attached to this inn, a wonderful piece of allegorical design.[43] It was dated 1655, which may be taken as the date of the building itself.

Another good example of the transitional stage between Jacobean work and classic is the school at Witney, in Oxfordshire (Fig. 70). The wings are still part of the main structure; the windows are mullioned, but the larger ones have an oval light in the uppermost compartment; the chimneys have square detached shafts set angle ways on their base. All these are features of the earlier type. On the other hand, the absence of gables, the widely projecting coved eaves, and small detached dormers are characteristic of the new methods of design. The date of the building, as stated on the panel over the principal door, is 1660.

Of such houses as the farmhouse at Stanton Harcourt, in Oxfordshire (Fig. 71), there are plenty of examples to be found. Here the mullioned windows are still retained; but the absence of gables, the straight front, the marked cornice at the eaves, the hood over the door, and the plain, severe outline are all in keeping with the more pronounced classic treatment which was being gradually adopted, even in remote places, by the end of the seventeenth century.

Such are some of the smaller houses built during the years in which Inigo Jones and Webb were working; links between the Jacobean style and that purer version of Italian to which those eminent men devoted themselves.

It has been shown how the general character of houses had changed during the period between the accession of Charles I. and the Restoration in regard to their arrangement and appearance; it will be well now to show briefly how their decoration had also altered. But before doing so, it will be useful shortly to recapitulate the principal changes that had taken place.

The old idea of the house-plan, derived from mediæval times, was to provide a great hall for the daily use of the whole household, and to supplement it by a group of rooms at each end, one for the use of the family, the other for the servants. The relations between the family and their retainers were then closer than they became in later times. Gradually the custom of dining all together died out; the family secluded themselves in their own apartments, the servants in theirs. The great hall was deserted as a living-room and degenerated into a vestibule leading to the rooms where the daily life was led. The distinction between the family and the servants was emphasised somewhat to the disadvantage of the latter; for when sacrifices of comfort had to be made for the sake of architectural effect, it was the servants upon whom discomfort was laid with the least scruple. They were frequently relegated to a basement during the day, and to attics during the night. The ground floor and the floor above it were reserved for the use of the family and for state occasions. The increase in the subdivisions of household work may be realised from Swift’s satirical “Advice to Servants,” addressed to persons whose duties (many of them) had not been specialised, even if they had come into vogue, in the old days.

It is interesting to compare the names of the rooms on the plans in the Thorpe collection, which dates from 1570 to 1620, with those on Webb’s plans for Durham House, dated 1649. Many of them are identical, such as the hall, the dining-room, the great chamber, the withdrawing-room, the gallery, and the servants’ rooms--kitchen, pastry, larder, buttery, and so forth. But Webb has a few new designations, such as the secretary’s room, the apothecary’s lodging, the housekeeper’s room, and the under-housekeeper’s, the baker’s and cook’s rooms, the page’s room, the master of the horse, the receiver-general, and the surveyor’s chamber. Then there are rooms of state, a presence chamber, a private dining-room to serve both his lordship’s and lady’s apartments, his lordship’s cabinet and his wardrobe, a dressing-room, and various back stairs serving both his lordship’s rooms and those of his lady.

From this it will be seen that the tendency was to increase the subdivision of duties and the general convenience of arrangement (by means of back stairs, among other things), and to allot more rooms to the principal servants. At the same time special provision was made for state occasions in the state rooms and presence chamber. It must be remembered that these plans of Durham House were made in 1649, although they were never carried out. They indicate a desire to increase at once the convenience and the stateliness of the house, and although it was designed on strictly classic lines, everything was not yet subordinated, as in later years, to the supposed necessities of architectural grandeur. In some of his other plans, many of which were studies in design rather than practical work, Webb was almost as great a sinner as his successors of the early eighteenth century.

The external appearance of houses had changed even more than their plans. Gables had almost disappeared; dormer windows no longer rose from the walls, wrought in stone or brick, but from the roofs and made of wood; the roofs themselves assumed a flatter pitch and generally started from widely projecting eaves. Windows were no longer mullioned and transomed into many small lights, but consisted of one large opening enclosing a wooden frame, which at first was divided by wood mullions, but later was filled with sliding sashes. The general appearance of the house was more compact than of old but less picturesque; it was more regular, and depended largely upon the nice spacing of the windows, upon its proportions, and its more scholarly detail.

This scholarly detail gradually ousted the naive design of the Jacobean craftsmen. To be scholarly you had to be correctly Italian, and therefore the quaint mixtures and the quaint native growths that sprang from an imperfect acquaintance with the true gospel of Italian design were discountenanced. Fancy was to be smothered by knowledge. Nevertheless it is odd to find how long the strapwork _motif_ survived, which we are apt to think of as Dutch; it is found in work of Charles II.’s time and even later; Webb made use of it, and even Jones himself did not disdain it, as may be seen from some of his designs for chimney-pieces (Figs. 91–94).

Staircases had also changed in the character of their detail; they were still arranged in straight flights, but we have already seen at Coleshill that they sometimes formed a more imposing feature than in Jacobean days; in that instance the staircase is doubled, each portion being of equal importance, and they occupy a considerable part of the entrance hall. This double arrangement was by no means of universal adoption, it depended upon the space at command, and at Ashburnham House, Westminster, for instance, where space was restricted, a single staircase was ingeniously planned, but was treated in a monumental manner. The design is attributed by some to Inigo Jones, and it is almost certain that it must be either by him or by Webb. The house was originally fashioned out of some of the old monastic buildings, and had been used as a dwelling for many years before the time of Elizabeth. It was known as the Dean’s House, and was occupied by a succession of tenants. In 1621 a lady became the tenant; she was succeeded in 1628 by Sir Edward Powell, who obtained a lease in 1629. The question of the tenancy is important as it sets limits to the number of those who would be likely to embark on considerable alterations. In 1640 the house was transferred to trustees for the benefit of Sir Edward’s wife. Then came the Civil War, and the next tenant who appears is William Ashburnham, who, already in occupation, obtained a forty years’ lease in 1662. As he was an ardent royalist, it is supposed that he could not have taken the house previous to the Restoration.[44]

The choice of the individual who caused the new work to be done appears to lie between Sir Edward Powell and William Ashburnham, for Lady Powell’s trustees of 1640 would not be likely to undertake anything of such magnitude, and it is improbable, although not impossible, that it was done during the Civil War or the Commonwealth. The reasonable dates lie, therefore, between 1629–1640, and 1662–1672, in which latter year Webb died. On the whole, the character of the work points to the later period; it looks as though it were the outcome of longer experience than the earlier period could have supplied. It should be borne in mind that the treatment of the ceiling, with the open cupola above it, resembles that of one or two drawings made by Jones and Webb for Wilton and elsewhere.

Worcester College Collection, i. 14.]

From the Burlington-Devonshire Collection at the R.I.B.A.]

From a Drawing in the Burlington-Devonshire Collection at the
R.I.B.A.]

In any case, and whoever designed it, the detail of the work is of interest as showing the departure from Jacobean ideals. The staircase, it is true, retains the solid newels, the massive handrail, and the stout balusters hitherto in vogue (Fig. 73); but the ornament has changed, and the balusters are almost as stout as if intended to be of stone. The panels on the wall are larger in size and in scale than those of Jacobean design, and they are marshalled with more pomp. The ceiling has no affinity with the busy and intricate ceilings of the departing style. The framework is large, and its members are adorned with foliage in high relief; the open cupola, with its balustrade and detached columns, is a new idea in English work (Fig. 74). If it was executed between 1629 and 1640, it would be the first example of its kind; if between 1662 and 1672, it would have had predecessors among the drawings of Jones and Webb. It is perhaps worthy of note that in Jones’s designs of ceilings the ornament is usually confined to the ribs, the intermediate spaces (that is, the ground of the ceiling itself) being plain. Here the ground is covered with foliage as well as the ribs, and curiously enough, those of Jones’s designs which include cupolas are similarly treated. His drawing for the “cieling of y^e passage Roome in to ye Garden” (at Wilton) is illustrated in Fig. 75. and Webb’s drawing “ffor y^e Seeling of y^e Cabinett Roome, 1649, Wilton,” in Fig. 76. Although the perspective treatment of the cupolas is a somewhat special feature, the general design of these and of that at Ashburnham House gives a good idea of the manner in which ceilings of the period were managed.

Another and more ambitious design for a ceiling by Webb is that for “his Majesty’s Presence at Greenwich, 1666” (Fig. 77), preserved at the Royal Institute of British Architects. The outer border represents a bold cove filled with modelled plasterwork in high relief; the four angles are occupied by lions and unicorns, emblematic of England and Scotland. If this design was ever carried out, it has disappeared, and there is no example to be found of modelling treated on so large a scale; the cove would have been some eight feet on the curve, and the effect of its plaster ornament would have been rather overwhelming.

Returning to the consideration of staircases, there is one at Can Court, in Wiltshire (Fig. 78), which is earlier in feeling, if not in date, than the Ashburnham House staircase. It retains many of the characteristics of Jacobean work, particularly in the stoutness of the newels, the handrail and the string. In the balusters, however, a later touch is apparent, as well as in the upper part of the newels. It is obvious, nevertheless, that the two staircases belong to the same type.

An interesting staircase both as to date and detail is one at Dawtrey Mansion, Petworth (Fig. 79). It is dated 1652, and while it retains the Jacobean form of finial, not gracefully designed, it has twisted balusters of the kind usually associated with work of fifty years later. It is one of the numerous links which connect the old and the new forms.

Of the same type as these in essence, although differently treated, is that kind of balustrade already mentioned in connection with Thorpe Hall (Fig. 49), where the balusters are replaced by scrolls of foliage. There was a very interesting example of this fashion at the Castle Inn, Kingston, now destroyed (Fig. 81), and there is another at Ham House (Fig. 80), where, however, the panels display flags, armour, guns, and other martial emblems, which may perhaps have some reference to Thomas Talmash, a brother of Lord Dysart (the owner) and a general in the time of William III.

There was an ancient house at Greenwich called the “Old Palace,” but distinct from the building which was at one time the royal residence, sometimes known as Crowley House. It has been destroyed, but some sketches by C. J. Richardson of the interesting work it contained have survived, and among them is one of a staircase with foliated balustrade (Fig. 82). The character of the detail suggests a date in the middle of the seventeenth century, and the general treatment recalls the work which was being done by Webb at that period. There is a slight survival of the earlier style, but the design is handled in a more refined spirit than was usually the case with sumptuous examples of Jacobean work. This is particularly observed in the door (Fig. 83).

From a Sketch by C. J. Richardson.]

In the hands of Inigo Jones and Webb both doorways and windows assumed a correct Italian appearance, but in less learned hands there were intermediate stages of development between the Jacobean type and the full classic. Such a one may be seen in the library door at St John’s College, Oxford (Fig. 85), and in an external door at Brasenose College (Fig. 84), part of the work already referred to. The library at St John’s was built in 1631 by Archbishop Laud, who was at that time Bishop of London and Chancellor of the University of Oxford. It is said that he obtained the help of Inigo Jones, but the detail of the work is so unlike anything which remains of Jones’s own draughtsmanship, that the correctness of the attribution is very doubtful. The stonework of this particular door, however, is not unlike some of the doorways with which the name of Jones is connected, now preserved at the Royal Institute of British Architects. The woodwork has no counterpart among his designs.

If we want to see the scholars idea of what a doorway should be, we must turn to Jones’s drawing of one for the Banqueting House (Fig. 86), or to Webb’s design for one in the palace at Greenwich, the block which he designed for Charles II. (Fig. 87). The former is entitled in Jones’s writing, “Scitzo for the Great Doore Ban. Ho. 1619.” It has the logically indefensible broken pediment, making room for an unfinished cartouche which was doubtless to receive the royal arms. On the panel in the frieze is indicated an inscription commencing with the first letters of Jacobus Rex Magnæ Britanniæ; below it is an ornament in which the strapwork _motif_ lingers. The whole effect is strong, handsome, and well proportioned. If it was ever actually carried out, it has now disappeared. Webb’s drawing is entitled in his own writing, “Greenwich, ffor the dore going out of the Cabinet into the gallery 1663.” The whole composition is not unlike Jones’s, but it is larger, although the door itself is smaller. The draughtsmanship in both is somewhat alike, but the difference is just that which distinguishes the work of the one man from that of the other. Jones’s is the more virile and direct. The figures on the pediment at Greenwich are named as “Liberality and Magnanimity,” at the other end were to be “Religion and Justice.” It must be admitted that their different attributes are not clearly indicated. A note at the side shows that this doorway was Webb’s own design; it reads “M^e I must alter these measures and make them thus,” then follow the altered dimensions.