During the seventeenth century a very significant change took place in architectural design. All through the mediæval period design seems, so far as our knowledge enables us to form an opinion, to have been impersonal, the result of a number of men working together, each concerned with the portion affecting his particular trade. It is probably true that some one individual controlled the general scheme, and gave an oversight to the work of the others; but not in such a sense as to have been entitled to be called the “architect,” as we understand the term. To us the architect is the individual who not only provides the plan, not only puts into practicable form the ideas of the employer, but also designs most of the details. He not only informs the various artificers that particular work is required in particular places, but he also provides them with drawings showing what the work is to be, and how it is to be fashioned. His influence to-day is much wider and much more intimate than it was in the Middle Ages, the ages which produced our cathedrals, our ancient churches, castles, and manor-houses.

The term “architect” occurs very seldom either in literature or in documents previous to the seventeenth century. Shakespeare uses the word once; in contracts of Elizabeth’s time it appears seldom, if ever; although the documents refer to the provision of design as well as workmanship. In the numerous books published for the guidance of designers in building matters during the reigns of Elizabeth and James, it appears now and then: but the appeals which these books made on their title-pages and in their prefaces to those for whom they were written, were addressed primarily to artificers and only incidentally to architects, who seem to have been included in order to catch a possible purchaser. The reason for the absence of the term is obvious: there were hardly any people who called themselves architects.

The publication of these books is itself a sign of the change which was coming over the methods of design. Hitherto design had been a matter of tradition, preserved by guilds, handed down from father to son or from master to man. The horizon of a mediæval workman was limited: he neither knew nor cared much for what was being done in distant lands. His style was influenced by local considerations, and although he conformed to the general changes which affected the whole of Gothic architecture, there was usually a local flavour about his work. The difference in character between the work in Norfolk, Northamptonshire, and Somerset is obvious at first sight: but a closer scrutiny will often reveal local variations in those districts themselves.

Why were these books published, and what kind of architectural style did they illustrate? Did they bring before the eye of the designer masterpieces of Gothic architecture, or details of Gothic work? Not at all: no book illustrating Gothic architecture was published till the end of the eighteenth century.[1] There was, in truth, no need for such a book: the mediæval workmen had their own traditional knowledge, and it concerned them not at all to learn how the workmen in Germany or southern France or Spain differed in method from themselves. They gave no thought to such matters, nor did they think of themselves as being concerned with architecture; they merely built in the manner of their fathers.

But although the successors of the mediæval craftsmen in the mid-sixteenth century shared their predecessors’ apathy in respect of what was being done abroad, it was otherwise with those for whom they worked—the great men who were building fine houses all over the land. To these had come new ideas in relation to their buildings. They had heard of the splendid work that for years had been executed in Italy: some of them had seen it; monarchs and wealthy nobles had even brought foreign craftsmen over to exercise their skill in the northern parts of Europe. The Italian manner was a novelty in this land of Gothic traditions, it was unlike anything to which England was accustomed. But the new fashion became popular. Employers demanded the novel detail in their houses; the foreign artists were not numerous, and so the English workmen had to supply the best imitation they could contrive on a scanty training. Here came the opportunity for the bookmakers. They showed the way in which Italian buildings were designed; they illustrated the “Orders” which gave those buildings their distinctive character so far as appearance went; they showed how classic detail might be applied or perverted to meet the exigencies of buildings which had a Gothic parentage. The books, therefore, were published in order to help designers who aimed at working in the new classic style.

The effect, of course, was to foster that style at the expense of the native Gothic. It is true that books were not widely distributed; there was not in those days the rapid dissemination of ideas that there is in our own. But if anyone wanted a book about building, he could only find such as dealt with classic architecture. Hence in a short time the operations which had hitherto been thought of as building, began to be thought of as Architecture, and the only architecture that was formulated was classic architecture. The idea of that art became inseparably connected in the minds of men with classic expressions of it. Thus it came about that in the course of half a century people of culture regarded all Gothic buildings—even the noblest—as barbarous, and not worthy the name of Architecture.[2] The “Gothic order,” as it was called, was merely a “fantastic and licentious manner of building.”

It was only a small proportion of the actual workmen who were able to study books; the rest picked up the new manner from such foreigners as they met, from work which they saw as they moved about, and occasionally, perhaps, from verbal description. Some worked all their lives on the old lines. One result of the difficulty of imbuing the workmen with the requisite knowledge was that some of the men whose duty it was to overlook buildings—the surveyors—made a point of studying the new style either through books or by foreign travel or both. They rendered themselves familiar with classic detail, and were thus enabled to give the desired character to the buildings under their charge. They gradually became more and more responsible for design in the various branches of the building trades, and thus grew to be architects as well as surveyors. The inevitable tendency was for architectural design to become more personal, and for its results to become less like a spontaneous growth of the land.

The number of architectural books published was not in reality very great; they were mostly of foreign production, and probably few copies found their way into England. The earliest were printed in Italy during the closing years of the fifteenth century. By the middle of the sixteenth century there were, perhaps, half a score in existence, some in Italian, some in French. These were obviously of no use to unlettered workmen, but they were appreciated by men of learning, and were studied by some of the surveyors of the time. One or two Englishmen had produced treatises on architecture by the end of the century, but their direct effect on English design can hardly be traced. It is, indeed, unwise to look to any of the books of the time for direct and immediate influence; their effect seems to have been gradual. As may be supposed, it would be the illustrations which would have the greatest weight, for they would be intelligible to men unacquainted with the language of the text. The more important treatises confined themselves largely to drawings of the orders, but a few smaller books, published by Germans and Dutchmen, gave many illustrations of particular features such as doorways, windows, and so forth, and these appear to have appealed more powerfully to English workmen and to have influenced in some degree the appearance which they imparted to their details.

In another and different direction some of the French books would seem to have had an interesting effect. Philibert de l’Orme and Androuet du Cerceau had published remarkably fine illustrations of the more important buildings then recently erected in France. It is certain that John Thorpe, who was the most accomplished and ingenious of the English surveyors of his time, had studied du Cerceau’s books, and it is quite conceivable that, fired by such an example, he may himself have contemplated a similar production for England, and that to this idea is owing the very interesting collection of drawings now preserved at the Soane Museum. But however this may be, it is clear that some of the men who were concerned with the design of large houses thought it worth while to preserve their drawings, for, in addition to the Thorpe collection, there is that other collection by Thorpe’s contemporary and successor, Smithson; while in later years are those connected with the work of Inigo Jones, John Webb, and Wren; and in still later times Campbell, Gibbs, and other architects made a point of publishing illustrations of the buildings which they and their contemporaries had designed.

But although we may perhaps see in the books of the sixteenth century the genesis of our own English architectural publications, their immediate interest lies in the fact that whatever was published about the beginning of the seventeenth century dealt with classic architecture, and that anyone who sought in books for information about building, found nothing about the old Gothic detail, but only instructions how to design in the classic style.

The Thorpe collection of drawings is well known, and belongs to the order of things which was passing away. But the Smithson collection is but little known, and as it forms a link between what was passing and what was approaching, it will be of interest to say a few words about it, and to give a few illustrations from it.

Of Smithson, as of his predecessors in his calling, very little is actually known. He seems to have belonged to a family of architectural designers, the members of which have been rather confused by Walpole and other writers who have referred to them. The facts seem to be that of his parentage there are no records, although chronology would admit of Robert Smithson, of Wollaton, being his father; his own name was John, he had a son named Huntingdon, a grandson named John and a great-grandson named Huntingdon. He himself died in 1634, and his son Huntingdon in 1648. They were both buried at Bolsover, in Derbyshire, and an inscription over the grave of the son speaks of his “skill in architecture.” The two have been confused with each other, but their separate identity has recently been made clear.[3] According to Walpole, in his “Anecdotes of Painting,” “John Smithson was an architect in the service of the Earls of Newcastle. He built part of Welbeck in 1604, the riding-house there in 1623,[4] and the stables in 1625; and when William Cavendish, Earl and afterwards Duke of Newcastle, proposed to repair and make great additions to Bolsover Castle, Smithson, it is said, was sent to Italy to collect designs. From them I suppose it was that the noble apartment erected by that duke, and lately pulled down, was completed, Smithson dying in 1648.[5] Many of Smithson’s drawings were purchased by the late Lord Byron from his descendants who lived in Bolsover.” On Lord Byron’s death the drawings were purchased by the Rev. D’Ewes Coke, and they are now in the possession of his descendants at Brookhill Hall.

Many of the drawings have no title or other means of identifying them; but such as have go to show that Smithson, who, it would seem, was not only buried but also lived at Bolsover on the north-east border of Derbyshire, had a considerable local practice, as well as a certain amount of work in London. The riding-house and stables at Welbeck, mentioned by Walpole, are both in the collection, and there are also several drawings relating to Bolsover Castle.

The buildings which go to make the “castle” may be divided into three groups: First, there is the castellated portion, built on the site of the old keep and begun in 1613: this part is still in good repair. Then there is a long range on the terrace—the “noble apartment” mentioned by Walpole. This was built by Sir William Cavendish, afterwards Duke of Newcastle, who presumably found the older building too small. Its principal apartment was a magnificent gallery, but, so far as its ruinous state permits the other rooms to be made out (and among them was a kitchen), it would appear to have been a completely equipped residence. On the view of the castle which adorns the Duke of Newcastle’s book on Horsemanship, this building is called “La Gallerie.” The third group comprises the riding-house and its adjuncts, which adjoin the gallery at its western end.

The few drawings in the Smithson collection which refer to Bolsover are all, except one, connected with the castellated portion, and they go to prove that John Smithson must have been concerned with that particular building. But there is one drawing of a large doorway (No. 40) which closely resembles the central doorway on the terrace front of the gallery, and the general detail of this building, which is large in scale, heavy and rather spoilt by laboured freaks, is akin to much else that is to be found among the Smithson drawings. This gallery block is evidently of two dates. The eastern portion has a certain amount of detail in the simpler style of the Jacobean period, while that of the western half is more laboured and contorted. At the eastern end are five small projecting stones bearing initials and dates; one of them has on it H. S. 1629, and may conceivably commemorate Huntingdon Smithson. But as it has four neighbours with other initials and the dates 1629, 1630, it would appear that in any case he was only one out of five persons entitled to recognition. However, the evidence of tradition, the date-stone and the drawings clearly point to the Smithsons being responsible for the design of the buildings generally, and it may well be that the influence of the father is visible in the earlier and simpler work, and that of the son in the grandiose gallery, with which he may have been busy at some time between his father’s death in 1634 and the outbreak of hostilities in 1642. The riding-house is much quieter in treatment than the gallery, and its detail is more refined. In spite of the tradition that the designs were collected in Italy, the work shows more affinity to Dutch models than to Italian, as may be gathered from the illustrations (Figs. 13, 16).

The riding-house at Welbeck (Fig. 20) follows the established lines in its treatment; it has steep gables with finials, mullioned windows, and an open hammer-beam roof: the very heavy pediments over the doors are in keeping with those at Bolsover, and with many other details in the collection, and they show how crude Smithson was in his treatment of classic features. It is important to bear this in mind, because he may be considered (although he had an uncommonly heavy hand) as typical of the majority of English designers before the influence of Inigo Jones began to be felt.

Smithson’s house-plans are of great interest, inasmuch as they belong to the order of things which was shortly to pass away. Some of them follow the traditional lines which made the hall the principal apartment of the house, placing it between the family rooms and the servants’ quarters. The plan “for My Lord Sheffield’s house” is an example of this arrangement (Fig. 14). It shows the rooms grouped in the old way round a courtyard, which had to be traversed in approaching the hall from the front door. The hall itself was entered through the screens at its lower end, and was flanked at its upper end by the parlour and other family rooms, and by the grand staircase. On the opposite side of the court were the kitchen, pantry, and other rooms for the service of the house. In the four corners of the court were square turrets containing subsidiary staircases. On the upper floor (Fig. 14) the chief rooms were the dining-chamber, placed as far from the kitchen as the limits of the house would allow, and the long gallery. The fact of a special room being set apart for dining itself indicates a fairly late date in respect of this ancient type of plan. As my Lord Sheffield was created Earl of Mulgrave in 1626, the plan must be prior to that year, but the house was probably not more than ten years old when the change of title took place.

The other specimen of Smithson’s planning is one of the H type, with the hall in one of the wings (Fig. 15). This is a departure from the old arrangement, which would have placed the hall in the central block, and thus have brought the buttery (which opens from the screens) into close touch with the kitchens. The hall becomes here more of a passage-room and less of a living-room than under the ancient disposition. There are no sitting-rooms for the family on the ground floor, but the principal staircase leads to the great chamber on the upper floor, thence to the long gallery and a distant “withdrawing-chamber,” as well as to the chapel and several bedrooms.

Both these houses are rigidly symmetrical in their external treatment, and it is interesting to note how, in addition to preserving such old-established rooms as the great chamber and long gallery, they depend for their external effect upon old features, such as mullioned windows, arcaded entrances, turrets, and the breaking up of the various fronts with substantial projections and large bay-windows. These devices were customary among the designers of the time of Elizabeth and James I., but they were gradually to be superseded by other methods.

There are no elevations preserved which fit these plans, but Smithson has left a number of specimens of his way of dealing with the exterior of his buildings. The most important in size is illustrated in Fig. 17. It follows the usual lines of the period with its mullioned windows, large horizontal cornices, arcaded entrance, balustraded parapets, and curly central gable; but it is rather clumsy compared with most of John Thorpe’s elevations. So, also, is the elevation of “My Ladye Cookes house in Houlborn” (Fig. 18) to which additional interest is lent by the fact that it is dated 1619. This front, with its large dominating pediment and circular-headed window has a later touch about it, and has lost most of the light-hearted piquancy which characterises the work of the preceding fifty years.

The hankering after Italian detail which had affected English designers in an increasing degree for many years finds expression in the Smithson drawings, among which are several “Italyan” windows and doors, an “Italyan” gate (Fig. 21), and one or two “pergulars.”

The Thorpe and Smithson drawings are closely allied both in architectural style and in methods of draughtsmanship, although the latter collection is obviously later in feeling. There is a vast difference in both respects between them and the drawings prepared by Inigo Jones and John Webb, which will presently be described. There are comparatively few details in the Thorpe and Smithson collections, especially in the former. The designers concerned themselves primarily with the mass of the building rather than with its particular features. The plans in all the collections, both early and late, are drawn with much care and many of them with singular neatness. But the elevations and perspective views are not of equal excellence. The latter are generally drawn by Thorpe as bird’s-eye views. They are in the nature of diagrams. There are, it is true, hardly any perspectives among the architectural drawings of Jones and Webb, but in the one notable instance—the view of a front for Whitehall Palace, at the British Museum—the spectator is supposed to be standing on the ground and not floating in the air (Fig. 19). In Jones’s designs for the scenery of masques there are many interesting architectural compositions, and these are perforce drawn to satisfy the eye of a spectator on the floor of the theatre. They show great skill in perspective drawing. The difference between the two methods is best indicated by describing the earlier as archaic and the later as modern. Indeed with the advent of Inigo Jones we enter upon a new phase in architectural design; we are leaving the ancient ways and turning into the modern.