Occasional Architecture in Seventeenth-Century London

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Occasional Architecture in Seventeenth-Century LondonAuthor(s): Christine StevensonSource: Architectural History, Vol. 49 (2006), pp. 35-74Published by: SAHGB Publications LimitedStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40033817 .

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Occasional Architecture in Seventeenth-Century London by CHRISTINE STEVENSON

The present essay is mainly concerned with the coronation entries staged for James I and Charles II by the City of London in 1604 and 1661, and especially with the temporary arches made out of wood and canvas and erected to mark nodal points along the routes.1 These events have been the subjects of scholarship keenly attuned to their place in accessions more than usually demanding upon representations of the king's majesty, in as much as James was the first Stuart king of England and, by the terms of hereditary monarchy, his grandson's reign began twelve years before his coronation, at the moment Charles Fs head was severed from the neck. Here, however, the arches will explain, or emblematize, a particular way of conceiving architecture: as an assemblage of readily-dismountable parts like Lego bricks, or like a trophy, the ornamental group of symbolic or typical objects arranged for display.2 In this kind of architecture 'classical' ornament comprises, not the material realization of a stable, rational, and universal intellectual system elsewhere promoted by the early Stuarts' patronage of Inigo Jones, for example,3 but what Sir Balthazar Gerbier in 1648 called a 'true History' of destruction and triumph, the result of more or less random despoliation and reassembly.4 What follows is not, therefore, directly concerned with majesty, nor with the arches' iconography or their audiences, their place in London's ceremonial geography, nor even their elaboration of the 'complex relationships between two distinct but interconnected political domains', the City that built them and the monarchy that graced them.5

Various experiences served to turn all 'architecture', in early modern Londoners' minds, into something potentially more unstable, and responsive, than the word generally connotes today. The reuse of materials from demolished structures was an economical practice familiar to them; also familiar was the symbolic charge that it could carry. (John Stow's Survey of London (1603) tells us repeatedly, for example, about the recycling of the 'stones taken from the Jews' broken houses' in 1215. )6 It was the City's privilege to greet regents with occasional architecture, among other entertainments, and its habit to invest more durable, masonry monuments with enough significance to justify dressing them up or, alternatively, knocking them down.7 London was not unique in Britain in these respects, but in the seventeenth century it was unique in evolving a popular political, including print, culture while maintaining a powerful but ambivalent relationship with the monarchy.8

More specifically I want to restore some measure of substance to an evanescent architecture by reconstructing one conceptual framework within which it was made and understood. The framework, shaped by England's history of iconoclasm, revived by Parliament in the 1640s, is that of composition with fragments, or spolia. People 'thought in terms of selection, dissection, alteration, and use', as Adam Smyth has written about the

35



36 ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY 49: 2006

comparable context of printed miscellanies;9 they found meaning in ostensible dislocation.10 The results could be artfully unmediated-looking - crowded, discomposed, and above all varied, in what has been called the 'aesthetic of spolia' '.u The effect can be replicated by design. Richard Brilliant's coinage, spolia in re (which Dale Kinney has rendered as Virtual spoliation') has been useful in the surprisingly varied contexts in which objects have been carved to look as if they were assembled from disparate fragments.12 More generally, the power of such appropriations and re-orderings, and their simulacra, has one way or another fuelled the production of a great deal of art: decoupages and shell-grottoes; or synthetic Cubist paintings and the 'fragmented neoconstructivist forms mimetic of dismembered bodies' of late twentieth-century architecture.13

Here we begin with ornament and its 'occasions' before turning, first, to James's entry of 1604.

Balthazar Gerbier, quoted above, was in 1648 planning to set up a school for children (including poor boys and girls) in Bethnal Green, near London. His Interpreter - that is, prospectus - describes one theory explaining the origins of classical architectural ornament:

Others have maintayned that the Grecians (in reme[m]brance of their victories) did range the Colom's to their building in form of slaves bearing the burden of their buildings, that those grains (as bead drops pendans garlands, enterlassed knots, fruitages, and an infinite number of ornements[,] ... which are put on the frize), did signify the spoills which the vaincours [victors] had braught away from their ennemies [sic], and that to preserve the memory there of they would place them on their buildings; thus the orn[a] merits of their Pallace (for the exterieur) did serve for tables to true History, and Fable, as the revers of Medaills[;l by heads of oxen, flowers, fruicts, cornu-cop's, trophees, and other signes did authorise the same.14

In this story, architectural sculpture is, ultimately, a trophy made up of victory spoils, both human and inanimate. Ornament arises in the more or less barbaric practice of hanging booty on buildings; these objects then became petrified, or monumentalized, to form a civilized and canonical system. Any building thus becomes, typologically speaking, a 'true History' or monument, physical evidence for the past analogous to that offered by coins and medals. Ornament leaves 'to futur age [sic] the remembrance of things'.15

The passage ultimately originates in Vitruvius' prescription for wide knowledge on the architect's part, which should embrace historical episodes like those of the Greeks' defeat of the traitorous Carians and the Spartans' triumph over a superior Persian force, so the architect can explain the rationales behind caryatids and Persians - sculpted female and male figures, as Gerbier explained, whose employment as columns pantomimes their new, slave status.16 While these ornaments obviously sustain Vitruvius' analogy between bodies and columns,17 their histories do not form part of his theory, as such; they are examples (even if the only ones given) of the kind of information useful to the architect who wishes to appear authoritative. By comparison with De architectures account of the ways in which masonry construction had come to imitate immutable carpentry structures, the stories of the captives are, as Alina Payne has written, 'localized illustrations, fragments of political text'.18 It was in this spirit that John Soane complained about the 'Persian court' designed for a rebuilt Whitehall Palace



OCCASIONAL ARCHITECTURE IN 17TH-CENTURY LONDON 37

Fig. 1. A detail of a design (Harris & Tait 52) by Inigo Jones and John Webb for Whitehall Palace from the later 1630s (Conzvay Library, Courtauld Institute of Art. By permission, The Provost and Fellows of Worcester College, Oxford)

in the late 1630s (Fig. 1). Was Charles I - Soane asked, rhetorically - planning to maintain a permanent state of war?19

Gerbier's immediate inspiration had in fact been the English Civil War, which began not long after Inigo Jones and John Webb devised the Persian court: his academy's wide-ranging curriculum included military as well as civil architecture and he proceeded to publish lectures on fortification. Because the sculptures required to 'set' buildings 'forth' (that is, frame them appropriately) might seem irrelevant - or even tending to idolatry - to some of his audience in 1648, after six years (as we will see) of state-sponsored iconoclasm, he underlined their original service as visual records and therefore as images that were theologically sanctioned: 'unabused', to use the sixteenth- century term.20 To this extent, his discussion is topical and tendentious. Yet as we have seen it is possible to reconstruct for it a context including not only other writing, but an entire local culture; Gerbier's London audience (those 'fathers of families and lovers of vertue') was particularly well equipped to flesh out his story of the victorious Grecians with their own recollections of triumph.

An emphasis on ornament's origins in, and meaning for, specific events had characterized English theory from its very beginnings. In listing what the 'Perfect Architect or Master of Building' must know, John Shute's First and Chief Groundes of Architecture (1563) includes the architect's knowledge of what Shute called 'histories' or




Fig. 2. 'Portions Persica , from Cesare Cesar iano (ed.), Vitruvius: De Architectura Libri Decem (Como, 1521)

'causes7. 'There be', wrote Shute, 'multitude of causes in buildings, and very many ornatures and garnishings of which he [the architect] must needs give answer, from whence they come and for what purpose they are made/ Shute's prime example is, predictably, the story of the Carian women, captured by the Ionians, 'not suffering them to put off their rich ornaments and jewels to the intent, that the show of their triumph, might be thereby the more glorious/ Vitruvius indicated as much too, but when, in describing the Persians, Shute wrote that the general Pausanias had 'laid Epistilia' upon their heads, 'and Coronas, setting betwixt them Zophorus', that is, a frieze, 'which was garnished and figured with the jewels, that they had taken from them being their enemies, As cups, goblets, chains, girdles, & such like other jewels ... and under their feet was set Stylobata, wherein were written their titles',21 the girdles, etc. are extemporized, part of a tradition of Vitruvian exegesis, notably exemplified by Cesare Cesariano's edition of 1521 (Fig. 2), in which classical elevations become more militaristic tableaux vivants than orderly structural diagrams.




It was towards the mid-sixteenth century that interest in what George Hersey has called architecture's 'distinctly punitive aspect ... its role as the exhibitor of justice accomplished' began to yield to the pursuit of austerer, more abstract causes. The text of Palladio's Quattro libri dell ' architettura (1570), for example, takes no interest in caryatids at all, and for Christopher Wren a century later it was similarly stone ornaments' perpetuation of the logic of carpentry, not heaps of loot, that constituted the study worth pursuing.22 Gerbier appreciated the aesthetics of spolia, which in 1662 he strikingly illuminated by invoking the Caribbean natives - he had a couple of years previously led an ill-fated expedition to Guiana - who 'do place Pendants in their Nostrils, which are proper for the Eares'. His point was, that this kind of ornament, while wayward, is not impractical (the pendants 'hinder not the use of the Lips') just as its carved-stone equivalents do not impede a building's 'strength or convenience'. For more civilized contexts, however, he scorned such solecisms as columns placed free- floating, 'like things Patcht or glewed against a Wall' - and advocated trade with the 'wilde Americans', who could supply England with ambergris and hardwoods in exchange for 'Iron Tools, Sissers, Knives, old Linnen, and trifles'.23

What follows examines, first, James I and VI's coronation entry of 1604, architecturally speaking the greatest ever staged in Britain, and one prompting publications that are useful to the present attempt to define an architecture that is not only occasional, in the sense of topical, but inherently unstable, composed of discrete, detachable parts like metal letter-types, 'to be Composed and Distributed as occasion serves'.24 His son Charles I's experiments with imperial iconography never embraced a fully-fledged entry into his capital, but another kind of occasional architecture was comprised by the iconoclasm of the last years of his reign. While the much-patched masonry and metal of London's Cheap Cross, originally one of the Eleanor Crosses, is obviously different from the wood and canvas of a coronation arch made in a matter of weeks, the Cross's fall can here illustrate the purposeful destruction that is the corollary to occasional architecture, as well as all architecture's (perceived) lability. We conclude with the arches built for Charles II's entry of 1661, and those built for perpetuity, at Temple Bar in 1670-72 and - reaching beyond London - at the Plymouth citadel, in 1666-69. m tne ye^rs immediately following the Restoration, architectural ornament had to accommodate the imperatives of a regime engaging in a kind of continuing civil war that it could only selectively acknowledge.

Regents' entries were rare events.25 There was no question, that is, of a continuing tradition and hence the importance, for pageant designers, of the illustrated accounts that were customarily printed as books. In 1604 Stephen Harrison celebrated the genre, which his The Arch's of Triumph (Fig. 3) introduced to Britain, as putting occasional architecture beyond the reach of Time's malice:

Reader, the limmes [sic] of these great Triumphall bodies (lately disjoynted and taken in sunder) I have thou seest (for thy sake) set in their apt and right places againe: so that now they are to stand as perpetuall monuments, not to be shaken in peeces, or to be broken downe, by the malice of that envious destroyer of all things, Time.26

Paper (that is, the book) becomes stronger than wood and canvas (the occasional architecture of the triumphs), which, because recorded on paper, becomes more durable than masonry.




Fig. 3. Stephen Harrison, The Arch's of Triumph (1604), title-page (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)




The paradoxes thrown up by the stuffs of commemoration continued to be held in affection: John Ogilby would claim (in 1670) that his printed account of the City's 'entertainment' for Charles IFs coronation had turned the day into a 'shining Trophy to Posterity'.27 His figurative use of 'trophy', for a monument, was by then conventional. The trope drew force from the knowledge that, unlike Harrison's arches, in ancient times trophies, once assembled and consecrated, could not - for fear of sacrilege - be dismantled into their constituent parts.28

On the Continent the division of labour, between what Ogilby would call the arches' 'Architectural' (material) part and their 'Poetical' part was customary, as was publication; it was, however, unusual for the architect, as opposed to the poet-programmer, to produce an account of the day. Harrison, a joiner, designed and supervised the construction of five of the eight arches through which James passed on his way from the Tower to Westminster on 15 March 1603/4 (tne entry was postponed for eight months after the coronation because of plague).29 The exceptions were those erected by London's Netherlandish and Italian communities, which each undertook its own arch's programme and design, and the 'invention', probably an arch (it took the form of a rainbow slung between two seventy-foot obelisks) that the City of Westminster and the Duchy of Lancaster hurriedly ran up in the Strand.30 Dividing the others between them, and not happily, the poets Ben Jonson and Thomas Dekker wrote the various texts - speeches, lyrics, and inscriptions - literally or figuratively attached to the structures, which were stages as much as they were gates, and themselves granted the power of speech, via their inscriptions, when convenient. 'Within a small frieze, (and kissing the very forehead of the gate) the edifice spake thus', Dekker wrote about one arch.31 This was in his Magnificent Entertainment given to King James, published in competition with Jonson's B.Jon.: His Part of King James his Roy all and Magnificent Entertainment, which had been rushed into print four days after the entry; Harrison's illustrated book followed a couple of months later.32 Harrison, moreover, inspired his colleague Conrad Jansen, a Brabanter resident in London for more than thirty years, to publish the arch that he had designed for the Netherlanders (Fig. 4).33 To the printed record of the day, finally, Gilbert Dugdale's 16-page The Time Triumphant (1604) adds a note of authentic spectatorship ('let me tell you I was not very neare' one exchange of courtesies) and the odd inspired simile: the pageant at Temple Bar (Fig. 5) 'some compared ... to an Exchange shop, it shined so in ye dark place'.34

Published accounts of entries are generally unspecific about the material as opposed to iconographical composition of the structures shown in the illustrations. Harrison's first 'device', 'Londinium' (Fig. 6), was crowded with personifications including, for example, the six Daughters of the City's Genius, but their status remains mysterious unless they open their mouths: painted cut-outs? wooden statues 'cut out to the life'?35 living players? (Dekker, however, tells us that the six Daughters were human beings but unspeaking ones: 'dumb complements'.)36 Interesting, therefore, for this idealized genre is the conviction with which Harrison (and, after him, Jansen) underlined the materiality of these structures with the use of plans - in Harrison's case with wood- grain indicated, too - and scales.37 He even refused to give the arches' measurements, leaving dashes ('the height of it was - foote'), on the explicit grounds that readers must themselves work out the dimensions and in this way assure themselves of




Fig. 4. Plan of the 'Pegme of the Dutchmen', 1604, from Conrad Jansen, Beschryvinghe vande Herlycke Arcus Triumphal ofte Eere Poorte vande Nederlantshe Natie opgherecht in Londen (Middelburg, 1604) (Copyright Bibliotheque Roy ale de Belgique)

magnificence38 - and the arches were enormous. Harrison's scale (whose accuracy is confirmed at least approximately by Dekker's note that the central opening was 18 feet high) shows that Conrad Jansen7 s arch (Figs 4, 7) rose around 80 feet beside the Royal Exchange. Dugdale wrote that it was so high that it seemed to topple forward, and that 'it was a griefe to me to awaken so soone' from this dream when he had had to lower his gaze to rest his neck.39

Dugdale was also interested in material substance. 'Londinium' represented the entire City, and remarkably accurately: 'The Cittie of London very rarely and artificially made, where no church, house nor place of note, but your eye might easilye find out, as the Exchange, Coleharber, Paules, Bowe Church &c.';A0 it offered such a 'show of workmanship and glorie as I never saw the like: top and top gallant [i.e., excellent] whereon were showes so imbroidered and set out, as the cost was incomparable'. The 'glorie' of the Netherlanders' arch, the third, 'was in my eye as it became, pleasing to the affection, gorgeous and full of joy, and so full of shew and variety'.41 Glory could be augmented by special effects. The Dutch illuminated their arch on the night of the progress and for the next couple of evenings, and placed lamps within the hollow obelisks on top, so light shone through the panels visible in Harrison's picture (Fig. 7),




Fig. 5. Harrison's 'Temple of Janus' , from The Arch's of Triumph (1604) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

which were made of coloured glass.42 The Londinium arch (Fig. 6) was obscured by a great curtain of silk until the King's approach, when it was revealed, to signify (Jonson wrote) that 'all mists were dispersed and fled7 thereby.43 We find in The Time Triumphant what Lucy Gent has called an 'indigenous, untheorized assumption about what makes a good building', or in this case a good pageant: ingenious and expensive craftsmanship (the City and its companies raised £4,100 for its five arches), sheer size and variety: in short, gorgeousness.44

Architectural historians sometimes have trouble with gorgeousness. Attempts to redeem the arches as pioneering manifestations of 'modular proportions and musical harmonies'45 seem misguided, given the texts' indifference to such intangibles. Sterner voices have called them 'teeming farragos of infelicitous detail', which 'no doubt appealed to an uneducated populace in much the same way as the architecture of Disneyland does today';46 but this is to forget the licence enjoyed by the triumphal-arch type which, almost by definition, comprises heaps of ornament, and was valued as




Fig. 6. Harrison's 'Londinium' , from The Arch's of Triumph (1604) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

such.47 It is worth noting, however, that Harrison guides us to a reading of the arches that is surprisingly orthodox, even prim, at least until we compare his text with William Kip's engravings. In this way Londinium's teeming detail stands, in the first instance, only as a platform for its representation of the City; the noughts-and-crosses strapwork, on the bottom order, is actually manifesting its Tuscan rusticity, the strength required to support all those 'Houses, Turrets, Steeples &c! Similarly, the odd little aprons, each with




Fig. 7. 'The Pegme of the Dutchmen (Harrison), designed by Conrad Jansen: from The Arch's of Triumph (1604) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

three pendant drops, which separate the words inscribed on the frieze, are nominally the 'Corbels' congruent with this Tuscan.

The constructions were variously labelled. Dugdale called them 'pageants7 or 'trophies', seemingly interchangeably, although the first connoted something like a stage and the second an accumulation of objects assembled in the show and variety of which he was so fond and hence, by extension, a monument or record of the triumph.48 Harrison gave them different names - 'great Triumphall bodies', 'arches Triumphall', 'devices'49 - but the word he used as often as any was 'pegme', which means a framework fixed together and in particular the 'jointed scaffolds or platforms' assembled for occasional use in public performance.50 In this way the joiner, who referred as we have seen to the arches' eventual 'disjoynting', and who had his title- page (Fig. 3) adorned with carpenters' tools, underlined their status as assemblages analogous to trophies - and, incidentally, undid the illusion, achieved with paint, that the arches were made of stone.51




The word 'pegme' is congruent with what Adam Nicolson has called 'jointness', in the sense of fitting-ness: 'coherence and propriety ', the 'acknowledged virtue of the age' and one emblematized, in Jacobean sermons, by the products of joinery.52 It is also appropriate to the way in which the arches' components were recycled. Sooner or later they would be sold for the price of their materials.53 Some parts were however preserved to serve comparably honorific functions, in what archaeologists call the 'meaningful' or 'iconic' (as opposed to the more or less casually thrifty) re-use of materials.54 Statues and trompe I'ceil paintings once stretched across wooden frameworks were sometimes presented to the guest of honour as souvenirs; this happened in Antwerp in 1635, after the great entry staged for the new Hapsburg Governor.55 In London the carved ornament and statuary prepared for entries (and Lord Mayors' shows) could be saved and displayed elsewhere. For example, the royal arms from Harrison's Temple of Janus at Temple Bar (Fig. 5) were, together with their heraldic supporters ('cut out to the life'), eventually removed to the Guildhall.56

Although hardly confined to the arches, in early modern England, this kind of recycling accorded with what was known of their antique prototypes.57 Alberti traced the origins of triumphal arches to city gates at which 'spoils and victory standards captured from the enemy' accumulated - 'Hence the practice developed of decorating the arches with inscriptions, statues, and histories'58 - and his Art of Building in Ten Books takes a particular interest in the denotative function of a kind of ornament originating in the material traces of real events: 'Along the face of the wall inscriptions and carved historiae should be added in square and circular panels.'59

Alberti' s prescriptions were based on the arches of Constantine (probably consecrated ad 315: Fig. 8) and Septimius Severus (completed ad 203), in Rome.60 As was well understood in seventeenth-century England, the later antique arches incorporate second-hand carvings; the statues of barbarian slaves at attic level on the Arch of Constantine, for example, are probably Trajanic.61 Noting these insertions, sixteenth-century Italian antiquaries had called the fragments spolia, in a metaphorical extension from the word for 'hide', that is, the skin that is stripped 'from an animal as armour is stripped from a defeated opponent'.62 Remarking how antique arches diverged from Vitruvian precept, Sebastiano Serlio concluded - at least in his treatise's first English translation, published in 1611 - that this was because they were almost always put together from spoils and, moreover, assembled by unsupervised ('selfe willed') workmen in the last-minute rush that was usual on such occasions.63 The dichotomy already sketched here, between universality and contingency, was in this way extended to the difference between a principled architecture governed by theory on the one hand, and on the other a hasty but appealing botch-job. '[P]ainted and fram'd on the suddaine', John Evelyn described some modern, ephemeral Roman arches in 1644.64 We might even address the difference as that between 'architecture' and 'building'. Both Balthazar Gerbier and John Webb, rival contenders for the reconstituted office of Surveyor of the King's Works after the Restoration, used the latter to designate occasional architecture, what Webb called 'building as for Masques, Tryumphs and the like'.65

Alberti' s hypothesis is plausible, but the historical relationship between the free- standing, honorific arch and the city gate in fact remains unclear.66 Alhough aware of




Fig. 8. The Arch of Constantine, in an engraving (dated 1583) from Antonio Lafreri's Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

the difference,67 England did not worry about it. In the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the City of London's real gates, which had 'assumed ... greater prominence in post-Reformation popular ceremonial', were decorated like triumphal arches although until the Restoration they retained their medieval composition, that of the curtain with flanking towers.68 As rebuilt in 1607-09 Aldgate (Fig. 9), for example, incorporated, along with a statue of James I in 'gilt Armor', enlarged copies of Roman gold coins which had been found nearby, in the spandrels above the central arch: a clear example of spolia in re also constituting a direct reference to the ornament on the Arch of Constantine. The new Aldersgate, begun 1618, similarly commemorated James's majesty in general as well as, specifically, his entry of fourteen years earlier.69 Six of the eight gates came to bear figural sculpture, including royal statues and devices, and, occasionally, the heads and limbs of those executed and quartered for treasonable offences.70 Mounted as it was on structures granted particular significance within the City's symbolic topography, all of this 'ornament' was liable to attack, refurbishment, and replacement in what were defined as 'public' contributions to the politics of early modern England.71

The City and its merchant-' stranger' communities were prepared to invest heavily in royal entries, which during Charles I's reign they variously alluded to as: opportunities for 'Cittizens ... [to] she we and performe theire loialties' (in 1625); 'bewtifinnge




Fig. 9. Aldgate, as illustrated by John Bowles in London Described (1731) (Guildhall Library, City of London)

[beautifying] ... the Cittie' (1627); and as the 'manifestation of the Citties hearty affection towardes' the king and his family (1641, when affection was waning fast).72 Like his father's, Charles's entry had been postponed on account of plague, until May 1626. By then five arches - about most of which nothing is known - had been erected, at least three by the City and its companies and another by the Netherlanders, who spent almost one thousand pounds on the arch, as they had on James's.73 In May, however, the Lord Mayor was informed that the king would not enter after all and, moreover, that because the pageants already erected, 'besides the particular charge they cause in the Cittie, do choke and hinder the passage' of wheeled traffic, they must be dismantled.74 The Venetian representatives at court reported the City's 'disgust' at this insult at a time of 'incredible' general resentment towards the monarch. (Charles's reference to the citizens' expenses was in fact a bitter counter-thrust, following as it did upon the City's flat refusal to lend him £ioo,ooo.)75 After the king's execution in 1649 his historians, Balthazar Gerbier among them, found something ominous in his failure to stage a coronation entry, 'although the same Triumphs were provided for him, as sumptuous as for any other'.76

Charles's earlier denials of his triumph to the City arose in no distaste for the theme during his decade of 'personal' rule after he dissolved parliament in 1629, and instances of Stuart investment in imperial iconography in the next decade sometimes turn on the presentation of human figures in submission. Among them are two drawings which Jones made some time between 1636 and 1638, of captives before an emperor; one seems to show them heaped (Fig. 10). Probably inspired by the panels showing the victorious Marcus Aurelius that are among the spoils that went into the Arch of Constantine (Fig. 8),77 they constitute proposals for ornamenting a rebuilt Temple Bar in the Strand (Fig. 11).




Fig. 10. Inigo Jones, design (RIBA Jones & Webb 53) for a relief panel in a rebuilt Temple Bar, London, probably 1636 (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

Fig. 11. Jones, design (RIBA Jones & Webb 52) for a rebuilt Temple Bar, probably 1636 (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

Had it taken place, this transformation of a nondescript gateway into a permanent triumphal arch would have constituted, as John Peacock and Christy Anderson have written, a 'radical intervention in the fabric of London: on the threshold of the "liberties" of the City it would raise a monument to royal power in the new classical style sponsored by King Charles I through his Surveyor'.78 For the City, however, radicalism lay less in the monumentalizing than in the royal court's interference in what had become a neo-classical but had always been an emphatically civic type. The words 'Senatus Populusque Londinensis Fecit 1609' (this was undertaken by the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and citizens of London in 1609) were cut into Aldgate (Fig. 9), the form of the boast also alluding to the foundation myth that London was Troynovant, older than Rome but Rome's successor.79 It was, however, a royal Order in Council that in 1636 directed certain aldermen to confer with Jones regarding a 'convenient gate' on the Temple Bar site, a particularly potent threshold because it marked the City's boundary with Westminster.80

The real Temple Bar's importance was not reflected in its day-to-day appearance, which was unassuming before its rebuilding in the 1670s; but like other City monuments the Bar was also regularly decorated for royal visits (or entirely sheathed: Harrison turned it into a Temple of Janus [Fig. 5] for James I, in the last of the pegmes.)81 'Dressed' or 'garnished' were words often used; in 1606 the Tower of London was, in a piece of counter-intuitive gendering, 'trymde and adorn' d in her best and most warlike ornaments' for Christian IV of Denmark.82 Fountains like the so-called Standard, and




the Great and Little Conduits, all in Cheapside, the City's major thoroughfare, were also dressed up, and could moreover run with wine to manifest civic hospitality.83 The single most important site for display was, however, the nearby Cheap Cross, the Eleanor Cross reconstructed in the fifteenth century to include statues of the Virgin and Child and St Peter, which was regularly cleaned and regilded for the civic receptions of monarchs and royal brides (and one bridegroom, Philip of Spain).84 Such structures defined the processional landscapes of the routes followed by the Lord Mayors' inaugural shows and the royal entries, routes coinciding at the corner of Leadenhall and Gracechurch Street, and then tracing identical paths along the Poultry and Cheapside as far as St Paul's Cathedral.85

Through such usages civic monuments accrued associations, additional meaning, and who is to say through which associations, exactly, the Cheap Cross invited regular assault after the Reformation? While its statues and cross could be, and were, construed as incitements to idolatry (although not unanimously), the City also defended the Cross with iron railings in anticipation of the arrivals of Philip, in 1554, and James, in 1603, suggesting its broadly political significance.86 Pamphleteers, including the essayist Henry Peacham ('Ryhen Pameach': Fig. 12), argued that it had for centuries stood as a harmless civic ornament, but in May 1643 the Cross was demolished by the 'furious and zelous [sic] people' (Evelyn).87 This was a month after the establishment of the parliamentary Committee for the Demolishing of Monuments of Superstition and Idolatry (the so-called Harley Committee), set up to oversee the reformation of churches and eventually any 'open Place' in London and Westminster.88

In London the assemblings and the dressings-up, the practices of occasion, of triumph, met not just the antiquarian's understanding of the Imperial Roman habit of recycling masonry, but a set of alternative practices: of disassembly, of denuding and knocking down. Contemporary accounts make clear, moreover, that despoiling a public monument was not only a more or less principled and /or sanctioned response to the politico-religious issues of the day,89 but an act of metamorphosis or 'reformation', drawing its power from the recognition of familiar, old fragments in new and sometimes shockingly abject contexts. Iconoclasm was, paradoxically, also framed as a conscious (and consciously symbolic) act of erasure, and specifically of embodied memories.90

Both iconoclastic modes can be illustrated with the help of pamphlets defending Cheap Cross. Structuring his Dialogue between the Crosse in Cheap, and Charing Crosse as one between two maidens allowed Peacham to exercise some innuendo about the long line of men who had previously 'begged' Charing Cross for the sake of her stone, but also satire, at the prospect of the demeaning transformations to which her vulnerable, unstable masonry would be subjected. An 'Innekeeper in Holborne' (she explains) 'had bargained for as much of me as would make him two troughes, one ... to give his swine their meate in'.91 The appeal drew additional force from the lasting notoriety of some of the recycling episodes that had followed Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries, such as the construction (1547-52) of Somerset House, on the Strand, which availed itself of newly-redundant ecclesiastical masonry.92 (Charing Cross claims that she herself had a narrow squeak when the Lord Protector Somerset began shopping for stone.) Charing Cross's defence of her honour would also have reminded many readers




Fig. 12. 'Ryhen Pameach' (Henry Peacham), A Dialogue ... (164.1), title- page (note the appeal to Christopher Wren's uncle Matthew) (By permission of the British Library: shelfmark E.2^8[g])

of John Stow's widely-read, highly somaticized descriptions of the mutilations suffered by Cheap Cross's statue of the Virgin at the hands of Elizabethan zealots; in 1581, for example, she was 'robbed of her son, and her arms broken'.93 Iconoclasm-as-forgetting, on the other hand, is implicit in the anonymous Downe-fall of Dagon (1643), in which Cheap Cross bequeaths his 'Body and Stones' (a pun? this Cross is male) to 'Masons and Workemen ... to keep by them for a patterne; for in time there will bee more Crosses in London than ever'. Appropriately, and in keeping with the Restoration's characteristic rhetoric of resurrection, word got round before the event that among the occasional, triumphal architecture greeting Charles II upon his entry in April 1661 would be a replica of the old Cross, popping up as the king departed the third arch (Fig. 15), built in Cheapside, very near the former site.94

Although it was paralleled by spontaneous action by Puritan soldiers for whom image-breaking was clearly part of the battle, the iconoclasm of the 1640s and '50s was led by Parliament.95 After the king's execution legislative attention shifted to royal




statues and other Stuart symbols, including coats of arms and inscriptions, which were like religious images 'not only to be removed but to be defaced' , as Julie Spraggon has written.96 In all this London took a leading role, thanks to its population's radicalism, its government's zeal, and the energy of the Harley Committee.97

Destruction was widespread, but the iconoclasm also inaugurated a circulating economy of relics. Many stained-glass windows and other church furnishings and fittings judged as 'superstitious' and /or tending to idolatry by virtue of their imagery or even inscriptions were hidden, not destroyed, in commemoration or anticipation of happier times.98 The king's execution was followed by the decapitations of statues of Charles I, but also by what Nicola Smith has called the Charles-the-martyr industry, and fragments surely found their way into the hands of royalists and /or investors in monarchical futures; certainly whole images did.99 Like other statues of the royal martyr, for example, Hubert Le Sueur's bronze equestrian figure of Charles I, completed in 1633 for Richard Weston, Earl of Portland was buried for safekeeping, with the result that the Restoration saw a rash of miraculous resurrections.100 (Gerbier, who had supervised the commissioning and erection of this statue, in 1648 wittily, if perforce obliquely, compared the future reappearances of hidden images with those of antique pieces in modern times.)101 The bronze was re-erected in 1676, and, in another example of the ways in which the ceremonial weight granted to certain monuments, even vanished monuments, served to anchor a twisting world, the site chosen was that of Charing Cross, destroyed in 1647.102

Monarchy's return to England was accompanied by the manipulation of the material and especially the built world to enact the obliteration of the recent, republican past;103 statues, coats of arms, and inscriptions were the ornaments now swapped, recarved, and erased in operations that could carry considerable authority. In March 1660, for example, the erasure of the 'Exit tyrannus' inscription carved to celebrate the execution of Charles I under his mutilated statue at the Royal Exchange, and the equally spontaneous celebrations that followed, were for Samuel Pepys reliable heralds of the king's return.104 (As a Navy Office functionary Pepys had a sharp eye for the significance of these substitutions; among his duties was overseeing the translation of 'State' to royal insignia on the ships bringing the king back from the Continent two months later.)105 The City's replacement of that statue, and the immediate erection of another to Charles II, are similarly among the tokens of the restored esteem between monarch and people enumerated in David Lloyd's Eikon Basilike (published July 1660). The younger Charles's shield bore the word, amnestia, to signify that the erasure of memory was, now, purposive and entirely beneficent; the Restoration return had been enabled, in large part, by his promise of a 'free and general pardon' to those who had risen up against him or his father.106

It was Commonwealth spoils that were, now, set into circulation, and not all the transactions of this new economy were terrifically portentous. Sir William Batten bought up Commonwealth ships' arms at a dockside auction, 'intending to set up some of the images in his garden' (his colleague Pepys wrote) 'and the rest to burn on the Coronacion night'.107 Six months earlier, however, in October 1660, Pepys had watched human bodies prepared to serve as architectural ornament, as Thomas Harrison and John Carew - two of the 'regicides' active in Charles I's trial and as such specifically




excluded from the general amnesty - were hanged and quartered. By law the disposition of the body parts was at the king's pleasure, and the severed heads were mounted on London Bridge and the Tower, the quarters on the City gates.108 On 22 October, three days after the final executions, the king made public his resolve to ride in state from the Tower to Whitehall on the day before his coronation; the willingness of the Charing Cross crowds to participate in a comparable ceremony surely helped to guide his decision.109

We do not expect much substance in occasional architecture, but even so this discussion of that of Charles I's London has pushed the term to embrace not only the non-event that was the king's coronation entry, but also iconoclastic destruction. In this way, however, I have tried to clarify two aspects of a seventeenth-century classicism that is in flux, not stasis, and which is more topical than universal. On the one hand is the construction destined for disjointing and, perhaps, eventual reassembly in different configurations. Related is the stage for ornament that is itself a trophy: for spolia, whose very dislocation moreover grants the structure the status of a monument, a bearer of memory. Although the claim sounds callous, finally, the stone caryatid and the actual human part mounted onto a city gate are in one sense ultimately equivalent, equally conducive not only to what Charles Burroughs has called the 'inscription of power relations in architectural formations'110 but also to the documentation of real occasions, real defeats.

In 1649, as has often been remarked, iconoclasm extended to the person of the king himself,111 and, whatever his son's promises of pardon, the scandal of that dismemberment demanded restitution. Although hailed as 'marvellous' and 'wonderful' performances of justice, and at a time when these words had a more sacral character than they do today112 the ten executions of October 1660 were evidently insufficient in a season when, for all the talk of amnesty, there was even more talk of plots:

The king spoke often and passionately of his desire for harmony and reconciliation, and of his wish to forget the divisions of the past but his anxious administration broadcast every hint of a plot, and exploited subsequent tension to bear down on all likely opponents. The king might claim to forgive enemies for past disloyalty, but by asserting that not he, but they refused to be reconciled and were forever plotting his downfall he could easily exempt them from his grace.113

In December, the Lords and Commons ordered that the bodies of four regicides who had died before Charles's return, including Oliver Cromwell's, be exhumed.114 Their hangings took place on 30 January 1661, the twelfth anniversary of Charles I's death; the heads of Cromwell, Henry Ireton, and John Bradshaw were then removed and arranged on Westminster Hall, where they remained, impaled, throughout the new reign, a 'becoming [i.e., fitting] Spectacle' of treason.115

Three months later, the commemorative ritual was itself commemorated on the east side, the first encountered, of the first of the arches welcoming Charles to the City, in Leadenhall Street. Both the drawing of this arch now in the RIBA's Burlington-Devonshire Collection (Fig. 13: see the Appendix) and David Loggan's engraving (Fig. 14) show a two-storey structure divided into three bays on each storey, on the bottom by three-quarter Doric columns extended, above, by statues of James I and




Fig. 13. Drawing (RIB A, Burlington-Devonshire Collection IV/13 [1.], here attributed to Edward Pearce,for the first, Leadenhall St arch for Charles II s coronation entry of 1661 (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)




Fig. 14. The first arch, in Leadenhall Street, engraved by David Loggan, from John Ogilby's The Entertainment of His Most Excellent Majestie Charles II (1662) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)




Charles I on tall pedestals. The major architectonic outlines and incidents evident in the drawing hold for the engraving, although it has slightly altered proportions. (Both observations are generally true of all four arches; compare these with the drawings the iconographically much simpler third arch, of 'Concord', built in Cheapside: Figs 15, 16.) The engraving also shows such living players as the woman with the large, emblematic banner to the right of the Charles statue (and what a job that was, standing in the breeze almost 60 feet above the ground).116 Most importantly, it differs from the drawing in illustrating the inscriptions and paintings expounding the arch's theme, which one loyal observer called 'Anarchy and the confusion which that government brings'.117 Within a spatial syntax that was necessarily complex, given the grid-like arrangement of frames offered by the type, which is anyway two-sided, the right-hand side of the face of the arch visible to us manifests the anarchy, the left-hand side loyalty.118 Hence the painting representing Charles's joyful reception at Dover (Fig. 14, bottom left) was partnered, on the right, by what John Ogilby described as a 'Tablet representing in a Trophy the late Example of Gods Justice upon the Rebels': a fan of 'decollated heads'.119 The painters Andrew Dacres and William Lightfoot were paid a total of £1,130 for their work, one of the City's largest single disbursements on the arches.120

As the author of what was called the 'Poetical Part' (the 'Speeches, Emblemes, Mottoes, and Inscriptions')121 of the day's events, Ogilby published an account of the day, the Relation of His Majesties Entertainment (1661), which attributes the complementary, 'Architectural Part' to 'Mr. Peter Mills, Surveyor of the City, and another Person, who desires to have his name conceal'd'.122 The identification of that other person as Balthazar Gerbier is traceable back to the early eighteenth-century notes of George Vertue (see Appendix). It is reasonable enough, as 'Building as for Magnificent Showes' was then recognized as a specialist branch of the architectural art in which only Gerbier (along with his rival John Webb) was then claiming expertise.123 Geoffrey Fisher has now, however, concluded that the four RIBA drawings - which, on the assumption that Loggan's engravings are accurate, seem to have been made to illustrate design proposals - generally attributed to Gerbier, are in fact by Edward Pearce.124 Whatever the identity of the other 'Person', the designs shown in the drawings were subsequently elaborated and modified to permit the insertion of greater numbers of the inscriptions and paintings that would broadcast Ogilby's iconographic programme. Everything happened in a hurry. The actual construction and erection of the arches, a large undertaking, was perhaps supervised by the experienced Peter Mills.125

Ogilby published two books about the triumph, of which the first is the relatively brisk Relation (1661), whose bare-bones narration of the arches' iconographies and of the day's events provided the framework for the insertion of the more or less lengthy digressions, quotations from and references to 131 different authorities, which provide the flesh of the illustrated Entertainment of His Most Excellent Majestie (1662), much in the way that paintings and texts were inserted into the arches. Among the new offerings is a compendium of antique speculation on the origins of triumphal arches and trophies, an essay whose own composition, we realize, was directed by the real political anxieties of that year.

While the theme of forgiveness that permeated the literary iconography of the first months of Charles IFs reign could naturally be accommodated within a civic entry,




Fig. 15. Drawing (RIB A, Burlington- Devonshire Collection IV /1 3 [4..]), here attributed to Edward Pearce,for the third arch, ' of Concord' , for Charles II's coronation entry of 1661 (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

Fig. 16. The third arch, 'of Concord', engraved by Loggan, from Ogilby's Entertainment (1662) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

framed as the form was by fictions of mutual obligation and esteem, every triumph none the less implies a defeat. The entry of 22 April 1661, staged the day before St George's Day and the coronation, presented a potential embarrassment in so far as the monarch might be construed as having triumphed over his own people or, worse, as still attempting to triumph. Fifth Monarchists planning to burn down the arches, among other things, had been apprehended less than a week earlier. Over the previous six months a series of royal orders had banished republican ex-soldiers from London, instituted what effectively amounted to a national system of gun control, and empowered the militia to seize suspect arms and ammunition.126 In the early summer of 1662 the relevant lords lieutenant were ordered to 'dismantle', that is, reduce the walls and fortifications of five provincial towns that had stood in notable opposition to




Charles I; inhabitants were disarmed before they were informed of these demolitions.127 In so far as the new regime's attempts to stabilize itself manifested themselves, not just in spectacular dismemberments, but in the seizure of weapons caches, trophies and their assembly may be said to have become paradigms for state policy. It was in this context that Ogilby's Entertainment was published, probably in late June or early July of 1662.128

The Entertainment begins with a long disquisition about trophies and triumphal arches in antiquity that lays particular stress in their origins in primitive habits of heaping spoil. Hence the trophy was 'amongst the ancient Romans ... ordinarily a Trunk of a Tree, fitted with the Arms of the Conquered Enemy'; as with 'all other things, the Beginnings' of the arches seem to have been similarly 'rude. At first nothing more than the Spoils hung up at the house of the Conquerour'. Over time the arches and their ornament became identified specifically with the conquest of barbarism, that is, conquest over the foreigner: the ancient Romans 'allowed not Triumph for a Victory over their Fellow-Citizens', nor triumphs unaccompanied by battle.129 Yet the iconography of Charles's first arch (Fig. 14) centres on the king's triumph, which required no battle, over the disloyalty of some of his people. How was one to maintain the imperial theme? Ogilby found two ways out of this scholarly impasse. The Arch of Constantine offers a notable prototype for an arch celebrating triumph in a civil war, and the poetry of Claudian comparable instances. But then Ogilby concluded that in any case Charles's opponents could not be dignified with the name of warriors; they were only rebels against their 'Natural duty'.130

Although the Entertainment illustrates them, no trophies of the classical type ornament any of the arches shown in the drawings and engravings. Had they been proposed, the pedantic Ogilby might have pointed to the absence of any arms (symbolically speaking) to capture among the rebels; what they could lend, as we have seen, were their bodies. Anyone else could have pointed to the popular discontent, in the spring of 1661, with the militia's enthusiasm for weapons seizures.131 Like the designers of Constantine's arch 1,300 year earlier, Ogilby and company had to contend with the delicate business of representing triumph in the aftermath of a civil war.132

The London arches stood for a year or so before being sold off for the sake of their materials as well as, no doubt, the odd memento. More durable has been Temple Bar as it was finally rebuilt in 1670-72 (Fig. 17). Although it is, as Kerry Downes has written, 'unlike any other city gateway', at least architecturally speaking - Londoners would by then have expected the royal statues, by John Bushnell, including James and an elegant Elizabeth (Fig. 18) as well as Charles I and II - Temple Bar is readily assimilable to the triumphal-arch type.133 Overall the composition is reminiscent of the second, 'Naval' arch of 1661 (Fig. 19), for example, which similarly used a foliated, 'Swiss-roll' volute to aid the transition from the lower to the narrower upper storey.134 Otherwise it is rustication that by and large carries the burden of ornamentation on Temple Bar, aside from the unorthodox central window surround, in which 'an architrave with ears or lugs is combined with a semicircular head', where Downes sees the hand of Wren.

A satisfying foil for Temple Bar is the main entrance (1666-69) to tne citadel at Plymouth Hoe, designed by Sir Bernard de Gomme (Fig. 20). The refortification of Plymouth, contemplated since the Restoration, was begun after the outbreak of the




Fig. 17. The west (Westminster) side of Temple Bar as illustrated c. 1690 in Johannes de Ram's collection of view of London (Guildhall Library, City of London)

Second Dutch War, in 1665 - Plymouth Sound was of great strategic importance to the trade with England's West Indian and North American 'plantations' - but it also provided a notoriously anti-royalist town with a base for civil policing. Charles, who took a personal interest in the project, made a highly successful visit to Plymouth in 1671 as part of what seems to have been a deliberate revival of the provincial royal progress, which in his hands also became a vehicle for courting nonconformists.135 The king professed himself delighted with the new citadel, through whose gate he surely passed; its central upper niche then held a gilded statue of himself.136

The arch is an exuberant composition for which de Gomme's previous experience in the Netherlands and Tangiers and, latterly, as Chief Engineer to the Ordnance Office seems scarcely to have prepared him, or us. We should instead look to his experience as a City-dweller: the subject of triumphal arches had been of keen interest to London's Dutch Reformed community when de Gomme registered with its church in the autumn of 1660, after his move to England. (The parish council, which had not forgotten the



6o ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY 49: 2006

Fig. 18. Detail of what had, on the Strand, been the east side of Temple Bar, as rebuilt 1670-72, and here photographed as it stood in Theobalds Park, Herts (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art) Ogilby's Entertainment (1662) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

fiasco of 1626, was wondering if it was expected to contribute an arch: in the end a donation of £400 towards the City's fund sufficed.)137 Again, the composition of the Plymouth gate is reminiscent of the Leadenhall Street arch (Fig. 14), for example, and other arches of 1661 loaded volutes, like those shown on either side of the niche in the upper part of the gate, with ornament: cornucopias (the fourth arch, called the 'Garden of Plenty') or trophies of arms (the Naval arch: Fig. 19). Prominent at Plymouth, however, are trophies, the 'hides' or 'skins' represented by the stripped armour shown mounted on inconspicuous stakes (Fig. 21). In this arch, unlike Temple Bar, an aesthetic of spolia is apparent: that of the heaping-up of ornament which accrues meaning, not only in conventional, quasi-syntactic relation to other ornament but also through the fact of dislocation. The very recalcitrance of some of the juxtapositions, like that at top centre - where fat scrolls heaped with fruit are wedged between faceted rustication and columns as frankly misplaced as an earring in a nostril - the additive quality of the ornament, is suggestive. Such 'discrepancies of style and genre', in Dale Kinney's words, could have been 'signals to imagine unity on another plane',138 and certainly on that of the overriding Restoration narratives of triumph.




Fig. 19. The second, 'Naval' arch (also known as 'Loyalty Restored'), engraved by Loggan, from Ogilby's Entertainment (1662) (Conway Library, Courtauld Institute of Art)

Balthazar Gerbier had explained how architectural ornament might be construed as 'the remembrance of things', in an assemblage that I have emblematized as the trophy, and the pegme. It is the process of composition with ornamental fragments, and the subsequent dissolutions, that have been my subjects. Both Ogilby and Gerbier, who may have collaborated on the 1661 entry, were intrigued by this process's significance to primitive cultures, the early Greeks and Romans and the 'wilde Americans'. We ourselves might be tempted to see in the Plymouth gate, for example, something that, if not exactly primitive, was already being superseded by a more austere species of classicism.139 If so, we should be careful, in adopting the seventeenth century's own terms of reference, not to over-simplify them. Recall, for example, Gerbier 's hopes for supplying the wild Americans with further ornament in the forms of iron tools and trinkets. He was alluding to a trade (one protected, in part, by the Plymouth citadel) already central to the City of London, and as such a cornerstone of England's imperial




Fig. 20. The 'Great Gate' at the Royal Citadel, Plymouth, designed by Sir Bernard de Gomme in 1669 (English Heritage NMR B43.1497)

Fig. 21. Detail of the 'Great Gate' at the Plymouth Royal Citadel (English Heritage NMR B 43.1 5 04)




future.140 It is within that broader framework of using exchanges of objects, willing or not, as a means of organizing cultural relations that we could pursue the aesthetics of spolia.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This paper originated in invitations from Leslie Topp and Alexandra Gerstein to speak at symposia they organized at Oxford Brookes University and the Courtauld Institute of Art, respectively, in 2004. I am also grateful to Kerry Dowries and to Matthew Hunter for their muscular comments on an earlier draft; to Geoffrey Fisher for his expert help with the drawings; and to the Research Committee of the Courtauld Institute in assisting me with funding with which to employ Alistair Fair and Tom Foxall to conduct research on my behalf. Sarah Monks supplied useful references; Sarah Rutherford was fine company on a long day- trip to Plymouth; and Judi Loach has been an enthusiastic and very knowledgeable editor.

NOTES

1 Charles IFs was the last entry of its kind. I believe the City's only seventeenth-century welcome for a foreign monarch (as opposed to such dignitaries as royal brides, or mothers-in-law like Marie de'Medid [in 1638]) was that for Christian IV of Denmark in July 1606, for which an arch was built in Cheapside: The King of Denmarkes Welcome: Containing his Arrivall, Abode, and Entertainment, Both in the Citie and other Places (London, 1606), pp. 22-23. The entire contents of this and other 'festival' books in the British Library are now freely available as digital images via the Library's web-site. 2 New Shorter OED, CD-ROM version (1997), s.v 'trophy'. 3 My sketch of classicism conventionally understood is indebted to Barbara Arciszewska, 'Introduction. Classicism: Constructing the Paradigm in Continental Europe and Britain', in Articulating British Classicism: New Approaches to Eighteenth-century Architecture, ed. Barbara Arciszewska and Elizabeth McKellar (Aldershot, Hants, 2004), pp. 1-33 (pp. 1, 2). 4 Balthazar Gerbier, The Interpreter of the Academiefor Forrain Languages, and All Noble Sciences, and Exercises ... ([n.p.], 1648), p. 175. 5 Lawrence Manley, Literature and Culture in Early Modern London (Cambridge, 1995), p. 214. 6 John Stow, A Survey of London written in the Year 1598 ..., 1603 edn (Stroud, Glos, 2005), p. 31; compare PP- 47/ 53-54/ 244. 7 In what follows 'City' refers to the City of London and its government, as opposed to the larger metropolitan area, including Westminster. 8 Peter Burke, 'Popular Culture in Seventeenth-Century London', London Journal, 3 (1977), pp. 143-62. 9 Adam Smyth, 'Profit and Delight': Printed Miscellanies in England, 1640-1682 (Detroit, 2004), p. 54 ('readers" thoughts; the emphasis is his); see also John Manning, The Emblem (London, 2002), p. 47 on the emblem, literally the thing made from inserted or grafted objects, or fragments /spolia. Among students of late antique spolia, Dale Kinney has argued ('Spolia, damnatio, and renovatio memoriae' , Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome, 42 [1997 (1999)], pp. 117-48 [pp. 118-19]) for an expansion of the range of practices subsumed by the word to include all manner of recarving, recycling, and re-use. 10 Manning, Emblem, p. 47. See David Stocker, 'The Archaeology of the Reformation in Lincoln: a Case Study of the Redistribution of Building Materials in the Mid Sixteenth Century', Lincolnshire History and Archaeology, 25 (1990), pp. 18-32, for the 'new "architecture" of salvaged stone' (quotation p. 27) at St Mary's conduit head

(early 1540s) and the new south porch (1550s or 60s) at St Mark's parish church, both in Wigford, Lincoln; and David Stocker and Paul Everson, 'Rubbish Recycled: a Study of the Re-use of Stone in Lincolnshire', in Stone:

Quarrying and Building in England, ad 43-1525, ed. D. Parsons (Chichester, 1990), pp. 83-101, especially pp. 97-98, on the 'iconic' re-use of older ecclesiastical fragments at nineteenth- and twentieth-century parish churches. 11 B. Brenk, 'Spolia from Constantine to Charlemagne: Aesthetics versus Ideology', Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 41 (1987), pp. 103-09 (p. 105); see also Helen Saradi-Mendelovici, 'Christian Attitudes towards Pagan




Monuments in Late Antiquity and their Legacy in Later Byzantine Centuries', Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 44 (1990), pp. 47-61 (pp. 52-53). 'Descriptions of Byzantine churches praise the TioiKi^ia- [variety diversity] as a basic characteristic of their decoration.' (ibid., p. 53). Derek A. R. Moore, 'Notes on the Use of Spolia in Roman Architecture from Bramante to Bernini', in Architectural Studies in Memory of Richard Krautheimer, ed. Cecil L. Striker (Mainz, 1996), pp. 119-22, finds the same aesthetic in early modern Rome: see especially p. 122. 12 In addition to those adduced by Kinney, 'Spolia', pp. 137-40, see the more or less hypothetical instances in Vitruvius, Ten Books on Architecture, trans. Ingrid D. Rowland, ed. Thomas Noble Howe, Ingrid D. Rowland and Michael J. Dewar (Cambridge, 2001), p. 136 (the inclusion of caryatids in the Forum Augustum, Rome, were meant to indicate that it had 'been built "ex manubiis" [from the spoils of war]'); David Stocker, Tons Et Origo. The Symbolic Death, Burial and Resurrection of English Font Stones', Church Archaeology, 1 (1997), pp. 17-25 (p. 20: bases of medieval baptismal fonts carved to imitate the 'upturned, earlier font bowls' that actually served in this way); and Pierre de la Ruffiniere du Prey, Hawksmoor's London Churches: Architecture and Theology (Chicago and London, 2000), pp. 78-79, 90 (ornaments on Nicholas Hawksmoor's early eighteenth-century London churches were meant to evoke the 'primitive' Christian habit of recycling pagan stone). 13 For modern architecture, see Anthony Vidler, The Architectural Uncanny: Essays in the Modern Unhomely (Cambridge, Mass., and London, 1992), quotation p. ix; see also Dalibor Vesely 'Architecture and the Ambiguity of Fragment', in Architectural Associations: The Idea of the City, ed. Robin Middleton (London, 1996), pp. 109-21, and Robin Middleton, 'Soane's Spaces and the Matter of Fragmentation', in John Soane Architect: Master of Light and Space, ed. Margaret Richardson and Mary Anne Stevens (London, 1999), pp. 26-37. 14 Gerbier, Interpreter, p. 175; see also note 23 below. On the date of publication, which may have been 1649, see Eileen Harris and Nicholas Savage, British Architectural Books and Writers 1556-1785 (Cambridge, 1990), p. 208; on the school, which opened in July 1649 and closed a year later, see Charles Webster, The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine and Reform 1626-1660 (London, 1975), pp. 219-20, and Jeremy Wood, 'Gerbier, Sir Balthazar (1592-1663/1667)', Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, accessed 15 October 2004 at <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/1o562>. 15 Gerbier, Interpreter, p. 165, his point being that books and medals (the latter subject to theft and /or melting down) are frail by comparison. On medals as historical evidence, see Christine Stevenson, 'Robert Hooke, Monuments, and Memory', Art History, 28 (2005), pp. 43-73 (p. 63). 16 I.i.5-6: Vitruvius, The Ten Books on Architecture, trans. Morris Hickey Morgan (1914), reprint edn (New York, i960), pp. 8, 6. 17 I am paraphrasing Mark Wilson Jones, 'Doric Figuration', in Body and Building. Essays on the Changing Relation of Body and Architecture, ed. George Dodds and Robert Tavernor (Cambridge, Mass., and London, 2002), pp. 64-77 (p- 75)- 18 Alina A. Payne, The Architectural Treatise in the Italian Renaissance: Architectural Invention, Ornament, and Literary Culture (New York and Cambridge, 1999), p. 45. 19 David Watkin (ed.), Sir John Soane: the Royal Academy Lectures (Cambridge, 2000), p. 69. See Charles Burroughs, 'The Building's Face and the Herculean Paradigm: Agendas and Agency in Roman Renaissance Architecture', Res, 23 (1993), pp. 7-30 on the use of caryatids, etc., to inscribe 'power relations in architectural formations, even against the background of assertions of the transcendent basis and universal validity of the classical architectural system' (p. 8). 20 John Phillips, The Reformation of Images: the Destruction of Art in England 1535-1665 (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London, 1973), pp. jy, 82, 88-89. Gerbier 's alertness to the theological problem of images is evident in the preceding section of the Interpreter, 'Of Carving or Sculpture' (pp. 165-70). While he did summarize two other 'opinions concerning the origine of Column's' (p. 174), these explain them as representations of persons (the Tuscan is /as Hercules) or plants (Corinthian leaves). 21 John Shute, The First and Chief Groundes of Architecture, facs. edn. with an introduction by Lawrence Weaver (London, 1912), sig. Biii. Vitruvius (Li. 6: Ten Books, trans. Morgan, p. 7) wrote that the porch was built with money raised from the sale of the 'spoils and booty', and hence its connexion to the real spoils was literal as well as mimetic: Kinney, 'Spolia', p. 120 comments on the general practice. 22 George L. Hersey The Lost Meaning of Classical Architecture: Speculations on Ornament from Vitruvius to Venturi (Cambridge, Mass., and London, 1988), pp. 149-50, 181 n. 1, y^ (quotation); on Palladio, see Payne, Architectural Treatise, pp. 175-81. Mario Carpo (Architecture in the Age of Printing: Orality, Writing, Topography, and Printed Images in the History of Architectural Theory [Cambridge, Mass., 2001], p. 100) has similarly




described the Cinquecento's 'reinvention of Vitruvius as a strict rationalist, a severe censor of all superfluous decoration, a Puritan'. Lydia M. Soo (ed.), Wren's 'Tracts' on Architecture and Other Writings (Cambridge, 1998) pp. 128, 156-57, 158-59, 157. The orders were the 'fruit of constructional logic mediated by aesthetic experience': Wilson Jones, 'Doric Figuration', p. 68 (not writing about Wren specifically, but it is a good summary of Wren's position). 23 Balthazar Gerbier, A Brief Discourse Concerning the Three Chief Principles of Magnificent Building. Viz. Solidity, Conveniency, and Ornament (London, 1662), pp. 7, 2, 4. The architectural distinction, such as it is, becomes muddled in his Counsel and Advise [sic] to All Builders, first published 1663: see pp. 4, 108-09 m tne edition appended to the 1664 edition of the Discourse. Gerbier used his discussion of 'ornament' in the latter to rehearse, with minor changes (columns now explicitly represent 'the number of slaves which they had taken' [my emphasis], and the reference to medals is omitted) the passage he had published in the Interpreter of 1648 (or 1649), quoted at note 14, above. Harris and Savage have suggested (British Architectural Books, p. 206) that the Brief Discourse and Counsel and Advise represent the architecture lectures that Gerbier failed to publish along with his others in 1649-50. 24 Joseph Moxon, Mechanick Exercises on the Whole Art of Printing (1683-84), ed. Herbert Davies and Harry Carter, 2nd edn (1958), repr. (New York, 1978), p. 8. He was describing typesetting, as opposed to the older practice of 'carving whole Pages in Wood'. 25 Roy Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals 1450-1650 (Woodbridge, 1984), pp. 21-22, and H. M. C. Purkis (ed.), La Magnifique Entree de Frangois d'Anjou en sa ville d'Anvers (1582), facs. ed., Renaissance Triumphs series, ed. Margaret McGowan (Amsterdam, [1973]), pp. 23-24. 26 Stephen Harrison, The Arch's of Triumph Erected in Honor of the High and Mighty Prince James the First of That Name, King of England, and the Sixth of Scotland, at His Maiesties Entrance and Passage Through His Honorable Citty & Chamber of London Upon the 15th Day of March 1603I/4] ([London]: Stephen Harrison, 1604), 'Lectori Candido' ('to the honest reader'), sig. K. On Harrison's book, see Antony Griffiths, with the assistance of Robert A. Gerard, The Print in Stuart Britain 1603-1689 (London, 1997), pp. 44-45, cat. 3; Bernard Adams, London Illustrated 1604-1851: A Survey and Index of Topographical Books and their Plates (London, 1983), pp. 3-6, no. 1; and Harris and Savage, British Architectural Books, pp. 229-31. 27 John Ogilby, Africa. Being an Accurate Description of the Regions of /Egypt, Barbary, Lybia, and Billedulgerid ... (London, 1670), 'Preface'. Many copies of the Entertainment and Ogilby's other books had burned in the fire of 1666. 28 John Ogilby, The Entertainment of His Most Excellent Majestie Charles II in his Passage through the City of London to his Coronation (1662), repr. edn. (Binghamton, NY, 1988), p. 25. 29 Dates henceforth will be given in the modern way (as if the year began on 1 January: 1604, that is, not 1603/4) but without conversion to the modern (Gregorian) calendar. 30 Jonson and Dekker, but not Harrison, describe this structure, for which Jonson wrote the programme: Richard Dutton (ed.), Jacobean Civic Pageants (Keele, 1995), pp. 107-08, 113. 31 The Netherlandish arch: ibid., p. 58. 32 Ibid., pp. 23-25. The best introduction to the day's events is Graham Parry, The Golden Age Restor d: the Culture of the Stuart Court, 1603-42 (Manchester, 1981), pp. 1-21. 33 Gervase Hood, 'A Netherlandic Triumphal Arch for James I', in Across the Narrow Seas: Studies in the History and Bibliography of Britain and the Low Countries presented to Anna E. C. Simoni, ed. Susan Roach (London, 1991), pp. 67-82; Ole Peter Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph: Dutch Pageants and Stuart Coronations', in Calvinist Exiles in Tudor and Stuart London (Aldershot, Hants, 1996), pp. 163-90 (pp. 165-74); Gervase Hood, 'The Netherlandic Community in London and Patronage of Painters and Architects in Early Stuart London', in Dutch and Flemish Artists in Britain. Leids Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek XII, ed. Juliette Roding et al. (Leiden, 2003), pp. 43-56 (pp. 46-51). 34 Gilbert Dugdale, The Time Triumphant, Declaring in Briefe, the Armival of our Soveraigne lieage Lord, King James into England ... shewing also, the Varieties & Rarieties of allll the Sundry Trophies or Pageants, erected by the

Worthy Citizens of the honorable Cittie of London: and by Certain of Other Nations, Namely, Italian, Dutch and French ... (London, 1604), sigs B3, B4V. 35 Harrison, Arch's of Triumph, on the supporters for the arms on the Italian's arch (sig. D) and the Temple of Janus (sig. *I); alternatively, perhaps, 'in great' (the corner figures on the Italian arch). Compare Dekker's

'satyrs carved out in wood' at the Garden of Plenty (Dutton, Jacobean Civic Pageants, p. 78). 36 Ibid., p. 45.




37 Illustrating arches' plans also served to align them with classical antiquity, in so far as Serlio had done the same for their Roman prototypes: Sebastiano Serlio, Tutte Vopere d ' architettura et prospetiva, di Sebastiano Serlio ... (1619), repr. edn (New York, 1964), m, e.g. fols 101 v, 105V. But illustrative convention was also at work, in as much as, at least in the sixteenth-century Netherlands, the same printers and publishers produced treatises and entry books: Jochen Becker, '"Greater Than Zeuxis and Apelles": Artists as Arguments in the Antwerp Entry of 1549', in Court Festivals of the European Renaissance: Art, Politics and Performance, ed. J. R. Mulryne and Elizabeth Goldring (Aldershot, Hants, 2002), pp. 171-95 (pp. 175-77)- Adams, oddly, identifies the plan illustrated in my Figure 3 as 'a diagram of the tenon and mortise used in construction' (London Illustrated, p. 5). The present essay, however, owes much to his note of the interest of the relationship between Harrison's training, the ornament on the title-page, and the naming of the 'arches ... as "pegmes", that is jointed scaffolds'. 38 Harrison, Arch's of Triumph, sig. *C 39 Dutton, Jacobean Civic Pageants, p. 58; Dugdale, Time Triumphant, sig. B3V. Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', p. 168 gives the dimensions as 87 feet high, 37 broad, and 22 deep, presumably on the authority of Jansen's Beschryvinghe. 40 Dugdale, Time Triumphant, sig. B2V. 41 Ibid., sigs B2V, B3V. 42 Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', p. 174. 43 Dutton, Jacobean Civic Pageants, p. 46. 44 Lucy Gent, 'The "Rash Gazer": Economies of Vision in Britain, 1550-1660', in Albion's Classicism: the Visual Arts in Britain, 1550-1660, ed. Lucy Gent (New Haven and London, 1995), pp. 377-93 (p. 381); see also Arciszewska, 'Classicism', pp. 14-15. For the cost of the arches, see Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', p. 168. 45 Harris and Savage, British Architectural Books, p. 230 summarize Per Palme's argument to this effect. 46 Howard Colvin, 'Pompous Entries and English Architecture', in Essays in English Architectural History (New Haven and London, 1999), pp. 67-93, quoting John Peacock on p. 75. 47 Payne, Architectural Treatise, pp. 119-20; Alina Payne, 'Reclining Bodies: Figural Ornament in Renaissance Architecture', in Body and Building, ed. Dodds and Tavernor, pp. 94-113 (p. 99). 48 'In Fenchurch Street was erected a stately Trophie or Pageant ...' (phrasing repeated in the pamphlet's title): Dugdale, Time Triumphant, sig. B2v; see ibid., sig. B3V for the variety. For the etymology of 'pageant', Christine Stevenson, 'Antimasque, Pageant: Restoration and Bethlem at Moorfields', Res, 47 (Spring 2005), pp. 19-37 (p- 21). 49 Harrison, Arch's of Triumph, 'Lectori Candido'. Jonson also used 'pegme' for the first arch, on which he had worked: Dutton, Jacobean Civic Pageants, pp. 37, 45. 50 Adams, London Illustrated, p. 3; by extension, the word could also mean the inscriptions the structures often bore. Harrison used 'pegme' or 'arch' in contradistinction to 'Scaffold' (Arch's of Triumph, 'Lectori Candido'). 51 As Jansen's Beschryvinghe explains: Hood, 'Netherlands Community', p. 49. 52 Adam Nicolson, Power and Glory: Jacobean England and the Making of the King James Bible (London, 2003), pp. 68-69; thanks to Jane Kromm for this reference. 53 The canvases made for the Dutch arch at Charles Fs abortive entry of 1625 were sold at public auction a couple of years later (Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', p. 180) and in ordering the carver Gerard Christmas to demolish the City's arches in 1626 the Court of Aldermen granted him the materials as part payment (David M. Bergeron, 'Charles I's Royal Entries into London', Guildhall Miscellany, 3 [1970], pp. 91-97 [p. 93])- In 1635 the Antwerp contracts specified that the arches and pegmata (stages) were to be left standing for six weeks: Julius S. Held, The Oil Sketches of Peter Paul Rubens: A Critical Catalogue, 2 vols (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1980), 11, 225. The London arches of 1661 stood for a year or so before being sold off: Ronald Knowles, 'Introduction' to Ogilby's Entertainment, p. 41; Eric Halfpenny, "The Citie's Loyalty Display'd" (A Literary and Documentary Causerie of Charles II's Coronation "Entertainment")', Guildhall Miscellany, 10 (1959), pp. 19-35 (p- 34-)- Compare, however, J. D. Loach, 'Pageant and Festival Arts', Grove Art Online, accessed 21 November 2005 via <http://www.groveart.com>, sect. 2, which, in discussing the dispersal of the materials, emphasizes the speed with which festival structures were dismounted, and its implications: 'Speed of erection and ease of demountability were ... more crucial than economy, since the architectural supports of the idealized world should be able to appear and then disappear.' 54 Matthew Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate: From Medieval to the Renaissance (London, 2002), p. 127; Tim Eaton, Plundering the Past: Roman Stonework in Medieval Britain (Stroud, Glos, 2000), especially pp. 11, 134-36. The




Gdansk city council re-used entire arches: Marina Dmitrievna-Einhorn, "Ephemeral Ceremonial Architecture in Prague, Vienna, and Cracow in the Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries', in Court Festivals of the European Renaissance, ed. Mulryne and Goldring, pp. 363-90 (p. 383); see also Loach, 'Pageants', sect. 2. Peter Ho well's forthcoming book on triumphal arches (from which he has kindly given me extracts) discusses the way in which entire arch frameworks for the seventeenth-century possesso, the newly-elected pope's ceremonial progress from the Vatican to the Lateran, were not only re-used but hired out, too; ornamental parts from another arch, designed by Carlo Rainaldi, went into a temporary high altar in the church of Gesu e Maria on the Corso in 1675. Although dealing with a programme from the 1520s, David Starkey's demonstration ('Ightham Mote: Politics and Architecture in Early Tudor England', Archaeologia, 107 [1982], pp. 153-63) of Sir Richard Clement's recycling at Ightham Mote, Kent, of painted wooden panels from some kind of occasional, royal structure is highly pertinent. Such materials were customarily held in the Revels stores prior to their re-use, adaptation, or disposal as gifts to favoured courtiers like Clement. ^ Held, Oil Sketches, 1, 225. Peter Davidson, 'The Theatrum for the Entry of Claudia de'Medici and Federigo Ubaldo della Rovere into Urbino, 1621', in Court Festivals of the European Renaissance, ed. Mulryne and Goldring, pp. 311-34 (pp. 311-13), discusses late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century paintings surviving from comparable structures erected in Italy and Scotland. 56 Harrison, Arch's of Triumph, sig. I*. ^j The connexion between ancient and modern arches was made explicit by the 1611 translation of Sebastiano Serlio's Books of Architecture. While we no longer erect 'Arches Triumphant of Marble or of other Stones', a model for the more ephemeral kind, 'adorned and painted in most curious man[n]er', would interest citizens who might have to welcome 'any great personage'. Sebastiano Serlio, The Five Books of Architecture: an Unabridged Reprint of the English Edition of 1611 (New York, 1982), iv, 8, fols ̂v, 56. 58 Leon Battista Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books, ed. and trans. Joseph Rykwert, Neil Leach and Robert Tavernor (Cambridge, Mass., and London, 1988), vm, 6, p. 265; compare Payne, Architectural Treatise, p. 279 n. 22. 59 Alberti, Art of Building, vm, 6, p. 268. 60 Ibid., p. 402: editors' note. 61 Jones alluded, in a marginal note in a copy of Palladio's Quattro Libri, to 'Constantines time when Architecture was much falen and they yoused to build wth fragmentes of Antike buildinges as in his Arch': Harold Bruce Allsopp (ed.), Inigo Jones on Palladio, Being the Notes by Inigo Jones in the Copy of I Quattro Libri dell'architettura di Andrea Palladio, 2602, in the Library of Worcester College, Oxford, 2 vols, 1 Preface, Notes and Transcriptions (Newcastle upon Tyne, 1970), p. ^ (Quattro Libri, iv, 61); see John Peacock and Christy Anderson, Tnigo Jones, John Webb and Temple Bar', Essays in Architectural History presented to John Newman, Architectural History, 44 (2001), pp. 29-38, on p. 33. 62 Kinney, 'Spolia1 ', p. 120 (quotation); Joseph Alchermes, 'Spolia in Roman Cities of the Late Empire: Legislative Rationales and Architectural Reuse', Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 48 (1994), pp. 167-78, on p. 167. 63 Serlio, Five Books, in, 4, fol. 49V. The translator, working from a Dw£c/z-language edition, was perhaps Robert Peake, sen.: Leona Rostenberg, English Publishers in the Graphic Arts 1599-1700: a Study of the Printsellers & Publishers of Engravings, Art & Architectural Manuals, Maps & Copy-Books (New York, 1963), p. 23. His

emphasis on what builders will get up to on their own accord is more revealing, for present purposes, than Serlio's original emphasis on the licentiousness of architects, not workmen: '... ben e vero chegli ornamenti della

maggior parte de li archi di Roma si allontanano molto da gli scritti di Vitruvio, & questo penso io procedere, che detti archi sonofatti di spoglie d'altri edifici, & ancofurse che gli Architettori furono licentiosi, ny havendo molto rispetto alle osservanze, per esser cose per uso di trionfi, & forsefatti con prestezza.' Serlio, Tutte I'opere, 111, fol. 99V. 64 He continued, 'but as to outward appearance solid and very stately': The Diary of John Evelyn Esquire F.R.S. (London and New York, n.d.), p. 120, for 23 November 1644. 65 From Webb's 1660 petition for the Surveyorship. John Bold, John Webb: Architectural Theory and Practice in the Seventeenth Century (Oxford, 1989), p. 181 transcribes 'A Breife of Mr Webbs case' supporting the 1660

petition. See note 1 in the Appendix for Gerbier's use of 'Building' this way. 66 E. Baldwin Smith, The Architectural Symbolism of Imperial Rome and the Middle Ages (1956), repr. edn (New York, 1978), p. 22. 67 John Evelyn's London Redivivum (1666), for example, proposes building a City gate 'in manner [sic] of a

triumphal arch, in honour of our illustrious Monarch': Writings, ed. Guy de la Bedoyere (Woodbridge, Suffolk, 1995), pp. 333-45 (P- 341)-




68 Nicola Smith, The Royal Image and the English People (Aldershot, Hants, 2001), p. 97 (quotation), 103-07; see also Katharine Gibson, '"Best belov'd of Kings'': the Iconography of Charles II', 3 vols (Ph.D. dissertation, University of London, Courtauld Institute of Art, 1997), 1, 168, and Walter George Bell, Unknown London, and More about Unknown London (London, 1951), pp. 112-13. Emily Mann, 'The Gates of London in the Seventeenth Century' (MA. thesis, Courtauld Institute of Art, 2003), makes the point (p. 17) about the architectural differences between the gates and the 1604 arches. I am very grateful to Emily Mann for allowing me to cite her unpublished thesis. 69 Smith, Royal Image, pp. 104, 106, 107. 70 R Colsoni, Le Guide de Londres pour les estrangers ... (1693), facs. ed. Walter H. Godfrey (London, 1951), p. 33, 'pour donner de la terreur aux Spectateurs, & de la crainte aux Medians'. Oliver Creighton and Robert Higham, Medieval Town Walls: An Archaeology and Social History of Urban Defence (Stroud, Glos, 2005) mention the display of heads (p. 171) as part of their illuminating discussions of the 'social and judicial functions' of English town gates and their ornamentation (pp. 139-43, 168~73). 71 A letter (not dated, but before 1592) from the Lord Mayor to the Privy Council explains that recent damage to Cheap Cross had been effected 'by light persons who had pilfered a little lead ... and not for any public defacement' (my emphasis), which would have been directed to the images' faces. W. H. Overall (ed.), Analytical Index to the Series of Records known as the Remembrancia. Preserved among the Archives of the City of London, ad 1579-1664 (London, 1888), pp. 65-66. Pre-i64os attacks on the gates' royal imagery were admittedly rare: see Stow, Survey of London, p. 54, and Smith, Royal Image, pp. 49, 101 for that on Ludgate. 72 Quoted (from the Repertory of the Court of Aldermen and the Journal of the Court of Common Council, variously) in Bergeron, 'Charles I's Royal Entries', pp. 91-92, 93, 95. 73 Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', p. 168; see also pp. 163-64 for such occasions' importance to the Dutch community. Hood, 'Netherlandic Community', pp. 46, 48-49, 53. Although the Venetian ambassadors extraordinary wrote that three arches were erected 'by divers other nations' (Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts, Relating to English Affairs, Existing in the Archives and Collection of Venice, and in Other Libraries of Northern Italy 1625-26 [henceforth, 'CSPVen'], ed. Allen B. Hinds [London, 1913], pp. 462-64, for 3 July 1626), the City's own records (quoted Bergeron, 'Charles I's Royal Entries', p. 93) refer to its three pageants. 74 Ibid., p. 92, quotes the letter written by the Earl of Pembroke on the king's behalf on 25 May. 75 CSPVen 1625-26, pp. 462-64, for 3 July 1626. 76 Anthony Weldon, The Court and Character of King James whereunto is now added The Court of King Charles: Continued unto the Beginning of these Unhappy Times: with some Observations upon Him Instead of a Character (London, 1651), p. 177; see also Bergeron, 'Charles I's Royal Entries', p. 93. Compare p. 194 in the anonymous The None-Such Charles His Character ... (London, 1651), attributed to Gerbier by Wood, 'Gerbier'. 77 John Harris and Gordon Higgott, Inigo Jones: Complete Architectural Drawings (London, 1989), p. 252. Peacock and Anderson have observed (Tnigo Jones', p. 32) that Jones, 'aware that the Arch of Constantine was a pastiche, used the same method in composing his modern imitation of it'. That is, roundels ('enlarged paraphrases of Roman medals') and 'oblong panels bearing figurative imagery have been pasted into holes specially cut for them' on the drawing, in at least one instance (the oblong at lower right) because the first version was rejected and excised. 78 Ibid., p. 29; on this design, see also Harris and Higgott, Inigo Jones, pp. 251-53, and Smith, Royal Image, p. 107, who notes the coin-medallions' resemblance to those on Aldgate (Fig. 9), too. 79 Ibid., pp. 104, 106, 107. On the foundation myth, see Manley, Literature and Culture, pp. 26, 173, 182-85. 80 Overall, Analytical Index to the ... Remembrancia, p. 499. It is not clear which party was to have paid for the rebuilding, on which see Smith, Royal Image, pp. 108-09; Peacock and Anderson, Tnigo Jones', p. 33; Vaughan Hart, Art and Magic in the Court of the Stuarts (London and New York, 1994), pp. 169, 171-72. 81 Harrison's wording is not clear but the Bar probably formed the Temple's base (ibid., p. 30). 82 Peacock and Anderson, Tnigo Jones', p. 29; King of Denmarkes Welcome, p. 17. 83 For instances, George R. Kernodle, Prom Art to Theatre: Form and Convention in the Renaissance (Chicago, 1944), pp. 72, 73; Derek Keene and Vanessa Harding, 'St Mary Colechurch 105/36: St Mary Colechurch: the Great Conduit', Historical Gazetteer of London before the Great Fire: Cheapside. Parishes of All Hallows Honey Lane, St Martin Pomary, St Mary le Bow, St Mary Colechurch, and St Pancras Soper Lane, pp. 612-16, accessed 16 April 2005 at <http:/ / www.british-history.ac.uk /report.asp?compid=2536>; David M. Bergeron, 'Venetian State Papers and English Civic Pageantry, 1558-1642', Renaissance Quarterly, 23 (1970), pp. 37-47, on p. 39. 84 Smith, Royal Image, pp. 51, 52; Derek Keene, Cheapside before the Great Fire (London, 1985), p. 8.




85 See the map in Manley, Literature and Culture, pp. 226-27, an<^ generally his Chapter 2, 'Scripts for the Pageants: The Ceremonies of London', pp. 212-93. The coinage 'processional landscape' is Dell Upton's {Holy Things and Profane: Anglican Parish Churches in Colonial Virginia, paper edn [New Haven and London, 1997], p. 213). 86 In 1637 the Cross was also 'deemed an appropriate spot to paste up an attack on the "Arch-Wolf" of Canterbury', Archbishop Laud: Smith, Royal Image, pp. 54-58 (quotation p. 56). With David Cressy, 'The Downfall of Cheapside Cross: Vandalism, Ridicule and Iconoclasm', in Travesties and Transgressions in Tudor and Stuart England: Tales of Discord and Dissension (Oxford, 2000), pp. 234-50, and Joel Budd, 'Rethinking Iconoclasm in Early Modern England: the case of Cheapside Cross', Journal of Early Modern History, 4, pp. 379-404. Smith's is the best introduction to the Cross's vicissitudes. 87 'Ryhen Pameach', A Dialogue Between the Crosse in Cheap, and Charing Crosse. Comforting each other, as Fearing their Fall in these Uncertaine Times ([London]: 1641), sig. A3r; The Downe-Fall of D agon, or the Taking Downe of Cheap-Side Cross this Second of May, 1643 •■• ([London], 1643) (the title is ironic, Dagon being the idol that fell before the Ark of the Covenant: 1 Sam. 5). Evelyn, Diary, p. 30 (for 2 May 1643). See also Julie Spraggon, Puritan Iconoclasm during the English Civil War: the Attack on Religious Imagery by Parliament and its Soldiers (Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2003), pp. 42-46, 60, 174. 88 Ibid., pp. 73, 83-98, quotation p. 84. 89 Smith, Royal Image, p. 168. 90 John Sutton, 'Porous Memory and the Cognitive Life of Things', accessed 6 April 2005 at <http://www.phil.mq.edu.au/staff/jsutton/CognitiveLifeOfThings.htm> (my warm thanks to Professor Sutton for guiding me to this essay, published in print form in 2002), and Stevenson, 'Robert Hooke', p. 45 (embodied memories); Adrian Forty, 'Introduction', in The Art of Forgetting, ed. Adrian Forty and Susanne Kuchler (Oxford and New York, 1999), pp. 1-18 (pp. 1, 2, 10-12, 15: the destruction of the artefact that is the analogue of human memory). 91 'Pameach', A Dialogue, sigs A2, A2r; Cressy, 'Downfall of Cheapside Cross', pp. 235, 242 comments on the gendering. 92 As well as from the ordinary practice of recycling construction materials whenever possible: see, e.g., Adrian Tinniswood, Belton House, Lincolnshire (London, 1996), p. 11 on the preparations for building Belton in 1684. On Somerset House, see Gordon Higgott, 'The Fabric to 1670', in St Paul's. The Cathedral Church of London 604-2004, ed. Derek Keene, Arthur Burns and Andrew Saint (New Haven and London, 2004), pp. 171-89 (p. 171); see Malcolm Airs, The Tudor and Jacobean Country House: a Building History (Stroud, 1995), pp. 27-29, 135 on the general re-use of ecclesiastical stone. 93 Quoted Patrick Collinson, 'John Stow and Nostalgic Antiquarianism', in Imagining Early Modern London: Perceptions and Portrayals of the City from Stow to Strype 1598-1720, ed. J. F. Merritt (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 27-51 (pp. 40-41), from the 1603 edition of Stow's Survey of London. 94 A letter written ten days before the entry: 'just at His Majesty's departure will arise the form of the old Crosse, which anciently stood at the same place, at whose appearance [the figure of?] Presbytery vanisheth': Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts, Fifth Report (London, 1876), p. 175, also quoted Knowles, 'Introduction' to The Entertainment, pp. 17-18. Ogilby described nothing like this scene, but did explain the significance of the Temple of Concord's site: Entertainment, p. 111. 95 Spraggon, Puritan Iconoclasm, pp. 235, 251. 96 Ibid., p. 81; see also pp. 209-10, on soldiers' earlier targeting of royal images, including at Winchester, and

pp. 262-63, summarizing the anti-Stuart orders passed by the House of Commons between 1649 and 1651. Phillips, Reformation of Images, pp. 194-95, describes comparable examples of the 'erasure' of secular images. 97 Spraggon, Puritan Iconoclasm, p. 176. 98 For examples, ibid., pp. 110, 131, 172, 244, 245-46, 249, and Phillips, Reformation of Images, p. 188. 99 Smith, Royal Image, pp. 69, 70, 73; Gibson, '"Best belov'd of Kings'", 1, 76. 100 R. M. Ball, 'On the Statue of King Charles At Charing Cross', Antiquaries Journal, 67 (1987), pp. 97-101 (with further references); and Ronald Lightbown, 'Isaac Besnier, Sculptor to Charles I, and his Work for Court Patrons c. 1624-1634', in Art and Patronage in the Caroline Courts: Essays in Honour of Sir Oliver Millar, ed. David Howarth (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 132-67 (pp. 140-42). Other examples are Le Sueur's bronzes at Winchester Cathedral (Smith, Royal Image, pp. 72, 79-80, and Phillips, Reformation of Images, p. 195) and Oxford (Howard Colvin, The Canterbury Quadrangle St John's College Oxford [Oxford, 1988], p. 38), and the statue of Charles I on the fagade of the Guildhall Chapel (Katharine Gibson, '"The Kingdom's Marble Chronicle": the




Embellishment of the First and Second Buildings, 1600 to 1690', in The Royal Exchange, London Topographical Society Publications 152, ed. Ann Saunders [London, 1997], pp. 138-73 [p. 144]). 101 Interpreter, p. 165. 102 In Trafalgar Square. The present Charing Cross, in the forecourt of the train station, is a nineteenth- century replica commissioned by the South Eastern Railway Company. 103 Jonathan Sawday, 'Re-writing a Revolution: History, Symbol, and Text in the Restoration', Seventeenth Century, 7 (1992), pp. 171-99 (pp. 175, 185-86); N. H. Keeble, The Restoration: England in the 1660s (Oxford, 2002), pp. 54-55. 104 Samuel Pepys, The Diary of Samuel Pepys M.A., F.R.S. ..., 8 vols in 3 (London, 1926), 1, 86 (16 March 1660). 105 Ibid., 1, 122, 127 (7 May and 13 May 1660). 106 In the Declaration of Breda of 4 April 1660, which became the 'keystone of the Restoration policy' initially followed: Keeble, Restoration, pp. 68-70. On the statues, destroyed in the fire of 1666, see David Lloyd, Eikon Basilike, or, The True Pourtraicture of His Sacred Majesty Charles the II (London, 1660), pp. 67-68, and Ann Saunders, The Organisation of the Exchange', in The Royal Exchange, ed. Saunders, pp. 85-98 (pp. 96-98); on amnesties, see Stevenson, 'Robert Hooke', pp. 47-48. 107 Pepys, Diary, 2: 5 (9 April 1661); see Claire Tomalin, Samuel Pepys: the Unequalled Self (London, 2003), 124. Batten had served as Surveyor of the Navy under both Charles I and the Commonwealth. 108 Keeble, Restoration, p. 56. On the law, see Edward Coke, The Third Part of the Institutes of the Eaw of England concerning High Treason and other Pleas of the Crown and Criminal Causes (London, 1669), p. 211: 'quod caput & quarteria ilia ponantur ubi dominus rex ea assignare vult' . Thanks to Georgia Clarke for her help with the Latin. 109 'Preparations for the Coronation of King Charles the Second, with Accounts of the Several Preceding Coronations' (1660), BL Stowe MS 580.1, fol. 17; compare fol. 4V, where, at the first recorded Whitehall meeting about the coronation (26 September 1660), it is clear that the City parade was considered optional for the king. 110 Burroughs, 'The Building's Face', p. 8; see note 19 above. 111 Paul Hammond, 'The King's Two Bodies: Representations of Charles IF, in Culture, Politics and Society in Britain, 1660-1800, ed. Jeremy Black and James Gregory (Manchester, 1991), pp. 13-48 (p. 13). 112 Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series (henceforth cited as 'CSPD') 1660-1661, ed. Mary Anne Everett Green (London, i860), pp. 500, 506. 113 Joyce Lee Malcolm, 'Charles II and the Reconstruction of Historical Power', Historical journal, 35 (1992), pp. 307-30 (p. 317). 114 Keeble, Restoration, pp. 56-57. 115 [James Heath], Flagellum, or, the Eife and Death, Birth and Burial of O. Cromwell the Eate Usurper Faithfully Described: with an Exact Account of his Policies and Successes: Enlarged with Many Additions (London, 1672), p. 192. On these events, see also Sawday, 'Re-writing a Revolution', pp. 187-93; Hammond, 'The King's Two Bodies', p. 17; and Keeble, Restoration, pp. 56-57, who points out that the parliamentary Order makes no mention of decapitations or display. 116 An estimate calculated (at Kerry Downes's suggestion) on the basis that in Figure 14 the woman is shown one-eleventh as tall as her height above the ground. Ogilby's description {Entertainment, pp. 36-37) does not jibe precisely with this engraving: he has four 'Figures' in 'Niches' of which this one carries a 'Shield', not banner, symbolically representing the evil effects of the Solemn League and Covenant. The drawing does show sketches of niches, in pen and wash, where the engraving shows trompe Voeil paintings of ruinous structures. 117 Quoted Knowles, Introduction to The Entertainment, p. 17. Judi Loach tells me that many continental printed 'treatises show arches, etc. with blanks where the designer was free to insert images and texts' and drawings of early stages in arches' designs often show such blanks too (pers. comm.). 118 Knowles, Introduction to The Entertainment, pp. 19-20. 119 John Ogilby, The Relation of His Majestie's Entertainment Passing through the City of Eondon, to His Coronation, with a Description of the Triumphal Arches, and Solemnity (London, 1661), p. 3; Ogilby, Entertainment, p. 21 calls the painting 'a Trophy with decollated Heads' . 120 Halfpenny, '"Citie's Loyalty Display'd"', p. 34. 121 Ogilby, Relation, facing title-page (reprinting the royal warrant granted to him on 11 April 1661, for which see also CSPD 1660-1661, p. 553) and p. 32. 122 Ibid. 123 See note 65, above, for Webb and note 1 in the Appendix for Gerbier.




124 Geoffrey Fisher, pers. comm. of 2 November 2005. In his judgement, with which I concur, the drawings' status is that of 'presentation drawings illustrating proposals, as distinct from drawings in which the designer is working out his ideas, or drawings made for the use of the makers of the arches, or drawings made after the event for the use of an engraver'. 125 Halfpenny, '"Citie's Loyalty Display'd"', pp. 19-20, discusses the time frame, on which see also BL Stowe MS 580.1, the records of the initial deliberations at court. Documentary evidence relating to the entry on 22 April 1661, as opposed to the next day's coronation, is rather thin. That the first was considered the City's prerogative is suggested by Sir Edward Walker, Garter's, descriptions of the pageants: 'Thus I have given a breife touch of all those Arches Triumphall, it being the worke of many sheets to discribe them, & no part my design or busines[s] ...': A Circumstantial Account of the Preparations for the Coronation of His Majesty King Charles II (London, 1820), p. yy. Halfpenny, ibid., closely summarizes the accounts (EXGL MSS 289, 290) now in the London Metropolitan Archives, in which Mills' s name does not appear, although Ogilby's does. The latter 's Relation lists twenty-two members of the 'Committee for the Coronation' established by the Court of Common Council for supervising the 'Entertainments' (mentioning its fund-raising abilities in particular), but an initial search of the LMA, including the relevant Journal of the Court (LMA, vol. 41X) has yielded no trace of its activities. 126 Knowles, Introduction to The Entertainment, p. 17; Malcolm, 'Charles IF, pp. 319, 321. 127 Gloucester, Coventry, Northampton, Taunton, and Leicester: ibid., p. 327. 128 Fredson Bowers, 'Ogilby's Coronation Entertainment (1661-1689): Editions and Issues', Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America, 47 (1953), pp. 339-55 (p. 350). 129 Ogilby, Entertainment, pp. 22, 2, 3. 130 Ibid., pp. 4, 5, 13. 131 The king had in January 1661 felt compelled to assure his citizens that the Act of Pardon was still in effect, blaming the 'enthusiasm of his soldiers for their overstepping the bounds': Malcolm, 'Charles II', p. 326. 132 Jas Eisner, Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph: the Art of the Roman Empire ad 100-450, Oxford History of Art (Oxford, 1998), p. 82. 133 Kerry Dowries, The Architecture of Wren, 2nd edn ([Reading], 1988), p. 124 n. 143, part of a summary of the evidence for Wren's authorship. See now, however, Emily Mann's essay in the present volume. 134 The Swiss-roll comparison is copyright Tom Foxall. The resemblance is now even stronger as the restored Temple Bar at St Paul's Churchyard has regained the sculpted heraldic supporters that originally stood where the flag-waving statues (which is what, this time, they seem to be) of the Continents stand on the 1661 arch. 135 In June 1667, for example, 'de Gomme sent a letter to the Earl of Bath [Groom of the Stool and Governor of Plymouth] with the proviso that if his lordship had left town, Lord Arlington should open it and show it to the King, "because it concerns the Plymouth fortifications'": Andrew Saunders, Fortress Builder: Bernard de Gomme, Charles IV s Military Engineer (Exeter, 2004), p. 125, part of an exhaustive account of the Plymouth refortification whose focus is not, however, the gate except in so far as it stood as a 'symbol of royal power' (p. 128). On the 1671 visit, see Brian Weiser, Charles II and the Politics of Access (Woodbridge, Suffolk, 2003), pp. 99-102. 136 Gibson, '"Best belov'd of Kings'", 1, 166. 137 Saunders, Fortress Builder, p. 82: de Gomme settled in the Bevis Marks area. Grell, 'Tribute and Triumph', pp. 182-84 explains the Dutch consistory's wariness of arches, at least early in 1661: together with the French Protestants it agreed, after negotiation, to make the gift. 138 Kinney, 'Spolia' , p. 140. Although Temple Bar's upper central pilasters float over a void, the solecism seems to have been conventional for the City type (compare Moorgate, rebuilt around the same time) and appears to me less wilfully egregious than the dislocation of the upper Plymouth order. 139 The aesthetic of spolia might usefully be accommodated within Lucy Gent's influential hypothesis of two 'economies' of architectural vision operating in early modern Britain, one seeking the immutability of 'spaces created out of numerical proportion', and the other, rich textures and other diversions. 'The "Rash Gazer"', p. 390: Tf you gaze into the spaces created out of numerical proportion, you are raised out of mutability into an immaterial sphere that is above change, like arithmetical proportion itself. ... if you gaze at texture and the non-mathematical - tapestry, bricks, or flowers - you are in a way implicated in their decay.' 140 John Spurr, England in the 1670s: 'This Masquerading Age (Oxford, 2000), pp. 133-34; Peter Earle, The Economy of London, 1660-1730', in Urban Achievement in Early Modern Europe: Golden Ages in Antwerp, Amsterdam and London, ed. Patrick O'Brien et al. (Cambridge, 2001), 81-96 (pp. 85-86, 91).




APPENDIX

BALTHAZAR GERBIER AND THE ARCHES ERECTED FOR CHARLES Il'S

CORONATION ENTRY INTO THE CITY OF LONDON (l66l)

Balthazar Gerbier was interested in arches - 'Building as for Magnificent Showes' was among the subjects on his academy's syllabus1 - and had opportunities to become relatively expert in them. After moving in 1616 to London from the Netherlands, where his parents were Huguenot emigres, Gerbier married Deborah Kip, the daughter of William, who had engraved the illustrations for Stephen Harrison's The Arch's of Triumph (Fig. 3), commemorating James I and VFs London entry of 1604. In the course of an extraordinarily varied and important career as miniature painter, architect, and art agent to the first Duke of Buckingham and Charles I, for whom he also acted as a political emissary, Gerbier found himself in Antwerp when, in 1635, another great entry was mounted for the new Hapsburg Governor of the South Netherlands; his friend Peter Paul Rubens designed the triumphal arches and the stages.2 The self- exculpatory Baltazar [sic] Gerbier Knight To all Men that Loves Truth (1646) also claims that his 'contryving of scenes, Masques, Shows and entertainments for greate Princes' were among the skills besides 'Architecture' with which he had served Buckingham.3 Whether or not it was Gerbier who designed Buckingham's triumphal York House water gate (1626), which still stands in Victoria Embankment Gardens, he did welcome the return of Charles II with a design for a 'Sumptuous Gate' at Temple Bar.4 If, however, as is generally believed, he took a hand in the design of the four arches for Charles II's coronation entry into London on 22 April 1661, his contribution was not documented. This seems like an occasion to review the evidence.

Generally speaking, as Judi Loach has shown, we can think of such events as created at three levels.5 What was in 1661 called the 'Poetical part', first, comprised the rhetorical schemes devised by the likes of Ben Jonson and Thomas Dekker for James I, and John Ogilby for Charles II.6 Artist-architects like Stephen Harrison and Conrad Jensen translated these schemes into designs to be detailed and executed, finally, by carpenters, painters, joiners, and carvers; they might also oversee the construction. Ogilby's first account of the 1661 entry, the Relation published that year, names the chief artisans, but attributes the 'Architectural Part' to Peter Mills and 'another Person, who desires to have his name conceal' d', phrasing that many readers would have interpreted as referring to someone of rank.7

The identification of Gerbier as that person is traceable back to George Vertue, who evidently based it on Gerbier 's allusion to the arches in his Brief Discourse Concerning the Three Chief Principles of Magnificent Building (1662).8 There the reference accompanies others, to work more securely attributed to Gerbier: that for Buckingham at York House on the Strand (demol. 1670s), including the water gate, and a grand reception room in the wing Gerbier added in 1 624-24. 9 Gerbier was making no direct claims for authorship. Drawing on a then-conventional 'true-hearts' trope, he was using the arches to explain that architectural grandeur is made, not by sheer size and expense, but through the 'principles' that are his little book's subjects.10 Similarly, the 'excellency of the several Triumphall Arches erected in the City of London, consist not in their Bulk'. 'Nor is it the quantity of Timber or Stone, that speaks love in an Arch; but rather when it is composed of the hearts of Loyal Subjects, which surpasseth all that can be made.'11 The message was so often repeated during the coronation year (not least by writers cynical about the City's expensive profession of loyalty) that the arches made a particularly good illustration of Gerbier 's point. The illustration is even wittier, of course, if Gerbier had been involved in their design.

If he had, he perhaps had good reason to desire his name concealed, as did Ogilby and, for that matter, the City of London. Although, as Howard Colvin has pointed out, Peter Mills, whom Ogilby named as the other author of the entry's 'Architectural Part', was no royalist, that did not prevent the City from employing him.12 Gerbier however seems to have been in particularly bad odour at court. Appointed to the prestigious and lucrative post of Master of




Ceremonies in 1641, he was almost immediately disgraced after being caught out in a lie to the House of Lords about an old conspiracy.13 After Charles I's execution, he placed himself at the service of the Long Parliament and Oliver Cromwell. Others would be forgiven worse after 1660, but by then Gerbier may have been credited (as he is now) with such really serious indiscretions as The None-such Charles his Character (London, 1651), an anonymous, damning attack on the early Stuarts. His Mastership was suspended in December 1660, three months after planning for the coronation began. On the evidence of the Discourse the suspension was enough to discourage, but not kill, any hopes of recouping his fortunes through architecture: he dedicated the book to Charles II (and to the Lords and Commons) with the claim (sigs A2V-A3) that the martyred king had wished Gerbier to have the reversion of the Survey orship, as well as the Mastership of Ceremonies. In May 1661, however, a month after the king's triumphal entry into London, Gerbier 's eldest son George described his father, whom he was then frantically disavowing, as held in 'general odium'.14 George did, however, publish a translation of Ogilby's Relation in Venice that year, which may constitute further evidence for his father's involvement with the entry.15 Gerbier died, probably in 1663, disappointed in his hopes for readmission to court.

Geoffrey Fisher has recently questioned the authorship of the Burlington- Devonshire RIBA drawings for the 1661 arches (Figs 14, 16), usually, although never certainly, attributed to Gerbier.16 Fisher has concluded that their style, as well as certain details shown in them, are far more characteristic of Edward Pearce than they are of Gerbier 's other designs of the 1660s; if so, they comprise Pearce' s first known drawings. The attribution is further strengthened, as Fisher has noted, by their present location: Pearce bequeathed to his Very good friend' William Talman the pick of his own collection, and these drawings likely entered the Burlington collection via Talman. It is possible to posit a connexion between Gerbier and Pearce under the aegis of William, first Earl of Craven, for whom they both worked (although probably not at the same time).17 The re-attribution of the drawings does however complicate the attribution of the designs, in so far as it is not clear why Gerbier would employ a draughtsman.

It is worth pointing out, finally, the resemblance between the bottom part of the third, 'Concord' arch as it was designed (Fig. 15), a rather lovely structure, and the upper part of the east frontispiece of the Canterbury Quadrangle at St John's College, Oxford (begun 1634), which Howard Colvin attributed to Gerbier in 1988. The device of the 'shallow curved pediment with a solid segment at each end supported by coupled columns [had been] ... a feature of French church fagades in the early seventeenth century', but the 1661 design represents only its second prominent appearance in England, but by no means its last: Wren held it in affection.18 Although the task is hampered by lack of evidence, Gerbier still requires attention as part of a re-evaluation of architectural classicism in seventeenth-century England.

NOTES TO THE APPENDIX

1 Balthazar Gerbier, The Interpreter of the Academie for Forrain Languages, and All Noble Sciences, and Exercises ([n.p.], 1648), pp. 3-4. 2 Rubens painted Deborah Kip, Wife of Sir Balthasar Gerbier, and Her Children (Washington, National Gallery of Art) in 1629-30. Useful recent accounts of Gerbier's career are those in Howard Colvin, A Biographical Dictionary of British Architects, 1600-1840, 3rd edn (New Haven and London, 1995), s.v. 'Gerbier, Sir Balthazar'; Marika Keblusek, 'Cultural and Political Brokerage in Seventeenth-century England: the Case of Balthazar Gerbier', in Dutch and Flemish Artists in Britain. Leids Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek, xm, ed. Juliette Roding et al. (Leiden, 2003), pp. 73-82; Jeremy Wood, 'Gerbier, Sir Balthazar (1592-1663/1667)', Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, accessed 15 October 2004 at <http://www.oxforddnb.com/ view / article / iO562>. 3 ([Paris, 1646]), sig. A2.




4 Balthazar Gerbier, A Brief Discourse Concerning the Three Chief Principles of Magnificent Building. Viz. Solidity, Conveniency, and Ornament (London, 1662), dedication to the Lords and Commons. Colvin, Biographical Dictionary, pp. 397-98 summarizes debates over the York gate's attribution. 5 J. D. Loach, 'Pageant and Festival Arts', Grove Art Online, accessed 21 November 2005 via <http://www.groveart.com>, sect. 4; idem, 'Francois Cuenot (1610-1686): architecte-ingenieur savoisien', in L'Idee Constructive en architecture, ed. Xavier Malverti (Paris, 1987), pp. 41-63 (pp. 50-52). 6 John Ogilby, The Relation of His Majesties Entertainment Passing through the City of London, to His Coronation, with a Description of the Triumphal Arches, and Solemnity (London, 1661), facing title-page, a copy of the royal warrant entrusting Ogilby with this 'part'. 7 Ibid., p. 32. Compare p. 9, where the composition of an 'entertainment' staged that day by the East India Company is credited to 'a Person of Quality'. 8 The Note-Books of George Vertue Relating to Artists and Collections in England I, Walpole Society, xvm (London, 1930), p. 49. Clovis Whitfield, 'Balthasar Gerbier, Rubens, and George Vertue', Studies in the History of Art (Washington), 5 (1973), pp. 6-22 (pp. 27-31) transcribes Vertue's draft letters of 1749 (in the British Library) about the Windsor Castle version of Rubens' s The Gerbier Family (see note 2 above), which mention Gerbier as the architect of 'several works', of which the only one specified, however, is Hampstead Marshall, Berks. Gerbier, Brief Discourse, p. 40. 9 On the last, see John Harris, 'Classicism Without Jones', Country Life, 184, 4 October 1990, pp. 152-55 (pp. 154-55). 10 Gerbier, Brief Discourse, p. 40. On the true-hearts' trope, compare the passage from John Evelyn's Panegyric to Charles the Second (1661) quoted Christine Stevenson, 'Robert Hooke, Monuments, and Memory', Art History, 28 (2005), pp. 43-73 (pp. 46-47). 11 Gerbier, Brief Discourse, pp. 42-43. 12 Biographical Dictionary, s.v. 'Mills, Peter'. A bricklayer by training, Mills was by 1661 also an experienced architect, mostly of houses. 13 Keblusek, 'Cultural and Political Brokerage', pp. 77-78. 14 Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series. 1660-1661, ed. Mary Anne Everett Green (London, i860), pp. 415 (16 December 1660), 522 (February 1661). Ibid., pp. 589-90, calendars a letter from the son, then in Venice, to Secretary Nicholas, 17 May 1661 (cited Ronald Knowles, 'Introduction' to Ogilby's Entertainment, p. 13). 'Is an exile and an alien, from being supposed to be the son of Sir Balthazar Gerbier, whose conduct is in such general odium.' George, strongly hinting that he was really Buckingham's bastard, announced that he was hoping to change his name to George St George ('with the cross of England for his coat of arms')! 15 Eric Halfpenny, "The Citie's Loyalty Display' d" (A Literary and Documentary Causerie of Charles II's Coronation "Entertainment")', Guildhall Miscellany, 10 (1959), pp. 19-35 (p- 22 n- X4)- 16 John Harris raised doubts about the draftsman's identity in i960: Prunella Fraser and John Harris, RIB A Sir Banister Fletcher Library Drawings Collection. Burlington-Devonshire Collection, Part 1: the Drawings of Inigo Jones, John Webb, and Lord Burlington (London, i960), p. 107. He suggested Peter Mills, 'although the sources and intellectual content are not supported by his architectural output; yet they cannot be by the engraver, David Loggan, since they are patently preliminary studies'. I return to the 1661 arches and their architectural context in a book with the working title of The Politics of Architecture in Restoration London. 17 Gerbier began working at Hampstead Marshall, Berks (destr.), some time after June 1660, when Craven recovered his extensive estate. Gerbier's drawings for Hampstead Marshall in the Bodleian (MS Gough a.2) include the signed elevation of a rusticated gateway (fols 24-25), whose style provides a good comparison with the RIBA drawings, as well as with Pearce's drawing of a gate-pier at the same house (fol. 36). Pearce's work there and at Craven's Combe Abbey, Warwicks, is not documented until the 1680s. On him see Katharine Eustace, 'Pearce, Edward (c.1635-1695)', Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004, accessed 22 January 2006 at <http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/22223>; Colvin's Biographical Dictionary, s.v. 'Pierce, Edward' (no longer the preferred spelling); and Edward Croft-Murray and Paul Hulton, Catalogue of British Drawings [in the British Museum], 1, XVI and XVII Centuries ... (London, i960), pt 1, pp. 451-55. 18 Howard Colvin, The Canterbury Quadrangle St John's College Oxford (Oxford, 1988), pp. 21, 23: e.g. Saint- Gervais-Saint-Protais (compl. 1621, probably to the design of Salomon de Brosse) and the church of the Feuillants (1623) in Paris. Specifically, Colvin suggests (ibid., pp. 48, 51-52), in an attribution maintained in Colvin, Biographical Dictionary, s.v. 'Gerbier', that Gerbier was the author of the 'drafts of the fronts' brought down from London in 1633 for the Quadrangle, presumably for the upper parts of the two frontispieces there.



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Occasional Architecture in Seventeenth-Century London

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