“’Tis very fine,
But where d’ye sleep, or where d’ye dine?
I see from all you have been telling
That ’tis a house, but not a dwelling.”
He tells Lord Burlington, too, that his noble rules would fill half the land with imitating fools, who, among other things,
“Shall call the wind thro’ long arcades to roar,
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door;
Conscious they act a true Palladian part,
And if they starve, they starve by rules of art.”
The rules of art were supreme. They had achieved their supremacy by the time that George I. came to the throne. Inigo Jones was too original a thinker, too close to the old traditions, to be entirely fettered by them. Wren was too powerful a genius, too much occupied in solving constructional problems, to become their slave. He was too busy surmounting real architectural difficulties to occupy his time in half-hearted attempts to translate Italian villas into terms of English mansions; and some at least of his contemporaries refrained from the favourite pursuit of his successors. In the second half of the eighteenth century architects gave themselves a little more freedom of treatment, while still conforming to the very careful proportions of the classic styles. The brothers Adam, for instance, while indulging in no great flights of fancy, bestowed great care on the proportions and the detail of their work. The house, No. 20 St James’s Square (Fig. 161), is a good example of the refined manner of Robert Adam, although, compared with the productions of the early part of the century, it may be considered a little insipid.