Sydney Architecture- Early Australian Architectural History

Chapter 5. ARCHITECTS

Early Australian Architectural History

To understand what part the architects were to play in the formation of
Australia we must understand their background and their origins.
First of all, what is an architect? The answer, "One who draws plans",
is as insufficient and as inaccurate as such facile answers frequently are. An architect,
it is true, sometimes draws plans to illustrate his ideas, but much more often he has
others who do this. Draughtsmanship, then, is not architecture, and the word
If we go back in history, we discover that this sense of ideas and ingenuity has
constantly been associated with architects, who, for good or bad, have always
been with us. Early in recorded time we find Imhotep named as the first known
architect. He worked in Egypt about 2800 B.C., and even more interesting is the
fact that his chief design, the Step Pyramid, still raises its vast bulk above the desert
of Sakkara, nearly five thousand years after Imhotep's body had dried to desert
dust.' I-Iis idea has persisted one hundred times as long as his mortal flesh, for the
Step Pyramid was the result of thinking and ingenuity which evolved a method
of construction radically new for its time. Archaeological investigation has shown
that the complex of mortuary chapels, courts and buildings attendant upon the
Step Pyramid was of very great beauty. Later Imhotep was deified-the first, and
last, architect in history to be so honoured.

The word architect itself is antique Greek in origin and designates a director
of works as distinct from an artisan. In its transference to Latin the word became
architectus, which is quite recognizable, although in meaning it was to vary quite a
lot. But then the essential idea "architect" has many shades and nuances. Sometimes
the word came to mean a master mason, but by Elizabethan times Shakespeare
was using such phrases as "Chiefe Architect of these woes" and "The Great Architect
of the Universe", implying a controlling and directing mind, the creator of
something, which is a satisfactory general desciption.0n the other hand the
medieval use of the word architectus as a "wily fellow" is also attractive, but for
different reason.

This is the essence. It is impossible to convey all the shades of meaning that are
involved in the composition of an architect as planner, organizer, technical specialist,
constructor, consultant, building director, building lawyer, negotiator, mathematician,
poet, artist, space sculptor, functionalist, and pure designer. It would be as
impossible to explain these to one who has not practised architecture as it would be
to explain the design and purposes of a ship to an inhabitant of the waterless moon.
In the nature of things an architect does not build; rather he devises the methods
by which things can be built, and built in such a way that the result is both sound
in fabric and a work of art. If the latter object is neglected the result is not architecture.
He is both composer and leader of the orchestra; he does not play the
instruments but controls and directs them so that beauty is created. His technique
is different from that of a musician, but his errors when they occur can be just as
discordant and ugly.

Unlike the musician, who deals in pure art, an architect must be practical. A
beautiful budding that does not serve its purpose is redundant. When, in the early
eighteenth century, General Wade had a house built for himself near London, he
found that his architect had arranged the interior so inconveniently that the cynical
Lord Chesterfield pointed out that the only way the owner could enjoy the house
in comfort would be to live immediately opposite and admire its beautiful facade
from there.

The architects who arrived in Australia came from an established architectural
background where was taking place the last flowering of an architectural style that
had persisted in England for four hundred years. Before this there had been the
Medieval period, which had lasted nearly a thousand years, but by the fifteenth
century the Gothic style-the "pointed': architecture of the great cathedrals and
the lesser churches-had run its course in the whole of Europe. From the next
century onwards, the Renaissance-that quickening of all the arts with its reverence
for the masterpieces of antiquity-had a profound affect on architecture. Men
looked to the Classical architectures of ancient Greece and Rome for inspiration.
This was copyism, but since budding techniques had varied very little in the
thousand or so years separating the Renaissance period from the Classical, there
was no break in constructional thought. The outward visible forms of the two
architectures were much the same, although the planning was better and the usefulness
of the building had increased. The visible forms were concerned with the
Classical columns, which were of four types with variants, and the attendant
details (8). These were arranged by very rigid architectural rules, and an architect
who transgressed any one of them was accused of being "not Classical", a description
that today is meaningless but that once was damning.

It will be noticed the column types vary from Tuscan-the plainest and heaviest
-to the Corinthian, which were the lightest, richest and most decorative. Each
column had a base, a shaft, a capital, and an entablature above.
Even in the middle of this twentieth century some architects persist in using the
Classical formulae; but since construction, planning, and the whole architectural
concept have undergone revolution by scientific evolution, their anachronistic
approach offers not homage to the past but the insult of lack of understanding of
the true nature of architecture. In other words, to build today in imitation of
Renaissance buildings is to do a thing out of its time. There was little difference
between a building of 1750 and one of 1850, but after this came a revolution of
building science, and there is a universe of difference between a building of 1850
and one of 1950. It is only by appreciating this fact that we can enjoy the true
beauty of the older buildings.

Although the rules of Classical architecture were rigid as regards form and
detail, in the general grouping of the buildings and their parts there was much
freedom, which gave a freshness to architectural design. An analogy can be drawn
from literature: although the architectural alphabet was fairly limited, the number
of words that could be made was limitless.

During the Georgian period the principles of Classical architecture were so well
understood by everybody that no one really gave conscious thought to them. There
was only one way to form and ornament a building, so that was the way that was
used. Architecture had a universal language, and as an art it produced results
ranging from pleasing to superb. Certainly the middle-sized English house of the
eighteenth century is one of the most beautiful and most livable types of domestic
architecture ever devised.

If there had been only the Georgian influence at work when the men who were
to become the early Australian architects were receiving their training in England
the story of early Australian architecture would have been much more simple; but
at that time architecture was in a state of flux. The Georgian movement had passed
its pinnacle, and a reaction was setting in, although the first change was merely a
modification. Georgian forms were used, but in place of stone and exposed brick
walls we find walls plastered over with what was termed stucco-a most expressive
word. This tended to make the art of the plasterer the dominating decorative
element, and so in place of rich warm brickwork and finely chiselled stone we find
broad smoothly trowelled surfaces, often relieved by mouldings "run" in the
plaster round doors and window openings. This type of treatment came to be
known as Regency, after the future George IV, although his regency occupied
only part of the time during which the Regency style flourished. This was to be the
last manifestation of good taste in design before architecture slipped to its lowest
depths in the nineteenth century.

Real breaks from Georgian thought were to be seen in the Gothic Revival and
in the Greek Revival. In these, old forms were consciously copied, the Gothic doing
slavish homage to the pointed style of medieval churches, and having snobbish
regard for the crenellated battlements of old castles. It was a queer, sterile movement,
which never captured the spirit of the prototypes, never came really alive,
but nevertheless found wide favour, and was--once removed-to cover Victorian
Australia with a plethora of horrible buildings. Even interior fittings and furniture
were to have details copied from cathedral designs. One eminent critic of the
period was constrained to remark that "a man who remains for any length of time
in a modem Gothic room and escapes without being wounded by any of its
minutiae may consider himself extremely fortunate"? Style was everything, and
comfort-even safety-nothing.

The pseudo-Greeks used the firm, beautiful, and severe architecture of ancient
Grecian temples for their inspiration, employing it for everything from banks and
railway stations to a variety of buildings whose uses would have been an impenetrable
mystery to the Greeks who had originated the style.
These, then, were the four influences in an architecture that was to be sentenced
to transportation to Australia: Georgian, Regency, Gothic Revival and Greek
Revival. We shall meet examples of all of them later, when explanations can be
given in detail, but it is essential to grasp the principles set out here to appreciate
the pattern of early Australian work.

It seems a pity that after all this the first trained architect to reach Australia
should have been only Daniel Dering Mathew. He was a free settler who came to
Australia in 1813 in the hope of practising his profession. At first it must have
seemed that he had arrived in Heaven, for the question of establishing law courts
and a town hall was being mooted-and he the only trained architect within five
thousand miles! The Governor asked him to prepare some sketch plans for a
building combining the two actions. The result was a rather queer piece of
architectural design showing a building 140 feet long, 44 feet wide, and 36 feet high,
in two storeys. Mathew was careful to point out that he had provided "a Grecian
Doric Portico at the main entrance copied from the Temple of Theseus at Athens,
the only alteration is putting it on three steps instead of two". He was, of course,
being consciously "Classical" in the best tradition. In adding the note about the
steps he was being a pedantic fusspot. In any case, it was flattery to use the term
"portico" for the mean porch he proposed for his rather mediocre building.' In
each of the wings was to be a "geometrical Stair"; we shall meet many more
examples of this architectural feature so beloved by Colonial builders.
A geometrical stair was an ingenious invention, the building of which called
for a high degree of craftsmanship. Each step was formed by one stone, one end of
which was built into the wall, while the other hung out over space. Right along
the bottom edge of each step was a groove which fitted over the top edge of the
step immediately below, so that in some measure each step helped to support all
the others in a flight. The free ends of the steps generally conformed to some
pleasing geometrical curve, hence the name. A fine example of a geometrical stair
can be seen at Elizabeth Bay House.

Mathew estimated the whole cost of the courts at "about £6,000", but pointed
out that the exchange between currency and sterling was so variable that accuracy
was difficult. Macquarie tried to raise a subscription to obtain the funds for this
building but met with little success. Bent built his own house with courtroom
attached, as we saw earlier, but the need for adequate law courts was to be discussed
for years. Lord Liverpool later temporarily shelved the matter by directing
that a wing of the Rum Hospital should be used as courts, so Mathew's Temple of
Theseus retired, presumably to its native Athens, and rhe bitterly disappointed
architect was paid £10, 10s. "for drawing two plans of the intended New Court
House at Sydney". Eight years later he was to be prosecuted for harbouring and
employing a bushranger, so that his profit on these two transactions with the
Government was precisely ten shillings."

He was, however, to design and erect one building, the Colonial Secretary's
house in Bridge Street, Sydney, on the site of the present Department of Education.
This building was to survive until 1915, not unattractive in appearance,
showing definite Regency influence in its white stuccoed walls and rather curiously
decorated entrance porch. Its chief claim to historical importance is that it was the
subject of the first architect's plan, and specification, in Australia. It is reproduced
herewith (9). The house cost £3,000 to build, an extraordinarily high figure for its
time. General dissatisfaction was caused by its poor construction, and such a fault
would naturally reflect on the architect whether he was guilty or not.

Mathew's luck was indeed running out for, besides these woes, the major
architect of Colonial Australia was about to arrive as His Majesty's most unwilling
guest. This circumstance pricked the bubble of Mathew's gorgeous vision of unlimited
commissions from the Government, and he had to scrape along with what
private commissions he could get. These were not infrequent, but payments for
them were. Reading between the lines we see that payment was slow because his
work was not very satisfactory. We hear an echo from the days when he was
building the Colonial Secretary's house when he makes the excuse that the tradesmen
of the Colony were too unskilled to allow him to do good work. It seems to
be a case of a bad workman blaming bad workmen.

There is no detailed record of his activities between 1815 and 183,bu t in the
latter year he thought he saw his opportunity once more when the position of
Government Architect was in a curious and insecure state. He waged a campaign
of attrition against the Colonial Secretary's Office with the object of convincing the
authorities of their severe loss in not having him in their employ. His opening move
was subtle enough. The new geometrical stair at the market shed had collapsed, so
out of the goodness of his heart he wrote a letter to the Secretary pointing out that
all the geometrical stairs in all the government buildings were unsafe. He gave
a concise and highly technical description of the correct method of building
geometrical stairs with the object not so much of being informative on the subject
as to make it manifest that the one who knew all about geometrical stairs was none
other than D. D. Mathew, Esquire.

Ten days later the Colonial Secretary was to receive another letter in which not
only the stairs but all government buildings were described as unsafe, and which
contained the passage: "I am sorry to see so many buildings attempted to be
erected, particularly by Government and that at the risk of the lives of its subjects,
only for want of a person duly qualified to superintend them." In case the point
of the last sentence should be missed, Mathew treated the harassed Secretary to a
further gratuitous lecture on the engineering principles involved in the construction
of staircases, and a highly theoretical paper on roof trusses, finally telling his correspondent
that he would ready see "that there is much more scientific knowledge
required in erecting buildings than is generally supposed".

The hints were getting very broad indeed, but when they produced no results
after ten days, Mathew tried a new approach. On 6th October 1823 he sent the
Secretary a violin made by his own hands, ostensibly to convince that gentleman of
his skill in all things, but, no matter how he sought to disguise it, Mathew was
offering a bribe. He pointed out in the accompanying letter than any incompetent
could get a job with the Government in preference to "a perfect slave to science"-
himself."

Even he must have thought his manoeuvres were getting a little obvious,
because the very next day, in an effort to distract attention From his dubious
methods, he sent yet another letter, together with plans of two bridges with spans
of 120 feet and 180 feet respectively but "of one Arch of Equalibration", a lecture
on the building of bridges, and a plan for the new courthouse at Parramatta. This
would seem to have evoked a reply, but, since it still produced no promise of
employment, on 5th November he wrote asking for a candid answer as to whether
he could be hopeful of the position of Architect, Engineer, Director of Machines,
and/or anything. Had he not said previously that he could do the practical work of
more than twenty trades, having made the study of chemistry and the-Arts his
favourite amusement for many years? To this letter he appended the threat that
unless he got a position he would quit the Colony, "As I am determined no
longer to be buried in the most miserable part of the Globe, and among the outcastes
of all Society, for without a sdcienitn come to keep company with the first
rank, a man must descend to associate with the rabble, if with any."16 The Colonial
Secretary was apparently quite unmoved by the horror of the idea of New South
Wales w:thout a D. D. Mathew, and the matter lapsed.

As an anti-climax Mathew stayed on, busying himself with farming and with
saw-milling-apparently at Cowan Creek. In 1821 the Commissioner of the Court
of Requests found that he owed ;£8 16s. for a boat which after purchase roved to
be so rotten that he said he sold it for 10s. The famous Billy Blue summonsed him
for non-payment of a debt of £12 for ferrying him to and from Blue's Point. He
applied for convicts and had several assigned to him from time to time, although
the assignment of two was revoked in 1832 on the grounds that he did not provide
them with sufficient clothing.

The last we hear of him is in 1844, when he took a family of the assisted
emigrants, who were by then replacing transported convicts, to work on his farm
at Lane Cove?'

And so passed from history Australia's first architect, competent enough in the
technical field, if the evidence is to be believed, but lacking that quality of conviction
that makes a man a success amongst his fellow men.

This section is based on the excellent book Early Australian Architects and Their Work (Angus & Robertson, Syd, 1954); Herman, Morton, (1901-1983). Illustrated and Decorated by the Author.