The most notable Antiquity of Great Britain, vulgarly called Stone-Heng, on Salisbury Plain: Restored by Inigo Jones Esquire, Architect Generall to the late King

In Short

This work is a foundational piece of architectural history that attempts to solve the mystery of Stonehenge by applying the principles of classical design. Rejecting the folktales and medieval legends that attributed the monument to giants, Saxons, or ancient Britons, the author argues that its symmetry and structure reveal the hand of Roman engineers. By examining the site through the lens of Vitruvian theory, the text seeks to transform a perceived "miracle" of the wilderness into a logical, deliberate contribution to the Roman history of Britain.

The Story

The narrative begins with a scholarly ambition: to move beyond the "indigested notes" of the past and provide a reasoned account of Stonehenge. The author dismisses the popular medieval legends—particularly those found in the writings of Geoffrey of Monmouth—that describe the monument as a memorial to a massacre of British nobles by the Saxon leader Hengist. To the author, such tales are mere fables, lacking historical weight and architectural plausibility.

He pivots to a careful study of the ancient Britons themselves, using the accounts of Roman historians like Tacitus and Herodian to demonstrate that these early inhabitants were a "savage and barbarous people." He argues that they lacked the technical knowledge, tools, and social organization required to erect such massive, precise stone structures. He notes that even long after the Roman arrival, the Britons struggled to build basic stone walls, often relying on turf and wood, which stands in stark contrast to the sophisticated engineering visible at Stonehenge.

Having dismantled the theory of British authorship, the author introduces his primary candidate: the Roman Empire. He posits that the monument was built during the peak of Roman influence in Britain, likely between the time of Julius Agricola’s governorship and the reign of Constantine the Great. He argues that the Romans were driven by a policy of "civilizing" the local population, teaching them the liberal arts, and occupying them with massive building projects to prevent rebellion. By comparing the circular, open-air design of Stonehenge to the Roman temple form known as monopteros and the hypæthros style—which remained uncovered to the sky—he attempts to provide a structural lineage for the monument.

The middle portion of the book focuses on the "severe Tuscane" order of the stones. The author examines the nature of the materials, rejecting the idea that they are artificial "sand-cast" stones, and correctly identifying them as natural rock, likely sourced from quarries near Avebury. He meticulously analyzes the layout, noting the influence of geometric symmetry and the use of mortise-and-tenon joints, which he views as the hallmark of a trained architect rather than a primitive builder.

The final arc of the argument attempts to identify the specific deity to whom the temple was dedicated. After considering and rejecting Diana—due to the mismatch between the temple’s architecture and the requirements of her cult—the author settles on Cœlus, the ancient sky deity. He concludes that the gravity and austerity of the Tuscane style, combined with the open-air design, reflect the qualities of this primordial god. The book ends with a classicist’s flourish: a defense of his methodology against those who prefer "modern conceits" or fables, inviting future scholars to continue the work of navigating the "craggy rocks of Antiquity" toward the "secure Haven of undoubted Truth."

How It Unfolds

The rejection of legend The author immediately distances himself from the fantastical claims of medieval chroniclers, characterizing their narratives as fables that ignore the reality of British history. He argues that if one relies on the accounts of ancient authors like Caesar and Tacitus, the notion of a native British monument becomes logically impossible.

The case for Roman civilization The narrative shifts to the Roman occupation, detailing how Agricola and his successors transformed the island's landscape to reflect the splendor of Rome. By citing the Romans' need to keep soldiers and subjects busy with grand architectural works, he provides a political and practical motivation for the monument's creation.

The architectural evidence The author conducts a technical analysis of the site, comparing the proportions, circular plan, and stone-working techniques to the standard practices outlined in Vitruvius’s treatises on architecture. He argues that the precision of the structure reflects a mastery of geometry that only a Roman hand could possess.

The final identification In the concluding sections, the author synthesizes his findings to attribute the site to the worship of Cœlus. He acknowledges that while the precise date of construction remains a matter of conjecture, the "Tuscane" nature of the design confirms its identity as a Roman temple, bringing the mystery to a definitive, if historically incorrect, close.

The People

The book is framed by the intellectual presence of Inigo Jones, the author and renowned architect. Jones is presented as a man of refined taste who finds the "barbarous" legends of his countrymen unsatisfying. He is the voice of reason and classical order, seeking to impose the clarity of Italian Renaissance theory onto the chaotic mystery of the British landscape.

Representing the opposing view are the chroniclers like Geoffrey of Monmouth and the historians who propagate the "fable" of the giants and the Saxon massacre. Jones views them with a mix of pity and frustration; they are, in his eyes, victims of their own lack of rigor, preferring a convenient myth to the difficult, systematic study of ruins.

Julius Agricola serves as the historical anchor for Jones’s argument. Jones treats him not just as a Roman governor, but as a catalyst for civilization. To Jones, Agricola is the personification of Roman policy—the man who taught the "rude" Britons how to build, how to wear gowns, and how to live with order.

Finally, there is the "Right Honourable Philip, Earle of Pembroke," to whom the work is dedicated. Through this dedication, the author establishes the book’s place within the high-minded, aristocratic tradition of antiquarianism. The Earl is the patron of this intellectual project, symbolizing the elite circle of readers for whom the architectural "restoration" of Stonehenge is not just a study of the past, but an exercise in maintaining the dignity of historical truth.

In Its Own Voice

"Having satisfied my self in these, and returning to my native Countrey, I applied my minde more particularly to the study of Architecture."

The author explains the professional journey that led him to apply the rigorous standards of Italian design to the mysterious stones of England.

"As Geffrey Monmouth’s Authority in this treacherous slaughter of the Britans, though I respect not so much, as Ninnius, Malmsbury, Sigebert, and others that affirm the same; yet, because he was the first, after so many, and so ancient Authors, that father’d Stoneheng their monument, and A. Ambrosius founder thereof, and therefore must trace him, and his followers therein."

Jones prepares to engage with the medieval legends he aims to dismantle, acknowledging the weight of tradition even as he plans to overturn it.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an early, formal attempt to reconcile the physical reality of the prehistoric past with the prevailing intellectual framework of the 17th century. It is an argument about the nature of civilization itself. Jones posits that true architecture—defined by symmetry, proportion, and order—cannot exist in a vacuum; it requires a state, a body of knowledge, and a sense of duty to classical ideals. The book grapples with the anxiety of the "barbarous" versus the "civilized," suggesting that the absence of written records for a people like the ancient Britons implies a corresponding absence of the ability to create enduring, meaningful art. Stonehenge becomes the stage for a debate between the romantic allure of myth and the cold, structural logic of the imperial world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the history of ideas will find this book fascinating. It is a time capsule from an era when the "scientific" study of archaeology was still in its infancy, and when the authority of classical texts—like Vitruvius—was considered equal to, if not greater than, physical observation. You will feel the author’s genuine, scholarly passion for his craft as he walks you through his floor plans and measurements, attempting to draw order out of chaos.

Be aware, however, that the text is written in 17th-century English, which can be dense and challenging. Furthermore, the author’s dismissal of the native British people as "savage and barbarous" reflects the prejudices of his time and his complete lack of understanding regarding the prehistoric cultures that actually built Stonehenge. It is a deeply flawed historical argument, but a brilliant piece of architectural projection. You read it not for the truth about the stones—which modern archaeology has since corrected—but to witness the mind of a master builder attempting to make sense of the world through the only lens he knew. The book stays with you as a testament to the human desire to impose a coherent, rational narrative upon the mysteries of the deep, silent past.