The life and works of Sir Charles Barry

by Alfred Barry

It is clear that the two schemes were constructed on totally different principles. The scheme of the Commission was, so to speak, an ideal one, drawn up with great skill and knowledge, so as to cover the whole field of English history, and bring out those salient points, which might properly be connected with the palace of the legislature. The scheme of the architect was a practical one, drawn up with reference to the various halls and galleries of the building, and designed to present as grand and perfect a spectacle as possible to those entering and traversing the building. It would have been very desirable that these schemes should have modified and interpenetrated each other. Ideal perfection need not have suffered, had some deference been paid to the actual conditions of locality. But such was not the case. The Commission indeed refer to the architect’s scheme as enabling them first to “select fit localities” for the works of art, and next to “proceed to a general scheme suitable to the localities selected.” Yet it is difficult to trace in the arrangements actually made any reference to the architectural character of the halls selected, or to the actual convenience of exhibition of the works of art themselves.

The original recommendation of the Parliamentary Committee, which gave rise to the Commission, was that “a plan should be determined on, by which the architect and the artists employed should work not only in conjunction with but in aid of one another.” The actual fact is, that, in some cases, the works of art are utterly at variance with the architecture, and ill-adapted to their position. Thus statues, beautiful in themselves, are executed on such a scale as to ruin the architectural effect of the halls, in which they are erected. This is the case with the statues in St. Stephen’s Hall, and the fine group by Gibson in the Prince’s chamber. In some cases fine paintings, such as Herbert’s magnificent picture of Moses delivering the Law, are in positions in which the public can rarely see them, while St. Stephen’s Hall, through which the main tide of people flows, is still left without a single picture. The series of statues of the British sovereigns is to be divided among three or four different localities, so that it will be impossible to see them at one time, or have them executed on one uniform scale. These things ought not to have been, and it is hardly possible that they should have taken place, had the Commission included one member, who had before his eyes the building as a whole, and the scale and succession of its various parts. Their labours have led to great and valuable results: it is a pity that these results should have suffered, even in a slight degree, from want of practical knowledge.

In order to carry out the ideas embodied in the scheme of the Commissioners, great exhibitions of cartoons and sculpture took place in Westminster Hall. Premiums were offered, and commissions were given to those who gained the highest places in this grand competition. The work is still going on, and (it is to be hoped) will be continued, till something like the ideal proposed in the reports shall be realized. Few buildings could be better adapted to serve as a British “Walhalla.” The natural wish for the perpetuation of memorials of great men and great events has filled St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey with monuments, seldom fitted for places of Christian worship and Christian sepulture. Such monuments might well find a place in future in a building, which is at once a palace of the Sovereign and the home of the legislature,—a building moreover, which by its extent and by its publicity gives the greatest possible scope for such commemoration of the past. When we look at what has been already done by the hands of our most celebrated artists, it is impossible not to feel that already the object of the Commission has been, to a great extent, attained, and a great opportunity nobly used. It is to be hoped, that even now such modifications may be made, during the continuance of the work, as may do away with all such drawbacks as those noticed above, and secure the harmony needed for grandeur of effect.

But, if it was Mr. Barry’s fate thus to encounter opposition and difficulty, it was his good fortune in the execution of his great work to draw round him men, who would work heartily under his direction, and yet would bring to their work all the enthusiasm and the high artistic spirit, which are usually supposed to belong only to independent workers. The opportunity was a great one; the scale of the building, the supplies given from the public purse, and (for a considerable time) the large discretion left to the architect in the employment of those resources, were at that time unprecedented. Mr. Barry felt the greatness of the opportunity. Not only did he desire to make his building a treasure-house of art and a sculptured memorial of our national history, but he also hoped to raise up in the course of its execution a school of decorative art, guided, but not servilely confined, by the examples of Gothic antiquity, and bringing to the evolution of Gothic principles all the resources of modern thought and science.

His ideas on the former point are embodied in the communication to the Fine Arts Commission, which is quoted above. The appointment of the Commission, of which (as has been remarked) he was not made a member, to a great extent took the highest artistic decoration out of his hands; and, but for his strenuous resistance, would have interfered even with purely architectural details. Still, however, much remained in his power; and his hopes in this direction did not fail of considerable accomplishment.

Nor was he disappointed in his other expectation. In the extraordinary progress of decorative art during the last twenty years the work in the New Palace of Westminster may justly claim a large share of influence. Infinite pains were bestowed on every detail; in some cases it seemed, that the dignity of the building as a whole, rather than the absolute need or object of the particular part under consideration, was allowed to determine the care and elaboration to be bestowed upon it. In the whole of the enormous mass there is hardly a square yard, which was not the subject of careful study. It was rather an understatement than an exaggeration of the truth, when the architect was forced to state to the Government that “no less than between 8000 or 9000 original drawings and models have been prepared for it, a large portion of which have emanated from my own hand, while the whole of the remainder have been made under my own immediate direction and supervision.” It was impossible that this extraordinary labour should be wholly thrown away. It could not fail to advance that cause of decorative art, to which it was so unsparingly devoted. But Mr. Barry was well aware that such a work could not be carried out by the unaided exertions of a single man. It was his good fortune to give direction and stimulus to a crowd of artistic coadjutors; it is the duty and privilege of those, who cherish his memory, to record with the most unreserved acknowledgment the valuable aid which he received from them.

Foremost among all stands the name of the late Mr. Pugin. It was (as has been said) during the erection of the Birmingham Grammar School in 1835 that he first became known to Mr. Barry, and at that time his help was first received in designing certain details of the interior. From the first moment of their acquaintance the connection between them became warm and friendly. Agreeing in their entire devotion to art, and differing widely in character and in artistic principles, they had perhaps just that amount of sympathy and diversity, which leads to mutual appreciation, co-operation, and friendship. Unrestrained as their intercourse and mutual criticisms were—impossible, in fact, as it would have been to restrain either in the assertion of what he conceived to be orthodoxy in architectural faith—that intercourse was untroubled by the slightest misunderstanding or estrangement of feeling, from the time that they first saw each other in Birmingham, till the day when Sir C. Barry was one of the few mourners who followed his friend to the grave.

The first aid which he received from Mr. Pugin was under the pressure of shortness of time in making the original design. Working under Mr. Barry’s own eye and direction, Mr. Pugin sketched for him in pencil a complete set of details, in a style perhaps bolder, less carefully proportioned and less purely English, than would have been adopted by himself. In the design they differed toto cœlo. Mr. Pugin would have recommended irregular and picturesque grouping of parts, utterly at variance with the regularity and symmetry actually adopted. Except in details, he neither had, nor could have had, any influence whatever, and those who compare the details of his own buildings with those of the New Palace will readily see that even here his influence, however valuable, was chiefly indirect.

As soon as he was appointed architect to the New Palace, he immediately thought of his friend, and resolved to invite him to his aid. Convinced that Mr. Pugin was at that time unrivalled in his knowledge of Gothic detail, admiring his extraordinary powers as a draughtsman, carried away by sympathy with his burning artistic enthusiasm, he could wish for no other coadjutor. The invitation was accepted, and a connection was established equally honourable to both artists. No man was more original than Mr. Pugin. He held strongly certain principles, on the evolution of which he greatly disagreed with his friend: he was one whose name and genius could at all times command an independent authority. Yet for the furtherance of his art he was willing to accept a distinctly subordinate position, and to work under the superintendence and control of another. His acceptance of the post, and the spirit in which he discharged its duties, showed the generosity and unselfishness which were his well-known characteristics. Nor, on the other hand, could Mr. Barry be unaware of the danger of calling in a too powerful coadjutor. He knew the almost inevitable risk which he incurred of being supposed to wear other men’s laurels, of having all that was good or spirited in the details attributed to Mr. Pugin,[81] and of finding it difficult or impossible to control an enthusiasm, which might work in what seemed to him undesirable methods. But these things he resolutely put aside for the sake of an aid, which he thought likely to improve his great building, and which he knew to be genial and inspiriting to himself.[82] That Mr. Pugin was the last man in the world to encroach on another man’s authority or credit he knew, and that this confidence in his friend’s character was not misplaced is shown by the strong disclaimer which he put out, when an attempt was made to attribute to him more than he felt to be his due. The misapprehensions of others he could afford to disregard.

After Mr. Barry’s appointment as architect, he still received the same aid in preparing detailed drawings for the estimate, most of which however, by changes in design, were afterwards set aside. Finally, at his recommendation, Mr. Pugin was formally appointed superintendent of the wood carving, and in that capacity he directed, first the formation of a valuable collection of plaster casts of the most famous examples at home and abroad, and next the execution of the wood-work, ornamental metal-work, stained glass, and encaustic tiles throughout the whole building. But in all cases it was thoroughly understood between them, that the architect’s supremacy was to be unimpaired. Every drawing passed under his eye in all cases for supervision, in very many for alteration. Mr. Pugin’s originality and enthusiasm never interfered with this understanding: he would carry out vigorously and heartily what he himself could not altogether approve.[83] His suggestions and criticisms, freely given and freely received, were invaluable; and his enthusiasm, even in its eccentricities, was inspiring and irresistible. For more than five and twenty years the intercourse between the two friends and coadjutors continued, unbroken by any differences except in taste, and, when Mr. Pugin was struck down by his fatal illness, Mr. Barry felt that his loss was irreparable.