The life and works of Sir Charles Barry

by Alfred Barry

These points determined, the rest of the plan followed naturally. The Commons must be on the left of the Central Hall, their private entrance in New Palace Yard, and the Speaker’s residence beyond; the Lords on the right, their private entrance in Old Palace Yard, and the Royal approach again beyond this. The suites of libraries and committee-rooms could nowhere be so well placed as on the river front. This general plan was at once adopted, and from its main features he never swerved. He disliked, as an error of principle, the necessary duality of design, and the need of carrying on the great line of approach to inferior rooms, while the Houses of Lords and Commons lay on the right and left. He would have preferred some one feature incontestably the chief, so as to give the unity which he craved. But the plan adopted was recommended by grandeur, simplicity, and convenience;[92] and these considerations kept him firm and unhesitating in his adherence to it. In fact, he was surprised that none of his competitors had adopted it.

The plan and style being thus fixed, the composition of the design next suggested the question, whether there was anything in Gothic style which ought to interfere with the principles of symmetry, regularity, and unity, so dear to his artistic taste. Many (and his friend Pugin especially) contended for irregularity, picturesqueness, and variety. They would have had a group of buildings rather than a single one, or at any rate a building, in which there should be a general unity of style, rather than an actual symmetry of design, which they stigmatized as “clothing a “classical design with Gothic details.” But Mr. Barry’s notions were widely different. He conceived that, if certain first principles were true, they could not vary in different styles. He believed that symmetry and regularity were essential to unity and grandeur; and on this conviction he acted throughout, though sensible at the time that it would meet with opposition, and occasionally disheartened by the increasing strength of the opposition in after years.[93] This is, of course, no place for the discussion of so difficult a question in the abstract. All that is needful is to indicate the principle, which, as a matter of fact, guided and controlled the design, and which probably accounts for the existence of certain actual features, and the omission of others which might have been looked for.[94]

The character of the building was, of course, to be palatial. There were however but fragments of Gothic palaces to be found in England. Italian Gothic had not yet attracted much observation. The town-halls of Belgium occurred to him, and he went over to that country to see and to admire them, especially those of Brussels and Louvain. They recurred to him afterwards, as examples of visible roofs, and general enrichment. But at the time they did not affect his design, which was mainly “castellated” with embattled parapets, concealed roofs, and an absence of all spires. The great tower, one hundred feet square, was to be treated as a “keep;” the clock-tower differed little, except in size, from the same general character. With his great love of unity and regularity he might have desired a central tower,[95] but it must have been over the central hall, and there it would have been too far back to form a centre to the great river front, and half its height would have been concealed. He always thought that great towers should be seen from their parapet to their base; accordingly, he was content to place his towers in positions where they would form natural and prominent features, without interfering with each other, or with the great river front.

Such were the views which dictated the great outlines of the prize design. He made countless variations, drawings literally by hundreds, as studies of its prominent features, in the course of its formation; but the main principles were deeply fixed in his mind, and to them he always returned.

As soon as he was appointed to carry out the work, he was instructed to remodel his plan. More accommodation was needed, and the Government determined to extend the site southwards. This step had the additional advantage of enabling the architect to enlarge the courts, required to give light and air to so extensive a building. It was the first of many alterations, some undertaken with direct authority, others more or less on his own responsibility, with the strong feeling that they were real improvements, dictated by an “architectural necessity,” and that as such they must eventually be sanctioned.

This willingness to accept responsibility was shown in the first change. The river line was not at right angles to the main approach through St. Stephen’s Hall. If both were strictly preserved, much distortion was inevitable. To diminish it as much as possible, he not only set back the line of the embankment at the southern end, but advanced it at the other end, near the bridge, so as to encroach on the river; and this he did, without consulting either the Conservators of the Thames or the Government. This bold step, sanctioned by its success, still left some remains of the objectionable distortion at the entrance from St. Stephen’s Hall into the central hall. There it still exists, but, owing to the octagonal form of the latter hall, and some contrivances of detail, it is hardly to be detected.

The next important alteration introduced one of the noblest features of the present building. In determining to use Westminster Hall as a public approach, he had feared that any important alteration might rouse opposition; he had therefore proposed merely to enlarge the existing entrance under the great south window. But now the grand idea of St. Stephen’s porch was conceived, the great window was set back, and the present noble entrance to the building was the result. He had proposed also to raise the great roof of Westminster Hall,[96] being thoroughly satisfied of the practicability of the process, and the great improvement of proportion which must result. Considerations of expense alone interfered with its execution.

For the embellishment of the hall he had, as has been shown in the last chapter, grand dreams; frescoes, trophies, and statues, were to have met the eye, “set” in profuse enrichment of colour and mosaic, and the whole was to have formed a British Walhalla.

The central hall was originally intended to be far more lofty than at present; the lowering of its proportions is one of the many changes necessitated by the claims for ventilation made by Dr. Reid.

The most important alteration of all was made in the royal entrance. The tower in the first design was one hundred feet square, the sovereign was to have alighted within it, and the royal procession, turning round a central pillar, was to have returned by the way it came. The reduction of the size of the tower to seventy-five feet square set this plan aside, and it was then arranged, that the sovereign should pass through the tower into an inner hall, and alight at the foot of a grand staircase, leading straight to the robing room immediately behind the throne. But on consideration Mr. Barry grudged the great sacrifice of space, and the interruption of communication on the principal floor, for a staircase, which could be used only twice a year.[97] He conceived the notion of the Royal gallery, as a hall for the use of the House of Lords, for the viewing of the royal procession, and for the display of architectural effect, unrestrained by the encumbrances which business renders necessary in the Houses of Lords and Commons. To these considerations he sacrificed the greater magnificence of the original staircase, and on his own responsibility proceeded with the work.