But indeed any stranger who presented himself, as an unappreciated artist or an unknown discoverer, was sure of a favourable reception. Foreigners especially made their way with him, for he always liked the greater freedom and liveliness of Continental manners and character. This openness to influence remained in him to the last, very little corrected by experience, pushed even to the verge of credulity, often leading him into positions which had a tendency to compromise himself.[121] It is almost needless to add, that it was taken advantage of by unscrupulous persons, who received help and benefit from him in the time of urgent need, and turned afterwards to vilify the giver.
But although he was thus accessible to strangers, although no one could enjoy more the change and relaxation of society, and although he had many acquaintances in all ranks of life, he had few friends: with their society, added to that of his own family, he was perfectly contented. Perhaps with only one friend (Mr. Wolfe) had he any great and constant intimacy, for with him he could share the one great interest which absorbed his thoughts. Night after night Mr. Wolfe would spend with him, while the work of design was going on, always ready to give encouragement, suggestion, and criticism. And this community of artistic interest naturally developed itself into a general community of thought and feeling, not uncommon in youth, but rarely preserved in manhood and age.
Connected with these traits of character was a great, and (I think) an excessive, dislike of all public display. He had a keener sense of the conventionality and hollowness, which generally attach to it, than of the substantial reality, on which after all it must be based, or of the important functions which it performs. It was difficult to induce him to take, on any public occasion, the part required of him, by his connection with public bodies or by his own professional position; he shrank from the necessity of a speech or a lecture, even on subjects on which he might have spoken with authority.
It is probable that this feature of his character was inseparably connected with his energy of work and eminently practical tastes; but it was certainly unfortunate in its effects. It isolated him greatly from his professional brethren, and this isolation, on the one hand, prevented his exercising the full influence of his position, and on the other, deprived him of an interchange of thought and opinion, which might have told with advantage upon his own mind. The effect of this isolation perhaps increased as time went on, when new styles were rising up in architecture, and much of the work, to which his life had been devoted, was disparaged or decried. He was not indeed shaken in his old architectural creed; he believed that, in spite of the originality and talent displayed in the rising generation of architects, there was in much of their work a violation of first principles, which would eventually be felt as fatal. This conviction, and the natural vigour and buoyancy of his character, enabled him to show a bold front to all attacks, and go on, in disregard of them, in the path which he thought the right one. But he nevertheless felt them keenly. Like most men of high spirits, he was subject to periods of depression, which told more on his constitution than any amount of labour. And at such times, although, as has been seen, he received the most generous support from the members of his profession, he could but feel that in some respects he stood alone.
Such was the general tenour of his life, which at once reflected his natural character, and reacted upon it.
It must, of course, be left to others to pronounce on his artistic qualities, and to judge of the results which they produced. But it may be well to refer to the intellectual characteristics by which his mind seemed pre-eminently distinguished. One was a remarkable quickness of conception, which was intuitive on his own subjects, but which did not fail him even upon others. This quickness occasionally appeared to supersede any long abstract study. Not indeed that he would not spend infinite pains in maturing his conception, but these were given to practical developments and variations, which might be what mathematicians call “Formulas of Verification,” rather than to search for authorities and abstract reflection upon principles. I imagine that such half-unconscious intuition is characteristic of the artistic temperament, and doubt whether even Shakspere or Turner grasped, in abstract theory, those principles, which have been most truly discovered and commented upon in their works.
Joined to this quickness there was in him a remarkable fertility of design and contrivance. If a plan proved impracticable, if a design was rejected, the failure never seemed to disconcert him. Like the English infantry, he “never knew when he was beaten,” and his scattered forces were rallied instantly to another attack. This fertility was stimulated by an indestructible power of taking interest in the minutest details, and of despising all trouble in the search after perfection, whether it were in the design of a Victoria Tower, or the alteration and realteration of a drawing-room drapery. And it was perhaps supported by that resolution to have his own way, good humoured but determined, of which he was not untruly accused. For he was entirely, almost amusingly, unconscious that it had anything to do with any personal characteristic or any assertion of individual will. It seemed to him to be dictated by an artistic necessity, so strong that it was hardly possible to oppose it. The very readiness with which the ideas occurred seemed to him a guarantee that they were reasonable and almost self-evident, and why they did not occur to others, or why, when suggested, they did not commend themselves to others, he could not understand.
With these characteristics were naturally united a sanguine disposition and a quick temper. That sanguineness was of course tempered, and even over-clouded, by experience of life, and it had its period of natural reaction, when all things seemed gloomy to him, and he would pronounce his own powers a mere pretence and his life a failure. These periods acted upon, and suffered reaction from, his bodily health, and in them work was his best relief. Some excitability of temper belongs to such disposition, but there were few whom one could more truly describe as
“Irasci celerem, tamen ut placabilis esset.”
For openness and geniality were leading characteristics in his mind. He delighted in society, and in society of men of all characters and occupations; and those who do this are not likely to treasure up morbid views of men or of actions.