His constitution, originally one of remarkable strength, had been tried severely by work, and still more by anxiety and disappointment. The troubles connected with the New Palace at Westminster, not only in the Remuneration controversy, and in the many personal contests which arose out of the work, but in the fashion, which prevailed at one time, of constant depreciation of the work itself, and reflexions upon the architect, told much upon him. That much of this was ignorant he knew; that it would pass away he fully believed; but he felt it notwithstanding, for his disposition craved for sympathy and appreciation, and its sensitiveness was not dulled by age.
The effects were seen, not so much in any general weakness of health or appearance of decaying strength, as in sudden and violent attacks of illness. The first occurred in 1837, after the excessive work of the preparation of the design for the New Palace; and, as years and labours grew upon him, they became more frequent, till in 1858 he had so severe an attack of fever, that for some time his life was in imminent danger. But this seemed to pass away; he recovered much of his health and spirits, and preserved in great degree the elasticity and youthfulness of his nature. His strength, vigour, and keenness of interest in all around him were as strong as ever.
The end came most suddenly and unexpectedly. He had suffered for some time from a cough, which no remedy appeared to touch, but which nevertheless was thought to present no appearance of danger. On the 12th of May, 1860, he had been with Lady Barry to spend the afternoon at the Crystal Palace, and had seemed very calm and cheerful, speaking of the natural dispersion of their children, and of the end of life, in which they should be thrown upon each other, as at its beginning. The evening had been spent as usual, and at the regular time, about eleven o’clock, he had retired to his dressing-room. There he was seized with difficulty of breathing and pain; and, before any of his children could be summoned, almost before it was known that there was imminent danger, all was over. It was found afterwards that the cause of death was a weakness of action both in the lungs and in the heart. Death might have come suddenly at any moment. That he had felt some vague presentiment of it was shown by his having put his affairs in order early in the year. But it is doubtful whether he was conscious of its actual approach. It was a cause of thankfulness for his sake that it came so painlessly, and that, though his children, to their great grief, were absent, his wife was with him to the end.
It had been intended by his family that his funeral should be private, conducted in accordance with the privacy and simplicity of his life. But almost immediately the chief members of his profession expressed a wish that his body should be laid in Westminster Abbey, among the “representative men” of the country. The idea was readily taken up, especially in the Institute of British Architects. A deputation from that body waited on the Dean, who willingly accorded the needful permission, and it was settled that his body should be laid in the nave. It was but recently that Literature had been so honoured in the person of Lord Macaulay, and Science in the person of Robert Stephenson. Close by the side of the latter the new grave was opened.
The funeral took place on May 22nd (the day before his sixty-fifth birth-day). The family procession, moving from Clapham, was met at Vauxhall Bridge by the carriages containing the members of the Institute and other distinguished persons, and by a large body of workmen engaged in his works at the New Palace and elsewhere, who had requested permission to follow him to the grave. So augmented, it moved on to the Abbey.
“All the gentlemen who were to take part in the procession, and who numbered between 400 and 500 representatives of the great societies of arts and science in England, assembled in places adjoining the cloisters, and there awaited the arrival of the funeral cortége. The hearse reached Dean’s-yard a few minutes before 1 o’clock, and the coffin was borne through the old cloisters to the side entrance of the nave, where the Dean and Chapter, headed by the choir, were waiting. The procession was then formed, and to Purcell’s solemn anthem, ‘I am the resurrection and the life,’ moved slowly up the nave. First came the High Bailiff of Westminster, then the beadsmen, vergers, and choir, followed by the Dean and Chapter, and the coffin. There were eight pall-bearers—Sir Charles Eastlake, President of the Royal Academy; the Chief Commissioner of Works, the Right Hon. W. Cowper, M.P.; Mr. G. P. Bidder, President of the Institute of Civil Engineers; Lieutenant-General Sir E. Cust; the President of the Architectural Museum, Mr. A. J. Beresford Hope; the Dean of St. Paul’s; the President of the Royal Institute of British Architects, Mr. C. R. Cockerell; and Mr. Tite, F.R.S., M.P. Immediately following the body the five sons of the deceased walked as chief mourners, with the Dean of Chichester and other private friends of the late Sir Charles. To these succeeded a procession of immense length, which took nearly a quarter of an hour to file slowly into the Abbey, and for the members of which there was scarcely sufficient accommodation either in the choir or in the nave. The House of Commons was represented by Lord John Manners, Mr. J. Greene, Mr. R. S. Gard, Sir Joseph Paxton, Sir S. M. Peto, Sir A. Hood, Mr. F. V. Hume, and Mr. J. Locke. Among the Council and members of the Royal Academy were Messrs. T. Creswick, A. Elmore, J. H. Foley, S. A. Hart, J. R. Herbert, G. Jones, J. P. Knight, Sir E. Landseer, Messrs. C. Landseer, D. Maclise, P. Macdonall, W. C. Marshall, B. W. Pickersgill, F. R. Pickersgill, J. Phillip, D. Roberts, R. Redgrave, C. Stansfield, S. Smirke, R. Westmacott, and Professor Partridge. Among the associates were also Messrs. T. L. Cooper, W. Frost, P. F. Poole, E. W. Cooke, F. Goodall, G. G. Scott, B. O’Neil, R. G. Lane, and J. T. Willmore. Of the Council and members of the Royal Society there were the Rev. J. Barlow, Sir Roderick Murchison, Messrs. J. P. Guest, C. R. Weld, J. P. Gassiott, and R. W. Walton. The Council of the Institute of Civil Engineers was represented by Messrs. C. H. Gregory, T. Hawksley, J. Locke, M.P., Sir J. Rennie, F.R.S., Messrs. J. Simpson, C. Manby, F.R.S., T. H. Wyatt, J. Hawkshaw, F.R.S., J. R. Maclean, J. Cubitt, J. E. Errington, J. E. Harrison, J. D. Hemans, J. Murray, &c.; and the Council of the Architectural Museum by Messrs. E. Street, J. Clarke, R. Brandon, E. Christian, Rev. T. Scott, Messrs. G. Scharf, H. D. Chantrell, W. Slater, and J. Gibson. Of the Council and members of the Institute of British Architects there were Messrs. G. Godwin, F.R.S., T. L. Donaldson, M. D. Wyatt, V.P.S., J. H. Lewis, J. Bell, F. C. Penrose, F. J. Francis, G. Morgan, R. A. Romeau, J. H. Stevens, G. Vulliamy, B. Ferrey, C. C. Nelson, J. Norton, Sir W. Farquhar, J. J. Scoles, I. Angell, H. Ashton, I. Bellamy, J. B. Bunning, D. Burton, F.R.S., C. Fowler, H. Kendall, D. Mocatta, A. Salvin, O. Jones, J. Pennethorne, and about 150 other members of the Institute and profession.
“Among the others attending were the Earl of Carlisle, the Duchess of Sutherland, Archdeacon Hale, Mr. A. Austin, of the Board of Works; Mr. Winkworth, Society of Arts; Mr. A. W. Franks, Society of Antiquaries; Mr. Henry Ottley, Society for the Encouragement of Fine Arts; the Hon. Arthur Gordon, &c.
“As many as could be accommodated in the choir having taken their seats, the solemn service proceeded by the choir’s chanting with melancholy impressiveness Handel’s ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth,’ and the mournful cadences of Purcell’s 90th Psalm. The Dean then read the lesson, after which the choir again sang, ‘When the ear heard,’ &c. The procession was then reformed, and moved slowly to the side of the grave amid the most solemn silence.
“At the edge of this the coffin was deposited while the choir chanted in a subdued tone Croft’s touching anthem, ‘Man that is born of woman has but a short time to live,’ and ‘In the midst of life we are in death.’ The coffin was then slowly lowered to its last resting place, amid the unrestrained emotion of the mourners and friends. The Dean then proceeded with the rest of the service, which was listened to with the most profound silence, broken only by the sharp harsh rattle of the earth as it was strewed on the coffin. The choir then chanted ‘I heard a voice from Heaven,’ and still more impressively the anthem, ‘His body is buried in peace, but his name liveth for evermore.’ The ceremony concluded with the benediction pronounced by the Dean, and the solemn music of the Dead March rang through the Abbey, while the relatives and friends pressed forward to take a last glimpse of all that remained of the gifted Sir Charles Barry. A flag was hoisted in the Victoria Tower half-mast high during the day, and, as long as that tower stands, its great founder will need no other memorial of his fame with posterity.”[122]