Though many of the portraits are copies—and some very inferior ones—the general charm of the collection is the striking merit of the workmanship. There are some scenes by Zoffany, in his most brilliant manner, miracles of gay colour and vivid touch—the well-known scene from “The Clandestine Marriage,” with the portraits of King and Mrs. Baddeley, is, in my opinion, the gem of the whole, and, if put up for sale, would fetch a very large sum. It is astonishing that this fine and spirited painter, who inherited his style from Hogarth, should not be more valued. The fine bravura portraits of Woodward and Cibber in the dining-room are very striking, as well as the many works of that brilliant painter, Clint. The stage antiquarian will be amused at the contemporary scenes of the Garrick era. The great actor as Macbeth, with the daggers, etc., appearing in a wig and coat and long scarlet waistcoat—“like the Lord Mayor’s coachman,” it was said.
The club possesses many theatrical “curios” and relics. Shoe-buckles, snuff-boxes, etc., of this and that celebrated performer. It acquired lately what I look on as the most characteristic and valuable theatrical collection that exists, viz., three stout volumes of bills, sketches and criticisms, gathered by one Nixon, an artist who flourished towards the end of last century, and not only knew Garrick, Kemble, Kean and the rest, but had a knack of sketching them. There is a portrait of Irving by Millais, presented by the actor, but it is scarcely worthy of the artist. Strange to say its library is its weakest part; though there is a fair gathering of plays and memoirs, this department is not so strong as it should be.
This Garrick is a pleasant place of tryst, and has that motley complexion which makes it more agreeable. Here are found all the actors of established position—littérateurs, soldiers, lawyers. The “Father of the Club” still happily flourishes at a great age—a link with the past.
As we enter the great church-like hall of the Law Courts, we notice that to the right one of the lower arches is filled in with a memorial to the architect of the structure, the late Mr. Street. There is a large sitting figure, well sculptured, a monumental inscription of high compliment and panegyric in which it is conveyed to the spectator that all the wonders he sees about are the single work of this man thus celebrated. The result is singular, as the stranger naturally turns to survey the work which had brought its creator such unusual honour. He sees a hall with painted windows, which any architect of the time could have designed, while through the door he is led away, to the right and left, through catacombs and dark passages. This exhausts the effect of the interior, and no one surely deserves a memorial, meaning plainly “si monumentum requiris, circumspice,” who had contrived such a combination.
Granting that the hall is harmonious and pleasing, albeit narrow and thin from its length, this introduction of the monument is surely a curious instance of the inappropriate; though we might understand and accept a tablet in a retired place which recorded the single fact that Mr. Street had designed and built the work. This bold flamboyant structure, which engrosses and encroaches on the architectural work, disturbs the coup d’œil and entraps the spectator; for he expects to find the glories of some eminent lawyer or judge in whom the entire kingdom is interested. It is utterly out of keeping, and causes us on the instant to challenge its right to be there at all.
In Brussels, as we look down from the Place Royale, we see at the bottom of the hill the magnificent Palais de Justice, a stately monument, worthy of the Cæsars and of the race which reared the Town Hall at Ypres. This building may be objected to in many points, but there can be no question as to the grandeur of the architect’s conception and the thorough logic and grasp of detail which distinguishes it. It really astounds one to think of this modest, unpretending little kingdom, rearing without fuss or show so
THE LAW COURTS
splendid a pile, massive and enduring as the Pyramids, and conveying to all Belgians a stately, dignified embodiment of the law. This work will be standing and admired as a wonder hundreds of years hence. But with our great kingdom, after years of consultations, selection, debate, changing and rechanging, doing and undoing, after endless chatter about “the New Law Courts,” “progress of the New Law Courts,” “Street’s great work,” etc., the result is the cluster of odds and ends to be seen at the entrance of Fleet Street! If an architect had purposely contrived to give the effect of a number of detached buildings and “dependences,” added one to the other at different times, he could not have been more successful. One could fancy the idea of a great central hall being conceived with a row of courts on each side. The great hall would then be the prominent object, and express itself in a demonstrative way; it would be seen from afar, with its courts attached to the side in a less obtrusive fashion. But the hall shrinks back from the front, and seems to hide itself behind the unmeaning-looking porch, over which runs the curious little Gothic gallery. The two octagonal towers in front are obtrusive enough, and claim more attention than the hall, yet they only hold dark spiral staircases, which lead to the court gallery at the side, though they affect to have some duty connected with the hall.