CHAPTER I
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1795-1817.
EARLY LIFE AND EDUCATION.
Object of the work--Birth of Charles Barry--His childhood, schooldays, and apprenticeship--His early efforts and amusements--His self-education and its effects on his character--His determination to travel--His matrimonial engagement.
In the compilation of this memoir of my late father I have endeavoured to keep two objects in view. It is desired, on the one hand, to preserve for his family and his many personal friends some record of his private life and character. It is thought, on the other, that there will be some public value and interest in a notice of his opinions, designs, and works, and a general record of his professional career.
Even to the public at large it is conceived that his life, though it presents but little variety of incident, may yet be worth telling. He started with no advantages of birth, and with an imperfect education; he was supported by no influential connection or school of art, and was aided by no patronage except that which his own merit commanded. He won for himself a place among the foremost architects of Europe, not more by his talents than by a life-long devotion to his art, and an extraordinary power of work. Having earned this high position, he paid its usual penalty in the many difficulties and misrepresentations, which are inevitable to a professional career, and which, though they may be stoutly met, tend, far more than any mere work, to wear out the energies and shorten the life. The interest of biography seems to lie, not so much in variety of event, as in its illustration of human character, and the ordinary conditions of human life. It is hoped that this interest may not be altogether wanting in the following pages.
By his professional brethren it will probably be thought, that the history of so many public and private works, and of the questions raised and decided in connection with them, may bear on some points important to the profession at large, and that the grounds and the nature of the architectural principles, which he maintained, may excite interest, even where they do not secure agreement. It is not unlikely that the record of such a life as his may throw some light on the remarkable progress and diffusion of artistic taste, which appear to mark our own time, transforming the whole aspect of our country, and not indirectly affecting our national character. Since he entered on his career the forms of Art have changed, and its principles have been developed or modified. With some of these changes he strongly sympathized; others he strenuously resisted. But, in either case, the record of a life of ceaseless architectural activity, and of a mind keenly alive to artistic influences--readily impressible, and bound to no special school--must tend to illustrate the movements which have taken place, and are taking place still, in his own special province of Art.
It is for these reasons that the following memoir has been undertaken. In performing such a duty, it would be useless and unbecoming in a son to affect a position of independent criticism, or to claim credit for a strict impartiality. It can only be expected that he should record his father’s career as it was seen from his own point of view, and sketch his character as it appeared to those who loved him best. It can only be required that he observe strict truthfulness and accuracy as to facts, and due consideration for the feelings of others. If these limitations be observed (and I trust that in the following pages they will be observed most sacredly), experience has shown that such a record is likely to contain at least a large and essential portion of the whole truth. There will be subjects indeed on which it can only give the materials for judgment; for, where criticism is precluded, eulogium is at least equally out of place. But such correction and completion as it requires may be safely left to the impartial judgment of its readers.
In most cases its influence on the reputation of its subject is but a secondary one. The true and lasting reputation of a man will depend very little on any other memorial than the work which he has done, and the influence which he has exerted in his life-time; and on the results which he has thus left behind for the use and the verdict of posterity.
* * * * *
CHARLES BARRY, the fourth son of Walter Edward and Frances Barry, was born in Bridge Street, Westminster, on the 23rd of May, 1795, in a house which (until last year) lay under the shadow of the Clock Tower of the New Palace at Westminster.
His father was a stationer of great respectability and some wealth,[2] as is seen by the fact that he supplied, in the course of his business, the materials used at the Government Stationery Office. His mother died in 1798, when he was a little more than three years old; but her place was supplied (so far as a mother’s place can be) by the care and affection of his stepmother, Sarah, to whom his father was married shortly after, and to whom, at his death in 1805, he left the care of his children, and of the business which was to support them. Most thoroughly did she fulfil the charge, and reap her due reward of respect and gratitude. Of the whole family he alone, even from his childhood, manifested artistic taste and capacity, and chose for himself, in spite of all difficulties, a new path in life. These difficulties were then far greater than they would be now, in a less stationary condition of society, with greater facilities for change and travel, and greater opportunities of artistic and general education. There was little in his home life to foster any high aspirations, although perhaps its wholesome atmosphere of honesty and regularity, of steady industry and “habits of business,” supplied a corrective influence much needed by an enthusiastic and artistic temperament.
He had little advantage of education. He went with his brothers to various private schools, such as schools then were. The first seems to have been a mere preparatory school; of the second, the only account preserved is that the “master paid little attention to it, being very dissolute, and absenting himself for weeks together;” and the last school, though perhaps rather better than the rest, was apparently one of those which attempted only mechanical teaching and severe discipline. Education, in the highest sense of the word, seems hardly to have been dreamt of. He carried away from it little except a superficial knowledge of English, a good proficiency in arithmetic, and a remarkably beautiful handwriting.
The account of his early days speaks of him as merely a warm-hearted and spirited boy, handsome and engaging in appearance, not very studious, full of fun, and by no means averse to mischief. His only remarkable talent was his taste for drawing; in this he was taught by a most incompetent man, and his best practice was in caricatures, especially of his drawing-master. The imperfection of his early training he always felt and regretted, in spite of his zealous efforts to supply its deficiencies. For, not to speak of the external difficulties which it threw in his way, it is obvious enough that his impulsive disposition, quick observation, and susceptible mind, especially needed the bracing and strengthening influence of a good education.
On leaving school, at the age of fifteen, he was articled to Messrs. Middleton and Bailey, architects and surveyors, of Paradise Row, Lambeth. With them he remained six years. Both took a strong and affectionate interest in him, and from them he received all the professional training which he ever enjoyed. Their business was mainly that of surveying; he could have learnt little with them of the artistic element of architecture. But his time was not wasted; for he studied accurately and industriously the “business” of his profession. Lists of prices, calculations of dimensions, methods of measuring and valuation, crowd his note-book, side by side with studies from Chambers’ Architecture, and sketches of such details and ornaments as struck his own fancy. In the later part of his time much responsibility was thrown upon him, and responsibility he never refused. The fruit was seen in after life in his excellent habits of business, and his ability to prepare his own working drawings, make out his own specifications and estimates, and form a sound judgment of materials and work. This knowledge stood him in good stead; he never failed to impress its importance on young architects; and, though he would not for a moment have allowed it to take equal rank with artistic power, he regarded the frequent neglect of it, and the increasing tendency to separate it from the higher province of art, as a serious evil, both in theory and in practice.
But he could not be satisfied with this semi-mechanical work. His name appears regularly in 1812, 1813, 1814, and 1815 in the architectural part of the catalogue of the Royal Academy. His first drawing, there exhibited when he was seventeen years old, still remains. It was a drawing of the interior of Westminster Hall, the building which (as has been well said) “was in after-days to give the key-note to his greatest work.” His other designs “For a Church,” “A Museum and Library,” “A Nobleman’s Mansion,” &c., have all perished. They had served their purpose, and were no doubt destroyed by himself, for he was always ruthless both in his criticism and his treatment of his early designs.
At an earlier age (about fifteen or sixteen) his artistic taste had found a much more curious development. There was much of the boy in him still (as indeed there was in all his after-life), and he did not disdain boyish fancies and amusements. Accordingly he resolved to transform his small attic bedroom into a “hermitage,"--“a rocky interior,” “with openings looking out on a sunny landscape.” The mechanical work and the painting he did entirely himself, working at it in all his spare time with constant delight; and when it was done, he kept up its character by using it as a painting-room, and drawing constantly figures of all kinds on a large scale on its walls. His family noticed all this with some wonder and amusement; he himself, though he used to laugh at it in after-life, remembered it with a kind of pleasure. These details may seem trivial, but they were certainly characteristic. The work must have given boldness to his hand (as scene-painting has done to some of our great painters); it may not improbably have helped to kindle and foster his imagination, and at the same time to satisfy that delight in alteration and contrivance which always was conspicuous in him.
In every respect his home was a simple and a happy one. If it did not stimulate artistic tastes, it certainly allowed them perfect freedom, and gave them the support of admiration and sympathy. His character, in spite of his fondness for change and amusement, was always strongly domestic. In his work, and the society of his mother (for so he always esteemed her) and his brothers, he found all the interest he cared for. Such are the records of his early days. They are scanty enough; but they are corroborated by the recollections of his later life, for his was a character that changed but little.
It is evident from these that he was in every sense of the word a self-educated man, and the recognition of this fact is most important, for the true appreciation of his character, and a right understanding of his career.
Even in general education this was strikingly the case. He carried away very little from school. His very journals show that he had to acquire for himself not only a knowledge of French and Italian (which he mastered sufficiently for all practical purposes), but even correctness and fluency of English. They show, during his foreign journey, almost as great progress in style as in thought--a progress gained, as usual with him, not so much by systematic study as by a certain “readiness of mind” and an unwearied practice. Mathematics and theoretical mechanics he had studied but little, and in fact he had little taste for such study. Their practical conclusions, as bearing on his own profession, he knew familiarly enough; and his mind was not only quick in its deductions from them, and bold even to the verge of rashness, but singularly fertile in all kinds of mechanical contrivance. But of systematic study of theory he was impatient. He could often, though at some risk, supersede it for himself by a kind of intuition, and he perhaps never estimated it at its true value.
But much more was this the case in all that regarded his own profession. No powerful mind had by its contact fired and influenced his; no deep course of study had imbued him with profound and systematic principles. He had gained “business” experience and practical knowledge; his strong natural tastes and powers had been cordially and kindly recognised, but in all that concerns the higher element of his profession he was left alone to find his way by his own observations and inductions to the first principles of Art. His natural character--vigorous, impulsive, and energetic--was allowed to grow by its own power, and to choose for itself both the method and the direction of growth.
The chief consequence was, as usual, an intense and absorbing devotion to the art which he had chosen as his work in life. He found it difficult to take any deep interest in anything else. In the political and social questions of the day he would often adopt the opinions of others. All his originality and his thought were already pre-occupied. In the service of architecture he held everything cheap; time, labour, and health were sacrificed as a matter of course; and keenly sensitive as he was to blame, yet he would defy the opinion of the world in search of what he deemed perfection.
His art was scarcely at any time absent from his mind, even in times of social relaxation or of more serious employment. He could hardly enter a room without seeing capabilities in it, and longing to develope them. But when an important design was in progress, it seemed to take entire possession of his mind. It was his custom to work it out almost wholly for himself, in its scientific and financial as well as its artistic bearings. His extraordinary rapidity of execution and untiring industry enabled him to keep up this custom to a great extent, even in his busiest times. In fact, when a design was once conceived--when it had once taken possession of his imagination--hard work at it was a relief. The idea of it would occur to him at his first waking, and he could not but rise, however early the hour, and set to work. Adverse criticism at such a time was rejected or disregarded, but a few days later it would be found to have sunk into his mind unconsciously; then it would be rapidly seized upon as if original, and its results, often greatly modified and reconstructed, would be produced in the most perfect good faith as new, perhaps to the very person who had first made the criticism. Difficulties were forgotten or defied in the attempt to perfect the idea conceived; drawings of the more important parts of the work altered scores of times until his fastidious taste was satisfied. He could not conceive the idea of resting contented with what was acknowledged to be defective, and he held that the word “impossible” was to be erased from his dictionary. In this absorbing devotion to his art lay the cause of infinite labour, many troubles, and much misapprehension, but in it lay, as usual, the secret of success.
Another effect of this early freedom and self-direction was a vigorous growth of self-reliance and originality. It perhaps entailed some want of philosophic symmetry and largeness of view, especially at a time when there was comparatively little study of great principles of art as based on substantial reason. Grounds of criticism were then sought by the generality in conventional rules, and by the more active minds in arbitrary conceptions of “taste,” till society was divided into the connoisseurs, who were to pronounce their arbitrary judgment, and the “ignobile vulgus,” who were obediently and ignorantly to accept their conclusions. Yet it gave him the power of progress, and it kept him also free from any tendency to bigotry and copyism. There is indeed the highest kind of originality, which combines philosophic knowledge and study with the power of a true development. But in practice, especially in the domain of art, the most important steps of progress are probably due to men of a happy intuition and an unscientific audacity, and such men are usually men who have guided and educated themselves.
He himself was avowedly and on principle an eclectic. He could not help recognising the excellences of various schools: but he knew too much to be satisfied with any single one, as if it were all-comprehensive, and to conclude accordingly that to it alone praise and devotion are due. His principles of design and construction had been worked out for himself, the fruit of many crude conceptions in theory and many trials in practice. For that very reason they became so deeply rooted in his mind, that, when he attempted to change his course, he found himself insensibly returning to them. His early study of Greek architecture did not prevent his appreciation of Italian and Gothic; and so he stood apart from the exclusive devotion to one or other style which now seems to divide the architectural profession. Such a position is a difficult and dangerous one, in art, as well as in politics or theology, but those who occupy it supply the chief resisting influence to stagnation, and open some of the chief avenues of progress. In his case it was all but inevitable; his natural character, and his early freedom from the trammels of any school of art, forbade his taking any other course. For even in his early days those characteristics were fixed which determined his after career.
With these capabilities, and with a fixed and hopeful resolution to cut out a path for himself, he passed through his time of pupilage, and attained his majority in 1816. He now began to act for himself, and he at once conceived, or perhaps after long consideration declared openly, a determination on which much of his future success depended. He was naturally formed to make his way in the world. To the mental qualities already enumerated he added the advantages of a handsome person, great fascination of manner, high spirits, and a sanguine temperament, which was well calculated to inspire confidence and win affection. He believed that he had the elements of success in him, and that he only needed freedom of scope and a more extended sphere than he could obtain at home. The result verified his belief. Perhaps the prophecy fulfilled itself.
By his father’s will, he and each of his brothers had inherited a certain sum of money, and the remainder of this inheritance, diminished by the expense of his education and his articles, now came into his hands. The sum was not a large one, and it was his all, for he had little expectations of assistance from without in entering on the risks of a professional career. He resolved to devote the whole, or the greater part of it, to an architectural tour.
The Continent was just opened by the peace of 1815. All English society was awaking from the torpor and isolation of the great European war. Architecture was receiving a fresh stimulus by the cessation of external difficulties, and fresh principles and models from abroad were breaking in upon its stereotyped forms. He naturally felt, with all the impressibility of his character, the influence of this universal movement; and at the same time, from deliberate consideration, he saw that his only chance of developing the power and satisfying the desires of which he was conscious, his only chance of gaining a thorough grasp of his art, and taking a high stand in his profession, lay in foreign travel. His mind wanted objects which the narrow and prosaic character of his home life could not supply. It wanted the intercourse of a society from which conventional barriers shut it out in England; it wanted scope for activity, and models by which its activity might be guided. Without foreign travel he might have had the certainty of a respectable position and sufficient emoluments in his profession; with it he took the risk of delay and difficulty, and the chance of a noble career.
The choice was not likely to cause him much hesitation. He decided at once, and kept to his decision firmly, in spite of the natural remonstrances of his family, who felt the risk, but did not understand the necessity. Travel was then comparatively rare, and thought by many to be needless. It seemed madness to risk on it so much of his slender resources. His stepmother alone was led by her own strong good sense, and by her unlimited confidence in him, to give him her decided support. At last his plans were fixed, and his journey, the length of which he did not anticipate, or at any rate did not disclose, was determined upon.
Before he left England he was engaged to Miss Sarah Rowsell. Her father, Mr. Samuel Rowsell, was employed in the same line of business which his own father had followed. After about a year’s acquaintance, the engagement was made on the eve of his departure; and with this fresh tie to home, and fresh incentive to exertion, he left England in June, 1817.
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