This question of originality, always recurring in the career of every great artist, in fact of every distinguished man, is often most inconsiderately handled. It is clear that the progressiveness of man depends on the power, which each generation has, of using and modifying the work of its predecessors. Every great epoch in science and in art has had its period of anticipation and preparation. It is the characteristic of genius to create out of materials common and well known to all; and its creations are universally recognised and accepted, as the clear and beautiful expression of that which is vaguely felt by the generality of men. If a man, in order to be original, defies established principles, and despises the treasures of the past, he voluntarily places himself on a level below that which has been already attained by humanity. Originality, in the true sense of the word, implies that ideas and suggestions from without shall be truly appreciated, studied, and reproduced with the stamp of native thought and imagination upon them, to individualize what is general, and to harmonize materials in themselves crude or uncongenial. Then, and generally speaking not till then, can we hope for a new creation, which shall be true, and therefore permanent, in harmony with that which has gone before, and therefore capable of striking a new key-note not unaccordant with the old. In this sense it cannot be denied that Mr. Barry’s work was original. Simple details excepted, he copied little or nothing. Every design was conceived and moulded into shape, before he referred to a book or drawing. His mind was teeming with the stores of memory; but, when he borrowed an idea either from the works of the past or the advice and criticism of the present, it was sure to be modified or replaced by some fresh kindred idea of his own. External influence was with him only suggestive; it set his mind in motion, but did not dictate the direction in which it should proceed. “Where we have an opportunity” (says the memoir already quoted) “of tracing the progress of his thoughts through a series of studies for any particular building, we find the work growing, as it were, evenly under his hand from the slightest generalization in the first small-scale sketch, to the plotted-out bay or repeat, and subsequently to the large-scale detail; then back again to another general elevation, to see how far that particular detail will work well in combination, then altered according to the result of that test, and roughed out again on a large scale to make sure of the effect of the parts when near the eye, and so on, till his fastidious judgment would be almost bewildered under the multiplying and conflicting impressions produced by the various studies. The man who works perseveringly in this way may at least make sure of two things--that his work will be good, and that it will be his own.”[42]