The Campanile is probably College’s most endearing piece of architecture, standing proudly at the juncture between Front Square and Library Square. It is a mystery to many, no stranger to myth and though it is much loved by students and visitors alike, architecturally it is problematic. Its ancestry is complex and many alternatives were proposed for the highly coveted site. The factors leading to the creation of the Campanile can only be understood in the context of the establishment of Front Square itself.
Front Square is something of an oasis within the city centre. Stepping through the narrow portal at Front Arch provides immediate respite from the chaos of College Green. Combined with Library Square behind it, the space as a whole is vast. Speaking to The University Times, Trinity Pro-Chancellor Dr Edward McParland said that “one of the most important things about Front Square is the sense of enclosure and people come in and feel as if they’re in a different world”, explaining that “it’s the classic architectural trick of movement from one monumental space to another monumental space through a constricted space”.
Paradoxically, with its powerful neoclassical ranges, the space radiates a sense of calm through its methodical arrangement and mysterious ability to block out the noise from the outside world. The bright, ascetic ranges of the West Front are punctuated by the commanding facades of the Chapel and Exam Hall, and looming behind them, the buildings of Library Square frame two spectacular Oregon Maple trees. The two great courts are anchored by the Campanile in the centre, and the piazza as a whole is a grand formal entrance unrivalled in scale or quality by any other in Britain and Ireland.
It’s the classic architectural trick of movement from one monumental space to another monumental space through a constricted space
With such grandeur and strict order, it would appear that the present arrangement of Front Square was the result of careful planning. However, it was actually realised by chance. The resolute facades reveal little of the haphazard history which came before, involving a slew of demolished structures, unrealised buildings and partially executed plans. Although the buildings as they stand today are some of the finest examples of 18th and 19th-century architecture in the country, and the impact of the space is magnificent, hints of abandoned plans remain but scarcely tell the story of what could have been.
The architectural history of the College dates back to 1592 when the first foundation stones were laid on the former site of Old Hallows Monastery. Although the modern university bears no resemblance to the Elizabethan campus, composed primarily of low red brick ranges, the predecessor of today’s Front Square can be seen in what was known then as the Great Court. The 18th century marked the beginning of a significant phase of construction from which we have the earliest surviving college buildings. In 1700 a substantial Royal Grant helped accelerate the construction of a new Library Square. Originally the square was completely enclosed by three residential ranges: the Rubrics on the eastern end, and two identical ranges to the north and west that were attached to the Old Library. The block was imposing and repetitive in character, far from the inviting nature of the square today.
With financial support from parliament, Front Square was begun in 1752 with the construction of the West Front designed by Theodore Jacobsen. The controlled neoclassicism of the West Front matched the dignity of the neighbouring Parliament House, but most importantly, its projecting arms formed the basis for the new enclosure of Front Square. A large octagonal dome was planned for the central pavilion of the West Front with two minor domes on the flanking pavilions which went unrealised. The structural basis for the dome remains in the octagonal vestibule at Front Arch. McParland explains that had the dome been constructed “Regent’s House would have been Octagonal” and that the dome would have acted as a major “focal point for the street down from Dublin Castle to Parliament House”.
Dominating this new square was Richard Castle’s Bell Tower, with the accompanying Chapel and Dining Hall of the 1740s. The building was a single complex, which was attached to the Western range of Library Square. The Bell Tower is the closest historical precedent for the Campanile, even if it was immense in comparison. The structure as a whole was short lived.
The Dining Hall, described in contemporary accounts as “the coldest room in Europe”, was rebuilt within 20 years and by the end of the century, the Bell Tower was highly unstable. The Bell Tower occupied a far more imposing position significantly closer to Front Arch. Its exact dimensions are unknown, but “The Dublin Volunteers on College Green” by Francis Wheatley, which hangs in the National Gallery, gives a rare impression of the enormity of the tower.
In 1780, Library Square and Front Square were markedly differentiated from one another, and it wasn’t until Chamber’s execution of a new Chapel and Theatre did the square realise its present-day unity. McParland explains that the then-decrepit bell tower complex did not sit with Chamber’s vision of axial symmetry, and “he signed [its] death sentence by putting up his Exam Hall” and the later addition of its twin structure, the Chapel. The structure was demolished in 1837 as well as two of the ranges at Library Square shortly after, replaced on the northern end by the Graduates Memorial Building, which was completed in 1902. Chamber’s alterations to Front Square established the great axial vista that exists today, though it left college architects to solve the problem of what to do with the large central void.
The Bell Tower is the closest historical precedent for the Campanile, even if it was immense in comparison
The strictly divided squares had suddenly become “ambiguous”, says McParland, and a competition was announced in 1833 for a new building for the space, which was to hold a museum, lecture rooms and was to feature a campanile. With the prominence of the site firmly in mind, submissions were ambitious statements of pomp and circumstance.
A proposal from Frederick Darley shows a monumental temple fronted building with an accompanying rotunda and Classical-coffered dome, reminiscent of the authority of the Pantheon, with a bell tower above. Francis Goodwin’s offering was similarly momentous: a light-flooded rotunda punctuated by a series of circular windows at the perimeter of the dome supported by a Corinthian colonnade.
However, plans for the building went unexecuted.
College architects were advised not to close off the two squares. Instead, they were recommended to construct “a small but mighty architectural object with a central arched opening from East to West”. The Campanile was the solution to this, and was designed by Charles Lanyon in the 1850s. The tower was intended to be flanked by arcaded pavilions on either side, but these were never executed.
The Campanile now takes pride of place. But it poses two main problems, the first being its stylistic inconsistencies. Speaking to The University Times, Prof Christine Casey from Trinity’s Department of Art History and Architecture explained that while the Campanile is a “handsome” and “well-made structure”, it is overall “not a great work of architecture… it’s all singing, all dancing” as the base and the bell tower do not relate to each other well.
“It definitely provides focus and it is a bit fanciful, which isn’t such a bad thing given the sobriety of the other buildings”, Casey said.
The second issue surrounding the campanile is its isolation within the court. “It’s not part of the symphony”, said McParland. The problem with the design of Front Square, he said, was the fact that it’s only linked by one grand entrance. “It is a great loss that moving into Fellow’s Square or Botany Bay or New Square there are just holes in the perimeter, there’s nothing monumental. That’s because of the historical development. It was never designed to be a single grand space, it just turned out to be one”, he said.
The Campanile’s predecessors are now long forgotten, and what College may have lost in additional monumental building, it gained in tranquillity and order so rarely achieved at the heart of a city.
