Something of the night ... Augustus John's portrait of Sir Montague Norman
It's not only financial treasures housed in the Bank of England, as the venerable institution's new museum shows
Deep within the great stone cliff of the Bank of England, governor Mervyn King smiled apologetically at the crimson splendour ("not absolutely to my taste") of the ante-chamber leading to the Committee Room where the Monetary Policy Committee meets to set interest rates under Augustus John's magnificent portrait of his predecessor, Montagu Norman.
The deceptively sombre portrait of a supremely tricky looking man, draped in a soft brown overcoat, and holding a large black hat in long clever fingers, was loaned two years ago to the Tate's exhibition on Augustus and Gwen John, where it knocked every other painting out of the ring.
"The greatest picture in our collection by far," said Mr King, who only took over three years ago, and has a long way to go before he catches up on Sir Montagu, governor from 1920 until 1944.
When Augustus John finished the portrait, Sir Montagu refused to accept it as a likeness: "He's made me look like Mephistopheles," he said, an objection others saw as a tribute to its accuracy.
Certainly, architectural historians regard Sir Montagu as having more than something of the night about him: this was the man who decided to demolish Sir John Soane's masterpiece, and rebuild the bank, five storeys taller, on the same cramped site in the heart of the City of London.
Nikolaus Pevsner wrote: "The virtual rebulding of the Bank of England in 1921-37 is - in spite of the Second World War - the worst individual loss suffered by London architecture in the first half of the 20th century."
The job went to Sir Herbert Baker, who packed in the floor space along Threadneedle Street - seven storeys above ground and three below, on a 3.5-acre site - but tried to keep some of the spirit of Soane in the long vaulted corridors and high windows. According to Mr King, Sir Edwin Lutyens also pitched for the commission, but after being shown around said it would be a fine place for a 'thé dansant', a frivolous crack which lost him the job on the spot.
Only the great blind curtain wall running the length of Princes Street survives of the building Soane called the "the pride and boast of my life".
There's just a hint of the lost majesty of the original building in the banking hall reconstructed from original drawings in the 1980s to house the bank's surprisingly jolly museum.
The museum has just reopened after refurbishment, complete with an exhibition of 500 money boxes. The reconstructed hall incorporates some classic Soanian tricks, such as coloured glass panels to manipulate light: curator John Keyworth's favourite time is early morning, when daylight pours in through high yellow glass and the stone starts to glow as if lit from inside.
Mr King - who was on the interest rates committee for many years before becoming governor - is tremendously anxious that all visitors sit down and watch the museum's video on the malevolent history of inflation. He reminds us half a dozen times to watch it, before courteously excusing himself, and returning to his own much less grand office where a pile of papers awaits his attention.
