CHAPTER XI - Royal Albert Hall
More, even, than the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Royal
Albert Hall owes its existence to Henry Cole, secretary of the Science and Art
Department. The growth of the museum was nourished by a widespread wish for
something of the kind: the hall was far more the creation of individual wills,
and chiefly of Cole's.
It was built between 1867 and 1871, to the design of
Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Scott, R.E. (1822–83), based on a design by
Captain Francis Fowke, R.E. (b. 1823), who had died in December 1865. Both
Scott and Fowke were attached to Cole's Department, and although that
Department was not officially associated with the hall each was assisted by
other members of its design-staff. The various contributions to the final
design cannot be stated definitely but it is clear that the hall owes its
general form and much of its internal arrangement to Fowke and his assistants,
whereas the exterior and the specific character of the architecture inside and
out is mainly owed to Scott and his helpers. (For this chapter see Plates
29d, 48, 49, 50, 51,
52, 53, 54, 55c, 72b.)
The hall represents, as Marcus Binney has noted, (ref. 1) two distinct aspirations—one for a
large chorus or music hall, and another for a conference centre to serve the
needs of the learned world. Both objectives appealed to Cole, as they did to
the Prince Consort, but it is evident that Cole, whose love of music,
'theatricals', and publicity is apparent thoughout his life, was chiefly
excited by the idea of a large hall of popular appeal, whereas the
circumstances in which it was begun, on the estate of the 1851 Exhibition
Commissioners and in some sort of commemoration of the Prince, seemed to
require it to be formally dedicated to the service of science and art.
One respect in which the hall as built was consonant with
the Prince's ideas was in its financing by private rather than public money.
This approach was even more congenial to Cole, whose sanguine temper and
fertile brain turned him readily to the investing public as a source of
capital, and this cast of mind was one of the factors that gave the hall its
ultimate character.
As early as 1853 the Prince had been thinking that the
Royal Academy of Music might like to build a 'music hall' on the Commissioners'
estate, on the south side of Cromwell Road. (ref. 2) Donaldson, Cockerell and Pennethorne included halls
here or elsewhere on the Commissioners' estate in layouts suggested by them at
that time—some being circular. (ref. 3)
This idea came to nothing but in 1855 a 'large covered building suitable for
the performance of Music' was (Cole says) intended to be the centre of a
private development suggested by the Prince for the present Victoria and Albert
Museum site. It would have been surrounded by a quadrangle of shops and flats
with museum- and art-galleries above them. (ref. 4) This idea also fell through but for ten years the
project strongly influenced Cole's ideas about the physical form of a hall
complex.
In summer 1857 Cole was planning a great music hall
'constructed with due regard to the principles of sound'. The Prince was
unwilling to back it directly but Cole consulted with the builder John Kelk and
produced a scheme for an enormous amphitheatre. (ref. 5) Within it, 30,000 people could 'assemble and practise
chorus singing', providing 'a new and beneficial attraction especially to
thousands of artizans who now seek their evening amusements in debasing
pursuits and temptations'. Cole was envisaging it with straight sides and
rounded ends, probably placed within a surrounding rectangle of galleries. It
would have been built by a Chorus Hall Company and financed both by
life-subscribers 'desirous of promoting the Moral improvement of the people and
of being present at the concerts, shows etc' and by ordinary shareholders
attracted by promises of a good dividend. (ref. 6)
Soon another international exhibition was in prospect at
the southern end of the Commissioners' estate, and the great hall was adopted
by the authorities into their plans. In 1859 Fowke as the exhibition's
architect was planning a gigantic straight-sided amphitheatre, perhaps as much
as 600 by 300 by 220 feet, and holding 26,000 people, as the main feature of
his building (Plate 30b). It was only abandoned at a
late stage in the preparations, in February 1861.
Two or three months later a private company of 'musical
amateurs' was proposing to replace it by a temporary circular hall holding
10,000 people, to house concerts under Alfred Mellon. It would have been
financed by the sale of shares in the profit from a year's working. It is not
known if Cole had anything to do with it and the idea seems to have come to
nothing. The site would have been at the north end of the estate, and
approximately that of the present hall. (ref. 7)
In the following year thoughts about a hall at South
Kensington were taking a different turn. At the end of 1861 the Prince had
died, and among the various means of commemorating him a hall more or less on
the present site was considered. It was especially a cherished idea of General
Charles Grey, the Prince's former and the Queen's present secretary, whose zeal
for the project throughout its changing forms was hardly less than Cole's. (He
died in 1870, just before it was finished, and is commemorated in the hall by a
bust which Cole commissioned from the sculptor Boehm in 1876. (ref. 8) ) The hall, however, was being visualized as a much
more modest structure than Cole's amphitheatre. This was because, if
commemorative, it ought to have been some sort of fulfilment of the Prince's
very imperfectly realized schemes for the main quadrangle of the Commissioners'
estate, where he had envisaged a hall less as a great popular resort than as a
'centre of union' for the various societies cultivating science and the arts
which he wished to attract to the area. Chiefly, it was to house the meetings
or conversaziones of savants. The societies in question seemed unwilling to
move to South Kensington but there were still hopes that the National Gallery
or the Royal Academy might come from Trafalgar Square, and Grey recalled that
the Prince had thought of a hall of sculpture to form a grand entrance to the
galleries to be built for them on the estate. It would also afford a fine
northern approach to the garden of the Royal Horticultural Society, perhaps
through a great archway. (ref. 9) Grey became
enthusiastic for the hall of sculpture as an adjunct to the 'personal memorial'
to the Prince (the Albert Memorial) on the other side of the Kensington Road.
Cole added that it could be used for scholastic purposes, perhaps in connexion
with the industrial or technological 'university' that might be established at
South Kensington. (ref. 10) Edgar Bowring, the
Commissioners' secretary, also thought of it in this context. (ref. 11) At any rate a hall was likely to be, rather vaguely,
'useful', and calculated to enlist the support of such as Gladstone for a
subscription on behalf of the Prince's memorial.
In the summer of 1862 a committee of architects which had
been asked to advise by the memorial committee under the Conservative leader,
Lord Derby, suggested that a hall, or 'central point of union' of 'general
character', might be part of the memorial. (ref. 12) The vagueness of this notion was the object of some
ridicule. (ref. 13) But when a select group of
largely identical architects was asked for designs for a memorial layout a hall
was included in the 'programme'. The size very tentatively indicated to them
was modest—some 150 feet by 80 feet.
At the end of 1862 the architects produced their designs,
together with those for the personal memorial. Events were to rob them of much
practical importance in the history of the hall, and it is therefore of the
less significance that only two designs, T. L. Donaldson's and (more partially)
P. C. Hardwick's, are known from illustrations, (ref. 14) although the plan of another, James Pennethorne's, is
recorded. (ref. 15) All three were classical
and rectangular, Donaldson's hall being placed parallel and the other two at
right angles to Kensington Road. The younger Charles Barry's hall was said to
be based on the chapel at Versailles: (ref. 16)
his brother E. M. Barry's had a portico and dome and would have held 3,000
persons. (ref. 17)
The remaining two architects' designs have a little more
long-term interest in the story of the hall. M. D. Wyatt proposed a top-lit
hall of fair size, circular in form with a diameter of 130 or 150 feet, in
alternative classical or Gothic versions. The significance of this is shadowy,
but he was the one architect of the seven who was to have a continuing
connexion with the hall as built, in an advisory role (being one of a committee
set up to aid Henry Scott in 1866), and an anonymous correspondent in
The Building News in 1874 suggested, for what it is
worth, that his design was the prototype of the hall as built: (ref. 18) it seems that in Fowke's or Henry Scott's hands the
hall design was, for a brief period, circular and not elliptical as built. (ref. 19) The other architect was Gilbert Scott,
who produced four drawings. He came nearest of any to designing the hall, but
in the end was totally excluded: unlike Wyatt, he was not one of Cole's
circle.
By his own description, Gilbert Scott's main offering was
a domed 'hall of science' based on Saint Sophia, employing sculpture, painting
and mosaic freely in decoration. He was moved to comment: 'I may safely say,
without being charged with self-praise, that if my design were carried out, it
would, after making due allowance for dimension, material, etc. be scarcely
excelled in beauty of form by any single and unbroken interior in existence.' A
second version interpreted the same design in a pointed-arch style and was, he
thought, no less fine. Two smaller and cheaper designs for rectangular halls
were again in semi-Byzantine and Gothic. (ref. 20) The Builder called Scott's
designs 'very fanciful and in their style very beautiful'. (ref. 16) Cole contented himself with noting, 'no utility in
the Hall'. (ref. 21)
Scott's design for the personal memorial was chosen, in
the spring of 1863. But it was obvious that it would swallow up all, or more
than all, the funds then available, and Lord Derby's committee relinquished the
hope of themselves building the hall also. Scott's estimates for this had
ranged between £57,000 and £90,000. (ref. 22) The 1851 Exhibition Commissioners had, however,
agreed to reserve the site for a hall. (ref. 23)
Scott addressed himself to the various problems posed by
the 'personal' memorial design, under a harassing fire of criticism from Cole,
who was meanwhile incubating fresh ideas to set before Grey for the
accomplishment of the hall. In the autumn of 1863 Cole wrote to Grey from
Vienna. He and the Department's art superintendent, Richard Redgrave, were
travelling in central Europe and looking into all the large halls they came to.
The 'Spanish Hall' in the Hradschin Palace in Prague was, Cole wrote, good for
sound but measured only 120 feet by 60 feet, whereas 'the Albert Hall should be
at least twice this size'. (ref. 24) On the
train home from Strasburg he wrote again, exposing his views more fully. He had
been sceptical of the success of a hall limited to the pursuit of science and
the arts and had already told Grey that it must be linked to all the activities
at South Kensington to make it popular. (ref. 25) Now that the initiative lay for the time being with
him he was turning the project back towards the gargantuan populist schemes.
The hall should be 300 feet by 200 feet and seat 15,000 people. It would cost
some £200,000, to be raised by the sale of debentures, giving a
transferable right of free admission, and of life-admissions. The fare to be
provided was listed: the meetings of learned, artistic and scientific
societies, Royal Horticultural Society flower-shows, the concerts of musical
societies, cheap organ-concerts, special art and industrial exhibitions,
occasional public meetings, public fetes, and uses ancillary to the annual or
decennial international exhibitions planned for adjacent sites in South
Kensington.
Henceforward the great hall was for Cole and those (like
Grey) influenced by him an object to be achieved regardless of any direct
utility for the cultivation of the arts and sciences narrowly conceived. It
was, furthermore, an object whose miscellaneous purposes would constitute a
very incoherent 'programme' for the architect of a unitary building.
Cole's design, however, was still at that stage the
straight-sided amphitheatre within a rectangle of flats, shops and galleries,
and therefore contained within itself at least the potentiality of a permanent
revenue applicable towards the running costs of the hall independent of the
'box office'. (ref. 26) Grey reminded doubters
that this element of commercial practicality was in accord with the Prince's
thinking. (ref. 27) The Queen agreed. (ref. 28)
Cole's scheme late in 1863 is indicated by a sketch plan
and section in the Victoria and Albert Museum (ref. 29) reproduced by Marcus Binney. (ref. 30) Cole and Henry Scott later thought that the section
was significantly close to what was built (fig. 30, top left, on page 187). (ref. 31)
With Gilbert Scott otherwise engaged the project was in
South Kensington hands, and it was to Richard Redgrave's son Gilbert, an
architectural draughtsman in the Department, that Cole's plans were first sent
for working out. (ref. 32) As the author of the
approved memorial design Gilbert Scott could hardly be ignored, but it seems to
have been only in March 1864 that Cole and he were discussing the hall. Then it
was in a sense that can hardly have been gratifying to him. According to Cole's
diary, he now suggested to Scott that the latter should design the exterior of
the building but that for the interior he should be only one of a committee of
four with Cole himself, Richard Redgrave and the Department's architect, Fowke.
Evidently in respect even of the exterior the final voice was to be with this
committee though Scott would have had a (probably ineffective) dual vote. The
question whether the building should be round or oblong was also discussed
between them. Scott, who 'inclined to an early Gothic with a tinge of
Byzantine', said that he would consider the proposition. (ref. 33) In June 1864 he produced a design for the exterior of
the surrounding rectangle. (ref. 34) An undated
lithograph probably shows what he intended (Plate 48b)
and in itself hints that, as Scott said later, he had in fact remained ignorant
of the internal arrangement. (ref. 35) He soon
learnt, however, that the exterior Cole wanted was limited to the Kensington
Gore front of a block of chambers to be built between the road and the
rectangular hall complex, to which it was to be only lightly attached. (ref. 36) Scott applied himself to this
task—for the sake of his own memorial opposite, it may be supposed, as
much as the hall's.
Meanwhile Grey had tried to arouse the personal enthusiasm
of Lord Derby, whose support as President of the 1851 Exhibition Commissioners
seemed essential. Derby was, however, very sceptical. He distrusted Cole's
hypothetical figures for receipts and expenditure: above all, he saw clearly
that the basis for the hall's success in aid of science and art was its use by
an appropriate range of as yet reluctant societies, chiefly but not only the
musical. (ref. 37)
Faced with this hesitation Cole forced the issue by a bold
act. In August 1864, while on the train to Norwich, he wrote to tell Grey what
he had decided. 'I have come to the conclusion that the only way to get the
Memorial Hall done is to do it!' He had therefore
determined to circulate a prospectus, appeal for subscribers himself, and then
go to the Commissioners for a lease of the site. His idea was to sell sittings
in the hall at £100 each: he had already sold three. 'I don't intend to
be beaten in this Matter and I intend to have the thing so advanced that please
God and the Queen, the first stone may be laid perhaps with that of the
personal memorial.' (ref. 38) With great energy
he then applied himself to canvassing for subscriptions among the highest ranks
of society. His resolution was rewarded by a declaration of the Queen's
approval, communicated to him by Grey with authority to make it known. (ref. 39) What Cole in his resourcefulness was
selling was not, now, shares and life-admissions but (conditional on a long
lease from the Commissioners) virtually freehold sittings. This was to have
very complicating consequences for the managers who later had to run the hall
essentially on its box-office takings.
Lord Derby remained to be convinced, but a greater object
was to win the active support of the Prince of Wales, and in January 1865 a
significant step towards this was taken when Cole and Richard Redgrave went to
Osborne to see the Prince, with Grey and his sympathetic colleague Sir Charles
Phipps in attendance. Cole saw the visit in terms of his working sessions at
Osborne with the Prince Consort, and suggested that he should 'stay as long as
it is necessary to exhaust the subject of the Hall'. (ref. 40) They took with them the design which Gilbert Scott
had provided, to Cole's satisfaction and at the third attempt, for the
Kensington Gore front, and a model of the interior which Fowke had designed for
the hall (Plate 48a, 48d). (ref. 41) The visit lasted two days. The Prince of
Wales approved the scheme and promised, when it was further developed, to call
a meeting at Marlborough House to adopt it. (ref. 42)
Kelk was the likely builder of the hall, (ref. 43) on the acoustics of which Cole and Fowke had
consulted with the engineer (and Cole's old colleague of 1851) John Scott
Russell. (ref. 44) How, with Gilbert Scott's
contribution limited to the Kensington Gore front, the visible exterior of the
hall-block itself was to be handled is not clear. This block, with the
amphitheatre within it, extended east to west. The amphitheatre's intended
capacity had dwindled as the design was worked out, to 12,000 in September 1864
and then to 6,000 in December. (ref. 45) As
indicated by the interior model of January 1865 and the plan in a prospectus of
the same date (ref. 46) it still retained the
straight-sided form, with interior dimensions of 295 feet by 184 feet.
The model and the prospectus-plan do not, however,
correspond, and probably ideas were very fluid, for in the previous month,
December, Cole had already been drafting a prospectus that spoke of the
amphitheatre as similar in proportions to that of Aries. Presumably, therefore,
it was already becoming elliptical.
What followed saw the elimination of Gilbert Scott's
contribution to the ensemble. The circumstances of this are not very clear. One
purpose of the front block of chambers had been to increase the incentive to a
'capitalist' to undertake the enterprise. (ref. 47) Late in 1864, however, Cole thought he was having
such success with the sale of seats in the as yet non-existent hall—the
purchase of £1,000-worth by his friend the builder Charles Freake seems
particularly to have encouraged him (ref. 48) —that Grey wondered if the ancillary
building-speculation might be dispensed with. (ref. 49) By February 1865 Cole was hoping to sell a
£1,000 box in the hall to Napoleon III, (ref. 50) and was discussing the omission of the block of
chambers. (ref. 51) In that month he dropped
Gilbert Scott's (and Fowke's) name from his prospectuses. Kelk as the likely
contractor was for some reason strongly against building between the hall and
the road, (ref. 52) and this was perhaps
decisive. By March Cole, whose 'own personal Canvass' had raised £12,000
or £15,000, was confident that most of the necessary funds could be
raised by the sale of boxes. (ref. 53) Gilbert
Scott seems thereafter to have played little or no part in the deliberations.
By March 1866 Cole was dissuading Grey from any attempt to harmonize the hall
with so 'eclectic' a structure as the Albert Memorial: 'Let us strive only to
get the best possible work and not be afraid of trouble.' (ref. 54) In July 1866 Scott withdrew his designs in a letter
to Grey. The latter referred it to Cole who misled him into thinking that
Scott's only contribution had been the façade to Kensington Gore:
perhaps Cole himself had forgotten Scott's design for the hall rectangle. (ref. 55) It seems that by then the responsible
authorities felt that some factor definitely excluded Scott from participation,
even though Fowke's death (at the end of 1865) had confronted them with the
necessity of finding a successor. One of the Prince of Wales's officials,
Herbert Fisher, when newly associated with the hall project, was curious why
Scott's name was not mentioned in this context but was evidently satisfied when
told by Cole 'the history of Scott's connexion with the Hall which I had not
before heard'. (ref. 56) Lord Derby, who was by
no means hypnotized by Cole, was obviously also glad to be free of Scott's
design and had only to remind the Prince of Wales of it to reinforce his
argument that to give a stronger hand to the architectural profession in
shaping the hall might lead to greater cost. In his mind, Scott's 'expensive
turn and love of elaborate work' was a disqualification. (ref. 57) So perhaps it was only a fear that Scott might run
wild in this respect that finally excluded him.
Spring 1865 had evidently seen the elimination also of the
rectangle surrounding the hall. The concept was becoming more Roman. Cole's
prospectuses had already explained that the east end could be 'fitted up like a
Roman theatre' and in February 1865 were resorting to classical terms in
description of the hall (which was now being likened in its proportions to the
amphi-theatre at Nîmes, not Aries). (ref. 58)
In April and May 1865 Lord Derby's support was won for the
participation of the 1851 Commissioners, not only by the virtually free grant
of the site valued at £60,000 (which was eventually leased to the
corporation of the hall for 999 years at 1s. per
annum (ref. 59) ) but by a monetary
contribution. This was in effect a vote of confidence in Cole's scheme for a
large, popular hall for miscellaneous purposes financed largely by
seat-holders. An alternative, advocated chiefly by one of the Commissioners,
Robert Lowe, was for a smaller hall, intended principally for use by the
appropriate 'learned' societies: any musical activities it housed would not
have been intended for a popular audience. It would have been, in Lowe's words,
'a Sheldonian Theatre', whereas he feared that the great hall would become 'a
Cremorne'. (ref. 60) It would in some respects
have been nearer the Prince Consort's ideas and probably a more appropriate
object of help by the Commissioners. Lowe, who was partly motivated in all this
by an 'intense distrust' of Cole, (ref. 61)
suggested, therefore, that it might be built and financed wholly by the
Commissioners. Cole replied that his hall attempted 'to hit a mean size
suitable for Conversazioni, Musical Meetings, Exhibitions, and even for
speaking, but it is not to be viewed as a Lecture Room'. A smaller hall 'would
be much less attractive and useful'. (ref. 62)
A practical objection to Lowe's scheme was that although it was more modest
than Cole's the Commissioners could not raise the £100,000 necessary
without selling part of the estate, whereas £50,000 would suffice for a
significant grant-in-aid of Cole's scheme. Further, the learned societies
showed no desire to transfer their activities to South Kensington, and to build
up its popularity with them the best means seemed to be the very musical
performances of general appeal that Lowe would have excluded. (ref. 63) The Queen told Lord Derby that she would regret any
great reduction in the size of the hall. (ref. 64)
Grey encouraged the Queen in this attitude, (ref. 65) and told Bowring (as the Commissioners' secretary)
that success would be 'commensurate with the grandeur and magnitude of what is
done'. The hall should 'exceed in size and grandeur any Hall now existing in
the World'. (ref. 66)
Lord Derby, who could probably have killed Cole's scheme,
was still cautious and realistic. He thought the connexion of the scheme with
Cole— 'one of the most generally unpopular men I know' —a very
mixed advantage. (ref. 67) He foresaw that
Cole's hall would be 'inconveniently large for the meetings of really
scientific societies' and might degenerate into 'a mere place of public
amusements, of which monster concerts would be the least objectionable'. (ref. 68) He feared a 'fiasco' if the hall lacked
users. (ref. 69) But he nevertheless came down
in favour of the larger project, and carried the Commissioners' Finance
Committee with him. (ref. 70) In May 1865 Grey
could tell the Queen that Derby was 'heartily enlisted in the Cause'. (ref. 71) Hopes that the Royal Academy, ejected from its home
in Trafalgar Square, would come to South Kensington were encouraging the
ambition that part of the hall might be occupied as a picture or sculpture
gallery (ref. 72) (perhaps for the Chantrey
bequest (ref. 73) ). But Derby's faith was
mainly in the musical societies, eked out with exhibitions and flower shows,
very much in Cole's vein, (ref. 74) and it
would seem that having expressed his doubts he allowed himself to be overborne
by Cole's success in obtaining royal support, and by the pressure of a very
general but strong argument. This was that the Commissioners had a clear duty
to do something with their estate, and that the only 'something' likely to be
realized was the one which, for better or worse, had Cole's drive behind
it. (ref. 75) Derby's caution was therefore
limited to making the Commissioners' grant of £50,000 conditional. They
would contribute a quarter of the building cost, if the public supported the
enterprise sufficiently to subscribe the remainder, up to a maximum total cost
of £200,000. (ref. 76) The contribution
took the form of the purchase of five hundred sittings. As it happened, the
condition of public subscription was not truly fulfilled, but by the time that
stage was reached the project was sufficiently advanced to be carried forward
all the same.
The Prince of Wales's support had been obtained, but his
treasurer, Sir William Knollys, was profoundly sceptical of 'one of the most
theoretical undertakings possible'. He told Grey in March 1865 that it was 'a
visionary scheme, and as to being remunerative to the subscribers it would be
absurd to think it'. He suspected that the Prince was also more doubtful than
supporters of the scheme let appear. (ref. 77)
But Knollys seems to have been replaced in the deliberations by a more
acquiescent, if still critical, figure in Herbert Fisher, and in July the
Prince presided at a meeting at Marlborough House to undertake formally the
erection of 'a great Central Hall'. It was numerously attended, and Cole, Grey
and Bowring were hopeful that the presence of the heads of various societies
would be helpful to the hall's prospects. (ref. 78) A Provisional Committee of twelve was formed under
the Prince's presidency. Other members included his brother the Duke of
Edinburgh, Lord Derby, Lord Granville, Grey, Lowe, Bowring and Cole. (ref. 79) A secretary was appointed, Colonel Henry
Scott, R.E., who had been seconded in the previous year to help Cole in the
management of the Royal Horticultural Society's affairs. (ref. 80) He was, like Fowke, a very inventive and resourceful
man, a surveyor and chemist as well as engineer. For the time being, however,
his duties were administrative. A prospectus issued after the meeting promised
'exhibitions and musical performances on a grand scale' and claimed that a
sitting in the hall was 'a property from the use of which constant enjoyment
and instruction may be derived, and which, in a pecuniary point of view, will
prove a remunerative investment'. (ref. 81)
With the abandonment of Gilbert Scott's masking block in
February—March 1865 Fowke embarked on a revision of his design. Cole's
diary contains jottings about Fowke's effort to provide an elevation for the
hall divested of the surrounding rectangle. 'Fowke wanting to avoid the design
of Coloseum for the Hall and proposed some heavy structure!' (25 February).
'Discussed form of Albert Hall with Fowke—who proposed a Venetian
treatment' (27 February). On 1 March Fowke was suggesting 'two new systems for
outside of the Hall—a Coloseum treatment and Bramante'. As Henry Scott
later told the Royal Institute of British Architects, Fowke's elevational
designs did not match the interior model. (ref. 82) Scott did not, however, make it clear that this was
because the plan had already developed far towards the final elliptical
form. (ref. 83) Fowke had evidently also turned
the hall to the present north-south axis. (ref. 84) Some idea of his elevational treatment can no doubt
be obtained from photographs of a model that is no longer known to exist (Plate
49a). (ref. 85) This is
difficult to date and was probably made after Fowke's death (see below), but in
general scheme and style seems to express more of Fowke's architectural office
than of his successor's.
In the summer of 1865 Fowke's health collapsed and in
December he died. Cole's first and perhaps only real thoughts were to keep the
designing within his Department, and he at once spoke to Henry Scott 'about
succeeding Fowke'. (ref. 86) Lord Derby
accepted that the publication of the plan and the invitations already issued to
purchase boxes made any radical change in the design impracticable, but he
thought that 'some eminent Architect' should be called in to give the
subscribers confidence. The architectural press naturally thought the same. (ref. 87) Derby's fears of the profession's
expensiveness seem, however, to have prevented his suggesting anyone in
particular. (ref. 88) From Marlborough House
came the suggestion that the presidents of the Royal Academy, the Institute of
British Architects and the Institution of Civil Engineers, and others such as
Tite, Layard, Beresford-Hope and Lord Elcho might be added to the Provisional
Committee, partly to represent 'the Artistic Element' generally, and partly
also, no doubt, to give an eye to the architecture. (ref. 89) Grey was for sticking to Fowke's design so far as it
went, though hopeful that an 'architect' might be found to complete it. (ref. 90)
Cole was reluctant to bring in a professional
architect, (ref. 91) but suggested either a
competition for this commission or the employment of a former member of the
Department, Gottfried Semper (by then Professor of Architecture at Zurich). (ref. 92) This was indeed a harking back to the
days of the Prince Consort, for whom Semper had prepared some designs for the
1855 project mentioned earlier. Grey took up the latter suggestion, reminded
the people at Marlborough House of Semper's theatre at Dresden, and urged this
'most scientific man' on Lord Derby. (ref. 93) (fn. a) Derby did not
like the idea of employing a foreigner, (ref. 95) and Grey, as Cole must have anticipated, did not like
competitions. (ref. 93) Meanwhile Scott, who
had been put in charge of the Department's drawing office in January, (ref. 96) and his assistants were getting on with the
development of the design. By April 1866 they were left in possession. It was,
after all, the most economical solution.
Cole had thought it practicable to dispense with an
architect because he considered Fowke's draughtsmen competent to modify and
complete his design, and especially because Fowke had discussed his intentions
fully with his 'chief draughtsman'. (ref. 97)
This was evidently John Liddell, who some years later in a letter to
The Building News claimed that he had prepared sketches,
drawings and a model during Fowke's lifetime, 'at first under his direction,
but mostly at my own residence' (ref. 98) (and
submitted a bill for 50 guineas to Fowke's widow (ref. 99) ).
Fowke's interior already presented, in fact, most of the
essential features of the final building —the arena, the amphitheatre,
the two or three tiers of boxes lining an inner containing wall, and, above and
outside them, a promenade or art gallery which extended all round between the
inner and outer walls and commanded views down through an arcade into the hall
itself (fig. 30, top left, on page 187).
James Fergusson urged a reconsideration of the basic form
of the hall. Regarding it principally as an auditory, he had wanted Fowke to
replace an amphitheatre by a Greek theatre, and in the summer of 1866 attempted
to induce Scott to adopt this or at least a circular form. Cole was strongly
against any change, and held Scott to the existing scheme. (ref. 100) He was told the amphi-theatrical form was
indispensable. (ref. 101)
The Department regarded Fowke's interior as largely
settled, but not the elevational treatment, and during 1866 Scott seems
(although the documentary evidence is scanty) to have largely recast the
exterior. At New Year 1866 he had taken a holiday viewing the greater churches
of East Anglia and the East Midlands, (ref. 102) and returned to consider the finished version of
Fowke's design in so far as the draughtsmen had been able to complete it. (ref. 103) Through February and March the intended
exterior effect probably retained much of Fowke's design, particularly the
high-level external buttresses spanning the inner and outer walls to support
the dome. (ref. 104) The vanished model
possibly dates from the first half of 1866, when 'tower-staircases' were under
discussion: (ref. 105) in the buttresses, the
ground-floor arcade and the stylistic handling it seems to be clearly
Fowkesian, and fits approximately the hall-section as left by Fowke. But it
shows the frieze, which, if Gilbert Redgrave and Scott are to be relied upon,
was introduced by the latter. (ref. 106)
Liddell's regular employment in the Department had
terminated about the time of Fowke's death (or a little before), (ref. 107) probably because of Liddell's
'difficult' personality. In March 1866, however, Scott had an 'elevational
drawing' by Liddell in his hands, and engaged him officially to make a
corresponding drawing of the interior of Fowke's design, for 40 guineas. (ref. 108) Liddell later said this was because of
his position 'as the repository of all his [Fowke's] latest ideas and
intentions'. (ref. 98) Undated
sketch-elevations by Liddell among his papers correspond approximately but not
entirely with the vanished model, and include the frieze (Plate
48c). (ref. 109)
In April Cole noted that Scott 'suggested new treatment by
making a case for the Hall independent of inside', (ref. 110) and on 1 May 'Designs for Hall settled with Scott,
to take the Pola amphitheatre and to ornament it'. (ref. 111) No other reference to this monument at Pula in
Istria seems to occur. The entry is perhaps less momentous than it sounds and
may refer only to a short-lived idea to turn the hall back to an east-west
alignment, and give it four entrances on the diagonal axes as at Pula. (ref. 112) Cole then went on a short visit to
France, Switzerland and northern Italy, staying a night at Nîmes and
visiting the amphitheatre. Gilbert Redgrave and the decorative artist Reuben
Townroe, both of whom were deeply involved with the hall design, were evidently
on a similar tour at the same time. (ref. 113)
Back in England in June Cole noted, 'Scott completed scheme of the last design
for the Hall'. (ref. 114) Perhaps it was at
this time that Fowkesian ideas about the exterior were in the main abandoned,
and nothing is known of any contribution by Liddell after his engagement as a
draughtsman in March.
A committee of advice to help Henry Scott was, however,
constituted in the summer. The idea seems to have been suggested to Cole by
William Tite in April. It consisted of the engineers John Hawkshaw and John
Fowler, Richard Redgrave, the architectural writer and designer James
Fergusson, and two architects— Tite himself and M. D. Wyatt. (ref. 115)
By August 1866 the Prince of Wales had seen, and liked,
Scott's drawings and a model. (ref. 116)
Further perspective drawings were delayed, Scott said, by the inexpertness of
draughtsmen, (ref. 117) and when Cole saw a
drawing of the exterior he commented 'outside bawdy and loose: abused it
well'. (ref. 118) Evidently incorporating some
unknown suggestions by the committee of advice, the designs had received the
Queen's approval by November. (ref. 119) The
working drawings were already in progress and by December were submitted to the
Commissioners' surveyor for costing. (ref. 120) This gave a figure of £235,000, (ref. 121) but by April 1867 it had been brought
down to £199,748, or just within the maximum cost specified by the
Commissioners. (ref. 122)
The financing of the hall had by then survived a crisis.
In May 1866 the failure of the bill-brokers, Overend, Gurney and Company, had
put some firms out of business (including that of Sir Morton Peto, a
Commissioner and a supporter of the hall project) and had caused an investors'
panic that threatened to stop the purchase of sittings in the hall at a figure
of about £110,000. (ref. 123) By that
time Kelk had withdrawn as a possible builder of the hall and his place had
been taken by his former associates in the construction of the 1862 Exhibition
building, Messrs. Lucas Brothers. (ref. 124)
They now offered, in July 1866, that if their tender were accepted they would
take £38,000-worth of their price in the form of sittings in the
hall. (ref. 125) This hardly amounted to the
demonstration of general public support as envisaged by Lord Derby, but was
thankfully accepted as a means of realizing the Commissioners' promise.
After a last-minute hitch, Lucas Brothers' tender was
accepted in April 1867, (ref. 126) and in the
same month a royal charter incorporated the subscribers to the 'Hall of Arts
and Sciences'. (ref. 127) (fn. b) The uses specified for the hall were national and
international congresses for science and art, musical and organ performances,
prize-givings, conversaziones of societies for the promotion of science and
art, agricultural and horticultural exhibitions, national and international
exhibitions of arts and industries, exhibitions of pictures and sculpture, and
generally any purpose connected with science and art. On 10 April the
foundations were begun, (ref. 129) and on 20
May 1867 the Queen laid the foundation stone. She declared her wish that the
name should in future be 'The Royal Albert Hall of Arts and Sciences'.
Scott found time to construct a canvas-roofed amphitheatre
for the ceremony of about the size and shape of the intended building. His
administrative concerns were multifarious (the size of the invitation
envelopes, what dress to wear, how to write to the Archbishop of Canterbury): a
larger worry was where to put the earth excavated in sinking the arena 15 feet
below the Kensington Road. (ref. 130)
The exterior and interior of the hall as then proposed
were shown by engravings in The Illustrated London News
(Plate 49b, 49c). (ref. 131) (fn. c)
The interior view gives a good idea of the strange mixture of uses intended for
the hall.
Compared with Fowke's design the 'ellipse' was a little
wider. Principally, it seems, to avoid the difficulty of building to a true
elliptical form on such a scale the outline was 'a very close approximation to
an ellipse, and is formed of arcs of circles struck from four centres'. (ref. 133) Fowke's internal arrangements had also
been adjusted, between June and November 1866, to give the additional
accommodation required by the Royal Academy of Music, which for a time seemed
likely to extend its activities and remove from Mayfair to the hall. (ref. 134) This hopeful prospect was, until its
extinction in 1873, some compensation for the disappointment when the Royal
Academy of Arts finally decided in 1866 not to come to South Kensington. (ref. 135) The amenities included subsidiary
theatres over two of the porticoes (that over the western being used as such
until the inter-war period).
On the exterior the many innovations on Fowke's design
included the outside balcony and the great continuous frieze above it, as well
as external staircases or perrons that were later
abandoned. Fowke's ground-floor arcade was omitted. Internally an important
change had been the reduction in the height to which the tiers of boxes rose,
in order to reveal an expanse of vertical walling below the picture gallery.
Scott later commented that any loss of grandeur was compensated for by the
greater appearance of solidity given by the visible wall. (ref. 136) Overhead the ceiling and lighting
arrangements were still to be much modified.
Building proceeded for four years during which
considerable changes were made. A strong motive behind all of them must have
been anxiety not to exceed the intended cost. The hall had many enemies. The
vagueness of its purpose, the admixture of a profit-motive in its promotion,
the association of this element with the royal family and with the educational
and commemorative ideals of its sponsors, the unpopularity of Cole himself, and
jealousy of the expanding empire of his Department all aroused hostility. The
challenge to the architectural profession implied by the Department's methods,
and (no doubt) the prospective threat posed by the hall to vested theatrical
interests invited criticism. Some was very vigorous. (fn. d) ; (ref. 137)
The enmity was sharpened by the promoters' cultivation of the aristocracy. In
June 1867 Scott was anticipating that the boxes between those of the Queen and
the Princes, and the staircase approaching them, might be reserved for
noblemen. (ref. 138) Prophecies that the cost
would greatly exceed Scott's estimates were published, (ref. 139) and it was important to the authorities that they
should be falsified.
On the exterior the changes were towards greater
simplicity. The closely wrought modelling of the 1867 elevation was replaced by
a plainer and larger-scaled treatment. Some alterations inside and out were
still being made or discussed in mid and late 1870. One was an adjustment to
the north portico, probably occasioned by the success of the hall's enemies in
thwarting a Government scheme to straighten the Kensington Road, that would
have extended the hall's curtilage (see pages 171–3). The hall thus
remained, and remains, askew to the road. (ref. 140) Its convexity makes this less important than it
seemed in the days of the rectangular 'hall of sculpture'.
Inside the hall an important change was the introduction
of a bank of 'balcony' seats above the upper tier of boxes. The development
subsequent to the commencement of building which doubtless occupied Scott most
closely, however, was in the form of the roof (Plate 51b, 51c; fig. 29). In place of
Fowke's, supported by buttresses and ceiled with a flat centre, Scott
substituted a wholly curvilinear roof of iron and glass, and employed, in his
own words, a 'wrought iron wall plate of girder shape resting with its web on
the wall and supporting the ends of the roof principals'. (ref. 141) In this he was helped by the two
engineers on the committee of advice, Fowler and Hawkshaw. The latter's newly
building roof at Cannon Street Station encouraged Scott in his use of trussed
girders for the principals. (ref. 142) By
their recommendation Scott had the assistance of two other civil engineers, J.
W. Grover (formerly an officer of the Science and Art Department) and R. M.
Ordish, who made the drawings and calculations (ref. 143) (and who had recently designed the details of a
rather similar feat of engineering, the roof of St. Pancras Station (ref. 144) ). The 'gigantic nature and novelty' of
the problem caused some concern. (ref. 145) As
The Builder said in 1869, it was 'no child's play'. (ref. 146) The construction was given to the
Fairbairn Engineering Company of Ardwick, Manchester, where the roof was
assembled by way of trial: (ref. 147) Scott
said that Sir William Fairbairn modified some of the details. (ref. 148)
Figure 29:
Royal Albert Hall, section in 1932
Figure 30:
Royal Albert Hall, plans in 1915 and (top
left) part-section and diagram published by Henry Scott in
1872
By May 1869 two main ribs were in place. (ref. 149) The ironwork was supported on a tower of
scaffolding, that itself excited admiration; and when in May 1870 this was
removed the stability of the roof was hailed by Scott's supporters as 'a great
Engineering triumph'. Cole told Lord Granville that the deflection was hardly
more than a quarter-inch, and the good news was relayed to the Prince of Wales
and the Prime Minister, Gladstone. Scott, according to Cole, was 'as modest
about it as a Maiden, giving every one credit but himself'. (ref. 150) No doubt he had been basically confident of the
outcome, and is said to have written to a correspondent: 'I have no more real
anxiety about the roof than your cook has when she places the cover over your
leg of mutton. The weight is equally distributed, and there is no thrust'. (ref. 151) The slenderness of the members within
the roof-structure still impresses anyone who sees them with the nicely
calculated and economical engineering of the design.
It was not, however, a pure 'engineer's' roof. Scott said
that from that point of view he would have sprung the ribs perpendicularly from
the wall plate. In fact, they were set askew, as the alternative 'would have
given an ugly shuttle-shaped figure in the centre of the ceiling instead of the
present ellipse'. (ref. 152) The ceiling
treatment was redesigned during the building of the hall (again, conjecturally,
for economical reasons), to eliminate most of the plasterwork in favour of more
extensive glass, stencilled in black and ochre by Reuben Townroe. (ref. 153)
This last decoration was, however, obscured by a great
calico 'velarium' suspended from the ceiling, also stencilled by Townroe. (ref. 154) This conspicuous and classical feature
was nevertheless intended at least as early as 1869 and was not, as some
critics said, a last-minute improvisation to improve the acoustics. Scott
mentions Tite and J. W. Wild as having recommended this feature to him. (ref. 155) Cole thought it 'most graceful', and in
fact it seems to have realized an abandoned idea for shading the glass roof of
the North Court in Cole's museum (Plates 9d,
49d). (ref. 156) At
the hall also its object was as much to reduce glare as to aid hearing. The
subsequent stiffening and elaboration had, however, an acoustic purpose. (ref. 157)
The notorious acoustic problems that have beset the hall
through most of its history were probably rooted in the multifarious conception
of its functions held by Cole, in which visibility for many different purposes
was as much a desideratum as audibility. Fergusson and H. H. Statham were two
contemporary critics who thought Cole's adherence to the amphitheatre basically
misguided. (ref. 158) Cole, Fowke and Scott
were, however, certainly not neglectful of the problem. (ref. 159) Cole's diary records visits to theatres with Scott,
when they noticed the acoustics. The building of the lecture theatre at the
South Kensington Museum itself ensured Cole's involvement in acoustical
experiments in 1869, and Scott's account of the hall given to the Royal
Institute of British Architects testifies to his own preoccupation with the
question. He received a diversity of advice on the degree of resonance to aim
at, and decided, he says, on ample, but not excessive, resonance, that might be
reduced by draperies. To achieve this he lined much of the hall with wooden
battens three quarters of an inch from the wall. (ref. 160) During the construction of the hall Cole thought the
effect would be splendid. The hall was 'as sonorous as the board of a Cremona!
You can hear the most delicate harmonies on a fiddle in the most distant part
from the player and it will be one of the wonders of the age.' And again, 'It
is as sonorous as a great Double Bass.' (ref. 161) While the interior scaffolding was in place most
people agreed with him, and noted the 'bell-like clearness' as the builders
sang at their work. (ref. 162) But in February
1871, with the scaffolding removed, an ominous entry appeared in Cole's diary:
'found Echo in Balcony'. Again a week later he noted, 'Echoes in Hall very
curious'. (ref. 163) The echo made itself
unfortunately obvious during the Prince of Wales's reading of his address at
the opening ceremony. (ref. 164)
The Builder promptly announced that with his velarium
Scott had 'bound the recalcitrant echo in a transparent web', (ref. 165) and for some purposes the acoustics of the hall
remained excellent. But the long history of deceived hopes that the echo had
died continued until recently, when the introduction of suspended glass-fibre
'diffusers' in 1968–9 would appear to have ended the trouble. (fn. e)
In the construction of the solid fabric by Lucas Brothers,
however, the hall proved very satisfactory. (Lucas's clerks of works were
William Hemsley and Sankey. (ref. 168) ) At
least some of the wrought-iron girders were, like other iron used at South
Kensington, from Belgium. (ref. 169) The
concrete floors, supplied by Fox and Barrett, were of fireproof
construction. (ref. 170) The main wall was 3
feet 2 inches thick, of picked Cowley stocks laid in Portland cement, faced
with red bricks supplied by William Cawte of Fareham, pointed with dark grey or
black mortar. (ref. 171) Scott described the
facing bricks with relish: 'they are very heavy and hard, having, if I may use
the expression, a metallic looking and slightly conchoidal fracture, are little
absorbent, and are for beauty of tint unsurpassed by any bricks in the
kingdom'. (ref. 172)
The excellent terra-cotta was supplied (with delays that
Scott accepted as endemic to the trade) from Gibbs and Canning's Glascote Works
at Tamworth, where the circumference of the hall was set out, evidently full
size, as a 'brick ring'. (ref. 173)
The Building News said in 1869 that the terracotta was
'manufactured at Tamworth expressly for the purpose by men employed by Colonel
Scott'. (ref. 149) No attempt was made to
smooth any superficial roughness, which was thought acceptable, indeed
picturesque, in a building that depended 'more for its effect on the sweep of
its lines than on exquisite finish'. Waterhouse, for one, applauded this
treatment of the material, which he thought helped to preserve its surface. (ref. 174)
Apart from the architectural detailing a very striking use
of terra-cotta was in the mosaic frieze which encircles the building below the
main cornice (Plate 53a). According to Scott in 1872
Cole suggested the frieze to him. (ref. 172)
Cole himself, however, noted during the early months of Scott's responsibility
for the hall, in June 1866, 'Scott having a new design of Hall to accommodate
the Frieze—against which I protested'. (ref. 175) In 1867 the intention was that the frieze should be
'sculptured'. (ref. 176) This was, however,
abandoned for want of time, money and competent modellers to accomplish so
large a task. (ref. 177) In 1867 the frieze
was also intended to be relatively smaller than as it was built. (ref. 178)
At that stage the decorative artists of the Department,
Reuben Townroe and James Gamble, seem to have been chiefly concerned with the
work. The figures drawn on the frieze in the model of a segment of the 1867
exterior look likely to be Townroe's. He and Gamble were named as responsible
for the 'modelling' of the frieze in a newspaper in 1869 (ref. 179) (when, however, the execution in relief had almost
certainly already been abandoned), and Scott named them in 1872 as having been
advocates of the smaller size of frieze—evidently, to increase the
apparent scale of the hall. (ref. 172) By the
beginning of 1868 a flat pictorial design had probably been adopted, as the
painters Maclise, Leighton and (Albert?) Moore were being considered to execute
it. (ref. 180) The frieze was carried out in
terra-cotta tesserae, with buff figures outlined in black on a chocolate
ground, executed by Minton, Hollins and Company, who employed the ladies of the
South Kensington Museum's mosaic class to make the 800 slabs of which it is
composed. (ref. 181) In material, type and
manufacture it thus followed closely the panels on the quadrangle of the
museum. Those were designed by Townroe (as were the long friezes intended to
adorn Scott's completion of the museum in 1870). In the light of this, and
Townroe's probable authorship of the frieze sketched on Scott's model of 1867,
it is not intrinsically surprising to find that some forty years later Townroe
was claiming in conversation about the frieze with D. S. MacColl that he had
'set it out, after Beccafumi', the Sienese mosaicist. (ref. 182) (At the same time he made the disparaging remark
about Scott quoted on page 93.) MacColl published the claim as fact. (ref. 183)
Nevertheless it is difficult to see that Townroe
contributed actively to the frieze as executed. Indeed there is clear evidence
that other artists made the designs. Initially these were a triumvirate
consisting of H. Stacy Marks, A.R.A., F. R. Pickersgill, R.A., and W. F.
Yeames, A.R.A., with whom Scott settled the essentials of the design: all had
worked at the South Kensington Museum. They were later joined by four other
artists, E. Armitage, A.R.A., H. H. Armstead, J. C. Horsley, R.A., and E. J.
Poynter, R.A., and one or more sections of the frieze (sixteen in all) were
entrusted to each artist. They made cartoons a foot high (some now preserved in
the hall): these were photographed by Sergeant Spackman, R.E., and projected,
in 'magic-lantern' style, at the full dimension of 6 feet 6 inches high on to
paper, where the outlines were traced. Spackman ('himself an artist', as Scott
said) was chiefly responsible for choosing the thickness of the black
outline. (ref. 184) The effect was tested at
full size and at the correct elevation in the South Kensington Museum. (ref. 185) It was, however, found difficult to hit
on the right scale. Scott eventually increased the size from that intended in
1867. Cole, perhaps in harmony with most tastes, would have liked it even
larger. (ref. 172)
Reading anti-clockwise from the north the subjects and
their designers are: Various Countries of the World bringing in their Offerings
to the Exhibition of 1851 (Poynter); Music; Sculpture; Painting (all by
Pickersgill); Princes, Art Patrons and Artists (Armitage); Workers in Stone;
Workers in Wood and Brick; Architecture (all by Yeames); The Infancy of the
Arts and Sciences (Pickersgill); Agriculture; Horticulture and Land Surveying;
Astronomy and Navigation (all by Marks); A Group of Philosophers, Sages and
Students (Armitage); Engineering (Horsley); The Mechanical Powers (Armstead);
and Pottery and Glassmaking (Pickersgill).
In the official 'History' Gilbert Redgrave was frank about
the varying success of the artists. He praised the merits of Poynter's design,
over the north portico, but noted that it was less suited to execution in
mosaic seen from a distance than Pickersgill's on either side of it. In the
latter's representation of Sculpture, showing 'some monks at work at a recessed
wall-tomb, while one of them tries the effect of natural foliage in the
spandrils as a suggestion for the decoration', there is perhaps as much of
'South Kensington' as of the Middle Ages. (ref. 186)
The cost of the frieze was £4,426, for 5,200 square
feet. Scott acknowledged the modesty of the fees accepted by the seven artists,
who were paid £782 in all. (ref. 187)
Above the frieze runs an inscription which reads:
This Hall Was Erected For The Advancement Of The Arts And
Sciences And Works Of Industry Of All Nations In Fulfilment Of The Intention Of
Albert Prince Consort. The Site Was Purchased With The Proceeds Of The Great
Exhibition Of The Year MDCCCLI. The First Stone Of The Hall Was Laid By Her
Majesty Queen Victoria On The Twentieth Day Of May MDCCCLXVII And It Was Opened
By Her Majesty The Twenty Ninth Of March In The Year MDCCCLXXI. Thine O Lord Is
The Greatness And The Power And The Glory And The Victory And The Majesty For
All That Is In The Heaven And In The Earth Is Thine. The Wise And Their Works
Are In The Hand Of God. Glory Be To God On High And On Earth Peace
Fortunately, the hall was put in hand just before a rise
in building costs, and with the aid also of thrifty management it was possible
to announce at the opening that the hall had been built for about the estimated
sum of £200,000. (ref. 188) Or, if it
did exceed that figure, it was not by an extravagant amount: the total cost was
probably some £214,000. (ref. 189) (fn. f)
Apart from its economical execution, the hall's manner of
construction constituted an intangible asset. Its subsequent history was
bedevilled by financial difficulties attributable to the methods of its
Victorian creators. But materially the Corporation came into possession of a
very sound structure, and the maintenance of this basic fabric has not in
itself made great calls on the available resources.
In 1865 Cole had told Gladstone that the hall would be
built without recourse to public funds. (ref. 191) At the opening the Prince of Wales was able to state
that this was so. Once the funds collected for the Prince Consort's
commemoration had been absorbed elsewhere, an appeal for public money seems
never to have been envisaged. (fn. g)
The cost of the building had, however, used up all the
available funds. When the Queen had been shown over the nearly finished hall
she had noted 'it certainly is a splendid building and I hope and trust may
pay'. (ref. 194) But by the time the hall had
been begun its friends and enemies were already drawing attention to the
difficulty that would be found in inducing impresarios to take the hall when
the best seats were already sold in virtual perpetuity. (ref. 195) In 1877 the Commissioners' secretary said that the
sales had been at too low a price, which should have been £150 instead of
£100 per seat. (ref. 196) There was no
endowment fund, and with the running charges estimated by a hostile but
accurate critic at £5,000 per annum (ref. 197) the hall was launched on a virtually impossible task
of at once maintaining itself and serving science and art. In this respect the
substantial 'popular' success of the South Kensington Museum must be thought to
have profoundly distorted the judgment of the hall's potentialities by Cole and
his friends.
The hall was opened on 29 March 1871 (Plate
49d). The Queen found it an emotional occasion, though
no more so than Cole. (fn. h) ; He had few
or no doubts: the hall was 'the finest building of its kind in Modern
Europe'. (ref. 199) The nearest he ever came,
in fact, to acknowledging that it was ill-suited to its sterner purposes seems
to be a diary entry in 1879 when he attended a lecture-demonstration of
electric lighting: 'Fairly good— but Hall too large'. (ref. 200)
As completed it held, by Scott's reckoning, 7,165 persons
exclusive of 1,200 singers and instrumentalists in the 'orchestra': if
necessary, the total capacity could be raised to 10,000. Rapid emptying of the
hall was secured by numerous separate exits for the staircases, which replaced
the originally intended arrangement of staircases leading into an encircling
corridor. One hydraulic lift was provided. Scott gave the audience in the
stalls swivel-chairs to turn towards the performer (ref. 201) and his success in ensuring that 'every body can
sit, and see, and hear with perfect ease and comfort' was applauded by
Waterhouse. (The heating engineer, W. W. Phipson, however, contracted to give a
mean winter temperature of only 55°–58°. (ref. 202) ) The picture gallery (Plate 54b), whatever its defects per se, was
at least expected to be a delightful adjunct to a concert. 'The opportunity for
a leisurely promenade, brilliantly illuminated, adorned with chosen works of
art, and within hearing of fine orchestral music, is such as is nowhere else
afforded.... It is likely to be, in such times, crowded with notorieties. . .
.' (ref. 165)
The brilliancy of the artificial lighting—something
of a 'South Kensington' attribute—was commented upon, and the good effect
that the hall's design derived from 'our modern means of illumination by
night'. It was said that the thousands of gas jets could be lit, by
electricity, in ten seconds. (ref. 203) (Fowke
had similarly contrived rapid mechanical gas-lighting in the South Kensington
Museum. (ref. 204) ) Gas was replaced
byelectricity from 1879 onwards. (ref. 205)
The most conspicuous feature of the interior was the
organ, made by Henry Willis for a contract price of £7,500. (ref. 206) An advisory committee was presided over
by the Earl of Wilton. (ref. 207) With its
length of 65 feet and height of 70 feet it was hailed as the largest in the
world. (ref. 208) The exposure of the pipes
and the relative absence of casing was, Cole says, suggested by him. (ref. 209) It was repaired and enlarged by
Harrison and Harrison of Durham between 1921 and 1933. (ref. 210)
The interior was, of course, found impressive (Plates
49d, 54). Fergusson thought the visual effect
unrivalled in Europe. (ref. 211)
The Illustrated London News commented on the newly opened
hall: 'the eye can follow curves which yet seem interminable, and thus the mind
becomes filled with an impression of endless space and sublimity'. (ref. 212) The effect of the repeated columns
between the boxes seems, however, to have been the subject of contention at a
late stage in the building of the hall, when Cole would appear to have
advocated the use of 'brackets', more than 'columns', against the combined
forces of Scott, Townroe and Wild. The decision, which probably went against
him, was evidently made or influenced by his acquaintance, Sir Coutts
Lindsay. (ref. 213) Disagreement arose again
between Cole and Scott—obscurely, but rather seriously—over the
colour-decoration of the interior. (ref. 214)
This was hardly begun at the time of opening, when Scott had no clear-cut
scheme prepared. In July 1873 a committee was appointed to supervise the
decorations. (ref. 215) The Duke of Edinburgh,
Lady Marian Alford, Lord Clarence Paget, Cole, Warren De La Rue, J. F. D.
Donnelly, Charles Freake and Scott were, or became, members. (ref. 216) Evidently the work was mainly in Townroe's hands. It
seems that Cole wanted subdued colouring in the furnishings, advocating some
kind of 'marquetry' treatment. He appears to have angered Scott by trying to
have box-fronts coloured brown. Scott, who had designed the tiers of boxes
partly with an eye to the display of ladies' dresses, seems to have preferred a
lighter colouring, (ref. 217) and Cole was
particularly disgusted when F. W. Moody, of his Department, perhaps with
Scott's consent, had 'put in light blue and vermilion columns! most vile'. (ref. 218) The committee-members' opinions
differed very widely, and their colour experiments continued until April 1875
when they decided on a treatment 'in reds', which Townroe executed in the
summer and autumn. (ref. 219)
As with other buildings on which the personnel of the
Science and Art Department was employed, and which spanned the transition from
Fowke to Scott, it is hardly possible to apportion responsibility for its
design exactly. The early months of 1874 saw, in fact, a controversy in the
correspondence columns of The Building News on the
identity of its 'architect'. Fowke's twenty-six-year-old son Frank had worked
as a youth in his father's drawing office in the last year of Fowke's life. He
resented the gradual transference to Scott of public credit for the
architecture of the hall, (ref. 220) and
detested Scott as (he thought) the silent pilferer of his father's designs. He
now uttered a 'protest' on behalf of his father's contribution. Gilbert
Redgrave spoke for Scott. John Liddell intervened to assert the importance of
Fowke's contribution to the design and of his own share in Fowke's work. (ref. 221) According to a diary-jotting by Frank
Fowke, Scott, although not participating in the published correspondence,
'proposed question as to who Architect of Royal Albert Hall [was] shd be
settled by Arbitrator'. (ref. 222)
Scott was not disposed overtly to claim much for his
individual part in the development of the design. He told the Royal Institute
of British Architects that he was not himself an 'architect', and professed to
have been reluctant to alter Fowke's design without the approval of others. As
has been seen, he had a committee to advise him, and was occupied with many
non-architectural duties as secretary to various other South Kensington
enterprises. Reuben Townroe spoke of him as a 'man with many irons in fire,
large family'. (ref. 223) Cole's diary
testifies to Scott's efforts to augment his income by 'outside activities' as
his family increased, although this was chiefly after the hall was finished,
when he tried, with Cole in partnership, to make a commercial success of
turning the sewage of great cities into cement, by a company of which Gilbert
Redgrave was for a time secretary. (fn. i) On
the other hand, the common quality in the buildings or designs produced under
his name is possibly witness to his architectural presence.
In judging how far Scott may have let himself benefit
unduly from the work of others the signs of modesty in his account of the hall,
and Cole's praise of that quality in him, should be set against his
understatement of Fowke's development of the amphitheatrical plan (see fig. 30,
top left) and the fact that in subsequent years (when the sewage company was
doing badly) Cole became very disenchanted with him. Rightly or wrongly, Cole
then spoke of Scott's 'selfishness' and want of sincerity, and on one occasion,
in 1880, called him an 'edition' of Judas Iscariot. (ref. 225)
Of the assistants, Gilbert Redgrave, who had been an
'architectural pupil' of Fowke's, (ref. 226)
probably had the longest continuous connexion with the hall. He himself said
that he was a 'draughtsman' (ref. 227) but
Scott acknowledged 'his general advice and assistance in every part of the
work': in particular he was indebted to him, 'for the whole of the work
connected with the preparation of the terra-cotta' (a material on which Gilbert
Redgrave wrote an article in 1868). (ref. 228)
Such of the plans and detail drawings in the possession of the Corporation of
the hall as are signed bear his or Scott's signature or initials. Redgrave says
that his fellow draughtsman was Thomas Verity, (ref. 227) and in 1891 the latter's obituarist called him
Scott's 'principal assistant' at the hall. (ref. 229) Scott says Verity was 'charged with the preparation
of the constructive working drawings'. (ref. 172) He is
mentioned once in Cole's diary in connexion with the box-fittings. (ref. 230) M. B. Adams's later statement that
Verity 'detailed the Albert Hall for General Scott', (ref. 231) probably refers chiefly to the interior, which seems
to bear marks of his French taste and where John Liddell (in seeking to
belittle Scott) claimed that he could point to signs of Verity's work. (ref. 98)
It seems, however, that an important contribution to the
decorative detailing, inside and out, was made by the two artists, Reuben
Townroe and James Gamble, who did so much of the decorative work at the South
Kensington Museum under Scott. This was stated at the time of the opening (ref. 232) and by Gilbert Redgrave. (ref. 227) Gamble is mentioned only once by Cole, in 1866, (ref. 233) but Scott says that Gamble 'was much
consulted throughout, and . . . was my boldest adviser in most cases of
doubt'. (ref. 172)
The more active responsibility was Townroe's, and it seems
that it is to him that the specific character of the external architectural
detailing is chiefly due (Plate 53b, 53c). Scott speaks of him as responsible 'for the actual
modelling or immediate superintendence of the whole of the modelling work' in
terra-cotta. He mentions Townroe's strong views about the treatment of that
material and about the size of the frieze. (ref. 172) (For
Townroe's claims in respect of the latter see above.) Additionally, Cole noted
in June 1866 a discussion with Scott of 'Townroe's new elevation' (ref. 234) which, by reason of its date, seems
likely to refer to the hall; and at a later period often mentioned Townroe's
decorative work on the interior c. 1870–75: in
December 1873, for example, Scott 'looked at Townroe's decoration of
Hall—thought it beautiful'. (ref. 235)
An undated drawing indicates that he was to provide a model for the frieze of
the 'main internal entablature'. (ref. 236) In
1912 a former assistant in the Department's architectural office remembered him
as responsible for all the architectural detailing and modelling, and for much
of the decoration, including that of the 'Entrance Halls, Corridors, and
Withdrawing Rooms'. (ref. 237)
The general reaction to the hall's appearance was, on the
whole, favourable. The use of brick and terra-cotta, which had been prescribed
to Scott as a necessary feature of the design, (ref. 101) was hailed, like that at the Huxley Building, as the
'dawn' of an era in London architecture. (ref. 238) The Building News liked the
porches—'one mass of enrichment, the general effect of which is rich and
pleasing', (ref. 149) and the beauty of their
terracotta modelling does compensate in a measure for some weakness of their
architectural form. Lady Eastlake was one who preferred the hall's details to
its general shape: 'the Hall looks ill at a distance, being low and formless in
outline; but, seen near, it . . . is both sumptuous and elegant. Much depends
on its keeping its agreeable colour.' (ref. 239) Sidney Colvin in The Pall Mall
Gazette said the hall was 'more of an engineer's than an architect's
building, and is far from faultless; but being at bottom a simple, genuine, and
effective piece of construction, on a big scale, does in effect give a sense of
vastness with dignity'. As such, he contrasted it favourably with the Albert
Memorial over the road. (ref. 240) Those who
most liked the memorial tended, in turn, to dislike the hall: they, and others,
wanted to maintain the visual separation between two such dissimilar buildings
that was afforded by the trees on the north side of Kensington Road. (ref. 241) The Daily
Telegraph, admiring buildings like Columbia Market, naturally deplored
the 'Hague-cum-Hanover-square' style of the exterior. (ref. 242) But abuse of 'the squat rotundity and Franconish
aspect of the music-hall' (ref. 243) only
shows how difficult it was genuinely to dislike so corpulent a building.
Whether approving or not, the public was interested in the
hall, and during 1872 some 44,000 people paid 6d. each to
see it. (ref. 244)
The subsequent financial troubles of the hall were,
however, increased by a certain difficulty of access. The uphill approach from
South Kensington Station (opened in 1868) was served by buses (of the
Metropolitan Railway) for only a year or two. (ref. 245) Until the late 1880's much of the pedestrian route
could at least be taken under cover, through the arcades and conservatory of
the Royal Horticultural Society. Schemes in the 1870's by the engineer T. W.
Rammell for a subterranean pneumatic railway from the station to the hall
failed for want of capital. (ref. 246) In
1883, when the continuance of the covered above-ground route was being
jeopardized by the impending dispossession of the Royal Horticultural Society,
the Metropolitan Railway was proposing the construction of a subway to the hall
large enough to take both pedestrians and tramcars. (ref. 247) It was, however, executed, by the Metropolitan
District Railway, only as far as its present termination, where an entrance to
the gardens was formerly situated. It was opened as a pedestrian subway, for
intermittent use, in 1885, with a toll of 1d., but was
not opened freely and continuously until 1908. (ref. 248) With the demolition of the arcades and conservatory
in 1889–91 the northern part of the walk was no longer under cover, and
has so remained. In 1890–1 there were abortive schemes for a subterranean
tramway to the hall en route to Paddington, but the only
step towards the extension of the subway was the construction of small parts of
it under the Royal School of Needlework and Prince Consort Road in the
1890's. (ref. 247)
Although when first built the hall did not, as it does
now, have a distinct southern entrance it was, functionally, more southward
'oriented' than it is today. Its juxtaposition on that side to the Royal
Horticultural Society's conservatory, with which Scott (as he boasted in 1867)
had 'schemed a pretty connexion', (ref. 249)
linked it to Scott's new exhibition galleries, and the Horticultural Society's
garden (plan b between pages 54–5). In the early years of the hall its
fortunes and those of the exhibitions and the garden moved (and in fact
declined) together. Soon, the hall was having to be put to unlikely uses. (fn. j)
In c. 1884 two roadways were made
extending south-west and south-east towards Queen's Gate and Exhibition Road
outside the garden's northern arcades. The former was made as a carriage road
in connexion with the building of Queen Alexandra's House (1883–7), and
at the same time the present chimneystack in the roadway, built to Scott's
design to serve flues from the hall, replaced another further south-west. The
south-east road was initially a footpath only. (ref. 253) Then in the late 1880's the 1851 Exhibition
Commissioners resumed possession of the garden, and the area south of the hall
was entirely reconstructed. The conservatory and arcades were demolished in
c. 1889–91 and the Memorial to the 1851 Exhibition
moved northward in c. 1891–3 to its present
position. (ref. 254) At about that time the
canopy was added round the outside of the hall: the Companion to
the British Almanac liked the design and said it 'gives scale' to the
building. (ref. 255) In c. 1897–8 the porch was made on the south side
(architect, Frank Verity), together with the road-way there: the 1851
Exhibition Commissioners contributed largely to the cost, and at the same
period paid for the terrace round the memorial to be made (ref. 256) (plan c between pages
54–5).
Later alterations have included the provision of more
exits required by the London County Council, particularly from the upper part
of the hall, in 1922 onwards, when some external doors were added in the
existing style (but a darker terra-cotta). (ref. 257) Significant changes in the internal appearance have,
however, chiefly arisen from improvements to the acoustics. A sound-reflecting
canopy over the orchestra was introduced in 1941 (when the Promenade concerts
were removed from Queen's Hall). (ref. 258) In
1949 the velarium was taken away and the glazed inner dome replaced by one of
aluminium (architect, H. R. Steele). (ref. 259) In 1968–9 acoustic 'diffusers' were suspended
from the roof (see page 189). (ref. 260) At
present (1974) the hall is being restored as funds become available to the
Centenary Appeal launched in 1970 for the purpose. Sir Hugh and Lady Casson
have been retained by the Corporation as consultants for the interior work,
which is being carried out in accordance with Sir Hugh and Lady Casson's
designs by the architects to the Corporation, Ronald Ward and Partners. The
work by Ronald Ward and Partners on the exterior has included the enclosure of
the north portico with steel and glass in 1971.