The editors, craving your indulgence, have pleasure in presenting this report from the year 1834 on the troubled construction of Birmingham鈥檚 Town Hall. It is by the pen of the respectable Mr Stephen Cousins, ancestor of the current deputy editor.

These are marvellous days for construction. Not only do we today celebrate the completion of Birmingham鈥檚 long-awaited Town Hall 鈥 surely one of the most impressive structures of its type 鈥 but also the establishment of the venerable Society of Builders in London, which will no doubt represent our interests with due resolution for many years to come.

Nowhere has the reputation of our talented brethren been more widely acclaimed than in the building of Birmingham鈥檚 new civic glory. It is a joyous time for the people of the town who have long campaigned for its construction.

But alas not for the architect Mr Joseph Aloysius Hansom, nor his contractor, who were made bankrupt by the affair. And amidst the celebrations, we note the absence of two honest tradesmen, killed during the creation of the building鈥檚 grand roof.

Built with clay bricks dug from beneath the town鈥檚 very foundation and faced with the whitest of Anglesey marble, Birmingham Town Hall is a grand classical monument and a bold statement of civic pride, inspired by the antique glory of Italy. The building will seat over 3,000 people, and thus it is the largest forum for music in Britain today and a suitable arena for the debate of politics.

Birmingham is an industrial centre of great power, famous for its craftsmen who have gained a reputation for making small things most beautifully. As readers will be aware, the town鈥檚 political standing was recently elevated by the passing of the Great Reform Act which gave it two seats in the House of Commons, and the distinguished people had great need of a place for political debate. The building will also house the world-renowned Triennial Music Festival, which opened this October week.

The story of this great building begins in the late 1820s when Birmingham鈥檚 Streets Commissioners, recently afforded new responsibilities in the advancement of the town, approached the government with the idea for a structure that would reflect its sense of civic achievement. Royal Assent was duly granted, giving the Streets Commissioners the right to impose an increased rate of taxation on the people of Birmingham to raise the sum of 25,000 pounds for the purchase of land and the construction of a grand building.

In December 1830 designs were invited by advertisement in the Times newspaper. A total of 70 proposals were sent in from various parts of the Kingdom, among them entries from Mr John Soane, Mr John Nash, Mr Charles Barry, who is now rumoured to be preparing drawings for the new Palace of Westminster in London, and Mr Thomas Rickman. But it was the talented Mr Hansom, a man of a vastly enthusiastic disposition, who won the commission.

But the architect鈥檚 relative youth, he was 27, and inexperience was a concern for the Streets Commissioners, who resolved that he should go to London to seek the advice of the established architect Mr John Soane.

In January 1830 a site located in the town centre was purchased for the sum of 7,000 pounds and an advertisement was posted seeking the engagement of a contractor. Mr Hansom recommended Thomas & Kendall, with whom he had previously worked on projects in Liverpool and Anglesey, and the firm鈥檚 tender of 16,648 pounds was duly accepted.

Faulty offer

But the Streets Commissioners were wary of the sum, which was 6,000 pounds less than any rival offer and they thought it might be faulty, or that the builder might be a rogue, so they insisted that Mr Hansom stand surety to the project.

In his frustration that the project was taking too long to commence and aware that the job represented a terribly prestigious commission, Mr Hansom agreed. It was an appalling mistake by the young man, who had little experience in the routine of an architect.

Mr Hansom鈥檚 classical design is inspired by the temple of Castor & Pollux in the Roman Forum in Rome which had made a deep and lasting impression on his mind.

Since Italy was mercifully liberated from occupation by the French and Napoleon鈥檚 forces in 1815, British architects and their artist patrons have been returning to that land of wonders to undertake grand tours and record its buildings. And though Mr Hansom had not had the opportunity to visit Rome, we are reliably informed his designs are accurately reproduced details from recently published measured surveys.

It is certainly a welcome diversion from the ghastly Gothic style currently being purveyed by Mr Augustus Pugin and his ilk and is most definitely not, as some critics have alleged, an example of the scrag-end of classical architecture in Britain.

But alas, the building is not entirely true to Mr Hansom鈥檚 original plan. The Times advertisement had overestimated the size of the available plot by 10% which put upon the architect to amend his drawings, remove the pediment, columns and podium from the north end facade and butt the building up against housing to the north and to the west.

Construction began on April 27, 1832. The bricks were made of clay dug from ground close to the site and were fired in kilns inside the building, a circumstance which allowed construction to continue throughout the frosty winter months when lime mortar has difficulty in setting. What a testament to the ingenuity of our great profession!

The Anglesey marble facing is in truth a tough carboniferous limestone, which Mr Hansom used on the recent Beaumaris Gaol in Anglesey and which he chose because it 鈥榳ill become whiter with age and is imperishable by time鈥. Whether the latter proves true remains to be seen, but the stone was certainly difficult to mine and its toughness meant work proceeded tardily on site.

All the detailed carving, notably on the intricate fluted columns, was done by hand inside the Town Hall, though Mr Hansom had endeavoured to quicken progress by inventing an 鈥榠ngenious machine鈥, the particulars of which we were unable to uncover, to saw the stone into sections.

By January 1833 the roof trusses were ready to be hoisted into position. At 65 feet wide and weighing four tonnes each they are some of the largest in the country and it was a feat of engineering to raise each into position. Each truss was hoisted to the top of the wall plate using a lever beam on rollers attached to a block and tackle pulley system.

Six trusses had been set in position and four were remaining when, on January 26 last year, as the seventh truss was about to be placed on top of a wall, the hook from a pulley block carrying one end broke in two. The truss fell to the floor and in so doing tore the crane from the head of the opposite wall, causing an accident that proved fatal in its consequences.

Four men fell. John Heap, a 38-year-old carver landed on his head and was dead within two hours. A second man, 26-year-old William Badger also died. A third was thrown to the ground and fractured his ankle, making amputation the only option. What terrible tragedy! And a perplexing one at that, as the pulley block was designed to carry up to five times the weight it had to bear.

Although work continued with all possible dispatch, this calamity seems now a strange prophecy of how things would transpire.

The stone mined from Anglesey had to be shipped an arduous 80 miles by sea to Chester, then ferried 100 miles more by canal to Birmingham, a situation which, combined with the tardiness of carving the material, delayed the project considerably. After days and nights of incredible labour and fatigue, in spring 1834 Thomas & Kendall was forced to file for bankruptcy, followed shortly by Mr Hansom himself.

Terrible blow

It was a terrible final blow to the young architect who had put his very existence into the project and he was left deeply grieved. Indeed, it is a strange matter that by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin.

In May 1834 Mr Hansom was replaced by Mr John Foster and a new contractor, to finish the building for its opening on October 7, 1834.

The original sum of 17,000 pounds for the building work was at length to exceed 25,000 pounds and even that figure was insufficient and it is rumoured that workmen were forced to down their tools, leaving some stone capitals uncarved.

But witnessing the opening night of the Triennial Music Festival a more beautiful or impressive sight could not be imagined, and the roads to town were crowded as those to Epsom on the Derby day.

Inside, visitors were impressed by the ceiling with its intricate coving and coffering, while the majestic sounds from William Hill鈥檚 great organ elicited exclamations of delight and rapture among the crowd.

And Mr Hansom could do well to remember that the labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind. Indeed, those who have witnessed the building will not soon forget it, which is at least some consolation for the young Mr Hansom!

We are sure he will go on to greater things. c.m.

Editor鈥檚 notes

  • Mr Stephen Cousins would like to thank Mr Anthony Peers, architect and architectural historian, who kindly supplied much of the information on which this article is based. Mr Peers is engaged at Rodney Melville & Partners, the conservation practice that participated in the 拢34m restoration of Birmingham Town Hall completed in 2008. Mr Peers is writing a book on the history of this civic glory.
  • A debt is also owed to Mrs Mary Shelley, author of the novelistic entertainment 鈥楩rankenstein鈥, for creative inspiration and felicitous phrases.
  • After these opening scenes, Mr Joseph Aloysius Hansom enjoyed a dramatic career in several acts. Months after the completion of this project, he registered the design of a 鈥楶atent Safety Cab鈥, which would soon become popularised as the Hansom Cab. He also designed around 200 buildings, most of them in the Gothic Revival style. In 1843, he became the first editor of The Builder, published to this day as 黑洞社区.
  • The art editor of Construction Manager, Mme Doriane Laithier, would like to acknowledge her predecessors who carefully composed the pages of The Builder in 1851, whose labours she has most effectively utilised in this periodical.