by Simon Heffer
Scott went on, at length, to describe Marochetti’s disdain for him and his opinions, and to create the distinct impression that the end of a road was being reached. ‘I would beg you,’ he advised Layard, ‘before you leave [on holiday] to take the matter seriously in hand, for it is utterly useless for me to say another word about it.’ Scott thought Layard might be able to persuade the Baron to be reasonable and stop maintaining that a sitting figure was ‘impossible’. ‘The only hope’, he said, ‘lies in your influence’. He made a number of technical suggestions for Layard to suggest to Marochetti in what was clearly going to be a sticky interview: lengthening here, shortening there, lifting up here and there. ‘Then, again,’ wrote Scott in exasperation, ‘I would reduce the chair, but the Baron says no.’ What had really aggrieved Scott was that the Baron had told him that all his life he had acceded to the suggestions of others, but could not do so to Scott because of ‘the radical error included in my suggestions’ on the question of perspective; and this, as Scott rather woundedly added, after ‘I was all gentleness and courtesy to him’. He signed off ‘leaving the matter to your better management’.
Layard communicated this to Grey, who rightly adduced at once that there was going to be ‘a great deal of trouble’.96 First, Marochetti had just written to Biddulph to ask for £1,000 on account, claiming that all the alterations that had to be made would incur him considerable extra expense – as if the necessity for those alterations was nothing to do with him. Grey worried that, if this demand were met, it would seriously reduce the money available for a new commission. Second, and more to the point, ‘the Baron was selected by HM herself to execute the statue – and the agreement with him was only a verbal one.’ Marochetti also ‘claimed that the Queen had approved of the models’. He feared all the Committee could do at that point was ‘to express their decided opinion’ that Marochetti had no claim to be paid for unsatisfactory work, but also that ‘the alternative he himself suggested to Mr Scott may yet have to be adopted, or another sculptor substituted.’ Grey passed the buck back to Layard, asking him to find a way of telling Marochetti that if his work could not be made satisfactory he would not be paid.
Layard replied that he hoped he could persuade Marochetti to ‘produce a work which will be worthy of his reputation’.97 The alternative was stark: ‘To take the commission away from him now would be a very serious step, and one most damaging to his fame as a sculptor.’ Layard agreed that the demand for £1,000 should not be met, until and unless the work was satisfactory. His papers include a number of drawings of seated classical statues, presumably to pass on to Marochetti. There was by now general pessimism at Court about whether Marochetti could do what was required. Bell wrote in October 1867 that he was ‘apprehensive’ of the prospect. He regarded Marochetti’s remarks about the model as ‘singularly wanting in artistic knowledge.’98 Marochetti had said he could not do any better; this did not bode well for the modifications he was making. However worried the Committee became, it was, in the end, a matter between the Sovereign and the Baron. Marochetti had had a long summer holiday, the latest example of his titanic caprice, and wrote to Grey from France on 22 October to say he would shortly be on his way back to resume battle with the seated figure.99
VI
Grey received a letter from Marochetti’s son, however, dated 31 December 1867, to say his father had died suddenly in Paris on the 29th.100 As Scott wrote to Layard on 2 January 1868, after months of waiting to see how much of Layard’s counsel the Baron had taken, ‘I have heard today with deep concern and surprise the startling intelligence of the death of Baron Marochetti! I saw him only on the 18th ult in the most perfect health, and he told me that some time during the present month he would have his new model sufficiently forward to be examined. In what a strange position has this so unexpected event placed us in reference to the statue of the Prince!’101 Struggling to contain himself within the bounds of taste, Scott added in a fine circumlocution: ‘I fear that, great as is my interest in the subject, there is some danger of presumption in expressing any opinion as to the course which may be followed. If, however, I dare offer a remark, I would say that we have only one man suited to the work and that that man is Foley.’
Joseph Foley was working on one of the mosaics, and Scott agreed that ‘the obvious objection is that he is backward with his group’: but Scott felt it could soon be finished. ‘Our great statue is of the utmost importance and of great difficulty. I have not seen what Baron Marochetti has been doing, but I would suggest that the new artist ought not to have his ideas cramped by being asked to work with any reference to these merely tentative models but that he should start again on his own thoughts.’ Layard knew Foley’s work well and had regularly corresponded with him. Also, he and Scott could both pull rank on Foley in a way that was impossible with the Baron: but Scott’s main point was that he was ‘a man whose artistic force and power is [sic] universally admitted, and whose work will command approval rather than tempt criticism however undeserved.’ Scott wrote in a similar vein to Grey, to pull him alongside in this difficult moment. Less tactful was Scott’s business partner Arthur Thompson, who wrote imploringly to Bell to do all he could to ‘save us’ from the Baron’s son, and who a few days later reported to the same man that Marochetti’s staff were working ‘day and night’ to get the revised model finished.102
Biddulph wrote to Layard on 18 January to say that Marochetti’s son had arrived in England and was preparing to make a cast of the model left by his father, something he had indicated he would do in the letter he had sent to Grey announcing his father’s death. ‘The serious question will arise as to its merits and if it is considered that they are sufficient to incline the Queen to adopt it, in what manner is the work to be completed?’103 Biddulph suggested appointing a group of ‘three gentlemen’ – ‘it is not settled who the three should be’ – whose ‘opinions would command respect’ to have a look at the cast and take a view. The Queen had thought these might be Lord Stanhope, Lord Taunton and a Mr Newton from the British Museum. He asked Layard to agree to this, which he did, though asked to be one of the three, supplanting Lord Taunton.
Layard interviewed Marochetti’s son in early March 1868; a few days before, on the 18th, the three wise men had been to Marochetti’s studio. They sent their report to the Queen who, thanking them for it, decided to go and see for herself, and to meet her three advisers there when she did. The report said unequivocally that they regarded the statue as ‘not satisfactory’, and added that they did not think ‘that any other artist of high reputation would willingly undertake the responsibility of making alterations in it.’104
After some rumination the Queen had Biddulph write to Layard on 22 April to say that ‘I think the Queen will ask you to sound Mr Foley about executing the Colossal Statue for Hyde Park’.105 Stanhope and Newton had both agreed to recommend Foley ‘in preference to any other sculptor’, and so the Baron’s masterpiece was not to be. The formal invitation for Foley came on 24 April, with Layard asked to deliver it and find out ‘the length of time required, and the amount which he would expect to be paid.’106 If Foley would not do the casting himself then he was to produce a model, seated, in the robes of the Garter ‘but Her Majesty does not wish to bind the sculptor to an over-accurate representation of those robes.’ Marochetti’s excessive ‘drapery’ was not to be repeated.
Foley wrote on 11 May with an estimate for the total cost of the work: £10,000 ‘including charges for gilding and completing it in every respect.’107 He said he could finish it in two years, but ‘I need scarcely tell you I should be compelled to postpone the completion of several works which I am at present commissioned to execute.’ The sum shocked Biddulph, who appears not to have noticed that he was being quoted all-in for a finished product. ‘I fear Mr Foley misunderstands what is wanted, which I consider to be a model to size of the statue. Surely he will execute that for a far lower sum than £10,000?’108 When Foley was asked to quote just for a model fr
om which the finished object could be cast, he replied that such a procedure would be ‘impracticable. My experience has impressed upon me the imperative necessity for the author of the model to have entire control over the bronze founders and all others engaged upon his work.’109 The cost would be reduced because the base gunmetal out of which the statue would be cast was already in the possession of the Committee, who would make it available to Foley.110 Francis Palgrave, the poet, critic and anthologist, wrote to Layard to express relief that the Marochetti model was being dispensed with, his statue of Peel being dismissed by Palgrave as ‘wretched’.111
Scott told Layard on 16 May that he had spoken to Foley at a dinner, and what Foley had told him confirmed the architect’s view that he would cast a statue with proper regard for perspective and ‘drapery’.112 Foley and Layard finally agreed terms on 30 May 1868, his fee being £10,000 less the value of the metal. On 5 August Layard wrote to Biddulph that ‘Mr Foley has sent his sketches for the statue of the Prince Consort. They are both very great improvements upon Baron Marochetti’s design, and one especially promises to be a very fine work.’113 Layard was shown alternative designs, ‘the Prince seated in his own chair, in the other upon a stool. I much prefer the latter – as the arms of a chair always produce an unpleasant and confined appearance. I have suggested a modification of the stool by changing it into a Gothic chair with a low back and without arms.’ Foley made new sketches and Layard and Scott went to his studio to see them on 6 November: both were delighted with what they saw, as Layard told Biddulph that day, with the Prince’s ‘dignity’ and ‘character’ coming through clearly.114 He urged Biddulph to get the Queen’s approval of the design so that a large model could be made without delay: a small model would be made for her to see within ten days, at the same time as inspecting some of the mosaics. It was fixed that the Queen would visit the site in Hyde Park on 27 November, with Layard summoned to the Palace afterwards to discuss Foley’s plans. The sculptor himself was summoned to Windsor in early December with the final sketch where the Queen and the Princess of Prussia ‘expressed their approval of it.’115
The troubles, though, were not yet over. Scott wrote to Layard in the spring of 1869 about the Albert Memorial – the sculptures around the base were ‘costing the sculptors more money than they reckoned’.116 Kelk wrote to Scott expressing his worries that, as well as the cost, the work was only half finished and was already four months late. The contractor employing the sculptors, Kelk, had written to Scott to express his commitment ‘that I can have but one object, and that is to do my duty to my employers, and get the work done, and save the whole thing from becoming a public scandal’.117 Scott replied that he knew one of the sculptors, Armstead, was ‘a man of an excitable nervous system . . . he is personally, I feel convinced, exerting himself to the utmost.’ Armstead had said something to Kelk about it taking three more years to finish, and that ‘contracts were made to be broken’; Scott hosed Kelk down, though the contractor considered Armstead to have insulted the authority vested in him by the Queen, and therefore the Queen herself.118 Scott gently rebuked Armstead for having ‘offended’ Kelk in this way.119 ‘The fact is you did enter into a contract as to time,’ he reminded the sculptor, ‘and that it proved to be one impossible to act up to; but this is rather a subject for expression of regret than of scornful impatience at any expression of the same feeling on the part of the other party to your contract; especially when that party acts as agent for the Queen herself.’ He consoled Armstead by pointing out that he was chivvying another sculptor, Philip, even more. This was true: Scott told the other sculptor that ‘the feeling of impatience I mentioned to you has taken a very strong form, and that every exertion on your part is needed to evince your anxiety to meet the views of employers. I shall be very much obliged to you if you will act upon this view.’120
Armstead replied that ‘anyone who has the slightest acquaintance with me must know that joking is my habit’.121 However, he added that ‘for the last four years my life has passed entirely in work. I rise in the morning to work on, or at, the Memorial, and I reach home of a night so tired that I have not been able the whole of that time to keep up the slightest social intercourse.’ Given that the whole of the east centre had been remodelled in the previous year – ‘34 feet of figures life size’ – he said that ‘when Mr Kelk called I confess I did not think him serious when he spoke of my not getting on.’ Armstead said he had ‘modelled and cast and chased in bronze’ the figure of Chemistry; that Rhetoric was ‘nearly ready for casting’ and that he had in the previous year ‘carved . . . some 14 heads at the Memorial.’ He added: ‘I believe that the amount of work mentioned above proves that as far as deeds are concerned I have not been wanting in effort to do all that flesh and blood could do to fulfil the contract on time, although from the first I said that six years would not be too long a time for the work.’
He repeated: ‘I am sorry that Mr Kelk should have been annoyed by my jest’ but that ‘it would be well if I could be left quietly at my work. I have gone through years of high pressure, and my nerves and head are not now strong. If I once wake at night I never sleep again.’ He concluded his epistle to Scott with a cautionary postscript further to prove his point. ‘As to my nerves, my foreman came to me the other day, whilst I was hard at work carving at the Memorial and said “Mr Kelk is here”. I was drilling the sight of an eye at the time – my hand shook, the drill slipped, scratched the marble, and I had to lower the whole of the face.’ Both Armstead and Philip had signed fixed-price contracts, and the work was taking them far longer than they had imagined: anyone who visits the memorial and sees the crowd of statues around the base, all made to a high specification, will see why. However, shortage of funds lowered both men’s morale, and when the Palace refused to supplement the agreed price, there was little they could do but grin and bear it.
The main effigy of Albert himself, being sculpted by Foley, was proceeding more smoothly. Layard visited Foley and saw his finished second model in early July 1869. ‘As far as I could judge, seeing the model thus isolated, there is every reason to hope that Mr F will justify the confidence wh the Queen has placed in him, and will produce a work wh will meet with the approval of HM and of the public. The second model is in many respects an improvement on the first sketch.’122
In July 1869 the Queen approved the wording: ‘Queen Victoria and her people / To the memory of Albert, Prince Consort / As a tribute of their gratitude / For a life devoted to the public good.’123 In November Layard, with the Queen’s greatest regret, left Britain to become Minister in Madrid, his work with the memorial over, but that enterprise at last on a steady course. Foley was slow in completing his statue, but there were no reservations about it. A model was put on the pedestal of the memorial in 1870 and stayed there until the spring of 1871. It was then cast in bronze from thirty-seven old guns. By the end of 1873 the head had been cast, and the arms and legs were being moulded. In the end, the finished effigy would have 1,500 parts that would need to be welded together: it was not known as the colossal statue for nothing.
The memorial was opened in August 1872, after the Queen had inspected it for the first time the previous month. She found it ‘really magnificent’.124 However, there were still three more years to wait before the colossal statue itself would grace it. The elaborate friezes that had taken so long to sculpt were, at least, well received by the general public. Scott was offered, and accepted, a knighthood: Kelk turned his down, since it was offered by Gladstone, and he expected something better – a baronetcy – from Disraeli, of whom he was a supporter. He was disappointed. Foley did not live to see his central work put in place, since he died of pleurisy in 1874: but by then it was possible for his assistant, Thomas Brock, to complete the job from his model. This was done by October 1875. In the finished statue, Albert is robed as a Knight of the Garter, and holds a catalogue of the Great Exhibition. The statue then had to be gilded, at which point the job was finished. The edifice was 1
76 feet high on completion, topped by a large golden cross. It had taken more than a decade and had cost £120,000.
The memorial, which Scott saw as his most prominent work, became the incarnation of high Victorian Gothic architecture, and the centrepiece of the cult of death. The subjects of the friezes and allegorical sculptures, and the determination to commemorate Albert for his commitment to art, science and the dissemination of knowledge, show the will of that age to be associated with improvement. Scott’s design, and indeed the Queen’s choice of him to execute it in that style, show the conviction that the Gothic was deemed to be the medium through which this commitment to high culture would be best expressed. In terms of the pursuit of perfection, it was, at that moment – the mid-1860s, when it was conceived and commissioned – the ideal combination of form and subject.
