Wigmore Hall: The Concert Hall That Changed Its Name

Why is it significant?

Stop under the iron and glass canopy over the pavement and, if the doors are open, peek into the hall itself: a long, narrow room of marble and alabaster, rows of seats, and above the small stage a domed apse painted with a glowing figure, the Soul of Music, surrounded by allegories of the arts.

Key Facts

PlaceWigmore Hall: The Concert Hall That Changed Its Name
Address36 Wigmore Street, London W1U 2BP, United Kingdom
Geo Coordinates51.51690, -0.14830
Part of WalkFrom 221B to Wimpole Street: Sherlock Holmes, Dickens and the Beatles in Marylebone, London
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Stop under the iron and glass canopy over the pavement and, if the doors are open, peek into the hall itself: a long, narrow room of marble and alabaster, rows of seats, and above the small stage a domed apse painted with a glowing figure, the Soul of Music, surrounded by allegories of the arts.

It opened in 1901 as Bechstein Hall, built by the German piano makers whose London showrooms stood next door. The idea was simple and clever: give the best pianists in Europe a perfect room, and the audience would leave wanting a Bechstein. The architect was Thomas Collcutt, and at the opening concerts the pianist Ferruccio Busoni and the violinist Eugène Ysaÿe performed.

Then came the First World War. With Britain at war with Germany, German-owned businesses were seized, and Bechstein's London property was confiscated as enemy assets. In 1916 the hall was sold at auction for a fraction of its value, and the buyer was the department store Debenhams, a neighbour on Wigmore Street. In 1917 the hall reopened under a new and thoroughly English name: Wigmore Hall.

The new name stuck, and so did the magic. The hall seats only around five hundred and fifty people, and its acoustics are so clear that musicians speak of it with something close to reverence. Almost every great name in chamber music and song has played here, and a debut at the Wigmore is still a rite of passage for young performers.

There is a lovely paradox in that painted dome: the figure of the Soul of Music gazes upward towards a radiant light, while the business that paid for it lost the building to war within fifteen years. The music outlived the company's name. Now carry on east along Wigmore Street until it opens into a large leafy square, Cavendish Square.

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