In 1833, by a special Act of Parliament, Soane left his house at 13 Lincoln’s
Inn Fields and its contents to the nation. This is not the place to explain
the subsequent history of his bequest, but the museum as it is constituted
today consists of the building where Soane lived and displayed his
collection (No 13) and the two houses that flank it (12 and 14). These two
ancillary buildings have been a godsend, enabling the director and trustees
to preserve Soane’s house and collections intact while at the same time
allowing the museum to expand.

For the first 100 years of its existence, the Soane was lucky enough to fall
out of critical favour. Dowdy, old-fashioned and unvisited though it was,
general indifference meant that it remained untouched, a time capsule
awaiting rediscovery. In the 20th century a series of remarkable directors,
including Sir John Summerson, Peter Thornton and Margaret Richardson,
brought it back to life while staying true to Soane’s wishes that it should
be kept as he had left it and opened to the public free of charge.

To this day only 70 visitors are allowed at a time, which often means a queue
outside. Labels and lighting are discreet; there is no information desk,
cloakroom or café. Far from discouraging visitors, the lack of amenities we
take for granted in other museums only adds to the Soane’s cult status. Last
year it attracted 110,000 visitors.

Recently I went to see the current director, Tim Knox, a 48-year-old
architectural historian who came to the Soane six years ago from the
National Trust and who, for my money, is the most interesting museum
director of his generation. Knox recently launched a public appeal to raise
the final £500,000 of the £7 million he needs to fund a restoration and
development project that will transform and enhance a now cherished
institution.

The first phase will see the interior of No 12 Lincoln’s Inn Fields
transformed by the addition of a shop, cloakroom, lift, conservation studio,
archive and exhibitions gallery, as well as offices for the staff. My first
question is obvious: why does the museum need all these?

Knox has clearly thought about that question, and he’s ready with his answer.
“This isn’t the usual museum makeover,” he says firmly, “it’s
micro-surgery.” And then he’s off and running. “The Soane still has only one
entrance – the front door. That means that anyone who visits will have the
physical experience of entering a private house. Rather than destroy that
experience by creating a cloakroom off the front hall, we’ve put the
cloakroom next door in No 12. Visitors will be required to leave their coats
and bags there, and then come back. A visit to the Soane starts from the
moment they step through the front door.” And if it’s raining?

“We’ll provide them with umbrellas. It’s worth it to keep the house exactly as
it was.” He points out that No 14 has already been adapted for use as the
Study Centre, Research Library and Education Department without impinging in
any way on the visitor’s experience next door.

When Knox first came to the museum, he told me, it took him a year to get a
feel for what needed to be done. “I knew I had to look at all three
buildings as a whole in order to preserve the integrity of the central
house. The great revelation came when I realised that by moving the offices
at the top of the main house to the building next door, we could put back
Sir John Soane’s private apartments to what they had been. After that, we
started looking for the original furniture – and though we’ll never be able
to retrieve items such as Sir John’s false teeth or Mrs Soane’s knitting
needles, we discovered that 90 per cent of the objects listed in the
inventories are still somewhere in the building.”

The rooms he wants to reinstate are the private family apartments that were
dismantled soon after Soane’s death. They include his bedroom and bathroom,
his wife’s morning room, and a small chamber he called the “oratory”, which
was a former dressing room he arranged as a shrine to his wife, who died
less than two years after they moved in.

Not only does Knox have most of the original furniture, but he knows where it
was in the house. That is because in the 1820s Soane employed architectural
students to paint watercolours showing all the interiors, and after his
death in 1837 inventories record the contents of each room.

When I ask him what will change about the Soane, his answer is “not much, at
least outwardly”. In the age of the McArtgallery, this man has the right
idea. All he wants to do, he says, is to open the Soane up, and to ensure it
survives for another 200 years.

Information: 0207 440 4241 or www.soane.org