AN "IDEAL" MUSEUM AND ITS GUIDE. 



By A PROVINCIAL CURATOR. 



On the principle that there are those who step in 

 where angels fear to tread, I am venturing to refer 

 to the very latest in the way of museums, namely the 

 new London Museum, and its Guide. 



Probably no museum ever came into being with 

 such a nourish of trumpets as the new museum at 

 Kensington Palace. The illustrated papers have 

 given picture after picture of the museum's contents, 

 or its curator, and have thus shown to an admiring 

 world photographs of this, that, and the other object, 

 scores of better examples of which are to be found 

 in the many other London Museums, and even in 

 provincial collections. 



But I do not wish to deprecate the sweet uses of 

 advertisement as adopted by the new museum. In 

 fact, all admire its methods. And no doubt even our 

 national collections would benefit if their recent 

 additions were duly reported, described, and figured 

 in the papers. But from illustrated interviews, 

 special articles, pictures of people holding pots, and 

 other items that have appeared in the daily and 

 weekly press, it is clear that the museum is on 

 extremely new and up-to-date lines. We are told 

 that there are no headaches in the new museum ! 

 No confusing labels. Everything is simply and pro- 

 perly arranged, so that he who wishes may read the 

 story of the city's growth and greatness from the 

 time when the pool of London was wallowed in by 

 men with oakum-covered arms and legs (such as 

 shown in the museum " Annexe ") to the time when 

 a similar individual, bereft of his oakum, but in a 

 boiled shirt, sits in a " Handsome " cab. And we 

 learn that as the visitor flits from case to case a 

 panoramic view of London's history is presented to 

 him. And thus for the first time, so 'tis said, a visit 

 to a museum is to be both pleasant and profitable. 

 The curator and his assistants (we learn from the 

 official "Guide"), are " luckily unhampered by the 

 entangling meshes of red tape " and have conse- 

 quently " achieved results which would have taken 

 ordinary officials, less fortunately circumstanced, 

 years to carry through." It is, perhaps, as well that 

 there is no red tape, or the " author " would certainly 

 not have been permitted to advertise his private 

 literary ventures on the cover. 



Being among the " ordinary " officials, and at all 

 times anxious that the long-suffering ratepayers, who 

 pay for my golf clubs and send me to conferences, 

 should get the greatest possible benefit from the 

 collections under my charge, I paid two visits to the 

 new Museum, in order to derive inspiration from the 

 work of its, presumably, "extraordinary" officials, 

 and I paid a shilling for its " Guide " ; but I only 

 did that once ! I was anxious to see this ideal 

 museum, with its perfect classification, and its lack 

 of red tape. I wanted to see (quoting from the 

 guide book) " the palpable and material object 



lessons, more likely to impress the mind with the 

 realities of the life of London in the olden times, 

 than reams of dry sociological theories, learned 

 historical disquisitions, and pompous moralising 

 tracts." (To grasp the full import of the last 

 sentence, it should be read three times!) 



There is another paragraph in the guide which 

 appeals to the provincial curator: — "Many private 

 individuals, moreover, have generously come forward 

 and presented their laboriously garnered stores 

 ("laboriously garnered stores"!) illustrative of 

 London's manufactures and arts, in order that these 

 cherished treasures of theirs may become the heritage 

 of their fellow Londoners — in being and yet to be I 

 Others have munificently provided the funds 

 requisite to enable the Trustees to acquire 

 collections, unequalled in their completeness, of 

 ancient costume, armour, weapons, pottery, glass, 

 porcelain, enamels and silver ! This " unequalled in 

 their completeness " is pure piffle. The "author" 

 (as he styles himself) of the Guide can never have 

 been in the British Museum, The Victoria and 

 Albert Museum, The Tower, The Wallace Collec- 

 tion, The Guildhall Museum, and many others not 

 very far away : or if he has, he must have been 

 " blind," in some way or other. 



On my first visit it was raining, and I had an 

 umbrella. This had to be left at the cloak-room, 

 which was in another building some distance away, 

 •and the ticket I got in exchange was not large 

 enough to keep the rain off while I walked back to 

 the museum, and back again for the umbrella when 

 I had seen it. I felt relieved that there were no 

 " entangling meshes of departmental red tape " here, 

 or I should probably have had to run round the park 

 in my shirt. 



On my second visit the weather was fair, so I was 

 not requested to walk across the garden to leave my 

 umbrella, but could carry it with me where I would ! 



As I entered the building I found two ways to the 

 stairs ; a wide one, open and free, and a narrow one, 

 barred by a piece of wood — I believe polished oak 

 — possibly to illustrate the kind of trees that once 

 grew in London. I naturally went through the 

 wide opening, and was going up the stairs when a 

 policeman seemed to drop from an aeroplane or 

 somewhere, hauled me back again, and made me 

 push my frail form against the bar of oak, which 

 proved to be a species of turnstile. I don't know 

 what it registered me as, but doubtless, judging from 

 the published numbers of visitors, a " large party." 



I obtained my first object lesson before I had 

 reached the top of the stairs. In order to inform 

 visitors to "keep to the right," the best way is to 

 hammer a nail into the middle of a large old oak 

 panel, and hang a placard up on it. But upstairs, 

 all my fondest hopes and anticipations fled. I found 



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