Nature is infinitely more wonderful than the highest art; and in the
commonest hedgeside leaf lies a mystery and beauty greater than that of
the greatest picture, the noblest statue--as infinitely greater as God's
work is infinitely greater than man's. But to those who have no leisure
to study nature in the green fields (and there are now-a-days too many
such, though the time may come when all will have that blessing), to such
I say, go to the British Museum, Bloomsbury Square; there at least, if
you cannot go to nature's wonders, some of nature's wonders are brought
to you.
The British Museum is my glory and joy; because it is one of the only
places which is free to English citizens as such--where the poor and the
rich may meet together, and before those works of God's Spirit, "who is
no respecter of persons," feel that "the Lord is the maker of them all."
In the British Museum and the National Gallery, the Englishman may say,
"Whatever my coat or my purse, I am an Englishman, and therefore I have a
right here. I can glory in these noble halls, as if they were my own
house."
English commerce, the joint enterprise and industry of the poor sailor as
well as the rich merchant, brought home these treasures from foreign
lands; and those glorious statues--though it was the wealth and taste of
English noblemen and gentlemen (who in that proved themselves truly noble
and gentle) who placed them here, yet it was the genius of English
artists--men at once above and below all ranks--men who have worked their
way up, not by money or birth, but by worth and genius, which taught the
noble and wealthy the value of those antiques, and which proclaimed their
beauty to the world. The British Museum is a truly equalising place, in
the deepest and most spiritual sense. And it gives the lie, too, to that
common slander, "that the English are not worthy of free admission to
valuable and curious collections, because they have such a trick of
seeing with their fingers; such a trick of scribbling their names, of
defiling and disfiguring works of art. On the Continent it may do, but
you cannot trust the English."
This has been, like many other untruths, so often repeated, that people
now take it for granted; but I believe that it is utterly groundless, and
I say so on the experience of the British Museum and the National
Gallery. In the only two cases, I believe, in which injury has been done
to anything in either place, the destroyers were neither working-men, nor
even poor reckless heathen street-boys, but persons who had received what
is too often miscalled "a liberal education." But _national property
will always be respected_, because all will be content, while they feel
that they have their rights, and all will be careful while they feel that
they have a share in the treasure.
Go to the British Museum in Easter week, and see there hundreds of
thousands, of every rank and age, wandering past sculptures and
paintings, which would be ruined by a blow--past jewels and curiosities,
any one of which would buy many a poor soul there a month's food and
lodging--only protected by a pane of glass, if by that; and then see not
a thing disfigured--much less stolen. Everywhere order, care, attention,
honest pride in their country's wealth and science; earnest reverence for
the mighty works of God, and of the God-inspired. I say, the people of
England prove themselves worthy of free admission to all works of art,
and it is therefore the duty of those who can to help them to that free
admission.
What a noble, and righteous, and truly brotherly plan it would be, if all
classes would join to form a free National Gallery of Art and Science,
which might combine the advantages of the present Polytechnic, Society of
Arts, and British Institution, gratis. {243} Manufacturers and men of
science might send thither specimens of their new inventions. The rich
might send, for a few months in the year--as they do now to the British
Institution--ancient and modern pictures, and not only pictures, but all
sorts of curious works of art and nature, which are now hidden in their
drawing-rooms and libraries. There might be free liberty to copy any
object, on the copyist's name and residence being registered. And surely
artists and men of science might be found, with enough of the spirit of
patriotism and love, to explain gratuitously to all comers, whatever
their rank or class, the wonders of the Museum. I really believe that if
once _the spirit of brotherhood_ got abroad among us; if men once saw
that here was a vast means of educating, and softening and uniting those
who have no leisure for study, and few means of enjoyment, except the gin-
shop and Cremorne Gardens; if they could but once feel that here was a
project, equally blessed for rich and poor, the money for it would be at
once forthcoming from many a rich man, who is longing to do good, if he
could only be shown the way; and from many a poor journeyman, who would
gladly contribute his mite to a truly national museum. All that is
wanted is the spirit of self-sacrifice, patriotism and brotherly
love--which God alone can give--which I believe He is giving more and
more in these very days.
I never felt this more strongly than one day, as I was looking in at the
windows of a splendid curiosity-shop in Oxford Street, at a case of
humming-birds. I was gloating over the beauty of those feathered jewels,
and then wondering what was the meaning, what was the use of it all? why
those exquisite little creatures should have been hidden for ages, in all
their splendours of ruby, and emerald, and gold in the South American
forests, breeding and fluttering and dying, that some dozen out of all
those millions might be brought over here to astonish the eyes of men.
And as I asked myself, why were all these boundless varieties, these
treasures of unseen beauty, created? my brain grew dizzy between pleasure
and thought; and, as always happens when one is most innocently
delighted, "I turned to share the joy," as Wordsworth says; and next to
me stood a huge, brawny coal-heaver, in his shovel hat, and white
stockings and high-lows, gazing at the humming-birds as earnestly as
myself. As I turned he turned, and I saw a bright manly face, with a
broad, soot-grimmed forehead, from under which a pair of keen flashing
eyes gleamed wondering, smiling sympathy into mine. In that moment we
felt ourselves friends. If we had been Frenchmen, we should, I suppose,
have rushed into each other's arms and "fraternised" upon the spot. As
we were a pair of dumb, awkward Englishmen, we only gazed a half-minute,
staring into each other's eyes, with a delightful feeling of
understanding each other, and then burst out both at once with, "Isn't
that beautiful?" "Well, that is!" And then both turned back again, to
stare at our humming-birds.
I never felt more thoroughly than at that minute (though, thank God, I
had often felt it before) that all men were _brothers_; that this was not
a mere political doctrine, but a blessed God-ordained fact; that the
party-walls of rank and fashion and money were but a paper prison of our
own making, which we might break through any moment by a single hearty
and kindly feeling; that the one spirit of God was given without respect
of persons; that the beautiful things were beautiful alike to the coal-
heaver and the parson; and that before the wondrous works of God and of
God's inspired genius, the rich and the poor might meet together, and
feel that whatever the coat or the creed may be, "A man's a man for a'
that," and one Lord the maker of them all.
For, believe me, my friends, rich and poor--and I beseech you to think
deeply over this great truth--that men will never be joined in true
brotherhood by mere plans to give them a self-interest in common, as the
Socialists have tried to do. No: to feel _for_ each other, they must
first feel _with_ each other. To have their sympathies in common, they
must have not one object of gain, but an object of admiration in common;
to know that they are brothers, they must feel that they have one Father;
and one way to feel that they have one common Father, is to see each
other wondering, side by side, at His glorious works!
Footnotes:
{80a} H.M.S. the Duke of Wellington.
{80b} Form of prayer to be used at sea.
{199} This was written and sent out to the army before Sebastopol in the
winter of 1855.
{222} Prescott's "History of the Conquest of Mexico." See Book v., ch.
1.
{230} Mr. Kingsley wrote these papers for London working-men, but his
words apply just as much to soldiers in London barracks, as to artizans.
He thought much of the good of pictures, and all beautiful things for
hard-worked men who could see such things in public galleries, though
they could not afford to have them in their own homes.
{243} Since this paper was written in 1848 many such institutions have
been opened, at South Kensington, and in several great towns.