is the most beautiful monument in the world; even that of the Prince
Consort, in Hyde Park, is poor beside it. It is to be remembered,
however, that, according to the imperial custom of that period and
region, such tombs were built while those for whom they were intended
were yet living. They were by no means what Western people would
imagine to be tombs, but beautiful pleasure-domes of purest marbles.
During the lives of their builders they were wont to invite their
friends to gay feasts in them, and this continued until the pretty
palace received the dead bodies of those who had enjoyed them, and were
so turned into monuments.
It is not always that these ancient monuments, as in Akbar’s case,
survive to remind the world of to-day what forerunners some of its
characteristic tendencies had in early times and unsuspected places.
Indeed, it might surprise some of the magnificent princes of the East
in the far past if they could now visit London and observe the kind
of interest their monuments excite. Here, for example, is an exact
and full-sized copy of that ancient iron pillar of Delhi which some
think gave the province its name. It was set up in the fourth century,
and is twenty-two feet above ground. All manner of superstitions have
grown around it. The Hindoos have a belief that it rests upon the head
of the king-serpent Vásaki, near the earth’s centre; that the founder
of a great dynasty was told by an oracle that if he planted it there
his kingdom would never be shaken so long as it should stand; that
one of his successors, doubting this legend, dug it up, and found the
bottom stained with the serpent’s blood; and that in consequence the
dynasty passed away before Mussulman and then English conquerors.
For ages this pillar has been kept polished by the vast numbers who
climbed or tried to climb it every year, success in this feat being
deemed a proof of high pedigree. But during fifteen centuries there
were two rather obvious things which the Hindoos appear never to have
attempted--one was to really dig about the bottom of this pillar, the
other to translate an old Sanscrit inscription on it. Both of these
have recently been done by Englishmen. The bottom was found to reach
only twenty inches beneath the surface of the earth, there resting on
a gridiron of iron bars. The inscription testifies that it was set
up by a prince unknown in other Hindoo annals. This prince, Dháva by
name, would appear to have been the most extraordinary being that
the sun ever shone upon, or, rather, that ever shone upon the sun. A
clause of the inscription runs: “By him who obtained with his own arm
an undivided sovereignty on the earth for a long period, who united
in himself the qualities of the sun and the moon, who had beauty of
countenance like the full moon--by this same Rajah Dháva, having bowed
his head to the feet of Vishnu, and fixed his mind on him, was this
very lofty arm of the adored Vishnu [the pillar] caused to be erected.”
There was probably a figure of Garuda on it originally, which the
Mohammedans would have removed; but the real object of the pillar,
Mr. Fergusson thinks, was to celebrate the defeat of the Balhikas
(<small>A.D.</small> 364 or 371). “It is,” says Fergusson, “to say the
least of it, a curious coincidence that, eight centuries afterward, men
from that same Bactrian country should have erected a Jaya Stambha ten
times as tall as this one, in the same court-yard, to celebrate their
victory over the descendants of those Hindoos who so long before had
expelled their ancestors from the country.” The chief present value of
the monument of this magnificent individual is the light it enables
such archæologists of metals as Day, Percy, Murray, and Mallet to cast
on the early use of iron. It is pure malleable iron, without alloy;
and though since it was forged it has been exposed to the weather, it
is unrusted, and the capital and inscription are as clear as when it
was set up fourteen centuries ago. Mr. Day has shown the remarkable
interest of this pillar in that respect, though I believe that the
iron sickle found beneath the feet of a Sphinx, and now in the British
Museum, brings us nearer to Tubal-cain by a thousand years, being
assigned to <small>B.C.</small> 600.
The Indian section has sundry “trophies,” among which the “Tippoo
Tiger” is conspicuous. As it is just possible that some transatlantic
readers may be so benighted as not to know what the “Tippoo Tiger”
is, I will explain that it is a musical instrument contrived for the
delectation of Tippoo Sahib. It is a large-sized tiger, under whose
claws lies a prostrate Englishman, dressed pretty much in the fashion
of a London City merchant of East India Company times. When this
emblematic organ is played the music that issues consists of blended
tiger-growls and human groans. This instrument was made for Tippoo
Sultan by a fellow-citizen of the tiger’s victim! It brought much
satisfaction to the royal breast of Tippoo, and still more perhaps to
the boys who used to be taken to see and hear it when it was a show in
Leadenhall Street. Not far from it is also a beautiful cannon which
belonged to Tippoo Sahib; it was captured at Mysore, and presented
to the Queen. Instead of the cross with which the godly guns of
Christendom are decorated, this one is adorned with the sun and moon;
but it has also a lion, to remind Britannia where her own emblem may
have originated. Tippoo Sahib’s throne was supported by massive gold
tiger-heads, admirably wrought, one of which is also in the Windsor
collection. He would seem to have been fond of animals.
There is in the Oriental fire-arms a notable resemblance to the old
arquebus. It looks as if when the Orientals received gunpowder from
the West they received also the cross-bows with which it was first
connected; and, while that shape has been completely modified here, it
has been retained in the East. The powder-horns and other accoutrements
also have a curious resemblance to the mediæval shape of such things in
Europe.
Prominence is given to another “trophy,” the throne of Runjeet Singh,
whom the English overthrew. It is a large throne, wrought of pure gold,
and too softly cushioned to have ever fulfilled the much-needed duties
of that Eastern throne whose velvet seat turned to rough flint whenever
any subject of him who sat on it was suffering an injustice.
There are a good many things in this Indian section which one meets
with surprise. For example, here is a tablet of marble which belonged
to the Parsees of Bombay, but is decorated with Assyrian figures; also,
there is a panel brought from the Audience Hall of the Great Mogul, on
which is fashioned in marbles of various colors a fair copy of Orpheus
charming the beasts with his violin, as it was found frescoed in the
Catacombs. It is surmised that Austin de Bordeaux, who worked for a
time at Delhi, copied it from Raphael’s picture, and made Orpheus
a portrait of himself. But it is not so easy to explain the close
resemblance between the ancient pottery of Gour and the Delia Robbia
ware.
The collection of jade in this section is superb; it cannot be worth
much less than fifty thousand pounds. The splendid jewellery, the rich
stuffs, the models of Hindoos of all castes, the conventionalized
figures of the deities, the pottery of all times and places in India
here collected, make this new section one of unique interest, and one
which cannot fail to prove of importance to the industrial arts as well
as to Oriental studies.
[Illustration: MODERN PERSIAN EWER (COPPER-COATED, WITH WHITE METAL).]
South Kensington Museum contains a noble collection of Persian
articles, ancient and modern, made for it in that country by Major
E. Murdoch Smith, of the Royal Engineers. I say ancient and modern;
but where an art has had a continuous evolution it would be perhaps
more philosophical to pronounce its last results the oldest, and its
“modern” period that in which it was newest. In no other part of
this museum have I seen works which reminded me so much of that long
conspiracy between man and nature by which wild-briers have turned
to roses. It seemed to me there might be written on the walls this
beautiful page of the “Rose Garden” of Sâdi: “I have heard that in the
land of the East they are forty years in making a china cup: they make
a hundred a day at Bagdad, and consequently you see the meanness of
the price. A chicken, as soon as it comes out of the egg, seeks its
food; but an infant hath not reason and discrimination. That which
was something all at once never arrives at much perfection; and the
other by degrees surpasses all things in power and excellence. Glass
is everywhere, and therefore of no value; the ruby is obtained with
difficulty, and on that account is precious. Affairs are accomplished
through patience: the hasty man faileth in his undertakings.”
It was probably under the inspiration of these very words of Sâdi that
Bagdad in the end vindicated itself. “The powerful Abbaside Caliphs
of Bagdad,” says Major Murdoch Smith, “no doubt summoned to their
court men of science and learning from all the countries under their
sway--Persia furnishing them with architects and other artists. Skilled
Persian workmen were no doubt employed in large numbers in decorating
the mosques and palaces in the Arab capital, situated as it was on
the very frontier of their own country. Thence, we believe, arose the
so-called Arabian or arabesque style of ornament, afterward so widely
spread, and now so well known. The peculiar pendent ornamentation of
vaults and niches, of which the Alhambra is so typical an example,
is identical in style with that used throughout Persia down to the
present day.” If this theory be true--and really these works appear to
sanction it--the Arabs derived their arts from Persia, as the Romans
did from the Greeks, and consequently the Moors imported a Persian art
into Spain. The Shah of Persia, in wishing to carry back with him Owen
Jones’s reproductions of the Alhambra at the Crystal Palace, had good
reason for his selection.
[Illustration: OLD PERSIAN EARTHENWARE (WATER-BOTTLE).]
It is difficult to tell the age of most of this Persian work, and I
think the enterprising collector of these specimens is not always happy
in his estimates. Thus there is a beautiful vase (No. 1224) which
Major Smith thinks over 500 years old, on the ground that it bears an
inscription in Pehlevi; but that is no more evidence than would be a
Latin epitaph in Westminster Abbey that the monument was erected during
the Roman occupation of Britain. The collection shows that Persian art
is by no means in such a state of decay as many have supposed. This
is especially true of the exquisite damascene work still executed
at Ispahan. “The true damascene,” says our collector, “is made of a
particular kind of iron. After the object is forged it is placed for
six or eight days in the furnace of a hot bath, where the greatest
attention has to be paid to the even heating of the article. The bath
is heated with the dried dung of cows and other animals, which gives
a steady and not very intense heat, and is supposed to contain the
salts necessary for the formation of true damascene. When the article
is taken out of the furnace it is left at the temper it has therein
acquired. It is then finished and polished. To bring out the grain a
certain mineral (of which a specimen may be seen in the museum) is
then applied in the following manner: about three parts of the mineral
are dissolved in ten of water, over a slow fire, in an earthenware or
leaden vessel. The object is then slightly heated, and a little of the
liquid applied with a cotton wad, after which it is washed in cold
water. If the damascene does not appear sufficiently the operation is
repeated. The object must be thoroughly cleaned and polished before the
mineral is applied.”
[Illustration: PERSIAN KALIĀN.]
It is very doubtful if Corsinet, the French artist who carried the art
of damascening to such an extent in the time of Henry IV., has left
any such beautiful work as this now being wrought by artists whose
names are unknown in Europe. The three kinds of ornamentation known
as “damascening” are elegantly represented--the delicately lustred
and watered blade, the light etching on polished steel, and the rich
inlaying of steel with gold and silver. One of the most beautiful
pieces of work is a kaliān or hookah (for smoking tobacco) of brass
open-work, with turquoise and other ornamentation. In the head of this
great and solemn pipe the tobacco is placed, slightly moistened, under
pieces of live charcoal, which are prevented from falling off by the
movable top of the bottle containing the water, into which the end of
the stem descends. The tobacco smoked is the mild Tombaku, produced
near Shiraz, which really is the best “Turkish,” though Turkey never
produced a leaf of it. If any one will gaze on this Persian hookah he
will see why it is imposing enough to warrant such religious treatment
as its Indian counterpart, the hubble-bubble, has received at the hands
of an eloquent Vedantist preacher of my acquaintance (Chintamon). The
hubble-bubble is generally made of a cocoa-nut shell, with a receptacle
for water, through which the smoke passes before being inhaled. In
Chintamon’s parable the stem represents the body; passions are the
tobacco; the bowl is mind; understanding is the plug which prevents
the tobacco-passions from blocking up the stem-body; knowledge is the
fire which separates passion--the pure from the impure; the evil is
reduced to ashes, and vanishes in the vapor of folly; while through
the purifying water of reflection, and the mouth-piece of mental
satisfaction, man draws the desirable aroma of content, and hears a
bubbling noise which suggests the still small voice of Reason.
[Illustration: ANCIENT PERSIAN INCENSE-BURNER (PIERCED AND CHASED
BRASS).]
Among the many exquisite books, manuscripts, and paintings--the latter
being oftenest upon the covers of the finest books--there is one
of surpassing beauty. It is a copy of the works of Sâdi, a modern
manuscript with six illuminated pages forming the head-pieces of the
six books, all the pages being bordered in gold and colors. The covers
have been painted by the artist Nadjaf, who lived about fifty years
ago, on the outside with certain battles between some shahs, sultans,
and their like; but on the inside of one cover is a picture of the poet
Hafiz surrounded by his friends; on the inside of the other cover is
a picture of Sâdi conversing with his pupils. What grace, what honor,
was in the heart of him who drew these pictures! Amidst such tints
Sâdi might be saying to his pupils one of the passages that are here
written: “I saw a peacock’s feather in the leaves of the Koran. I said,
‘I consider this an honor much greater than your quality deserves.’ He
replied, ‘Be silent; for whosoever has beauty, wherever he puts his
foot doth not every one receive him with respect?’ A little beauty is
preferable to great wealth.”
[Illustration: MODERN PERSIAN INCENSE-BURNER (BRASS).]
I hear of some prosaic young Englishmen who are wandering about the
banks of the Euphrates to try and find the locality of Eden. I venture
to affirm that with the Kaliān, plenty of Tombaku, Sâdi’s Gulistan,
and this rose-garden manuscript, I can get nearer Eden reclining on yon
English grass than those young gentlemen seeking it so far away. Yet it
is pleasant, in a melancholy way, to see the never-failing fascination
which the Oriental world has for these Northern races. The hardest,
least imaginative Englishman will feel some sweeter pulsation about
his heart when he sees one of Holman Hunt’s pictures of Palestine, or
hears the solemn roll of Oriental poetry.
“A pine-tree’s standing lonely
In the North, on a mountain’s brow,
Nodding with whitest cover,
Wrapped up by the ice and snow.
“He’s dreaming of a palm-tree,
Which, far in the Morning Land,
Lonely and silent sorrows
‘Mid burning rocks and sand.”[D]
But here my rambles through these unlimited fields must draw to a
close. One must, amidst such numberless treasures gathered from the
great streams of Time, more especially remember Sydney Smith’s advice,
based on the post-diluvial brevity of human life, that writers should
“think of Noah, and be brief.” It is with a certain distress that I
feel compelled to pass by the great galleries of pictures, including
some of the finest Turners, Wilkies, and Gainsboroughs, and a large
number of historic paintings. The Forster bequest, with its charming
souvenirs of famous actors, actresses, and authors, in the shape of
portraits, character-sketches, and autographs--among the latter the
MSS. of most of the works of Dickens--were of itself the sufficient
theme for a treatise.
[Illustration: ANDREA GRITTI, DOGE OF VENICE--ITALIAN. ASCRIBED TO
VITTORE CAMELO. SIXTEENTH CENTURY.]
[Illustration: TAZZA--ALGERIAN ONYX AND ENAMEL. MODERN FRENCH.]
[Illustration: SALT-CELLAR--SILVER GILT; ITALIAN. FIFTEENTH CENTURY.]
No collection in the museum is more deserving of attention than that
of the musical instruments, which show the entire evolution of the
art, from the first savage bark drum and the pipe that Pan might have
played to his flocks, up to the last grand piano; but for twelve
shillings the reader may procure Mr. Carl Engel’s admirable _résumé_
of this department. Since it was written an interesting series of
instruments has been added (Indian section), and it is to be hoped
that these will be included in a new edition of Herr Engel’s work. The
Indian instruments have not changed in many centuries, some not for two
thousand years; their harp (chang) is identical with one represented
in the Nineveh sculptures. Unfortunately there is no catalogue to
the museum; but there may be had full works on the ancient ivories
(one guinea), textile fabrics (one and a half guineas), majolica (two
guineas), furniture and woodwork (one guinea). There are small shilling
“Handbooks,” giving succinct histories of the arts of working in gold
and silver, bronze, pottery, etc., with general reference to objects in
the museum, which are useful and interesting. There also exists a full
catalogue of books on art (two guineas); and I may mention that at the
present moment it is possible to collect in London an admirable art
library for a moderate sum--an advantage that will soon disappear. The
present art library in the museum is the only one possessing anything
like completeness in Europe; it contains 45,000 volumes. This is quite
distinct from the educational library, which has an equal number of
volumes.
[Illustration: IVORY TANKARD--AUGSBURG. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.]
But we must not part from South Kensington without considering how
fares therein the aim and purpose out of which it grew, namely, culture
and training in every variety of art. It will at once be recognized
that the art schools, enjoying such an unparalleled environment as to
examples, carried on also in rooms of vast extent, perfectly lighted,
heated, ventilated, and furnished, must be judged by a higher standard
than other institutions of the kind in Europe or in America. And,
retrospectively, the schools must be conceded to have done wonders.
For one thing, it may be claimed that it found the art education of
the nation at zero and raised it enormously. By wisely using its power
to send floating through the provincial cities a loan exhibition,
and by a judicious distribution of the annual fund (now about £2500)
granted it by Parliament to aid institutions of a like character,
which are willing also to aid themselves, the Commission has been the
means of establishing throughout the kingdom schools devoted to art,
and in forming classes in colleges to teach art, to an extent which
has increased by 150 per cent. the number of those who study art
to prosecute it for itself, or to apply it to make their work more
artistic. Between the years 1855-‘77, 27,000 objects of art and 24,000
paintings were circulated by the museum through the United Kingdom.
In the various provincial towns and cities where they have been left
for several months at a time, these works have been visited by over
6,000,000 of persons and copied by many students, the cost to the
Science and Art Department being over £100,000. In order to tempt
Schools of Art to acquire permanent objects for museums of their own,
the Department offers a grant in aid of fifty per cent. on the cost
of such objects. Parliament is continually inquiring into the means
of increasing the utility of the collections in this direction. South
Kensington has already awakened a higher taste throughout the nation,
and especially in London. The number of visitors has increasingly
exceeded a million each year; and should the museum be opened on Sunday
afternoons--a step which can hardly fail to be taken ere long--this
number must be vastly increased. These crowds, however, never make the
rooms seem crowded; their decorum is equal to that which is preserved
in the best drawing-rooms; there have been only two cases in the
history of the museum where persons have been ejected (the fault being
tipsiness); and no article of value has ever been missed. In strolling
through the building with George Boughton we concluded to follow some
very rough-looking youths and observe what objects attracted their
attention. We were surprised to find them passing by King Koffee’s
umbrella and trinkets to devote all their time to the statues of
Michael Angelo. I have repeatedly observed similar phenomena in the
picture-galleries--the roughest people crowding around the best works
of art.
The way in which all this has told upon the work of the country has
been jealously watched, and also fairly recognized by foreign critics.
The first gold medal awarded on the Continent for art education,
awarded to South Kensington, was not given by any favor, and it
was won by a great deal of hard work. In the introduction to the
seven-volume report presented to the French Government in 1862, M.
Chevallier says: “Rivals are springing up, and the pre-eminence of
France may receive a shock if we do not take care. The upward movement
is visible, above all, among the English. The whole world has been
struck with the progress they have made since the last Exhibition in
designs for stuffs, in the distribution of colors, also in carving and
sculpture, and generally in articles of furniture.” M. Rupet urged the
establishment of a museum in Paris similar to that at South Kensington,
saying: “It is impossible to ignore the fact that a serious struggle
awaits France from this quarter.” The report from Lyons--whose School
of Design was, to a large extent, the model copied by England--says:
“With Great Britain we shall have some day to settle accounts, for she
has made great progress in art since the Exhibition of 1851.” These
statements are much more true now than when they were written. In the
direction to which they refer--that of decorative art--South Kensington
has certainly taken a leading position in Europe. The evidences of
this are appearing daily. For example, the firm of Messrs. Corbière &
Sons, which was established in London about twenty-eight years ago as
an importing house for French patterns and goods, has now been almost
changed into an exporting house, sending to France patterns and designs
for goods which it obtains from South Kensington. Even this is hardly
so grateful to the English as a report lately made by a large Glasgow
firm, that it has for some years been obtaining from this museum, at
the annual cost of a few hundred pounds, designs such as it had been
for many years previously securing from Paris and Lyons at a cost of
£2000 per annum.
[Illustration: FINEST RAISED VENETIAN POINT LACE--FLORAL DESIGN.
ITALIAN. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.]