The visitor, on entering the British Museum for the third time, will
commence his examination of the massive Antiquities, which are
scattered throughout the noble galleries that stretch along the
western basement of the building. His spirit must again wander to the
remote past. Again must he recur to the ancient civilisation of
southern Europe, and the busy people that covered the valley of the
Nile before Alexander breathed. He has already examined the household
utensils, the bodies, the ornaments, and the food of the ancient
Egyptians, and has had more than a glimpse of the artistic excellence
to which they attained long before our Christian era. Of the
sepulchral caves of Thebes, of the massive pyramids sacred to the
ancient Pharaohs, of the strange images of beasts and men, of the
sacred beetles, and the universal Ibis, he has already examined minute
specimens arranged in the cases of the Egyptian Room; but he has yet
to witness those evidences of power, and scorn of difficulties,
exhibited in the colossal works of the Egyptian people.
On entering the Museum for the third time, the visitor should turn to
the left, and passing under the staircase, enter the galleries devoted
to Ancient Sculpture. He will at once be struck with the strange
allegorical figures clustered on all sides, the broken bodies, the
fragments of arms and legs, the corners of slabs, and other
dilapidations. Here a fine figure is without a nose, there Theseus
holds aloft two handless arms, and legs without feet. The visitor who
has not the least insight into the heart of all these collections of
fragments from tombs, and temples, and neglected ruins, is perhaps
inclined to laugh at the enthusiasm with which they are generally
examined, and the rapturous strains in which the greatest critics have
written of them. Not to all people is the enthusiasm of Lord Elgin
comprehensible. Why not allow the fragments of the Parthenon to be
ground into fine white mortar, and the busts of ancient heroes to be
targets for the weapons of Turkish youths? are questions which a few
utilitarians may be inclined to ask; and it would certainly be
difficult to show, for instance in figures, the gain the country has
made by expending 35,000£. on the Elgin marbles: in the same way that
it is difficult to appraise the beneficial influence of beauty, or to
test the developments of the universe by double entry.
But let the visitor pace these noble galleries of his national museum
with a reverent heart, let him learn from these beautiful labours of
long ago, that not only to him and his fellows of the proud nineteenth
century, when fiery words are flashing through the seas, and steam
fights like a demon with time, were the living years pregnant with the
glories of art; but that the Egyptian, with his rude bronze chisel,
cut his native rocks with no unskilful hand, before the Son of God lay
cradled in a manger.
Past the bewildering fragments of art in the south-western gallery to
the south-western corner of the building, then south like an arrow to
the northern end of the sculpture rooms, should the visitor at once
proceed. He will pass by fragments of Assyrian, Greek, and Roman art,
but to these he should now pay little heed, as his immediate business
is with the fine gallery of