Nordisk Museologi 1993 no. 2

NoRDrsK MusEoLocr 1993.2, s. t-2 

TTTT MUSEETS GE,NEALOGI 

"En god museiman er en person med ett gott oga" (a man with an eye) sh:iver 

David M Vilson i sin lilla bok om British Museum (1989). Han triiffar siikert 

riitt. Det viisentliga i museets meddelanden till det omgivande samh?illet er grun- 

dat pi synligheter; ur det synliga harleds museets tolkningar och budskap' I det 

uppvisade och utstiillda framhggs bevisen som skall iivertyga betraktaren om bud- 

skapets giltighet. Men seendet har en historia. Perceptionens villkor piverkas av 

ftiriindringar i de diskurser och paradigmforskjutningar som styr vir uppfattningsfiirmiga, 

vira ftirestiillningar och virldsbilder. Museets samlande och utstiillningar 

blir darigenom en fortldpande och instruktiv spegel av tankeformernas fijrlndringar 

i viiswirlden. 

Det var darf,ijr en sdrdeles givande anall'tisk utgingspunkt som valts fiir det dan- 

ska Nationalmuseets stora utstellning Museam Earopa, der det museala seendet 

gjorts till grundtema. Utst?illningen synliggjorde frra grundryper: det kuriose, det 

spejtendt, dzt panoramishe, det sarreale blih. Genom studier i norra Europas dldsta 

samlingar och i avbildningar av deras exponering vid olika tidpunkter formades 

urstdllningsplanen av utstdllningsgruPP€n under Annesofie Beckers ledning' Tack 

vare att ett rikt urval ur dessa samlingar varit miijligt att lina gav utstlllningen en 

unik och fantasieggande dokumentation av det museala seendets former. 

Tematiken avtecknade sig i en expressiv scenografi med de skilda utstillningsde- 

larna infattade i stiliserade, associativa sdttstycken. 

Mase*m Europakan med fiirdel ses som ett kvalificerat museologiskt forsknings- 

projekt som givits en adekvat visuell redovisningsform - en utstdllning. Sedan den 

nu avslutats i Kiipenhamn, kommer den att hiisten 1994 visas i Bonn. 

Men tankestrukturen i utstdllningen finns ocksi textmissigt redovisad i en vac- 

ker katalog der bl.a. de viilformulerade introduktionstexterna till utstillningens 

avdelningar iterges. I projektet ingir ?iven en videokassett med sex korta beskrivj 

ningar av besiik i Urmuseum, Dresden, Museo del Costume e delle Arti Popolari, 

Nuori, Sir John Soane's House and Museum, London, La Specola, Firenze,

NoRDf sK MU\Eorocr 199 J . 2 

Museum des Institutes fiir Geschichte der Medizin, $7ien och The Pitt Rivers 

Museum, Oxford (se vidare s. I I 1). 

Utstillningen gav anledning till ett specialnummer av Den jysbe Historiher 

(6411993) - 'Museum Europa. Om tingenes orden' - som det finns goda skil for 

den museologiskt inresserade arr ra del av. Det innehiller uppsatser av danskarna 

Jens Erik Kristensen, Carsten Thau, Jiirgen Jensen, Frederik Stjernfelt, Inger 

Sj,iirslev; norrmannen Arnfinn Bo-Rygg, svenskarna Ingela Lind och Sverker 

Sdrlin samt Krzysztof Pomian, Paris, Hermann Ltibbe, Znich, G \7 von Leibniz 

(med kommentar av Arno V Nielsen), rValter Grasskamp, Aachen, och Marie- 

Louise von Plessen, Berlin. Filosofen Arno Victor Nielsen har rediserat och skrivit 

en sammanhillande inledning. 

Symposiet Till museets genealogi, 23-25 september 1993, organiserar av 

Nationalmuseet i samarbete med museologiska institutionen i Umei, hade utstall- 

ningen som sjiilvklar och ndraliggande referens. De rexter som publiceras i detta 

nummer av tidskriften presenterades som bidrag till symposiet - med tve undan- 

tag. Holger Rasmussens om Bernhard Olsen ingick i Museumshrijskolens foreliis- 

ningsserie, varur tre bidrag fanns med i fureglende nummer. Susan Pearce var fdrhindrad 

att deltaga i symposiet, men har bidragit i efterhand. 

Alla bidragen till museets genealogi f5r dessvd.rre inte plats. Texter av bl a rValter 

Grasskamp, Marie-Louise von Plessen, Beat \Zyss, Bjornar Olsen och Sverker 

Stirlin hoppas vi fl tillfille att aterge i ett kommande nummer. 

Ftirsta irgingen av Nordisk Museologi som nu - med viss fordrtijning - fdreligger 

komplett, har kunnat utges tack vare ekonomiskt sttjd av Nordisk Kulturfond, 

Museumshiijskolen och Norsk Museumsuwikling. 

I-er- un0 Agren 

Museet og al dcts raten er i disse lr pladselig blea.t g.nttdnd for ttol tcoretisk intererc bknd flosofer, hulmrhi- 

totikere, huburjournalister og sdgar blandt museumsfolh. Det er som om museet pludselig har tabt sin us$tld, sin 

ftlufolgelighed. Hud er det cgcxtlig ui gor, nfu oi fildn et skab, en monne, et rum, lhre rum, cllcr m hel b1g- 

xing op med ting og saget och halder det et museum? Den slags sporgsmtl *dtrykher, huad man med etfnt ord 

halder en metabeuiAtbed om mueeet. Den er fodsamingen for, at dzr kan opxl en egentlig teoi - lagos - om 

museet, ahsd rcn museologi. (Arno Victor Nieken i 'Den jyske Historier', 64/199j)

THp GnNpnLoGY oF THE 

Musnuvr 

Annesofe Becker 

NoRDrsK MusEo Loc r 19 9 3.2, s. 3-j 

The title of the symltosion was "The Genealngy of the Museum". tX/hy did ue use a 

u.,ord fom ancient Greek? lVhy not just call it "The Hisnry of the Museam" or "The 

pedigree of the Museum"? lYhy did ue giae priority to the museum's temporality? 

In the course ofthe last ten lears, the museum world has been subjected to a great deal 

of change. tVe onlt hnou that there has certain$ beeen a museum's boom and that, 

quoting Waber Grasshamp, "tlte rnuseam has become the metaphor for our time". Just 

afeut years ago, the question uas ulsether or not there utoald still be a museum in the 

future. But this is no longer the case. No, the question non, is wltether or not there will 

be a future for the museum, Tbda1,, the anxiery about the future itself is greater and 

more real than any anxiety about the future of the museum. 

The development has occurred at such a 

rapid pace rhat ir is difficult ro imagine 

what the museum of the future will be. In 

such a predicament, it is only human to 

turn our saze backwards and to take refuge 

In hrstory In the hope ot hndtng some 

answers there. \Jfe misht also formulate 

the current situation in this way - the crisis 

of the museum's very existence has 

been replaced by a crisis of orientauon, a 

crisis of meaning. 

Ihat is the way it olten happens in rhe 

affluent surplus society. There is no shortage 

of museums, but we are short ofknowing 

what we want with the museum. 

That is why we put the temporaliE of the 

museum on rhe agenda for the symposion. 

lifhere will the develooment lead toi This 

is certainly one of the questions, albeit in 

parenthesis, which we have wanted to raise 

with the exhibition, Museum Europa. 

But rhen, why did we nor jusr entitle 

the symposion "The History of the Museum"? 

\Vhy did we replace 'history' with 

'genealogy'? We used the word 'genealogy' 

because we do not take ir for eranted that 

history has a continuous line-ar development. 

We want to dissociate ourselves 

from traditional linear historiography. We 

would prefer ro avoid forward and backward 

projection. \Ve are most reluctant, 

in any event, ro impose presenr-day categories 

upon the past. After all, it has been 

a long time since anybody dared to assert 

that we are living in the best of all possible 

worlds.

ANN Eso FIE BEcKER 

Ilhstation from tltc Mucum Europa cxhibition 

In traditional hisrorical scholarship, the 

questions about the museum's history, 

about the museum's origin, have been 

based on the assumotion that there is 

some particular Goi-given, inherently 

inevitable, immutable prototype of museum, 

that has only beeen dressed up in the 

various robes of the times. lfith this 

assumption in mind, the concern of rhe 

museum historian has been to focus his or 

her X-ray vision in order to look through 

the historical disguise and penerrate to the 

core of the matter, to attain the essence, 

that which is the museum's true self. 

Paradoxically enough, the traditional 

museum historian has in fact presupposed 

a museum-essence that is temoved from 

history an essence which the various museums 

through time should have brought 

into manifestation, in different degrees. 

'$7ith the concept of 'genealogy' we 

wanted to accentuate a distance, or evcn 

more - we wanted to liberate ourselves - 

from the traditional means and methods 

of museum's historical inquiry and museology. 

In such a way the wlrd was introduced 

by Nietzsche with his book "Zur 

Genealogie der Moral" (1887) and again 

today by more contemporary Nietzscheans 

like Michel Foucault. \i/herex history 

would indicate that which is indispensable, 

and therefore unavoidable, in the 

museums oF our time, geneahgy promises 

to unveil that which is accidental, and 

therefore variable, about the present condition 

of things. \Vhereas traditional historical 

investigation fixates the past as a 

preliminary stadium of the present, 'genealogy' 

construes the past as an image that is 

in contrast with the present. A-nd this 

allows us to think about rhe frrture in arr 

entirely different way. 

The genealogical viewpoint does not 

make any claim that ic is imperarive to 

discover the one and only true museum, 

Instead the museum genealogist goes ahead 

in much the same mannef as Peer Gynt, 

the character from Henrik lbsen's plav. 

He or she peels rhe museum as if it weie 

an onion, Unlike Peer Gynt, how-ever, he 

or she does not throw the onion skins 

away, only to despair about the empry 

essence. No, to the museum genealogist, 

the museum is precisely the accidental 

sum and sequence of onion skins. The 

museum vaniihes uowards into the conditions 

of its progr.rr "ttd its lineage; ir is 

nothing more and nothing less than its 

own historical conditions of possibility

From the exhibition Museam Europa. Soutce: The exhibition catalogue. 

and progress. And therefore, the genealogist 

takes history more seriously into 

account than the traditional historian; 

each and every layer of the onion's skins 

becomes interesting, 

Every epoch contrives its own museums. 

The museums that we have today arc nor 

ripened versions of museums that were 

somehow previously more naive. No, they 

are distinctive cultural institutions that are 

specific for our rime. They are the result 

of a complex interplay of a multitude of 

accidental historical facts. We can vcnrure 

to menrion a random sampling of these: 

the tourist trade; rhe modern alliance betweeen 

economics, politics and culture; the 

electronic media; the preservation of culture 

as a compensation for the loss of 

THI G ENEA r.ocy oF t Hti MusLUM 

nature; the modern culture of cxperience 

and event; the professionalization and 

mechanization of culrural adm inistration, 

and so on. 

As everybody knows, the eyes begin to 

sting when you are peeling an onion. But 

it was my hope, nevertheless, that during 

the course of rhe symposion. many onions 

would be peeled. Onions are rich in nurrition, 

they taste good, and rhey can be prepared 

in many, many ways. 

Annetofc Bechn ar aalillningsprodacmt oth har btt 

arbetct mcd 'Maseum Europa' sedzn projehut inltddcs 

1989. 

Adr: Danmarks Nationalmaseam, F-rcdaihsholms Katal 

12, DK-|220 Kibmha,n K l:AX +45 | 33148411.

NoRDrsK M usEoLoc I 1993 . 2 

Fig. 1. L.D. Henunn\ pyamidal cabint opeaed, fiouing bb colleoion ofSilzsiat tns. 

Aliet S temmc rmatn I 934.

NoRDisK MusEoLocI 199 3.2, s.7-18 

ANUqUARIAN ArrtruDES 

CHaNCING RESPONSES 

TO THE PAST IN THE MUSEUM 

E,NVIRONMENT 

Arthur MacGregor 

Of the manl attributes that may deem an object tttorthy of inclusion in a museum, 

that of antiquity is one ofthe mlst Potent - in a sense the most powerful of all' for 

other considerations such as beauty ofform, originality ofdesign, quality of u-'orh' 

manship or historical association may all be glossed ouer in the presence of extreme age. 

rVhile antiquities haue formed common components of museums throughout the histo- 

ry of collecting strihing changes haae tahen place in the signifcance at*ibuted to 

them, not merefi in the light of better understanding but more fandamentally in the 

way in which perceptions of antiquity itself haue been repeatedly teuised and reinter- 

preted u.,ithin the museum context. These tuin considerations of expanding undetstan' 

ding and changing perceptions ofthe past within the museum programme will form 

the basis of m1 paper. 

AMBIGUITY 

AND THE KUNSTKA]UIM E R 

In the Renaissance Kunsthammer, antiqutties 

occupied a place that was - like so 

many other categories of material - Iess 

clearly segregated than would be conceivable 

today. The integriry of the collection, 

rather than the special significance of its 

constituent parts, was of prime importance: 

the museum was essentially a work of 

compilation, easily understood and frequently 

referred to in the same terms as a 

work of literary anthology.' Again, the 

language of grammar presents itself today 

as the most apposite means ol comprehending 

significance within Renaissance collections: 

the concepts of synecdoche - pars 

pro toto - and metaphor encapsulate periectly 

the manner in which the fragment 

might substitute for the whole in a symbolic 

rather than a purely physical sense, 

or in which, for example, the heavenly 

planets might be represented by an armillary 

sphere. The element of ambiguity 

which such mulriple interpretations

ARTH UR MAcGREGoR 

encouraged was to prove of real significance 

in allowing antiquities to be absorbed 

into the collection even at a time when 

their precise identitv remained little 

understood. 

It was, of course, the more formal 

monuments of classical Rome that wcre to 

provide collectors with the most direct 

opportunicy of confronting the past, but 

just at the time when material remains of 

the Roman world were becominq more 

familiar, artefacts from the infinireiy more 

obscure prehisroric societies of northern 

Europe also began to infiltrate the 

museum. inevitably, comprehension of 

their significance was very limited at first: 

there was simply no conceptual framework 

within which such items could be 

fined, nor any idea of a time-scale within 

which they might belong. In England the 

debate into the age of the earth itself seemed 

to have been settled for good with 

publication of the findings of a learned 

Irish divine, Archbishop James Ussher 

(1581-1656), that the very year of the 

Creation had been fixed at 4004BC.' Even 

within this limited time-scale for mankind 

- which shared, in Sir Thomas Browne's 

words, 'the same horoscoDe as the world' - 

there seems to have been a relucrance ro 

speculate on the condirion of such inhabitants 

as northern Europe may have had 

before its encounter with Roman civilization. 

Indeed, opinion seems to have been 

that they were in general so benighted as 

to be best ienored. 

Given thise unpromising circumsrances, 

the ensuing difficulties of interpretation of 

archaeological material become entirely 

understandable. To take the examole of 

pottery vessels which were discovered 

from time to dme conraining prehistoric 

burials, there was an extended period of 

uncertainry during which their very status 

as man-made objects was hotly conresred. 

As early as 1416 certain tracts of ground 

were investigated at the instigarion of an 

Austrian duke, Ernsr der Eiserne, in 

response to rumours rhar pots in various 

shapes had sprung naturally from the 

€arth there; some of these pots rvete conveyed 

to the duke himsell and although 

his response is not recorded, for many 

years opinion as to their origin continued 

to favour spontaneous production rather 

than human agency.r Typical of the light 

in which they were regarded is the 

account published in 1562 by a Lutheran 

pastor named Mathesius: 

It is indeed remarkable that these vessels are so varied 

in shape that no one is like the other, and thar in 

the earth they are as soft as coral in water, harde- 

ning only in the air... It is said that there was once a 

grave on the spot, with the ashes of the dead, as in 

an ancient urn... But sincc the vessels are only dug 

up in May, when they reveal rheir position by forming 

mounds as though the eanh were pregnant 

(which guides those who seek them) I consider 

them to be natural growths, not manufactured, but 

created by God and Nature.' 

A similar belief in these 'gewachsene 

Ti;pffe' is reported a fe* yea'rs later by 

Petrus Albinus, confirmins that others 

believed the pots to be dee"ply buried in 

winter time, rising close to the surface and 

hence being recoverable only in the summer 

months.t Such a view remained orevalent 

for many years ro come,'although 

the fact that some pots came to be preserved 

in museum collections provided opportunities 

for more obiective assessmen$ 

to be made. Rudolf II was inrrigued by rhe

nature of archaeologica.l items fiom his territories 

in Lusatia and Silesia and vaiued them 

for his cabinet, for more than once orders 

were issued to provincid governors for any 

vessels discovered in the eround to be sent to 

enrich tle imperial colleitions in Prague; in 

1577 he even initiated excavations ar 

Gryzyce with the purpose of expanding his 

collections and is said to have taken a hand 

in lifting the urns himsell? That enlightened 

collector Augustus of Saxony correcdy identified 

some urns which had been sent to him 

and olaced them in his Kunsthatnmer at 

DresJen as early as 1578. 

Vhile vessels of Roman and later of 

Greek origin came to be collected specifically 

as represenratives of the civilisations 

that produced them, much of the appeal 

of these early pieces clearly lay not in the 

realm of antiquarianism but in the very 

uncertainry surrounding rheir origins, a 

feature that increased their desirability rather 

than compromising it. 

A similar ambiguiry - a qualiq, on which 

much positive value was placed in the 

Baroque period - surrounded a second 

category of antiquities in whose identification 

Ole Worm was involved, although 

not in this instance to useful effect. Some 

local finds of stone implements, in which 

Denmark is pre-eminently rich, found their 

way into Vorm's museum and despite the 

objective reasoning he applied to them as to 

all the material he studied, they evidently 

presented insurmountable difficulties of 

interpretation. His discourse on these items 

identifies them by the name of'ceraunia', 

coined because rhey were thought ro originate 

in flashes of lightning:' 

They have various shapes, sometimes conical, sometimes 

hammer- or axe-shaped, and with a hole in 

ANTIQUARI,{.N ATTI.TUDES 

the middle. Theit origin is disputed; some deny 

they are meteorites, supposing from their resem- 

blance to iron tools that rhey are really such tools 

cransformed into stones. On rhe orher hand, reliable 

witnesses stare that they have observed these 

stones on the precise spot ... wherc lightning had 

struck,..' 

Two generations earlier, Michele Mercati, 

curator of the Vatican collections, had 

established at least elements of the truth 

in his Metallotbeca, written in 1574, but 

since this important work remained unpublished 

until 1719, it failed to make the 

impact it deserved.'o Hence in 17 37 the 

invintory of the Royal Danish Kunst 

kammer (which absorbed Vorm's collection) 

still listed among rhe contents of the 

'Chamber of Natural Productions' (rather 

than the neighbouring 'Chamber of 

Antiquities')'Twenty-three stone knives 

or small ceraunia', 'eleven cerauniae of 

various sizes, with holes', and'Nine larger 

... without holes' - all seemingly acknowledging 

the possibility of human production 

but ultimately consigned with the 

fossils, 'eagle stones', and flints shaped 

like birds'beaks or human ears." 

Nor was Denmark noticeably backward 

in this respect. The catalogue of the 

'Repository' of the Royal Society in 

London, published in 1681, likewise 

eouated flint arrowheads and blades with 

natural crystals and other 'regular stones' 

in the collection, and while certain antiquaries 

such as Sir \Tilliam Dugdale and 

Robert PIot were already clear in their 

identification of stone axes as man-made 

objects, Sir Hans Sloane, whose collection 

was to form the foundation of the British 

Museum at his death in 1753, alludes to 

the survival of some doubt well inro the

10 

ARTHUR MAcGREGoR 

eighteenth century: thus in his own cataloeue 

he could add to his confident description 

of 'Ar ancient gray stone hatchet 

fwith] notches to be fixed to its handle' 

the information that such items were yet 

'called by some thundel stones', and, could 

record elsewhere 'An lrish hatchet made of 

green spleen stone found after a shoure & 

thunder by a ditcher who thought it 

hott'." Ultimately it was the accumulation 

in various museums of ethnographic 

material from the New World that orovided 

incontrovertible evidence: Ploi, the 

first keeoer of the Ashmolean Museum at 

Oxford, supported his identification of 

stone axes with the statement that 'how 

they may be fastened to a helae, may be 

seen in the Musaeum Ashmobanum where 

are several Indian ones of the like kind'.'' 

while his depury Edward Lhwyd, similarly 

disposed of the 'elf arrows' he had 

encountered in the Scottish highlands by 

demonstrating that 'they are just the same 

chip'd flints the Natives of New Enghnd 

head their Arrows with at this Dav'. 

adding that'there are also several Stone 

Hatchets found in this Kingdom, not 

unlike those of the Americans'.'o Shortly 

afterwards we find the same sort of comparisons 

being made by Kilian Stobaeus, 

professor of natural history at the 

University of Lund, when, in 1738, he 

published an article asserting the manmade 

origins of flint tools and drawing his 

proofs from comoarisons with American 

flints in the Iioyal Kunsthammer at 

Copenhagen.'5 At this point the museum 

collections which had provided safe repositories 

for material which at the time of 

discovery was little understood began to 

perform one of the prime functions which 

they continue to provide today, in allo- 

wing new understanding to emerge from 

detailed comoarisons of constituent elements 

of the existins collections. A similar 

fate overtook other-material in these collections 

during the seventeenth century 

when exhibits such as unicorn horns came 

to be related to marine mammals rather 

than mythical quadrupeds (a process in 

which S?orm again had a hand), and 

petrified'serpents' tongues' or'glossopetrae'lost 

their amuletic appeal when they 

were accurately identified as fossilized 

teerh of shark-like fish. Vhar seems curious 

from our perspective is that the true 

nature ofsuch items took so long to achieve 

general recognition after the correct identification 

had first been made: to some 

degree the role of the museum as a recreational 

device, designed to encourage speculation 

rather than to provide answers 

for precisely framed questions, must have 

actiyely prolonged the retention of alternative 

interoretations in the face of the 

pedantic puisuit of truth. 

ANTIQUITY BEFORE AND 

DURING THE ENLIGHTENMENT 

Roman antiquities formed absolutely standard 

components of museums throughout 

rhe earlier phases of collecting. It is easy 

for us tacitly to assume that such material 

must necessarily have been desirable and 

hence in some sense inherently collectable 

, but while some Dieces did find an 

appreciative audience during the medieval 

period, a striking reminder of the contempt 

in which (pagan) Roman material 

could be held at that time is provided by 

the marble Venus Victrix found in the 

cemetery of St. Matthias at Tlier and set 

up so that pilgrims could gain added

merit by rhrowing srones ar it.'o In the 

more enlightened milieu of the Renaissance 

collecror, funerary and orher inscriptions 

as well as sculprure proued open io 

easy interpretation by those with a modicum 

of Iearning; military monumcnts - particularly 

prolific in norrhern Europe - gained 

a dramatic impulse from the insights 

provided by 'lacitus' Germania, the text of 

which was discovered in 1455 and oublished 

in Niirn-berg in 1473. Coins proved 

even more useful and valuable, supplying 

literary historical and personal emblems to 

complement whatever degree of classical 

scholarship the collector might have acqurre€t. 

In princely circles, these commodities 

took on an added meanine. The Habsburg 

princes and their ne-ighbours, for 

example, took a parricular interest in the 

dynasric inrerrelarionships of rheir imperial 

forefathers (as they saw them) and iook 

a special delight in representations of the 

Roman emperors, whether as busts or fulllength 

statues, as coins or as the medallions 

and plaquettes which came to be 

manufactured specifically for the collector's 

market. Maximilian I of Austria (d. 

1519) forms an early example of a collector 

who developed a speciaJ interesr in 

Roman coins and inscriptions, stemming 

from his genealogical preoccupations,rT 

and although Maximilian himself never 

promoted excavations, he took care to 

have finds sent from all corners of his 

emoire.'t 

Albrecht V of Bavaria (1500-/9) developed 

the concept of the collection as an 

instrumenr o[ dynastic legirimarion ro its 

ulrimare form in his Antiquarium ar 

Munich. In this purpose-built vaulted 

chamber in the ducal residence, some 200 

ANTIQUARIAN ATTITU D Es 

busts ofAntique and orher rulers, many of 

them clumsy fakes or copies but all firmly 

labelled wiih their preiended identitiei, 

fulfilled rheir allotted role of demonsrrating 

the lineage from which the duke drew 

his hereditary authority and his personal 

virtus.'" Authenticiry of rhe individual pieces 

was clearly of secondary interest in this 

highly symbolic context ;here the individual 

image could contribure irs meaning 

irrespective of - or rather in spite of - what 

might have been a questionable pedigree. 

Under rhis heighrened level of anriquarian 

consciousness certain classes of antiouities, 

at least, enjoyed increasing appreciation 

from a wider social spectrumlWe hear, fo, 

example, of a collection of Roman inscriptions 

from Salzburg builr up by 1520 by 

Johannes Thurnmayer-Aventinus and of a 

similar collection later formed by Hieronymous 

Beck of Leopoldsdorf, installed as a 

lapidarium at Schloss Ebreichsdorf near 

Vienna.'" 

At the same time as the Austrians besan 

to take an antiquarian interest in sires 

such as Carnuntum on the Danube, the 

remains of the Roman settlement at Ausst 

near Basel were receiving arrenrion fr;m 

the Swiss collector Basili-us Amerbach (d. 

1591): a ground-plan and several views of 

the theatre there, executed on his behalf, 

still survive in the university library at 

Basel, while such finds as were made were 

absorbed inro his cabinet of several thousand 

items of all sorrs - a collection, incidentally, 

which was bought after his death 

by the city council and placed on publicly-accessible 

display ar rhe universiry in 

t66r." 

1-hroughour rhc period under review. 

coins and medals enjoyed a much wider 

populariry rhan other classes of anriquities 

11

t2 

ARTH U R MAcGRfGoR 

as collectable items, y€t the history of coin 

collecting remains to be written. Their 

appeal ;s almost universal, fulfilling at 

once the needs of the impecunious collector 

of modest ambition and the orincelv 

virtuoso whose collection might fiil many 

cabinets with valuable pieces and which 

might even merit the attentions of a scholarly 

curator. r*/hen John Ray visited rhe 

Elector Karl Ludwig's collection in Heidelberg 

in 1663, for example, he found there 

'an excellent collection of ancient and 

modern coins and medals in which the 

Prince himself is very knowing'. Karl Ludwig's 

librarian, l,orenz Beger, was placed in 

charge ofthe collection and in 1685 produced 

an account of it entitled Thesaaras 

Palatinus. In the following year he accompanied 

the collecrion ro Berlin when it was 

inherited by Friedrich rVilhelm, Elector of 

Brandenburg (1620-88) and in 1693 gained 

overall charge ofthe electoral colections." 

As well as coins and medals (numbering 

over 22,000 by the end of the seventeenth 

century) the Brandenburg Aniquititenhammer 

was well endowed wirh anLiouities, 

some of which are of particutar inrerest 

since rhey represent thi fruits of deliberate 

archaeological investigations in the 

province of Kleve in the lower Rheinland, 

the properry of Brandenburg since 1614:', 

many of these were added by Christian 

von Heimbach, appoinred official Antiquarius 

by the Elector in 1663, who apparently 

carried our excavations in Kleve 

thereafter in order to augment the collection.'o 

Other elements were acouired bv 

purchase, as when rhe Elecror bought the 

entire collections of his minister Erasmus 

Seidel in 1642 and, of Hans Ewich of 

Xanten in 1680." On the evidence of 

Ewich, we know in addition that larse 

numbers of Roman Iamps and vessels were 

sent to the Elector from Xanten, some of 

them drawn by Ewich himself. Lamps 

such as these formed ideal collectors'pieces, 

being attractive and portable, and in 

their iconography providing the basis for 

much philosophical speculation.'zo 

Local antiquiries also began to be treasured 

and collected more widely, although at 

this period such ventures were still unusual. 

The extensive urnfields of northern 

Central Europe were parricularly productive: 

from the early years of the eighteenth 

century, for example, Leonhard David 

Hermann in Poland had disolaved his colleccion 

of Silesian urns and orher anticuities 

in a specially designed cabinet labe ed 

Mausoleum but described elsewhere with 

more appropriateness as a shrine.'?7 Such a 

cabinet - either the same one with its 

decoration modified since Hermann described 

it or a closely similar one which 

had also been made for him - was published 

in rhe 1930s by Stemmermann (see 

Figs. 1-2), together with a detailed analysis 

of its painted iconography.'3 This cab! 

net (which was then in the Breslau museum) 

must undoubtedly be counted as one 

of the most important museologica.l monumen$ 

ot rts age. 

In Poland the interest of Kins Stanislaw 

. ,Y 

Augustus (1764-95) in anriquities led him 

and in turn his courtiers to carry out excavations 

and as early as 1786 olans were 

drawn up for a sysiematic pro!r"rn-. of 

excavations and for the founding ofa national 

museum to house them, dut nothing 

came of it.'' Neither was rhere by ant 

means a univelsal appreciation of the antiquarian 

value of excavated material: Karel 

Sklend tells us of a Furstenberg prince, for 

example, on whose estate in Bohemia a

a. o, c. 

Fig 2. L.D. Hermann's pyranidal cabinet: a,font; b, right side; c,bael.d, lzf side. 

Afer Stennermann 1934. 

huge hoard of several thousand Celtic 

gold coins was found in 1771, and who, 

despite holding office as the firsr chairman 

of the national scientific society of his 

country, had nearly all of them melted 

down and reminted wirh his own oorrrait 

on them.'o 

By now the earliest artempts ar classification 

and comDarison between different 

collections *.r. b.ing made, bur as yet 

the establishment of any sort of chronology 

remained beyond the grasp of researchers. 

Up to this poinr the collectors had 

all their own way, no thought being spared 

for any wider significance rhat artefacts 

might haye as elements in a system of 

evidence incorporating the parent monument 

itself. By the early eighteenth century, 

however, we find A.A. Rhode in 

Germany castigating those who destroyed 

whole barrows down ro their foundations, 

'grubbing like swine' for collectable 

items,r' and a generarion later in England 

James Douglas (1753-1819), excavator, 

pr€server and careful publisher of extensive 

cemeteries of the Anglo-Saxon period 

in Kent, deplored those who 'hoard up 

antique relics as children collecr gegaws' 

['roys']: 'These philistines', he suggested, 

'often expose the more reflecting anriquary 

whose only view in collecting [antiquitiesl 

is to throw light upon history or place 

some doubtful custom of an antient 

people in a more accurate point of light, 

to the pleasantry of his friends, and the 

ridicule of the unlettered oart of the 

wofto . ' 

In Scandinavia, meanwhile, a chapter in 

this history was about ro unfold in-which 

museum coilections werc to make their 

single most important conrribution to the 

advance of archaeological theory. On 22 

May 1807 the Crown Prince of Denmark 

signed the instrumenrs establishing a new 

national museum of antiquities. Among 

its declared aims were that it should 

'...house all the archaeological objects to 

be found within His Majesty's domains,

t4 

ARTHUR MAcGREGoR 

in so far as they already form part of the 

Royal collections or in the course of time 

might be incorporated into them...', and 

further that'It must then be considered 

how this museum could then be run for 

the benefit of the general public.'33 

The decision to found a state museum 

of antiquities, an important development 

in its own right, was rendered that much 

more valuable by the appointment of 

Christian Jiirgensen Thomsen as its 

(unpaid) secretary. Vithin a year of his 

appointment to rhe posr, Thomsen had 

not only catalogued a large part of the collection 

with meticulous care, but had laid 

the foundations of a system of caregorization 

that was not only to serve the 

museum well but which was to form rhe 

basis of a comprehensive framework applicable 

to prehistoric societies in the broadest 

sense. The 'Three Age' system which 

Thomsen evolved has been called 'rhe firsr 

paradigm in archaeology', and its importance 

in the history of the subjecr can 

hardly be oversta.ed.sa Although he makes 

no special reference to it, the three principal 

phases of Thomsen's system, which he 

defines partly on material and partly on 

technological criteria, represent in effect 

an historical sequence which was to form 

the accepted basis not only for the display 

of the past but for its archaeological interpretation 

for generations to come. What is 

perhaps more remarkable is that he elucidated 

it on rhe basis of observed characteristics, 

without the benefit of previouslypublished 

comparatiye data and without 

assistance from stratigraphic sequences of 

objects owing to the lack of recorded 

information and to the facr that the bulk 

of his collection was made of stray finds. 

The prime requirement of this new scien- 

ce was, in his own words, 'a pair of sharp 

eyes'. In 1836 these ideas, which had been 

raking form in his mind for over a decade, 

were published in a Guide Booh for Northen 

Antiqaitt, in which the field monuments 

of Denmark were also related to the 

artefacts in the collection." 

ANTI QUIT-Y NATI O NALISM 

AND THE ROMANTIC PERIOD 

By this time, important developments had 

taken place which both expanded the 

number of antiquarian museums and 

enlarged the influence they were to have 

on society at large. Throughout the 

European continent a potent influence 

was at work in the form of the Romantic 

movement which promoted many of the 

heroic concepts around which national 

ideals were to crystallize. In Scandinavia, 

for example, where the sagas provided a 

ready-made reservoir on which the 

Romantics drew heavily for inspiration, 

field monuments, runic slabs and orher 

antiquities were mobilized to the same 

ends, with the result rhar museums regained 

somerhing of their original statui as 

'temples of the muses', though now 

acknowledging a Nordic rather than a 

classical oantheon. 

They were also drawn into contemporary 

politics in a manner not experienced 

before or since. Thomsen, whose crucial 

work in the Copenhagen museum has 

already been mentioned, arrracted considerable 

criticism when in the 1830s he 

encouraged the setting up of a museum at 

Kiel in Schleswig-Holstein, at that dm€ 

still attached to the Danish crown. r Many 

of Thomsen's compatriots were bitterly 

opposed to his plan to send part of rhe

Copenhagen collection - their national 

patrimony - to Kiel while many Germans 

saw rhe moue as merely another instance 

of Danish cultural imperialism. The Three 

Age system, although it had already begun 

to find adherents in Germany even before 

Thomsen publkhed his influential work, 

became identified in some eyes specifically 

with Nordic influence and certain German 

workers who accepted its precepts too readily 

found themselves vilified by their more 

militantly nationalist colleagues. Thomsen's 

motives with respect to the Schleswig 

museum were completely altruistic, however: 

'we may lose ten pieces a year', he 

wrote to a colleague, 'but on the other 

hand a hundred will be saved to scholarship 

which would previously have been 

unknown to us'. Thomsen's successor, J.J.A. 

\7orsaae, another of the really great figures 

in the history of Scandinavian archaeology, 

was even more consciously influenced 

by the Romantic movement: 'The 

remains of antiquiry', he wrote, 'bind us 

more firmly to our native land'. He continued: 

thcy constantly recall to our rccollection, that our 

forefarhen liucd in rhis country, from timc immemorial, 

a free and indcpcndent pcople, and so call 

on us to defcnd our tcrritories with energy, that no 

foreigner may ever rule over thar soil, which contains 

the bones of our anccstors, and with which 

our most sacrcd and rcverential recollections are 

Elsewhere he expanded on this theme:'A 

nation which respects itself and its independence 

cannot possibly rest satisfied 

with the consideration of its present sltuation 

alone. It must of necessity direct its 

attention to bygone times ,,. so as to 

ANTI QUARIAN_ A l l l'tUDES 

ascertain by what means it has arived at 

its oresent character and condition.'3' 

In Germany a growing feeling of identi 

ty with the concept of Fatherland was 

given full expression following the defeat 

of Napoleon and withdrawal of the occupying 

French forces. In many of the small 

states that characterized then the German 

republic of today, so-called tnterliinditche 

Museen were founded with specific programmes 

aimed at establishing the special 

characteristics of each princedom in terms 

of its history and archaeology as well as its 

natural resources, An unorecedented identity 

of purpose grew up between the aims 

of the state and the interests of the antiquaries, 

who frequendy found themselves 

housed in purpose-built premises that 

oroclaimed the imoortance attached to 

iheir functions. 

'What was perhaps more important was 

that the interest they represented was now 

distributed on a wide social soecrrum rn 

which the influential middle classes were 

particularly prominent. It was they who 

fuelled rhe Iirerary and arrisric dimensions 

of the Romanric movemenr whose interrelationshios 

with historical themes meanr 

that topics of antiquarian interest were 

among the common currency of the genre. 

The social impact of archaeology has 

never been more dramatically direct. 

Under the impetus of influential figures 

such as Goethe, who was among the sponsors 

of the first archaeological and historical 

society in Germany, founded in Bonn 

in 1814, so enthusiastically was the movement 

taken up 'to nurture love for our 

common Fatherland and for the memory 

of our great forbears' that by the early 

I 850s virtually every major town had one. 

In a way there was a price to pay for this 

r5

A RTHUR MACGREcoR 

16 duplication of e{fort in so many centres, 

because it was not until the middle of the 

century that the founding of a United 

Sociery of German Historical and Antiquarian 

Societies led to the establishment 

of -..r..lm, 

encompassing the national 

aspirations of all of these peoples in the 

forrn of the Germanisches National 

nzuseurn in Niirnberg and, the Ri;rnisch- 

Germanisches Museum in Mainz.Je 

Just as museums and the study ofthe past 

in general could perform a valuable political 

role in this way, in the wrong hands (in the 

state's yiew, that is) they could be seen as 

powerful and even dangerous centres for 

subversive influence. This was Darricularlv 

the case in the easrernmosr orovinces of the 

Habsburg empire where Magyar narionalism 

led to the foundation in Budaoest of 

the Narional Museum in 18l L verv much 

in the teeth of opposition fiom the central 

authorities in Vienna. Elsewhere in 

Hungary a Museum was founded at Martin 

in 1863 to serve a similar purpose for the 

Slovak communiry bur irraims ran conrrary 

to the Hungarian government's plans for 

the Magyarization of Slovakia and they had 

it shut down within tlvelve years as a Dorentially 

dangerous insrirurion. Even within 

Austria itself there was official alarm at the 

potentia.l threat to the integriry of the empire 

represented by the German nationalist 

movement 

And finally I should mention the establishment 

in Prazue of the Czech National 

Museum, *hose sponsors were the very 

same personalities who led the movemenr 

that established the character and course of 

Czech nationalism. Though originally biased 

in the direction of natural sciences, 

archaeology played an increasingly important 

role here and formed an indeoendent 

department from the 1840s. By 1843 J.E. 

Vocel had formulated his concept of a 

'Czech national archaeolog;r'.ao 

It is not inappropriate to bring this very 

incomplete survey to a close at this point. 

The Habsburgs, more than any other noble 

family had been responsible for the introduction 

of the museum as a conceDt into 

Europe norrh of the Alps; here in Prague in 

1818, the spiritual successor to the Austrian 

Imperial cabinet achieved an independence 

that symbolized not only the political unchaining 

of the Slavs but also the freeing of 

the museum to shoulder the tasls we still 

expect of it today, nor only to preserve the 

past but to foster understanding of it and 

above all to make it relevant. 

A primary aim of 'Museum Europa', as 

declared in its prospectus, has been to 

demonstrate how 'Europe as an idea and 

concept was conceived and ..- developed 

parallel to the Museum'. The point is well 

worrh making, lor a necessary prerequisite 

for the evolution of a common identity 

was undoubtedly the establishment by the 

member states of their individual identities, 

both cultural and political; few insti 

tutions have played so valuable a role in 

this process as the museum, which not 

only held up to the public the mirror of 

their own past but which invented the 

very language by which it could be comorehended. 

Arthur MacGregor leder Department of Antiquitics 

uid Ashmohan M*eam, Oxfotd., Han itr en au redah- 

tbrena du Joumal of the History of Collections, som 

barjade utges ar Oxford Unitersity Press 1989. 

Adr: 30 Sutberland Auenue, Maidt Vale, London W9 

2HQ England.

NOTES AND REFERENCES 

l. k is now well reognized that the term 'museum' compre- 

hended a wi€ry of consrucr ofwhich the idea of a literary 

compilarion ofEctual maaer la at least as widely understo- 

od as thar ofa physical coliection ofobjecs: sce Paula 

Findl€n, 'The museum: ics dassica.l etymology and 

R€naicsanc senealos.', /a uma.l ofthe H*tor1 of&lbaiow I 

no. 1 i1989), pp. 59-78. 

2. So widepread wrs acceptance ofthis &te dnt it was added 

ar a nurgirul glo's m e n.r edition of tne Authorized 

Version of rhe Bible published h Englard in 1701. 

3 P.H. Stemmermm, Dn Arfr"ge la den'chn 

Vo,smhi.hbfr6cb*ns(qnkenbriicl i Hann, 1934), pp. 67- 

8; K Jazdzcwski, Polard Q-ondon, 1965), p. 13; L Frana 

Au der Gactrichte der Ur- ud Fdiigesddchdicl'en 

Bodcnforschug in Oseneich', in L Fr:m od A.R 

N€umann (eJs.), Iat ,z '/ tndfi l,s&hihtli.t.r 

tunhnitt Ast 'ri.lr (netu4 1965), p. 2l l All ofthe 

atrove glore Ae Hi'toia Pobniac of ln Dlrycsa. 

Archbishop of lrnbers ( 1415,I 8). 

4. The alicst edition ofthis work thar I have been able to con- 

sulr is dar of 157r, endded hr?a dzinn 'on aAdbt 

ArlSzu'ri... (Niimb€rg)i s€e panicuiarly Predigr. XV. The 

parsage quoted h translation hae is ftom Kerel Sklenrr, 

Arehazobp in Cntral E*rupe. Thefnt 5oo yrars (l*iczsrcr, 

1983),p.36. 

5. Petrus Nbims, Me*snichm l^2tu/- axd Bery-Anniha 

(Dresden, I58r)-e0r. pin ll. p. I-8. Albin6 mendons a 

widesprad beliefamong the p€amnts thar rh€w po6 wre 

ftesbly made by dwr6, r*ro abandoned them undeground. 

6. Aftlough their true mue was firs published in tne sincenth 

cenruly, for o'ample by Agri :ola n his Dc naura fosilhnof 

I 546, 6aal aaeptane of drcir nran-mde $atus *x not to 

cornc for anodrr 30o rers, H.l.Eg{xs (E;6jh''"s in & 

Vorynhi|* (Murkh, 1959), pp. 256) mentiorx that ums 

werc lan published as nanml phoomern r late as 1816. 

7. H.Kthn, Db C,achiebtz do uoryachihBfo,i&xng (BeAin, 

1970, p. 18. Sremmerrnm (1934), p- 69) rs,rds dlar 

Rudolf trad a woodo column ecred on the spoc ro ommemoEre 

rhe occsion . Da\ mLe Denkmal fiir 

Altcmrmsfundc'. 

ANTIQUARIAN ATTTTUDES 

8. Greek a thunderbolt. fie identification ofstone ryes as 

'thundcrsrones' was eviderdy ofsome mtiquitp Eggen 

( 1959, p. 25) mcntions drat thmughout the medie%l p€riod 

they had bccn aeemed as a prcrection aganr* Ightning aad 

werc, on occrdon, mouft€d as amuleq the Ernperor Henry 

IV receivcd one as a gift in 1081, moLrnted in gold. In rtre 

mid-nineteenth ccntury there were srill some in Ireland who 

clung to the 'r,ulgar opinion' tiat stone axes mre formed in 

thunderbol$: s€€ Drnlnw Ca,alog"e oftk Alf'dbn of 

A,niqaiti.' ... illu'ratiry ofl^h Hirary, *hikted at tbe 

Mrcatn, Bcfa, on tle oaarion of the arntyeond ruaixg 

oftk BA,/[S, V,rnber 1852 (BelGsr, 1852), appadix. 

9. O. Kindt-Jenet, A Hi*oty ofscandi%,t'n Afthzeo@ 

(London, r975't, p. 23. 

10. Scc Mbhck Maccn laminiaan'i' Metull'thtu' (Rone, 

t7 t9), p. 243. 

ll. B. Gundest p, Da Lngdigc dawb' K'n'*anw tZ37/ 

TIr fual Danbh K*nkaanct 1737(Q>pe nsa, t99r), 

vol. I, pp. 1368. 

12. See A. MacGregor, 'Prchjsoric and Rornano-British anti- 

guitics' , in Sir Hau Sloanc ... Founding Father ofthc Bntnh 

Mwcun, ed. A. Mx

ARTHUR MACGREGOR 

18 Andkenmnseum Mijnchers',in Gllputuk M tnln 1830' 

1980, ed- K Vicmeid aad G. llinz (Munich' 1980), Pp. 

3to-2t. 

20. Kiihn (1976, p. 16) mcntions an carlicr coll€ctior of 

inrriptiorx built up by Sigismund Mastalin (dicd 1489). 

2l . H.C. Ackermann, 'The Baslc cabines ofan and o[ioeities 

in drc si:oeenth and sevcntecn dr ealluuic' , n Tk Origr^t of 

Mwou, eA. O.rmyy and,c" Maccrcgor (Oxfo!d' 1985)' 

p.64- 

22. G. Hcrcs, 'Die Anninge der Bedincr Antikcn-Samn ung: 

znr Gac,hichrc der Antikenkabii

EN vAnLD AV UNDER 

Gunnar Broberg 

NoRDrsK MusEoLocr 7993.2, s. 19,27 

En gdng ais*e mdnnishan att firundras. Hon htipnad.e och beandrade shapelsen, hon 

fann dolda gudomliga budshap i naturen, som hompletterade den biblhha uppenbarehen. 

Naturen uar mdhlinda fallen men uittnade lihafulb om en udluillig shapargud. 

En del au dexa exponerades i dz gamla huriosahabinetten som skaittes au dem som 

uisade "cura", eller brydde sig om shapelsens ndngfald. Att uara "huriijs", ett ord som 

tappdt i status, innebar att aara bdde dygdig och lArd. Detfdr*a suensha uetenshapli- 

ga samfundet, grundat pestens dr l7I0 i Uppsala, halkdes Collegium curiosorum. 

Kuriosakabinettens ursprung gir it olika 

hill. I kyrkorna visades under medeltiden 

"jitteben" (egentligen nigon kota av 

nigon strandad val); mer eller mindre 

planmlssigt byggdes universitetsbiblioteken 

och privata samlingar upp av mdrkviirdigheter 

som visade skapelsens mingfald 

eller dess "essens". Eftersom inte allt 

kunde visas ville man ge ert representativt 

urval. Ingen undgick att lasa in itminstone 

nigon religii;s innebdrd: se mingfalden, 

skijnheten, Guds fingerf:irdighet, 

naturens sammanhang och symbolv?irde! 

Samlingarna kniits ocksi girna till de 

botaniska trldgirdarna, som under 15och 

1600-talen uwecklades till universiretens 

tyngsta utgiftsposter. I dem fanns 

Ievande livet, ibland ocksi i form av ett 

litet menageri. Varlden fanns inom rickhlll, 

till allmnn beskidan och fiirundran. 

I Sverige iigde t ex Olof Rudbeck i 

Uppsala sidana samlingar. Hans arbetsrum 

Slldes inte bara av biicker utan av 

uppstoppade djur, siirskilt flglar frin 

Lappland, av herbarieark, mineralprover, 

och av det enorma botaniska olanschverket 

Campus Elysii som han aldrig slutgiltigt 

lyckades ge ut. Dartill olika uppfinningar, 

tekniska leksaker, en klocka som 

visade tiden ocksi om natten, anatomiska 

preparat, en hjirna hird som sten, blodidror 

frllda med kvickilver, karror. Arskilligr, 

men inte allt ftirstdrdes i den stora branden 

i Uppsala 1702. Det lir med hjdlp av Johan 

Eenbergs skildring av katasrofen (1703), 

som vi kan titta in i det rubeclaka kuriosakabinettet. 

Vi talar inte om museer i dess moderna 

berydelse. "Museum" betydde vid den 

tiden girna "arbetsrum". "Scribam in 

Museo mea" - jag har skrivir derta i mitr 

arbetsrum" - stir det ofta som avslutningsfras 

i de gamla lirdes brev. Si anvlnds 

ordet ocksi i i Comenius Orbis sensualium 

pictas (1658), den mest spridda av barockens 

lerobiicker och en alltid lika qivande 

encyklopedi 6ver perioden: "M.,se-r.lm esr 

Iocus ubi studiosus, secretis ab hominibus

20 

GUNNAR BRoBERG 

solus sedet. studiis deditus. dum lectitat 

libros." Museet ir den olats der studenten 

sitter ensam, avskild fiin andra mlnniskoa 

fordjupad i studier medan han leser 

biicker. Definitionen markerar det privata 

san n ingsstikandet, om man si vill den tidiga 

vetenskapen, och inte museet som en publik 

inrdttning ddr vem som helst besklda 

samlingarna, 

NATUMLHISTORIEN 

OCH SAMLANDET 

Det ?ir pi 1700-talet, som det naturalhistoriska 

museet tar form och vars fdrutsiittningar 

vi fol.jer. Samlandet och ordnandet 

blev en mani och sitt eget mil. Overallt i 

Sverige, frin kungaparet Adolf Fredrik och 

Lovisa Ulrika till den enkle lantpriisten 

ignade man sig it ett intensivt studium av 

insekter och tirter, vilket Yngve Ldwegren 

visade i en omlanande inventering. Den 

religiiisa reroriken fanns ofra urralfu men 

kunde fiirlora sitt inehill. Man kan {t 

intrycket att der var samlandet som sedant 

och inte det insamlade som veckte beundran, 

alltsi det minskliea insatsen snarare 

dn den gudomliga. Pehi Kalm t ex beskriver 

i den andan med obeerdnsad beundran 

Sir Hans Sloanes samling-ar i London (som 

skulle bli kirnan i British Museum). I 

motsyatande sekularissrad anda skulle 

Kalm som den fiirste yetenskaDsmannen 

beskriva Niagara utan att tala om vad han 

sig som ett underverk utan i stiillet fundera 

tiver mltteknik och eventuell nytta. Vid 

mitten av 1700-talet hade De det her sener 

fiirestillningen om en vdrld av under urmanars 

av fiirhoppningen om en vdrld av nyttor. 

Naturalhistorien holl pi aft befria sig 

frin teologin, med ftirskjutningar i samlandets 

idd som ftilid. 

Ideolog for den Homo collzctor sidzn vi 

finner honom (ibland henne) under 1700talet 

var Carl von Linnd. Jag vill piminna 

om den linneanska vetenskaoens kdnnetecken. 

Den sy4tade till en toial tdckning 

av naturen, den skulle ordnas hierarkiskt 

och namnges. Naturen, si slg Linni den, 

var stabil och fiirhillandevis harmonisk. 

Han inspirerades g?irna till fysikoteologisk 

retorik. Gud hade inrittat de tre narurens 

riken si att det ena stiidde det andra, och 

inom naturrikena lanes den linneanska 

hierarkin (klasser, ordriingar, slekten och 

arter) balans€rad€ det ena det andra. Si 

uppfattade han livet ut skapelsen som ftirnuftigt 

uppbyggd. Men Linn€ indrade sig 

si att disharmoniska inslag gavs mer plats 

och si att det inom de ldgre enheterna 

pigick ftiriindringar. Den gamle mannen 

radikaliserades och accepterade faktiskt 

tanken pe att nya arter uppstir. Att allt 

ytterst vilade pi en skapare var frin borjan 

sjiilvklart, men med tiden byttes den individuella 

skaparhanden ut mor en mer 

abstrakt skaoarolan. 

I en sidan fbrnuftig skapelse gavs inte 

plats fiir det ofdrnuftiga. En av de bedrifter 

Linnd sdrskilt berijmde sig fiir, var att 

ha avsltijat "hydran i Hamburg", det 

minghi;vdade falsarium sammanstillt av 

olika djurdelar som vunnit iskidare och 

forskningens tilltro tills den unge svensken 

pi sin utlandsresa enkelt kunde visa 

att sidana djur bara inte fanns. I de fdrsta 

upplagorna av Systcma naturue intogs en 

avdelning kallad "Paradoxa" eller ickedjur, 

som svor mot naturens enkla fiirnuftiga 

lagar och inte kunde placeras nigonstans 

i systeme.. Dlr fanns grod-fisken, 

enhtirningen, satyren, Barometz eller det 

skytiska lammet, flgel Fenix osv, en pirroresk 

blandning hemmahtirande i det gam-

la kuriosakabinetter, men som nu utvisades 

ur vetenskapen. Inte alldeles entydigt 

visserligen, Linni hade personligen ockii 

en godtrogen sida, men hans inflytande 

ledde till art ogreset rensades ur ikern. 

Hela tiden ny kunskap som rubbade 

mtinstren. Det arbete som skulle samla upp 

alf ny informarion, Systcma naturae, urgavs 

ftirsta gingen 1735 och di bara pi ett dussin 

sidor Den sista upplagan utkom 1766- 

68 och omfarrade 2J00 sidor. Denna iiieonfailande 


bert itskilligt i ftirordet om systematisk 

kunskap och visserligen ingir den stitliga 

planschen iiver kunskapernas sammanhang 

och klassificering i form av ett trdd, 

men sidlva texten lvder bara alfabetets ordning. 

'Den ar heli tillliillig medan LinnC 

sijker en evig indelning enligt "naturen" 

eller i iivere nsstimmelse med skapelsen. I 

Encyklopedin fir biet en annan plats vid 

dversettning till tyska, rnen i Systerna natarae 

behiller det sin placering oavsett sprik 

och - si var fiirhoppningen - oavsett tid. 

Ordning hdnger ocksi samman med 

antal. "Tot numeramus ouot in initio 

Deus creavit" - vi r?iknar i dag lika minga 

arter som Gud skapade i begynnelsen - 

skriver Linnd i en fundamentalsats i Systema 

naturae. Nigot helt annat skriver 

Diderot i artikeln "Encyclopedie" (1755) i 

den stora franska encyklopedien: "Universum 

uppvisar ftir oss blott enskilda ting, 

odndliga till antaler och med ndstar ingen 

klar eller bestimd delning mellan sig. 

Inget av dem kan kallas den ftirsta eller 

den sista; allt dr fiirbundet med allt annat 

genom omdrkliga grader." Avslutningen 

anknyter till den populara fiirestillningen 

om naturens stora kedja. 

Diderot insisterar pi vdrdet i det oregelbundna: 

"Formeringen av en encyklopedi 

liknar byggandet av en stor stad." Han 

jiimftir encyklopedisk ordning med en 

maskin, delarna passar ihop men kan ocksl 

byggas ihop pi ett helt nyrr sdrt. 

Snarare in att utgdra en organiserad helhet 

av all miinsklig kunskap borde 

Encyklopedin med sina korsreferenser 

utgiira en "dppen konversarion mellan 

medlemmarna i vetenskapssamhlllet". Ett 

samtal - si olinneanskt! Skaparguden hade 

ingen att prata med. Om vi ska stdlla dem 

emot varandta si ftirordar Diderot, som 

inte ska uppfattas som typisk fdr nigon 

mer in sig sjdlv, en dynamisk naturuppfattning, 

medan LinnC fdresprikar en stabil. 

Betydelsen av Encyklopedins alfabetiska 

uppstallning kan litt ftirbises, men som en 

fransk forskare uttryckt det: "Som taxonomins 

nollgrad tilliter alfabetisk ordning 

alla sitt att ldsa; i si mltto kan den uppfattas 

som Upplysningens emblem." 

(Charles Porset) Man syftade till information 

och inte kunskap eller bildning. Den 

gamla encyklopedins dagar var dver, ocksi 

Encyclopedia brittanica (1768) fiiljde en 

alfabetisk uppstellning. I bdrjan av nlsta 

irhundrade kom det popuhra Konvetsationslexikonet, 

Brockhausfirmans lyckokast. 

Men akademiker fnyste it nymodigheterna, 

de ville ha ordning och system. 

NATURENS GRANSLOSHET 

Beslaktat med ordningens problem finns 

frigan om naturens omflng. Vi kan borja 

med John Ray. Den viktige engelske naturalhistorikern 

inleder sitt mycket spridda 

xbete The wisdom of God manife*ed in the 

world of cleation (1691) med att citera 

Psaltaren; "How manifold ar€ not thy 

works. O Lord!" Utrooet dndrar han sedan 

till en friga: Hur stori rr egentligen arrantaiet 

i virlden? Ray berdknar att det miste 

finnas 2.000 insektarter bara i England 

och kanske 20.000 i v?irlden, sdkert hiiga 

siffror fiir den tiden liksom den totala 

summan ftir bide viixter och djua runt 40 

- 45.000. Han diskuterar ocksi fiirhlllandet 

mellan artantal och naturbalans. Vi 

kan notera en tidsrfpisk turnering: ju fler 

varianter, desto stiirre iira fiir mlnniskan 

fdr vilken allt detta skapats av den gode 

Guden.

Som en ftiljd av nyupptickt material 

och utfiirt taxonomiskt arbete blev berikningarna 

allt hogre. Men Linnd sjalv hdll 

sig till ganska mittliga antal och klassificerade 

inte fler in ca 15.000 arter. Men ju 

mer han arbetade desto tydligare framstod 

det att han aldrie skulle kunna slutftira sin 

uppgift. Fi;rfatirexemplaret av Systema 

naturae ir frllt med tilldgg. Indirekt resonerade 

Linnd om hur mycket som egentligen 

kunde rymmas iden struktur han 

givit naturbeskrivningen (imnet ir komplicerat 

och lamnas har) och uppenbarli 

gen kunde han tinka sig en natur av helt 

annat om(lns. Han miste vidare allt mer 

inse att han visserligen gav ett system iiver 

naruren men att det ftif den skull inte var 

"naturligr", Strukturerna var oklara, symmetrin 

i gungning redan fiir Linnd. 

Naturen var inte langre ett sk6.p fiirsett 

med ett antal utdrasbara lidor eller ett 

regelbundet och tiverskadligt kabinett. Fijr 

varje dag som gick forefiill det allt mer 

komplicerat och mingfaldigt. N* Linni 

b

24 


som hiigre enheter i den linneanska hierarkin 

blott var mdnskliga konstruktioner. 

Naturen bestSr inte av si.dant utan av 

enskilda individer. Hela naturen dr ett 

enda konrinuum och det enda satret arr 

ftirsti naturen, den enda rimliga "metoden", 

ir att utgi fran sub.jekte* upplevelse 

och att ordna beskrivningarna direfter. 

Vdsentligt iir vidare att anv?inda vanliga 

ord, spriket och dess uttrycksmedel. I 

Buffons hander tenderar naturalhistorien 

si nir att bli till ordrik litteratur och inte 

strikt vetenskao. 

Den filosofiika kernan i Buffons och 

andras (entomologen Rdaumur, boranisren 

Adanson osv) invindningar var tanken om 

"naturens stora kedja" och naturens kontinuitet. 

I sin monografi iiver temat framhiller 

A.O. Lovejoy artproblemet, sdkander 

efrer felande ldnkar, mikroskopisternas 

srudier av mikroliv som utrryck ftii samma 

tankefigur. Kedjemodellen fdrutsatte kontinuitet 

och iven fiirestiillningen om "fullhet", 

men om det ir si blii varje gransdragning 

besvdrlig. Om det finns kontinuitet 

lengs hela skalan si borde samma klassifikatoriska 

kriterier kunna anvdndas hela 

vdgen. LinnC kunde bara med svirighet 

utstrdcka sitt sexualsystem genom vdxtriket 

- lortplantingsorganen hos kryptogamerna 

iakrtogs aldrig utan ftirursartes 

bara. Mellan en art och en annan miste 

det finnas otaliga individer av osiker 

ontologisk position och stor weksamhet 

infiir artbegrepper. Resonemang av det hdr 

slaqet kunde leda rill ett sorts raxonomiskt 

sjlivmord. 

Om naturen visar kontinuitet miste den 

innehilla en miingd "affiniteter", ett nyckelord 

i det sena 1700-talets naturspekulation. 

Det kunde beryda "narher" i illmenhet 

pi kedjan men ocksi inbegripa nigon 

sorts genetisk slikskap. En q'sk zoolog 

(Johan Hermann) kunde genom att arbeta 

med tio variabler berdkna att det mellan wl 

skalbaggsarter kunde finnas 10.172.640 

mii.jliga varieteter. Men var gir di grdnserna? 

Kan man tinka sig si mlnga arter? Och 

kan vi, med ansprik pA fulktandighet, tinka 

oss en sammanhbnsande serie av museifdremll, 

osagt om de f,i;r hemma r naturen 

eller ku.lturen? 

Ldt mig summera. Vi kan se tva skilda 

teman som leder till samma slutsats: den 

gamla iddn om enryklopedisk ordning och 

totalitei hade visat sig omiijlig att fiirverkliga; 

enkel alfabetism fick ersdtta. Och 

tanken om naturen som en kedja, en plenitudo, 

framfdrdes som en "sannare" 

naturalhistoria: naturen var alltftir svir fiir 

att liirste av en man och ett irhundrade, 

Linnis metod var orimligt optimistisk. 

Kritiken kunde Iiirstis inte annat en medge 

aft den i andra sidan var enkel och praktiskt 

firngerande. Den linneanska metoden 

gick pi kryckor, men det linneanska projekr€t 

Yar en succe. 

D E T VETENSKAPLI GA M US E ET 

Minga bide professionella och amattirer 

lockades till naturalhistorien. Fler och fler 

arbetade med namngivande och ordnande 

av den levande vdrlden. Linnds metod 

vann tiv€r rivalernas och spred sig till 

angrinsande omriden. Pi samma sitt som 

frsiken hade varit en idealvetenskap efter 

Newton blev naturalhistorien i Linnds 

form det under 1700-talets andra hdft. Ett 

geme nsamt internationellt sprek utvecklades, 

med fast terminologi och namngivning. 

Annu idag ir de binira namn Linn€ gav till 

vdxter och diur giltiga och namngivningsmetoden 

anvdnds fortfarande. Den veren-

skapliga internationalismen befrimjades 

genom handel med friin och rorkade vdxter 

och djur liksom resande naturalhisroriker. 

De linneanska apostlarna, de anrropologiska 

huvudjagarna, kapren Cooks iessillskap, 

upptdcktsresenerer, artister, samlare, 

alla fi;rde de med sie hem en rik 

skdrd fran filtet. Det linneanska proiekret 

utgjorde - med err ord som brukar anvdndas 

ftir senare perioder - "big science". I 

Sverige blev det en nationalvetenskap. 

Som ett led i en ny esrerik och en ny uppskattning 

av naturen intresserades oclrs1 allminheten 

av naturalhistorien. (Derta dr 

atminstone vad som nieot schablonartat 

brukar sigas av iddhistoriker.) Naturalhistoriens 

institurionella sryrka framgir av hur 

akademiska rrddgirdar och museer vixte. 

Den svenska vetenskaosakademin hade frin 

sin start 1739 samlingar, men de var inledningsvis 

av ganska sdreget slag, ett sjtiris 

tumme och diverse exotica. Fram mor slutet 

av irhundradet hade flera st6rre donationer 

inkorporerats varfiir man ocksi holl sig med 

en intendent. (Fiiga framgingsrik pi posten 

var Arders Sparrman, iorden-runtresendren 

med kapten Cook.) Sesdk vid berijmda 

instirutioner av det slager var var.ie resendrs 

plikt. Museerna, nu inte langre kuriosaftabinett 

utan institutioner i vetenskapens tjinst, 

var pi vdg in i en ny epok. I Frankrike, diir 

mottagandet av Linnds leror till en biirjan 

varit kyligr, omorganiserades eft er revolutionen 

Jardin du Roi efter en modifierad linneansK 

pran. 

Snarare dn att visa upp hela den gudomliga 

ordningen si kunde samlaren eller 

museet egna sig it att vara mer komplett 

dn sin kollega. Tdvlingsmomenrer isamlandet 

blev allt mer rydligt, men det yar 

ett lopp utan fixerad millinje. Ner Carl 

Peter Thunberg, Linnds eftertrddare och 

EN v/tRLD Av uNDER 

250-irsjubilar i ir, fick sitt Botanicum 

byggt runt 1800, gavs av arkitekten (Tempelman) 

bara plars fiir ert herbarium om ca 

15.000 exemplar. Snart nog frlldes varje 

skrymsle i den vackra hallen, er uttryck fdr 

Thunbergs och hans eftertrddares framgingsrika 

flit. I skrift gav han ut en odndlig 

serie dissertationer dver de akademiska 

samlingarna, som vittnade om oavbruten 

ackumulation som aldrig indi blev Iiirdig 

(Museum ndturalium academiae apsdlientis, 

29 delarl. Thunbergs samrida, entomologen 

och swedenborgaren Schdnherr skrev sexton 

volymer om sammanlagt 5000 sidor enbart 

om skalbaggsgruppen curcurlionides eller 

vivlar. Dr

26 


alltsi tidigt. Naturalhistorien gick mot det 

abstrakta, den hamnade i bryderi i fiirhillande 

till de kunskapsteoretiska frigorna 

och den hdll pi att gi under infdr mdngden 

av material; den linneanska eran hade verkligen 

vidgat grjnserna fiir narurssudiet. 

Men det naturalhistoriska museets tiverlevnadsftirmiga 

har alltsi visat sig vara stark. 

Allt detta miste ha plverkat museernas 

egenliv, om det finns ett sidant. Uppgiftens 

storlek innebar att en orofessionell 

museikir (furestindare, taxidermister, vaktmdstare 

osv) uppstod. Uppgiften krivde 

ocksi utrymme. Mot sluret av 1800-talet 

byggs i nationalistisk anda enorma tempel 

till naturalhistoriens dra, t ex 1882 British 

Museum (Natural Hisrory) i Kensingron 

med en ldngd om 209 meter och htijd om 

52 meter. fuksmuseet i Stock-holm 

(1915) er Sveriges stiirsta offentliga byggnad, 

men har likafullt problem med att 

bereda plas it de willande samlingarna. 

Pi samma sitt som de taxonomiska iiversiktsverken 

wingats till supplement byggde 

museelna med tiden sina annex. 

Utvecklingen ledde oclai till att museet 

splittrades i wi syften. Det ena med 

utgingspunkt i Comenius' definition betonade 

museet som en studieplats, arbetsrum 

och forskningsherd. De vetenskapliga 

museerna - British Museum, Riksmuseet - 

sliit sig ocksi inom sig sjdlva. I denna dolda 

vdrld samlade man i stdllet ryDexemplar, 

de individer som si art siiga utgjorde 

artens urbild i Platons menine. Och 

Platon miste uppfattas som der -synligas 

och taktilas erkefiende. Till der vetenskapliga 

museet dgde inte kreti och pleti tilltra- 

oe. 

Det andra undersritk museets oublika 

och undervisande roll. Liksom ikuriosakammaren 

skulle man fdrundras der, dver 

vad som var sdllsyntast, stdrst, minst och 

dl&t. Maenitud och minitud iir alltid 

intressant. lenge var valavdelningen museets 

bdsta attraktion. Kolibris finns exDonerade 

i varje museum med sjzilvakining. 

Pedagogiken var effektiv. I American Museum 

of Natural History lika vil som i Riksmuseet 

i Stockholm stiilldes de stora aporna 

ut i vildsamma oositioner Besiikaren bevittnade 

en vdrld- av vild och kamo. Som 

konrrasr och unryck ftir det rrygga familieidealet 

fanns i Stockholm en monterad myskoxfamil.j 

till beskidan. Museet ldr ut samhdllets 

vdrderingar lika mycket som natur€n 

i sig - om nigot sidant finns. 

Man kan med Max Weber tala om en 

naturens "ar.{tirtrollning" (Entzauberung), 

pibiirjad av den linneanska namnreformen 

(som inte beriirrs hdr. men som innebar 

att gamla lokala, g?irna beskrivande 

benimninear ersatt€s av internationella 

latinska foimella namn) och den absrakta 

linneanska klassificerineen. Och denna 

moderna naturalhistoria-vdxte fram r samspel 

med museivisendet, som vinde sig 

utit och init, fram till dagens upplevelsemuseer 

i kontrast till och konflikt med det 

bioloeiska arkivmuseet. 

Nairralhistorien hiirde i under sin fiirhistoria 

samman med kuriosakabinettens 

rnikrokosmtanke. Nir denna sedan solittrades 

urgjorde naturens kedja en ordnande 

princip. Den i sin tur avlijstes av darwinismens 

historieperspektiv, som med hlrkomsten 

som grundperspektiv ftjrmidde 

locka den stora publiken- Vir plats i skapelsen 

blev pi nJ.tt ett tema fiir utstdllan- 

det. Kolonialismens och imoerialisme ns 

skordar $,llde museerna -.J ldft.n o- 

dventyr och bettre villkor. Idag dr naturens 

mingfald stapelvara i magasinen samtidigt 

som naturen i miljiikrisens dagar hiller pi

att ta slut. Museet blir antingen trist upprepning, 

dyster slutrapport eller barnslig 

lek. 

Men fortfarande fiirsiiker vi framstdlla 

vlrlden si att den dr full av under. Men 

"under" i ftirhillande till vad? Vi misre till 

en annan viirld fdr atr fijrundras. Ner pe 

biograferna Yurassic parks dinosaurier rul- 

Iar upp ir det pi nytt en undrens vlrld 

som beskidas. Men det Ir tekniken made 

in Hollywood som vi ignar vir firrundran. 

Naturen dr underhillning, skapad av oss 

minniskor. 

SUMMARY 

A uondroas uotU. 

The idea of the natural hisrory museum is rraced 

bacL to rhe cabinet of curiositics and connected to 

the development of Linnean taxonomy. Two pro- 

blems are singled out as decisive in thc shape of the 

modern natural museum: taxonomic epistemologr 

(how to find the right characters in arranging plants 

arld animals) and the problem of continuity and 

multitude in nature. The result, obvious at least at 

the end of thc 18th century, is a division of the 

natural hisrory museum into two typ€s: one the 

museurn in the meaning of Comcnius, i. e. for study 

and scholarship, the other the museum made 

public and educarional in thc manner of rhe cabinet 

of the cutiosities. The argumcnt of this brief essay 

is more fully developed and put in connecrion wirh 

the history of rhe enryclopcdia in rhe essay by 

Broberg, "The broken cncle". 

Gunnat Bnberg, professor i idl- och htdomshistoria 

id Lunds aairersitet harfotshat om Linnc och om 

raslrygienens hitoria; 1992 *gau han dcn idzhistoris- 

ha tulband.rantologin Glllzne applen. 

Adr: Institutionen f)r idihittoria, Lun^ uniuenitet, 

Kangshuset, Lundagdrd, 5-22350 Lund. Far +46-46 

t04424 

LITTEMTUR 

EN VARI-D AV UNDER 

Broberg, Gunnar, "The broken circle", The quanti- 

Sing spirit, ed Frzingsmyt T. et al. Berkeley 

1989. 

Broberg, Gunnar "The Swedish Museum of 

Natural History", Science in Sweden, ed Tore 

Fr?ingsmyr. Uppsala 1989. 

Loveioy. Arrhur O.. The grear

28 

NoRDrsK MUsEoLocr 1993 . 2 

THn Muspuu MrssroN 

?ir emnet ftir de internationella museidagar som Institutioncn fdr museologi, 

Umcl univeritet, anordnar i Ume! 15-16 aptil 1994. 

MEDVERKANDE FORELESARE 

DAYID ANDERSoN, I-oNDoN 

HELENA FRJMAN. STocKHoLM 

FRANK JORGENSEN, HAMBURG 

EvELtN LEHATLE, PArus 

INGE MELDGAARD, AARHUS 

HANS PEDERSEN, BERGEN 

BoNNIE PITMAN, BERKELY 

MAGNE VELUruI. ULLEHAMMER 

Skriv, ring eller fexa efter detal.jprogram till 

INsrrrurroNEN FOn uusEoLocr 

Umel universitet, 5-901 87 Umei, 

tcl +4&(0)90-165958 (trn\, tu +46-(0)90-166672 

MUSEUMSHoJSKoLEN 

Be om I fl kursuskatalog tilsendt 

MuseuvsH@JSKoLEN 

Jyderupvej 18, DK-4560 Vig

NoRDrsK M us Eo Locr 1993,2, s.29-38 

HvonroR oPSToD 

FoxpuusEpr? 

Van DET BgnNHARD OrssNs 

sKYLD ELLER rA onr r rroEN? 

Holger R*mussen 

Nationalmaseet i 30'erne. Huilhen euentyruerdzn for en uestsjalkndsh bondzsndznt! 

Det nye rnuseurn uar nasten fardigt, og Dansk Folhemuseum ryhhede ind fra sit proaisoiske 

ophoA pd. hfisetagen ouer Kunstindustrim*seet. Egentlig har det abid haf 

proaisorishe opholdsxeder men dzt fandt jeg forst ud afeferhdnden. Dansh 

Folhemaseum blca min hre- og arbqjdsphds gjennem mange dr, og dzt haitterte jeg 

for 

Olsen. 

aed at skriue bogen om dcts stifer den mangesidede og mangeklndige Bemhard 

Bernhard Olsens betydning for Folkemuseet 

kan kort beskrives siledes. Georg 

Karlin, grundleggeren av Kulturen i Lund, 

fonalte ved Folkemuseets 25 irs .lubilaum 

at han engang fik besog af en gammel, 

jysk bondemand, der ikke uden bitterhed 

omtalte blindheden ved de aldre museer 

for folkeminderne, der isar i Danmark 

havde haft sine skadelige virkninger. Men 

si, sagde Karlin, "hOjde han stlmman og 

sade pl sitt breda bygdemil: "Men da 

opvakte Gud en mand, der hedder 

Bernhard Olsen!" Da denne mlde at 

affandige overskriftens sporgsmil pi nok 

ikke tilfredsstiller, skal jeg forsoge at 

besvare dem mere detaljeret og i ovrigt 

henvise til min boe om Bernhard Olsen. 

TIDEN OG MANDEN 

To ting mi man serre ind pi: Tiden og 

tnanden. Jeg tager da iret 1879 som skeringspunkt, 

tiden for Kunst- og Industri 

udstillingen i Ksbenhavn. Hvad var der af 

kulturhistoriske museer oi dette tidspunkt, 

og hvad dekkede de? Forsr og 

fremmest var der Oldnordisk Museum, 

hvor hovedvagren li pi forhistorien og 

middelalderen. I 1884 konstaterede 

'Worsaae, at de to foregangsmand ved 

museets dannelse havde sat tidsmessiee 

grenser for ders virke: "Nyrup blw is-it 

forslag til er Nationalmuseum stnende ved 

Reformationen og Thomsen for Oldsagsmuseets 

vedkommende ved Suvereni-

30 

HoLG ER RASMUSSEN 

tetens indforelse (1660). Datiden, som r 

det hele undervurderede de yngste kulturstadiers 

betydelse, ja som tildels med 

kunstnerisk ringeagt si ned pi rokoko- og 

empirestilen, havde ikke i tilstrekkelig 

grad flet ojet ibnet for, at et kulturhistorisk 

museum ... mi til den rette forstielse 

af nutiden oplyse alle forudgiende tidsrum 

og ikke mindst dem, hvorpi nutidens 

hele udvikling umiddelbart hviler". 

Samlingerne pi Rosenborg med deres helt 

specielle karakter, betragtedes som fortszttelsen 

indtil 1848 med den frie forfatnings 

indfsrelse, og hojere op i tiden skulle 

museerne ikke gi. 

Et supplement til disse to museer udgjordes 

af de forste -provinsmuseer: Ribe 

(1855), Odense og fuhus (1860), Vborg 

(1861) og Alborg (1863), hvortil kom 

Randers (1872) og den forste spade 

begyndelse til Maribo (1879), der alle mi 

betragtes som mindre udgaver af Oldnordisk 

museum med hovedvrgten lagt pl de 

forhistoriske genstande. Dog kunne "historisk 

interessante genstande fra senere 

tider optages i samlingen, slfiemt det 

kunne ske uden tilsidesettelse afdets narmeste 

formil", som det fastslis i Viborg 

museets statutter, 

Det er pi denne baggrund overletet 

Joh. Forchammer i Alborg i 1866 i Jydske 

Samlinger skriver om trangen eller dog 

lysten til overalt i Danmark, "at oprette 

oldnordiske samlinger, historiske museer 

eller med hvilke andre navne man har kaldet 

vesentlig samme ting". Og han finder 

forklaringen herpi i "hele den indelige 

retning, der gir gennem Europa... 

Frihedens frugter mi komme det hele folk 

si vidt mulig't ligeligt til gode". Derfor, 

siger han, "finder vi den samme streben i 

Norge og Sverige, i Svejts og vistnok 

mange andre steder i Europa". Det Ii altsi 

i tiden. Det vender vi tilbage til, men nu 

manden. 

BERNHARD OLSEN 

Bernhard Olsen (1836 - 1922) var ssn af 

portnerfolket ved Borchs kollegium i St. 

Kannikestrede. Moderen dode, da han var 

6 ir gammel og faderen 4 ir senere. Vi ved 

blot, at han gik i Efterslagtselskabets skole, 

efterfulgt af Teknisk skole for si i 1853 

at blive optaget pi Kunstakademiet. Som 

altid, nir der er uoplyste perioder i en 

fremtredende mands liv, har der varet 

formodninger om en mere passende barnefader 

for drengen end portneren. Man 

har ogsi ment, at han var blandt de born, 

der flokkedes om "gamle Thomsen", nir 

han fremviste sine samlinger. Harald 

Engberg hevder i sin bog om Pantomimerearret, 

at Bernhard Olsen var et vajsenhusbarn, 

"et rnerkeligt begavet og id€rigt 

Vajsenhusbarn, som senere gav impulsen 

dl "Skansen" i Stockholm (!) og skabte 

blde Folkemuseet og Frilands-museet". 

Engbergs pistand holder ikke stik. 

Bernhard Olsens navn findes ikke i Va.lsenhusets 

skoleorotokoller. 

Desvarre vai Bernhard Olsen tilbageholdende 

med at ytre sig om sit liv. Hans 

yngre yen og kollega Emil Hannover forsogte 

gentagne gange at fA ham til at skrive 

sine erindringer, men forgrves: "Nir 

De har strabt at drage mig ud af min 

Uberomthed, mi jeg sige Dem, at denne 

har veret min egen forsatlige skyld.- Bene 

uixit, bene latuit har varet mit ledemotiv 

hele mit liv og vil vedblive dermed. Jeg 

har til eget brug oversat det pi Peder 

Laales dansk, og det er udlagt: lonligt liv 

(er) lykkeligt. Det har bevaret rnig frisk i

sind, medensjeg har set mange andre blive 

inficeret af museumsbacillen og gi til 

grunde helt eller halvt". 

Der er en hel del kokertcri i dette credo. 

For Bernhard Olsen var ingenlunde anonym, 

w€rt imod ofte i sogelyset pi grund 

af sine mange foretagender. Han blev da 

ogsi hedret. I1905 fik han to hyldestadresser 

fra henholdsvis alle betydelige 

museumskolleger i Stockholm og fra Nordiska 

Museet. Og 5 ir senere en pomposr 

udstyret adresse fra Folkemuseets bestyrelse. 

Universitetet i Lund gjorde ham til 

hadersdoktor i 1918, og derudover var han 

rigt forsynet mcd udmarkelsestegn. Da 

han forlod sin stilling som direktor for 

Tivoli, fik han tildelt dets guldmedalje. 

Da udstillingen i 1879 var slut, udnevntes 

han til ridder af Dannebrog, i 1905 fulgt 

op af Dannebrogsmendenes haderstegn, 

ved musecrs 25 irs iubilrum forrjensrmedaljen 

i guld og endelig i 1920 "som anerkendelse 

for sit utrcttelige arbejde for folkemuseets 

udvikling og trivsel" kommandor 

af Dannebrog. Hvorom ordenshistoriografen 

1977 bemarker: "Han er siledes 

blevet dekoreret i en grad, man neppe ville 

gore det i dag". Trods dette undlod han 

at leyere den beretning til ordenskapitlet, 

som cllers forudsattes. 

Denne tilbageholdenhed er symptomatisk, 

for han var meg€r fimrlt om sin egen 

person. Egentlig har han blot beskrevet sin 

barndom som et bidrag ril Vort Folh i det 

nittende Aarbundrede (1897) under titlen: 

"Barndomsminder fra Fyrrerne", der alt 

overvcjende er en kulturhistorisk skildring 

af hans del af Kobenhavn, men meget lidr 

om ham selv. Han lagger dog vagt pi at 

understrege forbindelsen til faderens familie 

pi Herlufmagleegnen. Bernhard Olsens 

faster og hendes mand, der var girdfastere 

HvoRt,()R opst oD lioLKcMUsEET 

Pontafoto afBernhard Olsen (1836-1922) efiet originalfoto 

i Teatermusect, gjengix i Holger Rasmtsssen: 

Bernhard Olsen. Vrhe og uarher (1979) 

i Hjelmsolille, aflagdc nu og da portnerfamilien 

et besog. Jeg formoder, at bekendtskabet 

med dem har varet med til, ar 

Bernhard Olsen foreslog udstillingen i 

1879 udvidet med en afdeling for landbostanden. 

Hans skildring afdem tyder derpi: 

"Det var et Par gamle, vindtorre, knoklede 

Folk af den vidunderlige Race, som efter 

Udskiftningen byggede vorr Land op afdets 

dybe Forfald i Fallesskabets sidste Tid. De 

fik i deres unge Dage en ussel Gaard, ravende 

i Bygfaldighed... Jorderne var fulde af 

Sten og Pytter med staaende Vand, overgroet 

med Ukrudt og Krat, men de bandt an 

med denne stenbundne og vandsyge Jord, 

og de fik Bugt med den, og som gamle Folk 

sad de godt i det". 

3l

H oLG ER RASMUSSEN 

Samtidie med Kunstakademiet kom han i 

lere som rylograf i treskarerfirmaet Kittendorff 

& Aagaard, hvor hans tegnetalent 

medforte, at han relatirt hurtigt blev taget 

fra skaring af trykklodser og i stedet "sat til 

at tegne senere til at skrive og overs€tte til 

de forskellige illustrerede Tidsskrifter, som 

Firmaet udgav"- Et af dem vat lllustreret 

Tidende, hvortrl Bernhard Olsen dlerede i 

forste irgang tegnede og beskrev de nyligt 

fremdragne kongedragter pi Rosenborg. 

Det blev til en lang rakke arbejder for tidsskriftet 

i de folgende ir, bide sehwalgte som 

dragter, folkelivsbilleder og prospekter og 

illustrationer til aktuelle begivenheder- 

Som medlem af Kunstnerforeningen af 

18. November ledede han udsmykningen 

ved nogle af dens karnevaller og andre 

festligheder. Ifolge traditionen var det disse 

arrangementer, der anbragte ham som 

direktor for Tivoli (1868 - 86) i konkurrence 

med overkrigskommisse.r Haegh- 

Guldberg og skuespiller Otto Zink. Han 

har selv vurderet disse ir som meget gavnlige 

(ifolge Hannover i "et stykke selvbiografi", 

som det ikke har veret muligt at 

opspore), fordi de gav anledning til rejser - 

for Tivolis vedkommende irligt til forskellige 

steder i Europa for at hente ideer 

hjem; "Jeg har lert meget ddr; jeg kom 

ind i mangfoldige fag, hvortil kundskabet 

har gavnet mig senere. Da forholdene pi 

etablissementet opfordrede dertil, blev .jeg 

sat ind i megen praktisk virksomhed, lerte 

bygnings- og belysningsvrsen, havekunst 

o.s.v.. fik Europa at se ved irlige rejser og 

kom til de store udstillinger". 

Bernhard Olsen hentede erfarinser 

mange sreder i forskellige rollefag. SJm 

lo.jrnanr i 1864 sendte han regninger og 

beretninger fra feltlivet til Illustreret 

Tidende. Som kostumier ved det Konse- 

lige Teater og andre kobenhavnske scener 

havde han opdrag sidelobende med sin 

virksomhed ved Tivoli og han nojedes 

ikke med kostumetegninger til de enkelte 

foresrillinger, men fremsatte sine synspunkter 

pi hele udformningen af srykker- 

ne i et par artikler fra 1880 i det nystarte- 

de Ugeshirt for Theater og Musik med, d,et 

kendskab til fransk teater han havde 

erhvervet ved et studieophold ved Thdatre 

frangais i 1875. Yed, Holberg-jubileet i 

1884 onskede chefen for det Kel. Teater at 

"de Holbergske Skuespil onsfes givne i 

nyt og fuldstandigt correct Udsryr saavel 

hvad Costumer som Decoradoner, Meubler 

m.m. ansaar". Bernhard Olsen fik anwaret 

for "D-en oolitiske Kandestober". Pi 

et senere tidspunkt gjorde han over for 

Dansk Folkemuseums forretningsudvalg 

rede for, ar "i Erkendelse af ar Tearrer inret 

autentisk ejede fra Tiden 1720-30, efter 

hvis Mode Holbe rgske Figurer bor klades, 

blev jeg ved Holberg-Jubileet, skont for 

langst flernet fra min Plads ved Teatret, af 

dettes Sryrelse anmodet om at ordne 

Kostumeringen af et af de opforte Srykker. 

Det er det eneste Forsog som giordrs paa at 

shaffe Holberg en horreht Udstyrelse, men 

ued det er det bleuez 'l Man marker sig den 

sidste satning. Bernhard Olsen vidste nok, 

hvad han var vard. Og det vidste andre 

ogsi. Skuespillere, der sogte hans rld, fik 

detaljerede anvisninger. Det fremgir bl.a. 

afet brev til Olaf Poulsen (april 1880) om 

dragter til Holbergs skuespil. Og ligeledes 

til Hans Tegner ved illustreringen af Ernst 

Bo.lesens jubeludgave, hvor Bernhard Olsen 

ikke blot var garant for dragternes nojagtighed, 

men hvor han ogsi forsynede kunstneren 

med minutiose beskrivelser og kommentarer 

og henvisninger til varker og 

samlinger.

DE STORE UDSTILLINGER 

Lad os vende tilbaee til tiden med Forchammers 

konstaterlg af oprettelsen af 

museer overaft i Europa i 1860'erne. 

60'erne og 70'erne var ogii de store udstillingers 

tid. Man onskede ar demonsrrere, 

hvor herligt vidt man havde bragt det med 

de tekniske landvindineer. Der var si 

afgjort formilet med uditillingen i London 

l85l i det til lejligheden opforte 

Krystalpalads. Folgende verdensudstillinger 

havde vel samme sigte, men gav desuden 

plads for kulturhisrorisk (etnologisk) 

materiale. Skelsettende er udsrillinein i 

Paris 1867, hvor den franske udstiilings 

komiri havde lagr speciek vegt pi. cosimes 

popalaires des diuerses contl4et, hvor 

Frankrig selv viste en serie, indsendt fra landets 

forskellige depaftem€nrer. Storsr opmzrksomhed 

vakte dog den svensk-norske 

afdeling, der bestod af i alt 15 dragtdukker 

med svenske, norske og samiske dragter, 

udstillet i nicher. Dragterne var pi realisdsk 

udformede dragtdukker og vakre veldig 

interesse. En dansk journalist beskrev dem 

siledes: "Udforelsen er si illusorisk, at 

mange besogende ansi disse figurer for 

Ievende; ikke blot er dragterne usedvanlig 

smukle, me n de bares af virkelige folke ryper, 

hvis gruppering, ansigter og hander 

snarere gor det hele til en samling genreskulpturer 

end til udkladte dukker". 

Svenske folkedragrer mere og mere 

bevidst udformet i genremessige opstillinger 

visres i \fien 1873 og i Philiadelphia 

1876. Det skal bemarkes, at ingen af 

disse var Hazelius ansvarlig [or, og l-igeledes, 

at Bernhard Olsen ikke ses at have 

kendt til disse udstillinser. 

Da en ny verdensuditilling skulle finde 

sted i Paris i 1878, var der imidlerrid 

Hvo RFoR opsToD FoLKEMUsIE I 

Artur Hazelius, der stod for den svenske 

afdeling, som han udformede i fire tableauer 

og nogle fritstiende dragtdukker. 

tbleauerne bestod af to eksteriorer med 

malede panoramaer som baggrund, nemlig 

en lappelejr med rensdyrfl"rspand og en 

gruppe bonderfolk fra Dalsland. Desuden 

to interiorer det ene af en hallandsk bondestue 

med mand, kone og kat og det 

andet det rorende "Lillans"sista b-add", 

som Hazelius havde udformet efter Amalia 

Lindegrens maleri i sentimental Diisseldorfstil. 

Tableauerne var afskarmede pi 

de tre sider og ibne ud mod publikum. 

Sverige var ikke alene om at udstille dragter 

i fortellende opstillinger. Nederlandene 

modte op med deres mott pictaresqu( natioca*un1t 

som,, opstilledes i grupper 

7al. 

''efter svensk maner" som en markedsscene, 

et agtepar fra oen Marken, et ung par pi 

isen og fiskere fra Scheveningen. I en originaf 

stue fra Hindeloopen, der i 1877 havde 

veret vist pi en historisk udstilling i 

Friesland, vistes en gruppe i fard med forberedelserne 

til en barnedib. 

Det er denne udstilling i Paris, der mi 

tillagges afgorende betydning for, at 

Dansk Folkemuseum blev til og at det 

ske te ved Bernhard Olsen. Der Ln ,"-menfattes 

i det gamle evenryr om imanden, 

der krever sit offer ved ar omqore 

hans krav: Tiden er kommen, -.n -"nden 

er ikke kommen til: Tid.en er hommen 

og manden er lgsd hzmmen. Her forenes de 

to forudsatninger for museets tilblivelse. 

Bernhard Olsen var iParis for at finde 

nyheder til sit Tivoli. Han skrev hjem til 

Illastrerct Tidendc om eksotiske befordringsmidler 

i den zooloqiske acclimarionshavi i 

Boulogneskoven, oir den runesiske cafe pl 

verdensudsrillingen og om de gamle rrrer 

pl Robinson, et yndet udflugbmil for pari- 

l3

34 

HoLGER RASMUSSEN 

serne og forsynede artikl€rne med tegninger. 

Men omtalen d udstillingen selv havde 

Illustreret Tidende givet til en anden af sine 

medarbejdere. Bernhard Olsen havde imidlertid 

noje studeret udstillingen og droftet 

den med Hazelius pi stedet (han nevner 

det i et brev til Hazelius af 17ll 1879: "da 

vi ta.lte sammen si ofte"). Pi et senere tidspunkt 

(en redegorelse for Folkemuseet i 

Illusrre-ret Tidende, 1885) gav han folgende 

vurdering af den svenske dragtudsdlling: 

"Man fornemmede, at her var skabt noget 

helt nyt, et gennembrud for en ny museumsidC 

vedr. befolkningsgrupper, hvis liv og 

farden hidtil var forblevet uenset af den 

traditionelle og officielle opfattelse..." 

Ydede han siledes Hazelius skyldig 

respekt, var han dog mere optaget af den 

nederlandske aftleling: "Hollenderne havde 

enten af egen opfindelse eller af Hazelius' 

indflydelse skabt deres eget lille folkemuseum, 

der ganske afueg fra den svenske 

udstilling. Medens denne viste interiorerne i 

smi rum omgivet af tre vegge, fuldstendig 

som i voksfigurkabinetter, der pi mange 

mider har veret forbilledet for Hazelius, si 

havde Hollenderne rejst en hel stue, som 

man kunne g.i ind i. Hvert stykke stammede 

fra gamle huse og fandtes pi sin rette 

plads. Virkningen var - i modsetning til 

den svenske mide - gribende, og i samme 

ojeblik, hvor jeg tridte ind i denne gamle 

stue, der var som en anden verden, $ern i 

tid og rum fra den myldrende, moderne 

nutidsudstilling, blev det mig klart, at siledes 

skulle et folkemuseum indrettes". 

FOLKEMUSEET TAGER FORM 

Muligheden for at realisere denne idd, eller 

ialtfald at gore begyndelsen hertil kom hurtigt 

efter besoget i Paris. I Koben-havn 

arbejdede man med en udstilling af "aldre 

og nyere Kunst- og Industrigen-stande", 

som det hed i udstillingskomiteens henvendelse 

til offendigheden. Man havde taget 

model efter tilwarende udstillinger i udlandet 

ved at ville prasentere "en Udstilling af 

kunstneriske og industrielle Frembringelser 

fia Ind- og Udlandet, fortrinwis ^dog af 

sldanne Genstande fia de tre sidste fuhundredet 

som er blevne til eller har varet i Brug 

i de gammeldanske og de i ovrigt til Danmark 

i det navnte Tidsrurn endnu horende 

hnde... alt ordnet chronologisk for navnlig 

at bidrage til at give et, vore kulturhistoriske 

Museer supplerende iyldigt og levende 

Billede iszr fra Reformationstiden til vore 

Dage foregiende kunstneriske og industrielle 

Udvikling i vort Fedreland". Man tilstrebte 

s3ledes en historisk udstilling, der 

skulle tjene til inspiration for nutidig skaben, 

og i hven fald et af komitemedlemmerne, 

rustmester Georg Christensen, der 

var formand for Industriforeningen, hlbede 

pi, at resultatet kunne blive et kunstindustn€lt 

museum. 

Nu blev det i stedet et folkemuseum, for 

ved komiteens andet mode l5ll 1879 kunne 

dens formand arkeologen J.J.A. Vorsaae 

oplyse, at "lo.itnant Bernhard Olsen, der 

meger har beskeftiget sig med alt, hvad der 

vedrorer eldre moder i de forskellige dragter, 

havde lovet at ville stotte komitden i 

denne henseende, men tillige ment bedst at 

kunne fiemme sagen, nir han kunne piberibe 

sig en udtrykkelig bemyndigelse". 

I bemyndigelsen var ikhe narmere angivet, 

hvad han skulle tage sig af ud over 

dragterne, men sine planer robede han i det 

tidligere omtalte brev af l7l1 1879 tll 

Hazelius. altsl skrevet umiddelbart efter 

komiteens tilsaen. I brevet hedder det: 

"senere (efter dJres samtaler i Paris) har jeg

Hv()Rr,()R ol si ot) FoLKEMUsEET 

Hcdcbostun pl dcn kxutinduticlle d.ttilling i Kobcnhan 1879. Tegning afJ. T. Hansen. 

Ill*treret Tidende 7. septembet 1979. 

gjort alt, hvad der stod i min magr ved ar 

agitere for et nationalt museum i Danmark, 

og ieg har begyndt at vakke interesse for 

sagen, endog i en sidan grad, ar ieg har feer 

det hverv at samle og ordne afdelingen for 

kostumer og husflid iden retrospektive 

kunstindustrielle udstilling, som skal i.bnes i 

Kobenhavn i |tlr'i. - Sorn De uit se, er aet 

allerede et berydeligt skridt ferndd, dt jeg har 

jiet dtn historisk+mograf ske uidenshab optag* 

i udstillingsprograrnmet, htilhet ihhe uar 

pdtenkt opindeligt, og der shal, dct louer jeg 

bliue gjort et energisk forsog pi at samle ab, 

huad ui har tilouers afgamle folheminder her i 

Danmarh. Har man dn forst samkt, er ucjen 

til et museum ikhe kng og det skal noh komme 

Men forelobig havde han nok at gore 

med at line ting ind, for sivel afdelingen 

for landbostanden, som han kaldte sin del 

af udstillingen, som det komm€nde museum 

begyndte pi bar bund. Og der var kun 

nogle l? mineder ril indsamling, registrering, 

eventuelt helt nodvendig konservering 

og opstilling. Nir det lykkedes, mi det forst 

og fremmest tilskrives Bernhard Olsens 

utrolige arbe.ldsformien samt en god skoling 

ved arrangemenrerne i Kunstnerforeningen 

og i Tivoli. Han har i et brev til 

redaktor Vilh. Topsoe (9/6 1880) nogle 

bemarkninger om sit arbejde hermed: Resultatet 

af arbejder var, skriver haa, "at jeg i 

april havde skaffet de fire stuer (hvorafamagerstuen, 

hedebostuen og melsalen fra 

Bornholm opstilledes), stof til 70 figurer 

med nationaldragter, den svenske afdeling 

35

36 

Hol-cER RASMUSSEN 

og berydelige dele af komitdens udstilling 

(bl.a. det Kgl. teaters store bidrag af dragter). 

Der modte over 1.000 udstillere og et 

kaos af omtrent 10.000 udstillingsgenstande, 

et urede af gamle klude og rustent kram, 

om hvis udseende for ordning loppetorvet 

nrppe giver en anelse. Der var vaggetoi i 

alle paneler og mobler og et stov og en lugt 

i de hundred ir gamle bondeklader, der var 

verre end cayenne... Hver stump har jeg 

selv sat op med egne hander, nummereret 

og beskrevet i katalog uden at have den 

ringeste medhjalp afbureaukomitd eller lignende 

indretninger". 

Hans afdeline for landbostanden adskilte 

sig markant-fra den kronologisk ordnede 

af enkeltgenstande som et samspil af 

genstande i flere niveauer, som det kan ses 

af Budtz Mi.illers store fotografier. Nyt og 

overraskende for et hjemligt publikum var 

de realistiske dragtfigurer opstillet i fortellende 

grupper, men uden det drama, som 

Hazelius ofte tilstrebte. Nyt var ogsi de 

komplet udstyrede bondestuer, som man 

kunne gi ind i. Men ikke blot udstillingsformen 

var ny og overraskende. Det gjaldt 

ogsi forklaringen til de udstillede ting. Af 

udstillingskatalogens 272 sider udgor den 

forste del, hvor de enkelte qenstande 

opregnes ganske kort konge for konge fra 

Christian I. til Frederik VII, 198 sider, 

resten beskriver bondestand og hindvark, 

men det er denne del, der ved sin disposition 

og udformning har nyhedens inreresse, 

for her fremheves de udstillede genstande 

ved i stort omfang at vare udvidet 

med kulturhistoriske kommentarer. der 

placerer og forklarer dem. 

Selv i den travle indsamlingsperiode havde 

Bernhard Olsen afset tid til at publicere 

et par kronikker i National-tidende (Om 

Husflid.sbunster i Hedebo-egnen og Mofu og 

Nationaldragt), og det fulgte han i udstillingstiden 

op med en rekke artikler i 

Illustreret Tidende om dragter, bondestuer, 

bylav, husgerid, drikkeskik og drikkekaa 

hvor han frldigere end i katalogen og med 

illustrationer kunne sli til lyd for sin idd om 

at holde si meget som muligt af det indsamlede 

sammen, nir udstillinge n var til 

ende. Det var det kommende museum, han 

argumenterede for. 

Net Folke-use"t og andre kulturhistoriske 

museer af samme art oDster ved denne 

tid - man behover blot at navne det samtidige 

museum i Lund, "Kulturen" og de to 

norske museet Norsk Folkemuseum os de 

Sandvigske samlinger i Lillehammer -- si 

var.iordbunden godet godt gennem fokelivsskildringer 

i litteratur og malerkunst. 

Det li altsi i tiden. Men museet mitte vente 

pi sin mand. Inspirationen, pivirkningen, 

kan ogsi pivises. Hazelius spillede en 

rolle ved tilblivelsen af alle de navnre museer, 

uden at de blev kopier af hans museum, 

hans ideer. I mange henseender gik de deres 

egne veje, ogsi i opposition til Hazelius. 

Nir Hazelius kaldte sit museum Nordiska 

Museet, er der en reminiscens af 

svenske stormagtsdromme i det, som ogsi 

fik udtryk i de mangder af norske genstande, 

som i vognlas kortes over gransen til 

Stockholm. De norske museer kan betragtes 

som en reaktion pi denne museumspolitik. 

Ogsi danske genstande sogte Hazelius at 

sikre sig, men i langt beskednere omfang. 

Nir Bernhard Olsen fik si stor fremgang i 

indsamlingen af genstande fra de skinske 

Iandskaber, skete det delvis som en reaktion 

mod Nordiska museet. Karakteristisk €r 

siledes det tilbud, som Karlin og Martin 

Veibull kom med, for at vrrge landsdelen, 

"de gammeldanske provinser mod Hazelius' 

febrilske indkob".

DET NATIONALE MUSEUM 

Bernhard Olsens indsats er ikke en reaktion 

pi Hazelius' virke. Hvad var da hans tanker 

om Dansk Folkemuseum? Han havde sliet 

til lyd for et nationalt museum, men for 

ham var et storre nationalt besreb aldeles 

afgorende. I 1906 forklarede f,arl det fo, 

Emil Hannover: "Det er mig om at gor€, at 

fl preciseret, hvad der har varet min ledende 

tanke med museerne i by og ved Folevad 

fra den forste stund, jeg fik deres dannelse i 

hnnd. Oldnordisk Museum havde efter 

Thomsens tid betrastet de tabte lande ostensunds 

som absolui udland. Efter Slesviqs 

rab fik det samme skabne og gled sivelsom 

de skinske lande helt ud af museets omride 

og arbejde (at dette delvis er anderledes nu, 

skyldes mit initiativ)". Og siger han, da man 

i undewisningen har fulgt museets eksempel, 

"er resultatet blevet sorgeligt. Vi har 

gjort os skyldige i en slap opgiven af det 

nationale fallesskab". 

To mil havde Bernhard Olsen sat for sin 

gerning. "Min hensigt med museerne var 

at ride bod pi det forsomte og forvanskede, 

og i valget af bygningerne ved Lyngby 

har jeg sogt ikke alene af finde riden i 

husets udvikling fra arne til muret skorsten, 

men de er udtagne fra de tabte lande ikke 

alene, fordi de primitiveste typer fandtes 

der, rnen fordi ungdommen her shal belares 

om ah d.et, dzr en gang har hort til Danmark, 

fasne mindzt om det tabte og bane u4en for 

den indelige samling af det spredte, der er den 

eneste_ form for en generobring som jeg han 

Ene. 

Var Bernhard Olsen skyldig? Ja, ellers 

burde han have holdt finsrene fra udstillingen 

i 1879 og ikke havi brugt den som 

udgangspunkt for dannelse af et museum, 

som han i forste fase kaldte Samlingen af 

Hvo R FoR o PsroD FoLKEM UsEET 

den danshe Bondexands Fortidsruinder os 

snafl derefter med Worsaacs velsisnelse for 

Dansh l-blhcmuseum i Kobcnhain. Hans 

museumsranker fik bred opbakning blandt 

de folk, der havde sendt ting til udstillingen. 

Bonden Hans Chr. Hansen i Ejstrup 

ved bgstor skrev til ham i l88l: "Det har 

gladet mig at se i aviserne, at der nu er g.jort 

skridr ril at fl et folkemuseum oprettet i 

Kobenhavn i lighed med, hvad de allerede 

lange har havt i Stockholm... Det er jo serlig 

bondestanden, De har henvendt Dem 

til. Det har gladet mig, fordi jeg troer, at 

det er oi hsie tid..." 

Med andrineen af museets navn onskede 

Bernhard Olsen at oracisere, at det han 

rilstrrbre, var er folkiligt museum - i et 

brev til arkitekt F. Meldahl i 1879 havde 

han kaldt det et dansk ethnografisk museum 

- for borgere- og bondestand for tiden 

fra midten af det 17. til midten af det 19. 

i.rhundrede som en fonsattelse oe fuldstrndiggorelse 

af de eksistercnde hlstoriske 

sarnlinger. "Medens disse vesentlig optage 

G.,enstande af virkelig historisk eller 

kunstnerisk Vard, vil vort Museum blive 

rent kulturhistorisk og give et samlet malerisk 

Billede af vorc folkelige og provinsielle 

Ejendommeligheder" (marts 1881). Med 

det endrede navn fulgte siledes et bredere 

slgte. 

-Flovedparten af danske museer ville aldrig 

vare blevet til det. de er. hvis ikke menncsker 

af en saregen stobning havde givet tid 

og krafter - ofte ud over al rimelighed - til 

at fore sagen igennem. Et si.dant menneske 

var Bernhard Olsen. Hans eksempel og det 

museum, han skabte, fik stor indflydelse pi 

lokalmuscerne. For et enkelt af dem, museet 

i Maribo, fik der afgorende berydning. 

En af de ivrigste medhjalpere ved indsamlingen 

til udstillingen i 1879 var hus-

38 

HoLcER RASMUSSEN 

mand og musiker J. Olsen i Bakkebolle. 

Han havde tidligere veret en virksom lokal 

medarbeider for Oldnordisk museum efter 

direkte kontakt med W'orsaae. Nu fortsatte 

han efter Folkemuseets dannelse som en 

interesseret medarbeider for dette. Da han i 

1890 blev kustode ved museet i Maribo, var 

hans forste opgave at fly.tte museets samlinger 

til den nye museumsbygning. Det 

betsd en total gennemgang af genstandene 

med markning og sortering, og det er vard 

at marke sig, at han til ordningen af de historiske 

samlinger fulgte det system med 

opdeling i saglige grupper, som Bernhard 

Olsen havde flet sat i vark fra 1892 og fret 

trykt samme lr i Folkemuseets katalog over 

dets samlinger. 

SUMMARY 

Vfu did the Danisb FolA Musmm come into being? 

Holger Rasmussen has (1979) written a sundard bio- 

graphy on Bernhard Olsen (1836-1922), who founded 

the museurn in 1879, opened it in 1885 and in l90l 

established the open-air museum, Fih amutca, al 

Lyngby as a patt of the museum. In his paper he asks 

whether the mrxeurn was the product of an age or the 

creation ofa specific personality - Bernhard Olsen. 

The age saw rhe binh of many museunx in 

Denmark, most of them collecting and exhibiting prehistoric 

objeca and modelled on C J Thomsens 

museum in Copenhagen. But in Sweden Anut 

Hazelius and Georg Kadin had surted another gpe of 

museum projects inspired by the folk-concept. The 

Vorld Exhibitions favoured romandc represenrations 

of a picturesque folk-culture, in their turn inspired by 

the popular genre-painting and the nostalgic and senti- 

mental novels of the day. 

Benhard Olsen had very wide interests, was cained 

as a.n artist and worked as costurne designer for the the- 

aue as well as entenainer and writer for the press. He 

became the direcror of tlre well-known C-openhagen 

Tiuoli.ln 1878 he had visited and studied the 'i(orld 

Exhibition in Paris, where he had met Artur Hazelius. 

He returned homc very impresed with what he had 

seen, more so with the manner in which the Dutch 

had presenred their folk culrure wirh room inrerion, 

which dre visitor cou.ld enter, than with the picture- 

like exhibitiorrc of Hazelius. Vhen given the responsi- 

biliry in 1879 to arrange a section ofan Exhibition on 

Arts, Clafts and Industry in Copenhagen, which 

should presenr folk costumes and traditiond crafts, 

Olsen set out with the purpose to staa the collecting 

for a new museum, He chose to arrange the material in 

three interiors with 70 mannekins in costumes - mum 

in the Dutch fashion he had secn in Paris. 

His exhibition was v€ry successfrrl and became the 

starting-point for his career as cre tor of both Danth 

Folhcnrsmm and Filzndsnuect Thus, the paper 

concludes, the creation of the museum was dependent 

both of the spirit of an age for its creation and recepu- 

on - and of the strong purpose in a gifted personaliry. 

Holget Ramasen er cand. mag i hi.storie, dansk og Esh. 

,Assinmt aed Damk Folhemts*nfa t942, inEcharfa 

1946 og ouerin:pektor samne *ed fa 1959. Dr. ph;l pA 

afhandling om Linfiordsftsheia I 968. 

Ab.: Faglsang'uej j0, DK-28j0 Virun 

L]TTEMTUR 

Hofger Rasmussen: Da wk Muetmshistoie. Dc htbtr- 

historiske mweer, Kobenhavn 1979. 

- Bemhard Oben. Vrke og uarker, Kobethavn 1979. 

- Kustode J. Olsen, Maribo. Musiker-oldsagssamlermuseumsmand. 

tolland- Falsrers Srifumuseums irs- 

sknft 1977 , 1241.

NoRDlsK MusEoLoct 1993.2, s. 39 io 

MusnuMS rN Brurerx AND THE 

Frnsr \7oruo \Wen 

Gaynor Kauanagh 

As an historian, genealogy has always tuonied me. I hold the Bible and the legal profession 

equally responsibb for what is, afier all, an obsession. Those uho engage in 

genealoglt usually haue something to proue. They search for an unbrohen lineage to 

someone u.,ortb being related to and, better still, important Deuiations ahng the way, 

such as illegitimacy, can be tolerated as hng as they are suficiently far in the past to . 

be safe to mention. My problem with all this is that genealagl leaues o t so much and 

asks so few questions. Real liues are about so m ch more than a series of 'begats' and 

'begottens'. They are about choices made and not madr, political change, feelings and 

circumstance; The genealogies of museums, lihe those offamilies, are equally problematic. 

Thel tend to be u.,ritten from the inside, by museam peopb utho haue a uested 

interest in claiming a lineage and unblemished continuity. lVe haae all read tbe texx, 

the! tend to start uith the Greeh Muses take us through the Renaissance collections, 

genuflect at the Ufi.ci Galleries in Florence, the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford and 

the Britisb Museum and then rush on through a bngthy list of museums beingfoun- 

ded, nodding here and there as thry go at legisktion passed or agreements made, and 

breathlessl reach the present day and the tidy bh of text which says THE END. 

Other than giving us a slighr sense of connectedness 

with colleagues now long 

departed and pointing to those museums 

for which respect is seen as a professional 

requirement, I am not sure how far such 

genealogies take us. They are usually 

stripped of the kinds of questions and 

research which lead to understandins. 

They neglecr the polirical agendas of rh-e 

day, the cultural codes under which peo- 

ple operated, the ideas, merits and inadequacies 

of thosc who governed or ran 

them. Furthermore, the exoeriences anq 

opinions of visitors "re reguiarly orr.rlooked, 

as are those of the people whose former 

possessions on display. But, once we 

start looking at the primary sources, thinking 

about the contexts of provision and 

asking more penetrating questions, we discover 

that the histories of museums are

40 

GAYN o R KAVANAGH 

full of discontinuities, ruotures and failures. 

How can we think iican be otherwise? 

Look at museums today, they are so 

diverse, so contradictory in what rhey are 

and what they are doing. They reflect and 

embody a whole range of agendas, ideals 

and politics: so too do museums in the 

past, and,.to ignore this impedes our 

unoerstandlns. 

An alternat],re approach is to research 

not the hisrory of a single museum, collection 

or discipline, but the hisrory of 

museums within a particular period. In 

this way, we cannot avoid questions abour 

context and how the development of 

museum provision related to prevalent 

social trends and political artitudes. Such 

an approach discloses thar museums are 

not neutral places, nor are they without 

politics. Issues of class, gender, power, 

control and race are deeDly imbedded in 

the history of museums.' They hold rhe 

stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, 

and when the story changes - so do 

museums. 

I elected to research rhe history of 

museums during rhe Firsr Vorld Var for 

a number of reisons. One of them was 

that war exposes us for all that we are, all 

that we do, and all that we believe in. In 

particulat it tests the institutions and 

processes which are instruments of selfdefinition. 

It is little wonder that so 

many historical and religious places have 

been destroyed in Bosnia and Croaria - to 

change the polirical order, ro engage in 

genocide - necessirates the destruction of 

all those things which help people define 

themselves: museums are on this list. So 

if we look at the hisrories of museums 

during wartime we have a very stark view 

of them. Indeed, the view is so stark it 

strips away all the comforts of history that 

museum professionals like so much. \7e 

are faced with the fundamentals of survival, 

change, and revision and are forced to 

Iook at museums, whether in peace or 

wartime, with new eyes. 

One of the original aims of my research 

was to find out how museums survived 

the test of war, how they were used and 

how they contributed, and what was lost 

or gained by the experience. Ir was not 

enough just to consider what happened or 

did not happen in museums. I had to 

look at rzDT things happened the way they 

did, the causes and the consequences. In 

this paper I would like to concentrate on 

what I consider to be the results or the 

outcomes of the experience of rhis war on 

museums in the Britain. But first a little 

conlext. 

MUSEUMS AND THE FIRST TT.ORLD 

IVAR 

In 1913, Elijah Howarth, curator of 

Sheffield museums, had been able to claim 

that 255 towns and villaees outside the 

capital cities possessed -museums. His 

count included university and private 

society museums, as well as municipal 

ones. On the eve of war, therefore, most 

major towns and cities in Britain boasted 

a museum. A significant proportion of 

these had been esrablished in rhe previous 

two decades. By anyone's srandaids, rhis 

was a substantial growth in museum provision, 

of a kind not to be seen again until 

the,heady^days of museum expansion in 

rhe later 1970s. The museum boom of rhe 

1890s and 1900s lay the essential structure 

for museum Drovision in Britain. The 

provision of museums in the towns and

cities of Britain was a measure of the 

extent to which Britain in 1914 had become 

a primarily urban and industrial society, 

rich enough ro support museums and 

willing to entertain the idea that such 

institutions would benefit the populace, 

78o/o of whom now lived in rowrrs. 

On the eve ofwar, there was a pattern of 

museum provision, both at national and 

municipal levels, which had seen at least 

one generation of curators. The museum 

as a credential of civic status, scholarship or 

civilised nationhood still appeared ro hold 

good, if investment in museum developments 

can be mken as an indicator, although 

museums were beginning to slip 

from the agenda of liberal politics- In the 

absence of consisrenr inrerest from outside, 

museum develooment had come to 

depend to a gr€ar d;gree upon the skills 

and attitudes of museum curators. A 

number of leading curators were trying to 

shape museum provision so that it mighr 

make a contribution towards moral, technical 

or art education; although many 

curators saw their role as being solely concerned 

with the research and well-beine of 

rhe collections and had Iirrle coniern 

about the visiting public. 

The First li(/orld rVar changed everything 

and €verything somehow came to 

bear it mark. In its way, the war brought 

the nineteenth century to an end and dictated 

the shape of the wentieth century. 

Further, the exDerience of war affected 

people in different ways. In rhe armed 

forces, a person's rank, the theatre ofwar 

in which he or she had been placed and 

the momenr of involvement dictated in 

significant part the kind of memories held 

in later life. For those at home, whether 

working in munitions, on the land, in cle- 

MusEUMs rN BRrt AtN AND THE FrRsr\VoRLD WAR 

rical work or in museums, the memorres 

were of a different cast. Yet what bound 

most together was the proFound experience 

of loss. And the losses were exrreme: 

opportunities, hopes and dreams, ways of 

believing, and, of course, more than anything 

else - the lives of those known and 

loved. Perversely, the war also provided 

some positive gains, although even now 

these are hard to see, obscured as they are 

by the trauma of it all. 

Throughout the war years, museum 

curators, and those who governed them, 

had attempted to do the right thing at the 

right time. This was by no means easy. 

There were significant swings in both 

public mood and political necessrry 

during the four years of war, and what 

worked or was acceptable one year could 

be inappropriate the next. The responses 

made to the situation had to be carefully 

judged and in this museum curators were 

as much caught up in rhe train of events 

as were most people. The balance sheet in 

terms of what museums lost or eained in 

these years is nor easy ro lay out. This is 

partly because it is false ro see the four 

years of war as being totally disconnected 

from pre- and post-war trends; partly 

because there was no such thing as a united 

museum movement, where what was 

true for one was true for all. But some 

general and specific points can be made. 

MUSEUMS AND THE PUBLIC 

It seems clear rhat the position of the national 

museums in rhe public's consciousness 

became even more sicure. Arguably there 

was a deepening of the awareness of them 

as part of the appararus which underpinned 

a broad cultural idenriry. In the midst 

4r

42 

GAYNOR KAVA NA G H 

of the crisis, the Britishness of the British 

Museum and the National Gallery was 

keenly felt, especially by the middle classes. 

These museums became one of a set 

of symbolic standards in the midst of 

beleaguered nationhood. In later years, 

'S7inston Churchill was ale rt to the rmportance 

of the sreat museums for narional 

morale and in- the 1930s refused to allow 

the National Gallery's collections to be 

taken out of the country for safety's sake. 

Unfortunately, during the early years of 

the First $?orld \Var the importance of the 

national museums was not so readily 

recognised by the government who in 

1916 insisted on their closure as a lesson 

to the nation on the economies to be 

expected in war time. Moreover, in 1917, 

it was rumoured that the Air Ministry was 

about to take over the British Museum, 

thereby making it a legitimate target. 

Public opinion had been seriously underestimated. 

The campaign to keep the national 

museums open was spontaneous and 

pursued with vigour. It perturbed even 

the press, itself not given to anything that 

might suggest even the mildest of criticisms 

of Governmental decisions and wary 

oF anything that might 'rock the boat'. 

But in this instance the matter seemed clear: 

the decision to close the national muse ums 

was made for the wrong reasons, and the 

strength of public feeling had been underesnmateo. 

Yet, in soite of the national museums 

and galleriis in London being closed or 

partially closed from 1916 and the restnctions 

on the facilities available at a number 

of provincial museums, people were 

still disposed to visit those that remained 

ooen when thev could. Given that Britain 

*", .rrg"g.d in a total war, the visitor 

figures for this period were noticeably 

high and therefore worthy of note. The 

relative consistency of these figures suggest 

that in the capital cities and in the 

provincial towns, museums must have 

been providing something that people 

needed: intellectually, socially or personally. 

Admittedly, museums were noa universally 

adored, and significant social sectors 

may well have been indifferent to them or 

alienated by them. But, if anything the 

war may have, at least for a time, enhanced 

public attachment to them, by first 

threatening them with closure and worst 

still destruction, and second by giving 

them an opportunity to provide for the 

public in ways not considered before. 

In the four years of war, many museums 

became centres for exhibitions, although 

these varied greatly in content. Some 

exhibitions sousht to meet the mood of 

the moment, oal-r.., to press for a suitably 

positive attitude or simply impart what was 

seen as important information. V/hether 

about fleas, rats, feeding infants, growing 

potato€s, the plight of Belgian refugees, the 

weaponry of war, or the record of the war 

through contemporary paintings - all the 

exhibitions mounted had an underlying 

purpose: the war effort and its successful 

conclusion. ln terms of museum oractice. 

rhey provided ample evidence that museums 

could mount popular, instructive and 

socially usefiJ exhibitions that would be 

well received and well attended. Such 

work involved curators in organising a 

ranee of material in an instructive manner, 

working in co-operation with others 

and engaging in supporting educational 

activities. 

In rerms of rhe war efforr, ir is impossible 

to gauge the degree to which- such

g 

MusLUMs rN BRrr'ArN AND THE FlRsr WORLD \tr,{R 

vH6 PASS0AG 43 

"fllH!T,1fillf?[:11lf l',T,'J f " s H ew 

A NAsry oNu. 

THF PRrMF MrNrSripj Myes, mosr interesrirg in peacc 1:rnc. .Fult o{ an(ienr 

survivals rnd funny old relics of bygone tlmes, bur a mosr .xpcnsive and 

€xrravagatrt ruxury 'n trm€ of war, you Lnowt'. 

CoLo_NIAL (in London for the 6rst timc): ',/ #., Sh.. ,.,r t tik. th. It.ns! af 

(0 r"ns,.h?" 

Cartoon, 'The Passing Show', l2 February 1916. Source: Musetm Scrapbooh, BMNH G/L.

44 

GAYNoR KAVANAG H 

exhibitions fulfilled the intentions of the 

authorities which funded and encourased 

them. As has been seen, visilor figures-for 

some of these exhibitions exceeded all 

expectations. But just because large numbers 

of people went to see the exhibitions, 

it does not necessarily follow that a untform 

message was taken away by each and 

every single visitor, although the spirit of 

the thing may well have been consciously 

understood. Even today, when museums 

are equipped with a fairly sophisticated 

understanding of how visitors use the 

museum envrronment ano can, to some 

degree, test whether the intentions behind 

an exhibition have been successful, it is 

impossible to gauge precisely irc impacr. 

\7e now recognise that people, within 

their given cultural and educational contexts, 

freely make up their own agendas 

when visiting exhibitions, and will pick 

and choose what they want to be rnterested 

in, and how much or little information 

they take away with them. There is nothing 

ro suppose thar in rhis regard visirors in 

l9l8 were any differenr from visitors in 

1993. 

Suffice it to say that the confident belief 

that such exhibitions had been and were 

worthwhile, coupled with the educational 

work museums had develooed with schools 

especially in Mancheste! were enough to 

convince key figures in the Civil Service, 

Parliament and elsewhere that museums 

had a real educational purpose. The prewar 

rhetoric abour rhe educational and 

social potential of museums had been 

tested and found to have in it more than a 

grain of truth. The view evolved that 

ifter the war museums could be develooed 

ro engage more directly in educarional 

work and public service, but these propo- 

sals laosed in the face of curatorial indifference-and 

a failing post-war economy. 

However, what had been achieved was an 

important indicator that not only could 

museums cope in war-time, but that if 

appropriately employed, they could be 

both useful and advantageous on the 

home front, whether as pari of the counry's 

internal propaganda or as part of a 

search for rest and stabiliry. For all the 

faults, shortcomings and inherent dangers, 

museums between 1914 and 1918, whether 

as sites for exhibitions or as homes 

for collections had something to offer. 

MUSEUMS 

AND THEIR COLLECTIONS 

A development, which was to have long 

term benefits for museums, sprang unexpectedly 

from the risks ofwar. The problems 

of caring for ma.ior collections in 

such times, and especially the movement 

of collections to and from places of safery 

sharply focused attention on the importance 

and condition of the material held. The 

collecrions from rhe narional museums in 

London had to be removed in 1917 because 

of the increased risk from bombine and 

because all available soace was needid fot 

the administration of-the war effort. One 

of the places of safery to which museum 

collections were sent was a section of 

London Underground. This was used by 

the British Museum, the National Gallery 

and the National Portrait Gallerv. but 

unfortunarely was environmenrally unsuited 

to the well-being of most of the collections 

stored there. On the return of the 

material, a thorough audit was instigated: 

a cuneiform tablet once thought to have 

been lost was found. But ofgrearer signi-

War trophies at the 

Impeial \Var Museam, 

Cryxal Palace. Soarce: 

Imperial \Var Muserm 

ficance, as a result of the movement of the 

collections, the British Museum and the 

National Gallery rook sreps ro invesrigare 

the physical well-being of their holdings. 

This led ultimately to the founding of a 

scientific conservation deoartment ar the 

British Museum and leant considerable 

weight to the development of conservatr- 

MusEUMs rN BRrrArN AND t HI FlRsr \troRLD \WAR 

on facilities at the National Gallery and 

elsewhere. The new approaches to scrence 

in conservation successfully joined with 

the high levels of craft skill, which had 

been employed for some time in the restoration 

of materials. Better informed collection 

management at rhe nationals and, 

as the years progressed elsewhere, was a 

4>

46 

GAYNOR KAVANAC H 

result. The conservation techniques developed 

in Britain, ongoing scientific research, 

and ever grearer understanding of 

the imoortance of environmental conditions 

anJ handling procedules have resulted 

in Britain being a world leader in this 

field. 

The political climate was ready for the 

promotion of the scienrific conservarion. 

in oart at least because science itself was a 

beneficiary of war. It became popular and 

respectable in ways not experienced in the 

ore-war decades. As far as museums were 

ioncerned, the war gave ample opporrunrw 

for the science museums to Drove their 

worth. The collections, researih facilities 

and the exoertise of curatorial staff came 

into use in unprecedented ways. Research 

undertaken at the British Museum (Natural 

History), the Geological Museum and 

the Science Museurn contributed directly 

to the war effort. The reputations ofthese 

museums were enhanced as a result. Not 

only that, but in the post-rvar years, the 

heightened interest in science, amongst 

the public as much as official departments 

of state, ensured that these museums had 

a secured place. They adopted a positive 

attitude and were prepared to build on 

their success by expanding their seryrces 

and experimenting with their exhibitions. 

Compared to other museums, they weathered 

the difficult years of the 1920s and 

1930s relatively well. 

A MUSEUM OF THE WAR 

One of the oroducts of the war was the 

formation ol a tr.* national collection 

and museum: the Imoerial S?'ar Museum. 

Regardless of the peripective taken of the 

war. as an evil mistake. an heroic adventu- 

re or complex conjoining of bitter circumstances, 

it was a profound human experience 

and deserved an adequate and full 

record, No museum has ever been established 

withour some underlying political 

purpose. Sometimes if rhe subiect is an 

easy one (such as water-colour paintings, 

costume or vetefan cars/, tne purpose may 

be obscured and all those involved innocently, 

but falsely, claim their neutrality. 

But when the subject is hard (such as religion, 

industry or war), the political agenda 

can be more obvious. The founding of 

the Imoerial War Museum was one of a 

range oi iniriatiues taken ro maintain a sup- 

Dortrye atutude to the wat at a moment 

when the country cirme near to defeat. The 

all-imoortant immediate aim was balanced 

out bt the long-term goals of those directly 

involved with the museum. 

The adventurous approach adopted in 

the formation of the collections, and the 

comprehensiveness of record aimed for, 

ensured that the Imperial W'ar Museum 

would find a role once the war ended. 

From the art collection, consisting of 

works commissioned from most of the 

leading artists of the day, to the debris of 

the battlefields, love letters, formal photographs, 

and uniforms worn by women 

conductors on London buses, the collections 

give an astonishingly vivid view of 

the war. Although beset by difficulties in 

the 1920s and 1930s, the museum's collection 

became, and remains, a principal 

source of reference to those studying the 

war. The fortunes of the museum fluctuated 

over the decades with each shift in 

oublic tolerance to the id€a of war. It has 

imerged in the 1990s as a museum of 

international status, with well defined academic 

and educational roles. The com-

plexities of interpretarion and the balance 

between ponraying war as heroics and war 

as human experience nevertheless remains. 

MUSEUMS IN 

THE POST.WAR PERIOD 

Some post-war changes were unexpectedly 

enabling for museum developments. The 

shifts in world power, rhe continued rise 

of stronger centres of industrial and economic 

powers, particularly America and 

Japan, and the growing inability to cope 

with the demands of the Empire, resulted 

in a re-discovery of a domesric pasr. A 

regard for the countryside grew, as did 

enthusiasm for images of pre-industrial 

times: the view was often highly generalised 

and nearly always totally romanticised. 

Little wonder that in the 1920s and 1930s 

folk life collections and folk museums 

developed. Substantial progress was made 

in Scotland, W'ales and the Isle of Man, 

where collections were formed and records 

gathered. Such broad based museum 

archives are now of considerable importance 

in our study of the cultural configurations 

of these areas and the daily lives of 

the people lived in them. In England, 

progress was far less assured and more 

sporadic. The strength of regionalism 

and, of greater importance, the lack of 

political necessiry to define an English 

cultural whole, did not provide the conditions 

necessary for an English Folk 

Museum, In the absence of a national initiative, 

and for reasons mostly of their 

own, important regional folk collections 

were developed in a number of different 

locations in England. However, not until 

after the Second \florld Var, when the 

Empire was being dismantled, did the folk 

MusEUMs iN BRTTATN AND THE FTRST \7oRLD $i/A R 

life collection and museum become a common 

feature of museum provision throughout 

Britain. 

The war had an imoact on most forms 

of employment, including that in 

museums. \fome n came into curatorial 

work on a salaried basis. Some had to 

Ieave in 1919, but others did not and by 

the end of the 1920s, rhe idea of female 

museum curators was being accepted, although 

their subsequenr rise ro posirions 

of seniority in museums has been very 

slow. There were orher labour issues. 

During the wat museums especially the 

nationals and large provincial museums, 

became increasingly dependent on volunteers 

for tasks such as the packaging of 

collections for removal, with which the 

hard-pressed staff could not deal. The 

concept of volunteers in museums, either 

as helpers or as free curatorial labour, had 

been established in rhe late eishreenth 

century with the learned socieries"and was 

well developed in the nineteenth century 

in provincial museums. This did not 

change because of the war; indeed, if anything, 

ir was reinlorced by rhe war experience 

. Museums have always benefited 

from the talents and interests people elect 

to share with them. This form of oarticipation 

undoubtedly has had irs merits. 

But it has had many consequences for the 

development of professionalism and for 

the salary levels of museum posrs, especi 

ally in the provinces. Museum authorities 

could and did pose the question: if able 

volunteers could carry out museum work, 

at least adequately and often very well, 

what need was there for the recrurrmenr 

ofyoung talented staff, or improved salaries 

in line with responsibilities? 

Unfortunately, the war taught some les-

48 

GAYNoR KAVANAG H 

sons which had to be remembered. When 

in the mid-1930s, it became increasingly 

likely that there would be another war, 

regardless of the manifestly empry reassufances 

to the contrary, curators and 

museum trustees had the exoerience of the 

First Var to which they could re fer. They 

knew a great deal about the movement of 

collections to places of safety, the securing 

ofbuildings, the use of museum space for 

Govetnment and other departments, and 

the oossible roles of museums in rhe 

mainienance of morale on the Home 

Front. The Second World War was different 

in so many ways from the First, it called 

for a much sronger response and, if 

anlthing, even grearer endurance. In particular, 

the bomb damage was more extr€me 

and geographically widespread, and a 

number of museums were either damaeed 

or desrroyed. The British Museum a'nd 

the Tate were badly hit. Liverpool and 

Hull museums lost a substantial oart of 

their buildings and also major collictions. 

The Victoria and Albert Museum, on the 

wall near€st the entrance to the Henry 

Cole \7ing, still bears scars from the Blitz. 

It is impossible to calculate how much 

greater the losses would have been had not 

the museums been aware of the risks and 

taken appropriate action. If the national 

museum and gallery collections had 

rernained on view in London, ir is highly 

likely they would have been either 

destroyed or damaged. 

REMEMBERING 

So far I have outlined what mieht be seen 

as positive or enabling outcoi.res of the 

war exDerience. There were of course a 

numbei which were very negative indeed. 

Of the three ouarters of a million British 

men who lort ih.ir lives in the war, a very 

small number were men who worked in 

museums and who no doubt believed they 

would retutn to such work when the war 

was over. A number of museums, including 

the British Museum and the Natural 

History Museum, installed memorials ro 

their staff members killed on acrrve service. 

It is impossible to calculate the loss 

of talent this represented, nor th€ losses 

which accrued from the deaths of younger 

men who, once their universiry or technical 

education was completed, might 

have come into curatorial work. The Lost 

Generation could have made a world of 

difference had they survived ro experience 

the bulk of the twentieth cenrury, or so we 

tend to think. Of those that did survive 

the war, the scars were often as much on 

the personality and memory, as over rhe 

body. Healing was about much more rhan 

the repair of bone and bodv tissue. 

The dead had to be remembered in a 

way which was fitting and which helped 

the living grieve. Even before the war 

ended there were a number of oroposals 

about how this mieht besr be achieved. 

One of them involvid the suggestion that 

every ciry town and village should have a 

war museum. Even before the war ended 

in November 1918, this proposal was no 

longer taken seriously. Other ways of 

remembering were found: people needed 

the quiet dignity of the memorials and 

memorial gardens, and positive contributions 

to the lives of those left, such as 

memorial hospitals and recrearion 

grounds. The bioken bodies of ex-service 

men wer€ everylvhere to be seen, and the 

broken lives of those who had losr someone 

very close escaoed no-one. As time

went on people became less inclined to 

look upon the facts and mementoes of 

war. The Imperial War Museum filled certain 

needs as far as they went, but at local 

level rhings were differenr. In rhese circumstances, 

it is as well that local museums 

devoted to the war were not established. 

Not only would they have been out of tune 

with a nation in grief, bur also. more pracrically, 

the cost and the responsibility for 

their development might have resulted in 

the over-burdening of local authoriry 

museum services to the poinr of collapse. 

For the inter-war years, the local authorities 

had difficulty enough financing essential 

services such as children's education, Iet alone 

established mrseum services. Museums 

outside London managed to keep going 

somehow: the status quo was maintained, 

more or less. Howwer, there was simply no 

money for new museums and ir wouli'have 

been impossible to establish and sustain 

local war museums in such circumstanccs. 

In contrast, there was a very noriceable 

increase in the number of service, especrally 

regimenral, museums and collecrions. 

By the end of the inter-war period as 

many as fifty regimental museums were 

founded, although they were developed 

for a variery of reasons. The common 

factor, however, was rhar their purpose 

was not directed outwards to the general 

public, but inwards to the services' own 

needs. For some regimenrs, the exercise 

may well have been pragmatic; for others, 

much more deliberare and conscious. 

However, for the first time ever, important 

marerial was brought rogether lrom a variety 

of 'lodging' places and identified as 

worthy of rhe rype of care given in 

muse ums. The service muse ums, the 

majoriry embryonic, srruggled on as besr 

MUSEUMS IN BRITAIN AND THE FIRST \voRLD vAR 

they could well into the 1950s. In the past 

forty years, some have managed well 

enough, but orhers, perhaps the maioriry, 

have stagnated. This can be ascribed in 

prrt to th. fact that in the critical period 

of their early development, that is in the 

inter-war years, rhere was not sufficient 

political or social purpose to facilitate 

their growth and hence funds were not 

made available for them. 

CURATORS AND MUSEUMS: 

NEIVAGENDAS? 

In rhe early 1920s, wirh rhe economy in 

disarray and far-reaching social problems 

to cope with, the Government no longer 

had a place for museums, of any sorr, on 

their political agenda. A great deal of 

museum work in the war had indicated 

the potential of both well-thought out 

collections and exhibitions timed ro meet 

people's interests. Many people, including 

a number ofpoliricians, were convinced, 

but even rhis was not sufficient in 

such hard times. Established on the 

Victorian philosophy of self-help and the 

moral purposes of education, museums 

were left in the hands of underpaid, 

unrrained and ageing curarors. Cerriinly, 

there w€re people of calibre employed in 

museums; for example, from the war 

period itself Elijah Howanh, curator of 

Sheffield Museum, and Frederic Kenyon, 

Director of the British Museum, srand our. 

But there wer€ many, many others - weary 

men, in need of borh resr and rerirement. 

More than adequately conversant with the 

well-articulated philosophies of museum 

provision, a good part of which they had 

help develop, they had not rhe sramrna, 

the resources or the attitudes necessary to 

49

GAYNoR KAvAN Art H 

50 produce the form of provision needed in 

the 1920s and 1930s. A good proportion 

of museums survived the inter-war period 

in the relative securiry of stagnation, 

which the curators did little to disturb. 

The museums which prospered during 

this dme were those where relevant scholarly 

work was conducted and where 

efforts were made to interoret collections 

in inreresting ways. The Science Museum 

is a case in point. Here, much good, solid 

academic work was conducted and collections 

of importance were acquired. But 

the majority failed to shake off their reputation 

for being dusty places where dead 

objects rested. This did not go unnoticed. 

For example, a Board of Education Report 

in 1931, paid warm tribute to the richness 

and variity of museum collections, but 

pointed out that large sums of public 

money were being spent on them and that 

they were not being used 'as they could or 

should be in the service ofeducation'. 

Underlying this was the failure of curators, 

especially those who spoke on behalf 

of the majority, to grasp the importance of 

whar had been achieved in the war and to 

adapt the ideas and methods for use in 

peacetime. There was more than enough 

here to argue a convincing case for enhanced 

museum provision. But, instead, temporary 

exhibirions addressing currenr 

interests and public education were largely 

abandoned, there was a reluctance to 

accept fully the educational roles of 

museums) and an inability to see how the 

precedent of contemporary collecting at 

the Imperial lVar Museum might be adapted 

and used elsewhere. This inability to 

learn from the war exoerience set-back 

museum orovision "t " ii-" when it could 

be ill afforded. Several generations later, 

these ideas were discovered all over again 

and are in use today. 

In so many respects, the case for 

museums in the 1990s would be all the 

stronser had not momentum been lost in 

th" i920s. Adminedly, curators knew 

there was a problem, hence the efforts 

throughout the 1920s to establish some 

system of professional training. But much 

more was needed; in particular, op€n 

minds, a willingness to learn and an ability 

to see the world as it was: in a state of 

rapid change. Museums had proven their 

usefulness in the war, but in times ofpeace 

their purposes became much less certain, 

It took another war and a new generation 

of curators before different ideas 

were allowed to orevail. 

Galnor Kaoanagh ar larure t id Department of 

Museumt Sudies, Leicester Unioersity. Hon har bl a 

shriait bohen History Curatorship och redigerat flera 

att i nstitutio n ens s hrifi er. 

Adr: Department of Museum Studies, Univetsitl of 

Leicestcr, 105 Princess Road East, Leicester LEI 7LG, 

Enghnd, FAX +44 5jj 523960. 

NOTE 

This paper is based upon the text o€ the penultimate 

chapter in Musmms and tbe Fitst Vorld War 

which will be published by Leicester Universiry 

Press in March 1994. The author will be glad to 

answer any questions about thc sources used and to 

receive suggestions for alternative lines of research.

NoRDrsK MusEoLoGr |993.2, s- rt-60 

Tnp Gnnar EunopEAN MusEuu 

IGnneth Hudson 

Recently, I had to spend afew days in the beautiful Frenclt tou.,n of Dinard, which is a 

uery fne museum in itself I hope you noticed that I said 'museum,, not ,museum 

piece', which would haue indicated rhat Dinard is frozen in the past, with no useful 

part to plal in today s world, Dinard is not lihe that at all. h is a prosperous, 

attractiue, uell-maintained town, which has shown great sbill in adapting itself to 

changing social habix and in mahingfill ase ofits splendid location, on the Atlantic 

coast, facing St Malo across the estuary of the Rance. King E&rard WI loaed it and 

the modern boat-people loue it, and in both cases one can undzrstand uhy. 

\fhy do I call it 'a fine museum'? Partly 

because it preserves its past so admirably, 

partly because it is such a tempting and 

satisfactory place for sorting out and identifring 

the differenr layers in its manmade 

past, and for understanding the 

conrriburions which each decadi has 

made ro rhe appearance and functioning 

of irs streers and buildings and gardens. 

Undersranding is not a passive process. lr 

implies curiosiry personal effort, knowledge 

and a willingness to break away 

from conventional thinking. Suppose, for 

instance, that one is staying in a hotel of 

the modest 50-bed, two-star type, such as 

Printania, which had the privilege of 

accommodating me. A great range of 

interlocking questions came to my mind 

throughout my stay there. How much of 

the hotel furniture that surrounded me 

was there 50 or 100 years ago? How, if at 

all, had rhe armosphere changed? \7ould 

everything have been a good deal more 

formal in the Twenties or Thirties? Most 

of the people who were there with me in 

August 1993 were distinctly on the elderly 

side. \Zould ir have been rhe same in 

August 1933 or August 1903? Has the 

national mix stayed the same, with a lot of 

English, German and Dutch and rathe r 

fewer French? How do rhe food and drink 

today compare with what was available in 

one's father's or grandfather's time? Today 

all the rooms have bathrooms. How many 

bathrooms were there in the horel in 

Edwardian days? One on each floor, perhaps. 

rVhen was electriciry first installed? 

How superior would the accommodation 

and service have been at the four-star 

George V Hotel along the road? 

Every rype of building and every street 

stimulates irs own complex of quesrions. 

but one has first to asiume that, to the 

enthusiast, all questions are equally interesting 

and equally relevanr. lt is pure 

snobbery to think that Dinaro s ornate

enrering a building, leaving the outside 

world behind. \I(zith the Great Dinard 

Museum, the Great Moscow Museum, or 

the Great Swiss Museum, however, the 

circumstances are quite different. One 

enters the Great Museum, wharever rw 

boundaries may be, simply by being born. 

One is surrounded by its collections and 

displays all the time and one escapes from 

them only by moving somewhere else or 

by staying inside one's own house all the 

time. Membership of some parr of the 

Great Mweum is virtually compulsory and 

free, but this does not mean that everyone 

who moves around in the Great Museum is 

in a position to mke an intelligent, informed 

interest in what it has to offer, Most of 

its customers are vaguely aware ofwhat they 

are looking ar, ro fir rhe bits and pieces inro 

meanlngtul patterns. 

Several ciry museums in Europe - 

museums which set out to tell the story of 

a city in all its aspects - have a programme 

of guided ciry walks around selected areas 

of the ciry. These aim at bringing the city 

alive by means of on-rhe-spor interpretation. 

The museums of Barcelona and 

Stockholm do this particularly well, either 

by following a rheme or by concentraring 

on one particular area ar a time. During 

these tours, what might be called the normal 

or stereotype museum is doing its best 

to make a piece of the Great Museum 

interesting and to give those members of 

rhe public who take parr sharper and more 

widely-ranging eyes rhan rhey had before. 

Ofren. perhaps usually, curarive rrearmenr 

is necessary for a lifetime of bad habits, 

chief among which is the belief that one 

should give one's attention only to famous 

and therefore unrypical buildings. 

The Great Museums are not necessarily 

THE CREAT E U RoIEA N MUsF,UM 

urban. For many centuries man has been 

actively engaged in putring his thumbprint 

on the rural areas as well and it is 

evident rhar the man in rhe srreer is jusr as 

poorly equipped to make sense of the history 

of the countryside as of that of the 

towns. A little ruthless testing during car 

drives or train journeys through, say, 

England, Germany or France is likely to 

reveal that sadly few of one's fellow travellers 

have much, if any, idea of what crops 

are growing in the fields or whatjobs the 

tractor-drivers are doing. Few of them, 

also, can name common trees or distinguish 

between one breed of cow or anotlier. 

They are visually illiterate. \Vhat they are 

looking at means almost nothing to tnem. 

And if they cannot understand the 

countryside today, what point is there in 

trying to explain ro them the changes to 

which each field and villase have been 

subjected during the past 100 years or 

more, in what ways the cropping patterns 

and cultivation methods are different. whv 

fewer people are required to work the lani 

now than in previous generations, the 

ways in which man's need to earn a living 

has transformed rhe landscape generation 

afief genefatlon. 

TVHAT- MAKES EUROPE SPECIAL? 

It is interesting to try to identifr the factors 

which have combined to give Europe 

its special charcter, distinguishing it from 

all other continents. This amounts to 

asking why the Great European Museum 

is different from, say, the Grear American 

Museum or the Great Chinese Museum. 

One can and should break these big regions 

down further, The Great Eurooean 

Museum is made up of che Great Durch 

53

)4 

KE NN ETH HUDSoN 

Museum, The Great Spanish Museum, 

The Great Bulgarian Museum and so on, 

just as the Great Iowa Museum and the 

Great Texas Museum are among the ingredients 

in the Great American Museum 

pudding. The English person who is not 

aware of what makes England peculiar is 

not well olaced to understand the 

European mix of qualities. 

One can arsue for ever about the essential 

features Jf Europe, those which give 

the continent a flavour of its own. Here 

are some of the ones which se€m [o me ro 

be the most important. They can be 

added to and refined without too much 

difficulty. First, Europe is, on the whole, a 

gre€n continent, blessed with a substantial 

rainfall. Its surface area contains little in 

the way of deserts and droughts lasting for 

several years are rare. Second, and arising 

partly from its absence of extreme heat, 

Europe is an energetic continent, one where 

work can usually be carried on without 

undue exhaustion all day and throughout 

the year. \Tithout energy, technical and 

scientific inventiveness are unlikely to 

occur, and Europe has been a world-source 

of rechnical innovarion for a long time. 

It has produced, among orher n.-- id."r, 

the steam-engine, railways, the power- 

Ioom and the technique of smelting iron 

with coke, developments which combined 

to make the industrial revolution 

possible. For better or worse, Europe was 

the cradle of the Industrial Revolurron. 

Orher important and uni$,ing irems in 

the European mix have been Romanisation 

and the Latin language, Christian 

thinking and practice, and an interlocking 

framework of royal and aristocratic families. 

The Jewish contribution to European 

culture and economic erowrh has been 

very great. It has, unfortunately, been 

associated with widespread persecution of 

the Jews, on a scale not found elsewhere 

in the world. Eurooe has also been marked 

by great suffe;ing caused by wars, 

nationalism and power-drunk conquerors 

who had dreams of becoming masters of 

Europe. And, as a result of its energy and 

its technical superiority, Europe gradually 

acquired vast overseas possessions. From 

Roman times onwards, Europe created 

colonial emoires to an extent not matched 

by any othei continent. 

It was in Europe, too, that the first 

museums were born. Museums are very 

much a European invention, esrablished at 

first to allow royalty and aristocrats to 

show off the collections which their oower 

and wealth had allowed rhem to assemble 

and then as part of the process of public 

education. All the aspects Europeanness 

which I have mentioned are illustrated by 

museums. Ve have museums which show 

the achievement of Rome and of 

Christianiry Jewish museums, technical 

and industrial museums, natural history 

museums,, agricultural museums, military 

anq nayal museums, emprre museums, 

Napoleonic museums and transport 

museums. A high proportion of Europe's 

palaces and grand country houses have 

been turned into museums and the art 

collections of kings, dukes and princes 

have become public properry accessible to 

.L- ^---.^| ^..Lt:- 

'!7hat has taken place in every European 

counuy over the past two hundred years 

has been essentially a process of putting 

Europe's history into the safety of what 

are in effect cultural banks ol fortresses. 

where precious relics can be both presented 

and conserved, in an attempt to pre-

vent or ar least delay the destructive influence 

of time. The comparison with a bank 

or fortress is strengthened by the presence 

in the museum of alarm systems, warders 

(museum policemen) and fire protecrion 

devices. One could also use the .r /ord 

'island'. Museums are carefully defended 

islands in a turbulenr sea infested with 

sharks and oirates. 

The first serious attemDt ro break down 

the fortress mentality was made by the early 

ecomuseums, particularly k Creusot, which 

pioneered in the 1960s the concept ofa district 

as a museum. The ecomuseum was nor 

required to own its territory but to hold 

cultural power over it. "At Ir Creusot", said 

Marcel Evrard, its first director, "every rree, 

every cow, every building is an exhibit in 

the museum. I myself is an exhibit in rny 

own museum," The museum which really 

mattered at fr Creusot was therefore not 

the interpretation centre in the l8th century 

chateau but rhe area of countryside 

around it and everything it contained. This 

mighr be rermed the Great Le Creusor 

Museum, with its houses, farms, factories, 

workshops and people with family histories 

and memories. The primary objective of Mr 

Evrard and his colleages was to make the 

past and present of rhis area meaningful and 

interesting ro .he people who lived and 

worked in ir, to help them to discover the 

clues that would m"k better sense of it all. 

And that, I am suggesting, is what most 

museums should be doing. r*4rat is important 

is nor what is in the museum, but the 

power of irs collections and displays to 

increase and enrich people's understanding 

of the world oursidi ani around rhem, o? 

the Grest Museum. The museum which 

regards itself as a self-contained entiry has 

failed. 

THE GREA I EuRopEAN MusEUM 

From a museum point of view, I see every 

town, village, landscape, country and 

even conrinent as a Great Museum in 

which everyone can discover their own 

roots and see how they fit into the chain 

of human acriviries which stretches back 

over the centuries. Scattered over the 

Great Museum are the institutions which 

we have chosen to €all museums, demanding 

that their cultural importance sha-ll 

be recognised and insisting that they shall 

be given an ever-increasing supply of 

public money in order ro do what rhey 

conceive to be rheir job, that job being, to 

use the professional phrase,'acquisition, 

conservation and display'. This, one could 

fairly say, has been the motto of the miser 

throughout the ages and ir is, in my vieu 

a totally inadequate and discredited recipe, 

both for success and for public esreem. 

The real reason for a museum's exlsrence 

is to make life more interestine and more 

rewarding for its cusromers. bne could 

say exactly the same about a school or a 

church, neither of which exists for its own 

sake. 

THEMUSEUMASAN 

ATTITUDE.CHANGER 

A museum, like a school or a church, iustifies 

its existence much more for its success 

in changing people's attitudes than by 

adding to their stock of information. One 

or two examples will illustrate whar I mean. 

In Greece, Niki Goulandris was appalled 

by the fact that her fe llow-counrrymen 

appeared ro take practically no inrerest in 

wild crearures or in the natural envrronment 

as a whole. As in most other parts of 

the Middle Easr, the Greek atritude towards 

animals is at best indifferent and at 

55

)o 

KEN N ETH HUDSoN 

worst abominable. There are, for example, 

no guide dogs for the blind in Greece, 

because people refuse to allow them on to 

buses and trains. 20 years ago there was 

no natural history museum in the whole 

of Greece, so Mrs Goulandris and her 

husband decided to establish one, using 

their own money, ar Kifissia, on the outskirts 

ofAthens. It was large and designed 

to international standards and, once it was 

open, G reece had, for the first time, a 

National Museum of Natural History. 

Later, she set uD a branch museum on 

Corfu and a foristry teserve in the north 

of the counrry. Her aim was to inrerest 

children in natural history, and after a 

slow start, she has succeeded remarkably 

well. A eeneration of schoolchildren has 

no* groit.r up understanding why and 

how Greece should orotect its natural 

environment and takJ oleasure in observing 

and caring for wild creatures. Greek 

children are now keeping pets, a revolution 

in itself. The main point of creating 

the museum was to change children's attitudes 

and this is gradually being accomplished, 

and a new dimension is being 

added to the Great Greek Museum. The 

primary target was children. Greek adults 

were felt to be settled in their ways, too 

deeply conditioned - corrupted according 

to modern standards - by the habits and 

beliefs of their ancestors. 

Niki Goulandris has always regarded her 

museum as a working tool, nor as an insritutional 

end in itself and this, too, has 

been the view of another of Europe's great 

museum Dersonalities. Aleid Rensen- 

Oosting, the creator and director of the 

Noorder Dierenpark at Emmen, in the 

north of Holland. Her aim for more than 

20 years has been to establish a mus- 

eum/zoo which would illustrate the story 

of life on earth, and equip its visirors to 

take an intelligenr interest in wild creatures 

and to understand how man and animals 

can inhabit the world more satisfactorily 

together. The Noorder Dieren-park 

is where thev come - nearlv two million of 

them each year - in order to dwelop a 

modern, constructive philosophy and, on 

subsequent visits, to recharge their baneries. 

Aleid Rensen-Oosting has broken down the 

barriers between academic subjects and constructed 

exhibitions which approach from 

many different angles the problems and 

opportunities involved in building bridges 

between man and the natural world. 

Niki Goulandris and Aleid Rensen- 

Oosting have very similar motives and 

philosophies. They see themselves as missionaries 

who want to send people away 

from their museums better than they 

found them, beliwing that the Great 

Greek Museum and the Great Dutch 

Museum will be better olaces to live in as 

a result of their efforts-- In a comoletely 

differenr field, the Building of' Batl' 

Museum is trying to do something equally 

imoortant. Bath likes to think of itself as 

the finest of all Europe's l8th-century 

cities and there is quite a lot to be said in 

support of this claim. But the internatronal 

reoutation and tourist success of the 

city owes much to snobbery and to an 

exaggerated respect for architecture as 

such, especially Georgian architecture. 

The Building of Bath Museum represents 

an attempt to put the city's architecture 

and architects in their place. It emphasises 

that the carpenters, joiners, masons, tilers 

and olasterers were the real builders of 

Bath and that without their skills the 

architects, who have received all the cre-

dit, would not have been able to make 

their reoutations. The new museum therefore 

shows its visitors the tools, techniques 

and materials used by crafismen who, in 

the real sense, built Bath. After this introduction 

and re-emphasis. ir organises guided 

tours around the city in order to 

demonstrate the practical aspects of Bath's 

18th and early 19th-century buildings and 

to show how the archirects and the building 

tradesmen depended on one another. 

The tours, like the Museum itself, aim at 

arousing curiosity and ar providing people 

with a wider, deeper and more ciritical 

understanding of the buildings which they 

have often crossed the Atlantic to scc. 

There are many different ways of regarding 

towns, history and the countryside 

and one would certainly not want or 

exDect evervone to be interested in the 

same things. Vhat is important is, first, to 

recreate childhood curiosity and, second, 

to satis$/ it. Arr excellent illusnation of 

this process is to be found in and around 

the small town of Giippingen, near 

Stuttgart. Until the Nazis got to work, 

Giippingen had a substantial Jewish community, 

mostly living in an area on the 

southern outskirts of the town. There are 

no Jews left in Giippingen, but their houses, 

shops and workshops are still there, 

together with a former Jewish inn and a 

well-preserved Jewish cemetery. Recently a 

Jewish museum has been set up, in a 

suoerannuated Protestant church. The 

slight shock of finding a Jewish museum 

in a 16th-century Christian church is very 

useful, because the curiosity and interest 

of visitors to the museum are aroused 

from the rime they open rhe door. 

Inside the church, on both the ground 

floor and in rhe gallery. there is an- excel- 

THE (;R!^. EURo P EAN MusEUM 

lently conceived exhibition about rhe local 

Jewish communiry It is not built around 

generalisations about the persecution of 

Jews by the Nazis, but on the srory of 

what actually happened to individual Jews 

and Jewish families in Gtippingen, showing 

at the same time the place where each 

Jewish family had established themselves 

within the community. This is a museum 

about real Jews. 

Briefed in this way, one can take a walk 

around rhe town, looking at the houses 

where the Jews used to live and thinking 

about the people, who, in one way or 

another, gained possession of the property 

of the people who met their end in the 

concentration camps, about the present 

inhabitants of this part of Goppingen and 

about the days when Lhe local Jews were 

regarded and rreared as normal citizens. 

One can also walk around the beautifullymaintained 

Jewish cemetery, looking at 

dates and the names of families, noting 

which people were obviously grand anJ 

which more humble and observins when 

the traditional Jewish custom oF n.,r., 

burying males and females in the same 

grave began to be abandoned. 

It would be difficult to find a better 

example of how within-a-building 

museum can help to develop a better 

understandins of the Great Museum. Left 

to their own Jevices, how many visitors ro 

Giippingen or, for rhat matter, how many 

people who live there would realise the 

historical sisnificance of this street in the 

town or kn6w why the inn was called the 

King David? How many of them could see 

th€m iust as ordinary houses after learning 

about the fate of their inhabitants durins 

a visir in the museum? 

Information is most valuable, of course, 

57

58 

KENNETH HuosoN 

when it is available at the olace to which it 

relates. The best situati,on, I suppose, 

would be one in which each street had its 

history panel. I once stayed at a hotel in 

the Pyrenees, run by an elderly Englishwoman, 

in which each room contained a 

list, fixed to the wall by the light switch, 

of the international celebrities who had 

slept in the bed which I myself was later 

to occupy. The Queen of the Belgians, I 

remember, was one of them. To lie there 

in the knowledge that she had looked at the 

same ceiling that I was looking at was a curious 

exoerience. But in order to make such a 

powerful impression on the hotel guests, the 

list of one's predecessors had to be actually 

there in the room. Old visitors' books, keot 

downsrairs at the reception desk, would nLt 

have been at a.ll the same thing. 

'We are talking about ghosts and the 

evocation of ghosts is an extremely important 

element in the understandine of history. 

The art of interprering the Great 

Museum consists to a laree extent of helping 

one's .orr,.-por"r'i., to call up 

ghosts from the past. The ghosts are 

necessary in order to bring history alive. 

In Giippingen, the true function of the 

Jewish Museum is to give today's people 

the wish and the power to feel the presence 

of yesterday's persecuted and murdered 

Jews when they walked through the old 

Jewish quarter of the town. In the hotel in 

the Pyrenees, the list of names in the 

bedroom made it oossible to see the 

Queen of the Belgians doing her hair at 

the dressing table by the window. 

Three years ago, one of my favourite 

museums, the \Women's Museum in 

Aarhus, out on a marvellous exhibition 

which bridged the museum and the city in 

a most interesting way. There was a large, 

building-by-building model of the principal 

shopping street in Aarhus. The history 

of every building had been carefully researched 

in order to show during the l9th 

and 20th centuries, who had owned and 

run each shop. From rhis information, it 

was then possible to discover how many of 

these shops and what kind of shops had 

ever been run by women. The next stage 

was to construct a mock-up of a number 

of the interiors of these shops, using wherever 

possible original material from the 

shop. The effect was extraordinary. Visitors 

to the museum were unable to look at the 

street in the same way again. They had, in 

effect, been given new eyes ald a new attrtude 

to history. This, of course, is what the 

museum feels its mission to be, to encourage 

and help people to see Danish history from a 

womal's point of view, to interpret the environment 

in a different way. 

THE MUSEUM AS A MARRIAGE 

OF HEAD AND HEART 

Providing new eyes with which to see and 

understand familiar things is, one would 

have thought, the prime duty of every 

museum, as of every educational institution, 

but it is, alas, a duty that by no means 

all museums appear to accept and welcome. 

There are, I believe, two things which 

make so many museums sterile and, in a 

real sense, dead. The first is that museums 

are thought of primarily as intellectual 

places, where the primary appeal should 

be to the head not the heart. The second 

is a corollarv and a conseouence of the 

first. Museums are staffed by ,oo -"ny 

scholars and too few poets. Scholars as we 

know, are people who mistrust the emotions, 

pride themselves on ob.jectivity and

whose education and trainins cause them 

to krow more and more abiut le"s "nd 

less. Poets, on the other hand, are essentrally 

irreverent, uncontrollable people, who 

instinctively sense and rry ro pur inro 

words the relationship berween superficially 

incongruous ideas, objects and evenrs. 

They have retained and cultivated the 

child's ability to be curious about everything 

and interested in everything. They 

do not see life in terms of facts and they 

tend to be imoatient with those who do 

and are often contemDtuous of them. The 

best museums, in thi sense of the most 

effective museums, are those which contrive, 

either by accident or as a result of deliberate 

policy, to employ a fruitful mixture 

of the two rypes ofperson. But this is rare. 

By tradition and as a result of snobbery 

and oressure lrom orofessional associarions, 

ihe scholarly temperament and scholarly 

habits have come to dominate the 

museum scene. I am convinced that this 

has to change, although I would admit 

that the situation is better in some countries 

than in others. 

Vhat is gradually bringing about a 

change is, firstly, an increasing shortage of 

money - scholars are expensive people to 

employ - and, secondly, the need to increase 

the size of the museum-going public. 

'What I have called the poetic approach is 

much more likely to achieve this than the 

scholarly approach, precisely because a 

great many more people in any country 

are governed by their feelings than by 

their intellecr. One could express rhis in 

another way by saying that in order to 

transmit facts and ideas it is necessary first 

to build an emotional bridee across which 

they can cross. Nobody ever learnt anything 

from a teacher they disliked. 

THE G RnAT EURoPcAN MUsEUM 

The Great Museum is inescaoablv a 

museum wirh a very large public. Thar 

public is certainly not homogeneous and 

to satisry it and get it to appreciate the 

museum demands very special skills and a 

rerhinking of rhe role of the museum-ina-building. 

What are nowadays termed, 

not always accurately, communiry museums 

mark a move in the right direction, 

but, in my experience, they usually have 

too limited a view of their field of action. 

The real problem, I believe, lies with 

fine art museums and museums of ethnography, 

both ofwhich overemphasise their 

value as institutions and react very strongly 

against any suggestion that the concept 

of the Great Museum has anything to 

offer them. They can see oossible links 

between natural history muieums, museums 

of industry and technology and 

museums of the applied arts on the one 

hand and the Great Museum on the othec 

but they seem, to themselves, to inhabit a 

wodd aDart. I believe this vicw ro oe 

unnecessarily conservative and pessimistic. 

The artist's raw material is the world of 

the Great Museum. It cannot be anywhere 

else, unless he is working solely in partnershio 

with God. The an museum's 

business is to show how the artist has distilled 

his experience of the Great Museum 

and it can succeed in this only by making 

constant forays into the Great Museum 

outside. It is quite possible that the days 

of the traditional kind of art museum, the 

museum that earns its living by hanging 

pictures on walls, are numbered. One is 

tempted to say, 'and a good thing too'. 

The modern, worthwhile function of an 

art museum may consist much less of 

accumulating closely guarded collections 

and much more of broadenins the taste of 

59

60 

KEN NETH HUDsoN 

the inhabitants of the Great Museum, rn 

encouraging and helping them to put pictures 

into thek homes and in monitoring the 

results, in going to the people, in fact, rather 

than in expecting the people to come ro 

them and to revere tleir .judgement. The 

temple approach is long outdated. 

Similarly, any ethnographical museum 

in Europe which deliberately follows a 

come-and-see-our-exotic-wonders oolicv 

is commitring suicide, quire unnecessarily. 

'S7hatever the situation may have been a 

hundred years ago. rhere is no country in 

Europe today which does not contain a 

variety of non-Europeans among its population. 

These people, their homes, their occupations, 

their habis, their physical characteristics, 

their wals of amusing themselves, 

their religious beliefs and practices are iusc 

as interesting and just as worthy of study 

and display by museums as the characteristics 

and customs of yesterday's black, brown 

and yellow people in their original habitats, 

which still form the staDle diet of most of 

Europe's ethnographical museums and 

museum de-partments. For them, as for the 

art muse-ums, their future succ€ss musr 

depend on their willingness and ability to 

push their fingers into rhe ethnic communities 

aro-und them in their own counrnes 

and to acr as interDreters and mediators 

with these communities. The waves of both 

white and non-white immigrants that 

Europe has somehow managed to accommodate, 

if not absorb, during the present 

century constitule an imporranr part of the 

Great Eurooeal Museum. 

;t 

flnally, I should ltke to otter you a 

depressing story, told in order to illustrate 

that there are some Europeans who need a 

little education in the matter of the Great 

European Museum. Ten years ago, when 

the Soviet Union, which we all miss so 

much, still existed, I happened to be 

attending a conference in Helsinki. 

During a break in the proceedings, I was 

taking a walk around the city in the company 

of a lady who was the director of 

what I had better call a larse arr museum 

in Moscow. We had reachel rhe scuare rn 

Fronr of the old Parliament building, where 

there are starues of a couple of i,ussian 

Czars. 'Ah', I said to the Ruisian lady, 'we 

are surrounded by the ghosts of the old 

Russian province of Finland. I can feel 

Russians here and I am sure you can too.' 

- 'I don't understand what you mean', she 

said, 'there are no Russiarx here!' In the evening 

we were invited to dinner on the island 

of Suomenlinna, where there was a fortress 

and a rather unpleasant prison in Czarist 

times. 'No Russian ghosa here either?' I said 

to her, as we stepped ashore from the boat. I 

got much the same reply as before - 'I don't 

beliwe in ghosts', she said, 'not even Russian 

gnosts. 

The main purpose of the Great European 

Museum is to help people to raise 

Europe's ghosts from the dead, to believe 

in them and to make friends with them. 

Kexnctb Hudson, ualhand och hontroueltieU firfattare, 

fireltsare och debattiir med en nrirmast enEkhpe- 

disk hunshap om oA .drns mueer. Sedan 1977 leder 

han arbetet i den kommittl nm dckr ut det drliga 

europ eis k a museip riset (E MYA). 

Adt: EMYA, PO Box 913, Bixol BS99 5ST, 

England. FAX +44 272 7j2437.

MuspuMS, PATNTTNGS 

AND Hrsrony 

Krzysztof Pomian 

NoRDISK MUSEoI,oGI 199 3.2, S. 61.72 

'Today's maseum is permeated utith history. So much so that the general public and 

probably the majority ofboth museum curdtors and, historians seem to considzr the 

connection between museum and history an obuious and a necessar! one. Yet, ifue 

look at the past of the museum and at that of history, ue discouer that during the earfir 

centuries of the museum's existence they had nothing in common with one another. 

Hotu did the conjunction of museum utith history come into being? Hout d.id the 

museum adapt itself to dffirent rypes of history: to uniuersal bistory to national histo- 

ry, to local bistory? Hou did history become auare of the importance of museums for 

the study of the pa*? And how did the museum become aware of its outn historyi These 

are tlte questions includtd ander the headline Museum and History. I cannot discass 

them all. I shall concentrate on onh one ofthem and euen this one utill not be treated 

exhaustiuely. 

I 

In contradistinction to a private cabinet, a 

museum is a collection which belonss not 

to a physical person bur ro some -rno.al 

entity. It is preserved in an interior allotted 

solely for this purpose, it is ordered 

according to criteria whose validity is 

recognized by a communiry and ir is open 

to the public on a regular basis. Museums 

corresponding to this description appeared 

in Italy at the end of the 1 5th century. 

From the end of the 17th thev slowlv 

spread across Europe. Bur until the seconi 

half of the 18th century museums, as well 

as private collections, did not know anything 

whatever about history. 

However in the ma.jority of cases, they 

indeed arranged the objects, which were 

exhibited so as to give pleasure to the eye. 

Paintings were hung so that the frame of 

one bordered the frame of anotner. composing 

a kind of tapestry in which one tried 

to harmonize subjects, figures and 

colours. Sculptures were placed either so 

as to form groups or, in galleries, in lines 

along walls but always so as to achieve the 

best visual effect. lnttrurnentd and small 

objects were grouped according to their 

appearance and the same treatment was 

applied to shells and other products of 

nature. Even coins were classified more 

often than not primarily according to the

62 

KRZYSZToF PoMIAN 

metal from which they were rninted. Only 

within this framework, were they ananged 

according to the dates ofissue- 

Certainly from the beginninB there were 

some objects, the display of which took 

chronology into accounr. So it was with 

the busts of Roman emperors and empresses 

where one tried to Dreserve the order 

of succession. In the 17th century with 

rhe progress o[ numismarics rhe learned 

classified their collecrions of coins according 

to the authoriries under whom they 

were issued, these authorities, in any 

country or ciry being in turn placed in 

the order in which they succeeded one 

another. Similar attempts were made in 

differenr ftalian cities with inscriorions 

concerning their past. Bur all this did not 

have much to do with history. For coins 

like inscriptions pertained to the province 

of antiquarians. A-nd antiquarians were 

not historians because chronology despite 

its imporrance was nor yer hisrory. just as 

history was not yet rhe criticism of those 

remains ofthe past which enabled the historian 

to distinguish the true ones from 

the false ones and as history was not the 

study of the origins of collected objecs 

nof a reconstruction based on the rmases 

they carried of ancienr .u.n,r, aaraaonilr, 

rituals, beliefs, customs and rnanncrs, 

weights and measures, erc. 

In as lar as it is concerned with the distant 

past, i. e. the past which cannot be 

remembered by a historian, the past which 

lies before his birth, history always deals 

with invisible objects. But these objects - 

events, pefsons, institutions, manners, etc. 

- which are invisible ro a hisrorian, arriving 

a long time after them, were nevertheless 

visible to those who were their 

contemporaries. There is therefore a fun- 

damental difference between these objects 

on the one hand and on the orher obiecrs 

such as the Arr, rhe Roman Empire, the 

society or the civilization, humankind, 

France or Germany, the nation, the people, 

the bourgeoisie or the working class, 

etc. The latter phenornena are indeed 

invisible as such, because nobody under 

any conceivable circumstances can see 

them or perceive them otherwise, unless 

we believe in extrasensory perceprion. 

One can retort thar such invisible 

objects are not real. To answer would be 

mntamount to starring a philosophical 

discussion in which I do not want to be 

involved. I do not here adopt a posirion 

on the reality of rhese invisible objects. 

My only point is that the realiry of one or 

other of them is tacitly admitted by any 

author who is writing a history of it, in so 

far as he is aware of the difference between 

history and fiction. This is the case of 

\Tinckelmann who wrore a history of the 

Art in Antiquiry, of Gibbon, historian of 

the decline and fall of the Roman Emoire. 

of Robertson when he described the oro- 

gress of ot society socrety in rn Europe, iurope, of ot Guizot Lrulzot when w 

he taught the history of civilization ln 

Europe and France, to giYe only a few 

examples. 

In general, since the l6th century, hand 

in hand with the affirmation of its soecificiry 

and with iLs rransformarion fiom a 

branch of literature into an academic discipline, 

history tries more and more to 

reconstruct the changes in objects which 

are invisible as such and to describe these 

changes following the order of chronology. 

Here Iies the essential difference between 

history and antiquarianism, the latter 

trying only to reconstruct objects 

which are now no longer visible, but

which were visible in the past. Hence 

another difference berween anriquarianism 

and hisrory is thar rhe lormer is constrained 

to deal with a multiplicity of 

objects which can be ordered only according 

to some external criterion like the 

alphabedcal order of their names or the 

order of rheir appearJnce in space or in 

time, while the latter can refer them all to 

the invisible objects which it describes, so 

as to treat rhem as its manifestations and 

therefore to uni$' them and to order them 

by virtue of some intrinsic principle. 

How can a historian pass from a set of 

visible objecrs he is dealing wirh ro invisible 

ones he is interested in? This is the 

central problem of historical method even 

if practising historians are not always conscious 

of it. Three solutions to this problem 

must be mentioned here. 

In the first, the history of the invisible 

objcct, which the historian wants to study, 

is given to him by tradition or by common 

sense and/or is discovered through 

the speculation of theologians, philosophers 

or jurists; so it was with the Roman 

Empire, with civilization or with entities 

like England or France, nation or people. 

Once such an object is given, the historian 

has to find sources whose contents or features 

show their relevance for this particular 

object and their usefulness to the 

reconstruction of its successive changes. 

Such was the practice of French and 

English historians in the 18th and the first 

half of the l9th century, until the time 

when the intellectual leadership within 

history as an academic discipline passed to 

German schools of history. 

The second solution is proposed by hermeneutics 

primarily as the art of understanding 

texts and larer also any inrenrio- 

MusriuMs, PAlN rtNGs AND HlsToRy 

nal human product; this art, partly application 

of rules and partly a divinarion, 

enables a historian studying sources which 

are ar his disposal to recreate in his mind 

the state of mind of their author. The latter 

is always an individual. But not only 

Homer or Raohael are authors. Alexander 

the Great or to an even greater degree 

Caesar are aurhors roo and the same is 

true of such collective individuals as 

Rome, Germany or the Renaissance. 

Hermeneutics was the most imporrant 

conrribution of German philology and 

philosophy to the theory and practice of 

hisrory. Ir made of hisLory a Gcisteswissenscharfi. 

And ir lay behind rhe achievemenrs 

of Droysen, of Mommsen and of Ranke, all 

their differences norwirhstandins 

The third solution is ptoporJd by statistics 

which enables a historian to use the 

counting of visible objects and calculations 

with the quantitative data so obtained 

in order to arrive at some invisible 

object. To take the simplest example: you 

cannot meet an average Dane. But an average 

Dane is neverthe'iess a real berng: you 

can describe his food consumption, his 

sexual behaviour, his oolitical attitudes as 

expressed in his votes and in his answers 

to public opinion polls, etc. Such an invisible 

objecr as France, which may be considered 

as given by tradition or as an individual 

for whom one can ascertain the 

inner states rhrough hermeneurics. may 

also be defined by a set of statistical data. 

\7e have here three different obiects 

wirh r he same prope r name. Objecrs like 

social classes. economies, public opinions, 

etc. are typical objects normally hidden 

from the view but made explicit by the 

use ofstatistics. As a study ofsuch statistical 

obiects, to which it turned in the last 

63

64 

KRZYs zror PoMrAh* 

decades ofthe 19th century, history became 

a social science. Max Weber in Germany, 

Simiand in France, Ashton in England 

or Beard in the United States played 

a particularly important role in this transformation 

of the practice of history which 

affected at the same time its epistemological 

status. 

The word history therefore refers to 

practices and theories of history which are 

so deeply different from one another that 

they opposed each other in the course of 

memorable debates. In the first decades of 

the 19th century proponents of hermeneutics 

undermined the traditional idea of 

history. And at the end of the 19th and 

the beginning of the 20th century promotors 

of history as a social science questioned 

rhe very idea of it as a GeisteswissenscD4f. 

Now these different ideas and practices 

of history have a direct relevance to 

our subiect, because any one of them 

implies a different attititude on the part of 

the historian towards museums and of 

museums towards history. 

In 1764, Pierre-Jean Grosley, a French 

financier and writer, published a book of 

observations on Italy and Italians made 

during his ravels in the early 1760s. He 

describes among other things the cabinet 

ofAbbC Jacopo Facciolati in Padua, where 

ne saw: 

.... a collection as rholarly as it it singuhr. h is a series 

of piaut* which, so to spcalz, ttaces thc history of 

painting tincc itt Rmtirancc in Extope. It commences 

uith Greeh paintings, the imitation of which formed 

the apptmticeship of the t,ery frst painters in ltalt 

Thq dtpia Madonna copied in a base fathion, uith 

no taste for drauing the aidity and pktinde oftheir 

exceution matcbing in euery ud! that of the mdely 

illuminated uood-block print ou ?edtdntt use to 

decorate tlteir h*ts, This art d.euelops linh b1 little in 

the folhuing painters, and arter Giotto, Mantegna 

and the Bellinit ue fnallt come to Raphael and 

Titian,,, 

Facciolati's collection was not the only 

one of its kind, at least in Padua and 

Venice. Nor was ir the oldesr. It is cuite 

orobable thar the man who created the 

example ot a collecflon ol prctures concelved 

and arraneed so as "to trace the history 

or palnung Slnce lts Kenalssance was 

Carlo Lodoli, a Franciscan, architectural 

theorisr and educator very influential in 

Venice in matters of taste and who was 

also a friend of Facciolati. According to 

his biographer, Lodoli 

.... decided to fotn a nllection which coald be diferent 

fom those to which we are acmttomed, but perhaps 

more usefil in the belief that picwres should 

thow each stage ofthe progression of the art ofdrawing 

fom its Renaissance in hal as fat as Tiian, Raphael, 

Concggio, Buonarotti and Paolo Vtonae... 

In the 1770s and 1780s, after the publication 

by Anton Maia Zanetti the younger 

of his book on Venetian painting, we find 

in Venice several collections which follow 

the examoles of Lodoli and Facciolati. 

John Strange, the British resident in 

Venice from 1774 to 1790, formed a collection 

of oictures of which we are told 

that it was la storia visibile della oittura 

Veneziana and in which the 'orimitives' 

occupied an important plate. Later 

Girolamo Manfrin, a businessnran 

.... opcned a gallzry comprising seue,al rooms flbd 

uith painings b1 the most re ounet! artuts, rangtng 

from the uery earliest painters to thtse of the pfttent 

day he had hoped, protiding death did not stribe him 

too soon, to d^pla! uorhs fom diferext peio& according 

to their dffircnt schools and datet so that ue

might lecognize at a glnnce thc faabt and splendou\ 

ofthit att throaghout tbe diferent peiods. 

These quotations have already been referred 

to in my book Collectort and. Curiosities. 

I come back to them now, because I 

could not discuss there the full range of 

changes produced in rhe arc collecrions by 

their 'hisroricizarion', if such a barbaric 

word may be allowed. The first of these 

was the arrangement of collected objects - 

picrures. draw.ings or prints - according to 

lhe order of chronology or. in orher 

words, according ro periods and dares. 

This new arrangement affected the display 

of any collecion to which it was appied. 

It modified the imase of such a collection 

taken as a whole as'well as rhe expectarions 

with which one had to approach it 

and the standards by which one had to 

.judge it. An important step in this direcrion 

was a requirement for some order, 

whatever it may be. It expressed the growing 

discontenr wirh rhe display consisting 

of the succession of beautiful coups 

d'oeil, which, in the course of the l8ih 

century, was perceived more and more 

often to be simply meaningless. Listen to 

the Prdsident de Brosses who describes the 

gallery of the Duke of Modena which was 

eventually to be sold to the King of 

Saxony and incorporated into his gallery 

at Dresden: 

This i certainly the most beautiful galhry in ltaly not 

because it is the most namerous but it i the best hept, 

the best distributed and the best decotated one. It h 

not th* hotch-potch of pictares one upon another, 

mixed uithout order, withoat taste, without fiames 

and withoat spacc in beween, which stuns the sight 

withort satisfiing it. Yet tu ;t is thc mox ofen in 

Rome at Juttiniani't, Abieri's and ekewhere. Here 

euerything is selected. Picnres are in small numbers in 

MusEUMs, PAI NT tN cs AND Hls t oRy 

euery tuom, sryerbly fancd and displayed without 

confuion ox damash hangingt which bing them out 

well; thE are distributed in gradation to thdt uhcn 

Jto enter .t neu room you fnd there more beautifvl 

piecet than i the preuiots o e, 

De Brosses here criticizes the traditional 

display of paintings intended to compose 

a beautiful tapestry but which he sees bnly 

as a 'horch-porch'. rVhat he is looking for 

is order - any order, but order. S"o in 

Modena he is happy to discover one. Not 

the order of time-wearein 1740-bu;.an 

order based on the progression of beauty 

which increases as the visit Droceeds to 

reach a culmination ar the very end of it. 

He is also looking for rhe choice of paintings 

which was less important when one 

wanted ro compose a tapestry out of rhem 

but which becomes crucial wlrcn every 

painting is looked ar and appreciared for 

its own sake. In Modena the oreference is 

accorded to artistic qualiry or,-ifyou wish, 

to beauty over number. This shows that 

there is a connection beetween the rype of 

order introduced inro a collecrion ani the 

criteria which preside over the choice of 

objects considered as deserving the 

honour of beins included in ir. 

And indeed,- from what Groslev savs 

abour Facciolari's collection ir appears rhat 

it included paintings which according to 

18th century standards of artistic quiliry 

were valueless. So much so rhat Groslev 

not only stresses their ignorance of dra'wing 

and their rudimentary execution but 

even compares them with prints used by 

peasants to decorate their huts. Yet, in spite 

of his negarive judgemenr of rhise 

Madonnas, he does not deny that they are 

legitimately presenr in a collecrion inrended 

to show the progress of painting not 

o)

66 

KRZYs zro F PoMTAN 

with r€sDect to some eternal scale of beaury 

as in-Modena, but parallel to and as we 

may assume also produced by the passage 

of time which appears henceforth as oriented 

towards the improvement of all 

thinss human. 

Thlt there is a divergence berween what 

we usually call aesthetic criteria and those 

of hisrory has been well known since at 

least the l6th century. Accordingly some 

objects were considered valuable, not 

because of their beauty, but because, while 

being strange if not ugly, they were relics 

of ancestors, testimonies of their bizarre 

taste. It did not follow from this that such 

objects may be introduced into a collection 

composed not of curiosities but of 

works of art. Only when objects have a 

value for historical reasons and objects 

which are valuable because of their beauty 

are put on an equal footing; and when the 

relation berween them besins to be conceived 

as that of a progrJssion from the 

former to the latter, which unfolds itself 

with the passage or time, can we safely 

affirm that we are dealins with a collection 

arranged in conformity with the historical 

principle. Such was obviously the 

case of Facciolati's collection and some 

other collections of paintings in Venice 

and Padua from the fifth decade of the 

18th century. 

An essential intellectual prerequisite of 

rhis integrarion of rhe hisrorical perspective 

into collecting was the thinking about 

the history of painting as if it was the 

development of an individual from his 

binh ihrough adolescence and maturity 

until the age of decay. Such an idea was 

not new; as far as universal history was 

concerned, it was rooted in the tradition 

of Aususrine and in a secularized form - 

in which history is the development of an 

immortal. if not an infinite individual - it 

laid the very foundation of the idea of 

progress. But in the collections I alluded 

to, it could not but be implicit. And it 

was still implicit in the history ofVenetian 

painting published in 1771 by Anton 

Maria Zanetti the younger. Yet seven years 

earlier another book had appeared which 

was to have an incomparably greater 

impact on dilettanti all over Europe. It 

was \Tinckelman n's Geschichte der Kunst 

des Abernms- 

The importance of it for our subject 

cannot be overstated. \Tinckelmann was 

indeed the first to transform the study of 

ancient art, until then the province of 

antiquarianism, into history in the sense 

that I have tried to describe. We find in 

his book the idea ofArt - with a capital A 

- as something which can be grasped not 

so much by the eyes as by the mind, this 

invisible entity becoming manifest in the 

masterpieces of great artists. But the capacity 

to produce masterpieces which express as 

fully as possible the very essence ofArt does 

not depend only on the gifted artist himself. 

It is also necessary for him to live in 

his own definite period of history and in 

his own specific country. For Art, as 

'STinckelmann understands it, develops 

like a hurnan individual and its development 

is conditioned by the natural environmenr 

as well as by polirical instirutions. 

Ancient Art, whose childhood was in 

Egypt, attains its maturity in 5th century 

Athens and later enters into decay. 

But Vinckelmann succeeded not only 

in giving a new content to the idea of Art 

and to its history in Antiquiry. He also 

introduced a new approach with respect 

to Art. Instead of limitine himself to

external descripaions and ro technical analysis 

as did Caylus, he tried to arrive at the 

recrearion of the state of the soul or of the 

mind of ancient artists and of their contemporaries 

in order to grasp rhe masterpieces 

of ancient arr from the inside. In 

other words $Tinckelmann was the first to 

conceive of a hermen€utics suitable for rhe 

Art and ro use it ro study irs pasr. Ir is 

true thar his hermeneurics was more akin 

to divination than to scientific method 

and that his book for this reason sometimes 

was nearer to poetry than to history; 

he was criticized for this almost immediately 

after his death. Indeed, to \Vinckelmann 

an aesthetic and a historical ooint 

of view did not have the same validiw: the 

latter was subservienr ro rhe former. 

Nevertheless history extended with him 

over the field of Art or, if you wish, the 

Art was included into a history. The way 

was opened for the entrance of history 

also into the art museum. 

ilI 

In the catalogue of the imperial gallery at 

the Belvedere in Vienna published in 

1784, Christian von Mechel oresented it 

as "a deposit of the visible hisiory of art". 

This formula which we already mer in a 

Ve netian context, merits a brief comment. 

For what it insists uoon is the difference 

between rhe hisrory as displayed in a priyate 

cabinet or a museum and the history 

about which we can only read and which 

is therefore an invisible history. And it 

implies the superiority of the former over 

rhe latter. In the Belvedere gallery paintings 

were arranged in accordance with 

the chronology and wirh rhe division inro 

'schools' corresponding to different coun- 

MUSEUMS, PAI NTI N G5 AND HIsToRY 

tries or, in ftaly, to differenr arrisric centres.The 

gallery was then an equivalent of 

the book telling the history of painting. 

But it was superior to any book becausi, 

making possible the direct contact with 

original masrerpieces, it put before the 

sighr of the beholder rhe past and the present 

of this art. It enabled him ro see rrs 

history. 

'!?hen in 1792 the opening ofa museum 

in the Louvre was at last inscribed on the 

agenda of the French government and 

scheduled for August 10ih 1293, one of 

the problems to be solved concerned the 

principle of rhe arrangemenr of paintings. 

This was one of the focal points in the 

bitter barrle of polemics fbught by rhe 

famous Parisian arr dealeG Jean-Baptiste- 

Pierre Lebrun, against Jean-Marie Roland, 

then Minister of the Interior in charee of 

the museum. The documents relared to 

this polemics were recenrly reprinted with 

a remarkable commenr by Edouard 

Pommier. I follow in his footsteos. 

The position of Roland is contained in 

the letter he sent on December 25th l79Z 

to the commission responsible for the 

organization of the museum: 

A musexm is not exchtsiucly a pkce of sadics. h it a 

Jlouerbed which m*t bc rcattered tuith thc most brilliant 

cohurs. h has to interest the dilettanti uhile at 

the same tim. amusing tbe simple uisitors ('les curieux'). 

The m*seum is euerybody s properry. Euerybodl 

has tbe right to enjoL it It n Tour duty n prt this 

enjoyment, at mrch a you can, at the ditposal of e*- 

rybod1. 

Lebrtn's MJlexiow sur le rnasium national 

dated January 14th 1793 may be considered 

an answer ro this. Indeed. expressing 

his idea of the museum, Lebrun itates in 

Darticular: 

0/

tt 

K RZ Y5zro F PoMIAN 

All paintings mast be arranged following the order of 

schools and the! m*.tt point o t, b! the ,ery Place 

*signed to them, dffirent epochs of the infancl, of the 

progress, of the petfection and fnafu of the decal of 

'We assisr here at the clash of two principles 

concerning the organization of the art 

museum: the age-old principle of the 

tapestry - or, as Roland says, of the flowerbed 

- of paintings is attacked in the name 

of the historical principle tacitly backed 

by the examole ofVienna and the authoriry 

oi Wrnckelmann. Koland dld not mention 

this principle. But he certainly had it 

in mind when he opposed studies to pleasure, 

for the studies he is speaking about 

could not be those ofpainters who come 

to the museum to copy masterpieces. It 

could only be those of antiquarians and 

other people approaching paintings from 

the historical perspective. This is corroborated 

by Roland's translation of the opposition 

of studv to oleasure in terms of a 

social divisiol between the dilettanti and 

the simole visitors. because we know that 

painters were for him not just the dilettanti 

but even more: the true connois- 

seurs. 

When Lebrun is speaking only about 

the arrangement of paintings Roland sees 

it as connected with the purpos€ of the 

museum and the definition of its oublic. 

For him, rhe giving up of rhe principle of 

the tapestry of paintings, would be tantamount 

to the disappearance of the pleasure 

visitors have when gazing on pictures, It 

would therefore jeopardize the accessibility 

of the museum to everybody, limiting 

irs public only ro dilettanti. The position 

of Roland is therefore not so consetvative 

as it seems. What he defends as a good 

minister of a revolutionary government is, 

as he says himsell the museum as evelybody's 

properry the museum as open and 

pleasanr to everybody. This is the requirement 

a display of paintings must satisry in 

order to be acceoted bv him. But this is a 

requirement of no importance to Lebrun, 

seeing the museum from the point ofview 

of the connoisseur. 

After Roland had resigned, his successor, 

Dominique J. Garat, who also inherited 

the task of opening the museum on the 

scheduled day, wrote ro the commission 

on April 21st 1793: 

You hare to inqrire uh*her we bate to choose the Estem 

of difercnt s&oob, that of the thtonological and 

progressiue history, tbat ofgenres, that of styhs or tbat 

ofa sinpb picnresqae uariety ofcxriosities or of cus 

(\impb uri&l pittotesqre de atiositl ou dc cotp 

d'oeil). 

The commission answered June 17th in a 

long report of which the principal sentence 

was: 

Tlte atangement ue haue adopted is that ofan infni- 

tely uaried flower-bed ('L'arrangement que nou aztoas 

adoptl est celai d'un parterre de fleurs uaril t l'inf' 

l1i'). 

'$7irh such an arrangement of painrings 

which was a posthumous victory for 

Roland, the Louvre was opened to the 

Dublic. Later Vivant-Denon who was its 

iir."to, fro- 1802 until 1815, imposed 

rhe classificarion of paintings according ro 

different schools. And so it remained until 

1848. 

At the beginning of the fifth decade of 

the l9th century the artistic and intellectual 

climate in France was completely different 

from what it had been during the 

Revolution. The art of the Middle Ases

was henceforth recogniz€d as having not 

only a historical value due to its being a 

relic of the national past, but also an aesthetic 

value as an example of beauty at 

which rhe moderns musr look for inspirarion. 

This promorion of medievai art 

received its final consecration in 1844 

with the opening of the Musle de Cluny 

after the National Assembly had bought 

the collection of Dusommerard. At the 

same time, the lasting popularity of the 

historical novel and the deep influence 

exerted on a general opinion by the 

romantic historians resulted in the atrainment 

by hisrory of a digniry it never had 

before. In 1852, in the preface to his book 

on Averroes, Renan declared: 

The distinaiae featne ofthe 19th cenaty is the reph- 

cement of the dagmatic mcthod uith the historical 

method in all sudies conerning the human mitd, 

(...) History is ixdeed the neeessary form of the scientc 

of euerytbing uhicb i nbmincd to hus of taiablc 

and succesiue life. The dcnce of langaages i thc history 

of languager The science of litcranret and phih- 

sophies is the history of literataret and phihsophics. 

And the science ofthe human mind is, let mc repeat, 

the history ofthe human mind and not only thc ana$si 

of mechanisms of the indiaidual soal. 

In the same year, 1852, Benjamin Guirard 

published an articl€ on the Louvre which 

he had recently visited and which he left 

very dissatisfied. Anything but an average 

visitor, Gudrard was one of the most distinguished 

French historians of the 

Middle Ages, famous for his editions of 

medieval documents, member of 

I'Institut, the most presrigious French scientific 

body, and professor ar the Ecole 

des Chartes, then as today a nursery of 

historians, keepers of public records, librarians 

and museum curators of the hiehesr 

MusouMs, PAINTI NGs lnp Hrs r ory 

calibre. He seems to have addressed his 

article to readers professionally interested 

in museums as he published it in the journal 

ofthis school. 

Gudrard went to the Louvre for the first 

time since the revolurion of 1848 and he 

did not recognize it: 

The reuolution abo lzf its imprint on the pahre of 

he says at the very beginning of his article. 

And he explains what is new: 

In tbt pax the paintiags wete clartfed according to 

schoob, something I aas alrealy not very happy uith. 

Now thcy are elanfed according to schools as uell at 

to chronobgicat ordzr, a thing uhich teems to mz to 

hat an execrable efect. Mcn of learning lihe chssif- 

cations and euer|body mutt lik. them uben science is 

contemed. But here the case i different If tbe classif- 

cation hdt th. adr4ntage ofpxning before the eyes thz 

entirc bittor! ofpaint;ng ix any contrT and of being 

uery useful fot tlre fttcdrel) of end;tzs and eun of 

4rtitts, it * faulry u);th respect to the art an,y' harrnful 

for the public. One cannot indeed arrange .1 muvum 

lihe a librury or a cabinet of gcohg. For the great 

majority ofpcrsont uho dsit the Lonre the principal 

probhm thq expcct that the adninistration will sobe 

is hou to pleat and to moue; to educate is onll secon- 

dary. Tbese pcrsons cannot therefore accept the ryttem 

which rcmpletell sacrtfres thc arr ro rhe sciene. 

Sixty years after Roland an eminent professional 

historian is exhumating the idea 

of the superiority of the arrangement of 

paintings according to aesrheric crireria 

over the one which proceeds from a historical 

perspective and he justifies it by the 

respect due ro the public. But Gudrard has 

other arguments too. He contends that 

.... all essential hws of art are obaiously uiolated 

becaase of this double geographical and historical 

arrAngement. And it b not only to the general sight 

that the scientifc reqairement inflicts injury, it is abo 

69

70 

KRZYSZToF PoMIAN 

dnd pimaib to the cfcct of anf pdinti g in particlr- 

lar. As the ncighboaing ?aintings ale not rehted on 

to a other, inttead ofpatting themselues mutual$ forward, 

they munal$ depfc.iatc th.mteluct. 

Gudrard therefore propos€s the replacement 

of the andngement of the schobr by 

the arr/tngement of the artist- How should 

it be done? According ro him, the Louvre 

is now composed of rwo muse ums in one: 

it is the museum of art and thc museum 

of archaeology. Yet, as he says 

.... beauty does not tolerate blending and the public 

who comes to see it, it dcceiaed when one is showing to 

him, uith the beattiful, abo things which are only 

oA. 

It follows that the Louvre must be divided 

into two different museums. In that of 

art, one has to place all masterpieces, ancient 

and modern, which are objects of 

admiration. And in that of archaeology 

it uill be poss;ble to ttady Egptian, .Assyrian and. euen 

Mcxican monaments, eoen if I beline that tlrc kttar 

do not yt deserue the honotts ofa pahce. 

Only provided that such a division is achieved, 

it would be possible to solve the problem 

of the arrangement of masrerpieces, 

To do rhi one has ro imaginc that all ?i.tur.t wcrc 

painted at tbe ume place, in the same time and by tbe 

same hand. Then onc uould displal them all exclusiue$ 

for the greatest delight of tbe eles and of the ima- 

gtntlt on, 

One cannot be more clear. \J(/hat Gu€rard 

is advocating here is the visible relarion 

between paintings which involves their 

subjects, compositions, colours, drawing, 

etc., and which manifests itself in their 

similarity or their conrrasr, in their nearness 

or their remoteness. This relation 

immediately grasped by the eye is destroyed 

when rhe proximiry of one painring ro 

another is determined by the relation between 

them which consists in therr orovenance 

from the same Deriod or thi same 

place and which is invisible unless one 

assumes that their common provenance 

imposes upon paintings some common 

features. If one lool$ on paintings with 

this assumDtion in mind. one sees rheir 

affinity as Jue to their common origin. Or 

rather, one attaches to signs of such an 

affiniry more importance than to exclusively 

visible references of one painting to 

another which from this perspecrive appear 

as superficial and accidental. But such 

an attitude reouires the admission of the 

legitimacy of an historical approach to art. 

And this was exactly whar Gudrard was 

struggling against. 

One does not need to say that this combat 

d'arrilre-garde was lost. But the problem 

did not disappear. In 1987 when the 

Mus6e d'Orsay was opened in Paris, the 

critics of it attacked in oarticular what 

they believed to be a coniession made to 

history ro rhe prejudice of aesrheric criteria. 

It was this time the display in Orsay 

of painters who were indiscriminately disparaged 

as pompielt by influential representatives 

of the 2Oth century avant-garde. 

fu with rhe passage of rime. rhe opinion 

of the avant-garde acquired the digniry of 

an aesthetic norm, any deviation from it 

was considered inadmissible. Yet the painrers 

qualified by the avant-garde as pompiers 

werc very different not only from the 

historical but also from the strictly artistic 

ooint of view. The label was indeed atta- 

.h.d to .onuentional academic oainrers 

and producers of tirillating nudes, as well 

as to realists like lules Breton and other

painters of rural lif€, or symbolists like 

Puvis de Chavannes and Gustave Moreau. 

The staff of Orsay did take care to distinguish 

among these alleged pompiers good 

and important artists ro be put on display 

and it stressed the difference between their 

worlc as bearers of aesthetic values and 

the specimens of the official art of the 

Third Republic which it was decided 

should be shown only as historical documents. 

This norwithstanding some critics 

perceived the new image given by Orsay 

of French l9th century art as an illegitimate 

intrusion of history into matters of 

taste and as an outrage to the a€sthetic 

canon allegedly valid forever. 

IV 

The enrrance of rhe hisrorical perspecrive 

into the museum of European paintings of 

the modern era makes up only a part of 

the story of its entrance into the museum 

of art, which makes only a part of that 

which describes the impregnation of the 

museum with the historical approach to 

the most different objects it is interested 

in. And this story in its turn makes only a 

part of that of the changing relations berween 

the museum, which during the last 

two centuries of its existence lived 

through several metamorphoses, and history 

as at first the branch of literature, 

later also a Geisteswissenschafi and at least 

in addition a social science. I cannot tell 

these stories here. I only want to stress 

that what I have outlined is incomplete 

and Iimited. 

Instead of general conclusions which 

would be unjustified under these circumstances, 

let me set forth some final 

remarks. As I said ar rhe very beginning, 

MustuM\, P4tNTtNGs ANI) HIs f oRY 

the present day's museum is permeated 

with history. But this does not mean rhat 

the historical perspective exclusively determines 

the arrangement of the objects displayed, 

even of painrings. because it 

depends also upon the decisions of persons 

who leave their collections to the 

museum provided that their integrity or 

some presentation which corresponds to 

their wishes will be oreserved. So if we 

take the circuit pioposed oy some 

museums - particularly great museums - as 

a whole, we somerimes find inside it spaces 

where objects are organized according to 

very different principles and which therefore 

preserve a history of the museum 

itself and of collections it is an heir to. In 

Orsay for instance there are, included in a 

historical arrangement, collections of Chauchard, 

Moreau-Nilaton, Mollard, Personnaz, 

Gachet, Max and Rosy Kaganovitch. 

An historical perspective which the curators 

most often adopt when they have a 

free hand, does not in a unique way determine 

the arrangement of objects they are 

dealing with, even of paintings. One may 

or may not distinguish among them different 

schools or currents, but one may also 

decide to show the evolution of some genre, 

say the still-life or of the landscape, 

despite this being done rather in temporary 

exhibitions. And if one has to display 

different rvoes of works of art or different 

human proiuctions, one may choose, so 

to say, to tell many different stories with 

rhem either pucring together paintings, 

sculptures, jewellery, furniture, fashion, 

etc., in order to make the visitors aware of 

their interdependencies, or, on the contrary, 

showing changes of any rype of these 

objects isolated from others. In any case 

an arrangement once adopted is destined 

71

72 

KRZYszroF PoMTAN 

to last a long time simply for material and 

financial reasons. MusCe National d'Art 

Moderne in Paris was rearranqed after 

rwenty years of exisrence. AnJ in the 

Louvre some 'temporary' arrangemens of 

paintings installed in rhe late 1960s survived 

for almost a quartet of a century. 

They are only just beeing modified now. 

\Thatever the imDortance of the historical 

perspective, as Tar as the museums of 

art are concerned, the aesthetic principle 

is never completely abandoned. It expresses 

itself in the choice of objects put on 

display. And in rhe set of operarions 

which contribute to the imposirion on 

objects of an artisdc hierarchy. Such a role 

is played by the spacing of them; as a 

general rule the greatest masterpieces, if 

they are not alone on their walls, arc seperared 

by a good disrance one from anbther. 

Such a role in rhe case ofpicrures is 

played by their frames which are often, to 

quote an l8th century catalogueJ "propordoned 

ro their merit". But any curator 

knows this much better than I do, because 

this constitutes an important part of his 

art of solving the problems he is confronted 

with. 

One of these is the problem of relations 

between museum "rrd history. It does not 

belong to the past. It is still with us. And 

it concerns not only historians and theorisrs 

of museology, but also curators in 

their everyday practice. 

KrzysztofPomian, flosofoch historiker rid Eolz dzs 

Hattes Etudes, Pail Medarbetare i tid.shrifien 'h 

dlbat'. FArfature till bl a 'Collectionneurs, amateurs 

et curieux. Paris, Venise 16e-I8e silcle' (1987). 

Adr: Ecole det Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociaks, 

Centre de Rcchcrches Historiq*7 54, Bouleoard 

Rastail, F-75270 Palh Cedex 06. 

L]TTEMTUR 

Pr€sident de Brosses, Zettret d'halie, ed. Frederic 

d'Agay, Paris 1986, t- ll, pp.471-72. 

Philippe de Chennevitres, Soutnin d'un Directeur 

dzs Beaax-Arts, Petis 1885-I889, 2nd part, pp. 

86tr. 

Benjamin GuCrard, "Du MusCe du Louvre", 

Bibliothlqae de l'Ecole des Chartes, 3td. series, vol. 

4, \852-53, pp.70-77- 

Jcan-Baptiste-Pierre l-e Rruq RCferiots ttr le 

Mttstxm national, 14 jantier 1793, td. Edowrd 

Pommier, Paris 1992. 

"Orsay vers un autre XIXe silcle", special issue of /r 

dlbat, 44, 1987 . 

Krzysztof Pomian, Collcctors and Curiosities. Pais 

and Venice 1500-1800. Cambridge 1990. 

Krzysztof Pomian, L'ordre du tempt Paris 1984. 

Edouard Pommier, Cd., lYinckelmann: h naissanrc 

de l'histoire de l'art ) I'lpoque dcs Lumilres, Paris 

199t.

Tup Locrc oF THE 

ConpcrroN 

Boris Grols 

In our cubure 'serious', 'autonomous', art is produeed primarily to be eollected. Unlihe 

in the pax, it is no hnger conceiaed as an element ofa temple, a church, a pakce or a 

functional, public space. It is euen possible to argue that the modern notion of 'art'is a 

resub of the emerging of the modern museum in the lSth centur!. The historical 

museum didn't collect art bat rather produced it through displaying the ueryt heteroge- 

neous objects which utere used in manl dffirent - sacred, political, rit*al, dzcoratiue 

etc - tuals in their original cubural contexts inside the unified and secularized space of 

the aesthetic presentation in the museum. 

The conscious production of art as art rn 

the modern senie of this word besan to be 

possible only after rhe crearioi of rhe 

museum's neutral, purely aesrhetic space 

of display. This modern art production 

can be understood as an expansion of the 

collecting strategies in the realm of rhe 

profane and unspectacular. The historical 

museum collected the already established 

cultural values and at the same time 'devaluated' 

them from the highest religious or 

'life' values into art. The 'Museum of 

Contemporary Art', or 'The Museum of 

Modern Art', or 'The Museum of 20th 

Century Art' etc. is collecting the profane 

objects of the everyday life or of the socially 

deviant, but as not valuable regarded 

pracrices, and'revaluares' them into art. 

In this way the modern museum creares a 

universal space of historical companson 

which allows us ro pur in rhis comparison 

NoRDrsK MusIoLocr 1993.2, s.73-86 

our own present and possible future. The 

modern art production can be seen as 

such a self contextualization of our own 

modernity inside the museum space of 

universal historical comparison. 

I 

The modern art is in fact destined from 

the start for the isolated, 'autonomous' 

space of public or private collecrions. In 

this way, art output today differs considerably 

from all other modern forms of production. 

All our other products arc rargeted 

ro be consumed within the frame of 

our economy. But to consume means at 

the same time to destroy. A piece of bread 

is eaten and afterwards it does nor exrst 

any more. A car is driven for a while and 

then it is considered to be physically or 

morally outdated and is scraped. Maga-

74 

BoRrs GRoYS 

zine articles or scientific treatises are read, 

digesred and then forgotten in their original 

form. If you want to give an account 

of the respective information, you do so in 

your own words. The text as an object is 

also consumed, annulled and destroyed at 

the moment that it is digested. 

By contrast, a work of art is not consumed 

as an object, but rather preserved: It 

may not be eaten, used or completely 

understood. Firmly established convention 

Drotects the work of art from material 

disappearance, from the exhaustion in the 

process of using it as information, or from 

definitive dissolution in the variery of 

interoretations. Of course, works of art 

are not only worth something in ideal 

terms; they are also worth something in 

terms of money. Therefore, all works of 

art are goods as well, but they are not consumer 

goods. They are rather collectors' 

goods, and for that reason they are subject 

ro another kind of economics than the 

economics of consumer markets. -What 

right does a particular work of art have to 

be collected and preserved if this right 

does not spring from its actual market 

value? t*4rat other ideal criteria, if you 

will, does the work of art have ao meet in 

order to make it worth collecting? 

There are as many answers to these 

ouestions as there are theories of art. But 

"ll .h. "n.-.tr 

that I am familiar with 

have something in common: they look for 

the criteria of the collection value beyond 

rhe collection itself. rhar is to say in another 

outer rediry however that is to be 

understood. It can be claimed, for example, 

that a work of art should be valid for 

eterniry to merit permanenr preservarion - 

in a collection, in which case it should 

embody everlasting beauty, superior quali- 

ty, the divine, the human, the formally 

and qualitatively perfect, the sensible, the 

qeomerrical, rhe passionate, rhe natural, 

t-he unconscious, tie erotic, the linguistic' 

the socially critical, the democratic, and, 

as far as I am concerned, the everlasting 

deconsrructivistic as well. But all these 

answers are very problematic because if a 

work of art embodies in itself something 

everlasting it would be superfluous to preserve 

it additionally. It would rather make 

more sense to care for something that is 

fragile and morral. For that marter. a piece 

ofbread, an old car, or an outdated piece of 

news could also be collected and preserved 

as works of art so that, as a consequence, 

they are transferred to another kind of economics. 

The ouestion about the reason for 

preservation iJ actually only avoided when 

it is answered with the remark that the 

respective work of art is in itself already significant 

and worth preserving. 

lr has furrher been claimed that particularly 

in modern art the decision about 

what a work of art is worth has become 

unrestrained, arbitrary and subjective. 

'!7hat is collected is that which pleases the 

individual who has emancipated himself 

from all oreconceived criteria of worth. In 

practice, however, rhe collection is not 

tased on oersonal or even social taste. We 

collect and consider works of art as valuable 

which seem to be important, relevant 

and significant to us - and not necessarily 

those that we like. The art of the avantgarde 

in particular has theoretically called 

into question the primacy of personal and 

social taste and practically abolished it by 

showing that a work of art can be particularly 

capable of being collected and valuable 

when nobody likes it - including the 

artist who oroduced it. the curator who

ought ir and rhe sociery who paid lor ir. 

Finally, rhere is always rhi recurrinq 

attempr ro comprehend rhe collecrion as i 

represenrarion of space in which different 

periods, cultures, nations and recently - 

under the influence of the 'ideoloey'of 

polirical correcrness' - all orh.r poiribl. 

things rhar are differenr are aesrherically 

represented as well. Consequently, a coilection 

begins to look like'an expanded 

version of a democraric parliamenr. The 

major problem with this theory is that the 

particular thing that is socially, politically, 

ethnically or sexually 'differenti does not 

necessarily produce another kind of art 

that may be distinguishable ar the aesrhetic 

level from all the other works of arr in 

the collection. Ir is quire possible - and 

indeed it does,frequenrly happen - rhar a 

worK or att whlch ts meant to reDresent 

aesthetically a specific social group becomes 

general, rrivial and indisLinguishable 

irseli And rhat means rhar rhis work ofarr 

cannot properly carly out its function of 

representation. The social, exrernal difference 

does not guarantee an internal, artistic, 

aesthetic difference. An 'authentic' work of 

art can possibly prove to be totally banal, 

conventional and, in this sense, suDerfluous 

lor the collecrion. The pluraliv of rhe arr 

phenomena is not to bi attributed to the 

pluraliry,of the social groups that rhey are 

supposeory represent|ng. 

The difficulties wirl these and other comparable 

answers have led to a certain state of 

perplexiry in which current art rheory finds 

itself ar rhe momenr. My proposal would 

therefore be ro rry ro finj a"way out of rhis 

perplexiry by seeking rhe crireria of value 

for the collecting and preserving of worlts 

of art within thicolleciion and In keeping 

with the collection's immanent loeic ra- 

'l'HE Locrc or 'rHE CoLLfcrloN 

ther than looking for them outside the collection. 

A work of art is not collected when 

in external realiry it has proven to be important 

and valuable in this or that respecr, bur 

rarher only when ir meers the inrernal crireria 

of the collection itsel( Just a5 a prcrure 

today is nor a picrure of exrernal iealiry, 

neither does the art collection as a whole 

merely represent external realiry. 

II 

At first glance such a proposal conrravenes 

the main intention of the modern trend in 

art. As a matter of fact the modern artist 

protests primarily againsr rhe power of rhe 

collections and rhe collectors - and. above 

all, against the power of the museums 

which- are-consranrly compared wirh graveyards 

ol arr in rhe pamphlers of rhe 

artisric avant-garde, and ihe museum 

curators_wirh gravediggers. The srruggle of 

the modernisrs againsr rhe museum's historically 

traditioial, defunct convenuons 

of art were considered in the context of 

the avanr-garde ro be a struggle of life and 

death - as a protesr ol rhe presenr against 

the defunct tradirions of-the past- that 

have found rheir place in museum collections. 

The logic of the collection was therefore 

understood to be rhe logic of death, 

deathly logic; resisrance againir ir was ro 

be the foremosr dury of eviw viporous arr. 

The internal presupposiiion" for this 

sruggle against the museum collection 

was the conviction that the museums 

acclaimed and collected only the art that 

conformed to the traditional criteria of 

artisric design and qualiry. A new original. 

Innovauve arr was by conrrast considered 

to be an alternative and, above all, 

independent, art which enabled the artist 

/)

a 

BoRrs GRoYs 

ao express himself and articulate the time 

in which he lived. The museum was looked 

upon as an institution whose cultural 

predominance prevents such an independent, 

original, vivid articulation. 

In realiry the situation is exactly the 

reverse. V4rere collecting is not done, it 

actually makes sense to remain faithful to 

the old, to follow tradition, and resist the 

destructive work of time. And so in the 

past Homer's poetry was learned by heart 

because it did not propagate anlthing else. 

Or new works were commissioned in the 

traditional style because old works of art 

were constantly destroyed. But if the old is 

collected and preserved in museums, replication 

of the old sryles will become superfluous 

and it will no longer be worth the 

while to oreserve them in the collection. A 

surplus o? the same texts or pictures in the 

same collections will not be needed. 

'Where Homer's poetry is written down 

and disseminated, there won't be any need 

to write like Homer. And if the traditional 

works are preserved in museums, there 

won't be any need to replicate their styles. 

The museums of the 19th century were 

from the start aesthetically very heterogeneous, 

and this was especially the case at 

the end of the century. They contained 

the most diverse examples of European art 

of the different periods as well as Chinese, 

Japanese or Egyptian art. Th€re wasn't 

any uniform tradition which could have 

been conformed to. On the contrarn the 

internal structure of museum collections, 

where every historical period was represented 

by an aesthetic style only for itself, 

exacted the oroduction of such new historical 

styles. The historicist logic of 

museum collections itself called for a different 

innovative, alternative art in order 

ro exoand these collections- The avantgarde-was 

from the beginning the answer 

to this demand because a traditional, imitative 

art had no more any chance to secure 

a olace for itself in museum collections. It 

had become redundant. 

In this sense the avant-garde - despite its 

energeric rhetoric - realized rhat its own 

pr.rJrrt *", an already defunct present 

dorninated by museums - a historically 

self-contained. aesthedc stvle which was 

supposed to take its place in a historic, 

museum comoarison of all times and all 

styles. The atiempt to aesthetically represenr 

the present and even rhe future, just 

as the Futurists wanted to do, led to the 

development of the dvnamic of an avantgarde,'which 

because of its increasingly 

pluralistic diversity could no longer claim 

an exclusive right to representation, A 

single avant-gardist style could no longer 

function as an aesthetic signifier of its 

own time. For the first time in history the 

rePresentation of history was no Ionger 

discovered post factum, but rather freely 

invented. Historical styles of the past have 

historically developed without reflection. 

They first had their importance as an aesthetic 

reoresentation of the historical in 

the contixt of the museum of the lgth 

century. By contrast, the art of the avantgarde 

was produced from the beginning 

with regard to its potential position in the 

space of the historical comparison. The 

avant-garde began ro develop its artisric 

actiyity in deliberate opposition to the art 

of the past in order to aesthetically structure 

the oresent and the future. The 

m.,s.,rm r"or.r.ntation does not follow in 

this century any more a spontaneously 

and temporarily self-contained aesthetic 

development. This representation rather

precedes such a development, first enabling 

rhis developmenr and determining its 

course. The new art is not compared with 

the old post facrum, rarher rhe comparison 

takes place before the emergence of 

the new art - and virtually produces this 

new art, The art of the avant-garde is consequently 

a product of a coirparison in 

the museum - that is also the reason why its 

forms are so diverse, for rhis comparison 

can be interpreted in many differenr ways. 

. Thus,. from. the beginning, avant-gardist 

lnnovalton clo not atlse as an exDfesslon 

of spirired arristic freedom, bui rarher 

under the constraint or even oppression 

imposed by the collection. The artist had 

to produce the new to be included in the 

collection. This constraint was ar first 

camouflaged by the rhetoric of artistic freedom, 

although some shrewd observers at 

the time had already sized up rhe situarion 

correctly. The identification of freedom 

and innovation is indeed very nalve, 

Freedom consists in being ar liberty to 

produce the old as well as the new. But 

such freedom has never been oermitted in 

modern art. The replication oi the old was 

considered rather ihe oumur of inferior 

imitators, as Kitsch or, *e say today, 

department store am - and ", consequently 

banished from the museum. -fhat is why 

there is no need to seek the reasons for the 

development of avant-garde's art in rhe 

exrernal realiry. lt is enough ro poinr ro 

the compulsion towards the new which 

proceeded from the museum collectron. 

Above all the art of the avant-garde cannot 

be regarded as an expression of the 

personal will of an individual artist. Each 

artist of the avant-garde changed his style 

frequenrly in order ro ourdo orher anisls. 

He proceeded strategically and always had 

THE Loclc or rHE CoI_Lf,crtoN 

the general situation in view to better srtuate 

himself and his art in rhe seneral situation. 

Just as the new art caniot be regarded 

as an authenric expression of the individuality 

of a single person, neither can it 

be regarded as an expression of its trme or 

irs sociery Ir was rarher alien ro irs rime 

and its society because it was based on 

collecting defunct art of the past whose 

outlook presum€d a certain amount of 

special knowledge and experiences. The 

arr of the avant-sarde is the art of an elicist-rhinking 

miriority because it originates 

under a constraint to which rhe eeneral 

public would nor be subiected. 

Time and again the artistic avant-garde 

has been connecred with technological 

progress. It is a commonly held opinion 

that innovation in art has to do with technological 

innovation. But what is usually 

called technological innoyation is in fact 

only a technological improveme.nt. It is an 

aovancrng movement rn a certarn, prescflbed 

direction. Someone whose name has 

slipped my memory ar the mornent wrote 

an article which splendidly sums up rhis 

difference with this example: A plane with 

only one wing would nor be an innovation 

in technologlr because that wouldn't be 

an improvement, but in art such a plane 

would certainly be an inreresring innovation. 

In art no bounds are imoosed on innovation, 

save the bounds of the old and of 

tradition which should not be reolicated - 

at leasr not wirhour some re0ecrion. 

On the other hand, having said that, 

means the new in art should not be associated 

with history and historiography in 

general. An arrisric innovarion is nor a 

new step in the direcrion of a linear rime. 

Although it represenrs the historical, the 

space of the museum itself is unhistorical, 

77

78 

BoRrs GRoYs 

just like a library of novels, for example, is 

still not a novel. \i?'e can therefore detach 

the term innovation from its association 

with the lineariry of historical time - and 

hence we can also detach it from its association 

with the term progress. The criticism 

of progress or the historical utopias 

of the modernisrs is basically tie criticism 

of the ohilosoohicd construction of a linear 

time. Such criticism becomes unvalid when 

artistic innovation is no longer thought of 

in terms of temporal linearity. And indeed 

innovation does not occur in time, but rather 

on the boundaries between the collection 

and the ouside world. And these boundaries 

between the museum and the outside 

world are not temporal, but are determined 

by a quite different, namely spatial, logic. 

A Chinese statuette from the third millenium 

B.C. can be just as new for the 

collection - but not new either - as obiects 

from the oresent and the furure. The 

boundaries of the collection are constantly 

fluctuaring and open ro different rimes 

and places. Individual innovations that 

entail being included in rhe collecrion - or 

being removed from it - do not generally 

constitute history, although they have an 

impact on the entire state of the collection 

and change the logic of other innovations. 

As stated, these changes and restructurings 

do not lineate. They are selected points 

and define, or even continually invent 

their own historical Dasr anew. The collection, 

however, remains compulsive because 

it predetermines through its own logic 

the innovations so that rhey allow this collection 

to exoand. 

Innovarion should not be considered a 

creation. Man cannot create something 

out of nothing - that is srill a divine privilese. 

For that reason all theories of art 

which attempt to interpret the creation of 

art as something produced from nothing 

or as a revelation of what is concealed are 

more rhan oroblematic. For innovation 

ev€rything ii always open, unconcealed, 

accessible. Innovation lies in the fact that 

something is included in the collection 

which had not been included before. The 

issue in this case is the shiftine of the 

boundaries berween 'valuable' *oik of"r, 

which are preserved inside the collection 

and the profane objects outside it. Certain 

profane objects can be chosen by a specific 

artistic strategy and placed as innovatron 

in the context of the museum collection. 

Of course. this descriotion of innovatron 

refers primarily to the ready-made method 

that Duchamo introduced into art and to 

a large degrei dominates the practice of 

art today. But the ready-made method 

should not be misunderstood as a Darucu- 

Iar arr trend wirhin a diversiry of orher 

methods. The ready-made method is only 

a demonstration of what art has always 

oroduced - a reflection of art oractice as 

such and its internal regularities. 

Art history shows that new trends in art 

have always arisen as a result of this strategy, 

that something which had been ouside the 

valorized collection before, has been included 

in this collection. Consequently, the 

art of the Renaissance replaced Chris-tian 

icons with oictures of the immediate social 

surroundines. The Romantics exdted the 

unfinished an-d the sub.jective which had 

been previously excluded from acknowledged 

collections. And the art of the avantgarde 

exalted the primitive, the mechanical, 

the coincidental, the heterogeneous 

and many orher things. It is not tiue thar 

a work of art is produced at first quite 

spontaneously and, as it were, "outside

culture" from an, as Kandinsky put rr, 

"inner necessiry" only ro be erraluaLei afterwards 

as to whether this work of art can be 

included in the collection or not. The act of 

creating art is rather identical to the act of 

inclusion in the collection. Creatins a work 

of arr mears putring something in ihe context 

of the collection which haq nor Deen 

represented in the collection before. 

The general form of innovation is the 

re-evaluation of values, the shiftine of hierarchies 

which place profane obJecis in rhe 

context of acknowledged values. As already 

mentioned, the museum comparison 

precedes the creation of an and defines it. 

'When an artist upgrades a certain profane 

object which has nor been included in the 

collection, he establishes an aesthetic signifier 

for his rime and for himsei-f. 

However, it still has to be determined if 

this feat of a sinqle artist will be acknowledged 

by socieiy and if the respectrve 

work will actually be included in the collection. 

Bur this social decision is in no 

way unrestrained or arbitrary either; it follows 

the same logic of museum comparison 

- but at a hieher level of control. 

Neirher a singJe arrisr nor an insrirurion 

has de facto thi right to decide what goes 

into a collection and whar not. The erowth 

of the collections follows rhe law of the 

economics of innovation: only that which 

is original, new, unique and clearly breaks 

away from rhe prototypes is included in 

these collections. Many of the theories 

oriented along the lines of the art of the 

avant-garde have tried to prove that innovative 

an thar does nor lollow cerrain 

rules of art production is also art. Most of 

the modern theories of art were thought 

up to legirimize rhe new art. Bur in ihe 

process the fact was overlooked that tradi- 

THE Locrc oF THE CoLLEcrroN 

tional and not innovarive art needs to be 

legitimized because of all things arr produced 

according to familiar rules is not 

included in rhe collecrions, rhar means ir 

is not regarded as serious, high art. By 

contrast, a legitimarion of innovarive arr is 

superfluous; It, ,ucces, is the result of the 

logic of the collection itself. 

Creating art is therefore identical with 

collecting art. Duchamp's ready-made method 

gave a clear idea of this internal identiry 

between creating art and collecting by 

the way of the fact thar ready-mades did not 

change - or only minimally changed - on 

the outside when they were valorized so that 

the wrong impression cannot arise that this 

change ( i e the shaping intervention of the 

artist) and not the logic of the collection 

constitutes the actual foundation for the 

assessment of the work of arr as art. 

Neverrheless, such a shaping, anisric inrervention 

still takes place - and Duchamp's 

ready-mades, by the way, do not conslture 

any real exception. For this reason the quesrion 

thar arises is whar does rhis arrisric 

intervention have as its aim. For art consumption 

which has to meer rhe public's 

concepdons regarding what art is and 

should be, the artist interyenes with the aim 

of adapting his material to the common uaditional 

rules of art production. By contrast, 

in the art created for the collection 

such a shaping intervention seryes the aim 

of puri$'ing the respective, selected, profane 

object from all possible associarions 

with traditional an. ir could also be said 

that a shaping intervention serves the aim 

of shaping rhis objecr inro one thar is even 

more profane than it already has been in 

profane realiry by underlining the contrast 

between this profane object and the traditional 

aesthetic norm. 

79

80 

BoRr s GRoYs 

ilI 

'lfhen it is frequently said that generally 

non-art instead of art is being produced 

today, that is true, of course. But that does 

not mean that it is very easy to produce 

non-art. It is not true that a small island 

of art is surrounded by a sea of non-art so 

that it is simply enough for rhe arrist ro 

dare a step over the boundary of acknowledsed 

art in order to reach non-art. 

Profane realiry is saturated with the art 

output. Our visual surroundings are constantly 

being artistically designed - indeed 

in the sense of conformiry to rhe prevailing 

artistic norms. Furlhermore, quite a - 

lot from the space of the profane has already 

been aestheticized and included in collections. 

On the other hand, that means 

that it is difficult to find the potentially new 

profane reality in order to place it in the 

context of the collection. Therefore, in the 

case of this 'putting in context' through rhe 

intervention of the artist in the respecuve 

obiecr selected for it, everyrhing is emphasized 

that gives an idea of what brings this 

ob.ject in opposition to th€ aheady existing 

prototlpes from the collection. In the case 

of such al intervention, therefore, everything 

that is contrastive, different, strange, 

alternative is brought to the fore which 

remains unnoticed at a superficial glance. 

The deliberate artistic stylisations oJ aesth€tisations 

of, for instance the pictures of the 

insane, look even more insane than these 

picrures themselves. ,A,rd Lechnique in art 

lools even more technical. the soonraneous 

more sPontaneous, the ugly uglier, the primitive 

more orimitive and rhe exotic more 

exotic than in profane reality. 

Here we have somethins to do with a 

Dhenomenon thar can bJ defined as a 

negative conformity to traditional rules of 

art. One conforms to these rules by not 

breaking them. Incidently, the process 

does not differ very much from a positive 

conformiry to rules of rradirion to which 

these rules hold as strictly as possible. In 

both cases knowledee of the rules is taken 

for granted, and rJerence made to these 

rules plays the decisive role. In both cases 

the outcome is not reality, but fiction. 

Only in one case it is a fiction of positive 

conformity where life supposedly loola just 

like the traditional artistic ideal, and in 

another case life is oresented in rcvcrsc as 

non-ara, as a radicai alternative, as something 

opposed to the ideal. But both outcomes 

are equally fictional - the avant-gardist 

non-art is .iust as artificial and produced 

according to certain rules as traditional art. 

And that is the reason why both can be 

reoresented in collections on the same scale. 

The problem with negative conformiry 

i. e. the production of non-art, is now and 

again - and especially recently - not only 

underestimated, but also overestimated so 

that it is constantly claimed that there is 

nothing new to be found any more as all 

boundaries have been crossed and all taboos 

have been broken. The collection allegedly 

no longer differs from profane realiry 

But this assessment does not apply 

right away. It must not be forgotten that 

the pictures of high art become profane, 

inasmuch as they find their way into profane 

reality - even if they remain outwardly 

the same. Valter Benjamin, among 

others, has convincingly proved this in his 

observations on the loss of the aura. The 

change of context in which art objects 

function as well as methods of their dissemination 

lead to changes in their reception 

which can then be aestheticized and

absorbed into the collection in the second 

round of the aesrhetisarion of the orofane. 

This is rhe way so-called posr-modern 

art actually functions. The post-modern 

artisr inquires abour changes obiecrs of art 

undergo in profane realiry of the modern 

mass sociery and the media and he aesthetisizes 

these changes. This process is often 

misundersrood when it is believed thar 

post-modern art produces notnrng new 

because it only borrows from the art of 

the past. Bur rhis reproach is not justified 

because borrowings ar€ nor being taken 

from the art of the past itself, bui rather 

of rhe profane mass appearances of this 

art, i. €. classical art, which has gone 

through the meat mincer of the mass 

media and mass reception. Here the attention 

is transferred from the novelry of the 

arristic form ro the novelry of the social, 

media and linguisric handling of this form 

- and this rransference is fully legirimate. 

But there is still a deeper reason for the 

fact that the pr.occ,rp"iiotr with non-art 

does not lead ro rhe disapDearance of the 

boundaries between arr and life, or between 

collection and profane realiry. The collecdon 

is also on the whole more orofane 

rhan life jusr as any single work of modern 

art is much more profane than anything 

in everyday life. The traditional conceprion 

ofart assumes rhat order and hieraichies 

are established in art which lend art 

value. Art has value because it is higher, 

and it is higher because ir esrablishei an 

hierarchic order which is missine in life. 

Prolane reality is described in thi process 

as the realm of enrropy, or ar leasr 'entropization' 

that consrantly threatens and 

undermines all order. The battle for art, 

for culture, for civilization is rherefore 

regarded as the battle of forces bringing 

THF. LoG rc oF THE CoLLEct roN 

about order againsr the entropy of death 8t 

wnrcn tnreatens everythtng ltvtng. 

If rhis is acrually so, rhen irlas ro be 

stated thar the art of today has lost this 

battle for the old and the new order as 

well because ir obviously offers a picrure 

of the_ very far advanced' encropy. Ii appears 

ro be arbir rary, chaotic. excessively pluralistic 

and as a consequence no Ionger 

brings about order or meaning. Art is 

apparently no longer elevated ovir Iife. lt 

has dismanded its own hierarchies so that 

society does not understand any more 

what value art should have. This siruation 

is quite new - it should not be understood 

as 6miliar. The preoccuparion wirh nonart, 

rhe disbanding of the old order is actually 

an old avant-gardist story, anq one may 

possibly wonder why rhe quesrion abour 

rhe value ofarr is being brought up nowadays 

with such an inteisiry *ii.h i, thr."tening 

all the existing collictions with total 

debasement. It is plausible ro say thar we 

are in no way dealing with a new historical 

phenomenon here. Just trends are becoming 

visible roday and clear for rhe masses whJ 

characterized the artistic dynamics from the 

beginning of modern art. 

Such a claim is, of course, thoroughly 

correct in itself. But in this case the fact is 

overlooked that modern art has known uo 

unril now how ro legirimize irs venrures 

against the old ordJr, always with the 

hope ofa new order, Today we are expenencing 

for rhe first rime rhe fundaminral 

crisis of such legitimation. Since the 

Renaissance and on throush the Romantic 

period and unril rhe end 6f th. lgth ".ntury, 

the new European art has been legitimi"ed 

by means of a humanistic ideology. 

In denying rradirional prororypes, conventions 

of rhe pasr and the Lraditional defi

82 

BoRrs GRoYs 

nirion of mastery self-assertion of human 

freedom was considered liberated from all 

the chains of prescribed taste and directly 

related to nature. The new art henc€ conformed 

with a new hierarchy which had 

individual freedom at its pinnacle. Art thus 

retained its traditional function and value. 

It still expressed a hierarchy of values which 

was supposed to dominate reality itsell 

M 

The new art underwent another evolution 

when in the times of the historical avantsarde 

it was linked to diverse theories of 

ihe unconscious which have put the autonomy 

of human freedom in doubt. For 

Nietzsche, Freud, Heidegger, Virrgenste in 

and Saussure and their successors, only 

rhe'other', the concealed unconscious, 

plays a determining role in life which people 

inevitably overlook. That is why the 

overlooked, the profane, the 'extra-cultural', 

the non-collected have been understood 

and assessed as a symptom and trace 

of the unconscious which secretly controls 

human action. Economics, sexualiry race, 

exisrence, language. rextualiry, writing, 

simulation and difference are the various 

names for rhe unconscious. whose signs 

can only originate from a hidden, profane 

reality because everything that is always 

included in collections is conscious by 

definirion. The theories of the unconscious 

create their own hierarchies. At the 

too of these hierarchies is the overlooked 

prbfrn., ot non-art, which acts as a signifier 

of unconscious forces. The theories of 

the unconscious thus exolain with credibility 

the main process and the dynamics of 

modern art which is continually searching 

anew for the overlooked in order to track 

down the unconscious. Even if, as some 

aurhors claim, the quest for the unconscious 

with the object of making it conscious, 

or at least characterizing it, is wrong 

in its basic intention, because the unconscious 

cannot be made conscious without 

ceasinq to be the 'other', the sublime 

which-has not yet been thought of, even 

then the denial of the dawning of consciousness 

of the unconscious can be made 

the central theme of art, because even 

then it is an issue concerning the unconscious 

as the most valuable and supreme. 

Even for the Deconstructivism of Derrida, 

who wants to break most radically with traditional 

assumptions of metaphysics, the 

textual unconscious still remains the supreme 

because it deconstructs every text and 

consequently actually controls. Today the 

different theories of unconscious stlucture 

and substantiate the hierarchic order of art 

just as much as the theories of human freedom 

did in the oast. Individual atusts are 

extolled because they give expression to the 

unconscious the way they were praised in 

the past for having made transcendentd 

truths or the ideals ofbeaury visible. 

The reason for the feeling of crisis of all 

legitimizations, which is so widespread 

today, arises from an explicit - but not 

completely open - doubt about the theories 

of the unconscious and legitimizing force, 

It seems that today we no longer have 

any unconscious because everything has 

become accessible to us and everything is 

allowed. The unconscious has been definitely 

taken over by the 'system'. But even 

the system can no longer act as an unconscious, 

that is as a social and political 

determinant that cannot be eluded - for 

one no longer knows what this system 

really consists of. But, regardless of whe-

ther it is the supreme or the lowest, if there is 

nothing more thar art can draw from or aesthetically 

represent or make visible, inevitably 

the question arises, why it should take up 

a _specific, honoured space in social realiry 

The enrire legirimizarion ofthe sysrem art is 

tradidonally based on the assumption that 

this rystem on the whole represenn something 

that is the 'other' in refeience to reality. 

If this 'other' - as God, idea, freedom, but 

also as the unconscious or hidden cultura.l 

identity - is no longer considered to be existent, 

an apparendy loses irs legitimization so 

that it is slowly rhreatened with disintegration 

inro profane realirv, 

But as I have tried io show, the hypothesis 

of human freedom as ar, ."oLn"tion 

for the dynamics of modern art is iusr as 

superfluous as the theories of the unconscious. 

This dynamics can be sufficiently 

and convincingly deduced from the inner 

logic of the collection itself, without 

having ro invoke meraphysical. hidden 

forces, wherher it be freedom and reason, 

whether it be unconscious life or language 

itself, or whether it be the unreflictid 

mechanisms of the market or the oower of 

instirutions. Hence new works of art do 

not represent any new 'real' or 'vigorous' 

order. The growth of the collection exclusively 

follows the logic of collecting. 

And that means further that the collection 

or the system art on the whole does 

not need any legitimization as an aesthetic 

representation of a hidden realiry, an 

'other'. a super-conscious or an unconsci- 

ous. If the collection is understood to be 

such a representation, then the'other'is 

still sought beyond the collection - that is 

in realiry. But the collection does nor 

represent another reality; it is that other 

realiry. In the collection, things function 

THE LoGIC oF 'rHE CoLLEcTToN 

differently than they do in realiry, in life. 

Instead of being consumed, thcy are preserved. 

The widely propagated demand to 

blast rhe boundariei ofari in order to set 

direcrly at life overlooks the fact rhat "art 

always has been a form of life - but another 

form of life. To oyercome it does 

not mean coming to life, but rather simply 

destroying a particular form of liG. 

If rhe question is asked, whar is meaning 

in arr, rhe answer should be in fact 'ni 

meaning', if the rerm 'meaning' means 

that art could or should denore some 

'extra-cultural','extra-artistic' reality. On 

the other hand art is closely related to this 

'extra-arrisric' realiry - especially to polirical 

realiry. But the ielation ofart ro politics 

should nor be taken as the obiect of a 

personal artistic-polirical commirrment. 

An individual artist cannot decide whether 

his work should be political or not; 

the political relevance of hls own arr rs nor 

available to him. Neither does a critic 

have the criterium of differentiatine between 

diverse works of arr with resoicr ro 

their political significance and function. 

The collection itself is rather a figure of 

the political. For the polirical belJngs ro 

the life of the collective. The type of collection 

makes it clear, therefore, how the 

lasting forms of culture and social life in 

general are stabilized and handed down 

and how the general framework of the 

constantly changing political events and 

phenomena is shaped. The collection constitutes 

such a framework for the collective. 

The form of the collection shaoes the 

time and space in which rhe polirical 

occurs and at rhe same time makei it visible. 

Art rherefore denotes the seneral context 

of the political. To red-uce rt to a 

concrete political exertion of influence 

83

84 

BoRr s GRoYS 

within this context would mean underestimating 

its much deeper political relevance. 

In order to elucidate what has been said, 

I would like to refer to at least three historic 

forms of art representation that I mentioned 

at the beginning: the church, the 

palace and the modern collection. Despite 

all the considerable differences which I 

cannot go into right now, in the church 

and in the palace works of art are presented 

in a rigidly hierarchic manner. The 

meaning of a single work of art is determined 

by its place in the correspondingly 

structured hierarchic collection. And it 

can be said that every single work of art in 

these collections internalize their general 

structure. It is just as structured and ranked 

hierarchically inside itself as the space 

of rhe church or Dalace. But what remains 

the presupposition for such a hierarchic 

orsanization is the fact that all elements of 

this organization can be substituted: In a 

church an old fresco or an old icon can be 

quite easily removed or destroyed and 

reolaced with new icons and frescoes. The 

fait that these new work of art are completely 

different in sryle does not influence 

their hierarchic position and hence 

their value for the colLction. 

By contrast, the modern collection, as 

stated, is structured on the principle of 

preserving the old. Accordingly, the new 

does not find its olace in the collection in 

lieu of the old, Lut rather alongside the 

old. But from this results a new impossibiliry 

of hierarchic order. The space of the 

collection, where the new is placed on the 

same scale and on the same level of value 

with the old, thus loses its previous hierarchic 

character. It eliminates hierarchies 

and it neutralizes, deconstructs, homogenizes 

the space which becomes unqualifia- 

ble and indescribable. Incidently, modern 

art reflects this new sPace of the collection 

iust as much as it did the art of the church 

and palace in the past. The modern work 

of art in itself also increasingly eliminates 

hierarchies, is increasingly decentralized, deconstructed 

and neutralized. Modern an 

continually tries to absorb this undefinable, 

completely neutral space of the collection 

which eludes every description and modern 

art continually tries to demonstrate this in 

the single work of an. But this never succeeds 

completely, because wery new work of 

art receives a place in this space of the collection 

which it can no lonser reflect in itself, 

that is the space among tlie worla of art and 

not within these worla of an - wen if these 

an works are organised in tltemselves as 

small musea.l collections, or installations. 

A modern political representation is also 

accordingly structured. It is increasingly 

shaped as a collection of varying political, 

social, ethnic and sundry standpoints, 

none of which offers the possibility of 

overlookins the entire collection, and at 

the sa-e tiio. the invention of a new political 

standpoint too cannot be interpreted 

as merely a representation of an already 

latent, unconsciously existing political realiry. 

lt is rather a matter here of a genuine 

opening up of a new political way of life. 

In its neutrality and deconstructiveness 

the artistic soace of the collection is certainly 

much more radical than the space 

of political representation which remains 

certainly structured as hierarchically as 

ever before. This radicalness of the artistic 

space can be interpreted as a challenge to 

politics to come even closer to this space. 

But it can also be claimed rhat in its supposed 

neutrality the artistic space rather 

camouflages, improves appearances and

hence ideologically legitimizes real political 

relarionships. Borh interpretations are deeply 

anchored in rhe enrire hisLory of arr. Ir 

can be found too in the discussions about 

the relationship berween Christian art and 

secular polirical order The artisric space is 

most profoundly relared to the polirical space 

in its basic srructure. But exactly rhis 

inner relarion provided the possibiliries for 

firrther afiirmarion or criricism of rhe orevailing 

polirical order on rhe parr ofart. 

The museum collection is in fact more 

pluralistic, more homogeneousr more 

entropic than the actual sociery that we 

are living in. Ard rhar explains why and 

how rhe modern collecrion functions as a 

legitimization of the modern pluralistic 

State which dominares rhe much more 

homogeneous society. The tradirional idea 

of power presupposes that one specific 

social srratum. or ideology dominares - 

direct or indirect - an intrinsically pluralistic 

sociery consisting of many different 

strata or ideologies. But the modern State 

repr€sents much more standpoints, traditions 

- pasr and present - cultural forms 

and ways of thinking than the factual 

sociery dominated by this State. And the 

modern museum makes precisely rhis difference 

berween Srare and sociery in rheir 

s tructu ral _,inner . pluraliry immediarely 

obvrous. I he society can srand such a 

comparison because it is not so rich in 

political standpoints and cultural attitudes 

as the Museum. The Church dominated 

the sociery or the world because rhe world 

was seen as sinful. The Palace dominated 

the sociery because rhe non-aristocratic 

population had no good taste, no manners 

and no style. The modern Museum dominates 

the society because the socrery - 

compared to it - seems to be too trivial, 

THE Loctc oF THE CoLLEc.rtoN 

flat, homogeneous and boring. 

The shortest definition of a soace of 

modern collection would be: ir is ihe soace 

of enrropy. This enrropy of the collection 

is, however, just as artificial as the 

traditional order. It is produced and not 

simp-ly given. The rerm enrropy rs as a 

rule negarively loaded because ir is believed 

that life, as has already been stated, 

needs order, and that entroDv threatens 

therelore to destroy every lile.'Bur precisely 

this threat makes up the fascination of 

entropy and the 'enrropisized' space. The 

collection as a place of preservarion is 

indeed at rhe sam€ dme a olace of death - 

as well as rhe sire where rhe attempr is 

made to overcome death. The church *as 

also such a place of death, where one felt 

threatened by the superior order - and at 

the same time one hoped for salvation. In 

the past death was considered to be a sulsumPtion 

under a superior L; '.,.,'L;c 

order. Today death is considcled to be a 

pure disintegration into a horizontal infinity 

- into a neutral space of the entropic. The 

space of *re collection is rherefore an a$empr 

ro survive in entropy and by means ofenrropy 

- to overcome enrropic death through the 

entropy itself This dream ofsurvival in entropy 

conditions the fascination of modern art 

on the whole as well. Every at-tempt to force 

a new, liG-securing order on this an, fails 

because such an attemDr overloola the real 

problem and rius provei ro be naive 

Entropy goes deeper than all antitheses 

like chaos vs. order, ecsrasy vs. normaliry 

primariness vs. secondariness, language vs. 

writing, crime vs. moraliry etc. with which 

the theories operate in an atrempt ro fix a 

certain essence to art. Bur by way of the 

actual artistic occurrence all these theories 

are simply placed alongside each other in 

85

86 

BoRr s GRoYs 

a collection and levelled in the process. 

'\J(/here order tries to assert itselfin the art of 

today, there arises at once the trends which 

forebode chaos. lVhere chaos is more intensely 

emphasized, art reacts with new principles 

of order. V/here the abundance of pictures 

prevails, one expects and gers the pictures 

of emotiness. Where art becomes temperate 

and ascetic, there is hunger for pictures. 

\Vhere morality is preached, one begins 

to praise crime and vice versa. Every move 

in a direction is immediately compensated, 

blocked and made ineffective by the movement 

in another, counter direction. But 

even the models with which one tries to 

describe this situation such as the dualistic 

nng and Yang laws, for example, do not 

function. !7here dualistic models turn up, 

they are confronted by monistic models. All 

these movements in thought and sryle seem 

to be contradictory and chaotic. But altogether 

they vouch for the smte of entropy in 

which the soace ofthe collection finds iself. 

On the whole they vouch for the neutraliry 

the indescribability and the non-representabiliry 

of this space which cannot be occupied 

by any single work of art or any single 

theory either. 

Bur, as already sated, this space is not a 

space of outer realiry but rather it is the 

soace ofthe art collection itself. \Vhen art is 

pioduced, this space is created and designed 

a.long with it - even when and especia.lly 

when one does not manage to repres€nt this 

space within one's own work. Ever since the 

'Black Square' of Malevich, at the very least, 

efforts have been made time and again to 

create the picture of a total, neutra.l, empty 

space - through reaching a zero level of the 

picture, through a random accumulation of 

heterogeneous materials and objects, through 

endless, undifferentiated monotony, 

through the unmotivated repetition of what 

already exists, or through the consequent 

rejection of every statement, to name briefly 

jusr a few of the corresponding strategies. 

Nevertheless, the 'entropic' space of the collection 

remains the largest and, if you will, 

the only work of the Modern art becanrse it 

cannot be represented individually. The 

structuring of this space is executed through 

the collective work of exoansion and ransformation 

of the collection in which artists 

as well as curators, private collectors, ga.llerists 

and critics take part on an equd basis. 

The art historians' attention has been concentrated 

much too long on the individual 

achievements of modern artists. They seemed 

to be too heterogeneous and therefore 

aroused not only admiration for their boldness 

and freshness, but also nostalgia as 

well. There was a longing for a collective 

artistic work where the contribution of rhe 

individuel served the expansion and improvement 

of the whole. Perhagn only now it can be 

realized drat this collecdve work rvas achiwed 

in the work of the modemists too, and that the 

heteroqeneity of rhe individual contriburions 

..-.d-itr th. end the extension of the neutral 

soace of the museum collection which in its 

endrery smrc-tures and marks our rime iust as 

the spaces ofthe churches and palacrs have put 

a mark on the past. 

Bo* Grolt blcr efcr s*dia i natematih och fbof 

uid. uniuersitetet i Leningrad, oetenskaplig medarbeta' 

re uid Intiwtct Jih stmhnrell linguitih aid Moskvat 

uniucrsitet 1965-71. Frin 1981 har han bon i 

Tlshhnd och iir uerhsam som skrifstalhre oeh publicit 

samt hwtm till flasofuha institutet, Miinstels 

*nhtersitet, Hans boh 'Gesamthuntwerh Stalin', som 

utkom 1988 har ulicht ttol upPmilrhtadhet. 

Adr:Schttahacltcrstrassz 17, D-5000 Kt;ln 51, BRD.

NoRDrsK MusE()l-ocl t 993,2, s.87,9s 

Towanos MoDERNrsr 

Cor-rpcrrNG: 

Sour EunopEAN PnecrrcEs oF 

THE LoNc Tpnu 

Susan Pearce 

The beginning of modernist collecting and, of the particular hind: of hnowledge and 

experience u,,hich it embodies are usually considered to begin taithin the fifieenth cen- 

tury, ulsere interests concent/ates on the accurnuktions of the Medici, and upon the 

cabinets ofcuriosities, uhich begin to appear, as the century draws to a close- Hou.ruer, 

this ear$ modern collecting practice did not uystalize out ofnothing. The standard 

procedures of historical inuestigation can suggest some obt)ious predecessors: the collec- 

tions ofrelics and treasures acquired by the great medieual churches and princes; the 

collections of Greeh art acquired by first centur! and kter Romans; and the material 

held in Greeb temples, described for us by Pausanius. But underlying all this collecting 

actiuity it is perhaps posible to discern some eharacteistics ofthe European tradition 

which inform collecting, and mahe it likely that modernist collecting, ulhen itfinally 

comes into being with the rest of modzrnist practice, uill tabe the shape and signifi- 

cance which it has done.' 

This paper'endeavours ro single our some 

of rhise fundamenral Europein characreristics, 

and ro suggesr why tirey are significant. 

There are many related issues which 

cannot be addressed here, and these include 

a definition of collecting, a view of 

what constitutes'Europe' and its'nadition', 

and the significanie which this may 

have in a broader context. These are all 

very important themes, which will be discussed 

at befirting length elsewhere. 

Meanwhile, this discussion of some lonsterm 

European pracrices, in Braudels sense 

of the term (see, for example, Bintliff 

l99l), and their relationship to collecting 

practice, is offered here as a contribution 

to the debate.

88 

SUSAN PEARCE 

OATHS AND ORDEALS 

The work of a number of linguists, and 

particularly of Thomas Markey, has given 

us a significant insight into the nature of 

European sociery which has a bearing on 

the matter in hand, and this revolves 

around its fundamental orientation as an 

oath/ordeal organisation rather than as a 

totem/taboo organisation, regarded by a 

broad anthropological consensus as two 

basic socio-cuhural types which are found 

in complementary distribution and seldom 

overlao. Totemism has been the subject 

of suchintense anthropological speculation 

that the history of it as an idea is 

more-or-less the history of anthropology 

as such, and Markey gives a helpful summary 

of this history in his 1985 paper. He 

suggests 

A simple yet suitably broad and generally acceptable, 

working definition of totemism might well 

assume the following fotm. Totemism is the redisadon 

of a particular, but generally mystical (or 

otherwise numinous), relationship betwecn the 

members of a given social (rypically Linship) unit 

and a natural object or group of objects (e.g. heavenly 

body, a plant, animal, or mineral ot even 

meteorological phenomena) with which that unit is 

usually characteristically associated and from which 

ir derives its name. [--l 

But perhaps the most significant attribute of 

totemism is that it consists in a projection of mcntal 

attitudes on natural objects. However, that very 

projection, that very bridging, which asserts a continuity 

between culture on the orle hand and nature 

on rhe orher hand, is never subjected to experimental 

validation, nor could it be, and even if it were 

attempted it would defy such validation. A certain 

fish is, for example, equated with or classified as 

moral, boars with/as btave, diamonds with/as ethi- 

cal, and so on. But what probative test is there to 

demonstrate that boars are brave and diamonds are 

ethical? This is metaphotical thinking and a sym- 

bolic' logic of equal but opposite (e.g. Ieft vs. tight, 

male vs. female) that classifies by sentiment rather 

than lirnction. (1985: 181). 

Markey goes on to draw attention to th€ 

fact that 

Systemically totemism is notmally, perhaps even 

naturally, correlated with tabu. Tabu confers cor_ 

rective significance on totemism; it is the police fotce 

of totemism and its boundary condition. The 

correlation of totemism with tabu, an undeniable 

empirical fact for the vasr majority of roremizing 

cuhues, gives rise to what wc here term thc 

totem/tabu or t/t- pendigm (1985: l8l) 

Clearly, it is the mystical/numinous character 

of totem and tabu which provides 

its psychic energy and defines the kind of 

world outlook which such a society is likely 

to have. Berrrand Russell has defined 

mysticism as possessed of four hallmark 

properties: 

1) it invokes intuition alone and rejects discursive 

logic; 2) it is holistic rather than atomistic and isomorphically 

correlates all differences as integrated 

parts of a larger whole, of a cosmology, of a 

\Vehanuhauung entitled the Universe; 3) it denies 

Time and claims to play itself out in an all-embracing 

synchronic present with no meaningful past 

and little predictivc futurc (other than the dire consequences 

of brealing a tabu, hence the policing/governing 

nature of tabu as a correlative of 

totemism); and 4) it views evil as mere (personified) 

appearance: there are only ptoblems and no coun_ 

ter-examples in a world of mysticism devoid of 

principled, propositional or analytic and exPera 

mental logic. The probati"e basis of rotemism is

necessarily expeiiential, not experimental, logic. 

(Russell 1917: I - 31). 

Totem/tabu societies, therefore, will have 

no interest in tests of validiry in the rational 

Iink berween cause and effect or action 

and consequence, or in the narure of historical 

sequence. They will see the world 

as an undivided unity in which each fraction 

is part of the wholeness of things, 

perceiving no dualities, whether berween 

man and the natural world, between man 

and matteq word and obiect, or right and 

wrong, other than as a matter of sacred 

transgression. 

Markey, drawing on data embedded in 

the Haman Relations Area Files held at the 

University of Michigan, suggesrs rhat the 

complementary paradigm to totem/tabu 

should be that of oath/ordeal, and that, as 

a matter of social and historical fact, it is 

to rhis paradigm rhar European sociery, 

past and present, seems to belong, some 

cultural admixture not withstandine. Like 

totem/rabu. oarh/ordeal possesses iis o*n 

kind of logic in the srructure of oath, guaranteed 

by irs own cosmological sanctions 

embodied in ordeal. Here, oath is defined 

as'a formal invocation to gods/rnen to 

witness the contested validity of acts or 

intentions'. Characteristically, oaths adopr 

a formula, which carries rhe legirimatizing 

weight of precedent and is utrered in special 

places and at special times, in relarion 

especially to the adjudication of guilt and 

innocence. The total familiarity with 

which we ourselves hear utterances like 'I 

swear I am innocent', or'I swear before 

almighry God that what I say shall be the 

truth, the whole truth and nothine bur 

the rruth' bear wirness (rrc.4 to rhe irindset 

of which these sayings are a part. 

TovARDs MoDERNrsr CoLLEcrrNc 

There is abundant evidence for related 

ordeal practices in the European past, 

including medieval and later trials by fire 

or by water (in the 'floating' of witches), 

the use of riddles as tests, and, of course, 

trial by single combat. 

The oath/ordeal paradigm involves the 

notion of individual rights and responsibi- 

Iities, since only a single person can perform 

oaths and ordeals, and tne corresponding 

notion of the rest, who hear, see 

and judge. It sets up a dichotomy between 

word and object, between man and the 

material world which re.iects the mystical 

unity of all things in favour of a sense of 

separations which hinge on pairs like true: 

false; supported by previous events : 

unsupported; proven by successful defencelordeal 

: unproven; genuine: deceitful; 

innocent: guilry and so on. It carries the 

seeds of a Dotential develooment of moral 

and social philosophy, logic and scientific 

experiment, analytical history, and most 

significantly for our present purposes, a 

particular relationship to the material 

world, which is regarded as 'other' and 

therefore as a fit arena for the exercise of 

the analytic qualities just ourlined. 

KINSHIP AND PROPERTY 

In 1982 Leach wrote; 'tfi/hen you read 

anything that any anthropologist has written 

on the topic of kinship be on your 

guard. The argument may not mean what 

you think; the author himself may not 

have understood what he is saying' (1982: 

137 - 8). \ffhen this awful warning is linked 

wirh rhe difficuhies of reconsirucring 

what kinship sysrems may have been liki 

in the remote past and linking this with 

more recent and conremporary situations, 

89

90 

SUsAN PEARcE 

and with the undoubted fact that nonanthropologists 

usually find the whole 

subject arid and unhelpful, it will be seen 

that is a difficult subject with which to 

grapple. However, in spite of all the 

thronging difficulties the fact remains that 

how a socrety sees rts pattern ol marflage 

and familv relationshios creates an essen- 

tial part of its social character, and there 

i"asons for thinking that the broadly 

"r. 

European system has, and for a long time 

has had, particular characterisrics. especially 

as these effect the property-ov/ning 

and collecting classes, which have played a 

significant role in defining long-term 

mentalitls, particularly in relationship to 

notions about the marerial world 

The most comprehensive study of 

European kinship is that produced by 

Friedrich (1966) who was able to draw on 

a long tradition of previous study (e.g. 

Crosland 1957; Thieme 1958) and criticism 

by social anthropologiss like Goody 

(1959). Friedrich has brought together both 

a large body of European data drawn from 

textural and linguistic study and theories of 

kinshio semantics drawn from social 

anthropology, and used these to suggest 

what can be determined about early Euro- 

pean kinship in relation to immediate blood 

relationships, the extended hmily and the 

relationships through marriage. 

Friedrich suggests that across the 

European language family the words for 

blood kin suggest a general and early 

recognition of rhe relationship set our in 

fig 1. Similarly, the words for relations 

through rnarriage, that is affines or (as we 

say) in-laws, suggest the broad existence of 

eight special terms, of which five were 

normally used by a woman when speaking 

of her husband's close blood relatives. 

From this Friedrich infers that the terms 

imply that on marriage the girl removed 

from her own blood kin to the familial 

group of her husband's father, and this fits 

with other early textual evidence which 

shows a great concentration of power in 

the father's hands, giving us an extended 

family of patriarchal rype. Further evidence 

allows the suggestion that quite often 

the patriarchal family formed a physical 

household and associated field rishts held 

by the farher, where everyboly lived 

(patri-local) and descent was reckoned in 

the male line (patri-linear) (1966: 14 - 

23). All this produces a system which is 

deeply familiar to modern European men 

Fig 1. Characteristic European Ain and. affne rektionships. Terms ate in relation to ego. Ego\ afines are 

in iulics.

and women, especially if their appreciation 

of it has been sharpened by a taste for 

nineteenth century novels. Each of us 

would be wholly unsurprised if, on drawing 

up our own immediate family tree, it 

looked very much like that shown in figure 

1, and the same is broadly true of any 

modern European from Cork to Moscow. 

Europe is not the only society in the 

world organised in terms of this sort of 

structure, but it is probably fair to say that 

such structures are relatively unusual. To 

quote Leach again 

In a great many social systems the only fully legiti- 

mate marriages are those in which the bride and 

bridegroom ate nor only already kin but kin of a 

specific caregory such as, say, that which includes 

the relationship morher's brother's daughter\father's 

sister's son. The rules are formally protected 

by supposedly powerful religious taboos, breach of 

which will result in supernatural punishment for all 

coocerned. (Leach I982t 144) 

In these social systems, in other words, 

marriage between cousins of one kind or 

another is regarded as desirable. This gives 

us the sort of family tree set out in figure 

2, which relates to no actual sociery and is 

TovARDS MoDtRNIsr CoLLECTING 

ludicrously over-simplified, but in its general 

shape serves to show how unfamiliar this 

system is to the European mind, and how 

different are some of its imolications to those 

to which EuroDeans are accustomed. 

To speak like ihis about European kinship 

is clearly to sketch a paradigm, rather 

than ro discuss acrual hisrorical socieries, 

which present an €xrremely confused pictute 

across time and space. In particular, it 

is necessary to draw out what the formal 

kinship structures cannot show, the fact 

that in western Europe in general, and 

perhaps in England in particular, the 

capacity ofwomen to own goods and properry 

in their own right, by inherirance or 

purchase, runs back a long way into early 

medieval society. Similarly, in these societies, 

in many situations a property-holder 

(of both land and goods) had no inevitable 

heir and could leave his properry by 

will as he wished, an approach which weakened 

the position of the eldest son and 

strengthened that of his junior siblings 

(MacFarland 1978). Nevertheless, the 

point here is nor rhe manv variations or 

ieviations which may be played on rhe 

theme, but the theme itself: that, now ano 

in rhe pasL rhere is an approach ro marria- 

tl 

= cousin cousinf cousin cousin= cousin cousin= cousin cousin= 

= cousin cousin = cousin cousin = cousin cousin = 

Fig2. Schematic plan ofone possiblz uersion ofcross-coxsin mariage. 

I 

9l

92 

SUsAN PEARcE 

ge, inheritance and kinship which is identifiably 

European. This pattern has played 

an important part in social navigation and 

it is to this that we must now tunr. 

A system of cousin marriage, that is a 

marrying-in endogenous system, tends to 

create a vertical or monolithic structure in 

which the family resources are kept within 

the family, and can be shared out amongst 

all its members according to custom. By 

contrast, an exogamous or marrylng-out 

system, like the European one, produces a 

relatively weak vertical structure and a 

relarively importanr horizontal one, in 

which family relationships straggle away 

into an extended series of affines. This has 

two important consequences. The goods 

that have been associated with a marriage, 

whether as a dowry provided by the girl's 

parents to go with her or bride-wealth 

provided by the man's family to go to her 

parents, will be lost to which ever family 

is making the provision because the rwo 

groups are not blood kin. This means that 

goods can circulate in such a sociery in a 

much less regulated and more random 

way than is often possible. Coupled with 

this has been a range of heirship strategies 

which operated at various times and places, 

but one stands out as particularly significant 

especially for the propertied classes 

in England and other parts of S(/estern 

Europe. In order to retain a solid core of 

wealth within one family line it is necessary 

to create some inalienable properry 

rights, of which the most obvious is the 

concentration of heirshio in the eldest 

son. a strategy which Roman society 

embraced and bequeathed to later generations, 

and which may have operated earlier 

in some groups. This, however, has the 

result, another European classic, of crea- 

ting sequences of younger sons who although 

educated as gentlemen, have no 

visible means of support and must make 

their own way in the world. 

The effects of this have probably been 

enormous. There is a very real sense in 

which a substanrial element in the later 

(and perhaps some of the earlier) history 

of Europe is the history of portion-less 

younger sons who have always had to 

move on, op€n up new lands, look to 

acquire a well-dowered female. or take to 

commercial ventures. They have contributed 

considerably to the resdess, aggressive, 

acquisitive character, which, for better or 

worse, is typical of Europeans. Their existence 

is part of the reason why European 

trade, industry and colonisation developed 

as it did. Europeans are accustomed to the 

idea that, because cousins are not booked 

to each more-or-less in their cradles, the 

marriage market operates much like any 

other market. The ootential choice of 

marriage partner is viry free and so very 

competitiye, and this has helped inspire 

both our notion of romantic love with all 

the specially-orientated forms of production 

which this has entailed, and a steady 

but ever-shifting pattern of rhe accumulation 

and dispersal of material goods. In 

sum, one of the effects of the European 

kinship pattern has been ro creare a sociery 

in which, over a long period, material 

goods have been significant in a way 

which transcends their universal relationship 

to human needs, to encourage the 

inventions of ways in which the range and 

number of goods can be increased, and to 

create habits of object accumulation; and 

with all of this goes a mind-set materially 

attuneo.

HOARDINGAND GIVING, 

HERE AND IN THE OTHER VTORLD 

The imagination of the early medieval 

world, both Germanic and later Scandinavian 

or 'Viking', was dazzled by the 

notion that heroic deeds are matched by 

splendid objecrs. rhar rhe'imperishable 

fame' of the hero which shall be suns of 

to rhe end of the world, in rhe ph"rase 

which srands ar rhe roors of reiorded 

European consciousness, (\Tatkins 1982), 

shall be met wirh 'honourable gifts', a 

phrase which, as we shall see, may occupy 

a similar crucial place in rhe imaginarions 

of those who used it. Splendid_ gifts were 

glven trom one man to another, sometimes 

from man to the gods, and sometimes 

from man to a dead hero: all of these 

forms srand wirhin a long-continuing 

tradition which seems to run back into 

European prehistory, and all require analysis. 

Ve can comc close ro experiencing 

what the splendid objects were by considering 

the goods placed in the seventh 

century royal ship burial at Sutton Hoo, 

England with its sword, shield and helmet, 

dishes, ceremonial drinkine horns 

and gold, enamelled purse filled wirh gold 

coins (on display in the British Museum). 

In this tradition, together with kin, 

'honourable gifts' constituted perhaps the 

most significant social bond. Markey has 

shown rhar rhe word for such eifrs in 

Beowulf lOld Saxon\, merhom, derives 

from an inhe rited Germanic *rnaipm, 

which occurs in appropriare forms in 

some (but not all) early Germanic languages, 

and was 'rhe term par excellence of 

gift/exchange' in the early medieval 

Germanic world, part of the language of 

epic and of the primitive economy of 

TovA RDs MoDERNTsT CoLLEcr rNG 

heroic society 'but hardly an).where in 

active use by the ninth century'(Markey 

1990: 351). Markey suggests rhat *rnaipm 

'unambiguously points to an underlying 

pre-Primitive Germanic 'moitm '', a usage 

which mighr rake us back ro ar least rf,e 

later centuries BC. The word, methom, 

especially in Beowu$ is particularly assoc! 

ated with gemaic as the context for gift 

exchange (maine still carries the idea of 

'well-endowed' in its modern Enelish descendant 

as, for example, in our phrase 'a 

man of means'). In Beowulf gemaene means 

something like'dutifully', honourably, 

given' and Markey suggests that this reflects 

a pre-Primitive Germanic *moinnos ghomoinis, 

which we may render as 'honourable 

gift exchange'. Markey notes that this 

corresponds approximately to a Common 

Italic *donom da-/do, and, suggests that here 

we have tracked down a formula of early 

Northern European poetic diction which 

encapsulates a crucial social pracdce, like 

that represented by the culturally akin 

'imperishable fame'. The recorded practices 

of migrarion age princes, rherefori, throw 

their light backwards into prehistory as well 

as casting their shadow before. 

Vhat this lisht shows us becomes clearer 

when we -consider rwo other words 

which also belons with notions of 'reward', 

mizd,o andTaun. As Benveniste has 

shown rnizdo, while ultimately related to 

maiprn, meant'woddly reward' whlIe hun 

meant 'providential' or 'heavenly reward' 

and as such had a garhering rendency Lo 

be used in Chrisrian conrexts. Markev 

(1990: 152) sers out rhe potential relationship 

between the threi words in an 

interesting paragraph which deserves quotine 

in full: 

93

SUsAN PEARcE 

94 'Now if, as seems highly likely, laan originally d,efined 

providenrial, divine reward\rrersure in opposition 

to mizdt (and congeners) as the expression of 

secular reward/treasure, payment gained by contest, 

conquest, or work, then where does maipm f\t into 

this continuum and what, ifany was its relationship 

to latrn on the one hand and or its formal sibling 

fiizdo on the other hand? then too, in addition to 

the exigencies of a conversion literarure as outlined 

above, why did maipm - vanish? IJfhy, too on its 

deathbed in that literature, was ir so readily ambi- 

guous (both secular and divine) and unable to make 

a transition to one pole (hrn) or the other (nizdo)? 

'We suggest that, as the original expression for 

courtly gift/exchange within the communitat, 

maipm occrpied, a pivotal position midway berweenly 

totally {+secular/-divine} and totally {-secular/+divine), 

indeed just as the princcps as communal 

leader (Goth piudans) and addressee of the 

maipm-rirui occupied the same position: 

hun maipm mizdo 

+ divine + -divine -divine 

(Markey 1!90 : 352) 

+ - secular 

+ - secular 

- divine 

+ secular 

\We can conclude that maiprn, honourable 

gifts and the weapons, helmets and ornaments 

of gold and jewels inseparable from 

the idea, stood at the oitical threshold 

between two worlds, and that the act of 

exchange between prince and follower 

constituted a rite of passage which acknowledged 

and confirmed murual obligations, 

a character which collected material 

was long to mainrain. 

HEAVENLY REWARDS 

Parallel with this heroic world, feeding 

upon ir and ultimately superseding it, ran 

anoth€r mode of accumulating collected 

mat€rial, one which inherits most of what 

had gone before, and fuses the suands 

togeth€r through the catalyst of Christian 

practice. The idea that the burial places 

and the corporeal relics of Christian holy 

men and women calried significance for 

the living was well-established by around 

AD 400, the end of Imperial Rome in the 

west, and the beginning of a Christendom 

whose theocratic power was exercised by a 

church hierarchy descending from, and 

modelled upon, th€ old imperial, bureaucracy. 

Historically, this practice arose from 

the persecutions which the early Church 

suffered, and from the martyrs' relics 

which resulted. But far more was involv€d 

than the simple act of remembrance and 

the moral encouragement which ir provided. 

The holy graves where relics were 

buried or, eventually, enshrined, mediated 

between God and men. They were the 

locus where Heaven and Earth touched. 

where this world and the other world met. 

Churches which possessed holy relics 

came to accumulate earthly treasures 

which matched rhose spiritual, and those 

which did not took pains to acquire both: 

heavenly treasure and the eanhly riches 

which surrounded it seemed to have been 

indissolubly mixed in the medieval mind. 

The kinds of objects involved may be seen 

by the Cross of Lothair, made in Cologne 

about 1000 in the possession of the cathedral 

church of Aachen. It is a masnificent 

piece with goldsmiths' filigree w-ork and 

mounted precious srones and incorporated 

both the rock-crystal seal of Lothair II of 

Lotharingia (855-859) and, in its centre, a 

superb cameo of the Emperor Augustus 

(31 BC - AD 6) (Beckwith 1964: 140-142, 

259-60). A classical gem, an aquainarine 

intaglio showing the portrait of Julia,

daughter of the Emperor Titus (AD Z9-81) 

formed the top jewel of the elaborate jewelled 

piece known as the Crista or Bcrin de 

Charlemagne (although probably the gift of 

Charles the Bold) in the possession of the 

abbey of St Denis, where the relics of the 

saint and his comDanions were held 

(Panofslry - Soergel 1979: 190). These wo 

examples, chosen more-or-less at random 

from the great wealth of possible illustrations, 

give an idea ofthe richness involved. 

As we have just said, relics were the place 

where this world and the Otherworld 

met, and this explains why they were able 

to attract so much collected trcasure to 

themselves and their churches, but their 

nature needs more explanation. Relics 

belong within that quiie large class of 

objects which in life were part of a living 

human or animal, but which in death are 

turned into things. Relics are objects 

which are both persons and things, and 

their corporeal realiry - frequently obvious 

to the eye as a limb or a skull - reinforces 

their double condition and ties them to 

the experienced 'real' world of time and 

space. As persons they are rrue saints 

living with God; as relics they are documents 

for understanding the world. The 

way of understanding -was through an 

appreciation of Cod's intervention in the 

Fig j. Semiotic analyis of 'teli'. 

Relic 

To'wARDs MoDERNIsT CoLLEc I lNc 

affairs of this world, of knowine lrow sometimes 

the Divine could direcd"y affect the 

mundane. The importance of life lay not in 

diurnal regulariries bur in anomalies. 

stfange occurrences, interruptions and 

miracles, and of these miraclis the relics 

themselves were physica.l proof This notion 

was to casr a long shadow before it, as we 

shall see, but for the present, let us cxpress 

the essential nature of the relic in a simole 

semioric form shown in fizure J. h is ihe 

relics' documentation of "the miraculous 

which stimulated the great thesaural activity 

which they stimulated. 

'$(/e can now see that the treasures of the 

great early medieval churches garher together 

most of the threads which have characterised 

object accumulation in the preceding 

centuries, and weave them rogeiher 

in a form which will greatly influence the 

shape of things to come. The treasures 

belong to God and to the holy ones who 

dwell with him. Consequendy, they 

themselyes are things ser apart, both holy 

and dangerous, ominous in therr power. 

They are gifts to God and to the mighry 

dead whose graves and shrines occupy the 

imaginative place which burial mounds 

like Sutton Hoo had held in the minds of 

those northern barbarians now gradually 

converting to Christianiry The giving of 

143!!!r corporealsurvivalolholybody Docum€ntofcodhmnaculous 

ggl-l!I! Pre*nceofsaint h Heavcn Possibility of hiraculous intervenrion 

on behalf of worshippea bringing 

95

96 

SUsAN PEARcE 

gifts at the altar is still honourable and 

still a rite of passage in which the divine 

and the mundane are brought together 

and the status of the donor is changed, although, 

as Markey has shown, the Church 

found it necessary to make a clear distinction 

between old Pagan and new Christian 

practice in which the older vocabulary of 

meithom, came to mean 'earthly reward and 

laun to mean 'heavenly/true reward'. Gifts 

to the church, like pagan gifts to the dead 

or to Otherworld powers, are valuables 

withdrawn from circulation, frozen assets, 

to be seen primarily as creating a reladonship 

between man and god, from which 

proper relationships between men will 

depend. Oaths once sworn upon Thor's 

rings will now be sworn upon the holy 

bones in their reliquaries of gold and gem- 

Stones. 

From the old northern world the church 

treasures took notions of gift exchange, 

the depositing of treasure with the dead 

and at sacred olaces, and the link between 

royal hall and royal church, usually built 

very or relatively close together in the early 

medieval world. They succeeded the 

earlier temples, also, as repositories of 

community memory, materially expressed, 

The link between the old imperial world 

and the new devotion war sometimes 

made exolicit in the value accorded to 

ancient cimeos and similar oieces. From 

the world, also, come notions of the significance 

of the physical means of the holy 

dead. notions, perhaps, wirh their roors in 

ancient practice. The early medieval 

church treasures are, then, a meering 

point of significances. ln appearance. rhe| 

were immensely impressive: reasure withdrawn 

from the workins world still works 

upon through the visioriof eye and mind. 

SOME CONCLUSIONS 

This brief review of some important longterm 

elements in European thought and 

practice has important implications for 

the ways in which collections have been 

formed, and the rationale from which they 

spring and to which they contribute. The 

suggestion that European culture belongs 

within the oath/ordeal social paradigm 

focuses attention on the EuroDean tendency 

to regard time and space is properties 

capable of classification, and consequently 

to be deeply interested in assessment, 

measurement and the material evidence 

which can give these qualities observable 

creativity. It is arguable that this paradigm 

is one important source of the European 

'scientific' mentaliry, which then, of course, 

had such ar incalculatory impact upon 

the world as a whole. Seventeenth and 

eighteenth century science, and to a certain 

extenr, contemporary science also, 

depends upon material evidence, .just as 

the notion of 'evidence' underDins this 

whole mentdliti. The mare rialiry of collected 

specimens, and the ways in which these 

have come to be seen to be susceotible 

to classificatory principles and procedures, 

is an inevitable part of this mental atitude, 

and the making of collections, therefore, 

is an integral element within it. 

The notion of spatial and chronological 

classification bears a distinct relationshio 

to the practice of keeping relics, for here 

we have the notion of the 'real' oresence 

of the dead created by their remains which 

come to us from the past. It is an attitude 

which, in the fullness of time, will creare all 

the collections which have to do with 

'famous' people, and also alternatively, those 

which are usually described in museums as

social history, and have to do with the ordinary 

people of rhe past. Ar rhe same time, 

the 'anomaly', the 'miracle' aspect of relics, 

linked wirh the norions of sequential classification 

which we have just discussed, prepares 

the way for fiuitful ideas of'difference' 

and 'oddity, the strangeness which 

needs exploration. These ideas wer€ powerful 

in the cabinets of the sixteenth and 

seventeenth century, and have made their 

own conrriburion ro contemporary science. 

Relics have another resonance. They, 

and the treasures which surrounded them, 

belonged in the churches, often the royal 

churches, of the medieval past, and there 

is a clear historical chain which links these 

palaces and chapels to the earliest museums 

of the Renaissance, and so to the state 

and civic museums of the modern world. 

Such a chain can be traced clearly in the 

royal and national collections of the 

Scandinavian world, and also in those of a 

number of the German rulers. In the contemporary 

world museums possess the 

same kinds of prestige and assen the same 

kinds of cultural oower which once belonged 

to prince and priest. 

One significant aspect of this cultural 

power is the notion that important collections 

are inherently sacred. They are detached 

from the mundane world and held in 

a sort of special suspension, above and 

beyond commodity or valuarion in commodity 

terms. Sometimes these collections 

are held to possess aestheric and craft 

excellence. Sometimes, particularly in scientific 

or historical collections, rhey possess 

the authoriry of knowledge, irself a pioducr 

of material classification. As we saw in our 

discussion ofgift-giving, the transmission of 

treasure was a rire of passage; the sacred force 

of the objects, poised between this \forld 

To\yARDs MoDERNTsT C()LLEC r'tNc 

and the Otherworld has the Dower ro uansform, 

to change identities ani relationships. 

The possession of collections retains this 

power. Individuals are made differenr by 

vinue of the artistic or scientific collecrions 

which they own and (presumably) administer, 

and this is so well understood that it is a 

powerful motive behind the Barhering of 

collected material. 

Characteristic European practices of 

kinship and inheritance inform all these 

other social notions, however difficuft the 

notion of 'characteristic' may be. They 

have helped to create a materially-based 

society in which the accumulation of 

wealth by individuals is extremely important, 

because this is the only chance many 

people have to make a living. Kinship and 

inheritance practices feed into notions of 

social fluidiiy and individual choice and 

effort, which have contributed towards 

the peculiarly European forms oflong-distance 

contact and exchange, commerce, 

and, ultimately, the proliferation of manufactured 

goods which we usually call the 

indusrrial revolurion, parricularly as ir was 

experienced in Britain and other parts of 

'Western Europe. This, in irs turn, has helped 

to foster the western notion that iou 

are what you own', an idea quite alien to 

many of the worldt communities. All these 

practices are likely to encourage collecting 

as a form of object investment, and as 

an aspecr oFpersonal wealth and prestige. 

So brief an analysis leaves much unsaid, 

and inevitably treats each aspect of social 

practice here discussed as more monolithic 

and less subtle than it probablv cvcr was. 

Nevertheless, *.."r r.i a tradition in the 

long-term in which a number of elements 

interlock to give us the major modernist 

collections which we see around us, inside 

97

98 

SUsAN PFARcE 

and outside museums. Materiality is inhe- Crossland, R-A., 1957, Indo-European Origins: thc 

rent in the long-term mentaliti of Euro- linguistic widcnce, Past and Present' 12: 1616. 

pean society, because this depends upon Friedrich, P., 1966, 'Protolndo-European Kinships', 

the twin notions of personal effort and Ethnolog',5: l-36. 

accumulation and the idea of evidence, Good1J., 1959, 'lndo-European Society', Past and 

effort and accumulation and the idea of Present, 16:88-92. 

evidence, arrived at by processes of discri Leach, E., 1982, Social Anthropolory,london. 

mination in time, space and form. Levi, P. (ed.), 1971, Pausanias: Guide to Greece, 

Unsurprisingly, therefore, tr€asure hoar- London. 

ded and dispersed to be hoarded again, MacFarlane, A., 1978, The Origins ofEnglish 

achieves a kind of diviniry which from at Individualism, oxford. 

least the beginning of the European bron- MarLey, T., 1985, The Totemic Typolog', Quadcrni 

ze age is linked with the feeling that such di Semantica, 6, 1: 175-94. 

pieces make appropriate gifts to the dead 

and to the gods. From such ancient 

thoughts, the churches, treasures and 

relics of the medieval world drew their 

strength, and in their turn passed their 

power to modern collectors and museums. 

'*/hen we look at collections on display we 

should see not only their local or immediate 

significance in terms of history or quality 

shallowly conceived; we should see 

also how they are a realisation of deep 

rooted social practice. \7hen we look at 

European collections, we are looking at 

the European mind. 

NOTER 

1. In the introduction references are made to Pearce 

1992: t4-35, Strong 1973 a^d Levi 1971. 

2. The paper forms part of a larger project which invcs- 

tigates the Eumpean tradition ofcollecting practice, 

the poerics ofcollecting, and the politics ofcollec- 

ting, to be published by Roudedge in 1995. 

LITTERATUR 

Beckwith, J., 1964, Early Medieval An, London. 

Bintlitr, j. (ed.), 1991, The Annales School and 

Archaeolory, kicester. 

Markey, T., 1990, 'Gift, Pa;.rnent and Reward Re-visi 

ted, in Markey, T. and Greppin, J. (eds.), \X&en 

Worlds Collide: Indo-Europcans and Pre-Indo- 

Eumpeans, Ann Arbor: 345-362. 

Panofsky E., 1979, Abbot Suger on the Abbey Chutch 

of St-Denis and ia An Tteasures, Princeton. 

Pearce, S.M,, 1993, Museums, Objects and 

C-ollections,kicester. 

Russell, 8., 1917, Mlsticism and lrgic N€w York 

Strong D.E., 1973,'Roman Mueums'in Strong (ed.) 

Archaeologica.l Theory and Practice : Essays 

Presented to \(/. F. Grimes, I,ondon. 248 - 264. 

Thieme, P., 1953,'Die Heimar der lndogerman$chen 

Gemeinsprache'. Abhandlungen der Geistes - und 

Sozialwissenrchalilichen Klasse, Akademie der 

\Tissenschaften und der Licerature, 535i10, 

\?iesbaden. 

VatLins, C., 1982,'Aspects of lndo-European Poetic.s' 

in Polome, E. (ed.), The Indo-Europeans in the 

Fourrh and Third Millenennia, Ann Arboc 104tm. 

Susan M Pearce iit professor och lederfir Depattmcnt 

of Museum Sndies, Leicester Uniuersity, England, 

Hon har rcdigerat och skriait mlnga bdchet senat 

'M*seams, Objects anl Collzctions' (1992). 

Adr: Departmmt of Maseum Studies, Uniaersity of 

Leicester, 105 Princess Road East, Leicester LEI 7LG, 

England. FAX +44 5jj 523960.

Gn tNsEN soM MUSEAL 

STRUKTUR 

Bo Liinnqt'ist 

NoRDrsK MusEoLocr 19 9 3,2, s.99-tos 

Konung Christian IV utsiinde dren 1605-1606 expeditioner till Gri;nknd, fir att 

hAada riitten buer de dansh-norsha besittningarna gentemot engebmAnnen. 

Expeditionerna leddes au engehmannen James Hall som beriittar att man uid miitet 

med eskimderna pi Vri:tgrdnknd f;rudruade deras spjut och uapen i utbyte mot gam- 

mal jtirnsi)m, syndlar och andra obetydligheter. Intressant ir emellertid, att man ochsd 

tog till finga eshimler och dems hajahex 

Sammanlaqt nio individer fiirdes levande 

till Kopenf,amn. dar de bade studerades av 

kanslein och historieskrivaren Arild Huitfeldt 

och visades ftir publik. De dog snart, 

av hemlangtan, en av fdrsiik att med sin 

kajak ni Griinland, en under fiske och 

den sista "av grdmelse". Fiirstiket upprepades 

under Fredrik III:s tid di tre semmarexpeditioner 

utrustades och man ir 1654 

hemftirde $rra gr

100 

Bo LON N QVI sT 

matik, ostindiskt, medalier, modeller. Si 

fiirdelas tinsen ider liirsca inventariet

specifikr rysk kultur. Ner efter revolutionen 

det andra etnografiska muse€t grundas 

i sraden, kallas detta urtryckligen fdr 

De ryska folkens museum, i enlighet med 

Lenins Sovjetkultur. 

En intressant paradox rider deri att de 

etnografiska samlingarna, det till naturen 

klassificerade, i dag ofta ger oss en berydligt 

bredare kontext kring fi;remilen, deras ekologiska 

sammanhang, ln vad de kulturhistoriska 

pi konndsstirsbasis uwalda liiremilskategorierna 

kan ftirmedla. Vissa moderna 

museer, som r.ex. Universitetets antroDologiska 

museum i Philadelphia. irskiljei inre 

natur och kultur, utan presenterar folkslagen 

i en total kontexr. I de ernografiska 

exposderna ir det bdrande temat mdnniskans 

ftirhillande till naturen, i de kulturhistoriska 

mdnniskans ftirhillande till skriften. 

En annan grdnsdragning, som ftirefaller 

att ha kulminerat under 1900-talet, markerar 

uppdelningen i ktin - manligt/kvinnligt 

- och kdnltjshet. Nanrfolben saknade Hader 

eller hade obesrdmbara skynken, tatueringaa 

fiaderprydnader, smycken och andra dekorationet 

utan europeisk kdnsmarkering. 

Ocksi de rituella drdkrerna hOljer och doljer, 

dven den liturgiska skruden er bdnliis: 

misskioan eller mdsshaken. "mlss-sirk" 

tala. man om dnnu i slutet av 1600-taler, 

Ocksi de drikter och kl?idesplagg som fick 

sin plats i 1500- och 1600-talens Kunstkammer, 

typ Livrustkammaren pi Stockholms 

slorr, bevarades fcir anringen sin 

firnkrion av trofi eller kuriosirer, di manifesterade 

legenden, historien, biografin, eller 

bevarades som undergtirande reliker (typ: 

drottning Margaretas kjortel i Uppsala dom- 

Lyrka, frin bcirian av 1400-taler, till 1659 i 

Roskilde domlryrka; Stureklederna 1567; 

Gustav II Adolfs skjorta frin Lurzen 1632t 

Karl X Gustavs kriiningsdrlkter 1654). 

GRANsDN soM MUsaAL sTRUKTUR 

De t ir med mode t, fnmfiSnlk und,er l0l 

rendssansen, driikten blir ktinsmarkerande 

och museernas drdktsamlingar f6ljer efterhand 

(slutet av 1700-talet) allt noggrannarc 

modejournalerna bide kOns- och tidsmissigt. 

Herrdrikt/Damdrdkt, Mansdrikt/- 

Kvinnodrikt blir fasta kategorier i utstdllning 

och katalog. Tiansvestiters och andra 

till ki;net ambivalenta gruppers kladsel 

ster utanfiir griinsen till det naturliga - 

jdmfiir t.ex. Drottning Christinas s.k. resdrekt 

pi milningen av Wolfgang Heimbach 

1660 (Christina 1966. Bencard 

1980). Ocksi barnens kladsel, fijre det 

kiinsmarkerandc barnmodet i slutet av 

1700-talet, lyser med sin frinvaro. Teatermuseerna 

visar drikterna frdmst i deras 

rollfunktion, urprdglat historiskt, manligt 

och kvinnligt. August Strindbergt ambition 

att giira kostymen pi scenen till en dcl av 

ordet och budskapet i dramat, har fitrblivit 

unik. Ryttmistarens tvingstriija iFadren 

ar, som litteraturvctaren Hans-Gijran 

Ekman visat i sin briljanta srudie "Kledernas 

magi", ett plagg som skriker ut kiinens 

kamp, kvinnans srlrka som magnetisiir 

och flngvakt, en kombination av hypnos 

och kladesplagg (Ekman 1991). Strindbergs 

kladfilosofi genomgir en utveckling 

som kan fingas i ordrdckan: J);rdaru, fi;r- 

*iillning, fingens kap, jbrf;rels e, Ji)riindring, 

ftrnedring, och till slut fruoz ing-De flexa 

av dessa mentala katesorier faller likval 

utanftir grinsen ftir der naturliga, de dr 

ocksi kdnliisa. Museerna har aldrig agt 

dem. 

Niir si folkdr?ikterna, allmogens driktskick, 

under 1800-talet placeras in pi museernas 

etnografiska avdelningar, fdster man 

stor vikt vid brud- och brudsumsdrekten. 

Det dr briillopet, den aktenskipliga lyckan, 

famil.len, dopet, begravningen, vdlsignad av

Bo LoNNevrsr 

102 ling kyrklig tradition och omhuldad av 

1800-talets borgerliga ideologi, som blir ett 

centralt och estetiskr tillmlande tema i den 

etnografiska drii.ktutstdllningen. "Livets 

hiigtider" 1r en stabil kategori i etnografiskt 

tiinkande liksom iven i det sociala livets 

hierarki. Industrialismens yrkesuniformer 

under 1900-talet har ytterligare ftirstdrkt 

kdnsgrd.nsen som museal kategori. 

En tredje grans, som skall analyseras hir 

under temar narurligt-onaturligt, g?iller 

nuet, det for7n"C"o och famtiden - trll 

tidsaspekten kommer jag senare. Hdr gdller 

det verklighetsuppfattningen, k?illkriterier 

pi det autentiska ringet. Tingets klassificering 

sker i nuet. Det ir nuet som ger 

tinget dess grdnser. Sedan rendssansen har 

"det iildsta" givits hiig prioritet, termen 

dntiqa;tat er synonym med, auctoritas, ph. 

samma sdtt som grauitas dr synonymt med 

maje*as (I-r Goff 1,992, s.29). Museernas 

uppdelning i fiirhistoria, historia och 

nutid er i ftirening med framstegstanken, 

inte bara en kronologi, utan fiamfiirallt en 

virdeskala ro- o.ksi prdglat hela den 

vetenskapliga me rodiken: kompararionen i 

etnografi, konst- och kulturhistoria. Den i 

minga fall tidl6sa folkliga kulturen i 

Europa, som vore fiirtjant av en strukturoch 

mdnsteranalys, har pressats upp pl 

ridslinjen: arbemredskap har blivit museiviirdiga 

ftir an de har rypologiska motsvarigheter 

i fiirhistoriska frnd. Odaterade 

ftiremil inger bekymmer och vicker misstanke 

om sentida kopior eller fiirfalskningar. 

Grdnsen fur dei Ekta och det odkta 

1r en variant av natur-onatur. Men ocksi 

onaturen ir iu kultur i betvdelsen miinsklig 

skapelse: 'alla chimlrer, 'myter, kollage, 

attrappe6 fetischer, kulisser, kopioa hiiljen 

och fantasier av olika slag, vidgar fiirestdllninssvirlden 

utdver det konkreta nuet och 

giir en enhet av nu, fdrr och framtid. Det 

iir denna enhet museet glng pl ging furs6ker 

siinderdela. Vi har inset museum 

som skulle visa modeller av Je minskliga 

fdresrd.l ln ingarn a, fiir varje museum ar i 

sig ett autentiskt, konkretiserat prov pi 

mlnskligt tiinkande. Jacques Le Goff 

plpekar i sin studie "History and 

Memory" om bl.a. moderniseringen, huru 

den antika andan forknippades med hj?iltar, 

mdsterverk, storyerk, medan det 

moderna ocksi stir fiir det alldagliga, massiva, 

diffusa, mystiska, kontemplativa. 

I museiviirlden inneber det moderna dock 

en konflikt, en iideliggelse som legitimerar 

samlandes och museernas existens. Tradition 

och modernisering lir begrepp som dominerar 

nir det gdller de etnografiska museernas 

exposCer dver fok pe jagar- och samlarstadiet, 

de "Drimitiva" i motsats till de "uwecklade"- 

Pi detta s?itt inordnas de rationellt i 

Museum Eurooa och kolonialiseras i tid och 

rum, ekonomiskt, politiskt, kulturellt, socialt, 

mentalt. Den modernitet som innebdl en 

attackering arr grjnser - av nanrr/onanu, 

kitn/kijnsbyre/kiinliishet, rid/tidliishet - ett 

Iventyr i marginalitet, en opposition mot en 

konformitet med normen, en ftirnekelse och 

en fiirstiirelse, har inre i htigre grad kunnat 

uppas som museal kategori. Det ir ett frigande 

och reflekterande, kritiskt koncept (jfr 

lr Goff 1992, s. 37,41 etc.). 

T I NG E N S ETNOG RAF I S KA G RANSE R 

Pi utstdllningen "Sidenvigen", arrangerad 

pi Konstindustrimuseet i Helsingfors 

1985, presenterades even wenne schamandriikter 

frin Sibirien. Dr?ikterna var upphangda 

med den ilppna kaftanen v5nd 

mot iskedaren. se som man Dresenrerar 

historiska drikter. Dirmed eic-k drtktens

sendiga kvalir€r och innebdrd ltirlorad, 

imligen det dekorerade ryggpartiet, rikt 

oehangt med djurfigurea dockor, ormar 

och andra andesymboler, givor av mdnniskor 

schamanen botat, evensom bjallror 

och andra ting avsedda att skrimma bort 

onda andar. Att den sibiriska schamandrdkten, 

som hOr till de miirkligaste skapelserna 

inom drlktkulturen, miste kompletteras 

av trumman framgick inte heller. 

Det ir ju uttryckligen bland de stammar 

der trumman saknar ornering som driktens 

ryggparti fltt ijverra rollen av kosmos, 

medan t.ex. bland samerna den med 

tecken ftirsedda rrumman har kosmosfunktion, 

varfiir nigon speciell drdkt inte 

behiivs (Liinnqvist 1985 b). 

I museet Er tinsen alltsi en klar etnografisk 

grins, ibeiydelsen given deskription, 

visuellt gestaltad. De mest dominanla 

Brdnscrna d,r tids- och rumsaugriinsningarna: 

fiiremllet miste dateras, hiinfi;ras till 

en viss kultur- eller stiloeriod. till ett visst 

geografiskt och etnografiskc rum. Det 

miste vidare fl ett namn, inordnas ien 

museal nomenklatur, som iiverensstemmer 

med en allmdn kulturklassificerine - men 

som inre beakrar tinsen som en- lcuande 

prccess med mdnga skipnader. I sitt arbete 

"Allgeme ine Culturgeschichte der Menschheit" 

(Dresden 1843) - en fdregingare 

till Edward B.Tylors "Primitive Culture" 

(1871) - avgriinsade Gustau E. Klemm kulturen 

pi ett siitt som blivit grundl?iggande 

fiir tanken i det europeiska museet, aven 

om det hade ildre fiirebilder. Det ir evolutionistiskt, 

lygger pi ett tdnkande i stadier 

och framsteg. Kulturhisto-riens innehill 

iir: fisisk antropologi, drlkt, ornament, 

jaktredskap, transportredskap, 

bostad, hushillsredskap, behillare, verkryg., 

foremil i anslutning till doden, det 

CRAN\tN 5oM MUsr-Ar sTRUKI-uR 

offentliga livets insignier (kronor, fredspipor), 

krigets fiiremil, religitisa objekt och 

till slut "kulturen", d.v.s. musikinstrument, 

dekorativa ornament, kartor, teckningar, 

illustrationer till det skrivna ordet, 

poetiska och oratoriska produkter frin olika 

nationer (jfr Kroeber & Kluckhohn 

1952). Detta, dr ett kulturinventalum som 

motsvarar civilisationsidealet i sin boreerliga, 

ryska form: "Bildung". Det dr den frnda 

fasen ftir kulturen, en stelnad, icke produktiv 

kultur som byggs upp inom det nationella 

museet. Det ir i enlighet med denna 

logik man bland de primitiva folken tagit 

tillvara vapen, musikinstrument, kultfiiremil 

och drdkter 

Vissa "vilda" ftiremilsgrupper liter sig 

svirligen flngas i detta paradigm. Pi 

Germanisches Nationalmuseum i Niirnberg 

var dockorna dnnu pi 1880-talet 

utstellda i samlinsen av drdkter och 

smycken. Leksakerna som en sdrskild ftiremilsgrupp 

skildes fiirsta gingen ur pi 

1890-talet och erhttll ett eget rum. Det 

var dockot dockskip, tennfigurer och sellskapsspel. 

Sedermera utnytriades museets 

leksaker bl.a. fiir .lulutstallningarna. Det ir 

darfiir inte egnat arr fiirvina, atr 1800talets 

borgerliga syn pa leksaken som €tt 

av de vuxna giort ting med dnskvdrda 

egenskaper, vilket stilles framftir barnet 

att leka med, medan de vuxna ser pi i 

hegnet av jultriidet eller genom barnkammarens 

nyckelhil. blir den dominanra 

ocksl oi museerna. Det lekande barnet 

fitrblir- lika osynligt som forur (jfr 

Liinnqvist 1992, s. 56). Leksaken som 

kulturinventarium har emellertid styrt 

ocksi hela den vetenskapliga aktiviteten 

kring ting, rum och barn: bdcker om lek 

och leksakeq leksaksmuseerna och de olika 

synerna pi ting och barn: 

103

104 

Bo LoNNevrsr 

I d,en kulnrhistorisla samlarsynen, som 

tagit fasta pi leksakernas historiska och 

geografiska prdgel, har tingens konstans 

genom sekler framhavts. Leksaken har fltt 

fungera som ett kunskapsobjekt om kulturella 

varianser, hanwerkskunnighet, sociala 

och estetiska reoresentationsbehov. 

I den emograirsba synen har tingens ilder 

och en formkontinuitet, tradition och imiadon 

samr naturmiljiins betydelse (hemgjorda 

lelsaker) framhavts. Detta mot bakgrunden 

av en presumerad lekinstinkt, som 

ju fiirutsd.tts redan av Immanuel Kant. Leksakernas 

allmdnvbrldsliga karakrlr podngteras 

i de etnoprafiska studierna. 

I problematiseringea av leksaksbegreppet 

utgiende frin funktionalistiska, strukturalistiska 

eller psykologiskt-pedagogiska synsitt, 

har leksaken som en ren spegel av 

kulturen, eller som ett socialisationsmedel 

behandlats. Mot sidana, nigot schematiska 

synsit, vdnde sig i ridin bide Yrjil 

Hirn och Johan Huizinga, den fiirre framhillande 

lekens karaktir av bide allvarlishet 

och overklighet. den senare podngrirande 

lekens f

Skillnaden mellan folll

Bo LONNevrs r' 

106 som museal struktur lyfts fram i sin dubbla 

egenskap av inneslutande och uteslutande 

mekanism. Den inneslutande esenskapen 

har betytr tingens endimensionalitet. 

Det ar ett antropocentriskt perspektiv, 

museer skall visa allt der som finns utanfiir 

den europeiska minniskan med henne 

sjdlv som centrum och iskidare. Detta 

perspektiv visar oss tingens maktgrinser, 

t.ex. ndr det gdller leksaker som uttryck 

fdr uppfamningar om barnet. Grdnsens 

andra funktion, nimligen som nigonting 

som lockar md.nniskan att dverskrida tid, 

rum, sprlk och tingens betydelser, ir ett 

betydligt mera krdvande musealt koncept, 

eftersom det riir sig om en process. 

Manniskan stells hdr utanf,tir tingen. 

Tingen blir mdnniskan. 

Tiansgressionen, leken med grdnsen, 

innebar ju tingens fiirvandlingar, en standigt 

pigiende process som t.ex. barnets 

Iek med fijremil uttryck.ligen exemplifierar. 

Det dr ockse fregan om att fenga tingens 

symbolviirden, inte som fasta vdrden, 

utan som "ringar pi vattnet". Detra processuella 

ir, {tir att igen exemplifiera med 

kledkulturen, ndr Strindberg knyter kosrymen 

till ktinskamoen: nir kvinnan sdtter 

pe mannen ett plagg (en slit ring) fiingslar 

hon honom. Ar der err kvinnoplagg, t.ex. 

bara en schal, fiirnedrar hon honom. 

"Broscher som tidlor och andra orena 

djur", kan det heta om smycken. 

Kladesplaggen kan dven tolkas som sociala 

trofCer och symboler fiir antingen ft.ngenskap 

i en viss social position eller frigiirelse 

frin denna. Avki?idning och ferger kan 

markera en ftirdndring i moraliskt-religitist 

avseende. Pikledning kan giira en minniska 

besatt, det dr magi, eller ladda hela scenen 

med erotik. I Strindbergs "Ett driimsoel" 

ar kladselsoriket centralt: schalen ?ir 

barmhartigheten, kransen bide utkorelse 

och fdrnedring - en bild av livets bedriiglighet 

- och tdrnekronan marcyriet. Barnplagg 

kan symbolisera fiirsoning, kvinnoskon blir 

en barnsko och fetischen - en suvenr 

(Ekman 1991). 

Krdver vi det orimliea av museet nar yi - 

om vi - inte accept.r"i d.r, begrinsningar, 

om vi inte slir oss till ro med museets roll 

som officiell sanningsspegel? Riksutstiillningar 

iSverige har iTom Sandqvists regi 

och med nisra svenska och norska konstnarers 

hjilp -producerat utstd.llningen -Ay'z*a 

Collection - krigu som J?)rf)r Hdr tar man 

utgingspunkt i sprikformer som uw€cklats 

inom kernvaoenindustrin. Det ar 

kriger som forftirande tecken och sprik 

och den sexistiska karaktiren hos detta 

sprik som lyfts fram. Genom fetischen - 

missilen och dess namn - och fotografiet, 

visualiseras fenomeners karakter, soir sammanfaller 

med liknande element i desien 

och marknadsfdrine av t.ex. exklusivt 

herrmode - kalsongei - av kanda europerska 

modeskapare, si.som betecknande fijr 

det vasterlendska mansidealet- Soriket i 

ftirbund med ringen giir pi derra i:itt kriget 

ofarligt, tillochmed attraktivt eller ldtt 

liijligt - genom de potensladdade, raffinerat 

sexistiska, offentligt osynliga men dock 

"missilutldsande" kladesplaggen, kalsongerna. 

Utstiillningen Nuke Collection ?ir ett 

exempel pi ett griinsiiverskridande museikoncept, 

en studie i modernitet, der 

utgingspunkten 1r sprikets verld. Likviil 

ir vi bundna till den vdsterlendska skrifikulruren. 

Ocksi denna ursrallning avgrdnsar 

nar den gir iiver grdnsen, en utstdllning 

blir alltid absolut. Likvdl ger experiment 

av detta slag uppfordrande inblickar 

i kulturellt tdnkande och visar framfdrdlt 

pi vilken barande kategori grdnsen och

transglessionen dr i kulturen. 

Tingen ir inte oantastbara, inte ens pi 

museum. Ndr Sovjewdldet ftill stinder och 

samman biirjade sminingom uppgifter 

sippra ut ocksi om mausoleet pi Rtida 

torget i Moskva. Kommunismens och det 

socialistiska samhellets siinderhll har 

ackompanjerats av konstarerandet att 

ocksi Lenins kropp hiller pi att ftirvittra, 

all raffinerad balsameringskonst till trots! 

Ibland ar verkligheten underbarare dn dikten. 

M?inniskan pi museum ir alltid ett 

gdckande koncept. 

SUMMARY 

The Borderline as a Museological Structure 

Bo Liinnqvist discusses rhe cultural borderlines 

which are applied in museum classifications and 

presenrations. Museums tend to establish and confirm 

a world order through thc distincrions they 

make in ordering the collected objects and arranging 

them in specific buildings, rooms and show- 

cases. Thus the structuring can be regarded as a 

mirror of human intcntions and thinking. The 

paper elucidares some of rhe culrural symmetrics 

created by the museum. 

Fint the dichotomy of nature/non-nature is dis- 

cussed. The Kunstkammcr did not distinguish bc- 

rween wonders of nature and of human creativiry, 

ro rhe curious eye such a distinction is unimpor- 

!ant. In th€ 19rh centrury rhe diffcrentiation betwe- 

en muscums ofnatural and cultural history is made. 

\(/estern civilization bccomes the subject of the 

museum of cultural history, 'primitive peoplcs' 

belong to the museum of narural history. Also gender 

as well as time regarded as aspects of culture 

become distinctions of importance. 

Then rhe ethnographic boundaries of objects are 

looked at. Objecrs are defined as belonging ro specific 

moments in time and places in space and sub- 

ordinated the idea of evolution. Many other aspects 

CRAN\r N \oM Mt \tAI \'rRUK tuR 

are only partially understood or left aside - e g the 107 

toys and their cultural significance. The ethnographic 

borderlines defined by the muscum accept the 

lifeless objeerr in rhe cultural rphere and give rhem 

a significance according to theme, gcography, chro- 

nology and aesthetics. The museum becomes, as Le 

Goffhas put ir,'a producer ofhistory'. 

The third part of the paper rreats rhe class and 

ethnic boundaries of objects. Costumes and school 

culaurc are focusscd on. The distinctions based on 

social classification and economy are often hidden. 

However the distinction between upper class and 

folk culture is normally paid attention to - especially 

in the presenration of costumes. The dichotomy 

folk cosrumc/fashion should be srressed as class 

indicator, but the aspect was lost when folk costumes 

were uscd as the symbol of an imaginary folk 

lifestyle to satis$ middleclass taste. The possibility 

to use food. earing habirs and rhe laying of rables 

for meals in differenr settings is pointed at as they 

express patterns of power, ethnic idenrity and meanings 

conccrning the human body and society. 

They are cultural barriers operating without verbal 

cod€s. The same potential can be found io the study 

of the class-room society. Bo Liinnqvist is advocating 

th€ use of anthropological field-work me- 

rhods, which offers uniquc opportunities to study 

how a culture is created, formed and changed. A 

dynamic approach which would immensely enrich 

and vitalize the interpremrion of cuhural processes 

which all the time include the transgressing of cultural 

bordcrlines. ln many exhibitions those are 

perccived and presenred as eternal instead of tem' 

Porar)'. 

He concludes that the European museum as a 

mirror of Wcstern thinking is linked to ideas of 

linear timc, of space and of language. Hence con- 

cepts like conrinuiry and change. historicrl per.pe. - 

tive, control of space, have bccome decisive for our 

idca of the museum.

B() LoNNqvrsl 

l08 LITTERATUR 

Bencard, Mogens 1980l. Den stumme maler 

lVolfgang Heinbach. Serudsdlling.lulen 1 980- 

pisken 1981. Rosenborg. 

Christina Drottning ao Suerigc - en erropeith huhu- 

person ligha. Nationalmuseum, Stockholm 1966. 

Nationalmusei urstiillningskatalog 305. 

Dam-Mikkelsen, Bente & Lundbaek, Torben 1980; 

Etnografske genstande i Dct kongelige danshe 

Kunsthammer I 65 0- I 800. Nationalmuseet 

Ki;benhavn . 

Ekman, Hans-Giiran 1991: Kliidernas Magi. En 

S tri ndb ergx ndi e. Gidlunds Bokfdrlag, Vdrnamo.- 

Anm?ild av Bo Liinnqvist i Hufuudstadsbladct, 

Helsingfors 29. I 1.1992 

Kroebcr, A.L. and Kluclfiohn, Clyde 1952: CUL- 

TURE A crirical review ofconcepts and definid- 

ons. Palters ofthe Peabody Maseum ofAme ean 

Archaeolog and Ethnologr, Harvard University 

VoI.XLVII, No.l. Cambridge, Mass. U.S.A. 

Le Goff, Jacques 1992t History and Memory, 

Columbia University Press. 

Lilnnqvist, Bo 1985: Volkstracht als mqsealc 

Illusion. Ein Projektbcricht. Mode Tracht 

Regionale ldentitiit. Historische 

Kleidungsforschung heure. Referate d$ intcmdt;o- 

nalen Symposions im Museumsdorf Cloppenburg, 

Ni ed ersiich s i s c h es Frei lic h tsmateam, heratsgegeben 

von Helmut Ottenjann. 

Lcinnqvist, Bo 1985 b: Schamandriilter i Sibirien. 

Formcr och funktioner, ilder och ursprung. 

Finskt Museam 1985. Finska Forrrunncsfdreningen, 

Helsingfors. 

L0nnqvist, Bo l99l Folhkxburens skepnader. Till 

fo lhdra h te n s ge n ea logi. Schildts Fiirlag, 

Helsingfors. 

Liinnqvist, Bo 1992: Ting, rum och barn. 

Historisk-antropologiska studier i kulturella 

gcinser och gransiiverskidande. Kansatieteellinen 

,rrfrra 38. FinsLa Fornminnesfitreningcn, 

Helsingfors. 

Liinnqvisr, Bo 1992 b: D€t hitga och det liga ikul- 

turen. Antropologiska studier i dcn urbana v2irl- 

dcn. Eleuer i klas! II A i Br)ndij Gymnasium. 

Helsingfors. - U|BOMTORIUM f;rfolh och hul, 

tur Bulletin l/1992. Brages sektion fdr folklivsforstning, 

Helsingfors. 

Mennell, Stephen l99l: On the Ciuilizing of 

Appetiu. Tbe Body, Social Process and C tutal 

Theory, ed.hy M.Featherstone, M.Hepworth, 

B.S.Turner. Sage Publicarions, London. 

Stanjukovic, T.V. 7978: Etnograficeshaja Nauka i 

Mazei. l*adcmija Nauk SSSR. Leningrad. 

Bo Llinnquist bar en llng bana babom ig nm uniuer- 

sitetslarare och forshare i etnologi, N/igen har han 

utg;uit 'Tin& rum och bam. Hitotish-antropologisha 

studiet i huLturell"t gtiiaer och grdnfiuershridande' 

(1992). Han leder nu projehtet 'Stenshheten i 

Finland' uid Finlands Ahademi. 

Adr: Fbreningen Brage, K-asemgatan 28, SF-00130 

Hclsingfrrs. FAX +358 0 636513.

Klassikern: 

VAnn MUSEER ocH 

F O LKB I LD N IN G SARB E,TE,T 

Erland Nordenskiiild 

NoRDlsK MusEor.o(ir 19t3.2, s. r09-lr0 

Etnografen Erland NordenshidA (1877-1932) iir me$ kand som amerikanist. Han 

bt;rjade som paleontolog Jiibforska i Patagonien 1899, men rignade sig albmer dt 

arheohgi och etnograf. under flera expeditioner till Peru, Boliuia och Brasilien 1904- 

I914, uars resultat han redouisat inte bara i uetensbapliga auhandlingar utan ochsd i 

poput:ra reseshildringar. Han bleu 1913 cheff;r Giiteborgs m seumt etnograf:ha 

audelning och 1923 innehauare au en personlig professur i etnograf. uid Gt;teborgs 

hi;sshola. 

Museerna hava tre stora uppgifter, den fdrsta 

dr att bevara foremil till efterkommande, fdr 

vilka de skola tdlja om fordna riders natur, 

konst, kultuq etc., den andra ir att tillhandahilla 

forskarne material fiir deras studier och 

silunda vara en synnerligen vikdg faktor i 

vetenskapens tjdnst, den tredje dr att lbr den 

stora allmlnheten vara en killa dll bildnine 

och gl?idje. Der ar ocksi minga skarrer, sori 

hopas och hopas i vira museet det 1r oclai 

mycket av dessa, som legat till material ft;r 

utomordentligt viktiga forskningar, utftirda 

av svenska min. Mycket har ocksi gjorts sdrskilt 

pi Staterx Historiska museum, Nordiska 

museet och Skansen fcir att vira museer 

skola gagna och gl:idia allm?inieren. 

Borde dock icke dnnu mera kunna g

110 

E RLAN D NoRDEN SK IOLD 

ftirvaras, si att de nga minsta mdjliga plats, 

men likvdl iiro lnn tillgiingliga fttr forskare 

och sruderande. Ingenting f2ir vara nedpackat 

och oitkomligt. Utstdllningslokalerna skola 

blott innehilla en urval av samlingar hmpliga 

{l;r an bibringa allmdnheten en god, och 

icke 1.tlig kunskap i det iimne, i vilket man 

vill undervisa genom fiiremil. Det fir ej vara 

uppstdlh se. arr de flesra gi dir fiir an se, 

huru mycket som finnes, utan fur att ldra 

ni.got. Museet {ir e.j heller hava till uppgift 

att skryta f6r udanningar, si an man har en 

klinsla av att det hela ropar till en: Se, alla 

dessa skaner ha vi. se. detta finnes icke lika 

vacken ilftistiania, se, den gudabilden dr 

unik, se, den sten-lxesamlingen dr den stdrsta 

i vdrldenl Den besijkarde ftr ej fudora sig 

i massan av fdre.mil. utan iivera.llt finna det 

viktigaste. Miiter han en serie ftiremil av liknalde 

slag, sa tuo de der t.ex. Itir att visa lagarne 

fdr ornamentikens uweckling eller den 

typologiska uwecklingen av en form eller av 

nngon annan liknande orsak. Minga ftiremil, 

som enbart {iir forskaren och kinnaren 

dro av vlrde, men som fdr allmanheten dro 

oniidiga att taga speciell ldnnedom om, miste 

rana borta. De hiira till magasinsavdelningen 

och skymma annars bort vikigare 

saker. I de allt {br stora utstii.llningslokalerna 

frestas ocksi de besdkande fiir an se allt, an 

rusa fiin sal till sal, trappa upp och trappa 

ned. Pi en utmdrkt sam har man ni 

Nordiska museet lyckats arr upphiva den 

nedtryckande psykologiska verkan av rumsmassan, 

i det man aldrig ser filen av rum 

fiamfur sig, utan att dijrrarne mellan rummen 

sitta si, an man icke kan se frin ett rum 

g€nom ett annat in i en tredje. Ustiillningsrummen 

i Nordiska museet, som i minga 

avseenden ?iro ftinriimiga museitekniskt, lida 

likviil delvis av ett fel, nd.mligen an de iro ltir 

smi. Man kan ei &ir iive rallt bekv?imt 

demonstrera furemilen ftir en ordindr skolklass. 

Det ir fiir tringt, de kunna ej alla se 

samtidigt och ftilja ldraren i hans ft;relesning. 

Miste museet vara mycket stort, skall man 

stika art winea de bes,iikande att blott se en 

del av detsamlma vid varje besdk. Den arordning 

med dd'rrarne mellan rummen, som jag 

nimnde om i Nordiska museet, bidrager nog 

till an minga ntija sig med aft blott se negra 

rum i taget./../ 

Jag har h:ir i all konhet sijkt framhSlla 

huru vira museers insats i folkbildningsarbetet 

borde kunna giiras betydligt sttirre ln den 

nu dr, dels genom populiirare uppst?illning, 

dels genom forelzisningar i museerna, dels 

genom linbibliotek i samband med dessa, 

dels genom vandringssamlingar samt framfiir 

allt genom dkat och sFst€mads€rat samarbete 

med skolorna. Sdkert skulle icke museernas 

betydelse sisom bwarare av ltjremil till efterkommande 

eller sisom institutioner, som tilhandahilla 

forskarne material, hdrigenom 

mirxkas. Sdken wenom. ry en 6kat intresse 

bland allmdnheten ftir vira museer sku.lle 

sd.ken ha rill ftiljd an denna skulle mer 

understddja museerna och utan allminhetens 

v?ilvilia kunna dessa ei uwecklas. Fdr mweena 

vore det s{kert dven nynigt om de samarbetade 

mera sinsemellan dn vad de nu giira. Dena 

skulle v?il b?ist kunna ske om alla vira srarsmuseer 

stode under en gemensam styrelse, som 

vore medveren om an ustdllningen i museisalarne 

dr i ftirsa hand aft tjiina iolkbildningen 

och i aldra vetenskapen, ry fd'r den vetenskapliga 

bearbetningen av museernas material 

beh6vs ej .annat dn an det ft;rvaras i praktiska 

ma8asln. /../ 

Artik.ln finn, try.kt i Social Tl*kt1f,1908:1, s 15- 

21. Karin Nordberg, institutionen fiir id€hisroria, 

UmeS universitet, har uppmdrksammat oss pi den.

6 Museumsnotarer. Urmweun, Drctdzn (Nlan de V/aaJ og 

I'ane V*el), Ga&n M*scrn, Nuoro, Sardhicn (CtlJlrine 

Hasse og Nina Sten-Knudset\, S;r John Soane's Hourc and 

Musern, Londan(LoneS€herfig og Carst€n Th.u), E ,tr'n.l 

der irlkt t r - Ld S!?coh, &razzr (Peter Secberg og 

IGtrine Ussing), Tnbctigc sporgrnAl - Mutun d./ Medizin 

(Kirsten Hamman og Monen Skr;ver), The Pitt Riwts 

Mrcan lT orl,i Fur,der og Bodil Grue-Sorenscn). Video€r 

producerer afNationalmuseet og Det Darske Filmverktcd 

i forbindelse mcd udstillingen Mus€um Eutopr. Simlel spil- 

letid 75 min. Distribution: Det Danske Filmv€rkrted, 

Vesterbrogadc 24. DK-1620 Kobenhavn V 

Manse nuseer bruger video eller film i formidling eller 

dokumentation. Men det er yderst sjeldent, at de vender 

dctte nltrige redskab mod sig selv. Video 

noget Tv-stationerner kulturedaktioner en sjelden gang 

hver. Her er for en gangs s$d h€l€ 6 video-film om mus.cr 

produceret afet museum 

12 personer sendr ud i tomandshold til mus€€r i Eu.opa 

med en lillc Hi8-camcorder. Forfattere, billedkunstnerc, 

filosoffer, l'ilmfolk, etnologer, geografer. Hjemme har et pro- 

fcssionelr redigeringshold tager over. Resulratct €. 6 meget 

swardige, rankevakkcnde og ind imellem provokerende 

film. 

Mm lan marke, at holdene er sendr i bycn med en bun- 

den opgave (selv om de selv har varet med til at valge muse- 

er). Alle filmene forholder sig stlcdes dl rnuseers rolle som 

dcn, der bringer orden. Det er rneger betegncndc (os s€lvfol- 

gelig et resultat af Museum Europa udstillingens historisk- 

filosofiske syn) at der ingen a7e museer er med Den eneste 

undtagelsn er det lille folkemuseum p: Sardinien, som til 

gengald nzsten ikke ses pt filnen, der brugcr flest billeder 

pl den endnu lwende folketradidon. Der er ingen kunstmu- 

seer blandt de udvalgre, og der er inrer 

udmerker sig ved udstillingsretnik eller pedagogisk hold- 

ning. 

Der efredader et indtryk af m'rseer som noget let kuriosr 

og fornemt anrikveret. Det er synd, eftersom museer ogst 

kan vare slagkuftige, idenritetsrkabende og Pe&gogiskc 

Heldigvis gor noglc af filrnholdene opror. I Kirstcn 

NorrsER 

Halnman og Morren Skrivcrs film om det medicinsk-histo' I l1 

riskc museum i \trien, sejrer det levendc liv udenfor museet 

og i insrruktoren sclv over de dode voksmodeller af lig, \om 

ligncr indmaden af 10 ttanshtorradiocr". Ann€ Vivel Gom 

opfandt begrebct "videonotar') og Alhn de Waal rager 

(vistnok) lidr gas p! opgavcn (Urmuscet i Dresden) og os. 

Carstcn Thau og Lone Scherfig fonaller os omhyggeligt, ar 

de filmer et "lcncre forrykt og sindrigt udtryk for en ark*o- 

losisk mani" (Sn John Soancs hus). 

Torkil Funder og Bodil Grue-Sorensen tager derimod 

Pitr-Rives musect og dea fossile museumssprog hclt alvor- 

ligt uden ar anfu(e lederens udsagn: "Hvis vi skiftcde til en 

Lrdstillingsforrn, der lige nu er oppe i tidcn, ville vi odelegge 

et encsdende viktoriaask museum og i stedet fi nogcr, som 

snan er umodernc". 

Nermest til cr nasnrupolitis€ bidrzg kommer Cathrine 

Hasse og Nina Sten-Knudrcn, ntu de plviser, at dct emolo- 

giske nuseum i Nuoto gennem sin mlde at sammensrille 

g€rxtandene her plvirket sclve de rraditionet, som udrtil- 

lingen hardler om. 

Smukket er Ketrine Ussings og Peter Seebe€s sensuelle 

billcder fra l: Specolas anatomiske voliskabinet. Men ogsl 

morbidc Si mange lig i s! mange udskzringer! 

Dct er et flot og rosr"ardigt initietiv Nadonalmuscet h{ 

taget, og videoerne horer til dem, man rla,/ have set, for de 

er vagtige mu$eologiske bidng. (OS) 

Jay Anderson (rcd.), A Living History Rcader. Vol. One. 

Museums. American Association for State and tocal 

Hisrory. Nashvillc, Tennessee. 1991. ISBN 0-942063-13-9. 

Siden l950e.nc hr "living history" vundet s.digt stotc 

udbrcdelse som en szrlig muaal formidlingsform og 

arbejdsrnede pl nor&merikanske musccr. "Living hismry", 

dcr tangerer animation og hisorisk simulation, har i ridens 

lob undergiet forandnnger i sin udtrykrform, ligesom ald- 

viteterne ha tilp$set sig nye faglige og muede ltromning- 

er og holdninpr. 

Jay Anderson har i denne bog genoptrykt 29 artikler fre 

1970'ern€ og 80'€rne vedr. €mnet og grupperet dem tema- 

dsk i 7 hwedafsnit. I bopns introduktion prasenrcrer Jay 

Ardenon selv begreber "living hisrory". og iaGniner

NorrsER 

112 "Beginnings" reflekterer rre anikJer de faglige perspektiver 

og en ny historisk helhcdsopfaaelse, som i 1970'erne blev 

forbunder med begrebet living history 

"Living h'srory" prekrheres iser i fribndsmuseer, pl de 

slkaldte Living History Farms, dcr opstod i i USA i 

1970'eme, og pa rekonstruerede foner. I flere aniklcr 

beskrives dct, hvodedes formidlingen praktiseres i disse for- 

skellige muscumsformer og ud fra hvilke ovcwejelser. A.llc 

arriklerne vcdr. do nyc museumsform, "rfie living history 

farm", rummer solide faglige ovewejeher, ligesom aniklerne 

vedr. museumdandsbyerne illustrcrcr forsog pt at etablere 

en ny kulturel og social sammenhzng i formidlingen. 

Bogens sjette t€ma giver eksempler pa, hvorledes "living 

history' kan anvodes som led i museale elsperimenta, der 

fonrinwis er rettet mod en nere dircke opla,er forsdehe af 

foniden iser i undervisningen af skoleelwer, og bogens sid- 

ste del,'Concems", bestlr af syvfonkellige, vegtige anikler, 

der henhol&vh diskuterer og forholder sig mere kritisk ana- 

lyserende til den mnde, hvorpl museerne gennem deres for- 

midling opfarer og gengiver den historiske virkelighed og 

srmmenheng. 

Flere af bogens artiklei km i dag nesten beregnes som 

klassikere. Denne mling af aniklcr er derfor cn let tilgan- 

gelig og samtidig nyttig introdultion til begrebet "living his- 

tory", en museal udtrylsform os arb€jdsmede, som rummcr 

blde muligheder og begru nsninger, og som udvider von tra- 

ditionelle museumsbegreb. Det illustrcrer dennc bredt sam- 

mensrne anikelsamling ud fra mange forskcllige aspekrer. 

(GG) 

Exccllence and Equity. Education and the Public 

Dimension of Museums. A Repon from rle Amerim 

Asociation ofMuseurn. Washingon 1992. ISBN 0-93120- 

t4-4. 

I decenber 1992 antog American Association of Museums 

(AAM) en rappon rned virts)&and€ fitrslag, som g:iller sjd 

kiirnan i musciverksamheten. Rapponen som av AAM givits 

rollen som policydokumcnt, gir ut pt aa ge 6kad tyngd tt 

museernas uppgift rill tj:inst litr samhiillers alla medlemmar, 

samtidigt som museemas Liraade och bildande tunkrion 

skall genomsyra verkamheten i des helhet. Fiirslagen byg- 

ger pt tre grundlaggande tantar: 

- Der mtste komma rill klan uttryrck i varje muscums upp- 

dng, att dct iir undewisninBen, i vid mening, som er den 

cenrrah uppgifren och verkamhcrcns kardinalfrlga. 

- Mus€erna mlste bli mer itpprE och vzilLomnande gentc- 

mot alla olika samh:illstrupper och inom verksamhetens 

sklda Ah spegla samhrllets mtngfald. 

- Museernas resurser skall frig,itras dll allm:inhetens q;insl 

genom krefrtull och dynamisk ledning. 

Det:ir det amerikanska museisamhallcts ansvar, fbrklras det 

i rapponen, an ge alla mcdborgare tillftille aa iika sin kun- 

skap. Museerna skall ge nering it en upplyst, minsklig med- 

borgaranda som rymmer uppskanning for vard€t av his(o- 

risk kunskap omtidigr med engagemang Qir nuet och ftam- 

Rapporten rymmer trav pa lhgrgeende ftirindring. 

Kommitt€n bakon rapponen hr excmpelvis in.e hrir sig 

hindrar att foresll, arr m.n dll ledamitter i mus€isriftelsernar 

sryrelser sk ll vrlja fdre(adare aven fdr and€ samhausgrupper 

an de som vanligen :ir reprmtende. 

Der nya museipolitiska programmcts fowerkligande kan 

fijljas i siiiskilda nyhe$brev frin AAM. H:iri framglr det an 

orgnisationen hunnit st'erta ea nationellt fosknings- och 

uwecklingsprojekr pi wa & omfattandc 13 uwalda museer 

med milsicningen att ftirbattra und€rvisningen och relatio- 

nen till samh:illcl Av nyhetsbreven kan emellcnid ockd 

utl2ilas, att politiken mtit€r kririL. Sn ; fr:gan om fdrdaget 

till nya grunder for val av sryrelseledamdreri man mene arr 

der inte tar hansyn dll der nitdv:indiga i aft v?ilje ledamitcr, 

som kan medverka till privrta ekonomiska bidng. 

Det finns inte minsr bland merikansla museer en benl- 

genhct rill undcrd.inighet mot ea celebert politiskt, ekonomiskt 

och kulturcllt kotteri. Det ar ryd€ligt att A.AM geft dll 

oIl'ensiv ft;r en bcfrielse frnn detta bcroende och tagit sdill- 

ning ft;r den redikala :dnn i mdkansk skapande muei- 

verksamhet. (EH) 

Notiscr *reuet au Ole S*and.gdatd (OS), Eric Hedql)i't (EH) 

os G.du Gorn'rc" (GG).

Nordisk Museologi 1993 no. 2

You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles

Delete template?

Save as template?