MODERN MUSEUMS[2]

The Museums Association is one of the youngest of the numerous social organisations which it is thought expedient at the present day to constitute, in order to give facilities for the interchange of ideas on subjects interesting to a special group of men. It is, indeed, only in the fourth year of its existence, and this is the first time that a meeting has been held in London, the centre in which are gathered the great national collections, and in which reside so considerable a number of persons engaged in their custody. The association claims York as its birthplace, and Liverpool, Cambridge, and Manchester have in succession afforded it hospitality and enjoyed the advantage of its presence.

We all meet with one object in view. We are all impressed with the value--with the necessity, I should say--of the Museum (using the word in its widest sense, as a collection of works of art and of nature) in the intellectual advance of mankind.

How could art make any progress, how could it even exist, if its productions were destroyed as soon as they were created, if there were no museums, private or public, in which they could be preserved and made available to mankind now and hereafter? How could science be studied without ready access to the materials upon which knowledge is built up? In many branches of science the progress is mainly commensurate with the abundance and accessibility of such materials.

Though the first duty of museums is, without question, to preserve the evidence upon which the history of mankind and the knowledge of science is based, any one acquainted with the numerous succession of essays, addresses, lectures, and papers, which constitute the museum literature of the last thirty years, must recognise the gradual development of the conception that the museum of the future is to have for its complete ideal, not only the simple preservation of the objects contained in it, but also their arrangement in such a manner as to provide for the instruction of those who visit it. The value of a museum will be tested not only by its contents, but by the treatment of those contents as a means of the advancement of knowledge. Though this is the general consensus of opinion, as expressed in the literature just referred to, there is naturally still much divergence as to the best methods by which this ideal may be carried out, and there are still many practical difficulties to be overcome before the views so ably advocated on paper can be reduced to the test of actual performance. It is with a hope of assisting in the solution of these difficulties that this Association has been founded.

If in the few words with which I am expected to preface the real work of the meeting I shall be found to dwell too exclusively upon the subject of natural history museums, I must apologise to many friends and members of the Association who are present. It must be distinctly understood that under the word museum we include collections of all kinds formed for the advancement of any branch of knowledge, except those specially devoted to books, which already are cared for by the “Library Association”--on the model of which ours was formed. I hope that in our papers at this meeting and in future presidential addresses we shall have all branches of museum work fairly represented.

It is my fate to have been born what is commonly called a “naturalist.” I hardly remember the time when I was not a possessor of a museum, but it always took a distinctly biological direction. Hence, although by no means unappreciative of other branches of museum work, I shall confine myself chiefly to that part of the subject upon which I can speak from personal experience. Even in this branch, time will compel me to limit myself to observations upon some of the larger questions connected with our subject, leaving details for discussion in our subsequent meetings.

One great difference between the work of the curator of an art museum and that of one devoted to what are called natural history subjects, is that in the case of the former the specimens he has to preserve and exhibit come into his hands very nearly in the condition in which they will have to remain. A picture, a vase, a piece of old armour, or a statue, beyond a certain amount of tender care in cleaning and repairing, which is more or less mechanical in its nature, is ready for its place upon the museum shelves. But this is far from being the case with the greater number of natural objects. Not only do they require special methods of preservation, but very often their value as museum specimens depends entirely upon the skill, labour, patience, and knowledge expended upon them. In specimens illustrating biological subjects the highest powers of the museum curator are called forth. A properly-mounted animal or a carefully-displayed anatomical preparation is in itself a work of art, based upon a natural substratum. In few branches of museum work has there been greater progress in late years than in this, and few offer still further scope for development.

Partly from this cause, and partly from the fact that art has for a longer period and to a greater degree engaged the attention of civilised man than nature, the methods of preservation, arrangement, and exhibition of works of art are on the whole further advanced than are those of natural objects. But no one can deny that there is still in many galleries devoted to the exhibition of works of art of various kinds great room for improvement. There is generally far too great crowding; too many objects so placed that the tallest man cannot see them properly, even when standing on tiptoe; too many others placed so low that they can only be examined by lying down on the floor; too many completely spoiled by the juxtaposition of incongruous objects, or by unsuitable settings. It is only in a very few public museums (I may instance, as a conspicuous example, the splendid museum of antiquities at Naples) that the immense advantage to be gained by ample space and appropriate surroundings in aiding the formation of a just idea of the beauty and interest of each specimen contained in it can be properly appreciated. Correct classification, good labelling, isolation of each object from its neighbours, the provision of a suitable background, and above all of a position in which it can be readily and distinctly seen, are absolute requisites in art museums as well as in those of natural history. Nothing detracts so much from the enjoyment and advantage derived from a visit to a museum as the overcrowding of the specimens exhibited. The development of the new museum idea, to be spoken of later on, will be one way by which this can be remedied in the public galleries; but if museums are what they ought to be, and what I venture to believe they will be in the future, the question of space on a considerably larger scale than has hitherto been thought of will have to be faced. This is of course mainly a matter of expense, and after all but a small matter compared with expenditure now considered necessary in other directions. There are persons who think the country made a tremendous effort in building so much as is yet finished of the new Natural History Museum in the Cromwell Road, and shake their heads at the expenditure asked for either to complete that establishment by the erection of the wings at the sides, or to finish the neighbouring South Kensington Museum in such a manner as worthily to hold its collections, both of art and science. Others would grudge the further expansion of the magnificent series of treasures of ancient and mediæval art in the British Museum at Bloomsbury, of which the country has such just reason to be proud. Let such persons consider that the largest museum yet erected, with all its internal fittings, has not cost so much as a single fully-equipped line-of-battle ship, which in a few years may be either at the bottom of the sea, or so obsolete in construction as to be worth no more than the materials of which it is made. Not that I am deprecating the building of ships necessary for our protection, but rather wishing to show that the cost of such museums as are still required for the proper education of the nation is not such as would produce any sensible impression upon its financial position.

I may make a still more apposite comparison, and point to the vast sums of money spent by this nation upon the whole subject of education now and a few years ago. The total estimate for what is called “Class IV., Education, Science, and Art,” for the financial year 1883-84, amounted to £4,748,556. In ten years it has grown to nearly double that amount, the estimate for 1893-94 being £9,172,216, the increase being mainly due to what is termed “Public Education.” The amount spent upon the development of museums is comparatively insignificant. The British Museum vote (including the library and the natural history branch) has only increased during the same decade from £146,019 to £157,500.[3] The cost of the various museums maintained by the Science and Art Department shows little appreciable augmentation, except in the case of that at Dublin, where I am glad to see £19,035 is now put down instead of the £13,602 of the former period. Compared with the whole amount expended upon other methods of education, national expenditure upon museums and art galleries is at present very small.

In reference to this subject one cannot help considering how much might have been done if only a moderate portion of that large sum of money obtained a few years ago by the tax on brewers, and handed over to the County Councils to spend in promoting technical education, had been used for erecting museums, which might have taken a permanent place in the education of the country. Every subject taught, in order to make the teaching real and practical, should have its collection, and these various collections might all have been associated in the county museum under the same general management. The staff of teachers would assist in the curatorial work, and thus a well-equipped central college for technical education might have been formed in every county, sending out ramifications into the various districts in which the need of special instruction was most felt, and being also the parent of smaller branch museums of the same kind wherever they seem required.

But it is not only in the buildings that the expense of the museums of the future will have to be met. Another great advance must be made before they can be placed upon a satisfactory footing, and perform the functions that can be legitimately expected of them. This is in the elevation of the position and acquirements of those who have the care of them. As I have said on a previous occasion, “What a museum really depends upon for its success and usefulness is not its building, not its cases, not even its specimens, but its curator.”

Speaking in the presence of a number of gentlemen who are curators of museums, do not let me be misunderstood. I do not mean that you are not zealous in the cause and make great sacrifices for it, and do all you can under the often difficult circumstances in which you are placed; but what I mean is--and I am sure you will one and all agree with me when I say it--you are not properly appreciated by the public, and the importance and difficulties of your position are by no means sufficiently understood.

In a civilised community the necessities of life, to say nothing of luxuries (which we do not ask for), but the bare necessities of a man of education and refinement, who has to associate with his equals, and bring up his children to the life of educated and refined people, involve a certain annual expenditure, and the means afforded by any occupation for this necessary expenditure give a rough and ready test of the appreciation in which such occupation is held.

Now, a curator of a museum, if he is fit for his duties, must be a man of very considerable education as well as natural ability. If he is not himself an expert in all the branches of human knowledge his museum illustrates, he must be able to understand and appreciate them sufficiently to know where and how he can supplement his own deficiencies, so as to be able to keep every department up to the proper level. His education, in fact, must be not dissimilar to that required for most of the learned professions. Skill, manual dexterity, and good taste are also most valuable. He must, in addition, if he is to be a success in his vocation, possess various moral qualifications not found in every professional man--punctuality, habits of business, conciliatory manners, and, above all, indomitable and conscientious industry in the discharge of the small and somewhat monotonous routine duties which constitute so large a part of a curator’s life. Such being the requirements of the profession, let us see what are the inducements offered to men to take it up as a means of livelihood. I really am sorry to have to speak of such a sordid subject, but I know it is one you naturally shrink from talking of yourselves. You would be the last people in the world to take the remedy, now so often resorted to by other classes, into your own hands. A strike of curators is hardly to be contemplated. Remember, also, that I am not speaking of this subject in your interest, or the interests of any individuals. Whether any of you personally should have your emoluments, your social position, your opportunities for good, improved, is not now with me an object of concern: it is in the interest of that great question, the advance of the museum as a means of educating, cultivating, and elevating mankind, that I am speaking--an advance that can only be effectively made when the curatorship of a museum is looked upon as an honourable and desirable profession for men of high intellectual acquirements.

Let me take a few examples of the inducements to enter this profession at the present time. I have before me some recent advertisements. The curator of the Museum of the Philosophical and Literary Society of one of the largest and most flourishing of our manufacturing cities is offered £125 a year for his services. In another town, smaller and less wealthy, it is true, “a resident curator, meteorological observer, and caretaker, is wanted for the museum and library buildings, at a salary of £50 per annum, with rooms, coal, and gas. Applicants are to state age and _scientific_ qualifications.”

In a recent newspaper discussion upon the establishment of a museum in one of the midland counties, after it had been pointed out that one of the prime necessities of such an institution was a provision for the maintenance of a curator, a leading gentleman of the district, a zealous and sympathetic advocate of the cause, perfectly acquiescing in this view, suggested that £100 a year should by all means be set aside for this purpose!

It is frequently my lot to be consulted by anxious parents of sons who develop a taste for museum work, as to what such a taste will lead to if cultivated. I need hardly say that, however much I may wish our ranks to be recruited by such enthusiastic aspirants,--boys often of great ability and promise,--I cannot conscientiously offer much encouragement. The best I can say is, that I hope things will be better in the future than they are at present. As far as the Metropolitan museums are concerned there has been some improvement, and I think that indications are not wanting that this improvement will continue and extend.

I have referred at the beginning of this address to the great amount of recent literature upon the museum question, consisting largely of depreciation of the old ways of arranging museums, of suggestions for their improvement in the future, and mainly of the development of what may be called _the new museum idea_. What this idea is was tersely expressed nearly thirty years ago by the late Dr. John Edward Gray in his address to the British Association at Bath (1864) as President of Section D, when near the close of his long career as administrator of a collection which by his exertions he had made the largest of the kind in the world. Dr. Gray laid down the axiom that the purposes for which a museum was established were two--“first, the diffusion of instruction and rational amusement among the mass of the people, and, secondly, to afford the scientific student every possible means of examining and studying the specimens of which the museum consists.” He then continued: “Now, it appears to me that in the desire to combine these two objects, which are essentially distinct, the first object--namely, the general instruction of the people--has been to a great extent lost sight of and sacrificed to the second without any corresponding advantage to the latter, because the system itself has been thoroughly erroneous.”

This was a remarkable admission, coming from a man who had been brought up in, and had acted throughout the greater part of his life upon, the old idea; but it clearly expressed what was then beginning to be felt by many who turned their unbiassed attention to the subject, and it is the keynote of nearly all the museum reform of recent date. During the long discussion which followed, the new idea found powerful advocates in Huxley, Hooker, Sclater, Wallace, and others; but Owen, whose official position made him the chief scientific adviser in the construction of the new National Museum of Natural History, never became reconciled to it, and, unfortunately, threw all the weight of his great authority into the opposite scale.

The method of application of this principle depends entirely upon the general nature of the museum, whether that of a nation, a town, a school, or a society or institution established to cultivate some definite branch of knowledge. It is mainly of national museums that I am speaking at present, and it is only in national museums that the fulfilment of both functions in fairly equal proportions can be expected. In almost all other museums the diffusion of knowledge, or popular education, will be the primary function; and if the true principles of arrangement of such museums be once grasped, this is a function which can be carried out upon the largest or the smallest, or any intermediate scale, according to the means of the institution and the requirements of the locality.

The collections for the advancement of science, on the other hand, are of value mainly in proportion to their size, and no museum at present existing has come anywhere near what is required for the exhaustive study of natural history. If any one were now to endeavour to write a complete monograph of any family in the animal kingdom, he would search in vain for materials for doing so, not only in any one museum, but in all the museums in the world put together.

Soon after the arrival in our National History Museum of the great and carefully selected and labelled collection of Indian birds, presented by Mr. A. O. Hume, containing upwards of 60,000 specimens, a well-known ornithologist commenced the volumes devoted to birds in the excellent series of manuals on the fauna of British India, edited by Mr. Blanford. I am told that when he began the work, he was seen sitting at his table rubbing his hands with delight at the prospect of success in his labours guaranteed by such an unprecedented mass of material. But after a few weeks the scene had changed. He was pacing up and down the room, wringing the same hands in despair at the hopelessness of solving the tangled problems of the variation according to age, sex, season, and locality, the geographical distribution, and the limits and relationship of any single species, owing to the absolutely insufficient number of properly authenticated specimens at his command. Every zoologist will recognise this as a scarcely exaggerated description of what he meets with at every step of his work. Except, perhaps, for some special and limited groups, which may be taken up in private collections, a national museum alone can possibly attempt to bring together the materials required for such exhaustive work; but it is undoubtedly the duty of all national museums to endeavour to do this. There should be, in every great nation, one establishment at least where such problems may be attacked with some prospect of success, and the only conditions upon which collections for this purpose can be maintained are, that they should be so arranged as to occupy the smallest possible space compatible with their proper preservation and convenience of access, that they should be removed from all the deteriorating influences of light and dust, and at the same time be perfectly available for the closest examination by all those whose knowledge is sufficient to enable them to extract any information from them. This means that they cannot be _exhibited_ in the ordinary sense of the word; although it must not be supposed that they are on that account in less need of orderly and methodical arrangement. There is certainly a danger of collections which are not generally exhibited becoming neglected, and degenerating into the condition of mere accumulations of rubbish. Anything of the kind is absolutely incompatible with the true requirements of specimens kept for research. They specially need to be arranged in an orderly and methodical manner, and to be thoroughly well catalogued and labelled, so that each may be found directly it is wanted, and they must be frequently inspected to see that they are free from moth or other deleterious influence. The object of keeping them in this condition is, indeed, that they should be preserved and not destroyed, as ultimately happens to so many exhibited specimens. Much curatorial ingenuity may be exercised in the methods of stowing and arranging such specimens to the best advantage. The conditions of access to them will be precisely those now accorded to books or manuscripts in a library, prints and drawings in an art museum, or the records and public documents in the Rolls Office or Somerset House.

As the actual comparison of specimen with specimen is the basis of zoological and botanical research, and as work done with imperfect materials is necessarily imperfect in itself, it is far the wisest policy to concentrate in a few great central institutions, the number and situation of which must be determined by the population and resources of the country, all the collections which are required for the prosecution of original research. These are especially those containing author’s types or the actual specimens upon which species have been established, and which must be appealed to through all time to settle vexed questions of nomenclature. It is far more advantageous to the investigator to go to such a collection, and take up his temporary abode there while his research is being carried out, with all the material at his hand at once, than to travel from place to place and pick up piecemeal the information he requires, without opportunity of direct comparison of the specimens one with another.

On the other hand, in local museums such collections are not only not required, but add greatly to the trouble and expense of the maintenance of the institution, without any compensating advantage. Here it will be the duty of the curator to develop the side of the museum which is educational and attractive to the general visitor and to all who wish to obtain that knowledge which is the ambition of many cultivated persons to acquire without becoming specialists or experts. The study of the methods by which such museums may be made instructive and interesting offers an endless field for experiment and discussion, and the various problems connected with it are treated of not only in the literature I have referred to, but in a more practical manner in many museums in various parts of the world.

Without pursuing this question further at the present time, I should like to repeat, from a previous address on the same subject,[4] certain propositions which are fundamental in the arrangement of collections of the class of which I am now speaking.

The number of the specimens must be strictly limited, according to the nature of the subject to be illustrated and the space available. None must be placed either too high or too low for ready examination. There must be no crowding of specimens one behind the other, every one being perfectly and distinctly seen, and with a clear space around it. If an object is worth putting into a gallery at all, it is worth such a position as will enable it to be seen. Every specimen exhibited should be good of its kind, and all available skill and care should be spent upon its preservation, and rendering it capable of teaching the lesson it is intended to convey. Every specimen should have its definite purpose, and no absolute duplicate should on any account be admitted. Above all, the purpose for which each specimen is exhibited, and the main lesson to be derived from it, must be distinctly indicated by the labels affixed, both as headings of the various divisions of the series and to the individual specimens.

These are the principles of what may be called the New Museum idea as applied to national museums of natural history. It is a remarkable coincidence that since they were first enunciated, and during the time of their discussion, but before they had met with anything like universal acceptance, the four first nations of Europe almost simultaneously erected in their respective capitals--London, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin--entirely new buildings, on a costly, even palatial scale, to receive the natural history collections, which in each case had quite outgrown their previous insufficient accommodation. In the construction of neither of these four edifices can the guardians of the public purse be accused of want of liberality. Each building is a monument in itself of the appreciation of the government of the country of the value and interest of the natural history sciences. So far this is most satisfactory. Now that each is more or less completed, at all events for the present, and its contents in a fair way towards a permanent arrangement, it may not be without interest on the present occasion to give some comparative account of their salient features, especially with a view to ascertain whether and to what extent their construction and arrangement have complied with the requirements of the modern idea of such institutions.

It may seem ungrateful to those who have so liberally responded to the urgent representations of men of science by providing the means of erecting these splendid buildings, to suggest that if they had all been delayed for a few years the result might have been more satisfactory. The effects of having been erected in what may be called a transitional period of museum ideas is more or less evident in all, and all show traces of compromise, or rather adaptation to new ideas of structures avowedly designed for old ones. In none, perhaps, is this more strikingly shown than in our own,--built, unfortunately, before any of the others, and so without the advantages of the experience that might have been gained from their successes or their shortcomings. Though a building of acknowledged architectural beauty, and with some excellent features, it cannot be taken structurally as a model museum, when the test of adaptation to the purpose to which it is devoted is rigidly applied. But to speak of its defects is an ungracious and uncongenial task for me. If it were not taking me too far away from my present subject I would rather speak of the admirable manner in which the staff are endeavouring to carry out the new idea under somewhat disadvantageous circumstances.

The new zoological museum in the Jardin des Plantes at Paris is a glorification of the old idea pure and simple. It consists of one huge hall, with galleries and some annexes, in which every specimen is intended to be exhibited, more or less imperfectly, on alternate periods, to students and to the general public. The building and cases are very handsome in style, and there are endless rows of specimens of all kinds neatly mounted in a uniform manner. There are no store-rooms, no laboratories, no workrooms, connected with the building. These are all in other more or less distant parts of the establishment, separated from it in most cases by the whole breadth of the garden. Of course this can only be looked upon as a temporary condition of affairs. Fortunately there is still room on the site of the old museum behind the new building, and if this is utilised by erecting upon it a commodious set of workrooms, laboratories, rooms for reserve collections, and administrative offices directly in connection with each other and with the main building, which might then be emptied of a considerable portion of its contents, an extremely good working museum may be evolved. But if this space, as I believe was the original design, is used for the further extension of the already disproportionately large public galleries, the opportunity will be lost.

The new museums at Vienna, the one for natural history, the other for art, placed one on each side of a handsome public garden in one of the most important quarters of the city, exactly alike in size and architectural features, are elegant buildings, and present many excellent features of construction. The natural history museum, which was alone finished when I visited Vienna three years ago, is a quadrilateral structure with a central court, and consists of three stories and a basement. Each story is divided into a number of moderately-sized rooms, opening one into another, so that by passing along in the same direction the visitor can make an inspection in systematic order of all the collections arranged in each story, returning to the point from whence he started; or, if need be, breaking off at the middle, where a passage of communication runs across the central court. An admirable feature in the design of this museum is, that the public galleries of each story, lighted by windows from the outside of the building, have on their inner side other rooms communicating with them, and lighted from the court within, which are devoted to the private studies of the curators and to the reserve collections belonging to the same series as the exhibited collections in the public galleries, with which they are in connection. Thus the public collections, the reserve collections, and the officers in charge, are in each section of the museum brought into close relation--a most advantageous arrangement, and one greatly facilitating the new museum idea. The only drawback is that these rooms, occupying the inner side of the quadrangular range of galleries, are necessarily small, and, as the collections grow, will be found insufficient for the purpose. This has, in fact, already proved to be the case in several departments, and a remedy has been found by devoting the whole upper story of the building to the reserve collections of insects, shells, and plants, and the working library of the institution,--an arrangement which gives excellent accommodation for these important departments, at all events for the present. A great difficulty will, however, arise in the future owing to the building being externally architecturally complete and visible on all four sides from the public grounds in which it stands; it therefore admits of no extension, and the public galleries already contain as many specimens as can possibly be placed in them with any advantage. These are in most sections, especially the invertebrata, displayed in an extremely tasteful and instructive manner, but the series is by no means over-large for a national museum. The limitation of space is partly due to the somewhat singular division which has been made between the art and the natural history collections. Instead of taking the dividing line adopted at the British Museum between specimens in a state of nature and those fashioned by man’s hand, the pictures, the splendid collection of European mediæval armour, the classical and Egyptian antiquities, are treated as works of art; but the so-called ethnological collection, containing the specimens of Mexican, Peruvian, Japanese, Chinese, Polynesian, African, and prehistoric European art, are placed in the Natural History Museum, taking up a large portion of the space which the curators of the zoological, mineralogical, and geological departments hoped to have had at their disposal for the display of their specimens. Whether room could have been found for them in the Art Museum or not, I cannot say; but certainly their actual position is incongruous, and it is difficult to understand why a Peruvian mummy should find its place in a building professedly devoted to natural history, while the preserved remains of the ancient Egyptians are treated as works of art.

Before leaving Vienna I should like to refer to the splendid specimens of taxidermy by the artist Hodek, the choicest examples of whose work are contained in a special collection, occupying a small separate room, consisting of sporting trophies of the late Crown Prince, Rudolph. Otherwise the general level of the specimens in the galleries is in no wise remarkable. The birds have the advantage of being mounted, not upon turned wooden stands of uniform pattern as in Paris, but upon pieces of natural tree branches, fixed in square or oblong oak-stands. The exhibited specimens of vertebrate zoology include skeletons, but no other anatomical preparations, of which there is a distinct collection in the University Museum. The exhibited fishes and reptiles are exceedingly well preserved and mounted in spirit. In the Mollusca, Articulata, Echinoderms, and Corals, great care has been taken in setting the specimens off to advantage by selecting appropriate colours for backgrounds. Specimens in spirit are interspersed in their proper places. All have printed labels. The cases in which they are displayed are of oak, and of very handsome and even ornamental construction.

The arrangement of all these collections displays a most intelligent appreciation of the needs of the ordinary visitor. Thus in the room appropriated for the exhibition of insects there are three distinct series--a general systematic series, a morphological series, and a very fine special collection of the insects of the neighbourhood of Vienna. The other rooms are arranged more or less on similar principles. The main collection of insects is, as I have mentioned before, entirely apart in rooms very well adapted to the purpose, in the upper floor of the building, and kept as usual in drawers in cabinets.

The zoological portion of the new museum for “Naturkunde,” in Berlin, situated in the Invaliden Strasse, is a remarkable illustration of the complete revolution of ideas on museum arrangement, which took place between its commencement and its completion. The building, entirely designed upon the old system, came empty into the hands of the present director, who has arranged the contents absolutely upon the new method. It consists of a fine glass-covered hall, and three stories of galleries, all originally intended for a uniform exhibition of all the various groups of specimens which had accumulated in the crowded rooms of the old museum in the University. When Dr. Möbius succeeded to the directorate, he conceived the bold plan of limiting the public exhibition to the ground floor, and devoting the two upper stories entirely to the reserve or working collections. This was a step which required some courage to take, especially as the two great staircases, which are the principal ornamental architectural features of the building, have by it become practically useless. Except, of course, for certain inconveniences always resulting from adaptation of a building to purposes not originally contemplated, especially local disjunction of different series of the same groups, the result has been eminently satisfactory; and if the arrangement is completed upon the lines laid down by the Director, as explained to me on my last visit, this will be the most practical and conveniently arranged museum of natural history at present existing. As much attention appears to be bestowed upon making the exhibited portion attractive and instructive, as on making the reserve collections complete and accessible to workers. In the former, the characteristics of the native fauna were being specially developed. For instance, the fish collection (of which the individual specimens are beautifully displayed in spirit, fastened on to glass plates in flat-sided jars) consists of a general representative systematic series, and three special faunistic collections, one of the German freshwater fishes, one of the north and east sea fishes, and one of the Mediterranean fishes. One room is devoted to German mammals and birds, and the recently added specimens show indications of an improvement in taxidermy which would have been impossible in the old days of wholesale bird-stuffing. Excellently prepared anatomical specimens, diagrams, explanatory labels, and maps showing geographical distribution, are abundantly introduced among the dried specimens of which such collections are usually composed, and a commencement has been made of illustrations of habits and natural surroundings. On the other hand, in marked contrast to Vienna, everything in the way of architecture and furniture and fittings is severely plain and practical, and a uniform drab colour is the pervading background for all kinds of specimens. All danger from fire seems to have been most carefully guarded against. The floors are of artificial stone, the cases, and even the shelving, are constructed of glass and iron. Wood is almost entirely excluded, both in the structure and fittings. The ground floor, as I have said, is entirely devoted to the public exhibition, the first story to the reserve collection of vertebrates, and the upper story to the invertebrates; and the basement contains commodious rooms for unpacking, mounting, preparing skeletons, etc. The construction of the building allows of considerable extension backwards, whenever more space will be needed, at small cost and with little interference with existing arrangements. I should also mention that the zoological department of the University, with its admirably appointed laboratories and lecture rooms, and excellent working collections for teaching purposes, is in immediate contact with the museum, and the two institutions, though under different direction, are thus brought into harmonious co-operation.

Any one who wishes to compare and contrast the two systems upon which a national zoological museum may be arranged cannot do better than visit Paris and Berlin at the present time. He will see excellent illustrations of the best of both.

Of the museums of the United States of America much may be expected. They are starting up in all directions, untrammelled by the restrictions and traditions which envelop so many of our old institutions at home, and many admirable essays on museum work have reached us from the other side of the Atlantic, from which it appears that the new idea has taken firm root there. In Mr. Brown Goode’s lecture on “The Museums of the Future” (Report of the National Museum, 1888-89) it is said: “In the National Museum in Washington the collections are divided into two great classes,--the exhibition series, which constitutes the educational portion of the museum, and is exposed to public view with all possible accessories for public entertainment and instruction; and the study series, which is kept in scientific laboratories, and is scarcely examined except by professional investigators. In every properly constructed museum the collections must, from the very beginning, divide themselves into these two classes, and in planning for its administration provision should be made not only for the exhibition of objects in glass cases, but for the preservation of large collections not available for exhibition, to be used for the studies of a very limited number of specialists.”

The museum of comparative zoology at Harvard, founded by the late Louis Agassiz, and now ably administered and extended by his son, Alexander Agassiz, is a conspicuous example of the same method of construction and arrangement. But as I can say nothing of these from personal knowledge, I am obliged to leave out any further reference to them on the present occasion.

From what has just been said it will be gathered that in Europe, at least, an ideal natural history museum, perfect in original design as well as in execution, does not exist at present. We have indeed hardly yet come to an agreement as to the principles upon which such a building should be constructed. But as there are countries which have still their national museums in the future, and as those already built are susceptible of modifications, when the right direction has been determined on, I should be glad to take this opportunity of putting on record what appears to me, after long reflection on the subject, the main considerations which should not be lost sight of in such an undertaking.

In the first place, I have endeavoured to work out in detail, in its application to natural history, that most original and theoretically perfect plan for a museum of exhibited objects in which there are two main lines of interest running in different directions and intersecting each other, which we owe to the ingenuity of General Pitt-Rivers. This was explained in his address as President of the Anthropological Section of the British Association at Bath in 1888, and again in a lecture given about two years ago before the Society of Arts.[5] Upon this plan the museum building would consist of a series of galleries in the form of circles, one within the other, and communicating at frequent intervals. Each circle would represent an epoch in the world’s history, commencing in the centre and finishing at the outermost, which would be that in which we are now living. The history of each natural group would be traced in radiating lines, and so by passing from the centre to the circumference, its condition of development in each period of the world’s history could be studied. If, on the other hand, the subject for investigation should be the general fauna or flora of any particular epoch, it would be found in natural association by confining the attention to the circle representing that period. By such an arrangement, that most desirable object, the union of palæontology with the zoology and botany of existing forms in one natural scheme, could be perfectly carried out, as both the structural and the geological relations of each would be preserved, and indicated by its position in the museum. Such a building would undoubtedly offer difficulties in practical construction; but even if these could be got over, our extremely imperfect knowledge of the past history of animal and plant life would make its arrangement, with all the gaps and irregularities that would become evident, so unsatisfactory that I can scarcely hope to see it adopted in the near future.

I have therefore brought before you a humbler plan, but one which, I think, will be found to embody the practical principles necessary in a working museum of almost any description, large or small.

The fundamental idea of this plan is that the whole of the building should be divided by lines intersecting at right angles, like the warp and the woof of a piece of canvas.

The lines in one direction (see Plan, next page) divide the different natural sections of which the collection is composed, and which it is convenient to keep apart; the lines crossing these separate the portions of the collection according to the method of treatment or conservation. Thus, the exhibited part of the whole collection will come together in a series of rooms, occupying naturally the front of the building. The reserve collections will occupy another, or the middle, section; and beyond these will be the working rooms, studies, and administrative offices, all in relations to each other, as

well as to the particular part of the collection to which they belong. A glance at the plan will show at once the great convenience of such a system, both for the public, and still more for those who work in the museum.

This plan, of course, contemplates a one-storied, top-lighted building, as far as the main rooms are concerned, although the workrooms and studies will be in two or more stories. The main rooms should all have a good substantial gallery running round them, by means of which their wall space is doubled. There is no question whatever that an evenly-diffused top light is far the best for exhibition rooms. Windows not only occupy the valuable wall space, but give all kinds of uncomfortable cross lights, interspersed with dark intervals. On the other hand, for doing any kind of delicate work, a good north light from a window, as provided in the plan, is the most suitable. The convenience of having all the studies in relation with each other, and with the central administrative offices, while each one is also in close contiguity with the section of the collection to which it belongs, will, I am sure, be appreciated by all who are acquainted with the capriciously scattered position of such rooms in most large museums, notably in our own. Among other advantages would be the very great one, that when the daily hour of closing the main building arrives, the officers need no longer, as at present, be interrupted in whatever piece of work they may have at hand, and turned out of the building, but, as arrangements could easily be made for a separate exit, they could continue their labours as long and as late as they find it convenient to do so, without any fear for the safety of the general collections.

It will be observed that provision is made for a central hall, which is always a good architectural feature at the entrance of a building, and which in a large museum is certainly useful in providing for the exhibition of objects of general interest not strictly coming under any of the divisions of the subject in the galleries, or possibly for specimens of too great a size to be conveniently exhibited elsewhere. There is also provision in the central part of the building for the refreshment-rooms, as well as for the library and a lecture room, the first being an essential, and the latter a very useful adjunct to any collection intended for popular instruction, even if no strictly systematic teaching should be part of its programme.

I may point out, lastly, as a great advantage of this plan, that it can be, if space is reserved or obtainable, indefinitely extended on both sides on exactly the same system without in any way interfering with the existing arrangements; a new section, containing exhibition and reserve galleries and studies, can be added as required at either end, either for the reception of new departments, or for the expansion of the old ones. With a view to the latter it is most important that the fittings should be as little as possible of the nature of fixtures, but should all be so constructed as to be readily removable and interchangeable. This is a point I would strongly impress upon all who are concerned in fitting up museums, either large or small.

The modifications of this plan, to adapt it to the requirements of a municipal, school, or even village museum, will consist mainly in altering the relative proportion of the two sections of the collection. The majority of museums in country localities require little, if anything, beyond the exhibition series. In this the primary arrangement to be aimed at is, first, absolutely to separate the archæological, historical, and art portions of the collection from the natural history, if, as will generally be the case, both are to be represented in the museum. If possible they should be in distinct rooms. The second point is to divide each branch into two sections: (1) a strictly limited general or type collection, arranged upon a purely educational plan; (2) a local collection, consisting only of objects found within a certain well-defined radius around the museum, which should be as exhaustive as possible. Nothing else should be attempted, and therefore reserve collections are unnecessary. Even the insects and dried plants can be exhibited on some such plans as those adopted for the Walsingham collection of Lepidoptera in the Zoological Department, or the collection of British plants in the Botanical Department of our Natural History Museum.

I have elsewhere indicated my views as to the objects most suitable for, and the best arrangement of them in, school museums,[6] so I need say nothing further on the subject now. Indeed, I fear I have exhausted your patience, so I will conclude by expressing an earnest hope that this meeting may prove a stimulus to all of us to continue heartily and thoroughly at our work, which I hardly need say is the only way to ensure that general recognition of it which we all so much desire.