One of the perks of working for a major national museum is the reciprocal agreement in place with other institutions to allow staff free or discounted entry to exhibitions. Notwithstanding the rain and gales last Saturday, I waded to Georgians Revealed at the British Library; followed by a brisk walk through Clerkenwell to the Museum of London, for The Cheapside Hoard. My umbrella only turned inside-out six times in one afternoon, which was a considerable achievement.
Eighteenth-century Londoners would have known and sympathised with the perils of the metropolis in bad weather, although the British Library’s exploration of eighteenth-century picnics and garden design ensured that Georgians Revealed was a much sunnier exhibition than the time of year warranted. The visitor is first ushered through an introductory space containing the portraits of the four Georges, from dour Hanoverian the First through to flamboyant partier the Fourth. Hanging overhead (and somewhat confusingly arranged) is a timeline of key events punctuated by reproduced prints and caricatures of the period.
Not until one steps down into the main exhibition space is the focus of the exhibition made clearer. This is, first and foremost, an exhibition about the development of the British middle class during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; with its attendant explosion in consumer culture and commoditised leisure. The Georgians of the exhibition’s title are, in fact, the approximate third of Britain’s population who could have reasonably been described as bourgeois: professional men, successful merchants, and their families. The growth of this social group, and its propensity to express its identity and taste through material objects and practices, is explored through a series of themed displays; from domestic architecture and design, to the glamour and scandal of the theatrical world.
As one would expect at the British Library, the items on display are predominantly paper-based – books, prints, manuscripts and drawings. In one respect this makes perfect sense, as the exhibition deals with a period marked by a dramatic growth in literacy and print production. New forms of cultural output, such as the literary novel or the satirical print, were both a product and catalyst of this new ‘golden age’ of printing; to say nothing of the trade cards, playbills and other printed ephemera on display.
Appropriate as it may be, however, I can’t help but feel that the exhibition suffers slightly from the paucity of non-paper objects on display. There are a few interesting loans (most of which seem to be from the Museum of London), including the aforementioned picnic set, shoe buckles, and a tea-table all set for company. It seems like an omission not to display more commodity-objects and luxury goods in an exhibition all about the middle classes and their forms of consumption. Fascinating as the printed and manuscript items on display are, their presentation in cases somewhat detracts from their immediacy and impact. Books and letters should be pored over and leafed through to be fully appreciated; whereas ceramics, textiles, instruments and objects of personal adornment can better sustain scrutiny behind glass.
Nonetheless, I do think that this show makes for a very strong introduction to everyday life in eighteenth-century Britain, covering a broad but coherent range of social and cultural themes. I confess that at times I found myself skimming parts of the display, but this was a result of having already seen the object or image during previous research. One of the disadvantages of having studied a historical period or phenomenon in-depth is that it’s very difficult to leave a show on the subject with the feeling that something radically new has been learned. Georgians Revealed is not radical; rather, it is a thorough introduction to a radical age.
The ‘I’ve-Seen-This-Before’ feeling was less of an issue when viewing The Cheapside Hoard: London’s Lost Jewels at the Museum of London: an exhibition of Elizabethan-era jewellery hidden at some point in the 1640s, and recovered during building works in the early twentieth century. Apparently reading Wolf Hall (twice!) does not make me an expert on this period, and so I was quite happy to relinquish any pretence at expertise and go into this exhibition with only a general knowledge of the historical context. The actual process of entering the exhibition anticipates the drama of the show, as one must discard all coats and bags for security reasons before passing through a villainous metal turnstile. (There are lockers. Bring a £1 coin. Seriously). Presumably this excess precaution is for insurance purposes, but it certainly serves to heighten expectations as well.
Emerald salamander brooch, c. 1600s. Photo courtesy of the Museum of London.
Heightened expectations are not disappointed: The Cheapside Hoard manages to satisfy the magpie instinct while still presenting a thoughtful overview of the social significance of jewellery and its manufacture in early modern London. Before the slightest hint of gold can be seen, visitors advance through a series of contextual displays that deal with the practice of goldsmithing, the importance of trade guilds, and the history of Cheapside itself as a centre for manufacture and trade. It’s good preparation for understanding what one is about to view, and serves to increase anticipation further. Finally – turn the corner – gold! Gold, gems, pearls, enamel, as far as you can see. The jewels are arranged mainly by type – chains, rings, pendants, etc. Magnifying glasses are thoughtfully provided for viewing fine details – for which reason I strongly recommend visiting ‘off-peak’, as half-a-dozen visitors huddled round a case with magnifiers doesn’t exactly make for a relaxed experience.
Though the displays are arranged by type, the interpretation does an excellent job of developing clear themes across the show. The process of jewellery manufacture, the symbolism of certain gems and styles, and the relationship between jewellery and fashions in clothing, are all extrapolated effectively; assisted by the display of contemporary portraits showing sitters in their jewels. One theme I found particularly fascinating was that of gemstones’ mystic properties – the belief that certain stones, worn in certain ways, could ward off diseases or misfortune. It’s a discourse that sounds more at home in the ancient Roman period than in Elizabethan or Jacobean London, perhaps supporting the theory that London’s collective memory is a long one.
Reaching the end of the display, the question of ‘what happened to the Hoard?’ is finally addressed. My one issue with this exhibition is that, while the Museum of London’s marketing and promotion has really pushed the ‘mystery’ of the Cheapside Hoard and the various theories for its burial as the show’s key revelation, in fact we are given only a short text and film on the notion that the Civil War was somehow involved. This is addressed more extensively in the book which accompanies the exhibition, by curator Hazel Forsyth. It’s a shame not to make it clearer in-show, because a more definitive interpretation – or at least, more detailed analysis of the possible interpretations – would have been a fitting climax to this dramatic and sumptuous show. It doesn’t detract from the jewels themselves, however – they survived for four hundred years in secret, and can probably survive another four hundred in the public eye.
Georgians Revealed, until 11 March 2014, British Library.
The Cheapside Hoard: London’s Lost Jewels, until 27 April 2014, Museum of London.
The Droll Hackabout 