One of the fantasies of my childhood was to be locked in a museum overnight. All by myself, alone with the treasures collected, and able to touch anything I wanted without being scolded by an officious guard. I would sometimes wonder if the sculptures spoke when no one was around. When I was slightly older, I adjusted my conceit to imagining what it would be like to be a cat burglar released on my own to wander the halls of collected antiquities and help myself.
A form of these fantasies almost came true in my sixteenth year when I visited the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford very late one weekday afternoon and, as I was studying some shard of ancient lore, I was suddenly aware that, after hearing what seemed to be the sound of stout doors being closed and locked, the lights were being turned off. I had a moment of hesitation. Should I make myself known as quickly as possible to the security staff, or should I try to hide behind a stray mummy and spend the night in fulfillment of my childhood fantasy?
I chose the former, unfortunately, since I didn’t fancy spending jail time at the pleasure of Her Majesty. However, in my dotage, I occasionally regret that decision.
The object of my distraction was The Alfred Jewel, a small enameled piece that dates to circa 800 A.D. and may have served as the head-stock to some form of stick or practical tool. According to its inscription, it was commissioned by King Alfred the Great himself. As often happens with objects of antiquity, it was discovered accidentally. In this case, 800 years later by a laborer while plowing his squire’s field.
While that may be the museum’s most popular display, one that has inspired and encouraged generations of amateur archaeologists, these days armed with increasingly effective metal detectors, it is housed with other works of various quality and importance, rendered by some of the great characters in English history.
Among its treasured items are the following, but I'm particularly covetous of Guy Fawkes' lantern and an ewer fashioned from lapis lazuli.
Descending from a 17th century nobleman's "cabinet of curiosities", the Ashmolean Museum rests on a pleasant street near Balliol and St. John's Colleges and within a skip from Blackfriars, a place where Evensong is sung most days for Vespers. The original collection included items brought back to England by travelers, explorers, natural philosophers, and various brigands. Eventually, the collection grew so that new digs were to be found in the 1840's, when the cabinet became a proper museum, named for its original owner, patron, and notorious alchemist, Elias Ashmole.
Of particular note, the Ashmolean once had the stuffed remains of the last European dodo. Unfortunately, it was consumed by moths sometime in the 1750's. However, it's skull is still on display. Just ask for "The Oxford Dodo".
The museum continues to expand and offers so many courses hosted by lecturers from the University in so many topics that the suffix, "late of the Ashmolean", is regarded as a bit of a cliche. Still, it has inspired a rich variety of people, from students to clergy to housewives and husbands, and not just those with an interest in antiquities. As well it should, since one of its laborers in the early part of the 20th century, an undergrad from St. John's, known as Ned Lawrence, would become yet another of its benefactors after he took on the suffix, "of Arabia".
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| Lawrence's Arabic apparel, which is also to be found in the Ashmolean |