No Need to Cry “May Day”—Museums Offer Free Content Online

Happy May Day! I hope you are staying safe, healthy, and sane! To assist with the last, I thought you might like to know that a number of museums are sharing online content that makes the hearts of history geeks go pitter-patter.

For example, the British Museum is sharing tidbits from its extensive holdings across the ages and the world. One caution: if you move through history too fast (okay, I might have been a bit giddy!), you might experience a little motion sickness in this interactive platform. 

The National Gallery of Art in Washington DC has partnered with Google to provide a perspective on historical fashion in Fashioning a Nation. 

And then there’s the maritime museums. Le sigh. As you may remember, I’m a big fan of tall ships, the tall-masted sailing vessels of bygone years. My dear Marissa once took me to visit Connecticut’s Mystic Seaport (can you tell she knows me well?), so I was particularly delighted to learn that the museum, which recreates a nineteenth-century seafaring community, is making many of its delights available for online viewing. 

The Penobscot Marine Museum in Searsport, Maine, is posting excerpts on its Facebook page from the 1892 diary of Ernest W. Perkins as he sails from Boston to Buenos Aires on the barquentine Mabel I Meyers. Fascinating!

The Grays Harbor Historical Seaport, home of my beloved Lady Washington, has also posted a number of videos on its Facebook page showing how to set sails. Oh, but it makes me want to be on the Lady right now!

Have you seen other museums offering online options related to the nineteenth century? Please share!

How to Win the Lottery, Nineteenth Century Style

Millions of dollars at stake, thousands of people lined up for tickets, dozens of schemes covering which tickets to buy and whether to share tickets in a pool of people for maximum impact--sound familiar?  It wasn't unfamiliar to those in early nineteenth century England either.  The government regularly held lotteries from 1566 to 1826, all to help fund state programs such as the development of the British Museum.

In the beginning, the state lottery was actually more of an investment program.  Only so many tickets were sold, and many to wealthy families.  The government held the money in trust and drew interest on it for up to 3 years, then each ticket holder received a share of the prizes.  Imagine--no losers!  Prizes might include silver plate and china as well as money.  But all that changed in the late 1700s to a system more like what we have today--merely a chance to win a certain amount of money.

At the same time, the government awarded contracts to brokers to sell the tickets.  These brokers in turn hired agents who could be rather bold in their attempts to sell the tickets.  Broadsheets advertised the opportunities, and many were quite creative.  One lamented that love was difficult to come by, but money wasn't--just buy a lottery ticket!  Lottery "insurance" men went around badgering people to subscribe, offering the lure of quick riches to a populace sunk in poverty.  Some called the desire to participate "lottery influenza" because it was widespread and pernicious. 

If you couldn't afford the price of a full ticket, you could buy a half, quarter, eighth, or sixteenth, with your prize being commensurately lower.  Though August was a favorite month, with a drawing every Monday and Thursday, other lotteries were held at other times of the year, such as Valentine's Day (not my idea of a romantic way to celebrate!). 

Some felt it immoral to gamble on the lottery.  Others took advantage of the practice.  An entire side industry grew up allowing people to wager on various aspects of the lottery, such as which ticket was more likely to win.  Police advocate and magistrate Patrick Colquhoun estimated that the money raised by such secondary schemes was equal to what the government was getting from the lottery.

Evangelical protests finally led to a change in policy, with the last state lottery of this sort held in England in 1826.  However, the previous activities had influenced the Colonies.  America used a lottery to help fund the War for Independence, which was not quite the winning outcome England had hoped for. 

And if you'd like a chance to win a free book, come back next week for the launch of The Courting Campaign!

(Picture of lottery ticket by Ron Shelley and used under a Creative Commons License)

Summer Sights: The British Museum

Summer’s almost here, though the weather does not seem to agree. Time for school to let out, people to go on vacation, nineteenth century young ladies to be in London for the Season. So, in between all those balls and parties, what did a well educated young lady do during her time in London? One favorite with tourists then and now is the British Museum.

In 1753, the physician and collector Sir Hans Sloane had bequeathed his collection of 71,000 books, antiquities, and natural artifacts to England, provided the country could offer suitable housing and pay his heirs 20,000 pounds. Parliament held a public lottery in 1755 to raise 21,000 pounds to purchase and repair Montagu House in Bloomsbury to hold the collection. Four years later, on January 15, the British Museum was opened to the public.

Originally the museum held printed books and prints, manuscripts and medals, and a hodgepodge of other items, but slowly, through purchase and donation, the museum acquired a number of unique pieces such as an Egyptian mummy, drawings from Captain Cook’s three Pacific voyages, and a collection of ancient Greek vases. In fact, the wealthy delighted in donating interesting things to the museum, including the trunk of a tree gnawed by a beaver, a rock that looked like a petrified loaf of bread, and a live tortoise.

By the early 1800s, the museum was becoming more selective. It acquire the Rosetta Stone, various collections of classical sculpture, and portions of classical buildings like the Parthenon (the Elgin Marbles) and the Mausoleum of Halikarnassos. The collections also expanded to include artifacts from the Middle East and, under protests from national scholars, England. As the collections grew, so did the museum, expanding far beyond the original walls to the classical front visible today.

With the museum free to visit, the trustees were concerned that the building would be overrun. So, to protect the collections, the museum issued a few tickets a day, for a set time of the day to visit. If you wished a ticket, you went to the museum and applied to the Porter at the front gate. The Porter set you down for a certain day and time, but you had to return to the museum another day to get the ticket and then again at your visiting day and time, somewhere between 9am and 4pm, Monday through Friday.

No more than five people were assigned each time slot. On the appointed hour, you met with one of the Under-Librarians, who gave you a guided tour. You started up the Great Staircase to tour the upper rooms, then descended to the ground floor for a tour of those rooms. You were not encouraged to linger over the marvelous sights. Each tour was quick and sharp, to make sure to leave room for the next group.

Hm, think that might be the origin of “And we’re walking”?

Losing Their Marbles

Traveling, book deadlines, blog posts, Vacation Bible School: sometimes I think I'm losing my mind! But marble, as in the magnificient stone, wouldn't be that easy to lose, you'd think. That's not what I found in this post from November 2007. Looking forward to chatting with you all next week about Bright Star!

Like anyone on summer vacation, the young ladies and gentlemen let loose in nineteenth century London during the Season wanted to see the sights. Thrill seekers might visit the Tower Zoo, cringe through the feeding of the tigers at the Royal Menagerie in the Exeter ‘Change, or watch a balloon ascend over Hyde Park. For those of more historical or artistic pretensions, a visit to the Elgin Marbles was a must.

Before the marble sculptures even arrived in England, they were the center of controversy. Thomas Bruce, Seventh Earl of Elgin, actually made off with them while serving as ambassador to the Ottoman Empire in Greece. He claimed these sculptures, which once decorated the Parthenon in Athens, could be better protected in England. Seems some people (not Greeks) were breaking off the noses of statues as souvenirs.

Unfortunately, Elgin didn’t do a very good job of protecting the sculptures. One of the pieces removed from the Parthenon fell and was crushed into dust. The first shipment sunk to the bottom of the Mediterranean and had to be salvaged. Then Elgin and his family were kidnapped on the way home from Greece and held as political hostages for three years!

Meanwhile, the arrival of the marble sculptures in England between 1803 and 1812 helped ignite the passion for Greek designs. Woman piled up their hair like the hairstyles in Greek pottery. Dresses turned to classic lines and draperies. Columns and friezes decorated buildings. Artists from all over England and as far away as Italy and America came to ogle the pieces and weep that their own work was so pitiful in comparison.

Not everyone was so thrilled. Several members of Parliament expressed concerns about how the sculptures had come to be in Elgin’s possession. In his Childe Harold, one of the bestsellers of the period, Lord Byron attacked Elgin for plundering history.

Elgin had hoped the British Museum would purchase the collection, but the museum offered less than what he asked. When he had to move from his Park Lane home, he stashed the sculptures in the rear yard of palatial Burlington House, where they were stacked in and around the coal shed. They remained there until 1816, when the British Museum increased their offer. It was still lower than Elgin wanted, but he was getting desperate and Burlington House had been sold, so he accepted the offer.

Today, the Elgin Marbles are still the center of controversy. They remain on display at the British Museum, but Greek patriots and English supporters continue to lobby for their return to their homeland.

And Elgin? His nose rotted off. No lie.