The Burden of the British Museum
The 19th century - particularly the Victorian era
1837-1901 - is famous for many things including the expansion and consolidation
of the British Empire, which greatly improved the British understanding of
world history. There are the obvious positives and negatives to be discussed
here, and I will begin by addressing how the information collected, which is
now vital for our journey into Literary history, results from colonisation, and
the reality of that must be respected during our analysis. We will discuss the
differences between knowledge and fascination, and how Victorian minds were not
always concerned with the reality of these artefacts.
Most famous for his excavation of Nimrud (originally
believed to be Nineveh) in 1845, Sir Austen Henry Layard was at the forefront
of Victorian architectural discovery and was the inspiration for Victorian
Literature surrounding the revelations of Assyrian history. I want to draw
focus to three artefacts excavated by Lanyard that had a great impact on
Victorian literature and are still available to view today in the British Museum.
You may know of the Assyrian Bull Head Statues if you’ve walked the
halls of the Assyrian exhibit. Or maybe, if you’re anything like myself the
Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III might have drawn your attention. Regardless,
these three pieces allow us to examine Mesopotamian history. We will compare
them with Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s poem, The Burden of Nineveh, to
understand the Victorian opinion of excavating world history, and how that
related to their view of their own period in history alongside others.
So, let’s start with Rossetti, and why his
poem provides us with a good idea of Victorian perceptions of the Assyrian
collections. The Burden of Nineveh was published in 1856, but “Rossetti began writing it in 1850 sometime around the 20th
October – that is, a few weeks after the artifacts arrived in London”
(Stauffer, P378). The poem gives us a first-person account of what a
Victorian mind thought when first confronted with these Assyrian artefacts, “as I made the swing-door spin //And
issued, they were hoisting in //A wingèd beast from Nineveh” (Rossetti, Lines 8
-10). The “wingèd
beast from Nineveh” Rossetti refers to is the Assyrian Bulls Head
Sculptures, which were the main focus of Layard’s writings (Nineveh and
its remains) and Victorian fascination when they were acquired in 1851, “an impressive icon whose image was rapidly circulated and
served to focus the Victorian reaction to ancient Assyria.” (Stauffer P371).
The Sculptures, which are still iconic of Assyrian archaeology, stand at an
impressive 3.5 metres tall and are dated at the Neo-Assyrian period between 865BC-860BC:
a whopping 2,880 years ago towards the latter end of the known Mesopotamian period
of history.
Rossetti recognises how the sculpture may represent a
potential Assyrian God, and throughout the poem uses light imagery, “Its wings stood for the light to
bathe” (Rossetti, line 18), and questions the potentially religious
ceremonies surrounding the sculpture that would’ve happened in Nineveh, “What vows, what rites, what
prayers preferr'd, //What songs has the strange image heard?” (Rossetti, Lines
26-27). These are however simply fictions of Rossetti’s imagination. He fanaticises
a historical statue for literary purpose.
Side note: I will continue to refer to Nineveh throughout
this post as the home of these artefacts, however, we now know they were found
in Nimrud, and not Nineveh, but during the Victorian period, Nineveh was
believed to be a lot larger than we know it to have been today.
What is most prominent through The Burden of Nineveh is
the idea of the passage of time and the destruction of cultures as a result. This
idea further pushes suggests the self-preservation over the interest of history
within Victorian mindsets. As Stauffer tells us, “the history of civilizations gets swept into nothing:
these anxieties all would be rehearsed throughout the nineteenth century in
Britain, be focused and intensified as the monuments of Egypt and Assyria found
their ways into the British Museum and thereafter into the Victorian popular
consciousness” (Stauffer, P369-370). As the British Empire expanded
throughout the 19th century, the idea of patriotic greatness was
formed. The Empire became an extension of Britain, allowing travel and
exploration to become apart of Victorian expectations. The fear of losing the
power of the Empire was echoed in the evidence of time wiping out civilisations
such as Assyria and became the focal point of their views. Rossetti highlights
this, as he compares London to Nineveh and theorises how an Australian Empire
in years to come will view artefacts from London, “To pass, till on my sight should burst //That future of
the best or worst //When some may question which was first, //Of London or of
Nineveh.// For as that Bull-god once did stand //…//Rose o'er his eyes, another
land, //And blinded him with destiny: — //So may he stand again; till now, //In
ships of unknown sail and prow, //Some tribe of the Australian plough //Bear
him afar, — a relic now //Of London, not of Nineveh!” (Rossetti, Lines
167-180). He wonders if there will be the same naivety for London, that
he has for Assyria, and whether a new Empire will recognise the Assyrian Bulls
Heads as from their origin, or will they become artefacts of London, “Rossetti himself confuses the order of the Egyptian and
Assyrian empires; that is, he makes the same error he imagines the Australians
making with respect to London and Nineveh.” (Stauffer, P379).
Looking then to The Burden of Nineveh, Rossetti makes
exophoric reference to fellow Victorian and romantic author, Byron, to link to
the idea of legacy and record, “The
last, while smouldered to a name //Sardanapalus' Nineveh” (Rossetti, Line 60). Sardanapalus
was the last king of Assyria according to Greek writer Ctesias. As proven by mentions
in The Burden of Nineveh and Byron’s play, Sardanapalus was treated as a
real Assyrian king like Shalmaneser, and used to discuss the Victorian
anxieties of legacy, “In his late play, Sardanapalus
(1821), Byron repeatedly presents questions of legacy, as the Assyrian monarch
struggles to determine what his reign will mean to future eras” (Stauffer,
P369). However, academics have since found a list of Assyrian kings on
cuneiform tablets which do not mention a king by the name Sardanapalus. Here we
see that what is taken as record may not always be accurate. Unlike
Sardanapalus, Shalmaneser does appear on the Assyrian kings list, and so, The
Black Obelisk of Shalmaneser III highlights the potential for written
legacy, but in contrast to The Burden of Nineveh, we see whether record is used
for its history, or whether it’s used for its fictional tantalisation.
Overall, the artefacts allow us to involve Assyrian history with our modern culture (Victorian literature and perspectives), while The Burden of Nineveh uses such artefacts as inspiration to express anxieties of the passage of time and problems with Empire. Our example of Victorian minds does not concern itself with the history, but instead fanaticises the Assyrian reality and the process of accurate record. An interesting perspective on the matter comes from Thomas Richards, who Stauffer says, “has shown how the British Empire under Victoria came to be apprehended as a vast network of information tending towards ‘a fantasy of knowledge collected and united in the service of state and empire’” (Stauffer, P370). This fictionalisation of information ultimately uses the history and reality of other cultures - the artefacts from Assyria - to the benefit of the coloniser - Rossetti imagines the same fate befalling London, and therefore publishes concern. The idea of legacy combined with naivety leads to the redirection of focus and the prevarication of the past. A base knowledge of a history can be present, but as Layard states, “it is only when we ask ourselves what we really know concerning them, that we discover our ignorance of all that relates to their history” (Layard, Nineveh and its Remains (1849)). In this respect, history is used for fictional benefit.
Bibliography
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