Why do we have museums J. V. Maranto
Hello, everyone.
Let’s begin our guided tour.
Welcome to the Museum of Museums.
Museums have been a part of human history
for over 2000 years.
But they weren’t always
like the ones we visit today.
The history of museums is far older
and much stranger than you might imagine.
We’ll start over here in the Greek wing.
Our word museum
comes from the Greek mouseion,
temples built for the Muses,
the goddesses of the arts and the sciences.
Supplicants asked the Muses
to keep watch over academics
and grant ingenuity
to those they deemed worthy.
The temples were filled
with offerings of sculptures,
mosaics,
complex scientific apparatuses,
poetic and literary inscriptions,
and any other tribute that would
demonstrate a mortal’s worthiness
for divine inspiration.
We have arrived at the Mesopotamian wing.
The first museum was created in 530 B.C.
in what is now Iraq.
And the first curator
was actually a princess.
Ennigaldi-Nanna started to collect
and house Mesopotamian antiquities
in E-Gig-Par, her house.
When archeologists excavated the area,
they discovered dozens of artifacts
neatly arranged in rows,
with clay labels
written in three languages.
She must have had interesting parties.
The tradition of collecting and displaying
intriguing items began to be mimicked,
as you can see here
in the Roman Empire wing.
Treasure houses
of politicians and generals
were filled with the spoils of war,
and royal menageries
displayed exotic animals
to the public on special occasions,
like gladiator tournaments.
As you can see, we have a lion here
and a gladiator,
and, well, the janitor ought
to be in this wing clearly.
Moving on, hurry along.
The next step in the evolution of museums
occurred in the Renaissance,
when the study of the natural world
was once again encouraged
after almost a millennium
of Western ignorance.
Curiosity cabinets,
also referred to as Wunderkammers,
were collections of objects that acted
as a kind of physical encyclopedia,
showcasing artifacts.
Just step into the wardrobe here.
There you go. Mind the coats.
And we’ll tour Ole Worm’s cabinet,
One of the most notable Wunderkammers
belonged to a wealthy
17th-century naturalist,
antiquarian, and physician Ole Worm.
Ole Worm collected natural specimens,
human skeletons,
ancient runic texts,
and artifacts from the New World.
In other curiosity cabinets,
you could find genetic anomalies,
precious stones,
works of art,
and religious and historic relics.
Oh my. You might not want to touch that.
These cabinets were private, again,
often in residencies,
curated by their owners,
rulers and aristocrats,
as well as merchants and early scientists.
Now, who hears a circus organ?
In the 1840s,
an enterprising young showman
named Phineas T. Barnum
purchased some of the more famous
cabinets of curiosity from Europe
and started Barnum’s American Museum
in New York City.
A spectacular hodgepodge of zoo,
lecture hall,
wax museum,
theater,
and freak show that was known
for its eclectic residents,
such as bears,
elephants,
acrobats,
giants,
Siamese twins,
a Fiji mermaid,
and a bearded lady,
along with a host of modern machinery
and scientific instruments.
Museums open to the public
are a relatively new phenomenon.
Before Barnum, the first public museums
were only accessible
by the upper and middle classes,
and only on certain days.
Visitors would have to apply
to visit the museum
in writing prior to admision,
and only small groups could visit
the museum each day.
The Louvre famously allowed all members
of the public into the museum
but only three days a week.
In the 19th century,
the museum as we know it
began to take shape.
Institutions like the Smithsonian
were started
so that objects could be seen and studied,
not just locked away.
American museums, in particular,
commissioned experiments
and hired explorers to seek out
and retrieve natural samples.
Museums became centers for scholarship
and artistic and scientific discovery.
This is often called the Museum Age.
Nowadays, museums are open to everybody,
are centers of learning and research,
and are turning
into more hands-on institutions.
But the question of who gets to go
is still relevant
as ticket prices can sometimes
bar admission
to those future scholars, artists
and targets of divine inspiration
who can’t afford
to satisfy their curiosity.
Thank you all for coming,
and please,
feel free to stop by the gift shop
of gift shops on your way out.