The three men are seated in high backed chairs around a table in the gloomy room with a clock ticking in the background. A small man sporting white side whiskers addresses the others.
"Finally, we previously agreed to be at the museum tomorrow when it re-opens to visitors. Our curator, Richard, assures me that the bronze sculptures from West Africa are now on display in the Hampton room and ready for viewing." Sir Geoffrey clears his throat before continuing. “It is most important that we are all present as Lord and Lady Manton will be coming.”
"It's a disgrace, Sir Geoffrey," says a red-faced man. "Our museum has established a reputation for displaying some of the best examples of English painting and sculpture from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and we attract visitors from far and wide but now we are going to become a laughing stock by removing many of our finest pieces and replacing them with baubles from a savage country."
“I agree, James, it is highly unusual for a museum to take such a step,” says Sir Geoffrey. “Ideally, I would like it to have been delayed until we fully understood the consequences.”
"But we now have an Empire which we didn't have two hundred years ago,” says the third man who has a high forehead and a gaunt, wrinkled face. “It is only right and fitting that we also put on show works of art from the countries we rule. It's a sign of our nation's prowess. Also, I know from my time in Africa the inhabitants do not appreciate the art of their ancestors and it would be neglected unless we found a home for such works."
He sits back looking pleased with himself.
“I understand your point of view, Norman,” says Sir Geoffrey. “I suppose no institution can afford to stand still and we have to be open to change.”
"Get off the fence,” James says with a scowl. “These pagan symbols should have been left where they came from. Mark my words, they will bring us bad fortune."
Before Sir Geoffrey can open his mouth, Norman jumps in.
"Don’t be ridiculous. I have seen similar items on show in a London museum and nothing amiss has happened there to my knowledge. Superstition should not be used as a reason for declining exhibits.”
“What happens in London is of no interest to me,” James scoffs. “They have some strange habits and tastes there.”
"Gentlemen, please," Sir Geoffrey interjects. "This is a most difficult matter but we cannot revoke the decision to add these items to the collection. As you are well aware, Lord Manton was most insistent that this be done. As trustees, we have to be mindful the funding of the museum and, if we displease our main benefactor, we run the risk of losing his generosity. We don't want that to happen, do we?" he asks, raising his bushy eyebrows.
"Blackmail is what I call it," snaps James. "If he has his way, the place will be unrecognisable in a few years.”
"That's enough. I'm calling the meeting to a close," says Sir Geoffrey, looking at his pocket watch. "I will see you both tomorrow morning."
He collects his papers, stands up and strides out of the room leaving the other two men sitting in silence glaring at each other.
Richard pulls the sturdy oak door of the house behind him and walks down the path to the museum. He is tall and dressed in a fawn frock coat. Within a matter of seconds, he reaches the porticoed entrance and he lets himself in with a key.
"Good morning, " he says to a stooped, elderly attendant sitting on a stool in the entrance hall.
"Good day to you. Sir Geoffrey is waiting for you in your office.”
Entering, he finds the diminutive figure of Sir Geoffrey sitting at the desk drumming his fingers.
“There you are, Richard. I arrived early so I could see the new arrivals once more before the doors are opened.”
“I’m sorry. I would have been here earlier had I known you were coming before we open.” His face reddens.
"Come on, let’s go and see them,” says Sir Geoffrey rising to his feet.
“Of course. I’ve got the keys in my pocket.”
They leave the office and Richard leads them down the corridor. Arriving at the Hampton room, Richard unlocks the door and they enter and are greeted by the sight of a row of human heads, animal and human figures, busts of kings and more besides, each one shiny and lustrous. The features of many of the heads are exaggerated from natural proportions, with large ears, noses, and lips shaped with great care.
“My goodness, they are peculiar,” says Sir Richard. “I still don’t know what to think about them.” His face twitches.
“Some of them do have remarkable features. Look at this one,” Richard says, pointing at a youthful face cast in bronze with a beaded collar around the neck and gourd on its head. "This is in near immaculate condition and uncannily bears some similarity to pieces produced in the Italian Renaissance. And look at the horn player,” he adds pointing to his right. “The detail is beautiful, particularly the hair plaits on either side of the face and the elaborate necklaces.”
Sir Geoffrey tilts his head to one side as he studies the objects.
“I am mystified how a people who are said to be backward could have acquired such skills. It is most perplexing.”
“I believe some scholars date the works back to a sixteenth century civilisation which has long disappeared.” Richard takes a deep breath. “However, as I have told you before, I have grave doubts about displaying these works as I have no knowledge of their provenance and pride myself on being able to label exhibits in an authoritative and scholarly manner. More research is needed.”
Sir Geoffrey’s face darkens and he wags a finger looking up at the other man.
“We don’t have time to worry about such matters and must hope that visitors are not offended by what they see and don’t ask too many questions. And, by the way, when Lord and Lady Manton arrive, make sure you express your gratitude for the donation of these items.”
Richard shrugs his shoulders.
They hear a cough and turn to see the attendant standing nearby.
"It's ten o'clock, sir. Shall I open up?"
"Go ahead," says Richard. “Let us see what the good folk of our town make of it all.”
A fire roars in the hearth and gleams in Lord Manton’s grey eyes as a maid collects the blue and white china plates from the dining table and takes them away on a tray.
Sir Geoffrey wipes his lips with a napkin. "The venison was delicious. Where is it from?" he asks.
"We have our own herd of deer on the estate. My grandfather first brought them here." Lord Manton’s double chin wobbles as he speaks.
"I am glad that you and Lady Manton were pleased by the manner in which the West African sculptures are displayed in the museum.” A self-satisfied smile appears on Sir Geoffrey’s face.
The other chortles as he leans forward.
"Between you and me, they're not to my taste. It was my dear wife who wanted them to be shown to the public. Our eldest son brought a few crates of them back after his latest posting to Africa as a gift to us. We had nowhere suitable here to display them and I suggested we should store them in the attic along with the other pieces of art we keep there. But she was adamant some of them should be put on public show.”
"You do surprise me," says Sir Geoffrey, suddenly turning pale.
"If you had told me when I first raised the matter that the museum couldn't accept the objects because it would be wrong to put them alongside historic English art, I would have happily told my wife that.” Lord Manton chuckles” And it would have avoided the complaints you had from some of the visitors today.”
Sir Geoffrey’s face crumples.
“Let us have some brandy. Looks like you could do with one.”
Lord Manton picks up a crystal decanter, pours a measure into two glasses, and passes one to the other man.
“So where do you stand on the provisions in the latest Reform Bill? Personally, I think they are an outrage.”
Sir Geoffrey takes a long sip as he composes himself.
“I’m undecided as I can see both sides of the argument.”
“Ha! That is your failing, my dear fellow.”
They have an amicable debate about the matter for a few minutes until
a breathless young man bursts into the room.
"I have news from the town.”
"Spit it out," says Lord Manton.
"The museum is ablaze and, by the time the fire engine arrived, there was nothing they could do to put out the flames”.
"Good God," says Sir Geoffrey jumping to his feet. "Is there any news of the curator and his family? Their house is adjoined to the museum.”
"I believe they all escaped safely.”
“Thank God for that. They will need to find other accommodation.” He pauses and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “I have the answer. They can move into the cottage at the back of our garden until they find somewhere else to live. It has enough furnishings to make them comfortable.”
"That’s very good of you,” says Lord Manton. “I believe bronze melts in fire so I assume the new sculptures will be no more. My wife will be most displeased. However, I am sure I can find new premises to house any sculptures made from other materials which have survived and would be happy to donate the paintings sitting in our attic. But the remaining African pieces will remain there.”
Sir Geoffrey gives a sigh of relief.
“That would be most wise. We don’t want to tempt fate again.”
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