This is the full text of the lecture, without annotations
REPRISE
A project by Neil Cummings and Marysia Lewandowska
on the occasion of Independence an exhibition at the South London Gallery
1st June – 3rd August 2003
Souvenir Pamphlet
Price 20p
A SUMMARY OF THE HISTORY OF THE SOUTH LONDON ART GALLERY, LIBRARY AND LECTURE HALL
-From its Foundation in 1868-
Addressed to the council of the South London Fine Art Gallery January 4th 1893
The Institution now being a quarter of a century old, and Mr Westlake and myself being the only members familiar with this history as a whole, it seemed worthwhile to recount a summary of its history, especially as many people still think it is supported by ratepayers through the County Council.
It is, to-day, twenty-five years since Professor Huxley, then in the height of his fame as a popular expounder of science, presided at the opening of the South London Working Men's College, and his great reputation, which crowded the Jermyn-street lecture hall, and any place where science was valued, attracted to this inaugural address some thirty people, the total audience numbering fifty-six, of whom nearly half were members of the council and other promoters of the college.
Such was the attraction of science in South London a quarter of a century ago.
The South London Working Men's College was an offshoot of the Working Men's College now in Great Ormond Street, founded in 1854 in Red Lion Square by Frederic Denison Maurice, who was helped by Ruskin, Kingsley Hughes, Ludlow, Furnivall, and a host of others. The College was especially intended for working men; the time of work, the fees, the surroundings, were all fixed with special reference to the needs of the working class, so that we had the oddity of a College closed for twenty out of the twenty-four hours, but in full work from seven to eleven at night.
Here Frederic D. Maurice taught theology and politics, two subjects till then forbidden at all places of popular adult education; he declared that to educate a workman it is essential that he be regarded as a citizen and be taught politics; and to teach politics without theology Maurice regarded as impossible.
F.D Maurice delivered at St. Martin's Hall the inaugural lecture of the Working Men's College in Central London, intended for all London workmen. From that inaugural lecture till now, I have been a member of the College, learning from Furnivall the value and meaning of work; from Hughes, some notions of law; from Ludlow, some idea of the message poetry has for mankind; from Kingsley what the science of life is; from Westlake, the value of mathematics and physical science; from Ruskin, the meaning of political economy; but above all, from Maurice, the meaning of politics as a matter of national life, not as a matter of partisan struggles or selfish interests; and of theology as the foundation of all life, not as a matter of creeds or formulae.
For all those years I watched the work of the College with interest and slowly it came to me that the workingmen especially, were in a very large minority amongst the students. And that the vast majority of these were residents in South London, which is, as I then perceived for the first time, the vast dormitory of the great majority of the men who work in central London.
It is easy enough to travel east and west in London, but from the south to the north it is a difficult and tedious route, even now; and then it was still more so, the river interposing a great barrier.
From this came the idea of a college in South London, in the midst of the workers; but we were timid, and dared not advance far into an unknown land, so the South London College was opened in Blackfriars Road, about half a mile from the river boundary. But though it bore the name of the College, it was an independent institution.
As years went on, I found many things to be true which then surprised me.
First, that the workingman is not a very earnest student of deep subjects;
Secondly, that it is impossible that he can be, while his time is taken up by daily labour and the cares of family life;
Thirdly, that in politics as in religion his expressions of opinion are the more positive and aggressive accordingly as his knowledge is more vague and limited. In this he greatly resembles many others.
The College, however, did not teach either politics or theology. In this way I realised the great gulf between the education of the working man and the well to do. Even when an attempt was made to remove, as far as it might be possible, the difference.
After some years work the College was removed to Kennington Lane, further from Central London, and more in the midst of actual workers. Up to this time the work had been strictly limited to classes and lectures, though a library had been collected, but, like all libraries, used –-almost entirely- by the middle class, and by clerks.
The genuine workingman is not, and cannot be expected to be, a reader of books.
In 1878, the move to a larger house suggested to me the establishment of a Free Library. Up to this time South London, with a population of a million and a half, had absolutely no public library, nor even (I think) a good book shop. The library of the College, added to my own, made a very respectable collection of books. But I added by purchase a number of novels, and friends added others by gift. So in October 1878, we opened the front door of the house, and put up the words "Free Library."
This Free Library was quite a distinct institution from the College, and in a few months after it began, we added to it an art exhibition by borrowing pictures during the summer months. But so many friends lent pictures, and so many were allowed to remain, that the exhibition intended for a few weeks has now been in existence for quite a few years. It has become so important that the name Free Library has been replaced by that of South London Fine Art Gallery.
This Fine Art Gallery and Free Library was formally united to the Working Men's College, the two institutions becoming one; with a succession of presidents culminating in the acceptance of the office by Sir Frederick Leighton, who succeeded Mr. Gladstone in 1887, and has since then been a great power for good in South London.
In 1882 a further addition was made. I had always desired to see lectures given to working class audiences with special reference to their opinions, and especially with reference to their prejudices, on politics and theology. The gallery could not give such lectures as part of its programme, but it could give lectures on art, science, or literature.
In this way lectures were added to the Gallery, or rather so much of the original College work was revived, and from that time such lectures have been regularly given during about half a year. Sunday is, unfortunately, the only time for such audiences as I wish to address. A working man cannot turn his mind like a railway carriage from one line of thought to another in a moment, and his week-day evenings are usually spent in rest and such amusement as he finds at home or at his club. It has always surprised me that the working men should be expected to become a student in his leisure.
And now in 1887 I felt that the Art Gallery - small as it was, poor as was its accommodation; with no special protection against fire, and no provision for proper exhibition-mall, I felt it had in it the germ of a great work, a work altogether beyond the small means and poor accommodation. That this germ might not be stifled – that the good I believed it was doing, or could do, might continue – I appealed to Sir Fr. Leighton, Mr Watts, and Mr Burne-Jones. Telling them what had been done, what might be done, and how limited were the means at my command.
Had I known how readily this help would be given; how much time, and thought, and help in every way, these men would give I should have hesitated before asking them; but on the other hand, had I dreamed they would do but half what they have done, I would have "moved heaven and earth" to get their help.
This was but five years ago, and now we have a freehold site of more than half an acre, a fire-proof gallery well filled with works of art, a library, and a beginning of a museum, and we are just about to build a second large room for books and lectures. So far, the gallery has grown materially, but my desire is to see it grow until it becomes the National Gallery of South London – an actual part of the national Gallery, or of South Kensington Museum, as is the Bethnal Green Museum. So it will not be dependent on subscriptions collected with difficulty, but supported by the nation as a public art gallery and placed where it is most wanted, where the daily lives of the people most are in need of such refreshment, and where the great working classes, whose work beautifies the wealthier parts of the metropolis, live with so little beauty either natural or derived from art.
Nearly all of the money required for the present gallery and freehold site has been provided by the original members, and most of the small remainder has been collected from the circles of their friends. The new room for library and lectures about to be built is a further revival of the literary and scientific part of the work, which was for a long time overshadowed by the growth of the art gallery.
A quarter of a century is a long time; the first twenty-five years of the life of an institution is usually one of difficulty and struggle, if it be the expression of a dominant idea, and I think this is just what the gallery has been so far. The idea is that the working man is not enough considered, or even enough known; and what is done for him is usually diverted to the service of those socially above him; he is unable to use much that is intended for his service. Also he will respond very readily to any help offered to him, if the help be such as he can use.
As I have said, South London is a great dormitory of workmen, it is a great intellectual desert, with miles upon miles of flat, square, ugly houses, with scarce any beauty of architecture, and with absolutely no public buildings.
In May 1891, our new gallery was opened, and we thought that many of our troubles were ended. We hoped the valuable collection of works would interest the more educated of the poor, and attract even the less thoughtful; and happily it proved to be so. But we had new troubles, of which we had not dreamed; the rooms being open to all, in the same manner as the National Gallery, except that we took much trouble to induce the poorer people to enter, for it was difficult to get them to believe that the place was more intended for them; and this very greatly increased by the behaviour of two different kinds of people.
These difficulties were very serious to us; any representation we made to people whom we considered wanting in regard for order, and in respect for the gallery and its objects, was met by rude, often insolent claims to use the gallery as a public place.
Many believed it was supported by the ratepayers; many regarded it as built by local people for local use as a public recreation room, where they might eat, smoke, and amuse themselves as they pleased. Some even attempted by force to establish their right to smoke in the gallery, and for some months our work, was more difficult than ever, and I was fairly bewildered.
Of course, we could easily have let things go their own way; have let anyone come in and stay in, unless their behaviour was so glaringly bad as to justify expulsion by force. But this meant, as experience taught us, that the gallery would be used by comparatively few people. Noisy behaviour would have kept out all the people for whom we are working; the people who desire to use it as a picture gallery. And especially it kept out the poorer people, who are often sensitive, and who could not believe the place was meant for them when they saw only well-dressed crowd. It also meant that we could not possibly ask our friends to help to keep the place open, if such was its use, or misuse.
During the whole time the gallery existed, each picture was marked by a small card; but when the new gallery was opened, we attempted a printed catalogue. As the pictures are always changing, a new edition was printed every week, and in ten weeks we had lost over ten pounds. But this catalogue offered a suggestion – it may be an inspiration – and I used it.
After a very bad Sunday evening, I made a rule, simply for a few days, an experiment, that every well-dressed person should be asked to buy a catalogue as a condition of entrance, and as a testimony that they desired to use the place as it is intended to be used.
I had no great hope of its being of service, but I had tried many things, and this was one more. I found it so valuable because the place was at once orderly, and the number, especially of poor people, increased. For more than a year this rule has been in existence: but it is always interpreted very loosely, and the rein is only tightened when disorder threatens to return. It is now months since we had any trouble of this kind.
The poor people buy catalogues readily: even when we give them free copies they frequently insist on paying for them. The only people who ever refuse to buy them are just the very people who, I think, ought not to be admitted to the gallery.
Sometimes, as on a fine Sunday evening, like this evening, the attendance is very large, especially when we have music. We have had as many as three hundred people enter within ten minutes after opening, and within an hour this number has increased to eight hundred. At such a time it is especially important to keep the gallery for the people who value it, and these are always more than willing to buy catalogues which they really want; and it is especially important to keep out those who only want to play.
If the number desiring to enter be larger that the gallery can safely accommodate, it is self-evident that some test should separate the earnest visitor from the noisy crowd, and I have found the rule of purchasing the catalogue the simplest and most efficient.
The South London College when opened in 1868, it was naturally for men and women only, but there was in the same rooms a day school for boys and girls. In the same way the Free Library and the Art Gallery are designed for men and women, but children desire to come in such large numbers that it is impractical to keep them out, and, I think, most unwise to attempt it. The children of today are the men and women of tomorrow, and they will use art galleries and libraries more wisely at twenty if they spend an hour or two in them almost daily now. So that both from inclination and from need we open the gallery at times when we do not expect adults, but when we know children will come, and come in hundreds if, and the word here is very important, if they are received with kindness and treated with sympathetic judgement; if they are guided not driven: if they are influenced but not worried; if we can command their respect for the gallery by leading them to feel its value.
WILLIAM ROSSITER
Printed by William F. Edwin, Huntingdon, and published by William Rossiter
Portland House, Camberwell, London 1893.
William Rossiter’s address to the Gallery Council of 1893
[part of the original drive to maintain independence]
has been edited and amended by Neil Cummings and Marysia Lewandowska.
Represented by Margot Heller, Director of the South London Gallery on the 1st June 2003 on the occasion of the opening of Independence, an exhibition to celebrate the Gallery devolving from the London Borough of Southwark’s management, after 108 years.
Thanks to Chris Hammond and Anne Odling Smee
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return to Reprise [1] or the miscellaneous texts [2]