Oxford's oldest student newspaper

Independent since 1920

A ‘case’ for the Anglo-Saxons

It’s 3pm on a Wednesday, and Room 41 of the British Museum is, for lack of a better word, buzzing. As a Medievalist, dedicated watcher of Time Team and general museum geek, I had expected to be one of the few people genuinely excited to hear that the Museum were revamping the room dedicated to showcasing the Sutton Hoo hoard – probably the most important archaeological discovery made in Britain to date. It is lovely, then, to see it so full of life. There are children here, admiring the weaponry. There are people who aren’t tour-guides talking excitedly about artistic symbolism.

The some 600 years that are termed the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ period saw the splitting of the country into separate Kingdoms; the conversion of the English people from Paganism to Christianity; the emergence of a culture of literacy which was the beginnings of the English language as we know it. And yet, it is a period also very much preoccupied with its own transience – the lack of a clear place in history which has continued to define it, leaving the skill and beauty of its art unsung and under-appreciated.

Generally, few people care about the Anglo-Saxons. Consider, say, the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery’s dingy and uninspiring presentation of the Staffordshire Hoard. The Ashmolean, admittedly, glories in its Medieval collection, with the Alfred Jewel continuously hailed as one of the museum’s must-see objects – but that is only to be expected for a museum owned by the only university in the country where Old English is still mandatory for English undergraduates.

This is a people too often pushed to the side-lines of history, overshadowed by their Roman predecessors and Anglo-Norman successors. It is significant, then, that room 41 actually feels like the centre of something. The Museum are demonstrating their engagement with the idea that the concept of the ‘Dark Ages’ is out of date.

There is, accordingly, a real feeling of light and space in the curation of this room. The tall bright glass cases showcase the intricate artefacts of the hoard in such a way that highlights not (as would perhaps be expected) their age, nor their varying states of decay and fragmentation – but their delicate craftsmanship, their richness and intricacy.

Items aren’t just left to tell their own stories – they are consciously engaged with. The most fragmented pieces have been pieced together, or else placed next to reconstructions which show the way they would have looked in their original glory. Illustrations – such as one showing a cauldron suspended from a beam in the all-important hall – help to place items in context and bring the period alive. The (Alfred) jewel of the collection, the famous helmet, holds a central position, strikingly illuminated to showcase the bestial form created by the brow and nose.

It is not the glass cases and LED lights which create the room’s feeling of space: the contents of the cases are light and beautiful, too. It’s not all rusted weaponry and cruciform brooches. There is a striking amount of glasswork – in the form of beads, drinking-horns, goblets, conical flasks and Roman-style claw-beakers. The shining gold and silver of the plates and jewellery reflect the light of their cases, but also create a light of their own, and appear as new as the day they were buried inside a ship in modern-day East Anglia 1,300 years ago.

Whether you’re a medieval enthusiast looking for something to complement the Vikings exhibition (which I will see when I have a spare £13), an English first-year longing to put The Wanderer etc. into context (because prelims), or if you’re just passing through on the way to see the mummies, Room 41 is well worth a look.

Check out our other content

Most Popular Articles