A Wunderkammer is a collection of small, wondrous objects, both natural and manmade, often very precious and intricate in their making. Sixteenth-century princes liked putting them together and a few, all in the Germanic realm, have come down to us almost intact—the imperial Wunderkammer in Vienna, the Dukes of Bavaria’s in Munich and the Electors of Saxony in Dresden.
No surprise, therefore, that the Rothschilds, who rose in 40 years from the Frankfurt ghetto to being the most active builders and collectors in 19th-century Europe—they built 44 great houses, many in the 16th-century style—identified with these princes and chose to imitate their collecting habits.
The Rothschild Wunderkammer in the British Museum, which has just been redisplayed by the architects Stanton Williams with funding from the Rothschild Foundation, is the only one in Britain. It contains some extraordinary small works of art, but none so venerable and artistically rare as the reliquary of the Holy Thorn.
It is a foot high, of solid gold, set with jewels and enamelled, and it was made nearly 650 years ago in France to house a thorn believed to be from Christ’s crown of thorns, once the property of the Byzantine emperors, then the kings of France. It belonged at the time to great French nobleman, the duc de Berry, and then ended up in the Habsburg imperial collections. In the 1860s, a great fraud took place: the dealer to whom it was sent to be restored had a replica made and kept the original, which was eventually bought by Baron Ferdinand Rothschild, the builder of Waddesdon Manor in Buckinghamshire.
In an interview with The Art Newspaper, Lord Rothschild tells what happened next:
“The Waddesdon Bequest is the only loss from the house. Nothing has left Waddesdon in 125 years because there were no divorces, no children until I came along, and more and more pieces entering the collection by inheritance, as Rothschilds tended to marry their cousins.
The Bequest is the contents of the Smoking Room, a Wunderkammer collection started by Ferdinand’s father, Anselm. Ferdinand didn’t get on with his father so he wasn’t sure about keeping it, although he did add to it. He was made a trustee of the British Museum and the chairman of trustees, Augustus Wollaston Franks, who was a medievalist, worked on him so that he left the collection in his will on condition that it be kept together in one place, which does raise the question whether you should agree to such terms that are more common in the US than in the UK. The then director was not very keen to do this, so the works languished for a while and ended up in a rather weak area on the first floor. I remember Mrs James de Rothschild ringing me up and saying, 'I don’t think they’re abiding by the will', so I spoke to the museum and they put it in a better space, still on the first floor.
Recently I suggested to the director, Neil MacGregor, that we get a more accessible gallery and have been lucky enough to be given a wonderful room right by the entrance. It’s a great opportunity to show off these works of art with modern lighting and an app. For example, a walnut with 100 people carved in it is difficult to enjoy, but an app can let you see it all in detail.”