In its 200 years the National Gallery has mirrored Britain

SOMETIMES A LITTLE geopolitical rivalry can produce a big pay-off. France opened the Louvre in 1793. The Netherlands followed with what is now known as the Rijksmuseum, then Spain with the Prado. Britain had flirted with the idea of a national collection of art since the 1770s but did not make a move until 1824.

Unlike in France and Spain, the British royal family would not hand over its beloved paintings. So the government decided to purchase 38, many of them Old Masters, from John Julius Angerstein, an insurance broker, for £57,000 (roughly $6.5m in today’s money). As one MP proclaimed, Britain had finally been rescued “from a disgrace which the want of such an establishment had long entailed upon it”.

The National Gallery opened its doors to the public 200 years ago. In that time it has moved from Angerstein’s home on Pall Mall in London to its commanding spot overlooking Trafalgar Square. Before the pandemic it was the seventh-most-visited museum in the world; 6m people came to see its collection of more than 2,300 treasures. (As it struggled to recover from a covid-induced slump and renovates a major wing, it slid to 12th place last year.)

All the same, the birthday celebration, which starts on May 10th, is a chance to show off. The festivities include a year of exhibitions, performances and workshops, and 12 of the gallery’s best-known paintings—by J.M.W. Turner, Johannes Vermeer and others—will go on display across Britain. “We take the word ‘national’ really seriously in the phrase ‘National Gallery’,” says the deputy director, Paul Gray.

From the outset, it was to be a people’s museum—a mantra that has been reinterpreted over time. At first that meant a free place where the public could come to marvel at masterworks from across western Europe. During the Victorian era people believed the gallery was a civilising alternative to the gin palace and the public house and hoped great paintings would boost creativity and power the economy.

It became a mirror in which Britain could see itself, for better or worse. When Mary Richardson, a suffragette, slashed Diego Velázquez’s “The Rokeby Venus”—a sensuous nude painting of the goddess—she was calling attention to the persecution of her fellow activist, Emmeline Pankhurst. During the second world war the National Gallery embodied the Blitz spirit. The paintings had been evacuated to a disused quarry in Wales but the museum continued to host concerts and talks. In a display of defiance, masterpieces were smuggled back for people to enjoy.

After the war strict, paternalistic ideas about art institutions—including that food and drink should not be served on site—shifted. In 2022-23 refreshments, combined with events and merchandise, made a profit of £2m, or $2.5m. Of late the gallery has improved its digital efforts in order to “go where people are”, as Christine Riding, head of the curatorial department, puts it. It posts regularly on TikTok. For the bicentenary, 20 influencers will make social-media content inspired by the gallery.

This points to the future of museums. Alongside a world-class collection, institutions need to offer a cradle-to-grave experience. That means sensory classes for babies, parties for adults and lectures that cater to older folk. All this is expensive: in 2022-23 expenditure was around £60m. (The National Gallery receives government support but generates most of its income from donations and memberships.)

On a recent weekday the museum was a flurry of schoolchildren, teenagers and adults. The National Gallery may have started later than its rivals on the continent, but it is energetic in old age. ■

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