Auguste Rodin's *The Burghers of Calais* stands on a stone plinth in Victoria Tower Gardens, London, a few metres from the Thames and directly in the shadow of the Palace of Westminster. There is no entrance fee. There is no attendant. On a Tuesday morning, a commuter might pass it without breaking stride.
That indifference — the possibility of it — is part of what makes standing in front of this work so affecting. You have to choose to stop. No gallery has made the decision for you, channelled you through a vestibule, placed a bench at the correct viewing distance. The six figures are simply there, in the civic air, under whatever sky the day has produced.
