British Museum blog

How did this Egyptian textile come to be in Norwich?

Faye Kalloniatis, Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

The shroud before conservation started. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery / Trustees of the British Museum

The shroud before conservation started. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery / Trustees of the British Museum

    This is the second in a new series of posts about the unfolding of the Norwich shroud, a joint project between the British Museum and Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

The rather unprepossessing museum storage box with its crumpled heap of ancient linen, had sat in the Norwich Castle stores for nearly a century. I became aware of it in 1999 when the Castle Museum was being refurbished and John Taylor, from the British Museum, had come to help with the Egyptian material.

He, as an expert, was greatly taken by the shroud – even from the little he could see of it in its creased state. But it wasn’t until a couple of years ago, when I started working on the Egyptian collection, that I remembered this small box and its contents.

The linen was clearly worth investigating – and the British Museum thought so too. So, happily, the project to conserve and study the shroud got underway.

As part of that I have had the fascinating task of piecing together the history relating to how the shroud came into the Norwich Castle collection. The story is an interesting and absorbing one.

The collector

Jeremiah James Colman (1830 – 1898) © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Jeremiah James Colman (1830 – 1898) © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Sir Jeremiah Colman bought the shroud while visiting Egypt (end 1896 – early 1897).

Today, Colman is mainly remembered because of his association with mustard. Colman’s Mustards were manufactured in Norwich by several generations of his family and this was the source of their wealth.

Aside from his business concerns, Jeremiah held many public offices. For nearly 25 years, he was a Liberal MP for Norwich and, at various times, was Sheriff and Mayor for the city. Held in great esteem, thousands lined the streets to pay their last respects at his funeral.

Alan Colman, Jeremiah's son who wintered in Egypt because of poor health. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Alan Colman, Jeremiah's son who wintered in Egypt because of poor health. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Travelling in Egypt

Jeremiah travelled to Egypt for family reasons. His son, Alan, was consumptive and it was recommended that he spend the winter in Egypt. He set off in November of 1896, accompanied by two of his sisters as well as his very own medical attendant, a Mr Worthington.

Landing in Egypt, the party headed for Cairo and stayed at the Mena House Hotel, overlooked by the pyramids. Jeremiah joined them a few weeks later.

Early in January 1897 the entire party headed for Luxor. They set sail in a dabaheah – a luxury boat commonly hired by well-to-do travellers. It was named Hathor, and it came with a local crew of about 20.

Their travels along the Nile are captured by photographs taken by one of Colman’s daughters, Florence. Clearly a keen photographer, her images show a fascination with the people and sights of Egypt.

The Colmans on donkeys, led by dragomen and others, viewing the sights. Jeremiah is the figure with the beard, riding on a donkey; two of his daughters are also with him. © The Ludham Archive

The Colmans on donkeys, led by dragomen and others, viewing the sights. Jeremiah is the figure with the beard, riding on a donkey; two of his daughters are also with him. © The Ludham Archive

As the Colmans journeyed up the river, Alan’s health steadily deteriorated and he died in early February 1897 – within days of reaching Luxor.

The Colmans, now in mourning and with no wish to remain in Egypt, turned back and headed for Cairo. Jeremiah wrote home saying:

    ‘[w]e are making our way slowly down the river towards Cairo. . . Even apart from the sad associations of our trip, Egypt is not a place which fascinates me. The utter squalor, misery and dirt of the great part of the population is to me most depressing.’
The luxury boat, Hathor, hired by the Colmans to journey up the Nile to Luxor. © The Ludham Archive

The luxury boat, Hathor, hired by the Colmans to journey up the Nile to Luxor. © The Ludham Archive

But his daughters were more enchanted by the country. One wrote that ‘the wonders of that wonderful land . . . came like a rush . . . the brilliant colouring of the place and people alike . . . the bazaars with their priceless treasures of silks. . . and – still more fascinating – the study of the life of the people themselves, all take one captive.’

Buying antiquities

Colman, although not taken with Egypt, nevertheless ended up buying some of its antiquities. This was not uncommon for travellers with money. Jeremiah bought over 250 artefacts.

He had the foresight to have his collection catalogued. The leather-bound catalogue, embossed with Egyptian floral motifs, was the work of the Egyptologist, Quibell (keeper at the Cairo Museum and one of the discoverers of the famous Narmer Palette.)

The catalogue is an invaluable record. Apart from its information about the artefacts, it occasionally names the dealers, such as Mohammed Mohassib, a well-known and well-regarded Luxor dealer, and that at a time when the great demand for antiquities meant not all were so scrupulous.

Another dealer, named Abdul Medjid, is described by Quibell as ‘a thorough scamp’.

The shroud

One of Colman’s purchases was a shroud – the very one which is the subject of this project. Quibell’s catalogue entry is sketchy:

    ‘Linen Sheet. Covered with hieroglyphic inscriptions from the ‘Book of the Dead’. The mummy in the coffin was often covered with a linen sheet of this kind.’

Frustratingly, there is neither mention of the shroud’s provenance or date nor the dealer from whom it was bought.

The Norwich Castle Museum Egyptian textile, seen here in the original bundle. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery / Trustees of the British Museum.

The Norwich Castle Museum Egyptian textile, seen here in the original bundle. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery / Trustees of the British Museum.

As the shroud is unfolded, so we hope its story will unfold – its provenance, its date and, if we’re lucky, even its owner.

When Sir Jeremiah died (in 1898), he left his collection to two of his daughters, Helen and Ethel. They, too, were good custodians, making it available to anyone who wished to study it – such as the local Egyptian Society of East Anglia, who viewed it at Carrow House, home of the Colmans.

Carrow House, in Norwich. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

Carrow House, in Norwich. © Norwich Castle Museum and Art Gallery

In 1921, the sisters wrote to Norwich City Council offering them their Egyptian antiquities. Pleased to have such a donation, the City gladly accepted and the collection was soon housed in Norwich Castle where it still remains.

As a tribute to their brother, the sisters had a boat built and named it Hathor, after the dabaheah in which Alan had sailed along the Nile.

Hathor, the Norfolk wherry, beautifully decorated with Egyptian motifs, is now a pleasure boat. In the summer it can still be seen cruising along the Norfolk Broads, packed with tourists enjoying a day out.

If you would like to leave a comment click on the title

Filed under: Conservation, Norwich shroud

3 Responses - Comments are closed.

  1. Alison M. says:

    Have had the pleasure of a sail on “Hathor” so was fascinated to learn of the connection.

    Like

  2. […] Clark and Deborah Phipps, conservators from Norfolk Museums and Archaeology Service (NMAS), and Faye Kalloniatis, research associate at Norwich Castle, the whole team was able to discuss first impressions – for […]

    Like

  3. Jeni says:

    This is really interesting, I live in Norwich and am fascinated by Ancient Egyptian, its amazing what you find thats on your doorstep!

    I do ahve a question – does anyone know, or know how I could find out, if any of the Colman were part of any Egyptian magick groups like the temple of Isis? Thanks

    Like

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For our final #MuseumInstaSwap post we’re highlighting the 'Make Do and Mend' campaign of the Second World War, as told by our partner @ImperialWarMuseums in their #FashionontheRation exhibition.

The campaign was launched to encourage people to make their existing supplies of clothes last longer. Posters and leaflets were circulated with advice on subjects including how to prevent moth damage to woollens, how to make shoes last longer or how to care for different fabrics. As the war went on, buying new was severely restricted by coupon limits and no longer an option for many people. The ability to repair, renovate and make one's own clothes became increasingly important. Although shoppers would have to hand over coupons for dressmaking fabric as well as readymade clothes, making clothes was often cheaper and saved coupons. ‘Make Do and Mend’ classes took place around the country, teaching skills such as pattern cutting. Dress makers and home sewers often had to be experimental in their choice of fabrics. Despite disliking much of the official rhetoric to Make Do and Mend, many people demonstrated great creativity and adaptability in dealing with rationing. Individual style flourished. Shortages necessitated imaginative use of materials, recycling and renovating of old clothes and innovative use of home-made accessories, which could alter or smarten up an outfit. Many women used furnishing fabrics for dressmaking until these too were rationed. Blackout material, which did not need points, was also sometimes used. Parachute silk was highly prized for underwear, nightclothes and wedding dresses.

We've really enjoyed working with and learning from our friends at @imperialwarmuseums this week. You can catch up on all our posts and discover many more stories from London’s museums with #MuseumInstaSwap. © IWM (Art.IWM PST 4773 For #MuseumInstaSwap we’re discovering the street style of the Second World War in the #FashionontheRation exhibition at @ImperialWarMuseums. In this archive photo a female member of the Air Raid Precautions staff applies her lipstick between emergency calls.

In wartime Britain it was unfashionable to be seen wearing clothes that were obviously showy, yet women were frequently implored not to let 'standards' slip too far. There was genuine concern that a lack of interest in personal appearance could be a sign of low morale, which could have a detrimental impact on the war effort. The government's concern for the morale of women was a major factor in the decision to continue the manufacture of cosmetics, though in much reduced quantities. Make-up was never rationed, but was subject to a luxury tax and was very expensive. Many cosmetics firms switched some of their production to items needed for the war effort. Coty, for example, were known for their face powder and perfumes but also made army foot powder and anti-gas ointment. Make-up and hair styles took on an increased importance and many women went to great lengths to still feel well-dressed and stylish even if their clothes were last season's, their stockings darned and accessories home-made. As with clothing, women found creative ways around shortages, with beetroot juice used for a splash of lip colour and boot polish passing for mascara.

Discover more stories from London’s museums with #MuseumInstaSwap © IWM (D 176) In the @ImperialWarMuseums exhibition ‘Fashion on the Ration: 1940s street style’ we can see how men and women found new ways to dress while clothing was rationed. Displays of original clothes from the era, from military uniforms to utility underwear, reveal what life was really like on the home front in wartime Britain.

Despite the limitations imposed by rationing, clothing retailers sought to retain and even expand their customer base during the Second World War. Britain's high street adapted in response to wartime conditions, and this was reflected in their retail ranges. The government intervened in the mass manufacture of high street fashions with the arrival of the Utility clothing scheme in 1942. Shoppers carefully spent their precious clothing coupons and money on new clothes to make sure their purchases would be suitable across spring, summer and autumn and winter. Despite the restrictions, the war and civilian austerity did not put an end to creative design, commercial opportunism or fashionable trends on the British home front.

#FashionontheRation exhibition runs @imperialwarmuseums until 31 August.

Discover more stories from London’s museums with #MuseumInstaSwap. For our final day of #MuseumInstaSwap we’re learning about the Second World War @ImperialWarMuseums, and discovering the impact of the war on ordinary people. 
Clothes were rationed in Britain from 1 June 1941. This limited the amount of new garments people could buy until 1949, four years after the war's end. The British government needed to reduce production and consumption of civilian clothes to safeguard raw materials and release workers and factory space for war production. As with food rationing, which had been in place since 1940, one of the reasons for introducing civilian clothes rationing was to ensure fairness. Rationing sought to ensure a more equal distribution of clothing and improve the availability of garments in the shops.

As this poster shows, the rationing scheme worked by allocating each type of clothing item a 'points' value which varied according to how much material and labour went into its manufacture. Eleven coupons were needed for a dress, two needed for a pair of stockings, and eight coupons required for a man's shirt or a pair of trousers. Women's shoes meant relinquishing five coupons, and men's footwear cost seven coupons. When buying new clothes, the shopper had to hand over coupons with a 'points' value as well as money. Every adult was initially given an allocation of 66 points to last one year, but this allocation shrank as the war progressed. © IWM (Art.IWM PST 8293) This week on @instagram we’ve joined up with other London museums to highlight our shared stories. Our partner is @imperialwarmuseums, whose incredible collection brings people’s experiences of modern war and conflict to life. Follow #MuseumInstaSwap to discover some of the intriguing historical connections we have found, as well as insights into everyday life during wartime. As part of our #MuseumInstaSwap with @ImperialWarMuseums, we’ve been given special access to the Churchill War Rooms – located deep below the streets of Westminster.
This is Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s bedroom, which includes his private desk, briefcase and papers, his bed and chamber pot and even an original cigar! The bedroom is located close to the Map Room, keeping Churchill as close as possible to the epicentre of Cabinet War Rooms.
Following the surrender of the Japanese Forces the doors to the War Rooms were locked on 16 August 1945 and the complex was left undisturbed until Parliament ensured its preservation as a historic site in 1948. Knowledge of the site and access to it remained highly restricted until the late 1970s when @ImperialWarMuseums began the task of preserving the site and its contents, making them accessible to as wide an audience as possible and opening them to the public in 1984.
Discover more stories from London’s museums with #MuseumInstaSwap
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