It was with odd reluctance that I took the hand of a pretty young girl in Room 17 of the British Museum on Saturday afternoon as she dragged me to the opposite side of the hall containing the stunning Nereid Monument, but through her broken English, she assured me I wasn’t about to meet my maker as she placed me in position in a crowd slowly forming a circle.
I’ve visited the British Museum in Bloomsbury, London countless number of times, but I’d never seen what was about to happen next. It took me a moment to realise the girl who’d been so insistent on taking my hand was not wearing any shoes, and then I noticed her attire, which probably wouldn’t have been amiss in ancient times. On spotting the topless young man, I realised that something was about to happen which would require a camera. What happened next was nothing like the surreal protest against the BP Oil Spill that hit the British Museum last week, but an unexpected dance performance in the space in front of the Nereid Monument.
Watch the slideshow to see photographs of the dance performance, which lasted for approximately 15 minutes and was nicely composed and synchronised. There was no music, but there didn’t need to be – the three dancers moved around with grace as the crowd looked on with wide smiles. The trio were very animated in their movement and interacted with the crowd as part of the dance routine, running up to the various people stood around and examining them in curiosity (including yours truly, who was a resting post for topless young man).
The trio finally settled on a young lady in a black dress who was then blindfolded and became part of the performance, worshipped by the trio of dancers as she demises to the ground before being slowly revived. As her shoes are returned to her, the trio discreetly disappeared before I could find out who they are or anything more about the performance.
Were you at the British Museum on Saturday afternoon and witness the performance in Room 17? Have you seen other improptu performances at the British Museum? Leave a comment below!
There have been many great women in the times and study of Ancient Egypt – Hatshepsut and Nefertiti are two great examples. Yet in the era of discovery; the time in which great explorers pioneered the excavation of Egypt’s greatest treasures, one woman sticks out louder than Liberace in a dole queue. Cue Amelia Edwards, a Victorian writer and adventurer who bucked the conservative traditions of her time to help found one of London‘s greatest museums.
It’s clear from the outset that Dr Quirke, a much-respected auteur on the language and culture of Ancient Egypt, holds a huge amount of respect for Amelia Edwards (1831 – 1892). Worried for the future of Egypt’s treasures in the face of growing tourism, she co-founded the Egypt Exploration Fund (now Society; see our EES archive adventures here) in 1882. Edwards contributed to the Encyclopaedia Britannica and Standard Dictionary on Egyptian entries, and toured US lecture theatres to enlighten crowds on the budding wonders of the ancient civilisation (bear in mind many of Egypt’s biggest discoveries, such as King Tut’s tomb, were still decades away).
Yet Britain was still a hard place for a female philanthropist, novelist and intellectual to make her mark. “The only university in 1892 for women in England was University College, London,” explains Dr Quirke. Unperturbed, Edwards set out creating a museum where all students could marvel and learn from the wonders coming to Britain from Africa. Dr Quirke continues: “She said, ‘I’m not an Egyptologist, I’m not an archaeologist – but I want my own bequest, my own money, to go somewhere I could have studied myself.'”
Thus was born the Petrie Museum, so named after its first professor William Flinders Petrie, the godfather of modern archaeology. Edwards was determined to get Petrie, the first surveyor of Giza and legendary excavator at Hawara, on board. “She left this clause in her will,” says Quirke, “that the first professor should not be older than 40 – and Petrie was 39 at the time.” Petrie would go on to be (arguably) archaeology’s biggest name, and Edwards’ beloved museum opened doors for thousands of people to admire and study the art and work of the ancient Egyptian people.
We’ve already been looking at loads of amazing artefacts when Dr Quirke pulls out a mysterious stone head from one of the cabinets. It’s one of Edwards’ original pieces. His enthusiasm is infectious – what is it? A head of Amenemhat III, one of Egypt’s greatest builders with pyramids in Dashur and Hawara. Yet there’s something strange about this particular sculpture: the king’s face is withered, his expressions caught in the throes of old age. This goes against the beatific traditions of the time, of the ‘limit’ or ‘nefer’, says Dr Quirke excitedly. “It’s youth that expresses what is beautiful best. Yet here you’ve got the same idea of the head carrying the religious concept but in a different way.”
“None of this would have been here without Amelia Edwards.”
It’s clear that Amelia Edwards was the woman pulling the strings behind the Petrie Museum – one of London’s hidden gems, with the third-largest Egyptian collection outside Egypt. “None of this would have been here without Amelia Edwards,” says Dr Quirke. It’s a fair reflection on a great woman – one of the greatest in the history of Egyptology.
Video: Amelia Edwards and The Petrie Museum(Featuring Dr Stephen Quirke)
Are there any other women, ancient or modern, you feel have contributed to Ancient Egypt as much as Amelia Edwards? Maybe you’ve got something to say about the Petrie Museum itself, or anything else in London you think we should know about? Don’t hesitate to get in touch, either via the below, our contact page (visit here) or by emailing me direct. Watch out for another great archaeovideo with Stephen Quirke at the Petrie Museum, where he’ll be unearthing some of the museum’s treasures – and shedding light on Flinders Petrie – the luminary after whom it’s named. Heritage Key – Unlock the Wonders.
It was with odd reluctance that I took the hand of a pretty young girl in Room 17 of the British Museum on Saturday afternoon as she dragged me to the opposite side of the hall containing the stunning Nereid Monument, but through her broken English, she assured me I wasn’t about to meet my maker as she placed me in position in a crowd slowly forming a circle.
